And yet there are many pious priests amongst us, many who are truly men of God. Still, such is the deplorable power of routine, that their piety seems sometimes to abandon them when in the pulpit—the very place where it should be most conspicuous.
Like myself, you have, doubtless, in the course of your life, often met with one of these estimable priests, full of faith and charity. His countenance alone did you good, and his words cheered you alike in familiar conversation and in the confessional. … The same individual occupies the pulpit: you are delighted to see him there, and forthwith set yourself to listen to him with earnest attention; but, alas! you no longer recognize him: he is no longer the same; what he utters is no longer the word of life. You exclaim: "What has become of my model pastor, my saint?" … for you hear nothing now but declamation, or a sing-song speech … a uniform tone which utters the denunciation: "Depart ye cursed into ever lasting fire," and the invitation: "Come, ye blessed of my Father," in the same strain. … You hear what you have heard a hundred times before—a poor man who, with a painful sense of effort, is doing his best to evoke refractory thoughts and phrases, and are almost led to doubt whether he is not acting a part.
This monotony, this dull uniformity, this mannerism must be abandoned, and we must resume our personality—our own minds and hearts—enlarged and inspired by the breath of God; … otherwise, by persisting in that dismal tone, that frigidly philosophical style, that finely spun phraseology, that speech without emphasis, which characterizes the generality of our sermons nowadays, we shall wholly lose our time, our pains, and perchance our souls also. …
Can it, indeed, be that we are wanting in a just sense of our mission, and that we do not adequately estimate the object which those who speak in God's name should have in view? The end of preaching is to bring back the souls of men to the Creator.
In this respect also, it is to be feared that the philosophical spirit, and a tendency to controversy, have turned us aside from our proper aim and the end of all our efforts. Take away the accent of conviction from a sermon, divest it of energetic faith, and what is left thereof to the hearers? Mere sounding phrases, and nothing more.
Now, let me ask, are you aware of the enemies with whom you have to deal, and the difficulties which you have to contend against? The object set before you is to redeem the hearts of men, who in their thirst, their rage for happiness, have given themselves up to the sensual, visible, intoxicating things which surround them. You will have to do battle with the human passions: to say to pride, be abased; to voluptuousness, be accursed; to the love of gold, renounce your avarice and be bountiful … and you fancy that you will succeed in the encounter by the use of mere phrases; forgetting, perchance, that those passions can make better phrases than yours. They know how to give them life, and will hurl them at you, glowing with a fire which will speedily devour your cold and meagre speeches … Nothing can restrain and subdue the passions but the inspiration, the power of God. …
It is high time that we should resume the accent of conviction in our ministrations. Having that, the soul is perfectly at ease, and, feeling sure of its footing, cherishes the widest benevolence. … Why should it be troubled, knowing that it is secure in the Power on which it relies? It is only those powers which doubt their own strength that are suspicious and wavering. And when God is with us, we cannot fail to entertain profound pity for the weaknesses, the prejudices, the profanities, and the false reasonings of humanity.