tion. We believe his purpose was sincere to train a body of men who, under the most admirable discipline ever instituted, would correct and reform the errors of the Church.

This they did do at first; and the excellence of the Jesuit schools, which could attract such minds as Descartes, Bossuet, Corneille, Voltaire, and the high character of many of its missionaries and preachers, command admiration. To the Protestant Reformation, Loyola honestly led a counterreformation; and, had his mighty mind and invincible will remained at the helm, many of the abuses into which the order fell might have been averted. Yet, after saying this, the principle of yielding up the conscience and the soul to the will of an earthly superior is most pernicious, and must result, as it has, in the worst phase of spiritual despotism.

It is a matter to excite wonder to see this order flourishing among our free institutions. It would seem that it must be a very uncongenial soil; still, we must remember the large foreign element in our civilization, which gives it ample space in which to spread.

It becomes us to match their zeal for education with an equal zeal to plant and sustain as good and better schools. It becomes us to emulate the Jesuits in their enthusiasm, to show an equal willingness to make sacrifices. Then we need have no fear that any secret machinations of this order will undermine the foundations of our government or imperil our free institutions.

GEORGE HERBERT HOSMER.

PREACHING.

The fundamental distinction between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism is that, while the former seeks to help man through sacraments, the latter seeks to help him by the "foolishness of preaching." The demand for the quickening word was perhaps the loudest at the beginning of the Reformation; and, in answering that demand, Protestantism found one of the sources of its influence, and it has all along developed in the line of preaching, and laid special stress upon its importance. Sacramental churches allow preaching, but Protestant churches insist upon it. The gift of preaching is the essential quality of the Protestant minister. It has been wittily said, he may be pious, but he must be eloquent. No amount of inward graces or of external usefulness can quite compensate the lack of it. Churches are full or empty, as the discourses of their ministers are acceptable or not. Ministers may, if they choose, deplore this condition of things. They may urge that people should attend church for other and deeper reasons,- for the preservation and increase of the social or religious sentiment, for the sake of example, and out of a spirit of loyalty. And in so doing, especially if they urge people in an interesting way, they may repress a little the undue growth of the peculiar Protestant spirit. But they cannot eradicate it, without destroying the principle upon which Protestantism rests. Whether they wish it or not, it will depend for its growth and vitality upon the quality of its preaching. Protestantism appeals to the desire of men to be quickened and informed through the medium of the spoken word, and it must stand or fall as it sufficiently or inefficiently meets that desire. And now, since preaching is such an important factor in the life of our churches, it is well to ask ourselves what is meant by preaching, what methods of preaching are best, what are some of the causes of its ineffectiveness, and what is the best kind of preparation for making it more effective and useful. Perhaps the whole consideration of these questions will depend upon the definition given of

preaching or the conception of its function. According to the view of its essential character will be opinions of what are the best methods, and the causes of failure or success.

What, then, is preaching? In its primary sense, as we all know, it is a proclamation of something. The prophets proclaimed some message of threatening or promise which they had received from God. The apostles spoke out of the new consciousness awakened by the life of Jesus. But preaching does not end with a mere declaration of something. The conception in the mind of the speaker must be stated in such a way that it will convince the mind and move the heart of the hearer, in reference to some religious truth. It thus differs from other kinds of speech. The poem is a statement of some truth, in such a way as to make the reader admire its beauty; but sermon is an address so arranged that the hearer may not only be moved to admiration, but to obedience. The end of the lecturer is gained when he convinces, that of the preacher when he arouses to action. The essayist is satisfied if he pleases, by an adequate command of his materials and a felicitous arrangement of them, the few who are interested in his theme. The preacher ought not to be satisfied, unless there is inspiration in what he speaks, for all.

Other speakers may choose topics which suit them; but the preacher, unless he chooses to yield his special function, must choose his in the sphere of morals and religion. It is not his business to speak of everything that lies on the surface of human affairs, but of that which lies at the base of all human activity, and which must always determine the form of its manifestation. In short, preaching is the persuasive statement of religious or moral truth, with reference to practice. This, however, is only a statement of what preaching is. It is not intended as a limitation of what the preacher may properly do. He may deem it wise to discuss certain problems of criticism, of philosophy, of social life, and so on, and by so doing may render useful service. He will only be mistaken, when he considers such discussions as entirely fulfilling the purpose of preaching.

In my definition of preaching is contained the suggestion of the best methods. It follows from it that it should be simple. The poet or the essayist may properly say that it is his right to express his thought in the way that best suits him. He has no duty to the public in this respect: it is a pure matter of taste. But preaching is, as we have seen, a matter of practice. It deals with the moral and religious obligations of man, and these are of universal concern. It should be the object of the preacher so to arrange his thoughts and so to express himself that his meaning may be apprehended with reasonable effort on the part of the average hearer. If his subject is one of universal significance, if it is intended to supply any general need, however deep its implications, it may be stated in such a way that people in general will know what is meant. I have been told of a minister who preached a sermon in one of the suburban churches, which the most intelligent man in the congregation said he had to make the greatest effort to follow and dimly understand. What was the value of that discourse to the congregation? It may be said that, in trying to be simple, preachers may become shallow. If that be so, it is better that even a commonplace truth should be stated in an impressive way than that profound thought should fall upon sleepy eyes and unheeding ears. But I doubt whether it is so. I do not see any necessary conflict between simplicity of style and depth of thought. It is often the case that failure clearly to understand the speaker arises out of his previous failure clearly to see his own intention and meaning. And, admitted that there are subjects in themselves so profound, and demanding so much closeness of reasoning and subtlety of statement that they cannot be generally understood, it may be questioned whether such subjects, except at special places and under special circumstances, are appropriate for pulpit consideration.

In the next place, the sermon should be direct, by which I mean that it should have an immediate purpose. That is, perhaps, the greatest merit of the real sermon. It may not

read so well in the newspapers, but sermons are not made primarily for that. It may not be so interesting to the readers of it if it has any-a century after it was delivered. But it will accomplish the object of all sermons,the action of minds and hearts with reference to some present fact. Many sermons seem to have no reference to anything in particular. They seem to be mere deductions from a text or discussions of an abstract principle, without any perception of the conditions of the people to whom they were preached. They remind one of the sermon of a minister from the words, "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish": "The subject of repentance is one which, at times, should be brought to the public mind." They belong to that class of sermons which hit nobody, because nobody has been aimed at. The true sermon is discovered, when it is seen to have a special application to the real needs of a real audience, and when every hearer from time to time feels that the secrets of his heart have been revealed. Mr. Froude well describes this kind of preaching in his account of Cardinal Newman, when at St. Mary's, Oxford,—“He seemed to be addressing the most secret consciousness of each of us, as the eyes of a portrait appear to look at every person in a room." It is such preaching that makes us all feel that it is no useless function that keeps the hearer awake and attentive, and sends him away with resolve and aspiration in his soul.

I spoke of preaching as having for its supreme object the persuasive presentation of moral and religious truth. This leads me to speak of another necessary quality of preaching. It should relate to that which touches men most closely and to the needs which are supreme. After all, this is the real feeling which underlies the demand for preaching, and which is the ample justification of it.

In spite of appearances to the contrary, the men and women who are of any value in any community like to have the problems of life considered from the stand-point of moral and religious principles. That is why, whether conscious of it or not, they go to church Sunday after Sunday. They