Page images
PDF
EPUB

barely weak or sickly, or even partly dead, but dead really, completely dead.

The instability and misery of man, shows his need of the Holy Spirit's influence. Man is unstable in his views and sentiments. He may change his religion a thousand times, and his religion may not change him to purpose. He may be converted from a Pagan to a Mahometan; from a Papist to a Protestant; from a Churchman to a Dissenter; from Calvinism to Arminianism, and from Arminianism to Calvinism again; from Arminian to Arian; from Arian to Socinian; from Socinian to Moravian; from Moravian to Quaker; from a Quaker to a Deist; and from thence to an Atheist. Thus, poor fallen Adam, wanders from error to error; from error to truth, and from truth to error again; but without the Holy Spirit: through all his turns, his whole life is but one uninterrupted motion from God. Thus, unstable as water, man cannot excel. In all the travels of his mind, after happiness, he is disappointed and tired with the levity and fickleness of his own soul, but not tired of it. No sentiments or notions he possesses can remove his guilt, expel his corruption, conquer Satan, satisfy his conscience, succour him in trial, or comfort him in death. No view, even of the truths of God, without the Spirit of God, can do this. He flies from one created good to another, and is jaded in the pursuit, and vexed in the end. He meets no real satisfaction; he knows none but creature objects; and is without God. Every new object, because new, catches his mind: he vainly graps it, not for its real worth, but its novelty, which flies from him, by being possessed. From cistern to cistern, creature to creature, and thing to thing, he tries himself to prove, that miserable comforts are they all! His mind, like Cain, is a fugitive and vagabond on the earth.

"Toss'd to and fro, his passions fly

From vanity to vanity."

No. IV..

REMARKS ON PRAYER.

I OFTEN find the exercise of the gift of prayer, without the evident exercise of grace. Invention, memory, matter and method; without life, love, joy, or sorrow. Indeed, gifts are deceiving in this particular, for if we find ideas flow with ease, expressed with propriety and liberty, we may be pleased and charmed with our own performance; when, alas! it may prove a carnal joy in the exercise of a spiritual gift. This self-complacency is a dead calm. This joy is "a fool's paradise." The first temptation will show, that mere gifts

have rather strengthened than weakened corruption. The soul is not "alive unto God;" but to itself.

I have often exercised grace, without gifts. The spirit has been solemn; it has felt its necessities, and expressed them in fervent desires, deep groans, plain and earnest requests. In such moments, nothing but God, and its errand to the throne, engross the thoughts. The soul forgets language, method, and all mere circumstantials; and loses itself in approaching God. I have often rejected such prayers; because I have struggled with unbelief, my own sins and unworthiness. My thoughts have been broken, and my heart heavy. My whole soul seemed to go forth with a sentence, and then pause -lost in views of my own vileness, God's excellence, the imperfections of my prayers, and fears of not being heard. I have risen from my knees; cherished desponding thoughts; doubted of my conversion, and feared I possessed, nothing but resolutions of seeking God; better in future. Alas! thought I, my religion seems for ever in prospect. It is always future. I am then ready to turn to the saints, and enquire of them, whether their souls ever felt and feared, rose and sunk, as mine did. And being little acquainted with Christian experience, I generally thought my own singular, and believed, if I met with the least saint, I was less a saint than he.

When both gifts and grace are in exercise, in prayer, it is pleasant to us, as well as acceptable to God:-the soul will be humbled and encouraged; reproved and excited. When I have found little comfort in prayer, I have found much after it: which teaches me that duty and happiness in this world, are distinct things, and separable things too, to a certain degree, although the contrary is often asserted. I do grant, and will contend, that duty and happiness are inseparable in the issues of things: but a creature may discharge a duty, in agony of body and mind, and receive a consequent happiness through it. This is, at once, to maintain the divine sovereignty, and encourage the creature, in submission to it.

At one time, the length of prayer was an object with me, which was occasioned by a legal spirit, cherished by legal preaching. The ministers would ask, "if you are not able to pray in your closet for an hour, or half an hour, how would you bear heaven?" I was a "novice," and could not see through such legal sophistry; but I was a sincere novice, and therefore felt considerable distress, that my gift in prayer was so small, that I could not pray three minutes without repeating the lines, "Take my poor heart, &c." I have looked at my watch when my prayer has been finished, and found that I had prayed for ten or fifteen minutes; but feared I could not be a child of God, because I could not do as the ministers said, did, viz. pray for half an hour together. I have since known the pleasure and advantage of spreading my requests before God, for half an hour, and more: but millions of Christians may leave the world who never did.

It is the province of ministers to explain, illustrate, and enforce divine

law; but they arrogate when they give law. My own experience, in this, teaches me that young converts, being more ignorant than old ones, and equally sincere, should not be "made sad." A babe can neither reason, talk, walk, or work like a young man, or a father. Ministers err, when they set up their present and experienced views for a standard to young converts. They must look back, and compare the heart of a babe with a babe; one young man's experience with another; and one father with another. Otherwise, through "unskilfulness in the word of righteousness" and Satan's temptations, many will weep when they should be glad; and others presume when they should tremble. This is an error of many old Christians; they despise the broken language of a soul, whose views are obscure, whose gifts are small; but whose hearts are sincere in their attachment to Christ. Such forget that they, themselves, were once the "lambs" of Christ's flock. And ministers forget that Jesus hath said, "feed my lambs." Feed them; not starve and terrify them. Such a conduct is of evil tendency, as many young converts will judge that minister inaccessible, whose preaching is discouraging to the weak; and if the deacons and members of a church are of this spirit, what timid soul would venture to relate their experience to a people or minister who, they believe, would despise or reject it? Does not such a conduct keep many from the Lord's supper? A woman, some time since, requested the liberty of receiving the Lord's supper with the people to whom a certain minister was preaching; with a stern countenance, the good man looked at her and asked, What do you know about the Lord's supper? Let us hear what you have got to say for yourself? The woman being timid, trembled at his presence; and, through fear, was disabled from speaking." Go home, go home, good woman, and learn a little of the design of the Lord's supper, before vou think of coming to me again." The woman returned, went to a friend, (a sensible friend of mine in town) and, in inexpressible concern, related her sad tale. "Fear not, said my friend, stay till such an evening, and good old Mr. **** will be there; go to him, he will not treat you so."-She accordingly went again, the minister of Jesus mildly addressed her; "well, good woman, so the Lord Jesus has done something for youhas he? Well, and how did the Lord bring salvation to your soul ?" Encouraged by his aspect and address, she gave him her simple and satisfying narrative-was admitted to the table, and is a worthy communicant.

If long prayers are indiscriminately enforced, it tends to make. the minister's character, as a preacher; to discourage some from prayer, and to lead the babes in Christ into bondage. In this instance they do not "magnify their office;" but degrade it. but degrade it. I used to judge of the acceptableness of iny prayers by the joy I found in them; and by the ready expression of my thoughts. This I understood to mean, "liberty in prayer." If I found this, it was enough.

I have observed

But since I have otherwise "learned Christ." many pray loud and long. They have had a ready expression, a variety of subjects, and went over them with a fervour which occasioned the most evident and plentiful perspiration. This has been called liberty, and a great gift. Here, cries one, is a clear head and a warm heart. But, sad to relate, I have observed, in the same persons, a liberty of being habitually dishonest, and of warming their hearts very often with "liquor in excess." Some have this liberty who are covetous, unjust, overbearing and censorious. But though such persons may have an ideal Christ, they are not united tothe Christ of God." But now I find my spiritual liberty, of believing in Jesus, and walking with God, to be independent of my gifts. And if I feel joy in my addresses to God, I am thankful; if not, I feel a satisfaction in the honour of having regarded the divine will, and of the acceptance of my requests, through Jesus. Here I leave my poor prayers, before the throne, in the hands of a mediator; through whom "the prayers of all saints," though not all the prayers of saints, are acceptable. If my prayers are imperfect, his are prevalent; if I am unworthy, "worthy is the Lamb!" I find, by experience, that when my prayers are short and frequent, I am most happy. A disposition to "continue instant in prayer," through the day, is a frame of mind, without which I am never at liberty.

Some things which I have least suspected have proved my greatest hindrances to prayer. And I am sure, whatever they are, they are worthy of serious consideration; and this is one method in which the heart discovers its deceit. With pleasure I have resolved I would pray, and broke my resolution by believing I could not. My idea of prayer always exceeds my experience, when actually engaged in it. This may be owing to our thinking with more ease than we speak. We are limited in thought to sensible images of spiritual things: but we often think more clearly than we express our thoughts, and yet judge of our prayers by our present words, rather than our former thoughts. Words often help me, by impressing my own thoughts upon my mind; but they often hinder me, by lowering my conceptions. I can never clearly express what I cannot clearly think of; but I often think of an object with clearness and pleasure, which I cannot so express. Besides, in imagining how pleasant and noble an act prayer must be, I am often deceived; for the idea in the mind is full, like a complete picture to the eye; but to give a full description of that picture by words, is not so easy. I sometimes realize myself, as in another world, to be prostrate before God, with eyes fixed, with hands joined, and pointed to the throne of God. Every feature speaks, and indicates a soul pouring forth its desires to God. The image in the mind is full, as a picture would strike the eye; but when I approach the throne, I am so unlike the being I had in my mind, that I am disheartened;

and seldom does my experience come up to my idea of communion with God.. Alas! when I compare my ideas of prayer, and when my aims in prayer are brought together, how far my experience comes short! As, when I look at a picture representing Samuel at prayer, I have a general idea of a soul all devotion; but I do not see represented those conflicts, fears, hopes, joys, dejection, and anxiety, which I feel in my own breast. The picture seems like the prayer of innocence; but mine are the prayers of a sinner :—a sinner who, in his devotions, finds variations of frame, like days in April. Now I seem to rise, and all is clear before my believing soul; then all is clouded. Now I am sure; then I doubt. One moment I am all earnestness, and the next I am more inclined to wish prayer over. Whence all this? From "sin that dwelleth in me." Ah!" when I would do good, evil is present with me:" it is always present, but not always so manifest and operative as then. Then we discover most of that evil which seemed dead, when we did not actually oppose it; but awaked, as from sleep, when vigorously opposed. To hear a minister speak highly of prayer, as an unutterable privilege, and to experience it so, are not both alike easy. We may think, hear, and speak of prayer, in a manner which may charm another, and lead them to suppose we pray as we speak of prayer. But, alas! to pray, what is it? To groan under a burden and sigh for deliverance. I desire and ask for mercy with an earnestness which no words can express, joined with grief that I cannot pray more earnestly. It is to wrestle with God! with faith, fervour, and agony-to wait upon God, and for him-to request and plead with hope and fear, joy and sorrow; weakness and strength; disappointment and success. But who can describe a soul in all its various emotions at the throne of grace? rising in joy, and melting in sorrow; enflamed in love and chilled in fear; filled with hope and dejected with disappointment? What pencil can draw, what pen can describe, what tongue can express, those "unutterable groans?" I assure you, reader, I remember the time, when feelings so complicated, in the solemn season of approaching God, has filled my mind with anxiety, lest my experience should be singular in this particular. And I once could not believe any other soul felt as I felt. But now, I view these sensations in a very different point of view; for I ask, shall I complain or rejoice in them? I will do both. But do all men feel thus. Did I always feel so? No, no, compassionate God! thou hast made me to differ. I do not forget that these groans and griefs, are the groans of a soul! a redeemed and renewed soul! And I doubt not, but that such breathings, however hindered and opposed, are as pleasing to God as the songs of angels! Is this mere fancy? Do I not presume? Am I not flattering myself? No! God declares, "I dwell also with him," &c. They are the fruit of God's Spirit, and recommended by a Saviour's blood, and a Saviour's pleas. I do not ask, can they

M

« PreviousContinue »