The observations contained in the preceding chapter make it sufficiently
evident, that the art of extemporaneous speaking, however advantageous
to the christian minister, and however possible to be acquired, is yet
attended with embarrassments and difficulties, which are to be removed
only by long and arduous labor. It is not enough, however, to insist
upon the necessity of this discipline. We must know in what it consists,
and how it is to be conducted. In completing, therefore, the plan I have
proposed to myself, I am now to give a few hints respecting the mode in
which the study is to be carried on, and obstacles to be surmounted.
These hints, gathered partly from experience and partly from observation
and books, will be necessarily incomplete; but not, it is hoped,
altogether useless to those who are asking some direction.
1. The first thing to be observed is, that the student who would acquire
facility in this art, should bear it constantly in mind, and have regard
to it in all his studies, and in his whole mode of study. The reason is
very obvious. He that would become eminent in any pursuit, must make it
the primary and almost exclusive object of his attention. It must never
be long absent from his thoughts, and he must be contriving how to
promote it, in every thing he undertakes. It is thus that the miser
accumulates, by making the most trifling occurrences the occasions of
gain; and thus the ambitious man is on the alert to forward his purposes
of advancement by little events which another would pass unobserved. So
too he, the business of whose life is preaching, should be on the watch
to render every thing subservient to this end. The inquiry should always
be, how he can turn the knowledge he is acquiring, the subject he is
studying, this mode of reasoning, this event, this conversation, and the
conduct of this or that man, to aid the purposes of religious
instruction. He may find an example in the manner in which Pope pursued
his favorite study. "From his attention to poetry," says Johnson, "he
was never diverted. If conversation offered any thing that could be
improved, he committed it to paper; if a thought, or perhaps an
expression more happy than was common, rose to his mind, he was careful
to write it; an independent distich was preserved for an opportunity of
insertion, and some little fragments have been found containing lines,
or parts of lines, to be wrought upon at some other time." By a like
habitual and vigilant attention, the preacher will find scarce any thing
but may be made to minister to his great design, by either giving rise
to some new train of thought, or suggesting an argument, or placing some
truth in a new light, or furnishing some useful illustration. Thus none
of his reading will be lost; every poem and play, every treatise on
science, and speculation in philosophy, and even every ephemeral tale
may be made to give hints toward the better management of sermons and
the more effectual proposing and communicating of truth.
He who proposes to himself the art of extemporaneous speaking should
thus have constant regard to this particular object, and make every
thing co-operate to form those habits of mind which are essential to it.
This may be done not only without any hindrance to the progress of his
other studies, but even so as to promote them. The most important
requisites are rapid thinking, and ready command of language. By rapid
thinking I mean, what has already been spoken of, the power of seizing
at once upon the most prominent points of the subject to be discussed,
and tracing out, in their proper order, the subordinate thoughts which
connect them together. This power depends very much upon habit; a habit
more easily acquired by some minds than by others, and by some with
great difficulty. But there are few who, should they have a view to the
formation of such a habit in all their studies, might not attain it in a
degree quite adequate to their purpose. This is much more indisputably
true in regard to fluency of language.
Let it, therefore, be a part of his daily care to analyze the subjects
which come before him, and to frame sketches of sermons. This will aid
him to acquire a facility in laying open, dividing, and arranging
topics, and preparing those outlines which he is to take with him into
the pulpit. Let him also investigate carefully the method of every
author he reads, marking the divisions of his arrangement, and the
connexion and train of his reasoning. Butler's preface to his Sermons
will afford him some fine hints on this way of study. Let this be his
habitual mode of reading, so that he shall as much do this, as receive
the meaning of separate sentences, and shall be always able to give a
better account of the progress of the argument and the relation of every
part to the others and to the whole, than of merely individual passages
and separate illustrations. This will infallibly beget a readiness in
finding the divisions and boundaries of a subject, which is one
important requisite to an easy and successful speaker.
In a similar manner, let him always bear in mind the value of a fluent
and correct use of language. Let him not be negligent of this in his
conversation; but be careful ever to select the best words, to avoid a
slovenly style and drawling utterance, and to aim at neatness, force,
and brevity. This may be done without formality, or stiffness, or
pedantic affectation; and when settled into a habit is invaluable.
2. In addition to this general cultivation, there should be frequent
exercise of the act of speaking. Practice is essential to perfection in
any art, and in none more so than in this. No man reads well or writes
well, except by long practice; and he cannot expect without it to speak
well, an operation which is equivalent to the other two united. He may
indeed get along, as the phrase is; but not so well as he might do and
should do. He may not always be able even to get along. He may be as
sadly discomfited as a friend of mine, who said that he had made the
attempt, and was convinced that for him to speak extempore was
impossible; he had risen from his study table, and tried to make a
speech, proving that virtue is better than vice; but was obliged to sit
down without completing it. How could one hope to do better in a first
attempt, if he had not considered beforehand what he should say? It were
as rational to think he could play on the organ without having learned,
or translate from a language he had never studied.
It would not be too much to require of the student, that he should
exercise himself every day, once at least, if not oftener; and this, on
a variety of subjects, and in various ways, that he may attain a
facility in every mode. It would be a pleasant interchange of employment
to rise from the subject which occupies his thoughts, or from the book
he is reading, and repeat to himself the substance of what he has just
perused, with such additions and variations, or criticisms, as may
suggest themselves at the moment. There could hardly be a more useful
exercise, even if there were no reference to this particular end. How
many excellent chapters of valuable authors, how many fine views of
important subjects, would be thus impressed upon his mind, and what rich
treasures of thought and language would be thus laid up in store. And
according as he should be engaged in a work of reasoning, or
description, or exhortation, or narrative, he would be attaining the
power of expressing himself readily in each of these various styles. By
pursuing this course for two or three years, "a man may render himself
such a master in this matter," says Burnet, "that he can never be
surprised;" and he adds, that he never knew a man faithfully to pursue
the plan of study he proposed, without being successful at last.
3. When by such a course of study and discipline he has attained a
tolerable fluency of thoughts and words, and a moderate confidence in
his own powers; there are several things to be observed in first
exercising the gift in public, in order to ensure comfort and success.
It is recommended by Bishop Burnet and others, that the first attempts
be made by short excursions from written discourses; like the young bird
that tries its wings by short flights, till it gradually acquires
strength and courage to sustain itself longer in the air. This advice is
undoubtedly judicious. For he may safely trust himself in a few
sentences, who would be confounded in the attempt to frame a whole
discourse. For this purpose blanks may be left in writing, where the
sentiment is familiar, or only a short illustration is to be introduced.
As success in these smaller attempts gives him confidence, he may
proceed to larger; till at length, when his mind is bright and his
feelings engaged, he may quit his manuscript altogether, and present the
substance of what he had written, with greater fervor and effect, than
if he had confined himself to his paper. It was once observed to me by
an interesting preacher of the Baptist denomination, that he had found
from experience this to be the most advisable and perfect mode; since it
combined the advantages of written and extemporaneous composition. By
preparing sermons in this way, he said, he had a shelter and security if
his mind should be dull at the time of delivery; and if it were active,
he was able to leave what he had written, and obey the ardor of his
feelings, and go forth on the impulse of the moment, wherever his spirit
might lead him. A similar remark I heard made by a distinguished scholar
of the Methodist connexion, who urged, what is universally asserted by
those who have tried this method with any success, that what has been
written is found to be tame and spiritless, in comparison with the
animated glow of that which springs from the energy of the moment.
There are some persons, however, who would be embarrassed by an effort
to change the operation of the mind from reading to inventing. Such
persons may find it best to make their beginning with a whole discourse.
4. In this case, there will be a great advantage in selecting for first
efforts expository subjects. To say nothing of the importance and
utility of this mode of preaching, which render it desirable that every
minister should devote a considerable proportion of his labors to it; it
contains great facilities and reliefs for the inexperienced speaker. The
close study of a passage of scripture which is necessary to expounding
it, renders it familiar. The exposition is inseparably connected with
the text, and necessarily suggested by it. The inferences and practical
reflections are in like manner naturally and indissolubly associated
with the passage. The train of remark is easily preserved, and
embarrassment in a great measure guarded against, by the circumstance
that the order of discourse is spread out in the open Bible, upon which
the eyes may rest and by which the thoughts may rally.
5. A similar advantage is gained to the beginner, in discourses of a
different character, by a very careful and minute division of the
subject. The division should not only be logical and clear, but into
parts as numerous as possible. The great advantage here is, that the
partitions being many, the speaker is compelled frequently to return to
his minutes. He is thus kept in the track, and prevented from wandering
far in needless digressions--that besetting infirmity of unrestrained
extemporizers. He also escapes the mortifying consequences of a
momentary confusion and cloudiness of mind, by having it in his power to
leave an unsatisfactory train at once, before the state of his mind is
perceived by the audience, and take up the next topic, where he may
recover his self-possession, and proceed without impediment. This is no
unimportant consideration. It relieves him from the horror of feeling
obliged to go on, while conscious that he is saying nothing to the
purpose; and at the same time secures the very essential requisite of
right method.
6. The next rule is, that the whole subject, with the order and
connexion of all its parts, and the entire train of thought, be made
thoroughly familiar by previous meditation. The speaker must have the
discourse in his mind as one whole, whose various parts are distinctly
perceived as other wholes, connected with each other and contributing to
a common end. There must be no uncertainty, when he rises to speak, as
to what he is going to say; no mist or darkness over the land he is
about to travel; but conscious of his acquaintance with the ground, he
must step forward confidently, not doubting that he shall find the
passes of its mountains, and thread the intricacies of its forests, by
the paths which he has already trodden. It is an imperfect and partial
preparation in this respect, which so often renders the manner awkward
and embarrassed, and the discourse obscure and perplexed.[11] But when
the preparation is faithful, the speaker feels at home; being under no
anxiety respecting the ideas or the order of their succession, he has
the more ready control of his person, his eye, and his hand, and the
more fearlessly gives up his mind to its own action and casts himself
upon the current. Uneasiness and constraint are the inevitable
attendants of unfaithful preparation, and they are fatal to success. It
is true, that no man can attain the power of self-possession so as to
feel at all times equally and entirely at ease. But he may guard against
the sorest ills which attend its loss, by always making sure of a train
of thought,--being secure that he has ideas, and that they lie in such
order as to be found and brought forward in some sort of apparel, even
when he has in some measure lost the mastery of himself. The richness or
meanness of their dress will depend on the humor of the moment. It will
vary as much as health and spirits vary, which is more in some men than
in others. But the thoughts themselves he may produce, and be certain of
saying _what_ he intended to say, even when he cannot say it _as_ he
intended. It must often have been observed, by those who are at all in
the habit of observation of this kind, that the mind operates in this
particular like a machine, which, having been wound up, runs on by its
own spontaneous action, until it has gone through its appointed course.
Many men have thus continued speaking in the midst of an embarrassment
of mind which rendered them almost unconscious of what they were saying,
and incapable of giving an account of it afterward; while yet the
unguided, self-moving intellect wrought so well, that the speech was not
esteemed unwholesome or defective by the hearers. The experience of this
fact has doubtless helped many to believe that they spoke from
inspiration. It ought to teach all, that there is no sufficient cause
for that excessive apprehension, which so often unmans them, and which,
though it may not stop their mouths, must deprive their address of all
grace and beauty, of all ease and force.
[11] Nemo potest de eâ re, quam non novit, non turpissime
dicere. Cic. de Or.
7. We may introduce in this place another rule, the observance of which
will aid in preventing the ill consequences resulting from the
accidental loss of self-possession. The rule is, utter yourself very
slowly and deliberately, with careful pauses. This is at all times a
great aid to a clear and perspicuous statement. It is essential to the
speaker, who would keep the command of himself and consequently of his
hearers.
One is very likely, when, in the course of speaking, he has stumbled on
an unfortunate expression, or said what he would prefer not to say, or
for a moment lost sight of the precise point at which he was aiming, to
hurry on with increasing rapidity, as if to get as far as possible from
his misfortune, or cause it to be forgotten in the crowd of new words.
But instead of thus escaping the evil, he increases it; he entangles
himself more and more; and augments the difficulty of recovering his
route. The true mode of recovering himself is by increased deliberation.
He must pause, and give himself time to think;--"ut tamen deliberare non
hæsitare videatur." He need not be alarmed lest his hearers suspect the
difficulty. Most of them are likely to attribute the slowness of his
step to any cause rather than the true one. They take it for granted,
that he says and does precisely as he intended and wished. They suppose
that he is pausing to gather up his strength. It excites their
attention. The change of manner is a relief to them. And the probability
is, that the speaker not only recovers himself, but that the effort to
do it gives a spring to the action of his powers, which enables him to
proceed afterward with greater energy.
8. In regard to language, the best rule is, that no preparation be made.
There is no convenient and profitable medium between speaking from
memory and from immediate suggestion. To mix the two is no aid, but a
great hindrance, because it perplexes the mind between the very
different operations of memory and invention. To prepare sentences and
parts of sentences, which are to be introduced here and there, and the
intervals between them to be filled up in the delivery, is the surest of
all ways to produce constraint. It is like the embarrassment of framing
verses to prescribed rhymes; as vexatious, and as absurd. To be
compelled to shape the course of remark so as to suit a sentence which
is by and by to come, or to introduce certain expressions which are
waiting for their place, is a check to the natural current of thought.
The inevitable consequence is constraint and labor, the loss of every
thing like easy and flowing utterance, and perhaps that worst of
confusion which results from a jumble of ill assorted, disjointed
periods. It is unavoidable that the subject should present itself in a
little different form and complexion in speaking, from that which it
took in meditation; so that the sentences and modes of expression, which
agreed very well with the train of remark as it came up in the study,
may be wholly unsuited to that which it assumes in the pronunciation.
The extemporaneous speaker should therefore trust himself to the moment
for all his language. This is the safe way for his comfort, and the only
sure way to make all of a uniform piece. The general rule is certain,
though there may be some exceptions. It may be well for example, to
consider what synonymous terms may be employed in recurring to the chief
topic, in order to avoid the too frequent reiteration of the same word.
This will occasion no embarrassment. He may also prepare texts of
scripture to be introduced in certain parts of the discourse. These, if
perfectly committed to memory, and he be not too anxious to make a place
for them, will be no encumbrance. When a suitable juncture occurs, they
will suggest themselves, just as a suitable epithet suggests itself. But
if he be very solicitous about them, and continually on the watch for an
opportunity to introduce them, he will be likely to confuse himself. And
it is better to lose the choicest quotation, than suffer constraint and
awkwardness from the effort to bring it in. Under the same restrictions
he may have ready, pithy remarks, striking and laconic expressions,
pointed sayings and aphorisms, the force of which depends on the precise
form of the phrase. Let the same rule be observed in regard to such. If
they suggest themselves (which they will do, if there be a proper place
for them), let them be welcome. But never let him run the risk of
spoiling a whole paragraph in trying to make a place for them.
Many distinguished speakers are said to do more than this,--to write out
with care and repeat from memory their more important and persuasive
parts; like the _de bene esse's_ of Curran, and the splendid passages of
many others. This may undoubtedly be done to advantage by one who has
the command of himself which practice gives, and has learned to pass
from memory to invention without tripping. It is a different case from
that mixture of the two operations, which is condemned above, and is in
fact only an extended example of the exceptions made in the last
paragraph. With these exceptions, when he undertakes, _bonâ fide_, an
extemporaneous address, he should make no preparation of language.
Language is the last thing he should be anxious about. If he have ideas,
and be awake, it will come of itself, unbidden and unsought for. The
best language flashes upon the speaker as unexpectedly as upon the
hearer. It is the spontaneous gift of the mind, not the extorted boon of
a special search. No man who has thoughts, and is interested in them, is
at a loss for words--not the most uneducated man; and the words he uses
will be according to his education and general habits, not according to
the labour of the moment. If he truly feel, and wish to communicate his
feelings to those around him, the last thing that will fail will be
language; the less he thinks of it and cares for it, the more copiously
and richly will it flow from him; and when he has forgotten every thing
but his desire to give vent to his emotions and do good, then will the
unconscious torrent pour, as it does at no other season. This entire
surrender to the spirit which stirs within, is indeed the real secret of
all eloquence. "True eloquence," says Milton, "I find to be none but the
serious and hearty love of truth; and that whose mind soever is fully
possessed with a fervent desire to know good things, and with the
dearest charity to infuse the knowledge of them into others,--when such
a man would speak, his words, like so many nimble and airy servitors,
trip about him at command and in well ordered files, as he would wish,
fall aptly into their own places." Rerum enim copia (says the great
Roman teacher and example) verborum copiam gignit; et, si est honestas
in rebus ipsis de quibus dicitur, existit ex rei naturâ quidam splendor
in verbis. Sit modo is, qui dicet aut scribet, institutus liberaliter
educatione doctrinâque puerili, et flagret studio, et a naturâ
adjuvetur, et in universorum generum infinitis disceptationibus
exercitatus; ornatissimos scriptores oratoresque ad cognoscendum
imitandumque legerit;--næ ille haud sane, quemadmodum verba struat et
illuminet, a magistris istis requiret. Ita facile in rerum abundantiâ ad
orationis ornamenta, sine duce, naturâ ipsâ, si modo est exercitata,
labetur.[12]
[12] De Or. iii. 31.
9. These remarks lead to another suggestion which deserves the student's
consideration. He should select for this exercise those subjects in
which he feels an interest at the time, and in regard to which he
desires to engage the interest of others. In order to the best success,
extemporaneous efforts should be made in an excited state, when the mind
is burning and glowing, and longs to find vent. There are some topics
which do not admit of this excitement. Such should be treated by the
pen. When he would speak, he should choose topics on which his own mind
is kindling with a feeling which he is earnest to communicate; and the
higher the degree to which he has elevated his feelings, the more
readily, happily, and powerfully will he pour forth whatever the
occasion may demand. There is no style suited to the pulpit, which he
will not more effectually command in this state of mind. He will reason
more directly, pointedly, and convincingly; he will describe more
vividly from the living conceptions of the moment; he will be more
earnest in persuasion, more animated in declamation, more urgent in
appeals, more terrible in denunciation. Every thing will vanish from
before him, but the subject of his attention, and upon this his powers
will be concentrated in keen and vigorous action.
If a man would do his best, it must be upon topics which are at the
moment interesting to him. We see it in conversation, where every one is
eloquent upon his favorite subjects. We see it in deliberative
assemblies; where it is those grand questions, which excite an intense
interest, and absorb and agitate the mind, that call forth those bursts
of eloquence by which men are remembered as powerful orators, and that
give a voice to men who can speak on no other occasions. Cicero tells us
of himself, that the instances in which he was most successful, were
those in which he most entirely abandoned himself to the impulses of
feeling. Every speaker's experience will bear testimony to the same
thing; and thus the saying of Goldsmith proves true, that, "to feel
one's subject thoroughly, and to speak without fear, are the only rules
of eloquence." Let him who would preach successfully, remember this. In
the choice of subjects for extemporaneous efforts, let him have regard
to it, and never encumber himself nor distress his hearers, with the
attempt to interest them in a subject, which excites at the moment only
a feeble interest in his own mind.
This rule excludes many topics, which it is necessary to introduce into
the pulpit, subjects in themselves interesting and important, but which
few men can be trusted to treat in unpremeditated language; because they
require an exactness of definition, and nice discrimination of phrase,
which may be better commanded in the cool leisure of writing, than in
the prompt and declamatory style of the speaker. The rule also forbids
the attempt to speak when ill health, or lowness of spirits, or any
accidental cause, renders him incapable of that excitement which is
requisite to success. It requires of him to watch over the state of his
body--the partial derangement of whose functions so often confuses the
mind--that, by preserving a vigorous and animated condition of the
corporeal system, he may secure vigour and vivacity of mind. It requires
of him, finally, whenever he is about entering upon the work, to use
every means, by careful meditation, by calling up the strong motives of
his office, by realizing the nature and responsibility of his
undertaking, and by earnestly invoking the blessing of God--to attain
that frame of devout engagedness, which will dispose him to speak
zealously and fearlessly.
10. Another important item in the discipline to be passed through,
consists in attaining the habit of self-command. I have already adverted
to this point, and noticed the power which the mind possesses of
carrying on the premeditated operation, even while the speaker is
considerably embarrassed. This is, however, only a reason for not being
too much distressed by the feeling when only occasional; it does not
imply that it is no evil. It is a most serious evil; of little
comparative moment, it may be, when only occasional and transitory, but
highly injurious if habitual. It renders the speaker unhappy, and his
address ineffective. If perfectly at ease, he would have every thing at
command, and be able to pour out his thoughts in lucid order, and with
every desirable variety of manner and expression. But when thrown from
his self-possession, he can do nothing better than mechanically string
together words, while there is no soul in them, because his mental
powers are spell-bound and imbecile. He stammers, hesitates, and
stumbles; or, at best, talks on without object or aim, as mechanically
and unconsciously as an automaton. He has learned little effectually,
till he has learned to be collected.
This therefore must be a leading object of attention. It will not be
attained by men of delicacy and sensibility, except by long and trying
practice. It will be the result of much rough attrition with the world,
and many mortifying failures. And after all, occasions may occur, when
the most experienced will be put off their guard. Still, however, much
may be done by the control which a vigorous mind has over itself, by
resolute and persevering determination, by refusing to shrink or give
way, and by preferring always the mortification of ill success, to the
increased weakness which would grow out of retreating.
There are many considerations, also, which if kept before the mind would
operate not a little to strengthen its confidence in itself. Let the
speaker be sensible that, if self-possessed, he is not likely to fail;
that after faithful study and preparation, there is nothing to stand in
his way, but his own want of self-command. Let him heat his mind with
his subject, endeavour to feel nothing, and care for nothing, but that.
Let him consider, that his audience takes for granted that he says
nothing but what he designed, and does not notice those slight errors
which annoy and mortify him; that in truth such errors are of no moment;
that he is not speaking for reputation and display, nor for the
gratification of others, by the exhibition of a rhetorical model, or for
the satisfaction of a cultivated taste: but that he is a teacher of
virtue, a messenger of Jesus Christ, a speaker in the name of God; whose
chosen object it is to lead men above all secondary considerations and
worldly attainments, and to create in them a fixed and lasting interest
in spiritual and religious concerns;--that he himself therefore ought to
regard other things as of comparatively little consequence while he
executes this high function; that the true way to effect the object of
his ministry, is to be filled with that object, and to be conscious of
no other desire but to promote it. Let him, in a word, be zealous to do
good, to promote religion, to save souls, and little anxious to make
what might be called a fine sermon--let him learn to sink every thing in
his subject and the purpose it should accomplish--ambitious rather to do
good, than to do well;--and he will be in a great measure secure from
the loss of self-command and its attendant distress. Not always--for
this feeble vessel of the mind seems to be sometimes tost to and fro, as
it were, upon the waves of circumstances, unmanageable by the helm and
disobedient to the wind. Sometimes God seems designedly to show us our
weakness, by taking from us the control of our powers, and causing us to
be drifted along whither we would not. But under all ordinary
occurrences, habitual piety and ministerial zeal will be an ample
security. From the abundance of the heart the mouth will speak. The most
diffident man in the society of men is known to converse freely and
fearlessly when his heart is full, and his passions engaged; and no man
is at a loss for words, or confounded by another's presence, who thinks
neither of the language, nor the company, but only of the matter which
fills him. Let the preacher consider this, and be persuaded of it,--and
it will do much to relieve him from the distress which attends the loss
of self-possession, which distorts every feature with agony, and distils
in sweat from his forehead. It will do much to destroy that incubus,
which sits upon every faculty of the soul, and palsies every power, and
fastens down the helpless sufferer to the very evil from which he
strives to flee.
After all, therefore, which can be said, the great essential requisite
to effective preaching in this method (or indeed in any method) is a
devoted heart. A strong religious sentiment, leading to a fervent zeal
for the good of other men, is better than all rules of art; it will give
him courage, which no science or practice could impart, and open his
lips boldly, when the fear of man would keep them closed. Art may fail
him, and all his treasures of knowledge desert him; but if his heart be
warm with love, he will "speak right on," aiming at the heart, and
reaching the heart, and satisfied to accomplish the great purpose,
whether he be thought to do it tastefully or not.
This is the true spirit of his office, to be cherished and cultivated
above all things else, and capable of rendering all its labors
comparatively easy. It reminds him that his purpose is not to make
profound discussions of theological doctrines, or disquisitions on moral
and metaphysical science; but to present such views of the great and
acknowledged truths of revelation, with such applications of them to the
understanding and conscience, as may affect and reform his hearers. Now
it is not study only, in divinity or in rhetoric, which will enable him
to do this. He may reason ingeniously, but not convincingly; he may
declaim eloquently, but not persuasively. There is an immense, though
indescribable difference between the same arguments and truths, as
presented by him who earnestly feels and desires to persuade, and by him
who designs only a display of intellectual strength, or an exercise of
rhetorical skill. In the latter case, the declamation may be splendid,
but it will be cold and without expression; lulling the ear, and
diverting the fancy, but leaving the feelings untouched. In the other,
there is an air of reality and sincerity, which words cannot describe,
but which the heart feels, that finds its way to the recesses of the
soul, and overcomes it by a powerful sympathy. This is a difference
which all perceive and all can account for. The truths of religion are
not matters of philosophical speculation, but of experience. The heart
and all the spiritual man, and all the interests and feelings of the
immortal being, have an intimate concern in them. It is perceived at
once whether they are stated by one who has felt them himself, is
personally acquainted with their power, is subject to their influence,
and speaks from actual experience; or whether they come from one who
knows them only in speculation, has gathered them from books, and
thought them out by his own reason, but without any sense of their
spiritual operation.
But who does not know how much easier it is to declare what has come to
our knowledge from our own experience, than what we have gathered coldly
at second hand from that of others;--how much easier it is to describe
feelings we have ourselves had, and pleasures we have ourselves enjoyed,
than to fashion a description of what others have told us;--how much
more freely and convincingly we can speak of happiness we have known,
than of that to which we are strangers. We see, then, how much is lost
to the speaker by coldness or ignorance in the exercises of personal
religion. How can he effectually represent the joys of a religious mind,
who has never known what it is to feel them? How can he effectually aid
the contrite, the desponding, the distrustful, the tempted, who has
never himself passed through the same fears and sorrows? or how can he
paint, in the warm colors of truth, religious exercises and spiritual
desires, who is personally a stranger to them? Alas, he cannot at all
come in contact with those souls, which stand most in need of his
sympathy and aid. But if he have cherished in himself, fondly and
habitually, the affections he would excite in others, if he have
combated temptation, and practised self-denial, and been instant in
prayer, and tasted the joy and peace of a tried faith and hope;--then he
may communicate directly with the hearts of his fellow men, and win them
over to that which he so feelingly describes. If his spirit be always
warm and stirring with these pure and kind emotions, and anxious to
impart the means of his own felicity to others--how easily and freely
will he pour himself forth! and how little will he think of the
embarrassments of the presence of mortal man, while he is conscious only
of laboring for the glory of the ever present God.
This then is the one thing essential to be attained and cherished by the
Christian preacher. With this he must begin, and with this he must go on
to the end. Then he never can greatly fail; for he will FEEL HIS SUBJECT
THOROUGHLY, AND SPEAK WITHOUT FEAR.
End of Project Gutenberg's Hints on Extemporaneous Preaching, by Henry Ware