His special vocation was that of the preacher rather than of the author. The pulpit was the throne of his peculiar and pre-eminent power. Other men might equal or surpass him elsewhere, but _there_ he was supreme. Different excellences might come out in himself on different occasions; but in the pulpit all his abilities were conspicuous, and there they were always at their best. It was the glass which focussed all his powers into a point, and quickened their exercise into a burning intensity which kindled everything it touched. It brightened his intellect, enlivened his imagination, clarified his judgment, inflamed his courage, and gave fiery energy to his utterance. He was never elsewhere so great in any one of these particulars, as he was, when in the pulpit, in them all; for there, over and above the "_præfervidum ingenium_" which he had in common with so many of his countrymen, and the glow of animation which fills the soul of the orator when he looks upon an audience, he had the feeling that he was called of God to be faithful, and that made him almost like another Paul. Behind him was the cross of his Lord; before him was the throne at which he was to be accountable, and between these two he stood "watching for souls as one that must give account." He began his discourse most commonly with Biblical exposition, and spent a little time in calmly, clearly, and fully explaining the meaning of the passage on which he was engaged. In this {205} portion of his sermon, if we may judge from the published tracts which were apparently founded on pulpit utterances, he was clear, simple, convincing; not making a parade of learning, yet bringing out withal the true significance of the sacred text. Then having cleared away all doubt from that, he made it the foundation of a battery, whereon he erected a swivel gun, and with that he swept the whole horizon, firing at every evil which came within his view. Nor were the shots mere random things. They were deliberately aimed, and they commonly did most effective work. No matter who might be the evil-doer, the exposure was sure to be made, and the expostulation, usually ending in denunciation, unless the sinner should repent, was sure to follow. Whatever he might do elsewhere, he could neither shut his eyes nor keep back his utterance when he was, as he called it, "in public place." He was "set as a watchman" to the people of Scotland, and he would watch with wakeful vigilance, and give honest warning of everything which he saw wrong; for the wrong with him was always fraught with danger, and the wrongness was enough to evoke his protest. He used no soft words. He was no maker of polite phrases. He spoke in order to be understood, and therefore he "called a fig a fig, and a spade a spade." He went into the pulpit not because he had to say something, but because there was something in him which was compelling itself to be said. He spoke because he "could not but" speak.