At times this deep strain of pathos was all that could be heard, and scarcely heard, sighing amid a desolate silence. But even when the minister’s voice grew high and commanding⁠—when it gushed irrepressibly upward⁠—when it assumed its utmost breadth and power, so overfilling the church as to burst its way through the solid walls, and diffuse itself in the open air⁠—still, if the auditor listened intently, and for the purpose, he could detect the same cry of pain. What was it? The complaint of a human heart, sorrow-laden, perchance guilty, telling its secret, whether of guilt or sorrow, to the great heart of mankind; beseeching its sympathy or forgiveness⁠—at every moment⁠—in each accent⁠—and never in vain! It was this profound and continual undertone that gave the clergyman his most appropriate power.