voice, the eloquent face, the form that spoke in every motion, the living personality that glowed with celestial fire-all this has passed away forever, and we must depend on cold tradition. No doubt it would be better for Whitefield's reputation if none of his sermons had been printed. Even Franklin, who was eager to publish them as a business proposition, and whose presses were kept busy trying to meet the demand, more than once admitted that they did the writer no credit. And yet, in spite of their mediocre character, they were used of God in blessing a multitude of lives. They circulated widely on both sides of the Atlantic. They were read by individuals, by families, and in larger circles, and they carried the message to many who could never have been reached by the living voice.

Take a single example. In those early times, religion in the colony of Virginia was at a very low ebb. A young layman, Samuel Morris, became burdened with the need of a revival, and he longed to help. One day, in 1743, there fell into his hands a volume of Whitefield's sermons. Here was his chance. He could not preach but he could read, and calling his neighbors to his own house he began reading to them these sermons. The effect was immediate. He tells us that "the concern of some of the people was now so passionate and violent that they could not avoid crying out and weeping bitterly. My dwelling house became too small to contain the congregation, and we determined to

build a meetinghouse, merely for reading." This led to the introduction of Presbyterianism and to its spread all over the colony. It marked the dawn of a new religious day.

The question is often asked, "Would Whitefield's preaching produce the same impression now that it did in the eighteenth century?" No, if what is meant is a mere transference of sermons and delivery from that generation to this, any more than the Whitefield style of dress would be regarded with favor to-day. Times change, and while truth remains the same, forms and expression are altered. But is it not fair to assume that, since Whitefield was so successful in adapting himself to the age in which he lived, he would be no less able to fit into the needs of the twentieth century? Doubtless some parts of his message would receive a new theological setting, and his pulpit language and manner might be modified. But, given the same prophetic vision with the same glad obedience to that vision, the same extraordinary qualities and gifts of heart and mind and body, the same world of sin and sorrow, only immensely bigger and more conscious of its need-may we not suppose that God would make as large use of his servant in these days as nearly two hundred years ago? At all events, we wish that Whitefield were here; we would like to see what would happen.