The Village Pulpit, Volume II. Trinity to Advent A Complete Course of 66 Short Sermons, or Full Sermon Outlines for Each Sunday, and Some Chief Holy Days of the Christian — Edition Insights

Contrast as a Structural Device

The sermons rely heavily on antithesis. In the excerpt on Esau and Jacob, Baring-Gould draws a sharp line between the two brothers: Esau receives the fatness of the earth and the dew of heaven, but gets them for himself; Jacob receives the same gifts, but from God. The preacher hammers home the difference with a repeated phrase—'God before all to Jacob, and all these things added unto him. All these things to Esau, and God nowhere.' This pattern of paired opposites recurs throughout the volume. The sermon on the rich man and Lazarus sets earthly feasting against eternal torment. The outline on the Pharisee and the publican contrasts self-justification with humble confession. Baring-Gould does not argue subtly; he places two figures side by side and lets the congregation see which path leads to blessing.

Rural Imagery and the Familiar

Despite the gravity of his subjects, Baring-Gould roots his illustrations in village life. The sermon on the widow’s son at Nain opens with an extended picture of an English village: 'thatched cottages, and green pastures, and the cows coming home lowing in the evening, when the curfew tolls the knell of passing day.' He names hollyhocks, white lilies, apples, lime trees, rooks. This is not decorative padding; it makes the abstract doctrine of mortality concrete. The bell tolls for the young man, then for the old squire, then for a child, then for an aged mother. Each vignette is brief, almost cinematic, and the repetition of 'Behold, a dead man is carried out' becomes a refrain. The preacher knows his audience: rural labourers and farmers who see death in the familiar landscape of churchyard and harvest.

Direct Address and the Call to Self-Inspection

Baring-Gould frequently turns from exposition to a pointed 'you.' In the contemplation of death, he writes: 'some day the same question will be asked as the church bell tolls, Who is this? ... and that will be you.' The conclusion of the Esau-Jacob sermon exhorts: 'try to trust God more. Do not give up all thought to the concerns of this life.' The sermon on the publican urges self-inspection without self-deception. This directness is characteristic of the volume. The preacher does not lecture abstractly; he places each hearer before the text. The outlines are designed for oral delivery, with short sentences, rhetorical questions, and a rhythm that builds to a practical resolution. The effect is that of a pastor speaking to a known congregation, not a theologian writing for the study.

Readers approaching this volume should attend to the interplay between the scriptural text and Baring-Gould’s homiletic method. He selects a single verse, often from the Gospel of Luke, and builds a sermon around a moral or spiritual crisis. The outlines are brief—many could be delivered in ten minutes—but they are dense with application. The preacher assumes a congregation familiar with the Bible and the church year, and he does not waste words. For those interested in Victorian preaching, rural religious life, or the practical theology of the Anglican parish, this collection offers a clear window into the pulpit of the 1880s.

Leafing through these outlines, I recalled standing in our cold village church, the rector’s voice steadying a restless heart. His blunt talk of trust over worry felt like a hand on my shoulder. Later, reading Sermons on the Scriptural Principles of our Protestant Church — Story, Setting & Ideas, that same quiet, unadorned steadiness returned—less like preaching, more like a familiar path walked again.