At this last hour, the speaker must not dwell upon the dangers he is about to encounter, or picture the desirability of escape from them. He has taken every precaution and made every preparation. Nothing remains for him but to put his trust in God, and bravely do his duty.
The order of opening services is different in the different churches, but in all they are of great advantage to the minister by overcoming excessive timidity, and giving an easy introduction to the audience. The hymn, or psalm, is to be read, which is not a very embarrassing task, and in doing it he becomes familiar with the sound of his own voice. Yet it requires many rare qualities to read well. Good sense and modesty are essential. The theatric method, sometimes admired, exaggerating every tone, and performing strange acrobatic feats of sound, tends to dispel the solemn awe and reverence that should gather around the sanctuary. Let the hymn be read quietly, with room for rise as well as fall, and all be perfectly natural and unaffected. The sentiment expressed by the voice should correspond with the meaning of the words. Even in this preliminary exercise, it is possible to strike a chord that will vibrate in unison through the hearts of preacher and people.
Prayer is still more important. When it is read, the same remarks apply as to the reading of the hymns. Each word should be made the echo of an inward feeling. But in most American churches prayer is extempore. The minister addresses heaven in his own words, on behalf of himself and congregation. The golden rule here is to pray really to God. That minister had no reason to feel flattered, whose prayer was commended as the most eloquent ever offered to a Boston congregation! The mass of humanity before us should only be thought of, in order to express their wants, and to intercede for them at a throne of grace. The simpler our language the better it is fitted for this purpose. Gaudy rhetoric, and even the charm of melodious words, if in the slightest degree sought for, is out of place. The only praise that should be desired from a congregation, in regard to their pastor’s prayers, is the acknowledgment that their holy yearnings and aspirations, as well as their needs, have been clearly expressed. All beyond this is disgusting.
Neither should fervid utterance be strained after. If deep emotions arise, and express themselves in the voice, it is well. But without these, mere loudness of tone will be empty noise; the prayer will be the hardest part of the service; and complex metaphors and profuse poetical quotations will afford very inadequate relief. But if the heart be full it is easy to pray, and this renders all the remainder of the service easier. A bond of true spiritual sympathy unites the preacher with all the good in his congregation, and as he rises to speak, their prayers are given for his success.
CHAPTER IV.
THE DIVISIONS—INTRODUCTION—DISCUSSION—CONCLUSION.
The sermon is the culmination of ministerial labor. Other duties are important, but preaching is highest of all. Example, conversation, private influence, only prepare the way for the great Sabbath work. In it the minister can speak to the assembled multitude with the freedom and boldness of truth. The believer receives deeper insight into God’s ways, and directions for his own walk. The careless listen while he denounces impending wrath and shows the only means of escape. He wields tremendous power, and if sincere and unselfish, he cannot fail to win stars for his heavenly crown.
We will consider the sermon under the three parts of introduction, discussion and conclusion. It is often divided more minutely, but these will be sufficient for our purpose.
Nothing is harder to frame than a good introduction. It is indispensable, for, however we may approach our subject there is a first moment when silence is broken and our thoughts introduced. The rustle of closing hymn books and the subsiding murmur of the audience, tell the speaker that the time has come. If he be sensitive, or has never spoken before, his pulse beats fast, his face flushes, an indescribable feeling of faintness and fear thrills every nerve. He advances to the pulpit, and reads from the Bible the words that are to be the warrant for his utterances, and breathing a silent prayer for help, opens his lips, and hears the tremulous echo of his own voice.
There is a vast difference between reciting and extemporizing at first, and the advantage is all on the side of recitation. Every word is in its proper place, and the speaker is perfectly calm and self-confident. He is sure that his memory will not fail in the opening, and will usually throw his whole power into it, causing his voice to ring clear and loud over the house. But it is different with the extempore speaker. He is sure of nothing, and the weight of the whole speech is heavy on his mind. He is glancing ahead, striving to forecast the coming sentences, as well as caring for those gliding over the tongue, and his first expressions may be feeble and ungraceful. Yet this display of modesty and timidity will conciliate the audience and secure their good will. We can scarcely fail to distinguish an extemporized discourse from a recited one, by the difference in the introduction alone.
Some persons commit the opening passages of the sermon, to avoid the pain and hesitancy of an unstudied beginning. But while this may accomplish the immediate object, it is apt to be at the expense of the remaining part of the discourse. The mind cannot pass easily from recitation to extemporization, and the voice, being too freely used at first, loses its power. The hearers having listened to highly polished language, cannot so well relish the plain words that follow, and the whole sermon, which, like the condor, may have pitched from Alpine summits, falls fast and far until the lowest level is reached. A written introduction may be modest and unpretending, but unless it is exactly like unstudied speech there will be a painful transition.