“He thanked God and took courage.” Acts 28:15
Gratitude and confidence are individually excellent,
but their union is admirable. They adorn and recommend and aid each other.
There is no one they become so well as the Christian. And when is he without
cause for both? When has he not, if truth examines his condition, a thousand
excitements to praise, and encouragements to hope?
It can never be more proper to exercise these
than at the interesting period of the last day of the year, when we are so
naturally and unavoidably led to think of the past and the future. Let
us therefore follow the example of Paul when he met the brethren at Appii
Forum—let us thank God, and take courage.
What can be more reasonable than to thank God when we review the past? While
many have been cut off, and not a few in their sins, we have been carried
through another year in safety. We have been exposed to accidents and diseases
as well as they who are now in the dust, and our frame has been as delicate and
frail as their frames. But we are the living, the living to praise him, as it
is this day, and all our bones can say, Who is a God like unto thee? While he
has holden our souls in life, he has also continued our mercies. These mercies
have been new every morning. Of the least of all these we have been unworthy.
And had we been dealt with according to our desert, we should have been the
most wretched beings on earth. But we have been fed at his table, we have been
clothed from his wardrobe. We have had not only the necessaries, but the
comforts and indulgences of life. He has given us richly all things to enjoy.
He has made the outgoings of our mornings and evenings to rejoice. He has given
us the succession of the seasons. He has blessed the springing of the earth. He
has charmed us in the field and in the garden with melody and fragrance, and
colors and tastes. What relative attachments; what endearments of friendship;
what pleasing interchanges of solitude and society, of labor and of rest, have
we enjoyed!
We have not only to acknowledge private, but
public mercies. How has he preserved and blessed our country, notwithstanding
all our national provocations. He has not only blessed us personally, but
relatively. He has been the benefactor of our families and our friends. Yea, he
has blessed us not only in the kindness of his providence, but in the means of
grace. We have had our Sabbaths. Our eyes have seen our teachers. We have been
made joyful in his house of prayer. He has fed us with the finest of the wheat,
and with oil out of the rock has he satisfied us. “Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits.”
We have had trials; but even these, instead of
checking gratitude, if properly reviewed, will increase it. They have been few,
compared with our comforts. They have been light, compared with the sufferings
of others. They have been variously alleviated: in measure, when they shot
forth, he debated with them; he stayed his rough wind in the day of the east
wind. They have all been founded in a regard to our welfare. They have
imbittered sin, and endeared the Scriptures, and the throne of grace, and the sympathy
of Him who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities. They have weaned us
from the world. They have told us that this is not our rest. They have also
assured us that he knows how to support and deliver. Aaron’s rod blossomed; so
shall ours, and yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness. There was honey at
the end of Jonathan’s rod, and there is sweetness at the end of ours. Yea,
already we can say, “It is good for me that I have been afflicted.” Surely a
gratitude is required on this occasion that will not expire in mere
acknowledgements, but induce me to dedicate myself to his service, and walk
before him in newness of life.
And what can be more reasonable than to take courage when we look forward? We
enter, indeed, on the year commencing, not knowing what a day may bring forth;
and darkness is apt to gender dread. Duties will
arise, and we must meet their claims. Afflictions may arise; indeed, they are almost unavoidable. Does not every path
of life lead through a vale of tears? Is not every thing here uncertain? My
health may be assailed. My friends may be removed. This year I may die.
But I will pore on this no longer. I will not
sour my present mercies by suspicion, or fear, or anxiety. It is my duty, it is
my privilege to be careful for nothing, but to cast all my care on Him who
careth for me. I take courage from his former
dispensations. Has he ever forsaken or forgotten me? “Because he has been my help, therefore under the shadow of his wings will I rejoice.” I take
courage from his providence. I am not
in “a fatherless world.” Nothing is left to chance. My ways are continually
before him, and the very hairs of my head are all numbered. I take courage from
his power. Nothing is too hard for
him. He can make even mine enemies to be at peace with me. He can render every
loss a gain. He can make all things work together for my good. I take courage
from his promises. They are all
faithfulness and truth. And what case do they leave unnoticed, unprovided for,
from which despondency can spring? I will therefore trust, and not be afraid,
but go forward cheerfully with Him who said, I will never leave thee, nor
forsake thee.
“Beneath his smiles my heart has lived,
And part of heaven possessed:
I praise his name for grace received,
And trust him for the rest.”"
-From Morning Exercises for Every Day in the
Year, by Reverend William Jay (1769-1852); (Harrisonburg, Virginia;
SPRINKLE PUBLICATIONS; 1998)
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