FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.

Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance.—Eph. 6, 18.

Among the things that people believed in olden times was a certain stone, called a touchstone. By means of this stone it was claimed one could determine whether a gem or a precious piece of jewelry was genuine or not. The sham diamond might glitter ever so brightly, the sham gold externally deceive the eye, let the touchstone be applied, and its real character would at once appear. Spiritually, in religion, there is such a touchstone by which those who profess to serve God can discover whether they are genuine Christians or not, whether their religion is pure gold or inferior metal, whether their faith is a gem of great price or only worthless imitation, useless dross. That touchstone of true spiritual life is prayer, communion with his God, for as a man communeth with his God, so he is. How, then, does this touchstone apply to you? Are you a man, or woman, of prayer? What sort of Christian are you?

Nor can it be said that we need no instruction on this subject. We must be taught to pray just as we must be taught how to write and talk correctly. Let us, then, in all simplicity, with plainness of speech and practicalness of purpose, consider.I. When, II. where, and III. how we should pray: and may God's Holy Spirit, the Lord of Prayer, attend with His blessing our meditation.

There are many passages in Holy Scripture which seem to command impossibilities, and we tacitly pass them by as not intended for us. This cannot be a wise or safe thing to do, for God does not command impossibilities. So with the text, "Praying always." In other places we read, "Pray without ceasing," "Continue constant in prayer." Our first thought may be, That's beyond us. How, in this busy life of ours, shall we ever be able to give ourselves over to never-ceasing prayer? A few minutes a day, a special prayer occasionally at special seasons or special emergencies, that's about all we can afford. That is a mistaken notion of these texts of prayer. It is a familiar expression: "Prayer is the Christian's vital breath," the Christian's native air. We are always breathing. Ceasing to breathe means death. So with the spiritual life. For a person not topray means spiritual death. Every one who is a Christian prays; not to pray stamps him as a non-Christian.

And yet, as in the bodily sphere a distinction exists between breathing and using that breath for speaking, so we must draw a distinction between "prayer" and "saying prayers." A Christian, as he is always breathing naturally, so he is always breathing spiritually. He lives a life of prayer; he is always in such a state of faith and heart and spirit that he can lift up his heart in prayer. Even when we are silent, we breathe; even when a Christian is not "saying prayers," engaged in forms of worship, he is in a spiritual frame of mind, and is living a life of prayer. To pray always is to live as in God's presence, to be constantly conscious of Him.

And still, true as it is that a Christian is always living a life of prayer, there must be times for prayer—times when we engage in "saying prayers." There is more in this matter of habit than many persons think. It means regularity, and makes it both easy and pleasant. There is no absolute rule on this subject, no technical limit. Each one must determine himself how often he ought to pray daily. David, in the Psalm, says, "Evening and morning and at noon will I pray." Daniel was accustomed to kneel upon his knees three times a day. There is, if we may so speak, a natural propriety in thus thrice addressing the throne of grace. Three times a day we are accustomed to feed our bodies, and this very act may suggest to us that our souls need similar attention. "Men shall not live by bread alone." We have our blessed Lord's example for it. The holiest and most fruitful Christian lives have been lived by men and women who thus prayed not less than three times a day. The early Christians were exemplary in the discharge of this duty. What Christian, arising from his bed in the morning, can neglect his prayer? Everything seems to invite him to lift up his heart unto God. When we arise from our beds, it is like a resurrection from the dead, and it seems almost impossible for a pious mind not to view it in that divine light, thanking God for his waking; and as he sallies forth from his home, not knowing what a day may bring forth, and feeling his weakness and frailty and danger, the temptation to which he is every moment exposed, how can he do it without first raising his eyes and thoughts on high, committing himself to the faithful Creator, and invoking His protection and strength? Moreover, knowingthat everything is resting upon His blessing, he should invoke it upon the occupation of his mind and hands.

Direct, control, suggest this day,All I may deign, or do, or say,That all my powers, with all their might,In Thy sole glory may unite.

When we thus go forth into the world, it is with an atmosphere of devotion around us.

And then again at night-time, when we have given all our strength to the work of our calling, tired and exhausted from the toil of the day, and our couches invite us to repose, who can look back on the blessings of the day without being moved to gratitude to Him who kept us safely through it? There was this and that of the day's transaction that deserves a calm retrospect in the sight of the Lord, confession of one's discrepancy and wrong-doing. And who can resign himself to sleep, the emblem of death, and to his bed, the type of his grave, without saying a few words of Christian committal? And who, during the day, cannot find a few moments to lift up his thoughts on high? Nor, beloved fellow-Christians and church-members, neglect to speak grace at your table; there are blessings, direct and indirect, which connect with that pious and time-honored custom which no household can afford to forego. Frequently the only time when the family meets during the day, it forms a link of spirituality between its members. It is no little means of keeping the devil out and bringing the dove of peace back. Permit not this grand old and well-tried custom to lapse into disuse; hold fast to it as a sacred heirloom transmitted from your godly parents. Thus have your fixed, established season of prayer.

And it is good not only to have stated times, but also stated places for prayers. This is our second consideration: Where? You can pray anywhere. You can hold audience with God at your own option. The place is not essential to prayer. Peter prayed on the housetop, Paul in prison, Daniel in the lions' den, Jonah in the fish's belly. The Lord is everywhere, and His ears are always open to the cries of His people. But the law of association is the friend of religion. As you speed to your labors in the morning, as you sit for recuperation in the shade of one of our beautiful parks, as you are busy with your duties in kitchen and workshop, your heart can go out to God in devotion. And so it is well to have a little nook somewhere, a spot especiallysuggestive to us of prayer. There is help in this. Daniel had his spot, where, when he came in from the excitement of the court, he could kneel down and pray to his God. His window opened towards Jerusalem, not accidentally, but by special arrangement, and his eyes swept over the western hills until vision was lost in the distance; his imagination swept onward till he stood in the courts of the Lord's house on Zion's hill, heard its holy songs, and inhaled the incense that arose from its sacred altars. There is something dear to us in such a spot. Our Lord, in His direction on prayer, enjoins: "Enter into thy closet and pray." It was the custom of the Jews to have certain private rooms on the flat top of their homes which they especially reserved for devotional purposes. One such place you certainly ought to have.

God in His Word calls our churches "houses of prayer." It is a significant title. Not only preaching ought to employ us in the holy place, for what profit is there in preaching, the best of preaching, if there is no outgoing of the heart to God? No singing, no music that has not in it the element of devotion can make melody in His ear. Prayer is an essential part of our service, at the altar and in the pulpit; and it ought to be in the pew. It is here at least, in God's temple, that the Christian soul ought to find a spot, and regularly, where, amid the distressing scenes of earth, it can come to itself, where it can feel and commune in the ear of God, where, lifting itself above the sordidness and the perversity of this earth, it can bathe in the invigorating atmosphere of a nobler world, and draw inspiration for the affairs of life, in a few moments of communion with a Higher Power. Let, I beseech you, this house be to you a house of prayer, and have a similar place in your own home. There's wisdom and great help in that.

Having answered thewhenandwhere, let us now note thehow. By this we do not mean the posture in prayer, whether we ought to pray standing or kneeling; neither do we mean whether we ought to use a fixed prayer, committed to memory, or pray extempore, out of the heart, finding our own words. I do not think it is wise to use no form as a rule. Extempore prayers are apt to lack both orderly arrangement and fullness, and when weary or dull, or our thoughts are wandering, we cannot make prayers for ourselves,—we want to have a form of devout words put into our mouths. Those simple, yet statelyprayers of our Catechism and hymn-book have been, and are still, the inspiration of thousands of the most devout of God's children. And yet, there is one danger. Using a regular form of prayer statedly may lead to listlessness and lifelessness. It is not only the Romanist who, counting his beads and making his crossings and prostrations, nor the Mohammedan, who at the priest's call from the mosque falls upon his knees, who does not pray, but the Protestant may say or read his addresses to God, and yet not pray. There is a difference between saying prayer and praying. Prayer, to be right, must be offered up in the spirit of prayer, and by the spirit of prayer is meant a devotional tone and temper of the mind and the heart. Reads our text: "Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit." It is the heart that prays, not the knees, nor the hands, nor the lips. To hasten over the words heedlessly, anxious to be done as quickly as possible, to do it because it's a custom, and perhaps with a superstitious fear that if we do not do it, something might befall us, is making a mockery of prayer. We ought to pray, but we must pray in earnest, with faith, reverence, sincerity, as if we meant it. As it has been expressed: God does not look at the arithmetic of our prayers, how many there may be; nor does He look at the logic of our prayers, how methodical and nicely arranged they may be; nor at the rhetoric, how beautiful they may be. What He looks at is the sincerity of our prayers, how earnest they are. And lose not the Spirit in your prayers; that is the one direction of to-day's text. And the other is, "Praying always with all perseverance,"i. e., prayer must be constant, unceasing. The Apostle knew the defects of earth-born man, and, knowing, bids them to beware of being tardy in their prayer. There is a good reason why. Prayer is spiritual breath, we said. If a man's breathing is bad, if it is hurried, fitful, some mortal mischief is at work. Even so spiritually. If our prayers are hurried, if they are irregular, if we regard them as disagreeable duties, if they are not the natural and necessary consequences of our spiritual life, natural and necessary as breathing is to every living man, then that life is sadly weak and diseased. Why are we so weak in Christian faith? why so wayward and sluggish in our Christian life? Why have sinful habits such power over us? It is because we breathe,i. e., pray, so badly. How is it possible to work for God, or fight for Him, if we are tardy in holding communion with Him?

Think it over, my dear fellow-Christian, and may it aid you in making you a man, a woman, of prayer! For what is a man of prayer? See yonder mountain. Below is its gigantic base; then your eye runs up the mountain side, and you see—what? That the peak is lost in the clouds. So is the man of prayer. His feet stand upon the earth, his heart is in the clouds; there is a something that keeps him in constant communion with God. There lies his strength. We call it "prayer." Amen.

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