Yea, ask what thou wilt, to the second throne in heaven, It is thine, for whom it was appointed; there is no limit unto prayer:

But and if thou cease to ask, tremble, thou self-suspended creature,

For thy strength is cut off as was Samson's: and the hour of thy doom is come.

Frall art thou, O man, as a bubble on the breaker, Weak and governed by externals, like a poor bird caught in the storm;

Yet thy momentary breath can still the raging waters, Thy hand can touch a lever that may move the world. O Merciful, we strike eternal covenant with thee,

For man may take for his ally the King who ruleth

kings:

How strong, yet how most weak, in utter pozerty how rich,

What possible omnipotence to good is dormant in a

man!

Behold that fragile form of delicate transparent beauty, Whose light-blue eye and hectic cheek are lit by the bale-fires of decline,

All droopingly she lieth, as a dew-laden lily,

Her flaxen tresses, rashly luxuriant, dank with unhealthy moisture;

Hath not thy heart said of her, Alas! poor child of weakness?

Thou hast erred: Goliath of Gath stood not in half her strength:

Terribly she fighteth in the van as the virgin daughter of Orleans,

She beareth the banner of heaven, her onset is the rushing cataract,

Seraphim rally at her side, and the captain of that host is God,

And the serried ranks of evil are routed by the lightning of her eye;

She is the King's remembrancer, and steward of many blessings,

Holding the buckler of security over her unthankful land:

For that weak fluttering heart is strong in faith assured, Dependence is her might, and behold - she prayeth.

Angels are round the good man, to catch the incense of his prayers,

And they fly to minister kindness to those for whom he pleadeth;

For the altar of his heart is lighted, and burneth before God continually,

And he breatheth, conscious of his joy, the native atmosphere of heaven :

Yea, though poor, and contemned, and ignorant of this world's wisdom,

Ill can his fellows spare him, though they know not of his value.

Thousands bewail a hero, and a nation mourneth a king,

But the whole universe lamenteth the loss of a man of

prayer.

Verily, were it not for One, who sitteth on his rightful throne,

Crowned with a rainbow of emerald, the green memorial of earth,

For one, a meditating man, that hath clad his Godhead with mortality,

And offereth prayer without ceasing, the royal priest of Nature,

Matter and life and mind had sunk into dark annihila

tion,

And the lightning frown of Justice withered the world into nothing.

Thus, O worshipper of reason, thou hast heard the sum of the matter:

And woe to his hairy scalp that restraineth prayer before God.

Prayer is a creature's strength, his very breath and being;

Prayer is the golden key that can open the wicket of Merey:

Prayer is the magic sound that saith to Fate, So be it; Prayer is the slender nerve that moveth the muscles of Omnipotence.

Wherefore, pray, ✪ creature, for many and great are thy

wants;

Thy mind, thy conscience, and thy being, thy rights commend thee unto prayer,

The cure of all cares, the grand panacea for all pains, Doubt's destroyer, ruin's remedy, the antidote to all

anxieties.

So then, God is true, and yet He hath not changed: It is he that sendeth the petition, to answer it according to his will.

The Lord's Prager.

Enquirest thou, ✪ man, wherewithal may I come unto the Lord?

And with what wonder-working sounds may I move the majesty of heaven?

There is a model to thy hand; upon that do thou frame thy supplication;

Wisdom hath measured its words, and redemption urgeth

thee to use them.

Call thy God thy Father, and yet not thine alone,

For thou art but one of many, thy brotherhood is with
all:
Remember his high estate, that he dwelleth King of
Heaven;

So shall thy thoughts be humbled, nor love be unmixed with reverence:

Be thy first petition unselfish, the honor of Him who made thee,

And that in the depths of thy heart his memory be shrined in holiness:

Pray for that blessed time, when good shall triumph over evil,

And one universal temple echo the perfections of Jehovah :

Bend thou to his good will, and subserve his holy pur

poses,

Till in thee, and those around thee, grow a little heaven

upon earth:

Humbly, as a grateful almsman, beg thy bread of God, Bread for thy triple estate, for thou hast a trinity of

nature:

Humility smootheth the way, and gratitude softeneth the heart,

Be then thy prayer for pardon mingled with a tear of penitence:

Yea, and while, all unworthy thou leanest on the hand that should smite,

Thou canst not from thy fellows withhold thy less forgiveness.

To thy father thy weaknesses are known, and thou hast not hid thy sin,

Therefore ask him, in all trust, to lead thee from the dangers of temptation;

While the last petition of the soul that breatheth on the confines of prayer

Is deliverance from sin and the evil one, the miseries of earth and hell.

And wherefore, child of hope, should the rock of thy confidence be sure?

Thou knowest that God heareth, and promiseth an answer of peace;

Thou knowest that he is King, and none can stay his hand;

Thou knowest his power to be boundless, for there is none other :

And to him thou givest glory, as a creature of his workmanship and favor,

For the never-ending term of thy saved and bright existence.

of Discretion.

For what then was I born?-to fill the circling year With daily toil for daily bread, with sordid pains and pleasures?

To walk this chequered world, alternate light and dark

ness,

The day-dreams of deep thought followed by the nightdreams of fancy?

to dig my kindred

To decorate the gallery of art?—to clear a few acres

For more than these, my soul, thy God hath lent thee

life.

Is then that noble end to feed this mind with knowledge,
To mix for mine own thirst the sparkling wine of wisdom,
To light with many lamps the caverns of my heart,
To reap, in the furrows of my brain, good harvest of
right reasons?

For more than these, my soul, thy God hath lent thee life.