to light, without in some degree manifesting a grateful admiration? Surely it is impossible.

Again true religion is established upon love, love to God and love to man; a preacher, therefore, who is not strongly susceptible of this feeling, or who is deficient in his manner of expressing it, cannot be eloquent, however well informed may be his understanding. But the truly evangelical mind feels now, as well as holy men of old, the love of God shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Ghost; the love of Christ operates as a constraining power, bearing every thing before it, and bringing the principles and feelings of the mind into subjection; the love of the Spirit exists as an indwelling principle in his heart; and the love of all persons and things, wherever the grace of God predominates, is brought into due subordination to those primeval feelings. This love is followed by extraordinary effects in preaching the word, and really connects itself mysteriously with all gracious principles, and becomes the prevailing character of the soul; it absorbs every thing else, and is what St. Paul calls the perfectness of the Christian character; 1 Cor. xiii. Nothing can compensate for it, as St. Paul declares; and, to the work of the ministry, it is "like the wings of a dove, covered with silver, and her feathers of yellow gold;" Ps. lxviii. 13. The example of Paul, in his whole ministry, serves instead of all others, save and except that of Christ himself, as to its mighty power in the work of the ministry. Well might the apostle express it as the great desire of his soul on behalf of the Thessalonians, that "the Lord would direct their hearts into the love of God."

You can expect to succeed in moving the affections of your hearers only in proportion as you manifest the spirit of love; and while I cannot advise you to reject any assistance that art may furnish, I am fully persuaded that something beyond the reach of art must be possessed, if we

would lead our hearers to imbibe this powerful principle. To drink deeply into the Spirit of Christ will give an energy and a pathos to your whole manner, which will add a persuasive unction to all you say.

As

We must likewise advert to hatred or abhorrence. one object is lovely to nature, so another may be repulsive and disgusting. Hatred is virtue or vice, a gracious feeling or a devilish one, according to the subject or person who exercises it, or the objects by which it is excited. The hatred of the evil spirit is the contrast of divine love, but Christian hatred has a real existence, and is turned as by an instinctive feeling against every thing that God hates. I mean this is the case when divine love predominates in the heart. "Do not I hate them that hate thee?" (their sins, not their persons;) "I hate them with perfect hatred;" Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22. From the same principle the believer hates himself and the sins that made the Saviour bleed. The ugliness and deformity of sin appear so detestable that the believer "hates even the garments spotted with the flesh," as blood-stained and horrible.

Holy anger we shall not consider separately, but as a modification of the above: "Jesus looked on his enemies with anger, being grieved at the hardness of their hearts. It must, however, be acknowledged that we are by no means moved as we ought to be when sin or holiness presents itself, or when we are called upon to express our sentiments respecting them. The reason is, there is so much of the "flesh" in us, with all its natural bias and affection to evil, and so little of the spiritual nature, that we obtain but a glimpse of the real turpitude of sin and of the excellence of holiness; but if we were more perfect, the sinner, though in an angelic form, or with all the bewitcheries that nature sometimes attains, or sin in any of its abstract or most alluring forms, would appear black as hell; and holiness, though clothed with rags, though sunk in misery, though

destitute of every thing attractive to a natural being, would instantly become the object of love and veneration. Hence we see the importance of a truly spiritual mind. The moment that we shall quit these bodies, among our first sensations in the invisible world will be astonishment at our former errors as to the real characters of sin and holiness.

Aversion is another modification of hatred. It is this which Solomon means, Prov. iv. 14, 15: "Enter not into the path of the wicked; avoid it, turn from it, and pass away." To the same purpose, Eph. v. 11: "Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them." This is a holy delicacy, that is disgusted at that which offends God. Now if a preacher is incapable of realizing this feeling, so as to express it in an appropriate manner, he can point no shaft at sin with effect: no smarting comment will be delivered; no lash to make the sinner feel; no expressive countenance to indicate the mind abhorrent of evil; but when the preacher feels as a Christian minister ought to feel, his countenance and manner is expected to correspond with every word that is uttered.

Holy zeal has perhaps as good a claim to be called a passion as any thing that bears that name. The Christian preacher makes but a melancholy figure without it. This passion, or sensation, or quality, call it what you please, throws the whole countenance open; the eye seems to coruscate, full of ardour and impatience: in short, imagine the apostle Paul, with the family of Philip the evangelist, when the terrors of the Jewish inquisition were arrayed to restrain Paul's progress: What mean ye to weep and to break my heart? for I am ready, not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem, for the name of the Lord Jesus;" Acts xxi. 13. In the general tenour of his ministry, the love of Christ and zeal for his name constrained him to do,

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to bear, and to suffer all things for his sake and that of the church. In its more habitual or temperate forms it is a fervid and holy unction, which, overspreading every faculty of the preacher, directs every thing that he speaks, and finds a kindred feeling in the Christian heart.

When I reflect upon the concentrated power of all the holy passions that invest the true minister of Jesus Christ, I say, surely here is the finger of God; endowments hallowed to the highest ends, energies exerted with an angelforce to bring sinners to repentance. In that devoted breast we see ready for action pity for the wretched, sorrow for human woe, and compassion and benevolence for all mankind. For personal elevation of mind, faith in the promises, confidence in the cause, and the hope of a final triumph. But the wretched preacher that feels not these passions moves our commiseration, and we should as much dread falling into such an apathetic state as we should dread the palsy.*

The animation of the preacher's mind will not only give character to his countenance, but will also direct his arms and hands; and that which nature dictates, that which proceeds from holy feelings, ought to be indulged, not like the formal saws of the barn-player, but the graceful action of a Christian minister. The feeling of the mind must direct these motions of arm and hand: if the feeling be correct and strong, the action will not err materially; a graceful motion of the hands from the left to the right, with occasional elevations and extensions, such as good sense directs or a good living example recommends, should be duly cultivated.

But these preaching accomplishments, if acquired at all, must be first practised out of the pulpit; they must be practised in common conversation. The student should

* Dr. Watts on the Passions, which will supply the defects of this Lecture, may be had in 18mo. very cheap.

venture to be a little talkative in company, in order to this practice. Every thing that belongs to elocution must begin at home, not in the pulpit; there it is to appear only as a settled habit and a second nature.

The following description of the manner in which the feelings of the mind are expressed is quoted from an essay of nearly seventy years' standing, and may be acceptable to some of my readers:

Tranquillity appears by the composure of the countenance and of all parts of the body. Joy and delight, in proportion to their degree, open the countenance and elevate the voice. Love brightens the countenance into a smile, and turns the eyes as towards the object; the tone of the voice is tender and persuasive. Gratitude gently elevates the voice and the eyes, and lays the right hand upon the heart. Admiration joins with these an air of astonishment and respect. Veneration is more grave and serious, with less surprise. Shame changes the countenance and declines the head; the speaker falters in his utterance, or is silent. Remorse, or a painful sense of guilt, is further expressed by the right hand striking the breast, the eyes weeping, the body trembling; and in true penitence the eyes are sometimes raised with humble hope. Fear wide the eyes and mouth, gives to the countenance an air of wildness, covers it with paleness, projects the hands, draws back the trembling body; the voice is weak; the sentences short, confused, incoherent. Pity, which is a mixture of love and grief, looks down upon distress with lifted hands and tender eyes; the accent is plaintive, often accompanied with tears. Grief, if sudden and violent, expresses itself by beating the breast, weeping, and other attitudes approaching to distraction. Courage opens the countenance, gives the whole form an erect and graceful air; the voice is firm, even, and articulate. Anger expresses itself with rapidity, harshness, noise, and a threatening attitude.

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