CHAPTER XXII. Be Prayerful

BE PRAYERFUL

A noble characteristic of any boy is love for prayer. Too many consider common amusements more important than going to some chamber or church to commune with the loving Saviour. They are not. The former bring transient happiness and with it a weary frame, the latter an unexplained peace, rest of body and soul. The former gratifies for a time without changing selfish desires or promoting lofty aspirations, the latter moulds into the image of the Christ-character.

Prayer is not simply a petition or mere forms of a vain repetition. It is a turning of the life toward God, an opening of the soul toward heaven, a reaching out of one’s being with desire to appropriate the Divine. It was a shoemaker’s shop, with bench, half-worn shoes and not a few boxes. The proprietor was an old friend of the writer, so deaf that few could converse with him. Visiting the village in which he lived, I called upon him. After a chat by means of the lips, signs and paper, he asked if I would like to hear his son play the harp. Assenting, he called the lad, who brought a beautiful instrument. Placing his feet on the pedals, he ran his fingers over the wires and melodious music resounded. When it stopped, I turned to the old man, and asked by signs: “Did you hear it?” Shaking his head, he answered, “Not a note.” Then stepping to the stove, he picked up a long black poker, and putting one end between his teeth and the other on the harp, he motioned the boy to play. The lad’s fingers moved as if by magic. The room was flooded with music and passing pedestrians stopped to listen. Suddenly the musician stopped. I propounded the same question: “Did you hear anything?” He laughed and answered: “All that you heard, I heard.” How? That dirty poker was changed into a conductor of sound. It brought harp and listener in contact with each other. In like manner prayer brings God and petitioner into near relation. What one pleads, the other hears, and answering, God makes music in the soul.

GREAT MEN GREAT IN PRAYING.

Many great men have been great in praying. Men of the Bible, men of science, history and influence have been firm believers in it. Charles Simeon and Joseph Alleine spent from four to eight o’clock in the morning waiting upon God. Wesley gave two hours a day, Luther the first three hours. Samuel Rutherford was up at three in the morning to give God praise. Archbishop Leighton was so much alone with God that he seemed to be in a perpetual meditation. Bishop Ken was so much alone with God, that his soul was said to be God-enamored. David Brainerd prayed hour after hour. John Fletcher spent whole nights in prayer, John Welsh often seven to eight hours a day. When the hour for devotion arrived, General Gordon displayed a white handkerchief outside his tent, and as long as it remained, no one was allowed to disturb him. General Stonewall Jackson’s servant used to say that when his master got up several times during the night to pray there was to be a battle next day. Abraham Lincoln acknowledged that he had been driven to his knees “by the overwhelming conviction that he had nowhere else to go.” Gathering his pupils about him at the opening of his school, Agassiz said, “It is becoming that we first of all bow in the presence of the Infinite One.” Well might these exclaim with thousands of others: “For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Eph. 3:14).

PRAYER MAKES A BOY BRAVE.

During the Civil War a dozen soldiers were playing cards one night when one exclaimed: “What on earth was that?” Listening attentively a moment, he heard a low, solemn voice, coming from the next tent, occupied by several recruits, who had that day arrived in camp. Accompanied by the others he approached the tent on tip-toe. “Boys, he’s praying, or I’m a sinner!” he roared out. “Three cheers for the parson!” shouted another man of the group as the prayer ended. “You watch things for three weeks. I’ll show you how to take the religion out of him,” said the first speaker, laughing. He was a large burly fellow, prominent in mischief. The recruit was a slight, pale-faced boy. During the next three weeks the latter was the butt of the camp. Then several of the boys, conquered by the lad’s gentle patience and uniform kindness, begged the others to stop annoying him. “Oh, the little ranter is no better than the rest of us!” answered the ringleader. “When we get under fire, you’ll see him run. These pious folk don’t like the smell of gunpowder. I’ve no faith in their religion.”

In a few weeks, the regiment broke camp, marched toward Richmond, entered the Wilderness and engaged in that fearful battle. The company to which the young recruit belonged had a desperate struggle. The brigade was driven back, and when the line was formed behind the breastworks they had built in the morning, he was missing. When last seen, he was surrounded by enemies, fighting desperately. At his side was the brave fellow who had made the poor lad a constant object of ridicule. Both were given up as lost. Suddenly the big man was seen tramping through the underbrush, bearing the dead body of the boy. Reverently he laid the corpse down, saying as he wiped the blood from his own face: “Boys, I couldn’t leave him behind, he fought so. I thought he deserved a decent burial.”

During a lull in the battle the men dug a shallow grave and tenderly laid him to rest. Then, as one was cutting the name and regiment upon a board, the big man said, with a husky voice, “I guess you’d better put the words ‘Praying soldier’ in somewhere. He deserves the title, and maybe it’ll console him for our abuse.”

There was not a dry eye among those rough men as they stuck the rudely carved board at the head of the grave. “Well,” said one, “he was a praying Christian soldier if ever there was one! And,” turning to the ringleader, “he didn’t run, did he, when he smelt gunpowder?” “Run!” answered the big man, his voice tender with emotion. “Why, he didn’t budge an inch! But what’s that to standing for weeks our fire like a man, and never sending a word back! He just stood by his flag and let us pepper him, he did; and boys, I have made up my mind if prayer will make a man as bold, as loving, as forgiving, as good, as it did that boy, I’m going to resort to it. It did him good and it’ll do me good,” and as the other fellows bent their heads he prayed for forgiveness and salvation, at the close of which the others said, “Amen!”

HOW TO PRAY.

Prayer is a blessed privilege, a vital necessity, an imperative duty, but many there are who do not know how to pray. A mere repetition of words or reading prayers is not prayer. Prayer may be a sigh, a tear, a groan, a bungling utterance, “a true wish” as Phillips Brooks used to say, “sent God-ward.” It is—

“the soul’s sincere desire Uttered or unexpressed. The motive of a hidden fire That kindles in the breast.”

Prayer should always be accompanied by thanksgiving and confession. David said, “I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord,” (Psalm 32:5) and Paul exhorts, “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Eph. 5:20). Prayer should be offered in faith. Faith is taking one at his word and thus Christ said, “If ye ask anything in My name, I will do it.” (John 14:14). To pray without faith, the Bible informs us, is sin, and this is the reason why many of our petitions are not answered. They are like those blossoms which fall blasted to the earth. They had a certain beauty and fragrance, but for want of some conformity to the law of growth, they never developed into fruit. They are, as Mrs. Stowe says, “drowsy mutterings of unawakened souls, talking in their sleep.” But real prayer is always answered. There may be delays as in Daniel’s petition, or tests to strengthen faith, as when Jesus said to Jairus, “Fear not, only believe,” (Luke 8:50) for what Christ has promised, He will certainly perform.

WHEN AND WHERE TO PRAY.

Prayer should be our vital breath. As with Paul, it should be “without ceasing,” (Thess. 5:17) our inward desire continually going up to God. It should be the first exercise of the morning and the last in the evening. “It is the first hour of the morning,” says a Chinese proverb, “that gives color to all the others that follow.” Louis XIV. was awakened every morning with the words: “Arise, Monsieur, you have great things to do to-day.” But how could they be done properly without God’s blessing, and how could God’s blessing be secured without asking? When Arthur P. Stanley the first night went to the dormitory at Eton School where he with others had to sleep, he knelt down to say his evening prayers. Instantly a shower of pillows and shoes flew about him. He prayed on. “Stanley,” said one of the boys next day, “I ought to have done as you did. I haven’t said my prayers at night because I was afraid of the ridicule of the boys.” It was not long before a score of them followed his example. President Garfield when a boy undertook with a number of students from Williams College to climb Mount Greylock. Their plan was to spend the night on the mount. Seated around the campfire they sang college songs and told stories all the evening. At bedtime Garfield took a Testament from his pocket and said: “Boys, it is my custom to read a chapter in the Bible and have prayer before going to bed. Shall we have it all together?” and though it seemed rather hard to do, Garfield did it and all were blessed for it.

Two places are mentioned in the Scriptures where a boy should pray. Those places are the Christian’s arsenal. One is the secret chamber where communion is sweet because undisturbed, the other is the church, where in unity believers call upon God. To the devout boy both are the “Holy of Holies” where God delights to meet him at the “Mercy Seat.” Blessed is the place of public prayer! Never neglect it. But the place of secret prayer is still more blessed. Cyprian would resort to a shady arbor where “no profane listener may hinder my musings, and no domestic clamor drown them.” Robert Murray McCheyne declared, “It is my noblest and most fruitful employment.” Henry Martyn mourned at the close of his saintly life, that he had devoted “too much time to public works and too little to private communion with God.” God said, “In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.” (Isa. 30:15).

O, the sweetness of one hour at the feet of Jesus. It changes dispositions, purifies character, overcomes obstacles, imparts strength to resist temptations, yes, it makes life worth living.

“We kneel, and all around us seems to lower; We rise, and all, the distant and the near, Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear; We kneel, how WEAK! we rise, how full of POWER!”

WHAT PRAYER WILL DO.

More things are wrought by prayer than anything else. It opens heaven’s door, commands God’s ears to hear and hand to bestow, makes darkened clouds withdraw, climbs—

“the ladder Jacob saw, Gives exercise to faith and love; Brings every blessing from above.”

Prayer has brought rain a thousand times since Elijah prayed, softened kings’ hearts since Nehemiah won the sympathy of Artaxerxes, shut lions’ mouths since Daniel was cast into their den, given victory to armies since Amalek was discomfited, liberated captives since Peter was delivered from prison, abated storms since Christ said to wind and wave: “Peace! be still,” (Mark 4:39) arrested hundreds of prodigals since Monica prayed for her wicked son Augustine, restored health, supplied food, transformed lives and revolutionized nations.

Prayer is the means that aids to keep in subjection the sinful tendencies of human nature and though living in the world keeps us separated from it. It is the means to aid us in winning souls for Jesus. John Wesley was once riding along when he saw a man kneeling by the wayside breaking stones. “Ah,” cried he, “I wish I could break the hearts of some who hear me as easily as you are breaking those stones.” The man looked up and said, “Did you ever try to break them on your knees?” Pleading with God should always precede pleading with souls to come to God, and it is a question whether anyone has ever come to God who was not earnestly prayed for by some one.

Prayer will also make a death-bed glorious. “Yea,” saith the Psalmist, “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.” (Psalm 23:4). A boy was dying at midnight. He had just awakened from sleep. “Is it near morning?” he asked his father. “It soon will be,” replied the parent. “Do you think I will get well?” “I hope so,” sobbed the father. There was a long silence, then the lad moved restlessly on the pillow and said, “Hold me up, father, I want to say my prayers.” Then, clasping his hands together, he repeated: “Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come. Thy kingdom come. I can’t remember, father! I can’t remember!” A short time after the morning light stole into the room. “Forever and forever,” uttered the boy and he fell asleep in death.

O, my boy, cultivate this glorious habit of praying. To be intimately acquainted with God cheers, inspires, ennobles. An old man lay dying. His sons stood around his bed to receive his parting counsel, and his last blessing. He had fought the battle of life successfully; and, so far as this world was concerned, had come out crowned with honors. He had been a pillar in the church; his seat had never been vacant, his hand always freely opened to every call. For months he had been laid aside by a lingering and painful illness. “Boys,” he said, “God has been good to me. He has given me many friends, good children, a loving wife, and abundant means; but what I thank Him for now most of all is this long and painful illness. Without it my life would have been a failure; I should have gone hence without knowing as I should the only One worth knowing. Boys, whatever you do or whatever you leave undone, whether you make another cent of money or not, take time to get acquainted with God.” That’s it. So acquainted with Him that with simple words you can breathe your heart’s desire. So acquainted as to talk with Him the first thing in the morning and the last in the evening. So acquainted as to seek His favor in everything and to praise Him for anything.

“Implore His aid, in His decisions rest, Secure, what’er He gives, He gives the best.”