forsyth p t the soul of prayer

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May 15, 1997.

This book is in the public domain

THE SOUL OF PRAYERBy

P. T. Forsyth

William B. Eerdmans Publishin !om"any #rand Ra"ids$ %i&hian

This Ameri&an Edition is a re"rint o' (The Soul o' Prayer( 'irst "ublished in )*)+

Preface.............................................................................................................1

Chapter One The n!ardness of Prayer......................................................."

Chapter T!o The #aturalness of Prayer....................................................1"

Chapter Three The Moral $eactions of Prayer............................................"1

Chapter %our The Timeliness of Prayer......................................................"&

Chapter %i'e The Ceaselessness of Prayer................................................"(

Chapter )i* The +icariousness of Prayer................................................-

Chapter )e'en The nsistency of Prayer.......................................................&"

Preface

%or the sake of completeness, Chapters + and + are reprinted from another little book1/

of !hich they make a part, and ha'e to thank Messrs. 0odder )tou2hton for ready

lea'e to do so.

Parts ha'e also appeared in theLondon Quarterly Review, and 2ladly ackno!led2e the

complaisance of its 3ditor.

,edi&ation TO %RS. WATERHOUSE

Lomberdale Hall$ in the Hih Pea-

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There is, hi2h amon2 the hills, a 2arden !ith a !alk44a terraced !alk. The moors lie

round it, and the hei2hts face it and belo! the 'illa2e dro!ses !hile far, far afield, the

!orld a2oni6es in a solemn tra2edy of ri2hteousness !here you, too, ha'e your

sepulchres/44a tra2edy not uite di'orced from the !ar in hea'en, nor all un!orthy of the

2lorious cusp of sky that roofs the riot of the hills.

The !alk be2ins !ith a conser'atory of flo!ers and it ends in an old 8othic arch44risin2,

as it !ere, from beauty natural and frail to beauty spiritual and eternal. nd it cur'es and

t!ines bet!een rocky plants, as if to su22est ho! arduous the passa2e from the natural to

the spiritual is. nd it has, half4!ay, a little hermita2e on it, like a !ayside chapel, of old

car'ed and inscribed stones. nd the music and the pictures: Close by, the mo!ers !hir

upon the la!n, and the thrust flutes in the birch hed2e beyond, in the 2ash of the 'alley,

the stream purrs up throu2h the steep !oods still farther, the limestone rocks rise

fantastic, like castles in the air and, o'er all, the lark still soars and sin2s in the sun as he

does e'en in %landers/, and makes melody in his heart to the ;ord.That terrace !as made !ith a purpose and a !elcome at !ill. nd it is 2ood to pace the

talian pa'in2, to tread the fra2rance from the alyssum in the seams, to brood upon the

hori6ons of the far, lon2 !olds, !ith their thread of road risin2 and 'anishin2 into busy

Cra'en, and all the time to think 2reatly of 8od and kindly of men44faithfully of the past,

lo'in2ly of the present, and hopefully of the future.

)o in our soul let us make a cornice road for 8od to come !hen 0e !ill, and !alk upon

our hi2h places. nd a little lod2e and shelter let us ha'e on it, of sacred stones, a shrine

of ancient !rit and churchly memories. ;et us make an eyrie there of lar2e 'ision and

humane, a retreat of rest and refittin2 for a dreadful !orld. May 0e sho! us, up there

apart, transfi2ured thin2s in a noble li2ht. May 0e prepare us for the sorro!s of the 'alley

by a 2lorious peace, and for the action of life by a fello!ship 2racious, !arm, and noble

as e'en earthly friendships may be/. )o may !e face all the harsh realisms of Time in the

reality, po!er, and kindness of the 3ternal, !hose Mercy is as 0is Mas. nd all true prayer promotes its o!n pro2ress and increases our po!er to pray.

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The !orst sin is prayerlessness. O'ert sin, or crime, or the 2larin2 inconsistencies !hich

often surprise us in Christian people are the effect of this, or its punishment. ?e are left

by 8od for lack of seekin2 0im. The history of the saints sho!s often that their lapses

!ere the fruit and nemesis of slackness or ne2lect in prayer. Their life, at seasons, also

tended to become inhuman by their spiritual solitude. They left men, and !ere left by

men, because they did not in their contemplation find 8od they found but the thou2ht or

the atmosphere of 8od. Only li'in2 prayer keeps loneliness humane. t is the 2reat

producer of sympathy. Trustin2 the 8od of Christ, and transactin2 !ith 0im, !e come

into tune !ith men. Our e2oism retires before the comin2 of 8od, and into the clearance

there comes !ith our %ather our brother. ?e reali6e man as he is in 8od and for 8od, his

;o'er. ?hen 8od fills our heart 0e makes more room for man than the humanist heart

can find. Prayer is an act, indeed theact, of fello!ship. ?e cannot truly pray e'en for

oursel'es !ithout passin2 beyond oursel'es and our indi'idual e*perience. f !e should

be2in !ith these the nature of prayer carries us beyond them, both to 8od and to man.

3'en pri'ate prayer is common prayer44the more so, possibly, as it retires from bein2

public prayer.

#ot to !ant to pray, then, is the sin behind sin. nd it ends in not bein2 able to pray. That

is its punishment44spiritual dumbness, or at least aphasia, and star'ation. ?e do not take

our spiritual food, and so !e falter, d!indle, and die. @n the s!eat of your bro! ye shall

eat your bread.@ That has been said to be true both of physical and spiritual labour. t is

true both of the life of bread and of the bread of life.

Prayer brin2s !ith it, as food does, a ne! sense of po!er and health. ?e are dri'en to it

by hun2er, and, ha'in2 eaten, !e are refreshed and stren2thened for the battle !hich e'enour physical life in'ol'es. %or heart and flesh cry out for the li'in2 8od. 8od>s 2ift is

free it is, therefore, a 2ift to our freedom, i.e. rene!al to our moral stren2th, to !hat

makes men of us. ?ithout this 2ift al!ays rene!ed, our 'ery freedom can ensla'e us. The

life of e'ery or2anism is but the constant 'ictory of a hi2her ener2y, constantly fed, o'er

lo!er and more elementary forces. Prayer is the assimilation of a holy 8od>s moral

stren2th.

?e must !ork for this li'in2. To feed the soul !e must toil at prayer. nd !hat a labour it

is: @0e prayed in an a2ony.@ ?e must pray e'en to tears if need be. Our cooperation !ith

8od is our recepti'ity but it is an acti'e, a laborious recepti'ity, an importunity thatdrains our stren2th a!ay if it do not tap the sources of the )tren2th 3ternal. ?e !ork, !e

sla'e, at recei'in2. To him that hath this laborious e*pectancy it shall be 2i'en. Prayer is

the po!erful appropriation of po!er, of di'ine po!er. t is therefore creati'e.

Prayer is not mere !ishin2. t is askin244!ith a !ill. Our !ill 2oes into it. t is ener2y.

Orare est laborare.?e turn to an acti'e 8i'er therefore !e 2o into action. %or !e could


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not pray !ithout kno!in2 and meetin2 0im in kind. f 8od has a contro'ersy !ith srael,

srael must !restle !ith 8od. Moreo'er, 0e is the 8i'er not only of the ans!er, but first

of the prayer itself. 0is 2ift pro'okes ours. 0e beseeches us, !hich makes us beseech

0im. nd !hat !e ask for chiefly is the po!er to ask more and to ask better. ?e pray for

more prayer. The true @2ift of prayer@ is 8od>s 2race before it is our facility.

Thus prayer is, for us, parado*ically, both a 2ift and a conuest, a 2race and a duty. =ut

does that not mean, is it not a special case of the truth, that all duty is a 2ift, e'ery call on

us a blessin2, and that the task !e often find a burden is really a boonA ?hen !e look up

from under it it is a load, but those !ho look do!n to it from 8od>s side see it as a

blessin2. t is like 2reat !in2s44they increase the !ei2ht but also the fli2ht. f !e ha'e no

duty to do 8od has shut 0imself from us. To be denied duty is to be denied 8od. #o

cross no Christ. @?hen pain ends 2ain ends too.@

?e are so e2oistically en2rossed about 8od>s 2i'in2 of the ans!er that !e for2et 0is 2ift

of the prayer itself. =ut it is not a uestion simply of !illin2 to pray, but of acceptin2 andusin2 as 8od>s !ill the 2ift and the po!er to pray. n e'ery act of prayer !e ha'e already

be2un to do 8od>s !ill, for !hich abo'e all thin2s !e pray. The prayer !ithin all prayer

is @Thy !ill be done.@ nd has that petition not a special si2nificance hereA @My prayer is

Thy ?ill. Thou didst create it in me. t is Thine more than mine. Perfect Thine o!n

!ill@44all that is the paraphrase, from this 'ie!point, of @0ear my prayer.@ @The !ill to

pray,@ !e say, @is Thy !ill. ;et that be done both in my petition and in Thy perfectin2 of

it.@ The petition is half 8od>s !ill. t is 8od>s !ill inchoate. @Thy !ill@ in my prayer/ @be

done in Thy ans!er/. t is Thine both to !ill and to do. Thy !ill be done in hea'en44in

the ans!er, as it is done upon earth44in the askin2.@

Prayer has its 2reat end !hen it lifts us to be more conscious and more sure of the 2ift

than the need, of the 2race than the sin. s petition rises out of need or sin, in our first

prayer it comes first but it may fall into a subordinate place !hen, at the end and hei2ht

of our !orship, !e are filled !ith the fullness of 8od. @n that day ye shall ask Me

nothin2.@ n!ard sorro! is fulfilled in the prayer of petition in!ard s 2reat refusals !ere sometimes

the true ans!ers to our truest prayer. Our soul is fulfilled if our petition is not.

?hen !e be2in to pray !e may catch and surprise oursel'es in a position like this. ?e

feel to be facin2 8od from a position of independence. f 0e start from 0is end !e do

from ours. ?e are 0is vis-a-vis;0e is ours. 0e is an ob


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0im erect, !ith courteous self4respect shinin2 throu2h our po'erty. ?e bo! do!n to

0im. ?e !orship. =ut still it is a 'oluntary, an independent, submission and tribute, so to

say. t is a re'erence !hich !e make an offer. ?e present somethin2 !hich is ours to

2i'e. f !e ask 0im to 2i'e !e feel that !e be2in the 2i'in2 in our !orship. ?e are

outside each other and !e call, and 0e 2raciously comes.

=ut this is not Christian idea, it is only a crude sta2e of it if the #e! Testament is to

2uide us/. ?e are there tau2ht that only those thin2s are perfected in 8od !hich 0e

be2ins, that !e seek only because 0e found, !e beseech 0im because 0e first besou2ht

us " Cor. '. "B/. f our prayer reach or mo'e 0im it is because 0e first reached and

mo'ed us to pray. The prayer that reached and mo'ed us to pray. The prayer that reached

hea'en be2an there, !hen Christ !ent forth. t be2an !hen 8od turned to beseech us in

Christ44in the appealin2 ;amb slain before the foundation of the !orld. The )pirit !ent

out !ith the po!er and function in it to return !ith our soul. Our prayer is the ans!er to

8od>s. 0erein is prayer, not that !e prayed 0im, but that 0e first prayed us, in 2i'in2 0is)on to be a propitiation for us. The heart of the tonement is prayer44Christ>s 2reat self4

offerin2 to 8od in the 3ternal )pirit. The !hole rhythm of Christ>s soul, so to say, !as

8odhead 2oin2 out and returnin2 on itself. nd so 8od stirs and inspires all prayer !hich

finds and mo'es 0im. 0is lo'e pro'okes our sacred for!ardness. 0e does not compel us,

but !e cannot help it after that look, that tone, that turn of 0is. ll say, @ am yours if you

!ill@ and !hen !e !ill it is prayer. ny final 2lory of human success or destiny rises

from man bein2 8od>s continual creation, and destined by 0im for 0im. )o !e pray

because !e !ere made for prayer, and 8od dra!s us out by breathin2 0imself in.

?e feel this especially as prayer passes up!ards into praise. ?hen the mercy !ebesou2ht comes home to us its mo'ement is re'ersed in us, and it returns upon itself as

thanks2i'in2. @8reat blessin2s !hich !e !on !ith prayer are !orn !ith thankfulness.@

Praise is the con'erted consecration of the e2oism that may ha'e mo'ed our prayer.

Prayer may sprin2 from self4lo'e, and be so far natural for nature is all of the cra'in2

and takin2 kind. =ut praise is supernatural. t is of pure 2race. nd it is a si2n that the

prayer !as more than natural at heart. )pare some leisure, therefore, from petition for

thanks2i'in2. f the )pirit mo'e conspicuously to praise, it sho!s that 0e also mo'ed

latently the prayer, and that !ithin nature is that !hich is abo'e it. @Prayer and thanks are

like the double motion of the lun2s the air that is dra!n in by prayer is breathed forth

a2ain by thanks.@

Prayer is turnin2 our !ill on 8od either in the !ay of resi2nation or of impertration. ?e

yield to 0is ?ill or 0e to ours. 0ence reli2ion is abo'e all thin2s prayer, accordin2 as it

is a reli2ion of !ill and conscience, as it is an ethical reli2ion. t is !ill and ?ill. To be

reli2ious is to pray. =ad prayer is false reli2ion. #ot to pray is to be irreli2ious. @The

battle for reli2ion is the battle for prayer the theory of reli2ion is the philosophy of

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prayer.@ n prayer !e do not think out 8od !e dra! 0im out. Prayer is !here our

thou2ht of 8od passes into action, and becomes more certain than thou2ht. n all thou2ht

!hich is not mere dreamin2 or broodin2 there is an element of !ill and in earnest !hich

is intelli2ent/ prayer !e 2i'e this element the upper hand. ?e do not simply spread our

thou2ht our before 8od, but !e offerit to 0im, turn it on 0im, brin2 it to bear on 0im,

press it on 0im. This is our 2reat and first sacrifice, and it becomes pressure on 8od. ?e

can offer 8od nothin2 so 2reat and effecti'e as our obedient acceptance of the mind and

purpose and !ork of Christ. t is not easy. t is harder than any idealism. =ut then it is

'ery mi2hty. nd it is a po!er that 2ro!s by e*ercise. t first it 2roans, at last it 2lides.

nd it comes to this, that, as there are thou2hts that seem to think themsel'es in us, so

there are prayers that pray themsel'es in us. nd, as those are the best thou2hts, these are

the best prayers. %or it is the Christ at prayer !ho li'es in us, and !e are conduits of the

3ternal ntercession.

Prayer is often represented as the 2reat means of the Christian life. =ut it is no meremeans, it is the 2reat end of that life. t is, of course, not untrue to call it a means. t is so,

especially at first. =ut at last it is truer to say that !e li'e the Christian life in order to

pray than that !e pray in order to li'e the Christian life. t is at least as true. Our prayer

prepares for our !ork and sacrifice, but all our !ork and sacrifice still more prepare for

prayer. nd !e are, perhaps, oftener !ron2 in our !ork, or e'en our sacrifice, than !e

are in our prayer44and that for !ant of its 2uidance. =ut to reach this hei2ht, to make of

prayer our 2reat end, and to order life al!ays in 'ie! of such a solemnity, in this sense to

pray !ithout ceasin2 and !ithout pedantry44it is a slo! matter. ?e cannot mo'e fast to

such a fine product of piety and feelin2. t is a 2ro!th in 2race. nd the !hole history of

the !orld sho!s that nothin2 2ro!s so slo!ly as 2race, nothin2 costs as much as free

2race a fact !hich dri'es us to all kinds of apolo2ies to e*plain !hat seems the absence

of 8od from 0is !orld, and especially from 0is !orld of souls. f 8od, to our 2rief,

seems to us far absent from history, ho! does 0e 'ie! the distance, the absence, of

history from 0imA

chief obs prayer to find her lost so'erei2n may

mean more than the prayer of many a cloister. )uch distress is often meant by 8od as the

initial means and e*ercise to 0is constant end of reunion !ith 0im. 0is patience is so

lon2 and kind that 0e is !illin2 to be2in !ith us !hen !e are no farther on than to use

0im as a means of escape or relief. The holy %ather can turn to 0is o!n account at last

e'en the e*ploitin2 e2oism of youth. nd 0e 2i'es us some ans!er, thou2h the relief

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!ords it is to !ork them into ar2ument and pursue their dialectic conseuences. There is

a deeper mo'ement of speech than that, and a more in!ard mystery, !herein the ?ord

does not spread out to !isdom, nor broods in dream, but 2athers to po!er and condenses

to action. The ?ord becomes %lesh, )oul, ;ife, the acti'e conuerin2 kin2dom of 8od.

Prayer, as it is spoken, follo!s the principle of the ncarnation !ith its t!ofold

mo'ement, do!n and up."/t is spirit not in e*pression only, but in deed and 'ictory. t is

speech become not only mo'ement, but moral action and achie'ement it is !ord become

!ork as the ?ord from bein2 )pirit became flesh, as Christ from prophet became priest,

and then 0oly )pirit. t is the principle of the ncarnation, only !ith the descendin2

mo'ement re'ersed. @De are 2ods.@ 8od became man in 0is )on>s out2oin2 that man

mi2ht become di'ine and prayer is in the train of the )on>s return to the %ather, a

function of the scension and 3*altation, in !hich if !e may not say man becomes 8od/

!e are made partakers of the di'ine nature, not ontolo2ically, but practically,

e*perimentally. t is the true response, and tribute, and trophy to Christ>s humiliation.

Man rises to be a co4!orker !ith 8od in the hi2hest sense. %or it is only action, it is not

by dream or rapture, far less in essence, that !e enter communion !ith an acti'e bein244

abo'e all !ith the eternal ct of 8od in Christ that upholds the !orld. s such

communion prayer is no mere rapport, no mere contact. t is the central act of the soul,

or2anic !ith Christ>s it is that !hich brin2s it into tune !ith the !hole uni'erse as 8od>s

act, and ans!ers the beatin2 of its central heart. t is a part and function of the creati'e,

preser'ati'e, and consummatory ener2y of the !orld.

?hat is true reli2ionA t is not the reli2ion !hich contains most truth in the theolo2ical

sense of the !ord. t is not the reli2ion most truly thou2ht out, not that !hich most

closely fits !ith thou2ht. t is reli2ion !hich comes to itself most po!erfully in prayer. t

is the reli2ion in !hich the soul becomes 'ery sure of 8od and itself in prayer. Prayer

contains the 'ery heart and hei2ht of truth, but especially in the Christian sense of truth44

reality and action. n prayer the inmost truth of our personal bein2 locks !ith the inmost

reality of thin2s, its ener2y finds a li'in2 Person actin2 as their unity and life, and !e

escape the illusions of sense, self, and the !orld. Prayer, indeed, is the 2reat means for

appropriatin2, out of the amal2am of illusion !hich means so much for our education, the

pure 2old of 8od as 0e !ills, the )pirit as 0e !orks, and thin2s as they are. t is the 2reat

school both of proficiency and of 'eracity of soul. 0o! fe! court and attain proficiency

of soul:/ t may often cast us do!n, for !e are reduced by this contact to our true

dimensions44but to our 2reat peace.

Prayer, true prayer, does not allo! us to decei'e oursel'es. t rela*es the tension of our

self4inflation. t produces a clearness of spiritual 'ision. )earchin2 !ith a


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medicine. t 0is comin2 our self4confidence is shaken. Our robust confidence, e'en in

2race, is destroyed. The pillars of our house tremble, as if they !ere i'y4co'ered in a

searchin2 !ind. Our lusty faith is refined, by !hat may be a painful process, into a

subtler and more penetratin2 kind and its out!ard effect is for the time impaired, thou2h

in the end it is increased. The effect of the prayer !hich admits 8od into the recesses of

the soul is to destroy that spiritual density, not to say stupidity, !hich made our reli2ion

cheery or 'i2orous because it kne! no better, and !hich !as the condition of 2ettin2

many ob'ious thin2s done, and producin2 palpable effect on the order of the day. There

are fer'ent prayers !hich, by makin2 people feel 2ood, may do no more than foster the

delusion that natural 'i2our or robust reli2ion, !hen flushed enou2h, can do the !ork of

the kin2dom of 8od. There is a certain e2oist self4confidence !hich is increased by the

more elementary forms of reli2ion, !hich upholds us in much of our contact !ith men,

and !hich e'en secures us an influence !ith them. =ut the influence is one of impression

rather than permeation, it o'erbears rather than con'erts, and it inflames rather than

inspires. This is a force !hich true and close prayer is 'ery apt to undermine, because it

saps our self4deception and its Pharisaism. The confidence !as due to a lack of spiritual

insi2ht !hich serious prayer plentifully repairs. )o by prayer !e acuire our true sel'es.

f my prayer is not ans!ered, am. f my petition is not fulfilled, my person, my soul, is

as the artist comes to himself and his happiness in the e*ercise of the talent he !as made

for, in spite of the delay and difficulty of turnin2 his !ork to money. f the 2enius is

happy !ho 2ets scope, the soul is blessed that truly comes to itself in prayer.

=lessed, yet not al!ays happy. %or by prayers !e are set tasks sometimes !hich at first,

at least/ may add to life>s burden. Our eyes bein2 opened, !e see problems to !hich

before !e !ere blind, and !e hear calls that no more let us alone. nd ha'e said that !e

are sho!n oursel'es at times in a !ay to dishearten us, and take effecti'e do2matism out

of us. ?e lose effect on those people !ho take others at their o!n emphatic 'aluation,

!ho do not try the spirits, and !ho ha'e acuired no skill to discern the ;ord in the

apostle. True searchin2 prayer is incompatible !ith spiritual dullness or self4

complacency. nd, therefore, such stupidity is not a mere defect, but a 'ice. t 2re! upon

us because !e did not court the searchin2 li2ht, nor haunt the 'icinity of the 2reat !hite

Throne. ?e are char2eable !ith it because of our ne2lect of !hat cures it. %aith is a

uickenin2 spirit, it has insi2ht and reli2ious density betrays its absence, bein2 often the

'ictim of the sermon instead of the alumnus of the 2ospel. t is not at all the effect of

i2norance. Many i2norant people escape it by the e*ercise of themsel'es unto 2odliness

and they not only sho! !onderful spiritual acumen, but they turn it upon themsel'es

!ith a result, often, of 2reat but 'i2ilant humility, such a*is apt to die out of an a22ressi'e

reli2ion more ea2er to brin2 in a kin2dom comin2 than to trust a in2dom come. They

are self4sufficient in a 2odly sort, and can e'en carry others, in a !ay !hich re'eals the

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action of a po!er in them beyond all natural and unschooled force. ?e can feel in them

the discipline of the )pirit. ?e can read much habitual prayer bet!een their lines. They

ha'e risen far abo'e reli2ion. They are in the )pirit, and li'e in a lon2 ;ord>s day. ?e

kno! that they are not tryin2 to ser'e Christ !ith the mere lustiness of natural reli2ion,

nor e*pectin2 do do the )pirit>s !ork !ith the force of nati'e temperament turned pious.

There are, e'en amon2st the reli2ious, people of a shre!d density or numble dullness

!ho


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teleolo2y in #ature at all, prayer is the telos. The !orld !as made to !orship 8od, for

8od>s 2lory. nd this purpose is the !orld>s pro'idence, the principle of creation. t is an

end present all alon2 the line and course of natural e'olution for !e deal in prayer most

closely !ith One to !hom is no after nor before. ?e reali6e the simultaneity of 3ternity.

?hen !e are straitened in prayer !e are yet not 'ictims of #ature, !e are yet free in the2race of 8od44as 0is o!n freedom !as straitened in Christ>s incarnation, not to say 0is

dereliction, to the finishin2 of 0is task. t is hard, it is often impossible, for us to tell

!hether our hour of constriction or our hour of e*pansion contributes more to the di'ine

purpose and its career. =oth 2o to make real prayer. They are the systole and diastole of

the !orld>s heart. True prayer is the supreme function of the personality !hich is the

!orld>s supreme product. t is personality !ith this function that 8od seeks abo'e all to

rear44it is neither particular moods of its e*perience, nor influential relations of it !ith the

!orld. The prayin2 personality has an eternal 'alue for 8od as an end in itself. This is the

di'ine fullness of life>s time and course, the one achie'ement that sur'i'es !ith morepo!er in death than in life. The intercession of Christ in hea'en is the continuity and

consummation of 0is supreme !ork on earth. To share it is the meanin2 of prayin2 in the

)pirit. nd it has more effect on history than ci'ili6ation has. This is a hard sayin2, but a

Christian can say no other!ise !ithout in so far 2i'in2 up his Christianity.

@There is a buddin2 morro! in midni2ht.@ nd e'ery s net. t>s 2ro!th is often 'isible only to the )a'iour !hom !e

keep near by prayer, !hose search !e in'oke, and for !hose action !e make room in

prayer. Our certainty of 0im is 2irt round !ith much uncertainty, about 0is !orkin2,

about the steps of 0is process. =ut in prayer !e become more and more sure that 0e is

sure, and kno!s all thin2s to 0is end. ll alon2 Christ is bein2 darkly formed !ithin us

as !e pray and our con'erse !ith 8od 2oes on risin2 to become an element of the

intercourse of the %ather and the )on, !hom !e o'erhear, as it !ere, at con'erse in us.

Det this does not insulate us from our kind for other people are then no more alien to us,

but near in a ;ord !ho is to them !hat 0e is to us. Pri'ate prayer may thus become more

really common prayer that public prayer is.

nd so also !ith the uni'erse itself as !e rise in Christ to prayer. Foined !ith its

$edeemer, !e are inte2rated into its uni'ersality. ?e are made members of its 'ast !hole.

?e are not detained and cramped in a sectional !orld. ?e are not planted in the presence

of an outside, alien uni'erse, nor in the midst of a distrau2ht, unreconciled uni'erse,

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!hich speaks like a cro!d, in many fra2ments and many 'oices, and dra2s us from one

relation !ith it to another, !ith a ;o, here is Christ, or there. =ut it is a uni'erse !holly

'ocal to us, really a uni'erse, and 'ocal as a !hole, one con2enial and friendly, as it

comes to us in its Christ and ours. t !as !aitin2 for us44for such a manifestation of the

)on of 8od as prayer is. This !orld is not no! a desert haunted by demons. nd it is

more than a 'estibule to another it is its prelude in the drama of all thin2s. ?e kno! it in

another kno!led2e no! than its o!n. #ature can ne'er be understood by natural

kno!led2e. ?e kno! it as science ne'er can44as a !hole, and as reality. ?e kno! it as

!e are kno!n of 8od44alto2ether, and not in pieces. 0a'in2 nothin2, and prayin2 for

e'erythin2, !e possess all thin2s. The faith that ener2i6es in Christian prayer sets us at

the centre of that !hole of !hich #ature is the o'erture part. The steps of thou2ht and its

processes of la! fade a!ay. They do not cease to act, but they retire from notice. ?e

2rasp the mobile or2ani6ation of thin2s deep at its constant and trusty heart. ?e recei'e

the earnest of our sal'ation44Christ in us.

There, !here one centre reconciles all thin2s,

The !orld>s profound heart beats.

?e are planted there. nd all the mediation of process becomes immediate in its eternal

2round. s !e are 2oin2 there !e feel already there. @They !ere !illin2 to recei'e 0im

into the boat, and strai2ht!ay the boat !as at the land !hither they !ere 2oin2.@ ?e

2rasp that eternal life to !hich all thin2s !ork, !hich 2i'es all the !a*in2 or2ani6ationits bein2 and meanin244for a real or2anism only 2ro!s because it already is. That is the

mark of a real life. nd soul and person is the 2reatest or2anism of all. ?e apprehend our

soul as it is apprehended of 8od and in 8od, the timeless 8od44!ith all its e'olution, past

or future, con'erted into a di'ine present. ?e are already all that !e are to be. ?e possess

our souls in the prayer !hich is real communion !ith 8od. ?e enter by faith upon that

!hich to si2ht and history is but a far future re'ersion. ?hen 0e comes to our prayer 0e

brin2s !ith 0im all that 0e purposes to make us. ?e are already the @bra'e creature@ 0e

means us to be. More than our desire is fulfilled44our soul is. n such hour or 'isitation !e

reali6e our soul or person at no one sta2e of it, but in its fullness, and in the conte*t of its!hole and final place in history, the !orld, and eternity. phase !hich has no meanin2 in

itself, yet carries, like the humble mother of a 2reat 2enius, an eternal meanin2 in it. nd

!e can sei6e that meanin2 in prayer !e can pierce to !hat !e are at our true course and

true destiny, i.e. !hat !e are to 8od>s 2race. ;a!s and in


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no friction and no 2rief any more. ?e taste lo'e and s moral stren2th because it blunts their thou2ht and

con'iction of the 0oly. t must be so if prayer is such a moral blessin2 and such a shapin2po!er, if it pass, by its nature, from the 'a2ue 'olume and passion of de'otion to formed

petition and effort. Prayerlessness is an in


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of due response to the 2ospel of our reconcilement and communion !ith 8od. nd it is a

thin2 almost dreadful that Christians !ho pray to the same 8od, Christ, and )a'iour

should refuse to unite in prayer because of institutional differences.

prayer is also a promise. 3'ery true prayer carries !ith it a 'o!. f it do not, it is not in

earnest. t is not of a piece !ith life. Can !e pray in earnest if !e do not in the actcommit oursel'es to do our best to brin2 about the ans!erA Can !e escape some kin2 of

hypocrisyA This is especially so !ith intercession. ?hat is the 'alue of prayin2 for the

poor if all the rest of our time and interest is 2i'en only to becomin2 richA ?here is the

honesty of prayin2 for our country if in our most acti'e hours !e are chiefly occupied in

makin2 somethin2 out of it, if !e are stran2e to all sacrifice for itA Prayer is one form of

sacrifice, but if it is the only form it is 'ain oblation. f !e pray for our child that he may

ha'e 8od>s blessin2, !e are really promisin2 that nothin2 shall be lackin2 on our part to

be a di'ine blessin2 to him. nd if !e ha'e no kind of reli2ious relation to him as plenty

of Christian parents ha'e none/, our prayer is uite unreal, and its failure should not be asurprise. To pray for 8od>s kin2dom is also so en2a2e oursel'es to ser'ice and sacrifice

for it. To be2in our prayer !ith a petition for the hallo!in2 of 8od>s name and to ha'e no

real and prime place for holiness in our life or faith is not sincere. The prayer of the

'indicti'e for for2i'eness is mockery, like the prayer for daily bread from a !heat4

cornerer. #o such man could say the ;ord>s Prayer but to his s Prayer became a test for membership as thorou2hly as

the Creeds ha'e beenA The ;ord>s Prayer is also a 'o! to the ;ord. #one but a Christian

can pray it, or should. 8reat !orship of 8od is also a 2reat en2a2ement of oursel'es, a

2reat committal of our action. To be2in the day !ith prayer is but a formality unless it 2o

on in prayer, unless for the rest of it !e pray in deed !hat !e be2an in !ord. One has

said that !hile prayer is the day>s best be2innin2 it must not be like the handsome title4

pa2e of a !orthless book.

@Thy !ill be done.@ Gnless that !ere the spirit of all our prayer, ho! should !e ha'e

coura2e to pray if !e kno! oursel'es at all, or if !e ha'e come to a time !hen !e can

ha'e some retrospect on our prayers and their fateA ?ithout this committal to the !isdom

of 8od, prayer !ould be a 'ery dan2erous !eapon in proportion as it !as effecti'e. #o

true 8od could promise us an ans!er to our e'ery prayer. #o %ather of mankind could.

The rain that sa'ed my crop mi2ht ruin my nei2hbour>s. t !ould paralyse prayer to be

sure that it !ould pre'ail as it is offered, certainly and at once. ?e should be terrified at

the po!er put into our foolish hands. #othin2 !ould do more to cure us of a belief in our

o!n !isdom than the 2rantin2 of some of our ea2er prayers. nd nothin2 could humiliate

us more than to ha'e 8od say !hen the fulfilment of our desire brou2ht leanness to our

souls. @?ell, you ha'e it.@ t is !hat 0e has said to many. =ut 0e said more, @My 2race is

sufficient for thee.@

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Chapter Two The Naturalness of Prayer

?e touch the last reality directly in prayer. nd !e do this not by thou2ht>s natural

research, yet by a uest not less laborious. Prayer is the atmosphere of re'elation, in the

strict and central sense of that !ord. t is the climate in !hich 8od>s manifestation bursts

open into inspiration. ll the mediation of #ature and of thin2s sinks here to the rear, and

!e are left !ith 8od in Christ as 0is o!n Mediator and 0is o!n $e'ealer. 0e is directly

!ith us and in us. ?e transcend there t!o thousand years as if they !ere but one day. =y

0is )pirit and 0is )pirit>s creati'e miracle 8od becomes 0imself our ne! nature, !hich

is yet our o!n, our destined #ature for !e !ere made !ith 0is ima2e for our @doom of2reatness.@ t is no mere case of education or e'olution dra!in2 our our best. Prayer has a

creati'e action in its ans!er. t does more than present us !ith our true, deep, latent

sel'es. t lays hold on 8od, and 8od is not simply our ma2nified self. Our other self is, in

prayer, our Creator still creatin2. Our Maker it is that is our 0usband. 0e is nother. ?e

feel, the more !e are united !ith 0im in true prayer, the deep, close difference, the

intimate otherness in true lo'e. Other!ise prayer becomes mere dreamin2 it is spiritual

e*tempori6in2 and not con'erse. The di'ision runs not simply bet!een us and #ature, but

it parts us !ithin our spiritual self, !here union is most close. t is a spiritual distinction,

like the distinction of %ather and )on in hea'en. =ut #ature itself, our natural sel'es, are

in'ol'ed in it because #ature for the Christian is implicated in $edemption. t @arri'es.@

t is read in a ne! script. The soul>s conflict is found in a prelude in it. This may disturb

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The 'oice that rolls the stars alon2

)peaks all 0is promises.

Our o!n natural instincts turn our scour2es, but also our blessin2s, accordin2 as they

mock 8od or ser'e 0im. )o #ature becomes our chaperone for Christ, our tutor !hose

duty is daily to deli'er us at Christ>s door. t opens out into a Christ !hose place and

action are not historic only, but also cosmic. The cosmic place of Christ in the later

epistles is not apostolic fantasy, e*tra'a2ant speculation, nor 2roundless theosophy. t is

the ripeness of practical faith, faith !hich by action comes to itself and to its o!n.

3specially is this pointed !here faith has its most pointed action as prayer. f cosmic

#ature runs up into man, man rises up into prayer !hich thus fulfils #ature, brin2s its

inner truth to pass, and cro!ns its bias to spirit. Prayer is seen to be the openin2 secret of

creation, its destiny, that to !hich it all tra'ails. t is the burthen of e'olution. The earnest

e*pectation of the creation !aits, and all its on!ard thrust !orks, for the manifestation of

the sons of 8od. #ature comes to itself in prayer. Prayer reali6es and brin2s to a head the

truth of #ature, !hich 2roans bein2 burdened !ith the passion of its deli'erance, its relief

in prayer. "Magna ars est conversari cu !eo."@The art of prayer is #ature 2one to

hea'en.@ ?e become in prayer #ature>s true artists if !e may so say/, the 'ehicles of its

finest and inmost passion. nd !e are also its true priests, the or2ans of its innercommerce !ith 8od, !here the )pirit immanent in the !orld meets the )pirit

transcendent in obedient !orship. The sum of thin2s for e'er speakin2 is heard in hea'en

to pray !ithout ceasin2. t is speakin2 not only to us but in us to 8od. )olilouy here is

dialo2ue. n our prayer 8od returns from 0is pros praise.

)o prayer is the ans!er to #ature>s uest, as 8od is the ans!er to prayer. t is the 'ery

nature of nature !hich is thus miraculous or nothin2 at its core.

0ere the friction 'anishes, therefore, bet!een prayer and natural la!. #ature and all its

ple*us of la! is not static, but dynamic. t is not interplay, but e'olution. t has not only

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to mo'e, but to arri'e. ts 2reat moti'e po!er is not a mere instinct, but a destiny. ts

system is not a machine, but a procession. t is dramatic. t has a close. ts rulin2 po!er is

not !hat it rises from, but !hat it mo'es to. ts impulse is its 2oal immanent. ll its la!s

are o'erruled by the comprehensi'e la! of its destination. t tends to prayer. The la!s of

#ature are not like iron. f they are fi*ed they are only fi*ed as the composition is fi*ed at

0"B of the ri'er !hich is so fluid and mo'in2 that can use it at any time to bear me to its

sea. They are fi*ed only in so far as makes reliable, and not fatal, to man>s spirit. Their

nature is constant, but their function is not stiff. ?hat is fi*ed in the ri'er is the constancy

of its fluidity. @)till 2lides the stream, and shall for e'er 2lide.@ The 2reatest la! of

#ature is thus its bias to 8od, its nisusto return to 0is rest. This comes to li2ht chiefly in

man>s 2ra'itation to 0im, !hen 0is prodi2al comes home to 0im. The for!ardest

creation comes to itself in our passion for 8od and in our findin2 of 0im in prayer. n

prayer, therefore, !e do not ask 8od to do thin2s contrary to #ature, thou2h our reuest

may seem contrary to sections of it !hich !e take for the !hole. ?e ask 0im to fulfil

#ature>s o!n prayer.

The atmosphere of prayer seems at first to be the direct contrary of all that 2oes !ith such

!ords as practical or scientific. =ut !hat do !e mean by practical at last but that !hich

contributes to the end for !hich the !orld and mankind !ere madeA The !hole of

history, as the practical life of the race, is !orkin2 out the 2ro!th, the emancipation of

the soul, the enrichment and fortifyin2 of the human spirit. t is doin2 on the lar2e scale

!hat e'ery acti'e life is doin2 on the small44it is 2ro!in2 soul. There is no reality at last

e*cept soul, e*cept personality. This alone has eternal meanin2, po!er, and 'alue, since

this alone de'elops or hampers the eternal reality, the !ill of 8od. The uni'erse has its

bein2 and its truth for a personality, but for one at last !hich transcends indi'idual limits.

To be2in !ith the natural plane, our e2oism constructs there a little !orld !ith a definite

teleolo2y con'er2in2 on self, one !hich !ould subdue e'erybody and e'erythin2 to the

tributary to our common sensible self. On a more spiritual yet not on the di'ine/ plane

the race does the like !ith its colossal e2o. t 'ie!s and treats the uni'erse as

contributory to itself, to the corporate personality of the race. #ature is here for man, man

perhaps for the superman. ?e are not here for the 2lory of 8od, but 8od is here for the

aid and 2lory of man. =ut either !ay all thin2s are there to !ork to2ether for personality,

and to run up into a free soul. Man>s practical success is then !hat makes for the

enhancement of this e2o, small or 2reat. =ut, on the Christian plane, man himself, as part

of a creation, has a meanin2 and an end but it is in 8od he does not return on himself.

8od is his nisus and drift. 8od !orks in him he is not


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t is all a sta2e, a scenery, a plot, for a denounement !here bein2s min2le, and each is

enriched by all and all by each. t all 2oes to the music of that lo'e !hich binds all thin2s

to2ether in the cosmic dance, and !hich makes each sta2e of each thin2 prophetic of its

destined fullness only in a !orld so bound. )o science itself is practical if prayer end and

round all. t is the theory of a cosmic mo'ement !ith prayer for its acti'e end. nd it is

an ethical science at last, it is a theolo2y, if the Christian end is the real end of the !hole

!orld. ll kno!led2e ser'es lo'e and lo'e>s communion. %or Christian faith a uni'erse is

a uni'erse of souls, an or2anism of persons, !hich is the e*pression of an 3ternal ?ill of

lo'e. This lo'e is the real presence !hich 2i'es meanin2, and mo'ement, and

permanence to a fleetin2 !orld of sense. nd it is by prayer that !e come into close and

conscious union !ith this uni'erse and po!er of lo'e, this li'in2 reality of thin2s. Prayer

ho!e'er miraculous/ is, therefore, the most natural thin2s in the !orld. t is the

effectuation of all #ature, !hich comes home to roost there, and settles to its rest. t is the

last !ord of all science, 2i'in2 it contact !ith a reality !hich, as science alone, it cannot

reach. nd it is also the most practical thin2s in all man>s action and history, as doin2

most to brin2 to pass the spiritual obs cross and the

Church>s history, !ith the or2ani6ation of lo'e. =ut that is the or2ani6ation of 3ternity in

8od, and it in'ol'es the interaction of all souls in a communion of ascendin2 prayer.

Prayer is the nati'e mo'ement of the spiritual life that recei'es its meanin2 and its soul

only in 3ternity, that !orks in the style and scale of 3ternity, o!ns its principles, and

speaks its speech. t is the !ill>s con2enial surrender to that $edemption and

$econciliation bet!een lo'in2 !ills !hich is 8od>s 3ternity actin2 in time. ?e beseech

8od because 0e first besou2ht us.

)o not to pray on principle means that thou2ht has 2ot the better of the !ill. The uestion

is !hether thou2ht includes !ill or !ill thou2ht and thou2ht !ins if prayer is suppressed.

Thou2ht and not personality is then in command of the uni'erse. f !ill is but a function

of the idea, then prayer is but a symptom, it is not a po!er. t belon2s to the

phenomenolo2y of the nfinite, it is not amon2 its controls.

Prayer is doin2 8od>s !ill. t is lettin2 0im pray in us. ?e look for ans!er because 0isfullness is completely eual to 0is o!n prayers. %ather and )on are perfectly adeuate to

each other. That is the 0oly )pirit and self4sufficiency of the 8odhead.

f 8od>s !ill is to be done on earth as it is in hea'en, prayer be2ins !ith adoration. Of

course, it is thanks and petition but before !e 2i'e e'en our prayer !e must first recei'e.

The ns!erer pro'ides the 'ery prayer. ?hat !e do here rests on !hat 8od has done.

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?hat !e offer is dra!n from us by !hat 0e offers. Our self4oblation stands on 0is and

the spirit of prayer flo!s from the 2ift of the 0oly 8host, the 2reat ntercessor. 0ence

praise and adoration of 0is !ork in itself comes before e'en our thanks2i'in2 for

blessin2s to us. t the hei2ht of prayer, if not at its be2innin2, !e are preoccupied !ith

the 2reat and 2lorious thin2 8od has done for 0is o!n holy name in $edemption, apart

from its immediate and particular blessin2 to us. ?e are blind for the time to oursel'es.

?e co'er our faces !ith our !in2s and cry @0oly, holy, holy is the ;ord 8od of hosts the

fullness of the earth is 0is 2lory.@ Our full hearts 2lorify. ?e ma2nify 0is name. 0is

perfections take precedence of our occasions. ?e pray for 'ictory in the present !as, for

instance, and for deli'erance from all !ar, for the sake of 8od>s kin2dom44in a spirit of

adoration for the deli'erance there that is not destroyed, or foiled, e'en by a de'ilry like

this. f the kin2dom of 8od not only 2ot o'er the murder of Christ, but made it its 2reat

le'er, there is nothin2 that it cannot 2et o'er, and nothin2 it cannot turn to eternal blessin2

and to the 2lory of the holy name. =ut to the perspecti'e of this faith, and to its 'ision of

'alues so alien to human standards, !e can rise only in prayer.

=ut it !ould be unreal prayer !hich !as adoration only, !ith no reference to special

boons or human needs. That !ould be as if 8od reco2ni6ed no life but 0is o!n44!hich is

'ery undi'ine e2oism, and its collecti'e form is the reli2ion of mere nationalism. n true

prayer !e do t!o thin2s. ?e 2o out of oursel'es, bein2 lost in !onder, lo'e and praise

but also, and in the same act, !e 2o in upon oursel'es. ?e stir up all that is !ithin us to

bless and hallo! 8od>s name. ?e e*amine oursel'es keenly in that patient li2ht, and !e

find oursel'es e'en !hen our sin finds us out. Our nothin2ness is not burned and branded

into us as if !e had abo'e only the starry irony of hea'en. Our heart comes a2ain. Our

!ill is braced and purified. ?e not only recall our needs, but !e disco'er ne! ones, of a

more and more intimate and spiritual kind. The more spiritual !e 2ro!, the more !e rise

out of the subconscious or the unconscious. ?e ne'er reali6e oursel'es as !e do !hen !e

for2et oursel'es after this 2odly sort in prayer. Prayer is not fallin2 back upon the abyss

belo! the soul e'en as the secret of the ncarnation is sou2ht in 'ain in that non4moral

6one. Prayer is not !hat mi2ht be called the increased drone or boom of an unspeakable

Om. =ut !e rise in it to more conscious and positi'e relation !ith 8od the 0oly44the 8od

not abysmal but re'ealed, in !hose re'elation the thou2hts of many hearts are re'ealed

also, and !hose fullness makes need almost as fast as it satisfies it.

fter adoration, therefore, prayer is thanks2i'in2 and petition. ?hen !e thank 8od our

e*perience @arri'es@. t finds !hat it came for. t fulfills the 2reatest end of e*perience. t

comes to its true self, comes to its o!n, and has its perfect !ork. t breathes lar2e, lon2,

and free,sublii anbelitu.The soul runs its true normal course back to 8od its Creator,

!ho has stamped the destiny of this return upon it, and lea'es it no peace till it finds its

2oal in 0im. The 2ift !e thank for becomes sacramental because it con'eys chiefly the

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than pure can only be purified by petition. Prayer is the sal'ation of prayer. ?e pray for

better prayer. ?e can rise abo'e our e2oism only as !e ha'e real dealin2 !ith the !ill of

8od in petitionary prayer !hich does chan2e 0is detailed intentions to!ard us thou2h not

0is 2reat !ill of 2race and )al'ation.

The element of adoration has been missed from !orship by many obser'ers of our publicprayer. nd the defect 2oes !ith the indi'idualism of the a2e s fundamental relation to us is one that embraces

and blesses all. ?e are sa'ed in a common sal'ation. The atmosphere of prayer is

communion. Common prayer is the ine'itable fruit of a 2ospel like Christ>s.

Public prayer, therefore, should be in the main litur2ical, !ith room for free prayer. The

more it really is common prayer, and the more our relation !ith men e*tend and deepen

as prayer !ith and for men does e*tend them/, the more !e need forms !hich proceed

from the common and corporate conscience of the Church. 3'en Christ did. s 0e rose to

the hei2ht of 0is 2reat !orld4!ork on the cross 0is prayer fell back on the litur2y of 0is

people44on the Psalms. t is 'ery hard for the ordinary minister to come home to thespiritual 'ariety of a lar2e con2re2ation !ithout those 2reat forms !hich arose out of the

deep soul of the Church before it spread into sectional bou2hs or indi'idual t!i2s.

Common prayer is not necessarily public. To recite the ;itany on a sick4bed is common

prayer. Christ felt the dan2er of common prayer as public prayer Matt. 'i. 5,-/. nd this

is specially so !hen the public prayer is @e*tempore.@ To keep that real calls for an

amount of pri'ate prayer !hich perhaps is not for e'ery one. @3*tempore@ prayers are apt

to be pri'ate prayers in public, like the Pharisee>s in the temple, !ith too much

idiosynerasy for public use or else they lose the spontaneity of pri'ate prayer, and turn as

formal as a litur2y can be, thou2h in another and perhaps deadlier/ !ay. The prayers ofthe same man ine'itably fall more or less into the same forms and phrases. =ut pri'ate

prayer may be more common in its note than public prayer should be pri'ate in its tone.

Our pri'ate prayer should be common in spirit. ?e are doin2 in the act !hat many are

doin2. n the retired place !e include in sympathy and intercession a !orld of other men

!hich !e e*clude in fact. The !orld of men disappears from around us but not from

!ithin. ?e are not indifferent to its !eal or !oe in our seclusion. n the act of prayin2 for

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oursel'es !e pray for others, for no temptation befalls us but !hat is common to man

and in prayin2 for others !e pray !ith them. ?e pray for their prays and the success of

their prayers. t is an act of union. ?e can thus be united e'en !ith churches that refuse to

pray or unite !ith us.

Moreo'er, it is common prayer, ho!e'er solitary, that pre'ails most, as bein2 most intune !ith the 2reat first 2oal of 8od>s 2race44the community. )o this union in prayer 2i'es

to prayer an ethical note of 2reat po!er and 'alue. f !e really pray !ith others, it must

clear, and consolidate, and e*alt our moral relations !ith them e'ery!here. Could !e

best the man !ith !hom and for !hom !e really prayA There is a 2reat democratic note

in common prayer !hich is also true prayer. @3louence and ardour ha'e not done so

much for Christ>s cause as the humble 'irtues, the united acti'ity, and the patient prayers

of thousands of faithful people !hose names are uite unkno!n.@ nd !e are united thus

not only to the li'in2 but to the lon2 dead. @0e !ho prays is nearer Christ than e'en the

apostles !ere,@ certainly than the apostles before the Cross and $esurrection.?e ha'e been !arned by a man of 2enius that the bane of so much reli2ion is that it

clin2s to 8od !ith its !eakness and not !ith its stren2th. This is 'ery true of that

supreme act of reli2ion of !hich our critics kno! least44of the act of prayer. )o many of

us pray because !e are dri'en by need rather than kindled by 2race. Our prayer is a cry

rather than a hymn. t is a uest rather than a tryst. it trembles more than it triumphs. t

asks for stren2th rather than e*erts it. 0o! different !as the prayer of Christ: ll the

di'ine po!er of the 3ternal )on !ent to it. t !as the supreme form taken by 0is )onship

in its e*perience and action. #othin2 is more strikin2 in Christ>s life than 0is combination

of selflessness and po!er. 0is consciousness of po!er !as eual to anythin2, and e2oismne'er entered 0im. 0is prayer !as accordin2ly. t !as the e*ercise of 0is uniue po!er

rather than of 0is e*treme need. t came from 0is upliftin2 and not 0is despair. t !as

less 0is duty than 0is s 2ift of 2race than of man>s po'erty of

faith, of a holy lo'e than of a seekin2 heart. n 0is prayer 0e poured out neither 0is !ish

nor 0is lon2in2 merely, but 0is !ill. nd 0e kne! 0e !as heard al!ays. 0e kne! it

!ith such po!er and certainty that 0e could distribute 0is 'alue, bless !ith 0is o'erflo!,

and promise 0is disciples they !ould be heard in 0is name. t !as by 0is prayer that 0e

countered and foiled the 2odless po!er in the !orld, the kin2dom of the de'il. @)atan

hath desired to ha'e thee44but ha'e prayer for thee.@ 0is prayer means so much for the

!eak because it arose out of this stren2th and its e*ercise. t !as chiefly in 0is prayer

that 0e !as the Messiah, and the $e'ealer and ?ielder of the po!er and kin2ship of

8od. 0is po!er !ith 8od !as so 2reat that it made 0is disciples feel it could only be the

po!er of 8od 0e prayer in the 3ternal )pirit !hereby 0e offered 0imself to 8od. nd it

!as so 2reat because it !as spent on 8od alone. )o true is it that the kin2dom of 8od

comes not !ith obser'ation, that the 2reatest thin2s Christ did for it !ere done in the

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ni2ht and not in the day 0is prayers meant more than 0is miracles. nd 0is 2reat

triumph !as !hen there !ere none to see, as they all forsook 0im and fled. 0e !as

mi2htest in 0is action for men not !hen 0e !as actin2 on men but on 8od. 0e felt the

dan2ers of the publicity !here 0is !ork lay, and 0e kne! that they !ere only to be met

in secrecy. 0e did most for 0is public in entire solitude there 0e put forth all 0is po!er.

0is ni2hts !ere not al!ays the rest of !eakness from the day before, but often the storin2

of stren2th for the day to come. Prayer if !e let Christ teach us of it/ is mi2htiest in the

mi2htiest. t is the ether round the throne of the Most 0i2h. ts po!er ans!ers to the

omnipotence of 2race. nd those !ho feel they o!e e'erythin2 to 8od>s 2race need ha'e

no difficulty about the ran2e of prayer. They may pray for e'erythin2.

!ord, as close this chapter, to the sufferers. ?e pray for the remo'al of pain, pray

passionately, and then !ith e*haustion, sick from hope deferred and prayer>s failure. =ut

there is a hi2her prayer than that. t is a 2reater thin2 to pray for pain>s con'ersion than

for its remo'al. t is more of 2race to pray that 8od !ould make a sacrament of it. Thesacrament of pain: That !e partake not simply, nor perhaps chiefly, !hen !e say, or try

to say, !ith resi2nation, @Thy !ill be done.@ t is not al!ays easy for the sufferer, if he

remain clear4eyed to see that it is 8od>s !ill. t may ha'e been caused by an e'il mind, or

a li2ht fool, or some stupid 2reed. =ut, no! it is there, a certain treatment of it is 8od>s

!ill and that is to capture and e*ploit it for 0im. t is to make it ser'e the soul and

2lorify 8od. t is to consecrate its elements and make it sacramental. t is to con'ert it

into prayer.

8od has blessed pain e'en in causin2 us to pray for relief from it, or profit. ?hate'er

dri'es us to 0im, and e'en nearer 0im, has a blessin2 in it. nd, if !e are to 2o hi2herstill, it is to turn pain to praise, to thank 0im in the fires, to re'ie! life and use some of

the ener2y !e spend in !orryin2 upon recallin2 and tracin2 0is 2oodness, patience, and

mercy. f much open up to us in such a re'ie! !e may be sure there is much more !e do

not kno!, and perhaps ne'er may. 8od is the 2reatest of all !ho do 2ood by stealth and

do not cra'e for e'ery benefit to be ackno!led2ed. Or !e may see ho! our pain becomes

a blessin2 to others. nd !e turn the spirit of hea'iness to the 2arment of praise. ?e may

stop 2rousin2 and 2et our soul into its )unday clothes. The sacrament of pain becomes

then a true 3ucharist and 2i'in2 of thanks.

nd if there !ere a hi2her sta2e than all it !ould be doration44!hen !e do not think offa'ours or mercies to us or ours at all, but of the perfection and 2lory of the ;ord. ?e feel

to 0is 0oly #ame !hat the true artist feels to!ards an unspeakable beauty. s

?ords!orth saysH

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2a6ed and 2a6ed,

nd did not !ish her mine.

There !as a 2irl of 15, tall, s!eet, distin2uished beyond her years. nd this is ho! 0eine

ran into 3n2lish at the si2ht of herH

#o flo!er is half so lo'ely,

)o dear, and fair, and kind.

boundless tide of tenderness

%lo!s o'er my heart and mind.

nd pray. There is no ans!er

To beauty unearthly but prayer./

8od ans!ered my prayer, and keep you

)o dear, and fine, and fair.

Chapter Three The Moral Reactions of Prayer

ll reli2ion is founded on prayer, and in prayer it has its test and measure. To be reli2ious

is to pray, to be irreli2ious is to be incapable of prayer. The theory of reli2ion is really the

philosophy of prayer and the best theolo2y is compressed prayer. The true theolo2y is

!arm, and it steams up!ard into prayer. Prayer is access to !hate'er !e deem 8od, and

if there is no such access there is no reli2ion for it is not reli2ion to resi2n oursel'es to be

crushed by a brute po!er so that !e can no more remonstrate than resist. t is in prayer

that our real idea of 8od appears, and in prayer that our real relation to 8od sho!s itself.

On the first le'els of our reli2ion !e 2o to our 8od for help and boon in the


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boon, it is the boon !hich Christians call the 0oly )pirit, and !hich means, abo'e all

else, communion !ith 8od. =ut lest communion subside into mere meditation it must

concentrate in prayer. ?e must keep acuirin2 by such effort the 2race so freely 2i'en.

There is truly a subconscious communion, and a 2odliness that for2ets 8od !ell, in the

hourly life of ta*in2 action and duty but it must rise to seasons of collouy, !hen our

action is !holly !ith the %ather, and the business e'en of 0is kin2dom turns into heart

con'erse, !here the yoke is easy and the burden li2ht. Euty is then absorbed in lo'e44the

deep, acti'e union of souls out!ardly distinct. Their connection is not e*ternal and as !e

mi2ht say/ inor2anic it is in!ard, or2anic, and reciprocal. There is not only action but

interplay, not only need and 2ift but trust and lo'e. The boon is the 8i'er 0imself, and its

ans!er is the self of the recei'er. or ad cor lo#uitor.ll the askin2 and ha'in2 2oes on

in a !arm atmosphere, !here soul passes into soul !ithout fusion, person is lost in

person !ithout losin2 personality, and thou2ht about prayer becomes thou2ht in prayer.

The 2reatest, deepest, truest thou2ht of 8od is 2enerated in prayer, !here ri2ht thou2ht

has its essential condition in a ri2ht !ill. The state and act of true prayer contains the 'ery

substance and summit of Christian truth, !hich is al!ays there in solution, and becomes

increasin2ly e*plicit and conscious. To 2ro! in 2race is to become more understandin2 in

prayer. ?e make for the core of Christian reality and the source of Christian po!er.

Our atonement !ith 8od is the pre2nant be4all and end4all of Christian peace and life

and !hat is that atonement but the head and front of the )a'iour>s perpetual intercession,

of the outpourin2 of 0is sin4laden soul unto deathA Gnto death: That is to say, it is its

outpourin2 utterly. )o that 0is entire self4emptyin2 and 0is perfect and pre'ailin2 prayer

is one. n this intercession our best prayer, broken, soiled, and feeble as it is, is cau2ht up

and made prayer indeed and po!er !ith 8od. This intercession prays for our 'ery prayer,

and atones for the sin in it. This is prayin2 in the 0oly 8host, !hich is not necessarily a

matter either of intensity or elation. This is prayin2 @for Christ>s sake.@ f it be true that

the !hole Trinity is in the 2ospel of our sal'ation, it is also true that all theolo2y lies

hidden in the prayer !hich is our chief ans!er to the 2ospel. nd the bane of so much

theolo2y, old and ne!, is that it has been denuded of prayer and prepared in a 'acuum.

Prayer dra!s on our !hole personality and not only so, but on the !hole 8od.nd it

dra!s on a 8od !ho really comes home no!here else. 8od is here, not as a mere

presence as 0e is in #ature, nor is 0e a mere pressure as 0e closes in upon us in the

soberin2 of life. ?e do not face 0im in mere meditation, nor do !e culti'ate 0im as life>s

most 'aluable asset. =ut 0e is here as our ;o'er, our )eeker, our +isitant, our

nterlocutor 0e is our )a'iour, our Truth, our Po!er, nay, our )piritual ?orld. n this

supreme e*ercise of our personality 0e is at once our $espondent and our )piritual

Gni'erse. #othin2 but the e*perience of prayer can sol'e parado*es like these. On e'ery

other le'el they are absurd. =ut here deep ans!ers deep. 8od becomes the li'in2 truth of

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our most memorable and shapin2 e*perience, not its ob


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especially at present of our foe. #o companion of 8od can !ar in 0is name a2ainst man

!ithout much self4searchin2 and self4humiliation, ho!e'er reser'ed. =ut here humility

turns into moral stren2th.

0ere !e are also re2athered in soul from the fancies that be!ilder us and the distractions

that dissol'e us into the dust of the !orld. ?e are collected into peace and po!er andsound s shyness and aloofness in prayer. ant

!hose 2enius in this respect reflected his race/ has had an influence upon scientific

thou2ht and its efficiency far 2reater than upon reli2ion, thou2h he is !ell named thephilosopher of Protestantism. 0e represent a2ain like his race/ intellectual po!er and a

certain stiff moral insi2ht, but not spiritual atmosphere, delicacy, or fle*ibility, !hich is

rather the Catholic tradition. ntellectualism al!ays tends to more force than finish, and

al!ays star'es or per'erts ethic. nd no!here in ant>s !ork does this limitation find

such e*pression as in his treatment of prayer, unless it be in his lack of any mis2i'in2s

about treatin2 it at all !ith his euipment or the euipment of his a2e. 3'en his

successors kno! better no!44


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0e !ould think he had been disco'ered doin2 somethin2 un!orthy of his intelli2ence,

and !ould feel about it as educated people do !hen found out to be yieldin2 to a

superstition about the number thirteen.

thinker of more sympathy and delicacy !ould ha'e spoken less bluntly. Practical

e*perience !ould ha'e tau2ht him discrimination. 0e !ould ha'e reali6ed the differencebet!een shame and shyness, bet!een confusion at an un!orthy thin2 and confusion at a

thin2 too fine and sacred for e*posure. nd had his a2e allo!ed him to ha'e more

kno!led2e and taste in history, and especially the history of reli2ion, he !ould ha'e

2one, not to the co!ardice of the ordinary culti'ated man, but to the po!er and

thorou2hness of the 2reat saints or captains of the race44to Paul, to Thomas a empis, to

Crom!ell !ith his troops, or 8usta'us dolphus !ith his. do but humbly allude to

8ethsemane. =ut ant belon2ed to a time !hich had not reali6ed, as e'en our science

does no!, the final po!er of the subtler forces, and the o'er!helmin2 effect in the lon2

run of the impalpable and elusi'e influences of life. Much mi2ht be !ritten about theeffect of prayer on the 2reat history of the !orld.

Chapter Four The Timeliness of Prayer

;et him pray no! that ne'er prayed before,

nd him that prayed before but pray the more.

The nearer !e are dri'en to the 8od of Christ, the more !e are forced on parado* !hen

!e be2in to speak. ha'e been led to allude to this more than once. The agnalia deiare

not those 2reat simplicities of life on !hich some orders of 2enius lay a touch so tender

and sure but they are the 2reat reconciliations in !hich life>s tra2ic collisions come to lie

@uiet, happy and supprest.@ )uch are the peaceful parado*es the parado* at last of 2race

and nature in the Cross/ !hich make the !orld of prayer such a stran2e and difficult landto the lucid and rational interpreters of life. t is as miraculous as it is real that the holy

and the 2uilty should li'e to2ether in such habitual communion as the life of prayer. nd

it is another parado* that combines the 'ast po!er of prayer for the acti'e soul, !hether

sin2le or social, !ith the same soul>s shyness and aloofness in prayer.

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Truly the course of e'ents has been the ans!er to this uestion easier than at first. ?e are

dri'en by e'ents to belie'e that a 2reat moral blindness has befallen 8ermany that its

8od, ceasin2 to be Christian, has become but )emitic that it has lost the sense of the

2reat imponderables that the idolatry of the )tate has barrack4bound the conscience of

the Church and stilled that !itness of the kin2dom of 8od !hich beards kin2s and e'en

beheads them. ?e are forced to think that the cause of ri2hteousness has passed from its

hands !ith the passin2 from them of humanity, !ith the submersion of the idea of 8od>s

kin2dom in nationality or the cult of race, !ith the !orship of force, mammon, fri2ht, and

ruthlessness, !ith the 2ro!th of national cynicism in moral thin2s, and !ith the culture of

a !itherin2, self4searin2 hate !hich is the nemesis of mortal sin, and !hich e'en 8od

cannot use as 0e can use an2er, but must surely creed that reli2ion is, abo'e

all thin2s, an act, that !orship is the 2reatest act of !hich man is capable, and that true

!orship culminates in the supreme labour, and e'en sorro!, of real prayer. This is man at

his utmost and it has for it near nei2hbours all the 2reat thin2s that men or nations do.

=ut !hen a nation must 2o to ri2hteous !ar it embarks on one of the 'ery 2reatest acts of

its life, especially if its 'ery e*istence as a ser'ant of 8od>s kin2dom han2 on it. state of

!ar is really the 'ast and prolon2ed act of a corporate soul, !ith a number of minor acts

or2ani6ed into it. t is capable of bein2 offered to a 8od !hose kin2dom is a public

campai2n mo'in2 throu2h history, and comin2 by the faith, toil, peril, sacrifice, 2rief, and

2lory of nations, as !ell as the hearts and souls. t is not possible to separate moral acts so

2reat and solemn as the act of prayer especially common and corporate prayer/ and the

act of !ar nor to think them se'ered in the mo'ement,


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decision the hi2her !e must rise if !e are to possess and command our souls/ into the

mount of prayer, and !e must hold up the hands of those !hose chief concern is to

pre'ail !ith 8od. f !e !in !e shall ha'e a ne! sense of po!er amid all our loss and

!eakness but !hat !e shall need most of all if the po!er to use that po!er, and to

protest us from our 'ictory and its perilous seuels, !hether of pride or po'erty. nd if

!e do not !in !e shall need it more. There !ill be much to sober us either !ay, more

perhaps than e'er before in our history.

=ut that is not all, and it is not enou2h. s Christian people !e need somethin2 to

sanctify that 'ery soberin2 and to do for the ne! moral thou2htfulness itself !hat that

does for the peace4bred le'ity of the natural man. %or such a purpose there is no a2ent

like prayer44serious, thinkin2, pri'ate prayer, or prayer in 2roups, in small, 2ra'e,

con2enial, understandin2 2roups44prayer !ith the historic sense, church4nurtured and

=ible4fed. Public prayer by all means, but, apart from litur2ical form, the more open the

occasions and the lar2er the company the more hard it may be to secure for such prayerthe ri2ht circumstances or the ri2ht lead. Public facility is apt to outstrip the real intimacy

and depth !ith 8od. ?hile on the other hand, the prayer that freely rises and aptly flo!s

in our audience of 8od may be paraly6ed in an audience of men. )o that public prayer

does not al!ays reflect the practice of pri'ate petition as the po!erful factor it is in

Christian life and history. t does not al!ays su22est a door opened in hea'en, the insi2ht

or fello!ship of eternal yet historic po!ers in a!ful orbits. t does not al!ays do


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campai2n. ?hereas, if !e ha'e no such action !ith 8od, !e lose delicacy of perception

in the finer forces of affairs !e are out of touch and understandin2 !ith the final control

in thin2s, the po!er that is !orkin2 to the top al!ays !e become dense in re2ard to the

subtle but supreme influences that take the 2enerals and chancellors by surprise and !e

are at the mercy of the sleepless action of the kin2dom of e'il on the !orld. t is a fatal

thin2 to under estimate the enemy and it is in Christian prayer, seriously and amply

pursued, that the soul really learns to 2au2e e'il>s a!ful and superhuman po!er in affairs.

am speakin2 not only of the sin2le soul, perhaps at the moment not chiefly, but of the

soul and prayer of a society like the true Church or a sobered people. The real po!er of

prayer in history is not a fusillade of prayin2 units of !hom Christ is the chief, but it is

the corporate action of a )a'iour4ntercessor and 0is community, a 'olume and ener2y of

prayer or2ani6ed in a 0oly )pirit and in the Church the )pirit creates. The saints shall

thus s lar2er and more actual course. t is not a sacred enclosure, a

lod2e in some 'ast !ilderness. That is the !eak side of pietism. =ut, ho!e'er intimate, it

is in the most or2anic and 'ital conte*t of affairs, pri'ate and public, if all thin2s !ork

to2ether, deeply and afar, for the deep and final kin2dom of 8od. ts constant defeat of

our e2oism means the 'ictory of our social unity and its !eal. %or the e2oist neither prays

nor lo'es. On the other hand, such prayer recalls us from a distrau2ht altruism, teemin2

!ith oddities, and frayed do!n to atomism by the 'ariety of calls upon it because the

prayer is the supreme ener2y of a lo'in2 !ill and belie'in2 soul en2a2ed !ith the ;o'e

that binds the earth, the sun, and all the stars. )o far it is from bein2 the case that lo'e to

8od has no sphere outside lo'e to man that our lo'e to man perishes unless it is fed by

the lo'e that spends itself on 8od in prayer, and is lifted thereby to a place and a s!ay nothistoric only, but cosmic.

Our communion !ith 8od in Christ rose, and it abides, in a crisis !hich shook not the

earth only, but also hea'en, in a tra2edy and 'ictory more 'ast, a!ful, and pre2nant than

the 2reatest !ar in history could be. Therefore the prayer !hich 2i'es us an e'er4deeper

interest and surer insi2ht into that eternal moral crisis of the Cross 2i'es us also thou2h it

mi2ht take 2enerations/ a footin2 that commands all the losses or 'ictories of earth, and a

po!er that rules both spirit and conscience in the clash and crash of !orlds. s there is

de'oted thou2ht !hich plou2hs its !ay into the command of #ature, there is thou2ht, still

more de'oted, that prays itself into that moral interior of the Cross, !here the kin2dom of

8od is founded once for all on the last principle and po!er of the uni'erse, and set up,

not indeed amid the !reck of ci'ili6ation, but by its ne! birth and a baptism so as by fire.

Prayer of the ri2ht kind, !ith heart and soul and stren2th and mind, unites any society in

!hich it pre'ails !ith those last po!ers of moral and social re2eneration that settle

history and that reside in the creati'e 2race of the Cross, !hich is 8od>s true omnipotence

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in the !orld. @O 8od, !ho sho!est Thine almi2hty po!er most chiefly in ha'in2 mercy

and for2i'in2.@ )uch speech as this may to some appear tall and rhetorical but it !ould

ha'e so seemed to no father of the church, ancient or modern, takin2 apostolic measure of

the place and moment of Christ in society, history, or the uni'erse.

f !ar is in any sense 8od>s s !ill, ho!

much more free to turn it or to accept it: Petitionary prayer is man>s cooperation in kind

!ith 8od amidst a !orld 0e freely made for freedom. The !orld !as made by a freedom

!hich not only left room for the kindred freedom of prayer, but !hich so ordered all

thin2s in its o!n interest that in their deepest depths they conspire to produce prayer. To

pray in faith is to ans!er 8od>s freedom in its o!n 2reat note. t means !e are taken up

into the fundamental mo'ement of the !orld. t is to reali6e that for !hich the !hole

!orld, the !orld as a !hole, !as made. t is an earnest of the !orld>s consummation. ?e


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are doin2 !hat the !hole !orld !as created to do. ?e o'erleap in the spirit all bet!een

no! and then, as in the return to Fesus !e o'erleap the t!o thousand years that inter'ene.

The obs lo'in2 purpose had in appointin2 the !hole pro'idential order !as

intercourse !ith man>s soul. That order of the !orld is, therefore, no ri2id fi*ture, nor is it

e'en a fated e'olution. t is elastic, ads makin2 itself 2ood.?hen !e entreat !e 2i'e effect to 0is dearest !ill. nd in 0is !ill is our eternal liberty.

n this !ill of 0is our finds itself, and is at home. t ran2es the liberties of the %ather>s

house. =ut here prayer must dra! from the Cross, !hich is the frontal act of our

emancipation as !ell as the central re'elation of 8od>s o!n freedom in 2race. The action

of the tonement and of its release of us is in the nature of prayer. t is the free return of

the 0oly upon the 0oly in the 8reat $econciliation.

. Then, secondly, as to prayer bein2 the e*pression of the perennial ne! life of faith in

the Cross. The Christian life is prayer !ithout ceasin2.

?hen !e are told to pray !ithout ceasin2, it seems to many tastes to4day to be some!hat

e*tra'a2ant lan2ua2e. nd no doubt that is true. ?hy should !e be concerned to deny itA

Measured lan2ua2e and the ele2ant mean is not the note of the #e! Testament at least.

, said the 8reek44too much of nothin2. =ut can !e lo'e or trust 8od too

muchA Christian faith is one that o'ercomes and commands the !orld in a passion ratherthan balances it. t triumphs in a conclusi'e bliss, it does not play off one part a2ainst

another. The 2race of Christ is not but 2raciousness of nature, and 0e does not rule 0is

Church by social act. The peace of 8od is not the calm of culture, it is not the charm of

breedin2. 3'ery 2reat for!ard mo'ement in Christianity is associated !ith much that

seems academically e*tra'a2ant. 3rasmus is al!ays shocked !ith ;uther. t is only an

outlet of that essential e*tra'a2ance !hich makes the parado* of the Cross, and keeps it

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as the irritant, no less than the life of the !orld44perhaps because it is the life of the

!orld. There is nothin2 so abnormal, so un!orldly, so supernatural, in human life as

prayer, nothin2 that is more of an instinct, it is true, but also nothin2 that is less rational

amon2 all the thin2s that keep abo'e the le'el of the silly. The !hole Christian life in so

far as it is li'ed from the Cross and by the Cross is rationally an e*tra'a2ance. %or the

Cross is the parado* of all thin2s and the action of the )pirit is the 2reatest miracle in the

!orld and yet it is the principle of the !orld. Parado* is but the e*pression of that

dualism !hich is the moral foundation of a Christian !orld. li'e !ho die daily. li'e

another>s life.

To pray !ithout ceasin2 is not, of course, to en2a2e in prayer !ithout break. That is an

impossible literalism. True, @They rest not day and ni2ht, sayin2, 0oly, holy, holy, ;ord

8od lmi2hty, !ho !ert, and art, and art to come.@ =ut it is mere po'erty of soul to think

of this as the iteration of a do*olo2y. t is deep callin2 unto deep, eternity 2reetin2

eternity. The only ans!er to 8od>s eternity is an eternal attitude of prayer.#or does the phrase mean that the Church shall use careful means that the stream and

sound of prayer shall ne'er cease to flo! at some spots of the earth, as the altar lamp

2oes not out. t does not mean the continuous murmur of the mass follo!in2 the sun

round the !orld, incessant relays of adorin2 priests, and functions 2oin2 on day and

ni2ht.

=ut it means the constant bent and drift of the soul44as the ?ord !hich !as from the

be2innin2 Fohn i. 1/ !as . ll the current of its bein2 set to!ards 0im. t

means bein2 @in Christ,@ bein2 in such a mo'in2, returnin2 Christ44reposin2 in this

2od!ard, and not merely 2odlike life. The note of prayer becomes the habit of the heart,

the tone and tension of its ne! nature in such a !ay that !hen !e are released from the

2rasp of our occupations the soul rebounds to its true bent, uest, and e'en pressure upon

8od. t is the soul>s habitual appetite and habitual food. 2ro!in2 child of 8od is al!ays

hun2ry. Prayer is not identical !ith the occasional act of prayin2. ;ike the act of faith, it

is a !hole life thou2ht of as action. t is the life of faith in its purity, in its 'ital action.

3atin2 and speakin2 are necessary to life, but they are not li'in2. nd ho! hidden prayer

may be44beneath e'en 2aiety: f you look do!n on Portland $ace you see but a shinin2

sea only the pilot kno!s the tremendous current that per'ades the smilin2 calm.

)o far this @pray !ithout ceasin2@ from bein2 absurd because e*tra'a2ant that e'ery

man>s life is in some sense a continual state of prayer. %or !hat is his life>s prayer but its

rulin2 passionA ll ener2ies, ambitions and passions are but e*pressions of a standin2

nisus in life, of a hun2er, a draft, a practical demand upon the future, upon the unattained

and the unseen. 3'ery life is a draft upon the unseen. f you are not prayin2 to!ards 8od

you are to!ards somethin2 else. Dou pray as your face is set44to!ards Ferusalem or

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=abylon. The 'ery e2otism of cra'in2 life is prayer. The 2reat difference is the obs %ntweder-Oder!hich, if !e

transfer it to this connection, stirs thou2hts deeper than its o!n tra2edy. The seduced,

heart4broken, !rites to the seducer.

@Fohn: do not say my Fohn. That no! see you ne'er !ere. am hea'ily punished for

e'er lettin2 such an idea be my


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nd prayer is our hea'en. t 2oes home to 8od, and attains there, and rests there. ?e are

@in Christ,@ !hose !hole e*istence is prayer, !ho is !holly for us. 0e is

there to e*tin2uish our hell and make our hea'en44far more to uench our !rath and our

seethin2 than 8od>s.

To culti'ate the ceaseless spirit of prayer, use more freuent acts of prayer. To learn topray !ith freedom, force yourself to pray. The 2reat liberty be2ins in necessity.

Eo not say, @ cannot pray, am not in the spirit.@ Pray till you are in the spirit. Think of

analo2ies from lo!er le'els. )ometimes !hen you need rest most you are too restless to

lie do!n and take it. Then compel yourself to lie do!n, and to lie still. Often in ten

minutes the compulsion fades into consent, and you sleep, and rise a ne! man.

2ain, it is often hard enou2h to take up the task !hich in half an hour you en


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prayer !ill be understood Matt. 'i. (/. t !ill be taken up into the intercession of the

)pirit stripped of its dross, its inadeuacy made 2ood, and presented as prayer should be.

That is prayin2 in the 0oly 8host. ?here should you carry your burden but to the %ather,

!here Christ took the burden of all the !orldA ?e tell 8od, the heart searcher, our hea'y

thou2hts to escape from broodin2 o'er them. @?hen my spirit !as o'er!helmed !ithin

me, Thou kne!est my path.@ Ps. c*lii. /. )o Paul says the )pirit intercedes for us and

2i'es our broken prayer di'ine effect $om. 'iii. "-/. To be sure of 8od>s sympathy is to

be inspired to prayer, !here 0is mere kno!led2e !ould crush it. There is no father !ho

!ould be satisfied that his son should take e'erythin2 and ask for nothin2. t !ould be

thankless. To cease askin2 is to cease to be 2rateful. nd !hat kills petition kills praise.

8o into your chamber, shut the door, and culti'ate the habit of prayin2 audibly. ?rite

prayers and burn them. %ormulate your soul. Pay no attention to literary form, only to

spiritual reality. $ead a passa2e of )cripture and then sit do!n and turn it into prayer,

!ritten or spoken. ;earn to be particular, specific, and detailed in your prayer so lon2 asyou are not tri'ial. 8eneral prayers, literary prayers, and stately phrases are, for pri'ate

prayer, traps and sops to the soul. To formulate your soul is one 'aluable means to escape

formali6in2 it. This is the best, the !holesome, kind of self4e*amination. )peakin2 !ith

8od disco'ers us safely to oursel'es ?e @find@ oursel'es, come to oursel'es, in the

)pirit. %ace your special !eaknesses and sins before 8od. %orce yourself to say to 8od

e*actly !here you are !ron2. ?hen anythin2 2oes !ron2, do not ask to ha'e it set ri2ht,

!ithout askin2 in prayer !hat is !as in you that made it 2o !ron2. t is some!hat

fruitless to ask for a 2eneral 2race to help specific fla!s, sins, trials, and 2riefs. ;et prayer

be concrete, actual, a direct product of life>s real e*periences. Pray as your actual self, not

as some fancied saint. ;et it be closely rele'ant to your real situation. Pray !ithout

ceasin2 in this sense. Pray !ithout a break bet!een your prayer and your life. Pray so that

there is a real continuity bet!een your prayer and your !hole actual life. =ut !ill bear

round upon this point a2ain immediately.

Meantime, let me say this. Eo not allo! your practice in prayer to be arrested by

scientific or philosophic considerations as to ho! ans!er is possible. That is a 'aluable

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the prayerful frame of soul. )o a2ain !ith 8od>s freedom. t is absolute. =ut it reckons on

ours. Our prayer does not force 0is hand it ans!ers 0is freedom in kind. ?e are ne'er

so acti'e and free as in prayer to an absolutely free 8od. ?e share 0is freedom !hen !e

are @in Christ.@

f must choose bet!een Christ, !ho bids me pray for e'erythin2, and the ser'ant, !hotells me certain ans!ers are physically and rationally impossible, must not choose

ChristA =ecause, !hile the sa'ant kno!s much about nature and its action and much

more than Christ did/, Christ kne! e'erythin2 about the 8od of nature and 0is reality. 0e

kne! more of !hat is possible to 8od than anybody has e'er kno!n about !hat is

possible in nature. On such a subs methods, and kno!s them but in

part. Prayer is not an act of kno!led2e but of faith. t is not a matter of calculation but of

confidence44@that our faith should not stand in the !isdom of men, but in the po!er of

8od.@ ?hich means that in this re2ion !e are not to be re2ulated by science, but by 8od>sself4re'elation. Eo not be so timid about prayin2 !ron2ly if you pray humbly. f 8od is

really the %ather that Christ re'ealed, then the principle is44take e'erythin2 to 0im that

e*ercises you. part from fri'olity, such as prayin2 to find the stud you lost, or the knife,

or the umbrella, there is really no limitation in the #e! Testament on the contents of

petition. ny re2ulation is as to the spirit of the prayer, the faith it sprin2s from. n all

distress !hich mars your peace, petition must be the form your faith takes44petition for

rescue. eep close to the #e! Testament Christ, and then ask for anythin2 you desire in

that contact. sk for e'erythin2 you can ask in Christ>s name, i.e. e'erythin2 desirable by

a man !ho is in Christ>s kin2d

forsyth p t the soul of prayer

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