Pray often; for prayer is a shield for the soul, a sacrifice to God,
and a scourge for Satan.
Look yonder! Ah, methinks mine eyes do see Clouds edged with silver,
as fine garments be; They look as if they saw the golden face That
makes black clouds most beautiful with grace.
Unto the saints' sweet incense of their prayer, These smoky curled
clouds I do compare; For as these clouds seem edged or laced with
gold, Their prayers return with blessings manifold.
Prayer is as the pitcher that fetcheth water from the brook,
therewith to water the herbs: break the pitcher and it will fetch no
water, and for want of water the garden withers.
The godly have found all other places, the throne of grace excepted,
empty, and places that hold no water. They have been at mount Sinai
for help, but could find nothing there but fire and darkness, but
thunder and lightning, but earthquakes and trembling, and a voice of
killing words.
They have sought for grace by their own performances; but, alas,
they have yielded them nothing but wind and confusion; not a
performance, not a duty, not an act in any part of religious
worship, but they, looking upon it in the glass of the Lord, do find
it specked and defective.
They have sought for grace by their resolutions, their vows, their
purposes, and the like; but alas, they all do as the other, discover
that they have been very imperfectly managed, and so are such as can
by no means help them to grace.
They have gone to their tears, their sorrow, and repentance, if
perhaps they might find some help there; but all has fled away like
the early dew.
They have gone to God as the great Creator, and have beheld how
wonderful his works have been; they have looked to the heavens
above, to the earth beneath, and to all their ornaments; but neither
have these, nor what is of them, yielded grace to those that had
sensible want thereof.
They have gone with these pitchers to their fountains, and have
returned empty and ashamed; they found no water, no river of water
of life.
Paul, not finding it in the law, despairs to find it in any thing
else below, but presently betakes himself to look for it where he
had not yet found it: he looked for it by Jesus Christ, who is the
throne of grace, where he found it, and rejoiced in hope of the
glory of God.
O, when a God of grace is upon a throne of grace, and a poor sinner
stands by and begs for grace, and that in the name of a gracious
Christ, in and by the help of the Spirit of grace, can it be
otherwise but such a sinner must obtain mercy and grace to help in
time of need?
All the sorrow that is mixed with our Christianity proceeds, as the
procuring cause, from ourselves, not from the throne of grace; for
that is the place where our tears are wiped away, and also where we
hang up our crutches: the streams thereof are pure and clear, not
muddy nor frozen, but warm and delightful, and they make glad the
city of God.