THE PREACHER'S STUDY
bringing the hearer to the point of saying, "This means me"; never leaving him facing Christ and asking, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" They are like the Abana river, making a brave show for part of its course, but losing itself eventually and dying out and vanishing in the waste. See to it that your sermon shall not hirple vaguely to a lame, ineffectual close. Why should the Word of the Lord peter out in the desert sands? Clinch your message as decisively as you can, and do not hesitate to use the note of direct personal appeal.
In thus urging upon you the crucial importance of your final paragraphs and sentences, I am not suggesting the use of elaborate perorations. Far from it. The day of the florid, self-conscious climax is past. People are rightly suspicious of, and tend to grow restive under, a sermon culminating in a blaze of literary fireworks, like a sonata with a noisy coda. Diminuendo, not crescendo, ought to be the rule as you draw near the end. Much better conclude quietly and even abruptly than indulge in any declamatory pyrotechnics. If you wish to see how powerful and effective the abrupt close can be, read some of Reinhold Niebuhr's sermons. You will never weaken the force of your final appeal by keeping it restrained. In nine cases out of ten, quiet notes are better there than crashing chords. No doubt there are exceptions. One occasion in St. George's, Edinburgh, was long spoken of with bated breath by those who were present. It was a Communion Sunday, and Dr. Alexander Whyte had chosen his text from the
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