Chapter II: Part 2

Another danger to be guarded against is that of despising the body, as if it were of no account. The body is to be subject to the spirit, no doubt. It is a servant, and is to be kept to a servant's place, even by severe discipline if need be, but it is to be kept in health and strength, that it may serve well its master. It is the tool of the spirit, and must be kept in good working order. He would be a foolish master who should so treat his tools or his servants as to disable them from work.

Our bodies are to be treated with respect because they are God's temples, in which it pleases Him to dwell. "Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you?" says the Apostle (1 Cor. vi. 19); and again, "Know ye not that ye are the Temple of God, and that the spirit of God dwelleth in you?" and he adds, "If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy." (1 Cor. iii. 16.) From these considerations, it may be easily seen that those persons are guilty of sin who are willfully careless of the body; who for the sake of dress or amusement, or indulgence of any sort, injure their health and lessen their powers of usefulness.

Once more: The body is to be treated with respect because it has a share in our redemption. True, it is subject to decay and death. True, for a time it must molder in the dust, but it shall be raised again, and united to its kindred spirit, freed from all taint of sin and corruption. True, it is sown in dishonor and weakness, but it shall be raised in glory and power, to inherit immortality.

Job xiv. 1 Cor. iii.

_SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT._

_HELPLESSNESS AND HELP._

THE collect for this day is especially a prayer for help; help for body and soul. The suppliant's plea is his helplessness. We have no power of ourselves to help ourselves, and so we turn to Him who is both able and willing to help us.

It is to be wished that Christians in general realized more fully their dependence upon God. We all go to Him for help in great matters—in deep afflictions, in strong temptations; but in the little things of everyday life, we forget or neglect to call upon Him; and it is in these very little things that we are defeated and overthrown by our ever-watchful enemy. "He that despiseth little things shall fall by little and little," said a wise man; and no truer word was ever spoken. It is the small temptation which makes way for the great one. It is the misstep which prepares for the fall.

Take an example: Theodore wakes in the morning feeling rather unwell and out of sorts. He has perhaps overslept when he wished to wake early, and is hurried in consequence. Proceeding to dress, he finds a button off, or a stud misplaced; a real vexation, though a small one; but Theodore never thinks of asking for help in such a matter as that. He would perhaps regard such a prayer as almost a mockery. The bell rings before he is ready, and he has, or thinks he has, no time for morning devotions. By the time he reaches his office, he is in a thoroughly bad humor, and ready to vent his annoyance on the first person who comes across him.

When Theodore reviews the events of the day, he is obliged to confess that he has made a sad failure. He sees, with shame, that he has been unjust and unkind; that he has, perhaps, offended one of God's little ones, or put a stone of stumbling in the way of someone whom he is trying to influence for good. He confesses his sin with penitence and shame, but it does not occur to him to trace the trouble to its source—the failing to seek for help against the first temptation.

Oh that all of us, who profess and call ourselves Christians, could come to realize in our inmost souls, that in us, that is, in our flesh, dwells no good thing; that in very deed we have no power of ourselves to help ourselves in great things or small! It is a thought humbling to human pride, no doubt, but it is true. Every good thing, every good gift, is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights (James i. 17), and thrives in the soil of this lower world only by careful cultivation. Spiritual strength, and the power to resist temptation, are no exception to this rule. They must come from above, in the first place, and they must be continually watered from above if they are to live. You might better set a willow-tree in the midst of the great American Desert, and expect it to grow there without irrigation, as to expect any Christian grace or virtue to live in your heart without constant watering from the Divine Fountain, which gave it life in the first place.

This fact of our utter helplessness to do the least good thing of ourselves would be very discouraging; would, indeed, lead us to utter despair if it stood alone. But God is all-knowing, and He sees that we have no power of ourselves to help ourselves. He is almighty. Nothing is too hard for Him. All things are in His hand, from the whole visible universe to the least grain which helps to make it; from the highest archangel to the tiny baby which was christened yesterday, and whose christening robe was also its burial dress. Nothing is too great for His power, nothing too small for his care and love. He is our Father. He loves each one of His children as much as if that child were the only one, and He has laid up for each one such good things as pass man's understanding.

And this all-powerful, all-loving God knows all our needs and all our weakness. "He knoweth whereof we are made; He remembereth that we are but dust." (Ps. ciii. 14.) He sees that we have no power of ourselves to help ourselves, and His help is always ready. Yea, the whole power of Almighty God is enlisted on the side of the weakest child who is trying to please Him. But He will not force His help on any one.

His hand is always held out, but we are free to lay hold on it or not, as we will. We may neglect or slight His offers if we choose, but we must take the consequences. We may, if we please, kindle a fire for ourselves, and try to walk in the light of it; but this shall we have of His hand: we shall lie down in sorrow. (Isa. l. 11.)

Isa. li. S. John x. 19.

_SECOND MONDAY IN LENT._

_EVIL THOUGHTS AND THEIR REMEDY._

EVERY Christian knows what it is to be troubled with evil thoughts. Bunyan, than whom no uninspired man was ever better acquainted with the human heart, makes it one of his Pilgrim's trials that he bore away with him from the City of Destruction some of those things that he was conversant withal, especially his inward and carnal cogitations; and he adds, sorrowfully, "If I had my way, I would never think of those things more, but when I would do good, evil is present with me."

How often is his experience ours! How many times we find ourselves haunted with what we would fain forget! Some one offers us an affront. We have no desire to cherish a grudge, and perhaps we make an act of forgiveness on the spot; but all day long the scornful word or the unkind act haunts our memory, and Satan conspires with the traitor in our own hearts to magnify the offense, and to suggest thoughts of malice and revenge. We are denied some pleasure or indulgence that others enjoy, and to which we think, perhaps, that we have a better right than they, and we dwell upon the matter, magnifying the forbidden pleasure or advantage till it becomes a dark fog, blotting out every pleasant prospect and shutting us up in measureless discontent.

I believe that invalids are particularly subject to this kind of temptation. The horizon of the sick person is narrow at the best, and a small cloud suffices to obscure it. Moreover, there are certain disorders which seem of themselves particularly favorable to evil thoughts. The patient is, or fancies himself, neglected or forgotten. He is tempted to envy those better off than himself. He thinks of all the good work he has done, and of all he might do, and he is tempted to think hardly of the Master, who seems to have rejected his service. These and still darker thoughts beset the daily couch and nightly pillow of the invalid, till he feels as if Satan in bodily presence were standing at his bedside.

Now what is the remedy for this unhappy state of things? The first thing to be done is to recognize these thoughts as sins. We are too apt to excuse them to ourselves as mere infirmities, consequent on our state of health. They may be so to some extent. All our sins are the consequence of some temptation. So long as we constantly make excuses for our faults, so long they will stay by us, and consider themselves as welcome guests. Let us call them by their right names to begin with, and, like the malicious dwarf in the fairy tale, they are half conquered already.

The next thing to be done with our evil thoughts is to crowd them out. It has been said that Nature abhors a vacuum, but Satan loves one because it gives him a place wherein to bestow his wares. Let us try to so occupy our mind with good things that there shall be no room for the bad ones. Let us fill our memories with good and pleasant things, that we may from time to time take out our treasures, and refresh ourselves with the sight of them. Christian found his inward enemies were vanquished when he looked upon his broidered coat—that robe of Christ's righteousness given him instead of his own rags; when he read in his roll—that evidence of his salvation given to every humble believer in God's word; and above all, when his thoughts waxed warm about the place to which he was going. Try his method.

Then, too, we must use the weapon put into our hands for this very purpose—the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God; and to the end that we may have the full benefit thereof, we must accustom ourselves to its use. We must store our memory with its promises, its counsels and instructions.

I once asked a venerable minister what book I should read in Lent.

His answer was, "The Bible"; and he added, "I could wish that Christians would put aside all other books during Lent, and read the Bible alone."

Without going so far as this, I would earnestly warn every one not to let the Bible be crowded out by any book, however edifying. Do not be content with merely reading, but study it. Learn by heart such passages as are likely to be most useful, and so familiarize yourself with the book as to be able to turn at once to anything you want. A sick-bed or chamber is not the best place to begin this practice, but it is better begun there than never.

Above all, let us, like Christian in the shadow of death, betake ourselves to the weapon called "all prayer." Let us make haste to escape to Him who is our strong tower and house of defense. Let the language of our hearts be that of the Psalmist: "Into thine hands I commit my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth." (Ps. xxxi. 5.) So shall He defend us under His wings and we shall be safe under His feathers; His faithfulness and truth shall be our shield and buckler. (Ps. xci. 4.)

Ps. xxxv. St. John xiv.

_SECOND TUESDAY IN LENT._

_MEDITATION._

THE best remedies for evil thoughts are good thoughts.

It is, I fear, a sorrowful truth that in these days of activity and bustle, in the Church and out of it, the duty and privilege of Christian meditation is in danger of being pushed into the background, or forgotten altogether. We read a few verses in the Bible, morning and evening. Perhaps we keep some religious book on our table, and read a little every day. All this is very well as far as it goes. But how many Christians ever sit down to think out anything for themselves? We may "hear and read" the Bible, but unless we "mark, learn, and inwardly digest" as well, our souls may be half-starved in presence of a royal banquet.

Meditation, that is to say, serious and connected thought on a given subject, is not an easy task. But, as an excellent writer aptly asks, "Who ever said any Christian duty was easy?" Meditation is always hard at first. It is often difficult to those who have practiced it for years: there is so much to be done, and so little time; there are so many trials of temper and feeling in our daily life, whether that life be passed out of doors or in the confinement of a sick-room.

This is all true. And every one of these statements is a plea for the practice I am advocating. There are so many distractions, that we all need the quiet of that "little sanctuary" which God has promised to be to His people in all lands. (Ezek. xi. 16.) There are so many trials of temper and feeling, that we all need to claim the promise, "Thou shalt hide them privily by Thy presence from the provoking of all men." (Ps. xxxi. 20.) There is so much to be done, and so little time to do it in, that we cannot afford to miss any help which our Master has put in our way. As well might the tree planted by the river (Jer. xvii. 8) spend all its strength in putting forth branches and leaves, and forget to stretch out its roots to the pure cold waters which run at its foot. Unless it does so stretch out its roots, it might as well grow like the heath in the desert.

"But I do not know where to begin," says someone; "I do not know what to think about." This is surely a needless difficulty. Is not the deep, unfailing well at hand, yea, under your hand? Have you no Bible? Let us look for a moment at that priceless model of meditation, the cxix. Psalm. What is the key-note of that psalm but the consideration of God's Word? "I will meditate in Thy statutes." "Open mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of Thy law." "Teach me, O Lord, the way of Thy statutes." And so on from beginning to end. It is the Word of God which must be the text of our meditations.

"But how shall I set about it?"

You are perhaps a Sunday-school teacher or pupil. (You should, if possible, be one or the other.) If so, you have the subject of your meditation cut out for you in your next Sunday's lesson. I advise you to begin by memorizing it. In that way you can carry it about with you wherever you go. Then turn it over in your mind, verse by verse, yea, word by word. Sift it as if you were hunting for diamonds.

Say to yourself, "Do I understand the exact meaning of this word, or that allusion? How shall I explain that point? How shall I frame a question which shall make the pupil bring out the meaning for himself?" And finally, "What does the lesson teach me?" For, be assured, unless it does say something to you, you will never make it speak to any one else. If there were more of this kind of preparation, the superintendent would not so often be grieved by the sorrowful spectacle of a teacher sitting idly before an idle class, because he or she "has finished the lesson, and does not know what to say."

Permit me to give a short example to illustrate my meaning. Take the first verse of the second chapter of St. Matthew—a simple passage, and very familiar. "Jesus was born in Bethlehem." Where is Bethlehem? What do I know about its situation, its distance from Jerusalem, its history and present condition? Was it the home of Jesus' parents? How did He happen to be born there? Then come the momentous questions: Who was this babe of Bethlehem? Why was He born? What is He to me? And so you see, this simple historical verse lifts for you the veil of the Holy of Holies, where you can but wonder and adore.

The prayer-book, also, will furnish abundant subjects for thought. Take the collect for the day; say, for example, the ninth Sunday after Trinity, which has a direct bearing on this subject. Why is it so important to have right thoughts? What is the relation between thinking and doing? What passages of Scripture bearing on this point can I remember? And so on through the whole collect. There is, perhaps, not a prayer in the Church service which will not afford matter for a week's meditation; and no one knows the wealth concealed in the prayer-book who has not treated it in this way. Try it, and see if at the end of the Lenten season the Church service does not say more to you than ever it did before.

Ps. cxix. 1-24. 2 Peter 1.

NOTE.—The substance of this and the next chapter was printed in "Church
Work," some time ago.

_THIRD WEDNESDAY IN LENT._

_MEDITATION—Continued._

"MEDITATION is all very well for people of leisure," says some one, "but I am busy from morning till night. I have no time."

To this I answer: "Are you quite sure you have no time? Let me ask you to look back upon your day, and tell yourself honestly how much time has been spent in melancholy musing, in useless regret, or worse than useless foreboding; perhaps, in brooding over some real or fancied injury or affront. Surely these hours would have been more pleasantly and profitably spent in the way I have suggested. Just because you have so much to do, you need the refreshment of the hidden spring—of the pure water which flows from the Fountain of Life."

"I am engaged in a great deal of Church and charitable work," says another; "has it not been said that labor is prayer? And may it not take the place of meditation as well?"

Just as well, and no better. You might as well say that labor is eating. It is a pretty and plausible saying, but it is not true. Labor is not prayer, any more than it is food or sleep. No one needs more the refreshment of the hidden spring than the person who is engaged in mission or charitable work. There is so much to discourage and dishearten, there are so many failures and disappointments and mistakes, that the worker needs all the aid and comfort procurable not to grow morbid and discouraged.

"Yes, it is all very well for healthy people," says another, "but I am an invalid."

Just because you are an invalid do you need to learn the art of governing your thoughts. No one is tempted more than an invalid to the indulgence of those useless and harmful musings of which I have spoken. Sharp and severe illness is an occupation in itself. But to the chronic patient; able to be about a little, perhaps to do a little light work, how long are the hours of the day! How much longer those of the night! How fancy pictures to us the pleasures of the world which we cannot enjoy! How often do Satan and our own corrupt hearts conspire to suggest hard and unkind thoughts of friends and attendants, yea, even of God Himself. How are our uneasy pillows haunted with the ghosts of dead joys and hopes and plans, and still more dread phantoms of sins and failures and fears for the future! I have been a bad sleeper all my life, and in many an hour of wakefulness have I blessed the old-fashioned Sunday-school method of "seven verses and a hymn," which stored my mind with whole chapters of the Bible, and with the best devotional poetry. I wish this old fashion could become a new fashion again. I have never seen a better.

"But there is such an abundance of good books!"

True, but all the books in the world are worth very little to the person who is content with merely reading them. We can think, moreover, when we cannot read, and half an hour's earnest and prayerful consideration of a chapter or verse of God's word will be of more value than a dozen commentaries without such consideration.

It is good always to begin and end our meditations with prayer. It is good, too, at times, to turn our meditation into contemplation; in simply making real to ourselves His presence who has said, "Lo, I am with you alway." (St. Matt. xxviii. 20.) "If any man ... open the door, I will come in ... and ... sup with him, and he with Me." (Rev. iii. 20.)

Let me beg of all who read this chapter and who have never done so, to make trial of its recommendations through the Lenten season. Do not be discouraged, though you fail many times, though again and again you find your thoughts wandering to the ends of the earth. Drive them back to their appointed work every time. By and by you will find them less inclined to stray. The hard task will become a pleasure, and you will be amply rewarded for your pains when you find Divine truth growing more and more clear and precious, when you find yourself better and better able to turn away from painful and unprofitable thoughts, to take refuge in the Lord's presence from the provoking of all men, and to rest under the shadow of the Great Rock in the weary land. Then your heart shall not be "like the heath in the desert, and shall not see when good cometh," but rather "as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river; and shall not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green; and shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit." (Jer. xvii. 6, 8.)

Jer. xvii. Rev. iii.

_THIRD THURSDAY IN LENT._

_PRAYER._

THE Christian is to pray without ceasing; that is, he is always to be in the spirit of prayer. He is, by God's help, to strive to keep himself in such a state that he can at any moment lift up his heart and mind to his Heavenly Father, and that as much in the round of his daily business as in his closet. He is to strive to carry about with him an habitual sense of the presence of God, and of dependence upon Him for all things.

"Use lessens marvel," says the old proverb, and the saying is true. The most surprising discoveries in science, the most wonderful applications of these discoveries to the arts, cease to astonish us in a very short time. There is nothing in the Arabian Nights which sounds more incredible than that the movement of a wheel turned by a waterfall should light up a great city. Yet every child has become used to the electric light, and thinks no more marvel of it than his grandfather did of a candle.

So it is with prayer. Every child of a Christian mother is taught to pray as soon as it can speak, and accepts without question the instruction that prayer is talking to his Father in Heaven. He prays God to bless his father, who is sailing on the sea, and his brother in a distant city, and it seems no more wonderful to him than that the street light should make a pretty picture on the wall of his nursery. And yet what a wonder is prayer, when we come to consider it! All the marvels of man's discovery and invention shrink into nothing before it. I was once telling some little girls about the telephone and saying how strange it seemed to talk with a friend twenty miles away. "Yes," said one, "but we can talk to God without a wire."

The great God who upholds the Universe in His hand, and orders all things by His omnipotent power and wisdom, has his ear always open to the appeal of his feeblest child. Not a sigh from a sick-bed, not a prayer lisped at the mother's knee, not a cry from the deepest dungeon, but is heard and marked by Him. From every place on earth, the way is open to His throne. The mother who has a son in China can send him help by this road. The poor widow in the almshouse can lighten the trials of her lot; yea, though she have not a penny to give to the cause, she can help the missionary in the farthest distant field by her prayers. When we can do no more for our friends, we can commend them to the prayers of the Church. Alas! We too often wait till we can do no more.

I close this chapter with an extract from Professor Phelps's admirable book, "The Still Hour."

"In the vestibule of St. Peter's at Rome is a doorway which is walled up, and marked with a cross. It is opened but four times in a century. On Christmas eve, once in twenty-five years, the Pope approaches it in princely state, with a retinue of cardinals in attendance, and begins the demolition of the door by striking it three times with a silver hammer. When the passage is opened, the multitude pass into the nave of the cathedral and up to the altar by an avenue which the majority of them never entered before, and never will enter thus again.

"Imagine that the way to the Throne of Grace were like the Porta Santa, inaccessible save once in a quarter of a century, on the twenty-fifth of December, and then only with august solemnities, conducted by great dignitaries in a distant city. Conceive that it were now ten years since you or I, or any other sinner, had been 'permitted' to pray; and that fifteen long years must drag themselves away before we could venture to approach God; and that, at the most, we could not hope to pray more than two or three times in a lifetime—with what solicitude should we wait for the coming of that holy day!

"We should lay our plans of life, select our homes, build our houses, choose our professions, with reference to a pilgrimage in that twenty-fifth year. We should reckon time by the opening of that sacred door as by epochs. No other one thought would engross so much of our lives, or kindle our sensibilities so exquisitely, as the thought of prayer. It would be of more significance to us than the thought of death is now. Fear would grow to horror at the thought of dying before that Jubilee.

"Yet on that great day, amidst an innumerable throng, within sight and hearing of stately rites, what would prayer be to us? Who would value it in the comparison of those still moments, that—

"'Sacred silence of the mind,'

"in which we can now find God every day and everywhere? That day would be more like the day of Judgment to us than like the sweet minutes of converse with our Father, which we may now have every hour. We should appreciate this privilege of hourly prayer if it were once taken from us."

Ps. lxxvii. St. Luke xi. 1-14.

_THIRD FRIDAY IN LENT._

_PRAYER._

WHAT is prayer?

Prayer, in its primary sense, means simply asking. We find the word constantly used in this sense in Scripture and elsewhere; as when Elijah says to the widow woman of Zarephath, "Fetch me, I pray thee, a little water." But prayer, as the word has come to be used in the whole Church, has a much higher signification. It means speaking to God. It means pouring out our hearts to Him—telling Him all our wants, our wishes, our hindrances and temptations, our trials from without and from within. It means asking not only for ourselves, but for others; our families, our fellow church-members, our pupils, our country and its rulers, yea, even our enemies. (S. Matt. v. 44.)

There is no matter too great for it, and none too small. There is no man so holy as not to need it to keep him good, and none so wicked that he may not use it to make him better. The way of prayer is open to every one. It is the open door set before every child of God, which no man can shut. The Christian may be a slave, or a prisoner watched by soldiers, beset by spies, loaded with fetters in the deepest dungeon on earth. In the prisons of the Inquisition, the captive was condemned to a perpetual silence. Not a word, not a groan, must escape his lips, on pain of the gag. But his cruel and relentless jailers could not prevent him from speaking to his God, nor could they prevent the unspoken words from entering the ear for which they were intended. That was beyond their power.

The courts of earthly kings are places of resort for great people, for the noble, the rich and beautiful of their subjects. The poor and lowly have no room there. But the courts of the King of kings are as free to the poorest laboring man and woman as to those to whose luxury they minister; nay, it may well be that the slave will find entrance and kind entertainment when his master is shut out. Nor is ignorance or weakness of intellect a bar to acceptance. The broken language of the poor negro, the lisping accents of the little child, are as musical to the great Father of all as the hymns of the poet, or the highest flights of the philosopher. He sees the heart, and it is the heart which prays.

What is requisite to acceptable prayer?

First of all, faith. "He that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him." (Heb. xi. 6.) A moment's consideration makes this perfectly plain. We shall not ask of any person a boon, unless we believe that the person exists, and that we shall gain something by the application. We must ask in faith; that is, in the belief that we are speaking to a kind Father, whose heart is warm toward us, and who loves to do us good.

Some good people believe that God will give us just what we ask for. They will even tell us that, if we do not so receive, it is because we do not ask in faith. I believe this to be a mischievous mistake. God knows our necessities before we ask, and He also knows our ignorance in asking. We do not always know whether the thing we ask is the best thing. Our Father sees our lives "in the whole of our duration, whether now or ever so many ages hence," as a distinguished author has it, and—

"The All-wise is the All-loving too!"

All things are in his power, and it costs Him no more to give one than another. Every prayer reaches His ear and heart, and every one is answered, but not always in the way we expect. Sometimes He gives us something else than the thing we desire, as a tender mother gives her child wholesome food at the same time that she withholds the coveted but unwholesome dainty. Sometimes, too, like the same wise mother, He answers, gently but firmly, "No!" But even when He says No, He does not leave His child uncomforted.

"I have learned by experience," says an aged saint of God, "that when He refuses me anything, by and by He comforts me in Himself without it."

We must pray with faith, and with resignation to God's will, but we must also ask with perseverance. Our Lord gives us the warrant for this in the parables of the importunate friend (St. Luke xi), and of the unjust judge (St. Luke xviii). We are to "pray always, and not to faint." (St. Luke xviii. 1.) We are to: "praying always with all prayer and supplication." (Eph. vi. 18.) We are to "pray without ceasing." (1 Thess. v. 17.) We must not be content with asking once or twice, but we must keep asking again and again. Some blessing will come in answer to persevering prayer, though it may not always be the one we seek.

There is one blessing, and that the greatest, which we may always ask in full confidence of receiving, and that is the gift of the Holy Spirit. Our Lord tells us that earthly parents are not so ready to give good gifts to their children, as His father and ours is to give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him. (St. Luke xi. 13.) And this very gift helps us to pray acceptably, for "the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities," interceding for us with "groanings which cannot be uttered." "And He that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because He maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God." (Rom. viii. 26, 27.)

Ps. xxv. St. Luke xi. 1-14.

_THIRD SATURDAY IN LENT._

_INTERCESSION._

WE are not to be selfish in our prayers. Our Lord teaches us this lesson in the very first words of the form of prayer which He Himself has given us: "When ye pray, say, Our Father."

Of course, if God is "our" Father, He is "your" Father and "mine" as well. Nay, we must lay hold of this truth of God's individual care and love for His children, before we can pray as we ought. But our Lord would bring home to our minds that, as we are members of Christ, so we are members one of another. We are sons and daughters of the great King, and so brothers and sisters; and thence it follows that, as members of one family, we have duties to perform toward each other. It is the very definition of a member that it is part of an organism fitted to perform certain offices for the good of the whole. We see, in the human body, that the hand has one office, the eye another, and so on. So it is in the body of Christ, which is His Church—each member has his place and his duties. One of these duties is intercessory prayer.

We have the commands of God in Holy Scripture for this matter, which should of itself be enough for us: "I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men;... for this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour." (1 Tim. ii. 1, 3.) St. Paul again and again asks the prayers of those to whom his letters are addressed. "Brethren, pray for us." (1 Thess. v. 25.) "Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving; withal praying also for us" (Col. iv. 2, 3); and so in other places. Our Lord Himself, our perfect pattern, sets us the highest example of this kind of prayer, concluding His last discourse to the twelve with that most wonderful intercession contained in the seventeenth chapter of St. John.

Following the example of her Head, the Church teaches us the same lesson. We are taught to pray for our rulers, for the clergy, for all sorts and conditions of men. The Litany is in a great measure made up of intercessions. Also in the most solemn service of all—that of the Holy Communion—we are taught to pray for the whole estate of Christ's church militant.

These reasons ought to be enough, if there were no others, to move us to the duty of intercession. It hardly seems, indeed, as if we ought to need a "command," however glad we may be of the encouragement. Is it not a privilege as well as a duty to carry our friends' dangers and needs and trials to the Mercy Seat? Is it not much to commend to our Father's care our nearest and dearest, and to join our prayers to theirs, thus obtaining the benefit of the promise that when two are agreed on earth as touching anything they shall ask, it shall be done for them? (St. Matt. xviii. 19.)

We may help those by our prayers whom we can help in no other way. The most obstinate sinner, the most rampant infidel, the most careless and indifferent person in the world, cannot keep his friends from praying for him. The son may disregard his mother's tears and counsels, but her prayers will follow him in spite of himself. Nay, more, the very consciousness that such prayers were following him has kept more than one such wanderer from an irretrievable fall, and brought him back to his mother's arms. Prayer girdles the earth more quickly than the electric spark, and no one upon that earth is out of its reach.

Those who can help the good works of the Church in no other way can do so by prayer. The invalid in her room or on her bed, who is too weak perhaps to hold a pen or a needle, can help the toiler in China or the far West; can call down blessing from the Divine Treasury, and strength and grace from the Fountain of all good, for the man or woman she has never seen. The poor old black woman in the gallery of the church, without a penny to call her own, can strengthen the hands and cheer the heart of the eloquent missionary bishop who enters the pulpit to make known to the people what God has wrought in a distant land. Surely such a privilege is worth a great deal to the true child of God, who desires with the whole heart the coming of her Lord and His kingdom, but yet can do nothing, humanly speaking, to hasten it on.

It is certain that we cannot honestly pray for people without wishing to help them in other ways. The man whose prayers are a mere decent form, or a sheer pretence and hypocrisy, may pray in general for the cause of Christ in the world without raising his hand or denying himself one indulgence for it, but not the man who prays in earnest, "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." To him, "Thy kingdom come" means also, "Let me help to bring it," and "Thy will be done" means also, "Let me do it." It is said of St. Chrysostom, that he kept a box on the stool where he was wont to kneel in prayer, and with every petition for the poor he deposited a coin in the treasury.

Finally, praying for others helps us to pray for ourselves. When our hearts seem dull and cold, and so heavy that we cannot raise them up to heaven, an intercession will often lend them wings. We shall go back to our own needs with renewed faith and hope, and find the burden removed that held us down.

Let us, then, be instant in prayer and supplication, not only for ourselves, but for our friends and relatives, our pupils or teachers, for our own parish and all its interests, for the Church at large, for our country, and for all sorts and conditions of men. And let us not be weary in so doing, till "they shall teach no more every man his neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord: for all shall know Him, from the least of them even unto the greatest of them." (Jer. xxxi. 34.) Yea, "the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea." (Hab. ii. 14.)

Is. lxii. 1 Tim. ii.

_THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT._

_OUR ENEMIES._

IN the collect for the day we ask for defense against our enemies. "Stretch out Thy right hand to be our defense against our enemies." The right hand is the symbol both of power and skill. It is especially so among Orientals, with whom it is reserved for all the nobler offices, the left hand performing those which are more humble or unclean. We find in the Psalms and the prophets, that the right hand of God is usually spoken of as the especial seat of His power, as in Ps. cxviii. 16. "The right hand of the Lord hath the pre-eminence; the right hand of the Lord bringeth mighty things to pass."

To the Christian the right hand of the Lord means even more than it did to the Jew, for it is there that his Saviour is enthroned, and ever remains, to make intercession for him. Saint Stephen was vouchsafed the vision of his risen Lord, thus placed, no doubt, to strengthen him for his coming trial, and there shall we all see him who are counted worthy to attain to the first resurrection.

"To think," said an aged saint to whom I had just been reading the Bible, "to think that I shall see Jesus at the right hand of God! Oh, if I might but once touch His hand!"

The very thought lighted up her plain face with a smile which made it beautiful.

God is our defense. All the Scriptures are full of the thought, but especially the Psalms. God will help the poor and needy, and will set him at rest. (Ps. lxii. 6.) "The Lord is my stony rock, and my defense, my Saviour, my God and my might, in whom I will trust; my buckler, the horn also of my salvation, and my refuge." (Ps. xviii. 2.) "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff comfort me." (Ps. xxiii. 4.)

And so again and again we have our Heavenly Father's promise to defend His children against all their enemies, both spiritual and temporal. True, we must walk through the wilderness of this world, but we need not walk alone. True, we walk in the midst of enemies, yet "they that be with us are more than they that be with them" (2 Kings vi. 16), and if our eyes were opened, like those of the prophet's servant, we should, like him, see the angel hosts sent for defense. We may, nay we must, hunger and thirst, but the Lord will cause waters to break out in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. (Isa. xxxv. 6.) We need be afraid of none of its terrors. The light will break forth and the sun will rise, and show the ground covered with manna for our refreshment.

The thought of our God as a defense and shield should be a help and comfort to those Christians who are troubled with fears. There are those, especially among invalids, whose lives are made a burden to themselves and others by needless fears. They are afraid of lightning, of fire, of robbers, of they know not what. They feel as if every thunderbolt had a special commission for them; as if every blast of wind were a destroying angel. These fears are often merely nervous symptoms, but even then they are very much under the control of the patient. Let me say to such an one, Do but think, do but try to realize to yourself the fact that the Lord's right hand is stretched out to be your defense in all dangers—that He will defend thee under His wings, and thou shalt be safe under His feathers. Consider that the darkness is no darkness to Him, but the night is as clear as the day. (Ps. cxxxix. 11.)

"When first before the mercy-seat
Thou didst thine all to Him commit,
He gave thee warrant from that hour
To trust His mercy, love, and power."

Are not these terrors, then, an affront to Him, as implying a distrust in His plighted word? Dismiss them, then! Send them back to the darkness where they belong, and let your motto be, "I will lay me down in peace, and take my rest: for it is Thou, Lord, that makest me dwell in safety." (Ps. iv. 8.)

Ps. xci. St. John xiv.

_THIRD MONDAY IN LENT._

_OUR ENEMIES._

WE have seen that the collect we are considering has its foundation, like all the prayers that we learn at the knee of our mother, the Church, in the promises of God's word, and are therefore sure to be answered in some way. Observe, however, that it is nowhere said in the Bible that we are not to meet with adversities. Nay, we are told the express contrary. All His life long our Master endured hardship and trouble; and the servant is not above his Master. "In the world ye shall have tribulation," says our Lord to His apostles, but He graciously adds: "Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." (St. John xvi. 33.)

What are those enemies which the Christian has to dread, and against which he has special need to pray for deliverance?

Here, again, our Lord leaves us in no doubt. "Fear not them which kill the body, and are not able to kill the soul" (St. Matt. x. 28); and again, "Fear not them that kill the body, and, after that, have no more that they can do." (St. Luke xii. 4.) This shuts out all that class of terrors of which I spoke in the last chapter. The cruelest murderer, the most destructive storm or earthquake, the most noisome pestilence, can only kill that which must die at any rate—which brought its death-warrant with it when it came into the world. They cannot destroy the real man or woman; nay, all their forces combined cannot deprive him of the very least of those things which God hath prepared for them that love Him (1 Cor. ii. 9); nor of one moment of that eternal life which God hath given us in His Son. (1 John v. 11.)

Clearly, then, the enemies we have to fear are those which assault and hurt the soul, and which, unless steadfastly resisted, are able to make our way dark and perilous, if not to deprive us of that inheritance which has been prepared for us. It is they whom we are to combat with all our force, and against whom we must specially ask our great Defender to stretch out His right hand. Yet even here we must not show ourselves coward and craven. We are soldiers of Christ. Let us never forget that. Every battle is fought for Him, every victory is a victory over His enemies as well as our own. He will never leave us to struggle alone, but is always with us, though we cannot always perceive Him. Let us, then, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might, knowing that His Father, who gave us to Him, is greater than all, and none is able to pluck us out of His hand. (St. John x. 29.)

Our spiritual enemies may all be classed under three heads—the world, the flesh, and the devil. Against these we are to fight manfully and to the death, never laying down our arms, never relaxing our vigilance, and, even though apparently beaten for the time, never giving up, till our Great Commander shall see our warfare accomplished, and call us home. It is the Christian's paradox that there is no peace except in war. If we give up the contest, we become slaves; and though our conquerors give us all the goods they have to bestow in this life, they do but treat us as cannibals treat their prisoners—fattening them, that they may devour them at last.

Hab. ii. St. Luke xii.

_THIRD TUESDAY IN LENT._

_THE WORLD._

EVERY general strives to know all that he can about his enemy, his nature and position, his powers and resources, and tries to foresee the plans of that enemy's attack, that he may be able to meet and frustrate them. Let us, then, inquire a little into the nature of those foes which beset our homeward path, and which would, if they could, hinder us from reaching the rest prepared for us in our Father's house. First of all, what is meant by the world?

The world means all that outside of ourselves which is alienated from and opposed to God, which is governed by and devoted to the things which are temporal, and ignores, if it does not hate, the things which are eternal. It is very wise in its own eyes; yea, according to its own canons, and from its own standpoint, wiser than the children of light. It is dreadfully in earnest in the things which it pursues, though those things may be of the most frivolous description. It gets into all sorts of places, alas even into the Church itself, running here and there for meat, and grudging if it be not satisfied, which, indeed, it never is. It is a severe master to its votaries, exacting the hardest and the most exclusive services and the most cruel sacrifices, and rewarding them at last with husks and rags.

The world puts on many disguises. To one it comes under the name of business, demanding of its slave that he shall give up everything else for the pursuit of money. It does not make this demand of every man at the beginning, and in so many words. No, it is more cunning than that. It tells him that it is his duty to provide for his family, not only needful food and clothes and the means of education, but a fine house in a fashionable quarter, and as many luxuries as his neighbor possesses. It makes him press hard on those who labor for him, and exact much work for little pay. It makes him rent tenements to men and women which are not fit for pigs to live in, and grudge the smallest outlay for the health and comfort of his tenants. It makes him plan and scheme to add a few thousands more to his useless millions, by raising the price of fuel and food to the poor man. By and by, the world has done with him. He speculates a little too rashly, and his wealth goes as it came. Or God says to him, "Thou fool! This night thy soul shall be required of thee!" and he goes forth from the visible and unreal to the invisible and real, a shivering, hungry, naked soul, homeless to all eternity. And that world for which he has toiled and sacrificed misses him as much as he missed the consumptive girl who breathed the foul air of his factory till her young life was poisoned, and she dropped at her machine, and went home to die.

The world comes to a woman with a family of little ones, and bids her leave these immortal pledges of God's love to servants, to learn their very prayers from alien lips, and spend her nights in amusements, and her days in planning for the nights. It exacts of her that she shall risk her health and blunt her sense of delicacy by immodest and insufficient clothing. It tell her that these things are necessary, a debt that she owes to society, and whispers that she can make up for all that needs an atonement, by putting on a sober dress and going to church regularly in Lent, or by giving about the fiftieth part of what her dress costs in charity.