unto Thee, O Thou most Highest; he will continue to tell of Thy loving-kindness early in the morning, and of thy truth in the night-season.'

Our reluctant devotions may remind us of the remark of a certain great political wit, who apologized for his late attendance in Parliament by his being detained while a party of soldiers were dragging a volunteer to his duty. How many excuses do we find for not being in time! How many apologies for brevity! How many evasions for neglect! How unwilling, too often, are we to come into the divine presence, how reluctant to remain in it? Those hours which are least valuable for business, which are least seasonable for pleasure, we commonly give to religion. Our energies which were so exerted in the society we have just

quitted, are sunk as we approach the divine presence. Our hearts, which were all alacrity in some frivolous conversation, become cold and inanimate, as if it were the natural property of devotion to freeze the affections. Our animal spirits, which so readily performed their functions before, now slacken their vigor and lose their vivacity. The sluggish body sympathizes with the unwilling mind, and each promotes the deadness of the other; both are slow in listening to the call of duty; both are soon weary in performing it. As prayer requires all the energies of the compound being of man, so we too often feel as if there were a conspiracy of body, soul, and spirit, to decline and disqualify us for it.

To be deeply impressed with a few fun

damental truths, to digest them thoroughly, to meditate on them seriously, to pray over them fervently, to get them deeply rooted in the heart, will be more productive of faith and holiness than to labor after variety, ingenuity, or elegance. The indulgence of imagination will rather distract than edify. Searching after ingenious thoughts will rather divert the attention. from God to ourselves, than promote fixedness of thought, singleness of intention, and devotedness of spirit. Whatever is subtle and refined, is in danger of being unscriptural. If we do not guard the mind, it will learn to wander in quest of novelties. It will set more value on original thoughts than devout affections. It is the business of prayer to cast down imaginations which gratify the natural activity of

the mind, while they leave the heart unhumbled.

We should confine ourselves to the present business of the present moment; we should keep the mind in a state of perpetual dependance. "Now is the accepted time." "To-day we must hear his voice." "Give us this day our daily bread." The manna will not keep till to-morrow: tomorrow will have its own wants, and must have its own petitions. To-morrow we must seek the bread of heaven afresh.

We should, however, avoid coming to our devotions with unfurnished minds. We should be always laying in materials for prayer, by a diligent course of serious reading, by treasuring up in our minds the most important truths, and by a careful and solemn self-examination. If we rush into

the divine presence with a vacant, or ignorant, or unprepared mind, with a heart filled with the world; as we shall feel no disposition or qualification for the work we are about to engage in, so we cannot expect that our petitions will be heard or granted. There must be some congruity between the heart and the object, some affinity between the state of our minds and the business in which they are employed, if we would expect success in the work.

We are often deceived both as to the principle and the effect of our prayers. When from some external cause the heart is glad, the spirits light, the thoughts reasonable, the tongue voluble, a kind of spontaneous eloquence is the result; with this we are pleased, and this ready flow we are ready to impose on ourselves for piety.