Sermons Compared to Guns
By Baron Stone
Sermons are like guns. Some are large, others are small; some are long, others are short; some are new, others old; some are bright, others rusty; some are loaded, others empty; some are owned, others borrowed. Some are air-guns, some pop-guns, some of every size, from the pocket-pistol to the Paixhan gun. Some are charged only with powder, and make a great noise and smoke. Some send only small shot, that irritate rather than kill. Some carry heavy metal, that does execution. Some discharge chain shot, mowing down whole platoons. Some are wide-mouthed mortars, throwing only bomb shells. Some are duelling pistols, used only in controversy—vile things. Some go off half bent. Some flash in the pan. Some make a terrible fizz, the charge all escaping at the priming-hole. Some shoot too high, some too low, some sideways, and a few directly at the mark. Some aim at nothing, and hit it. Some scatter prodigiously. Some kick their owner over. Some are unerring; others always hit the wrong object. Some have too much wadding, and vice versa. Some are alarm guns; others are complimentary guns, used only for salutes on special occasions. Some are in a series, constituting a battery; others on swivels, made to turn in any direction. Some are useful, some useless, some dangerous. Some amuse, some frighten, some exasperate, some explode, some gain the victory. Very much depends upon the manner in which they are made and managed.