very subject. A lady asked him, coming out of church, whether it were not a very moving discourse? "Yes," says he, "I was extremely sorry, for the man is my friend."
If in company you offer something for a jest, and nobody seconds you in your own laughter, or seems to relish what you said, you may condemn their taste, if you please, and appeal to better judgments; but in the mean time, it must be agreed, you make a very indifferent figure: and it is, at least, equally ridiculous to be disappointed in endeavouring to make other folks grieve, as to make them laugh.
A plain convincing reason may possibly operate upon the mind, both of a learned and ignorant hearer, as long as they live, and will edify a thousand times more than the art of wetting the handkerchiefs of a whole congregation, if you were sure to attain it.
If your arguments be strong, in God's name offer them in as moving a manner as the nature of the subject will properly admit, wherein reason and good advice will be your safest guides; but beware of letting the pathetick part swallow up the rational: for I suppose philosophers have long agreed, that passion should never prevail over reason.
As I take it, the two principal branches of preaching are, first to tell the people what is their duty, and then to convince them that it is so. The topicks for both these, we know, are brought from Scripture and reason. Upon the former, I wish it were often practised to instruct the hearers in the limits, extent, and compass of every duty; which requires a good deal of skill and judgment: the
