ten. Like Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, and Watt's sacred poetry, it would have been a book for the world. That such will be the destiny of the present treatise, I am not vain enough to suppose; but where a work is so much needed, and where others have done nothing, I shall not be blamed for doing what I can to meet the want, leaving it for abler hands to complete what I but begin.

CHAPTER III.

Some Things Common to All Prayer.

THERE are things essential and common to all forms and occasions of prayer; and unless these be understood, all rules, and directions, and enforcements of prayer in any particuar aspect of it, must be of little use. We may, indeed, take it for granted, that these things are already familiar to all my readers, and this is probably to a considerable extent true; yet, in a treatise like this, these points cannot well be passed over.

The duty and use of prayer are common topics, and as abstract truths, there can be no need of proving them; and yet on these points,

apparently so plain, a few thoughts may not be amiss.

All know that to us, there are needed things, which if coming at all, must come as the gift of God. Again, if God is to bestow upon us these gifts, He must do it either as asked or unasked; i.e., we must pray for them, or receive them without prayer. Some of these blessings God may indeed give, and does give, whether we pray for them or not. For it is written, "He maketh His sun to shine on the evil and on the good, and sendeth his rain on the just and on the unjust." This we see and know, in attestation of the goodness of God. The saint, that walks with God from day to day, and the most thankless wretch that sees the light, are in this alike. The morning sunshine falls as benignly upon the one as upon the other. Their fields lie side by side, and with equal tillage, grow with equal luxuriance.

When the earth has been for weeks parched under a summer sun, and vegetation looks drooping and sickly, the timely and looked-for shower refreshes the fields and purifies the air for the wicked man, as much as for the good.

But even in things the most fixed by the uniform laws of Providence, the witholding of filial trust, and grateful praise, as all the prayerless do, cannot but be displeasing to the

great Dispenser of good. Nor of the most common blessings of life, do we know how many are gained in answer to prayer. The laws of Providence in nature, have a guiding hand, and that hand is moved by prayer; and who is competent to say, that were it not for the praying ones on the earth, the wheels of nature would stop in their course and instant destruction ensue?

Ten praying men could have averted from Sodom the fiery shower, and for one prophet, the laws of gravitation were counteracted, and the waters of Jordon were parted. What then may not God do, for the sake of ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands, who cry day and night before him?

The same event happening to all alike, by no means secures to all an equal good.

The same wind which bears one vessel rapidly and safely to its destined haven, may dash another upon hidden rocks. The balmy breath of evening may invigorate and refresh one constitution, and at the same time germinate the seeds of death in another.

But in reference to the inner man, the diverse influences of the same apparent cause are the most striking. To the pious soul, the sunshine, and the flowers, and the ten thousand charms of nature, are but so many conductors

between heaven and earth, bearing upward holy aspirations to the throne of God, and downward from that throne those movings of the Spirit which cause God's children to rejoice, with joy unspeakable and full of glory. How sublimely and how blessedly does the spiritual, praying man say, as he looks upward in the starry night, "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handy work, day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge!" The garden, the orchard, the green fields, the extended landscape, the river, the ocean, are so many treasures of delight to the devout; and the rich and the poor share the inheritance alike.

And yet, to the ungodly and the prayerless, these things are valueless. An unholy and unconfiding frame of mind, may strip nature of all her loveliness. It may turn the very sunshine into darkness, and make the flowers sickening. The sweet, soft music of the birds and the bees, may scathe the soul, and good itself may become hateful; and to see God in these things may be the climax of horror. Such, we apprehend, are some of the elements of the worm and the fire, as they begin to gnaw and to burn, on this side the grave.

But the minds even of the wicked are not always in this state. Though they neither love

nor fear God, they may for a season rejoice in his works. He who has spread out so many beauties before them, has also given them taste to perceive and relish these beauties; nor is this taste necessarily destroyed by sin. The prayerless and the praiseless may have tastes highly refined, and intellects highly cultivated, and by them the beauties of nature may be fully perceived and delighted in. But then these things lure the heart away from God, and to the graceless become so many links in a chain by which Satan binds his victims.

This chain may seem to be made of gold, and wreathed with flowers; it may appear at first weak, and its action may be all but imperceptible; but it is continually thickening and hardening in its progress, becoming at length a chain of heated iron, burning and scathing the ungodly sufferer, soon to be riveted by devils to some fixture in their dark abode. Such may be the ultimate difference between praying and being prayerless.

These are indeed dreadful thoughts, but dreadful only because they are true.

Thus, then, is it shown, that in things which seem the most uniform and fixed, there is a use, and a beauty in prayer.