its defence, quoting what the learned Calvin and Augustine said, and then the inspired Paul, as if he would fasten it on his people's minds with rivets of iron; then he turned round for several sabbaths, and gave the strongest objections, quoting what the learned Episcopius said, and the learned Whitby, and especially those passages of scripture which imply the obligations of morality and the freedom of man; then he left the people to remember, weigh, and judge. The consequence was, they were in a blue maze: they hardly knew what to think. They said it was a great and awful subject; and this was, perhaps, the very impression the preacher designed to make. Now I will not contend that this is the best way to bring a people to a knowledge of the truth; but with such a curious mind as the speaker possessed, what could he have done better? He gave his people food for meditation; and, however imperfect his faith, he made a noble attempt to sound the depths of our being. How much better than that superficial matter, which is so obvious that no one regards it.' And yet the obvious bearing of simple principles must not be neglected. It is a great art to make the hortatory part of preaching impressive. It is the end and upshot of all principle. It is too often the case that the man that is successful in doctrinal discussion acquires an exclusive taste for it, and becomes negligent and weak when he passes into the practical part of his preaching. Let him resemble the oak, which, though yearly it swells and strengthens its massy trunk and branches, never fails to clothe their rigor with the trembling leaves of a living vegetation. It requires as much Far be it from me to wish to depreciate this simple-hearted and wise man; and more wise because he was so simple-hearted. A selection of his writings has been published by President Felton. His criticism on the Greek Tragedies is the most curious specimen in the English language. Two currents are running in opposite directions in his mind, a deep veneration for the traditional opinion, and an individual impression of his own, which it distresses him to present. His watch-word seems to be, "I almost half think that these great men are not quite right. I seem to think it may be otherwise." One cannot help smiling, when almost the first word that meets him in his Latin preface to the third volume of the Graeca Majora, is opinamur. talent, perhaps more, to write an effective sermon on candor, meekness, patience, contentment, justice, fidelity, as on the higher points of systematic theology. These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone. Like Sampson, the champion must get hold of the two pillars on which the house stands, and thus kill the Philistines. This part of the work demands great effort, and should be studied. The union of these departments gives vigor to both. Practical preaching has double power when it grows out of fundamental principles. We must study the practical part in our own hearts and in the wants of our people. But it is well also to study models. One of the most beautiful is Dr. Evans, of London, “Discourses concerning the Christian Temper." They are written with a severe simplicity, but great strength. Two other models may be mentioned, because their comparison and contrast are more instructive than their separate impression. I allude to Jeremy Taylor and Richard Baxter, both of them writers of great copiousness of matter, and endless profusion of illustration. But what a difference! What superiority in the rich simplicity of one over the hothouse abundance of the other! I never could accept the character with which Taylor has been delivered to us. He is never self-forgetful; he always detains you on the image; he plays his corruscations before you as Whipple would his dissolving-views; and you always admire the robe, without thinking of the form that wears it. Now whatever Taylor was, Baxter was not; so unconscious in his art, so negligent in his profusion; snatching you, in a chariot of gems, to the goal of the journey you are impatient to finish. Perhaps it may assist us to put Taylor in his right place, to see how his ornaments struck his cotemporaries. Dr. South has characterized him without calling him by name; and though South was a sullen man, he was a true critic. He never minced matters. In his eleventh sermon, fifth volume, preached on Ascension day, April 30th, 1668, speaking on simplicity in preaching the gospel, he says, "I speak the words of truth and soberness,' said Paul,' and 'I preach 1 Acts xxvi. 25. the gospel, not with the enticing words of man's wisdom." This was the way of the apostle's discharging of things sacred. Nothing here of the fringes of the north star; nothing of nature's becoming unnatural; nothing of the down of angels' wings, or the beautiful locks of cherubims; no starched similitudes, introduced with a thus have I seen a cloud rolling in its airy mansion, and the like. No, these were sublimities above the rise of the apostolic spirit. The apostles, poor mortals, were content to take lower steps, and to tell the world, in plain terms, that he who believed should be saved, and that he who believed not should be damned. And this was the dialect which pierced the conscience, and made the hearers cry out, Men and brethren, what shall I do? It tickled not the ear, but sunk into the heart; and when nien came from such sermons, they never commended the preacher for his taking voice or gesture; for the fineness of such a simile, or the quaintness of such a sentence; but they spoke like men conquered with the overpowering force and evidence of the most concerning truths; much in the words of the two disciples going to Emmaus: Did not our hearts burn within us, while he opened to us the scriptures?" I pass over the various topics suggested by the clouds and sunshine of passing events, all of which must have some utterance from the pulpit; though every pious preacher will abjure that poverty of mind which regards a storm or the explosion of a steamboat, or an accident on a railroad, as a sort of God-send to eke out subjects for popular attraction. I hasten to notice another mode of preaching once current, now too much neglected; a mode most likely to secure to the humblest invention the riches of the Bible: the art of expounding. Our early fathers thought much of this; but it has of late years very strangely fallen into disuse, to the great detriment both of ministers and people. The pulpit has lost one of 11 Cor. ii. 4. * Remark how the excess and absurdity of Taylor's expressions are increased by being insolated and separated from the context. Such was the malicious skill of the critic. the brightest radiations of its glory. There is a general impression that it is unpopular; and the only reason is, that it has fallen into reluctant hands. We can make any style of preaching unpopular by not learning our trade. If it is unpopular, you must make it popular. The burning of the anthracite coal was exceedingly unpopular until people had learned how to use it. The truth is, there is no mode of presenting sacred truth so rich, so various, so impressive, so fascinating. You have all history, rich with spoils of time, to help you. It has this important benefit, that it connects your philolgical studies with your public ministrations. It keeps up your interest in biblical investigation; it makes you a better Hebrew scholar, a better Greek scholar;' it makes you at once a familiar tenant, both of the old world and new; and you bring down the wealth of the former to increase the accumulated importations of the latter. It leads you to inspect every part of the Bible, and the more you spend the richer you grow. I can conceive of nothing more improving than tracing the progress of language (the sacred language of God, too), the laws of thought, the uniformity and variety of revelation, comparing the two opposite poles of the extremest ancient and modern life; and the divine art by which God himself unfolds his complicated purposes to man. A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon. One important point in lecturing or expounding on a chapter, a psalm, or a section, is selection; that is, with a quick eye to discover what is practical and proper for the people. This is the cumulative point of all legitimate investigation. We must not be pedants; we must not attempt 1 Let me turn aside gratefully to remember the advice the late Prof. Gibbs gave me, when a young man and he a fellow student, but less of a fellow student than an instructor. Mentioning to him the danger of forgetting our studies in the care of a parish; "There is," said he, "one excellent way to prevent this take a passage, — a Psalm, a chapter in Isaiah, or a whole book, — study it critically and thoroughly, and expound it to your people; you need not, of course, bring out all the points you examine; but bring out the result. You will find the benefit both for you and for them." Never were words more fitly spoken; and this, and many other counsels, I can only forget when I follow him to the grave, and perhaps not even then. to lead the people through the mazes of learned wisdom or learned trifling, which amuses the recesses of academic subtilty. Selection, skilful selection, must be your rule. You are to see, with a divine tact, what belongs to yourself and what to offer to your people. Sift the material, and keep the bran to yourself, and offer the meal to them. This maxim, of course, belongs only to the evangelical class. If I were one of the Tübingen historical school, I should never think of a popular lecture on the Bible. Their investigations evaporate into nothing— Rich windows, that exclude the light, The laborers of this school keep digging and scratching in their gold mine, amidst noxious gases and frail safety lamps, to bring up their glittering pyrites, which they have, over and over again, assured us are worth nothing. The Bible, if it be worth anything, has an end, a result; and that result can always be presented, with the deepest interest, to the plainest congregation. The benefits of this mode of preaching are, that you keep fresh your seminary lessons; you become a biblical critic; your Hebrew and your Greek never fade; they are renewed, by little and little, every week; you occupy rich ground; you forestall your own narrowing idiosyncracies; you are never at a loss for a subject; you throw yourself on the towline of Providence; you find wonderful coincidences; your discourses will have a surprising application; you are often faithful to existing sin, without seeming to design it; you are always sheltered behind a sacred shield; you neglect no part of revelation; you almost become a prophet of God, and you go to Egypt to encounter its corruptions and its hosts with the rod of God in your hand. After all, it must be confessed that a long pastorate does not depend on preaching alone. There are other elements. Some men, who seemed to have every excellence in forming a sermon, have had very short settlements; the attractions of the desk being counteracted by the imperfections of pri |