God tells you that He counts the hairs of your head; suppose. I go to a sick-bed and find the mind of a saint anxious and troubled. What, I say, is your Father in heaven, the God of the sparrow, and not one can fall without Him? Put it home to your heart-is that the Father you trust? If one points to a dead sparrow in the street and says, "without your Father that sparrow did not fall to the ground-and he counts the hairs of your head."