No man can pray in faith, whose prayer is not grounded on a promise:
Yet a good man commendeth all things to the righteous wisdom of his God:
For those who pray in faith, trust the immutable Jehovah,
And they wh› ask blessings unpromised, lean on uncovenanted mercy.
Man, regard thy prayers as a purpose of love to thy soul;
Esteem the providence that led to them as an index of God's good-will:
So shalt thou pray aright, and thy words shall meet with acceptance.
Also, in pleading for others, be thankful for the fullness of thy prayer.
For if thou art ready to ask, the Lord is more ready to bestow.
The salt preserveth the sea, and the saints uphold the earth;
Their prayers are the thousand pillars that prop the canopy of nature.
Verily, an hour without prayer, from some terrestrial mind,
Were a curse in the calendar of time, a spot of the blackness of darkness.
Perchance the terrible day, when the world must rock into ruins,
Will be one unwhitened by prayer,—shall He find faith on the earth?
For there is an economy of mercy, as of wisdom, and power, and means;
Neither is one blessing granted, unbesought from the treasury of good;
And the charitable heart of the Being, to depend upon whom is happiness,
Never withholdeth a bounty, so long as his subject prayeth;
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
Frail 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 poverty 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 balefires of decline,
All droopingly she lieth, as a dew-laden lily,
Her flaxen tresses, rashly luxuriant, dank with unhealthy moisture:
Hath not thy heart raid 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 comtemned, 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 for its 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, (15) the green memorial of earth, --
For one, a mediating 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 annihilation,
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 Mercy;
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, O creature, for many and great are thy wants;
Thy mind, thy conscience, and thy being, thy rights commend thee upta
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.
INQUIREST thou, O man, wherewithal may I come unto the Lord?
And with what wonder-working sounds may I move the majesty of heaven î
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;
Su shall thy thoughts be humbled, nor love be unmixed with reverence :
Be hy first petition unselfish, the honour 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 purposes,
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 the tear of penitence;
Yea, and while, all unworthy, thou leanest on the hand that should sunite.
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 favour
For the never-ending term of the saved and bright existence.
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 darkness,
The day dreams of deep thought followed by the night-dreams of fancy i—
To be one in a full procession ?—to dig my kindred clay?—
To decorate the gallery of art ?—to clear a few acres of forest?
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.
Is it to grow stronger in self-government, to check the chafing will,
To curb with tightening rein the mettled steeds of passion,
To welcome with calm heart, far in the voiceless desert,
The gracious visitings of heaven that bless my single self?
For more than these, my soul, thy God hath lent thee life.
To aim at thine own happiness, is an end idolatrous and evil:
In earth, yea in heaven, if thou seek it for itself, seeking thou shalt not find.
Happiness is a roadside flower, growing on the highways of Usefulness;
Plucked, it shall wither in thy hand; passed by, it is fragrance to thy spirit;
Love not thine own soul, regard not thine own weal,
Trample the thyme beneath thy feet; be useful, and be happy!
Thus unto fair conclusions argueth generous youth,
And quickly he starteth on his course, knight-errant to do good.
His sword is edged with arguments, his vizor terrible with censures;
He goeth full mailed in faith, and zeal is flaming at his heart.
Yet one thing he lacketh, the Mentor of the mind.
The quiet whisper of Discretion-Thy time is not yet come.
For he smiteth an oppressor; and vengeance for that smiting
Is dealt in double stripes on the faint body of the victim:
He is glad to give and to distribute; and clamorous pauperism feasteth, While honest labour, pining, hideth his sharp ribs:
He challengeth to a fair field that subtle giant Infidelity,
And worsted in the unequal fight, strengtheneth the hands of error:
He hasteth to teach and preach, as the wai-horse rusheth to the battle,
And to pave a way for truth, would break up the Apennines of prejudice:
He wearieth by stale proofs, where none looked for a reason,
And to the listening ear will urge the false argument of feeling.
So hath it often been, that, judging by results,
The hottest friends of truth have done her deadliest wrong.
Alas! for there are enemies without, glad enough to parley with a traitor
And a zealot will let down the drawbridge, to prove his own prowess:
Yea, from within will he break away a breach in the citadel of truth
That he may fill the gap, for fame, with his own weak body.
Zeal without judgment is an evil, though it be zeal unto good:
Touch not the ark with unclean hand, yea, though it seem to totter.
There are evil who work good, and there are good who work evil,
And foolish backers of wisdom have brought on her many reproaches.
Truth hath more than enough to combat in the minds of all men,
For the mist of sense is a thick veil, and sin hath warped their wills;
Yet doth an officious helper awkwardly prevent her victory,—
These thy wounded hands were smitten in the house of friends:-
To point out a meaning in her words, he will blot those words with his finger;
And winnow chaff into the eyes, before he hath wheat to show:
He will heap sturdy logs on a faint expiring fire,
And with a room in flames, will cast the casement open;
By a shoulder to the wheel downhill harasseth the labouring beast,
And where obstruction were needed, will harm by an ill-judged thrusting-on.
A vessel foundereth at sea, if a storm have unshipped the rudder;
And a mind with much sail shall require heavy ballast.
Take a lever by the middle, thou shalt seem to prove it powerless,
Argue for truth indiscreetly, thou shalt toil for falsehood.
There is plenty of room for a peaceable man in the most thronged assemb1y;
But a quarrelsome spirit is straitened in the open field:
Many a teacher, lacking judgment, hindereth his own lessons;
And the savoury mess of pottage is spoiled by a bitter herb:
The garment woven of a piece is rashly torn by schism,
Because its unwise claimants will not cast lots for its possession.
Discretion guide thee on thy way, noble-minded youth,
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