American Presbyterian Minister and Religious Writer
Theodore Cuyler, fully Theodore Ledyard Cuyler
American Presbyterian Minister and Religious Writer
Any church which forsakes the regular and uniform for the periodical and spasmodic service of God, is doomed to decay; any church which relies for its spiritual strength and growth entirely upon seasons of "revival," will very soon have no genuine revivals to rely on. Our holy God will not conform His blessings to man's moods and moral caprice. If a church is declining, it may require a "revival" to restore it; but what need was there of its declining?
None but a theology that came out of eternity can carry you and me safely to and through eternity.
As a child walking over a slippery and dangerous path cries out, "Father, I am falling!" and has but a moment to catch his father's hand, so every believer sees hours when only the hand of Jesus comes between him and the abysses of destruction.
Oh, be assured fellow teachers, that there is no time in life so favorable to sound conversion as early childhood.
As long as we work on God's line, He will aid us. When we attempt to work on our own lines, He rebukes us with failure.
Religion's home is in the conscience.—Its watchword is the word "ought."—Its highest joy is in doing God's will.
Blessed be the discipline which makes me reach out my soul's roots into closer union with Jesus! Blessed be the dews of the Spirit which keep my leaf ever green! Blessed be the trials which shake down the ripe, golden fruits from the branches.
Sufficient to each day are the duties to be done and the trials to be endured. God never built a Christian strong enough to carry today's duties and tomorrow's anxieties piled on the top of them.
For a few brief days the orchards are white with blossoms. They soon turn to fruit, or else float away, useless and wasted, upon the idle breeze. So will it be with present feelings. They must be deepened into decision, or be entirely dissipated by delay.
The best days of the church have always been its singing days.
God always has an angel of help for those who are willing to do their duty.
The Bible is full of trees; from the time when Adam and Eve sat under their shadow in Eden, on to that splendid vision of the, New Jerusalem, where the tree of life bears twelve manner of fruits and its leaves are for the healing of the nations. Absalom's oak, and Elijah's juniper, and Jonah's gourd, and the sycamore which hoisted little Zaccheus into notice, are all familiar to every Sunday school scholar. Our Lord hung one of His most solemn parables on the boughs of a barren fig tree, and drew one of His most apt illustrations of the growth of His kingdom from the mustard which becomes tall enough for the birds to nestle in its branches.
God does not give us ready money. He issues promissory notes, and then pays them at the throne. Each one of us has a check-book.
The firmament of the Bible is ablaze with answers to prayer.
God never built a Christian strong enough to carry today's duties and tomorrow's anxieties piled on the top of them.
The Master will not keep His hand under our arms when we go on forbidden ground. Presumptuous Peter needed, a sharp lesson, and he got it. That bitter cry at the foot of the stairs bespoke an awful fall. How many such are rising daily into God's listening ears.
God sometimes washes the eyes of His children with tears in order that they may read aright His providence and His commandments.
To forecast our sorrows is only to increase the suffering without increasing our strength to bear them.—Many of life's noblest enterprises might never have been undertaken if all the difficulties and defects could be foreseen.
I dare not drink for my own sake, I ought not to drink for my neighbor's sake.
We never can create a public sentiment strong enough to suppress the dram-shops until God's people take hold of the temperance reform as a part of their religion.
I have heard of a monk who in his cell had a glorious vision of Jesus revealed to him. Just then a bell rang, which called him away to distribute loaves of bread among the poor beggars at the gate. He was sorely tried as to whether he should lose a scene so inspiring. He went to his act of mercy; and when he came back the vision remained more glorious than ever.
When a miner looks at the rope that is to lower him into the deep mine, he may coolly say, "I have faith in that rope as well made and strong." But when he lays hold of it, and swings down by it into the tremendous chasm, then he is believing on the rope. Then he is trusting himself to the rope. It is not a mere opinion--it is an act. The miner lets go of everything else, and bears his whole weight on those well braided strands of hemp. Now that is faith.
I never knew a child of God being bankrupted by his benevolence. What we keep we may lose, but what we give we are sure to keep.
When we read or hear how some professed Christian has turned defaulter, or lapsed into drunkenness, or slipped from the communion table into open disgrace, it simply means that a human arm has broken. The man has forsaken the everlasting arms.
In our father's house it will not be the pearl gate or the streets of gold that will make us happy. But oh, how transcendently glad shall we be when we see our Lord. Perhaps in that "upper room," also, He may show us His hands and His side, and we may cry out with happy Thomas, "My Lord and my God!"