THE

Nature, Necessity, and Power of Prayer.

I will yet for this be inquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them.-EZEKIEL XXXVi. 37.

IN In pursuing his voyage to the shores of the new world the seaman steers southward. His object is to catch the trade wind. It blows so steadily from east to west, that having once caught it in his sails he has often nothing else to do. With his ship's head set before that wind, he is borne steadily along beneath a brilliant sun, and gently wafted over a summer sea. His voyage is one extended, happy holiday. The thrilling cry of land comes at length from the out-look on the topmast, and he drops his anchor in some quiet bay of those lovely islands, where the waves wash coral strands, and the breezes that blow seaward from their spicy forests, come loaded with delicious perfumes.

It is not thus man reaches the shores of heaven. That landing may be a picture of his arrival-the voyage is not. In yonder vessel, which enters the harbor with masts sprung, sails in rags, bulwarks gone, bearing all the marks of having battled with many a storm and ridden many a crested wave, and on her deck a crew of weather-beaten and worn men, happy and glad to reach the land again-behold the plight in which the believer arrives at heaven. It is hard work to get there? No doubt of it. Paul, the man, in labors more abundant, in stripes above

measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths of Paul, the martyr, thrice beaten with rods, once stoned, thrice shipwrecked, in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by his countrymen, by the heathen, in the city, in the wilderness, on the sea-Paul, the patient sufferer for Christ, of a life of weariness, and painfulness, and watchings, hunger, thirst, fastings, cold, nakedness-Paul even stood alarmed, lest he himself should be a castaway. "The righteous scarcely are saved." The busiest in praying, watching, working, fighting, are no more than saved. O then, "if the righteous scarcely are saved, where shall the ungodly and the wicked appear?"

My text summons you to prayer.. But does any man think, that, by repeating a daily prayer-learned long ago perhaps at his mother's knee, reading some verses of Scripture, abstaining from grosser sins, attending church on Sabbath, and the Lord's table on communion days, he is by this smooth and easy way to reach the kingdom, and receive its crown? What says our Lord, "The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force;" it is the prize of men who are valiant in faith and strong in prayer-men like those who, at bugle's sound or flare of rocket, rush from the trenches, and springing into the deadly breach-leaping into the very mouth of death-fight their way on and up till their flag of victory waves above the smoke of battle.

Or, take Paul's figure of the energies and activities of the Christian life. Look at these two men, stripped to the skin, who stand face to face, confronting each other in the public arena. They have been in training for weeks and months. Strangers to the pleasures of ease and sweets of luxury, they have

been on foot every day by the dawn. Abstaining from all indulgences which might enervate their frame, in hard bed, hard food, hard work, they have endured every trial which could develop their muscular powers, and add to their strength. And now these athletes are met to contend for the prize; foot touches foot, eyes watch eyes, and their spare but sinewy and iron forms are disrobed, that nothing may impede the lightning rapidity of their movements, or lessen the power of the stroke. The signal is given. Blows fall thick as hail; and now the candidates are rolling on the ground; now they emerge from a cloud of dust to continue the fight, till one-planting a tremendous stroke on the head of his antagonist-stands alone in the arena, and amid applauses that rend the sky and waken up the distant echoes, holds the field. At this moment Paul steps forward, and, addressing Christians, says, So fight; so win. "They do it to obtain a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible."

Woe to the man, in these old games, who allowed his competitor to catch him off his guard. Woe to the man who turned to look on father, mother, wife, or mistress. Woe to the man who lifted his eyes but for a moment from the glaring eyeball of his antago nist; that moment a ringing blow fells him to the earth-he bites the dust.

Not less does our safety depend on constant prayer and watchfulness. "Be instant in prayer." "Pray

without ceasing."

will never have to

"Watch and pray.'

"Watch and pray." Ah! you offer Satan an advantage twice. Should he catch you asleep, as David caught Saul— when he put aside the spear of Abashai that gleamed in the moonlight above the unconscious sleeper, and whispered, "Destroy him not"-Satan will not be

satisfied with carrying off spear and water-cruse, or skirt of robe; he will not be content to prove how he had you in his power, and that, like a noble enemy who declines to take advantage of a sleeping man, he had generously left you your peace and piety. Constant prayer, unceasing watchfulness, are what your interests imperatively demand. These the Christian life requires, and these the crown of redemption rewards. Observe how in my text God hangs all the blessings of salvation upon prayer. He says-as it were I have had pity upon sinners; I have provided pardon for the guilty, justification through the righteousness, and life through the death of my Son; I have promised to take away the heart of stone and replace it with one of flesh; I have promised my Spirit to sanctify, sufficient grace, a certain heavenall these blood-bought, gracious, happy, holy blessings shall be yours, freely yours; yet not yours, unless they are sought in prayer. "I will yet for this be enquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them." In directing your attention to prayer, let me notice--

I. Nature itself teaches us to pray.

Like our intuitive belief in the existence of the soul, or in man's responsibility, there seems to be lodged in every man's breast, what I may call an instinct to pray, and an intuitive belief in the efficacy of prayer. Prayer must be natural, because it is universal. Never yet did traveler find a nation upon earth but prayed in some form or other to some demon or god. Races of men have been found without raiment, without houses, without manufactures, without the rudiments of arts, but never without prayers; no more than without speech, human features, or human passions.

Prayer is universal, and seems to be as natural to man as the feelings which prompt an infant to draw the milk of a mother's bosom, and by its cries to claim a mother's protection. Even so man is-as it were instinctively-moved to cast himself into the arms of God, to seek divine help in times of danger, and in times of sorrow to weep on the bosom of a Father who is in heaven.

Nature and necessity have wrung prayers even from an atheist's lips.

There was a celebrated poet, who was an atheist-or at least professed to be so. According to him there was no God. Very strange! A rude heap of bricks shot from a cart upon the ground was never seen to arrange itself into the doors, stairs, chambers, and chimneys of a house. The dust and filings on a brassfounder's table had never been known to form themselves into the wheels and mechanism of a watch. The types loosely flung from the founder's mould never yet fell into the form of a poem, such as Homer, or Dante, or Milton would have constructed. The rudest hut of Bushmen, the Indian's simple canoefashioned by fire from a forest tree, the plainest clay urn, in which savage affection had enshrined the ashes of the dead, were never supposed to owe their form to the hands of chance. Yet this man believed (if it is possible to think so,) that nature's magnificent temple was built without an architect, her flowers of glorious beauty were colored without a painter, and her intricate, complicated, but perfect machinery constructed without an intelligent mind. According to him there was no God—the belief in a God was a delusion, prayer a base superstition, and religion but the iron fetters of a rapacious priesthood. So he held