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No. 32, Vol. LXX.

Thursday, August 6, 1908.

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THE GENUINE PRAYER.

"THE Lord said to Ananias, Arise and go into the street which is called Straight, and inquire in the house of Judas for one Saul, of Tarsus; for, behold he prayeth!"Acts 9: 11.

What was there remarkable in this fact? Paul had often prayed before, no doubt, for all religious men, Jews and heathen, prayed; and Paul was zealous in his religion as a Jew. But perhaps, though he had often before meant to pray, had gone through the form of prayer, now, for the first time in his life he really prayed in spirit and truth. Let me illustrate this.

There are moments of sudden illumination, in which we see in a new light and feel in another way what we have all our life been hearing and saying. For the first time we come in contact with reality. We have been using words: now we see the very things we have been talking about.

A man living far inland comes to see the ocean for the first time. He has heard about it always, and thinks he knows well enough what it is. But the report is one thing, the reality another. He stands, perhaps, on the rocks at Nahant or Cape Ann. He sees the immense surges withdrawn and uplifted, sees them rolling in in long green masses, and then breaking in fury and foam, and rushing up in a thousand forms upon the black rocks. The rocks disappear in the tumultuous agitation. Then the water falls away, to return again directly in a new uproar of passionate struggle.

He has heard of the ocean with the hearing of the ear; now his eye sees it, and it is another thing.

He who, for the first time, sees a mountain or sees Niagara, is lifted into another sphere. These grand and lovely forms take possession of his soul. The mountain, in its solemn majesty, exalts his inmost being. He communes with God in the universe. His lips are mute: he does not pray in words, but the sense of God's greatness overflows his mind. The soul rises to heaven, and forgets earth. This is a true prayer; and we may say of one, in such an hour, "Behold, he prayeth!"

The essential thing in prayer is to feel the presence of the Infinite and Unseen. Whatever takes us up there, out of our finite, earthly thoughts, makes us pray. To say our prayers is not to pray. Prayer is not the act of the lips, but the condition of the soul.

I suppose that Saul had prayed regularly, all his life, at the regular hours of prayer-the sixth, ninth, twelfth. He had devoted a large portion of his time to saying his prayers, according to the approved Pharisaic ritual. But at last the hour came when his whole soul was moved to its centre by the sight of the heavenly face of Jesus. He knew then that his past life had been a mistake. He had been zealous for all legal forms and ceremonies, devoted to the worship of the Temple. He had fasted twice in a week. He had been exceedingly zealous for the traditions of his fathers, a Hebrew of the Hebrews. He thought himself a very religious man: others thought so, too. When he stood by, and looked into the face of Stephen, overflowing with divine peace, he knew that he was somehow wrong. But pride and passion and habit made him go on. He continued to persecute the Christians, until, on his way to Damascus, the great light shone around him, and the sweet voice spoke to his soul; and now he arose another man, and began to pray, for the first time in his life, the prayer of a little child.

The essential thing in prayer is that it shall be real-not a form, a decency, a ceremony, but a genuine outflow of the finite heart to the infinite heart. For this purpose the genuine prayer must be the prayer of faith, not the prayer of form.

"When ye pray," said Jesus, "use no vain repetitions, as the heathen do; for they think they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not ye like to them, for your father knoweth what things ye have need of before ye ask him."

"Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,

Uttered or unexpressed;

The motion of a hidden fire

Which trembles in the breast."

It is the ascent of the soul to God; it is "the flight of one alone to the Only One."

In the psalms there is this very striking petition, "Unite my heart to fear thy name." The soul needs the unity which comes from devotion to something infinite, perfect, the ideal beauty and

goodness of things. This unites the heart and life, and prevents it from being wasted and distracted in the endless variety of nature. "Those who come to God," says the epistle to the Hebrews, "must believe that he is, and that he is the rewarder of those who diligently seek him." These are the two great elements of prayer-"to believe that God is, and that he blesses those who diligently seek him."

We cannot pray unless we have something outside of ourselves to pray about. We cannot pray for the sake of praying. We can only pray rightly when we go out of ourselves, and pray in order to work for God and man; and we can only work rightly when we gain strength from God with which to do all things. To "pray without ceasing" does not mean to repeat over and over again the words of prayer; but it means to live and act in the spirit of prayer, the spirit of trust and hope and love. It means to have the sense of God's presence and love around us at all times, so that we can turn to Him at any moment and ask His help. It is to live in this spirit of faith, and so to be able to walk in the spirit of faithfulness.

Now, the more thoroughly we realize the presence of God, the more natural prayer becomes. A child whose father is absent, or who is absent from his father, writes letters to him at regular intervals, often a little stiff and formal. He goes through the usual formulas at the beginning and end of his letter, gives reasons for not having written before, apologizes for his remissness, describes his health and that of the family, mentions the events that have occurred in the neighborhood; and, not knowing exactly what else to say, stops short, half-way down the second page, professing to be in great haste, and to be obliged to finish his letter suddenly on account of the closing of the mail. Now, many prayers are like these they are letters from a child to a distant Father. They begin with formal expressions of adoration and reverence, just as children, a hundred years ago, began all their letters to their father, "Respected Sir." They return formal thanks for the gifts of life, but not for those which they really enjoy the most. They do not usually thank God when they have had a delightful conversation, when they have read an interesting book, when they have become acquainted with a good, great man, when they have heard of a noble action, when they have been enabled to do a good action themselves. We do not usually thank God for these things for friendship, love, the coming of summer days or a beautiful snow-storm in winter; for those best things which are nearest to us, and lie close about our feet. Our prayers are so formal that real life does not often get into them. The real prayer is the prayer of faith and love, which is like the child's talk to his father and mother when he is with them, when he tells them every little thing in his little heart, when he runs up to his mother and kisses her with no particular reason for doing it, when he finds

enough to say to her, and prattles all the morning of his play-room politics and the great affairs between him and his play-fellows. And his mother listens, well pleased, to all this garrulity, and likes it, I think, much better than the formal letter written from a sense of duty, which contains everything but that for which he really cares. So I think God is not so well pleased with our stiff prayers, in which we give Him formal thanks and formal reverence, as when we come to feel His presence near us all day, and talk to Him in our hearts of what we feel and think and do, trusting Him, and going to Him as the child trusts its mother's love.

It often may happen that the incoherent and troubled prayer of those low down in life may have more reality about it than that of the learned pulit, which flows glibly from lips so accustomed to pray that it has become a piece of routine. I used to hear, in former days, negro prayers which often had this profound sincerity about them, so that they brought tears and smiles together while we listened to them. Thus I remember that an old negro prayed in 1862, at a freedmen's meeting in Washington: "O Lord, bless de Union army: be thou their bulwarks and ditches. O Lord, as thou didst hear our prayer when we were down in de Souf country, as we held de plow and de hoe in de hot sun, so hear our prayer now for de Union army. Guard 'em on de right and de leff and in de rear: don't leave 'em alone."

And do you remember the story which Miss Botume told us of her old colored friend, who had just succeeded in building a little cabin to shelter his family, when it was burned down? All he said, as he looked in the ruin of his hopes, was, "If it is Him will, it ought to be my pleasure; and it shall be."

Blessed are those who have learned by experience that there is always an answer to every sincere prayer,--an answer which comes, by some divine law, not necessarily in outward events, but in inward strength, knowledge and peace. Blessed are those to whom this vast universe is not a dreary desert, but the house of a heavenly Father, in which are many mansions, suitable to all the needs of all His children. Blessed are those who, while they believe in universal, unchanging law, see in this majestic order of nature an endless adaptation to the wants of all, and whose hearts tend upward to God by a steady outflow of trust, hope and love. This is the prayer of faith, which is never without an answer.

When one who has all his life prayed only the prayer of form, at last opens his real soul to God, the spirits in heaven may say to each other with joy, "Behold, he prayeth!" When the worldly man, hardened in outward routine, is moved by some deep experience to pray, there may be joy in the presence of the angels of God. When the good man who has tried hard to do his duty, but only in his own strength, feels the need of some higher help, it may add something even to the joy of heaven. And this prayer may be answered as Paul's prayer was answered. The Lord answered