mes, a smaller circle has long known
and loved him as the faithful and able preacher and pastor,--as one to
whom the most beautiful description ever written of the character of a
good parson might be truly applied; for

"A good man he was of religioun,
That was a poure Persone of a toun:
But riche he was of holy thought and werk;
He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche,
His parishens devoutly wolde he teche.

* * * * *

And Cristes lore and his apostles' twelve
He taught, but first he folwed it himselve."

And it is in this character that he now comes before us in the volume
which is well entitled "The Simplicity of Christ's Teachings."

It is a misfortune that the qualities which distinguish most published
sermons are not such as to recommend them on the score of literary
merit. The volumes of religious discourses which are worthy to hold a
place in literature, when judged by the usual critical standard, are
very few. A very large proportion of those which are continually
appearing from the press deserve no remembrance, and fortunately have no
permanence. They are addressed to a special class of readers,--a class
generally neither of highly cultivated taste, nor of acute critical
perception. Their writers are rarely men of sufficient talent to win for
themselves recognition out of their own narrow set. What in the slang of
the day are called "sensation" sermons are no exception to the common
rule. Their momentary effect, depending upon exaggeration and
extravagance, is no indication of worth. We should no more think of
criticizing them in a literary journal, than of criticizing the novels
of Mr. Cobb or Mr. Reynolds. Some of the causes of the poverty of
thought and of the negligence of style of average sermons are obvious.
The very interest and importance of the subjects with which the preacher
has to deal oftentimes serve to deaden rather than to excite the mind of
one who takes them up in the formal round of duty. The pretensions of
the clergy of many sects, pretensions as readily acknowledged as made,
save them from the necessity of intellectual exertion. The frequent
recurrence of the necessity of writing, whether they have anything to
say or not, leads them into substituting words for thoughts, platitudes
for truths. The natural weariness of long-continued solitary
professional labor brings mental lassitud