We
dined with Mr. Hardinge, at the Rectory, which was quite near the
church; and the irreverent, business-like, make-weight sort of look,
of going in to one service almost as soon as the other was ended, as
if to score off so much preaching and praying as available at the
least trouble, being avoided, by having the evening service commence
late, she was enabled to remain until the close of the day. Mr.
Hardinge rarely preached but once of a Sunday. He considered the
worship of God, and the offices of the church, as the proper duties of
the day, and regarded his own wisdom as a matter of secondary
importance. But one sermon cost him as much labour, and study, and
anxiety, as most clergymen's two. His preaching, also, had the high
qualification of being addressed to the affections of his flock, and
not to its fears and interests. He constantly reminded us of God's
_love_, and of the _beauty_ of holiness; while I do not
remember to have heard him allude half a dozen times in his life to
the terrors of judgment and punishment, except as they were connected
with that disappointed love. I suppose there are spirits that require
these allusions, and the temptations of future happiness, to incite
their feelings; but I like the preacher who is a Christian because he
feels himself _drawn_ to holiness, by a power that is of itself
holy; and not those who appeal to their people, as if heaven and hell
were a mere matter of preference and avoidance, on the ground of
expediency.
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