"The Gospel is at once a religion, and a theology; one side of it is familiar, easy of comprehension to all, popular, concrete. But it has another side in which it appears as a system of abstract truth, difficult of understanding even to practiced and sanctified intellect. Here it has relations neither few nor unimportant with history, with language, with the physical sciences, with psychology, with metaphysics. It is itself the Scientia Scientiarum, the queen of sciences, the meeting-point of all the ways of thought, the ultimate arbiter of the many questions which move the mind of man. Thus it is digested into treatises; it affords play and occupation to the most keen and earnest thinkers; it is nothing less than a vast intellectual power. Reason, imagination, the sense of truth, and the sense of beauty are all entertained by it. But the Gospel has another aspect. It is not merely proclaimed by the higher intelligences; it is wrapped in swaddling-clothes; it is laid in a manger. The Gospel is not merely a philosophy; it is the religion of mankind; it is the religion of the uneducated and the poor. It appeals to their daily wants and their deepest sympathies. It speaks in plain words of the sense of sin, of the atoning blood, of the power of the blessed Spirit, of the power of the sacraments. It speaks of the presence, the providence, the love of Jesus. It brightens the present evil world which presses sorely on their spirits and their strength by pointing to a world beyond the tomb, where the fondest imaginings of happiness are more than realized, and where the most cruel wrongs and woes are amply and forever redressed. It may be guilty, perchance, of many offences against the laws of "good taste," yet, He, our Lord, is there, in the divine simplicity of His wonderful revelation. The same adorable Saviour is there in His manger; the Infinite Truth is lodging Himself around this easy language and these simple instructive forms in the heart and intellect of the people."

It is with pain we pass from the discourses of two distinguished preachers representing legitimate and inevitable schools of thought in the English Church, to those of a third, not inferior in genius but suspicious in orthodoxy. Robertson was the pioneer of an alien party whose lax doctrines meet an indignant rebuke in every part of the venerable Prayer-book. He admitted principles of interpretation, which legitimately pursued would eliminate from the Scripture, every supernatural attestation, every claim to inspiration, and every divine mystery. He proclaimed a view of the atonement which robs the blood of the Cross of all the efficacy imparted by incarnate Godhead, in the plan of propitiation devised by Eternal Wisdom to reconcile eternal Love and eternal Justice, and secure pardon through penitent faith to the sinner while upholding the throne of the Creator. The very piety and genius of Robertson give sweetness to the poison of error which distils through his eloquent discourses. Yet we must acknowledge his many excel

lencies. He had a brilliant imagination. He had a creative power. He had intense sympathy with nature. He had a tender compassion for the people. He had a manly love of right. He had a noble indignation against wrong. He had the spirit of a martyr in what he conceived to be duty. He throbs and burns with large charities for mankind. Many of his sermons stir the Christian heart in its deepest experiences, and animate with the noblest zeal to imitate the perfect manhood of our Saviour. Had Robertson lived to emancipate himself from the snares of rationalistic error, he might to-day have been the most distinguished and the most useful preacher in Christendom. In his sermon styled, "Realizing the Second Advent," are passages difficult to excel in truth, or beauty.

"It is no chance, nor fate which sits at the wheel of this world's revolutions. It was no fortuitous concourse of atoms which massed themselves into a world of beauty. It was no accidental train of circumstances which has brought the human race to their present state. It was a living God; most men know nothing beyond what they see. It is exactly the opposite of this that makes a Christian. Move where he will there is a Thought and a Presence he cannot put aside. He is haunted forever by the Eternal mind. God looks out from the clear sky, and through the thick darkness-is present in the rain-drop that trickles down the branches, and in the tempest that crashes down the forest. A living Redeemer stands beside him,-goes with him-talks with him as a man with his friend. And there is one word full of meaning from which we collect the truth of sympathy. It is that little word of appropriation-"My" Redeemer; power is shown by God's attention to the vast; sympathy by His condescension to the small. It is not the thought of heaven's sympathy with which we are impressed when we gaze through the telescope on the mighty world of space, and gain an idea of what is meant by the Infinite. Majesty and power are there, but the very vastness excludes the thought of sympathy. It is when we look into the world of insignificance which the microscope reveals, and find that God has gorgeously painted the atoms of creation, and exquisitely furnished forth all that belongs to minutest life, that we feel that God sympathizes and individualizes."

The design of this Article in representing the modern pulpit would not be accomplished if we omitted the notice of eminent preachers who out of the succession of the Order of the Church, are yet in the succession of her essential Faith. First among these, unquestionably, in oratorical gifts and popular attractiveness, is Spurgeon. The man, who, year after year, fills with eager crowds, pew, and aisle, and gallery of the vast Metropolitan Taber

nacle of London cannot be overlooked. As in his manner he cannot claim that refinement so pleasing in a clergyman, neither in his style can he claim the graces of the scholar. He often shows himself coarse, crude, vituperative. He indulges cant, and slang, and wit in proclaiming the solemn messages of the Gospel. His assault on our baptismal office certainly does not breathe the spirit of charity. His enmity to the English Church seems a passion. We can understand how he frequently disgusts and repels from his tabernacle, refined and cultivated auditors. And yet within his sphere he has no living rival. When he attempts the theologian he is absurd; when he contents himself to be a preacher he is overwhelming. If it is the function of the pulpit to attract and impress the multitude; if its purpose is to arouse the conscience, to make the sinner tremble before the bar of God, and reveal to him the eternal penalty of his guilt; if its aim is to proclaim to the faith of the penitent a pardoning, a present, a perfect Saviour, then certainly Spurgeon has a high title to the name of a true Christian orator.

In our new world Mr. Beecher has achieved for himself a position, distinguished and original. Measured by the standard of genius he is not inferior to the European preachers. Could men be converted by brilliant imagery, by startling utterances, by sparkling wit, by dramatic action, by a Gospel exaggerating love at the expense of justice, and relaxing the divine law to excite human sympathy, then would Plymouth pulpit flash and burn with saving power. But much as we admire the splendid gifts of Mr. Beecher, and much as we have been transported by many noble passages in his sermons, we suspect his orthodoxy in regard to the atonement, and doubt whether the efficacy of the cross, the solemnity of the judgment, the awfulness of eternity, and the presence of the Holy Ghost, can be deeply felt in an assembly, one moment moved to tears by the pathos of the orator, and the next tittering with laughter at his conceits. Such eccentricities may attract the crowd without benefiting the crowd. Many will believe that what is gained in numbers and applause, is not equalled by what is lost in respect and reverence.

And here we may remark that while claiming so much for the representative preachers of the nineteenth century, we may be permitted to question, whether, in some essential points, they do not

ven.

fall below the great representative preachers of the eighteenth century. In all the volumes of sermons we have perused, amid pages of fascinating interest, it is surprising how little is said which would direct a plain man to Jesus Christ. Discourse rather dazzles around the Cross than points to the Cross. The remedy for sin is often eulogized in a glittering pomposity of language where there is no intention and no effort to press its reception on dying souls. Salvation is oftener discussed rather than urged. The human element of the sermon is exalted at the expense of the divine. Primitive Christianity depended not only on the truth, but on the power of the Holy Ghost. The prayer of faith was the secret of her triumphs. There was a presence of the Godhead in her assemblies to wound, and to heal, and to save. It is to be feared that our modern pulpit in its efforts to attract and please, too frequently places man before the Cross, and earth before HeaWe need in this respect a return to apostolic models. Our churches are places where we oftener go to hear oratory than to find God. Nor need we travel back to the early centuries to seek reproof for our error. Turn to the sermons of Wesley and Whitefield, who, in the apostolic order, proclaimed the apostolic faith with apostolic power! You are led at once to your heart. Your conscience is searched. Your life is laid bare. You are convicted by the law. You are melted before the Cross. Justification by Faith, Regeneration by the Holy Ghost, Salvation from sin, the joy of an immortal life, are urged persistently on your acceptance. The way to our Saviour is made so obvious that whoever seeks may obtain. What thus moves the sincere individual moved the waiting assembly. Whitefield and Wesley were followed by the multitude. Prayer brought down on them a power which sealed the Truth unto Salvation. There was eccentricity. There was extravagance. Ther was fanaticism. But there were also penitence, faith, conversion. Perhaps it would be well for our age to study without prejudice the discourses of these two great English Evangelists. Whitefield, indeed, only excelled in a direct, fiery, hortatory eloquence which has never been surpassed. In voice, and style, and manner he was the unequalled Christian orator. If Wesley did not rival him in burning words he exceeded him in all other gifts. He was a refined scholar. He was a finished gentleman. He was an elegant

poet. He was a masterly organizer. He was a man of faith, and prayer, and power. While his sermons are not wholly suited to our own period they deserve the careful and profound attention of the Philosopher and the Divine.

There now remains for us a practical inquiry. Are the conditions of our age favorable to the efficiency of the Pulpit? Perhaps we can more intelligently answer the question by considering it under two aspects, and confining it to our own Communion.

The aim of the Pulpit we have before remarked is two-fold. It would convert, and it would instruct. The first function implies directness of appeal, boldness of argument, energy of faith, earnestness of persuasion. The second function implies patience, study, reflectiveness, comprehensiveness. The genius of the Church, without doubt, encourages the latter, and discourages the former. She proceeds on the supposition that her children, born in Baptism, and instructed by Parent, and Sponsor, and Rector, in Scripture, Creed, and Catechism, shall grow up silently into Christ as the tree rises in the air and sunlight. Nothing is left to those sudden experiences where the conversion resembles the flash of the lightning and the burst of the tempest. Besides, the calm spirituality, and solemnizing majesty of her Liturgy compose the soul into a tranquility unfavorable to impulse and emotion. The characteristics of her Pulpit therefore correspond to the object of her instruction and the nature of her service. Her discourse is usually tempered, dignified, educational. And the Christian character developed under such circumstances is certainly the most harmonious and the most beautiful. If the Church was now, as in England three centuries ago, the universal mother of a people all brought to her Fonts and her Pastors, she might better confine her Pulpits to the simple work of religious instruction. But in our own country she is in the midst of vast populations who live in a darkness deep as that of heathenism, and she can never be true to her whole mission until she provides a ministry who can carry the Gospel to these masses. Lights, and colors, and censers will not convert men. They may for a little time amuse children. Even our incomparable Liturgy will not attract the rude multitude. Our claims to Apostolic Catholicity are to them utterly unintelligible. They will follow earnest preachers and sympathetic pastors wherever they may be found. A powerful Pulpit will