grounded on the word hell in the text, which in this case means the state of the dead. But with whatever propriety these several topics might be embraced in an expository lecture; a sermon on the resurrection of Christ would evidently be ruined by a formal, preparatory discussion of St. Peter's inspiration, and of a gross superstition, founded on a verbal mistake. The former should be taken for granted; and the latter, noticed in the briefest manner possible, while explaining the terms of the text.

There is another way in which the above principle is violated. The preacher, from an apprehension of falling short in matter, or from a false notion that his hearers will be edified, in proportion to the range of topics in each sermon, contrives to bring before them every sabbath, the whole system of religion. Every subject which has any affinity to the one in hand, comes in for its share of attention. Thus in considering the question of Pilate, "What is truth?" the hearers are gravely told that all truths have a common foundation, and a common connection one with another; and hence it comes fairly within the compass of the sermon, to speak of every thing which is true. In regard to the violation of unity by such a heterogeneous assemblage of matter, the preacher might often receive admonition, by attempting to fix on a brief title to his discourse; or even by searching for a psalm or hymn, appropriate to his subject.

In the second place, unity requires that a sermon should be ONE IN DESIGN.

The wise preacher will propose to himself some chief effect which he hopes to produce, by every discourse. This is a distinct thing from the subject of discourse ; just as the same end in other cases, may be sought by various means. Thus, if you would make sinners feel

their guilt, your direct subject may be either their obligations or their transgressions. If you would console a good man in affliction, your subject may be the perfection of God's providence, or the benefit of afflictions. If you would inculcate the obligation of children to love their parents, you may do this by preaching on filial affection, as a direct subject, or on the character of Joseph, as an indirect one. The good to be accomplished by a sermon, whatever is its subject, must depend very much on its fitness to leave on the hearers' minds some specific and predominant impression. Whether it bears upon insensibility, or error, or vice; whether it is designed to alarm the carelesss sinner, or to strengthen the wavering Christian, its bearing should be distinctly seen and felt. This requires not only that the sermon should have a definite subject and a definite design, but that these should be constantly in the preacher's eye. It is a favourite method with me,' said Cecil, to reduce the text to some point of doctrine. On that topic I enlarge, and then apply it. I like to ask myself, • What are you doing?-What is your aim?'

This leads me to remark,

In the third place, that unity requires a sermon to be

ONE IN THE ADJUSTMENT OF ITS PARTS TO THE

PRINCIPAL END, AND TO EACH OTHER. And here I lay it down as an elementary principle of great importance, that a discourse should be adapted to produce an effect as a WHOLE. This principle was substantially stated above, but is here varied in form for the sake of a more extended illustration. It is not enough that there is a succession of good words, or of striking sentences, or of brilliant paragraphs, or even of weighty detached thoughts. The choice and arrangement of matter should be such as to produce a growing interest in the auditors,

and to leave a strong impression of the subject on their minds. This supposes the preacher, before writing, to have examined well the materials of which the sermon is to consist, and to have settled with himself the order in which these are to be disposed, to the best advantage.

There is no work of art in which this principle of unity is not essential to perfection. The architect studies the purpose, for which a building is intended, while he adjusts its parts in his whole plan. He will employ what is called the prophetic eye of taste. He will anticipate just what the principal edifice, and the subordinate buildings will be when finished. It is not a fine column, or window, or gateway, that makes a beautiful seat, but the combined effect of symmetry and fitness, which strikes the eye, in the structure and its appendages, when viewed as a whole.

So with the landscape gardener. Give him a rude spot to transform into a beautiful garden; and he sees by anticipation, how each part of the grounds must be shaped, where each avenue must pass, and each tree and shrub must stand, when the plan is completed; and 'when he plants a seedling, he already sits under its shade.' So the historic painter, if he would represent a shipwreck, must not be satisfied to show you a broken mast or cable. Nor yet must he show you the mariners clinging to a tempest beaten ship, while other ships in the same prospect are becalmed. The heavens must frown with blackness, and the ocean swell in angry surges, and spread before you a consistent scene of terrific sublimity.

་

So the portrait painter must not exhaust his skill on a single feature, but must exhibit the united expression of all the features in the human face divine.

''Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call;

But the joint force and full result of all.'

So the epic or dramatic poet, must not set before you an incongruous succession of characters or incidents, violating all probability and consistency. He must show you a train of things, growing in interest, and leading on to some common result. Shakspeare, though he has been called the stumbling block of critics, though he is frequently inelegant, obscure, and ungrammatical in style ; and though he pays little regard sometimes to what are called the unities of time and place,-shews you men and things as they are. He not only pleases you with here and there a speech, but arrests your attention to the course of events; fills you with a restless eagerness to keep up with his incidents; and leaves you at last under some strong impression, that abides with you. Of this great dramatic poet Johnson says, He who tries to recommend him by select quotations, will succeed like the pedant in Hierocles, who, when he offered his house for sale, carried a brick in his pocket as a specimen.' When you have read Julius Cæsar, or Hamlet, you may be unable to repeat a single line, but you never can forget the subject.

I have extended these illustrations, to show that preaching is not exempt from the common laws which apply to all other things, where good sense and taste are to be exercised. A sermon should have unity of plan. The matter, length, and order of its parts should be so adjusted, as to preclude anticipation, repetition, and collision. Good judgment will not so much inquire, whether a thought is important, as whether it belongs to the subject in hand, and in what place it may be introduced, so as most to increase the general effect. That is not useful preaching, which is a mere collection of good

remarks, without the scope, connexion and impression, which belong to a regular discourse. Nor is that a profitable sermon, which now and then startles the hearers with a vivid flash of thought, or makes them remember a few eccentric phrases;-but that which fixes their eye on a single subject; which holds their attention steadily to that subject; which gives them as they go on a clearer perception and a deeper feeling of that subject; and finally compels them to remember that subject, though they cannot repeat one expression uttered by the preacher.

To accomplish this end, I only add, fourthly, there must be UNITY OF ILLUSTRATION. No mixing of topics in argument, or of incongruous images should be allowed to impair the object of a discourse.

'Servetur ad imum,

Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet.'

Of a distinguished living preacher, it is remarked by a professed critic, that, 'exuberant as are his resources, little or nothing is introduced by him, without a distinct reference to his main design. Every additional figure or idea, illustrative of his chief topic, serves for the most part to convey it more distinctly to the mind; and though Pelion is sometimes heaped upon Ossa, in his gigantie sport, we do not view it as an useless exertion, when he appears himself to be reaching heaven by the process, and showing us a path to the same elevation.'

Such is that unity which is worthy to be sought in the pulpit. It is not a sterile sameness; but it requires that a sermon should be one in subject, one in design, one in the adaptation of its parts to each other, and to the common effect, and one in illustration. Of course, unity