Fourth of July Celebration at Log College Press

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If your cause is just — you may look with confidence to the Lord and intreat him to plead it as his own. You are all my witnesses, that this is the first time of my introducing any political subject into the pulpit. At this season however, it is not only lawful but necessary, and I willingly embrace the opportunity of declaring my opinion without any hesitation, that the cause in which America is now in arms, is the cause of justice, of liberty, and of human nature. — John Witherspoon, The Dominion of Providence Over the Passions of Men: A Sermon, Preached at Princeton, on the 17th of May, 1776. Being the General Fast Appointed by the Congress Through the United Colonies (1777)

It was five years ago today that Log College Press was founded on July 4, 2017. (See what this site looked like early on [as of January 19, 2018] via the Wayback Machine here.) Thanks to the support and encouragement of our dear readers, we have come a long way since then.

We have now published 7 books, and 10 booklets. Log College Press now has over 15,000 works by over 1,900 authors available to read on the site.

On this date in past years we have highlighted men who served the cause of civil and religious liberty, as well as books by our authors which celebrate the cause.

This year we take note of our authors which share a birthday with Log College Press and the United States of America:

At Log College Press we have much cause to celebrate, and we give thanks to God for the labors of godly men and women who have gone before in service to the cause of Christ and freedom. We also recognize how far this country has fallen from its ideal as epitomized in John Winthrop’s “City on a Hill” (1630).

Our national sins are great. It was in 1778 that Jacob Green famously said: “Can it be believed that a people contending for liberty should, at the same time, be promoting and supporting slavery?” And it was in 1832 that James R. Willson pointed out our great need as a nation to acknowledge our dependence upon and submission to God, and to kiss Son specifically, alluding to Ps. 2:12 and quoting Ps. 9:17, when took note of the great omission by our Constitutional Founding Fathers who chose not to honor God in our national charter: “Was it a mere omission? Did the convention that framed the constitution forget to name the living God? Was this an omission in some moment of national phrenzy, when the nation forgot God? That, indeed, were a great sin. God says, ‘the nations that forget God, shall be turned into hell’” (Prince Messiah).

Though far from where we as a nation ought to be, yet there is cause for remembrance of and thanksgiving for the blessings of the past as well as the mercies of today. As William B. Sprague once said, “LET THE DAY BE OBSERVED, BUT LET IT BE OBSERVED RELIGIOUSLY” (Religious Celebration of Independence: A Discourse Delivered at Northampton, on the Fourth of July, 1827 (1827)). That is to say, with respect to this civil holiday (as distinct from a religious holy day), we ought to celebrate its noblest ideals, exemplified in America’s fight for freedom and independence, with proper solemnities, in an appropriate Christian manner, but in humble acknowledgment of how far we as a people have still to go, by the grace of God, to arrive at those ideals.

To understand civil and religious freedom aright, we believe it is important to study God’s Word first, but not to neglect the study of history as well. Primary sources from the past are a valuable tool in promoting reformation and revival in the present. Our topical page on Church and State is one particular relevant resource. We thank our readers for their interest in and support of this project by Log College Press to make accessible what Presbyterians who have gone before had to say on this and other important matters. To God be the glory, as we we celebrate another Independence Day, and a birthday besides.

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.

W.H. Fentress: No Sea in Heaven

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Read the scripture, not only as an history, but as a love-letter sent to you from God which may affect your hearts. -- Thomas Watson, A Body of Practical Divinity, p. 27

Considering he was blind, the word-pictures painted by William Henry Fentress (1851-1880) are all the more remarkable. In one sermon from his volume Love Truths From the Bible (1879), he speaks of the ocean with tremendous insight into matters temporal and spiritual. The sermon is “No Sea in Heaven” (based on Rev. 21:1: “and there was no more sea”) and the extracts which follow are intended to whet the appetite for all of his sermons.

Have you ever stood by the sea? have you ever had the sense of being lost in the contemplation of its wonders? have you ever seen, and heard, and realized what it has to reveal? if so, you have been admitted to one of the grandest privileges known to the lovers of nature. It seems impossible that even the careless should pass by the sea uninfluenced: there is so much to engage the attention; so much to compel interest; a very spell, a fascination in its presence. To the thoughtful it is most impressive; unfolding to consciousness mysteries of thought and sentiment that banish the common things of life; that produce an experience beyond language to define; that give, as it were, a new being, with other motives, other powers, other ambitions. These impressions come again when the sea is far away, as we fancy that the night heavens of the Orient recur to the traveller, who has once enjoyed their sublime magnificence; as the splendors of royalty haunt the mind of an exiled Napoleon; as the awful meeting of contending armies is recalled by the old veteran, when the war has long been over, and lie is resting with his little ones about him in his peaceful home.

The sky, the forests, the mountains, all have attractions peculiar to themselves; and so has the sea. Behold the giant waves, crimsoned with sunbeams! or silvered by the light of the moon! how majestically they rise and fall ! Now raging under the lash of the storm demon, now moving in calm with long measured roll, they seem impatient of restraint, as if possessed by a spirit of life; as if some mighty force were rocking the cradle of the deep. Hear the rush of waters, the waves struggling and dying on the sands, the deep thunder of the breakers on the shore! and strangely with the deafening tumult mingle the wild shriek of the seagull and the soft note of the curlew. For miles inland upon the hush of night comes the monotone of the ocean. It is as the sound of a distant, heavy-rolling train. It is an unbroken anthem of praise to the great Creator. The beach is strewn with shells of every size, and shape, and color. Have you never kneeled upon the hard, white sand to gather these bright offerings washed up by the surf? and when a larger one was found, have listened with a child's delight to the whisper of some far off sea, laving the shores of some distant isle, or continent? These shells are nature's beautiful playthings, adorning the frame-work, in which she has placed the master-piece of her art. What a setting! what a picture! commanding the admiration not only of earth, for the hosts of heaven delight to mirror themselves in the boundless, blue expanse.

Fentress continues to expound upon the vast expanse of the ocean and its deepest depths which harbor shipwrecks, treasures, animals, caves and more, culminating in this cry: “O sea! Not only man, but thou also art wonderfully and fearfully made.”

It is thus evident, that the sea is not the source of a perfect joy. Far from it! It has features, occasions and associations which are productive of sadness and suffering. Has it beautiful shells and pearls? It has also loathesome weeds and reptiles. Has it fairy isles and safe harbors? It has also dangerous Scylla and Charybdis. Has it warm streams, that moderate climate and contribute to human comfort? It has also floating fields and mountains of ice, which are a terror to man. Do its waves appear fair and bright in the sunshine? When clouds gather and the wind spirit goes abroad, they are terrible to look upon. Is there majestic music in the roar of the surf? to the mariner whose vessel driven from its course, is hurrying toward the breakers, it is a knell of death. Does it bring to ns the treasures of India and other lands? alas! it sometimes bears away dear treasures of our hearts, and returns them no more. Hence, as we learn from our text, there will be no sea in heaven: for "God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away."

As beautiful as the sea is to behold, Fentress reminds us that its wide expanse separates divides continents and separates mariners from their loved ones; while in heaven, there is no separation between spirits, no division between members of Christ’s body. Though at times it may seem placidly calm, the sea is a place of change with its tides which ebb and flow, and its tempests which bring such violence and danger; whereas, in heaven, there is eternal rest from this life’s storms, and peace from the contrary gales which we all experience.

O mariners on the sea of life, seeking rest but finding none; make your reckoning with a view to eternity; take the Bible as your chart; hold your course straight for the Star of Bethlehem; and in the fiercest storm, through the darkest night keep a brave heart, relying upon God: and though the voyage be long, and wearying, and beset with difficulties and trials, peace will be reached at last.
…
There will be noble strivings in heaven. The spirits of just men made perfect, will vie with each other in obedience, love and consecration to Him who loved them; who washed them from their sins in His own precious blood; who made them Kings and Priests unto God. The law of progress will demand ambition, increase, change: ambition to be holy, as God is holy; increase in grace and knowledge of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ; and change by advancing in the divine image: but there will be no sea in heaven; that is, no restlessness, no discontent with what you are, and have. For earth, with all its petty cares, its fevered dreams, its nameless longings, its unsatisfying pleasures, will have passed away; the realties of the life in God, will bring to the troubled heart profound calm; the Prince of peace will give His own peace to the weary soul, and not a wave of care will ever disturb the deep serenity of that life in the bright Forever.

Our speaker puts his finger on that which troubles the mind and heart of many believers in this life: fear. And death.

Now in human affairs the possible, more than the actual, is the cause of distress. Life's fabric takes its sombre colors, more from what may be than what is. In other words, fear is the main, disturbing element to human peace: but in heaven there will be nothing of this. There, doubt, uncertainty, danger, and threatenings of misfortune will have no place. We shall know, even as we are known; we shall love, even as we are loved: and perfect knowledge and perfect love will cast out all fear. O the trust and confidence and security that will be the heritage of God's children, when gathered home; when folded at last in the Father's embrace! No sea in heaven; that is, no fear.
…
But is it not written, that "the sea shall give up the dead that are in it, and that Death and Hell shall be cast into the lake of fire?'' In heaven therefore, the daughters of music will not be brought low: nor desire fail because man goeth to his long home: nor mourners go about the streets: nor the silver cord be loosed: nor the golden bowl be broken: nor the pitcher broken at the fountain: nor the wheel broken at the cistern. There, there will be no gathering of friends at the bed-side, to be crushed with anguish at the departure of one beloved: no struggling for breath, then a marble coldness: no damp wiped from the brow; no eyes closed by the hands of another. There will be no tolling of bells; no procession in black; no speaking of the words, "dust to dust." There will be no turning away, to leave a father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a husband, a wife, a child, or a dear friend to solitude and night; no going back to the house with the awful feeling, that we have no more a home; no strewing of flowers on fresh, green mounds. Thank God! there will be no church-yards in heaven. No sea in heaven; that is, no death.

Those who gaze out at the horizon may with difficulty at times discern where the sea ends and heaven begins. But those with spiritual sight are taught here to look up to the center of heaven where our Chief Pilot, who commands the winds and the waves, will navigate us home.

Jesus brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. He has gone to prepare a place, to make ready the many mansions, that where He is, His disciples may be also. Yes, to Jesus, and Jesus only do we owe our sweet hope of heaven. Heaven, that golden clime far beyond life's troubled ocean! Heaven, on whose blissful shores no waves ever break! Heaven, that land of love and loveliness! Heaven, that paradise home, where the pure in heart are joined forever! You and I have loved ones already there. We parted from them, as from our very life. The world has never seemed so fair and bright since they went away. Are we seeking for re-union in that better country? Let us then be sure to take the homeward way. Let us run with patience the race set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. Let us fight the good fight of faith, and sing the victor's song. Let us go forth, and accomplish the voyage, marked out for us on the sea of life: not as the disciple who began to sink because of unbelief; but with unwavering trust in God, that He will not let the waves and the billows go over us; that He will direct our course aright; that He will be our guide and refuge to the last: and be assured, He will then receive us to that haven of rest, where the sorrows of the sea are no more.

Read this and other sermons by W.H. Fentress here, and meditate on such “love truths from the Bible,” for our author would have you “look unto Jesus.”

Cleland Boyd McAfee: The Man Who Coined the TULIP Acrostic

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Although many [1] credit Loraine Boettner (1901-1990) in The Reformed Doctrine of Predestination (1932) with originating the acrostic for the Five Points of Calvinism known as TULIP [2] it is believed that the true originator was instead Cleland Boyd McAfee (1866-1944), who did so in 1905. We are thankful to Wayne Sparkman of the PCA Historical Center for highlighting this important footnote to church history in the past.

William H. Vail wrote a 1913 article in The Outlook which describes McAfee’s TULIP lecture, delivered before the Presbyterian Union of Newark, New Jersey, in the context of others who have written about the Five Points of Calvinism. Here is McAfee’s version of TULIP according to Vail:

And here is Boettner’s 1932 version for comparison:

The Five Points may be more easily remembered if they are associated with the word T-U-L-I-P; T, Total Inability; U, Unconditional Election; L, Limited Atonement; I, Irresistable (Effacious) Grace; and P, Perseverance of the Saints (source: The Reformed Doctrine of Predestination (1932), p. 60).

We can see that Boettner modified McAfee’s list slightly as to the meaning of the U in TULIP, but otherwise retained McAfee’s usage.

McAfee would go on to serve as Moderator of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of the United States of America (PCUSA) in 1929. His legacy may be studied from various perspectives — including his authorship of a famous hymn: Near to the Heart of God — but his TULIP acrostic, which rightly (see Boettner [3]) or wrongly [4} has certainly left its mark on history.

Note: This is an updated edition of a post published previously in 2018.

1. See, for example, Roger Nicole, Foreword to David N. Steele, Curtis C. Thomas & S. Lance Quinn, The Five Points of Calvinism Defined, Defended, and Documented (1963, 2004), p. xiv.
2. An allusion to the 1619 Canons of Dort, formally titled The Decision of the Synod of Dort on the Five Main Points of Doctrine in Dispute in the Netherlands.
3. Boettner employs the acrostic with great effectiveness albeit with this caution: “Let the reader, then, guard against a too close identification of the Five Points and the Calvinistic system. While these are essential elements, the system really includes much more. As stated in the Introduction, the Westminster Confession is a balanced statement of the Reformed Faith or Calvinism, and its gives due prominence to the other Christian doctrines.”
4. See, for example, Richard A. Muller’s negative assessment of the TULIP acrostic in Calvin and the Reformed Tradition: On the Work of Christ and the Order of Salvation (2012), p. 58ff.

New Resources at Log College Press - June 15, 2022

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If you are a member of the Dead Presbyterians Society at Log College Press, you may have noticed some interesting new material added to the site. If you are not yet a member, perhaps the list below will whet your appetite.

In the month of April 2022, we added 650+ new works as well as 23 new authors. In May 2022, we added 512 new works and 40 new authors. At present, on Log College Press, we have over 14,000 works by over 1,900 authors.

Often we list the most interesting material first at the Early Additions page to give our members a sneak preview. Some works there at present include:

  • Articles by John Murray on The Theology of the Westminster Standards and The Fourth Commandment According to the Westminster Standards;

  • Correspondence by Robert J. Breckinridge to President Abraham Lincoln;

  • William B. McGroarty’s 1940 study of the history of The Old Presbyterian Meeting House at Alexandria [Virginia], 1774-1874;

  • Louis Voss’ 1931 survey of Presbyterianism in New Orleans and Adjacent Points;

  • A fascinating 1860 article by William S. Plumer titled Mary Reynolds: A Case of Double Consciousness;

  • David Ramsay’s 1789 Dissertation on the Manners of Acquiring the Character and Privileges of a Citizen of the United States; and

  • In 1848, a London edition of Matthew Henry’s famous commentary of the Bible (which was completed by other hands after his death after Henry finished his comments on Romans) was published which includes notes from Charles Hodge on Romans and notes from John Forsyth on the exposition of James (written originally by Samuel Wright).

Also, of note among many titles at the Recent Additions page:

  • Charles Paschal Telesphore Chiniquy (1809-1899), Fifty Years in the Church of Rome (1886) — Chiniquy was a Canadian-born Roman Catholic priest-turned Presbyterian minister who wrote about the errors of his former ways and the dangers of Roman Catholicism;

  • Reviews by John Forsyth of various volumes of William B. Sprague’s Annals of the American Pulpit — Sprague’s Annals are widely considered to be his magnum opus and Forsyth’s reviews are a valuable introduction to this remarkable set of biographical sketches;

  • David Holmes Coyner (1807-1892), The Lost Trappers (1847, 1855) - Coyner, a Presbyterian minister, wrote this volume as a true narrative of the wanderings of trapper Ezekiel Williams, who, according to Coyner, led twenty trappers up the Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains in 1807. One year later, seventeen of the twenty had died, and the three survivors decided to separate. Two started for Santa Fe, getting lost in the Rockies until they met a Spanish caravan bound for California, while Williams journeyed home by canoe on the Arkansas and Missouri rivers, though he was taken captive for a time by Indians in Kansas. Dismissed as fiction by some, modern scholarship has confirmed the factual basis for Coyner’s account;

  • David Joshua Beale, Sr. (1835-1900), Through the Johnstown Flood (1890) - This is a remarkable account of a major 19th century natural disaster by an eyewitness who lived through it;

  • Alexander McLeod, The Constitution, Character, and Duties, of the Gospel Ministry: A Sermon Preached at the Ordination of the Rev. Gilbert McMaster, in the First Presbyterian Church, Duanesburgh (1808) - This sermon by one noted Reformed Presbyterian minister at the ordination of another represents an important ecclesiological statement on the gospel ministry;

  • Eulogies on President George Washington by William Linn, David Ramsay and Samuel Stanhope Smith;

  • John Todd, An Humble Attempt Towards the Improvement of Psalmody: The Propriety, Necessity and Use, of Evangelical Psalms, in Christian Worship. Delivered at a Meeting of the Presbytery of Hanover in Virginia, October 6th, 1762 (1763) — This sermon on song in worship preached during the colonial era is a fascinating read;

  • William Edward Schenck, The Faith of Christ's Ministers: An Example For His People: A Discourse Commemorative of Benjamin Holt Rice, D.D., Preached in the First Presbyterian Church, Princeton, New Jersey, on Sabbath Morning, July 20, 1856 (1856);

  • Many works by Theodore L. Cuyler, J. Addison Alexander, James McCosh, Thomas De Witt Talmage, Henry Van Dyke, Jr., and numerous novels by Isabella Macdonald Alden, a prolific Presbyterian author, known best by her pen name, “Pansy,” written for young people primarily;

Also, take note of some works recently added to our Compilations page, such as:

  • The Constitution of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America Containing the Confession of Faith, the Catechisms, the Government and Discipline, and the Directory For the Worship of God (1789);

  • A Narrative of the Revival of Religion, in the County of Oneida [New York], Particularly in the Bounds of the Presbytery of Oneida, in the Year 1826 (1826);

  • The Testimony of the United Presbyterian Church of North America (1858);

  • Overture on Reunion: The Reports of the Joint Committee of the Two General Assemblies of 1866-7, and of the Special Committee of the (N. S.) General Assembly of 1868 (1868)

  • The Confessional Statement of the United Presbyterian Church of North America (1926) — This document dramatically changed the worship and government of the UPCNA; and

  • Many psalters published by UPCNA and the Reformed Presbyterian Church of North America (RPCNA).

There is much more that is new to explore on these and other pages at Log College Press, and of course all that is new is old, so if you appreciate old treasures, please dive in and enjoy. We are always growing, and dusting off antique volumes for your reading pleasure.

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.

A Walk Through Green-Wood Cemetery

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If you are one of those rare individuals who enjoys strolling through cemeteries and contemplating the past, you may appreciate this post. If historic cemeteries are not your cup of tea, please indulge this writer’s request for a few moments of your time to consider nevertheless the conjunction in history of some notable persons who once took such a stroll together and wrote about the meaning it had for them.

Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York.

The year was 1878. Dean Stanley (A.P. Stanley), the English Anglican historian, was touring America and had occasion to give a lecture on the noted Biblical geographer Edward Robinson. Both Philip Schaff and Theodore L. Cuyler tell the story of the tour of Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York that followed.

In David S. Schaff, The Life of Philip Schaff, in Part Autobiographical, pp. 329-330, we find this account:

The following day [after Dean Stanley’s lecture], Dr. Schaff, in company with Dr. Theodore L. Cuyler and Dr. Henry M. Field, accompanied the dean on a pilgrimage to Greenwood Cemetery to visit the grave of Dr. Edward Robinson. "This was a most interesting and touching visit," he notes, "of four mourners to the grave of that eminent scholar to whom Stanley paid such a graceful tribute in Union Seminary. Dr. Robinson's son and daughter were there by appointment to meet us. After looking at the simple granite monument, the dean exclaimed, 'That granite crown is simple solidity, just like the man himself.'" From there, the party went to the grave of Dr. Cuyler's little boy, George, whose death was the occasion of that book of comfort to the bereaved, The Empty Crib.

The site where Georgie Cuyler is laid to rest at Green-Wood Cemetery.

Dr. Cuyler writes in Recollections of a Long Life: An Autobiography, pp. 96-97, speaking of the book written after the death of his young son Georgie:

Dean Stanley read it aloud to Lady Augusta Stanley in the Deanery of Westminster ; and when I took him to our own unrivalled Greenwood Cemetery he asked to be driven to the spot where the dust of our dear boy is slumbering. many thousands have visited that grave and gazed with tender admiration on the exquisite marble medallion of the childface, — by the sculptor, Charles Calverley, — which adorns the monument.

Cuyler goes (pp. 113-114) to speak at greater length of that 1878 visit to the cemetery with his friends.

When Dean Stanley visited America in the autumn of 1878, I met him several times, and he was especially cordial, and all the more so because of my out-spoken letter [offering a gentle criticism of a sermon preached by Dean Stanley]. The first time I met him was at the meeting of ministers of New York to give him a reception, and hear him deliver a discourse on Dr. Robinson, the Oriental geographer. He recognized me in the audience, came forward to the front of the platform, beckoned me up, and gave me a hearty grasp of the hand. I arranged to take him to Greenwood Cemetery on the morning before he sailed for home, and after breakfasting with him at Cyrus W. Field's we started for the cemetery. Dr. Phillip Schaff and Dr. Henry M. Field met us at the ferry, and accompanied us. When we entered the elevated railroad car, Stanley exclaimed: "This is like the chariots on the walls of Babylon." With his keen interest in history he inquired when we reached the lower part of the Bowery, near the junction of Chatham Square: "Was it not near here that Nathan Hale, the martyr, was executed?" and he showed then a more accurate knowledge of our local history than one New Yorker in ten thousand can boast! That was probably the exact locality, and Dean Stanley had never been there before. Before entering the Greenwood Cemetery he requested me to drive him to the spot where my little child was buried, whose photograph in "The Empty Crib" I have referred to in a previous chapter. When we reached the burial lot he got out of the carriage, and in the driving wind, of a raw November morning, spent some time in examining the marble medallion of the child, and in talking with my wife most sweetly about him. I could have hugged the man on the spot. It was so like Stanley. I do not wonder that everybody loved him. We then drove to the tomb of Dr. Edward Robinson and the Dean said to us: “In all my travels in Palestine I carried Dr. Robinson's volume, 'Biblical Researches,' with me on horseback or on my camel; it was my constant guide book."

Dr. Cuyler certainly had a special place in his heart for this cemetery. In 1870, he wrote a short article called A Walk in Greenwood Cemetery, New York, in which he states: “For some years past, my favorite resort has been the beautiful and incomparable Greenwood. It has no rival in the world.” He speaks of the connection between this spot and his little Georgie:

Yesterday I went to Greenwood alone. How often, in times past, have I walked there with a pair of little feet tripping beside me, which now, alas! are laid under a mound of green turf and flowers. The night before the precious child departed, having wearied himself with play, he quaintly said, “My little footies are tired at both ends.” Ere twenty-four hours were past, the tired feet had ended life’s short journey, and were laid to the dreamless rest.

Further on, in his concluding remarks on that particular 1870 visit, he shares his farewell thoughts:

To me, the most captivating view is from Sylvan Cliff, overlooking Sylvan Water. On that green brow stands a monument which bears the figure of Faith kneeling before a cross, and beneath it the world-known lines of Toplady: —

”Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to thy cross I cling!”

As I stood beside that graceful tablet yesterday, the light of an October sun threw its mellow radiance over the crimsoning foliage, and the green turf, and the sparkling water of the fountain which played in the vale beneath. In the distance was the placid bay, with one stately ship resting at anchor, — a beautiful emblem of a Christian soul whose voyage had ended in the peaceful repose of the “desired haven.” The sun went down into the purpling horizon as I stood there; a bird or two was twittering its evening song; the air was as silent as the unnumbered sleepers around me; and, turning toward the sacred spot where my precious dead is lying, I bade him as of old, Good-night!

The Cuyler family plot at Green-Wood Cemetery.

To this “garden of souls” Dr. Cuyler would eventually return, along with many of his family members, to await to the final resurrection. Among those with whom his body is laid to rest, besides little Georgie, are his wife Annie (d. 1915), his daughter Louise (d. 1881), whose death inspired Cuyler to write his classic devotional work of comfort God’s Light on Dark Clouds, others that bear his name such as Theodore L. Cuyler, Jr. (d. 1943), Theodore L. Cuyler III (d. 1976), and Theodore L. Cuyler IV (d. 2003).

The cemetery may seem to be full of death, but to those who tread lightly and take time to study the epitaphs on the tombstones, it may be found that one seemingly in the midst of death is in fact in the midst of life. The lives of those who have gone before remind us of precious blessings that God has given for a time, and the journey that is not yet over. We may not recognize all the names we pass, but “no man is an island…because I am involved with mankind” (Donne). For those personally touched by the tombstones we visit, “weeping may endure for a night” (Ps. 30:5), but what comfort in these words, “unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings” (Mal. 4:2).

Able and Faithful Presbyterian Ministers

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It was in trying to fulfill my responsibilities as pastor of a Presbyterian Church in the farming country of Pennsylvania that I first became interested in the question of what worship according to the Reformed tradition should be. As I tried to search out the meaning of Reformed worship, I became more and more convinced that I must travel to those lands in which the Reformation had taken place, learn the languages the Reformers spoke and search the documents they left behind. So it was that I found myself living as a foreigner in Europe for almost seven years. -- Hughes Oliphant Old, preface to "The Patristic Roots of Reformed Worship”

Most of us do well to know our primary language sufficiently to communicate with those around us. Bilingual ability is a great blessing. In keeping with the Presbyterian tradition of promoting a learned and educated ministry, ministers do well to know their primary language, plus Hebrew and Greek. Latin was the language of scholars of the past, and knowledge of same has its significant benefits today. But there are some whose linguistic abilities are so special as to be regarded as extraordinary gifts.

Among our Log College Press authors, there are many who could be highlighted as noteworthy in this area. James Robert Boyd, for example, was fluent in six languages. There are many missionaries whose fluency in native tongues led them to write grammar-dictionaries that have since served as valuable reference works. B.B. Warfield knew — besides English, Hebrew and Greek — Latin, German, French, and certainly had some familiarity with Dutch, if not more. Isidor Loewenthal, the famous missionary and Bible translator, who was born in Poland, educated at Princeton and died in India, “could preach with facility in the Pushtu, Persian, Hindustani and Arabic languages.” According to one biography, he was “a master of the classical languages of Europe as well as of Hebrew and its cognate languages Arabic and Chaldee.” Robert Dick Wilson is said to have mastered 45 languages. Many more examples could be given, but there is one particular gifted linguist which we intend to highlight especially today.

We can thank Henry C. Alexander for the detailed list which follows concerning his uncle Joseph Addison Alexander’s knowledge of languages (Henry C. Alexander, The Life of Joseph Addison Alexander, Vol. 2, pp. 862-865).

  1. Arabic: of which he was a consummate master, from a child, and wrote with some ease, but which he could scarcely be said to speak.

  2. Hebrew: ditto.

  3. Latin: which he knew profoundly, from a child, and wrote and spoke.

  4. Persian: which he knew intimately, from a child, and wrote, but did not speak.

  5. Syriac: which he knew intimately, from a child, and perhaps wrote, but did not speak.

  6. Chaldee: which he knew as well, or nearly as well, as he did Hebrew, and read with rapidity without a lexicon.

  7. Greek: which he knew profoundly, from a child, and wrote, but did not attempt to speak.

  8. Italian: which he read with the same facility he did English, and spoke.

  9. German: which he knew profoundly, from his youth, and wrote and spoke.

  10. Spanish: which he knew thoroughly, and probably wrote and spoke.

  11. French: which he read, wrote and spoke with ease.

  12. English: which he knew no less profoundly than familiarly.

  13. Ethiopic: which he knew philologically and profoundly, and could read without difficulty.

  14. Chinese: of which, in its innumerable details, he had but a smattering, but knew pretty well philologically.

  15. Romaic: which he read and wrote with ease.

  16. Portuguese: which he read with ease, but perhaps did not attempt to speak.

  17. Danish: which he says he soon “read fluently with a dictionary,” and probably in time, without one.

  18. Turkish; and

  19. Sanscrit: which (soon after he acquired them) he says were “becoming quite familiar,” and doubtless became more so.

  20. Polish: which he read with ease, though probably with the aid of the lexicon.

  21. Malay: which he began in connection with Chinese, and probably read with a dictionary.

  22. Coptic: which he knew philologically and, I think, profoundly, and read, though perhaps not with ease.

  23. Swedish: which he read with ease; at least with the dictionary.

  24. Dutch: which he read, perhaps with ease; at least with the dictionary.

He no doubt had an inkling of the nature, and a glimpse into the structure of many others, which he has not named, and knew part of the vocabulary of others.

Summary: He knew profoundly, not only philologically but linguistically, i.e., read, wrote, and spoke well —

  1. English.

  2. Latin.

  3. German.

  4. French.

  5. (Almost certainly) Italian.

  6. (Almost certainly) Spanish.

  7. (Probably) Portuguese.

It is quite possible that he knew several others in this way. He knew profoundly as a philologist, and read without helps, and wrote, but did not speak — i.e., not familiarly —

  1. Arabic.

  2. Hebrew.

  3. Persian.

  4. Greek (which, however, he may have spoken a little.)

  5. Romaic: ditto.

  6. Chaldee: which he knew as well, or nearly as well, as he did Hebrew, and read with rapidity without a lexicon.

  7. (Probably) Ethiopic, which he certainly read, though perhaps with difficulty.

  8. (Probably) Dutch, which he certainly read, though perhaps not with ease.

  9. (Possibly) Sanscrit, which he certainly read, though perhaps with some difficulty.

  10. (Possibly) Syraic, which he read with perfect ease, but probably did not write.

  11. (Possibly) Coptic, which he read, and I think easily, but probably did not write.

  12. (Possibly) Danish, which he read without a lexicon, but probably did not write.

  13. (Probably) Flemish.

  14. (Possibly) Norwegian.

He knew profoundly as a philologist, and read with ease with the help of lexicons —

  1. Polish: which it is barely possible he came to read without a dictionary, and even to write.

  2. Swedish: ditto.

He knew well philologically, and pretty well I suppose, but had but a smattering of its details:

  1. Chinese: and 2, I think he had some knowledge of Hindostanee.

He also had a masterly acquaintance with the Rabbinical Hebrew, and several dialects of languages which are mentioned in this catalogue.

He no doubt, too, had some slight acquaintance with several other proper languages, as distinguished from mere dialectical variations of one language. He may, indeed, have acquired a few languages of which there is no record.

He was thus a perfect master of probably eight or ten languages; though it is not possible to determine in every instance precisely what ones. Dr. Sears testifies, that when a student in Germany he spoke about as many as Tholuck, which was at least six. He knew profoundly, as a philologist, and wrote, certainly thirteen, probably fourteen or fifteen, possibly nineteen, or even by chance, over twenty. He knew profoundly as a philologist at least, and read with ease, with the help of the lexicons, almost certainly twenty-one, and well, probably twenty-four. He knew in all, at least slightly, and in one way or another, probably between twenty-five and thirty. He knew, at least well enough for him to claim to know something of them, twenty-five, including English, and excluding mere dialectical variations of any one language.

And herein is an insight to J. Addison Alexander’s extensive linguistic knowledge which is evident in his articles, Biblical commentaries, and other writings. What a gift to know languages, and what a blessing to readers even today who benefit from such knowledge. In the words of Roger Bacon (Opus Tertium), “Knowledge of languages is the first gateway to wisdom.”

De Witt Talmage: Seek the God of the Pleiades and Orion

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Seek him that maketh the seven stars and Orion (Amos 5:8).

Some of Thomas De Witt Talmage’s sermons are so rich in word-pictures that they appear to us as a bright as the night sky far away from any electric lights. A case in point comes from his discourse on “The Pleiades and Orion” in New Tabernacle Sermons (1886).

A country farmer wrote this text—Amos of Tekoa. He plowed the earth and threshed the grain by a new threshing-machine just invented, as formerly the cattle trod out the grain. He gathered the fruit of the sycamore-tree, and scarified it with an iron comb just before it was getting ripe, as it was necessary and customary in that way to take from it the bitterness. He was the son of a poor shepherd, and stuttered; but before the stammering rustic the Philistines, and Syrians, and Phoenicians, and Moabites, and Ammonites, and Edomites, and Israelites trembled.

Moses was a law-giver, Daniel was a prince, Isaiah a courtier, and David a king; but Amos, the author of my text, was a peasant, and, as might be supposed, nearly all his parallelisms are pastoral, his prophecy full of the odor of new-mown hay, and the rattle of locusts, and the rumble of carts with sheaves, and the roar of wild beasts devouring the flock while the shepherd came out in their defense. He watched the herds by day, and by night inhabited a booth made out of bushes, so that through these branches he could see the stars all night long, and was more familiar with them than we who have tight roofs to our houses, and hardly ever see the stars except among the tall brick chimneys of the great towns. But at seasons of the year when the herds were in special danger, he would stay out in the open field all through the darkness, his only shelter the curtain of the night, heaven, with the stellar embroideries and silvered tassels of lunar light.

What a life of solitude, all alone with his herds! Poor Amos! And at twelve o'clock at night, hark to the wolf's bark, and the lion's roar, and the bear's growl, and the owl's te-whit-te-whos, and the serpent's hiss, as he unwittingly steps too near while moving through the thickets! So Amos, like other herdsmen, got the habit of studying the map of the heavens, because it was so much of the time spread out before him. He noticed some stars advancing and others receding. He associated their dawn and setting with certain seasons of the year. He had a poetic nature, and he read night by night, and month by month, and year by year, the poem of the constellations, divinely rhythmic. But two rosettes of stars especially attracted his attention while seated on the ground, or lying on his back under the open scroll of the midnight heavens—the Pleiades, or Seven Stars, and Orion. The former group this rustic prophet associated with the spring, as it rises about the first of May. The latter he associated with the winter, as it comes to the meridian in January. The Pleiades, or Seven Stars, connected with all sweetness and joy: Orion, the herald of the tempest.

Talmage goes on to say:

In the first place, Amos saw, as we must see, that the God who made the Pleiades and Orion must be the God of order. It was not so much a star here and a star there that impressed the inspired herdsman, but seven in one group, and seven in the other group. He saw that night after night and season after season and decade after decade they had kept step of light, each one in its own place, a sisterhood never clashing and never contesting precedence. From the time Hesiod called the Pleiades the "seven daughters of Atlas" and Virgil wrote in his Aeneid of "Stormy Orion" until now, they have observed the order established for their coming and going; order written not in manuscript that may be pigeon-holed, but with the hand of the Almighty on the dome of the sky, so that all nations may read it. Order. Persistent order. Sublime order. Omnipotent order.

What a sedative to you and me, to whom communities and nations sometimes seem going pell-mell, and world ruled by some fiend at hap-hazard, and in all directions maladministration! The God who keeps seven worlds in right circuit for six thousand years can certainly keep all the affairs of individuals and nations and continents in adjustment. We had not better fret much, for the peasant's argument of the text was right. If God can take care of the seven worlds of the Pleiades and the four chief worlds of Orion, He can probably take care of the one world we inhabit.

Truly, what a great comfort it is to place our trust in the One who creates and governs the stars, as well as the Earth upon which we live.

In your occupation, your mission, your sphere, do the best you can, and then trust to God; and if things are all mixed and disquieting, and your brain is hot and your heart sick, get some one to go out with you into the starlight and point out to you the Pleiades, or, better than that, get into some observatory, and through the telescope see further than Amos with the naked eye could—namely, two hundred stars in the Pleiades, and that in what is called the sword of Orion there is a nebula computed to be two trillion two hundred thousand billions of times larger than the sun. Oh, be at peace with the God who made all that and controls all that—the wheel of the constellations turning in the wheel of galaxies for thousands of years without the breaking of a cog or the slipping of a band or the snap of an axle. For your placidity and comfort through the Lord Jesus Christ I charge you, "Seek Him that maketh the Seven Stars and Orion."

Our preacher continues further:

Oh, what a mercy it is that in the text and all up and down the Bible God induces us to look out toward other worlds! Bible astronomy in Genesis, in Joshua, in Job, in the Psalms, in the prophets, major and minor, in St. John's Apocalypse, practically saying, "Worlds! worlds! worlds! Get ready for them!" We have a nice little world here that we stick to, as though losing that we lose all. We are afraid of falling off this little raft of a world. We are afraid that some meteoric iconoclast will some night smash it, and we want everything to revolve around it, and are disappointed when we find that it revolves around the sun instead of the sun revolving around it. What a fuss we make about this little bit of a world, its existence only a short time between two spasms, the paroxysm by which it was hurled from chaos into order, and the paroxysm of its demolition.

And I am glad that so many texts call us to look off to other worlds, many of them larger and grander and more resplendent. "Look there,' says Job, "at Mazaroth and Arcturus and his sons!" "Look there," says St. John, "at the moon under Christ's feet!" "Look there," says Joshua, "at the sun standing still above Gibeon!" "Look there," says Moses, "at the sparkling firmament!" "Look there," says Amos, the herdsman, "at the Seven Stars and Orion!" Don't let us be so sad about those who shove off from this world under Christly pilotage. Don't let us be so agitated about our own going off this little barge or sloop or canal-boat of a world to get on some "Great Eastern" of the heavens. Don't let us persist in wanting to stay in this barn, this shed, this outhouse of a world, when all the King's palaces already occupied by many of our best friends are swinging wide open their gates to let us in.

There is a reason why the Scriptures call us to look heavenward, at the celestial. In the words of John Calvin, “Job's intent here is to teach us to be astronomers” (commentary on Job 9). Although given dominion over this beautiful blue globe, and called to till the ground and give a good account of our stewardship, we who are created in the image of God are called to not be satisfied with the earthly and temporal, but to long for the heavenly and eternal. We are called to seek the God of the Pleiades and Orion. Read Talmage’s full sermon on this topic and many more here, and pause to meditate upon not only the wonders of creation, especially in the skies above, but to ponder the love of our God for such as we.

When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? (Ps. 8:3-4)

Introducing a Five-Part Series on J. Gresham Machen

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Editorial note: Our guest writer today is Rich Brown, a pastor in the Blue Ridge Presbytery (PCA) in Lynchburg, VA and doctoral student at Westminster Theological Seminary (Philadelphia).

 

            As we approach the 100th anniversary of the classic work, Christianity and Liberalism (1923), I am honored to partner with Log College Press in publishing a five-part series on the life and ministry of J. Gresham Machen (1881–1937). Each month, subscribers to the Dead Presbyterians Society will receive access to a new chapter on Machen, covering all sorts of nuances, ranging from his apologetic method and evangelistic zeal to his preaching ministry and humble personality.

            In large part, these chapters are written in commemoration of the monumental work, Christianity and Liberalism, which yet still testifies to the truth of Scripture, unchangeable. Furthermore, the research with which you are invited to engage is expressly committed to the preservation of interest in Machen’s unilateral defense of the historic Christian faith—with the hope of instilling a renewed and vigorous reliance upon the authority of the word of God. For as the modern Evangelical Church has borne the weight of watching prominent Christian leaders fall prey to the seductive lies of self-governing Deconstructionism, along with the rise of “Progressive Christianity” from within her own ranks, Machen’s brave resilience in the face of adversity and resistance to the whims of cultural conveniences in the Protestant Church of his own day provide us in the 21st century with a worthy example of a life well lived.

            While we certainly do not want to exalt any mere man, we as the church of the present day are yet compelled to learn diligently from those faithful leaders who have gone before us. Hebrews 13:7 commends us with the following words: “Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith.” This imperative to not only respect, but to emulate those who have abided in the faith is rooted deeply in the timeless, foundational promise of the subsequent verse. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”

            But how can the church learn from those who have gone before and seek to mirror their faithfulness, unless their story is told anew? Such then is not only the didactic aim, but earnest, pastoral desire of this writer and minister of the gospel for you, the reader. My prayer is that the spiritual health and vitality of your own communion with Christ would be enlivened all the more as we consider together the Lord’s work in the life of one of his under-shepherds.

            On a deeply personal level, the writings of Machen have stirred my own affections for Christ over the past decade. For those who are already familiar with Machen’s life and legacy, there is a nuanced warmth to his writings that transcends the polemic for which he is perhaps most widely known. In his correspondences ranging from his personal letters and publicized writings, to his sermons and radio addresses for the sake of Christ’s cherished bride, a truly pastoral demeanor and intonation within Machen’s voice would become all the more manifest as his ministry matured and his influence expanded. And as one becomes more greatly acquainted with Machen’s writings, the text of Galatians 2:20 is evidenced as the binding message of his ministry.

            As a young man, Machen found himself providentially placed in a sphere of influence within both the mainline Presbyterian Church (USA) and one of the nation’s leading institutions: Princeton Theological Seminary. Yet over the course of more than two decades, his lot became one who was made to share in the sufferings of Christ, similar to the Apostle Paul. Fittingly so, Galatians 2:20 increasingly became his most oft-repeated Scripture. Though he came from a family of notable prestige and lived in a dignified manner, he learned to embrace these timeless words: “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives within me.” But Machen also took great comfort in the fruit of such a heavenward disposition. From his first few sermons, until the closing days of his time this side of glory, he both owned and unreservedly declared the refrain of this verse. “And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

            So I invite you, the reader, to learn with me from Machen’s life—flawed, as we all are, yet rooted in the life of Christ. Over the course of five chapters, you will witness both the polemical and pastoral undertones of Machen’s work and influence. In the preface, a brief overview of his ministry will be provided, to help acquaint those who are yet unfamiliar with his writings. Following this, his apologetic method will be explained in chapter one as being in accord with those Princeton theologians before him, yet harmonized with the work of his primary protégé, Cornelius Van Til. The second chapter will then begin to explore the largely untouched aspect of Machen’s genuine humility toward the work of those outside of his own tradition and how he bestowed the benefit of the doubt in areas that were better addressed by those in tune with differing philosophies—namely, Barthianism. Subsequently, chapter three will largely focus upon how the doctrine of the Imputation of the Active Obedience of Christ, derived from the Scottish Reformers, influenced his ministry, especially as his platform in speaking to other like-minded Evangelicals grew in the 1920s and early 1930s. Chapter four will take more of a pragmatic stance in exploring Machen’s concern for Christian and civil liberties alike and how the intersection of such God-derived freedoms are of utmost value to hearers in our modern day and age, which is wrestling with the application of such nobilities. Finally, chapter five will express an important aspect of Machen’s preaching ministry: his zeal for evangelism in keeping with his commitment to delivering the whole council of God. Pastoral thoughts and reflections will then be provided, respective of the work as a whole.

We hope you will join us on this excursus and be encouraged to “stay the course!”

Nathan Strong (1748-1816): Founder of the Connecticut Evangelical Magazine

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Editorial Note: Our guest writer today is Tom Sullivan, who for 36 years has served as The Narrated Puritan at Puritan and Reformed Audiobooks, and also serves as a research assistant for Dr. Sam Waldron, President, Covenant Baptist Theological Seminary.

Nathan Strong, was born in Coventry, Connecticut; ordained on Jan. 5, 1773; and served as pastor of the First Church, Hartford, where he remained until the close of life, Dec. 25, 1816.

This church received its fame from its first pastor Thomas Hooker, the Puritan founder of the Colony of Connecticut. It was known in Strong's day as the North Presbyterian Church in Hartford.

In 1798, Strong became the chief organizer of the Connecticut Missionary Society. Two years later, he became the principal founder and editor of The Connecticut Evangelical Magazine, which was also at that time a new departure, and which was destined to continue through fifteen volumes.

From an article in the Christian Spectator for 1833: “The plan of this work originated with Dr. Strong, and the labor of conducting it devolved chiefly on him. It was continued fifteen years, and amounted to as many volumes.” The first seven volumes were titled The Connecticut Evangelical Magazine (1800-1807); the next eight were titled The Connecticut Evangelical Magazine; and Religious Intelligencer (1808-1815).

Christian periodicals had long found their usefulness in England, but the reason for it not known in the Colonies was supposed that there was not enough material to keep the magazine interesting. However, at the beginning of the 19th century numerous revivals had been reported not only in local assemblies, but at the College of New Jersey under the presidency of Ashbel Green, and Yale College under the presidency of Timothy Dwight.

In the first editorial, Strong wrote, “The late wonderful outpouring of the Holy Spirit and revival of experimental religion, in large districts of the American Church will furnish much matter for publication to delight the hearts satisfy the benevolence of the children of God. There has not hath been so great and extensive a work of divine grace in this land since the years 1742 and 1744.”

Another goal of this magazine was to report on “the wonderful spirit of missions to heathen people, and to our new and scattered settlements on the borders of the wilderness…” The timing of this was providential for the magazine was started at the same period that the “Great Revival of 1800” had just started in Kentucky under the pastoral charge of James McGready (1763-1817). It was to Nathan Strong that Archibald Alexander wrote in January 1802, including correspondence from George A. Baxter, concerning a report on that notable revival.

From the Annals of the American Pulpit, Vol. 2, p. 36, William Sprague wrote: “It may be doubted whether he ever rendered a more important service to the church or to the country, than in the part which he took in establishing and sustaining the Connecticut Missionary Society.”

In 1801, he was honored with the degree of Doctor of Divinity from the College of New Jersey. A eulogy written from Thomas Robbins upon his death:

Dr. Strong was, for many years, my neighbor and intimate friend. I had an opportunity of observing him and there is perhaps no man who has departed, in respect to whose character I have a more definite and well considered opinion. [As the end of Strong’s mortal life approached] I remember to have been present on one occasion, when a neighboring minister put to him the question, “Are you ready to go yet?” and he replied, — “Yes, tomorrow, if God pleases."

Such was the piety of this long-time minister of God’s Word, founder of the Connecticut Evangelical Magazine.

Archibald Alexander's 250th Birthday

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Today marks the 250th anniversary of the birthday of Archibald Alexander, one of America’s most notable theologians, born near Lexington, Virginia, on Friday, April 17, 1772. His son and biographer, James W. Alexander, records the location of his entrance to this world in Archibald’s own words (written in 1839):

The house in which I was born was built of square logs, as were most of the houses at that time. The place is rough, and is near a little mountain stream, called the South River, which, after joining the North River, falls into the James River, just above its entrance into the mountains. Nearly opposite to the place, Irish Creek, a bold stream from a gorge of the mountain, falls into the South River. This my birthplace was at that time in Augusta County, which was unlimited to the west; it is now in Rockbridge County, and is about seven miles from Lexington, in an eastern direction.

Sherman Isbell adds this bit of information:

William's son Archibald was born on his grandfather's land on South River, nearly opposite the mouth of Irish Creek. Just north of Irish Creek, a private bridge on the left crosses to the west side of the South River. Dr. Archibald Alexander was born in a log house on the west side of the river, on April 17, 1772. An historical plaque to mark the area where Dr. Alexander was born was set up about 1958, but has been repeatedly washed out by local flooding, and until recently was stored in the basement of the Rockbridge Historical Society's Campbell House at 101 East Washington Street in Lexington. We have received a report that the plaque has now been mounted on a rock by Dr. Horace Douty at the intersection of Irish Creek and South River Road, not far from its previous location.

From a log cabin on the farm owned by his father, William Alexander, Archibald went on serve the kingdom of God as a missionary, a pastor, a college president, moderator of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America, and as the first theological professor at Princeton Theological Seminary, not to mention as a husband and a father. He was a man of eminent piety, diligent in his labors, and fruitful in his service.

Although we commemorate his earthly birth on this date, which we consider a tribute to this man of God, yet he would say that it is regeneration, that is, the new birth of the soul by the power of the Holy Spirit, that ought to be of the greatest concern to every individual in this world: “There is no more important event which occurs in our world than the new birth of an immortal soul” (A. Alexander, Thoughts on Religious Experience, p. 53).

For more biographical information concerning the life of Archibald Alexander, consider the following resources at Log College Press:

The semiquincentennial of Archibald Alexander’s birth falls on the Lord’s Day this year, and we give glory to God for the remembrance of his most excellent of divines, who called Alexander to the ministry and caused him to leave a lasting spiritual legacy that endures. May his life of faithful service to the King of kings inspire many even in our day and beyond to dedicate themselves to the work of the kingdom for the advancement of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Samuel Blatchford: Heaven is an Eternal Sabbath

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When we've been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we've no less days to sing God's praise, than when we'd first begun. — John Newton, “Amazing Grace”

A sermon delivered by Samuel Blatchford (1767-1828) not long before his passing from this life to the next still speaks to a truth of great importance to our own generation almost two centuries later. Preached on November 27, 1825 and published the following year, the sermon was titled The Sanctification of the Sabbath. Among the points made in conclusion (p. 20), we find a powerful argument for adhering to the Fourth Commandment in the recognition that the Christian Sabbath is in fact a foretaste of heaven.

A very great part of the exercises of the Sabbath, duly sanctified on earth, bears a strong resemblance to the employments of the heavenly world. Heaven is an eternal Sabbath. There the spirits of just men made perfect approach with delight the seat of the infinite Jehovah. With adoring praise, they pour forth their lively gratitude. With exquisite pleasure, they contemplate the Author of all things, who governs and actuates the immensity of beings, which occupy the universe of life. The hallelujahs of praise break forth in uninterrupted harmony from every angel, and every redeemed sinner. And, my brethren, in the due sanctification of this holy day on earth; in a general consent to worship God; not to speak our own words, nor to think our own thoughts; to have our meditation of God; to croud [sic] about his altars; to esteem a day spent in the courts of the Lord’s house preferable to a thousand elsewhere: O! this is to congregate with the hosts of glory, and to constitute a heaven upon the earth. Hereby we shall know him who hath sanctified the Sabbath, and be maturing for those enjoyments, where there remaineth a rest, a Sabbatismos, for the people of God.

What a profound thought it is to recall that our exercises of worship on the Lord’s Day are but prelude to joining the heavenly choir itself, to glorify God in heaven even more perfectly forever than we aim to do on earth each week. When we exalt the name of God together from one Sabbath to the next, we begin to taste the delight that awaits us where we will praise Him unceasingly. Read Blatchford’s full sermon on The Sanctification of the Sabbath here, and consider the reward of keeping God’s day holy on earth, which is a but a taste of heaven.

An Update on B.B. Warfield

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B.B. Warfield was one of the most prolific American Presbyterian writers, if not the most prolific. Recently, at Log College Press, we reached a milestone — there are now over 400 works on his page.

Many newly-added articles pertain to the Didache, the Biblical doctrine of inspiration, textual criticism, and the Westminster Assembly. One noteworthy article, currently available to read at the Early Access page for members of the Dead Presbyterians Society, is one not found in John E. Meeter & Roger Nicole, A Bibliography of Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield, 1851-1921 (1974) — Presbyterians and Their Creed (1901).

Some of the writings added in recent weeks include reviews by Warfield, from various periodicals, of writers such as Anselm, Augustine, Herman Bavinck, Louis F. Benson, Robert L. Dabney, Émile Doumergue, Charles E. Edwards, D. Hay Fleming, Henry C. Minton, A.F. Mitchell, George T. Purves, Edwin W. Rice, W.G.T. Shedd, Charles H. Spurgeon, Pierre Viret, Geerhardus Vos, and many others.

Although the internet is a big place and not every site pertaining to Warfield has been fully reviewed, it is believed that the Log College Press Warfield page currently constitutes the largest available resource of Warfield’s writings in one place on the internet, and the project of adding more of his writings is ongoing. Meanwile, take time to peruse the page, and enjoy!

Justice Harlan and a Place for Dissent

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Yesterday, in the midst of a Senate confirmation hearing for Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson, who has been nominated to serve on the U.S. Supreme Court, the question was posed: “What do you think is the purpose of a dissent?” In her response, Judge Jackson made reference to a famous dissenting opinion by a noted Presbyterian jurist whom we have written about previously on Log College Press. She said,

There are actually many justices in history who have used the dissent mechanism to discuss the law in ways that others find, over time, to be more persuasive,” Jackson said. “I’m thinking of the first Justice Harlan, who dissented famously in Plessy v. Ferguson [1896]. He dissented alone. All of the other justices agreed with the proposition of ‘separate but equal,’ and he said ‘no’ in a dissent. And his dissent generations later became … the blueprint for Justice Marshall to make arguments that led to Brown v. Board [of Education of Topeka, 1954].

When Justice Harlan dissented from the Plessy “separate but equal” doctrine, he wrote:

But in view of the constitution, in the eye of the law, there is in this country no superior, dominant, ruling class of citizens. There is no caste here. Our constitution is color-blind, and neither knows nor tolerates classes among citizens. In respect of civil rights, all citizens are equal before the law. The humblest is the peer of the most powerful. The law regards man as man, and takes no account of his surroundings or of his color when his civil rights as guaranteed by the supreme law of the land are involved. It is, therefore, to be regretted that this high tribunal, the final expositor of the fundamental law of the land, has reached the conclusion that it is competent for a State to regulate the enjoyment by citizens of their civil rights solely upon the basis of race. In my opinion, the judgment this day rendered will, in time, prove to be quite as pernicious as the decision made by this tribunal in the Dred Scott case.

Fifty-eight years later, in Brown v. Board of Education, the U.S. Supreme Court repudiated Plessy in favor of the principle that racial segregation, even regarding otherwise equal facilities, is unjust, and finally affirmed the dissenting opinion of Justice Harlan, giving encouragement to those who, taking the long view, and trusting in God, believe that justice and truth will ultimately prevail.

E.P. Humphrey: Where is the spirit of those faithful ministers of old?

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And it came to pass, when they were gone over, that Elijah said unto Elisha, Ask what I shall do for thee, before I be taken away from thee. And Elisha said, I pray thee, let a double portion of thy spirit be upon me (2 Kings 2:9)

Our Theology in Its Developments is a sermon preached before the General Assembly (Old School) of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (PCUSA) which met at Charleston, South Carolina, in 1852, by Moderator Edward Porter Humphrey (1809-1887) and later published in 1857. From this interesting sermon, which lays out seven particular aspects of “our theology,” we have a poignant concluding clarion call to consider the past in light of the present (pp. 83-85).

Let no man say that within the precincts of a church which has gathered into a single graveyard [Princeton Cemetery] the ashes of Samuel Davies, Archibald Alexander, and Jonathan Edwards; the first memorable for the awakening power of his sermons; the second trying the spirits and discerning even the thoughts of our rising ministry; and the third preaching a sermon on the doctrine of election, which was mighty in the conversion of sinners, and delivering another, so instinct with the terrors of the Lord as to bring his audience to their feet, and compel the preacher, who sat behind him in the pulpit, to start up with the exclamation, “Mr. Edwards! Mr. Edwards, is not God merciful too?” The sepulchres of these men are with us until this day, and so is their theology; but where is the spirit of profound meditation and importunate prayer with which they prepared their sermons? Where is their vehemency and tenderness of utterance? Where their annihilating reply to the disputers of this world, their masterly appeal to the understanding, and their onset on the conscience?

May these words serve to remind us almost two centuries later that we may have the theology of our fathers in our heads and in the books we read, but we must also seek after their heart, their passion and join ourselves to their piety and prayers. It is not enough to admire the tombstones in a cemetery such as Princeton, but we ought to consider the example set by those men who went before us and left a godly legacy that we might, by the help of the Holy Spirit, preach, pray and live as they did.

Sabbath Night by J.H. Bocock

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On the Lord’s Day, or Christian Sabbath, it is good to contemplate the comforts that are given to us by our blessed Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. After the day’s devotions, which are a taste of heaven, with cognizance of our failures to keep the day holy as we ought, we may nevertheless take refuge in Him who gives rest and peace, not as the world gives, but from above. Consider a poem by John Holmes Bocock (1813-1872) as found in Selections From the Religious and Literary Writings of John H. Bocock, D.D. (1891), pp. 546-547, which highlights such an appreciation of Sabbath blessings and comforts.

Sabbath Night

Rest, weary spirit, rest,
From toil and trouble free;
Lean on the Saviour’s breast
Who giveth rest to thee!

Lie there, ye cares and fears,
I cast you at his feet;
From all my fears and cares
I take this sure retreat.

Beneath his wings I crowd,
Close to his side I press:
None such was e’er allowed
To perish without grace.

O sprinkle me with blood!
My heart would feel the stream
From out thy side that flowed,
Us, sinners, to redeem!

Yet closer still I come!
Reveal thyself to me:
O let me feel that home
Is at thy feet to be.

I calmly seek repose;
Pardon my Sabbath sin,
And to my dreams disclose
That heaven thou dwellest in.

A 19th Century Example of Paying it Forward

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Writing for the October 1870 issue of Our Monthly magazine, Edwin B. Raffensperger wrote a brief Reminiscence of Rev. Archibald Alexander, D.D. Having read over James W. Alexander’s biography of Archibald Alexander, he took special note of a remark on p. 605:

During his illness he dictated a paper to be taken around for subscription toward the relief of a young man whose studies had been interrupted by disease.

Raffensperberger, who himself graduated from Princeton Theological Seminary in 1852, informed his readers that the paper referred to had been in his possession for the last 19 years. It was considered “a valuable memento of Princeton,” where he was a student at the time certain events transpired.

A fellow student from Ohio one day fell dangerously ill. Despite the advice and counsel of “eminent medical men in Philadelphia and New York,” this young student, a man of great promise we are told, lay near death’s door. At the house where he was staying, he was cared for by a brother and sister, the latter of whom would go on to marry one of the doctors who came to visit. The sick student’s illness included symptoms of spasms and feats of incredible strength (though unable to rise or walk, he could crush an apple in his bare hand).

Concern for this young man and whether he would live spread throughout the Princeton community. At the same time Archibald Alexander lay on his deathbed. One day a messenger came to Raffensperger with a request to approach the bedside of Alexander. Raffensperger tells of their conversation:

I found him very feeble. In a few touching words he expressed his deep sympathy for the poor student and regretted his inability to call and see him during the two years of his sickness. “I have asked my daughter,” said he, “to prepare a subscription paper, and the members of my family have contributed $19.00, which you will find inclosed with the paper. Will you take it and call upon the citizens and students to increase it to $50.00, and then pay half to the brother and sister who have taken such good care of him, and the other half to the student?”

I expressed my willingness to carry out his wish, but inquired whether he would restrict the sum to $50.00, as I hoped, with such a start, to raise much more. He took my hand and said, “Take the paper. Raise all you can and God bless you.”

It was a few days later that Alexander entered into his eternal rest. After Alexander was interred at Princeton Cemetery, a grand total of $300.00 was raised on behalf of the sick student and the brother and sister. Raffensperger continues:

Hear now the conclusion of the whole matter.

Contrary to all our plans for the funeral, that patient recovered, entered the ministry and has for years been laboring successfully in the West He is now one of the jolliest Doctors of Divinity in the reunited Church.

One wonders the name of this jolly minister from Ohio. Perhaps one of our readers will have an idea? In any case, this concern on Alexander’s deathbed for a poor student was an inspiration and a blessing to others, and the little-known story is worth of remembrance.

Defining Theology with Dr. Girardeau

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Editorial note: Our guest writer today is Zachary Groff, Director of Advancement & Admissions at Greenville Presbyterian Theological Seminary and Pastor of Antioch Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Woodruff, SC.

John Lafayette Girardeau (1825-98) occupies a significant place in the history of American Presbyterianism. His importance is most evident in his record of service to the Church as a preacher, pastor, churchman, and seminary professor. In 1875, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States (PCUS) voted to replace William Swan Plumer with Dr. Girardeau as Professor of Didactic and Polemic Theology at Columbia Theological Seminary in South Carolina. On this development, Dr. C. N. Willborn notes, “For the next twenty years, [Dr. Girardeau] carried forth the Thornwellian tradition from the theological chair in Columbia…. Girardeau committed himself to working on those areas of doctrine Thornwell had not been able to complete” (C. N. Willborn, John L. Girardeau (1825-98), Pastor to Slaves and Theologian of Causes, PhD diss, Westminster Theological Seminary, 2003: pgs. 304, 305).

The profundity of Dr. Girardeau’s theological thought is demonstrated in the important (and posthumously published) volume recently posted to Dr. Girardeau’s Log College Press author page: Discussions of Theological Questions. In this anthology of articles and essays, Dr. Girardeau develops a definition (and division) of Theology along the lines of his teacher and predecessor at Columbia, Dr. James Henley Thornwell (1812-62). In doing so, he identifies and confounds variants of the aberrant theology he denominates as Rationalism, including pantheism, intuitionalism, deism, technical rationalism, mysticism, and Romanism. Beyond the discussion of Theology as-such, the volume includes a brief article on the Person of Christ and a very significant contribution to the development of the doctrine of Adoption in Christian soteriology.

Students of American Presbyterian theology will mine rich rewards from a careful consideration of Dr. Girardeau’s Discussions of Theological Questions. While the Discussions is now available to all visitors to the Log College Press website, it was released a couple weeks ago for members of the Dead Presbyterians Society. By signing up for the Society (here), you will gain access to exclusive content, including the Log College Review, a new short-form scholarly resource page with articles on American Presbyterian history and theology. You can read an expanded version of this blog post at the Log College Review in which I give a brief introduction to Dr. Girardeau’s Discussions of Theological Questions by considering his definition of theology as an objective scientific discipline distinguishable from – but necessarily correlative to – subjective religious experience.

Why is Charles G. Finney at Log College Press?

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Some of our readers may wonder why certain writers are found on the Log College Press website. There are writers within various streams of American Presbyterianism with whose views those who are associated with Log College Press certainly do not agree; Charles G. Finney is one notable example of such a person. We have many of his published works available, including his autobiography, which makes for fascinating reading, especially, for example, in regards to his ordination and complete unawareness at the time of the Westminster Confession of Faith and what it teaches (Memoirs, p. 239).

But we also have writings available which critique Finney’s unorthodox views and practices. B.B. Warfield refers to “his Pelagian doctrine of salvation,” for example. Take note of these particular examples:

At Log College Press, we recognize that American Presbyterianism has never been monolithic, and thus we have the goal of representing early American Presbyterianism as it actually appeared, warts and all. That includes persons with views that were unorthodox, racist, feminist, and otherwise out of accord with the Scriptures and the Confession and Catechisms to which we hold. We even have a female “pastor” on the site. There is, we believe, a benefit to being able to accurately study such writings and to quote them fairly and honestly, as — for example — Finney’s reviewers have themselves done.

Log College Press has this to say about the range and diversity of views represented on the site:

Because this site is an historical archive and an educational resource, we do not agree with every opinion or argument expressed in the writings on our site or in our published materials - indeed, the authors on our site contradict one another in many points of theology and practice. However, we trust that our readers will use their discernment in the strength of the Holy Spirit to separate the wheat from the chaff, and so we post and reprint the works by and about 18th-19th century American Presbyterians with the prayer that they will benefit the 21st century church, even if that benefit it to show us what not to believe and how not to live.

We do hope that readers will understand the goals of Log College Press as not an endorsement of views which are wrong and unBiblical, but as an effort to make accessible those writers and writings from the past which are worthy of study and in some cases, rebuttal, but in all cases true to history.