they have great propriety. But these subjects produce not the high effects of preaching. Attention is much more commanded, by taking some particular view of a great object, and employing on that the whole force of argument and eloquence. To recommend some one virtue, or inveigh against a particular vice, affords a subject not deficient in unity or precision; but if that virtue or vice be considered as assuming a particular aspect, as it appears in certain characters, or affects certain situations in life, the subject becomes still more interesting. The execution is certainly less easy, but the merit and the effect are higher. A preacher should be cautious not to exhaust his subject; since nothing is more opposite to persuasion than an unnecessary and tedious fulness. There are always some things which he may suppose to be known, and some which require only a brief attention. If he endeavour to omit nothing which his subject suggests, he must unavoidably encumber it, and debilitate its force. To render his instructions interesting to his hearers, should be the grand object of every preacher. He should bring home to their hearts the truths which he inculcates, and make each suppose that himself is particularly addressed. He should, consequently, avoid all intricate reasonings; avoid expressing himself in general speculative propositions or laying down practical truths in an abstract, metaphysical manner. A discourse ought to be carried on in the strain of direct address to the audience; not in the strain of one writing an essay, but of one speaking to a multitude, and studying to connect what is called application, or what immediately refers to practice, with the doctrinal and didactic parts of the sermon. It is always highly advantageous to keep in view the different ages, characters, and conditions of men, and to accommodate directions and exhortations to each of these different classes. Whenever you advance what a man feels to touch his own character, or to be applicable to his own cir cumstances, you are sure of his attention. No study, here fore, is more necessary for a preacher, than the study of human life, and of the human heart. To be able to discover a man to himself, in a light in which he never saw his own character before, produces a wonderful effect. Those ser mons, though the most difficult in composition, are not only the most beautiful, but also the most useful, which are founded on the illustration of some peculiar character, or remarkable piece of history, in the sacred writings; by the pursuit of which, we may trace, and lay open, some of the most secret windings of the human heart. Other topics of preaching have become trite and common; but this is an extensive field, which has hitherto been little explored, and possesses all the advantages of being curious, new, and in the highest degree useful. Bishop Butler's sermon on the character of Balaam, is an example of this kind of preaching Fashion, which operates so extensively on human manners, has given to preaching, at different times, a change of character. This, however, is a torrent, which swells to-day and subsides to-morrow. Sometimes poetical preaching is fashionable; sometimes philosophical at one time it must be all pathetic; at another all argumentative; according as some celebrated preacher has afforded the example. Each of these modes in the extreme, is very defective; and he who conforms himself to it, will both confine his genius, and corrupt it. Truth and good sense are the only basis on which he can build with safety. Mode and humour are feeble and unsteady. No example, however admired, should be servilely imitated. From various examples, the preacher may collect materials for improvement; but the servility of imitation will extinguish his genius, and expose its poverty to his hearers. SELECTIONS. ELEGANT EXTRACTS, IN POETRY AND PROSE. Extract from Cain-a Mystery BY LORD BYRON. ACT III, SCENE I. The Earth near Eden, as in Act I, Enter Cain and Adah. Adah. Hush! tread softly, Cain. Cain. I will; but wherefore? Adah. Our little Enoch sleeps upon yon bed Of leaves, beneath the cypress. Cain. Cypress! 'tis A gloomy tree, which looks as if it mourn'd Adah. A Because its branches Ay, the last Shut out the sun like night, and therefore seem'd Cain. And longest; but no matter-lead me to him. [They go up to the child How lovely he appears! his little cheeks, Adah. And his lips, too, How beautifully parted! No; you shall not Kiss him, at least not now he will awake soon- But it were pity to disturb him till 'Tis closed. Cain. You have said well; I will contain My heart till then. He smiles, and sleeps!-Sleep on Of a world scarce less young: sleep on, and smile! Thou know'st not thou art naked! Must the time- Adah. Dear Cain! Nay, do not whisper o'er our son Why wilt thou always mourn for Paradise? Where'er thou wilt: where'er thou art, I feel not To whom we owe so much besides our birth? Cain. Yes-death, too, is amongst the debts we owe her. Thy guide hath done thee evil: still I thank him, Cain. Adah.) So soon? 'Tis scarcely Two hours since ye departed: two long hours To me, but only hours upon the sun. Cain. And yet I have approach'd that sun, and seen Adah. Hardly hours. Cain. The mind then hath capacity of time, And measures it by that which it beholds, Pleasing or painful; little or almighty. I had beheld the immemorial works Of endless beings; skirr'd extinguished worlds; I had borrow'd more by a few drops of ages My littleness again. Well said the spirit, Collins' Ode on the Passions. WHEN Music, heav'nly maid, was young, And where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice, was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted, smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. Revenge impatient rose; |