Remembering Theodore L. Cuyler on His 200th Birthday

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Theodore Ledyard Cuyler was born two hundred years ago today in Aurora, New York on January 10, 1822. He was a graduate of Princeton University (1841) and Princeton Theological Seminary (1846). He served as pastor of the Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church in Brooklyn, New York from 1860 to 1890.

In his ministerial career and lifetime he published many books, and around 4.000 articles in the press. It is has been said that he was the “Dean of the American Pulpit.” He was a world-traveler, and was friends with many notable leaders of the church and society, including Charles H. Spurgeon, William Adams, Eliakim Littell, Richard S. Storrs, Samuel H. Cox, Henry W. Beecher, Archibald Alexander, James W. Alexander, Joseph A. Alexander, Charles G. Finney, Benjamin M. Palmer, James McCosh, Horatius Bonar, Dwight L. Moody, President Benjamin Harrison, President Abraham Lincoln, William Gladstone, Thomas Guthrie, Thomas Binney, Albert Barnes, William B. Sprague, Stephen H. Tyng, and others, many of whom he wrote about in his autobiography, Recollections of a Long Life (1902).

He was noted for inviting the first woman to preach from an American Presbyterian pulpit — Sarah Smiley, a Quaker, in 1872 — while at the same time publicly opposing women's suffrage (see his 1894 pamphlet, “Shall Women Be Burdened With the Ballot?”). Cuyler was also a Unionist, an abolitionist, and a teetotaler.

Source: The American Monthly Review of Reviews, Vol. 25 (Feb. 1902), p. 153.

Perhaps most significantly, Rev. Cuyler lost two infant children, as well as a 22 year-old daughter, and in the midst of his grief, he wrote God’s Light on Dark Clouds (1882), and other books and articles which spoke words of comfort to his readers. Many would say that the experiences he endured gave fruit to a spiritual comfort that only one who had walked through the valley of the shadow of death could comprehend and convey to others.

He died of bronchitis on February 26, 1909, in Brooklyn, New York, at the age of 88, and is buried at Green-Wood Cemetery.

Two centuries after his birth, we remember Rev. Cuyler with great appreciation, and invite our readers to explore his works which are available to read at Log College Press. A very prolific writer, we are still adding his works to the site, but there is much of great value to read even now. Though his name was often in the press of his day, he was a most humble minister of the gospel. A park in Brooklyn is named after him but he declined the erection of a statue in his honor. He once said, "A genuine revival means trimming of personal lamps." When remembering Cuyler, we give glory to the God who called him to the ministry, and we note that Cuyler’s legacy points us, even now, to Beulah-Land.

John Moorhead: Pastor of Boston's Church of the Presbyterian Strangers

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In the midst of the great Puritan Migration to New England (1620-1640), some Scotch-Irish assembled a congregation in Boston, Massachusetts which was known as the ‘Church of the Presbyterian Strangers.’ Its first pastor was the Rev. John Moorhead (1703-1773). He was born in Newton, near Belfast, in County Down, Ireland (Ulster), and educated in Edinburgh, before arriving in Massachusetts.

All accounts indicate that he was a very pious minister, who engaged in family visitation, catechism, and a faithful ministry of the Word. He left a deep impression among his flock and others, and has been noted in various studies of New England Presbyterianism.

It was not until 1730 that a Presbyterian Church was organized in Boston. Under the leadership of the Reverend John Moorhead a congregation known as “The Church of the Presbyterian Strangers” was organized and met in a “converted barn” owned by John Little on Long Lane. In 1735 title to the property was conveyed to the congregation for use by the Presbyterian Society forever “and for no other use, intention, or purpose whatever.” This “converted barn” served the congregation until 1744 when a new edifice was erected. It was in this building in 1788 that action was taken to make Massachusetts a state, in commemoration of which the name Long Lane was changed to Federal Street and the meeting house came to be known as Federal Street Church.

The congregation flourished and by the time their new building was erected numbered more than 250. Mr. Moorhead served the group until his death in December, 1773, following which the church was supplied by itinerant ministers [including David McClure] until 1783 when the Reverend Robert Annan was called to be pastor. Internal strife and opposition from the Puritan oligarchy finally led Mr. Annan to resign in 1786 after which the group voted themselves into a Congregational Society and after 1803 when William Ellery Channing became pastor, they joined the Unitarian fold. Relocating and erecting a new building in 1860 this group became the Arlington Street Church. In similar fashion one by one most of the seventy fairly well established Presbyterian churches of eighteenth century New England went over to other denominations. — Charles N. Pickell, Presbyterianism in New England: The Story of a Mission, pp. 6-7

A memoir of Moorhead written in 1807 says this of the early days of that congregation:

This little colony of Christians, for some time, carried on the public worship of God in a barn, which stood on the lot which they had purchased. In this humble temple, with uplifted hearts and voices, they worshipped and honoured Him, who, for our salvation, condescended to be born in a stable.

This same biographer highlights an important aspect of Moorhead’s ministry - family visitation.

Once or twice in the year, Mr. Moorhead visited all the families of his congregation, in town and country; (one of the Elders, in rotation, accompanying him,) for the purpose of religious instruction. On these occasions, he addressed the heads of families with freedom and affection, and inquired into their spiritual state, catechised and exhorted the children and servants, and concluded his visit with prayer. In this last solemn act, (which he always performed on his knees, at home and in the houses of his people), he used earnestly to pray for the family, and the spiritual circumstances of each member, as they respectively needed.

In addition to this labour of family visitations, he also convened, twice in the year, the families, according to the districts, at the meeting-house, when he conversed with the heads of families, asking them questions, on some of the most important doctrines of the gospel, agreeably to the Westminster confession of faith; and catechised the children and youth.

A young parishioner of Rev. Moorhead, David McClure, who briefly ministered to the flock in Boston after Moorhead’s death, wrote in his journal about this feature of the ministry at the Church of the Presbyterian Strangers.

We had the special advantage of a religious education & government in early life. Our parents gave us the best school education that their circumstances would allow. The children who could walk were obliged to attend public worship on the Sabbath, & spend the interval in learning the Shorter & the Larger Westminster Catechisms, & committing to memory some portion of the Scriptures. My mother commonly heard us repeat the catechisms on Sunday evenings. My parents departed with the supporting hope of salvation through the glorious Redeemer. In her expiring moments my mother gave her blessing & her prayers to each of her children, in order. She had many friends who mourned her death. She was favored with a good degree of health & was very cheerful, active & laborious, in the arduous task of raising, with slender means, a large family. To the labours of our worthy minister the Rev. Mr. Moorhead, we were much indebted for early impressions of religious sentiments. His practice was frequently to catechize the Children & youth at the meeting House & at their homes & converse & pray with them. He also visited & catechized the heads of all the families in his congregation, statedly.

Moorhead is mentioned often in Alexander Blaikie’s History of Presbyterianism in New England (although under the spelling of “Moorehead”). Blaikie writes that Moorhead was ordained on March 30, 1730, and adds that

"This religious society was established by his pious zeal and assiduity."…He was the forty-sixth minister settled in Boston, and "soon after his induction he married Miss Sarah Parsons, an English lady, who survived him about one year."

André Le Mercier, the 37th minister settled in Boston, a French Huguenot Presbyterian, was a colleague of Moorhead’s at this time and is mentioned by Blaikie in this connection.

A letter from Rev. Moorhead [not yet available on Log College Press] was published in Glasgow, Scotland in 1741, which gives an account of conversions associated with the Great Awakening ministries of George Whitefield and Gilbert Tennent.

Portrait of Phillis Wheatley by Scipio Moorhead (1773). It is said to be “the first frontispiece depicting a woman writer in American history, and possibly the first ever portrait of an American woman in the act of writing.”

Portrait of Phillis Wheatley by Scipio Moorhead (1773). It is said to be “the first frontispiece depicting a woman writer in American history, and possibly the first ever portrait of an American woman in the act of writing.”

Moorhead was a slave owner. His slave, Scipio Moorhead, is famous in history for his artistic skill. His portrait of Phillis Wheatley appeared in her Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (1773). Wheatley wrote An Elegy to Miss Mary Moorhead, on the Death of Her Father, the Rev. Mr. John Moorhead in December 1773. Of him she wrote:

With humble Gratitude he render'd Praise,
To Him whose Spirit had inspir'd his Lays;
To Him whose Guidance gave his Words to flow,
Divine Instruction, and the Balm of Wo:
To you his Offspring, and his Church, be given,
A triple Portion of his Thirst for Heaven;
Such was the Prophet; we the Stroke deplore,
Which let's us hear his warning Voice no more.
But cease complaining, hush each murm'ring Tongue,
Pursue the Example which inspires my Song.
Let his Example in your Conduct shine;
Own the afflicting Providence, divine;
So shall bright Periods grace your joyful Days,
And heavenly Anthems swell your Songs of Praise.

The “Presbyterian Strangers” of Boston thought very highly of their pastor. In his funeral sermon [not yet available on Log College Press], by David McGregore, he was described as “an Israelite indeed.” He left an enduring legacy that is reflected in the lives of David McClure and others. Boston is not the city set upon a hill that it once was, although pockets of piety endure. But Moorhead is worthy of remembrance today as a pioneer of New England Presbyterianism.

The story of an Muslim African-American slave who converted to Christ: Omar ibn Said

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Omar ibn Said was born in 1770 in the West African kingdom of Futa Toro (modern-day Senegal). At the age of 27, he was sold into slavery, and ultimately arrived in Charleston, South Carolina, just before the United States banned the importation of slaves. After an attempted escape from his first master, he was eventually purchased by James Owen, who would go on to serve as North Carolina legislator and as President of the Wilmington & Raleigh Railroad. His brother John also served as Governor.

Owen helped Said learn English by obtaining for him a translation of the Koran. He then acquired for Said (with the assistance of John Louis Taylor, Chief Justice of North Carolina, and Francis Scott Key, composer of “The Star-Spangled Banner”) a Arabic translation of the Bible (which is currently held at the Davidson College Library Rare Book Room). It was on December 3, 1820 that Said was converted to Christianity. He soon joined the First Presbyterian Church of Fayetteville, North Carolina.

His 1831 autobiography, The Life of Oman ibn Said, is the only known native-language autobiography by a slave in America. It was written in Arabic and can be read at Log College Press, along with two English translations. It is a short work, and leaves many gaps in his life story, which Said was not inclined to fill over the course of his ninety-four span - “Omar was noted for being obscure and evasive when speaking about his life in Africa.”

Two accounts by notable Presbyterian ministers give great insight into the story of a man who has fascinated so many. William S. Plumer wrote of him for the New York Observer in 1863:

Meroh, A Native African

In the fall of 1826, I went to Wilmington, N.C., to preach a few Sabbaths in the Presbyterian Church. While there I was visited by a venerable man, a native of Africa. He came to the door of my rooms, entered, and approached me. I rose to receive him. He took my hand between both of his, and earnestly pressed it to his bosom. Our interview was not long, but I received very deep impressions of his moral worth.

I have met him once or twice since, but was commonly hindered from learning much respecting him, as he was much more inclined to hear then to speak — to ask questions than to answer them. Yet from him and from others I have learned the following things.

Meroh was born about the year 1770. If he is still living, as he was by my last advices, he is over ninety years of age. He was born on the banks of the Senegal river, in Eastern Africa. His tribe were the Foolahs. Their religion was Mahomedanism. Many of them had the Koran and read and wrote the Arabic language. I have now in my possession a letter written by Meroh in Arabic, bearing all the marks of expert penmanship.

I write his name Meroh. It was originally Umeroh. Some write it Moro; and some put it in the French form, Moreau. It is commonly pronounced as if spelled Moro.

Meroh’s father in Africa was a man of considerable wealth. He brought up his children delicately. Meroh’s fingers are rather effeminate. They are very well tapered. His whole person and gait bear marks of considerable refinement.

At about five years of age he lost his father, in one of those bloody wars that are almost constantly raging in Africa. Very soon thereafter he was taken by an uncle to the capital of the tribe. Here he learned and afterwards taught the Arabic, especially some prayers used by Mahomedans. He also learned some rules of Arithmetic, and many of the forms of business. When a young man he became a dealer in the merchandise of the country, chiefly consisting of cotton cloths. Some years since I saw in some newspaper an account of this man, which I believe to be quite correct. I make an extract: —

“While engaged in trade, some event occurred, which he is very reluctant to refer to, but which resulted in his being sold into slavery. He was brought down to the coast shipped for Africa, in company with only two who could speak the same language, and was landed at Charleston in 1807, just a year previous to the final abolition of the slave trade. He was soon sold to a citizen of Charleston, who treated him with great kindness, but who, unfortunately for Moreau, died in a short time. He was then sold to one who proved to be a harsh cruel master, exacting from him labor which he had not the strength to perform. From him Moreau found means to escape, and after wandering nearly over the State of South Carolina, was found near Fayetteville, in this State [North Carolina]. Here he was taken up as a runaway, and placed in the jail. Knowing nothing of the language as yet, he could not tell who he was, or where he was from, but finding some coals in the ashes, he filled the walls of his rooms with piteous petitions to be released, all written in the Arabic language. The strange characters, so elegantly and correctly written by a runaway slave, soon attracted attention, and many of the citizens of the town visited the jail to see him.

“Through the agency of Mr. Mumford, then sheriff of Cumberland county, the case of Moreau was brought to the notice of Gen. James Owen, of Bladen county, a gentleman well known throughout this Commonwealth, for his public services, and always known as a man of generous and humane impulses. He took Moreau out of jail, becoming security for his forthcoming, if called for, and carried him with him to his plantation in Bladen county. For a long time his wishes were baffled by the meanness and the cupidity of a man who had bought the runaway at a small price from his former master, until at last he was able to obtain legal possession of him, greatly to the joy of Moreau. Since then, for more than forty years, he was been a trusted and indulged servant.

“At the time of his purchase by General Owen, Moreau was a staunch Mahomedan, and, the first year at least, kept the fast of Rhamadan with great strictness. Through the kindness of some friends, an English translation of the Koran was procured for him, and read to him, often with portions of the Bible. Gradually he seemed to show more interest in the Sacred Scriptures, until he finally gave up his faith in Mahomet, and became a believer in Jesus Christ. He was baptized by Rev. Dr. [William Davis] Snodgrass, of the Presbyterian Church, in Fayetteville, and received into the church. Since that time he has been transferred to the Presbyterian church in Wilmington, of which he has long been a consistent and worthy member. There are few Sabbaths in the year in which he is absent from the house of God.

“Uncle Moreau is an Arabic scholar, reading the language with great facility, and translating it with ease. His pronunciation of the Arabic is remarkably fine. An eminent Virginia scholar said, not long since, that he read it more beautifully than any one he ever heard, save a distinguished savant of the University of Halle. His translations are somewhat imperfect, as he never mastered the English language, but they are often very striking. We remember once hearing him read and translate the twenty-third Psalm, and shall never forget the earnestness and fervor which shone in the old man’s countenance, as he read of the gown down into the dark valley, and using his own broken English, said, ‘Me no fear, Master’s with me there.’ There were signs in his countenance, and in his voice, that he knew not only the words, but felt the blessed power of the truth they contained.

“Moreau has never expressed any wish to return to Africa. Indeed, he has always manifested a great aversion to it when proposed, changing the subject as soon as possible. When Dr. Jonas King, now of Greece, returned to this country from the East, he was introduced in Fayetteville to Moreau. Gen. Own observed an evident reluctance on the part of the old man to converse with Dr. King. After some time he ascertained that the only reason of his reluctance was his fear that one who talked so well in Arabic might have been sent by his own countrymen to reclaim him, and carry him again over the sea. After his fears were removed, he conversed with Dr. King with great readiness and delight.

“He now regards his expatriation as a great Providential favor. ‘His coming to this country,’ as he remarked to the writer, ‘was all for good.’ Mahomedanism has been supplanted in his heart by the better faith in Christ Jesus, and in the midst of a Christian family, where he is kindly watched over, and in the midst of a church which honors him for his consistent piety, he is gradually going down to that dark valley, in which, his own firm hope is, that he will be supported and led by the hand of the Great Master, and from which he will emerge into the brightness of the perfect day.”

This pious man is supplied with a copy of the Arabic New Testament. He says the translation is not good. Yet with the aid of the English he has gained much knowledge of God’s Word. His appearance, at any time I have seen him, was striking and venerable. His moral and Christian character are excellent. No one who knew him well doubted that he was preparing for a better world. Perhaps he has already gone to the rest of the redeemed.

Omar had opportunities to return to Africa as a missionary but declined to do so on account of age and health considerations. He did seek to work with the American Colonization Society to promote the spread of the gospel in Africa in other ways. The Secretary of the ACS, R.R. Gurley, wrote about him thus in 1837:

In the respected family of General Owen, of Wilmington, I became acquainted with a native African, whose history and character are exceedingly interesting, and some sketches of whose life have been already published. I allude to Moro or Omora, a Foulah by birth, educated a Mahometan, and who, long after he came in slavery to this country, retained a devoted attachment to the faith of his fathers and deemed a copy of the Koran in Arabic (which language he reads and writes with facility) his richest treasure. About twenty years ago, while scarcely able to express his thoughts intelligibly on any subject in the English language, he fled from a severe master in South Carolina, and on his arrival at Fayetteville, was seized as a runaway slave, and thrown into jail. His peculiar appearance, inability to converse, and particularly the facility with which he was observed to write a strange language attracted much attention, and induced his present humane and Christian master to take him from prison and finally, at his earnest request, to become his purchaser. His gratitude was boundless, and his joy to be imagined only by him, who has himself been relieved from the iron that enters the soul. Since his residence with General Owen he has worn no bonds but those of gratitude and affection.

“Oh, ‘tis a Godlike privilege to save,
And he who scorns it is himself a slave.”

Being of a feeble constitution, Moro’s duties have been of the lightest kind, and he has been treated rather as a friend than a servant. The garden has been to him a place of recreation rather than a toil, and the concern is not that he should labor more but less. The anxious efforts made to instruct him in the doctrines and precepts of our Divine Religion, have not been in vain. He has thrown aside the bloodstained Koran and now worships at the feet of the Prince of Peace. The Bible, of which he has an Arabic copy, is his guide, his comforter, or as he expresses it, “his Life.” Far advanced in years, and very infirm, he is animated in conversation, and when he speaks of God or the affecting truths of the Scriptures, his swarthy features beam with devotion, and his eye is lit up with the hope of immortality. Some of the happiest hours of his life were spent in the society of the Rev. James King, during his last visit from Greece to the United States. With that gentleman he could converse and read the Scriptures in the Arabic language and feel the triumphs of the same all-conquering faith as he chanted with him the praises of the Christian’s God.

Moro is much interested in the plans and progress of the American Colonization Society. He thinks his age and infirmities forbid his return to his own country. His prayer is that the Foulahs and all other Mahomedans may receive the Gospel. When, more than a year ago, a man by the name of Paul, of the Foulah nation and able like himself to understand Arabic, was preparing to embark at New York for Liberia, Moro corresponded with him, and presented him with one of his two copies of the Bible in that language. Extracts from Moro’s letters are before me. In one of them he says “I hear you wish to go back to Africa; if you do go, hold fast to Jesus Christ’s law, and tell all the Brethren, that they may turn to Jesus before it is too late. The Missionaries who go that way to preach to sinners, pay attention to them, I beg you for Christ’s sake. They call all people, rich and poor, white and black, to come and drink of the waters of life freely, without money and without price. I have been in Africa; it is a dark part. I was a follower of Mahomet, went to church, prayed five times a day and did all Mahomet said I must: but the Lord is so good. He opened my way and brought me to this part of the world where I found the light. Jesus Christ is the light, all that believe in him shall be saved, all that believe not shall be lost. The Lord put religion in my heart about ten years ago. I joined the Presbyterian Church, and since that time I have minded Jesus’ laws. I turned away from Mahomet to follow Christ. I don’t ask for long life, for riches, or for great things in this world, all I ask is a seat at Jesus’ feet in Heaven. The Bible, which is the word of God, says sinners must be born again or they can never see God in peace. They must be changed by the Spirit of God. I loved and served the world a long time, but this did not make me happy. God opened my eyes to see the danger I was in. I was like one who stood by the road side and cried Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy; he heard me and did have mercy. ‘God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.’ I am an old sinner, but Jesus is an old Saviour; I am a great sinner, but Jesus is a great Saviour: thank God for it. — If you wish to be happy, lay aside Mahomet’s prayer and use the one which our blessed Saviour taught his disciples — our Father, &c.

In another letter to the same, he writes, “I have every reason to believe that you are a good man, and as such I love as I love myself. I have two Arabic Bibles, procured for me by my good Christian friends, and one of them I will send you the first opportunity; we ought now to wake up, for we have been asleep. God has been good to us in bringing us to this country and placing us in the hands of Christians. Let us now wake up and go to Christ, and he will give us light. God bless the American land! God bless the white people. They send out men every where to hold a crucified Saviour to the dying world. In this they are doing the Lord’s will. My lot is at last a delightful one. From one man to another I went until I fell into the hands of a pious man. He read the Bible for me until my eyes were opened, now I can see; thank God for it. I am dealt with as a child, not as a servant.”

These accounts provide to 21st century readers a look at life as it existed in Africa and in the Southern United States in the early 19th century with all its harshness and yet with the sweet savor of the gospel as it freed the souls of men, if not always their chains. Omar died in 1864 not having received his freedom legally, but the chains which bound his soul had been broken many years hence.

Besides the 19th century original and English manuscript translations of Omar’s remarkable autobiography, there is a 2011 critical English edition, edited by Ala Alryyes, available at our Secondary Sources page.

The life story of a man who was born an African Muslim in the 18th century, who was then sold into slavery and who later became a devoted follower of Jesus Christ in America is a tale that redounds to the glory of God!

A boy learns about his Huguenot heritage: Joseph Caldwell

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Between the Huguenot and Puritan there was no stream to bridge over. They had in their common Calvinism and love of freedom a bond of sympathy and union that brought them into harmony as soon as their tongues had learned to speak a common language. -- Lucian J. Fosdick, “The French Blood in America,” p. 210

Once upon a time — we are told in the autobiography of Joseph Caldwell (1773-1835) — a boy sat down with his maternal grandmother — whose name was Rachel Lovel — and learned about a branch of his family tree. The memory stayed with him as an older man, and the account he gives is worth re-telling today. Thus it begins:

The Edict of Nantes was revoked by Louis XIV about the year 1684. The well known consequence was that 500,000 French Protestants left their country to look after settlements among other nations, and in other parts of the world, where they might enjoy the rights of conscience, and the same immunities and prospects for themselves and their families as were common to other subjects or citizens of the governments under which they should live. One of these emigrant families was that of Lovel. They first passed from France into England, and continued there for some time, in the exercise of manufacturing skill. At that period, the colonies of America, now known as the United States, were fast filling up from different parts of the British empire, and Europe. The head of this Lovel family did not continue very long in the vicinage of London, before he concluded to transplant himself with such capital as he possessed, which, it would seem, was not insignificant, to a spot which he selected on Long Island, towards it western extremity, and not far from Hempsted Plains, and near Oyster Bay. Here he purchased an extensive farm. The land was of good (quality, and being faithfully cultivated, yielded annually an abundance for the necessaries and comforts, and all that was desired beyond these for the enjoyments and respectability of people who classed with the substantial mediocrity of the country. With what total abstraction and absorbing interest did my good old grandmother, when I was a boy of twelve, sit and pass in review through the details of her early years, while she was growing up under the fostering guidance of her venerable parent. He was, it would seem, of mellowed affections and patriarchal habits. I shall give a specimen of one of these conversations:

GRANDMOTHER. My father was considered a man of strong mind. His person was large, his expression tempered of gravity, affection and truth, on which the eye rested with confidence. He was often cheerful in aspect and intercourse, but he was always under the chastening influence of piety. He had learned to understand the doctrines of the gospel through the stern constructions of Puritanism, as it has been distinctively called in England. In France, people of this description went under the name of Huguenots.

GRANDSON. Huguenots! That's a strange name. Why were they called Huguenots? What is the meaning of it? I suppose it is some nickname, by the sound of it.

GRANDMOTHER. It probably was. But I do not know its origin or its meaning. They were persecuted so cruelly that they escaped out of France by thousands, to find subsistence and settlements as they might in other countries. My father and his connexions got to the sea coast and went over into England. They were people of property. Some made purchases of houses in London, where they died without heirs. We were told of this some time afterwards, and might have inherited the property, but my father was either unable or too regardless of the matter to attend to it, and time ran on until by the statute of limitation the claim was barred. Some have said that even now, if the claim could be clearly substantiated and conducted through the forms of kw, a large number of houses once belonging to my uncle might possibly be recovered by our family, and if they could, we should all be rich enough.

At this I remember that my little heart bounded, and I became full of inquiries.

GRANDSON. Well, Grandmother, why cannot that be tried? Is it not worth while? You say it was a vast property, how may houses were there said to be?

GRANDMOTHER. I have heard of a considerable number. My uncle was a bachelor, and is said to have owned a whole side of a square, consisting of valuable buildings.

GRANDSON. Has any attempt ever been made to recover the property? If not, would it not be well to make a trial at least, and, if it should fail, we should but be where we are.

GRANDMOTHER. Yes, my child, if there were anybody to do it. But it would imply a great deal of trouble, and time, and expense, and it has been thought best to give it all up.

This was a. theme on which 1 delighted to dwell, with the fond idea that if all that property could be reclaimed, it would be the consummation of our good fortune.

GRANDMOTHER. After my father's emigration to this country with his family, he brought up his children to the habits of industry, piety, and economy. But though he held the reins of domestic government with a steady hand, a spirit of harmony and affection was constantly diffused through all our feelings. We stood in awe of our father, and feared to transgress, but it was accompanied with such a confidence as to strengthen and deepen our love for him, and was attended with a prompt and willing acquiescence in his wishes. Our mother, too, seemed to look up to him with such deference to his opinions and wishes as showed that she felt him to be her guide and protector as well as the partner of her bosom. One singularity that marked his feelings and opinions was that he never suffered meat to be eaten in his family.

GRANDSON. Not eat meat! That is strange. I never heard of any body that never eat meat. What reason could he have for not eating meat?

GRANDMOTHER. He was wont to tell us that the grant to live upon the flesh of animals was certainly in the scriptures. But he considered it to have been made in consequence of the fall of man. Hence, he deduced that to abstain from it was more in conformity with original innocence and perfection, than was the practice of subsisting upon it. He never permitted an animal to be slaughtered for his own use or that of his family. Ho always had large and luxuriant pastures, kept numbers of cattle and such other animals as could be useful to him upon his own principles, provided plentifully for their sustenance and shelter, had an abundance of milk, butter, cheese and fruits, wheat, corn, and vegetables. In short, all around him, both in the house and in the field, was in the best condition.

GRANDSON. But, if he sold one of these animals to be killed by another person, would not that be much the same thing as killing it himself?

GRANDMOTHER. So he felt, and he never would consent to sell one if he knew it was to be slaughtered. Some animals we keep now without ever thinking of killing them for food, such as horses, dogs, cats. He put all upon the same footing.

GRANDSON. But, Grandmother, you eat meat now, and your family were all brought up to it.

GRANDMOTHER. Yes, but I never tasted it till I was married, at 21 years of age. Your Grandfather had no such opinions and habits, and I fell in with his customs and those of his family. To the present day, however, I care very little for meat. My father and all his family were thought as healthy as any people in the country, and seemed to enjoy themselves as much. We were apt to be esteemed peculiarly happy among our neighbors — always harmonious, plain in our manners, affectionate, looking up to our parents with veneration and love, and prompt acquiescence in their wishes. We were taught to be scrupulous in the economy of time, and to feel unhappy unless we were busy about something useful. We had a family library and were educated to an enlargement of the mind, by reading and improving conversation. My father was careful in directing the habits, dispositions and intelligence of his children. Their ingenuity was continually called out for the accomplishment of such work as was assigned to them. If a difficulty occurred, the answer to an application for aid was, “Now try your skill. Is there no way you can contrive for effecting what you want? The greatest advantage in your doing that, is in finding out the best method." This would interest us in our work, and if we succeeded, we were applauded and encouraged, and this gave us fresh heart for our occupation.

GRANDSON. Why, Grandmother, you seem to have been very happy.

GRANDMOTHER. We were usually so. My father was fond of sacred music. He brought over an organ with him, and kept it in his family. He could play upon it himself and sang well — at least we thought so. Most of my brothers and sisters learned from him in succession as they grew up. At the hour of morning and evening prayers, the family all assembled in the room where it was kept, and united their voices with its elevating tones in praising God. It is the very same organ which your uncle John Level has in his house, and on which you have heard his sisters play, who are now living with him.

Such were the accounts which my kind grandmother would detail to me of old Mr. John Lovel, her father, and his peculiar habits, opinions, and mode of life in his family. It can scarcely be supposed that I am professing to describe these things in the expressions used at the time. In the course of my boyhood, they were renewed at different times. They were subjects on which I delighted to hear her converse, and they made indelible impressions upon me. The circumstances and events have been here given in such terms as have occurred.

In this manner, young Joseph Caldwell learned of his Huguenot heritage. It may be of further interest to learn that this same man went on to become

  • a graduate of the College of New Jersey (Princeton) by the age of 18;

  • a Presbyterian minister of the gospel;

  • Professor of Mathematics, and first President of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill; and

  • builder of the first astronomical observatory used for educational purposes in the United States (1830, Chapel Hill, North Carolina).

Read more of his career and works here, and get to know a Presbyterian pioneer in North Carolina education whose Huguenot heritage was an important early chapter in a fascinating life story.

Read History at Log College Press

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As Robert Pollock Kerr once wrote in the September / October 1892 issue of The Union Seminary Magazine:

Read history; but read it in the light of God; and ever feel that the story as it is told is penned on the pages of time by the overruling hand of the Infinite.

Kerr himself was the author of a history of Presbyterianism, a history of the Scottish Covenanters, and The Voice of God in History. He was deeply concerned that people in his own day developed an understanding not only of that which had gone before, but also that they see the hand of God in His Story. In the latter work, he writes:

Next to the knowledge of God, the best study for mankind is men. History, from one standpoint, is a record of the doings of men, and one learns the philosophy of humanity from the story of the race. From another standpoint, history is the study of God; for the Divine Ruler has not left the world to itself, but is continually acting in it, bringing to pass his great designs. God is sovereign, and man free; and history records the divine and human as they move together in the world. In history, then, man learns God and himself. If this be true, there can be no more profitable study. The Bible itself, the Book of books, is history; yes, history; not naked annals, but lines of events as they stand related to certain great fundamental truths, glowing with the interest which attaches to the joys and sorrows of humanity, over shadowed by an infinite love. Real history is the annals, the truths, and pathos of human existence combined; in other words, it is the world's life lived over again.

This being so, there is a great treasury of historical resources to be found at Log College Press. Our topical pages on Church History, Biographies and Autobiographies contain numerous volumes written by a range of authors.

Most recently, we have added to the site (among other works):

If you are in search of weekend reading material, these and many more works are available to bookmark, download and peruse at Log College Press. To see the hand of God at work in history and in the lives of his saints is a blessing which makes the reading that much sweeter to the Christian who knows that same hand at work in his or her own life. There is so much to read out there, but we have tried to dust off old worthies for the modern reader so that these gems will not remain buried in obscurity. Take advantage of this resource, and see what there is for the student of history to read at Log College Press.

That a New Generation May Read the Old Stories

Mary A. Tennent (1890-1971) was a descendant of William Tennent, Sr., founder of the original Log College in Neshaminy, Pennsylvania. In the introduction to her valuable work Light in Darkness: The Story of William Tennent, Sr. and the Log College (1971), she speaks of reading Elias Boudinot IV’s biography of William Tennent, Jr., and how his words impacted her.

Boudinot began his memoir with these words: “Among the duties every generation owes to those whose example deserves and may invite imitation…and when such men have been remarkably favored of God with an unusual degree of light and knowledge…it becomes the duty of more than ordinary obligation to hand down to posterity the principal events of their lives which if known might edify and benefit the world.” While his words referred to William Tennent, Jr., they were even more applicable to his father William Tennent, Sr., for he not only possessed an unusual degree of light and knowledge but faithfully handed it on to his sons and students in the small but significant school he founded and presided over for nineteen years.
…
On re-reading Boudinot’s memoir of William Tennent, Jr., I was struck with these words: “A neglect of this duty (that of handing down to posterity the events of the lives of those deserving commemoration) even by persons who may be conscious of the want of abilities necessary for the complete biographer, is greatly culpable and no excuse for burying in oblivion that conduct which if known might edify and benefit the world.” Thus encouraged, this work was begun not with any idea of edifying the world, but with the small hope that one or more of his descendants may be inspired to emulate him.

The story of America’s first Log College involves remarkable people who did remarkable things. Many writers at our site and elsewhere have undertaken to tell that story. One such writer was Archibald Alexander, who authored Biographical Sketches of the Founder, and Principal Alumni of the Log College (1845), in which he stated:

If I were fond of projects, I would propose that a monument be erected to the founder of the Log College on the very site where the building stood, if the land could be purchased; but at any rate a stone with an inscription might be permanently fixed on or near the ground. The tradition respecting this humble institution of learning exists, not only in the neighbourhood, but has been extended far to the south and west.

A bicentennial stone monument was indeed established at the appropriate site in Warminster, Pennsylvania in 1927, which tells of the legacy of the Log College. The Log College story is not just about the Tennent family, or even the College of New Jersey (Princeton) - the original Log College is the birthplace of something and represents, in the words of Thomas Murphy, “the cradle of the Presbyterian Church in America.” Now here in 2019, by republishing early American Presbyterian literature, and by making known the stories of early America’s Presbyterian leaders in the digital age, Log College Press is working to ensure that a new generation can learn about the hand of God at work in the history of his church. The Log College story has extended far and wide, beyond boundaries imagined by Archibald Alexander, and we are pleased to be a part of those who make it known today.

Read our authors and our biographies and autobigraphies, study church history, and peruse our other topical pages, as well as the new Log College Review. And be sure to explore our bookstore and secondary sources page for many more resources. The story of the cradle of the American Presbyterian Church is a story for the ages, including our own.

The Gift of Men

"Among the great gifts that God has given to men is the gift of men; and among all the gifts with which God has enriched His church, one of the greatest has been the gift of consecrated men, for they are the instrumentalities by which the church has been moulded and prospered in all the generations of the world." -- Moses Drury Hoge, Memorial Sermon for John Albert Broadus

With this thought in mind, be sure to check out the Biographies and Autobiographies and Funeral Discourses pages at Log College Press to read the stories of some godly, amazing and inspiring men, women and children.