universal in its adaptation and bestowals. It is the open fount which cries, “Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye, and drink.”
Prayer to a personal God affects the sick like a drug, that has no efficacy of its own, but borrows its power from human faith and belief. The drug does nothing, because it has no intelligence. It is faith, not Divine Principle, that causes a drug to apparently heal the sick.
A wordy prayer may afford a sense of quiet and self-justification, though it makes the sinner a hypocrite. We never need despair of an honest heart; but there is little hope for those who only come spasmodically face to face with their wickedness, and always seek to hide it.
Such prayers are indexes which do not correspond with the contents of character. They hold secret fellowship with sin. Such hypocrites are spoken of by Jesus as “whited sepulchres, full of uncleanness.”
If a man, of much apparent fervor and many prayers, is sensual and insincere, what must be the unfavorable comment upon him? If he had reached the altitude of his prayer, such a comment would not be made. If we feel the aspiration, humility, gratitude, and love that our words express, this is enough; and it is wise not to try to deceive ourselves or others, for “nothing is hid that shall not be revealed.” Professions and prayers, I regret to say, “cover a multitude of sins.”
Christians rejoice in secret beauty and bounty, hidden from the world, but known to God. Self-forgetfulness, purity, and love are constant prayers. Practice, not profession, — understanding, not belief, — gain the ear and right hand of Omnipotence, and they assuredly call down
