r- « ' > ■t\^. ft PRINCETON, N. J. R ^^ -JS^jMi' -*B^ )> LECTURES ON HOMILETICS AND PREACHING, PUBLIC PRAYER; TOGETHER ^VITH SERMONS AND LETTERS EBENEZER Sorter, d.d. President of the Tlieol. Seminary, Andovpr. ANDOVER : PRINTED AND PDBLISHED BY FLAGG, GOULD AND NEWMAN. NEW-YORK : JONATHAN LKAVITT. 1834. Entered, according to Act of Congress, by Flagg, Gould and Nowinan, in the Clerk's Office, of the District Court of Massachusetts, in the year of our Lord, 1834. FFB 7 18,-5 ■ %, ^/o.r'-.-.i '^pTrA''\!' PREFACE. ,Ln euieriug on my labors as Bartlet Professor of Sacred Rhetoric in this Seminary, I foinirl the office to be in some respects a new one, in the business of theological instruction. After an exam- ination of the many books that have been written on Rhetoric in gen- eral, and the comparatively few that have been written on Sacred Rhetoric, it became manifest, that I must be called to traverse a field, to a considerable extent untrodden by any predecessor. One of the first difficulties which met me, as an Instructor of our Senior Class, was the want of any single work, that I was satisfied to put into their hands, as a Text-Book on Homiletics. The best thing of the kind, as far as it went, was Feneloyi's Dialogues ; but this little work is too limited in its range of subjects, and too desultory, as to classification of the matter which it does contain, to occupy any considerable time of students so advancf d in knowledge, as our Senior Class are expect- ed to be. This deficiency is not supplied, in any adequate manner, by Claude's Essay ; — nor by the few judicious Lectures of Blair, on preaching ; — nor by those of Campbell, on Pulpit Eloquence. This state of the case leff nm no option na tu iIjo course to be pur- sued. Ii was plainly necessary for me to adapt my instructions to the immediate necessities of my pupils, and to give them aid on those principles which tliey were at once to apply in practice. Hence my precepts took a systematic fornj, as designed to exhii)jt a connected view of the points which come in requisition with a theological stu- dent, just beginning to compose sermons. Next to a warm and sanctified heart, and a sound undei-standing, knowledge respecting his own sacred employment is necessary to make the preacher a workman that needeth not to be ashamed. No man can learn to preach by study merely. He must be taught of God, or he will never understand the gospel. — He must love Christy or he will never feel the motives of the gospel, nor exhibit its truths in de- monstration of the Spirit and with power. But neither will piety alone render him skilful and powerful in the pidpit. Besides respect- able native endowments, he nnist have others that can result only from study. The preaching of the gospel is a science, which has el- ementary pi-inciples. Other things being equal, he will best suc- ceed in this sacn-d work, who best understands and applies these IV PREFACE. principles. It will be sufficient to give one illustration of my mean- ing. The young preacher who has no instruction to tlie contrary, will be likely to draw into the plan of his sermon, all that is related to the subject in hand. If he multiplies his divisions to the number of twenty-five, he feels confident that he can go on with less mental effort, than if he has but six or eight, greater and smaller. But in this labor-saving process, he spoils his sermon, by sweeping over so many things, as to make no distinct impression of any thing. The Homiletic Lectures comprised in this volume, cover only a part of the ground to which my customary instructions on these sub- jects has been extended in the Lecture Room.* It remains Avith Ilim, to whom I cheerfully commit the disposal of my lif(>, and of all my powers, to determine when, if ever, the Lec- tures still unfinished, shall be completed. Should it be his pleasure to give me stjcngth for such a purpose, it is my design to re-wi-ite for publication, a course of Lectures which I have prepared on Style ; and another course on Elocution with special reference to the Pulpit, The reader of these Lectures is requested to bear in mind, that the author has always regarded this species of didactic composition, as allowing very little scope to the imagination, and requiring that the diction slinnM possess purity, simplicity, and precision as its promi- nent qualities. His earnest hope is, that liocl will accppt and bless his humble instrumentality for the benefit of his younger brethren in the holy ministry. Tiicolngieal Sominary, ) |,]. PORTER. Andover, Jan. 1834. \ * Should it please Providence tliat I shall be able to finish my Lectures, which have been suspendod by various and unavoidable interruptions, — the plan which remains to be executed, will embrace several more Lectures on the general characteristics ol"a good sermon ; — such as, that it should be affeclinnatc and pcrsvastrc, — should have pmigcncy, I'ivacity, and va- riety ; — that it should exhibit both the law and the gospel in their just relations ; and should urge with power on the consciences of hearers, both human obligatiov, and human dependence. My plan will further embrace a di-scnssion of the faults most likely to occur in sermons, which arc preached expressly on several great doctrines, — such as the depravity, and ina- bility of sinners, — decrees and election, — repentance, faith, and regeneration. It is my intention also, to discuss the characteristics af a good preacher ; — such ns, — the influence of decided and elevated personal piety on his doctrinal sentiments ; on his motives as a preacher, — on his personal enjoyments, — his fidelity, and success. — Another class of top- ics will respect intrllrclual qanlijicatinns ; — the value oi geniv.s \.o a preacher, — o{ acquired hnowlcdgc, — of judgment and skill in the adaptation of his discourses. — Another class will respect his habits ; viz. spiritual, — intellectual, — professional ; — his closet, — his study, — liis preparation for the pulpit ; — originality and plagiarism ; — preaching extempore, — meniori- ler, — and reading votes. The advantages of expository discourses, and the best mode of iu)nduciiiig them, will likewise de-sur\(.' consideration. SYLLABUS LECTURES ON HOMILETICS PUBLIC PRAYER CONTAINED IN THIS VOLUME. [N. 11. The fiisl Lecture is introductory. It has respect to the sj'steui of i)ublic and pri- vate exercises in criticism, on original sermons of the Senior Class, which exorcises arc carrieJ on contemporaneously with the course of homiletic instruction.] LECT. I. CRITICAL EXERCISES. Laws of tlie Seminary respecting these. I. Why such exercises are important to Theological Students. 1. The preaching of the gospel is a work, in preparing for which every attainable degree of perfection should be sought. 2. No one should think himself already so perfect as to be above improvement. 3. The requisite improvement is not to be made without one's oivn efl'orts. (a) Opinion of Jolm.son on this point; — his example, as a critic on himself {h) This process of correction recjuires moi-c caution and judgment in regard to a sermon than to an essay ; but the danger lies more in wrong habits of writing, than in subsc(iucnt correction. Yet 4. No man can be so ])crfl;ct a critic on htmsetj] as not to need some aid from the judgment of olln-rs; — for two reasons; — (a) The imperceptible influence of habit. — [h) Partiality to faults which are his own. These princii)les somewhat modified by age. Other things being equal, the youngest men are generally least patient of criticism. O SYLLABUS. II. How such critical exercises should be couducted. DifTeretil characteristics of true Taste, and of that which is artificial. In public exercises devoted to critical remarks, among Clmstian students, is it best formally to aim at pointing out good qualities, as well as defects? — (a) A consideration in favor of such commendatory remarks, [b) Five reasons against them, when made as part of a system. In private criticism they may often be proper. Two cautions; — (a) Cultivate the habit of receiving censure or ap- pi-obation from others, in a proper manner. — The habit of seeking compliments, to be avoided l)y the yoimg preacher. — Officious or im- pertinent remarks, when well intended, how to be treated. — (6) Take care that the habit of criticism, on the sermons of others, shall not withdraw your attention from the great end of preaching; nor injure your spirit of piety. — Caution necessary in mingling such exercises with early efforts in public prayer, — and m preaching. — A literary censorship should be religiously avoided on the sabbath. LECT. II. HISTORY OF PREACHING. What do you know of Enoch as a religious Teacher ? — and what of Noah ? General form of religious instruction and worship in the patriarchal ages, — what was it ? — Tabernacle. Schools of the Prophets, what were they ? What change took place after the Captivity, in the qualifications and duties of religious Teachers? — and for what reasons? Read- ing of the Scriptures in synagogue worship ; — wiiat parts ? — in what method ? Pi-iests in Egypt and Persia ; — their public rank, — privileges, — services. State of assemblies to whom Christ and the Apostles preached. JVaines of the preacher and of his discourse, among the Fathers, Laics, — preaching of, — what ? Deacon, — did this office imply authority to pi'each .'' — Deaconesses, their duties. Place of public worship, among the early Christians. — Erection of churches in time of Constantine ; — Pulpit, — its name and form ; — place of Presbyters and Deacons. Time of preaching ; — viz. frequency of on week days ; number of services on the same Lord's day ; — usage of the Romish and the Greek church, in this respect. Posture, of the preacher, — what ? — also of the hearers, — Classifica- tion of hearers, — Why their faces to the east r SYLLABUS. Prayer, before sermon, and after; — how it appears that the minis- ter used his own language in prayer, among primitive Christians. Reading the Scriptures ; — by whom ? — Connexion between the passage read, and the subject of the seiTOon ; — Consequence, as to unity of sermons. LECT. III. HISTORY OF PREACHING. Subject of Sermons. (a) In ancient assemblies, hearers distin- guished into two general classes ; — Adaptation of subjects to these. — {b) Most general character of subjects in the second century ; — state of the church as to controversy. — (c) Influence of Platonic philoso- phy, in the third century, on the pulpit. — [d) From Chrysostom on- ward to the I5th century, state of preaching, as to subjects. Interpretation of the Scriptures in sermons, among the Fathers. — (a) Influence of Origen ; — to what extent his system prevailed. (6) Influence of mystical interpretation, in substituting human authority for that of the Bible. Reasoning in Sermons. — Character of, among the Fathers. Preparation of Sermons, {a) Extemporary method, — by whom in- troduced ; — evidence that St. Augustine and Chrysostom sometimes preached in this manner ; — but that general usage was in favor of written sermons, [b) In what case Augustine justified the practice of preaching other men's sermons, (c) To what extent this practice has prevailed in the English church ; — its influence on the spirit of the pulpit. Eloquence of sermons, (a) The two most distinguished ancient treatises on this subject, (b) Eloquent Latin Fathers ; — also Greek Fathers, besides Chrysostom ; — extract from the latter. Length of Sermons. (a) Mode of measuring. i(6) Customary length, why difiicult to be determined from printed sermons of the day. Effect of sermons ; as to silence and order in assemblies: — applaus- es of hearers, — what, and how far encouraged by preachers. y SYLLABUS. LECT. IV. CHOICE OF TEXTS. From what principle this practice is derived. — Why it is no ob- jection to this practice that there is nothing analogous to it in secular oratory. Rules. 1. A Text should not be chosen as the mere motto of a sermon, {a) General reason ; — not respectful to the Bible, {b) VVhich should be chosen first, — the subject or the text. Campbell's reasons for prefer- ring the former course.* — (c) Cases in which this must be adopted. — (d) Danger to be guarded against. — (e) General character of Motto Sermons. 2. There should be no affectation of peculiarity in the choice of a text. Pi'ofessed motive in such cases. — Examples. 3. ./3 text shoidd contain a complete sense of itself. — («) Explanation of this rule. — [b] When it is violated, what is generally the motive ; — (c) examples of its violation, by Bishop Home. — {d) Omission of words and phrases in the middle of a text, though the sense is not destroyed ; examples from Blair, (e) What advantages in a concise text. — The proper course for the preacher when his text contains more matter than he wishes to discuss. 4. It shoidd express a complete sense of the inspired ivriter. — The tak- ing from a coiiipuund sentence, a single clause, expressing grammat- ical sense, may, or may not be a violation of this rule: — Examples of both kinds. 5. It should fairly contain or suggest the subject of discourse. Vio- lations,— (a) wjiere there is a fanciful connexion of sound and sense; — examples. — {b) Where there is no connexion of any sort ; — exam- ples— (6) Where the apparent sense is not the true sense; examples. — [d) Accommodation of a text; — improper and proper kind of; — ex- amples. 6. A text should have simplicity. — (a) Should not demand a nice, philological exposition. Nor a theological discussion to show that the apparent sense is consistent with the preacher's subject. — [b] Should not pi'omise great efforts in the pi-eacher. * Lectures on Pulpit Eloquence, p. 267. SYLLABUS. y LECT. V. SUBJECTS OF SERMONS. (rt) State of the Clnircli in any period, how to be kjiowii from the prevalent strain of preacliing. — [b) This principle applied to four dif- ferent i)erio(ls of the church. — (f) Choice of subjects will be accord- ing to the principal end of the preacher. — ((/) Circumstances which have given character to the pulpit at different times ; — viz. celebrated models, — great emergencies in the Church. — (e) Circumstances which at all times will influence a judicious preacher in choosing his sub- jects : — capacity and cultivation of liis hearers ; — time and occasion ; — his own talents and age ; — his relation to the hearers. Four general classes of subjects. I. Doctrinal. — (a) Object of a doctrinal sermon. — {b) What is meant by essential doctrines. — (c) From what motives a man who believes these, may yet forbear to preach them. — [d) Reasons for preaching them. II. Ethical. — [a] Why this term is here preferred to practical and vioral ; — doctrines are practical. — (6) Character of sermons commonly called moral ; — and influence on hearers. — (c) What sort of subjects belong to ethical discourses. — ((/) Three cautions in public treatment of these. III. Historical. Including facts which respect an individual, a period, a community. — [a) Eulogies on the dead inexpedient, — why ? Maxim "De mortuis, nil nisi bonum." — [h) Nor may we describe all the bad qualities of the dead ; — the true course. — (c) Two difficulties in preaching on historical subjects. — [d) Several advantages; — evi- dence of facts sm'])asses other kinds, — (first) ]n fai)iiliarty and preci- sion ; (secondly) In vivacity of impression. — Examples from the Bible of the difference between abstract teaching, and illustralion of facts. IV. Hortatory. The most common yai(Z< in this sort of discourse ; — remarks on language of terror and denunciation. — Three general re- marks as to choice of subjects. The preacher should, (a) Aim at va- riety— (6) Avoid a vain love of novelty. — (c) Never be perplexed for want of subjects. • LECT. VI. GENERAL PRINCIPLES. EXORDIUM. Preliminary remarks. — (a) Necessity of a sound judgment in a preacher; — to preserve him from a mechanical uniformity in his eer- 2 10 SYLLABUS. inons ; and from disregard, on the other hand, of all settled prin- ciples, through a studied peculiarity. — (6) Necessity of pious feeling ; — what character will be imparted to his sermons by the want of this; — find by the possession of it.-^— (c) Principal parts of a sermon, — what. This classification only general, to be more or less used, according to the subject. Exordium. Its chief object, — what. — Chief obstacles to the preach- er's success, stated. — [a) Prejudice against his talents, character, or opinions; how to be treated. (6) Ignorance and indifference of hearers ; — the regard which these require, as to the mode of present- ing a subject. An exordium should possess, 1. Simplicity; this forbids, — [a) Pomp and studied ornament. — (6) Warm appeals to passions. — (c) Ostentation of learning. — [d) Abstruse thought and language. — (e) Abruptness. — Examples of proper and improper abruptness. 2. Pertinence ; it should not be, — Foreign from the subject, or occasion. — Nor general and trite. — Influence of pertinence on variety. — Introduction from the context, — advantages of. 3. Delicacy; This should arise from, — (a) Reverence towards God, &c ; — (6) respect to hearers. — It does not require (^a) timidity ; — (6) nor formal apologies for defects of the preaclier ; — objection to these. — (c) It forbids an angry, austere manner. 4. Judicious length ; — («) Practice of old divines ; — of some modern ones. — (b) The kind of matter common in long exordium. — (c) Two brief reasons why inexperienced preachers are apt to dilate the first thoughts of a sermon. LECT. VII. EXPOSITION. PROPOSITION. Exposition of the Text. — («) When, after due examination, we sup- pose ourselves still not to understand a text, what course is proper. — {b) Explanatory remarks, may be useful where no difficulty is to be remov ed ; — and may fall in with the exordium. — (c) Where a regular exposition of the Text is called for, there is a diflerence between the office of the critic and of ihe preacher. Practical principles to be observed by the latter. 1. He may err by supposing too many difficulties in his way. — [a] Tendency of this slate of mind in a preacher. — [b) To what extent the Bible is a plain book ; — how the supposition, that, on essential points, it is necessarily unintelligible to plain, pious men, is inconsist- ent with the grand principle of Protestantism. — (c) Why reasonable to expect that it would be intelligible to such men, if we consider by whom, for whom, and for what purpose, it was written. — Evidence that it has been correctly understood by such men. Yet, SYLLABUS. 11 2. He may err by taking it for granted, that the obvious is alivaysthe true sense.— (a) Reasons why this ought not to be expected;— great diversity of matter and phraseology in the Biiile ; — local customs, — figures. (6) Examples of allusions to oriental customs, in which the terms do not obviously convey the true meaning, viz. from language of Moses, — and of Christ. 3. He may err by aiming to find a new sense to his text. — [a] Mo- tives that may lead to this course. — (6) Random censures, in sermons, of the received translation ; — why improper. — (c) Excess of criticism in the pulpit, — condemned by Campbell; — his reasons.— ((/) What was the example of Christ and the Apostles in relation to this subject ? — (e) How a man's critical knowledge, without any ostentation of it, may benefit his hearers. When the sense of the text is ascertained, 'and exhibited, it is an- nounced in the Proposition.— [a) Difterence in the signification' of ?this term, as used in logic, and as used in oratory. — Examples of eacii — Either is proper in a sermon ; — which most favourahle to imity. — [h] Manner of announcing propositions. Two suggestions of caution. LECT. VIII. Unity ; — (a) Why is it that soiue do, and others do not consider di- visions as inconsistent witli unity ? — [b] Unity difterent from same- ness.— (c) Unity with and without variety. Illustrations ; from a journey; from navigation, Applied to a dull uniformity in the matter and method of sermons. Unity in a sermon requires that it be, 1. One in subject. — (a) Violated, by too many preparatory topics, diverting hearers from the main point," yvhen there is one. How exemplified in Claude's plan on Acts 2: 27. " Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell," «fcc. Subject, the resurrection of Christ ;— introduced by a discussion of Peter's inspiration ;— and the notion concerning "limbus patrum.^'' — [b) Violated by introducing a system of religion in- to each sermon. 2. One in design. — {a) I?es%Ji a distinct thing; from^su6/ec<. Ex- ample ; It is this which should leave on the; hearers some one distinct and predominant impression. 3. One in adjustment of its parts to the^principal end, and to each other. — (a) Grand principle in preaching, viz. — a sermon should pro- duce an efl^ect as a whole. — How accomplished. — Its materials should be chosen and arranged with a view to this. — {b) Illustration from works of art; from architecture; (c) from landscape garden- ing, {d) from historic and portrait painting ; (e) from epic and 12 SYLLABUS. dramatic poetry. — Character of a sermon made up of a successioji of good remarks, unconnected : — or of striking sentences, — or bril- liant passages, — independent of a main object. 4. One in mode of Illustration. — (a) Every topic, figure, &c. sh ould serve to fix the main subject more deeply in mind. — [b) Does unity forbid divisions.' LECT. IX. DIVISIONS. 1. Objections to divisions. — (a) They give an air of stiftness, and take away the interest which an intelligent hearer has in discovering the method for himself — Ans. To intelligent hearers, divisions are not useless ; — and to plain hearers they are indispensable ; — especial- ly in a spoken discourse. — (6) Obj. Divisions are a scholastic device, unknown in ancient oratory. Ans. Ancient orators, though not formal, had method. Examples from Cicei'o, in which his method was distinctly announced. 2. Utility of divisions. By these is meant, not occult but obvious divisions. — Not essential tliat heads be always marked numerically ; several ways of marking them to hearers. — Doddridge's advice and example. Method promotes, (a) Perspicuity. — {b) Beau- ty; Illiist. — disorder in a fine library. — (c) Brevity ; how ])ro- moted ; — [d) Energy ; order strengthens impression by combin- ing the power of separate arguments ; by relieving attention ; — and promoting vivacity. — (e) Memory, is aided ; viz. of the preacher, — and hearers, Illustrated from the philosophy of memory; from facts, viz. plan of a city, — introduction to strangers in a room; — aid of method to memory as an associating principle. — Story of Joseph compared with lists of names in Chronicles. — Kind of ser- mons that are in fact most easily remembered by common people. Test from the practice of uote-taking, and of repeating ser- mons in families. LECT. X. DIVISIOIS'S. 3. Kinds of divisions. — (a) The verbal or textual ; — (b) The topical ; — The principle of each stated. Exam])lc of the kind of division re- quired by each, on this text, "Add to your faith viitue, and to virtue knowledge," &c. And on this, " To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." — (e) The scholastic; — pruiciple of; — Example of division, ou text — " He that believeth shall be saved ;" and on this, " The just SYLLABUS. 13 shall live by faith." 'Example of a deliberative oration on the same plan. 4. Rules by which divisions should be conducted. They should be, — (a) JVecessarij. — When they are so. — [h) Well arranged. Chief principles of arrangement in difl'erent cases, according to order of cause and effect ; order oftime ; — of genus and species. — In some cases, the order of heads is nearly indifferent, — in others it is essen- tial.— Examples of both kinds. — (c) Complete. — what is meant. — Il- lustration from light and colours ; — from a geographical description of a whole by its parts. — [d) Few; — Illustrated by a map. — Multipli- cation of divisions in the seventeenth century. — (e) Concise in terms. — Reason of this rule ; — Example of verbose division from Wei wood's sermons. — How l)revity of terms is jiromoted by aid of grammatical ellipsis. Examples of brevity in the form of heads, by such an ar- rangement as to suspend them all on some one connecting term, or clause. LECT. XI. ARGUMENT. (a) Some who allow reasoning to be proper in secular oratory, ob- ject to it in the pulpit ; Why ? — The objection not well grounded. — (b) Influence of such an opinion ; on the preacher, on the hearers. — (c) Moral evidence, and not demonstration, is ajipropriate to the reasoning of pulpit. Still it docs not follow that a knowledge of intellectual philosophy, and of geometry, are useless to the preach- er;— nor that religion does not admit of certei?i<_J/. Sources of argument. 1. The Bible is the chief source of argument in the pulpit. — (a) On some subjects the onhj soin-ce. — In regard to subjects and evidence of this sort, what is the proper province of reason. — {b) How may we fail in giving j)rominence to the divine testimony. — Examples of this defect. — (c) Sermons of Edwards, — in what respects a pattern of reasoning from the Scri[)tures. — {d) On some subjects ])roofs are mix- ed,— partly from the Bible, partly from other sources. Examples of this sort. 2. Consciousness. — Distinction between this and conscience Strength of this evidence. To what purposes this kind of evidence is most applicable. 3. Common sense — (a) Why propositions of this class are called self evident. (6) Example from Tillotson, to show how this sort of evidence may be employed in sermons. — (c) How this sort of reason- ing applies to the doctrine of strict imputation of Adam's sin. Also to the natural inability of sinners. 14 SYLLABUS. LECT. XII. ARGDMENT. 4. Evidence of facts ; — including experience, testimony and au- thority.— («) A general law of tlie material and intellectual worlds stated, according to which facts become the basis of argument. — {b) To what extent this sort of evidence may be used in sermons. — (c) Cases in which tesiimony, as proof in sermons is liable to abuse. — [d) Authority, its abuse, — its true weight. — (e) Practical bearing of this last topic on the evidence of what doctrines are taught in the Bible. Rules of Argument. I. In reasoning from the Bible, its unperverted meaning\rnust clearly support the point to be proved. 1. In adducing proofs from the Bible, the grand principle of Protest- antism must be adhered to, that our faiih must conform to the Bible, and not the Bil)le to our faith. — (a) Violations of this principle ; (6) Their tendency ; 2. But though there be no perversion, the proof may be obscured, by quoting, (a) too many texts ; (6) or too few ; — (c) or by bare quotation of the text, where comment also is necessary to show its bearing. [d) Examples on the last point. — (e) Cases in which scriptural proof is made out by comparison and induction. II. In reasoning, from tvhatever source, we should consider the infu- ence of passion and prejudice on belief. (a) This influence illustrated. — (6) Advantage of Analytic method, in such cases. LECT. XIII. ARGUMENT. III. Arguments shoidd be simple, — that is, not complicated, nor ab- stract; (a) Grounds of this rule. — (6) Prejudices against metaphy- sics, often extreme. — A truth may be mysterious, while the proof that it is a truth, is plain. — (c) Use of metaphysics ; and abuse, [d) Rhetorical reasoning better than abstract, for sermons. Language of metaphor and imagination not inconsistent with the dig- nity of religion ; — example of the Bible. IV. Arguments should not be too many. — Disadvantages of accumu- lation. V. Shoidd be xvell aiTanged — (a) Remarks on the best order in introducing ])roofs from the Bible, Avhen these are connected with a series of proofs from other sources. — Illustrations. — (b) On alternative of two places for a topic. — (c) On relation of time, cause, SYLLABUS. 15 and effect, &c. — [d) On negative heads. — (e) On the antithetic form of reasoning. — (f) On reasoning from Authority. Vr, Avoid a controversial strain of reasoning. — {a) Three ways of refuting objections. -(6) When we'must meet them in form, — SIX cautions suggested. LECT. XIV. CONCLUSION. (a) Recapitulation, — in wliat cases useful, — Example of Cicero, — (h) continued or running application, when allowable. Faulty conclusions of sermons. 1. The formal conclusion. What it is ; exemplified in sermons of the Puritans. Change after the restoration of Charles II. 2. The desultory ; What leads to this. 3. The dry, what it is. To make a good conclusion the preacher must, — 1. Aim at prac- tical effect, — aim to impress the hearers as individuals. How far this effect depends on the design of the preacher. 2. Understand the principles of the human mind. (a) Aid of this knowledge m a])plying truth. — Rule illustrated. [h) In appli- cations, difference between personality and individunlity ; The former, why improper in an uninspired preacher ; — often alleged, however, when there is no fault in the preacher. — Application by the agency .^of conscience ; — Examples from French pulpit. 3. Arrange the parts of a sermon so, if practicable, that they may tend to a single effect in the close. (a) Convergent metliod, and divergent; — how the former is analogous to the current of a river. {b) In adjusting the plan of a sermon, how far should the top- ics of conclusion be previously setded ? (c) Inferences. cautions respecting ; advantages of. 4. Make an appeal to the heart. The pathetic, Five Remarks on ; viz. 1. Demands SI m/^h'c% in execution. 2. Not to be confounded with cmoh'o?i generally. 3. Not to be protracted. 4. Requires moral painting. 5. Though high powers in the pathetic are wanting to a preach- er, this is no reason why ho slio(dd be dull and cold. LECT. XV. STYLE OF THE PULPIT. I. How far it may be professional and peculiar ? — (c) Religion must have its own technical terms. — (i) In other respects, should con- form to general laws of style. 16 SYLLABUS. II. PecuUaj-ities, amounting to faults, arise from — (a) designed imitation of scriptural language. — {b) Using familiar terms abstractly or myslicalbi . — (c) Reading old authors, and catching their diction. — [d] Influence oi' conversation-dialect. III. Properties of a good style for a preacher — 1. Simplicity. This requires him, — [a) Never to use a hard word, when a jjlain one will express his lueauing.— (fc) Never to use a common word, in an un- common sense.— (c) To avoid display of reaf/ing.— Metaphysical ob- scurity; — Clasical quotations and allusions. — {d) To guard against taking it for granted that words familiar to himself, as a scholar, will be so to plain hearers. 2. Seriousness. This is opposed — (a) To ridicule ; — {b) To levity and witticism, in any form; — (c) To affected smartness, and sparkling ornament. 3. Earnestness. What is requisite in the man, to give this quali- ty to his style. LECT. XVI. DIRECTIONS IN FORMING A STYLE, GENERALLY. 1. Remember that thought is the basis of style. Writing with no object, except to form a style, its ten- dency. 2. Study your own genius. — Mistake of Plato, writing poetry. 3. Study the best models. — (a) In point of style, what benefit may a student for the ministry derive fi-om reading the Classics 7 — (b) What, from reading poets, to one who writes only prose ? — (c) Will one acquire the style of popular address by reading essays? — {d) What period of English literature furnishes the best models ? — (e) Compar- ative value of Scotch models. — (f) In reading authors as models gen- erally, what caiUions requisite ? 4. Maintain the habit ofivriting. — [a) Perseverance and resolution in this case, important in early life, as connected with subsequent usefulness. — [b] Despatch in writing, — on what things it depends ; — habits of Johnson, as to despatch. — (c) Change in the characteristics of English style, since the time of Addison ; — reasons of this change. — [d) Over-exactness in writing, and hurry, both to be avoided. 5. Take it for granted that your best performance is capable of subsequent amendment. — Different methods adopted by respectable men, iii the act of composing, to diminish the labor of correction. — Very strong and sacred obligations rest on young ministers of the present day to cultivate skill in writing. SYLLABUS. It GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. LECT. XVII. EVANGELICAL PREACHING. I. Sermons should be evangelical. I. What is evangelical preaching? [a) Different kinds of pln-aseology to express this, used in the New Testament. — (6) Why Cin-istianity, like every other science or system, must be taught by the exhibition of its elementary principles ? — (c) Difference between a discourse of Socrates, and a Christian sermon, on the same subject, e.g. the being of a God, or the doctrine of im- mortality.— [d) a caution suggested. II. All preaching should be evangelical. 1. Such preaching might reasonably be expected to answer better than any other the great ends of preaching. — {a) Brief mention of chief points in the evangelical system. — [b) Why these are adapted to give special interest to preaching. 2. Evidence of facts shows it to be so. — [a) Apostolic and primitive ages ; — Reformers ; — English Puritans ; — Time of Whitefield ; — (6) Testimony of Priestly, — of Orton, — Bogue and Bennet, — Andrew Fuller. — (c) Similar results of preaching on the Continent of Europe. — (d) Evangelical preaching of American Fathers. LECT. XVIII. INSTRUCTIVE PREACHING. II. Sermons should be instructive. 1. What things are requisite to make a sermon instructive ? (1) It must have an important subject. (2) Should be perspicuous, in method and language. (3) Should be rich in matter. To render sermons so, the preach- er should have, — (a) respectable capacity. — (b) Fixed habits of read- ing and thinking. — (c) Should read and tliink as a preacher, — and with systematic classification of acquired knowledge. — (d) In aiming to en- rich sermons with matter, should avoid two mistakes, — a sweeping generality, — and an effort at jxu-pctual novelty. (4) Should have the form of discussion, rather than of the desidtory manner. (5) Should exhibit truth in its connexions. 3 18 syi.LABlS. LECT. XIX. INSTRUCTIVE PREACHING. 2. The preacher should aim to instruct his hearers. This appears, — (1) From the constitution of the human mind, — as in- fluenced by motives. (2) From the nature of the gospel, — a sa system of truths, on which is predicated a system o^ duties. (3) From the best e.ramj5/cs of preaching. (4) From the best effects of preaching. — (a) Ignoranceof the gospel in a Christian country, why criminal, and fatal to the souls of men. — (b) Revivals of religion, why not common under British preaching. — Deficiency of modern, British sermons as to doctrinal instruction. — (c) The difference in American churches, betwixt convei'sions under a ministry of light, and those Avhich occur under preaching that aims at emotion without instruction. (5) The tendency of instructive preaching to promote the unity arid strength of the church. — (a) By producing respect and attachment of hearers to their minister. — (b) and harmony of views among them- selves.— (c) Unity of faith founded on knowledge, gives strength to a church. — (d) Mournful examples of an opposite character. LECT. XX. DIRECTNESS IN PREACHING. III. Sermons should have directness ; — that is, the preacher should so conduct his address, as to make each hearer feel, "He preaches to me." I. JFhat constitutes directness in preaching "^ — It implies such an ex- hibition of a subject that the hearers shall, — (a) Understand it ; — i. e, not in an unknown tongue ; nor on a subject too recondite for their comprehension. — (b) Perceive its pertinence and importance to them- selves.— Illustrated in the preaching of Christ ; — and of Whitefield. II. Causes which produce indefinite and indirect preaching. 1. Want of intellectual precision in the preacher. — Defect in his mind as to, — (a) JVative structure, or, — (b) intellectual habits. — Hence want of discrimination, and adaptation to different classes and chai'ac- ters, among hearers. LECT. XXI. DIRECTNESS IN PREACHING. 2. Indefinite preaching may arise from false taste in the preacher; -that is, want of rhetorical skill in expression, (a) — Generality in SYLLABUS. 19 terms, — and formation of sentences. — Illustrated in note, by examples from Johnson, — Chalmers, — Baxter. — (b) The periphrastic drapery of diction illustrated by farther examples from Chalmers and Irving. — (c) .The same principle applied to figures in style. 3. Indefinite preaching may arise from constilutional delicacy of temperament i?j the preacher. — Illustrated in Bishop Porteus. 4. — From absolute want of piety, or a low state of piety in the preacher.^ — (re) How a man's manner, as to explicit declaration of the truth, will be modified by supreme regard to himself, — and to God. — [h) Use of evangelical terms, while no one doctrine of the gospel is preached. — (c) Indefinite language never resorted to in any serious business of this world. LECT. XXII. DIRECTNESS IN PREACHING. 5. Indefinite preaching may arise from ivrong theory in the preacher, as to the best mode of exhibiting divine truth. — The pi'inciple assumed is, that men are predisposed to love the truth, if skilfully exhibited ; and that feelings of opposition must result from some fault in the preacher. — Inconsistency of this theory with the Bible and facts. 1. The Bible represents unsauctified men as predisposed, not to love the truth, but to oppose it. 2. The theory in question has no countenance from the ministry of Christ. 3. Nor from the general evidence of facts. — Recapitulation. — Con- cluding reflections on the influence of indefinite preaching upon our churches ; — and on the obligations of ministers to give an explicit and undisguised exhibition of the whole gospel in their sermons. LECTURES ON PUBLIC PRAYER. LECT. I. HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. [a] Number and length of prayers in the ancient sjnnagogue wor- ship.— {b) Two reasons why Christ found fault with Jewish prayers in liis time. 1. Order of public prayer, in the early Christian church. — (a) Reg- 20 SYLLABUS. iilar season for prayer, between the sermon and the communion ; offered in successive, distinct y)rayers, adapted to the case of distinct classes. — [b) Who might be present at the communiou jjrayers. 2. Posture in prayer. — (a) Standing and kneehng, — usage i-espect- ing. — [h) Face directed towards the east, probable origin of the custom. 3. Length of Prayers. How it appears that declension in the spirit of piety, has tended to formality, and undue length in prayer. — [a] In the Jewish church ; — (6) And in the christian. 4. Praying to Christ, and in his name. This practice authoriz- ed in the New Testament. Common also among primitive Chris- tians ; — this shown, — (a) From Pliny's letter to Trajan. — [h] From doxologies used in prayer ; — specially confirmed by Basil's allusion to Arius. 5. Praying for the dead. — (1) When this practice was first men- tioned ;— case in which Augustine adopted it. (2) Steps by which the practice was introduced ; — (a) Purpose for which tiie dead were first mentioned in prayer ; — [h] Connexion of this superstition with current opinons respecting Hades : — also the frst resurrection ; — (c) Influence of natural affection. LECT. II. ANCIENT LITURGIES. (a) No authority for them in the primitive Jewish church ; — [b) None given by Christ ; — Lord's Prayer, — remarks on. — (c) When and how forms were introduced. — [d) Farther evidence, that they were not used in the primitive, christian chui-ch. — (e) English Liturgy, — how and when formed. EXPEDIENCY OF FORMS. GENERAL DIRECTIONS RESPECTING PRAYER. Arguvients used in favor of Forms. 1. If they are not enjoined, they are at least allowed in the Bible, to such as think them expedient. 2. They are a necessary guard against the improprieties and irre- gularities of extemporary prayers. 3. The principle involved is the same as in using precomposed psalms or hymns, in devotion. Remark on this argument. Objections offered against Forms. 1. They are inconsistent with freedom and fervency in devotion. Facts alleged on this ])oint. 2. Extemporary prayer is not necessarily nor commonly extrava- gant in manner. 3. No set of forms can be sufliciently various to correspond with SYLLABUS. 21 the objects and occasions of prayer. Illustration from transactions of common life ; from revivals of religion and families. 4. There is more danger of embarrassment in praying by forms than without them. Illustration from facts. LECT. III. DIRECTIONS AND ADVICE RESPECTING THE PROPER PERFORMANCE OF PUBLIC PRAYER. 1. Remember that your amount of usefulness in the ministry, depends much on the character of your public prayers. The proper influ- ence of these ou success in preaching : — (a) As connected with the blessing of God;— (6) As promoting solemnity and candor in hearers; — (c) As connected with the preacher's own state of mind, and its in- fluence on his sermons. — [d) Prayer used by Doddridge, preparatoiy to writing a sermon. II. If you would pray ivcll in public, you must be a devout man. (a) Why the hahit of devotional feeling is essential, in this case. (6) How this habit is to be cidtivated by a minister ; — Influence of main- taining secret prayer as a matter of form ; — also o^ irregularity in it; — Consistency in spiritual habits, — why important. III. Let the matter of your prayers correspond to the occasion, — and to the objects for luhich you pray. There is no point, in which intelligent christians so often feel a de- ficiency in the public prayers of ministers, as in loant of matter. To guard against this deficiency, — [a] Enter with deep feeling into the circumstances of an assembly, convened in the presence of God, — for his worship, their diversity of character, obligation, prospects, necessities. — [b] Cultivate the hal)it of reflection on the proper sub- jects of prayer. — Replenish your stock of devotional thoughts from the Bible, and the writings of holy men. IV. Let your method have connexion, without studied formality. (a) Order in thought, why specially proper in addressing God. — Its influence on matter and length in prayer. — [b) How far it is best for for a young preacher to regard the usual heads of prayer. — (c) Rigid exactness of method, — Newton's objection to. — Orton's change of views, as to premeditation and method. V. Your language in prayer, should be adapted to the solemnity of de- votion. It shoidd have, 1. Simplicity. This requires that you avoid, — (a) Low words, and colloquial familiarity. — [b) A learned j)hraseology. — (c) Poetical or- nament.— [d] Scholastic exactness. 2. Fervor. How the language of the heart, in direct confession, petition, or praise, differs from a didactic prayer. — How the didactic habit is sometimes acquired. Scriptural language in prayer ; (a) 22 SYLLABUS. » Advantages of. — (b) Obscure passages, however, not proper ; — Ex- amples.— (c) Mutilation and misapplication improper ; — Examples. VI. Proper atlention should be given to external manner. 1. Countenance. Face, — proper expression of. — Eyes, misman- agement of. 2. Attitude and gesture. — Movement of the body, and action of hands, — how fir called for in prayer. 3. Voice. — (a) Key that is most suitable. — (b) (Quantity ; — What extremes to be avoided. — (c) Inflections ; — how different from those of familiar speech. — [d) Cadence ; — bad liibit respecting. LECT. IV. FAULTS IN PRAYER. His own, why not likely to be known to a minister. 1. Improper habit as to length in prayer. — (a) Why no one is con- scious of his own length ; — why error is more common on the side of length than of brevity. — (6) Some regard should be had to usage, — why. — What may be considered as a proper, and what an excessive length in a prayer before sermon. — Remarks of several devout ministers. — (c) The most general precaution against undue length. — Prayer after ser- mon. 2. Too frequent recurrence of favorite ivords, &c. Objection against such a habit as it respects, — (a) Titles and attri- butes of God. — [b) Set phrases, as — " We pray thee," &c. — How these tend to produce /lesitaiion. — (c) Interjection O, — proper and improper use of. 3. Injudicious use of pauses. — (a) Appearance of embarrassment in a preacher's prayer ; — its influence on the minds of his fellow wor- shippers.— (6) How this appearance is produced by an unskilful habit as to pauses. — and by complex sentences. Detached sentences, without any train of thought. 4. Irreverent familiarity in addressing God. — (a) How this habit is probably produced. — (6) Example of the apostles on this point. 5. Language of censure and of compliment in prayer. Example for illustration. Impression made by such passages in prayer, on intelligent, devout Christians. 6. The practice of making direct reference to the preacher's oicn infirmities and sins, in public prayer. — Two reasons against this, as a common thing. Occasional prayers. Brief suggestions respecting these. — (a) Shun those things which you have marked as prominent faults, in the prayers of your brethren. — [b] It is indispensable that occasional pray- ers be appropriate. — (c) Praying with the sick, — circumstances which often render this a difficult duty ; Family prayers. COIVTENTS. LECT. I. page. Introductory — Critical Exercises ----- 25 LECT. II. History of the Pulpit 37 LECT. III. History of tlie Pulpit - - - - - - -*48 LECT. IV. Choice of Texts 59 LECT. V. Choice of Subjects. — General Principles. — Foin* classes of sub- jects,— Doctrinal, Ethical, Historical, Hortatory - - 70 LECT. VL Sti'ucture of Sermons. — General Principles. — Exordium - 84 LECT. VIL Explication of Text. — Precautions. — Proposition - - 96 LECT. VIIL Unity 107 LECT. IX. Division. — Objections. — Utility ..... HQ LECT. X. Division. — Different kinds. — Rides - ... - 123 LECT. XL Argument in Sermons .-._.._ 129 LECT, XIL Argument. — Rules ....... 139 LECT. XIII. Rules of Argument .._.__. 149 LECT. XIV. Conclusion of Sermons - - - - - - -158 LECT. XV. Style of the Pulpit. — Faults. — Excellencies ... 172 LECT. XVL Directions in fonning a style ----.. 183 LECT. XVII. General Characteristics of Sermons. — Evangelical - - 200 LECT. XVIII. General Characteristics Instructive - . . . 212 24 CONTENTS. I LECT. XIX. General Characteristics. — Instructive - . . . 221 LECT. XX. General Characteristics. — Directness .... 233 LECT. XXL General Characteristics. — Direct. — Explicit - _ - 241 LECT. XXII. General Characteristics. — Direct. — Explicit ... 251 LECT. XXIIL Cultivation of Spiritual Habits, and Progress in Study - 262 LECTURES ON PUBLIC PRAYER. LECT. L History, Order, Posture and Length of Public Prayers. — Prayer to Christ '-283 LECT. IL Use of Liturgies ..__._. 291 LECT. III. General directions on Public Prayer _ - _ . 299 LECT. IV. Faults in Prayer - - - . - - -311 SERMONS. SERMON I. DocU-inal.— Love to God. Matt. 22: 37, 38 - - - 323 SERMON II. Doctrino-Practical. — Love to God. Matt. 22: 37, 38 - - 324 SERMON in. Ethical. — Foresight of Futurity. Jer. 8: 7 - - - 346 SERMON IV. Historical. — Religious Decision. Dan. 6: 10 - - - 360 SERMON V. Hortatory. — The careless sinner warned. Isa. 1: 18 - - 376 LETTERS. LETTER I. On Books and Reading - 389 LETTER II. On Books and Reading 399 LETTER III. Rhetorical Studies in Senior year - . . . . 415 LECTURES. LECTURE I. Introductory. — Critical Exercises. Xhe Laws of this Seminary require, that each sermon of the senior students, after it has been corrected, " shall be transcribed and re-examined, as often as the officer by whom it is examined shall deem necessary ; and that no sermon shall be publicly delivered in the Seminary, by any student, which has not been thus regularly examined and approved. Besides the great responsibility attached to this branch of instruction, there is an intrinsic delicacy connected with it, which does not appertain, in the same measure, to any other of our public exercises. For this reason, I shall now bring together a number of considerations, which may serve to show, at once, why such critical exercises are important, and how'\thcrj may he rendered m,ost profitable. I. The preaching of the gospel is a great loork. In the magnitude of its objects, it surpasses, beyond all comparison, every other employment in which men can engage. This might be illustrated, did my limits allow the detail, by an ample exhibition of facts, showing that the highest degrees of intellec- tual cultivation, of civil liberty, and of social order, which are found in the most favored communities, result not so much from all other causes combined, as from the sanctifying influence produced by the faithful preaching of the gospel. But the consideration which attaches preeminent importance to this work is, that God has appointed it as the grand instru- ment of salvation to men. The scheme of redemption is an 4 26 I CRITICAL EXERCISES. object to which all other objects and events, in our world, are subordinate. This is the radiant point, where all the attributes and works of God convei'ge into a blaze of glory. In contem- plating the ' great mystery of godliness, into which angels desire to look', we see how infinite wisdom, love, justice, and grace unite in the forgiveness of sin, and in suspending the immortal hopes of sinners on the cross of Christ. Now the principal means, which God has instituted to make known this scheme of mercy to a lost world, is the preaching of the gospel. This consideration invests the preacher's work with a character of exalted and awful dignity, which very far transcends the most elevated employments of this world. Well did Paul say, and had he been an angel, well might he have said ; " Who is suf- ficient for these things ?" Surely then, a pious, uninspired man should aim at the highest attainable degree of perfection, in his preparation for this work. 2. No man who has any just conceptions of this work, and of his own acquisitions, will think himself already so perfect as to be above improvement. He who has made any real progress in wisdom, will see at every step of his researches, a field opening before him, that is absolutely boundless. His sermons cannot be rich in thought, unless his materials ai'e drawn from inexhaustible resources : and to these he cannot have access, without patient, assiduous, well directed, and long continued application. But supposing him to be a " scribe well instructed," and furnished with ample stores of biblical and theological learning, he may be very un- skilful in " bringing forth" these treasures, for the instniction of others. His style may be vidgar, or inaccurate, or unintelligi- ble, or dry, or feeble. In one or more of the qualifications, requisite to form an able preacher, very few, at any age, or in any circumstances, are free from considerable imperfections. To any young man, then, it can be no reproach, to acknowledge himself imperfect. 3. To correct our own defects, and to increase our qualifi- cations for usefulness, is a work which requires our oivn efforts. INTRODUCTORY. 27 No process, in which one is merely passive, can transform him into an able preacher, or a useful man in any respect. Impor- tant acquisitions, of every kind, must be the result of care and labor. '' There is no royal road" to knowledge in our profes- sion, more than in others. It would indeed be unwise, at this day, for a christian student to adopt a course like that of the Athenian orator, who transcribed the history of Thucydides eight times, with his omi hand, that he might learn to imitate the conciseness, strength, and fire of the historian. But the same industri/, though it may be better applied, in this age of books, is as necessary as it was in the age of Demosthenes. " Men," says Johnson, " have sometimes appeared, of such transcendent abilities, that their slightest and most cursory per- formances excel all that labor and study can enable meaner in- tellects to compose ; as there are regions of which the sponta- neous products cannot be equalled in other soils by care and culture. But it is no less dangerous for any man to place him- self m this rank of understanding, and fancy that he is born to be illustrious without labor, than to omit the cares of husbandry, and expect from his ground the blossoms of Arabia." Johnson was practically acquainted with the principle of Quinctilian, " that it is the work of correction to add, to retrench and to change. That it is comparatively easy to determine what parts require amplification or abridgement ; but to repress the tumid, to raise the low, to prune the luxuriant, to restrain the extrava- gant, to condense the diffuse, is a labor of double difficulty." It deserves to be remembered that Johnson was neither too indolent nor too fastidious to become a critic on himself. His Rambler, which, as it was first published, competent judges had classed among tiie finest specimens of English composition, he almost rewrote for subsequent editions. Chalmers, in his bio- graphical preface to the Rambler, has preserved one of its ori- ginal papers, as a literary ciu-iosity. Any student who will carefully compare this witii the corrected copy, and see with what punctilious inspection, this great man revised his own com- position, will find himself amply repaid for his trouble. 28 CRITICAL EXERCISES. I am aware that this critical process, when employed in the correction of a sermon, needs to be conducted with more caution and judgment, than in the case of an essay, where the heart may slumber, while the intellect is engaged in adjusting the parts of sentences. But the fervor of feeling, which is indis- pensable in the compositions of the preacher, is injured, not so much by subsequent correction, as by the refrigerant proceeding too often adopted, in the original discussion of a subject, in which the writer forgets his main business, to search for favorite forms of expression. I cannot too often repeat the remark, that the on- ly adequate remedy for this difficulty, is to acquire such habits of correctness, that propriety of language shall be spontaneous, and cost no labor of reflection ; while the thoughts to be com- municated, should engross the attention. But to form these habits in a young writer, it is necessary that he should be accustomed carefully to revise, after a proper interval, every production of his own pen. That this labor does not, of course, tend to destroy the spirit of a sermon, is evi- dent from the fact, that to this very process we are indebted for the most animated, energetic, and eloquent discourses, that have ever issued from the press. And to the want of this, in a gi'eat measure, we may ascribe the superabundant supply of those, which deserve a different character. But patience in revising our own composition, is not all that is requisite on this subject, because, 4. No man, however accurate, or however desirous of im- provement, can be so perfect a critic on himself, as not to need at least occasional aid from the judgment of others. The reasons of this remark, as applicable to the ^\Titer of mature and well disciplined mind, are chiefly two. One is the imperceptible influence of habit. It is not ray purpose here, to analyze those laws of mind, on which the power of habit de- pends. The fact is too obvious to be proved, that this power does exist, and exert an important influence upon our whole course of thinking and acting. The constant recurrence of any object or event diminishes the interest which it excites in the INTRODUCTORY. 29 mind. On this principle, we gradually become familiar with the attitudes, features, voice, and language of one with whom we daily associate, so as not to observe any peculiarities in these respects, that would be instantly noticed by a stranger. For a still stronger reason, we become insensible to whatever is pecu- liar in ourselves. Faults that are quite obvious to others, in our use of favorite words and phrases, or in ihe general method of expressing our thoughts, may excite as little notice in our own minds, as the action of our limbs in walking, or of our lungs in respiration. The other, and the more important reason, why a man can- not be a perfect critic on himself is, that he is liable to feel a partiality to the faults which need correction, because they are his own. This difficulty exists in all its force respecting a com- position that is recent, and towards which the writer cherishes a fond regard, as possessing a sort of identity with himself. It was the tendency of both the above causes, especially the latter, to pervert a man's judgment of his own perfomiance, that oc- casioned the precept of the Latin critic, " nonum in annum pre- matur." And with reference to the same tendency, a modern writer, of good sense, remarked ; " The attachment felt to the defects of our style, at the moment of their production, is to be ranked with the sort of oblique taste manifested by idolaters ; who usually most reverence those idols, which are most deform- ed." This, I apprehend, is peculiarly true of those faults, which spring from the heedless darings of affectation, or the sallies of a wayward fancy. Pride is always at hand to volunteer its ap- probation, or at least apology, for our own defects. After the assassination of Caisar, when Bmtus was about to make a speech in the Roman Senate, some of his friends urged Cicero to pre- pare that speech for him. Cicero replied ; " No orator ever believed that another man could write better than himself." These principles, especially the latter, which sober experi- ence, and even piety, do not exterminate from any human bosom, may be expected to operate, with peculiar strength, when com- bined with the ardent temperament of youth. Accordingly, I 30 CRITICAL EXERCISES. have always observed in circles of ministers, that, other things being equal, the youngest men are least patient of criticism. In any one of ingenuous and intelligent mind, the desire of im- provement is in proportion to his intercourse with men and books, his knowledge of himself, in a word, his attainments in real wis- dom. In such a man, of course, a partial attachment to his own productions, and his own errors, always abates with the progress of years : but there is danger of its continuing, to an unhappy extent, till the best period of improvement is past. Instead of shrinking from the scrutiny of judicious criticism, therefore, he who understands his own interest, will invite it ; he will prize it, as the invaluable, indispensable auxiliary of his own efforts. He will seek this aid seasonably, before his defects acquire insu- perable strength by indulgence. And he will desire that such criticism should be impartial and thorough : that it should not spare real blemishes, though he himself might regard them as minor defects, or even as beauties. No one, in the forming age, ought to be indifferent to small faults ; because the carelessness that overlooks these, at twenty, if unchecked, will grow into in- tolerable blundering by forty.* In a sermon, peculiarly, no er- ror of sentiment should be deemed too small for animadversion. Let the empiric tamper with his patient's life, by random pre- scriptions, and be comparatively blameless ; but let not the preacher tamper with the Bible, and the souls of men. The error of one sentence from the pulpit, may produce mischief through a century, nay through eternity. You perceive, gentlemen, that thus far, I have had special re- spect to the benefit to be derived from the criticism of your Instruc- tors. The observations which follow will include also the advan- tage you may receive from the critical remarks of one another. On this whole subject, it is a fundamental maxim, that be- nevolence and candor, are essential to true criticism. It has been well remarked, that " Taste is discriminating sensibility : it is sensibility disciplined by experience, which, by a kind of * Hse nugse seria ducent. Hor. Ars. Po. INTRODUCTORY. 3 1 extempore judgment, is instantaneous in its decisions." In con- formity with this definition, I would say that artificial taste is cold, technical, fastidious. With a microscopic eye, it sees on- ly blemishes, and these chiefly of the minuter sort. Genuine taste is always associated with kindness, ingenuousness, and good will. It sees and feels beauties, where they exist ; because it is more disposed to see the excellence of a performance than its defects. Its censures, though, when the case requires it, they are frank, or even severe, are not offered with asperity of man- ner, but with delicacy and decorum. It is a question that deserves some consideration, to what ex- tent, in our critical remarks, it is best to notice good qualities, as well as defects. In almost every performance, we may find something to commend ; and commendation, it is said, where it can be given with truth, prepares the subject of criticism, to receive its more ungrateful lessons. Some respect certainly must be had to circumstances, in this case. Where the mind, through excess of modesty, is predisposed to a desponding estimate of its o\Mi efforts, special care must be taken not to sink it into irretrievable discouragement, by improper severity of remark. Such a mind often needs to be sustained by stimulants, and soothed by lenitives, rather than to be stung by corrosives. But in exercises expressly devoted to critical remarks, among Christian brethren, and students in theology, the expediency of going into commendatory observations, at length, and of set pur- pose, is at least questionable. In the first place, such observations should never be consid- ered as necessary to convince one who is the subject of criti- cism, that we are his friends, and feel a fraternal interest in his improvement. He ought to have complete evidence of this from other sources. In the second place, the unavoidable length of these exercises, when many engage in them, makes it impossible to point out the beauties of a good performance, without a tedious expense of time. In the third place, the chief purpose of such exercises does 32 CRITICAL EXERCISES. not require it. Why, for example, do you submit a ser- mon to the scrutiny of others ? Not that you may be told how excellent it is ; but how you may make it better. In the fourth place, when it is considered as a thing of course, that praise must be achninistered, as a salvo to criticism, it be- comes extremely difficult to preserve the line of distinction be- twixt just commendatiofi and jiattery ; because the fact that commendation is customary, and is expected, furnishes a tempta- tion to bestow it, in cases when it is not deserved. In the fifth place, the good purposes alluded to above may be accomplished with more utility, and with more delicacy by implied approbation, than by that which is expressed, in direct terms, especially when it is avowedly expressed as part of a sys- tem. Children and persons of uncultivated minds, \vill relish praise, without much scruple as to the shape in which it comes. But the man of piety, the man of maturity and refinement, will swallow with more difficulty, what he considers as his share of a necessary medicine dealt out to all. Indeed the man of mere ambition, if he is possessed of good sense, though he may be pleased with praise given in this manner, will be ashamed to have it known that he feels such gratification, and will secretly despise himself for indulging it. If you ask what is meant by the implied approbation to which I just alluded, I will explain myself by an example. You present a sermon for criticism, knowing that it is to be the subject of remark, as to matter, sentiment, method, style, and spirit. You are aware that, on similar occasions, it has been customary to point out a variety of faults in one or more of the above particulars. Your own sermon passes the ordeal, and es- capes with very slight animadversion. Do you need other tes- timony, that it is received with approbation ? And does not this tacit approbation better accord with the delicacy of your feelings, than that which is expressed in the naked form of direct praise ? But suppose the other course is adopted, and the usage is to point out both the good and the bad qualities of your perform- INTRODUCTORY. 33 ance ; and just in proportion as the former or the latter are sup- posed to prevail, you are to feel encouragement or despondence ; — what is the result ? By an instantaneous process you com- pare both classes of remarks together ; you subtract the less amount from the greater, and find your residue of censure or of praise, with arithmetical precision. Now, so far as a man's pride is concerned, and pride rather than piety it must be con- fessed is at the bottom of this difficulty, the above process is at- tended with this infelicity ; when beauties and defects are both definitely marked, and marked with integrity by the critic ; the writer of necessity, in many cases, strikes the balance against himself. But when the commendation is only implied, he is at liberty to magnify its amount, till the balance will be in his own favor. In addressing such considerations to those who are soon to be employed in the most elevated office on earth, I am almost ready to apologize for turning aside to discuss a, question, Avhich I cannot but think is of easy solution, if its decision were left to our Christian magnanimity, without the aid of other prin- ciples. The sum of my meaning is this ; in the intercourse of private fi'iendship, it is often safe, and often expedient, to tell a man frankly your whole heart, as to excellencies which he possesses, but which you could not properly mention in a public exercise. But even in such an exercise, a stiff and studied caution is not necessary. Sometimes you cannot point out the blemishes of a performance, without alluding to its beauties, or to important qualities of mind which the writer exhibits, and which he should be encouraged to cultivate. This involves very little of the dif- ficulty that attends a system of commendatory remarks, which is to operate on minds of various temperament, and in circumstan- ces of endless diversity. I have only to subjoin two cautions, growing out of this sub- ject. The first is, — cultivate that manly self possession, which will 34 CRITICAL EXERCISES. prepare you to receive either censure or approbation from oth- ers, with meekness and dignity. There is a sohd reputation, which is desirable because it rests upon substantial worth of character, and is the instrument of substantial usefulness. There is an ephemeral reputation, which a man acquires by artificial means, and maintains perhaps at a distance, but loses just in proportion as he is intimately known. This reputation is like factitious wealth. The obliquity of the means by which it is gained, and the ostentation with which it is displayed, subjects its possessor to constant apprehension of losing it. With regard to character as well as money, an hon- est man will be satisfied with what is justly his o^\ti. If he desires more respect, let him deserve more. This is Christian integrity, and Christian dignity. And this cures at once the silly vanity of seeking compliments from those around us, and the sickly sensibility, that must be soothed and dandled ; that shrinks and pines at every touch, and disqualifies one to act the part of a man, among the rough elements of the world, in which it was his infelicity to be bom. Dr. Witherspoon, among his pa- ternal counsels to his pupils, says ; " Do as much as you can to deserve praise, and yet avoid, as much as possible, the hearing of it. When you come into public life, not only guard against fishing for applause, and being inquisitive after what people think or say of you, but avoid knowing it, as much as you de- cently can. My reason for this is, that, whether you will or not, you will hear as much of the slanders of your enemies, as you will bear with patience ; and as much of the flattery of your friends, as you will bear with humility." To this sage advice I will only add that, officious and even impertinent remarks upon our performances or conduct, when ofi^ered, as they frequently are, from good motives, should never be received with a resent- ful or peevish spirit. On the contrary, it must commonly be our own fault, if from such remarks, we do not derive some ad- vantage.* * Cecil says, " It is better that a traveller meet a surly, impertinent fellow to direct him in his way, than to lose his way. A merchant INTRODUCTORY. 35 My second caution is, — see that the habit of criiicisni does not withdraw your attention from the great end of preaciiing. There is no necessity, I must say again, that this consequence should follow from attention even to minute accuracy. And yet there is a tendency to this result, which, in minds of a cer- tain cast, ought to be guarded against with unceasing vigilance. Gross blunders in language are inexcusable in a scholar : but it is a thousand times better to violate grammar and rhetoric, and preach the gospel clearly and powerfully, than to be an accurate, dry, uninstructive, phlegmatic preacher. Be careful especially that critical exercises shall not impair your spirit of piety. Much judgment is necessar}^ in mingling these with exercises of devotion. Remarks, for example, on another's performance in prayer, if extended beyond a few general things, are often more mischievous than useful. And even remarks on preaching, though peculiarly important in the early efforts of the pulpit, to prevent the formation of bad habits, unless they are made \\'\i\\ discretion and skill, are apt to produce a mechanical preacher. As far as possible, the necessity for such remarks should be ob- viated by a thorough attention to preparatory exercises. These considerations are eminently practical to a congregation of stu- dents, accustomed to constant variety in the performances of the pulpit, and called to be alternately both preachers and hearers. On this ground, it ought to be a sacred nJe of conscience witii every man, not to carry a spirit of literary censorship into the Sabbath. If it cleaves to you in going to the house of God, shake it off, as Paul did the viper. The dignity and sanctity of the place, forbid its intrusion. If you have no other way to sailing in quest of gain, w\\\ take ;i hint from any man. A minister should consider how much more easily a weal< man can read a wise man, than a wise man can read himself. Dr. Manton, no doubt, thought he had preached well, and as became him, before the Lord Mayor ; but he felt himself re})roved and instructed, when a jjoor man pulled him by the sleeve, and told him he had understood noth- ing of his sermon. Apelles was a wise man, when ho altered the shoe, in his picture on the hint of the cobler. The cobler in his place was to be heard." 36 CRITICAL EXERCISES. subdue this spirit, which is so hostile to the ends of rehgious worship, adopt the precaution of avoiding altogether, remarks on the preaching, till the Sabbath is passed ; and then limit your observations to those things which cleaved to your memory at the time, without any effort of attention as a critic* * These suggestions result from experience. For many years, I have not allowed myself, in the regular worship of God, to hear ser- mons as a critic ; but have aimed to avoid, on the Sabbath, all conver- sation respecting preaching, that could promote in myself or others, a criticizing spirit. In a congregation of students, and even of Chris- tian students, there are probably some special tendencies to the indul- gence of this spirit. But still the habit of freely discussing the mer- its or defects of a sermon, so soon as we have ceased to listen to it from the pulpit, is so adapted to frustrate the proper influence of the Sabbath, that theological students especially, should guard against such a sacrifice as to spirituality of feeling. This habit of criticising the preacher, is injustice to him. It as- sumes that he sets himself up to act a part for the amusement of oth- ers ; and that every time he preaches, even the Jirst time, he ought to be so faultless, that a critic can perceive no defect in the perform- ance. It is injustice to the critic himself. Why does he go to the house of God ? Professedly to hear the Gospel ; — to unite in religious worship ; to have fellowship with angels ; to get ready for heaven. When Moses came down from talking with God on the mount, — his face shone. But this critic comes from the Sanctuary, like worldly people from a tea party or the theatre. His conversation shows that his mind has been occupied by a literary or vagrant curiosity. The house of God, and the gate of heaven, has only furnished him with subjects of religious small talk, Blany seem to think that it must be a good employment to talk about sermons ; while they do this in such a way as in fact to profane the sabbath, oftend God, and harden their own hearts. LECTURE II. HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. In discussing the large class of topics which come under the head of Homiletic Theology, frequent allusion to facts will be necessary : and to avoid repetition, it seems proper here to ex- hibit a brief sketch of the preacher's work, as it has been con- ducted in different ages. A complete account of the pulpit, be- longs indeed to the department of ecclesiastical history, in which it deserves a much more prominent and ample consideration than it has hitherto received. But as I cannot devote ten or fifteen lectures to this subject, I must be content to give a mere outline of facts, imperfect as this of necessity must be. In the early history of the world, we find no evidence that the business of public religious teaching was reduced to method. " Enoch the seventh from Adam," we are told in the epistle of Jude, " prophesied." The brief history of this patriarch as giv- en by Moses, makes no mention of him as a prophet. But the language ascribed to him by Jude, renders it plain that he spoke under a divine commission ; and that as a public instructor of his cotemporaries, he taught the unity and moral perfections of God, and the difference, as to present character, and final retribution, betwixt saints and sinners. Peter calls Noah " a preacher of righteousness ; — the eighth person ivho ivns saved in the ark,^' as our translators understood the place ; or as others, with less reason, render it, ^'the eighth preacher of righteousness.^'* * The same Apostle says that to those who in his day were " spir- its in prison," Christ preached the gospel by Noah, before the flood. And Paul, in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews, alludes to the warn- ing of the approaching deluge, which Noah gave his cotemporaries, in which he acted under the spirit of prophecy. 38 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. In the patriarchal ages, the worship of God was confined chiefly to families, the head of each family acting as its priest. Moses, Aaron, and Joshua, in their day, often collected the peo- ple in solemn assembly, especially in the Tabernacle, and ad- dressed them with powerful effect, in the name of the Lord.* At a still later period, schools of the prophets were established at Bethel, Naioth, and Jericho, which seem at first, to have been places of worship, where the people assembled, especially on the sabbaths and new moons, for purposes of religious devo- tion and instruction ; and which afterwards became places of ed- ucation for young men designated to the sacred office. In the reign of Asa, it is said, that Israel had long been " without the true God, and \vithout a teaching priest." In the next reign, Jehoshaphat sent out a great number of itinerant pi'eachers, who " taught in Judah, and had the book of the law with them, and went about throughout all the cities of Judah, and taught the people." The peculiarity of garb, the sanctity of manners, the bold and often splendid imagery, and the violent action of these ancient preachers, need not here be described, being only cir- cumstantial appendages of their sacred work. After the captivity, when the inspired code assumed a more regular form, exhibiting the genealogies, the system of jurispru- dence, and the sacred ritual of this peculiar people ; and when their language was cormpted by a barbarous mixture of foreign dialects ; religious teachers were obliged to become students, for the purposes of exposition and interpretation ; and their em- ployment, to some extent, became, of course, a learned profes- sion. In the eighth chapter of Nehemiah, one very interesting example of Ezra's preaching is recorded. About fifty thousand people were assembled, in an open street. The learned scribe, * The tabernacle was a tent about fifty feet in length and seven- teen in breadth. It was divided by a rich curtain into two parts, the sanctum, and sanctum sanctorum ; the latter containing the Ark of the covenant &c. In this tent, which was so constructed as to be taken down and moved, the Congregation of Israel oft'ercd sacrifices, and performed other religious services. HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 39 with a large number of preachers on his right and left, stood on an elevated pulpit of wood. When he opened the book of the law, " all the people stood up," and continued standing, during the remainder of the service, which lasted from morning to mid- day. The preachers alternately " read in the book of the law of God, distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to under- stand the reading ; and all the people wept, when they heard the words of the law." It is foreign from my purpose here to enter into the contro- verted question about the origin of synagogues ; except to say that I am satisfied with the arguments which assign their origin to the period after the captivity. The exercises of the Jewish, public worship, were prayers, reading the scriptures, exposition, and miscellaneous exhortation. The prayers, which at first, were few and brief, had become in the time of our Saviour, so tedious as to be censured by him for their length. The reading of the Pentateuch, in such portions as to finish the whole, every year, was a long established custom, which Antiochus Epipha- nes having forbidden by a sanguinary edict, equal portions of the prophets were substituted ; and after the abov'e prohibi- tion was removed, the " law and the prophets " continued to be read, in alternate lessons. The passage which was read, was interpreted in Chaldee, after that became the current language of the Jews ; and then the ruler of the synagogue invited persons of distinction, giving the preference to strangers, to address the people. It would be rather amusing than useful to describe the sa- cred rites of Pagan nations. Egypt, Carthage, and Persia, had priests, who were second in rank and wealth, only to their kings. It was doubtless on account of the veneration in which they were held, as possessing superior learning, and as understanding the mysteries of the sacred books, and of divine worship, that Joseph exempted their lands from the assessment laid upon all the other subjects of Pharaoh. Among the sacred orders of those nations, the Magi of Persia, were most distinguished ; and the second Zoroaster might perhaps with propriety be called 40 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. the first Mahomet, By his intercourse with the Jews in their captivity, be became acquainted with their scriptures, by the help of Avhich he compiled his Zendavesta. In this he inserted many Psalms of David, — the history of Adam and Eve, of the creation and deluge, of Moses, Abraham and the patriarchs. The official services of the priests among the Persians, con- sisted in giving instructions to the people, as to their duties to the gods, and in conducting their superstitious and sanguinary rites of sacrifice. These rites were performed in the open air : and Varro thinks that performing them in temples, as was after- wards done by the Greeks and Romans, had a great tendency to corrupt religion. The public ministry of John the Baptist, of Christ and the apostles, is so minutely described in the New Testament, as to require no distinct notice in this sketch. The grand character- istics of their preaching, as to doctrine and manner, will be con- sidered in another place. I will only say here, that our Saviour, as did his apostles after him, and as all missionaries must do, in spreading a new religion, taught his hearers wherever they happened to assemble ; sometimes from the deck of a ship ; at others, from the summit of a mountain ; in a private house ; in the synagogue ; in the temple ; just as the circumstances of the time made it convenient. The sermons delivered on these occasions exhibit a combination of simplicity and majesty, of superiority to the applause, and of fervent zeal for the salvation of men, which render them the best models of public instruc- tion. When they who planted the primitive churches ceased from their labors, the noble simplicity which distinguished their preaching, began to decline. Many of the early Christian Fath- ers, however, were burning and shining lights, who, by the pu- rity of their doctrines, the fervor of their piety, the fidelity and efficacy of their ministrations, were great blessings to the world. As the state of the pulpit during a few first centuries of the Christian church, is to be collected chiefly from sources difficult of access to most persons, it may be proper to class the remain- HISTORY or THE PULPIT. 41 «ikr of my remarks, under distinct heads, with some enlargement on each. I begin with the names by which the preacher and his office were anciently designated. One of these titles was y-VQvi, a crier ; bon'owed from the business of one, who, as orator of hea- then gods or princes, made proclamation in public places with a loud voice. Under this allusion, Paul calls himself xi^qv^ xal anoa- loXog^ and Peter calls Noah dixaioGvvrjg xi^gv^. This title in- deed, was often applied, in early times, to the deacon, who called to order at the commencement of public worship. The preacher was besides often called diddoKakog, tractator, concio- nator &;c. The address which he delivered, was called by the Greeks OfAdicc, that is, a familiar discourse, adapted to common people, from OfiUog, an assembly, a multitude. The Latins called it tractatus, disputatio, locutio, sermo, and concio, according to the subject and strain of the discourse. It is evident that Laics, as they were called, that is, men of distinguished attainments, who were certainly no more than candidates for ordination, did preach. Eusebius* says that Origen preached in this manner at Caesarea. And when Demetrius of Alexandria objected to this as an innovation, the bishop of Jerusalem wrote him a letter saying, " I know not how you came so evidently to misrepre- sent the truth." He adds that this was so far from being a new thing, that unordained brethren, who were found qualified, should preach, that it had been done in many cases, some of which he repeats. This, however, was done only in case of such as were regularly called to it, by those who were them- selves, authorized preachers. When the stated preacher was sick, it was customary for the deacons to read the homilies of the fathers. Indeed it is evident that Stephen and Philip, two of the seven deacons in the Apos- tolic church, were preachers ; f and from several passages in Paul's epistles, J as well as in the primitive fathers, it seems ^ Lib. VI. Cap. 1!). \ Acts 7, and 8: 5, 2G. 1 1 Tim. 3: 13. G 42 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. probable that the office of deacon was, in many cases, regarded as preparatory to the ministry ; though it did not of itself imply authority to preach. The duties of deaconesses in the early Christian church, like those of prophetesses in the Jewish, were limited to offices of piety and charity, and to the private instruction of their own sex. The public preaching of women, which was so strictly prohibited by Paul, was disallowed in all the orthodox churches of antiquity. Accordingly the council of Carthage adopted this as one of its canons ; " Mulier, quamvis docta et sancta, viros in conventu, docere iTon prsesumat." General order of Public Worship. Place. — To the Jews, Christ often preached in the synagogue, and so did the apostles. Among the early Christians religious assemblies often convened in the streets or fields ; but more commonly in the houses of private persons, especially during seasons of persecution. In process of time, places of meeting were provided, which became common property, and took the name of churches,* by a figure derived fi-om the assemblies which convened in them. What sort of buildings these were, in the time of Diocletian, Eusebius informs us, in describing the wonderful prosperity of the church, which was suddenly dashed by the strife for preeminence among its ministers. " But now," says he, " how should any one be able to describe those multi- tudes, who, throughout every city, flocked to embrace the faith of Christ ; and those famous assemblies in the churches ? For which reason, they were no longer contented with the old edi- fices, but erected spacious churches from the very foundations, throughout all the cities. "f And the churches erected by Con- stantine, " were richly adorned with pictures and images, and bore a striking resemblance to the pagan temples, both in their outward and inward form." Pulpit. — The preacher addressed the people, in these an- * Exyilriovtt. tEuaeb, Lib. 8. Cap. 1— and Moshcini, 1. 383. HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 43 cient assemblies, sometimes from the episcopal seat, and some- times, especially when baptism was to be administered, from the steps of the Altar. The common place of the preacher, how- ever, to give him a full view of his auditors, and to denote the dignity and authority of his office, was a sort of rostrimi, called tribunal, suggestum, ambo, and other names corresponding with the different purposes, for which it was designed. A very usual appellation of this pulpit among the fathers was " the preacher's throne." Thus Gregory Nazianzen says, " I seemed to myself, to be placed on an elevated throne ; upon lower seats on each side, sat presbyters ; but the deacons in white vest- ments, stood, spreading around them an angelic splendor." And Chrysostora calls the pulpit -O^govov diSaaxuhxov. The form of these pulpits was that of a rostrum, elevated, and somewhat extended ; but they seem not to have been on the same model as those of many churches of modern Italy, where the whole person of the preacher is exposed to the view of his audi- ence. Time of Preaching. 0 In populous cities, where assemblies could easily convene for devotional purposes, it was often customary to mingle preaching (laili/ with public prayers. Origen and Augustine preached in this manner ; and hence the frequent allusions of the latter to sermons, which he delivered " heri,'' and " hesterno die.'' These things were differently determined, according to circumstances, in different places. But the celebration of public worship on the Jirst day of the week, was, in the primitive churches, a uni- versal custom, founded on the example and express apointment of the Apostles. The number of services on the Lord's day was one, two, or three, according to the disposition of the preacher, or the zeal or convenience of the hearers. Basil connnonly preached twice on the Christian Sabhath. Augustine in the afternoon, often al- ludes to his morning discourse. Chrysostom styles one of his homilies, " an exhortation to those who were ashamed to come 44 HISTORr OF THE PULPIT. to sermon, after dinner." In his tenth homily to the people of Antioch, he commends them for the full assemblies which con- vened for public worship in the afternoon. It is probable, that he did, at least occasionally, preach a third time, on the same sabbath ; for he certainly did sometimes preach in the evening; as appears from his fourth homily on Genesis, in which by an eloquent digression, he reproved his hearers for turning their eyes away from himself to the man that was lighting the lamps. The Apostolical Constitutions, speaking of the Christian Sab- bath, say, — " On which day, we deliver three sermons in com- memoration of him who rose again after three days." The cus- tom of modem, Protestant churches, throughout Christendom, ex- cept in very high latitudes, or very scattered population, requires two services on each Sabbath. The ecclesiastical canons of Scotland require three in the summer and two in the winter ; though general usage dispenses with one of these, in each divis- ion of the year. It need only be mentioned, on this particular, that, in the Romish church, at different periods, preaching, except rarely on occasion of some public festival, was entirely suspended for ages together ; — as it has been in some branches of the Greek church. Circumstances connected with Preaching. Posture of the preacher. — Ancient authorities are divided on the question, whether the common posture of the preacher was sitting or standing. " The Scribes and Pharisees sat in Mo- ses' seat." Our Saviour, having read a passage from the proph- et Isaiah, — "sat down, to teach the people." "He sat doivn and taught the people out of the ship " — " He sat and taught his disciples in the mountain ;" — and to liis enemies he said, " I sat daily with you, teaching in the temple." It is certain that sitting to preach w^as the attitude adopted frequently by Augustine, and commonly by Justin, Origen, Athanasius, and Chrysostom. It was probably the prevailing HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 45 usatfe of ancient preachers, though often departed from by Christ, and by the early fathers. Posture of hearers. — Justin Martyr, says in his second Apol- ogy, that when the sermon was finished, in the church of Rome, the people all rose up to pray ; — implying that they heard the sermon sitting, and united in the prayer, standing. This was the general custom in the churches of Italy at that period ; and in many churches of the east. But in the African churches, the indulgence of sitting to hear sermons, was strictly prohibited, except to the aged and infirm ; and standing was the more prevailing custom of Christian assemblies for a long period. Eusebius says that when he preached, in the palace of Con- stantino the great, the Emperor stood, with the other auditors, during the whole discourse. And when he entreated him to sit down on his throne, which was near, he refused, saying that ease and remissness was unbecoming in hearers of the divine word ; and that standing in such a case, was only a decent re- spect to religion. Classification of hearers. — In ancient Christian assemblies, distinct portions of the cb.urch were allotted to different classes of persons, designated by railings of wood ; so that males were separated from females, and married from the unmarried. The faces of hearers were generally turned towards the east, either from an insensible habit of conformity to the usages of pagans, who worshipped the rising sun ; or more probably from a misconstruction of our Saviour's language, in which he was supposed to say that his coming would be from the east. "As the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west, so shall the coming of the son of man be ; " that is sud- den and unexpected. The mention of east is circumstantial merely ; as the same thought would have been expressed by al- lusion to a flash of lightning from any other quarter. The same superstition, for it hardly admits a better name, still determines the position of dead bodies, in the grave, as a general custom of Christendom. Heylin, in his spleen against the English Puri- itans, accuses them of mischievious designs, because, when re- 46 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. pairing a place of worship in London, they took down the old pulpit, and set up a new one in such a position, as to turn the People's faces to the north, which in all primitive churches had been turned to the east. Prayers. — The regular prayers of the ancient churches were offered after the sermon was closed. Ferarius, however, in- forms us, that, before the preacher began his discourse, he al- ways invoked divine aid in a short prayer, similar in kind and length, to those occasional supplications, w^hich he offered in the current of his sermon, when any point of unusual difficulty came to be discussed. In the more set prayers at the conclusion of public worship, the people, having been silent to the close, uni- ted in the audible response, — Amen. That each minister chose his own language in prayer, with- mt the form of a liturgy, is clear I think, without mentioning other proof, from the fact that they generally prayed with their hands lifted up, and their eyes closed, during the first ages. Reading the Scriptures. — The reading of the scriptures, either by the preacher, or some one in his stead, always was the first exercise of public worship. The subject of the sermon was usually taken from the passage read, and where the reader was a different person from the preacher, it often happened that a fortu- itous selection of the passage at the time, required from the preacher, an extempore effort in the exposition. This passage, indeed, was commonly determined by previous arrangement. The Salutation, Pax vobis. — To secure the attention of the people at the commencement of worship, the deacons com- manded silence ; the preachers addressed them with an affec- tionate salutation and benediction ; " peace be with you," — (the people answering, " and with thy spirit ; ") and at the moment of commencing his seraion, he signified by his look, and the movement of his right hand, that he expected them to give au- dience to what he was about to deliver. This signal of his right hand,Lucan says Julius Cassar employed, when about to address the multitude. It was common with ancient orators, HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 47 heathen and Christian. On such occasions, Peter " beckoned with his hand ; " — and so did Paul, repeatedly. Text. — Ancient preachers did not select a text, exactly in the modern manner. Sometimes the theme of discourse was deduced from a short clause of the lesson read, which was an- nounced at or near the conmiencement of the sermon. At oth- er times, this theme was taken from a whole lesson ; at others, from several lessons. Basil, in one of his homilies, alludes to three, and in another to four distinct passages that had been read that day, from different parts of the Bible. This accounts in some measure for the fact, that the preaching of the Fathers had so much of the hortatory and discussive character, and so lit- tle unity of subject and effect. LECTURE III. HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. Subjects of sermons. — Under this head, I might greatly ex- tend my remarks : as a proper survey of the subjects discussed by preachers of different ages, would form a history of the pul- pit, far more accurate and complete than any which has been given to the world. Among the early fathers, sermons were adapted to two gen- eral classes of hearers, the catechumens and the faithful, or, (as they were sometimes called,) imperiti and initiati. In addi'es- sing the latter, abstruse doctrines, and the sacred mysteries of religion were often discussed ; while the preacher, in instmcting the catechumens, passed over these entirely, or touched them very lightly, dwelling on those simple truths and duties, which were adapted to their circumstances. Concerning the preach- ers of the second century, Mosheim says, " The Christian sys- tem, as it was hitherto taught, preserved its native and beauti- ful simplicity, and was comprehended in a small number of ar- ticles. The public teachers inculcated no other doctrines than those that are contained in what is commonly called the Apos- tle's Creed; and in the method of illustrating them, all vain subtilties, all mysterious researches beyond the reach of connnon capacities, were cai'efully avoided. This will not appear sur- prising to those who consider, that, at this time, there was not the least controversy about those capital doctrines of Christiani- ty, which were afterwards so keenly debated in the church."* * Eccl. Hist. 1. IbO. HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 49 In the third century, the same historian says, '' The principal doctrines of Christianity were explained to the people in their native purity and simplicity. But the Christian teachers, who had applied themselves to the study of letters and philosophy, soon abandoned the frequented paths, and stmck out into the devious wilds of fancy. Origen was at the head of this specula- tive tribe ; " and though he handled this matter with modesty and caution, his disciples, breaking from the Hmits fixed by their master, interpreted in the most licentious manner, the divine truths of religion, according to the tenor of the Platonic philoso- phy- Gregory Nazianzen, in enumerating the subjects commonly discussed in the pulpit, mentions, — " The universal 'providence of God, the creation, fall, and restoration of man, the incarna- tion, passion, and second coming of Christ ; the resurrection, judgment, and the final state of rewards and punishments ; anti above all, he says, the doctrine of the blessed trinity, which was the principal article of the Christian faith." Chrysostom, in his preaching to plain hearers, selected such subjects as these : " the benefit of afilictions ; not seelcing to know all things, is supreme wisdom ; the reproach of this world is glory ; death is better than life ; it is better to suffer, than to inflict injury J" In his twenty-fourth homily, on the baptism of Christ, he re- minds his hearers, that the scope of his preaching had been con- cerning " immortality, heaven and hell, the long-suffering of God, pardon, repentance, true faith, mystery, heresy ^ I need not trace the regular and lamentable degeneracy of the pulpit from this time, onward to the reformation. Ferrarius, though when he WTOte, the day of better things had dawned, described some preachers, who, during the darker periods of the church, discussed the most frivolous questions, such as " Whether Abel was slain with a club, and of what species of wood ? — from what sort of tree was Moses' rod taken ? — was the gold which the Magi offered to Christ, coined, or in mass ?" Hottinger says, that in a collection of sermons, composed by the theologi- cal faculty of Vienna, A. D. 1430, a regular history is given of, 7 50 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. the thirty pieces, which Judas had for betraying his master;. These pieces were said to be coined by Terah, father of Abra- ham ; and having passed through a succession of hands, too ridiculous to be named, they came into possession of the Virgin Mary, as a present from the Magi, and went into the temple as an offering for her purification. At the same period, Ferrarius complains that some preachers made a great ostentation of their acquaintance with ancient languages, versions, paraphrases, and manuscripts. For a considerable period before the reformation, the prevailing topics of the pulpit were, " the authority of the mother church ; the merits and intercession of departed saints ; the dignity of the blessed virgin ; the efficacy of relics ; and above all, the terrors of purgatory, and the utility of indulgen- ces.''^ Sermons consisted of quibbles, fables, and prodigies ; and religion consisted of external ceremonies. And be it re- membered forever, that this prostitution of the pulpit, was fol- lowed by the reprobation of heaven on a church, which for cen- turies has been gasping under the hand of death. The meridian splendor of that light, which shone at the re- formation, was soon obscured in different countries, by the com- bined influence of worldly policy, and religious controversy. When the Baxters and Howes of the English pulpit were de- nounced, in the days of Charles the Second, its glory departed. The rich and fervid instructions of the preceding age, were su- perseded by dry and speculative disquisitions, and the cardinal doctrines of the gospel, by the precepts of a cold and decent morality. And be it remembered again, that when real Chris- tianity was thus supplanted in the pulpit, by a spurious and sec- ular theology, the door was opened, at which entered the va- rious forms of Arian and Socinian error, and finally of the most unqualified infidelity. Interpretation of the Scriptures in Sermons. I have adverted to the influence of Origen in cormpting the primitive simplicity of religion. Guided, not by a sober judg- ment, but by a wayward fancy, he laid down the broad princi- HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 51 pie, absurd as it is bold, " that the scriptures are of little use to those who understand them as they are written." Hence he maintained that the Bible is to be interpreted as the Platonists explained the history of their gods ; not according to the com- mon acceptation of the words, but according to a hidden sense. This hidden sense he divided into moral and mystical; and the latter he subdivided into the inferior or allegorical sense, and the superior or celestial sense. This machinery, when put in full ope- ration, and recommended by the genius and learning of Origen, degraded the Bible at once from its paramount authority, as the standard of faith ; and made it subservient to the dreams of ev- ery visionary interpreter. Under the cover of this mystical meaning, little ingenuity was necessary to elicit from the scrip- tures, support for any opinion, however repugnant to Christian- ity and common sense.* Among the Greeks, Gregory Nazianzen, and Augustine among the Latins, became zealous supporters of scholastic the- ology ; combining in a most incongruous union, the doctrines of the gospel, with those of the Platonic philosophy ; and drawing conclusions too absurd to have been thought of by Christ or Plato. Every coincidence of phraseology, was fraught with im- portant meaning. Augustine regarded the plagues of Egypt as * From the endless examples of fanciful interpretation, furnisherl in the pages of Orij^en, 1 select but one. The prophet Isaiah, having rebuked the splendor and luxury of the Hebrew women, declares, that in the approaching havoc of war, such would be the slaughter of males that only one would be left to seven females. These latter, to escape the dread reproach of celibacy, would beg for the mere name and credit of wedlock, renouncing all its legal privileges. "And in that day seven women shall take hold of one man, saying, we will eat our own bread, and wear our own apparel, only let us be called by thy name, to take away our reproach." Let us see how this plain and vivid description of a great pubhc calamity, is metamor- phosed by the magic of a hidden sense. These seven women, Origen says, are " seven operations of the di- vine spirit ; viz. a spirit of wisdom, of intelligence, of council, of virtue, of knowledge, of piet}', and the fear of the Lord." The man they take hold of is Jesus Christ, that he may takeaway the reproach, which the world heaps upon true religion. 7* 52 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. a most pointed testimony against the sins of the Egyptians, be- cause the ten plagues corresponded exactly in number with the ten commandments which they had broken. No doubt the commentator forgot that these ten commandments were given long after the plagues ; and not given to Egyptians, but Jews. If I were to indulge a single reflection here, it would be this, that the whole superstructure of doctrinal and practical re- ligion depends on the principles adopted in interpreting the scriptures. Origen and a few other distinguished men, were re- sponsible for all the absurdities of transubstantiation, and all the fooleries of superstition, that deluged the church, ages after they were dead. From the sixth to the twelfth century, public instruction consisted of arguments and authorities drawn, not from the Bible, but from the writings of the fathers. So servile was the venera- tion for those infallible guides, that it was deemed impious not to submit, implicitly, in every article of faith, to their decisions. In the twelfth century. Christian teachers were divided into two classes. The former were called hihlici and dogmatici, or ex- pository and didactic divines. These professed great reverence for the Bible, and gave insipid explications of what they called its " internal juice and marrow" The latter were called scho- lastic, and avowedly subjected all articles of faith to the decis- ions of philosophy. The grand point of religion, however, through these dark ages, to the time of Luther, was, to know the decision of the sovereign Pontiff, and then to believe and act without examination. Reasoning in Sermons. Chrysostom, in his treatise iTept Isgrnavvig, requires the Chris- tian preacher to be skilful in dialectics. The utility of this, he shows, at some length, from the argumentative powers of Paul. The reasoning of this father, though it is sometimes perspicuous and cogent to a high degree, is rather of the rhetorical kind than the logical ; in other words, it is characterized rather by the vivid illustrations of oratory than by the regular inductions of ar- HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 53 gument. But with the exception of Chrysostom and a few oth- ers, very Httle that deserves the name of reasoning, is to be found among the fathers. They were not accustomed to define terms and anatomize the subject, by investigating elementary principles. Their sermons, even when rich in thought, were commonly destitute of precision and skilful arrangement ; and too often, what were called demonstrations, consisted of incohe- rent allegories and conceits, more adapted to amuse the fancy, than to convince the judgment. Preparation of Sermons. How far the practice of preaching extemporary discourses, prevailed among the fathers, cannot be determined with certainty. Origen is supposed to be the first, who introduced this method. This, however, he did not attempt, as Eusebius affirms, till he was more than sixty years of age, and had acquired, by experi- ence, great freedom in the pulpit. That Augustine did some- times preach without any preparation, is unquestionable ; for, in one instance, he tells us that the reader, instead of reading the passage of Scripture, prescribed as the subject of the sermon, gave out another by mistake ; which compelled him to change his purpose, and preach without premeditation. Ferrarius quotes Suidas, as saying that Chrysostom had a tongue flowing like the Nile, which enabled him to deliver his panegyrics on the Mar- tyrs, extempore. The versatility of powers possessed by this great preacher, appears from innumerable instances, in which he dropped the main subject, and with the utmost pertinence and fluency of language, pursued any accidental thought suggested at the moment. But though there were, in the primitive ages, many exceptions, it seems plainly to have been the general usage, that sermons were written. No other proof of this is necessary, if we advert to the indisputable fact that some skilful writer often composed homilies, which other preachers, and even dignitaries in the church, delivered as their own. Ferrarius alludes to discourses as still extant, which were written by Ennodius, for the use of others. 54 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. This practice, Augustine not only recognizes, but formally justifies, in behalf of those, who are destitute of invention, but can speak well; provided, they select well written discourses of another man, and commit them to memory, for the instruction of their hearers. In different countries and periods, there has been considera- ble diversity in the custom of preparing sermons. Before the civil wars in England, preaching without notes had become com- mon. During those commotions, when each pulpit was sur- rounded with spies, and each word of the preacher liable to be the ground of civil indictment, personal safety required him to write and read his sermons with care. Hence this singular, of- ficial order of Charles the second, addressed to the University of Cambridge, forbidding, absolutely, that sermons should be read ; and requiring that they should be delivered by memory, without book, and that the name of every preacher disregard- ing this requisition, should be forthwith reported to his Maj- esty. The fact, however, was at that time, and since Mr. Addison recommended the practice, is still more common, that the ser- mons of many English clergymen, whether delivered from mem- ory or from manuscript, have to a considerable extent, been borrowed from books, or from the more private compositions of other men. The influence of this practice on the English pul- pit, will require some remarks in another lecture. There can be no doubt that sermons among the fathers, were generally precomposed, and delivered, sometimes with, but more commonly without the aid of written notes. Eloquence of Sermons. The two most distinguished ancient treatises on this subject were that of Chrysostom, — De Sacerdoto, and of Augustine, De Doctrina Christiana;* from which we learn that these lu- minaries of the Greek and Latin church, had exalted views of Sacred eloquence. Their sermons, too, especially those of * Lib. IV. HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 55 Chrysostom, furnish many examples of an elegant, fervent, and even sublime oratory. His accurate acquaintance with the hu- man heart, his varied learning, and vivid fancy, furnished him with inexhaustible stores of argument and illustration. Yet he did not seek to appear learned ; and never descended from his noble simplicity, to adopt those affected beauties of style, which sometimes debased the eloquence of Augustine. Among the Latin fathers, Jerome of the fourth century, might be mentioned as one of the most distinguished for learning and eloquence. During his education at Rome, he devoted himself to the art of Oratory, that he might successfully defend Christi- anity.— Erasmus pronounces him " the greatest scholar, the greatest orator, and the greatest divine, that the church had pro- duced," including his predecessors of the three centuries before. His writings are valuable, not only for vigor and elegance of style, but for biblical learning. Lactantius of the same century, though less sound as a theo- logian, was eminent as a Latin writer. He was a professed rhet- orician. The beauty and eloquence of his \\Titings, acquired him the title of " the Christian Cicero," and induced the Emperor Constantine to choose him as Teacher to his son. Among the Greek Fathers, the homilies of Basil, while they are preferred, by some competent judges, to those of Chrysos- tom, in classical purity of style ; are second only to his, in point of eloquence ; and the two Gregories occupy the next rank. That these men possessed real eloquence, might be inferred from the effect of their preaching on the hearers. When Chrysostom was banished, the people said, with one voice, " it were better that the sun should cease to shine, than that his mouth should be shut ; " and this, notwithstanding he often bore dov'n on his hearers, in a torrent of bold and pointed reproof, such as is seldom heard from any modern pulpit. Take an ex- ample from his reprehension of those who were averse to read- ing the scriptures, but zealots for hearing sermons, and who de- manded novelty and pomp in the pulpit. " Tell me," said he, " with what pomp of words did St. Paul preach ? — yet he con- 56 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. verted the world. What pomp did the ilhterate Peter use? You say, we cannot understand the things that are wiitten in the gospel. Why so ? Are they spoken in Hebrew, or Latin ? — are they not spoken in Greek, to you who understand Greek ? But they are spoken darkly. How darkly ? Are the histories obscure ? There are a thousand histories in the Bible : tell me one of them. You cannot tell one. Oh ! but the reading of the scriptures is a mere repethion of the same things ! And are not the same things repeated at the theatre, and at the horse- race ? Does not the same sun rise every morning ? Do you not eat the same sort of food every day ? If we ask, why do you not remember our sermons ? — you answer, how should we, seeing they always change, and we hear them but once ? — If we ask, Why do you not remember the scriptures ? You an- swer, they are always the same. These are nothing but pre- tences for idleness." I had selected an extract from the same father, on the advantages of eloquence in a preacher, but my limits forbid its insertion.* Length of Sermons. Cicero and Pliny allude to an instrument called clepsydra, used by Greek and Roman orators to measure time, by drops of water. Ferrarius says that Italian preachers of his day, used an hour-glass, with sands, for the same purpose ; though there is no certainty that any such usage existed among the fathers. He affirms, however, upon what I think, inadequate evidence, that the customary length of their sermons, was about one hour. This point cannot be determined from the expressions so common in preaching ; " allotted hour," — " hour of sermon," &tc. which may denote merely that there was a stated time of public worship. Nor can it be known, from the printed sermons of the day, for two reasons. One is, that when the same audi- ence was addressed by several preachers, in immediate succes- sion, as was frequently the fact, sermons would, of course, be more brief, than Avhen the whole time was appropriated to one * See works Vol. 1. p. 408. HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. 57 inan. The other reason is, the impossibihty of distinguishing homihes, preserved by the original manuscripts of preachers, from those taken down by short hand writers, called raxiygacfot by the Greeks, and notarii by the Latins. The custom which Chrysostom applauds, of repeating sermons in families, after they returned from church, introduced the practice of note-taking. These notes of hearers, were sometimes published, after a revis- ion by the preacher, and sometimes without his consent. In this way many homilies transmitted to us, are mere scraps of those which were actually delivered. For example ; Chrysostom's first sermon on Lazarus, must have occupied near sixty minutes in delivery. Whereas others, as they appear in his printed works, and the same is tme, concerning those of Augustine, would have required scarcely a tenth part of this time. On the whole, it is evident that sermons, as delivered by Christ, and the Apostles, and the primitive fathers, varied in length with circumstances : — that after Origen's time, they became longer, less desultory, and more conformed to the rules of Grecian eloquence ; but that, m Chrysostom's day, they must have been less than an hour in length, as this was the customary tmie of the whole re- ligious service.* Effect of Sermons. The silence and order which decency demands in a modem Christian assembly, did not prevail in the ancient church. To prevent passing in and out during sermon, different measures were adopted ; such as severe church censures, placing officers at the entrance of the church, and sometimes locking the doors. The best preachers often reproved their hearers for talking * In some cases, it would seem that what is given to us as one con- tinued sermon, must have been delivered at several times. The ser- mon of Erasnuis, on tlie IV, Psalm, is as long nsjive modern sermons. Editors probably took the same liberty as that by which several dis- courses of President Edwards have been embodied into a continued treatise. 8 58 HISTORY OF THE PULPIT. and jesting, in time of worship. In imitation of the pagan theatre, it became an extensive custom for hearers to express their approbation of a semion, by tumukuous applauses, such as stamping, clapping, waving of handkerchiefs, and loud acclama- tions. Thus the hearers of Cyril cried out, in the midst of his sermon, orthodox Cyril ! And Chrysostom's, in another case? exclaimed, " Thou art the thirteenth Apostle ! " These ap- plauses were in many cases, mere matter of fonn, and were ut- tered without any intelligent apprehension of what the preacher had delivered. Thus Augustine reproved his hearers, in one instance, for interrupting him with their acclamations, when he had only begun to speak, but had not expressed a single thought. But many other preachers encouraged these disorders, from motives of vain glory. They had their re- ward,— while the illustrious men whose simple aim was, to feed their hearers with the bread of life, saw their faithful minis- trations blest, to the saving conversion of many souls. The sketch which I had designed to give of the modern pul- pit, in Great Britain, on the continent of Europe, and in the Greek church, must be omitted, except so far as it will be in- corporated of course into the various topics of subsequent lec- tures. LECTURE IV. CHOICE OF TEXTS. The practice of expounding parts of the sacred Scriptures, in public worship, as I have stated in the preceding lectures, was common in the Jewish synagogue, and in the early. Christian churches. From this origin is derived the usage, which for ages, has prevailed in Christendom, of selecting from the Bible, a few words or sentences, called a text, from which the preacher de- duces the subject of his discourse. It can be no valid objec- tion to the propriety of this custom, in the pulpit, that nothing anal- ogous to it is found in the modern senate or forum, nor among the great fathers of ancient eloquence. It is not the province of secular oratory, as Dr. Campbell has properly remarked, to expound any infallible code of doctrines or laws. But a sermon purports to be a perspicuous and persuasive exhibition of some truth or duty, as taught in the word of God. It is therefore, with great propriety, founded on some specific passage of this sacred book. The principles which ought to be observed in the choice of texts, may be included, perhaps, in the following RULES. 1 . A text should never be chosen as the mere motto of a sermon. This is not sufficiently respectful to the Bible; Our authority to preach at all, is derived from the same sacred book 60 CHOICE OF TEXTS. which prescribes what we shall preach. It is not enough that what we speak is truth ; — it must be truth taught in the Bible ; or else the declaration of it deserves not the name of a Christian sermon. I do not say that an elaborate explication, or any ex- plication is invariably necessary to show that the subject of dis- course is contained in the text. When this is so obvious as to be seen by every hearer ; especially when it is obvious with- out recurrence to the connexion of the context, or when there is no such connexion, explanatory remarks are superfluous. This point will be resumed in another place. There is a question which demands some attention here, as to the order to be observed, in choosing a subject and a text. Dr. Campbell * lays do\\Ti the broad position, that, " the text ought to be chosen for the subject, and not the subject for the text." His reason is, that in the opposite course, the preacher is tempted to descant upon words and phrases of a text, while the sentiment becomes only a secondary consideration. In point of fact, doubtless every wise preacher often fixes on some prominent doctrine or duty, which he wishes to discuss, and then goes to the Bible to ascertain what it teaches on this subject, selecting some single passage as a text, that is especially perti- nent to his purpose. This, I presume, is the common process of preparation, where a sermon is to be adapted to any special circumstance or occasion. The ordination of a minister, for ex- ample, requires a discourse on an appropriate subject ; and the selection of a text adapted to such a subject implies no disrespect to the Bible ; for the occasion itself, and all the instmctions which it demands, are founded on the authority of this sacred book. Or, when there is some special reason for the preacher to discuss the doctrine of atonement, or of progi'essive sanctifi- cation, he adopts the same process in choosing a text. But here is a danger to be guarded against, much more seri- ous than the one mentioned by Dr. Campbell, on the other hand. Suppose you fix on your subject, and arrange your matter, * Lectures on Pul{»it Eloquence. CHOICE OF TEXTS. 61 and even write your sermon, as has often been done, and then go to the Bible in search of a text. Probably, your text will either not contain your subject ; or contain it only by inference or re- mote analogy ; or combine with it, other subjects, which must entirely be neglected. I do not say that there can be no case in which it is admissible to arrange the plan of a sermon, and even execute it, without having determined on a text. But from the specimens of motto-preaching which have fallen under my observation, I cannot doubt that the tendency of the above process is to sink the reverence due to the Bible ; and hence it too often happens in point of fact, that, in what are called polite sermons, there is nothing but the text, to remind the hearers that there is a Bible. The text is obviously chosen from re- spect, rather to the usage of the pulpit, than to the authority of the divine word ; and it would better accord with the ends of the preacher, in such a case, to choose no text ; or, like him whom Melancthon heard preach in Paris, to choose one from the Ethics of Aristotle. 2. In the choice of a text, there should be no affectation OF PECULIARITY. Some preachers have endeavored to awaken the curiosity of their hearers, by an artifice of this sort, altogether unbecoming the dignity of the pulpit. They select perhaps from a passage, a scrap, or a single ivorcl, that vulgar minds may admire the sa- gacity which can elicit so much meaning from a text, in which they perceive no meaning, and in which there truly is none. A man of this trifling character, preached from the words, — " Not so." — another, from " Jehovah Jireh," another from " Zaphnath- paanea ; " another from the monosyllable " But ; " and another, a train of eleven discourses from the interjection " O." At this rate, a preacher might scarcely find time, in a ministry of twenty years, to explain from the pulj^it, as many verses from the sacred volume. If he must find ' mountains of meaning,' in every word and letter of the Bible, and must devote half a score of sermons to develope that meaning, he may be accounted by himself, or by some of his hearers, a very profound man, though 62 CHOICE OF TEXTS. in fact a plodding one. A skilful preacher, however, he cannot be, who forgets that " All scripture is profitable, for doctrine, " &c. and profitable preeminently from its variety of instruction. If a systematic course of sermons may legitimately be drawn from one text, this can scarcely, if ever be expedient, as it re- spects hearers generally. But to return to aftectation of pecu- liarity. I have heard a sermon from a clause of the passage Isaiah 45:11. " Command ye me. ^' The leading proposition was to this effect, — ' that such is the condescension and faithfulness of God, in flilfilling his promises, that he consents to be addressed as a servant, in the language, not of supplication, but of com- mand. It seems to me plain, that this is not at all the sense of the passage ; but that it is to be read interrogatively, — " do ye command or dictate me ?" — and understood as a pointed rebuke of Jehovah, to those who assumed to meddle wth his preroga- tives. No other investigation, than to look at the context, is necessary to settle this point. But supposing the other sense to be the true one, the air of conceit and peculiarity, in choos- ing this detached clause for a text, would be avoided by the preacher of sober judgment ; when all becoming freedom and confidence in approaching the throne of grace, is encouraged in so many simple passages of the Bible.* Now I protest against all whim and eccentricity, in ransacking the Bible for some odd word or phrase, to be the basis of a dis- course. I would as soon adopt at once the recommendation of * Dr. Campbell mentions one of those declaimers, "who will rather take the most inconvenient path in the world, tlian keep the beaten road, who chose the words, a hell and a pomegranate, and a hell and a pomegranate, — as the ground of a discourse on this topic, that faith and holiness, in the Christian lifl>, do ever accompany each other. It would not be easy, he adds, — " to conceive a more extravagant flight. But where, you say, is the connexion in the subject? It requires but a small sliare of fancy to make out a figurative connexion any where. Faith cometh by hearing : and could one desire a better rea- son for making the hell which is sonorous, an emblem of faith ? Ho- liness is /nH*(/itnn good works:— how can it be better represented than by a pomegranate, which is a very pleasant fruit ?" CHOICE OF TEXTS. 63 Sterne, that, when a preacher is much at loss to find a text for his sermon, he shall take this ; "Parthians, and Medea, and Elamites ; " or even as soon propose this same fantastical Sterne as a pattern of Christian decorum in the pulpit. But there is a kindred fault, which, though it may not arise from affectation, shows want of good taste. 3. A text should contain a complete sense of itself. I do not mean that it should contain all the sense, of which it is susceptible, when viewed in relation to the context. In many cases, this would be impossible. But I mean that it should, generally, consist of at least one grammatical sen- tence, simple or complex, containing the distinct relations of subject, attribute, and object. The propriety of this, is suggest- ed by the primary end of preaching, the elucidation of the scrip- tures, as the fountain of religious instruction. When this principle is violated, it is commonly from the de- sire of brevity. Almost innumerable examples of this sort might be mentioned ; and many from preachers of respectable rank. In some cases, a mere member of a sentence, amounting to no affirmation, and expressing no complete thought, whatever, is violently disjoined from its grammatical connexion, to stand for a text. Bishop Home's sermon, entitled ; " The beloved dis- ciple,"— has this text, — " that disciple whom Jesus loved." The whole sentence is, " Therefore, that disciple whom Jesus loved, said unto Peter, It is the Lord." His sermon entitled " the Tree of life," has this text : " The tree of Life also in the midst of the garden." Each of these clauses is only a nomina- tive case, with an adjunct. In other instances, a few words are so selected as to express a complete sense ; but the brevity at which the preacher so fondly aims, is attained by the omission of intervening words or phrases. The prelate just mentioned, in his semion on patience, has this text, " Follow after patience ; " which is a mutilation of Paul's injunction to Timothy, " Follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness." Dr. Blair in his sennon " On the importance of order in con- 64 CHOICE OF TEXTS. duct," thought proper to make his text exactly pertinent to his subject, by omitting an adverb and a conjunction, in the middle, thus ; " Let all things be done in order." In his sermon on " Gentleness," his text, by a similar modification, reads thus : " The wisdom that is from above, is gentle — ." In his sermon on " Candour," the text is, " Charity thinketh no evil ; " four members being omitted between the tv^o parts of this clause. But the most singular example of this sort in Blair, is his choice of the words, — " Cornelius, a devout man," as a text to his sermon on " Devotion." The passage is given as in Acts X. 2d verse, where, indeed, three of its four words are found, while the other word occupies a remote place, in the verse preceding. The entire passage is this ; " There was a certain man in Cesarea, called Cornelius, a Centurion of the band, called the Italian band, a devout man, and one that feared God with all his house, which gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God always. This is a sketch of a devout man, in one sentence. Why should four words be culled out of this sentence, and put together, containing a nominative case, with- out any grammatical correlates, or any distinct sentiment ? Brevity is the object, but why should a preacher of good taste, why, especially, should a preacher of the Scotch church, whose stated duty it is to read portions of the Bible as a part of public worship, be so reluctant to read one complete sentence of this sacred book, as the basis of a long discourse. I admit that there are some special advantages in a concise text, provided it is perspicuous and appropriate. A long one is less likely to be remembered ; and when it involves distinct subjects, is more likely to withdraw the preacher from the simplicity and unity of design, which ought to prevail in sermons. But when our choice falls upon a text containing more matter than we wish to discuss, the plain course is, to select our one topic, after reading, and, if we please, briefly commenting on the whole, rather than to select a word or two, which suggest no subject whatever. 4. A text should express a complete sense of the in- spired WRITER, from whom it is taken. CHOICE OF TEXTS. 65 This it may do, though it is but a single clause, selected from the members of a compound sentence ; as, " Rejoice with trem- bling,"— " The time is short." — " Awake, thou that sleepest." Such a clause, however, by being severed from its connexion, is often ^vrested from its true meanino;. You mio;ht take, for example, as a text, this complete and independent proposition, " There is no God." But you would use a liberty forbidden by all established laws of language ; you would make the Bible contradict itself, unless you also take the previous clause, " The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God." "John the Baptist was risen from the dead," — is a distinct proposition. But it does not express the sense of the inspired writer, and is not true \vithout including more words : " And King Herod heard of him, and he said, that John the Baptist was risen from the dead." A text is not to be hung upon a Sermon as an amulet ; nor like the nostrum of an empyric, is it to be taken up and applied at random. It should always express the true sense, and, as far as possible, the complete sense of the sacred writer. 5. This should be the particular sense which consti- tutes THE subject of DISCOURSE : SO that the text is perti- nent to the subject ; in other words, the subject should be di- rectly expressed, or fairly suggested, by the unperverted mean- ing of the text. Now this rule is violated in three ways. It excludes, in the first place, all those texts, which are chosen from some fanciful connexion of sound with the occasion or subject in hand. Archbishop Fenelon censures a semion, delivered on Ash- Wednesday, from the words, " I have eaten ashes like bread." Here the correspondence between the text and the subject, lies not at all in the sense, but in the sound of a single word, which the preacher perceived to be related to the ceremony of the day. The same sort of taste was discovered by the preacher, who, being called to officiate before the English judges, chose for his text, " Judge not, that ye be not judged." Still less excuse is there, in the second place, for that affected 9 66 CHOICE OF TEXTS. eccentricity which lights on a text by accident, without any con- nexion of either sound or sense, with the point to be discussed. It is said of Latimer, that in his advanced age, he had a text which served for any subject ; " Whatsoever things were written aforetime, were written for our learning." An English preach- er, at the Bishop of Lincoln's visitation, in 1818, chose for his text, " Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, good will towards men," and, after his exordium, proposed, as the subject of discourse ; " To examine the doctrines of Calvin, as laid down in his Institutes." I observe again, in the third place, that a text is not pertinent, when so disjoined from its connexion, that its apparent meaning, though it is truth, and revealed truth, is not the real meaning of the passage. Suppose you take, as the foundation of a sermon, the words, " Whatsoever is not of faith, is sin ; " and without examining the connexion, make this your doctrine, that, noth- ing is true obedience which does not result from a principle of faith. This false sense of the passage, the authority of Augus- tine made the classical one for a long period. Doubtless, this sentiment is taught in the Bible, and seems to be taught in this text ; but examining the scope of the whole passage, you per- ceive the Apostle's affirmation to be simply this ; " Whatsoever is done without a conviction of its lawfulness, is sinful ; " — a conclusion from his preceding remarks about conscientious scru- ples as to meats and drinks. I have heard the text, Ps. 49 : 8, " The redemption of the soul is precious," &;c. — made to furnish the doctrine, that " the salvation of man is procured at great expense ; " — and this, il- lustrated by varoius topics, exhibiting the worth of the soul, and the love of God. This is all true ; — and it is truth often taught in the Bible ; but the primary, and obvious sense of the text, as the whole connexion shows, is overlooked, by a misunder- standing of the word soul, which in this place means the' life of the body. — Cecil says, " The meaning of the Bible, is the Bible." Dr. Blair's sermon on the duties belonging to middle age, has CHOICE OF TEXTS. 67 this text, — " When I became a man, I put away cliildish things." Was it then the design of the Apostle to inculcate the duties of the middle age ? Not at all. He merely said, by way of illus- tration, that, as the scenes of full manhood surpass the feeble comprehension of a child ; so the grand concerns of the heaven- ly state transcend our dark conceptions in this world. In the next verse, the same sentiment is expressed by another figure ; " Now we see through a glass, darkly ; but then face to face." Every one perceives how absurd, in this case, it would be to pass over the thing illustrated, and fix on the illustration, as a subject of discourse. I am aware that the best of men have sometimes taken creat freedom with the plain meaning of the Bible, under the license of what they call accommodation. Thus Dr. Hawker from the words ; " Speak to the children of Israel, that they go forward," preached on the doctrine of progressive sanctification. And the language poetically ascribed to Sisera's mother, waiting the re- turn of her heathen son, " Why is his chariot so long in com- ing?" has often been made to express the aspirations of a dying Saint, for the perfect vision of his Saviour. How much more appropriate, in the former case, is the simple language of the New Testament : " Grow in grace," and in the latter, " I de- sire to depart, and be with Christ." It is not enough, that the chief sentiment of a sernion is true, nor that it is important, nor that it is contained in the Bible ; ii must be contained in the text, or properly deduced from it. There is, I admit, a justifiable accommodation, if you please to give it that name, where a scriptural declaration or precept, or fact, special and limited in its original application, is made the basis of general instruction. " Son of man, I have made thee a watchman to the house of Israel," was an address to Ezekiel, as a minister of God, in the ancient church. But there is no vio- lence in considering the solemn charge to that prophet, as ap- plicable to the ministers of the christian dispensation. '' I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me," — though spoken of the Jews, would be a proper 68 CHOICE OF TEXTS. text for a sermon, on the general subject of ingratitude. So a passage of sacred history, exhibiting the character or obhgations of man, the perfections of God, or the principles of his govern- ment, furnishes instruction, profitable and pertinent to men of whatever age or country. 6. The only remaining quality which I would recommend in the choice of a text, is simplicity. The importance of this is implied in the remarks already- made : but it may be more apparent by some distinct illustra- tions. The simplicity to which I refer, is violated, in the first place, by the choice of a text so obscure as to require a long, critical commentary, to prepare the way for the subject. It is certainly not my design to condemn such critical remarks, as wholly in- expedient in the pulpit. The judicious exposition of a para- graph or chapter, at stated times, is an invaluable method of en- lightening a congregation, as to the contents of the sacred ora- cles : and it is to be lamented that this ancient usage, is so far fallen into desuetude, in the churches of modem Christendom. But, in these exercises, the steps of a philological investigation, are by no means to be exhibited before common auditors. Much less is this proper in a sermon, where men should be called to contemplate an interesting subject, without having been first led through a chilling and perplexing maze of critical specula- tion.— On the same principle, — Simplicity is violated, in the second place, by the choice of a text which promises great efforts in the preacher. This is es- pecially the case, with such passages as present images distin- guished for vivacity and sublimity. Of this sort are the follow- ing ; " He bowed the heavens also and came down, and dark- ness was under his feet. And he rode upon a cherub and did fly, yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind." " I beheld a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose pres- ence the earth and the heavens fled away." However grand or awful your subject may be, if you would not disappoint your liearers, introduce it with a simple text. WhenevTsr this con- CHOICE OF TEXTS. 69 tains a figure, explain it, if necessary ; and then, as a general rule, drop it, that you may confine your attention to the thought. It will seldom be proper to follow a figure through your sermon, and never to run it down, into a thousand fanciful points of re- semblance.* * The Christian Observer, Vol. 5. 493. recommends, what it calls, the good old practice of announcing a text twice. When a text is very long, this may be inconvenient ; when very short, unnecessary. It may be best, however, as a general rule, for the preacher to do this, in cases where he is aware that the hearers expect it. Probably it would be well to do it, in all cases, where the text is of moderate length. LECTURE V. CHOICE OF SUBJECTS. GENERAL PRINCIPLES. FOUR CLASSES OF SUBJECTS, DOCTRINAL, ETHICAL, HISTORICAL, HORTATORY. We proceed now to consider the choice of subjects. In giving a brief survey of the pulpit, at different periods, I have ah-eady remai-ked, that this single aiticle, the subjects of sermons, would furnish matter for a more complete history of preaching, than any which has been given to the world. In- deed, such is the influence of the pulpit on public sentiment, and such the reaction of public sentiment on the pulpit, that in the most important respects, the state of the church, in any given period, may be determined from the prevalent strain of preach- ing, during that period. Were we to make this principle the ground of a general esti- mate, and divide the history of the church, since the Christian era, into four periods, we might perhaps denominate the first, simple and evangelical ; the second, allegorical and mystical; the third, controversial ; and the fourth mixed. The fii'st peri- od may perhaps be considered as extending about to the time of Origen^ the second, to the Reformation ; the third to the com- mencement of the eighteenth century, and the last, to this time. It scarcely need be remarked, that this would be correct, only as a very general classification, admitting many exceptions in each CHOICE OF SUBJECTS. 71 period. The third, I denominate controversial, as embracing not merely the mighty struggle between the Romish and the Reformed churches, but also the intolerant, and often sanguina- ry contests among Protestants of different sects. During this lamentable season, while the pulpit was the theatre of acrimoni- ous attack and recrimination, the greatest question that has ever agitated the church, namely whether the Bible is or is not the supreme standard of faith, may be considered as finally put to rest. The fourth period, I call mixed, because, at different times and places, it has exhibited an endless variety in the character of sermons, from the extreme of fanatical declamation, to that of the frigid and courtly essay. The selection of subjects, which any preacher will make for his public discourses, will correspond with his principal end in preaching. If this is personal emolument or fame, his sermons will be modeled, in matter and spirit, according to the prevailing taste of the time. His object maybe to establish some point of technical orthodoxy ; or to conflite some heresy ; or to eluci- date some doubtful text from the resources of criticism ; or to promote good morals, by enforcing some duty or reprobating some vice ; or finally, to amuse his audience, by the exhibition of an elevated taste, or a splendid oratory. If the preacher's end, is to glorify God, and save his hearers, the peculiar tmths and duties of the gospel will constitute the principal topics of his public discourses. The pulpit, like all other things in which human agency is concerned, has always been more or less subject to the influence of local and temporary causes. At one time, all its powers have been directed, perhaps for half a century, according to an im- pulse given by a few celebrated models of preaching. At an- other time, an ovenvhelming current of public feeling and opin- ion has been occasioned by some great subject of duty or dan- ger, involving the common interests of the church. For a hundred years after Luther's time, scarcely a sermon was delivered in 72 CHOICE OF SUBJECTS. any Protestant pulpit, without alluding to the usurpations of the papal hierarchy* But aside from caprice and passion, and the occasional ex- citement of great emergencies in the religious world, there must be circumstances in the view of every judicious preacher, affecting, to some extent, his own choice of subjects for the pul- pit. He will take into view the capacity and cultivation of his hearers ; their attainments in religious knowledge ; their preju- dices ; and their intellectual and moral habits. He will have re- gard also to time and occasion. By this, I do not chiefly mean the periodical solemnities of rehgion, such as the christian sacra- ments, days of fasting or of thanksgiving ; nor other special, public occasions, which usually prescribe their own limits to the preacher. But I refer to that general coincidence of things, which may render the discussion of a particular subject more or less seasonable at any one time or place. The wise preacher too, will have some regard to his own tal- ents, and taste, and age, in determining upon the topics to be discussed in his public instructions. I mention age, because a sermon designed to investigate some abstruse point in religion, or to arraign some vice, which calls for the reprehension of the pulpit, will be much more likely to meet a favorable reception from the hearers, if the preacher is supposed to possess that ma- turity of judgment, and extensive knowledge of his subject, which nothing but experience in his sacred work can give. The relation which the preacher sustains to the hearers, is connected with a distinct class of circumstances, which good sense will not fail to take into the account. That may be a fit discourse for a stated pastor, which would be very inappropriate if discussed by a stranger : and that which might seem affectation of zeal, or learning, or orthodoxy in a single sermon, from an itinerant, might be unexceptionable as connected with a series of addres- ses to the same audience. There is one kind of public discourse, called Exposition or Lecture, which is distinguished rather by its form than its sub- ject, and the importance of which claims for it, a distinct consid- CHOICE OF SUBJECTS. , 73 eratlon, in another place. The subjects of sermons, in the more appropriate sense of this word, may perhaps he included in the following general classes. 1. Doctrinal. — This head comprises that whole circle of truths, which appertain to the system of revealed religion. A sermon which discusses one or more of these truths, as its prin- cipal subject, is called a doctrinal sermon. Its professed object is to enlighten the understanding, confirm the faith, and obviate the mistakes of the hearers. Of course, it is in the didactic strain ; as it is intended to exhibit, explain, and establish the views which the preacher entertains on the point in question. The absolute importance, which he will attach to this class of sub- jects, collectively, and the relative importance of each, compared with the rest, will be according to his general system of religious opinions. Some of the doctrines above alluded to, have been denominated essential ox fundamental. By this, it is not meant merely, that they are taught with so much distinctness in the Bible, that to deny them, is to call in question the authority of this book, as a divine revelation ; but also, that they are constit- uent parts of an entire system, none of which can be taken away, without the virtual renunciation of the whole. On this ground, it is maintained, that the deliberate denial of these doc- trines, by any one who understands them, is inconsistent with love to the truth, and therefore inconsistent with salvation. It is foreign from my present purpose, to examine the views of those who discard the above distinction between essential and unessential truths ; and allege that eiTor of opinion is not, in any case, either criminal or fatal. I shall only remark in passing, that to say there are no essential principles in theology, while we admit such principles in all those sciences, Avhich are secon- dary and subservient to this, is absurd. To say that error in opinion is never owing to obliquity of moral temper, is to con- tradict all experience. And to affirm, that while the Bible is our only guide to salvation, we may yet be saved, though we reject the most important truths which it reveals, is to charge absurdity on its contents, and folly on its author. 10 74 CHOICE OF SUBJECTS. Taking it for granted, then, that the Bible reveals truths, es- sential to be understood and believed, it is clear that the preach- er who is wise and faithful, will often make these truths the top- ics of his public discourses. Indeed, these are the gi-and basis of all profitable instruction. The character of God, the char- acter of man, the way of salvation by Christ, and the kindi'ed doctrines involved by necessary connexion with these, are sub- jects which our hearers must be brought to understand, or they are taught nothing to any valuable purpose. The man who avoids these doctrines, in his sermons, fi-om a perverted taste, or a false delicacy, or a servile complaisance to the prejudices of others, forgets the chief end for which the christian ministry was instituted. " The sword of the spirit is the word of God." Let the doctrines preached by Christ and the Apostles, the doc- trines which constitute the glory, the efficacy, the essence of the Gospel, be generally excluded from the pulpit for one half century, and the night of paganism w'ould again spread its gloomy shades over Christendom. The manner in which these doctrines are to be preached, will claim our attention hereafter. I have only to add here, that this class, including the primary and the subordinate tmths of revelation, afford the preacher a rich vari- ety of subjects for discussion in the pulpit. 2. The next class of subjects to be noticed, may he called Ethical. — I prefer this term to the more common ones, practi- cal and moral, not on account of any primary difference in the sense of the terms, but because these latter are wont to be as- sociated with views of christian duty, very indefinite, and often erroneous. In respect to the motives, the consolations, and in- deed all the essential characteristics of a tmly religious man, the doctrines of the Bible are eminently practical. To give one example of my meaning. Any minister of experience in his work, knows that the directest way to administer consolation to a pious husband, mourning for the death of his wife, would be to dwell on the holy perfection of God, and of his providential government.* No system of morals, indeed, thas is not founded * On the practical influence of Christian doctrines, see Ersl■ CHOICE OF SUBJECTS. 83 that shall be most appropriate in given circumstances, I allow he may hesitate. But, with the profusion of interesting mat- ter, displayed in every page of the Bible, if he is perplexed to find any topic of discourse, he has mistaken his business. Let him go to the farm or to the shop. The fact that he wants a subject, is demonstration that he wants either the understand- ing or the heart of a minister. LECTURE VI. STRUCTURE OF SERMONS, PRELIMINARY REMARKS, NECES- SITY OF SOUND JUDGMENT, AND A PIOUS SPIRIT IN A PREACHER. EXORDIUM. Our attention will be directed, through several following lec- tures, to THE STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. In entering upon this large class of topics, some preliminary suggestions seem to be required. The composition of a semion calls into exercise both the in- tellect and the heaii. As a work of intellect, the preacher's success in selecting and arranging his materials, depends in no small measure on the soundness of his judgment. Through an infelicity of taste or habit, some men treat all sorts of subjects in one precise method. They have just so many principal heads, just so many subdivisions, and so many inferences in each dis- course, following in exact succession, like the strokes of the clock, which mark the hours of the day. The hearers easily anticipate the particulars of this unvarying round. Now this rigid unifoiTn- ity is not applicable to any important business, depending on the agency of mind. What should we think of a general, who should plan a battle or a siege according to books, without re- garding the character of his troops, the circumstances of his po- sition, or the strength of his enemy ? He might spend the time STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. PS of a campaign in drawing lines of circumvallation or contravalla- tion, and with all his mathematical exactness, he might prove a harmless enemy to those, who would have trembled at the prompt use of bayonets and heavy artillery. Should the law^- yer treat all causes of his clients, or the physician all diseases of his patients, in one technical method, without regarding the end- less variety of circumstances, what should we say of their skill in their several professions ? Certainly a mode of proceeding, which is absurd in all otJier cases, is not less absurd in the pul- pit. But the reasonable disgust W'hich we feel at a mechanical uni- formity, should not push us into the opposite extreme. Orato- ry, like other arts, has settled principles. The solicitor when he speaks, has some end in view ; and applies his powers to at- tain it, not at random, but according to some plan, adapted to his purpose. He states facts, adduces testimony, cites authori- ty, reasons, obviates prejudices, rouses emotion. To gain his cause, he combines more or fewer sources of argument, and di- rects his efforts to a given point of attack or defence, as a ver- satile invention, and a skilful judgment may dictate. He adopts a particular course, not by accident, but because his knowledge of men, and of his profession, induces him to prefer this, as most likely to be successful. The wise preacher too, will proceed according to the subject and design of his discourse ; and will not be so afraid of rules, as to establish the rule, that a sermon should have no subject nor design. Without using judgment, every rule indeed, will be unavailing, even to teach him the meaning of his text. Does it therefore follow that the system of sacred interpretation can give him no aid in understanding the Bible ? — or that he is to ascertain the sense of a single text only by chance, without any principles to guide him ? No more does it follow, because mere rules cannot enable him to compose a good sermon, that there- fore he can never hope to make such a sermon, except by chance. The thought, the method, and the expression, all de- mand pains and skill. Writing is a fine art, and has elementa- 86 STKUCTURE OF SERMONS. ry principles. Accident might as well produce the Messiah of Handel, as the Paradise Lost; might as well guide the chisel of Praxiteles, or the pencil of RafFaelle, as the pen of Addison. I am aware that a random effort in the pulpit, is sometimes successful. But when it is so, if it was occasioned by affected peculiarity, or careless neglect of regular preparation, it requires apology rather than commendation. It is to be expected that the tendency to imitation, and the insensible influence of habit, in a Seminary like this, will pro- duce, to some extent, uniformity in public exercises. But in the composition of sermons, there is, if I mistake not, a counter- acting tendency, of great strength. I refer not to a useful and pleasant variety, resulting from difference of taste and tempera- ment, and giving to each man something that is characteristic, in his own manner of thinking and writing. I refer to that studied aim at peculiarity, which is often connected with gen- ius, but commonly with genius of secondary rank, and that under the influence of pride. The writer of a sermon with such feelings, perhaps, sits down to his work in his study, \vith delib- erate calculation to avoid, at all events, the customary method of treating a subject. But in gratifying a fastidious humour, and in avoiding the fault of a rigid exactness, he may fall into an- other often times greater magnitude, the affectation of originali- ty. Pride chooses to err, rather than not to be singular : but the Avise man will not grope his way through thickets, merely because the high road is so common. The preacher, more than any other man, needs a sober judgment. This leads to another remark, viz. on the necessity of pious feeling. The preacher's success in composing a sermon, de- pends preeminently on the state of heart, with which he comes to the work. Suppose he engages in it with the same fiigid calculation, with which a mechanic sits down to the construc- tion of a clock. His object is to amuse his hearers : to make an advantageous display of his own genius, or learning, or elo- quence. With this view, he chooses his subject and his meth- od ; adopts some novel interpretation of his text, becoming a STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. 87 man of erudition ; calls to his aid all the resources of pro- found theological research ; adjusts all his topics of argument, and of address to the passions, according to the best canons of taste ; — and when the sermon is finished, what is it ? — a body with fair proportions, elegant, splendid, perhaps, in its decora- tions, but a body without a soul. One sentence of simple, Pu- ritan eloquence, is worth a thousand such sermons. But let the preacher commence his preparation for the pulpit with the heart of a devout Christian ; a heart that regards as the great end of preaching, the glory of God and the salvation of man ; a heart that feels the worth of souls, glows with holy af- fection to the Redeemer, and anticipates with trembling hope, the day when he shall come to be glorified in them that believe ; and this spirit will diffuse a savour of godliness through the ser- mon, that will warm, and impress, and penetrate his hearers. Luther's maxim, " Bene oi'asse est bene studuisse," should be graven on the memory of every preacher. None but God, can effectually teach us, how to teach others. A heart devoted to him in the study, will stamp its own character of sanctity and energy on every preparation for the pulpit. And let it never be forgotten by the students of this Seminary, that no fund of knowledge, no rhetorical skill in the selection of matter, or in the arrangement or embellishment of a discourse, can make it in any measure what a Christian sermon should be, if it wants that vital impulse, which nothing can impart but a spirit of fervent piety.* With these general remarks in view, we may proceed to con- sider that arrangement of parts, wliich is most customary in a regular sermon. To every such sennon, some of these parts will of course belong. You will readily perceive that it is not my object to designate the cases in which more or fewer of them may be dispensed with ; but to lay down some principles, in respect to each, that may assist the young preacher, in liis prep- aratians for the pulpit ; taking it for granted, that he v/ill en- * See Erskine's Discourses on Ministry, Ser. 1. 88 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. deavour to make such an arrangement of parts, in any given case, as is best adapted to the subject and design of his dis- course. The principal parts of a sermon which now demand our consideration are these five, exordium, exposition and proposi- tion, division, discussion or argument, and conclusion. The observations which I shall make on these particulars, will ne- cessarily bring into view some of the great principles of preach- ing ; and instead of exhausting the subject, Avill only prepare the way for examining, more fully, the general characteristics of sermons. EXORDIUM. The only valuable purpose for which any public speaker can address an assembly, is to make them understand, and believe, and feel, the sentiments which he utters. The chief object of an introduction then is-, to secure that attention which is most favourable to the attainment of this purpose ; and the obstacles which prevent this favourable attention, are commonly found in the prejudice, the ignorance, or the indifference of the hearers. They may have a low estimate of the talents or the mor- al character of the preacher. In such a case, however, the remedy lies not in any effect which he can hope to produce by a few prefatory- sentences, at the opening of a sermon ; but in his becoming better known to his hearers, if he deserves their respect, or becoming a better man, if he does not. If the pre- judice is directed against general opinions, which he holds, or is supposed to liold, no benefit can arise from attempting, in an exordium, to defend those opinions ; nor from alluding to them in any form, except in some rare case, where a prompt disavowal may remove at once, some injurious mistake. But if he is awai'e that the hearers are preoccupied with unfavourable impressions, as to the particular subject he is about to discuss, his first aim evidently should be, so to present that subject, if possible, as not to strengthen, but to obviate those impressions. Supposing however, the preacher to be satisfied, that no pre- judice of the hearers exists to frustrate the effect of his discourse, STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. 89 Still he is to presume that their ignorance, or at least their in- difference to divine things, will present powerful obstacles to his success. He must therefore introduce his subject, so that it shall promise to be intelligible to them, and interesting ; so that they shall be attracted to listen, and gradually disarmed of that deadly insensibility, which bars up all the avenues of profitable instruction from the pulpit ; so in short, that they shall become prepared spontaneously and earnestly, to " give heed to the things that are spoken." An exordium, then, should possess the following properties : In the first place. Simplicity. Here there is no room for artificial structure, and studied or- nament of diction. Good taste absolutely forbids both the stiff- ness of aphoristic brevity, and the elaborate harmony of the stately and periodic style. It is an ancient precept, that no dis- course should commence with a long sentence. All pompous allusions, Horace condemns as splendid patches on an introduc- tion, which render it ridiculous ; such as " the grove and altar of Diana ; the stream winding through beautiful fields ; the ma- jestic river, and the rainbow." All those warm appeals to the pa.ssiom or imagination, which may be highly proper in the sequel of a discourse, are entirely out of place at the beginning. The obvious reason is, the hear- ers come together with their hearts cold, and their thoughts dis- sipated by intercourse with a thousand minor objects. They can no more be started into high emotion by a fervid stroke of eloquence, than a mountain of ice can be dissolved in a moment, Ijcfore the blaze of a taper. Besides, were it practicable to awaken this sudden ardour of feeling, it would not be desirable. High emotion is necessarily transient. He who thinks himself able to keep up its full intensity through a long discourse, needs only a few lessons fi'om experience to undeceive him. By striking his highest string at first, he compels himself to sink as he proceeds ; and thus very unskilfully excites expectation, only to disappoint it. The discourse that begins in ecstasy, to be consistent with itself, must end in phrenzy. A good judge on 12 90 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. this subject says, " reserve your fire : bold thoughts and figures are never rehshed, till the mind is heated and thoroughly en- gaged, which is never the case at the commencement. Homer employs not a single simile, in the first book of the Iliad, nor in the first book of the Odyssey." And another says, " You must in the beginning speak gently, remembering that your auditors are yet neither in heaven, nor in the air, but upon the earth, and in a place of worship. Under the head of simplicity, I remark too, that an introduc- tion should not exhibit a display of learning. Grammatical and philological observations, the names and opinions of celebrated men, and in general, whatever looks like ostentation of exten- sive reading, is to be avoided as much as possible in this part of a sermon. It should not be abstruse. Controversial speculation, meta- physical subtilties, protracted and profound argumentation, ab- stract thoughts and language, are entirely unsuitable while as yet the minds of those we address are prepared only for that which is perspicuous and familiar. It should not be abrupt. The general reason is, that a bold dash upon the hearers at first, is not congruous with the cool state they are in, nor with the steady and increasing interest, which we wish to preserve in their minds. Extraordinary cir- cumstances may justify the departure from any mles, which common sense prescribes for common cases. Such was .the sud- den and vehement attack on Cataline, with which Cicero op- ened his first oration against that conspirator. Chrysostom, after an earthquake, began a sermon thus : '' Do you see the ^'power of God ? Do you see the benignity of God ? — Power, because the firm world he has shaken ; benignity, because the 'falling world he has sustained." And Flechier commenced a flmeral discourse thus : " With what design. Sirs, are you assembled here ? What view have you of my ministry ? Am I come to dazzle you with the glory of terrestrial honours ?" But those abrupt exordiums which denote a studied eccen- tricity in the preacher, are without apology. The most faulty EXORDIUM. 91 examples of this kind, that I have seen, are in the semions, (as they are called,) of Sterne. On the text " His commandments are not grievous ; " — he begins — " No, — they are not grievous my dear auditors." After the text : " For we trust that we have a good conscience ; " he exclaims-" Tmst ! — trust we have a good conscience ! " — On the text : " It is better to go to the house of mourning than the house of feasting : " his first sen- tence is : " That I deny." The first of these examples is tol- erable ; but the others, especially the last, is a puerile effort at witticism, which a man of good taste might excuse in the tavern or circus, but which he must reprobate in the house of God. In the second place, another quality requisite in an exordium, is PERTINENCE. It should corrcspond with the subject, and the occasion. Writers on oratory have often adverted to the fact, that both Demosthenes and Cicero were accustomed to compose introductions beforehand, from which they might make a selec- tion in case of an emergency. The reason assigned for this, is the importance, and at the same time the difficulty, of beginning well an addi'ess, when there had been little opportunity for preparation : and while neither the speaker nor the hearers have as yet become deeply interested in the subject. Unquestiona- bly these great masters of oratory might devise a few sentences, adapted to the general state of affairs, which might be made the preface to the discussion of almost any topic. Bat the preacher is seldom called to an unpremeditated effort ; and so constant is the repetition of his public services, that he would soon find an expedient like the one just mentioned, utterly fallacious. It is an indispensable quality of an exordium that it should be engag- ing. This it cannot be, if it consists only of thoughts which are trite or trivial. The preacher may begin by descanting on some such point as, — the vanity of the world, — the brevity of human life, — the worth of the soul, — the calamities of the fall ; but it requires no common skill and vivacity to give interest to an assembly, in that which they have heard a thousand times re" peated. 92 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. Now pertinence promotes variety. The important difference as to variety between general subjects and those which are par- ticular, is this ; the former are few, obvious, and to all men who reflect at all, familiar. While particular subjects are as various as the endless diversity that exists in the properties and rela- tions of things. So far then as interest depends on variety-, we have only to select various subjects for sermons, and to make the exordium of each appropriate, and the end is accomplished. I am aware that there is one kind of introduction, which, though limited to the subject in hand, is void of interest, because it re- curs in formal routine, on every Sabbath. It consists in a strain of indefinite remarks, bespeaking attention to what shall be de- livered, on account of its immense importance, and the momen- tous consequences connected with the manner in which it shall be received. Those Introductions which cast a preparatory light on the subject from the context, may easily unite the advantages of simplicity and pertinence. And there is a peculiar felicity in this connexion, where it can be exhibited in the form of narrative. In the third place, delicacy is another indispensable quality of a good exordium. There is a becoming congmity between the preacher's work, and the air of religious sensibility and reverence with which he should engage in its appropriate duties. When he enters the place consecrated to Jehovah, the reflection, " This is none oth- er than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven," should repress all feelings that do not accord with the dignity and sanctity of his business. The same Luther who braved the anathemas of the Roman Pontiff, always ascended the pulpit with trembling knees. But besides this aspect of religious awe, which a deep feeling of divine things will certainly impart to the preacher, there is a decorum of manner, which will arise from a proper respect to his hearers. Where this is wanting, they will not fail to perceive it, and to be instinctively prepossessed against what he shall deliver. EXORDIUM. 93 But we must not mistake the character of that modesty which is becoming in a preacher. It is not a timid, tremulous manner of saying things, which seems to imply that he does but half be- lieve his own sentiments. The divine commission to Jeremiah was : " Arise and speak unto the people all that I command thee ; — be not afraid of their faces." And Paul besought his bretliren to pray for him, " that he might speak boldly as he ought to speak." Certainly no commendation is due to that modesty in a preacher, which makes him " ashamed of the gos- pel of Christ." Nor does real modesty any more require those formal apolo- gies, with which sermons are often introduced. When a preach- er compliments an assembly with the assurance, that he. consid- ers them as very enlightened and respectable ; that through the weakness of his powers, or the want of preparation in the pres- ent case, he is conscious that what he shall deliver will be un- worthy of their attention ; it may seem to result from an amia- ble self-diffidence. But judicious hearers will suspect, and often suspect truly, that pride is speaking under the cloak of humil- ity. At the bar, or in the senate, the public speaker may with happy effect, sometimes allude, by way of apology for liimself, to his want of health, or want of time for preparation, to the in- experience of youth, or the imbecility of age. But the same indulgence is by no means allowed to the Christian preacher. The exhibition of himself, in any form, is so inconsistent with the sacred delicacy and elevation of his work, that it rarely fails to excite disgust. Before I dismiss the article of delicacy as a becoming proper- ty of an introduction, allow me to say, that it absolutely forbids an angry, austere or querulous manner of address. He knows but little of men, who does not know that harsh and acrimoni- ous language is adapted to produce unsanctified resentment, rather than evangelical repentance. He may imagine that fidel- ity to the truth requires him lo assume a frowning front ; to ar- raign his hearers with a magisterial air, and bid defiance to the 94 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. sentiments they may entertain of him and his doctrines. But while they may be satisfied perhaps, that his religion has made him fearless and honest, they will hardly be persuaded that it has made him either a lovely man, or a wise preacher. Love and gentleness win upon the affections, while asperity and threaten- ing fortify the heart against persuasion. Depend upon it, a ser- mon, however excellent in other respects, will be lost to the hearers, if it assails them, with an angry commencement. In the fourth place, an exordium should be judicious as to LENGTH. I say judicious, because what is proper in each case, must be determined by the subject and the circumstances. Many of the old divines extended this part of their discourses to a tedi- ous prolixity ; while others, in modern times, both among the English and the French, have adopted the opposite extreme, and have passed from the text to the discussion, with only a sentence or two of introduction. This matter, however, should be regulated by sober principles, and not by caprice. The wise traveller will adjust the rapidity of his first movements, and the length of his stages, to the extent of his whole journey. If the subject to be discussed by the preacher is very copious, the exordium should be brief, to make room for the subsequent mat- ter. If the sermon, on the other hand, is to contain but few thoughts, it is a very inadequate remedy for the defect, to post- pone the consideration of these, by an attenuated introduction. I have sometimes been pained at the want of skill, which leads a man to select a subject extensive enough for five sermons, and then to occupy in loose, prefatory remarks, one third of the time allotted to his discourse. The most common characteristic of such introductions, is sterile and languid declamation. The preacher begins perhaps, with the charms of Eden, the primi- tive innocence and felicity of man, his fatal seduction by the subtlety of the tempter, his apostacy, and his expulsion from Paradise. Then follow, in regular gradation, the miseries of the fall, and the wonderful plan of redemption. Besides the disproportionate length to which these tame exordiums are apt EXORDIUM. 95 to be extended, they are too miscellaneous, and too trite, to awaken interest. The preacher is so much at leisure, that ev- ery trifle by the way-side attracts his attention ; and his subject, (if indeed he has one,) is forgotten. In this case, no congruity of parts is maintained, no regard to the maxim: " Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum." The fault indeed is not so much that subsequent matter is in- consistent with what had preceded, as that the sennon is a dull repetition of thoughts anticipated in the introduction, some of which might have been vivid and interesting, in their proper place and order. Two hints, founded as I think on careful observation, will close this lecture. One is, that young writers of sermons, are extremely apt to dilate all the first thoughts of a sermon, from an apprehension that their stock of materials to complete it, will be too soon exhausted. The other is, that a similar diffuseness may be expected, when a man is too indolent or unskilful to look through his subject, and arrange its parts, before he be- gins to write. In this case, his introduction will almost of course be inappropriate, and tedious in length. LECTURE VII. EXPLICATION OF TEXT. THREE GENERAL PRECAUTIONS. PROPOSITION. As the subject is the basis of a sermon, this ought in the first place, to be very distinctly apprehended by the preacher, before he can be prepared to state it clearly, to enforce it by argument, and to apply it with power to the conscience. It ought also to be fairly contained in the passage from which it is professedly deduced, as I have shown at some length in discussing choice of texts. It is this unquestionable principle, that the subject of a Christian sermon ought to be derived from the oracles of God, which often makes the explication of the text necessary, before the subject of discourse is announced. As very few remarks will be requisite on that part of a sermon, which we call propo- sition, I shall defer these till I have considered what is proper in explaining a text, when this is required. It ought then to be taken for granted, that no man \v\\\ at- tempt to discuss a text in public, while he does not suppose himself to be possessed of its true meaning. Not that absolute certainty concerning every passage, is essential or attainable. A man of the clearest conceptions, with the best aids which learning can furnish, may sometimes be in doubt, among the dif- ferent senses that have been attached to a passage, which is the true one. But instead of obtruding his doubts on his hearers, GENERAL PRINCIPLES. 97 professing to enlighten their minds, while his own gropes in dark- ness, Christian discretion prescrihes a shorter course, namely, to let that passage alone in the pulpit ; — at least not to make it a subject of a sermon. " A man," says Claude, " who needs to be told that he ought not to preach on a text before he under- stands it, needs at the same time to be informed, that he is fit- ter for any other profession than that of the Ministry." But when there is no real difficulty in the sense of a passage, it is often useful to notice the occasion and circumstances with which it is connected, for the sake of a more vivid impression. When this is done by allusion to the context, especially when a simple statement of facts is all that is required, such an ex- planation of the text very properly falls into the exordium. I may add, that in much the greater number of cases, this familiar prepar- ation to announce the subject of discourse, is the best that can be adopted. There must however, be instances, in v/hich a regu- lar explanation of the text is necessary, to show the hearers that it contains the sentiment which the preacher deduces from it. In such a case he must resort to those laws of sacred criticism, by which, as an interpreter of the Bible, and a theologian, his inquiries should be guided. To give instruction in these, is not the business of Sacred Rhetoric. The Students of this Semi- nary however, are presumed to be well grounded in these principles, by the very able course of instruction, which retni- larly precedes their entrance upon the composition of sermons. But as the great end of sacred philology is the elucidation of di- vine truth, and that for the benefit of common understandings ; the critic and the ineacher must to some extent be combined ; and it often becomes a question, how far the literary habits of the former are to be modified by the ])ractical loisdom of the lattar. You sit down at your study table to investigate an interesting passage of Scripture, with a view to bring forth its re- al import, in a sermon. But there is an important difference between the process by which you examine that text, to ascer- tain its meaning, and that by which you are to exhibit that meaning to plain hearers. In the first case, you act as an ety- mologist, and a critic ; in the other, as a " teacher of babes." It 13 98 ^ STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. would seem, if we judge from facts, that there are extremes on different sides of this subject ; and to guard the young preacher against these, by suggesting a few plain principles of common sense, is all that is required by the plan of these lectures. 1. The preacher may err, by talking it for granted that some GREAT DIFFICULTY is to be cncountered in every passage. With this spirit he will come to the Bible, as the empiric does to his patient, resolved, at all events, to find occasion for the display of his professional skill. He will magnify difficulties, when they exist, and create them, when they do not. The medical student must make it his business to investigate human diseases ; — shall he therefore presume that every man he meets is sick ? No more must the biblical student take it for granted that every part of the sacred oracles is full of mystery, because critical research is necessary, to elucidate passages that are re- ally obscure. In all points that are essential to salvation, the Bible is a plaiyi book. Should we admit that, as to its great purposes, it is so obscure that its meaning cannot be understood by com- mon men, till it is explained by critics and commentators, and that these are entitled to exact from the unlearned an implicit confidence, then the grand principle of Protestantism, that " the Bible is the only rule of faith," applies merely to the initiated few ; — that is, the Bible is the rule to critics, and critics the rule to common men. What advantage then has the Protestant over the Catholic ? If unlearned, neither has any Bible. From one, it is locked up in the arcana o^ criticism ; — from the other, in the arcana of an miknoion tongue ; and to both, their author- ised teachers are lords of their conscience. As Protestants therefore, we must maintain that the Bible in its great outlines is intelligible to plain men, in whatever translation, provided that such translation is a faithful one ; and provided also, that it is studied with a candid, devout spirit. The language of this sacred book is not technical nor philo- sophical, but more familiar than that of any other book, ancient or modem. It was written chiefly, by plain men, unaccus- tomed to the abstract phraseology of science. It was written GENERAL PRINCIPLES. 99 Jer the use of plain men, such as have always constituted, and always must constitute the great majority of our race. It was written, too, for purposes equally important to the illiterate, as to the learned, namely to be the foundation of their faith and hope, and the directory of their conduct, as candidates for eter- nity. From the benevolence of God then, in giving this book to men, and from the design for which he gave it, it would be rea- sonable to presume, that, in its grand characteristics as a guide to heaven, all who read it with humility, integrity, and common intelligence, as to its principal contents, must be able to under- stand its meaning. Accordingly we find that the body of plain, pious men, whose minds are unperverted by prejudice, have correctly understood the great outlines of religious truth con- tained in the Bible, In respect to these, the coincidence of views expressed in ihe]r formularies of faith, drawn up in ages and countries remote from each other, would be an absolute miracle, on any other supposition, than that one leading system of tmth, is stamped in characters of light, on the sacred pages. That such coincidence of views has existed, is a fact placed be- yond all question by the evidence of history. The general cor- rectness of these views is not invalidated, but confirmed, by the profoundest investigations of criticism. And why should we expect it to be otherwise ? The great Teacher, who came from God, was predicted as one " anoint- ed to preach the gospel to the poor. ^^ In the best sense of the word, he was preeminently a popular preacher. " The com- mon people heard him gladly," because his instructions were so simple and familiar, that they easily understood him. But 1 need not enlarge on this topic. It is preposterous for the preach- er to treat plain declarations of the Bible, as though he consid- ered them to be involved in mystery. Yet, 2. The preacher may err, by taking it for granted, that the most OBVIOUS sense of a text, is always the true sense. A little reflection will satisfy any one that this could not be rea- sonably expected. The diversity of language contained in the Bible, must be somewhat correspondent with the diversity of in- 100 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. dividual taste and manner among its writers. Its matter too, consisting of history, poetry, prophecy, biography, precept and doctrine, necessarily occasions great variety in its phraseology. The frequent allusions, especially in the Old Testament, to local usages, to customs of different ages, and such as were peculiar to eastern countries ; the metaphors taken from such local usa- ges, or from local objects or facts, present many points of diffi- culty to those who read the Bible, in countries and periods re- mote from those in which it was written. I would by no means intimate that scriptural figures are of course obscure. So far from this, is the fact, that when they are taken from familiar objects, and expressed in simple terms, the meaning conveyed is instantaneously and forcibly impressed on the mind. Still it is certain, that not figm-es, merely, but allusions to oriental cus- toms, are sometimes unintelligible, except to men of reading. To mention one brief example, in which a phrase, according to the obvious import of its words, expresses no meaning at all. Moses says to Israel ; " The land whither thou goest in to pos- sess it, is not as the land of Egypt, whence ye came out ; where thou sowedst thy seed and ivateredst it with thy foot ; but the land whither ye go, is a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh water of the rain of heaven." Any plain man might see that here a difference is alluded to between two countries, in one of which the ground is watered by some artificial process, and in the other by rain. But he would attach no meaning to the phrase, " wateredst it with thy foot ; " unless he happened to know that, on the borders of the Nile, large cisterns were pro- vided, that the roots of vegetables might be refreshed by water, which was distributed from these cisterns, through small trench- es ; and to which the gardener gave a new direction at any time, by turning the earth against it with liis foot. In some cases where no figure is used, the obvious, literal sense of a passage, is not its true sense ; at least, as it must be understood by modern readers generally. For example ; our Saviour says, " When thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face." It is a simple injunction that his disciples, on GENERAL PRINCIPLES. 101 such occasions, should appear in the usual manner ; in distinc- tion from hypocrites, who, as a signal of special devotion, cov- ered their heads, or wore ashes on their faces, that their sancti- ty might attract observation. But where there is no such com- mon cmtom as anointing the head, a literal conformity to this precept would be a violation of its spirit ; because the man who is keeping a private fast, would proclaim this to his neighbors, by an external sign ; the very thing which Christ forbids. These examples are selected, not as presenting difficulties to the critic, but as familiarly illustrating the principle, that we must often look beyond the phraseology of a text to ascertain its meaning. Of course, the preacher cannot take it for granted that the common interpretation is right. A general and sponta- neous concurrence of opinions, as to the meaning of a passage in the Bible, or in any other book, would be presumptive evidence that such opinion is correct. The weight of this evidence how- ever, would be gi'eat or small, according to circumstances in a given case. And in no case can it be sufficient to supersede a personal examination, in one who is a professed interpreter of the sacred oracles. Still it should be said, 3. That it must not he his aim to find a new sense to his text. Whatever danger results from a tame submission to authority on this subject, the attractions of novelty are still more danger- ous, to a man of sprightly genius, not matured by experience and judgment. To exhibit the points of difference between his opin- ions and those of others, gives opportunity to display at once, the extent of his reading, and the superiority of his discern- ment. But how does such puerile ostentation accord with the dignity of his office, who is " a servant of the most high God, to show unto men the way of salvation." No translation or commentary is to be regarded as exempt from the scrutiny of criticism ; nor need we scruple to say, on any proper occasion, thai the received English version of the Bible has many inaccuracies and defects. Yet to assail tiiis ver- 102 STKUCTURE OF SERMONS. sion from the pulpit, on all occasions ; and thus to invalidate its authority with common minds, while we admit its correctness, as to the great outlines of divine truth, is a mistake, which no preacher of good sense will commit. Besides, in this case it is oftener pedantry than learning, that is displayed. One of those venerable men, who assisted in forming this version, being after- wards on a journey, heard its defects pointed out, to an illiterate congregation, by a very young preacher, who, in one instance assigned three reasons why a word should have been differently translated. In the evening, the learned divine said to the young man : " You might have preached a more useful sermon to these poor hearers. The king's translators considered vi^ell the three reasons which you have suggested for another rendering of that word ; but they were induced by thirteen weightier reasons, to prefer the rendering that was adopted." On this point, I am happy to express my own views in the language of Dr. Campbell, who was at once an enlightened scholar and a judicious preacher. " Particular care," says he, " ought to be taken, in expounding the Scriptures, not to appear over-learned, and over-critical. There is no occasion to obtrude on an audience, as some do, all the jarring interpreta- tions given by different commentators ; for this knowledge can serve no other purpose than to distract their thoughts. Before you begin to build, it is necessary to remove such impediments as lie directly in your way ; but you could not account him oth- er than a very foolish builder, who should first collect a deal of rubbish, which was not in his way, and could not have obstruct- ed his work, that he might have the pleasure and merit of re- moving it. And do the fantastic, absurd, and contradictory glosses of commentators deserve a better name than rubbish ? No, surely. Where a false gloss cannot be reasonably supposed to be either known or thought of by the audience, it is in the preacher worse than being idly ostentatious of his learning, to introduce such erroneous gloss or comment." We must always remember too, the difference between a church and a college. In most Christian congregations GENERAL PRINCIPLES. 103 there are very few, if any linguists. I do not say that we ought never to mention the original. Justice to the passage we ex- plain, may sometimes require it. Nor is it necessary that our translators should be deemed infallible. But then, on the other hand, it is neither modest nor prudent in the preacher, especial- ly if a young man, to be at every turn censuring the translators, and pretending to mend their version. It is not modest ; as they over whom the corrector assumes a superiority, are allowed on all hands, to have been men of eminent talents and erudition. And it is not prudent, as this practice never fails to produce, in the minds of the people, a want of confidence in their Bible. Indeed, in regard to every thing which may be introduced, eith- er in the way of criticism or comment, it is not enough that such an observation is just, that such an interpretation has been actually given, or that such an opinion has been maintained ; — the previous inquiry which the preacher ought to make by him- self is, whether it be of any consequence to the people to be in- formed of the observation, comment, or opinion. If on other occasions, more especially on this, the apostolical admonition ought to be sacredly observed, that " nothing proceed out of the speaker's mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace to the hearers." On the literary vanity, which employs an excess of criticism, in the pulpit, I add one more remark, that it has no countenance from the highest of all examples, that of our Lord and his Apos- tles. The great body of primitive Christians, had access to the Hebrew scriptures chiefly through a translation ; and one less perfect, unquestionably, than the common version in our lan- guage. Yet the first preachers of Christianity, qualified as they certainly were, to correct all mistakes, by gifts more adequate than those of scholarship, " never perplexed their hearers with various readings and various renderings." You may say perhaps, of what value to me as a Christian teacher, or to my hearers, is my critical knowledge, if I am not to use it ? I answer, of the same value with any other knowl- edge, if you have not discretion to use it aright ; that is, of no [04 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. value at all. You may have a knowledge of grammar, and make it subservient to the great business of the pulpit, without giving your hearers in every sermon, a disquisition upon etymol- ogy and syntax. Your logic may be made the instrument of in- struction and conviction to sinners, without acquainting them with the ten categories of Aristotle, or the difference between abstract and concrete temis. Your eloquence may melt your hearers, while they know not that you have read Quinctilian or Longinus ; and care not whether the figure that thrilled their bosoms, has been called metonymy or apostrophe, in technical rhetoric. Just so you may use your knowledge of sacred crit- icism, without abusing it. From its stores, humility and good sense may jlraw the richest instruction for your hearers, without ostentation on your part, or perplexity on theirs. Thus far, the way before us has seemed to be obvious. That the preacher may announce the true meaning of his text, as the subject of discourse, he must first ascertain this meaning. In doing this, he must not presume that the true sense of the pas- sage is wrapped up in mystery ; nor that it is of course so plain as to render examination superfluous ; nor, when it is plain, that he is at liberty to display his ingenuity or learning, by m- venting some novel interpretation. But it may be said, the chief inquiry still remains, by what process is he to determine for himself, that he may exhibit to his hearers, the true meaning of his text. Were I competent to the undertaking, it would be preposterous to turn aside from the proper object of these lectures, to discuss the science of bibli- cal criticism, or even to give the briefest outline of this science. Writers of sermons, who are still members of this sacred Semi- nary, may avail themselves of the ample system of instruction in this department, which belongs to their regular theological course. Other young preachers, who have not enjoyed these or similar advantages, may easily find access to books, which will give important aid to their investigations. In the absence of all others, the little manual of Emesti, entitled " Elements STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. 105 of Interpretation,^^ translated with notes by Professor Stuart, will be found an invaluable treasury of elementary principles. Having remarked at so much length on the practical pririci- ples to be observed by the preacher in explaining a text, when its meaning is doubtful, I shall be brief in noticing the other topic, which belongs to this lecture ; namely, the jJi'opositioii of the sub- ject. The term proposition, as used in logic, is applicable only to an assemblage of words, in which something is affirmed. As used by writers on oratory, it is not restricted to this sense, but applies to any form of expression, in which the subject of a dis- course is announced. Thus, if my text were ; " There is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good and sinn^th not," I might say, we are called to consider as the subject of this dis- course, the " universal sinfulness of men: " or, I might reduce it to a logical affirmation, and say, — the doctrine of the text is, " that all men are sinners.^^ Either form amounts to what rhetoricians mean by a proposition of the subject ; though I would not say that, in all circumstances, either fomi is equally good. If you take the former method, you have indeed a sub- ject before you, but you feel at liberty to treat it in the way of discursive remarks. If you take the logical proposition, you are pledged to one course : you must prove the thing affirmed, before you make it the subject of inference or exhortation. A sermon wTitten under such a necessity, is more likely to possess unity, and to combine to the best advantage, instruction with . impression. For reasons that are obvious to every mind, the doctrine or duty to be discussed in the sermon, should be announced in the proposition, with as much brevity and clearness as possible. Two cu'cumstances, in this connexion, deserve some regard. One is, that when you are prepared to state your subject, the form of expression employed, should be such, as to give the hearers a momentary premonition that you are about to do it. For example ; " The doctrine which is taught in the text, 14 106 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. and which I shall endeavour to estabUsh in the following dis- course, is this, that the only possibility of human salvation, con- sistent with the character and government of God, is suspended on the atonement of Christ." Now, if language like this is em- ployed, every intelligent hearer will perceive that you are about to announce your subject before you have done it ; and accord- ingly that sentence of your sermon, which it is more important for him to remember than any other, he will be more likely to remember. But many preachers would reverse the order of members, in the example given above, and consequently the hearers, being told in the end of a complex sentence, that the subject of the sermon ivas stated at the beginning of it, may re- call the statement, if they can. The other circumstance is, that the terms employed in sta- ting the subject, should be such, if possible, as not to call for e.c- planation after the proposition is announced. $^ LECTURE VIII. UNITY. When the preacher has ascertained the sense of his text, and, after a proper exordium, has placed his subject distinctly before his hearers, he must proceed in some method to elucidate and apply this subject. The next thing that comes regularly to be considered in the structure of sermons, is division. But you are aware, gentlemen, that many object to divisions, especially to regular and explicit divisions, in a sermon ; — because, as it is said, they are inconsistent with unity. This objection is not merely the offspring of a fastidious or fanciful taste ; it has been made by men of respectable name. The Archbishop of Cambray, whose judgment is entitled to high regard, says ; " Thei-e re- mains no tme unity after such divisions ; seeing they make two or three discourses which are joined into one, only by an arbitrary connexion." And Bishop Burnet, himself an excellent preach- er, recommends that a sermon should have ^'one head and only one, well stated and fully set out." The canons of rhetoric invariably require unity, not only in dramatic and epic poetry, but also in oratory. And every one who has learned his first lessons in sacred eloquence, admits without doubting, that unity is an essential attribute of a good sermon. Now, though the same precision of language is not de- ; 108 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. manded here, as in the abstract sciences, it is perfectly obvious that men of good sense seem to differ on this subject, because they have been accustomed to attach no definite meaning to their words. It becomes necessary then to examine the ques- tion, what is unity in a sermon ? — and the importance of this point to our main business, requires that the examination shall be extended through this Lecture. In entering on this subject, let me say, I do not mean by uni- ty that sameness which excludes all interesting variety of thought and illustration in a discourse. If twenty pieces of coin, stamped with the same die, are spread before you, each is so perfectly like the rest, that though you turn them over and over, you see the same object still without variety. If you travel across an extended plain of arid sand, stretching around you, in a wide, unchanging scene of barrenness, there too you have oneness, without variety. But how soon do you long for a hill, a rivulet, a cottage, a tree, or even a shrub, to relieve you from this in- tolerable unity of prospect. If you stand on the deck of a ship, in mid-ocean, on the morning of a calm summer's day, you con- template this vast expanse of waters with emotions of sublimity. But how soon does the eye become weary of a scene, which presents nothing but one immense, unvarying, unmeaning uni- formity ? Suppose now you sail down a majestic river ; here, on its banks, a flourishing village meets your eye ; there, a rug- ged cHfF; there, cultivated fields ; and there, a tributary stream rushes down from the neighboring mountains. Or suppose you travel a great road, leading through a fertile country, inter- spersed with meadows, and forests, with the splendour of wealth and the simplicity of rustic life. In these cases, the unity, of the river or the road, is associated with an interesting variety. You glance at the changing scenery as you pass on, and feel the vivacity which it inspires, without being at all diverted from your chief object. Now, to apply these illustrations to the purpose in hand. There is a kind of unity in a sermon, which indeed is in no dan- ger of distracting the attention of hearers, by the multiplicity of UNITY. 109 objects presented. It consists in a constant recurrence of the same thought, attenuated and repeated with undevia- ting uniformity. The hearers pass on with the preaciier, not from one branch of the discourse to another, dehghted with the richness of matter and variety of illustration ; but from one top- ic, presented again, with some trifling changes of representation. The above sort of taste, indeed, does not always deign, in this last particular, to humour the caprice of hearers. It gives them over and over the same favorite thoughts, in the same favorite expressions ; and often very consistently completes its claims to their attention, by a favorite monotony in delivery. Nor is this sameness limited to a single discourse of the preacher ; — it ex- tends, perhaps, through the whole range of his instructions ; so that whatever reason the hearers may have to expect a new text, they have the advantage of foreseeing, essentially, what the sermon will be, from sabbath to sabbath. Now, if this is the in- dispensable quality in sermons which we call unity, it is one, as all will agree, in which it is the province of dullness to excel. But to suppose that our hearers are benefited by such a same- ness, in the pulpit, is to suppose that when they enter a place of v/orship, they cease to be men. Correct views on this subject, are to be acquired only by studying the human mind, in its gen- eral operations. That acute and able writer, the late Profes- sor Brown, in analyzing the philosophy of emotions, has the fol- lowing remarks, which I quote with pleasure, as strengthening the illustrations already given. " Even objects that originally excited the highest interest, if long continued, cease to interest, and soon become painful. Who, that is not absolutely deaf, could sit for a whole day, in a music room, if the same air with- out variation, were begun again in the very instant of its last note? The most beautiful couplet, of the most beautiful poem, if repeated to us without intermission, for a very few minutes, would excite more uneasiness than could have been felt from the single recitation of the dullest stanza, of the most soporific inditer of rhymes. How weary are we of many of the lines of our best poets, which are quoted to us forever, by those who 110 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. read only what others quote. What we admired when we read it first, fatigues and disappoints us, when we meet with it so of- ten ; and the author appears to us ahnost trite and common in his most original images, merely because these images are so very beautiful, as to have become some of the common places of rhetorical selection. Notwithstanding our certainty that a road without one turn, must lead us to our journey's end, it would be to our mind, and thus indu'ectly to our body also, which is soon weary when the mind is Aveary, the most fatiguing of all roads. A very long av- enue is sufficiently wearying, even when we see the house that is at the end of it. But what patience could travel for a whole day, along one endless avenue, with perfect parallelism of the two straight lines, and with trees of the same species and height succeeding each other exactly at the same intervals? In a journey like this, there would be the same comfort in being blind, as there would in a little temporary deafiiess, in the case before imagined of the same unvaried melody, endlessly repeat- ed in the music room. The uniformity of similar trees, at sim- ilar distances, would itself be most wearisome. But what we should feel with far more uneasiness, would be the constant dis- appointment of our expectation, that the last tree, which we be- held in the distance, would be the last that would rise upon us ; when tree after tree as in mockery of our patience itself, would still present the same dismal continuity of Hne." I need not be more particular in applying these illustrations. As men are constituted, they demand variety in intellectual sub- jects, as well as in material. And the preacher of good sense, will never be anxious to attain that unity in his public instmc- tions, which excludes a proper variety. What then is the unity so important to be observed in the composition of a sermon ? I answer, it requires that the sermon should be. In the first place, one in subject. It will be unnecessary to dwell on this point, farther than to ex- plain my meaning. The preacher may have but one chief sub- UNITY. Ill ject in his eye, and yet manage so unskilfully as, by way of preparatory remark, to suggest a number of distinct subjects, which will preoccupy the attention of the hearers, and leave a divided impression on their minds. This is especially liable to be the case, when a sermon commences with critical discus- sions, extended to some length. As an example of this fault, I mention Claude's plan on the text, — Acts II, 27. " Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption." The subject is, the resurrection of Christ. Before entering on this, however, he would discuss two other pouits. In the first place, he would show that the lan- guage of the Psalmist, quoted in the text, was correctly under- stood by Peter, as referring to Christ. In the second place, he would refute the opinion of the Romish Church respecting Christ's descent into what they call " linibus patrum,'' as ground- ed on the word hell in the text, which in this case means the state of the dead. But with whatever propriety these several topics might be embraced in an expository lecture ; a sermon on the resurrection of Christ, would evidently be ruined by a formal, preparatory discussion of Peter's inspiration, and of a gross superstition, founded on a verbal mistake. The former should be taken for granted ; and the latter, noticed in the briefest man- ner possible, while explaining the terms of the text. There is another way in which the above principle is violated. The preacher, from an apprehension of falling short in matter, or from a false notion that his hearers will be edified, in propor- tion to the range of topics in each sermon, contrives to bring be- fore them every sabbath, the whole system of religion. Every subject, which has any affinity to the one in hand, comes in for its share of attention. Thus in considering the question of Pi- late, " What is truth ? " the hearers are gravely told, that all truths have a common foundation, and a common connexion one with another ; and hence it comes fairly within the compass of the sermon, to speak of every thing which is true. In regard to the violation of unity by such a iieterogeneous assemblage of matter, the preacher might often receive admonition, by attempt- 112 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. ing to fix on a brief title to his discourse ; or even by searching for z psalm or hymn, appropriate to his subject. In the second place, unity requires that a sermon should he ONE IN DESIGN. The wise preacher will propose to himself some chief effect which he hopes to produce, by every discourse. This is a dis- tinct thing from the subject of discourse ; just as the same end, in other cases, may be sought by various means. Thus, if you would make sinners feel their guilt, your direct subject may be either their obligations or their transgressions. If you would con- sole a good man in affliction, your subject may be, the perfection of God's providence, or the benefit of afflictions. If you would in- culcate the obligation of children to love their parents, you may do this by preaching on filial affection, as a direct subject, or on the character of Joseph, as an indirect one. The good to be accomplished by a sermon, whatever is its subject, must de- pend very much on its adaptedness to leave on the hearers' minds some specific and predominant impression. Whether it bears upon insensibility, or error, or vice ; whether it is de- signed to alarm the careless sinner, or to strengthen the waver- ing Christian, its bearing should be distinctly seen and felt. This requires not only that the sermon should have a definite subject and a definite design, but that these should be constant- ly in the preacher's eye. " It is a favorite method with me," said Cecil, " to reduce the text to some point of doctrine. On that topic I enlarge, and then apply it. I like to ask myself, ' What are you doing ? — What is your aim ? " This leads me to remark. In the third place, that unity requires a sermon to be one in THE ADJUSTMENT OF ITS PARTS TO THE PRINCIPAL END, AND TO EACH OTHER. And here I lay it down as an elementary principle of great importance, that a discourse should be adapt- ed to produce an effect as a whole. This principle was substan- tially stated above, but is here varied in form, for the sake of a more extended illustration. It is not enough that there is a suc- cession of good words, or of stinking sentences, or of brilliant UNITY. 113 paragraphs, or even of weighty, detached thoughts. The choice and arrangement of matter should be such, as to produce a grow- ing interest in the auditors, and to leave a strong impression of the subject on their minds. This supposes the preacher, before Avriting, to have examined well the materials of which the ser- mon is to consist, and to have settled with himself the order in which these are to be disposed, to the best advantage. There is no work of art in which this principle of unity is not essential to perfection. The architect studies the purpose, for which a building is intended, while he adjusts its parts in his whole plan. Is it a church 1 It must have one chief apartment, so designed as to accommodate a whole assembly, in listening to one speaker, and uniting in the same acts of devotion, at the same time. Is it a senate house ? Its dimensions, apartments, and proportions, must correspond with the particular ejid of its construction. Is it a private dwelling 1 Here again the main "purpose must be kept in sight; and such a relation preserved be- tween different stories, and different rooms, as the convenience of the occupants may require. Is it a country seat ? The skil- ful architect will employ what is called the prophetic eye of taste. He will anticipate just what the principal edifice, and the subordinate buildings will be when finished. It is not a fine column, or window, or gateway, that makes a beautiful seat, but the combined effect of symmetry and fitness, which strikes the eye, in the structure and its appendages, when viewed as a whole. So with the landscape gardener. Give him a rude spot to transform into a beautiful garden ; and he sees by anticipation, how each part of the grounds must be shaped, where each ave- nue must pass, and each tree and shrub must stand, when the plan is completed ; and " when he plants a seedling, he already sits under its shade." So the historic painter ,if he would represent a shipwreck, must not be satisfied to show you a broken mast or cable. Nor yet must he show you the mariners clinging to a tempest beaten ship, while other ships in the same prospect are becalmed. The heavens must frown with blackness, and the 15 114 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. ocean swell in angry surges, and spread before you a consist- ent scene of terrific sublimity. So the portrait painter must not exhaust his skill on a single feature, but must exhibit the united expression of all the features, in the human face divine." "'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call ; But the joint force and full result of all." So the epic or dramatic poe^, must not set before you an incon- gruous succession of characters or incidents, violating all proba- bility and consistency. He must show you a train of things, growing in interest, and leading on to some common result. Shakspeare, though he has been called the stumbling block of critics, as often inelegant, obscure, and ungrammatical in style ; and though he pays little regard often, to what are called the unities of time and place, shews you men and things as they are. He not only pleases you with here and there a speech, but ar- rests your attention to the course of events ; fills you with a restless eagerness to keep up with his incidents ; and leaves you at last under some strong impression, that abides with you. Of this great dramatic poet Johnson says ; " He who tries to recommend him by select quotations, will succeed like the ped- ant in Hierocles, who, w^hen he offered his house for sale, car- ried a brick in his pocket, as a specimen." When you have read Julius Cassar, or Hamlet, you may be unable to repeat a single line, but you never can forget the subject. I have extended these illustrations, to show that preaching is not exempt from the common laws which apply to all other things, where good sense and taste are to be exercised. A ser- mon should have unity of plan. The matter, length, and order of its parts should be so adjusted, as to preclude anticipation, repetition, and collision. Good judgment will not so much in- qune, whether a thought is important, as whether it belongs to the subject in hand, and in what place it may be introduced, so as most to increase the general effect. That is not useful preach- ing, which is a mere collection of good remarks, without the UNITY. 1 1 5 scope, connexion and impression, which belong to a regular dis- course. Nor is that a profitable sermon, which now and then startles the hearers, with a vivid flash of thought, or makes them remember a few eccentric phrases ; — 'but that which fixes their eye on a single subject ; which holds their attention steadily to that subject ; which gives them as they go on, a clearer percep- tion and a deeper feeling of that subject; and finally compels them to remember that subject, though they cannot repeat one expression uttered by the preacher. To accomplish this end, I only add, fourthly, there must be UNITY OF ILLUSTRATION. No mixing of topics in argument, or of incongruous images should be allowed to impair the object of a discourse. "Servetur ad imurn, Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet." Of a distinguished living preacher, it is remarked by a pro- fessed critic, that, " exuberant as are his resources, little or nothing is introduced by him, without a distinct reference to his main design. Every additional figure or idea, illustrative of his chief topic, serves, for the most part, to convey it more distinctly to the mind ; and though Pelion is sometimes heaped upon Ossa, in his gigantic sport, we do not view it as a useless exertion, when he appears himself to be reaching heaven by the process, and showing us a path to the same elevation." Such is that unity which is worthy to be sought in the pul- pit. It is not a sterile sameness ; but it requires that a sermon should be one in subject, one in design, one in the adap- tation of its parts to each other, and to the common effect,, and one in illustration. Of course, unity does not forbid divisions ; it only requires that these should not exhibit several distinct subjects, but only that they should present several parts of the same subject, as one complete whole. Against such a fault as that just alluded to, it will be our business to guard still farther^ in considering the characteristics of a perfect division. LKCTURE IX. DIVISION. OBJECTIONS TO ; UTILITY OF ; KINDS OF ;- RULES. The objection that divisions in a sermon are inconsistent with unity, rendered it proper to consider, at length, in my last lec- ture, this most important principle in the sacred work of the preacher. Two other objections require a brief notice at this time. It is sometimes said, that divisions give a stiff and mechanical appearance to a discourse ; that to announce its chief parts be- forehand, is to take from it the charm of novelty, and to destroy the pleasure which an intelligent hearer would derive from dis- covering your method for himself. But you must remember, that of those to whom the gospel is preached, only a small part are so intelligent, as to perceive that which is not very easily perceived. To adopt an occult method, because this is supposed to be most consistent with the mles of elegance, or because some obscurity furnishes exercise to the ingenuity of hearers, is a doubtful expedient, even in re- spect to cultivated minds ; but in respect to plain men, such as constitute the body of every congregation, it is, to say the least, a great error in judgment. If such hearers might be able to an- DIVISION. 117 alyze an obscure train of thought, in a printed discourse, this is not to be expected in one that is spoken, where they liave no opportunity to examine and compare different parts. The other objection is, that divisions are a scholastic device, unknown in the best days of ancient oratory. That the celebrated orators of old, were less formal in this re- spect, than has been common in the modern sermon, is certain ; and perhaps a sufficient reason for this appears in the object of their orations, and the character of those to whom they were ad- dressed. But the most celebrated of those orations have meth- od, and some of them, method very distinctly expressed. Ci- cero, in his oration for the Manilian law, has three divisions ; the nature of the Mithridatic war ; — the greatness of it ; — and tlie choice of a proper general. The first of these heads is discussed under four minor heads. — the honor of the state ; — the safety of their allies ; — the public revenue, — and the interests of private citizens. The third head, too, has four minor heads. Pompey is recommended as a consummate general, for his military skill ; — his courage ; — his authority ; and his success. The same or- ator, in his seventh Phillipic, dissuades the senate from making peace with Mark Anthony, by three heads of argument, show- ing the measure to be base, to be dangerous, and to be imprac- ticable. In his oration for Murasna, the division has been al- lowed by some critics to be perfect. " The whole accusation, O judges, may be reduced to three heads ; one consists in ob- jections against his life ; the second relates to the dignity of his office ; the third includes the cormption, with which he is charged." His oration against Cecilius has two, and that for Publius Quinctius three general divisions. To mention no other examples, Quinctilian says, " divisions may be too many, but ought not, as some think, to be limited to three." So much for an objection, drawn from antiquity, against that method in a discourse, which constituted so impor- tant a part of both theory and practice, in ancient eloquence. 118 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. We proceed now to consider the niUity of divisions, — the dif- ferent kinds that have been employed, — and the rules by which they should be conducted. In remarking on the M^^7^^y of method, let it be observed, that I mean to recommend a method which is obvious to the hearers ; and in general, one that is announced by the preacher, in enter- ing on the discussion of his subject. Though his plan of thought may be distinctly marked in his own mind, and though every sentence he utters may be intelligible, the seraion, if the method is studiously concealed, will have only the aspect and effect of a smooth essay. He who aims to save rather than amuse his hearers, will not scruple to interrupt the polished flow of his composition, by dividing it into separate heads. Not that these should, of course, be named numerically at the opening of the sermon. It is not always best that so formal a distribution, by first, second, third &oC. should announce the main heads, before- hand ; and seldom can this be properly done with the subordi- nate ones. In regard to these latter, the speaker as he passes on, may, if he chooses to omit the numerical distribution, mark them sufficiently by pauses, by antithetic distinction of words, by change of quantity and j^ji^cA of voice, or by simple em- phasis.* Doctor Doddridge advises that more prominence still shall be given to divisions, by the manner of announcing them. Thus his own practice was, to mention the general heads tivice, be- forehand. At the opening of each head, if it was to have sub- divisions, he announced these beforehand ; and in the conclusion, he briefly recapitulated all his topics, principal and subordinate. So rigid exactness, as a universal habit of a preacher, seems to me undesirable ; yet he will be compelled to study lucid ar- rangement, by a frequent resort to such a practice. Among the advantages of an obvious method, I remark that persjncuity is promoted by it. The understanding is a faculty that delights in order. It contemplates with ease and pleasure, * Jay's Family Discourses, furnish a good pattern for short subdi- visions. DIVISION. 119 things that are placed before it in the light of a just arrangement. Hence Horace properly calls such arrangement^ " lucidus ordo." — Hence again, Beauty is promoted by order. Aside from those laws of mind, agreeably to which method facilitates our perception of re- lations among things ; according to our principles of emotion, good taste is disgusted with confusion. A fine library, promiscu- ously jumbled together, without regard to connexion of volumes, or distinct works, would ofiend tlie eye just in proportion to the intrinsic worth, or the elegant appearance of the several books. The same emotion of incongruity is excited by thoughts or expressions, however biilliant, which have no connexion. Brevity is promoted by order. The poet above alluded to says — " This will be the excellence and beauty of method, that it will enable the writer just now to say, what just now ought to be said, and to omit every thing else." He who classes his thoughts on a subject, will see what to use, and what to refuse, among the general mass of matter related to that subject. Be- sides, confusion of thought leads to repetition ; and repetition leads to undue length. Energy is prompted by order ; in two ways ; the first is by concentration. The power of a discourse to impress the mind, depends not on the separate impulse of its parts, but on the combined effect of the whole. And often an argument derives all its strength from its standing in proper connexion with other arguments. The united strength of five men, might easily raise a weight, which the separate efforts of the five, would be unable to stir. The regular phalanx, disposed in order of battle, so that each individual may support the whole line, is irresistible in its outset. But the undisciplined rabble is harmless in its move- ments, if not contemptible. The other way in which order contributes to strength, is by promoting vivacity. Give to the traveller, who is to pass through a strange country, a chart, pointing out beforehand his road, with the chief objects that will demand his attention, and he pursues his way with increased spirit. Even the languor of a single l!20 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. (lay's journey is relieved by his being able often to ascertain what progress he has made, and what is the distance to the next stage. So division relieves heaviness in a discourse. Quinctil- ian supposes his orator to say, " I will tell you what facts oc- curred before this transaction, what at the time, and what after- wards." " This" he says " will seem to be three short narra- tions, instead of a single long one. The hearer is refreshed as he perceives the end of the last division, and prepares himself, as to a new beginning." The advantage of such transitions, Cicero well understood. " Hitherto Caesar," said he, having advanced one stage in his defence, " Hitherto Caesar, Ligarius appears to be free from fault," and then commences another branch of his argiunent. Finally, Memory is assisted by order. It were easy to show how im- portant this consideration is to the preacher himself, if he wishes to be able, in any case, to address his fellow men, without the most servile dependence on a manuscript. But I refer espe- cially to the memory of hearers. What is memory ? It is that reflex operation of the mind, by which it recalls its past thoughts. The capacity of doing this, in a given case, other things being equal, depends on the strength of original impressions, and the circumstances which faciliate the voluntary repetition of those impressions. A succession of ideas must be understood, before it can be remembered ; and perspicuous method is the vivid light, by which the mind clearly perceives, and deeply feels what is presented before it. But as few original impressions are so deeply imprinted, as to fix themselves in the adult mind, without repetition, the recollection of its thoughts depends much on its power to reneiv them, at pleasure. And this again de- pends on the associations by which they are connected. For example ; suppose you were to enter, for the first time, a city with parallel streets, in one direction, marked according to the ordinals, first, second, third ; and the intersecting, parallel streets marked with the names of the United States, in their usual or- der. How easily would you remember the plan of this city, compared with that of another, where the streets are laid out at DIVISION. 121 random, are crooked, irregular, and designated perhaps, by names which you never heard before. Suppose you were introduced to ten strangers, who should keep their seats in the same order, till you had recalled a few times the name of each, successive- ly. With how much more ease could you recollect them, than if they had been, all this time, passing about the room. The reason why familiar things are not forgotten is, that frequent re- currence stamps impression. The importance of method to memory, therefore, as an associating principle, hes chiefly in the fact, that method is the medium of spontaneous and instan- taneous reflection. The incidents in the story of Joseph, for example, are so connected, that one reading fixes them in the memory of even a child. But that must be a miraculous memory, which could repeat, in the same manner, the genealogical lists of names in the Chronicles. Witherspoon says, " Suppose I desire a person going to a city, to do several things for me ; as to deliver a letter to^pne man ; to visit a friend of mine, and bring me notice how he is ; to buy a book for me ; and see whether any ship is to sail for Britain soon. — It is very possible he may remember some of them, and forget the others. But if I desire him to buy me a dozen of silver spoons, to carry them to an engraver, that my name may be put on them, and to procure a case for them ; — if he remembers one article, it is likely he will remember all." In view of the foregoing illustrations, I \\\\\ only add that the importance of method, by which 1 mean obvious method, in a sermon, is so unquestionable, that to affirm it, is only saying in other words, that the sermon of which the hearers remember nothing, is useless. The principle involved, in this case, may be tried by one simple, practical test. The custom of taking notes of sermons, as they are delivered, was common in the an- cient church, and to some extent it prevails, in many congrega- tions at this day. Suppose then a sermon to be immethodical and incoherent, I do not ask whether an expert stenographer can record every word of it, from the mouth of the speaker? but can an intelligent hearer commit to paper a brief outline of 16 122 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. the chief thoughts, in such an arrangement, that the review of these will enable him to recollect the substance of the whole sermon ? If not, an elementary principle of preaching has been disregarded, in the composition of the sennon. The appeal may also be made to teachers of schools, and to Christian parents, who are still in the good old practice of call- ing their children to " repeat sermons ;" what sort of sermons are those of which they can give the best account ? Without a single exception, the answer will be, those sermons which are constructed on a simple, obvious train of thought ; — not those in which there is an occult method, or no method. Let the " teacher of babes," condescend to be taught by babes, ih this thing. LECTURE X. DIVISION. We are to consider next the different kinds of method. These are, the textual, the topical, and the scholastic. 1. The textual or verbal division is taken from the words of the text. An example of this sort we have in the exhortation of the Apostle, " Add to your faith virtue, and to virtue knowl- edge, and to knowledge temperance &ic." where the preacher follows these particulars, in a separate consideration of each word, B.S faith, virtue, knoivledge, &;c. 2. Tlie topical division drops the phraseology of the text, and is grounded on its seitse, as expressed in some distinct proposi- tion. A sermon of this sort, on the text just mentioned, instead of treating five or six subjects, would illustrate perhaps this one theme, " that all the graces of the gospel are united in the charac- ter of the consistent Christian." The words of Christ, to the malefactor on the cross, " To-day shalt thou be with me in Par- adise," the textual preacher would divide thus ; Consider first the person to whom this promise was made, " Thou," the peni- tent thief. Secondly the matter of the promise, " shalt be with me in Paradise." Thirdly the time of its accomplishment, " To- day." The topical preacher would perhaps divide thus ; " First, the death of believers introduces them immediately, to eternal happiness. Secondly God sometimes prepares men for this hap- piness in the last moments of life." On such a text as this, — " What doth the Lord require of 124 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. thee, but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God," no better division perhaps can be adopted, than that suggested by the words. But in general, this is the favorite method of only dry and difflise preachers. 3. The scholastic division, consisting of subject, predicate, and copula, may be more or less related to either of the preced- ing. Suppose the text is, " He that believeth shall be saved ;" and the plan of discourse is, to show first, — " What it is to be- lieve : secondly, what is it to be saved ; and thirdly the certainty that all who believe shall be saved ;" the method would accord with what is probably the prevailing taste of the pulpit. A ser- mon of an English preacher, published lately, has this text, " The just shall live by faith." No thought could be more simple than the one here suggested. But the scheme of dis- course is the following ; " I propose, first, to show the mean- ing of the term just, as used in the text. Secondly, to explain the nature of faith. And thirdly, in what manner it is that the just may be said to live by faith." Another English sermon published 1826, on the text, " The name of the Lord is a strong tower, the righteous runneth into it and is safe ;" has this method ; 1. What we are to understand by the name of the Lord. 2. What by its being a strong tower. 3. What is the safety it affords. 4. Who are the persons that partake of this safety. But carry the same taste into a deliberative oration on this topic for example, "' the connexion between knowledge arid lib- erty among a people'' and let the orator announce his method thus ; " I shall consider first, what we are to understand by knowledge ; — secondly, what by liberty ; and thirdly how the one is connected with the other ;" and I need not say how tame and puerile this discourse would appear. Yet so strong is the tendency to this artificial structure, in sermonizing, that one can hardly look amiss'^for examples of it. It remains that I mention some rules, by which divisions should be conducted. And they should be, \. Necessary. The subject should not only allow, but should ^ DIVISION. 125 seem to require them. It is the province of a barren invention, as I have before remarked, to give every sermon just so many heads as to correspond with the habits of the preacher, without enquiring whether the topics to be discussed are distinct or not. And where this mechanical taste prevails, it commonly happens that the requisite number of parts is made out, by forcing asun- der things, which really belong to the same class ; or rather, by a tedious repetition of the same things, under the most insipid form of variety, a mere difference of numerical distribution. 2. Divisions should be well arranged. The connexion between them should not only exist in the preacher's mind, but should be apparent to the hearers. The ch\e^ principles of ar- rangement, I shall notice briefly. When the different topics will allow it, the relation o( series should be observed. Each pre- ceding particular should prepare the way for the following, and lead it in, by an easy transition of thought. This principle is violated, when the first head supposes the second to be already understood, by the hearers. In most subjects of argument, the logical order is more or less to be observed. Thus when we reason from causes to effects, or from effects to causes, or when things are stated according to order of time, an obvious relation exists, which determines the proper arrangement. There are indeed some cases in which the order is nearly arbitrary. If I were discussing Christian obedience, I might say with Tillotson, that it is sincere, universal, and constant ; or I might give these characteristics in a reversed order, without injuring the entire discussion. But if I were considering the fall and restoration of Peter, the two parts of the subject cannot be indifferently trans- posed. It would be preposterous to describe the repentance of this Apostle, before I had described his sin. On the same general principle, it would not be proper to mingle, in a consecutive series, things which belong to different classes. If I were proving the divine origin of the scriptures, and should take my first argument from miracles, my second, from the doctrines of the Bible, and my third, from prophecy, the sources of proof would be unexceptionable, but the arrange- 126 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. ment is unskilful ; because the first and third topics belong to external, and the second to internal evidences. Nor is it proper to confound what logicians call the genus and the species. If I were illustrating the dignity of man from his faculties, it would not be proper to consider first his reason, secondly his ivill, thirdly his soul, fourthly his conscience ; because the third comprehends all the rest. The same incongruity would be seen by a child, if it were carried into geographical divisions; as 1. Maine, 2. New Hampshire, 3. New England, 4. Massachusetts, 5. the county of Essex. 3. Divisions should be complete. By this I do not mean to say, as a general rule, that all the topics which appertain to a subject should be introduced into a discourse on that subject ; but that when we profess to present it as a whole, by its several parts, we should exhibit all those parts. Thus, if I were describing light, by the distribution of its rays into the principal colors, I must not enumerate red, orange, yellow, green, and then stop ; but must go through the seven. If I were describing Massachusetts, by^ its counties, I must not stop after naming Suffolk, Essex, Middlesex ; — ^but must mention the whole. So when an intellectual subject is to be treated according to distinct properties or parts, the distribu- tion should not be partial but complete. 4. Divisions should, notwithstanding, be few. A map may exhibit geographical lines, mountains, rivers, cities, and a few objects of prominent importance. But attempt to make it embrace minute things, to represent private planta- tions and dwellings, and you frustrate its design. The eye is disgusted with this multiplicity and confusion of things. So an excessive enumeration of particulars, in a sermon, distracts the minds of the hearers. A preacher of the seventeenth century, having employed thirty divisions in explaining his text, says, " I shall not shred the words into unnecessary parts ;" and then adds fifty six more divisions to explain the subject. Another, of the same period, whose sermon had already exceeded a hun- dred and seventy parts, gravely apologized for omitting " sun- DIVISION. 127 dry useilil points, pitching only on that which comprehended the marrow, and the substance." " When I sit under such preaching," says Dr. Watts, " I fancy myself brought into the valley of Ezekiel's vision ; it ' was full of bones, and behold there were very many in the valley, and lo they were very dry: " 5. Divisions should be concise in terms. I mean that the words employed should be few ; and when it is possible, the chief thought should be expressed in a single word. The rea- son of this rule is, that, in stating a head, we simply inform our hearers what is the point to be discussed ; and the more simply and briefly we do this, the more easily is our division under- stood and remembered. Welwood, on the text, " Who ma- keth thee to differ from another ?" has this tedious round of words in his division ; "1. The consideration of the authority of God, under which we are all equally placed, notwithstanding the variety in our conditions, ought to teach us an implicit acquiescence in the du- ties, and in the lot assigned us. 2. Our obligations to cultivate the blessings we have re- ceived, and the consequences of their perversion, are exactly the same, whatever may be our portion of advantages ; and, 3. The sentence which shall at last be pronounced on our conduct at the tribunal of God, will have a special relation to the advantages which have been given, or have been denied us ; and to the condition in which every individual has served God, or has sinned against him." Now, if the preacher should repeat this antithetic lumber of phrases and members a thousand times, not one of his hear- ers would remember it. But there would have been no difficul- ty, had he said ; I shall prove the duty of implicit acquiescence in the allotments of God, first, from his authority over us ; sec- ondly, from the blessings he confers upon us ; and thirdly, from ou rjinal account." As this principle is of elementary importance, and is constant- ly violated in the pulpit, I will add, that conciseness in the form 128 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. of heads, depends on such a relation of parts, as to dispense with the greatest number of words, by ellipsis ; and especially to dis- pense with all ornament or explanation in the head itself. Take as an illustration the following plan, on the subject of regeneration. — First, I shall consider in what this change con- sists, or what is its nature. • Secondly, show that wherever it takes place, it is produced, not by the efficacy of means, but by the influence of the Holy Spirit. And thirdly, exhibit evidence, that wherever this change is produced by the Holy Spirit, it is fol- lowed by the fruits of holiness, or a life of obedience." See how this drapery of words is dismissed by the aid of ellipsis, suspending all the heads on one connecting term; thus, "In dis- cussing regeneration, I shall consider, 1. Its nature. 2. Its Author. And 3. Its fruits." Reybaz says, — " A clear division is the handle of a vase ; in the taking hold of which, every thing it contains, goes with it. But if it has no handle, its contents are lost to us." Of this clear division, we have an example in the six particulars of Fath- er Bernard, on the text, " The Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout ; " &c. " (^uis veniatl — Unde ? — • Q«o ? — Q^uandol — (^uomodol — Ad quidV^ On this point I will only add two examples, from a late English preacher ; * so brief and clear, that a hearer might repeat them mentally, several times, without losing more than one sentence of the ser- mon. The first is on the repentance of Judas, which is shewn to differ ft-om true repentance in four respects ; "Its origin; — Its object ; — Its extent ; and its result.^' The next is " On the wrath to come," with five heads. — " It is divine wrath ; — Deserved wrath ; — Unmingled wrath : — Accumulated wrath ; — Eternal wrath." Bradley.* •I LECTURE XI. ARGUMENT IN SERMONS. Having stated some of the general principles which should govern the preacher in the choice and exposition of his text, — the annunciation and the division of his subject; I am now to consider the sources and mles of argument, which fall under the head of discussion. I am aware that many subjects must be introduced into the pulpit, which do not admit of what may strictly be called reasoning. I am aware too, that in the Christian community, an opinion is cherished by many, and is countenanced by the example of some popular preachers, that reasoning is never ap- propriate to the business of the pulpit. The secular orator, it is said, speaks to men of cultivated minds, who can comprehend a train of discussion ; but to plain, unlettered men, such as the preacher addresses, every thing in the form of argument is dry, and uninteresting. Certainly plain men are not logicians, but it does not follow that they are incapable of reasoning. Even children, in their own department of knowledge, draw conclu- sions from premises, as well as the philosopher in his. This ten- dency of the human mind, which appears in its earliest opera- tions, ought to be cherished. Persuasion and action ought to 17 130 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. depend on conviction, and conviction on proof. To substitute declamation for reasoning in the pulpit, is to give the preacher a loose and desultory habit of thinking. In this way too, no stability of religious character can be produced in hearers, ex- cept through implicit faith, and blind prejudice. The preacher who always declaims, from the supposition that his hearers are unable to comprehend argument, gives the whole influence of his labors, and of his own example, against the use of their rea- soning powers, in religion. He takes the direct way to make them bigots, on the one hand, or on the other children, liable to be " tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine." Wherever such preaching prevails, for a period long enough to produce its genuine influence, that influence is cer- tainly unfavorable to manly discrimination, and strength in Christian attainments. The question, then, needs not to be dis- cussed, whether, in its proper place, argument should be em- ployed in sermons, but in what manner should it be employed ? This will lead us to consider two things, the sources of argu- ment, and the principles on which it is to he conducted. My object in these remarks does not require me to confirm or to controvert the doctrines of modern writers on pneumatology and moral philosophy, nor to notice them at all, in addressing those who are already conversant with these ^^Titers. My sim- ple business is, to inquire in what way religious truths may best be vindicated and enfoi'ced by argument in the pulpit. The laws of intellectual philosophy indeed arc directly auxiliary to this end. Even the study of geometry has its important uses to the preacher, as it gives him discipline of thought, and precis- ion of language. Much of the controversy, which has distracted the church, would have been prevented, had theologians em- ployed the same care in selecting and defining their terms, whicli has rendered mathematical reasoning so perspicuous, and so powerful an instrument of conviction. But is mathematical reasoning, as well as moral, appropriate to the pulpit ? I an- swer, no. Demonstration, in the exact use of the word, be- longs only to the science of abstract quantities ; and it would be AKGUMENT. 1 ,'3 I »o more absurd to mingle tropes with terms of geometry, iliau 10 apply a mathematical ai-gument to a moral truth. Still, it is a vain triumph in which infidelity has sometimes gloried, that re- ligion is a subject which cannot admit of certainty. For in no subject of mere science can our data be more fixed, or our con- clusions more unquestionable, than in religion. Many of our first principles, in theology and morals, have as much clearness of intuitive evidence, as mathematical axioms ; and we rest in our deductions \vith all the confidence that attends the most per- fect demonstration, v But while it is only moral evidence that can be employed in preachmg, this evidence arises from different sources, each of which is more or less applicable, on different occasions. The immediate end of reasoning is to produce conviction ; and this is to be effected, in each particular case, by the power of evidence, that is adapted to that case. Sources of Argument. The first and chief source of that evidence ivhich is to be em- ployed, in the pulpit, is the Bible. In respect to an important class of subjects, no other evidence can be relied on. What we know for example, respecting the Trinity, the incarnation and atonement of Christ, and justification by faith ; we know only from the sacred oracles. The simple and only inquiry on such subjects is, what does the Bible teach. And just so far as we rely on the speculations of philosophy, where the truth lies beyond the research of reason, the light of heaven ceases to shine on our path, and we grope in darkness. A want of strict adherence to this obvious principle, has been the prolific occa- sion of heresy and controversy, in all ages. But while on sub- jects of this sort, the Bible is the sole standard of faith and of du- ty, our reason is of course to be employed in ascertaining what the Bible teaches ; and also in illustrating and applying to a par- ticular- subject, the proof which it furnishes. This is what Paul meant by " reasoning out of the scriptures." It is so to class 132 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. and exhibit our proof, as to show distinctly that God has de- clared as truth, or enjoined as duty, some particular thing. Now this mode of reasoning, if I mistake not, as it is too com- monly found in sermons, is not sufBciently explicit and direct. In a case where the preacher does not doubt that the ultimate appeal is exclusively to the Bible, often a fastidious delicacy, or a perverted taste, prevents him from giving 'prominence to the divine testimony. He thrusts forward his proof texts, per-r haps in a random and unskilful way, without proper regard to their bearing on each other, or the end in view. Or, on the other hand, he may assume the fine rhetorician, and shape the declarations of the Bible into such a subserviency to the easy flow of his own style, that the proof is diluted and humanized in his hands, and leaves no strong impression on the minds of the hearers, that " thus hath the Lord spoken." Illustrations of this great defect might easily be given from the published dis- courses of many who are called elegant or ■polite preachers. The sermons of Edwards, on the contrary, furnish an excellent example of simple and direct reasoning from the scriptures. His style, indeed, has many faults, and his formality in naming chapter and verse, when texts are cited, is a needless incum- brance, except in strict argument, when some difficult topic is in discussion. But though his habits of thought were those of a metaphysician, and though he never appeared as the critical commentator in the pulpit, he was eminently a biblical preacher. So constant was his reference to the scriptures, that it imparted an air of sacredness to his sermons ; and his hearers, like the trembling camp of Israel, at the foot of Sinai, had their eye fixed on the authority and majesty of God, and felt a deep im- pression of awe, as if approaching his judgment seat. On subjects of pure revelation, where the simple point in ar- gument is, " what has God said in this case ; " no interest can be awakened in hearers, so strong or so salutary, as that which arises from scriptural proofs properly conducted. And when the preacher substitutes for these solid materials, the speculations of philosophy, or the embellishments of fancy, the apathy with ARGUMENT. 1 33 which his sermon is commonly regarded by his audience, is but a just rebuke of his self-complacency. There is however a large class of subjects where the proofs to be adduced in reasoning, are of a mixed character, partly fi'oin revelation, and partly from other sources. If I were called to discuss a positive institution of Christiani- ty, as baptism or the Lord's Supper, my first business would be to open the Bible and see what it teaches on this subject. But it might also be proper, and in some circumstances indispensa- ble, for me to adduce collateral evidence from the Fathers, to show that the meaning which I attach to the scriptures, is prob- ably the true one, because it accords with the views of those whose sentiments and practice were derived immediately from the Apostles. So if I were preaching on the obligations of men to worship God, or on the relative duties of parents and children, it would be proper for me to show, that reason inculcates these duties, as well as revelation. But then, in cases of this sort, two extremes should be shunned. One is, the tendency of some men by the phraseology they adopt, so to exalt the reasonable- ness of the Bible, as to make the impression that no implicit faith is ever required in its declarations ; — or, in other words, that the testimony of God does not of itself demand our as- sent, except as confirmed by the testimony of human reason. The other extreme appears in the habit of cautious misgiving, with which some men admit the aid of reason at all, in Christian argumentation, lest they should invalidate, while they profess- edly confirm the authority of the Bible. But while the decla- rations of this sacred book are independently and perfectly de- cisive, where they apply, to enforce them by arguments from reason, where these also are applicable, is to treat them with honor, not with disrespect. This holds true in practical illus- tration and commentary, as well as proof. For example ; I examine the character which Paul gives of the heathen world, in the first chapter of Romans. If I undertake to show that the same character belongs to the heathen non\ my argument must bo taken from human testimony. So if I take a ])assage, 131 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. ill which the doctrine of native depravity is asserted, concern- ing an individual, or a community, and I undertake to show that the sacred writer intended also to assert the same doctrine, as applicable to all men, my argument must proceed according to the laws of biblical interpretation. But if my object is merely to show that this doctrine is true in reference to all men, it be- comes a question of fact, as well as of scripture ; and may be proved, like any other point of this sort, by experience and tes- timony. I have extended these remarks sufficiently to express my mean- ing, that the Bible is the grand store-house of argument to the preacher, and yet that he must resort to other kinds of proof. Among these collateral sources of evidence, that which I tvould raiik as second to revelation, is consciousness. The distinction between this and conscience is, that the former res- pects generally the knowledge which every one has of the ex- istence and operations of his own mind ; the latter respects only its moral operations. This is a kind of evidence, which com- mands absolute assent, and that by an immediate appeal to our own bosom. In this way I know that there is a thinking exist- ence within me, that perceives, loves, and hates. I know when I am hungry, or in pain. From this principle, acting w^ith memory, I know that I began to exist ; and that I am the same individual as I was yesterday. I know that I deserve blame, if I have done to another what it would have been wrong in him to do towards myself; and that I am innocent, though I may have done him an injury, which proceeded from no wrong intention in me, or which it was not in my power to avoid. Such elementary principles, from which no one can dissent, are of great value in enforcing many truths and duties of reli- gion ; — especially in the removal of perplexities, arising from abstmse speculations. A metaphysician may proceed with a train of reasoning, which looks fair and incontrovertible, till he brings out tlie conclusion, that men are machines, acting under ARGUMENT. 1-35 a law of physical necessity ; and therefore not accountable for their actions. But any plain man, while he cannot show where the fallacy lies in this reasoning, nnay boldly pronounce the con- clusion false. It contradicts his own consciousness. He knows that he is not a machine, but a voluntary, accountable agent. The faithful preacher, who presses truth on the conscience, will often find some fastidious objector, or some anxious sinner, resorting to refuges, which a vain philosophy has invented, to escape tlie charge of personal guilt. There is no way in whicii the pungent application of divine truth is so likely to be parried, by the self-excusing temper of the human heart, as by some ob- jection predicated on a denial that men possess the powers of moral agency. Such objections may be met with the light of demonstration from the scriptures, and yet they are renewed with unyielding pertinacity. But let the appeal be made at once to the consciousness of the hearer, whether he is not a free agent, and his objections are not refuted merely, they are effectually silenced in a moment. A third very ample source of evidence, is that to which wri- ters on intellectual philosophy have given the name q/" common SENSE. This relates to things which do not come within the province of consciQUsness, but which are so plain to every reasonable mind, that they cannot be questioned. For example, proposi- tions such as these ; " It is impossible that a thing should be and not be, at the same time." " Every effect must have a cause." " Things which I see do exist," strike the mind with the clearness of intuition. They are accounted self-evident, as not admitting of proof, on the one hand, or of doubt, on the other. While it appertains to the process of reason, to draw conclusions from such premises, it is the province of common sense to judge of these conclusions. Should a speculating vis- ionary lay down axioms, from which he should fancy himself to prove, that all the present modes of travelling will become ob- solete ; that men will soon navigate the interior of the earth with sails and oars, or traverse the air with wings, any man, 136 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. without claiming to be a philosopher, might smile at the con- clusion, and on the authority of common sense, pronounce it ridiculous. Now to show how this sort of evidence may be applied in the pulpit, it is sufficient to show, by an example, how it has been applied. Archbishop Tillotson, in refuting the absui'd hypo- thesis, that the world sprung from chance, proceeds thus ; " Will chance fit means to ends, and that in ten thousand instances, and not fail in one? How often might a man, after he had jumbled a set of letters in a bag, fling them out upon the ground, before they would fall into an exact poem ? — yea, or so much as make a good discourse in prose ? And may not a little book be as easily made, as this great vol- ume of the world ? How long might one sprinkle colours upon canvass, with a careless hand, before they would make the ex- act picture of a man ? And is a man easier to be made by chance, than his picture ? How long might twenty thousand blind men, who should be sent out from the remote parts of England, wander up and down, before they would all meet up- on Salisbury plains, and fall into rank and file, in the exact or- der of an army ? And yet this is much more easy to be im- agined, than how the innumerable blind parts of matter, should rendezvous themselves into a world. A man who sees Henry the seventh's chapel at Westminster, might with as good rea- son maintain, yea, and much better, considering the vast differ- ence between that little structure and the huge fabric of the world, that it was never contrived or built by any man ; but that the stones did by chance grow into those curious figures, in- to which we see them to have been cut and graven ; and that the materials of that building, the stone, mortar, timber, iron, lead, and glass, happily met together, and ranged themselves into that delicate order in which we see them now, so closely com- pacted, that it must be a very great chance that parts them again. What would the world think of a man that should ad- vance such an opinion as this, and write a book for it ? If they would do him right, they ought to look upon him as mad. ARGUMENT, 137 But yet he might maintain this opinion, with a Httle more rea- son, than any man can have to say, that the world was made by chance, or that the first men grew out of the earth, as plants do now."* Here is no process of mathematical demonstration, to refute the atheistical sentiment, that matter is eternal ; and that this world assumed its present order and beauty without the agency of an intelligent Creator. But if such demonstration had been adapted to the subject and the hearers, in this case, who does not feel that it would have been far less convincing than this skilful appeal to common sense ? Such an appeal is felt at once, in all its power. Without that steady application of thought, which abstruse reasoning demands, without any effort indeed, even to uncultivated minds, conviction finds its own way to the understanding, like light to the eye. Hence this sort of evidence is peculiarly valuable to the preacher, in repelling sophistry, and in answering objections, that cannot be effectual- ly met in any other way. Such are the cavils with which infi- delity has often assailed Christian doctrines, especially as cloth- ed in the obscure terms of scholastic theology. oAnd such are the doubts with which anxious sinners are distressed, in seasons of revival. Every one, who has had experience in the minis- try, knows how deeply such perplexities take hold on common, minds ; and how difficult it is to obviate them in the best man- ner. For example, the doctrine of strict imputation of Adam's sin, as it has been often represented, seems to such minds, and with good reason, to be plainly inconsistent with the principles of just moral government. It is an axiom of common sense, that no one is criminal for an action committed before he was born, or commhted, in any case, by another man. Of course, no argument, however specious, can convince a man that he is to be blamed for what Adam did, six thousand years ago, and on the other side of the globe. But tell him that, as one of a fallen race, descended from Adam, he is accountable for his oaviv * Tillotson's Sermons Vol. I. j). 31. See also Vol. II. p. 50. 18 138 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. sins, and he sees nothing unreasonable in the statement. And though the force of prejudice may have led him blindly to say, " I have indeed a sinful heart, but it is one with which I was born, and which my Creator designed me to possess, and there- fore it is not my fault ;" appeal to his common sense, and he sees how futile is this objection. He knows that he would not allow the weight of a feather to such an apology, fi*om the man who had assaulted his person, or robbed him of his property. He knows that no father excuses a stubborn son, because he has been stubborn from his infancy ; and that no court of justice deems a hardened transgressor guiltless, because he has always had an evil heart. The same remarks apply to what divines have called the doctrine of inahiJitij. Tell impenitent sinners that they have no sort of power to repent, while in the same breath you exhort them to repentance, on pain of eternal mis- ery, and if they have capacity enough to understand your mean- ing, they pronounce it utterly absurd. Give them what you call conclusive arguments, from scripture, and fi'om metaphysics ; they may be confounded perhaps, but not convinced. And why should it be strange if they feel indignant, when gravely addressed, on the most weighty of all subjects, in a strain that would be mockery and nonsense, if applied to any human con- cern besides reheion ? LECTURE XIT. ARGUMENT IN SERMONS. There is a fourth source of evidence, namely, the evidence OF FACTS, which is more or less mingled with all the foregoing ; and tvhich includes also the evidence of experience, testimony, and authority. It is a general law of both the material and in- tellectual worlds, that like causes will produce like effects, or that the future will resemble the past. This law is the sole ba- sis of physical and of political science. Hence we know that, in all ages and countries, rivers will flow downwards, fire will bum, and poison destroy. And hence we know too, how men will feel and act under given circumstances. If there were no uniformity in the operations of mind, no system of government could be framed for any community ; nor could social relations exist, in any neighborhood or family. The same regularity re- sulting from settled principles in the divine government, and in human agency, gives a fixed character to wliat we call Christian experience. On this ground we may expect with certainty, wherever we find unsanctified, human beings, to find them with selfish and depraved hearts ; and wherever we find those who are sanctified by divine grace, to see them possess affections es- sentially the same as have distinguished pious men, in all ages. 140 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. I need not spend time in applying these principles to the work of the preacher. He must be very unskilful not to know, that some parts of almost every subject, to be discussed in the pulpit, admit of confimiation or illustration (mm facts ; and that this kind of reasoning, where it does apply, is precisely that by which men choose to be addressed, and are predisposed to be convinced. Other things being equal he -\.ill have most power over an assembly, whose mind is best stored with facts, espe- cially scriptural facts, and who best knows how to apply them with effect. Testimony, as I have already said, in treating of scriptural ev- idence, is a kind of proof that must be employed in sermons ; but it is liable to great abuse. The extent to which some have carried appeals to ecclesiastical history, on certain points of sec- tarian controversy, such as the subject and mode of baptism, is certainly undesirable, if not totally inadmissible in the pulpit. In these remarks I include also, the evidence of authority. The spirit of this age indeed, is not more disposed to bow to popes and fathers, than to the mystic trifling of scholastic theol- ogy, or the categories of Aristotle. The law of conscience will never again be sought in canons of the church ; nor the mle of faith, in the opinions of men, who, whatever else they have left doubtful, have demonstrated their own fallibility, by often contradicting one another, and themselves, and the Bible. The abuse of authority in reasoning, is strikingly exhibited in the ^' Oral Law,'' or traditions of the Jews, which they sup- posed God to have delivered to Moses on Mount Sinai, though never committed to writing. By these traditions, a great many ceremonies and authoritative maxims, were handed down, as of sacred obligation, among that people, though some of them di- rectly contradicted the written Law of God ; and were con- demned with great severity by Christ, in his sermon on the Mount. Hence when the Pharisees complainingly said to Christ, " Why do thy disciples transgress the tradition of the Elders ?" he replied in the solemn rebuke, " Why do ye trans- gress the commandment of God by your tradition ? " ARGUMENT. 141 The Romish cliurch too, as every reader of history knows, has for ao;es framed to itself a set of traditions, by which the au- thority of the fathers is avowedly made to supersede that of the Bible. But there is another extreme. The blindest bigotry is not more blind, than the narrow and boastful prejudice, that discards all respect for received opinions. This is to discard experience and testimony, and indeed all the laws of evidence, by which human opinions are governed. Say what he will of authority, no man is free from its influence, or can be without renouncing his reason. It has its weight even in matters of science. Who would not presume a demonstration to be correct, if he knew that it had often passed under the scrutiny and sanction of New- ton, and had been re-examined and pronounced faultless by the ablest mathematicians to this day? Who does not feel, in any case, more reliance on the judgment of a wise man, than on that of one who is ignorant or weak ? The power over the minds of others, ascribed to the Nestor of Homer, and the Mentor of Telemachus, is a just character in poetry, solely because it ac- cords with philosophy and experience. Precisely for the same reason, a general coincidence of sentiment, especially among wise men, if that coincidence is not explained away by the force of some obvious, countervailing principle, always furnishes a high, presumptive evidence that the thing beheved is tme. Preserving to every one then, the right of independent judg- ment, that judgment still to be rational, must accord with evi- dence ; including the evidence of facts, as it appears in experi- ence and testimony ; otherwise no faith can be reposed in his- tory, and no step can be taken in the common affairs of life. He who would be more independent than this, must pass for the same sort of philosopher with him who should act on the per- suasion that iron will swim in water, or that a man may leap from a precipice without harm. The practical bearing of my remarks on authority, is briefly this. If the disciples of the Koran, should generally affirm some particular doctrine to be taught in that book, though I had 142 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. never seen it, I should believe the fact without examination, un- less I could see some strong reason for calling it in question. On the same ground, a reasonable man, though he had never seen the Bible, would believe that it teaches a doctrine, which nine tenths of those who have read it, agree in affirming that it does teach. The dissent of the other tenth would not hinder this conclusion, especially if he could explain this dissent by the influence of some strong and obvious prejudice. The estab- lished laws of evidence, for example, would require such a man to believe that the Bible teaches the Unity of God, and forbids malice and murder. And on the same evidence he must be satisfied that it teaches the atonement of Christ, and the kin- dred doctrines of grace. Accordingly I have said in a former lecture, that the coincidence which we see in the confessions of faith, drawn up by evangelical churches, in different ages and countries, and professedly grounded on the Bible, would be an absolute miracle, on the supposition that these doctrines are not contained in the Bible. Hence it has always been deemed good collateral reasoning in support of any doctrinal opinion, to show that this opinion has been entertained by the greatest and best men. In sermons, I know this sort of reasoning is but of secondary importance ; but there are occasions when it may be applied with great effect. RULES OF ARGUMENT. We proceed to consider the principles, according to which, reasoning in the pulpit should be conducted. No one will understand me to intimate, that any artificial process can confer on a man the power of caiTying conviction to the minds of others. This must depend primarily, on the strength of his invention ; the clearness of his perceptions ; the accuracy with which he combines things that are analogous, and separates things that differ ; and the precision and energy with which he employs language, to express his thoughts. RULES OF ARGUMENT. 143 Technical logic can no more make a reasoner, than technical rhetoric can make an orator. Still, both reasoning and elocu- tion, must conform to those principles, which genius has pre- scribed to its own operations. These principles are substantial- ly the same in sermons, as in any other department of public speaking. In conformity with this remark, I here mention the fact, that an eminent lawyer and jiidge of my acquaintance, whose son, after a public education, was destined to the bar, requested a preacher, who possessed great strength in argumen- tation, to take charge of the young gentleman, and endeavor to teach him that skill in reasoning, by which the preacher himself was distinguished. As argument in sermons must depend primarily on e\idence drawn from revelation, we may begin with the principles to be observed, in regard to proofs derived from the Bible. Impor- tant as these are to every preacher, yet to those w'ho have en- joyed the advantages of this Seminary, they may be suggested in the form of hints, rather than of extended discussion. First ; The unperverted meaning of the bible, must clearhj support the point to be proved. All protestants unhesitatingly admit, that our faith is to be confonned to the Bible, and not the Bible to our faith. Yet this plain principle is often violated, even among good men, by un- warrantable liberties of straining the word of God, into a sense corresponding vrith opinions v.hich have been formed independent of its authority. In all cases, some allowance is to be made for innocent mistake, resulting from the imperfection of human knowledge. The heedless darings of ignorance and empiricism, in interpreting the Bible, must not be encouraged by any indul- gence of our charity on the one hand, and on the other, will not be restrained by any severities of our animadversion. But beyond this, there lies a fault on men of piety, and conscience, and learning, which ought to be, and may be corrected. Such a man is not warranted, carelessly and without'examination, to ad- , pare rage to a storm, and benevolence to the gentle zephyr, we speak a language perfectly simple and significant, and much more energetic, than when we employ mere words, which are totally unmeaning, except as arbitrary signs. In this manner we transfer the attributes of mind to matter, or of matter to mind ; — we speak of a broken heart, — a load of sorrow, a proud monument. Does any one doubt the utility of employ- ing, in the service of God, this language, which is only a mode of analogical reasoning ? Let him tell why God has made men so, that they speak and feel this language, rather than any other. Let him tell why God himself speaks and reasons in this man- ner, in the Bible. The parable of the sower, — of the barren fig tree, — of the wise and the foolish virgins, — to name no more examples, are beautiful and powerful specimens of ana- 152 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. logical reasoning. The preacher then, will generally succeed best in discussion, whose arguments are arrows, pointed with truth, and sped to their mark by a lively and fervid illustration. But I cannot enlarge on the advantages of the rhetorical, over the abstract mode of reasoning. j4. fourth rule is, that arguments should not be too many. In probable reasoning it is indeed true, as Reid has said, that we must rely upon the combined force of different arguments, which lead to the same conclusion. Such evidence may be compared to a rope, made up of many slender filaments, twisted together. The rope has strength to bear the stress, though no one of the filaments would be sufficient for this purpose. But the analogy holds only to a certain extent, beyond w^hich the parts added to argument produce weakness. The maxims of ancient criticism, " Ne quid niniis ;" and " Omne supervaccuum pleno de pectore manat," — -are founded in good sense. A plain hearer, who listens to a rapid succession of various proofs, es- pecially if they are novel and incongruous, is much in the con- dition of a rustic stranger, who is hurried through the streets of a crowded city, where a thousand objects strike his eye, not one of which leaves any distinct and permanent impression on his mind. Or to change the illustration, the preacher often needs the same caution v/hich was given to the Hebrew Captain, when going with a modey assemblage of soldiers to attack Midian and Amalek, " The people are ^oo many." Cicero said, " Argu- ments should be iveighed, rather than numbered^ It is certain that the preacher has misjudged, as to the number of his topics, or as to the proper treatment of them, when the sermon he de- livers, is long enough for two. A FIFTH rule is, that the order of arguments shoulb be SUCH AS TO GIVE THEM THE GREATEST EFFECT. The principle of arrangement, by which the rhetorical art, like the military, assigns the first rank to the beginning, and the second to the close, demands so much regard at least, as to keep us from attenuating our concluding topics, till they become feeble and tedious. In some respects too, the order of argu- RULES OF ARHUMENT. 153 ments in sermons, must be influenced by the sources whence they are drawn. Our strongest proof in general is taken from the Bible ; but when this is minirled with a series of other proofs, there is a valid objection to placing it first. I know it is common in preaching, to prove a point from the word of God and then add arguments from experience, or consciousness, or some other source. But to my mind there is at least an appar- ent disrespect to the declarations of God, when we adduce these as proof of a point, arid then proceed, by arguments of a differ- ent kind, to corroborate this proof, as though it were not of itself decisive. In general, when such arguments are inde- pendent of scriptural authority, they should be arranged not after but before it. When they are adduced to ansioer objec- tions against the scriptural proof, or to render its meaning more clear and impressive, they must of course follow it in order. There are' many cases in which prejudice and waywardness give only a reserved, doubting assent to proof from the Bible. For example ; suppose you have established, by an ample list of texts, the doctrine of God's eternal purposes. At the close of this proof, you may easily conceive the mind of some hear- er, to be in a state so skeptical, as virtually if not avowdly to reject the Bible, rather than admit this doctrine. It is proper then to go on, and show this hearer, that, even in a step, so desperate, he can find no relief, unless he will reject reason too ; for that the doctrine of eternal purposes belongs to natu- ral, as well as revealed religion ; — being inseparable from the acknowledgement of an intelligent, and immutable God ; and, tlierefore, that it can be denied only by an Atheist. So, if the proposition to be proved is, " that men are account- able for their religious opinions," — direct testimony from the Bible may properly take the lead in your argmnent ; but be- cause this testimony is received with only a hesitating assent, by men of lax speculations, these men should be made to see that experience and common sense, equally with revelation, teach the criminality of essential error, in religious opinion ; 30 154 STRUCTURE OF f-ERMOXS. since they most clearly teach, that the heart is the moral man, and that obliquity of heart perverts the understanding. The amount of my meaning is, that when collateral argu- ments, are drawn from different sources, and when the subject is such, that proofs from the Bible will be received with a de- cisive authority, undiminished by the influence of prejudice, to arrange these proofs last in the series, is most consistent with rhetorical order, and with due respect for the sacred oracles. In some cases we may hesitate between two places, in either of which a particular topic may be introduced. For example ; if the proposition I am discussing is, that the human heart is natu- rally destitute of holiness, it is pertinent to introduce among my proofs, the doctrine of regeneration ; because the necessity of this change implies the previous destitution of holiness. But it is equally proper, and often more so, as to practical effect, to set this topic by, for the close, to be introduced as an infer- ence. In general, when there is any fixed principle of relation mn- ning through different topics, such as order of time, or of cause and effect, that order must be observed. Common minds fol- low a speaker with pleasure, if he leads them in an easy train of thought, so that they see the connexion of things. But if he passes, by fits and leaps, from one point to another, these detached parts of his discourse produce nothing of that concen- trated impression, which results from continuous and connected reasoning. These suggestions I need not extend, as they co- incide with remarks already made on unity, and on division in sermons. The frequent practice of opening a discussion by a set of negative considerations, in my opinion is not expedient, except when some disputed truth is to be guarded against mistake. IjQ general, we show sufficiently what a thing is not, by showing clearly what it is. Still the negative form of argument, at the beginning of a semaon, in particular subjects, is the best way of obviating difficulties. One of the most instructive preachers whom I have known, in discoursing on the text, " Vengeance RULES OF ARGUMKNT. 155 is mine &,c," made this his proposition ; " God will punish the wicked." Instead of answering objections at the close of his discussion, in the common way, he met them at the thresliold, in three negative particulars, viz. " We must not suppose that God will fail to punish the wicked, either first, on account of his goodness ; nor secondly, on account of his having provided an atonement; nor thirdly, on account of his forbearance. Then he proceeded to prove his proposition " that God will punish the wicked, in two ways, from what God has said, and from what he has done. The antithetic form of reasoning is attended with difficulties, as it is often carried on in pairs of contrasted particulars, through a sermon. This is a task which few are able to sustain. For this reason I think Bishop Taylor's method on tlie text, " What shall it profit a man" he, where he makes a general contrast of two parts, the value of the world on one side, and the value of the soul on the other, is decidedly preferable to that of Bourda- loue, on the text, " Great is your reward in heaven," — where lie breaks his contrast into parts, by considering the reward of holi- ness as better than that of sin, — because the former is certain, the latter precarious ; — the former great, the latter worthless ; the former eternal, the latter transitory.* In reasoning from Authority, when we quote the views of another, for the confirmation of our own, it should be in his own ivords; and often the mention of his name, when that is known and respected, gives additional weight. When the subject or length of the quotation gives it importance, the habit of noting author and page, in the margin, may save us trouble afterwards. And let me say in passing, that the careless mode, practised by * When I read or hear a sermon, constructed on such a plan, and consisting of antithetic topics, the pairs of which are exliibited in reg- ular succession, it often reminds me, (if so familiar an ilhistration, on so grave a subject, may be pardoned,) of a laborer, attempting to man- age two wheelbarrows, — but compelled to roll one a short distance, and then go back after the other. The process is so laborious and heavy, when the above course is adopted in preaching, that it re- luires no small talent and skill, to render it interesting. 156 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. some good men, of adopting long passages from books, without reference or notice of any sort, if it can be reconciled with in- tegrity, is very indiscreet. Too often for the credit of the min- istry, has this been demonstrated, in posthumous sermons, com- mitted to the press, from a hasty partiality to their deceased au- thors. The SIXTH and last rule I shall mention is, that we should ENDEAVOR TO AVOID A CONTROVERSIAL, STRAIN OF REASONING. The same apostolic precept and example, that require us to contend earnestly for essential truths, require us to avoid all dis- putes that engender strife and mar the spirit of godliness. Points on which good men honestly differ, when discussed in the pul- pit, as they sometimes must be, demand special candour and gentleness. And in general it may be said, that a worse habit can hardly be imagined in a preacher, than that of always' creating to himself an adversary in the pulpit, and assuming on every subject, the air and spirit of a disputant. There are three ways of refuting objections. The first, and when the case admits it, the best, is, to aim only at a full and clear exhibition of the truth. The next is, to interweave objec- tions, and answer them indirectly and without formality. The last is, to state them in form, and refute them by distinct argu- ments. When this last course is adopted, it requires the fol- lowing precautions. 1. State no objections that are too trivial to deserve notice. We may waste our time by refuting what needs no refutation, as well as by proving what needs no proof. 2. If objections are really weighty, never treat them as insig- nificant. Without evasion, without distortion, state them fairly and fully ; — give them all the weight to which they are en- titled. 3. Take care that your answers be complete and decisive, so as not to leave the impression, that you have raised an adversa- ry, whom you have not strength to withstand. 4. State no objections in which your hearers are not interested. Though weighty, and capable of complete refutation, if they RULES OF ARGUMENT. 157 are such as are never likely to be known without your help, it is worse than trifling to discuss them. The physician deserves no praise for his skill in devising an antidote for poison, which his own temerity had administered. What preacher would re- peat the language of obscene and profane men, with a view to condemn it ? No more does Christian propriety allow us to state artful and blasphemous cavils against religion, for the same end. Even when such cavils are decent in manner, they should not be obtruded on common minds, ^\^thout urgent neces- sity. Such minds may understand an objection, and remember it, when the force of a reply is not seen, or is forgotten. It is from the learned labors of Christian advocates for the truth, not from their own investigations, that skeptics have ^" Gleaned their blunted shafts, And shot them at the shield of truth again." 5. Avoid acrimony, as both unchristian and unwise. Meet an objector with ingenuousness and kindness. Take no advan- tage of verbal inadvertence ; nor charge on him consequences, as intentionally admitted by him, which he disavows. 6. Never oppose sects by name. LECTURE XIV. CONCLUSION Of SERMONS. The close of a regular discourse has beea designated by dif- ferent terms. The ancients called it peroration, and required that it should consist of two parts, recapitulation and address to the passions. Supposing an argument to have been so conducted that a brief review of its chief parts, will present them in a strong and concentrated light before the hearers, this prepares them to ad- mit an appeal to their feelings. The practicability of such a re- view as will answer this purpose, depends on the degree of per- spicuous arrangement, which has prevailed in the discourse. The admirable skill with which Cicero wrought up his materi- als, in his defence of Milo, prepared the way for a powerful per- oration. And it A\ill not be deemed out of place, for me to re- fer again to this great pleader, as a pattern of rhetorical method, worthy to be studied by the Christian orator, who wishes his discourse to make a distinct and strong impression on the hear- ers. But supposing a discourse to have been loose and difflise, without any lucid order of thought, all attempts at recapitulation must be worse than useless. In the secular oratory of Athens, CONCIA'SIOX. 159 where direct address to the passions was forbidden by law, re- capitulation was the usual form of conclusion, in which, of courge, much skill was employed to give rhetorical effect. In sacred eloquence, the close of a discourse is sometimes called application ; — sometimes, reflections or inferences ; and sometimes, in this country and in Scotland, though not accord- ing to the best usage, — it is called improvement.* Some preachers are in the habit of intermingling practical re- flections with the different topics discussed, throughout a seniion, instead of bringing these together at the close. There may be cases in which this is the best course. Claude, in his essay, recommends that some texts should be treated in the way of continued application; and gives an example, in a long sermon on the passage, — " Work out your own salvation," &;c. His design is, to give a specimen of that preaching, which is carried on in the strain of direct address. It may perhaps be consid- as a general rule, that, in proportion as a subject is treated ar- gumentatively, and on the principles of strict unity, it demands a regular conclusion ; and when a series of independent points, are discussed, it becomes more proper for the preacher to apply each of these, as he goes on. But if this rule is just, it would seem to follow, that in proportion as the sermon has this miscellaneous character, and admits this running applica- tion, it is the less likely, in general, to produce any single and strong impression on the hearers. As it is proper for us to derive instruction from the example of others, I shall direct your attention to some faults in the con- clusion of sermons, as they appear, both from the press and the pulpit. These, so far as they demand our present notice, may be included in the formal manner, the desultory, and the dry. * The principal, authorized English use of to improve, is to make belter. To make good use of, is another sense in which it has occasion- ally been employed here and in Great Britain, for more than a centu- ry, and yet it cannot be regarded as classical. This occasional use of the word has been more common in sermons, than in other kinds of writing. 160 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. The formal conclusion varies, with the vogue of the pulpit, at different periods. It was more customary than it has been at any other time, after the Reformation ; when scholastic di- visions generally were carried to a great extreme. To what ex- tent this taste prevailed in the English pulpit, may be seen from the sermons of the Puritans, and from Bishop Wilkins' Ecclesi- astes, a book which was, for a considerable time, regarded as a standard work on preaching. The usual mode of concluding a sermon, was by a series of many heads, called uses, subdivided into minor parts. As a specimen of this manner, we may take the eleventh sermon of the pious Flavel, entitled England^ Duty. After more than sixty heads in the body of this sermon, the application begins with a use of information, which is thrown into five inferences. Then comes the use of exhorta- tion, first to believers, including four heads of counsel ; then to unbelievers, including eight minor heads, — the first of these again split into three parts, making twenty-four divisions in the conclusion. A sermon of the same preacher, on the evidences of grace, closes with a use of information, containing nine in- ferences ; a use of exhortation containing six motives ; a use of direction containing ten rules ; the last of these divided into eight meditations ; and a use of examination with thirteen mi- nor heads. In the last place, the preacher says, " It remains that I shut up all, with a use of consolation,^' which contains five parts, making fifty-six divisions, in the conclusion. After the restoration of Charles second, the influence of the court being directed in every possible way to discredit puritan- ism, the fashion of the pulpit was changed in this as in other re- spects. In the English church, since the time of Jeremy Tay- lor and Tillotson, the conclusion of sermons has been much less formal, than before. Still, the scholastic manner has been re- tained by many distinguished preachers of the past age, and the present. The sermon of President Edwards, entitled " Men God's Enemies," has six inferences, under which are sixteen primary and secondary subdivisions. His sermon on " The jus- tice of God in the Damnation of sinners," enters on the appli- CONCLUSION. 16] cation with two divisions, the second of which branches into four subdivisions. These four branch out again into thirteen di- visions of the third degree of affinity, six of the fourth, two of the fifth, two of the sixth, and two of tlie seventh, — in all thirty-one. Perhaps no preacher of our day, goes to this extreme. Yet a rigid formahty runs through the applications of some men, so that whatever be the subject or occasion, the same round of par- ticulars, in the same phraseology is to be expected. The desultory conclusion, may arise either from affextation ov barrenness in the preacher. In the former case, the fault is commonly the opposite of that just described. A succession of rambling, incoherent remarks, is adopted, from a false taste, which would shun at all events, the imputation of form- ality. When this loose manner is occasioned by sterility of thought, it is commonly because the preacher, having worked up his materials, and yet feeling it necessary to proceed, falls into a strain of indefinite remark, or exhortation. Whether he does this, from absolute want of matter, or partly from want of method, or both, the attention of intelligent hearers is certainly lost, the moment they perceive him to be merely filling up the time with observations, which have no important relation to each other, or to the subject. Augustine in his precepts on preaching, says, " When it is manifest that the audience under- stand what is said, the speaker should close his discourse, or pass on to other topics. As that orator awakens interest, who removes obscurity from what is to be made known ; so he is tedious, who dilates and repeats things that are known." An application may be rich, instructive, and powerful in impression though very formal in its parts ; as any one may sec in the ser- mons of Edwards. But that vacuity of thought, of which I am speaking, is necessarily void of interest. Be the number or order of parts what they may, call them inferences, reflections, or any other name, if they are of that general cast, that might as well be attached to another subject as to the one in hand, the character of barrenness runs through the whole. All amplifi- cation, in such a case, is the mere turning over of trite remarks, 21 162 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. wliich had constituted the body of the sermon. So straitened is this sort of preacher in his resources, that he often makes the same thing stand as.an inference, which had before stood as his main proposition, or one of his chief heads. The dry conckision, as I shall call it for want of a better term, consists not so much in tame and hackneyed thoughts, nor in technical arrangement, as in a naked, inanimate outline of particulars, simply stated perhaps, as results from the subject discussed. Tliese, though they may be just, and such as a warm-hearted, skilful preacher might amplify, so as to produce a vivid impression on the hearers ; awaken no lively interest, because they are only mcmioneil, with the same frigid brevity, as his corollaries are stated, by a mathematical lecturer. We proceed now to consider in what consists the excellence of a conclusion ; it being understood, as pre-requisite, in all cases, that the subject of discourse be important, and such as admits an interesting application. To succeed in this part of his work, the preaclier should, 1. Aim at practical effect. The very institution of the Christian ministry, supposes that the great purpose of revealed religion, is to promote the reformation and salvation of men. In this view, only, is all scripture profitable, that " the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished to every good work." All that gives value to knowledge, and to correctness of belief, is their tendency to sanctify the heart and life. On this princi- ple Christ proceeded in his preaching. On the same principle, the Apostles proceeded ; and by this standard, the worth of ev- ery sermon is to be estimated. Just so far as it is adapted to make the hearers feel the power, and cherish the spirit, and obey the precepts of the gospel, it is u'hat a Christian sermon should be. And that sermon which does not reach the hearers as individuals, wliich is not felt to bear distinctly on their igno- rance, or error, or moral defects, as individuals, answers no good end whatever. But no such effect will be produced un- less it is the preacher's design, that his sermon shall bear in this manner. If he studiously avoids making a close applica- coNCLUsinx. 163 tion of the truth, no close application of it will be made. If lie does not mean to press the conscience, most certainly he Vvill not press the conscience. Paul doubtless intended, when he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come," to make just that impression on Felix, which he did make. Peter intended that his hearers on the day of Pentecost, should be " pricked in their hearts ? " — Stephen intended that his hear- ers should be " cut to the heart." And just so any preacher, before he can make his hearers feel deeply, must intend to make them feel. '2. He should understand the principles of the hu- man MIND. The aid of this knowledge in applying tRith, is most important. In the moral world, as well as the physical, like causes produce like effects. We can never calculate with certainty on any end to be attained, unless we know tlie princi- ples to be operated on, and the means to be applied, for the at- tainment of that end. But the laws of mind are as settled, as uniform, as easily applied to practical purposes, as the laws of matter. In either case, the principles most important in real life, are not such as demand skill in the abstract, and profound researches of science, but such as are obvious to the eye of com- mon sense. It was great accuracy of judgment, grounded on a thorough knowledge of history, and a careful analysis of intellec- tual and moral causes, operating at the time, — which enabled a distinguished British statesman of the last century, to foretell, with almost prophetic exactness, the results of the French revo- lution. It is according to laws which govern intellectual operations, and only according to these, that we explain the power of one mind to act upon another. Why have modern ages united in a tribute of admiration to the genius of Shakspeare. How is it that in his Julius Caesar, every man feels the hand of the poet, searching his own bosom ? How is it that in Othello, we are alternately melted to tears, thrilled with surprise, and racked with horror ? One single thing accounts for this magic power of the dramatist ; he had studied the human heart. He knew 164 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. infallibly how to direct the movements of his hand ; he knew how and when to touch any string, as he intended, and what note it would respond. Surely the principles on which this power depends, lie equal- ly open to the eye of the preacher, as of the poet ; and if they are important to be applied, where the chief object is amuse- ment, how much more so, where the immortal interests of men are concerned. Light, reflected from a mirror, resembles the truth, as exhib- ited in the Bible. Though that mirror was not made for me in particular, yet if I stand before it, with my eyes open, I see, not a general representation of every thing, but exactly my own image. That mirror may be covered, or placed in the dark, so as to reflect nothing. But if it speaks at all, it speaks truth. I must not look at it, if I would not see my own face ; — nor, if I dislike the image, may I complain of him who made the mirror, nor of him who placed it before me. In applying truth to the conscience, however, there is a dif- ference between personality and individuality. That special designation of men by name, which was practised by the pro- phets, and Christ, is not proper for any one, possessing no more than the authority or knowledge of an uninspired teacher. Nor is it generally safe, in our preparations for the pulpit, to trust our- selves in a specific aim at individuals ; since the design, to be effectual, must be quite apparent, and since the motive, though it be good in us, (of which by the way we must take care,) is always liable to suspicion and mistake. But the more com- pletely truth is so exhibited, that conscience is compelled to do its own work, in making the application to individuals, the stronger and the better is the impression produced ; — just as ten persons, standing before a portrait painting, are said each to feel a deeper interest iM it, by supposing that it looks at himself. In this case, the preacher may indeed be charged with personality, like the English Curate, who was complained of, for " preach- ing at his hearers," because they often hung down their heads, feeling that he had given an exact description of themselves ; coNCLrsioN. 165 whereas he only delivered to them the very same manuscripts which he prepared for another congregation, before he knew that these individuals were in the world. Whatever there may be undesirable in these feelings, I would not willingly be that })reacher, who never gives such inquietude to his hearers. If the unhappy temperament of some men is such, that they will angrily interpret every thing, as designedly spoken against them, which is adapted to do them good, the preacher surely is not to appease their folly and sin, by neglecting his own duty. But besides this general skill in applying truth, by the agen- cy of conscience, it is often useful, by a classification of hear- ers, to make a direct appeal to their hearts. I select one ex- ample from the Archbishop of Cambray, whose pungency and fire were so deeply impressive, especially in the close of his ser- mons. The address is to careless, nominal Christians. " Who are you, profane men, who laugh when you see a renewed sin- ner following Jesus Christ, and stemming the torrent of all his passions ? What then, you cannot endure that we should de- clare ourselves openly for the God who made us ? With you it is a weakness, to fear his eternal justice. With you it is folly to live by faith, in hope of eternal life. Who then are you that make game of religion, and of the religious ? Do not you believe any religion ? Go then out of our churches ; — go, live with- out Christ, without hope, without God in the world. Go, where your impious and brutal despair would luuTy you. But alas, — you are professed Christians ; you have promised to renounce the world and to take up the cross. You have promised; — you dare not deny it ; you dare not renounce your salvation ; you tremble when approaching death shows you the abyss opening under your feet. Miserable, foolish men ! — you would have us think you wise, while you treat as fools, those who, hoping for benefits which you pretend not to have renounced, labor to ob- tain them." There is a more specific application still, in which each hear- er is set apart, and feels himself to be addressed in the second person singular, as though no one else were present. 1 add a 166 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. brief example of this, from the French pulpit, rebuking the common presumption on long life. " Make the different orders of men pass before your eyes ; — count them one by one, and see what proportion of the whole die before they are thirty years of age. How many die between thirty and forty ! How few arrive at fifty ! How very small is the number of old men ! In a city containing a million of souls, there may be tivo or three thousand ; three hundred perhaps in one hundred thousand ! Now what foolish security is it to presume, at the risk of your salvation, that yourself will be among these f civ exceptions ? Were one to hazard his fortune on such uncertainty, he would pass for a mad- man ; his friends, his wife and children, would pity and confine him. And thou, miserable man, dost thou hazard thy soul, thine eternal happiness on this frivolous hope ? " These exam- ples confine the statement, that to make a direct and powerful application of truth, the preacher must know the human heart. 3. The preacher should so arrange the parts of a ser- mon, that they may tend to a single and combined effect, in the close. On this point, I have enlarged so much under the head of unity, that only a few additional remarks are need- ed here. It is not enough that we aim to make men feel, and that we understand the principles of their minds, if we fail to adapt our discourse to those principles. The sermon that wants plan, will of course want power in the conclusion. An impor- tant thought may lose more than half its weight, by standing in a wrong place, and wrong connexion. The effect of ex- tempore address is often frustrated by the fact, that a few prom- inent things are produced at once, and then are only dilated, and repeated afterwards. With a view to a main design, stead- ily kept in mind, the skilful preacher will arrange his subject throughout, so that each part shall add strength to the whole. The convergent method, when the subject admits it, is pecu- liarly adapted to this purpose. Cicero, as I have before ob- served, when he had a great point to carry, like a general who would break through an opposing line, considered and arranged his means with consummate skill, till at last he brought them CONCLUSION. 167 all to bear down on that point with irresistible effect. Tliere is something in this principle of oratory, analogous to the cur- rent of a great river. It rises in remote mountains, a mere rill ; then it becomes a rivulet ; then a brook ; then by the accession of tributary streams, it swells, and widens, and deepens in its course, till it rolls on a flood of waters to the ocean. But im- agine, if you can, a river diminishing in force as it runs, parting off a rivulet on the right hand, and another on the left, till the main channel is dry ; while each branch becomes less and less till it is lost ; and you have a tolerable representation of a ser- mon, Avhich promises well at first, but diverges into parts, and dwindles as it goes on, till the current of thought is exhausted in a feeble conclusion. Not so, where the powers of the speak- er, the weight of the subject, and the coincidence and continuity of argument and motive, bear on an assembly in the best man- ner. The sermon grows as it proceeds, and carries on the speaker and hearers, with an increasing tide of interest to the last. So much does the skilful preacher know the entire effect of his discourse to depend on the appJication, that instead of filling up this with common place gleanings of thought, the whole performance is adapted to the final impression he wishes to make ; and he is not ready to begin the writing of a sermon, till he has determined how it is to close. In the process of composing indeed, when the inventive powers are sharpened by exercise, he may modify his plan. Some topic, assigned to an earlier head, or some new thought that occurs, may advanta- geously be set aside, that it may become more prominent in the close. I will add under this head, that when a sermon is argumenta- tive, whether doctrinal or practical, it may often be closed with inferences. These should always be scriptural results, from scriptural premises. Neither false deductions, from Christian premises, nor true deductions, from premises not in the Bible deserve any better name than a vain display of ingenuity. But there are several advantages in a conclusion by inferences, when well conducted, and pertinent to the subject. They exhibit 168 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. the truths of rehgion connectedly ; they often exhibit disputed truths, unexiiectedly and undeniably. Where the premises would have been rejected, had the deduction been foreseen, it comes by surprise, and compels assent. And what is most important, as a grand principle in preaching is, that such inferences make men active hearers, and not passive, like hortatory addresses. 4. The success of a conclusion depends much on the warmth, WITH WHICH IT APPEALS TO THE HEART. " To this part," says Quinctilian, " The highest powers of address should be reserved. Here if ever, it is proper to open all the fountains of eloquence. Here^ if we have succeeded in other parts, we may take possession of our hearers' minds. Having weathered the shallows and breakers, we may spread full sail ; and accord- ing to the chief design of a peroration, we may give free scope to magnificence in sentiment and language." To this part of a discourse the best institutes of oratory assign the pathetic; on which, however, my limits here allow only a few suggestions. My first remark is, that all attempts to move the passions will fail, without simplicity in thought and language. The precepts of books on this subject, except a few leading principles, are by far too artificial for the pulpit. The devices by which popular orators of old sought to move their hearers, would be condemned by the taste of this age, as unsuitable in any case, and especially in Christian eloquence. Nor can any mere study of the passions enable a man to reach them with success. There is a power in genius, combined with sensibility, to which the throbbings of the heart respond, but which art can- not imitate nor explain. A second remark is, that not all hinds of emotion, nor even of high emotion, fall under the head of pathetic. Animation, vehemence, or what is often termed fire, produce strong emo- tion, but it is of a different sort. Grand and sublime represen- tations awaken sentiments of awe or admiration, and perhaps overwhelm with their majesty. But the pathetic is distinguish- ed by its gentle, insinuating, melting influence, which silently CONCLUSION. 169 wins upon the heart, and makes it yield itself to the power that so irresistibly, and yet so delightfully, controls its affections. A third remark is, the pathetic cannot he protracted. Strong passion is necessarily short in continuance. " Nothing," says Quinctilian, quoting Cicero, " nothing dries up sooner than tears. The auditor shortly becomes weary of weeping, and relapses into tranquillity. We must not let this work grow cold on our hands, but having wrought up the passions, leave them." Sometimes however, the heart may he touched for a moment, at several successive intervals ; — while at each time, its sensibilities start into action more readily, as it retains the softening influence of past emotion. Whereas, if the same note is sounded too long at once, feeling flags, and dies away into fatigue. A fourth remark is, that, in all addresses to the passions, moral painting is indispensable . The two chief reasons are that the senses are the primary inlet of ideas ; and that remote- ness of objects diminishes their power of impression. Painting annihilates absence and distance, and embodies objects before the eye, as they are seen in life, or on canvass. It thrills the heart, where mere description would leave it cold. From this prin- ciple arises the awful interest, often awakened by the delinea- tions of the Bible ; such, for example, as the transactions of the last judgment. We see the Judge enthroned, — the reti- nue of angels, the books open, the heavens passing away, — the dead small and great, standing before God. We forget inter- vening ages. The scenery is all present ; — we feel ourselves encompassed with the dread realities of that occasion. The painting to the fancy, which belongs to pastoral poetry, has little use in the pathetic of the pulpit. Our business is with the heart, which abjures amplification, and drapery, and embel- lishment. The most moving scence of the pulpit, the death of Christ, is often so overdrawn, with pompous decoration, as to chill the hearers with indifference. Yet a skilful pleader will give life to the exhibition of a common murder. You see the assailant spring from his ambush ; — his victim calling for help. You see the blow given, — the man falling, — hear his groan, — 23 170 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. see his gushing blood, his convulsive agonies in death. It is lamentable that the power which, in poetry and romance, often seizes the heart with resistless grasp, is so seldom brought to bear on the feelings of men, from the pulpit. A fifth remarlc is, that though high powers of execution in the imthetic are wanting to any preacher, this is no reason why he SHOULD BE DULL AND COLD. The most caTcless hearers know too well the weight of our business, to be satisfied when we aim no strokes at the heart. The keen sting of conscience they dread, but the thrill of emotion, they certainly prefer, to the listlessness of indifference. The love of excitement is instinc- tive and universal. Suppose that you lack, what indeed few possess, the power of taking the heart by assault ; yet you must awalccn feeling, especially in the close of your discourse, or you come utterly short of the great end of preaching. A frigid temperament is no excuse in this case. Whose fault is it, that his heart is cold, who speaks on a subject which fills heav- en with emotion ? He has proved a great doctrine of the gos- pel to be true, perhaps by clear argument. What then ? Shall that doctrine be left on the same footing with a mathematical axiom ? Shall the hearers rest in mere assent to its truth, when its truth is the very thing that cuts them off from hope and heaven ? Look on an assembly of immortal beings, sinking down to death, under an accumulation of unpardoned guilt ; think of the unspeakable love and agonies, which procured for them forgiveness ; anticipate your meeting with these same hearers, at the judgment ; and the certainty that each one of them, who dies impenitent, will be an eternal out-cast from God ; and then, if you feel no stirrings of a mighty emotion in your own bosom, where is your compassion for dying men ? Where is your love to Christ ? Talk not of a piety that can offer apology for such a state of heart. Mourn for it rather as your sin. Go to God with that heart, before you bring it to the pulpit, and beg him to make it what the heart of a minister should be. I know, Gentlemen, from experience, something of the magnitude and the difficulties of the work before you. And CONCLUSION. 171 I know too well my own defects, to wish that my example, and not my precepts, should be your guide on this subject. For many years my animal frame has seldom been able to sustain that degree of emotion, which I think is often desirable in the pulpit ; and a sense of duty has required me to restrain those feelings, on which the satisfaction and success of a preacher's la- bors, greatly depend. For whatever is faulty in the share of influence which my official standing and labors may have on you, I expect to give account to God. And I tremble to think that I am called to aid in shaping the character, and the minis- trations, of those whose influence may extend around the globe, and must extend, in consequences of awful moment, beyond the grave. With these consequences in full view, let me say to you, — take care of your heart; shun, with unwavering vigi- lance, whatever tends to deaden your Christian affections ; fix your eye on the great ends of preaching ; cultivate a deep sense of your dependance on God ; and then, in humble reliance on his grace, you will speak, — " in demonstration of the spirit, and with power." LECTURE XV. STYLE OF THE PULPIT. GENERAL REMARKS. FAULTS OF STYLE IN SERMONS. EXCELLENCIES. N. B. [This Lecture and the following, were written as part of a course of lectures on Style. The more general principles of good writing, as discussed in that course, it is the Author's design to re- model, and to publish hereafter, for the use of young preachers.] I come now to offer some remarks on the appropriate style of the pulpit. The opinion that the Christian preacher, when he speaks on religion, must assume a countenance, a tone, and a style, such as are adapted to no other subject, has been greatly prejudicial to the interests of piety. 1. Our Jirst inquiry is, how far may the preacher's style be professional and peculiar. The views which I entertain as to the peculiarity of diction, allowable in sermons, may be express- ed under two general remarks. One is, that religion must have terms, call them technical if you please, but terms appropriate to itself The arts, and the physical sciences require words and phrases, which cannot be used in theology. For the same reason theology must have, to STYLE OP THE PULPIT. 173 a certain extent, its own expressions, adapted to its own pecu- liar subjects. And Christian theology must be distinguished, in this respect, from Mahometan and Pagan systems of religion. If the writers of the New Testament must have been rigidly tied down to classical usage, they could have had no words to express those thoughts which were peculiar to the gospel. Pla- to and Xenophon had no such thoughts ; and the primary, clas- sical import of the words which they employed, could not there- fore express the meaning of Paul, on topics peculiar to the style he must use in preaching the gospel. Strike out from the lan- guage of the pulpit the words, sin, holiness, redeemer, atone- ment, regeneration, grace, covenant , justification, salvation, and others of similar import, and what would become of the distinc- tive character of Christianity ? The preacher in this case, must either not exhibit the truths of the gospel at all, or exhibit them under all the disadvantages of an endless and needless circum- locution. In either case, his ministrations, whatever literary merit they might possess, would have little tendency to instmct and save his hearers. Before he can submit to the requisitions of a taste so perverted, he must have forgotten the sacred digni- ty of his office, as an ambassador of Christ. My other remark is, that, with the above exception, the gen- eral character of style in sermons, should be such as is proper, in discussing any elevated and interesting subject. The reasons are obvious. If we would impress religious truth on the hearts of men, it must be done through the medium of the understanding. We must address them, therefore, in language to which they are accustomed. After the example of our Saviour, we should employ words and figures, which accord with the familiar conceptions of our hearers. By this means too, we may avoid any repul- sive associations, which would otherwise prevent the access of truth to the mind. If he who speaks on religion, assumes the aspect and tones of sadness, he makes the impression on the minds of the irreligious, that piety is inconsistent with cheerful- ness. An effect not less favorable is produced by a correspon- dent peculiarity of language. Besides, a strong and vivid rep- 174 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. resentation of any subject, cannot be made, when the terms em- ployed are inappropriate or indefinite. 2. We are prepared, in the next place, to glance at those pe- culiarities, most common in the style of sermons, which must be accounted foxdts. The theological dialect, as distinguished from what may be called classical style, results in a sonsiderable measure, from a designed unitation of scriptural language. I say imitation, for unquestionably direct quotation from the Bible, is not only ne- cessary, in adducing proofs from this standard of rehgious belief and practice, but is required by good taste, for purposes of illus- tration and impression. Such quotations, if made with judgment, give weight and authority to a sermon. But the defect I am describing, lies in the unskilful amalgamation of sacred with common phraseology. This takes place, sometimes in single words, as peradventure, used for perhaps ; tribulation for ajfliction or distress ; sensuality and carnality, for sinful af- fections ; and edification, for instruction or improvement. So a phrase is often employed in a manner > which requires a com- mentary to give it significance in cufrent language ; as when licentious conduct is called " chambering and wantonness." Sometimes this peculiar cast of style arises from using famil- iar terms, in an abstract or mystical sense, as walk and conver- sation, for actions or deportment. Sometimes a peculiar com- bination of words, makes a sort of spiritual phrase ; as " mind and will of God," — " a sense of divine things ;" and when in- tensive expression is necessary, " a realizing sense of divine things," is extremely common in the pulpit dialect. In some portions of our country, and at some periods, a great fondness has prevailed for compound words, such as " God-provolcing, heaven-offending, Christ-despising, land-defiling. Some of these awkward, anglo-ecclesiastical combinations, have struggled hard for a standing in good style, both here and in Great Brit- ain : such as unspealcableness, worldly-mindedness, spiritual- mindedness. Men of correct taste will a thousand times rather dispense with all the advantages of these terms, than mar their STYLE OF THE PULPIT. 175 native tongue, by multyplying such unseemly compounds. There is the more need of guardinir against such terms, because if they are formed from words which belong to the language, they escape the reproach of barbarism ; and therefore may be multiplied without end, if the tendency of writers to these com- binations, shall be subject to no control but the dictates of ca- price or affectation. The man who has the command of lan- guage, may easily find other words, equivalent in sense, or suf- ficiently so, to substitute for such complex phrases. Instead of worJdly-mindedness, he may say attachment to the world. In- stead of spirit ual-minded7iess, a spirit of devotion, or a spirit of habitual piety. The same general fault in the preacher's style may be in- creased, by his necessary familiarity loith theological ivritcrs of past times. The excellent sentiments which these often contain, expressed perhaps in quaint and antiquated phraseolo- gy, imperceptibly give a cast to his own diction, resembling, in its influence on other minds, the stiffness and peculiarity which would appear in his garb, if it w^ere conformed to the fashion of the sixteenth century. • One more source of the defect I am condemning, deserves to be mentioned ; I mean the influence of the colloquial dialect on the preacher's style. The daily intercourse with common people, which, as a man, and a minister of religion, he is called to maintain, inclines him to adopt, in his public discourses, the lanjiuaore with which he addresses his hearers, and with which they address each other, in ordinary cases. In this way proba- bly, a class of words, some of which are peculiar to this- coun- try, found their way into sermons ; — such as approbate, mis-r sionate, gospelize, variate, happifying, hestowment, bestrustment, engagedness. These words indeed, are much less frequently seen in written discourses, than certain others of the same de- scription, which are as common in English as in American ser- mons, such as preventative, profanity, requirement, and solem- nize, in the sense of make solemn. Having suggested these hints, on the defects of pul- 17G STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. pit Style, I proceed to state some of the chief quahties which it ought to possess. I cannot here advert to general principles, already discussed in my Lectures on Taste and Style. Taking it for granted that perspicuity, strength, and a proper degree of ornament, are essential attributes of all good writing, and there- fore never to be neglected by the preacher, I shall consider cer- tain properties of style, which he is under peculiar obligations to cultivate. The first of these, which I shall mention, is simplicity. This, as I have already observed, is required by the principles of good taste. But it is more to my purpose, at present, to show that it is required of the Christian preacher, by the prin- ciples of religion. He is appointed to instruct men in the way of salvation ; to instruct those, many of whom are ignorant. To instruct them in that gospel, of which it was a remarkable characteristic, at its first publication, " that it was preached to the poor." ' In this respect our Savior was a perfect pattern, — accommodating his instructions to the weak and illiterate, in distinction from the Jewish teachers, and the heathen philoso- phers, who delivered their discourses only to a few select disci- ples.' The simplicity of language which a preacher should adopt, requires him to choose such words as are intelligible to his hearers. I say not that he shall adopt the extravagant princi- ple, sometimes laid down, never to use a word, which is not fa- miliar to every child. This would forbid him to preach at all, on the simplest topics, without such a constant explanation of terms, as would render his discourses tedious and uninteresting, to the greater part of every assembly. But the proper rule of conduct, in this case, lies in a narrow compass. We should take care then never to use a hard word, when a plain one would express our meaning. The sense to be ex- pressed, is the main point, and language is only the vehicle of communication. The affectation which leads a man to sacri- fice the object for which he speaks, to the reputation of being STYLE OF THE PULPIT. 177 an erudite or elegant speaker, is altogether beneath the dignity of the sacred office.* Who would expect " a teacher of babes," to ransack the re- sources of etymology, and to speak of the " lapsed state of man," and the " moral adaptation of things," when his proper business is to discuss the great and simple truths of the gospel, in the plainest manner ? It is a familiar anecdote of the distinguished Prelate, Archbishop Tillotson, that before he delivered his ser- mons, he sometimes read them to an illiterate old lady, of good sense, that by the aid of her remai"ks, he might reduce his style to the level of common capacities. It was quite another kind of men to whom Eachard referred, with some severity, in his book entitled, " Contempt of the Clergy." " There is," said he, " a sort of divines, who, if they do but happen of an unlucky, hard word all the week, think themselves not careful of their flock, if they lay it not up, and bestow it among them, in their next sermon." Another caution to be observed is, that common words should not be used in an uncommon, abstract, or philosophical sense. " I was well acquainted, says Witherspoon, with a divine many years ago, who began a prayer in his congregation, by address- ing Jehovah as the simplest of all beings ;" which incensed his hearers to such a degree, that they accused him of having spoken blasphemy ; whereas the man only meant to say, that God is philosophically simple and uncompounded, altogether different from the grossness and divisibility, or as it is sometimes more learnedly called, the discerptibility of matter." The wresting of a plain word from its common acceptation, to one that is sci- * Witherspoon ridicules this vanity in another profession. " I was acquainted, (says he,) with a physician, who, sitting with a lady in her own house, and being asked by her, ' Doctor, arc artichokes good for children ?' answered, ' Madam, tlicy are the least flatulent of all the esculent tribe.' 'Indeed, doctor,' said the lady, 'I do not understand a word of what you have said.' " But if common sense condemns such afloctation in a medical prac- titioner, who is entitled to peculiar ijidulgencc for technical phrase- ology, how much more unbecoming is it in a mimater ofsalvalion :' 23 178 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. entific or abstract, is much more improper in prayer than in preaching ; because in a devotional exercise, all explanation of terms, is inadmissible, and all display of eradition, is intolerable. But such a use of words in a sermon is altogether improper, ex- cept in some case of special necessity, such as will rarely or never occur to a wise preacher. There is a soxtoi metaphysical ohscurity in terms, borrowed from a recent nomenclature of polemic theology, and employed to some extent, in sermons. Preachers who fall into it, cannot, for example, use the plain, scriptural word heart, but instead of it say, " generic volition," — " predominant purpose," &ic. The obscurity of metaphysical periphrasis, is attended with no imaginable advantage, in preaching, unless it be, that it enables the preacher, when hard pressed with difficulties, as he possibly may be, to make his escape by saying to a troublesome inqui- rer, " you did not understand me." There is one more violation of simplicity in the style of ser- mons, which the preacher should avoid ; I mean the display of extensive reading. The practice of introducing scraps of quo- tations from classical authors, if carried beyond very moderate limits, even in literary compositions, is so repulsive to men of taste, that it is much less prevalent now than it was in some former periods. At this day, pedantry in the pulpit, is much more likely to show itself in exotic phrases, in far- fetched rhe- torical figures, in citing the apothegms of illustrious men, and especially in obtruding upon plain hearers, the names and the opinions of learned writers. To seek the admiration of others by solving difficulties, which we ourselves have created, is an artifice, unworthy of any respectable man. "It is not difficult," says Usher, " to make easy things appear hard ; but to render hard things easy, is the hardest part of a good orator and preach- er." But when there is no ajfectation of this sort, the habits of a cultivated mind, may deceive a preacher ; and he may, imper- ceptibly to himself, take it for granted that his language is intel- ligible to his hearers, because it is so to himself. "■ The extent STYLE OF THE PULPIT. 179 of his knowledge," says a competent judge on this subject, " the quickness of his perception ; his abihty to grasp a wide, and to unravel a complex subject, to appreciate the force of arguments, and to keep up his attention without fatigue, during a long and arduous investigation ; these advantages place him at a distance from uncultivated minds. But when in addition to the difficulties he must encounter from these causes, he speaks a language widely different from that of the mass of his heai'ers, in its copiousness, its arrangement, its images, and its very terms ; he will evidently be in great danger of being gen- erally obscure, and frequently, almost unintelligible to them. The words of Latin and of French derivation in our language, are extremely numerous ; and a large proportion of them arc completely naturalized, among men of education. They are so perfectly familiar to the ear of a scl^iolar, that he has no concep- tion before he makes the trial, how many of them are never found in the vocabulary of the lower classes. When a young man therefore, accustomed to the language of erudition, laden with school and academic honors, finds himself the pastor of a country congregation, what is his duty? Not indeed to adopt a barbarous and vulgar phraseology ; — ^lout, like a mis- sionary lately arrived in a new region, or like an inhabitant of another planet, dropped into a village, he must study the habits of mind, and the language of those among whom he is placed, before he can prosecute his ministerial labors with effect."* The effort required in this case, well becomes one whose honor it is, for Christ's sake, to be the servant of all. Concern- ing the simple rhymes, composed by the great reformer, for the sake of the vulgar, it has been well remarked ; " For these ballads Luther may receive a greater reward, at the last day, than for whole shelves of learned folios. Vanity may make a man speak and wTite learnedly ; but piety only can prevail on a good scholar to simplify his speech, for the sake of the vulgar.f * Christian Observer. t Augustine says " Of what value is a goUleu key, if it will not open what we wish ? — and what is the harm of a wooden one, if it will 180 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. Such a preacher, though his worth may be overlooked by the undiscerning now, will one day have a name that is above ev- ery name, whether it be philosopher, poet, orator, or whatever is most revered among mankind."* As examples of simplicity, without vulgarity in the pulpit, I might name Fenelon, Cecil, Bradley, Payson, and perhaps John Robinson. The second quality requisite in the style of Sermons, is seri- ousness. In some departments of oratory, ridicule may be employed with propriety, and with great effect. In the hands of the sen- ator or pleader, this instrument often has an invisible edge, when argument is unavailing. But the dignity of the pulpit rejects the aid of this weapon. I do not say that satire in ser- mons is never admissible ; but it is always dangerous, and al- most always mischievous. " It may correct a foible, may chastise The freaks of fashion, regulate the dress ." But where are its siiblimer trophies found ? What vice has it subdued ? whose heart reclaini'd By rigor, or whom laugh'd into reform ? Alas! Leviathan is not so tam'd : Laugh'd at, he laughs again, and stricken hard, Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales, That fear no discipline of human hands." If tlie graver sort of irony, employed for sober purposes, can seldom be indulged in the pulpit, what shall we say of that un- meaning levity and ivitticism of language, which is sometimes heard in sermons ? The preacher trifles in this manner, under the pretence of keeping up the attention of his hearers. But what ' attention does he desire ; and for what purpose 1 Not the at- tention of the theatre or the circus : but the attention of immor- tal beings, lo. a -message from God. Let him not then degrade his office and himself, by a preposterous levity. Surely, w^hen accomplisli this ])urpose ? — since all we seek is to obtain access to what is concealed." * Robinson on Claude. STYLE OF THE PULPIT. 181 mingled with the most momentous and awful subjects, there is especial reason to say, " of laughter, it is mad, and of mirth, what doeth it." But seriousness in the pulpit is inconsistent, not merely with sarcasm, and witticism, but with that affected smartness of ex- pression, and that exuberance of sparkling embellishment, which betray at once a puerile taste, and a heart unaffected with the great subjects of religion. Bates says, " This is like Nero's lading his gallies from Egypt, with sand for the wrest- lers, when Rome was starving for want of corn." This leads me to notice a third excellence in the style of sermons, which is earnestness. Let me not be understood to recommend that false animation which characterizes every species of artificial eloquence. All that vain parade and pomp of elocution, in which the speaker's effort is to exhibit himself and not his subject, is contemptible in a lawyer ; but in a minister of the gospel, it is unpardonable. " Shall those," says Fenelon, " who ought to speak hke Apos- tles, gather up those flowers of rhetoric, which Demosthenes, Manlius and Brutus trampled on ? What could we think of a preacher, who should, in the most affected jingle of words, show sinners the divine judgment hanging over their heads, and hell under their feet ? There is a decency to be observed, in our language, as in our clothes. A disconsolate widow does not mourn in fringes, ribands, and embroidery. And an Apostolical minister ought not to preach the word of God in a pompous style, full of affected ornaments. The Pagans would not have endured to see even a comedy so ill acted. I love a serious preacher who speaks for my sake, and not for his own ; who seeks my salvation, and not his own vain glory. He best deserves to be heard, who uses speech only to clothe his thoughts ; and his thoughts only to promote truth and virtue. A man who has a great and active soul, needs never fear the want of ex- pressions. His most ordinary discourses will have exquisite strokes of oratory, which the florid haranguers can never imitate. He is not a slave to words, but closely pursues the truth. 18'2 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. He knows that vehemence is, as it were, the soul of elo- quence."* When a prelate inquired of Garrick, why the theatre exhibit- ed so much more eloquence than the pulpit, the actor replied ; " We speak of fictions as if they were realities ; you speak of realities as if they were fictions." Let a stammering peasant be put to plead for his life, and he is eloquent. Let a minister of the gospel be deeply impressed with the weight of his busi- ness, and he will be eloquent. He will make you understand him, for he understands himself He will make you feel, for he feels himself. The highest order of pulpit eloquence, is nothing but the flame of enlightened piety, united with the flame of genius. When this glows in the bosom, it sanctifies and concentrates all the powers of the mind. It makes even the stripling warrior, " valiant in fight ;" and enables him to cut off the head of Goliath, v/ith the sword wrested from his own hand. Would you know the difference, then, between the pulpit declaimer, and the pulpit orator? — It is this: — the former preaches for himself; the later for God. One seeks the applause of his hearers ; the other, their salvation. One displays before them the arts of a fine speaker ; the other assails them with the lightning and thunder of truth. One amuses the fancy ; the other agitates the conscience ; forces open the eyes of the blind ; and storms the citadel of the heart. The style of declamation may, indeed, be perspicuous. But its perspicuity differs as much from that of fervid eloquence, as the transparency of ice, differs from the glowing transparency of melted glass, issuing from the furnace. * Letter to French Academy. LECTURE XVI. STYLE OF THE PULPIT. DIRECTIONS IN FORMING A STYLE. Skill in writing depends on genius and discipline. Without genius, industry and art can never raise a man's performance above the character of elaborate dulness. Without discipline, the best powers can never be brought to act by any uniform principles, or to any valuable end. For the benefit of those who are still forming their intellectu- al habits, expecting to devote all their powers, to the holy and exalted work of preaching the gospel, I shall now offer some practical suggestions as to the attainment of a good style. In doing this, I shall keep in view the principle advanced in my preceding lecture, that the primary purposes of language are the same to a preacher, as to other men. Just like other men, he needs light to see, and air to breathe ; and when he speaks, he needs words, to convey his meaning forcibly, to those whom he addresses. A proper adaptation of his language to the mo- mentous importance of the subjects which he treats, and to the capachy of his hearers, is certainly his duty ; but the elementa- ry principles of a good style, are the same to him, as to other men. The present lecture, like the preceding, assumes these 184 STRUCTURE OF SERMONS. principles, without repeating the views which I have heretofore expressed. What I shall now attempt is, to give some practi- cal directions for the attainment of a good style. The FIRST of these is, — always remember that the basis OF A GOOD STYLE IS THOUGHT. Language is hut the instrument of mind. To study it on any other principle, is to make the object to be attained, subor- dinate to the means of its attainment. A man who would forni himself as a writer, must acquire the control of his own intel- lectual powers. He must be capable of fixing his mind, with steady attention, to a single point, that he may compare and distinguish the relations of different things. " I never thought," — says Baxter, " that I understood any thing, till I could anat- omize it, and see the parts distinctly, and the union of the parts as they make up the whole." This mental discipline accounts for the clearness and vigor of his style. A writer, who has not established habits of patient, exact thinking, will use words with indeterminate meaning, and unskilful arrangement. But it is not enough for a writer to think clearly, on any sin- gle subject. He may understand his own meaning, and yet have but little meaning ; he may be intelligible to others, and yet be barren. That his style may be interesting, it must be rich in matter. It must exhibit those intellectual qualities in himself, which presuppose good inventive powers, sharpened by much reflection, and patient acquisition of knowledge. As a result of these principles, it must doubtless follow, that the man who sits down to write as the mere student of style, forgetting that language can be studied with advantage, only as the vehicle of thought, will be very liable to miss his aim. Some object he must have in writing, distinct from the attainment of a good style, or he will not write well. I know not that the style of Blair was formed in the method now condemned ; but with all its good qualities, it possesses just those defects which I should expect such a process to produce. Secondly, study your own genius. As in a man's features, and other exterior qualities of person STYLE OF THE PULPIT. 185 SO in his structure of mind, and habits of thinking, and of course in his style, there is an individuality of character. This ap- pears in what he writes, with more or less distinctness, accord- to his native temperament, and the influence of circumstances, by which this temperament is strengthened, or controlled, or trans- formed. While every writer is bound to observe the established laws of grammar, and of rhetoric too, he is at liberty to consult his own taste, as to the general characteristics of the style which he shall adopt. Accordingly we find, among authors of the first rank, a considerable diversity. One is terse and senten- tious ; another, copious and flowing ; another, simple ; another, bold and metaphorical. Now, by losing sight of his o\ati capa- cities and cast of mind, and attempting to be something altogeth- er different from what his Creator intended, a man may not on- ly fail of excellence, but make himself ridiculous. " Plato, in his younger days, had an inclination to poetry, and made some attempts in tragedy and epic ; but finding them unable to bear a comparison with the verses of Homer, he threw them into the fire, and abjared that sort of writing in which he was convinced that he must always remain an inferior." Next to the necessi- ty of being well acquainted with your subject and yourself, I would say. Thirdly, — study the best models. To what extent the ancient classic writers should be included in this direction, as addressed to theological students, and young ministers, is a question, the formal discussion of which, would be inappropriate here. If sober men have good reason to be disgusted, at the extravagant claims sometimes advanced in behalf of classical learning, as certainly they have, still there is another extreme. The prevailing tendency of this age doubt- less is, to fix a very inadequate estimate on the ancient classics, as models of taste and eloquence. An immense field of knowl- edge, is spread before our young men, in their training for pub- lic life ; and a rapid, superficial survey of this field, is ex- pected of them, rather than the patient, elementary process of of study, which is indispensable to thorough scholarship. 24 186 STYLE OF THE PULPIT. Considering, however, the infancy of our literary institutions ; the advanced age at which many of our students unavoidably commence their public education ; the embarrassments under which they pursue it ; and the urgent demand for active service, especially of preachers, it is not easy to fix on any definite at- tainments in classical learning, which should be required of those who are destined to the ministry. That some have been great- ly blessed in this work, who had no pretensions to literary eru- dition, it were idle to question ; and certainly no one can hope for usefulness in this holy calling, without higher endowments than those of mere scholarship. It only remains for me then, in the briefest manner, to suggest some reasons, why a thorough acquaintance with the classics, is important to every Christian preacher, by wdiom it is attainable. It is important because, without this, it is hardly probable that he will ever acquire a complete acquaintance with the princi- ples of his own language. I do not mean to affirm that a tol- erable degree of skill in English philology, must necessarily pre- suppose a knowledge of any other language. But I have no doubt that the degree of skill in our language, which is requisite for a public speaker, may be acquired with the least expense of time, by studying, as a prehminary, the regular, grammatical structure of the Latin and Greek. For a still more obvious reason, classical learning may be use- ful to the preacher, in regard to the lexicography of his own language. He may comply exactly with the law^s of syntax, and yet may use unauthorised words, or may use good words, without precision of meaning, or in a false meaning. Present good use is indeed the only paramount standard of language ; and the province of etymology is very liable to be overrated. But any one who considers how important it is to a speaker or wTiter, that he should use words in their exact signification, and considers to how large an extent, our words are of classical -origin, will perceive at once, how greatly a familiar acquaintance with the derivation of these words, must contribute to precision and copiousness in language. STYLE OF THE PULPIT. 167 Classical learning is important to the preacher, because it gives him access to some of the best examples, ivMch ihe world has produced, in the department of taste and oratory. In all the branches of general knowledge, the writings of Greece and Rome were of course far more restricted, as to range of thought, and richness of matter, than those of modern times. But as models of style and eloquence, no competent judge can doubt, that the ancient, classical works, still hold a rank, preeminent above all others. And though the thoughts of their authors may be tolerably learned from a good translation, he who would study these great masters with a view to style, must read them in their own languafre. To these considerations, may be added another still, of a more general character, namely, the wide field of im'provement in theology and criticism, ivhich is opened to the Christian stu- dent, from familiarity with the labors of the venerable dead. No wise man now, will devote his life, or any large share of it, to searching the endless tomes of antiquity, many of which, are nearly worthless. But there is another extreme. Antiqui- ty had a few master spirits, who gave character to their own age, and to ages following. The influence they exerted on pub- lic opinion constitutes the chief elements of history. What did such men as Augustine believe ? — how did they write ? — how did they preach ? — are questions which deserve at least some regard, in a liberal education for the ministry ; — questions on which every Christian scholar mxist have opinions, either taken up at second hand, or derived from original sources of knowl- edge.* Under the general head of Models, 1 would certainly include a few of the best poets. This selection should be made from * In acquiring information of this sort, theological students might perform a service, at once important to themselves and the church, l)y the systematic reading and translation of select passages, from the ancient fathers. Among these, deserve to be mentioned with special res|iect tliose illustrious cotemporarics, Jerome, Basil, Augustine, and Chrysostoni ; the two former distinguished for elegance, and the two latter for a fervid and powerful eloquence. 18S STYLE OF THE PULPIT. those whose works are characterized by richness, and vigor, and dignity, both of thought and language. A great poet is a mor- al painter. He know^s the sources of emotion, and all the springs of action in the human bosom. The same graphic de- lineation, the same glow and vivacity, by which he rouses the imagination, and seizes the heart, constitute the power of elo- quence. In this view, and this only, the Christian student may derive advantage from a judicious use of Shakspeare, as an anato- mist of the human heart. It has been said, that "when this po- et was born, nature threw away the mould in which his mind W'as formed." In respect to strong, original conception, and ex- act description, probably nothing of the kind has ever been written, equal to the best pieces of Shakspeare. Cowper's Task, while its object is not to exhibit a bold portraiture of the passions, often thrills the heart with touches of exquisite painting. With an ethereal delicacy and elevation of sentiment, to which Shakspeare was a stranger, it combines a more perfect command of the English language, as to copiousness and harmony of dic- tion, than has been possessed by any of our standard writers ex- cept Pope. The Paradise Lost too, has passages of distin- guished beauty, in respect to mere diction ; while in respect to astonishing powers of imagination, it not only surpasses, but greatly surpasses, every other human composition. Let any Christian student of oratory, go through a patient an- alysis of the Iliad and the Eneid, and compare these with the great poem of Milton, and he will not fail to see that the grand and majestic conceptions of the latter, were owing to the fact that his genius was trained to sublimity in the school of the sacred writers.* * On this subject, there is as niiicli of tiutli, ;is there is of enthusi- asm, in the following epigram of Dryect to the things about us, so as to lay us ojien to new assaults and particular dangers, and sidijects us to inconveniences from which any other situation is exempt ; — as a public or a private life, youth and age, wealth and poverty, have all some evil closely ad- herent, which cannot wholly be escaped, but by quitting the state to which it is annexed, and submitting to the incinnbrances of some oth- er condition ; — so it cannot be denied that every difference in the structure of the mind has its advantages and its wants ; and that fail- ures and defects being inseparable from humanity, however the pow- ers of understanding be extended or contracted, there will, on one side or the other, always be an avenue to error and miscarriage." Here is a sentence of twelve lines, so elaborate in its formation, as not to be at all a model for purposes of popidar address. 2 Example. The loose sentence. — (from Chalmers.) "We ask you to collect all the scattered remnants of wliat is great, and what is graceful in accomplishments, that may have survived the fall of our first parents; and we pronounce of the whole assemblage, that they go not to alleviate by one iota, the burden of that controversy which lies between God and their posterity ; that through all the ranks and THET SHOULD BE DIRECT AND EXPLICIT. 243 But aside from rhetorical structure, there is a kind of indefi- nite style, which may be called a factitious simplicity, in divei-sities of character wliicli prevail in the world, tliere is one per- vading affection of enmity to liim ; — that the man of talents forgets that that he has notliiiiir he did not receive, and so, courting by some lofly enterprise of mind, the gaze of this world's admiration, he renounces his God, and makes an idol of his fame ; — that the ujan of ambition feels not how subordinate he is to the mii;ht and majesty of his Cre- ator, but turning away all his reverence from him, falls down to the idol of power; — that the man of avarice withdraws all his trust from the living God, and, embarking all his desire in the pursuit of riches, and all his security in the jjosscssion of them, he makes an idol of wealth ; — that, descending from these to the average and the every- day memi)ers of our world's population, we see each walking after the counsel of his own heart, and the sight of his own eyes, with ev- ery wish directed to the objects of time, and every hope bounded by its anticipations ; and amid all the love they bear to their families, and all the diligence they give to their business, and all the homage of praise and attachment they obtain from their friends, are they so sur- rounded by the influences of what is seen and sensible, that the invisi- ble God is scarcely ever thought of, and his character not at all dwelt on with delight, and his will never admitted to an habitual and prac- tical ascendency over their conduct, so as to make it true of all and of every one of us, that there is none who understandeth, and none who seekcth after God." Here again, we have one protracted sentence, of twenty-nine print- ed lines, with such accumulation of members, that it needs to beslnd- ied, before the connexion of its parts can be fully perceived. This undue length, however, is less likely to occasion obscurity, in the loose sentence, than in the periodic, because in the former, that word or two, which is a key to the whole sense, comes out at the beginning, while in the latter, it is reserved to the close. But, hi both cases, the structure is too elaborate for popular impression. 3 Example. Simple and direct style ; — (from Baxter.) " To preach a sermon, I think is not the hardest part of our work ; and yet what skill is necessary to make })lain the truth, to convince tlie hearers, to let irresistible light in to the consciences, and keep it there. It is a lamentable case, that, in a message from the God of heaven, of ever- lasting consequence to the souls of men, we should behave ourselves so, as that the whole business should miscarry in our hands. How often have carnal hearers gone jeering home at the palpable and dis- honorable failings of the preacher"? How many sleep under us, be- cause our hearts and tongues are sleepy ; and we bring not with us skill and zeal enough to awaken them ? Brethren, do you not shrink and tremble, under a sense of the greatness of your work ? Will a common measure of ability and prudenco serve for such a task as 244 GENERAL CHAllACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. which the terms employed are all intelligible, and well arranged, but so general as to cast an air of obscurity over the meaning. Examples of this sort abound in the published discourses of Dr. Chalmers, who, by the fascinations of his genius, his high repu- tation, and the drapery of peculiar diction in which he clothes his thoughts, is more likely to vitiate, by his influence, the style of young preachers, than any other living model. With much less of real talent than Chalmers, Irving has stu- diously copied the worst faults of that writer, besides being pro- lific in faults of his own. The same thoughts which Baxter would have expressed with unstudied brevity and directness, both these preachers express by a periphrastic generality. For example, — the former would say, perhaps, of two men, that " they were intimate friends," — the latter would say " they were united in the afFectionateness of intimate companionship." The former would describe " the believer's conquest, by conformity to God ; " the latter would describe " the overcoming of his passions, by the attemperment of his affections to the divine im- age." The former would say, " This is the character of all men ; " the latter, " this is the character of the world's popula- tion." The former would say, " sincerity," — the latter, " incor- ruptible truthfulness ; " — the former, " he was indignant," — the yours ? JVecessity may indeed cause tlie church to tolerate the weak ; but wo to us if we tolerate our own weakness. Say, brethren, in the fear of God, do ynii regard the success of your labors, and wisli to see it upon the sonis of your hearers, or do you not? If you do not, why do you study and preach, and call yourselves the ministers of Christ? If you do, surely you cannot ea- sily be induced to spoil your own work. While men have eyes, as well as ears, they will think thej' see your meaning as well as hear it; and they are much more ready to believe what they see than what they hear. It greatly prevents our success, that other men are all the week contradicting to the people in private, what we have been speak- ing from the word of God in public ; but it will prevent it much more, if we contradict ourselves ; if our actions give our words the lie." The chief object of these examples is to show, that as to its effect on the minds of hearers, the artificial manner of forming sentences is feeble, compared with that which is direct and simple. THEY SHOULD BE DIRECT AND EXPLICIT. 245 latter, " a feeling of inclignancy came over him ; " the former, " his heart was stung with remorse," — the latter, " with unut- terable painfulness, the feeling of remorse came over him." There is, it must be confessed, in the fault I am describing, an apparent aim to depart from the customary phraseology of the best writers ; but affectation of peculiarity is not the main difficulty. Instead of a clear, terse, compact style, there is, in the formation of sentences, a loose generality, as to words and members. Instead of a meaning, specific and obvious, so ex- pressed that you see instantly and exactly what it is, you see it indistincthj, as you see the moon through a dense mist. Would the lime permit, I might properly apply the foregoing principles to the use o^ figures in style, the purpose of which is often frustrated by indistinctness. The painter would deserve little credit, who should draw the likeness of a man, so as not to be distinguishable from that of an elephant. In language, it is a maxim of universal application, that vivacity of impression de- pends on the precision and speciahty of the terms employed. Change Milton's description of Satan's shield, which " hung on his shoulders like the moon,^' to this form, " it hung on his shoulders like a Juminous body,'' and the figure is ruined. And the bold comparison of the prophet, " The mountains skipped like rams, and the little hills like lambs," would be divested en- tirely of its picturesque character, if transformed into, " they moved like animals." A figure may be so general as to ex- press no resemblance to any thing, and therefore be much less intensive than a plain word. Such are the ways in which the preacher, through bad taste, may be so indefinite in ])hraseology, that, while his sentiments and spirit are altogether good, he may make no distinct impres- sion on his hearers. 3. Indefinite preaching may arise from constitutional DELICACY OF TEMPERAMENT IN THE PREACHER. Hc may be wanting in boldness, to utter sentiments which he believes to be true and important. There is, I am aware, a spurious boldness which is neither 246 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. conducive to the usefulness of a Christian preacher, nor credita- ble in any respect to his character. There is a courage which consists in rashness, which pushes on at random, without regard to time, or place, or occasion ; which sets at defiance the rules of discretion, and often of decorum. Sometimes it is mere rus- ticity, which falls on the most offensive manner of doing and saying things, from ignorance of what is becoming. Sometimes it is an affected fidelity, which chooses to give offence ; and makes a merit of provoking hostility to the truth, by the form of its exhibition. Sometimes it is native asperity or obstinacy, which regards all respect for the feelings of others, and all kindness of manner, as pusillanimity. A man of this descrip- tion may be a very lucid and direct, and yet a very unprofitable preacher; for it maybe easy to understand him, but hard to love him, or to love the truth, which he clothes with so repul- sive an aspect. But there is another extreme. The preacher, through an amiable delicacy of temper, may shrink from the explicit declar- ation of truths, which he apprehends would awaken inquietude in his hearers. He is reluctant to m^ict pain on others. Perhaps no better illustration of this point can be given, than that which is found in the late Bishop Porteus, a man admitted by all to have been one of the brightest ornaments of the En- glish church. While he doubtless believed all the great truths of the gospel, he too much submerged them in the generalities of a popular theology, so that a distinct recognition of them will rarely be found in the perusal of his discourses. He dwelt on the wisdom, the duty, the satisfaction of a religious life, where a direct preacher would have said, " without holiness, no man shall see the Lord." A very candid and able reviewer of his life in the Christian Observer says ; " He supposed too much in his hearers, the ex- istence of the qualities which the Bible labors to beget. He spoke commonly in general terms ; dealt much in the imperson- al verb, much in the thii'd person. The man of mild temper will naturally, in addressing an audience, take refuge in general THEY SHOULD BE DIRECT AND EXPLICIT. 247 terms, abstract truths, impersonal verbs, third persons, and the mixture of general applause to the muss, with the measured condemnation of individuals. Nevertheless, such mildness has no prototype in the scriptures ; nor is it consonant to the dictates of enlightened humanity. We do not warn the man whose house in on fire, by the abstract assurance that " fire is dangerous ; " by introducing a third person, and saying " he is in danger ; " — by adverting to those noble public institutions, the fire insurance companies. Nor must the delegated apostle of Christianity fail to discriminate, to individualize, to strike home, to draw the line betwixt the form and spirit of religion ; to show that the best church cannot of itself sanctify those who enter it ; " to speak," as old Baxter says, " like a dying man to dying men ; to warn, rebuke, exhort," like one who expects to meet his congregation next at the bar of God." As it was with this distinguished prelate, so it doubtless is, in many other cases. A good degree of correct belief, and zeal, and spirituality may exist in the preacher, and yet his sermons may fail to make any distinct impression, through an excess of kindness, or an over-wrought sensibility, which dreads to inflict pain, by a direct and pointed exhibition of truth. 4. Indefinite preaching may arise from the " absolute WANT OF PIETY, OR FROM A LOW STATE OF PIETY, in the preacher. In the latter case, while his personal religion is barely sufficient to secure his own salvation, his preaching will do lit- tle to promote the salvation of his hearers. The man whose governing principle is love to Christ, and who solemnly be- lieves that his hearers must repent or perish, will speak in dem- onstration of the Spirit and with power, because he means to be understood. But suppose the man to be influenced by supreme love to himself — how will he preach ? Perhaps he entered the min- istry as a mere profession, to gain his living by it. Will he then incur the risk of alienating his hearers, and losing his place, and his income, by an explicit declaration of divine truth ; No, — he does not mean to preach the gospel, so as to be understood. 248 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. Perhaps he is ambitious of distinction, as a man of learning and taste. Among his hearers, he numbers famihes, wealthy, polite, intelligent, fastidious ; — whose refined sensibilities would be shocked, at the faithful portrait of their own character as sin- ners, and the awful retribution that awaits them hereafter. Something of Christian truth they are willing to hear from the pulpit, if it is adapted to their fancy, by elegance of costume, and makes no stirring appeal to their conscience. But can the man whose chief object is popular applause, be expected to sa- crifice the favor of these worldly hearers, by preaching the gos- pel, in a manner so direct, as to be profitable to the poor and ignorant ? It is no part of his design to carry the trutii home with power to the conscience ; — he does not mean to be under- stood. A man who wishes to impress on other minds that which deeply interests his own, will easily find words suited to his pur- pose. Does the starving beggar address you with studied am- plification, so as to leave you in doubt as to his object ? He comes to the point at once, and asks for bread. Does the gen- eral, in the heat of battle, when all is at stake on a single charge, seek out the recondite terms of philosophy, or the em- belhshments of rhetoric, in addressing his army ? No, his lan- guage is brief and direct ; — " On, comrades, on ! " Just so the preacher, who firmly believes the message of the gospel, and solemnly feels its everlasting importance to his hearers, will de- liver this message jylainly, like a man in earnest. So did John the Baptist. He knew that his life was in danger, from the sanguinary temper of Herod. But he was charged from heaven with a message of rebuke, to that guilty man, and he did not scruple to deliver it. When John preached generalli/, Herod '* heard him gladly ; " but when the fearless stroke was aimed at the conscience of that licentious king, " it is not lawful for thee to have thy brother's wife," he beheaded the preacher. Let love to God and to souls, and the solemn anticipation of meeting his hearers at the judgment, be predominant in a man's heart, and this will strip off from his sermons, all the dra- THEY SHOULD BE DIRP:CT AXD EXPLICIT. 249 pery of concealment, and artificial ornament, and lead him to a plain, downright, searching exhibition of divine truth, which \vill make his hearers' hearts burn within them. But let the love of himself be the ruling principle, and this will probably give to his preaching some of those forms of gen- erality, which will frustrate all its salutary effects. Perhaps it will transmute what should be a Christian sermon, into a frigid essay. The course of thought, with the careful avoidance of all divisions, or obvious arrangement of any sort, flows on in the uninterrupted succession of sentences, constructed perhaps by the nicest rules of art ; but when the discourse is ended, noth- ing is proved ; no conviction, no light, no excitement is given, or was meant to be given to any mind. Hence it is, that out- rageously immoral men often listen to such exhibitions from the pulpit, with no inquietude ; or if any throb of conscience^is felt, retiring from the sanctuary, they forget what manner of per- sons they are. A general approbation of what is right, or con- demnation of what is wrong, may have been awakened, but it is all as the parable of Nathan to David would have been, without the application, " Thou art the man." Preachers, defective in piety, may use evangelical terms, as sin, repentance, atonement, sanctificaiion, and yet preach no sin- gle doctrine of the gospel clearly. They often adopt a phrase- ology, so guarded and general, as not to disturb the most fastid- ious contemner of the gospel. Where Christ would say, " He that believeth not shall be damned," — they speak of the " sanc- tions of Christianity." Where this divine Teacher would say, "Ye must be born again," — they inculcate the "import- ance of moral reformation." Where Paul would say, " The carnal mind is enmity against God," they speak of " the lapsed state of man." Where he would inculcate " holiness," — they descant on " the moral fitness of things, and the beauty of vir- tue." Nay, in the act of quoting this apostle, a fastidious preacher of this sort polished away the roughness on the in- spired text, " Make your calling and election sure," by render- ing it, " Make your calling and salvation sure." 32 250 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. Such sermons have no tendency to instmct the ignorant, nor to alarm the careless, nor to accomplish any one purpose of Christian preaching. The advocate who should speak to a ju- ry, in language so indefinite, as purposely to make no distinct impression on their minds, while his client is on trial for his life, would scarcely be employed again, in any cause of magnitude. The physician, who should seem to believe that there is no such thing as dangerous disease among men ; or who should barely talk of the benefits of health, to one in a burning fever ; or pre- scribe some palliative to a man in the consumption, and the same to a man in the dropsy, would be thought, as Baxter says, " a sort of civil murderer." Why then should he who ministers to souls, trifle with his sa- cred charge ? Why speak ohscurely, when the tmth to be ut- tered, is char as the light of heaven, and the motives to declare it plainly, are momentous as eternity ? LECTURE XXII. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. There remains one more topic, under the general head of indefinite preaching, which it seems necessary to expand, so much as to make it the chief subject of the present lecture. I proceed then to say, 5. That indefinite preaching may arise from wrong"theo- RY IN THE PREACHER, AS TO THE BEST MODE OF EXHIBITING DIVINE TRUTH. This may occur perhaps in a given case, not because there is any obvious deficiency of taste, or discrimination, or boldness, or piety, in the dispenser of the sacred oracles ; but because he honestly believes, that men are less likely to be converted, un- der a direct and explicit declaration of Christian doctrines, than under one that is more cautious and qualified. The principle assumed, to express it briefly, is this ; that re- ligious truth, to produce any saving effect on men, must operate according to the philosophy of the human mind ; and that to exhibit this truth in such a manner that the cftect is to awaken opposition in the hearers, is of course to harden their hearts, and confirm them in impenitence. The assumption is, in other words, 252 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. that men are predisposed to embrace the truth, if it is skilfully exhibited ; and that when they are excited to feelings of oppo- sition, this must be owing to some fault in the preacher. After the remarks which I have already made on that point, no one will understand me as justifying a studied repulsiveness of man- ner in the pulpit. But I regard the theory just mentioned, though it is embraced by some good and able preachers, as wrong in principle, and as inconsistent both with the Bible and facts. Fully to show this, might lead to a discussion more extended than is consistent with my present object, which is to suggest only those thoughts that have a direct bearing on the point in hand. In the FIRST place, the Bible represents unsanctijied men as predisposed, not to receive and love the truth, but to HATE AND OPPOSE IT. Evcry sucli man is an enemy to God. In proof of this I will cite but one text, as a specimen of the concurrent testimony of the sacred oracles ; " The carnal mind is enmity against God." To say that this refers only to Jews or to men of one age, is to trifle with the plain import of language ; for it clearly applies to men universally, of all ages. Hence a spe- cial regeneration by the Holy Spirit, is also taught in the Bible, as univeisally necessary to qualify men for heaven ; because by nature they have no holiness, and never would have any, if left to themselves. Every such man loves himself supremely, and is therefore opposed to the law, which requires him to love God supremely. He loves sin, and is therefore opposed to the law, which requires him to be holy, and threatens him with death, for every trans- gression. He loves tranquillity in his unbelief, and is therefore opposed to the alarming denunciation of the gospel, " he that believeth not shall be damned." He is proud ; and therefore is opposed to that whole system of truth, by which " the lofti- ness of men is bowed down, and the haughtiness of men is made low, and the Lord alone is exalted." Accordingly this system of truths, especially the doctrine of personal THEY SHOULD BE DIRECT AND EXPLICIT. 253 election, and the sovereignty of divine grace, when not dis- guised, or explained away by preachers, has been, like the sect of the Nazarenes, " every where spoken against." And can it be, notwithstanding all this evidence as to the native temper of the human heart, that it is predisposed to love the gospel, if properly exhibited ? and that all its opposition to the truth, arises from the preacher's want of skill in presenting the system of Christian doctrines, according to the laws of intellectual phi- losophy ? In the SECOND place, such a theory of preaching has no COUNTENANCE FROM THE PUBLIC MINISTRY OF ChRIST. He did not represent men as predisposed to love God, so soon as they should see his true character, for this true character was the very thing which they hated. " Ye have both seen and hated both me and my Father." " This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men love darkness, rather than light." When hatred arises from intellectual misappre- hension, light will remove it ; when it arises from the state of the heart, light will increase it. I mean that while the heart hates the true character of God, clearer views of that character do not produce love, but more hatred. If the opposition of sin- ners to God were only an intellectual mistake, if it were only opposition to a. false character of God, it could not be criminal, for every false character of God ought to be opposed. But the difficulty with sinners in Isaiah's time, was not an intellectual one ; " A deceived heart turned them aside." Just so it was in the time of Christ. If his hearers only needed to have the truth skilfully set before them, to love it, why did they often bitterly complain, under his sermons ? Did not Christ know how to preach his own gospel ? Was it want of acquaintance with the human heart, or of skill in adapting his instructions to the real condition of men, which led him so to exhibit the doc- trine of divine sovereignty at Nazareth, that "the whole syna- gogue were filled with indignation ? " Suppose that this great Teacher had conformed to the theory that the gospel must be so preached, as not to be repulsive to depraved hearts, the 254 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. scornful and malignant opposition that was waged against him, he would indeed have escaped. Why ? Just because he would have given men a system of religion, at once adapted to please their pride, and to leave them without remedy and with- out hope in their alienation from God. He knew that the only way to save lost sinners, was to show them that they were lost ; and to make them feel their awful guilt and danger. But this he could not do, without disturbing the enmity of their carnal minds. In the THIRD place, the theory that the gospel, when proper- ly preached, finds the unsanctified heart predisposed to embrace it, IS CONTRARY TO THE GENERAL EVIDENCE OF FACTS. From the ministry of its divine Founder to the present time, the gospel has fought its way, against the pride, and prejudice, and unbelief of this same human heart, arrayed in a thou- sand forms of inveterate hostility to oppose its progress. In- deed, that this religion, in its primitive purity, should have maintained an existence on earth, in the face of so much oppo- sition, and notwithstanding so many motives operating on its teachers to disguise its truths, and neutralize its character, is ow- ing merely to the shield of omnipotence, interposed for its pro- tection. To the maxim then, — that to repel the human heart is not the tvay to convert it, I reply by another maxim ; — that to ap- pease the enmity of the heart, by accommodating the gospel to its taste, is not the way to convert it ; but is the direct way to frustrate the saving influence of divine truth, and to fix men in hopeless rejection of it. Paradox as it may seem to unbehef, it ought to be no mystery to the Christian teacher, that those searching, humbling truths, which inflict agony on the sinner's conscience, are the only means of his deliverance^ from spiritu- al death. So thought the great physician of souls. To those diseased with sin, he did not scruple to administer bitter medi- cines. > And shall we imagine ourselves more merciful and skil- ful than Christ, while we leave untouched the deadly malady of THEY SHOULD BE DIRECT AND EXPLICIT. 255 the soul, because we choose to accommodate our prescriptions to the wishes of those who are utterly ignorant of their disease as sinners, and of the only remedy provided in the gospel ? Suppose that Paul, when he was going to Corinth, could have been addressed by some adept in intellectual philosophy, and told, " it is preposterous for you to preach the doctrine of Christ crucified, in that refined city. This doctrine is ' to the Jews a stumbling block, and to the Greeks foolishness.' " He would have said, — ' I know it, but this same doctrine is, not- withstanding, the wisdom of God, and the power of God unto salvation. Your maxim of modifying the gospel, lest it should repel the sinful heart, would bind over the world to despair.' Suppose you were called to devise the best method of con- verting infidels to Christianity ; — would you present it to them as it came from Christ ? or as accommodated by a philosophical theory to their prejudices ? Priestly tried this latter experiment, — fully expecting that Jews and philosophical unbelievers would embrace what he called a rational Christianity. What was the result ? The Jews believed, not that Christianity is true, but that Priestly was no consistent Christian. And he, very candidly acknowledging the disappointment of his own hopes, said ; " I do not know that my book has converted a sin- gle unbeliever." Or suppose you were sent as a missionary to the heathen ; would you modify the gospel, so that they might think it coin- cident with their own superstitions ? That they might be in- duced to take on them the Christian name, would you amalga- mate their faith with yours ? This experiment too, has been tried. The Romish missionaries in China, acting on the genu- ine theory of their master Loyola, carried out the plan of con- verting the heathen by accommodation. " They gave up the main things in which Christians and heathens had been ac- customed to differ, and allowed the Chinese every favorite spe- cies of idolatry. The consequence was, they had a great many converts such as they were ; but thinking people looked upon 256 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. the missionaries as more converted to heathenism, tlian the hea- then to Christianity."* I have thus imperfectly fulfilled the task which I assigned to myself in several preceding lectures, designed to exhibit the general characteristics of a good sermon. The first characteris- tic, which I stated to be indispensable in a sermon, is, that it be evangelical. After showing what this implies, I urged the im- portance of it from the twofold consideration, that no other than the evangelical system, fully brought out in sermons, is adapted to accomplish the great end of preaching ; and that in point of fact, no other ever has accomplished this end. The next characteristic of a good sermon is, that it be in- structive ; namely, — that it have an important subject ; that it be perspicuous in method and language ; that it be rich in mat- ter ; that it have the form of discussion rather than that of de- clamation; and that it exhibit divine truth in its connexions. That a Christian sermon ought to be instructive, appears from the constitution of the human mind; — from the nature of the gospel ; — from the best examples, and the best effects of preach- ing ; — and from the tendency of instructive preaching, and of this only, to promote the unity and strength of the church. The third characteristic of a good sermon is directness. What this implies is illustrated from the preaching of Christ, and of Whitefield. The causes which produce the indefinite and indirect sort of preaching, are; — Want of intellectual precision in the preacher ; — false taste in the preacher ; — constitutional delicacy of temperament in the preacher ; — and absolute want of piety, or a low state of piety. The topics on which I have thus expressed my thoughts at full length, I regard as of vital importance to the interests of re- ligion. Doubtless the real gospel may be preached so techni- cally, or paradoxically, or controversially, or with such an air of ostentatious fidelity, as to frustrate its proper effects. But the present preachers of our country are unquestionably more in * Fuller's Works, II. 38. THEY SHOULD BE DIRECT AND EXPLICIT. 257 danger of erring on the side of cautious reserve, than of indis- cretion, in exhibitiiiL( Cliristia]i floctrines. These, as I have said ill another place, were preached with much more freijucn- cy and directness fonnerly, than they arc now preached, at least by niiiiisters j^enerally. The taste of this day is not for ]\ard thinld)\'T, hut for narra- tive, stir, bustle, excitement. In the department of Christia)i action, our cliurchcs are progi'essive ; in religious discriminatio)i, in strength and soundness of doctrinal views, they have, for some time, been losing ground. TJiere is a deterioration, analogous to that which the aged Englishman described in looking back, tJu'Ough many by-gone years, to the time of his boyliood. '•' Then," said he, " we had oaken tables, and oakoi plates, and oaken seats, and \villow baskets; and tlicn we had oaken men. Now we have n)ahogany tables, and mahogany seats, and silk- en cusliions, a)id silver vases ; and now Ave Jiave ■willow men, and silTctn men. Then the doors had latches, now they have locks and bars. T])en the iiicn defended iJic houses, now the houses must defend the men." The fathers who planted these churches were hardy, robust Christians. Sons of Saxon ancestors, and imbued whh the spir- it of Puritan iiitrepidity, they not only maintaijicd, at every sa- crifice, the right to think for thonsclves in matters of religion, but did think for tliemselves. They understood their own sys- tem ol" faiLlu Trained in the fires of persecution, and accus- tomed to the Ijufletings of the wintiy blast, they could digest strong food. The solid nutriment of Christian tmth gave them firmness in purpose, and vigor in execution for the work before them. But \\c are in danger of rearing a puny race of Chris- tians, of sickly tonperament ; wliose capricious appetite must be fed with delicacies ; — a race of religious invalids, pallid and feeble, compared with the men of might, from whom they are descended. Tliere may be a religion, which consists much in popular ex- citeniout, and which appears well in public meetings, and sub- scription lists, but is wanting in substance. It is a religion bet- 33 258 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. ter adapted to parade in the soldier's uniform, than to encoun- ter the marches of a wintry campaign, and the pushing of bay- onets. When Christians generally shall be well instructed, in the great truths of the gospel ; and shall exhibit the fruits of a solid, enlightened, consistent, fervent, enduring piety, the church will be " terrible as an army with banners." But if the American pulpit has in these respects failed, to any serious extent, of maintaining its legitimate influence, in what way drl this come to pass ? During the last century, Arminian views having been gradu- ally ushered into many pulpits, the way was prepared for a lax theology, in various forms, to diffuse its influence among the churches, instead of the stricter views of the Puritan Fathers. Pious ministers, through a process unperceived by themselves, became the subjects of this influence. The first step of accom- modation was to modify the phraseology of Calvinism, by adop- ting in sermons a generality of terms more acceptable to hearers of fastidious taste. Such a course was honestly deemed expe- dient, by many good men, because the customary terms of or- thodoxy had been, in some places, so distorted by misrepresen- tation, as to convey to the hearers a meaning wide from the re- al sentiments of the preacher. The next step of accommodation was a studied concealment of the doctrines themselves ; against which, just in proportion as their advocates gave way, an unmeasured and unmitigated hos- tility was waged by their opposers. The leaders in error ad- vanced with bold front, to occupy every inch of ground, aban- doned by over cautious Calvinists. At last, when about 1815, they displayed their banner in open day, the state of the Chris- tian community, in the region which had been the chief theatre of this declension, was. in many respects, not merely extraordi- nary, it was deplorable. Churches there were, planted by the Pilgrims, and in whose cemetries reposed the dust of their ven- erable founders ; churches, whose former pastors had been burning and shining lights ; churches, whose present pastors had gloried in their attachment to the doctrines of the Reformation, THEY SHOULD BE DIRECT AND EXPLICIT. ii59 and whose public reputation for orthodoxy assigned them to tfi e first post of martyrdom, should martyrdom become the tost t)f fidelity ; and yet, strange as the fact may seem, and lamentable as it certainly is, these same churches, for years together had too, rarely heard any one great doctrine of the Reformation fully, dis- tinctly, unequivocally exhibited from the pulpit. Generally and indefinitely they were accustomed to hear all these truths main- tained, but not in the form of undisguised, specific statement and proof. On the contrary, men who were communicants in these churches, zealous too, for an undefined orthodoxy, if they had happened to hear a sermon from some preacher, not aware of the cautious diction to which they were accustomed, or not disposed to adopt it, would probably have complained of that sermon. Under an explicit discourse on total depravity, or personal election, or special, divine influence in regeneration, these hearers, notwithstanding their zeal for orthodoxy, might have ^\Tithed with impatience, or perhaps like the hearers of the dying Stephen, been " filled with wrath." The lines are now drawn, and I trust in God, that the period will no more return, in which his ministers shall be subjected to the influence of so many motives, tempting them to appease the enemies of the gospel, by concealment or mutilation of the truth. But the enemy is still in the field. And while the wrecks of churches, ruined by the policy of over-cautious and accommo- dating pastors, are before us ; while the arrears of our own neg- lected duty are to be brought up ; — it is no time for a half-wa} system of preaching the gospel. Let every ambassador of the cross take lor his motto, " The truth, the whole truth, AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH." Forty years ago, infidelity was writing out its inferences in blood. The theories of Voltaire and his associates, though but very partially carried into execution in the tragic scenes of rev- olutionary France, produced results of most appaling interest to the civilized world. The career of infidelity, sanguinary and short as it was, fumished a refutation of its own principles, bet- 260 GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF SERMONS. ter adapted to practical and popular conviction, than a thousand abstract arguments. Having rioted in the )iiurder of millions, it thrust itssv.ord into its own bosom, and lay for a third of a cen- tury dead, tlic nuisance a)id the execration of Christendom. During that period nut one respectable advocate for open infi- delity ap[)eared on the globe. Within a few years, liowever, a kind of athei-tical skepticism seems to bo struggling into renovated life. Under the disguise of the Christian name at first, it re-comme)iced war upon the truths of die gospel. Acquiring courage by degrees, it has com© forth at length, in the ephemeral sheet, in the newspaper par- agraj)]), a)id in llie popular harangue, to attack revivals of relig- ion, the cause of missions, the CInistia)! sabbatli ; and to assail m ever}^ form of vulgar sophistry and vituperation, the ministers and the in.~;tiiutions of the gospel. To crown tJie whole, (if I may be excused for alluding to a fact so extraordinary,) female Lecturers, trained in the Avorst schools of European profligacy, imbued witli a shameless licentiousness of sentiment, unexam- pled i)i the annals of human bardiliood, have stood forth in cro\^'ded assemblies to revile the Bible, the Son of God, and all that is sacred in religion, and to promulgate doctrines, at the mention of which common decency would be put to the blush. But wliat is the practical bearing of these statements, as to the obligations resting on Christians ? Briefly this. Churches and ministers must no longer take it for graiUed that truths, because they are self-evident, or are taught in the Bible, will not ])e disputed. A deadly apathy to all religion, is not the only obstacle >vhich its frioids are called to encounter. Infi- delitij, in its thousaiid, Protean forms, is abroad in the land. Let this fact be remembered, by every man who is permitted to occupy a Christian pulpit. Let it be remembered b)- the conductors of every College, and High-scliool, a)id Bible-class ; — and remembered too, by every school -committee, entrusted with the selection of teachers, and of elementary books, for THEY SHOULD BE DIRECT AND EXPLICIT. S61 children and youtli. Be it as it may, however, in regard to all other men, the preacher of the gospel certainly can find no apology in the aspects of this day, for remissness of effort in communicating instruction, thorough, explicit, radical instruc- tion, in divhie truth. LECTURE XXIll, ON THE CULTIVATION OF SPIRITUAL HABITS, AND PROGRESS IN STUDY. [ Delivered at the opening of the Academical year, Nov. 1831.J Gentlemen, The character which this Seminary sustains from year to year, while we are connected with it, is intimately related to the character which it will sustain, and the influence it loiJl ex- ert on the world, through generations to come. Its foundations were laid in faith and prayer, by men who solemnly felt their need of divine guidance in every movement, and whose chief hope of success, in their sacred enterprise, was a devout reli- ance on the providence of God. On all to whom the interests of this Seminary are specially confided, and all who are admitted to share in its benefits, there rests the full force of a religious obligation, to fulfil, as far as possible, the purpose of its venerable Founders. In this view the Faculty think it very proper that hereafter, each academi- cal year should be opened with a public Lecture, on some sub- ON SRIRITUAL HABITS, 263 ject appropriate to the circumstances and pursuits of those who are prosecuting theological studies here. The topics to which your attention might be profitably direct- ed on this first occasion of the kind, are various ; such as your relations to one another, and the duties growing out of these, namely, Christian example, sympathy, and fraternal admoni- tion ; — relations to your Instructors ; relations to ministers and Christians abroad ; the best season, and the best means of de- ciding on your destination for hfe ; importance and means of preserving health ; growth in personal piety and progress in study. My present remarks will be confined to the two last topics, especially to the last. The brevity with which I am compelled to treat the subject of personal religion, at this time, is not to be understood as implying that I regard its importance as seconda- ry to that of any other subject. On the contrary, all your in- structors, gentlemen, are united in the sentiment, and that senti- ment acquires new strength continually, that whatever else you may possess or acquire, without the love of God, shed abroad in your hearts by the Holy Ghost, you cannot be qualified to preach the gospel ; — nay, in the attempt to do it, you would probably become a burden on the church, and a reproach to the ministry.* But as my chief object lies in another direction, I * We must indeed work, like Nehemiah and his men, with the trowel in one hand and the sword in the other. We have to build and to fight at the same time, and with incessant employment. The progress of the work would be stopped by the lajing down of the trowel. The enemy would gain a teniporary advantage by the sheathing of the sword. Nothing therefore remains but to maintain the posture of resistance in dependance upon him who is our wise Master-builder, and tlie Captain of our salvation — waiting for our rest, our crown, our home. — Bridges. Magnum opus omnino et arduum conamur: sed nihil difficile amanti puto. — Cicero. The eloquent author of the Reformed Pastor, having spoken of Paul's charge to the Elders at E[)hesus, says ; " O brethren, write it on your study doors, or set it as your copy in capital letters, still before your eyes. Could we but well learn two 2G4 ON SPIRITUAL HABITS. cannot enlarge on the importance of personal religion in minis- ters, nor even toucli many interesting brandies of the subject, which demand ilie solemn and often-repeated consideration of theological rjtudents. In this division of tlie Lecture, I shall re- mark only on one pohu, the importance of the spiritual HABITS, WHICTi YOU FORM. Accocdiiig to a settled law of our minds, habits are formed by the periodical recurrence of the same tiling. Even in those habits which are called passive, regular reiteration stamps im- pression. No man forgets tliat tliere is a sun, or doubts his re- turn tomorro\/ : but if there were no regularitij in the succes- sion of day and jiight, no order in the seasons, — there could be no experience, and the business of the world must cease. When a man's habit of dining at a })articular hour becomes fixed, it is of little absolute irnporta)ice wl tether it is early or late : but if that hour is cJiangcd continually, so as to be early one day, and late another, he has no habit ; and is liable to suffer, both in comfort and health. Jjy the influence of custom, things laborious or irksome be- come tolerable and even pleasant ; things apparently impossible become easy ; — things trifling or indifferent become important. A man of twenty may, v/ith little trouble, cliange his room, his or three lines of it, what preachers should we he ! Write all lliis up- on your hearts, aiirl it will do yourselves and the Chiu-ch more good than twenty years' study of those lower things, which, though they get you greater applause in the world, yet sejjarated from this, will make you but sounding brass, and tiukli]ig cymbals." — Baxter. "Qui cupit juxta Paukim esse ^i5ay.Tiy.oc, det 0])erain ut prius sit OsodidaxTog i.e. Divinitus edoctus." — Ekasmus. "None but he who made the world can make a Rlinister of the Gosi)el. If a young man has capacity, culture and application may make him a scholar, a i»hilosopher, or an orator ; but a true minister must have certain princij^les, motives, feelings, and aims, which no industry or endeavors of men can either acquire or communicate. They nnist bo given from above, or they cannot be received." Newton. ON SPIRITUAL HABITS. 265 bed, his chair ; — ^he breaks up no habit ; but to a man of eigh- ty, the change would be a real inconvenience. Now, to apply these illustrations. The man who imagines that he can perform his secret devotions in the street, as well as in his closet, or as well without, as with stated times for the pur- pose, is ignorant of his own mind. Intellectual and spiritual, as well as other habits, are formed on the principles of association. In the regular recurrence of the thing to be done, there must be identity of time, and place, and circumstances. He who assigns to his closet devotions a particular season, will find the return of that season bring with it the recollection of the duty ; so that the omission of it, at the customary time, will be attended with mental uneasiness. His avocations too, will readily become ad- justed to this settled order, so as not to intrude on his hours of communion with God. But the man who waits for impulses, and goes to his closet only at irregular times, has no advantage of habit in this duty. He attends to it without constancy, with- out preparation, without enjoyment. He has no current of spir- itual feeling ; other engagements thrust themselves between him and God ; the day and the night pass away, without any season of retirement ; he forgets to pray, because he has no system, in the care of his own heart. Thus perhaps, he slides into es- trangement from his closet, for days and weeks together. There is no point in Christian experience more settled than this, that there is an intimate connexion between enjoyment in closet devotions, and their return at regular seasons. The best writers on the subject say so. Devout Christians, learned and unlearned, say so. Our own experience says so. Several hun- dred students of this Seminary to whom, at different times, I have put the inquiry, in private conversations, have been agreed on this point, without one exception. If you would form such spiritual habits then, as shall promote your progress in personal religion, draw a sacred enclosure around your hallowed seasons of retirement, to preserve them from intermption. To accomplish this, your times of secret de- votion should be so chosen, as not to interfere with other duties; 34 266 ON SPIRITUAL HABITS. I mean such duties as stated, social devotions, exercise, volunta- ry associations, and study. Your chief danger, probably, will be found under the last particular. For the sake of study, es- pecially when hard pressed, you will be liable sometimes to at- tempt a compromise with conscience, for the neglect of your closet. The Christian merchant, mechanic, or farmer, knows that such a compromise, for the sake of mere secular business, would be sinful ; but the Christian student, all whose business is sacred, may more easily fall into this temptation. Take care then that no pressure of study shall become an apology for omit- ting your regular devotions. Whenever you feel inclined to waver on this point, take care lest your spiritual habits be utter- ly supplanted. Think of Daniel, prime minister of Persia, with the affairs of one hundred and twenty provinces resting on his mind, yet finding time to go " into his chamber, three times a day, that he might pray and give thanks to God." Think of Alfred, encompassed with the cares of monarchy, of Luther, buffeted by the storms of Papal wrath, of Thornton, encompassed with a thousand mercantile engagements, yet never allowing the hurry of business to intrude on their regular hours of devotion. And you, in this consecrated retreat from the bustle of the world, you, provided with every facility for communion with God, — too busy to pray ! — Something then is wofully wrong, in your studies, or in yourself, or both. Too busy ! — Then forego your meals. Better starve your body, than your soul. Next to regularity in spiritual habits, I would urge consisten- cy. The most nutritious food would not preserve him in health, who should mingle with it daily, a little portion of some deadly drug. So the man who is regular in his devotions, but is ac- customed to violate his conscience in other things ;' such as re- missness in observing the sanctity of the sabbath ; — indulgence of colloquial habits, that cherish levity and frivolity of temper ; — unkind and censorious remarks respecting bis brethren ; — or any other practice that is decidedly wrong, may have some grace, perhaps, notwithstanding these inconsistencies, but he will not grow in grace. ON SPIRITUAL HABITS. 267 Vigilant and faithful self-inspection, is also indispensable. Without this you may be a backslider, and may have been so for months, and yet not be aware of your condition. Doubtless there is in our profession, from the peculiar relations which we sustain to those around us, a lamentable tendency to live upon some old hope, taking it for granted that we are Christians, without sufficient, daily evidence that it is so. In this way probably not a few, whose profession and business it has been to promote the salvation of others, will fail of salvation themselves. Constant vigilance too, is necessary to theological students, in sustaining their spiritual habits, from the fact that they have so much to do with the theory of religion, and the investigation of speculative difficulties ; that they study and talk about the Bible as a Class-book ; study for the ultimate benefit of others, not the direct benefit of themselves. Hence they are liable to rest in an intellectual religion in distinction from the simple pie- ty of plain Christians. Again, the success of a theological student in cultivating spir- itual habits, depends much on the helps to deifotional feelii^g which he employs. For this' end, besides the stated reading of the scriptures in the common version, which will be less likely than the originals to induce philological enquiries, I would urge the daily reading, more or less of the best devotional books, es- pecially those of the old Puritans. Let him also secure the aid of at least one devoted Christian brother, on whose fidelity and judgment he can rely, to warn han seasonably of any declension in his spiritual habits. I have room to glance only at one more particular ; as to the formation of spiritual habits, namely, the motives by which you are governed, in theological studies. Just so far as you " walk with God" in the closet, you will have an abiding sense of his presence through the day, controlling and sanctifying all your pursuits. You will feel your dependence on God, and study with a view to his glory, and thus will make such ar- rangement of duties, that your time will turn to the best ac- count. But if you neglect your closet, God will gradually be 268 PROGRESS IN STUDY. supplanted, in your affections, by undue regard to self. Some form of unhallowed ambition will gain possession of your heart, — will lead to undue reliance for usefulness, upon your own genius or acquisitions ; — and set up as the chief object of your studies, an ultimate regard to your own reputation, or interest, or influence, and not to the glory of God.* But I must proceed to the other branch of this Lecture, namely PROGRESS IN STUDY, ou wliich my remarks must be more ex- tended. As to the importance of intellectual acquisitions, for high use- fulness in the ministry, a just public sentiment has been gaining ground, within the last twenty years. Yet to this day, very in- adequate views on this subject are too prevalent. This appears from the fact that, in some parts of the country, there are in- * "The solidly-learned, the studious, and well-fwrnished man is but the unshapen mass from which the Christian Minister is formed. The plastic energy — the quickening influence of the Almighty Spirit is still needed to put light, life, and motion, into the inert substance ; to mould it into his image, and to make it a " vessel of honor, meet for the Mastei*'G use." Nor must it be denied, that these studious habits, to which we have attributed considerable unportance, are at- tended with proportionate temptations. Any enlargement of intellec- tual knowledge has a natural tendency to add fuel to the fire of our self-importance. The habit of study growing into a passion, may crave indulgence at the expense of conscience or propriety, by pre- occupying the time that belongs to duties of equal moment. Much, however, of ap[)rehended danger will be repelled by the regulation of a sound judgment, and a spiritual mind, in directing these studies to the main end of the ministry. A minister should remember that him- self with all his studies is consecrated to the service of the sanctuary. Let every thing be done therefore with a view to one great end. Let all the rest of our knowledge be like lines drawn from the vast circum- ference of universal nature, i)ointing to that divine centre, God and re- ligion."— Bridges. " Not to read or study at all, is to tempt God ; and to do nothing but study, is to forget the ministry ; to study, only to glory in one's knowledge is a shameful vanity : to study, in search of the means to flatter sinners, a deplorable prevarication ; but to store one's mind with the knowledge proper to the saints by study and by prayer, and to diffuse that knowledge in solid instructions, and practical exhorta- tions,— this is to be a prudent, zealous, and laborious Minister." QuESNEIi. PROGRESS IN STUDY, 269 Stances of young men, every year, who are licensed to preach, (and that by regular ecclesiastical bodies,) with very little theo- logical study, and some with almost no study of any sort.* Others, who engage in a regular course of study, are constantly tempted to cut it short, by the preposterous solicitations of min- isters who desire assistance ; by more or less of pecuniary em- barrassment ; and by a restless anxiety to enter their profession, whh the briefest preparation that usage will tolerate. It is a fact truly remarkable, that the oldest theological seminary in the country, is still the only one that has seen fit to take a decided stand on this subject, and to make the settled purpose of pursu- ing a three years' course of study, a condition of membership. The oldest Seminary of the Presbyterian church once stood on the same ground, but its Officers have long been struggling against an unpropitious current of public opinion, in the vain en- deavor to restore it to its original footing. With this state of things in view, I shall proceed to offer * Verum ad condones sacras admittiintur, interdum etiam assiliunt, adolescentes, leves, indocti, quasi nihil fit facilius, quam apud popiilum expoiiere Divinam scripturam, et abunde sufficiat perfi'icuisse faciem, et abstersa pudore, lingiiani volvere. Hoc malum ex eo fonte manat, quod non perpenditur, quid sit ecclesiastici concionatoris turn dignitas, tuui difficultas, turn utilitas. — Erasmus. The cursory perusal of a few books, is thought to be sufficient to make any man wise enough to be a Minister. And not a few under- take ordinarily to be teachers of others, who would scarcely be ad- mitted as tolerable disciples in a well ordered church. But there be- longeth more unto this wisdom, knowledge, and understanding than most men are aware of Were the nature of it duly considered, and withal the necessity of it to the Ministry of the Gospel, probably some would not so rush on the work as they do, which they have no pro- vision or ability for the performance of It is in brief, such a com- prehension of the scope and end of the Scripture; such an acquaint- ance with the system of particular doctrinal truths, in their rise, ten- dency, .and use; such an habit of mind in judging of spiritual things, and comparing them one with another ; such a distinct insight into the springs and course of the mystery of the love, grace, and will of God in Christ, as enables them in whom it is, to declare the counsel of God, to make known die way of life, of faith, and obedience unto others, and to instruct them in their whole duty to God and man therein. — OwE^•. 270 PROGRESS IN STUDY. some REMARKS ON THE IMPORTANCE OF ACQUIRED KNOWL- EDGE TO A THEOLOGICAL STUDENT, and then mention some HINDRANCES TO STUDY, wliich should be guarded against. In remarking on the first of these topics,* it is proper to say more distinctly than I have said above, that for some time past, the course of events has been such as to create a strong demand, and every year increases this demand, for higher and higher quahfications in the Ministry. The inquisitive, and enterprising, and intelHgent character of the age ; the resources of learning perverted by the advocates of error ; above all, the wide field of moral influence opening in our Western States, and the call for men to go to the heathen, who may be safely trusted in trans- lating the Bible, and laying Christian foundations for centuries to come ; — all these, and many other considerations have op- ened on the Church a new era, calling for augmented resources, in the moral and intellectual furniture of ministers. In accord- ance with these remarks, public sentiment has most distinctly declared itself, in the establishment of Theological Seminaries, and in the patronage they have received, from the most judi- cious men in the land. Before these measures were adopted, there had long been a gradual falling off from the ground occu- pied by the early fathers of our churches, many of whom were distinguished scholars, especially in the literature of the sacred writings. In urging the necessity of an extended course of theological study, nothing could be farther from my design, than to cast any reproach on those who, like myself, entered the Ministry, before the facilities which now exist for such a course of study, were provided. It is equally remote from my purpose to say, that every candidate for the Ministry, without regard to his age, and other circumstances, should pursue a three years' course of study in theology. But what I mean to say is, and the time in my opinion has come to say this very distinctly, that henceforward, * The reader is here apprised that the thoughts which follow under this head, have been already published by the author, in Volume V. of the Quarterly Register. PROGRESS IN STUDY. 271 such a course of study is short enough, as a general rule. If any one is providentially prevented from pursuing it, that should be submitted to, as his calamity. I am the more confident in my opinions on this subject from the fact, that during twenty-five years' experience, as an Instructor of theological students, nine- teen of which have been passed in my present relations, I have heard not a few young men lament their own haste in entering the ministry, but not an individual have I known to intimate that he had spent too much time in preparatory studies. But we must now drop this prefatory matter, and come to the main point, why a thorough intellectual preparation for the sa- cred office is necessary. When Paul says to Timothy that a bishop should not be a novice, there is a figurative allusion in the original word, that is very significant. Literally the expression is, " not an infant." It denotes that want of knowledge or skill which we see in a new born child, that would certainly fail of success, if set to ac- complish any work requiring the strength and intelligence of a man. There is a secondary sense too, that is scarcely less per- tinent. It refers to a tree or plant recently set in the earth, which has not had time to become rooted, and is easily disturbed by the wind or any external violence. The meaning is, that a Christian minister ought not only to be mature in religious ex- perience, but to have a sound, well furnished understanding. Both these requisites he needs, lest being inflated with pride, he fall into the condemnation of the devil. That stability of char- acter which can resist temptation, and qualify a man to be a guide in the church, must come from fixed religious opinions, grounded on a thorough acquantance with divine truth. The apostle, that he might be certainly understood on this subject, often exhorts Timothy to diligence in reading, and meditation, and study of the Scriptures, the great store-house of divine knowledge ; through which the minister might become furnished for his work. In remarking on this subject then, I would advance no theo- ries that are extravagant, none that are new, — none indeed that 272 PROGRESS IN STUDY. are not sanctioned by apostolic authority. Let any man (if in this age of Hght there is any man, who advocates the cause of clerical ignorance,) read the epistles to Timothy and Titus, and then answer this plain question ; — did a Teacher of religion, who had the gift of inspiration to understand the scriptures, and the gift of tongues to preach ; a Teacher too, born amid the scene- ry and customs described in the Bible, and familiar with the language in which important parts of it were written, — did he need the aid of study to qualify him for his work ? and can a man, who has not one of all these advantages, be qualified for the same work, without study ? How is he to know what is in the Bible, till he has studied the Bible ? and how can he study the Bible, so as to have, concerning what is peculiar in its lan- guage, local allusions and usages, the knowledge requisite for a public Teacher, without much reading of other books ? Does he claim to be an inspired man ? Let him stand forth and prove his inspiration by working a miracle. Just as well may his hearers claim to be inspired, so as to have no need of him, or of any one as a religious Teacher. Now the positions, which I would take to show the connex- ion between intellectual furniture and success in a minister, are these four ; — a man must have knowledge himself, before he can teach others ; — he must have capacity to learn, before he can acquire knowledge ; he must have time to learn ; and he must have instruction. The first is self-evident. The second admits no diversity of opinion, except as to the degree of native talent, which is necessary to a minister. Concerning this too, all will agree thus far, that the highest powers of genius may find ample scope in this work ; and that on the other hand, de- cided weakness of intellect is a disqualification. He that stands on middle ground, between these two limits, — he that has a fair average of native talent with other men, may, with a good heart and adequate culture, be a successful minister. Good sense he must have ; but brilliant powers are by no means indispensable. It is self-evident too, that he must have time to learn, before he can hope for success in his work. Common sense decides PROGRESS IN STUDY. 273 SO, in regard to all acquisitions, which are to be made by study. In the first schools of Europe, established for the two great pro- fessions, law and medicine, the period of study is three, four, and in some cases, ^t'e years, superadded to an academical ed- ucation. In the same dej)artments, three years of professional study is made a legal requisite, in different parts of our own country. But is the care of men's immortal interests a business, that demands less maturity of preparation, than that of their bod- ies or estates! Is the interpretation of the sacred oracles, and the preaching of the everlasting gospel, so trifling an affair, that it may be safely left to any novice, who chooses to undertake it ? Plainly, he cannot be a successful teacher in the church of God, who has not had tiine to learn. The knowledge that he needs is to be gained, not by intuition, not by inspiration, not by any "roy- al road," but by patient, long continued study. Solomon has told him all the secret of gaining this knowledge ; he must dig for it, as for hidden treasures.* Need I add that he must have instruction 1 The obvious necessity of this was felt by the fathers of New England, those pious and sagacious men, who founded colleges, with the prima- ry view of raising up an educated ministry, for their descendants. And to these wise provisions, men of like spirit have added the endowment of Tiieological Seminaries, that the sons of the * If knowledge is not to be despised, then it will follow that the means of obtaining it are not to be neglected, viz. stndy ; and that this is of great nse in order to a preparation for publicly instructing oth- ers. And though having the heart full of the powerful influences of the Spirit of God, may at some times enable persons to speak profitably, yea, very excellently without study, yet this will not warrant us need- lessly to cast ourselves down from the [)innacle of the temple, depend- ing ujion it, that the angel of the Lord will bear ns up, and keep us from dashing our f )ot against a stone, when there is another way to go down, though it be not so quick. — Edwards. How few read enough to stock their minds? and the mind is no widow's cruise, which fills with knowledge as fast as we empty it. Why should a Clergyman lal)or less than a barrister ? since in spirit- ual things, as well as temporal, it is " the hand of the diligent which maketh rich." — Bickersteth. 35 274 PROGRESS IN STUDY. church, instead of rushing self-taught into this work, might en- joy the best advantages of professional instruction. But it is said, " how can a young man of ardent piety spend year after year in preparatory study, while there are so few re- ligious Teachers, and so many destitute churches, and perishing sinners around him ? That young man ought to go at once to these starving souls with the bread of life." So, excellent men, and even ministers, have argued, and often remonstrated with the pious student, and perhaps have thrown him into seri- ous perplexity as to his own duty. Now to relieve this per- plexity, should he come to me for counsel, I would ask him, — Why did Christ delay the commencement of his ministry till he was thirty years of age ? Was he not as well qualified as you, to preach at twenty -five ? Were there no perishing sinners around him ? Was there no lack of ministers then to teach the way of God in truth ? Had you been in his place, you would have begun to preach, it seems, just so soon as you had happened to feel deeply the dreadful condition of sinners ; and would have summoned to your aid, not twelve apostles, but tivelve thousand. Are you then more wise than Christ ? more benevolent than Christ to the souls of men ? Besides, is a young man of course qualified to be a religious teacher, because he is ardently pious ? Then the wisest men, in every age, have been mistaken. Then Colleges, and Theo- logical Seminaries, and Education Societies, are a useless in- cumbrance to the world. But if preparation is necessary, God has decided that these vacant churches and perishing sinners must ivait, till the preparation is made by study, for it is not made now by miracles. And there is no hardship, on this sup- position more than on the other; if piety were all that the churches should desire in ministers ; still they must ivait for God to make pious men. For if all such men, who hope to enter the ministr}^, were taken from our Seminaries, and Colleges, and Academies too, and made preachers at once, the cry for more laborers would still come from every corner of the land. Still, some may urge by way of objection that facts, and the as- PROGRESS IN STUDY. 275 pects of Providence, are against this reasoning. Ministers have been very successful with but little study ; and the wants of the world are so urgent, that we must dispense with preparatory qualifications, except a good heart and good sense. That such men as John Newton and Thomas Scott have been a great blessing to the church, it were as idle to doubt, as it is, that their usefulness would have been far more eminent, with an adequate early education. But see what is the result, if you try the principle assumed in the objection by common sense. A man of capacity and integrity, is a farmer, a skilful farmer ; does it follow that, with all his good sense and knowl- edge of husbandry, he could manage a ship in a tempest? and if he should do it, would it therefore be safe to commit all con- cerns of navigation to farmers ? Another man is a skilful mer- chant, and knows the quality and price of every article he deals out to his customers ; is he therefore qualified to deal out medi- cines to the sick ? another is a skilful lawyer ; but give him the surgeon's knife, and call him to perform an operation ; are you sure that he would do it with success ? I need not wait for an answer to such inquiries. Then take this farmer, this merchant, this lawyer, and suppose each to be ardently pious, if you please ; and ask common sense whether he would, of course, be a successful preacher of the Gospel, or interpreter of the Bible ? If any one demands that I should tell more particularly, how deficiency in theological knowledge will hinder a preacher's suc- cess, 1 answer, — In the first place, his public instructions will fail to interest intelligent hearers. Some such hearers he will have, in this age of mental activity ; when reading and thinking are so customary, even among common men. Should they be satisfied for a few weeks or months, they will ultimately come to perceive, that his sermons are trite and feeble in thought. This result is quite certain, if he is only a connnon man, with common efforts. Or, in the second place, if he aims to retrieve the past defi- ciencies of his education, by great and special efforts in his pre- parations to preach, while at the same time, he sustains the 276 PROGRESS IN STUDY. great and various, and arduous duties of his office, he is a dead man ; he will sink into hopeless infirmity, or a premature grave. Or, in the third place, if he attempts to bring up all arrears, by incessant study, while he saves his life by neglect of pastoral duties, though he should become a tolerable preacher, he is a dead man in another respect ; there will be a sad failure in the amount of his usefulness. Facts are full of instruction on this subject. Not a few young men of bright promise, who might have become champi- ons of the truth, have been so impatient to hasten into the min- istry, that they have fatally blighted their own prospects ; and instead of attaining to distinguished success, have scarcely reached the point of mediocrity. The minister now, whose maxim is to expect little things, and attempt Uttle things, mis- takes the day in which he lives. What was knowledge in the thirteenth century, is ignorance now. What was energi/ then, is imbecility and siupiditij now. As was said in another case, it becomes not our sacred profession, in this period of intellectu- al progress, to remain like the ship that is moored to its station, only to mark the rapidity of the current that is sweeping by. Let the intelligence of the age outstrip us, and leave us behind, and religion would sink, with its teachers, into insignificance. Ignorance cannot wield this intelligence. Give to the Church a feeble ministry, and the world breaks from your hold ; your main spring of moral influence is gone. Would 30U then, gentlemen, become burning and shining lights in the church of God, study, indefatigable, systematic study is essential to the attainment of your object. All that remains, is to suggest some of the most common HINDRANCES TO SUCCESSFUL STUDY. The Jirst I shall mention is imperfect health. Every one of you ought to understand, without my aid, the importance of physical, to mental vigor. In the majority of cases, where there is a serious failure of health, the nrischief lies chiefly in the wrong habits of students. The man who is worn down with seven years of academical study, and has never learned the first PROGRESS IN STUDY. 277 elements of preserving health, or restoring it when impaired, is predisposed to break down under the continuance of severe mental application, live where he may. His first lesson is, not to presume for one day on sustaining sufficient health for study, without a rigid system of exercise. His second lesson is, so to understand and regard the i)owers of his own stomach, as not to swallow for food, in one minute, what may disable him for study a week. I cannot stay to multiply warnings on these points ; you may read them in many a pallid face, and many a premature grave, of those to whom warnings have been given in vain. I might here dwell on excess in quantity of food, — on neglect and indiscreet exposures, under what are termed common colds, in which three fourths of all pulmonary consumptions begin ; on late studies at night, occasioned by misguided zeal, or by such negligence in the proper season of study as drives a man to ex- treme efforts by the midnight lamp, to the ruin perhaps of his eyes, — perhaps of his digestive or pulmonary organs. A second hindrance to success in study arises from infelicity of intellectual habits. Some men have been students for years, but have not learned hoiv to study. They have not acquired the control of their minds, so as to concentrate their attention on one subject, at one time. But to sit at the table, while -the thoughts are at the ends of the earth, is not study. To sit at the table without thoughts, looking at the ceiling, in a listless reverie, is not study. A man may while away one half of his study hours in getting ready to study, — because his indolent mind dreads all intense application, or his truant mind has never been taught to come at his bidding, and bend itself to one thing in fixed attention. Strength, perhaps that mind may have, and sprightliness ; but it accomplishes nothing to any purpose, for want of discipline. Hence a man of respectable talents and character, may enter on a new term, or a new department of study, with a good plan, and good resolutions, which all become broken and virtually nugatory in one fortnight, through want of self-control, and constancy of purpose. 278 PROGRESS IN STUDY. A third and most important hindrance to study, is found In avocations. These may be intellectual, social, secular, and re- ligious. The grand aim of a theological student should be to at- tain substantial knowledge, appropriate to his own sacred work, and the power of communicating that knowledge. If you ask me then, how much time can he properly spend in reading works of taste, periodicals, and newspapers ? I answer, in gen- eral, no more than he can afford to spend on circumstantials and appendages to his main business ; and never so much as to un- settle his mind, or consume his proper time for solid study. Poetry of the higher class, such as Paradise Lost, is not indeed an avocation, as it is directly subsidiary to the study of oratory ; but to the reading of fiction, except very sparingly, there are, I think, insuperable objections, though I cannot state them now. As to social avocations, the liability to mistake among us, is not so great as to require any notice, except in two respects ; one is, the visiting of fellow students' rooms in study hours — a practice which, improper as it is, I suppose can never go to any extreme, as it must meet a prompt corrective in the public sen- timent of the Seminary. The other is, those occasional visits to friends, in other towns, which call away a student from his business here. In this case too, only a general rule can be es- tablished, namely, that such calls should be regulated not by caprice, but by Christian principle. The cases heretofore have not been numerous, in which a mistake on this point has amount- ed to serious injury ; in a few it has amounted to utter ruin, as to improvement in study. For secular avocations there can be no occasion here, except those little attentions to his own affairs, which are always the indispensable duty of every man. It is a principle settled by the Founders of the Seminary, while their unexampled munifi- cence provided its endowments, that no student shall sacrifice his time here for purposes of gain. And the sentiment of Fac- ulty and students has unitedly been, that the Seminary should not be made a place of merchandize in books or other things, beyond those small accommodations, which by the agency of PROORESS IN STUDY. 279 one student, he may render to his brethren, without serious in- fringement on his own time. Under the head o( religious avocations, I should wish to en- large, more than my Umits will allow. Perhaps there is no subject on which a conscientious, judicious student will more feel the need of advice, and none certainly on which it is more difficult for me to give advice than this. Often I have been asked, to what ex- tent is it best for students of the Seminary to be in the habit of attending religious meetings abroad ? Now, the temperament, the health, the intellectual and spiritual habits of different men are so various, that what would be a proper answer to one man would be very inappropriate to another. In general, cultivation of the heart and of the intellect are joint duties, neither of which can be properly forgotten by theological students. Oc- casional exceptions do not alter this principle. We wish to train up here none but revival men ; and every revival man may sometimes find special advantage in giving up an hour or a day of study, for the spiritual good of his own soul, and the souls of his fellow men. For this reason, among others, your Instructors have welcomed with devout gratitude to God, the recent effusions of his Spirit, on our churches, so adapted to ex- ert a sanctifying influence on young men preparing for the holy ministry ; and have regarded with special indulgence the repeat- ed wishes of individuals to be absent, for the sake of laboring in revivals, or witnessing their power. But doubtless, there are some due limits on this subject. At a protracted meeting in Andover, all our classical exercises are properly suspended. But another occurs six miles distant, another ten, another fifteen, in successive weeks. Shall the whole of us attend these? — or what proportion of us ? Clearly, to relinquish our exercises here from month to month, would not do. The Trustees, the public, our own consciences, would remonstrate. But for one half, or one fourth of us to be absent, virtually amounts to the same thing, as to the order and interest of classical exercises ; for they cannot go on unless both Instructors and students are in the Lecture Room. 280 PROGRESS IN STUDY. The same principle applies to the absences of individuals for the sake of attending monthly concerts, and other occasional re- ligious meetings, in neighboring towns, a thing which can be deemed proper, as a general rule, only when it can be done without losing any regular classical exercise. On the sahbath, too, the Laws require students to be here, as much as on other days ; and the habit of going abroad, on that day, to any consid- erable extent, would for very obvious reasons be inexpedient. There may be a hundred things, desirable in themselves to be done, which we cannot do. Your Instructors might find ur- gent reasons to be often absent, to visit friends, to attend ordina- tions, or councils, or other important occasions ; but our para- mount duty in term time, is to be here, with as few exceptions as possible. Just so you will often have calls abroad, in which your feelings are deeply interested, but which sober judgment will lead you to forego, rather than forego your main business. Discursive and protracted as my remarks have been, I must add several more. Let no one understand me as urging him to become a mere student, to the neglect of his duties as a man and a Christian. He who is ardent in the pursuit of knowledge, may gradually bring his mind to such a condition, as to feel quite absolved from the claims of relative duty, or of common civility ; having no time, as he thinks, to regulate his temper, his heart, and his manners, by the spirit of the gospel, and becoming, like him of old, " such a son of Belial that a man cannot speak to him." He may even form a habit so unhappy, as to feel his secret de- votions to be an intrusion on his studies, and to carry his classi- cal pursuits into the consecrated hours of the sabbath. Let no one understand me as urging intense and unremitted study, at the sacrifice of health. I say again, take w^arning from the pale faces, and the premature graves of those who have re- fused to take warning. You must have stated relaxation, and stated exercise. As far as possible, make your vacations, a re- al and not a nominal concern. Some students from pecuniary emergency, and some from a laudable desire of doing good, PROGRESS IN STUDY. 281 have committed themselves to such engagements for vacation, as to allow no remission of intellectual effort, and no opportuni- ty for seeing their friends, without encroaching a week or two on term time, for this purpose. No man can be justified in do- ing this violence to his constitution, except from the pressure of some dire necessity. Three men out of four, who do this, ask leave of absence, to refit their health, during the following term. In respect to avocations I have one general advice to give ; — cultivate the habit of doing every thing from religious prin- ciple, and every thing in its proper season. It is your duty to pray in your closet, — but not at the time of social prayer in the chapel. It is your duty to pray in your closet, but not when your class are assembled to meet their Instmctors, in the Lecture Room. It is your duty, as far as possible, to act on committees, and perform exercises assigned by voluntary associations of your brethren, but not within the time which you need for writing a sermon, or preparing for a Lecture. Regular, prescribed exev- cises have the frst claim on your time, and should never be thrust aside by incidental things. It should be a point of con- science with every member of this Seminary, for his own good, as well as in conformity with his own sacred promise at matri- culation, never to neglect these regular exercises, unless disa- bled by Providence. " I was detained by company,'' is some- times offered as a reason for such neglect, and it may be a good reason, very rarely ; but in my own case as a student, from twelve years of age through College, it never ojice was regard- ed by me, as a reason for such neglect ; — iiever once, lias it been so, in the nineteen years of my connexion with this Semi- nary. I spoke of conscience ; but doubtless you would be surprised, gentlemen, to be told that among our beloved family of young ministers, who have been, from year to year, training up under our eye, for the most sacred and exalted work on earth, there should have been any, to whom conscience seemed to be, prac- tically, a word of very small significance. Yet it is only the state- ment of a lamentable fact, that your Listructors have sometimes 36 282 PROGRESS IN STUDY. been grieved to the heart, by witnessing, in apparently good men, a strange insensibility to the binding force of obligations, in which a plain religious duty, combined perhaps with a sol- emn, voluntary engagement, has been forgotten, or explained away, with a facility altogether unaccountable. But the number of such cases has been comparatively small ; and I am happy to follow this statement, by another, which has been full of consolation to your Teachers, and which is full of instruction to you. Take the Catalogue of our Seminary, from the beginning, and mark the men, if you can, on that honored hst, who, since they left us, have been most distinguished for usefulness, as ministers and missionaries ; and also the men, — not a few, — who have been elected Presidents and Professors, in Colleges and Theological Seminaries ; — and then, remember, that those same men were distinguished iov 'punciuaJity, and in- dustry, and conscientious regard to order, when they were here. LECTURES ON PUBLIC PRAYER. LECTURE J. HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. Among the ancient Jews, prayer constituted an important part of the synagogue worship. The most solemn and formal of these were those called the eighteen prayers. To these, which are ascribed to Ezra, Rabbi Gamaliel is said to have added a nineteenth against the Christians. Three times a day, at the stated hour of prayer, all who were of age were required to repeat these prayers ; and on synagogue days, viz. Monday, Thursday, and Saturday, they were offered up, with great solemnity, in the public assemblies. Besides these nineteen prayers, the deliberate reading of which would occupy about ten minutes, others of a less formal kind vi^ere intermingled in their worship, and multiplied, till they gave to their Synagogue service, in the time of Christ, that undue length, with which he found fault. It seems too that this part of worship, among the Jews, degenerated into 284 HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. a superstitious and ostentatious formality, for which our Savior severely rebuked the Pharisees. So exact were they as to the external form of this service, that if it was inconvenient for them to join the public assembly at the synagogue, when the hour of prayer arrived, they dropped whatever they had in hand, and offered up their devotions in the open street or mar- ket place. This custom, however unseemly, still exists in Catholic, and even in Mahometan countries. ORDER OF PUBLIC PRAYER. In the primitive Christian church, the prayers, connected with reading the scriptures and singing, were so brief or so in- formal as scarcely to be noticed in the descriptions of public worship transmitted to us. All these descriptions agree in say- ing, that the regular season for the public prayers, was after sermon. To prevent mistake in the remarks which follow, it should be remembered that the Lord's Supper was administered in the primitive churches on every Sabbath. Between the sermon and the communion service, was the season of prayer ; which was offered, not in one continued address to God, but in successive addresses, adapted to the condition of different persons, who were usually, at least in the Eastern churches, divided in- to five classes ; viz. (1) The Catechumens, that is, hearers or enquirers who were especially desirous of receiving religious in- struction. (2) The Energumens, or persons supposed to be pos- sessed by evil spirits. (3) Candidates for baptism. (4) Pen- itents, or those who were under the discipline and censures of the church. And (5) Tlie Faithful, including all who were in regular standing as communicants. It seems probable that ex- cepting the most general distinction o^ catechumens and faithful, separate prayers for these classes were rather occasional than stated. But on this point and several others we are left in some uncertainty by the writers of that period. All these wri- ters, for example, agree in saying that the four first classes ORDER OF PUBLIC PRATER. 285 above mentioned, were sent away from the assemblies, before the communion service began. But whether each class was dismissed successively, when the prayer appropriated to them- selves was finished, or whether they were all dismissed togeth- er, before the communion service, seems doubtful, from the dif- ferent statements of Justin, Chrysostom, Augustine, Ambrose, and the " Apostolical Constitutions." Probably the usage of different churches varied somewhat in different places and cir- cumstances. But while the above four classes might not be present at the prayers peculiar to the Faithful, there was still another class called Hearers, including Jews and Infidels, who were sent away before any of the prayers began. The Deacon offered the first prayer for the Catechumens, because, as Chrysostom says, " they were viewed as yet aliens ; not having hberty or confidence to pray for themselves, but needing the help of those who are already initiated, or ingraft- ed, into Christ." This was followed by another prayer, from the minister, called the benediction of God, and closed by an audible response of Amen from the people. — Any cate- chumen, by falling into scandalous sin, was liable to be thrust down to the rank of a hearer only ; but after three years he might be permitted again to pray with the Catechumens. POSTURE IN PRAYER. Justin Martyr says that the people stood in prayer. Ac- cording to the Apostolic Constitutions, they were to Jcneel in the first prayer, for the Catechumens, and to stand in the second. Origen often closed his sermon with an exhortation to the peo- ple " to stand up and pray." In the Gallican churches, at a later period, kneeling was accounted the most becoming posture, though a majority of the people often continued standing. Both standing and kneeling were evidently thought proper, though standing was most common. It was a general custom to pray with the face directed towards 286 HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. the east. The various reasons which have been alleged for this custom, I might examine at length, but the enquiry would be rather curious than important. Having adverted to this subject under the history of the pulpit, I will only add, that in my opin- ion, all these reasons may be resolved into a misconstruction of a few figurative texts, where allusion is made to Christ as the " day-spring," — " the sun of righteousness," — " the light of the world," &c. and where he is supposed with no good reason, indeed, to be represented as coming to judgment from the east. Prob- ably, too, the superstition (for so it must be called,) of praying with the face eastward, might have had more connexion than the Christians were aware with the Pagan custom of worship- ping the rising sun. At least this is quite as supposable, as that the Christian sabbath itself, should have retained the name of Sunday, derived from the same Pagan 'origin. As to gesture in prayer, it need only be said that stretching forth the hands towards heaven, was a common attitude of supplication in the Jewish church, as it has been in all periods since. LENGTH OP PRAYERS. If I mistake not, the fact is quite observable in the history of the church, — '(though I am not aware that others have made the remark,) that where there is least of spirituality in religious worship, there is most of formality and undue length. In the Jewish church, the longest specimen of prayer that was record- ed, is that of Solomon at the dedication of the Temple ; and this, though on a great, public occasion, did not exceed six or eight minutes in length. But in later periods of that church, — when the spirit of religion declined, and external forms were sub- stituted for vital godliness, their prayers were protracted by " vain repetitions ;" — and they hoped to be heard " for their much speaking." So it was in the Christian church. — Nothing could exceed the simplicity with which our Savior, both by precept and ex- ample, taught his disciples to pray. But as the primitive sim- LENGTH OF PIIAYERS. 287 plicity of the gospel passed away, and the forms of devotion were again substituted for its iiovjtr, the external rites of wor- ship were extended, in number and length. In the time of Chrysostom, however, the whole service in public worship did not much exceed an hour ; so that prayers could not have oc- cupied more than fifteen or twenty minutes. The division of the assembly into different classes, and the adaptation of distinct prayers to each, whenever it was introduced, was clearly not of Apostolic origin ; though prescribed in what was called the Apostolic Constitutions, a work, to say the least, of very ques- tionable character, as to both authorship and antiquity. The form of prayer at the communion, as given in that work, is at least half an hour in length. All we can affirm with certainty is, that from the fifth to the tenth century, while the church was losing the spirit of piety, she was increasing in the ceremonies and formalities of worship. Clerical ambition, aiming at the debasement of the people, not only discouraged the study of the scriptures in private, but sus- pended the reading of them in public. At lengtli clerical indo- lence and ignorance gave up preaching too, and all public ex- position of the scriptures. The inferior clergy devoted the sea- sons of public worship to saying mass ; while the Pope and his Cardinals were engrossed with the management of state afi:airs. Thus, for many centuries, both in the Romish and the Greek church, the great business of the Christian ministry, namely, to preach the gospel, has been given up ; and, except so far as the spirit of the reformation has compelled these degenerate churches to a different course, deluded men have been led to place their hopes of heaven, not on their knowledge or love of the truth, but on the number and length of their prayers. PRAYING TO CHRIST, AND IN HIS NAME. Tliat this was a practice of the primitive church, authorised by Christ himself, is evident from the fact, that, while on earth, he commanded his disciples to pray to him, and in his name ; 288 HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. that he received worship with approhation ; that after his as- cension, Christians did worship him, as in the case of the dy- ing Stephen : that angels were commanded to worship him, as in the first chapter of Hebrews, — and did worship him, as in John's Apocalyptic vision of the worship in heaven. The letter of Pliny to Trajan, as is well known to every reader of history, furnishes testimony unquestionable, that it was the custom of the early Christians to offer worship to Christ, as God. In later periods, the proof is abundant, that it was cus- tomary among the fathers, sometimes to addregs a part or the whole of a prayer, directly to Christ. Especially was it the universal practice to mention Christ, as the object of divine honor, in the ascription at the close of prayer, — thus ; " For to thee belongs glory, honor, and adoration, and by thee to the Father, in the Holy Spirit, world without end." Again ; — " Through Christ our God and Saviour, by whom be glory and adoration unto thee, in the Holy Ghost, world without end." — TertuUian, plainly referring to the customary form of doxology to the Trinity, in the close of prayer, rebukes those who attend- ed the Roman games, by asking, — " How they could praise a gladiator, with the same mouth that had united in saying, tig aiojvag, world without end &fc. to Christ their God." The most customary form of doxology was, " Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost." Basil says, this form was used by Irenseus, Clemens, Eusebius, Ori- gen, &;c. — and that it was common in all the eastern and west- em churches. The occasion of Basil's saying this, in allusion to the Arian heresy, is important ; for it seems that another form of the doxology, " Glory be to the Father in or hy the Son, with the Holy Ghost," was occasionally used, but without any de- signed difference of meaning, till Alius adopted this latter form, to denote an inferiority of the Son and Holy Ghost to the Father. And from this time the more exact phraseology was carefully observed hy all who did not adhere to the Arian heresy. PRAYING FOR THE DEAD. TertuUian, in the third century, was the first who mentioned PRATERS FOR THE DEAD. 286 this practice. In the following ages it gradually gained ground ; for so enlightened a man as Augustine evidently fell in with this superstition. He not only speaks of the prayers offered for the soul of his mother, Monica, at her funeral ; but himself prays for her after death, " that her sins might be forgiven, and that she might rest in peace, with her husband." When we consider to what an absurd and impious pitch,^this superstition has since been carried, till not only the last mite of the peasant was extorted, but the revenues of princes were put in requisition, to purchase the prayers of a mercenary priest- hood, for the repose of the soul after death ; it may be proper to inquire briefly, hoiv a practice so plainly unscriptural, was in- troduced into Christian worship. So far as I am able to trace it, the process was substantially the following. 1. The pious example and hopeful death of distinguished Christians, were mentioned in prayer, as they still are, with great propriety, for the Lenejit of the living. And for the same reason, thanks were rendered to God for their holy lives, their triumph over death, and deliverance from sin and sorrow. 2. The transition from this general mention of departed saints, to a direct praying for their souls, was promoted by the co/Iot- eral influence of various opinions which obtained currency. For example ; many of the ancients believed the souls of the right- eous, between death and the judgment, to be in some place called Hades or Abraham's bosom, admitted to an imperfect happiness, and waiting, in a sort of probation, for a perfect and endless felicity. The degree of this ultimate felicity, however, they supposed would be modified by the character sustained in this intermediate state, which they regarded as an appen- dage or continuation of their earthly probation ; — their con- dition thus rendering them proper objects of prayer to the living. Coincident with this opinion was another, that in the millenni- um, Christ would personally reign with his saints on earth ; the pious dead being raised for this purpose ; and that a part in this 37 290 HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. first resurrection, was a blessing for which living Christians might pray in behalf of departed friends. 3. The movings of natural affection, combined with dark and indefinite views respecting hereafter, led to this practice. Death extinguishes the recollection of what was bad, and strengthens the fond remembrance of what was good and endearing in friends while they were living. Praying for them after death, there- fore, became among the ancient fathers, a kind of pagano — Christian testimony of love to their characters, and at the same time, of the fimiest belief in their immortality. I will only add that we have, in this case, a new demonstra- tion, from the monstrous doctrine of Popish purgatory, superin- duced on an error comparatively harmless at first, that a small deviation from the simple instructions of the Bible, may be fraught with immense dangers to the church. LECTURE II. USE OF LITURGIES. This part of the subject is properly divided into a question of authority and a question of expediency. The former only belongs to the history of prayer. In the primitive simplicity of the Jewish church, there is no evidence that its worship was conducted by forms ; though in its degeneracy, as I have already stated, such forms were introduced and greatly multiplied. Nor can it be alleged with any plausibility, that a litui'gy was prescribed by the authority of Christ, or sanctioned by primitive, apostolic usage in his church. Should any one pre- tend this, it were reasonable to demand of him ; — What has be- come of that liturgy ? Who of modem ages has seen it ? Who ever saw it ? It is quite incredible that such a document, had there been one, should not have been preserved, nor alluded to in the New Testament, nor in all the early history of the church. But it is said, Christ gave his disciples a form of prayer, called the Lord's prayer, and commanded them, " When ye pray, say 292 HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. — Our Father &;c." Did he then mean to restrict them, on every occasion, to the use of just so many, and just the same words 1 If not, there is no ground of controversy. If he did mean this, as some strenuous advocates for hturgies maintain, and must maintain, as essential to their argument from this case, then I ask, by what authority have bishops and councils them- selves departed so widely from this brief, simple form of words ? If I am sacredly restricted to the language of the " Lord's prayer," not two minutes in length, how could I in conscience, use a liturgy of human compilation, larger than the whole New Testament ? The truth is, the great Teacher only meant to give a standing example of what constitutes the proper spirit and subjects of prayer. So the Apostles understood this matter, as their own practice unquestionably shows. So the whole primi- tive church understood it. Augustine in his one hundred and twenty-first epistle says, — '' We are free to ask the same things that are desired in the Lord's prayer, aUis atque aJiis verbis, — sometimes in one manner of expression, sometimes in another." Whe7i and hoiv then, did Liturgies come into use ? I an- swer promptly, nothing of the kind, that is genuine, can be fixed upon for the first three hundred years after Christ. When the Arian and Pelagian doctrines began seriously to disturb the church, various forms of expression, occasioned by public con- troversy, gradually insinuated themselves into the language of prayer, and it was deemed necessary by the Council of Laodi- eea to require, by ecclesiastical regulations, that ministers, in- stead of using the liberty before enjoyed, should always keep to one form of prayer ; that is, should not pray, " pro arbitrio, sed semper easdem preces." This form, however, each minister might compose for himself, provided that, " before using it, he should consult with learned and experienced brethren." This reoulation was explained, as already in existence, by the Coun- cil of Carthage, A. D. 397. — About twenty years after this, that is 416, the council of Milan ordained, that none should use set forms of prayer, except such as were approved in a synod. USE OF LITURGIES. 293 The result of my inquiries on this subject is, a full conviction that no forms of prayer were prescribed by public authority till the fifth century. Before this, forms were used, at the op- tion of individual ministers. But TertuUian, speaking expressly of prayer, and of the LonVs prayer particularly, says, — " There are many things to be asked according to the various circum- stances of men.^' And again he says, — " Sine monitore, quia de pectore oramus ; " — ive pray luithout a monitor, (or set form) because toe pray from the heart." There is one other circumstance, rather incidentally mention- ed, but still, distinctly mentioned, by Clemens Alexandrinus and TertuUian which seems to me, quite decisive against the early use of liturgies. It is this, that the act of reading a prayer must employ both the hands and eyes of the reader ; — whereas these fathers say, " We pray with the head lifted up, and the hands stretched out, towards heaven." And Origen, in his treatise on prayer, maintains the necessi- ty of closing the eyes, to avoid the interruption of external ob- jects. In his treatise Contra Celsum too, he says that in prayer " we should close the eyes of the body and elevate those of the soul." Now it must have been a gift next to inspiration that should enable a man to read prayers, with his eyes shut, and his hands raised to heaven. It would be vain to say, that these forms were recited from memory ; for, besides that this was nev- er the practice of any church, ancient or modern. Bishop Bur- net has well said, that after superstition became prevalent, as in the eighth and ninth centuries, there were so many missals, breviaries, rituals, pontificals, graduals, antiphonals, psalteries, and a great many more ; that the understanding how to offi- ciate became a hard piece of trade, not to be learned without long practice. To perform this task by memory, was therefore clearly impracticable. I shall close this liistoric sketch, with a word respecting the English Liturgy. After the long night of superstition, as the day of the refor- 294 HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. mation davvned on the church, — it found the clergy too igno- rant to pray or preach, in a becoming manner. A book of hom- ilies was prepared to aid them in preaching ; and a book of prayers, to be read instead of both extemporary devotions, and the Romish hturgy. The Enghsh prayer book, however, was chiejiy compiled from the Romish, retaining the superstitions re- specting extreme unction, the real presence in the eucharist, praying for the dead, he. Three years after its first establish- ment, which was 1547, it underwent such a revision, as to exclude from it the above peculiarities of the Catholics. Sev- eral other changes in it were made, at different times, up to 1661, — but no authorised revision has since taken place.* * At a time v.heu the merits of the English Liturgy were discussed with much zeal and ability, Bishop Hall, in a forma! defence of it, made the following candid and catholic remai'ks : " Far be it fmm mo to dishearten any good Christian from the use of conceived prayer in his private devotions, and upon occasions also in public. I would hate to be guilty of pouring so much water upon the Spirit, to which I should gladly add oil rather. No, let the full soul freely pour out itself in gracious expressions of its holy thoughts into the bosom of the Almighty ; let both the sudden flaslies of our quick ejaculations, and the constant flames of our more fixed conceptions nioimt up from the altar of a zealous heart unto the throne of grace ; and if there be some stops or solecisms, in the fervent utterance of our private wants, these are so far from being ofl^ensive, that they are the most pleasing nuisic to the ears of that God imto whom our prayers come ; let them be broken oflf with sobs and sighs, and incongruities of our delivery, our good God is no otherways afl'ected to this imperfect elocution, than an indulgent parent is to the cli|)ped and broken lan- guage of his dear child, wiiich is more delightful to him than any oth- er's smooth oratory. This is not to be opposed in another, by any man that haih found the true operations of this grace, in himself. — What I have professed concerning conceived prayers is that which 1 have ever allowed, ever practised, both in private and public. God is a free Spirit, and so should ours be, in poiu-iug out our volimta- ry devotions upon all occasions ; nothing hinders but that this liberty and a public liturgy should be good friends, and go hand in hand to- gether ; and whosoever would forcibly separate rhcin, let them bear their own blame — the over-vigorous pressing of the liturgy, to the justling out of preaching or conceived prayers, was never intended either by the law-makers, or modei-ate governors of the church." ARGUMENTS FOR LITURGIES. 295 Having despatched the question as to authority in favor of liturgies, as derived from the Bible, or the usage of the church ; — we can hardly dismiss the topic of set forms in prayer, with- out looking at the other point which I mentioned, namely the question of expediency . The arguments in favor of liturgies, are summarily such as the following. 1. It is said if they are not enjoined in the Bible, still they are not prohibited ; but are at least allowable to those who think there are good reasons for using them. On this point there can be no dispute. It must denote great ignorance or prejudice in any one to say that God has forbidden forms. He has not legislated on this subject, one way or the other ; any more than he has determined in what language a minister shall pray ; — or what version of the Psalms shall be read ; — or what tunes shall be sung ; or whether the sermon shall be on a short text or a long one, — shall be a written or unwritten discourse. One man can preach well without a manuscript ; — another cannot preach at all, in this manner. One needs spectacles to read the Bible ; — to another, they would be an incumbrance. Every one, not troubled with an over scrupulous conscience, on things indifferent, will be satisfied with two maxims of Paul ; — " Let every one be persuaded in his own mind ;" and " Let all things be done decently and in order." 2. It is said that great irregularities and improprieties occur in extempore prayer, which are avoided by forms. It is certain that ignorance, affectation, eccentricity, or indiscreet zeal, may lead to sentiments and forms of expression, in prayer, chargea- ble with irreverence, if not absurdity. I suppose too, that all who have been accustomed to listen to extempore prayers, have sometimes been pained with embarrassment, and hesitation in the speaker ; or have known him turn aside from the proper business of devotion, to give a compliment or reproof to some one present. Well written forms may doubtless provide against irregularities arising from diffidence, unequal abilities in minis- 296 HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. ters, or uncertain frames, which vary with the caprice of cir- cumstances. 3. It is said, that the propriety of forms in prayer is virtually admitted, by all who use precomposed psalms or hymns, in their devotions ; these being in fact/orm-s of prayer and praise. The late Mr. Newton of London, who, though an Episcopalian, had as little bigotry as any other man, treats this grave subject in a strain of pleasantry ; " Crito freely will rehearse Forms of prayer and praise in verse ; Why should Crito then suppose, Forms are sinful when in prose ? " " I have heard," he adds, " of a minister, who used to com- pose hymns, 'pro re nata,^ in the pulpit, giving out one line, and then another, as the congregation proceeded in the singing. If I were persuaded, (he continues,) that forms are unlawful in prayer, and yet approved of singiiig in public worship, I should greatly covet the talent of extempore hymn-making, that I might maintain consistency in the whole service." It should be remarked, however, that this reasoning is rath- er specious than solid. For a hymn, as well as a tune, must be precomposed, or it could not be sung in concert by a choir. The same word, on the same note must be uttered at one breath by different voices ; to do which extempore, would be impossi- ble. But praying is not an art, in the same sense. Only one voice is heard ; and both thought and language, may be, and often should be really " yro re 7iata." If Mr. Newton had carried through his argument, and proposed that tunes should be composed extempore, and sung in concert, he must have seen its fallacy. On the other hand it is alleged against forms, and in favor of extempore prayers, 1. That forms are inconsistent with freedom and fervency in devotion. It is said that they tend to produce a dry, cold, ARGUMENTS AGAINST LITDRGIES. 297 formal mode of praying ; and that in fact a precomposed pray- er, even if ivriiten by a devout man for his own use, is readily distinguished by his fellow worshippers from a prayer that comes at the moment warm from the heart. Accordingly it is said by one accustomed to both modes of worship in England, " I never saw any Dissenting congregation appear half so irreverent and unaffected in prayer, as I have seen thooC who attend the ser- vice of the Established church." 2. Extemporary prayer is not necessarily nor commonly ex- travagant in manner. For the few cases of this sort that can be named, at least among educated ministers, there is a great coun- terbalance of those whose prayers are characterized by perti- nence, propriety, and solemnity. And why should it be other- wise ? when, as Baxter says, " Any man, if he is hungry, can beg for bread ; or if he needs it, ask help of a physician, or lawyer, or landlord, as well without a studied form as with it. A very child, if he sees but a pedlar's pack opened, where there are abundance of things which he desireth, will learn without book to say, O father, give me this, and give me that. So will the soul that seeth the treasures of Christ. He that knoweth God and his works, and knoweth his own sins and wants, is acquaint- ed with the best prayer-hook^ 3. No set of forms can be framed sufficiently various, to cor- respond with the endless diversity of circumstances, in which men are placed. The attempt to regulate the social intercourse of men in this way would be deemed preposterous. How could a man maintain an argument, or despatch his business in market, or converse with his friend, if he must know beforehand every word that is to be spoken ? How could the concerns of a fam- ily be conducted in this manner, for a single day? And why should men, in expressing their desires to their father in heaven, forbear to vary their language, with changing circumstances ? So inconsistent are set forms with the free out-pouring of the heart before God, that they must greatly tend to damp the spir- it of real prayer. It is difficult to conceive how social prayer 38 298 HISTORY OF PUBLIC PRAYER. meetings, in a revival of religion, could be conducted by a book of forms. Should such an experiment be made, doubtless the revival would die, or the prayer book be laid aside. I pre- sume that even in families, this restricted use of forms has a de- cided tendency to destroy the spirit, if not ultimately the form itself of devotion. Accordingly, it is probable that in three fourths of the families of Christendom, that have daily family prayer, it is performed without book. 4. There is, on the whole, more danger of embarrassment, in praying by forms, than without them. What if the dim- sighted minister should at the moment of commencing his book-prayer, lose his spectacles ? Job Orton says, " I have sometimes felt pain, at the hesitations of Dissenting ministers, but much more at the blunders of those who read prayers." He then speaks of being at a funeral, where the officiating clergyman was a most devout minister, who had read the bu- rial service about one hundred times a year for forty years suc- cessively. Yet he says, " The candles held at the grave, being almost blown out, this worthy man could not, or would not repeat without book, the two last Collects, but blundered in the most painful manner." Bishop Patrick was eminent, when young, for fervor in prayer. When advanced in age, he visited an old Dissent- ing friend, and was requested to lead in family devotions. But having long been accustomed to forms, he was so em- barrassed, that he rose from his kness, with an apology to the family ; and received from his friend this plain rebuke, " You have made a sad exchange for your lawn sleeves and mitre." Baxter says, " the man who has neglected to walk, till he has lost the use of his legs, is in a bad condition, if his coach and crutches are taken from him." The foregoing remarks on the history of public prayer, and the use of liturgies, seemed to demand a place, in discus- sing a subject which has been much controverted, and which should be once at least, examined by every man who is entering on the solemn, official duties of the ministry. LECTURE III. GENEBAL DIRECTIONS. We come now to a much more important view of the subject, the proper performance of public prayer, as a duty devolved on the Christian minister. And here I shall follow the course of my own thoughts, and under several heads of advice, offer you such remarks as have been suggested to my observation, during my own expe- rience in the sacred office. 1. Remember that, your amount of usefulness in the MINISTRY, depends IN NO SMALL MEASURE ON THE CHARAC- TER OF YOUR PUBLIC PRAYERS. Thcsc will liavc an important influence on your success in preaching. If you should fall into the habit of supposing that nearly all your work in the pulpit consists in delivering good sermons, you will make a serious mistake. Preaching is only the means of religion ; prayer is a part of religion itself No office, in which a mere man can be employed, is so elevated and awful as that of him who is the organ of a whole assembly, in address- ing their supplications to God. In preaching he speaks for God to men ; in prayer, for men to God. But with what hope 300 GENERAL DIRECTIONS* of success does he 'preach, unless God bestow his blessing ? In vain might an Apostle or an angel, deliver the messages of heaven, to men dead in trespasses and sins, unless the truth is accompanied by the divine and sanctifying efficacy of the Holy Spirit. But this gracious influence is given in answer to prayer; and the prayer that is to bring down this blessing on a congre- gation, is offered by that congregation, through the lips of the very man who knows, and acknowledges in the act of prayer, that all his other services will be utterly fruitless without suc- cess in this. When the devotions of the sanctuary have their proper ef- fect, they prepare the hearers to listen with deep and solemn interest to the instructions delivered from the pulpit. Just so far as the prayer, in which they have joined, has brought them to feel the impressions of a present God, in the Sanctuary, and the eternal retributions to which they are going, their minds are divested of listlessness, and prejudice, and fastidious criticism, and they will hear a sermon with candor and humility. Besides, — what is it that gives a sermon power over the hearts of the hearers ? It is a solemn persuasion that the preach- er himself is deeply impressed, with the everlasting importance of the truths which he delivers. But how shall they be thus persuaded, unless the thing is a reality ? And how shall the minister deeply feel the weight of truth in his sermon, if his heart has been cold, in preparing that sermon, — and cold in the de- votional exercises that have gone before it ?* That heart * Tlie following form was drawn up by Dr. Doddridge in his youn- ger years, and prefixed to his book of hints on skeletons of Sermons. "Blessed God ! It is tlioii that gavest me a rational soul, and up- on thee do I depend entirely for the continuance of those capacities with whicli thou hast endowed me. I am not sufficient of myself, so much as to think any thing as I ought, but all my sufficiency is of thee. " I am now engaging in a work of singular importance, in which I woidd desire to be sensible of the need I have of thy gracious as- sistance. I beg thou wilt command my attention to the affiiir before me. May no vain or intruding thoughts break in upon me, to hinder a steady application to my business. Direct my mind to proper GENERAL DIRECTIONS. 301 wliich slumbers in speaking to God, and wakes up in speaking to men, has but a false and factitious warmth, which in its influ- ence on other hearts, is totally different from the genuine glow of religious feeling. There may be reasons why a man should be fervent in his devotions, and yet fail of delivering an interest- ing sermon. But the converse is a much more rare occurrence, namely, that the hearers are disappointed by an impressive and powerful sermon, from the same lips that had just uttered a dull and formal prayer. If you would be a successful preacher, you must not fail essentially, in public prayers. 2. If you would pray well in public, you must be a de- vout MAN. This is by far the most important advice that be- longs to the subject ; indeed if this one point is attained, all other directions are comparatively needless. The habit of a man's piety is every thing as to his devotional performances in the pulpit. To expect that he will be fervent in these, if he neglects communion with God from day to day, is just as unrea- sonable as to expect that the racer will win the prize on the day of trial, if his limbs are crippled by want of exercise, every oth- er day of the year. thoughts, and to the most agreeahlc manner of arranging and ex- pressing them. And may my heart he inflamed with pious affec- tions ; that divine trutiis coming warm from my own soul may more easily penetrate into the souls of my hearers. May I rememher that I am not to compose an harangue to acquire to myself the reputa- tion of an eloquent orator ; but that I am preparing food for precious and innnortal souls, and dispensing that sacred gospel which my Redeemer brought from heaven, and sealed with his lilood. May I therefore sincerely endeavor to give my discourse the most useful turn ; and do thou direct me so to form it, as best to promote the great pm-pose of Christian edification. " And grant, O Lord, that I may receive present refreshment to myself, and fiuure edification from the study of those divine truths 1 am entering upon ; and may tliis !)e one of the most delightful em- ployments of my life. While I am watering others n)ay I be water- ed myself also, and bring forth daily more and more fruit, ]iro|)or- tionable to the advantages which I enjoy, to the glory of thy great name, and the improvement of my everlasting felicity, through Jesus Christ. Amen." 302 GENERAL DIRECTIONS. If you should say, " I know full well that to pray in public with comfort to myself or edification to others, I must maintain the habit of devotional feeling ; but how am I to do this?" I answer, do it as you would advise any plain Christian to do the same thing. There are the same laws both of animal and spir- itual life for a minister, as for another man. To sustain his bod- ily powers he must breathe, and eat, and sleep, and exercise, as well as his neighbor. To keep alive the spirit of piety in his own soul, he must adopt the same means that would be proper for his neighbor, in aiming at the same end. What these are, you could easily tell a friend, who should ask your advice. Do then as you would direct him to do. " Thou that teachest an- other, teachest thou not thyself? " Make it a point of conscience then to be serious, earnest, and stated in your secret devotions. I say serious and earnest; — for of all the dangerous experiments by which a man might try to harden his own heart, none probably would be more fatally successful, than to maintain secret prayer as a mere form. The heart that is accustomed to sleep or trifle, in its solemn approach- es to God, may well be expected to find apology for its insensi- bility, or its irreverence, in any other religious service. I say stated ; for, as I have already remarked, in another part of these Lectures, on the duty of cultivating spiritual habits, — men who have carried their attainments in experimental religion, to the highest pitch, have found it indispensable to maintain regularity, in their seasons of private devotion. Consult any deeply experimental writer on this subject, like Flavel or Howe ; — ask any devout Christian, and you will find but one senti- ment. There is but one among ourselves ; — for let me repeat the fact here, that when I have put this question, in private conversa- tions as I have often done, to members of our Seminary ; " How far have you found the spirit of your secret devotions, to depend on regularity, as to times set apart for the purpose ? " — the almost unanimous answer has been, " I can do nothing in the duties of the closet without regularity ^ Let no pressure of study or business intrude on your GENERAL DIRECTIONS. 303 closet. Forego your meals rather than your devotions ; — that will give you a meagre body, but this, leanness of soul. At the same time, think it not enough, if you should withstand the enemy, that would drive you from the closet, while yet you suffer that enemy to rush with you into it. Je- rome says ' the heart never does its work well, when preoccu- pied with other things.' I will add that the spiritual habits of the soul must be consistent. The man who should live on a regular and salutary diet, and yet take a small dose of poison daily, v^ould carry a sickly countenance. And he who is exact in his seasons of prayer, and yet violates his conscience in some other point of duty, will not grow in communion with God. After all your pains to cultivate a habit of devotional feeling, should you sometimes find, (as doubtless you may, through bod- ily infirmity, and other causes,) a sluggish spirit in public prayer, mourn over it, and strive against it. Search for the causes of such a state, and avoid them. Call that heart to account, that dares to slumber in its solemn approaches to Jehovah. When you stand up to pray in the sanctuary, remember that the im- mortal interests of a whole assembly, are to be carried before God ; that you are to ask at his hands infinite blessings, with- out which, they and you are lost forever. Pray, as becomes a dying man. Pray, as becomes a minister of the gospel, sur- rounded by dying men, who are hastening to the judgment. Pray, as one that sees heaven open, and hell without a covering, — and the- Son of Man sitting on the throne of his glory, and all nations gathered before him. Pray, as one that has been ac- customed to pray in the closet ; as one that has often mourned for sin in secret, and looked to the bloody scene of Calvary, to an atoning and interceding Redeemer, and a sanctifying Spirit, for help. I proceed now to other directions in which my remarks will be more various. 3. Let the matter of your prayers correspond to circum- stances, AND TO THE OBJECTS FOR WHICH YOU PRAY. 304 GENERAL DIRECTIONS. I speak not here of prayers strictly occasional, which will be noticed in another place. But I refer especially to those prayers which constitute a considerable part of public worship, and which in modern churches precede the delivery of sermons. Now I apprehend there is no point in which intelligent Chris- tians so often feel a deficiency in the public prayers of minis- ters, as in want of matter. To guard against this deficiency, consider that, in most of these prayers, the requests to be offered, are suggested in part, by the circumstances of an assembly, con- vened on the day set apart for the public, solemn worship of God, in the sanctuary ; — an assembly of sinners too, convened to be instructed from the oracles of God, respecting their duty to him, their own character, and the way of salvation. Such an assembly, met for such a purpose, in such circumstances ; — embracing all varieties of moral condition, from the hardened unbeliever, to the mature Christian, standing on the threshold of heaven ; and all these, dying men, and destined to an eternal hereafter ; — such an assembly have various, solemn, urgent wants to be presented before the mercy seat. To some of these individuals, the present season of prayer, may be the last that will be granted. Others may live many years, and their lives, in a thousand ways, be connected with the interests of their country and the church of God. I glance at these topics to show, that the range of matter for public prayer is boundless. In this exercise you are not con- fined, as in a sermon, to one subject, but ought to touch on many. With a warm heart therefore and a tolerable readiness of utterance, you need not be dry and barren. As a farther security on this head, I advise you to make the proper subjects of prayer, a business of serious reflection. Go, first of all, to the Bible, the great storehouse of devotional thoughts ; and next, to such spiritual writers as Flavel, Owen, Baxter, Watts, and, (instar omnium, for this purpose,) Henry. 4. Your METHOD should exhibit a proper connexion and TRANSITION, in the parts of prayer, — yet without studied form- ality. A solemn petition to a human magistrate, would not be GENERAL DIRECTIONS. 305 respectful without order. A solemn address to God especially, ought not to be a rhapsody, made up of incoherent thoughts. Something of order and connexion is indispensable also to pre- vent vacuity of matter, repetition, confusion and undue length. Indeed no man of sense can speak, on any occasion, without more or less of method in his thoughts. It is generally best for young preachers to have some regard to the usual arrangement, viz. — In vocation, Confession, Petition, Intercession, and Thanks- giving. So much at least is true, that the principal prayer, on the sabbath, could not properly begin with supplications for ru- lers, or missionaries, or the heathen. Nor can the different sub- jects of prayer be intermingled by a continual alternation. Yet, while the desultory habit, of speaking on at random, which some men contract, is undesirable, a rigid uniformity of method is not expedient. The flow of the heart, though somewhat irregular, is far better than a mechanical exactness. " It is possible," says the pious Newton, " to learn to pray by rule ; but it is hardly possible to do so with acceptance and benefit to others. The studied addresses with which some approach the throne of grace, remind us of a stranger's coming to a great man's door. He knocks and waits, sends in his name, and goes through a course of ceremony, before he gains admittance ; while a child of the family uses no ceremony at all, but enters freely, because he is at home." Orton says that while he thinks premeditation to be proper as to the general drift of prayer, he had for many years left off the exact attention to method, which he used to practise ; endeavoring only to have his mind, before engaging in the exercise, deeply impressed with the solemn truths of re- ligion. The same course, he says, was adopted by Dr. Scott, one of the wisest and devoutest men of his acquaintance. 5. Your LANGUAGE in prayer should be adapted to the SOLEMNITY OF DEVOTION. It should posscss, in the fii'st place, simplicity. It scarcely need be said that I do not mean vulgar- ity. On the bad taste, and even irreverence of mingling loiv words, and low colloquial phrases, in a solemn address to God, 39 .306 GK.XERAL DIRECTIONS. I shall presume that no cautions are necessary.* There is an- other danger to which I do not say educated, but AoZ/'-educated men, are much more liable, and from which very respectable ministers are not wholly free ; I mean the ostentation of a learned phraseology. Sometimes this appears in long and sounding words ; sometimes in elegant structure of sentences ; sometimes in vivid rhetorical figures. Avoid poetical prayers. In one instance I heard a stanza, from Watts' version of the one hundred and thirty-ninth Psalm, repeated verbatim in prayer. In another case, I heard one of the obscurest lines in Young's Night Thoughts, quoted in the same manner, and that by a minister of a large, city congrega- tion. ,^^0f committing yourselves such glaring improprieties, I trust you are in no danger ; but the spirit of devotion will flag, just in proportion as you study rotundity and cadence, or display of imagination. Avoid scholastic exactness. It is a real fault to violate gram- mar in prayer ; but a much greater one, to speak to your Ma- ker in such a kind of air, as to remind your fellow worshippers, continually, that you have not only studied syntax, but are fa- miliar with the canons of rhetoric. The sacrifices of God are not pomp nor accuracy of language, but a " broken spirit." It is remarkable how little of starch, or display of any sort, it takes to spoil a prayer. But simplicity is not enough ; there must, in the second place, be fervor too. The language of devotion should be a pouring out of the heart to God, and not a discourse to men. The man who *TJii3 is left just as it was written, when the Lecture was com- posed. Before that time J had heard of extreme cases, in which ig- norant fanatics liad outra<;cd all decorum, by rustic vulgarity oflan- t^uage, in addresses to God. Since that time, however, facts have come to my knowledge, showing that I was not autliorised to pre- sume all admonition unnecessary on this subject, to men sustaining a regular standing in the ministry. There is a class of men, who carry what they call importunity in ]n-ayer, to that degree of impudence, and coarse effrontery of language, which is distressing to every hiuuble and devout worshipper. GENERAL DIRECTIONS. 307 deeply feels his own guilt as a sinner, and the infinite value of the blessings which he comes before God to ask, will of course be earnest in his supplications. The breathings of such a soul, in communion with God, will exhibit the warmth of pious feeling, in the direct language of confession, petition, or praise. I say direct language, for good men are sometimes so didactic in prayer, that they seem to be instructing their Maker, rather than asking blessings from him. Or if they mean to give in- struction to their fellow worshippers, they forget that the proper place for this is the sermon, and not the prayer. The didactic manner in prayer, often arises from mere want of skill or taste, in the form of expression employed. A man sometimes says, for example, — " Our life is short, our work is great, — we know not what a day may bring forth ; " — " teach us then so to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." But thoughts which are no part of a petition, and on- ly incidental to it, should be expressed not in the didactic or affirmative, but in the incidental way ; thus, — " While we are so often admonished that our time is short, and our work great, and while we know not what a day may bring forth, — teach us so to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." Now the "surest method of avoiding all the defects in ex- pression, to which I have just alluded, is to make a free use of scriptural phraseology. This has important advantages over any language of our own. It is familiar to all ; it inspires reverence ; it bears repetition, without becoming trite or tedious. Addison, whose taste deserves much respect, on such a subject, says ; " There is a certain coldness in the phrases of European lan- guages, compared with the oriental forms of speech. The En- glish tongue has received innumerable improvements from an infusion of Hebraisms, derived out of the practical passages in holy writ. They warm and animate our language, give it force and energy, and convey our thoughts in ardent and intense phrases. There is something in this kind of diction, that often sets the mind in a flame, and makes our hearts burn within us. 308 GENERAL DIRECTIONS. How cold and dead is a prayer composed in the most elegant forms of speech, when it is not heightened by that solemnity of phrase which may be drawn from the sacred writings." But while every preacher should aim at this invaluable excel- lence, it by no means follows that every part of the scriptures may be properly wrought into the language of prayer. Pious ministers often err here, through want of discrimination ; and cite passages so oriental in cast, so darkly metaphorical, or for other reasons so obscure, as to convey no meaning to common minds. Instead of multiplying examples, as might easily be done, — I would simply ask, what does a congregation suppose a minister to mean, and what does he mean, when he prays for " the blessings of the upper and the nether springs?" When he prays that the heathen may " cast away their idols," — the petition is quite intelligible ; but when he adds to it, that they may " cast them to the moles and to the bats," what is he sup- posed to mean ? and what does he mean ? What does he mean, when he prays that we may be kept from " sacrificing to our own net and drag ? " There is another fault in using scriptural language when we pray, which consists in such a mutilation of this language, as is sometimes called ministerial scripture. A few examples of this sort, may stand instead of a complete enumeration of the pas- sages referred to. " Hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it," is turned into, " Kiss the rod, and him that hath appointed it," a phrase nowhere in the Bible. " Prone to sin as the sparks fly upward," is used for " born to trouble as the sparks fly upward." " Exalted to heaven, in point of privilege," is another example. " In many things we all offend, and in all things come short of the glory of God," is another^ Paul's words respecting the resurrection of the body, are often violently wrested, by being applied to a preached word ; '' It is sown in weakness, may it be raised in power." 6. Next to language, in prayer, I ivill remarJc briefly on ex- ternal MANNER, INCLUDING COUNTENANCE, ATTITUDE AND VOICE. GENERAL DIRECTIONS. 309 The expression of the face should be tranquil and placid, in distinction from that distortion of features, which indicates men- tal perturbation or distress. The eyes should be closed. The reason for this, as already cited from Origen, is one of universal application, namely, the interruption of devotional feeling, arising from various objects that must meet the eye, if it is open. In the only case, in which I have seen a preacher carelessly sur- veying his audience, while repeating a memoriter prayer, there was something inexpressibly revolting to my feelings. Another kind of pain I have more frequently experienced in this case, from observing the fixed, paralytic glare, or the spasmodic vi- bration of the half-closed eye. The body should be erect, without any of the violent writh- ings practised by the Turks, and by some Christian fanatics, in their devotions. The hands should generally recline on the pul- pit, with no other motion than such as denotes gravity and hu- mility. In earnest prayer, they are sometimes spontaneously folded on the breast, or elevated and inverted. In Jewish and oriental phraseology, as I before said, " lifting up of the hands " — is synonymous with prayer. The voice should be in its natural or middle key ; — not so high as to endanger its breaking ; nor so low as to frustrate ar- ticulation and variety. Let the quantity of voice in prayer be such as to fill the place in which you are. " The end of speak- ing is to he heard.^' If you fail of this, you might better be si- lent. If you are heard imperfectly, you will be heard with im- patience. The extreme of vociferation, is however a still greater fault, especially in the beginning of prayer ; — because it denotes want of reverence, or at least of that religious sensibility, which is the best guide to propriety in manner. But all direc- tions must be useless to a man who does not instinctively feel, that the loudness in prayer, which may be necessary in a spacious church, would startle and stun the hearers, if used in family de- votions, or at a common meal. I would say the same thing concerning inflections of voice ; for if a man does not instinctively feel the difference that is 310 GENERAL DIRECTIONS. called for, between the intonations of prayer, and those which are proper in telling a story, or making a bargain, nothing that I could say would instruct him on the subject. One remark however on cadence is important. While a de- votional exercise does not require nor allow that variety of em- phasis and inflection, which belongs to other branches of rhe- torical delivery, especially the colloquial, your manner will cer- tainly be heavy, if you utter yourself in short sentences, each of which begins with a full explosion of sound, and is closed with a cadence that is low, uniformly terminating on the same note. Avoid this habit ; — and I have no advice to add, respecting voice, only that your articulation be clear, your rate deliberate, and your whole pronunciation, grave, solemn, and earnest. LECTURE IV. FAULTS IN PRAYER. Various faults in prayer, which hardly fall under any of the foregoing heads, require some notice, and I here arrange them together, that they may not seem to be overlooked. These I preface with the general remark, that whatever faults belong to the public prayers of a minister, they are not only less likely to be known to himself than to other men, but less likely to be known to himself, than other faults of his own. Aside from the insensible influence of habit, on which I am to re- mark immediately, there is a sacredness and delicacy about this subject which repels criticism. 1 . The fast fault to be mentioned, is an improper habit as TO LENGTH, in prai/ev. I speak of habit, because its influence becomes specially important in an exercise where the mind is supposed to be absorbed in elevated thought, and therefore to be less capable of adjusting its movements to definite limits than in common cases. Be the reason what it may, (and I presume the above is the true reason,) the fact is beyond doubt, that no inan is conscious of his own length in prayer. I have known 312 FAULTS IN PRATKR. very respectable ministers, who, after repeated admonition, and serious resolutions, on this point, have still exceeded, by one third, or one half, the time which they prescribed to themselves. The consequence of this fact is another, that we are more likely as a general thing, to err on the side of length, than on that of brevity. To fix on the proper limits, either for a sermon or prayer, some respect must be had to usage in a congregation. To fall much short of the customary length, sometimes revolts the feelings of the best people ; to go much beyond this, may produce weariness and impatience. A prayer before sernion may vary from ten to twelve or fifteen minutes ; but should never extend to thirty or forty, as has often been the case, in this coun- try, and in England. Orton, in his Letters to a young Clergy- man, says, that — " Many pious souls complain of it, as an im- practicable thing, especially for the infirm and the aged, to keep their attention fixed for half an hour or longer ; and that some ministers, whom he has known to pray full forty minutes, have spoiled rather than promoted the devotions of their own people, besides exciting in others a prejudice against extemporary prayer." — Whitefield rebuked a brother for the same fault, by saying — " You prayed me into a good frame, and you prayed me out of it." John Newton, who daily breathed the atmosphere of heaven, said, " The chief fault of some good prayers is, that they are too long ; — not that we should pray by the clock ; but it is bet- ter the hearers should wish the prayer had been longer, than spend half the time in wishing it were over. There are doubt- less seasons when the -Lord favors those who pray, with a " wrestling spirit," so that they hardly know how to leave off. They who join in these prayers are seldom wearied. But it sometimes happens, that we spin out our time to the gi'eatest length, when we have in reality the least to say." In confir- mation of this last remark, I add a similar one from the late Rev. Jeremiah Hallock, of Connecticut, — whom I used to think more like Jesus Christ than any other minister of my acquaintance. He once said to me, in a revival of religion, — " I do my FAULTS IN PRAYER. 313 errand at the throne of grace, the most directly, when I have the best spirit of prayer." It were httle to our purpose, on such a subject, to quote the opinions of men to whom prayer is always a burden ; but the judgment of hohj men, who were ripe for heaven while on earth, may well deserve our regard. The most general precaution against undue length, is, to re- member that you are never called on any one occasion to men- tion all the topics of prayer. Some you must omit at one time, and some at another ; while many that are mentioned, can have but a passing notice. Avoid, especially, great particularity, in dwelling on the cases of individuals and families who request public prayers. The prayer after sermon may differ in length from two to three or four minutes. 2. Another of the faults, ivhich I shall mention, consists in the FREQUENT RECURRENCE OF FAVORITE WORDS AND SET FORMS OF EXPRESSION. Namcs and titles of God, with epi- thets referring to his attributes, as almighty, merciful, holy, glorious he. are repeated in some prayers so needlessly, and so often, as to be divested not only of solemnity, but of signifi- cance. If the word Jehovah might not be spoken by a Jew, without prostration, it is at least irreverent in us, to repeat it in every sentence, as a careless expletive. " Though this is not," as Newton says, " taking the name of God in vain, in the usual sense of the phrase, it is a great impropriety." Another form of the same fault consists in a constant recur- rence of such phrases as, " We beseech thee," — " We pray thee," he. — instead of expressing the petition directly, without any prefatory clause. The great infelicity of this habit is, that it apparently aims to provide in each sentence, a resting place for the mind, while it reflects on what shall follow. The con- sequence is, that the speaker has an apparent and commonly a real hesitation, instead of that freedom and fluency, which give interest to devotion. And this difficulty is apt to be exactly proportioned to the length of these interjected clauses. If the mind of the speaker rests, while the tongue says, " We pray 40 •314 FAULTS IN PRAYER. ^Aee," — the remainder of the sentence may perhaps go on without a break ; but if the mind rests, very often, while the tongue repeats a long periphrastic clause, such as ; — " We humbly beseech thee, most merciful God,'''' — ^both mind and tongue , probably, will make a perceptible stop, at the end of this clause. The sensa- tion of languor is unavoidable in an assembly, if a quarter of the time is occupied in a round of words, which are felt to be no part of prayer, but only successive preparations to pray. And the usual hesitation of this manner, adds greatly to the difficulty. To the same class of faults belongs the excessive use of the interjection O. This should always denote emotion, and is never proper, except when followed by a title of God, in the vocative case, or the direct language of earnest petition. It is a great extreme to begin, as some do, nearly every sentence with this intensive particle, as ; " O, we beseech thee ; " — " O, we bless thee ; " — " O, we are sinners." And the case is still worse, when this intensive phraseology is often made out by the help of an expletive verb, as " O, we do beseech thee ;" — " O, we do bless thee." 3. Injudicious use o( pauses, is another fault which often oc- curs in prayer. I have already mentioned freedom and fluency as especially desirable in this duty. There is nothing which so fatally destroys the influence upon common minds of what is spoken in public, as the appearance of hesitation in the speaker. They always ascribe it to a dulness of conception, or flutter of spirits, which excites their compassion, or at least diminishes their respect. In a devotional exercise, the influence is much worse than in any other kind of speaking. Whatever apology, in behalf of a very young preacher, may be made by his fellow worshippers, still, they will inevitably lose all interest in his prayer, if he proceeds in it with difficulty himself. In some cases where there is no special mismanagement as to pauses, the speaker may inflict pain on his hearers, amounting in some cases to distress, by unskilfully going back, to correct some slight verbal mistake, in what he had uttered. This una- voidably fixes the attention of his fellow worshippers, on what FAULTS IN PRAYEK. 315 might otherwise have passed without notice. If there is neither impictij nor absurditij in his language, though it may not have been happily chosen, to correct the mistake, is generally worse than to let it alone. The same pauses are required in prayer, as in any other kind of grave delivery ; and for the same reasons, — to distinguish the sense, and to give opportunity for taking breath. But when pauses are made between words, too closely connected to admit of any pause, it occasions an appearance of embarrassment, which the hearers certainly observe in prayer, and certainly ob- serve with pain. For example, men who know nothing of grammar, instinctively feel that an adjective signifies nothing, without a substantive. When a speaker utters an adjective, his mind is supposed already to have conceived the substantive to which it belongs. If he makes a pause, then, between the ad- jective and the substantive, it implies that he had begun to utter a thought not finished in his own mind. The case is the same with other grammatical correlates, standing in immediate connex- ion,— as the auxiliary and its principal verb, the preposition and the noun it governs, the active verb and its objective. Suppose a preacher, then, to utter this sentence in prayer with these paus- es ; — " We entreat thee in ... . thy great mercy to grant .... us grace, that we may .... turn from our manifold .... trans- gressions and live." All these unnatural pauses no one would be likely to make in one sentence. But one or other of them would probably be adopted by him, who had acquired the un- fortunate and needless habit, which I am condemning. Perhaps I ought to mention another thing, which occurs in the language of prayer, and on account of which, I have often observed young preachers to proceed with difliculty. I refer to the too abundant use of sentences, in which the relative ivith its adjuncts constitutes a member, or perhaps a series of members. Hence it happens very frequently, that while the speaker's mind conceives exactly the thought to be expressed in the beginning of such a complex sentence, he is thrown into emban'assment, in making out its subsequent parts. For example ; it would be 316 FAULTS IN PRAYER. a simple petition, easily uttered in prayer, to say, — " Help us to regard with the deepest reverence, the solemn admonitions of thy word." But if the speaker has acquired the habit of jihraseology just alluded to, his form of expression would per- haps be, — " Help us to regard, with that reverence ivhich those solemn admonitions of thy word, ivhich ." The blanks are left after the relatives, to suggest the difficulty intend- ed in my remarks. These might each be filled with forms of expression very different, and yet perfectly proper. Which of these forms shall be adopted, must cost the mind a momentary effort to determine ; and this is the precise point at which hesi- tation is very liable to occur. In regard to fluency of utterance, I may add, that it is out of question, when a prayer consists of detached sentences, in which there is no current of thought or feeling. These generally be- gin with some auxiliary verb, as may or let, or some set phrase ; while each sentence is independent of every other, and all fol- low successively, with a uniform cadence. Whereas, if the speaker introduces successively, some tojjic or train of thought, to which different sentences refer, through a paragraph ; and these sentences begin with words that have meaning, — perhaps with a principal verb, as ; " shoiv us, — teach us, — guide us, — sanctify us ; " — &c. — the monotonous, heavy manner is avoided. 4. Another fault, is too great familiarity, in addresses to God. Some acquire the habit, as Newton says, " of talking to the Lord," — in much the same careless manner, as to language and voice, as though they were addressing a fellow worm. " A man in pleading for his life before an earthly king, would speak with seriousness and reverence ; — much more is this proper in speaking to the King of Kings." Zealous and fanatical men have acquired an unseemly boldness, in this respect, from some things in a kind of sacred, pastoral poetry ; and in such poetico- prose writings as Mrs. Rowe's Devout Exercises ; — and in the ex- ample of some eccentric preachers, such as Whitefield. It is not uncommon to hear from those whose devout feelings are unques- tionable, such expressions as these ; " Dearest Jesus, come and sit FAULTS IN PKAl'KR. 317 down with us, at the table which thou hast spread ; " — "Come and make one with us." " The Apostles," says a sensible writer, " will not be thought cold or lukewarm, in love to their divine Master. Yet they never prefixed to his name fondling epithets^ They were too sensible of the infinite distance between him and them- selves, to venture on such irreverence. They spoke to him, and of him, in terms not of equal familiarity, but of respectful and awful veneration. Let those who are accustomed to use such phrases as, "dear God," and "dear Jesus," study the example of the Apostles. 5. I have already glanced at the language of censure, and of compliment, as being improper in prayer. On the latter point, a kw additional remarks are required. I suppose there can be no doubt, that on the simple principles of the gospel, flattery is wrong, in all cases. Suppose then, as pastor of a congregation, you make the closing prayer on the sabbath, after a brother in the ministry has kindly preached for you through the day. You allude to his sermons in terms, such as worldly politeness em- ploys on common subjects, that is, in terms of direct compliment. In thus cancelling an obligation to a fellow worm, do you not of- fend against the sanctity of the place and the occasion, and the dignity, (so to speak,) of devotion ? I have no doubt that in- telligent and conscientious people often feel on this point, a de- gree of impropriety, in the habits of ministers ; and the same habits are sometimes carried to a greater extreme, in more pri- vate devotions, such as acknowledging the hospitalities of fami- lies. 6. The practice of some excellent ministers, to introduce in- to public prayer, a direct reference to their individual infirmi- ties and sins, I consider as improper. My first reason is, that this is turning aside from the common ground, in which the de- votions of an assembly can unite. To acknowledge the insuf- ficiency of all means in themselves, and the weakness and un- worthiness of human instruments, is proper. To implore divine assistance in the dispensation of the word, and the divine bles- sing to give it efficacy, is of course proper. The whole assem- bly can unite, in such expressions of Christian feeling. But if 318 FAULTS IN PRAYER. the preacher goes into confessions of his own individual weak- nesses and sins, can the assembly join in his confessions ? — or shall they suspend their devotions in the meantime ? There is a second difficulty on this point. The decorum be- longing to the pulpit, makes it less proper for the preacher, than for any other public speaker, to bring himself into view in any prominent manner. Hence, as I have before remarked, personal apologies, which might be proper perhaps in a secular oration, could not be tolerated in a sermon. For obvious reasons, every thing of this sort is still less tolerable in prayer. But if I mis- take not, the preacher's confessions to God of his own infirmi- ties and defects, often have the aspect of an apology to the audi- ence. For myself, I must say, that the most marked cases of this sort which I have witnessed, have made an instinctive im- pression on my mind, even from childhood, of something like ostentatious humility. I have left myself room in the close of these Lectures, for only a few hints of advice, as to occasional prayers. The most general one is, shun yourself, at all events, things ivhich you have marked as prominent faults in the prayers of your brethren. For example, why should the whole body of ministers, from year to year, speak with impatience of the cus- tomary length in ordination prayers, and yet each one in turn, be both complainer and transgressor ? Consistency requires, that he should excuse his brother, for praying fifteen or twenty minutes, instead of five, at the opening or close of an ordination, or else should forbear to do so himself. Another and more particular advice is, take care to make your occasional pjrayers appropriate. I have more than once heard a minister pray at a funeral, with all manner of prayer and supplication, but with no other reference to the occasion, than might be expected in a common prayer on the sabbath, when the notice of a death had been requested. Instead of this miscellaneous, unseasonable mention of every thing, remember at a funeral, that you are limited to one subject. With that your prayer should begin and end. I say the same thing re- FAULTS IN PRAYER. 319 specting prayer at a marriage, an ordination, a baptism, at the communion table, and in the chamber of sickness. On every such occasion, your petitions should have respect to one leading subject. As to praying with the sick, you will find it sometimes a de- lightful, but oftener a very trying duty ; — calling always for the exercise of kindness and wisdom, — and occasionally of a resolute pastoral fidelity. The points to which I refer, vary so much with the age, intelligence, rank in life, religious character, degree and kind of sickness, with its probable termination, — the bodily and mental state of the sufferer, &;c. — that I cannot pretend to give advice, adapted to circumstances so diversified ; circumstances indeed, in which nothing but your own experience and judg- ment can be an adequate guide. When you are called to pray with a sick person, who has been both ignorant and care- less concerning religion, and whose apprehensions are now awa- kened by present danger, let your language be so chosen as not to give a mistaken impression. Considering how liable those of whom I speak are, " to catch at every shadow of hope," — the wisest ministers have avoided using the common appellations, " Thy servant, — thy handmaid," lest the individuals concerned should ignorantly draw from it a favorable opinion of their state. In the family prayers of ministers, the most common faults that I have observed, are ; — too much length, especially at evening ; too little variety of matter and expression ; or, which amounts to the same thing, too little adaptation to the state of a family. When you are called to perform this service, especially when abroad, for various reasons, the youthful part of the fam- ily, as children and servants, should not fail to be mentioned in these seasons of devotion. 320 NOTE. Though the topics treated in the foregoing Lectures on Prayer, are so many, as to render it indispensable that some of tliem should be passed over with great brevity ; I am well aware that there are oth- ers, which might have been properly introduced, but which are alto- gether omitted. Among these is the duty o? praying for Rulers. The obligation to do this, as a jjart of the public devotions of the sanctuary, I presume cannot be questioned by any one who has considered how reasonable is the duty in itself; how expressly and often it is enjoined in the Bible : and how universally it has been sanctioned by the usage of the church, in all ages, and among Christians of every communion. To what has been the general usage of Christendom, however, the usage of the American jjulpit, for some time past, has -formed, if I mistake not, an exception as lamentable as it is unaccountable. If we do not regard the affairs of our country as exempt from the control of a universal Providence; — if our pubhc men are not already so wise as to need no guidance fi-om the fountain of heavenly wisdom ; why is it, that in our religious assemblies, the voice of supplication is so seldom heard in behalf of the men to whom our national interests are confided? If the practice of our fathers to pray for rulers, in the public assembly, as well as in tlie family, is passing into forgetfulness at this day, to us who are specially called to lead the devotions of our fellow Christians, the question comes home with a dread responsibil- ity,— Why is it so? In respect to the importance of united prayer for rulers, on the part of good men, and the reasons which may have led to a neglect of this duty, my views are expressed at length in two sermons, which I published on this subject, in 1831. SERMONS. 41 It seems proper to inform the reader that a leading consideration, in favor of including several sermons in this volume, is the desii'e of giving a practical illustration of the principles discussed in the fifth Lecture, on Choice of Subjects for Sertnons. It is presumed that the student of Homiletics may better understand the views expressed in the Lecture, by having before him an original sermon, as a specimen of the kind of subject intended, under each head. In making this se- lection, however, the author has found it difficult to satisfy himself. He would have wished to insert a single rather than a double sermon, as an example of the doctrinal and didactic. In the class of ethical, he had chosen a sermon on Sins of the Tongue ; but found the illegible state of the manuscript to require more attention than he can now be- stow. His hope is, that, beyond the object above stated, the sermons may be found usefid to his younger clerical brethren, in illustrating some of the elementary principles of preaching; and useful to other rpadf rs in ilkistrating the principles and sjiirit of the gospel. SERMON I. DOCTRINAL. LOVE TO GOD. Matt. 22: 37, 38. Jesus saith wito him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. The men of rank and influence among the Jews, saw %\ith alarm the growing regard to the instructions of Christ, manifest- ed by the eager interest with which muhitudes attended on his ministry. The plan which they adopted to arrest this current of popular sentiment, is only one example among many, in which the sagacity of wicked men confounds itself. The Phar- isees first, and then the Sadducees, proposed questions to this new Teacher, which they thought so perplexing as to shake his credit with the people. The result was, however, that they were " put to silence," and the multitude " were astonished" at his answers. So unexpected a discomfiture, where so easy a tri- umph had been anticipated, only exasperated the pride and the prejudices of these men. A third trial therefore was made by one who seems to have been eminently qualified for the purpose. He is styled a lawyer, denoting that he had been trained up in 324 LOVE TO GOD. the sacred literature of his country, where schools of the proph- ets had been maintained since the time of Samuel, and had be- come, especially since the captivity, the resort of young men devoted to the sacred office, as a learned profession. With much confidence probably in his own attainments, this scribe put the question, "Master which is the great commandment in the law ? " The answer, which, according to Mark, made a deep and salutary impression onlhe enquirer, was given in the words of the text, — " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God ; he. This is a quotation from the summary of the moral law in the sixth chapter of Deuteronomy. To this Christ subjoined a summary of the second table, which is a branch of the first and great law requiring love to God ; and is called the second because man is the direct, though not the primary object of regard. The clause which follows is very emphatical ; " On these two com- mandments hang all the law and the prophets." The plain meaning is, this is the whole of religion, as required in the Jew- ish scriptures. It is the essence both of the Pentateuch, (that code of statutes often called the law, the spirit of which is con- tained in the ten commandments ; ) and also of the instructions giv- en by the prophets ; and the text in its connexions shows that the moral law, especially, instead of being abrogated or coun- teracted, is established in all its honor and authority by the gos- pel. The text then contains the simple proposition ; that love TO GOD COMPRISES THE SUM OF ALL ACCEPTABLE OBEDIENCE. The subject divides itself into two branches. The PROPERTIES of this love, and The DUTY OF ALL MEN TO POSSESS IT. After considering these two points, we shall be prepared, by way of reflection, to see hew any system of religion is salutary in its influence or not, just in proportion as it is conformed to this one standard of the great Teacher ; and how this simple principle of the text becomes the grand principle of Christian preaching. — We are to consider, I. The Properties of true love to God. The terms of the text most distinctly imply, that it is a su- DOCTRINAL. ''i'25 jjreme regard to himself which God requires. '' Thou shall love the Lord thy God, with all thy ^car^, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind." This reduplication of terms is de- signed to express, in the strongest manner, the extent of the ob- ligation, as including all our rational and moral powers. It is so strongly expressed as to be apparently exclusive of all regard to other beings besides God, and therefore apparently inconsistent with the other express command, to love our neighbor. For how, it may be said, can there be any place for regard to ourselves or to our fellow men, if we must love God with all the heart? But the rule of duty is easy to be understood. If excellence is to be [oved, jjerfect and infinite excellence is to be loved supreme- ly. To give God the regard then, which his character deserves, is not to exclude a proper regard to men ; but to love them in subordination to Him. The love which a son owes to his fa- ther must not be transferred to a brother or sister ; yet love to the father allows and requires due aftection to all the members of the family. When we say, in common language, of a man ar- dently devoted to an object, that he pursues it with all his heart, we mean a comjjarative, not an absolute exclusion of all other objects. So familiar is this kind of expression, that the strong- est examples of it, in which Christ requires us to hate father and mother, brethren and sisters, in comparison with him, are seldom if ever misunderstood by plain readers of the Bible. The love of God should so engross and fill the soul, as to exclude contra- ry, and controul subordinate affections. It should lead us to prize nothing in competition with him ; — to pursue nothing but in subserviency to his sacred will. In short, this love implies that whatever are our possessions, enjoyments, attainments, we give him the xvhole ; and serve him to the utmost extent of all our capacities. This love is impartial, as well as supreme. I say impartial rather than disinterested, not because I perceive any good rea- son for the prejudice of many against the latter term, but be- cause this prejudice exists ; and because they who indulge it un- derstand the phrase disinterested love to exclude all regard to 326 LOVE TO GOD. our own happiness. Doubtless some who are actuated by the worthiest motives, in attempting to vindicate the rights of God, against all interfering claims, have advanced certain extreme statements, which are liable at least to be understood as main- taining the necessary extinction of personal regard to ourselves, and our own interests, by the existence of disinterested affection in the heart. That this is not my meaning will be evident as we proceed. But there is another extreme. Not a few moralists and Christian divines, in opposing the doctrine of disinterested affec- tion, go all the length of maintaining that the essence of moral goodness is self-love. It is impossible, they affirm, for a ration- al being to love God, without previous evidence that he is an object of divine favor ; because he must make himself the centre of his own affections. This sentiment the apostle is sup- posed to teach when he says, " We love him because he first loved us." Now there can be no question that love to God is a fruit of his Spirit, whose gracious influence begins this good work in the heart, wherever it exists ; so that God's love to men is the only efficacious cause of their love to him. There can be no question, that the ten thousand evidences that God is good and does good, which are spread out before us in the works of providence and redemption, lay us under the strongest obligations to love him. And there can be no question that the innumerable and unmerited blessings bestowed on himself by the same divine goodness, will awaken in the Christian's bosom, a generous and fervent gratitude. But does this make self-love the essence of moral goodness ? Why then, if we are to esteem others just according to the fa- vors they have conferred on us, — why is it wrong to hate ene- mies, according to the maxim of the Jews ? Why did Christ say to them, " Love your enemies ; — for if ye love them that love you, what reward have ye ?" Publicans do the same ; men who make no pretensions to religion, do this. The felon who deserves death, may be thankful for the perjury of a false witness, that saves him from the gallows. It is gratitude for a DOCTRINAL. 327 hreach of God's law ; and is it then gratitude such as God ap- proves ? Suppose, now, that before I can love God, it is necessary for me to believe that he has first loved me as one of his children. How am I to believe this ? Plainly, I must believe without evidence, or I must have evidence of what is untrue. For by the supposition, I can have no love to God, till 1 believe that he delights in me, as the object of his special favor, and to be- lieve this, while I have no love to him, is to believe a falsehood. When we speak of love as impartial, we ought to mean noth- ing inconsistent with thai general law, by ^vhich every man is to act as the special guardian of his own life and happiness, and to fulfil his special obligations to his kindred, his neighbors, and his country. Not because the happiness of himself or his friends, is more important than that of others, but because, as a limited being, his benevolence must act on objects it can reach, within his limited sphere. That man whose benevolence is most ex- pansive, who acts from the highest views of his relations to God and the universe, will take the best care of his own soul and body; — will be the best father, the best neighbor, the best citi- zen. His regard to himself will be consistent with that which he owes to all other beings. And let me ask now whether the principle that makes self-love the standard of duty is consistent with reason, with conscience, or with the Bible. How is it consistent with reason 1 Ought we to regard the life of a million men more than of one ? — or the life of a 7nan, more than of an insect 1 Why 1 — Because it is more important. Shall a man then set up himself as his own chief object, above all the creation, and the Creator too ? An insect bears some proportion to a man ; but a man bears no proportion to God. Comparison here is out of the question, unless it be to quicken our feeble conceptions, as in the bold and beautiful figure of the prophet ; " All nations before him are less than nothing.''^ Su- preme self-love is utterly imreasonable ; — it exalts what is fi- nite above what is infinite. How is it consistent with conscience and common sense 1 In 328 LOVE TO GOD. this one estimate of character, good men and bad instinctively agree, that he who will never sacrifice another's interest to serve his own, but will forego his own advantage to serve his fellow man, deserves approbation. Worldly men praise this spirit, as generous and magnanimous ; and stigmatize as base and narrow, the opposite temper. In religion the principle holds in its full strength. What if positive proof could now be furnished that Cranmer went to the stake, from the vain glorious desire to have his name blazoned with the honors of martyrdom. What if, at this late day, documents should be discovered, show- ing that the philanthropist Howard, and the missionary Brainerd, with all their reputed zeal and self-denial, were at bottom actu- ated by motives of personal emolument or fame. I hope there is no injustice to these venerable names, in supposing such a case for illustration. Assuming the facts then to be so, I do not ask what would Christians say ? — but what would worldly men say ? What do they say concerning men of the same character now, whose motives they would discredit ? Why these men af- ter all are not disinterested. Who does not know with what scrutiny the little band who commenced the work of modem missions in the east, have been watched at every step ; and how ready even votaries of wealth and pleasure have been to fix on any circumstance, and proclaim it aloud, from which a sus- picion might be raised, that missionaries and their families are not as superior to all selfish motives, as if they were so many angels? Illiberal and unreasonable as such invectives are, they show a common consent among men that a selfish temper is wrong. And this doctrine is no recent invention of speculating theologi- ans. Fenelon, and Pascal, and Cicero taught it. Even the canons of criticism in Greece and Rome required that an orator or statesman should be governed, not by personal ambition, but regard to the public good. But we have higher authority ; and I ask briefly, how does the sentiment I am opposing accord with the Bible 1 To cut short the reply, only read my text ; " Thou shalt love," DOCTRINAL. 329 whom 1 — " the Lord thy God, — with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind." — Does this allow a man to make himself the chief object of regard ? To the two foregoing properties of the love which God re- quires, I intended to add two others ; — That it is diffusive or active, and that it is fermanent. The extent of the subject however allows me only to say, on the former of these, that love is the principle of all those aftections and practical duties, which constitute tme religion. We mean only modifications of this grand principle, when we speak of the Christian graces, repentance, faith, hope, humility, patience, meekness. The same thing holds of relative duties. The aposde after enu- merating these, says, they are briefly comprehended in love. And hence the reality of our regard to God, is often suspended, as to evidence, on the simple test of love to the brethren; for it is plain that the same affection which delights in him, will be extended to those who bear his image ; and will operate towards all men, like the expansive benevolence of him " who maketh his sun to rise on the evil and the good." ^he permanence of this affection is required by the same law which extends its claims not only to all the powers of a moral agent, but to every part of his existence. The duty to love God can never cease, even for a moment, because his perfections are unchangeable and eternal. Such are the characteristics of that love which is the fulfilling of the law. I proceed, 11. To show that it is the duty of all men to possess THIS LOVE. My first argument must of course be derived from the char- acter of God, and the relations he sustains to us. His moral attributes, comprised in the general term goodness, are the basis of all moral obligation. This I have assumed in the remarks al- ready made, and must assume in what is to follow. This doc- trine is so necessarily presupposed in the moral affections which the law requires, that without it, these requisitions must be nu- gatory. For if God is not lovely, whatever powers men pos- 42 330 LOVE TO GOD. sess, and to whatever other things the authority of God might bind them, it could never bind them to love himself. To trem- ble at his majesty, and to dread his displeasure, might indeed be reasonable; but to love his character, if it were divested of all moral excellency, could never be a duty, for it would be wrong. But God himself is love. In him are united all those perfec- tions which render him the object of supreme love to us. And this argument is greatly strengthened when we consider his rela- tions to us. He is our Creator. Besides a body " fearfully and wonder- fully made," he has given us a soul surpassing in value all his other works, and stamped with a brighter resemblance of his own intelligence and immortality. Augustine says ; " If a Sculptor, after fashioning a piece of marble into a human figure, could inspire it with life and sense, could give it motion, and understanding, and speech, its first act doubtless would be to prostrate itself at the feet of its maker in subjection and thank- fulness." And shall man refuse his homage to the God that made him ? The sun was formed to shine, and it shines. The beasts were made to serve man, and they bow their necks, in cheerful submission to his will. And shall man, who was formed for the special purpose of glorifying God, stand alone in this wide world, and refuse to fulfil the end of his creation? God is our preserver and benefactor. Blessings surpassing all computation in number and value he bestows on us, while he has shaped the whole system of his beneficence so, that he is himself \he only absolute good to the soul. The appetite of hunger is not satisfied with the fragrance of the rose, — it demands food. The eye is not satisfied with the enchantments of music, — its element is light. The ear is not satisfied with the beau- ties of the rainbow, — 'its element is harmony. So the love of God is the proper element of the soul. And who is in fact the happy man in this world ? Not he who makes a god of this world ; not he who expects happiness from any af its enjoy- ments, but he who lifts his eye above them all in the fervent as- I DOCTRINAL. 331 piration, " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? — and there is none upon earth, that I desire besides thee." But the consummation of all other blessings, whicli claim our love to God, is the gift of his Son. If we are " fearfully and wonderfully made," we are still more fearfully and wonderfully redeemed. Can any human heart fail to see, in the wonders of the cross, a demonstration of its duty to love God ? My second argument is drawn from the capacities of men, as moral agents. Let common sense be made the expositor of my text. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart." Though God is worthy of perfect love, a tree or a stone is not bound by this command. It has no heart ; — it is not a moral agent. But should it be said, I have indeed understanding, affections, and will ; I can love an object that is present to my senses, and that is agreeable to my feelings ; but for a sinful and limited being like me to love an infinite spirit, — to love a holy God, perfectly, is as much impossible as if I had no heart ; again I say, let common sense and conscience speak. You love your friend after he is laid in the grave. Was it then a portion of organized dust, or an intelligent, immortal mind, that was thus dear to your heart ? And if you can love the spirit of your friend, — that part of him which loved you, — why not love the Father of spirits ? And what if God is an infinite, and you are a limited being ? He requires you to love him, not with an infinite love, not with the love of Gabriel, but according to the measure of your capacities, or with all your heart. And what if that heart is sinful ? Does this exempt it from obligation to be holy ? When you say I cannot love God with this sinful heart, you offer as an excuse the very thing which constitutes your guilt : an excuse which is never offered in any other hu- man concern. Should a disobedient son say of a good father, " I cannot love him ; I should rejoice to obey his commands, but can find no satisfaction in it," who would give the weight of a feather to such an apology ? Can you then say, and think yourself sincere and innocent in saying, " I desire with all my heart to love God, but yet my heart refuses to love him?" 332 LOVE TO GOD. What is this but absurdity and mockery ! Are you a moral agent ? Then conscience decides that you have no want of ca- pacities to obey the first and great commandment of the law. My third argument arises from the consideration that if men are not hound to love God supremely, there can he no such thing as holiness or sin in the universe. Suppose we say with BoUngbroke, that our chief principle of action should be regard to our own interest ; — or with Rousseau resolve all mio feeling, and say, "that what we feel to be right is right, and what we feel to be wrong is wrong. All the mo- rality of our actions lies in the judgment we ourselves form of them." But if the rule of duty changes with the interests and feelings of men, — there is 7io rule. What is right in a man to day, may be wrong to-morrow. Or what is right in one man may be wrong in another. One's interest and feelings may prompt him to pray, — another's to blaspheme. Both conform to the rule of duty ; — and the same action maybe both right and wrong at the same moment. Now, to make the essence of duty to God consist in any mod- ification of self-love, is to deny all distinction of character be- tween the good and the bad. We may suppose an individual, who is an example of consummate depravity, making it his highest object of regard to promote his own interest. His views as to what constitutes his own best interest may, indeed, be utterly wrong ; but still he makes himself the centre of his own supreme affection. If we say that an angel must ne- cessarily be actuated by the same principle, namely, a govern- ing regard to himself, we maintain that there is no essential difference, as to the elements of moral character, between an angel and a devil. We must then admit our obliojations to love God supremely, or set aside the basis of all moral government. My fourth and last argument is drawn from the tendency of obedience to this command. To make every moral agent his own centre, — and to suppose it lawful for him to desire the welfare of others, only in subordination to his own, is to place I DOCTRINAL. 333 him in perpetual conflict with each fellow being around him, and to fill the moral system with everlasting discord and war. Not so with the system that makes God supreme, the centre and the object, to whom all eyes are to look, and in whom all hearts are to unite. Here you see an authority that goes to the main-spring of action in every heart, and claims controul over every thought and feeling. Here you see a principle of all-per- vading efficacy, adapted to reach every part of Jehovah's em- pire, and to bind the hearts of all moral agents to each other, and to the throne of God, with the same bond of holy affection. This principle in the moral world is like the influence of the sun in the material, which holds the inferior orbs in harmonious movement, around the common centre of attraction. The time does not allow us to dwell on this delightful topic ; but the day is coming when the universal prevalence of true religion will il- lustrate its happy tendency to produce " peace on earth, and good will to men," as well as " glory to God in the highest." The golden age of poetry is fiction and fable ; — but the love of God, when it becomes, as it will become, the predominant prin- ciple of action among men, will diffuse over this dreary world, the bloom and beauty of Paradise. The asp and the adder will be hannless companions to the little child ; " the lion will eat straw like the ox, and the leopard lie down with the kid." Then, " Truth will spring out of the earth, and right- eousness look down from heaven ; the wilderness will become as Eden, and the desert as the garden of the Lord ; joy and gladness will be heard therein, — thanksgiving and the voice of melody." SERMON 11. DOCTRINO-PRACTICAL. LOVE TO GOD. It remains now that we consider some of the doctrinal and practical results arising from the view of the subject, given in the preceding discourse. I. If it is the duty of men to love God with all the heart, the gospel was not designed, as some have supposed, to super- sede the obligations of the divine law. The religion of the Bible, as a system, is complete, and con- sistent with itself in all its parts. But the system which many embrace and profess to derive from the Bible, is of a very dif- ferent character. There are some who seem to make entire conformity to the law essential, not only in point of duty, but also of sincerity and acceptance. They admit the hope of di- vine favor to nothing short of sinless perfection ; and so inter- pret the law as to make it set aside the gospel. But there is another extreme, which, under different names, is much more common, and much more dangerous in tendency, because it coincides with the strongest propensities of the un- sanctified heart. I refer to those opinions which make the gos- PRACTICAL. 335 pel supersede the law. Since salvation is not to be obtained by personal obedience, some have boldly maintained that the law is no longer of any use ; that believers are under no obli- gation to conform to it ; and that, of course, nothing which they do is offensive to God. These opinions, in their most open and explicit forms, are so plainly contrary to the word of God, that they are much less prevalent than others of kindred ten- dency but more plausible aspect. There are not a few who would not go all this length, but still regard the old law requiring " love to God with all the heart" as really unsuited to the condition of fallen man, and as necessarily superseded by the gospel, which they view as a mitigated law, demanding only sincere though imperfect obedience. But it is to my purpose to show that any sentiment, which contravenes the great commandment requiring supreme love to God, is as inconsistent with the gospel, as with the law, and sweeps away in fact the whole system of revealed religion. Let us consider the case, and see if it could be the design of the gospel to repeal or modify the law. Look at the ybrmf/a^ions of this law, and the _pwrpo5e for which it was established. Some things are in themselves so indifferent, that the same authority might either require or forbid them. The ritual precepts as to leaven and honey are of this sort. But the supposition that God could forbid men to love himself, is absurd. Should he tolerate hatred to himself, or to each other, among moral agents, his kingdom would be divided against itself, and the chief ends of moral government would be subverted. To supersede his law, therefore, or to relax the strictness and ex- tent of its claims, would be inconsistent with his omn perfections y and with the best interests of the universe. Look at the doctrines and precepts of Christ. " Think not," said he, " that I am come to destroy the law or the prophets. I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil. Till heaven and earth pass, not one jot or tittle (not the minutest letter or point) of the law shall fail." I am aware that some suppose this to re- spect not the moral law, but the Mosaic code, and the prophets generally. These doubtless it did respect. But whatever else 336 LOVE TO GOD. the great Teacher meant, he plainly meant the moral law chief- ly. Hence he went on to comment on the perversion of this law by the Scribes. " Thou shalt not kill ;" — they understood to forbid the act of murder ; he extended it also to malice in the heart. The act of adultery, they condemned ; — he represented this as also a sin of the heart. Hatred to friends, they consid- ered to be wTong ; he also forbade hatred to enemies.''^ This strain of commentary and reprehension he closed by saying — " Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect." Does this look like lowering down the standard of duty ? Not an in- stance can be found in the New Testament, where any license is given to one sinful word or thought. Does this look like a design in Christ to make the gospel a mitigated law ? Besides, no stronger testimony to the perfection and perpetuity of the law could be given, than is implied in the fact, that John, and Christ, and the Apostles incessantly preached " that men should repent.^' But why repent ? Because they are transgressors ; not of an abrogated or mitigated law, but of one that is unchangeably ho- ly, just and good. Look at the threatenings of Christ. In the most dreadful curses of the law, what is there more appalling and dreadful, than in the sanctions of the gospel itself? — "these shall go away into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." Look at the sufferings of Christ. For what purpose did he endure the agonies of the cross ? Simply that he might " mag- nify the law, and make it honorable ;" — and yet provide for the pardon of its transgressors. Well therefore might Paul say, with this very subject in his eye, " Do we then make void the law through faith ?" Does the doctrine of salvation by grace set aside the standard of moral obligation ? " God forbid ; — yea, we establish the law." And so it is. In the scene of Cal- vary, God speaks out his unalterable purpose to maintain his law, in language even more awful than the thunderings of Sinai. Look at the example of Christ. In what instance did he transgress the law ? " Go to natural religion," says an eloquent preacher, " lay before her Mahomet and his apostles, arrayed in LOVE TO GOB. 337 armour and in blood ; show her the cities which he set in flames, the countries which he ravaged and destroyed.* ' Then carry her into his retirement ; show her the prophet's chamber, his con- cubines and his wives ; and let her hear him allege a divine commission to justify his licentiousness, and his crimes. When she is tired with this prospect, show her the blessed Jesus, humble and meek, and doing good to all men. Let her see his retirement ; let her follow him to the Mount, and hear his de- votions, and listen to his heavenly discourse. Let her view his whole life ; let her stand by his cross, and hear him in the ago- ny of death, pray for his enemies ; — and then ask, loliich is the Prophet of God.' Truly, brethren, he who " did no sin,'' — who himself never broke the divine law in one tittle, could not intend to give a mitigated law to his followers. In a word, make the appeal to any sincere disciple of Christ, who has felt the power of the gospel on his heart, whether he is, or wishes to be exempt from obligation to keep the whole law ? Which of the commandments is he at liberty to break ? — Not one. — For every sin that he commits he is guilty, — he feels guilty ; and conscience ratifies, in all its extent and strict- ness, the law that requires him to love God supremely, and to be " holy as God is holy." 2. If it is the duty of men to love God with all the heart, there is no loay of scdvation for a sinner hut hy sovereign grace. Had he obeyed the law perfectly, he would have been justified by works. But he has broken it. Here then he stands as a perishing sinner. All that he has come short of perfect love is sin, and needs forgiveness. He has come short entirely ; — all his moral affections have been wrong. He has no obedience to plead, and if he had any, it could avail nothing tow'ards his justification as a sinner. He can * The reader is informed tliat whenever I employ the double com- ma, it denotes a proper 'Quotation ; tlie single inverted comma, at the beginning of a passage, signifies that the sentiment is from another but not exactly in his language. 43 338 DOCTRINO-PRACTICAL. look nowhere for relief but to Christ, " Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation, through faith in his blood, that he might be just, and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus.' " Where is boasting then ? It is excluded. By what law ? Of works ? Nay, but by the law of faith." 3. If it is the duty of men to love God with all the heart, the directions ivhich should be given to sinners, by the Christian preacher, are simple, and intelligible, and reasonable. I must be permitted to dwell on this point, as specially im- portant to those of my hearers, who are devoted to the sacred office. No fact is more evident than that very different effects are produced by the labors of different ministers. The sermons of one are attended with deep and vivid impressions of truth on the conscience ; and many from time to time, are savingly con- verted to God. Another man, not inferior to him in talents, and equally anx- ious for the salvation of his hearers, preaches perhaps for years, what seems to be very much the same system of religion, but no visible and powerful influence attends his ministrations. Whence comes this difference ? Aside from the cooperation of the Spirit, which is necessary to success in any instance, and which is given or withheld in a sovereign manner ; — aside too from many circumstances, which might be supposed to have a bearing on the case, the chief difference I presume will be found to lie in one elementanj principle of preaching, and that is, the different method by which the two men aim to reach the con- science of hearers. One makes the doctrine of moral obhgation, as summarily expressed in my text, stand out, in all its prominence to the viev/ of each individual sinner, as applying to himself; — the other does not. And a mistake here is fundamental in its practical influence. It gives a character of inefficacy to a man's whole ministrations, which no goodness of motive, no warmth of zeal in the pulpit, can retrieve. The traveller who has taken a wrong path, may pursue his journey with confidence and de- spatch ; but the rapidity of his movement does not bring him any nearer to the end at which he aims. The faster he travels. LOVE TO GOD. 340 ihe farther he wanders from the right way, and the more diffi- cult it becomes to correct the mistake. Just so in the case be- fore us. The preacher who starts with wrong premises as to the strictness and extent of the divine law, may be warm in ad- dress to the feelings of men ; but their feeling will not be such as the gospel was intended to produce. Let us resume the two cases just now supposed. A preach- er represents the divine law as originally requiring supreme love to God, but as modified now to suit the present condition of the world. What then is the character of men, under this modified law ? Sinners doubtless they are, in some general sense ; they do not love God with all the heart, perhaps do not love him at all ; but to say that they have a carnal mind, which is enmity to him, would be to treat them with unreasonable severity. And what is the gospel ? A scheme of infinite benevolence, which regards men as wretched, rather than guilty. A scheme which represents Christ as interposing to ransom men from a misery which they do not strictly deserve, but which they cannot es- cape without such an interposition. It is an expedient in which a compassionate Saviour takes the part of poor, helpless sinners against the awful attribute of divine justice. And what is re- pentance ? Such a sorrow as a poor, helpless man can exer- cise, that he is in a deplorable state of alienation from God, in which he is not only unable to make an atonement for himself, but to accept the atonement God has provided. And what if he does not repent ? Shall he be told that he must perish ? Rather he is told that he must use means, wait upon God, and do the best that he can. And if he pleads that he cannot re- pent, still he is told that God is merciful, and will never cast off those who do the best that they can. In this way a minister sometimes builds up a system of half- way religion, by exhorting men to read, and hear, and pray, in a manner confessedly destitute of all tme regard to the glory of God, and implying that it would be unjust in him not to accept such sincere endeavors to repent as they exhibit, though they still remain impenitent. When he has trained up his hearers in 339 KOCTRINO-PRACTICAL. this way, they demand tliat he shall preach only on some gen- eral topic of religion ; and are best of all pleased, when that top- ic is the compassion of Christ. And if they liappen to hear a sermon on the justice, or the sovereignty of God, or on the end- less misery of the wicked, they cry out upon it, as divesting the Father of mercies of all his lovely attributes, and making him a great tyrant, from whose wrath there is no escape, because he is strono; enouo;b, and cruel enoufrh, to crush men into an undeserved destruction. But who has authorised any man to instruct an assembly of dying sinners in this manner ? Who authorised him to make terms of duty and salvation, such as are unknown to the Bible ; — and such as ever}^ one of his hearers may comply with, in every re- spect, and yet be eternally shut out of heaven ? Now let us turn for a moment to the influence of that man's labors, who treats these subjects in an opposite manner. He takes the law as it came from God, in all its strictness and spir- ituality. He tells his hearers, — the demand of this law is, that you " love God with all the heart." The demand is just, be- cause he is worthy of your love ; because he has given you all the capacities necessary to complete obedience ; and because as a perfect moral governor, he never can release you from this ob- ligation. But you have broken his law. And now God comes to you with proposals of mercy through the sacrifice of his Son. He offers you pardon, on condition that you condemn yourselves as transgressors, and cast yourselves at his feet, through Christ, by repentance and faith. To these terms you ought to submit. To these terms you must submit or you are undone. This is language which men can understand. It proposes no compro- mise derogatory to God ; it affords no refuge to a self-justifying temper : it tears away the veil of delusion, which many spread between their own eyes and their own sins ; it shows them that all their inability to obey the law or the gospel lies in the des- perate wickedness of their own hearts ; and that the only way in which a guilty and perishing sinner can hope to escape eter- loVe to god. 341 nal death, is not by contending with the law, not by denying his own guilt, but by flying to the blood of Christ. Now, is any one at a loss which of these methods is best adapted to produce, and which does produce the proper eflects of preaching? Look over the congregations of this land. — Where are revivals of religion most common ? Where do you see the Redeemer " travelling in the greatness of his strength mighty to save," and trembling sinners bowing before his cross ? Not where the standard of duty is lowered down to men's hearts ; but where the obligation of the law, where the guilt and the danger of sinners are most clearly and powerfully urged on the conscience. This is the way to wake men up from the slumber of death, and to make them feel their need of the gospel. 4. If it is the duty of men to love God with all the heart, — what is called 'practical religion, as the phrase is often used in the pulpit, and elsewhere, is essentially defective. The great difficulty is, it has no standard. No term in our language is used more loosely than that which designates what the world call morality ; and that because the thing itself is altogether in- definite. ' It is partial and mutable, changing with the parallel of latitude, and with a thousand varying circumstances. It is one thing in the Indies, another in Tartary or Egypt. It alters with other fashions of the century. It depends on climate, on forms of government, on accident ; it varies when you have climbed a mountain, or passed to the other side of a river. The morality of the Mahometan permits him to 'persecute, but not to drinlc wine ; that of the Hindoo to drink wine, but not to taste meat. The morality of a Jew allowed him to hate a gentile ; that of a Roman to fight for conquest ; that of a Car- thaginian allowed him to lie; that of a Spartan, to s^ca/.' The morality of two, among the greatest moralists of antiquity, al- lowed them to Icill themselves ; and many a modern son of Mo- loch, who would shudder at self-murder, and would think him- self a monster to kill his infant, or his aged father, as pagans do ; yet scruples not to kill his jriend, in single combat. Worldly moralists, 1 say, have no standard. The rule of 342 DOCTRINO-PRACTICAL. one Is, conformity to custom. He never suspects that he is do- ing wrong, while he does only what is commonly done. With another, it is ex^tediency. He keeps the sabbath, if it is convenient ; he speaks the truth, if it is convenient ; he prays, perhaps, if it is convenient. Cromwell was a devotee occasion- ally, and prayed prostrate on the ground. But it was a maxim with him, that " the law of God, though commonly binding, may be dispensed with on special occasions, and that private justice and morality must yield to public necessity." With a third, morality consists in social duties. The man forgets God, lives without prayer, disregards or disbelieves the Bible, but glories in being a moral man, because he is just and kind to those around him. Shall I tell you then who is a moral man in the sight of God ? It is he that bows to the divine law, as the supreme rule of right ; he that is influenced by a governing regard to God, in all his actions ; he that obeys other commands spontaneously because he has obeyed the first and great command, " give me thy heart." His conduct is not conformed to custom, or expedi- ency, but to one consistent, immutable standard of duty. Take this man into a court of justice, and call on him to testify, and he will not hedx false witness. Give him the charge of untold treasures, — he will not steal. Trust him with the dearest inter- ests of yourself or family, — you are safe ; because he has a liv- ing principle of truth and integrity in his bosom. He is as wor- thy of confidence in the darJc, as at noon-day ; for he is a mor- al man, not because reputation or interest demands it, not be- cause the eye of public observation is fixed upon him, but be- cause the love and fear of God have predominant ascendancy in his heart. Now we might well expect that they who make no serious ac- count of religion, should be without any fixed standard of char- acter. But it is both strange and lamentable, that such should be the fact with those who believe the Bible, and those who are professed expositors of the Bible. And yet who does not know how common a thing it is for ministers, who would by no LOVE TO fiOD. 343 means join with infidel moralists, to shut God out of his own world, still to discharge their official duties in such a manner, as to let down the tone of doctrine, and the tone of practical piety, and the tone of Christian discipline, because they think this an easier way than to go straight on, and aim at maintaining the unbending standard of the Bible. And who does not know how utterly fruitless the efforts of such ministers often prove to make their hearers even moral.* But, my brethren, while it is important that we know how the gospel should be 'preached to men, there is a question of deeper and more momentous interest to ourselves, whether we have individually felt the power of this religion on our own hearts ? To you who expect to become ministers of Christ, let me say, — though you understand all mysteries, and all knowl- edge ; and though you could praj^ and preach like angels, with- out love to God, you are nothing. But with this heavenly temper as your governing principle of action, you will find the * One of the most powerful preachers of this age tried this experi- ment for twelve years, and afterwai'ds made the following emphatic declarations : ' I could expatiate on the meanness of dishonesty, on the villany of falsehood, on the despicable arts of calumny, — on all those deformities of character which awaken indignation against the pests and disturhers of human society. Now could I upon the strength of these expostulations, have got the thief to give up his steal- hig, and the har his deviations from truth, — it never occurred to me that all this might have been done, and yet the soul of every hearer have remained in full alienation frou) God, — as destitute of the essence of relig- ious principle as ever. But the interesting fact is, that during the whole of that period, in which I made no attempt against the enmity of the car- nal mind to God, I certainly did press the reformations of honour, and truth, and integrity among my people, but I never once heard of any such reformations being eflected. I am not sensible that all the ve- hemence with which I urged the virtues and proprieties of social life, had the weight of a feather on the moral habits of my parishioners.'* Such was the experience of this eminent preacher. And it was not till he gathered from the hund)le cottages of his Hock, new views of religion ; it was not till he became imi)rcssed with the strictness of the law, and llic utter alienation of the iieart from God ; it was not till he urged upon his hearers, as perishing sinners, the doctrines of the cross, that he saw any salutary change in their morals. * Clialmer's address to Kilmaiiy. 344 DOCTRINO-PRACTICAL. ministry a blessed work. Brainerd, among his Indians, with his bark cottage, and his couch of straw, was an enviable man, com- pared to any graceless occupant of a throne, with all his palaces, and purple, and gold. Take care, then, young ambassadors of Christ, that your hearts be truly devoted to God, and no matter to what self-denial you are called ; no matter where your field of labor lies, or where your dust is deposited at last : — you have a father and a home above, where you will meet as brethren, to go no more out forever. Other important points might properly be mentioned, as re- sults of this subject, — but I pass them all over except one, with which I close. The same unchangeable law that is now the standard of our duty, will be the standard of our trial for an eternal retribution. The heavens will pass away ; the elements melt with fervent heat ; — the earth also, and the works that are therein will be burnt up. But God will remain the same ; his law will remain the same ; and the subjects of his government will remain under the same everlasting obligations to be holy as he is holy. And when the Lord Jesus shall " come in the glory of his Father with the holy angels," all nations will be gathered before him. You, my dear hearers, will witness that scene, and make a part of that assembly. Then you will hear that great statute of the moral world, which was published at Sinai, and republished by Christ, proclaimed again, with still more dread solemnity from the judgment seat, — " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, ^vith all thy heart." Then the Judge will say to impenitent sinners ; '' It was to magnify this law and make it honorable, that I shed my blood. It was to redeem you from its penalty that I hung on the cross. But you refused to be redeemed ; — you spurned the offers of my grace ; and now the honor of the law must be maintained in your sufferings, and its penalty, without abate- ment or mitigation must fall on yourselves." Say, what can you plead ? You have no righteousness of your own ; no in- terest in the righteousness of Christ. There you stand, speech- less. Conscience says the sentence is just. There xvas a day LOVE TO GOD. 345 of salvation, but it is past. There was a sceptre of mercy, which you were invited to touch and live, — but it is become a flaming sword, lifted to cut you asunder. There was a voice that said, " look unto me and be saved ;" but it has become a voice of inexorable justice, to pronounce your doom. My dear hearers, men may speculate now, on these awful subjects. They may doubt and dispute how much meaning there is in the precepts of the law, — and how much meaning in its penalty ; but heaven and earth will Jcnow what it means, when they hear the sentence on transgressors, — " Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire." Fly, then, from that awful sen- tence, ye prisoners of hope. In the name of your Lawgiver and your Judge, I entreat you now, — "prepare to meet your God:' 44 SERMON III ETHICAL. FORESIGHT OF FUTURITY. Jer. 8: 7. Yea, the storh in the heaven Tcnoweth her ap- pointed times ; and the turtle, and the crane, and the stoallow, observe the time of their coming ; hut my people know not the judgment of the Lord. This is one of the many examples in which the sagacity of irrational animals is made to reprove the insensibility of men. The stork is said to be a pattern of filial affection, in the fidelity with which it feeds and defends its parent bird, even unto death. That her nest may be elevated above the reach of danger from the hand of man, she makes " the fir trees her house." At the approach of winter she escapes to a southern chmate, and re- turns with the approach of summer. The same instinct governs the turtle, the crane, and the swallow, who " observe the time of their coming." The return of these birds of passage from their winter migration, is thus alluded to in the Song of Solo- mon, describing the charming scenery of spring in Palestine. FORESIGHT OF FUTURITY. 347 " Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the tmtle is heard in our land." The purpose for which the ilkistration of the text was intro- duced by the prophet is briefly this. The Jewish people had become bold in sin. Even their religious teachers contributed to the general depravity, by crying peace, peace, to these trans- gressors, till they were not at all ashamed of their abominations. The time was near at hand when God had threatened that he would give them " gall to drink," for their iniquities. Jeremi- ah told them, that the Chaldeans were coming to invade the land, and devour all that was in it. Yet they rushed on, with an utter heedlessness of consequences ; a heedlessness that was rebuked and shamed by the prudent foresight of the stork, the turtle, and the swallow, in flying from the storms of winter. The text thus explained, suggests as the subject of this dis- course, a general principle, of great practical importance, — namely ; That the present conduct of men should be regula- ted BY A WISE foresight OF FUTURITY. The illustration of this principle may be pursued under three enquiries ; — To what extent, — by what means, — and for WHAT reasons, should we thus anticipate futurity ? First, to what extent may we foresee events that are yet future ? In some respects doubtless the power of doing this is very limited. That comprehensive, intuitive foresight, which is im- plied in the divine omniscience, is very difierent from any thing which belongs to minds that are of yesterday and know compar- atively nothing. So complex is the system of things in this world, so variously are remote consequences affected by the op- eration of a thousand causes, hidden from human view, that in many respects, futurity is a word of nearly the same meaning as uncertainty. On this ground stands the argument for a di- vine revelation, which is drawn from prophecy ; because the in- fallible prediction of what is future belongs only to him who 348 ETHICAL. " knows the end from the beginning." When we speak of human foresight, therefore, we do not mean omniscience ; we do not mean intuition. We mean only that regard to futurity which is founded on evidence, and which becomes rational beings. This, of course, must be different in degree, according to cir- cumstances. In some cases, the possibility of an occurrence hereafter, ought to have much the same influence on us as its certainty. For example, the infidel disbelieves a state of eter- nal retribution for the wicked ; he calls on the Christian to de- monstrate its certainty ; but he cannot pretend to know that there is not such a state. He cannot demonstrate that hell is an impossibility. As a prudent man then, on his own princi- ples, he ought to act as though he knew it were a reality. For as Locke most emphatically says, " If the worst that can hap- pen to the believer if he mistake, be the best that can happen to the unbeliever, if he be right, who without madness can run the venture ? V/ho in his senses would choose to come within the possibility of infinite misery ?" But besides considerations like these, there is a proper re- gard to futurity resting on evidence, wdiich sometimes amounts to probability, and sometimes to certainty. For example ; that each individual of this assembly will die, is certain ; that most of us shall die by some sort of disease, is probable ; but by what disease, when, ivhere, in what circumstances as to our bodily or mental state, or our relation to survivors, is wholly unknown. That all of us shall die is certain ; that one or more of our num- ber will die this year, is probable ; that most of us shall die within fifty years, is more probable ; that all of us shall die within one hundred years, is still more probable ; and that none of us shall live for twice that period, is quite certain. — Again ; that any individual of this assembly, who shall perseveringly reject the gospel, Avill perish forever, is certain ; that some of us may be of the unhappy number, who will thus perish, is 2)^obable. But how many, and who, of all that sit in these seats to-day, will remain impenitent, and go away from the presence of God, FORESIGHT OF FUTURITY. 349 into everlasting punishment, God knows, but it is impossible for us to foresee. In respect to the arrangements of Providence that will regu- late the affairs of our lives hereafter, we are, for the most part, in equal uncertainty. As to health and sickness ; place of abode ; relative duties, trials and enjoyments ; and as to the means and measure of our usefulness, the extent of our foresight seldom reaches beyond probability, and often amounts to nothing. God in his wisdom saw it not best that any man should have the means of anticipating exactly what will happen to him, from day to day. Such a disclosure of futurity would go far to frustrate the exhilarating and sustaining influence of hope ; and to de- stroy a thousand motives to energy in action, which derive all their power from uncertainty. But futurity is not wholly concealed behind a veil. Certain things must be foreknown, as essential to a state of probation, and as involved in the daily hopes and duties of Christians. Such is the perpetuity of our own existence ; the safety and ul- timate triumph of the church ; the eternal consequences con- nected with a holy or sinful character, formed in this world. Besides such things as these, there are others, which we must view as so certain, or at least so probable, that our conduct should be regulated by a wise regard to consequences. We proceed then to enquire. Secondly, — Bt/ what means are we thus to foresee the events of futurity. Nothing supernatural is to be supposed in this case. Pagan- ism has resorted to its systems of necromancy, to rend away the veil which hides a dark and dreaded hereafter, because a guilty conscience sees or fancies some hand-writing on the wall, or shudders at some death-watch, or some dream that calls for an interpreter. And doubtless we are not aware how much pagan- ism and atheism too, God sees in Christian lands, disguised un- der the various forms of regard to omens, and lucky days, and appeals to chance, all of which are a virtual denial of his provi- dential government. But the means of foresight which I am 350 ETHICAL. now to mention are only such as God has ordained. These are two, experience and revelation. To judge from experience what is probable or certain hereaf- ter, is the province of reason. The ground of judgment in this case, lies in that uniform course of events, from which we con- clude that the future will resemble the past. In what are called the laws of nature, we calculate on a stated connexion of causes and effects. On this principle we know that water will flow downwards from the summits of mountains, and not in the con- trary direction ; — that animal bodies are sustained by food, and destroyed by fire or poison. We know that the light to-day will be followed by the darkness of night, and that the night will be followed by another day. On this regularity depend all hu- man plans of business. Who could navigate the ocean, if there were no regularity in polar attraction, or in the movements of the sun ? Who could till the earth, if there were no uniformity in the seasons ? Who could travel a journey, if he could have no foresight as to the length of the day ? Who could provide for his family, if it were wholly uncertain whether the winter would last one week, or one year ? In the laws of mind too, there is a uniformity similar to that which exists in the material world. Understanding, heart, con- science, and passions, are attributes of every human mind, which are affected essentially in the same manner by the same causes. If it were not so, civil government and social relations must cease. No laws could be framed for any community or any family. No reliance could be placed on any system of instruc- tion, or argument, or persuasion. For who would undertake to Instruct or move his fellow men, if there were no tendency in argu- ment to convince, or in motive to excite ? Amidst the great diversities of intellect and temper among men, there are points of resemblance, that are nearly universal ; and from these, a careful observer may often predict the conduct of voluntary agents, with as much certainty as the astronomer calculates an eclipse. It was no accident that the sagacious Burke foresaw so exactly, the results of the French revolution. FORESIGHT OF FUTURITY. 351 Now the lessons of experience are not useful merely to the philosopher, and the reader of history. They are intelligible to common men, and on common subjects. They constitute a code of laws which every prudent man carries with him, and instinct- ively applies in his daily conduct. On this principle of foresight from experience, the best sys- tems of education are founded. The influence of youthful hab- its, in forming the whole character, leads us to estimate the prospects of manhood from the promise of early life. In the same way we predict the salutary or baneful influence of paren- tal example on the young, as that influence is good or bad. We predict that one man will become the victim of intem- perance,— that another will be poor, and another rich, from the usual connexion of causes and effects as we see them in expe- rience. On this principle we all act in common affairs. We would not scruple to take a nauseous drug to avoid a fever ; — nor to part with a mortified limb to save life ; — nor to lighten a sinking ship, for our own preservation, by throwing our goods into the sea. Should a man come to you with a dose of arsenic, as a healthful medicine, and say, the world have always been mista- ken in thinking it a mortal poison ; — swallow it, and you shall receive no harm. Would you listen to him ? No, — you would look on him as an insane man or a murderer ; you would listen to experience, which says — swallow it, and you will not live one day. The other means of foresight to which I alluded is revelation. This is the province of faith. " Noah built an ark, to the sa- ving of his house." Why ? He foresaw that d. flood was com- ing. How did he foresee this ? " Being warned of God." The men of that generation too, had the same means of knowing that a deluge would come, — the warning of God. They were told this for one hundred and twenty years, by Noah. But they had no faith, and therefore no foresight of the event, " till the flood came, and took them all away." God warned Pharaoh ; " Tomorrow, about this time, I will 352 ETHICAL. cause a very grievous hail, such as hath not been in Egypt since the foundation thereof; every man and beast, that shall be found in the field, shall die. He that feared the word of the Lord, made his servants and cattle flee into the houses ; and he that regarded not the word of the Lord, left his servants and cattle in the field." At the appointed time the hail came, and smote all that were in the field, man and beast. These men that perished in the field might have found a shelter, as well as others ; they had the same seasonable warning with others. Why did they not fore- see the coming destruction ? — They had no fear of the Lord, — no faith that his threatening would be executed. When the approaching overthrow of Sodom was announced to Lot, he fled to Zoar. Why did not his sons in law escape al- so ? Surely they might have foreseen what was coming ; they were warned of God, " Get you out of this place, for the Lord will destroy this city." To mention no more examples of this sort, there are many future things which reason and experience could teach, either not at all, or very imperfectly, which faith foresees by a confident reliance on the declarations of God, Thus Abraham " foresaw Christ's day, and rejoiced." Thus *' David in spirit called him Lord, when he saw his glory and spake of him." Thus Isaiah foresaw the cross erected, and the sufiering Saviour expiring on it. With the same certainty, though not inspired, the believer now may know beforehand, that whatever God has spoken will be accomplished. Has God said " He that believeth shall be saved ?" — it must be so. Has God said, " He that believeth not shall be damned ? These shall go away, into everlasting punishment ?" — it must be so : reason may speculate, — unbelief may doubt and dispute ; but faith listens with reverence to God, and foresees the unquench- able fire prepared for the wicked, and the " smoke of their torment ascending up forever and ever." Thus it is that reason foresees future things, as probable or certain, in the light of experience. And thus it is that faith, with a clearer vision, foresees, in the light of revelation, many things which are rendered certain by the character or declarations FORESIGHT OP FUTURITY. 853 of God. In this way the believer has a general assurance that the Judge of all the earth will do right. He has a more partic- ular assurance that " The gates of hell shall not prevail against the church ; " — that " all things will work together for good to them that love God ;" that all who embrace the gospel will be happy, and all who reject it will perish. He foresees the so- lemnities of his own dying hour. He foresees that glorious, dreadful day, when the " Son of Man will come in the glory of his Father, with the holy angels ; — will gather all nations before him, and sever the wicked from among the just ; — when the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll, and pass away with a great noise ; — the elements shall melt with fervent heat ; — the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burnt up." Nevertheless, the believer, according to promise, " looks for new heavens, and a new earth, wherein dvvelleth righteousness." The apostle Peter, having surveyed these awful scenes of futu- rity, speaks of scoffers who make a jest of them all, " saying, where is the promise of his coming ?" But very different, he says, should be the feelings of Christians ; " seeing that all these things shall be dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be, in all holy conversation and godliness ; looking for and hast- ing unto the coming of the day of God. Wherefore, beloved, seeing that ye look for such things, be diligent, that ye may be found of him in peace, without spot and blameless." But if God has thus given us the means, in his providence and word, of acting with a wise foresight of futurity ; let us proceed to inquire, Thirdly, For what reasons should we act in this manner ? I. It is a sufficient reason for doing so, that this is only ex- ercising a PROPER CONFIDENCE IN GoD. When he told the wicked Jews that, if they did not repent, the Chaldean sword should desolate their nation, as I have said already, they might have foreseen the approaching ruin. To go on heedlessly, till the calamity came, was a thousand times more unreasonable than the conduct of the sio7-k, that had 7io reason, but saw the 45 354 ETHICAL. signs of the heavens, and fled away from the approaching teiu' pests. And still more unreasonable is the conduct of immortal beings, who live as though there were no promises nor threat- enings, no disclosures of an eternal hereafter, in the Bible. Besides, the regard to futurity which God requires of us, is only a proper respect to his providence. There is a common extreme on this subject, consisting in an anxious, apprehensive state of mind about things that belong only to God, or things of which he has made no disclosure to us. It is a want of confi- dence that God will do what is best. For example ; good men sometimes indulge excessive anxiety for the safety of the church. They speak of its dangers, in a strain of unbelief, as though the cause of truth were about to be utterly overthrown. They are in much the same state of mind with a man on shipboard, for the first time ; — a stranger to navigation, he is afraid that the pi- lot will commit some mistake ; he is alarmed at every change of the wind, and every movement of the ship, — expecting that something ivill happen, he knows not what. But God has not committed the care of the church to us ; — wo to its interests if he had. He has not made us responsible for the safety of the church. That is in good hands. " Therefore will we not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be car- ried into the midst of the sea ; though the waters thereof roar and be troubled. Blessed, O Lord of hosts, is the man that trusteth in thee." In respect to individual interests too, there is often an anx- ious looking forward, which arises from distrust of providence. God has disclosed to us so much of futurity as enables us to do our duty. Here we must rest. All anxiety as to his secret purposes concerning ourselves, which have no respect to our duty ; all restless desire to read the ivhole hooTc of providence, when he is pleased to show us only a single page, is a meddling with divine prerogatives, as sinful as it is unwise. But there is an opposite extreme. It is a blind trust in prov- idence ; a kind of Christian fatalism. It folds its hands and looks upward, with a presumptuous assurance that God will not FORESIGHT OF FUTURITY. 355 only govern the world, but will also do what belongs to men. This we have no right to expect. If you know your house to be on fire, and sit still, because your safety depends on provi- dence, according to the settled law of that providence, you will be consumed. That providence accomplishes ends, only by means. Now, between this restless anxiety, on the one hand, and this presumptuous confidence, on the other, a wise regard to futurity resigns the throne and the sceptre to God, and leaves to man, with all his powers and motives and means of knowledge, only one grand concern, and that is to do his present duty. Hence, A second reason ivhy we should, act ivith a wise foresight of futurity is, it avill promote our usefulness. He that acts without plan, or whose plan contravenes the settled arrangements of providence, will act to no good purpose. Does the mer- chant wish to make a successful voyage ? he studies the market, and freights his ship, and plans her destination, with a careful regard to circumstances and probable results. Would the mar- iner reach his port ? he looks at his compass, watches the as- pects of the heavens, changes his helm and sails, with the chang- ing winds and currents. So it should be in all human pursuits. Will that student become a man of knowledge, and a useful man, who has no plan of study ? Who dreams away one half of his time in doing nothing, and spends the other half at random, in reading books of no value ? — and that have no tendency to qual- ify him for serving God, and his generation ? Birds know bet- ter than this. Insects know better than this. " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways and be wise ; which having neither guide, overseer, nor ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest." But to secure usefulness, it is not enough that we act from plan ; it must be plan such as God approves. Most men live to little purpose, because they " look at things seen and temporal, and forget things unseen and eternal." They act from present impulse, and for the present moment. 356 ETHICAL. Had the Puritans of the seventeenth century been common men, how easily might they have escaped the fetters, and dungeons, and various forms of martyrdom, which they endured ? It was only to do what thousands of others did ; it was only to make conscience bend to authority and custom. They might in one moment have professed to believe, what they did not believe, and promised to do what God had forbidden ; and then they might have been quiet in their own houses, and many of them might have been earls, and dukes, and dignitaries in church and state. But these holy men acted from higher principles. These dar- ing spirits, trained in the fires of persecution, were not afraid of death. Cesar, at the summit of his power, with all his victo- rious legions, could not have subdued their more than Roman heroism. He might have hewed them limb from limb ; but every one of them would have died a conqueror. Had those men bowed before the storm that beat upon them, what would the world have been in the nineteenth century ? Shrouded in moral and political darkness. So far as we can judge, the preeminent advantages of this age, are owing, under God, chiefly to the spirit of the Puritans. And what was the secret of their ener- gy ? They acted not merely for the jpresent moment, as too many of us do, but for hereafter. They acted for God, (ov posterity, for eternity. O, my young brethren, would you be useful men ? Study the character of the Puritans. Study the character of the patriarchs, in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews. Learn there the connexion which God has established between present and posthumous usefulness. Act from a principle of faith ; act, every one of you, with his eye on hereafter ; then it may be said of you too, " being dead, he yet speaketh ;" and then, without presumption, you nsay say of yourselves, like another son of this Seminary,* " We are little men, but our influence must be felt around the globe." O when shall we get back again to the wisdom of our fathers, and learn that all our col- leges and schools should be founded for Christ and the church ; * Rf.'v. S. J. Mills. FORESIGHT OF FUTURITY. 357 — that all our individual, and Christian, and literary enter- prises should he planned on the same sacred principle ; and should be consecrated to the glory of God, and the good of coming generations ! In another view, this wise regard to futurity will promote our usefulness, by regulating our anticipations. Why is it that this world is so full of sighs, and sad faces, and broken hearts ? Why is it that even Christians and ministers often live under a dark cloud, and become peevish, irresolute, inactive, and per- haps sink into a mopish melancholy ? They are disappointed men. They have cherished a thousand childish expectations, not authorised by the providence or the word of God. The stroke that awakened them from Elysian dreams of happiness, sunk them in despondence. But a wise foresight of futurity, moderates our hopes from this world ; it prevents disappoint- ment, prepares us for trials, sustains our resolution, and fortifies our hearts for unremitted and vigorous discharge of duty. I will barely mention another way in which the same prin- ciple will promote our usefulness, by stimulating our efforts. Why is it that nine tenths of the world are behind-hand in their work, both for time and eternity ? It is an unwise reliance on hereafter. It is an indefinite postponement of present duty, in the hope of a more convenient season. But he who has been well instructed, knows that futurity will come to us, laden with its own duties. He knows that tomorrow will not be long enough for the labor oitwo days ; that the proper work of to-day, must be done to-day. He works with his eye towards the sun, and as he sees that hastening to set, he doubles his diligence. This introduces the last topic of my discourse, which I will mention as a Third reason why we should act with a wise regard to futu- rity, and that is, — it will prepare us to die. Our immortal existence, my dear hearers, is but just begun. What is fast of this existence, has been momentary ; — what is to come will be eternal. Our futurity then, is comparatively our all. And what is to be the condition of this futurity ? Happy 358 ETHICAL. or miserable, according to the character we form in the present life. And how long will this life last ? Ask experience, ask revelation ; — both are silent. " I must work the works of him that sent me," said the Saviour," while it is day ; — the night Cometh, in which no man can work." Some of you, who listen to this discourse, probably have not begun the work which God has given you to do. Now you are on trial for an endless here- after. There will be no season of probation beyond the grave. Your whole eternity is suspended on the fleeting moment that remains of this short life. Soon you must die; — and then, — your state will be unalterably fixed. O, can you think of this, and forget the long futurity that is before you ? Can you think of this, and feel easy while your preparation for that futurity is not begun ? You know that, even in this seat of sacred learning, distin- guished by most important privileges, as a place of residence, there is no guarantee of life. Since I first saw this place, death has continually gone his wonted rounds among us ; — he has en- tered nearly every dwelling of this neighborhood, and some of them repeatedly. Once and again, God has seen fit to clothe these families in mourning, and has called them to mingle their sympathies with each other, and with a dying world around them, in scenes of severe suffering and bereavement. " Our fathers," too, — who laid the foundation of these Institutions, and cherished them by their counsels and prayers, " Our fathers, where are they ?"* Their course on earth is finished; — they rest from their labors, and their works follow them. Venerable men ! — they were prepared to die. They had acted for God, and for posterity ; — acted from the far-reaching plans of a compre- hensive benevolence, embracing the remotest corrrers of the globe, and the utmost limits of time. Truly, they were pre- * Since my connexion witli the Theological Seniinarj', seven of its Trustees have been removed hj' death, — six of its Visitors, — and six of its earliest and greatest benefactors, male and female ; — leaving, of the honored number last alluded to, and of the original Board of Vis- itors, only a single survivor. FORESIGHT OF FUTURITY. 359 pared to die, — in the triumphs of an exalted faith, that could look downward on ages to come, and anticipate the results of their own instrumentality, under God, in hastening forward the millennial glory of the church. — Like them, live then for God and for futurity. Live so that survivors shall have reason to bless God, for the influence which you have exerted on those around you ; and then, you too will be prepared to die. And should no sculptured marble designate the spot where your mor- tal remains moulder to dust ; should no name or memorial of you be preserved among the living, still, your witness will be in heaven, and your record on high. My dear hearers, I would not if I could, and could not if I would, lift the veil of futurity which conceals the hour, when you will be summoned into the presence of your Judge. But there is one thing concerning you, which I know w-ith absolute certainty, — you are siimers. Another thing I know, — you must die, — and may die soon. And one more thing I know, — if you are strangers to repentance and faith, you are not prepared to die. And oh, — shoidd you die unprepared, what will become of you forever? Think of this. Your whole futurity may hang on the present moment. Think of this, — now. SERMON IV. HISTORICAL. RELIGIOUS DECISION. Daniel 6: 10.* Noiv when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house ; and his windows being open in his chamber, towards Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his Tcness, three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime. The man whose inflexible piety is here recorded, was a descendant from the royal family of David ; and, while yet a youth, was carried captive to Babylon. To understand the text, we must look at the facts mentioned in the preceding history. The astrologers and magicians of Babylon were summoned by a royal mandate, to explain to Nebuchadnezzar, a very per- * Bishop Horne has a sermon on this text, which first suggested to me the piu'pose of preaching on it myself. His object, however, and mine are so different, that there is almost no resemblance between the two discourses, except that occasional coincidence of remark, which is unavoidable in exhibiting the same fads. X^ RELIGIOUS DECISION. 361 plexing dream, which had wholly escaped from his recollection. In a tone of arbitrary authority he made the demand ; ' Tell me this dream, which is gone from me, and the interpretation thereof, or you shall be cut in pieces, and your houses be made a dung-hill.' The astrologers replied, that the thing was im- possibh ; that no king or ruler ever made such a demand from any magician ; that if he could repeat the dream, they were ready to give the interpretation. The king's answer was short and decisive ; ' Tell me the dream, and then I shall know that ye can show the interpretation thereof.' But if you will not do this, you are deceivers, and there is but one decree for you. An edict was accordingly issued, that all the wise men of Babylon should be destroyed, and the chief Captain was charged with its execution. Daniel was of course proscribed with the rest. In this emergency, his God enabled him to reveal the dream, and give the interpretation. Surprised at this discovery, the king fell on his face before the prophet, loaded him with marks of his princely favor, and made him governor over all Babylon. From this time, Daniel continued in high reputation, so that when Darius the Persian came to the throne, he was made Prime minister of the empire. The native princes of the country viewed with malignant envy the elevation of this stran- ger, and resolved on his ruin. But enmity itself, baffled in its search for his faults, was obliged to pronounce his eulogy, in the very act of plotting his destruction : " We shall not find any occasion against this Daniel, unless we find it against him con- cerning the law of his God." By the dexterous flattery of these statesmen, Darius was in- duced to publish an edict, that — " Whosoever shall ask a peti- tion of any god or man, save of the king, for thirty days, shall be cast into the lions' den." What could Daniel do in this per- ilous conjuncture ? Abjure his God, and his closet ? — or fly to some secret refuge, fiorn the storm that was gathering to burst on his head ? The text informs us what he did. " Now when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house ; and his windows being open in his chamber, towards Jerusalem, 46 362 HISTORICAL. he kneeled upon his knees, three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime." Here is a sim- ple exhibition of that magnanimity, which arises from consistent and decided piety. The subject ivhich this example suggests for our consideration, is religious decision. The importance of this character in a good man, will be man- ifest, if we duly attend to the two following enquiries, — What things are implied in religious decision ; and what are its jjractical operations 1 I. What things are implied in the character of re- ligious DECISION. Among the particulars which time will permit me to mention, under this head, I begin with observing, that it implies a clear AND STEADY PERCEPTION OF TRUTH AND DUTY. The higot may be heroic in action or suffering, while his be- lief is mere assent to authority, without rational conviction, and without evidence. He does not examine, and compare, and reason. It is enough for him that he thinks as he thinks ; Df course, his opinions never change by argument. This is not decision, but obstinacy. On the opposite extreme, the ficJcle man forms and changes his opinions at random. Like the caprice of childhood, his creed and his conduct, even in the momentous concerns of reli- gion, are determined by the transient impulse of circumstances ; so that he is " tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine." In respect to religious opinions, and more or less in respect to all opinions, want of stability arises very much from want of clear, and comprehensive views. The man who is satisfied with looking at one part of a subject, will form a partial opinion of that subject. When he looks at another part of the same sub- ject, he will form a different opinion ; and thus, while the sub- ject remains the same, his judgment concerning it will vary, just according to the aspect in which he has happened to see it last ; while a view of the whole subject at once, would have given him a consistent, settled opinion, subject to no fluctuation. So RELIGIOUS DECISION. 863 far as any one is influenced by religious principle, he dares not form opinions as to any momentous subject, on a partial and transient glance at that subject. The fervent Christian, I am aware, may entertain narrow views on some subjects, which views deserve no better name than bigotry. This however springs not from the nature, but from the defectiveness of his religion. At the same time, the unlettered Christian, in his simple reliance on the testimony of God, may have a belief as immovable, and as rational too, even on a mysterious subject, as though he were a philosopher. But the kind of decision which I am describing, is connected only with enlightened piety. Now the man of genuine decision, in judging what is true, or what is right, knows how to use his own understanding. With implicit deference to the word of God, as a perfect standard in religious enquiries, he searches and thinks for himself. He thinks independently ; superior both to that pride of singularity, which is predisposed to reject received opinions, and to that servile acquiescence, which bows to their authority, without ex- amination. He thinks impartially, unbiassed by passion or prejudice. He thinks clearly and systematically. His eye penetrates, at a glance, those mists which obscure the vision of common minds. Not satisfied with surveying the exterior of subjects, he examines principles, weighs opposing evidence, and pursues the investigation to a regular result. This gives strength and stability to his opinions. Why should he be timid and wa- vering, while there is firm footing under him at every step ? He neither believes nor acts without reasons ; reasons which he sees distinctly ; which he weighs deliberately ; which he can exhibit and explain to others ; and therefore he is above those fluctuations of character, to which feeble and indecisive men are liable. Another ingredient essential to religious decision, is recti- tude OF DESIGN. Men without the aids of religion, 1 am aware, have often ex- hibited gTe?it firmness and dignity of spirit. History and poet- ry have blazoned the dauntless intrepidity of military heroes, 364 HISTORICAL. and the magnanimity of patriots and sages, who have figured in the tragedies of the world. Many an ancient heathen possessed the same noble independence of him whom the poet meant to celebrate by saying, " He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Nor Jove for his power to thunder." In the native structure of their minds, some men are distin- guished by strength of intellect, daring resolution, and superior- ity to whatever is mean in action. At the same time we see that the page of history which records the most memorable achievements of human energy, is often tarnished with the blackest stains of human guilt. That terrible energy of wick- edness, which sometimes resembles the whirlwind in its desolat- ing effects, falls far below the greatness of real constancy. It is always associated with some radical w^eakness in the elements of the soul. It is the offspring of malignant passions, or of pride. It is often the mere ostentation of boldness, while the heart trembles at the " sound of a shaken leaf." " Conscience makes cowards " of guilty men. Its accusations produce misgiving and dismay. " The wicked flee when no man pursiieth, but the righteous are bold as a lion." The man of religious integrity has no inward trepidation. He is calm, firm and steady, in his purposes and actions. Another thing requisite to this stahility of character, is co- incidence OF THE JUDGMENT, THE PASSIONS AND HABITS. The leading principle of action in one man, is to stand well in the opinion of his fellow men. Custom is his law, and his conduct must vary Avith the changes of custom, as the weather- cock veers to every point of the compass with the changes of the wind. Another is governed by selfish interest, and is therefore subject to endless fluctuations of character, according to the ever varying influence which circumstances have, or are supposed to have, on his favorite objects. Another is governed by occasional excitements. The animal or intellectual temper- ament is so constituted, that reason is not supreme but subordi- RELIGIOUS DECISION. 365 note, in directing the man. The passions not only interpose their influence, but claim a controlling ascendency over the judgment ; so that you can never predict how the man's judg- ment will decide in a given case, because he is governed by in- fluences which cannot be foreseen. This instability of charac- ter is much increased in some men by bodily temperament ; so that as one remarks, " a lowering sky strongly inclines them to form an opinion of themselves and of other things, very differ- ently from what they would form when the sun shines, and the heavens are serene.^' The understanding and the affections, including the passions, are the two grand principles of action in men. When these are combined in influence, they give the strongest impulse to all the powers of mind and body. The uniform cooperation of these, for any length of time, produces a third influence, which we call habit ; and which exerts a commanding ascend- ency over the conduct. But the slightest acquaintance with men may show us, that these powers may be at variance with each other. Tiie understanding may dissent from the passions ; — one strong passion may dissent from another ; — ambition or sensual- ity may be counteracted by avarice : conscience may remon- strate against inclination ; while habit in defiance of every oth- er principle, may lead the man captive at its will. In such a case, he is divided against himself, and all his movements are marked either with rashness or with hesitation and imbecility. It is thus that some who might be giants in the strength of their piety, are weak as other men. But in the man of consistent and stable piety, these different principles cooperate. The judgment, the conscience, the heart, the passions ; the animal, intellectual, and moral habits, exert a united influence that give strength and dignity to the character. The last thing which I shall mention as requisite to religious decision, is trust in God. In this I include a full belief of his infinite perfection ; a devout regard to his universal and all-dis- posing providence ; a cheerful reliance on his protection, in the discharge of duty ; and, in a word, all those habits of active pi- 366 HISTORICAL. ety, which resuU from communion with God, from the convic- tion that our hearts are naked to his eye, and that every moral agent must receive from him a righteous and eternal retribution. These exaked sentiments give firmness to the heart, and stabil- ity to the actions of their possessor. " They that trust in the Lord shall be as mount Zion which cannot be removed." Such are the qualities of character that constitute religious de- cision. Let us enquire, IL What are its practical operations. In illustrating this head, I shall refer you to the example of that great and good man, whose character furnishes the subject of this discourse, and exhibits the genuine, practical influence of those principles, which we have been considering. From the history of Daniel, it appears that he was, In the FIRST place, eminent for his habits of devotion. This we may learn, not simply from the fact that he visited his closet three times in a day, but that he did this in circumstances peculiarly unfavorable to the cultivation of personal piety. Recollect that while a youth, he was torn away from all the re- lio-ious institutions of his native country, and became a stranger and a captive in a foreign land. There he was surrounded by heathens and infidels ; by the rites of idolatry ; the fascinations of a splendid and impious court ; and all that array of pomp and luxury, and licentiousness, which powerfully tend to withdraw the heart of any man, especially the heart of a young man, from God. Yet the established piety of Daniel was not shaken. Recollect too that he was a very busy man ; being the fii'st of the three presidents of Persia. Such was the confidence reposed in his capacity, integrity, and experience, that on the accession of a new monarch, who was comparatively a stranger to his own dominions, the burden of public afiairs devolved pe- culiarly on this distinguished officer of the government. How does the man of feeble and fluctuating piety regard the duty of prayer ? He performs it with a good degree of uniformity, per- haps, when the world does not thrust itself between his heart and his God. But, when the farm, or the counting-room, the RELIGIOUS DECISION. 367 Study, or the social circle, urge their special claims on the time that should be consecrated to his closet, he -yields without a struggle. Not so with Daniel. Amid all the labors and temp- tations of office, he stood erect, with his eye fixed on heaven, and the earth, and all its little interests under his feet. Busy as he was, this world must keep its place, and not intrude on his hallowed seasons of retirement. Under the cares of a great empire, sufficient to overwhelm a common mind, his steady pi- ety found no excuse for the neglect of prayer. He sought no excuse. He would accept no excuse. Not all the business, nor all the temptations, nor all the authority of Persia could force an excuse upon him. The devotion of Daniel was systematic. He had a stated place of prayer. I know indeed that the worship of God, which is offered " in spirit and in truth," is acceptable in any place ; but he who knew what the world is, and what the heart of man is, saw important reasons for the precept ; " When thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and shut thy door." And any one who shall attempt to hold communion with God, amid the hurry and levity of the steamboat or the stage coach, will under- stand why this steadfast saint in Babylon went into his chamber to pray. He had also stated times of prayer ; " he kneeled upon his knees three times a day." While it must be admitted that this too is a point, which does not belong to the essence of prayer, it is doubtless more important to the life, and comfort, and even existence of a devotional spirit, than is commonly supposed. On this subject, one of the most devout men of modern days, says : " Love is the best casuist, and resolves or prevents a thousand sciuples which perplex those who only serve God from constraint." The humble Christian will not need to be told " how often he must pray, any more than how often he must converse with an earthly friend." Yet whatever other point in Christian experience is unsettled, it is doubtless certain that stated seasons of prayer, are indispensable to the growth of piety. The man who is so much the slave of circumstances, in 368 HISTORICAL. common affairs as to forego his regular food, and exercise, and rest, may live, but cannot tnjoy life ; he cannot, for any long time, possess vigorous health of body. He who has so little firmness of religious principle, as to intermit his regular, secret devotions, from indolence or hurry, or complaisance to friends, may be a Christian still, perhaps, in a state of temporary but woful backsliding. But certainly he is not a decided, consistent Christian. He does not " keep his own heart with all diligence." He is not prepared for his upward flight, to live in heaven, like Enoch, who " walked with God." Nor yet is he prepared to live in Babylon, like Daniel, who "kneeled upon his knees, three times in a day, and prayed and gave thanks." From the history of Daniel, it appears in the second place, that he was eminent fob courage. The law, you remember, made it death to pray. What would a timid, worldly believer have done in such a case ? At once he would have attempted a compromise betwixt conscience and safety. He would have said, ' why should I sacrifice my life to the malignity of these enemies. Better, for one month not to pray at all ; — or to pray in heart, and omit the form ; or to seek some sequestered place, where my devotions will be un- known to my accusers ; or to lock my door ; — or even to aban- don my house altogether.' But the intrepid Daniel was not so easily driven from his duty. When the alternative came, with- out one moment's hesitation, he was ready to meet it. The simple question was, shall I disobey the king of Babylon, or the king of heaven ? When he knew that the writing was signed, which destined him to the lion's den, not a syllable of apology, of entreaty, or remonstrance, escaped his lips ; nor yet of that defiance, which weakness often assumes in moments of despera- tion. With a greatness of soul, becoming a saint of the most high God, " he went to his chamber, and his window being open towards Jerusalem," alluding to a passage in Solomon's prayer at the dedication of the temple, " he kneeled upon his knees, — as he did aforetime.'' Here is the energy and dignity of true courage. In the prospect of a terrible death, you see RELIGIOUS DECISION. 369 no change in the man ; no display, no concealment of his devo- tions ; no policy to elude, resist, or retaliate the measures of his enemies ; no petition to Darius or to Jehovah for their destruc- tion. Now, my hearers, all the steady resolution, and tranquillity of this exalted man, is explained by one simple principle, — he knew that he was doing his duty. Do we esteem courage a great and admirable quality ? Let us seek to understand it. Real courage is consistent with fear. Not the fear that shrinks from personal suffering, from the frown of power, or the sneer of fools ; but that shrinks from doing ivrong. The guilty worm, that writhes under the anguish of a colic, or a broken limb, and starts at the thought of death ; and yet defies his Ma- ker's wrath, and jests with damnation, may be called brave. The youth, who spurns the awful denunciations of the Bible, as well as the grave counsels of experience, and plunges into the gulf of licentiousness, may be hailed by his fellows in sin, as superior to vulgar weakness, and be called brave. The man whose chief dignity consists in understanding the point of honour ; with whom there is no law but the caprice of passion, no tribunal but single combat, no shame to be avoided but the reproach of mad- men, and no atonement to be accepted for the slightest affront, but the expiation of blood ; may be called brave. The har- dened veteran in sin, who ends his life by poison or the pistol, and rushes unprepared into the presence of his God, may be called brave. Yes, and the maniac, who leaps from a preci- pice, may be called brave. But in the sober estimate which religion attaches to human conduct, that resolution which acts before it deliberates, is rash- ness ; that which acts from no principle but regard to human opinions, is pusillanimity ; that which acts without reason, is folly ; that which acts against reason, is obstinacy or phrenzy. And what is the courage of the established Christian ? Is it a haughty indifference to the feelings of others ? — an ostentatious independence, that erects itself in contempt of obligations hu- man and divine ? It is the dignity of religious jjrincijjte, which 47 370 HISTORICAL. in the eye of a good man, sinks all other objects into insignifi- cance, compared with his duty to God. In things indifferent he walks with the world. No studied preciseness in trifles marks his character. But does he come to a point where con- science doubts whether an action is right ? There he stops, and considers. Does he clearly see that action to be ivrong ? There he stops, — and stands. Urge him to go on ; — entice him ; — threaten him ; — there he stands inflexible ; and if the case requires it, stands alone against an opposing world. Let ridicule sneer ; let importunity plead ; let authority frown, he is prepared for the shock. The scoffs of dying tongues he dares to encounter ; the terrors of the stake, the gibbet, or the lions' den, he dares to encounter. But there are things that he dares not do ; — he is not bold enough to defy his God ; he has not courage to rush into everlasting burnings. Look now at the savage ivarrior, whose courage is ferocity ; at the infidel, whose boldness is impious audacity ; at the duel- list, whose honor is ignominy and whose intrepidity is madness ; at the military chief, whose boasted thirst of glory, and con- tempt of death, push him on to the cannon's mouth, while " he trembles, perhaps at his own shadow in a church-yard ;" and I affirm that the heroism of Daniel is superior to all that has been celebrated under the name of courage, by the splendid monu- ments, and the clamorous war-shouts of a misjudging world. Nor does this great man stand alone as an example of the hero- ism which religion inspires. I might point you to Paul, singing m the dungeon at Philippi ; to Luther, braving the thunders of the Vatican ; to that female martyr who said, " I cannot dispute for Christ, but I can die for him ;" to the hallelujahs of Latimer and Ridley, triumphing at the stake, and ascending to glory in chariots of fire. I might point you to the aged Eleazar, high priest of the Jewish church, whom the haughty Antiochus re- quired to abjure his religion. "Prepare your instruments of torment," said the venerable man, " kindle your flames to a fiercer rage. I stand without fear, amidst your threatening^n- RELIGIOUS DECISION. 371 gines and implements of martyrdom. I will not save these sil- ver locks, by violating the laws of my country and of my God." The time permits me to mention only a few points of reflec- tion suggested by this discourse. The FIRST is, that worldly and skeptical men betray the weakness of their own principles, when they represent the Chris- tian religion as inconsistent with magnanimity. Strangers themselves to the meekness, contrition, and devotion which the gospel enjoins, they suppose these to imply debasement of spirit ; and look for greatness of character only among philosophers and conquerors, whom the world have called illustrious. But what is greatness ? Can we predicate it of man, independently of his qualities as an immortal being ; — or of his actions, inde- pendently of principles and motives ? Then the glitter of no- bility is not superior to the plumage of the peacock ; nor the valor of Alexander, to the fury of a tiger ; nor the sensual de- lights of Epicurus, to those of any animal tliat roams the forest. You must take into the account the relations, the obligations, the prospects of man, before you can determine what conduct is worthy of his rank, as an agent, intelligent, accountable, and immortal. Can that action then, be stamped with littleness, which is commanded and approved by the greatest Being in the universe ? Can that character be honorable whicli leads to " shame and everlasting contempt ?" — or that contemptible, which will be honored before God, and angels, and assembled worlds ? That the unhappy men to whom I have alluded, deceive themselves, on this momentous point, by the mere show of argument, is evident to my mind from one familiar but solemn fact. If the believer is heir to a crown and a kingdom, beyond this momentary life, he may well contemplate the struggles of dissolution, and the coldness of the grave without dismay. Hence the serenity and dignity with which his faith often tri- umphs in the final conflict, and whispers w"ith his last breath, — '' see in what peace a Christian can die." But in that " honest 372 HISTORICAL. hour," where is the magnanimity of the infidel ? — When the voice of conscience is not drowned by the whirl of business, nor the clamor of mirth ; when all is solitude and stillness in the chamber of dissolution ; when the soul is left alone, to its reflec- tions, in the last struggles of mortality, on the brink of a dread- ful, unknown hereafter ; — where is the magnanimity of the in- fidel ? Let the death-bed of Voltaire and of Paine answer. Ml/ SECOND reflection is, that eminent usefulness must be founded on stable piety. The fact that Daniel could sustain his load of cares, as prime minister for the vast empire of Per- sia, and yet not yield to any interruption of his stated devotions, shows not merely that he possessed uncommon vigor of talent, and skill in business, — it shows more emphatically that the spring of this wonderful energy was religion. Look at this public man : (O that all public men were such as he !) You see him, amidst the bustle of a busi/ court, a diligent student of the Bible. You see him, amidst the excesses of a luxurious court, a man of rigid temperance ; preferring his simple meal of pulse and xvattr, to his portion of the " king's meat and wine." The honor of a really useful man comes not from stars and titles, but from what he is, and what he does. Call him to an elevated station, and he confers dignity upon office, not office upon him. Call him to meet danger, and he is heroic. Call him to achieve a difficult enterprize, and he is great in action. But would you know the secret of his strength ? Look to his inward principles ; his clear and comprehensive views of duty, iiis self-consistency, his conscious integrity, his trust in God. That man cannot slumber nor trifle away life, in a world where so much is to be done. He is an active man ; active for God ; active, too, from motives that bear the light, and seek no cover of artifice. He loses no time in crooked devices. He stoops not to that cunning, which, while it dexterously circumvents others, promotes a man's influence to-day, and ruins it the rest of his life. He acts with a discretion, that looks at means and consequences, in distinction from that rashness which makes ef- forts, and then asks ivhat is to be done, and hoic and u-here is it RELIGIOUS DECISION. 373 to be done ? The man of useful action is ardent. Obstacles that baffle weakness, increase his resolution. At the same time he is unostentatious. The power that sustains and guides the planets acts with a noiseless energy. Greatness is simple in its movements. It is above eccentricity and display. " We are more indebted, says one, to the regular, sober, constant course of the sun, than to the glare of the comet. The one indeed occupies our papers, but the other enriches our fields and gar- dens. We gaze at the strangeness of the one, but we live by the influence of the other." In the light of this subject, brethren, what manner of man ought a Christian minister to be ? As a prophet of the living God, Daniel maintained his integrity in Babylon; and when duty required it, boldly carried his message of reproof to the monarch on his throne. The royal mandate that forbid him to pray, he boldly disobeyed. Had he sacrificed his faith and his conscience to the love of popularity, or the favor of his prince, no miraculous deliverance from the lions' den would have called forth Jhe proclamation of Darius, that all his subjects should " tremble before the God of Daniel." The enemies of Christ, honored his intrepid fidelity in the acknowledgment, " We know that thou teacliest the way of God in truth ; for thou re- gardest not the person of man." And for what purpose, I ask, is any one called to minister in holy things, if it is not to teach " the way of God in truth ?" How can he discharge his duties without religious decision and honesty ? In what possible case can integrity, and firmness, and dignity of principle be demanded, if not in him ? He is to preach a religion, against which the prejudices of every unsanctified heart, are arrayed in hostility ; ' a religion which has had to fight its way, by inches, against the opposition of selfishness and superstition ; against the ran- cour of malignity ; the arrogance of power ; the fascination of pleasure ; the sneer of skepticism ; and the fire of persecution.' Enlisted in such a cause, how shall he act ? When he sees his guilty hearers rejecting the only Saviour, and ruining their souls, 374 HISTORICAL. shall he say that they are guilty, — or not ? When he sees them in danger of eternal death, shall he say that they are in danger, — or not ? When he sees error vauntino; itself under the im- posing patronage of fashion, and wealth, and genius, and taste, shall he say that it is error, — or not ? He who seeks only a re- putation or a maintenance from the ministry, may flatter the depravity of his hearers ; but how think you will he stand in the judgment ? What kindred can he claim with the glorified spir- it of Daniel ? Oh, what place in the world of despair awaits him, who thus " prostitutes and shames his noble office," and trifles with the most sacred employment under heaven ! Dear Christian brethren, think on the dread responsibility, under which ive act who are ambassadors of Christ ; and then you will not cease to pray for us, ' that we may open our mouth, and speak boldly, as we ought to speak, the mystery of the gospel.' In the light of this subject, brethren, I ask also, what sort of men ought Christians to be ? And what sort of Christians are they, whose supreme standard of character is conformity to the world ? Who never believe on the simple testimony of God, nor act on his simple authority ; — but who must know what oth- ers around them believe, before they know what is true ; and how others will feel and act, before they know what is right 1 We must say that if they are Christians at all, in the tem- perament and tone of their piety, they are at a woful, woful remove from the spiiit of Daniel and Paul. Finally ; — there is one more question, before I close, which I must ask you, my dear hearers, who are in the habit of neglect- ing prayer. God and your consciences know to whom, in these seats, this character belongs. Suppose then that you had been placed in the circumstances of Daniel, at Babylon, my question is, how would you have felt and acted? If the remoteness of the scene renders it difficult for you to frame an answer, let us vary the question. Suppose you were told to-day, that the supreme authority of your own country have enacted a law, which forbids you to offer a single prayer to God, on penalty of imprisonment and death ; — how would you feel ? At once you UELIGIOUS DECISION. 375 would exclaim, — oppressive, unreasonable, cruel law! — Cruel law ? — Say then, is there no crudtij to your own soul, in that voluntary choice of your heart, which shuts you out from all the blessedness of communion with God ? — which bars up the door of your closet, and denies you all access to the Father of your spirit ? Yes, — there is a tyranny in that voluntary alienation ol your heart from God, which is more a-uel than any tyranny of eastern despotism. It debars you from happiness now, and, if continued, it will render your damnation so certain, that no de- cree of earth or of heaven could make it more inevitable. O ye prisoners of hope ! whom God has made free, — and made candidates for an eternity of joy, why will you put forth your hands, and bind yourselves with chains of eternal darkness, to be outcasts from God and happiness ! — To-day, he invites you to live ; — why will you die ! SERMON V. HORTATORY. THE CARELESS SINNER WARNED. Isaiah 1 : 18. Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord. The people of Judah, to whom this language was addressed, had become great sinners. Even their appointed feasts and sol- emn meetings were an abomination to him who " looketh on the heart." The only alternative before them was deep repentance, or speedy ruin. In these circumstances, God, by his prophet, called them to pause in their career of sin, and think on their own condition and prospects. To the same duty he calls every careless sinner in this assem- bly to-day. Could a stranger from a distant world step into this place of worship, and be told the religious advantages which we enjoy, and the obligations which rest upon us, doubtless he would take it for granted that every individual here is a real Christian. But no one who has lived in this world, and had any just views concerning the moral state of its inhabitants, would feel authorised to take this for granted, concerning any THE CARELESS SINiNER WARNED. 377 promiscuous assembly of human beings. On the contrary, with- out pretending to know any heart, must I not, as a preacher of the gospel, presume that some of you, my dear hearers, are without God, in the world ? Are not some of you perfectly conscious that such is your present condition ? You have heard perhaps hundreds of sermons, which you considered as ad- dressed to others. I ask you now, each one individually, to lis- ten to this sermon, as addressed to you in particular. It is ad- dressed, not to your passions at all, but to your understanding and conscience. The range of my remarks will unavoidably be more miscellaneous than is commonly proper in a sermon, — but nothing will be said which you cannot easily comprehend and remember. You have hitherto neglected a serious atten- tion to religion, as the one thing needful ; — and you purpose, at present to continue in the same neglect. Is this course justifia- ble ? Is it safe ? Is it right ? " Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord." If the tomb which receives your mortal remains, were to cov- er in oblivion your character and actions, then might you say with careless levity, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." But if a few short years, at the utmost, will usher you in- to the unchanging realities of eternity, can it be proper for you to pass heedlessly on, without any serious reflection, and yet without any hope beyond the grave ? Certainly it cannot be proper. Let us proceed then to look at some of those consid- erations, which demand your present and solemn attention. I. You know that you have a rational existence. You see the glorious orbs which shine above you, roll on and measure out your days. You find yourself possessed of a body, " fear- fully and wonderfully made." You find a thinking existence within you ; — something distinct from all that appertains to mat- ter ; — something that perceives, remembers, loves, and hates. You find yourself an inhabitant of this earth, — for what ? Is this life your alll Was your soul formed, with its noble facul- ties, just to wake into a momentary existence and then be ex- tinguished in annihilation ? Do you believe that you were 48 378 HORTATORY. placed here, like the poor brutes, to eat and drink, breathe and walk, and sigh, a few days, and then sink into eternal night and nothing 1 No ; — a response comes from every bosom, — no. I shall outlive time and all its changes. When " the sun is turned to darkness and the stars to dust," I shall exist still in some unknown hereafter. 2. I shall presume that you believe the existence of a God. The fool may say in his heart, there is none ; but certainly no serious doubt on this point can be the dictate of any man's un- derstanding. Whence came this system of things that sur- rounds us ? Who raised this mighty fabric of worlds ? Who preserves it ? Is all this the result of chance 1 Chance is noth- ing ; and nothing cannot produce and govern a system of worlds. Did me7i or angels create the sun and moon and stars and earth ? Men and angels cannot create a fly, nor a blade of grass. Be- sides, how came men and angels by their own existence ! It came from the uncreated God, the former of all things. If there is a God, he is intelligent and omnipotent. He knows all things. Those whom he has made and whom he up- holds every moment, he must see every moment. He must be acquainted with all your actions and purposes. You cannot hide from his searching eye ; you cannot escape out of his do- minion. 3. I shall presume too, that you beheve the Bible to be of divine authority. That it is so, is proved by a flood of evidence which cannot be even noticed in this place. Did I suppose you to entertain any doubt on this point, I would simply ask, concerning any scheme of infidelity that you can name, why are its disciples generally loose in sentiments and morals ? Why do they discard prayer, and all other duties of practical piety ? Why are they so often filled with dismay, at the hour of death ? Those must be bad fmnciples, which make bad men. That scheme must be fallacious, which alienates a creature from his Creator, and in the very proof of his immortality, furnishes a motive to take refuge, in a cheerless skepticism, or in annihila- tion. No prudent man will risk eternal consequences on a bold THE CARELESS SINNER WARNED. 379 presumption, which at the utmost, can give but a momentary- repose in sin ; and then must leave the soul in anguish, without consolation, and without hope. You must therefore admit the Bible to be the word of God, unless you close your eyes against the light ; and regardless of truth and warning, regardless of all that may be joyful or terrible in eternity, resolve to rush up- on the dread experiment. 4. It must be farther presumed, that you believe yourself and all men to be sinful. Here again, if I supposed you to have any doubts, I would ask you to look into the world around you. Read its history. Whence all the penal laws of every age and country, against wickedness, if men are not wicked ? When men make a common bargain, why do they esteem a paper bond, as better security than their neighbor's honesty ? If men are not depraved beings, how comes it to pass that, in every pe- riod, and on every side of the globe, they have universally acted like depraved beings ; and have invariably considered each oth- er as deserving this character ? If you have any doubts con- cerning human depravity, after looking abroad into the world, then look into your own heart. If that is not enough, then look into the Bible. Here you will find the point settled. Here your character is drawn by the unerring pen of inspiration. You are a sinner. 5. You know that God cannot consistently allow the trans- gression of his own law. The honour of his character and the good of the universe require that he should maintain this law. In the exercise of perfect and unlimited benevolence he has threatened an awful destruction to all his impenitent enemies. You know that he is in " one mind and none can turn him." You know that he is able to execute his threatenings. Who then can hope to harden himself against such a God, and pros- per ? The case is plain ; — if you die in your sins, you must lie down in sorrow. 6. The subject now assumes a character of very serious im- portance. In the sober conviction of your own understanding, the point is settled, that you must exist forever ! exist too eith- 380 HORTATORY. er in glory or in despair. Have you ever thought on this amaz- ing subject ? Will you be persuaded to think on it now 7 Have you indeed a soul that must dwell in happiness or misery without end ? What then is the worth of that soul ? Thrones and empires, are trifles in the comparison ! " Earth and skies are dust upon the scale !" We dread exquisite pain, though it be of short continuance ! How do the hearts of the strong and brave sink within them, under the anguish of an acute fever, or a broken limb ? What man in his senses, would deem it a light thing to endure such pain for a thousand years, for one year, or one month ! Who then can dwell with devouring fire ! who can inhabit everlasting burnings ! Eternal misery outstretches and overwhelms human comprehension. Do you believe that there is, verily, such an allotment of suffering for all the ungod- ly ? Can you deliberately view yourself as exposed every mo- ment, to plunge into it, and remain indifferent as an atheist or a stone ? Is it possible that you should feel easy, in such circum- stances, for 07ie hour 1 7. If you have given these considerations their due weight, we are prepared to proceed another step in our reflections. The religion of the gospel opens before us, the only door of hope for perishing sinners. Have you cordially embraced this religion ? Conscience perhaps stirs within you at this searching enquiry, and gives the honest answer, — ' In the midst of light and warnings, I have neglected the great salvation.' Why then do you neglect it? "Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord." Will you say that the system of the gospel is dark, and hard to be understood ? Have you faithfully endeav- oured to understand it ? Have you bestowed on it one half, or one hundredth part as much attention as on other subjects com- paratively unimportant ? Comparatively, did I say ? O what other subject is not comparatively unimportant ? To the hum- ble Christian, whether his capacity be great or small, the Bible is a j)lain book. Its essential truths and duties are so plain that the "Wayfaring men, though fools ^^ need'''' not err therein." Will you say that you have carefully studied the plan of salva- THE CARELESS SINNER WARNED. 381 tion, as revealed in the scriptures, and after all, are not satisfied with it ? Then what are its faults 1 Does it place God too high, and sinners too low ? He offers to forgive you, if you con- fess and forsake your sins. Are these hard conditions ? Can you ask him to come down from his throne, and save you, on terms that would dishonor himse{f ? Can you ask him to be at peace with you, while you love and justify your sins, reject the only Saviour of men, and trample on the law, which that Saviour died to honour and fulfil ? No ; he will not, he cannot do this. " Till heaven and earth pass away, not one jot or tit- tle of his law shall fail." Not one sinner can ever he saved un- less he confesses and forsakes his sins. You cannot prosper in arms against omnipotence. The terms of the gospel are written as with a sunbeam ; they admit only of suhmission or destruction. You are shut up to this alternative : you must how or perish. You see there is one, and but one way of escape. That way is as plain and reasonable as you can desire. Indeed it is unal- terably fixed, and therefore can never be plainer or easier than it is this moment. What benefit then can result from delay 7 Is it not wise to treat things according to their importance ? Does a prudent man stand to exchange salutations with a neigh- bor, when his house is on fire ? In common concerns men act rationally. They are careful in summer to provide for winter ; in health for sickness. A wise merchant watches the state of the market. A wise husbandman observes the changes of the seasons, and the proper time to sow and reap. A wise mariner does not sink himself m a storm, to save his goods. There was a man among the tombs who mangled his own limbs ; but he was beside himself. There was a profane Esau, who sold his birthright for a morsel of meat ; and a heathen Lysimachus, who exchanged his kingdom for a draught of water ; but these you say were foolish men. What then in the light of eternity, must you think of yourself, who can lose your soul, and bury your immortal hopes, without a sigh ! Serious as this language is, you will know hereafter that it is the language of truth and friendship. You slumber on the verge 382 HOUTATOKY. of ruin ! All that the Christian minister attempts to do in this case^ all that he is required to do, all that he can do, is to pray for you, and say to you, like Paul to the distracted Jailer, " Do thyself no harm." Break from this infatuation! Rouse from this fatal slumber ! If you slight such warnings, given you in love and faithfulness, the day will soon come when you will be exempt from such disquieting importunities. If you should suc- ceed in destroying yourself, you will have as little disturbance from the Bible and the pulpit, from sabbaths, and prayers, and sermons, as you can desire. But know assuredly there will then be a reprover, in your own bosom, whose admonition will be as the sting of a scorpion ; and whose gentlest ivhisjper will be thunder in your ear. 8. Your reason and conscience probably have thus far assent- ed to the serious statements which I have made. May I now ask, what is your purpose ? Here you are, an immortal being, standing on the small point of probation, betwixt the extremes of endless pain, and endless joy, sustained only by the frail thread of life, which the sword of justice is ready to cut, while the voice of mercy cries ; " Now is the day of salvation." Will you embrace this salvation ? Two worlds wait your de- cision. Still perhaps, you hesitate ; still presume on the abused patience of God, for a future season of repentance ; and dare to suspend your immortal welfare on the issue of that presumption. You say, " I cannot think on these serious subjects now. Re- ligion would make me gloomy, and spoil all my happiness." — What happiness ? Are you indeed happy without religion? The world may promise to make you so, — but does it fuljil its promises ? Have you no disappointments from without ? No moments of anguish within ? No fearful forebodings about hereafter ? You are not happy without religion. To prove this, I need only appeal to your own bosom. Be it so that you are among the number of those who are at ease in Zion ; that though now and then startled by a call from the death-bed or the pulpit, you soon dismiss these alarming subjects, and pass along very quiet- THE CARELESS SINNER WARNED. 383 ly, for weeks and months together in sinful indifference. Is this happiness 1 If it is, will it last 1 When the rod of the Al- mighty touches your estate, your friends, or yourself, will it keep you tranquil ? Will it stand by you in death and judg- ment ? Will your heart remain cold, when the elements shall melt ? Will your heart remain firm, when the heavens and the earth are shaken ? — No ; — serious reflection may perhaps be put off to-day ; it may be put off to-morrow ; it may be put off a few more days ; but as God is true, it cannot be put off ahvays. In spite of your heart it will come, it must come finally ; — it may come speedily. Religion make you unhappy ! ! That religion which sweetens prosperity, and presents a cordial even in the bitter cup ? Go to the dungeon at Philippi, and ask what made Paul and Silas sing at midnight, while their backs were smarting under the lash of persecution, and their feet made fast in the stocks. Go and stand by the stake of the blessed martyrs, and listen to their allelulahs, while their bodies were wrapped in the consuming flame. Go to that house of mourn- ing, and ask what was it that enabled a Christian mother to dedicate her little infant to God, reposing all her hopes for that, and for herself, on the cross of Christ ; and in the immediate prospect of death to say, " this is the happiest hour of my life." Was it a gloomy religion that could thus bear up her soul, and fill it with heavenly radiance, in such a moment ? Or go to the bereaved, christian husband, and he can tell you that the best consolations of philosophy, are utterly cold and comfortless, in scenes that wring the heart with agony ; while religion can give patience, and peace, and joy ; and that all the books written by men can do nothing to soothe a wounded spirit, com- pared with one short sentence of the Bible, " Be still and know that I am God." No, my dear hearers, religion is not a gloomy thing. Angels are not gloomy ; — men would never be gloomy, if it were not for want of religion. — Every step you take towards your last hour, you are liable to be smitten through with some barbed ar- row, from which nothing but religion can shield your bosom. 384 HORTATORY. And when you come to that last hour, let me tell you now, that without relif!;ion it will be cheerless and awful. No light from heaven will irradiate its gloom. Perhaps a circle of weeping relatives may stand around your bed. Perhaps the gentle, trembling hand of a mother, or sister, may wipe away the cold sweat from your face. But what will this avail, if you have no inward peace, no interceding Saviour, no reconciled God, no hope nor home beyond the grave ! You say, these are solemn truths, I admit ; but still I cannot think of becoming truly religious to-day. I must defer this sub- ject for the present. Then, how long? Shall it be one year, or ten years ? Weigh this matter well. There are two serious considerations here : The first is, — what if you should live to the time proposed, and then find within you a heart more stubborn than ever ? What if that time, when it comes, should find you frantic or senseless with disease, or bereft of all your faculties by some special stroke of Providence ? What if, before then, God should utterly withdraw his Spirit, and leave you in judicial blindness, under the curse of a reprobate mind ? Your damnation would then be as certain as though you were this moment in hell. " So I gave them up to their own hearts' lust," is the most aw- ful language that has ever yet been spoken by Jehovah, con- cerning any of the human race. But there is a second very serious consideration to come into the account. What reason have you to presume, that your term of probation will last ten years, or one year longer ? Who has given you a guarantee, that it will last another hour ? " What is your life ? — it is even a vapour that appeareth for a little sea- son, and then vanisheth away." You see that men do actually die, in every possible variety of circumstances ; at home, in the field, on journeys, in bed, at table. From the common scenes of amusement, of business, and of idleness, how many are un- expectedly summoned into eternity. And are you proof against the shafts of death ? Be not deceived. The hour may be at HORTATORY. 385 hand when some fierce disease shall thrill through your frame, and choke the fountain of life. To-day you may be strong in the enjoyment of health, to-morrow the color of your cheek may be exchanged for a mortal paleness, and your body clothed in the attire of the grav^e. I know it is painful to think on these serious subjects, but they must be thought of. What will it avail to shut your eyes now ? — the light of eternity will force them open ; what will it avail to keep these things out of mind, for a few days? — they must come home to your bosom shortly. What if you can slum- ber now in sinful security, the day is coming when you cannot slumber. You cannot slumber amidst the confusion of dissolv- ing worlds. You cannot refuse to hear that voice which will rend the tombs, and summon the dead to stand before the Son of Man. Hearken, then, even now, to the admonition of heaven ; " If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself ; but if thou scomest, thou alone shalt bear it." 49 LETTERS. LETTER I. ON BOOKS AND READING. Brig Two Friends, at sea, Nov. 16, 1821. to the senior class in the theol. sem., andover. Gentlemen, After a week of incessant tossing, amid restless elements, I am able again to sit, and hold my pen, and address to you a few thoughts, which the providence of God allows me no other opportunity to communicate. I bless his name that the pangs of separation from the beloved scene of my labors and enjoy- ments, may be alleviated by this imperfect intercourse with friends whom I have left, and to whom my heart will often re- turn, with undiminished attachment, during the season of my allotted absence. In the directions which I sketched out for the regulation of your studies, I promised to recommend a list of books, connect- ed with the department of my labors, to be read at such seasons as are not engrossed by regular, classical exercises, and the writ- ing of sermons. This list, which I had not time to prepare, in the hurry of my departure, I will make out the first moments of leisure 1 can command. The rest of this letter I will devote to some desultory thoughts, on the general subject of books and reading. 390 BOOKS AND READING. A preliminary question in this case is, what is the proper ob- ject of reading ? The answer must be, certainly it is not to gratify a mere fondness for hooks. There is now and then a man, who seems to be in a kind of literary reverie, and who reads perpetually, but can scarcely tell why or what he reads. Nor is the spirit of literary ostentation, by which some are in- fluenced, any more becoming. To aim high, and grasp at a wide compass of intellectual research, is a laudable characteris- tic in any young man ; but it is a poor ambition that aims only at the reputation of being a great reader. With a man of sense, the principal object of reading is, the acquisition of knowledge, for his own benefit, and that of others. A subordinate object, especially with a young minister, may properly be the formation of his style. And to a man of more mature age, the chief advantage derived from books may be, that stimulus of the intellectual powers, which is indispensable to maintain their activity, but which can be attained only by constant intercourse with the world of minds, as exhibited through the press. Bacon says, " Reading makes a full man, conversation a ready man, — ^writing an exact man." No resources of genius can qualify a man for eminent usefulness, unless he has an ex- tensive acquaintance with books. The mind of Newton might grope its way through a wilderness, untrodden by any human foot ; yet a convenient road would greatly facilitate its progress. Debar such a man from access to the labors of past ages, and wisdom, at more than " one entrance," would be shut out. Let him debar himself from the use of books, by indolence or a misguided judgment, and the result is even worse. The mind, for want of food and exercise, loses its energy, and passively submits to impressions from surrounding objects ; and we cease to look for expansion, and vigor, and capacity for manly effort. To vary the illustration, — it would be no more reasonable to presume that any one, without the aid of books, may become a " full man," in the sense of Bacon, than to suppose that the Mississippi might roll on its flood of waters to the ocean, though BOOKS AND READING. 391 all its tributary streams were cut off, and it were replenished on- ly by occasional drops from the clouds. Another question is, — what is the proper extent of reading? I reply, that, in this age of book-making, no man of common sense will undertake to read every thing. Nor can he, in de- temiining what is worth being read, commit himself to the guid- ance of reviewers ; and still less can he confide in the literary notices of booksellers. The scale on which these things are conducted, in our country, is by no means so exceptionable, as in some others ; — but it is bad enough. Among our public men there are some who conscientiously decline, in every case, to recommend a book beyond their knowledge of it, and honest conviction of its merits. Still the author or publisher may find men of facile conscience, who will give a name, deemed respect- able by the public, commending in terms of unmeasured appro- bation a book, which they never read, perhaps never saw. Nor will the man of common sense be in danger of presuming that the most important books for him to read, are those most recently published. The presumption ought to be the other way, unless the peculiarity of the subject, or the distinguished reputation of the author, in any case form an exception. There may be a good reason for reading a book that is destined to be forgotten in ten years ; but such a reason cannot embrace the whole range of literary wares that crowd the booksellers' shops. But how is the inexperienced student to know the relative value of a book, before he has read it ? — -Just as he is to know the relative value of a medicine, before he has taken it. In both cases, he must to some extent, exercise confidence in others, who are competent to give him counsel. From such men he can generally get some impartial estimate of a new booTc, suffi- cient to answer his purpose, instead of relying on those who, from mercantile motives, are tempted to overrate its value. At any rate, if he is in doubt, he can let that book alone for the present, and read some of those elementary, standard works, that have stood the test of time, and concerning which he has the testimony of judges perfectly competent and disinterested, •392 BOOKS AND KEADING. One such book, distinguished for richness of thought, may con- tribute more to his useful stock of knowledge, than scores of ephemeral volumes. If I may be allowed here to speak of my own experience, as a theological student, I would say that to Ed- wards on the Will, which I read at three several times, before I entered on the ministry, besides frequent reviews of it since, I am more indebted than to all other human productions. The aid which it gave, was to me invaluable, in forming my intellect- ual habits, in fixing my doctrinal opinions, and especially in cu- ring certain tendencies of my mind to Arminian and skeptical speculations, by showing me that there is no consistent resting place between Calvinism and Atheism. The treatises of the same profound author on Original Sin, on Virtue, and on God's Last End, etc. though less decisive in their influence on my mind than the one just named, were nevertheless more impor- tant in establishing my early theological views, than hundreds of other good and valuable books, which I have read. In general, it may be said that the young preacher, in deter- mining on the proper extent of his reading, should restrict him- self to books of real merit ; that among these, he should give the preference to such as have the most direct bearing on his own sacred work ; and that in regard to miscellaneous, or what is termed light reading, such as newspapers, and periodicals of every description, he should religiously confine himself within such limits as are consistent with other paramount claims on his time. In regard to works of fiction, I have so often expressed my views,* that there can be no necessity for repeating them here. But the danger of a conscientious minister, who is fond of books, lies much more in another direction, namely, in suffer- ing himself to be overwhelmed by that flood of miscellany which issues from the modern press, till he is carried away by the current, and loses the control of his time and his mind. This introduces another topic, — the proper rate of reading, as to rapidity. The plodding reader makes no discrimination here ; — ^but, * See page 191 of this volume. BOOKS AND READING. 393 whatever book he happens to have in hand, feels that he has done nothing, if he has not patiently conned it over, page by page, to the end. Now, what is proper on this point, depends on the subject of the book, on its style, on the acquisitions of the reader, — his present object in reading, he. In the early part of my ministry, the two prominent treatises advocating in- fant baptism, maintained opposite theories on some important points. It was necessary to read both ; but one was so obscure in style, as to require pains and patience to ascertain the mean- ing. The other was so perspicuous, that the meaning could not be mistaken, and no attention was requisite, which was in- consistent with despatch in reading. There are cases in which a man may bestow one hour on an octavo volume, to which he could not properly devote three days ; — the one hour of time is fully worth all the profit to be derived from the book. The subject of it may be unimportant, — or it may be already familiar to the reader, — or he may know that the author is incompetent to discuss it skilfully, or at least in a manner that will be useful to him. To determine then, how much time I should devote to any book, I must judge not merely by its general reputation, but also by the prospect of its utility to myself. If I am confident that I already understand the subject discussed, as well as the writer, his discussion of it will be of little use to me, whatever it may be to others. But if it is an elementary work, written by a great author, on a great subject ; — if it is such a book that at any rate, other men will constantly refer to it, as of standard authority ; if especially, it is composed on a plan of consecutive argument, so that each part sustains an essential relation to the whole, it is mere trifling to turn over its haves, as a substitute for patient reading. But the superficial reader, (as you must be aware, if you have carefully observed different sorts of men,) is as far from discrimination as the plodder. He can despatch such a work as Butler's Analogy, or Edwards on the will, with very little more attention than he would give to a second-rate volume of biogra- phy or travels. He looks at a book long enough to know its .50 394 ROOKS AND READING. author, its subject, its size ; and then, hke certain fanatics, who profess to know the state of a man's heart by looking in his face, he is prepared to give the character of that book. But the in- felicity is, that, in pronouncing judgment, on a hasty glance at the work, he is liable to blunder grossly, as to its merits, and the real sentiments of its author. And if this gift of blundering hap- pens to be associated with the gift of confidence, so that what Paul said, in a certain case, " We Tinoiv that we have knowl- edge,"— he can say in all cases with reference to himself, — then his reading amounts to very little, as to its practical advan- tage. He may looTc at or look over hundreds of volumes, not one of which does he ever patiently read. Ask his opinion concerning any of these, and you have it without hesitation ; but the only conclusion you can form notwithstanding, is, it may he so, and it may not. Would you know exactly how it is, you must depend on a thorough examination by yourself, or by some one on whom you can rely. This sort of superficial reader, however, is often safe in his random statements, from the fact that they respect authors, which lie out of the range of common reading. In some alcove of a public library, he finds an ancient book perhaps, of which there are not five copies in all the libraries of the country. He looks it over, instead of reading it, and then quotes it as author- ity for important facts or opinions, — presuming that however in- correct his representations may be, they will almost certainly es- cape detection. Doctor Priestly is a notable example of the liberties taken by this heedless and inaccurate class of men, who speak confidently concerning the writings of others, to which they have given only a superficial attention. In compiling his " History of Early Opinions," — though he exhibits great os- tentation of learning, and though the object of his work required him, in good faith, to go directly and patiently up to original sources of investigation, it is apparent from his own acknowledg- ment, that he jirofessedly aimed at nothing more than to " look carefully through " the chief works of the early Christian wri- ters ; while he excused himself for so much reliance on '' mod- BOOKS AND READING. 395 era writers," — ^because his task must otherwise have cost too much time. It were well if all the dealers in ancient lore, who imitate the unscholar-like haste and carelessness of Priestly, were ingenuous enough to confess the fact.* If I were making out a full cla'^sification of bookish men, I might remind you of the saiignine reader, though he is com- monly much akin to the superficial. He is never in doubt con- cerning any writer, ancient or modern ; but can give you an opinion ofF-hand, currentc lingua. He is most conspicuous, however, for his opinions of neiv books, which he dashes away at once, as worthless, or eulogises as surpassing all others in value. It only remains to give a few suggestions respecting what I will call the judicious reader. His habit is to combine mature reflection with reading, because the end at which he aims, is growth in practical wisdom. The literary epicure may read always, and read every thing, without making solid advances in useful knowledge. Food is not nourishment, without digestion. The gormandizer may fill his stomach, from morning to night, with all the varieties of the table, and yet be but the skeleton of a man. TA^n^'^n^ is essential to intellectual growth. With- out it, you may accumulate a fund of other men's knowledge, but it will never become your own ; of course, it will never be classed for use, nor incorporated into that system of practical wisdom, which gives all its value to knowledge. You may * JVbte added in 1833. — Among the men of kindred spirit, in oiir own country, (thoiii;!! not a native of it,) is one, who was a disciple of Priestly, and with much less of magnanimity than lie, has been more cordijilly devoted to the cause of infidelity. Regarded as a lite- rary paragon by some, who have given unlimited credit to his high ])r<'tensions, he has been said to feel no scruples, even in fabricating historical facts, to ansiver a purpose ; but taking care to be well cov- ered by the veil of antiquit;/, which he knows but few men have the means of tearing away ; while he knows also that these men have too much sober employment and self-respect to notice the errors of a wrong-headed old man, long since too knowing to leani. 396 BOOKS AND READING. recollect that the author of the Task draws out this distinction with his own peculiar felicity of manner. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; Wisdom, in minds attentive to their OAvn. Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, The mere materials with which wisdom builds, Till smoothed, and squared, and fitted to its place, — Does but encumber what it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud, that he has learned so much, Wisdom is humble, that he knows no more. As a farther illustration of these views, I adduce a fact, well known doubtless to some of you, that a late distinguished head of one of our first colleges,* often mentioned the defect of his eyes, as attended with this special advantage, that it compelled him to thinJi: much. And a gentleman with whom I am inti- mately acquainted, who has been considered as standing at the head of his profession as a lawyer, ascribes it to the weakness of his sight, that he acquired the habit o{ classifying his knowl- edge, so that he could command it for use, at a moment's warn- ing ; and so that, in ordinary cases, an argument in court cost him no labor oi pre'paration. On the other hand, through want of thinking, a man, though an incessant reader, may attain just about the same post of dignity, and fill as much space in the scale of being, as the worm that is encased in the cover of a fo- lio. Some age or two hence, it may, perchance be known that he did exist. Two or three brief suggestions, connected with the preceding remarks, deserve some attention. One is, that I have found the advantage to be derived from reading a book much increased, by making that book the subject of conversation with a friend or a small circle of friends. Such an intercommunication may greatly promote knowledge at a small expense of time. Thought, too, delivered, is the more posses'd, Teaching, we learn, and giving, we receive. * Dr. Dwight. BOOKS AND READING, 397 I presume that among fellow students some such review of their reading, if reduced to system, might be turned to good account. Another suggestion is, that in reading, the pen should always be at hand. I do not mean that it should be used to transcribe sentences or paragraphs, for this will rarely be done by a wise man. But a classification of c\ne{ subjects may easily be made by the pen, with an alphabetical arrangement, and reference to author and page, so that in a few years, a man shall have an in- valuable index of his reading, at least so far as respects books in his own library.* But the most important use of the pen in connexion with reading, is to record the thoughts of the reader's own mind. Every one must know from experience that there are cases, in which the perusal of an interesting book, increases, fourfold, his own inventive power. The single thought or trains of thought, that are struck out in such moments of pro- pitious excitement, ought to be permanently fastened at once by the pen, for future use, not intrusted to Sibylline leaves, " Ne turbata volent rapidis ludidibria ventis." My final suggestion is, that the profit to be derived from reading, depends much on the habit of reviewing. Thoughts must have opportunity to make a lodgement in the mind, or they will not rertiain there, and will add nothing to our stock of intellectual furniture. In a busy, active mind, one thing pushes out another, and nothing is permanently impressed, without some pains to recall and deepen a first impression. Hence, on an average, about one fourth part of the time em- ployed on books, should be devoted to reviewing. By the adoption of a proper system, with the aid of marginal marks etc. any book that is rich in matter, and written on a method, may be reviewed in a fiftieth part of the time requisite for its * This point I have touched upon, under the matter of Sermons ; — Bee Lecture 18, page 216. 398 BOOKS AND READING. original perusal ; and the tenth review Avill probably be more useful than the first. Of course, I would say, if it is not worth reviewing at all, it was not worth reading at all. I am, Gentlemen, affectionately Yours, ^c. — LETTER II. BOOKS AND READING. TO THE MEMBERS OF THE SENIOR CLASS IN THE THEOL. SEM. ANDOVER. Gentlemen, In fulfilling the promise which I made, to mention a list of books deserving of your attention, in the present stage of your preparation for the ministry, it is proper to say that the ob- ject of this letter is a much more restricted one, than that of the preceding. My remarks on reading generally, had respect to books of the useful class, on all sorts of subjects, especially on theology and religion. Even as to such books however, there is an important distinction between reading and study. In the latter exercise, strictly understood we use certain books, as mere manuals for reference which we never think of rea IIHKTOIIIOAL STUDIES. be useless to your fellow men. Very little will they know or care about the stores of intellectual furniture which you have laid up by study, except as they see you able to bring forth these treasures, in writing and speaking. On your regular studies in the Rhetorical department for the winter term, I shall make but few remarks, because respecting these, I am still sanguine in the hope that you will have daily directions from a Professor in whose ability, fidelity, and skill to guide your studies, I have entire confidence. Indeed any sug- gestions deserving of your regard, which I may give you, as to the business of the Senior year, will be only so much clear addi- tion to the very adequate instructions, which you will receive in your regular, classical exercises. That you may make the most of this precious year, I will of- fer some advice, which may assist you to employ, in the most profitable manner, the time not daily occupied in prescribed ex- ercises. In the first place, a greater portion of the time than hereto- fore, must be at your oivn disposal. An exercise of the Senior year, which requires more time, and more severe study, than any other, is writing sermons. This- combines theory with prac- tice ; and taken in connexion with criticism of sermons, and Chapel preaching, the system has been considered by good judges as better adapted to its ends, in our Seminary, than any other arrangement wliich could have been adopted. Besides, no man is ready to enter on his work as a public preacher, till he has a {{^w sermons ; nor to enter on it with advantage till those few sermons are as good as he can make. On the char- acter of these, his rank as a preacher, and his destination too, may depend, perhaps for life. But the preparation of these first sermons, is a serious labor, — demanding time and patient stuflij. Of course prescribed, classical exercises ought not to engross the attention of Senior students to the same extent as is proper in the two preceding }ears. The moment a man comes to the work of expounding the oracles of God, as a guide to souls, there is a magnitude attached to the undertaking to which RHETORICAL STUDIES. 417 nothing is analogous in the ephemeral character of College com- positions. He is entering on his great, solemn, public work, as an embassador of Christ. In the earlier efforts of sermonizing, he especially needs to have some unbroken time at his own dis- posal. It follows, in the second place, that to derive the highest ad- vantage from the Senior year, system in study is peculiarly ne- cessary. The business of the year is of course miscellaneous. The amount of what you can accomplish depends much on the power of transferring your mind from one thing to another. You must be able to drop your pen and read a lesson, or to go from the Lecture room and resume your writing, without a wasteful expenditure of time. But then remember the good old maxim, " One thing at once." A man ardent for study, and drawing near the close of his preparatory course, and find- ing his past plans of acquisition but half accomplished, may feel that a thousand things are to be done. But let him not neg- lect his present business to bring up his arrears. In the third place, great vigilance is necessary to preserve rigid habits of punctuality, if you have them, and if not, to es- tablish them now. When so many things are to be done, and often to be done in the same day, one thing will justle out an- other, without great care that every thing shall have its place and time. I have known, for example, a conscientious man persuade himself that, while writing a sermon, especially hisjirst sermon, he might very properly excuse himself, occasionally, from Chapel prayers, or from a regular Lecture. In this re- spect, " obsta principiis." It is always unsafe in principle to let one duty crowd out another. Let every man of the class proceed through the year with the fixed resolution never to be absent from any single regular exercise, unless he is sick. As to other engagements, such as " the call of a friend," &£c. a man of conscience and of business can seldom turn aside for them. It would be no reason, with you or with any one, why an offi,cer of the Seminary should forego a Lecture, that the President of a College called on him at that hour. To all the motives en- 53 418 RHETORICAL STUDIES. forcing the obligations of punctuality on other students, the im- portance of good example in a Senior Class is superadded, and ought to be regarded as of serious weight in a Theological Semi- nary. In the fourth place, I add some cautions as to the prepara- tion of your first sermons. Avoid unnecessary delay in this case. One third of every class is disposed to look at this thing with an indefinite dread, to examine the catalogue and see how soon it must be done, and then postpone even the commence- ment of the work as long as possible. This is unwise : — it is morally wrong. It subjects both the writer of a sermon, and his Instructor, by whom it is to be criticised, to great inconve- nience. I would certainly avoid hurry : but on the other hand, I would not be a month in writing a skeleton, and another month in executing it. It is desirable that each man should have four or five schemes criticised, before he executes any one. These should all be on important, evangelical subjects, and the judg- ment of the Instructor may in this way be obtained as to the choice of a subject, for your first effort. In my opinion about half of the sermons written at the Seminary should be on doc- trinal subjects ; — I mean doctrino-practical. The process in preparing to write a sermon may be such as the following: — study your text as explained by the Bible; search for its meaning, according to the best rules of interpreta- tion ; — then examine Commentaries ; — then draw out a skele- ton, with principal and subordinate points, keeping your eye on a main effect to be produced by the sermon as a ivhole, and giving each part its place, that you may avoid disproportion, coUision, and repetition. Cicero's oration for Milo, you have often heard me recommend as a fine example of this happy ar- rangement. Above all, so dispose of your materials as to make, not a tame, but a full and sixongconchision. As an intellectual exercise, adapted to sharpen the inventive powers, nothing can be better than slceleton-vfnimg. The composition of a chris- KHETORICAL STUDIES. 419 tian sermon, is the highest effort to which the intellectual and moral powers of man can be devoted. After you have thus employed your own thoughts on a text and subject, you may properly modify and enrich your plan by reading on the subject, and adopting the thoughts of others, while the course of thought will yet be your own. In the Jifth place, I will advert to some things besides the regular course of studies, so far as the Rhetorical department is concerned, to which every member of the Senior Class should devote, if possible, a portion of his time. Among these I would include some progress in the reading of ancient classic writings. How far it would be best, in the advanced stages of theological study, to turn aside, for the reading of Greek historians and ora- tors, must depend on the circumstances of individuals.* But I could wish to see in our students a maturity of scholarship ena- bling them to analyse a page of the Iliad, or to compare that poem, by the principles of Christian taste, with the Paradise Lost. Besides a good degree of familiarity with Cicero's rhetor- ical works, and with parts of Quintillian's Institutes so strongly urged heretofore ; it belongs to the proper range of reading, that each student enable himself to compare the principal Fa- thers, Greek and Latin, among themselves, and with modern preachers ; also to compare the principal lights of the pulpit, since the reformation, viz. the Scotch, English, and French preachers of different periods. — I might add, that a wide com- pass of important reading is presented in English literature, with which a man liberally educated for the ministry can hardly be excused, if he does not make himself in a good degree familiar. In this compass may be reckoned a tolerable acquaintance with English history, — with the universities of Britain, and her best writers of different ages, poets, essayists, orators, and especially preachers. There is still another class of books that are too much shut out by the pressure of various engagements in our Seminary — I * If the reader will compare the date of this letter with that of the foregoing, he will perhaps excuse an occasional repetition. 420 RHETORICAL STUDIES. mean books that derive their chief value from their piety. I do not refer chiefly to books of devotion, as such ; .for these I take it for granted no member of the Seminary neglects. I mean what may be called spiritual classics ; such as the more experimental works of Jeremy Taylor, Owen, Baxter, Howe, Flavel, John Newton ; and the religious biographies, &,c. men- tioned in the Catalogue at the close of the Young Preacher's Manual — second edition. The great purpose of reading these, is to warm the heart, and cherish habits of holy sensibility. Sooner or later you must learn, that you cannot make a sermon while your heart is asleep. Better that it should be awakened to emotion by reading Shakspeare's Othello, than to have no emotion. But infinitely better still that its emotion be spiritual and evangelical, such as you cannot fail to experience by read- ing a few pages of the Reformed Pastor, or Saints' Rest. Whenever I have maintained, for a considerable time, the habit of reading portions from some one of the above books, in con- nexion with a devotional reading of the Scriptures, I have al- ways found substantial benefit to the state of my heart. For point, pungency, and holy eloquence, Baxter has been my fa- vorite— especially his Saints' Rest. But I must close this letter, by wishing you, gentlemen, the presence of God, in the interesting pursuits of the winter, and by assuring you that I am with sincerest affection, — Yours, ^c. — Charleston, S. C. Dec. 17, 1832. LETTER IV. TO A PROFESSOR IN A THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. Theol. Sem. Andover, Oct. 1826. Rev. and dear Sir, I have not forgotten your request that I would give you a de- tailed account of the exercises in onx Rhetorical department ; and 1 shall now comply with that request, so far as I can, con- sistently with other engagements that have imperative claims on my time. You will indulge me, however, in a few prelimi- nary remarks, on those peculiar characteristics of this depart- ment, which must devolve on any one who has charge of it, a heavy amount both of labor and responsibility. All the attainments that are made in other departments, are to be exhibited in this. The public know nothing of our stu- dents as to biblical or theological learning, except what appears in their capacity to write or speak. This department is there- fore, in an important sense, made responsible for the character and influence of the Seminary. It is besides attended with more intrinsic difficulties than any other branch of instruction. So the Creator has been pleased to arrange his gifts, that there are five men capable of being distinguished in intellectual studies, to one that can become conspicuous in oratory. The systems of academical education in modern ages, have been 422 TO A PROFESSOR generally unfriendly to high attainments in this art, being adapt- ed to cultivate the understanding ; but to repress rather than to cherish the emotions of the youthful mind. In some of our Colleges the business of taste and of elocution stands on a very reputable footing ; in others, it is greatly neglected ; and in none of them does it receive a tenth part of that attention which made the orators of ancient days. Considering the state of our academies, and the limited resources which most of our Colleges possess, I am not disposed to find fault that no more is accomplished on this subject. I only state the fact as it is, and the consequences unavoidably resulting from it, that not a few of our students come to us with habits both as to writing and speaking, that are positively bad. There is another consideration which has an important bear- ing on this department, namely, that while it requires a system of precepts, it is still to be taught as an art rather than as a sci- ence. After all the use that can be made of text books, and rules, and authorities, the advancement of the student both in writing and delivery, depends essentially on practice. It is this that constitutes the endless labor in this branch of instruction. Classical exercises must be maintained as in the other depart- ments, but to these must be superadded a system of individual instruction, such as is not required in any other business of the Seminary. In regard to the more extended of these exercises, such as the private criticism of sermons, the attention to each pupil costs more labor than is ordinarily required of any Profes- sor in meeting a class. The amount of labor in instructing a large class, thus collectively and separately, is not easily under- stood by any one who has not made the experiment. For ex- ample ; in giving instruction to a Class, we all spend, in the act of teaching, about one hour. When I meet the Senior Class, for a Lecture on Sermonizing, I give instruction to thirty five men, (supposing that to be its number,) in the same time as I should to ten. But taking these men in detail, as I have been accustomed to give private instruction in sermonizing, in- stead of one hour's work, I have at least that of thirty Jive IN A THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 4*23 days ; because to criticise a sermon with my eyes, and to re- view the writer's corrections of it, cannot be done in less than a day. And in the best labor-saving process that could be adopt- ed, namely, hearing each man read his own sermon, it must cost about twelve days, the sitting being continued for six hours in a day. On this subject, of private criticism, I do not speak at random, having myself sustained the entire labor of it during eight years of my residence here, with only such incidental aid as could be rendered by my respected colleagues, already pre- occupied wnth a pressing amount of duties in their own appro- priate departments. This labor varies somewhat from year to year, with the size of the classes, each student being expected to present for criticism on an average from four to six sermons, during the Senior year. I will now give you as summary a view as I can, of the ex- ercises in our rhetorical department, which are divided, as you are already aware, into two principal branches. Composition and Elocution. The chief business in the first year has been the study of Sacred Literature ; in the second, of Christian Theol- ogy ; in the third, of Sacred Rhetoric. All the classes howev- er attend on exercises in Elocution, and the Middle Class have devoted one day in a week, for a part of the year, to the writ- ing of skeletons, besides dissertations and text-book exercises on subjects connected with Philology and Taste. The routine of instruction in this department has been conducted in the follow- ing manner. 1. My own written Lectures, consisting of three distinct courses, — one on Homiletics and Preaching, — another, on Style, and the principles of Taste, — and another, on Elocu- tion, especially as pertaining to the Pulpit. 2. Public Criticism of a Sermon, on Friday of each week. In this exercise, the reader mentions his pages as he proceeds. — The whole class, but especially the division who are to criti- cise, take notes, so as to remark with promptness and despatch. — During the reading or criticism of a sermon, no silent conver- sation, no attitudes or deportment inconsistent with the delicate 424 TO A PROFESSOR proprieties of the place and occasion, are to be indulged. — Criticisms are to be made with fraternal fidelity and frankness ; — but it is understood that asperity and sarcasm in manner are to be avoided. In the course of this exercise, and especially at its close, the free remarks of the Professor are superadded to those of the students ; and the sermon is afterwards presented for his inspection, having been corrected and transcribed by the writer. In preparing a sermon for this exercise the student is not expected to present the skeleton beforehand to the Profes- sor, as is common in respect to sermons designed to be criticis- ed in private. 3. The writing of skeletons. It has been customary to re- quire the skeleton of a sermon from each member of the Middle and Senior classes ; — from the former, while they are giving at- tention to this business, once in a week ; — from the latter, once in two weeks. Experience has taught me to regard this branch of instruction with Increasing interest. Whether the ex- ercise is considered as adapted to discipline and expand the in- tellect, to promote theological discrimination, or a thorough preparation for the pulpit, I cannot but think it well deserving of all the attention it has received. The revision of these skel- etons, furnishes the Professor the very best opportunity to in- struct his pupils in the principles of sermonizing. From this exercise chiefly has resulted that simplicity and perspicuity of method in sermons, for which, if I mistake not, our pupils have been distinguished. So fully convinced of this, have they gen- erally been, that some of them have been accustomed to write several skeletons each week. 4. Classical Discussions on important subjects in the depart- ment of Homiletics and Preaching. These are chiefly confin- ed to the winter term, and are conducted in the forensic form, on questions admitting of argument on both sides, such as " Wheth- er the ministers of New England, in preaching doctrines, are more liable to err on the side of caution or of indiscretion ?" "Whether the delivery of written, or unwritten sermons has a tendency to promote in the best manner the great ends of IN A THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 4^25 preaching?" Two members of the class, on each side, are ex- pected to be prepared in writing, and the discussion is closed by spontaneous remarks from other students and from the Pro- fessor. When the subject possesses practical importance, this exercise draws forth from individuals a strain of argument that is often animated and sometimes highly eloquent. 5. Review of Disiinguishcd Preachers. In preparing a class for this exercise, I have named beforehand a preacher of celebrity, as Augustine or TiUotson, requesting the whole class to read at least ten of his sermons, by a given time. Two of the class are designated to prepare a written review of this preacher, one exhibiting his excellencies and the other his de- fects. The design is to bring into view his chief characteristics in respect to doctrine, weight of matter, skill in arrangement, evangelical spirit, peculiarities of style, illustrdtion Stc* 6. A course of exercises luith CamphelVs Philosophy of Rhetoric as a Text Book. These embrace only the most in- teresting parts of the work, and occupy a class for ten or twelve Lectures. Of late this book has been introduced into two or three of our Colleges, as a classic for undergraduates. In my opinion the profitable study of it, requires a maturity in the de- partment of taste, which can be attained only by a considerable length of experience, in the actual practice of writing, and which, therefore, renders it more appropriate to students in their professional than in their academical course of education. For profound and discriminating views of the subjects which it treats, no work, ancient or modern, can bear a comparison with this work of Campbell. 7. Exercises in Elocution. On Monday and Thursday, in each week, the whole Seminary meet in the Chapel, for exercise in public speaking. At each time, six speakers, in the order of the catalogue, exhibit original compositions ; ex- , cept that for some time past, for the sake of variety, the pieces spoken on Monday, have usually been extracts ; and * One ndvaiitQgo of this exercise is, that It furnishes me a very favorable opportunity to discuss the great principles of preaching, as these have been sulijected to the test of experience in iliffuront ages. Another advantage is, that it enables the students from their own individual examination, to judge what things are to be avoided or imitated in those who have been accounted the prominent lights of the pulpit. 54— i 426 LETTER TO A PROFESSOR for a year or two, to save me from too frequent exposure in the winter, the exercise on Monday has been attended only in the Summer Term. Thursday afternoon, through the year, is occupied by the pubHc speaking, that is, it is the un- derstanding of the Faculty that no other exercise shall be as- signed to a Class on that afternoon, requiring preparation on their part. These exercises are introduced by prayer, as are all our public exercises ; and on Thursday, a Dissertation is read by a member of the Senior Class, from six to ten minutes in length, on some rhetorical subject, more or less directly re- lated to the eloquence of the pulpit; which subject has been previously assigned by the Professor.* When the students who exhibit in this exercise, come to it with spirit, and with a preparation seasonably and thoroughly made, both the dissertations and the declamations, are often marked with a maturity of thought, and a strength and vivacity in execution, which create a much deeper interest in my own mind, than I have usually felt in listening to the academical ex- ercises of our College commencements. I have been thus particular under this head, because you wish me to enter into details respecting the best methods of promoting the interests of elocution among theological students. For the same reason, I will also mention a distinct arrangement, called Rhetorical Clubs, in which students voluntarily unite for improvement in reading and declamation. In this exercise, which is attended at my own study in the winter, and in the summer at the Lecture Room, about twelve men are united in one club. For some time, at first, four of these read ; and after- guards two read and two speak ; time being always allowed after the performance of each individual, for very particular remarks on his habits of elocution in respect to every thing which is * No speaker is expected to exceed six minutes in length. Every gentleman is expected so to armnge his concerns, as never to ask leave of absence from town, when it is his turn to speak, except in some case of urgent necessity. If he fails to speak with his own division, he is called at the closeofthe next division. The speakers remain in the Chapel, (after their fellow students have retired,) for the sake of receiving the free remarks of the Professor on their manner. For a number of years after I became connected with the Seminary, the students sustained a very serious inconvenience as to compass and power of voice, from the fact that all their public exercises in elocution were unavoidably confined to a small room. Since this difficul- ty was obviated by the erection of the new Chapel, they are accustomed spontaneously to speak with a strength and distinctness of voice, that is much more favorable than their foi- mer habits, to their first elForts as preachers, in large congregations. IN A THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 427 deemed faulty, by his fellow students, or by myself. It lias been my wish so to arrange these exercises as to bring each member of the Seminary under my own private instruction, as to speaking, at least once in two or three weeks ; but the im- mense amount of labor which this would devolve upon me, has rendered it impossible to execute the plan, except to a partial extent. The success, however, which always has attended these private exercises, affords gratifying proof that they are an indispensable auxiliary in the labor of transforming indifferent speakers into such as are good, or at least respectable. On this subject, it were vain to reason, should we attempt it, against the unbroken testimony of all experience. Those defects of elocu- tion for which the youthful Demosthenes was repeatedly hissed by his auditors, never would have been overcome, by barely speaking in public for a few minutes, two or three times a year. The rhetorical discipline by which speakers were made in an- cient days, I have said was ten times, and I might have said, fifty times more thorough than any thing to be found in modern systems of education. When I look at the great men of Rome, and see Cicero, at the head of her senate, and Cesar, at the head of her armies, in the daily habit of private reading and speaking for their own improvement, I should be inclined to presume, even independently of my own observation on the subject, that skill in elocution is not likely to be attained by ac- cident. Cicero said, " No man is an orator, who has not learned to be so." Among our students, there is indeed now and then a man who knows more about these matters than Cicero ; and who confidently maintains that it is enough for any one to be so much of an orator as he luqypcns to be, and that to aim at any thing more, is the certain way to spoil himself, by artificial habits. But this sort of man, I have observed, when I come to hear him speak, commonly happens to be no very perfect orator ; yet of the many faults which he happens to have, he cannot correct any one, because he lacks both patience and skill to learn what it is, or by what process it is to be corrected. Upon the whole, I have become fully satisfied, as the result of expe- rience, that no man becomes possessed of an interesting and im- 428 LETTER TO A PKOFESSOR. pressive delivery, except as the result of pains and patience in preparatory discipline. That he should speak in public is in- dispensable, to give him the power of looking an assembly in the face, without an unmanly flutter of spirits. But such an exercise can do but little towards correcting his faults. What- ever these may be, he needs the advantage of private drilling with his teacher, which shall afford the opportunity of pointing his attention minutely, to habits that are amiss in the manage- ment of his voice. By the aid of such a drilling, he may per- haps learn in one half hour what he could never learn without it. Connected with the elocution of the Seminary, there is one thing more to which I will advert for a moment. Between two and three years ago, a Rhetorical Society, was formed by the stu- dents, on a broader plan than any thing that had existed here be- fore, under that name. The constitution was framed with much reflection, and has been carried into operation with a zeal and promptitude, which thus far promises important collateral aid in this department. The deficiency of books in the public li- brary adapted to the studies of Sacred Rhetoric, seems likely to be remedied, in some good measure, by the library of this Society, which is already respectable ; and which I hope will be increased till it shall obviate a serious inconvenience with which the Rhetorical department has been struggling from the commencement of the Seminary. Thus far, the influence of this Society, by means of its libra- ry and its exercises, promises very considerably to enhance the value of a professional education here. Already it is said to have increased, to a degree that is quite apparent, the power of extempore speaking among the students. With much affection and respect, I am, Rev. and dear Sir, Yours, ^c. LECTURES. LECTURES ELOaUENCE AND STYLE. EBENEZER PORTER, D. D. Late President of the Thool. Seminary, Andover. REVISED FOR PDBLICATION REV. LYMAN MATTHEWS, Pastor of the South Church, Braintree, Ms. ANDOVER: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY GOULD AND NEWMAN. NEW YORK: GRIFFIN, WILCOX AND CO. 183G. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by GOULD AND NEWMAN, in the Clerk's OflSce of the District Court of Massachusetts. PREFACE. The following Lectures were designed by Dr. Porter for publication. The first course he had written with much care, and if his life l)ad been spared, he would soon have committed them to the press. The MS. of the other course was left in an imperfect state. It exhibits in the numerous emendations of the author, clear evidence of his desire to render his instruc- tions in the highest degree acceptable and useful. Several mo- difications in the plan of the course are noted, in conformity with which it was his intention to have remodeled the Lectures. These modifications had respect chiefly to arrangement. In revising the Lectures, it has been the aim of the editor to give them the general form they would have received from the author's hand. It should be said however, that in no case has the meaning of the original been designedly varied. The punctuation has also been carefully retained. The Lectures on Eloquence do not comprise an entire course. With reference to them, Dr. Porter remarks in his " Directions respecting his MSS." — " These Lectures were in- tended as a sequel to those which have been incorporated into my Analysis of Rhetorical Delivery. I was induced to enlarge on the vocal organs, by urgent request of those whose judgment I regarded, and because no instruction on the abuses of those organs, has been accessible in any regular form to young min- isters." The Lectures on Style are also designedly limited in extent, VI PREFACE. embracing only a few topics, the discussion of which was deem- ed by the author, most important in its bearing on the reputation and usefulness of the American pulpit. With a primary refer- ence to these objects the Lectures were prepared. It is on this account, the more to be regretted, that they must be presented to the public, without the perfection both in sentiment and lan- guage, which the superior taste, and the extensive professional knowledge of the author would have imparted to them. '^iliBi Several explanatory notes it has been found necessary to in- sert. Their form and object render their origin sufficiently ob- vious. In accordance with the advice of several judicious friends of the author, the syllabus of the Lectures is omitted. Should a future edition be demanded, a place may be assigned to it, if desirable. It has been thought best that these Lectures should be print- ed to correspond with those on Homiletics Sic, and should be bound with the copies of that work yet in the publishers' hands, so as to constitute but one volume. In this way opportunity will be offered those desirous of possessing the Lectures of Dr. Porter, to obtain them in a more convenient, and at the same time, less expensive form, than if they were published in sep- arate volumes. It is proposed, however, to bind a part of this edition separately for the accommodation of those who have purchased the volume on Homiletics, and who may desire to procure the remaining Lectures of the author. L. MATTHEWS. Braintree, April, 1836. LECTURES ON ELOQUENCE. LECTURE I. INTRODUCTORY. UTILITY OF PRECEPTS. ON WHAT THEIR UTILITY DEPENDS. The Statutes of this Seminary require that in the department of Sacred Rhetoric, a competent number of Lectures shall be delivered. "On the importance of oratory; on the invention and disposition of topics ; on the several parts of a regular dis- course ; on elegance, composition and dignity of style ; on pro- nunciation, on the proper management of the voice and correct gesture ; on the immense importance of a natural manner ; on the rules to be observed in composing a sermon, and on the adaptation of the principles and precepts of ancient Rhetoric, to this modern species of oration ; on the qualities in the speaker, in his style, and in his delivery, necessary to a finished pulpit orator ; on the methods of strengthening the memory, and of improving in sacred eloquence ; on the character and style of the most ancient Divines, and the best models of imitation, their respective beauties and excellencies in thought and expression ; and above all, on the transcendent simplicity, beauty, and sub- limity of the sacred tvritings." Tlie topics which according to this general plan it falls to me to discuss, may be divided into five classes. 55 < 430 INTRODUCTORY. In ihejirst class, I shall call your attention to the nature and ends of eloquence, and to some sketches of its history. In the second class, I shall consider the importance to a preacher of a thorough acquaintance with his own language ; — what things are implied \n purity of style ; — the authority of Ety- mology, and of good use in language ; — principles that should govern the adoption of new words ; — the rights and the faults of Americans on this subject; — general characteristics of style ; — perspicuity, strength, beauty and sublimity ; — directions in forming a style ; faults and excellencies in the style of the pulpit ; use and abuse of critical exercises, among theological students. In the third class, I shall consider the work of public preach- ing. After some preparatory sketches of the pulpit in differ- ent periods ; I shall consider the structure of a regular sermon ; choice of text and subject ; exordium, explication and proposi- tion, division, discussion, conclusion. General characteristics of good preaching ; as being instructive, evangelical, explicit and direct, affectionate, impressive. — In this class will also be included my remarks on written and unwritten sermons ; on occasional sermons, expository lectures, and public prayer. The fourth class will embrace the general subject of delivery ; including the importance of the subject, earnestness in a speak- er, preparatory discipline, strength and improvement of the vo- cal organs ; articulatiouj tones and inflections, emphasis, modu- lation, action. Thejifth class will include the chief qualities requisite in the preacher ; such as personal piety, soundness of faith, strength of intellect, biblical and theological learning, knowledge of men, taste, sensibility.* * Of the Lectures of Dr. Porter on these several classes of topics, those of the third together with the last three of the second class, are comprised in the vokiine pnhiislied just before his decease, on Hotni- letlcs, Preaching, and Pn'nlic Prayer. Those of the fourtli class, on artindation and the topics wiiich follow, were incor|)orated into his Rhetorical Analysis. The lectures on the preceding topics of this class, and on those of the first two classes, are contained in this vol- ume. Upon the topics of the fifth class no lectures are found among h'lH maniiscri|)ts. Prohahly iIk' substance of all he ever wrote on UTILITY OF PRECEPTS. 431 Before I enter upon the regular discussion of these topics, I shall suggest some preliminary considerations, on the utility of precepts to the Christian student of Rhetoric and Oratory, par- ticularly, as they respect the work of the preacher. On this subject ray first remark is, that mere technical rules cannot make any man eloquent. They cannot furnish him with the matter and style of an eloquent discourse. The obvious reason is, that genius is the gift of God ; and where it is want- ing, its production is as much beyond the power of human art, as any other act of creation. This remark however, is not re- stricted to the work of the preacher, the secular orator, (pr the crictic : its application may be extended to all the employments of life, in which the exercise of intellect is required. No re- spectable attainments are ever made in literature or science, by the force of mere precepts, because a man is not the passive subject of a physical operation, while he is becoming acquainted with languages, with mathematics, or theology. In this process, he must have something more than books and teachers ; he must possess faculties o[ thinking, and must use them. The same thing is true with reference to the polite and even the mechanic arts ; and in some sort it is true, with reference to every department of human action. The skilful legislator, or judge, or general, or painter, or poet ; nay, the skilful hus- bandman or mechanic, is never made such by mere rules. In application to the province of oratory and criticism, I ad- mit that this principle has some peculiar claims to considera- tion. The properties and the importance of a correct and cul- tivated taste, I shall not now discuss. But it comes within my present purpose to say that a genuine perception of the beauties of style, depends on the structure of the mind ; and however it may be regulated, cannot be produced by art. That mechani- cal correctness which often assumes the name of taste, may in- deed, be chiefly artificial. This may enable a man to detect a these topics, is embraced in iiis Lecture on the Cultivation of Spiritu- al Habits, and Progress in Study, and in his Sermon on the Hindrances to Ministerial Usefulness. 432 UTILITY OF PRECEPTS. violation of syntax, or to apply the canons of verbal criticism with great precision. For certain purposes, and to a certain extent, this technical accuracy is useful, and even Indispensable. But while it qualifies one to discern blemishes with a microscopic eye, it often renders him (like the fly described by Addison, on a pillar of St. Paul's church), unable to perceive the design, the proportions, the beauty of a whole. Habits of minute ac- curacy ought to be formed ; but not at the expense of our sen- sibility, and our regard to objects of the highest magnitude. Longinus says, " That composition which is sublime with some faults, is better than that which is merely correct though fault- less. Homer has faults. Apollonius and Theocritus are with- out a blemish : but who would choose to be Apollonius or The- ocritus, rather than Homer ?" The same opinion was expressed by Pope in his own manner : " Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend, And rise to faults, true critics dare not mend." If technical rules cannot furnish the matter and style of a discourse, it is equally true that they cannnot produce a good delivery. They cannot produce that expression of voice and countenance, that flow of soul, in which the vital principles of true eloquence consist. These attributes of delivery must re- sult in common cases, at least, from the enthusiasm of genius ; and in the pulpit, from the superadded influence of a solemn persuasion of the truth, and a deep sense of eternal things. Any man, therefore, certainly, any preacher who shall hope to succeed in public speaking, by an artificial manner, will fail of producing a good impression on respectable hearers, if he does not even make himself ridiculous. My SECOND general remark is, that though mere precepts cannot supply the place of native endowments, they may afford great assistance in the cultivation of those cjidowments where they exist. Even this, I know, has been denied ; but the de- nial is consistent neither with facts, nor with common sense. Some pieces of ground are incurably barren. Dogs it thence h UTILITY OF PRECEPTS. 433 follow that every fertile spot of ground is a garden ? A sculp- tor cannot create marble. Do we say therefore that the use of the chisel is absurd ? or that a rude block from the quarry, is the same thing as a finished statue ? No technical rules could have produced Demosthenes, Apelles, Virgil or Handel. Yet no one can suppose that these masters in their respective arts of eloquence, painting, poetry, and music, attained their high perfection without study and labor. Every art has its el- ementary principles, which must be theoretically known before they can be applied to practical purposes. A man may as well hope to become a physician or philosopher, by chance, as an orator. Quinctilian illustrates this thought by an example. *' A gladiator though never taught to fence, is reckoned brave for rushing on his adversary ; and a wrestler, potent, who by main strength, holds fast what he has seized with his grasp. But the former is often ruined by the fierceness of his onset, and the latter surprised to see all his impetuosity frustrated by a dexterous motion of his antagonist." So, he says, " a man may speak without learning ; but no man is truly an orator, un- less he has learned to be so." If other arts have, in every na- tion, been deemed proper subjects of study and instruction, and schools for these purposes have been thought necessary in every period ; he must indeed be a prodigy of genius, who can learn nothing in the art of writing and speaking from the pre- cepts of Tully and Quinctilian, the example of eloquent men, and the diligent cultivation of his own powers. A THIRD general remark is, that the utility of precepts de- l^ends on two things : — 1. On their being applied with judgment. Quinctilian says "We must keep to a certain way, and a cer- tain order for speaking well. It is a thing to be done accord- ing to rule, and not at random : a thing in which an ignorant person will be surpassed by one that is learned." Yet he says, 434 UTILITY OF PRECEPTS. " The rules of rhetoric must admit of variation, according to time, circumstances and necessity," " For a general, whenever he puts his army in order of bat- tle, first to range properly his van, next to display his wings on each side, and then to place his cavalry on the right and on the left, is the best position when it is practicable. But if a preci- pice, a river, a forest, a defile, obstruct this order, there is a necessity for altering it. At one time the line of battle must present a full front ; at another, the form of a wedge : here, the corps of reserve must be drawn up ; there, the legion. In like manner, to know whether the exordium be necessary or super- fluous, whether it ought to be long or short, whether the nar- ration ought to be concise or diffuse, divided or continued, di- rect or transposed, all these particulars depend on the nature of the case, and by it they must be decided." " The art of speaking," continues this great master, " requires labor, study, long experience and practice, consummate prudence, a signal presence of mind, and an acute judgment. We shall there- fore proceed, as we see necessary, by different routes ; some- times quitting the public road for a shorter one ; sometimes making a circuit, if torrents have swept away the bridges ; and escaping through a window if a fire has reached the door." According to these obvious principles, it is certain that the utility of precepts to the orator, depends very much upon a sound judgment, by which he may determine what is proper in any given case. Next to this, it depends, 2. On the familiarity of habit. My meaning is that the elementary principles of good writ- ing and speaking, should be so well known to us, that we may apply them, of course, without effort, and without reflection, at the time. Does any one think this impossible ? Perhaps a lit- tle attention to the subject may serve to correct such an opin- ion. The maxim, that " custom is a second nature," is ground- UTILITY OF PRECEPTS. 435 ed on philosophy, and especially on experience. The facility with which we combine and use the elements of knowledge, in all common cases, pi'oves that the mind may perform the most complex operations, not only without difficulty, but without be- ing conscious of its own acts. Dugald Stewart in his treatise on " Intellectual habits," cites the following passage from Po- lybius. " Many things which appear in the beginning to be absolutely impracticable, are in the course of time, and by con- tinual use, accomplished with the greatest ease. Among num- berless instances, the art of reading may be mentioned, as one of the clearest and most convincing proofs of this remark. Take a man who has nev^er learned to read, but is otherwise a man of sense ; set a child before him who has learned, and or- der him to read a passage in a book. It is certain that this man will scarcely be able to persuade himself, that the child, as he reads, must consider distinctly, first the form of all the letters; in the next place their power', and thirdly, their con- nexion, one with another : for each of these things requires a certain portion of time. But if to the reading some gesture should be added ; if the child should observe all the stops, and all the breathings rough and smooth, it will be impossible to convince the man that this is true. Hence we may learn, nev- er to be deterred from any useful pursuit, by the seeming diffi- culties that attend it ; but to endeavour rather to surmount those difficulties by practice and habit."* This illustration is perfecdy simple, and corresponds with our experience in many other cases. You sit down and write a letter to your friend. In doing this you apply all the principles of language which you have been learning from infancy. You combine letters into syllables and words ; you make ivords the vehicle of thought ; you apply the rules of orthography, of syntax, of punctuation, and of rhetoric ; and at the same in- stant, the rules of that wonderful art,, by which the pen records the acts of the mind. In thirty minutes, you have applied as * Stewart's Phil. Essays, p. 412. 436 UTILITY OV PRECEPTS. many rules as you could think over methodically, in a week : and yet, in this surprising process, probably you have not been conscious, at the time, of applying a single rule. Perhaps the same power of habit in forming rapid associa- tions of thought, would be still better illustrated, by examining the progress of a person from the first rudiments of music, through the intermediate stages of improvement to the skill of a master on some complicated instrument. The perfection of this skill in the performer, depends on his exact conformity to the settled principles of his art. But his application of rules^ must be so familiar by custom, as not to require the labor of recollection, or his performance is spoiled. Just so in the province of style and elocution. If we would derive benefit from precepts, they must he familiar ; — must be inwrought into our habits of thinking and speaking ; and must be applied in practice, spontaneously. We must carry into our public performances, those habits which are already formed. If these habits are correctly and thoroughly formed, the opera- tions of the mind will no more be interrupted by their applica- tion, than by the motion of the heart and lungs. But what- ever our habits may be, the attempt to mend them would be absurd, at a moment when every thought should be devoted to objects of higher importance. Finally ; though the principles of eloquence, being founded in the nature of man, are essentially the same in all ages and countries, yet the Christian preacher eminently needs a sound judgment, in applying scholastic precepts to his peculiar work. The interests committed to him, as much transcend those which have employed the splendid eloquence of secular orators, as the concerns of eternity surpass in importance, the momentary con- cerns of time. The spirit of the pulpit is to be learned, not in the school of Aristotle, but in the school of that great Teacher who came from God. Never then, let us build our hopes of usefulness to the church, on mere human attainments ; nor sub- mit our understandings to the guidance of human precepts, so far as to forget that one is our Master, even Christ. LECTURE II. DEFINITION OF ELOQ,UENCE ; ITS ENDS; AND HISTORY. In entering upon the execution of the plan proposed in my introductory lecture, it is proper to apprize you that I shall pass very briefly over some of the first heads of the course, as being but subordinately connected with its main design. It may be proper also to remark, that no peculiar elevation or ornament of language, will be employed in these Lectures, from respect to what their subjects might be thought to demand. Unquestionably, a didactic treatise on Eloquence and Style, re- quires the same simplicity of manner as is adapted to the ele- mentary discussion of any other subject. We proceed now to inquire, I. What is Eloquence? The most celebrated writers on Rhetoric and Oratory, have given different answers to this question. Isocrates called elo- quence, " the power of persuading ;" — and in other words ex- pressive of the same thought, — " the skill of persuas on." Gor- gias defined it, — " the power of persuading, by speaking :" and Aristotle, — "the power o( inventing whatever is persuasive in discourse." Quinctilian says this last definition is defective, because it leaves out of sight the end of rhetoric ; and because it includes only invention, which without elocution, cannot con- stitute a discourse. Nor is he satisfied with the description of eloquence, given by Thcodectes, that it is " the leading of men 56 438 DEFINITION OF ELOQ,UENCE. wherever one pleases, by the faculty of speaking ;" — nor with that of Cicero, that " it is speaking in a manner proper to per- suade." " Does not money, he asks, likewise persuade ? Does not personal influence, the authority of the speaker, the dignity of a respectable man, persuade ? Others, besides the orator, persuade by their loords, and even without speaking a word, induce men to do what they please. On the contrary, an ora- tor does not always persuade ; sometimes it is not properly his end." This acute writer having condemned the definitions of his pre- decessors, gives as his own, that " Eloquence is the science of speaking well." Without supposing Quinctilian tinctured with that pride of originality, which he ascribes to others, as a motive for seeming to difl!er from all who wrote before them ; it is diffi- cult to perceive that his own definition is essentially more per- fect than those which he rejects. Probably all these rhetoricians meant much the same thing, though they adopted different phraseology to express their meaning. Modern critics following Quinctilian, have objected to the definitions of Aristotle and Ci- cero on two accounts. First, " to say that ' Rhetoric is the art of persuasion,' is to make success the only criterion of elo- quence ;" whereas " all the arts of rhetoric have often been em- ployed without producing persuasionj' Secondly, " Persuasion is efiected by money, by personal influence, and even by si- lence, as well as by eloquence." Why, on the same principles, shall not the common defi- nition of logic, be rejected ? Why shall we not say in the same style of critical discrimination ; — First, all the powers of logic have often been employed without producing conviction of the understanding : or Secondly, earthquakes, fires, and dis- eases, are often instruments of conviction ; therefore Logic is not the art of reasoning. In justice to Quinctilian, it is to be observed, that his defini- tion of eloquence has respect to the moral qualities of an orator ; and supposes that none but a man of pure intentions, can prop- erly be denominated eloquent. Yet in other places he admits, END OF ELOQ,UF,NCE. 439 as of course he must admit, that eloquence may he perverted : that is, it may be employed by bad men, for bad purposes. After all his labor to set up a perfect distinction, at the expense of his predecessors, to what does it amount ? " Rhetoric is the science of speaking well — consequently, to speak well is its prop- er end." In other words, the end of eloquence, is to be elo- quent. Now it is certain that every human effort is made, for the accomplishment of some purpose beyond itself. When a man speaks to his fellow men, he has some design, some object, which he wishes to promote by speaking. If he is a bud man, his object will be perhaps, fame, or money, or power. If he is a. good man, he will aim to accomplish some useful and be- nevolent end : — to enforce some duty, to avert calamity, to ren- der his fellow men better and happier. For the attainment of his ultimate object, whatever it may be, the orator proposes other objects, which are intermediate and subordinate. These are usually classed under the heads of instruction, pleasure, and persuasion : thus Cicero says, " He is the perfect orator who in speaking, instructs, delights, and moves his hearers." In this view of the subject, among all the definitions of elo- quence which I have seen, I am best satisfied with that of Dr. Campbell, viz. that '-'in its largest acceptation, it is that art or talent by which the discourse is adapted to its end." II. What is the end of Eloq,uence .'' The general answer is, — to move men to action as rational beings. This answer has of necessity, been partly anticipated, in the remarks just made. For whatever purpose we address our fellow men, the attain- ment of that purpose commonly requires that they should be excited to do something. Action presupposes /eeZin^, and feel- ing, conviction. Hence writers on Rhetoric have generally agreed in saying, that its principal end \s persuasion. Aristotle and Plato laid it down as a maxim, that " the best precepts are unavailing, if the minds of men are not moved :" and the Ro- 440 HISTORY OF ELOQ,UENCE. man masters taught, that " to move the heart, is the life and soul of eloquence."* On this principle, the theory of the pas- sions, and the various avenues to the human heart, were sub- jects of much study in the rhetorical schools of Greece. The affections were classed into two general denominations ; one comprehending the milder, such as favor, benevolence, mercy, called TJO^og — the other, comprehending the more vehement, as anger, hatred, grief, joy, called na&og. But as men are never in- duced to act without motive, and without more or less excitement of feeling : so it should be remembered that the heart is accessi- ble chiefly through the intellect. No one is delighted or mov- ed with that which he does not understand, or does not believe. The affections therefore cannot be moved, unless the under- standing is previously enlightened ; at least, they cannot be moved in any manner which is worthy of the dignity of true eloquence. From this established connexion betwixt reasoning and persuasion, probably the Latin vi^ord oratio, (the reasoning of speech, oris ratio,) was derived. The end of true eloquence, then, is to move men to action, — proper and useful action, as rational beings ; by exhibiting light to convince the understand- ing, and motives to influence the heart. The end oi sacred el- oquence, is to bring men to believe, and feel, and act, as the gospel requires ; in other words, to make them good and happy. III. The History of Eloquence. A very brief sketch is all that will be attempted under this head. The capacity of expressing thoughts by articulate language has, with a few exceptions, been common to men, from the beginning of the world. By this medium of intercourse, chiefly, individuals have communicated to others, their opinions and feelings, on all subjects. But the use which has been made of the faculty of speech, constitutes almost as great a difference betwixt one man * Arist. L. 1. c. 2. Qiiin. L. H. c. 2. Tie. De Or. HISTORY OF ELO(iUENCE. 441 and another, as the possession of it does betwixt men and brutes. If we compare the prattle of a child, with the eloquence of De- mosthenes, or the profane vulgarity of a clown, with the ele- vated strains of Christian piety, which flowed from the lips of Bates or Baxter, we see that the purposes, for which the tongue is employed, are as various as the intellectual and moral char- acters of men. In the early periods of the world, oral language was the prin- cipal medium of communication. Of course, the personal in- fluence of any one, over his fellow men, must have been very much in proportion to his skill in speaking. Accordingly we find from the first traces of history, that this art was deemed indispensable to heroes and statesmen, and was in fact contem- porary, in its origin, with the social relations of men. The book of Job, which has been so justly admired for its beauty and sublimity, is a book of speeches. Aaron was eloquent. The speeches of Moses and Samuel, exhibit specimens of tender and powerful oratory. But not to dwell upon the eloquence of the Hebrews here, it is evident that the art of speaking among other nations, espe- cially the Greeks, had been considerably cultivated in the time of Homer. No man can avoid this conclusion, if he reads the Iliad, remembering that it was a copy of real hfe and manners, when it was written. If eloquence was unknown at that peri- od, why should this " poet of nature," or how could he draw its characteristics so perfectly ; and give the world such striking examples of the concise and sententious, in Menelaus ; — the grave and persuasive, in Nestor ; the bold and vehement, in Ulysses ? Pausanias affirms that before the Trojan war, and during the reign of Theseus, a school of Rhetoric was opened in Greece. The common opinion however is, that the Jirst regular instruc- tion in this art, was given by Empedocles, in the Island of Sici- ly, about four centuries and a half before the Christian era. Cicero says that Corax and Tisias, also of Sicily, were the first, who taught it in the form of written institutes. These were 442 HISTORY OF ELOQUENCE. succeeded by their countryman Gorgias Leontinus, so often mentioned, with respect, by Cicero in his De Oratore. He was contemporary with Socrates, and other distinguished Rhe- toricians. 1 shall not repeat the names of those sophists, who about this time, arose in Greece, and whom Plato, the disciple of Socrates, sarcastically called loyoduidulovg — word-makers. The next distinguished teacher of Rhetoric, was Isocrates, a pupil of Gorgias. His school at Athens was for some time resorted to by a vast number of students. Though he lived at that period when the liberties of Greece were threatened by Philip, and when the highest powers of genius and eloquence were called into action ; the feebleness of his voice, and his ex- cessive diffidence, prevented his speaking in the popular assem- blies. His writings were much admired in his own time ; though the best critics have censured his style, as abounding with arti- ficial ornaments, with affectation of point and antithesis, and with plagiarism. This charge is especially made against iiis principal work, entitled the panegyric, which is said to have cost him the labor of ten years. He was the first who studied that nice collocation of words which constitutes musical cadence. As it often happens in similar cases, what his style gained in point of grace, by this process of refinement, was gained at the expense of spirit and strength. But that he was no contempti- ble writer, might be inferred, if there were no other evidence, from the approbation which Cicero bestowed upon him. Aristotle succeeded Isocrates, Possessing a genius profound and acute, cultivated by the instructions of Plato, and by hab- its of indefatigable study, he acquired the title of " the philos- opher of truth." He was one of those master spirits, which extort a kind of involuntary homage from mankind. As a man of universal learning, and especially as a teacher of criticisim and oratory, he sustained the highest reputation. For ten years, it is said he was preceptor to Alexander, afterwards the Great, concerning whom, Philip wrote as follows to Aristotle. " I in- form you that I have a son ; I thank the gods, not so much for making me a father, as for giving me a son, in an age, when he HISTORY OF ELOCiUENCE. 443 can have Aristotle for his instructor. I hope you will make him a successor, worthy of me, and a king, worthy of Mace- don." Aristotle's rhetoric is the first regular treatise on that subject, now extant. It consists of three books : the first, on the rela- tion between Rhetoric and Logic; the second, on the philoso- phy of the passions ; and the third, on the properties and parts of elocution. It is evidently the work of a vigorous mind, though written in a manner very abstract and aphoristical. Next after Aristotle, Demetrius Phalcrius was most conspicu- ous, as a writer on oratory and criticism. The work on Rhet- oric, commonly supposed to be his, has, indeed, been ascribed by some learned men to another Demetrius ; and by some to Dionysiusof Halicarnassus. Without entering into this question, I remark that the power of his eloquence was certainly great, as it raised him to supreme authority in Athens, for ten years ; during which time, three hundred and sixty brazen statues are said to have been erected to his honour. But it is probable, that he contributed more than any other man, to corrupt that masculine energy, which had so long distinguished the elo- quence of Greece ; and to introduce that gaudy and effemi- nate style, which followed the days of Demosthenes. This sketch of Greek Rhetoricians closes with the name of Longinus. Before his time, the fire of genius, by which his country had astonished the world, was almost extinct. The lightning and thunder of Demosthenes, was succeeded by af- fected glitter of ornament, by feeble, puerile, cold declama- tion. About two hundred and fifty years after Christ, Longi- nus appeared, like an evening star, to illumine for a moment, the commencement of that night, in which the glory of Greece was sinking forever. His treatise on the Sublime, though mutilated in its present form, being rather a collection of fragments than a complete treatise, is a work of such standard excellence, that the world may well lament the loss of his other compositions. In this summary, I have designedly omitted any mention of the dramatic poets, iEschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Mc- 444 HISTORY OF ELOQUENCE. nander ; the study of whose writings was deemed essential to the formation of an orator. And my limits scarcely allow me to notice Herodotus and Thucydides, in whose hands history assumed all the charms of eloquence : flowing and fascinating in the former ; acute, concise and sublime in the latter. The origin of Eloquence in Rome is covered with obscurity. The military form of the government, and the barbarous habits of the people, were fatal obstacles, for ages, to the cultivation of genius and the arts. When their conquests began to extend in Greece, about one hundred and fifty years before the Christian era, the period of their refinement probably commenced. The rhetoricians and philosophers of Greece, who had before been banished, were invited to settle in Rome, and become the teach- ers of her sons. Cato the Censor, was the first Roman who wrote on eloquence. One hundred and fifty of his orations were extant in the Augustan age. The next treatise on this subject, was written by Marcus Jlntonius, who was a professed teacher of Rhetoric. These were succeeded by Cicero, in the blaze of whose talents, every Roman name that preced- ed him, is lost. Hortensius was the rival of this illustrious or- ator ; and though celebrated by Cicero himself, his powers were eclipsed by the superior genius of his mighty competitor. Julius C(Bsar, Quinctilian says, had he been devoted to elo- quence, was the only Roman, whose strength and eloquence of diction, would have made him the compeer of Cicero. Among those who held an important, though less conspicuous rank, may be mentioned the two brothers, Caius and Tiberius Gracchus, who rose to the first honours of the state by their eloquence. And that Mark Antony the younger, was a powerful orator, might be inferred from the prodigious effects of a single speech, made to the people of Rome, after the assassination of Caesar. Seneca was a great man. His writings, while they exhibit great compass of thought, and sublimity of sentiment, are charge- able with artificial display of point and smartness. Quinctilian says that " he was distinguished in every province of eloquence : that his genius fitted him for great things ; but that his style, ic*^ HISTORY OF ELOQUENCE. 445 though possessing many quahties to command admiration, is full of enchanting blemishes ; and proper for the perusal only of those whose taste is formed." Finally, the constellation of Roman orators and critics, ter- minated with Quinctilian himself. He was born in Spain, but spent his life in Rome, where he died Anno Domini 95. Having risen to the first eminence at the bar, he was employed by the emperor, with an ample salary from the public treasury, as a teacher of Rhetoric. After he retired from this office, which he had sustained for twenty years, with unexampled reputation, he wrote his great work, dc Institutione Orotoria. Calling to the aid of his own transcendent talents the best labors of all who had gone before him, it is but justice to say, that he pro- duced the most complete system of oratory, that has been written in any language. To confirm this remark, it is sufficient to mention the fact, that every respectable treatise on this subject, since the time of Quinctilian, has been confessedly indebted to him, for its elementary principles. Happily this work, so cele- brated since the revival of letters, escaped, though it did but just escape, the wrecks of the dark ages. After being buried for centuries, it was discovered by a Florentine, among the rub- bish of a decayed monastery, and thus providentially rescued from oblivion. 57 LECTURE III. TOPICS TO BE CONSIDERED. A CONVICTION OF ITS IMPORTANCE REQUISITE TO THE ATTAINMENT OF A GOOD ELOCUTION. Though Eloquence is much more extensive in meaning than Elocution or Delivery, the purpose of the following Lectures does not require me to preserve with much exactness, the dis- tinction of these terms, I design, in these Lectures, to exhib- it some principles appertaining to the art of public speaking, — which principles are preparatory to practical exercises in this art. In executing this design, I shall have occasion to take notice with more or less particularity, of the following points ; — The importance of a good Elocution ; Necesity of earnest- ness ; Causes which influence the intellectual and moral habits ; — Influence of personal piety on the eloquence of the preach- er ; — Obstacles to the cultivation of eloquence ; — Characteristics of our age and country favorable to it; and the utility o( pre- paratory practice in elocution. I shall also offer some remarks on voice, and on the perfection and preservation of the vocal or- gans. A primary requisite to the attainment of a good elocution, is A DEEP CONVICTION OF ITS IMPORTANCE. Euripides styled eloquence tt]v -ivgavvov av&Qwnoig (.tovt^v, the only queen among men. First, by a cursory glance at the effects of secular eloquence, in different periods, we may be satisfied how far this position is justifiable. Of Pericles, it is said, that " the goddess of persuasion dwelt on his lips." Such was the force of his eloquence, that he IMPORTANCE OF ELOQUENCE. 447 "moulded the Athenians into what shape he pleased, and presi- ded with unlimited authority in all their assemblies." This he did, not through a momentary effervescence of popular favor ; but for Jorty years, during which time, the most powerful men in Athens were unable to shake the influence, which resulted from his individual weight of character. Even Cicero, with his profusion of words, seems at a loss how to describe the effects produced by the ancient orators. He says " they were vehement as the tempest, irresistible as the torrent, awful as thunder. The rapid flood of their elo- quence rolled on, overwhelming, and bearing away every thing in its course." Facts justify this representation. Look at the influenceof Demosthenes when Philip invaded Greece. A con- summate general comes, with a powerful army, trained to high achievements, and accustomed to victory ; — comes to attack a people once mighty, indeed, but now sunken in effeminacy ; de- voted to trivial amusements ; enfeebled and dispirited by internal factions. Surely all is lost. No — the voice of one man calls on Greece to awake ; calls in loud tones of remonstrance and indignation ; summons from the grave, the ancient defenders of her liberty, to witness the shame of their degenerate sons. Greece awakes, listens, rushes to arms ; her effeminate citizens become men and veterans ; her intrepid legions pour on the hosts of Macedon,and rescue their country from impending ruin. Caesar arraigns Ligarius for trial. The most inveterate of all passions, revenge, demands the sacrifice of the illustrious victim ; and the hope of his escape is diminished by tl)e fact, that the acknowledgment of his innocence, must imply the guilt of his judge. How can Ligarius be acquitted, when his life de- pends on the clemency of one who has waded to empire through the blood of his countrymen ; and the permanence of whose power, requires the extermination of those who have dared to oppose it ? Caesar ascends the tribunal, not to be guided by the dictates of equity, but to cover his purpose with the forms of law : for the decree of death is already made out. The trial proceeds. The prince of Roman orators stands up the advo- 448 IMPORTANCE OF ELOQUENCE. cate of the accused. The judge Hstens to the fervid appeals of argument and eloquence ; he is convinced, warmed, melted, turns pale, trembles, drops from his hand the fatal decree, — ■ forgives. Is it in the power of eloquence when employed in the com- mon affairs of this world, thus to break through the barriers of prejudice, of passion, of interest ; thus to seize and subdue the heart ; to confound the purposes, and control the actions of men ,•* and can it then in the second place, be deemed a useless attainment to the Christian preacher ? " If profane men in pro- fane causes, require skill in an orator, how much more is it to be required in sacred affairs." If our estate or life were suspend- ed on a judicial trial, who of us would not wish for an eloquent man as our advocate? Why then, if the soul of our brother, sis- ter, or child, is to be rescued from eternal death, should we not wish the motives of the Gospel to be addressed to them by a powerful and persuasive eloquence ? The debate which involves the interests of a country, or which, in any considerable degree, involves the property or reputation of an individual, we expect will awaken all the energy of the senator or pleader. Is he then, who is to treat the most elevated and awful subjects, which the universe can furnish, the only man in whom indifference can be tolerated ? Is he, by whom (in the proper discharge of his office,) " the violated law speaks out " Jts thunders ; and by whom, in strains as sweet " As angels use, the gospel whispers peace ; — is he the only man, who can be excused in slumbering, and compelling others to slumber, over his subject ? The ambition of Philip, the treason of Cataline, the usurpation of Caesar, called forth strains of eloquence which have been the admira- tion of succeeding ages. Yet these subjects were trifles, fit on- ly for the prattle of children, compared with the joyful and dreadful themes that employ the preacher's tongue. IMPORTANCE OF ELOQUENCE. 449 If any one doubts that religion affords scope for the highest efforts of eloquence, let him look at the preaching of Paul ; let him look at the effects produced by the elegant and animated discourses of Chrysostom. At a later period, let him see Pe- ter the Hermit return from the holy land, and raise the voice of expostulation and entreaty, that the Savior's tomb might be rescued from the profanation of infidels. He called, and Eu- rope was roused ; he sighed, and the flame of zeal kindled from heart to heart, through Christendom. At the pointing of his finger, eight hundred thousand warriors enlisted in the enterprise, and marched under the banner of the cross. This fact dem- onstrates that religion, even when obscured by superstition, and perverted by false zeal, furnishes materials for the most ener- getic and efficacious appeals to the human heart. When Massillon entered the pulpit, not the pious and the sober merely, but the votaries of pleasure and business throng- ed the church. " The theatre was forsaken, the court forgot their amusements, and the monarch descended from his throne," to hear the illustrious preacher. " While he spoke, the king trembled ; while he denounced the indignation of God against a corrupted court, nobility shrunk into nothing ; while he de- scribed the terrors of a judgment to come, infidelity turned pale ; and the congregation, unable to resist the power of his language, rose from their seats in agony." Look at Whitefield, surrounded by an assembly which no church in Christendom could contain. Twenty thousand au- ditors hang on his lips, while every ear is open, every eye is fixed, every bosom swells with tender emotion, or throbs with anguish. What is this irresistible power, which holds these hearers, now in breathless awe; then hurries tiiem away witli the strong impulse of pity, remorse, or terror ; which aUer- nately dazzles, strikes, soothes, alarms, agitates the soul ? You say the force of truth produced these effects. But whence the utter insensibility, with which the same men could often hear the same truths, from tiie lips of preachers, equal perhaps in piety, and superior certainly in learning, to Whitefield ? Alas! 450 IMPORTANCE OP ELOQ,UENCE. learning and even piety may occupy the pulpit, and yet the hearers be cold, because the preacher is so. But the glowing sensibility of Whitefield's heart, gave a vi'armth and weight to his words, which opened an instant passage to the hearts of others. Whoever saw him in the pulpit, saw an eloquent man. His tones, his eye, his action, spoke the fervid emotion of his soul ; spoke with an energy which compelled insensibility to listen, and obduracy to feel. Surely the preacher who ex- hibits the truths of the Gospel, so as to inspire a crowd of im- mortal beings with awful and universal interest, puts to rest forever the question, whether eloquence is important or not, in the pulpit. Jf such were all preachers, the form of our sacred eloquence would no more be subject to the reproach, that " the pulse at her heart, beats languidly ; and her pale lip attests that no seraph has touched it with a live coal from off the altar." To the Christian minister, the motives to cultivate the pow- er of speaking, are all substantially combined in one, viz. it is directly subservient to his main purpose as a religious teacher. It must, therefore, be to him preeminently important. That he is most likely to attain a good elocution, other things being equal, who is most convinced of its importance, is confirm- ed by all experience. The first among ancient orators to whom I recently alluded, became such, not by birth, nor by accident. At the age of sixteen, having felt the power and witnessed the effects of a splendid effort at the bar, he resolved with the ar- dor of enthusiasm to devote himself wholly to the study of elo- quence. He saw that this was the high road to influence among his countrymen. Though the defects of his organs and utter- ance were such, that the fire of his genius was repeatedly stifled by the hisses of his auditors, the flame was rekindled to burn with a growing intensity. With a steadfastness that nothing could shake, he advanced towards his object. Greece collected in crowds, \when he was to speak; and the proud invader of his country paid him the high tribute of saying, " I dread the eloquence of that man, more than all the fleets and armies of IMPORTANCE OF ELOQUENCE. 451 the Athenians ; — he is their soul ; he puts arms and oars into their hands ; he transforms them into new men." Such was the process by which the son of a blacksmith, a sickly, stam- mering youth became, at the age of twenty eight, the first man in his country. By a similar purpose and perseverance, as you know, was his great successor and rival in fame, the Roman orator formed. "Tanta oblectalio est," said he, " in ipsa facultate dicendi, ut nihil horainum, aut auribus, aut mentibus, jucundius percipi possit." Knowledge without the power of speaking, he was well aware could not give him unlimited ascendency over the minds of his fellow-men. Do you say that these men were actuated by a love of world- ly fame, and therefore are not fit examples for the Christian preacher ? Admit that his motives should be infinitely superior to theirs ; that they are the most cogent which the universe can furnish ; and that his objects have an elevation and gran- deur, which cast theirs into the shade, and fix on them the stamp of littleness ; shall he, on this account, be excused for comparative supineness ? Truly it is the reproach of the church, that with all our literary institutions, our facilities for high at- tainments, and with a religion adapted to expand to the utmost the powers of human intellect, her sons, called to minister at her altars, should look back with awful reverence, after twenty centuries, on paganism Sor examples of eloquence, while at the same time they unite to extol and despair to imitate. Among worldly great men of modern times, we have similar examples to show that the power of one mind over others, depends not on the possession of knowledge without the skill of using it. William Pitt, with advantages of education, not superior on the whole, to those which some men in this Seminary have enjoyed, became prime minister of England at the age of twenty-four, and undertook duties which called for more mental resource, and more talent in debate than were demanded in any other statesman on the globe. How could he have filled that station, had he consumed his early years in mere attention to books, 452 IMPORTANCE OF ELOQUENCE. and neglected to cultivate the use of his pen and his tongue 1 Why then should we look for eminent usefulness in the Chris- tian minister, who attaches no importance to that one qualifica- tion, without which, ail others must be unavailing ? Certainly I am not to be understood as encouraging ignorance in a preach- er. Learning he must have. The taste and the exigencies of the age demand this. Christian learning is the heavy artillery of the church, against the armies of the aliens. But no captain of our host will inspire dread in those armies, by all his array of guns and deadly missiles, if at the same time, he is known to be totally unskilled in the art of loading and firing. We sometimes hear it said that, in forming an eminent preacher, " the great thing is not to cultivate delivery, but to make him a sound thinker, and to store his mind with knowl- edge." Now if this remark means that, so far as intellect is concerned, thought is the basis of good preaching, we can neither deny it, nor give it the credit of oracular wisdom. Cer- tainly no man can be eloquent who does not utter important thoughts ; and no man can utter these who does not possess them. To suppose then, that any extent of knowledge or of logical powers, can supersede the utility of skill in speaking, is absurd. The value of knowledge consists in the ends to which it is to be applied. To a man alone on a desert island, gold is worthless, because he cannot use it. In the chest of a miser, gold is worthless, because he will not use it. The act of hoard- ing may give that miser pleasure, but his pleasure is not worthy of a man. The mere student, whose time and efforts are em- ployed in hoarding knowledge, is a literary miser. To what end is his knowledge laid up ; — of what value is it to the world, while he cannot speak it, nor write it ? But when his stock shall have become large enough, he resolves then to study the art of communication. So resolves the miser : — but resolves only, — and resolves, till he dies ; and then the common suffrage of survivors adopts as the motto for his memory, " He was a useless man." Life is not so long that its vigor may all be spent in getting ready to live. IMPORTANCE OF ELOq,UENCE. 453 All my remarks on this subject are to be understood, not as appealing to a vain desire of distinction.in the Christian preach- er, but to that desire o^ usefulness which Christian benevolence implies. In this view, I add a simple fact which requires no comment. The world to whom you are to preach, consists chiefly of plain men. Each of these thinks for himself as to what preaching should be. And what does he demand ? That you speak well. You may say he is no judge. Yet he does judge for himself, and will ; and, what is more to the purpose, he commonly judges right. He may perhaps be deceived with the ostentation of eloquence ; — but give him that which is real, and he infallibly /ee/5 its power. And as to its importance, it may I presume be affirmed that on no point whatever is public taste, including all classes, more united. It would amuse you to see in the many applications for preachers, addressed to your instructors, from Missionary Societies, and cities, and villages of our country, how common is this emphatic request, " Send us a man that can spealc well." You see then, gentlemen, that the question whether you shall aim to attain an interesting delivery ? comes to you with an individual application, and assumes no other shape than this ; whether you shall aim at the highest sphere of usefulness in the church of God ? 58 LECTURE IV. NECESSITY OF EARNESTNESS. CAUSES WHICH INFLUENCE THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL HABITS. Another requisite to the attainment of a good delivery is EARNESTNESS Or WARMTH. So indispensable is fhis, that without it, no other qualities can make an interesting public speaker. You may suppose a man to possess piety, genius, learning, imagination, fire ; but he cannot preach. Why ? There is a capital defect ; — he has no voice, or has an insurmountable stammering in his speech. You may suppose another man, a preacher too, of whom it will commonly be said, — he is a deep thinker, or a great reader, but he is dull in the pulpit, or in simple phrase, " he cannot preach." Now if this man had been born dumb, or with some incurable defect of vocal organs, he would never have thought of the ministry for his profession. But he has no defect of voice, and yet he fails utterly of producing interest in the pul- pit. Why ? with all his erudition, his discourse is dry and Hfeless, because he himself has no vital warmth. Then let him be a merchant, a physician, or if he will a closet student, — " Plunged to the hilt in learned tomes, and rusted in." But let him not mar the sacred work of preaching the gospel, by bring- ing to it a heart that never felt one throb of emotion worthy of the pulpit, and lips that never were touched with a coal from the altar of God. Truly that preacher who cannot preach must have rare endowments for his work. Who would think of liirnishing other professions with men distinguished in the same NECESSITY OF EARNESTNESS. 455 manner? — excellent mariners, except on board a ship ! excel- lent warriors, except in the field of battle ! excellent physi- cians, except in the chamber of sickness ! In some departments of literary labor, I allow that a man of mere intellect, without sensibility, may be very useful. If he is a lexicographer, or otherwise a writer of elementary works, it is perhaps necessary that he should be so void of emotion, or so able to suppress it, that his ardor may not impugn his credit for impartiality or accuracy. Only a few such men how- ever, are needed. In the estimation of the great world, what rank is given to the closet statesman, compared with Chatham or Burke ? What rank is given to the closet lawyer, whose name is preserved by the title page of his digests and reports, compared with Cicero, the corruscations of whose genius will not expire till the day that shall quench the constellations ? But what is the warmth that is so indispensable to eloquence ? Not vociferation. Not violence of any sort. To avoid the re- proach of coldness, we may assume an artificial animation, that is even more frigid than the frigidity we seek to avoid. The raving of the declaimer is not that ethereal flame that kindles from soul to soul. Insanity is not eloquence. The man of mature mind smiles at the admiration, with which a child gazes upon the rocket that explodes in its flight to the clouds ; and with the same indifference he views the glare of factitious ear- nestness, sometimes called oratory ; while he is disgusted equally with fervid ignorance, and scholastic apathy. The remedy for both is a mind at once enriched with knowledge, and warmed with genuine emotion. What then is true earnestness ? It is in general, that excited temperament or state of the soul, which enters loith deep inter- est into a given subject that is to be impressed on others. Without stating particular reasons here, the fact is unquestion- able, that the speaker who lacks this temperament, will be inanimate and powerless. But he who possesses this, combined with other requisites, is listened to with interest, the moment he begins to speak, because he shows that no deadly chill is oti 456 NECESSITY OF EARNESTNESS. his vitals. He can summon his powers and direct them to a point at pleasure ; because he can endure strong excitement, without the distraction of his faculties. When he rises, and stretches himself, some proof is forth-coming that he is a living man and is awake. His heart beats with a vigorous pulsation, that braces his muscles, gives glow to his conceptions, and meaning to his look. His soul kindles with the impulse of his subject, as he goes on ; and his strength is felt and acknowl- edged,— acknowledged with a sort of enthusiastic homage, by his fellow-men. Wright, in his Philosophy of Elocution, in urging upon the Christian student of eloquence, " earnestness of manner, and energy of expression," relates the following: — " A citizen of Athens came to Demosthenes, and besought him to plead his cause, against one by whom he had been treat- ed with great cruelty. Now the person having made his com- plaint with an air and style of perfect coldness and indifference, the orator vi^as not inclined to believe him. " This affair cannot be as you represent it ! You have not suffered hard usage !" Here merely from the want of earnest- ness and expression, the veracity of the person was disputed ; and that too by Demosthenes. A pathetic address, with finely interwoven phrases, was not essential to convince the orator of the fact. He only required, perhaps, a probable picture of the mind of the sufferer, or an earnest recital of the transaction. — — When the orator intimated his disbelief of the fact, Plutarch informs us that the citizen immediately expressed himself with the utmost emotion — " 1 not harshly used ! I not ill-treated !" Nay, now, says Demosthenes " I begin to believe you — that is the form, — that is the language of an injured man. I ac- knowledge the justice of your cause, and will be your advocate." " We shall find the object of this illustration," continues the author, " shown more at length by the Roman orator." "I perfectly remember," said Cicero, " that, when Calidius prosecu- ted Q. Gallius for an attempt to poison him, and pretended that he had the plainest proofs of it, and could produce many letters, NECESSITY OF EARNESTNESS. 457 witnesses, informations, and other evidences to put the truth of his charge beyond a doubt, interspersing many sensible and in- genious remarks on the nature of the crime, I remember, that when it came to my turn to reply to him, after urging every argument which the case itself suggested, I insisted upon it as a material circumstance in favor of my client, that the prosecutor while he charged him with a design against his life, and assured us that he had the most indubitable proofs of it then in his hands, related his story with as much ease, and as much calm- ness and indifference as if nothing had happened." — " Would it have been possible," exclaimed Cicero, (addressing himself toCalidius,) " that you should speak with this air of unconcern, unless the charge was purely an invention of your own ? — and, above all, that you whose eloquence has often vindicated the wrongs of other people with so much spirit, should speak so cooly of a crime which threatened your life ?"* In the consideration of this subject, the causes ivhich injlu- ence our intellectual and moral habits, also demand attention. These include the objects that awaken excitement, and the kind of excitement which they produce. Eloquence then, does not depend on mechanical or ejjhemeral excitements, but on great, and permanent, and powerful causes, affecting the intellectual habits of a country or an age, perhaps a series of ages. Look at the facts to which I have before al- luded. What produced the mighty effort of eloquence in Ath- ens ? A train of ca,uses that made mighty men ; that produced a collision of mighty minds ; that set in motion the intellectual machinery of Greece, and carried the excitement to the highest pitch, when Philip threatened the extinction of her liberties. The convulsions of Rome, as connected with the history of Brutus, and Caesar, and Anthony, brought Cicero up to that energy and majesty which held in awe the minds of other men. To the events of the American Revolution, our country owes the fame of her Hamilton and Patrick Henry. We do not * Phil, of Elocution, pp. 198—202. 458 CAUSES WHICH INFLUENCE search for secular orators, amid the darkness and despotism of modern Turkey. We do not search for Christian orators, amid the ecclesiastical darkness and despotism of the eleventh cen- tury. At that period, the moral world was like a vast, dead sea, without a breath of wind to move its surface. In the fif- teenth century, a hurricane broke up the repose of these stagnant waters, and from the conflict of elements arose the powerful minds that led on the Reformation. But in estimating the efficacy of those general causes which give character to an age, or nation, or community of nations, we may be assisted by looking at their influence on single men. Would you learn by what process any individual, who is dis- tinguished by the power of his eloquence, gained that power ? You must look back on a train of causes, that have combined to shape all the habits of his mind. And you will see that the energies of his mind are not awakened at random, but are brought to bear on a single subject according to laws which are applicable to other minds. Take the case of the British Statesman whom I recently mentioned. The love of his coun- try was not in him an occasional emotion, but a steady, deep seated principle. The interests of that country were committed to his special management in a period, when the nations were dashing one against another, in distress and perplexity ; and " men's hearts were failing them for fear." The welfare of a great nation at stake calls for expanded views, and great efforts in her prime Minister. This is the subject of his unremitted care ; the subject that goes with him to his pillow, that occupies his first waking thoughts, that engrosses his mind in the social circle, and hastens him back to his retirement. Call him now to engage in public debate, on some measure involving this chief subject of his thoughts, and you see the ac- tual result of those intellectual laws, which I wish to illustrate. You see all the man's native and acquired powers thrown into an effort ; — all his genius, his knowledge, his patriotism, unite to form one current of argument and emotion, which a host of puny opponents cannot withstand. A mere stranger, in wit- THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL HABITS. 459 nessing that effort, would know that powerful causes must have been at work, Xo form the man who made it. We may take another example from among ourselves. Could an illiterate man have been introduced on the floor of the American Congress, to take part in its debates on the British treaty, he might as well have attempted to form a new planetary system as to make a speech like that of Fisher Ames. In Ames himself that speech would have been a miracle^ had not a set of causes of long continued and steady operation, uni- ted to create the man, and confer on him the powers which such an effort demanded. Besides those general principles, under the influence of which a new era was then opening on the world ; — within himself were united a vigorous and cultiva- ted mind ; an easy native elocution ; rapid conception ; vivid imagination ; practice in speaking ; a soul glowing with patriot- ism, and inspired to high emotion by the subject and the occa- sion. Here again I say, a mere stranger must have perceived that such an effort was not produced by the transient excite- ment of a common mind. Just as a stranger in Africa, falling on the banks of the Nile, would know that this river comes from distant mountains, and is fed by many streams ; and would not suspect that it was produced to day by a shower on some adjacent region, or that it will cease to flow to-morrow. Ames was thirty eight when he made that speech. Sup- pose that some great emergency in the church should require any of you, at the same age, to make a similar effort in your own sacred calling ; — what preparatives are necessary that you may do it with similar success ? Though scarcely one man in a million, has all the native gifts of Ames for high effect in oratory ; yet the question how far you would succeed or fail, in the case supposed, with the talents which you do possess, depends chiefly on the intellectual and moral habits which you are now forming. No momentary incitement would answer on such an occasion. You must act under a strong, steady im- pulse, resulting from principles that have established their permanent influence over your powers. LECTURE V. PERSONAL PIETY IN THE PREACHER, ESSENTIAL TO GENUINE ELOQUENCE IN THE PULPIT. With the foregoing principles in view, I am prepared now to lay down the broad position, that genuine eloquence in the pul- pit, cannot exist without personal piety in the preacher. Strong as this statement may seem, its truth I presume is un- questionable. To a certain extent, the fundamental principles of oratory are the same in all professions, and at all times ; and thus far the examples T have adduced from secular orators are pertinent to my main purpose ; — but beyond this they fail. Will these examples be said to show that eloquence of the first order has existed without piety ? Certainly it has, — but not in the pulpit. Great emotion I have said is necessary to produce eloquence, and great objects to produce such emotion. But these objects must correspond with the governing temper and business of the speaker. A motive which would kindle the soul of one man, to another may be no motive. Demosthenes and Paul were in some respects kindred spirits. Strong sensi- bility, fervid imagination, vigorous conception, and bold ex- pression, were characteristic of both. But suppose, that De- mosthenes, with an unsanctified heart, could have stood up at Athens or Corinth, to preach the cross of Christ ; would he have been eloquent 1 To him, as to later Greeks, that same subject, which swelled the Apostle's bosom with unutterable emotion, would have been foolishness. The secular orator may find objects in mere worldly concerns to awaken his utmost PIETY IN THE PREACHER. 461 powers, the interests of his client ; in the senate, the interests of his country may be sufficient for this. But where shall the preacher find objects to stir his soul ? God be thanked that the affiiirs of courts and cabinets, or even of Popes and hierarchs, no longer furnish topics for the pulpit, since the days are gone by in which the sacred office was made subservient to secular ambition. ' According to the condition and the taste of modern Christendom, the chief objects that can rouse the preacher to earnestness must be found in his re- ligion. But ivliat religion ? Not that which radically mistakes the character and obligations of man, and leaves him a stranger to God, and to himself. Not that which covers the pollutions of his heart under plausible names, and promises him heaven without holiness. To such a religion for substance, I grant paganism of old was indebted for the machinery of its epic poetry, but not for one splendid effort of its eloquence. To a religion more or less nearly approaching this low standard, we must as- cribe the lamentable want of fervour, which in different degrees we witness in the pulpit, from the tame, hortatory address, to the frigid, moral essay. With such a religion, the preacher may exhibit genius, erudition, elegance, fluency. But that eloquence which arrests attention, which seizes the heart, which thrills an assembly with awful interest, must have a deeper origin. Its principles are the elements of moral truth, as they are exhibited in the unperverted Gospel of Christ; such as the character of God, the ruin of man, his dignity and des- tination as immortal, the scheme of redemption, the office of the Holy Spirit as a sanctifier, and the retributions of the judg- ment. In what way now, is the preacher without piety to enter into these subjects, with that warmth of interest which their importance demands ? Suppose his faith to be essentially de- fective on these points ; or suppose him to be destitute of that spiritual sensibility which belongs only to a sanctified heart ; can any artificial process give him animation ? Nothing short of genuine feeling will do ut. But he who feels these subjects truly, is a pious man. He has been born and taught from above,. 59 462 PIETY IN THE PREACHER. His heart, his studies, his labors are consecrated to God. Fix this man in a city or village pulpit, — he is a fervent preacher. Send him to the heathen, — the same holy zeal that glowed in the bosom of Brainard and Martyn, with an inextinguishable flame, gives energy to his ministrations. The amount then is this ; he that would speak with effect in whatever department of elocution, must be earnest ; but in the pulpit, and on appro- priately Christian subjects, nothing short of Christian piety in the preacher will make him earnest. As a result of the foregoing principles, I remark that there is an important sense in ivhich the preacher is under moral obli- gation to he eloquent. Genius of high order, being an original gift of the Creator, we cannot strictly speaking, say it is his duty to possess ; though that degree of intellectual strength, which is indispensable to an impressive delivery, ought for other reasons, to be deemed essential in a public teacher, as much certainly, as the gift of speech. The want of either, whileit would not imply blame, would exclude from the ministry. But qualities of heart, which the Bible demands in every moral agent, qualities in which the essence of Christian character consists, ought certainly to exist in full strength in the preacher. And the high tone of religious feeling, which he is bound to maintain and to carry into his public ministrations, though it may not render him elegant or sublime, will give him an earnestness and pungency of address, that will infallibly reach the hearts of his hearers. Not to insist then on other qualities which depend on cultivation, and of course on the preacher's will; just so far as he fails to be eloquent through want of EARNESTNESS, there must be some inexcusable fault in the state of his heart. A still more important result of the preceding principles is, that tvhatever tends to depress the Christian sensibilities of the heart, or in other words to check the spirit of piety, is un- friendly to the cultivation of Christian eloquence. I can only glance at the cautions, which this remark suggests to the young preacher. All those habits of study which are aolipted to the PIETY IN THE PREACHER. 463 mere acquisition ofknoivJedge, icithout n proper culture of the heart, must operate to restrain and to diminish the warmth of religious feeling. In this way probably the study of the Bible, only as an intellectual exercise, giving scope to philological in- quiry, may divest this sacred book of all its sanctifying influence on the student. In the same way, the habit of examining the doctrines of Christianity, as subjects of speculative curiosity, with the eye of a critic and a disputant, not regarding their connexion with the interests of practical godliness, tends to sup- plant those affections of the heart, which are indispensable to the successful exhibition of these doctrines in the pulpit. For more obvious reasons still, the practice of reading works of popular literature for mere amusement, or even for the purpose of improving the taste or imagination, except to a very limited extent, and under the sanctifying influence of fervent piety, must be prejudicial.* Perhaps too there is one other point of caution more important than any of these, in its practical bear- ings on ourselves, I mean a habit of levity in social intercourse. To some extent this seems to rise spontaneously out of circum- stances, among those whose chief business is severe mental application. But while the fatal effects of intense study should certainly be avoided, by a thorough unbending of the mind, at least once a day, this relaxation should be so managed by the Christian student, as not to impair his pious sensibilities. The practice of indulging in jesting and witticism is always attended with danger. There is no rock, if we except heresy and in- temperance, on which ministers have oftener made shipwreck. As a warning to such mirth-loving men in the sacred office, the common sense of the world applies to them with unsparing strictness, its own maxim ; " He that makes others laugh will seldom make himself respected." If these remarks have any weight in respect to social intercourse, they are much more im- portant in reference to public exercises, such as ivriting and speaking for rhetorical purposes, among Christian students. * For the Author's views of reading works of fiction, see Lectures on Homiletics, etc. p. 191. 464 PIETY IN THE PREACHER, To a sportive sally of wit, or to cutting irony on some subjects, there can be no objection ; but the habit of associating the inter- est ofsuch exercises, with their tendency to produce levity, must be attended with deleterious influence. It is not our chief object to promote jluency in speaking, much less is it so to promote flippanci/ and pertness. Eloquence, such as comports with the purposes of this Seminary, demands dignity of subject, manli- ness of thought, and more than all, warmth of Christian emotion. No flashes of transient excitement will produce it. There must be a current to the soul ; and this in Christian oratory, I say again, can result from nothing but a deep, steady, habitual tone of pious feeling. To this one principle, so far as eloquence is concerned, are we to ascribe the power of preaching in a re- vival of religion. The state of the preacher's heart, sometimes gives to his unstudied address in the conference room, an ener- gy which he could not reach in an age of artificial effort. Though my remarks on this topic have been so far extended, yet as I know its importance to have been deeply felt by the Founders of this Seminary, it must not be dismissed without a more special application to yourselves, with reference to the study of eloquence. In all the sacrifices incident to frail health and residence among strangers, my heart has been exhilarated in reviewing my relations to this Seminary, not so much from those marks of prosperity which attract public notice, — not so much from the elegance of its buildings, the amount of its funds, or the growing number of its students, as from the decided character of pt'e^?/, which I trust has prevailed within its walls. It is when I think that many young ministers, who are burning and shining lights in our own country ; it is when I look to our Missionary stations abroad, and think that most of those whom the American church has sent to assault the strong holds of paganism, were sons of Andover ;* it is when I recollect that these men, and others of like spirit, once occupied those rooms and kneeled in those closets, which are consecrated to the same sacred purposes through succeeding generations, that my heart * This was true, when these Lectures were written. PIETY IN THE PREACHER. 465 cleaves with inviolable attachment to this hill of Zion. Just so far as each successive class shall continue to furnish men of this character ; and shall give new proof, from year to year, that substantial learning, embellishment of taste, and fervor of holy zeal, may be combined in the ministers of Christ; we have a guarantee that the Simeons and Annas of our churches will con- tinue to pray for us. In different parts of this country, there are many ministers, of solid sense and information, who have risen by the strength of their own character to distinguished usefulness and influence, and that with inferior, early advanta- ges. These ministers, and the body of intelligent Christians with 'whom they are connected, will give us the aid of their confidence and their prayers, no farther than they see evidence, that literary acquisitions are sanctified by a predominant charac- ter of piety in our students. God forbid that these churches reared by the Hookers and Mathers of former days, should ever be compelled to choose between fervid ignorance and scholastic apathy in the pulpit. But rely on it, gentlemen, if they are not forsaken by the Holy Spirit, much as they are disposed to cherish Theological Seminaries, these churches, should we drive them to that alternative, will pass by cold scholars, and prefer men of moderate learning, with ardent piety, to be their ministers. So it ivill be ; and so it ought to be. And could the fathers of New England, and the departed founders of this Seminary, speak from amid the full light which heaven reflects on the interests of the church below, they would doubtless say with one voice, so let it be. On this subject I feel myself to be speaking as one that must give account; speaking to a family of young ministers, in whom a higher stamp of personal religion Q|(Jght to be expected, than in any other associated circle, of equal numbers, on the globe. To your instructors it has been given in special charge, as their first duty, to make the cultivation q( your piety an object of un- remitted care. Important stations in the church, perhaps my own office, or that of my respected colleagues, may hereafter devolve on some of you ; and it should be our most earnest en- 466 PIETY IN THE PREACHER. deavor to cherish in you those principles, without which, even in the humblest sphere, we cannot hope to see you useful or hap- py. You see then, on what my best anticipations as to the spir- it of sacred eloquence here are suspended. Could I determine how far the spirit of genuine devotion prevails in your hearts ; could I see how far personal ambition is supplanted by the love of Christ and of one another ; could 1 inspect each closet, and take the temperature of each man's piety from day to day ; — then I should be satisfied what progress to look for in that elo- quence, which God will approve, and employ for the advance- ment of his own cause. O could our fathers, Norris, Abbot, and Spring attend your rhetorical exercises, and among the cat- alogue of your names, could they fix on one who aims to be- come an eloquent preacher, while he neglects to commune with his own heart, and with his God, in secret, with what eyes think you, would they look on such a son of their Seminary ! How especially could his motives bear the inspection of ^Arti eye, which as a flame of fire searches every heart ! LECTURE VI. OBSTACLES TO THE CULTIVATION OF ELOQUENCE. CHARAC- TERISTICS OF OUR AGE AND COUNTRY FAVORABLE TO IT. Among the general principles which I propose to discuss, it is proper to consider some things which have been supposed to be, and others which really are, unfavorable to the cultivation of eloquence. Thefrst of these is climate. There is a very common opinion that the atmosphere of northern latitudes, must be unfavorable to that earnestness which is the soul of oratory. The correctness of this opinion, as it has an important bearing on this subject, in respect to a large part of our own country, ought not to be admitted without examination. It were idle to deny that there is any connexion, between climate and intellectual temperament. We do not look for great mental efforts of any sort, amid the intense frosts of a polar sky, or the suffocating blaze of a vertical sun. But that climate which is favorable to vigor of body and mind ; which is adapted to promote long life ; and to produce a high tone of intellectual and moral excitement, cannot be unfavorable to eloquence. The same causes that produce great poets, and admirals, and generals ; the same causes in short, that produce great men, by expanding and elevating the mind to high effort, must be adapted to produce great orators. If we reckon cli- mate among these causes, as certainly we must, then the above opinion, so far at least, as our own climate is concerned, is cer- tainly groundless. It would be injustice to our country, to say 468 OBSTACLES TO THE CULTIVATION OF ELOQ,UENCE. that her sons are wanting in energy. Look at the daring enterprise on the ocean and the land, which quahfies them to attempt the most difScult achievements. In an age presenting all the objects to which the action of mind can be applied, and demanding all the vigor and versatility of which it is suscepti- ble, see them become distinguished artisans, merchants, states- men ; — and then ask if such men are not capable of all the spirit, all the enthusiasm which eloquence demands. Whatev- er deficiency exists then on this subject, it must be ascribed not to our climate, but to other causes. What, moreover, is the testimony of facts ? That city which guided the destinies of the ancient world, and, with her four millions of inhabitants, was herself guided by the eloquence of one man, has had no such man among all her generations of modern ages. The glory of eternal Rome, amid the moulder- ing monuments of her magnificence is her name, and the mem- ory of what she was. Yet she stands in the same latitude as when she was mistress of the world ; and this latitude is the same with a trifling difference, with that of the present capital of New England. The eloquence of Pericles and Phocion seems still to echo in our ears, like the sound of thunder dying away in the distant horizon. Yet the descendants of these men occupying the same ground, and breathing the same air, are literally servants of barbarians.* Such facts are not to be ex- plained by any unfavorable change in the climate of these coun- tries ; on the contrary the climate is unquestionably warmer now than formerly, and consequently, if the opinion we are examin- ing is correct, is more favorable to the highest efforts of elo- quence. The winter at Rome, for centuries after it was built, had often great severity. The freezing of the Tiber is men- tioned by Juvenal as a common event. He characterizes a superstitious woman, as breaking the ice of that river that she might perform her ablutions. " Many passages of Horace suppose the streets of Rome to be full of ice and snow." Written before the recent Greek revolution. OBSTACLES TO THE CULTIVATION OF ELOQUENCE. 469 Rivers which are never frozen in modern times, were crossed by the Roman armies on solid bridges of ice. At present, it would be as strange for the Tyber to be frozen as the Nile." Why does not modern Rome produce orators ? The answer is to be found, not in the influence of climate, but in a combina- tion of causes, resulting in a state of society, that has stifled the noblest powers of the mind, and made divarfs of those whose forefathers were giants. And why, I ask again, if the fire of genius is to be graduated according to parallels of latitude, why have not India and Africa produced orators of the first distinction ? Has the inspiration of eloquence in those countries, been check- ed by the influence of a frosty atmosphere ? Talent of every kind, as hitherto exiiibited in the affairs of our globe, has been chiefly confined to countries within its northern temperate zone ; because such have been the arrangements of Providence, that here have existed the most powerful causes to produce vigor of intellect, and ardor of emotion. And certainly it is reasonable to suppose that, for a century to come, these causes will not be found to operate in any other country more strongly than in our own. It seemed proper to bestow so much attention on this topic as to place it in its just light ; because if orators, like tropical fruits, can be produced only in warm climates, it is in vain to look for tliem in northern latitudes. However common this opinion may have been, it deserves to be contradicted ; because it is at vari- ance with philosophy and fact ; and because it tends to dis- courage manly effort, where such effort promises most of all to be successful. Should it be still demanded, ' are not the most vigorous powers of imagination unquestionably found in hot climates rather than cold V — I answer, they are found, not in the ex- tremes of either. Let facts decide. The 'father of poetry' flourished in about the same latitude, that divides the territory of the United States midway from north to south. The second great poet that the world has produced, lived in nearly the same latitude with ourselves ; and the third, considerably farther 60 470 OBSTACLES TO THE CULTIVATION OF ELOQUENCE. nortli. If the comparison were extended to distinguished poets of a lower rank, it would probably appear that scarcely one tenth of these, have lived in countries as far south as the native region of Homer. Without farther remark then, we may dis- miss the objection arising from our climate, as destitute of solid foundation. But a second obstacle to the cultivation of eloquence, and one to which we must attach very serious importance, arises from the character of modern literature. I have had occasion to revert often to one grand principle, namely, that eloquence will be most cultivated where it has most influence. Accordingly we find that among ancient na- tions, with whom not common business merely, but the con- cerns of states, of philosophy, of religion, all depended on oral address, the gift of speaking was studied with great assiduity. Knowledge was chiefly acquired by the ear. But for several centuries past, the eye has been the main organ of instruction, and the influence which one mind exerts over others, has been principally through the medium of the pen and the press, that is, in respect to objects of chief interest with the great public. Among the ancients, common people had no access to books. The philosopher, the statesman, the general, could not sit down coolly in the closet, and commit to the press and to the post his reasonings or his remonstrances, to be read by thousands at their leisure. A public assembly must be convened, to hear the orator's arguments from his own lips; and that with all the increase of excitement, which results from the social sympathies of such an assembly. In this way even written history, was made public; as we are assured that of Herodotus was recited at the Olympic games. These causes operated powerfully to produce orators. When it was given out that Demosthenes was to speak, a vast concourse flocked together, from the ex- tremities of Greece. Suppose now, that the art of printing had existed there ; and that every man in Greece might have had opportunity to read that oration, at home ; you see the impulse that summoned the population of a country together. OBSTACLES TO THE CULTIVATION OF ELOQUENCE. 471 suspended; you see Demosthenes lose half his hearers ; prob- ably, half the fire, and certainly half the effect and fame of his eloquence. This point is introduced here, only for the sake of suggesting its connexions with the character of modern literature. The facilities which art has devised for the multiplication of books, have given a new direction to the intellectual pursuits of men. Study, in the strictest sense of the term, occupies a much wider range than it anciently did. In acquiring a finished education, a far greater proportion of time is devoted to abstruse sciences ; and especially since so much progress has been made in apply- ing these to practical uses in the arts of life. All this has a tendency to extend and enrich the field of knowledge ; but at the same time, it gives a certain rigidity to the temperament of the mind, and makes readers and thinkers, rather than speakers. Our systems of education, (and the same is true of all modern systems,) are almost exclusively devoted to the discipline of in- tellect, while they fail to cultivate sensibility and emotion. Even the formation of a good taste has scarcely been among the objects of serious regard in our literary institutions. With so much to repress and so little to cherish, the spirit of oratory in our Colleges, it is wonderful that so many of our young men, rather than that so few, break through these obstacles and be- come good speakers. What progress should we expect in lan- guages, for example, from that youth whose lessons should recur but once in a month, or once in six months ? And why should we preposterously demand skill in elocution, from him who has been called to exercise his powers of speaking, only at similar intervals, through his whole course of education ? No man now, in the forming age, bestows one twentieth part of the pains on this subject, that made the eloquent men of antiquity. As a result of the foregoing causes, we see why the elo- quence of the ancients compared with that of the moderns, was eminently of the popular kind ; adapted to tiie common sense, and to the hearts of men. Such was the simplicity of their institutions, that Cicero said, amidst all his avocations, he could 472 OBSTACLES TO THE CULTIVATION OF ELOQUENCE. in a few days, acquire the knowledge necessary for a Roman lawyer. Of course their lives were not consumed in the study of abstract jjrinciples, nor their eloquence confined to a detail of dixy facts and statutes. The liberty, prosperity, and honour of their country, were plain subjects of common interest, suited to expand and invigorate genius, and to inspire sublimity and pa- thos. I may add, the taste and habits of the ancients produced orators ; — ours cold reasoners. Their public speakers sought to agitate and inflame ; ours seek to convince merely, by argu- ments addressed to the intellect. The bold use of apostrophe and personification, by which Demosthenes and Cicero raised the dead, made brutes speak, and rocks listen, and weep ; would be ventured upon with little prospect of success, by modern ora- tors. Indeed, such is the change of public taste, that their vehemence of action, their smiting of tlie forehead and thigh, and stamping with the foot, would hardly be endured in a modern assembly. These considerations may perhaps account for the fact, that the sublime and impassioned eloquence which prevailed in Athens and Rome, has flourished less in later ages. For the same reasons Britian and these United States, and in a less de- gree France, are the only countries in modern times, whose institutions and manners are favorable to its cultivation. The popular eloquence of France, excepting that of the pulpit, has been depressed by the absence of civil liberty. In spite of ob- stacles, the British Mansfield and Burke, the elder and younger Pitt, with several others that might be named, have carried the eloquence of the Senate to a high pitch. Perhaps a moderate share of enthusiasm, might lead a poet to say, — it is " Praise enough "To fill the ambition of a coiiimon man, " That Chathcun's language was his mother tongue." Lord Lyttleton, the younger, who was at once a distinguish- ed example of fine taste, and of depravity, said, " The two principal orators of the present age are the Earls of Mansfield CHARACTERISTICS ETC. FAVORABLE TO ELOQUENCE. 473 and Chatham. The former is a great man ; Ciceronian, but I should think inferior to Cicero. The latter is a greater man ; Demosthenian, but superior to Demosthenes. The first formed himself on the model of the great Roman orator ; he studied, translated, rehearsed, and acted his orations. The second dis- dained imitation, and was himself a model of eloquence, of which no idea can be formed but by tliose who have heard him. His words have sometimes frozen my young blood into stagna- tion, and sometimes made it pace in such a hurry through my veins, that I could scarce support it. He however, embellished his ideas by classical amusements, and occasionally read the sermons of Barrow, which he considered as a mine of nervous expressions ; but he borrowed his noblest images from the lan- guage of inspiration." Nor need we hesitate to rank with these great models both of parliamentary and forensic eloquence, the American Hamil- ton and Ames. Concerning the former of these, we may say, consistently with all proper abatement for national predilections, that in respect to versatility and compass of intellect, united with an elegant and powerful elocution, he is to be classed with the very first order of men. And concerning the latter, it is safe to affirm, that if he was second to Hamilton, he has had very few superiors, in any age or country. I come now to mention some things in the character of our age and of our country, that are favorable to the, cultivation of eloquence, especially in the pulpit. No adequate view of this topic can be taken, without glanc- ing at the pronjinent principles which are now operating on the affairs of the world. In looking forward on the probable char- acter of our country, there are some things, if 1 mistake not, which wear an aspect decidedly favorable to the cause of sacred eloquence. F'irst rate orators, we have no reason to expect will ever be common in the pulpit. They have never been common in any profession. The qualities necessary to confer eminence in this art, are more various, and more rarely combined in the same '^ 474 CHARACTERISTICS OF OUR AGE individual, than those which are necessary to make great men in other departments of human action. Hence, among all the past generations of the world, only a very few names can properly be ranked in this class. It is an unreasonable demand made by many, who have little acquaintance with the subject, that our public seminaries should furnish all their pupils, with gifts of elocution of that high order, which only a small number in any age have attained. To admit that but few great orators have arisen in this nation, is only to admit what has been generally true of other nations, at least of our cotemporaries. Nay, it may without scruple be affirmed, that no other country ancient or modern, at so early a period of its existence, has produced so many good speakers as ours. That we may judge how far it is reasonable to look for ad- vances in sacred eloquence, we must consider at some length, to what extent the civil and religious characteristics of the age, will probably moclify the influence of the Christian ministry. That debasement of the human mind which began with the decline of the Roman empire, lasted for many dreary ages. It was aggravated by the Feudal system, and finally was consum- mated by the monstrous usurpations of the Papal Hierarchy. The same combination of causes which filled Europe with castles and petty despots, created universal ignorance, and anarchy, and rapine. In that succession of signal events, which included the in- vention of printing, and of the mariner's compass, the discovery of America, and the Protestant Reformation, the profound dark- ness of preceding centuries was gradually dispelled. These were directly preparatory to the new period which is now open- ing on the world. The first grand result of these causes was the settlement of this country. Our political institutions did not result from ac- cident, nor from transient impulses. They grew out of princi- ples deep rooted in the Saxon race; principles which had been gradually matured and developed in the land of our progenitors, amid convulsions that often shook the foundations of society ; FAVORABLE TO ELOQUENCE. 475 principles which had been sanctified by the best blood of the country, poured out at the stake and on the scaffold, which in the face of arbitrary power, had waxed bolder by conflict, and acquired new strength in many a dubious and sanguinary strug- gle. The spirit of British liberty, enlightened by the gospel, invigorated by its hopes, and contending for privileges a thou- sand times more precious than those which inspired the in- trepidity of Roman heroes, could not be resisted. Cassar, at the summit of his power, and with all his armed legions could not have crushed this spirit. So God in his wisdom would have it, that the infatuated councils of Europe exiled her noblest sons, to establish an empire in the west. And by such a disci- pline, our Puritan ancestors, and the French Protestants, who fled to this country, were prepared for the mighty enterprise before them. The next grand result of these causes, was the independence of the United States ; an event, which after the experience of half a century, it is not extravagant to believe is fraught with consequences, of which the men who achieved it had little con- ception. The prospect of stability to our institutions rests on circumstances which I have no time to notice, except to say that they are such as have never attended any former experi- ment in behalf of a popular government. But there are several characteristics, which are directly connected with my present inquiry. The first is, that our government is founded on public opinion. The second is, that this public opinion, to be a substantial basis of prosperity, must be guided by the in- fluence of religion. Tiie third is, that this religious influence must be created and sustained chiefly through the instrumental- ity of an enliglitened and powerful Christian ministry. It were easy to show that the systems of education, the literature and taste in which Christian countries so far surpass others, are to be ascribed in no small measure, to men in the sacred profes- sion. But I do not so much refer to that influence, which bears on the mass of a community, from its public literature and its educated men, as to that direct influence, which is ex- 476 CHARACTERISTICS OF OUR AGE erted by religious teachers. Public preaching is the system which infinite wisdom devised for the general instruction of the world. By this means multitudes in the common ranks of life, may gain at little expense, such a fund of knowledge as they have no opportunity to acquire from books, or from any other source. From the pulpit they may be taught to think, to rea- son, and what is more, io feel and act as becomes men. Facts speak distinctly on this subject. Take the map of the world, and put down your finger on those regions where the common people regularly attend on the instructions of well qualified Christian teachers, and these you see are the same regions, where the common people are most distinguished for good sense, sobriety of morals, and general strength of character. Gross vices shrink away from such an influence with tenfold more certainty, than from the most elaborate systems of jurisprudence, or the severest inflictions of penal statutes. We may apply these principles, in estimating the aspects of this age as related to sacred eloquence. The world has seen an influence of the clergy, which for ages triumphed in its as- cendency over human minds ; an influence, however, not result- ing from intellectual or moral elevation in those who filled the sacred office, but from the degradation of other men. Without lookingback on the revolting scenes of the dark ages, let Spain during the last century, stand as an example of what I mean. Her clergy had almost unlimited control over popular opinion and feeling. This could not be ascribed to their superior in- telligence ; nor to the weight of their moral character, for as a body they were grossly deficient in both these respects. Nor could it be ascribed to the purity of their doctrines, or the power of their miiiistrations ; for the authority of the Gospel was subordinated to that of the church, and its glory was ob- scured by a mummery of senseless ceremonies. To what then was this ascendency owing ? To the ignorance of the people ; and thence to a childish credulity and superstition ; the same as gives ascendency to the necromancer over untaught minds. This popular ignorance grew out of despotic government, dread- FAVORABLE TO ELO(iUENCE. 477 ing the diffusion of intellectual light, and associating with itself a religion and a priesthood congenial to its purposes. Suppose now the superincumbent weight of these mountains piled on wretched Spaniards to be removed, and a free govern- ment to succeed their despotism. These shapes of human beings by degrees become men. Their souls rise and expand ; they think, and reason, and claim to themselves the attributes of an individual and independent existence. Just in the same proportion, this priesthood, with its farago of rites, its wafers and beads, its crucifixes and consecrated water, goes down to insignificance. Such a revolution, not in the condition of Spain only, but of the nations generally where absolute governments exist, the aspect of the times leads us to look for, as a probable event. The train has long been laid, and the progress towards such a result has been steady and obvious, especially since the period of our own national independence. Let the question return then, in reference to these United States, on what footing hereafter must the influence of the Christian ministry rest ? All sources of influence, according to the genius of our institutions, are accommodated to one pre- dominant principle, the force of public opinion. As belonging to a great community of freemen, every one claims to himself the rights of a man, and is bound to acknowledge no sovereignty over his faith, his conscience, or his actions, but the necessary obligations of duty. Others may lament, if they will, that a factitious reverence for the clergy no longer exists ; but with all my repugnance to that reckless spirit of innovation, which sometimes tramples with undistinguishing foot, on what is venerable as well as what is worthless, I thank God, that the human mind is raised from the degradation of past ages, so that it will not bow to any dictation of mere authority, nor to any figment of superstition. Henceforth the preacher's influence must depend, not on his official title, not on his cassoc or band, but on himself. His control over the opinions of others, will be just according to the purity and power with which he preach- es the gospel. 61 478 CHARACTERISTICS OF OUR AGE I have extended these remarks thus far, because they pre- pare the way for that result which I wish briefly and prominent- ly to state. If the above views are just, a new era is opening for sacred eloquence. Besides the circumstances which 1 have mentioned, arising from the intellectual character of the age, and the free institutions of our country, as adapted to promote elevation of motive and effort in the preacher ; I add briefly that powerful mo7-al causes conspire greatly to increase this ten- dency. Let any man maturely reflect on the combination of moral influences, that have come down to us from the Protes- tant Reformation, through our Saxon ancestors, especially the fathers of the Plymouth colony ; then let him look at the tide of Christian benevolence which set in upon the world, during the closing years of the last century ; let him begin with the formation of the London Missionary Society, and see following in rapid succession the Bible Society, the Tract Society, the Sabbath School system, the mighty enterprise of Foreign and of Home Missions; and then let him ask, whose work it is to or- ganize and to keep in operation, this immense machinery ? It is the work of Christian ministers ; it is theirs so preeminently, that if they withdraw from it, the whole movement will stop. But how is their influence to bear upon the world, so as to sustain and accelerate this movement ? Not by the reputation of pro- found scholarship, but by the power of argument and persua- sion which they can wield in the pulpit. Hence it is, that the spirit of the age calls for the cultivation of that eloquence which appeals to the heart, or which is properly termed popu- lar. Men may listen to an address on some abstract subject, and may call it eloquent, though it awakens no emotion, and touches no spring of action ; but it is not eloquent unless it stirs the hearers, by pressing conscience, rousing passion, and urging home something to be done. On this principle, the characteristics of this age are eminently favorable to the eloquence of the pulpit. It is an age of stir and excitement ; mind is acting on mind ; and the mass of in- telligence acquires momentum by its own action. Since the TAVORABLE TO ELOQUENCE. 479 world began, so many and so powerful causes have never been brought to operate on a whole community, as those which con- spire to promote expansion and vigor of intellect in this coun- try. Reverence for authority and names is passing away. In- fluence, so preposterously and so long allied to hirth and wealth, must find its chief resources here, in mind and moral character. And if the fair fabric which the hand of God has begun to rear is not destined to untimely ruin, — if this great people are not to be given up to the reprobation of heaven, the mighty system of argument and motive which the gospel combines, and which it is the province of sacred eloquence to enforce on the hearts of men, never found so perfect a theatre for its appropriate influence as our country presents. But then the minister of the gospel, that he may magnify his office in an age of intellectual action and enterprise, must not only keep pace with the general pro- gress of mind, but must apply all his energies and acquisitions to his own sacred work, and from motives peculiar to his own ho- ly religion. And let every preacher settle it with himself as a maxim, that gifted as he may be with intellectual and moral en- dowments, the amount of his influence must depend cheifly on his pen and his tongue. LECTURE VII. PREPARATORY PRACTICE IN ELOCUTION. OBJECTIONS. DIRECTIONS. The next point to which our attention will be directed, is the utility of preparatory exercises in elocution. The remarks which I have to .make on this part of the sub- ject, will be thrown into the form of reply to several objections, which have been made against such exercises. The j^rs^ objection is one that is often heard in this indefinite form ; " It is weight and warmth of thought, that does execu- tion in the pulpit ; he who feels will of course speak feelingly ; to exhibit the appearance of being in earnest, all he needs is to be so in reality. But this quality must be inherent in the man, and can never be conferred by preparatory study and prac- tice in speaking." There is some confusion in the premises, which invalidates the conclusion. Feeling is certainly the great secret of elo- quence ; all other things cannot atone for its absence. But in execution, the poiver of emotion in a speaker often depends absolutely on practice in speaking. Want of skill may ruin feeling in him who might speak with great earnestness, if he had the command of his powers. Let us take an illustration from the military art. Courage and muscular strength are the grand elements of a soldier. These must be in the man, and cannot be produced by any process of drilling. True : — but does it follow that drilling and skill in tactics are useless to a soldier ? He is a new recruit. He has PREPARATORY PRACTICE IN ELOCUTION. 481 never seen an enemy : — has never been taught to march, to wheel, to fire, to charge with bayonet : — has never heard the roar of cannon, nor the " horrible discord" of " arms on ar- mour clashing." Full of courage as he was in camp, lead him into battle, thus inexpert, and he fights not at all, or fights to no purpose ; he knows not what he is doing. Now apply the illustration. The objection supposes that all which the young preacher needs, is deep feeling. No matter about discipline in speaking, or even in the use of language, for this must be useless too, on the same principle. Suppose this preacher to have a good understanding and a warm heart. In the study he has deep feeling, but place him in the pulpit, and he loses, not his feeling merely, but perhaps his conscious- ness of existence. He has never looked an assembly in the face ; — he is dashed at the multitude of eyes directed towards himself; — he is startled at the sound of his own voice. How vain it is to talk of feeling in this man ! His heart swells and palpitates indeed, but with other emotions than those which are the result of piety or the spring of eloquence. A second objection, nearly related to the foregoing is this ; Though skill is necessary to give scope to feeling, yet the prac- tice of speaking only for the sake of learning to speak, injures feeling, and produces habits of formality ; so that it is better on the whole to defer all attempts to acquire a good elocution till one enters on the actual profession of public speaking. I wish to state this objection in all its strength, and while I admit a real difficulty in the case, it will be easy to maintain that the remedy proposed by the objector, is inconsistent both with common sense and experience. It is inconsistent with common sense. The art of rhetorical reading is a branch of elocution which requires feeling. Will it be said, in the spirit of this objection, that the only way to be sure of reading well, is to avoid learning to read ? Suppose that on the /our f A of July, it is proposed to have that celebrated state paper, the " Declaration of Independence," read to a great assembly ; and the design is to inspire the bosoms of the 482 PREPARATORY PRACTICE IN ELOCUTION. hearers with the noble spirit of patriotism which that instrument breathes ; who shall be selected as the reader ? — A novice in reading ? or one who has been well instructed, and has acquired an animated and impressive manner ? The same inquiry would apply to the delivery of an oration, or to any other rhetorical exercise. If neglect of discipline in elocution, is the surest way to make one eloquent, when he comes into the profession of public speaking, why have not the American pulpit, and bar, and senate always been filled with preeminent speakers ? Will it be said by any one that there has not been neglect enough to produce this result ? It is contrary to the analogies of all human affairs, to suppose that ignorance and indifference concerning any art, should qualify men to excel in it. Where for example, would common sense teach us to look for skilful navigators 1 Not among the peasants of the Alps, or of the Arabian Desart, but among men accustomed to the ocean, and trained to the art of navigation frorn early life. Where do we look for skill in architecture! Not among the woods and mud cottages of Canada ; but in populous cities, where elegance in building calls for the cultivation of genius and taste in the architect, who aspires to eminence in his profession. And where, for the same reasons, should we expect to find orators'? Certainly where oratory has most influence, and is most cultivated in young men, as a branch of regular training for public life.* * It is objected against ihe preparatory study of eloquence, that both oratory and poetry have reached their highest point in all countries, before theoretic principles have been studied in form ; and that they have always declined, after criticism has promulgated its canons. I say, 1. Orators and poets rise in a country just when it is in a con- dition to invigorate and expand men's minds, and awaken all their energies. 2. From this period they decline. 3. After this decline, criticism and taste of an intellectual cast may still exist, though the fire of genius is gone. 4. Such criticism, though it cannot create the fire of genius, is not to be made accountable for its decline ; this is to be explained by more general causes. The fact however is not as alleged, in all its extent. The oratory of Greece reached its height in Demosthenes, who died the same year with Aristotle — her greatest critic. Isocrates was also cotempo- rary with Demosthenes. The eloquence of Rome reached its height PREPARATORY PRACTICE IN ELOCUTION. 483 So then, it is said, you will make an orator by rule, will you ? Just as I would make any other man by rule, where genius and sensibility need to be guided by elementary principles, and disciplined into skill by the gradual transformation of practice. There is an ancient maxim, " Every log is not a Mercury," — which applies to this, as well as to other subjects. And he who can tell us that eloquence is not to be produced by art, without genius, has made as profound a discovery as he who could tell us that an orator is not a chair or table ; — or that the carpenter's axe cannot hew a log into a divinity. But when it is admitted concerning any one, that the Creator of all things has made him a man, the question remains how far does it de- pend on this man, to make himself an orator ? I say then, in the next place, the objection is contrary to experience. No man is horn an orator, any more than he is born a perfect man in other respects. How does his body at- tain stature and strength ? By daily food and exercise from childhood. How does he learn to use his hands 1 — By using them. How does he acquire the power of speech ? — By speak- ing. How is the soldier, (if I may again draw illustration from his profession,) how is the soldier prepared to scale a rampart, or to climb a mountain ? By sitting still till he is called to march on a campaign ? No more is the orator qualified to enter on the field of his public vocation, without preparatory disci- pline of his faculties. If it were a fact, that they are the most successful speakers in actual life, who have most neglec- ted such discipline, it would form a strange exception, as I before said, to all the analogies of human affairs. But it is not a fact. What did the great masters of antiquity do and teach on this subject ? I need not repeat the statements more than once made concerning them, in other parts of this discus- in Cicero ; and its poetry in Virgil, Horace, and Ovid. Yet Cicero and Horace were master critics. These facts show that criticism, which is only the application of reason and common sense to the ac- tion of genius, has no more tendency to extinguish it, than the con- trol of the ship's rudder has to destroy the propelling power of the wind, or of a steam engine. 484 PREPARATORY PRACTICE IN ELOCUTION. sion. Every scliolar knows, with what ardor they pursued the study and practice of oratory from early youth. All the first orators of Greece and Rome were formed in this manner. Both Horace and Juvenal refer to a custom among the Roman youth, of rehearsing original compositions and select passages from the poets. Cresollius says that the Phonasic, a kind of teachers whose business was to regulate vocal modulation, were employed by the highest classes of people ; that these teachers instructed their pupils in the varieties of strong and gentle tones, corresponding with various emotions ; that Augustus had been accustomed to these exercises, with a view to .acquire suavity and propriety of elocution ; and that Nero bestowed incredible pains on the cultivation of his voice. He says that men dis- tinguished for intelligence, and loaded with public honors, were in the practice of frequently declaiming ; and that TuUy never omitted this practice for a single day, even after he reached the head of his profession, and was acknowledged by all to be the Icing of orators. Suetonius confirms the statement of Cresollius respecting Caesar, that from his early youth he assiduously, [laboriosissime is his word,) cultivated eloquence. Even at the head of an army, and amid the hurry of a campaign, he daily maintained the practice of declaiming in his tent. Though not deficient in powers of extemporary address, he never trusted himself in speaking to the Senate, to the people, or to the sol- diers, without composing what he was to say, and then com- mitting it to memory, and carefully rehearsing it beforehand. Efforts of the same sort, in modern times, few as they are and comparatively limited in extent, have been attended with similar success. By the aid of a Rhetorical Society, established about the middle of the last century, in the University of Dublin, some of the most eloquent men of modern times have been produced, men who have gained the first honors of the British empire.* * Mr. Canning's success as a public speaker, and a political man, was owing in no small degree to his early practice in speaking, as a member of a debating society in London, to which he belonged while studying law in the Middle Temple. DIRECTIONS. 485 In our own country, too, I presume the fact is a very general one, that those who have become distinguished speakers, began to give promise of such distinction, in the efforts of early life.* The result is, that the objection cannot be well grounded ; — for though a young man, through some great fault in his instruc- tors or in himself, may mismanage his faculties and acquire bad habits in speaking, it is preposterous to say that he must shun this danger, by never using his faculties in speaking, till he comes into actual business. Individuals I have known, who from conviction, or indolence, or diffidence, have embraced such an opinion, but their subsequent character has furnished little proof that the opinion was a wise one. It is just as absurd to suppose that a young man can learn to speak well without speaking, as to suppose that he might learn to walJc, without walking. But I have admitted that there is a real difficulty connected with these preparatory exercises in elocution, of which I shall be expected to take some notice. The difficulty is this ; — there is a constant tendency in young speakers to be artificial in manner, from the fact that they so often speak without ob- ject, and without interest. To obviate this difficulty, I will now suggest some directions which have occurred to me, in the course of much observation on the subject. The Jirst direction is, — Let your tones, attitudes, and gesture be so completely your own, that is, so inwrought into your hab- its, as to cost you no reflection at the time of speaking. But how is this familiarity of habit to be acquired ? Just as the sol- dier learns to march without reflecting on the accent of the drum or the length of his step. Just as skill in any other art is attain- ed,— by practice. And as the poet says o^kiiowledge, I would say in this case, — ' a little' practice is a dangerous thing. It brings a man at the moment of execution, to keep up a compa- rison between h\s practice and his rules ; and this infallibly cre- ates awkwardness in all cases. The man who enters or leaves * Alexander Hamilton. 62 486 DIRECTIONS. a room by rule, or gives you the common salutation of civility by rule, shows you that he is a rustic, practising the lessons of po- liteness. Is politeness then without rules ? — No ; the gentle- man is such, not from mechanical application of these rules, but because they have been gradually inwrought into his habits, by intercourse with cultivated society. In the same way the ora- tor is formed, not accidentally, not mechanically ; but by the gradually transforming influence o( practice. This enables him to correct what is amiss, and to confirm what is right in his elo- cution ; and to speak spontaneously as the best rules re- quire without recollecting, at the time, that such rules exist. But this supposes much practice. No man overcomes a bad habit as to voice or gesture, or forms a good one, without sys- tematic and persevering effort. Heretofore, theological students, living with private teachers, have had no opportunity for preparatory practice in speaking, except perhaps the attention, (in many cases certainly, the ve- ry inadequate attention,) which they had given to the subject in their academical course. Hence the habits with which they entered the pulpit have cleaved to them for life. Here and there one has had soul enough to burst through all difficulties ; — while some from indolence, some from diffidence, and some from serious persuasion, that all attention to manner, is beneath the business of an ambassador from heaven, have never attempt- ed to speak well ; — or have tamely relinquished the desire of improvement, after a few feeble and fruitless endeavors. Secondly, — Aim to choose a subject in which you feel, at least for the time being, a strong interest. Such a subject you ought to find, or you will not speak earnestly. Such a subject you can find, certainly two or three times in a year, or you ought not to be a minister in the nineteenth century. Thirdly, — When you have chosen your subject, take some happy moment, in which the mind is awake, and write upon it. Do this at least one fortnight before you are to speak. Not to dwell on the advantages of prompt and seasonable preparation in cases of this sort, let me only say, that by delaying to write DIRECTIONS. 487 till the last moment, you gain nothing in time, and you lose much in other respects. Because it is too late to commit your composition to memory, you read it ; or else speak with such laborious recollection, as withdraws your whole mind from the sentiment, and fixes it in anxious suspense on the hazard of los- ing the order of words. This is the worst predicament, in which a student of oratory can place himself. To read in such a case is bad enough, but to speak with a hesitating memory, is the certain way to make no advances except in bad habits. Yet not a few Christian students keep their minds in this sad condi- tion from year to year, that they are never ready for an exer- cise till the hour comes, or perhaps till a week afterwards. Fourthly, — Cultivate susceptibility of emotion, or the habit of commanding and concentrating your powers at pleasure. Keep your intellect and heart in the state of good fuel, ready to take fire and blaze where there is occasion. The man who is so sluggish in temperament, that he cannot enter with strong in- terest into the feelings of Brutus or Anthony, at the funeral of Caesar, cannot be eloquent. Fifthly, — Study directness of address, as a habit. Speak as though words were confined to move in right lines, the short- est course to their object. It is said of Massillon that in his greatest efforts, " every expression was a javelin thrown at the heart." To attain this quality, study the Bible, study men, study yourself. Sixthly, — Cultivate a manly desire to improve by the friend- ly remarks of others. A fastidious self-complacency, or a sick- ly delicacy, that cannot be told a fault, forbids manly effort, and valuable improvement in speaking. Finally, — Resolve to be a good speaker, and act according- ly. The same pride that refuses to correct faults by any pro- ess that exposes them, often betrays its weakness by looking with an eye of affected and self-complacent scornfulness on the efforts for their correction, which are made by others. But this is not the spirit that has made eminent men in any profession. In war, in politics, in Christian enterprise, it is a maxim worthy 488 DIRECTIONS. of this age, " Expect great things, attempt great things." And surely it cannot be thought unworthy of the Christian scholar to aim, and to declare that he does aim, to acquire an impressive elocution, when all admit that this, in the pulpit, is the prime instrument of his usefulness, and most admit that he must ac- quire it in early life or never. LECTURE VIII. STRENGTH OF VOICE. INCONVENIENCES OF A FEEBLE VOICE. ON WHAT STRENGTH OF VOICE DEPENDS. Among the prime requisites of a good delivery, it is essen- tial that the speaker be heard with ease and pleasure. To ac- complish this, he must employ a proper strength of enuncia- tion. When I speak of a strong voice, however, I must not be understood to confound vociferation with eloquence. This absurd mistake, though often made by speakers and hearers of a certain class, is seldom made by men of discernment. That voice is loud enough, in any given case, which perfect- ly reaches a whole assembly, with a reserve of strength to en- force an energetic passage, in a manner corresponding with the emotions of the speaker. We will now enquire in the First place, what are some of the inconveniences to which a feeble voice subjects a public speaker 1 When he labors under this difficulty to a considerable extent, either he will not be heard at all, and so his discourse will be absolutely lost, or what is more common, he will be heard par- tially and with difficulty. Now laborious listening excites impatience in a hearer, that often amounts to vexation. It gives pain by sympathy ; as he who listens shares in the fatigues which is apparently endured by the speaker. It gives pain too as a mental labor, in which the invention and industry of the hearer, are kept on the stretch to make out by construction, the sense of that which was utter- ed so imperfectly, as to reach his ear only in disjointed parts. 490 INCONVENIENCES OF A FEEBLE VOICE. When this difficulty is perceived to result from the want of vi- tal strength, it awakens pity. When it is supposed, as it com- monly is, and often with too much reason, to result from a slug- gish soul, it awakens feelings of another sort, differing in de- gree from uneasiness to indignation. I have known more than one instance, where a young man, in his first public perform- ance as a speaker, perhaps in a commencement oration, failed so utterly in powers of voice, as to produce not only sneers at the time, but a permanent disgust, which the hearers afterwards associated with the recollection of his name. The rule of the Roman critic as to perspicuity of style, common sense applies to the voice of a speaker ; it should not only be possible to hear him, (excepting indeed those who are deaf,) but impossible not to hear him. Besides the pleasure which a powerful voice gives to an as- sembly, for reasons imphed in the above remarks, it is associa- ted with impressions of dignity and weight. Its grave and manly tones seem better adapted to the character of an orator, than those which are shrill and feeble. But there are several circumstances, from which the incon- venience of a weak voice is liable more especially to be felt. One is the injudicious structure of churches, and other edifices, the primary design of which is to accommodate an assembly in listening to one speaker. On a thorough examination of this subject, to which I was called many years ago, I was surprised to find that edifices of this sort, have generally been erected with very little intelligent regard to the principles of acoustics ; so that no architect with whom I conversed, even pretended to know why one edifice designed for public speaking, is more favorable to the sound of the voice, than another ; except that size was generally regarded as having an important influence in the case. Doubtless this is important, for the immoderate compass to which these buildings are sometimes extended, through ostentation or bad judgment, renders it impossible that their remotest parts should be reached, by a voice of any or- dinary power. But this is not the whole ground of difficulty ; INCONVENIENCES OF A FEEBLE VOICE. 491 for we find, as a matter of fact, that a room of moderate extent is sometimes very unfavorable, while a large one is sometimes very favorable to the voice of a speaker. In the structure of churches, particularly, other things are of more consequence than size. Vogue in dress may vary with every change of the moon, and the inconvenience be comparatively trifling ; but the freaks of fashion should hardly be permitted to regulate the principles of architecture, especially in the structure of buildings that are to last for ages ; and the main purpose of which cannot properly be sacrificed to the claims of a capricious taste. By far the most serious mistake in the structure of churches, is the excessive height to which the ceiling is carried, by rea- son of which the impulse of the voice escapes upward, so as to fall with very diminished efi:ect upon the body of an assembly below. In other cases, arches are so unskilfully formed, as to return a strong but broken echo, confounding all distinctness of sound. In other cases, the same mischief arises from the structure of gallei'ies, and the appendage of a sounding board, placed immediately over the speaker's head, so as to return a strong, instant echo to his own ear, without any imaginable benefit to the audience. Any or all these disadvantages,! may add, it is not unusual to see aggravated by an elevation of the jmlpit so extreme, as to direct the range of the speaker's voice quite above the assembly he is addressing. It is indeed sur- prising, that a fault in architecture so obvious as this, should yet be so common. On the other hand, the preacher is exposed to difficulties, which rarely await any other public speaker. In new countries especially he may be called to speak in the open air ; or in private dwellings, where the noise is impeded by partitions, and the elasticity of the air is destroyed by a crowd of hearers. — The great inconvenience which always attends a feeble voice is liable to be much increased, in individual cases, by circumstan- ces like the foregoing. There is one other disadvantage to which such a voice al- most infallibly subjects a speaker, the adoption of a key so high, 492 VOCAL ORGANS. as not only to destroy all Interesting variety of modulation, but to exhaust and endanger the lungs. But on this topic I only touch here, as I must soon introduce it in another connexion. Our SECOND inquiry is, on what does strength of voice de- pend 1 It depends, 1. On perfect organs of speech. These my limits do not allow me to describe at length. But while the vagrant musician must tune his instrument, before he can use it, and must understand its principles before he can tune it ; it is indeed surprising that those wonderful organs on which the faculty of speech depends, should be so little under- stood, even by public speakers. The study which led David to exclaim, " I am fearfully and wonderfully made ;" and even Galen, a heathen anatomist, to write a hymn in praise of the Creator, surely must deserve attention from the Christian philosopher, especially the preacher, with whose chief duties it is so intimately connected. Every young minister ought, at an early period of his professional life, to read some able treatise on the anatomy and physiology of the vocal organs. Among these in order of importance, the Lungs hold the first place. Speakers are too apt to forget, what a very small acquain- tance with the human structure is sufficient to teach, that the lungs have other functions to discharge, essential to the animal economy, besides that of vocal sound. They are the instru- ment of respiration, by which a current of air passes into and out of the chest ; and also the laboratory where the blood is re- fined and prepared for a healthy distribution to the extremities. The doctrine of many respectable chymists, assigning to the lungs the office of generating animal caloric, by admitting the oxygen, inhaled with the atmospheric air, to mingle with the blood, is questioned by others of so high authority, that it must be regarded as doubtful. As I would not anticipate the remarks which I have to make on the care of the vocal organs, it is enough to say here, that the most important of these organs, so delicate in its structure, so complex in its operations, and so VOCAL ORGANS. 493 thoroughly protected from violence, by the casement of bones in which the Creator has enclosed it, ought not to be trifled with, by the ignorance or carelessness of its possessor. Though a strong voice does not always result from vigor of lungs, it cannot exist without this. The bellows of an organ may be good, while its sound may be spoiled by the imperfection of its pipes. Other things being equal, he who has the most roomy chest, whose lungs admit the greatest quantity of air, and expel it with the greatest ease and force, has the strongest voice. Animals that have no lungs, as fish and certain insects, have no voice. The Trachea is that cartilaginous tube, by which the air ])asses to and from the lungs. The length of this tube, and the firmness of its texture, have an important influence on the voice. A singer, in passing through the scale of musical notes, from the higher to the lower, shortens this tube by inclining the head forward ; and ascending the scale, lengthens it by a contrary motion. To this tube chiefly, is owing the powerful voice of certain birds, their trachea or windpipe being very long in pro- portion to their size. The Larynx is situated at the upper end of the foregoing tube ; or rather is that part of the windpipe, which is next the mouth. It is a kind of cartilaginous box, very delicate and elastic, and so suspended by muscles as to be easily elevated or depressed. At the bottom of this box, is that projection or knot on the throat, which is very perceptible, especially in the neck of males, and which has been called pomuni Adami, with some fanciful allusion to our first progenitor's having eaten the forbidden fruit. In the formation of musical notes, this box rises and falls nearly half an inch in the octave ; and it is this larynx, with its curious organization, that is the seat of the voice. Its cartilages are the most firm and elastic in animals that utter the loudest cries or the deepest roarings, as the pea- cock, the elephant, and the lion. And the dissection of human subjects after death, shows that there is unusual firmness of 63 494 VOCAL ORGANS. texture in the same organ, in the case of public criers, and others distinguished for power of voice while living. The Glottis is a small aperture at the top of the larynx, through which the breath passes from the cavities below, direct- ly into the mouth. It is so exquisite in structure, as to be di- lated or contracted with perfect ease and exactness ; while at the same time the tremulous chords of the larynx are strained or relaxed, as occasion requires, forming at once a resemblance to a wind and stringed instrument. The orifice of the glottis is adjusted with a nicely almost incredible to the purposes of vo- cal intonation ; skilful anatomists having decided that a varia- tion in the capacity of this orifice, not exceeding the fifty-fourth part of a silk-worm's thread, or one three hundred and fifty- fourth part of a hair, will occasion a difference of tone. Hence the irregularities of voice which take place in puberty, one part of this delicate apparatus being then more tense and another more relaxed ; a state of things unfavorable to unity of tone. Hence too as the aperture of the glottis increases in size and firmness, by advance in age, the voice assumes a correspondent strength and gravity of intonation. And the fact that the capacity of this orifice is one third smaller, as well as that its cartilages are less firm, in women than in men, is the reason why the male voice is graver in tone than the female. The Epiglottis is a perfect valve, so adjusted as to close up the aperture of the glottis. Its purpose is to secure this deli- cate organ both of respiration and sound from injury, especially when the food passes over it, in its way, by another avenue to the stomach. By the above organs voice is produced, but not speech. The power of articulation depends on the modifications which sound undergoes by the action of a distinct set of organs. Before mentioning these, however, I have a few remarks to make on the action of the organs just described, especially the Glottis. Among the elementary sounds of which language is composed, there is a remarkable difference, as to the facility or difficulty with which they are uttered. This difference depends on the VOCAL ORGANS. 495 organs employed in enunciation, the sounds formed chiefly by the glottis, being incomparably easier than those formed chiefly within the mouth. The reason is obvious ; in uttering the open vowels, nothing is necessary but a stream of air flowing equably through the orifice of the glottis ; whereas in uttering the conson- ants, the organs are thrown into positions very various, and some- limes very difficult. As an example of my meaning take the word name ; and on the vowel (a) you may dwell, and draw it out so long as the supply of air in the lungs permits, while the position of the organs remains the same ; but the instant you strike the (m,) the current of breath through the mouth is stop- ped by the closing of the lips, and turned through the nostrils. So in speaking the word note, the sound of (o) is made by a single expiration through the glottis, and may be protracted at pleasure. But in passing on to utter (t) the tip of the tongue is suddenly thrust against the roof of the mouth, stopping both air and sound. As a practical corollary from these facts ; it would seem to follow, that those languages must he most flowing and harmonic, which admit the greatest proportion of sounds made by the glot- tis. Such is the real state of the case ; and it is not a little cu- rious that, on this point, the most barbarous, and the most pol- ished languages agree. In the south of Europe, for example, as in Italy and Spain, indolence perhaps, rather than refinement of taste, has exchanged in the modern languages, all the harsh- er sounds, for those which are smoother and more liquid, and cost no labor of organs, except to open the mouth, and expel the air through the glottis. On the contrary, the common opin- ion that barbarous languages are peculiarly harsh and dissonant, is erroneons. Doctor John Mason Goode, a late medical writer of reputation, says ; " Savages, in speaking, as in any other ex- ertion, take no more pains than are absolutely necessary ; and hence content themselves with the soft and simple vowel sounds, drawled out, indeed, at too great length ; and when they are driven to the use of consonants, select those that give them least trouble to enunciate. On this account Lord Monboddo is 496 VOCAL ORGANS. correct in observing, that ' the words of barbarous languages are long and full of vowels, not short and full of consonants, as has been imagined.' " He then quotes from Dr. Percivai of Dublin the following remark : " The Otaheitans call Cooke, Toote. Their language is beautifully soft and vocal. A sen- tence reported in Cooke's second voyage, is distinguished by the harmonious collocation of its words : " Tootaha, taio Toote, — mutte Tootaha." " Tootaha, the friend of Cooke, — dead is Tootaha." Man in savage life is fond of ease, and would not move a muscle, if he could help it ; in the voluptuousness of polished life he loves it equally ; and is, if possible, still less disposed to exertion ; and hence this extraordinary resemblance in the character of their articulations." In accordance with these theories, is another set of facts respecting stammering persons, who cannot enunciate certain consonant sounds, especially in difficult combinations. This con- vulsive action of the vocal organs, the writer above mentioned, evidently regards as chiefly a mental affection, because he ac- counts for the ability of the stammerer to sing, by the strong interest with which the mind is engrossed, by the tune. In res- pect to reading too he says; " One of the worst stutterers I have ever known, was one of the best readers of Milton's Par- adise Lost. He was a scholar of considerable attainments, and had taken some pains with himself for his natural defect, with- out success; yet the moment an interesting poem was opened, his defect completely vanished, from his being led captive by the force of the subject, and the great interest he took in this branch of polite letters." Now I have no doubt that intense mental interest in what he utters, must greatly alleviate the hes- itation of the stammerer ; and that for a reason similar in its influence, the practice of Demosthenes to cure stammering, was founded on sound philosophy, when he declaimed on the seashore, where his mind would be occupied with the majestic roar of the ocean, and his voice carried to its utmost pitch of energy. But there is a more simple explanation of these phe- nomena. The singer docs not stammer because ho utters only ORGANS OF ARTICULATION. 497 vocal sounds, consisting in the stream of breath issuing through the aperture of the glottis. There is nothing to hinder him or to occasion hesitation, if he keeps his mouth open, and lets his voice flow. In reading poetry, the same principle holds ; the harmonic structure being such as greatly to relieve the stam- merer, by rythmical regularity of accent, and the open vowels recurring so constantly, that a large proportion of the sounds are those formed by the glottis alone. If the foregoing premises are correct, the chief remedy for stuttering is simply and only this, to select, as a matter of cal- culation, and practice with steady perseverance, those sounds which keep the glottis open. By a similar process the public speaker, who would cultivate in his own voice, the power of ut- tering single words or sentences, with the greatest fullness, ro- tundity, and strength, should accustom himself to read passa- ges which call him to swell, and expand, and prolong the vow- el sounds, that admit of the greatest loudness of tone. A few experiments may convince any man, that the voice, by proper management for such a purpose, is capable of almost indefinite improvement in strength. I proceed now to mention very briefly, the Organs of Artic- ulation. The chief of these is the tongue. By its intimate connex- ion with the larynx, its muscular texture, its shape, and its ac- tivity, its aid is important in modifying vocal tones. In an in- stant it can be made long and short, tense or relaxed, concave or convex. It is applied with equal ease to the teeth, lips, or palate. According to its positions, the breath passes out, by a full or narrow stream, through the mouth, or is directed through the nostrils, or is entirely obstructed. The importance of this organ in language, is obvious from one unquestionable fact, that in all common cases, the man who is without a tongue, whether by congenital defect, or by disease, is a dumb man. It is doubdess for this reason, that tongue and language are often used as synonymous words. It cannot indeed be questioned, that there have been cases in which the 498 ORGANS OF ARTICULATION. power of articulation remained, when the tongue was destroyed or rendered useless ; but these facts, and the stranger exploits of ventriloquism, however they may be explained, do not at all invalidate the general statement, that the tongue is the chief or- gan of speech. Next in order is the palate, the concave arch of the mouth, according to the elevation of which is the depth of tone to the voice. The nostrils, the lips, and the teeth, all have a distinct but important office to discharge, in the exercise of speaking. An obstruction of the nasal avenues, by a cold in the head, a polypus, or any organic defect, produces what is called the na- sal voice, or in common phrase, speaking through the nose ; — a very incorrect description, by the way, of a defect arising wholly from interruption of the usual passage of sound through the nostrils. This nasal voice is often occasioned or aggravated by the preposterous habit of taking snvff, in such quantities as to stimulate and obstruct the cavities of the nose. Every one must have observed too, how a contusion on the lip, or the fissure called hare-lip, or the loss of even a single front tooth, produces a vitiated articulation. I will add the suggestion here, that the best way for a man to become acquainted with his own vocal organs, is to observe them with care, especially when in action. Let him watch these organs, for example, in uttering the vowels and mutes. He will find that (a) in all, draws back the tongue, and makes it concave; while (e) in mete, makes it convex, and thrusts it forward. Let him try to protract the sound of a mute, and ascertain the difference in the action of his organs, that produ- ces the sound of (th) in think and in thou. By a little perse- verance in such an elementary examination, he will easily understand the operation of these delicate and wonderful organs, to an extent which he could never learn from mere description. 499 NOTE. The author submitted the preceding and the two following Lec- tures to the perusal of a distinguished member of the medical profes- sion, whose attention had been particularly turned to this subject, requesting his opinion on the following points : — 1. The correctness of the Anatomical and Physiological statements. 2. The expediency of such remarks from him to Theological Stu- dents. The insertion of the reply may gratify the reader, and may also serve the twofold purpose, of confirming the correctness of the views presented in the Lecture, and of throwing some additional light on the subject. It is subjoined. — " L The Anatomical and Physiological statements seem to be technically correct, but it appears to me that the Mucous Membrane as an important part of the vocal organs, deserves a place in the de- scription,— as being the seat of most of the diseases incident to the Larynx, Trachea, and Lungs. "2. As to the expediency of such remarks to Theological Stu- dents, it would seem to depend entirely upon the solution of the question, whether they can fully understand them. This question would be easily decided, if the Directoi-s of Theological Seminaries would ])rovide the means of demonstrating these organs anatomically. This might be done at small expense in about two Lectures, and might be made not only useful, to the students, but particularly interesting to them. J. W." LECTURE IX. STRENGTH OF VOICE CONTINUED. DIRECTIONS FOR STRENGTHENING THE VOICE. Having passed in review that system of organs, on which both sound and speech depend, and the perfection of which is essen- tial to strength of voice ; I proceed to show, 2. That strength of voice depends on the proper exercise of these organs. This we might infer by analogy, from the general influence of exercise on the bodily functions. What is it that gives the day-laborer a larger hand or foot, and a firmer set of joints than the effeminate student? — Exercise. What gives to the sailor's wrist the hardness, and to his fingers the grasp of iron ? — Exer- cise. In the same way we may account for the powerful voice of certain public criers and itinerant preachers ; whose organs of sound are strengthened by use, and yet are not affected by that train of debilitating causes, to which public speakers of the sedentary and studious class are exposed. Still stronger evidence than that of analogy may be adduced, in this case, the evidence o^ facts, from which we may estimate the influence of exercise in strengthening the voice. Of Garrick, (whose attainments in strength and variety of vocal powers, show what proper management of the voice will effect,) it is said, that the habit of speaking gave to his utterance an energy so wonderful, that sentences and parts of sentences even on his under key, were distinctly audible to ten thousand people. In this statement, there can be no mistake, as it is STRENGTH OF VOICE. 501 made by Richard Cumberland, a perfect judge on such a sub- ject, and an intimate associate of the great dramatic speaker. The Abbe Maury, in describing the preaching of Bridaine, whom he ranks among the very first of French orators, says, " there were occasions on which his thundering voice gave a new energy to his eloquence, and the audience appeared in dis- may before him. He was as easily heard by ten thousand people, in the open fields, as if he had spoken under the most resounding arch." Whitefield is a still more remarkable example of this sort. The writer of his life informs us that twenty, thirty, and some- times forty thousand persons assembled to hear him preach ; and the profound silence which reigned through these promiscu- ous crowds, shows that they must have been generally reached by the preacher's voice. In one instance, it is stated, if I mis- take not, that when he preached in the open air at Philadelphia, he was heard, with tolerable distinctness, by persons across the Delaware, three quarters of a mile distant. In other cases, (and they are not a few that have fallen under my notice,) men who began to preach with a slender, tremulous utterance, have by judicious practice, acquired a manly and commanding power of voice. Still, it should be added, that not a few, by intemperate, or otherwise indiscreet management of the vocal organs, have been compelled altogether to relin- quish public speaking. Our THIRD inquiry is, — how is the voice to be strengthened by exercise'? In giving an intelligent answer to this question, it is to be re- membered that bodily effort, of every sort, quickens respiration, increases the quantity of blood in the lungs, and accelerates its circulation. This is the case especially, when the lungs are the chief organ employed, as in speaking ; and their capacity to bear the necessary effort, depends much on their being accus- tomed to such effort. The effeminate gentleman pants for breath, perhaps, in walking a few rods ; while the soldier climbs a mountain, or crosses a continent without fatigue. But require 64 502 STRENGTH Or VOICE. that soldier to read with a loud voice, for one hour, and he in turn pants, grows hoarse, and complains of intolerable fatigue. A new burden is thrown upon the animal system, because a new set of organs is called into exercise. Before proceeding to give directions as to the method of strengthening the voice, I must add here a few remarks on the connexion of the respiratory with the other vital functions. The alternate expansion and contraction of the chest, in the process of breathing, is a matter of famihar experience. When the lungs are fully inflated, the diaphragm is, at the same instant, pressed downward, the abdomen is expanded, and the blood is assisted to flow freely onward in its course. By the action of the pulmonary vessels, " the heart becomes liberated from a load, which, if it were to remain in its cavity, would oppress it, and put a stop to its action. Hence we behold at once, the important connexion that exists between the sanguiferous and the respiratory systems, and how much the soundness of the one must depend on that of the other."* While the action of the heart and arteries, however, is wholly involuntary, that of the pulmonary apparatus is, to some extent, under the control of the will. When the lungs are disturbed by violent exercise, as in running, the frequency of respiration is governed by a law of necessity ; but when they are tranquil, it may be quicker or slower according to the choice of the indi- vidual. " Where the mind has, from an early period of life, been in the habit of exercising such a control, it is wonderful to contemplate the quantity of air, which the lungs may be brought to inclose, and the length of interval through which the Hfe may be preserved without a fresh supply ; of which savage nations furnish us with striking examples, in the art of diving and re- maining under water. Diemerbroeck relates the case of a pearl diver, who, under his own eye, remained half an hour at a time under water, while pursuing his hunt for pearl niuscles."f In loud speaking, the air is forcibly expelled from the lungs, by a considerable effort, which if protracted amounts to fatigue ; * Goode I. 441. t Goode I. 442. DIRECTIONS FOR STRENGTHENING THE VOICE. 503 whereas in whispering, there is almost no effort beyond the spontaneous action of breathing. In the latter case, the res- piratory apparatus is tranquil ; but by loud speaking, in which the voice is put to its full stretch, especially when the effort is continued for sonne time, respiration is disturbed, and the heart and arterial system are thrown into commotion. The influence of habit in loud speaking, therefore, on the power of these or- gans safely to sustain the labor of public elocution, must be of incalculable importance. With these principles in view, I proceed to give some practi- cal directions for strengthening the voice. 1. On common occasions, whenever you use your voice, use as much voice as propriety will permit. The restriction, in this case, is easily applied by common sense. That vociferation at the fire side which seems to sup- pose all men deaf, is an unpardonable offence against good man- ners. There is a loudness and hardness of voice too, which in certain devotional exercises, is quite repulsive, as at meals, and in family prayer. With some such plain exceptions, cultivate a habit of full and strong enunciation. Extend it to social prayer, to exercises of the Lecture room, to conversation, in short, to all cases in which the voice is used. The quantity of voice in ordinary speech is chiefly important, as it affects your general habit. The fault against which I am guarding, often results from diffidence, or false notions of refinement. He who has been taught from childhood, always to suppress his voice, as one says, " When he becomes a man, minces out his words, like an Italian singer ; and speaks on the most alarming subjects, with the delicate tone of a waiting gentlewoman."* 2. Read aloud. — The reason why this exercise strengthens the voice is obvious. As I have intimated above, in preparing * On a voyage from New Orleans, in 1822, many of my fellow passengers were so favored with strength of lungs, and were so free to use it, as to make me wish with Addison, " that I could shut my ears as easily as my et/es, " But it was amusing to notice among them a hale athletic man who whenever he addressed to any one a question or a remark, did it in a voice so indistinct and feeble, that he was in- 504 DIRECTIONS FOR STRENGTHENING THE VOICE. to Utter a long sentence, even with a moderate stress, the lungs are inflated by a full inspiration of breath. The case is the same in uttering a short sentence, with a loud and strong note ; as when we speak but a word to a person at a distance. When this effort is continued at considerable length, the lungs, the di- aphragm, and the whole chest, alternately expand and contract, with a vigorous action, resembling the sides of a bellows in full operation. According to a general law of the animal world the effort of these organs gives them strength. Hence the Stentorophonic note of the town crier, already noticed. Hence the little urchin, trained to the business of a chimney-sweep, acquires the power of uttering sounds, which are heard almost as far as a church bell. The feeble voice of the great Athe- nian orator, acquired force and dignity, as you know, by his practice of declaiming as he walked up hill ; and amid the dashing and noise of the sea-shore. And by a similar discipline of voice, the hardy youths of Rome attained a bold and com- manding eloquence. I am happy to corroborate my own views on this subject, by extracting a few sentences from an able prize dissertation, on hemoptysis, by John Ware, M. D. — " The evil, (the failure of lungs in clergymen,) arises rather from the infrequency and ine- quality of the exercise of the lungs, than from its essential bad tendency. It should be a first object with one who engages in the clerical profession, especially if he has any of the marks of weak lungs, if he is constitutionally liable to pulmonary com- plaints, if he is subject to disorder of the digestive organs, or has a tendency to it, to accustom himself gradually to that kind of exertion, which will be required by the duties of his future profession. This is to be attempted by the constant, daily practice of loud speaking or reading. This need waste no variably desired to repeat his words. This was a bad habit in a mer- chant. But when a preacher makes a social prayer, gives thanks at table, or answers a question, in a voice scarcely audible at the distance of one yard, the habit becomes a serious injury to his great business for life. DIRECTIONS FOR STRENGTHENING THE VOICE. 505 time, and may be made to answer other good purposes. If this kind of exercise be persevered in, it seems almost certain that all, except those whose lungs are radically infirm, may ac- quire the habit of going through their professional performances, without injury ; and as for those who fail, it is better for them to know at once their incapacity, than to spend the best years of their youth, in qualifying themselves for a profession, which they must finally relinquish." It is proper to add, that aside from its connexion with elo- quence, the exercise of lungs, which I am urging, is important, as a preservative of the student's health. In this view it is re- commended by the philosophical poet Dr. Armstrong. " Read aloud, resounding Homer's strain, And wield the thunder of Demosthenes. The chest, so exercised improves in strength ; And quick vibrations through the bowels drive The restless blood." To secure the proposed advantages of this exercise, howev- er, it must not be attended to irregularly and rarely ; it must proceed on a settled plan. At least ten minutes daily, and oc- casionally half an hour should be devoted to it. Much will depend too on proper selections for the exercise. As a lounging walk fatigues, while a brisk step exhilarates the animal system ; so, to read aloud a passage from some tame di- dactic composition, is intolerably irksome ; while the voice is spontaneously swelled to its full impulse, in reading a spirited speech, or a vivid description, from prose or poetry. The same principle, I will say in passing, should never be forgotten, in original preparations for rhetorical exercises. 3. Let your position be erect, when you read ; — I mean, let it be standing, not sitting. In a sitting posture, the upward pressure of the stomach and bowels prevents the due expansion of the lungs. An inclination of the head forward, bends and shortens the trachea, and obstructs the free passage of the breath. But when you stand erect, the cavity of the chest is enlarged, respiration is free, and all the vocal organs may per- form their office without constraint. But on this head it is needless to enlarge. LECTURE X. SUGGESTIONS FOR THE PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL 0RGAN9. The foregoing inquiries, why strength of voice is important to a preacher, on what it depends, and how it is promoted by exercise, lead to some practical reflections on which I propose to enlarge. These reflections all have respect to one chief point, \he pre- servation of the vocal organs. In more than one instance, Gentlemen, I have heard young ministers, who had been my pupils, whispering with broken lungs, their surprise, that the point I am now urging should not have been seasonably thought of by themselves. My reply to them has been as it will be to any of you, should I hear you utter the same regret, some five years hence ; " It is not the fault of your Instructors, that these things have not been thought of." While this subject is in hand then, I affectionately offer you some admonitory remarks, in the hope that they may save some of you from those painful lessons, which so many have refused to learn from any teacher but experience. It is a subject, I am well aware, which belongs rather to the Medical Professor, than to me. But if the learned physician well understands the danger of the public speaker, which is not always the case, his counsel, in most instances, does not bear on the mischief in season. It is not sought except to adminis- ter the " pound of remedy," where the " ounce of prevention" was neglected. Nor am I such a novice in human affairs, as to expect that any counsels which I can give, by way of premo- nition, will be seasonably and seriously regarded by more than PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. 507 one in ten of those to whom they are addressed. One who had the very best opportunities for observation on this subject, and who was much distinguished too for discrimination of judg- ment,* remarked to me, " The student must break down him- self, before he will take warning ; very few men will learn any thing, as to the preservation of health, from the experience of others." Strange as it may seem, the great majority of students think precautions of this sort very proper for others, but alto- gether needless for themselves. So it has been, and so it prob- ably will continue to be. Yet even in this unpromising aspect of the case, I will proceed ; for should these admonitions be in- strumental of saving a single young minister from the premature sacrifice of himself, the labor of giving them will be a thousand- fold rewarded. First, to preserve the vocal organs, especially the lungs, the general tone of health must he sustained. These organs being intimately connected with a complex, ani- mal machinery, whatever serious injury befals other parts of this machinery, will probably affect these more or less directly. Peculiarly may this be expected in students and public speak- ers, who are predisposed by their employments to diseases of the chest. The frequent occurrence of blood-spitting, and pul- monary consumption among preachers, is the subject of pro- verbial remark. An effect so unquestionable, and so lamenta- ble, must have an adequate cause. This doubtless consists partly in the peculiar labors of their office, as I have repeatedly intimated. The indiscreet action to which the vocal organs are often called in loud and long con- tinued delivery, and under various adverse circumstances, ex- poses them fo much hazard, and certainly, in many instances, is sufficient to account for their absolute failure. In cases of this sort, however, I am inclined to believe from much observa- tion, that primarily the trachea, or other apparatus above the lungs, are the seat of injury, more commonly than the lungs themselves; and that if the first threatenings of disease in these * President Dwiglit. 508^ PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. organs were duly regarded, its fatal progress in destroying the lungs, might, with comparative ease, be arrested. But the efforts of preachers in the act of public speaking, is after all but a secondary cause ; the mischief has a deeper ori- gin ; it lies substantially in their habits, as men of study. The spirit of the age, especially in our own country, calls for high intellectual effort from the preacher. Go where he may almost, among our towns and villages, let him collect a congre- gation, and there are men among them, men who give a cast to public sentiment around them, who will not be put off with tame, common place sermons. They demand instruction ; at least they will not be satisfied without evidence that the man who addresses them as a Christian teacher, has bestowed some mature reflection on what he delivers. Whatever apology they may make for defects in his native powers, they insist upon it, that he shall be more than a middling man in his intellectual at- tainments ; and still more they demand that he shall be earnest^ from a deep feeling of what he delivers. We ought to rejoice, that this taste is every day increasing, and that it is already so prevalent, as to extend to the rudest settlements of the west. It is besides a day in which Christian enterprize is multiply- ing its efforts to evangelize the heathen, to plant churches in our own destitute regions, and to spread Bibles and Sabbath Schools, over the face of the whole land. In these efforts, ministers are properly expected to take, and generally do of choice take a very leading part ; and in the above circumstances combined, we perceive the true reason why they are more apt to break down, as to health, than other professional men. The preach- er enters on his sacred work, exhausted in health, by ten years of classical and professional study. The world around him is full of effort. Stir and activity characterize every department of business. Sanguine perhaps in the elasticity of youthful fer- vor, and urged onward by the cogent motives of his religion, he assigns himself a task to which no human powers are equal. Superadded to various and important pastoral duties, to all of which he is unaccustomed, is the original composition of ser- PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGAMS. 509 mons, a labor which has no parallel in any other literary pro- fession. This accumulation of official business presses him to extremity of mental effort. His digestive organs fail. He has no time at first, and soon no courage nor strength, to repair his wasting energies by exercise ; till hemorrhage of lungs finishes the work of prostration. Among the cases of fatal pulmonary disease, occurring of late so often, in our profession, a great proportion are superinduced in a train like that just described. The student is debilitated by sedentary habits ; the stomach becomes diseased ; digestion fails ; arterial action is imperfect ; the muscles lose their fulness and tone ; the face is pale, and the extremities cold, through defect not in the quantity, but in the proper distribution of the blood. That portion of this vital fluid which should go to the surface, is left by a sluggish circulation to oppress the lungs. Their fine vessels, thus distended and irritable, are ready to be ruptured by the influence of uncommon cold, or heat, or mus- cular action. The whole case is summed up in one sentence. The structure of the lungs is of course endangered by the ope- ration of causes, which at once increase their excitement, and diminish their strength. Do you ask how this train of calamities is to be avoided ? The answer is, by a single prescription, the first, second, and third ingredient of which are, — exercise. Do you ask ivhat ex- ercise?— That depends on circumstances. Let some judicious physician, or other friend on whom you can rely, aid by his counsels, the suggestions of your own experience. With such assistance ; and with the reserved privilege of often changing your choice, should the case require it, select that kind of ex- ercise which is best suited to your own present condition. In general I will say, that exercise should be adapted to brace the muscular system, especially the muscles of the chest and the gastric region ; that it should be, as far as practicable, in the open air ; and should be adapted to exhilarate the spirits. The re- quisites, in my opinion, can in no way be combined, by any fact titious system, like that of gymnastics, so well as by a judicious 65 510 PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. ])\an of manual ZaJor, agricultural or mechanical. Instead of this or in addition to it, walking is an exercise, that in some respects has advantages over any other ; and in certain states of the body, as in pulmonic affections, the saddle is unquestionably the best resort of the invalid. Whatever course is adopted, several things should be remem- bered ; — that more may be done, in one day, to confirm a sound constitution, than in one month to retrieve a broken one ; that exercise, to be efficacious, must be regulated not by fits and im- pulses, but by a vigorous system resolutely executed ; that its daily amount should be adjusted, not by an indolent temper, but by religious principle, according to the physical condition of the individual ; and that this should be, in all cases, not less than one hour, before each meal, equivalent to labor ; when the muscular power admits it, and when not, a longer time still, will be requisite io'c passive exercise. Without entering into more particulars, however, I repeat the statement, with confidence, that exercise in some systematic form, is to be relied on more than all other things, to shield the student's lungs, by sustaining the vigor of his constitution.* * Perhaps my own case may be regarded as proving, that neither correct theory nor correct practice, as to exercise, can be expected to prevent infirmity of kmgs. Certainly there are cases of snch infirm- ity, not to be controlled by ordinary means, and therefore not falling within ordinary rules. But the truth is, that my own experience is not less admonitory to young men, than my precepts ; as a brief sketch of this experience will show. I entered College at the age of fifteen. Those active habits, which had previously sustained my health, were gradually diminished during two and a half years of severe study, often continued to a late hour at night. Without one admonition or apprehension of my danger, my strength imperceptibly declined, till a single cold threatened to destroy my lungs. Six months' travelling enabled me to resume my studies. Thus admonished, I proceeded with more regularity and caution, till my health was confirmed by the saddle exercise, which I was called to take, as a candidate for the ministry. As a pastor, I soon becan)e so involved in labors, that I gradually forgot the j)ast, and jiresuming too much on the stock of strength I had acquired, devoted to my study every hoiu', that I dared to retrench from tny exercise and parochial duties. Upon emergen- cies I often sat at my table from twelve to Jifteen hours in a day ; and not nnfrequently read or wrote an hour or two after midnight. PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. 511 I can hardly dismiss this topic without saying, that a judi- cious regard to diet is indispensable in guarding from disease the vital organs of studious men. As I am not writing a medi- cal treatise, it woidd be absurd for me to go into minute direc- tions on this point. I refer you rather to a little work of Dr. Johnson, on Morbid Irritability of Stomach and Bowels, which combines, with medical science, more common sense, than any thing I have seen on this difficult subject. I will add tlie ex- pression of my own decided belief, that while the amount of exercise taken by students is generally too little by one half, the quantity of their food is too ^reaf, in about the same proportion. " Sat verbum sapienti." Secondly. To spare the vocal organs from all improper EFFORTS, is essential to their jjreservation. The most common mistake of this kind which I have notic- ed, is that of speaking on too high a key. By key, I mean that note of the voice which most frequently occurs ; or that which comes to your ear, when you hear one speak in another room, without distinguishing the words uttered. The right key for any speaker, is that which his own voice spontaneously adopts in animated conversation. To speak on a note much above this, fatigues the lungs, as every one knows, who has made the trial. The tendency to this mistake is not only unquestionable. Eight years after my ordination, during the accumulated labors and excitements, incident to a revival, in my congregation, my heahh failed, so tliat I was unable to preach for forty-six sabbatlis. By resorting again to the saddle, to mechanical labor at the work bench, to wood-sawing, to gardening, and at last to liolding the plough {instar omnium, in my case,) sufficient strength was gained to go on with my ministry ; but it was only the strength of an invalid. Now it was my calamity to have inherited a constitution predisposed to catarrh and dyspcpsy ; but it was my fault, (and a grievous one,) that I invited disease, by indulging love of study, without a more set- tled/)/a?i of daily exercise. I bless God, that for the last twenty years, a thorough reformation has enabled me, not indeed to retrieve former mistakes, but to live ; and by his gracious smiles on my imperfect la- bors, to live, as I hope, not wholly in vain. 512 PRKSERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. as a matter of fact, but is easily explained.* When we call to one at a distance, and perceive that he did not hear us, we re- peat the call in a higher note, and with more stress. When the voice has reached its full force on a given note, and is still in- sufficient, it spontaneously adopts a higher note, as the only remedy to which it can resort, and this indeed a useless one, if carried beyond a moderate extent. On this principle, a preach- er who apprehends that he shall not be heard, instinctively ele- vates his voice, and often does this at the expense of exchang- ing a flowing and diversified modulation, for an inveterate mo- notony. It is a serious infelicity that the fault from which weak lungs are most liable to be injured, is the one into which they are most likely to fall.f Let every speaker then, ascertain his own natural key. If he has not skill enough in musical sounds to do this, let him ask the aid of some friend. It is of small importance, (provided it * A high note fatigues ; — especially if that note is unnatural ; not be- cause expense of breath is increased, for it is otherwise when the pas- sage of the glottis is most contracted ; but because the effort to expel the breath is greater in a high note than a low one; as the labor of a bellows is increased, if the pipe is obstructed. t I knew a young minister, wiiose voice, naturally strong and clear, was impaired by the state of health with which he commenced preach- ing. Apprehension that he should not be well heard, led him to attempt a r.^medy for what was wauting in quantity of sound, by an elevation of pitch, totally inconsistent with variety, force, and ease in delivery. Speaking was labor ; especially on some public occasions, where the assembly was larger, and less orderly than usual ; in which cases, the sensation of fatigue was extreme. His friends were anx- ious, lest he should fail a premature sacrifice to his profession. When he was compelled at length to investigate the difficulty, the error was apparent. The low key of his voice, in conversation, and in music, had always been exchanged for a tenor key in the pulpit. He resolved to reform ; analyzed his voice by a pitch pi[)e ; — read daily a few sentences, on different notes iu the scale, aiming particularly to fill his voice on the loivest note, on which he could articulate distinctly. In a few months, he acquired a compass and management of voice, which was an im- portant relief to himself and hearers. [The reader should be informed, that though delicacy led the au- thor to use the third person in the foregoing narrative, he describes Jiis own case. M.] PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. 513 be not extreme,) whether this key is high or low. The latter has some advantages in point of dignity ; but the former is more audible. Among the first secular orators of Britain, Pitt's voice was a full tenor, and Fox's a treble. A considerable change in a man's key, is often practicable, and sometimes expedient ; — but a violent departure from it, to a higher note, for a given oc- casion, is always dangerous. Another case in which the vocal organs are often put to a hazardous effort, is the attempt of the preacher to accommo- date his delivery to those in a congregation, whose hearing is very defective. His danger in this case, arises not so much from the surly complaints of those who most unreasonably blame the speaker, when they should bow to an act of God ; as from the listening attitude, the earnest, imploring look, that denotes a heart " hungry for the bread of life." In some instances of the latter description, the loss of hearing makes a tender ap- peal to our sympathy. But in regard to this whole subject, the preacher's duty, so far as it can be prescribed, lies in narrow limits. All persons of this sort, who can be made to hear a sermon, by an advantageous position, by artificial helps, or by such increase of the speaker's voice, as shall not be hazardous to himself, nor inconvenient to others, are entitled to the kind- est regard. All whose hearing is slill more defective, instead of demanding a remedy for their own physical disability, in a preposterous loudness of the preacher's voice, should cheer- fully submit to a privation so calamitious, as they should submit to any other affliction from the hand of God. Especially if the church is spacious, and adjacent to noisy streets, as is often the fact in cities, any effort of voice beyond the above limits, may be fatal to the preacher's life. As I have here glanced at the location of churches upon noisy streets, 1 will just add the expression of my wonder at the little consideration, especially in cities, which has been given to this circumstance. It were easy to imagine, without any ex- perience, that the trampling of horses, and the rumbling of iron bound wheels, on a naked pavement, under the very windows 614 PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. of a church, in time of public worship, must be a great annoy- ance to a religious assembly. To say nothing of the objects passing without, to attract the eyes of inconsiderate hearers, the incessant noise must inevitably disturb the whole congregation, and, occasionally at least, drown the voice of the preacher. Yet some of the most elegant and expensive churches of the land, have been erected with almost no regard to the main object of every such edifice, namely the undisturbed worship of God, by an assembly convened to hear his gospel dispensed. The stun- ning noise of the streets, compels the speaker to put forth all the powers of his voice ; while unavoidably one half of his sermon is lost to the majority of his hearers. If the number of ministers could be reckoned up, whose lives have been made a sacrifice to the injudicious locations and structure of churches, it would be an appalling catalogue. The whimsicalness, or the parsimony of a congregation, or their more excusable reluctance to correct any such mistake made by their fathers, often perpet- uates the mischief. In such a case, the candidate for the min- istry should take the remedy into his own hands, and refuse to occupy a pulpit, that has proved the grave of his predecessors. Another abuse of the vocal organs, to be avoided as far as possible, is that of speaking in apartments so crowded as to de- stroy the vitality of the air. From modern experiments, conducted by the ablest profes- sors, what was matter of individual experience or opinion, on this subject, is now generally admitted as unquestionable truth. The writer whom I have before quoted, states that, " Persons in good health, in perfect quiet, with an open chest, breath about twenty times in a minute. Taking twenty cubic inches as the ordinary quantity of external air inhaled and exhaled, about twenty times in a minute, it will follow that a full-grown person respires twenty four thousand cubic inches in an hour^ Now the practical bearing of this statement on the case in hand, is the fact, that of the atmospheric air inhaled, all or nearly all the nitrogen is returned, while about one third of the oxygen is retained in the system, and at the same time, a considerable PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. 515 surplus of carbonic acid, generated in the system, is thrown out in each breath. The consequence is, that by being inhaled once, the air is so changed as to be unfit for respiration. Of course, in a close apartment, crowded with people, the whole body of air, breathed over and over, loses its essential proper- ties for the sustenance of animal life. To speak, for any length of time, in such circumstances, is to lay a burden on the lungs which they cannot bear. Any man, however robust, feels a suffocating oppression on his chest, the moment he steps into such a place from the open air. I said that speaking in such circumstances, should be avoid- ed, as far as jwssible. There are doubtless occasions in pasto- ral life, such as often occur in revivals of religion, which pre- scribe their own rules ; and in which a faithful minister will de- liberately choose to encounter the inconvenience and risk to which 1 have alluded. The last mistake against which I would caution young minis- ters, under this head, is that of putting the vocal organs to any considerable effort, while these organs are affected hy any seri- ous injury or disease. The particulars which fall under this di- vision I might greatly amplify, but I shall choose to be brief. Nothing is farther from my intention than to invade the prov- ince of the medical profession, so far as to make a book of prescriptions for sick men. Yet precautionary suggestions to his younger brethren, from one who has been taught in the school of severe experience, can never be out of season. Nor would I willingly do any thing towards raising up for the service of the church, a race of puny invalids, who must shrink from every blast of wind, and prosecute their professional labors, pressed down under a load of imaginary infirmities. One week of positive existence, in the full exercise of all a man's powers, is worth a year of that irresolution and imbecility, which attend all his efforts, in a state of prostrated health and spirits. To become over delicate, and over scrupulous as to exposure, is a great extreme, especially in a young man. But there are states of the animal system, in which exposure and effort of the vital 516 PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. organs is rashness. It is to cases of this sort, that the following suggestions are meant to apply ; while I would be distinctly un- derstood to urge, that ivhen any of the organs of voice are se- riously diseased, recourse should be had at once, to the best med- ical advice, that can be obtained. Sometimes one or more of the vocal organs is in a state of ivflammation, which for the time renders public speaking unsafe, if not impracticable. This, as every one knows, may result from a common cold, affecting the glottis, or the lining of the larynx or trachea, and producing such a temporary change in these organs, that they can perform their office very imperfectly, or not at all. Dr. Goode describes the case of an English Attorney, who having caught cold, was seized with a hoarse- ness, that in six days rendered him totally speechless ; in which state he continued, scarcely able to make the least articulate sound, for four years. At last, in a frightful dream, struggling with all his might to call for help, he actually did articulate aloud, and recovered his usual voice from that moment. The same author, speaking of a suppression of voice, from neglected hoarseness, says, " A catarrhal whisper is a frequent occurrence, and there can be few practitioners who have not met with examples of it. The voice is often injured from the commencement of the catarrh, as well in consequence of the inflan)matory affection of the membrane that lines the glottis, as of the increased secretion of mucus that issues from the interior of a great part of the trachea. This is a result of that weak- ness, which inflammatory action induces in the vocal organs, as a sequel, rather than a symptom of the inflammatory action itself."* * The above remarks on the vocal organs, were written at St. Au- gustine. Immediately afterwards, three cases of whispering voice came under n)y notice, which I will briefly describe. The first was that of a lady, who was residing in Augustine, on account of slender heaUh, in the spring of 1830. Though able to talce exercise abroad daily, her voice was reduced to a whisper, by a local affection of the throat, of which I learned no particulars, except that it came on with a neglected hoarseness. The second case was that of a gentleman, a lawyer, who was a fel- low passenger in the packet, in which T returned from Augustine to PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. 509 The tendency of using these organs, when their delicate membranes are inflamed, is instantly to increase the inflammation. This will often be apparent from merely conversing with a friend, for a few minutes, and that in a moderate voice ; of course the effort of public speaking in the same state of these organs, must be presumption. One of the most severe attacks of illness I ever experienced, was produced by delivering a single sermon, while laboring under a stubborn hoarseness. A Charleston. After observing for some time tliat he conversed only in a whisper, I enquired into the reasons, and had from him the follow- ing statement. " At a political meeting, in Johnstown, New York, I delivered an address, in a crowded, heated room, myself being ex- posed to the action of a large fire. I afterwards rode some miles, in a cold evening, and became very hoarse. Before the hoarseness had subsided, I was called to argue an interesting and protracted cause in court. This effort produced an inflammation of the chest, and this was followed with the loss of my voice, so that for many months I have spoken only in a whisper." Of this gentleman, I have no knowledge since that time. The third case is that of Rev. Mr. a minister of Connecticut, whom I met at Charleston the same month, and who could articulate only in a whisper. After my return home, I addressed a letter to him requesting a particular statement as to the loss of his voice. The fol- lowing is his answer. " In the month of October 1828, I took a severe cold, which fas- tened upon my lungs, and produced a violent cough, and hoarseness. While in that state, I continued to preach, though I spake with much difficulty for several sabbaths. After that, I spake with more ease, but my cough continued without any abatement through the fall and winter. Profuse night-sweats commenced about the fii-st of January 1829, which, with my cougii, continued to increase till about the first of Marci), at which time 1 sunk under their accumulated pressure. After that period, I was under the care of physicians, for several months ; and as warm weather advanced, my health gradually im- proved, till September, though still poor. Not being able to discharge the duties I owed to my people, I requested a dismission, which wag granted. Being requested to enter upon a Bible agency, for Hartford county, I ventured to undertake it, but was obliged to relinquish it, (after having visited twelve parishes) in consequence of a constantly increasing hoarseness of voice, which terminated in a whisper about the first of March 1830. This was attended with a great degree of weakness at my lungs, and a general prostration of strength ; also with a distressing soreness in my throat. In this condition, I placed my- self under the care of a skilful physician in the city of Hartford, until 1 started for the South, which was on the 5th of last April. — You saw 65 510 PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. partial and harmless affection of this sort, which would pass off in a few days, if properly treated, may be transformed by a little indiscretion, into a fixed and protracted disease of the vital parts. Many valuable ministers of my acquaintance, have been disabled for months, and others permanently cut off from use- fulness or life, by one such mistake as I am considering. I am aware that a good minister often has strong inducements to forget himself, and to trespass on the most obvious principles, in the neglect of his health. But why should he sacrifice years of useful labor, to the ill-judged effort of an hour ? Every minis- ter is the guardian of his own life ; and the only proper judge as to his own physical capabilities. Suppose that his health is good, except that he is the subject of a severe hoarseness. He is urged to preach for some father in the ministry, whom he respects, and to whom perhaps, he may be under many person- al obligations. He is told that his hoarseness will subside ; that speaking is good for it ; — he is importuned to make the trial this once, by an array of motives that strongly appeal to his feelings. What shall he do? — Let him re/t(se to preach; and if still urged, let him again promptly and unequivocally refuse. I give the same answer, where a man is strongly urged by circumstances, to preach, even in his own pulpit, when he is physically unable. There is one general principle, which I would fix irreversibly, to shield a young man from the unreason- able, I had almost said, shameless importunities, which he is liable to meet with from older ministers. Let him hold himself ready to preach, whenever regularly called to it, and that with- out being urged. But if, in his oion judgment, which in this case he must follow, he cannot preach without serious danger to his health, let him yield to no importunity. me the day I arrived in Charleston, and recollect the state I was in at that time ; and at the time I left that place on my return to the North. About the first of July I began to speak loud, in a low, hoarse tone of voice. Since that, my voice has been very gradually improving, and I am now able to lead in family devotion. — My prayers, however, are uttered with a low tone of voice, and are very concise. What effect the cold weather will have upon me, J am unable to predict. I shall tremble at its approach." PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. 511 But the vocal organs are subject to other injuries besides ca- tarrhal inflammation of their membranes. It has been known from the infancy of anatomy, that by certain injuries to the nerves of the trachea, the noisiest animals are immediately struck dumb. Galen produces the case of two boys, in whom the loss of voice was occasioned by the blunder of surgeons, who cut these nerves in extracting tumors from the neck. " The voice has frequently been injured by straining the lig- aments, and the minute muscles which move the parts of the glottis on each other ; in elevating the voice to a high pitch in public addresses, or in striving at a note in singing, which the voice will not reach. So Pliny tells us that Gracchus, during a violent exertion in speaking, had his voice suddenly sink to a feminine treble. — A sudden and overwhelming emotion of the mind, will sometimes totally stifle the voice, or sink it to an almost inaudible whisper. Rest and tranquillity will usually restore it in a short time ; but in some instances the effect has been per- manent.— We sometimes meet with a debility in the organs of the voice, which reduces it to a whisper, without being able to ascribe it to any particular cause. This is often temporary, but in some instances, it has been more or less permanent, or intermissive."* All that remains to be said on the foregoing topics is, that whenever the preacher finds his vocal organs affected with any serious injury or disability, he should stop speaking, I mean pub- lic speaking ; and even in conversation, he should use his voice cautiously, till the difficulty subsides. Thirdly, to preserve the vocal organs, certain habits, which are often found connected with public speaking, should be avoided. Most of these need only be mentioned, with but little en- largement. 1 . Bad attitudes of writing. I have already said that the failure of the preacher's lungs, is more frequently owing to his * Dr. Goode. 512 PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. habits as a student, than to his efforts in public speaking. This latter exercise, indeed, when conducted with tolerable judgment, doubtless invigorates the constitution. The danger to which 1 now refer, is such a posture of study as will obstruct the vital functions, by producing a contraction of the chest. More than any other professional men, preachers, who write out their ser- mons, are exposed to this danger. And the developement of the mischief is the more certain, and the more serious in after life, when the youthful habits of the study table have been such as to diminish the cavity of the chest, and oppress the vital or- gans. This is the tendency of any posture or external pres- sure, while the bones of the chest are in a flexible and forming state, by which the ribs or sternum lose their proper form, and become incurvated, without the power of sufficient expansion. The celebrated Dr. Tissot says that, the attitude of a man sit- ting at study, interrupts the circulation in the lower extremities, which in process of time, must necessarily suffer from this cir- cumstance ; the bending of the body constrains the abdominal viscera, disturbs their functions, and disorders the diges- tive powers. The standing desk is the remedy most common- ly recommended in this case, and is doubtless a good one, to those who have animal vigor to sustain the exhaustion it occa- sions. To myself the only remedy has been in taking care to sit upright, and to avoid a contact of the chest with any hard substance. 2. Late preparation for the pulpit, is another of those habits, by which the lungs are exposed to serious hazard. When the labor of conducting two or three religious services on a Sabbath, succeeds an interval of rest and relaxation, the preacher of tol- erable vital strength sustains it without inconvenience. But when the fatigue of long continued public speaking is immedi- ately superadded to such exhaustion of vital power, as results from intense and protracted study, the effort is always danger- ous, and often fatal to the lungs. Other things being equal, the preacher who gives himself one entire day of remission, between the labors of the study and the pulpit, is much wiser than he PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. 613 who is accustomed to push his preparation of sermons late into Saturday night, or even into the Sabbath, till the very hour of public service. And here I will say once for all, as to late stud- ies at night, especially on Saturday night, that whatever a man may accomplish by this means, is no gain, if he loses his eyes, his health, and his senses, in the process. 3. Full meals before preaching. These, by distending the stomach and intestines, hinder the expansion of the lungs ; and therefore Wright, in his Philosophy of Elocution, advises, that previous to the exertion of public speaking, such articles of food should be selected, as contain the greatest portion of nutriment in the smallest bulk. On the contrary, others object to the stimulating quality of such aliments, and prefer those denomin- ated light. Without going into detail, experience seems to en- join two precautions ; that the preacher's meal before spe-aking, be such in quantity as not greatly to distend the stomach ; and that both in quantity and kind, it be such as not to produce a hurried circulation of the blood, and of course, in connexion with public speaking, a hazardous determination to the lungs. 4. Use of stimulating liquors, immediately before or after speaking. The prohibition of such drinks to men of the sacred profession, in the Jewish church, rested on broader grounds than the one I am considering ; and so does the spirit of that prohibition to men of the same profession, in all ages. That a minister of the gospel should impair his health and reason by " strong drink," is a deviation from all Christian propriety, so manifest and monstrous, as to deserve the reprobation of all respectable men. The use of stimulants, however, immediate- ly after speaking, has been very general, even among the most temperate ministers, till the custom was so nearly abolished, by the late revolution of public sentiment, respecting the use of spirits and wine. Nothing indeed would be more preposterous, as to the safety of the lungs, when already excited to the full pitch of endurance, by loud and continued speaking, than to superadd the feverish stimulus of intoxicating drinks. Finally; while the lungs are still heated with the effort of 514 PRESERVATION OF THE VOCAL ORGANS. speaking, exposure to currents of cold air should be avoided. The bare mention of this precaution is all that the case requires. In concluding these admonitory suggestions, Gentlemen, I must rely upon your good sense, to make the distinction be- tween those which are applicable to invalids only, and those which apply also to men in health. There is such a thing as making every attention to the structure and preservation of our own vital organs, minister only to a morbid timidity and delicacy of temperament, that is fatal to Christian efficiency, and manli- ness of character. The church, at this day, calls for ministers and missionaries, not rendered effeminate by habits of self-in- dulgence; not disabled for duty by every trifling inconvenience as to food or accommodations. On the contrary, there is a heed- less and useless exposure of the vocal organs, which the young preacher may learn to avoid, without any diminution of his energies ; and which he is bound to avoid by a reasonable re- gard to his own usefulness. It is a calamity to the church, that her hesi ministers are most likely to sink under premature in- firmity, by an ill-judged expenditure of vital power, in the dis- charge of their duties. To render some aid in calling a proper attention to this subject, on which almost nothing hitherto has been written, I have ventured to express my own thoughts with a particularity of remark, which others may think unnecessarily extended. NOTE. After these Lectures on the Vocal Organs were written, I observed a literary notice of a work by an English physician, published in 1829, in which the writer professes to exhibit a "definite plan for re- moving that peculiar affection of the throat to which Clergymen and other public speakers are liable." Having procured the work from London, and read with attention the part of it relating to this subject, I subjoin here a brief view of its chief remarks. The author speaks of this affection as one that has, of late years, greatly distressed many of the English Clergy and dissenting ministers. " The cause of this malady," he says, "is evidently a local debility, induced by too great use of the windpipe in speaking." His indications of treatment are twofold, — to restore the general iiealth, when impaired; — and to soothe and invigorate the diseased parts. His general remedies I shall not notice, being much the same which I suppose any intelligent physician would prescribe. His remedies for the local malady are, 1. Rest. The cause of tlf% irritation, namely, public spe'aking, must be discontinued, or there is no reasonable hope of relief. 2. Friction ; and that continued, at least twice daily, for ten or fif- teen minutes ; the brush or hand being dipped in cold water, 3. Avoid blood-letting, except in cases of active inflammation. Even leeches and cupping, applied to the throat, in this complaint, are improper where there is only a chronic kind of inflammatory action. 4. Occasional blisters on the throat or back of the neck, may be useful. The author differs probably from most physicians m the third di- rection ; but my own experience accords with his opinion. In the others he is doubtless right. Rest, friction, cold ablution, gargling with cold water, will probably in most cases be sufficient, when the complaint is slight. If it is at all serious, the external application of mustard has been more efficacious with me, than all other remedies. LECTURES ON STYLE. LECTURE I. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. REASONS WHY A THOROUGH KNOW- LEDGE OF HIS OWN LANGUAGE IS INDISPENSABLE TO A PREACHER. Harris, in his Hermes, judiciously remarks, " Nothing Is more absurd than the common notion that instruction is to be poured into the mind, Uke water into a cistern, which passively waits to receive all that comes. The growth of knowledge is like the growth of fruit ; however external causes may, in some degree cooperate ; the internal vigor of the tree must ripen the jui- ces to their just maturity." Perhaps this remark is not so applicable to any other system of instruction, as to that which is conducted by lectures. The design of these is not so much to bring the student a fund of knowledge, already prepared for use, as to point him to such subjects and sources of investigation, as may excite and direct the efforts of his own understanding. Invention would claim the first place in the plan of these Lec- tures, as sketched in the statutes of the Seminary ; but I shall omit the consideration of this for the present. In passing, how- ever, it may be proper to remark that sterility of genius, where- ever it exists, is not to be cured by rhetoric. This is a case where the elaborate prescriptions, even of Cicero and Quinctil- ian, are of little avail. Dr. Witherspoon observes, " Most men find much more difficulty in selecting what is proper, than in inventing something that seems to be tolerable. There are 67 520 A THOROUGH KNOWLEDGE OF HIS OWN LANGUAGE some, I confess, whom their own stupidity or that of their relations, forces to attempt pubHc speaking, who are not able to bring out any thing, either good or bad." He adds, " I have known some examples of ministers, whose principal defect was mere barrenness of invention. This is exceedingly rare ; because far the greatest number of bad speakers have enough to say, such as it is, and generally, the more absurd and incoherent, the great- er the abundance." Now it is a perfectly plain case, that a man's mental resour- ces will be slender, just in proportion as he neglects to acquire habits of thinking, and to cultivate his powers of invention. For this reason, the preacher, if he is accustomed to borrow his schemes of sermons, from his brethren or his books ; especially, if accustonded to borrow his serwons, because he distrusts his own faculties, or is too slothful to use them; has very little pros- pect of comfort or success in his work. Two other topics in my plan, viz. General Grammar, and the History of the English Language, would next, in order, come under consideration ; but these, I apprehend should, for the present, give place to others of greater practical utility. The object of this Lecture, is to suggest the reasons, why a thorough Jcnoiuledge of his own language, is indispensable to a preacher. 1. This is of great imprortance to him as a public speaker. It seems too evident to require argument, that a public speaker ought to understand the language in which he speaks ; because it is to be supposed that his hearers, generally, understand no other. The preacher of this country, (with few exceptions) has no medium of communicating instruction, except the English tongue. He may replenish his own mind from the resources of antiquity ; he may gather up stores of knowledge from the study of dead languages, but he can use this knowledge, for the instruc- tion of others, only in the current language of common people. He cannot preach in Greek ; he cannot pray in Greek, nor Latin, because his hearers are not Greeks nor Romans. A- niong all the strange perversions to which Christianity has been INDISPENSABLE TO A PREACHER. 527 subjected, this is truly one of the most absurd, that men should ever have been required to worship their Maker, in an unknown tongue. However a partial knowledge of his own language may be sufficient to a preacher for all the common purposes of life, it is not sufficient for the proper discharge of his official duties. He is a teacher. He is to give instruction to immortal beings on the most momentous subjects. This instruction he must communicate in ti;orc^5; not only in words which they under- stand, but which are adapted to convey his meaning, clearly, and impressively. He must choose his words with judgment, or he cannot be perspicuous and forcible. He must choose them from an ample store, or he cannot be copious and eloquent. He cannot do justice to his hearers and his subject, then, without being master of the language in which he speaks. Unquestion- ably skill in foreign languages is essential to the preacher ; be- cause it gives him access to stores of knowledge, from which he, above all men, should not be excluded; because it gives him ac- cess to the best standards of style ; because the radical princi- ples of all languages are the same ; and because this general skill in languages implies so much taste and reading, as almost necessarily ensures a good acquaintance with his own language. Still a man may be tolerably acquainted with dead languages, and yet be essentially deficient in that knowledge of his own, which is requisite to a public speaker. But it may be said, the greater part of congregations consist chiefly, and not a few wholly of plain, illiterate people. Being no judges of language, all they require or need, is the communication of interesting truths, without exact regard to words. What then ? Because the choice of words claims not the preacher's ^rsi attention, does it follow that it is a matter of entire indifference? Or that the plain language, in which it is necessary to address plain hearers, may with propriety, or must of course, be incorrect ? Tiiat simplicity is by no means incon- sistent with purity, or with elegance, I shall have occasion to show hereafter. But suppose that the majority of a man's 528 A THOROUGH KNOWLEDGE OF HIS OWN LANGUAGE hearers are indifferent about grammatical blunders, or, if you please, do not perceive them ; is it wise in him to contract such habits of inaccuracy, as not to perceive them himself^ Would his sermons be less intelligible, or in any respect less profitable to these illiterate hearers, by being free from such blunders ? If not, doubtless his duty requires him to avoid them. Should he ascend the pulpit in a rustic dress, no part of his hearers would respect him the more for it, and many of them would be disgusted. In every congregation there are hearers of some taste, who will hardly excuse coarse and incorrect language in a preacher, any more than they would excuse him for appear- ing, on the Sabbath, in the apparel of a clown. The opinion of Dr. Campbell on this point deserves to be well considered. "Vulgarity of language," says he, " does inexpressible injury to the thought conveyed under it, how just and important soever it may be. You will say that this is all the effect of mere pre- judice in the hearers, consequently unreasonable, and not to be regarded. Be it that this is prejudice in the hearers, and there- fore unreasonable. It doth not follow that the speaker ought to pay no regard to it. It is the business of the orator to ac- commodate himself to men, such as he sees they are, not such as he imagines they should be. But, upon impartial examina- tion, the thing perhaps will not be found so unreasonable as, at first sight, it may appear. — That the thought may enter deeply into the mind of the reader or hearer, there is need of all the assistance possible from the expression. Little progress can it be expected, then, that the former shall make, if there be any thing in the latter, which serves to divert the attention from it. And this effect at least, of diverting the attention, even mere grammatic blunders, with those who are capable of discerning them, are but too apt to produce." 2. If the justice of these thoughts is admitted, as applicable to him who speaks, much more must it be admitted as applica- ble to him who ivrites for the public. To this service every preacher is liable, in some form, to be called. "It was ex- tremely well said," remarks the author just quoted, "by a very INDISPENSABLE TO A PREACHER. 629 popular preacher, who when consulted by a friend that had a mind to publish, whether he thought it befitting a writer on reli- gion, to attend to such little matters as grammatical correctness; answered, * By all means. It is much better to write so as to make a critic turn Ciiristian, than so as to make a Christian turn critic' " Let it be remembered then, by every Theologi- cal Student, that he who allows himself to violate the settled principles of his native tongue, even in desultory speaking, will blunder with his pen, from the mere force of habit. And any momentary effort to rescue himself from this reproach, for a special occasion, will be fruitless, because the very fact that he blunders without knowing it, disqualifies him to be a critic on himself. His only alternative in this case, is, to save his reputa- tion for prudence, by committing his manuscript to the fire ; or to make himself ridiculous, by submitting it to a censorship, where no apology will be admitted for the negligence of the writer. 3. The best writers on the study of eloquence, have agreed that it ought to begin with the principles of grammar. With- out a thorough knowledge of these, no one can attain the high- er properties of elocution. The man who is expected to speak in the English language, ought to take care that the words he uses belong to the language ; that they are employed according to the English idiom, and in the sense assigned to them by the best writers. This extensive knowledge of the language, is to be attained only by familiar acquaintance with its standard au- thors. Accordingly Quinctilian affirms that propriety and copi- ousness of diction, depend primarily on skill m grammar. " Wherefore, he says, they are not to be regarded, who treat this art as though it were dry and trifling. For unless the fu- ture orator, faithfully lays his foundation here, whatever is built upon it will fall to the ground. Grammar is the only one of all our studies, that has in it, more profit than ostentation. Let no one then, he adds, despise the elements of this art; not because it is a great thing to distinguish consonants from vowels, and semi-vowels from mutes ; but because in entering into the prin- 530 REMARKS ON ENGLISH ORTHOGRAPHY. ciples of language, we acquire habits of accurate discrimination, adapted not only to sharpen the genius of youth, but to exercise the highest powers of erudition and science." In this connexion, it may be useful to offer a few remarks on English Orthography. That this has been so unsettled, has been the reproach of our language. In its infancy, while new dialects were often intro- duced by the changes of war, there was no uniformity of spell- ing, even in the pages of the same author. To remove this deformity. Sir Thomas Smith, Queen Elizabeth's Secretary of State, proposed to adjust the spelling to the pronunciation, by rejecting all superfluous letters. Similar attempts were after- wards successively made by Dr. Gill, Master of St. Paul's school, London, by Charles Butler, and by the poet Milton. Johnson says, " These reformers measure by a shadow, or take that for a standard which is changing, while they apply it." Cer- tainly if the body and substance of a language, as it is found in books, must follow the ephemeral modes of pronunciation, there is an end of all stability. A book written now will hardly be intelligible in the next century ; and a book pubHshed this year in Louisiana, would need a glossary to render it intelligible, even now, to common people in Massachusetts. Besides, this system would confound and cut up all our etymologies, and de- stroy the ties by which we trace our affinity to the great family of languages, dead and living. In later times, some respectable men have attempted silently to introduce a reformed orthography, by spelling their own wri- tings in their own way. Lardner, Benson, Elphinstone, and Franklin successively failed in these attempts. Verbs, which in Chaucer's time, ended in en, exchanged this termination for eth, and this again for es : thus loven became loveth, and then loves. " This latter change," Mr. Addison remarks, " has wonderfully multiplied a letter, which was before too frequent, and added to that hissing in our language, which is taken so much notice of by foreigners." So, as we have turned the eth of our ancestors into s, — we make this single let- REMARKS ON ENGLISH ORTHOGRAPHY. 631 ter do the office of a whole word, in the possessive case of nouns, and represent the his and her of our forefathers. John's book, — for John, his book. By a similar transformation, en and ed are changed into t. The participle gotten has become got — bended, builded, creeped, gilded, have hecomebent, built, crept, gilt. Though the labor of multitudes had proved incompetent to arrest the fluctuation of our orthography, the work has been nearly accomplished by one man. Since the publication of Johnson's Dictionary, it has been generally regarded as our best standard. Still, correct scholars differ in a few words. One omits, and another inserts the u, in honor, labor. One uses s, and another c, in expense, defence. One adds, and an- other rejects k, in public, politic. But the words are really few, in which there is not an established orthography. I will suggest a few reasons why this subject deserves the at- tention of every literary man. In the j^rs^ place, — though correct spelling is commonly the result of early habit, and is rarely acqmired to any considerable perfection, if not acquired in childhood ; yet the want of it is supposed to indicate some dtfect in a man's mind ; at least, it raises a suspicion as to the accuracy of his thoughts, in greater matters. Especially when he mingles in public life, if he can- not send a page to the press, nor write a letter of business, without blunders in orthography, it is with difficulty, we per- suade ourselves that he is a scholar in any thing.* In the second place, — Bad spelling often leads to bad enunci- ation. When you hear the first n in government, omitted in speaking, it is commonly because the speaker has been accus- tomed to omit that letter in writing the word. A young preach- er of good sense, in writing the viox^ foliage, habitually placed the i before the I. The consequence was that he mispronoun- ced the word, and spoke of '' the beautiful /oiV-or^e of the trees." In the third place, — Bad spelling perverts the sense of words. Example : — eminent, mminent, im/nanent, are easily and often * See Witherspoon 3. p. 491. 632 A THOROUGH KNOWLEDGE OF HIS OWN LANGUAGE confounded in writing. The second differs from the first only in two letters, and from the third, only in one ; while the sense of the first is high ; of the second impending ; of the third inherent. Yet the preacher who never learned to spell, tells you of an imminent saint, of eminent danger &.c. 1 add one more example taken from the Christian Observer, which may be regarded as an extreme case. " A preacher, in discoursing on that text, write, blessed are the dead that die in the Lord, made this observation, " There is a right blessed- ness, and a wrong blessedness, and departed saints are right blessed, that is, truly blessed." A striking proof, subjoins the Christian Observer, how desirable it is, that public teachers should be able not only to read and write, but also to spell." To resume the main subject : — It would be directly to my purpose, to show, how much an extensive knowledge of the language which we use, promotes facility and despatch in writing ; and how important such a hab- it of despatch is to a minister, who from the variety and magni- tude of his other duties, is often called to write much in a little time. It would be equally to my purpose, to trace on a higher scale than orthography, the principles of that connexion which confessedly exists, betwixt writing badly, and speaking badly ; and to show how a nice perception of the grammatical structure of sentences, tends to produce a correct and energetic delivery. It must suffice just to hint these considerations here ; but an- other point perhaps deserves a few more particular remarks. 4. There is a sort of literary patriotism, which good men, as well as others, may be supposed to feel on this subject. Con- sisently with the highest obligations of religion, we may desire to see the language of our country, and of our ancestors, render- ed as perfect as possible. Strange as it may seem, this princi- ple was much stronger in its influence among the ancients, than with us. Plato, who is called the father of Grammar, and Aristotle, who reduced it to a regular science, were succeeded by a long list of the first men in Greece, who labored with great industry, to perfect their native tongue. The case was the INDISPENSABLE TO A PREACHER. 533 same at Rome. The study of grammar was introduced into that city by Crates a Greek ambassador, who had ahvays made this his principal occupation ; having written nine books of criticism upon Homer. The purity and beauty of the Latin tongue, in the Augustan age, and the height to which elegance was carried at that period, have been the admiration of subse- quent ages. But the rapid progress of that language towards perfection, in that short period, almost ceases to be a subject of wonder, when we see such men as Scipio, and Laelius and Cicero, and Caesar, the greatest men of their age, and the two last among the greatest men of any age, in the midst of their vast employments, still combining their efforts for the improve- ment of their own language. Take one fact from Cicero's Epistles to Atticus. These two men it seems had agreed to meet, and hear Tyrannion read a book which he had composed. Atticus, in his zeal, having heard the book, without waiting for his friend, was thus reproved by Cicero : " What, did I several times refuse to hear that book because you was absent ; and would you not stay to share that pleasure with me ? But I for- give you, because of the admiration you express of it." What was that book, which could give so much pleasure to such illus- trious men? It was a treatise on grammar, particularly on prosody. "I admit, says Quinctilian, (with these great exam- ples in his eye,) I admit that in grammatical researches, extreme and trivial minuteness, and that only, may injure genius. Was Tully less an orator, because he loved this art so greatly him- self;— or because, in his letters, he charged his son so strictly to perfect himself in the propriety of language .'' Did Caesar's books on analogy abate the vigor of his style .'' or was Messala less splendid, because he published whole volumes, not only on single words, but on letters .'' " We may add now, was Quinctilian himself less worthy of his great fame as a master of eloquence, because he occupied thirty five pages of his Institutes upon the orthography and accent of the Latin tongue } Respectable examples, of the same sort, may be mentioned in modern times. Bishop Sprat, in his History of the Englisli 68 534 A THOROUGH KNOWLEDGE OF HIS OWN LANGUAGE ETC. Royal Society, says, " Of late, in many parts of Europe, gentlemen have formed themselves into academies, chiefly for the purpose of perfecting the language of their own country." Among these societies, so honorably alluded to by the prelate, the Academy at Paris became conspicuous by its efforts and success. And no man, surely, need feel himself degraded by attention to an object, which excited so deep an interest in the elegant minds, and claimed so great a share in the literary labors of such men as Fenelon, Addison, and Johnson. The result of the whole is this ; for a minute accuracy in speaking and writing his own language, a preacher deserves no honor ; but for a want of it, he deserves reproach. W-^M LECTURE II. PRELIMINARY REMARK. GRAMMATICAL PURITY; WHAT DOES IT IMPLY? WHAT IS THE LAW OF LANGUAGE? As a preliminary remark, it may be proper here to say, that the whole plan of these Lectures rests on the broad canon, that the pen and the tongue are the grand instruments of oratory. Thought must employ language as its vehicle, and this vehicle is what we mean by style. This embraces two general branch- es ; (1.) Words, which are the primary materials of style. (2.) The combination of words in sentences, including construction and arrangement, or what we mean by composition. The former is the province of Grammar ; the latter, both of Gram- mar and Rhetoric. To the FIRST of these branches, viz. words, as the primary materials of style ; I shall devote this and the following lecture. The observations to be made in this lecture, fall under the general head oi grammatical purity. Purity implies, 1. That the words and phrases used, JeZong* to the language in which we speak or write. If our words convey no meaning, or a false one, to those whom we address, we speak to no good purpose. The man whom you would convince or move, must first understand you : and to make him understand you, the words which you use, must be those to which he is accustomed. You violate the principles of purity then, if you use words that are obsolete. Many words which are not so far obsolete as 53G WHAT DOES PURITY IMPLY ? to have lost their signification, are not entitled to a place in good Avriting. If an intelligent reader can guess at the meaning of som- nolent, displicency , and tractation, in the style of Bates ; or of W;g"- som'e, overcomable, and obliviousness in Latimer, no intelligent wri- ter will use these words now, as they are no longer pure English. Purity may be violated also by the introduction of foreign words. This takes place chiefly from three causes ; conquest, commerce, and affectation. Conquest operates in this case with irresistible power. It is not to be expected that the language of a people can remain unchanged, amidst the operation of causes which transform their institutions and habits. The in- fluence of commerce, though less violent, and less apparent ^han that of conquest, is not less efficacious. As a single man, by intercourse with strangers, insensibly mingles their language with his own, so a commercial people will, almost of course, incorporate into their customary speech, words appropriated to the business and commodities of other countries. Perhaps the affectation of learning, is as great a source of innovation, as either of those just mentioned. No sound objection certainly can be made against enriching the English tongue, by adopting good words from foreign languages, when such words are need- ed. But we gain nothing by admitting such words into our language, in cases where we have already words enough, equiva- lent in sense, and in all respects as good as those we are called upon to adopt. 2. Purity implies, that we use words and phrases according to the idiom of the language in which we speak. This distinction is of no small importance in promoting accu- racy of style. Perhaps in forming a sentence, every woi-d we employ belongs -to our native tongue ; but it does not follow, that the sentence is pure English. Our Translation of the Bi- ble, which in general perhaps, may be considered the best stan- dard of pure English, occasionally departs from our own idiom. This I grant it ought sometimes to do, in conformity to the He- brew and Greek, because, it would otherwise be impossible in many instances, to exhibit the original import of a passage. WHAT DOES PUBITY IMPLY ? 637 But there was no such reason for adopting the French idiom, as in this case ; " What went ye out, for to see ?"* No single cause operates so powerfully to produce this defect, which grammarians call solecism, as the translating of foreign books into our own tongue. Johnson says " translation is the pest of speech. He that has long cultivated another language, will find its words and combinations crowd upon his memory ; and haste, and negligence, refinement and affectation will ob- trude borrowed expressions. No book was ever turned from one language into another, without imparting something of its native idiom. This is the most mischievous and comprehensive innovation. Single words may enter by thousands, and the fabric of the tongue coatinue the same ; but new phraseology changes much at once ; it alters not the single stones of the building, but the order of the columns." He adds, — if litera- ry men would cultivate our style, " let them instead of com- piling grammars and dictionaries, endeavor, with all their in- fluence, to stop the license of translators, whose idleness and ignorance, if it be suffered to proceed, will reduce us to babble a dialect of France. "f 3. Purity implies that we use words in their customary sense. This we may fail of doing, though we violate no rule of * Tliat which was only an inadvertence with the translators of the Bible, has been a matter of design with many other writers. The af- fectation of conformity to the French language, has ahnost done away that nice discrimination, which belonged to one class of our pronouns. The distributive eac/(, which was formerly restricted to o?ie of two, now means one of any number ; and cither is often applied in the same man- ner ; "the United States, or either of them." In the same way we give up the discrimination of our local adverbs, here, there, ivhere ; with their correspondents, hither, hence, and lohence ; and say, " Where is the man gone ? When will he come here ? From ivhence did he come ?" The latter phrase, though evidently pleonastic, is becoming established by the authority of good writers. In imitation of the French recip- rocal verbs we do violence to our own idiom, by placing an objective case after a neuter verb. "He repented him of tiie sin." — " Go, fleo thee away." t See Preface to Dictionary. 538 WHAT DOES PURITY IMPLY ? etymology, or of syntax. To make this evident a few examples may be necessary. A writer in the Spectator says, "If I was put to define modesty, I would call it the reflection of an in- genious mind, when a man has committed an action, for which he censures himself." This word ingenious respects an in- tellectual quality merely, whereas the writer meant to express a moral quality, denoted by another word — ingenuous. A similar defect appears in the following sentence, extracted from Blair's Ijectures. " Sassia pushed on Oppianicus, to the des- truction of her son, whom she had long hated, as one who was consdoMs of her crimes." Conscious is here used improperly, for knowledge derived from external evidence : whereas it truly denotes, perception of one's own mental exercises. No man is conscious of another's crimes. The past tense and participle of the verb to set, are often carelessly used as though derived from the verb to sit. Hence the phrases, "he sat out on his journey ;" — " the sun sat;" and " the sitting sun," are not confined to the vulgar. A British prime minister, of modern times, said in Parlia- ment,— " We have but tioo alternatives, war, or armed pre- paration for defence." Now, what is an alternative ? It is a choice betwixt two things, so that if one be taken, the other must be rejected. Yet Englishmen, it seems, claim the liberty to make two alternatives, and of two things, where they allow the Americans to make but one. The educated men of a country are the constituted guardians of its literature. On its Christian scholars, and especially its ministers, devolves the charge of preserving its language from declension. For reasons which have been briefly stated, it is especially incumbent on them, to write and speak correctly, a language which is the chief instrument of their official inter- course with men, and which must derive its character more from their influence, than from that of all others. The remarks and exemplifications, which I am now to give you, gentlemen, have no other object, than to aid in forming your habits as writers and speakers, now, while the forming of these habits WHAT IS THE LAW OF LANGUAGE ? 639 can properly receive more attention, than after you enter on the great, and engrossing business of your sacred profession. We proceed now to inquire, I. By what general principles shall we determine when we write or speak our own tongue with purity and propriety !■ Some respectable men have maintained that the law on this subject, is to be taken from Etymology. Home Tooke may, perhaps, be considered as the champion of this theory. Bui is the theory correct? Let us take one of the most celebrated examples, from his " Diversions of Purley," introduced by the great topic of his thoughts, as a politician," "the Rights of man." — right, he says, is no other than rec- tum (regitum) the past participle of the Latin verb regere.^^ " Just is the past participle ofjufterc." " A RIGHT conduct, is that which is ordered." " A RIGHT line is that which is ordered, or directed, the short- est between two points." " A RIGHT and just action is such a one as is ordered and commanded." " A JUST man is such as he is commanded to be." Observe now how consistent the application of this theory is, with common sense. *' It appears to me, he says, highly im- proper to say that God has a paoHT in any case : as it is also to say that God is just : for nothing is ordered, directed, or com- manded concerning God." I wish to introduce no more of these extravagant speculations, than may serve to exhibit the principle assumed, that etymology is the standard of language. That this principle is essentially incorrect, may appear from the following considerations. 1. Many words in passing from one language to another, drop their original signification for a new one. The customs of men are continually changing ; and of course words of local and appropriate meaning, lose that meaning when the thing which they denoted, ceases to exist. Our En- glish word anthem, we now use for an elevated holy song, with- out reference to the ancient custom of singing in alternate parts. 540 WHAT IS THE LAW OF LANGUAGE? from which the name, avrt-vfivog was derived. On the princi- ples of Tooke, our word tragedy now signifies a goat song, be- ing derived from the Greek xQayog a goat, and thence TQayizog, a song performed while the goat stood at the altar of the god Dionysius, to be sacrificed. Dr. Campbell in his Dissertations, shows that the words com- ic, derived from the Greek ; pagan, derived from the Latin ; and villain in English, had all, the same original sense, denoting 2L farmer or villager. Yet these words so nearly related in ety- mology, have for ages lost all affinity to each other ; the first denoting a theatrical representation, the second an idolater, and the third a base man. Many of our words spring directly from ancient systems of divination. Sinister, originally signified, on the left hand ; dis- aster, evil conjunction of stars ; dismal, (dies malus) an unfor- tunate day. Yet who resorts to heathen auguries to determine the present meaning of such words ? Common men now speak intelligibly, of disasters and dismal events, without knowing any thing of ancient astrology. From the ancient form of rolled manuscripts came the word volumen, and our English word volume, which as applied to a modern book, retains nothing of its etymological sense. And the fact that the word was thus derived, is known to but few by whom it is used. The same remark applies to the common phrase, " ut supra" — the above arguments, as equivalent to the preceding arguments. The word Literati, was derived from an ancient mode of punishment, similar to one now practised in different countries, where an adulterer e. g. is branded with the letter A. — a blasphemer, with the letter B, &:c. Among the Romans, a criminal, thus publicly branded with some letter, as a mark of infamy, on his forehead or hand, was called literatus. In some of the early British statutes this old Roman use of the word literati appears, as nearly equivalent to banditti. Exam- ple ; — in the time of Henry Vll, " Mischievous deeds had been boldly committed by divers lettered persons," — that is, men who carried the ignominious brand of public justice. WHAT IS THE LAW OF LANGUAGE ? 541 One more example under this head. During the low state of learning in the dark ages, even kings were often too illiter- ate to write their names. Hence charters and other public pa- pers were ratified by making the sign of the cross. In this way, the verb to sign acquired the same meaning as, to subscribe ; a meaning, you know, to which there was no allusion in its Latin root.* 2. A still more powerful cause of mutation in the sense of words, is that the primary and literal sense, is supplanted by one that \s figurative. This principle is so inwrought into the very structure of language, that by far the greater part of words, in all languages, acquire a metaphorical meaning. The conse- quence is obvious : this metaphorical meaning of a word, is of- ten dropped, of necessity, when it passes into another language. Or a word may acquire a figurative meaning, instead of the literal. Our adjective acute, comes from the Latin acus. This originally signified a sharp-pointed, piercing instrument. Thence it was easily extended in sense to denote also a sharp- edged, cutting instrument. Thence by figure, it came to de- note certain bodily affections, as keenness of pain ; also intel- lectual qualities, as ivit, shrewdness, keenness of perception. But in common use, we never think of a needle's point, when we speak of an acute accent, an acute reasoner, an acute disease. Our w^ord line, comes from the Greek Xlvov,flax, of which a cord was made. Hence we have by the amplifying power of metaphor, — a line of ancestors, — line of business, line of po- etry ; the sailor crossing the line ; the general, breaking the line of an opposing army. Hence too, linen ; and by a me- tonymy of the substance composing the inner part of a garment, lining ; and hence again, the word lining comes to signify the inner part of many things composed of wood or metals. * Could an old Roman come hack upon the stage, and he told that our words virtue and humility are derived from virtus and humilis, in his langnage ; what sense wonid he attach to the Christian phrase, — " iAe virtue of humility?" — INIuch the same as we should attach to the phrase, — " the fortitude of pusillanimity," 69 542 WHAT IS THE LAW OF LANGUAGE ? This exchange of a literal for a figurative sense, is not limi- ted to the transmigration of words from one language to anoth- er. It occurs constantly in the same language. We think of no incongruity, when we hear of a golden candlestick, the head of a river, the head of an army, the head of a cane, or the head of a discourse. 3. Words lose their original sense by composition. Though this remark is by no means peculiar to our language ; (as might be shown by innumerable examples ;) my meaning may be illustrated, by instances familiar to a mere English schol- ar. Take the case of a preposition compounded with a verb. How often does such a word acquire a sense, altogether new and arbitrary. Thus, there is no affinity in meaning, betwixt — to withdraw, and to dram with ; to understand, and to stand under. So with undertake, overtake, outshine. No analysis of the component parts, is any guide to the sense of the whole. The common import of our inseparable preposition re, is again ; but to remark is not to mark again ; to reprove, is not to prove again. That etymology cannot be the standard of language, I think must be evident, if we consider the three sources of change in the sense of words, to which I have alluded ; viz. — the fluctu- ation of human customs, the influence of metaphor, and of composition. I am happy to confirm these remarks by an ex- tract from Dugald Stewart. " For my own part," says he, " I am strongly inclined to think that the instances are few indeed, (if, in truth, there are any instances,) in which etymolgy fur- nishes effectual aids to guide us, either in writing with propriety the dialect of our own times; or in fixing the exact signifi- cation of ambiguous terms ; or in drawing the line between expressions, which seem to be nearly equivalent." "One thing I can state as a fact, concerning these etymological studies, when pushed to an excess, that I have hardly met with an indi- vidual, habitually addicted to them, who wrote his own language with ease and elegance." " jMy opinion is, that this pedantry has, for many years past, been carried farther than the genius WHAT IS THE LAW OF LANGUAGE ? 543 of the English tongue will justify ; and has had a sensible influ- ence in abridging the variety of its native stores of expression J but it is only of late, that, in separating the primitive from the metaphorical meaning of words, it has become customary for critics to carry their refinements farther than the mere English scholar is able to accompany them ; or to appeal from the au- thority of Addison and Swift, to the woods of Germany." The inquiry then, still remains, " JVhat is the law of lan- guage ? To this inquiry Horace has given the summary answer ; Quern penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi." That good use must be regarded as the standard of proprie- ty in speaking and writing, seems to be manifest, from the very design of language. With the exception, perhaps, of a few sounds denoting surprise or distress, there is no original connex- ion betwixt words, and the thoughts which they represent, This is evident from the fact that men of different nations, though they have essentially the same passions, emotions, re- lations, and necessities, express their thoughts in different lan- guages. Words are public property. They are merely arbi- trary signs, adopted by a sort of tacit compact, as a medium of intercourse among men that speak the same tongue. " The great Augustus himself, in the possession of that power which ruled the world, acknowledged he could not make a new Lat- in word ; which was as much as to say, that he could not arbi- trarily appoint what idea any sound should be the sign of, in the common language of his subjects." LECTURE III. WHAT CONSTITUTES GOOD USE? AMERICANISMS. Having considered, in my last Lecture, the principles of grammatical purity, and the authority oi good use in determining the present meaning of words ; I proceed to inquire II. What constitutes good use ? On this point, we may rest satisfied, I think, with the broad course of Quinctilian, ' the standard of language is not to be taken from the barbarous dialect of the theatre, and the circus ; but the custom of speaking is the consent of the learned.^ I know it may be said, " this rule, after all, leaves us in uncer- tainty, because it is at variance with itself. Spenser, Shakspeare and Barrow were learned men ; are all the words which they used, to be accounted good English in our times ? The rule does not imply this. Though greater license is to be given in poetry and works of science ; in ordinary style, we must con- fine our authorities to good writers of modern times. This princi- ple was admitted by the Greeks and Romans. To the question, " at what distance backwards from this moment, are authors still to be accounted as possessing legislative voice in language ?" — rtbe ablest of modern critics answers ; " It is safest to consider those words and idioms as obsolete, which have been disused by all good authors, for a longer period than the age of man extends toy Whatever intrinsic difficulty attends the fixing of precise limits, in this case, some such standard must be resorted to, or we are without standard. Let us apply here the obvious principle, that the primary purpose of speaking is to be understood. WHAT CONSTITUTES GOOD USE ? 545 Our English adjective painful, now signifies, /u// of pain, or causing pain. Very rarely is it used in either of its ancient acceptations, for difficult, or laborious. The sense which the translators of the Psalms affixed to it in this passage, — " When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me," (that is, loo difficult,) is seldom affixed to it, probably, by common readers. And I presume no one would think himself complimented now, by the high commendation of his fidelity, with which Archbish- op Usher was introduced to Charles the First, — " this is a most painful preacher." The verb to prevent, according to established present use, signifies to hinder. But its etymological sense was to come be- fore; and its ancient English sense, to anticipate. If this sense is not entirely lost among common people, it is to be ascribed to the fact that it must be recalled occasionally, to give any meaning to a few passages of the English Bible; as, " I prevented the dawning of the morning, and ci'ied." , " Mine eyes prevent the night watches." But in defiance of this re- spectable authority, the ancient use of this word is becoming obsolete ; and a man now would hardly be thought to speak good English, or good sense, who should say as Bishop Beve- ridge did : " We can do all things through divine grace prevent- ing and assiting us." As the canon we have adopted does not imply that all words which once were in reputable use, are now to be accounted good English, so it does not imply, that no new words are to be ad- mitted into our language. This might as well have been as- sumed in the time of Chaucer, to the exclusion of all the im- provements of modern days. -" Licuit semperque liceblt "Signatum praesente uota, producere nomcn." New words may be introduced, provided they are in conformity with the laws of analogy, and of present idiom. — ' As the forests change their foliage with the revolving year, so antiquated words must be succeeded by others of more recent origin. It is in vain to hope that language only shall be immutable, amidst 546 AMERICANISMS. the fluctuation of all other human things.' When all changes shall cease in men's habits of thinking and acting ; in their political, social and religious institutions ; in commerce and arts ; then, and not before, may we expect language to become unalterable. But we need not rest this point on any considerations resulting from the nature of the case, when it is so easily decided by an appeal to facts. Perhaps no single man, ancient or modern, has ever done so much to give stability to his own language, as Johnson. His Dictionary is an imperishable monument, of the genius and learn- ing of its author. Yet this gigantic man, with all his pride of intellect, did not expect to prevent changes in his native tongue. He saw it change under his own hand. He admitted words in- to his own style, which were not in his vocabulary. Subse- quent lexicographers, among whom is Walker, have added ma- ny others to Johnson's list. Still Walker has omitted many words that are constantly used by the best English writers, such as impressive, statement. At last, Mr. Todd announced a new edition of Johnson, with the '^addition of many thousand words. ^' These indeed are not all professedly new words ; the greater part of them on the contrary, are so decidedly obsolete, that they can never be restored to a place in the language. But not a few of these words, which are now sanctioned by good use, were never before incorporated into any public standard. Such changes, half a century has produced in the language of En- glishmen, notwithstanding their veneration for their great philol- ogist. Similar changes must occur hereafter. But while the right to add new words to the language is claimed on the other side of the water, and assented to by us, the question arises, how far the same right belongs to Americans ? If the decision of this question is to be left exclusively to British Reviewers, it has long been settled that our rights, in this case, amount to nothing. Though these gentlemen were as much distinguished by their candour and decorum, as by the au- thoritative air with which they give judgment, still we could not submit to their judgment implicitly. Much less can we con- AMERICANISMS. 547 sent that a question in which we have so much interest, should be decided by the sneers of ephemeral critics, without claiming the right of examination for ourselves. That the literature and taste of Englishmen are superior to our own, ought to be admitted, and is admitted by all enlight- ened Americans ; and that, without at all bringing into compari- son, the powers of original genius. They are our elder breth- ren, and have institutions and habits, far more favorable to high improvement than we possess. We have, properly speaking, no literati ; and cmi have none, while every man is compelled to earn his bread by some professional employment. Far be the day then, in which the great classic writers of our mother coun- try shall cease to be regarded by us as the standard of taste. At least let us take the laws of composition from these, till we shall produce American Miltons and Addisons. But this by no means implies that we may never add a word to the language. As an independent people, we have institu- tions of our own ; some of which bear very little affinity to any which exist in the British empire. Shall we have no words corresponding with these peculiarities in our civil and ecclesias- tical concerns ? Our church judicatories, our denominations of money, and even our national government, we must speak of in terms of our own ; that is, in terms which are either new or are used in a new signification. I know these terms are so limited in their number and application, as to have very little influence on what is properly called style. But I see no reason why we should not have some little share, in choosing what new words shall be added to the current language of our ancestors. Indeed with whatever ill grace our transatlantic brethren allow us this privilege, experience has proved that they cannot altogether withhold it from us. Several words of Amer- ican origin have within a few years struggled into good use in England ; and, in spite of carping critics, have found their way to the bar, the bench, the senate and the pulpit. Such are organize, disorganize, demoralize, and their verdal nouns or- ganization, he. 548 AMERICANISMS. But it is said, ^ii flood of new-fangled words, introduced by Americans, threatens to destroy the purity of the English tongue.' This charge is loudly preferred against us by British travellers and reviewers, and humbly echoed by writers of our own country. To this charge, I reply in the Jirst place, that whatever of truth it contains, is mingled with much misrepresen- tation. Out of many examples to prove this, I select but two or three. Dr. Franklin remarked, that during his absence in France, several new words were introduced into our language ; among others he mentioned the verb to advocate. The British review- ers have constantly treated this as an American word. The London editor of Ramsay's History says ; " it is classed among those American words which the English have ahogether de- clined to countenance." And finally, one of our own best schol- ars, who had set himself professedly to study this subject of Americanisms, said in 1815; — "It is admitted by all, that the verb to advocate, is of American origin ;" — and he plainly class- ed it with those words which, being censured by well educated men in England, " ought not to be used elsewhere, by those who would speak correct English," Let us see now what the Rev. Mr. Todd, the new editor of Johnson, says of this Americanis7n in 1814. After a definition of the verb to advocate, he proceeds thus : " Mr. Bouch- er has remarked, that though this verb has been said to be an improvement on the English language, which has been discov- ered by the United States of North America, since their sepa- ration from Great Britain, it is a very common and old Scottish word. But Mr. Boucher, he adds, has been misled in this lit- erary concession which he has made to the Americans ; for it is also an old English word, employed by one of our finest and most manly writers ; and if the Americans affect to plume them- selves on this pretended improvement of our language, let them, as well as their abettors, withdraw the unfounded claim to dis- AMERICANISMS. 549 covery, in turning to the prose writings of Milton."* He then confirms his statement, by an example from Milton, and anoth- er from Burke. Now if we might dare to speak, after being chided so severe- ly, we should say, here is a hard case. We are blamed, by a succession of learned critics British and American, for making the verb to advocate. While we are in the act of owning our fault, another critic says we are not entitled to the honor of mak- ing this word ; and finally, a critic who claims to be umpire, in the last resort, says it was an unreasonable concession to inti- mate that the origin of this word had been even ascribed to Americans ; and that it must be literary arrogance in us, to claim the discovery of a word which was used by Milton. Thus these gentlemen have fairly helped us out of a dilemma ; while the manner in which they have done it, is but little adapted to ex- cite our gratitude or respect. Another word which is said to be peculiar to America is conn- teraction, from the verb to counteract. Upon this, I have only to say that Mr. Todd admits it into his vocabulary, on the au- thority of Johnson's Rambler. Subscriber, used as in the following example ; " He was the subscriber of the letter," the Edinburgh reviewers say is " an American innovation." But Johnson defines " subscriber,'''' one who subscribes: and to subscribe he defines to underwrite the name ; and cites an example from Addison, exactly paral- lel to this " American innovation." Without extending these remarks further, I will only observe that much the greater part of the words, confessedly unauthor- ized such as profanity for profaneness, preventative for pre- ventive, which I have been accustomed to consider as peculiar to this country, turn out on examination to have been, and to be still, as much used in England as here : and this is especially the case with our most censurable provincialisms. In illustra- * Mr. Todd, in his zeal to condemn American claims, twice speaks of our discovering a word ; we sometimes indeed coin or introduce a new word, but never discover one. 70 550 AMERICANISMS. tion of this remark, I might say, that since I made out my list of examples on this subject, I have found the word difficulted, which I had classed with missionaie in the lowest rank of un- authorized Americanisms, sanctioned by no less authority than that of a late English nobleman, and cabinet minister. Lord Thurlow : and mispense, which T had assigned to the same rank, appears to have been used by good old English writers, as Barrow, and Bishop Hall. Having erased at different times, the above tvv^o words from my list of Americanisms, I inserted the verb to gospelize in their place, confidently believing that we must own this among our " innovations ;" but this too, turns out to have been used by Milton, when North America was scarcely known. It is now obsolete. To the charge that we corrupt our native tongue, it may be replied, in the second place, that the line betwixt vulgar and reputable use, is not so distinctly marked here as in England. This is the necessary result of our habits. I^Iost of our literary men spring from obscurity, and rise by personal merit, without that safeguard in childhood, which Quinctilian drew around his infant pupils; " that they should not learn the dialect of nurses, which they must unlearn again." We are, besides, almost destitute of any paramount, public censorship over the press, to chastise the sallies of affectation in writers. Notwithstanding these disadvantages, the number of unauthorized Americanisms, which are admitted into good company among ourselves is small. We sometimes see approbate, belittle, jeopardize, engagedness, grade and lengthy in books, and hear missionaie, variate, be- trustment, and bestowment, in conversation or prayer. But none of these I presume can be said to have the stamp of good use among us. On the whole, we should hold our language as a precious inheritance, not to be marred in our hands. The coining of words should be governed by fixed principles, and not be left to those who are destitute of taste, and literary authority. The constitution of the great republic of letters is not to be tampered with. Let the caprice of pedantry and affectation be held in AMERICANISMS. 551 awe by the lash of criticism. Let a firm stand be maintained against needless and frivolous innovation. Still we must have new words. Nor can any valid objection be made to their introduction, if they are formed according to our analogy and idiom. Nearly two thousand words have been thus formed, by composition with the inseparable negative particle un, as to un- bar, to unbind. In the same manner, by the aid of more than fifty prefix and suffix particles, a great part of our language has been made up. So joy ful, fearful, fearless, hopeless, etc. came into use ; and so prayerful and heartless are coming in. In some of these cases however, the principles of analogy seem not to have been regarded. A joyful man is a mvLnfuU of joy ; but a wonderful man is not a man full of wonder, but the ob- ject ofioonder to others. An incoherent book, is one xoanting connexion ; but an invaluable book, is not one wanting value. The want of uniformity in combining words with our inseparable prepositions, often renders them equivocal. Example ; — *' The average annual amount of property, shipped and ?mshipped, in London, is seventy millions." — Un has commonly the sense of not. The meaning of this sentence is — " property put on board ships, or landed from ships." " Shipped and not shipped" — would destroy the writer's meaning. I only add two or three brief remarks. The first is, that when a new word offers itself as a candidate for public favor, it must pass its probation in the spoken language, and make good its claims to reputable use here, before it can be admitted into style. To the general caution which ought to govern us on the sub- ject of new words, there must be a standing exception in fa- vor of discoveries or inventions in arts and sciences. It would be idle to object to such terms as stereotype, telegraph, galvan- ism, vaccination. Technical words are hardly subject to gen- eral laws, as they rarely occur in style. A second remark is, that the rage for adopting /orei^n words, in common speech, when we have already equivalent words of our own, is to be chiefly guarded against. On this point. 552 AMERICANISMS. the opinion of Addison, whose taste no one will question, is expressed as follows : " I have often wished, that, as in our constitution, there are several persons vi^hose business it is to watch over our laws, our liberties, and commerce ; certain men might be set apart as superintendants of our language, to hin- der any words of a foreign coin from passing among us : and in particular to prohibit any French phrases from becoming cur- rent in this kingdom, when those of our own stamp are alto- gether as valuable. Our warriors are very industrious in prop- agating the French language, at the same time that they are so gloriously successful in beating down their power. Our soldiers are men of strong heads for action, and perform such feats as they are unable to express. But when we have won battles which may be described in our own language, why are our papers fil- led with so many unintelligible exploits : and our enemies obli- ged to lend us a part of their tongue, before we can know how they are conquered ? I do not find in any of our chronicles that Edward the third ever reconnoitered the enemy, though he of- ten discovered their position, and often vanquished them in bat- tle. The Black prince passed many a river, without the help of jJontoons ; and filled a ditch with faggots as successfully as the generals of our times do it wkh fascines. ^^ My last remark is, that reviewers are not to be regarded as or- acles on the subject of style. Some of their performances are distinguished for richness of thought, and elegance of diction, which entitle them to rank with the first productions of the age. But these universal lawgivers in criticism, too often claim for them- selves exemption from all laws ; and as privileged censors upon the language of others, hold themselves at liberty to range from the extremes of refinement, to colloquial vulgarism. The magis- terial air, the peculiarity of spirit and object, the levity and even licentiousness, which often characterise this modern spe- cies of writing, forbid us to make it our model, in grave compo- sition. LECTURE IV. STYLE. DEFINITION OF STYLE. PERSPICUITY. I shall now proceed To the SECOND general branch of our subject, viz. — The COMBINATION of words in sentences, including construction and arrangement, or what we mean by composition. Style is a fine art, as much as sculpture, painting, or poetry. Like other fine arts, it has hitherto been an object of compara- tively little attention in our country. Many of our ablest di- vines have regarded it as a thing of no importance ; and even at this day, some good men suppose that all attempts in a preach- er to acquire skill in writing, denote a correspondent indifier- ence to matter. From such inadequate views of this subject, we are to account for the fact that though this country has produced theological works of standard excellence, both as to Christian spirit, and depth of research ; they have too common- ly been written in a style extremely defective. There cannot be a doubt, that some of our most valuable treatises on doctrin- al and practical religion, would have been much more useful, not only to men of taste, but to the unlearned, if the authors had been more attentive to the principles of good writing. The evidence of facts on this subject is not to be controverted. That book, whatever may be its intrinsic worth, which is written in a very bad style, will be neglected, or read as a task.* Quinc- tilian says ; " some are against all study of composition, and • Ex. Dr. Hopkiim' Posthumous Sermons. 564 DEFINITION OF STYLE. consider that style as the most manly and natural, which is un- polished, such as men used, at first, without instruction. But if it is wrong for jDOSterity to improve their language, it is wrong to exchange their huts for houses, their covering of skins for clothes, or their mountains and forests for cities. What is not improved hy cultivation ? Why do men bind up the vines ? Why dig around them ? Why clear our fields of weeds? The soil produces them. Why do we tame animals? They are born wild. See with how much more force a river runs, when it meets with no obstruction, than when its waters are divided and broken by interposing rocks. So a well con- nected and vigorous style, is better than one that is incoherent and feeble." Blair and Beattie define style : " The way in which a man expresses his conceptions by means of language." Swift says — " Proper words in proper places, make the true definition of a style." As this subject has been so often and so ably treated in books, to which every scholar has access, it is my design to ex- hibit some general principles, instead of going into minute il- lustrations. The first quality of style which I shall consider is perspi- cuity. When we present any truth to the mind of an intelligent man in language that is perfectly clear, he perceives our meaning without effort. But if our language is confused or obscure, his attention is at once withdrawn from the thought we intended to express, and occupied with the defects of the expression. Mr. Addison says : " There is as much difference between compre- hending a thought, clothed in Cicero's language, and that of an ordinary writer, as between seeing an object by the light of a ta- per, and the light of the sun." And the great Roman Critic says : " That discourse which requires an interpreter is a bad one. We must take care, not only to render it possible that we should be understood, but impossible that we should be mis- understood." PERSPICUITY. 555 When a man's style is obscure, it is owing to some of the following causes. 1. To a had choice of words. In all languages, custom has attached various significations to the same word. To give a single specimen from English verbs: to make has, according to Johnson, sixty-six meanings ; to put, eighty meanings, and to take, one hundred and thirty four. This principle of language makes precision in the use of words, a difficult attainment : and exposes the careless writer to the con- stant hazard of being unintelligible. The most common way in which obscurity arises from this source is, that the same word is used, in the same connexion, with different significa- tions. Example : " ihdXjust man has just finished his mortal course." Here just denotes in the first place upright, while in the second place, it is uncertain whether almost or recently is intended. 2. Obscurity may arise from had arrangement. The meaning of every word in a sentence may be perfectly obvious, and yet the sentence be unintelligible. If the colloca- tion of words is not such as the relative sense of each requires, confusion will be the necessary consequence. The following ex- ample from a distinguished writer, is chargeable with this fault. " I do not remember to have met with any instance of modes- ty, with which I am so well pleased, as that of the young prince whose father was a tributary king to the Romans."* By the phrase, " irihutary king to tjie Romans,^'' the mind is held in a suspense, which would have been prevented by a small change in the arrangement, thus : " a king tributary to the Romans." In another example of modern date, we see a gross violation, not only of perspicuity, but of elegance, thus ; " The following is part of the description given of the celebration of the reestab- lishment of Popery, by Bonaparte, by Mr, Yorke, who was present." Quinctilian tells us, that a question at law arose on the terms • Specf. No. 373. 556 PERSPICUITY. of a will, ordering the heir to erect " statuam auream hasiam tenentem.^^ The point in dispute was, whether it was to be a golden statue, holding a spear ; or a statue holding a golden spear* In all languages, the different parts of speech may be gram- matically connected with different parts of a sentence, leading to a correspondent difference in sense. This is especially the case with our language, which has but few inflections. Our adjectives, for example, have no variation of case, gender or number. We say happy man, happy men, happy women. Whether we refer to one person or more, to male or female, to agent or object, is not determined by the form of the adjective, but by/the sense. Without great care in arrangement, there- fore, the sense becomes obscure. Take this senteftce : " God heapeth favors on his servants, ever liberal and faithful." In Latin, these words in this order, would be rendered perspic- uous by inflection. But in English, the epithets liberal and faithful may refer to God, or to his servants: and the ambi- guity can be remedied, only by a change of arrangement. The same cause often produces uncertainty in the reference of pro- nouns and relatives. Beattie illustrates it by this example : "I am going with letters to the post office, which I have in my pocket." Though this sentence would be inelegant in Latin, the number of the relative which, would instantly fix the mean- ing. Whereas in English, the doubt is solved, not by grammar but by common sense. I might observe too, that adverbs, and all those minor parts of speech, which serve to qualify and connect other words, should be so placed in a sentence, as that the mind may instant- ly perceive their relation to those words, whose signification * Of the same sort, is the celebrated response of the oracle, " Ibis et redibis nunquam peribis in bello." The present order of the words may affirm either, " thou shall never return," "or thou shalt never per- ish." A change of the adverb's place would remove the doubt. The similar response to Pyrrhus, would not be freed from doubt by any change of arrangement. — "Aio te Rornanos vincere posse." PERSPICUITY. 557 they are designed lo affect. Example ; three changes of sense in the following sentence, are produced by varying the place of the adverb only. "This book only was loaned to me" — means this and no other. " This book was only loaned to me" — means loaned, not sold or given. " This book was loaned to me only" — means to me and to no other. There is one other violation of perspicuity by bad arrange- ment, so common, that it deserves to be especially noticed here ; I mean the ivrong position of circumstances. A single example may be sufficient ; " I return my answer, to the question which you sent me, in the following ivords.'^ This clause, in the fol- lowing words, is ambiguous, because the collocation does not determine whether it refers to the question, or the answer.* 3. Obscurity of style arises in various ways, from affectation. This weakness in a writer is sometimes displayed in the length and involution of his sentences. To acquire the reputation of genius or erudition, he despises whatever is common,' and aims at a style that is above the level of ordinary minds. Hence his laboring faculties unburden themselves in such a profusion of words, and in such a complicated group of members and cir- cumstances, that it must require, indeed, uncommon powers to divine his meaning. I know that a long sentence is not al- ways obscure. It may have so much simplicity and order in its structure, as to render the sense very obvious. But pro- tracted periods, that are artificial in structure, are seldom un- derstood without labour, to which a clear writer will not sub- ject his readers. This complex form of sentences, is still more fatal to perspicui- ty, when an affected pomp of diction is superadded. It is reason * We can hardly look amiss for instances of a fault so very com- mon ill the structure of sentences. A hook lately sent me for our public library, was jiccornpanied with a letter froai the author, begin- ing thus: "I send a cojjy of the work which I have been occupied in preparing, a year or two past, for tlie library of the Andover Insti- tution." Here the last clause beifig misplaced, tnr-kes a merely inci- dental thing the writer's chief object in preparing his book. 71 568 PERSPICUITY. enough why a writer should be unintelligible, that he regards the sound rather than the signification of his words. But affectation may lead to obscurity in sentences by too much brevity^ as well as by too much length. As a writer pays no compliment to the understanding of those whom he addresses, by supposing it necessary to dilate every thought with a tedious multiplicity of words ; so he is not to suppose that every thought, which reflection has made familiar to himself, will of course be familiar to others. A great sentiment may sometimes be ex- pressed clearly in a very few words. But where great con- ciseness results from an effort to utter our thoughts in the few- est words that can be employed, we contract an elliptical phra- seology, as unfriendly to clearness as too much prolixity. " Brevis esse laboro obscurus fio." The following remarks on affected obscurity in writing, I quote from a standard author, as applicable to the several de- fects just noticed. " Mr. Cowley observes to one of his friends, — ' You tell me, that you do not know whether Persius be a good poet or no, because you cannot understand him ; for which very reason, T affirm that he is not so.' This art of writing unintelligibly, has been very much improved by several of the moderns, who observing the general inclination of mankind to dive into a secret, and the reputation many have acquired by concealing their meaning, under obscure terms and phrases ; resolve, that they may be still more abstruse, to write without any meaning at all. The Egyptians who made use of hiero- glyphics, to signify several things, expressed a man, who con- fined his knowledge altogether within himself, by the figure of a dark lantern closed on all sides ; which though it was illumi- nated within, afforded no manner of light or advantage to such as stood by it. For my own part, I should much rather be com- pared to an ordinary lamp, which consumes itself for the bene- fit of every passenger."* * Sprcf. No, 370. I^*' PERSPICUITY. 559 4. The last source of obscurity which I shall mention, is indistinct conception in a writer. A man's language is intimately connected with the structure of his mind: it is indeed a copy of his mind, presented to oth- ers, either on paper, or in articulate sounds. When he writes, he thinks visibly : when he speaks, he thinks audibly. How then can the expression of his thoughts be perspicuous, when the thoughts themselves are confused. Horace says, " when a man is master of his subject, he will not be deficient in fluency of style, nor in lucid order."* Let one undertake to describe a city, or give a narrative of facts with which he is but partially acquainted, and you see at once, that knowledge which he possesses imperfectly, he cannot communicate fully and clearly. Th-a same principle is universal in its application. A writer can never make that clear to his read- ers, which is not clear to himself. He is perplexed in finding words to express his meaning, and his language is indefinite and dark, because his conceptions of his subject are indefinite. But on common subjects, let a man thoroughly comprehend and feel what he wishes to utter, and his expression, though it may be incorrect will be perspicuous and significant. It will distinctly convey to others, the impressions of his own mind. Shall we then conclude, that every man, who in any case writes obscurely, has a feeble understanding.'' By no means. The fountain of light itself is sometimes concealed behind clouds. The most strong and luminous intellect will not al- ways preserve a writer, from expressing himself in a manner diflSicult to be understood. There may be some intrinsic diffi- culty in his subject. It may be so abstruse that the clearest discussion which it admits, will not bring it within the compass of ordinary minds. But if the subject admits of perspicuous treatment, and is well understood by the writer, his style will commonly be perspicuous. In this case I know of but two rea- -"cui lecta potenter erit res, Nee facundia deseret hunc, nee lucidus ordo." Ars Po. V. 40. 560 PERSPICUITY. sons why a man who thinks clearly, should write obscurely. One is, that he may have acquired no skill in using language, by the habit of writing. The other is, that he may have acquir- ed a had habit, by imitating bad models. LECTURE V. STYLE. STRENGTH, AS DEPENDING ON UNITY AND BREVITY. The next general quality of style which we are to consider, is STRENGTH. By this I mean that the language which a writer employs, is adapted to convey to the minds of others, a full and vivid impression of his own ideas. He who expresses his thoughts so that they are understood, and felt, and rememberd, by those whom he addresses, whatever inelegance may attend his style, is not a feeble writer. Throughout these remarks, however, I wish not to be understood as expressing the opinion, that any single property of good writing should be sought, to the exclusion of others. All the essential constituents of such writing are so related to each other, that we rarely meet with any one in great perfection where the rest are wanting. The basis of a good style is good sense. A vigorous and active perception, a solid judgment, and a lively fancy are qualities which, in some con- siderable measure, must be found united, to produce a writer of distinction. Still it should be remembered, that no one kind of writing is adapted to all the variety of subjects, which a man may be called to treat. To determine in any given case, what is the best style to be employed, he must consider the end to be accomplished, the persons to be addressed, and his own taste and temperament. The observations which I propose to make on strength of style, maybe comprised under three heads, — unity, brevity and good arrangement. The two former are to bo now considered. 062 SRENGTH : UNITY. 1. Unity. This principle, so far as it respects the use of figures, or the sim- plicity of design, and consistency of parts which a composition should possess, with reference to its entire effect, helongs to an- other part of these Lectures.* A iew remarks only are neces- sary here, on unity in the structure of sentences. In every sentence properly formed, some complete sense is expressed. If the sentence is simple, it contains but one subject, and one finite verb ; if it is complex, it contains more parts, united by connectives expressed or understood. Such a complex structure may be perspicuous and forcible, even though extended to many members, if the underparts are dis- tinctly related to the chief agent or object. But in the manage- ment of these subordinate members, a careless writer falls into confusion. He changes the form of expression, so that you per- ceive no common relation among the various parts of his sen- tence : or he presents one object before you, and while your eye is fixed on that, he introduces a second and a third. By these transitions you forget which is the governing object, or perhaps are unable distinctly to see any object. A wrong sense is often suggested by introducing a negative clause in a sentence which is not adapted lo its other clauses. In the following example, — " He is unworthy to live, much less to dispose of the lives of others ;" — according to unity, the neg- ative unworthy is understood after less, which perverts the sense. Again, " Many who are not experimental Christians, and even infidels pay homage to Christianity." After the negative clause, a positive one, viz. " who are " is understood, and should be expressed, to give the true sense. The following sentence conforms in structure to syntax, but violates the principle under consideration ; " Paul was ready to please others, and careful not to give offence, by be- coming all things to all men." Here are three members. The * These Lectures having been prepared in connexion with the au- thor's Lectures on the composition of a Sermon, are here spoken of as a part of that course. See Lectures on Homiietics, p. 107. STRENGTH : BREVITY. 663 writer's meaning requires that the first two should have a com- mon relation to the last. But the first is affirmative, and the second negative. Instead, therefore, of expressing the sense intended, the structure implies that Paul, lest he should give offence avoided " becoming all things to all men." The mean- ing of the writer is exactly contrary to this ; and would have been expressed by placing the second clause thus : — "Paul was careful not to give offence, and was ready to please others, by becoming all things to all men." Perhaps unity is violated more frequently than in any other way, by a wrong use of the ellipsis. Such a structure as the following is very common ; " He believed the truth of the Scriptures, and also in the absolute perfection of God, and that man is a ruined sinner." Here the two words " he he- lieved,^^ though omitted by ellipsis, in reality begin the two last members. But there is no unity of grammatical relation. In the first member, believed is an active verb followed by an objective case ; in the second, it is neuter followed by a pre- position governing an objective case ; in the third, it is neuter followed by a noun in the nominative case. The fault would have been avoided by making the verb active throughout ; thus, — " He believed the truth of the Scriptures, the perfection of God, and the ruin of man :" or by making it new^'e?- throughout, with all the nouns in the nominative, thus : " He believed that the Scriptures are true, that God is perfect, and that man is a ruined sinner." A mixed structure occasions so much indistinctness as to en- ieeble the expression. For this reason chiefly, parentheticclauses, when they are long and often repeated, are a blemish in style. The distinctive manner in which they must be delivered, to prevent confusion of sense, proves that a long parenthesis al- ways endangers the unity of a sentence. And it is doubtless true that whatever impairs the unity, in the same proportion impairs the energy of style. n. Brevity. The influence o( brevity on the strength of style, requires a more extended consideration. 564 STRENGTH : BREVITY. In determining how much conciseness is adapted to produce the strongest effect, we should consider the nature of our sub- ject, and the intellectual cultivation of those whom we ad- dress. The understanding is a faculty to which conciseness of diction is best suited. Hence in all countries, brevity has been considered a perfection in the language of authority, of judicial decisions, and of didactic poetry. Strong passion too demands it ; especially the highest kind of tender emotion, always ut- ters itself in a few words; while the fancy admits of amplifica- tion and ornament. A compact writer dispenses with all words which do not con- tribute something to the sense. He regards ornament, on its own account, much as he does his shadow, which is never to be the object of pursuit, but must be permitted to attend him, if he walks in clear light. When such a writer resorts to figures, they are commonly those which present a bold and strong image at once ; rather than those which exhibit a group of images. Among the writers most distinguished for energetic brevity, Aristotle and Tacitus have always been reckoned. Among the celebrated orators of antiquity, none was more distinguished for this quality than Phocion. Persuaded that it is with words as with coins, the value of which is in inverse proportion to their bulk ; he adopted a close, concise style, which gave irresistible weight to his eloquence. Hence when Phocion appeared to speak in public, Demosthenes was wont to say, " there is the axe which cuts away the effect of my words." Energy was, however, a prominent attribute of the style of Demosthenes, as Cicero strikingly said in' describing the Greek orators: " Sua- vitatera Isocrates habuit, subtilitatem Lysias, acumen Hyperi- des, sonitum Aeschines, vim Demosthenes." There is much the same difference as to effect, betwixt a dif- fuse and a concise style, as betwixt the ordinary motion of the air, and its concentrated action through the pipe of a furnace. Style is enfeebled, 1. By a repetition of the same thought in words that are synonymous. This is technically called Tautology. It pro- ST RENGTH : — TAUTOLOGY : INTENSIVE STYLE 565 duces debility, because it lengthens the sentence, without ad- vance in meaning. Men of sense sometimes contract a habit of associating certain words, so that when one is used, it inva- riably draws its fellow after it : as odious and hateful, pleasure and satisfaction, fruition and enjoyment. Witherspoon, after mentioning a gentleman of rank, who in drawing an address from a British borough to his Majesty, told him that the " terror of his arms had spread to the most distant parts of the terraqueous globe ;" observes, " though it is certainly true that the globe is terraqueous, it was exceedingly ridiculous to tell the king so ; as if his majesty were a boy ; or the bor- ough magistrates had just learned the first lesson in geography, that the globe consists of land and water, and were desirous of letting it be known that they were so far advanced." 2. A writer may become feeble, by adopting what may be termed the intensive style ; in which I include the diffuse and the inflated. The strength of language depends on the clear expression of thought. According to this plain principle of common sense, it has become nearly proverbial, that poverty of thought seeks to conceal itself under a profusion of words. An effort of a weak or vacant mind, to say something remarkable, betrays the scan- tiness of its resources by a periphrastic diction. With such a mind, thouglits are too precious a commodity to be dealt out freely ; but words, which cost nothing, and which are common property to the wise and foolish, may be lavished with unsparing liberality. Careless writers do not distinguish betwixt mere ep- ithets, and that necessary use of adjectives which discriminates qualities. Example ; — I may speak of the " luminous rays," or the " horizontal rays" of the sun. In the former case, all the meaning is expressed in the noun ; in the latter, a distinct meaning is added by the adjective. The same epithet may, however, become significant by a change of connexion.* If I * In the common |)lirases previous preparation and previous preju- dice, though often inadvertently used hy good scholars, no distinct meaning is expressed by the adjective. 72 566 STRENGTH : — INTENSIVE STYLE. speak of a " glorious enterprise" I may mean to distinguish it from one that is criminal or contemptible. If I merely affirm that a man belongs to the clerical profession, I say he is a preach- er ; if I describe the rank he sustains in his profession, I say he is a useful, or an eminent preacher; and the phrase will have more or less meaning, according to its connexion with some re- lated thought. But if I say he is an instructive preacher, or an eloquent preacher, or d, fervent preacher, my language becomes forcible just in proportion to the precision of my qualifying words. These remarks explain that accumulation of epithets, which is a common characteristic of a feeble style. Every substantive, like a military chief, has its guard of honour ; and is scarcely to be distinguished from the vulgar herd of words, amidst the ret- inue of adjectives, and adverbs, and particles with which it is surrounded. When a feeble writer tells you of some truth, you may know beforehand that it will be a " capital, interesting, im- portant, fundamental truth." That style must be feeble, where such an assemblage of qualities, is attached to every object and action : or to change the allusion, when the strongest words are made to lean on so many props. The proverb says, " One staff is convenient to a traveller; a hundred would be a burden." So much for the diffuse. This redundancy becomes still more exceptionable than the merely diffuse, when the epithets are chosen, as they are wont to be, with a reference to sound and display, as in the inflated style. Long and complex adjectives are usually best adapted to this purpose ; especially when they are so formed from an- cient languages, as to exhibit an air of learning in him who uses them. I would by no means be understood to censure, without exception, the use of complex adjectives. Such combinations as ^^purple-fingered, lion-hearted, tempest-footed^'' have been allowed^ at least in poetry, from the days of Homer ; and are often more picturesque than any simple words could be. The fault now under consideration, is effort at splendor of diction. It may be considered as a sort of axiom on this subject, that the ■TRENGTH : INTENSIVE STYLE. 567 fewer and feebler a man's thoughts are, the more excessive will be his tendency to the use of superlatives. The man who knows that his credibility deserves to be suspected, always attempts to confirm the statement of a fact by some asseveration. Accor- ding to the same law of mind, he whose conceptions are faint and indistinct, expects to render the expression of them forci- ble, by the aid of intensives. It is not aside from my purpose to say, that the extravagant system of titles and eulogies which has prevailed in the world, is accounted for on this principle. When Moses addresses or describes the Father of the Universe, we are struck into awe by the simple majesty of the appellations, Jehovah, I am. But a poor worm that occupies a momentary throne, seeks to conceal his littleness under the pomp of multi- plied titles, of which it is often hard to say which is the most conspicuous, the insignificance or the impiety. The Saviour of the world, whose character was perfect ; and the twelve Apostles, who exhibited an assemblage of excellence, such as the world has not since witnessed, are described, as you know, in the gospels, without a single epithet of praise. Next to the dignity and strength of the sacred writings in this respect, the finest examples are presented in the writings of the ancient Greeks. " Xenophon in his Cyropaedia, does not once say that Cyrus was an admirable man : but throughout the work, he makes us admire him." But let a weak writer attempt to describe a good character, and he overwhelms you with epi- thets. All is lofty and magnificent. Because common words are too tame to suit his style of elevated encomium, he resorts to superlatives and intensives. And if you get a glimpse of the character described, through the superabundant drapery of the description, you perceive only that it is not the character of a man.* To this redundancy of epithets, in whatever kind of compo- sition it is found, the sarcastic couplet of Pope was intended to apply : * See a good passage on turgid style ; Foster's Essays, Andovec Ed. pp. 203—4. 568 STRENGTH : — PROLIXITY. " Words are like leaves, and where they most abound Much fruit of sense beneath, is rarely found." In this connexion may be mentioned a quality which too of- ten characterizes and debilitates our pulpit style ; viz. the connecting of certain words so that when one is uttered, you expect the rest of course. As examples of this careless and cus- tomary association, I might mention — " life and conversation," — "Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor," — " death, judgment, and eternity."* Another fault to which preachers are peculiarly liable, should not be forgotten : I mean that quality of writing which may be called artificial animation. The whole tribe of cold interjec- tions belong to this description : and so does that languid sort of exclamation, which goes through a page, beginning every sen- tence ; " how wonderful is this ! how astonishing !" It is ad- mitted that here is something which resembles warmth ; but it resembles not so much the vigor and vital glow of health, as the heat and debility of a fever. 3. In the narrative style especially, there is another fault which I choose to call prolixity. A feeble writer in this case, renders his description languid by a superfluous and trifling detail. It is the province of good taste to select only those circumstances which are best adapted to the effect, we wish to produce. The great masters of the descrip- tive and narrative style, such as Homer, Tacitus, and Milton, commonly present a rapid sketch, rather than a tedious multi- plication of particulars. The chief design of this kind of writ- ing however, sometimes requires minuteness in the relation. When Cicero would prove that Milo's encounter with Clodius was unexpected to himself, the exquisite skill of the advocate * To show how little prexision of meaning, the writer commonly has ill such cases, I cite ati oxatiiple which ;unouiirs to the hidicrous. Tlie writer says, "At the late ceiehnuioti of independence at F , Col. F , oiieofiho^e w.'io fought, bled, and dieo, at Bunker llill, walked alone in the [)rocession, and wore the same dress which iic wore at that memorable occasion." Rhetoric which raises the dead is a rarity, even on the 4th of Julv. STRENGTH I PROLIXITY. 569 appears in showing that his client had none of the hurry and perturbation of one who meant to commit murder. " As for Milo, my lords, having been in the Senate house that day, as long as the house continued sitting, he came home, he changed his shoes and robes, he waited for sometime, till his wife, as is usual, got herself ready." When the fancy is addressed, the merit of the execution often depends much on the distinct recapitula- tion of small circumstances. This is well exemplified by Cow- per in his winter morning, where he shows you the cottager with his dog and pipe ; by Goldsmith in his deserted village, where you see the aged soldier " Should'ring his crutch to show how fields were won ;" and the country schoolmaster, with his little charge around him, of whom the poet says, "Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face." But in this species of writing, Shakspeare is preeminent. A cold historian, in describing the popular excitement produced by the report of Prince Arthur's death, would have said, " This event occasioned a general agitation, and became the topic of conversation among all classes of people through the country." But put this narrative into the hands of Shakspeare, and he makes the scene live before you. You see the whole commu- nity smitten with a common impulse ; and little groups of men and women, talking of Arthur's death. — "And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear ; And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist. I saw a smith stand with his hammer thus, (The whilst his iron did on his anvil cool,) With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news, Who witli his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust u])on contrary feet,) Told of many thousand warlike French, That wcro embattl'd and rank'd in Kent." 570 STRENGTH : PROLIXITY. I have adduced these examples to show, that the minuteness which often gives vivacity and interest to a narrative, is aUo- gether different from that tedious detail of circumstances, which constitutes the prolixity of a weak writer. And this distinction is not less important to be observed in the style of the Christian preacher, than in that of the poet. LECTURE VI. STYLE. BREVITY CONTINUED. STRENGTH AS DEPENDING ON GOOD ARRANGEMENT. We have already inquired how strength of style is promoted by unity and brevity ; and under the latter head have consider- ed tautology, the intensive style, and prolixity in narrative. Be- fore we dismiss the consideration of brevity, we must notice a 4th cause of debility, namely, the excess of expletives and connective particles. By expletives, I mean small words attached to others, which take up room without increasing the sense. The auxiliary do before plural verbs, is always of this character. Pope at once exemplifies and ridicules this fault in the Essay on Criticism ; " While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line." It should be remarked, however, that emphasis sometimes makes one of these little words the key of a sentence, and rais- es it from insignificance to energy ; thus, " Guiltiness Will speak, — though tongues were out of use." But the strength of style is much more affected by those small words which are employed in connexion and transition. Though these connectives are indispensable in language, they should nev- er be employed when their aid can be dispensed with ; or at least when their aid is only an incumbrance. Such a succession % 572 STRENGTH : EXPLETIVES AND CONNECTIVES. of words and members as we often find carelessly strung together by particles, produce lassitude in the reader or hearer. Accord- ingly when a man writes with vigorous conceptions of his sub- ject; especially when he writes from the impulse o( high emo- tion, he always casts away these fetters. Longinus says, " To entangle the pathetic in the bonds of copulatives, is like tying the limbs of racers." The justness of this remark will be ap- parent to any man of taste, who will insert conjunctions betwixt the clauses of some vivid passage, where the Jigure of asynde- ton prevails. Try the experiment on the impassioned language of Paul. " Are they Hebrews ? so am I. Are they Israelites ? so am I. Are they the seed of Abraham ? so am I. Are they the ministers of Christ ? I am more : in labors more abundant ; in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft. Of the Jews five times received 1 forty stripes save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suf- fered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep." Insert conjunctions betwixt these clauses, and you leave the ex- pression intelligible as before, but divest it of energy. You change this ardent, rapid transition of thought into a tame and tedious recital. There is one case however, in which the repetition of a con- junction promotes energy. This is what ancient rhetoricians termed polysyndeton ; and is used when a distinct enumeration of particulars is intended, and when the attention is to be fixed on each circumstance in the series. This is well illustrated in the language of the same Apostle from whom T have just taken an example of the opposite figure. " For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life ; nor angels, nor principalities, nor pow- ers ; nor things present, nor things to come ; nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." So in the Apocalyptic vision of the heavenly worship, deliberate succession of words gives dignity and weight to the whole : '' Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God forever and ever." STRENGTH : BRKVITY. 573 The whole subject of connectives in the structure of sentences, has been so ably treated by Campbell in his Philosophy of Rhetoric, a work with which each student in this Seminary must of course become familiar, that I shall dwell on this point no farther, than just to notice a few remarks of that judicious writer. Conjunctions, he says, are but the tacks which unite the parts of a sentence or paragraph. Consequently, the less conspicuous they are, the more perfect is the union of parts ; for the same reason that a cabinet is the more complete, the less its pegs and tacks are exposed to view. From this principle he concludes, First, that improvement of taste will lead men to abbreviate the weaker parts of speech, or to prefer short connectives to long ones. This rule bears hard upon that sort of complex conjunctions which consist of a relative and a dissyllabic prepo- sition : as '^whereunio, wherewithal, whereupon. " Secondly, the same particles, especially if they consist of more than one syllable, should not be often repeated. The nows, ands, huts and nors, from their brevity may pass almost un- noticed ; but the incessant return of moreovers, and howevers, and notwithstandings, is intolerable. Thirdly, when it can be done, the situation of the connec- tive particle should be varied. When the natural position of a conjunction is at the beginning of a sentence, it may often be carried forward : one, two, or more words ni;iy precede it, and serve as a cover to render it less observable. Fourthly, the unnecessary accumulation of particles, especially when they are synonymous, is an offence against vivacity and strength. Diffuse writers often fall into such combinations, as yet nevertheless, now therefore however, now then notwithstanding. Fifthly, the omission of copulatives always succeeds best, when the connexion of thought is either very close, or very dis- tant. When this is very close, the copulative seems super- fluous, and when very distant, absurd. It is chiefly in the in- termediate cases that the conjunction is deemed necessary. Having finished what 1 proposed to say on brevity, as con- 73 574 STRENGTH : GOOD ARRANGEMENT. tiibuting to strength of style ; it should perhaps be added that the utility of all principles on this subject, depends on their being applied with judgment. Excess of brevity leads to harsh- ness and obscurity. The ancient Lacones have been celebrated for the conciseness and weight of their expression ; and the rapidity of thought which utters itself in kw words, has com- monly been considered as characteristic of the higher order of genius. Hence the affectation of oracular wisdom, which men of moderate intellects have often discovered, by writing in the form of apothegms and abrupt fragments of sentences that signify nothing. In this case as in all others, the affectation of strength, proves itself to be weakness. III. Good arrarigement. We are now prepared to consider, how the strength of style is promoted by good arrangement. This is what the Rhetoricians of old termed comjiosition. But without following their technical distinctions of order, juncture^ and number^ we may find a better guide to our inquiries, in the dic- tates of common sense, and in the obvious principles of language. It may be considered as a maxim in rhetoric, that the best order of words, is that which is most adapted strongly to im- press the thoughts of the writer on his readers. For the at- tainment of this end, one requisite is, to give the most significant word in a sentence, such a position that its meaning shall be expressed with the greatest effect. Now this brings us to consider a distinction, which more or less exists in all languages, betwixt the grammatical and the rhetorical arrangement. 1. The grammatical order of words is that v>^hich is determin- ed by the principles of syntax : or the relation of agent, action and object. This order is so established in our own tongue, that we sometimes call it natural, and sometimes the logical order. Accordingly in simple sentences which have an active verb, we give the first place to the nominative, the second to the verb, and the third to the accusative. If the verb is intran- sitive, according to the logical order, the subject has the first STRENGTH ! GOOD ARRANGEMENT. 575 place, the verb the second, and the attribute or predicate the third. This arrangement, doubtless has its advantages in point of simplicity and perspicuity j when nothing more is attempted than a plain and cool address to the understanding. But here is no room for inversion ; no opportunity to express emotion, by as- signing the most advantageous place to an emphatic word. A similar defect in the French tongue, is complained of by that fine scholar, the Archbishop of Cambray, in his " Letter to the French Academy." " We have so cramped and im- poverished our language," says he, "that it dares never proceed otherwise than according to the most scrupulous and uniform method of grammar. A nominative substantive appears first, leading in its adjective, as it were, by the hand : its verb con- stantly follows it, attended with an adverb, which admits of nothing between them : and the rule next requires an accu- sative which must always keep in its place. This excludes all suspension of mind, all expectation, surprise, variety ; and oftentimes all noble cadence."* 2. The rhetorical order of words is that which takes place in the language of passion. The chief principle to be regarded in this case is, that what- ever is most felt in the mind, will first find utterance in words. That such a principle belongs to the nature of language, seems evident from the fact that we find it in those languages which are most rigidly tied down to grammatical arrangement. Thus Shakspeare makes the murderer of Hamlet's father say, in the horror of his soul ; " Pray 1 cannot." The gram- matical order, " I cannot pray," is equally perspicuous, but expresses nothing of agitation. The flexibility of the Greek and Roman languages, arising from their variety of inflection, renders them very favourable to brevity of expression. Hence when an important thought is to be conveyed in the fewest terms, as in mottos and inscriptions, * See Letter p. 256. 576 STRENGTH : GOOD ARRANGEMENT. all modem nations resort to the Latin. That this is not the result of caprice, merely, may be seen by the simple process of translation. The maxim of ambitious Caesar — '■^ Oderint,dum timeanV — may be rendered in English ; " Let them hate me, while they fear me." Our adverb while is the shortest that can be used ; and this does not completely express the sense which is " provided thai.'''' At the best, we must use eight words, to translate three. If we try the same experiment on this familiar motto ; " Dum vivimus, vivamus^' — " while we live, let us live ;" or this, " V^incit, Christo duce,^^ — " He conquers, Christ being his leader:" in each case six words are employed to translate three. But it is more to my purpose to observe, that the varied in- flection of the ancient languages, enables the orator to arrange the chief ivords of a sentence to the best advantage. One of the earliest principles that was settled in respect to rhetori- cal arrangement, was, that words which claim the first rank in point of importance, should occupy either the beginning or the close of sentences. To illustrate the defective struc- ture of the English language in reference to this principle of ar- rangement, a modern critic thus compares the introductory words of the epic poets. " The subject of Homer's Iliad, is the wrath of Achilles : and in announcing it, his first word is ^liji'iv, wrath. That of his Odyssey is to celebrate the charac- ter, and relate the adventures of Ulysses. His first word is avdgd, the man. Virgil's iEneid, as has often been remarked, comprises subjects analogous to both those of Horner : warlike action, and personal celebration. His first words are " arma, virumque," " arms and the man.'" Milton's subject was the disobedience and fall of man. But he could not like Homer and Virgil, announce it in the first word of his poem : his lan- guage stopped him at the threshold. His words are, " Of man's first disobedience ;" and thus a genius, at least equal to those boasts of Greece and Rome, was compelled by the clum- sy fabric of his language, to commence his imperishable work by 'd preposition.^^ STRENGTH : GOOD ARRANGEMENT. 677 Still it must be allowed that our language admits, in a con- siderable degree, that energy and beauty which arise from rhe- torical arrangement. I may say, it even admits that emphat- ic idiom of the oriental tongues, which constitutes a rhetorical exception to a rule of syntax. In such phrases as these ; " Your fathers, — where are they !" " He that hath ears to hear, let him hear ;" we have a nominative suspended, without a verb. It may be said the verb is implied by an ellipsis. But the case is clearly one, in which a figure claims its rights of ex- emption from laws which bind cold and common phraseology. Let us take another example. When the Israelites became im- patient at the long stay of Moses in the mount, they came to Aaron and said, " Up, make us gods to go before us ; for nsfor this Moses, we wot not what is become of him." Here the translators, distrusting the powers of their own language, pro- vide for the grammatical regimen, by inserting two particles; " As for this Moses." Omit these timid adjuncts, and you have the impatience, contempt, and audacity of the rebels, express- ed in a bold exclamation, perfectly consistent with the idiom of our language ; " This Moses ! — we wot not what has become of him." I may add that our nouns answering to the vocative case, and verbs in the imperative mood, are not subject to the common disadvantages of English arrangement. Here the chief word may be made prominent at the head of the sentence. Shak- speare might have written, " Vanity, rise up, — royal state, fall down." But with how much more spirit did he write ? — " Up vanity ! down, royal state l^^ In the commencement of Paul's celebrated speech, there is no lumber of particles to obscure the emphatic words. " Men, brethren, and fathers, hearken." So in the Paradise lost, no one can be insensible to the terrific energy of Satan's address to his associates ; — " Princes, potentates, Warriors, Awake, arise, or be forever fall'n." 578 STRENGTH : GOOD ARRANGEMENT. These strictures on arrangement, may be concluded with the following brief remarks. 1 . Rhetorical inversion being the effect of passion, seldom succeeds well in a cool address to the understanding. 2. Strong emotion often carries the emphatic word to the be- ginning of a sentence ; Yet, 3. When the speaker's design is to sustain attention, and sus- pend the effect, the important word is properly placed at the close. It follows, 4. That style is commonly enfeebled by closing sentences with particles, and words of little significance. 5. For the same reason a circumstance forms a feeble close to a sentence. Example: " I shall examine the sources, whence these pleasures are derived, in my next paper." Both perspi- cuity and strength require that a circumstance should be intro- duced as early as possible in the sentence. Yet it should nev- er be placed between two principal members, so as to leave it doubtful to which it belongs ; nor should many circumstances which might be interspersed among the members, be thrown to- gether in succession. 6. When different things relate to each other as to order of time, cause, effect etc., that relation should govern the order of words. Though this principle is so obvious, it is constantly vi- olated in practice. Example : " Had such a letter been writ- ten, I could not have been kept in ignorance of its contents, nor of its existence.''^ This careless order of words implies that the contents of a letter may be known, without a knowledge of its existence. If this illustration seem needlessly minute to any one, I refer him to scores of printed sermons, in which he will find such phrases as these : " The death and sufferings of Christ :" — " The necessity and importance of his death." So much I have thought it necessary to say on strength of style. Several of the topics now to be dismissed, I am aware have been imperfectly considered ; but more enlargement is in- consistent with the plan of these Lectures. LECTURE VII. STYLE. BEAUTY, AS COMPREHENDING HARMONY AND ELEGANCE. Probably I need not say here, that it is no part of my design, to recommend those gaudy and trivial decorations of style, which are' as inconsistent with cultivated taste, as with Chris- tian simplicity and sobriety. On this point, my views have al- ready been expressed with sufficient distinctness, and they will appear more fully, in considering the appropriate style of ser- mons.* But certainly there is a decent regard to ornament, not beneath the dignity of the pulpit. Style may be both clear and forcible, while it is harsh and repulsive. The Chris- tian soldier, in fighting the battles of his Master, deserves no applause for the rust that covers his armour ; especially since the sword of truth suffers no abatement of its keenness or its strength by being polished. Why do we speak to others ? Not merely to instruct and convince them ; but also to persuade : — to conquer their preju- dices ; to rouse them from indolence to feeling and action. We must remember then, that we are not to address the understan- ding only. Every plain man has passions, and more or less of imagination. The leafless forests of December excite no such pleasing emotions in him, as he feels from the charms of spring and the rich foliage of summer. For the same reason, a dry and naked style interests him less, than one which possesses the * Sec Lectures on Homilelics etc. p. 172. 580 BEAUTY : HARMONY, spirit and vivacity of a just embellishment. We may appeal in this case to a higher authority than that of GreecS and Rome ; to the authority of our Saviour himself. Consistently with his exalted character as a divine teacher, he did not scruple to give an attractive dress to his public discourses. Nothing can sur- pass the simple beauty of his parables, in their adaptedness to fix attention and impress the heart. Under the head of beauty in writing, may, with sufficient accuracy for my present purpose, be comprehended harmony and elegance. I. Harmony. To analyze the principles of what the ancients called numer- ous composition, and their nice rules of measure, quantity, and cadence, might be amusing to the mere scholar, though it can scarcely deserve the serious attention of one who is to minis- ter in holy things. But to avoid that harshness which offends, and that monotony which tires the ear, is an object of no in- considerable importance to any one, who would convey his thoughts to others in the most interesting manner. This re- quires attention both to the selection of single words, and to their combination. As to the choice of words, Longinus says, — " it has a won- derful effect in winning upon an audience. It clothes a com- position in the most beautiful dress ; it animates our thoughts and inspires them vvith a sort of vocal life." On this point one general principle is to be regarded ; that whatever is uttered with difficulty, is painful to the hearer. The least attention to the analysis of letters, will show that some are long, others short ; some full and open, others narrow ; some soft and smooth, others hard and rough. It will follow, espe- cially in the combination of letters, that some will occasion very little, and others very great effort to the organs of speech. The flowing smoothness of certain celebrated passages in the Greek and Roman poets, is accounted for on this principle. On the same principle, we should avoid as far as possible an- other fault, to which our theological writers have a strong pro- BEAUTY : HARMONY. 581 pensity ; I mean such tedious and unseemly compounds as un- SMccessfulness , wrong-headedness, loorldly-mindedness. We may consider harmony as it is affected by the combina- tion of words, both in the composition of members, and in that arrangement of members, which forms a flowing period. The order of words in a member should be such as not to com- pel the vocal organs to pause betwixt sounds, where no pause is required by the sense. For the same reason that a collision of open vowels retards utterance, certain uncombinable consonants are spoken with great difficulty. Without considerable effort in articulation, the ear will not distinguish betwixt " his cry moved me" and " his crime moved me." A succession of monosyllables, as they occasion uniformity and great deliberation in utterance, renders style heavy. The effect is somewhat like that of placing an accent on each syllable of long words. So far as harmony depends on variety, a suc- cession of very long words must also be unfavorable. From the multiplicity of monosyllables in our language, the former fault is much more likely to occur than the latter. As an ex- ample of smooth construction arising from a proper combination of long and short words, this passage from an address of our Saviour may be mentioned ; " Consider the lilies, how they grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin ; and yet I say unto you that Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these." Another violation of harmony, arises from the recurrence of similar letters and sounds. This critics have called alliteration. Very little refinement of ear is necessary to perceive the defect in this sentence : " A division by various pauses, into proportion- ate clauses, causes the distinction of verse from prose." And this ; " A declamation on the state of the nation, contained this ob- servation.^' There is another kind of sentence, extremely common in careless composition, where the recurrence of similar sounds is combined with the heaviness of monosyllabic structure. There are two cases in which I have most frequently observed this of 74 582 BEAUTY : HARMONY. fence against good taste. One is when the construction is such as to require a reduplication of the ancient genitive case made in En glish by a preposition, or preposition and article. Example : " 1 was desirous q/" obtaining a sight of the splendor of the interior of the royal habitation, of which I had heard much." This clashing of particles is obviated at once by a trifling variation; — " I desired to see the splendid interior of the royal habitation." The other case is, where the construction is encumbered with particles, by the infinitive mood. Example : " I am ready frankly to say to all who wish to know my views to-day, who are willing to iveigh the force of argument now to be address- ed to them, and candidly to survey the whole ground; that I do avow the opinion ascribed to me." Let no one think because his pen is not likely to commit such extreme aberrations as these, that he needs no caution on this head. In its less obvious forms, this fault is more common per- haps, than any other of equal magnitude in style. In every such case, a writer may choose a better order of words, by a small change of structure, entirely consistent with the laws of perspicuity. The only remaining consideration, to be noticed in this con- nexion, is the influence oi accents. To this, however unimpor- tant it may seem, the charm of music and of verse, is in no small measure to be ascribed. Instead of minutely discussing this principle as affecting the beauty of language, I will only give an example. The following line of Pope is smooth, with an accent on every second syllable. " Some place the bliss in action, some in ease." Interrupt this order of accent, and the smoothness vanishes : thus — " Some in action place the bliss, some in ease." Ex- amine the finest sentences of Cicero or of Addison, and you find in them this metrical arrangement. Next to the proper order of words, as conducive to harmony, we may consider the disti-ibution of members in a sentence. A long sentence, if not clogged by needless words and bad BEAUTY : — ELEGANCE. 583 arrangement, is sonnetimes very perspicuous and forcible. But it must necessarily be difficult to pronounce, unless the pauses are properly distributed. In a long sentence, therefore, har- mony requires such an adjustment of parts, that the whole may preserve a just proportion, and be delivered without labour to the organs of speech. In sentences strictly periodic, caution in this respect, is especially necessary ; because if the length, or arrangement of pauses is such as to exhaust the breath, before the close ; the meaning of the whole is lost, when suspended, as it often is, upon the last member or word. Here, as in many other cases, the principles of good delivery are inseparably united with those of good composition. "They are counter- parts of one great operation of the human mind, namely, that of conveying the ideas and feelings of one man to another, with force, precision, and harmony." For the same reason that a good speaker will utter the close of a sentence with proper strength, inflection, and articulation ; a good writer will so ar- range his period, that it may be clear, smooth, and full in the conclusion. Having suggested these thoughts on the beauty of language as resulting h'om harmony, I proceed, II. to some remarks on Elegance. Melmoth, who is himself a distinguished model of composi- tion, observes, that certain writers " avoid all refinement in style, as unworthy a lover of truth and philosophy. Their sen- timents are sunk by the lowest expressions, and seem condem- ned to the first curse, of creeping on the ground all the days of their life." The chief characteristics of elegance are dignity and sim- plicity. Dignity forbids the use of vulgar and cant words, and phra- ses : for the obvious reason that on the principle of association, they suggest ideas inconsistent with the decorum of an elevated, and especially a religious discourse. On this account merely colloquial terms can scarcely be admitted into style. But this by no means implies that dignitv requires or admits an inflated 584 BEAUTY : ELEGANCE. diction, consisting of iiard, high-sounding words. For the rea- son just named, low and offensive images are improper. A preacher of bad taste might draw a Hvely picture of the plagues of Egypt J but the more exactly, and completely this represen- tation should be drawn, the more would it excite disgust. Where- as a just picture of the thunder, and hail storm, the slaughter of the first-born, or the overthrow of the host in the Red sea, would be dignified and even sublime. Simplicity is opposed more es^ec'xdWy io ostentation. I agree with Mr. Pope, that " No author is to be envied for such commendations as he may gain by that character of style, which his friends must agree together to call simplicity, and the rest of the world will call dulness. There is a graceful and digni- fied simplicity, as well as a bald and sordid one, which differ as much from each other as the air of a plain man from that of a clown. Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rustici- ty." In this view, all incongruity in the parts of a composition ; all parade of learning, or of peculiarity in sentiment ; all dis- play of art ; all pedantry, and pomp, and profusion of orna- ment in language, are inconsistent with simplicity. This rare excellence of style, is precisely that which every scribbler supposes he can imitate or excel, while its attainment is limited to superior genius and taste. I cannot better illustrate my meaning on this point than by a few examples. The first is an account of Cranmer's martyr- dom, as extracted from the " Fathers of the English Church."* " When he came to the place where the holy bishops, Latimer and Ridley were burnt before him for the confession of the truth ; kneeling down, he prayed to God ; and not tarrying in his prayers, putting off his garments to his shirt, he prepared himself to death. His shirt was made long, down to his feet ; his feet were bare ; likewise his head, when both his caps were off, was so bare, that not one hair could be seen upon it. There was an iron chain tied about Cranmer. And when the " Vol. 3. p. 50. BEAUTY : ELEGANCE. 585 wood was kindled, and the fire began to burn near him, stretching out his arm, he put his right hand into the flame, which he held so stedfast, (saving that once with the same hand, he wiped his face,) that all men might see his hand burned before his body was touched. His eyes were lifted up into heaven, and oftentimes he repeated, ' this hand hath offended; O this unworthy right hzud,^ so long as his voice would suffer him ; and using ofien the words of Stephen, ' Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,' — in the greatness of the flame, he gave up the ghost." Every one may see how easily this artless and tender narra- tive would be spoiled, by the addition of a few tawdry decora- tions. As it is, the whole transaction is brought before the eye as a vivid reality.* * The following picture of ihe plague in London in 1665, as a specimen of simple and impressive desci'ipiion, tiie editor ventures to add to the illustrations cited by the author. — " In its malignity it engrossed the ills of all other maladies, and made doctors despicable. Of a potency equal to death, it possessed itself of all his armories, and was itself the death of every other mortal distemper. The touch, yea the very sight of the infected was deadly : and its signs were so sudden, that families seated in happiness at their meals, saw the plague spot begin to redden, and wildly scattered themselves forever. The cement of society was dissolved by it. Mothers, when they saw the sign of infection on the babes at their bosom, cast them from thetn with abhorrence. Wild places were sought for shelter — some went into ships and anchored themselves afar on the waters. — But the an- gel that was pouring the vial, had a foot on the seas, as well as on the dry land. No place was so wild that the plague did not visit it, none so secret that the quick sighted pestilence did not discover — none could fly that it did not overtake. It was as if Heaven had re[>ented the making of mankind, and was shovelling them all into the sepulchre. — Justice was forgotten, and her courts deserted. The terrified jailers fled froui the felons that were in fetters — the imiocont and the guilty leagued themselves to- gether, and kept within their prison for safety — the grass grew tn markd places — the cattle went moaning u[) and down the fields, wondering what had become of their keepers — the rooks and the ravens came into towu and built nests in the mute belfries — silence was imiversal, save when some infected wretch was seen clamouring at a window. For a lime, all conmicrce was in coffins and shrouds: — but even thai ended. Slirifis there were none ; churches and chapels were 580 BEAUTY : KLKGANCE. But incomparably the finest specimens of noble simplicity are found in the sacred writings. Take for example the story of aged Eli, watching, hoping, trembling, at the gate of the city, while he expected every moment to hear the result of a great battle. The messenger arrives from the army — you see the tumult, and hear the outcry in the city ; you see the agitation of a man ninety-eight years old, the father and the judge of the people ; while it is announced — " Israel is fled before the Philistines ; — there hath been a great slaughter among the people ; — thy two sons also, Hophni and Phinehas are dead, — and the ark of God is taken." You see the patri- arch sink under the weight of this intelligence, drop from his seat, and expire. Take another example from the account which the Evange- list gives of our Lord's resurrection. "Behold, there was a open, but neither priest iior penitent entered : all went to the charnel- house. The sexton and the physicians were cast into the same deep and wide grave ; the testator and his heirs and executors were hurled from the same cart into the same hole together. Fires became ex- tinguished, as their element too had expired — the seams of the sailor- less ships yawned to the sun. Though doors were open, and coffers unwatched, there was no theft; — all offences ceased, and nought but the universal wo of the pestilence was heard of among men. The wells overflowed, and conduits ran to waste : the dogs banded themselves together, having lost their masters, and ran howling over all the land ; horses perished of famine in their stalls — old friends but looked at one another when they met, keeping themselves far aloof- little children went wandering up and down : numbers were seen dead in all corners. Nor was it only in England that the plague so raged. It travelled over a third part of the whole earth, like the shadow of an eclipse, as if some dreadful thing had interposed be- tween the world and the sun, the source of life. At that epoch, for a short time, there was a silence, and every per- son in the street for a moment stood still ; and London was as dumb as a church-yard. Again the sound of the bell was heard — for it was the sound, so long unheard, which arrested the fugitive multitude and caused their silence. At the third toll a universal shout arose, as when the herald proclaims the tidings of a great battle won, and then there was a second silence. The i)eoi)le fell on their knees, and with anthems of thankfulness rejoiced in the dismal sound of that tolling death bell : for it was a signal of the plague being so abated that men might again mourn for their friends, and hallow their remains with the solemnities of burial." BEAUTY : ELEGANCE. 587 great earthquake ; for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it. His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow. And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men !" Here is not one swelling word, and yet the representation is so perfect that it carries us to the spot, and makes us spectators of the scene. The same simplicity appears in the correspondent narrative of another Evangelist, which is still more delicately minute and interest- ing. In reading it, you see the affectionate Mary, on the morning of the third day, while it was dark, visiting the sepul- chre. The stone is rolled away ; — she runs to Peter and John. They set out together in haste, — John outruns Peter, comes to the sepulchre, looks in, and wonders ; Peter arrives, and with his characteristic ardor goes in, — examines the linen clothes, and the napkin folded by itself; — John assumes courage, and goes in also; the body of Jesus is gone; they slowly retire, meditating on this scene of mystery and amazement. In the mean time, Mary returns, weeping. The narrative proceeds ; " And as she wept, she stooped down and looked into the sepulchre, and seeth two angels in white, sitting the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. And they say unto her, woman, why weepest thou ? She saith unto them, because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him. And when she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus saith unto her. Woman, why weepest thou ? — whom seekest thou ? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take hirn away. Jesus saith unto her, Mary : she turned herself and saith unto him, Rabboni ! which is to say. Master." Here is no effort at display : all is unaffected simplicity. And yet to any man, I will not say who has re6nement of taste, but to any man who has a heart, th'is painting must be exquisite. He seems to hear every vvord that is spoken. He is there him- 588 BEAUTY : ELEGANCE. self; sees every motion, every look : — sees the tears of Mary, her heart now agitated with the hurry of surprise, now melting with the anguish of grief, and then, bursting with astonishment and joy, to see her beloved Saviour alive again. It is proper here to make a remark, which will be more fully illustrated in another place, that real passion never utters itself with studied ornament. Let an artificial writer describe to you the grief of a father for the loss of his son, and he will probably do it with frigid brilliancy of epithets. But let the father himself speak, and you hear the language of the heart : " O my son Absalom ! — my son, — my son Absalom ! Would God I had died /or thee, O Absalom, my son, my son." To conclude ; An elegant writer possesses something more than that sprightliness of fancy, which substitutes pertness and brilliancy for simplicity and good sense. He possesses genius, sensibility, and cultivated taste. It is this character, in an eminent degree, which Cicero ascribes to Caesar, in the re- mark on his Commentaries ; that " while he seemed only to furnish others with materials for writing a history, he discour- aged all wMse men from attempting to write on the same sub- ject." If I were to give a summary description of an elegant style, I would say, it is that which expresses the best thoughts in the fittest language ; with neither exuberance nor defect. It has regularity without stiffness, sprightliness without levity, light without glare, ease without carelessness, and dignity without os- tentation. LECTURE VIII. STYLE. SUBLIMITY. I proceed in this Lecture, to some remarks on suhlimity of style. Longinus, whose treatise on this subject has been universal- ly regarded as possessing a standard authority, says, " that per- formance which does not transport the soul, can never be the true sublime. That, on the contrary, is grand and lofty, whose force we cannot withstand ; which sinks deep, and makes such impressions on the mind as cannot be easily effaced." Accord- ingly subsequent writers have defined sublimity as not merely an exhibition of great objects with a magnificent display of im- agery and diction ; but that force of composition, which strikes and overpowers the mind, which excites the passions, and which expresses ideas at once with perspicuity and elevation. As an example of this, Quinctihan mentions Cicero's eulogi- um on Pompey the great, in his defence of Cornelius Balbus ; in which the orator was interrupted by cries and clapping of hands. The splendor, and majesty, and authority of his elo- quence, forced from his auditors a spontaneous burst of enthu- siasm, which suspended reason, and made them forget them- selves and the dignity of the place. As a quality of style, sublimity consists either in thought or expression. It consists primarily and chiefly in thotight. One might suppose this to be so nearly self evident as to re- quire no illustration, if the eloquence of words had not been so commonly mistaken for that of sentiment. And yet it is ex- 76 590 SUBLIMITY OF THOUGHT. tremely plain that a low or trifling thought never seizes, nor awes, nor influences nor melts any man, with whatever pomp of lan- guage it is expressed. On the contrary, a great thought fills and elevates the mind, though expressed in the simplest words. Take as an example of this, the passage from Moses, which Longinus and other critics have quoted; " God said, let there be light, and there was light." Here is no effort at elevation of language, but the thought is great ; it fills the mind with an awful impression of divine power. With the same majestic simplicity, Christ calls a dead man from the grave ; " Lazarus, come forth :" and hushes a tempest ; " Peace, be still." That sublimity does not consist chiefly in words, is evident from the fact, that its highest impression may be felt, where words are not used. The expanse of the ocean, the canopy of heaven,* an aged forest, a precipice, a mountain hiding its head in the clouds, convey to the mind an impression of majesty, which no articulate language can express. The transparent rivulet is simply beautiful ; — the Nile or the Amazon, rolling on its flood of waters, is sublime. The gentle blaze of a candle is beautiful ; the blaze of jEtna, of a comet, or of the sun, is sublime. In surveying these, the mind constantly feels the impression of great and amazing objects. The warbling of a flute is beauti- ful ; but the roaring of a tempest, the thunder of Niagara, or the concussion of an earthquake, is sublime. The same principle holds respecting the sublime in composi- tion, as Horace proposes for the trial of poety. " Transpose the words, drop measure and number ; and if the passage really possesses the acer spiritus ac vis, the glow and inspiration of poetry, all your inversions will not extinguish it ; but like a dia- mond unset, it will retain its lustre." Warton, in his elegant treatise on Pope, applies this principle to distinguish betwixt rhyme or measure and poetry. " Take ten lines of the Iliad or of Paradise Lost, or even of the Georgics of Virgil, and see whether by any critical chemistry, you can reduce them to the * Se6 Ps. XIX. SUBLIMITY OF LANGUAGE. 591 lameness of prose. You will find that they will appear like Ulysses, in his disguise of rags, — still a hero." Having made these remarks on sublimity of sentiment, we are prepared to proceed another step, and inquire what consti- tutes sublimity of language. This consists in such a choice, and such an arrangement of words, as are adapted to convey a great thought to the mind with a strong and vivid impression. To accomplish this end, re- quires a careful application of the precepts which have been suggested in my preceding Lectures, upon perspicuity, strength, and beauty of style. Instead of repeating these precepts, T shall only glance at the inquiry, whether vigorous and noble conceptions in a writer, can be cultivated ; and whether these, where they do exist, will of course be attended by a correspondent strength and dignity of expression. In respect to the first part of this inquiry, it is an obvious re- mark, that bold conception is the prerogative of genius. But as every power of the soul is strengthened by exercise, the contem- plation of great objects must have a direct tendency to invigorate the intellect and the imagination. The great practical defect in systems of education has always been, that they contemplate the pupil as passive, or at most fill his mind with technical distinc- tions. They woidd form a writer, as a mechanic forms a bureau. Whereas the first thing should be to replenish the mind, and train it to habits of clear, discriminating, and elevated thought. As to the other branch of the inquiry, I remark that style, being only a copy of the writer's mind, will be governed by his thoughts ; ' for thoughts make language, and mould it to their own size.' In general, it may be said that the mind which rises to a strain of exalted sentiment, will not utter that sentiment in tame and feeble language. ' The soul may labor with the greatness of its conceptions, and find it difficult to select words adapted to express these with the highest colouring and effect ; but still the words that are chosen, whether with the greatest propriety or not, will receive force and elevation from the sentiment. A 693 SOURCES OF SUBLIMITY. sublime thought may indeed be debased by defective expres- sion ; but when the mind is filled with an exalted conception, there is no reason to expect that it can fail of finding suitable words to delineate that conception, with a good degree of en- ergy and dignity.' * " It is the sentiment," says Pope. " that swells and fills out the diction, which rises with it, and forms itself about it : and in the same degree that a thought is warmer, an expression will be brighter ; as that is more strong, this will become more perspi- cuous ; like glass in the furnace, which grows to a greater mag- nitude, and refines to a greater clearness, only as the breath within is more powerful, and the heat more intense." When- ever a writer who has had bold and elevated thoughts, fails of clothing them in appropriate words, it must be attributed either to the poverty of the language in which he writes, or to igno- rance of that language, or to a want of the skill in using words, which is acquired only by practice. I cannot do justice even to the limited view, which I propose to take of this subject, without pointing out some of the sources from which the mind receives the most vivid impressions of sub- limity. Among these may be mentioned. First, Association. The tendency of this to increase our susceptibility of emo- tion from interesting objects, must have been perceived by every one who is accustomed to notice the operations of the mind. Through the medium of the affections, we are strong- ly excited by seeing the place of our nativity, and the scenes of our childhood ; by recollecting a deceased friend, the tune which he sung, the garment which he wore, the spot where he breathed his last. In connexion with this kind of emotion, may be mentioned that which arises from contemplating what is ancient, or rare, or venerable. The sight of Jerusalem would strongly interest any one, who has the least sensibility of taste, or of piety. He would eagerly survey the ground on See Ogilvie on Original Composition, 2. 160. SOURCKS or SUBLIMITY. 593 which David and Solomon walked ; and feel enchained with a sort of sacred awe to the spot where the cross was erected, and where the Saviour was entombed. It was through an abuse of this principle, strengthened indeed by others, that the whole system of relics was established : that the world was taxed for ages, by the fooleries of Romish superstition ; and that Europe marched in arms on a crusade to the Holy Land. We feel our sensibilities awakened by the sight of objects, which are associated with impressions of distinguished excel- lence, or of great intellectual endowments, or great achieve- ments. A few years since, any person might have passed the bridge of Beresina, or the village of Waterloo, with perfect in- difference. But now the sight of those objects must suggest a train of elevated emotions, that must swell and agitate any bosom, not altogether insensible to scenes of horror and blood, on which were fixed the anxious eyes of the civilized world. It is from the same principle that the friend of his country ap- proaches, with sentiments of veneration, the grave of Washing- ton : and that the man of classical taste, derives more than half his interest in visiting Rome, from the recollection of Scipio, and Caesar, and Cicero. Certain emotions of sublimity depend on associations of ma- jesty connected with danger. The picture of a shipwreck is sublime : the sight of a real shipwreck is much more so. But how different the emotions with which a stranger sees the ma- riners clinging to fragments amidst the dashing waves, from the emotions of the mother, whose son is one of these mariners. A little reflection may satisfy any one, how much the dread- ful grandeur attendant upon the havoc of a tornado, the explo- sion of thunder, or the rumbling of an earthquake is heightened by apprehensions of danger. Secondly, Another source from which impressions of sublim- ity are derived, is contrast. This indeed, is often only a more remote kind of association ; but it has a powerful effect to enliven and elevate a sentiment. A few examples may be selected for illustration. Dr. Young, 594 SOURCES OF SUBLIMITY. at the commencement of his Night Thoughts, — a poem which in single passages of sublimity, has perhaps never been surpassed, thus addresses Jehovah ; "O thou, whose word, from solid darkness, struck That spark the suru'' By thus representing the resplendent luminary of the heav- ens as a spark, struck out by the Creator, his power and great- ness are better exhibited than could have been done by any de- tail of language. So the majesty of the suffering Saviour is ex- pressed, with great sublimity in a single line : — " He weeps, — the falling drop puts out the sun." Herodotus says that when Xerxes, from a hill near the Hel- lespont, reviewed his vast army and navy, saw the sea covered with his ships, and the shores and plains full of men, he wept, to think that those multitudes would all be dead, within a hun- dred years. The dignity of the thought lies in contrasting all this bustle and effort with the silence of the grave. The same historian, in describing the battle of Thermopylae, exhibits a noble thought in the form of contrast. " A Spartan was told that when they should engage in battle there would be no chance of success ; because the darts of the enemy would fly so thick as to hide the sun. He replied, — " Then we shall Jight in the shadeJ'^ But incomparably the finest example of sublimity in sentiment, that can be named under this head, is the language of Christ, when instead of imprecating vengeance on his cruci- fiers, or striking them dead by his own omnipotence, he prayed : " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." The vivacity of what is called the picturesque is often chief- ly the effect of contrast. Thus we are impressed with the grandeur of a vast mountain, not so much by an elaborate de- scription of its size and altitude, as by some single stroke, which shows us its lofty head, reared above the clouds ; or the stately ' cedar on its top, dwindled to a shrub ; or the eagle hovering like a speck above its summit.' It is only to be added on this particular, that sublimity, in such cases, arises from contrast of SOURCES OF SUBLIMITT. 595 thought, and not from that antithesis of words, which in its ex- cessive use, denotes a bad taste, and is one characteristic of a pert and puerile writer. LECTURE IX. STYLE. SUBLIMITY CONTINUED. I proceed in this Lecture to say, Thirdly, that impressions of sublimity, are greatly promoted by a proper use of Figures. It comes not within my design, here to exhibit the general rules concerning the use of figures, as these are contained in books, to which every student has access ; — much less shall I enter into the endless distinctions of technical rhetoric. I shall not even notice the common distinction betwixt tropes 2l\\^ fig- ures, because the obscurity with which it has been treated by the most accurate writers, shows it to be nearly useless. The subject of figures deserves to be discussed more largely than is proper in this place. At present such remarks must suffice, as may be introductory to examples under this head. For whatever purpose a figure is employed, three things are important : First, that the object for which it is taken be famil- iarly known ; Secondly, that it be elevated ; and Thirdly, that it be clearly presented to the mind. If the figure is drawn from some object that we never saw, or from some fact or usage of which we have no knowledge, it is like words quoted from an unknown tongue, without meaning to us. But it is not enough that this object be familiar, — it must be one that we can contemplate with pleasure and not with disgust, or the figure has no dignity. And this object must be presented, not obscurely, so as to be but half percevied, as things appear through a misty atmosphere ; — it must be seen instantly and perfectly, or the figure has no vivacity. SOURCES OF SUBLIMITY : FIGURES. 697 Of all figures, comparison is perhaps the most natural. When this is expressed without those words which denote resemblance, it is a metaphor ; as " God is a rock." When these words are used, it is a simile, — " God is like a rock." When the comparison extends to many particulars, it is an allegory. High passion breaks out in metaphor, but does not express itself in the more artificial forms of simile and allegory. The power of a metaphor to raise and impress a sentiment consists chiefly, as Cicero says, " in its exciting new ideas, without leading oft' the mind from the main subject ; and its being addressed to the senses, especially to the sight, which is the keenest of them all. And the most elegant of modern writers says ; " a noble metaphor, when it is planned to advantage, casts a kind of glory round it, and darts a lustre through a whole sentence." Melmoth produces an example of fine imagery, from a little poem which exhibits great strength of thought and diction ; in which the au- thor, recommending to persons in feeble health, a vigorous bod- ily exercise, as a remedy for melancholy, says ; " Throw but a stone, tlie giant dies." Here the vivacity of the metaphor is greatly increased by its happy allusion to the story of David and Goliah. The ima- ges are clear and bold in the following allegory, contained in a speech of Philip of Macedon. " I see a cloud of war rising in Italy. I perceive a storm big with thunder and lightning, gath- ering in the west, which wherever the hurricane of victory shall carry it, will fill all places with a shov^er of blood." The author of Paradise Lost, in a single sentence, thus de- scribes the shield of Satan, and shows us this "archangel ru- ined"— treading on the burning lake. — "his ponderous shield Behind him cast, — the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders, like the moon." Here a noble image is presented in the smiplest words, not one of which can be omitted or transposed without injury to the sense. The battle of angels is described with such a profusion 76 598 SOURCES OF SUBLIMITY ! FIGURES. of grand and astonishing images, that one is at a loss which to select. The poet shows us Satan staggering away from the stroke of Abdiel's sword ; — " as if on earth Winds under ground, or waters forcing way, Sidelong liad pushed a niountain from his seat, Half sunk, with all his pines." The description proceeds : "Now storming fury rose, And clamor, such as heard in Heaven till now. Was never: Arms, on armour clashing, bray'd Horrible discord, and the madding wheels Of brazen chariots rag'd ; dire was the noise Of conflict ; — over head the dismal hiss Of fiery darts, in flaming vollies flew, And flying, vaulted either host with fire." In the progress of the battle, Michael and Satan met. The majesty of these mighty combatants is thus expressed by metaphor : " two broad suns their shields Blaz'd opposite, while expectation stood In horror." At last the daring imagination of the poet describes the vic- tory of the angels, over the rebel host, with a sublimity of conception altogether his own. " Light as the lightning glimpse, they ran, they flew; From their foundations loos'iiing to and fro, They plucked the seated hills, with all their load. Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops Uplifting, bore them in their hands."* My time will not allow but one more example from Milton, which eminently combines the grand with the beautiful ; and that whether we regard the thought or the expression. It de- scribes the return of the Creator to heaven, after the formation of this world. * Book VI. SOURCES OF SUBLIMITY .* FIGURES. 599 "Up he rode, Follow'd with acclamation, and the sound, Symphouious of ten thousand harps, that tuned Angehc harmonies ; the earth, the air Resounded, The heavens and all the constellations rung, The planets, in their stations, listening stood, While the hright pomp ascended jubilant. Open, ye everlasting gates, — they sung Open ye heavens, your living doors, let in The great Creator, from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, — a world !" On these examples of sublimity, I subjoin no remarks, ex- cept the tribute paid to the genius of their author, by Lord Lyttleton, the younger, a libertine in morals, but one whose opinions in matters of taste are entitled, as all will admit, to very high respect. " Of all the poets, says he, that have graced ancient times, or delighted the latter ages, Milton is my favourite. I think him superior to every other, and the writer of all others best calculated to elevate the mind, to form a nobleness of taste, and to teach a bold, commanding, and ener- getic language." He remarks, that while he was a mere boy, his father observed him, in reading the Paradise Lost, suddenly to lay down the book, and walk the room with violence. The passage that produced the emotion was this : "He spake: — and to confirm iiis words, out flew Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty Cherubim : the sudden blaze Far round illumined Hell." " To attain a reputation for eloquence, he adds, is my aim, and my ambition ; and, if I should acquire the art of clothing my thoughts in happy language, adorning them with striking images, or enforcing them by commanding words, I shall be in- debted for such advantages to the study of our great British Classic." I shall take notice of but one more kind of figure, as pecu- GOO SOURCES OF SUBLIMITY : FIGURES. liarly adapted to the expression of thought with great animation and dignity, and this is personification. Nothing can exceed the bold and splendid imagery which is often employed in those Psalms which celebrate the triumphs of the King of Zion. In a single sentence of the Psalm that commemorates the deliverance of Israel from Egypt, are ex- hibited those grand events, in which the mighty hand and strong arm of Jehovah were employed for the rescue and protection of his church. " When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange language, Judah was his sanc- tuary and Israel his dominion." Then comes a burst of ab- rupt and magnificent imagery, which has no parallel, as to sub- limity, in the highest flights of ancient poets and orators. " The sea saw it and fled ; Jordan was driven back. The mountains skipped like rams, and the little hills like lambs. What ailed thee, O thou sea, that thou fleddest ? Thou Jordan, that thou wast driven back ? Ye mountains, that ye skipped like rams, and ye little hills like lambs ? Tremble, thou earth, at the pres- ence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob." In this cluster of figures, we have personification, simile, and apos- trophe blended without confusion, and adapted to fill the mind with exquisite emotion. In the same style of energetic personification, Isaiah makes rocks, woods, floods, and mountains, live, and speak, and act. " Sing, O heavens, and be joyful, O earth, and break forth into singing, O mountains ; for the Lord hath comforted his people, and will have mercy on his afflicted." And again ; " The mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into sing- ing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." There is inexpressible grandeur, in this glow of the prophet's soul, while he contemplates the prosperity of the church, and the glories of her King : and thus summons the inanimate creation to break forth into joy, and swell the universal chorus of praise. The 14th chapter of Isaiah contains a sort of triumphal ode, on the excision of the king of Babylon, concerning which bish- op Lovvth says, " Therei s no piece of Grecian or Roman poetry. SUBLIMITY : CAUTIONS. 601 (to speak my mind freely,) that may once pretend to stand a comparison vvitii its merit." The same sublimity of concep- tion appears in Habakkuk, when he ascribes to the ocean the properties of animated being, and gives it language and action, to express its emotions at the presence of Jehovah : " The deep uttered his voice, and lifted up his hands on high." Homer abounds in personification. In his language, " an arrow is impatient to be on the wing, a weapon thirsts for the blood of an enemy." But we may say perhaps in sober truth, (what Barrow said rather enthusiastically in behalf of his favor- ite Milton,) that in comparison with the noble and daring ima- ges of the sacred writers : — "the muse of Homer sung of frogs, And Virgil's, only celebrated ^les." 1 shall class the remaining observations, which I have to offer on this subject, under three heads oicaution. l^he first is, where sublimity depends on figurative represen- tation, be careful to avoid improper selection or application of images. The most venial fault of this sort, is that which consists in mix- ing plain language with figurative. This when conducted with skill, may not only be tolerated, but may sometimes contribute to heighten the effect. But as generally used, it results from confusion of thought, and is found only in a careless and inco- herent style. It is a fault of the same sort, but much greater, when incon- sistent figures are blended in the same representation. Thus we are sometimes exhorted from the pulpit to " cultivate hu- mility as an essential branch of a Christian's ivalk ;^^ — to ^^ avoid pride as a root from which many evilsj^oi^;;" — and to be careful that we are " safely anchored upon the rock of sal- vation." Dr. Young, who commonly employs figures with great judgment and strength, fails, in representing the good man as having. "One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven." 602 SUBLIMITY : CAUTIONS. The two hands may be occupied at the same instant, with two distinct and contrary objects ; but it is never so with the two eyes, except in cases of distempered vision. The best rule by which to try the simphcity of a figure, is that recommended by Horace, to which I have already had occasion to allude. Draw out a picture to the eye, and then its incongru- ities will at once be detected. Addison says ; — " I have known a hero compared to a thunderbolt, a lion, and the sea ; all and each of them proper metaphors for impetuosity, courage, and force. But by bad management, it hath so happened, that the thunderbolt hath overflowed its banks, the lion hath been dart- ed through the skies, and the billows have rolled out of the Ly- bian desert."* Caution is necessary, in employing personification and apos- trophe, to avoid all appearance of study and artifice. The dig- nity of the subject must justify the figure; and its inspiration must kindle the soul to a noble enthusiasm. I know of no bet- ter example to illustrate my meaning, than that given by the in- fidel Hume, from the close of a sermon, which he heard deliv- ered by Whitefield ; and which he said, accompanied as it was with the most animated and perfect action, surpassed any thing he ever saw or heard in the pulpit. The preacher after a sol- emn pause, thus addressed his numerous audience ; — " The at- tendant angel is just about to leave the threshold and ascend to heaven. And shall he ascend, and not bear with him the news of one sinner among all this multitude, reclaimed from the er- ror of his ways ?" Then he lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven, stamped with his foot, and with gushing tears, cried aloud ; — Stop, Gabriel ! — stoi), Gabriel ! — stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and yet carry with you the tidings of one sin- ner converted to God." Then turning to his hearers, in the most simple but energetic language, he described a Saviour's dying love. The effect was electrical ; the assembly melted into tears.f * Spect. No. 595. f Though this passage has been cited by Dr. Porter in another connexion, it cannot well bo omitted here. SUBLIMITY : CAUTIONS. G03 Such an apostrophe, when the subject, the occasion, and the powers of the speaker, justify its use, reaches the very highest point of eloquence. But let a cold and artificial declaimer, up- on an ordinary topic, venture on such an effort, and it is not difficult to foresee the result. Mediocrity of talents is certain to fail in an attempt, where it is the province only of uncommon genius, in its happiest moments, to succeed. And it should not be forgotten that failure here is certainly ridiculous. There is one point in regard to the abuse of figiu-es, which must not be passed over, namely improper jn'otraction. In the bold and vehement figures, just now under considera- tion, a pilch of excitement is requisite, so high that it cannot be sustained, even by the best powers of oratory, except for a short period. But in figures of a less decisive character, too much minuteness and attenuation often spoil the effect. It is to be regretted that false taste in this respect, so often appears in the pulpit. When the Bible says, " God is a rock, — God is a sun :" a simple and noble thought is suggested by the metaphor. But when the preacher runs down this metaphor into minor points of resemblance, which the Spirit of inspira- tion never intended, not only is the strength of the figure ruin- ed ; but it is made to suggest sentiments that are frivolous, and often impious.* I shall take the liberty to illustrate this point by an extract from the Essays of Foster, because it is so perti- nent to my purpose, and because I am glad to enforce my own views in the present case, by the aid of so respectable a writer. " I do not recollect, says he, that in the New Testament at least, the metaphor which represents the benefits of religion un- der the image of food is ever drawn to a great length. But from the facility of the process, it is not strange that it has been amplified both in books and discourses, into the most extended description ; and the dining room has been exhausted of ima- ges, and the language ransacked for substantives and adjectives to stimulate the spiritual palate. The metaphor is combined * See Gibbon's Rhetoric. 604 SUBLIMITY : CAUTIONS. with so many terms in our language, that it will sometimes un- avoidably occur, and when employed in the simplest and short- est form, it may by transiently suggesting the analogy, assist the thought, without lessening the subject. But it is degrading to spiritual ideas to be extensively and systematically transmuted, I might even say cooked into sensual ones. The analogy be- twixt mean things and dignified ones, should never be pursued further than one or two points of necessary illustration ; for if it is traced to every circumstance, in which a resemblance can be found or fancied, the mean thing no longer serves the hum- ble and useful purpose of merely illustrating some qualities of the great one, but becomes formally its representative and equal. By their being made to touch at all points, the meaner is consti- tuted a scale to measure and to limit the magnitude of the su- perior, and thus the importance of the one shrinks to the insig- nificance of the other. It will take some time for a man to re- cover any great degree of solemnity in thinking on the dehghts or the supports of religion, after he has seen them reduced in- to all the forms of eating and drinking. In such amplified an- alogies, it often happens that the most fanciful, or that the coars- est points of resemblance remain longest in the thoughts."* My second caution is, — in aiming at the sublime, avoid the tumid. A great thought expressed in appropriate language is sublimi- ty ; a trite or trifling thought, dressed up in the pomp of splen- did words is bombast. Though it is the province of good sense to distinguish betwixt these opposite qualities of style, and though it would seem no difficult task to a cultivated taste, to make a distinction betwixt things so obviously different ; yet the resemblance is sometimes so specious as to deceive, at first view, the most discerning mind. The young writer therefore, whose fancy is easily caught with the glare of superficial orna- ment, needs to be especially on his guard, lest he attempt to el- evate a trivial subject by gaudy decorations of style, and utter nonsense in the form of elaborate periods. * Bost. Ed. p. 188. SUBLIMITY : — CAUTIONS. G05 But as this inflated style has already been considered, it may be dismissed here with the single remark, — that the student who would form a good style, should not cultivate a fondness for works of a declamatory character ; but should accustom himself to accuracy of thought, — should distinguish between words and things, between the affectation of elevated sentiment, and the reality. This leads to My third caution, which is, — in avoiding the tumid, be care- ful not to adopt the frigid style. The principles of just criticism, are only a digest of the laws which nature has established in the use of language. Its object is rather to preserve from blemishes, than to inspire genius. A cultivated judgment is to a writer, what the helm is to the ship. Genius is the moving principle : but without the aid of its sober auxiliary, judgment, it is always liable to dash on the rocks. Longinus says ; " The sublime is not lawless, but delights in a proper regulation. Flights of grandeur are then in the utmost danger, when they are left at random, and bold without discre- tion. Genius may sometimes need the spur, but it as frequent- ly needs the curb." But while the great principles of style like those of the other fine arts, are reducible to permanent canons, which cannot be safely disregarded, we should avoid that servile conformity to rules, which degenerates into a mere mechanical accuracy. Addison says ; "we often take notice of men, who are perfect- ly accquainted with all the rules of good writing, and notwith- standing choose to depart from them on extraordinary occa- sions. There is more beauty in the works of a great genius, who is ignorant of the rules of art, than in those of a little ge- nius, who knows and observes them." Addison himself, how- ever, has illustrated the refrigerant influence of extreme atten- tion to principles of art, in his Cato. Voltaire admitted this char- acter to be the greatest that was ever brought upon any stage. Yet this character, with all its elaborate perfection, is cold and uninteresting. You fall asleej), while you contemplate the nicely balanced unities of Cato. But Shakspeare, who has 60G sublimity: — cautions. been called the stumbling block of critics, while he sets before you in the character of Hamlet or Othello, a combination of dignity and eccentricity, of mildness and violence, agitates your bosom with alternate emotions of love and indignation, of com- passion and horror. The sum of my meaning under this head is, that though we should avoid the affectation, which claims as the prerogative of superior genius, exemption from all laws of criticism and of common sense ; we should also avoid that habit of rigid exact- ness, which while it regulates, extinguishes the ardor of the soul. END. € "T^^'T 4^'^ M ,v f^ ji£iliife«^\^Aja