How strange a providence is this

Fri 17 Sep 1762: At one I preached in Illogan; at six near Redruth, at a gentleman’s house, in a large court, shaded with trees. It was so calm that hardly a leaf moved. Saturday I preached once more in the street at Redruth, and in St. Agnes in the evening. I preached again at eight in the morning, and afterwards heard an excellent sermon at church, preached by the Rector, Mr. Walker, elder brother to the late Mr. Walker of Truro. He likewise gave notice of his design to preach, in the afternoon, a funeral sermon for Mr. Phelps, his late Curate, a man eminently humble, serious, and zealous for God. He was snatched away by a fever three weeks since, as was his predecessor, Mr. Vowler, three or four years before; another upright, zealous servant of God, and indefatigable in his labour. How strange a providence is this! Who can account for it? Did the God of love take them away, that they might not, out of zeal for him, continue to oppose their fellow-labourers in the Gospel?
Mr. Walker gave him his due praise, in a strong and pathetic sermon, well wrote and well pronounced; concluding with, "God grant me, (and I believe you will all join in the petition,) like him to live, like him to die."
Just as the Service was ended, it began to rain. The wind also was exceeding high; this created some difficulty. No house could contain the people, neither could I preach, as before, on the top of the hill. I therefore made a halt at the bottom. The congregation gathered round me in a few minutes. We were tolerably sheltered from the wind, and the rain ceased till I had done. I particularly advised all that feared God to confirm their love to each other, and to prevoke each other, not to doubtful disputations, but to love, and to good works.
The night came on soon after we were on horseback, and we had eight miles to ride. In about half an hour, it was so dark, I could not see my hand, and it rained incessantly. However, a little after eight, God brought us safe to Cubert.