mon preaching more than in any of his
life's other activities. It is not implied that he will always
approach his task without fear, or even without shrinking, or, at
times, a passing desire to shun the duty devolving upon him. There may
be hours when, as he truly realises the purpose of his work, a sense of
his responsibility will so surge through his spirit as almost to unman
him. Other times, again, may come, when even "nerves" may get the
better of him, for every preacher worth the name has "nerves," and
should thank God for them. There may be days in which, seeing as in a
vision something of the mighty issues dependent upon his faithfulness,
he will tremble lest he be, indeed, one of those fools who "rush in
where angels fear to tread." All these experiences may be--most likely
will be--his, and yet he will find in the exercise of his art, both in
preparation and performance such a pleasure, and such a sense of mental
exaltation, as nothing else can bring. A born artist loves to paint
for painting's sake; to such an one there is something almost
sacramental in the very mixing of the colours. The true sculptor hears
music in the tapping of the mallet upon the chisel as he shapes the
marble into grace and beauty. There is no drudgery in the calling that
is yours by ordination of nature, by right of true heartfelt affection.
The kind of preacher we mean would rather talk about preaching than
about any other subject, providing he meet with one like-minded with
himself. He is happy to the glowing point when he can discuss with
some sharer of the call the latest homiletic creation of his mind or of
the mind of his friend. When his creation comes to the stage of
delivery he is conscious of that perfect pleasantness which is always
felt by a man when engaged in the labour which, of all others, he loves
best to perform. "I'd rather preach than be King of England," he will
tell you sometimes; and though, on occasion, he may have his "hard
times," a form of discipline sent upon him for his soul's good, he will
generally be found within a single circling of the Sun as eager as ever
to return to the place of his humiliation. Many a preacher who has
felt, on Sunday evening, that the only thing left for him to do was
immediately to send in his resignation to the proper quarter, has,
before Monday evening, known what it was to hunger again for the
Sabbath's sweet return. A strange thing is this preaching madness when
i