By F. M. Holmes.

First let us look at Dr. Joseph Parker. His sermons are constantly attended by ministers of all denominations, including clergymen of the Church of England; and no stronger testimony, we take it, could be given to a man's extraordinary preaching power than that year after year he continually attracts other preachers.

Dr. Parker, it is almost needless to explain, is the eminent Congregational minister of the City Temple in London, and he occupies the unique position of having maintained for thirty years a noonday service every Thursday in addition to his usual Sunday services. To this Thursday service come persons from the ends of the earth, and ministers and laymen of various religious persuasions. On one occasion the sittings of a conference belonging to one of the minor Methodist bodies seemed seriously imperilled because so many of the delegates desired to go and hear Dr. Parker.

What is the secret of his widely attractive power? The answer comes in a word—he is intensely dramatic. We do not mean theatrical. He chooses a clear message to deliver, and that message—that paramount thought—is driven home to his hearers in a manner that forces itself upon every mind, no matter how reluctant. He uses short, pithy sentences, and heightens and emphasises their effect by suitable modulations of voice, by deliberate or rapid utterance as the words may require, and by vigorous and appropriate gesture. He speaks only the very pith and point of what he has to say, and then says it in the clearest and most suitably effective manner that he can possibly command. It is the thing itself we hear, rather than talk or argument all round and about it.

Thus, on one occasion, his theme was found in the text, "Jesus in the midst." "Where is the midst?" he asked in a clear and striking, sonorous voice that commanded attention at once. These were his opening words, and after a pause he proceeded in the same manner and in similar short, striking sentences to point to different ideas of "the midst," and to declare that Christ was, or should be, in the midst of the literature, science, philosophy, and business of the day. Unless ministers preached Christ, said he, they had better be silent.

There is nothing new in this, you will say. No doubt Dr. Parker would tell you that he does not wish to preach anything new; but no one can watch him critically without concluding that he constantly studies not only what he shall say, but how he shall say it in the most striking and effective manner.

As a dramatic preacher, we might also instance the Rev. J. H. Jowett, who has succeeded the late Dr. Dale at Carr's Lane Congregational Church, Birmingham. To his Oxford scholarship Mr. Jowett has united an assiduous cultivation of a fine voice and vigorous yet graceful and suitable gesture, which render him a most striking and fascinating preacher.

But turning now to other styles, if Dr. Parker is one of the most dramatic, Dr. Boyd Carpenter, the learned Bishop of Ripon, is one of the most eloquent of preachers. He is also one of the most rapid. He seems so fully charged with his subject that the words pour from his lips like a torrent; his body turns first to one side and then to the other, and anon leans forward in front, as though propelled by the energy of the thought within. His hand is often held up before him with the index finger pointing, as though to lead his audience on to the next thought, and to prevent their interest or attention from flagging. But, rapid and fluent as he is, it must not be thought that he is superficial; on the contrary, there is every evidence that the discourse is well thought out, and based on a solid framework of reason, while the language is eloquent and rhetorical. And it is, as it were, to mark the network of logical deduction within the words that the index finger is brought so fully into play. We judge that his voice is naturally somewhat thin and poor, but by careful use and perhaps assiduous cultivation, and by the most beautifully clear articulation, Dr. Boyd Carpenter can make himself heard in St. Paul's with what appears to be perfect ease. There is no straining of the voice and no shouting; but in a quiet though forcible manner he sends his voice round the huge building. Further, it has been pointed out to me that he will not commence his discourse until the congregation have settled themselves down into absolute quietness, and all the rustling of dresses, and coughing, and fidgeting are stilled. Under these circumstances his voice would, of course, carry far better in a large church.

Somewhat similar in manner is Canon Barker, of Marylebone, who, in the energetic expression of the thought with which he seems surcharged, bends forward sometimes so deeply towards the congregation as to give, the impression that he is about to dive out of the pulpit. But his style is that of the special pleader, the advocate and the debater; it is as though he desires to argue out everything to its logical conclusion, rather than to sway or move his audience by eloquence and emotional appeals.

Dean Lefroy of Norwich is also a debater; perhaps, a more keen debater than Canon Barker, and he is also a rhetorician. He delights to preach a strongly evangelical "Gospel" sermon, and to embellish it with rhetoric and declaim it with passionate earnestness. It is evident he thoroughly believes in his theme, he seeks to impress it on his audience by vigorous, earnest, passionate utterance, in which his energetic gestures are often of the most decided character. A curious characteristic of his preaching has been related to me by a friend. "You cannot listen to Lefroy for five minutes," said he, "without violently taking sides either for or against him. You are either intensely in favour of him or find yourself becoming almost vehemently opposed"—a testimony, we take it that the Dean is a decided, downright, assertive and aggressive preacher rather than persuasive and emotional. He has instituted a Nave service at Norwich Cathedral, at which he often preaches himself, and attracts enormous congregations.

Still continuing to glance at those whom we may call rapid and fluent preachers, Prebendary Webb-Peploe comes to mind. He is not so energetic as some others, but the rapidity of his utterance, the fluency of his expression, and his great command of language, would rival that of almost any speaker. He and many others would probably utter three times as many words in a given time as Dr. Parker or Archdeacon Sinclair.

The latter is slow, deliberate, and dignified in his utterances, rarely using gesture and affecting a grave and somewhat sonorous voice; but the Archdeacon's sermons are always most carefully prepared, and indicate considerable study and research.

Among the grave and sedate preachers we might also place Dr. John Watson ("Ian Maclaren"), of Sefton Park Presbyterian Church, Liverpool; his sermons are full of thought, and, as might be expected, exhibit an excellent literary finish.

Now, if we take Archdeacon Sinclair and Dr. John Watson as examples of more deliberate and sedate preachers, we may regard the Rev. John McNeil, the well-known Presbyterian minister, as an instance of the colloquial preacher.

Not that his voice is low-pitched, as used in conversation. Mr. McNeil has done what few preachers could physically undertake: he has preached twice a day for a fortnight in the Albert Hall at Kensington, the largest hall in London, and capable of holding about ten thousand persons; and he has repeatedly filled the huge Agricultural Hall at Islington, numbers being turned away from lack of room. His voice, indeed, seems capable of filling the largest hall without effort. But his style is easy, unaffected, conversational, though sometimes, with both arms outstretched, he bursts forth into loud and impassioned appeals. There is no doubt a large section of the public who like this easy and colloquial style, especially if it come quite naturally to the speaker.

And now another celebrated figure rises on the scene, the eminent Baptist minister, Dr. McLaren of Manchester. Refined, scholarly, brimming over with knowledge, and a master of beautiful illustration, there is no doubt that he takes rank as one of the very greatest preachers of the day. Like other great speakers, he has evidently studied the art of preaching.

At a meeting at the Holborn Restaurant to celebrate his ministerial jubilee in April, 1896, he said he had determined, at the outset of his career, to concentrate his mind on the work of the ministry and not fritter away his energies over many minor engagements. He had always endeavoured to make his ministry one of Gospel exposition; he had preached Christ because he believed that men needed redemption, and he had preached without doubts and hesitations. It was Thomas Binney who had taught him how to preach.

Undoubtedly Dr. McLaren has succeeded in his aim as an expositor of the Scriptures, for that is regarded as one of his chief characteristics. A favourite gesture of Dr. McLaren's—at all events in his earlier days—was to squeeze up a handkerchief, no doubt quite unconsciously, in his right hand by the nervous energy he was putting forth in his discourse, and then suddenly his hand would dart out to mark some emphatic passage as though he were about to throw the handkerchief at the congregation; but needless to add the handkerchief was never thrown.

Like Dr. McLaren, Dr. Whyte, of Free St. George's, Edinburgh, has a great command of beautiful and striking illustrations. "He is the most wonderful preacher in Scotland," declared an enthusiastic Scot to me on one occasion. "Mr. Gladstone used often to hear him, and Lord Rosebery does now." Dr. Whyte makes great use of the imagination in his discourses and employs frequent gestures, but graceful, emphatic and always to suit the action to the word and the word to the action. "One illustration," said a gentleman, "I remember some time ago. Dr. Whyte was preaching about tribulation, and he showed that the word came from tribulum, which is a Latin name for a roller or sledge for thrashing out corn, and in the same way tribulation sifted men as wheat." How like a platitude this may sound when summarised down to a line; but the point is that the idea of the beneficial purpose of tribulation had been so firmly fixed in the hearer's mind that he remembered it, and perchance in some dark hour it had been to him a "cup of strength in some great agony." Is not that, after all, one of the great aims and one of the great tests of good speaking—to fix some idea, some truth firmly in the hearer's mind so that it is never forgotten?

As a robust, manly preacher few, if any, we suspect, can surpass Dean Hole of Rochester. He has a tall, commanding presence—he is over six feet high—a bright, animated countenance, and a most genial manner. When some years ago he held the living of Caunton, Notts, he used to journey periodically to Liverpool, where his midday addresses to commercial men were most successful and exercised great influence. He does not employ much gesture, but his fine voice, sparkling eye and manly, straightforward utterances, based on reason and logic, always command deep attention.

His appeal is rather to reason than to the emotions, and by way of contrast we may glance at Canon Wilberforce, who is fluent and fervent, and affords one of the best examples of the emotional preacher. It would seem as though he set himself to arouse and stir up all the feelings of his congregation and lead them into what he conceives to be the right channel. Often choosing most unusual texts, he can yet make direct and pointed appeals from the pulpit, touching the greatest hopes and deepest trusts of human nature, and yet can employ as illustrations the greatest events and the newest discoveries of the day. He uses but little gesture, in this respect being somewhat different from the eminent Wesleyan, the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes, who might also be classed as an emotional—we had almost said passionate—preacher. In fluency and fervour he is probably surpassed by none. Possessed of a remarkably clear, vibrating, and penetrating voice, which seems as though it could thrill through any building, however large, there is no chance of anyone dozing when he is in the pulpit. When pleading some cause or denouncing some wrong, his feelings seem to get the better of him, and he slashes away with his voice in a perfect hurricane of verbal blows.

Quite as emotional and quite as fluent is Dr. Clifford of Westbourne Park Baptist Church. His command of language is extraordinary, and with a mind less clear and well-regulated this great fluency might prove a snare; but his discourses are always remarkably well-arranged, his "points" are clear, and his meanings driven home with remarkable emphasis. His congregations are immense, and his hearers are devoted to him. His gestures often follow his words, and one—probably quite unconscious—is, it must be confessed, not graceful, even if forcible: it is a drawing back of his arms, and then shooting them out both together as if appealing to the people. His voice is exceptionally clear, penetrating, and resonant; and in all very popular preachers much is due to the voice.

The Bishop of Stepney, who may be described as bearing all the characteristics of the highly cultured Oxford man, has in addition a deeply sympathetic musical voice. He does not use much gesture, but such as he does employ is well suited to the words, while his illustrations are often drawn from his social and religious work in the East End. He used frequently to preach in Victoria Park, where he has readily acknowledged his best supporters were Nonconformists.

Another eminent preacher whom we may also describe as exhibiting all the characteristics of Oxford culture is Dr. Horton of Lyndhurst Road Congregational Church, Hampstead. Possessed, like the Bishop of Stepney, of a remarkably sympathetic voice, he modulates and varies it to suit the subject and the words, and his gesture, never redundant, has lately been reduced almost to extinction. At the sermon which he preached before the Congregational Union at its autumnal assembly at Birmingham in 1897, his style was almost severely quiet, but the effect of his thrilling voice and sometimes awesome whispered tones, his polished literary language, and his intense earnestness—as he declared that the ideal Christian must be in constant touch with God, and yet in constant touch with men—was very great, and appealed both to reason and emotion. Indeed, both of these find their place in his sermons. Dr. Horton has mastered the art of always being interesting, no matter what his theme; and it would seem as though in his discourses he makes an effort to really interest and to reach all sorts and conditions of men.

Another Congregational minister who exhibits much of the Oxford manner is the Rev. Silvester Horne, of Kensington; but, in addition, he seems possessed of a fiery zeal and fervent enthusiasm that will, it is feared, wear him out physically before his day is fully spent, unless he carefully husbands his nervous energy. Already, although a young man, he has had to take rest for a whole year because of ill-health. That inner fire, that mental energy, that disciplined enthusiasm, which light up his face so brilliantly and animate his suitable and graceful gesture, are far too precious a possession to be quenched too quickly; but there are few or none of the younger preachers of the day who have promise of a more brilliant future.

And now a word in conclusion for one who is perhaps the greatest philosophical preacher of the time—Dr. Fairbairn of Mansfield College at Oxford. His memory is marvellous, his power of choice and accurate verbal expression is wonderful; he can speak for hours without a note, and though sometimes a sentence should appear involved and complicated, it will finish admirably, and, if read in a verbatim report afterwards, will have all the finish of a literary production wrought out in the quiet of the study. He uses but little gesture, an occasional opening out of hands and arms, as though to present and lay before the audience the thought which he is uttering, seems nearly all. In fact, it would appear that he is so absorbed in the abstract thought, the argument, the philosophy he is working out before you, that he thinks nothing of the manner in which he utters it.

We do not pretend to have exhausted the list of famous preachers, or even to have glanced at all the different types; but these will be sufficient to indicate the variety that prevails, and to show that there is an art of preaching which, like other arts, needs to be assiduously cultivated, and well repays those who intelligently do so.