first
last, and the last first; you have got the cart before the horse."
"Ne'er moind," said Abe, "I'll back her up th' hill. Good-morning,
sir." "Cart before the horse" was no insuperable difficulty with Abe;
he knew how to manage his own pony, and must drive in his own way; he
was not very particular which came first so long as he could "mak' her
goa." He took what suited his mind best, and paid very little
attention to the rules of sermonizing; he was in this respect a law
unto himself, and the favour with which his humble ministrations were
received was a sufficient excuse for him.

We have heard a sermon described as a thing having three or more heads;
it is said to be sometimes altogether void of body or matter of any
sort; at other times it appears as a skeleton, without form or
comeliness, having only the barest outline. Perhaps this in some
measure explains why some people so seldom attend our places of
worship; they fear to come _within the reach_ of a sermon, and
therefore stay away,--they have heard of some persons that have been
_actually struck_ with a sermon, and of others _being fastened to their
seats_ by it; how dreadful! Ah, anything will do for an excuse when
people don't want to go to the Lord's house; "a poor excuse is said to
be better than none at all," but in this case we doubt the wisdom of
that saying.

Abe Lockwood was not very particular about the number of heads in his
sermons, or whether they had any heads at all; his care was that the
sermon should have some soul in it, wherefrom mainly resulted his power
in the pulpit.

There is sometimes very great danger of sermonizing all the force out
of a discourse; making it so very proper that it serves more as an
ornament than a thing of practical use; it appears more a work of _art_
than a work of _heart_. Abe didn't profess to understand the rules of
sermonizing, nor did he make any particular effort in that direction;
as may be supposed, therefore, he was often disconnected and irregular,
but he knew nothing about it, and nobody else cared; people liked him
as he was. His sentences were not like beautiful stones turned and
polished by the hand of a lapidary, but they were rough lumps, in all
shapes, broken from the great rock of Gospel truth, having their sharp
points and jagged edges on them; the consequence being that when slung
from the hand of this humble champion they left a mark wherever they
struck. He didn't care for that