I once entered Beecher's church with a friend who was not often seen
in such sanctuaries. Aisles, body, galleries, every slip, every chair,
all were occupied, many left standing. The praise, the prayer, the
christening,--there were a dozen babes presented for baptism,--all
were devout, touching, even to tears at times. I know I wept, while my
friend was restive, fancying himself, as he declared, in some Pagan
fane. The services all seemed becoming, however. Here was no realm of
Drowsy Head. The preaching was the more effective for its playfulness,
point, strength, pertinency. Coming from the heart, the doctrine found
the hearts of its hearers. The preacher showed his good sense, too, in
omitting the trite phrases and traditions, speaking straight to his
points in plain, homely speech, that carried the moral home to its
mark. It was refreshing to get a touch of human nature, the preaching
so often failing in this respect. The speaker took his audience along
with him by his impetuosity, force of momentum, his wit playing about
his argument, gathering power of persuasion, force of statement as he
passed. His strong sense, broad humanity, abounding animal spirits,
humor, anecdote, perhaps explain the secret of his power and popularity.