XV.

PRAYER.

PRAYER is when you speak with God.

Naturally this is, or should be, mainly, a private conversation. Hence, Jesus insisted, "When thou prayest, enter into thy closet."

He to whom we speak when we pray is "Our Father in Heaven," and Jesus impressed upon his hearers, continually, this relation of children to a father. As all His instruction was reasonable, so also this; for if there is a future life this describes the obvious and natural relation between men and Him who created men.

We are weak, He is strong; we are ignorant, He is wise; we are short-sighted, He sees the end from the beginning.

Similar in a degree are the differences between little children here and their earthly father. They cannot comprehend his purposes, much less his laws, which, though made for their good, seem in their eye harsh and often tyrannical. They ask, and he denies; they prefer their own wisdom, but he com

pels them to his; they plan, and he interrupts their plans. Only as they come to years of discretion do the children of wise and thoughtful parents even begin to comprehend the care which has, oftenest unknown to them, guided their early years; the loving kindness which denied, and disappointed, and compelled, and, with endless efforts, led the young body and mind to good habits and good principles, and which, meantime, had often to bear with disobedience, misconduct, inattention, and misapprehension.

In this relation, as Jesus taught, men and women stand towards God, "Our Father in Heaven." "Except ye become as little children," He said, "ye cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven."

Now, what a loving father expects of his children is, not that they shall, at once, be unfailingly perfect. He knows that to the building up of the character of his children go years of patient training and personal experience; that this work is not completed even when they are young men and women. His first desire is that they shall love him; for it is only when he has secured their love and confidence that they will be inclined patiently and confidingly, or faithfully, to follow his instructions. Through their love he looks to see the growth of faith in his superior wisdom; that faith which,

while it will not, as he knows, shield them against disappointments, or absolve them from obedience to his will, yet tempers their sorrows, and makes submission reasonable, and hence easier.

A child asks many things of its parents, and is often refused. It asks many things which seem to it reasonable, but which the greater wisdom of the parent denies, because they are hurtful or unreasonable-not because he takes pleasure in denying the wishes of his children.

What, then, shall we, grown men and women-but still children in all wisdom compared with our Father in Heaven-what shall we ask Him for when we pray?

We

If He is really our Father, I think we may undoubtedly so speak to Him as a child here speaks to the father of whose love it feels assured. may tell Him all that is in our hearts. We may isk Him for everything which seems to us desirable. We may come to Him with all our cares, burdens, anxieties, sorrows, wishes. "Cast your care (or anxiety) upon the Lord, for He careth for you," says the Scripture.

But we are to ask not as petulant, or greedy, or unreasonable beings; we are to pray, knowing that He to whom our prayer is addressed is infinitely wiser than we who ask, and knows what we cannot

know-what is for our best good. He would not be our Father if we could not go to Him with all our fears and hopes, our sorrows and joys-if we could not open to Him our hearts and our thoughts. But neither would He be our Father if He should use no wisdom in the answers to our prayers; nor should we be dutiful or loving children if we asked without confidence in His love and wisdom.

The sum of all prayer to God is in these words: "Thy will be done." But is it not the same with every request which a thoughtful child makes of its parents? Is it not the same with every prayer which a good soldier addresses to his general? Is it not the natural, the proper and necessary sum of every prayer made by an ignorant person to one of greater intelligence or wisdom? We wish ardently for many things in this life: how often and often we see, later, that had our desires of the time been granted, they would have been for us the greatest misfortunes!

"I thank God oftener for those wishes which have been ungratified than those which were fulfilled," said a middle-aged man—and only spoke the common experience of most men and women who have lived considerate and intelligent lives.

What we call "natural laws" are the common rules of that household in which God is "our Fa

ther." We may violate those laws, but this violation brings its own punishment. Does that seem hard? Or unreasonable? Would it not be really unreasonable if God had provided either that it should be impossible for us to break these laws, or that we should not suffer from doing so? If God is our Father, we may reasonably regard it as an evidence of His interest in us that he leaves us at liberty to break His laws, and to bring upon ourselves the punishments which follow; because this experience, often sorrowful enough, this suffering from which we shrink, secures what, in view of the future and real life, is the needed development of our faculties and powers. A wise father knows that it is the child which has burned its fingers, and not that which has been persistently guarded by nurses from doing so, which is most certain not to play with fire.

The prayer of faith is necessarily the prayer of him who believes that God will do that which is for the best; of him who does his duty, and willingly leaves the result to God. On any other consideration prayer would be the unreasonable appeal of a creature of finite and very limited intelligence to a servant of absolute power without intelligence—that is to say, it would be an absurdity. You have probably read of what were foolishly called "prayer tests," which disclosed this singular notion, that God is to