gathered from North and South, and East and West, will be "a multitude
that no man can number." (Rev. vii. 9.) The song of victory that will
burst from their mouths, when their redemption is at length complete,
will be a glorious song indeed. It will be far above the noise of many
waters, and of mighty thunders. But there will be no discord in that
song. They that sing will sing with one heart as well as one voice.
Their experience will be one and the same. All will have believed. All
will have been washed in the blood of Christ. All will have been born
again. All will have prayed. Yes, we must pray on earth, or we shall
never praise in heaven. We must go through the school of prayer, or we
shall never be fit for the holiday of praise. In short, to be prayerless
is to be without God,--without Christ,--without grace,--without
hope,--and without heaven. It is to be in the road to hell.
II. In the second place, _a habit of prayer is one of the surest marks
of a true Christian_.
All the children of God on earth are alike in this respect. From the
moment there is any life and reality about their religion, they pray.
Just as the first sign of life in an infant when born into the world, is
the act of breathing, so the first act of men and women when they are
born again, is _praying_.
This is one of the common marks of all the elect of God: "They cry unto
Him day and night." (Luke xviii. 1.) The Holy Spirit, who makes them new
creatures, works in them the feeling of adoption, and makes them cry,
"Abba, Father." (Rom. viii. 15.) The Lord Jesus, when He quickens them,
gives them a voice and a tongue, and says to them, "Be dumb no more."
God has no dumb children. It is as much a part of their new nature to
pray, as it is of a child to cry. They see their need of mercy and
grace. They feel their emptiness and weakness. They cannot do otherwise
than they do. They _must_ pray.
I have looked carefully over the lives of God's saints in the Bible. I
cannot find one of whose history much is told us, from Genesis to
Revelation, who was not a man of prayer. I find it mentioned as a
characteristic of the godly, that "they call on the Father," that "they
call on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ." I find it recorded as a
characteristic of the wicked, that "they call not upon the Lord." (1
Peter i. 17; 1 Cor. i. 2; Psalm xiv. 4.)
I have read the lives of many eminent Christians who have been on earth
since the Bible days. Some of them, I see, were rich, and some poor.
Some were learned, and some unlearned. Some of them were Episcopalians,
some Presbyterians, some Baptists, some Independents. Some were
Calvinists, and some Arminians. Some have loved to use a liturgy, and
some to use none. But one thing, I see, they all had in common. They
have all been _men of prayer_.
I study the reports of Missionary Societies in our own times. I see with
joy that heathen men and women are receiving the Gospel in various parts
of the globe. There are conversions in Africa, in New Zealand, in
Hindostan, in America. The people converted are naturally unlike one
another in every respect. But one striking thing I observe at all the
Missionary stations. The converted people _always pray_.
I do not deny that a man may pray without heart, and without sincerity.
I do not for a moment pretend to say that the mere fact of a person
praying proves everything about his soul. As in every other part of
religion, so also in this, there is plenty of deception and hypocrisy.
But this I do say,--that not praying is a clear proof that a man is not
yet a true Christian. He cannot really feel his sins. He cannot love
God. He cannot feel himself a debtor to Christ. He cannot long after
holiness. He cannot desire heaven. He has yet to be born again. He has
yet to be made a new creature. He may boast confidently of election,
grace, faith, hope, and knowledge, and deceive ignorant people. But you
may rest assured it is all vain talk _if he does not pray_.
And I say furthermore, that of all the evidences of real work of the
Spirit, a habit of hearty private prayer is one of the most satisfactory
that can be named. A man may preach from false motives. A man may write
books, and make fine speeches, and seem diligent in good works, and yet
be a Judas Iscariot. But a man seldom goes into his closet, and pours
out his soul before God in secret, unless he is in earnest. The Lord
Himself has set His stamp on prayer as the best proof of a true
conversion. When He, sent Ananias to Saul in Damascus, He gave him no
other evidence of his change of heart than this,--"_Behold, he
prayeth_." (Acts ix. 11.)
I know that much may go on in a man's mind before he is brought to pray.
He may have many convictions, desires, wishes, feelings, intentions,
resolutions, hopes, and fears. But all these things are very uncertain
evidences. They are to be found in ungodly people, and often come to
nothing. In many a case they are not more lasting than "the morning
cloud, and the dew that goeth away." (Hos. vi. 4.) A real hearty prayer,
flowing from a broken and contrite spirit, is worth all these things put
together.
I know that the elect of God are chosen to salvation from all eternity.
I do not forget that the Holy Spirit, who calls them in due time, in
many instances leads them by very slow degrees to acquaintance with
Christ. But the eye of man can only judge by what it sees. I cannot
call any one justified until he believes. I dare not say that any one
believes until he prays. I cannot understand a dumb faith. The first act
of faith will be to speak to God. Faith is to the soul what life is to
the body. Prayer is to faith what breath is to life. How a man can live
and not breathe is past my comprehension, and how a man can believe and
not pray is past my comprehension too.
Let no one be surprised if he hears ministers of the Gospel dwelling
much on the importance of prayer. This is the point we want to bring you
to,--we want to know that you pray. Your views of doctrine may be
correct. Your love of Protestantism may be warm and unmistakeable. But
still this may be nothing more than head knowledge and party spirit. The
great point is this,--whether you can speak _to_ God as well as speak
_about_ God.
III. In the third place, _there is no duty in religion so neglected as
private prayer_.
We live in days of abounding religious profession. There are more places
of public worship now than there ever were before. There are more
persons attending them than there ever have been since England was a
nation. And yet in spite of all this public religion, I believe there is
a vast neglect of private prayer.
I should not have said so a few years ago. I once thought, in my
ignorance, that most people said their prayers, and many people prayed.
I have lived to think differently. I have come to the conclusion that
the great majority of professing Christians do not pray at all.
I know this sounds very shocking, and will startle many. But I am
satisfied that prayer is just one of those things which is thought a
"matter of course," and, like many matters of course, is shamefully
neglected. It is "everybody's business;" and, as it often happens in
such cases, it is a business carried on by very few. It is one of those
private transactions between God and our souls which no eye sees, and
therefore one which there is every temptation to pass over and leave
undone.
I believe that thousands _never say a word of prayer at all_. They eat;
they drink; they sleep; they rise; they go forth to their labour; they
return to their homes; they breathe God's air; they see God's sun; they
walk on God's earth; they enjoy God's mercies; they have dying bodies;
they have judgment and eternity before them. But they _never speak to
God_! They live like the beasts that perish; they behave like creatures
without souls; they have not a word to say to Him in whose hand are
their life, and breath, and all things, and from whose mouth they must
one day receive their everlasting sentence. How dreadful this seems! But
if the secrets of men were only known, how common!
I believe there are tens of thousands _whose prayers are nothing but a
mere form_,--a set of words repeated by rote, without a thought about
their meaning. Some say over a few hasty sentences picked up in the
nursery when they were children. Some content themselves with repeating
the Belief, forgetting that there is not a request in it. Some add the
Lord's Prayer, but without the slightest desire that its solemn
petitions may be granted. Some among the poor, even at this day, repeat
the old popish lines:--
"Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
Bless the bed that I lie on."
Many, even of those who use good forms, mutter their prayers over after
they have got into bed, or scramble over them while they wash or dress
in the morning. Men may think what they please, but they may depend that
in the sight of God _this is not praying_. Words said without heart are
as utterly useless to our souls as the drum-beating of the poor heathen
before their idols. Where there is _no heart_, there may be lip-work
and tongue-work, but there is nothing that God listens to,--there is _no
prayer_. Saul, I have no doubt, said many a long prayer before the Lord
met him on the way to Damascus. But it was not till his heart was broken
that the Lord said, "He prayeth."
Does this surprise any reader? Listen to me and I will show you that I
am not speaking as I do without reason. Do you think that my assertions
are extravagant and unwarrantable? Give me your attention, and I will
soon show you that I am only telling you the truth.
Have you forgotten that it is _not natural_ to any one to pray? The
carnal mind is enmity against God. The desire of man's heart is to get
far away from God, and to have nothing to do with Him. His feeling
toward Him is not love but fear. Why then should a man pray when he has
no real sense of sin, no real feeling of spiritual wants,--no thorough
belief in unseen things,--no desire after holiness and heaven? Of all
these things the vast majority of men know and feel nothing. The
multitude walk in the broad way. I cannot forget this. Therefore I say
boldly, I believe that few pray.
Have you forgotten that it is _not fashionable_ to pray? It is just one
of the things that many would be rather ashamed to own. There are
hundreds who would sooner storm a breach, or lead a forlorn hope, than
confess publicly that they make a habit of prayer. There are thousands
who, if obliged by chance to sleep in the same room with a stranger,
would lie down in bed without a prayer. To ride well, to shoot well, to
dress well, to go to balls, and concerts, and theatres, to be thought
clever and agreeable,--all this is fashionable, but not to pray. I
cannot forget this. I cannot think a habit is common which so many seem
ashamed to own. I believe that few pray.
Have you forgotten _the lives that many live_? Can we really suppose
that people are praying against sin night and day, when we see them
plunging right into it? Can we suppose they pray against the world, when
they are entirely absorbed and taken up with its pursuits? Can we think
they really ask God for grace to serve Him, when they do not show the
slightest desire to serve Him at all? Oh, no! It is plain as daylight
that the great majority of men either ask nothing of God, or _do not
mean what they say_ when they do ask,--which is just the same thing.
Praying and sinning will never live together in the same heart. Prayer
will consume sin, or sin will choke prayer. I cannot forget this. I look
at men's lives. I believe that few pray.
Have you forgotten _the deaths that many die_? How many, when they draw
near death, seem entirely strangers to God. Not only are they sadly
ignorant of His Gospel, but sadly wanting in the power of speaking to
Him. There is a terrible awkwardness, and shyness, and newness, and
rawness, in their endeavours to approach Him. They seem to be taking up
a fresh thing. They appear as if they wanted an introduction to God, and
as if they had never talked with Him before. I remember having heard of
a lady who was anxious to have a minister to visit her in her last
illness. She desired that he would pray with her. He asked her what he
should pray for. She did not know and could not tell. She was utterly
unable to name any one thing which she wished him to ask God for her
soul. All she seemed to want was the form of a minister's prayers. I can
quite understand this. Death-beds are great revealers of secrets. I
cannot forget what I have seen of sick and dying people. This also leads
me to believe that few pray.
IV. In the fourth place, _prayer is that act in religion to which there
is the greatest encouragement_.
There is everything on God's part to make prayer easy, if men will only
attempt it. "All things are ready" on His side. (Luke xiv. 17.) Every
objection is anticipated. Every difficulty is provided for. The crooked
places are made straight, and the rough places are made smooth. There is
no excuse left for the prayerless man.
There is _a way_ by which any man, however sinful and unworthy, may draw
near to God the Father. Jesus Christ has opened that way by the
sacrifice He made for us upon the cross. The holiness and justice of God
need not frighten sinners and keep them back. Only let them cry to God
in the name of Jesus,--only let them plead the atoning blood of
Jesus,--and they shall find God upon a throne of grace, willing and
ready to hear. The name of Jesus is a never-failing passport to our
prayers. In that name a man may draw near to God with boldness, and ask
with confidence. God has engaged to hear him. Think of this. Is not this
encouragement?
There is _an advocate_ and intercessor always waiting to present the
prayers of those who will employ Him. That advocate is Jesus Christ. He
mingles our prayers with the incense of His own almighty intercession.
So mingled they go up as a sweet savour before the throne of God. Poor
as they are in themselves, they are mighty and powerful in the hand of
our High Priest and elder brother. The bank-note without a signature at
the bottom is nothing but a worthless piece of paper. A few strokes of a
pen confer on it all its value. The prayer of a poor child of Adam is a
feeble thing in itself, but once endorsed by the hand of the Lord Jesus
it availeth much. There was an officer in the city of Rome who was
appointed to have his doors always open, in order to receive any Roman
citizen who applied to him for help. Just so the ear of the Lord Jesus
is ever open to the cry of all who want mercy and grace. It is His
office to help them. Their prayer is His delight. Think of this. Is not
this encouragement?
There is _the Holy Spirit_ ever ready to help our infirmities in prayer.
It is one part of His special office to assist us in our endeavours to
speak to God. We need not be cast down and distressed by the fear of not
knowing what to say. The Spirit will give us words if we will only seek
His aid. He will supply us with "thoughts that breathe and words that
burn." The prayers of the Lord's people are the inspiration of the
Lord's Spirit,--the work of the Holy Ghost who dwells within them as the
Spirit of grace and supplications. Surely the Lord's people may well
hope to be heard. It is not they merely that pray, but the Holy Ghost
pleading in them. (Rom. viii. 26.) Think of this. Is not this
encouragement?
There are exceeding great and precious _promises_ to those who pray.
What did the Lord Jesus mean when He spoke such words as these, "Ask,
and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall
be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that
seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened." (Matt.
vii. 7, 8.) "All things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer believing, ye
shall receive." (Matt. xxi. 22.) "Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name,
that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall
ask any thing in my name, I will do it." (John xiv. 13, 14.) What did
the Lord mean when He spoke the parables of the friend at midnight and
the importunate widow? (Luke xi. 5, and xviii. 1.) Think over these
passages. If this is not encouragement to pray, words have no meaning at
all.
There are wonderful _examples_ in Scripture of the power of prayer.
Nothing seems to be too great, too hard, or too difficult for prayer to
do. It has obtained things that seemed impossible and out of reach. It
has won victories over fire, air, earth, and water. Prayer opened the
Red Sea. Prayer brought water from the rock and bread from heaven.
Prayer made the sun stand still. Prayer brought fire from the sky on
Elijah's sacrifice. Prayer turned the counsel of Ahithophel into
foolishness. Prayer overthrew the army of Sennacherib. Well might Mary,
Queen of Scots, say, "I fear John Knox's prayers more than an army of
ten thousand men." Prayer has healed the sick. Prayer has raised the
dead. Prayer has procured the conversion of souls. "The child of many
prayers," said an old Christian to Augustine's mother, "shall never
perish." Prayer, pains, and faith can do anything. Nothing seems
impossible when a man has the Spirit of adoption. "Let me alone," is the
remarkable saying of God to Moses, when Moses was about to intercede for
the children of Israel. (Exod. xxxii. 10.) The Chaldee version has it
"Leave off praying." So long as Abraham asked mercy for Sodom, the Lord
went on giving. He never ceased to give till Abraham ceased to pray.
Think of this. Is not this encouragement?
What more can a man want to lead him to take any step in religion than
the things I have just told him about prayer? What more could be done to
make the path to the mercy-seat easy, and to remove all occasions of
stumbling from the sinner's way? Surely if the devils in hell had such a
door set open before them they would leap for gladness, and make the
very pit ring with joy.
But where will the man hide his head at last who neglects such glorious
encouragements? What can be possibly said for the man who after all dies
without prayer? God forbid that any reader of this paper should be that
man.
V. In the fifth place, _diligence in prayer is the secret of eminent
holiness_.
Without controversy there is a vast difference among true Christians.
There is an immense interval between the foremost and the hindermost in
the army of God.
They are all fighting the same good fight;--but how much more valiantly
some fight than others! They are all doing the Lord's work;--but how
much more some do than others! They are all light in the Lord;--but how
much more brightly some shine than others! They are all running the same
race;--but how much faster some get on than others! They all love the
same Lord and Saviour;--but how much more some love Him than others! I
ask any true Christian whether this is not the case. Are not these
things so?
There are some of the Lord's people who seem _never able to get on_ from
the time of their conversion. They are born again, but they remain
babies all their lives. They are learners in Christ's school, but they
never seem to get beyond A B C, and the lowest form. They have got
inside the fold, but there they lie down and get no further. Year after
year you see in them the same old besetting sins. You hear from them the
same old experience. You remark in them the same want of spiritual
appetite,--the same squeamishness about anything but the milk of the
Word, and the same dislike to strong meat,--the same childishness,--the
same feebleness,--the same littleness of mind,--the same narrowness of
heart,--the same want of interest in anything beyond their own little
circle, which you remarked ten years ago. They are pilgrims indeed, but
pilgrims like the Gibeonites of old;--their bread is always dry and
mouldy,--their shoes always old and clouted, and their garments always
rent and torn. (Josh. ix. 4, 5.) I say this with sorrow and grief. But I
ask any real Christian, Is it not true?
There are others of the Lord's people who seem to be _always getting
on_. They grow like the grass after rain. They increase like Israel in
Egypt. They press on like Gideon,--though sometimes "faint, yet always
pursuing." (Judges viii. 4.) They are ever adding grace to grace, and
faith to faith, and strength to strength. Every time you meet them
their hearts seem larger, and their spiritual stature bigger, taller,
and stronger. Every year they appear to see more, and know more, and
believe more, and feel more in their religion. They not only have good
works to prove the reality of their faith, but they are _zealous_ of
them. They not only do well, but they are _unwearied_, in well-doing.
(Titus ii. 14; Gal. vi. 9.) They attempt great things, and they do great
things. When they fail they try again, and when they fall they are soon
up again. And all this time they think themselves poor unprofitable
servants, and fancy they do nothing at all!--These are those who make
religion lovely and beautiful in the eyes of all. They wrest praise even
from the unconverted, and win golden opinions even from the selfish men
of the world. These are those whom it does one good to see, to be with,
and to hear. When you meet them, you could believe that, like Moses,
they had just come out from the presence of God. When you part with them
you feel warmed by their company, as if your soul had been near a fire.
I know such people are rare. I only ask, Is it not so?
Now, how can we account for the difference which I have just described?
What is the reason that some believers are so much brighter and holier
than others? I believe the difference, in nineteen cases out of twenty,
arises from different habits about private prayer. I believe that those
who are not eminently holy pray _little_, and those who are eminently
holy pray _much_.
I daresay this opinion will startle some readers. I have little doubt
that many look on eminent holiness as a kind of special gift, which none
but a few must pretend to aim at. They admire it at a distance, in
books: they think it beautiful when they see an example near themselves.
But as to its being a thing within the reach of any but a very few, such
a notion never seems to enter their minds. In short, they consider it a
kind of monopoly granted to a few favoured believers, but certainly not
to all.
Now I believe that this is a most dangerous mistake. I believe that
spiritual, as well as natural, greatness, depends far more on the use of
means within everybody's reach, than on anything else. Of course I do
not say we have a right to expect a miraculous grant of intellectual
gifts. But this I do say, that when a man is once converted to God,
whether he shall be eminently holy or not depends chiefly on his own
diligence in the use of God's appointed means. And I assert confidently,
that the principal means by which most believers have become great in
the Church of Christ is the habit of _diligent private prayer_.
Look through the lives of the brightest and best of God's servants,
whether in the Bible or not. See what is written of Moses, and David,
and Daniel, and Paul. Mark what is recorded of Luther and Bradford, the
Reformers. Observe what is related of the private devotions of
Whitfield, and Cecil, and Venn, and Bickersteth, and M'Cheyne. Tell me
of one of all the goodly fellowship of saints and martyrs, who has not
had this mark most prominently,--he was _a man of prayer_. Oh, depend
upon it, prayer is power!
Prayer obtains fresh and continued outpourings of the Spirit. He alone
begins the work of grace in a man's heart: He alone can carry it forward
and make it prosper. But the good Spirit loves to be entreated. And
those who ask most, will always have most of His influence.
Prayer is the surest remedy against the devil and besetting sins. That
sin will never stand firm which is heartily prayed against: that devil
will never long keep dominion over us which we beseech the Lord to cast
forth. But, then, we must spread out all our case before our Heavenly
Physician, if He is to give us daily relief: we must drag our
indwelling devils to the feet of Christ, and cry to Him to send them
back to the pit.
Do we wish to grow in grace and be very holy Christians? Then let us
never forget the value of prayer.
VI. In the sixth place, _neglect of prayer is one great cause of
backsliding_.