Recollections of a Long Life: An Autobiography

by Theodore L. Cuyler

Ministers had some advantages sixty or seventy years ago over their successors of our day. They had a more uninterrupted opportunity for the preparation of their sermons and for thorough personal visitation of their flocks. They were not importuned so often to serve on committees and to be participants in all sorts of social schemes of charity. Every pastor ought to keep abreast of reformatory movements as long as they do not trench upon the vital and imperative duties of his high calling. "This one thing I do," said single-hearted Paul; and if Paul were a pastor now in New York or Boston or Chicago, he would make short work of many an intrusive rap of a time-killer at his study door.

I have noted frankly a few of the changes that I have observed in the methods of our American pulpit during my long life, but not, I trust, in a pessimistic or censorious spirit God forbid that I should disparage the noble, conscientious, self-denying and Heaven-blessed labors of thousands of Christ's ministers in our broad land! They have greater difficulties to encounter than I had when I began my work. They are surrounded with an atmosphere of intense materialism. The ambition for the "seen things" increasingly blinds men to the "things that are unseen and eternal." Wealth and worldliness unspiritualize thousands of professed Christians. The present artificial arrangements of society antagonize devotional meetings and special efforts to promote revivals. On Sabbath mornings many a minister has to shovel out scores of his congregation from under the drifts (not very clean snow either) of the mammoth Sunday newspapers.

The zealous pastor of to-day has to contend with the lowered popular faith in the authority of God's Word; with the lowered reverence for God's day and a diminished habit of attending upon God's worship. Do these increased difficulties demand a new Gospel? No; but rather a mightier faith in the one we have. Do they demand new doctrines? No; but more power in preaching the truths that have outlived nineteen centuries. Do we need a new revelation of Jesus Christ? Yes, yes, in the fuller manifestation of Him; in the more loving, courageous and consecrated lives of His followers. Do we need a new Baptism of the Holy Spirit? Verily we do need it; and then our pulpits will be clothed with power, and our preachers will have tongues of fire, and every change will be a change for the better advancement and enlargement of the Kingdom of our adorable Lord.

CHAPTER VII

MY EXPERIENCE IN REVIVALS.

I have always counted it a matter for thankfulness that I made my preparation for the ministry at Princeton Theological Seminary. The period that I spent there, from September, 1843, to May, 1846, was a golden period in its history. The venerable Archibald Alexander, wonderfully endowed with sagacity and spiritual insight, instructed us in the duties of the preacher and the pastor. Dr. Charles Hodge, the king of Presbyterian theologians, was in the prime of his power. His teachings have since been embodied in his masterful volume on "Systematic Theology." Dr. Joseph Addison Alexander, who, Dr. Hodge said, was, taking him all in all, "the most gifted man with whom I was ever personally acquainted," was in the chair of Hebrew and Old Testament literature. Urbane, old Dr. Samuel Miller, was the Professor of Ecclesiastical History. Those wise men taught us not only to think, but to believe. All education is atmospheric, and the atmosphere of Princeton Seminary was deeply and sweetly Evangelical. At five o'clock on the morning after I received my diploma, I was off for Wyoming Valley in Pennsylvania, the Arcadian spot made famous in the volume of Campbell's "Gertrude of Wyoming." I spent five months there supplying the pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Mitchell, who was absent to recruit his health. In the Autumn I received an invitation to take charge of the Presbyterian Church of Burlington, N.J., founded by the princely and philanthropic Dr. Cortland Van Rensellaer, son of the Patroon at Albany. It was the very place for a young preacher to begin his work. The congregation was small, and, therefore, I obtained an opportunity to study individual character. It was a very difficult field of labor, and it is good for a minister to bear the yoke in his youth. My work at first was attended with many discouragements. I preached as pungently as I was able, but no visible results seemed to follow. One day the wife of one of my two church elders came to me in my study, and told me that her son had been awakened by the faithful talk of a young Christian girl, who had brought some work to her husband's shoe store. I said to the elder's wife: "The Holy Spirit is evidently working on one soul—let us have a prayer meeting at your house to-night." We spent the afternoon in gathering our small congregation together, and when I got to her house it was packed to the door. I have attended thousands of prayer meetings since then, but never one that had a more distinct resemblance to the Pentecostal gathering in "the upper room" at Jerusalem. The atmosphere seemed to be charged with a divine electricity that affected almost every one in the house. Three times over I closed the meeting with a benediction, but it began again, and the people lingered until a very late hour, melted together by "a baptism of fire." That wonderful meeting was followed by special services every night, and the Holy Spirit descended with great power. My little church was doubled in numbers, and I learned more practical theology in a month than any seminary could teach me in a year.

That revival was an illustration of the truth that a good work of grace often begins with the personal effort of one or two individuals. The Burlington awakening began with the little girl and the elder's wife. We ministers must never despise or neglect "the day of small things."

Every pastor ought to be constantly on the watch, with open eye and ear, for the first signs of an especial manifestation of the Spirit's presence. Elijah, on Carmel, did not only pray; he kept his eyes open to see the rising cloud. The moment that there is a manifestation of the Spirit's presence, it must be followed up promptly. For example, during my pastorate in the Market Street Church, New York, (from 1853 to 1860), I was out one afternoon making calls, and I discovered that in two or three families there were anxious seekers for salvation. I immediately called together the officers of the church, stated to them my observations, instituted a series of meetings for almost every evening, followed them with conversation with enquirers, and a large ingathering of souls rewarded our efforts and prayers. I have no doubt that very often a spark of divine influence is allowed to die for want of being fanned by prayer and prompt labors, whereas, it is sometimes dashed out, as by a bucket of cold water thrown on by inconsistent or quarrelsome church members. It was to Christians that St. Paul sent the message, "Quench not the Spirit."

In 1858 there began a marvelous work of grace, which extended not only throughout the churches in New York, but throughout the whole country. The flame was kindled at the beginning of the year in a noon-day prayer meeting, instituted by that single-eyed servant of Christ, Jeremiah C. Lamphier, who had once been a singer in the choir of my church. The flame thus kindled in that meeting soon extended to my church in Market Street, and presently spread over the whole city. The special feature of the revival of 1858 was the noon-day prayer meeting. It was my privilege to conduct the first noon meeting in Burton's old theatre in Chambers Street, and in a few days after, a similar one in the Collegiate Church in Ninth Street, and also the first prayer meeting in a warehouse at the lower end of Broadway. It is not too much to say that often there were not less than 8,000 to 10,000 of God's people, who came together at the noon-tide hour with the spirit of supplication and prayer. The flame, having spread over the city, then leaped to Philadelphia, and Jayne's Hall, on Chestnut Street, was thronged by an immense number of people, led by George H. Stuart. And so it went on from town to town, and from city to city, over the length and breadth of our land. The revival crossed the ocean and extended to Ireland. On a visit to Belfast I saw handbills on the streets calling the people to noon-day gatherings.

I began my ministry in Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church, Brooklyn, as its first pastor, in April, 1860. From the start I struck for souls; and when our new edifice was dedicated we were under a refreshing shower of the Divine Spirit. Six years after my installation as pastor, God blessed us with an extraordinary downpour. The first drops were followed by an abundance of rain. That revival began where revivals often begin,—in the prayer meeting. It was on the evening of the 8th of January, the first evening of the "week of prayer," which is generally observed over the land. The meeting was held under the direction of our Young People's Association,—that same body of young Christian workers which gave the Rev Francis E. Clark both the inspiration and practical hints for the formation of his first society of Christian Endeavor. What a fearful bitter night was that 8th of January! Through that stinging Arctic atmosphere came a goodly number with hearts on fire with the love of Jesus. The prayers that night were well aimed; and a man, who afterwards became a useful officer of the church, was converted on the spot. On the Friday evening of that week our lecture-room was packed, and when the elder requested that any who desired special prayer should rise, two very prominent men in this community were on their feet in an instant. The meeting was electrified; every one saw that God was with us. There was no extraordinary excitement; the feeling was too deep for that. We felt as the ancient Hebrew prophet felt when he heard the "still small voice from heaven," and went out ready for action. I felt at once that a great work for Christ had commenced. I called our officers together at once, and, to use the naval phrase, we "cleared the decks for action." As the good work had begun in our own church, without any external assistance, we determined to carry on the work ourselves; and during the next five months, I never had any pulpit help except on two evenings during the week, when two fervid, discreet neighboring pastors preached for me. Commonly, every church should do its own spiritual harvesting—just as much as every pair of young lovers should do their own love-making, and wise parents their own family training. Looking outside is a temptation to shirk responsibility. If a preacher can preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ faithfully, and the Lord God is with him, why rob him of the joy of the harvest by sending away for any stranger?