mory, he had
to keep silent, or _depend on the Lord for help._ He thought he could at
least read the fifth chapter of Matthew, and simply expound it. But he
had no sooner begun the first beatitude than he felt himself greatly
assisted. Not only were his lips opened, but the Scriptures were opened
too, his own soul expanded, and a peace and power, wholly unknown to his
tame, mechanical repetitions of the morning, accompanied the simpler
expositions of the afternoon, with this added advantage, that he talked
on a level with the people and not over their heads, his colloquial,
earnest speech riveting their attention.

Going back to Halle, he said to himself, 'This is the _true way to
preach,_' albeit he felt misgivings lest such a simple style of
exposition might not suit so well a cultured refined city congregation.
He had yet to learn how the enticing words of man's wisdom make the
cross of Christ of none effect, and how the very simplicity that makes
preaching intelligible to the illiterate makes sure that the most
cultivated will also understand it, whereas the reverse is not true.

Here was another very important _step in his preparation_ for subsequent
service. He was to rank throughout life among the simplest and most
scriptural of preachers. This first trial of pulpit-work led to frequent
sermons, and in proportion as his speech was in the simplicity that is
in Christ did he find joy in his work and a harvest from it. The
committed sermon of some great preacher might draw forth human praise,
but it was the simple witness of the Word, and of the believer to the
Word, that had praise of God. His preaching was not then much owned of
God in fruit. Doubtless the Lord saw that he was not ready for reaping,
and scarcely for sowing: there was yet too little prayer in preparation
and too little unction in delivery, and so his labours were
comparatively barren of results.

About this same time he took another step--perhaps the most significant
thus far in its bearing on the precise form of work so closely linked
with his name. For some two months he availed himself of the free
lodgings furnished for poor divinity students in the famous _Orphan
Houses built by A. H. Francke._ This saintly man, a professor of
divinity at Halle, who had died a hundred years before (1727), had been
led to found an orphanage in entire dependence upon God. Half
unconsciously George Muller's whole life-work at Bristol found both its
suggestion a