by James Meikle, 1730-1799 "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and 1781 - 1786 March 28, 1781. When threatened with the loss of goods or relations, what a tumult is raised in the mind! How apt are we to arraign the wisdom, the goodness, and the justice of God! Alas! this is too much my present error. But I flee to God in all trials—approve of all his conduct—and claim him for all and all. So sweet is his mercy, that I know it shall be my song while in the valley of misery. And in spite of all my misfortunes, I have reason to sing of it in things of lesser importance, and I hope shortly to sing of it in things of the highest consequence to me in time, and at last to sing to your mercy to me through eternal ages. April 16, 1781. For some time past my wife has been very ill. But there is mercy mixed with affliction—it was sent at a time when the child was fit to be weaned, and she had patience in her trouble. Medicines have been used for some time without the desired effect. But as it is our duty to use means, so I desire to look to him who can work with or without means. He knows that in all things I would sincerely say, "Your will be done." But O that it may be his holy will to spare the life, and recover the health, of my dear wife. But why do not I expect the death of my friends, or my own death every day? June 17, 1781. Alas! how little do I improve for the heavenly state? Affliction on our family is too often a clog on our souls—but, through the heavenly blessing, shall in the mean time, or afterwards, yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness. O to improve health and gospel-ordinances when enjoyed! September 23, 1781. Two days ago my wife, who has long been sick, delivered a dead child, two months before the time. We were struck to think that the little creature was entered on its eternal rest before it came into the world. I had this comfort, that we had both given it in prayer to God. I desire to adore his sovereignty, and to bless him for our remaining living child, and humbly to implore the recovery of my dear wife. October 6, 1781. My wife, after an apparent recovery, has grown so much worse, that I fear her death. But I have this sweet comfort—that I shall be the only loser, for death to her shall be great gain. O how pleasant are pious spouses in life, and at death! I still implore her recovery. To sit alone without my daily companion, to see my child without a mother, must greatly distress. But to view God sovereign over all, sufficient in all, and an all-sufficient portion after all, may silence and support me under all. I desire no comfort but from God. I refuse no cross that comes from him. But O for grace to improve both to his glory! While there is life there is hope, and while there is hope I desire to be always at the throne of grace; for who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, and recover my dear wife to me? I believe his power, that he can do it. I believe his mercy, that what is good the Lord will give. And I wait on him with humble expectation, confessing that I am less than the least of his people, and deserve nothing at his hand. October 8, 1781. If in this life only, I had hope for myself or my dying wife—how miserable I would be, now that she is on the borders of eternity—and I must soon follow! But what glories open to my faith, and shall soon break on her soul in cloudless vision! When this world, and the eternal world of glory world are taken together—the gloom is broken; for this world is but our inn, that our eternal habitation. No matter, then, at what time, or in what manner, we leave our inn, since going home to our Father's house—home to God and to glory! When the ungodly loses one idol, he cleaves to another, and cleaves closer. But when the Christian (and O to act the saint now!) has idols broken, or delights removed—he cleaves to God alone. October 15, 1781. My dear wife is laid in the dust of the earth—torn from my affection and my arms. But her soul is this day triumphing in glory. And is not this comfort, and cause of thankfulness? A few days before her death, she fell into a lethargy, and so could not speak. But I have found a paper since her death, which speaks sweetly, and contains a collection of scripture texts which, she says, had been useful to her, and a personal covenant the day before her marriage, and another since, in which she makes a surrender to God of her husband and her child. O that God may accept of both! October 21, 1781. O what a sweet soul-satisfying portion do I find God! When the earthly family is broken—he can set the solitary in the heavenly family, and afford communion with himself. When storms and tempests rage, he can command a calm; when affliction and woe, sorrow and anguish, spread gloomy night on the soul—he can reveal the glories of the eternal world, and make celestial day break in on our darkest night. October 22, 1781. I mind, that on the day my wife died, the psalm that fell to be sung in family-worship was that part of Psalm 39 ver. 5. "You, indeed, have made my days short in length, and my life span as nothing in Your sight. Yes, every mortal man is only a vapor," and verse 9. "I was silent; I would not open my mouth, for you are the one who has done this." I desired to imitate the psalmist in a holy silence; at the same time not despising the chastening Lord—but lying low before him. And now I desire to commit all my cares, all my concerns to him, and my child to his protection and providence, where she shall be safe, though I were taken away also by death. November 20, 1781. On a back-look into many occurrences of my life, O how am I ravished with the conduct of providence, with the kindness of God! In the affairs of life, he has not only given me many things I asked of him—but many times blessed me with kindness, and thus checked my solicitude, and forbade my anxiety. But O where are my returns of gratitude—my full confidence, and fixed dependence on him? The best cure of sorrow for the loss of dear relations, is faith fixing within the veil, and taking a glimpse of the inheritance in light! I could have felt no grief, had I gone with my deceased wife to glory. Now, the intervals between our departures is so short in itself, and compared to the eternity of that state, is nothing, that I shall have scarcely time to look around, and see myself left alone, until I shall lift up my eyes with transport, and see myself with all my pious relations, adoring at the highest throne! December 4, 1781. Though, in the affairs of this life, I have often met with disappointment and pain, yet I see this took place from my own folly; for, trusting to my own wisdom, and wedded to my own plans, I would not drop them when providence dashed them out of may hand. And so it was just to correct my folly, that I should smart the more. But all things have gone well with me, when I have—waited on the counsel and will of God—left with what he took away—accepted of what he gave—and said amen to all he did! Even in the common affairs of life, I should acknowledge the special providence of God—who over-rules all things, and forsees all events. And though I am afraid to extend my plans for many years to come, who dare not boast of tomorrow, yet prudence in the affairs of this life is the duty of those who look for another life; therefore I lay my plan—and whether providence prospers or disappoints me, I am resigned. January 1, 1782. To be stubborn, stupid, or insensible under afflictions, may suit a Heathen philosopher—but not a Christian believer. I feel, and because I feel, and am sensible of my losses and afflictions, therefore I strive to be submissive and resigned. But if I felt nothing, resignation would be no attainment. January 12, 1782. What a sweet display of the power, wisdom, and goodness of God, have I often seen in the conduct of holy providence! So has heaven ruled for me in the affairs of life, that I am ashamed I am not more resigned to the heavenly disposal. I should trust in him at all times; and at no time shall I be ashamed of my trust. Let goodness and mercy all my days follow me, while I travel on to the heavenly glory; and may my little child be adopted by his heavenly Father—and it does not matter how soon the earthly father be no more. January 26, 1782. When I look forward to the heavenly state, and see such a weight of glory, such a world of bliss, awaiting every heir of God, I wonder that we should ever complain of any affliction that can befall us by the way. What though laden with disease, and broken with sickness? In a little while, the immortality of bliss, and the vigor of glory, shall be mine. What though oppressed with poverty and need on every side? The treasures of eternity shall shortly enrich me forever. What though he has made desolate all my company? In a short time, I shall join the heavenly multitude in glory. February 2, 1782. One of my plans has misgiven—but I have no uneasiness, because infinite wisdom and infinite goodness rules for me; and it is enough that God is concerned about all my concerns. When I look around, I see many parents that get a world of grief with their children. But how often is their sin written in their punishment! They are at no pains to teach their children to fear their heavenly Father—so it is no wonder, then, they forget to honor their earthly parents. Now, though some pious and conscientious parents may have stubborn children, yet it generally holds true—that a neglect in their pious education lies at the root of all. February 13, 1782. Though affliction and death rob us of our dearest earthly comforts, yet this is ground of consolation, that the throne of grace still stands, to which he may still come with boldness; and that into these courts of grace, not like the Persian courts, we may enter, though mourners. May 4, 1782. O how good is it to trust in an all-sufficient God! Some time ago an event happened that deprived me of an annual income. I approved of the dispensation, committed all to providence, and am this day as amply provided for as ever, and am thus encouraged to depend on God alone. Last night someone broke into my barn, and stole a few oats. The loss is trifling—but the lesson is vast—to secure a treasure which moth cannot eat, rust corrupt, or thieves steal. The worldling toils night and day for the thief or the robber, for it is the same thing whether a man's treasure be snatched from him, or he from it. Now, to every sinner death will act the most complete thief, and relentless robber, though in a manner different from all other robbers, for he leaves him not one penny of all his sums, not a foot-breadth of all his estates, neither friend nor relation, title nor distinction. But, O happy saint! from whom death can take nothing—but brings him to the full possession of all. July 2, 1782. I hope I can say that the things of time are not very high in my esteem. I can hear of some making great fortunes without any emotions of mind, for I think the patrimony of my children is safer in the treasure of divine providence, than in any bank in Great Britain. But I lament that corruptions rise, that sin rages within, That my meditations are not more heavenly, and my thoughts more holy. I desire to have no confidence in the flesh—but to depend on all-sufficient grace, the grace that is in Christ Jesus. July 26, 1782. I was informed that a debtor had by a point of law, defrauded me of a round sum. But my mind was very easy, seeing the treasures of heaven are still entire, and shall enrich me forever. Sunday I was seized with an influenza, a disease that had raged all around the country for months. Thus I was detained from sacrament, and lay sweating in bed all the Sabbath day—but recovered in a few days. On the whole, while I confess my sins, and confess that I am punished still less than my iniquities deserve, I desire to give God the glory of his wisdom, and to believe that he sees such losses and disappointments the fittest for me. I would give him the glory of his sovereignty in approving of his disposal, without inquiring why; and the glory of his truth and faithfulness, that all things shall work together for my good. I have also to remark, that the same Psalm 39 in course of family worship, fell to be sung while I was under this illness; as it had nearly ten months before, when my wife died. I may say, that the admonition being doubled, should keep me mindful of in my frailty, and caution me against murmuring at afflictions of any kind. "You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life is but a breath. Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro: He bustles about, but only in vain; he heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it. But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you. Save me from all my transgressions; do not make me the scorn of fools. I was silent; I would not open my mouth, for you are the one who has done this." Psalms 39:5-9 August 1, 1782. I have often said to God—give me Christ, and I put a blank in his hand, with respect to everything in the world. But I correct myself; for if Christ is mine, I can have no blank, seeing he is more than all riches, dearer than all relations, better than all enjoyments, and can not only satisfy—but fill and overflow my soul, though heaven and earth were gone. October 11, 1782. Rachel named her child of which she died, 'Benoni'—the son of my sorrow. But Jacob would not keep up the remembrance of the death at his beloved wife, and so he called him 'the son of my right-hand'. So, on the one hand, I wish not to forget the afflictions that befall me; and, on the other, to acknowledge all the mercies of my lot. October 25, 1782. Yesterday, the shocks of corn were covered with snow, and the growing corn that was strong was laid flat, and covered with snow; and this day it is tempestuous and rainy, and in some parts of the country the harvest is not much more than begun, and the farmers are much afraid that their corn will not be fit for seed. As I suffer, so I sympathize in the calamity. But I observe, 1. That judgments on our substance are felt by all, the saint not excepted—but spiritual plagues are felt and lamented by few. 2. That some parts of the country have escaped the stroke. 3. That we are apt to overlook a special providence in common things, as if he who made the seasons did not over-rule them. 4. We are more prone to mourn for what we have lost, than to be thankful for what is left, though by sin we have forfeited all. 5. That the saint is safe in all, for in famine he has a promise to be fed; and even though he should die of hunger; death, like a servant, would only set him down at the table of glory, to feast forever on royal dainties. 6. That to be stupid and insensible under a stroke, is a sin on the one hand; as it is on the other hand to despond under a calamity. Now, though, for my own sake, the sake of the poor, and of a whole country-side, I implore favorable weather; yet if it were said I should have my will in the weather, I would roll all over on an unerring providence, though he should be pleased that my whole crop should rot, for it would be but the chastisement of a father, not of a cruel one; more so if my soul might still feast on eternal love. November 12, 1782. Two days ago it began to thaw, and this day is a great thaw, with wind and rain. Many potatoes are not dug up, and almost gone with the frost, which will be felt by many families. And too many are likely to cry out against providence, whereas we should condemn ourselves, for we have sinned, and have not served him in the abundance of all things, and therefore he is sending cleanness of teeth. O how vain all earthly things! this crop was very great, and promised plenty—but has come to little. I desire to reprove myself for carnality and too much looking to second causes; and I bless God that I can say, "Your will be done;" and though everything in the world should go to ruin, still I will rejoice in the Lord, and rejoice in the God of my salvation. December 3, 1782. The more we concern ourselves with the things of time—the more we are disappointed. But the more we mind heavenly things—the better it shall go with our souls. God is such a portion to his people, that they are rich in the midst of poverty; and content in every condition. I have taken God for my portion, my governor, my guide, and my director in all things. And it is just, when I let him go in any of these respects, that things go ill with me. December 23, 1782. I seek not to be rich in the world—but to be rich in faith; and this day, it has been to me according to my faith. O to trust in him at all times, and to believe that he is God. December 31, 1782. It has pleased God to permit me to be defrauded of a certain sum by an unjust person. But I rather pity than rage at my adversary; for when I look onward a few years, and see us both stand at the great tribunal, no losses will disturb me, and no gains will advantage him. The Chaldeans and Sabeans violently spoiled Job, and yet he looks beyond the instruments, and says, "GOD has taken away, blessed be his name." So I desire to see God in all, who can spoil my crop by frost, or my substance by the fraudulent dealer, or by water, or by fire. But, blessed be his name, I have a treasure which can neither drown, nor burn, nor be frost-bitten, nor be taken away by the deceit of law, or the injustice of the wicked. This year I have met with so many losses, (nor am without the fear of more) that I have nothing for it but an entire resignation to the divine disposal, and strong faith in my divine Rock. God lives—I care not who dies. God rules—let all nature reel in confusion. Though I see nothing but difficulties and darkness before me, well may my faith act on him who is omniscient to foresee, and omnipotent to perform all things. The more purely I rely on God above and beyond means, (neither neglecting nor despising the use of them) the more is my faith of the right kind, and the more is God honored. January 7, 1783. I kept the morning time as a personal fast, on many accounts, and could not but observe, that Psalm 111 was the ordinary family worship, "He provides food for those who fear him," and the chapter was Jer. 17:7, "Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is." These promises were food to my faith. February 8, 1783. The price of grain fell a little, and plenty was imported. Let his name be blessed, and the poor praise him. In something I had an expectation of, I am disappointed. But I am resolved now never to be disappointed—but to approve of every providence. Why do I acknowledge him in all my ways, if I will not allow him to direct steps? Why do I ask counsel of him, and yet murmur at his providence? I have this kind providence to observe in common things; and he who rules in one thing rules in all. But I am angry at myself, that in anything I should sin against this gracious God. February 14, 1783. I have often observed, that if harassing and disquieting affairs came upon me at any time, it was about sacred times and holy solemnities; and so it fell out at this time, two days before our sacrament. But still my mind was serene, and I had the faith that God, who gave his Son for me, would set bounds to the wrath of man. And O how light is the wrath of man, when the soul is delivered from every spark of divine wrath! March 23, 1783. Many a method does God try to wean us from our love to this vain world, to this vexatious life. Our flowery comforts are always attended with thorns and prickles, and our best earthly blessings have always something embittering about them. Thus the death of pious and agreeable relations leaves a lasting hurt, and yet we strike our roots deep in the earth, which, being under the curse, can yield nothing but briars and thorns. The storms that ruffle my abode, the disappointments I daily meet with—are kindly designed to call to my mind, and to dispose and prepare me for my departure. And yet how deaf am I to these warnings! But when anxious cares, and vain and wandering thoughts, vex in sacred times; when temptations assault, and sin gathers strength, and the Comforter who should relieve my soul is far from me, because I have sinned him away—then I grow weary of the world, and say of life, I loathe it, I would not live always. I think I could spin out a life in the midst of every disaster—but I cannot endure a life of sinning or estrangement from God. April 26, 1783. God is pleased sometimes to delay giving what is needful until the last—to exercise our faith, our patience and resignation. And though the things may be of a common nature, yet, to an observing eye, there is a beautiful concurrence of providences, all wisely ordered by him, without whom a sparrow or a hair cannot fall to the ground. My anxious cares profit me nothing. But the heavenly care supplies all my needs. July 4, 1783. I desire to acknowledge the kindness of God in all things. O how sweet are those mercies which come as returns of prayer! And as God is the God of all mercies, I may expect that he who gives me one mercy at a needful time, will give me another when the fit time comes; and the more so, since he has given me Christ the sum of all mercies. August 10, 1783. O what vile, vain, wicked thoughts dance in my mind sometimes amidst pious exercises! This I say—He is a thoughtless Christian that thinks little of the sin of his thoughts. But my comfort is, a gracious Savior can cleanse from secret faults, as well as keep back from presumptuous sin. November 16, 1783. When come home from sermon, being a cold day, I feel very sleepy, and could not improve the day as I should! But O happy day, when, free from sin and from infirmity, I shall be all vigor in his divine presence! shall never rest, yet never be weary! December 8, 1783. Being returned home from attending at a sacramental solemnity, my first news were some disasters, and seeming worldly losses. But my soul is composed, cheerful and serene, since nothing in the world is either my chief joy or chief good. December 16, 1783. The providences of my lot are amazing and wonderful, and supply the present necessity in a manner which bids—which commands me to hope for the future, and to cast all my cares on him who cares for me. April 6, 1784. Of all the enemies to the spiritual life, worldly cares are the worst. They come in so many shapes, and from so many quarters, and under such fair pretenses—such as a lawful care to provide for our family, and to deal justly with others. And thus they consume our thoughts, and engage our meditations, to the things of time, while heavenly concerns are shut out. Therefore, with Augur would I pray, "Give me neither poverty nor riches." June 16, 1784. I ask, and dare hardly ask, lest I ask amiss; therefore I ask all temporal good things with submission, and would wish to say—Give what you will, give how you will, and give when you will. This in all things shall not only silence—but support me, that it is the Lord who chooses and refuses for me. O to arrive at heaven with a soul flaming with love, and well acquainted with the work of the place! October 5, 1784. I am afraid that my love has not that ardor, nor my devotion that fervor, which they should have, or had at one time. O quicken and revive me, and shed your love abroad in my heart! October 17, 1784. Alas! on a view of my life and walk, I think it is a dreadful contradiction; for, instead of running the race which is set before me—I sigh and go backward. Instead of having my face heavenward, and my back towards the wilderness—I have my back to heaven, and my face, heart, and affections towards this world. I call evil good—and good evil. I put light for darkness—and darkness for light. I am careful for my body as if it were my soul; and careless of my soul as if it were but my body. I put time in the place of eternity, and the creature in the place of God. August 28, 1785. My heart, which at all times should be a garden enclosed for none but my Beloved to walk in, alas! this day has been as a vineyard whose hedge is broken down, so that the wild boar of the forest, and the wild beast of the field, destroy it at their pleasure. Vain thoughts, like an herd of untamed brutes, run here and there, and my poor soul is all dismay. O for pity and compassion to my case! November 16, 1785. As it had pleased Providence to take away my wife about four years ago, so it pleased him to bestow another wife on me at this time; and as I wished never to be unequally yoked with unbelievers, so the woman I got now has the appearance of true religion. But I trust more to the kindness of heaven, than to my own sagacity. January 10, 1786. Amidst all things in a world, I have only one request—that all my near friends may be the fearers of God. I desire to come with a strong faith to the God of all grace for my poor friends. O to see some marks of grace, some real marks of religion! April 4, 1786. It is better to go to a throne of grace for everything I need, than anywhere else. I come therefore to the God of all grace, for grace, the best of blessings to my nearest friends, to the wife of my bosom, and my dear child. May 13, 1786. My child is learning to read the Bible, and to learn the shorter catechism by heart, and I implore a blessing on her education, that she may be able to search the Scriptures, which testify of Christ. In what danger does a traveler to heaven pursue his journey! Though there were no tempter to waylay him, yet his impediments may be many. There may be some hindrances from his constitution, as he may be fiery or fretful, which in his cooler moments will give him pain; or from his friends, when any of them are either profane, or loiterers in the ways of God; and, finally, from his very circumstances, whether his be affluent or indigent. As, while in the body, the cares and solicitude with which we are pestered are often very great, so great, that, alas! with me, eternity seems to be swallowed up of time, whereas time should be swallowed up of eternity. But grace shall shine triumphant at last, and shall bring the traveler in safety to the land of glory! June 30, 1786. Common providence will sometimes add wealth to carnal men—but the child of God feels no disquiet. No degree of poverty will affect my future state, or bar my soul from heavenly bliss. But riches obtained by sinning against God, like Elijah's little cloud, will darken my whole heaven, and pursue with storm and tempest through eternity itself. September 1, 1786. It is a shame for the child of God not to believe in the bounty, and in the blessing of providence. By the blessing of providence, I mean, that two men, whose families are alike numerous, of the same station, and whose incomes are equal, yet the one shall be in easy circumstances, and the other in pinching circumstances. However, on the other hand, pinching circumstances are no sign that one is not the favorite of heaven; for even our Savior, the Father's well-beloved, in our world had nowhere to lay his head. September 9, 1786. It is common to come with our afflictions and troubles to a throne of grace to get them removed, or to be supported under them. But we should also bring our blessings there to get them sanctified. Then I desire to bless God for a living wife and a living child, and to implore grace, the best of blessings, on both their souls. The child is strong—but the dear mother has suffered much. In the natural birth, the poor woman only can travail for her child—but both parents should travail in birth until Christ be formed in their children. Alas! how little do I know of mental pangs, strong actings of faith, constant stugglings in prayer, and exhorting and instructing them as they grow up? September 17, 1786. Our child was baptized, and so declared a member of the church visible. O that she also may be a member of the invisible church! To go through the ceremony, or the visible part of the sacrament, is easy. But let me mind that the vows lie on me as long as my children are lent to me; and may I, and my tender-hearted wife, never forget that this child is but a loan, and may be called for whenever Sovereign Wisdom pleases. November 7, 1786. When this, and that, and the other friend proves false, it gives me great comfort that there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother--and that he is better than all other friends--and that such a friend is mine! |