Thus much as to the beautiful institution of the silver trumpet, which we shall not pursue further now, though, as we have noticed above, it is not confined, in its application, to Israel in the wilderness, but is bound up with their entire history right onward to the end. Thus we have the feast of trumpets, the trumpet of the jubilee, the blowing of trumpets over their sacrifices, upon which we do not now dwell, as our immediate object is to help the reader to seize the grand idea presented in the opening paragraph of our chapter. May the Holy Spirit impress upon our hearts the needed lesson of “the silver trumpets.” * * * * * We have now reached, in our meditations on this precious book, the moment in the which the camp is called to move forward. All is duly ordered, according to that grand regulator, “the commandment of the Lord.” Each man according to his pedigree, and each tribe according to the standard thereof, is in the divinely appointed place. The Levites are at their post, each with his own clearly defined work to do. Full provision is made for the cleansing of the camp from every species of defilement; and not only so, but the lofty standard of personal holiness is unfurled, and the fruits of active benevolence are presented. Then we have the golden candlestick and its seven lamps, giving forth their pure and precious light. We have the pillar of fire and of cloud; and finally, the double testimony of the silver trumpet. In short, nothing is lacking to the pilgrim host. A vigilant eye, a powerful hand, and a loving heart have provided for every possible contingency, so that the whole congregation in the wilderness, and each member in particular, might be “thoroughly furnished.” This is only what we might expect. If God undertakes to provide for any one, or for any people, the provision must, of necessity, be perfect. It is wholly impossible that God could omit any one thing needful. He knows all things and can do all things. Nothing can escape His vigilant eye; nothing is beyond His omnipotent hand. Hence, therefore, all those who can truly say, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” may add, without hesitancy or reserve, “I shall not want.” The soul that is, in truth and reality, leaning on the arm of the living God can never—shall never—want any _good_ thing. The poor foolish heart may imagine a thousand wants; but God knows what we really want, and He will provide for ALL. Thus, then, the camp is ready to move; but, strange to say, there is a departure from the order laid down in the opening of the book. The ark of the covenant, instead of reposing in the bosom of the camp, goes in the very front. In other words, Jehovah, instead of remaining in the centre of the congregation to be waited upon there, actually condescends, in His marvelous, illimitable grace, to do the work of an _avant-courier_ for His people.