{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_30609/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_30609","id":"gutenberg_30609","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30609","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Teaching & Education","Preaching"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n_THE FOURTEENTH HARTLEY LECTURE:_\n\n\n\n\nThe Message\n\nand the Man:\n\n\n\nSome Essentials of Effective Preaching\n\n\n\nBY\n\nJ. DODD JACKSON.\n\n\n\n\nSECOND EDITION.\n\n\n\n\nLONDON:\n\nW. A. HAMMOND,\n\nPRIMITIVE METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE,\n\nHOLBORN HALL, CLERKENWELL ROAD, B.C.\n\n1912.\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nTHE MEMORY\n\nOF\n\nThe Rev. James Jackson\n\nA PRIMITIVE METHODIST PREACHER\n\nFOR FIFTY-FIVE YEARS\n\nAND\n\nPRESIDENT OF THE CONFERENCE\n\nof\n\n1897\n\nTHIS BOOK IS\n\nAFFECTIONATELY AND REVERENTLY\n\nDEDICATED\n\nBY\n\nHIS SON.\n\n\n  \"'A WORKMAN' NEEDING 'NOT TO BE ASHAMED,\n  RIGHTLY DIVIDING THE WORD OF TRUTH.'\"\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nIt would be strange, indeed, if in the procession of annual volumes of\nwhich this lecture is an unit, there did not arrive a book about\npreaching.  The work of the preacher holds so large a place in the\nservice and worship of God; it is, to all appearance, so essential to\nthe accomplishment of the purposes of the Redeemer; its content and\nquality mean so much to the life and health of the Church; it has\nplayed--and is destined to play--so great a part in the saving of\nmankind, that, sooner or later, it was bound to come within the purview\nof this lectureship.\n\nNow that, at last, the inevitable has happened, it may be said that the\nfollowing pages have been written under the conviction that one of the\ngreatest needs of the present day is a _pulpit revival_--a revival\nwhich will issue in a new endeavour to realise the highest\npossibilities of the divinest of callings.  Many of late years have\nwandered from the fold of the Church; mighty is the multitude of those\nwho have never been within her fellowship.  The author is more than\nconvinced that any attempt to claim and reclaim must, to be successful\non a large scale, commence in a renaissance of Gospel preaching.  With\nthe preacher, more than with the ecclesiastic or the musician or the\ntheologian, not to mention the Biblical critic and the religio-social\nworker, rests the task of solving the great problem of twentieth\ncentury Christianity.  This problem is neither a critical nor a\ntheological one, but simply that of the age-long campaign:--How shall\nwe so commend the Christ as to draw the world to His feet?\n\nTo this avowal, the writer would venture to add a brief personal\nexplanation.  Strongly convinced, though he is, of the soundness of the\nview expressed above, he did not enter willingly upon the task of this\nbook.  His brother preachers will know what it is to be captured by a\ntext which comes uninvited and persistently demands to be preached\nupon.  How often such an arrest finds its subject unwilling, doubtful\nof his powers, afraid to be obedient to the unsought command!  So came\nthe subject of this essay to the writer thereof.  For long he tried\nstrenuously, though vainly, to make his escape to the refuge of some\nother topic wherein he might, less daringly, discharge the\nresponsibilities of this lectureship.  He disclaims, therefore, any\npresumption of which he may be accused in attempting an enterprise\nwhich some may think is outside his province or beyond his powers.\nThis book embodies not a challenge, but a surrender!\n\nOne word more may be allowed.  Surely, no one will need to be told that\nthe \"Hartley Lecture\" is delivered under the auspices of the Primitive\nMethodist Church, or that its delivery is included in the programme of\nits Annual Conference.  This will explain why the reader will find,\nhere and there, in the chapters here assembled, certain denominational\nallusions of a historic and biographical character.  Primitive\nMethodists will readily understand them and, we hope, discover that\nthey add force to argument--strength to appeal.  Readers of other\ndenominations will not find that the meaning of the writer is obscured\nby any one of these references.  As for the principles sought to be\ncommended and emphasised, any application they may have is not limited\nby denominational boundaries.\n\nLONDON,\n  _June 1st_, 1912.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nBOOK I.\n\nTHE MAN.\n\n  Chapter I.  The Designation of the Preacher\n     \"   II.  Things to be Realised\n     \"  III.  The Need for Certainty\n     \"   IV.  Individuality\n     \"    V.  Concerning \"Understanding\"\n     \"   VI.  Passion\n\n\nBOOK II.\n\nTHE MESSAGE:--ITS ESSENTIAL NOTES.\n\n  Chapter I.  The Note of Accusation\n     \"   II.  The Note of Pity\n     \"  III.  The Note of Idealism\n     \"   IV.  The Note of Edification\n     \"    V.  The Note of Cheer\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\nTHE MESSAGE:--ITS FORM AND DELIVERANCE.\n\n  Chapter I.  On Attractiveness\n     \"   II.  On Transparency\n     \"  III.  On Appeal\n\n\nCONCLUSION\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\n\"There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God,\nthe holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High.\"--_Psalms_.\n\n\"Then said he unto me, These waters issue out toward the east country\nand go down into the desert.\"\n\n\"And by the river upon the bank thereof, on this side and on that side,\nshall grow all trees for meat, whose leaf shall not fade, neither shall\nthe fruit thereof be consumed: it shall bring forth new fruit according\nto the months, because their waters they issued out of the sanctuary;\nand the fruit thereof shall be for meat, and the leaf thereof for\nmedicine.\"--_Ezekiel_.\n\n\"But the water is nought, and the _ground barren_.\"--2 _Kings_.\n\n\n\nTHE MESSAGE AND THE MAN\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nAmong the many problems of a problem-ridden time the most important, as\nit is the most difficult, is that of the apparent arrest which has\nbefallen the progress of Protestant Christianity in this and other\nlands.  For a long period now, we have heard from the various churches\nan annually repeated story of decreases in membership, in\ncongregations, in Sunday School scholars.  We have been told, also, of\na general decay of reverence for sacred things, of a growth of\nfrivolity, a surrender of high ideals and of old faiths to the spirit\nof materialism which more and more, so it is said, dominates the age.\nThat Sabbath of our youth; that attachment by families to the sanctuary\nwhich was so marked a feature of our national life; that fine old\nEnglish home life and filial piety; that deep communal consciousness of\nGod which, whether it produced personal profession of religion or not,\ndid at least create a sense of the seriousness of life and duty and so\nmake our people strong to labour and endure--these things, we are\ninformed, will soon be no more.  Regarding the situation, all\nthoughtful men are concerned and some are panic stricken.  The account\ngiven by the latter is to the effect that religion is losing its hold;\nthat the Church is being left high and dry; that the morality of\nclasses and masses alike shows darker signs of degeneration with the\ncoming of each succeeding day.\n\nNow, we are of those who, while trying to look facts in the face,\nendeavour, also, not to see double and to keep heart of hope.  It is\neasy to make too much of statistics, and _very_ easy, in a moment of\ndepression, to come to conclusions concerning the state of the Church,\nand the life of the world, which a day of brighter and truer mood will\ngreatly modify.  There is no cause for either panic or pessimism, but\nthere is cause for the asking of questions as to reasons for the\ncondition of things, for the making of suggestions for their\nimprovement.\n\nAnd of such questions, many have been asked, questions relating to the\nChurch, her methods, her teaching, her attitude to the world around\nher, to great social and moral issues.  Of suggestions, too, there have\nbeen many, and many of them have been seriously received and adopted as\nthe starting points of changes and modifications, the purpose of which\nhas been to stay the progress of alleged decline in this field or in\nthat.  Beyond all admiration, has been the willingness to make\nsacrifices and put forth efforts to win back the wanderer to the fold\nwhich have been exhibited by those to whom changes are not always the\nmost agreeable things in the world.  The unfortunate thing is that,\nnotwithstanding all that has been done, it cannot be claimed that the\nproblem has been solved.\n\nNow, it is a recognition of this problem, and of the fact that all\nefforts so far made to find a solution and devise a remedy have failed\nto meet with the success which had been hoped for, that has determined\nour choice of a subject for this--the fourteenth Hartley Lecture.  Can\nit be possible, that in some degree, the preaching of the preachers has\nbeen to blame for the things we mourn?\n\nFrom America we hear of a new profession which has been called into\nexistence as a result of the fierce competition of industrial and\ncommercial life.  It is the profession of \"the business doctor,\" and\nalready the idea has been justified.  All is not well, perhaps, with\nsome great firm; rivals are getting ahead; profits are declining, and\n\"the business doctor\" is called in to investigate and prescribe.  He\ngoes from department to department, considering the methods pursued,\nchecking the expenditure on this, on that, on the other.  He interviews\nthe partners, the managers, the men down through the various grades;\nthe books are open to him.  He presents his diagnosis and writes his\nprescription.  The \"business doctor\" has been at work in the\nchurches--in _our_ Church.  He has looked into many things.  He has\nmade some suggestions.  They have not all been foolish, but, as yet, he\nhas not quite hit upon the very thing.  He has, however, not altogether\nfinished his work.  Why should he not come into the preacher's\ndepartment, into the pulpit, into the study?  Why should he not be\npermitted to read some of those treasured manuscripts which have\nbeen--shall we say the joy, or shall we say the discipline?--of so many\ncongregations?  Why should he not be allowed to bring paper and pencil,\nand, ensconced in a pew commanding full view of the rostrum, write down\nthe thing that is true about the part _we_ take in the work of saving\nthe world?  Perhaps he may find that all is well.  Perhaps he may find\nthat all is not quite well.  If _this_ should be the case, how\nimportant that we should know it.  Discovery is often the starting\npoint of improvement.\n\nThat, in view of the situation referred to, we should, each of us for\nhimself, _consider his preaching_, is the suggestion we would make to\nevery preaching reader of the pages to follow.  We leave the figure of\nthe \"business doctor,\" for every illustration is of limited usefulness,\nwhich is a good thing to learn.  There is but one authority capable of\nconducting this inquiry in such a way as inevitably to make discovery\nof the real truth.  That authority is surely the preacher's own\nconscience as taught, illuminated and guided by the Holy Spirit.  At\nonce we make a confession:--This lecture raises a question, but does\nnot presume to answer it.  We will be satisfied to set men asking and\nanswering for themselves.  Here is the inquiry:--_Am I, as a preacher,\nin any way to blame for the decline in Church prosperity, for the lack\nof conversions, for such signs and results of spiritual indifference as\nare to be seen on every hand_?  This question may pave the way for\nothers:--Is there anything amiss with the substance of my preaching,\nwith its methods, with its spirit?  If there be weakness here or there;\nif it lack the true note; if it have lost strength to grip, sharpness\nto probe, power to heal; if, in short, it lacks aught of being the\nmeans of grace it was designed to be, can it be brought, once more, on\nto the right lines?  Our words may be as a river refreshing the Church\nof God, and flowing out through the portals of the sanctuary, bearing\nfertility and healing to the world; they may, again, from loss of\nvirtue, fail to enrich the waiting land.  There will be living trees by\nthe living stream.  There will be barrenness where \"the water is\nnought\"!\n\nFor preaching _has_ been effective and the story thereof is a story\nfull of glory.  Within the single century of our own church history\nwhat wonderful things have been done by the ministry of the Word.  It\nmust never be forgotten by those of our fellowship that the Primitive\nMethodist Church owes its existence to a revival of preaching.  Our\nfounders were not seceders; they were preachers.  They searched the\nScriptures not to find passages to hurl at theological antagonists, or\nso-called ecclesiastical tyrants, but to find texts for sermons to save\nsinners, build up saints and glorify the Saviour whom they loved better\nthan their own lives.  These sermons they preached under the open\nceiling of the skies in Summer's heat, and Autumn's storms, and\nWinter's snow.  England had been waiting for just such preaching as\nthese rugged men came forth in God's name to deliver, and the common\npeople heard them gladly.  Immediately succeeding our actual founders\ncame a race of preachers who carried the glad tidings East, West, North\nand South, along the highways and byeways of England, gathering in the\nlost and folding the gathered.  Some of them, we remember, and could\nmention them name by name but that the list is very long, and we would\ninsist upon lingering to speak of deeds as names came forth.  We must\nrecall their triumphs, for the inspiration we will need as we pursue\nthe task before us now.\n\nAnother thing that must never be forgotten is that, as our Church was\nfounded by preaching, and has been built up by preaching, by preaching\nwill it be upheld and increased, or not at all.  We are forward to\nrecognise the immense importance of other branches of service and the\ngreat part they have played in our wondrous past.  The pastor carrying\nthe message of salvation and consolation to the homes of the fallen and\nstricken; the teacher gathering the little ones around him Sabbath by\nSabbath; the tract distributor, now, alas! too seldom seen about his\nwork, but of great usefulness in earlier days--these and a score of\ndifferently named toilers have laboured in the uprearing of this city\nof the Lord.  But ever the preacher has been the leader of them\nall--the pioneer, the quarryman, the inspirer.  The pulpit has been\never the place of direction and, still more truly, of encouragement.\nThe Church has increased with the increase of the Preacher.  Shall we\nventure to prophesy?  With his decrease shall come the decrease of the\nChurch.  No Church has ever flourished in which the power of the pulpit\nhas declined.  Primitive Methodism cannot afford to underestimate the\nimportance of preaching.  _Her very life is in it_!\n\nSo the subject of preaching is of first importance.  This must be\nrecognised by the preacher, but not by him alone.  It must be\nrecognised by the Church as well.  The preacher is prone to put upon\nthe place and work of his pulpit much the same estimate as is put upon\nthem by his people.  There is one Church in this land in which the\npeople think little of preaching.  In some great sanctuaries of that\nChurch it is a common occurrence for the congregation to leave the\nbuilding as the liturgical portion of the service comes to an end and\nthe preacher takes his place.  The preaching in that body, although it\nhas among its ministers men who are among the pulpit princes of the\nage, is speaking generally, a sorrow to all who long for the coming of\nthe Kingdom of God.  \"Like priest, like people,\" we sometimes say.  We\nmight say with almost equal truth, \"Like people, like preacher.\"  Are\nthere no signs of such a belittling of preaching in our congregations\nas may have the effect of lowering the preacher's ideals of his\nlabours, or, at least, of damping his enthusiasm and spoiling the joy\nwith which his heart should always run over?  Do we never hear it said\nthat \"it does not so much matter in _our_ circuit whether we have a\npreacher or not\"?  Have we never been told that really the man most\nneeded is \"a visitor,\" or \"an organiser,\" or \"someone who can raise the\nwind\"?  \"We want a sociable man,\" says the steward of one station.  \"We\nwant a public man who will make his mark on the civic and political\nlife of the town,\" say the brethren of another.  We recognise that the\ngifts of men differ.  We see that each, in his own order, may serve and\nbuild up the Kingdom of God, but to rank the business of preaching as\nsecond to any form of service; to care less for the pulpit than for the\nclass-room, the social, the entertainment, the bazaar, is a fatal\nmistake.  You may make the Church a successful business concern, an\ninteresting and delightful social circle; you may make it a pleasant\nand intellectual society whither cultured people may resort for new\nideas as to an exchange.  All this you may do and care little\nconcerning the preacher; but you can only make a strong Church rich in\nspiritual grace and knowledge and usefulness and power by fostering,\nwith a care amounting to jealousy, the preaching of the Gospel of the\ngrace of God.  If, therefore, out of the problem we have named, there\narises a question to be asked by the preacher concerning his preaching,\nthere also arises, just as certainly, a question for the Church.  It is\na question as to whether preaching has always been allowed its chance\namongst us, whether we have helped the preacher to realise his best\npossibilities by requiring them from him with an affectionate but\nstrong insistence.  There may even be another question:--Whether we\nhave not sometimes actually discouraged the true preacher and sent him\nsorrowing away, because, forsooth, it has happened that in his devotion\nto the great work of his calling, he has seemed to underestimate the\nimportance of some activities we held to be within his duty.  No man\ncan be master in everything; which is one of the lessons sorely needing\nto be learned by us all.  There have been preachers, mighty in word and\ndoctrine, whose hearts have been broken because of the blame thrown\nupon them for failing to prove themselves equally skilful as financial\nagents.  Let the Church look well to this matter.  Her preachers will\nprobably be as great, as effective, as successful as she requires and\nencourages them to be!\n\nAll this, however, is by the way, though of such moment that we might\nwell linger to lay emphasis upon emphasis.  For the present we are\nconcerned more with the preacher than with his congregation.  The\nquestion we desire to put into his heart has already been indicated.\nThe inquiry is suggested for the use, not of one order of preachers but\nof all.  In the denomination to which we belong only one preacher in\neighteen is what is termed a minister.  The question is proposed, not\nonly for the exercising of this one brother, but of the other seventeen\nas well.  It has been intimated to us that a book on this subject\n\"might be of special use to our young men.\"  Glad shall we be if this\nprove to be the case!  But not among the younger preachers alone do we\nseek to initiate this searching self-examination.  Possibly it may be\neven less needful to them than to the more mature.  The most dangerous\ndays of the preacher's career are, after all, not its earliest.  In the\nenthusiasm which, almost always, attends his launching forth into the\nwork there is an element of salvation from some of the perils through\nwhich he may lose his strength in years when, perhaps, that enthusiasm\nmay have passed with the novelty which now gives glamour to his tasks.\nThen there is still another class whose consideration we would solicit\nfor what we may have to say.  We refer to those--and they are many--to\nwhom, as yet, preaching is but an ambition, a dream, a prayer.  Some\nday they hope to stand before others, as now others stand before them,\nto speak forth for Christ's sake the story which has so often warmed\ntheir hearts.  It is a glorious ambition; the human breast can contain\nno higher.  Will such as cherish it join with us in thinking of these\nthings?  In order to arrive at the true answer to the questions\nproposed we shall need to look in various directions.  As a beginning,\nwe must, each one of us, go faithfully over his own record, tabulating\nresults so far as they can be ascertained.  We are quite willing to\nadmit that some of the finest consequences of preaching may not be\nknown to the preacher, but there is always material for an estimate as\nto the measure of success or of failure, which has attended his\nefforts.  Let us, therefore, go back through the years, back along the\npath of bygone Sabbaths.  Confession?  No!  For that we do not ask.\nOur discoveries may well rest between ourselves and God.\n\nLet us make comparisons, too, however odious comparisons may be.  Other\nmen are set within our view.  There are preachers--thank God!--to whom,\neven in these days, success is richly given.  It may be one of God's\npurposes that they shall be considered as examples proving the high\npossibilities of the holy ministry when tuned to its highest notes.\nLet us relentlessly bring our work into comparison with theirs.  \"If\n_he_ succeeds, why do not I?\"  The results of such a measurement may be\ndisappointing, disquieting, humiliating, but the path to the best has\noften a first mile of painful self-discoveries.\n\nThen there were the former days of our own ministries and the ideals\nwhich in those days we cherished and have never forgotten.  Let us\nbring out present selves alongside of what we were; let us put the work\nof to-day alongside of the work of that far-off time; let us compare\nthe dream with the fulfilment thereof.  Have passing years dimmed our\nardour?  Have they chilled our love?  Have we gathered pulpit powers,\nor lost them, as the days have flown over our heads?  There is\nsomewhere a story of a man who, on his fiftieth birthday, received a\ncall from his own beardless self of thirty years before, and, when he\ngazed upon his strange guest, he wept for what his visitor must see.\nCan it be true that in point of effectiveness and real success some of\nus were better preachers in youth than we are now after years of study,\nof experience, of opportunity to wax greater in every way?\n\nThere is still another test.  Here are human sin, human sorrow.  Here\nare the perplexity of the perplexed, the fear of the fearful.  Here\nRachel weeps for her children.  Here the widow and the fatherless cry\naloud.  Here are misery, crime, despair.  The whole world is full of\nhunger and thirst, of grief and wretchedness, of shame and remorse.\nLet us bring our preaching into comparison with these!\n\nAbove all other means of coming to the truth, let us take our preaching\nback to Him who sent us forth.  Let us, in His company, walk once more\nthe roads of Judea; with Him let us stand on the shores of Galilee, the\nslopes of Olivet, the pavements of Zion, the heights of Calvary.  Let\nus listen to _His_ preaching and in His presence let us think of _ours_.\n\nSo let us follow the matter to the end, painful though that end may be.\nIt is needful that we do indeed learn the very truth; needful for the\nsake of _the Church_.  She needs the Gospel for herself.  She must eat\nif she would live.  The times are times of hardness for the flock of\nGod.  It is necessary that a table be prepared in the wilderness.  The\nChurch needs preaching, needs the inspiration of beholding the\npreachers' victories.  Nothing strengthens an army like a triumph.  The\nconquests of the preacher are the salvation of the Church.\n\nFor the _world's sake_ it is needful that we come at the truth.  The\nage may not _want_ preaching, but it _needs_ it.  Possibly it also\nwants it more than we suspect.  It must be preaching of the right kind,\nhowever.  Preaching that lacks the qualities proper to itself is worse\nthan useless.\n\nFor our _own_ sake, we preachers must come at the facts as they are.\nIt lies before us all to give one day an account of our stewardship,\nand the years are swiftly passing by.  Now is the time for\ninvestigation.  Soon will come the hour when opportunity will be\nsucceeded by retrospect.  Men have been known to make discoveries in\nrelation to this matter when too late; when only the possibilities of\nregret remained.  To look back over the past and think that men have\nsuffered in relation to eternal things as a result of our lack of zeal\nor of faithfulness, or from some preventable defect in our dispensing\nof the word, must be a sad occupation for those years when the\ngrasshopper has become a burden.  The echo of our sermons will be in\nour ears at the last.  That echo will be either a song of gladness to\nsing itself forever, or a lamentation to be soothed to sleep no more!\n\nTo be of some little service in the course of this personal and private\ninquiry this volume is sent out.  It claims only to be a reminder of\nthings perfectly well known, but of the sort that need repeating.  Will\nour brethren of their charity acquit us of the charge of presumption in\ntaking up the theme now timidly approached?   Many, very many, who turn\nthese leaves will bring to their perusal far greater ability, and\nknowledge, and experience than we are able to wield in their writing.\nA few men learn the value of wealth from the possession of it; more\nfrom a lack thereof.  Nothing better teaches the value of money than\nthe association in the learner's experience of hunger with an empty\npocket.  What slight qualification for the production of this book we\npossess has been obtained in a similar way.  Some few things we have\nlearned; some we have proved through our many mistakes; some, again,\nthrough our frequent failures.  They will be found set down in the\nchapters yet to come.\n\nAs a general statement of the plan of our endeavour, it may be said\nthat we will try to speak of some essentials of effective and\nsuccessful preaching, essentials first in the preacher, then in the\nsubstance of his message, and, finally, in the form and manner of its\npresentation and delivery.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I.\n\nTHE MAN.\n\n\nTHEORY OF BOOK I.\n\nTo have Effective Preaching you must have the Effective Preacher.\nJesus Christ first Chose and Called His men and then communicated the\nSubstance of the Message He wished them to Declare to the World.  To\nevery Preacher it is left to speak that Message in his Own Way.  The\nImportance of the MAN in relation to the accomplishment of the purposes\nof the Message is therefore obvious, and with him we begin.\n\n_What are the Essential Qualities of the Effective Preacher?_\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nThe Designation of the Preacher.\n\nThe preaching of the Gospel is more than a mere utterance of certain\nhistorical facts with deductions therefrom; more than a declaration of\ncertain doctrines with their applications.  It is a highly complex\nintellectual, moral and spiritual act.  Two men may deliver the same\nsermon.  There may be similarity of voice, of manner, of delivery, but\none of these men will _preach_ the sermon, the other only recite it.\nThe difference may be almost beyond definition, yet it will be felt.\nAt the bottom it will be found to be this:--That one man is a preacher\nand the other is not.\n\nSo then the man himself matters?  Indeed he does, and to the extent\nthat it is not the declaiming of what may be called a sermon that makes\na man a preacher, but the _man_ who, through self-expression, by being\nwhat he is, makes such an utterance preaching.  _First_ the preacher,\n_afterwards_ the preaching.\n\nAnd in the preacher the first essential to effectiveness and success is\nwhat we have called designation, and designation is in part natural and\nin part spiritual.  Natural fitness and spiritual calling, gifts,\ngraces and a divine revelation made to his own consciousness--without\nthese the occupation of the preacher's office, especially in the\ncapacity of the separated ministry, can only be a perpetual misery and\nmortification to the so-called preacher.  To those who come to him for\nguidance in the things of God the result of their absence may be\nincalculable and eternal!\n\nAnd, alas! there are to be found, in the ministry of all the churches,\nmen in whom natural and spiritual qualifications for their work are\nabsent and have always been absent.  Concerning such men but a few\nwords, and those in reply to the reminders that we are continually\nreceiving of the ineptitudes and inaptitudes of preachers.  These\nthings form a favourite topic with some people, to whom we will at once\nsay, that while there may be misfits in the pulpit, probably they are\nthere in no greater numbers than in other walks of life.  We have known\nsuch misfits at the bar; in the surgery; in the shop; at the bench.\nThe preacher's failure is of all failures the most public, and\nconsequently more discussed than are such other examples as we have\nnamed.  We have been so often told that \"the fool of the family goes\ninto the Church\" that we find a natural satisfaction in pointing out\nthat this particular fool is to be met with in every lane of life.\nNever a war which does not reveal his presence in the army; never a\npolitical campaign in which we do not see him being shouldered into\nImperial Parliament.  Never do men talk together of their experiences\nof bodily suffering, as sometimes even the least morbid of us will, but\nsome one is found to recall afflictions at the hands of the physician\nof little wit.  The \"incompetent\" is everywhere and if, sometimes, he\nfinds his way into the pulpit, those who jeer at the Church on his\naccount have little room for scorn.\n\nBut, true as is this reply to the oft-repeated gibe to which we have\nreferred, it is also true that nowhere does the square man in the round\nhole do quite as great and as lasting injury as he does from the\npulpit.  The _right man_ for the work--_that_ must be the ideal of the\nChurch, that man and no other, whatever be the consequence in the way\nof offending well-to-do supporters whose dream it has been that son of\ntheirs shall \"wag his head in a pu'pit,\" whatever be the disappointment\ncaused to the uninspired ambitions of callow youth or the conceit of\nlater years.  The pulpit is not for sale!  The honour of standing there\nis not to be dispensed as a reward or allowed as a compliment.  Wealth\nhas no rights and poverty no disabilities as to the occupancy of this\nhigh place.  Only the preacher must be suffered there!\n\nAnd on this matter the Church must be jealous and alert.  Sometimes the\nresponsibility for the presence of the wrong man in the pulpit rests\nwith her rather than with the man himself.  It is open to question\nwhether the Church always regards with quite sufficient seriousness\nthis business of putting names \"upon the plan.\"  We have known cases in\nwhich an individual has been persuaded against his own knowledge of his\nqualities to set out upon a career which has brought to himself nothing\nbut failure and to the churches and congregations to which he has\nministered nothing but trial.  We do well to be anxious to help men\ninto paths of Christian service, but it is needful to study the\nadaptation of the man for the task.  To send any man into the work of\npreaching, either as a minister or as a lay preacher, merely to \"find\nhim something to do,\" in order that he may be \"encouraged in the good\nway,\" as has been done in many and many an instance, is simply to\nprepare difficulties for some one else to face.  It is not sufficient\nreason for aiding a man's progress to the pulpit that his ambitions run\nin that direction, or that his relatives wish to see him in the\npreacher's office.  We have hinted at the possibility of giving\noffence, and, of course, it is not pleasant to do this, especially\nwhen, as is often the case, that offence has to be given to people whom\nyou love and honour for their works and character and sacrifices.  In\nthis world, however, unpleasant things have to be faced, and frequently\nthe line of least resistance leads in the end to the greater trouble.\nIt is even more unpleasant to have to disappoint the hopes, and\ndiscourage the desire for service, of some young aspirant whose piety\nand devotion you admire; but it is better to hold a man back from the\nvery thing he longs for most than, by cowardly acquiescence in mistaken\npurposes, to contribute to place him in a position for which he was not\nborn.  Has this never been done?  Have we never known officials vote a\nformal recommendation \"rather than hurt the young man's mind,\" or\n\"rather than estrange his parents who are such good supporters, you\nknow,\" trusting, meanwhile, to Providence for a happy issue out of all\ntheir troubles?  In the case of a local preacher the providential issue\nmay be the man's own discovery, sooner or later, of his own unfitness.\nIn the case of a candidate for the ministry some Connexional Committee\nsitting in some distant town \"may take a stand we cannot take who are\non the spot.\"  These providences do not always come to pass.  The\nbrother concerned does not always discover his unfitness.  He is\nfrequently quite satisfied with himself, and remains so to the end of a\ncareer long drawn out, with a persistent contentment which would be\namusing if its results were not so tragic.  The Central Committee does\n_not_ invariably \"find out for itself\" the facts we are afraid to\ncommunicate, and, as a consequence, the candidate goes successfully\nthrough, and in after years, as like as not, becomes a Conferential\nproblem.  Often the truest kindness lies in doing the thing hardest to\ndo and most painful to bear, and in the doing of this thing the sacred\nobligation of the church may consist.  Here is a lesson that needs\nlearning and remembering.  No man becomes a preacher in Methodism\nexcept with the assent and calling of the Church.  This must not be\nforgotten when preachers are being criticised.  Do you say that such\nand such an one ought not to be in the pulpit?  It is probably quite\ntrue, but it is also true that some Church helped him up the stair.\nHe, poor man! is not the only person to blame for your unsatisfied\nhunger; your unquenched thirst; your empty pews!\n\nBut, to look at this matter of designation more in detail:--We have\nsaid that it includes natural fitness and spiritual gifts and is made\nmanifest in a divine revelation to the consciousness of the person\nconcerned.  Of this natural fitness, it may go without saying, the gift\nof public speech will form a part.  This should surely be regarded as\nindispensable, yet how often do we come across instances in which the\nimportance of this prime essential seems to have been altogether\noverlooked?  It is not maintained that every pulpiteer need be a\nDemosthenes, or that a man must possess the golden mouth of a\nChrysostom before he stands up to address his fellows on the concerns\nof the soul.  In these days orators are not numerous, and, if no man be\npermitted to preach who does not possess this infrequent gift,\npreachers will be few, while some of the greatest forces of the day\nwill be banished from the pulpit.  What is needed is that a man be able\nto express himself in such a manner as to command and retain the\nattention of those to whom he speaks, and that, without outraging the\njust sensibilities of the hearer whom he is sent to bless, he shall be\nable to tell out the thing that is in him.  Congregations are not\ngenerally unreasonable in their requirements; indeed, as a rule they\nare predisposed to indulgence, which has been well for some of us.\nThey do not clamour for an exhibition of elocution twice every Sunday.\nThey do not come to church demanding to hear in every preacher the\nwonder of his age.  But they _do_ ask that a man be audible; that his\nvoice, if not melodious as a silver bell, be human; that his\npronunciation, if not faultless, be distinct, and his delivery without\npainful hesitancy or torrential rush.  Surely these requirements are\nreasonable enough, and it is, at least, open to question whether a man\nwho, manifestly, can never be able to meet expectations so moderate\nshould consider himself, or be deemed by others, as unmistakably marked\nout for a preacher of the word.\n\nAlong with the gift of utterance to be required in the man who is\ndesignated to the pulpit will, almost invariably, be found a mind\nstudiously inclined.  The days are gone when it was held that study for\nthe work of preaching the Gospel involved dishonour to the Holy Spirit\nand unbelief concerning the promise of the divine enlightenment and\nguidance.  The words of Paul to Timothy are now accepted as a necessary\nprinciple of pulpit preparation.  \"Study to shew thyself a workman\nneeding not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth,\" wrote\nthe Apostle; but it is not every man who is gifted for study.  Books,\nto some, are irksome, and much study a weariness to the flesh.  They\n\"simply cannot do it,\" try as ever they may.  Now we will not say that\nsuch a man can never become a preacher.  We will not even say that he\ncan never become a _great_ preacher.  There are some great students who\nread few printed books--unconscious students, you might almost call\nthem.  Again, some men arrive at great truths through intuition, and by\nnatural endowment of words are able to express them with an artless art\nbeyond the power of academies to teach.  We must never forget that some\nof our greatest and most successful preachers have been \"failures\" at\ncollege and \"hopelessly out of it\" in examinations.  Still, such men\nare exceptions, and exceptions who, in almost every instance, have, in\nvarious ways, given such proof of their exceptional endowments that\nthere has been little danger of their lack of bookishness proving a\nbarrier to their election for labours for which they were, from obvious\nevidences, designed.  Notwithstanding all that may be said of these\nexceptional cases it should be wisely and carefully discussed whether\nthe man who always prefers the street to the study, the crowd to the\nclass, the newspaper to the treatise, was ever meant to spend his life\nin instructing his fellows in matters that call for the deepest\nthoughts of men.\n\nIt is, however, quite possible that a man may have gifts of public\nspeech, and possess a studious disposition, and still be without the\n_preaching mind_.  Such a mind will be more sensitive to spiritual\ntruths and influences than the average intellect.  It will manifest a\ntalent for religion, a natural interest in things that are divine and\nheavenly for their own sake and not merely because they are to form the\nthemes for appointed discourses.  The \"delight,\" as well as the life\nwork, of such a mind will be in the Law of the Lord.  Its possessor\nwill not find himself hopelessly bored by the study of theology any\nmore than the born physician will find himself hopelessly bored by the\nstudy of physiology or anatomy or pathology or materia medica.  Again,\nto the preaching mind spiritual vision and spiritual hearing will\ncommonly be attended with less effort than in the case of most men;\nthough even the preacher will find that there are times and _times_.\nSpiritualism talks of its \"mediums,\" some of whom are said to \"see\"\nwhile others are said to \"hear.\"  The preaching mind will be in the\nbest sense both clair-voyant and clair-audient.  Call the man a seer,\nif you will, and speak of preaching as prophecy, and you will describe\nas well as it can possibly be done the designated preacher and his\nwork.  It remains to be predicated that such a man will possess, at\nleast, a more than ordinary endowment of tact and aptness in dealing\nwith men, holding keys to their consciences and their hearts.  He will\nhave some special gift of natural power to move his fellows toward the\naction they would rather not perform.  He will abound in that precious\nsympathy with humanity that _feels_ the truth concerning other lives\nwhich it cannot always _know_.  To express our meaning in still another\ntabloid phrase:--The man meant for the pulpit will possess a genius for\nspiritual things.\n\nIn these few, incomplete lines we have indicated some of the natural\ngifts whose possession should be held essential to the proof of a man's\ndesignation for the preacher's vocation.  Before the Church suggests\nthis service to one of her sons she should be satisfied of the presence\nof these qualifications; not, of course, as matured and perfected\ntalents--that would be to ask the impossible--but as evidenced in signs\nvisible to the searching eye.  Before a man yields to such a\nsuggestion, however kindly and urgently expressed, even if it only\npoint to a place on the plan of some struggling rural circuit, he\nshould know that nature has already in some degree fashioned the\ninstrument for the work.\n\nBut natural endowments and indications are not--need we say?--the whole\nnecessity.  Our fathers talked not only of \"_gifts_\" but also of\n\"_graces_\" and of \"_fruits_\" as well.  The work of religion should be\nrealised by the preacher as a personal experience and prove itself in a\nlife accordant therewith.  It is perfectly true that every hearer ought\nto be as good as the preacher, but, paradoxical as the remark may\nappear, it is none the less true that the preacher ought to be better\nthan those to whom he preaches.  It is an absolutely sound instinct for\nthe fitness of things--an instinct honourable to the preacher's\noffice--which asks that he who discourses concerning the elements of\npiety, calling upon men to embody them in works of faith and\nrighteousness, should prove his own possession of those elements in the\nsame way.  It was laid down of old time that \"they must be clean that\nbear the vessels of the Lord.\"  \"Who,\" asks the Psalmist, \"shall ascend\ninto the hill of the Lord, or who shall stand in His holy place?  He\nthat hath clean hands and a pure heart, who hath not lifted up his soul\nunto vanity nor sworn deceitfully.\"\n\nSo, before the Church sends out a man to preach let her search his life\nto see not only whether he is able, but, also, whether in his character\nand deportment grace and truth are so displayed as to give him\nauthority in calling upon others to live the holier life.  Let the\nChurch look, too, for some signs of _whole-heartedness_ in religion.\nZeal must be regarded as indispensable.  We have heard a Circuit\nQuarterly Meeting refuse to accept the recommendation of a young man\nfor the plan because he invariably failed to attend the Sunday night\nprayer meeting in his own church.  Would that every Quarterly Meeting\nhad the moral and spiritual courage to take so wise and discriminating\na course!  Further, when the church _has_ asked a man to assume the\nministry of the word, let him see to it that he take the candle of the\nLord into the secret places of his heart and search diligently therein\nlest, in going up, he take with him that which will spoil his labours\nand bring dishonour upon the truth!  He had better a thousand times\ntarry for a more perfect work of God to take place in his soul than do\nthat!\n\nAnd now comes the greatest and most vital question of all.  To a man\nmay be given gifts many and acceptable; he may have received grace for\ngrace; he may have known deep and wonderful experiences of heavenly\nthings, and yet it may _not_ be the will of God that he shall be\nnumbered with the preaching host.  There are other noble kinds of work\ndemanding all the qualifications already named, and his powers may be\ngiven to be expended in one of these.  The preacher's designation,\ntherefore, is never complete until the Holy Spirit has spoken in his\nsoul the direct command of God.  This must be clear and unmistakable.\nPersonal desire and ambition so often lead men astray.  \"Beloved, try\nevery spirit whether it be of God.\"  This is a word to be followed\nhere.  If only it had always been remembered how many tragedies had\nbeen averted!\n\nFor God _does_ directly call those whom He will for this office, and\nthose whom He so calls will certainly recognise His voice.  This is\nassumed everywhere in the Scriptures.  This is proved in the experience\nof the ages.  How often in the Old Testament do we find the record of\nsuch a revelation?  Samuel in the Temple, in the darkness and silence\nof the night, hears with the ears of childhood the word that invites\nhim to his destiny.  To Isaiah, \"in the year that King Uzziah died,\"\ncomes in the Holy Place from \"a throne high and lifted up\" the\nquestion, \"Whom shall I send and who will go for us?\" and he answers,\n\"Here am I, send me.\"  In the terms of these histories is enshrined the\nstory of the vivid way in which the Almighty revealed His will to the\nconscience of men of old time.  The narratives of the New Testament\nstill further illustrate the manner of the divine compelling.  How\nurgent His call may be, is heard in such a cry as this; \"Woe is me if I\npreach not the Gospel!\"  Here was a man to whom preaching was no\npersonal ambition, no mere means of livelihood, who, indeed, \"wrought\nwith his own hands that he might not be chargeable to any.\"  To Paul\nthis ministry was a divine compulsion; a duty only to be escaped at the\ncost of spiritual peace, of the serenity of perfect obedience.  In all\ngenerations this experience has been repeated.  Read the life stories\nof those who have wrought great works with the hammer of the word, and\nin every such record you will certainly light upon a page upon which\nwill be told the story of the call that could not be disobeyed.  The\nolder biographies of our own preachers abound in accounts of how they\nwere spoken to from on high.  In those days there was little earthly\nadvantage to be gained from the work of a Primitive Methodist preacher,\nitinerant or local.  Persecutions were many and the labour was\nhard--_very hard_.  Often do we read of men struggling to escape from\nthe order which had come unto them, and only yielding at last, because,\nfor love of Him who entreated them, they could do no other.  \"_Sent_ by\nmy Lord,\" they cried, \"on you I call!\"\n\nAnd this clear word which came to men of old time, which has always\ncome to the man whose work was to lie in the breaking of the bread of\nlife--this clear word must still be regarded as essential to a perfect\ndesignation.  Of course, there is but one man to whom _this_ supreme\nindication will be apparent, the man to whom the voice has come; so\nthat with the preacher, himself, lies the final responsibility of his\npresence in the pulpit--a sent, or unsent, man.  Do we say that it is\nto ask a hard thing to insist that no one shall preach who cannot say\nconfidently that he knows himself to have been moved of God to this\nplace and labour?  Hard, perhaps, it may seem, but \"strait is the gate\nand narrow is the way\" into this excelling service.  There are many\nhard things in the ordinances of the Kingdom, and, perhaps, it has not\nbeen well that we have so often sought to broaden the path, to widen\nthe gate.  Possibly there might be fewer preachers if all we have laid\ndown were insisted upon, but there might be more power; there might be\nmore success.\n\nDesignation made plain by gifts, graces and an inward sense of Divine\nelection--this then is the first essential in the _man_.  The\nrecollection of this will prevent the office of the preacher from being\nregarded simply as a profession.  When a man enters the ministry \"for a\nliving,\" or because, forsooth, he has social aspirations, he has taken\na downward, and not an upward, step.  When he comes into the work\nbecause all his nature, all his experiences, all the results of\nreligion in his heart and life urge him on, the Lord saying \"Go thou\nand I will be with thee,\" then glorious is his calling, and glorious\nwill be his record when the day is done!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nThings to be Realized.\n\nIt is absolutely essential to the successful preaching of the Gospel\nthat the preacher should realise the greatness and dignity of his\nposition; and having once come into this realisation, it is also\nessential to continuance in well-doing that he abide in it.  In himself\nhe may have little in which to glory, but in his calling he has much\nindeed.\n\nFor what is the Christian preacher?  He is the very messenger of Jesus\nChrist to men.  He belongs to an order founded and recruited by the\nMaster Himself.  First He sent out \"the seventy,\" who probably soon\nreturned; afterwards He sent forth \"the twelve,\" armed with a permanent\ncommission.  When, in the ranks of this early band, a vacancy arose\nthrough the unfaithfulness of one of its members, He made choice of\nanother.  From the opened skies He arrested Saul in his journey to\nDamascus that he might be a chosen vessel to bear the truth to the\nGentiles.  From that day to this He has been calling and sending, not\nless really, a succession of men every one of whom might with Paul have\ncalled himself an ambassador of the King of Kings.  Of course there\nwere preachers before the apostles and there was preaching before\nPentecost.  The prophets were preachers, and mighty was their\nproclamation of the divine message--so mighty that though addressed\nprimarily to their contemporaries it lives and burns to-day.  Later, in\nthe period lying between the end of the Old Testament and the beginning\nof the New, there were notable preachers in Israel who kept alive the\nMessianic hope and sought to \"prepare the way of the Lord and make His\npaths straight.\"  There was preaching in the synagogues in our Lord's\nown day, and He but observed an established custom when, \"entering into\nthe synagogue\" at Nazareth, as was His practice \"on the Sabbath day,\"\n\"He stood up for to read,\" and \"there was brought unto Him the book of\nthe Prophet Esaias.\"  He had a text that day, and He preached from it,\nand, if the end of His discourse was that He was thrust out of the\nsynagogue and was like to have been put to death, it was because of the\nunwelcomeness of the word He spoke, and not because He had introduced a\nnew order of service into the sanctuary of an intensely conservative\npeople.  He preached in the synagogues of Capernaum, too, \"and they\nwere astonished at His doctrine, for the word was with power.\"  John\nthe Baptist was a preacher who was more than a prophet, and to his\npreaching doubtless the Lord Himself listened more than once.  \"And\nJohn began to say unto men everywhere repent.\"  Such seems to have been\nthe burden of his message until that hour when he suddenly found his\nsweetest music and cried \"Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the\nsin of the world.\"  Yes, there were preachers before Christ, and long\nprevious to His coming \"it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching\"\nto save them that believed.  Jesus, however, gave to the order of the\npreacher a new institution.  He put upon the lips of His servants a new\nmessage.  They were to go, no longer to the children of one favoured\nnation only, but \"out into all the world, and preach the Gospel to\nevery creature.\"  From all classes did He gather the men upon whom He\nput this glorious burden.  Here was a fisherman fresh from his toil\nupon the deep; here a publican newly come up from the receipt of\ncustom; here a husbandman from distant farm or vineyard, and each was\ncommanded to go \"in My name.\"  Each was the representative, the\nambassador of the King.  Each was promised His help; each the baptism\nthrough which memory was to be quickened to recall the words He had\nspoken--the baptism which was to explain sentences which, at the moment\nof their utterance, were full of perplexing and affrighting mystery to\nsuch as heard.  Almost His very last words on earth concerned their\nmission.  Then came Pentecost, the gift of power, the descent of the\nHoly Ghost upon the waiting company in the Upper Room.  Signs and\nwonders filled the hour.  The word was with assurance and ran like fire\namong dry stubble.  The multitude was pricked to the heart.  Soon\nfollowed the Herodian persecution, and the preaching band was scattered\nabroad.  As a result \"they went everywhere preaching the word.\"  So the\nvoice of the preacher proclaiming the new faith was heard throughout\nthe countries of Asia Minor and in learned Greece and warlike Rome, on\nMars Hill where walked and taught the philosophers in the presence of\nthe admiring and novelty-seeking sons of Athens, in the palace of the\nCaesars whence ran the currents filling the arteries of the world.\nWestward, Eastward, all over the known earth they went, and still they\npreached, until, in years that seem very few, when we think of all that\nhad to be done to make true the boast, it was said \"the Christians are\neverywhere.\"\n\nAnd no preacher has ever risen to any true sublimity of service and\nsuccess who has not connected his own place, and his own work, with the\nevents of this great history.  He is of the same company as were Peter,\nPaul, John, James, Apollos.  The spiritual dignity conferred upon\n_him_, the responsibility laid upon _his_ shoulders, are of the same\nkind as were theirs.  We stand for a doctrine of Apostolic Succession,\nbut it is not a succession dependent upon a ceremonial ordination\ndispensed by a privileged and ghostly class.  It is a succession of\ngifts, of graces, of commission, of power, of victory.  The true\npreacher is God's messenger.  Does he stand before thousands--a man of\nlearning, of eloquence, of far flung fame?  His highest glory is not in\nany one of these things, but in the fact that his commission is divine.\nDoes he plod--a poor \"local brother\" from mine or loom or plough or\nforge--along dark lanes and over wild moorlands, in order that in some\ndistant and lowly village sanctuary he may speak to a few simple souls\nof heavenly things?  Let him not be depressed by the toil of the\njourney; let him not be disheartened by the smallness of the audience.\nRather let him lift up his head in humble pride that he is counted\nworthy to make this errand, to utter this testimony, for in the King's\nstead he goes, and in the King's name he speaks!\n\nA great, good thing would it be if only the divinity of their calling\ncould be brought home to all who minister among us--brought home, we\nmean, as a constantly realised truth, warming always and inspiring the\nhearts of our preachers and giving confidence and authority to their\nword.  The oft-quoted prayer, \"Lord, give us a good conceit of\nourselves,\" might well be offered with some small change of terms.  We\ndo need a \"good conceit\" of our office.  From such a conceit so many\ngreat thoughts would flow, such a sense of the importance of our task!\nWe should hear less complaint concerning \"poor appointments\"; we should\nhear less criticism of the sermons of humble but sincere men, if\npreacher and people alike remembered that this commission was given on\nthe steps of the throne.  Let the preacher think small things of the\npreaching office and small service will be the inevitable result, small\nsermons, small faithfulness, small harvests when the reaping time shall\ncome.  Let the preacher live in the great facts of his history!  Let\nhim realise--he cannot magnify--his office!  This is the word we would\nspeak into every preacher's ear throughout our Church.  There would be\nlittle murmuring concerning poor sermons and forgotten appointments if\nonly this fact could win home.  We are persuaded that the cause of much\nof the poor and careless preaching, the preaching that is perfunctory\nand cold and lifeless, lies in this:--That here and there are preachers\nwho have never realised the glory of their delegation.\n\nAnother realisation into which the preacher must come before his\npreaching can reach its highest possibilities, both as to quality and\nresults; and in which he must abide if his ministry has to remain upon\nthe heights, is that of the supreme distinction of the message he has\nto proclaim.  It is a _divine_ message which has been divinely\nentrusted to him for conveyance to his fellow-men.  In regard to this,\ntoo, he must occupy and speak from high ground.  He is not merely one\namong the world's many teachers, not simply one among the many\nspeculators who come with theories first ingeniously spun by the\nspindles of imagination, then woven in the looms of logic.  He brings\nnot a theory but a revelation.  He is not \"one of the philosophers\"\nclassified and catalogued with the rest.  He is a messenger.  Behind\nhim is One who sent him; and the message is not a philosophy but a\n\"way.\"  It is neither a guess, nor a speculation, nor a deduction; it\nis God's word to men!\n\nNow it may seem a needless thing to insist with such emphasis upon this\nview of the substance of true Christian preaching, a view that we hear\nand repeat almost every day; but it is not so needless a thing as may\nappear.  Is it not true that some preachers condescend too much from\nthe word given unto them?  Is it not a fact that some of us fail from\nvery wont and use to live in the thought that our message is as far\nabove every message as the Name it reveals is \"above every name\"?  Has\nthe preacher never been guilty of turning aside from this theme of his\nto what the Apostle called \"cunningly devised fables\"?  It seemed to\nhim that the old story had become so well worn that, for the sake of a\nlittle novelty, which might, perhaps, attract the people who stayed\naway, he might turn into some subject less hackneyed than the staple\nstock of pulpit addresses.  The reason was a very plausible one, and\nthe preacher altogether sincere.  The people _did_ come to hear him,\ntoo, as they had not come concerning the other matters he had been used\nto expound.  There was a little mild sensation, and sensation is an\nagreeable variant of the dulness of grey and monotonous years.  Most\nfolks were pleased, it seemed--indeed all were pleased who were of \"any\nreal account.\"  Many people even waxed complimentary and the preacher\nhad hard work to keep his humility in flower.  The only people who\ncomplained were those survivals of far past ages whose antediluvian\nnotions accord so ill with the progressive spirit of our times.  Of\ncourse _they_ grumbled a little; said the preacher gave them less than\nthe best, that he went to the newspapers for his subjects and\nto--Heaven-only-knew-where for the treatment of the \"topics\" so\nselected.  They complained, too, that the only advantage of leaving the\nold wells was that the effervescence of the new beverage drew larger\ncongregations of a sort to whom effervescence is everything and they\neven made the amazing statement that the great purpose of preaching was\nnot, after all, to draw great congregations which might be accomplished\nin association with failure as well as in association with success, but\nto change the hearts and lives of men and nations.  They were actually\nso unkind as to remark that of this latter kind of work there could be\nlittle done excepting as a result of faithfulness to \"the old\nGospel\"--a term getting, nowadays, rather out of date.  They _said_\nthis, and they claimed to prove the statement by figures they unkindly\nproduced.  The thing for the preacher to do, they contended, was the\nwork he was _sent_ to do.  The greatest subjects possible to him were\nthe subjects _given_ unto him.  Christ's word, they held, was\ninfinitely better worth repetition and interpretation than any other\n\"word\" the world had ever heard.  Who shall say these critics were\nwrong?  The preacher falls below the splendour of his high calling when\nhe turns from the thoughts of God to the dreams of men.\n\nOf this mistake, however, there need be little fear if in his own soul\nthe preacher dwell upon the glory of his \"treasure,\" the preciousness\nof the seed he has to sow.  \"Thus saith the Lord.\" With these words he\nwill refresh his faith and courage what time he challenges the\nattention and demands the reverence of men.  \"God hath spoken, once\nhave I heard this; nay twice,\" so he sings to his spirit as he enters\ninto controversy with those to whom he is sent.  \"Come, let us reason\ntogether, saith the Lord,\" thus may he invite rebellious men into\nconfidence concerning all those things that matter to the soul.  To\nhim, _even him_, God hath revealed Himself.  Through the written word\nhas He spoken directly to _his_ heart and mind.  To _his_ prayerful\ninquiry and diligent searching has He made known His will, _his_ mind\nbeing chosen as the organ of a revelation, honouring his devout spirit\nand earnest striving to know the truth.  Through the varying phases of\nthe experience of _this_ messenger of His He has shown him the deep\nthings of God and disclosed new applications of truths already known.\nGod reveals Himself to men to-day.  Let us at least allow ourselves the\njoy of believing that He has no favourites; that London or New York is\nas dear to Him as Jerusalem; that He will, and _does_ speak as\ncertainly through the prophets of our times as through those of any\nfar-off century in the history of the race.  Of this high doctrine\nevery new sermon ought to bring fresh proof to the preacher's own soul\nas well as to the people who hear the latest word from heaven through\nthe spokesman of the skies.  So the wonder grows!--_An ambassador of\nthe King, speaking the King's own word, spoken to me by the King\nHimself, my heart burning within me the while He talked with me by the\nway, my own soul growing strong in the incoming strength of living\ntruth warm from the lips of God_!  Stand we here--each for himself?\nIndeed we must do so; for unless we do, abiding in this consciousness\nas to our calling and our work, we shall lack full furnishing for toil\nand accomplishment, for noble battle, for glorious victory!\n\nAnd if it comes to pass that sometimes the preacher fails to realise\nthe greatness of his position and the true distinction of his message,\nand that his preaching suffers loss of effectiveness as a result of\nsuch failure, it also comes to pass, not infrequently, that he fails to\nrealise, as he should, the _great purpose his efforts are meant to\nserve_.  This failure also must hinder his preaching of the success it\nshould command.  Behind the labours of the humblest of the preaching\narmy lies the purpose which lay back of all God's dealing with the\nrace, which moved Him to give His only begotten Son; the purpose for\nwhich He who was rich and for our sakes became poor, came to earth and\n\"was found in fashion as a man.\" The purpose behind the preaching of\nthe preacher is one with the purpose behind the cross; it is, in short,\nthat purpose of infinite love which contemplates and designs the\nsalvation of the race.  \"The Son of Man is come into the world to seek\nand to save that which was lost.\"  \"_That which was lost!_\"  The\nmeaning of this word is surely not exhausted in the application of the\ntext to individual wanderers however great their number.  The whole\nworld \"was lost,\" and to seek and to save the world, \"from the rivers\nto the ends of the earth,\" He came--to bring back all humanity to\nfaith, obedience, love, purity, happiness and glory.\n\nFor the attainment of the highest possibilities wrapped up in himself\nand his work the preacher must be possessed by this imperial design.\nHe must _feel_ that he is fighting in a campaign for world\nconquest--for that and no smaller end.  We hear, in these days, a good\ndeal about imperialism in politics.  We are encouraged to teach this\nimperialism to our children, and the argument advanced in support of\nthe advice is that the learning of the lesson will have influence on\nthe way in which the scholar will perform the humblest tasks awaiting\nhim in life.  The Imperialist, it is said, will find himself saved by\nhis imperialism from sordid views and actions, from all temptation to\nmake small personal ends the measure of his service as the days go by.\nExperience, alas! has hardly justified the prophecy.  We have seen the\nwell instructed and professed Imperialist display much the same\ninfirmities and proclivities as other men.  We have heard of him\nspeaking of the British flag, that most sacred symbol of his faith and\nhope, which it is his high mission to plant on every shore, as an\n\"asset\"; and we have found that questions relating to dividends were\nnot altogether alien to his proud determination to \"fling the red line\nfurther yet.\"  But there is an imperialism in religion which has a\nhappier history.  That man possesses it who thinks of every blow struck\nfor God as a blow struck in an age-long and world-wide warfare.  This\nimperialism _does_ redeem the days, and _has_ a royal and quickening\neffect upon the labours of all who are in bondage to its spell.  Such\nan imperialist is no longer the servant of this denomination or that, a\nmere agent hunting recruits for his own little connexional \"interest.\"\nHe may seek to attach men to his Church, but only because that Church\nis part of the great confederacy of states-divine.  He goes to his\nappointment in yonder tiny hamlet, where but few are assembling to hear\nhim, as went out Alexander to subdue the nations to his will.  It is\noften said, and it is a saying too often received with small approval,\nthat the Church which does most for the support and advocacy of\nmissions to the heathen invariably does most for the spread of the\nGospel within its own district as well.  The saying, we repeat, is not\nalways received with enthusiastic approval, but it is true\nnevertheless, and it is capable of easy explanation.  This superior\ndevotion to the spreading of the Gospel at home follows as a direct\nresult of a realisation of that Gospel's all-embracing, all-conquering\npurpose.  That purpose _must_ be realised by the Church if she would\nget unto herself the victory.  With no meaner proposals must she go\ninto battle, or else the chariot wheels will run heavily and the young\nmen will faint and be weary.  What is true for the Church is, if\npossible, still more true for the preacher, for the tasks of leadership\nand inspiration are in his hands.  He must hold firmly to the ideal of\na new world wherein dwelleth righteousness.  To labour for this, and no\nmeaner dream, must be his constant and unfailing resolve.\n\nAnd how are we to keep this sublime purpose of God ever in\nrecollection, making it our own?  Ah! here is a question!  We have all\nheard and assented to this grand design of infinite love.  We all\nbelieve that \"through the ages one increasing purpose runs.\"  But to\nbelieve in the sense that we do not disbelieve, is _one_ thing, and\nprofoundly and constantly and vitally to realise a truth is _another_.\nIt is so easy to forget a belief when everything around us seems to\ncontradict the possibility of its fulfilment.  The labour of the\npreacher is often very hard; often, in its immediate results, extremely\ndisappointing.  The present and immediate care, the difficulty to be\nfaced _here_ and _now_, so much concern and so much, at times, depress\nus.  So much effort must be put forth even to _keep living_, so much\npatience even to hold up under the burden, that it is little wonder if,\nat times, we forget that our strenuous struggle is in fulfilment of a\ngreat plan to eventuate in the accomplishment of an eternal purpose.\nIf we do hold the thought it is too often only in a theoretic way.  It\ndoes not _dominate_ us as it should, and as it would if once it seized\nus by the heart.  Perhaps, more than in the case of most things to be\nrealised, it requires great grace to make the soul able to grasp it.\nPerhaps, again, the purpose of God seems to ask more from us than we\ncare to give, and the fear of the sacrifice required blinds us to the\nglory of that purpose.  As long as the preacher's programme is\nparochial or merely patriotic his preaching will lack the clarion note.\nSmall conceptions of the will of God make mean service.  God's\nintention is to reign on earth as He reigns in Heaven.  Let us live in\nthis assurance if we would help His kingdom in.\n\nBut there is still more to be realised before the preacher has grasped\nall the golden truth with which God would fortify and cheer him for the\ntask he is sent out to perform.  Did we say that he must come into a\nconsciousness of the true dignity of his office?  Did we point out his\nneed to discern the true glory of his message, which is that it _alone_\nis the message that is indeed from the heart of God?  Did we emphasise\nthe preacher's need of a clear view of the infinite, loving purpose\nbehind the work he is sent to carry through?  To all this he must add a\nclear and constant vision of the victory to come.  In that vision he\nmust live as though the music of the triumph were already falling upon\nhis ear.  There is no room in the pulpit for pessimists or pessimism.\nThe man who thinks that the world is growing worse, and _will_ grow\nworse, and _still_ worse, moving down the slopes of inevitable\nperdition until the final catastrophe shall burst upon it--that man has\nno right to pose as a preacher of the gospel of glad tidings to men.\nNot so did His Master look forward to the days to come when \"for the\njoy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, despising the\nshame.\"  Such a vision was not in _His_ eyes when He said, \"And I, if I\nbe lifted up, will draw all men unto Me.\"  Failure!  That is a\npossibility the preacher must not admit, even in secret to himself, if\nhe would not find his strength stolen and grey hairs upon him here and\nthere!\n\nAnd in the spirit of victory he not only _must_, but _may_ live.  There\nhave been darker ages than this in which the preachers have alone held\nup the lamp of hope.  Times of apparent unfruitfulness do come, times\nof drought do fall upon us, but they _pass_, for silently, secretly God\nworks on and on.  Let us believe in _Him_.  His are the yet uncounted\nyears.  He prepareth His ways in the darkness, \"and He will bring it to\npass.\"  In that faith alone is great, true and mighty preaching\npossible.\n\n\n  Thus, with somewhat of the seer,\n    Must the moral pioneer,\n  From the future borrow;\n    Clothe the waste with dreams of grain,\n  And on midnight's sky of rain\n    Paint the golden morrow.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nThe Need for Certainty.\n\nOne of the most obvious lessons to be learned from a study of church\nhistory is a lesson teaching the necessity of the positive note in the\npulpit.  The great ages of Christianity have been those in which\naffirmation has been clear and definite and strong.  The great\npreachers of the past have ever been positive preachers, men whose\nassurance concerning their message was heard in every tone of their\nvoices, who knew in whom they had believed.  Especially has this been\ntrue of those whose ministrations have been the means of great revivals\nof religion as seen in the awakening of zeal within the Church and the\nsalvation of sinners.  How positive were the Wesleys!  How sure was\nWhitefield!  How absolutely certain of things were the fathers of our\nown Church!  How real to them were God and Jesus and Heaven and Hell.\nThey were narrow, perhaps.  Possibly they were often intolerant.  It\nmay have been the case that they were rather too ready to damn every\none who disagreed with them as to the interpretation of the truth of\nGod.  They may not have always displayed a sweet and brotherly\nreluctance to brand as a heretic any person whose creed was a little\nmore hopeful than their own.  It might possibly be shown that there is\nsome truth in the suggestion that they were not always able to render a\nreason for their convictions with an intelligence and a wealth of\nknowledge proportionate to the strength with which they held them.  But\nthey _did_ know where they were.  They _could_ identify themselves\namong theologians.  They were ready with a confession of faith.  This\nis _so_, and _this_ and _this_, they could say.  _That_ will come to\npass, and _that_ and _that_, they affirmed, as if they saw it all\nenacted before them.  The result of this strong believing was seen in\nthe production of strong belief and, better still, of determined action\nin those to whom they preached; for belief is at least as infectious as\ndoubt, as the records of spiritual movements and the biographies of\nreligious leaders of all schools will prove.  There was no theorising\nin those camp-meeting sermons to which the people of this land were\nlistening a hundred years ago; no \"honest doubt\" in those invitations\nheard upon the greens of the villages and in the market-places of the\ntowns while yet the last century was young.  Here were preachers as\nsure of their message as they were of their own existence.  Of \"mental\nreservations\" they knew nothing.  They had never even heard the term.\nThey dealt in \"wills\" and \"shalls\"; not in \"peradventures\" or \"maybes.\"\nThey said of a thing \"it is\" or \"it is not.\"  They went up into such\npulpits as they possessed, not to conduct a public inquiry after truth,\nbut to declare it.  They were not out in search of a gospel adapted to\nthe needs of the age.  They had found the one sure way of life adapted\nto this and every other time.  This they cried aloud, and then lifting\nup their voices in song, \"Turn to the Lord and seek salvation,\" they\nwent marching on, while men followed enquiring with weeping eyes, \"What\nmust we do to be saved?\"\n\nSuch was the preaching of our fathers, crude enough, much of it, no\ndoubt; lacking, perhaps, many of the literary excellencies and graces\nof the preaching of our later days, yet mighty because of its very\nsureness, because of its splendid dogmatism.  The complaint goes that\nthe pulpit of our time lacks this positive note; that by word or tone\nthe preacher conveys the impression that he is \"not quite sure.\"  It is\nreported that he suggests where once he proclaimed, surmises where once\nhe declared.  It is alleged that people are turning away from the\nchurches because they can obtain no certain answer to the questions of\nthe soul.  Instead of quoting a \"Yea\" or a \"Nay,\" they report replies\nto the effect that _probably_ the answer should be \"Yea,\" but that, as\nwe are at present passing through \"a period of transition,\" as all our\ncreeds are \"in the melting pot,\" we must wait a little while for an\nabsolutely categorical reply, preserving, in the meantime, an open mind\nand a trusting heart.  For purposes of consolation, and to encourage\nthem to this trustfulness of spirit, they are told, so they relate,\nthat \"devout men are at work upon the sacred documents;\" that other\nmen, equally devout, are reconsidering the doctrines, and that, among\nit all, the preacher does not worry, but, with admirable calm, waits\nand trusts, knowing \"that in the end his position will be stronger than\never for the surrender of a few defenceless outposts.\"  By preaching\nsuch as this possibilities are suggested which, it is said, cause more\nconcern than comfort to the man in search of definite guidance on the\nmost serious and vital subjects with which the mind is called upon to\ndeal.  Another statement we have heard:--That as this kind of thing is\nmet with almost exclusively in Protestantism it works out largely to\nthe advantage of the Roman Catholic Church.  Few weeks pass by in which\nwe do not read of this or that well-known person who has \"gone over.\"\nAs only the more prominent \"converts\" are mentioned in the press we may\nbe sure that the number of unknown and relatively unimportant people\nwho secede from Protestantism is much greater than is known.  From one\nof this multitude came a little while ago an explanation of the step he\nhad taken:--\"The Roman Church knows what she believes.  Her priests are\npositive.  I cannot risk my soul upon a theory; I want a fact!\"\n\nNow it is quite possible that this complaint is greatly an\nexaggeration.  It is certain that many are blamed while comparatively\nfew are guilty.  It is quite possible to be too much disturbed and\nalarmed by criticisms of the Church and her preachers.  These\ncriticisms do not all come from the sincerest friendliness; neither are\nthey always absolutely without bias, or invariably founded upon\nextensive observation.  The Church at her worst has always been\nbetter--she always will be better--than her enemies allow.  The same is\ntrue of preaching.  Still it is wise to ask ourselves, when a criticism\nis laid against either Church or preacher, whether there may not be a\ngrain or two of truth to the bushel of chaff.  It would be a misfortune\nif in our contempt for this same chaff we should lose the corn hidden\nthere.  Where there is smoke it is well to remember there is always, at\nleast, a smoulder of fire.  Grant that much has been made of little,\nwhich is a weakness of the critic in every time, and that all the\nrumour has resulted simply from some lack of definiteness on the part\nof a few.  Grant, also, that as the criminal is always far more talked\nabout for his transgression than the honest man for his honesty, so the\nman who betrays his doubts in the pulpit is far more discussed than the\nninety-and-nine sure men who go on their unsensational way according to\nstandards made and received from old time amongst us.  Grant all this,\nand it will still remain to be said that the preaching of the present\nday, in those churches where the right of private judgment on matters\nof faith and doctrine is recognised, would, to make the least of it, be\nall the better for a more positive tone.\n\nBut how has it come to pass that there should have occurred, even in\nthe small degree in which we admit it, a loss of the sureness which\nmeans so much in the preaching of the word of truth?  The question is a\nlarge one, and to answer it fully much more than all the paper\ncomposing this book would be required.  It may be that the spirit of\nthe age is not a spirit favourable to belief.  In some periods faith is\nglorified; in others, doubt.  In these days, it might be thought from\nmuch we hear, a little scepticism is the one sure evidence of\nintellectuality; while steadfastness in the creed of one's youth proves\nthe possession of a dull and narrow mind and the existence of that\nhopeless mental condition known as fossilisation.  Ours are the days of\nscience, and science has frightened some people terribly concerning\nreligion, though it would almost appear that she is now beginning, in\nsome measure, to repent, and is turning to soothe the timorous souls\nwhom she formerly terrified.  Ours are days of criticism too, and the\ncriticism has largely been concerned with the very writings wherein are\nrecorded those words upon which we have relied as containing the way of\nlife.  Some things said to have been discovered have disturbed us a\nlittle, though why they should have done so it is difficult, upon\nreflection, to see.  We have been too prone, perhaps, to surrender\nourselves to such a feeling as is natural to those anxious moments\nwhen, having called a consultant to the bedside of a sick friend, we\nhave just uttered the request, \"Now, Doctor, tell us candidly the\nworst.\"  All these things would be mentioned in the long history which\nwould be needed fully to narrate the causes of the slight slackening of\nfaith noted here and there; but, for all the importance which would\nprobably be ascribed to each in turn, they are not the only reasons;\nthey are not even the chief reasons.  Those, we are bold to say, are\nnot intellectual, but moral and spiritual!\n\nAnd these moral and spiritual causes of doubt in relation to eternal\nand divine things will emerge as we proceed to try to answer the\nquestion, which now arises, as to how we can recover that measure of\ncertainty which we have lost, and which we must regain, with additions,\nif we would achieve that power in the work of preaching which is needed\nto turn the hearts of men towards God and goodness.  Notwithstanding\nall that may be said as to the difficulties of the situation, we\nventure to think that the lines upon which confidence may be won back\nagain are not impossible of discernment.\n\nFor, simple as the suggestion may be; lacking all flavour of the\nextraordinary as it does; without novelty and confessedly\nold-fashioned; we have but this to commend to all who waver and doubt,\nto all whose voices falter as they seek to utter the mighty\naffirmations of the Gospel:--That the way to win again the old\nassurance is to come back to the source of their sublime vocation,\ndetermined, whatever may befall, there to abide all the long and trying\nday.  \"Reach hither thy finger,\" He said to the doubter whose faith had\nwell-nigh died for loss of a few days' open vision, \"Reach hither thy\nfinger and behold My hands and reach hither thy hand and thrust it into\nMy side and be not faithless but believing.\"  The spirit of St. Thomas\ncomes upon us all at times, perhaps more often in youth than age.\nOccasionally it comes uninvited; sometimes, alas! we open the door and\nbid it enter.  There is but one way of escaping this spirit, and it is\nrecorded in this old history.  Surely for doubting souls in all ages\nwas this experience of Thomas written down!\n\nThe way of certainty is the way of the extended hand.  Ultimately the\npreacher's faith depends upon the use he makes of his own spiritual\nopportunities.  \"If any man will do His will he shall know of the\ndoctrine whether it be of God.\"  There is an intimate connection\nbetween intellectual results and moral and spiritual conditions.  The\nsurrender of the will to God is always followed by an increase of\nspiritual intelligence.  That this is true we have seen proved\nunnumbered times as lowly piety has revealed sublimities of faith and\ntrust.  Spiritual things are, and must be, spiritually discerned.\n\nAnd this is not so hard to understand as may appear.  A life\nsurrendered to the will of God is of all lives the most peaceful and\ncomposed.  It is lived in an atmosphere of repose.  In such an\natmosphere the mind has an opportunity of looking upon the great\nspiritual mysteries in the light proper to their contemplation and\nconsideration.  It is a life of good works too, and good works tend to\nestablish the gospel by which they were inspired.  It would not be\neasy--we had almost said it would be impossible--to find a man engaged\nin hard and constant toil for Jesus Christ who would complain that he\nsuffers from doubt as to the truth of the faith he serves.  Unbelief is\nnot unfrequently the penalty of indolence.  It might in many instances\nbe found possible to trace the doubts of men to their slackness in the\nservice of God.\n\nThe same spiritual laws as regulate the experience of every saint of\nGod regulate those of the preacher.  His Sabbath note will be according\nto his week-day living.  Let him be all the week absorbed in material\nthings only; let him seek only his own gratification, only his own\nwealth or pleasure or advantage; let him walk only in the lower paths,\nand he must not be surprised if, as he stands up upon the Sabbath, his\nvoice be found to have lost the old ring of joyful and glorious\nassertion.  He must not be astonished if his grasp of heavenly\nmysteries and promises and provisions be slack, and if, as a result, he\nspeaks in halting tones.  If his daily walk be far from the side of his\nLord, he must not wonder if other spirits find their way to his ear and\nfill it with whispers of doubt and fear which make his testimony\nhesitant and of small effect for good.  We say he must not be surprised\nat these things.  No, nor must he find the reasons for this weakening\nof his faith in the message itself, though that will inevitably be the\nchief temptation of such dangerous hours.  He should ask first\nconcerning the life he is living, whether it is of a sort to make faith\nan easy thing.  He should ask concerning his personal observance of the\nMaster's counsel of prayer and self-denial and cross-bearing.  It is\npleasanter, no doubt, to seek the reasons for one's unbelief in\nintellectual than in moral directions.  The former method may flatter\nus a little; the latter is often very painful!\n\nAnd yet by inquiring as to our moral condition the whole secret will\noften be discovered.  There is also another question to ask:--If we\nunderstand the promises of our Lord, in even a slight degree, He gives\nto all whom He calls into the holy ministry the assurance of a\nComforter who will guide them into all truth, and bring all things to\ntheir remembrance whatsoever He has said.  Are we quite able, we who\nare afflicted with doubts which sometimes make it hard to preach, are\nwe quite able to say that we have honoured Him in putting His promises\nto the proof as we might have done?  Was not one of the Master's words\nto us \"It shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak\"?\nThere was no uncertainty in the Upper Room in that glad but awful\nmoment when the pledge of the ages was fulfilled to the children of the\nnew and better covenant.  Let us seek that experience again.  Let us\nbegin our quest at the cross, with a prayer for forgiveness, and a vow\nof reconsecration.  Let us wait upon Him for a renewal of that divine\noutpouring of which He has never disappointed His chosen messengers\nwhen they have sought it at His hand, meanwhile denying themselves,\ntaking up their cross and following Him.  Let us but obtain that\nbaptism, and all our crippling and alarming scepticisms will vanish,\nand the full round tone of fearless confidence return.  Such a return\nis the need of the present hour--spiritual certainty in an age of\nmaterialism, the one sure antidote for all its cares.  Thus only can\ncome that revival of religion for which we have sighed and looked so\nlong.  Be assured that there can be no such work of grace as this\nunless the message of the pulpit be with definiteness and confidence.\nHere would the answer to many a question, the solution of many a\nproblem be found.  Hearers would be conscious of a new tone in the\ndelivery of the weekly word.  Truth would be spoken as if it were truth\nindeed, and in their very consciences men would know it to be true.  No\nlonger would the way of life be pointed with trembling finger.  Once\nagain the ambassador would stand forth in all his royal glory and cry\n\"Thus saith the Lord,\" and now Sinai's thunders, now Calvary's gales of\ngrace, would give majesty and tenderness to his voice!\n\nSuch is the way back to certainty, if certainty in any of us have been\nlost for a little while.  Yet, even as we name it, there comes again to\nour ears the old enquiry so often heard as an explanation of durance in\nDoubting Castle:--How does all this accord with the advice constantly\ngiven to men to seek to win each a creed for himself?  Is it not a\nman's duty to make his inherited beliefs and the things which are told\nhim the subjects of his individual inquiry and of his own personal\njudgment and proof?  Yes; all this is true but other things are true as\nwell.\n\nThe first of them is surely this:--That a man should have won this\ncreed for himself before he set out to provide a creed for other\npeople.  Once more, preaching is not a public inquiry after truth but a\ndeclaration of it.  The man who has not got beyond the stage of inquiry\nhas no right to be in the pulpit at all.  Some preachers are always\nmaking confessions as to their difficulties.  It ought to be seen that\nthe people do not come to hear of the preacher's difficulties, but to\nbe helped in their own.  Another thing that is true is this:--That it\nis surely not the best way of winning a creed to begin by doubting the\ntruth of everything in order to get at the truth of _something_, as\nmany seem to do.  Surely it is not the best way of winning a belief of\none's own to conduct an inquiry with the object of finding how much is\nfalse of the things we have been taught.  Why not begin with the\npurpose of finding out how much is true?  Why not seek for\nconfirmations as well as for contradictions?  It is surely something to\nthe credit of the things instilled into us as children that unnumbered\ngenerations of great and holy and thoughtful men have found in them\ntheir spiritual sustenance and salvation.  It might have a helpful\neffect to ask why it should be left to you or me, so late in time as\nthe beginning of the twentieth century, to make the discovery that the\nfaith which has inspired \"saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,\" which\nhas saved its millions, satisfying the deepest longings of the heart\nand the highest demands of the intellect; the faith which has inspired\nthe purity, the benevolence, the courage and endurance of a long, long\npast--is only in a very limited and partial degree the truth of God.  A\ndue appreciation of the significance of history ought, it might seem,\nto be enough to make it appear, even to the youngest and most daring of\nus, an impossible thing that teaching which has produced such triumphs\ncan be false.\n\nThen as to this search for \"a creed for himself\" which, we are\nreminded, it is every man's duty to make:--It also remains to be said\nthat for success in this pursuit, as for success in some other\npursuits, an observance of spiritual laws is needful.  A man should\nseek for his creed as _prayerfully_ as he seeks for any help of which\nhe ever finds himself in need.  The path of prayer is the path of light\nand of truth.  The mistake often made is this, that we try to find this\ncreed without seeking the help of God.  \"I will be inquired of saith\nthe Lord.\"\n\nOne more question:--Is the possession of this certainty consistent with\nprogress?  Are we not told to expect new light as years pass on?  Has\nnot every preacher the right to look upon himself as the possible organ\nof new revelations to his fellows?  Even so; but light will not\ncontradict light.  As the glimmer of the dawn grows into the brilliance\nof the day, the rays of the sun, falling ever more brightly upon the\nlandscape, bring more clearly into view the features which at first\nwere dim and dreamlike.  As the glory creeps over vale and hill,\ntouching here a winding river, there a patch of vivid green, yonder a\nwindow of some distant dwelling, new points of beauty and interest are\ncontinually being revealed; but the scene, though better discerned, is\nstill the same as first burst upon our view at the moment when the sun\nleaped into the firmament from behind yon eastern hill.  Further\nrevelations we may indeed look for, but they will only be new chapters\nof the \"old, old story,\" and \"continuations\" at that.  They are for\nconfirmation, not disturbance.  God cannot contradict Himself.  No one\nwas more sure of the law-givers than the prophets; no one more in\naccord with the prophets than the apostles.  Our Lord came not to\ndestroy but to fulfil.\n\nSo then certainty is consistent with progress; with an attitude of\nreceptivity toward new light.  A firm belief in what the Lord told us\n_yesterday_ is harmonious with an eagerness to hear what He may have to\nadd to-day.  It is indeed to be regarded as proof of our faith in\nyesterday's communication that we hearken for to-day's word.  Certainty\nis possible to the preacher, and certainty he must have!\n\nYes, certainty he _must_ have; for the people ask for it, and have a\nright to demand it from those who stand up in God's name to teach them\nHis way.  We have read of blind guides, \"blind leaders of the blind.\"\nSuch a leadership is that of the preacher who has no sure word to\nspeak.  For his own soul's sake the ambassador must have certainty, for\nwhat life can be more wretched than the life of a man set up to\nproclaim a message doubted of his own spirit.  For God's sake; for the\nsake of the Gospel to be uttered; for the sake of the high purpose of\nthat Gospel he must be _sure_.  Without certainty there can be no truly\neffective and successful preaching!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nIndividuality.\n\nAnother essential quality of the effective and successful messenger of\nChrist is individuality.\n\nThe preaching of the truth is, after all, _man's_ work for the sake of\nman, and _the man_ is needful to the completeness of the definition.\nIt has ever been God's way to work His will and reveal Himself to\nmankind through members of their own race.  He does not speak to the\nnations in a supernatural voice rolling over the land.  He does not\nwrite His word across the arch of the sky in any way plainer than in\nthat language of which the stars are syllables.  It is true that\neverywhere the inscription of His power and Godhead may be seen; but\nneither in nature, nor in history, nor in human instincts does He\ndeclare Himself on the deeper needs of the soul.  His way is to use men\nwhom He calls, trains and equips.  Even Jesus, Himself, came in fashion\nas a man, that He might speak with the speech of a man to the\ngenerations for whom He was to die.  One meaning of this must surely be\nthat true preaching derives power from the man himself as well as from\nthe truth expressed.  In His infinite resourcefulness the Creator has\nmade all men different.  Wonderful it is, but true, there are no two\nmen who are, in all things, each a duplicate of the other.  Physically,\nmentally, morally, spiritually, every man is _another_ man.  We speak\nof the average man; really there is no such being.  No average can be\nstruck which takes account of all that every man is and includes every\nquality and peculiarity of body, mind and spirit.  Each birth is a new\ncreation.  Here comes one into the world to occupy a new point of view.\nHe will see things with other eyes; he will hear them with other ears.\nHe will relate them in his own way, if only he be permitted to do so.\nShould he become a preacher, the message will be new in his newness.\nIt will gather something for its commendation to the few or to the\nmany, in that this man looks upon it from his own standpoint and\nexpresses it in his own tongue.\n\nIt is sometimes complained that in these days the pulpit is in danger\nof losing that which the individuality of the preacher should bring\ninto it, for the reason that such individuality is being improved out\nof existence.  \"There are few personalities that count nowadays,\" we\nare told.  Time was when there were more.  Names occur to all of us,\neach of which stands in our mind for someone who, as we put it, was a\nman of himself.  All Churches have had such men; our own was rich in\nthem.  To-day, they tell us, we are all in real danger of becoming\ndecorously, decently, conventionally alike.  We have conceived a\ntypical preacher and we try to approximate to our conception; a typical\nsermon, and we try to preach it.  \"He is a typical curate,\" \"a typical\nPresbyterian minister,\" \"a typical Baptist pastor,\" \"a typical\nMethodist travelling preacher;\" \"he is a typical local\"--how often we\nhear these expressions!\n\nIt may be well to give to this complaint at least so much consideration\nas to ask whether it is true.  At once we may say, if it is \"the\ntruth,\" it is not \"the whole truth,\" neither is it \"nothing but the\ntruth.\"  There are still among us, thank God! preachers who bring the\naroma of individuality into their ministrations, and are a brand of\nthemselves.  Some turn of speech, some tone of voice, some distinctive\nway of putting a thing, some mysterious, but unmistakable, difference\nof flavour they have managed to preserve, and how grateful we are when\nwe hear or see or taste or feel it.  It is like the discovery of a new\nflower in the woodland, of a new star in the constellation!  \"It's no\na'thegither what he says; it's the way on't,\" said the old Scots woman\nin eulogy of her minister.  We could mention little traits, which,\nsmall as they are, have been on the human side the success of\nministries familiar to us all.  There was a message and there was a\n_man_.  But while the complaint is not all true, it is not for us to\nsay that it is made without reason.  It is possible that what many a\npreacher needs, before the success he desires can be his, is to recover\nnothing more, nor less, than his own lost self.  It may be that some of\nus present a ministry true to type, but false to our own personality.\n\nThe fact is that willingly or unwillingly, consciously or\nunconsciously, everybody (and everything) seems to-day to be combined\nin a huge conspiracy to crush out the individuality of the individual.\nThis is seen in every department of life.  It is the inevitable result\nof all highly developed civilisation.  Before society is formed the\nindividual is everything and \"one of himself.\"  After society is formed\nhe is one among many; sometimes even rather less than one.  In the\npolice-force men are known by numbers.  In the world of industry they\nare described as \"hands.\"  Civilisation brings infinite advantages, and\nlife would be impossible without it; but we have to pay the price\nthereof, and it is part of it that the individuality of its subjects\nmust be subordinate to the communal interest.  It will be well if, in\nsurrendering ourselves so far as is necessary for the public good, we\ndo not go beyond this requirement to a degree of sacrifice which\ninvolves the loss of our own individuality.\n\nFrom this danger the preacher has hard work to accomplish his\ndeliverance.  It is not only the peril of social life; it exists in the\nChurch, and the more highly organised the Church the greater the\ndanger.  Referring again to our own denomination, there was a time, not\nso very far behind us, when the preacher was largely left to work out\nhis own development.  As a result, individuality had in those days\nevery chance to assert itself.  The tree grew much as it would, for\nthere was no one to lop off a branch here, to bend one there, or to\ngraft upon this stem a shoot from some other variety.  Of course the\ngrowth was often very peculiar; luxuriant on the sunward side, starved\non the northern aspect, disproportionate, maybe, though often on those\ncurious branches fruit was abundant for those who sought.  Probably\n_we_ would train those oaks, and cedars, and apple-trees in the midst\nof the wood to more conventional shapes if we had them to-day.  Hugh\nBourne might have to overcome that habit of putting his hand before his\nface as he talked, and he would certainly have to use language much\nless lurid than he occasionally employed.  William Clowes might have to\nabandon his practice of repeating a sentence over and over again in\nanimated crescendo.  Henry Higginson might be instructed not to lapse\ninto impromptu rhyme in his Camp Meeting addresses.  Joseph Spoor might\nbe informed that if he wanted gymnastic exercises he must take them in\nprivate, and never by way of standing with one foot on the pulpit seat\nand the other on the book-board the while he illustrated, by means of a\nroll of bills, his conception of the trumpet call to the Last Judgment.\nThese men and a host of others we might put into a correcter shape\nto-day.\n\nNow it is not contended that gifts are not to be trained, or that it is\nundesirable to teach and practise  a certain  self-restraint.  No doubt\nbuffoonery has often masqueraded as originality; and the great results\nwhich have undoubtedly attended ministries in which extremely bad taste\nand irreverence have been prominent have not been in consequence of\nthese things, but in spite of them, and by the power of a passion for\nsouls underlying them all.  \"Other times, other manners,\" is a proverb\nwe must not forget.  That there are risks in courses of study imposed\nwithout distinction upon one and all alike cannot be denied, but\nabundant and convincing reasons support their adoption notwithstanding\nthe risks.  It is an old objection to ministerial colleges that they\nspoil able men and are unable to do much for feeble ones.  We hear,\noften, that such and such a man \"is not half the man he was when he\nleft home to keep his terms.\"  There may be truth in it all; but it is\nequally true that a polished instrument is better than a blunt one;\nthat in the hands of a wise man every atom of knowledge means more than\nan atom of power.  Moreover, it can never be proved that a man who\ncomes from college to fail, would not have failed, even more terribly,\nwithout the training he there received.  Again, it _can_ be proved that\nout of our colleges have come men whose ministries have been of\nincalculable blessing to the Church.  In the end, after all, the\npreservation of a man's individuality rests with himself.  The fact is\nthat often we lack the necessary courage to be ourselves, and as a\nresult, we give in too soon and too readily, to what appear to us to be\ndemands to sacrifice our soleness that, thereby, we may become\nsomething higher and better than we are.  In this way men degenerate\ninto imitators and echoes.  Such a man is a power and has such a\nmanner.  He moves us deeply, shows us heights we have never seen and\nreveals to us visions of which we have not dreamed.  We are not content\nto appropriate his donation of truth and rest satisfied with the\nintellectual and moral stimulus he bestows.  God did not make two of\nhim, but _we_ think there ought to be another, and we try to be he.\nThe attempt is always a failure.  The worst of it is that in our effort\nto be another we have ceased to be ourselves, and after such a loss\nwhat do we still possess?  Perhaps the disaster comes in another way.\nConventionality has certain curious notions about the pulpit, the\nfulfilment of which it paradoxically despises as it demands it.  The\npreacher is expected to speak in a different voice and wear a different\nexpression in the \"sacred desk\" from his voice and expression in other\nplaces.  In some churches he is expected to read the Bible in a\nstrange, archaic sort of way, pronouncing the words which appear upon\nits pages with a pronunciation never employed under any other\ncircumstances.  The newspaper is _read_, the psalms are _intoned_.  It\nis a crime to be natural.  All the time men are sick of the whole\nfabric of artificiality, and long for that touch of nature which makes\nthe whole world kin.\n\nAnother way of losing individuality is to allow oneself to be drowned\nin officialism, buried beneath its trappings, interred in its\ndignities.  Many a man spends his life in a futile attempt to live up\nto some official tradition, even as he might pass his time in a family\npicture gallery cultivating the expression of some ancestral portrait\non the wall.  There is also to be remembered the possibility of a\nslavery to books.  There is such a thing as the spell exercised by a\ngreat author through the printed page.  We heard the other day of a\ncontemporary literary man who is understood to pose as a second edition\nof William Shakespeare on the strength of some asserted resemblance to\na bust of the poet.  Certainly it cannot be on the strength of any\nintellectual inheritance.  We could name men who have preached in a\nthousand times more pulpits than they have ever seen through the lips\nof others whom they have subdued to bondage by some famous volume.  We\ncould name the books if we cared to do so.  Perhaps we could recall\nperiods in our own life when such a spell cast its glamour over us.\n\nTo resist all these influences successfully, or, rather, to so\nappropriate what is good and helpful in them, which it is our duty to\ndo, and still remain a full blooded, virile individual, will require\nresolution.  To give due meed of homage to the great, due\nrecognition--and there is a certain recognition due--to the conventions\nof our church life--to realise the office of the preacher, to\nassimilate the book, to grind and polish one's gifts--to do all this,\nand yet be at the end of the doing of it our own natural, unaffected\nselves, is far from easy.  It can only be done as the preacher\nremembers two or three things which are all too often forgotten or\nignored.\n\nAnd the first of these is surely this: That each and every man's\nindividuality is a gift from God, the basal talent on which the rest\nare built.  It was of the wisdom of God that you were born you and I\nwas born _I_.  Here is the one and only possession which is our very\nown, and which none other can share, however ready we be to barter it\naway for something of less value.  \"Do you know who I am?\" said the\nnobleman, swelling with importance, to the boy who failed to lift his\ncap in the lane.  \"I am the Marquis.\"  \"An' does yer honour know who I\nam?\" said the lad.  \"I am Patrick Murphy from the cabin by the bog.\"\nWithin that ragged jacket was an inheritance which could not be\nmeasured as could land, or counted as could money, or appraised as are\ntitles and coronets, but which was as real as any of them and more\nvaluable than all; an inheritance to be improved, perhaps extended,\nennobled, but never changed into something other than itself.  Let us\nremember this.  With all humility, it is _capital_ for pulpit business\nthat we are what we are.\n\nAnd another thing is written in our experience for our reflection, and\nit is this:--That it was for what we were that God called us into this\npreaching work.  _He_ had discernment of natural qualities in calling\neven us, and counted upon them to be serviceable in His Kingdom.  There\nis surely no need to deny our manhood, or become ashamed of this being\nthat is \"I\" when _He_ chose it for employment in ambassadorship.  It\nwas for what Peter was as Peter, dashing, impetuous, impatient, full of\ndriving power and combative energy, that Jesus called him from the\nfishing of Galilee into the ministry of the word.  It was for what John\nwas as John, intense, clear-eyed and trustful that he, too, was called.\nThomas was also called--that Thomas who found it hard to believe but\neasy to love, and whose faith, when once achieved, brought a whole\nheart's devotion to its gracious object--even he was called, not as\nanother, but as himself.  Very different from them all was Saul of\nTarsus; logical, incisive, proud with the pride of ancient lineage and\nof high culture, descendant of armoured kings, citizen of the first of\ncities--he, too, was called for he, for himself, was needed.  So\nthrough the ages--what contrasts we behold, what differences as between\na Chrysostom and an Augustine, a Calvin and a St. Francis of Assisi, a\nWesley and a Fletcher of Madeley; as between William Booth and Charles\nHaddon Spurgeon, called, every one of them, because he was what he was.\n\nThen let us remember that if He chooses a man for what he is, it is\nbecause He knows that the work needs just this very man.  Many tools\nwill be called into service before the brown pebble hidden away in the\nblue clay beneath the South African veldt becomes the glorious star of\na monarch's crown.  One will tear it from its age-long concealment;\nanother will test and prove its value; others will grind; others\npolish, and by others will it be set in its place of pride.  Very\nmysterious, again, are the correspondences and affinities existing\nbetween human souls.  It is very curious how one hearer will respond to\nan appeal which would never touch another.  \"There is something about\nhim that always gets at _me_,\" remarked a hearer, adding, \"and I cannot\ntell what it is, or how it does it.\"  The \"something\" was\nindividuality.  Why it _did it_, was because, somewhere in the soul of\nthe hearer was a chord tuned to some string in the preacher's nature.\nSuch ships are reached by a given set of wireless apparatus as have\ntheir instruments tuned to that apparatus.  There is something between\nmen reminding us of this.  Again, for a man's own sake it is a pity to\nsurrender this individuality of his.  For in holding on to it with grim\nresolve lies the only possibility of full self-realisation.  Let a man\ncultivate himself along the line of what he is if he would come to his\nbest and achieve any genuine success, any real happiness in life.  The\nworld is full of men who have failed, simply because they left\nuntrained what they _were_, to try to be what they _were not_ and never\ncould become.  Nowhere is this more true than in the pulpit.  Many an\nexcellent Brown, or Jones, or Robinson has been spoiled by his attempt\nto become a Beecher, a Joseph Parker, an Archdeacon Farrar.  Many a\nDavid, less wise than he of history, has failed against his Philistine\nbecause he discarded the sling he knew so well how to use, the smooth\nstones from the brook he knew so well how to aim, for the panoply and\nordnance made for the greater limbs of Saul.  Along one line, and one\nline only, was victory possible to the son of Jesse, and from that line\nhe would not be diverted.  It was a shepherd who came from the hills as\na shepherd armed.  It was this same shepherd with this same weapon who,\nresisting temptation, went out to the apparently unequal conflict from\nwhich he returned bringing the head of his adversary.  This history is\nsurely written for preachers that, for their own sake, they may be\nencouraged to give exercise to their own spiritual genius.  Along one\npath alone lies, if not greatness, at least usefulness for every truly\ncalled messenger of Christ.  It is along the path of faithfulness to\nself in the development, the polishing, the use of his own gifts in his\nown way.\n\nOnly one other word remains to be added:--That, as already hinted, the\npew hails always with respect the man who is brave enough to be\nhimself.  Let no one imagine that he can try to be someone else, or\neven that, without trying to be anyone in particular, he can surrender\nhimself to a conventional ideal of clericalism without discovery and\nloss of the esteem and reverence of men and women of sense.  The pew is\nvery quick to see through disguises, be they worn never so skilfully.\nNo voice rings true in a man's throat excepting his own.  The people\nare sick of the cleric in the pulpit; they want the _man_.  They had\nrather hear you when you are planned than any one, or anything, you may\ntry to be.\n\nHere then is the true originality by which the gospel is made new by\nevery new preacher of it and by every new telling of its wondrous\nstory.  The old truths may be repeated in almost the same old words,\nbut here and there will come a new tone, a breath of new influence, a\nnew personal aura.  Oh, for the _individual_ in the pulpit, the\npreacher who is not an echo, but comes to relate the evangel as it has\nbeen unfolded to himself!  Oh, for the brother who will bring us, not a\nsermon only, but _a man_--a man discovered, saved, cleansed, polished\nby God; improved into value and profitableness, but still a man!  In\nthese words we express one of the greatest needs of the hour, and\ndefine a quality absolutely essential to the successful and effective\npreacher.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nConcerning \"Understanding.\"\n\n\"And the preacher had understanding,\" so runs the ancient word, and\n\"understanding\" the preacher must have.  This is only another way of\nsaying that he must know what he is talking about.  So much as this, at\nleast, is essential in every man who comes forth to teach others.\n\nAnd this proposition has reference to more matters than such as are\ntheological or Biblical.  It ought to go without saying that the\npreacher should know as much as he can possibly learn about the book in\nwhich is written the revelation he has to hand on to others.  It ought\nto be equally well understood that he obtain, at least, a working\nknowledge of the theology of the church to which he belongs and for\nwhich he speaks.  Again, it is, surely, not unreasonable to expect that\nhe will have some acquaintance with the \"evidences\" on which rests his\nappeal to his fellows.  A preacher should certainly be as well able to\ndefend his faith as the average man is to attack it.  It must be\nfrankly recognised, of course, that it is impossible for every preacher\nto be an expert on every question of Biblical criticism and\ninterpretation that may arise.  Especially is this true in a Church\ndrawing the great majority of its preachers from classes untrained, in\nthe ordinary sense of the word, for their work.  Still, it is possible\nfor every man among us to have an intelligent grasp of the subject upon\nwhich he discourses.  It is possible, we say, and it ought to be\nrequired.  With so elementary a proposition we do not even tarry for\ndiscussion, excepting to say that he who will not so far give himself\nto study as to secure this simple furnishing should not be surprised if\nthe people cease to ask for his services.  It was a wise word of Dr.\nAdam Clarke:--\"Study yourself to death, and then pray yourself to life.\"\n\nFor the purposes of this lecture we take it for granted that every\nreader is already so convinced of the need just set forth that there is\nno need to dwell upon it.  We do desire, however, to emphasise the need\nof that understanding which goes beyond what is particularly known as\nthe Gospel.  There is no department of life and experience which that\nGospel does not cover, and, therefore, there is no one who needs to\nspeak of so many matters as the preacher.  Carlyle proposed a\nprofessorship of things in general.  The pulpit within certain limits\nis such a chair!\n\nIt has long been the reproach of the studious class to which the\npreacher belongs that its members, in their devotion to book-learning,\ntoo often remain ignorant of \"life,\" that they live in a world of paper\nand print, of speculation and theory, which is seldom a faithful\nreflection of the real world of men and women and actual affairs.  Such\na man, in short, is apt to live in a world of his own--a very\ndelightful world, it may be, intellectual, idealistic, spiritual; but\nnot the world of every day--the world in which the vast majority of men\nhave to spend fifty-two weeks of every year.  Very delightful, too, is\nthe type of man thus produced--charmingly learned, sweetly innocent,\nguileless, impracticable; walking the path of life with head in air,\nwith eyes unseeing and ears unhearing the things that fill the thoughts\nof common men.  Holding fellowship with the immortals, eating the bread\nof philosophy, doctrinaire, drinking the wine of poetry--how good would\nit be to live with such men if only there were nothing else to do in\nthis old world of ours.  Dreamers of dreams; watchers of the stars;\nspinners of speculative webs, in which they love to find themselves\ngloriously entangled; Rip Van Winkles asleep to the actual, so wise\namong books; so deliciously foolish among men and affairs--we know the\ntype, and we do confess we love it!\n\nBut, delightful as is this kind of scholar or preacher, he is often\nfar, very far, \"out of it\" in dealing with the needs and perils of\nthose around him.  That was a significant passage in the will of the\nSouth African Colossus in which, in forming a trust to administer the\nscholarships he desired to found at the Universities of Oxford and\nCambridge, he provided that a number of men of business should find\nplaces upon the board, in addition to the men of learning already\nnominated, as the latter were often unlearned in the ways of business.\nThere is a statesman in this land who has lost the headship of a great\nparty largely because of a confession that he does \"not read the\nnewspapers\" and is \"a child in these matters.\"  Even political parties\nrequire something more in their chiefs than an appreciation of the\nsubtleties of philosophic doubt.  Of course there is a place in the\nscheme of things for this type of man; there is no doubt a use for him\nin certain fields of thought, and it is our good fortune that plants\namongst us men who are with us, but not of us, for to our ultimate\nadvantage may be their sublime detachment of mind.  It is here simply\npointed out that their place is not in the pulpit of a busy, perplexed\nand burdened age.  Their use does not lie in inspiring men to deal with\nurgent practical issues.  True enough, the truth they discern may be of\nthe highest value in the matter of leading men out to the light of day;\nbut it will be found that the lamp will generally have to be kindled\nand carried by other hands than his who found the wells of illuminating\noil.  It needs genius to make discoveries and often quite other genius\nto apply them.  \"He is a preacher to preachers,\" was said of one, and\nsaid truly, as many hearers could testify.  But this \"preacher to\npreachers,\" as a preacher _to the people_, failed!\n\nAnd the misfortune is that often, alas! it comes to pass that just such\nmen as these do make the attempt to guide men through a world of which\nthey, the preachers, know nothing.  To change the figure, they make the\nattempt to treat by means of remedies which they have studied a little,\npatients whom they have not studied at all, and of whose condition,\nhabits, history and surroundings they know next to nothing.  There is\nmuch of this kind of doctoring and what is the result of it?  What but\nthe oft-repeated criticism that the sermon had small practical\napplication to the every-day side of things?  It answered no present\nquestions, though it did, perhaps, throw light upon some period of\nJewish history.  It solved no present problems, though it _did_ contain\nan interesting exegesis of a much discussed passage.  It dealt with no\npresent difficulties, though it did suggest an entertaining theory as\nto the authorship of such and such a psalm.  It opened out no heart\nbefore its own vision.  It neither created nor deepened nor satisfied a\nsingle desire.  It might as well have been a disquisition on the fate\nof the lost ten tribes of Israel, or a treatise on the properties of\nthe differential calculus, or a discussion of the politics of the\nplanet Mars for any application it had to the need of any one person,\nyoung or old, in the congregation sitting there and providing that\nexample of patience which was the most edifying feature of the\noccasion.  It was eloquent, learned, poetic, profound, but _it was not\nlife_.  It is because there is so much of this kind of preaching that\nit has come to be said that the pulpit is out of touch with the needs\nof men; that it is too otherworldly, and that it displays a knowledge\nof everything but the necessities it pretends to meet.  The criticism\nmay be exaggerated and unjust, but the contention it is meant to\nenforce is true.  Preaching must be _life_.  Preaching can only be life\nwhen the preacher has understanding!\n\nUnderstanding of what?  Of the human creature to be preached to and by\npreaching saved, ennobled and led up, through almost infinite\nopposition, to a glorious destiny.  That human creature must be studied\nat first hand.  It is not enough to know the heart of man according to\ntheological classification and description.  Consciously or\nunconsciously, the effective preacher will be first a practical\npsychologist and _afterwards_ a theologian.  If he cannot be greatly\nboth he had better be a psychologist with small knowledge of theology\nthan a theologian with small knowledge of psychology.  He has not to\nspeak to abstractions; not to speak to _sinners_ merely, nor to\n_saints_ as he knows them through descriptions whereof the subjects\nwere simply types, but he has to preach to _men_ and _women_, men and\nwomen who all have their individual and peculiar tastes, tendencies,\nlikes and dislikes, desires and passions; men and women looking at\nthings in ways of their own, influenced by such and such prejudices,\nsuch and such hopes and fears.  Every one has his own disposition, his\nown history, which began long e'er he came upon the earth in far-off\nancestors, who bequeathed to him the inheritance of themselves to be a\nblessing or a curse, or, what is more frequent, both a blessing and a\ncurse, as circumstances and free-will may decide.  Here are racial\ninstincts, tribal qualities, individual idiosyncrasies, and all to be\nstudied with care and perseverance.  The preacher may preach to five\nhundred people to-night, and he has so to preach as to bless them all.\n\nThe first study of the messenger, then, must be the study of men.  He\nmust specialise in human nature, and his understanding must go down\ninto its very depths.  Every addition to the volume and accuracy of his\nknowledge will mean addition of power and competence.  Those writers\nwho impress us most are those who understand us best.  The physician\nwho most commands our confidence and, as a consequence, does us most\ngood is he whose description of our symptoms most nearly corresponds\nwith our own experience, who, we reason, obviously \"knows our case.\"\nPutting his finger upon the painful spot, the aching limb, he says:\n\"Thou ailest here and here,\" and we feel the cure begun, for the\ndiagnosis is nine-tenths of the treatment.  Similarly when the man in\nthe pew _feels_ that the man in the pulpit understands _him_--and he\nsoon makes the discovery--he listens for what has yet to come.  How\noften the true preacher hears the remark:--\"Sir, your sermon was _about\nme_ and _to me_!\"  That is a certificate of efficiency which may well\nmake a preacher glad.\n\nTo attain to this understanding men must be studied in all the ways we\ncan devise--individually and in the mass, for, strangely enough, men in\nthe mass often look at things very differently from the manner in which\nthe individuals, of whom the mass may be composed, would look at them\nwhen alone.  In books, too, man must be studied, but more especially\nface to face, in constant, earnest observation.  The preacher must get\nout and about.  A recluse he cannot afford to be.  Pale-faced piety\ncultivated in the cloister may be admirably adapted for Sunday\nexhibition, but is apt to prove rather ineffective when brought into\nactive service in week-day tasks.  Wisdom waits to be gathered in every\nplace where men do congregate.  Earnestly must the preacher listen in\nthose moments--and they come to all true teachers of the things of\nlife--when some fellow-mortal, compelled by very need, opens to him the\nsecret chambers of his soul.  Great, also, is the knowledge the\npreacher may win from self-dissection.  Let him analyse his own heart\nunsparingly, his own motives and desires.  His doubts and fears, his\naspirations and longings are for his teaching that he may be able the\nmore wisely to deal with those of other men.  \"Commune with thine own\nheart and be still.\"  There is one man whom every preacher needs more\nfrequently to meet, and whose acquaintance he needs to cultivate to a\npoint of greater intimacy, and that one man is himself.  Know him, and\nso know his race, for he is kindred, bone of bone and flesh of flesh,\nwith all who live.  He who would explain a man to himself must first\nhave explored the dark continent of his own soul!\n\nAnd the preacher's knowledge of men must include as large a measure of\ninformation as can be acquired concerning the conditions under which\ntheir lives are spent, and which so greatly influence a man's\ncharacter, and account, so largely, for what he is and does.  The\npreacher has to be Greatheart to his hearers in relation to the\ntemptations they are called upon to fight, and often our temptations,\nwhen not the immediate product of our own hearts, grow out of the\ncircumstances under which our lives are lived.  If, again, the\ntemptation be not the direct result of these circumstances, it is often\naided by them in the undoing of the soul.  The poverty and\nwretchedness; the low bodily state of the slum dweller, have, at least,\nas much to do with making him the sot he often is as his intemperance\nhas in bringing him to indigence and misery.  Criminality, we are\nbeginning to see, may be partly a vice, partly the result of bad\neconomic and social laws, and partly a disease inherited with life\nitself.  The same may be said of many forms of sin which do not,\nperhaps, come within the scope of the law courts of the land.  Not that\nany conditions, or any personal history, abrogate responsibility in the\nevil-doer.  The _final consent_ lies ever with a man himself, but the\nconditions of his life may explain how many things came to be, and a\nknowledge of them may point the way to help.  The physician of to-day\nnot only feels the pulse and uses the stethoscope; he asks questions as\nto drainage and ventilation, as to supplies of water and of light.\n\nLet us remember, then, that the preacher needs to be in a very\nconsiderable and general degree acquainted with the life of the world\naround him.  He should know something about business; something about\nindustry; something of the every-day round of those sitting before him\nin free seat and cushioned pew.  Ignorance of the world is worse than\nignorance of letters, or sciences, or arts.  A preacher ought, if\npossible, to know something of ancient oriental manners and customs and\nlanguages; but it is infinitely more important that he know something\nof the actualities of his own time.  History tells us of the great\nFrench lady who, hearing the people clamour for bread, remarked that\nsurely they need not make so great a noise about bread.  Was there not\nbeef to eat?  How interesting are those articles, with which our\nnewspapers are sometimes enlivened, wherein duchesses take in hand to\nteach the wives of working men how to keep house on thirty shillings a\nweek.  We have seen \"A Guide to Cookery\" written by a countess for the\nuse of families of moderate means, and the book was very well worth\nbuying if only for the sake of a little mild amusement when the spirit\nis in danger of growing too serious for mental health.  A great chapter\nin humorous literature is that in which Mark Twain places on record how\nfor a few brief but exciting days he edited an agricultural paper while\nthe editor was, perforce, absent from his chair.  Good, it is to read\nthe answers he returned to rural inquirers who wished for counsel in\nrelation to the difficulties of farm or garden.  This kind of thing in\na newspaper is ridiculous; in a cookery book or an article on domestic\neconomy it is amusing; but in the pulpit it is disastrous.\n\nThus it comes to pass that while the preacher must not neglect his\nstudy, he must just as certainly not fail to learn the lessons of the\nhome and of the street.  He must talk often with his fellow-men.  He\nmust drive conversation with the workman of the city and with the\nmaster for whom he works.  He must hold intercourse with the man of\nbusiness as well as with the brother minister with whom it is so\npleasant to chat on topics of mutual interest.  He must cultivate the\nfriendship of the ploughman as he \"homeward wends his weary way.\"  He\nmust even condescend to little children.  Men can only learn from _him_\nas _he_ first learns from _them_.  Of course all this may mean some\nlittle sacrifice, some self-denial.  The tastes of the preacher may lie\nin other directions.  They are such pleasant company--those writers who\nspeak to us from pages waiting to open at our touch.  It may seem such\na waste of good opportunity to leave the philosopher in half-calf for\nthe society of the workman in fustian.  It may mean some coming down\nfrom one's stilts, too, some forgetting of what is called \"one's\nposition.\"  It may involve, to put it in a word, the living of a human\nlife among human beings; still, the results will be worth the winning.\n\nAgain, an understanding of the material conditions under which life is\nlived, greatly helpful to the preacher as it is, is not all that is\nneeded.  The messenger must know in what direction runs the _thought_\nof his age.  The learned and able authorities dwelling within the\ncovers of the precious volumes upon his library shelves form an\ninteresting and inspiring society in which it is pleasant to spend his\nhours.  The religious people with whom the preacher mostly consorts\nform a more, or less, agreeable circle in which it may be pleasant to\npass such time as he can spare for social enjoyment.  But the world has\nmany men and many minds.  Continually the ferment of intellect goes on.\nThoughts ripen into tendencies with wonderful rapidity.  It is recorded\nof a great emperor that he was wont to disguise himself and wander at\nlarge among his people, listening to the talk of common men.  As a\nresult he knew, even before his counsellors, how set the wind.  Hence\nhe was \"beforehand\" in his government.  There is no rebellion that is\nnot first a conspiracy, and no conspiracy that is not first a\nsmouldering, and then a blazing, discontent.  The preacher must hearken\nbeneath the eaves for his people's sake.  He must stand sentinel upon\nthe tower.  He must be a watchman in the night.  He must put his ear to\nthe earth that he may detect the far-off tramp of approaching foes.\nWhat is being said in a whisper to-day will be cried from every high\nplace to-morrow, and he who listens to the whisper may be found ready\nto answer or explain the cry--perhaps, even, to prevent it.  \"As those\nwho watch for your souls,\" so writes the Apostle.  \"_As those who\nwatch._\"  Behold the shepherd, as he tends the flock, sleeplessly\ngazing for the approach of lion, or wolf, or bear, or prowling Bedouin\nof the desert.  So must the preacher sweep the horizon by day; so\nlisten to the speaking silences of the night.\n\nThen to all this the messenger must add an intimate knowledge of the\nChurch, of her condition and of her needs.  To know her history is\nwell.  It is knowledge from which the Christian worker of every name\nmay derive many warnings.  It will be found to contain many lessons\nprofitable for consolation and for inspiration.  It will suggest many\nan useful explanation of phenomena in the church life of to-day.  But\nthe preacher must study the Church as she is in this very hour.  How\nbeat her pulses _now_?  How run the currents of her life in the days\nthat _are_?  Does her faith wax, or wane?  Does her love grow colder or\nwarmer with the passing years?  Is it well with her, or is it ill?\n\nIn regard to all these things our friend will have--he _must_ have if\nhe seek to feed the flock of God with food convenient--true\nunderstanding.  He will know how the work of God is moving in the\ncongregations.  He will be able to distinguish between true, spiritual\nsuccess and that success which is noise and show alone.  He will\ndiscern the difference between the rosy flush that signifies health and\nthe hectic spot of burning red that speaks only of disease and death.\nHe must look _deep_.  He must look _far_.  He must look _constantly_.\nHe must look _deep_, because truth lies often at the bottom of a well,\nand the true state of the Church is not always according to superficial\nsigns.  He must look _far_, because he is surely more than a mere\ndenominationalist; he belongs to the Holy Catholic Church, and he must\nknow her life in other places in order to better judge her life at\nhome.  He must look _constantly_, for \"if the good man of the house had\nknown in what watch the thief would come he would have watched and\nwould not have suffered his house to be broken up.\"\n\nFor the effective delivery and application of his message, then, we\ninsist that the preacher needs to be in touch with every aspect of the\nlives of those who come beneath the influence of his preaching.  He\nmust know _them_; the conditions under which they live; the thoughts\nupon which they feed from day to day.  Oh, if only we knew more about\nthe people, how much more could we help and bless them!  There they sit\nbefore us as we speak.  If only we could look down into their hearts;\nif only we could hear the questions asking themselves in their minds,\nthe doubts and fears, the sad perplexities which, even within sound of\nour voices, darken our counsel and come between the soul and God!  If\nonly we knew the struggle maintained, the heavy burden borne, from year\nto year by yonder man anxiously listening to our words!  Silently he\ncomes and goes between his home and this house of prayer.  He neither\npines nor whines; he does not rise to put the question which needs an\nanswer before his heart can be at peace.  If we only knew--but oh! our\nknowledge is so small at the best.  The more reason then why we should\nseek to make increase therein, that from the worst results of ignorance\nin their teachers the people may be saved!\n\nLest some may think that, in emphasising the importance of that\nunderstanding which is not altogether gained from books we have\nunder-valued the work of the study, let us, in closing our chapter,\ndescribe what seems to us to be the highest type of training for the\nwork of the pulpit.  It is the training in which the student gives to\n_every_ means of furnishing its due and proportionate place; in which\nhe turns to books _and_ to life for the wisdom he seeks.  We have\nspoken of the impracticable scholar, but not all men of learning have\nbeen of this order.  Among the most practical of preachers; among those\nwho have displayed the greatest knowledge of the human heart and of the\ntimes, their conditions and their problems, have been many renowned for\nbreadth and depth of scholarship.  These men were mightier, and not\nweaker, for their learning.  They were able to apply the best of\neverything to the uses and necessities of the hour.  They brought out\nof their storehouse, to quote a well-worn phrase \"things new and old.\"\nSo let a man be diligent at his books and diligent, everywhere, in\nusing his eyes and ears, and so \"let him go round the walls of the city\nand let him tell the towers thereof.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nPassion.\n\nThere is a page in Tyerman's monumental \"Life of George Whitefield,\"\nwhich illustrates, as few pages do, the quality of that essential of\ntrue and effective preaching in regard of which we are now to speak.\nIt is that page in which are described the last hours of the great\nevangelist.\n\nOn Saturday morning, September 29th, 1770, being exceedingly weak and\nill, but bent upon the continuance of his preaching work, Whitefield\nset out from Portsmouth (U.S.A.) to ride to Boston.  Fifteen miles from\nPortsmouth, at Exeter, he was stopped and persuaded to preach.  A\nfriend said to him, \"Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to\npreach.\"  \"True, sir,\" replied Whitefield, and then, clasping his hands\nand looking up to heaven, he added, \"Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy work\nbut not of it.  If I have not yet finished my course, let me go and\nspeak for Thee once more in the fields, seal Thy truth, and come home\nand die.\"  At the commencement of his discourse he was unable for some\ntime to speak, but recovering himself he preached for two hours.\n\nAt Exeter, to pursue the story, the Rev. Jonathan Parsons, who, for\ntwenty-four years, had been Presbyterian minister at Newbury Port, met\nthe preacher.  The two friends dined together at Captain Oilman's, and\nthen started for Newbury Port, a few miles further on.  \"On arrival\nthere,\" says the biographer, \"Whitefield was so exhausted that he was\nunable to leave the boat without assistance, but in the course of the\nevening he recovered his spirits.\"\n\nLet us give the rest of the story in the words of Mr. Tyerman:--\"While\nWhitefield partook of an early supper, the people assembled at the\nfront of the parsonage, and even crowded into its hall, impatient to\nhear a few words from the man they so greatly loved.  'I am tired,'\nsaid Whitefield, 'and must go to bed.'  He took a candle and was\nhastening to his chamber.  The sight of the people moved him; and,\npausing on the staircase, he began to speak to them.  He had preached\nhis last sermon, this was to be his last exhortation.  There he stood,\nthe crowd in the hall gazing up at him with tearful eyes, as Elisha at\nthe ascending prophet.  His voice flowed on until the candle which he\nheld in his hand burned away and _went out in its socket_!  The next\nmorning he was not, for God had taken him.\"\n\nNow, surely, here is a picture worth the painting, if only one could\ncatch the true spiritual significance and lesson of it all.  Imagine\nthe scene: the listening multitude crowded into the spacious entrance\nhall; the preacher, wearied and worn by disease, and still more by his\nrestless and sublime labours in preaching the word in field and temple\nfor many a wondrous year.  The candle flickers and fails as the\nglorious voice, which has made heavenly music for tens of thousands of\nseeking souls, becomes weaker and weaker.  The feeble flame, at last\ngoes out, and leaves the preacher still pleading the cause of the Lord,\nwhose face he is so soon to behold.  History has no nobler scene to\nshow in all its gathered years!\n\nWe have appropriated this story because it appears to us to hold an\nexplanation of the meaning of the word at the head of this chapter.\nPossibly there has never been, in all the years of the Church, a\ngreater preacher than this same Whitefield, and Whitefield's greatness\nhas, to a large extent, its explanation in this, the last scene of his\nministry.  How many he led to God eternity alone can reveal.  His\nspiritual descendants are numbered by multitudes as the sand on the\nsea-shore, the stars in the firmament, for number.  When he died\nmillions in both the old world and the new wept the going of one who to\nthem had been the prophet of a great deliverance.  To this day the\nlittle New England village where he sleeps is the object of pious\npilgrimage to numbers to whom the echo of his voice still comes across\nthe breadth of intervening years.  The secret is largely hidden in\n\"this last scene of all.\"  In this mighty _passion_ to preach the word,\na passion which neither persecution nor betrayal nor disappointment nor\ndisease nor even the icy breath of approaching death could cool--in\nthis lies the explanation of a ministry that shook the world!\n\nAnd without this passion even Whitefield's gifts of oratory would have\nleft no record for our reading, for it is absolutely essential to\neffective preaching; absolutely essential to success.  Without it the\nchoicest gifts, the profoundest learning will achieve but little.\n_With_ it, even humble qualifications and limited scholastic equipment\nwill accomplish--have often accomplished--great things for God and the\nlives of men.\n\nAnd this passion for preaching will be a passion for preaching for its\n_own sake_.  To the true preacher preaching, and everything connected\nwith preaching, will be things in which his soul delights.  He will\nglory in sermon making and sermon preaching more than in any of his\nlife's other activities.  It is not implied that he will always\napproach his task without fear, or even without shrinking, or, at\ntimes, a passing desire to shun the duty devolving upon him.  There may\nbe hours when, as he truly realises the purpose of his work, a sense of\nhis responsibility will so surge through his spirit as almost to unman\nhim.  Other times, again, may come, when even \"nerves\" may get the\nbetter of him, for every preacher worth the name has \"nerves,\" and\nshould thank God for them.  There may be days in which, seeing as in a\nvision something of the mighty issues dependent upon his faithfulness,\nhe will tremble lest he be, indeed, one of those fools who \"rush in\nwhere angels fear to tread.\"  All these experiences may be--most likely\nwill be--his, and yet he will find in the exercise of his art, both in\npreparation and performance such a pleasure, and such a sense of mental\nexaltation, as nothing else can bring.  A born artist loves to paint\nfor painting's sake; to such an one there is something almost\nsacramental in the very mixing of the colours.  The true sculptor hears\nmusic in the tapping of the mallet upon the chisel as he shapes the\nmarble into grace and beauty.  There is no drudgery in the calling that\nis yours by ordination of nature, by right of true heartfelt affection.\nThe kind of preacher we mean would rather talk about preaching than\nabout any other subject, providing he meet with one like-minded with\nhimself.  He is happy to the glowing point when he can discuss with\nsome sharer of the call the latest homiletic creation of his mind or of\nthe mind of his friend.  When his creation comes to the stage of\ndelivery he is conscious of that perfect pleasantness which is always\nfelt by a man when engaged in the labour which, of all others, he loves\nbest to perform.  \"I'd rather preach than be King of England,\" he will\ntell you sometimes; and though, on occasion, he may have his \"hard\ntimes,\" a form of discipline sent upon him for his soul's good, he will\ngenerally be found within a single circling of the Sun as eager as ever\nto return to the place of his humiliation.  Many a preacher who has\nfelt, on Sunday evening, that the only thing left for him to do was\nimmediately to send in his resignation to the proper quarter, has,\nbefore Monday evening, known what it was to hunger again for the\nSabbath's sweet return.  A strange thing is this preaching madness when\nit possesses a man, as it often will, body, soul and spirit; which no\nplace can satisfy save the preacher's place, no task save the\npreacher's task, no honour save the honour of telling men about Jesus\nChrist.  Without it there can be no grand success.  He who is not thus\npossessed should decline to be drawn for this duty.  Of such as he\nthere are more than enough already in the pulpit--in it, but _not at\nhome_ in it, not glad, gloriously glad, to be there--slaving to make a\nsermon because \"in three days Sunday will be here;\" taking with them at\nservice time this so-called sermon, strong with the smell of books and\nof midnight oil; speaking it in pain of utterance, and delighted when\nthe ordeal is over, with a delight most certainly shared by many who\nneither came to scoff nor remained to pray.  Heaven help the man whom\nfate in the shape of foolish friends, or parents, or mistaken\nchurch-officials has sentenced to hard labour in the pulpit; who is\ncondemned to preach without possession of that love of preaching which\nmakes for him in whose heart it dwells the business of declaring the\nGospel the noblest and most rapturous occupation in all the great, wide\nworld!  If preparation be invariably irksome--_invariably_, we say, for\nall men have their moods and no mere passing spell of depression is\nworth more than a little special prayer; if preaching be always a pain\nand a cross--_always_, we say--for God may cause the chariot wheels to\nrun heavily for reasons of His own, and the difficulty may not point to\nretreat, but to supplication; if preparation and preaching be\ninvariably irksome and painful, the fact ought to make the preacher ask\nwhether a mistake has been made in his choice, which ought to be\nrectified as soon as possible.  The true preacher will be in love with\npreaching for its own sake.  This love will be part of the great\nall-conquering passion of his life.\n\nA \"part,\" yes; but only a part.  May we call it the human, the\ntemperamental, dispositional part?  The passion we desiderate for the\npresent-day pulpit includes something almost infinitely higher than\nthis.  It must include _the passion for Christ_.  It is the hunger to\npreach because Jesus Christ is the chief theme of preaching; because it\nis in _His_ honour; because out of the fulness of the heart the mouth\nwould speak; because the soul's deep reverence for the Redeemer _must_\nextol its object.  He is to be _obeyed_, too, in preaching.  It is a\nform of service rendered to _Him_.  The truth is _His_ truth, \"the\ntruth as it is in Jesus,\" and _He_ gave the command which is honoured\nin its publication.  By this act of preaching _He_ is pleased.  It is\nan evidence of the preacher's glad surrender to _His_  will.  It moves\nothers, too, to the same surrender.  It extends _His_  kingdom;\nincreases the number of those who \"bear _His_ name and sign.\"  It helps\n_Him_ to see \"of the travail of His soul and be satisfied.\"  It pushes\nfurther back the bounds of _His_ empire; widens the area of _His_\nsovereignty.  It \"crowns _Him_ with glory and honour.\"  So the preacher\n\"makes his boast in the Lord,\" and is \"glad.\"\n\nThus it can be said that all true preaching is worship, which is always\nthe expression of awe, reverence and love.  We sometimes speak of\nworship, _and_ preaching.  To the true preacher this distinction does\nnot exist.  No act in all the service is more truly an act of adoration\nthan is the preaching of such a man, because it is the pouring out of\nhis inmost heart's affection.  With the spirit with which he prays and\nsings; with the spirit of the Te Deum and the Magnificat, will he\npreach; and out of the same emotions toward Him whom thus he serves.\nSuch preaching is a bringing of the fruits of the mind and the spirit\nto the altar of sacrifice.  The whole Doxology is in it!\n\nYes, preaching is worship.  We Free Churchmen need to emphasise this\ntruth.  Again and again have we heard the criticism that in our\nchurches there \"is much sermon and little worship.\"  We have not only\nheard this criticism from the quarter whence it might be expected, but,\nalso, sometimes even from some of our own fellowship.  There is an\nanswer to this complaint which proceeds from a misunderstanding of what\ntrue worship really is, as well as from an underestimation of the true\nsacredness of the preacher's work.  It is this:--That preaching is\nworship when offered in the spirit of worship, and that neither song\nnor prayer becomes worship except upon the same condition.  Further we\nwould say that _hearing_ is worship, too, when the hearer listens as in\nthe spirit.  The hearer to whom song and supplication are worship,\nindeed, will also make an act of adoration of his hearing of the word\nwhich is sent unto him.\n\nBehind such preaching as this, and producing the passion out of which\nit will proceed, there must be high experiences of grace.  Such passion\ncan only proceed from a personal knowledge of Christ and from that full\nsurrender which such knowledge at once brings to pass.  Love has caught\nthe preacher in the way and led him to Calvary, where his heart has\nbeen set on fire.  He does but preach because he must, the Lord having\ndone for him such mighty things.  As the memory of that divine arrest\non the road to Damascus abode with Paul, and so sustained a sense of\nthe mercy of his Lord that he could not help but preach the gospel, so\nthe recollection of the preacher will ever linger around the glad hour\nwhen the Master met him in the path, having come down from heaven to\nseek and to save even him.  In these remembrances has the passion of\nthe preacher its origin and its reinforcement.  It is the first fruit\nof a melted heart.  The true preacher is--the word is not a pleasant\none, but it is the only form of expression that, at the moment,\noccurs--the devotee.  He is the slave of love to Christ.\n\nAnd without this whole-souled devotion--we say again--there can be no\ngreat moving and saving preaching.  Eloquence there may be,\nintellectualism, sublimity of conception and description, pathos--all\nthe qualities which are needed in high public address, but something\nwill be lacking.  None can speak of a maiden as can her lover, though\nothers may describe her with a choicer diction than he.  None can speak\nof a child as can his mother, to whom the little life is more precious\nthan her own and every childish way of significance and beauty.\n\"_Lovest_ thou _Me_?\" said the Lord to Simon Peter on that grey morning\non the sea-shore.  \"Lovest thou Me?\" He asked again, and yet again.\n\"Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee,\" cried the disciple, his\nsoul aflame with a living passion never more to be extinguished or\nbedimmed, \"Thou knowest that I love Thee.\"  Then said the Saviour,\n\"Feed My sheep,\" \"Feed My lambs.\"  Peter's preaching hour was come now\nthat this fire had been kindled in his soul.  In that confession rang\nthe promise of all the after years, of the ministry in Jerusalem, of\nhis declaration of the Christ in many a heathen city, of the death he\nwas to die in Rome.  Lack this flame of affection and preaching will be\na task, a penance, a weary iteration and reiteration of things so often\nspoken as to render them threadbare and hackneyed to the speaker.\nPossess this all-consuming love and preaching will be as \"a song of the\nWell-Beloved!\"\n\nBut the passion of preaching has in it another ingredient--if in this\nway the matter may be expressed.  To be effective and successful the\npreacher must have in his heart the _passion of humanity_.  True\npreaching is the supreme effort of a man burning to bless and save his\nfellow-men.  Precious to him are the souls before him; terrible to him\nthe thought that any one of them should come short of the salvation he\nhas been sent to proclaim, that one life should wither and be wasted.\nHe is \"kindly affectioned\" toward them.  He _loves_, therefore he\npreaches.  As long as there are souls to be warned and invited,\npenitents to be enlightened and led into the peace of God, hearts to be\ncomforted, powers to be taught a better way--as long, in short, as\nthere are men to whom his message may bring help and hope and life he\ncannot hold his peace.  He will be \"all things to all men that\nperadventure\" he \"may save some.\"\n\nNow this is a harder thing--this passion for men, as that man must\npossess it who aspires to preach the gospel with power and full\naccomplishment of the purposes thereof.  For the love he must feel must\nbe a love not only for such as of themselves inspire it, but for those\nwhose life and character are hateful.  Of what is called \"affinity\"\nbetween the man to be loved and sought and the preacher there may be\nnone.  How can the ambassador of Jesus Christ, who has looked upon the\nface of the Son of Man and in that look caught a conception of humanity\nin its fairest beauty,--how can he be in love with men and see, as he\nmust see, their meanness and wrong-doing?  The lawyer and the preacher,\nit is said, see the seamy side of life, and there is no need for wonder\nif, as has been reported, the lawyer often becomes a cynic.  The wonder\nis if the preacher do not become a cynic too.  Seeing what he must see,\nknowing what he must know, how is he to preserve that longing after the\nsouls of the very vilest which alone can sustain him in his search for\nthem \"away on the mountains cold?\"  _Can it really be done_?\n\nThe answer to this question is, and must be, No.  It cannot be done if\nthe preacher look at man only through his own eyes and try to love him\nfor himself alone.  It will be found impossible to love one man because\nwe do _not_ know him.  It will be found even more impossible--if\nimpossibility admit of degrees of comparison--to love another because\nwe _do_!  Our hearts have neither power to conceive nor life to sustain\nan universal affection.\n\nAnd yet this love of man as man must be realised before ever we can\nhope helpfully to lift up Christ and goodness for his acceptance.  The\nsecret thereof must come as came the message itself; as came our call\nto declare it,--through another love warming our hearts into living\nheat.  The passion for humanity comes to the preacher as a result of\nhis passion for Christ.  His love for Christ goes beyond its divine\nobject to all who are precious to his Lord.  The worst of men is, by\nright of redemption, Christ's man, dear to the preacher, because bought\nby the blood which is more precious than silver and gold.  The heathen\nare His inheritance and the uttermost ends of the earth are His\npossession.  Urged, sustained and comforted by this reflection, the\nmissionary crosses stormy seas, ready to find, if need be, a grave in a\nforeign land far from home and friends that, so going, he may speak to\nHis Lord's beloved concerning His wondrous grace.  Here, and here only,\nis the true missionary motive, the one missionary argument.  We do\n_not_ seek to save the heathen because of an eschatology which would\nconsign them to the outer darkness.  We cannot receive as true any\nconception of God which includes belief in a doctrine involving so\nterrible an injustice as that men should be eternally punished for\nrefusing that which has never been offered for their acceptance.  We\nthink, rather, of the Lord as robbed of the love of hearts He died to\nwin, hearts made precious by His death, and in the passion kindled by\nour vision of the Master looking from His cross away over tossing seas\nto those far-off lands and including every son of savagery to the last\nmoment of time in His dying petition, \"Father, forgive them, they know\nnot what they do.\"  We perceive upon every soul the sign of the cross;\nand this sign makes every man a brother to the ends of the earth.  So\nthe preacher is lifted by his love for his Master into a love for all\nfor whom He agonised and died.\n\nAnd this, from the beginning of his preaching to its end, and in\nrelation to all the experiences into which his labours shall bring him,\nmust be the true preacher's way of looking at his fellow-men.  The\nsocial reformer has his way, too, the politician his, the scientist\nhis.  This is the preacher's way.  Each and every man is sanctified to\nhim by the sprinkling of blood.  So he, also, will bear a cross for the\nsaving of men; so he, too, will carry the sorrows and sins of humanity.\nHe will have a Gethsemane of his own, be led to a Calvary waiting for\n_him_, for every saviour of men must tread this appointed way.  Every\nshepherd who is not an hireling \"giveth his life for the sheep.\"\n\nOne word more.  We have named the preacher's passion for his Lord.  We\nhave also named his passion for those upon whom his Lord has set the\nmark of His love.  There is something more needed ere the flame of\npassion burn with its fullest intensity.  It is the passion of the\ndream--the dream that is not a dream excepting to those who have only\nheard of it by the hearing of the ear.  To the preacher it will be a\n_vision_.  It is the vision of which we have already spoken, and may\nspeak again in pages yet to come--the vision of the divine ideal at\nlast triumphant.  In this vision the preacher must live.  To lose it is\ndespair.  No one has so many disappointments as the idealist; but it is\nthe glorious fact that no one cares about his disappointments less.\nNot that he does not see them, but because he sees _beyond_ them.  The\ntrue preacher--_he_ is your incorrigible optimist.  Some men form their\nexpectations of the future out of material supplied in tables of\nstatistics, ecclesiastical Blue Books, censuses of church attendance,\nreturns and percentages.  Not so the true preacher.  He has \"seen the\nKing in His beauty and the land that is far off.\"  Columbus like, he\nsteers his barque toward the new world his faith has gazed upon, and,\nas with Columbus, the passion of the coming victory holds him, heart in\ntune and head erect, while others mournfully prophesy the disasters\nalways by shortsighted people seen.\n\nSo by the power of his passion the preacher declares his message and\nthis passion gives power to every word thereof.  In that same passion\nis his own sustenance in all the divers contradictions that preaching\nmay bring upon him.  He needs it for his own preservation.  Often the\npreacher who accomplishes the most is, more than those who accomplish\nless, rewarded with ingratitude, misjudgment, scorn.  \"The carnal mind\nis at enmity against God, and is not reconciled to the law of God,\nneither, indeed, can be.\"  This means suffering for the preacher as it\nmeant suffering for the Lord.  What can keep him in countenance among\nit all?  Love and the passion of the vision.  In these will he conquer\never!  The prodigality of the younger son had long worn out the\npatience of the elder brother.  Love kept the father waiting on and\nvision saw the lad's return while still he was far away.  In this love\nand vision he went forth the door; in this love and vision he returned\nleading the late returning child back again to home and rest and peace\nand purity.  The parable is for preachers as well as prodigals.  Oh,\nfor the passion, the far, far sight of this old history!  They are our\ngreatest need to-day!\n\nPassion!  How is it with us now?  Have we this absolutely essential\npossession in our hearts, in our preaching, as we have had it\naforetime, as our fathers had it?  Are we so set upon giving glory to\nChrist that we long for the opportunity to come to speak His name in\nthe congregation?  Are we so given up to the enterprise of saving men\nthat we rest not day nor night for very longing for their salvation?\nAre we so full of the sense of the triumph drawing nearer that our\nhearts are already rejoicing with the joy of Harvest?  These are\nquestions for us all, and we may discover the quality of our preaching\nfrom their answers, if only we will whisper them to ourselves with\nfaithfulness to God and men and our own souls.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\nTHE MESSAGE:--\n\nITS ESSENTIAL NOTES\n\n\n\nTHEORY OF BOOK II.\n\nThe Effectiveness of the Message arises from the Completeness with\nwhich it Meets the Needs of Men.  We believe that the Measure of the\nGospel is the Measure of Man's Spiritual and Moral Necessity, and we\nplead for a Full Statement thereof in order that it may Prove its\n\"Power unto Life.\"\n\n_What are the Essential Notes of the Message?_\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nThe Note of Accusation.\n\nIn a purely heathen country the first business of the preacher must\nnaturally be concerned with the publication of the great historical\nfacts upon which the Christian faith is based.  In such a land as ours,\nwhere these facts are already the subject of common knowledge, his\nfirst service to every soul to whom he is sent is to bring home the\ntruth of that soul's condition and necessity.  It is not a pleasant\ntask.  It is not an easy one.  It forms a duty from which we\ninstinctively shrink, but no ministry is complete in which it is\nneglected.  No ministry that is incomplete can be effective and\nsuccessful.\n\nNow an examination of the history of preaching will reveal to us that\nall the great preachers have been examples of faithfulness concerning,\nnot only the softer, but also the sterner portions of their message.\nBefore us are the Hebrew prophets.  By them was Israel arraigned at the\nbar of God.  Could anything be more fearful than the indictment they\nlaid?  Kings, priests, councillors and commoners--against them all was\nthe testimony maintained.  \"Art thou he that troublest Israel?\" asks a\nconscience-stricken monarch of the seer from Mount Gilead.  Troublers\nof Israel they were, exposing, denouncing, declaring judgment against\nevil doers.  Such was their mission.  Troublers of Israel, they were\nsent to be.\n\nAfter the prophets, when, at last, the fulness of time began to dawn,\nhe appeared who was to be the great herald of the Redeemer.  \"In those\ndays came John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness of Judea, and\nsaying, Repent ye, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.\"  John, too,\nwas an accuser.  Hark, how he addresses the Pharisees; how he speaks of\n\"the axe laid at the root of the tree!\"  Once more did Israel hear of\nher rebellion and transgression.  Again was the veil torn from her\nheart, the trappings of ceremonialism, the rags of hypocrisy.  Again\nwere men made to tremble by warning of the doom about to break.\nWonderfully effective this ministry seems to have been--\"Then went out\nto him Jerusalem, and all Judea, and all the region round about Jordan,\nand were baptized of him in Jordan confessing their sins.\"  To the\npreacher came martyrdom, and that as the direct consequence of his\nfaithfulness.  It is dangerous to play the accuser at the foot of the\nthrone, and for this, in the lone dungeon of Machaerus, the Baptist\ndies, but not until He whom he announced, and of whom the law and the\nprophets did speak, has lifted up His voice to preach to the nations\nand the ages.  To the world came Jesus also as an accuser, and such\naccusations were His as men had never heard--accusations founded upon\nan infinite knowledge of mankind, on an infinite hatred of sin, on a\nperfect vision of the end of all wrong-doing.  To convince and convict\nthe world--for _this_ first of all was He made flesh.  Over the land\nHis \"Woe unto you\" rang out as the thunder of a divine sentence,\nblanching the cheek and smiting the soul with shame and fear.  For this\ntestimony He died.\n\nAnd after He had ascended up on high the apostles carried on this\naccusing work.  Knowing \"the terrors of the law\" they persuaded men.\nAs Paul \"reasoned of righteousness, temperance and judgment to come,\nFelix trembled.\"  To him the prisoner of that memorable day spoke as\nthe representative of outraged deity.  In his voice the hardened Consul\nheard the echo of his own disregarded conscience, and was reminded of\nhis \"more perfect knowledge of that way\" which would one day make all\nthe deeper the blackness of his condemnation.  The joints of his\nharness were undone.\n\nAnd so in that time of beginnings was set forth for all after years on\nthe stage of that Eastern land the pattern of Gospel preaching, and its\ngreat copyists in all subsequent generations have come forth bearing,\nas their first word to men, the message of accusation.  \"All have\nsinned and come short of the glory of God;\" such has been their opening\nannouncement.  Sin is rebellion against God; such has been their\nall-embracing definition.  \"The soul that sinneth it shall die;\"--this\n\"certain fearful looking for of judgment\" they have held up before\nmankind.  \"Thou art the man!\" has been the constant challenge of the\nChristian ambassador.  It would be an interesting employment to journey\nback across the past and listen for this note as it fell from the lips\nof the great preachers of bygone ages.  Our own Connexional fathers,\nhowever, as the figures most familiar to our minds, may remind us how\nfaithful the pulpit used to be in the execution of this hard task.\nSome of us are old enough to remember as common, a phrase which now we\nhear only occasionally and in the out of the way corners of our Church.\nIt was the expression \"black sermon\" as descriptive of a discourse in\nwhich the sterner side of the revelation was enunciated.  Such sermons\nin those days formed part of every preacher's armoury.  They were\nsermons of accusation; sermons about sin; sermons diagnostic of the\nstate of the human heart.  In these discourses the sinner was assailed\nthrough the gateway of his fears.  The old preachers believed there was\nsuch a place as Hell, and said so,--sometimes with a great wealth of\nstaking, figurative language which was perhaps used less symbolically\nthan literally.  They believed in a final and general judgment in which\nthe dead, small and great, with such as shall be then living upon the\nearth, will be called to stand before the Great White Throne to give an\naccount of the deeds done in the body.  Clearly did they see this\ncoming day and clearly did they proclaim that at any time its terrors\nmay break upon a careless and prayerless world.  Some of them gained\ncelebrity by the vigour and colour of their descriptions.  In the North\nof England they still speak of the sermon with which Joseph Spoor\ntransported multitudes into the circumstances of that awful hour.  Hugh\nBourne, it is well known, gave himself to this kind of preaching to a\ndegree which has made his name the more to be remembered on its\naccount.  His language was literal indeed!  To our mind, at the moment\nof writing, returns something of the emotion with which in the days of\nboyhood we listened to a sermon on \"The Pale Horse and his Rider\" from\na local preacher not long since passed to his reward.  Another\ndiscourse on \"The Swellings of Jordan\" has been with us vividly, though\nforty years have flown since we heard it in a tiny chapel among the\nNorthern hills.  We can remember, too, an expression now used no more,\nbut which we have often heard as part of the final appeal with which\nsuch sermons were wont to close.  \"My friends,\" the preacher would say,\n\"I have cleared myself this day of your blood.\" Sometimes this\ndeclaration would be followed by a challenge in which the ungodly of\nthe congregation were called to meet the preacher, \"on that day when\nthe books shall be opened and the secrets of all hearts shall be\ndisclosed,\" there and then to bear witness of his guiltlessness as to\ntheir damnation.  It was very terrible, no doubt, very harrowing, and\noften as unpleasant to listen to as to utter, but such preaching was\njustified by its results.  Many a sinner trembled as his heart was\nopened before him.  Many a strong man broke into cries and tears as he\nsaw himself a rebel against divine justice and mercy.  Many an one\nsmote upon his breast in terror as the veil of the future was lifted,\nand he saw himself standing guilty before the last tribunal, and\npraying for the mountains to fall and hide him from the eyes of an\nangry God.  In our time, however, such preaching has become a\ntradition.  It might be centuries since it was a fashion in the land,\nfor hardly does its echo reach our ears to-day.  And concerning this\nfact there emerges a curious thing.  Confessedly the effect of such\npreaching was often the offending of the hearer.  It has ever been\nso--was so, as we have seen, with the prophets; the apostles; the Lord\nHimself--and yet there is complaint when accusation and warning are\nwithheld, and that, strangely, from the very people who would probably\nprotest the most against it.  It is said, even by these very people,\nthat nowadays _the preacher does not hurt_; that he fails to find the\nconscience.  The fact is, there exists in the heart of man an\ninstinctive expectation that the messenger of God will do these things.\nIt is one of the criticisms of to-day that sternness has died out of\ntheology.  The preacher is no longer the representative of a _judge_;\nno longer in God's stead the accuser of men.  In every age the Church\ndisplays favouritism in her doctrinal attachments.  In our time it is\nthe doctrine of the divine Fatherhood of which the most is heard.  This\nwere well if the whole truth were told; but what manner of fatherhood\nis that of which we all too often hear?  A fatherhood of colossal good\nnature, of blind, of foolish, indulgence; a conception of paternal\nwisdom and affection against which the conscience of the thoughtful\ninstinctively revolts.  The man in the street is not satisfied, and\nnever will be satisfied, with a merely sentimental God.  Some day,\nperhaps, it may be discovered that he is outside the churches, not\nbecause preaching, asking too much, has made him afraid, but because\npreaching, asking too little, has left him contemptuous.\n\nAnd how has the change come to pass?  Some say that the lack of the\nhour is a sense of sin.  This sense, they tell us, has been lost as a\nresult of our theorising about the origin of moral evil.  There are\nsome, indeed, who talk as if the tragedy of sin was not really a\ntragedy at all, but actually a blessing in disguise.  We have been\nassured that the only hope for humanity lay in a moral fall which had\nto come to pass that the race might achieve its destiny through its\nexperience of what is only called \"wrong-doing,\" and of the suffering\nresulting from it.  Only by this rugged and shadowed road, so are we\ninformed, can we ever come to perfection and reach the golden age for\nwhich our hearts are sighing.  Others see in sin a proof that man is\nstruggling to be better.  They regard his transgression as a hopeful\nsymptom of divine discontent.  Many _do_ see tragedy in it all, but the\nblame lies otherwhere than with the transgressor.  Sin grows less\nterrible, but more hopeless, as they talk about heredity, as they\ntransfer the responsibility from the criminal to his circumstances, his\neducation, the conditions of his life or the state of society.  Not a\nsentence of punishment but a vote of sympathy should crime evoke if all\nthat is said along such lines be true.\n\nBut not in any one of these things, nor in all of them put together,\nlies the whole reason of our modern tenderness in dealing with sin.\nEven preaching has its fashions, and he is a bold man who dares to\ndisregard the prevailing mode.  The convention of the time may decide\nthat it is not quite \"the correct thing\" to lay too much emphasis on\nthe harder teaching of the Christian belief.  Whether unpopular with\nthe people or not, this teaching may be unpopular with the preachers.\nWe do not speak of these unpleasant things, for why be singular in\ndireful prophecy?  Of some preachers, to summarise, we will say that\ntheir need is a recovery of the sense of sin; of others that a deepened\nconsciousness of every man's power to triumph over his inherited\ntendencies, his circumstances, his training and the temptations of his\nage, must precede the return of success.  To others we would venture a\nreminder that the preacher might, perhaps, be all the better for a\nlittle more personal independence, and for the realisation that he is\nnot responsible only to men for the manner in which his work is done,\nbut to Him who sent him out to preach the whole message of His heart.\nThe thing for the preacher to do is to learn the truth and tell it,\neven though it be bitter to the hearer and bitterer to himself; even\nthough it make short work of social respectability and conventional\nreligiosity, bringing the blush of shame to the cheek and setting the\npulses throbbing with the fear of the lightnings of God.\n\nFaithfulness, then, is essential to the completeness of the\nmessage--faithfulness as to the true condition of the soul and its\nposition in the sight of God.  As Samuel stood before Saul in that\nfateful hour when the king, having disobeyed the commandments of the\nLord, had brought of the sheep and of the oxen which he should have\nutterly destroyed; as the prophets, the apostles, the Master alike\nlifted up their witness against a corrupt and stiff-necked people, so\nthe preacher of to-day must bear his testimony against the sins of men;\nmust pronounce the penalties of ungodliness.  A revelation of the\ntransgression of the individual, of the lost state of every soul out of\nChrist, are part of the Word received from Him who sent him.  This\ndeclaration must not concern the individual alone.  To the age, also,\nhe has a message of kindred truth.  The pulpit is erected as a witness\nagainst the generations as they come and go.  It is by the preacher\nthat Jesus Christ speaks to successive centuries.  He is the true\noracle of God.  Against the carelessness, the covetousness, the\ndebauchery and corruption of the nations, God would speak through him.\nAgainst the oppression of the poor, the robbery of the widow, the\nexploitation of the savage; against the crimes of the empires, the\nAlmighty, through his lips, would make His anger known.  He has done so\noften and often.  Again and again has the preacher turned back the\ntides of national iniquity, again and again prevented the wrongful\npurpose upon which a people had set its heart.  The need is with us\nstill.  This warning and accusing note of sternness must be regained.\nTo tell men of their sins and that they are lost unless God delivers\nthem; to tell the age of its iniquities and that the sure end of\nnational vice is national destruction--here is our work to-day.\n\nSo there needs something in the nature of a reversion to the methods of\ndays that are no more.  Yet a _full_ return to the mode of our fathers\nis impossible.  Let this be acknowledged frankly and fully and at once.\nThose \"black sermons\" to which we listened forty years ago can never be\npreached again.  The day has gone, at least within the area of\ncivilisation, for painting flaming pictures of hell, for realistic and\nhorrible descriptions of the tortures of the damned.  That kind of\nthing has had its day and can be done no more.  Preachers could not do\nit; hearers would not hear it.  The misfortune has been that the\npassing of our fathers' methods has not been followed by the discovery\nof others in which the truth they conveyed could be expressed in forms\nmore suitable to different times.  Even the man outside the Church has\nleft behind him the literal understanding of those old figures of\nspeech.  Few now think of heaven as our grandsires thought of it; few\nimagine hell as they imagined it.  Yet is there still a heaven; yet is\nthere still a hell.\n\nAnd, hard as it is to write it, it is to the preaching of hell that we\nmust return--the hell of degradation and of loss and of sure\nretribution.  That hell is the latter state to which every path of\nwrong-doing leads with the inevitability of eternal law.  Sin is hell\nin the making.  Hell is sin found out, perhaps, alas, too late.  This\nword is needed in our churches this very day.\n\nIt is needed, it was recently suggested to us, especially by our young\npeople.  With good reason the churches are all anxious as to the young\npeople, so many of whom, alas! show a disposition to leave the temples\nof their fathers.  It cannot be said that the Church has not done her\nbest along certain lines to keep the coming generation at home.  Older\nmen and women have been heard to murmur that too much has been done for\nthe young person's sake, too many things sacrificed.  Religion has been\nmade very easy--too easy, it is said.  Unpleasant demands have been\nkept, it is suggested, too much in the background.  We all know parents\nwho confess that their children are permitted to do things at home of\nwhich they, the parents, disapprove, lest they should go elsewhere and\ndo worse.  It is alleged that the same thing often happens in the\nChurch for the same reason.  Ah! you must be careful what you say lest\nyou offend the young!  This is an indulgent, a good-natured, a\ncompromising time.  Behind this solicitude the best reasons lie, but is\nthere no danger to these young people in all this amiability?  Is it\n_quite_ impossible for a young man to be put in peril by our very\nanxiety to save him?\n\nYes, there is such a possibility.  It arises when we shrink from that\nplainness of speech which is, after all, friendship's best service.  Is\nit not better to offend, even to wound deeply, than to speak only the\nsmoother things, however kindly the intent, and, so speaking, fail to\nproduce that great renunciation, that strengthening of bands, that\nstrong grasp of the Eternal which alone mean safety in future years?\nWe know that the whole question is encompassed with difficulties.  It\nis hard to write it, but the best friends of the young are not always\nthose preachers who are most tender concerning their feelings.\n\nAnd not for the sake of the young only is this note of sternness\nneeded.  It may be recalled that, some time ago, the columns of a\nwell-known religious weekly contained a discussion as to which are\nmorally the most perilous years of a man's life.  The conclusion\nreached therein was startling, but bore the test of reflection.  We\nhave generally assumed that \"the dangerous years\" are those of early\nmanhood, the years that lie between leaving school and marriage.  In\nthose years the youth has probably left the Sunday School behind him,\nprobably hangs only loosely to the Church.  He feels the vigour of his\nyoung manhood stirring within him.  He is drinking his first draughts\nof the wine of life.  Restraints are being relaxed and companionships\nare being formed, while there is a sense of freedom almost intoxicating\nin its exhilaration.  These are the days that we have commonly\ndescribed as the most perilous of life.\n\nProbably, however, we have been wrong in this conclusion.  In the\ndiscussion referred to it was contended, perhaps established, that the\nperiod of greatest moral and spiritual danger lies a score or more\nyears further along the road.  From forty to fifty, and nearer fifty\nthan forty, was maintained to be the fateful age.  Youth has innocence,\nambition, enthusiasm, ideals.  Youth has generous impulses, has not yet\nbeen soured by disappointments, has not yet found out the cynicism of\nthe world, has not become infected by the canker of covetousness.  It\nhas made no enemies, is not corrupted by success, is not daunted by\nfailure.  A score of years later some or all of these things will have\nhappened to a man.  Harder has become the world, fiercer the battle in\nwhich he is engaged, lower burn the fires of life; enthusiasm has faded\nas grey hairs have come.  _These_ are the perilous years.\n\nThere is one thing the preacher must never forget:--That the men and\nwomen before him go in constant peril from temptation.  Not of the\navowedly non-Christian only is this true, but of all.  Yonder man,\nknown for his respectability, his regular attendance at the sanctuary,\nfalters, perhaps, this very day on the crumbling edge of a moral\nprecipice.  Ever and anon some one is missed from the means of grace.\nWhere is he?  Hush!  Tell it softly and with tears.  He has fallen who\nbut recently bade so fairly to carry his cross to the summit of the\nhill.  Can it be that he fell because in the House of Prayer no voice\nwarned him?  Can it be that he has committed the greater sin because no\nreproof was whispered in his ear concerning the beginnings of\ntransgression?  Was there no message committed to the preacher for that\nman as he drew near the parting of the ways?  Did the messenger\nsuppress the truth because it was hard to utter?\n\nWhat, then, is it that is asked?  Not, of course, a ministry of\ncontinual denunciation, of constant reproach, of endless\naccusation--not that, but a ministry in which the witness shall be not\none-sided but complete.  Let us hear, if you please, of the sweeter\nthings; tell us again, _and again_, of that divine Fatherhood in which\nmust be our final trust; whisper in our cars of the gentleness of God\nand the infinite tenderness of His Son; but tell us _all_, for so\nwayward are we, so presumptuous, so prone to go astray that we need to\nhear of chastisement as well as mercy.  We must be reminded that \"the\nway of transgressors is hard\" as well as of the blessing that the Lord\nhas in His heart for us.\n\nTo the preacher, then, we would say:--Here is a task which must not be\nneglected however hard it be.  The word should be a hammer to break, a\nsword to pierce, an arrow in the heart.  Here is something for us all\nto do:--To cultivate the arts of the counsel for the prosecution.  In\nthe exercise of those arts all our knowledge of human nature, all\npossible learning in the word will be needed to their very last\nsyllable.  It is not true that any one is qualified to wave the lamp\nthat shall reveal the pitfall in the path of the over-confident\ndisciple.  He must be a wise physician who has to diagnose the sickness\nof the soul.  He must be a lawyer learned in the law who has to explain\nthe position of the rebel before his flouted Sovereign.  He must have\nlarger skill than most who has to bring home the broken will of God to\nthe soul.  A reflection, more important still, has yet to be suggested.\nFor this work the preacher will need to be a man of holiness, for,\nthough he speak to his brother only as a fellow-sinner saved by Grace,\nhe must speak as one who has escaped from bonds.  Thus comes character\ninto the business.  \"Woe is me,\" said the prophet, called to witness\nagainst the transgression of Judah, \"for I am a man of unclean lips.\"\nOnly by prayer, by the cleansing of the fountain, by sustaining grace\nshall we be sufficient for these things.  For this manner of preaching\none man alone can ascend into the hill of the Lord:--\"He that hath\nclean hands and a pure heart, and hath not lifted up himself unto\nvanity, nor sworn deceitfully.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nThe Note of Pity.\n\nIn the chapter just concluded we have tried to lay down that one\nessential of the preacher's message is the note of sternness, that the\npreacher is, on God's behalf, the accuser of his hearers, charging them\nbefore the bar of conscience, declaring to the soul its state and\ncondition, pronouncing, also, the punishment which must follow\npersistent rebellion against God.  It becomes us immediately to say\nsomething as to another note which must be heard in unison with this of\nsternness, and that is the note of pity.  It is time to insist upon\nthis.  Only that man can declare the terrors of the law who knows\nsomething of the spirit of the prophet who cried, \"Oh, that my head\nwere waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day\nand night for the slain of the daughter of my people!\"  Only he can cry\nout against Jerusalem who, when he beholds the city, weeps over it as\nhe sees its crime and shame and notes the tempest gathering to burst\nover its \"cloud-capp'd towers, its solemn temples, its airy palaces.\"\nThe preacher, like his Lord, must be \"a man of sorrows and acquainted\nwith grief.\"  It must be true of _him_ that for \"the hurt of the\ndaughter of My people was He stricken.\"  His heart must have bled for\nthe tragedy of the world!\n\nAnd into the delivery of the message this pity must find its way and\nhave expression, if not always in word, certainly in tone.  In tone, we\nsay, for the tone of the preacher's utterance is almost, if not quite,\nas important as its words.  Lacking the accent of pity, the accusations\nof the preacher will degenerate into scolding, and of all scolds the\npulpit scold is the most objectionable.  Without a pitiful heart his\nexposure of human nature will become mere fault-finding, and a\nfault-finding ministry is a ministry of desolation.  Again, without a\npitiful heart the preacher's utterance of the divine judgment will be\nbut more or less terrifying threats, and the pulpit is not set up to\nthreaten but to pronounce.  We have heard preaching of this order.  \"I\nam not at all well to-night,\" said a clergyman of whom we once read,\n\"and I shall give it 'em hot.\"  Men are sometimes reminded of their\nsins, not out of a sense of duty borne in upon a reluctant spirit, but\nbecause the wind happens to be in the east, or the preacher's nerves\nare badly out of order.  The Church is told of her coldness, her\nindolence and unfaithfulness, her narrowness, bigotry and greed, not\nbecause, after a struggle to win permission to tell a more flattering\ntale, the preacher comes forth under a divine compulsion to \"cry aloud\nand spare not,\" but because his digestion is upset, or his temporal\nconcerns are awry, or even because his personal ambitions have been\ndisappointed and himself unappreciated.  There is such a thing as\nbad-tempered, ill-natured preaching, in which the weapons of the Bible\narmoury are borrowed for the expression of the preacher's chagrin and\nspite.  In a literal sense every word he speaks may be true, but the\nspirit of the message destroys all possible good effects and turns the\nword of God into an angry snarl.  It might, therefore, be well to\ndecide to preach along lines of accusation, exposure, judgment or\nwarning only on those days when the heart is happiest, when life goes\nwell and the cheek of health glows with its brightest bloom.  Perhaps\nthe resolution might take such a form as this:--_Resolved: Never to\npreach a hard sermon when I feel like doing so_.\n\nAll this is no fancy picture, and the peril indicated is not imaginary\nbut real.  The story of Jonah is left to all time for the warning of\nthe preacher.  Seated yonder in his booth, biting his nails in\nvexation, he is the type of the preacher whose righteous indignation,\nbecause of its lack of that element of unselfishness, and that spirit\nof pity by which moral anger should always be qualified, becomes simply\ngrim and merciless wrath.  \"Doest thou well to be angry?\" the eternal\nvoice asks of him and of all who follow in his prophetic line.  It was\nnot thus that Jesus looked upon the multitude.  They despised Him--many\nof them.  That He knew.  They accused and slandered Him one to another\nand in their own secret hearts.  Some of them said He was a glutton and\na wine-bibber, others that He had a devil, others, again, that He was\nthe friend of publicans and sinners.  They ate His bread, accepted His\nhealing kindness, and all the time were making ready to cry, \"Not this\nman, but Barabbas,\" when opportunity should arise.  All this He\nunderstood, but \"when He saw the multitudes He was moved with\ncompassion on them, because they fainted and were scattered abroad as\nsheep having no shepherd.\"\n\n  \"All His words are music,\n    Though they make me weep,\n  Infinitely tender,\n    Infinitely deep.\"\n\n\nAnd the absence of this undertone of pity from the message of the\npreacher always destroys the effect of his warnings and causes the\nhearer to be less afraid than angry, as is always the case when men are\ncaptiously scolded and found fault with and threatened.  On the other\nhand, its presence gives power and penetration to the terrors borne\nupon its breath.  It is instinctively felt that the hard words of the\npreacher are spoken as by one who weeps before he speaks.  He does but\nspeak because he must, because it would be cruellest cruelty to be\nsilent.  \"For Zion's sake I will not hold my peace.\"  \"Zion's\nsake\"--here, then, is the motive of all this unfolding of the secret\nhistory of the hearer's heart and life.  From very pity this man cannot\nspeak of health when he sees the canker in the rose which blooms upon\nthe cheek, when he perceives that, despite the appearance of strength\nand vigour, \"the whole head is sick, the whole heart is faint.\"  He has\nnot told us pleasant things to-day, though we would have liked to hear\nthem, and he would have been glad to tell them, because he is too\ndeeply concerned for us to prophesy golden groves at the end of a\njourney whose every footstep is taken upon the broad road leading to\ndestruction.  With meekness can we receive the reproofs of a parent\nknowing that, however hard his word, his heart is tender.  \"Whom He\nloveth He chasteneth,\" was written of the Lord.  When it can be written\nof the Lord's ambassador, then again it will be true that although \"no\nchastening for the present seemeth to be joyous but grievous,\" yet will\nit yield \"the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are\nexercised thereby.\"  Let us take it, then, that pity is an essential of\nthe preacher's message, and must make its presence felt, if not in\nword, at least in accent, or tone, or atmosphere.  Is it too late in\nthe argument to ask what this pity really and truly is?\n\nIn Theodore Hunger's volume, \"The Freedom of Faith,\" a book which will\nbe found in many of our libraries, there is a chapter on the pity of\nJesus Christ which would probably repay us for another perusal.  Very\npowerfully the author maintains that pity is a deeper and sublimer\npassion than love.  In \"The Alchemist,\" Balzac, depicting an ideally\nperfect affection makes the object of it deformed, indicating that love\nhas not attained its highest height until it has become pity.  Thus the\nmother's love for her child is never so noble as when expressed in\nministering to its sickness.  How near to the little one does she come\nin those painful, anxious hours when, perchance, all the reward her\nlove seems like to bring is the blighting of her dearest hopes.  She\nloves her child in health, but that love is rewarded with joy; she\nloves it as it triumphs in its little tasks of intellect, but that love\nis rewarded with pride; its moral achievements awaken her admiration;\nits spiritual victories arouse her gratitude, and in admiration and\ngratitude, love has compensation; but none of these emotions so carry\nover her soul into fellowship with the soul of that dear one, none\nbring her into a touch so close, or give such gentleness to the\nfingers, such softness and tenderness to the voice as does pity, \"when\npain and sickness wring the brow.\"  And what of the parental feeling\nfor that other child--the child, we mean, whose name no one speaks in\nher ear, who has gone out from the family circle, who is away in the\nfar country, wasting his substance in riotous living; who, indeed,\n_has_ wasted it, and who is now feeding the swine of the stranger, and\nlonging to fill his belly with the husks that the swine do eat?\nBehold, now, the father standing upon the threshold shading his eyes as\nlongingly he gazes along the road which climbs the distant hill.  A\nworld of trouble is in his eyes.  \"Yonder young fool who has wandered\naway is not worth a single sigh of this grand old man,\" we say.  \"He is\nreaping as he has sown,\" we moralise.  Time was when this youth went\nbrightly to and fro in the homestead, when innocence sat throned upon\nhis forehead, when truth shone brightly from his eyes, when purity and\nmodesty mantled with blushes his boyish cheek.  The old man loved him\n_then_.  But this watching from the threshold, this long, long tearful\nlook down the road winding away to the land of profligacy and shame,\nthese are the glories of his love.  Here is _pity_.  This is affection\nglowing in its fairest flower, its most precious fruit.  Before us is a\ndim adumbration of the pity of God, the highest manifestation of His\nlove for man.  Similarly the pity of man for man is the highest\nmanifestation of our love one for another.  It is by pity, and by pity\nonly, that humanity can be brought into true unity.  It is by pity that\nthe preacher comes into oneness with his congregation.  There is a\nsense in which he comes nearer to his hearers through their sufferings\nand their sins than through their joys and their virtues, for suffering\nand sin give occasion for compassion.  Only let the man in the pulpit\nfeel this emotion toward the man in the pew; only let the tragedy of\nhis wrong-doing, the poverty of his soul resultant from his neglect of\nhigher things, the awful fact that he is without God and hope in the\nworld come home to the preacher's heart; only let the shadow of this\nman's fate cast its darkness upon the preacher's soul and oh! how\nprecious does that man become, sinner though he be.  Let the man in the\npew but feel that the heart of the man in the pulpit is almost breaking\nfor the longing it has toward him and how differently will he receive\nthe reproof that man may bring; with what new reverence will he attend\nto the solemn warning he may utter.  At last a _brother_ seeks his soul!\n\nFor another result of pity will be that the Gospel of reconciliation\nwill be preached indeed.  If from the compulsion of compassion the\npreacher declared the terrors of the law, from the same divine concern\nhe will glory to declare the way of return, the counsel and invitation\nof mercy.  Even as none but a pitiful man can declare the words of the\nlaw so only a pitiful man can declare the provisions and conditions of\nthe Cross.  If the words of the Law, without pity are mere scolding and\nfault-finding and threatening, the words of the Gospel without pity\nmust be cold, perfunctory and lifeless.  Calvary was the expression of\ninfinite compassion.  In its own spirit alone can its message be set\nforth.  You may preach even the justice of God in such a way as to make\nHis judgments seem full of the kindest intention to the heart.  On the\nother hand, you may preach the sacrifice of love in such a manner as to\nmake the story hard as judgment thunders.  You may throw a pardon at a\nman in such a fashion as to make the forgiveness it expresses more\nbitter than a curse.\n\nBut how are we so to abound in pity as to be able, at all times, to\nfill our message with its gracious influence, for pity is not always\neasy, in which fact is one element of its high nobility?  The sins of\nmen, their vices with their results in life and character, often make\nit hard to pity them.  A horrible thing is sin, and so horrible its\neffects that it seems, at times, almost impossible to look upon those\nin whom these effects are evident with any emotions save those of\nloathing and disgust.  It was no very natural thing for Jonah to look\nwith any sort of tenderness on that great, debauched, besotted Nineveh,\nreeking in its vileness, foul with the accumulated moral filth of many\ngenerations.  Out of a man's own righteousness, too, his jealousy for\nGod and his reverence for goodness, there may grow a certain hardness\nand, from very loyalty to God, it may not be easy to look with\ncompassionate eyes upon the transgressor.  We cannot but remember that\nevery blessed purpose of the Kingdom is delayed by sin.  By this black\nimpediment every golden dream of devout saints, of moral and spiritual\nreformers is held back from happy fulfilment.  It is difficult, indeed,\nto feel pitiful when the heart for Christ's sake is longing to behold\nthe glories He died to bring to pass and sees those glories thus\nwantonly postponed.  Yes, the note of pity is often hard to strike.\nThe more we think of all that is involved the more emphasis we throw\ninto the question--_how has it to be done_?\n\nThe truth is that pity for such a service needs to be earnestly and\nconstantly cultivated.  It only follows as the result of spiritual\nprocesses in the preacher's own soul.  It is not the mere outflowing of\na natural kindliness of disposition, of inborn good nature.  It is more\nthan mere sloppy sentimentality.  _That_ kind of pity, if you may call\nit by such a name, never tells the truth excepting when it is pleasant,\nnever preaches a sermon of rebuke, never reasons concerning \"judgment\nto come.\"  There is no such word as Hell in its vocabulary; there is no\naccusation in its programme.  The pity we mean blazes up into moral\nanger, smites and wounds, and compassionates the while.  This pity\nrequires cultivation.  Quoting an old phrase, \"it never grew in\nNature's garden.\"  An understanding of men is absolutely essential to\nattainment herein.  Some one has said that \"if we knew all we would\npity all.\"  God _does_ know all and _does_ pity all.  The compassion of\nJesus was aided by His knowledge of the multitude; so must ours be.  It\nis a terrible story--this story of transgression--but those who know it\nbest water it with tears.  Nothing is served by closing our eyes to\nfacts, though the temptation is great to exercise the mistaken charity\nof declining to know.  Is there no danger of a cowardly refusal of\nvision, of making the fellowship of saints a hiding place whither we\ncan escape from the sights and shames of the world?  Are we quite\nguiltless of seeking in the Christian Society a forgetfulness of the\nthings that wither and blast human souls without?  Do none of us make\nof the Church \"a little garden walled around,\" where the sound of\ncrying and of cursing breaks not upon our peace as we dream our happy\ndreams?  We are sent to look steadfastly upon the sore, to behold and\nanalyse the very truth, for it is in the measure in which our souls are\npierced that we compassionate.\n\nBut the greatest school for the learning of pitifulness is yonder at\nthe feet of Jesus.  In His company hearts grow hard to sin and tender\nto sinners.  \"Is there any sorrow like unto My sorrow?\" He cries, and\nwe know that His sorrow was not for Himself, but for those who spurned\nHim.  \"Father, forgive them, they know not what they do,\" He prays,\nand, lo! the cry is for His very murderers, and the music of it melts\nour spirit toward the transgressor while the transgression becomes more\nhateful in our eyes.  Where do you abhor sin as you abhor it upon the\nslopes of Calvary?  Where do you pity sinners as you pity them there?\nThere is the fountain of judgment.  There is the fountain of\nforgiveness.\n\nYes, the greatest school of pitifulness is in the presence of Christ.\nFrom Him, in Temple court and city street, on mountain brow and\nsea-shore, in the wilderness and in the domestic circle of Bethany, the\npreacher catches that new tone which shall give his accusation\ncommendation and power.  But there is another teacher, still, who will\ngreatly help to fix the lesson in his heart if only he be heard.  That\nteacher is Memory.  Memory is always waiting to whisper in the\npreacher's ear.  \"And such were some of you,\" writes St. Paul to the\nCorinthians, \"but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are\njustified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the spirit of our God.\"\nAh! the preacher, himself is but a sinner saved by grace.  There was a\ntime when _he_, also, was in the far country, when he, also, was a\nrebel against law and love, when even he was \"lost already.\"  Can he\nforget those days of darkness and of shame?  Can he forget how the\nwarning ambassador of his hitherto despised Redeemer came to _him_?\nCan he forget the mire and the clay and the horrible pit from which a\nstrong hand brought him forth?  Let him \"think on these things\" as he\nlooks upon his congregation, as he rebukes their contumacy.  Let him\nremember that he has come into the pulpit only by the steps of mercy,\nby the long-suffering grace of a sin-pardoning God.\n\nHere, then, is an essential part of the preacher's training--the\ntraining of his own heart to tenderness.  If he fail in giving\nattention to this, all other education will be worse than fruitless.\nThe age needs the pitiful Church.  The age and the Church need the\npitiful ministry.  This is not to say that men look to the pulpit for\nnothing but softly spoken indulgences.  Conscience has taught them that\nthe message should hurt where hurt is salutary.  They will not\nrecognise as kindness the withholding, or the dilution of any truth.\nOn the other hand they give to the motive of the preacher who does\nthese things a less flattering name.  They will say--have we not heard\nthe criticism?--that the preacher is afraid to be faithful, afraid to\noffend for reasons that are selfish and cowardly.  The offence of\nunwelcome truth is covered when that truth is watered by a preacher's\ntears.\n\nSo let us preach--declaring \"the _whole counsel_\" concerning sin for\npity's sake, preaching the whole truth concerning salvation too.\nSomething is in our mind to ask concerning our presentation of this\nlast-named portion of our message:--Are we always quite faithful as to\nwhat we call the conditions of salvation?  In the presentation of these\nconditions great skill and great care are required.  It is so easy to\nunder--or over--emphasise, so easy, out of jealousy for God, to make\nthe way too hard or, out of a desire to win men, to make it too easy.\nPerhaps in the latter possibility lies, in our time, the greater\ndanger.  Do we always ask for _penitence_ as unmistakably as we ought?\nThere should be repentance \"_toward_ God\" as well as \"faith in our Lord\nJesus Christ.\"  We may at least suggest the question:--Whether we do\nnot sometimes call for the latter, saying too little of the former.\nAgain, in calling for faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, is it not easy to\nappear to demand a mere belief in historic facts when what is required\nis the trustful surrender of the soul to the Redeemer?  We have seen\nfifty people hold up their hands, at the request of a preacher, to\nsignify their turning to God, and we have noted that no outward sign of\ndeep emotion accompanied the act.  We have watched a multitude pass\nthrough an inquiry room where, though inquirers were many, tears were\nfew.  That \"there are diversities of operations\" we know.  \"Old times\nare changed, old manners gone.\"  All this we admit, and, perhaps, we\nshould not demand to see again such things as Time has cast behind him.\nBut, oh! those were great days when the returning rebel smote upon his\nbreast and would not so much as lift up his eyes unto heaven, as with\nsobs and groans, he cried, \"God be merciful to me, a sinner.\"  Those\nwere glorious scenes when, in one and the same hour, he broke for ever\nwith old habits, old companionships, old loves and, with eyes still\nstreaming went forth exclaiming, \"'Tis done, the great transaction's\ndone!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nThe Note of Idealism.\n\nThe Christian preacher is not only the accuser of men and the\nambassador of reconciliation; he is also the Prophet of a new order.\n\"Go, preach, the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand,\" so runs his commission.\nHis message must convey more than the promise of a deliverance from the\n_consequences_ of sin.  It must proclaim new possibilities for the\nindividual.  It must point to higher altitudes for the race.  The\npreacher announces a New Jerusalem descending out of heaven.  His\nministry is not to lead to the better only, but to the best.\n\nFor such preaching as this there is, deep down in the heart of man, a\ngreat hunger and thirst.  Sordid and materialistic as is the life of\nthe age, engrossed as the multitudes appear to be in the pursuit of\nmammon, of vain glory and of pleasure, there still lingers in the human\nbreast a suspicion that men were fashioned for something higher than\nthe things that, so often, first engross and then exhaust their powers.\nThe millionaire is not satisfied with his millions and, of late, has\ntold us so.  The man of pleasure is not satisfied with his pleasures,\nand, when he unburdens his secret mind, confesses his disappointment\nand disgust.  Corn, wine and oil, houses, lands and station are all the\nobjects of loathing as well as of pursuit, to those who, having won\nthem, have found out their real quality.  It is a primal instinct of\nthe race that \"the life is more than meat and the body than raiment.\"\n\nTo the student of our times there is nothing more pathetic than to\nobserve the struggles of those upon whom materialism casts its spell to\nescape from their bondage.  To aid them in this endeavour they call the\npainter, the sculptor, the dramatist, the man of letters, the player\nskilled in the language of music, and to one and all they say,\n\"Idealise!  Idealise!\"  Periods of realism in art never last long,\nthough, in a sense, realism is easier to the artist than idealism.  The\nexplanation is that it is not realism that is really in demand.  The\nartist must give us not man as he is, but as he _ought_ to be; not life\nas we know it, but life as we _would_ know it and live it, too; not the\nhuman face scarred and seamed by vices inherited from a thousand\ntainted years, but fresh, and sweet, and beautiful as it came from the\nhands of God, new washed in the dews of His infinite affection.  Even\nnature must be idealised, and the painter struggles to produce the\nperfect landscape, the sculptor to represent the perfect form.  The\nartist who mixes no imagination with his colours never holds for long\nthe public honour.  The heart of man asks for the ideal; the actual is\nnot enough.\n\nAnd to the preacher, also, these unsatisfied spirits bring the same\nrequest.  If it is not upon their lips, you may read it in the deep\nlonging of their unquiet eyes.  The age is not a happy age, and its\nlack of happiness does not arise, alone, from its sicknesses, its\nbereavements, its shattered hopes, the cruelties of \"offence's gilded\nhand.\"  Some one has said that men would be happy if it were not for\ntheir pleasures, and the saying contains a profound truth.  In this\nunhappiness they turn to see if, peradventure, the preacher can show\nthem higher and clearer heights of joy.  Sometimes, thank God! the\nvision splendid is spread before them.  It is a vision no poet or\npainter, save such as have been to the springs of the Eternal, can\ndepict, and if the glory of it find its way into the seeker's soul life\nfor him is never the same again.  But sometimes, alas! he is\ndisappointed.  The voice in the pulpit is little more than a\nsanctimonious echo of the voices of the street.  Then goes the\nsorrowing seeker hence, and lo, the tiny glimmer of hope with which he\ncame has all but been put out!\n\nFor it is a criticism one all too often hears, that the modern\npreacher, instead of asking too much, asks too little, and that, when\nhe _does_ ask for much, his asking is more for great faith than for\ngreat living from both the individual and the age.  It has been\nremarked that almost the whole of the difference between the Christian\npreacher and the heathen moralist is expressed in the statement that\nthe preacher adds to his teaching a flavour of Jewish history and\nsweetens with the promise of a future life.  Otherwise the heathen\nmoralist points as far up the mountain side as he.  There is such a\npossibility as that of preaching along too low a level.  It is an ill\nthing when the preacher becomes content with the straw and forgets the\ncrown.\n\nFor the preacher like the rest of men may become enslaved to things and\npowers material.  \"Where there is no vision the people perish,\" and of\nvision, in the larger sense, the preacher may share the general\npoverty.  After all, even he belongs to the age into which he was born,\nand it needs qualities that are none too common to resist the\ninfluences of the times and of environment.  Beside all this, are there\nnot personal experiences in the lives of all of us which make it hard\nto keep our eyes upon the stars?  We think of the local preacher\nspending his week in the market or behind the counter, in office or\nmine or factory or in the field wrestling with Nature for the bread\nthat perisheth.  We think of the minister often worried, almost\ndistracted, by \"the care of the churches,\" by the crabbed foolishness\nand miserable jealousies of contentious men and women.  We must\nremember that for many a preacher life is not a May Day festival, but a\nquestion and a struggle.  Surely the wonder is _not_ that sometimes the\nman in the pulpit speaks in a minor key, but that, under all the\nconditions of his life, we hear from him so much of the higher music as\nwe do.  The memory comes to us as we write of a man who preached the\nGospel for years with the cruel disease of cancer gnawing at his\nvitals.  We can recall others who came to proclaim the golden year from\ndomestic circles blighted by the debauchery and vice of children but\ntoo well beloved.  Did these men sometimes speak falteringly, and with\nhesitation, the message in which they asked and promised glorious\nthings?  Did they, from the very darkness of the clouds lowering above\nthem, see only the lower slopes of the Mountains of the Lord?  Who\ncould wonder?  The preacher is but a man!\n\nYes, the preacher is but a man, and as a man finds out something\nelse:--That, after all, it is not out of his experiences of life, nor\nfrom the influences of his time, nor from both together that the\ngreatest hindrance to altitude of tone in his preaching arises.  As a\nman _is in heart and life_ so in some degree he preaches.  The call of\nthe Gospel is to perfection, and the perfect man is not yet, though\nmany there are, even in these days, whose lives are a constant and\nnoble struggle to reach this far-off mark.  Is it strange that\nsometimes a preacher's own failure to gain the wished for heights\nshould cause him to put before others possibilities, not, indeed,\naccording to his own low level of attainment, but still far below those\nhe is sent to declare?  Living on low levels means inevitably preaching\non low levels, though, as a man's preaching is derived from higher\nsources than are found in his own soul, his call to others ought always\nto be of higher things than he has, himself, attained.\n\nHere, then, are some of the reasons why it often happens that our\npreaching lacks the elevation of high idealism.  This idealism is none\nthe less needed that there are reasons for its absence.  Along these\nlines lies one of the great struggles of the preacher's life, which is\nso triumphantly to resist the influences of his day and the depression\nof his personal experiences, so to live his own life that he shall\nalways be able to act as a joyful guide to the Alps of God.\n\nAnd what are these higher heights to which he has to point his fellows?\nWe ask the question first as concerning the individual and then as\nconcerning the nations.  We shall surely find it easy to obtain an\nanswer to the inquiry in both its forms.\n\n\"_Easy!_\"  Yes; for the heights designed for us to reach are so clearly\nmapped out in the teaching, and especially in the life of Him whose\nword the preacher comes forward to declare, and whose example it is his\nglorious employment to put before the world.  \"The prize of the mark of\nour high calling\" is the utter conquest of sin in the heart, its\neradication not only in branch but in very root.  Our goal is the\nutterly blameless life.  It is more glorious, even, than this.  It is\nthe realisation in their perfection, not of negative virtues alone, but\nof virtues positive, active, aggressive.  It is in brief the \"perfect\nman in Christ Jesus.\"\n\nAnd of what use is any lower understanding or interpretation of the\npurpose of Christ?  Indeed, is any lower interpretation possible on the\nface of things?  We cannot bring ourselves to believe that He would of\nset purpose come to secure a _partial_ triumph in the subjects of His\ngrace.  We speak of the difficulties of this our doctrine, but, after\nall, greater difficulties would have to be overcome in consenting to\nany lower conception of the divine intent.  Try to imagine the Master\neffecting the saving of a soul with the design that it shall still hold\nto some remains of former vices, to some of its old lusts, of its\nancient enmities.  Imagine Him, again, agreeing that a man shall\ncontinue to be the prey of evil tempers, of covetousness, of jealousy,\nof pride and falseness.  Imagine Him entering into a tacit compromise\nwith the forces of evil, that He will take _so much_ and expect no more\nin the worship and ownership and conquest of those for whom He died.\nThe idea is unthinkable!  Jesus Christ came, suffered, bled, died, rose\nagain, and ascended up on high that once more the eyes of God might\nlook upon _a perfect man_.\n\nNow, all this sounds very old-fashioned and very much like the teaching\nthat we have heard, and perhaps in varying degrees disparaged, from the\nlips of those whom we call, sometimes with a slight, but none the less\nreal, touch of sarcasm, \"holiness men.\"  How afraid we are that any one\nshould ask us to be too good!  But the teaching of Scriptural holiness\nwas once one of the glories of Methodism and clear in the forefront of\nher preaching.  To-day, perhaps, we hear less concerning that gospel\nthan once we did.  Is it absolutely certain that this fact always works\nout to the advantage of the preacher and his people?  To-day, also, we\nhear less concerning the joy of the Christian life than formerly; less\nconcerning new triumphs in the conversion of sinners than in days it is\nglorious to remember.  To-day men complain, as we have already heard,\nthat the preachers ask too little and do not bid them look so high as\nsomething in their bosoms tells them they ought to look.  The preaching\nof Scriptural holiness has been discredited, it must be confessed, by\nthe language into which it has often been thrown; by a disposition to\ncensoriousness in those who have given it a large place in their\nministry; by a disposition, too, on the part of its preachers to label\nas sins many things which were capable of innocent use and enjoyment,\nto cut out of life more than they sought to put in, dealing rather in\nprohibitions than in inspirations.  This doctrine has suffered, again,\nmore than most, from the inconsistencies of its apostles, as was indeed\ninevitable and should have been expected, for the higher a man's\npreaching the more clearly his personal imperfections are brought out\nby force of contrast, which may be rather to the glory of the preaching\nthan to its discredit.  Say, however, all that can be said in this\ndirection concerning the doctrine of Christian Perfection; the ideals\nof the Gospel for human living are no lower than the highest word the\nPerfectionist has ever uttered.  These ideals, as put before us and\nrequired of us, are part of the message of the Cross, and the preaching\nwhich does not include and enforce them is incomplete and cannot\nbecome, in the highest sense, effective in the accomplishment of its\ndivine purpose.  When a man's preaching presents ideals higher than\nthose of the Sermon on the Mount; when he asks for a whiter purity, a\nmore embracing charity, a nobler style of living than are required by\nJesus Christ, _then_ will have come the time to call a halt.  Up to\nthis point he has behind him not only divine permission but divine\ncommand.  By his ears, if he but listen, may be heard, also, the voices\nof men who are weary of the valleys and the swamps, and who long to\nclimb the heights and pierce the clouds that hold their vision from the\nskies.  We need a new Puritanism, and it must not be a Puritanism\nprincipally of prohibitions, as was the old.  It must be a Puritanism\nin which all the glories possible to heart and mind and soul are set\nforth in charm and beauty.\n\nBut the preacher has a message for society, as well as for the\nindividual, and it is essential to the highest uses of that message\nthat sublimer notes should be struck than are commonly heard.  Jesus\nChrist showed an interest in trade, and the sellers of doves and\nchangers of money heard from Him, one day, words of such a sort as made\ntheir ears to tingle.  The preacher must not be afraid to insist on\nperfect integrity, perfect honesty, and even perfect brotherhood in\ncommerce.  We have heard somewhere the story of a business man in\nBrighton to whom, one day, a customer chanced to speak concerning F. W.\nRobertson--perhaps, taking one thing with another the most influential\npreacher of the Victorian era.  Leading his client into a little room\nbehind the shop he pointed, with these words, to a portrait upon the\nwall: \"That is F. W. Robertson, and when, standing behind the counter,\nI feel a temptation to do a dishonest thing in trade, I come in here\nand look up at that face.\"  What a tribute this to a great ministry\nwhich had its message for the office and the shop and turned commerce\nand handicraft into great religious acts.  To the world of industry the\nmessenger of Christ must also bring the new ideals he has learned.  Why\nshould the relationships of master and servant, of capital and labour,\nbe poisoned by suspicion and marred by covetousness, oppression,\nevasion of mutual obligations?  The problem to be solved in this\ntwentieth century is probably this of the relations between the man\nwith money to spend and the man with work to sell.  Ah, if only Jesus\nChrist were President of the Board of Trade!  Paul was not afraid to\nlift up his voice on these extremely practical subjects, and even now,\nthe sixth chapter of Ephesians is far from out of date: \"Servants,\" he\nsays, turning to the one class, \"be obedient to them that are your\nmasters .... not with eye-service as men-pleasers, but as the servants\nof Christ, doing the will of God from the heart.\"  To the masters also,\nhe has something to say: \"And, ye masters, do the same things unto\nthem, forbearing threatening, knowing that your Master also is in\nheaven; neither is there respect of persons with Him.\"  St. James, that\ngreat practical homilist, could not be silent here.  Of all who ever\naddressed the capitalist upon his responsibilities surely never one\nspoke more strongly than did he.  \"Go to, now, ye rich men, weep and\nhowl for your miseries that shall come upon you.....  Behold, the hire\nof the labourers who have reaped down your fields, which is of you kept\nback by fraud, crieth: and the cries of them which have reaped are\nentered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth.\"  Here is denunciation\nhot and stirring, and the preacher may at times have to denounce, and\nwhen the time comes, must face that duty manfully for the sake of God\nand men.  On this page, however, we plead not for denunciation but for\nidealism,--idealism supported by the truths of the Fatherhood of God\nand the Brotherhood of Man, and enforced by all the tender meanings of\nthe Cross.\n\nFor the world of statesmanship, again, the preacher has a teaching of\nidealism, which is a very different thing from the preaching of party\npolitics, which has done more harm a thousand times than any good it\nhas ever effected.  In the nation as Christ would have it there should\nbe no jealousy between class and class; no oppression of the poor by\nthe rich; no reproach for either honest poverty or honest wealth.  In\nsuch a state there would be a chance for every man.  Government would\nnot mean tyranny; liberty would not mean licence.  There would be\npurity of administration.  There would be consecration of national\nresources to the good of all.  War, by such a state, would be as\nimpossible as it is now imminent.  In such a state, again, sermons on\nthe text, \"Our country right or wrong,\" would neither find preachers to\ndeliver them nor audiences to listen to them.  When the New Jerusalem\nis built in England, the slum, the gin palace, the workhouse, and the\ngaol will be things of the past.  \"Thus saith the Lord of Hosts; there\nshall yet old men and old women dwell in the streets of Jerusalem, and\nevery man with his staff in his hand for very age.  And the streets of\nthe city shall be full of boys and girls playing in the streets\nthereof.\"  Oh, the dream is overpowering in its glory; and it is not a\ndream, but a prophecy from Calvary to the sorrowing nations of a sinful\nworld!\n\nSo the errand of the preacher is to declare the Golden Age for which\nmen have longed with, oh, such longing! amid the sins, and crimes, and\nmiseries which have made up so much of human history.  Of this so\ngreatly desired time have they dreamed.  To bring it in they have\nschemed and laboured, bled and died.  They have thought to hasten its\ndawn by the founding of \"Utopias,\" of \"Merrie Englands,\" by many a\npromising, but disappointing device.  There is but one man who can tell\nthem how it must come--how indeed it will come--and he is the man who\nhas sat at the feet of Jesus Christ; who has seen His arms extended\nwide upon the Cross and learned those politics in which eternity is\nset.  The Golden Age will come when the world shall listen to him, and\ngive itself to the practice of that old doctrine which is to be the\ncreation not only of a new Heaven, but, also, of a new Earth.\n\nBut the preacher must do more than formulate the divine command; more\nthan paint glowing pictures of glorious possibilities.  It is required\nthat his idealism shall be shown to be practicable.  It is of no use to\ntell a drunkard that Christ wants sobriety, or a liar that the Lord\nwants truth in the inward parts; it is of no use preaching about the\nconquest of temper and of passion; about the crucifixion of\ncovetousness and envy and jealousy; about patience, gentleness,\nkindness, love, unless, along with the demands of this new scheme of\nliving, the great evangelical watchwords and promises ring strong and\ntrue.  The glory of the preacher is that he, alone of those who bring\nforth programmes for the lives of men, can tell us how his programme\nmay be carried out.  He has a wonderful authority given unto him in his\ndealings with the weak and erring.  He can make to every man who gives\nhimself to Christ, and to the living of the life He asks, the promise\nthat Christ will give to him nothing less than His own very self.  To\nany man who tremblingly, tearfully \"makes up his mind to try,\" the\npreacher may pledge his Lord in guarantees which will be honoured to\nthe very uttermost.  _Power_!  There is God's for his promising.\n_Grace_!  There is Christ's for his disposal.  He is the almoner of an\ninfinite bounty.  Then to the preacher there comes from his own vision\na courage which he can communicate to others.  No other man sees such\npossibilities in human nature as he, for he looks on man in Jesus\nChrist, and discerns better things in him than man had hoped for in\nhimself.  He beholds, also, the Spirit of God at work in the world;\nhears His footsteps as He goes to and fro in the land.  Hence he can\ncry to the nations to lift up their head, knowing that \"the Lord\nOmnipotent reigneth.\"  He is the idealist whose ideals--more\n\"impossible\" than all the dreams of moralists and poets--are the true\npractical politics of individual and national life.  The time is ripe\nfor a new preaching of the possibilities of humanity, for a new setting\nforth of what life and character, personal and national, may be, and\n_must_ be, to please Him and realise the blessing the Creator had it in\nHis heart to give to man when first He sent him forth in the glory of\nHis image.  For such preaching, we have already said, men are waiting,\nlistening, longing.  They wait, too, for a new declaration of the high\nprovisions of help available for human endeavour.  Men instinctively\nanticipate that the ideals of God concerning them will be high, but\nthey anticipate, also instinctively, that the provision for the\nrealisation of these ideals will be sufficient.  They do not ask that,\nfor the sake of human weakness, God shall make honesty less than\nhonest; truth less than true; purity less than pure, but they do ask\nthat for all these things He shall give grace and guidance.  Does our\npreaching answer these instinctive expectations, these deep longings,\nthese inborn hopes in those to whom we are sent?  Do we truly put\nbefore them that high life their spirits yearn to live?  Do we show\nthem the path \"o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent,\" to the\nheights that kiss the stars?\n\nIf we do, well; but if not:--Then, perhaps, we should not wonder, nor\nbe astonished, if pews are empty, if church membership declines, if men\nsay that there is little profit in coming to hear thoughts no higher\nthan their own.  They look for the preacher to ask for better, higher,\nharder things than all their other leaders.  If he fail in this his\nchurch has but little to draw them within its doors.  Practical\nidealism is essential to effective and successful preaching.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nThe Note of Edification.\n\nThe preacher is appointed for the upbuilding of the Church and of the\nindividual believer upon \"the foundation of the apostles and prophets,\nJesus Christ Himself being the chief corner stone.\"  Upon this\nfoundation, with almost infinite care, with untiring labour and\nsolicitude and prayerfulness, has he to rear \"a temple fitly framed\ntogether\" of \"gold, silver and precious stones;\" upon this foundation\nhe has to build the fabric of saintly character in men.  Only that\npreacher is truly successful who, in the end, is able humbly to claim\nto have been in this sense a \"wise master-builder;\" who can point to\nthe results of his labours in the beauty and strength of the churches\nin which he has toiled, in the saintliness of the men and women to whom\nhe has spoken the re-creating, re-edifying word.\n\nNow, in our day, it is, perhaps, specially needful that this part of\nthe preacher's duty should be particularly emphasised.  Of the Church\nit has to be said that she has fallen on somewhat evil times, for there\nis evidence of the growth of a tendency toward a Churchless\nChristianity.  Many there are who take the view that union with the\nChurch is of small importance to the development of Christian faith and\ncharacter.  There are more who regard such union as something which,\nwhile it may have certain advantages, is nevertheless entirely optional\nwith the Christian believer.  Again and again have we been told that\nChristianity consists of belief in Jesus Christ resulting in an attempt\nto imitate Him, and that, as this belief and this attempt can be\nachieved outside of any organised religious community, a man may be\nessentially a Christian without being a member of the Church.  The\nreasons for this attitude are not far to seek.  Among them are a\nselfishness which fears the sacrifice that membership of the Church\nmight involve; a slothfulness anticipating with apprehension the\npossible demands for Christian service which the Fellowship might make,\nand a lack of real intensity and enthusiasm in conviction, which\nhesitates to make an out-and-out stand for Christ and truth.\n\nFrom the same causes, in all ages, men have kept outside the organised\nflock of God and, therefore, such reasons as these need not greatly\nalarm us.  But there is another objection to joining the Church which,\nalas! is often heard, which peculiarly concerns the preacher and ought\nto lead him to much careful inquiry.  It is that objection which quotes\nagainst the Church her own condition.  It is alleged that, nowadays,\nthe faith of the Church is in a state of flux; that her enthusiasm has\ncooled to the point of chill; that her members are in such small degree\nbetter than the men and women outside their society that their company\ndoes not promise any moral and spiritual help to a man in search of\nsaving and ennobling companionships.  It is said, moreover, that the\nChurch is so divided, sub-divided and sub-_sub_-divided that it is\nimpossible to be sure as to where the true Church may be found.\nFinally, we are told that in all probability if Jesus Christ came to\nearth in the flesh, He would in these times be found outside the\nsanctuaries in which His name is supposed to be honoured.\n\nNow, many of these assertions may surely be shown to be the result of\nmisunderstanding, of delusion, even of prejudice, and so should not be\ntaken too much to heart.  They may serve, however, to remind us of two\ntruths which ought to be often in mind.  The first is that Christianity\nneeds the Church; the second, that the Church needs Christianity.  As\nto the former proposition:--The Church is the Christian organism.  It\nis principally through her agencies and activities that the purposes of\nChristianity are to be realised.  This is true not only of those\nuniversal purposes which include the ideals of world-wide sovereignty,\nbut, let men say what they will, it is true of those which relate to\nthe realisation of Christ's will in the individual soul.  It is not the\nfact that men find it as easy to live the Christian life outside the\nChurch as within.  This is sufficiently demonstrated by experience.\nPersonal religion grows in the fellowship and the sacrifice, in the\nlabours, the strength and inspiration consequent upon membership in a\ngreat and imperial family.\n\nBut the Church needs Christianity, and this, too, the preacher, for her\nsake, must deeply and constantly realise.  The best antidote to the\ntendency toward a Churchless Christianity will be found, not in\nargument or command; certainly not in denunciations addressed to those\nwho are outside the fold, but in the realisation by the Church herself\nof her glorious possibilities both as to character, labour and\nconquest.  What is needed to save the Church from the opposing\ninfluences of our times is simply more of what she _may_ have _if she\nwill_.  She needs a definite and not a nebulous belief.  She needs a\nliving and burning enthusiasm; a joy that will not be silent, and a\nhope that will not cower before the pessimism of the age.  She needs\nsuch a piety as shall furnish a splendid contrast to the lives of all\naround her.  In short, she must realise the ideals of her Founder, and\nevery glorious prophecy shall be fulfilled.  All the nations of the\nworld shall flow into her.  Kings shall come to the brightness of her\nrising.  Men shall flock to her courts as doves to glowing windows from\nthe cold and darkness of the wintry night.\n\nSo, for the sake of the world which cannot spare the Church, and for\nthe sake of the Church which cannot dispense with what the preacher has\nto give, it is required that this duty of the Christian ministry be\nemphasised.  Another reason must be stated that it may be\nunderlined:--Faith, piety and enthusiasm, labour, sacrifice and victory\nare vital to the inner health and joy of the Church herself.  _This_,\ntoo, the preacher must remember.  Solemn, indeed, is the obligation\nresting upon him, and solemnly have the great preachers of all ages\ntaken this responsibility to heart.  \"The care of the churches!\"--how\nheavily it lay upon the shoulders of those early ambassadors whose\nconfessions of fear concerning failure are written in the epistles.\nHow it has driven to the Mercy Seat for help and guidance those whose\nwork it has been in troublous times, to keep the flock of God committed\nto their custody!  The feeding of the sheep in the wilderness, the care\nof the lambs, the strengthening of the weak, the endless, patient,\nprayerful striving needed in the pursuit of erring, foolish, falling\nones, that all may be presented perfect in Christ Jesus--what demands\ndo these make upon the preacher's noblest powers!  In the dressing and\npolishing, to change the figure, of each quarried stone that the result\nmay be seen in a building after the similitude of a palace, flashing in\nthe light of God--here has lain the task in which many a glorious life\nhas been gloriously spent; for even Jesus could not entrust to a man a\ngrander or more onerous task than this!\n\nAnd what manner of preaching is needed for the service of this saving\nand edifying end?  It must surely be a preaching _of_ the Church _to_\nthe Church.  It is to be questioned whether we have not largely failed\nto place before our people the New Testament doctrine of the Church.\nWith such a failure may be associated another:--To emphasise duly the\nimportance of those sacraments which are the inheritance of the Church\nfrom age to age.  Can we deny that there is among our members a\ntendency to view very lightly the privileges and obligations of their\nmembership in what we call--we have sometimes thought unhappily and\nwith unfortunate effect--our societies?  Again, can it be denied that\namongst us as a people the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper is\nundervalued?  Faithfulness to the Church and to her sacraments run\ntogether.  How many are there who have but the dimmest possible\nconception of what the Church is and of what membership in the Church\nreally signifies and involves?  There is much work to be done\nhere--spade work we might almost call it--for the ground has hardly yet\nbeen broken amongst us.  May we venture a suggestion that, among things\ninherited from an earlier day, the word \"societies\" as signifying\nchurches should be dropped in favour of the nobler word, and that the\npreacher, in particular, should cease to use it in this relationship?\nUnless we are wrong in our reading of history this use of the term grew\nout of the view, long held by the founder of Methodism, that while the\nAnglican community was the _Church_, the assemblies collected by\nhimself were merely groups of people meeting for mutual help in\nspiritual things.  The time came, no doubt, when he would have been\nwilling to allow to these assemblies, as to the great community of\nwhich they were the individual congregations, the title for which we\nplead; though he himself it must be remembered, remained a member of\nthe Church of England until his death.  Let the preacher take very high\nground on this matter.  This little band of lowly men and women meeting\nin their humble sanctuary by the wayside for intercourse on spiritual\nthings, for the hearing of the word of life, for mutual encouragement\nin the celestial pilgrimage, for praise and prayer and breaking of\nbread; this little company \"gathered together in My name,\" Jesus being\n\"in the midst;\" this little circle upon which is shed abroad the Holy\nGhost for the teaching, comforting, sanctifying and anointing of the\nheavenly Bride--this little company, we say, is more than a \"society.\"\nIts members form a _church_, and theirs are the glory, the privileges,\nthe obligations of that \"upper room\" of eternal memory.  Let them be\ntold this--kept in remembrance of it--led to delight in it--encouraged\nto glory concerning it.  Let it be laid down that it is not for this\nvillage fellowship to thank any man or woman, however exalted his or\nher social station, for condescending to membership therein, but that\nthe honour of the association lies in being permitted an entrance into\nthe fold, small as is the number of the flock and lowly as its members\nmay be.  We are confident that the scattered churches of our name need\nlifting into a realisation of their high dignity in Christ Jesus.  Of\nall the subjects waiting for earnest study, and to which we as\npreachers, both ministers and laymen, need for the sake of present day\nnecessities to turn our minds, none is more important than this.  The\nChurch can only retain, or rather, perhaps, we ought to have said--can\nonly enter into her power through self-realisation.  _Here_ is need for\na systematic educational work, and, should it be left undone, we must\nnot be astonished if our members wear the bonds of their union lightly,\nand easily find ways out of a fellowship whose true significance they\nhave never understood.  Another eventuality, too, must not astonish\nus:--The Church of England _does_ hold and preach a doctrine of the\nChurch, preaches it diligently; preaches it, sometimes, with such\nlimitations of application as we may well resent.  The Roman Catholics\ndo the same, and with limitations that are still more uncompromising.\nWe of the Free Churches must not be astonished if, as a result of\ndefinite and positive teaching within other walls and a lack of such\nteaching within our own, the people drift away from us.  _To build up\nthe Church we must preach the Church_.  She needs the sense of herself.\n\nImportant, however, as is the enunciation of the doctrine of the\nChurch, the work of her edification will demand that the preacher have\nmany other things to say.  We have already referred to the presentation\nof a high idealism as essential to the completeness of the Christian\nmessage.  It is indispensable to the adequate accomplishment of this\nduty that the preacher give himself to a systematic exposition of the\nScriptures.  May we even dare to say that it will be necessary for him\nto devote much of his strength to what has been termed doctrinal\npreaching?  That these words will have a terrible sound in many ears we\nare aware.  It is very unpopular, nowadays, to lay emphasis on the\nnecessity for creed as well as for conduct--for creed, indeed, for the\nsake of conduct.  We will, nevertheless, make bold to remark that one\nof the great desiderata of the day is a revival of expository\npreaching, while another, equally great, is a renaissance of doctrinal\npreaching.  There is not too much theology taught in the churches, but\ntoo little.  We are told that the preacher's first business is to treat\nof what are called \"living issues\"; that he should, above all, exalt\nconduct and charity as the great concerns of the soul.  It is contended\nthat men need guidance on public questions and that the preacher, as\nthe representative of the Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Church, should\nendeavour to meet that need.  Of course there is truth in it all, but\nit is also true that men need, most of all, the knowledge of God, and\nthat, whatever bewilderment may exist in relation to public questions\nand moral issues, there is bewilderment, even greater, as to \"the faith\nonce delivered to the saints.\"  There is no truly edifying preaching\nthat is without theology.  By such knowledge is the Church built up,\nand the preacher will teach it to his people in the form in which it\ncan be assimilated.  One thing he will surely not forget:--That upon\nhim rests a great responsibility, not only in regard to the Church of\nto-day, but also concerning the Church of to-morrow, as now gathered\nbefore him in the persons of the young people preparing for life and\nservice.  He ought, certainly, to provide strengthening food for them\nin view of responsibilities to come.  It is a great charge, this of\nbuilding up the body of Christ, and it is upon us all to ask ourselves\nto what extent we have endeavoured to discharge this obligation.  We\nadmit that the temptations to evade it are many.  Doctrinal and\nexpository preaching require so much thought, such careful preparation,\nsuch scrupulous exactness in expression.  It is little wonder that,\nwearied by other activities, the preacher sometimes seeks for subjects\nwhich can be treated with greater ease and less expenditure of\nintellectual effort than those we have indicated.\n\nAnd such wonder as we may have is further diminished when we recollect\nthat the idea is very commonly held that the people do not want\npreaching of this type; that, even within the churches indeed, they\nprefer being _pleased_ to being taught.  Possibly this is not so true\nas has been assumed.  Perhaps again, in that degree in which it _is_\ntrue, the lesson to be learned from the fact is not that such preaching\nshould be withheld, but rather that an effort should be made to invest\nit with elements of interest and attractiveness which have possibly too\noften been lacking.  On this point we will have something to say later\non.  Meanwhile we are open to maintain that people do not dislike\nexposition and theology _as such_.  The late Doctor McLaren was an\nexpository preacher, and his sermons were as charming as fairy tales,\nmultitudes flocking, through a long course of years, to hear them.  C.\nH. Spurgeon was a doctrinal preacher, and untold thousands hung\nentranced upon his lips.  Each man built up a great congregation, in\nwhich the fruits of the spirit flourished in a perpetual harvest of\nvirtues, works and sacrifice.  To-day the greatest churches in London\nare, almost without exception, those whose members sit at the feet of\ngreat preachers who are also, according to their separate schools,\ngreat theologians and masters in the art of interpreting the\nScriptures.  We remember as we write a cold and depressing Sabbath\nevening last autumn when we turned into Westminster Chapel.  Only a few\nyears ago this great sanctuary was a wilderness in which might be\nrealised the tragedy that is contained in the phrase \"a down-town\nchurch.\"  At this moment it is the home of a mighty spiritual\nfellowship.  On the night of our visit the immense temple was crowded\nfrom floor to ceiling.  The congregation had obviously been drawn from\nall ranks and conditions of society.  Professional men sat side by side\nwith horny-handed sons of toil, fine ladies with servant girls, the old\nwith the young.  What new device of sensationalism had brought them\ntogether?  What startling announcement had been flung out over the city\nto attract this mighty concourse?  Absolutely none!  The sermon was a\nclosely reasoned doctrinal address, full of quotations from the\nScriptures and of comparison of passage with passage.  It was a sermon\nto _tax_ attention.  We mention this experience to show that doctrinal\npreaching need not mean empty sanctuaries, as is often asserted.  Here\nwas a great congregation and, better still, here was a living Church.\n\nA further duty of the preacher, that the message may become approved in\nthe building up of the Church, is that of impressing the demands of\nJesus Christ upon those who bear His name.  Preaching needs to be more\nexacting than it is.  There are vast multitudes in the Church whose\nreligious life--if indeed they have such a life--is absolutely\nparasitical.  They render no service; they offer no sacrifice; their\nonly confession of faith is a more or less intermittent attendance at\nthe public sessions of worship.  By such people, one has humourously\nsaid, the Church seems to be regarded as a Pullman car bound for glory.\nTheir chief desires are that the train may run so slowly as to enable\nthem to enjoy the scenery by the way; that the time-bill shall allow of\nfrequent and lengthy stoppages on the journey, and _especially_ that\nthe conclusion of the trip shall be postponed to as late an hour as\npossible, as they labour under no extravagant anxiety to come to its\nend.  Are we uncharitable in suspecting that the chief reason many of\nthese people have for making some degree of preparation for Paradise is\nthat they cannot remain on earth and that Heaven is, on the whole, to\nbe preferred to the only other country available?  Ah! the preacher has\nmuch of this kind of material on his hands and, notwithstanding its\nquality, the commission to build it up into strength and beauty still\napplies.\n\nClearly, in such cases, the duty of the edifying preacher is not to\nhide, but _to emphasise_ the demands of Jesus Christ for active\nparticipation in some form of Christian service.  \"The harvest truly is\nplenteous but the labourers are few,\" and altogether apart from the\nadvantages to be gained by the Church from the bringing in of the\nsheaves, there is a benefit to be won by the reaper as he garners the\ngrain, which is entirely beyond calculation.  Our fathers made it their\nbusiness in the case of every new convert to find him \"something to\ndo.\"  Sometimes the results were unfortunate, in that men were put to\nwork they were not qualified to attempt; but the new employment kept\nmany a man from falling, and often helped to make useful and polished\ninstruments out of very unpromising material.  Nearly a thousand years\nago Peter the Hermit passed like a flame of fire across the provinces\nof Europe calling upon men to wrest the Holy places from the hands of\nthe Saracen.  In countless thousands they responded to his call, even\nlittle children arising and pressing eastward on the great emprise.\nSurely there is need enough for crusading to-day.  Surely, too, there\nare multitudes who, for their own souls' sake, and for the sake of the\nChurch, would be all the better for the health and vigour which a\nlittle crusading would bring.  Upon us rests the obligation in Christ's\nname to call these hitherto unemployed and ineffective ones to the\nstandard of the Cross.\n\nAnd to this demand for service it is the preacher's duty to add, in\nview of the advantages to follow in the life and character, the faith\nand influence of the Church, an equally strong demand for sacrifice.\nIt is no kindness of the pulpit to cut down the requirements of the\nLord upon the time, the strength, the comfort and the substance of\nthose who profess themselves His followers.  He that would have life\neternal \"let him go and sell all that he hath and give to the poor.\"\n\"He that will be My disciple, let him deny himself, and take up his\ncross and follow Me.\"  \"He that would save his life the same shall lose\nit.\"  In these figurative words lies one secret of spiritual growth and\nhealth.\n\nSo then it comes to this:--That the edification of the Church and of\nthe individual believer, so far as it forms part of the task of this,\nour messenger, is to be accomplished by the faithful preaching of such\nthings as the Master has left on record for the learning of His\nfollowers, and by calling them to make proof of truth in the exercise\nof Christian activity, self-denial, sacrifice and self-culture.  We\nbelieve, notwithstanding all that may be said to the contrary, that the\nChurch and her children long to hear this message and that they will\nrespond to it.  Once more we admit that to the preacher, it may not be\nthe easiest kind of preaching to attempt, for here he will soon be\namong the deep things of God, and he will have to ask for great\nendeavours and great surrenders.  But the divine commission is in his\nhands, and has he not undertaken to speak what God shall teach him\n\n  \"Till we have built Jerusalem\n  In England's green and pleasant land\"?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nThe Note of Cheer\n\nThe chapter now to be added is written under the influence of a Sabbath\nafternoon service in which, a few hours ago, we occupied a pew.  The\nscene was a village chapel among the mountains of the North of England.\nThe preacher was a layman well advanced in age, who told us that, for\nfive-and-forty years, he had been coming from the head of the circuit\nto take appointments in the village.  The sermon was not eloquent.  It\nwas neither learned nor profound.  It gave no evidence of any great\nacquaintance with modern thought.  There was absolutely no attempt at\nexegesis.  Indeed, the discourse would have failed to satisfy most of\nthose elementary canons upon which the homiletical professors lay such\nstress.  Yet, one great excellence it had, which, to its simple-minded\nauditors, more than atoned for all its many imperfections:--It was\neffective; it was successful.  We came away thanking God for the\ntestimony we had heard.\n\nAnd herein lay the success of this local brother's unpretentious\ndiscourse:--_It cheered us_, one and all.  Faces brightened and\ndrooping heads were lifted up as the old man pursued his way.  The last\nhymn was the heartiest of all, not because, as is sometimes the case,\nthe people were encouraged by the thought of approaching liberation,\nbut because of the spiritual \"uplift\" they had realised.  We heard a\nhappy buzz of pleasant talk from young and old as they poured through\nthe door to assemble in friendly groups for mutual \"good-days\" on the\npavement in front of the little temple.  With most of them we were well\nacquainted.  Some were aged and infirm.  Others found the struggle of\nlife a hard one.  One pew was filled with mourners who, during the\nlatest week, had stood around an open grave.  There were Christian\nworkers to whom recent days had brought disappointments and\nweariness--labourers in the vineyard who had much to try their faith,\nfor religious work in the villages has many difficulties in these days\nwhen the great towns attract so many of our most hopeful young people\nfrom the lanes to the streets.  The widow was there, the orphan, the\npoor, the man who had failed in life.  Ah! those people had come\ntogether bringing with them to the sanctuary much doubt and care and\nperplexity and fear.  It was good to watch them as the preacher went\non; good to feel that these hearts were losing their loads, these minds\ntheir anxieties.  \"Not a great discourse,\" the critic would have said.\nPerhaps not--from some standpoints.  Having reached the end of fifty\nyears of preaching, this white-haired patriarch had long given up the\nidea of great discourses.  To him the Master had said, \"Comfort ye,\ncomfort ye My people,\" and he had walked long, long miles up the\nmountain side to do it.  _Pace_ the critic!  This preaching was _the\nvery thing_ for those needy folk this wintry afternoon.\n\nAnd now, in recollection of that blessed sermon, and under its gracious\ninfluence, we are strengthened to assert that it is an essential of the\nmessage that it contain good cheer for those who need it.  The preacher\nis more than the accuser of men in Christ's stead; more, even, than the\nmouthpiece of a divine invitation.  His task is not completed in the\nedifying of churches, in the building up of individual souls in faith\nand doctrine and righteousness.  Jesus saw the sorrow of the world,\nanticipated the afflictions through which men would have to pass and\nthe burdens they would have to bear.  \"He was touched with the feeling\nof our infirmities,\" He drank of our bitter cup.  Our griefs were in\nHis mind when He sent His preachers forth.  To be the agents of a great\npurpose of consolation, ministers of cheer and encouragement to\nhard-pressed and burdened men and women to the end of time were they\nsent!\n\nAnd for this work of consolation He not only gave a commission but He\nfurnished, as well, an example to all who should ever preach His word.\nSurely one great secret of the wondrous effectiveness of that brief\nministry lay in the fact that while, as we have seen, it spoke to the\nconsciences of men, bringing home the truths of righteousness and\njudgment; while it set before them the way of spiritual salvation and\nformulated the demands and conditions thereof, indicating the higher\npath, the strait gate and the narrow way, it was also directed to the\nbruised hearts and broken spirits of those who attended His steps.  We\nare told, after all, but very little of the words and deeds of Jesus\nduring those eventful years in which He trod the highways and byeways\nof the land breaking the bread of life from city to city.  Of the\nperiod passed in Nazareth in preparation for the strenuous days to come\nwe are told nothing at all.  The world, it is said, would hardly\ncontain the books if all had been written down.  But enough is told to\ngive us visions of those unrecorded days, and to show that He was a\ncheering Christ, a messenger of comfort--this Saviour of ours.  Healing\nwas in His words.  \"Did not our hearts burn within us while He talked\nwith us by the way, and while He opened to us the Scriptures?\" said,\none to another, those two disciples who, with saddened countenances,\nhad set out together to Emmaus on that troubled day.  Watch Him yonder\nin the house at Bethany, what time bereavement casts its shadow upon\nthe dwelling.  \"And He took little children in His arms and blessed\nthem.\"  Here, again, is a whole history of tenderness.  From this one\nact a flood of light streams backward and forward upon His whole\nearthly life, and we can see the kindly glance that brought the little\nones around Him.  We can hear the gentle voice that dispelled their\nshyness and gave confidence to their hearts.  Even in that old time,\nand in the quiet and dreamy East, life had many cares.  There were push\nand drive and hard and grinding rivalry even then.  Those days had\ntheir economic questions as well as ours.  It was only by hardest\nstruggle that many a cupboard was furnished and many a table spread;\nfor poverty is no new thing, and sorrow, affliction, oppression, dread\nand death are as old as the hills.  We read of the beggar by the\nwayside, of Lazarus writhing in hunger and smitten with sores on the\nthreshold of Dives, who wore purple and fine linen and fared\nsumptuously every day.  The widow's house was robbed; the orphan was\ncheated of his small inheritance; life, even for the fortunate, went\nmuch as it does now--the music of gladness to-day, the solemn tones of\nthe dirge to-morrow.  How gracious to many a hearer would be that\nSermon on the Mount with its passages for the special blessing of\nperplexed and worried souls, spoken, also, for the teaching of all who\nmay be called to stand before the children of grief and want.\n\"Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall\nwe drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?\" .... \"For your heavenly\nFather knoweth that ye have need of all these things.\" .... \"Take\ntherefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought\nfor the things of itself.\" .... \"And why take ye thought for raiment?\nConsider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they toil not, neither\ndo they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his\nglory was not arrayed like one of these.  Wherefore, if God so clothe\nthe grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the\noven, shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?\" ....\n\"Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings?  And not one of them is\nforgotten before God: But even the very hairs of your head are all\nnumbered.  Fear not, therefore: ye are of more value than many\nsparrows.\" .... \"Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap;\nwhich neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much\nmore are ye better than the fowls?\"  Think of it all!  Imagine that\ngreat multitude gathered out of the cities and villages round about.\nIt was a hard world from which they had come to hear this man of\nNazareth, and, even as they came, care had tugged at their skirts; fear\nhad rattled upon the doors of their hearts.  Think what music would be\nin that sweet new Gospel of divine providence and affection, spoken in\nthat calm and gentle voice whose every tone was vibrant with\nunderstanding, sympathy and love!  Can we not see the people as\ndarkness throws its veil across the blue Syrian sky turning once more\nto their distant homes, new hope and courage enthroned upon the\nforehead so recently seamed by care?  Can we not follow them to the\ndawning of another day, and behold their going forth, once again, to\nthe tasks of life brightly, bravely, cheerily?  To them, indeed, had\ncome glad tidings of great joy!\n\nAnd if the Master so gave Himself to this ministry of brightening the\nlives of men, His first preachers caught the lesson and went forth, the\nsame good purpose lively in their hearts.  To \"lift up the hands which\nhang down, and the feeble knees;\" to heal \"that which was lame,\" that\n\"it be not turned out of the way;\" \"to visit the widow and the\nfatherless;\" to \"speak peace\" to the people--in these happy duties lay\na large part of their work.  Dark, indeed, were those early days for\nthe infant Church; heavy the clouds above her; terrible the storms of\nhate and persecution which spent their fury upon her and scattered\nabroad her fellowship, but amidst it all more songs were heard than\nsighs, more triumphs than complaints.  In the midnight hour a strange\nnew music ran through the prison, for Paul and Silas \"prayed and sang\npraises and the prisoners heard them,\" and so, to crushed and bleeding\nsouls, even there, a breath of heavenly comfort came.  We have\nsometimes heard people talk of St. Paul in such a way as to picture one\nwho was above the tenderness wherefrom sad hearts are blessed--the\ngreat theologian, the mighty logician, the lone, strong, sublime man\nwhose self-mastery lifted him above sympathy with common men.  Great he\nwas, but great in compassion as well as in mind.  Among the watchwords\nof encouragement you will find none more inspiring than those written\nby his fettered hand.  Was it not he who wrote that assurance which has\nso often come between us and despair:--\"And we know that all things\nwork together for good to them that love God\"?  From him, also, came\nthat glowing word which has shed radiance upon many a couch of pain:\n\"For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a\nfar more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.\"  There is a more noble\npicture of the great Apostle to the Gentiles than that above referred\nto.  The ship is \"driven up and down in Adria.\"  Euroclydon roars\nthrough the rigging.  Mighty billows come crashing over the bulwarks.\n\"Neither sun, nor moon nor stars\" have \"for many days appeared.\"\nNearer and nearer the helpless craft is being swept to the cruel rocks\nof yonder savage coast.  The ship's company is in an agony of dismay.\nSuddenly from the cabin comes he of Tarsus.  \"Wherefore, sirs, be of\ngood cheer,\" he cries, above the blast, \"for I believe God.\"  Thus does\nhe summarise in one great assuring word the message learned at the foot\nof the cross.  Behind it is all the authority of God's revelation to\nhis soul upon the Damascus road!\n\nSo ministered the Master, and so, His first preachers, and hence it\ncame to pass that the early disciples of the infant faith were known\nfor their calmness, their courage and their joy.  Men \"took knowledge\nof them that they had been with Jesus.\"  This was the very age of which\nthe poet has told us:--\n\n  On that hard Pagan World disgust\n    And secret loathing fell;\n  Deep weariness and sated lust\n    Made human life a hell.\n\nBut the servants of the Galilean, more persecuted than any other men,\nwalked abroad with a gladness which was at once the perplexity and the\ncondemnation of the time.  \"Rejoice evermore\" was a sacred command and\na glorious possibility of the new religion, for they were taught to\nbelieve that \"All things are yours and ye are Christ's and Christ is\nGod's\"; they were assured that \"Nothing shall be able to separate us\nfrom the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord\"!\n\nThat was the _first_ century, and with us now is the twentieth; and it\nis said that the burdens of men become more numerous and more heavy as\nthe years pass on.  Older grows the world, but there is no lessening of\nits care, no relief from its perplexity, its pain, its sorrow.  As\ncivilisation becomes more complex the \"drive\" of life waxes ever more\nand more fierce.  Along with this complaint, it is said by some, that\nin the Church there is less joy than in those old days--less, indeed,\nthan in times within the memory of the grey-haired among us.  We who\nare Methodists are often reminded of a former Methodism which was vocal\nwith praises and electric with joy.  They whisper that it is different\nwith us now; that even the pulpit has lost its note of gladness.  Care\nsits upon the preacher's brow.  The songs of Zion are timed to the\nthrob of hearts that lag for very weariness.  \"Some are sick and some\nare sad.\"  \"Cares of to-day and burdens of to-morrow\" haunt us in the\nvery means of grace, and little is said to make us forget.  \"Fightings\nwithout and fears within,\" from these we seek deliverance in vain.  The\nprophet has forgotten how to comfort or, if he have not forgotten, he\nthinks the task unworthy of hours which might be more learnedly and\nimpressively employed.\n\nIf we admit, as perhaps we may, the existence of a measure of truth in\nthis complaint, it will only be to claim that there is some excuse for\nthose whom it asperses.  The intellectual problems bred of a\nmaterialistic age have so compelled the preacher to the defence of the\nwalls of Zion that it may well have come to pass that the inhabitants\nof the city--the men and women down in the streets and dwellings, for\nthe security of whom he has been contending--may have had to go short\nof many things; a time of siege is a time of deprivations and hardships\nfor citizens as well as soldiers.  The great social questions of the\npresent day have also claimed much of his thought and effort.  He has\nfelt, and justly, that these questions ought to receive more pulpit\nrecognition.  It is possible, and should not be thought surprising,\nthat in the ardour of the social crusade the preacher may have\nsometimes given to these things time and strength which might have been\nbetter spent in ministering to the personal griefs and perplexities of\nsuch as sat before him for their need's sake.  It may be well for us\neach to make inquiry concerning ourselves in these matters.  As a\nresult we will realise again, no doubt, how numerous and insistent are\nthe demands made upon us to turn aside in our ministry to treat of a\nhundred things which once upon a time we did not think of as pulpit\nquestions.  Be this as it may, here lies work for the preacher which he\nmust not neglect.  It is as certainly his duty to cheer and encourage\nthe heart of the individual as to indicate the path to better\nconditions of life for the multitude.\n\nAnd this he can only effectively do as he perfects himself in his\nunderstanding of their needs.  Of this understanding, and of the ways\nin which it must be sought, we have already written and will say no\nmore, except to point out how every new discovery concerning the\npreacher's duties furnishes additional illustration of the absolute\nnecessity that he study not books only, but also men and the conditions\nof their lives.  It is of little use knowing the contents of\nwell-filled shelves if we have never read the living volumes before us\nin the pews.  Again we say, \"if we only knew.\"\n\nStill knowledge is not the whole of the preacher's need in order that\nhis message may contain this cheering quality.  It is even more needful\nthat he shall, himself, be one of those who abide in the comfort of\nGod.  He must have learned the efficacy of the great consoling and\ngladdening verities by experience of their application to his own soul.\nHe only can surely cheer others who himself is cheerful, and no man who\nhas ever felt the pressure and care of life _can_ be cheerful excepting\nin so far as these great guarantees have become real to his own spirit.\nOnly with \"the comfort wherewith he is comforted of God\" will he\ncomfort others!\n\nAnd what are the verities whose application he must have experienced?\nThere is not one of all the glorious circle of revealed truths that is\nnot of use for the strengthening and encouraging of men; but there are\nsome of these truths which might almost have been designed for this\nspecial use.  Do we receive--do we preach them as we ought?\n\nThere is the doctrine of Divine Providence.  Surely this truth should\nbe preached more frequently than it is.  Surely, too, it should be\npreached in such a way as to link its meanings to the common hours, the\ncommon needs and anxieties of life.  For the vast majority of men life\nis actually a struggle for bread for themselves and their dependants.\nWe had almost said that it is a constant escape from ever threatening\nevils.  The question of food and raiment is full for them of the direst\nprobabilities.  Many a man listens to the preacher whose life is,\nindeed, from hand to mouth.  Fierce competition seeks at every turn to\nrob him of his little opportunity of bread winning.  Such a man had\nrather be told of a _providing_ God than of the newest discoveries in\nBiblical criticism.  If we forget his need and suffer him to go from\nthe Sanctuary no more hopeful and brave than when he came--then, so far\nas he is concerned, we have surely failed.\n\nThere is again the doctrine of the Divine Presence.  \"I will be with\nthee in the six troubles, and in the seventh I will not leave thee.\"\nThe wonderful truth of Jesus Christ in living, constant, saving\nnearness to every man, ready to help, to deliver and guide--here is a\ndoctrine, mighty to comfort all the world.  Before us are men who,\nmorning by morning, go forth with trembling to spend the day in\nassociations full of such temptations and dangers as are undreamed of\nby us.  Here are men and women haunted by bitter memories, whose\nmidnight solitude is disturbed by the ghosts of buried years.  There\nare many lonely people in the world, many from whom lover and friend\nhave been put far away.  For such is this treasure of promise committed\nunto us.  Send yonder man back to his conflict; yonder stranger to his\nloneliness; yonder memoried soul to his solitude to face again the\nspirits of his bygone days, with this thought: that every step of the\nway--whether in the city or in the desert--Jesus Christ will be by his\nside.  Such a preaching will be sweeter to him a thousand times than\nperplexing metaphysical discussions.\n\nThen let us not forget to apply the _promises_ by which the Master has\nstrengthened the exhortations given to His servants in all times to\nlabour in the fields of Christian service.  Of such promises there is\nsurely a varied and glorious store, and for all of them there is need\nenough.  Never do we preach but before us is some toiler almost ready\nto give up because of long delay in the appearance of the first signs\nof harvest.  _Encourage him_!  Tell him that the God of the sowing is\nalso the God of the reaping.  Tell him not to be \"weary in well doing,\nfor in due season\" he \"shall reap if\" he \"faint not.\"  Tell him that\n\"he that goeth forth weeping, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless\ncome again rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.\"  Tell him _this_.\nHe has heard it all before, of course, or else he had not so long\nstruggled on in the work.  Tell it him again and again, for again and\nagain the need to hear it all will come.  Tell it him gloriously,\nconfidently.  He will go back to his Sunday School class, back to his\nlabour among the poor, out to his next appointment on the plan, with a\nnew hope which will be also a new power!\n\nAnd let us remember that there has been given unto us for the\ncomforting of His people the revelation of the glory laid up for them\nthat fear Him.  To the writer a little while ago an able and\nspiritually minded Unitarian minister made this statement:--\"In every\nservice I conduct I announce, at least, one hymn on immortality.  The\npeople need to hear of it.\"  There is food for thought in such a\nconfession from such a source.  Once upon a time it was common in\nMethodism to hear sermons on Heaven.  To-day how infrequent such\nsermons are!  Yet surely the King has not withdrawn this portion of the\nmessage from our hands.  And surely there is occasion for such\nreminders to be given.  How many there are to whom \"Earth's but a sorry\ntent;\" how many, again, who go in bondage to the fear of death all\ntheir days; how many more who look mournfully after departed dear ones\nand wonder how it goes with them across the stream.  To all such people\nis the preacher commissioned, and they look wistfully toward him for\nthe word that may let the glory in!\n\nAnd that word we do not speak nowadays as often as we might, perhaps\nnot as often as we ought.  Here, again, is something to be recovered by\nthe present-day preacher.  Possibly when he comes to talk of the\nglories \"laid up,\" this same preacher may find need for some new forms\nof expression.  Perhaps he will not find it possible to speak with the\nold literalism of his predecessors.  But the living core of the message\nis still his as it was theirs.  The divine example, too, is before him\nevery time he harks back to his Master's presence.  In that great day\nof sorrow when He spake to the disciples of His early departure, He,\nseeing their grief, said, \"In My Father's house are many mansions ....\nI go to prepare a place for you.\"  _Preach Heaven_!  This very day\nthere are hearts breaking for the story!\n\nTo cheer the souls of men by the use of this, or any other material,\nand in any legitimate way we can--to this must our preaching be\nabsolutely and resolutely bent.  To make brighter the lives of men; to\ntake out of the future its dark dreads and fears and to fill it with\nbeckoning blessings; to make the sanctuary a place of healing, a house\nof bread, a rock of cooling streams; to make of every service a season\nof refreshing--for all this are we responsible to the King who sent us\nout to His suffering children.  The message He entrusted to us contains\nthe sufficiency for it all!\n\nBut more, we repeat, than the mere letter of the message is needed.\nThe best of words may be so spoken as to bring but small assistance to\nsuch as hear.  Again we say that the preacher must, himself, live in\nthe comfort and courage he preaches to others, or else there will be\nsomewhat in his voice that will spoil it all.  The word and also the\n_tone_!  \"The tone\" must be the tone of absolute realisation and\nassurance.  Pronounced in any other accent the words of the Gospel of\njoy sound impossible; the blessings they promise seem dim and far away;\nthe fact of providence becomes a mere theory; the future harvest of\nholy sowing a pious but foolish hope; the sweet fields of Eden a fair\nbut airy dream.  Nothing is colder than perfunctory, official,\nprofessional consolation and encouragement.  When fear whispers\n\"Courage!\" the chattering of his teeth makes our terror worse!\n\nSo, once again, the preacher's success and effectiveness are found\nlargely to depend upon his own heart's condition.  The message will\ncarry little more cheer than the messenger can pour into it out of the\nstored up happiness and confidence of his own breast.  In the cheer of\nGod must he abide who would scatter a little comfort among his fellow\nmen!\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III\n\nTHE MESSAGE:--\n\nITS FORM AND DELIVERANCE\n\n\n\nTHEORY OF BOOK III.\n\nWe have spoken of the Effective Preacher and of the Effective Message,\nbut this Message must have Effective Form and Expression in order to\ncommand the Largest Measure of Success.\n\n_What are the Essentials of Effectiveness in the Form and Delivery of\nthe Message?_\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nOn Attractiveness.\n\nHaving now given some little thought to a consideration of the\nessential qualifications of the Christian messenger, and also to the\ncontent of his message, it remains to name certain qualities of form\nand expression equally needed for success in the publication of the\ntruth.  The first business of the preacher is, of course, to secure the\nfriendly attention of his hearers and his next business is to retain it\nuntil he makes an end of speaking.  To accomplish these things it is\nobviously needful that he possess some skill in the putting of things\nin such a way as first to attract, then to enlighten, and finally, to\npersuade.\n\nIn beginning then, a very brief inquiry concerning these qualities, it\nmay be assumed that in the sermon as we know it we have by far the best\nvehicle for the conveyance of the preacher's message.  From time to\ntime experiments with other media have been tried, but the sermon has\nnot been superseded.  A few years ago trial was made of what was called\nthe Sermon-story--a religious novel read by the preacher in weekly\nparts.  \"Song services\" and \"lantern addresses\" have been\nwell-intentioned attempts to enlist the ear and the eye in the\ninterests of the soul.  In the miracle plays of the Middle Ages,\nScriptural truth and incident were thrown into dramatic form for the\nbenefit of the ignorant classes.  The sermon still holds the field.  No\nform of preaching has use and acceptance so general, nor so lends\nitself to meet changing times and differing circumstances as does this.\nThe thought is no less true than wonderful, and no less wonderful than\ntrue, that of all who appeal to the public ear, none, even in these\ndays of comparative indifference to religion, draw so large an audience\nas do the preachers of the Christian faith.  The sermon is still the\nmost popular form of public address!\n\nIt will be wise therefore for the preacher not only to ask as to\nwhether he possesses within himself a preaching mind and heart and\nknowledge and designation; whether he can say that he seeks to present\nthe truth in all its completeness, but also whether his _sermons_ are\nof such a sort as most readily to secure the entrance of the truth they\ncontain.  God's truth may be--and often is--hindered in its saving\nerrand by reason of the form and manner in which it is presented,\nthough, behind such ineffective presentation, there may be sincerity of\nmotive and sublime enthusiasm.  The preacher may fail as a messenger by\nfailing as a sermoniser.  He may fail as a sermoniser from neglect of\nprinciples which so wait upon his discovery that it is nothing less\nthan a mystery when they are not seen.\n\nAnd yet, obvious as these principles are, the art of the sermon maker\nneeds learning, and even the study of methods of delivery is of immense\nimportance to success.  We have spoken of \"the born preacher\"; even\n_he_ must cultivate his gifts in order to realise his highest\npossibilities.  We speak sometimes of \"diamonds in the rough\"; the\nvalue of these precious stones increases as the art of the lapidary is\ncarefully exercised upon them.  If it be only to prevent the formation\nof false methods and bad habits of thought and utterance, a preacher\nshould give attention to the study of Homiletics.  He may, as the end\nof all his studies, feel led deliberately to reject much of what he has\nbeen taught in favour of original methods of his own.  As the years go\non he may forget many of the rules laboriously learned.  Neither of\nthese circumstances should be held to prove that time spent in the\nsermonising class has been wasted.  It is a fact that most of us have\nforgotten the greater part of what we learned at school.  The dates\nwhich made up so large a part of our historical lessons, the rules we\nslavishly committed as we struggled to master the difficulties of\nsyntax and prosody, our latinity, our grounding in the tongue of\nancient Greece so hardly won--who amongst us, having grey hairs in\nabundance, could face to-day the examination room where once we\ntriumphed in these things?  Yet in a sense they are all still with us.\nWe reproduce them in effectiveness in the daily battle; in the thousand\nand one duties forming the work of life.  It may be much the same in\nthe case of homiletics.  We may reject; we may forget; but we cannot\naltogether fail to profit richly in many ways from studies the object\nof which is to make the student more skilful in the use of the powers\nbestowed upon him.  Had these pages been written for young men only,\nthey would have contained more than one chapter devoted to an effort to\nenforce the absolute necessity of bending the mind, and with the mind\nthe heart, to the earnest pursuit of all that can be learned about the\nactual building-up of discourses from the foundation of exegesis to the\ntopstone of application.  We do not refrain from emphasising this\nnecessity because of any thought that even the elder brethren will find\nsuch studies without profit.  To read once more some of the homiletic\nmanuals of our far-off days, would not be for many of us a foolish\nmethod of spending a quiet hour \"between the mount and multitude!\"\n\nTo these books, with others more recently published, we refer the\nreader who is on the lookout for \"rules.\"  In our youth there were many\nof them:--\"Kidder,\" \"Phelps,\" \"Broadus,\" \"Beecher,\" \"Parker's Ad\nClerum.\"  Add to these \"Phillips Brooks,\" \"Dale,\" \"The Cure of Souls,\"\nand as many more as can be remembered; their name is legion--all\nhelpful to wise men and good.  Our present duty seems to be that of\nnaming certain principles which must be remembered by all who would\nattain to effectiveness in pulpit expression.\n\nAnd the first of these principles seems to be this:--That the sermon\nshould have the quality of _attractiveness_, that it ought to be so\ninteresting that the man in the pew will _wish_ to listen to it, find\nit harder _not_ to listen than to attend to its every word.  You will\nnever save or help a man if you never interest him!\n\nNow, whether there be need to emphasise this very obvious consideration\nwe may judge from the talk we hear about sermons in general.  We have\nalready spoken of the wonderful popularity of this form of public\naddress; but this popularity is not unqualified by complaints, the most\nfrequent of which is, perhaps, about the preacher's dulness.  \"As dull\nas a sermon\" is a familiar expression--so familiar that no one troubles\nto protest against its use and application.  One of our most hoary and\npatriarchal anecdotes tells of the minister who, finding a burglar in\nhis study, held the man in deep slumber by the reading of last Sunday's\ndiscourse while his wife slipped out for the policeman.  An American\nhumorist, who has laid us under life-long obligation for hours of\nhonest laughter, tells us, in the history of his courtship of Betsy\nJane, that her folks and his \"_slept_ in the same meeting house.\"\nAgain and again have we heard of the risks run by insurance companies\nin granting fire policies upon the houses of the clergy, because of the\nimmense quantities of very dry material they contain.  All these\nhumorous stories and sallies find appreciation because there is, alas!\na certain amount of truth at the heart of them.  Then there is also\nthat demand for shorter sermons in which some see so ominous a portent.\nWe demur to the assumption that this demand invariably grows out of\ndislike for the subjects upon which the preacher dilates.  It is\nobjected that no one grumbles greatly concerning the length of a\nShakespearian representation, nor when a prominent and eloquent\npolitician occupies the platform for an hour and a half.  A little\nwhile ago, in a crowded hall in London, we heard a well-known statesman\nspeak for two hours and a quarter on a busy Saturday afternoon, and, at\nthe conclusion, hundreds were heard to express surprise on learning\nthat the address had been half so lengthy.  \"If we preached as long as\nthis what would happen?\" asked a friend as we left the hall.  \"_What,\"\nindeed_?  But suppose that we preached as _interestingly_ as the\npolitician spoke?  Suppose we had learned something from the great\ndramatist of the art of assailing and winning the attention of the men\nand women to whom we speak?  It must not be forgotten, when we find\nfault with the demand for short sermons, that there are some preachers\nfrom whom their hearers demand not short sermons but long!  Perhaps\nthis demand for brevity may not result so much from the depravity of\nthe pew as from the dulness of the pulpit, by which we mean the sermon\nand not its subject.  At this very moment, there is no subject--we dare\nto say--on which the average man can be so deeply moved as on the\nsubject of his spiritual needs and questions.  It can still be said\nthat more people attend the churches and chapels of London than are to\nbe found in all other places of popular resort.  The things of the\nspirit are still the things most thought of, and should those whose\nbusiness it is to speak of them fail to win, at least the ear, if not\nthe heart, of those they seek to influence, they ought to ask\nthemselves very faithfully whether it may not be possible that some of\nthe fault may lie in the form, or wording, or delivery of the message.\nThey should inquire whether sermon and delivery are such as to make it\neasier to listen than to sleep.  They should ask, \"_Can it be that even\nI am guilty of being dull_?\"\n\nFor the truth must be confessed that some preachers--brethren with\ngolden truth to publish, and possessed of good natural gifts and a real\nand deep desire to bless the people--_are_ dull--drearily, dreadfully,\ndeadly dull!  They are dull with the most interesting, the most\nwonderful--may we not say the most sensational?--subject in the world\nto talk about.\n\nAnd what is the cause of this dulness?  Again we say it does not lie in\nthe nature of the subjects committed to the preacher.  To this denial\nwe will add another to the effect that, in almost every instance, the\ndulness of the sermon does not proceed from a quality of dulness in the\npreacher.  There are few men who, in conversation, are unable to\ninterest us in subjects of intrinsic attractiveness.  Many a man, dull\nto boredom in the pulpit, becomes a delightful personality in the\nsocial circle.  Why the startling difference?\n\nTo answer this question fully might involve the use of many words, but\nit may, at least, be suggested that preaching is often dull because the\npreacher has inherited a notion that reverence for the truth and for\nthe sanctuary demands it.  There still remain traces of a feeling, said\nto have been common in old time, that dulness is a virtue.  This same\nfeeling was wont, in other days, to fill the homes of the godly with a\ngravity and a solemnity which almost effected the banishment of\nlaughter and drove forth music as an outcast from the domestic hearth.\nDominated by this sense of things, men shut their eyes to the\njoyfulness of life and the beauties of nature and literature and poetry\nand art.  The Sabbaths of such men were days to be feared; their\nsanctuaries places without a gleam of sunshine.  What wonder if the\npulpit came under the yoke of bondage, or that, having been once\nenslaved, it should even now have hardly attained to perfect freedom?\nThen there are preachers whose great concern is to maintain \"the\ndignity of the pulpit,\" and this concern is allowed to crush out their\nnaturalness and brightness and humour--every quality that is human and\npleasant and alluring.  It is on record that even so great and wise a\npreacher as Dr. Dale of Birmingham had to confess that his own mighty\nministry had suffered because of a certain stateliness of composition\nand delivery which had militated against the attractiveness of his\nsermons, especially so far as the younger and less educated of his\nhearers were concerned.  From this solicitude for the dignity of the\npulpit have come \"the pulpit manner,\" \"the pulpit tone,\" \"the pulpit\nvocabulary,\" all of which, as being departures from honest Nature's\nhomely plans, have helped to spoil the charm and prevent the triumph of\nholy, lovely truth.  Still another may be dull from intellectual pride.\nNot unknown is the man who may often be heard explaining the success\nattained by other brethren but denied to himself, by references to what\nhe calls \"playing to the gallery\" or \"catering for popular applause.\"\n_He_, forsooth, will not so demean himself as to be guilty of practices\nso degrading.  Thought is _his_ provision for those who come to hear.\n_He_ appeals to _thinkers_.  Alas! for him, his \"thinkers,\" if only he\nknew it, are human and have a mind to be pleased.  \"Very intellectual,\"\nmay be the verdict with which they leave the church, but people cannot\nalways be on the intellectual rack, and both the Sabbath and the\nSanctuary were designed for rest for weary brains.  We have known a\nvery learned man to admit, as he came away from hearing an exceedingly\nthoughtful discourse, that, to him, the preacher's address to the\nchildren had been the most enjoyable part of the service.  The sermon\nwas very clever; but--well, he had had a hard and trying week of it,\nand came to church with a tired mind and a troubled heart.\n\nSo it has come to pass that many a preacher has fallen into a homiletic\ndulness quite foreign to his own disposition.  In the home, the social\ncircle, in every place saving the pulpit he was human and natural.  He\nhad a jest to cheer the depressed, a tear for sorrow.  He could rejoice\nwith those who rejoiced, weep with those who wept.  He was responsive\nto the piping of gladness.  In pain or pleasure he was ever a welcome\nguest, but in the temple he condemned by tone and manner every bit of\nhumanity into which he had been unwittingly betrayed, and atoned for\nhis every lapse into naturalness by dreariness growing drearier.  Not\nso did Jesus Christ preach, else the common people had not \"heard Him\ngladly;\" not so, else the little children had not gathered around His\nfeet, nor shouted their Hosannas as he rode up to the city gate.  Not\ndull were those sermons that drew the multitudes from the towns to the\nwilderness, and held them so entranced that the time for bodily\nrefreshment passed unheeded by.  \"Never man spake like this Man,\" they\nsaid, as they spread their garments in the path by which the preacher\ncame up to Mount Zion.  He revealed God; He rebuked sin; He poured His\ndenunciations upon the age; He tore off the mask from the face of\nhypocrisy; not one jot or tittle of truth did He bate for the sake of\napplause, yet all Judea went out to Him, and all the regions beyond\nJordan.  In _His_ preaching there was not only everything to save the\nsoul, there was everything to charm the ear!\n\nFrom this divine example, if from no other consideration, let us set\nourselves to preach attractively; and let us begin by resolving to\npreach _naturally_.  The best preaching is talk at its best in subject\nand in style, and provides exercise for every talent of preacher and\nhearer alike.  \"Right here,\" as the Americans say, let us remember that\ntalk is always spoken and never read.  For the production of the effect\nof dulness; for the sure spoiling of good thought nobly conceived and\nnobly phrased, commend us to a manuscript slavishly read to an audience\nassembled to be _spoken to_ by a man who was appointed to _speak_.\nThere may be churches which, through long suffering, have become so\nused to being read to that they have learned to endure it, perhaps even\nto fancy they like it.  But watch the congregation in such a church.\nNote when for a moment the preacher lifts his head and ventures a brief\nexcursion from the sheets before him, how obviously their interest\nquickens and their eyes brighten.  Even _they_, in the depths of their\nhearts, would rather be spoken to, though such a practice might mean,\nnow and then, a little looseness in expression, a little breakdown in\nthe preacher's grammar.  More than this may be said:--It has seemed to\nus, as the result of attending many churches, that in such sanctuaries\nas we have referred to reading is going out of fashion.  We have\nlistened of late months to many well-known preachers of various\ndenominations and not one of them \"read.\"  On the other hand, we have\nheard it asserted that while the method of reading becomes less common\nin these churches, it tends to become more usual in Methodism.  Alas!\nfor Methodist preaching if this startling assertion be really true.\nMethodism does _not want_ the read sermon--is not likely, unless it\nceases to be Methodism, to learn to want it--will only endure it when\nit cannot help itself, or when, for other reasons, it has great\nreverence and affection for the man who weakly offers it; or again,\nwhen the preacher is old and has outlived his intellectual nimbleness,\nin which case sympathy may so plead his cause as to secure him a\nreluctant hearing.  Methodism grew to greatness under the preaching of\nmen who _spoke_, and that method is traditional to her pulpit; some day\nshe will crystallise her tradition into a law that the _speaker_ alone\nshall stand in her high place.  To attract and hold the people the\npreacher must speak!\n\nAnd let him speak in the voice and manner with which it is most natural\nfor him to speak to his fellow men.  There is as yet no organ sweeter\nthan the human voice in its own natural tones, none so adapted to reach\nthe heart.  The pity is, that so often, from simple ignorance, this\nfine instrument is spoiled.  Gladly would we see a course of voice\ntuition included as a necessary part of all pulpit training.  So would\nthe spoiling of many a gracious utterance be prevented.  It is faulty\nmethods of speech rather than overwork that are responsible for many a\n\"clergyman's sore throat.\"  Speaking is as natural an exercise to the\nvoice of a man as is walking to his feet, or handling to his hands, but\nit must be done naturally; and the use of training is found in its\nbringing home this lesson.  The \"pulpit voice\" must become a\nyesterday's blunder.\n\nTo attractiveness in delivery must be added, if people are to be kept\nin audience, an attractiveness in treatment; here, again, the method of\nsuccess is to let Nature have her way.  Let the preacher permit himself\nto devote _all_ his gifts to the setting forth of his theme.  The great\nthing is to get the word right home and to that end all considerations\nas to style, language, arrangement, should be subordinate.  There be\nsome highly intellectual persons who affect contempt when a preacher\ntells a story.  There are very solemn persons who gravely disapprove\nwhen the sermon contains a touch of humour which causes a ripple of\nlaughter in the holy place.  Some people, again, hate an epigram, and\nsay \"the preacher is trying to be smart.\"  It is impossible to please\nall the critics.  The great business of the preacher is to get his work\ndone; and if by a story, a touch of humour or of sarcasm, the use of\nany gift, he can, keeping within the limits of that good taste which\nshould guide him at all times, entice men to listen, the critics may be\nignored.\n\nOne more paragraph may be added before bringing this chapter to an end.\nAfter all, the great secret of being interesting lies in being\n_interested_.  The really enthralling preacher is he who is himself\nenthralled by his subject and who realises, also, a deep interest in\nthe people before Him.  Should it ever come to pass that the subject\ngrow stale, worn and hackneyed to the man in the pulpit, it will not be\na hopeful quest to look for much interest in the pew.  Again should it\never come to pass that the preacher lose interest in those before whom\nhe stands, and this has been known to occur, there will remain small\nreason to listen to him for preaching of the sort we most desire.  May\nit not be possible that \"the sermon-box\" is responsible for much of the\ndulness we deplore.  Whitefield, it is said, used to contend that a man\ncould preach the same discourse forty-nine times with ever-increasing\neffect.  There may be some who have not this power, but who faithfully\ntoil to prove the truth of the dictum.  It was such a good sermon and\nwent so well when we preached it the first few times, the while our\nhearts were fired by the truth it taught.  So we whispered to ourselves\nas we turned over the contents of that precious box.  Other days had\ncome, other circumstances, other people, other needs and other views,\nbut forth came the well-worn and faded manuscript once again.  A\nbaptism of holy madness in which every preacher should make a fire of\nall his sermons dry enough to burn might not be a bad thing for the\nChurch and the world.  Such a baptism may, perhaps, be too great a\nthing to pray for; such a sacrifice as it would involve, may possibly\nbe too much to ask--and some sermons _are_ worth preaching over and\nover again, even long after Whitefield's maximum has been exceeded.\nStill there is a dangerous temptation in the possession of hoarded\nsermons from which we will do well to pray to be delivered.  To that\npetition thousands in all the churches would be glad to say Amen!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nOn Transparency.\n\nThere is one quality of such vital importance to the effectiveness of\nour sermons as to merit more than passing mention, and that is the\nquality of lucidity.  The business of the preacher is to make his\nmeaning understood, to make his audience see what he sees, understand\nwhat he understands.  It is laid upon him as a special instruction to\npresent the truth with such plainness that \"a wayfaring man, though a\nfool, need not err therein.\"  Failing here, he fails badly.  It is\npossible, perhaps, to excite a hearer's admiration without clearness.\nThere is to be found in some men a curious liking for being puzzled;\nand they will credit with high talent and deep learning him who is able\nthoroughly to mystify them.  We have more than once heard a man\ndescribed as \"far learned\" because of a style in which polysyllables,\nnot always correctly chosen, did duty for thought, as polysyllables\noften do.  But the mere winning of ignorant admiration is a poor result\nof pulpit work, and no manly man will set such an end before him as the\ngoal of his ambition.  Admit that hearers may receive a measure of\nblessing out of all proportion to the degree of their understanding--a\nfriend of ours tells us that he has had wonderful times in listening to\nsermons in the Welsh language of which he knows not a word,--it still\nremains true that men are saved through the _knowledge_ of the truth.\nIn joining himself to the Eunuch from Ethiopia who, sitting in his\nchariot read the Prophet Esaias, Philip asked, \"Understandest thou what\nthou readest?\" and all his effort went to make the dusky stranger\ncomprehend.  To make men understand, is our bounden duty still.\n\nAnd to accomplish this necessary achievement is not invariably the\neasiest thing imaginable.  Indeed, it may well be contended that in\nnone of his aims does the preacher fail more frequently than in this.\nOften would we be greatly surprised and deeply discouraged had we the\nmeans of comparing the idea _received_ with the idea we meant to\nconvey.  The reticence of our hearers is wisdom in them and mercy to us.\n\nFor it is absolutely certain that most preachers overestimate--we do\nnot say the intelligence of their congregations,--but their ability to\ngrasp the truth presented at the speed, and in the way in which it is\nbrought before them.  Because the trained mind of the preacher can\nreadily and easily understand religious literature and speech, it does\nnot follow that the hearer has the same power; nor does it follow that\nthe lack of it proves him a person of smaller intellectuality than the\nman whose utterances bring perplexity to his mind.  The preacher should\nremember that what are matters of daily thought and research to him are\nnot so familiar to his hearers.  To _him_ they form a well-known\ncountry.  He should not assume that the man who turns to him for\ndirection as to the points and places of this holy land will always be\nable to comprehend these directions as easily as he gives them.  We\nspeak from experience when we assert that it is much easier, in a land\none knows very well, to direct the traveller on his way than it is to\nunderstand such directions when, from strangeness in the path, we have\nin turn to seek them ourselves.\n\nNot only is this true, but it is also true that we are too apt to take\nfor granted that what is knowledge to the preacher is knowledge to the\nhearer.  It is to be feared that in these days the average church-goer\nis not so well versed in Biblical knowledge as the assumptions of our\nsermons might suggest.  Most men nowadays live in a hurry, and are busy\nabout many things, and it cannot be pretended that the Scriptures\nreceive that reading and study which give such advantage to the hearer\nof preaching.  Probably an examination of any ten men chosen without\ndiscrimination out of the congregation of one of our churches would\nreveal a state of things both startling and sad.  It is so easy to be\nmisled by appearances.  The congregation is well dressed, respectable,\nkeen.  There are the usual signs of education, even of culture.  All\nthese things are consistent with great shallowness of sacred knowledge.\nMen are careful to till their own fields, but common land is generally\nsorely neglected.  There is a scientist in yonder pew; in his own\nscience he is supreme.  Near him sits a politician; few there are who\nknow the questions of the hour better than he.  In the pulpit stands\nthe preacher; he is--shall we venture the assertion?--a man mighty in\nthe Bible.  It is _his book_.  It is, in a _general_ way, the book of\nthe scientist, of the statesman, of every person in the congregation,\nbut the preacher specialises in it and in all that relates to it.  He\nwill make a mistake if he assumes too much either to the credit of one\nman before him or another.  Here a memory of many years ago rises to\nthe surface.  Having to preach one Sunday to an audience which usually\ncontained two or three men of positions rather above the common run, we\nconfessed great nervousness to an aged minister of our church now no\nmore.  \"Never bother a bit, lad,\" was the reply; \"remember one\nthing:--You will know more about that subject than any man in the\nchapel, because you will have been _working_ at it.  The doctor will\nhave spent _his_ week mixing physic, the lawyer _his_ in mixing law.\nYou will have spent _yours_ in getting to know all about this text of\nwhich, like as not, neither of them has ever heard.\"  There was\nconsolation in the old man's assurances, though they recognised a\nsorrowful fact too often forgotten.  Probably if we knew everything we\nshould come to the conclusion that one fault of our sermons is that\nthey are not half sufficiently elementary.\n\nAlong the same line follows the remark, that it is also a mistake to\nassume that the terminology familiar to the preacher and conveying to\n_his_ mind certain ideas, must of necessity be equally familiar and\nconvey the very same ideas to every other man.  Much of this language\nis technical; much of it consists of words and phrases which have long\nbeen obsolete so far as daily use and wont are concerned.  Let the\npreacher set himself to listen to a professional man who elects to\nspeak upon the subjects in which he is most interested in the language\nof his profession; or let him hearken to an artisan who talks about his\ncraft in the terms in use at the bench, or in the factory, and then he\nwill in some degree comprehend the effect of technical language in\nmystifying the uninitiated hearer.  We recall in this connection a\nsermon in which, years ago, we heard a very young preacher declaiming\nto an audience of labouring men and women concerning a certain\n\"anthropomorphic\" passage.  As we say he was very young, and probably\nno longer uses the word outside the study.  Another worthy man in our\nhearing solemnly advised a congregation largely composed of factory\ngirls to make their lives \"Christo-centric.\"  We acknowledge our\nindebtedness to the Rev. W. L. Watkinson, himself a splendid example of\nthe excellence for which we plead, for two humorous illustrations of\nthe mistake now being considered.  One is that of a local preacher who,\nduring a revival of religion, most earnestly counselled his auditors to\nexercise \"fiduciary\" faith; the other, of a learned divine whose\nappointment in a certain village coincided with the visit of a\ntravelling menagerie.  \"I perceive,\" he said, in sensational tones,\n\"that a spirit of German transcendental ratiocination is creeping into\nthe Church.\"  The congregation, remembering the adjacent caravans, left\nat once in hurry and alarm.\n\nIn that very interesting volume in which the proprietors of _The Daily\nNews_ tabulated the results of a census of church attendance in the\nmetropolis, Mr. F. C. Masterman, writing on the religious problem of\nSouth East London, has the following words:--\n\n\"The prevailing theology, even more perhaps than the prevailing\nliturgy, is wrapped up in an ancient language.  The very terms are\ntechnical--grace, justification, conversion, perseverance.  They flow\nout glibly from the student who has soaked himself in their historical\nmeanings; they are Greek to the general.  They were once living\nrealities for which men fought and gladly died; they still symbolise\nrealities, the permanent elements of the life history of the soul--but\nthey are wrapped around in cobwebs and the complications of a technical\nsystem, frozen into sterility; and they have no more meaning and no\nmore appeal to the audience at whom they are thrown in such profusion\nthan the details of the performance of the Mosaic ritual, or the\ngenealogies of the legendary heroes of the Hebrew Bible.  We want\nneither edifying lessons drawn from the wanderings of Israel or the\nBook of Joshua; nor brilliant 'word-painting' of some of the scenes\ndescribed in the Bible with a more appealing eloquence; nor the\nexposition of the machinery of schemes of salvation once real from\nwhich the life has departed; but some message concerning the things of\nthe spirit, delivered in simplicity and humility and sincerity to men\nwho would fain be simple and humble and sincere.\"  These are weighty\nwords, and many a preacher might do worse than take them seriously to\nheart.  Such an event might mean the blessing of many who have so far\nbeen mystified rather than edified.  Mr. Masterman represents, we are\nsure, multitudes who could add proof to his words from frequent\nexperience; he speaks, also, for many more who, because of similar\nexperience, come no more to the house of the Lord.\n\nBut the difficulty does not always arise from the preacher's\nterminology alone.  It is possible to fall into the fault of\n_over-condensation_ in our preaching.  Highly concentrated foods are\nproverbially hard of digestion, and the same may be true of highly\nconcentrated sermons.  \"Words packed with profoundest meanings\" are apt\nto pass over the mind carrying much of their meaning with them\nundiscovered.  A \"highly sententious style\" may have some of the\nqualities of a thunder shower, in which the rain falls so fast as to be\nof little use in watering the thirsty ground, over which it courses\nunabsorbed to join the brook down yonder in the vale.  The maxim\n\"_multum in parvo_\" may be an admirable one for an author whose book\nwill lie in the reader's hand the while he has time to grasp the full\nsignificance of every well-filled sentence.  By a public speaker,\nhowever, packing may easily be overdone; and here is one of the dangers\nof the written sermon as compared with one in which the preacher,\nhaving gathered together his knowledge and his thought upon a matter,\nleaves the choice of words to the hour of delivery.  A little wise\nprolixity may be necessary to the speaker.  A little repetition; the\nputting of a truth, first in _this_ way, then in _that_, and again\nperhaps in quite a different fashion, so that different minds may have\nin turn their chance--even this may be needed, and though the\npreacher's impatience may find such a method irksome, duty may lie that\nway while inclination turns to a more sententious and expeditious mode.\nWhen all has been done that can be done to render every argument and\nlesson absolutely transparent there will still be some who will not\nhave quite understood.  The simplest of preachers must some day\nencounter the old lady who accosted, so it is said, a former Bishop of\nChester, who, at great pains to be lucid, had unfolded the argument\nagainst the errors of atheism, with the words, \"Well, my lord, I must\nsay as I think there is a God after all you've told us.\"\n\nAnother thing to be remembered is, that much depends upon the order and\narrangement of a sermon whether it is \"easy to follow\" or not.  We are\nold-fashioned enough to believe rather strongly in the method according\nto which the preacher divided his subject into \"heads.\"  We had heard\nthat this method was falling into disuse, but have been surprised\nduring recent months to discover how many of the more acceptable and\nsuccessful preachers still find it the most effective plan.  Of course\nthere are those who vote the method out of date; and we have listened\nto the preaching of some who hold this view and act upon it.  Our\nexperience teaches us that in respect of clearness and, perhaps\nespecially, of memorability, the method of distinct division has many\nadvantages.  It is easier to the preacher; _much_ easier to the hearer.\nOnly, let it be remembered that an \"introduction\" should introduce;\nthat \"divisions\" should divide, and sub-divisions sub-divide.  Needless\nand trifling \"majors\" or \"minors\" are irritating and confusing.\n\"Firstly,\" \"Secondly,\" \"Thirdly,\" and--under very special\ncircumstances--even \"Fourthly\" may contribute to the making of the dark\nplaces plain, but the days have long since passed away in which\n\"Ninthly\" and \"Tenthly\" could be borne; though there have actually been\nsuch days.  We have read, or tried to read, discourses whose major\ndivisions ran to \"eighteenthly\" with minor divisions grouped under each\nlike companies in a regiment.  People came to preaching early in those\ndays and stayed late.  Can it be one result of their experiences that\nwe, their posterity, have inherited that strange weariness which so\nfrequently attacks us as \"One word more\" is announced from the sacred\ndesk?\n\nSimplicity in language, and in putting things; as much repetition as\nmay be needed; great care not to assume more knowledge in the hearer\nthan he possesses; much allowance for the fact that the minds addressed\nmay not be trained in the theme under discussion, and that there is a\nwide difference between the catching of an idea which waits upon a\nprinted page and of an idea in flight of spoken discourse; clear and\nmemorable arrangement of the whole address--all these concessions must\nbe made if men are to be sent away from the sanctuary carrying with\nthem any considerable part of the provision with which the preacher\nclimbed the pulpit stair.  And after all these concessions have been\nallowed the _great_ effort to make things plain has yet to be begun!\n\nThis _great effort_ for the attainment of transparency will be made, we\nneed hardly say, along two lines, the line of illustration and the line\nof application.  Possibly it may be held by some that these two lines\nare really one.\n\nAnd concerning illustration:--The greatest preachers, and the most\neffective, have been those who have shown the greatest mastery of this\nart.  The writing of these words brings to our minds names sufficient\nto establish their truth.  Who can forget the illustrations of C. H.\nSpurgeon; the illustrations of McLaren of Manchester, whose expositions\nof Scripture received illumination in this way at every turning of the\npath along which the preacher led us, happy and entranced?  It has been\npronounced by some a mistake to class D. L. Moody among the _great_\npreachers.  The answer will depend upon our definition of a great\npreacher.  _We_ would support the inclusion and our reason lies\nhere:--We heard the man in boyhood and so clear, by simplicity and\naptness of language, of phrase and of illustration did he make his\nevery contention, that we understood him from beginning to end.  An\nexample happily still with us has already been named in the earlier\npart of this chapter.  Every preacher should hear the Rev. W. L.\nWatkinson, if he walk a score of miles to do it!\n\nBut the art of illustration, excepting in those rare cases where a man\nbrings to its learning a natural gift waiting only to be brought into\nuse, is not easily acquired.  Every preacher of experience will be\nprepared to testify that in attempting to illustrate it is not only\neasy to make mistakes but difficult to avoid making them at times.\nSometimes an illustration, intended to light up a subject, rather takes\naway the thought of a congregation from that subject than otherwise.\nSometimes, again, the illustration may be found to carry other\nsuggestions than were intended.  The lad, to whom the wisdom of early\nrising was sought to be illustrated by the good fortune of the early\nbird in securing the first worm, drew precisely the opposite moral,\nholding that the fate of the worm taught the wisdom of remaining in bed\nuntil a later hour.  Then an illustration may be even less clear than\nthe argument to be illustrated.  We have heard scientific illustrations\nof this character, from which the hearer derived a supplementary dose\nof mystification rather than an elucidation of the problem with which\nhe was already manfully grappling.  An illustration may be too\npathetic, and people may weep from the wrong cause, an event which\noften occurs in church.  It is one thing to shed tears over a touching\nstory and another to shed them from penitence.  An illustration should\nnot be more sublime than the lesson to be taught lest there follow a\nswift descent with loss of reverence by the way.  There is a place for\nhumour in the pulpit, if it be natural to the preacher and flow\nspontaneously, but a humorous illustration requires to be very\ncarefully chosen, lest, instead of the healthy and holy laughter often\nso fatal to anger and meanness and pride, you have the guffaw in which\nblessing is lost in excess.  Other reflections as to illustrations are\nthe following:--First, the illustration, if a story, ought at least to\ncontain the element of probability.  No preacher can _always_ satisfy\nhimself as to the literal truth of a story he may hear and wish to use,\nbut he can, at least, consider whether the event recounted was\npossible.  We have heard stories from the pulpit which were so hard to\nswallow as to leave no room for the moral.  We have heard illustrations\nin sermons which have led to criticisms wherein the strength of the\npreacher's imagination has not been passed over unrecognised.  Further,\nan illustration derives power from being drawn from sources familiar to\nthose to whom it is addressed.  In some confessions regarding his early\nministry, Henry Ward Beecher enforces this very lesson in telling of\nhis failure to impress the people until he turned for his illustrations\nto fields well known to them.  Who has not seen a farm-labouring\naudience lift their heads when a preacher, saying, \"It is like,\" has\nled his hearers into the fields where they had toiled during the\nprevious week?  Often have we seen a mining congregation captured _en\nbloc_ when some brother miner, speaking in native doric from the wagon\nat a camp meeting, has taken them \"doon the pit,\" or \"in bye.\"  We have\nwatched the faces of sea-going men gleam with a new interest as the\npreacher drew a simile, or caught a metaphor from the mighty deep.\nOnly, in using such illustrations as these, let the user be quite\ncertain that he is _accurate_.  One mistake about the farm, the mine,\nthe sea, and all is over!  With accuracy as a quality constantly\npresent, those illustrations are most effective whose material is most\nhomely and familiar.  Things startling, novel and foreign, may arouse\ninterest and excite wonder, but it will probably be at the expense of\nthat realisation of truth which was sought to be created.  Jesus said\n\"Like unto leaven,\" \"Like to a grain of mustard seed,\" \"Behold a sower\nwent forth to sow,\" \"Consider the lilies of the field.\"  His hearers\nsaw these things every day.  Perhaps they were in view as He spoke.\nFinally, the less hackneyed our illustrations are, the better.  If this\nwere more generally remembered we would miss, and that with a sense of\nrelief, a few grey-headed similes which, having haunted our youth,\nthreaten to haunt also our age; and which have assailed us so often as\nto create the kind of familiarity that breeds contempt.  In how many\nSunday school addresses--and a Sunday school address is preaching in a\nway--in how many such addresses have we seen the twig bent; in how many\nthe giant oak which none can train?  How often have we heard of that\nboy in Holland who saved his country by the simple expedient of pushing\nhis finger into a hole in the dyke through which the dammed-up waters\nhad begun to escape?  There is that other lad, too, who has come down\nin history by reason of his insane resolve to climb \"one niche the\nhigher\"--how often have we been told his thrilling story?  These two\nboys are no longer young and have surely earned an honourable\nsuperannuation.  That little incident of Michael Angelo and the block\nof marble from which he \"let the angel out\"--even that improving\nnarrative might with advantage be pigeon-holed for a generation or two.\nThe reason why these hardy perennials are seen in the gardens of so\nmany preachers must surely be, that every \"Treasury of Illustrations\"\ncontains them.  We have nothing to say in praise of such treasuries.\nWe have none to recommend for purchase.  The best treasury of\nillustrations is the memory of that man who keeps his eyes and ears\nopen and has a preaching mind.\n\nFollowing the naming of illustration as a means of lighting up the\nsermon comes the mention of application.  Truth must be related to be\nunderstood.  How wonderfully the application of a truth to familiar\ncircumstances makes it clear.  It may be laboriously defined and leave\nbut a dim and indistinct impression upon the mind; but apply it to the\nage, to the life of men; show its relation to the passing days, to\ndaily duties, daily trials, daily sins, and how deeply is it impressed.\nIn the greater shops are models whose business it is to \"show off\" the\ngown the shopkeeper wishes to sell by wearing it before the possible\npurchaser.  The advantage of the plan is obvious.  We must show truth\nin the wear to make it understood!\n\nAfter all these reflections, the fundamental word still remains to be\nsaid:--_Clear preaching can only come from clear thinking_.  What we\nsee _ourselves_ we may, by great effort and rare good fortune, make\nothers see; but when the preacher only beholds men as trees walking,\nhow can he make clear their features to his fellows?  The foggy sermon\noften proves the preacher's possession of a foggy mind.  \"If the light\nthat is in _thee_ be darkness, how great is that darkness,\" so said One\nof old.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nOn Appeal.\n\nIt is set before us in this last chapter of our lecture to say\nsomething in reference to appeal as an essential quality of the sermon.\nThe discourse, it must always be borne in mind, is not an end in\nitself, but a means to an end, and that end the bending of the human\nwill to \"repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus\nChrist.\"  To the full and perfect surrender which this implies men are\nfound to be opposed in every possible way.  Pride is against it;\nselfishness is against it; self-indulgence and the lusts of the flesh\nare against it.  Often, in addition to these natural elements of\nopposition, a man's reluctance to yield himself to God will be\nfortified by tradition and strengthened by association.  A hundred\ncircumstances affecting his life, his comfort, his general well-being\nmay seem to encourage, almost necessitate his refusal.  Then, again,\nthe teaching of all scripture goes to create and establish the belief\nthat there are supernatural prompters of the sinner in his rebellion\nagainst God; that the warfare of the preacher for his deliverance is\nnot against flesh and blood only, but also \"against principalities and\npowers and spiritual wickedness in high places.\"  We do not always\nquite realise all that it may mean to a man to take the step to which\nwe invite him--sometimes so lightly.  To begin the following of Christ,\nor, having already begun that following, to arise from slackness to\nwhole-hearted service, may involve the snapping of long cherished ties\nand an absolute revolution in every habit and mode of life and thought.\nBy many men the Kingdom of Heaven can only be entered at the cost of\nwhat seems to them a stupendous sacrifice and the facing of what\nappears an appalling risk.  Against all these forces and considerations\nhas the preacher to prevail, and that, through no compulsive power, but\nby exercise of such gifts of persuasion as are given unto him to be\ncultivated to that end, God's Spirit helping his efforts.  He is here\nto make men _do_--do that which on every earthly account they had\nrather not do.  Unless he accomplishes this result his work has been in\nvain.\n\nNow, it is well that the nature of the work, its greatness and the\nhardness of it, should be fully realised and constantly remembered.\nThere is always a danger of being misled by the shows of incomplete, or\nfalse, success.  In no branch of service is this more true than in\npreaching.  It is such a glorious thing to be able to gather great\ncongregations; but even this may be done and the messenger fail.  It is\nsuch a delightful thing to a preacher to watch a multitude waiting\nspellbound beneath his eloquence in rapt attention, or swept by waves\nof emotion; but that multitude may disperse, the great end of preaching\nstill unwrought and the whole attempt a splendid failure.  It is\npossible to attract people to your preaching, possible to win the crown\nof their approval, and yet come short of accomplishing the very results\nfor which you were commissioned from on high.  To please is one thing;\nto prevail against the heart of sin another.\n\nAnd with the recollection of this much-to-be-remembered truth it will\nbe well that a sense of the difficulty of the real task should abide\ncontinually with us.  Some of these difficulties, we have already\nmentioned.  The hardest to overcome are the obstacles within the mind\nand heart of the hearer himself.  It is always finally _the man_ who\nhas to be conquered.  This, we surely know through our own spiritual\nexperiences.  He is bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh.  Here is\nsurely one reason why the Master sets men to preach to men:--Because\nevery preacher has been himself a rebel and knows the way rebellion\ntakes in heart and brain.  Ours also was once the stubborn will; ours\nthe stiff neck; ours the evil heart of unbelief.  We, as well as he\nwhom we now assail for Jesus' sake, have said, \"I will not have this\nman to reign over me.\"  Once upon a time we, also, bore ourselves\nproudly and contemptuously.  Never are we weary of thinking of the\nwonder that ever we were brought to ground our arms at the Master's\nfeet.  Will the winning of others be easier than was the victory won\nover ourselves?  Now that we battle against what once we were and did,\nwe should understand from memory the immensity of the task.  Once\nrealised, it should never be forgotten.  There is no miracle in all the\nGospel history greater than the miracle of a broken human will.\n\nYes, the preacher's work is at the best a supremely hard one.  The\nsense of this hardness must get into his soul, or else all hope of\nsuccess will be vain.  Should there ever come to him a moment in which\nit shall appear an easy thing to preach, or when his knowledge of the\ncongregation awaiting him shall seem to indicate that \"anything will\ndo,\" then let him, in that moment, consider himself in peril of missing\nthe true end of his calling.  _Anything will not do_.  The very best\nwill hardly do!  Think of the hardness of the heart!  Think of the\narguments of the tempter!  Think how fair and sweet sin often seems!\nThink of all the sacrifice and self-denial and self-surrender we are\nasking from men!  Here is need for the utmost diligence; for the\ndevelopment of every latent power of persuasion; for the employment of\nevery ounce of energy, of every resource of skill; for the expenditure\nof every volt of passion the soul can contain.  We can only hope to\ncapture the citadel when the utmost possibilities of attack are brought\nto bear upon it.  Even then the garrison may hold out against us!\n\nAnd the ultimate possibilities of attack are the ultimate possibilities\nof appeal.  We speak of appeal as a quality that must pervade the whole\nof the sermon.  We have heard counsels on preaching in which advice was\ngiven about \"_the_ appeal\" or \"the _final_ appeal,\" whereby were meant\ncertain perorative paragraphs; the remainder of the discourse being\ndivided into \"introduction,\" \"exegesis,\" \"argument,\" \"illustration,\"\n\"application.\"  We remember some of these perorative paragraphs, and\nsometimes we have been tempted to ask whether the same note is struck\nin the preaching of to-day as was sounded forth in their stirring\nwords.  In spite of the homilists the sermon was generally better than\ntheir advice concerning its making and its form.  The paragraph in\nquestion, though, perhaps, neither the preacher nor his adviser\nsuspected the truth, was only powerful because it formed the climax of\nall that had gone before.  It was the final assault following upon\nprocesses of sapping and mining, bombardment and fusillade.  The appeal\nmust commence _with the first word of the sermon_.  The very\nintroduction must be persuasive.  The _motif_ of the whole composition\nmust be the wooing note.  Obviously this note will need to be struck in\nmany keys.  The appeal will have many expressions; and in their variety\nand form the skill of the preacher will have such room for exercise and\nsuch need for it as no other duty of his life displays.\n\nTo mention some of the elements of this appeal, of which, again, the\nwhole sermon is the expression:--There is first, that gift, or\nendowment, or talent--call it what you will--which we speak of as Tact.\nIn some men this power amounts almost to genius.  Of such an one we\nsay, \"he has a way with him.\"  He is the man to bring about\n\"settlements.\"  His very voice, his very manner, bring disputations to\nan end.  In political conflicts, in social misunderstandings, in labour\ntroubles he is invaluable.  In the church he is a treasure.  In the\nSunday school his price is above rubies.  In the pulpit he enjoys an\nimmeasurable advantage.  Happy the congregation whose preacher \"has a\nway with him.\"  We have known such men and envied them.  Their gift\ndefies analysis.  It is an element!\n\nOf men such as these there are, alas, comparatively few!  They are born\ninto the world with a genius for always doing the right thing in the\nright way.  Most of us enter into life with a genius for doing\neverything in the wrong way, and we can only look enviously upon our\nmore richly endowed brethren and learn from them to practise as an art\nwhat they do as the result of an inheritance.  We _can_ do this and,\nindeed, we _must_ do it if it be any part of our life's work to\ninfluence men to courses against their minds.  The sermon must be\ntactful or else, though it possess every other excellence, it will most\nsurely fail.  How often have we heard, as a criticism, the one word\n\"tactless,\" which meant that the truth had been expressed in such\nlanguage, or in such a manner as to accentuate, rather than allay, the\nopposition of the hearer; that, instead of getting _round_ the\nprejudices of the congregation by a flanking movement, the preacher had\nassailed them by a frontal attack, and so called to the ramparts every\nsleeping power of opposition.  Many a well conceived and convincing\nsermon fails from just this cause.\n\nSo then we feel inclined to urge that the cultivation of tactfulness\nshould be reckoned an indispensable part of every preacher's training,\nfor there is no prevailing with men without it.  For this, among other\nthings, he will require that thorough understanding of men of which we\nspoke in an earlier chapter--an understanding which must include a\nfamiliarity with their tastes, their prejudices, their weaknesses and\ninfirmities.  To this understanding must be added the fruits of much\nself-study and criticism.  To be able so to speak as to secure\nacceptance for the Word of Life is worth it all.  The basis of appeal\nis conciliation.  The instrument of conciliation is tact!\n\nAnd having, through the exercise of this gift of tact, secured for\nhimself and his message the toleration of the hearer, the preacher will\nproceed to make the best of the advantage thus obtained.  He has made\nhis man a listener but the great work still remains to be done, and\nagain we say that it is of all work the hardest to accomplish.  At\nonce, let us acknowledge the impossibility of outlining a method that\nwill be effective in every case.  At once, too, let us say that in no\nbranch of Christian service is so much left to the inventive and\ninitiative faculties of the worker as in preaching.  Still some\nprinciples there are which may well be named as worthy of remembrance\nin the day of action.\n\nAnd the first of these may well be this:--That the first assault should\nbe made through the intellect.  The sermon must contain, at least, a\nsolid foundation of good reasoning.  \"Come now and let us reason\ntogether, saith the Lord,\" was the prophet's invitation to Israel in\nthe day of her rebellion.  The preacher should see to it that he\n\"render a reason.\"  It is no compliment to an audience to fail to\nrecognise its mental powers.  It is something less than a compliment\nmerely to _pretend_ to argue, as is so often done.  That is not only to\nfail to produce the result we desire but to estrange the hearer still\nfurther and so make his case more hopeless than before.\n\nIt is one of the many accusations made against the modern pulpit, that\nit has fallen into the habit of begging the question and basing its\nappeals upon assumptions.  Men of mind come to hear the preacher and go\naway disappointed.  The good man declaims, but makes no real attempt to\n_prove_ the truth of his declamation, or to anticipate the mental\ndifficulties into which his statements may lead the hearer.  He makes\nstatements, but does not substantiate them.  How often we hear of the\nintellectual barrenness of the modern sermon!  How often we are told\nthat men are asked to take the most important steps, and make the most\nastounding sacrifices upon arguments which would not convince a seventh\nstandard schoolboy.  In speaking of a certain orator, some one said,\n\"There was physical power, for the preacher shouted; ho(a)rse power,\nfor in his roaring he fortunately lost his voice; water power, because\nhe wept most copiously; everything but brain power.\"  We cannot proceed\non the exploded fiction that ignorance is the mother of devotion.  The\nschoolmaster is abroad.  More than this, the denier is busy, and,\nthough his reasoning may be packed with fallacies, he can only be\nanswered by arguments as sound as his are false.  Perhaps there was\nnever a time in which the literature of unbelief had so great and\ngeneral a currency as it has to-day.  It circulates in our workshops in\nunnumbered pages, for its special attack seems to be directed against\nour working men, especially the younger members of the class.  Here,\nundoubtedly, is one of the causes of the apparent drift of the toiling\nmasses from the churches.  A preaching that is merely declamatory,\nvisionary, emotional; that takes its stand upon tradition, the\nauthority of great names the dim antiquity of its far-off past,\nfailing, meanwhile, to recognise the eager questioning of the modern\nman, must be prepared for non-success, though there may come from\ncertain quarters, even in the hour of its failure, the meed of\npopularity and applause.\n\nLet this, therefore, be laid down:--That the appeal of the sermon must\nat the beginning be the appeal of intellect to intellect.  Let no one\nbe made afraid by this statement.  It is not contended that every\nsermon must be an elaborate argument of the case for the Christian\ndemand.  This would necessitate that every preacher be a specialist in\ntheology and apologetics, which is obviously impossible.  Happily, the\nsituation, strained as it is, is not such as to render it needful that\nonly experts should venture to preach the gospel.  But it is needful\nthat the sermon stand the test of common sense and, in that way, carry\nin it its own defence.  It is needful that, as the preacher proceeds to\ndevelop his subject, the hearer shall find cause to assent to the\npositions taken up.  Otherwise it will be useless to invite him to\nforsake his own ground in order to share that from which he has been\naddressed.  Of course it must be conceded that even this modest demand\nwill mean much study for the preacher and a careful preparation of the\nsermon.  Surely, however, the end is worth the labour.  In no work is\nproficiency gained without some taking of pains.  That preacher who is\nafraid of a little toil in order that he may thereby improve his\nusefulness, and increase his success, should find proof in this fear of\neffort that his commission--if ever he had one--has expired.  One thing\nis sure:--That a sermon which fails to satisfy the intellect--we do not\nsay of the atheist or the agnostic, to whom, by the way, we are hardly\never called to preach, but of the average hearer--will ask in vain for\nthe surrender of men to God.  It may be full of sentiment and\noverflowing with emotion; it holds no true appeal!\n\nBut the intellect is not the whole of a man.  The sermon that contains\nno appeal to a hearer's emotions will fail, just as certainly as one\nthat contains no address to his reason.  If sermons are full of\nemotion, and empty of arguments, they are invertebrate and produce but\ntransient effects.  If the sermon be simply and solely an intellectual\neffort it will be cold and nerveless and ineffective.  You may\n_convince_ a man beyond all possibility of contradiction or protest,\nand at the same time utterly fail to bring him to the decision you\ndesire him to register.  Probably an analysis of most of our\ncongregations would prove that so far as merely intellectual agreement\nis concerned the great majority of hearers are already on the\npreacher's side as a result of years of hearing while, as yet,\nundecided to attempt the path so plainly stretching away before them.\n\nThe preacher must address himself to _all_ the emotions of the heart\nfor any one of them may be the means of carrying his message to that\ninnermost chamber whither he desires that it shall come.  Fear and\ncourage, doubt and confidence, all should be assailed, for the\nawakening of any one of them may bring to pass the accomplishment of\nthe preacher's glorious purpose.  Of course we have become familiar\nwith all that is said by superior persons about what they are pleased\nto decry as \"mere sentiment.\"  We know, but too well, the man who at\nonce, and invariably, characterises any preaching that touches the\nhearts of men as \"playing to the gallery,\"--the man whose one and only\ndemand is for intellectualism.  Him we know in his superiority to\nfeeling, his scorn of smiles and tears.  We know him and, thank God! we\ngenerally ignore him; as we must learn to do more and more.  The city\nof Mansoul has many gates--more, indeed, than honest Bunyan saw--and\nhappy may the preacher be if he can gain admission by any one of them!\n\nThen, although the hearer is \"a sinner,\" and must be approached as\nsuch, the sermon that will lead him furthest along the upward way will\nbe one in which it is recognised that he is not so utterly depraved as\nto be without some lingering, or latent, good to which appeal may, and\nought to be made.  Find the good in a child and by the use of it lead\nhim to the best, is a sound principle in the training of the young.  It\nis equally sound as a rule for dealing with their elders.  Find the\ngood in a man if you would save him wholly and for ever.\n\nFor \"good\" there is, and that in the very worst of men.  No doctrine of\nhuman depravity that theologians may teach can alter the fact, that,\ndeep in the heart of man, may be found a starting point whence the\nhighest heights may be gained if we have but the skill to lead him\nforward.  We may speak of him as being sick in head and heart, as \"full\nof wounds and bruises and putrifying sores.\"  It is all true and yet,\nparadoxical as it may appear, there are still in him the power to love;\nsome gift of gratitude; some sense of fair play; an elemental idea of\njustice.  There is still some secret reverence for purity and modesty\nand truth.  The preacher, notwithstanding all the schoolmen may tell\nhim, must believe this, or else he will not effectively preach.\n\nThere is much to be gained by every one in believing the best of human\nnature.  For the preacher such a belief will provide ways into the\ncity, the inner fortress of which he means to capture for his Lord.  He\nwill call upon the best qualities in his hearer to help him as he\npushes home the siege.  There is a power of loving.  Surely he will\nenlist the aid of this by reminding the wanderer of the love wherewith\n_He_ has loved him.  \"We love Him because He first loved us,\" so wrote\none whose will had been brought low what time his affection was\nentreated.  There is a sense of gratitude.  Surely this will be called\nto look upon that sacrifice on which the ages gaze!  That sense of\njustice; that elementary instinct of fair play--they, too, may be rare\ncolleagues of the messenger, if he will but enlist them on his side.\nFor this method of prosecuting his saving warfare he has precedent\nenough in the prophets:--\"And now, O inhabitants of Jerusalem, and men\nof Judah, judge, I pray you, betwixt Me and My vineyard!  What could\nhave been done more in My vineyard, that I have not done in it?\nWherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it\nforth wild grapes?\"  Here is an appeal to the inborn sense of equity\nwhich still lingered in the heart of the chosen people.  The claims of\nhonesty and chastity, of truthfulness and benevolence and gentleness\nwill not always be in vain, if the preacher will remember that some\nreverence for these things still lingers in the heart of even the most\nabandoned of men and address himself thereto.  He is the wisest of all\ncampaigners who enlists the enemy against himself.\n\nTo all these elements of human nature, then, the preacher will address\nhimself.  He will do more:--He will study times and seasons and events,\nfor times and seasons and events often produce moods which infect a\nwhole people.  We have examples of this in the moral influence of the\nfestivals of the Christian year.  They were wise men who, for all\nfuturity, connected with certain dates the outstanding events of the\nsacred history, the memory of great saints, confessors and martyrs.\nProbably we of the Nonconformist pulpits might here learn a lesson in\nhomiletic tactics from our friends of the Roman and Anglican churches.\nThere should only be one subject for Good Friday; one for Easter morn;\none for Christmastide; one for the hour wherein the old year dies.  It\nis not merely a tribute to convention to observe these seasons.  It is\nstrategically wise to do so.  The preacher should use Whitsun as an\nopportunity of leading the Church to prayer for new pentecosts; harvest\ntime to stir the slumbering thankfulness of men.  He who neglects these\nready-made chances throws away precious advantage for his appeal and\nmisses the psychological moment.\n\nSo much for the seasons and their memories.  We have experience, also,\nof the way in which the watchful and tactful preacher will profit from\nthe occurrences of his time.  In the events of the day much material\nfor the pointing of appeal may often be found.  The calamities which\nbefall; the happenings which arrest the attention of the multitude and\noften hush a whole nation with the hush of awe--he will find in these\nthings an opening to be entered on behalf of the enterprise he has in\nhand.  Very watchful must he be, for everything that touches the heart\nmay mean \"a way in\" which it were a misfortune to miss.  He must look\nfor the very slightest change of mood in his people, for so his\nlong-hoped-for chance may come.  With all he may do; after every plea\nhe may still find that the victory is unwon.  He has gained the\nintellect it may be or moved the heart; but the stubborn will still\nholds out against him.\n\nYes, notwithstanding all he may do the will may resist him still, but\nthis fact, instead of causing the preacher to give up in despair,\nshould move him to still greater efforts.  The more difficult the task,\nthe greater the honour laid upon him who is sent to attempt it.  This\nis the understanding of military life, and this should be the\nunderstanding of the preacher.  He will not fail with _all_.  Some\nthere will be who will ground their arms at Jesus' feet; some who will\ngive themselves to the living of the new life, who will accept the\ninvitation to climb the hills of God.  In every one of these the\npreacher will have ample reward for all his \"work of faith and labour\nof love\"; for he who \"converteth a sinner from the error of his ways\nsaveth a soul from death and hideth a multitude of sins.\"  To know that\nhe has done these things for one brother man will be better than the\nbreath of popularity.  Sweeter than all the compliments of men will be\nthe far-echoing \"Well done\" of Christ in that day when the messenger\nlays his commission at His feet.\n\n\n\n\nCONCLUSION\n\n\n\"And ye are witnesses of these things.\n\n\"And, behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you: but tarry ye in\nthe city of Jerusalem until ye be endued with power from on high.\n\n\"And he led them out as far as to Bethany, and he lifted up his hands\nand blessed them.\n\n\"And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them,\nand carried up into heaven.\"--_Luke_.\n\n\n\nCONCLUSION.\n\nWe approach, at last, the end of our poor attempt.  Its purpose has\nbeen to furnish a reminder of some things that are absolutely essential\nto the effective preaching of the Gospel.  Let us recall the steps by\nwhich we have come thus far upon our way.\n\nAnd first, it appeared to us that for true preaching you must have the\ntrue preacher; and the true preacher is he who, designated by Nature\nand by Divine calling, endowment and baptism, has come to personal\ncertainty in respect of the great and vital truths committed to his\nkeeping.  Surrendered to God and his work, he nevertheless realises\nthat among the trusts of which he holds stewardship is that of his own\nindividuality to be used for the ends he is sent to consummate.  He is\na man of understanding gathered in the study of truth; of men; of the\nChurch; of his own heart; of many other fields of knowledge.  He lives\nin constant realisation of the greatness of his calling; the sublimity\nof his message and the certainty of victory for Israel's side.  His\nsoul is aflame with the passion of his labour; with devotion to his\nMaster; with a love for his fellows learned at the foot of the cross.\nThe supreme fact of his life is the fact of his own spiritual\nexperience and in holy, happy memories he finds continual evidence of\nthings Divine, and constant inspiration to prosecute his mission to the\nend.  He is a man whose heart God has touched for the sake of the\nworld.  He is the chosen, qualified, and sworn ambassador of the King\nof Kings.  He is the very representative and mouthpiece of God and of\nthe Church to all with whom opportunity shall give him speech.  In all\nthis he is the successor of the first-called and qualified of the\npreaching band, making proof of his succession by faithfulness,\nholiness and success.  Such is the true preacher, whether separated\naltogether to the work of the ministry or working with his hands, as\ndid the greatest preacher of the Apostolic band, that he may \"not be\nchargeable to any.\"\n\nFrom speaking of the messenger we turned to mention what seem to us to\nbe the notes essential to a complete rendering of the message confided\nto him for transmission.  The notes of accusation and of pity, of\nidealism and edification and cheer all need to be sounded by the\npreacher who would go back, at last, to the Lord who sent him with the\njoyful boast that he has \"not shunned to declare the whole counsel of\nGod.\"  Not only this, but we heard, as we came along our way, from the\nlips of those to whom the preacher would speak, enough to prove that it\nis for a message in which these notes are heard that they wait and\nlisten.  The world longs for a Gospel which shall satisfy the mind,\nguide the conscience and comfort the heart, the while it shows the way\nto the best in the life that is and the life that is to come.  Such a\nGospel we have.  It remains only that we preach it in all its plenitude\nand promise.\n\n\"That we preach it\":--Of this actual preaching we have also had\nsomething to say, both as to its form and as to certain great\nprinciples to be remembered by the messenger always and everywhere.  It\n_does_ matter much as to the manner in which the truth is expressed.\nIt is possible to prevent the glorious results the message should\nproduce by avoidable faults in the presentation of it.  It is the\npreacher's duty, for the truth's sake, to make his sermons so\nattractive and so interesting that hearers shall not be repelled from\npartaking of the Divine provision for hungry and thirsty souls.  It is\nhis duty to make his sermons so simple in phrasing, so intelligible in\narrangement, so luminous by illustration that the average hearer shall\nreadily understand them.  To the arts of persuasion and appeal he must\ndevote special attention, for the purpose of the sermon is to induce\nmen to believe and to act upon that belief.  He must be a master of\nargument and of tact.  He must learn to use every occasion; to find and\nenter every door; to turn everything to the advantage of his one great\nend.  The sermon must be at once a work of wisdom, of grace and of art.\nIt is the preacher's weapon in the warfare of his Lord.  How carefully\nit should be fashioned; how bright it ought to be, how sharp, to reach\nthe heart of the King's enemies!\n\nAnd all these things we have brought to remembrance that, having them\nbefore us, we may be the better able to answer the question with which\nwe started out:--Whether this preaching of ours is in any way to blame\nfor that spiritual and moral slide of which we hear so much?  Are _we_\nsuch men as we have seen that preachers ought to be; so surely\ndesignated for our ministry; so wise; so sure; so full of the passion\nof our calling?  Has the message we have sought to deliver expressed\nthe whole that God has taught us and provided an answer to the deep\nquestions and strange perplexing needs of those to whom we have\nministered?  Have the sermons in which our message has been set forth\nalways been the best attempt we could make to reach the ear, subdue the\nmind and win the hearts of those who waited upon our utterance?  Is\nthere any need for self-reproach on our part, or can we answer all\nthese questions with a gladness increasing with each successive reply?\nThe reader will have a rejoinder ready.  We do not ask to hear it.  It\nwill be enough that he whisper it to his own soul and into the ear of\nGod.  It might be of infinite service to the Church and to our fellows\nif, one and all, we pushed such an inquisition to an end in our secret\nhearts.\n\nThere remains now only one word to be added, and that word, the reader\nwill perhaps have looked for earlier, for in every such discussion as\nthe present it must come to utterance.  For two reasons we have\nwithheld it until the last and they are these.  It is a word with which\nevery reader will agree, and it is the most important word which can be\nspoken or written upon the subject.  Is it necessary to say that it has\nreference to the deepest and most constant of all the preacher's\nneeds--the need of the Holy Spirit as an abiding presence in his heart,\nhis mind, his work?  Little did the Master say, as He charged those\nearly preachers, concerning the methods of their preaching; little also\nas to its substance, but many were His words concerning the Holy Ghost\nwho was to be their teacher, their remembrancer, their comforter and\nsupport.  For Him they were to tarry \"until the promise be fulfilled.\"\n\nAnd they _did_ so tarry, and lo, He came and the young men saw visions\nand the old men dreamed dreams!  Then, through the lips of plain,\nunlettered, toiling men there broke forth a new evangel upon the age\nwhich turned all the currents of the world.  New things were spoken;\nnew ideals lifted up; new hopes proclaimed, but the secret energy of it\nall was the new power that thrilled in every word.\n\nNew things the world had often heard, hopes, ideals, philosophies; some\none was always bringing such wares to market, as they bring them to\nmarket still; but scarce a ripple on the sea of life did they one and\nall produce.  These words _lived and burned_.  _Life_ was in them, and\n_fire_!  That life and fire were His whose coming had filled the upper\nroom with wind and flame!\n\nThe Holy Ghost in the heart of the preacher, and therefore in his\nmessage, filling every sermon with unction, spirituality, throb,\n_life_--can there be effective and successful preaching without THIS?\nNo, never; study you never so hard; train you never so carefully; bring\nto the work never such talents, such grace of diction, of construction,\nof delivery.  \"It is not by might nor by power, but by My spirit saith\nthe Lord\"!\n\nAnd yet there _is_ a duty of study and an obligation of training, and\nit _is_ incumbent that the most precious of our gifts be polished and\ndedicated, that the best possibilities of argument, illustration and\ndelivery be attained.  In preaching, as in all the works and ways of\nlife, God helps those who help themselves and nothing is worthy but the\nnoblest and the highest.\n\nThe Holy Ghost in the heart of the preacher honoured by the grandest\neffort the preacher can make, the utmost faithfulness he can\ndisplay:--Can it be possible that in these words the twofold need of\nthis very hour finds definition?  Can we be sure, that if such a\nsentence were turned into a prayer, and came back upon us as a gracious\nanswer to cries that would not be denied, the multitudes would not turn\nto us once again?  What preaching would there be _then_; how warm would\nbe the sanctuary; what a house of healing would it become; what a place\nof consolation and encouragement for hard-pressed men; how many\nproblems would find solution; what visions would form themselves upon\nthe darkened clouds overhanging many a human life!  Preaching would be\na living thing.  Can it be possible that _here_ and _now_ LIFE is its\ngreatest need and that the only way to obtain this life is by a return\nto that upper room of long ago?  So we end with a question, as with a\nquestion we commenced.  Since the world began it has been by the asking\nof questions that men have come to truth.\n\n\n\n\nTHE END.","title":"The Message and the Man:: Some Essentials of Effective Preaching","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":60475}