bear criticism, but which is as void of excellency as it is free from defect. He that winneth souls is wise. What is every other praise of an instrument, if it does not answer its end? What is every other commendation of a preacher, if he be useless? unimpressive? uninteresting? What is it, that nothing is complained of, if nothing is applauded? What is it, that nothing offends, if nothing strikes? What is the harangue that dies in the hearing, and leaves nothing for the hearers to carry away, to think of in solitude, and to speak of in company? What but a fault is the smoothness of address, that prevents every excitement that would rend by terror, or melt by tenderness? A sermon may resemble a French Drama that observes inviolably all the unities, and challenges severity as a finished piece but excites no sentiment, and produces no effect. But give us rather a Shakspeare, who, with blemishes which a less shrewd observer than Voltaire may detect, actually suceeeds, arrests, inspires, and enchants. We need not plead for coarseness or faults. A speaker may be animated, yet decorous and orderly too but in popular addresses, if either fails, it is far better to sacrifice correctness to impression, than effect to nicety of endeavour. Let the squeamishly hypercritical remember that he is labouring to little purpose while consuming his time and attention in subtle accuracies, and polished dulness. And let the man who is in earnest about his work, never yield to an under anxiety resulting from the possibility of a trifling mistake; and which, as Gray says of penury, would repress his noble rage and chill the genial current of his soul. Let him feel his subject, and follow his ardour, recollecting that great excellencies or impressions will redeem small failures; and even prevent their being noticed-unless by the little and perverse-minded, who only sit to discover and remark any minute impropriety-adders to every thing else in the charmer, charm he never so wisely. There is also some difference between the heat of delivery and the coolness of review; between the leisure and discrimination of readers, and hearers. More freedom therefore will be permitted in preaching than in publishing: and what the press may forbid, the pulpit may tolerate. Yea, the pulpit may require it, especially for the sake of a large part of the congregation. For these, though they have not the advantage of culture, yet have souls as well as others, and their moral wants must be attended to. Now a preacher need not grovel down to the lowest level of the vulgar; yea, he should aways take his aim a little above them, in order to raise and improve their taste: but he must not soar out of their sight and reach. He yet may be tempted to this by the presence of others. But let him remember, that those who are more educated and refined, ought, not only to endure, but to commend his accommodation; yea, and they will commend, instead of censuring him, if they are really concerned for the welfare of their brethren less privileged than themselves. If they are benevolent and pious as well as intelligent, they will always be more pleased with a discourse. suited to general comprehension and improvement, than with a preparation, which, in other circumstances, they might relish as an intellectual treat for themselves. To which we may add, that there is not so great a difference here as some mistaken and elaborate orators imagine. Genuine simplicity knows a mode, which while it extends to the poor and unlearned, will equally please their superiors. For "So it is when the mind is endued "With a well-judging taste from above; "The achievements of art may amuse, In one of his charges, Archbishop Usher says to his clergy, "How much learning and wisdom, my brethren, are necessary to make these things plain!" Could any thing be more fine and judicious than this? Here is the proper direction and exertion of a minister's talents, whether natural or acquired. They are not to unfit him for any part of his office-which they may easily do, at the stimulation of vanity or pride; but to qualify and aid him the better to perform it. It is to be feared that some do not employ their abilities to make things plain-if they do, we can but lament their deplorable want of success. But it would seem as if their aim was to dazzle, rather than enlighten; to surprise, rather than inform; to raise admiration at their difficult composition, rather than with the Apostles to use great plainness of speech. Even their claim to originality of ten regards only the mode of representation. The ideas they wish to pass off as new, when examined, are found only com mon-place sentiments. The well is not really deep; but you cannot see to the bottom, because of their contrivance to make the water muddy. They are not really tall; and so they strain on tiptoe. They have not a native beauty that always appears to most advantage without finery; and so they would make up the deficiency by excess, and complexity, and cumbersomeness of ornament. He who cannot rise in the simple grandeur of a morning sun, can excite notice by the gaudy brilliancy of manufactured fireworks; and flame and sparkle down, as well as up. To notice in some respects a style that has been constructed (for it could hardly have been involuntary) so inverted, involved, obscure, difficult, half blank verse; might seem to be going out of the Author's province. He leaves, therefore, others to remark, that this style, though it may be extolled by the lower orders of professional men, and half-educated artizans, and exciteable youth, with a smattering of science and a bad taste; it will never obtain the approbation of the really judicious and discerning. He leaves others to remark, that it is disdained. by scholars, and at war with classical purity. Lord Kaimes tells us that in every language, clearness of expression and simplicity of thought are the first marks of elegance. Milton observes, that nothing accords with true genius but what appears easy and natural when once it is produced. Agreeably to which, Addison says, that the secret of fine writing is, for the sentiments to be natural, without being obvious; and contends, that what produces surprise without being simple, will never yield lasting pleasure to the mind. Hume, in his Essay on Refinement and Simplicity in Style, comes soon to this conclusion that it is better to err in the excess of simplicity, than in the excess of refinement; the former extreme being more beautiful and less dangerous than the latter. He observes, that the works read again and again with so much pleasure, all lean more to the one side than to the other-that it is increasingly needful to be guarded against the extreme of refinement when learning has made much progress, and good writers appear in every species of composition: as men will then be the more tempted to endeavour to please by strangeness and novelty, and so fill their writings with affectation and conceits-and that simplicity may be lost, not only in subtlety, but in effort and straining; and nature and ease be buried under an artificial load of laborious diffusion. But while the preacher leaves others to speak upon this subject as a literary question, it cannot be improper for him to notice it in another and far more important connexion; and to deprecate the adoption of such a style in divinity, and to warn his younger brethren against every approach and tendency towards it. For how perfectly is it unlike the language of inspiration! What an entire contrast does it form with the simplicity there is in Christ Jesus! And how useless must such hard and unintelligible diction be to ordinary minds! And who are the mass in almost every audience?-They who are often comparatively neglected, if not despised, there. Leighton, and Watts, and a thousand other names, whose works praise them in the gate, and are now useful to all, might have so written as to be useless to many. Had our Saviour felt the low ambition of some, he might easily have been beyond the comprehension and the attraction of the multitude. In him were hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. He spake as never man spake. But was it a proof against his manner, or the highest recommendation of it, that the common people heard him gladly; and that all bare him witness, and wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth? The Author would not for the world be in the condition of that preacher whose attendants do not and cannot say, "Here the poor have the gospel preached unto them." They not only need it; and should excite our compassion by their temporal privations and sufferings, as well as by their spiritual condition; but they are capable of understanding, and receiving, and admiring it. Learning is not necessary here. The doctrines of the gospel are not the result of research, but testimony. There are funds of good sense and good feeling in the common people, as well as in others: and they are even capable of appreciating what is truly superior in preaching, if it be properly presented and illustrated. The fault is always much more with the preacher than with them. He does not adapt himself to those he professes to teach; he does not make them his aim; he does not study them; he does not throw himself into their modes and habits of thinking and feeling; he has nothing simple and natural in his official being. They understand and relish the Pilgrim's Progress; and the history of Joseph; and the parable of the lost sheep, and of the prodigal son. They are easily informed and impressed by the sayings of our Lord, and the language of the Scriptures. But nothing is to be done in them without excitement; and they are addressed without emotion. Their very understandings must be approached through their imaginations and passions; and they are lectured as if they had none. They are never to be starved into a surrender; and they are circumvallated and trenched at a distance. They are only to be taken by an assault; and they are slowly and formally besieged. They want familiar and seasonable imagery; and to show the preacher's learning, they are furnished with allusions taken from the arts and sciences. They want striking sentences, and the words of the wise, which are as goads and as nails; and they have long and tame paragraphs. They only want truths to be brought home to their consciences, for they admit them already; and they are argued and reasoned into confusion or doubt. They want precedents; and are furnished with precepts. They want instances; and are deadened by discussions. They want facts; and are burdened with re flections. The Bible adapts itself to the state of our nature and knowing how little all are, and how little many can be affected with abstract representations of virtues and duties, it blends religion with history and biography; so that while we read the rule, we may see the exemplification; and be reproved, excited, and encouraged, while we are informed. It is not a series of logical definitions, like dead bodies well laid out and dressed—all is life and motion. It gives us actions rather than words. We view the fruits of righteousness growing on the tree. We have, not the pilgrimage, but the pilgrim; and go along with him from the city of destruction to the shining city. We are not spectators only; we are his companions: we are interested in all he meets with; we weep when he weeps, and rejoice when he rejoices. It is not Christianity that is set before us, but the Christian; and we attend him following his Saviour, denying himself, taking up his cross, resisting temptation, struggling with unwearied patience through a thousand difficulties, braving with fortitude every danger, and emerging out into glory, honour, and immortality. By nothing can the attention of children be so effectually caught as by facts and narratives: and " men are but children of a larger growth." What is the greater part of the Old Testament, but history? There is scarcely a Psalm, but refers to |