sails of a ship, lent for the occasion by Mr. Henderson. I stood in the altar, and to fine audiences preached the word of life, until we had hundreds of souls converted and sanctified; an account of which you may one day meet in my printed journal." Mr. C. adds: "I am now in London, C.W., preaching in a new and beautiful Gothic Wesleyan church, lately erected at a cost of thirty thousand dollars; but, alas! with an extravagance of space almost equal to that in Quebec. The ceiling, indeed, is somewhat different, reminding one of-pardon me, architects!-a great flat-bottomed scow inverted, and poised to an extraordinary height, the hold thereof' painted in imitation of oak; an accomplished light-absorbent, by the way, which, aided by galleries of the like colour, render the house sombre and gloomy, although enlightened by one hundred gas burners. Oh, gentlemen of the building committee, how much more lightsome and pleasant had been your temple had you draped it in modest white, and a saving on your gas bill withal !-a thing you might have readily anticipated by a little reflection upon a similar talent more or less distributed among colours. "The same difficulty is felt here as in Quebec, as regards the unsteadiness and vagrancy of the voice; unless the church is perfectly filled, it seems like beating the air. A minister remarked to me the other evening-'When I pray in that pulpit, it seems as if the vast vacancy above eats up my words.' Yes, and quite exhausts and disheartens before one is half through with the prayer or sermon, especially if one desires to have power with God, and with men, and to prevail (Gen. xxxii. 28). The pulpit does not project into the audience, after the manner of the 'home Wesleyan pulpits,' and which affords the English preachers such a manifest power over their vast audiences, but is set back to the wall. The orchestra is, indeed, behind the pulpit, but in a recess built to the church, to which there is a vast Gothic opening in the wall behind the preacher's head. "This recess is lofty and vaulted, like the main building, which, with the organ, seats fifty or sixty personsanother draft on the preacher's strength, in a wasteful and voicedividing direction; and uselessly expended, for most of the choir leave it after singing, complaining that they cannot hear there. Directly opposite the pulpit, at the other end of the church, is a large Gothic window, and a wide, lofty, empty space to keep it company -another demand upon the voice. 66 Now, all this inconsiderate tax upon a preacher's strength I consider 'simple folly'-nay, sinful. Oh, ye people of Canada, have mercy upon your preachers! Betray not thus the cause of God! Weaken not, dishearten not, destroy not the health and effectiveness of your ministers. Tempt them not thus, or the time may come when the twenty-five minutes' sermon may be as rife in Methodist churches as in English and continental cathedrals; the long-drawn aisles,' and stately columns, and avenues of pillared shade,' vaulted like another sky, disciplines the preacher to The clear harangue, which, cold as it is clear, "After preaching a few times in this church, and baffled and disheartened, I began to repent my visit; felt strongly inclined to retreat to some other town, where my labours might be more successful in winning sinners to Christ, without shattering my health, as last winter. It was suggested that a sounding-board over the pulpit might relieve from the difficulty some-and has considerably. The error is regretted by the trustees, not only from the fact of having wasted a thousand dollars upon this misconstructed ceiling -and which only a perverted taste could pronounce ornamental — but because it would require seven or eight hundred dollars to replace it with a proper ceiling. Perhaps, brother Wise, these remarks, if you make them known, may be useful elsewhere, in this church-building age. As the Methodist people grow rich, it is to be feared such like vagaries in church architec ture will be neither few nor far between-when the eye will be more consulted than the ear; when pulpit effectiveness must give way to architectural appearance-a fact which has contributed largely to the heartless preaching which prevails in English and continental cathedrals. One has only to listen to a sermon in one of them to be convinced of the truth of the remark. "But to return to my subject. To add to the disagreeableness of the place, no ventilation could be had from a single window; the 'design' of the architect forbade such a vulgarism! Gothic throughout, every window was as solid as lead and glass could make it. A little fresh air might be coaxed in by the doors and through some auger-like perforations in a few small pendents in the ceiling; fresh air from the attic!-foul air ascending there, cooling and accumulating, to be returned and re-breathed again, unpurged of its noxious qualities-and so in process continued. "The large lecture-room below was in a similar 'fix.' After holding meetings a week or two, the air became intolerable, and I protested. So the architect had his design' marred by determined men, who cut a passage to the pure air through his 'majestic Gothic windows,' and fifteen hundred people may now breathe comfortably, and hear the word with profit. "They have also 'closed in' the space in front of the large window, leaving an outline thereof upon the cloth screen. This alteration, with a sounding board of extraordinary dimensions, has lessened the difficulty considerably. Nevertheless, it is still an exhausting place to the speaker, and will so continue while the lofty curse hangs over head, and the cavern-like orchestra, as it is, behind. "However, the Lord has poured out his Holy Spirit upon us the last few weeks, and hundreds of souls have been converted, and scores of believers sanctified. But, oh, how exhausting and wearying is this effort! "Affectionately in Jesus, thy Lord and mine, JAMES CAUGHEY. 66 London, C. W., Feb. 3, 1855." The following letter, written subsequently to the above, is worth the serious consideration of those who have charge of fitting up places of worship: Brockville, Canada West, "May 16, 1856. "DEAR SIR,-You desire my opinion, 'whether it is better to distribute the gas lights over a place of worship, or to limit them to a central chandelier.' To this I reply: distribute them by all means; as, by so doing, you will not only distribute the light to greater advantage, but the gaseous air also, so that it cannot be wasted en masse, by currents of air in any particular direction. "A little of my own experience may not be amiss, perhaps. I spent last winter in Bellville, on the Bay of Quinte, preaching ten sermons a-week, my usual practice in revivals since my return from Europe; but in Bellville my health received an injury from which it may not recover for months. It happened on this wise: "In the centre of the church hung a circular chandelier, lighted with gas. It contained over forty gas-burners, within twenty-five feet of the pulpit. Behind me was a spacious ORCHESTRA gallery, and usually, cooler than other parts of the church; to which drifted the hot, gaseous atmosphere of the chandelier, borne by a current of air from the doors opposite the pulpit, which brought the entire mass fully in the face of the preacher. "During several weeks I felt myself singularly feeble in the pulpit, and could not preach over thirty minutes, without being entirely exhausted; and closed, usually, panting for breath. The church did not seem to the people uncomfortably warm; but, to me it was, or the air had lost all its vitality. We tried better ventilation remedy, but the people complained. I became still more feeble, and feared I should break down entirely. as a "At length, I began to suspect the atmosphere of the chandelier, and lowered the lights, which afforded me sensible relief; reduced them, finally, to a glimmer, which cast the audience into the shade, but secured me strength to move them to feel the truth. My strength returned, but with it a bad, wheezing cough, and serious injury, Unwilling to abandon the conflict, while scores of sinners were finding mercy, I kept on preaching-in the dark almost, but finally bade the good people farewell, and hastened away to this town, and gave battle' against the works of the devil. "But here, again, I was confronted with a similar foe to that at Bellville -a new chandelier three times the circumference of it, but containing only sixteen large burners, and within about twenty feet of the preacher's face, and sending down a most disagreeable glare upon the hearers directly beneath,! After preaching before it a few times, I protestedexplained to the trustees the injurious effects. They immediately removed it, and, at considerable expense, distributed the lights over the church. IT should be brief; if lengthy, it will steep Our hearts in apathy, our eyes in sleep: The dull will yawn, the chapel-lounger dose, Attention flag, and memory's portals close. It should be warm-a living altar-coal, To melt the icy heart, and charm the soul: A sapless, dull harangue, however read, Will never rouse the soul, or raise the dead. It should be simple, practical, and clear No fine-spun theory to please the ear; The fiery law, with words of love allayed, Will sweetly warm, and awfully persuade. It should be manly, just, and rational; Wisely conceived, and well expressed withal: Not stuffed with silly notions, apt to stain A sacred desk, and show a muddy brain. It should possess a well-adapted grace To situation, audience, time, and place: A sermon formed for scholars, statesmen, lords, With peasants and mechanics ill accords. It should with evangelic beauties bloom, Like Paul's at Corinth, Athens, or at Rome; Let some Epictetus or Sterne esteem, A bleeding Jesus is the Gospel theme. It should be mixed with many an ardent prayer, To reach the heart, and fix and fasten there: When God and man are mutually addressed, God grants a blessing-man is truly blest. It should be closely well applied at last, To make the moral nail securely fast: Thou art the man, and thou alone, wilt make A Felix tremble, or a David quake! JOSHUA MARSDEN. TREASURES OF THOUGHT. Thy soul that God has given, For fame a human sigh; Is full of germs and seeds, Her flowers above her weeds. She hides the modest leaves between, She loves untrodden roads; Her richest treasures are not seen By any eye but God's. Accept the lesson. Look not for Reward; from out thee chase All selfish ends, and ask no more Than to fulfil thy place. |