Of all the callings known to me none is so imperfectly understood as preaching. With many it is the only calling wholly free from care—a life of rest, of dignified ease, and painless luxury. Nothing could be more erroneous than this. No other calling pursued by man imposes burdens more numerous, none burdens so weighty. No responsibilities are so heavy as those of the preacher; and where else can duties be found of a nature so delicate, and requiring in their perfor­mance so much skill? A few thoughts on the calling I think urgently called for, and these not simply for the benefit of the occupants of the pew, but equally for that of the occupants of the pulpit.

That the best talents of earth should be conse­crated to the preaching of the gospel is with me nothing below a truism. Not that it should not be pleaded by humble talents, but only that certainly the best should be devoted to it. We want the gospel preached by every rank of men, by him who has one talent, by him who has ten, but especially by the latter. For all these men God has work, and requires each to do it. Our motto is, Let every man work in his sphere, and each up the measure of his ability. Then will God’s work be done, never till then. For the humble preacher of one talent God has laid off a little nook in his great field, and into that little nook requires him to thrust his sickle. If he fail, the Lord will not acquit him. Then let not his small work be despised. Rather let him be honored for it, and the more because he is willing to do it, though small. Against these modest workers I often hear brethren speaking in a way that hurts me much, in a way which I feel to be little else than cruel. Cavalierly they are talked of as “never preaching anything but faith, repentance, and baptism.” Dear men, how I honor them for knowing even this much of Christ’s most precious truth, and for faith­fully preaching what they know. Would that all others did so much, especially their critics. Because they know only faith, repentance, and baptism, and hence cannot preach more, shall they therefore not preach at all? How, then, shall they ever render an account to Him who will require “mine own, with the usury thereon?” Brethren are very incon­siderate sometimes in their criticisms, and wound where, because least deserved, it gives keenest pain. Gently speak of him who toils through life with his lone talent, doing his Master’s will as best he can, despite of your unkind comments. Your own account may be more difficult to adjust than his.

Certainly the man who has one talent can not accomplish so much, as he who has five or ten. These, therefore, we want in the field [253] not because they are more lovely, but because they till a greater breadth. That work we would not neglect, still less this. The man whose broad intellect and noble heart can impress a whole State with the truth, may certainly be more highly considered than he whose little neighbor­hood alone has felt his presence; but he is not therefore to be more gently spoken of or tenderly loved. I admire greatly the towering forest oak, but fondly look on the fragile shrub which lends me the fragrance of its rose. Let no uncivil critiques tear his feelings to whom God has seen fit to confide but a single talent.

But we live in an age of great mental activity, in an age when the champions of error are giants in intellect and scholar­ship. To meet and vanquish these, and still maintain the truth high above danger, we need great masters in the art of preaching; and to have these we require men of strong, bright intellects; men of commanding learning, deep glowing thought, and never-flagging energy. We need men whose hearts are sweet and fathomless with love, and whose whole natures are mellowed with piety; men whose spirits have been broken with grief, and in whom stand great wells of sympathy for sinning ruined man. We want men who can brush error from the soul with a hand velvety as the down itself; and who yet, when need so demands can sabre down the haughty foe of truth with a blade broad, keen and irresis­tible; men whose art in logic shall be unmatched; whose witching manner, and subtle, over­powering persuasion shall bear down all before it to the will of Christ; men from whose lips truth distills, sparkling as it falls like drops of dew, and who still can clothe it in words a child can understand. These are the men the age and the cause we plead demand. But still we need others. The man of nine talents stands just one degree below him who has ten. Him, there­fore, we need. He fills a niche in God’s great fane no one else can fill, can do a work which must forever remain undone without him. We can not do without the man of nine talents; and so on with the man of eight, the man with seven, and on over the whole scale to unity. We must have them all, and will despise none. Because the man with one talent can not work so magnificently as he who has ten, we will not contemn the man with one, nor deify the man with ten. We will look on all as gifts from God, will adore our bountiful Benefactor, and endeavor, in humility, so to use his gifts that he will, not only not shut his gracious hand against us, but will bless us still beyond all we can ask or think.

But how shall we command the men of whom we speak? How bring them into the field; and how keep them there when in it? These are grave questions. I wish I had an answer to them. It must be confessed, deep as is our sorrow while making it, that the church holds out few incen­tives to men of talents, in the present day, to become ministers in her holy things. Indeed, beyond the solitary prospect of [254] doing good, I do not see that she is holding out even one. Rather does she not deter from her fields than invite into them? I believe it is so; but let us see. A preacher is ambitious to become eminent in his calling, “a workman that need not be ashamed;” he has talents, and is conscious of them; these he wants to strengthen and polish by every means which books and thought can supply. He loves Christ with an absorbing love, and longs to see his name glorified in the earth to the widest possible extent. Over fallen humanity he profoundly mourns, and yearns to contribute whatever may be in his power to save it. What prospect opens up to this man in the church? Is it a decent living for self and family, with a little cot he can call mine, in which to die when his work is done? Is it a library, even respectable in the variety and number of its volumes? No such prospects as these promise even to reward him should he engage to preach. On the contrary, unless he is an exception to a general rule, he may with certainty count on being through life homeless as the beasts of the jungle. Never during his career may he expect to be able, more than once, should his horse lie down and die, to replace him without going in debt; and as for books, especially such as are suitable, he never need look for more of these than he can carry in a common valise. As proof, in part at least, of what I am saying, I jot down the two following cases:

One day while I lived in Georgetown, this State, an aged preacher sat by my hearth. He was venerable for his years, and venerable for his almost unequaled work in his Master’s cause. He told me himself he kept count till he had immersed with own hands over six thousand human beings. He was infirm with age and very sad. His head was white, exceeding white; his beard was long and gray. His clothes were poor, almost mean. His spirits were low, his heart was bitter; very bitter. He thus discoursed: “My brother, I have been a true man; I have preached the true gospel of Jesus Christ, and never have I faltered. Through life I have wrought on scanty fare, yet with fidelity have I wrought. I am now old and infirm; my work is done; destitute I bring it to an end. My grief is great, for I am in want. Here I am on the edge of the grave, forgotten and neglected by my brethren. Even by my God I seem to be deserted. What shall I do? In the anguish of my spirit, for it is great, I have some­times thought of suicide.” My soul! did these ears ever hear that piteous tale? “Suicide!” ah, that is the word I so quickly caught, and which still hangs like a death-bell in my ear. But of my emotions and feelings I do not propose to give any account. The reader is left to conjecture these.

While I now write, and within less than one mile of where I write, there stays an infirm brother many miles from home. He is traveling to acquaint the brethren with his wants, and to ask of them the boon [255] which, as a just reward for a life of labor in Christ, has been denied to him. His name is indelicately paraded over the country in our public prints, and his wants and circum­stances discussed as flip­pantly as if he were some new popular invention just coming into notice. He is not yet heavy with years, but is much wasted by disease; he has done a work for Christ, of which all speak with pleasure, and many with pride and exultation. By all he is highly considered; by many, tenderly loved. Yet when his infirm and over-wrought body should be enjoying a little rest in a quiet spot he could call home, he is far from wife and pets literally asking for bread. Is this a prospect to entice young men of fine intel­lects and noble natures into the field as preachers? Perhaps so. But why, I shall be asked, have I alluded to these two cases? My reasons are two. First, to appeal to my brethren, in the name of Christ and of humanity, to see to it that their preachers are not reduced to these extremities. Brethren, have we not reached a point in our history when change is demanded in the circum­stances of our public men? Shall these faithful servants of God longer go neglected as they have here­tofore been? Should you dwell in palaces, while they toil through life house­less? Shall your broad table groan beneath the weight of luxuries, while they, on scanty boards, eat their small fare in gratitude and tears? Is this right? Lay the question to your hearts in the sight of Him who is searching you to the bottom, and will sift you as wheat. Your preachers do not ask for wealth, but enough God has appointed as their reward. Are you keeping it back? If so, better for you that all the armies of the North and of the South were on your fields, and all the frogs and lice of Egypt in your beds. I pray you not utterly to deter young brethren from the field by the poverty in which you are suffering your aged preachers to end life. Young men are dis­heartened by these sights. They are over­whelmed by the prospect of probable want while yet young, and of beggary when old. Surely we have a right to expect the change we ask.

Second: I want to dissuade our editors from publishing the wants and sorrows of these men all over the land to their own exquisite pain and our scandal as a people. That this is done from the kindest motives and most benevolent feelings I thoroughly know. Still, surely it is not right. In the first place, it does little good. Last winter while lying sick, and living daily on borrowed money for three months, a brotherly editor, in the generousness of his nature and sympathy of his heart, called the attention of the brother­hood to my case, and asked for a thousand additional subscribers to the Quarterly and a little fraternal relief in the form of green­backs. Toward my brother I could have no feelings but those of gratitude and kind­ness for his act. But what did it amount to? It brought me ten dollars from New Orleans and one subscriber from Illinois—not one cent more [256] nor another name. Thus his appeal was wasted on insensible hearts; the space in his paper lost; and my own head made to go down in shame. The sum received multiplied a hundred times could not have compen­sated me for the pain the notice gave. No; when I am allowed to come to want, let God and my wife know the secret, but none others through the press. Nobly should we remember the poor; but in minis­trations to their wants the left hand must not know what the right does.

If efforts are to be made to purchase a home for a brother, let no publication be made of the fact through the papers. By all means let the home be bought; but bring the matter to the ears of the brethren in some other more effectual way. Printing it will fail. Even brethren read these notices with too cold an ear. They rarely bring relief. Let some active man, kind in heart, take the matter in hand, and set out to raise the required sum by visiting brethren personally, and making a direct appeal to each. As a general rule, he will raise more money in this way in one church than can be raised in ten by printing. Thus those painful wants of the children of God will be kept from an unappre­ciating world, and the cause will be saved from scandal.

I am profoundly anxious to see the very finest young men of the land in the field as preachers. But till more ample provision has been made to meet their wants, is it right to invite them in? Is it just—just to them or just in itself? It will not do to talk prettily of provi­dence and the good­ness of God. Provi­dence and the good­ness of God never yet supported a preacher in a community of illiberal brethren. Where brethren with­hold, provi­dence is strin­gent. It is cheap talk to tell a young man to go forth nobly to the work, trusting in God. Certainly we must not distrust God; but God has ordained that they who preach the gospel shall thereby live. He will support them in no other way. Neither will he work a miracle to make men liberal. When Christians do nothing, the Lord does nothing, except to hold them guilty. Depend on this, what­ever is done for preachers has to be done by the brethren, else it will not be done at all. God has placed his treasure in their hands, and expects them to dispense it. There remains to us no other source.

That one of the surest methods of effecting the end of which I speak would be to place in the field the men we need, I well know. The men them­selves would create the supply of their wants. At least would they do this to some extent. But how shall young men be made to see this? Till they do see it they can not consent to preach. Here lies the diffi­culty. The truth is, that, by our greatly increased liberality and by our better provision for our preachers, we must given them a guaranty that they will be properly cared for. Then shall we induce them to undertake the work, not before. [257]

But I have suffered myself to be led a long way into a ramble not thought of when I sat down to the present task. More especially was it my purpose to speak of the work of preachers, and not of the work of others. To this duty, therefore, I now address myself.

The time was when as a people we talked much of the “ancient order of things.” I am sorry that we should have grown some­what silent on the topic. Let us now amend a little. “I taught you,” says Paul, “publicly and from house to house.” This was clearly the ancient order as to teaching. I wish it were the modern. On it we must not even hope to improve. At present I speak not of public teaching, but of teaching from house to house. Teaching publicly is the noblest of arts, but teaching from house to house is the perfec­tion of teaching. Never will our preachers accom­plish the whole volume of good they are capable of till they fully inaugurate this system. To do this changes will be necessary.

We must utterly abandon our old routine of monthly preaching. It was always a bad system; now it is intolerable. It holds the place of something incomparably better, to which it should be sternly required to give place. In time gone possibly it was necessary; now it is worse than useless. Against it, as an expedient of the past, I have nothing to say. Brethren trans­planted it from the sects into the kingdom of God at a time when they saw not clear enough to do better. It is an exotic. We have fully tried it, and found it to yield little else than bad fruit. The time has fully come when it should be banished from the realm as an evil weed. To get rid of it will cost us some trouble; and, it may be, give some pain. For that we should feel ready; but this let us prevent to the full extent of our power. In effecting the change, if possible, let the feelings of none be wounded. Especially let us show ourselves tenderly regardful of the feelings of the vener­able men who chiefly still practice the system. If possible, let us not only not give them pain, but try to entice them into a more excellent way.

Our whole system of congregational education must undergo a change. But I must drop general terms and enter into details.

On settling with a church the first thing a preacher should do is to get a full list of the names of all its members. With these members he should immedi­ately become acquainted, so as to be able to speak readily the name of each at sight. In meeting his flock, courtesy and kind­ness should charac­terize his manner. Haughti­ness and coldness should be studi­ously avoided; but above all, too great famili­arity. Nothing is more disgusting than vulgar intimacy; nor does any­thing destroy sooner the influence of a preacher. Neither allow it nor practice it. Greet all the senior or married members of the body by their surnames. Never use their given names. Do not say Brother John, Brother Joe, Sister Jane. This is intoler­able. In turn you will [258] soon become Brother Bob or Brother Sam. Now, while I do not want my brethren to be shy of me, I do not want to be Bobbed or Sammed. Dignity is in the surname; it must hence always be used. Let this be pronounced with full­ness, and precisely as the family pronounce it. Take no liberties with it; and pay no attention to how neighbors pronounce it. They are often wrong. The family know their name; and courtesy makes them the law in pronouncing it. It is gentler to call the junior members by their given names. A different course is stiff and finikin. By some it is held as a mark of breeding, but it is clearly a mark of the want of it. The given name is more paternal, and better comports with the relation an affec­tionate preacher bears to the “little ones” for whom he cares.

Some preachers are very fond of kissing one sex of their flock; but it is very curious that, though moved to their affec­tionate act purely by their love of Christ, they never kiss the other sex, nor do they ever thus fondly greet the aged sisters. These men, no doubt, are very amorous and very suspicious, and are quite right in evincing how in Christ they do love certain sheep of the fold. Still I would advise all such preachers to refrain from kissing, and all churches of Christ to refrain from such preachers.

It will be well for a preacher on beginning his labors with a church not to promise too much. If he fails, it will be to him a consolation to know that, at least, he has broken no pledges. Do much and promise little is an excellent rule. Great pretensions justly lead us to expect but small results; and it is ludicrous to create large expec­tations and do nothing. Modesty holds out no great induce­ments, but meets the occasion. This is better.

In speaking of your prede­cessor be cautious. Never find fault with him; and even where you deem him wrong say nothing. Preachers never promote them­selves by speaking against preachers. Let your conduct indicate your views, not your words. If his brethren speak against him, given them no counte­nance. Tattling is not of Christ. Neither allow yourself to be flattered by contrasts drawn in which your conduct is lauded and his faulted. His failures may have been due to inter­ference from false brethren. Be shy how you commit yourself to people till you know them.

Where you deem changes necessary in a congregation introduce them as imper­ceptibly as possible. Innovations, as such, are not popular; and brethren feel them­selves reflected upon when you pronounce their past life wrong. Abrupt changes will breed suspicion and lead to talk. Avoid these. Suggest alter­ations, but never command them. An imperious manner alienates and excites oppo­sition. Gentleness and love will effect what authority never can. Your brethren will delight to please you where you ask it; they will decline where you demand it. [259]

Keep all your plans to yourself; and let the church learn them only as you unfold them in practice. Many a man fails by telling beforehand what he is going to do. Your views, as such, if expressed at once, will be criti­cised. Shun this. The members of a church, as a general rule, are poor critics. They are respectable at fault- finding, but fail in criticism. Further: plans in the abstract are appreciated by few. It is only when seen in actual operation that their value is felt. Hence it is better to with­hold them till you can thus manifest them. A comment on a plan working well can be under­stood by all, and will be at once received, whereas a previous explanation will be unsatisfactory.

In managing a church, work up to your strength; but in talk, reserve much unsaid. The tongue at last has to repeat itself, but the path of action is ever varying. When your resources fail, of whatever kind, you will become contempt­ible. Carefully, then, watch the fountain which is the soonest to run dry. With a repeated act we are never dissatis­fied, with a repeated thought never pleased. On the contrary, a recurring act often gives pleasure; but a returning thought never.

With the members of your flock your acquaintance must be thorough. You must know their minds, know their hearts, know their lives. Without this know­ledge you will be constantly blundering. You will often wound where it is unjust, and praise where you should censure. The appearance men put on is not always the fact to which we should speak. Behind this often lies the real circum­stance demanding our attention; and till you do know men, beware how you speak to them or of them. Pertinent speech is a rare art for a preacher. Study to speak to the real, not to the apparent state of the case.

Of course, your great whole work respects your brethren as Christians. Two compre­hensive generali­zations will both include and exhaust this work—enlighten­ment and action. Now your first concern will be as to enlighten­ment. By every means in your power, not forbidden by Christi­anity, must you carry forward the education of the disciples in the Holy Scrip­tures. Your failure to do this will be fatal. Neglect here is the great ruining sin of the age. As soon as the children of God begin to neglect the minute and exhaustive study of his word, their theory of Christi­anity will begin to become dim. This dimness will first show itself on the far outer edges of the kingdom. Gradually it will extend toward the centre. As this neglect increases, the dimness will deepen. The shadows of night, thin at first, will imper­ceptibly thicken as they grow longer. If the neglect still go on, on still will grow the shadows. Thus an eclipse of the glorious light of the gospel becomes not a violent future improbability. Already it has once occurred. We look for it again. By perseverance and great energy we may postpone indefinitely its return; but it will come. [260]

You will see to it that each member of the body is engaged in the daily reading and study of the truth. No abate­ment must be allowed to occur. By every stimulant which ingenuity can suggest must you keep up this work. He who habitually neglects the study of God’s word is never safe; he who habitu­ally studies it is never very unsafe. By all means, then, have that word studied. Have it studied in the family circle, in the social circle, in the Sunday school; but especi­ally have it studied by each member individually and privately. Reading the Scriptures is good; but reading them in the popular way is not enough. By reading them, we imbibe their spirit; by studying them, collect their thought. The thought becomes the rule of action, the spirit determines its manner. Hence both are indispensable. But in collecting thought we are active; in imbibing spirit, passive. Hence that is difficult, this is easy. Both are equally necessary. The difference lies in acquiring them. Both must have the constant attention of the preacher. On these will depend the power of his church for good, and in them certainly will consist its happiness. In a lovely spirit, in bright, divine thought, and action strictly conformed thereto, consists the perfection of Christianity.

To be profitable, the study of the Holy Scriptures must be severe, protracted, and minute. This will prevent our attempting to master too much at one lesson. Than this, nothing can be more injurious. Vague general views of large sections are of little value. A single verse thoroughly studied is worth a whole book care­lessly read. To render this work successful, the preacher himself must take the lead in it. He must be both pupil and teacher. As pupil, he must be the example; as teacher, must guide the labors of others. He must himself be the illus­tration of his plans. He will sit down with his brethren and actually show them how the Scrip­tures are to be studied. Each word he will trace to its root, and thus obtain its original meaning. He will then point out its usage at the present time, especially its usage in the New Testament. He will show how to gather the scope of a passage; and then which meaning of a word this scope requires. Thus he will teach how the sense of Scrip­ture is unfolded and brought out. Every member of his church he will keep constantly at this work. At first this will be difficult, but habit will render it easy. For a long time progress will be slow; but the faithful preacher, having first determined that his work is right, will never falter in it. He will sow seed this year to be reaped ten hence. He is a philosopher who can do this.

A very large proportion of his whole time the preacher should spend in visiting the members of his flock. These visits should not be mere fashion­able calls. Such visits usually discri­minate between the rich and the poor; and just in so far as they do this they are injurious. The preacher’s visits should be visits with an object; visits full of [261] heart, and looking to the well-being of those whom he serves. Other­wise they are simply fruitless of good. These visits should be short and frequent. In each, be sure to accomplish some­thing. Never permit a failure. Right action should be the great end of these visits, not simply right in a single item, but univer­sally right. But let each visit look to a single act. Should you attempt too much, you are almost certain to fail. Do one thing at a time, and do that well, is one of the soundest maxims in the world. Of course, each member, like patients down with different diseases, will require a different treat­ment. With one, the object will be to cure an evil habit of speech; with another, and evil temper; with a third, remiss­ness in attending church. Much skill and delicacy will here be required. The attempted cure is a reflection on the former life. This may induce irritation and ill feeling. In this event you can effect but little. Keep the spirit mellow and kind when faults are to be remedied. In all cases it will be well to precede your work with prayer. Take the party aside whom you propose to benefit; explain to him that the object of your visit is his happiness as a Christian; then bow with him in fervent prayer. This will becalm his spirit and subdue his heart. Now strike. This is the golden moment. Let your own spirit be imbued with the profoundest love and tender­ness. Your cure may not at first be complete, but you will not often fail to make an impression. Follow up this impression before it is lost. Deepen it by repetition, till success, complete success, crowns your effort. Your own joy will now be great indeed.

The whole routine of Christian life will thus be called up and made the subject of special thought and teaching. Never consent that your congre­gation shall be simply respectable. This is a relative position, and may be infinitely bad. The standard you must rear for your church is positive, not relative. It is that laid down in the New Testament. Compromise on no ground below this standard. Nobly work for the proud elevation. Failure will then be the fault of others, not yours. Literally, you must teach your flock everything. You must teach them how to read, how to think, how to speak, how to pray, how to get, how to give—in a word, how to do, and what to do; how to be, and what to be. This you can never do success­fully from the public stand. From house to house alone can you do this. A church taught merely from the pulpit will never be aught else than neither cold nor hot. I never knew an exception to this statement. Teaching from the pulpit may mold the thought; but it is teaching from house to house which molds the action. Hence the two are the complement and perfection of teaching. Neither can be dispensed with; but of the two, the latter is now the great necessity, both with our preachers and in our churches. The former we have respectably tried, but with us as a people the latter is a thing whose efficacy is [262] yet to be tested. The sooner the test is made, the safer will it be for the churches of Christ.

Teaching from house to house has another advantage over teaching publicly. It affords an oppor­tunity of actually exemp­lifying many of life’s most important duties. One great aim of the true preacher is to induce all the members of his flock to pray. To accomplish this he will find one of his greatest diffi­culties. Lectures from the pulpit will achieve but little. The closet is the place to effect this. Let each member, if his life is not already thoroughly known, be asked the question when alone and in the proper mood, Are you accustomed to pray each morning and each night? If the reply is no, you now have work to do. With this reply you must never rest satisfied. You must have a different life and a different reply. Take this brother into the closet and actually teach him how to pray. Why not? Do we not teach our children by actual example how to work arith­metic, how to read, and even how to hoe? And is prayer less important than these? By actual example we teach our children how to walk, how to sit, how to talk, how to ride, and how to bow, and is prayer of less value than these? Our daughters are taught how make butter, soup, and tea, but never how to pray. They are taught how to make toast, curls, and lace, and how to grace a parlor, but never how to grace a closet and commune with God. Is this right? Few will say yes. I repeat, then, take this brother into the closet. Explain to him your object in the tenderest manner possible. Then request him to bow with you, and make him actually repeat after you a prayer. Let it be very brief, say the following: Our Father in heaven, have mercy on me, forgive my sins, give me my daily bread, keep me from temp­tation, and save me at last. Amen. Ask him to repeat this morning and night till his own soul compels him to make enlarge­ments, and till a habit has been formed. His case is not far from hope­less if he declines. Explain to him that length has nothing to do with the value of a prayer, and how it is that even the shortest may be the best. Thus will you be bringing up the child of God in the way in which he should walk. He will not depart from it when old. Besides, nothing inspires a people with so much affection for a preacher as this species of inter­course with them. They know it to be right, and respect the heart that seeks to bring them to it. Other illus­trations might be adduced of what I here mean, but for the present this must suffice. A few hints is all I can now drop.

But in the present article I propose merely to inaugurate a topic. Its ampli­fi­cation must follow when we are ready for it. Enough has been said for one lesson. [263]

[Volume IV: July, 1867.]

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