which every man feels for his family, he make some unusual exertion, or practise some unusual economy, there are not a few to say this man loves money,' or 'he loves the world after all his preaching.' I have known some of the best, and some of the most distinguished clergymen in this country, who have suffered in their reputation for such causes. And this has resulted in part, I think, from certain superstitious notions of the sanctity of the priesthood,-of an absolute distinction of the claims and interests of ministers, from the ordinary rights, and necessities, and feelings, of other men. The same concern, and tenfold greater, is laudable in another man, which in them is a blemish, if not a crime. But I beg to ask, if this is not a childish way of thinking? Is not a clergyman not only permitted but bound to be provident, as well as another man? Is he the only man, who, without conscience or care, may throw a destitute family upon the world? Does the apostolick declaration, that such a man is worse than an infidel, -as he is worse than an infidel,-apply to every body but him? Because he labours for the common welfare of society, is that a reason why he should be denied a participation in its common advantages and possessions? And yet, I suppose, if he should come forth, and should say to the community,-should say to the professional men, and the merchants, and the farmers, I am labouring for the common good as well as you, and am certainly as much entitled to an average of the publick wealth, as you,-as much entitled to have a fixed property, and liberal means of improvement and comfort, and a settled provision for my children; I suppose, if any minister or the body of the clergy should say this, it would be thought monstrous. There would be a cry of hireling ministers, and hireling priesthood,' indeed; not from two or three sects only, but from the whole country. And yet, saying all this would be urging nothing but the claim of simple equity.

I am far enough from advising that clergymen should put forward this claim; because I think their usefulness is more important than their comfort. The matter is, perhaps, best as it is. I do not, in what I have said, plead for the comfort of ministers, but for their usefulness. I pray the good sense of the community, that the effect of their labours may not be in any degree hindered by any irrational and superstitious no

tions of their distinction from the other classes of society, and therefore of their having no part in the ordinary anxieties of the community; of their deriving their commission or their call from heaven, and therefore having nothing to do with earth.

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I have already said, that I do not suppose that the charge of mercenary motives, in its grosser forms, is common. I do not suppose, that there are many persons in our churches, who are fond of the phrases, hireling ministers, hireling priesthood.' If there is one such person in our churches, or any where else, one who thinks, that in this country, where enterprise meets with such abundant recompense, and where the path to the highest honours of the state is open to all, but the clergy, who thinks, I say, that any man, who had expended his best days, and his best vigour, in eight or ten years of study, would then submit to a lot of labour, care and self-denial, for a bare competence of what almost every other man, with the same exertions, may accumulate and heap up; if there is one who thinks, that any man would, for a bare competence, devote his life to laborious and solitary studies, which almost necessarily impair his health, to the sympathies of the sick-room, and the dwelling of affliction, which waste and depress his feelings, to all the anxieties of the pastoral care, to the effort and excitement of addressing the people, that often sends him weary and suffering to his pillow; I say again, if one thinks this ministry the chosen resort of a hireling!-why, he must think so. He is not a man to be reasoned with, for his passions are at work, not his reason; his prejudices are enlisted, not his judgment; and what he wants not argument, but sense to understand an argument; not light, but a larger mind to receive it.

II. In the next place, it has been said, that, with rational and serious views of the ministry, those who discharge its offices would be less thought of personally, and their usefulness would be more regarded ;-and I cannot pass by the topick without one or two remarks.

Time was, when the good people of this land retired silently from the sanctuary, saying little of the sermon, and more of the duty of improving it, and of the solemn account to be given of their privileges. But now, sermons have their day. In some of our cities and villages, it has become a

point of etiquette to talk about them, to descant on their merits and defects,-to point out the beautiful passages and the bad, to compare the merits of successive discourses, and to establish the precedence of one or another,-until, however serious and weighty the impression, it is all frittered away by criticism, or evaporates in admiration, or goes off in the effervescence of praise. The last sermon of a favourite preacher is like the last tale or poem, talked about, and talked about, and yet to many just as useless, as a 'tale that is told.'

It is the tendency of an excitable age, to make too little of principles, and too much of things. We want more of the stern Cameronian zeal, which could sit for hours on the bleak hill-side, and listen intently to a dull sermon, not because it was eloquent, but because it was true. There is much discussion about preachers, in a style and manner, as if the benefit to be derived from them mainly depended, not on the matter, but on the man,-not upon what is said, but upon how it is said. We too much lose sight of the end in the means. The serious question is, not whether the preacher was eloquent and got himself reputation, but whether he was correct and impressive, and did us good. How many people think more of being delighted at church, than of being benefited. Nor can it be allowed, in answer to this remark, that pleasure and profit, in this case, necessarily go together. Are the persons who are most excited and fascinated with preaching, always the most earnest, devout, and pure? Are there not some whose sabbath-day excitements are looked forward to as a relief, or looked back upon as an atonement for their week-day stupidity; who, but for these excitements, could not get along with their consciences; and who, if they had duller preachers, might arouse themselves to be better men? Our religion, in fine, depends too much, at this day, upon our preachers, and too little upon our principles. Ministers formerly had too much influence on the faith of the people; now, they have too much influence on their feelings. If the ministers are dull, their hearers conclude that they, in consequence, must be stupid, and can do nothing; if they are earnest, the people are excited, and think they have nothing to do. So that the value of that pulpit eloquence,

which is so much prized and coveted, is almost brought into question.*

III. There is another and third misapprehension, which I have yet to notice. I know not, however, whether it will be easy to make this misapprehension palpable; for our habits are so strong and subtle, as scarcely to leave us aware of their influence. I shall, therefore, best exhibit the difficulty, perhaps, by a supposition, which will carry us out of the course of our habits.

Suppose, then, that instead of being assembled in the congregation to listen, by appointment, and according to custom, to any given individual, or to one of any given class or profession, that we had come together for common meditation, for mutual deliberation on the great and common concerns of our spiritual welfare. Now, if in these circumstances, any one of our neighbours and friends should arise and address to us, with earnestness, the exhortations of piety and affection,let it be with ever so much previous thought and consideration, the more the better,-if, I say, he should thus speak to us, from the fullness of his heart, it is evident, I think, that it would be much more impressive to us, than if any one. should ascend the pulpit by appointment, and speak the same words in the same manner. We should feel that such a one spoke to us as one of ourselves; that he spoke from the sense of common interests; that his interest, indeed, was one with ours; that he had no part nor concern in the matter, which

* Some years since a man of intelligence and piety gave me the following account, illustrative, as I think, of the paragraph to which this note refers. He went to reside in a place, where was a very popular preacher,—very devout, earnest, and eloquent, and producing always, when he preached, a good deal of emotion and excitement among the people. He was greatly delighted with it. He looked forward to the Sabbath with pleasure, and back upon it with pleasure; and thought himself in the fairest way possible for religious improvement. But he soon found to his grief and astonishment, that his Sabbath excitements were eating up his religion. As the week advanced, he regularly grew cold and indifferent; but he was the less concerned, because he knew that, on the Sabbath, he should be aroused again. He felt that it was not well with him, but he relied on his favourite preacher to amend all, and to restore his affections to the proper state. In short, his religion gradually stood less in the principles of it, and more in the preaching of it,— less in the deeds of his life, and more in the words of his minister. And on a serious review, at the end of a year, he was convinced that the worst thing that had happened to him in religion, was the best preaching he had ever heard. He found, what men are so slow to learn, that in the maintenance of an earnest piety, every man must chiefly rely on himself, and on the grace of God.

was not just as much and as truly ours. Now, the difficulty is, that instead of this feeling of common participation between the preacher and his hearers, he is regarded as fulfilling a task; as executing a commission; as delivering a message, rather than as declaring the sense and consent of our common interests and wants. There is a feeling as if he spoke because he must speak,—as if he spoke by an artificial arrangement, rather than from a living conviction and impulse; and our minds acquire an artificial, rather than an earnest, habit of listening.

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It must be confessed, that preachers themselves have furnished but too much ground for these impressions. There has been dulness and formality in their ministrations; and eant, and a holy tone, and a preternatural air, as if they had come from another world to deliver the oracle, and the mandate, and the awful law, to this. There has been loftiness and loudness, a high and authoritative bearing, a magnifying of their office, in imitation of Paul, as they have falsely imagined. And they have talked of poor sinners with abundant compassion, or have sternly reiterated the address—' sinner! sinner!'-to the people, as if they themselves were not sinners. And they have claimed to be the ambassadors of Christ, which they are not, as none but the Apostles could be. And they have been given to saying, 'we have come with a message from the Lord,-a message from the Lord,' when they had better sometimes have said to the people, we have come to you with the message of your own infirmities, and wants, and fears, and sorrows. We have come to you, feeling the common lot of weakness and necessity, the lot that is appointed to us all. We have come to seek with you for strength, and virtue, and consolation. Surely, we speak to you no strange, foreign, mysterious, preternatural language. We speak to you the language of your own nature, the language of your necessities, and your griefs, and your desires. The voices that arise from the busy hum and stir of your daily cares and pursuits,-the voices that issue from the dwellings of trouble, and the habitations of joy, among you—these we desire to collect in our message; these shall be our preaching to you. They teach us to be humble, and patient, and cheerful, and thankful, and good, and kindly affectioned, and happy. And these, too, are the voices of God to us;