ance of the evils of life with fortitude. But the essence of these rules was stoical indifference: men were taught to have no feeling. But Christianity admits of deep feeling-a sense of insult and injury; but bids its professors triumph over it, and, at the same time, wish well, and do good, and pray for the person who injures. In the doctrine of the Stoics, there was nothing generous and compassive; in that of Christianity, there is all that is noble and disinterested.

"Love your enemies," says Jesus Christ; "bless" them— "pray" for them-"that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust."

God does as he requires of man. Upon a world of sinners, who are perpetually in hostile attitude against him, and whose hatred would dethrone him, he sends the blessings of his providence and grace; they flow as wide as that world, and as incessantly as the minutes that roll.

I might here speak of the love and prayers of Jesus for his enemies-all in perfect accordance with his directions to mankind; but, reserving remarks on this subject for another place, let me conclude by putting the inquiry-Reader! have you the evidence which springs from love to, and prayer for, your enemies, of your adoption into the family of God? Nothing is more like God than a spirit of forgiveness. Nothing is more like Jesus Christ than prayer for enemies. "He that can meet a man kindly who is seeking his hurt; who can speak well of one that is perpetually slandering and cursing him; that can pray for a man that abuses, injures, and wounds him; and that can seek heaven for him that wishes his damnation, is in the way of life. This is religion, beautiful as its native skies; pure, like its source; kind, like its Author; fresh, like the dews of the morning; clear and diffusive, like the beams of the rising sun; and holy, like the feelings and words that came from the bosom

of the Son of God.

He that can do this, need not doubt that he is a Christian. He has caught the very spirit of the Savior, and he must inherit eternal life.”

MATTHEW.

DIRECTIONS OF CHRIST IN RELATION TO PRAYER.

And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues, and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily, I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, &c.-Matt. vi. 5-8.

"THERE is in the nature of man, or in the circumstances in which he is conditioned," says the author of the "Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation"—"there is something, which leads him to recognize and worship a superior being." "Man is a religious being: he will worship."

Equally true is it that man will pray. And with the same propriety that he has been denominated a "religious being," may he be styled a "praying being."

It is obvious that he is in no such sense religious, as to please his Maker, as a matter of course; but there is that in his nature which recognizes some being as superior to himself, and to whom, at times, and under certain circumstances, he pays his homage.

So, also, in relation to prayer. Men will pray. They will pray either to the true God, or to some idol. There is, perhaps, not that human being, who has attained to manhood, who has not offered some form of prayer. It may have been sudden, brief, a whisper, a sigh, but it was prayer; or the natural, instinctive call of a needy and dependent nature upon some being, supposed to possess the power to aid. Cast a man-it matters not who he is, or what may

be his creed, or his professions, or previous determinations cast him into sudden and extreme peril, or cause him to experience violent and excruciating agony-place him on the deck of some foundering bark, or on the roof of some burning habitation, and will he not pray? Let him realize that death and eternity are immediately before him, and nature will speak out. As well might you hope to chide the raging elements to repose, as to silence his cries in this hour of his extremity.

In his directions, in relation to prayer, our Saviour proceeded in exact accordance with these principles of our nature. In none of his discourses, does he attempt to prove prayer to be a duty. He gives ample instructions as to the manner the frequency-the importunity of prayer; but the duty was too obvious to require any authoritative injunction from him. It was a dictate of nature; perhaps แ a constitutional instinct, inwrought by the Maker;" or, if not that, it was a natural effort at relief, growing out of a sense of want and dependence. Men would pray. They might be instructed how to pray with more certainty of success; they might be taught the importance of more frequency, and greater importunity; but they needed no clearer proof of the duty itself than that furnished by the light of nature. Hence, observe how our Savior introduces the subject to his disciples, in his memorable sermon on the mount: " When thou prayest," &c. He takes it for granted that they would pray. Not a single sentence does he utter in regard to the duty, but proceeds at once to give directions as to the manner in which that duty should be performed.

It is apparent, from the sacred narrative, that, at this time, the Jews were not obnoxious to the charge of neglecting prayer. On the contrary, they abounded in prayer. "They loved to pray." They made many and long prayers. But, in this service, which, of all other acts of worship, should be characterized by sincerity and humility, they were hypo

critical and ostentatious. "They loved to pray, standing in the synagogues, and in the corners of the streets, to be seen of men." They seem not to have had regard to the honor and glory of God. They seem not to have been burdened with a sense of spiritual want. Their object-supremely selfish-was to receive honor from men; to obtain a great reputation for the length, fervency, and, perhaps, eloquence of their prayers.

It was the design of the Savior, in thus rebuking the hypocrisy and ostentation of the Jews, to convey to his disciples juster views of the nature of acceptable prayer. While, therefore, he is not to be considered as condemning prayer in the synagogue, but only that which was offered to be seen or heard of men, he is to be understood as recommending, and even enjoining, that such prayers as are offered by individuals, which are of a private or secret character, should be offered strictly in secret. "Every Jewish house had its place for secret devotion. Over the porch, or entrance of

the house, was a small room, of the size of the porch, raised a story above the rest of the house, expressly appropriated for the place of retirement. Here, in secrecy and solitude, the pious Jew might offer his prayers, unseen by any but the Searcher of hearts. To this place, or to some similar place, our Savior directed his disciples to repair, when they wished to hold communion with God."

What pious heart has not often thanked the Savior for this divine injunction? "When thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut the door,"-shut out the world and its disturbing cares-"pray to thy Father, which is in secret and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly." Yes, the closet!

The calm retreat, the silent shade,
With prayer and praise agree;
And seem, by thy sweet bounty, made
For those who follow thee.

Then, if thy spirit touch the soul,

And grace her mean abode,

Oh! with what peace, and joy, and love,
She there communes with God.

There, like the nightingale, she pours

Her solitary lays;

Nor asks a witness of her song,

Nor thirsts for human praise.

If there be one spot dearer to the true Christian than all others on the wide globe, methinks it must be his closet, where he is in the daily habit of going to meet and commune with God; where he pours out his soul in penitential sorrow for sin; where he can weep, and none molests him; where he can wrestle with God, and take strong hold of the promises; where, as a parent, he can plead for his children, in terms, and with a pathos which he desires none should hear but God only; where he can wrestle for friends, as Jacob wrestled with the angel of the covenant; and where, drawn by the powerful attraction of the love of Jesus, and filled with antepasts of the glory which shall be revealed hereafter, he can only exclaim—not knowing what to say, more than the disciples did on the Mount of Transfiguration— "Lord! let me build a tabernacle here; and here let me abide, in the enjoyment of thy love, so long as I live!"

I have known Christians, who, especially in seasons of revival, seemed to think little of the closet, but every thing of the social or public prayer-meeting. It is delightful to meet the assembly of saints; to go to the house of God; to the chapel, and other places of resort, and there mingle our praises, and unite our prayers. But, while such seasons may be, and should be frequent, the Christian should learn to love his closet. The excitement and sympathy engendered by revivals are wont to subside-too soon, I allow— but the fire, the holy zeal, and holy joy, kindled up on the