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man to encourage lay agency in the connection, and thereby to extend lay influence in it." (Jackson's Life of Newton.)

As a debater he was without a competitor. He was chary of his remarks in Conference sessions, well knowing that frequent and unimportant speeches there are a sure forfeiture of influence. He seldom spoke over five minutes, and then after, most others were through, and for the purpose of concentrating the dispersed thoughts of the body, of allaying exasperated feelings, or of clinching the subject by some summary and conclusive argument. When, however, the occasion required it, he could enter the arena full armed and fight the combat out, almost invariably with victory.

Well balanced faculties; a penetrating sagacity; an almost intuitive perception of the adaptation of means to ends; dexterity in reconciling dissonant minds by winning them, not so much to each other's opinions as to his own wiser or more moderate convictions; self-control, securing that tone of repose which usually characterizes the highest class of intellects, and which classic art has impressed on its noblest representations of humanity; a happy art of tranquilizing ruffled passions in debate, and of diffusing an amicable spirit among disputants; an effective but rare use of sarcasm; a style singularly lucid and terse; a readiness of reply never found wanting; a versatile capacity for work as well as for counsel; a practical habit of mind in all things, brushing aside, perhaps too much, sentiment and imagination—were traits which he not only combined, but in any one of which he has been seldom equaled.

His preaching was methodical, perspicuous, rich in scriptural citation, usually more logical than eloquent, but sometimes overwhelmingly powerful, and producing visible effect, so that "large numbers together were cut to the heart and cried out, 'Men and brethren, what shall we do?"

He was robust and dignified in stature, with calm features, a noble brow, and a sonorous voice. His gestures were few, and as simple as possible; he stood erect in the pulpit, was never hurried, never lacked the appropriate word, and never concluded his discourse without a profound impression.

Adam Clarke excelled him in learning, Newton in popular eloquence, Watson in theological analysis and sublime and speculative thought, but he surpassed them all in counsel, in

administrative talents, and in versatile practical ability. They, with all his brethren, spontaneously conceded to him supremacy in the leadership of their common cause; and British Protestantism generally recognized him as a prince in Israel.

About the time that the seven years' controversy was culminating an extraordinary revival of religion prevailed in many places. It seemed, indeed, that the great Head of the Church was crowning the patient fidelity of the ministry with a spiritual triumph which should dispel its last fear and compensate for all its long struggles. ROBERT NEWTON was perhaps the noblest trophy of this triumph. More than four hundred persons were converted on the Whitby circuit where he resided; penitent crowds flocked to the humble chapels, and he and a sister, ever after inexpressibly dear to him, went weeping with them. They were both afterward converted while on their knees, side by side, in a room of their father's house. In the year 1798 (the same in which Bunting preached his first sermon) Newton delivered his first discourse on the text, "We preach Christ crucified," in a cottage at Lyth. A Methodist chapel now stands on the site of the house, with its pulpit over the spot where the young preacher stood, with a chair before him, to deliver the first of those eloquent proclamations of the truth, which for more than half a century swayed the masses of the English people.

He joined the conference in 1799. His popularity was immediate, and thenceforward his congregations were crowds. He was tall and well proportioned, with "a large front and an eye sublime". a man fit to stand before kings. His voice was a deep musical bass, incomparable in the variety and sweetness of its modulations. His manner in the pulpit was neither declamatory nor too colloquial, but subdued, solemn, pathetic, and irresistibly impressive. Out of the desk as well as in it, he seemed anointed with a divine unction, so that one of his fellow-laborers, who heard him often, and was converted under his ministry, says that "veneration was everywhere felt for his character;" that "it was next to impossible to spend any time in conversation with him without perceiving that his intercourse with God was intimate and sanctifying;" that "he dwelt in God and God in him, and the principle of the divine life so filled and pervaded his mind, as to give an air of sanctity to his whole demeanor, which it is difficult to describe."

He was a diligent student; his sermons were mostly written, but delivered without the manuscript; on the platform he was however as successful as in the pulpit, though his speeches were evidently extemporaneous. Their casual and local allusions were frequent and often most felicitious. His language was always so simple as to be intelligible to the rudest peasant, and so correct and pertinent as to delight the most fastidious. An indescribable natural grace marked both his thoughts and his manners. His self-possession was perfect, giving him complete command of his audience and his faculties. His hearers felt that his discourses were performances of perfect facility to himself, and yet inimitable by others.

Butterworth, the eminent Wesleyan layman, induced him to appear on the platform of the Bible Society in London. His ability for such addresses was at once declared, and thenceforward he was the representative Methodist orator on anniversary occasions throughout the nation. He co-operated with Coke in the West Indian missions, and caught the infection of that wonderful man's zeal. During the remainder of his life he was the greatest popular advocate of missions in the United Kingdom. He disclaimed any special talent for the details of business; he devolved these upon Bunting, Watson, and their colleagues, and reluctantly, though faithfully, sat in missionary and other committees; but abroad among the people he was without a ministerial competitor in the great cause. When he commenced his labors for it, there were but 50 Wesleyan missionaries, with about 17,000 communicants under their care; he saw them increased to more than 350 missionaries and 100,000 communicants.

The demand for his services at missionary anniversaries, at the opening of new chapels, and on other extraordinary occasions, became almost universal in England, Scotland, and Ireland. His election four times to the Conference presidency gave him facilities for such labors; but when he was appointed to circuits it became necessary to provide for him, from year to year till the end of his life, a young preacher who might fill his week-night appointments and attend to his pastoral work, relieving him to traverse the country. Perhaps no man of his day was better known to the drivers and guards of stagecoaches on the highways of England. During forty years he FOURTH SERIES, VOL. XIII.-2

was as nearly ubiquitous in the United Kingdom as it was possible for a human being to be, and it has been estimated that he addressed from year to year a greater number of people than any other cotemporary man.

With the providential advent of such men as Watson, Bunting, and Newton in the connection about the period of its greatest trial, Methodism could not but assume a new attitude of strength and hope. In them, and similar men rising up around them, it was seen that the primitive spirit of the movement was to survive with new abilities for new adaptations, by which the great cause was to reach classes of the community to whom it hitherto had but little access, to take its stand not only in the midst, but in the front of the Protestantism of the country, and to project its power to the ends of the earth.

It is a noteworthy coincidence that while these eminent men were entering its itinerant ministry, introducing there a higher style of ministerial ability, three men of almost equal notoriety with them, but who were to represent it in its old style of lowly life, and to be especially active among the common people in behalf of its new missionary projects, appared in its local ministry.

The name of SAMUEL HICK, "The Village Blacksmith,” is known wherever the Methodist movement has extended. He knew nothing of learning beyond the arts of reading and writing, and these he acquired after his conversion; his use of his native Yorkshire dialect was hardly intelligible to the inhabitants of other districts; he was eminently holy notwithstanding an irrepressible natural humor, and was strong in common sense and native eloquence. "It is hardly possible," says a Methodist authority, "to estimate the fruits of this man's labors and prayers. Nor was his usefulness confined to those of his own rank in life; gentlemen, country squires, members of parliament, even peers of the realm, often heard from his lips the truth of God delivered in a manner which, from the holy unction with which it was charged, roused in their minds serious thoughts of God and religion, and not unfrequently so as at once to awaken real respect for the truth and its zealous teacher." (Smith's History of Methodism.)

Samuel Hick was early apprenticed to the blacksmith's craft; it made him a robust man in both nerve and muscle; his round,

generous face; his athletic form, marred somewhat by a slight stoop and a disproportion of his shoulders, the effect of hard work at the anvil; his commanding voice; his aptness for practical illustrations of his subjects, drawn from common life; his simple language, the more acceptable for being in the rude dialect of his neighbors; his tender feelings, often expressed in tears; his humor, seldom sarcastic, but rich in geniality and in surprising appositeness to his subjects; his courage, which the hardiest of the mob respected too much to challenge; his liberality, which was his greatest weakness, and often left his pockets empty; his overflowing religious cheerfulness, ever uttering itself in hymns or familiar benedictions; and above all, the real sanctity of his spirit, secured him a command over the popular sympathies which was rarely equaled by any other preacher of Methodism in his day, not excepting Newton.

He was religiously inclined from his childhood, but a sermon which he heard from Wesley got such hold upon his conscience that he could not rest. He suddenly jumped out of his bed one night and fell upon his knees to pray; his groans awakened his wife, who, supposing he had been seized with dangerous illness, arose to call her neighbors. He exclaimed: "I want JesusJesus to pardon my sins." "My eyes," he wrote years afterward, "were opened; I saw the sins I had committed through the whole course of my life; I was like the Psalmist; I cried out like the jailer." He had a hard struggle there upon his knees, but before the dawn of day the light of life had dawned upon his soul.

Without neglecting his craft, (by which in later years he became independent enough to give up work and devote his whole time to religious labors,) he now "went about doing good." Soon some of his neighbors were converted; they induced the itinerants to supply them with preaching; a class-meeting was formed, and thus was Methodism introduced into Micklefield, where he resided. He preached at his anvil. "I had," he says, "a good opportunity, as nearly the whole town came to my shop, and I was always at them."

A great revival in his neighborhood in 1794 called out his remarkable talents more fully; he became a "prayer leader," and finally a local preacher. His popularity was soon general, and wherever he went for nearly a half century crowds flocked to

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