Power in Preaching

An editorial in an American journal on "Power in Preaching," as illustrated by the example of the celebrated Bossuet, quotes a significant sentence from Bungener, a French writer, which says that "Bossuet's words proceeded from the depths of his soul, and all that comes from the soul is eloquent." There never was a sheerer truism than this: "It is," says that journal, "the greatest secret of eloquence." But it is so complete a truism that it has become a sort of common-place, and is "so obvious, in fine, that it fails to be observed." It is "an open secret" of pulpit power, acknowledged at once by all who can appreciate true eloquence, but seldom emphasized by students of elocution.

The editor says, justly, that "were it true of any other art, that a certain condition or frame of the mind would secure success, how the fact would be prized! If such a condition would really enable the student to learn a language, or to play on a given instrument of music, would it not be considered a paramount thing? If it could give a curative power to a remedy in disease, would it not be one of the greatest of facts? It has, indisputably, an analogous power in public speaking: every body admits the fact when it is fairly stated, but hardly any public speaker gives it special attention. This, we think, is a correct view of the case. We doubt that any one will question it. Other things, of course, are presupposed. The speaker must be more or less prepared, by study of his subject, to say something worthy of attention—worthy of eloquent enforcement. He should have a tolerable style, to say the least; and competent general training: but with these and a hundred other qualifications, he may be utterly destitute of popular eloquence; he may be the very impersonation of dullness in the desk, and his audience a picture of stupidity. Who has not seen men of profoundest logical powers utterly powerless in the pulpit? But let the deep thinker be set on fire; let his subject become incandescent, and how he becomes armed with irresistible force! How erect the attitude, how intense the gaze of his hearers becomes! How his sentences strike like hammers on the anvil, and how his thoughts flash and fly, like scintillations from the telling blows.

The greatest qualification, then, for power in the pulpit is a moral one—earnestness, sincere, direct aim to teach and enforce the lesson of the subject. And this moral qualification, we need hardly say, is universally attainable. The humblest ambassador of Christ may have it in perfection, and thus stand forth before the people imbued with a divine magnetism, armed with power from on high. It is to be obtained in his closet of prayer, on his knees. It should be cherished and confirmed till it becomes habitual with him, so that he shall never enter the pulpit but with an intent, all absorbing, overpowering purpose—the purpose to save the souls of the people and his own soul, by the faithful discharge of the duty of the hour. This, we repeat, will make him eloquent in the best sense of the word.

Several important advantages result from such moral earnestness—such singleness of purpose.

It is a sure preventive against imitation and affectation. Many a minister is a copyist of the faults rather than the excellencies of his model. Good old Dr. Nathan Bangs had an ungraceful inclination of his head toward his left shoulder; it is said that, when he was presiding elder, his young preachers could generally be distinguished, at the annual conference, by the same fault. He had good qualities to be copied, but they had copied only his defects. Cicero speaks of this liability as seen among the young orators of his day. Now intense moral earnestness, sincere devotion to the one great end of pulpit work, would soon divest the preacher of all such faults. "A man is never more himself than when he is thoroughly in earnest." His individuality is sure then to get the uppermost. His attitude, his gesticulation, and his very vocalization, will be all his own.

But, secondly, not only will they be all his own, but they will thus be nominally suitable, that is to say, effective, eloquent. It is wonderful how a strong, earnest passion, renders right and effective all the exterior accompaniments of public discourse. Even a man of chronic awkwardness becomes correct and imposing when swayed by strong feeling in his utterance. He assumes at once, however, unconsciously, the expression of features, the rich modulation of voice, the right gesticulation. Only a false passion can give false expression.

Thirdly, thorough moral earnestness greatly facilitates preaching. The cross, as it is often called, of pulpit labor, is most generally the burden of selfish anxiety with which we enter the holy desk; and self is the heaviest burden that humanity has to carry. We fear criticism; with our best motives mixes an egotistical anxiety respecting the intellectual exhibition of ourselves, which we are to make in the sermon. This is, indeed, human nature: but human nature in the ambassador of Christ should be regenerated nature. Let us understand fully what preaching should be; let us consecrate ourselves, with utter singleness of aim, to its divine end—the rescue of soul; let us enter the holy place absorbed by this one purpose, and anxiety for self (except for our escape from unholy selfishness) will vanish; we shall be borne aloft over our own weakness and fears, by the directness and singleness of our aim; and, thus self-emancipated, we shall find that all our faculties have freer play; that the mightiest powers within us, the powers of the heart, energize the powers of the head, and electrified themselves, by the power from on high, they will electrify all who hear us. This is true eloquence, and this is the easiest way to preach.— Abel Stevens, LL.D.

It is told of a pastor that he encouraged infidelity in his church, by devoting too much time in the discussion of objections made to the gospel by infidels and sceptics. Many of his people never heard the theories of unbelief till he told them, and as his statements were often better than his replies, they were influenced by the former rather than by the latter.

His mistake is one not hard to make. We have known of ministers who almost shook the faith of their hearers in the Bible by pointing out mistakes in the translation, and of others who tinkered so much at textual difficulties, that they lessened the reverence of their parishioners for the truths they wished to inculcate.

Men can better employ their time when in the pulpit, in preaching the gospel. Let Jesus Christ and him crucified be preached, fully and constantly; people will not be led astray by that.— United Presbyterian.

—Horace Greeley said of the Bible in the public schools: "It seems strange that the book which we regard as the best in the world should be the only one excluded from our schools."

—No truer word has been spoken to the workingmen than Dr. Ganse of St. Louis, in regard to the Sabbath: "Don't girdle the tree that shades you."