He lived in the same village as
William Dawson, and was a member of his class. He was a disciple of
Dawson in every respect, but in no respect a servile imitator. He was a
man and not a slave. And he had much of Dawson's sense, and much of
Dawson's power, though little or nothing of Dawson's natural dramatic
manner. He was a fountain pouring forth a perpetual stream of truth and
holy influence. The two were one in love, and light, and power, but in
manner they differed as much as any two powerful preachers I ever knew.
Both live in my soul, and speak with my voice, and write with my pen.
Both had an influence in determining both the method of my preaching and
the manner of my life in my early days.
James Parsons was a Congregationalist. His character, and the character
of his preaching, may be learned from his published sermons. But,
strange to say, the sermons published by himself, are not near so good,
nor do they convey half so good an idea of his power, as those reported
by short-hand writers and published by others. He was more, and better,
and mightier in the pulpit, before a large and living congregation, than
in his closet alone. My remembrance of these three great and godly men,
and powerful Christian ministers, is a rich and eternal treasure.
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