voice. Here he lowers his voice. Holds his arms extended. Bawls aloud.
Stands trembling. Makes a frightful face. Turns up the whites of his
eyes. Clasps his hands behind him. Clasps his arms around him, and hugs
himself. Roars aloud. Holloas. Jumps. Cries. Changes from crying.
Holloas and jumps again."

One would have thought that if any man ought to have been free from
persecution it was George Whitefield, bringing great masses of the
people into the kingdom of God, wearing himself out for Christ's sake:
and yet the learned Dr. Johnson called him a mountebank. Robert Hall
preached about the glories of heaven as no uninspired man ever preached
about them, and it was said when he preached about heaven his face shone
like an angel's, and yet good Christian John Foster writes of Robert
Hall, saying: "Robert Hall is a mere actor, and when he talks about
heaven the smile on his face is the reflection of his own vanity." John
Wesley stirred all England with reform, and yet he was caricatured by
all the small wits of his day. He was pictorialised, history says, on
the board fences of London, and everywhere he was the target for the
punsters; yet John Wesley stands to-day before all Christendom, his name
mighty. I have preached a Gospel that is not only appropriate to the
home circle, but is appropriate to Wall Street, to Broadway, to Fulton
Street, to Montague Street, to Atlantic Street, to every street--not
only a religion that is good for half past ten o'clock Sunday morning,
but good for half past ten o'clock any morning. This was one of the
considerations in my work as a preacher of the Gospel that extended its
usefulness. A practical religion is what we all need. In my previous
work at Belleville, N.J., and in Syracuse, I had absorbed other
considerations of necessity in the business of uniting the human
character with the church character.