PRACTICAL RELIGION.

BEING PLAIN PAPERS

ON THE DAILY DUTIES, EXPERIENCE, DANGERS, AND
PRIVILEGES OF PROFESSING CHRISTIANS.

BY

JOHN CHARLES RYLE, D.D.,

LORD BISHOP OF LIVERPOOL;

Author of “Expository Thoughts on the Gospels,” etc.

Fourth Edition.

LONDON:
WILLIAM HUNT AND COMPANY,
12, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1887 .

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 IV.

PRAYER.
“Men ought always to pray.”—LUKE xviii. 1.
“ I will that men pray everywhere.”—1 TIM. ii. 8.

PRAYER is the most important subject in practical religion. All other subjects are
second to it. Reading the Bible, keeping the Sabbath, hearing sermons, attending
public worship, going to the Lord’s Table,—all these are very weighty matters.
But none of them are so important as private prayer.
I propose in this paper to offer seven plain reasons why I use such strong lan-
guage about prayer. I invite to these reasons the attention of every thinking man
into whose hands this paper may fall. I venture to assert with confidence that they
deserve serious consideration.

I. In the first place, Prayer is absolutely needful to a man’s salvation.

I say absolutely needful, and I say so advisedly. I am not speaking now of in-
fants and idiots. I am not settling the state of the heathen. I remember that where
little is given, there little will be required. I speak especially of those who call
themselves Christians, in a land like our own. And of such I say no man or
woman can expect to be saved who does not pray.
I hold salvation by grace as strongly as any one. I would gladly offer a free and
full pardon to the greatest sinner that ever lived. I would not hesitate to stand by
his dying bed, and say, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ even now, and you shall
be saved.” But that a man can have salvation without asking for it, I cannot see in
the Bible. That a man will receive pardon of his sins, who will not so much as lift
up his heart inwardly, and say, “Lord Jesus, give it to me,” this I cannot find. I can
find that nobody will be saved by his prayers, but I cannot find that without prayer
anybody will be saved.
It is not absolutely needful to salvation that a man should read the Bible. A
man may have no learning, or be blind, and yet have Christ in his heart. It is not
absolutely needful that a man should hear the public preaching of the Gospel. He
may live where the Gospel is not preached, or he may be bedridden, or deaf. But
the same thing cannot be said about prayer. It is absolutely needful to salvation
that a man should pray.
There is no royal road either to health or learning. Princes and kings, poor men
and peasants, all alike must attend to the wants of their own bodies and their own
minds. No man can eat, drink, or sleep by proxy. No man can get the alphabet
learned for him by another. All these are things which everybody must do for
himself, or they will not be done at all.
Just as it is with the mind and body, so it is with the soul. There are certain
things absolutely needful to the soul’s health and well-being. Each one must at-
tend to these things for himself. Each must repent for himself. Each must apply to
Christ for himself. And for himself each one must speak to God and pray. You
must do it for yourself, for by nobody else can it be done.

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 How can we expect to be saved by an “unknown” God? And how can we know
God without prayer? We know nothing of men and women in this world, unless
we speak with them. We cannot know God in Christ, unless we speak to Him in
prayer. If we wish to be with Him in heaven, we must be His friends on earth. If
we wish to be His friends on earth, we must pray.
There will be many at Christ’s right hand in the last day. The saints gathered
from North and South, and East and West, will be “a multitude that no man can
number.” (Rev. vii. 9.) The song of victory that will burst from their mouths,
when their redemption is at length complete, will be a glorious song indeed. It
will be far above the noise of many waters, and of mighty thunders. But there will
he no discord in that song. They that sing will sing with one heart as well as one
voice. Their experience will be one and the same. All will have believed. All will
have been washed in the blood of Christ. All will have been born again. All will
have prayed. Yes, we must pray on earth, or we shall never praise in heaven. We
must go through the school of prayer, or we shall never be fit for the holiday of
praise. In short, to be prayerless is to be without God,—without Christ,—without
grace,—without hope,—and without heaven. It is to be in the road to hell.

II. In the second place, a habit of prayer is one of the surest marks of a true
Christian.
All the children of God on earth are alike in this respect. From the moment
there is any life and reality about their religion, they pray. Just as the first sign of
life in an infant when born into the world, is the act of breathing, so the first act of
men and women when they are born again, is praying.
This is one of the common marks of all the elect of God: “They cry unto Him
day and night.” (Luke xviii. 1.) The Holy Spirit, who makes them new creatures,
works in them the feeling of adoption, and makes them cry, “Abba, Father.”
(Rom. viii. 15.) The Lord Jesus, when He quickens them, gives them a voice and
a tongue, and says to them, “Be dumb no more.” God has no dumb children. It is
as much a part of their new nature to pray, as it is of a child to cry. They see their
need of mercy and grace. They feel their emptiness and weakness. They cannot do
otherwise than they do. They must pray.
I have looked carefully over the lives of God’s saints in the Bible. I cannot find
one of whose history much is told us, from Genesis to Revelation, who was not a
man of prayer. I find it mentioned as a characteristic of the godly, that “they call
on the Father,” that “they call on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.” I find it re-
corded as a characteristic of the wicked, that “they call not upon the Lord.” (1 Pe-
ter i. 17; 1 Cor. i. 2; Psalm xiv. 4.)
I have read the lives of many eminent Christians who have been on earth since
the Bible days. Some of them, I see, were rich, and some poor. Some were
learned, and some unlearned. Some of them were Episcopalians, some Presbyteri-
ans, some Baptists, some Independents. Some were Calvinists, and some Armini-
ans. Some have loved to use a liturgy, and some to use none. But one thing, I see,
they all had in common. They have all been men of prayer.
I study the reports of Missionary Societies in our own times. I see with joy that
heathen men and women are receiving the Gospel in various parts of the globe.

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There are conversions in Africa, in New Zealand, in Hindustan, in America. The
people converted are naturally unlike one another in every respect. But one strik-
ing thing I observe at all the Missionary stations. The converted people always
pray.
I do not deny that a man may pray without heart, and without sincerity. I do not
for a moment pretend to say that the mere fact of a person praying proves every-
thing about his soul. As in every other part of religion, so also in this, there is
plenty of deception and hypocrisy.
But this I do say,—that not praying is a clear proof that a man is not yet a true
Christian. He cannot really feel his sins. He cannot love God. He cannot feel him-
self a debtor to Christ. He cannot long after holiness. He cannot desire heaven. He
has yet to be born again. He has yet to be made a new creature. He may boast con-
fidently of election, grace, faith, hope, and knowledge, and deceive ignorant peo-
ple. But you may rest assured it is all vain talk if he does not pray.
And I say furthermore, that of all the evidences of real work of the Spirit, a
habit of hearty private prayer is one of the most satisfactory that can be named. A
man may preach from false motives. A man may write books, and make fine
speeches, and seem diligent in good works, and yet be a Judas Iscariot. But a man
seldom goes into his closet, and pours out his soul before God in secret, unless he
is in earnest. The Lord Himself has set His stamp on prayer as the best proof of a
true conversion. When He sent Ananias to Saul in Damascus, He gave him no
other evidence of his change of heart than this;—“Behold, he prayeth.” (Acts ix.
11.)
I know that much may go on in a man’s mind before he is brought to pray. He
may have many convictions, desires, wishes, feelings, intentions, resolutions,
hopes, and fears. But all these things are very uncertain evidences. They are to be
found in ungodly people, and often come to nothing. In many a case they are not
more lasting than “the morning cloud, and the dew that goeth away.” (Hos. vi. 4.)
A real hearty prayer, flowing from a broken and contrite spirit, is worth all these
things put together.
I know that the elect of God are chosen to salvation from all eternity. I do not
forget that the Holy Spirit, who calls them in due time, in many instances leads
them by very slow degrees to acquaintance with Christ. But the eye of man can
only judge by what it sees. I cannot call any one justified until he believes. I dare
not say that any one believes until he prays. I cannot understand a dumb faith. The
first act of faith will be to speak to God. Faith is to the soul what life is to the
body. Prayer is to faith what breath is to life. How a man can live and not breathe
is past my comprehension, and how a man can believe and not pray is past my
comprehension too.
Let no one be surprised if he hears ministers of the Gospel dwelling much on
the importance of prayer. This is the point we want to bring you to,—we want to
know that you pray. Your views of doctrine may be correct. Your love of Protes-
tantism may be warm and unmistakeable. But still this may be nothing more than
head knowledge and party spirit. The great point is this,—whether you can speak
to God as well as speak about God.

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 III. In the third place, there is no duty in religion so neglected as private
prayer.
We live in days of abounding religious profession. There are more places of
public worship now than there ever were before. There are more persons attend-
ing them than there ever have been since England was a nation. And yet in spite
of all this public religion, I believe there is a vast neglect of private prayer.
I should not have said so a few years ago. I once thought, in my ignorance, that
most people said their prayers, and many people prayed. I have lived to think dif-
ferently. I have come to the conclusion that the great majority of professing Chris-
tians do not pray at all.
I know this sounds very shocking, and will startle many. But I am satisfied that
prayer is just one of those things which is thought a “matter of course,” and, like
many matters of course, is shamefully neglected. It is “everybody’s business;”
and, as it often happens in such cases, it is a business carried on by very few. It is
one of those private transactions between God and our souls which no eye sees,
and therefore one which there is every temptation to pass over and leave undone.
I believe that thousands never say a word of prayer at all. They eat; they drink;
they sleep; they rise; they go forth to their labour; they return to their homes; they
breathe God’s air: they see God’s sun; they walk on God’s earth; they enjoy
God’s mercies; they have dying bodies; they have judgment and eternity before
them. But they never speak to God! They live like the beasts that perish; they be-
have like creatures without souls; they have not a word to say to Him in whose
hand are their life, and breath, and all things, and from whose mouth they must
one day receive their everlasting sentence. How dreadful this seems! But if the
secrets of men were only known, how common!
I believe there are tens of thousands whose prayers are nothing but a mere
form,—a set of words repeated by rote, without a thought about their meaning.
Some say over a few hasty sentences picked up in the nursery when they were
children. Some content themselves with repeating the Belief, forgetting that there
is not a request in it. Some add the Lord’s Prayer, but without the slightest desire
that its solemn petitions may be granted. Some among the poor, even at this day,
repeat the old popish lines:—

“Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,

Bless the bed that I lie on.”

Many, even of those who use good forms, mutter their prayers over after they
have got into bed, or scramble over them while they wash or dress in the morning.
Men may think what they please, but they may depend that in the sight of God
this is not praying. Words said without heart are as utterly useless to our souls as
the drum-beating of the poor heathen before their idols. Where there is no heart,
there may be lip-work and tongue-work, but there is nothing that God listens to,
there is no prayer. Saul, I have no doubt, said many a long prayer before the Lord
met him on the way to Damascus. But it was not till his heart was broken that the
Lord said, “He prayeth.”
Does this surprise any reader? Listen to me and I will show you that I am not
speaking as I do without reason. Do you think that my assertions are extravagant

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and unwarrantable? Give me your attention, and I will soon show you that I am
only telling you the truth.
Have you forgotten that it is not natural to any one to pray? The carnal mind is
enmity against God. The desire of man’s heart is to get far away from God, and to
have nothing to do with Him. His feeling toward Him is not love but fear. Why
then should a man pray when he has no real sense of sin, no real feeling of spiri-
tual wants,—no thorough belief in unseen things,—no desire after holiness and
heaven? Of all these things the vast majority of men know and feel nothing. The
multitude walk in the broad way. I cannot forget this. Therefore I say boldly, I
believe that few pray.
Have you forgotten that it is not fashionable to pray? It is just one of the things
that many would be rather ashamed to own. There are hundreds who would
sooner storm a breach, or lead a forlorn hope, than confess publicly that they
make a habit of prayer. There are thousands who, if obliged by chance to sleep in
the same room with a stranger, would lie down in bed without a prayer. To ride
well, to shoot well, to dress well, to go to balls, and concerts, and theatres, to be
thought clever and agreeable, all this is fashionable, but not to pray. I cannot for-
get this. I cannot think a habit is common which so many seem ashamed to own. I
believe that few pray.
Have you forgotten the lives that many live? Can we really suppose that people
are praying against sin night and day, when we see them plunging right into it?
Can we suppose they pray against the world, when they are entirely absorbed and
taken up with its pursuits? Can we think they really ask God for grace to serve
Him, when they do not show the slightest desire to serve Him at all? Oh, no! It is
plain as daylight that the great majority of men either ask nothing of God, or do
not mean what they say when they do ask,—which is just the same thing. Praying
and sinning will never live together in the same heart. Prayer will consume sin, or
sin choke prayer. I cannot forget this. I look at men’s lives. I believe that few
pray.
Have you forgotten the deaths that many die? How many, when they draw near
death, seem entirely strangers to God. Not only are they sadly ignorant of His
Gospel, but sadly wanting in the power of speaking to Him. There is a terrible
awkwardness, and shyness, and newness, and rawness, in their endeavours to ap-
proach Him. They seem to be taking up a fresh thing. They appear as if they
wanted an introduction to God, and as if they had never talked with Him before. I
remember having heard of a lady who was anxious to have a minister to visit her
in her last illness. She desired that he would pray with her. He asked her what he
should pray for. She did not know and could not tell. She was utterly unable to
name any one thing which she wished him to ask God for her soul. All she
seemed to want was the form of a minister’s prayers. I can quite understand this.
Death-beds are great revealers of secrets. I cannot forget what I have seen of sick
and dying people. This also leads me to believe that few pray.

IV. In the fourth place, prayer is that act in religion to which there is the great-
est encouragement.
There is everything on God’s part to make prayer easy, if men will only attempt

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it. “All things are ready” on His side. (Luke xiv. 17.) Every objection is antici-
pated. Every difficulty is provided for. The crooked places are made straight, and
the rough places are made smooth. There is no excuse left for the prayerless man.
There is a way by which any man, however sinful and unworthy, may draw
near to God the Father. Jesus Christ has opened that way by the sacrifice He made
for us upon the cross. The holiness and justice of God need not frighten sinners
and keep them back. Only let them cry to God in the name of Jesus,—only let
them plead the atoning blood of Jesus,—and they shall find God upon a throne of
grace, willing and ready to hear. The name of Jesus is a never-failing passport to
our prayers. In that name a man may draw near to God with boldness, and ask
with confidence. God has engaged to hear him. Think of this. Is not this encour-
agement?
There is an advocate and intercessor always waiting to present the prayers of
those who will employ Him. That advocate is Jesus Christ. He mingles our
prayers with the incense of His own almighty intercession. So mingled they go up
as a sweet savour before the throne of God. Poor as they are in themselves, they
are mighty and powerful in the hand of our High Priest and elder brother. The
bank-note without a signature at the bottom is nothing but a worthless piece of
paper. A few strokes of a pen confer on it all its value. The prayer of a poor child
of Adam is a feeble thing in itself, but once endorsed by the hand of the Lord Je-
sus it availeth much. There was an officer in the city of Rome who was appointed
to have his doors always open, in order to receive any Roman citizen who applied
to him for help. Just so the ear of the Lord Jesus is ever open to the cry of all who
want mercy and grace. It is His office to help them. Their prayer is His delight.
Think of this. Is not this encouragement?
There is the Holy Spirit ever ready to help our infirmities in prayer. It is one
part of His special office to assist us in our endeavours to speak to God. We need
not be cast down and distressed by the fear of not knowing what to say. The Spirit
will give us words if we will only seek His aid. He will supply us with “thoughts
that breathe and words that burn.” The prayers of the Lord’s people are the inspi-
ration of the Lord’s Spirit,—the work of the Holy Ghost who dwells within them
as the Spirit of grace and supplications. Surely the Lord’s people may well hope
to be heard. It is not they that merely pray, but the Holy Ghost pleading in them.
(Rom. viii. 26.) Think of this. Is not this encouragement?
There are exceeding great and precious promises to those who pray. What did
the Lord Jesus mean when He spoke such words as these, “Ask, and it shall be
given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for
every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that
knocketh it shall be opened.” (Matt. vii. 7, 8.) “All things, whatsoever ye shall ask
in prayer believing, ye shall receive.” (Matt. xxi. 22.) “Whatsoever ye shall ask in
my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall ask
anything in my name, I will do it.” (John xiv. 13, 14.) What did the Lord mean
when He spoke the parables of the friend at midnight and the importunate widow?
(Luke xi. 5, and xviii. 1.) Think over these passages. If this is not encouragement
to pray, words have no meaning at all.
There are wonderful examples in Scripture of the power of prayer. Nothing

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seems to be too great, too hard, or too difficult for prayer to do. It has obtained
things that seemed impossible and out of reach. It has won victories over fire, air,
earth, and water. Prayer opened the Red Sea. Prayer brought water from the rock
and bread from heaven. Prayer made the sun stand still. Prayer brought fire from
the sky on Elijah’s sacrifice. Prayer turned the counsel of Ahithophel into foolish-
ness. Prayer overthrew the army of Sennacherib. Well might Mary, Queen of
Scots, say, “I fear John Knox’s prayers more than an army of ten thousand men.”
Prayer has healed the sick. Prayer has raised the dead. Prayer has procured the
conversion of souls. “The child of many prayers,” said an old Christian to
Augustine’s mother, “shall never perish.” Prayer, pains, and faith can do anything.
Nothing seems impossible when a man has the Spirit of adoption. “Let me alone,”
is the remarkable saying of God to Moses, when Moses was about to intercede for
the children of Israel. (Exod. xxxii. 10.) The Chaldee version has it “Leave off
praying.” So long as Abraham asked mercy for Sodom, the Lord went on giving.
He never ceased to give till Abraham ceased to pray. Think of this. Is not this en-
couragement?
What more can a man want to lead him to take any step in religion than the
things I have just told him about prayer? What more could be done to make the
path to the mercy-seat easy, and to remove all occasions of stumbling from the
sinner’s way? Surely if the devils in hell had such a door set open before them
they would leap for gladness, and make the very pit ring with joy.
But where will the man hide his head at last who neglects such glorious en-
couragements? What can be possibly said for the man who after all dies without
prayer? God forbid that any reader of this paper should be that man.

V. In the fifth place, diligence in prayer is the secret of eminent holiness.

Without controversy there is a vast difference among true Christians. There is
an immense interval between the foremost and the hindermost in the army of God.
They are all fighting the same good fight;—but how much more valiantly some
fight than others! They are all doing the Lord’s work;—but how much more some
do than others! They are all light in the Lord;—but how much more brightly some
shine than others! They are all running the same race;—but how much faster
some get on than others! They all love the same Lord and Saviour;—but how
much more some love Him than others! I ask any true Christian whether this is
not the case. Are not these things so?
There are some of the Lord’s people who seem never able to get on from the
time of their conversion. They are born again, but they remain babies all their
lives. They are learners in Christ’s school, but they never seem to get beyond A B
C, and the lowest form. They have got inside the fold, but there they lie down and
get no further. Year after year you see in them the same old besetting sins. You
hear from them the same old experience. You remark in them the same want of
spiritual appetite,—the same squeamishness about anything but the milk of the
Word, and the same dislike to strong meat,—the same childishness,—the same
feebleness, the same littleness of mind,—the same narrowness of heart,—the
same want of interest in anything beyond their own little circle, which you re-
marked ten years ago. They are pilgrims indeed, but pilgrims like the Gibeonites

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of old;—their bread is always dry and mouldy,—their shoes always old and
clouted, and their garments always rent and torn. (Josh. ix. 4, 5.) I say this with
sorrow and grief. But I ask any real Christian, Is it not true?
There are others of the Lord’s people who seem to be always getting on. They
grow like the grass after rain. They increase like Israel in Egypt. They press on
like Gideon, though sometimes “faint, yet always pursuing.” (Judges viii. 4.) They
are ever adding grace to grace, and faith to faith, and strength to strength. Every
time you meet them their hearts seem larger, and their spiritual stature bigger,
taller, and stronger. Every year they appear to see more, and know more, and be-
lieve more, and feel more in their religion. They not only have good works to
prove the reality of their faith, but they are zealous of them. They not only do
well, but they are unwearied in well-doing. (Titus ii. 14; Gal. vi. 9.) They attempt
great things, and they do great things. When they fail they try again, and when
they fall they are soon up again. And all this time they think themselves poor un-
profitable servants, and fancy they do nothing at all!—These are those who make
religion lovely and beautiful in the eyes of all. They wrest praise even from the
unconverted, and win golden opinions even from the selfish men of the world.
These are those whom it does one good to see, to be with, and to hear. When you
meet them, you could believe that, like Moses, they had just come out from the
presence of God. When you part with them you feel warmed by their company, as
if your soul had been near a fire, I know such people are rare. I only ask, Is it not
so?
Now, how can we account for the difference which I have just described? What
is the reason that some believers are so much brighter and holier than others? I
believe the difference, in nineteen cases out of twenty, arises from different habits
about private prayer. I believe that those who are not eminently holy pray little,
and those who are eminently holy pray much.
I daresay this opinion will startle some readers. I have little doubt that many
look on eminent holiness as a kind of special gift, which none but a few must pre-
tend to aim at. They admire it at a distance, in books: they think it beautiful when
they see an example near themselves. But as to its being a thing within the reach
of any but a very few, such a notion never seems to enter their minds. In short,
they consider it a kind of monopoly granted to a few favoured believers, but cer-
tainly not to all.
Now I believe that this is a most dangerous mistake. I believe that spiritual, as
well as natural, greatness, depends far more on the use of means within every-
body’s reach, than on anything else. Of course I do not say we have a right to ex-
pect a miraculous grant of intellectual gifts. But this I do say, that when a man is
once converted to God, whether he shall be eminently holy or not depends chiefly
on his own diligence in the use of God’s appointed means. And I assert confi-
dently, that the principal means by which most believers have become great in the
Church of Christ is the habit of diligent private prayer.
Look through the lives of the brightest and best of God’s servants, whether in
the Bible or not. See what is written of Moses, and David, and Daniel, and Paul.
Mark what is recorded of Luther and Bradford, the Reformers. Observe what is
related of the private devotions of Whitefield, and Cecil, and Venn, and Bicker-

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steth, and M’Cheyne. Tell me of one of all the goodly fellowship of saints and
martyrs, who has not had this mark most prominently, he was a man of prayer.
Oh, depend upon it, prayer is power!
Prayer obtains fresh and continued outpourings of the Spirit. He alone begins
the work of grace in a man’s heart: He alone can carry it forward and make it
prosper. But the good Spirit loves to be entreated. And those who ask most, will
always have most of His influence.
Prayer is the surest remedy against the devil and besetting sins. That sin will
never stand firm which is heartily prayed against: that devil will never long keep
dominion over us which we beseech the Lord to cast forth. But, then, we must
spread out all our case before our Heavenly Physician, if He is to give us daily
relief: we must drag our indwelling devils to the feet of Christ, and cry to Him to
send them back to the pit.
Do we wish to grow in grace and be very holy Christians? Then let us never
forget the value of prayer.

VI. In the sixth place, neglect of prayer is one great cause of backsliding.
There is such a thing as going back in religion, after making a good profession.
Men may run well for a season, like the Galatians, and then turn aside after false
teachers. Men may profess loudly, while their feelings are warm, as Peter did; and
then, in the hour of trial, deny their Lord. Men may lose their first love, as the
Ephesians did. Men may cool down in their zeal to do good, like Mark, the com-
panion of Paul. Men may follow an apostle for a season, and then, like Demas, go
back to the world.—All these things men may do.
It is a miserable thing to be a backslider. Of all unhappy things that can befall a
man, I suppose it is the worst. A stranded ship, a broken-winged eagle, a garden
overrun with weeds, a harp without strings, a church in ruins,—all these are sad
sights; but a backslider is a sadder sight still. That true grace shall never be extin-
guished, and true union with Christ never be broken off, I feel no doubt. But I do
believe that a man may fall away so far that he shall lose sight of his own grace,
and despair of his own salvation. And if this is not hell, it is certainly the next
thing to it! A wounded conscience, a mind sick of itself, a memory full of self-
reproach, a heart pierced through with the Lord’s arrows, a spirit broken with a
load of inward accusation,—all this is a taste of hell. It is a hell on earth. Truly
that saying of the wise man is solemn and weighty,—“The backslider in heart
shall be filled with his own ways.” (Prov. xiv. 14.)
Now, what is the cause of most backsliding? I believe, as a general rule, one of
the chief causes is neglect of private prayer. Of course the secret history of falls
will not be known till the last day. I can only give my opinion as a minister of
Christ and a student of the heart. That opinion is, I repeat distinctly, that backslid-
ing generally first begins with neglect of private prayer.
Bibles read without prayer, sermons heard without prayer, marriages contracted
without prayer, journeys undertaken without prayer, residences chosen without
prayer, friendships formed without prayer, the daily act of private prayer itself
hurried over or gone through without heart,—these are the kind of downward
steps by which many a Christian descends to a condition of spiritual palsy, or

10
reaches the point where God allows him to have a tremendous fall.
This is the process which forms the lingering Lots, the unstable Samsons, the
wife-idolizing Solomons, the inconsistent Asas, the pliable Jehoshaphats, the
over-careful Marthas, of whom so many are to be found in the Church of Christ.
Often the simple history of such cases is this, —they became careless about pri-
vate prayer.
We may be very sure that men fall in private long before they fall in public.
They are backsliders on their knees long before they backslide openly in the eyes
of the world. Like Peter, they first disregard the Lord’s warning to watch and
pray; and then, like Peter, their strength is gone, and in the hour of temptation
they deny their Lord.
The world takes notice of their fall, and scoffs loudly. But the world knows
nothing of the real reason. The heathen succeeded in making Origen, the old
Christian Father, offer incense to an idol, by threatening him with a punishment
worse than death. They then triumphed greatly at the sight of his cowardice and
apostasy. But the heathen did not know the fact, which Origen himself tells us,
that on that very morning he had left his bedchamber hastily, and without finish-
ing his usual prayers.
If any reader of this paper is a Christian indeed I trust he will never be a back-
slider. But if you do not wish to be a backsliding Christian, remember the hint I
give you,—Mind your prayers.

VII. In the seventh place, prayer is one of the best receipts for happiness and
contentment.
We live in a world where sorrow abounds. This has always been its state since
sin came in. There cannot be sin without sorrow. And till sin is driven out from
the world it is vain for any one to suppose he can escape sorrow.
Some, without doubt, have a larger cup of sorrow to drink than others. But few
are to be found who live long without sorrows or cares of one sort or another. Our
bodies, our property, our families, our children, our relations, our servants, our
friends, our neighbours, our worldly callings,—each and all of these are fountains
of care. Sicknesses, deaths, losses, disappointments, partings, separations, ingrati-
tude, slander,—all these are common things. We cannot get through life without
them. Some day or other they find us out. The greater are our affections, the
deeper are our afflictions; and the more we love, the more we have to weep.
And what is the best receipt for cheerfulness in such a world as this? How shall
we get through this valley of tears with least pain? I know no better receipt than
the habit of taking everything to God in prayer.
This is the plain advice that the Bible gives, both in the Old Testament and the
New. What says the Psalmist? “Call upon Me in the day of trouble: I will deliver
thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.” (Psalm l. 15.) “Cast thy burden upon the Lord,
and He shall sustain thee: He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved.”
(Psalm lv. 22.) What says the Apostle Paul? “Be careful for nothing; but in every-
thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made
known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall
keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” (Phil. iv. 6, 7.) What says the

11
Apostle James? “Is any afflicted among you? let him pray.” (James v. 13.)
This was the practice of all the saints whose history we have recorded in the
Scriptures. This is what Jacob did, when he feared his brother Esau. This is what
Moses did, when the people were ready to stone him in the wilderness. This is
what Joshua did, when Israel was defeated before Ai. This is what David did,
when he was in danger at Keliah. This is what Hezekiah did, when he received the
letter from Sennacherib. This is what the Church did, when Peter was put in
prison. This is what Paul did, when he was cast into the dungeon at Philippi.
The only way to be really happy, in such a world as this is to be ever casting all
our cares on God. It is the trying to carry their own burdens which so often makes
believers sad. If they will only tell their troubles to God He will enable them to
bear them as easily as Samson did the gates of Gaza. If they are resolved to keep
them to themselves they will find one day that the very grass-hopper is a burden.
(Eccles. xii. 5.)
There is a friend ever waiting to help us, if we will only unbosom to Him our
sorrow,—a friend who pitied the poor, and sick, and sorrowful, when He was
upon earth,—a friend who knows the heart of a man, for He lived thirty-three
years as a man amongst us,—a friend who can weep with the weepers, for He was
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,—a friend who is able to help us, for
there never was earthly pain He could not cure. That friend is Jesus Christ. The
way to be happy is to be always opening our hearts to Him. Oh, that we were all
like that poor Christian negro, who only answered, when threatened and punished,
“I must tell the Lord.”
Jesus can make those happy who trust Him and call on Him, whatever be their
outward condition. He can give them peace of heart in a prison,—contentment in
the midst of poverty,—comfort in the midst of bereavements,—joy on the brink of
the grave. There is a mighty fulness in Him for all His believing members,—a
fulness that is ready to be poured out on every one who will ask in prayer. Oh,
that men would understand that happiness does not depend on outward circum-
stances, but on the state of the heart!
Prayer can lighten crosses for us however heavy. It can bring down to our side
One who will help us to bear them.—Prayer can open a door for us when our way
seems hedged up. It can bring down One who will say, “This is the way, walk in
it”—Prayer can let in a ray of hope, when all our earthly prospects seem dark-
ened. It can bring down One who will say, “I will never leave thee nor forsake
thee.”—Prayer can obtain relief for us when those we love most are taken away,
and the world feels empty. It can bring down One who can fill the gap in our
hearts with Himself, and say to the waves within, “Peace: be still!” Oh, that men
were not so like Hagar in the wilderness, blind to the well of living waters close
beside them! (Gen. xxi. 19.)
I want the readers of this paper to be really happy Christians. I am certain I
cannot urge on them a more important duty than prayer.

And now it is high time for me to bring this paper to an end. I trust I have
brought before my readers things that will be seriously considered. I heartily pray
God that this consideration may be blessed to their souls.

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 (1) Let me speak a parting word to those who do not pray. I dare not suppose
that all who read these pages will be praying people. If you are a prayerless per-
son, suffer me to speak to you this day on God’s behalf.
Prayerless friend, I can only warn you; but I do warn you most solemnly. I
warn you that you are in a position of fearful danger. If you die in your present
state you are a lost soul. You will only rise again to be eternally miserable. I warn
you that of all professing Christians you are most utterly without excuse. There is
not a single good reason that you can show for living without prayer.
It is useless to say you know not how to pray. Prayer is the simplest act in all re-
ligion. It is simply speaking to God. It needs neither learning, nor wisdom, nor
book-knowledge to begin it. It needs nothing but heart and will. The weakest in-
fant can cry when he is hungry. The poorest beggar can hold out his hand for an
alms, and does not wait to find fine words. The most ignorant man will find some-
thing to say to God, if he has only a mind.
It is useless to say you have no convenient place to pray in. Any man can find a
place private enough, if he is disposed. Our Lord prayed on a mountain; Peter on
the house-top; Isaac in the field; Nathanael under the fig-tree; Jonah in the
whale’s belly. Any place may become a closet, an oratory, and a Bethel, and be to
us the presence of God.
It is useless to say you have no time. There is plenty of time, if men will only
employ it. Time may be short, but time is always long enough for prayer. Daniel
had all the affairs of a kingdom on his hands, and yet he prayed three times a day.
David was ruler over a mighty nation, and yet he says, “Evening and morning and
at noon will I pray.” (Psalm lv. 17.) When time is really wanted, time can always
be found.
It is useless to say you cannot pray till you have faith and a new heart, and that
you must sit still and wait for them. This is to add sin to sin. It is bad enough to be
unconverted and going to hell. It is even worse to say, “I know it, but I will not
cry for mercy.” This is a kind of argument for which there is no warrant in Scrip-
ture. “Call ye upon the Lord,” saith Isaiah, “while He is near.” (Isaiah Iv. 6.)
“Take with you words, and come unto the Lord,” says Hosea. (Hosea xiv. 1.)
“Repent and pray,” says Peter to Simon Magus. (Acts viii. 22.) If you want faith
and a new heart, go and cry to the Lord for them. The very attempt to pray has
often been the quickening of a dead soul. Alas, there is no devil so dangerous as a
dumb devil.
Oh, prayerless man, who and what are you that you will not ask anything of
God? Have you made a covenant with death and hell? Are you at peace with the
worm and the fire? Have you no sins to be pardoned? Have you no fear of eternal
torment? Have you no desire after heaven? Oh, that you would awake from your
present folly! Oh, that you would consider your latter end! Oh, that you would
arise and call upon God! Alas, there is a day coming when men shall pray loudly,
“Lord, Lord, open to us,” but all too late;—when many shall cry to the rocks to
fall on them, and the hills to cover them, who would never cry to God. In all af-
fection I warn you. Beware lest this be the end of your soul. Salvation is very near
you. Do not lose heaven for want of asking.
(2) Let me speak in the next place to those who have real desires for salvation,

13
but know not what steps to take or where to begin. I cannot but hope that some
readers may be in this state of mind, and if there be but one such I must offer him
encouragement and advice.
In every journey there must be a first step. There must be a change from sitting
still to moving forward. The journeyings of Israel from Egypt to Canaan were
long and wearisome. Forty years passed away before they crossed Jordan. Yet
there was someone who moved first when they marched from Rameses to Suc-
coth. When does a man really take his first step in coming out from sin and the
world? He does it in the day when he first prays with his heart.
In every building the first stone must be laid, and the first blow must be struck.
The ark was 120 years in building. Yet there was a day when Noah laid his axe to
the first tree he cut down to form it. The temple of Solomon was a glorious build-
ing. But there was a day when the first huge stone was laid at the foot of Mount
Moriah. When does the building of the Spirit really begin to appear in a man’s
heart? It begins, so far as we can judge, when he first pours out his heart to God in
prayer.
If any reader of this paper desires salvation, and wants to know what to do, I
advise him to go this very day to the Lord Jesus Christ, in the first private place he
can find, and entreat Him in prayer to save his soul.
Tell Him that you have heard that He receives sinners and has said, “Him that
cometh unto Me I will in nowise cast out.” (John vi. 37.) Tell Him that you are a
poor vile sinner, and that you come to Him on the faith of His own invitation. Tell
Him you put yourself wholly and entirely in His hands,—that you feel vile and
helpless, and hopeless in yourself,—and that except He saves you, you have no
hope to be saved at all. Beseech Him to deliver you from the guilt, the power, and
the consequences of sin. Beseech Him to pardon you and wash you in His own
blood. Beseech Him to give you a new heart, and plant the Holy Spirit in your
soul. Beseech Him to give you grace, and faith, and will, and power to be His dis-
ciple and servant from this day for ever. Yes: go this very day, and tell these
things to the Lord Jesus Christ, if you really are in earnest about your soul.
Tell Him in your own way and your own words. If a doctor came to see you
when sick you could tell him where you felt pain. If your soul really feels its dis-
ease you can surely find something to tell Christ.
Doubt not His willingness to save you, because you are a sinner. It is Christ’s
office to save sinners. He says Himself, “I came not to call the righteous, but sin-
ners to repentance.” (Luke v. 32.)
Wait not, because you feel unworthy. Wait for nothing: wait for nobody. Wait-
ing comes from the devil. Just as you are, go to Christ. The worse you are, the
more need you have to apply to Him. You will never mend yourself by staying
away.
Fear not because your prayer is stammering, your words feeble, and your lan-
guage poor. Jesus can understand you. Just as a mother understands the first bab-
blings of her infant, so does the blessed Saviour understand sinners. He can read a
sigh, and see a meaning in a groan.
Despair not, because you do not get an answer immediately. While you are
speaking, Jesus is listening. If He delays an answer, it is only for wise reasons,

14
and to try if you are in earnest. Pray on, and the answer will surely come. Though
it tarry, wait for it: it will surely come at last.
If you have any desire to be saved, remember the advice I have given you this
day. Act upon it honestly and heartily, and you shall be saved.
(3) Let me speak, lastly, to those who do pray. I trust that some who read this
paper know well what prayer is, and have the Spirit of adoption. To all such I of-
fer a few words of brotherly counsel and exhortation. The incense offered in the
tabernacle was ordered to be made in a particular way. Not every kind of incense
would do. Let us remember this, and be careful about the matter and manner of
our prayers.
If I know anything of a Christian’s heart, you to whom I now speak are often
sick of your own prayers. You never enter into the Apostle’s words, “When I
would do good, evil is present with me” (Rom. vii. 21), so thoroughly as you
sometimes do upon your knees. You can understand David’s words, “I hate vain
thoughts.” You can sympathize with that poor converted Hottentot, who was
overheard praying, “Lord, deliver me from all my enemies; and, above all, from
that bad man myself!”—There are few children of God who do not often find the
season of prayer a season of conflict. The devil has special wrath against us when
he sees us on our knees. Yet I believe that prayers which cost us no trouble should
be regarded with great suspicion. I believe we are very poor judges of the good-
ness of our prayers, and that the prayer which pleases us least often pleases God
most. Suffer me then, as a companion in the Christian warfare, to offer you a few
words of exhortation. One thing, at least, we all feel,—we must pray. We cannot
give it up: we must go on.
(a) I commend, then, to your attention the importance of reverence and humil-
ity in prayer. Let us never forget what we are, and what a solemn thing it is to
speak with God. Let us beware of rushing into His presence with carelessness and
levity. Let us say to ourselves, “I am on holy ground. This is no other than the
gate of heaven. If I do not mean what I say, I am trifling with God. If I regard in-
iquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me.” Let us keep in mind the words of
Solomon: “Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thine heart be hasty to utter
anything before God; for God is in heaven. and thou on earth.” (Eccles. v. 2.)
When Abraham spoke to God, he said, “I am dust and ashes.” When Job spoke,
he said, “I am vile.” (Gen. xviii. 27; Job xl. 4.) Let us .do likewise.
(b) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance. of praying spiritually.
I mean by this that we should labour always to have the direct help of the Spirit in
our prayers, and beware above all things of formality. There is nothing so spiritual
but that it may become a form, and this is specially true of private prayer. We may
insensibly get into the habit of using the fittest possible words, and offering the
most Scriptural petitions; and yet we may do it all by rote, without feeling it, and
walk daily round an old beaten path, like a horse in a mill. I desire to touch this
point with caution and delicacy. I know that there are certain great things we daily
want, and that there is nothing necessarily formal in asking for these things in the
same words. The world, the devil, and our hearts, are daily the same. Of necessity
we must daily go over old ground. But this I say,—we must be very careful on
this point. If the skeleton and outline of our prayers be by habit almost a form, let

15
us strive that the clothing and filling up of our prayers be as far as possible of the
Spirit. As to praying out of a book, it is a habit I cannot praise. If we can tell our
doctors the state of our bodies without a book, we ought to be able to tell the state
of our souls to God. I have no objection to a man using crutches, when he is first
recovering from a broken limb. It is better to use crutches than not to walk at all.
But if I saw him all his life on crutches, I should not think it matter for congratula-
tion. I should like to see him strong enough to throw his crutches away.
(c) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of making prayer a
regular business of life. I might say something of the value of regular times in the
day for prayer. God is a God of order. The hours for morning and evening sacri-
fice in the Jewish temple were not fixed as they were without a meaning. Disorder
is eminently one of the fruits of sin. But I would not bring any under bondage.
This only I say, that it is essential to your soul’s health to make praying a part of
the business of every twenty-four hours in your life. Just as you allot time to eat-
ing, sleeping, and business, so also allot time to prayer. Choose your own hours
and seasons. At the very least, speak with God in the morning, before you speak
with the world; and speak with God at night, after you have done with the world.
But settle it down in your minds that prayer is one of the great things of every
day. Do not drive it into a corner. Do not give it the scraps, and leavings, and par-
ings of your day. Whatever else you make a business of, make a business of
prayer.
(d) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of perseverance in
prayer. Once having begun the habit, never give it up. Your heart will sometimes
say, “We have had family prayers; what mighty harm if we leave private prayer
undone?”—Your body will sometimes say, “You are unwell, or sleepy, or weary;
you need not pray.”—Your mind will sometimes say, “You have important busi-
ness to attend to today; cut short your prayers.” Look on all such suggestions as
coming direct from the devil. They are all as good as saying, “Neglect your soul.”
I do not maintain that prayers should always be of the same length;—but I do say,
let no excuse make you give up prayer. It is not for nothing that Paul said, “Con-
tinue in prayer,” and “Pray without ceasing.” (Colos. iv. 2; 1 Thess. v. 7.) He did
not mean that men should be always on their knees, as an old sect, called the Eu-
chitae, supposed. But he did mean that our prayers should be like the continual
burnt offering,—a thing steadily persevered in every day;—that it should be like
seed-time and harvest, and summer and winter,—a thing that should unceasingly
come round at regular seasons;—that it should be like the fire on the altar, not al-
ways consuming sacrifices, but never completely going out. Never forget that you
may tie together morning and evening devotions by an endless chain of short
ejaculatory prayers throughout the day. Even in company, or business, or in the
very streets, you may be silently sending up little winged messengers to God, as
Nehemiah did in the very presence of Artaxerxes. (Neh. ii. 4.) And never think
that time is wasted which is given to God. A nation does not become poorer be-
cause it loses one year of working days in seven by keeping the Sabbath. A Chris-
tian never finds he is a loser in the long run by persevering in prayer.
(d) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of earnestness in
prayer. It is not necessary that a man should shout, or scream, or be very loud, in

16
order to prove that he is in earnest. But it is desirable that we should be hearty,
and fervent, and warm, and ask as if we were really interested in what we were
doing. It is the “effectual fervent” prayer that “availeth much,” and not the cold,
sleepy, lazy, listless one. This is the lesson that is taught us by the expressions
used in Scripture about prayer. It is called, “crying, knocking, wrestling, labour-
ing, striving.” This is the lesson taught us by Scripture examples. Jacob is one. He
said to the angel at Penuel, “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.” (Gen.
xxxii. 26.) Daniel is another. Hear how he pleaded with God: “O Lord, hear; O
Lord, forgive; O Lord, hearken and do; defer not, for thine own sake, O my God.”
(Dan. ix. 19.) Our Lord Jesus Christ is another. It is written of Him, “In the days
of His flesh He offered up prayer and supplication, with strong crying and tears.”
(Heb. v. 7.) Alas, how unlike is this to many of our supplications! How tame and
lukewarm they seem by comparison! How truly might God say to many of us,
“You do not really want what you pray for!” Let us try to amend this fault. Let us
knock loudly at the door of grace, like Mercy in “Pilgrim’s Progress,” as if we
must perish unless heard. Let us settle it down in our minds, that cold prayers are
a sacrifice without fire. Let us remember the story of Demosthenes, the great ora-
tor, when one came to him, and wanted him to plead his cause. He heard him
without attention, while he told his story without earnestness. The man saw this,
and cried out with anxiety that it was all true. “Ah!” said Demosthenes, “I believe
you now.”
(f) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of praying with faith.
We should endeavour to believe that our prayers are always heard, and that if we
ask things according to God’s will, we shall always be answered. This is the plain
command of our Lord Jesus Christ: “Whatsoever things ye desire, when ye pray,
believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them.” (Mark xi. 24). Faith is to
prayer what the feather is to the arrow: without it prayer will not hit the mark. We
should cultivate the habit of pleading promises in our prayers. We should take
with us some promise, and say, “Lord, here is Thine own word pledged. Do for us
as Thou hast said.” (2 Sam. vii. 25.) This was the habit of Jacob, and Moses, and
David. The 119th Psalm is full of things asked, “according to Thy word.” Above
all, we should cultivate the habit of expecting answers to our prayers. We should
do like the merchant who sends his ships to sea. We should not be satisfied unless
we see some return. Alas, there are few points on which Christians come short so
much as this. The Church at Jerusalem made prayer without ceasing for Peter in
prison; but when the prayer was answered, they would hardly believe it. (Acts xii.
15.) It is a solemn saying of old Traill’s, “There is no surer mark of trifling in
prayer, than when men are careless what they get by prayer.”
(g) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of boldness in prayer.
There is an unseemly familiarity in some men’s prayers, which I cannot praise.
But there is such a thing as a holy boldness, which is exceedingly to be desired. I
mean such boldness as that of Moses, when he pleads with God not to destroy Is-
rael: “Wherefore,” says he, “should the Egyptians speak and say, For mischief did
He bring them out, to slay them in the mountains? Turn from Thy fierce anger.”
(Exod. xxxii. 12.) I mean such boldness as that of Joshua, when the children of
Israel were defeated before Ai: “What,” says he, “wilt Thou do unto Thy great

17
name?” (Josh. vii. 9.) This is the boldness for which Luther was remarkable. One
who heard him praying said, “What a spirit,—what a confidence was in his very
expressions! With such a reverence he sued, as one begging of God, and yet with
such hope and assurance, as if he spake with a loving father or friend.” This is the
boldness which distinguished Bruce, a great Scotch divine of the 17th century.
His prayers were said to be “like bolts shot up into heaven.” Here also I fear we
sadly come short. We do not sufficiently realize the believer’s privileges. We do
not plead as often as we might, “Lord, are we not Thine own people? Is it not for
Thy glory that we should be sanctified? Is it not for Thine honour that thy Gospel
should increase? “
(h) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of fulness in prayer. I
do not forget that our Lord warns us against the example of the Pharisees, who for
pretence made long prayers, and commands us, when we pray, not to use vain
repetitions. But I cannot forget, on the other hand, that He has given His own
sanction to large and long devotions, by continuing all night in prayer to God. At
all events we are not likely in this day to err on the side of praying too much.
Might it not rather be feared that many believers in this generation pray too little?
Is not the actual amount of time that many Christians give to prayer in the aggre-
gate very small? I am afraid these questions cannot be answered satisfactorily. I
am afraid the private devotions of many are most painfully scanty and limited,
just enough to prove they are alive, and no more. They really seem to want little
from God. They seem to have little to confess, little to ask for, and little to thank
Him for. Alas, this is altogether wrong! Nothing is more common than to hear be-
lievers complaining that they do not get on. They tell us that they do not grow in
grace, as they could desire. Is it not rather to be suspected that many have quite as
much grace as they ask for? Is it not the true account of many, that they have lit-
tle, because they ask little? The cause of their weakness is to be found in their
own stunted, dwarfish, clipped, contracted, hurried, little, narrow, diminutive
prayers. They have not because they ask not. Oh, reader, we are not straitened in
Christ, but in ourselves. The Lord says, “Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.”
But we are like the king of Israel who smote on the ground thrice and stayed,
when he ought to have smitten five or six times. (Psalm lxxxi. 10; 2 Kings xiii.
18, 19.)
(i) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of particularity in
prayer. We ought not to be content with great general petitions. We ought to spec-
ify our wants before the throne of grace. It should not be enough to confess we are
sinners. We should name the sins of which our conscience tells us we are most
guilty. It should not be enough to ask for holiness. We should name the graces in
which we feel most deficient. It should not be enough to tell the Lord we are in
trouble. We should describe our trouble and all its peculiarities. This is what
Jacob did, when he feared his brother Esau. He tells God exactly what it is that he
fears. (Gen. xxxii. 11.) This is what Eliezer did, when he sought a wife for his
master’s son. He spreads before God precisely what he wants. (Gen. xxiv. 12.)
This is what Paul did, when he had a thorn in the flesh. He besought the Lord. (2
Cor. xii. 8.) This is true faith and confidence. We should believe that nothing is
too small to be named before God. What should we think of the patient who told

18
his doctor he was ill, but never went into particulars? What should we think of the
wife who told her husband she was unhappy, but did not specify the cause? What
should we think of the child who told his father he was in trouble, but nothing
more? Let us never forget that Christ is the true bride-groom of the soul,—the true
physician of the heart,—the real father of all His people. Let us show that we feel
this, by being unreserved in our communications with Him. Let us hide no secrets
from Him. Let us tell Him all our hearts.
(j) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of intercession in our
prayers. We are all selfish by nature; and our selfishness is very apt to stick to us,
even when we are converted. There is a tendency in us to think only of our own
souls,—our own spiritual conflict,—our own progress in religion, and to forget
others. Against this tendency we have all need to watch and strive, and not least in
our prayers. We should study to be of a public spirit. We should stir ourselves up
to name other names beside our own before the throne of grace. We should try to
bear in our hearts the whole world,—the heathen,—the Jews,—the Roman Catho-
lics,—the body of true believers,—the professing Protestant Churches,—the
country in which we live,—the congregation to which we belong,—the household
in which we sojourn,—the friends and relations we are connected with. For each
and all of these we should plead. This is the highest charity. He loves me best who
loves me in his prayers. This is for our soul’s health. It enlarges our sympathies
and expands our hearts. This is for the benefit of the Church. The wheels of all
machinery for extending the Gospel are oiled by prayer. They do as much for the
Lord’s cause who intercede like Moses on the mount, as they do who fight like
Joshua in the thick of the battle. This is to be like Christ. He bears the names of
His people on His breast and shoulders as their High Priest before the Father. Oh,
the privilege of being like Jesus! This is to be a true helper to ministers. If I must
needs choose a congregation, give me a people that prays.
(k) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of thankfulness in
prayer. I know well that asking God is one thing, and praising God is another. But
I see so close a connection between prayer and praise in the Bible, that I dare not
call that true prayer in which thankfulness has no part. It is not for nothing that
Paul says, “By prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your request be
made known unto God.” (Phil. iv. 6.) “Continue in prayer, and watch in the same
with thanksgiving.”(Coloss. iv. 2.) It is of mercy that we are not in hell. It is of
mercy that we have the hope of heaven. It is of mercy that we live in a land of
spiritual light. It is of mercy that we have been called by the Spirit, and not left to
reap the fruit of our own ways. It is of mercy that we still live, and have opportu-
nities of glorifying God actively or passively. Surely, these thoughts should crowd
on our minds whenever we speak with God. Surely, we should never open our lips
in prayer without blessing God for that free grace by which we live, and for that
loving-kindness which endureth for ever. Never was there an eminent saint who
was not full of thankfulness. St. Paul hardly ever writes an Epistle without begin-
ning with thankfulness. Men like Whitefield in the last century, and Bickersteth,
and Marsh, and Haldane Stewart, in our own time, were ever running over with
thankfulness. Oh, if we would be bright and shining lights in our day, we must
cherish a spirit of praise! And above all, let our prayers be thankful prayers.

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 (1) I commend to you, in the last place, the importance of watchfulness over
your prayers. Prayer is that point of all others in religion at which you must be on
your guard. Here it is that true religion begins: here it flourishes, and here it de-
cays. Tell me what a man’s prayers are, and I will soon tell you the state of his
soul. Prayer is the spiritual pulse: by this the spiritual health may always be tested.
Prayer is the spiritual weather-glass: by this we may always know whether it is
fair or foul with our hearts. Oh, let us keep an eye continually upon our private
devotions! Here is the pith, and marrow, and backbone of our practical Christian-
ity. Sermons, and books, and tracts, and committee meetings, and the company of
good men, are all good in their way; but they will never make up for the neglect
of private prayer. Mark well the places, and society, and companions, that un-
hinge your hearts for communion with God, and make your prayers drive heavily.
There be on your guard. Observe narrowly what friends and what employments
leave your soul in the most spiritual frame, and most ready to speak with God. To
these cleave and stick fast. If you will only take care of your prayers, I will en-
gage that nothing shall go very wrong with your soul.
I offer these points for private consideration. I do it in all humility. I know no
one who needs to be reminded of them more than I do myself. But I believe them
to be God’s own truth, and I should like myself and all I love to feel them more.
I want the times we live in to be praying times. I want the Christians of our day
to be praying Christians. I want the Church of our age to be a praying Church. My
heart’s desire and prayer in sending forth this paper is to promote a spirit of
prayerfulness. I want those who never prayed yet, to arise and call upon God; and
I want those who do pray, to improve their prayers every year, and to see that they
are not getting slack, and praying amiss.

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