ART. V.-THE ENDLESS SERMON.

ALL eyes were toward the preacher. His eloquence was magnetic. His grip upon the congregation was wonderful. He swayed the audience for an hour with the mastery of mind. He reached the climax with a few drawn to their feet, many wiping their eyes, while the clergy at his side bowed their heads for the concluding prayer. There was a solemn pause, which had its dramatic effect. But, to the surprise of all, the speaker began, in a low tone, to draw inferences which consumed twenty-five minutes, then closed with a fatigued pulpit and pew. An old man was overheard to say, "The preacher this morning wounded the cords of love tightly round his audience in the fust hour but unwound them agen in the last part of the business. If he'd only sot down when he was through he'd 'a had 'em sure!" At the dinner table my hostess, a very intelligent lady, said, "Please do not say a word against the press," to one who was inclined to criticise it, "for the press is often wiser and mightier than the pulpit." "What do you mean?" was the quick inquiry. "I mean that an editor, when he prepares an article for publication, knows how, when, and where to end. Doctor Simeon this morning showed that he understood the art of public speech in all but that of sitting down when the discourse had reached its natural conclusion." All at the table felt the criticism to be just. Knowing that this kindly Christian lady had made a special study of the arts of reading, writing, and speaking, I sought an opportunity to draw out her views on the art of public speech. "It is not my place to instruct preachers," she began, "but since you are one of the younger men I may give you a suggestion or two which may prove helpful. For thirty years I have been favored with the opportunity to hear the ablest speakers of England and America, and those who appeared to make the most lasting impression had a natural end for their discourse and sat down when they came to it. I once made a classification of the preachers who failed in this art of sitting down as the perverts, the padders, the faggers, and the flounderers.

"I have found that the preacher usually desires to do his best

and leave an influence for good, but he often perverts that purpose by taking valuable time to inform his auditors that he has almost finished, when he should really be getting through. Here are a few of the expressions which I have heard from the pulpit this season, from men who ought to be wiser: 'I must hasten;' 'The clock is going too fast;' 'Finally;' 'Bear with me a moment or two more;' 'Just this one point and I am through;' 'Now I am going to close ;' 'I know it is hot, but if I can stand it you can.' Without an exception, the speakers continued for ten or fifteen minutes after making such statements. One of the preachers began: 'My dear friends, I know it is very warm to-night and I am not going to detain you long.' He preached an hour and twenty minutes.

"On one occasion I listened to one of the ablest of our younger men. He made an excellent speech; had a brilliant climax. The people were delighted and all expected him to sit down; but he began to pad the conclusion. When asked why he continued after making such a climax he replied, 'I thought I did not make it quite clear.' He was like an artist completing a picture with all the qualities of its art, then daubing it over and spoiling the perspective, proportion, and expression. The public speaker must early learn the art of a properly prepared end for his speech. To know what not to do and what not to say, at the close of a discourse, is vitally important. The end should be so constructed in the study that it requires no fixing up on the platform.

The faggers usually begin on a high key, ring, roar, gleam, and sparkle for a time, then, like a piece of variegated fireworks, lose their glaring beauty, fall and die. At times its vigor, vim, and vitality tend to slumbering, and both the instructor and the instructed have lost their grip and glow of soul.

"I was once at sea when the fog was so dense and the fog horn blowing so constantly that the passengers were alarmed. The captain seemed to have lost his bearings; for when a fishing smack drew near he shouted, 'Where are we at? I have listened to so many men who were certainly floundering in a mental, moral, and religious fog; they were at their wits' end to know when to sit down. They had no end. Embarrassed? That would express it; there was alarm with the preacher and distress with the con

gregation. I have found such-perverters, padders, faggers, and flounderers-are trouble breeders; empty pews, careless listeners, fault-finders follow in their track."

I listened with deep attention. I was concerned; my interest was aroused; for my lifework was connected with the greatest question of life. I was dealing in the relations to the Infinite, which meant weal or woe to a misdirected mass of infinite humanity. "You have shown me the conditions," I said, “but have you a cure for the fault you have found?" She smiled, and then said, "I think I have." "Proceed," said I.

"It is better to know where to end a speech than to know where to begin," she suggested. "If you are to neglect any part of your discourse never let it be the last part. M. Bautain, in his book, The Art of Extempore Speaking, says, 'It is difficult to begin an extemporary discourse, it is still more difficult to finish well.' John Bright always prepared the close of his speeches with much care. Lord Brougham said that his celebrated speech before the House of Lords in defense of Queen Caroline was composed twenty times over, at least. Horace declares, 'He who has begun well has half done his work.' But the facts of to-day show that he only completes his work who knows when to sit down." Here she excused herself for a moment, then returned with a book and read this paragraph to me:

You must acquire another art, much more difficult than you would think it to be, the Art of Sitting Down. How few speakers have mastered this! How few know when to stop-or how to stop! How often do those who have spoken well mar the whole effect by an unhappy ending! They wind up feebly, or, worse, they do not wind up at all. They appear to be coming to a close, but just when we expect to see them sit down they start off again upon some new path and wander about drearily; perhaps repeating this process many times, to the sore trial of the patience of the audience, and are withal further from the end which they seek. Strive to avoid such a calamity. Better any defect at the close than a protracted ending. If you have not got up a formal climax content yourself with stopping when you have said what you have to say, even though it may not be with a flourish. If you do not win a burst of applause you will at least give no offense. You will obtain credit for good sense, if not for eloquence; and certainly the former is the more useful faculty for the vast majority of purposes for which the Art of Speaking is required to be exercised in the business of life.

"That sounds like good counsel," I said. "I should like to hear it again." "Since I find you deeply concerned in this vital subject I will leave with you three I's which I trust you will never forget in your public discourse. The first I stands for Interest; you must interest an audience if you ever expect to help them."

This reminds me of a story which the Rev. Sam Jones is said to have related: "After one of my sermons, which held the attention of a large congregation to the close, a serious-minded minister, who could preach an hour and a quarter to fifty people, came to me, and said, 'Jones, if I preached like you I should lose my religion.' I looked at him with a smile and said, “That might be so, but if I preached like you I should lose my congregation; and I would rather lose my religion than my congregation, for I could get my religion again to-morrow, but my congregation never.'

"The second I," she continued, "stands for Information. If you will only watch an audience when a bit of real information is being dealt out you will see its influence and grow to know its value. The simplest facts of life will hold the attention of the most refined and will be pleasing to the less educated. The third I is for Inspiration. Put fire into your speech or put your speech into the fire. Send the auditors home so deeply wrought upon that they will have a living desire for the truth to shine out in their daily walks.

"All that I have to say in conclusion is that the speaker who desires to be effective must understand the Art of the Preparation of the End of the Discourse and sit down when he has reached it. He must master it with his mind, he must warm it at the glowing altars of the heart, he must steep it in tears and in prayers, he must fasten it upon his own soul; then with hooks of steel grip the souls of those before him and hold them to the last. The speech that is endless is the one with an end."

S. Treseva Jackson

ART. VI.-A MESSAGE FROM THE PAST TO THE

PRESENT.

Too many modern studies in the Old Testament are accompanied by controversial discussions which tend to obscure the real, permanent significance of the Old Testament revelation. It is my purpose to point out in the following pages, by a concrete example rather than by abstract discussion, the permanent significance of the Old Testament and the perfect adaptability of its messages to the conditions that confront the minister of the Gospel to-day. As illustration I shall use the activity and teaching of the prophets of Jehovah during the eighth century B. C.

Four great prophets arose during this period: Amos and Hosea in Israel, Isaiah and Micah in Judah. Before considering the application of the message to present conditions it will be necessary to study the conditions to which the prophets addressed themselves and to secure a clear idea of the contents of their message.

I. The period in which the first of the eighth century prophets was called to his office was one of singular external prosperity for both Israel and Judah. About 783 B. C. there had ascended the throne of Israel Jeroboam II; by his hand, in the words of 2 Kings xiv, 27, Jehovah "saved" Israel. He was a soldier, assumed the aggressive, and recovered the territory which Israel had lost to Damascus under Jehoahaz, the son and successor of Jehu. As a result of Jeroboam's victories the territory of Israel extended from Hamath, in the valley of the Orontes in the north, to the lower end of the Dead Sea. During the same period the territory of Judah was correspondingly expanded. Commerce also sprang up, bringing into the country wealth unheard of since the days of the queen of Sheba. The natural resources of the country were for the first time allowed to assert themselves; and thus the two kingdoms rose to a pitch of power and prosperity greater than they had enjoyed since the days of Solomon. But prosperity, as it so often has done, brought great evils in its train. A class of wealthy nobles arose who swept the smaller holdings