poet rebuked this glaring impropriety. Familiar as the passage must be to everybody, I cannot refrain from quoting it.

He that negotiates between God and man,
As God's ambassador, the grand concerns
Of judgment and of mercy, should beware
Of lightness in his speech. 'Tis pitiful

To court a grin, when you should woo a soul;
To break a jest when pity would inspire
Pathetic exhortation; and to address

The skittish fancy with facetious tales,

When sent with God's commission to the heart!

So did not Paul. Direct me to a quirk

Or merry turn in all he ever wrote,
And I consent you take it for your text,

Your only one, till sides and benches fail.

But still I grieve to say, that the christian heart is not seldom pained by levity of this sort in the sacred desk. The temptation to be witty and sarcastic easily besets some of the most popular preachers of almost every religious denomination. I have observed it, (very rarely to be sure,) but I have noticed it in men whom I greatly revere and admire. But what can they be thinking of? Is there a solitary example in the Bible to justify it? The greatest and holiest of all Preachers often excited the admiration of his friends and the hatred of his enemies by his pointed and powerful discourses; but did he ever make his disciples, or the Scribes and Pharisees laugh? It shocks one's feelings merely to ask the question. And is not Christ our great example in the pulpit, as well as out of it? If now we turn to the Prophets and the Apostles, which of them ever delivered a witty message, or preached a witty sermon? Did any of them make either the rulers, or the people, the

Jews, or the Gentiles laugh under their preaching? Did Isaiah, did Jeremiah, did Paul, or Peter, or John? Never-never. They felt that their commission was a serious commission, that the Bible was a serious book. They knew that God was serious, that Christ was serious, that heaven was serious, that hell was serious; and how could they cherish any but the most serious feelings, or utter any but the most serious sentiments in their proper vocation of "praying sinners in Christ's stead, to be reconciled to God?"

I know the apology which is sometimes offered, that it is as natural for some men to be sharp and witty, as it is to breathe. Very well-then let them keep out of the sacred profession. If they cannot restrain themselves in the pulpit, it is no place for them, whatever may be their talents, or even their piety. What would a parent think, if at the funeral of his only son, his pastor should intentionally use some expression to make the people smile? But how much more reprehensible would it be, than if while that son was on trial for eternity the preceding sabbath, and hundreds of others with him, the same pastor had made them all smile at some extravagant expression, or witty remark in the course of his sermon? To avoid every appearance of levity in your preaching, and every incentive to it, you will often be obliged to change the word or phrase, which would most exactly express the idea you intend, for some other, not quite so appropriate, but far better befitting the time and the place. The man that cannot do this, and do it cheerfully, should be

take himself to some other profession. It would no doubt be pushing this point to an unreasonable extreme, to say, that in no possible case, can a preacher excite a smile over his congregation, without himself being to blame for it. A word or a sentence may have a very different effect from what he intended, and he may be grieved and mortified to witness it. But such cases will very rarely occur, and when they do, they will serve to put him more effectually on his guard in future. I have no objection to a smile, to a hearty laugh, in its proper place. Man was made to laugh, as well as to weep; but not in the house of God; not under the dispensation of his word, not in "the gate of heaven." "Holiness becometh thine house, O Lord, forever."

Be bold and earnest, my dear E., in your preaching, as one "who must give account." Do not hesitate to call things by their right names, for fear of giving offence. Sin is sin, and hell is hell, however unwilling some may be to hear about either. Wherever they went, the Apostles "preached boldly, in the name of the Lord Jesus," and so should all his ministers. But that holy boldness which I would recommend, is altogether different from mere natural courage; from self-confidence; from harshness. A preacher may act as if he intended to drive his congregation to heaven, instead of drawing them. He may take such an attitude and use such language, and utter it with such tones of voice, as to make the impression on his hearers, that he has no regard for their feelings, but is determined to say what he pleases, and cut his way through at all hazards. This is not

what I mean by ministerial boldness. It is rashness. It is to clothe himself in thunder without the lightnings, and to provoke resistance, where the sinner should be made to tremble and ask, "what must I do to be saved?" A minister may be bold in his delivery and yet courteous; may show that he has no fear but the fear of God before his eyes, and yet that he would on no account wound the feelings of a child, if he could help it.

Whenever you address your people on subjects of everlasting moment, let every one see that you are greatly in earnest; that your heart, as well as your mind, is full of the subject. Boldness in the pulpit is not exactly synonymous with earnestness, though they commonly go together. A preacher may be "as bold as a lion," and at the same time give very little evidence, that he is earnestly bent on the salvation of his hearers. I hope this will never be said of you. Let it appear in every sermon, that you are not acting a part, but that you mean just what you say, and that your "heart's desire and prayer to God for your people is, that they might be saved." This, by the divine blessing, will make the "word like fire, and like a hammer, that breaketh the rock in pieces." We love to see men in earnest in every lawful undertaking. We expect but little from them, where this is not the case. And if, as the Apostle Paul tells us, "it is good to be zealously affected always is a good thing," it is emphatically so in preaching the gospel. But I must not detain you on this point, as I have several other suggestions to offer.

Always be tender as well as bold and earnest in

your preaching. Let it appear in your countenance, in your eye, in the tones of your voice, and in your whole manner, how "greatly you long after your hearers in the bowels of Jesus Christ." Some good ministers seem to labor under the impression, that they cannot faithfully preach the terrors of the law, without putting them on in their delivery. The pulpit must thunder and lighten and quake as Sinai, or their duty is not fully discharged. The consequence is, they seem to their impenitent hearers to be destitute of that tender compassion, which nature itself teaches us ought always to be felt for those who are ready to perish, however much they may deserve to perish. Where the countenance is stern, and the voice loud and imperative, the unhappy impression is made, not only that the preacher believes they will be lost, if they do not regard what he says, but that he is almost willing they should be. O how different this, from the manner of our blessed Savior in pronouncing the awful doom of that wicked city, which thirsted for his blood, and would soon drink it. "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children unto me, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not. Behold your house is left unto you desolate." How different from the great Apostle to the gentiles, in that most affecting appeal of his to the elders of Ephesus, "Watch and remember, that by the space of three years I ceased not to warn every one night and day, with tears."

That is indeed a mistaken and cruel compassion,