Among men of this world, though they are oppressed by the world, and the evils of it, and compelled to cry out under the bitterness of their sorrows, yet are there no hearts, no voices directed to God? When death enters into their home, or when pains and chastening of the body chain them to their beds, do they lament the earthly bereavements, and groan under the consequences of sin, by which death and sickness came? In all these things, will nothing lead their unthinking minds “to hear the rod, and who hath appointed it?” Will they turn from one creature comfort to another, and strive to fill up the vacancies made by distressing providences, in their fancied happiness with any thing, or even nothing, rather than look to God for comfort and support under their trouble?
And oh, how distinguishing His grace, that when sleepless in bed, or when pains keep me awake, I can and do look to Jesus, and say, “Thou art God, my Maker, who giveth songs in the night!” Yea, Lord, you have refreshed my soul with many a sweet song. How often have I been blessed with the harmony of the songs of redemption—how Jesus hath loved me, and given Himself for me. Yea, Lord, can I not say, as the prophet, “Thou hast wakened me morning by morning; he hath wakened mine ear to hear as the learned.”
I have been often wakened in the night by Him, and I have found my soul instantly led out by thy grace, to a sense of His presence, and to a desire after Him. Oh, precious Redeemer, grant me such frequent visits and such sweet communications of your grace that in the multitude of the sorrows of my heart, your comforts may refresh my soul; and frequently may the earnest petition for your presence and love, come to me in through the prayer, “Where is God, my Maker, who giveth songs in the night?”