I am ever guilty of some folly, some unaccountable folly. Either my faith condemns my fears, or my fears accuse my faith of folly. I may safely trust to God as my guardian and guide, in the darkness of the valley death, where I must walk alone. Why should I distrust him in the high-way of life, where thousands walk with me? Dare I commit the concerns of my soul to him, and hope for salvation in his name; yet distrust him with the cares of my present life, nor hope for its necessaries in his providence? Can I venture my soul into his hand, and think it safe through the intricate mazes of an eternal duration, yet doubt if I may depend on his promise and providence, through the few windings of a transitory life?
Or will God care for the soul—but cast off the body? Will he feed the raven, deck the lily—but starve his child? Will he give of the good things of this life, even to excess, to his enemies; and withhold necessary supplies from his people? A supply of the necessary things in this world—is enough for those who shall inherit all things hereafter. Can he guide the stars in their courses, and the orderly revolution of day and night, summer and winter, seed-time and harvest—and not over-rule the occurrences of my life? Can he, who has given up his Son to freely die for my soul—not supply me with all my physical necessities? Do I think God to be the God of the mountains of eternity—but not of the valleys of time? Do I think because his habitation is in the heights of glory—he does not govern the deep places of the earth—which are also in his hand? How great a beast in sacred matters am I, who can devolve my ‘great all’ on him, and yet distrust him with my trifling concerns—and what is nothing at all!
—– supplied from his bounty, preserved by his power, and governed by his providence—I have no cause of anxiety about my present situation, about my passing life—except, in the lawful use of lawful means—to commit all into his hand, who does all things well, and gives to all his people, their expected glorious end!–James Meikle, 1730-1799
