would not rob the world of its great masters who interpret for us the drama of life, and out of dreamy thought create for us flesh and blood characters in whose deeds and influence we see the workings of those immutable moral laws which grind on with certain and irresistible might toward definite conclusions, nor of those who weave for us the kindly tale which beguiles a restful hour. They have their place. But for the strenuous life there is no tonic like the bracing inspiration of a vigorous thinker. Merrill quickens thought. In all his writings there is seen his characteristic bent for positive truth, intellectual satisfaction in definite formulation of scriptural teaching, lucid statement, spiritual vision. He is never a fossil, never out of range with new ideas. His little work on Miracles and that masterful irenic on true liberty of biblical inquiry, which he wrote for the Northwestern Christian Advocate in an afternoon, show how well he kept himself abreast of modern thought.

Such in broad outlines, imperfect as they are, was Bishop Merrill as he stood before the church. Would that I could describe him better! Simple, massive, commanding, loving, a servant of God and devoted to every interest of the Redeemer's kingdom, his name will grow greater as we climb higher, for we shall then see the whole mountain from base to peak and the long reach of his influence on the thought and life and polity of the church. After his retirement at Los Angeles he sought repose. He was no longer the resident bishop of Chicago. The burdens of office no longer oppressed him. To the newly elected bishop, William F. McDowell, who succeeded him, he gave, as was his nature, cordial welcome, and placed at his service the rich experience and ample knowledge of his long official life. The relation between the two men was beautiful. It was Asbury and McKendree over again. But the old bishop was growing weary. He longed for quietness, for the King in his beauty and the land that is far off

Where never creeps a cloud, nor moves a wind,

Nor ever falls the least white star of snow,

Nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans,
Nor sound of human sorrow mounts to mar
Their sacred, everlasting calm!

He little knew how near he was to those Elysian fields. But the end was at hand. The General Missionary Committee held its annual meeting in November, 1905, in Brooklyn. Bishop Merrill was in attendance. On Saturday, the 12th, he occupied the chair at the morning session, and in the afternoon he presided over the Bishops' conference. Friends noticed signs of physical weariness. But on Sunday morning he preached in Brooklyn, and toward evening crossed over to the home of a near friend at Keyport, New Jersey. That was his last presidency; that was his final sermon. That night, suddenly, the message came. He heard the call of the Unseen and went over. He was dead! Out from the night of earth he passed into the eternal morning, to the land of the unclouded day, where the dear Lord's tired ones rest and are never sick any more, nor worn nor weary, nor ever know again the heartaches of the earth-life, for "God shall spread his tabernacle over them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat, for the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes."

So died Bishop Merrill, one of the greatest bishops of Methodism and one of the foremost leaders of the Christian Church. He had spent eleven years on circuits, eight years on stations, four years on a district, four years as editor, and thirty-two years as an effective bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Nobler tributes to ability and worth were never laid on the bier of the departed than those spontaneous expressions of his colleagues in the episcopacy, and this imperfect sketch might well close with the lines of the old hymn, "Servant of God, well done!" but there come stealing across the page the words of Him who turneth the shadow of death into the light of morning: "Whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."

ART. II. THE PROVINCE OF THE PREACHER

THE last word involves a limitation which should be noted. The theme is not the province of the minister, for "minister" is a wider term than "preacher." It is not the province of the pastor, for "pastor" is a different word from "preacher." It is not the province of the clergyman, for the clergyman has a kingdom of many provinces. My subject is the Province of the Preacher, the man in the pulpit delivering a message.

The

What is his province? What is the legitimate scope of his activity? What is the field assigned to him to be cultivated? It is a question of tremendous importance, and too often ignored by those whom it most concerns. The secret of efficiency in life lies in the ability to draw boundary lines. Success lies in resolved limitation. It is the man who is willing to impose limitations on himself who is most likely to get on. It is a great saying of Emerson that the one prudence in life is concentration. more difficult the work the greater the necessity for self-limitation. A Jack-at-all-trades has a place in the world, but it is not a high place. He stands at the foot of the ladder. It is the man who does only one thing who reaches the upper spaces. The man who would sing a little may study many things besides music, but the man who would sing superbly must give himself to music alone. The dilettante in painting may dabble in a dozen avocations, but the man who would be a great artist must do nothing but paint. Would a man make a great impression on the world? Then he must limit the area over which he spreads his force. Some men make a great clatter by their widespread hammering, but after their work is completed men discover they have driven nothing but brass-headed tacks. The men who have driven in the great spikes which hold society and institutions together are men who have directed their sledge hammers to the same point again and again and again, and could not be diverted from their mighty undertaking by offers either of fame or of money. When Jesus said to his apostles, "Go not into the way of the Gentiles," it was

not because his vision was narrow but because he held the world and the ages in his eye. He kept his apostles within limits which were narrow because only so could he get the great tree planted whose leaves were to be for the healing of the nations. He simply expressed the temper of all great souls intrusted with a stupendous task when he said: "I have a baptism to be baptized with; and how am I straitened till it be accomplished!" He could not turn to the right or the left. His face was set steadfastly to go to Jerusalem and there finish the work God had given him to do. We are living in times when the constant temptation of every man is dissipation of energy. It is a new world in which we are living. New kingdoms have been opened, and new kingdoms are 'always attractive. New wealth has been piled up, and new-got wealth has manifold fascinations. It is an age of liberty moreover, and every man is doing what is right in his own eyes. The ancient restraints are irksome and the old ways exceedingly tedious. Men say, "The world is my parish," and they roam whithersoever they will. Barriers are an imposition. Limitations are intolerable tyranny. That is the feeling everywhere. It is mighty in the world of education. "Let the boys and girls learn a little of everything and let them study what they please. Let them choose their own direction and let them go as far as they will. It is a shame to hold them in. Education is not discipline, as the fathers thought, education is enjoyment. Let boys and girls roam the great fields of knowledge at pleasure." Mighty voices are saying this in the world of colleges and schools. In the religious realm. this spirit is mightier still. Every limitation in thought or conduct is rebelled against as tyranny. "Away with your doctrines and dogmas. They are definitions, and definitions cramp the mind and smother truth. Let nothing be defined. Waste no time in drawing distinctions. Give no attention to exactitude in the statement of great ideas. What is Christianity but a feeling? Why draw distinctions between the church and the world, between saints and sinners, between Christianity and other religions, between Jesus of Nazareth and other men? Do not be narrow in your thinking, but let us float like summer clouds through an

atmosphere luminous with love." Thus speaks one of the spirits that are now abroad. And the ambassador of Christ would not be human if he were not susceptible to the all-pervading Zeitgeist. The greatest men are ever the most sensitive to the temper of their time, and most responsive to its dominant moods and aspirations. He who would guide and lift his generation must have in him the forces which are boiling in the hearts of his contemporaries. Unless he is with men where they are he is not likely to lead them into that place where they ought to be. Only as he feels in his own mind and heart the pulsing of the forces by which the world is swayed will he be able to speak to men in the language in which they were born and become master of that sympathetic touch to which the heavy gates of the soul swing open. It is a unique congregation which the minister of our day is called to face; a congregation of men and women fed largely on newspapers and magazines, their heads stuffed with odds and ends of information swept together from the four quarters of the globe, their hearts filled with bewilderments and confusions engendered by the stirring, tumultuous time of which they are a part. It would be strange indeed if the preacher facing such a congregation did not at times become bewildered, not knowing how to minister in the name of Jesus to such multitudinous and clamorous needs. Is it any wonder that clergymen now and then lose sight of the boundaries of their vineyard, and go with other men to labor in fields which lie beyond the province marked out for them by the finger of the Lord? What a temptation it is to be an editor! What tremendous power a newspaper man possesses. He comes down into the arena in which men are living. He talks to them about things in which they are interested: politics, art, literature, science, business, recreation. All the kingdoms of the world belong to him. He picks them up, they sparkle in his hand, and by the breadth of his sympathy he achieves a mastery which the poor preacher covets and would fain attain unto. The themes selected for pulpit treatment in many pulpits within the past ten years give evidence that the temptation is subtle, and that even the elect may occasionally succumb. What a king among men the