M‘CHEYNE AS A PREACHER
THE REV. ROBERT M‘CHEYNE went about his public work with awful reverence. So evident was this that I remember, says his biographer, a countryman in my parish observed to me,—“Before he opened his lips, as he came along the passage, there was something about him that sorely affected me.” In the vestry there never was any idle conversation; all was preparation of the heart in approaching God, and a short prayer preceded his entering the pulpit. After announcing the subject of his discourse, he used, generally, to show the position it occupied in the context, and then proceeded to bring out the doctrines of the text after the manner of our old divines. This done, he divided his subject, and herein he was eminently skilful. “The heads of his sermons,” said a friend, “were not the milestones that tell how near you are to your journey’s end, but they were nails which fixed and fastened all he said. Divisions are often dry, but not so his divisions,—they were so textual and so feeling, and th