sometimes so unfair and ungenerous, and our sermons are sometimes also so much " up in the air.” We fire at random instead of taking aim-taking aim, I mean, not at individuals (for such " personal preaching" is likely to be as unprofitable as it is offensive)—but taking aim at certain perplexities of thought, difficulties of belief, states of feeling, habits of conduct, and phases of experience. This is perhaps the most important use of the imagination in our work of preaching. Power of illustration, technically so-called, is a minor affair as compared with this. And, whenever we do thus vividly realize the actual and possible condition of our hearers, those illustrations with which we seek to throw light upon our theme will probably be all the more natural and appropriate; for we shall be more content with the homely holding of the candle, and less ambitious of shooting rockets into the sky.

Passing now from our preaching to our CONDUCT of THE DEVOTIONAL SERVICES OF THE SANCTUARY, it becomes obvious that the peculiar exercise of the imagination on which I have just been dwelling, is, in this region also, of the highest value. It is often said to be one of the advantages of a liturgy, that it keeps a congregation from being at the mercy of this or that minister. And there can be no doubt that one of the chief dangers of our free prayer does lie in the direction thus indicated. In order that we may lead the devotions of others aright, more is needed than a devotional spirit in ourselves. It may, indeed, be true that the spontaneous utterance in prayer of our own present feelings and special yearnings may sometimes, through its very freshness and naturalness, be peculiarly helpful to others. The

touch of individuality in a minister's prayer is sometimes a stimulus to the devotional spirit of his congregation. But it is not always so. Instead of leading

the prayers of others, may we not sometimes be only dragging their thoughts at the wheels of our own passing mood? "Common Prayer" is, after all, prayer in which an assembly can unite. If we only pray -however sincerely-in the hearing of the people, and do not succeed in getting them to pray along with us, we certainly fail in this most important and difficult region of our work. To guard against such failure, let us resort to the healthy outlook which imagination can give us. Let us seek to picture to our thought the various feelings and conditions of those whose devotions we are called to lead. There may be in our congregation the young and the old, the glad and the sorrowful, the perplexed and the restful, the rich and the poor, the cultured and the ignorant, the bereaved and the united, the despairing and the thankful, and many of these must be in a different condition from that in which we ourselves happen to be at the hour of social worship. Let a minister, by an effort of the imagination, draw near to the throne of the One Father, as a brother amid a band of brethren, all linked together by community of need in diversity of experience, and this will tend to prevent the stimulative individuality of his prayers from passing into an exclusive self-absorption.

And now, as most of us are not only ministers of the gospel but also pastors of churches, I should like, further, to say a word as to the importance of letting the imagination play freely around THE PASTORAL RELATIONSHIP. I sometimes fear that in our

Congregational churches both ministers and people are losing, to some extent, their sense of the sacredness and beauty of this relationship. The average duration of the pastorate amongst us is becoming lamentably short, and one of the causes of this is, I suspect, the lack of that mutual affection which ought to exist between minister and people. The transfiguring power of the imagination is a great quickener of affection. And let us remember that transfiguration is not necessarily illusion. Our so-called "practical men" are often just the men who miss some of the truest and sweetest realities of life. And when a minister's flock" becomes to him a mere Sunday audience, and a people's minister becomes to them a mere Sunday lecturer, one chief charm and value of the pastoral relation is gone. I am not here confounding "pastoral work" with so-called "pastoral visitation." I am speaking of a certain attitude of mind and soul. I am well aware that some of the best pastoral" work may be done from the pulpit. What I am pleading for is that it be done with the shepherd-heart. And as for "visitation," a pastor may regret that he has not more time to give to it; but I utterly fail to see why he should despise it. Why should a man grudge the touch of simple human-ness that lies in the homely call and the kindly inquiry? It may not, perhaps, be worth calling" pastoral work "; it may not be worth calling "work" at all; but, if he does it out of the shepherd-heart, it may be a valuable help towards the spiritual success of his labour. The Great Teacher did not disdain to accept the invitation to the house of the Pharisee, or to invite Himself to the house of the publican, and the very Cross of Calvary itself owes

not a little of its spiritual power to the human-hearted life that went before it.

I believe that one of the crying needs of our modern Congregationalism is a higher estimate of the Christian ministry as a vocation. I fear that there are some of our seat-holders who pay their pew-rent in much the same spirit as they might subscribe to a season's concerts. I fear that there are even some of them who regard a minister as a kind of pew-filling machine, and who, if he does not succeed in this special function, begin to think of giving him "three months' notice." Brethren, we did not devote ourselves to the work of the ministry in order to be regarded as hired Sunday-entertainers, or as the salaried managers of a joint-stock company, limited. Be it ours to make this low estimate of our ministry an impossibility. Be it ours to "magnify our office." But let us take care that we do really magnify it. If a pastor regards himself as the only important unit in the management of church affairs, and regards his deacons as simply so many ciphers who come after him to swell his magnitude, there is little wonder if by and bye the ciphers should come in front of him, decimal-fashion, and reduce his importance to that of a fractional quantity. Let us sometimes place ourselves by imagination in the diaconate, and ask ourselves whether we should be willing to remain in such an office, if we were expected to do nothing but register the decrees, and carry out the plans, and perhaps even the whims, of one absolute ruler. Such an exercise of the imagination would perhaps help to give us the tact which, as pastors, we need, not the diplomatic tact of manoeuvre and finesse, but

the simple tact which disarms suspicion and distrust, because it springs from true Christian courtesy, and from a thorough respect for man as man.

Surely the true way to magnify the pastoral office is to give to it that touch of unworldliness and dignity which comes of cherishing high aims and unselfish affections. If we would teach our people what Christian pastorship means, we must love them. We must try to look at them as through the eyes of the "Great Shepherd of the sheep." Here, to idealize is to realize. We cannot see our work as it really is, unless we behold it in the eternal light. Our people must be to us, not mere occupiers of pews who appreciate our sermons, and minister to our success, but immortal souls, whose value we appreciate, and to whom we are called to minister. And I think it might be a good thing for all of us who preach the gospel if we would sometimes picture in imagination that coming day when the grand question for us will be, not whether we have built up a reputation, or "built up a congregation," but whether we have really tried to arouse and convert, to console and strengthen, to instruct and build up souls, by speaking to them the word of divine truth out of the fulness of a loving human heart.