Like Patrick Henry, Clay, Guthrie, Spurgeon and other great masters of assemblies, he was gifted with a richly melodious voice--which was especially effective on the low and tender keys.

This gave him great power in the pathetic portions of his discourses.

Of his superabounding humor I need not speak.

It bubbled out so naturally and spontaneously that he found it difficult to restrain it even on the most grave occasions.

Sometimes he sinned against good taste, and I once heard his sister Catherine say that "Henry rarely delivered a speech or a sermon which did not contain something that grated on her ear." His most frequent offenses were in the direction of flippant handling of sacred themes and Scripture language.