We were seated in the balcony of a large popular church in a prosperous mid-Western city. The occasion was the ordination of a group of young men being dedicated to the ministry in another denomination. Two district conferences had combined in session for their annual meeting. A veteran bishop of national reputation, and a younger bishop much loved in his own denominational circles, were presiding at the service.
With dignity and solemnity free from pomp, the service was carried forward with impressiveness, the charm of which lay largely in the perfect English diction and clear enunciation of the officiating prelates as they read or recited the ritual. Then, when the act of renunciation was concluded with a prayer of consecration, fathers and mothers and wives of the candidates gathered at the chancel rail to sing with them on bended knees the age-old song, "My faith looks up to Thee." Tears trickled down the faces of many in the congregation, and in a few moments they were filing out with subdued voices and with hearts lifted up into the rarer levels of spiritual thinking. And it had been largely accomplished through the magic of words. I thought of the text about words "fitly spoken," and ruminated on the possibilities of the English language to move the human heart to devotion.
Once again we sat inside one of the most beautiful church interiors I had ever seen. We had come to witness the pageantry of a midnight mass in celebration of Christmas. All that human art could do in painting, sculpture, and architecture had been employed to make the setting appeal to a sense of worship. The music was entrancing, the ceremony was colorful, and the general atmosphere reverential. But the effect was largely spoiled by the sermon, which was presented in a bungling manner, full of grammatical and rhetorical crudities. The high-pitched, metallic voice of the preacher contributed to the general impression of incompetency. How void is thought, I mused, when not couched in appropriate language. These incidents are by way of illustration, occurring in churches not of our faith.
In a recently published book, modern writers tell of the painstaking efforts they put forth to do artistic work, writing, revising, and rewriting in order to achieve mastery of style in the secular field. Should there not be a corresponding zeal on the part of those who are charged with the ministry of the gospel to eradicate from their language those improprieties and solecisms which are not in keeping with the beauty of truth?
Should we tolerate in ourselves, therefore, such manifest redundancies as "Turn over to Isaiah," "Read off the list," "Open up your Bibles," and "Stand to your feet while we sing"? The words italicized in the foregoing oft-employed pulpit phrases are all unnecessary. Should we persist in pronouncing saith (seth) as sayeth when we have no lexicographer on our side? Should we use an intensive Pronoun, as is commonly done, when a personal pronoun is intended, e. g., "The service was conducted by Elder Brown and myself"? The accepted form in. all such statements is me, or I if used as subject of the verb. And let us never, never swing into the most egregious blunder in this group of infelicities and say, "When a person comes to their senses." The use of Ms when referring to masculine or common gender nouns is well established. Let us choose, in short, the best pulpit diction. Mere glibness can never excuse lack of precision.
Berrien Springs, Mich.