Music hall discourses, miscellaneous sketches, ministerial notes, and prison incidents

Contents

DISCOURSES.

PAOB.

Life of the Author — Introduction, i-xvi

Part First

1. Nothing could be more unpromising than this, the last commission of Christ to his disciples. To human appearance it was wanting in all the essential elements of success. It was wanting in the popularity of its author; in popularity of doctrine, and popularity of its heralds. First, the Author. — Had he started from a distinguished city of some vast empire, and from the first schools and authorities of his times, and been exceedingly popular among his own countrymen, and had presented attractive doctrines, and been followed by accomplished disciples, the world perhaps might give him a hearing. But he was from a small province, and from a small and despised city of that province. The whole of Judea was less in extent than the State of New York, and so small that Cicero affirms that " Their's must be a small God, to govern so small a territory." Could he have boasted of authority from Rome, the seat of the world's empire, or honorary degrees from Athens, the seat of learning and home of Plato and

Aristotle or even from Jerusalem, the capital of his own country, human calculation might have looked on the enterprise with favor. But to be nurtured in the most insignificant city, of so small a domain, the inhabitants of which were a byword of contempt, and the name Nazarene a reproach ; to be a working carpenter, the son of a carpenter, housed in a stable, cradled in a manger, born in poverty, bred in poverty, and ever living in poverty ; then to be condemned by his own countrymen, and by the laws of the very religion he preached, condemned as an impostor, slain as a malefactor, — for the followers of such a leader to think of succeeding, and those disciples themselves of low birth, mean condition, without learning, without popular influence, in fishermen garb and Gallilean brogue, for them to aspire to the seats of the Aristotles and thrones of the Caesars, what could be more preposterous ! And for such disciples of such a leader to preach a doctrine the most repugnant to human nature, commanding to mortify the deeds of the flesh, condemning the natural lusts and passions of man, which lusts have been deified as gods and worshipped by kings and princes, orators and sages the most renowned of earth ; gods that give full indulgence to every evil yet agreeable to fallen nature ; — a Bacchus for the appetite, a Mars for ambition and murder, and a Venus for the lusts ; — such gods as lecherous man, all greedy, would wade through hell to worship ; gods supported by laws and customs of a thousand years, and by earth's chiefest philosophers and poets, whose works are even now the classics of our schools, — for such fishermen preachers to dare disturb the shades of Demosthenes and the manes of Homer ; what but a superhuman power could make them venture even the first attempt I ^ But they w^ere commanded, and they went in their Master's name.

And though laws and customs, principalities and powers, nature and philosophy, death and the Devil, all combined, were against them, nevertheless buoyed up and urged on by an invisible power, they felt wiser than Solon, stronger than Hercules, and braver than Csesar. They had a secret power the world was unacquainted with ; an ineradicable principle, which neither fagots, stones, nor steel could crush. Poor, yet rich in faith ; foolish, yet destroying the wisdom of the wise ; weak, yet mighty to the pulling down of strongholds ; fighting, yet not with flesh and blood ; conquering, yet not with carnal weapons, but by faith, by endurance, and by suffering. And here is the secret of their success — in bearing, enduring, suffering. The hope of immortality made them obedient unto death. The world had not seen the like. When from Jerusalem the Pharisees and disciples of Gamaliel, in their long-robed dignity, stood round a dying Stephen, and saw him praying for his persecutors, amid a shower of stones, as he was looking to Jesus at the right hand of the Father, and shouting triumphantly in death, they were astounded at the spectacle, and saw the Jewish hierachy crumbling before the suffering constancy of martyrdom. When Imperial Rome witnessed the chained martyrs marching smilingly to the rack and to the stake, welcoming the flames, which to them were but a fiery chariot to glory, — welcoming the chain of iron which is soon to be exchanged for a golden crown, — welcoming their mockery and ribaldry, when hearing far above their blasphemy, the watchword, " Be faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life ; " and seeing the heavens open to their enraptured vision, while they were shouting victory ! victory I — Rome at such a sight, shook to her foundation ; Jupiter astonished, leaped from his capitolium ; Bacchus reeling backward, hid his vine-clad brow; and Venus, — naked, blushing Venus, flew in terror from her pedestal to hide herself in shame ; while Mars found a new warfare, that shields and helmets could not resist, nor steel repel. Ah yes, the fishermen conquered. Against the world's customs, the world's philosophy, the world's laws, the world's gigantic vices, and the might and majesty of empire, they fought, and they conquered. Heathenism flew to the dens and caves, and Idolatry, as if smitten with a thousand thunderbolts, was scattered to the moles and bats. Satan fell as lightning from heaven. The banner of the cross waved over the capitol of the Csesars, and unnumbered millions of redeemed voices swelled in loud acclaim with the angels of God, — " Holy^ lioly^ lioly^ Lord God Abnighty, which was, and is^ and is to come ; the whole earth is full of thy glory P

2. We noiv consider the " manner " of their preachings in contrast with the ministrations of the present day, — No one will deny but that the pulpit is the great bulwark for the stability of government, the seat of the highest poetry, the home of the sublimest oratory, the fountain of the purest eloquence, and the " Legio Fulminea " — the thundering legion against vice, if it be properly manned. But the watchmen of the American pulpit have yet to learn, that to be " stuck over with titles wins no battles," and that reading an essay on metaphysical dogmas, "coldly correct, and critically dull," without one pointed thrust, or strong appeal, is not preaching. They have yet to learn that this fastidious elaborateness; this overweaning nicety in technicalities ; this " darkening counsel by words without knowledge ; ^' this uttering things too wonderful to be understood ; this cushioning the face of the hammer of God's word, lest it be too harsh for some dignified pew-holder ; this diluting and dulcifying the word of God to make it palatable for high life, and so palatable that the Devil himself might drink it without turning his stomach ; this hiding the sword of God's truth beneath diamonds, ribbons, and rhetorical flourishes ; this fighting with kid gloves, silver canes, and buskins, — will never overturn Satan's kingdom.

How would Peter look after being commissioned by heaven to preach, in coming to Gamaliel for schoolboy lessons, and copying enough of the Targums and Talmud s, to weave into a discourse, then start for Athens with manuscript in hand, and with the gruff* voice of a fisherman, and brogue of Galilee, an unlearned and ignorant man, as he and John were said to be, even after they had received the Holy Ghost, and there upon the forum of Demosthenes read a dissertation on the moral and intellectual merits of the Nazarene ? How ridiculous to stand before the household of CsBsar to demonstrate, from a written essay, the necessity of abandoning all the gods and religion of their fathers, all the customs, philosophy, and poetry of a thousand years, that they might be saved by a malefactor, crucified in that little rebellious province of Judea. What a tremendous excitement he would raise! What a bluster in the court ! What a furor would the reading of such a document excite ! and this too, from harsh lips, used to cry, " Let go and haul ! pull on the oar I look out for a storm ! " How soon would the terror-

,8 PREACHING FOR TBE TIMES.

stricken gods leap from their pedestals ? How soon would Plato and Aristotle seek the shade, and blush and bow before the unlettered Galilean ? How soon would the Pantheon be turned into a Cathedral ? and the whole Roman Empire turned upside down? It may be affirmed " that those times demanded earnest preaching, for they were less refined than ours." I ask what times do not demand it ? Nature is the same in all times. And when in New England, in the face of these giant-growing sins, was more vehement preaching ever demanded ? As to the refinement of those times, remember that Christianity was introduced into the Roman empire in an Augustian age of literature, an age of superior learning. And the sages of those times we call masters, and their works are the textbooks for our diplomas. And the same preaching now will have the same effect as then. And the world is to be Christianized by such preaching, if Christianized at all.

3. Object and Language of Preaching. — The apostles had but one motive, one object, and one aim ; and that was the conversion of sinners. If that were attained by preaching, they gave God the glory ; and if by their suffering and death, they rejoiced to be counted worthy to die. In perils by sea, in perils by land, perils in the city, and perUs in the wilderness, perils by robbers, and perils by false brethren, in weariness and painful ness, watchings and fastings, hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, in deliverance or death — they were alike invincible. Such were the first preachers of Christianity. In language they were untTammeled with the technicalities and dialectics of the schools, the prolific source of so many deists and atheists of oiir day; but coming direct from the people, their sympathies were with the people, their language was simple, earnest, vehement, and overwhelming. Goldsmith says of Dr. Johnson, if he were to write a fable about the fishes, he would make the little fishes talk like great whales. And Macaulay affirms that " All the doctor's books are wjitten in a learned language, which nobody hears from his mother, or his nurse ; a language in which nobody ever quarrels, or drives a bargain, or makes love ; a language in which nobody ever thinks or dreams ! " And here is the great fault of modern preaching. Its language is from books, not men. Religion is a social principle, entering into all the affairs of life, and should be preached in a social manner. The very name of homily, once meant a social discourse. Religion should be preached in naturalness. We are natural in every thing else but preaching. Away with your multitude of " firstly, secondly, thirdly," and forty other arbitrary divisions, subdivisions, and sub-sub-divisions. They are not allowed in other oratory, and by whose authority are they inflicted on the pulpit? By preachers, not by the people. The people demand social colloquial preaching ; such as Jesus delivered in parables by the sea-side ; when preaching about sheep, fishes, and harvest fields. Such was the preaching of Paul, when he preached all night at Troas. Such was the preaching of the golden-mouthed Chrysostom, when receiving vociferous applause from the audience. But now even a loud " amen " in our sleepy times, would start dignity from his boots, and shock a fashionable audience like an earthquake. Origen, who first intro-

* 279 duced metaphysical subtilties, also introduced dangerous heresies. And in the present day, dogmatic theology and mechanical preaching are making more infidels than all the infidel writers in Christendom. The Bible has been belied by its pretended defenders. O ye followers of the fishermen I Infidelity laughs at your sham fighting, your blank cartridges, and paper bullets. She mocks your fastidit)us folly in cushioning the hammer, covering the sword, veiling the pit, and stupefying the nostrils with metaphysical essences, to prevent the smell of brimstone. She derides your mock dignity in standing above the stature of common men. Come down from your scholastic stilts and walk like men. Doff your formal strait-jacket before your audience is congealed into an iceberg. Away with your essences and quintessences, and give your hungry people bread. Throw off the cumbrous armor of Saul, and choose the pebble-stones and the sling. Cry out, " Fire ! fire ' fire I " like a faithful watchman when the city is in danger. Not " Ig-nis ! ignis ! ignis ! fuge irce Dei Tonitrus ! " But " Fire ! fire ! flee the thunders of God's wrath." Let your words be simple. Some of the strongest expressions in language are composed of monosyllables. " God said let there be light : and there was light " — is one of them. Sanctimonious dignity would say, " The Omnipotent commanded ; and forthwith corruscations of effulgence descended upon the sable brow of Erebus." O supercilious pomposity ! Presume, O Professor Bubble, to teach language to the Almighty ! God's word is yea, nay, and amen. Jesus Christ could use satire. Concerning Herod, who was threatening his life, he said, " Go ye and tell that fox, Behold I cast out devils to-day and to-morrow, and cannot perish out of Jerusalem." Elijah could mock the priests of Baal, and say, " Cryaloud , for he is a god : either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awaked." John the Baptist said to the proud Pharisee and Sadducee, " O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" Peter said to them, " Ye have killed the Prince of life." He call them murderers to their face. Paul could be all things to all men with a language suited to the meanest capacity. But we, forsooth, to silence the batteries of hell, must flee from common language, and flee from common men, and fortifying ourselves behind the pulpit, we must give out orders in Latin, exercise in buckram, and fight with puff* balls I

4. Need of Change. — Thus we contrast with the preaching of our fathers and the apostles. What but a thorough change can meet the exigencies of the case ? Infidelity assumes new forms, erecting new batteries in our very midst, yet we must meet them with old stereotyped, man-made tactics, and sheathing the blunt blade of God's eternal truth, fight with split hairs, peacocks' quills, and ostrich feathers. Intemperance grows gigantic, unmet by either law or gospel. Maine Laws are but cobwebs, and pulpit essays but gossamer ; yet they tell us " there is no need of change." " Is there not a cause ? " said David when the Philistines threatened Israel with total overthrow, with none to meet the giant ; and is there not a " cause " for a change of warfare in our Israel ? a cause for simpler weapons, and for a stronger arm of faith ? Walk ye down these s-treets where Infamy holds her diabolical reign ; Debauchery her gilded chambers of death ; Intemperance her hell ; Blasphemy her orgies ; Incendiarism her midnight torch ; and Murder her drawn dagger, checked neither by Church nor State ; then tell me there is not a cause ! Tell me that a gospel able to save to the uttermost, the odds and ends of earth, the lowest of the low, cannot be made to bear in their case ! Tell me that a gospel which in olden times could overturn Roman prostitution, Roman laws, customs, philosophy, government, and all, cannot now avail with law and government in its favor I " Oh, Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon ; lest the Philistines rejoice, lest the uncircumcised triumph." I ask if all the harlots and inebriates were to reform to-day, how many churches of this city would welcome them on a level with themselves ? Hov^r many would receive them, and, Christ-like, have it said, " He eateth with them ? " How many would present a gospel they could understand ? How many to reform a drunken sailor would welcome him to their velvet cushions and millionary pews? How many of the preachers have time to visit these outcasts ? And if they should, how many are competent to sympathize with the mourning, and bind up the broken hearted ?

5. Methodists. — Shades of the Wesleys I Fathers of Methodism ! Where now your ancient glory ? Tomb of Whitefield ! Shrine of the brave I Where that voice that once shook the world ? Oh, stir your venerable bones ! rouse your hallowed dust ; and from your sacred ashes let there rise the phoenix of a new reformation. And ye fathers of American Methodism! Ye once despised Methodists ! ye whose names were cast out as evil ! ye graduates from Nature's own university — from kitchens, schoolhouses, camp-meetings, and barns. Ye whose diplomas were wi'itten with the finger of God ; and whose only criterion was success I Look down from your glorified seats, upon us your children. Bow your reverend heads and weep, if immortals can weep, over our condition. Look upon the heritage ye have left us. Where the example ye have taught us? Where the followers ye may call your children ? Where that untiring zeal which drove you through all weather, all reproach, all sacrifice of body and soul, for Christ ? Where that zeal for the conversion of sinners, which rejoiced with joy unspeakable at their coming home to God ; which considered every sermon ' a failure without immediate results ? a zeal that cries, " Give me souls else I die ! " Where that sympathy for the poor ? that Christ-like compassion for them which made many a multitude rise up and call you blessed ? Where that apostolic success which broke forth on the right hand and on the left ? which made the wilderness and solitary places to be glad, and the desert to rejoice and blossom as the rose? Where those Boanerges thundering along the line, breaking the ranks, and scattering the foes of God? Where those loud shouts that made many a Jericho fall, and many an enemy cry out, " It is the power of God ? " Where that unconquerable faith which took no denial; which laughed at impossibilities; which looked for great results, expected great results, and had great results ? Alas ! alas I " How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished." Alas ! " The bow that turned not back, and the shield of the mighty are vilely cast away." Oh, what a falling off is hiere I And why is this ? Is sin less abounding ?

14r PREACHING FOR THE TIMES.

Are the poor less needy of the gospel ? Is a world lying in wickedness now more easily converted ? Is there no need of the burning exhortations of our fathers ? Is there no need of watchmen that will cry aloud ; lift up their voice like a trumpet, and show my people their transgressions, and the house of Jacob their sins ? Has human nature changed, that men must be converted by other means than preaching ? Shall sinners go unwarned to hell ? Hear it, Almighty God I Shall they people the regions of dark despair without one inviting voice ? No I no ! by yonder Common, where Jesse Lee preached ; by yonder Old Elm, whose umbrageous boughs overshadowed the first Methodism of this metropolis, no I by the tomb at Newburyport, it shall not be I no, so long as Whitefield's bones remain in glorious repose upon our shore, our text shall yet ring in the castle walls of infidelity, and the ungodly shall hear it ; " He that believeth not, shall be damned." Not condemned merely, as some would have it, but damned, eternally damned in hell fire ! Alas, how few dare to preach the doctrines of their creed I

6. Modern Wliitefields. — A certain divine stated to me his reasons for this spiritual dearth, in New England. He said that he thought there had been too much preaching, and too great preaching ; there were so many Whitefields now-a-days, that their preaching ceased to have the effect of early times. Oh, wonderful age of Whitefields this I I ask, who among the modern Whitefields preaches from seven to fourteen times a week, and when preaching six or nine times, considers it short allowance ? Who, with deep emotion before every audience, speaks.

" As if he ne'er might preach again, A dying man to dying men."

Who, in agony of soul, and strong cries and tears, feels the destiny of immortal souls hung upon the efforts of every moment, either for heaven or hell ? Who feels his knees trembling, his veins swollen ready to burst, his heart bursting with grief, and his eyes a fountain of tears while praying, " Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me ; " and still feeling, " Wo is unto me, if I preach not the gospel " ? Who sacrifices all for Christ — home, friends, ease, wealth, reputation? Who goes from house to house, and from town to town, like a blazing comet, preaching at all hours, in all places, and in all weather, and giving every dollar for Christ! O ye modern Wliitefields ! Ye who use your voice only one day in seven, and always harp, harp, harp on the same key, never exerting more than one muscle, and that the tonsil of the throat, killing yourself, and, if possible, killing your audience deader than yourself I Great indeed are your labors, and gi'eat your sacrifice I Ye have distress it is true, but it is a bronchial affection ; and ye have deep-seated agony, but it is in the constipation of the digestive organs^ rather than the soul !

7. Is there no Remedy ? — O America I has it come to this ? Shall science advance with railroad and telegraphic speed, and preaching retrograde ? Shall infidelity triumph on Puritan soil ? Shall its blights and blasts and mildew hang over us like the plagues of Egypt ? Shall its pitchy cloud of locusts, eat up every green thing, with no rod of Moses to drive them into the sea ? Shall it part the sacred ties of husband and wife, desti-oy the confidence of society, desecrate the Sabbath, tear down our altars, break up our Sabbath schools, undermine the pulpit, trample upon the Bible, blaspheme the Holy Trinity, break over all law, all order, disorganize all government, throw off all responsibility to God, fill the retreats with spiritual maniacs, transforming men into hobgoblins, pale, walking, melancholy ghosts, shapes jostling together like icebergs, crushing every hope, whose tempers are as touchy as friction, jealous as fiends, and morose as the damned? Shall these pall-bearers, leading the van of all evils, open the box of Pandora, the floodgates of hell, and send streams of infernal lava in every circle, to every fireside, with no prophet to cry against it ? Shall the giants of Gath with shield and spear, and loud menacing, blaspheme and defy Israel's God, with no David and sling to meet them ? Shall the ark, the covenant of all our hopes, and promises for earth and heaven, fall into their hands, with no Eli to mourn its loss ? Shall this spiritual famine continue, with no Carmelite Elijah to pray for rain ? While the walls of Zion are crumbling, and the mason work of our hopes is washing away, shall we still daub with untempered mortar? While the dead and dying are lying around us, can we find no balm in Gilead ? Hark ! the sound of conflict is heard! The battle is already begun; the enemy have sounded the charge with the voice of the trumpet ; and shall we flee to our tents, fold our arms, and cry " Peace, peace " when there is no peace ? God of Sabbaoth forbid I No ! no I the foes of God shall hear a rumor ; the coming of a blast is upon them ; the wing of the death angel is heard ; there is a sound of a going in the tops of the mulben-y-trees ! God with a

28& shout, is in our camp ! The Dagon of infidelity, shall fall before the ark of the Lord. Through the long night of our past experience, Gideon's torches now blaze the sky, and shouts go up " The sword of the Lord and of Gideon I " The Midianitish hosts shall tremble at the boldness of the faithful. Already their swords, are turned against their fellows. To the spoils, to the spoils I O Israel I Sound the battle I On I on to the charge I The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong ; for one shall chase a thousand, and two put ten thousand to flight. Awake I Awake ! New England ? Arise and shiq,e, for thy light has come ; and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.

8. Demosthenes. — Could Demosthenes and Cicero have had the themes of the pulpit for their oratory, what models of eloquence might have come down to us ? And what would be their indignation, could they see the cold, lifeless essayists now occupying our pulpits, with false dignity striving —

" The parts of a hair to divide Betwixt the north and north-west side,"

when the interest of immortal souls, destined for an eternity of pleasure or pain, are hung upon their efforts — an interest which the angels of God are more concerned in, than in the fate of empires, — an interest which robbed heaven of its high occupant and brought the Son of God to earth, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, — an interest which grasped the world's iniquities, and with ten thousand deaths pierced him to the tree ; brought upon him the concentrated agonies of all ages, all pains, all penalties, for all time, and eternity ; that made the earth quake, rocks rend, graves open, heaven frown, angels weep, hell shudder, and even the Father to hide his face, when justice dropped her unpitying thunder-bolts upon the son of his love, — an interest which spans three worlds, earth, heaven, and hell, — an interest so deep in the hearts of angels, that while they pass over the consultations of courts, cabinets, and kingdoms, and the overturning of thrones and dynasties, in their high commission, they settle down in some obscure prayer circle, and there finding a penitent Lazarus, bind up his wounded spirit, pouring in the oil of joy for mourning, and presenting him the white stone, with a new name written in it, which shall be his password at the gates of heaven. These messengers of mercy, then carrying the glorious news back to heaven, make all the angels of God rejoice over one sinnner that repenteth. They are more interested in a sinner's welfare, than for an empire, because the soul is immortal, and its kingdom, which is to be won or lost, eternal.

It shall reign in heaven, or wail in hell, when the empires of Alexander and Napoleon are sunk like a mill-stone into the sea of oblivion ; and when our beloved America, grown gi'ay with years, and corrupt with the political vampires now at her vitals, shall have performed her mission among the nations, and found her tomb ; and when the world itself is dissolved like the " baseless fabric of a dream," and the stars are fallen " even as a fig-tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind," and the sun, and systems of suns are all blotted out ; " and the heaven is departed, as a scroll when it is folded together, and passed away with a great noise, and the elements have melted with fervent heat." Then shall the soul, secure in its own immortality, smile at the " wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds." Could Demosthenes have had the themes of the atonement for his orations, embracing all worlds, all intelligences, all interests, present, past, and future, — and could he pour into them the self-sacrificing spirit, the courage, energy, and vehemence, which pervades his Philippics, what models of eloquence might have been ours ! Then, could he see with what indifference these themes are handled by modern divines, how lifeless, and tearless their efforts in the face of the most appalling infidelity, and enormous sins, he would swear by the gods that they were bribed by Philip ; or affirm as a Christian, that they were leagued with the Devil.

9. The Conflict. — How long, O Lord, shall these things be ? How long shall the broken-down walls of Zion lie desolate ? How long shall the wicked triumph? How long shall the watchmen sleep? How long shall the dry bones of backslidden churches, "very many and very dry," fill the valleys and whiten the plains, with no trumpet to sound a resurrection, and no prophet to call breath upon them ? I behold a vast multitude before me. What meaneth this gathering but the coming together of bone to its bone, at the call of God's spirit ? What meaneth the heaving of these sighs, these deep, suppressed groans, struggling with the travail of your pent-up spirit, but the rattling power of the resurrection ? What meaneth the gush of these tears that thread your cheeks, this net-work of tender hearts, but the sinews that bind bone to its bone? What mean these gifts, these generous contributions, these benevolent offerings, but the flesh that covers the dry bones of your profession ? What meaneth the burden of these prayers going up as incense before God, but the skin that hideth your good works beneath the sovereignty of Heaven ? But shall this be all ? Can these dry bones live ? Shall there be no breath of faith ? Shall you come together in vain ? give in vain ? weep in vain ? pray in vain ? Shall we see the beauty of form only, — the fair countenance, the lovely eye, yet eyes that see not, ears that hear not, and hearts that beat not, with no breath in them? Then come from the four winds, O breath, and let these bones live ?