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Contributions.
THE LATE BEV. ALLEN” TURNER.
Tke impression produced on the mind by
persons or events depend, it is commonly
supposed, a good deal on the state of mind
attho time. At the time I first saw Rev.
Allen Turner, more than thirty years ago, I
cannot say my mind was in the best state
to appreciate such a man. Though not de
void of serious religious impressions (for
thus I had never been in all my recollection)
I was quite unprepared for such demonstra-*
tion of the spiritual life, as I then, for the
first time, witnessed at a Methodist camp
meeting. I had just returned from a pleas
ure trip to the mountains with a gay party,
when one, whose guest I was at the time,
proposed, as if to vary the excitement, that wo
should attend a neighboring camp meeting;
on arriving there, I was struck with the ru
ral picturesqueness of the scene, with the
social good humor, and genial kindness, and
hospitality which prevailed. Then, as night
approached, when the brilliant camp fires
were lighted, how glowed the camp ground,
as “ with living sapphires,’’ seeming to rival
the begemmed vault above, and the vesper
hymning from the groups around each tent
door, appearing to challenge even the music
of the spheres. But the night drew on, and
with trumpet tone, we were called to wor
ship, not under the roof of a temple made with
hands, but beneath the glowing, gorgeous
canopy of God’s temple of the universe.
For the first time at a camp meeting, the
circumstances by which I was surrounded
were indeed novel and exciting. I did in
deed realize there was worship not confined
to buildings of wood or stone; a priesthood
with no professional phylacteries or sacer
dotal appendages to distinguish it. More
than ever did 1 think this, when, for the
first time I witnessed the power of the gospe
by the ministry of Allen Turner.
He was at that time in, delicate health,
thin, pale and feeble; he had been on a la
borious tour of camp meetings for months;
but worn out and exhausted, apparently as
he was, it was wonderful, his supernatural
energy and strength. All night long was
his voice heard proclaiming his Lord’s mes
sage to dying sinners; all night long ex
horting them to be saved through his grace;
no time for sleep, or slumber, or inglorious
ease had he. He was doing a great work
for his Lord and “could not come down from
t.”
My solemnity perhaps, attracted his at
tention, for after one of the regular services,
personally, he addressed himself to me, and
never, never did I forget his words. Though
not instrumental in deciding me tp the
choice I subsequently made, of castinginmy
lot with his people, they were, in moving
me near than I had ever been to the Cross
of Christ.
The next time I saw Mr. Turner was
at the Conference in Columbia,S. C. in 1820,
when I became a member of the Methodist
Episcopal Church.
Soon after leaving the Conference, he
wrote me a letter, from which I extract the
following as characteristic of the man, and
as calculated to do good, and thus continue
his ministry upon earth :
“ When I call to mind the time and cir
•cumstances of our first interview, I can but
adore the riches of redeeming mercy to poor
thoughtless sinners. Ah! little did you
think,my child,when you came to camp meet
ing, that you would be then given to see your
self a wretched, undone sinner, through
the influence of such ministrations, but how
good was God to pursue you with the cry
of a Kedeemer’s blood even when you tried
to run away from him ! Let a rehearsal of
the subject awake your heart anew, and
more lively and fervent strains of humility,
thanksgiving and praise awake. Go to the
throne of grace, and anew remember the
Lord that bought you, and the Holy one of
Israel that hath redeemed you. You have
just begun the Christian warfare, and have
need of much patience, meekness, hum
bleness of mind, forbearing and forgiving.
Perhaps Satan has not yet told you that
you are a hypocrite—a vile deceiver, and
deceived. But if he has not, be sure that
in all likelihood, he will; and he will help
to spiritual pride, evil surmises, hard
thoughtsand many other unexpected things.
The only way is to lie at the feet of Jesus,
and then you are safe.”
llow much good this faithful servant of
God accomplished, God himself only knows;
and this good he wrought not by superior
ability in himself, but by his power with
God. Armed with this, he was a flaming
minister of the new testament. He had
seals innumerable to his apostleship, and
he has now in heaven countless stars in his
crown of rejoicing.
He was one of “ the early Methodist
preachers.’’ I thank God for the privilege
of having known some of these heroic men.
The gospel that he preached made the way
to heaven bo “ primrose path/’ but the
strait and narrow way of the Bible, that few
are disposed But he did not bind
burdens on other’s shoulders, which he was
not able or willing to bear himself; no cross
was too heavy for him, no path of duty too
rugged ; hia song was :
“Give joy or grief, gi Tfi et3e or
Take health or friends away
But let me find them all again ’
In that eternal day.”
One more consecrated, more set apart I
never knew ; prayer was all his business all
his pleasure praise. May he have left
his patience, faith, and zeal as a heritage
for the church, for which he was in labors
most abundant! May his mfntle of self
abnegation, of entire devotedness to Christ
and his cause, of unfailing zeal in the work
ol the Lord, of unfaltering faith in the word
of God, of unwavering hope in his promises
fall upon his successors in the ministry, to
the success of their great work, and to the
joy and rejoicing of their souls forever!
M. M.
Columbia, S. C., Dec. 1866. *
Extemporaneous Preaching.
To a preaeher of the gospel, the faculty
of ready, easy, extemporaneous utterance, is
one of the highest importance. Extempo
raneous speech stands opposed to reading,
whether the attention is strictly or only
partially confined to the manuscript. It is
equally opposed to the recitatioa of a memo
rized address, where no manuscript makes its
appearance. Extemporaneous speaking js
the delivery of one’s thoughts at the mo
ment of utterance, without any foregoing
arrangement of the phrases. The form of
the address is improvised, i. e , is suggested
at the time and under the circumstances of
the delivery. But while this is so, it is
equally evident that the substance and mat
ter of the discourse must have been in the
mind previously. An empty mind can give
forth nothing. A mind imperfectly inform
ed on any subject can never impart full
instruction on that subject, no matter what
fluency may mark the utterance of the
words which pretend to clothe the ideas.
Extemporaneous speaking, then, presup
poses several things. It presupposes, first,
a fund of ideas accumulated as the result of
educational culture in general, and of read
ing, reflection, and study, directed particu
larly to the class of subjects on which one
is to speak extemporaneously. The mind’s
mastery of any field of knowledge is not
complete, when merely a mass of facts has
been accumulated. These must be grouped,
generalized, classified—must be subjected
to their controlling law, and by this law be
bound into an orderly system. The discov
ery and application of the determining prin
ciple to the elements, is science. Then the
mind comprehends the subject, melts down
in its own crucible what has been read,
heard, observed ; and is ready to re-issue the
mental coinage, fresh and sharply marked
from its own mint.
Practice in thinking is another thing pre
supposed. To be able to command the at
tention, and to treat the subject with force
of thought, in an orderly method, without
confusion, even where we are masters of the
general subject by foregoing reflection, re
quires that the intellect should have been
subjected to discipline and that practice
should have made it familiar with its tools.
The itinerant system of the Methodist
Church is admirably fitted to give this sort
of drill. Frequent preaching in the first
years of his ministry to different congrega
tions on his circuits, habituates the young
minister to the command of his thoughts,
to self-possession, and the fearless advanco
from one position of his subject to another.
Men of ordinary capacity, and even inferior
culture, by the mere dint of constant off
hand speaking, have acquired a fluency, a
readiness, an intellectual hardihood, so to
speak, which enable them to succeed in ex
temporaneous preaching, where others, vast
ly their superiors in native endowment and
cultivation, but without the practice, have
failed.
Another thing is presupposed : a certain
mastery of language. A classical education
greatly helps an extemporaneous speaker.
Certain master-pieces of composition, in lan
guages ancient and dead, are put into the
student’s hands. He is required to find out
etymological principles, laws of syntactical
arrangement, proprieties of expression. In
transfening the original into his own lan
guage, he becomes acquainted with the
strength, niceties, shades of meaning, which
make human speech one of the noblest of
the arts. As the musician becomes master
of the nicest distinctions in sounds, and
the artisan knows the fullest capabilities of
his tools and fingers, so he who has careful
ly and long studied the structure, combina
tions, and harmonies of language, and has
often caught the inspiration of the grand
classical models of style, must possess a
higher aptitude for clothing his ideas in the
most appropriate diction. In any event,
he who is to make an effective extemporane
ous speaker, must seek to acquire a fund of
language.
A fourth thing presupposed is the forma
tion of a plan of the contemplated discourse
—in writing, or in the thoughts. An em
ergency may arise in which the scheme of
thought must be drawn up on the spur of
the moment. The mind must boldly and
rapidly digest some general order of treat
ment —some salient points on which the
body of the discourse may b« organized.—
For the most part, however, there is time
enough given for the speaker or preacher to
digest in writing his plan. The whole force
of his subject may be thrown into one lead
ing proposition. Then this proposition may
take organic shape in several distinct but
related members. Thus he has an analysis
of his subject—a path of progress through
it. “Make your plan/’ says a master of elo
quence, “at the first heat, and follow your
inspiration to the end; after which let
things alone for a few days, or at least for
several hours. Then re-read attentively
what you have written, and give anew form
to your plan ; that is, re-write it from one
end to the other, leaving only what is essen
tial. Eliminate inexorably whatever is ac
cessory or superfluous, and trace, engrave
with care, the leading characteristics which
determine the configuration of the discourse,
and contain within their demarkations the
parts which are to compose it. Only take
pains to have the principal features well
marked, vividly brought out, and strongly
connected together, in order that the dis
course may be clear, and the links firmly
welded.”
This plan must be mastered, and held
distinct before the mind’s eye The line
trees of the surveyed plot must stand blazed
and. conspicuous in the intellectual vision.
A single glance gives the preacher posse*-
SOUTHERN CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE.
sion of the whole subject. His preparation
to preach, then, all but the earnest, pleading
prayer for the Spirit’s enlightening grace
and quickening aid, is complete, and the
mind is surrendered to the full inspiration
of the subject. The intellectual preparation
has grasped firmly the outline, merely.—
The filling up, the clothing of the skeletou
with flesh, rounding of the swelling
muscley the polished skin; above all, the
breath of life—these are the work of the
plastie energies of thought and emotion du
ring delivery. If the heart ia cold ; if no
quickening energies of the Spirit of grace
move upon the spiritual susceptibility; if no
gush and throb of emotion is realized, this
must affect the mind’s working. Woe to
the man who ascends the pulpit and feels
not the burden of the Lord upon him—has
no deep sense of his responsibility —knows
no vital warmth from the cross—no tender
pity for the souls of the wandering and lost!
Now this tenderness, and warmth, and
spiritual excitement, properly oalled unction,
is the highest element of oratorical power in
the pulpit. Extemporaneous address makes
room for it—excites it.
But let us look at some of the advantages
to be reckoned as on the side of extempo
raneous preaching. To begin : there is the
consideration just glanced at, but which
from its vitafl importance is worthy of ma
ture reflection—that, namely, which throws
the preacher upon the resources of divine
help. It is not in human nature to feel
practically, deeply, and thoroughly, the
same sort of need for the aid of the Holy
Spirit in preaching, when the manuscript
sermon is before one, which the preacher
must and does feel without one. Now, if
all the efficiency and saving results of preach
ing, at last are from God, who giveth the
increase,though Paul plant and Apollos water;
and if the preacher’s faith, earnestness, and
power, in the pulpit, are in proportion to
the measure of gracious influence which God
may vouchsafe to his pleading prayer ; then
it follows that extemporaneous preaching,
stirring up by its very exigencies the ele
ments of concern, prayer, faith, dependence
on God, must have a most solemn connec
tion with the great moral and spiritual effects
which all gospel-preaching aims at.
But there is a second class of consider
ations which show the advantages of extem
poraneous utterance. Independently of di
vine aid just referred to, the throwing of a
man fully upon his own resources, has, in
itself, a quickening, inspiring influence. —
The mind rallies all its energies. Its full
capacity of power is put in requisition ; and
its movement will likely be with correspond
ing power The susceptibility is quickened
The feeling is more intense. It gushes from
the heart with a more generous throb, when
excited by and originating in the precise
occasion which calls it forth. The expres
sion is more flexible and telling when it
arises spontaneously, and adapts itself to the
varying moods of an audience. Now it
moves along with colloquial ease; then it
strikes into a higher level, and anon it is
at the full thunder of impassioned eloquence.
To the mere sermon-reader, a great deal of
this flexibility is debarred. The reciter
from memory has ever before him the appre
hension that he may forget a word, or drop
a sentence, or break down utterly. Neither
of them can well afford to follow out a vein
of inspiring thought, which might be struck
perchance. Every experienced extempo
raneous speaker can remember how often
some of the best thoughts and brilliant il
lustrations have occurred to him in the heat
of excited preaching, and whilst facing a
situation which called out all his powers.
In addition, we must by no means over
look the enhanced effect produced on every
kind of audience by a well-done extempo
raneous effort. There is a wonderful ad
vantage in being able to look the audience
ia the sac advantage to the preach
er, an advantage to the listeners.—
His eye is radiant with soul, his face beams
with expression. It seems to them that he
is preaching from the center of his spirit;
and nothing short of that is eloquence
What do they care about the extreme
niceties of a style polished by labor of file
and lamp ! For written or printed matter
these niceties are very proper. But extem
poraneous address, confined to the proprie
ties of finished composition for the eye,
would be worse than thrown away. It has
canons of propriety of its own construction ;
an abandon , a fullness, a breadth of ampli*
fication, and even a pomp of language, which
would be entirely unbecoming in the pages
of the correct and elegant essayist, but
which thunder at the gates of the popular
heart, and carry by storm the convictions of
the understanding, and bring the trembling
sinner to the feet of Jesus. What would be
blemishes in one kind of style, are excellen
cies of high order in the other.
And just here is the difference between
eloquence and rhetoric. The latter is born of
art, and. shows art in its best attempts to
conceal it. The former is the child of genu
ine, earnest, simple emotion. I may admire
and praise the one—l feel the other.
Rhetoric glitters; eloquence smites with the
lightning, or warms with the genial sun
beam. The rhetorician preaches you a
beautiful discourse. LTpon the sermon of
the eloquent preacher rests a baptism of fire.
Soul alone can speak to soul. Vital energy
goes not with dead words ; and sueh are all
words when the cells of the heart are locked
up, and the depths of emotion are unstirred.
“Si vis me flere, dolendum est
Primum ipsi tibi.”
Extemporaneous address has been the
characteristic excellence of the Methodist
pulpit from the first. To this element it
owes much of its impressiveness and efficien
cy, and on grounds that have just been no
ticed. Let not this glory fade in the hands
of the rising ministry, who have enjoyed ad
vantages of culture superior to those at the
command of theirfathers. The accomplish
ed Dr. Rice, of the Presbyterian Church,
Professor of Christian Theology in Prince
Edward Seminary, Va., laid it down as one
of the leading objects of that school of the
prophets, (l to administer instruction such as
to Jorm powerful extemporaneous preachers,
and not xermon-writers." > Powerful extem
poraneous preaohing is precisely what the
Methodist Church cannot afford to give up.
W.
Jfamilg .^tabing.
From the Congregationalist.
“NOT LOST BUT GONE BEFORE.”
A PARABLE FROM MRS. GATTY.
The sun shone softly down upon the
Hillside Cemetery where Mr. Bell and his
children were standing amid the fresh clov
er, strcwiog a new-made grave with roses
and violets from their garden. It was only
a little mound and the weeping mother sat
at its head, mourning for her youngest born.
“ Papa,’’ said Arthur, “ where is heaven,
that my little brother has gone to ? It is
not up in the sky, for 1 ean’t see anything
there.” The little boy looked sorrowfully
up into the far-off blue, and then turned to
his father for a reply.
“ Heaven is not in sight, Arthur,” an
swered his father. “We cannot tell where
it is. It might be very near without our
being able to see it without our eyes.’’
“ But, papa,’’ said Helen, “ if heaven is
near, isn’t it strange that Willie cannot just
come back one minute to tell us he is hap-
PJ, . .
“Yes, dear,’’ said Mr. Bell, “it is all
strange to us. We can only trust our Father
in heaven about it, and wait till we -go to
Him If we love Him here, we shall be
where He is hereafter, and with dear little
Willie too, I think.’’
They lingered awhile beside the precious
grave, and then turned homeward through
the pleasant cemetery grounds. As they
passed a little pond fringed with flowering
shrubs, Mr. Bell said to his wife, “ Anna,
let us sit down beside this pond while I tell
the children that parable of Mrs. Gatty’s
which sister Alice read to us—‘Not lost but
gone before.’ ’’
“Oh yes,” said their mother, “ I should
like to have you.’’
Mr. Bell placed his wife upon a rustic
seat and sat down by her side, with Arthur
on his knee and Helen at his feet.
“ This parable,” said he, “ tries to teach
us how near heaven may be to earth, and
how the holy people may remember us and
know where we are, and yet not be able to
return, or speak to us. I will tell you all I
can remember of it.
“ Once there was a beautiful pond in the
centre of a wood. Trees and flowers were
growing about it, birds sang, and insects
hummed above it. Under the water, too,
there was a little world of beings. Fishes
and little creatures that live in water, filled
it full of busy life. Among them was the
grub of a Dragon Fly with a large family of
brothers and sisters.”
“What is a Dragon Flyinterrupted
Arthur.
“ It’s just a Darning Needle,” said Hel
en.
“ Yes, you children call it a Darning
Needle,” said their father, “ that beautiful
swift creature with a long glittering blue
and-green body and brilliant gauzy wings.
Now before he became a Dragon Fly, dart
ing through the air and flashing back the
aunshine, he was a dark, scaly grub and
lived down in the forest pond He and his
family were born there and knew no other
world. They spent their time in roving in
and out among the plants at the bottom of
the water, in search of food. But one day
this grub began to ta k among his mates
about the Frog. ‘Every little while,’ said
he, ‘the Frog goes to the side of the water
and disappears. What becomes* of him
when he leaves this world ? what can there
be beyond ?’ ”
“You idle fellow,” replied another grub,
“attend to. the world you are iu and leave
the ‘ beyond’ to those that are there !” So
said all his relations, and the curious grub
tried to forget his questionings. But he
could not do it, so one day when he heard
a heavy splash in*the water and saw a great
yell:w Frog swim down to the bottom, he
screwed up his courage to ask the Frog him
self.
“ ‘Honored Frog/ said he, approaching
that dignified personage as meekly as pos
sible, ‘ permit me to inquire what there is
beyond the world ?’
“ ‘What world do you mean ?’ said the
Frog, rolling his goggle eyes.
“ ‘This world, of course, our world,’ an
swered the grub.
“ ‘ This pond you mean/ remarked the
frog with a sneer.
“‘I mean the place we live in, I call it
the world/ cried the grub with spirit.
“‘ Do you indeed !’ rejoined the Frog.
‘Then what is the place you don’t live in ;
the ‘ beyond’ the world, eh V
“ ‘That is just what I want you to tell me/
replied the grub briskly.
“ ‘ Well then/ said Froggy, ‘it is dry
land.’
“ ‘Can one swim about there?’said the
grub.
“ ‘ Dry land is not water, little fellow/
chuckled the Frojr.’ ‘That is just what it
is not.’
“ ‘ But tell me what it is/ persisted the
grub.
“‘Well then, you troublesome creature/
cried the Frog, ‘ dry land is something like
the bottom of the pond, only it is not wet,
because there is no water.’
“‘Really, said the grub, ‘what is there
then ?’
“ ‘They call it air/ replied the Frog. ‘lt
is the nearest approach to nothing.’
‘‘Finding that he could not make the
grub understand, the good natured Frog
offered to take him on his back up to the
land, where the grub might see for himself.
The grub was delighted. He dropped him
self down upon the Frog’s back and clung
closely to him while he swam up to the
rushes at the water’s edge. But the mo
ment he emerged into the air, the grub fell
reeling back into the water, panting and
struggling for life. ‘Horrible !’ cried he, as
soon as he hud rallied a little; ‘there is
nothing but death beyond this world. The
Frog deceived me. He cannot go there at
any rate.’
“ Then the grub told his story to his
friends, and they talked a great deal about
the mystery, but could arrive at no explana
tion.
“ That evening the yellow Frog appeared
again at the bottom of the pond.
“ ‘ You here !’ cried the startled grub.
‘ You never left this world at all, I suppose !’
“ ‘Clumsy creature/ replied the Frog,
‘why did you not cling to my back ?’ When
I landed on the grass you were gone.’
“The grub related his death-like struggle,
and added, ‘Since there is nothing" but
(heath beyond this world,, all your stories
about going there must be false.’
“ ‘I forgive your offensive remarks/ said
the Frog, gravely, ‘ because I have learned
to-day the reason of your tiresome curiosity.
As I was hopping about on the grass at the
edge of the pond, I saw one of your race
slowly climbing up the stalk of a reed. Sud
denly there appeared a rent in his scaly coat,
and after many struggles there came out of
it one of those radiant Dragon Flies that
float in the air I told you of. He lifted his
wings out of the carcase he was leaving, and
when they had dried in the sunshine, he
flew glittering away I conclude that you
grubs will do the same thing by and-by.
“The grub listened with astonishment
and distrust, and swam off' to tell his friends.
They decided that it was impossible non
sense, and the grub said he would think no
more about it. He hurried restlessly about
in the water, hunting for prey, and trying
to forget. But not long after he began to
be sick, and a feeling he could not resist
impelled him to go upward. He called to
Lis relations and said :
“‘I must leave you, I know not why. If
the Frog’s story of another world is true, I
solemnly promise to return and tell you.’
“ His friends accompanied him to the
water’s edge, where he vanished from their
sight, for their eyes were fitted to see only
in water. All day they watched and waited
for his return, but he came no more.
“ One of his brothers soon felt the same
irresistible impulse upward, and he also
promised the sorrowing family that, if he
shouid indeed be changed into that glorious
creature of which they had heard, he would
return and tell them. ‘But/ said one, ‘per
haps you might not be able to come back.’
‘ A creature so exalted could certainly do
anything/ replied the departing grub. But
lie also came not again. ‘IJe has forgotten
us/ said one. ‘He is dead/ said another;
‘ there is no other world.’
“ And now a third brother felt the same
inward necessity driving him upward. He
bade his friends farewell, saying, ‘I dare not
promise to return. If possible I will; but
do not fear in me an altered or a forgetful
heart. If that world exists, we may not
understand its nature.’
“His companions lingered near the spot
where be disappeared, but there was neither
sign nor sound of his return. Only the
dreary sense of bereavement reminded them
that he had once lived. Some feared the
future; some disbelieved; Borne hoped and
looked forward still. Ah, if the poor things
could ouly have seen into the pure air above
their watery world, they would have beheld
their departed friends often returning to its
borders. But into the world of waters they
could never more enter. The least touch
upon its surface, as the Dragon Fly skim
med over it with the purpose of descending
to his friends, brought on a deadly shock,,
such as he had felt when as a Water Grub, he
had tried to come upward into the air. His
new wings instantly bore him back.
“And thus, divided yet near, parted yet
united by love, he often hovered about the
barrier that separated him from his early
companions, watching till they, too, should
come forth into the better life. Sweet it
was to each new comer to find himself not
alone in his joyous existence, but welcomed
into it by those who had gone before. Sweet
also to know that even in their ignorant life
below, gleams from the wings of the lost
ones they had lamented were shining down
into their dark abode. Oh, if they had
known, they would neither have feared nor
sorrowed so much !”
Mr. Bell sat in silence a few moments af
ter finishing this parable, and then said :
“ Do you see, Helen, how the other world
may be out of sight and hearing, though
very real and near ?”
“ Yes, father, I do/’ replied Helen. “It
makes it seem as if Willie might be close
beside us.”
Things That Last.
Let us now look at some ©f those things
that “ will never wear out
I have often heard a poor blind girl sweet
ly sing, “ Kind words will never die.” Ah!
we believe that these are among the things
that “will never wear out.’’ And we are
told in God’s own book to be “kind one to
another, tender hearted, forgiving one an
other.”
The word of the Lord will never wear
out. Though the grass shall wither, and
the flowers fall away, the word of the Lord
endureth forever. (L Peter i. 24, - <r> -
The life of the righteous will never wear
out. They will live in the world to come,
as long as God shall live; but the deat io \
the wicked will last forever.
The joys of the kingdom of heaven will