For my personal Bible reading plan, I have for several years done what is called the M'Cheyne Bible Reading Plan. I have recommended it to many of you.
Robert Murray M'Cheyne was a godly Presbyterian pastor in Scotland (He died in 1843 at about the age of 30). He had a deep love for the Bible and he loved to preach Christ to all he came into contact with, but especially to the children in attendance. He was a convinced paedobaptist, but knew water and covenants didn't save. M'Cheyene knew the work was up to the Holy Spirit in the real-time life of the child. He wrote many letters to the young children in his congregation. Below is one of these gems.
TO J. T., COLLACE, January 27, 1842.
MY DEAR BOY,—
I was very glad to receive your kind note, and am glad to send you a short line in return, although my time is much taken up. You are very dear to me, because your soul is precious; and if you are ever brought to Jesus, washed and justified, you will praise Him more sweetly than an angel of light. I was riding among the snow to - day, where no foot had trodden, and it was pure, pure white; and I thought again and again of that verse: ' Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow! That is a sweet prayer: make it your own. Often go alone and look up to Jesus, who died to wash us from our sins, and say, 'Wash me.' Amelia Geddie was one day dressed in a new white frock, with red ribbons in her bonnet, and some one said to her, ' No doubt you will think yourself very trim and clean ?' ' Ah! no,' she said ; I will never think that until I have the fine white robe of my Redeemer's righteousness put upon me.' I am glad, my dear boy, you think that God is afflicting you to bring you to Himself. It is really for this that He smites you. His heart, His hand, and His rod, are all inscribed with love. But then, see that He does bring you to Himself. Do not delay. The lake of fire and brimstone stretches beneath every soul that lives in sin. ' There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.' If the Lord Jesus would but draw the curtain, and let you see His own fair face, and His wounded side, and how there is room for the guiltiest sinner in Him, you would be drawn to Jesus with the cords of love. I was preaching in Perth last Sabbath. When I came out, a little girl came up to me, I think about three or four years old. She wanted to hear of the way to be saved. Her mother said she had been crying the whole night before about her soul, and would take no comfort till she should find Jesus. Oh! pray that the same Spirit may waken you. Remember, Johnnie, you once wept for your soul too, and prayed and sought Jesus. Have you found Him? or have you looked back, like Lot's wife, and become a hard, cold pillar of salt ? Awake again, and call upon the name of the Lord. Your time may be short, God only knows. The longest lifetime is short enough. It is all that is given you to be converted in. They are the happiest who are brought soonest to the bosom of Jesus.
Write me again. At present I must draw to a close. Give my kindest remembrances to your mamma, and to A. when you write. Tell him to write me. May you all meet at the table of Jesus above; and may I be there too, a sinner saved by grace.—Ever yours, etc.
Robert Murray M'Cheyne was a godly Presbyterian pastor in Scotland (He died in 1843 at about the age of 30). He had a deep love for the Bible and he loved to preach Christ to all he came into contact with, but especially to the children in attendance. He was a convinced paedobaptist, but knew water and covenants didn't save. M'Cheyene knew the work was up to the Holy Spirit in the real-time life of the child. He wrote many letters to the young children in his congregation. Below is one of these gems.
TO J. T., COLLACE, January 27, 1842.
MY DEAR BOY,—
I was very glad to receive your kind note, and am glad to send you a short line in return, although my time is much taken up. You are very dear to me, because your soul is precious; and if you are ever brought to Jesus, washed and justified, you will praise Him more sweetly than an angel of light. I was riding among the snow to - day, where no foot had trodden, and it was pure, pure white; and I thought again and again of that verse: ' Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow! That is a sweet prayer: make it your own. Often go alone and look up to Jesus, who died to wash us from our sins, and say, 'Wash me.' Amelia Geddie was one day dressed in a new white frock, with red ribbons in her bonnet, and some one said to her, ' No doubt you will think yourself very trim and clean ?' ' Ah! no,' she said ; I will never think that until I have the fine white robe of my Redeemer's righteousness put upon me.' I am glad, my dear boy, you think that God is afflicting you to bring you to Himself. It is really for this that He smites you. His heart, His hand, and His rod, are all inscribed with love. But then, see that He does bring you to Himself. Do not delay. The lake of fire and brimstone stretches beneath every soul that lives in sin. ' There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.' If the Lord Jesus would but draw the curtain, and let you see His own fair face, and His wounded side, and how there is room for the guiltiest sinner in Him, you would be drawn to Jesus with the cords of love. I was preaching in Perth last Sabbath. When I came out, a little girl came up to me, I think about three or four years old. She wanted to hear of the way to be saved. Her mother said she had been crying the whole night before about her soul, and would take no comfort till she should find Jesus. Oh! pray that the same Spirit may waken you. Remember, Johnnie, you once wept for your soul too, and prayed and sought Jesus. Have you found Him? or have you looked back, like Lot's wife, and become a hard, cold pillar of salt ? Awake again, and call upon the name of the Lord. Your time may be short, God only knows. The longest lifetime is short enough. It is all that is given you to be converted in. They are the happiest who are brought soonest to the bosom of Jesus.
Write me again. At present I must draw to a close. Give my kindest remembrances to your mamma, and to A. when you write. Tell him to write me. May you all meet at the table of Jesus above; and may I be there too, a sinner saved by grace.—Ever yours, etc.