But not all who use notes thus abuse them. Many employ them merely to prevent possible forgetfulness, and perhaps do not look at them once during the sermon. Yet it is still better to carry them in the pocket, and thus avoid the appearance of servile dependence, while they would still guard against such a misfortune as befel the Abbe Bautain, who, on ascending the pulpit to preach before the French king and court, found that he had forgotten the subject, plan and text!
By committing the plan to memory the mind takes possession of the whole subject. It is brought into one view, and if any part is inconsistent with the main discussion, the defect will be seen at once. If the plan is properly constructed, the mind is then in the best possible condition for speech. The object is fixed in the heart, and will fire it to earnestness and zeal, and the subject is spread out before the mind’s eye, while the two meet and mingle in such a way as to give life and vitality to every part. This is just what is needed in true preaching. The speaker’s soul, heated by the contemplation of his object, penetrates every part of his theme, investing it with an interest that compels attention. All the power he possesses is brought to bear directly on the people. We can scarcely imagine a great reformer—one who has shaken the nations—to have adopted any other method of address. Think of Xavier or Luther with their notes spread out before them, while addressing the multitudes who hung on their lips! The Presbyterian elder who once prayed in the presence of his note-using pastor: “O Lord! teach thy servants to speak from the heart to the heart, and not from a little piece of paper, as the manner of some is!” was not far wrong.
It is well to commit the plan to memory a considerable time before entering the pulpit. There is then less liability of forgetting some portion of it, and it takes more complete possession of the mind. This is less important when we preach on subjects with which we are perfectly familiar, for then “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.” But we are not always so favored. Even if the salient features are well known, some of the minor parts may require close consideration. This cannot be so well bestowed until after the plan is completely prepared, for before that time there is danger that much of our attention may be given to some idea which may be ultimately rejected, or changed with the plan. But when the plan is finished, each idea has settled into its place. If obscurity still rests anywhere, it will be seen at once, and the strength of the mind brought to bear on that particular point. The impressions then made are easily retained, because associated with a part of the prepared outline. Such deep meditation on each division of the sermon can scarcely fail to make it original in the truest sense of the term, and weave it together with strong and massive thought.
After the plan is committed to memory, we can meditate on its different portions, not only at the desk, but everywhere. As we walk from place to place, or lie on our beds, or at any time find our minds free from other engagements, we can ponder the ideas that cluster around our subject until they grow perfectly familiar. Even when we are reading, brilliant thoughts may spring up, or those we possessed before take stronger and more definite shape.
This course we would strongly urge on the young speaker. If diligently followed, it will be invaluable. Arrange the plan from which to speak as clearly as may be, and memorize it; turn it over and over again; ponder each idea and the manner of bringing it out; study the connection between all the parts, until the whole, from beginning to end, appears perfectly plain and simple. This method of preparation has been so fully tested by experience, that its effectiveness is no longer questionable.
It is important to grasp the whole subject, as nearly as possible, in a single idea—in the same way that the future tree is compressed in the germ from which it springs. Then this one thought will suggest the entire discourse to the speaker, and at its conclusion will be left clear and positive on the hearer’s mind. It is true that some acute auditors may outrun a loose speaker, arrange his scattered fragments, supply his omissions, and arrive at the idea which has not yet formed itself in his own mind. Such persons often commend preachers who are incomprehensible to the majority of their audience. But it is not safe to trust their applause for they are exceedingly apt to be in the minority.
After the plan is memorized, it is often of advantage to sketch the discourse in full; if this is done in long hand, there is danger that its slowness will make it more of a word-study than what it is intended to be—a test of ideas. Here short hand is valuable; and its use in this manner will at once detect anything that may be wrong in the plan, for if all is well arranged there need be no pause in the most rapid composition. If we are able at one effort to throw the whole into a dress of words, we can be confident that with the additional stimulus supplied by the presence of a congregation, it will be easy to do the same again. There should be no attempt, at the time of speaking, to recall the terms used in writing, but our command of language is usually improved by having so lately used many of the terms we will need again. Frequently there are fine passages in the sermons thus struck off at white heat which we would not willingly forget, yet it is better to make no effort to remember them, for we are almost certain to rise even higher in the excitement of speech.
Those who cannot write at a speed approaching that of the tongue, and who wish a little more assistance than is furnished by the plan, can make a brief sketch of it—a compact and intelligible model of the whole subject. A discourse that requires an hour in delivery may be compressed into a wonderfully small compass, without a material thought being omitted or obscurely indicated. Such a sketch differs from the plan in clearly expressing all the ideas that underlie the discourse, while the latter would be unintelligible to any but the writer. The one is only a few marks thrown out into the field of thought, by which an intended pathway is indicated; the other is an exceedingly brief view of the thoughts themselves, without adornment or verbiage. Some speakers who might feel insecure in trusting the notes and hints of the plan, would feel free to enlarge on a statement of their thoughts, so brief as to require only two or three minutes for reading. But this is only an expedient, and need not be adopted by those who have confidence in their trained and cultivated powers.
The method of committing to memory a skeleton for the purpose of securing our accumulations, is widely different from the systems of Mnemonics that were once so current. Ideas are linked together by natural, not artificial associations. It is the grasping of one thought that points to another, or dissolves, as we gaze upon it, into minuter ones, and is, in most instances, based upon that rigid analysis which cannot be dispensed with even by those who would think exactly. All who write their sermons would do well to adopt it. Strict analysis and broad generalization are the foundation of all science, and if the preacher builds upon them the world of spiritual truth will yield him its treasures.
After a plan has been fully prepared it may easily be preserved for future use, by being copied into a book kept for the purpose, or, what is more convenient in practice, folded into an envelope, with the subject written on the back. By the latter means a large number may be preserved in such form as to be readily consulted. These can be improved as our knowledge increases, so as to be, at any time, the complete expression of our ability on the theme treated of.