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My dear brother, let God make of you what He will, He will end all with consolation, and shall make glory out of your suffering.

Samuel Rutherford

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Samuel Rutherford
Died: 1661
Died: March 29
Author
Minister
Theologian
Samuel Rutherfoord
Consolation
Dear
Glory
Brother
Shall
Suffering
Ends
Make

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I see Christ's love is so kingly, that it will not abide a marrow it must have a throne all alone in the soul.
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Grace grows best in winter.
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When I look to my guiltiness, I see that my salvation is one of our Saviour's greatest miracles, either in heaven or earth.
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After winter comes the summer. After night comes the dawn. And after every storm, there comes clear, open skies.
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Be not cast down. If ye saw Him who is standing on the shore, holding out His arms to welcome you to land, ye would wade, not only through a sea of wrongs, but through hell itself to be with Him.
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My faith has no bed to sleep upon but omnipotence.
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Consider, it is impossible that your idol sins and you can go to heaven together and that those who will not part with these do not indeed love Christ at the bottom, but only in word and show, which will not do the business.
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They lose nothing who gain Christ.
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When the supreme magistrate will not execute the judgment of the Lord, those who made him supreme magistrate, under God, who have under God, sovereighn liberty to dispose of crowns and kingdoms, are to execute the judgment of the Lord, when wicked men make the law of God of none effect.
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Every day we may see some new thing in Christ. His love hath neither brim nor bottom.
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You must take a house beside the Physician. It will be a miracle if ye be the first sick that Christ hath put away uncured.
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Why should I tremble at the plough of my Lord, that maketh deep furrows on my soul? I know He is no idle husbandman, He purposeth a crop.
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Let your children be as so many flowers, borrowed from God. If the flowers die or wither, thank God for a summer loan of them.
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The great Master Gardener, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, in a wonderful providence, with his own hand, planted me here, where by his grace, in this part of his vineyard, I grow and here I will abide till the great Master of the vineyard think fit to transplant me.
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The secret formula of the saints: When I am in the cellar of affliction, I look for the Lord's choicest wines.
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We are as near to heaven as we are far from self, and far from the love of a sinful world.
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I find my Lord Jesus cometh not in the precise way that I lay wait for Him. He hath a manner of His own. Oh, how high are His ways above my ways
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There is nothing that will make you a Christian indeed, but a taste of the sweetness of Christ.
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The cross of Christ is the sweetest burden that I ever bore it is such a burden as wings are to a bird, or sails to a ship, to carry me forward to my harbor.
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Christ and His cross are not separable in this life, howbeit Christ and His cross part at heaven's door, for there is no house-room for crosses in heaven. One tear, one sigh, one sad heart, one fear, one loss, one thought of trouble cannot find lodging there.
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