MR. MORTIMER, says one of his friends {262} (well fitted to form a
correct estimate of him), was “a _rarely gifted_ person.” As a
_preacher_, he possessed very considerable excellence. His
extemporaneous discourses were of a very finished kind, lucid in order,
striking in illustration, and powerful in application. These discourses
were not the mere effusions of thoughts unprepared and of matter
undigested, but the result of diligent reading, close study, and fervent
prayer, which alone can enable even the competent _extempore_ speaker to
address a Christian congregation with any good effect. He was eminently
a practical preacher, and signally excelled in pourtraying the unfair
arts so often practised by men of business with a view to their worldly
gain: and, as his hearers were mostly tradesmen, his graphic delineations
were sometimes keenly felt in the consciences of individuals, who were
ready to say, “Art thou come to call our sins to our remembrance?” More
than one of his mercantile hearers has asked him, in private intercourse,
by what means he had acquired so exact and extraordinary an acquaintance
with the varieties of fraud, which, however familiar in the busy walks of
trade, might be supposed little known to a minister of the gospel. To
such a question he has replied, that he had derived his knowledge, partly
from the habitual study of his own heart, partly from his personal
experience of a busy life in his earlier years; as he had been
apprenticed to an eminent London bookseller, previously to his collegiate
preparation for the ministry.
So searchingly did he probe the consciences of his hearers, that it was
not unfrequent with some among them to visit him for the purpose of
private conference, counsel, and consolation. He well knew how to “speak
a word in season to the weary,” with a peculiar sympathy and kindness.
Yet quite as well he knew how to apply “the terror of the Lord:” and I
remember his telling me, that one of the _most effective_ sermons (as he
had reason to believe) which he had ever preached, was of terrific
character, and founded on those words of overwhelming horror; “In Hell he
lifted up his eyes, being in torments.” _That_ sermon (he had reason to
hope) had been used by the Lord as an instrument for rescuing “a brand
from the burning,” which the preacher aimed to represent. Another of his
most striking sermons, divided between the morning and evening of the
same Sabbath, was formed on a theme contrasted with the preceding, the
_conduct_ and the _reward_ of the faithful Christian, as exemplified in
St. PAUL: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I
have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that
day.” {264}
But, whatever excellencies he possessed as a preacher, Mr. Mortimer was
unconscious of them himself: for he frequently deplored what he
considered the inefficiency of his ministrations, and was accustomed to
speak in the most humble terms of his sermons. On one such occasion, he
said, “When I come out of the pulpit, and turn over in my mind what I
have said, I think, What does it all amount to? How much more to the
purpose it might have been, and how much more useful!”
On the Sunday evenings, after committing his past endeavours into the
hands of his God by prayer, he would turn his thoughts from the review of
what he considered his past failures to the hope of future usefulness, by
at once renewing his exertions. With this view, he was accustomed,
before he retired to rest on the Sunday evening, to look out a text for
the following Sunday, and to form the outline of the sermon. But
although he was thus peculiarly anxious about the preparation of his
sermons, he seldom spoke on the subject without remarking upon the
necessity of the accompanying influences of the Holy Spirit, to render
efficacious even the most highly wrought, powerful, and most convincing
sermon. Indeed, he has expressed the opinion, that the most common-place
sermons were often made the most useful; because, in such cases, the
preacher, being aware of their defects, and being thus divested of all
feelings of self-congratulation, was led, in more humble dependence upon
God, to entreat that He would give the increase.
In connexion with this subject, he once mentioned having preached for a
friend on a rainy day to an exceedingly small congregation. The
comparatively large number of empty pews presented a very discouraging
aspect, and tended very much to depress his spirits;—altogether such was
the effect produced on his mind, that least of all on that day would he
have expected any favourable result from his sermon. Some time
afterwards, when he was spending an evening at the house of a person who
resided at some distance both from the place where he preached and from
his own home, a lady, who was of the party, took an opportunity of
stating how much she felt indebted to him for the spiritual sight that
she had received through his instrumentality. He was at a loss to know
what she alluded to, for he had no recollection of having seen her
before: but she brought to his recollection the thinly scattered
congregation in his friend’s church, for whom he had preached on a very
rainy day: and then stated that she was one of those few hearers, and
that the sermon had made so deep an impression on her mind as to have
been productive of lasting benefit.