A word in season – Jesus Christ


Anwoth Old Kirk. Samuel Rutherford was the minister here from 1627 to 1638, Mick Garratt - own work, May 1997, Wikimedia

John 6

35 And Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst. 36 But I said to you that you have seen Me and yet do not believe. 37 All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out. 38 For I have come down from heaven, not to do My own will, but the will of Him who sent Me. 39 This is the will of the Father who sent Me, that of all He has given Me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up at the last day. 40 And this is the will of Him who sent Me, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in Him may have everlasting life; and I will raise him up at the last day.”

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Anwoth Old Kirk, where Samuel Rutherford was minister from 1627 to 1638, Mick Garratt photo, May 1997, Wikimedia.


 

Crying Out to God in Prayer

Take hope and pray! Even our sighs He hears, and “Tears have a tongue, and grammar, and language, that our Father knoweth.”

Purely Presbyterian

crying-out-to-god-in-prayerSamuel Rutherford

The Trial and Triumph of Faith

Sermon VI, pp. 66-73

 And, behold, a woman of Canaan came out of the same coasts, and cried unto him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil. (Mat. 15:22)

In her prayer, as it is expressed by Matthew, we have, 1st, The manner of it: “she cried.” 2nd, The compellation, or party to whom she prayeth: “O, Lord, thou Son of David.” 3rd, The petition: “have mercy upon me.” 4th, The reason: “for my daughter is vexed with a devil.”

“She cried.” The poor woman prayed (as we say) with good will, with a bent of affection. Why is crying used in praying? Had it not been more modesty to speak to this soul-redeeming Saviour, who heareth sometimes before we pray, than to cry out and shout?—for the disciples…

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Quote of the day – Samuel Rutherford

 

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Anwoth Old Kirk. Samuel Rutherford was the minister here from 1627 to 1638, Mick Garratt - own work, May 1997, Wikimedia

Anwoth Old Kirk. Samuel Rutherford was the minister here from 1627 to 1638, Mick Garratt – own work, May 1997, Wikimedia

“It is not for us to set an hourglass to the Creator of time.”

Samuel Rutherford

Source: Christianity.com, Samuel Rutherford’s Lasting Legacy

(Good short article with resources.)

HT: Our Reformed Christian Heritage, Angela Wittman

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Do you have any ideas for putting Rutherford’s words into our everyday English…? Comment if you want to!

Last words – Samuel Rutherford

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Anwoth Old Kirk. Samuel Rutherford was the minister here from 1627 to 1638, Mick Garratt - own work, May 1997, Wikimedia

Anwoth Old Kirk. Samuel Rutherford was the minister here from 1627 to 1638, Mick Garratt – own work, May 1997, Wikimedia

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Last Words

A Poem inspired by the letters and last words of Samuel Rutherford, by Mrs. A. R. Cousin.

Fire and Ice: Puritan and Reformed Writings

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But while the versification is that of Mrs. Cousin, the thoughts contained in it, and most of the peculiar expressions were uttered by Samuel Rutherford himself while he was lying on his death bed, and these telling and intense expressions of the dying saint, with a few others like them were wrought skilfully into the poem…

STEM Publishing : Hymns : Spiritual Songsters : Mrs. Ann Ross Cousin, 1824-1906.

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The sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of Heaven breaks,
The summer morn I’ve sighed for,
The fair sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,
But dayspring is at hand,
And glory—glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 79, 147, 323.
Oh! well it is for ever,
Oh! well for evermore,
My nest hung in no forest
Of all this death-doom’d shore
Yea, let the vain world vanish,
As from the ship the strand,
While glory—glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letter 4.
There the Red Rose of Sharon
Unfolds its heartsome bloom,
And fills the air of Heaven
With ravishing perfume:—
Oh! to behold it blossom,
While by its fragrance fann’d,
Where glory—glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 181, 321.
The King there in His beauty,
Without a veil, is seen:
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between.
The Lamb, with His fair army,
Doth on Mount Zion stand,
And glory—glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 165, 284, 291, 318.
Oh! Christ He is the Fountain,
The deep sweet well of love!
The streams on earth I’ve tasted,
More deep I’ll drink above:
There, to an ocean fulness,
His mercy doth expand,
And glory—glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 288, 317
E’en Anwoth was not heaven—
E’en preaching was not Christ
And in my sea-beat prison
My Lord and I held tryst:
And aye my murkiest storm-cloud
Was by a rainbow spann’d,
Caught from the glory dwelling
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 86, 96, 225, 335.
But that He built a heaven
Of His surpassing love,
A little New Jerusalem,
Like to the one above,—
“Lord, take me o’er the water,”
Had been my loud demand,
“Take me to love’s own country,
Unto Immanuel’s land.”
Letter 233.
But flowers need night’s cool darkness,
The moonlight and the dew;
So Christ, from one who loved it,
His shining oft withdrew;
And then for cause of absence,
My troubled soul I scann’d—
But glory, shadeless, shineth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letter 234.
The little birds of Anwoth
I used to count them blest,—
Now, beside happier altars
I go to build my nest:
O’er these there broods no silence,
No graves around them stand,
For glory, deathless, dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 92, 167, 206.
Fair Anwoth by the Solway,
To me thou still art dear!
E’en from the verge of Heaven
I drop for thee a tear.
Oh! if one soul from Anwoth
Meet me at God’s right hand,
My Heaven will be two Heavens,
In Immanuel’s land.
Letter 225.
I have wrestled on towards Heaven,
‘Gainst storm, and wind, and tide:—
Now, like a weary traveller,
That leaneth on his guide,
Amid the shades of evening,
While sinks life’s ling’ring sand,
I hail the glory dawning
From Immanuel’s land.
Letters 275, 326.
Deep waters cross’d life’s pathway,
The hedge of thorns was sharp
Now these lie all behind me—
Oh! for a well-tuned harp!
Oh! to join Halleluiah
With yon triumphant band,
Who sing, where glory dwelleth,
In Immanuel’s land.
Letter 137.
With mercy and with judgment
My web of time He wove,
And aye the dews of sorrow
Were lustred with His love.
I’ll bless the hand that guided,
I’ll bless the heart that plann’d,
When throned where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 245, 295, 298.
Soon shall the cup of glory
Wash down earth’s bitterest woes,
Soon shall the desert-briar
Break into Eden’s rose:
The curse shall change to blessing—
The name on earth that’s bann’d,
Be graven on the white stone
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 20, 295.
Rev. 2:17
Oh! I am my Belovèds,
And my Beloved is mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner
Into His “House of wine.”
I stand upon His merit,
I know no other stand,
Not e’en where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letters 76, 116, 119, 148.
I shall sleep sound in Jesus,
Fill’d with His likeness rise,
To live and to adore Him,
To see Him with these eyes.
‘Tween me and resurrection
But Paradise doth stand;
Then—then for glory dwelling
In Immanuel’s land!
 
The Bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear Bridegroom’s face
I will not gaze at glory,
But on my King of Grace—
Not at the crown He gifteth,
But on His piercèd hand:—
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel’s land.
Letters 21, 168.
I have borne scorn and hatred,
I have borne wrong and shame,
Earth’s proud ones have reproach’d me,
For Christ’s thrice blessed name:—
Where God His seal set fairest
They’ve stamp’d their foulest brand;
But judgment shines like noonday
In Immanuel’s land.
 
They’ve summoned me before them,
But there I may not come,—
My Lord says, “Come up hither,”
My Lord says, “Welcome Home!”
My kingly King, at His white throne,
My presence doth command,
Where glory—glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
Letter 86 and Deathbed Sayings

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Mrs. Ann Ross Cousin, 1824-1906.

Notes from “Who wrote our Hymns?” by C. Knapp:

Samuel Rutherford, as far as is known, wrote no hymn. “The Last Words of Samuel Rutherford” were written by a Scottish lady named Ann Ross Cousin, and was first published in the Christian Treasury as late as 1857.

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