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32X

mAHlTOBR GOUliEGE.

Um GREAT PREAGHEHS

VINET, LIDDON AND NEWMAN

BKING

The Opening Lecture of the Theological Department,

OCTOBER 30TH, IB^O.

BY f^EV. JOHN JVI. KING, D.D.,

Principal of Maiii/oba College.

WINNIPI^G :
MANITOBA FRER PRKSS I'RINT.

1890.

Three Great Preachers,

tVINET, LIDDON AND NEWMAN.)

— BKIN(; —

THE OPPING LECTURE OF THE THEOLOGICAL DEPARTMENT.

♦ ♦ 4

At the icccnt'ojx'niiii;" of tlio session of tlie TluM)logi,^al
DrpMi'tineiit of Mnnitt)l;a Collt'c^c, Rev. Prinrijinl Kini;^ (U-
livej'otl tlif- followinjjj Icoture:—

Amon^ tilt' too nunxTons snhjects ussi^ncd to the eliaii- of
tlin Principal of Manitoba College, Honiiletics, at least since
'tile Rev. Mr. I'itMado's regi'etted (lef)arture, has had to have a
place. In <lealino' with this lininch of preparation foi* the
ministry, my plan has l»een to state and expound with as
much fulness as possible the moi-e important principles of the
Science or the Art (it is both); and in addition to pass in re-
view .some of the more eminent preachers, both of earlier and
of later times, with the view of ascertaininuj their distinctive
mei-its and of tixino- attention on the sources of their powei'.

In pursuance of the latter ]>art of this plan, and as alf^o
supplyinG: >^ subject which maj* not be without interest to tl\e
(/hnstinn )»ublic, who have favored us with their presence, I
desire to speak to you this evening' of an illustriou.s triad of
])reacheT's: Vinet, Liddon and Newnum. Supei'Hcially vie'wed,
they may appear to have very little in conjmon, more closely
reoaided they will be found to have much: I am not con-
cerned, however, to justify theii- combination in this lecture
by any other consideration than this, that they hav(» oil been,
in very different degi'ees indeed, helpful to myself in exercis-
ing the ministry; more, perhaps, than any other preachei-s,
whose ac((iiaintance has been luadt.' siniply thiouo-h their pub-
lished writinii;s. Of the three, one spoke in French, the other
two in our English tongue. 'I'he former end<'<l his career
almost half a century ago, the grave has just closed over
the two latter. Exercising their gifts in spheres wide apart,
and amid vei'V dit^erent surronndiufjs, it will be found that in
their hearts they adored the same Saviour, and by their
elcxpience vindicated the same essential and eternal verities.

VINE'I'.

Viiiofc, th<i first iiainoil, was born towaids the olosc of tlie
last century in Lausanne, one of the most heautit'ul cities in
Switzerland, or, in«1ee(l, in the vvorhl; liavinir at its feet tlw^
blue waters of the lake of (Tcneva, and in the distance, but in
full view, t!ie majestic and snow clad peaks of Mont Blanc.
He received his education in his native city, which then as
now was the seat of an ancient school of leainiiig. He was
destine*] to the n)inistry by his father, but bavins- early dis-
played liteijiry an<l philosophical abilities of a high order, he
was. at the aoc of twenty-two, appointed professor of the
b'rench language and literature in the University of Basle,
receiving ordination as a minister of the Ggspel about the
same period, in that famoiis border city, even at that early
date the scene of zealous ndssionary enterprise, Vinet con-
tinued to teach from 181!) to 18;i(S. There probahly he forme(l
those decid<Mlly spiritual views t)f religion, which are found in
all his discourses. In 1888 he was recalled to his native city
as professor of theology; a position which, first in connection
with the ecclesiastical establishment, and afterwaids with tlu'
lu.'wly formed Free Church of the Canton de Vaud, he occu-
pied until his death. He was in his day a ju'olific author,
giving to the press as many as twelve or fourteen volumes on
varioys subjects of a literary, philosophical or religious
character. It is his sermons only with which we have to do
hell'. These were given to the pul)lic at various times, and
C()m])rise in all several volumes. A large number of the most
sti-ikiuir of them have been ma<le accessible to the Enoli.sh
reader in two volunies, entitled respectively, Vital (yhristianity
and (lospel Studies.

'J'he sermon must take its character to a large extent from
the audience to which h is a<ldressed. Its form, its contents
even, must l»e govei-ned in some degiee by the needs, the
tastes, certainl}' by the intellectual and moral appreciations of
those whom it is designe<l to help. V^inet addressed himself
largely to men of cidture, man}' of whom were either uneasy
in their hold on the Christian faith or had actually relin-
quished it under the influence f>f the Uiateiialistic and skep-
tical thought of -the age. It was his aim to recover for them
their impaired or theii' lost leligious convictions. This aim he
seeks to a^omplish by calling attention with rare and pene-
ti'ating insight to the spiritual in man, an<l to the adaptation
of the gos|)el to all its deeper needs and its loftier aspii'ations,
The worthlessness of all material splendors; the insignificance
of all nun-ely intellectual achievements, the transcendent glor}'

of the mornl »uul the spiritual above all triuiiiphs of intellect,
as seen in the widow's uiite cast into the treasury, in the Ik)X
of ointment bnjken by the hand of i)resei(nt love on the
Saviour's person, in the tears of penitenee washiiiL,' His leet:
the mystery of hmiinn sorrow, the boundlessness of humar\
aspiration, the blendini,' ^landeur and beauty of the Saviour's
character, the power which belongs to the heart — to love — to
apprehend anrl to verify the gospel; these supply him with
the lofty themes on which he discourses with marvellous force
and elo(|uenor. Without being formally and <lirectly an argu-
ment for Christianity, these sermons are only the more really
au apolojretic of the juost effective kind: one by which the
faith of many a hesitatin*; believer has been greatly strenjjfth-
eued. A brief (juotation will be of more service than any
(lescii})tion in enabling you to understand and appieciate this
chai'acter'istic of the discourses of Vinet. 'Humanity hath
separated itself iVom (lod. "^rhe storms of passion have broken
the ujysterions cable which retained the vessel in poi't. Shaken
to its base, and feeling itself driven upon unknown seas it
seeks to I'cbind itself to the shore; it endeavours to renew its
broken stiands; it nuikes a desperate etiin't to re-establish
these connections without which it cannot have either peace
or security. In the midst of its njieatest waTiderin<»s, luinia-
nity never loses the idea of its origin and destiny; a dim I'c-
collection of its ancient harmony pui-sues and agitates it; and
with(mt renouncing its passions, without ceasing to love sin,
it longs to reattach its being full of daj'kness and miseiy to
something luminous and peaceful and its fleeting life to some-
tiling innnovable and etei'nul. In a word, (Jod has never
ceaseil to be the want of the human I'ace. Alas! their lu)mage
wanders fi'om its proper object, theii worship becomes de-
])raved, their jnety itself is impious; the religions which covei*
the earth are an insult to tlie uidvnown (lod, who is their
object. Hut in the midst of tliese mousti'ous aberrations, a
sul)lime' instinct is revealed: and each of these false religions
is a, puniful cry of the soul, torn froui its centre and separated
from its object. It is a despoiled existenee which in seeking
to clothe itself, seizes upon the first rags it finds: it is a disord-
ered sjnrit, which, in the ardour of its thirst, plunges all
panting into fetid and troubled waters; it is an exile who in
seeking the road to Ids native land, buries himself in frightful
deserts."

But these discourses are nnich more than a powerful argu-
ment for the (tospel; they are a singularly beautiful exhibition
of its contents. and of its spirit. Thev are the former nuiinlv,
indeed, in virtue of being the latter. They are n(jt less

adaptoil to tiansl'orni a cold, inort faith into a devout and
livinjjf lionuioc, tha!J to eon(|Ui'r doubt, oi to ivplat'o nnboliof
by faitli. I'boy arc distinctly cvan;^a'lical, brind'ul <•( (}o.sp(.'l
truth, but it is ( !o.s[H'1 truth in its givat |)iinci|)lcH rather than
in its iniiuite details,— (jiospol truth on its ethical nion; than
on its doctrinal si<lL', in its spirit more than in its letter. And
they are instinct throui^hoiit with warm (christian fecjjing.
The emotion, indeed, is not loud and vehement, it is cahii
and repressed ratliei- than stimulated; but it is there all the
same; now tender and retj;'reti'ul, now elevated and joyous,
always deei) and liealtht'ul. The rea<ler of these di.scourses
feels him.self to be in contact throu^diout with a man of broad
views and of warm human sympathi(!s. The harsh and narrow
dogmatism which .so often repels the fiiKpiirer on the threshold
is conspicuously ab.sent; but it is not replaced in Vinets eas«',
as in that of many preachers of liberal culture, by mere
humanitarian ethics or weak sentiment. The cross, with all
its offence, if with all its my.sterious power of attraction, is
there and is central, as it should be. " Stripped of the great
fjict of expiation," says N'inet, "and all that cluster of ideas
connected with it, what, 1 ask, is Christianity '. For ordinary
minds, an ordijiary morality; for others, an abyss of incon-
sistencies." Again "It is not so much the (lospel that has
preserved the doctrine of the cross, as the doctiine of the ci'oss
that has preserved the Gospel." "All the might, all the reality
of Christianity in each Christian is there and only there.
Even the les.sons and exf^niple of Jesus Christ, in order to be-
conu^ living and fruitful, require a ray darted froui the cros,s."
But these discourses, marked by .such uncompromising de-
votion to the distinctive truths of the (Jospel, are worthy of
our attention not only because of what they say, b\it
even becau.se of what they do not .say. Their idicence
itself is inst'-uctive. Rather desi)'ing com})letc agreement
with D'Aubigiie. CJau.ssen and otlxirs of the Ceneva school,
in the details of Christian doctrine than actually attain-
ing it, the i)reacher .scrupulously abstains fi'om .statements
which Uiight present the appearance of a gi-eater degree
of accord with these distingui.sfied exponents of evangelical
thought than he had renlly reached. lndee<l there is scajcely
any feature in tlusse .sermons nioi'e markinl, as thei'e is none
n:ore worthy of inutation, than their severe truthfulness, their
prudent reserve, the determination of the speaker everywhere
maiiifest to kee]) utterance well within tlie limits of conviction
and of feeling. "We have forbidden our words," he say«, "to
transcend the limits of our personal emotions; ;tn artificial
heat would not be .salutary." "Feeble, i address myself to the

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When some ol" ns beeoiiic stionj^er than the re«t nnc will to-
gethtM' demand the bn-ad oi the strong." Henee tiui entire
freedom from eant, the naturalness, the wise and attractive
reasonableness of the discourses composed' in such a spirit;
contrasting, oh, how stiongly, with the wihl exti'avagance, the
vulgar exiggeration, the frank egotism which is dis|)laycd by
mol'c than one ])rominent pulpit of our day. Surely po[>ula-
rity is i)U)'chase<l at too great a cost, when it involves the
sacrifice at once of the saeredness of the sanctuary and the
self-res])eet of the ])reaeher.

Inhere is still another characteristic of N'inet s sermons, too
striking to be passed over even in this l>rief estimate; they
ai'e marked by a certain tingt; of sadness — marked, not
manetl; it is in part even the secret of the charm which they
have foi' the sensitive reader. For tlie tcme of melancholy, if
one must designate it l)y such a term, which per\ ades th(.'m,
is that of a pure and gentle spirit, .saddimeij and chastened by
the sight of human sin and human suffering. One has only
to listen to its strains to coid'ess their 8])ell. "Every soul,*
doubtless, cairies within itself a ti'casure of soi-row. It is
even a condition (.)f our nature, that in all our joys, even the
most intiiuse I know not what s(M"row ever mingles, as in a
song of gladness, a hollow murmur, or a stilled groan. It
might be said that the very voice of joy awakens in the
depths of the soul ashnabeiing grief:" or again "Tiife is passe*
amid temptations to joy incessantly repressed. Jo}' has mo-
ments, sorrow the whole of life. That is a moment of joy
wIk^i a cheiished hope is realized; that is a life of sorrow
when we feel that the successive realization of all our hopes
lias not filled the infinite abyss of the soul. That is a moment
of iov, which <jives us the smile of a beautiful da v,' the sun
so plea.sant to behold, the free develo[)ment of any t>f our
powers, the feeling of existence in the ])lenitude of health;
that is a life of sorrow which hurries proujiscuoilsly to the abyss
hefoi'e us oar good and our evil liours, oui' })ains and our
] Measures, nay more, oui- soul itself; for the thoughts and
artecti(jns of which it is compo.sed piecede us to the tomb,
w idle of all that we po.ssess and all we have been, we can re-
tain nothing, no, not even our most cherish<Ml griefs." Or
once more "From the very sources of ou'' happiness s))ring
forth bitter soi-rows. Our mt>st tender attachments arm death
with some of his sharpest darts; for although St. Paul has
said with truth that "tlie sting of death is sin," it is true that
this sting multiplies itself and makes sharp points of all the
flowers with which we deck our heads. Kverv crown of

Howei'M, HODiu'i' or latt'i". lir(M)in('s a crown of tl»t)ni.s." And
what (li'ptli of r«'tl«'ctivo thought, as woll as teiiiUM'm'Hs of
[)hiintivo sorrow ha\*' we not in tlu.'so words! "To blunt tins
sting of grit'f, time is Ix'ttor tluui [)rid(' ; hut tijnc wears out
the soul as well as all the rest, 'i'he powei* ot forgetting is
only a weakness. liife tlnis becomes less .sowowful, but it
also becomes less serious, le.ss noble."

It is ahno.Ht unnoC(.'ssary to add, after what has been Hai<l
and what has Ixsen (|Uoted, that Vinc^t has found warm ad-
mirers in every ccmntiy which his woiks have reached; not
oidy in his native Switzeiland. but in (lernumy, in Finance, in
Kngland and in America. His sermons are not indee(l popular
m the oj'dinary sense of that term. I^hey ai'e for the most
part I'eligious essays or meditation.s. They art- made to be
read and re-rend. That is perhaps their delect as stsrmons.
They have to seek and to sele(;t their audience, but they hold
it without diHieulty when once found. How indeed could it
be otherwise with discourses whicli exhibit so i-are a union of
intellectual and moral excelhaice, such originnlitv of concep-
tion, such depth of insight, such elevation of sentiirient, such
precision and beauty of expi-ession, such wealth of imagina-
tion, such w»irmth of atl'ection, such tenderness, such humility.
Add to this a persomUity singulai'ly bright and gentle, en-
riched with the best cidtuie of France »ind (rermany, and
adorned with "the ornament of a meek and (|uiet spirit," and
it cannot sur|)ri.se us that Vinet has won a very high place in
the esteem and aHection of tlK)Ughtrul Christiaps in Europe
and America, ^'ear8 before I made my first visit to the con-
tinent of Furope, he had passed out of life, but at on(> point
and another — in a loV(;ly chateau, the honie of a reHiUMl (chris-
tian family, on the slopes of the .Jura, and in the midst of a.
(juiet Moravian connnunity in Giiinany 1 met those who
had known thc! man as well as waited on his teaching, and
had cause to note the warm and reverend aH'ection with which
they cherished thj meinory of his lihmding genius imd good-
ness. For myself (if I may be permitted a personal allusion
on this occasion) T confess I owe more to Vinet for intellectual
stimulus and spiritual hel[) than to any unins]>ired teacher.

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MDDON.

Ill pnsisiii^jf from Viiiot to Liddon, wo onroiintor inaiiy stiik-
']U^ eoiJtiasts; tho oiu' philosopliie and critical, the other
authoritative and (h>j»;u)atic; the one timid and seif-distruHtl'ul,
without the coui'ntj^c to open his mouth e\-en once in thi> lieau-
titid and spacious catliedral of his native city, the other to
the last, fillin^f witli Ids rin^dnuf voice and his stately periods
the far Inriicr St. Paul's; the one enirving conciliation to the
ver^e of eoniproniise, the other d(j<^niatism to the verja;** of
defiMnce. Kach wms in a niMnnei- true to his nationality; in
the oiKf the li^ht touch, the «iry l>rilliance of the Frenchman,
in the other the vii^oious directness, the rohust self-assei-tion
of the Fine;lishman. In Liddon we ndss the |)hilosophical in-
sijLjht, the sulitU; heauty, the sweet persuasiveness of Vinet,
hut we find in him on the other hand, a massiveruiss of
thoujjht, a ifiandeur of statement and an authoritativeness of
utterance, which Vinet cannot claim. Fncpiirers after truth
will linijrer over the pa^es of the one; the mass, ev<»n of the
thoughtful, craviujL; alxtve all else, certainty in regar<l to spiri-
tual thi,n<rs, will hnni; on the lijts of the other, or. ns death lias
now sealed these, will tm'n to the writini;s in which the
author has expre.s.scd his unskaken faith in the great Christian
vei'ities.

En addition to his gieat Bampton lecture on the Divinity
of .Chiist, Liddon ])ublished from tinie to time several \olume.s
of sei'mons, some of them preached in Oxfoi-d, l»cfoi-e the
IJnivei'.sity, and others, in St. Paul's Cathedral. Those in
Nvhich, so far as my ac(juaintanc»' i^^oes, he is .seen at his best
are found in the two volumes entitl«Ml " llTiiversity Sermons "
and "Some wt)rda for CJod." Hut while natuially of uneipial
merit, they are all strono-, and baiting their sacerdotalism
true to Scripture teaching and stJ-engthening to faith.

At the time of his death, a few weeks ago, Liddon stood
by almost universal consent nt the head of the English pul-
pit. Whem ver it was known that he was to preach, the great
cathedral was filled with an audience embracing indee<l all
classes, but in winch there wen; suie to be found many men
of liberal (;ulture, and among them some of the leading in-
tellects of the clay. Young men of education waited with
eagerness on his ministrations. Many Londoners had fo»
years never ndssed an opportunity of heaiing him: and his
popularity .seein.s to have continued without diminutitm to the
last. What was its secret? No single explanation, we niaj-
be sure, will suffice. There must have been more than one
element of j>ower in the preacher who could attract and re-

tain tlironn;l» so many years m\ aiidioneo so lar^'o and of sneli
a cliarav'tcr.

Ill ncc'ountiii^' f\)r t-liis success wo arc sni'tj in givin*:^ a fore-
most place to the prominence whicli the ^reat and superna-
tural facts of redemption, and the doctrines which grow out
of these facts, received in liis preaching. 'I'hese are not sim-
])ly presupposed, aigued, defended; they are proclaimed, and
proclaimed with an authority which comes not from the
Sjieakcr, hut from (ilod who has put His woi'd into his mouth
and with an cnthusiam which is born of his own assured
faith in theii- verity. He is not a ])hilosopher propounding a ,
theory, not a critic in(|uiring into the truth of a system, not
a mei"e mondist enforcing a code of ethics; he is first and be-
fore^ all else a preacher, a man with a message which he has
receive<l, in which lie believes, which it is his to expound and
apply, but in any case to proclaim, and to proclaim in the very
terms in which it has been jziven and with all the marvellous
significance attaching to it. Not his to reduce by a single
hair's breadth the vast pioportioiisof the truth, not his to tone
down the dimensions of the supernatural, whethei" as dis-
played in the Saviours incarnation and (lodhead or in the sin-
nei's i'eij:ene)'ation to newness of life: his rather to assert and
to emj)hasize it, whincvv'r Holy Scri]»ture teaches him to find
its presence, whethei' in creation or in re<l<Miiption; sometnnes,
perhaps, as in his sacramentai.ian views, to discover and assert
its jiresenco where it is not.

Liddon's preaching is thus distinctively dc>ctrinal, ex'cn
dogmatic. Tlie great connnon places of religion, — (lod and
eternity, sin and grace, i-edemption .-md atonement, death and
judgment, are neither ignoie<I, nor thrown into the back
ground. < )n the contrar\^ they are constantly upon his lip.s.
They form the staple of his discourse. Tlu* only effect on the
[•readier of the destructive ci'iticism or of the inijiudent de-
nials of th(5 time — and it is unmistakable--is to compel a
deeper and trutr concf))tion of these e.s.seiitial and eternal
verities, to stifien the grasp with which they are held, and to
intensify the emphasis wnth which they are proclaimed. It
should be added, as al', important to an undei standing of his
.success, that these verities so often su]>erficially viewed, as-
stniie a deepei' significance, become invested with a more
.soleuni grandeu)', in the hands of this great preacher. Set in
the light of his powerful intellect and glowing imagination,
they are seen to posse.ss larger ])roportions, to liave deeper an<.l
wider im))lications id the principles of human reason and the
facts of human exj)erience, than had been previou.sly discerned :
while ever and again there flashes out some abusive phrase.

ni
To

or some flaminti; metaphor, wliicli at once wi«lonH an<t illumines
the siiiritual lK)j"izon,or opons out in it new and honmlless vistas
for thougfht ami t'anev to exr)lore. As the result, the hearer is
both eontirmed in his faith in revealed truth andnuide to feel
its ))ossession to be a more than ever inestimalile treasure.

I eannot doubt that these (jualities in the sermons of ('anon
Liddon supply the main explanation of their wonderful power.
Something no doubt was due to the speaker's tine presence,
to his powerful and melodious voiee heard distinctly at the
farthest point in that vast laiildinL^, to his passion born of
deep conviction, to his massive and stately oratory, and to the
unicpie and attractive personality, which was behind the
words and lent them weight; but after due aTiOwance has
been made for all these, it still remains true, that what more
than all else gave this far-famed preacher the power to attract
and to retain his crowding audiences, was his strong grasp of
the frnidam(!ntal verities of the Oospel, his deep and d<vout
insight into their meanino' and the assui-ed and assurini-- con-
tidence with which he never ceased to proclaim them.

One point more, and we take farewell of Liddon. I have
spoken of the vein of nielancholy which is so fre((uently met
with in the .sermons of Vjnet. A similar tinge of sadness
appears, though pprha])s less ol)trusively, in those of Liddon.
With all the strong pei-.sonal faith which th<\y express, they
cannot be spoken of as predominantly hopeful. There are
freipiently forthcoming in them, not oii'v the sad vicissitudes
of human life, its inconsolable griefs, l)ut also the weary
struggle of the faith, its dark outlook, the possibility ot |>hi'-
tial and temjuirary defeat even, before the hour of tinal
triumph. The sorrow, the unrest, the oft l»atHed endeavour
of th(^ age is again and again sympatlietically i'etlecte<l in the
woi-ds and th'e tones of the great preacher: and just therein
lay a part of his charm. You know the spi.'ll which is ex-
ercised over us by the pathos of the plaintive song, by the
notes of the minor tune, even by the hues of the fading year.
Vou know that that joy is ever the mo.st attractive, in which
is heard a faint undertone of sadness, as that beauty is the
most fascinating in which is seen a tinge t)f melancholy, such
as all the great painters, therefore, have thrown into the fac«'
in which they sought to endtody their highest conception of
female beauty, that of the mother of our Lord. In any case,
M'hether a part of their charm or not, a shade of gloom is an
unmistakable feature in the seiMuoiis of Liddon, as it is ind«MMl,
also in those of his gi-eat compeer : Who do«^s not fed its spell
in his hyn)n, " Lead kin<lly light amid the encircling gloom"?
To him we now turn for a very brief pei'iod.

NEWMAN.

Novvinan as a jm'cjicIioi- is eliicliy known to tliose of the
pivsont (lay tliiough eioJit volumes of " F'arochial and Plain
Seiiuons" (It'livcred by him, while still a minister in the
Churph of Entfland. It is i^siial to speak of him as a great
|»reacht'r, ami if the greatness of the pn'acher is to be mea-
sured by the effect produce<l l)y his sei'mons, he must he
lield to be a very great one. It lias been said of tliem by
one well (jiialifiiMl to form a correct judgment, they "have done
more tlian an}' one thing in mould and (|uicken and brace the
i-eligions temper of our time; they luive acted with e(|ual
foi'ce on those who were nt'arest and on those who were
fulthest fi'om him in theological opinion." Tt is certain they
have enteretl as a (juite apprecial>le force into thc^ intellectual
and .spii-itual life of the mition: They may be said even to
have accomplished little less than a revolution in the prevail-
ing style of ])i caching, making it nmch less conventional ajid
much more direct and pi'a(;tical. And their intinence has
been confined to no one l)i'anch of the Christian church. It
has probably Ijcon even more felt in the Non-conformist
churches than in that body to which, as all Protestants will
regret, their author deemed it dutiful to transfer his allegiance.
Yet it is easy to j-ead these sermons witl.out having forced on
one's attention anv sintrle excellence or any cond)ination of
excellences, so unusual as to account for this wiiJe and deep
iuHuenet'. They do not often .startle the reader by the bohl-
ness an<l oi'iuinality of the thought, as do those of Frederick
Robi'i'tson. riiey have not the tender pathos and exquisite
beauty of tlie di.scour.ses of John Kerr, and tliey ai'e still far-
ther removed from the elaborate word-painting of Guthrie.
Nor does the |)reacher, like Chalmers, carry his audieiavc along
(»n a flood of im[)assioni'd sj)eech. All these legitimate and
natural means of im|)ression, Newman .seems as if on f?et pur-
po.se to avoid. He does not once step aside friim the direct
path in which his theme leads him to lay hold of a striking
thought or to cull a flower of rhetoric. His imagery is
thi'oughout of the simplest kind and is such as .serves,
merely to display the thought, never to attract attention to
itself. He shuns seduhaisly not only exaggeration, V)ut even
vehement emotion, as if it weie not a strength but a weak-
ness. His speech is for the most part as calm and unim-
passioned, as it is ])reci.se and clear. The \isual (pudities of
the orator are conspicuously absent, and indeed liis warmest
admirer declares "he was utterly unlike an oi-ator in all out-
ward ways' What tlien was the secret of his great power?

and

Wht«t lent sucli a coiniuandiny^ and pri-sistent inilnoncc to
those scrnioiiH pivached dnrino- the second (|nai ter (.'t' tin; ci'ii-
tuiy tVoin tlio puljiif^jf St. Mary's clmich, Oxford. I men-
tion just three considerations.

First: — The profound spiritual insight of the preacher.
The most cursory reader cannot fail to be struci< hy the .suhth^
and penetrating- analysis of human cliaracter and Mction on
the religious side, which tliese sermons display. They are not,
indeiMl, purely sultjective. The great tVctsof redenjption have
their full place accorded to them and the leading S(;iipture
characters are nuide to pass in succession before lis. Hut they
are predominantly suhjrctive. it is mninly I'eligion in human
action, the truth as honored or dishonoied in the life, the
workings ol sin and of grace in the heait, of which they treat;
and the treatment is of the most searching kind, 'llxe stiatiire
complexity of motive at work in lives at le»st paitially C'hri.s-
tian is unravelled fearlessly and with appureut ease. Tin;
wiles and feints of the deceitful heart are laid bare. The dis-
guises with which self-love seeks to cover up departures front
truth and righteousn.ess an- stripped off with pitiless hand.
Often the sermon in its calm and severe airaignment of
human conduct seems a kind of rehearsal ol' the judgment;
only the preacher passes sentence on himself as well as on
others and is careful to unfold the irvixci^ which is still within
reach. Newman's preaching is thus at once intensely spiritiud
and intensely practical. The spiritual good of the hearer is
not once lost sioht of and the character uuiler which that
good is sought is of the very highest kind. Such sermons,
for example, as those entitled "Knowledge of (iod's will with-
(Hit obedience," "Pronnsin<x with(mt doino," "Obedience the
remedy for religious perplexity" are nvodels of calm, sober,
instructivi' statement, and of solemn and earnest nppeal. The
]U'eacher is far advniiced in his art who eainiot learn iVom
their study to ])reach still better, and the j)rivate Cljristian is
not to be envied who can lise from their perusal without
[irotit.'

Second: — There is the great excellenci' t)f their style — the
uuirvellous clearness, precision and simplicity of the ex])i-es-
sion — as a farther explanation oi the power exerted by thes(i
sei'mons. It is true, the preacher seems to have conce)Jie<l
himself little, if indeed at all, with the foini his thought was
to a.ssume. He was too intent on the thought itself to allow
of this. There is no discernible eHbrt on liis |)art after force
or beauty of ex])ression : no long drawn metaphor, no elabo-
rate antithesis to .suggest that the form in which the thought
is clothed is the result of much care and work; but such mas-

tery does ho ])os8ess over the instniiiiont which he wields in
i/he English tongue, that the tJiuught takes at once and with-
out effort the fitting form ; tlie allusive nietaplioi', the orna-
ment, when there is any, comes naturally, spontaneously and
not as having been sought. The language is always precise
and cleai', often neautifid, but th«; hearer no more thinks ot
tlie simplicity and beauty of the teru's in which the thought
is couched, until attention is called to it, than the spectator
charmed with the distant landscape, thinks of the })urity of
the atmosphere through which it is seen. There the rugged
mountain peak or the river gleaming in the sunlight, is every-
thing; here the supernatural fact, or the s})iritual tiutli. This
[ need scarcely say is tlie very ])ei-fection of style. And it
dues not only possess a great charm, in the sermon at least it
possesses high ethical value. It betokens a mind too serious,
too strongly .seized of the truth, too much in earnest concerning
the ends to be served by it, to lend itself to rhetorical orna-
mentation. It betokens the preacher's confidence in the
power, his sense of the majest}', of the truth which it has
i>een given him to proclaim. Any studied beauty of expres-
sion in a .sermon, any beauty of form which detains the nnnd
is at once a rhetorical mistake and a moral fault, ami the lat-
ter is the worse blemish— the more injurious — of the two.
Let us be thn,nkf\d then, at a rime when frecpien* recourse to
rhetorical artifice, labored oi'namentation of the thought ami
accompaniments still less defensible, seem to ])roclaim in so
njany (pmrters the speaker's distrust in the ability of the
thought itself to liold uKai, foi' preachers like Newman, who
have the courage to stake all upon the naked truth — who are
too reverent, too much in earnest, to furbish with th'e tiap-
))ings of rhetoric that swa)rd of the Spirit which is the word
of (lod.

Third: — Once more, and moiv important than all else as
explaining the great influence undeniably exerted by the.se
sermons, there is the obvious and umnistakable sincerity of
the preacher; a something in his method of presenting trutli,
which gives to his statements, even when most directly spiri-
tual, a tlistinct note of reality. For one thing there is the en-
tire absence of exaggeration — of the swollen phrases, which
are horn of the craving foj" immediate impression, as distinct
from the desire foi- la.sting good. There is the absence also of
conventionalism — of modes oi expression that belong to the
pulpit only and are not heai'd at all in common life All is
simple and natural. The preacher speaks about God and
rhrist and .sin an<l salvation, and heaven, always with rever-
ence indeed, never with tlie vulgar familiaricx' an<l still Ics-t;

with tlie buftooiiL'iy vvlucli are too often enjuloycd ami wliieli
are at vvai* l)otli with religious fV-eliii^ ami good taste, but lie
s|)eaks (jf theui at the same time with a directness and a cir-
cumstantiality, such as we might employ in speaking about the
friend wlio visited us yesterday or about tlie busint'ss we are
going to transact to-morrow; or in writing to a person regard-
ing a countiy witli which we are familiar and which he is
about to visit. IMiere is as the result an air of realuess giv«m
to the subjects of which he treats, which in the measure of it
is very rare, b.it which is at the same t'me mt)Ht helpful to
the hearer. Evidently the worhl of spiritual things is a very
real world to hiui. He has looked it in the face. He has
.scrutinized it closely, and lie speaks of it with a simplicity
and a directness and withal a confidence that nnist go far to
make it real U) others also. This is indeed about the most
original and distinctive characteristic of the sermons of this
gieat preacher; as it is one of their highest merits, if not in-
deed their ver}' highest. Foi' there is scai'cely any service,
which a Christian man can render to his fellowmen more im-
portant at least in our age, than to invest the spiritual world
witli realuess to tlnnn: not to divest it of its mystery, for if
that w^ere possible, it wotild be a loss and not a gain, but to
take it out of the region of eloudhuid and dreaui and give to
it the air of definite, undeniable i-t.'ality, whicli we nuist be-
lieve belongs to it. To do this, it must be altogetlun- real to.
the man himself. His speech regarding it nmst be obviou.sly
apd entirely sincere. It must be impo.ssible for even the most
sensitive hearer to detect in it the false and therefore the
disenchanting n'ote. This was in a high degrec,-^id with all
Ins faults, thiy service which Newiuan rendered to oiti: common
Christianity and by it he made not sim|)ly the Oxfom of his
day, but the pulpit of England and of Auierica in ouis, his
debtor. \

1 have thus ])as,sed in review, at undue length. 1 fear,
these distinguished preachers, all of wIkmii "now re.st from tlieii-
labors." As the result, I trust, they stand out before you in
their distinct individuality ; V^net, the cahii, philosophic en-
fpiirer, the representative of reason in relation to religion,
original in thought, gra(H'ful in speech, lofty in character,
.sweet and gentle in spirit, looking with wistful and tender
.soirow, even on those who hesitate to enter, or who actually
turn away from, the great temple of truth and love within
which he worships. Liddon, the princely preachei*, the repre-
sentative of authority, of dogma in religion, cultured, stately,
elo(|uent, witnessing with a power which in our age has not
been surpassed, if indeed it has been ecpialled for the super-

natural facts of redemption, and the bitterly assailed but in-
destructible verities of ,the Christian faith: and NewrnMi, the
subtle, severe, devout analyst of Ohristirin character and
action, keen in tlu)U<?ht, clear and musical in expression, con-
Hdent in belief and practical in aim. the representative in the'
years in which alone we are conceni«.'(l with him — probably
iiis happiest and most useful — of the i-evived piety of the
Church, of wdiich he was so great an ornament, and to which
his withdrawal from its nunistry was so great a loss.

In conclusion, gentlemen of the theological classes, 1 ex-
tend to you in the name of the senate and in my own nauie,
a cordialWclcome to the Institution, whether you are leturn-
ing to it to resumt>, in some cases to complete, your studies, or
whether you are entering it for the iirst time. Whatever the
lecture of the evening has done for others or has failed to do,
1 hope it has deepened in you the sense of the importance and
dignity of the work of preaching. I shall regard it as the
highest service which I can render you, as your teacher in
Homiletics, much nion? important even than any instruction
in the princijiles of the science, if I can help you to feel
the grandeur of the preacher's office, inspire you with the
ardent desire to excel in it, and lead you to regard all gifts,
whether natural or acquire"!, whether of vigorous thought or
of graceful speech, as having their very highest value in the
power with which they clothe you, to expound, to apply, and
above all, to proclaim Christ's message of love, "the glorious
gospel of the blessed God."