cant, or ignorant, or unprepared mind, with a heart full of the world; as we shall feel no disposition or qualification for the work we are about to engage in, so we cannot expect that our petitions will be heard or granted. There must be some congruity between the heart and the object, some affinity between the state of our minds and the business in which they are employed, if we would expect success in the work.

the remark of a certain political wit, who apolo- | be always laying in materials for prayer, by a gized for his late attendance in parliament, diligent course of serious reading, by treasurby his being detained while a party of soldiers ing up in our minds the most important truths. were dragging a volunteer to his duty. How If we rush into the divine presence with a vamany excuses do we find for not being in time! | How many apologies for brevity! How many evasions for neglect! How unwilling, too often, are we to come into the divine presence, how reluctant to remain in it! Those hours which are least valuable for business, which are least seasonable for pleasure, we commonly give to religion. Our energies which were so exerted in the society we have just quitted, are sunk as we approach the divine presence. Our hearts, which were all alacrity in some frivolous conversation, become cold and inanimate, as if it were the natural property of devotion to freeze the affections. Our animal spirits, which so readily performed their functions before, now slacken their vigour and lose their vivacity. The sluggish body sympathizes with the unwilling mind, and each promotes the deadness of the other; both are slow in listening to the call of duty; both are soon weary in performing it. As prayer requires all the energies of the compound being of man, so we too often feel as as if there were a conspiracy of body, soul and spirit, to disincline and disqualify us for it.

We are often deceived, both as to the principle and the effect of our prayers. When from some external cause the heart is glad, the spirits light, the thoughts ready, the tongue voluable, a kind of spontaneous eloquence is the result; with this we are pleased, and this ready flow we are willing to impose on ourselves for piety.

On the other hand when the mind is dejected; the animal spirits low; the thoughts confused when apposite words do not readily present themselves, we are apt to accuse our hearts of want of fervour, to lament our weakness, and to monrn that because we have had no pleasure in praying, our prayers have, therefore, not ascended to the throne of mercy. In both cases When the heart is once sincerely turned to we perhaps judge ourselves unfairly. These religion, we need not, every time we pray, ex- unready accents, these faltering praises, these amine into every truth, and seek for conviction ill expressed petitions, may find more acceptover and over again; but assume that those doc-ance than the florid talk with which we were trines are true, the truth of which we have al- so well satisfied the latter consisted, it may be, ready proved. From a general and fixed im- of shining thoughts floating on the fancy, elopression of these principles, will result a taste,quent words dwelling only on the lips: the fora disposedness, a love, so intimate, that the convictions of the understanding will become the affections of the heart.

To be deeply impressed with a few fundamental truths, to digest them thoroughly, to meditate on them seriously, to pray over them fervently, to get them deeply rooted in the heart, will be more productive of faith and holiness, than to labour after variety, ingenuity or elegance. The indulgence of imagination will rather distract than edify. Searching after ingenious thoughts will rather divert the attention from God to ourselves, than promote fixedness of thought, singleness of intention, and devotedness of spirit. Whatever is subtil and refined, is in danger of being unscriptural. If we do not guard the mind it will learn to wander in quest of novelties. It will learn to set more value on original thoughts than devout affections. It is the business of prayer to cast down imaginations which gratify the natural activity of the mind, while they leave the heart unhumbled.

We should confine ourselves to the present business of the present moment; we should keep the mind in a state of perpetual dependence; we should entertain no long views. Now is the accepted time.'-' To day we must hear his voice.'—'Give us this day our daily bread.' The manna will not keep till to-morrow: to-morrow will have its own wants, and must have its own petitions. To-morrow we must seek the bread of heaven afresh.

We should, however, avoid coming to our devotions with unfurnished minds. We should

:

mer was the sighing of a contrite heart, abased by the feeling of its own unworthiness, and awed by the perfections of a holy and heartsearching God. The heart is dissatisfied with its own dull and tasteless repetitions, which, with all their imperfections, infinite goodness may perhaps hear with favour.* We may not only be elated with the fluency, but even with the fervency of our prayers. Vanity may grow out of the very act of renouncing it, and we may begin to feel proud at having humbled ourselves so eloquently.

There is, however, a strain and spirit of prayer equally distinct from that facility and copiousness for which we certainly are never the better in the sight of God, and from that constraint and dryness for which we may be never the worse. There is a simple, solid, pious strain of prayer, in which the supplicant is so filled and occupied with a sense of his own dependence, and of the importance of the things for which he asks, and so persuaded of the power and grace of God through Christ to give him those things, that while he is engaged in it, he does not merely imagine, but feels assured that God is nigh to him as a reconciled Father, so that every burden and doubt are taken off

* Of this sort of repetitions, our admirable churchliturgy has been accused as a fault; but this defect, if it be one, happily accommodates itself to our infirmities. wanders, whose heart accompanies his lips in every Where is the favoured being whose attention never sentence? Is there no absence of mind in the petitioner, no wandering of the thoughts, no inconstancy of the heart? which these repetitions are wisely calculated to correct, to rouse the dead attention, to bring back the strayed affections.

from his mind. He knows,' as Saint John ex-, be given to better things, but gradually destroy presses it, that he has the petitions he desired of God,' and feels the truth of that promise, while they are yet speaking I will hear.' This is the perfection of prayer.

CHAP. VI.

Cultivation of a Devotional Spirit.

To maintain a devotional spirit, two things are especially necessary-habitually to cultivate the disposition, and habitually to avoid whatever is unfavourable to it. Frequent retirement and recollection are indispensable, together with such a general course of reading, as if it do not actually promote the spirit we are endeavouring to maintain, shall never be hostile to it. We should avoid as much as in us lies all such society, all such amusements, as excite tempers which it is the daily business of a Christian to subdue, and all those feelings which it is his constant duty to suppress.

all taste for better things. They sink the mind to their own standard, and give it a sluggish reluctance, we had almost said, a moral incapacity for every thing above their level. The mind, by long habit of stooping, loses its erectness, and yields to its degradation. It becomes so low and narrow by the littleness of the things which engage it, that it requires a painful effort to lift itself high enough, or to open itself wide enough to embrace great and noble objects. The appetite is vitiated. Excess, instead of producing a surfeit, by weakening the digestion, only induces a loathing for stronger nourishment. The faculties which might have been expanding in works of science, or soaring in the contemplation of genius, become satisfied with the impertinences of the most ordinary fiction, lose their relish for the severity of truth, the elegance of taste, and the soberness of religion. Lulled in the torpor of repose, the intellect doses, and enjoys in its waking dream,

All the wild trash of sleep, without the rest. In avoiding books which excite the passions, it would seem strange to include even some deAnd here may we venture to observe, that votional works. Yet such as merely kindle if some things which are apparently innocent, warm feelings, are not always the safest. Let and do not assume an alarming aspect, or bear us rather prefer those, which, while they tend a dangerous character; things which the gene- to raise a devotional spirit, awaken the affections rality of decorous people affirm, (how truly we without disordering them; which while they know not) to be safe for them; yet if we find elevate the desires, purify them, which show us that these things stir up in us improper propen- our own nature, and lay open its corruptions. sities; if they awaken thoughts which ought Such as show us the malignity of sin, the denot to be excited; if they abate our love for re- ceitfulness of our hearts, the feebleness of our ligious exercises, or infringe on our time for best resolutions; such as teach us to pull off performing them; if they make spiritual con- the mask from the fairest appearances, and discerns appear insipid; if they wind our heart a cover every hiding place, where some lurking little more about the world: in short, if we have evil would conceal itself; such as show us not formerly found them injurious to our own souls, what we appear to others, but what we really then let no example or persuasion, no belief of are; such as co-operating with our interior feeltheir alleged innocence, no plea of their perfecting, and showing us our natural state, point out safety, tempt us to indulge in them. It mat- our absolute need of a Redeemer, lead us to seek ters little to our security what they are to others. to him for pardom from a conviction that there Our business is with ourselves. Our respon- is no other refuge, no other salvation. Let us sibility is on our own heads. Others cannot know the side on which we are assailable. Let our own unbiassed judgment determine our opinion; let our own experience decide for our own conduct.

be conversant with such writings as teach us that while we long to obtain the remission of our transgressions, we must not desire the remission of our duties. Let us seek for such a Saviour as will not only deliver us from the punishment of sin, but from its dominion also.

and business, always be thinking of heavenly things; yet the desire, the frame, the propensity, the willingness to return, to them we must, however difficult, endeavour to maintain.

In speaking of books, we cannot forbear noticing that very prevalent sort of reading, which And let us ever bear in mind that the end of is little less productive of evil, little less preju- prayer is not answered when the prayer is dicial to moral and mental improvement, than finished. We should regard prayer as a means that which carries a more formidable appear- to a farther end. The act of prayer is not suf ance. We cannot confine our censure to those ficient, we must cultivate a spirit of prayer. more corrupt writings which deprave the heart, | And though when the actual devotion is over, debauch the imagination, and poison the prin- we cannot, amid the distractions of company ciples. Of these the turpitude is so obvious, that no caution on this head, it is presumed, can be necessary. But if justice forbids us to confound the insipid with the mischievous, the idle with the vicious, and the frivolous with the pro- The proper temper for prayer should precede fligate, still we can only admit of shades, deep the act. The disposition should be wrought in shades we allow, of difference. These works, the mind before the exercise is begun. To bring if comparatively harmless, yet debase the taste, a proud temper to an humble prayer, a luxurious slacken the intellectual nerve, let down the un- habit to a self-denying prayer, or a worldly disderstanding, set the fancy loose, and send it position to a spiritually-minded prayer, is a pogadding among low and mean objects. They sitive anomaly. A habit is more powerful than not only run away with the time which should an act, and a previously indulged temper during

the day will not, it is to be feared, be fully coun- | barely passing through the mind will make lıtteracted by the exercise of a few minutes devotion at night.

Prayer is designed for a perpetual renovation of the motives to virtue; if therefore the cause is not followed by its consequence, a consequence inevitable but for the impediments we bring to it, we rob our nature of its highest privilege, and run the danger of incurring a penalty where we are looking for a blessing.

That the habitual teudency of the life should be the preparation for the stated prayer, is naturally suggested to us by our blessed Redeemer in his sermon on the Mount. He announced the precepts of holiness, and their corresponding beatitudes; he gave the spiritual exposition of the law, the direction for alms-giving, the exhortation to love our enemies, nay the essence and spirit of the whole Decalogue, previous to his delivering his own divine prayer as a pattern for ours. Let us learn from this that the preparation of prayer is therefore to live in all those pursuits which we may safely beg of God to bless, and in a conflict with all those temptations into which we pray not to be led.

tle impression on it. We must arrest it, constrain it to remain with us, expand, amplify, and as it were, take it to pieces. It must be distinctly unfolded, and carefully examined, or it will leave no precise idea: it must be fixed and incorporated, or it will produce no practical ef fect. We must not dismiss it till it has left some trace on the mind, till it has made some impression on the heart.

On the other hand, if we give the reins to a loose ungoverned fancy, at other times; if we abandon our minds to frivolous thoughts; if we fill them with corrupt images; if we cherish sensual ideas during the rest of the day, can they expect that none of these images will intrude, that none of these impressions will be revived, but that the temple into which foul things' have been invited, will be cleansed at a given moment; that worldly thoughts will re cede and give place at once to pure and holy thoughts? Will that Spirit grieved by impurity, or resisted by levity, return with his warm beams and cheering influences, to the contaminated mansion from which he has been driven out? Is it wonderful if finding no entrance in.

If God be the centre to which our hearts are tending, every line in our lives must meet into a heart filled with vanity he should withdraw him. With this point in view there will be a harmony between our prayers and our practice, a consistency between devotion and conduct, which will make every part turn to this one end, hear upon this one point. For the beauty of the Christian scheme consists not in parts (how. ever good in themselves) which tend to separate views, and lead to different ends; but it arises from its being one entire, uniform, connected plan, compacted of that which every joint, supplieth,' and of which all the parts terminate in this one grand ultimate point.

The design of prayer therefore as we before observed, is not merely to make us devout while we are engaged in it, but that its odour may be diffused through all the intermediate spaces of the day, enter into all its occupations, duties and tempers. Nor must its results be partial, or limited to easy and pleasant duties, but extend to such as are less alluring. When we pray, for instance, for our enemies, the prayer must be rendered practical, must be made a means of softening our spirit, and cooling our resentment toward them. If we deserve their enmity, the true spirit of prayer will put us upon endeavouring to cure the fault which has excited it. If we do not deserve it, it will put us on striving for a placable temper, and we shall endeavour not to let slip so favourable an occasion of cultivating it. There is no such softener of animosity, no such soother of resentment, no such allayer of hatred, as sincere, cordial prayer.

himself? We cannot, in retiring into our closets, change our natures as we do our clothes. The disposition we carry thither will be likely to remain with us. We have no right to expect that a new temper will meet us at the door. We can only hope that the spirit we bring thither will be cherished and improved. It is not easy, rather it is not possible, to graft genuine devotion on a life of an opposite tendency; nor can we delight ourselves regularly for a few stated moments, in that God whom we have not been serving during the day. We may indeed to quiet our conscience, take up the employment of prayer, but cannot take up the state of mind which will make the employment beneficial to ourselves, or the prayer acceptable to God, if all the previous day we have been careless of ourselves, and unnindful of our Maker. They will not pray differently from the rest of the world, who do not live differently.

What a contradiction is it to lament the weak. ness, the misery, and the corruption of our nature, in our devotions, and then to rush into a life, though not perhaps of vice, yet of indul gence, calculated to increase that weakness, to inflame those corruptions, and to lead to that misery! There is either no meaning to our prayers, or no sense in our conduct. In the one we mock God, in the other we deceive ourselves.

Will not he who keeps up an habitual intercourse with his Maker, who is vigilant in thought, self-denying in action, who strives to It is obvious, that the precept to pray without keep his heart from wrong desires, his mind ceasing can never mean to enjoin a continual from vain imaginations, and his lips from idle course of actual prayer. But while it more di- words, bring a more prepared spirit, a more rectly enjoins us to embrace all proper occasions collected mind, be more engaged, more peneof performing this sacred duty, or rather of trated, more present to the occasion? Will he claiming this valuable privilege, so it plainly not feel more delight in this devout exercise, implies that we should try to keep up constantly reap more benefit from it, than he who lives at that sense of the divine presence which shall random, prays from custom, and who, though maintain the disposition. In order to this, we he dares not intermit the form, is a stranger to should inure our minds to reflection; we should its spirit? O God my heart is ready,' cannot be encourage serious thoughts. A good thought|lawfully uttered by him who is no more prepared.

not by our conduct furnish arguments against ourselves; for, as if the difficulty were not great enough in itself, we are continually heaping up mountains in our way, by indulging in such pursuits and passions, as make a small labour an insurmountable one.

But we may often judge better of our state by the result, than by the act of prayer. Our very defects, our coldness, deadness, wanderings, may leave more contrition on the soul than the happiest turn of thought. The feeling of our wants, the confession of our sins, the acknowledgment of our dependence, the renunciation of ourselves, the supplication for mercy, the application to the fountain opened for sin,' the cordial entreaty for the aid of the Spirit, the relinquishment of our own will, resolutions of better obedience,

We speak not here to the self-sufficient formalist, or the careless profligate. Among those whom we now take the liberty to address, are to be found, especially in the higher class of females, the amiable and the interesting, and in many respects the virtuous and correct; characters so engaging, so evidently made for better things, so capable of reaching high degrees of excellence, so formed to give the tone to Christian practice, as well as to fashion; so calculated to give a beautiful impression on that religion which they profess without sufficiently adoring; which they believe without fairly exemplifying; that we cannot forbear taking a tender interest in their welfare; we cannot forbear breathing a fervent prayer that they may yet reach the elevation for which they were intended; that they may hold out a uniform and consistent pat-petitions that these resolutions may be directed tern, of 'whatsoever things are pure, honest, just, lovely, and of good report!' This the Apostle goes on to intimate can only be done by THINKING ON THESE THINGS. Things can only influence our practice as they engage our attention. Would not then a confirmed habit of serious thought tend to correct that inconsideration, which we are willing to hope, more than want of principle, lies at the bottom of the inconsistency we are lamenting.

and sanctified; these are the subjects in which the suppliant should be engaged, by which his thoughts should be absorbed. Can they be so absorbed, if many of the intervening hours are passed in pursuits of a totally different complexion; pursuits which raise the passions which we are seeking to allay? Will the cherished vanities go at our bidding? Will the required dispositions come at our calling? Do we find our tempers so obedient, our passions so obsequious If, as is generally allowed, the great difficulty in the other concerns of life? If not, what reaof our spiritual life is to make the future pre- son have we to expect their obsequiousness in We should therefore endominate over the present, do we not by the this grand concern. conduct we are regretting, aggravate what it is deavour to believe as we pray, to think as we in our power to diminish? Miscalculation of pray, to feel as we pray, and to act as we pray. the relative value of things is one of the greatest Prayer must not be a solitary, independent exerrors of our moral life. We estimate them inercise; but an exercise interwoven with an inverse proportion to their value, as well as to their duration : we lavish earnest and durable thoughts on things so trifling, that they deserve little regard, so brief, that they perish with the using,' while we bestow only slight attention on things of infinite worth, only transient thoughts on things of eternal duration.

Those who are so far conscientious as not to intermit a regular course of devotion, and who yet allow themselves at the same time to go on in a course of amusements, which excite a directly opposite spirit, are inconceivably augmenting their own difficulties.-They are eager. ly heaping up fuel in the day, on the fire which they intend to extinguish in the evening; they are voluntarily adding to the temptations, against which they mean to request grace to struggle. To acknowledge at the same time, that we find it hard to serve God as we ought, and yet to be systematically indulging habits, which must naturally increase the difficulty, makes our characters almost ridiculous, while it renders our duty almost impracticable.

While we make our way more difficult by those very indulgences with which we think to cheer and refresh it, the determined Christian becomes his own pioneer: he makes his path easy by voluntarily clearing it of the obstacles which impede his progress.

These habitual indulgences seem a contradiction to that obvious law, that one virtue always involves another; for we cannot labour after any grace, that of prayer for instance, without resisting whatever is opposite to it. If then we lament, that it is so hard to serve God, let us |

many, and inseparably connected with that golden chain of Christian duties, of which, when so connected, it forms one of the most important links.

Business however must have its period as well as devotion. We were sent into this world to act as well as to pray; active duties must be performed as well as devout exercises. Even relaxation must have its interval, only let us be careful that the indulgence of the one do not destroy the effect of the other; that our pleasures do not encroach on the time or deaden the spirit of our devotions: let us be careful that our cares, occupations, and amusements may be always such that we may not be afraid to implore the divine blessing on them; this is the criterion of their safety and of our duty. Let us endeavour that in each, in all, one continually growing sentiment and feeling, of loving, serving, and pleasing God, maintain its predo. minant station in the heart.

An additional reason why we should live in the perpetual use of prayer, seems to be, that our blessed Redeemer after having given both the example and the command, while on earth, condescends still to be our unceasing intercessor in heaven. Can we ever cease petitioning for ourselves, when we believe that he never ceases interceding for us?

If we are so unhappy as now to find little pleasure in this holy exercise, that however is so far from being a reason for discontinuing it, that it affords the strongest argument for perseverance. That which was at first a form, will become a pleasure; that which was a burden

will become a privilege; that which we impose upon ourselves as a medicine, will become necessary as an aliment, and desirable as a gratification. That which is now short and superficial, will become copious and solid. The chariot wheel is warmed by its own motion. Use will make that easy which was at first painful. That which is once become easy will soon be rendered pleasant; instead of repining at the performance, we shall be unhappy at the omission. When a man recovering from sickness attempts to walk, he does not discontinue the exercise because he feels himself weak, nor even because the effort is painful. He rather redou- | bles his exertion. It is from his perseverance that he looks for strength. An additional turn every day diminishes his repugnance, augments his vigour, improves his spirits. That effort which was submitted to because it was salutary, is continued because the feeling of renovated strength renders it delightful.

CHAP. VII.

The Love of God.

OUR love to God arises out of want. God's love to us out of fulness. Our indigence draws us to that power which can relieve, and to that goodness which can bless us. His overflowing love delights to make us partakers of the bounties he graciously imparts, not only in the gifts of his Providence, but in the richer communications of his grace. We can only be said to love God when we endeavour to glorify him, when we desire a participation of his nature, when we study to imitate his perfections.

is therefore no less our highest happiness, than our most bounden duty. Love makes all labour light. We serve with alacrity, where we love with cordiality.

When the heart is devoted to an object, we require not to be perpetually reminded of our obligations to obey him; they present themselves spontaneously, we fulfil them readily, I had almost said, involuntarily; we think not so much of the service as of the object. The principle which suggests the work inspires the pleasure; to neglect it would be an injury to our feelings. The performance is the gratification. omission is not more a pain to the conscience, than a wound to the affections. The implantation of this vital root perpetuates virtuous practice, and secures internal peace.

The

Though we cannot be always thinking of God, we may be always employed in his service. There must be intervals of our communion with him, but there must be no intermission of our attachment to him. The tender father who labours for his children, does not always employ his thoughts about them; he cannot be always conversing with them, or concerning them, yet he is always engaged in promoting their interests. His affection for them is an inwoven principle, of which he gives the most unequivocal evidence, by the assiduousness of his application in their service.

'Thou shouldst love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,' is the primary law of our religion. Yet how apt are we to complain that we cannot love God, that we cannot maintain a devout intercourse with him. But would God, who is all justice, have commanded that of which he knew we were incapable? Would he who is all mercy have made our eternal happiness to depend on something which he knew was out of our power to perform, capriciously disqualifying us for the duty he had prescribed? Would he have given the exhortation, and withheld the capacity? This would be to charge Omniscience with folly, and infinite goodness with injustice;—no, when he made duty and happiness inseparable, he neither made our duty impracticable, nor our hap

We are sometimes inclined to suspect the love of God to us. We are too little suspicious of our want of love to him. Yet if we examine the case by evidence, as we should examine any common question, what real instances can we produce of our love to him? What imaginable instance can we not produce of his love to us? If neglect, forgetfulness, ingratitude, disobedi-piness unattainable. But we are continually ence, coldness in our affections, deadness in our duty, be evidences of our love to him, such evidences, but such only, we can abundantly allege. If life and all the countless catalogue of mercies that make life pleasant, be proofs of his love to us, these he has given us in hand; if life eternal, if blessedness that knows no measure and no end, be proofs of love, these he has given us in promise to the Christian we had almost said, he has given them in possession.

It must be an irksome thing to serve a master whom we do not love; a master whom we are compelled to obey, though we think his requisitions hard, and his commands unreasonable; under whose eye we know that we continually live, though his presence is not only undelightful but formidable.

Now every Christian must obey God whether he love him or not; he must act always in his sight, whether he delight him or not; and to a heart of any feeling, to a spirit of any liberality, nothing is so grating as constrained obedience. To love God, to serve him because we love him,

flying to false refuges, clinging to false holds, resting on false supports; as they are uncertain they disappoint us, as they are weak they fail us; but as they are numerous, when one fails another presents itself. Till they slip from under us, we never suspect how much we rested upon them. Life glides away in a perpetual succession of these false dependences and successive privations.

There is, as we have elsewhere observed, a striking analogy between the natural and spiritual life; the weakness and helplessness of the Christian resemble those of the infant; neither of them becomes strong, vigorous, and full grown at once, but through a long and often painful course. This keeps up a sense of dependance, and accustoms us to lean on the hand which fosters us. There is in both conditions, an imperceptible chain of depending events, by which we are carried on insensibly to the vigour of maturity. The operation which is not always obvious, is always progressive. By attempting to walk alone we discover our weakness, the ex