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GOD UNCHANGEABLE

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Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 28, 1861

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 18, No. 2.

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GOD UNCHANGEABLE

By Ambrose Serle

"I may be faint and weary (says the believer), but my God cannot. I may alter and fluctuate, as to my frames, but my Redeemer is unchangeably the same. I might utterly fail and come to nothing if left to myself; but I cannot be so left to myself, for the spirit of truth hath said, 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.' He will renew my strength, either by changing my weakness into strength, or by enduing me with his own power. He is wise to foresee and provide for all my dangers; he is rich to relieve and to succor me in all my wants; he is gracious to hear and to answer all my prayers; he is omnipotent to deliver and defend me from all mine enemies; he is faithful to perfect and perform all his own promises; he is eternal and immortal, to bless my poor depending soul with eternal blessedness and immortality. O what a great and glorious Saviour for such a mean and worthless sinner! O what a bountiful and graciously indulgent friend for such a base and insignificant rebel! What, what am I when I compare myself, and all I am of myself with what I can conceive of my God, and of what he hath kindly promised even to me? What a mystery am I to myself, to angels, to men! A worm of earth to be like a star of heaven; a corruptible sinner to be an incorruptible saint; a rebel to be made a child; an outlaw to become an heir; a deserver of hell to become an inheritor of heaven; a strong hold of the Devil to be garnished into a temple of God; an enemy and a beggar to be exalted to a throne, to be in friendship with God, one with Christ, a possessor of his Spirit, and of all this honor, happiness, and glory, forevermore; and all without any right to any one thing on my part but the miseries of the lowest hell! O what manner and what matter of love is this! Lord, take my heart, my soul, my all! I can render thee no more, and I would render thee no less. It is indeed a poor return. My body and soul are but 'two mites,' and yet (glory be to thee!) thou who didst esteem those of the poor widow, wilt not despise these of mine. Lord, they are thine own too; and I can only give thee what is thine! I melt with gratitude; and even this gratitude is thy gift. O take it, and accept both it and me in thyself, which is all my salvation and all my desire, for ever and ever!"—Ambrose Serle.