Chapter V: Part II (2)

Oh, my friends, let us surround and incompass _Humanus_ with these flames of love, till he cannot make his escape from them, but must become a willing victim to their power. For the universal God is universal love; all is love, but that which is hellish and earthly. All religion is the spirit of love; all its gifts and graces are the gifts and graces of love; it has no breath, no life, but the life of love. Nothing exalts, nothing purifies, but the fire of love; nothing changes death into life, earth into heaven, men into angels, but love alone. Love breathes the Spirit of God; its words and works are the inspiration of God. It speaketh not of itself, but the word, the eternal word of God speaketh in it; for all that love speaketh, that God speaketh, because love is God. Love is heaven revealed in the soul; it is light, and truth, it has no errors, for all errors are the want of love. Love has no more of pride, than light has of darkness; it stands and bears all its fruits from a depth of humility. Love is no sect or party; it neither makes, nor admits of any bounds; you may as easily inclose the light, or shut up the air, as confine love to a sect or party. It lives in the _liberty_, the _universality_, and _impartiality_, of heaven. It believes in one, holy, catholic God, the God of all spirits; it joins with the catholic Spirit of the one God, who unites with all that is good, and is meek, patient, well-wishing, and long-suffering over all the evil that is in nature. Love, like the Spirit of God, rideth upon the wings of the wind; and is in communion with all the saints that are in heaven and on earth. Love is quite pure; it hath no by-ends; it seeks not its own; it has but _one will_, and that is, to give itself into every thing, and overcome all evil with good. Lastly, love cometh down from heaven; it regenerateth the soul from above; it blotteth out all transgressions; it taketh from death its sting, from the devil his power, and from the serpent his poison. It healeth all the infirmities of our earthly birth; it gives eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, and makes the dumb to speak; it cleanses the lepers, and casts out devils, and puts man in paradise before he dies. It liveth wholly to the will of him, of whom it is born; its meat and drink is, to do the will of God. It is the resurrection and life of every divine virtue, a fruitful mother of true humility, boundless benevolence, unwearied patience, and bowels of compassion. This _Rusticus_, is the religion of divine love, the true church of God, where the life of God is found, and lived, and to which your friend _Humanus_ is called by us. We direct him to nothing but the inward life of Christ, to the working of the Holy Spirit of God, which alone can deliver him from the evil that is in his own nature, and give him a power to become a Son of God.

_Rusticus._ My neighbour has infinite reason to thank you, for this lovely draught you have given of the spirit of religion. But pray let us now hear, how we are to enter into this love, or rather what God has done to introduce us into it.

_Theophilus._ The beginning of this redeeming love of God, is in _that Immanuel_, or God with us, given to the first _Adam_, as the _seed of the woman_, which in him, and his posterity, should bruise the head and overcome the life of the serpent. This is love indeed, because it is universal, and reaches from the first to the last man. Miserably as mankind are divided, and all at war with one another, every one _appropriating_ God to themselves, yet they all have but one God, who is the Spirit of all, the life of all, and the lover of all. Men may divide themselves, to have God to themselves; they may hate and persecute one another for God’s sake; but this is a blessed truth, that God with an unalterable meekness, sweetness, patience, and good-will towards all, waits for all, calls them all, redeems them all, and comprehends all in the outstretched arms of his ♦catholic love. Ask not therefore how we shall enter into this religion of salvation; we have not far to go to find it. It is every man’s own treasure; it is a root of heaven, a seed of God, sown into our souls; and, like a small grain of mustard-seed, has a power of growing to be a tree of life. Here my friend, you should once for all, observe, _where_ and _what_ the true nature of religion is, its place is within; its work and effect is _within_: its glory, its life, its perfection, is all within; it is the raising a new life and new love in us. This was the spiritual nature of religion in its beginning, and this is its _whole nature_ to the end of time; it is nothing else but the power, and life, and Spirit of God, as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, creating and reviving life in the fallen soul, and driving all its evil out of it.

♦ “catholick” replaced with “catholic”

Here therefore we are come to this firm conclusion, that let religion have ever so many _shapes_, _forms_, or _reformations_, it is no true divine service, no proper _worship_ of God, but so far as it _serves_, _worships_, _conforms_, and _gives_ itself up to this _operation_ of the holy, triune God, as living and dwelling in the soul. Keep close to this idea of religion, as an inward spiritual life in the soul; observe all its works within you, the death and life that are found there; seek for no good, no comfort, but in the awakening of all that is holy and heavenly in your heart; and then, so much as you have of this inward religion, so much you have of a real salvation. For salvation is only a victory over nature; so far as you resist and renounce your own selfish and earthly nature, so far as you overcome all your own natural tempers, so far God lives and operates in you; he is the light, the life, and the spirit of your soul; and you worship him in spirit and in truth. For nothing worships God, but the Spirit of Christ his beloved Son, in whom he is well pleased. This is as true, as that _no man hath known the Father but the Son, and he to whom the Son revealeth him_. Look now at any thing as religion, but a strict conformity to the life and Spirit of Christ; and then, tho’ every day was full of burnt-offerings, and sacrifices, yet you would be only like those religionists, who _drew near to God with their lips, but their hearts were far from him_.

For the heart is always far from God, unless the Spirit of Christ be in it. But no one has the living Spirit of Christ, but he, who in all his conversation walketh as he walked. Consider these words of the apostle, _My little children, of whom I travail in birth, till Christ be formed in you_. This is the sum total of all, and, if this is wanting, all is wanting. Thus saith he, _If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his_; nay, tho’ he could say of himself, (as our Lord says many will) Have I not prophesied in the name of Christ, cast out devils, and done many wonderful works? Yet such a one not being _led by the Spirit of Christ_, is that very man, whose high state the apostle makes to be a mere nothing, because he hath not that spirit of charity, which is the Spirit of Christ. Again, _There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus_; therefore to be in Christ Jesus, is to have that spirit of charity, which is the spirit and life of all virtues. Now here you are to observe, that the apostle no more rejects _all outward_ religion, when he says _circumcision is nothing_, than he rejects _prophesying_, and _faith_, and _alms-giving_, when he says they _profit nothing_; he only teaches this solid truth, that the kingdom of God is within us, and that it all conflicts in the state of our heart; and that therefore all our outward observances, all the most specious virtues, profit nothing, are of no value, unless the hidden man of the heart, the Spirit of Christ, be the doer of them.

Thus, says he, _They who are led by the Spirit of God, are the sons of God_. And therefore none else, be they who, or where, or what they will, clergy or laity, none are, or can be, sons of God, but they who give up themselves to the leading and guidance of the Spirit of God, desiring to be moved, inspired, and governed solely by it. Indeed all scripture brings us to this conclusion, that all religion is but a dead work, unless it be the work of the Spirit of God; and that sacraments, prayers, singing, preaching, hearing, are only so many ways of giving up ourselves more and more to the inward working, enlightening, quickening, sanctifying Spirit of God; and for this end, that the curse of the _fall_ may be swallowed up in victory; and a true, real, Christ-like nature formed in us, by the same Spirit, by which it was formed in the holy Virgin _Mary_. Now for the absolute necessity of this turning wholly to God, the spirit of _Satan_, or the spirit of this world, are, and must be, the one or the other of them, the _continual_ leader, guide, and inspirer of every thing that lives in nature. The moment you cease to be moved, inspired by God, you are moved and directed by the spirit of _Satan_, or the world, or both. *As creatures, we are under an absolute necessity of being under the guidance and inspiration of some spirit, that is greater than our own. All that is in our power, is only the choice of our _leader_; but led and moved we must be, and that by the Spirit of God, or the spirit of fallen nature. To seek therefore to be always under the inspiration and guidance of God’s Holy Spirit, and to act by an immediate power from it, is not enthusiasm, but as sober a thought, as to think of renouncing the world and the devil. For they never can be renounced by us, but so far as the Spirit of God is living, breathing, and moving in us.

_Academicus._ You have taken from me every difficulty or perplexity that I had. It now appears to me with the utmost clearness, that to look for salvation in any thing else, but the Spirit of God working in us, is to be as carnally minded, as ignorant of God and salvation as the Jews were, when their hearts were set upon the glory of their _temple-service_, and a temporal saviour to defend it, by a temporal power. For every thing but the Spirit of God forming Christ in the soul, has and can have no more of salvation in it, than a temporal, fighting saviour. Upon this ground I stand in the utmost certainty, looking wholly to the Spirit of God for an inward redemption from all the inward evil that is in my fallen nature. All that I now want to know is this, what I am to do, to procure this continual operation of the Spirit of God within me.

_Theophilus._ Ask not _Academicus_, what you are to do to obtain the Spirit of God; for your measure of receiving it, is just according to your faith and desire to be led by it. For to this faith, all things are possible, to which all nature, tho’ as high as mountains, and as stiff as oaks, must yield and obey. It heals all diseases, breaks the bands of death, and calls the dead out of their graves.

It is strictly true, that man’s salvation dependeth upon himself; and it is as strictly true, that _all the work_ of his salvation, is _solely_ the work of God in his soul. All his salvation dependeth upon himself, because his _will_ has its power of motion in itself. As a will, it can only receive that which it willeth; every thing else is absolutely shut out of it. For it is the unalterable nature of the will, that it cannot possibly receive any thing into it, but that which it _willeth_; its willing is its only power of receiving; and therefore there can be no possible entrance for God or heaven into the soul, till the _will_ of the soul desireth it; and thus all man’s salvation dependeth upon himself. On the other hand, nothing can create, effect, the divine life in the soul, but that _Spirit_ of God, which brings forth the divine life in heaven. And thus the _work_ of our salvation is wholly and solely the work of God, dwelling and operating in us. Thus, you see that God is all; that nothing but _his life_ and _working-power_ in us, can be our salvation; and yet that nothing but the _spirit of prayer_ can make it _possible_ for us to have it. And therefore neither you, nor any other human soul, can be _without_ the operation of the Spirit of God in it, but because its _will_ or its spirit of _prayer_ is turned towards something else; for we are always in union with _that_, with which our will is united. Again: Look at the light and air of this world, you see with what a freedom of communication they _overflow_ and _enliven_ every thing; they enter every where, if not hindered by _something_ that withstands their entrance. This may represent to you the _ever-overflowing_, free communication of the light and Spirit of God, to every human soul. They are every where; we are encompassed with them; our souls are as near to them, as our bodies are to the light and air of this world; nothing shuts them out of us, but the will and desire of our souls turned from them, and _praying_ for something else. I say, _praying_ for something else; for you are to notice this as a certain truth, that every man’s life is a _continual state_ of prayer; he is no moment free from it, nor can possibly be so. For all our natural tempers, be they what they will, ambition, covetousness, selfishness, worldly-mindedness, pride, envy, hatred, malice, or any other lust whatever, are all of them in reality only so many different _forms_ of a _spirit of prayer_, which is as inseparable from the heart, as weight is from the body. For every natural temper is a manifestation of the desire and prayer of the heart, and shews us, how it works and wills. And as the heart worketh, and willeth, _such_, and no other, is its prayer. All else is only _form_ and _fiction_, and empty beating of the air. If therefore the desire of the heart is not habitually turned towards God, we are necessarily in a state of prayer towards something else, that carries us from God. For this is the necessity of our nature; pray we must, as sure as we are alive; and therefore when the state of our heart is not a spirit of prayer to God, we pray _without ceasing_ to some or other part of the creation. The man whose heart habitually tends towards the riches, honours, powers, or pleasures of this life, is in a _continual_ state of prayer towards all these things. His spirit stands always _bent_ towards them; they have his hope, his love, his faith, and are the many gods that he worships: And tho’ when he is upon his knees, and uses forms of prayer, he directs them to the God of heaven; yet these are in reality the gods of his heart, and in a sad sense of the words, he really worships them in spirit and in truth. Hence you may see how it comes to pass, that there is so much praying, and yet so little true piety amongst us. The _bells_ are daily calling us to church, our _closets_ abound with _manuals_ of devotion, yet how little fruit! It is all for this reason, because our prayers are not _our own_; they are not the abundance of _our own_ heart; are not _found_ and _felt_ within us, as we feel our own hunger and thirst; but are only so many _borrowed forms_ of speech, which we use at certain times, and occasions. And therefore it is no wonder that little good comes of it. What benefit could it have been to the _Pharisee_, if, with an heart inwardly full of its own pride and self-exaltation, he had outwardly hung down his head, smote upon his breast, and borrowed the _Publican_’s words, _God be merciful to me a sinner_? What greater good can be expected from our saying the words of _David_, or singing his psalms seven times a day, if our heart hath no more of the spirit of _David_ in it, than the heart of the _Pharisee_ had, of the spirit of the humble _Publican_?

_Academicus._ O _Theophilus_, I consent to what you say; and yet I am afraid of following you: for you seem to condemn forms of prayer in public, and _manuals_ of devotion in private.

_Theophilus._ Dear _Academicus_, abate your fright. Can you think, that I am against your praying in the words of _David_, or breathing his spirit in your prayers, or that I would censure your singing his psalms seven times a day? At three several times we are told, our Lord prayed, repeating the _same form of words_; and therefore a set form of words are not only consistent with, but may be highly suitable to, the most divine spirit of prayer. If your own heart, for days and weeks, were unable to alter, or break off from inwardly thinking and saying, _Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done_; if at other times, it stood always inwardly in another form of prayer, saying, _Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, with all thy holy nature, Spirit, and tempers, into my soul; that I may be born again of thee, a new creature_; I should be so far from censuring this, that I should say, Blessed are they whose hearts are tied to such a form of words. It is not therefore a set form that is spoken against, but an _heartless_ form, a form that has no relation to, or correspondence with, the state of the heart that uses it. All that I have said is only to teach you the true nature of prayer, that it is the work of the heart, and that the heart only prays in reality (whatever its words are) for that which it habitually _wills_, _likes_, _loves_, and _longs_ to have. It is not therefore the using the words of _David_, or any other saint, in your prayers, that is censured, but the using them without that state of heart, which first spake them forth; and the trusting to them, because they are a good form; tho’ in our hearts we have nothing that is like them. It would be good to say incessantly with holy _David_, _My heart is athirst for God. As the hart desireth the water-brooks, so longeth my soul after thee, O God._ But there is no goodness in saying daily these words, if no _such thirst_ is felt in the heart. And, you may easily know that numbers of repeated forms, keep men content with their state, because they make use of such holy prayers; tho’ their hearts, from morning to night, are in a state quite contrary to them, and join no farther in them, than in liking to use them at certain times.

_Academicus._ I acquiesce, _Theophilus_, in the truth of what you have said, and plainly see the necessity of condemning what you have condemned; which is not the form, but the _heartless_ form. But still I have a scruple upon me: I shall be almost afraid of going to church, where there are so many good prayers offered up to God, as suspecting they may not be the language of my own heart, and so become only a _lip-labour_.

_Theophilus._ I do not dislike your scruple at all; you do well to be afraid of saying any thing to God, which your heart does not truly say. It is also good for you to think, that many of the prayers of the church may go higher, than your heart can go along with them. For this will put you upon a right care over yourself, so to live, that, as a true son of your mother the church, your heart may be able to speak her language, and find delight in the spirit of her prayers. But this will only then come to pass, when the spirit of prayer is the spirit of your heart; then every good word, whether in a form, or out of a form, will be as suitable to your heart, as gratifying to it, as food is to the hungry, and drink to the thirsty soul. But till the spirit of the heart is thus renewed, till it is _emptied_ of all earthly desires, and stands in an _habitual_ hunger and thirst after God (which is the true spirit of prayer) all our forms of prayer will be, more or less, but too much like _lessons_ that are given to _scholars_. But be not discouraged, _Academicus_; take the following advice, and you may go to church without any danger of a mere lip-labour; altho’ there should be a _psalm_, or a _prayer_, whose language is higher than that of your own heart. Do this: Go to the church, as the _Publican_ went into the temple; stand _inwardly_ in the spirit of your mind, in that _form_ which he outwardly expressed, when he cast down his eyes, smote upon his breast, and could only say, God be merciful to me a sinner! Stand unchangeably (at least in your desire) in _this form_ and state of heart; it will sanctify every petition that comes out of your mouth; and when any thing is read, or sung, or prayed, that is more exalted than your heart is, if you make this an occasion of a farther _sinking down_ in the spirit of the _Publican_, you will then be helped, and highly blessed, by those prayers and praises, which seem only to fit a better heart than yours.

This, my friend, will help you to reap where you have not sown, and be a continual source of grace in your soul. This will not only help you to receive good from those prayers, which seem too good for the state of your heart, but will help you to find good from every thing else: for every thing that inwardly stirs in you, or outwardly happens to you, becomes a real good to you, if it either finds or excites in you this humble form of mind: for nothing is in vain, or without profit, to the humble soul; like the bee, it takes its honey even from bitter herbs; it stands always in a state of divine growth; and every thing that falls upon it, is like a dew of heaven to it. Shut up yourself therefore in this humility, all good is inclosed in it. Let it be as a garment wherewith you are always covered, and the girdle with which you are girt; breathe nothing but in and from its spirit; see nothing but with its eyes; hear nothing but with its ears: and then, whether you are in the church, or out of the church; hearing the praises of God, or receiving wrongs from men; all will be edification, and every thing will help forward your growth in the life of God.

_Academicus._ Indeed, _Theophilus_, this answer to my scruple is good. All my desire now is, to live no longer to the world, to myself, my natural tempers and passions, but wholly to the will of the blessed and adorable God.

*_Theophilus._ This resolution, _Academicus_, only shews that you are just come to yourself; for every thing short of this earnest desire to live wholly unto God, may be called a most dreadful infatuation or madness, and insensibility that cannot be described. For what else is our life, but a _trial_ for the greatest evil, or good that an eternity can give us? What can be so dreadful, as to die possessed of a wicked immortal nature, or to go out of this world with tempers, that must keep us for ever miserable? What has God not done to prevent this? His redeeming love began with our fall, and calls every man to salvation, and every man is forced to hear, tho’ he will not obey his voice. God has so loved the world, that his only Son hung and expired, bleeding on the cross for us. Are we yet sons of pride, and led away with vanity? Do the powers of darkness rule over us? Do evil spirits possess and drive on our lives? Is remorse of conscience no longer felt? Are falshood, guile, debauchery, profaneness, perjury, bribery, corruption, and adultery, no longer seeking to hide themselves in corners, but openly entering into all our high places, giving battle to every virtue, and laying claim to the government of the world? Are we thus near being swallowed up by a deluge of vice and impiety? All this is not come upon us, because God has left us without help from heaven, or exposed us to the powers of hell; but because we have rejected and despised the _whole mystery_ of our salvation, and trampled under foot the precious blood of Christ, which alone has that omnipotence that can either bring heaven into us, or drive hell out of us. O _Britain, Britain_, think that the Son of God saith unto thee, as he said, _O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered thy children, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate._ And now let me say, what aileth thee, O _British_ earth, that thou _quakest_, and the foundations of thy churches that they _totter_? Just _that same_ aileth thee, as ailed _Judah_’s earth, when the divine Saviour of the world, dying on the cross, was _reviled_, _scorned_, and _mocked_, by the inhabitants of _Jerusalem_; then the _earth quaked, the rocks rent_, and the sun refused to give its light. Nature again declares for God, the earth and the elements can no longer bear our sins: _Jerusalem_’s doom for _Jerusalem_’s sin, may well be feared by us. O ye miserable _pens_ dipt in _Satan_’s ink, that dare to publish the folly of believing in Jesus Christ, where will you hide your guilty heads when nature dissolved, shall shew you the rainbow, on which the crucified Saviour shall sit in judgment, and every work receive its reward? O tremble! ye _apostate_ sons, that come out of the schools of Christ, to fight _Lucifer_’s battles, and do that for him, which neither he, nor his legions can do for themselves. Their inward pride, malice and rage against God, and Christ, and human nature, have no _pens_ but yours, no _apostles_ but you. They must be forced to work in the dark, to steal privately into impure hearts, could they not beguile you into a fond _belief_, that you are _lovers_ of truth, _friends_ of reason, _detectors_ of fraud, great _genius_’s, and _moral philosophers_, merely, because ye blaspheme Christ, and the gospel of God. Poor deluded souls, rescued from hell by the blood of Christ, called by God to possess the thrones of fallen angels, permitted to live only by the mercy of God, that ye may be born again, my heart bleeds for you. Think, I beseech you, in time, what mercies ye are trampling under your feet. Say not that reason, and your intellectual faculties, stand in your way; that these are the _best gifts_ which God has given you, and that these suffer you not to come to Christ. All this is as vain a pretence, and as gross a mistake as if ye were to say, that you had nothing but your _feet_ to carry you to heaven. For your _heart_ is the best and greatest _gift_ of God to you; it is the highest, greatest, and noblest _power_ of your nature; it forms your whole life, be what it will; all evil and all good comes from it; your heart alone has the key of life and death; it does all that it will; reason is but its _play-thing_, and whether in time or eternity, can only be a _mere beholder_ of the _wonders_ of happiness, or _forms_ of misery, which the right or wrong working of the heart has caused.

*I will give you a touch-stone. Offer as continually as you can, this following form of prayer to God. Offer it frequently on your knees; but, whether sitting, standing, or walking, be always inwardly longing, and earnestly praying this _one prayer_ to God: “That, of his great goodness, he would make known to you, and take from your heart, every _kind_, and _form_, and _degree_ of pride, whether it be from evil spirits, or your own corrupt nature; and that he would awaken in you the _depth_ and _truth_ of all that humility, which can make you capable of his light and Holy Spirit.” Reject every thought, but that of wishing, and praying in this manner from the bottom of your heart, with such truth and earnestness, as people in torment wish and pray to be delivered from it. Now if ye dare not, if your hearts will not, cannot give themselves up in this manner to the spirit of this prayer, then the _touch-stone_ has done its work, and ye may be as fully assured both what your infidelity is, and from what it proceeds, as ye can be of the plainest truth in nature. This will shew you, how vainly you appeal to your _reason_, as the cause of your infidelity: that it is full as false and absurd, as if _thieves_ and _adulterers_ should say, that their theft and adultery was entirely owing to their bodily eyes, which shewed them external objects, and not to any thing that was _wrong_ in their hearts. On the other hand, if you can, and will give yourselves up in _sincerity_ to this spirit of prayer, I will venture to affirm, that if ye had twice as many evil spirits in you, as _Mary Magdalen_ had, they will all be cast out of you, and ye will be forced with her, to weep with tears of love, at the feet of the holy Jesus.

But here, my friends, I stop, that we may return to the matter we had in hand.

_Rusticus._ You have made no digression _Theophilus_, from our main point, which was to recommend Christianity to poor _Humanus_. He must, I am sure, have felt the death’s-blows, that you have here given to the infidel scheme. Their _idol_ of reason, which is the vain god they worship, is here like _Dagon_ fallen to the ground. _Humanus_ is caught by your bait of love, and I dare say wants only to have this conversation ended, that he may try himself, by this divine _touch-stone_, which you have put into his hands.

_Academicus._ Give me leave, gentlemen, to add one word. _Theophilus_ has fairly pulled _reason_ out of its usurped throne, and shewn it to be a powerless, idle _toy_, when compared to the royal strength of the heart, which is the kingly power, that has all the government of life in its hands.

But now, _Theophilus_, I beg we may return to that very point concerning prayer, where we left off. I think my heart is entirely devoted to God: and that I desire nothing but to live in such a state of prayer, as may best keep me under the guidance and direction of the Holy Spirit. Assist me therefore, in this important matter; give me the fullest directions that you can; and if you have any _manual_ of devotion, that you prefer, or any method that you would put me in, pray let me know it.

_Rusticus._ I beg leave to speak a word to _Academicus_. Ask not _Academicus_, for a book of prayers; but ask your heart what is within it, what it _feels_, how it _stirs_, what it _wants_, what it would have altered, what it desires; and then, instead of calling upon _Theophilus_ for assistance, stand in the same form of petition to God.

For this turning to God according to the inward _feeling_, _want_, and _motion_ of your own heart, in love, in trust of having from him all that you want, and wish, is the best form of prayer in the world.――――*Now no man can be ignorant of the state of his own heart, or a stranger to those tempers, that are stirring in him; and what should be the form of his prayer, but that which the state of his heart demands? If you know of no trouble, feel no burden, want nothing to be altered, or removed, nothing to be increased or strengthened in you, how can you pray for any thing of this kind? But if your heart knows its own plague, feels its inward evil, knows what it wants to have removed, will you not let your distress form the manner of your prayer? Or will you pray in a form of words, that have no more agreement with your state, than if a man walking above-ground, should beg every man he met, to pull him out of a deep pit? For prayers not formed according to the _real state_ of your heart, are but like a prayer to be pulled out of a deep well, when you are not in it. Hence you may see, how unreasonable it is to make a mystery of prayer, or an art, that needs so much instruction; since every man is, and only can be, directed by his own inward state, and condition, when and how, and what he is to pray for, as every man’s outward state shews him what he outwardly wants.

_Academicus._ I did not imagine, _Rusticus_, that you would have so openly declared against _manuals_ of devotion, since you know not only the most learned, but the most pious doctors of the church, consider them as necessary helps to devotion.

_Rusticus._ If you was obliged to go a long journey on _foot_, and yet through a weakness in your legs could not set one foot before another, you would do well to get the best travelling crutches that you could.

But if, with sound and good legs, you would not stir one step, till you had got _crutches_ to hop with; surely a man might shew you the folly of not walking with your own legs, without being thought an enemy to crutches, or the makers of them. Now a _manual_ is not so good an help, as _crutches_, and yet you see crutches are only proper, when our legs cannot do their office. It is, I say, not so good an help as crutches, because that which you do with the crutches, is that very same thing, that you should have done with your legs: you _really_ travel; but when the heart cannot take one step in prayer, and you therefore read your manual, you do not do that very same thing, which your heart should have done, that is, _really_ pray. A fine manual therefore is not to be considered as a means of praying, or as something that puts you in a state of prayer, as crutches help you to travel; but its chief use to a dead and hardened heart, that has no prayer of its own, is to shew it, what a _state_ and _spirit_ of prayer it _wants_, and at what a sad distance it is from feeling all that variety of humble, penitent, grateful, fervent, resigned, loving sentiments, which are described in the manual, that so, being touched with a view of its own miserable state, it may begin its own prayer to God for help. But I have done. _Theophilus_ may now answer your earnest request.

_Theophilus._ Your earnest desire, _Academicus_, to live in the spirit of prayer, and be truly governed by it, is a most excellent desire; for to be a man of prayer is that which the apostle means by _living in the Spirit, and having our conversation in heaven_. It is to have done, not only with the confessed vices, but with the allowed follies and vanities of this world. To tell such a soul of the innocency of levity, that it need not run away from idle discourse, vain gaiety, and trifling mirth, as being the harmless relief of our heavy natures, is like telling the flame, that it need not ascend upwards. But here you are to observe, that this spirit of prayer is not to be taught you by a book, or brought into you by an art from without; but must arise from within, from the _painful_ sense and feeling of what you are. And its first prayer is nothing else but a sense of penitence, self-condemnation, confession, and humility. It feels nothing but its own misery, and so is all humility. This prayer of humility is met by the divine love, the mercifulness of God embraces it; and then its prayer is changed into hymns, and songs, and thanksgivings. When this state of fervour has done its work, has melted away all earthly passions and affections, and left no inclination in the soul, but to delight in God alone, then its prayer changes again. It is now come so near to God, has found such union with him, that it does not so much pray as live in God. Its prayer is not any particular faculty, not confined to times, or words, or place, but is the work of his whole being, which continually stands in fulness of faith, in purity of love, in absolute resignation, to do, and be, what and how his beloved pleaseth. This is the last state of the spirit of prayer, and is its highest union with God in this life. Each of these states has its time, its variety of workings, its trials, temptations, and purifications, which can only be known by experience in the passage through them. The _one infallible_ way to go safely through all the difficulties, trials, temptations, or opposition, of our own evil tempers is this: to expect nothing from ourselves, to trust to nothing in ourselves, but in every thing expect, and depend upon God. Keep fast hold of this thread, and then let your way be what it will, darkness, temptation, or the rebellion of nature, you will be led through all, to an union with God: for nothing hurts us in any state, but an expectation of something in it, and from it, which we should only expect from God. We are looking for our own virtue, our _own_ piety, our _own_ goodness, and so live on and on in our _own_ poverty and weakness; to-day pleased and comforted with the seeming strength and firmness of our own pious tempers; to-morrow, fallen into our own mire, we are dejected, but not humbled; we grieve, but it is only the grief of pride, at seeing our perfection not to be such as we vainly imagined. And thus it will be, till the _whole turn_ of our minds is so changed, that we as fully see and know our inability to have any goodness of our own, as to have a life of our own.

*When we are brought to this conviction, then we have done with all thought of being our own builders; the whole spirit of our mind is become a mere _faith_, and _hope_, and _trust_ in the sole operation of God’s Spirit, looking no more to any other power, to become new creatures, than we look to any other power for the resurrection of our bodies at the last day. Hence may be seen, that the trials of every state are its greatest blessings; they do that for us, which we most of all want to have done, they force us to know our own _nothingness_, and the _all_ of God.

*The soul is always safe in every state, if it makes every thing an occasion either of rising up, or falling down into the hands of God, and exercising faith, and trust, and resignation to him. And therefore the pious soul that eyes only God, that means nothing but being his alone, can have no stop put to its progress; joy and heaviness equally assist him; in the joy he looks up to God; in the heaviness he lays hold on God, and so they both do him the same good.

The best instruction that I can give you, as preparatory to the spirit of prayer, is already fully given, where we have set forth the original perfection, the miserable fall, and the glorious redemption of man. It is the true knowledge of these great things that can do all for you, which human instruction can do. These things must fill you with a dislike of your present state, and create an earnest longing after your first perfection. For prayer cannot be taught you, by giving you a book of prayers, but by awakening in you a sense of what you are, and what you should be; that so you may see, and know, and feel, what things you want, and are to pray for. For a man does not, cannot pray for any thing because a fine petition for it is put into his hands, but because his _own_ condition is a _reason_ and _motive_ for his asking for it. And therefore it is, that this tract began with a discovery of these high and important matters, at the sight of which the world, and all that is in it, shrinks into nothing, and every thing past, present, and to come, awakens in our hearts a continual prayer, and longing desire, after God and eternity.

_Academicus._ But surely you do not take this to be right in general, that the common people, who are mostly of low understandings, should kneel down in private, without any form of prayer, saying only what comes into their own heads.

_Theophilus._ It would be wrong to condemn a manual _as such_, or to say that none ought to make use of it; but it cannot be wrong, to shew, that prayer is the natural language of the heart, and such, does not want any form or borrowed words. Now all that has been said of manuals of prayers, only amounts to thus much; that they are not necessary, nor the most natural and excellent way of praying. If they happen to be necessary to any person, it is because the natural prayer of his heart is already engaged, loving, wishing, and longing after, the things of this life; which makes him so insensible of his spiritual wants, so blind and dead to the things of God, that he cannot pray for them, but so far as the words of other people are put into his mouth.

But when a man has had so much benefit from the gospel, as to know his own want of a Redeemer, who he is, and how he is to be found; there every thing seems to be done, both to awaken and direct his prayer, and make it a true praying in and by the spirit. For when the heart really pants after God, its prayer is a praying, as moved by the Spirit of God; it is the breath or inspiration of God, stirring, moving, and opening itself in the heart. Nothing can have the least desire to ascend to heaven, but that which came down from heaven; and therefore nothing in the heart can pray, and long after God, but the Spirit of God moving and stirring in it. Every breath therefore of the true spirit of prayer, is nothing else but the Spirit of God, breathing, inspiring, and moving the heart, in all its variety of motions and affections, towards God. And therefore every time a good desire stirs in the heart, a good prayer goes out of it, that reaches God, as being the fruit and work of his holy Spirit. When any man, feeling his corruption, looks up to God, with desire to be delivered from it, whether with words or without words, how can he pray better? What need of any change of thoughts, or words, or any variety of expressions, when the one desire of his heart made known to God, and continued in, is not only all, but the most perfect prayer he can make? Again, suppose the soul in another state, feeling with joy its offered Redeemer, and opening its heart for the full reception of him; if it stands in this state of wishing and longing for Christ, how can its prayer be in an higher degree?

Or if it breaks out frequently in these words, _Come Lord Jesus, come quickly, with all thy holy nature, Spirit, and tempers into my soul_, is there any occasion to enlarge or alter these words into another form or expression? Can he do better, or pray more, than by continually standing from time to time in this state of wishing for Christ? Nay, is it not likely, that his heart should be more divided and dissipated by a numerous change of expressions, than by keeping united to one expression that sets forth all that he wants? For it is the reality, the steadiness, and continuance of the desire, that is the goodness of prayer. Our Lord said to one that came to him, What wilt thou that I should do unto thee? He answered, _Lord, that I may receive my sight_: and he received it. Another said, _Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean_: and he was cleansed. Tell me what learning, or fine parts, are required to make such prayers as these? And yet what wonders of relief are recorded in scripture, as given to such short prayers as these! And what blessing may not now be obtained in the same way, and with as few words? Every man therefore that has any feeling of the weight of his sin, or any desire to be delivered from it by Christ, has learning and capacity enough to make his own prayer. For praying is not speaking eloquently, but simply, the true desire of the heart; and the heart, simple and plain in good desires, is in the truest preparation for all the gifts of God. And the most simple souls, that have accustomed themselves to speak their own desires and wants to God, in such short, but true breathings of their hearts, will soon know more of prayer, than any persons who have only their knowledge from learning, and learned books.

*And yet it is not either silence, or a simple petition, or a great variety of outward expressions, that alters the nature of prayer, or makes it to be good or better, but only and solely the reality, steadiness, and continuance of the desire; and therefore whether a man offer this desire to God in the silent longing of the heart, or in simple, short, petitions, or in a great _variety_ of words, is of no consequence; but all are equally good, when the true and right state of the heart is with them.

All that I have said of prayer, has been only to this end: to shew its real nature; whence it is to arise; where it is to be found: and how you are to begin, and become a true proficient in it. If, therefore, you was at present to look no farther, than how to begin to practise a prayer proceeding from your heart, and continue in it, leaving all that you are farther to know of prayer, to be known in its time by experience: this would be much better for you, than to be asking before-hand about such things, as are not your immediate concern.

Begin to be a man of prayer, in this easy, simple, and natural manner, that has been set before you; and when you are faithful to this method, you will then need no other instructor in the art of prayer. Your own heart thus turned to God will want no one to tell it, when it should be simple in its petitions, or _various_ in its expressions: or prostrate itself in silence before God. But this hastiness of knowing things, before they belong to us, is very common. Thus a man that has but just entered upon the reformation of his life, shall want to read or hear a discourse upon _perfection_, whether it be attainable or not; and shall be more eager after what he can hear of this, though at such a distance, than of such things as concern the next step he is to take.