How are the young men and lads who congregate about dram shops, street corners, engine houses, etc., etc., to be saved?
Not a little of his morning preaching was, as we have said, in the line of expository discourse. This, from a coldly critical point of view, could not be called scholarly, and was rather repetitious, but it was thoroughly practical and characteristic, and the love which the overwhelming majority of the people bore to their pastor made every word tell, so that defects were largely forgotten. He had certain pet words which he rather overworked, and, to say the least, some mannerisms. His method was to quote frequently from the scriptures, and, in his later days, with many a page turned down at the corners of the big pulpit Bible. We can see him yet, as with one hand on his eye glasses and nose near the page, he quickly found the various texts desired to support his arguments. Mr. Chambers, as Mr. Moody would put it, was a master of "the original English" of King James's Version of the Scriptures. Occasionally he slipped on a word, the double p's seeming especially to bother him at times. His particular bête noire was the tenet of the limited atonement, and if there was anything he loved to pound at, it was this. What he gloried in was the proclaiming and strengthening, with proof texts, of the doctrine of the universal atonement, such as I John, ii., 2. In one instance, after the word "propitiation" had on his, for once recalcitrant tongue, reached no further than the first syllable, the full word came out as "appropriation", which was not so far from the idea of the apostle after all.
He was especially impressive in the reading of hymns, and he was so, because as it seemed to us, he felt so deeply the sentiment expressed in the words. Memory will never allow us to forget his frequent rendering of "Oh to grace how great a debtor!" His favorite term for his Best Beloved was "Our Lord and Master," but whatever name he used, one always knew that our pastor was in close and daily touch with Him and that was the secret of his godly life and his power for good. Other hymns, "There is a holy city", "My days are gliding swiftly by" (to the tune "Shining Shore") and some that are rarely heard now, were also favorites. There is proof to the memory that "history is a resurrection."
John Chambers was not only a natural orator and master in the pulpit, but he also made an admirable presiding officer. This was not only on account of his superb and commanding figure, his leonine countenance and his eagle eye, but also because of his ability to understand an audience and take in all the possibilities. He knew just at what moment to test its powers. His glance seemed to be an individual recognition of every face. It was not until he was well into the fifties that he ever used spectacles or eye-glasses, and even when his brows were frosty he was able, by employing the best oculists and the right lenses, to see apparently everything and everybody in the house. Many a time he turned what threatened to be a total failure of a meeting into a brilliant success. By some witty remark, a thrilling announcement, a touch of blarney—of which he was always easy master, or a dramatic action accompanying some winsome invitation, he made himself master of the assembly. By original and ingenious methods of silencing, shortening, or politely extinguishing bores, "platform burglars" or a long-winded or unskilful speaker, he saved the day, or rather the night. He was always the refresher of weary audiences.
I remember when a certain one of a delegation on some really worthy charitable enterprise, after addressing an audience not specially interested in the matter presented to them, made the remark (in conclusion) that "thus far what they had received had not paid their travelling expenses". This roused the big heart of John Chambers, and when that was warmed Christians had to look out for their pocket-books. Striding forward from the sofa, he cried out: "Why, brethren, this will never do! Let the trustees come right up and empty out the baskets" As to the personal appearance of the preacher, let us recall that in my childhood the stock and rolling collar were in fashion. The former made of black satin was stiffened and made to spring on the neck with wire. Some of the old leathern stocks were still visible among elderly men, many of whom still wore also the flap-front breeches and were unable to approve of the newer style. Usually this outer conservatism of dress, was the index of inner conservatism of opinions, theological or otherwise. Dr. Chambers made slight change in the cut of his clothes as he grew older, yet somehow seemed always, as to his outer garb, a man of his age. It was the era also of gold headed canes and of watch fob pockets in men's trousers, outside of which hung the watch chain or ribbon, with gold buckle or seal, which, by an Americanism, is called the fob itself. Most ministers, and among them Mr. Chambers, wore in the pulpit, a dress coat and a low cut vest showing considerable expanse of white shirt bosom, which then had pleats an inch or so in width. The watch and "fob" were taken out at the opening of the sermon, laid on the cushion and invariably put back just before the sermon ended, a sign which we small boys of course welcomed. As a rule, it was coarse manners to snap a hunting case watch in John Chambers's presence, for rarely did the pastor pass the bound of appointed time, for he believed that punctuality was righteousness. He kept within limits and his moderation was known to all men. I do not remember that our pastor carried a gold headed cane, though I think he possessed one or two. His boots were always immaculate and shining. Standing up in black and white, a commanding figure, with ruddy, or rather roseate face, and stroking his hand through his magnificent hair, which in later years he wore behind his ears, the form and mien of John Chambers are imperishable pictures in memory. In hot weather it was his custom, on going home in the morning, to change his underclothing, from socks to collar, throughout. Though on oppressively hot days one might occasionally, after a service, see him with a wilted collar, yet year in and year out, the impression derived was of a physical personality as sweet as that attributed to Alexander the Great, whose close acquaintance with water, in its cuticular application, was held up to us youngsters as a delectable example.CHAPTER XII.
TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS.