city, and to sit under his ministry, knew him as the plain and practical preacher of the gospel, whose dress, and domestic economy, and manners in the parlour and in the pulpit, were simple and unostentatious, and whose one object it was to win souls to Jesus Christ. “It is the duty of the Christian minister,” and I am quoting his own words, “to exert himself, as far as he is able, that what he says may be intelligible and plain; and that, from the manner in which he delivers it, it may be impressive.” {9} He endeavoured to stir up your minds also, _by the point and force with which he directed his appeals to your consciences and hearts_; so that he met you at every turn, he compassed your path at every step, he pursued you into every avenue, and it seemed impossible to escape from his close and searching admonitions. His object was, not to polish his style so as to gain your admiration and applause, (he had no taste for that), but to point every sentence till it became like a two-edged sword, quick and powerful, which pierced to the dividing asunder of soul and body, and discerned the very thoughts and intents of your hearts. He endeavoured also to stir up your minds, _by the earnestness and impressiveness of his manner_. Though he was with you during a longer time than Moses was with the Israelites in the wilderness, yet “his eye was not dim, nor was his natural force abated.” He retained even to old age, much of the vigour and vivacity of his youth; and those who have had the opportunity of comparing together the earlier and the later periods of his ministry, are of opinion that the sermons of the last few years were more earnestly and impressively delivered, even than those which preceded. He no doubt felt increasingly the value of the gospel, as a source of holiness and happiness on earth, and as revealing and bestowing a life of eternal blessedness in heaven; and therefore, in proclaiming that gospel to you, he became increasingly earnest and fervent both in his feelings and in his manner. His heart was anointed with a holy unction which diffused its fragrance over all his feelings and his words, and his eyes often became “fountains of tears” when he spoke of the hopes which the gospel inspires, and when he told the enemies of the cross that their end was destruction. And when, on such occasions, his voice broke, (and it sometimes did with tremulous impressiveness,) a burst of holy eloquence was sure to follow, which thrilled, and subdued, and overwhelmed. But we must not omit to notice, that he endeavoured to stir up your minds, _by the simplicity and piety of his life_. And without this, his talents, his literature, and his eloquence, would have been of but little avail, for all his public labours would have been neutralized by his practical inconsistencies. But we all knew him and venerated him as a man of God. The doctrines which he preached in the pulpit were