J.R. Miller: A Brief Remembrance

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It was said of J.R. Miller, the Presbyterian minister and devotional writer that “he kept a complete record of all the important dates in the lives of his people — birthdays, wedding anniversaries, et cetera — and he marked each of these by sending a short letter of remembrance” (J.T. Faris, The Life of Dr. J. R. Miller: "Jesus and I are Friends” [1912], p. 168).

At Log College Press, we too try to remember the important dates in the lives of “our people,” those men and women from the past whose lives and writings continue to live on and touch our readers today. Today we remember J.R. Miller who was born on this day in history, March 20, 1840.

He was born in Beaver County, Pennsylvania and raised in a Presbyterian home where he was taught Scripture, the Shorter Catechism and Matthew Henry’s Bible commentary, while family worship was practiced daily. His profession of faith was made in an Associate Presbyterian church in 1857, which became part of the United Presbyterian Church (UPCNA) a year later.

During the War Between the States he served in the U.S. Christian Commission from 1863 to 1865. He studied at Westminster College and at Allegheny Theological Seminary in Pennsylvania before entering the ministry and becoming ordained in the UPCNA in 1867. He later came to have scruples about the practice of exclusive psalmody to which his family and his church held. And thus he joined the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (PCUSA), the denomination in which he remained for the rest of his life, just nine days after the Old and New School branches reunited in 1869.

In 1880, he began editorial work for the Presbyterian Board of Publication in Philadelphia, and he also published his first book, Week Day Religion. He would go on to write many more books, and numerous articles. He was extremely popular in his day for his devotional contributions to Christian literature. His biographer wrote in 1912 that copies of his published books had sold over 2 million copies.

Throughout his life and his careers as a pastor and an author, Miller reflected the values that were instilled in him and which were important to him. He loved the Lord Jesus Christ and as a consequence loved others well. A younger minister once asked him the secret of success in the ministry. He replied thus in a letter:

Cultivate love for Christ and then live for your work. It goes without saying that the supreme motive in every minister’s life should be the love of Christ. ‘The love of Christ strengtheneth me,’ was the keynote of St. Paul’s marvellous ministry. But this is not all. If a man is swayed by the love of Christ he must also have in his heart love for his fellow men. If I were to give you what I believe is one of the secrets of my own life, it is, that I have always loved people. I have had an intense desire all of my life to help people in every way; not merely to help them into the church, but to help them in their personal experiences, in their struggles and temptations, their quest for the best things in character. I have loved other people with an absorbing devotion. I have always felt that I should go anywhere, do any personal service, and help any individual, even the lowliest and the highest. The Master taught me this in the washing of His disciples’ feet, which showed His heart in being willing to do anything to serve His friends. If you want to have success as a winner of men, as a helper of people, as a pastor of little children, as the friend of the tempted and imperilled, you must love them and have a sincere desire to do them good (The Life of Dr. J. R. Miller: "Jesus and I are Friends,” pp. 87-88).

And this illustration speaks to the eternal truth of what Dr. Miller lived and practiced:

Love is never lost. Nothing that love does is ever forgotten. Long, long afterwards the poet found his song, from beginning to end, in the heart of a friend. Love shall find some day every song it has ever sung, sweetly treasured and singing yet in the hearts into which it was breathed. It is a pretty legend of the origin of the pearl which says that a star fell into the sea, and a shellfish, opening its mouth, received it, when the star became a pearl in the shell. The words of love’s greeting as we hurry by fall into our hearts, not to be lost, but to become pearls and to stay there forever (The Life of Dr. J. R. Miller: "Jesus and I are Friends,” pp. 204).

In his last days, while he was ill, the General Assembly of the PCUSA sent him a message of sympathy and encouragement. In fact, he himself was still working on The Book of Comfort when the end came and he entered into his eternal rest. J.R. Miller died on July 2, 1912, and was laid to rest at the West Laurel Hill Cemetery in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania. A simple service was held for the occasion which included prayer, the recitation of the Twenty-Third Psalm, the singing by a soloist of “He Will Lead His Flock Like a Shepherd” from Handel’s Messiah, and the congregational singing of a favorite hymn.

Several of his books were devotionals meant to be read throughout the year. It seems fitting to conclude this brief remembrance of J.R. Miller with an extract from one of them, Dr. Miller's Year Book: A Year's Daily Readings (1895), from the very date of his birthday.

J.R. Miller: A Lesson to be Learned from Hellen Keller

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Helen Keller is an inspirational figure in history because of her remarkable achievements despite extraordinary handicaps. With the patient instruction of her teacher, Annie Sullivan, Helen Keller was able to overcome tremendous obstacles. Keller was religious (and counted among her friends the famous Presbyterian minister Henry Jackson Van Dyke, Jr.), but not in the orthodox sense; in her book, My Religion (1927), she claimed to be a Swedenborgian. However, despite that theological perspective, one cannot consider her remarkable life without an appreciation for her amazing story.

J.R. Miller, in his chapter on “Courage to Live Nobly,”* writes of a lesson that can be gleaned from the life of Helen Keller.

Some of us are dimly aware of the great possibilities in us, yet lack the energy and the earnestness necessary to release our imprisoned faculties and give them wing. One of the most wonderful stories of the conquest of difficulty is that of Helen Keller. She was blind, she was deaf, she could not speak. Her soul was hidden away in an impenetrable darkness. Yet she has overcome all these seemingly invincible obstacles and barriers and now stands in the ranks of intelligence and scholarship. We have a glimpse of what goes on in her brave soul in such words as these: “Sometimes, it is true, a sense of isolation enfolds me like a cold mist as I sit alone and wait at life’s shut gate. Beyond, there is life and music and sweet companionship; but I may not enter. Fate, silent, pitiless, bars the way. Fain would I question His imperious decree; for my heart is still undisciplined and passionate; but my tongue will not utter the bitter, futile words that rise to my lips, and they fall back into my heart like unshed tears. Silence sits immense on my soul. Then comes hope with a smile and whispers, ‘There is joy in self-forgetfulness.’ So I try to make the light in others’ eyes my sun, the music in others’ ears my symphony, the smile on others’ lips my happiness.”

Helen Keller, in one little sentence that she has written, discloses the secret of all that she has achieved and attained. This resolve, she herself says, has been the keynote of her life. “I resolved to regard as mere impertinences of fate the handicaps which were placed about my life almost at the beginning. I resolved that they should not dwarf my soul, but, rather, should be made to blossom, like Aaron’s rod that budded.”

Some of us, with no such hindrances, with no such walls and barriers imprisoning our being, with almost nothing in the way of the full development of our powers, with everything favorable thereto, have scarcely found our souls. We have eyes, but we see not the glory of God about us and above us. We have ears, but we hear not the music of divine love which sings all round us. It may not always be easy for us to learn to know the blessed things of God which fill all the world. But if we had half the eagerness that Helen Keller has shown in overcoming hindrances, half the energy, think how far we would be advanced to-day! We would then regard as mere impertinences of fate the handicaps which are about us, making it hard for us to reach out and find the best things of life. We would not allow our souls to be dwarfed by any hindrances, but would struggle on until we are free from all shackles and restraints, and until we have grown into the full beauty of Christ.

Sometimes young people are heard complaining of their condition or circumstances as excuse for their making so little of their lives. Because they are poor, and no rich friend gives them money to help them, or because they have some physical infirmity or hindrance, or because they have not had good early advantages, they give up and submit to stay where they are. The story of Helen Keller should shame all such yielding to the small inconveniences and obstacles that best young people in ordinary conditions. They should regard their limitations and hindrances as only impertinences, to be bravely set aside by undismayed and unconquerable energy, or rather, as barriers set not to obstruct the way but to nerve and stimulate them to heroic endeavor before which all obstacles will vanish.

* J.R. Miller, When the Song Begins (1905), pp. 192-195; J.R. Miller, The Blossom of Thorns (1905), pp. 192-195

May this meditation for the day bring inspiration to consider how we may persevere in the face of obstacles in the strength of Christ to overcome, and to see more than we did before, and hear more than we can now, and to speak and do more to the praise of God.

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A New Year's Prayer

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James W. Weir (1805-1878) was a Presbyterian ruling elder for 44 years (from 1834 until his death in 1878) at the Presbyterian Church in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. He was a godly man who made a deep impression upon many who knew him.

John DeWitt’s mention of him in an 1894 sermon on the Beginnings of Presbyterianism in the Middle Colonies speaks volumes:

I dare not trust myself to speak of the tender personal associations and the sacred memories which make a return to Harrisburg almost a holy pilgrimage. For, though I am tempted to be very free and personal to-day, I must pause before I stir up the deepest fountains of feeling in you and in myself. But I cannot forbear to say, that every Harrisburger, who is also a son of this church, must feel himself made better by returning to the place in which that man of God and friend of man, James Wallace Weir, so long did justice and loved mercy and walked humbly with his God.

He is primarily known today for the devotional manual The Closet Companion; or, Manual of Prayer: Consisting of Topics and Brief Forms of Prayer, Designed to Assist Christians in Their Devotions (1854), published with an introduction by Albert Barnes.

From this volume we extract a suggested prayer for the New Year which is worthy of meditation at the close of one year and the beginning of another.

O thou God of the rolling seasons, I thank thee for thy mercies to me during the last year. There has not been an hour nor a moment of it, which has not brought me tokens of thy care and kindness. Assist me now to bring its transactions, in which I have been engaged, in solemn review before my conscience. Though the record of them is fast wasting away from the treacherous tablet of my memory, yet they are written, as with a pen of iron, on the books of thy remembrance; where they will remain until that fearful hour of trial, when the books shall be opened, and all men shall be judged out of the things that are written therein, whether they be good or evil.

Lord, I desire to acknowledge before thee, with godly sorrow, that I have neglected many duties, and abused many privileges, during the past year. My heart, and my lips, and my hands, have often been agents of transgression. Many of thy mercies have been ungratefully perverted or forgotten; and thy chastenings have often been despised or unheeded. O, my tongue would grow weary, and my heart would sicken, if I should undertake to recite all my iniquities before thee. Help me, I pray thee, for the sake of our Great Advocate, to repent over them, to loathe and forsake them, and to look to thee for strength, that the time past of my life may suffice to have wrought the deeds of the flesh, and that henceforth I may live to the will of God.

O Lord, I desire to enter the coming year, feeling the solemn responsibilities of human life. I know not what a day may bring forth, nor what the approaching months may reveal respecting me: except that they will bring me so much nearer eternity, and be full of records of my growth in grace, or of my backslidings from thy holy law. Yet I thank thee that my span of life is still lengthened out, and that I am still permitted to enjoy the precious opportunities that have been vouchsafed to me in days past. O God, assist me, I beseech thee, to discharge aright all the duties that lie before me. Make me understand the uncertainty of time, the worth of my soul, the multiplied interests of my fellow-travellers to eternity, and the righteous claims of thy service. Make me watchful against the many dangers to which I am exposed. Strengthen my love to thee; deepen my convictions of sin; animate my desires after holiness; increase my spirit of prayer; enlarge my benevolence; and lead me in thine own way, for thy name’s sake. Protect me by thy care; supply me by thy bounty; and grant me an increasing meetness for that state, where these changing seasons will give place to an endless life.

Lord, make this opening year, a year of the right hand of the Most High. Pour the healing balm of peace on all the bleeding wounds of thy church. Spread over her the spotless mantle of purity. Invigorate her by the reviving power of truth. Awaken her to renewed efforts in doing good. O may these months stand forth in the history of redemption, as precious seasons of refreshing from thy holy and life-giving presence.

This a devotional manual full of treasures which can be read here. And, if you are seeking a devotional read for the New Year (see our recommendations from years past here and here), be sure to consult our Devotionals page (available to members of the Dead Presbyterians Society). Meanwhile, it is our prayer that the New Year would be filled with joy and peace for our readers, and that we would all, by the grace of God, walk closer with our Lord. The Lord bless and keep you in the palm of his hand.

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George Burrowes: The Christian life is a series of revivals

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I sleep, but my heart waketh. — Song of Solomon 5:2

Commenting on this text of Scripture, George Burrowes takes occasion to expound upon the nature of the spiritual ups and downs of the Christian life more largely in descriptive terms to which experienced believers can well relate.

This passage, to the end of ver. 8, illustrates the exercises of the soul in a time of spiritual sloth and decay. After thus unfolding to us his love, he lets us, as in this passage, see our depravity and indifference. Our religious life consists of a series of revivals and of withdrawals by Jesus, for calling into exercise and putting to the test our graces. When under the influence of first love, we determine never to forget the Saviour, and think the thing almost impossible. After some experience of the deceitfulness of the heart, when at some subsequent period we have had our souls restored and made to lie down in green pastures, beside the still waters, we resolve again to be faithful in close adherence to our Lord, under the impression, that with our present knowledge of the workings of sin, and the glorious displays made to us of the loveliness of Christ, and of his love towards us personally, we shall now at length persevere; but we soon find to our sorrow, that, left to ourselves, we are as unsteady and unfaithful as ever. It is surprising how quickly coldness will succeed great religious fervour. To the experienced believer it will not appear strange, that this divine allegory should bring this representation of indifference to the beloved into such immediate connection with the remarkable expressions of Jesus' love contained in the foregoing chapter. Where is the Christian who has not found the truth of this in his own experience? The three chosen disciples were overcome with lethargy even on the mount of transfiguration; and immediately after the first affecting sacrament, they not only fell asleep in Gethsemane, but all forsook Jesus and fled; while Peter added thereto a denial of his Lord, with profane swearing. While the bridegroom tarried, even the wise virgins with oil in their lamps, slumbered and slept. After endearing manifestations of Jesus' love, how soon do we find ourselves falling into spiritual slumber — often, like the disciples on the mount, under the full light of the presence of the Holy Spirit. And after periods of revival, in the same way will churches speedily show signs of sinking down into former coldness.

Burrowes speaks similarly concerning Song of Solomon 2:8-9: “The Christian life is a series of visits and withdrawals of our Lord, of revivals of grace in the heart and exposure to trials.”

He himself walked through valleys and climbed mountaintops. In a nod to Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, that brilliant allegory of the Christian life, Burrowes writes elsewhere: “The Delectable Mountains and the River of the Water of Life, cannot be reached by the pilgrim without passing through the Valley of Humiliation and the Valley of the Shadow of Death” (Advanced Growth in Grace, 1868). James Curry writes in a biographical sketch of Burrowes found in his History of the San Francisco Theological Seminary, p. 62:

He was a Christian of deep and humble piety, and had at various times all through his mature life remarkable religious experiences. He attributed them to the presence and influence of the Holy Spirit. After one of these experiences he wrote:

"Had I stood with Moses on the top of Pisgah my soul could hardly have had such delightful emotions as those now felt." Again he wrote: "When I arise in the morning and come into my study, here I find Jesus already waiting for me, and I meet Him with delight of heart.” "I can scarcely conceive of anything more desirable in Heaven than merely to have these feelings made perfect, and the union with Jesus completed by my being brought to be with Him where He is to behold His glory."

Each of us has our own unique path to follow when we take up our cross to follow our Savior. Solomon himself elsewhere teaches that “The heart knoweth his own bitterness; and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy” (Prov. 14:10). If the same Shepherd leads one through a valley of the shadow of death, while another is led through a different sort of trial or grants a season of encouragement, be assured that our Lord is the only truly faithful guide. Each day, by the grace of God, we must do the hard work of sanctification, and though some days will be sweeter than others, we must walk by faith and not by sight (Heb. 11:13) with our eyes fixed on Jesus (Heb. 12:1). The soul that longs for Jesus in a dry and thirsty land (Ps. 63:1) will experience both nights of tears and mornings of gladness (Ps. 30:5), but in the words of many saints who have gone before, Heaven will make amends for all.

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B.B. Warfield: We are called "not to unselfing ourselves, but to unselfishing ourselves"

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The Christian is called to endurance (2 Tim. 4:5) and self-denial (Luke 9:23-24) in this life, but not to monasticism or stoicism. B.B. Warfield explains the nuances of this distinction most ably in a sermon from The Saviour of the World (1913) titled “Imitating the Incarnation,” pp. 265-270. In the eloquent words below, Warfield also teaches us what it means to follow Christ’s example of humility in the truest sense, and what that looks like and leads to for the Christian on earth and into eternity.

…it is difficult to set a limit to the self-sacrifice which the example of Christ calls upon us to be ready to undergo for the good of our brethren. It is comparatively easy to recognize that the ideal of the Christian life is self-sacrificing unselfishness, and to allow that it is required of those who seek to enter into it, to subordinate self and to seek first the kingdom of God. But is it so easy to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that this is to be read not generally merely but in detail, and is to be applied not only to some eminent saints but to all who would be Christ's servants? — that it is required of us, and that what is required of us is not some self-denial but all self-sacrifice? Yet is it not to this that the example of Christ would lead us? — not, of course, to self-degradation, not to self-effacement exactly, but to complete self-abnegation, entire and ungrudging self-sacrifice? Is it to be unto death itself? Christ died. Are we to endure wrongs? What wrongs did He not meekly bear? Are we to surrender our clear and recognized rights ? Did Christ stand upon His unquestioned right of retaining His equality with God? Are we to endure unnatural evils, permit ourselves to be driven into inappropriate situations, unresistingly sustain injurious and unjust imputations and attacks? What more unnatural than that the God of the universe should become a servant in the world, ministering not to His Father only, but also to His creatures, — our Lord and Master washing our very feet ? What more abhorrent than that God should die? There is no length to which Christ's self-sacrifice did not lead Him. These words are dull and inexpressive; we cannot enter into thoughts so high. He who was in the form of God took such thought for us, that He made no account of Himself. Into the immeasurable calm of the divine blessedness He permitted this thought to enter, "I will die for men!" And so mighty was His love, so colossal the divine purpose to save, that He thought nothing of His divine majesty, nothing of His unsullied blessedness, nothing of His equality with God, but, absorbed in us,—our needs, our misery, our helplessness — He made no account of Himself. If this is to be our example, what limit can we set to our self-sacrifice? Let us remember that we are no longer our own but Christ's, bought with the price of His precious blood, and are henceforth to live, not for ourselves but for Him, — for Him in His creatures, serving Him in serving them. Let all thought of our dignity, our possessions, our rights, perish out of sight, when Christ's service calls to us. Let the mind be in us that was also in Him, when He took no account of Himself, but, God as He was, took the form of a servant and humbled Himself, — He who was Lord, — to lowly obedience even unto death, and that the death of the cross. In such a mind as this, where is the end of unselfishness?

Let us not, however, do the apostle the injustice of fancying that this is a morbid life to which he summons us. The self-sacrifice to which he exhorts us, unlimited as it is, going all lengths and starting back blanched at nothing, is nevertheless not an unnatural life. After all, it issues not in the destruction of self, but only in the destruction of selfishness; it leads us not to a Buddha-like unselfing, but to a Christ-like self-development. It would not make us into

deedless dreamers lazying out a life
Of self-suppression, not of selfless love,

but would light the flames of a love within us by which we would literally "ache for souls." The example of Christ and the exhortation of Paul found themselves upon a sense of the unspeakable value of souls. Our Lord took no account of Himself, only because the value of the souls of men pressed upon His heart. And following Him, we are not to consider our own things, but those of others, just because everything earthly that concerns us is as nothing compared with their eternal welfare.

Our self-abnegation is thus not for our own sake, but for the sake of others. And thus it is not to mere self-denial that Christ calls us, but specifically to self-sacrifice: not to unselfing ourselves, but to unselfishing ourselves. Self-denial for its own sake is in its very nature ascetic, monkish. It concentrates our whole attention on self — self-knowledge, self-control — and can therefore eventuate in nothing other than the very apotheosis of selfishness. At best it succeeds only in subjecting the outer self to the inner self, or the lower self to the higher self; and only the more surely falls into the slough of self-seeking, that it partially conceals the selfishness of its goal by refining its ideal of self and excluding its grosser and more outward elements. Self-denial, then, drives to the cloister; narrows and contracts the soul; murders within us all innocent desires, dries up all the springs of sympathy, and nurses and coddles our self-importance until we grow so great in our own esteem as to be careless of the trials and sufferings, the joys and aspirations, the strivings and failures and successes of our fellow-men. Self-denial, thus understood, will make us cold, hard, unsympathetic, — proud, arrogant, self-esteeming, — fanatical, overbearing, cruel. It may make monks and Stoics, — it cannot make Christians.

It is not to this that Christ's example calls us. He did not cultivate self, even His divine self: He took no account of self. He was not led by His divine impulse out of the world, driven back into the recesses of His own soul to brood morbidly over His own needs, until to gain His own seemed worth all sacrifice to Him. He was led by His love for others into the world, to forget Himself in the needs of others, to sacrifice self once for all upon the altar of sympathy. Self-sacrifice brought Christ into the world. And self-sacrifice will lead us. His followers, not away from but into the midst of men. Wherever men suffer, there will we be to comfort. Wherever men strive, there will we be to help. Wherever men fail, there will be we to uplift. Wherever men succeed, there will we be to rejoice. Self-sacrifice means not indifference to our times and our fellows: it means absorption in them. It means forgetfulness of self in others. It means entering into every man's hopes and fears, longings and despairs: it means manysidedness of spirit, multiform activity, multiplicity of sympathies. It means richness of development. It means not that we should live one life, but a thousand lives, — binding ourselves to a thousand souls by the filaments of so loving a sympathy that their lives become ours. It means that all the experiences of men shall smite our souls and shall beat and batter these stubborn hearts of ours into fitness for their heavenly home. It is, after all, then, the path to the highest possible development, by which alone we can be made truly men.

Not that we shall undertake it with this end in view. This were to dry up its springs at their source. We cannot be self-consciously self-forgetful, selfishly unselfish. Only, when we humbly walk this path, seeking truly in it not our own things but those of others, we shall find the promise true, that he who loses his life shall find it. Only, when, like Christ, and in loving obedience to His call and example, we take no account of ourselves, but freely give ourselves to others, we shall find, each in his measure, the saying true of himself also: "Wherefore also God hath highly exalted him." The path of self-sacrifice is the path to glory.

May this indeed be the attitude of Christians who desire to seek the path of true humility. Not that we must leave the world and deny our existence or focus only on the internal, but that instead we must pour out ourselves in the service of Christ and our neighbor, to “spend and be spent” (2 Cor. 12:15), and wherever there is need, to give all for Christ. In this way, in losing our life for Christ’s sake, we shall truly find it.

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New Year's Wishes From Log College Press

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“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." — Ps. 90:12

At the close of 2021, we at Log College Press wish to thank you, our dear readers, for your support and encouragement.

In years past, we have highlighted New Year’s sermons and meditations by Samuel Davies, Francis James Grimké, Benjamin Morgan Palmer, Henry Augustus Boardman, George Barrell Cheever, Elias Harrison, Erskine Mason, Gardiner Spring and others. This year we turn the spotlight on a message from Thomas DeWitt Talmage: Standards For the Measurement of Life: A New Year’s Sermon (1899).

How do evaluate or measure our mortal existence? That is a question for all of us, and an appropriate one at the close of one year and the beginning of another. Based on the text from Genesis 47:8 (“How old art thou?”), Talmage asks us to consider whether we are using a good standard to measure our time spent on this earth. As he notes, there are wrong ways to measure our time, and a right way. There are some, he says, who measure their years by the money they make, or the joys or sorrows they experience. “They say, ‘The year 1866, or 1870, or 1898 was wasted.’ Why? ‘Made no money.’” But hear how Talmage concludes the matter.

I remark again: there are many — and I wish there were more — who are estimating life by the good they can do.

John Bradford said he counted that day nothing at all in which he had not, by pen or tongue, done some good. There have been men who have given their whole life in the right direction, concentrating all their wit and ingenuity and mental acumen and physical force and enthusiasm for Christ. They felt in the thrill of every nerve, in the motion of every muscle, in every throb of their heart, in every respiration of their lungs, the magnificent truth: “No man liveth unto himself.” They went, through cold and through heat, foot-blistered, cheek-smitten, back-scourged, tempest-lasht, to do their whole duty. That is the way they measured life — by the amount of good they could do.

Do you want to know how old Luther was; how old Richard Baxter was; how old Philip Doddridge was? Why, can not calculate the length of their lives by any human arithmetic. Add to their lives ten thousand times ten thousand years, and you have not exprest it — what they have lived or will live. Oh, what a standard that is to measure a man’s life by? There are those in this house who think they have only lived thirty years. They will have lived a thousand — they have lived a thousand. There are those who think they are eighty years of age. They have not even entered upon their infancy, for one must become a babe in Christ to begin at all.

This is a good day in which to begin a new style of measurement. “How old art thou?” You see the Christian way of measuring life and the worldly way of measuring it. I leave it to you to say which is the wisest and best way.

As 2021 comes to an end, and we look ahead to 2022, we encourage our readers to consider Talmage’s message about how we measure our days, and to meditate upon the words of the Psalmist above. We are excited about the growing number of resources available at Log College Press to aid in the study of spiritual devotion, the Christian life, church history, Christian biography and much more. And we are grateful for the input of all those who continue to support and encourage us in our endeavors. May the Lord bless richly bless you and yours in the coming New Year!

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Archibald Alexander on Prayer as a Means of Grace

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The fourteenth chapter of the Westminster Confession of Faith provides instruction concerning saving faith. In the opening paragraph, the following is stated:

The grace of faith, whereby the elect are enabled to believe to the saving of their souls, is the work of the Spirit of Christ in their hearts, and is ordinarily wrought by the ministry of the Word, by which also, and by the administration of the sacraments, and prayer, it is increased and strengthened.

By the infinite, eternal, and unchanging mercy of God, saving faith in Jesus Christ is instigated in a redeemed sinner’s heart by the work of the Holy Spirit; saving faith is a testimony to God’s grace (Jn. 3:8; 1 Cor. 12:3; Eph. 2:8; Titus 3:5). Furthermore, the confession teaches that saving faith is “ordinarily wrought by the ministry of the Word.” That is to say, that it is the normal course of action for the Holy Spirit to instigate saving faith through the reading, but especially, the preaching of God’s inspired Word. The apostle Paul testified to this when he penned the following:

How then shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? And how shall they believe in Him of whom they have not heard? And how shall they hear without a preacher? (cf., Matt. 28:19-20; 1 Cor. 1:21).

Therefore, in echoing the authoritative teaching of God’s Word, the Westminster Confession has properly recognized that the Spirit ordinary initiates saving faith through the preaching of His Word. However, the confession also describes how saving faith is “increased and strengthened,” and it happens by the administration of the sacraments and prayer. Collectively, the preaching of God’s Word, the administration of the sacraments, and prayer are known as the “ordinary means of God’s grace” by which the Christian believes and is matured in his faith (see Westminster Larger Catechism Q&A 154). 

Admittedly, there is much to be said about how the preaching of Scripture and administration of the sacraments are a means of grace, but this essay is reserved for considering prayer in this regard and what our Presbyterian forefather, Archibald Alexander, had to say about it.

To arrive at how prayer is a means by which the Spirit strengthens a Christian’s faith, it should be understood what prayer is. The Westminster Shorter Catechism defines prayer as “an offering up of our desires unto God, for things agreeable to his will, in the name of Christ, with confession of our sins, and thankful acknowledgment of his mercies” (Q&A 98; see Ps. 10:17; 62:8; Matt. 6:9-13; 7:7-8; Jn. 16:23-24; 1 Jn. 1:9; 5:14).  While there are several elements to prayer noted, of importance is what the given definition of prayer assumes﹘it presupposes that there is access to the God of mercy. Hence, because of Christ’s accomplished work of salvation, redeemed sinners may offer up their desires unto God in order that they might be recipients of His grace. Thus, the author to the Hebrews has written:

Let us, therefore, come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need (Hebrews 4:16).

This is the essence of why prayer is a means of God’s grace. By prayer, the Christian may come before the throne of grace and find refuge in the Lord. Prayer is communion with the triune God and to commune with Him is no insignificant matter s the following verses reveal:

Lord, You have heard the desire of the humble; You will prepare their heart; You will cause Your ear to hear… (Ps. 10:17).

Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us (Psalm 62:8).

Accordingly, Archibald Alexander has also written of this matter in a small article titled “Prayer A Privilege” [Practical Truths (1857), pp. 36-38] Therefore, in an attempt to elaborate on the significance of prayer as a means of grace, consider Alexander’s thoughts from his article:

Although God is everywhere present, yet he is invisible. He is an all-pervading Spirit, yet is perceived by none of our senses. We behold his glorious works in the heavens and in the earth, and may learn something, by careful observation, of the general laws by which the material universe is governed; but still the great Architect is concealed. As far as reason can lead us, we seem to be shut out from all intercourse with our Maker; and whether prayer is permitted would remain for ever doubtful, were it not for divine revelation. We are not surprised, therefore, that some deists have denied that prayer is a duty, or that it can be available to the Deity. Indeed, considering man as a sinner, it would seem presumptuous for such a creature to obtrude himself into the presence of a holy God. Natural religion, as it is called, is not at all suited to the wants of sinners, but divine revelation teaches us that God may be acceptably approached by sinners only through the mediation of his Son.

Prayer is everywhere in the Bible recognized as proper and inculcated as a duty. But it is also a most precious privilege, one of the richest blessings conferred on man. It opens a method of intercourse and communion with our Father in heaven; it furnishes a refuge for the soul oppressed with sin and sorrow; it affords an opportunity to the heart overwhelmed with an intolerable weight of misery to unburden itself, to pour its griefs into the ear of one who can pity and help.

The moral effect of prayer is important. It humbles the soul, and excites veneration for the august and holy character of God. But though prayer brings into exercise the noblest acts and emotions of which our nature is capable, yet it would be a grand mistake to confine the efficacy of prayer to their moral effects. Prayer, when offered in faith, for things agreeable to the will of God, actually obtains for the petitioner the blessings which he needs. It has an efficacy to obtain forgiveness of sins, the gift of the Holy Spirit, and deliverance from a thousand evils. Prayer enters into the ears of the Lord of sabaoth; the prayer of faith is the mightiest engine upon earth. The Lord of heaven has given his word to answer prayer. He will be inquired of by his people, that he may bless them.

God can make any means effectual; and among the instituted means for the government of the world, and the preservation and comfort of his people, prayer holds a high place. The objection that God is immutable, and knows what we need, has no more force against prayer than any other means—no more force than if urged against the necessity of cultivating the ground in order to obtain a crop, or receiving food to nourish the body. The Christian life is sustained by prayer. By it every grace is exercised, every blessing is obtained. Without the sincere desires of the heart, prayer is nothing; it is worse—it is a mockery. He is the best Christian who prays most. As God is ever near to us, “for in him we live, and move, and have our being,” we are permitted to hold intercourse with him at all times, and in all places. We are commanded to “pray without ceasing”—to “be instant in prayer”—to “pray everywhere, lifting up holy hands.”

In prayer there is not only an outgoing of the soul to God, in acts of faith, love, and confidence, but there is an actual communication from God to the soul. Prayer is a holy converse—a fellowship with God. One hour spent in prayer, will accomplish more good than many employed in study or labor. Surely, then, it is good to draw nigh to God.

Indeed, prayer is a privilege, and it is a privilege precisely because it is a means of strengthening saving faith. Thus, the Christian life ought to be filled with the joy of communing with the triune God in prayer.

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Advice to Lennie from Charles Hodge

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Hugh Lenox Scott — son William McKendree Scott, and grandson of Charles Hodge — who became a famed U.S. military officer, once wrote that

I was brought up a Presbyterian of the Presbyterians in Princeton within a stone's throw of Princeton Seminary, the very essence of Presbyterianism in America.

When he graduated from West Point Military Academy in 1876, his grandfather gave him a Bible inscribed with the following message:

Dear Lennie,

• Never pass a day without reading the Bible and calling upon God in prayer.

• Learn to pray always. The Lord Jesus is ever near you. It does not take long to pray: “Lord preserve me: Lord help me; Lord keep me from sin.” We need to say this a hundred times a day.

• Never gamble.

• Never drink intoxicating liquor.

• Never use profane language.

• Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth.

• Never incur debt.

• Live peaceable with all men.

• Never be afraid to confess Christ.

• Let your last words every night be: “I take Jesus Christ to be my God and Saviour.”

• May the blessing of God be upon always and everywhere.

Your loving grandfather,
Charles Hodge
Princeton, Sept. 15, 1876

Source: Paul C. Gutjahr, Charles Hodge: Guardian of American Orthodoxy, p. 320

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Zebulon Butler's charge to the new President of Oakland College

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In December 1851, following the tragic murder of President Jeremiah Chamberlain three months before, Oakland College in Lorman, Mississippi (now known as Alcorn State University) inaugurated a new President, Robert L. Stanton. On that occasion the charge to the new President was delivered by Zebulon Butler, who had helped to pioneer Presbyterianism in the area around Port Gibson, Mississippi.

Rev. Butler’s inspirational words that day are worthy of remembrance.

Let the Presidents in other Colleges strive for literary distinction, and be held to duty by the charm of wealth, or the world’s coveted otium cum dignitate; be it ever your aim, to please our Master and glorify his name.
…
This College is the child of Religion; and over its interests the Omnipotent Redeemer will ever keep a sleepless watch. To its members, you must exhibit, in doctrine, an unalloyed evangelism, with the mingling of sectarianism; and in practice, all the loveliness of Christian character, undimmed by worldliness, selfishness, intolerance, or ostentation.

I would then, most earnestly entreat you, as a co-worker in the cause of Letters and Religion, to enter upon this noble enterprize in the spirit of untainted benevolence, and unflinching fortitude; and resolved on continuance, despite of toil, disappointment, opposition, poverty, sickness, or “any of the ills which flesh is heir to,” and to which virtue is exposed. You have a bring example in the life and character of your martyred predecessor, whose noble deeds we this day commemorate. He found not “the primrose path of dalliance,” but the constant fight of faith: and by his toils, his tears, and his blood, we hope he has achieved the conquest. And yours may be a work of comparative repose, in building up this Institution, in the sylvan shades of Mississippi. Yes, I am certain, you have been moved by the impulse of holy benevolence, and a willingness “to spend, and be spent” in the cause of Truth, and for the interests of our race.

Such being our views and sentiments, in the name of the Board of Directors and Trustees, I promise you our sympathies, our prayers, and our faithful cooperation, in your work of faith and labor of love; and if we prove, reciprocally, “steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord,” we are infallibly assured, that this Institution shall advance and improve, till it shall be the proudest monument and richest blessing of which Mississippi can boast.

With such words was the tenure of Rev. Stanton inaugurated as President of Oakland College. He went on to serve as Moderator of the PCUSA General Assembly in 1866. But as we recall the events of that day in December 1851, the charge of Rev. Butler may inspire others, even beyond the “sylvan shades of Mississippi,” to aspire, by the help of the Holy Spirit, to both virtuous Christian conduct as well as excellence in scholarship.

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Geerhardus Vos on the Fruits of the Spirit

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But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law (Gal. 5:22-23).

In 1915, James Hastings published his Dictionary of the Apostolic Church in 2 volumes for which Geerhardus Vos contributed nine articles. Many of these address the fruits of the Spirit as outlined in Galatians 5:22-23. Together, they constitute a rich and insightful description of the virtues and graces of the Christian life.

Articles he wrote, which have recently been added to Log College include Brotherly Love / Love, Goodness, Joy, Peace, Longsuffering. He also wrote on Kindness and Pity / Compassion. In the first article, he writes:

Religious love in general is a supernatural product. It originates not spontaneously from a sinful soil, but in response to the sovereign love of God. and that under the influence of the Spirit (Ro 5.5-8, 1 Co 8.3 [where 'is known of him' = 'has become the object of his love']. Gal 4.9 [where 'to be known by God' has the same pregnant sense], 1 Jn 4.10-19). Love for the brethren specifically is also a product of regeneration (1 P 1.22-23; cf. 1.2-3). Especially in St. Paul, the origin of brotherly love is connected with the supernatural experience of dying with Christ, in which the sinful love of self is destroyed, and love for God, Christ, and the brethren produced in its place (Ro 6.10ff, 7.4, 2 Co 5.14-16, Gal 2.19-20). Accordingly, love for the brethren appears among other virtues and graces as a fruit of the Spirit, a charisma (Ro 15.30, 1 Co 13, Gal 5.22, 6.8-10).

John Murray once wrote, "Dr. Vos is, in my judgment, the most penetrating exegete it has been my privilege to know, and I believe, the most incisive exegete that has appeared in the English-speaking world in this century." Take time to review Vos’ remarks on the fruits of the Spirit as found here.

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J.W. Alexander on Thankful Review following the Lord's Supper

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Q. 175. What is the duty of Christians, after they have received the sacrament of the Lord’s supper?

A. The duty of Christians, after they have received the sacrament of the Lord’s supper, is seriously to consider how they have behaved themselves therein, and with what success; if they find quickening and comfort, to bless God for it, beg the continuance of it, watch against relapses, fulfill their vows, and encourage themselves to a frequent attendance on that ordinance: but if they find no present benefit, more exactly to review their preparation to, and carriage at, the sacrament; in both which, if they can approve themselves to God and their own consciences, they are to wait for the fruit of it in due time: but, if they see they have failed in either, they are to be humbled, and to attend upon it afterwards with more care and diligence. — Westminster Larger Catechism

A wonderful little handbook or manual for those seeking to rightly observe the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper is Plain Words to a Young Communicant (1854) by James W. Alexander (republished in 2000 by Banner Truth under the title Remember Him).

In the space of 85 brief chapters (80 in the Banner of Truth edition), Alexander addresses preparation for the Table, whether doubters can approach the table, self-examination, retrospect following communion, and many various aspects of the Christian Walk, including meditation, prayer, Sabbath-keeping, church attendance, and other means of grace and sanctification. Under the heading “Questions Before the Communion,” he has borrowed from a work by Ashbel Green titled Questions and Counsel for Young Converts (1831) [attributed erroneously by Banner of Truth to William Henry Green]. These questions are helpful to young believers (and old) in ascertaining the state of the soul before God.

There is one chapter especially worth highlighting for those who have just recently partaken of the sacrament: Thankful Review.

Through the tender mercies of our God, the cases are numerous, in which the young communicant retires from the Table of the Lord, strengthened and encouraged. The cardinal truth of Christianity has been set before his thoughts and become incorporated with his faith. He has seen Jesus [John 12:21]. His views of the infinite freedom of salvation have been made more clear. The evidences of his acceptance with God have become brighter. He is more disposed than ever before, to yield himself as a sacrifice, soul, body, and spirit, which is his reasonable service [Rom. 12:1]. Where any part of this is true, you have new cause for gratitude. It is “the Lord thy God which teacheth thee to profit” (Isa. 48:17). Now is the time, to bless him for this grace, and to beg the continuance of it. Now is the time to set a watch against relapses, and to carry into effect the vows which you have made at the Lord’s Table. Henceforth, you will look for the recurrence of this sacrament with a lively expectation, founded on experience.

If you are preparing to partake of the Lord’s Supper or have just partaken, this devotional manual is a good aid to right observance. Read J.W. Alexander’s handbook for communicants in full here.

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Gilbert Tennent on the Chief End of Man

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In answer to perhaps the most profound question that can be asked, "What is the chief end of man?" the Westminster Assembly in its Shorter Catechism affirms that "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever." This simple summation of the purpose of life consists of two clauses, and the relationship between the two, as stated by Westminster, has been the subject of some interest and study, particularly in light of John Piper's "Christian Hedonism" philosophy.

At the beginning of a series of sermons based on the Westminster Shorter Catechism preached by Gilbert Tennent in 1743, published a year later, Tennent addresses the distinction between aiming at God’s glory and aiming at our enjoyment of Him.

4th. Propos’d, which was to shew, why should we aim at the Glory of God as our chief Mark in all our Actions?

It is true eternal Salvation, or our enjoying God (which supposes our Propriety in, or rightful claim to God as ours; and implies our Communion with him here imperfectly, and in the Life to come perfectly) is a great Motive of religious Obedience, the Expectation thereof should doubtless influence and excite us in the Service of God.

And most certainly there is a Connection between glorifying and enjoying God, so that he who rightly performs the former, is not like to miss the latter. Psa. 50.23. Whoso offereth Praise glorifieth me. And to him that ordereth his Conversation aright, will I shew the Salvation of God.

That enjoying of God may be likewise call’d an End, and that properly, (but a Subordinate one) which we may and ought to aim at in our religious Obedience. And it is doubtless and End, the Highest in its Kind, and next, in Order, Dignity, and Importance, to that of the Glory of God. On this account the venerable Assembly at Westminster in their larger catechism, call it the highest End of Man; it is certainly that, which intelligent Beings should seek after, next to the divine Glory. The Assembly did not design to put the aforesaid Ends upon a Par or equal Balance, by their Answer to the first Question in their Catechisms, in which they are both mention’d together; No, by no means, they intend only to represent the Connection subsisting between them, as well as their infinite Moment and Importance, and the Order in which we should seek after them; which is evident from their different Manner of wording them, the Order in which they place them, and the Scriptures they bring for the Confirmation of what they offer upon this Head. In the Larger Catechism the Question is worded thus, What is the chief and highest End of Man. God’s Glory, they signify by their answer, is the chief End of Man; and enjoying God fully, the highest End, i.e. (as has been before observ’d) of its kind, next to the other: Their giving the Glory of God the first Place in their Answer, shews that they prefer it in point of Dignity to the other, altho’ those Ends are inseperably connected together, (in the Manner before mention’d) yet they are really distinguished: It is one Thing to aim at God’s Honour, and another to aim at our own Comfort, and have no true regard to God’s Glory at all, therefore they cannot be both Supreme; but one must be Chief and the other Subordinate or refer’d to it.

There is a reason for the order of words in the answer to the question, and there is an intimate connection between the two aims of life. Thus, in the view of Gilbert Tennent (and others), God’s glory must precede our enjoyment of Him in the aims of life, and only in this order do the two goals rightly make up our chief end. Read more of what Tennent has to say on this point and others from the catechism here.

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Sprague on Keeping the Heart

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William B. Sprague, in his introductory essay on devotion to D.A. Harsha’s The Christian’s Present For All Seasons: Containing the Devotional Thoughts of Eminent Divines, From Joseph Hall to William Jay (1866) speaks to the nature of true devotion, impediments to the spiritual life, and the necessity of “keeping the heart with all diligence.” He writes:

As the heart, being the fountain of all moral action, gives complexion to the life, so the devotional habits of an individual will be determined by his devotional feelings.

Speaking generally, he adds:

The spirit of devotion may be regarded as an epitome of the Christian graces — these graces are combined in the exercises of this spirit; and more than that, they react with a quickening power upon the spirit itself. The truly devout Christian bows with reverence before the Divine perfections; takes counsel of the word and providence of God for intimations of the Divine will; laments the prevalence of indwelling sin; relies on the merits of Christ and the power and grace of the Holy Spirit; and prays for an increasing conformity to the precepts of the Gospel, and for the universal prevalence of truth and righteousness. And with these exercises are identified humility, trust, submission, charity, zeal in doing good, — every thing that elevates human character, and constitutes the appropriate preparation for Heaven.

But that indwelling sin, and the unhealthy influences of worldliness around us, all make it incumbent upon believers, says Sprague, to watch against that which wars against our souls, and to “avail ourselves of helps within our reach” for the preservation of holiness, which is the life of the soul.

One of these is to be found in the careful keeping of the heart. He who keeps his heart with all diligence will not only be secure against the inroads of temptation, but will be sure also to keep a conscience in a good degree void of offence; and this will render an approach to the throne of grace easy and pleasant to him. So too there will be associated with this a deep sense of dependence; for it is impossible that one should explore diligently and habitually his own heart, without realizing that the sanctifying work that is to be carried forward there, can never proceed independently of an influence from on high, — an influence not to be hoped for except in answer to fervent prayer. Indeed, the very exercise of keeping the heart not only serves to keep alive a devotional spirit, by direct ministration, but that spirit may be regarded as its primary element — the two essentially coexist, and inhere in each other.

For a good Sabbath read, the rest of Sprague’s excellent essay on devotion, which precedes a most fascinating and edifying collection of Puritan-minded spiritual nuggets wisely extracted, may be found here. How important it is indeed to “Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life” (Prov. 4:23).

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The Almond Tree in Blossom: A Tribute to the Godly Father of T. De Witt Talmage

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Thomas De Witt Talmage — “the American Spurgeon,” one of the most famous preachers in American history — was the youngest son of David T. and Catherine “Catey” Van Nest Talmage. Born in New Jersey, where his father would serve in the state legislature, the son was raised in the Reformed Church (David served as a deacon in the First Church of Raritan), and that is where Thomas began his ministry before being called to serve in the Presbyterian Church.

Engraving of the 1833 Leonid Meteor Shower by Adolf Vollmy (1889), based on the painting by Karl Jauslin.

Thomas once gave an account of his father’s experience traveling between work and home of an event that astronomers still talk about today. The horse that David Talmage was riding was named “Star.”

My father was on the turnpike road between Trenton and Bound Brook, coming through the night from Trenton, where he was serving the State, to his home, where there was sickness. I have often heard him tell about it. It was the night of the 12th and the morning of the 13th of November, 1833. The sky was cloudless and the air clear. Suddenly the heavens became a scene never to be forgotten. From the constellation Leo meteors began to shoot out in all directions. For the two hours between four and six in the morning it was estimated that a thousand meteors a minute flashed and expired. It grew lighter than noon-day. Through the upper air shot arrows of fire! Balls of fire! Trails of fire! Showers of fire! Some the appearances were larger than the full moon. All around the heavens explosion followed explosion. Sounds as well as sights! The air filled with an uproar. All the luminaries of the sky seemed to have received marching orders. The ether was ribbed and interlaced and garlanded with meteoric display. From horizon to horizon everything was in combustion and conflagration. The spectacle ceased not until the rising sun of the November morning eclipsed it, and the whole American nation sat down exhausted with the agitations of a night to be memorable until the earth itself shall become a falling star. The Bible closes with such a scene of falling lights — not only fidgety meteors, but grave old stars. St. John saw it in prospect and wrote: ‘The stars of heaven fell unto the earth even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs when she is shaken of a mighty wind.’ What a time there will be when worlds drop! Rain of planets! Gravitation letting loose her grip on worlds! Constellations falling apart and galaxies dissolved!

David Talmage also served as sheriff, and worked to promote education in New Jersey. He lived a long and fruitful life (1783-1865). When he died, Thomas delivered a commemorative sermon titled “The Beauty of Old Age,” based on Ecclesiastes 12:5: “The almond tree shall flourish.”

An almond tree in blossom.

Thomas spoke of how his father shined so brightly even in old age. Even as the almond tree blossoming is a picture of the same.

Finally, I notice that in my father’s old age was to be seen the beauty of Christian activity.

He had not retired from the field. He had been busy so long, you could not expect him idle now. The faith I have described was not an idle expectation that sits with its hands in its pocket idly waiting, but a feeling which gather up all the resources of the soul, and hurls them upon one grand design. He was among the first who toiled in Sabbath-schools and never failed to speak praise of these institutions. No storm or darkness ever kept him away from prayer-meeting. In the neighbourhood where he lived, for years he held a devotional meeting. Oftentimes the only praying-man present before a handful of attendants, he would give out the hymn, read the lines, conduct the music, and pray. Then read the Scriptures and pray again. Then lead forth in the Doxology with an enthusiasm as if there were a thousand people present, and all the Church members had been doing their duty. He went forth visiting the sick, burying the dead, collecting alms for the poor, inviting the ministers of religion to his household, in which there was, as in the house of Shunem, a little room over the wall, with bed and candlestick for any passing Elisha. He never shuddered at the sight of a subscription-paper, and not a single great cause of benevolence has arisen within the last half-century which he did not bless with his beneficence. Oh! this was not a barren almond-tree that blossomed. His charity was not like the bursting of the bud of a famous tree in the South, that fills the whole forest with its racket, nor was it a clumsy thing, like the fruit in some tropical clime, that crashes down, almost knocking the life out of those who gather it, for in his case the right hand knew not what the left hand did. The churches of God, in whose service he toiled, have arisen as one man to declare his faithfulness and to mourn their loss. He stood in the front of the holy war, and the courage which never trembled or winced in the presence of temporal danger induced him to dare all things for God. In church matters he was not afraid to be shot at. Ordained, not by the laying on of human hands, but by the imposition of a Saviour’s love, he preached by his life, in official position, and legislative hall, and commercial circles, a practical Christianity. He showed that there was a such a thing as honesty in politics. He slandered no party, stuffed no ballot-box, forged no naturalization papers, intoxicated no voters, told no lies, surrendered no principle, countenanced no demagogueism. He called things by their rightful names; and what others styled prevarication, exaggeration, misstatement, or hyperbole, he called a lie. Though he was far from being undecided in his views, and never professed neutrality, or had any consort with those miserable men who boast how well they can walk on both sides of a dividing-line and be on neither, yet even in the excitements of election canvass, when his name was hotly discussed in public journals, I do not think his integrity was ever assaulted. Started every morning with a chapter of the Bible, and his whole family around him on their knees, he forgot not, in the excitement of the world, that he had a God to serve and a heaven to win. The morning prayer came up on one side of the day, and the evening prayer on the other side, and joined each other in an arch above his head, under the shadow of which he walked all the day. The Sabbath worship extended into Monday’s conversation, and Tuesday’s bargain, and Wednesday’s mirthfulness, and Thursday’s controversy, and Friday’s sociality, and Saturday’s calculation.

Through how many thrilling scenes he had passed! He stood, at Morristown, in the choir that chanted when George Washington was buried; talked with young men whose grandfathers he had held on his knee; watched the progress of John Adam’s administration; denounced, at the time, Aaron Burr’s infamy; heard the guns that celebrated the New Orlean’s victory; voted against Jackson, but lived long enough to wish we had one just like him; remembered when the first steamer struck the North River with its wheel buckets; flushed with excitement in the time of National Banks and Sub-Treasury; was startled at the birth of telegraphy; saw the United States grow from a speck on the world’s map, till all nations dip their flag at our passing merchantmen, and our “national airs” have been heard on the steeps of the Himalayas; was born while the revolutionary cannon were coming home from Yorktown, and lived to hear the tramp of troops returning from the war of the great Rebellion; lived to speak the names of eighty children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Nearly all his contemporaries gone! Aged Wilberforce said that sailors drink to “friends astern” until half way over sea, and then drink to “friends ahead.” With him it had for a long time been “friends ahead.” So also with my father. Long and varied pilgrimage! Nothing but sovereign grace could have kept him true, earnest, useful and Christian through so many exciting scenes.

He worked unweariedly from the sunrise of youth to the sunset of old age, and then in the sweet nightfall of death, lighted by the starry promises, went home, taking his sheaves with him. Mounting from earthly to heavenly service, I doubt not there were a great multitude that thronged heaven’s gate to hail him into the skies — those whose sorrows he has appeased, whose burdens he had lifted, whose guilty souls he had pointed to a pardoning God, whose dying moments he had cheered, whose ascending spirits he had helped up on the wings of sacred music. I should like to have heard that long, loud, triumphant shout, of heaven’s welcome. I think that the harps throbbed with another thrill, and the hills quaked with a mightier hallelujah. Hall, ransomed soul! thy race run — thy toil ended. Hail to the coronation!

Like an almond tree in blossom — which does so in winter, as Thomas notes (see “The Almond-Tree in Blossom” in his 1872 Sermons) — David Talmage served God well in old age, and the tribute that his son left for him is an encouragement to others, young and old, that one can hold on the starry promises, and shine all the brighter, not only in the noon-day of life, but also towards the end our days, even in the darkest of nights.

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Occupy Till He Comes: Warfield on doing all to the glory of God

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And he called his ten servants, and delivered them ten pounds, and said unto them, Occupy till I come (Luke 19:13).

An important theme in the life and teaching of B.B. Warfield is that we ought to do all to the glory of God. Not only in the seminary classroom, but in every work to which we put our hands, we ought to aim at the glory of God (1 Cor. 10:31). In an October 1911 address to the seminary students at Princeton, published later under the title The Religious Life of Theological Students, Warfield not only spoke against falsely dichotomizing theological study and religious devotion, but also affirmed that in whatever we do in life, in our studies and beyond them, we should be aiming to glorify our God.

Certainly, every man who aspires to a religious man must begin by doing his duty, his obvious duty, his daily task, the particular work which lies before him to do at this particular time and place. If this work happens to be studying, then his religious life de pends on nothing more fundamentally than on just studying. You might as well talk of a father who neglects his parental duties, of a son who fails in all the obligations of filial piety, of an artisan who systematically skimps his work and turns in a bad job, of a workman who is nothing better than an eye-servant, being religious men as of a student who does not study being a religious man. It cannot be: you cannot build up a religious life except you begin by performing faithfully your simple, daily duties. It is not the question whether you like these duties. You may think of your studies what you please . You may consider that you are singing precisely of them when you sing of "e'en servile labors,” and of “the meanest work.” But you must faithfully give yourselves to your studies, if you wish to be religious men. No religious character can be built up on the foundation of neglected duty…

A truly religious man will study anything which it becomes his duty with “devotion” in both of these senses. That is what his religion does for him: it makes him do his duty, do it thoroughly, do it “in the Lord.”

Thomas Hugh Spence, Jr. wrote about the effect of this sort of teaching on one particular student of Warfield’s in the 1890s in The Historical Foundation and Its Treasures (1956, 1960), p. 3:

While a student at Princeton, Mr. [Samuel Mills] Tenney had been impressed with the insistence of Professor Benjamin B. Warfield upon the importance of making the most of time. He once described to the writer how he repeatedly stood for hours by night in the rocking railway coaches of that pre-streamliner era in order to devote those periods of travel to reading by the ineffectual oil lamps then provided byway of token illumination in such cars.

An older writer's famous maxim says much the same thing:

Be thou never without something to do; be reading, or writing, or praying, or meditating, or doing something that is useful to the community. -- Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ (1.19)

Warfield certainly practiced what he preached: always writing, always teaching, always lovingly caring for his wife at home - he exemplified the ethic called for in the Scriptures to do all to the glory of God whether the task was menial or seemed to be of the greatest import for advancing the kingdom of God. Kingdom work is truly made up of the small as well as the great. We have business to accomplish in this life for our King and Master, who both give talents and gifts, and enables us to turn every occasion of using them as a means to glorify Himself and do others and ourselves much good. How we may then joyfully anticipate hearing those precious words: “Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord” (Matt. 25:23).

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Archibald Alexander: Use means, don't trust in them

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Today’s post comes from the spiritual classic by Archibald Alexander, Thoughts on Religious Experience. In his list of “practical directions how to grow in grace or make progress in piety” — a list of steps which the faithful Christian would do well to apply in life — Alexander makes a point especially worth pondering.

While you determine to be assiduous in the use of the appointed means of sanctification, you must have it deeply fixed in your mind, that nothing can be effected in this work without the aid of the Divine Spirit. “Paul may plant and Apollos water, but it is God that giveth the increase.” The direction of the old divines is good: “Use the means as vigorously as if you were to be saved by your own efforts, and yet trust as entirely to the grace of God, as if you made use of no means whatever.”

It may be inquired, Who were some of those old divines? These are possibly some examples which Alexander had in mind:

• Thomas Shepard, The Sincere Convert (1641): “Use thy duties as Noah's dove did her wings, to carry thee to the ark of the Lord Jesus Christ, where only there is rest. If she had never used her wings, she had fallen into the waters; so, if thou shalt use no duties, but cast them off, thou art sure to perish.”

• Isaac Ambrose, The Practice of Sanctification (1650) in Prima, Media, & Ultima: the First, Middle, and Last Things, in Three Treatises: “Use thy duties as Noah's dove did her wings, carry thee to the ark of the Lord Jesus Christ where only there is rest: if she had never used her wings, she had fallen into the waters; and if she had not returned to the ark, she had found no rest.”

• Thomas Brooks, The Privy Key of Heaven (1665): “My fourth advice and counsel is, Take heed of resting upon closet duties, take heed of trusting in closet-duties. Noah's dove made use of her wings, but she did not trust in her wings, but in the ark; so you must make use of closet-duties, but you must not trust in your closet-duties, but in Jesus, of whom the ark was but a type.”

These directions remain profitable for Christians today. We are tempted to work hard at the Christian life and give ourselves the credit, but it is by grace alone that we can do the least good thing, and we must always remind ourselves of that. The old divines spoke wisely, as Alexander says.

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William Traill's Advice

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When Col. William Stevens wrote to the Presbytery of Laggan in Scotland in 1680 requesting that a godly pastor be sent to minister to the faithful on the Eastern Shore, that call was answered first by William Traill (1640-1714), and soon after, by Francis Makemie. While Makemie is known to history as the “Father of American Presbyterianism” for his pioneer ministry and labors to establish the first Presbytery in America, William Traill is far less known than he should be today. He was the brother of Robert Traill, the famous Scottish Covenanter, and served as clerk and as a Moderator of the Laggan Presbytery. Robert addressed his noted letter on Justification to his older brother, William. Both Robert and William, as well as their father, suffered persecution; William, having been imprisoned for preaching in Ireland, came to America after his release from prison in 1682, where he ministered to the people of Rehoboth, Maryland, possibly serving as their first pastor, until his return to Scotland in 1690.

Today we consider an extract from some spiritual counsel written by William Traill for a private lady in 1708, which was abridged and republished in 1841 under the title “Necessary and Excellent Advice About Some Duties.”

Follow Christ, by taking up the cross that he has appointed for you , and by faith lean upon him for strength and succour, to bear you up under its burden from day to day. Observe your daily deficiencies and short-comings, and press forward that you may know more of the spirit, life, and power of every duty. Keep constant watch against your easily-besetting sins, and take heed that, by a sudden surprisal, they do not prevail against you. Particularly inquire whether you are not tempted to unbelief, and calling in question almost every truth — whether you are not sinfully jealous of the love of God to your soul, after the multiplied evidences of his care — whether affected diffidence, impatient haste, rash and uncharitable censures of others, are not found in your heart— whether you regard the proper season for every duty, and daily labour to “redeem the time" — whether in circumstances of difficulty you ask yourself, what would my Lord and Saviour have done in this case? and do likewise whether you mind his own blessed rule, “Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you , do ye even so to them .” Learn to remember your latter end, “to die daily" — adventure upon nothing but what appears to be your duty, both lawful and seasonable, and such as you would adventure upon, if you had but a day to live.

Read the rest of his spiritual counsel here, and take note of this remarkable pioneer Presbyterian who helped pave the way for the planting of the Presbyterian Church in America. More about Traill can be found in L.P. Bowen’s The Days of Makemie (1885) and Makemie and Rehoboth (1912); J.W. McIlvain, Early Presbyterianism in Maryland (1890); C.A. Briggs, American Presbyterianism (1885); Alfred Nevin, History of the Presbytery of Philadelphia (1888); among other records of pioneer Presbyterianism in America.

HT: Matthew Vogan

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Andrew W. Blackwood: How Christ Enables Me to Solve My Problems

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The noted Presbyterian preacher and homiletics professor Andrew Watterson Blackwood (1882-1966) was a tireless worker for Christ. But twice in his life he was sidelined by “nervous breakdowns,” the first of which occurred while he was studying at Princeton. Later in life, he wrote an account of the lessons learned from those experiences. It appears in Jay E. Adams, The Homiletical Innovations of Andrew W. Blackwood, pp. 42-43.

HOW CHRIST ENABLES ME TO SOLVE MY PROBLEMS

In 1905 I suffered a nervous and physical breakdown, which lasted almost a year. In 1936 I had another breakdown, much worse, which kept me from teaching and preaching for a year and a half. Partly through a kind physician who loved the Lord, I regained health and strength of body and mind. During the past 18 years the Lord has enabled me to carry a full-time load as a professor, to conduct divine services almost every Lord’s Day in the past few years, and to write 18 books, 15 of them for ministers, and all 15 still on the active list. Now I am four years beyond the seminary’s age of retirement, and still He gives me work to do, with strength to do it, day by day, and peace of heart.

So I gladly accept an invitation to testify, not in a spirit of boastfulness, but of gratitude. As our late friend and neighbor Albert Einstein once told Mrs. Blackwood, with reference to his work in science, “I have nothing but what I have received.” He was thinking about greatness in the eyes of men; I am giving thanks for goodness from the hand of God….

…Gradually the Lord has taught me how to live from day to day, as ever in His sight. He has been teaching me what I should have learned as a young minister. Once I asked an older man, active and honored in state and church, “How is it that in a day, a year, or a lifetime you can do more work and better work than any person I have ever known?” He smiled as he told me, “My Lord taught me a long while ago to live without worry, work without hurry, and look forward without fear.” That sounds like Philippians 4:6, 7.

Looking back, I can see that apart from physical causes my breakdowns came from my shortcomings and failures, due no doubt to ambition. I had not learned to live and work and hope in the spirit of my older friend. Neither had I gained mastery over despondency, insomnia, and related disorders, which ought to have no place in a life where the Spirit dwells. I had not even learned how to deal with my body as my father, a horse-and-buggy doctor, took care of his team, and as I, a typical Scotsman, try to take care of my automobile. I do not mean that I ever drank, or abused my body in various other ways, but that I suffered from stress and strain, self-imposed, with resulting worry and waste. Friction in my soul!

Now as I look forward the sunset years I trust that I shall keep on learning how to live day by day, as ever in His sight. With Paul I hope that I shall always feel able to say, “for me to live is Christ”; and with Browning, “The best part is yet to be.” “My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood .and righteousness.” Hence I look forward to the unseen world with peace, with hope, and with more than a few foretastes of heaven’s joy. I hope, too, that I shall not meet my Lord with empty hands and a broken heart.

Andrew W. Blackwood

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"To learn something from everybody I speak to" - Rules of conduct by Ashbel Green

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In 1791, Ashbel Green went on a journey from Philadelphia to New England. The theological climate of New England at that time was such that he would be challenged by interactions from very different viewpoints than his own. His diary records that before embarking on this trip, he made a concerted effort to regulate his conduct to the glory of God.

“June 6, 1791. — To-morrow, God willing, I expect to set out on a journey into New England. I think it will be useful for me to lay down some rules for the government of my own conduct, and to read them over every morning and evening.

Rule 1. To endeavour to promote, by every means in my power, the glory of God. Hence I must preach as much and as often as I can; and endeavour to recommend religion to all whom I may have intercourse with, by my whole conversation and deportment, and I must endeavour constantly to have this rule in my memory and recollection.

2. Let me avoid talkativeness; and be as modest and unassuming as possible. Let no controversy on religious subjects make me lose my temper, or say any thing hastily, harshly, or severely.

3. Let me not deny any sentiments that I really hold, be the consequences what they may.

4. Let me, in answering questions or in giving relations, and in every thing else, keep vigorously and entirely to the simple truth; neither adding nor admitting any circumstance, so as to convey an idea of things in any degree different from what they really are.

5. Let me endeavour to suppress pride and vanity; and not endeavour to shine by an affectation of knowledge, or qualities which I do not possess. It is dangerous; it may bring me into absolute disgrace; it is very wicked.

6. Let me observe characters with all attention. This is a principal object of my journey. Let me try to learn something from every body I speak to.

7. Especially let me observe the state of society, and the peculiarities of manners in the places where I go.

8. Let me recollect in remarkable places the distinguished events that have taken place in them, and see all the vestiges and remains of them. Let me inquire the state and history of colleges; and endeavour to see their professors, masters, libraries and philosophical apparatus. Let me, where I can, ask who are the leading men and principal characters in any town. Let me observe the general face of the country — its soil, productions, &c., &c.

9. Let me pay a particular attention to the state of religious opinions, and see if I can trace the cause of them.

10. Let me not be disconcerted with difficulties in my journey. Let me endeavour to keep up my spirits, and resolutely set about my business, in each particular place.

11. Let me not suffer the importunities of friends, or others, to break in on my own plans of travelling; but vigorously and constantly pursue them; denying with modesty, but at the same time with firmness.

12. Let me pay a personal and particular attention to my horse. It seems proper that I should mention that I travelled in a sulkey, without a servant or a companion.

13. Let me endeavour to travel in the morning, and lie by in the heat of the day.

14. I am at a loss, whether to rebuke profaneness in watermen, servants, &c.; in general it is, I believe, best to give them some check.

15. Let me not neglect secret prayer; and always remember my family and congregation in it.

16. Let me try in every way to get improvement; by getting men to talk on their favourite topics; by making deductions from their opinions; by comparing them together; by pursuing hints which I may take from what they say; by retaining and remembering all the information they convey.

17. Let me not neglect to write to my wife as often as possible.

18. Let me not find fault with the peculiarities of places to their inhabitants. Let me not make comparisons to their disadvantage, and tell them things are much better in the place I came from. People will not bear this.

A number of these rules contain things which I ought to be incapable of forgetting or neglecting; but I know for myself that the most obvious duties sometimes escape my attention. By examining myself on these rules, I shall be likely to remember, discover, correct, and avoid any errors and omissions; and I shall have my memory refreshed with a view of my business and duty."

The above rules, and the remark with which they are concluded, appear to have been very hastily written; and some of them are very incorrect in expression; but the intention of each of them is, I think, palpable; and I thought it would be best to give them verbatim as they were originally penned.

Allan Stanton wrote this brief summary of that trip:

During his journey, Green kept a brief journal with reflection upon every person that he met with especial consideration upon the piety and theological persuasions of pastors. The two most common observations of his journal are in reference to Anti-Trinitarian and Hopkinsian persuasions of these pastors. Green consistently concluded that the men he met were pious and that he avoided controversy with them while gaining invaluable insight into the ecclesiastical circumstances in which he found himself.

Stanton goes on to say that the religious pluralism which Green encountered in New England was a factor in his later push to establish what became Princeton Theological Seminary in New Jersey (Allan Stanton, “The Theological Climate of the Early Nineteenth Century and the Founding of a Polemical Seminary at Princeton,” in The Confessional Presbyterian (2010) 6:24).

Times have changed in some respects, but in other respects we can learn from Green’s rules of conduct and make useful application in the even more religiously pluralistic 21st century. There is great value in healthy and wholesome conversation, in striving to listen and learn from those with whom we engage, and doing what we can to avoid unnecessary controversy and rather build bridges that can be employed for the glory of God. Do you aim to learn something from everyone that you speak to? Green found this to be good advice to himself, and there is much to commend this advice in our present-day interactions, whether they be in our neighborhood, on public transit or online. Green’s rules (which can be read in The Life of Ashbel Green, pp. 204-207) helped him to redeem the time and to have a profitable trip, and there is profit in these rules for us today.

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What does God ask of us? Daniel Dana answers

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From Prov. 23:26, Daniel Dana has given us an important lesson about what God asks of his children. “Give Me Thy Heart” is a tract which has great value today. As Christians, we are not called to half-hearted obedience but rather to “love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might” (Deut. 6:5).

Hear what Dana says because his message is timeless one:

Solomon speaks, not so much in his own name, as in the name of the King of kings — the glorious JEHOVAH. It is He, the king and venerable Father of the great family of man, who here addresses every individual of his rational human offspring, in language such as this: "Ye creatures of my power; ye children of my family; objects of my constant care and compassion; remember your Creator, your Father, and your God. Expand your souls to the Supreme Good. Let your best and purest affections be mine. Choose me as your portion. Love me as your Friend. Delight in me as your happiness. Reverence my authority; adore my wisdom; trust my grace; lean upon my arm; resign yourselves, your all, to my service and disposal. And you especially, the younger members of my family, just rising into existence, give me your hearts. To your kind Parent, and your guardian God, devote the flower and prime of your affections, and your earliest obedience. In the fair morning of life choose my service as your business, and the enjoyment of me as your bliss." Such is the tender and gracious exhortation of the blessed God: an exhortation which most powerfully addresses the reason, the conscience, and the sensibilities of every human being.

This is an exhortation from a 19th century minister that speaks to what God asks of all believers in all times. Click here to read the full tract by Dana.

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