might speak as man never yet spoke on English soil; that He who was
listened to gladly once, because He spake with authority, and not as the
scribes, at second hand, and by rule and precedent, might be listened to
gladly here once more. For He might speak here, not as we poor scribes
can speak at best, but with an authority, originality, earnestness, as
well as an eloquence, which might exercise a fascination, which would be,
to all with whom He came in contact, what Malachi calls it, "a refiner's
fire"--most purifying, though often most painful to the very best; a
fascination which might be to every one who came under its spell a
veritable Judgment and Day of the Lord, shewing each man with fearful
clearness to which side he really inclined at heart in the struggle
between truth and falsehood, good and evil; a fascination, therefore,
equally attractive to those who wished to do right, and intolerable to
those who wished to do wrong.

Consider that last thought. And consider, too, that those to whom the
fascination of such a personage might be so intolerable, that it might
turn to utter hate, would probably be those whose moral sense was so
perverted, that they thought they were doing right when they were doing
wrong, and speaking truth when they were telling lies. It is an awful
thought. But we know that there were such men, and too many, among the
scribes and Pharisees of Jerusalem. And human nature is the same in
every age. Be that as it may--however retired His life, He could not
long be hid. He would shortly exercise, almost without attempting it, an
enormous public influence.

But yet, as in Judea of old, would He not be only too successful? Would
He not be at once too liberal for some, and too exacting for others?
Would He not, as in Judea of old, encounter not merely the active envy of
the vain and the ambitious, which would follow one who spoke as never man