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 BX^119 .A33 1863 
 Aids to prayer 
 
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 Aids to Prayer. 
 
 " More things are wrought by prayer 
 
 Than this world dreams of. 
 
 For what are men better than sheep or goats, 
 That nourish a bUnd life within the brain, 
 If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
 Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? 
 For so the whole round earth is every way 
 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God." 
 
 Tesnvson. 
 
 NrbD-gcrk : 
 
 DEALER IX RELIGIOUS BOOKS, 
 
 6S3 BROADWAY. 
 
 1863. 
 
COISlTElfTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 INTRODUCTION, 5 
 
 OUR FATHER, 15 
 
 GOD'S TENDER MERCY, . . . . 33 
 
 THE REASON OF PRAYER, .... 51 
 
 THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. . . . . .77 
 
 " COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE," . . 91 
 
 THE SCOPE OF PRAYER, 113 
 
 THE AID OF THE SPIRIT, . . . .125 
 
 HUMILITY BEFORE GOD, 139 
 
 THE PRAYER-MEETING, . . . .147 
 
 THE PRAYERLESS LIFE, . . . . .159 
 
 APPENDIX, In 
 
Kntrotruction, 
 
 Acts xvii. 25-28. 
 " He giveth to all life, and breath, and all things ; and hath 
 made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all 
 the face of the earth ; and hath determined the times before 
 appointed, and the bounds of their habitation ; that they 
 should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and 
 find him, though he be not far from every one of us : for 
 in him we live, and move, and have our being ; as certain 
 also of your own poets have said, For we are also his off- 
 spring." 
 
 1 Thess. v. 17. 
 " Pray without ceasing." 
 
 1 Tim. ii. S. 
 " I will therefore that men pray every where, lifting up holy 
 hands, without wrath and doubting.*' 
 
 ISA. Iv. 6-7. 
 " Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him 
 while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the 
 unrighteous man his thoughts : and let him return unto the 
 Lord, and he will have mercy upon him : and to our God, 
 for he will abundantly pardon." 
 
 Ps. xxxiv. 10. 
 
 " The young lions do lack, and suffer hunger : but they Uiat 
 seek the Lord shall not want any good thing." 
 
*' My God ! is any hour so sweet, 
 
 From blush of morn to evening star, 
 As that which calls me to Thy feet, 
 
 The hour of prayer ? 
 
 " Blest is the tranquil hour of morn, 
 And blest that hour of solemn eve, 
 When, on the wings of prayer upborne, 
 The world I leave. 
 
 " Then is my strength by Thee renewed ; 
 Then are my sins by Thee forgiven ; 
 Then dost thou cheer my solitude 
 
 With hopes of heaven. 
 
 " No words can tell what sweet relief 
 There for my every want I find ; 
 What strength for warfare, balm for grief, 
 What peace of mind. 
 
 •' Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear 
 My spirit seems in heaven to stay ; 
 And e'en the penitential tear 
 
 Is wiped away. 
 
 ** Lord ! till I reach that blissful shore 
 No privilege so dear shall be, 
 As thus my inmost soul to pour 
 
 In prayer to Thee." 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 
 
)Inttot»uction, 
 
 WE have always been affected by the 
 *'^ petition of the disciples to the Sav- 
 iour, "Lord, teach us how to pray." 
 How many yet would fain address the 
 same request, with simplicity and con- 
 scious Y/ant, to Christ ! 
 
 If the first moments of the morning, 
 the very first thoughts of the day are 
 given to prayer, it wdll be found, at least 
 in many cases, to give direction to the 
 feelings of the whole day. The keynote 
 of the day is struck early. And, simple 
 as it may seem, we have forced a few 
 moments in the morning to hold the day 
 to its course, as a rudder does the ship. 
 Some persons, we suspect, fail of interest 
 in prayer by attempting to pray by the 
 clock. They have been taught that a 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 regular time and an appointed place are 
 eminently beneficial. They liave tried 
 the time with so many failures, that the 
 place, by association and memory of ill 
 success, becomes disgustful. We are not 
 about to say that punctuality and rega- 
 larit}^ are not good, but only that they 
 are not alike good for all ; and that when 
 experience shows that they hinder and 
 do not lielp, Christians are under no law 
 to the clock. Persons of regulated feel- 
 ings, of methodical habits, and of uniform 
 occupations, find great advantage in 
 stated hours of prayer. People of mer- 
 curial dispositions, who live without spe- 
 cial arrangement and system, will find, 
 on the contrary, that such attempts at 
 punctuality will not help them, except as 
 an exercise in method and regularity. 
 
 If a man should insist upon wallowing 
 in the sand when the tide was out, be- 
 cause he had made up his mind to bathe 
 in one place and at one hour, he would 
 not be much unlike him who prays when 
 
INTR OB UCTIOK 9 
 
 his watch, and not when his heart, tells 
 him the time. Christians are to remem- 
 ber that they are children of liberty. 
 They are not bound up, as the Jews 
 were, to times and seasons, to places and 
 methods. Prayer may become a yoke 
 of superstition, instead of the wings of 
 liberty. 
 
 It ma}^ be briefly said, take notice of the 
 times when prayer is refreshing. Learn 
 from your own experience how and when 
 praj^er is best for you. You are under 
 bonds to no man, be he minister or lay- 
 man. 
 
 We think that one may very much aid 
 himself, by taking a few moments of his 
 brightest hours for silent prayer. The 
 Jews were taught to present their best 
 fruits for offerings. We should not 
 choose refuse hours, good for nothing 
 else, to pray in. No matter where you 
 are, nor what you are doing, send a 
 glance God ward from the top of every 
 exalted hour — as from a hill-top, a 
 
1 INTR OD UCTIOK 
 
 child, going home, would strive to catch 
 a glimpse of his father's house. In this 
 manner, after a little, the soul would lay 
 up remembrances of many sweet and 
 noble experiences, and would fight dis- 
 couragements by hope drawn from past 
 success. 
 
 We suspect that many persons mar 
 this enjoyment by very erroneous ideas 
 of quantity. They read of eminent 
 Christians who pray by the hour, they 
 hear sermons upon the wrestling of Jacob 
 with the angel, and, above all, they are 
 told that Christ prayed all niglit. They, 
 therefore, attempt immense prayer. Of 
 course, they fail. A man might as well 
 attempt to imitate the old prophets ^who 
 ate in preparation of forty days' fast. If 
 a man is moved to pray only five min- 
 utes, it is bis duty to stop there. If he is 
 moved to pray an hour, he is at liberty to 
 do so. But in every case prayer is to be 
 regulated by your own inward want, and 
 not from the outside by somebody's ex- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 ample. Indeed, we meet every day witli 
 persons who would be injured b}^ long- 
 praying. Tliey have but little to say. 
 If Christ were on earth, and they were 
 disciples, they would listen rather than 
 speak. There is communion by think- 
 ing as well as speaking. There is unut- 
 tered prayer as well as vocal. Thoughts 
 that roll silently are more significant, 
 often, than those which can clothe them- 
 selves in words. It is possible to pray 
 too much. That is always too much 
 which is beyond your real want or de- 
 sire. 
 
 Christians bring themselves into trou- 
 ble by very false ideas of prayer. They 
 select impassioned prayers as models, and 
 judge themselves to be praying in pro- 
 portion as they approach these examples. 
 But what if your wants are few, your 
 feelings tranquil, your thoughts simple, 
 and your whole mind and exiDerience 
 formed upon a diflPerent basis ? Is pray- 
 er some objective exercise to be copied ? 
 
12 introduction: 
 
 or is it the presenting before Grod of just 
 wliat you think, feel, or need ? 
 
 One single sentence is a sufficient praj^- 
 er. There is no one who can not com- 
 mand his thouo-hts lonsj enou2:h for that. 
 If your thoughts wander, the probability 
 is that you are trying to pray too much. 
 Be shorter. Say just as much as there is 
 in you to say. If there is nothing, say 
 nothing ; if little, say little ; silence is bet- 
 ter than mockery. Consider the Lord's 
 Prayer — how short, how simjole ! It 
 contains the whole world's want, and yet 
 a little child can use it. 
 
 Accept prayer as liberty, and not a 
 bondage. Use it in any manner that 
 will be of profit. Go often and tarr}^ 
 but a little, or go and tarry all night, if 
 you will, upon the mount. You pray, if 
 there is but one sentence — Grod be mer- 
 ciful to me a sinner — 'just as freely as if 
 there were a thousand besides. 
 
*' Lord, what a change within us one short hour 
 Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make, 
 What heavy burdens from our bosoms take, 
 What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower ! 
 We kneel, and all around us seems to lower ; 
 We rise, and all the distant and the near, 
 Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear ; 
 We kneel, how weak ! — we rise, how full of power ! 
 Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong. 
 Or others — that we are not always strong, 
 That we are ever overborne with care. 
 That we should ever weak or heartless be, 
 Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer, 
 And joy, and strength, and courage are with Thee ?"' 
 
 The Dean of Westminster. 
 
 " What wondrous grace ! who knows its full extent ? 
 A creature, dust and ashes, speaks with God- 
 Tells all his woes — enumerates his wants — 
 Yea, pleads with Deity, and gains relief. 
 'Tis prayer, yes, 'tis ' efifectual, fervent praj-er,' 
 Puts dignity on worms — proves life divine — 
 Makes demons tremble— breaks the darkest cloud, 
 And with a princely power prevails with God I 
 And shall this privilege become a task ? 
 My God, forbid ! pour out Thy Spirit's grace, 
 Draw me by love, and teach me how to pray. 
 Yea, let Thy holy unction from above, 
 Beget, extend, maintain my intercourse. 
 With Father, Son, and Spirit, Israel's God, 
 Until petitions are exchanged for praise." 
 
 Irons, 
 
(But jFat^cr. 
 
 Gal. iv. 6. 
 " And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of 
 his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father." 
 
 :\lATT. vi. 6-13. 
 '* AVhen thou prayest, enter into thy closet ; and when thou 
 hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret ; 
 and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee 
 openly. But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as 
 the heathen do : for they think that they shall be heard for 
 their much speaking. Be not ye therefore like unto them : 
 for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of before 
 3'e ask him. After this manner therefore pray ye : 
 Our Father, which art in heaven, 
 Hallowed be thy name. 
 Thy kingdom come. 
 Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. 
 Give us this day our daily bread. 
 And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. 
 .\nd lead us not into temptation ; but deliver us from evil : 
 For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, 
 Forever. Amen." 
 
 Ps. ciii. 13. 
 
 " Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth theiu 
 
 that fear him." 
 
' Our God, our Father, with us stay, 
 And make us keep Thy narrow way ; 
 Free us from sin and all its power ; 
 Give us ajoyful dying hour ; 
 DeUver us from Satan's arts, 
 And let us build our hopes on Thee, 
 Down in our very heart of hearts ! 
 O God ! may we true servants be, 
 And serve Thee ever perfectly. 
 Help us, with all Thy children here, 
 To fight and flee with holy fear ; 
 Flee from temptation, and to fight 
 "With Thine own weapons for the right ; 
 Amen, Amen, so let it be ! 
 So shall we ever sing to Thee, 
 
 Hallelujah !" 
 
 Martin Luthkr. 
 
 " Now thank we all our God, 
 
 With heart and hands and voicfcs, 
 Who wondrous tilings hath done, 
 
 In whom His world rejoices ; 
 Who from our mother's arms 
 
 Hath blessed us on our way 
 With countless gifts of love. 
 
 And stilNs ours to-day. 
 
 ** Oh may this bounteous God 
 
 Through all our life be near us, 
 With ever-joyful hearts 
 
 And blessed peace to cheer us ; 
 And keep us in His grace, 
 
 And guide us when perplexed, 
 And free us from all ills 
 
 In tills world and the next. 
 
 *' All praise and thanks to God 
 
 The Father now be given, 
 The Son, and Him who reigns 
 
 With them in highest heaven ; 
 The one Eternal God, 
 
 Whom earth and heaven adore ; 
 For thus it was, is now, 
 
 And shall be evermore !" 
 
''(Bnv JFatfjcr/' 
 
 TN a true Christian's devout aspirations, 
 ^ it is not from instruction or liabit, but 
 from spontaneous impulse, that he ex- 
 claims, " Our Father!"' His thoughts go 
 out after God. His heart yearns for Him. 
 His soul longs, with unutterable longings, 
 for His abiding presence. He comes with, 
 a truly filial spirit before God, and it is 
 perfectly easy and natural for him to say, 
 " Our Father." And he has a right to 
 say it. He is the child of God, and he 
 knows it; for "the Spirit itself beareth 
 witness with our spirits that we are the 
 children of God." Being the child of 
 his Father, and away from his Father s 
 house, he yearns for it, and at times is 
 homesick — as children that are kept at 
 school away from their parents long for 
 
18 ''OUR father:' 
 
 the day of vacation, that they may go 
 home ; and these yearnings are the testi- 
 mony of the Spirit that we are the child- 
 ren of God. The man who has these 
 feehngs, and has them habitually, need 
 not hesitate to call himself a child of 
 God, or to address God as "Our Father." 
 There are some Christians who always 
 seem to .have entire and unwavering faith 
 in God as their Father. They trust in 
 Him to such a degree as to beheve that 
 whatever may be the happenings of Prov- 
 idence, everything will be for the best, 
 and that they will be taken care of, and 
 never left alone. They are confident in 
 Him, and seem never for a moment to 
 doubt. Their cup always rans over, be- 
 cause they always think it runs over. 
 But, on the other hand, there are others 
 who, while they are blessed abundantly, 
 never see or think that they are blessed 
 at all. And this class comprises the mul- 
 titude of men. They call God '' Our 
 Father," only because the Lord's Prayer 
 
''OUR FATHERr 19 
 
 begins so, and not because their own 
 prayer naturally and spontaneously con- 
 fesses that they are His children, and that 
 He is their Father. They have doubts 
 and glooms. They have fightings with- 
 out, and fears within. They allow small 
 things to perplex them, and great things 
 to overwhelm them. They distrust God 
 — not intentionally, but really. They 
 doubt His providence, though they would 
 hardly believe that they doubt. They 
 habitually look on the dark side of 
 things, and excuse themselves for it by 
 saying that they are constitutionally mel- 
 ancholy ; whereas the fault is nothing 
 more nor less than a practical want of 
 faith. It is an unconscious scepticism of 
 God. Men theoretically extol their faith, 
 but practically deny it. They give way 
 before every trouble, instead of conquer- 
 ing it ; and in every dark hour flee for 
 refuge, not to God, but to themselves. 
 
 Now, all Christians, whether hopeful 
 or despondent, are sometimes like the 
 
20 ''OUR father:' 
 
 disciples on tlie Sea of Galilee — driven 
 hither and thither by contrary winds. 
 They toil all the night upon the deep, 
 casting their nets, bnt taking nothing. 
 Kay, oftentimes, their sea is without a 
 Christ walking upon the water, and their 
 ship without a Christ even asleep. Yet 
 when they desire His coming upon the 
 sea, and cry out to Him, they soon see 
 Him walking to them over the waves. 
 When they desire His awakening in the 
 ship, they soon see Him rising to rebuke 
 the wind, saying, "Peace, be still," until 
 there is a great calm. God hides his face 
 only to disclose it again ; and His hidings 
 are oftentimes as full of mercy as His 
 manifested presence. But whether to 
 their feeble-sighted eyes He is present or 
 absent, they may always know that '^ He 
 is not far from them at any time." When 
 there are clouds so that they can not see 
 Him, they may look at Him througli 
 faith, and discern that He is not far off. 
 And as they that go down upon the deep, 
 
''OUR father:' 21 
 
 and are overmastered by storms in the 
 darkness of tlie night, knowing not on 
 what strange shores they may be thrown, 
 cast anchor and wait for day, so in the 
 midst of trial and temptation, when the 
 storm is fierce and the night is dark, 
 when the lights are quenched and the 
 signals gone, they may at least cast an- 
 chor ; and if they wait in faith and hope 
 for the ■ day, it will snrely dawn. The 
 darkness will always hide itself, and the 
 light appear. There never was a night so 
 long that the day did not overtake it. 
 There never was a morning without its 
 morning star. There never was a day 
 without its sun. 
 
 God can reveal himself to His own 
 people as He does not to the world. He 
 can give to every Christian heart, to the 
 timid as well as to the strong, to the 
 sorrowing as well as to the hopeful, 
 those divine intimations, those precious 
 thoughts, those sweet-breathed feelings, 
 which are evidence that His Spirit dwell- 
 
22 ''OUR father:' 
 
 etli in them. He can inspire the heart 
 with that perfect love which casteth out 
 fear. He can take away all doubts and 
 misgivings, all gloomy misapprehensions, 
 all dreary forebodings of the future. He 
 can make sunshine out of shadow, and 
 day out of midnight. When our fears 
 have been like growing thorns in our 
 side. He can pluck away the thorns, and 
 heal the wounds ; and He can turn every 
 spear which has pierced us into a rod and 
 staff, which, instead of wounding, shall 
 support us ; so that the very things which 
 once cast us down may be made to hold 
 us up. He can so deal with us as to 
 make every yoke easy and every burden 
 light ; so that the heavy laden may come 
 to Him to be relieved of their loads. He 
 can touch the fountains of our sorrow, 
 and make our tears like gems and crj^s- 
 tals, more precious than pearls or dia- 
 monds. Our tears are oftentimes among 
 His most precious treasures. The things 
 that we call treasures He counts as of 
 
''OUR father:' 23 
 
 very little worth. The human soul is 
 His treasury, out of which He coins un- 
 speakable riches. Thoughts and feelings, 
 desires and yearnings, faith and hope — 
 these are the most precious things which 
 Grod iinds in us. 
 
 He can do all things for us, whatsoever 
 we need, and more than we need. We 
 are too slow to believe in His generosity. 
 We do not often enough think that as He 
 has infinite desires to help us, so also He 
 has infinite powers. He is able to carry 
 out all that He can ever wish for us. 
 God is not like man. Our means are 
 limited. With us, wishing to possess is 
 far from possessing ; wishing to do is fl^r 
 from doing; but with Him, the wish and 
 the power are one. His desires are fully 
 equalled by His means. He is " able to 
 do exceeding abundantly above all that 
 we can ask or think." Things that are 
 great to us are small to Him. The fa- 
 vours that we ask of Him seem to us to 
 be large and royal ; yet to Him they are 
 
24 ''OUR FATHERS 
 
 very little things. The gifts He has 
 power to bestow are not only greater 
 than we ever ask, but ever can ask, or 
 even think. 
 
 He is always willing to give special 
 grace for special emergency. If men are 
 suddenly brought into trouble. He is "a 
 very present help in time of need." 
 When rich men, by some unexpected re- 
 verse of fortune, are made poor, He can 
 sustain them under their burdens, when 
 without Him they would be utterly 
 crushed. When friends are parted from 
 friends, when families are broken and 
 scattered by death, when the mother loses 
 her child, and weeps because the cradle 
 is no longer to be rocked, and the sweet 
 laugh is hushed in the house, God can 
 give "the oil of joy for mourning.'' 
 Whenever His children suffer disappoint- 
 ment, when clouds cast shadows over 
 their path, when troubles brood heavily 
 before them, when they are in trials of 
 business or in greater trials of bereave- 
 
''OUR FATHERr 25 
 
 ment, He can take oft tlie heavy weiglits. 
 He can make tlie rougli places smooth, 
 and the crooked ^YaYS straight. When 
 sorrow comes that seems to forbid all 
 consolation, He can gently wipe away the 
 tears, and bring back joy and hope once 
 more. 
 
 He is a physician who only waits to 
 be called ; He is a friend who longs to be 
 trusted ; He is a helper who only wants 
 US to ask His aid. But He wants us to 
 ask Him heartily and truthfully. He 
 wishes us to reach up our hand, and take 
 covenant by His hand. He desires us to 
 cast our care upon Him, for He careth 
 for us. He commands us to confide en- 
 tirely in Him. He wants us to have no 
 liesitancy in our faith. 
 
 And this is reasonable. It is what 
 men ask every day of their own child- 
 ren. A father expects his child to con- 
 fide in him. A child expects to trust 
 freely in his father. And we ought to 
 go to God, being His children, with less 
 
26 ''OUR FATHER." 
 
 distrust and more confidence. We ought 
 to take Him at His word, and to have 
 faith in His promises. If He has said, 
 " I will never leave thee nor forsake 
 thee," we ought boldly to say, "The 
 Lord is my helper ; I will not fear what 
 man shall do unto me." 
 
 But when we borrow trouble, and look 
 forward into the future to see what 
 storms are coming, and distress ourselves 
 before they come as to how we shall 
 avert them if they ever do come, we lose 
 our proper trustfulness in God. When 
 we torment ourselves with imaginary 
 dangers, or trials, or reverses, we have 
 already parted with that perfect love 
 which casteth out fear. Mothers some- 
 times fret themselves, and are made mis- 
 erable about the future career of their 
 children — whether they will turn out 
 drunkards or not, whether they will go 
 to the gallows or not, whether they will 
 be a disgrace to their parentage or not. 
 Now, all this is simply an evidence of a 
 
''OUR father:' 27 
 
 lack of faith. There are many persons 
 in good health, with all their faculties in 
 active exercise, who, having nothing else 
 to worry about, rob themselves of sleep 
 at night by thinking, '' if they should 
 suddenly be taken awa}^, what would be- 
 come of their families, and who would 
 take care of their children ?" Such dis- 
 trust of God is dishonourable to Cliristian 
 men ; and it is only because of His ex- 
 ceeding patience — which is the most 
 wonderful attribute of the Divine nature 
 — that He does not signally rebuke and 
 punish it whenever it is manifested. 
 When persons are taken sick, they ought 
 to bear it with a good grace ; but nine 
 out of ten, even among Christian men, 
 repine and murmur. 
 
 When they are visited with any trou- 
 ble, their first thought is apt to be, " How 
 grievously I am afflicted !" though the 
 nobler thought would be, "How gra- 
 ciously I am sustained !" When a cross 
 is laid upon them, they cry out, " What a 
 
28 ''OUR father:] 
 
 burden I have to carry !" wliereas they 
 might better say, "What a burden Christ 
 carries for me!" A Christian sailor, who 
 lost one of his legs in the battle of Tra- 
 falgar, said that he could very often 
 measure the faith of the people who con- 
 versed with him by the way in which 
 they alluded to his misfortune. Nine 
 out of every ten would exclaim, " What 
 a pity that you lost your leg?" and only 
 one in ten, "What a blessing that the 
 other was preserved !" When God comes 
 into the family and takes away one child, 
 instead of complaining because He has 
 taken one, it would be wiser to thank 
 Him that He has left the rest. Or He 
 may crush a man's business, and strip 
 him of all his worldly wealth, and yet 
 leave untouched and uninvaded what is 
 dearer than all — the cradle of his only 
 child. Would it not be nobler for such 
 a man to be thankful for what God left 
 than to murmur for what He took away ? 
 " The Lord givcth, and the Lord taketh 
 
^'OXm FATREUr 29 
 
 away," but He always gives more than 
 He takes away. If God robs a man of 
 bis riches, He leaves bim bis bealtb, 
 wbicb is better than ricbes. If He takes 
 bealtb, He leaves wealth. If He takes 
 both, He leaves friends. And if He 
 takes all these — house, and home, and 
 worldly goods — God's providence is not 
 yet exhausted, and He can make bless- 
 ings out of other things which remain. 
 He never strips a man entirely bare. A 
 man may be left a beggar upon the high- 
 way, and yet be able to give unceasing 
 testimony to God's goodness and grace. 
 If men were to give thanks to God for 
 what He permits them to have, rather 
 than to utter complaints for what He 
 wisely and graciously withholds. He 
 might not unlikely give to them more 
 abundantly, if for no other reason than 
 to increase their gratitude. An old man, 
 who is now without home or friends, a 
 stranger in a strange land, who earns a 
 scanty crust of bread, day by day, by 
 
30 ''OUR FATEERr 
 
 selling steel-pens and writing-paper from 
 street to street, said the other day, that 
 though he had several times been so re- 
 duced as to be for a period of forty-eight 
 hours and longer without a morsel to eat, 
 he never lost his trust in Providence, and 
 always rebuked himself whenever he 
 complained at his lot ! This man's faith 
 was genuine I He was a hero in rags, 
 greater than many a hero in armour ! 
 
 God's goodness is large and generous ; 
 only our faith in it is small and mean. 
 He carries the whole globe in His 
 thoughtful providence, easier than a 
 mother carries a babe in her arms. If 
 we cannot see the end from the begin- 
 ning, what matters it so long as He sees 
 it? What have we to do but to seek 
 first the kingdom of God and His right- 
 eousness, and leave the rest in faith to 
 Him? 
 
 We ought not to forget that an affec- 
 tionate, confiding, tender faith, habitu- 
 ally exercised, would save us half the an- 
 
''OUR father:' 31 
 
 noyances of life, for it would lift us up 
 above the reacli of them. If an eagle were 
 to fly low along the ground, every man 
 might aim a dart at it, but when it soars 
 into the clouds, it is above every arrow's 
 reach. And they that trust in God 
 "shall mount up with wings as eagles; 
 they shall run and not be weary ; and 
 they shall walk and not faint." Christ's 
 invitation is — " Come unto me, all ye that 
 labour and are heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, 
 and learn of me; for I am meek and 
 lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest 
 unto your soul. For my yoke is easy, 
 and my burden is light.'' 
 
(H^o^i'n rrntrtr JHctrcs. 
 
 Ps. ciii. S-10. 
 ' The Lord is merciful and gi-acious, slow to anger, and plente- 
 ous in mercy. He will not always chide ; neither will he 
 keep his anger for ever. He hath not dealt with us after 
 our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities." 
 
 Ps. xxxvi. 7-9. 
 '• IIow excellent is thy loving-kindness, God ! therefore the 
 children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy 
 wings. They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness 
 of thy house^; and thou shalt make them drink of the river 
 of thy pleasures. For with thee is the fountain of life : in 
 thy light shall we see light." 
 
 Ps. xxiii. 
 
 • The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketli n.e 
 to lie down in green pastures : he leadeth me beside the still 
 waters. He restoreth my soul : he leadeth me in the patlis 
 of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk 
 through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 
 evil : for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they com- 
 fort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence 
 of mine enemies : thou anointest my head with oil ; my cuji 
 runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me 
 all the days of my life ; and I will dwell in the house of the 
 Lord for ever." 
 
 Ps. Lxxxvi. 5, 6. 
 
 ' For thou. Lord, art good, and ready to forgive ; and plenteous 
 in mercy unto all them that call upon thee. Give ear, 
 Lord, unto my prayer ; and attend.to the voice of my sup- 
 plications." 
 
 MiCAH vii. IS, 19. 
 
 ■'"Who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth inUiuity, and 
 passeth by the transgression of the remnant of his heritage':' 
 he retaineth not his anger for ever, because he delighteth )n 
 me^CJ^ He will turn again, he will have compassion upon 
 us ; he will subdue our iniquities : and thou wilt cas* »U their 
 sins into the depths of the sea." 
 
•* What a gracious God have we ! 
 In His gifts of grace how free ! 
 How intent our prayers to hear, 
 And to them that pray how near t 
 How to balmy mercy prone, 
 And to kind compassion ! 
 How regardfully He wakes 
 For His chosen servants' sakes ! 
 How He gives them grace to pray, 
 And then to their suits give way ! 
 How He prompts each good desire. 
 And blows up that spark to fire. 
 He hath set no greater task 
 To obtain of Him but ' Ask.' 
 No e.xacter search to find, 
 But to seek with humble mind ; 
 No more pains heaven to unlock, 
 But with spotless hand to knock — 
 Yet he joys to see man press Him, 
 And to wrestle till He bless him." 
 
 " Preserve, Lord ! within our hearts 
 The memory of Thy favour, 
 That else insensibly departs. 
 And loses its sweet savour ! 
 Lodge it within ug ! As the power of light 
 Lives inexhaustibly in precious gems 
 Fixed on the front of eastern diadems, 
 go shine our thankfulness for ever bright." 
 
 WoRDSwoaxa 
 
Jcf /cM M W. ^3V lJ3^ ^3^ 
 
 <K5ioti'H CnttJcr plertg. 
 
 TTOW strange it seems to fall upon 
 -'-'- those wonderful lyrics in tlie psalms 
 of David, singing to us out of tlie rude 
 ages of tlie past, where we naturally ex- 
 pect liarshness and. severity ! How won- 
 derful that our age should go back to this 
 old warrior to learn tenderness ! — that the 
 most exquisite views of Divine compas- 
 sion should spring forth from the world's 
 untrained periods, from Moses, the shep- 
 herd and legislator of the desert, and 
 from David, the sweet singer of Israel, 
 whose hand was mightiest among the 
 mighty, whether laid upon the strings of 
 the bow or of the harp ! 
 
 Xoble old warrior ! Thou didst send 
 dismay to thine enemies, and breathe joy 
 among thy friends. Thy bow abode in 
 
36 GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 
 
 strength, and thine arrows were terrible 
 in the day of battle. But those silver 
 shafts of song, from a lyre surpassing the 
 fabled sweetness of Apollo's, have sped 
 through the dusky years, through thou- 
 sands of them, and are flying yet ; not 
 for wounding, but for life and healing. 
 
 If we remember the times of David, 
 we shall be no less surprised at the ripe- 
 ness of the views of God which he gives, 
 their symmetry and all-sidedness, gentle 
 without moral weakness, and strong with- 
 out harshness ; building up the Divine 
 glory in justice and truth, and walling 
 it about with majesty and stability. But 
 then, as in a garden enclosed with mighty 
 walls, O Psalmist, thou didst cover the 
 bosom of God with flowers and fruits, 
 and make the thought of Ilim sweeter 
 to the fainting soul than all the breath 
 of flowers or sound of cooling waters ! 
 
 As but a few years intervened between 
 the era of David and of Homer — not the 
 measure of a man's lifetime — it is inter- 
 
GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 37 
 
 esting to observe the views whicli they 
 held, synchronously, of the character of 
 God. While David was filling Jerusalem 
 with these matchless lyrics. Homer, the 
 blind wanderer of Grreece, whom the 
 world has since made a universal citi- 
 zen, was singing of the Grecian gods. 
 If any one would know the glory of the 
 Hebrew bard, let him contrast the Psalms 
 of David with Homeric representations 
 of God. How could Greece be so dark 
 when such a star shone over Mount 
 Zion ? How could Olympus be so mean 
 while Sinai flamed with such o'randeur ? 
 Living in the same day, a thousand years 
 of religion divided them. Our hearts de- 
 cide in a moment which was the true 
 prophet, and the teacher of the true God. 
 
 Let us select from. David's chants but 
 the single strain — God's Tender Mercy. 
 
 Pity is a mode or particular develop- 
 ment of benevolence. It is sympathy 
 for persons on account of weakness or 
 suffering. It is not mere compassion, 
 
38 GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 
 
 but is mingled with a desire to aid and 
 relieve. Pitj and compassion are the 
 antitheses of those affections by which 
 we take hold of men who are good, 
 lovely, desirable for their grace of noble- 
 ness and purity ; or of those who are pros- 
 perous, strong, and happy. For such, to 
 be sure, we have a lively sympathy, but 
 it is of a different sort. God has gladness 
 for those who are glad, and pity for those 
 who are sad. 
 
 The pity of Grod, as disclosed in this 
 psalm, is the working out of the whole 
 Divine nature of goodness toward the 
 human family, in their unformed, imma- 
 ture, sinful, struggling existence. The 
 race was not born perfect — men were 
 sown as seeds are. They come of germs, 
 turn to leaves, shoot forth a slender stem^ 
 grow little by little to branches, and find 
 firmness and solidity only after a long 
 probation of weakness, temptation, sin, 
 and all its sorrows. This is true of in- 
 dividual men. It is true historically of 
 
OOD'S TENDER MERCY. 39 
 
 mankind. The need of compassion for 
 the race has been just as great as is the 
 need in every household of compassion 
 towards babes and young children. It is 
 still the need of each man and of the 
 whole world. 
 
 As much crime as there is, calling for 
 punishment — as much deliberate wrong, 
 to be met by deliberate justice — as much 
 licence as there is, and overflowing pas- 
 sion and desolating lust — there is even 
 more ignorance, mistake, sorrowful weak- 
 ness, and unwitting evil. The world 
 wanders like a half-grown orphan, call- 
 ing for aid without answer, and weeps 
 for trouble, and wanders still, stumbling 
 through ages. And though it needs re- 
 proof and correction, it needs kindness 
 more. Though it needs the grasp of the 
 strong hand, it needs, too, the open palm 
 of love and tenderness. It requires pun- 
 ishment ; but it needs pity even more 
 than avenging justice. 
 
 While, therefore, the Divine character 
 
40 GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 
 
 drawn in the Bible hatli great depth of 
 shadow in justice, all its salient points 
 stand forth in the high lights of love and 
 mercy ! God is full of near, real, over- 
 flowing, and inexhaustible compassion 
 for man ! 
 
 But it is declared that God's pity is not 
 simply pity — it is a father^ s pity. 
 
 If a man be found weltering by the 
 road, wounded, and a stranger comes who 
 never before had even seen him, he will 
 pity him. No matter if born under a 
 different heaven, or speaking a different 
 tongue, or worshipping at a different 
 altar, he pities him; for the heart of 
 man speaks one language the world over, 
 and suffering wakes compassion. 
 
 But if, instead of being a stranger, it 
 were a near neighbour, how much more 
 and more tender the pity, as he ran to 
 his help ! But if, instead of one who 
 stood only in the of&ces of general and 
 neia:hbourhood kindness, it were a strong; 
 personal friend — yea, a brother — how 
 
GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 41 
 
 much more intense would be the throb- 
 bing emotion of tenderness and ^\tj ! 
 
 Bat all these fade away before the 
 wild outcry of the man's own father, 
 who would give his life for his son, and 
 who gives pitj-, now, not by measure, 
 but with such a volume that it is as if a 
 soul were gushing out in all its life ! 
 
 But the noblest heart on earth is but a 
 trickling stream from a faint a,nd wast- 
 ing fountain, compared with the ineffable 
 soul and heart of God, the everlasting 
 Father ! The pity of Grod is like a fa- 
 ther's, in all that is tender, strong, and 
 full, but not in scope and power. For 
 every one of God's feelings moves in the 
 sphere of the infinite. His pity has all 
 the scope and divinity which belong to 
 power, wisdom, justice ! Yea, jDOwer, 
 wisdom, and justice are God's lesser 
 ways, and come towards that side of 
 His being where there would be restric- 
 tion, if anywhere ; while love and mercy 
 are God's peculiar glory. In these He 
 
42 GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 
 
 finds the most glorious liberty of tlie Di- 
 vine nature. 
 
 Nothing so soon wears out and ex- 
 hausts men as deep feelings and strong 
 sympathies, especially those which have 
 in them an element of pain, as |)ity hath. 
 Our life requires to be broken in two 
 each day, and replanted, that it may 
 spring up again from sleep, as new blos- 
 soms out of soil. "We are buried every 
 night for a resurrection of each morning; 
 and thus our life is not a continuous line, 
 unbroken, but a series of lives and 
 deaths, of deaths and births. 
 
 But Grod, in His almightiness, asks no 
 rest and requires no slumber, but holds 
 straight on without weariness, wearing 
 out the ages. Himself unworn ; changing 
 all things. Himself without variableness 
 or shadow of turning 1 God is like the 
 sun at noon, that casts down straight 
 rays, and so throws down the shadows 
 upon the ground underneath each tree ; 
 but He never, like the sun, goes west- 
 
GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 43 
 
 ward towards his setting, turning all 
 shadows from under the trees, and slant- 
 ing them upon the ground. Grod stands 
 in eternal fulness, like a sun that knows 
 neither morning, nor evening, nor night, 
 but only noon, and noon always ! 
 
 God's pity abides, even as He abides, 
 and partakes of the Divine grandeur and 
 omnipotence. There is a whole eternity 
 in it for substance and duration. As God 
 himself cannot be measured with lines of 
 latitude and longitude, but is boundless, 
 so is His every attribute. His pity is in- 
 finite, moving with equal step to all the 
 other attributes of God, and holding its 
 course and path as far forth as omni- 
 science doth ; it paces with omnipresence 
 along the circuits of infinity ! For as 
 heaven is high above the earth, so great 
 is His mercy towards them that fear Him. 
 As far as the east is from the west, so far 
 hath He removed our transgressions from 
 us! 
 
 God's pity is not as some sweet cordial, 
 
44 GO US TENDER MEROY. 
 
 poured in dainty drops from a golden 
 phial. It is not like tlie musical water- 
 drops of some slender rill, murmuring 
 down the dark sides of Mount Sinai. It 
 is wide as the whole cope of heaven. It 
 is abundant as all the air. If one had 
 art to gather up all the golden sunlight 
 that to-da}^ falls wide over all this conti- 
 nent — falling through every silent hour ; 
 and all that is dispersed over the whole 
 ocean, flashing from every wave ; and all 
 that is poured refulgent over the northern 
 wastes of ice, and along the whole conti- 
 nent of Europe, and the vast outlying- 
 Asia, and torrid Africa ; if one could in 
 anywise gather up this immense and in- 
 calculable ou.tflow and treasure of sun- 
 light that falls down through the bright 
 hours, and runs in liquid ether about the 
 mountains, and fills all the plains, and 
 sends innumerable rays through every 
 secret place, pouring over and filling 
 every flower, shining down the sides of 
 every blade of grass, resting in glorious 
 
GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 45 
 
 humility upon, the humblest things — on 
 stick, and stone, and pebble; on the 
 spider's web, the sparrow's nest, the 
 threshold of the young foxes' hole, 
 where they play and warm themselves ; 
 — that rests on the prisoner's window, 
 that strikes radiant beams through the 
 slave's tear, that puts gold upon the 
 widow's weeds, that plates and roofs the 
 city with burnished gold, and goes on in 
 its wild abundance up and down the 
 earth, shining everywhere and always, 
 since the day of primal creation, without 
 faltering, without stint, without waste or 
 diminution ; as full, as fresh, as overflow- 
 ing to-day as if it were the very first day 
 of its outplay — if one might gather up 
 this boundless, endless, infinite treasure, 
 to measure it, then might he tell the 
 height and depth, and unending glory 
 of the pity of God ! The light, and the 
 sun its source, are God's own figures of 
 the immensity and copiousness of His 
 mercy and compassion (Ps. Ixxxiv. 11. 
 12 ; Isa. Iv. 6-13.) 
 
46 GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 
 
 This Divine pity applies to us on ac- 
 count of our weakness. God looks upon 
 our littleness, as compared with His an- 
 gels that excel in strength, much, it may 
 be supposed, as we look upon little child- 
 ren as compared with grown-up men. 
 
 Divine pity is also exercised in view 
 of our sufferings, both of body and of 
 mind. We sometimes fear to bring our 
 troubles to God, because they must seem 
 so small to Him who sitteth on the circle 
 of the earth. But if they are large enough 
 to vex and endanger our welfare, they 
 are large enough to touch His heart of 
 love. For love does not measure by a 
 merchant's scales, nor with a surveyor's 
 chain. It hath a delicacy which is un- 
 known in any handling of material sub- 
 stances. 
 
 It sometimes seems as if God cared for 
 nothing. The wicked are at ease. The 
 good are vexed incessantly. The world 
 is full of misrule and confusion. The 
 darling of the flock is always made the 
 
GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 47 
 
 sacrifice. Some child in tlie very midst 
 of its glee becomes suddenly silent — as a 
 music-box, its spring giving way, stops 
 in the midst of its strain, and never plays 
 out tlie melody. The mother staggers, 
 and wanders blindly as though day and 
 night were mingled into one, and struck 
 through with preternatural influence of 
 woe. But think not that God's silence is 
 coldness or indifference ! When Christ 
 stood by the dead, the silence of tears in- 
 terpreted His sympathy more wonderfully 
 than even that voice which afterwards 
 called back the footsteps of the brother 
 from the grave, and planted them in life 
 again 1 When birds are on the nest, pre- 
 paring to bring forth life, they never 
 sing. God's stillness is full of brooding. 
 Kot one tear shall be shed by you that 
 does not hang heavier at His heart than 
 any world upon His hand ! 
 
 Be not impatient of God. Your sorrow 
 is a seed sown. Shall a seed come up in 
 a day, or come up all in blossom when it 
 
48 GOD'S TENDER MERCY. 
 
 does spring ? Let God plant your sor- 
 rows, and water and till them according 
 to His own husbandry. By and by, when 
 you gather their fruit, it will be time to 
 judge His mercy. Now, no affliction 
 " for the present seemeth. to be joyous, 
 but grievous : nevertheless afterward it 
 yieldeth. the peaceable fruit of righteous- 
 ness unto them which, are exercised there- 
 by." Trouble is like any other crop. It 
 needs time for growing, for blossoming, 
 and for fruiting. 
 
** Songs of glory to my God 
 In the desert shall be heard ! 
 There is comfort in Thy rod, 
 
 Power in Thy reproving word. 
 In a spirit all Thine own, 
 Make Thy hardest sayings known. 
 They will gird me with Thy strength. 
 Bear me all my journey's length ; 
 Give me for the daily strife, 
 Joy, and health, and plenteous life. 
 Hid within for precious fruit, 
 Love shall take eternal root- 
 Love that in the Spirit lives ; 
 Love that grows by all it gives. 
 'Neath a rule so firm to bless, 
 I shall learn Thy gentleness ; 
 Shew it forth in all I do- 
 Making others feel it too." 
 
 A. L. W. 
 
Kf^t JXtanon of Uta^n*. 
 
 Psalm Ixxxix. 5-8. 
 " And the heavens shall praise thy wonders, Lord : thy faith- 
 fulness also in the congregation of the saints. For who in 
 the heaven can be compared unto the Lord ? Who among 
 the mighty can b6 compared unto the Lord ? God is great- 
 ly to be feared in the assembly of the saints, and to be had 
 in reverence of all them that are about him. Lord God 
 of hosts, who is a strong Lord like unto thee ? or to thy 
 faithfulness round about thee ?" 
 
 Psalm xlvi. 1-5. 
 " God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. 
 Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, 
 and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the 
 sea ; though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though 
 the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah. 
 There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the 
 city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most 
 High. God is in the midst of her ; she shall not be moved : 
 God shall help her, and that right early." 
 
 Daniel ii. 20-22. 
 " Ble.ssed be the name of God for ever and ever : for wisdom 
 and might are his : and he changeth the times and the sea- 
 sons : he removeth kings, and setteth up kings : he giveth 
 wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them that know 
 understanding : he revealeth the deep and secret things : 
 he knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light dwelleth 
 with him." 
 
 Isaiah xxvi. 4. 
 
 " Trust ye in the Lord for ever : for in the Lord Jehovah ia 
 
 everlasting strength." 
 
" God of my life, to Thee I call ; 
 Afflicted at Thy feet I fall ; 
 When the great water-floods prevail, 
 Leave not my trembling heart to fail. 
 
 *' Friend of the friendless and the faint ! 
 Where should I lodge my deep complaint ? 
 Where but with Thee, whose open door, 
 Invites the helpless and the poor ! 
 
 *' Did ever mourner plead with Thee 
 And Thou refuse that mourner's plea ? 
 Does not the word still fixM remain, 
 That none shall seek Thy face in vain ? 
 
 " That were a grief I could not bear, 
 Didst Thou not hear and answer prayer ; 
 But a prayer-hearing, answering God, 
 Supports me under every load. 
 
 *• Fair is the lot that's cast for me ; 
 I have an advocate with Thee ; 
 They whom the world caresses most, 
 Have no such privilege to boast. 
 
 **Poor though I am, despised, forgot, 
 Yet God, my God, forgets me not ; 
 And he is safe, and must succeed, 
 Foi whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead." 
 
 COWPEO, 
 
m)t ^tamn of J^rasrr. 
 
 rpHE human mind tends to pass from 
 i one extreme of truth to the other. 
 The mind of communities touches both 
 extremities before it settles down at the 
 intermediate point of truth. There is 
 no great truth which, being pressed far 
 enough in one direction, will not meet 
 another bearing up against it from the 
 opposite. There is, for instance, the 
 truth of man's liberty; press it far 
 enough, and it will be met and restrain- 
 ed by the equal truth of man's depend- 
 ence. The truth of man's individuality ; 
 press it to a certain distance, and it will 
 meet another trutb, equally certain — 
 man's associated life. There is the truth 
 of the necessity of helping men, and' the 
 other truth, just as important, that if you 
 
54 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 help them you will destroy them; for 
 there is nothing worse than help which 
 impairs the disposition of men to help 
 themselves, and nothing so bad as not to 
 help them when they need help. There 
 is also the doctrine of free agency, and 
 the counter-doctrine of dependence upon 
 God. There is no one great line of 
 thought which, being pursued at length, 
 does not meet another coming from 
 the opposite ; and a man's mind should 
 stand at the centre of the wheel, and all 
 truths should come to it from every side 
 as the spokes of one great wheel. 
 
 It is on this account that men vibrate 
 between two extremes ; and only after 
 wide investigation that they take in all 
 truth. 
 
 Before men had learned much of the 
 globe, and of physical laws, they were 
 guided, in assigning causes for the effects 
 which they witnessed, by their venera- 
 tion and imagination. When the imag- 
 ination, instead of reason, guides igno- 
 
THE EEASOy OF PLAYER. 55 
 
 rant men, tliey are almost always wont 
 to ascribe effects, whose causes are not 
 visible, to spiritual influence, infernal or 
 supernal. The progress of observation 
 and investigation drives men from these 
 superstitious notions, and one effect af- 
 ter another is wrested from the supposed 
 agency of spirits, and becomes affixed to 
 its natural cause. This was the case 
 with celestial appearances — the comets, 
 the Aurora Borealis. This was the case 
 also in a great measure with diseases. 
 It is not long since pestilences, plagues, 
 and many special forms of disease, such 
 as leprosy, and many varieties of convul- 
 sive disease which affected the nervous 
 system, were regarded by the medical 
 faculty, and by the Church itself, as the 
 results of spiritual or super naturiil causes. 
 It is only since the art of printing that 
 these notions have been in a measure 
 done away. I remember, in my own 
 day, very long sermons to prove that the 
 cholera did not depend on natural agen- 
 
50 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 cies, but tbat Grod held it in his haud, 
 and dropped it down upon the world. 
 
 There is no doubt that there are moral 
 results to be wrought out by all these 
 natural phenomena, but it was held that 
 they were produced by preternatural 
 means. It is not many ages since a man 
 would have been expelled from any 
 sound church if he did not believe that 
 diseases resulted from the direct exercise 
 of Divine power, instead of intermediate 
 causation ; and that healing was to be ef- 
 fected only through some form of spirit- 
 ual incantation. 
 
 The same was true of the common 
 events of familiar life. Men saw evi- 
 dence of the agency of good and of bad 
 spirits around them, at all times, and in 
 every minute event. Since the world 
 began this has been common ; and it is 
 no commoner now than ever before. 
 Men have always been watching with 
 superstitious fear, lest, some charm being 
 forgotten, lurking mischief should gain 
 advantasre of them. 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER. 5 7 
 
 The growth of natural science has 
 tended very much to sweep away such 
 views ; first, from philosophical minds ; 
 gradually as general information increas- 
 ed, from the minds of all well-informed 
 common men : and now, in the immense 
 progress of science and the diffusion of a 
 knowledge of it among the common peo- 
 ple, there is a very marked tendency to 
 go to the opposite extreme, and not only 
 to refer each special effect to a corre- 
 sponding natural cause, but to deny that 
 there are any effects which, are the re- 
 sults of Divine volition. Some men are 
 ready to say that all things are effects 
 of physical causes, and that there is no 
 immediate Divine volition exerted upon 
 natural laws. This is as monstrous in 
 science, as it is absurd in religion. If 
 men take the premise that all effects to 
 be expected in this world are provided 
 for in organised natural laws, and that 
 there are none which result from Divine 
 efficiency, they must go through with all 
 
58 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 the conclusions. They must hold that 
 human intelligence is our only guide in 
 this world, or, in other words, is the only 
 God of natural powers ; they must argue 
 that no man will be helped in this world 
 except so far as he helps himself, by find- 
 ing out the paths of nature and walking 
 in them — a falsehood which is all the 
 worse because it is half true. For in 
 makino' an axe, the head is of iron and 
 the edge of steel ; but the head is the 
 larger and heavier part, while the edge 
 is but a narrow strip. So with such a 
 falsehood ; the greater part of it is true, 
 but this is made only to add weight and 
 power to the cutting edge, which is false. 
 They must declare that the belief in a 
 special and particular providence is a su- 
 perstition ; that God works by laws, and 
 that He never interferes with or uses 
 them. They must believe that, conse- 
 quently, prayer is a mere poetic exercise ; 
 good to those that like it, only because 
 it reacts upon their feelings, and soothes 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER. 59 
 
 and calms them. They must suppose 
 that prayers which the heathen write, 
 and which the wind offers up for them 
 by turning a wheel, like a mill, are as ef- 
 fectual on the laws of nature as an hum- 
 ble Christian's prayer. They must hold 
 that the doctrine of miracles is to be 
 given np, as nothing but a superlative 
 superstition. And for this matter, such 
 men usually do teach that miracles al- 
 ways happened in dark ages, among ig- 
 norant men ; that many of the same re- 
 sults can now be produced by scientific 
 causes; and that a belief in them, as ef- 
 fects divinely produced, is unworthy of 
 an enlightened philosopher. 
 
 I need not say how far men have drift- 
 ed away from the Kew Testament who 
 have reached this ground. Such, a man 
 is not only not a Christian, but whatever 
 natural religion he may have, if he be 
 consistent, he must reject the New Tes- 
 tament altogether, as an authoritative 
 guide, and give himself up to nature and 
 
60 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 reason. For if there be one truth more 
 especially taught in the Bible than an- 
 other, it is the fact of God's activity and 
 influence in human life. If there ever 
 comes a day in which it can be shewn 
 by science that there is no active inter- 
 ference of the Divine creative will in the 
 special affairs of men, science in that day 
 will demolish the New Testament. When 
 it can be scientifically demonstrated that 
 no more effects are wrought in this world 
 by the intentional interposition of Divine 
 volition, than those which fall out in the 
 way of ordinary and unhelped natural 
 causation, in that day, I am free to say, 
 the New Testament will be overthrown. 
 It will be regarded as an amiable book, 
 but one whose doctrines have been refut- 
 ed, and are passed away. 
 
 This doctrine of the presence and act- 
 ual interference of God in the world, pro- 
 ducing effects which would not have fall- 
 en out otherwise, is taught in the Bible 
 as against idolatry, as against naturalism, 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER. 61 
 
 (in tlie early chapters of John,) as the ar- 
 gnment and foundation of prayer, of cour- 
 age, of patience, and of hope, and as a 
 special development, among others, of 
 the incarnation of Christ to bring to light 
 the reality of God, who wrought invisi- 
 bly in life and nature, both before and 
 since. 
 
 It is to be admitted that this globe and 
 its inhabitants are included in a system 
 of physical laws ; that these are, in their 
 nature, unchanged and unchangeable ; 
 that they are incapable of increase or de- 
 crease; that they are sufficient for all 
 ordinary purposes of human life ; that 
 the welfare and happiness of men depend 
 largely upon a wise employment of them ; 
 and that the progress of the race is large- 
 ly to be effected by their wise application 
 of them. Not only would I cast no ob- 
 stacle in the way of scientific research, 
 but I hail it as the great almoner of 
 God's bounty. Men should be instruct- 
 ed to become better acquainted with the 
 
62 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 laws and influences whicti operate npon 
 both tlae bod}^ and tbe mind, and upon 
 the natural world. Men will never be 
 as good Christians as they ought, nntil 
 they know more perfectly how their 
 bodies are put together, and what is in 
 their own minds, and the natural laws 
 of the one and of the other. Science is 
 yet to interpret Scripture in many re- 
 spects ; and I am persuaded that all the 
 most characteristic elements of revealed 
 or inspired truth will in the end be cor- 
 roborated, and not harmed, by the prog- 
 ress of natural science. I believe in 
 everything that is true. I am not neces- 
 sarily to believe in everything that pre- 
 tends to be true ; but when anything is 
 proved, whatever it overturns, I am 
 bound to it by the allegiance with which 
 I am bound to Grod ! He that denies 
 the truth in or out of the Bible, denies 
 God! 
 
 The progress of science lays a surer 
 foundation for a belief in God's active in- 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER. 63 
 
 terference in human affairs than has ex- 
 isted without it. When maturer fruits 
 of investigation shall be had, there can 
 be no doubt that science itself will estab- 
 lish our faith in prayer, in miracles, and 
 in special providence. 
 
 There are respects in which natural 
 laws are beyond the reach of all human 
 interference and control. There are 
 spheres in which light and heat cannot 
 be touched and controlled. There are 
 various attractions which perform in 
 their own way their own work, beyond 
 man's guidance or reach — such are the 
 great laws which bind together the stel- 
 lar universe. Great currents and pas- 
 sages of natural powers are put entirely 
 beyond man's hand. But it is just as 
 certain that there are, also, in God's 
 system of nature, another class of laws 
 which come close to us, and whose office 
 is, or seems to be, to minister to human 
 life. They are either modifications of 
 great laws, or they are separate laws. 
 
64 THE liEASON OF PRAYER 
 
 And in respect to these I affirm that 
 they are not fructified, and do not per- 
 form their function, till they are controll- 
 ed by human volition. God has made 
 the agencies which concern human life 
 to be of such a nature that the htiinan 
 mind is necessary to the full de^veloj)- 
 ment and greatest fruitfxdness of nat- 
 'ural laws. It is supposed by many that 
 a natural law is perfect in itself; where- 
 as it is perfected, in many instances, only 
 when it is permeated by human volition. 
 Electricity, for instance, plays a round 
 of its own. It has its own pastures, and 
 its own great running grounds. It per- 
 forms a large function, unknown, beyond 
 our reach, and without our knowledge. 
 But so far as ordinary purposes of civil- 
 ised life are concerned, electricity does 
 nothing till we have taught it how to 
 serve us ; then it runs swifter races for 
 human convenience than ever were run 
 before. When the mind takes hold of 
 it, electricity becomes a patient drudge ; 
 
THE REASON OF PRATER. 65 
 
 SO that we now work by lightning, 
 which would never have done a single 
 thing for us if it had not been harnessed 
 by the human mind. But now, above 
 the sea, and under the sea ere long, it 
 shall carry the messages of nations, flash- 
 ing from the East to the West, proclaim- 
 ing war or heralding peace, and perform- 
 ing the great offices of civilisation. When 
 man takes it by the head and says, " Ee- 
 ceive my bridle," and throws over it the 
 saddle, and says, " Take me for your 
 rider," it becomes patient and submissive, 
 and acknowledges man as its master. 
 
 Light performs a great amount of 
 work, — whether we are waking or sleep- 
 ing; in its vast journeys through the 
 universe — in its sun-flashes and moon-re- 
 flections ; but man's mind seizes this law, 
 and does what Phaeton could not, drives 
 it. We have it in our dwelling. We 
 make it work along our coasts. We di- 
 vide it, and set it at work in the garden 
 and on the farm. We give it the power 
 
66 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 of a living pencil, and make it draw ar- 
 tists' pictures. And yet we are in the 
 midst of a carping set of philosophers 
 who say that we can obey natural laws, 
 but cannot control them. "We do con- 
 trol them. 
 
 Water has a certain round of grand ef- 
 fects, and these are performed whether a 
 creature looks on or not. The ocean 
 never asks man what it may do with its 
 own waves and upon its own domain ! 
 The old Polar Sea — tlie only mystery 
 now left among the oceans of the globe — 
 has rolled for ages, by day and night, by 
 summer and winter, with no eye to watch 
 it — except from above ! That mighty un- 
 explored wilderness of mysterious water 1 
 ■ — it does what it will, and is not depend- 
 ent upon man. But water is dependent 
 upon him for doing many things which 
 it never could do otherwise. While it 
 works in nature and on the globe, it is 
 not subject to his will ; but when it 
 works for human life it immediately be- 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER. 67 
 
 comes his disciple. Man seizes the laws, 
 and canals shoot forth, mills live, irriga- 
 tion turns barren heaths to gardens, tides 
 dig out channels, and the patient hydro- 
 static pump drives down to her element 
 the vast Leviathan. "Water could do 
 none of these things without man's help. 
 The things which natural laws can do 
 without human volition are not so many, 
 nor are they more wonderful than the 
 things which they do only by the life- 
 giving tonch of man's mind. 
 
 Heat, in the sun, produces the seasons. 
 How vast is the great fire-place of the 
 universe ! Yet compare it with the 
 sphere in which fire works under the do- 
 minion of man — in the forge, in the 
 furnace, over the blow-pipe, serving the 
 domestic range, warming the house, and 
 pouring summer throughout the year 
 within the dwellings ! 
 
 Look at nature's fruits. There is but 
 a heginrdng in natural fruits, and they 
 never, when left to nature alone, reach 
 
68 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 beyond that point. When a man finds 
 a crab-apple in the woods, he would not 
 willingly find it more than once ; yet, 
 brought to his own orchard, it becomes a 
 fine fruit. But did nature make the pip- 
 pin ? Nature had been trying her hand 
 for years and years, and had never been 
 able to get beyond the crab-apple. Man 
 says to her, " You are a bungling appren- 
 tice; Zwill make you a journeyman." 
 Nature can make iron, but she never 
 made a sword. She never made a jack- 
 knife, a steam-engine, a knife and fork — 
 nothing but bare, cold, dead iron. 
 
 Now, is this a course of specious meta- 
 physical reasoning ? Is not this truth 
 reasonable ? Are not these facts alleged 
 conclusive ? And if they be true, what 
 is the result? Nature has a certain 
 crude, general function which natural 
 laws perform of themselves, without any 
 regard to men. But these laws are made 
 to be vitalised and directed to a higher 
 development by the control of the human 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER. 69 
 
 mind and will. The laws of tlie globe 
 are to be taken hold of by man's will, as 
 really as the laws of the body are. The 
 secondary effects of natural laws are just 
 as much a part of their nature as the 
 primary, and are of equal imjDortance. 
 In fact, it is these that constitute the ele- 
 ments of civilisation. While natural 
 laws, in a certain way, influence and con- 
 trol men, jQi they are, in the effects 
 which they produce, just as much con- 
 trolled by man, and just as dependent on 
 him. If nature should abandon men, 
 they would die, and it would become pov- 
 erty-stricken. Let nature forget us, and 
 the heart would cease to beat. The pul 
 sations of endless electrical currents would 
 cease. On the other hand, let man for- 
 get nature, and the city would crumble, 
 and go back to a wilderness ; the garden 
 which had grown up from a thistle- 
 ground, would return to its native condi- 
 tion ; cultivated seeds would shrink back 
 to their original poverty ; and all domes- 
 
70 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 tic animals would rebound to their wild 
 state. Nature needs man to keep her at 
 work. 
 
 It is this view that settles all questions 
 about man's necessity to obey. God has 
 not put us before nature to make us only 
 its pupil, but also its master. We are 
 not alone to look up and take, but to 
 look down and control. We are not only 
 to obey, but also to rule. We are to 
 obey for the sake of ruling. The whole 
 talk about the absolute and inflexible 
 government of natural law has no found- 
 ation except in fool's brains. It is a di- 
 vided empire, and man's part is more 
 than nature's. When God made man, 
 He made more of nature in Him than He 
 did in all the rest of the world besides ! 
 
 The question now arises, Is there a 
 moral or scientific probability that God 
 ever produces results by natural laws in 
 this world which otherwise would not 
 have been produced? If we drive na- 
 tural laws, cannot God do it? I hold, 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER 71 
 
 becoause the Bible teaches it, and now I 
 bold it more because nature and science 
 teach it, that there are millions of results 
 that never would have fallen out in the 
 course of nature that are now continually 
 happening on account of God's special 
 mercy. The doctrine of a special provi- 
 dence is this: God administers natural 
 laws — of the mind, of the body, and the 
 outward world — so as to produce effects 
 which they never would have done of 
 themselves. Man can do this, and why 
 not God ? By a vvrise use of natural laws, 
 man can make the difference between 
 comfort and discomfort. He can till the 
 farm, and make the seasons serve him. 
 He can take natural laws, and gird him- 
 self about with them, so that they shall 
 make him rich, and wise, and strong. 
 Men can do it for themselves — why can- 
 not God do it for them? Men can do it 
 for their children, for their neighbours' 
 children, for scores and hundreds of per 
 sons. A farmer that administers his 
 
72 THE REASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 estate wisely, will liave enougli, not onlj 
 for himself, but for others. His children 
 will be fed, the neighbourhood supplied, 
 and the veins of commerce swollen by 
 the overplus of his sagacity. A man can 
 say to the light, to the water, to the sea- 
 sons, "I will, by you, make a special 
 providence for this whole town," and he 
 can do it ; for if he falls back, there will 
 not be abundance, but if he goes forward 
 there will be. That is not all. A man 
 may be put at a point where — as Napo- 
 leon was, or Wellington in Spain, or Sir 
 John Moore in the north of Portugal, or 
 Clive in India — he can make a special 
 providence for a nation, for a race, for an 
 age, for one land, or for the globe. Now, 
 God can do a great deal more than man, 
 and a great deal better. Is there any ob 
 jection to such a doctrine ? 
 
 In regard to the doctrine of prayer, 
 many men say, "Do you suppose that 
 God will make any difference whether 
 you pray or not?'' The reply is, that 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER. 73 
 
 God can if He chooses. But whether 
 He will or not, depends very much on 
 how I pray, and what I pray for. I can 
 give my boy a book or a bow every day 
 in the year, but whether I will or not is 
 another thing. God will not do for men 
 what men can do for themselves. Nor 
 will He do for them at present w^hat 
 they, after a proper course of develop- 
 ment, will by and by be able to do for 
 themselves. But a man has a right to 
 go up along the path of his weakness, 
 and say, " I have done what I could ; now 
 hear my prayer, and do for me what I 
 cannot do for myself." And if it is a 
 thing that is needed, God will answer the 
 prayer. For He loves to give needed 
 things better than earthly parents love to 
 give good gifts to their children. Sup- 
 pose you have been travelling on the 
 railway with your child, and it becomes 
 restless with fatigue. Its rest has been 
 broken by night- travelling, and it is hun- 
 gry and asks for food. But a bank of 
 
74 THE BEASON OF PRAYER. 
 
 snow lies across tlie track, and tlie train 
 cannot go on. It waits. Anybody 
 would feel pity for such a child — even 
 if it were a stranger's ! But how much 
 more if it were his own ? And if it be 
 my child, and says, "Pa, water, water," 
 it cuts me to the heart to hear it ! But 
 by and by, with double and treble ele- 
 ments of iron, the track is opened, the 
 way is cleared, and we are hurried on to 
 the next station. The first bolt I make 
 is into the hotel; for I am hungry, not 
 for myself, but for the child; and I 
 break through the crowd back again to 
 the train with bread in my hands for the 
 child. Ah, do you suppose the bread is 
 half so sweet to his mouth as to my eyes 
 that watch his eager eating ? But this is 
 Grod's figure, and not mine. He declares 
 that He is more willing to give good gifts 
 to them that ask Him, than parents are 
 to give to their children. 
 
 Have you ever prayed on this princi- 
 ple, and found your prayer unanswered ? 
 
THE REASON OF PRAYER. 75 
 
 ISTot prayer for amusement; for some 
 men pray, who begin with Adam, and 
 come leisurely down all the way through 
 to ''Thy kingdom come," and then wind 
 up with the "power and glory, for ever 
 and ever. Amen." That is not prayer ; 
 or at least it is not such praying as will 
 be answered. But did you ever, under 
 the pressure of a real want, go to Grod 
 and say, "Thou, Father, canst help me; 
 give me thine aid," and not have your 
 prayer answered? Glorious old Martin 
 Luther knew how to pray. He used to 
 take one of God's promises, and laying it 
 down, would say, "Kow, Lord, here is 
 Thy word ! If Thou dost not keep it, I 
 will never believe Thee again." This 
 may be called audacious, but it was not 
 audacity in such a Christian as Luther. 
 
 What is needed is, that we should take 
 a larger and broader faith, and we shall 
 then have no dificulty with prayer, or 
 special providences, or miracles ; but all 
 their problems will be solved, and their 
 mj^steries cleared away. 
 
*' Lord ! how happy should we be 
 If we could cast our care on Thee, 
 
 If we from self could rest ; 
 And feel at heart that One above 
 In perfect wisdom, perfect love, 
 Is working for the best. 
 
 " How far from this our daily life ! 
 Ever disturbed by anxious strife, 
 
 By sudden wild alarms ; 
 Oh, could we but relinquish all 
 Our earthly props, and simply fall 
 
 On Thy almighty arms ! 
 
 " Could we but kneel and cast our load. 
 E'en while we pray, upon our God, 
 
 Then rise with lighten'd cheer ; 
 Sure that the Father, who is nigh, 
 To still the famisli'd raven's cry. 
 
 Will hear, in that we fear. 
 
 " We cannot trust Him as we should, 
 So chafes fallen nature's restless mood 
 
 To cast its peace away ; 
 Yet birds and flowerets round us preach-— 
 All, all the present evil teach, 
 
 SuflScient for the day. 
 
 " Lord, make these faithless hearts of ours 
 Such lessons learn from birds and flowers, 
 
 Make therefrom self to cease ; 
 Leave all things to a Father's will, 
 And taste, before Him lying still, 
 E'en in afiEliction, peace." 
 
Ef^t (K^tmt lEpcmplar. 
 
 Hebrews ii. 16-13. 
 " For verily he took not on him the nature of angels ; but he 
 took on him the seed of Abraham. "Wherefore in all things it 
 behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he 
 might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things per- 
 taining to God, to make reconciliation for the sins of the 
 people. For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, 
 he is able to succour them that are tempted." 
 
 Hebrews iii. 1, 2. 
 " Wherefore, holy brethren, partakers of the heavenly calling, 
 consider the Apostle and High Priest of our profession, Christ 
 Jesus ; who was faithful to him that appointed him, as also 
 Moses was faithful in all his house." 
 
 Hebrews iv. 15. 
 " For we have not an High Priest which cannot be touched with 
 the feeling of our infirmities ; but was in all points tempted 
 like as we are, yet without sin." 
 
 John xvi. 23, 24. 
 *' Verily, verily, I say unto you. Whatsoever ye shall ask the 
 Father in m\' name, he will give it you. Hitherto have ye 
 asked nothing in my name : ask, and ye shall receive, that 
 your joy may be full." 
 
 1 John ii. 1. 
 
 " And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, 
 
 Jesus Christ the righteous." 
 
' Jesu, teach me like Thyself to fly 
 This poisonous world, and all its charms defy. 
 Give me devotion which shall never tire ; 
 Fix'd contemplation which my love may fire ; 
 A heavenly tincture in my whole discourse, 
 A fervent zeal which may my prayers enforce ; 
 Of heavenly joys a sweet foretasting view. 
 That I on earth may only heaven pursue." 
 
 Bishop Ken. 
 
 ' Here in Thy gracious hands I fall. 
 
 To Thee I cUng with faith's embrace ; 
 righteous Sovereign, hear my call, 
 
 And turn, oh, turn, to me in grace ! 
 For through Thy sorrows I am just, 
 
 And guilt no more in me is found ; 
 
 Thus reconciled, my soul is bound 
 To Thee in endless love and trust. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, to Thee my soul would cleave, 
 Oh choose it. Saviour, for Thy throne ! 
 Couldst Thou in love to me once leave 
 
 The glory that was all Thine own, 
 So honour Thou my life and heart, 
 That Thou mayst find a heaven in me ; 
 And when this house decay'd shall be. 
 Then grant the heaven where now Thou art." 
 
 Lyra Gekmanica. 
 
^iie a^vtat 12ptmplar. 
 
 T EAYING the crowded shore, the 
 -^ thronged highway, and, crossing the 
 turfy fields, Christ came to the edges of 
 the mountains. His pulse throbbed and 
 his brealii quickened as He clomb, as ours 
 do when we climb. The sparrow, not 
 knowing its Creator and Protector, flew 
 away from His coming. His form cast its 
 shadow, as He passed, over bush, and 
 flower, and grass, and they knew not that 
 their Maker overshadowed them. Sounds 
 grew fainter behind Him. Those who had 
 followed Him, one by one, dropped off, 
 and the last eye that looked after Him 
 had lost His form amid the wavering 
 leaves, and was withdrawn. He was in 
 the mountain, and alone. The day was 
 passing. The last red light followed 
 
80 THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 
 
 Him, and stained tlie air of tlie forest with 
 ruddy hues. At length the sun went 
 down, and it was twihght in the moun- 
 tains, though bright yet in the open field. 
 But when it was twilight in the field, it 
 was already dark on the mountain. The 
 stars were coming forward and filhng the 
 heavens. 
 
 No longer drawn outward by the wants 
 of tlie crowd, what were the thoughts of 
 such a soul ? And what were the pray- 
 ers? Even if Christ were but a man, 
 such an errand, and of such a man, would 
 be sublime! But how foolish are all 
 words which would approach the grand- 
 eur of Christ's solitude upon the moun- 
 tain, if we regard Him as very God, 
 though incarnated, communing with His 
 coequal Father ! 
 
 What was the varied prayer? "What 
 tears were shed, what groans were breath- 
 ed, what silent yearnings, what voiceless 
 utterances of desire, no man may know. 
 Walking to and fro, or sitting upon some 
 
THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 81 
 
 fallen rock, or prostrate in overpowering 
 emotion, the hours passed on until morn- 
 ing dawned. When He went down to 
 His disciples, they neither inquired nor 
 did He speak of His mountain watch. 
 
 If prayer be the communion of the soul 
 with God, it is but a little part of it that 
 can be uttered in words ; and still less of 
 it that will take form of words in the 
 presence of others. Of outward wants, 
 of outward things, of one's purely earthly 
 estate, we can speak freely. But of the 
 souVs inward life — of its struggles with 
 itself, its hopes, yearnings, griefs, loves, 
 joys, of its very personality — it is re- 
 served, and to such a degree, that there 
 can be no prayer expressive of the inward 
 life, until we have entered into the closet, 
 and shut to the door. Every Christian, 
 whose life has developed itself into great 
 experience of secret prayer, knows that 
 the hidden things of the closet transcend 
 all uttered prayer as much in depth, rich- 
 ness, and power, as they do in volume 
 and space. 
 
82 THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 
 
 Sometimes we mourn the loss of old 
 books in ancient libraries; we marvel 
 what more tlie world would have had if 
 the Alexandrian library had not perish- 
 ed ; we regret the decay of parchments, 
 the rude waste of monks with their 
 stupid palimpsests. We sorrow for the 
 lost arts, and grieve that the fairest por- 
 tions of Grecian art lie buried from re- 
 search ; that the Parthenon should come 
 down within two hundred years of our 
 time, with its wealth of magnificence, a 
 voice in stone from the old world to the 
 new, and yet perish almost before our 
 eyes ! 
 
 But when one reflects upon the secret 
 history which has transpired in men's 
 thoughts, and that the noblest natures 
 have been they whose richest experiences 
 could never have been drawn forth 
 through the pen, or recorded in books — 
 but have found utterance through prayer, 
 and before the conscious glory of the In- 
 visible Presence — I am persuaded that 
 
THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 83 
 
 the silent literature of the closet is in- 
 finitely more wonderful, in every attri- 
 bute of excellence, than all that has been 
 sung in song, or recorded in literature, 
 or lost in all the concussions of time. If 
 rarest classical fragments, the perished 
 histories and poets of every people, could 
 be revived, they would be as nothing 
 in comparison with the effusions of the 
 closet, could they be gathered and re- 
 corded. 
 
 The noblest natures, it is, that resort to 
 this study. The rarest inspiration rests 
 upon them. Flying between the heavens 
 and the earth, with winged faith, they 
 reach ont into glories which do not de- 
 scend to the lower spheres of thought. 
 
 How many souls, so large and noble 
 that they rose up in those days of perse- 
 cution, and left home and love for the 
 faith of Christ, and went to the wilder- 
 ness and dwelt therein, gave forth in 
 prayer their whole life! Doubtless their 
 daily prayers were rich and deep in spirit- 
 
84 THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 
 
 ual life. But tliere are peculiar days to 
 all — days of vision — days wlien we see 
 all human life as in a picture, and all 
 future life as in a vision ; and -when the 
 reason, the imagination, the affections, 
 and the experiences of life are so temper- 
 ed together that we consciously live more 
 in an hour than at other times in months. 
 Every man has his mountains of trans- 
 figuration, and sees and talks with the 
 revealed and radiant dead. In such ex- 
 periences, what must have been the won- 
 ders of prayer, when the noblest natures 
 — rich in all goodness, deeply cultured in 
 knowledge, refined in all taste, and en- 
 riched in pure lives, but driven out 
 among the wild shaking leaves of the 
 wilderness for their faith's sake — poured 
 out their whole soul before God ; their 
 conscious weakness and sinfulness, their 
 yearnings and trials, their hopes and 
 strivings, their sense of this life and their 
 view of the other, their longing for God's 
 Church on earth and their prospect of the 
 
THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 85 
 
 glorified Churcli in heaven ! "What if 
 some listener had made haste to put 
 down the prayers of Luther, with all 
 his strong crying and tears, if that had 
 been possible ! How many noble natures 
 gave up to celibacy and virginity the 
 wondrous treasures of multitudinous af- 
 fections. And when at periods of heart- 
 swellings, in hours when the secret tide 
 set in upon men from the eternal ocean, 
 and carried them upon mighty longings 
 and 3^earnings towards God^ before whom 
 they poured forth in mingled sobs and 
 words those affections which were meant 
 to be eased in the love-relations of lifie, 
 but which, hindered and choked, found 
 tumultuous vent in mighty prayer to 
 God! 
 
 Consider what mothers' hearts have 
 always been. How many thousand thou- 
 sands of them have watched day and 
 night over the cradle till the body 
 failed and the spirit waxed even keener ; 
 and with what wondrous gushes of words, 
 
86 THE GREAT EXEMPEAH. 
 
 such as would disdain to be called elo- 
 quence, have they besought God, with 
 every persuasion, for the life of the child ! 
 We judge these things by our own ex- 
 perience. All the words that were ever 
 spoken, and all the thoughts that we have 
 conceived, are unfit to bear up the skirt 
 of those prayers, which burst, without 
 words, right out of our hearts, for the 
 life of dying children ! 
 
 Consider what a heavenly wonder must 
 be the Book of Prayer that lies before 
 God ! For groans are interpreted there. 
 Mute joys gain tongue before God. Un- 
 utterable desires, that go silently up from 
 the heart, burst forth into divine plead- 
 ings when, touched by the Spirit, their 
 imprisoned nature comes forth ! Could 
 thoughts or aspirations be made visible, 
 could they assume a form that befitted 
 their nature, what an endless procession 
 would be seen going towards the throne 
 of God, day and night! Consider the 
 wrestlings of all the wretched, the cry 
 
THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 87 
 
 of orphans, the ceaseless pleadings of the 
 bereaved, and of those fearing bereave- 
 ment ; the prayer of trust betrayed, of 
 hope darkened, of home deserted, of joy 
 quenched; the prayers of Mthfal men 
 from dungeons and prison-houses; the 
 prayers of slaves, who found man, law, 
 and the Church twined around and set 
 against them, and had no way left to 
 look but upward towards God ! The 
 hearts of men by myriads have been 
 pressed by the world as grapes are trod- 
 den in a wine -press, and have given forth 
 a heavenly wine. Beds of long-lingering 
 sickness have learned such thoughts of 
 resignation, and such patient trust and 
 joy, that the heavenly book is bright 
 with the footprints of their prayers ! The 
 very silence of sickness is often more full 
 of richest thoughts than all the books of 
 earth have ever been ! 
 
 " And when he had taken the book, 
 the four beasts and four and twenty 
 ciders fell down before the Lamb, having 
 
88 THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 
 
 every one of them harps, and golden 
 vials full of odors, ivliicli are the prayers 
 of saints y And the other magnificence 
 of the scene one may read in the fifth 
 chapter of that gorgeous book of divine 
 pictures, the Eevelation of St. John ! 
 How remarkable would it seem, if it were 
 revealed to us that there dwelt in the air 
 a race of fine and fairy spirits, whose 
 work it was to watch all flowers of the 
 earth, and catch their perfumed breath 
 and preserve it in golden vials for hea- 
 venly use ! But how much more grand 
 is the thought that, all over the earth, 
 God's angels have caught the heart's 
 breath, its prayers, and love, and that in 
 heaven they are before God like precious 
 odors poured from golden vases by saintly 
 hands ! 
 
 The influences which are at work upon 
 the soul in such a covert as the closet are 
 not like the coarse stimulants of earthly 
 thought. It is no fierce rivalry, no con- 
 flict for victory, no hope of praise or hun- 
 
THE GREAT EXEMPLAR. 89 
 
 ger of fame, tliat tlirow lurid light upon 
 the mind. The soul rises to its highest 
 nature, and meets the inflnence that rests 
 upon it from above. AYhat is the depth 
 of calmness, what is the vision of faith, 
 what is the rapture, the ecstasy of love, 
 the closet knows more grandly than any 
 other place of human experience I 
 
" Not seldom, clad in radiant vest, 
 Deceitfully goes forth the morn ; 
 Not seldom, evening in the west, 
 Sinks smilingly forsworn. 
 
 " The smoothest seas will sometimes prove 
 To tlie confiding bark untrue ; 
 And if she trusts the stars above, 
 They can be treacherous too. 
 
 " The umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread. 
 Full oft when storms the welkin rend. 
 Draws lightning down upon the head 
 It promised to defend. 
 
 *' But Thou art true, incarnate Lord ! 
 Who didst vouchsafe for man to die ; 
 Thy smile is sure, Thy plighted word 
 No change can falsify. 
 
 *' I bent before Thy gracious throne, 
 
 And asked for peace with suppliant knee ; 
 And peace was given, — nor peace alone, 
 But faith sublimed to ecstasy !" 
 
 "Wordsworth. 
 
(Utomt iJoltrls, 
 
 Hebrews x. 19-23. 
 
 ' Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest 
 by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he 
 hath consecrated for us, through the vail, that is to say, his 
 flesh ; and having an High Priest over the house of God ; let 
 us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, 
 having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and 
 our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the 
 profession of our faith without wavering ; (for he is faithful 
 that promised.)" 
 
 1 John V. 14, 15. 
 
 ' And this is the confidence that we have in liim, that, if we ask 
 anything according to his will, he heareth us ; and if we 
 know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we 
 have the petitions that we desired of him." 
 
 Psalm Ixii. 7, 8. 
 
 • In God is my salvation and my glory : the rock of my strength, 
 
 and my refuge, is in God. Trust in liim at all times ; ye 
 people, pour out your heart before him ; God is a refuge for 
 us. Selah." 
 
 Hebrews iv. 15, 16. 
 For we have not an High Priest which cannot be touched with 
 the feeling of our infirmities ; but was in all points tempted 
 like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come bold- 
 ly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and 
 find grace to help in time of need." 
 
 John xiv. 14. 
 
 • If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it." 
 
*' Come, then, let us hasten j'onder; 
 
 Here let all, 
 
 Great and small, 
 Kneel in awe and wonder. 
 Love Him who with love is yearning { 
 
 Hail the Star 
 
 That from far 
 Bright with hope is burning ! 
 
 "Ye who pine in weary sadness, 
 
 Weep no more. 
 
 For the door 
 Now is found of gladness : 
 Cling to Him, for He will guide you 
 
 Where no cross, 
 
 Pain or loss, 
 Can again betide you. 
 
 " Hither come, ye heavy-hearted ; 
 
 Who for sin. 
 
 Deep within, 
 Long and sore have smarted ; 
 For the poison'd wounds j-ou're feeling 
 
 Help is near, 
 
 One is here 
 Mighty for their healing ! 
 
 " Hither come, ye poor and wi-etched ; 
 
 Know His will 
 
 Is to mi 
 Every hand outstretched ; 
 Here are riches without measure. 
 
 Here forget 
 
 All regret, 
 Fill your hearts with treasure." 
 
*'Qtomt IJoltrlg to tjr ^f^vont.'' 
 
 MANY passages of tlie Scripture are 
 like hundreds of wayside flowers, 
 whidi for montlis and years are unno- 
 ticed by us, simply because we have been 
 accustomed from our childhood to see 
 them without stooping to pluck or to 
 examine them. Many of the homeliest 
 flowers would appear transcendently beau- 
 tiful if we would take the trouble to study 
 them minutely, to magnify their parts, 
 and to bring out their constituent ele- 
 ments. And so, we were taught to read 
 the Bible so early, in the family and in 
 the village school, and we have so often 
 and often walked along the chapters, that 
 we have beaten a dusty path in them, 
 and some of their most precious and 
 beautiful things are neither precious nor 
 
94 COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 
 
 beautiful to us, simply because we look 
 at tbem and not into them. Many parts 
 of tlie Bible may be compared to those 
 exquisite creations of art which are some- 
 times found in old cathedrals ; they have 
 collected dust and grime and weather- 
 stains ; hundreds of persons go past them 
 every day, never cleansing them, never 
 restoring feature nor colour, nor bringing 
 out the artist's embodied thought, so that 
 they are quite unconscious, till they see 
 them restored in the picture of some 
 book, or till some enthusiastic Euskin 
 brings them out, and teaches us how 
 beautiful are the things that we have 
 slighted as uncomely. So the Scriptures 
 are often overlaid, and, frequently, some 
 of the passages that really are the most 
 resplendent are those which seem only 
 common and ordinary. 
 
 Just such a passage is to be found in 
 the third chapter of the Ephesians, in 
 which Paul says : " For this cause I bow 
 my knees unto the Father of our Lord 
 
COME BO1.DLY TO THE THRONE. P5 
 
 Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family 
 in heaven and earth is named, that he 
 would grant you, according to the riches 
 of his glory, to be strengthened with 
 might by his Spirit in the inner man ; 
 that Christ may dwell in your hearts by 
 faith ; that ye, being rooted and ground- 
 ed in love, may be able to comprehend 
 with all saints what is the breadth, and 
 length, and depth, and height ; and to 
 know the love of Christ, which passeth 
 knowledge, that ye might be filled with 
 all the fulness of God." What a passage 
 is this ! But this is not all. This is a 
 prayer ; and the apostle having made a 
 prayer which few men can climb, takes a 
 still higher flight, and says : " Now unto 
 Him that is able to do exceeding abun- 
 dantly above all that we ask or think, ac- 
 cording to the power that worketh in us, 
 unto him be glory in the church by Christ 
 Jesus throughout all ages, world without 
 end. Amen." 
 
 These words are, throughout, a sub- 
 
96 GOME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 
 
 lime strain against despondency. Paul 
 was in prison. " For tHs cause," the 
 chapter begins, " I Paul, the prisoner." 
 His design was to present such a view of 
 the fulness of God's heart, and of the 
 grandeur of His administration, as should 
 be an offset against any possible weak- 
 ness, disaster, overthrow, or trouble in 
 life, to Christians, both as individuals and 
 as churches. 
 
 It is a presentation of Grod in such a 
 light as shall enkindle praise. "Now 
 unto Him" — the very words indicate the 
 mood of devout ascription. He would 
 excite joy and adoration in view of God's 
 royal generosity and large-heartedness. 
 The Divine generosity is measured not 
 only by our wants, but by our thoughts 
 and desires above our wants, and it equals 
 and transcends both. He is " able to do 
 exceeding abundantly above all that we 
 ask or think." 
 
 The word " abundance" expresses the 
 idea of more than enough. " Enough " 
 
COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 97 
 
 is a measuring word. It is the complete 
 filling of a given measure. It satisfies 
 the demand. It just equals the want. 
 But " abundance" is something over and 
 above. It is " enough and to spare." A 
 handful of berries or dried fruits given to 
 a pilgrim who is ready to perish of hun- 
 ger, might be enough to stay his strength 
 and satisfy his appetite ; but if, instead 
 of this, the kind heart of sympathy should 
 throw open the garden gate and the or- 
 chard, and say to him, ''Go in, pluck 
 and eat," even when the lively appetite 
 had sated itself upon the nearest fruits, 
 there would still be on every bush and 
 bough, in hundreds of rows and ranks, 
 throughout the garden and the orchard, 
 multitudes of kinds and the utmost abun- 
 dance in quantity, of sweet and delicious 
 fruits, which he could not begin to eat 
 nor even to taste. In the one case he 
 would have simply "enough," in the 
 other " abundance." 
 
 Saith the armourer, " I will not be 
 
98 C03IE BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 
 
 wasteful," and lie uses steel with an 
 economic eye in forging tlie blade ; and 
 the smith measures his iron for each pur- 
 pose. So he that pays a debt at the bank 
 lays down the exact amount to a penny, 
 but no more. The apothecary takes the 
 physician's prescription, and weighing it 
 out, allows himself no generosity in mea- 
 suring the ingredients of the medicine, 
 but puts it up by drachms and scruples 
 with rigid exactitude. God does not so 
 measure in creating, or in sustaining, or 
 in administering. On the other hand, the 
 thought of God which the apostle con- 
 veys, is that of a Being of magnificent 
 richness, who does everything in over- 
 measure. The whole Divine character 
 and administration, the whole conception 
 of God set forth in the Bible and in na- 
 ture, is of a Being of magnificence and 
 munificence^ of abundance and supera- 
 bundance. D id you ever take th e troub 1 c 
 to look at a lazy bank that bears nothing 
 for itself? It has no trees growing out of 
 
COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 90 
 
 it for grateful shade, and no vines witli 
 cooling clusters, and no grass wliicli lierds 
 may browse upon, and no flowers that lap 
 over it, and yet the hair of ten thousand 
 reeds will be combed upon "its brow, and 
 it will be spotted and patched with moss, 
 of ten thousand patterns of exquisite 
 beauty, so that any artist who, in all his 
 life, should produce one such thing, would 
 make himself a master-spirit in art, and 
 immortal in fame. God's least thought 
 in the barrenest places of nature is more 
 prolific than man's greatest abundance. 
 God is a Being of great thoughts, great 
 feelings, great actions. Whenever He 
 does anything, He never does it narrow- 
 ly, certainly not meanly. He never cuts 
 out such a pattern, and then works up to 
 it with even edge. He is a royal Creator, 
 who says to the earth, ^'Let it swarm 
 abundantly," and to the sea, "Let it be 
 endlessly filled." He touches the sand of 
 the shore, and it stands forth as a repre- 
 Bentative of the abundance of His thouarht. 
 
100 COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 
 
 He spreads out the heavens, and no man 
 can count the fiery stars. He orders the 
 seasons, and thej all speak in their end- 
 less procession of this one thought of God 
 — His everlasting abundance ! 
 
 But "abundance" is a relative word. 
 What is abundance for a wayfarer is not 
 abundance for a shepherd. What was 
 abundant for a nomad, a wandering shep- 
 herd, would not be for a settled farmer, 
 with crops and stock, with barns and 
 houses. But what is abundant for a 
 farmer, would not be for a merchant; 
 and what is abundant for a merchant 
 would be very sparse and scant for a 
 prince ; and even among princes there is 
 great difference of degree. The abun- 
 dance of a German prince would be pov- 
 erty for the court of the royal Czar. 
 Now, put the word, with its relative and 
 increased significance, upon God. Divine 
 abundance ! The fulness of God ! It is 
 not in the power of man to conceive it ! 
 If God might be supposed to have worked 
 
COME BOLDLY TO THE THROXE. 101 
 
 narrowly anywhere it would be on the 
 earth, His footstool. But the earth is in- 
 finitely full of God's thought. And yet, 
 great as the earth is absolutely, it is rela- 
 tively little, and all symbols and figures 
 drawn from earthly things stop on this 
 side of the Divine idea of abundance. 
 
 But the apostle says, " Now unto Him 
 that is able to do exceeding abundantly." 
 What a vision he must have had ! How 
 grandly in that moment did the divine 
 though rise before his enrapt mind, when 
 he so linked words together, seeking by 
 combinations to express what no one 
 word had the power to flash forth. He 
 could not by the mightiest single word 
 express his own thought and feeling, and 
 so he joined golden word with golden 
 w^ord, as if he fain would encompass it 
 with a chain I 
 
 But Paul employs a measure of com- 
 j^arison even over and above all this: 
 " above all that we can ask or think.'' 
 That is, above the measure of all human 
 
102 COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 
 
 aspirations. How much can a man ask 
 or think? When the deepest convic- 
 tions of sin are upon him, in his hour of 
 deep despondency, in critical and trying 
 circumstances, when fears come upon his 
 soul as storms came on the lake of Gralilee, 
 consider how much a man would then 
 ask, and how much more think ! Or, 
 when love swells every vein in his soul, 
 and makes life as full as mountains make 
 the streams in spring-time, and hope is 
 the sun by day and the moon by night, 
 in those gloriously elate hours in which 
 he seems no longer fixed to space and 
 time, but, springing as if the body were 
 forgotten by the soul, wings his way 
 through the realms of aspiration and con- 
 ception, consider how much a man then 
 thinks I 
 
 All books are dry and tame compar- 
 ed with that great unwritten book pray- 
 ed in the closet. The prayers of exiles ! 
 The prayers of martyrs! The prayers 
 of missionaries ! The prayers of the 
 
COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 103 
 
 "Waldenses ! The prayers of the Albi- 
 genses ! The prayers of the Covenant- 
 ers! The sighs, the groans, the inarti- 
 culate cries of suffering men, whom ty- 
 rants have buried alive in dungeons — 
 whom the world may forget, but God 
 never ! If some angel, catching them as 
 they were uttered, should drop them 
 down from heaven, what a liturgy they 
 would make ! Can any epic equal those 
 unwritten words that pour into the ear 
 of God out of the heart's fulness ! 
 
 Still more, what epic can equal the un- 
 spoken words, that never find the lip, 
 but go up to heaven in unutterable long- 
 ings and aspirations I Words are but 
 the bannerets of a great army ; thoughts 
 are the main body of the footmen. 
 Words show here and there a little 
 gleam in the air, but the great multitude 
 of thoughts march unseen below. Words 
 cannot follow aspiration even in its 
 tamer flights ; still less when it takes 
 wings and flies upward, borne by the 
 
104 COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 
 
 breath of God's Holy Spirit. I see the 
 gulls from my window day by day, 
 making circuits against the north wind. 
 They mount up above the masts of ves- 
 sels in the stream, and then suddenly 
 drop almost to the water's edge, flying- 
 first in one direction and then in another, 
 that they may find some eddy unob- 
 structed by that steady-blowing blast, 
 until they turn finally with the wind, and 
 then like a gleam of light their white 
 wings flash down the bay faster than any 
 eye can follow them ! So when men's 
 aspirations are borne by some divine wind 
 towards heaven, they take swift upward 
 flight, and no words can follow them ! 
 
 Consider what a soul thinks in yearn- 
 ings for itself, and in yearnings even 
 more for others ; what a saint thinks in 
 hours of vision and aspiration, when he 
 reflects how all his life long, through 
 good report and through evil report, 
 through manifold trials of temper, of 
 mindj of feeling, in his family and out, 
 
COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 105 
 
 the hand of Grod has led him every day, 
 and his cup has been filled to overflow- 
 ing ; consider what a dying man thinks 
 in view of death and of judgment and 
 immortality awaiting him beyond the 
 grave ! What wonderful thoughts ! 
 What wonderful feelings ! And yet the 
 apostle's measurement is more than all 
 these, for he says : "N'ow unto him that 
 is able to do exceeding abundantly above 
 all that we ask or think !" How true it 
 is that God's riches are unsearchable ! 
 
 This is the idea of God toward which 
 men ought always to repent. It is some- 
 times supposed that repentance is drudg- 
 ery. It is drudgery in a mean man, but 
 in no one else. There is a kind of mean 
 repentance that needs to be repented of. 
 But when a child knows that his miscon- 
 duct has really hurt a loving parent, the 
 child is more j)ained than the parent. 
 When a noble sjDirit has done wrong to 
 a friend, through some misunderstanding 
 that has sprung up between them, such 
 
106 COME BOLDLY TO THE THROVE. 
 
 man demands the liberty of restoring a 
 himself more tlian tlie other demands 
 that he shall restore himself. When, we 
 have injured a friend, it is our privilege 
 to make it good. It is necessary to our 
 thought of manhood that we should re- 
 pair a wrong done. How much more 
 when we have wronged Christ, our Elder 
 Brother, our Redeemer, our Friend, our 
 joy and our comfort, should we make 
 haste to repent — not as a duty, but as a 
 sweet privilege ; not with the thought 
 that our repentance is a necessity made 
 so by Him, but made necessary by our 
 own honour and conscience ? To sit down 
 in a corner, and to cry so much, and to 
 feel so bad, and to mourn so long, is not 
 repentance. Trae rejoentance springs 
 out of the most generous feelings of a 
 Christian heart. It is a man's better na- 
 ture triumphing over his lower and 
 meaner. A Christian should never say, 
 "I must repent^" but, "Let me repent." 
 It is the goodness of God that should 
 
COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 107 
 
 lead us to repentance, not His justice and 
 His terrors. Many persons suppose that 
 God sits on the throne of the heavens as 
 storm-clouds that float in summer skies, 
 full of bolts and lightnings ; and they are 
 either repelled, or they think they must 
 come to Him under the covert of some 
 excuse. But repentance ought to lead 
 US to God as toward light, toward sum- 
 mer, toward heaven made glorious with 
 His presence, toward His everlasting 
 goodness. His eye is not dark with 
 vengeance, nor His heart turbulent witli 
 wrath, and to repent toward His justice 
 and vindictiveness must be always from 
 a lower motive than toward His generos- 
 ity and His love. 
 
 It is with such a conception of God 
 that Christians should come before Him 
 with their wants. It is a glorious com- 
 fort that God's love is as infinite as His 
 power. We are all apt to think of His 
 jjower as infinite, and we call Him omnipo- 
 tent ; but we too often forget that His 
 
108 COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 
 
 love also is infinite. It has no end, no 
 measure, no bound. A man's generous 
 feelings are often like the buds at this 
 season of the year — wrapped up in cov- 
 erings to keep them from the selfishness 
 and coldness of the world. By and b}^ 
 they may burst out and bloom, yet now 
 they are circumscribed. But we do not 
 have in ourselves the measure of the love 
 of God. How base it is, then, when we 
 have some gift to ask of Him, to go with 
 shrinking confidence and with piteous 
 look, as though there were need of im- 
 portunity. Is it possible, if with men " it 
 is more blessed to give than to receive," 
 that it is not infinitely more with God ? 
 To a true Christian heart, next to the 
 pain of being unable to do for those who 
 are in want, is the pleasure of being ap- 
 proached by them, when we have it in 
 our povfer to help them. Is it not the 
 same, and in an infinitely higher degree 
 with God ? The happiest being in the 
 universe is God, because He has an in- 
 
COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 109 
 
 finite desire of benevolence, and infinite 
 means of gratifying it. There is with 
 Him no limitation, either of heart or 
 hand. 
 
 Such a view of God, habitually taken, 
 will deliver us from unworthy fears, and 
 will inspire in us great boldness of ap- 
 proach, and access with confidence, unto 
 the throne of His grace. It will tend to 
 comfort Christians who are in despond- 
 ency respecting their rectitude through 
 life, their victory in death, and their glo- 
 rification in heaven ; for these things are 
 thus made to stand, not in a Christian's 
 feeble desire for them, but on God's in- 
 finite desire and abundant grace. When 
 stars, first created, start forth upon their 
 vast circuits, not knowing their way, if 
 they were conscious and sentient, they 
 might feel hopeless of maintaining their 
 revolutions and orbits, and might despair 
 in the face of coming ages ! But, with- 
 out hands or arms, the sun holds them ! 
 Without cords or bands, the solar king 
 
110 COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. 
 
 drives' them unliarnessed on their mighty 
 rounds without a single misstep, and will 
 bring them in the end to their bound, 
 without a single wanderer. But the sun 
 is but a thing, itself driven and held ; 
 and shall not He, who created the hea- 
 vens, and appointed all the stars to their 
 places, and gave the sun his power, be 
 able to hold you by the attraction of His 
 heart, the strength of His hands, and the 
 omnipotence of His affectionate will ? 
 
 It is this view of God that the apos- 
 tles taught. "We read it on every page 
 of Paul and Peter and James and John 
 — everywhere in the New Testament. 
 What was the beginning? "Peace on 
 earth, good- will to men !" And what 
 was the last word that was heard ringing 
 through the air before the message was 
 sealed, and the vision failed ? " The 
 Spirit and the bride say. Come ; let him 
 that heareth say. Come ; let him that is 
 athirst come ; and whosoever will, let him 
 come and take of the water of life freely." 
 
COME BOLDLY TO THE THRONE. Ill 
 
 Whosoever will ! That is tlie Alpha 
 and the Omega ! That is the beginning 
 and the ending ! That is the offer ; that 
 is the promise. And what shall be the 
 response of every Christian heart, if it be 
 not those final and sublimest words of 
 the great Eevelator, "Even so, Lord 
 Jesus, come quickly I" 
 
*• All eyes do wait on Thee, Lord, 
 
 Who keepest us from dearth, 
 Who scatterest rich supplies abroad 
 
 For all the wants of earth ; 
 Thou openest oft Thy bounteous hand, 
 And all in sea, and air, and land, 
 
 Are fiU'd with food and mirth. 
 
 " Thy thoughts are good, and Thou art kind, 
 
 E'en when we think it not ; 
 How many an anxious, faithless mind 
 
 Sits grieving o'er its lot. 
 And frets and pines by day and night, 
 As God had lost it out of sight, 
 
 And all its wants forgot ! 
 
 " Ah, no ! God ne'er forgets His own. 
 
 His heart is far too true ; 
 He ever seeks their good alone, 
 
 His love is daily new ; 
 And though thou deem that things go ill. 
 Yet He, in all He doeth, still 
 
 Is holy, just, and true. 
 
 •' The Lord to them is ever nigh 
 Who truly keep His word ; 
 Whene'er in faith to Him they cry, 
 
 Their prayer is surely heard. 
 He knoweth well who love Him well — 
 His love shall yet their clouds dispel, 
 And grant the hope deferr'd." 
 
 Lyra Germanica. 
 
m)t <^copc of i^tasttt. 
 
 Philippians iv. 6. 
 
 ■ Be careful for nothing ; but in every thing by prayer and sup- 
 
 plication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known 
 unto God." 
 
 James v. 16. 
 
 Pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual 
 fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." 
 
 Isaiah xUii. 25, 26. 
 I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine 
 own sake, and will not remember thy sins. Put me in re- 
 membrance : let us plead together : declare thou, that thou 
 maj-est be justified," 
 
 Job v. S-10- 
 
 ■ I would seek unto God, and unto God would I commit my 
 
 cause : which doeth great things and unsearchable ; marvel- 
 lous things without number : who giveth rain upon the earth, 
 and sendeth waters upon the fields." 
 
 Psalm cxxi. 
 
 ■ I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh 
 
 my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made 
 heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved : 
 he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold , he that keep- 
 eth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy 
 keeper : the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. Tlie sun 
 shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The 
 Lord shall preserve thee from all evil : he shall preserve thy 
 soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming 
 m from this time forth, and even for evermore." 
 
" Art thou a pilgrim, and alone ? 
 Far from the home once call'd thine own ? 
 From friendship's faithful bosom wrested, 
 In strangers' hands thy comforts vested, 
 Thy life a cheerless winter day, 
 Unlit by sunshine ? Rise and pray ! 
 
 " Smiled on thee once the bliss of earth. 
 And glittering joys of transient worth ? 
 Hast thou adored some idol shrine, 
 Or bent has many a knee at thine ? 
 Faded these creatures of a day. 
 What hast thou left ? Arise and pray ! 
 
 " Or hast thou, driven by deepest woe, 
 Thy soul's sure refuge learn'd to know ? 
 And every storm of life would meet 
 Beneath the sheltering Mercy-Seat ? 
 Whether in youth or life's decay, 
 Thy lot is blest — thou lovest to pray ! 
 
 " But haply thou, even thou hast found 
 Religion's consecrated ground 
 With sorrows and with snares beset ; 
 Which, though the almighty Sufferer met 
 To conquer, we must yet obey 
 His welcome mandate — Rise and pray ! 
 
 "Even should that direst hour be thine, 
 When in the darkening heavens no sign 
 Appears — but thou in combat fell, 
 ISIust meet the adverse hosts of hell, 
 Oh never cast the hope away, 
 While thou canst lift thy heart to pray ! 
 
 ♦' With tears, with bitterest agony, 
 The Saviour wrestled, soul ! for thee 
 Ere He could all-triumphant rise 
 To plead the accepted sacrifice ; 
 So, till the world shall pass away, 
 Shall stand His words—' Arise and pray !' " 
 
 E.M- 
 
^f\t Scope of Ptaser. 
 
 AISTE may perceive at a glance how 
 ^ exceedingly wide is tlie scope of 
 prayer. 
 
 It will begin with a supplication for 
 our temporal wants. These are first felt, 
 and felt longest ; and by the greatest 
 number of the world felt chiefly. Next 
 higher will come petitions for relief from 
 trouble, for remedy, for shelter in dan- 
 ger. In this, too, the soul may exercise 
 its own liberty ; there are no metes nor 
 bounds. Then, next, prayer is drawn 
 forth by heart-sorrow. A wounded 
 spirit, a bruised heart, naturally turns 
 for confidence and soothing towards 
 Grod. Its prayer may be supplication 
 for help, or it may be only recitation 
 for the sake of "oeace. Kext, and far 
 
116 THE SCOPE OF PRAYER. 
 
 higher, ^t^jqy becomes the resource of 
 a heart exercised for its own religious 
 growth. It is the cry for help against 
 temptation. It is the voice of confes- 
 sion. It is a recital of sins committed, 
 and a plaint of sorrow for them. It is 
 the soul's liberty to go to its Father 
 with all its growing pains, its labour 
 and travail in spiritual things. Prayer, 
 also, to one who lives in the daily serv- 
 ice of God, oftentimes takes the form 
 of simple communion, the spreading out 
 of our life to one who is worthy, whom 
 we love and trust, not for the sake of 
 any special advice, nor for the sake of 
 special help, but for the heart-rest which 
 there is in the thing itself. For none 
 love confidences so much as they who 
 rarely have them. None love to speak 
 so much, when the mood of speaking 
 comes, as they who are naturally taci- 
 turn. None love to lean and recline 
 entirely upon another so much as strong 
 natures that ordinarily do not lean at 
 
THE SCOPE OF PRAYER. 117 
 
 all. And so tlie lieart that goes shaded 
 and shut, that hides its thoughts and 
 dreads the knowledge of men's eyes, 
 flings itself wide open to the eye of God. 
 Thus, I have sat down within the 
 green wood, and while men were pass- 
 ing, feet tramping, and voices shouting, 
 everything in the boughs and among 
 the leaves hid itself. But after the 
 noise had died out, sitting still and mo- 
 tionless as the tree I leaned against, I 
 have heard a sweet note sounded near 
 me; then a brief response from yonder 
 bush ; a bird had hopped down upon 
 the leaves, squirrels had come forth lithe 
 and merry ; and in a few moments all 
 the secrets and confidences of sylvan 
 shades were revealed to me. And thus 
 it is in the soul that shuts itself and 
 holds its peace while the world is near, 
 but grows securer in silence of contem- 
 plation, and lets out its gentle thoughts 
 and whispering joys, its hopes or sad 
 fears, unto the listening ear and before 
 the kindly eye of God ! 
 
118 THE SCOPE OF PRAYER. 
 
 But in sonls whicli have caught some- 
 thing of the beauty of the divine life, 
 prayer in many of its moods becomes 
 more than this. There are times of 
 yearning and longing, far beyond the 
 help of the most hopeful. There is a 
 prayer which is the voice of the soul 
 pleading its birthright, crying out for 
 its immortality ; it is heavenly home- 
 sickness ! 
 
 There are times, too, of great joys 
 and gratitudes — times in which nothing 
 is so congenial as to express the soul's 
 thoughts of gladness, its spiritual gaiety. 
 In some lovely morning of sjDring, after 
 days of storm have made nature mute — 
 when the bright, warm dawning comes 
 — can any man tell what it is or why 
 it is that birds are wild with ecstatic 
 song, and sit singing with perpetual 
 warbling? Can any man tell why it 
 iS that they fly singing, turn and wheel 
 in the air with every fantastic gyration, 
 or briskly leap from bough to bough, 
 
THE SCOPE OF PRAYER. 119 
 
 and twig to twig, or sportively whirl 
 in a feathery fury of mingled delight, 
 a hundred voices crossing and mingling, 
 with strange melody of dissonance? 
 And can any man, then, give a square 
 and solid reason for those experiences 
 that sometimes come to all — and that 
 come often to some, when thoughts are 
 high and imaginations divinely radiant, 
 and the affections full of vibrations of 
 joy, and the whole soul is full of rising 
 gladness, gratitude, happiness, and, at 
 times, ecstasies? Have you never felt 
 this? I am sorry for the man that 
 has not ! One day, one hour, of such 
 peaceful joy, were worth a year of com- 
 mon pleasure ! 
 
 But the soul does not always live 
 willingly with itself There is a privi- 
 lege of sympathy with God which shall 
 bring us hours of most serene delight. 
 It is the privilege of God's people to 
 come into such spiritual relationship 
 with Him that they shall have medita- 
 
120 THE SCOPE OF PRAYER. 
 
 tions, almost visions, of the Divine good- 
 ness and glorj, which, will take away 
 from them all thought of self- worth or 
 demerit, of joy or sorrow, of thrift or 
 adversity ; and will fill them with over- 
 powering gladness for the greatness and 
 the glory of God ! As one who stands 
 before some magnificence of nature, or 
 in the presence of some stupendous 
 marvel, or before an outspread and 
 glorious work of art, or in a cathedral 
 full of dreamy beauty, or within a 
 gallery of paintings, where there is a 
 perfect wilderness of colours and forms, 
 as if there were as many as there are 
 flowers in the wilderness ; — as persons 
 amid such surroundings are utterly un- 
 conscious of self, and forgetful whether 
 they are in the body or out of it, 
 whether rich' or poor, whether in trouble 
 or in joy, but are carried quite out of 
 themselves, and made to dwell in the 
 realm and glory of the scene before 
 them; so, and much more, is it in the 
 
THE SCOPE OF PRAYER. 121 
 
 power of God to open sucli views of 
 Himself to the soul, as to fill and over- 
 flow its capacity, and to make its life, 
 for the time, a life beyond the body — 
 a life that goes forth, as it were, out 
 of doors, and mounts up to the very 
 heavens, and stands before the eternal 
 glory of Love, and among the radiant 
 multitudes in the endless processions 
 of heavenly hosts that are for ever 
 praising God 1 
 
 Who shall lay tax upon the tongue 
 or upon the thoughts in such glorious 
 visions as these ? Who shall criticise 
 or regulate the prayer that springs from 
 such experiences as these? Let a man 
 arrogantly teach rain how to &11, or 
 clouds how to shape themselves, and 
 with what paces to march their airy 
 rounds, or the season how to plant, and 
 tend, and garner ; but let him not teach 
 a soul how to pray, upon whom the 
 Holy Ghost thus broods and breathes ! 
 
 They to whom is given such commun- 
 
122 THE SCOPE OF PRAYER. 
 
 ion cannot but bear the burden of the 
 Lord in earthly things. Christ's cause 
 and glorj^ in the salvation of souls will 
 oftentimes move their prayers with deep 
 and inexhaustible desires. They may 
 not seek such experiences. They do 
 not come by common asking. They are 
 given to them who are one with Christ ; 
 who have entered into such sympathy 
 with God, that they must needs bear 
 His cross and, as it were, be crucified 
 for sinners. 
 
 And, in like manner, God makes His 
 servants to bear the burden of God's 
 cause on earth at large ; so that, at times, 
 the desires, the yearnings and prayers 
 for the prosperity of Zion will be almost 
 more than flesh can bear ; so that, in 
 the expressive language of Scripture, 
 they travail in birth for God's work on 
 earth ! 
 
 There are yet other modes of prayer ; 
 but who shall frame words to express 
 what that communion is which the soul 
 
THE SCOPE OF PRAYER. 123 
 
 holds wlieD; in tlie fulness of its own 
 feeling, it overflows with praises? It 
 is apparent how great is the folly of 
 those who decry prayer as being useless, 
 inasmuch as God knows what we need 
 — as if asking for enjoyable things is 
 all that a soul does in prayer. What 
 if a man should have an idea as ignoble 
 as this of sounds and space, and should 
 say that no words or sounds are sensi- 
 ble, or of any value and desirableness, 
 except such as articulate well-defl.ned 
 wants ; as if they were of no use in ex- 
 clamations of gladness, in tones and 
 words of joy, in the mazes and tropical 
 exuberance of love, in the sweet endear- 
 ments of friendship ; as if they were of 
 no use in music, in shouts of gladness, 
 and, in short, in any utterance except 
 those for servile uses 1 
 
 With regard to forms of prayer, these 
 may be of use, and are proper to be 
 used by all who need them ; but they 
 can never include the whole of that 
 
124 THE SCOPE OF PRAYER 
 
 utterance wliicli tlie soul should express 
 to God in prayer. 
 
 Some persons are often troubled re- 
 specting familiarity and irreverence in 
 prayer. But it should be remembered 
 by sucli that the confidence of love is 
 not irreverence. God permits His peo- 
 ple to plead with Him, and to pour out 
 their confidence freely. The exhortation 
 is explicit, " Let us come loldly to the 
 throne of grace." 
 
 Some are discouraged when, after con- 
 tinued communion with God, they do 
 not find any such range and progression 
 in prayer. To pray is, to many, like 
 speakiug a new and foreign language. 
 It must be learned. One is not sur- 
 prised that a foreign tongue is slowly 
 and brokenly spoken at first. Prayer 
 gains in scope and richness as the ele- 
 ments of spirituality increase and the 
 habit of expression is formed. 
 
^Je ^iTr of tfit .Spirit 
 
 Romans viii. 26. 
 *' Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities : for we know 
 not what we should pray for as we ought : but the Spirit 
 itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which can- 
 not be uttered." 
 
 Romans viii. 15. 
 *'For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; 
 but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, 
 Abba, Father." 
 
' The prayers I make will then be svreet indeed, 
 If Thou the Spirit give by which I pray ; 
 My unassisted heart is barren clay, 
 That of its native self can nothing feed ; 
 Of good and pious works Thou art the seed, 
 That quickens only where Thou say'st it may. 
 Unless Thou shew to us Thy own true way, 
 No man can find it. Father ! Thou must lead. 
 Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind 
 By which such virtue may in me be bred, 
 That in Thy holy footsteps I may tread ; 
 The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind. 
 That I may have the power to sing to Thee ! 
 And sound thy praises everlastingly." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
rije ^lU of tf)0 cSpirit, 
 
 17YE]Sr a glance of the sun is clieering, 
 ^ in a day of storms, or of clouds, 
 which, without storming, fill the air with 
 sullenness, and make twilight even at 
 noon-day. But what is this compared with 
 the brightness of the unobstructed sun all 
 the day long, filling the air above, overlay- 
 ing the earth, and jDOuring gold upon 
 every tree, stone, or house, until the eye 
 shrinks for very brightness ! 
 
 But the sunlight of a single day briogs 
 forth nothing. Such days come in De- 
 cember, in January, and amid the bois- 
 terous weeks of February and the tumult 
 of March. But nothing springs up. The 
 tree makes no growth. The light does 
 not enter in. It lies wide abroad, indeed 
 most beautiful, but nothing is created by 
 
128 THE AID OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 it; for burnislied icicles and frost-drops 
 are the onlj stems and flowers which 
 come from the slant and cold brightness 
 of the winter's sun. 
 
 It is only when, at length, the sun re- 
 turns from its equatorial pilgrimage, and 
 enters into the earth, and abides within 
 it, that life is awakened. The earth 
 knows his coming. In winter, nature 
 lies as if dead. The sun stretches itself 
 upon it, as did the prophet upon tlie 
 woman's son, and from every part there 
 is resurrection of root, stem, bud, and 
 flower. But none of these things happen 
 to casual and infrequent shining. They 
 are the fruit of indwelling heat. Not till 
 the sun enters in, and abides in the soil, 
 not till days and nights are struck through 
 with warmth, is there life and glory. 
 
 If this be so of the lower physical na- 
 ture, how much more eminently it is true 
 of the human soul, and of its Sun of 
 Eighteousness ! It is a gladsome thing 
 in toil and trouble to have a single bright 
 
THE AID OF THE SPIRIT. 129 
 
 flash from the face of God. A prisoner 
 ill a dungeon may have but one small 
 window, and that far up, and out of the 
 way of the sun, while for months and 
 months not one single day does the yellow 
 sun send one single and solitary ray 
 through the poor little window. But at 
 length, in changing its place in the heav- 
 ens, there comes a day in which, to Lis 
 surprise and joy, a flash of light springs 
 through and quivers on the wall. It vi- 
 brates upon his heart still more tremu- 
 lously than on the wall. Even thus much 
 gives joy. It warms nothing, and lights 
 but little ; but it brings back summer to 
 his soul. It tells him that the sun is not 
 dead, but walks the heavens yet. That 
 single ray speaks of fields, of trees, of 
 birds, and of the whole blue heavens! 
 So is it often in life. It is in the power 
 of one blessed thought, in a truly Christ- 
 ian heart, to send light and joy for hours 
 and days. But that is not enough. It is 
 not enough for Christian growth, or 
 
130 THE AID OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 Christian noiirisliment, that despondency 
 sometimes hopes and darkness sometimes 
 smiles into light. A Christian is to be a 
 child of light, and to chuell in the light. 
 The whiteness of heavenly robes is the 
 light which they reflect from the face of 
 God. A Christian is to bear much fruit. 
 This he cannot unless he abides in sum- 
 mer. For mere relief, even a casual 
 visit of God's grace is potential. Bat for 
 fruit — much fruit, and ripened fruit — 
 nothing will suffice but the whole sum- 
 mer sun. 
 
 Now, this indwelling of the Holy Spirit 
 is both to be prayed for and to be pos- 
 sessed. There is provision in the gospel 
 for this very blessing. It is the promise 
 of the Father, and the pledge of the Son. 
 It is made to be a Christian's duty to pray 
 for it and to expect it. For^ in very deed, 
 there can be no true and full Christian 
 riiDeness without it. The soul forms no 
 habits, and comes to no spiritual con- 
 formity to God, by jets and flashes of ex- 
 
TITE AID OF THE SPIRIT. 131 
 
 citement. These have their use, and are 
 to be gladly accepted. But the soal must 
 lie long in the light ; it must abide in Di- 
 vine warmth. There must be spiritual 
 summer where there is to be much fruit. 
 Our thoughts are like our bodies; men 
 cannot come to good breeding by an oc- 
 casional entrance into good society. It is 
 habitual commerce with grace and ameni- 
 t}^ that fashions a man to politeness. It 
 is livino- in studious habits that makes a 
 
 o 
 
 man learned. And even more, it is abid- 
 ing in God, and having the indwelling of 
 His Spirit with us, that bring the soul to 
 good manners, if we may so speak, in Di- 
 vine things. 
 
 It seems an impossible thing to many 
 to carr}^ the presence and influence of the 
 Spirit of God through all the whirl and 
 occupation of life. Is it impossible for a 
 young soldier to carry the spirit of love 
 with him through camp, march, and bat- 
 tle ? Is it dif&cult for the parent to carry 
 his soul ftdl of domestic affections through 
 
132 THE AID OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 the business of the day ? Is it impossi- 
 ble, or even difficult, for us to cany with- 
 in us any feeling which is deep and 
 strong, and which we love, in spite of 
 exterior disturbance ? 
 
 N'ay, do we not see every day that the 
 heart, by such enthusiasms or deep emo- 
 tions, not only goes unchanged through 
 burdensome life, but casts out of itself a 
 flood of radiance, and makes its path light 
 by its own cheerfulness or joy ? Love in 
 the soul is like perfume in the garments. 
 Heat cannot melt it, nor cold freeze it, 
 nor the winds blow it away. Going forth 
 or coming home, it scatters itself, but is 
 not wasted ; it is for ever going, but never 
 gone. And the love of God shed abroad 
 in the soul surpasses all fragrance in in- 
 exhaustible diffusiveness. If men have 
 only a little love, an occasional spark, it 
 may be troublesome to nourish it when 
 the world casts down on it green fuel. 
 A large fire waxes larger by that very 
 wind which blows out a small flame. It 
 
THE AID OF THE SPIRIT 133 
 
 is even as St. Peter saith: "If these 
 things be in }^on, and abound^ they make 
 you that ye shall neither be barren nor 
 unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 The work of the Spirit is not to super- 
 sede, but to help our faculties. It is akin 
 to parental training, to education, to the 
 action and influence of one mind upon 
 another. Kot that God's mind acts upon 
 ours just as ours acts upon others ; for we 
 have no warrant for saying this. But the 
 illustration is sufficient to shew that one 
 mind may stimulate another to action 
 without destroying its liberty. The young 
 artist, w^hile he sits under Kaphael, or 
 Michael Angelo, or Correggio, does not 
 expect to have his work done by his mas- 
 ter. He goes to witness and to catch his 
 master's enthusiasm, that his own eye may 
 be fired and his own hand guided. We 
 bring up our children by the action of 
 our minds upon theirs. Our influence 
 over the child does not take away any- 
 
134 THE AID OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 thing from the child's power, but, on the 
 contrary, adds to it. And so, God says 
 to us, " Work out your own salvation, for 
 I am working in you." It is like a father 
 saying to his children, "Here am I work- 
 ing among you, adding my experience, 
 my wisdom, and my power to yours; 
 therefore be hopeful and courageous, and 
 enter with zeal upon your work." It is 
 an argument of hope and ardour, and not 
 of waiting and faltering. It is an argu- 
 ment to begin noiu^ and not to delay, with 
 the vain thought that God will finally do 
 all the work and leave us nothing to do. 
 If it be asked how shall we distinguisli 
 Divine influence from natural, the reply 
 is, We cannot always do it. There is no 
 intimation in the JSTew Testament that 
 anybody can tell. If a husbandman 
 wishes to know whether he is under the 
 influence of right farming, he must go 
 and look at his harvests. If, therefore, 
 a man says, " How can I tell whether 
 this feeling is of God or of Satan?" he 
 
THE AID OF THE SPIRIT. 135 
 
 cannot tell by the feeling, but by its re- 
 sults. 
 
 The human faculties, whether acted 
 upon by sinister spirits, by Divine influ- 
 ences, or by natural causes, always act 
 within the lines and limits of their own 
 laws and nature. And it is not any 
 difference in sensation or consciousness 
 which can distinguish Divine influenc-e 
 from any other. We must abide b}^ 
 Christ's rule of estimate, " By their fruit 
 shall ye know them." Is the fruit good ? 
 is there enough of it ? is it continuous ? 
 It is very certain that a disposition of 
 deep benevolence, a heart' of unfeigned 
 love, will lead a man in the right direc- 
 tion, and he need not spend one anxious 
 thought lest the devil should have in- 
 spired him with such influence. 
 
 On the other hand, conceited and pre- 
 sumptuous men are found, who, assum- 
 ing that they are under the Divine influ- 
 ence and guidance, follow out their own 
 selfish and fleshlj- lusts, and attribute it 
 all to God. But no man can have any 
 
136 THE AID OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 evidence that lie is moved bj the Spirit 
 of God, except in so far as the fruit is 
 divine. It does not lie merely in con- 
 sciousness, in sensation, in any witness 
 or inward light, in any degree or kind 
 of exhilaration, or in the pleasurea- 
 bleness or other quality of the feeling. 
 The moral quality of the life determines 
 whether one is a child of God or of the 
 devil. 
 
 What, then, is the use- of the truth of 
 God's Spirit, if you cannot discern its 
 presence or action ? It is good for gene- 
 ral hopefulness. It gives to men cour- 
 age to know that they are divinely help- 
 ed, though they may not perceive the 
 special acts. It is an exorcism to fear 
 and superstition ; for it exhibits the world 
 as illumined and overcome by the gra- 
 cious presence of God working both in 
 providence and in grace, and throwing 
 around all who will do well an atmos- 
 phere of protection and genial excite- 
 ment, in which they shall thrive and 
 bring forth abundant fruit. 
 
" Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire. 
 And lighten with celestial fire, 
 Thou the anointing Spirit art, 
 Who dost thy seven-fold gifts impart. 
 
 " Thy blessed unction from above, 
 Is comfort, life, and fire of love. 
 Enable with perpetual light 
 The dulness of our blinded sight. 
 
 ** Anoint and cheer our soiled face 
 With the abundance of Thy grace. 
 Keep far our foes, give peace at home ; 
 Where Thou art guide, no ill can come. 
 
 ** Teach us to know the Father, Son, 
 And Thee, of both, to be but One ; 
 That, through the ages all along, 
 This may be our endless song : 
 
 " Praise to Thy eternal merit, 
 Father, Son, and Holy Spirit" 
 
fJ^nmilits ^iJtfore ^otf. 
 
 Joel ii. 12, 33. 
 " Therefore also now, saith the Lord, Turn ye even to me with 
 all your heart, and with festing, and with weeping, and 
 with mourning : and rend your heart, and not your gar- 
 ments, and turn unto the Lord your God : for he is gracious 
 and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness." 
 
 MiCAH Ti. 8. 
 " He hath shewed thee, man, what is good ; and what doth 
 the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to lore mer- 
 cy, and to walk humbly with thy God ?" 
 
 1 John I 8, 9. 
 " If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the 
 truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and 
 just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all un- 
 righteousness." 
 
 Psalm cii. 17. 
 
 " He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despite 
 
 their prayer." 
 
*' Come, let us to the Lord our God 
 With contrite hearts return ; 
 Our God is gracious, nor will leave 
 The desolate to mourn. 
 
 *' His voice commands the tempest forth 
 And stills the stormy wave ; 
 And though Ilis arm be strong to smite, 
 'Tis also strong to save. 
 
 " Long hath the night of sorrow reign'd ; 
 The dawn shall bring us light ; 
 God shall appear, and we shall rise 
 "With gladness in His sight. 
 
 " Our hearts, if God we seek to know. 
 
 Shall know Him, and rejoice ; 
 
 His coming like the morn shall be, 
 
 Like morning songs His voice. 
 
 " As dew upon the tender herb, 
 Diffusing fragrance round ; 
 As show'rs that usher in the spring, 
 And cheer the thirsty ground : 
 
 " So shall His presence bless our souls, 
 And shed a joyful light ; 
 That hallow'd morn shall chase away 
 The sorrows of the night." 
 
fj^nmilitv tjcfort (Kfotr, 
 
 ITHIKK that a view of what we are 
 before God, of our leanness, of our lit- 
 tleness, of our weakness and imperfec- 
 tion, is enough to keep down the risings 
 of any man's pride. There are times 
 when, if a man should receive a full, 
 clear view of what he is himself, in com- 
 parison with what God is, all hope and 
 almost life itself would be crushed out of 
 him ! And it is only when God reveals 
 Himself in the person of Jesus Christ, 
 pardoning sins, and overlooking our er- 
 rors and imperfections, that we are en- 
 abled to have hope ! But while, in the 
 view of God, every Christian feels that 
 he is not only sinful, but ignominiously 
 so, and degraded beyond all expression, 
 yet there is in his experience of the love 
 
142 HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. 
 
 whicli Christ has for him, notwithstand- 
 ing his weakness and impurity, a certain 
 boldness that lifts him np and gives him 
 confidence to stand in the very presence 
 of God! 
 
 Did you ever see a child, which 
 through a period of days and -weeks 
 had little by little been gathering mis- 
 chief and disobedience, and seeming to be 
 working for a whipping? By and by 
 he comes to a state in which it is plain 
 that there must be an outbreak; and 
 an occasion occurs, perhaps, from some 
 triflins; circumstances, in which he is 
 brought to a direct issue with the par- 
 ent, and the question is. Who shall con- 
 quer, the mother or the child ? She ex- 
 postulates, but the child grows red and 
 swells with anger ; she pleads with him, 
 and uses all her power to bring him to a 
 reconciliation on the basis of justice; 
 but nothing will do ; and at last, when 
 everything else has failed, and she has 
 been unable by gentle means to subdue 
 
HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. 143 
 
 Lis haughty pride — if she does what she 
 ought to do, she gives him a sound whip- 
 ping ! He is quickly subdued, and filled 
 with shame, yet not entirely humbled; 
 but when he sees the much-loving moth- 
 er, who has wept with even more pain 
 and suffering than the child himself, go- 
 ing about the room — a kind of living 
 music to the child's unconscious feeling ! 
 — taking her seat at last in some window- 
 nook, with sorrow upon her face, he 
 comes to himself, and, thinking a mo- 
 ment, feels that all the old dark flood of 
 ugliness has gone away, and an entirely 
 new feeling begins to take possession of 
 him. He looks at the face of the mother, 
 with love swelling in his heart, and wish- 
 es that he were sitting at her feet. And 
 when she says, "My child, why do you 
 not come to me?" — with another burst 
 of tears, not of pain and wounded feel- 
 ing, but of joy and love, he throws him- 
 self into her arms, and buries his head 
 in her bosom ! Ah ! if I remember 
 
144 HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. 
 
 aright, I can recount many similar ex- 
 periences in my own early life; and I 
 am brought back into the remembrance 
 of such childhood's scenes, because the 
 relation of my own disobedient heart to 
 my mother when she punished me, is the 
 best illustration which I can give you of 
 the relation of the soul of a rebelling 
 child of God to His chastising hand ! 
 When, after being puffed up with pride 
 and vanity, from being engaged in world- 
 ly pursuits, and being contented with 
 mere worldly moralities, I am suddenly, 
 by afflictions, or disappointments, or by 
 the direct visitation of God's Holy Spir- 
 it, humbled and brought to the very 
 earth with contrition ; oh, who can tell 
 how sweet it is to take hold of the out- 
 reaching hand of the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and go up into the confidence and em- 
 brace of His love! I am nothing my- 
 self: I am entirely humbled and sub- 
 dued ; only I feel His love in my heart, 
 and my heart swells with love in return. 
 
HUMILITY BEFORE GOD. 145 
 
 These are days of sweetness ! These are 
 daj^s of heavenly joy ! These are days 
 of true humility ! Oh, how lowly a man 
 bows, and how lowly he walks, who has 
 a view of his own littleness and empti- 
 ness in comparison with the greatness 
 and the fulness of the ever-living and 
 ever-loving God ! 
 
Wf\t JPragrr^JHcctinfl, 
 
 Malachi iii. 16, 17. 
 ' fhen they that feared the Lord spake often one to at other : 
 and the Lord hearkened, and heard it, and a book of re- 
 membrance was written before him for them that feared the 
 Lord, and that thought upon his name. And they shall be 
 mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up 
 my jewels ; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own 
 son that serveth liim." 
 
 ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 
 
 ' Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thine heart be hasty 
 to utter any thing before God : for God is in heaven, and 
 thou upon earth : therefore let thy words be few." 
 
 1 John- ii. 23, 29. 
 ' And now, little children, abide in him ; that when he shall ap- 
 pear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before 
 him at his coming. If ye know that he is righteous, ye know 
 that every one that doeth righteousness is born of him." 
 
 Matthew xviii. 19, 20. 
 ■ Again I say unto you. That if two of you shall agree on eartli 
 as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done 
 for tliem of my Father which is in heaven. For where two 
 or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in 
 the midst of them." 
 
" Jesus, where'er Thy people meet, 
 There they behold Thy mercy-seat ; 
 Where'er they seek Thee, Thou art found, 
 And every place is hallow'd ground. 
 
 " For Thou, within no walls confined, 
 Inhabitest the humble mind ; 
 Such ever bring Thee where they come, 
 And going, take Thee to their home. 
 
 " Dear Shepherd of Thy chosen few, 
 Thy former mercies here renew ; 
 Here to our waiting hearts proclaim 
 The sweetness of Thy saving name. 
 
 " Here may we prove the power of prayer 
 To strengthen faith, and sweeten care ; 
 To teach our faint desires to rise, 
 And bring all heaven before our eyes. 
 
 " Behold, at Thy commanding word. 
 We stretch the curtain and the cord ; 
 Come Thou and fill this wider space, 
 And bless us with a large increase. 
 
 •' Lord, we are few, but Thou art near ; 
 Nor short Thine arm, uor deaf Thine ear : 
 Oh rend the heavens, come quickly down. 
 And make a thousand hearts Thine own !" 
 
 COWPEK. 
 
rijc JlraijtC'JHcetins- 
 
 4 PRAYER-MEETIXa is a place for 
 ■^ social religious life. It is not for 
 preaching, nor is it necessarily for ex- 
 hortation. It is a place where Christ- 
 ians MEET to instruct and strengthen one 
 another by a free and familiar develop- 
 ment of their religions experiences and 
 emotions. It is an altar for whose fire 
 every Christian brings a brand, and where 
 the whole pile is made up of the added 
 faggots of many enkindled hearts. 
 
 This is the primary idea of a praj^er- 
 meeting. It is evident, therefore, that the 
 first step towards a wholesome meeting is 
 truthfulness. Yet it is this important ele- 
 ment which is apt to be most often lack- 
 ing. It is thought necessary, even by ad- 
 vanced Christians, to assume a sense of 
 
150 THE PRAYER-MEETING. 
 
 awful responsibility, to put on an air of 
 profound solemnity, and to manifest an 
 eminently devout spirit. But these feel- 
 ings are never proper, except when they 
 are real. They should never be assumed. 
 They should never be put on and worn 
 as a kind -of appropriate dress, becoming 
 to the occasion. Men should not lay aside 
 their naturalness before God, any more 
 than before men — and even less, as God 
 can see through the guise when men may 
 not. They should not pretend to be what 
 they are not, any more in a prayer-meet- 
 ing with their brethren than alone in their 
 own private closet. Any pretentious 
 mood, or any forced and artificial feeling, 
 will always do harm, for it will overlay 
 the mind, as straw and dry leaves overlay 
 the soil, so that nothing is able to spring 
 up. 
 
 No man should utter a word in a pray- 
 er-meeting which is not spoken in sin- 
 cerity. It is a great and grievous sin for 
 a man to utter prayers to God when his 
 
THE PRAYER-MEETiya. lol 
 
 heart neither suggests nor enters into the 
 petitions. It is a piece of mockery that 
 no man would endure, much less God. 
 For any creature to bow before his Crea- 
 tor, and say prayers, whether they be 
 long or short, printed or unprinted, which 
 do not engage his heart, but which he ut- 
 ters from a mere sense of duty, or from 
 superstitious fear, or from habit, is an in- 
 expressible audacity. Yet it is often done. 
 And it is said, " If you do not feel like 
 praying, pray till you do." ISTow, there 
 certainly are degrees of interest ; and a 
 man may be blameless for experiencing 
 less fervour at the beginning of a devo- 
 tional period than at the end of it. But 
 for a man to employ prayer as a mere ex- 
 ercise, or as a mere mode of giving him- 
 self a stirring up — to stand before God 
 and assume the tones, the language, the 
 manner of feeling, for the sake of coming 
 by and by into the feeling, is a desecra- 
 tion of prayer almost blasphemous. 
 If it be asked, " What, then, shall a 
 
152 THE PRAYER-MEETING. 
 
 man do? Sliall he neglect prayer until 
 he does feel? Shall he refuse to take 
 part in a prayer-meeting until the glow is 
 upon him?" the answer is, that such a 
 man should not neglect prayer, neither in 
 his closet, nor jDerhaps in the prayer-meet- 
 ing. But he must prepare himself for 
 prayer. He must watch and study for 
 the disposition. He should refresh his 
 mind with scriptural truths, and should 
 consider his own wants and sinfulness. 
 This he should do apart from noise and 
 excitement, if possible ; and he may be 
 aided in doing it by employing hymns 
 and psalms, which will oftentimes speedily 
 carry his mind out of a dull and dead 
 frame into some beofinninffs of life. He 
 
 o o 
 
 may thus come into a state in which 
 prayer Avill not be a stupid act, or a dead 
 form, but the glowing expression of a 
 living feeling. 
 
 This is a proper preparation for prayer, 
 whether public or private. If prayers in 
 a prayer-meeting cannot be genuine, they 
 
THE PRAYER-MEETING. 153 
 
 might better be omitted, and hymns snng 
 in their place. If but a single sentence is 
 uttered, let it be real ; and let utterance 
 cease when the heart no longer prompts — 
 and the heart will often have ceased its 
 promptings long before a recitation of fif- 
 teen minutes is concluded. One moment 
 of real communion with God is praj'er, 
 but a whole hour of recited words, with- 
 out feeling, is not prayer, and is worse 
 than none. 
 
 The way to kill a prayer-meeting is to 
 make it conventional : and the chief se- 
 cret of conducting it so that it shall min- 
 ister to edification, is to force people out 
 of conventional ways ; to break uj) heredi- 
 tary and stereotyped unwritten forms of 
 prayer ; to charm men into forgetfulness 
 of the machinery of the meeting ; so that 
 they shall pray artlessly, naturally, and 
 sensibly. 
 
 But, above all, let all pretei^.ce, all 
 mock solemnity and devotion, be put 
 away. Let no man suffer himself to aD- 
 
154 THE FRAYER-MEETWG. 
 
 pear to his brethren to be what he is not ; 
 for this is part of the injunction, " Let 
 every man speak truth with his neigh- 
 bour." If this rule be not observed, and 
 the frequent tendencies to violate it be not 
 corrected, the praj^er-meeting will degen- 
 erate, and people will lose first all profit 
 and then all interest in them. For, what 
 if people should go to an evening party, 
 not in their natural character, but one 
 striving to be brilliant, another to be 
 witty, another to be instructive, another 
 to be profound ? Who could endure the 
 sham ? There is need in prayer-meetings 
 of men who are willing to stand simply 
 and only on what they are and what they 
 have. 
 
 The speaking in prayer-meetings should 
 be conversational, and so, natural. The 
 words spoken should flow naturally from 
 the heart's experience, or else it were 
 better to be silent. Usually, however, 
 when a man has nothing to say, be gets 
 up and exhorts sinners to repent ; or an- 
 
THE PRAYER-MEETING. 155 
 
 other, whose heart is empty, informs the 
 church that thej are very cold, and live 
 for beneath their privileges. Such pray- 
 ers or exhortations may be very glib and 
 fluent, but they are as dry of sap or juice 
 as last year's corn-husks. They are not 
 only profitless but damaging. On the 
 contrary, there are oftentimes prayers, 
 humble, timid, half inaudible, the utter- 
 ances of uncultivated lips, that may cut a 
 poor figure as literature, that are never- 
 theless not to be scornfully disdained. 
 If a child may not talk at all till he can 
 speak fluent English, he will never learn. 
 There should be a process going on con- 
 tinually of education, by which all the 
 members of the church should be able 
 to contribute of their experiences and 
 gifts ; and, in such a course of develop- 
 ment, the first hesitating, stumbling, un- 
 grammatical prayer of a confused Christ- 
 ian may be worth more to the church 
 than the best prayer of the most eloquent 
 pastor. The praj-er may be but little; 
 
156 THE PRAYER-MEETING. 
 
 but it is not a little thing that a church 
 has one more man who is beginning to 
 pray than it had before. 
 
 The conductor of a prayer-meetmg 
 should have a distinct conception of what 
 such a meeting is to be and to do ; and 
 as it is a mutual-instruction class, a place 
 for religious feeling to take the social ele- 
 ment, his chief duty should be to draw 
 out the timid, to check the obtrusive, to 
 encourage simple and true speaking, and 
 to apply religious truths to those wants 
 and struggles and experiences which are 
 freely mentioned there.* 
 
 ♦ See Appendix. 
 
" Jesus ! thy saints assemble here 
 Thy power and goodness to declare : 
 Oh, may these happy reasons prove 
 That we have known redeeming love ! 
 
 " And while of mercies past we speak, 
 And sing of endless joys to come, 
 Let Thy full glories on us break, 
 And every thought give Jesus room. 
 
 " Engrave Thy name on every heart, 
 And give us all, before we part, 
 The life-restoring joys to know 
 Which from Thy veins in rivers flow. 
 
 " No other food can we desire, 
 No other theme our bosoms fire, 
 But sovereign, rich, redeeming love 
 ■\Vhile here, and when we dwell above ! 
 
 " Thine everlasting love we sing, 
 The source whence all our pleasures spring 
 How deep it sinks, how high its flow. 
 No saint can tell, no angel know ! 
 
 *' Its length and breadth no eye can trace, 
 No thought explain the bounds of grace. 
 Like its dear Author's name, it shines 
 In infinite unfolded lines ! 
 
 " The love which saves our souls from hell. 
 On this side heaven we ne'er can tell ; 
 But when we reach bright Canaan's plains. 
 We'll sound it in immortal strains." 
 
 SWAIXE. 
 
^f^t Jlrapcrlcss ILife* 
 
 Hebretts iii. 12-15. 
 Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart 
 of unbelief, in departing from the living God. But exhort 
 one another daily, while it is called To-day ; lest any of you 
 be hardened through the deceitfulness of gin. For we are 
 made partaker? of Christ, if we hold the beginning of our 
 confidence stedfast unto the end ; while it is said. To-day if 
 ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts, as in the 
 provocation." 
 
' In streets, and openings of the gates, 
 
 Where pours the busy crowd, 
 Thus heav'nly Wisdom lifts her voice, 
 
 And cries to men aloud : 
 How long, ye scorners of the truth, 
 
 Scornful will ye remain ? 
 How long shall fools their folly love, 
 
 And hear my words in vain ? 
 
 * turn, at last, at my reproof ! 
 
 And, in that happy hour, 
 His bless'd effusions on your heart 
 
 My Spirit down shall pour, 
 But since so long, with earnest voice, 
 
 To you in vain I call. 
 Since all my counsels and reproofs 
 
 Thus ineffectual fall ; 
 
 ' The time will come, when humbled low, 
 
 In Sorrow's evil day. 
 Tour voice by anguish shall be taught. 
 
 But taught too late, to pray. 
 When, like the whirlwind, o'er the deep 
 
 Comes Desolation's blast : 
 Pray'rs then extorted shall be vain. 
 
 The hour of mercy past. 
 
 ■' The choice you made has fix'd your doom : 
 For this is Heav'n's decree. 
 That with the fruits of what he sow'd 
 The sinner fill'd shall be." 
 
Ki)t piMgcrlcss ILift. 
 
 TT7E liave known men — upon whose 
 ' * grounds waved magnificent trees of 
 centuries' growth, lifted up into the air 
 with vast breadth, and full of twilight at 
 mid-day — who cut down all these mighty 
 monarchs, and cleared the ground bare ; 
 and then, when the desolation was com- 
 plete, and the fierce summer gazed full 
 into their face with its fire, they be- 
 thought themselves of shade, and forth- 
 with set out a generation of thin, shadow- 
 less sticks, pining and waiting till they 
 should stretch out their boughs with 
 protection, and darken the ground with 
 grateful shadow. Such folly is theirs 
 who refuse the tree of life, the shadow 
 of the Almighty, and sit, instead, under 
 the feeble trees of their own planting, 
 
162 THE PRAYERLE8S LIFE. 
 
 Avhose tops will never be broad enougb 
 to shield them, and whose bonghs will 
 never voice to them the music of the air. 
 Some of the most remarkable figures of 
 the Bible are made to illustrate this sad 
 truth. 
 
 The mountains lift their tops so high 
 in the air that towering clouds, which 
 have no rest in the sky, love to come to 
 them, and, wrapping about their tops, 
 distil their moisture upon them. Thus 
 mountains hold commerce with Grod's 
 upper ocean, and, like good men, draw 
 supplies from the invisible. And so it 
 is that, in the times of drought in the 
 vales below, the rocks are always wet. 
 The mountain moss is always green. 
 The seams and crevices are always drip- 
 ping, and rock- veins are throbbing a full 
 pulse, while all the scene down below 
 faints for want of moisture. In some 
 hidden gorge, unvisited by the sun, these 
 cold rills bubble up and issue forth upon 
 their errand. Could one who builds his 
 
THE PRAYERLESS LIFE. 163 
 
 bouse upon the plain but meet and tap 
 tbese springs in the mountain, and lay 
 bis artificial channels to the very source, 
 be would never know wben drought 
 cometb. For mountain springs never 
 grow dry so long as clouds brood the 
 bill tops. Day and night they gush and 
 fall with liquid plash and unheard music ; 
 except when thirsty birds — to whose 
 song the rivulet all day long has been a 
 bass — stoop to drink at their crystal 
 edges! And be who has put himself 
 into communication with these mountain 
 springs shall never be unsupplied. While 
 artificial cisterns dry up, and crack for 
 dryness, this mountain fountain comes 
 night and day with cool abundance. 
 While others, with weary strokes, force 
 up from deep wells a penurious supply 
 of turbid water, he that has joined him- 
 self to a mountain spring has its voice in 
 his dwelling night and day, summer and 
 winter, without work or stroke of labour- 
 ing pump, clear, sweet, and cheerful ; 
 
1G4 THE FRAYERLESS LIFE. 
 
 running of its own accord to serve, and 
 singing at its work, more musical than 
 any lute ; and in its song bringing sug- 
 gestions of its mountain home. 
 
 With such a spring — near, accessible, 
 urging itself upon the eye and ear — how 
 great would be his folly who should 
 abandon it, and fill his attic with a lead- 
 en cistern, that forever leaked when full, 
 and was dry when it did not leak ! List- 
 en, then, to the Word of God — " My peo- 
 ple have committed two evils : they have 
 forsaken me, the fountain of living wa- 
 ters, and have hewed them out cisterns, 
 broken cisterns, that can hold no water." 
 
 Man is not made to be independent in 
 his powers. With all his endowments 
 he is made to lean on every side for sup- 
 port; and should his connexions on 
 either side be cut, he would droojD and 
 wither like a tree whose roots had been 
 sundered. 
 
 The eye carries no light with it, but 
 receives its sight from the luminous ele- 
 
TILE PRAYERLESS LIFE. 165 
 
 merit witliout. The ear liatli no sound 
 within it, but only receives it from with- 
 out. The tongue and throat beat upon 
 the air for vibrations, as a musician 
 strikes for musical sounds ; and if hin- 
 dered in their connexions or broken from 
 their dependencies, ear, tongue, and eye 
 would fall back into voiceless darkness. 
 And every bodily function is directly or 
 immediately joined to the physical world 
 in such a way, that, while man is lord of 
 creation, he is also its subject and de- 
 pendent, and must ask leave to exist 
 from the earth, the air, the sun, and the 
 clouds. 
 
 These dependent relations symbolise 
 the yet more important relations which 
 the soul sustains to God. Man is not 
 made to exist in rounded, perfect, and 
 independent spiritual life in his own right 
 and nature. He only is a perfect man 
 who has himself in the keeping of God. 
 The soul only, when divinely influenced, 
 receives its power. Our faculties, like 
 
i66 THE PRAYERLESS LIF^. 
 
 the eye that must be filled with, light 
 from without, wait for their power from 
 above. It is the Divine energy, acting 
 through the human faculty, that gives to 
 man his real existence. Nor does any 
 man know his power, his nature, his 
 richness of emotion, the height and 
 depth of his being, until he unfolds 
 under the influence of the Spirit of the 
 living God. 
 
 What is this influence which acts with- 
 in or upon the soul? I will tell you 
 when you will tell me what it is in light 
 and heat that works upon the root to 
 bring forth the stem ; what it is that 
 works within the stem to bring forth the 
 bud ; what it is that works upon the bud 
 to persuade it into blossom ; and what 
 that mysterious spirit is, that, dismissing 
 the beauty of the bloom, holds back its 
 life in the new form of fruit. It is light, 
 it is heat, it is moisture, it is the soil, it is 
 the plant, it is the vital energy of nature. 
 Thus we stand throwing words at a mar- 
 
THE PRAYERLESS LIFE. 167 
 
 vellous change, whose interior nature we 
 cannot search nor find out. " So is every 
 one that is born of the Spirit." 
 
 But of the fact itself, it is full of bless- 
 edness to know that the soul has a rela.- 
 tionship to God — personal, direct, vital — 
 and that it grows and blossoms by it, 
 while it languishes and dwarfs without it. 
 
 The body grows by its true connex- 
 ions with material nature ; the social af- 
 fections grow by their true relations to 
 men and society ; and the spiritual pow- 
 ers must grow by their true relations to 
 Grod. In the material world, the roots of 
 trees are in the ground, while the top 
 moves freely above. But the soul roots 
 upward, and so, like long pendulous 
 vines of air-plants, that root upon tropi- 
 cal branches^ has its liberty down toward 
 the earth. We are the branches of 
 Christ. " As the branch cannot bear 
 fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, 
 no more can ye except ye abide in me." 
 
 But is not this a bonda.^e and restric- 
 
168 THE FRAYERLES8 LIFE. 
 
 tion ? To selfisliness it may be ; but not 
 to love. Selfisliness grows strong by 
 shrinking, for concentration is tlie nature 
 of selfishness. But love grovfs by press- 
 ing outward and evolving. 
 
 That we are bound to God is as great 
 a restriction of our liberty, as it is to a 
 plant's freedom to be held by the sun ; 
 to the child's liberty, that the double- 
 orbed love of father and mother bear it 
 up from cradled nothiDgness to manly 
 power ; or to the human heart's liberty, 
 when, finding another life, two souls 
 move through the sphere of love, flying 
 now with double wings, but one spirit. 
 
 No man has come to himself who has 
 not known what it is to be utterly forget- 
 ful of self in loving. As a bird born in 
 a cage, and singing there, amid short, 
 impatient hops, from perch to wire, from 
 wire to ring, and from ring to perch 
 again, so is man unrenewed. As this 
 bird, when darting through the opened 
 door, feels with wondrous thrill the wide 
 
THE PRAYERLESS LIFE. 169 
 
 sweep of the open air, and dare not sing 
 for jo J, but goes from ground to limb, 
 from lower limb to higher, until the top- 
 most bough be reached, and then stoop- 
 ing for a moment, springs upward and 
 flies with wild delight, and fills the air 
 as it goes with all its sounds of ransomed 
 joy — so is the soul that first learns its 
 liberty in God, and goes singing heaven- 
 ward in all "the light and liberty of the 
 sons of God." 
 
 He who forsakes God for a greater lib- 
 erty, is like a babe lost from its mother. 
 They who refrain from God for the sake 
 of pleasure, are like men running from 
 the free air to seek sunlight amid shad- 
 ows and in dungeons. They who with- 
 draw from God that they may have 
 wider circuits of personal power, are like 
 birds that forsake the forests and fly 
 within the fowler's cage, to find a larger 
 bound and wider liberty. 
 
^ppcntri^. 
 
 " It has long appeared to my mind a 
 great evil that a certain cant phraseology^ 
 or stock of phrases^ has come somehow to 
 be handed about from parish to parish, 
 yea, down from generation to generation, 
 until our good people have learned to re- 
 gard it as all from the Bible — not only 
 adopting it into their family and social 
 prayers, but fathering it upon God's 
 Word. Here, however, detail is every- 
 thing ; and I will venture to give some 
 examples of the phraseology referred to, 
 arranging it, for the sake of distinctness, 
 under two or three heads. 
 
 " There is what might be called an un- 
 happy, sometimes quite grotesque, min- 
 gling of Scripture texts. Who is not 
 familiar with the following words ad- 
 
172 APPENDIX. 
 
 dressed to God in prayer, — ' Thou art the 
 high and lofty One that inhabiteth eter- 
 nity and the praises thereof^ — which is but 
 a jumble of two glorious texts, each glori- 
 ous taken by itself, both marred, and one 
 altogether 'lost indeed, when thus com- 
 bined and mingled. The one is Isaiah 
 Ivii. 15, ' Thus saith the high and lofty 
 One that inhahiteth eternity^ whose name 
 is Holy.' The other is Psalm xxii. 8, 
 ' Thou art holy, thou that inhah'test the 
 praises of IsraeV The inhabiting of the 
 praises of eternity.^ to say the least, is 
 meagre ; there were no praises in the past 
 eternity to inhabit. But what a glory is 
 there in God's condescending to inhabit, 
 take up His very abode, in the praises of 
 Israel, of the ransomed Church ! Then 
 there is an example nothing less than 
 grotesque, under this head, and yet one 
 in such frequent use, that I suspect it is 
 very generally regarded as having the 
 sanction of Scripture. Here it is — ' We 
 would put our hand on our mouth, and 
 
APPENDIX. 173 
 
 our mouth in the dust, and ciy out, Un- 
 clean, unclean ! God be merciful to me, 
 a sinner !' This is no fewer than four 
 texts joined, each beautiful by itself 
 First, Job xl. 4, ' Behold, I am vile ; what 
 shall I answer thee ? I will lay my hand 
 upon my mouth.' Second, Lamentations 
 iii. 29, ' He putteth his mouth in the 
 dust; if so be there may be hope.' 
 Third, Leviticus xiii. 45, where the leper 
 is directed to put a covering upon his 
 upper lip, and to cry, ' Unclean, un- 
 clean I' And fourth, the publican's pray- 
 er. But how incongruous a man's first 
 putting his hand on his mouth then put- 
 ting his mouth in the dust, and, last of 
 all, crjdng out, &c. ! 
 
 "The only other example I give under 
 this head, is an expression nearly uni- 
 versal among us, and, I suspect, almost 
 universally thought to be in Scripture — 
 'In thy favour is life, and thy loving- 
 kindness is better than life.' The fact is, 
 that this also is just an unhappy combina- 
 
174 APPENDIX. 
 
 tion of two passages, in which the term 
 life is "Qsed in altogether cliiFerent, and 
 even incompatible, senses — namely Psalm 
 XXX. 5, 'In his favour is life,' life, of 
 course, in the higher sense of true bless- 
 edness ; and Psalm Ixiii. 8, ' Thy loving- 
 kindness is better than life,' — where, ev- 
 idently, life means the present temporal 
 life. 
 
 " A second class maybe described as 
 ■unhappy alterations of Scripture lan- 
 guage. Need I say that the 130th 
 Psalm, ' Out of the depths,' &c., is one 
 of the most precious in the whole book 
 of the Psalms ? Why must we have the 
 words of David and the Holy Grhost thus 
 given in public prayer, and so constantly, 
 that our pious people come all to adopt 
 it into their social and family prayers, 
 ' There is forgiveness with thee, that thou 
 mayest be feared, and plenteous redemp- 
 tion, that thou mayest he sought after^ or 
 unto V How precious the simple words 
 as they stand in the Psalm, (ver. 4,) 
 
APPENDIX. 175 
 
 There is forgiveness with thee, that thou 
 mayest be feared :' (ver. 7, 8,) ' AVith the 
 Lord there is mercy, and with him is 
 plenteous redemption; and he shall re- 
 deem Israel from all his iniquities ! ' 
 Again in this blessed Psalm, the words 
 of the third verse, ' If thou, Lord, should 
 mark iniquities, Lord^ who shall stand?' 
 too seldom are left us in their naked sim- 
 plicity, but must undergo the following 
 change, ' If thou wert strict to mark in- 
 iquity,' &c. I remember in my old Col- 
 lege days, we used to have it in a much 
 more offensive shape, ' If thou wert strict 
 to mark and rigorous to punish ! ' 
 
 " Another favourite change is tlie fol- 
 lowing, — 'Thou art in heaven, and we 
 upon the earth ; therefore let our words 
 be few and ivell ordered^ Solomon's sim- 
 ple and sublime utterance (full of instruc- 
 tion, surely on the whole theme I am 
 dealing with) is, ' God is in heaven, and 
 thou upon earth ; therefore let thy words 
 hefew^ (Eccles. v. 2.) For another exam- 
 
176 APPENDIX. 
 
 pie under this class, see how Habakkiik's 
 sublime words are tortured, ' Thou art of 
 purer eyes than to behold evil, and canst 
 not look on sin without ahhorrencej The 
 words of the Holy Ghost are (Hab. i. 13,) 
 ' Thou art of purer eyes than to behold 
 evil, and canst not look on iniquity. 
 ISTeed I say that the power of the figure, 
 'canst not look on iniquity,' is nearly 
 lost, when you add that God can look on 
 it, only not without abhorrence ? 
 
 " A third class is made up of meaning- 
 less pleonasms, vulgar common-place re- 
 dundancies of expression, in quoting from 
 the Scriptures. One of these has become 
 so universal, that I venture to say you 
 seldom miss it, when the passage referred 
 to comes up at all. ' Be in the midst of 
 us,' (or, as some prefer to express it, I 
 humbly think not in the best taste, ' in our 
 midst') ' to bless us, and to do us goodJ 
 What additional idea is there in the last 
 expression, ' and to do us good ?' The 
 passage referred to is Exod. xx. 24, ' In 
 
APPENDIX. 177 
 
 all places where I record my name, I 
 will come unto jou, and I will bless you.' 
 Such is the simplicity of Scripture. Our 
 addition is, 'bless us and do us good.' 
 In Dan. iv. 35, we read the noble words, 
 'ISTone can stay his hand, or say unto 
 him, What doest thou?' The favourite 
 change is, ' Kone can stay thy hand/ror/i 
 luorhing.'' 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear 
 heard, neither have entered into the heart 
 of man the things which God hath pre- 
 pared for them that love him.' This is 
 changed, ' neither hath it entered into the 
 heart of man to conceive the things.' Con- 
 stantly we hear God addressecl as ' the 
 hearer and answerer of prayer ' — a mere 
 vulgar and useless pleonasm, for the 
 Scripture idea of God's hearing prayer is 
 just His answering it— '0 thou that 
 hearest prayer, unto thee shall all flesh 
 come;' 'Hear my prayer, O Lord;' 'I 
 ]ove the Lord because he hath heard my 
 voice and my supplications.' Whence, 
 again, that common-place of public pray- 
 
178 APPENDIX. 
 
 er, ' Thy consolations are neither few nor 
 small.' The reference, I suppose, is to 
 these words of Job, ' Are the consolations 
 of God small with thee ?' So one scarce 
 ever hears that prayer of the seventy- 
 fourth Psalm, ^ Have respect to the cov- 
 enant, for the dark places of the earth are 
 full of the habitations of cruelty,' without 
 the addition, ^horrid cruelty;"' nor the 
 call to prayer in Isaiah, 'Keep not si- 
 lence, and give him no rest, till he estab- 
 lish, and till he make Jerusalem a praise 
 in the earth,' without the addition 'the 
 tvhole earth;' nor that appeal of the 
 Psalmist, ' Whom have I in heaven but 
 thee ? and there is none upon earth that 
 I desire beside thee,' without the addi- 
 tion ' none in all the earth.' These last 
 may seem small matters, indeed. And 
 so they are, nor were worth finding fault 
 with, did they occur but occasionally. 
 Bat viewed as stereotyped common- 
 places^ weak enough in themselves, and 
 occurring so often as to give an impres- 
 
APPENDIX. 179 
 
 sion of their having Scripture authority, 
 I humbly think they ought to be dis- 
 countenanced and discarded — banished 
 wholly from our Presbyterian worship. 
 It will, perhaps, surprise you to learn 
 that the only Scripture authority for that 
 favourite, and somewhat peculiar expres- 
 sion, about the ' wicked rolling sin as a 
 sweet morsel under their tongue,' is the 
 following words in the book of Job (xx. 
 12,) ' Though wickedness be sweet in his 
 mouth, though he hide it under his 
 tongue.' 
 
 " As for some old, almost heathenish, 
 expressions one used to hear, I hope they 
 are pretty well out among us — such as, 
 'Thou art the greatest, and wisest, and 
 best of all beings.' Of course this is not 
 to be endured from a Christian pulpit. 
 Holy Scripture never speaks of God as 
 greatest, wisest, best, but as the 'I am,' 
 'only wise,' 'only good,' 'who only 
 doeth great wonders,' and so on." — TJie 
 Rev. C. F. Brown^s Tract on Prayer. 
 
I 
 
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 N