all his works; who made heaven and earth, the
sea, and all that therein is; who keepeth truth for ever; who
helpeth them to right that suffer wrong; who feedeth the hungry; a
God who feeds the birds of the air, though they sow not, neither do
they reap, nor gather into barns; and who clothes the grass of the
field, which toils not, neither doth it spin; and who will much much
more clothe and feed you, to whom he has given reason,
understanding, and the power of learning his laws, the rules by
which this world of his is made and works, and of turning them to
your own profit in rational and honest labour.

And think, my friends, if the old Psalmist, before Christ came,
could believe all this, and find comfort in it, much more ought we.
Shame to us if we do not. I had almost said, we deny Christ, if we
do not. For who said those last words concerning the birds of the
air, and the grass of the field? Who told us that we have not
merely a Master or a Judge in heaven, but a Father in heaven? Who
but that very Word of God, whom the Psalmist saw dimly and afar off?
He knew that the Word of God abode for ever in heaven: but he knew
not, as far as we can tell, that that same Word would condescend to
be made flesh, and dwell among men that we might see his glory, full
of grace and truth. The old Psalmist knew that God's word was full
of truth, and that gave him comfort in the wild and sad times in
which he lived; but he did not know--none of the Old Testament
prophets knew,--how full God's word was of grace also. That he was
so full of love, condescension, pity, generosity, so full of longing
to seek and save all that was lost, to set right all that was wrong,
in one word again, so full of grace, that he would condescend to be
born of the Virgin Mary, suffer under Pontius Pilate, to be
crucified, dead and buried, that he might become a faithful High
Priest for us, full of understanding, fellow-feeling, pity, love,
because he has been tempted in all things like as we are, yet
without sin.

My friends, was not the old Psalmist a Jew, and are not we Christian
men? Then, if the old Psalmist could trust God, how much more
should we? If he could find comfort in the thought of God's order,
how much more should we? If he could find comfort in the thought of
his justice, how much more should we? If he could find comfort in
the thought of his love, how much more should we? Yes; let us be
full of troubles, doubts, sorrows; le