Now, if we take Archdeacon Sinclair and Dr. John Watson as examples of more deliberate and sedate preachers, we may regard the Rev. John McNeil, the well-known Presbyterian minister, as an instance of the colloquial preacher.
Not that his voice is low-pitched, as used in conversation. Mr. McNeil has done what few preachers could physically undertake: he has preached twice a day for a fortnight in the Albert Hall at Kensington, the largest hall in London, and capable of holding about ten thousand persons; and he has repeatedly filled the huge Agricultural Hall at Islington, numbers being turned away from lack of room. His voice, indeed, seems capable of filling the largest hall without effort. But his style is easy, unaffected, conversational, though sometimes, with both arms outstretched, he bursts forth into loud and impassioned appeals. There is no doubt a large section of the public who like this easy and colloquial style, especially if it come quite naturally to the speaker.
And now another celebrated figure rises on the scene, the eminent Baptist minister, Dr. McLaren of Manchester. Refined, scholarly, brimming over with knowledge, and a master of beautiful illustration, there is no doubt that he takes rank as one of the very greatest preachers of the day. Like other great speakers, he has evidently studied the art of preaching.
[Illustration: DR. HORTON. HUGH PRICE HUGHES. J. R. JOWETT. SILVESTER HORNE.]
At a meeting at the Holborn Restaurant to celebrate his ministerial jubilee in April, 1896, he said he had determined, at the outset of his career, to concentrate his mind on the work of the ministry and not fritter away his energies over many minor engagements. He had always endeavoured to make his ministry one of Gospel exposition; he had preached Christ because he believed that men needed redemption, and he had preached without doubts and hesitations. It was Thomas Binney who had taught him how to preach.
Undoubtedly Dr. McLaren has succeeded in his aim as an expositor of the Scriptures, for that is regarded as one of his chief characteristics. A favourite gesture of Dr. McLaren's--at all events in his earlier days--was to squeeze up a handkerchief, no doubt quite unconsciously, in his right hand by the nervous energy he was putting forth in his discourse, and then suddenly his hand would dart out to mark some emphatic passage as though he were about to throw the handkerchief at the congregation; but needless to add the handkerchief was never thrown.