every goose that gabbles, is more of a sage, if not more of a saint,
than the great preachers! The things so-called by a certain class of
simpletons, are about the most pitiable, if not the most blameable
creatures, in all God's universe. What then is the upshot of what I am
saying? It is this. Whether I sing, or pray, or talk, I will make myself
understood. I thank my God, I can speak with tongues more than you all;
and I _do_ speak with them when it is necessary to do so in order to
make myself understood: but in the Church, I had rather speak five words
in a tongue and a style that my hearers can understand, that by my voice
I may teach others, than ten thousand in an unknown tongue."

And so the great, good, common-sense Apostle goes on.

My wish and purpose were to carry out his principles to the farthest
possible extent. If I had tried hard, I could have preached in Latin.
With a little more effort I could have preached in Greek. I could have
preached in the ordinary, high-sounding, Frenchified, Latinized, mongrel
style, without an effort. It required an effort to keep clear of the
abomination. And I made the effort. I wanted to feel when speaking, that
I had not only myself a proper understanding of what I was talking
about, but that I was conveying correct and clear ideas of it to the
minds of my hearers. To utter words which I did not understand, or words
which I could not make my hearers understand, was a thing I could not
endure; and to this day, the very idea of such a thing excites in me a
kind of horror. I had no ambition to preach what were called great
sermons, or to be what was called a great preacher. My great desire was
not to astonish or confound people, but to do them good; to convey
religious truth to their minds in such a way, and so to impress it on
their hearts, that they might be converted, edified, and saved.