The subject must be well defined. It may be of a general nature, but our conception of it should be so clear that we always know just what we are speaking about. This is more necessary in an extempore speech than in a written one, although the want of it will be felt severely even in the latter. A strong, vividly defined subject will give unity and life to a whole discourse, and often leave a permanent impression on the mind. To aid in securing this, it will be well for the preacher, when he has chosen a subject, to reduce it to its simplest form, and then by writing it as a phrase or sentence, stamp it on the mind, and let it ring in every word that is spoken; that is, let each word aid in carrying out the great idea, or in leading to the desired object, and be valued only so far as it does this. Those interminable discourses, that seem to commence anywhere and end nowhere, may be called sermons by courtesy, but they are not such in reality. The word “sermon” signifies “a thrust,” which well expresses the concentrativeness and aggressiveness that should distinguish it, and which nothing but a well-defined theme can give. It ought not to glitter with detached beauties, like the starry heavens, but shine with the single, all-pervading radiance of the sun.
This unity of theme and treatment is not easily preserved. It is hard to see in the mind’s eye what we know would please and delight those who listen, and turn away and leave it, but it is often necessary to exercise this more than Spartan self-denial, if we would not reduce our sermons to mere random harangues. Not that illustration should be discarded, for the whole realm of nature may be pressed into this service, and a good illustration in the right place is often better than an argument. But nothing, whatever its nature, should be drawn in, unless it so perfectly coalesces with the parent idea, that a common vitality flows through them. If this is the case, the unity will be unbroken, though even then it often happens that the idea would produce a better effect in connection with another theme, and should be reserved for it.
Usage has established the practice of employing a passage of Scripture as the basis of a sermon. This is of great advantage to the minister, for it gives the discourse something of divine sanction, and makes it more than a popular address. Opinion is divided as to whether it is best to select the text, and arrange the discourse to correspond with it, or reversing this order, to compose the sermon first, and thus secure the harmony that arises from having no disturbing idea, and at the last moment choose a text of Scripture that will fit it as nearly as possible.
No doubt the comparative advantages of these methods will be to a great degree determined by the occasions on which they are used. When a subject is of great importance, and we wish to be precise in explaining it, we may adopt the latter method, but the former is more generally useful. There are so many valuable ideas and important suggestions in the words of Scripture, that we can ill afford to deprive ourselves of this help. For the Bible, with all its ideas, is common property. No minister need fear the charge of plagiarism, when he borrows, either in word or thought from its inspired pages. He is God’s ambassador, with the Bible for his letter of instruction, and the more freely he avails himself of it, if it be done skillfully, the better for the authority of his mission. We may often select a subject that appears dark and confused, but when we have found a passage of Scripture embracing the same idea, there may be something in it that will solve every doubt, and indicate the very thoughts we wish to enforce. For this reason we believe that under ordinary circumstances, the practice of first constructing the sermon and only at the last moment before delivery, tacking on a text, is not the best.
Another reason in favor of previously selecting the text is worth consideration. The people, who are not supposed to know anything of the subject, expect, when we read a passage of Scripture, as the foundation of our remarks, that it will be something more than a mere point of departure. They anticipate that it will be kept always in view, and furnish the key-note to the whole sermon. This is but reasonable, and if disappointed, they will not so well appreciate what is really good in the discourse. We would not sacrifice unity to a mere rambling commentary on the words of the text. Let the subject be first in the mind and bend everything to itself. But let the text be next in importance, and the whole subject be unfolded with it always in view. It may be feared that the work of sermonizing will be rendered more difficult by observing this double guidance, but if a proper text be chosen—one that, in its literal meaning, will embrace the subject—the labor will be much lightened.
It is a common fault to take a passage of Scripture consisting of a few words only, and put our own meaning upon it, without reference to the intention of the inspired writer who penned it. This borders very closely on irreverence. If we cannot use God’s words in the sense he uses them, we had better speak without a text at all, and then our sin will only be a negative one. The taking of a few words divorced from their connection, and appending them to a discourse or essay, that has no relation to their true meaning, is not less a profanation than it would be to prefix the motto, “Perfect love casteth out fear,” to a fashionable novel. But when, on the other hand, we take a text that contains our subject, and expresses it clearly, we are prepared to compose a sermon to the best advantage. The subject present in our own mind runs through every part of the discourse, making it a living unity, instead of a collection of loose and disordered fragments; while the text, being always kept in view by the hearers as well as by the speaker, leads all minds in the same direction, and gives divine sanction to every word that is spoken. It is not without reason that the people, whose tastes are nearly always right, though they may not be able to give a philosophical explanation of them, complain of their preacher when he does not “stick to his text.” It is right that he should so adhere.
A man of genius may neglect this precaution, and still succeed, as he would do, by mere intellectual force, were he to adopt any other course. But ordinary men cannot, with safety, follow the example of Sydney Smith. His vestry complained that he did not talk about the text he took, and, that he might the more easily reform, they advised him to divide his sermons as other preachers did. He promised to comply with their request, and the next Sabbath began, “We will divide our discourse this morning into three parts; in the first place we will go up to our text, in the second we will go through it, and in the third we will go FROM it.” It was generally allowed that he succeeded best on the last division, but preachers who have not his genius had better omit it.
These rules in relation to the absolute sway of object, subject and text, may appear harsh and rigid, but cannot be neglected with impunity. A true discourse of any kind is the orderly development of some one thought, with so much clearness, that it may ever afterward live as a point of light in the memory; other ideas may cluster around it, but one must reign supreme. If it fails in this particular, nothing else will redeem it. Brilliancy of thought and illustration will be wasted, as a sculptor’s art would be on a block of clay.
A man of profound genius once arose to preach before a great assemblage, and every breath was hushed to listen. He spoke with power, and some of his passages were full of thrilling eloquence. He poured forth beautiful images and deep solemn thoughts, with the utmost profusion. Yet when he took his seat a sense of utter disappointment filled the hearts of all present. The sermon was confused. No subject could be traced that bound it together, and made a point of union to which the memory might cling. Had he not read his text no one could have guessed it. It was a most impressive warning of the necessity of laying a foundation before erecting a magnificent structure. Had he adhered to the thoughts expressed in his text, which was one of the richest in the Scriptures, his eloquence and power would not have been thrown away.