Chapter XII: Christians are called to a constant State of Prayer and Devotion.

Christians are called to a constant State of Prayer and Devotion.

It is one principal article of our religion, to believe that our blessed Saviour is now at the right hand of God, there making perpetual intercession for us, till the redemption of mankind is finished. Prayer therefore is, undoubtedly, a proper means of drawing near to God, a necessary method of restoring sinners to his favour; since he, who has conquered sin and death, who is constituted Lord of all, is yet, as the great advocate for sinners, obliged to make perpetual intercession for them.

Whenever therefore we are in the spirit of prayer, when our hearts are lifted up to God, breathing out holy petitions to the throne of grace, we have this encouragement to be constant and fervent in it, that we are then joining with an intercession at the right hand of God, and doing that for ourselves on earth which our blessed Saviour is perpetually doing for us in heaven. This reason of prayer is, perhaps, not much considered; yet it certainly contains a most powerful motive to it. For who, that considers his redemption as now carrying on by an intercession in heaven, can think himself so agreeable to God, so like his Saviour, as when the constancy of his own prayers bears some resemblance to that never-ceasing intercession which is made above? This shows us also, that we are most of all to desire those prayers which are offered up at the altar, where the body and blood of Christ are joined with them. For as our prayers are only acceptable to God through the merits of Jesus Christ; so we may be sure that we are praying to God in the most prevailing way, when we thus pray in the name of Christ, and plead his merits in the highest manner that we can.

Devotion may be considered either as an exercise of public or private prayers at set times and occasions, or as a temper of the mind, a state and disposition of the heart, which is rightly affected with such exercises. Now external acts of devotion are like other external actions, very liable to falseness, and are only so far good and valuable as they proceed from a right disposition of heart and mind. Zealous professions of friendship are but the more abominable hypocrisy for being often repeated, unless there be an equal zeal in the heart; so solemn prayers, rapturous devotions, are but repeated hypocrisies, unless the heart and mind be conformable to them. Since, therefore, it is the heart only that is devout; since the regularity and fervency of the heart is the regularity and fervency of devotion; I shall consider devotion chiefly in this respect, as it is a state and temper of the heart. For it is in this sense only, that Christians are called to a constant state of devotion; they are not to be always on their knees in acts of prayer, but they are to be always in the state and temper of devotion.

Friendship does not require us to be always waiting upon our friends in external services; these offices have their times and seasons of intermission; it is only the service of the heart, the friendship of the mind, that is never to intermit; it is not to begin and end, as external services do, but it is to persevere in a constancy like the motion of our heart, or the beating of our pulse. It is just so in devotion; prayers have their hours, their beginning and ending; but that turn of mind, that disposition of the heart towards God, which is the life and spirit of prayer, is to be as constant and lasting as our own life and spirit.

The repeating of a creed at certain times is an act of faith; but that faith, which overcometh the world, stays neither for times nor seasons, but is a living principle of the soul, that is always believing, trusting, and depending upon God. In the same manner verbal prayers are acts of devotion; but that prayer which saveth, which openeth the gates of heaven, stops not at forms and manuals of devotion, but is a language of the soul, a judgment of the heart, which worships, adores, and delights in God, at all times and seasons.

The necessity and reason of prayer is, like all other duties of piety, founded in the nature of God, and the nature of man. It is founded in the nature of God, as he is the sole fountain and cause of all happiness; it is founded in the nature of man, as he is weak and helpless, and full of wants. So that prayer is an earnest application or ascent of the heart to God, as to the sole cause of all happiness. He, therefore, that most truly feels the misery, corruption, and weakness of his own nature, who is most fully convinced that a relief from all these disorders, and a true happiness, is to be found in God alone; he who is most fully convinced of these two truths is most fully possessed of the spirit of prayer. There is but one way, therefore, to arrive at a true state of devotion; and that is, to get right notions of ourselves, and of the divine nature; that having a full view of the relation we bear to God, our souls may as constantly aspire to him as they constantly aspire after happiness. This also shows us the absolute necessity of all those forementioned doctrines of humility, self-denial, and renunciation of the world. For if devotion is founded in a sense of the poverty, misery, and weakness of our nature, then nothing can more effectually destroy the spirit of devotion than pride, vanity, and indulgence of any kind. These things stop the breath of prayer, and as necessarily extinguish the flame of devotion, as water extinguishes common fire.

If prayer is also founded in right notions of God; in believing him to be the sole fountain and cause of all our happiness; then every thing that takes this truth out of our minds, that makes us less sensible of it, makes us so far less capable of devotion; so that worldly cares, vain pleasures, false satisfactions, are all to be renounced, that we may be able to pray. For the spirit of prayer has no farther hold of us, than so far as we see our wants, imperfections, and weakness, and likewise the infinite fullness and all-sufficiency of God; when we thoroughly feel these two great truths, then are we in the true spirit of prayer.

Would you, therefore, be in the state and temper of devotion, you must practise all those ways of life that may humble you in your own sight; you must forbear all those indulgences and vanities which blind your heart, and give you false notions of yourself; you must seek that way of life, accustom yourself to such practices, as may best convince you of the vanity of the world, and the littleness of every thing but God. This is the only foundation of prayer. When you do not enough see either your own littleness, or the greatness of God; when you either seek for pleasure in yourself, or think that it is any where to be found, except in God, you put yourself out of a state of devotion. For you can desire nothing but what you think you want; and you can desire it only in such a degree as you feel the want of it. It is certain therefore, that whatever lessens or abates the feeling of your own wants, whatever takes you from looking to God, as the only possible relief of them, so far lessens and abates the spirit and fervour of your devotion.

We sometimes exhort people to fervour in devotion; but this can only mean as to the outward acts of it: for to exhort people to be fervent in devotion, as that implies a temper of the heart, is to as little purpose as to exhort people to be merry, or to be sorry. For these tempers always follow the judgments and opinions of our minds; when we perceive things to be as we like them, then we are merry; when we find things in a contrary state, then we are sorry. It comes to pass after the same manner in devotion; bid a man be fervent in devotion; tell him it is an excellent temper; he knows no more how to go about it than how to be merry, because he is bid to be so. Stay till old age, till sickness, misfortunes, or the approach of death, has convinced him that he has nothing good in himself; that there is nothing valuable in the world; that all that is good, or great, or glorious, is in God alone; and then he will find himself as disposed to devotion, and zealous desires after God, as the man is disposed to cheerfulness, who sees things in that state in which he would have them to be. So that the one and the only way to be devout, is to see and feel our own weakness, the vanity of the world, and greatness of God, as dying men see and feel them. It is as impossible to be devout without seeing things in this view, as it is impossible to be cheerful without perceiving some thing in our condition that is according to our mind. Hence therefore we may learn to admire the wisdom and divinity of the Christian religion, which calls all its members to humility, self-denial, and a renunciation of worldly tempers, as a necessary foundation of piety and devotion. It was in these practices that our Saviour first instituted his religion; it was on these conditions, that the apostles embraced it, and taught it to others; it was in these doctrines that the primitive Christians became such worthy followers of our Saviour and his apostles. These doctrines are still in the Gospel, and till they are to be found in our lives we shall never find ourselves in a state of devotion. For I must again repeat what my reader cannot too much reflect upon, that since devotion is an earnest application of the soul to God, as the only cause and fountain of happiness, that it is impossible for the soul to have this desire, without having such reasons to produce and support it, as are necessary to produce and support other tempers of the mind.

Now it is impossible for a man to grieve when he finds his condition answering his desires, or to be overjoyed when he finds his state to be full of misery; yet this is as possible, as consistent with our nature, as for a man to aspire after, and delight in God as his only happiness, whilst he is delighting in himself, and the vanity of the world. So that to pretend to devotion without great humility, and an entire renunciation of all worldly tempers, is to pretend to impossibilities; it is as if a man should pretend to be cheerful whilst he is in vexation and impatience; he must first bring himself to a state of satisfaction and contentment, and then cheerfulness will flow from it; so he that would be devout, must first be humble, have a full view of his own miseries and wants, and the vanity of the world, and then his soul will be full of desires after God. A proud, or vain, or worldly-minded man, may use a manual of prayers; but he cannot be devout, because devotion is the application of an humble heart to God; as its only happiness.

Hence we may also perceive why people of learning and great application to books, who seem to have retired from the corruptions of the world, to spend that time in their studies, are yet often not devout. The reason is, because devotion is founded in great humility, and a full sense of the vanity and littleness of every thing but God; whereas it is often the same vanity that wears out some scholars in their studies, that wears out other people at court, in the camp, or at sea. They do not want to be merchants, or colonels, or secretaries of state; but they want to be critics, grammarians, and historians. They, it may be, disregard riches and equipage; despise the sports and diversions of the present age; avoid the folly of conversation; but then it is to contemplate the riches and equipage, the sports, and diversions of the ancient Romans.

The vanity of some ladies and gentlemen would be touched if you should tell them that they did not understand dress: some great scholars would be much dejected if you should suppose them ignorant of a fold in the Roman garments.

The bulk of mankind are so dull and tasteless, so illiterate, as to set their hearts upon current coin, large fields, and flocks and herds of cattle. Great learning has raised some men above this grossness of taste; their heart only beats at the sight of a medal and ancient coins; they are only afraid of dying before they have outdone the world in their collections of shells, skins, stones, animals, flies, and insects.

You would not expect that a merchant should be devout because he traded in all parts of Europe; or that a lady should be pious, because she understands all sorts of fine work and embroidery. Now if you was to look into the business of many pro found scholars; if you was to consider the nature of such learning as makes the greatest figure in the world, you will find no more tendency in it to piety and devotion, than there is in merchandise or embroidery.

When men retire into their studies to change their nature, to correct and reform their passions; to find out the folly, the falseness, the corruption, and weakness of their hearts; to penetrate into the vanity and emptiness of all worldly attainments; when they read and meditate to fill their souls with religious wisdom and heavenly affections, and to raise their hearts unto God; when this is learning (and what else deserves the name), then learning will lead men unto God, learned men will be very devout, and great scholars will be great saints.

Hence we also learn why so many people, seemingly religious, are yet strangers to the spirit of devotion. Crito buys manuals of devotion, he finds nothing in them but what is according to the doctrines of religion; yet he is not able to keep pace with them; he feels nothing of what he reads, and throws them by, as something that does not suit his taste: he does not consider that the fault is in himself, and that these very same books will suit him when he is dying. He does not consider, that whilst he is so well pleased with himself, so fond of the world, so delighted with a variety of schemes that he has on foot, it is as impossible for him to be devout as for a stone to hang by itself in the air, or a building to stand without any thing to stand upon. If Crito was to begin his devotion to God with humility, self-denial, and a renunciation of all worldly tempers, he would show that he used common sense in his religion, that he was as wise as that builder who begins his house by laying a foundation. But to think of adding devotion to a life that does not naturally lead to it, that is not so ordered as to be so many steps towards it, is as ab- and as if a man should think of getting to the end of his journey, without going through any of the way that leads to it: For as it is a temper of the mind, it must arise from a state of our mind, and must have its proper causes to produce it, as all other tempers have.

Suppose you was to call a man from some joyful feast, from the pleasures of songs, music and dancing, and tell him to go into the next room to grieve for half an hour, and then return to his mirth; suppose you was to tell him, that he must mourn that half-hour from the bottom of his heart, that it was a very excellent thing, and highly becoming a rational creature. It is possible he might obey you so far as to go into the room appointed for mourning, he may be able to sit still, look grave, sigh and hang down his head, and stay out his half hour; but you are sure that he cannot really grieve, and for this reason, because he is in a state of festival joy, and is returning to his feast.

Now this is the state of Crito, and great numbers of Christians; they are always at a feast; their life is nothing else but a succession of such pleasures, satisfactions, and amusements, as affect and hurry their minds, like the festival joys of drinking, music, and dancing. So that when they go to devotion, they are just as capable of it, as a man that is rejoicing at a feast is capable of mourning at the same time.

Let not the reader imagine that this is the case only of such great people, as live in such a constant scene of pleasure as their fortunes can procure, for it is a case that equally concerns almost all states of life. For as a man rejoicing at an ordinary feast, is as indisposed for grief as one that is merry at a more splendid entertainment; so the course of pleasures and worldly delights, which falls in with lower states of life, may render such people as incapable of devotion, as they are, who have other entertainments provided for them. Now no one wonders that he cannot put on grief, when he is rejoicing at a feast of any kind; because he knows there is sufficient reason for it, because his mind is then otherwise engaged. But if Crito would but deal thus faithfully with himself, he would as readily own, that he cannot relish strains of devotion, that his heart does not enter into them, for this reason, because it is otherwise engaged. For people certainly relish every thing that suits with the state of life that they live, and can have no taste or relish, but such as arises from the way and manner of life that they are in. Whoever therefore finds himself unable to relish strains of devotion, is dull and unaffected with them, may take it for certain, that it is owing to the way and state of life that he is in: he may also be farther assured, that his life is wanting in the virtues of humility, self-denial, and a renunciation of worldly goods, since these virtues as naturally prepare and dispose the soul to aspire to God, as a sense of sickness disposes people to wish for health.

Let us now put these things together; it is certain, that devotion, as a temper of the mind, must have something to produce it, as all other tempers have; that it cannot be taken up at times and occasions, but must arise from the state of the soul, as all other tempers and desires do. It is also equally certain, that humility, self-denial, and a renunciation of the world, are the only foundation of devotion, that it can only proceed from these, as from its proper causes. Here therefore we must fix our rule to take the just measure of ourselves. We must not consider how many books of devotion we have, how often we go to church, how often we have felt a warmth and fervour in our prayers; these are uncertain signs; but we must look to the foundation, and assure ourselves, that our devotion neither is, nor can be greater than our humility, self-denial, and renunciation of the world. For as it must proceed only from these causes, so it can rise no higher than they can carry it, and must be in the same state of strength or weakness that they are. If our humility is false, our self-denial hypocritical and trifling, and our worldly tempers not half mortified, our devotion will be just in the same state of falseness, hypocrisy, and imperfection. The care therefore of our devotion seems wholly to consist in the care of these duties; so far as we proceed in them, so far we advance in devotion. We must alter our lives, in order to alter our hearts; for it is impossible to live one way, and pray another.

This may teach us to account for the several false kinds of devotion which appear in the world; they cannot be otherwise than they are, because they have no bottom to support them. Devotion is like friendship, you hear of it everywhere, but find it nowhere; in like manner, devotion is everywhere to be seen in modes of worship, in forms of speech, in outward adorations, but is in reality scarce to be found. Hence also it is, that you see as much difference in the devotion, as in the faces of Christians; for wanting its true foundation, being like an affected friendship, it has as many shapes as there are tempers of men. Many people are thus far sincere in their devotions, that they would be glad to pray devoutly; they strive to be fervent, but never attain to it, because they never took the only possible way. They never thought of altering their lives, or of living different from the rest of the world; but hope to be devout, merely by reading over books of devotion. Which is as odd a fancy, as if a man should expect to be happy, by reading discourses upon happiness. When these people dare take Christianity as it is offered to them in the Gospel; when they deny themselves, and renounce the world, as our Saviour exhorted his followers, they will then have begun devotion.

Trebonius asks how often he shall pray: he thinks the nicety of the question shows the piety and exactness of his heart; but Trebonius is deceived, for the question proves that he is a stranger to devotion. Trebonius has a friend, he is constantly visiting him, he is never well out of his company; if he is absent, letters are sent at all opportunities. Now what is the reason that he never asks how often he shall visit, how often he shall delight in, how often he shall write to his friend? It is because his friend has his heart, and his heart is his faithful and sufficient instructor. When Trebonius has given his heart to God, when he takes God to be as great a good, as substantial a happiness as his friend, he will have done asking how often he shall pray.

Julius goes to prayers, he confesses himself to be a miserable sinner, he accuses himself to God with all the aggravations that can be, as having no health in him: yet Julius cannot bear to be informed of any imperfection, or suspected to be wanting in any degree of virtue. Now can there be a stronger proof, that Julius is wanting in the sincerity of his devotions? Is not this a plain sign, that his confessions to God are words only of course and humble civility of speech to his Maker, in which his heart has no share?

If a man was to confess that his eyes were bad, his hands weak, his feet feeble, and his body helpless, he would not be angry with those that supposed he was not in perfect strength, or that he might stand in need of some assistance. Yet Julius confesses himself to be in great weakness, corruption, disorder, and infirmity; and yet is angry at any one that does but suppose him defective in any virtue. Is it not the same thing as if he had said, You must not imagine that I am in earnest in my devotions?

It would be endless to produce instances of false devotion; I shall therefore proceed no farther in it, but rather endeavour to explain and illustrate that which is true. Devotion, we see, is an earnest application of the soul to God as its only happiness. This is devotion, considered as a state and temper of the mind. All those texts of Scripture which call us to God, as our true and only good, which exhort us to a fulness of faith, of hope, of joy, and trust in God, are to be considered as so many exhortations to devotion; because devotion is only another name for the exercise of all these virtues. That soul is devoted to God, which constantly rises and tends towards God in habits of love, desire, faith, hope, joy and trust. The end and design of religion, as it proposes to raise men to a life of glory with Christ at the right hand of God, carries a stronger reason for devotion, than any particular exhortation to prayer. Beloved, saith St. John, it doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know, that when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. St. Paul also saith, As we have borne the image of the earthly, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly (1 Cor. xv.).

Now these and such like texts seem to me to carry the most powerful motives, to awaken the soul into a state of devotion. For as the apostle saith, He that hath this hope, purifieth himself even as he is pure; so he that hath this hope of being taken into so glorious an enjoyment of the divine nature, must find his heart raised and enlivened in thinking upon God. For these truths cannot be believed without putting the soul into a state of prayer, adoration, and joy in God. The seeing thus far into heaven, is seeing so many motives to praise and thanksgiving.

It was this view of future glory, that made the apostle break out in this strain of thanksgiving: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath begotten us to a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance undefiled, and that fadeth not away (1 Pet. i. 3.). And would we praise and adore God with such thanksgiving as filled the heart of this apostle, we must raise it from a contemplation of the same truth, that incorruptible inheritance that is prepared for us.

Again; the same apostle saith to the Philippians, our conversation is in heaven; and as the reason and motives to this heavenly conversation, he addeth, Whence we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body. Phil. iii. 20.

So that the most powerful motive to heavenly-mindedness, the plainest reason for our conversation in heaven, is our expectation of Christ's glorious appearance, when he shall come to put an end to the miseries of this life, and clothe us with robes of immortality. These truths much more effectually raise the heart to God, than any particular precepts to prayer; they do not so much exhort, as carry the soul to devotion: he that feels these truths, feels himself devout; they leave a light upon the soul, which will kindle into holy flames of love and delight in God.

The way therefore to live in true devotion, is to live in the contemplation of these truths; we must daily consider the end and hope of our calling, that our minds may be formed and raised to such tempers and desires as are suitable to it, that all little anxieties, worldly passions, and vain desires may be swallowed up in one great desire of future glory. When the heart is in this state, then it is in a state of devotion, tending to God in such a manner as justly suits the nature of our religion: for whither should our hearts tend, but where our treasure is? This devotion to God is signified in Scripture, by living by faith and not by sight, when the invisible things of the other life are the reason, the motive, and the measure of all our desires and tempers. When Christians are thus settled in right judgments of things, and tending towards God in such motions and desires as are suitable to them, then are they devout worshippers of God everywhere; this makes the common actions of their life, acts of religion, and turns every place into a chapel. And it is to this state of devotion that we are all called, not only by particular precepts, but by the whole nature and tenor of our religion.

Now as all states and tempers of the mind must be supported by actions and exercises suitable to them, so devotion, which is an earnest application of the soul to God, as its only happiness, must be supported and kept alive by actions and exercises suitable to it, that is, by hours and forms of prayer both public and private. The devotion of the heart disposes us to observe set times of prayer; and on the other hand, set times of prayer as naturally increase and enliven the devotion of the heart. It is thus in all other cases; habits of the mind dispose us to actions suitable to them, and these actions likewise strengthen and improve the habits from whence they proceed.

It is the habitual taste for music, that carries people to concerts; and again, it is concerts that increase the habitual love of music. So it is the right disposition of the heart towards God, that leads people to outward acts of prayer; and on the other side, it is outward acts of prayer, that preserves and strengthens the right disposition of the heart towards God. As therefore we are to judge of the significancy of our prayers, by looking to the state and temper of our heart, so are we also to judge of the state of our heart, by looking to the frequency, constancy, and importunity of our prayers. For as we are sure, that our prayers are insignificant, unless they proceed from a right heart, so unless our prayers be frequent, constant, and full of importunity, we may be equally sure, that our heart is not right towards God.

Our blessed Saviour had indeed condemned one...sort of long prayer. But when ye pray use not vain repetitions, as the Heathens do; for, Matth. vi. 7, they think they shall be heard for their much speaking. Now it is not length, or a continuance of prayer that is here forbid; but vain repetitions, when instead of praying, the same words are only often repeated. Secondly, the Heathens are not here condemned for being importunate and persevering in their prayers, but for a wrong judgment, a false devotion, in that they thought they were heard, because they spoke much, that is, often repeated the same words. So that all that Christians are here forbid, is only this, they are not to think that the efficacy of prayer consists in vain and long repetitions, but are to apply to God upon a better principle, a more enlightened devotion. Now though this is plainly all that is here condemned, yet some people imagine, that a continuance and importunity of prayer is here reproved; and thence conclude, that shortness is a necessary qualification of prayer.

But how willing must such people be to be deceived, before they can reason in this manner? For the words have plainly no relation to length or shortness of prayer; they no more condemn the one than the other; but speak altogether to another matter. They only condemn an opinion of the Heathens, which supposed that the excellency and power of prayer consisted in a multitude of repetitions. Now to think that a short prayer is better because it is short, is the same error as to hold with the Heathens, that a prayer is more powerful the longer the same words are repeated. It is the same mistake in the nature of devotion.

But supposing the meaning of these words was something obscure (which it is not) yet surely it is plain enough, that our Saviour has expressly taught and recommended a continuance and importunity in prayer. And how perversely do they read the Gospel, who can find his authority against such kind of devotion? For, can he who was so often retiring to deserts, to mountains, to solitary places to pray, who spent whole nights in prayer; can he be supposed to have left a reproof upon such as should follow his example? But besides the authority of his great example, his doctrine is on no point more plain and certain, than where he teaches frequency, continuance, and importunity in prayer.

He spake a parable unto them, to this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint. Saying, There was in a city a judge, which feared not God, nor regarded man. And there was a widow in that city; and she came unto him, saying, Avenge me of mine adversary. And he would not for a while: but afterwards, he said within himself, Though I fear not God, nor regard man, yet because this widow troubleth me, I will avenge her. And shall not God avenge his own elect, which cry day and night unto him? The apostle tells us, that this parable was to teach men to pray always, and not to faint; and it is plain to any one that reads it, that it has no other intent, but to recommend continuance and importunity, as the most prevailing qualifications of prayer. The widow is relieved; not because she asked relief, but because she continued asking it: and God is said to avenge his elect; not because they cry to him now and then, but because they cry day and night. Our blessed Saviour teacheth the same doctrine in another parable, of a person going to his friend to borrow three loaves of him at midnight; where it thus concludes--I say unto you, though he would not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity, he will rise and give him as many as he needeth. Here again the sole scope of this passage is to show the great power and efficacy of continuance and importunity in prayer.

Consider farther in what manner prayer is mentioned in Scripture. St. Paul does not command us to pray, but to pray without ceasing. 1 Thess. v. 17. The same doctrine is thus taught in another place--continue in prayer. Coloss. iv. 2. And again, praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit. Eph. vi. 17. It is said of Anna, that she served God in fasting and prayer night and day. Now who can imagine that shortness is an excellency of prayer?

Clito says he desires no more time for rising, dressing, and saying his prayers, than a quarter of an hour. He tells this to his friends; not to show his want of religion, but that he may be thought to understand devotion. You tell him that our Saviour's parables teach continuance and importunity in prayer; that the apostles exhort to pray without ceasing, to pray always; and that devout persons are recorded in Scripture, as praying night and day. Still Clito is for short prayers. He at last finds a text of Scripture, and appeals to the example of the angels; they only said, Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace, good-will towards men. Clito takes this to be an argument for short prayer; because the angels had done so soon; but Clito must be told, that this is no prayer; it is only a joyful proclamation to men. And surely the manner of angels speaking to men, can be no rule or measure of the devotion of men speaking to God. The angels had no more to tell the world, than this message of joy; but does it therefore follow, that sinners are to be as short in their addresses to God? The Scripture tells us sometimes of voices from heaven; but it would be strange to make the things that were then spoken, the measure of our prayers when we call upon God. If Clito must have an example from heaven, he might have found one much more proper than this, where it is said, that they rest not day and night, saying, Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God Almighty; which was and is, and is to come. Rev. iv. 8.

Our blessed Saviour saith, But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray unto thy Father, amp;c. Matt. vi. 6.

Now here indeed is no mention of the time that prayer is to be continued; but yet this preparation for prayer, of entering into our closet, and shutting the door, seems to teach us that it is a work of some time; that we are not hastily to open our door, but to allow ourselves time to continue and be importunate in our prayers.

How long and how often all people ought to pray, is not to be stated by any one particular measure. But this we may take as a general rule, that relates to all particulars, that every Christian is to pray so often and so long, as to show a perseverance and importunity in prayer; as to show that he prays without ceasing; that he prays always; and that he cries to God night and day; for these are essential qualifications of prayer, and expressly required in Scripture. One would think it impossible for people to be sparing in their devotions, who have read our Saviour's parables, which teach us that the blessings of heaven, the gifts and graces of God's Holy Spirit, are given to such as are importunate in their prayers. I shall now only add a word or two in favour of frequent and continued prayers.

First, frequent and continued prayers are a likely means to beget in us the spirit of prayer. A man that is often in his closet on his knees to God, though he may for some time perform but a lip-labour, will, if he perseveres, find the very labour of his lips altering the temper of his heart; and that he has learned to pray, by praying often.

This we find to be true in all parts of life, that we catch a spirit and temper from such conversation and ways of life as we allow ourselves in. Use is called a second nature, and experience teaches us, that whatever we accustom ourselves to, will by degrees transform our spirit and temper into a likeness to it

Credula was for some time a tender mother, friendly and charitable to her neighbours, and full of good-will towards all people: she is now spiteful, malicious, envious, and delights in nothing but scandal. How came Credula thus changed? Why, she has been for several years spending her time in visiting; she entered into scandal and evil-speaking at first, merely for the sake of talk; she has gone on talking, till she has talked her very heart and spirit into a taste for nothing else: at first she only detracted from her neighbours and friends, because she was visiting; but now she visits for the sake of detraction. Credula is hardened and cruel in evil-speaking, for the same reason that butchers are inhuman and cruel, because she has been so long used to murder the reputation of her neighbours. She has killed all her own family over and over; and if she seeks new acquaintance, it is to get fresh matter for scandal; now all this change in Credula is purely owing to her indulging a talkative temper.

Now every thing that we use ourselves to, enters into our nature in this manner, and becomes a part of us before we are aware. It is common to observe, that some people tell a story so long, till they have forgotten that they invented it. This is not, as is supposed, through a bad memory; but because the things which we make constant and familiar, will, by degrees, steal the approbation of the heart. If therefore we would but be often on our knees, putting up our prayers to God, though, for a while, it was only form and outward compliance, yet our hearts would, by degrees, learn the language of our mouths. The subject of our prayers would become the subject of our hearts; we should pray ourselves into devotion, and it would become a part of us, in the same manner, that all other ways enter into our mature. Our reason and judgment would, at last, consent to our lips, and by saying the same things often, we should come to believe and feel them in a proper manner. For it is a very reasonable thing to judge of the effects of good customs, by what we see to be the effects of bad ones. They therefore, who are hasty in their devotions, and think a little will do, are strangers both to the nature of devotion, and the nature of man; they do not know that they are to learn to pray, and that prayer is to be learned, as they learn all other things, by frequency, constancy, and perseverance.

Secondly; There is another great advantage in frequent and continued prayers.

The cares and pleasures of life, the levity, vanity, and dulness of our minds, make us all, more or less, unfit for our devotions. We enter into our closets thus unprepared for prayer; now if our petitions are very short, we shall end our prayers before our devotion is begun; before we have time to recollect our minds, or turn our hearts to the business we are upon.

Now continuance in prayer is a great relief against these indispositions; not only as it gives the heart leisure to fall from worldly cares and concerns, but as it exercises the mind upon such subjects as are likely to abate its vanity and distraction, and raise it into a state of seriousness and attention. It is the case of all people to find themselves inconstant in their prayers, joining heartily with some petitions, and wandering away from others; it is therefore but common prudence to continue our prayers, that our minds, which will wander from some parts, may have others to join in. If we were masters of our attention, and could be as fervent as we pleased, then indeed fewer words might serve for our devotion; but since our minds are weak, inconstant, and ungovernable, we must endeavour to catch and win them to devotion, by such means as are suited to such a state of weakness, dulness, and inconstancy. He that goes to his closet in a hurry, only to repeat a short form of words, may pray all his life without any devotion: and perhaps he had been a devout man long ago, if it had ever entered into his head, that meditation and continuance in prayer are necessary to excite devotion. If a man was to make it a law to himself to meditate a while before he began his prayers; if he was to force his mind to think what prayer is, what he prays for, and to whom he prays; if he should again make it a rule to stop in some part of his prayers, to ask his heart whether it really prays, or to let his soul rise up in silence unto God; prayers thus performed, thus assisted by meditation and continuance, would, in all likelihood, soon render the mind truly devout. It is not intended by this to impose any particular method upon all people; it is only to show us, that there are certain means of assisting our devotion; some rules, though little in themselves, yet of great use to render our minds attentive and fervent in our applications to God. It is the business therefore of every sincere Christian to be as wise as he can in these arts and methods of self-government. As we ourselves know most of the falseness of our own hearts, of the temper of our minds, and the occasion of our defects; so if we would but be so wise, as to think the amendment of our hearts the best and greatest work that we can do, every one's reason would help him to such useful rules as had a peculiar fitness to his own state. Self-reflection is the shortest and most certain way of becoming truly wise, and truly pious.

There are two seasons of our hearts, which, if we would but reflect upon, we might get much knowledge of ourselves, and learn how to assist our devotion; I mean the time when we are most affected with our devotions; and the time when we are most indisposed to pray. Both these seasons equally serve to instruct us in the knowledge of ourselves, and how to govern the motions of our hearts.

Reflect with yourself how it was with you; what circumstances you was in; what had happened to you; what you had been doing; what thoughts you had in your head at such a time, when you found yourself so affected with your devotions. Now if you find out what state you was then in, when you was disposed to pray so fervently, then you have found out a certain way of raising your devotion at another time. For do but put yourself in the same state, recal the same thoughts, and do as you had then been doing, and you will find the same causes will again produce the same effects, and you will be again in the same temper of devotion. If you was then to put down in writing some short remembrance of the chief things that ever raised your heart to fervency of prayer, so that you might have recourse to a full view of them, as often as your mind wanted such assistance, you would soon find a benefit that would well reward your labour. On the contrary, whenever you have found yourself very much indisposed for prayer, reflect with yourself what state you was then in; what had happened unto you; what thoughts you had in your head; what passions were then awakened; what you had been doing, or were intending to do; for when you have found out the state that you was then in, you have found out the real hinderances of your devotion, and are made certain what things you are to avoid, in order to keep yourself in a temper of devotion.

If you was here again to make short remembrances in writing of the chief things which, at such times, rendered you indisposed for prayer, and oblige yourself frequently to read them, and reflect upon them; you would, by this means, set a mark upon every thing that did you any hurt, and have a constant faithful information of what ways of life you are most to avoid. If, in examining your state, you should find, that sometimes impertinent visits, foolish conversation, or a day idly spent in civil compliances with the humours and pleasures of other people, has rendered your mind dull and indisposed, and less affected with devotion than at other times; then you will have found, that impertinent visits, and ceremonious compliances in spending our time, are not little indifferent things, but are to be numbered among those things which have a great effect upon our minds, and such as are to be daily watched and guarded against by all those who are so wise as to desire to be daily alive unto God in the spirit and temper of devotion.

I pass now to another observation upon the benefit of frequent prayers.

Thirdly; Frequent and continued prayer is the best remedy against the power of sin. I do not mean as it procures the divine grace and assistance; but as it naturally convinces, instructs, and fortifies the mind against all sin. For every endeavour to pray is an endeavour to feel the truth of our prayers; to convince our minds of the reasonableness and fitness of those things that are the subject of our prayers; so that he who prays most, is one that most labours to convince his heart and mind of the guilt, deformity, and misery of sin. Prayer therefore, considered merely as an exercise of the heart upon such subjects, is the most certain way to destroy the power of sin; because so far as we pray, so far we renew our convictions, enlighten our minds, and fortify our hearts by fresh resolutions. We are therefore to consider the necessity and benefit of prayer, not only as it is that which God hears, but also as it is that which, by its natural tendency, alters and corrects our opinions and judgments, and forms our hearts to such ways of thinking as are suitable to the matter of our prayers.

Now this is an unanswerable argument for fre quency and continuance in prayer; since, if prayer at all convinces the mind, frequency and continuance in prayer must be the most certain way to establish the mind in a steady well-grounded state of conviction. They therefore, who are for short prayers, because they suppose that God does not need much entreaty, ought also to show, that the heart of man does not need assistance of much prayer; that it is so regular and uniform in its tendency to God; so full of right judgments and good motions, as not to need that strength, and light, and help, which arises from much praying. For unless this be the state of our hearts, we shall want much prayer to move and awake ourselves, though but little was necessary to excite the goodness of God. If therefore men would consider prayer, not only as it is an invocation of God, but also as it is an exercise of holy thoughts, as it is an endeavour to feel, and be affected with the great truths of religion, they would soon see, that though God is so good as not to need much calling upon; yet that man is so weak as to need much assistance, and to be under a constant necessity of that help, and light, and improvement which arises from praying much.

It is perhaps for this reason, that God promises to give to those who are importunate, and ask without ceasing, to encourage us to practise that exercise, which is the most natural cure of the disorders of our souls. If God does not give to us at our first asking; if he only gives to those who are importunate: it is not because our prayers make any change in God, but because our importunity has made a change in ourselves: it has altered our hearts, and rendered us proper objects of God's gifts and graces. When therefore we would know how much we ought to pray, we must consider how much our hearts want to be altered, and remember that the great work of prayer, is to work upon ourselves; it is not to move and affect God, but it is to move and affect our own hearts, and fill them with such tempers as God delights to reward.

Prayer is never so good a preservation against sin; it never so corrects and amends the heart, as when we extend it to all the particulars of our state, enumerating all our wants, infirmities, and disorders; not because God needs to be informed of them, but because, by this means, we inform ourselves, and make our hearts in the best manner acquainted with our true condition. When our prayers are thus particular, descending to all the circumstances of our condition, they become, by this means, a faithful glass to us, and so often as we pray, so often we see ourselves in a true light.

This is the most likely means to raise in us proper affections, to make us feel the force and truth of such things, as are the subject of our devotions. Do not be content therefore with confessing yourself to be a sinner, or with praying against sin in general, for this will but a little affect your mind, it will only show you to yourself in such a state as all mankind are in; but if you find yourself out, if you confess and lay open the guilt of your own particular sins, if you pray constantly against such particular sins as you find yourself most subject to, the frequent sight of your own sins, and your constant deploring of their guilt, will give your prayers entrance into your heart, and put you upon measures how to amend your life.

If you confess yourself only to be a sinner, you only confess yourself to be a man; but when you describe and confess your own particular guilt, then you find cause for your own particular sorrow, then you give your prayers all the power they can have, to affect and wound your hearts. In like manner, when you pray for God's grace, do not be satisfied with a general petition, but make your prayers suitable to your defects; and continue to ask for such gifts and graces of the Holy Spirit as you find yourself most defective in; for this will not only give life to your petitions, and make your heart go along with them, but will also be the surest means to fit and prepare you for such graces, as you pray for.

Lastly; This particularity in our prayers is the greatest trial of the truth of our hearts.

A man perhaps thinks he prays for humility, because he has the word humility in his prayers. But if he was to branch out humility into all its particular parts, he would perhaps find himself not disposed to pray for them. If he was to represent to himself the several particulars which make a man poor in spirit, he would find his heart not desirous of them. So that the only way to know the truth of our hearts, and whether we really pray for any virtue, is to have all its parts in our prayers, and make our petitions to ask for it in all its instances. If the proud man was to pray daily and frequently for humility in all its kinds, and to beg of God to remove him from all occasions of such pride, as is common to his particular state, and to disappoint him in all his attempts that were contrary to humility; he would find, that such prayers would either conquer his pride, or his pride would put an end to his prayers. For it would be impossible to live long in any instances of pride, if his daily and frequent prayers were petitions against those particular instances. Now every one may make his private devotions thus useful to him, if he has but piety enough to intend it. For every one may know his own state if he will; we indeed commonly say, that people are blind to themselves, and know the least of their true state. We pass this judgment upon people, because we see them pretending to so many virtues which do not belong to them, and declaiming against vices to which they are the most subject. Therefore we say, that men do not know themselves; but this is false reasoning.

We see people often pretending to be rich; now this is not because they do not know their state, but because they would not have you to know it, and they presume, if possible, to impose upon you. Now the case is just the same in all other pretences. The false, the proud, the worldly man, that pretends to fidelity, humility, and heavenly affection, knows that he is neither faithful, nor humble, nor heavenly-minded; he no more thinks he has these virtues than a man thinks he has a great estate, when he endeavours to be thought rich; he knows that he only affects the reputation of these virtues, and is only blind in this, that he imagines he imposes upon you, and passes for the man he is not.

Every man therefore has knowledge enough himself to know how to make his prayers particularly fitted to the corruption and disorders of his heart, and when he is so desirous of salvation, as to enter into such a method of prayer, he will find that he has taken the best means to make his prayers effectual remedies against all his sins. Let me now only add this one word more, that he who has learned to pray, has learned the greatest secret of a holy and happy life. Which way soever else we let loose our hearts they will return unto us again empty and weary. Time will convince the vainest and blindest minds, that happiness is no more to be found in the things of this world, than it is to be dug out of the earth. But when the motions of our hearts are motions of piety, tending to God in constant acts of devotion, love, and desire, then we have found rest unto our souls; then is it that we have conquered the misery of our nature, and neither love nor desire in vain; then is it that we have found out a good suited to our natures, that is equal to all our wants, that is a constant source of comfort and refreshment, that will fill us with peace and joyful expectation here, and eternal happiness hereafter. For he that lives in the spirit and ten- per of devotion, whose heart is always full of God, lives at the top of human happiness, and is the farthest removed from all the vanities and vexations which disturb and weary the minds of men that are devoted to the world. __________________________________________________________________