ry, than impressed upon the heart. And is there not some danger, that not only the mere formalist, but even, the immoral man may apply to himself sentiments, declarations, assurances, and comforts, which can only belong to the real Christian? For instance; the arrogant man, as if, like the dervise in the Persian fable, he had shot his soul into the character he assumes, repeats with complete self-application, 'Lord, I am not high-minded; the trifler says, 'I hate vain thoughts;' the irreligious, Lord how I love thy law. He who seldom prays at all, confidently repeats, All the day long I am oc. cupied in thy statutes.' The covetous, in the words of Paul or David, with as much self-complacency deprecates avarice, as if the anathema against it had ever opened either his heart or his purse. On the other hand, as the hardest substances, by continual attrition, are at length penetrated, it is the pleasing task of charity to hope, that the habitual repetition of such feelings, sentiments, and principles may sink into the hard heart, may lead its possessor to look into himself, to compare what he feels with what he reads, and by discovering the discrepancy between his life and his prayers, may open his eyes on his own danger, till by the grace of God the holy vehicle of his hypocrisy may be made that of his conversion. mulated expressions, he has exhausted language, by all the variety of synonymes which express love, mercy, pardon, and acceptance. They are graciously crowded together, that the trembling mourner who was not sufficiently assured by one, might be encouraged by another. And it is the consummation of the Divine goodness that this message is not sent by his ambassador, but that the King of kings, the blessed and only Potentate, condescends himself to pronounce this royal proclamation, The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin! Forgiving indeed, but in consonance with his just demand of repentance and reformation, who will by no means clear the guilty.' The ardent and affectionate Apostle of the Gentiles, within a very few verses, has also represented the Almighty under every character that is endearing and consoling. He denominates him the God of patience and of comfort,' the God of hope and of peace;' titles which are peculiarly addressed to all the exigencies of man, and graciously expressive of God's will and power to supply them. There is an appropriation of the terms to the state of the fallen children of mortality, calculated to take away all fear, and to fill the vacant room with love, and peace, and gratitude unspeakable. and sinful creature like yourself whom you had offended. Why is God the only being who is not believed?, who is not trusted? Othon that hearest prayer, why unto Thee will not all flesh come? Perhaps you are a doubting, weak, and trem. Refuse not then to take comfort from the probling penitent; not indeed doubting of the mer. mises of God, when perhaps you are easily sacies of God, but of your own interest in them.tisfied with the assurance of pardon from a frail This feeling may arise from a deep and humbling sense of your own sins and infirmities, rather than from any criminal unbelief. Here comes in to your relief a whole host of gracious promises, peculiarly adapted to your case. The tender images of the smoking flax,' and the bruised reed,' the promised acceptance of the contrite spirit, and the broken heart.' But be yond all praise is the consoling assurance of our great High Priest, that he is touched with the feeling of our infirmities.' Touched with them, not only when he was 'a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,' but now when he is even 'ascended to the glory which he had with his Father before the world began.' But though God's pardoning grace knows no bounds, his sanctifying grace is given by mea sure, is given as we use what we have already received. God seems to reserve in his own hands a provision for our humility, and thus keeps prayer in full exercise. The one is progressive in its operation, the other is full and free, bestowed, not for any righteousness in the receiver, but for that full and perfect oblation once made for sin. Is it not a most fallacious How soothing is this expression of the Divine trust to expect that our sins will be blotted out compassion! It is not barely the hearing or without that habitual repentance annexed to the the seeing, it is the feeling of our infirmities. promise? It is vain to offer the bribe of burnt He was in all points tempted like as we are offerings, the thousands of rams, or the rivers This is the most exquisite touch of sympathy; of oil. God desires not to be paid for our par he not only suffered but was tempted; here in-don, nor profited by our offerings. He never deed the resemblance has its limitation: for he sells his favours. The riches of the universe, was without sin. He knew the condition of which are indeed already his, could not procure being tempted,' but not that of yielding to it. the pardon of a single sinner, but he prescribes It is this feeling of being tempted, which gives the duty, when he promises the pardon. Rehim such an intimate concern in the feeble fear- pent, that your sins may be blotted out.' ful Christian. He sends the angel of his pre- It would therefore supply ample matter for sence, and saves them. What a striking con- habitual prayer, had we only the sins of our nafirmation of the blessed truth, that in all our ture to lament; but when to these we add our afflictions he is afflicted, is the awful interroga-practical offences, oh, how great is the sum of tion, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou,'-not my church, but me?" It is a further encouragement to the dejected spirit, that the Almighty was not contented to show his willingness to pardon by single declarations, however strong and full. He has heaped up words, he has crowded images, he has accu- I them! Yet though they are more than we can express, they are not greater than God can forgive; not more than the blood which was shed for them can wash out. But he to whom the duty of prayer is unknown, and by whom the privilege of prayer is unfelt, or he by whom it is neglected, or he who uses it for form and not from feeling, may pro. against the assaults of temptation, and the albably say, Will this work, wearisome even if lurements of pleasure, none that can so sustain necessary, never know an end? Will there be him under labour, so carry him through diffino period when God will dispense with its regu-culties; none that can so quicken him in the lar exercise? Will there never be such an at-practice of every virtue, and animate him in the tainment of the end proposed, as that we may discharge of every duty. be allowed to discontinue the means? To these interrogatories there is but one answer, an answer which shall be also made, by an appeal to the enquirer himself. If there is any day in which we are quite certain that we shall meet with no trial from Providence, no temptation from the world, any day in which we shall be sure to have no wrong tempers excited in ourselves, no call to bear with those of others, no misfortune to encounter, and no need of Divine assistance to endure it, on that morning we may safely omit our prayer. If there is any evening in which we have received no protection from God, and experienced no mercy at his hands; if we have not lost a single opportunity of doing or receiving good, if we are quite certain that we have not once spoken unadvisedly with our lips, nor entertain. ed one vain or idle thought in our heart, on that night we may safely omit praise to God, and the confession of our own sinfulness, on that night we may safely omit humiliation and thanksgiving. To repeat the converse would be superfluous. When we can conscientiously say, that religion has given a tone to our conduct, a law to our actions, a rule to our thoughts, a bridle to our tongue, a restraint to every wrong passion, a check to every evil temper, then, some will say, we may safely be dismissed from the drudgery of prayer, it will then have answered all the end which you so tiresomely recommend. So far from it, we really figure to ourselves, that if we could hope to hear of a being brought to such perfection of discipline, it would unquestionably be found that this would be the very being who would continue most perseveringly in the prac. tice of that devotion, which had so materially contributed to bring his heart and mind into so desirable a state, who would most tremble to discontinue prayer, who would be most appalled at the thought of the condition into which such discontinuance would be likely to reduce him. Whatever others do, he will continue forever to 'sing praises unto Thee, O Thou most Highest; he will continue to tell of Thy loving kindness early in the morning, and of Thy truth in the night season.' It is true that while he considered religion as something nominal and ceremonial, rather than as a principle of spirit and of life, he felt nothing encouraging, nothing refreshing, nothing delightful in prayer. But since he began to feel it as the means of procuring the most substantial blessings to his heart; since he began to experience something of the realization of the promises to his soul, in the performance of this exercise, he finds there is no employment so sa. tisfactory, none that his mind can so little do without; none that so effectually raises him above the world, none that so opens his eyes to its empty shadows, none which can make him look with so much indifference on its lying vanities; none that can so powerfully defend him But if prayer be so exhilirating to the soul, what shall be said of praise? Praise is the only employment, we had almost saiu, it is the only duty, in which self finds no part. In praise we go out of ourselves, and think only of Him to whom we offer it. It is the most purely disin terested of all services. It is gratitude without solicitation, acknowledgment without petition. Prayer is the overflowing expression of our wants, praise of our affections. Prayer is the language of the destitute, praise of the redeemed, sinner. If the angelic spirits offer their praises exempt from our mixture of infirmity or alloy, yet we have a motive for gratitude, unknown even to the angels. They are unfallen beings; they cannot say as we can, Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us.'-Prayer is prospective. Praise takes in, in its wide range, enjoyment of present, remembrance of past, and anticipation of future blessings. Prayer points the only way to heaven, ' praise is already there.' · On Intercessory Prayer. THE Social affections were given us not only for the kindliest, but the noblest purposes. The charities of father, son, and brother, were be stowed, not only to make life pleasant, but to make it useful; not only that we might contri bute to the present comfort, but to the eternal benefit of each other. These heaven-implanted affections are never brought into exercise more properly, nor with more lively feelings, than in intercessory prayer. Our friends may have wants which we cannot remove, desires which we cannot gratify, afflic tions which we cannot relieve, but is always in our power to bring them before God; to pray for them whenever we pray for ourselves. This, as it is a most pleasant and easy, so it is an indispensable obligation. It is a duty which brings the social affections into their highest exercise, and which may be reciprocally paid and received. The same Scriptures which expressly enjoin that supplication, prayers, intercession, and giv ing of thanks be made for all men, furnish also numerous examples of the efficacy of intercessory prayer. We need not dwell on the instance of the rain obtained by the prayers of Elijah, or the earlier availing intercessions of Moses, with other public deliverances effected in the same manner. Though the perseverance of Abraham's prayer did not prevent the extermination of the polluted city, yet doubtless the blossing he solicited for it returned unto his own bosom, and the suc cessive promises made by the Almighty Judge to the successively reduced number of the righte ous, for whose sake the petition for preservation was offered, afford a proof of the Divine appro bation and a striking encouragement to persist in the duty of intercessory prayer. The promise of God was not withdrawn. The prayer was conditional, and could the petitioner have made up his very lowest compliment, the city had been saved. The interceding heart in any event is sure to gain something for itself. Prayer is such an enlarger of the affections, such an opener of the heart, that we cannot but wonder how any who live in the practice of it, should be penurious in their alms; or, if they do give, should do it grudgingly or of necessity. Surely if our prayer be cordial, we shall be more ready to assist as well as to love those for whom we are in the habit of making sup. plication to God. It is impossible to pray sincerely for the well-being of others, without being desirous of contributing to it. We can hardly conceive a more complete species of self-deception than that practised by an avaricious professor of religion, one who goes on mechanically to pray for the poor, whilst his prayer has neither opened his heart nor his purse. He may value himself on this, as on other instances of his ingenuity, in having found out so cheap a way of doing good, and go on contentedly, till he hear those tremendous words of exclusion, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me.' There is a generosity in religion. The same principle which disposes a Christian to contribute to the temporal interests of those he loves, inclines him to breathe his earnest supplication for their spiritual benefit. Not only does prayers for others promote natural affection, not only does it soften the heart of him who intercedes, but it is hoped that they for whom the intercession is made, may reap the benefit. But our intercessions must neither dwell in generalities for the public nor in limitations to the wants of our particular friends. The Christian is the friend of every descrip. tion of the children of mortality. In the fulness of our compassion for the miseries of mankind, we pour out our hearts in prayer for the poor and destitute, and we do well. But there is another and a large class who are still more ob. jects of our pity, and consequently should be of our prayer. We pray for those who have no portion in this world, but do we not sometimes forget to pray for those who have their whole portion in it? We pray for the praying servants of God, but perhaps we neglect to pray for those who never pray for themselves. These are the persons who stand most in need of the mercy of the Almighty, and of our Christian importunity in their favour. Is it not affecting, that even into our devotions we are disposed to carry the regard we too highly indulge of the good things of this life, by earnestly imploring mercy upon those who want them; and by forgetting to offer our sup. plications in favour of those who are blinded by the too full enjoyment of them. If the one duty be done, should the other be left undone? Happily we live in an age presenting many instances, where neither high station, nor great riches impede piety, or obstruct devotion. Yet, it is to be feared, that the general tendency of rank, and especially of riches, is to withdraw the heart from spiritual exercises, more than the hand from pecuniary bounty. Let us then fervently include among the objects of our supplication that very pitiable and very necessitous class among the rich and great, if such a class there be, who live without any sensible feeling of the presence of God as acknowledged in prayer:-for those persons who never entertain a doubt of their own deserts, even if they do not deny Him who is the giver of the boundless blessings which lead them to forget Him.-Strange! that the very overflow. ing cup which ought to ensure gratitude should induce forgetfulness! strange! that prayer to God should be neglected in proportion to the magnitude of His bounties. May the writer be permitted to enrich the penury of her own meagre composition with a beautiful extract from one whose unequalled rhetoric was always warmed by a deep sensibility, and occasionally tinctured with religious feeling the eloquent and almost prophetic author of Reflections on the Revolution in France: The English people are satisfied, that to the great, the consolations of religion are as necessary as its instructions. They too are among the unhappy. They feel personal pain and domestic sorrow. In these they have no privilege, but are subject to pay their full contingent to the contributions levied on mortality. They want this sovereign balm under their gnawing cares and anxieties, which being less conversant about the limited wants of animal life, range without limit, and are diversified by infinite combinations in the wild and unbounded regions of imagination. Some charitable dole is wanting to these our often very unhappy brethren, to fill the gloomy void that reigns in minds which have nothing on earth to hope or fear; something to relieve in the killing langour and overlaboured lassitude of those who have nothing to do; something to excite an appetite to existence in the palled satiety which attends on all pleasures which may be bought, where nature is not left to her own process, where even desire is anticipated, and therefore, fruition defeated by meditated schemes and contrivances of delight; and no interval, no obstacle, is interposed between the wish and the accomplishment.' O you great ones of the carth, whom riches ensnare and prosperity betrays-be largely liberal, even from self-insterest. Not, indeed, expecting to make the liberality you bestow a remuneration for the devotions you withhold. Scatter your superfiuities, and more than your superfluities, to the destitute, if not to vindicate Providence, yet to benefit yourselves. Not, indeed, to revive the old pious fraud of depending for salvation on the prayers of others; yet still you may hope to be repaid, with usurious interest, from the pious poor, by the very tender charity of their prayers for you. Their supplications may possibly be so heard, that you may at length, be brought to the indispensable necessity, and the bounden duty of praying for yourselves. As to the commanding duty of praying for our enemies, the most powerful example bequeathed to us in Scripture, next to that of his Divine master on the cross, is that of St. Stephen. Even after the expiring martyr had ejaculated 'Lord Jesus receive my spirit,' he kneeled down and cried with a loud voice Lord lay not this sin to their charge.' Let every instance of Roman greatness of mind, let every story of Grecian magnanimity be ransacked, and produce, who can, such another example. Theirs is tumour, this is grandeur; their is heroism, this is Christianity; they died for their country, Jesus for his enemies; they implored the gods for themselves, Stephen for his murderers. dispositions which it is the object of prayer to communicate, should be kept alive in society, and brought into action in its affairs. That the integrity, the veracity, the justice, the purity, the liberality, the watchfulness over ourselves, the candour towards others, all exercised in the fear of the Lord, and strengthened by the word of God and prayer, should be brought from the retirement of devotion to the regulation of the conduct. Though we have observed above, that it is rather the spirit than the language of religion that should be carried into business, yet we can. not forbear regretting, that we seem to decline The praying Christian in the World.-The Pro- much from the sober usages of our ancestors. mise of Rest to the Christian. As the keeping up a due sense of religion, both in faith and practice, so materially depends on the habit of fervent and heart-felt devotion, may we be permitted, in this place, to insist on the probable effects which would follow the devout and conscientious exercise of prayer, rather than on prayer itself? As soon as religion is really become the earnest desire of our hearts, it will inevitably become the great business of our lives; the one is the only satisfactory evidence of the other: consequently the religion of the heart and life will promote that prayer by which both have been promoted. Formerly testamentary instruments were never made the mere conveyance of worldly possessions. They were also made the vehicles of pious sentiments, and always at least opened with a devout offering of the soul to Him who gave it. Indeed it is difficult to imagine how a man can write the words my last will without a solemn reflection on that last act which must inevitably follow it, and in view of which act he is making it. May not this alteration in the practice be partly ascribed to the decline of habitual prayer.* But what fair opportunities have certain of the great officers of the law, especially in their charges, of giving to them a solemnity the most impressive, by adverting more frequently They, therefore, little advance the true inter- to the awful truths of Christianity! Even if est of mankind, who, under the powerful plea such awakening appeals to the conscience should of what great things God has done for us in our fail of their effects on the unhappy convicts to redemption by His Son, neglect to encourage whom they are addressed, they may be of inour active services in His cause. Hear the calculable benefit to some of the numerous perwords of inspiration, Be not slothful;' run the sons present. A counsel, a caution, a reproof, race; fight the good fight; strive to enter and exhortation, all on pure Christian princiin;' give diligence;' work out your own sal-ples, and thus coming from a profession to vation;'God is not unmindful to forget your labour of love; but when ye have done all, say, Ye are unprofitable servants, ye have done that which was your duty to do.' 6 which it appears not immediately to belong, may especially from not being expected, produce consequences the most salutary. The terribly affecting circumstances of the moment, the appalling scene so soon to follow, must give an unspeakable weight to the most touching admonition. He who is judging the condemned violator of divine and human laws, stands as a kind of representative of the future Judge of quick and dead and will himself soon be judged by * I beg leave to strengthen my own sentiments on this head, by quoting a passage from an eminent and of one of the greatest men of our age. truly pious barrister, with an extract from the last will But if, after we have done all, we are unprofitable servants, what shall we be if we have done nothing? Is it not obvious that the Holy Spirit, who dictated these exhortations, clearly meant that a sound faith in the word of God was meant to produce holy exertion in his cause? The activity in doing good of the Son of God was not exceeded by his devotion, and both gloriously illustrated his doctrines, and confirmed his divinity. Until we make then our religion a part of our common life, until we bring Christianity, as an illustrious genius is said to have brought philosophy, from its retreat to live in the world, and dwell among men; until we have brought it from the closet to the active scene, from the church to the world,mendous consequences of the separation of soul and body whether that world be the court, the senate, the exchange, the public office, the private counting-house, the courts of justice, the professional departments, or the domestic drawing-room, it will not have fully accomplished what it was sent on earth to do. Of late years, it has been the fashion (for there is a fashion even in the last act of a man's life) to omit these solemn preambles. I confess myself an approver of them, as believing it to be useful to the surviving relatives of the testator to draw their attention to the tre at seasons of impressibility and reflection.' By the fol. lowing extract, from the will of the late Mr. Burke, it will be seen, that his sentiments, on this point, coincided with those above expressed. First according to the ancient good and laudable custom, of which my heart and understanding recognise the propriety, I bequeath my soul to God, hoping for His mercy through the only merits of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. My body We do not mean the introduction of its lan-I desire, if I should die at any place very convenient for guage, but of its spirit: the former is frequently as incompatible with public, as it is unsuitable to private business; but the latter is of universal application. We mean that the temper and its transport thither. (but not otherwise.) to be buried at the church of Baconsfield, near to the bodies of my dearest brother and my dearest son, in all humility praying, that, as we have lived in perfect unity together, we may together have part in the resurrection of the just,'—Roberts on Wills, vol. ii. p. 376. Him, a consideration which makes his respon- | into bigotry; that his moderation do not freeze, sibility peculiarly tremendous. * But to return,-Though we must not, in accommodation to the prevailing prejudices and unnecessary zeal against abstinence and devotion, neglect the imperative duties of retirement, prayer, and meditation; yet, perhaps, as prayer makes so indispensable an article in the Christian life, some retired contemplative persons may apprehend that it makes the whole; where. as prayer is only the operation which sets the machine going. It is the sharpest spur to virtuous action, but not the act itself. The only infallible incentive to a useful life, but not a substitute for that usefulness. Religion keeps her children in full employment. It finds them work for every day in the week, as well as on Sundays. The praying Christian, on going into the world, feels that his social and religious duties are happily comprised in one brief sentence'I will think upon the commandments to Do them.' What the Holy Spirit has so indissolubly joined, he does not separate. He whose heart has been set in motion in the morning by prayer, who has had his spiritual pulse quickened by a serious perusal of the Holy Scriptures, will find his work growing up. on him in regular proportion to his willingness to do it. He is diligently exact in the immediate duties of the passing day. Though procrastination is treated by many as a light evil, he studiously avoids it, because he has felt its mischiefs; he is active even from the love of ease, for he knows that the duties which would have cost him little, if done on the day they were due, may, by the accumulation of many neglected days, cost him much. The fear of this rouses him to immediate exertion. If the case in question be doubtful, he deliberates, he inquires, he prays; if it be clear and pressing, what his hand finds to do, he does with all his might, and in the calls of distress he always acts on his favourite aphorism, that giving soon is giving twice. Abroad how many duties meet him! He has on his hands the poor that want bread, the afflicted who want comfort, the distressed who want counsel, the ignorant who want teaching, the depressed who want soothing. At home he has his family to watch over. He has to give instruction to his children, and an example to his servants. But his more immediate, as well as more difficult work is with himself, and he knows that this exercise, well performed, can alone enable him wisely to perform the rest. Here he finds work for every faculty of his un. derstanding, every conquest over his will, for every affection of his heart. Here his spirit truly labours. He has to watch, as well as to pray, that his conscience be not darkened by prejudice; that his bad qualities do not assume the shape of virtues, nor his good ones engender self-applause; that his best intentions do not mislead his judgment; that his candour do not degenerate into indifference; nor his strictness *The late Lord Kenyon was neither afraid nor asha med to introduce both the doctrine and language of Christianity on these occasions; and we have lately seen other valuable instances of the adoption of this practice. I nor his zeal burn. He has to controul his impatience at the defeat of his most wisely conceived plans. He will find that in his best services there is something that is wrong, much that is wanting; and he feels, that whatever in them is right, is not his own, but the gift of God. He finds that his obedience is incomplete, that his warmest affections are languid, perhaps his best intentions not realized, his best resolves not followed up. In this view, though he is abased in dust and ashes in looking up to God as the fountain of perfection, he is cheered in looking up to him also as the fountain of mercy in Christ Jesus. He prays, as well as strives, that the knowledge of his own faults may make him more humble, and his sense of the divine mercies more grateful. He will find that his faith, even though it does not want sincerity, will too frequently want energy. He has, therefore, to watch against cold and heartless prayer; though, perhaps, the humility arising from this consciousness is a benefit in another way. He feels it difficult to bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ,' yet he goes on cheerily, willing to believe that what may be difficult is not impossible. He has to struggle against over anxiety for temporal things. He has to preserve simplicity of intention, consistency, and perseverance. He has, in short, to watch against a long list of sins, errors, and temptations, which he will find heavier in weight, and more in number, the more closely he looks into his catalogue. The praying Christian in the world has, above all, to watch against the fear of men, as he may find it more easy to endure the cross than to despise the shame. Even if he have in a good degree conquered his temptation, he may still find a more dangerous enemy in the applause of the world than he found in its enmity. He has observed, that many amiable and even pious persons who are got above the more vulgar allurements of the world, who have surmounted all the temptations of a more sensual kind, who are no longer subdued by its softening luxuries, its seducing pleasures, its dazzling splendours, nor its captivating amusements, have not yet quite escaped this danger. The keen desire of its good opinion, the anxiety for its applause, ensnares many who are got above any thing else which the world has to offer. This is, perhaps, the last lingering sin which cleaves even to those who have made a considerable progress in religion, the still unextinguished passion of a mind great enough to have subdued many other passions. The danger of the Christian in the world is from the world. He is afraid of the sleek, smooth, insinuating, and not discreditable vices; he guards against self-complacency. If his affairs prosper, and his reputation stands high, he be. takes himself to his only sure refuge, humble prayer. He knows it is more easy to perform a hundred right deeds, and to keep many virtues in exercise, than to keep himself unspotted from the world,' than to hold the things of the world with a loose hand. Even his best ac |