American Republican And Baltimore Daily Clipper

[From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier.]

AN ELOQUENT PREACHER.

There is scarcely an intelligent reader who has not heard of the Rev. Thomas I. Stockton, of this city. He is pastor of the Independent Methodist Church, North 11th street. His name has been, to-day, called to our mind, in consequence of reading a just tribute to his exalted abilities, as a pulpit orator, from the pen of the Cincinnati Herald. Its editor, when lately in Philadelphia, heard him, on the great subject of "Christ's Ascension"—and he thinks it one of the finest specimens of pulpit oratory he ever listened to. In his finest passages of spiritual soaring, he held a dense auditory in breathless silence. He spoke, as he advanced, of "the expectant array of saints and angels, the chariots and horses of fire, the cloud, dark beneath, but reflecting above the glories of Heaven, the pause of the Saviour, when the cloud had received him, while the celestial hosts stood silent, as he gazed once more on familiar scenes—Nazareth, his birth place, the temple in which he had taught, the desert where five thousand had been fed, the mountain of prayer, the grave of Lazarus, Gethsemane, and Calvary. Then began the ascent, the throng following, passing worlds upon worlds in their upward flight, far above all principalities and powers, and thrones and dominions, till the gates of the Eternal City were reached, when, with electric power, he introduced the sublime colloquy in the Psalm, 'Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, and let the King of Glory in!' He seemed to gather power as he rose into the Heaven of Heavens.' His tall, slender form, stretched to his utmost height; his eyes flashed as with the splendours of eternity. Every stroke of the pencil brought out a new feature—added a richer glow; every tone became more and more rapturous, till the ascent was completed, and the gates closed upon the burning throng. I drew a long breath, and felt as if I should be glad to descend. But no!—the preacher paused for a moment, as if gathering strength for a still bolder flight, and then called his auditors to go with him to witness the glories of the coronation. I will not attempt to give even an idea of this crowning effort. One would almost imagine that Milton had risen from the dead, and his lofty diction was revealing the mysteries of the Inner Sanctuary. Without doubt, Stockton surpasses all men I ever heard, in a rich, bold, and well-proportioned imagination. For were it not for its exact proportions, it would seem, beyond measure, extravagant. But, in his highest soaring, he moves with such ease, poises himself so dexterously, that the circle of the Heavens seems to be his natural element."

Mr. Stockton is, we should think, about forty years of age. He was originally a journeyman printer. Possessing great natural powers, perseverance took him onward and upward. He has been Chaplain to Congress, and now labors most industriously in his present high calling as a Pastor—is Editor of 'The Christian World'—and, but for infirm health, could, without much time in their composition, pronounce more public discourses, to hold in breathless awe immense auditories, than, perhaps, any other clergyman of his time.