prayer. What the Lord may please to do in his sovereignty, over and above what he has promised, is one thing; and what his word warrants us to expect, is another and very different thing. God will never be worse than his word; but he may do more than he has promised. The prayer of faith supposes that the person praying is a believer, that he believes that God is, and is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him. That he is united to Christ, and abides in fellowship with Christ, as it is written, "If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you" (John xv. 7). Also, that his heart is set against all sin; for if one sin is indulged, if one idol is spared, God is dishonoured and provoked to jealousy; and it is not to be expected that he will indulge those who violate his commands and encourage his foes. Hence the Psalmist, in so many words, says, "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me" (Psalın lxvi. 18). But if we believe in God as revealed in Jesus,-if we are united to Christ and abide in communion with him,-if our hearts are weaned from, and set against all sin, we are prepared to pray in faith. In order to exercise faith in prayer, we must only pray for what we really want. God has promised to supply our necessities, but not to gratify our fancies. If we want what we ask of God, we shall not talk before him, or offer compliments to him, but we shall heartily plead with him. Or we must heartily desire the blessings which we seek, for desire is the soul of prayer, and to the desire the promise is made, as you read, (Ps. cxlv. 19), "He will fulfil the desire of them that fear him; he also will hear their cry, and will save them." Much is said in prayer to God, which is anything but pleading with God, or the utterance of heartfelt desire to God. 66 "But the desire of the righteous shall be granted." We must only pray for what God has promised. I cannot consistently believe that God will give me anything, except he has promised in his word to do so. If, therefore, I desire anything for myself, my family, the church, my country, or the world, I must first ask, Is there any particular promise in which God has said that he will give it? If there is not, then, Is the blessing I desire included in any of the more general promises ? Again, Does the promise refer to any particular circumstance? If so, are the circumstances present? Or is it made to the exercise of any párticular grace, or peculiar state of mind? If so, have I that grace in exercise, or is my mind in the state required? Attention to these particulars will prevent many mistakes, and painful disappointments. For instance, I pray for some blessing, but I have enmity in my heart against some one; or there is a disagreement between me and a fellow-christian, and I refuse to go and seek to be reconciled to my brother; now God will not hear me; I thought if I prayed loud and long he would; he does not; I am grieved, irritated, and disappointed. But I ought not to be, for God has said, "First be reconciled to thy brother, and then come" (Matt. V. 24); this I have neglected; in so doing, I have regarded "iniquity in my heart," and under such circumstances God could not hear my prayer. If we would have faith in prayer, we must, when praying, realize God as present with us, and listening to us. It is often the case that we seem to be praying in an empty room, or to a being at a great distance from us. This is wrong. We address a present God. One who stands before us in all his glorious perfections, and who is waiting to receive our petitions, and bless our souls. The heart is never right in prayer, except we realize that we are alone with God, or that God is attending to us as if he had nothing else to attend to. We must solemnly prostrate ourselves before God, not so much the body as the soul. Thus did Abraham, though he was emphatically God's friend,-though God stood before him in a human Wiv disedT form, yet he prostrated all his powers before God, and was filled with solemn awe; hence he says, "Oh, let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak." "Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord, which am but dust and ashes," &c. (Gen. xviii. 27.) When faith is strongest, our solemnity before God will be deepest; and when indulged most, we shall lie lowest. We must also steadily rely, for the acceptance of our persons and prayers, on the sacrifice of Christ. There is no coming before God acceptably but in the name of Jesus; nor will true faith ever venture into God's presence but with the blood of atonement in its hand. If we realize God's presence, prostrate our souls before God's throne, and rest heartily on Christ's finished work, we may pray in faith. The believing intended by our Lord, is confidence in God. We go to him confident that he is "good, ready to forgive, and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon him" (Ps. lxxxvi. 5). We feel certain that his word is true, that he means what he has said in his promises, that he is in the same mind now as he was when he made them. That having promised to give good things to them that ask him out of pure love, to glorify his own rich grace, and to bring honour to his own name and character, he will not now forfeit his word, or refuse our petitions. We are, therefore, inwardly and powerfully persuaded that he will give us what we ask, because he is so good, and has promised to do so in his word. Thus we give credit to his word, rely on his veracity, and place confidence in his faithfulness. We ask in faith. We believe God will give. We have the witness in ourselves, that God will hear and answer us: for our "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen;" or "the confident expectation of things hoped for, the perfect persuasion of things not seen.' This faith always keeps God's glory in view, attending to the apostolic admonition, "Whether, therefore, ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." The first enquiry, therefore, of a person under the influence of this principle is, when prompted to ask anything in prayer, "Will this honour God? Will it bring glory to his holy name? Will it further his blessed cause? Will it deepen my sanctification ?" And if it is clearly seen that it will do so, then the man goes and confidently asks for it. True faith always consents that the flesh should be mortified. It will not spare the old man, but will put him off with his deeds. It will have the flesh dragged to the cross, to which it nailed the Saviour, and have it put to shame and pain. It will bring down our pride, self-importance, worldliness, and love of ease; thus purifying the heart, and making us vessels "of honour, sanctified, and meet for the Master's use." It breathes universal benevolence. It harbours no unkind thoughts. It indulges no proud spirit. It feeds no bitter temper. But it loves tenderly and heartily all who love the Saviour; and pities, prays for, and strives to benefit all who are yet in their sins. This faith will produce earnestness. We shall ask as if we really desired to possess. We shall plead for the blessing as if we could not do without it. The desire springing from the depths of the soul, will ascend and enter into the heart of God. It will make us importunate. We shall not only ask, but seek; not only seek, but knock; not only knock, but continue knocking until mercy's door is thrown wide open. Like the woman of Canaan, we shall pray, plead, and persevere, until our Lord says, "Be it unto thee even as thou wilt." Like the man that went to his friend at midnight, who would take nothing for an answer but the loaves for which he went, we shall agonize until we prevail. Like the widow who went to seek relief from the unjust judge, we shall go, and go, and go, until we obtain what we seek. God's elect cry day and night unto him, until he arise and have mercy upon them. This faith_will awaken expectation. We shall wait, watch, and expect that the Lord will do as he has said, give as he has promised, and answer prayer according to his word. Earnest, importunate pleaders with God, always expect to be answered, and they are never disappointed. Faith honours God, for it commits the soul to him, and seeks every blessing from him. It leaves the time when, the place where, and the means by which, the answer shall be given to the Lord. It never dictates to infinite wisdom, complains of infinite love, or doubts the faithfulness of the Most High. It leaves everything for him, or holds everything loosely, ready to surrender it at his command: and when all is gone for Christ and his cause, it rises like the lark from its torn nest and sings, "Doubtless I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him" (Phil. iii. 8, 9). God honours faith, by conferring much upon it. Indeed he never says it nay. The Saviour has put a blank into the hand of faith signed with his own name; he says, "Fill it up, ask for what you please, and go to my Father for it, and I give you my word that he will bestow it." "Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you" (John xvi. 23). Yea, he engages to give it himself, that his father may be honoured by his so doing; hence we read, "I go unto my Father, and whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son" (John xiv. 12, 13). God ascribes much to faith. Yea, he ascribes more to faith, than to any exercise of the human mind, any work wrought by any of his creatures, or any other grace of his Holy Spirit. It is faith that has power with God and prevails. Faith opens heaven, unlocks God's treasury, presents God's promises for payment, and brings numerous, invaluable, and everlasting blessings into our possession. Lord, increase our faith! Holy Spirit, help us to pray in faith and may it be said of us, as it was of Abraham, "He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God; being fully persuaded that, what he had promised, he was able also to perform" (Rom. iv. 20, 21). Claremont-Street, Shrewsbury. THE DYING CHRISTIAN. Altered from the French of M. de Lamartine. I hear a voice of solemn sound, Oh, precious spark of a fire divine Fear not! Death brings thee liberty; Fly hence, my soul! Unloose thy chains, Is it thus that they die ? But ah! and alas! As my soul flies home, Comrades of exile! Why weep o'er my fate? A lethe of woe as this soul of mine Marie J. E. Tales and Sketches. PAY YOUR MINISTER. BY MRS. H. C. KNIGHT. "Has Mr. Scott's bill been sent over lately?" asked a grocer, gruffly. "Yes, Sir; I take it every time I go a dunning," answered the boy. "Well, what does he say יים "He hasn't got the money; that's what he always says." "Well, go again; these ministers are salaried men, and they ought to pay. Wonder what they do with their money. Practice before precept, I say. I want no better religion than to pay my debts,"—a smirk of satisfaction played over his hard features. "Here, take this bill; I'll drive him till I get it,-give him a touch of the law,- yes, -no,-go, Bill." "He won't pay, I know," muttered Bill, walking off. A knock at Mr. Scott's door; Mary answered the summons. "I want to see Mr. Scott," demanded the boy. Up flew Mary to the study door; gently opening it, and on tip-toe peeping in-"Papa, please come down, a boy wants you;" and as he put aside his pen and slowly arose, Mary jumped in and nestled her little hand lovingly in his. "I'll lead you, father, it's that Mr. Cook's boy." Ah! Mary little dreamed how drearily the information fell upon her father's ear. "Is it?"-he stops-"perhaps, then, you had better go down and ask him to send up his message, for I am busy,"-he hesitates, -"no, Mary, stop, I will go myself. These are exigencies I must meet," he added to himself, pressing his lips firmly together, lest an impatient or repining thought might seek an utterance. "Here's Mr. Cook's bill, and he says he wants the pay now," was the familiar greeting that Mr. Scott met at the door,-altogether too familiar had the poor man become with messages of a similar character. "Yes, yes, Mr. Cook's bill,"-taking the bill in one hand, and thrusting the other into his pocket, more from habit than expectation that it would come in contact with anything else than the two keys which he sometimes jingled together, in the pleasing illusion that they sounded like change. I believe I am quite out of money now; but tell Mr. Cook I will try and send it over soon." "How soon?" asked the boy, impatiently; "that's what you said before." A deep flush passed over the minister's face as he mildly answered, "Just as soon as I can ;" and experience told him but too painfully that his "soon" had no very definite boundaries. The boy departed. "Come, my little girl, I want you to go on an errand; ask your mother to put on your things," said Mr. Scott, trying to be cheerful. "Mother has laid down for a little while; I can dress myself," and away she skipped. Mr. Scott returned to his study, and wrote an urgent request to the Treasurer of his Society, soliciting some payment of the long and unpaid arrears of his last year's salary. "I'm ready, father," said Mary, at his elbow, just as he had finished. "My dear, you will be cold; have you nothing to wear on your neck but this?" said the father, taking a corner of a thin 'kerchief in his hand; " why, it's November, and it is very cold out!" "Mother's got the shawl; I've been down in the kitchen, and am warm. It is very cold up here, father; why don't you have a fire in your study, where you sit and study so much? Don't your fingers freeze, father?" "I should be very glad to have one," said the minister in a slight desponding tone; "but we cannot have everything we want in this world, Mary." "We shan't want fires in heaven, shall we, father?" "Thank God, no, Mary," and he hastily brushed away the starting tear. "Carry this note over to Mr. Goodwin, and wait for an answer. Run, and then you will be warm." Away the child sped. The minister took a few turns in the narrow precincts of his study, rubbed his hands, buttoned up his threadbare coat, and then resumed his chair and pen. Half an hour, and back came the little messenger. At the patting of her little feet on the stairs, hope and fear, and fear and hope, rose and fell in his bosom, and as he turned round and beheld her happy, rosy face, a bright vision of bank bills flitted before him. "So you have got it," he said, cheerily and thankfully. "No, father; he says he is very sorry, but he has not got a dollar for you yet; he says he hopes he shall soon; he is very sorry." Who that has not been similarly situated can describe the heart-sickening which followed such an announcement? "He says he is very sorry," added Mary again, as if fearing her father needed consolation. "Oh, very well, thank you, my dear; now run down and help mother." *I'm going to get dinner if mother is not able to get up; she will let me." "See what a fine dinner you can get;" and the minister could not have restrained a sigh had he suffered himself to count the probabilities of future dinners; but then he remembered the lilies of the field and the fowls of the air, and a trusting love stole over his bosom, and he felt he was in a Father's house, and under a Father's care. In due time came the dinner hour. "Mother does not feel well enough to get up, but she wants you to sit down with us children," said Mary, again presenting herself at the study door. Mr. Scott proceeded to the bedroom. "Are you no better, Sarah ?" he asked, tenderly taking the thin hand of his wife, upon whose arm lay a sickly, purple infant of five weeks. "You ought not so soon to have tried to do the work; the weather is cold, and you have exposed yourself too much, I fear." "Ought not, are hard words," answered the wife, faintly smiling. "I hope I shall be better soon, for we cannot afford to hire. If we only had the flannel, dear, I could be sitting up making that, while I am too feeble to do much about the house. I am afraid you suffer for your waistcoats. I think flannel would strengthen me. If you could let me have a little money, I don't know but Mary could get it; she went with me to look at it." "Mother, Polly Mardon 's at the door," said Mary; "she says she wants to speak to you a minute; can she, Mother?" "I suppose she wants the money for your pantaloons, dear," said the wife, addressing the husband; "can you let me have it? Ask her into the kitchen, Mary." "Sarah, I have not a cent in the world, and I have not had one these five weeks; my salary is not paid, and now winter is coming with cold and debts, and perhaps hunger staring us in the face," and the poor minister, quite overcome by the accumulation of debts and necessities, felt unnerved in spite of himself. Fearing to distress his wife, he hastily arose and retired to his cold and comfortless study, there to betake himself to the Lord, and cast all the burdens of his cares upon Him who careth for him. Through many a season of hardship and sore distress had his strength been renewed and his heart encouraged at the throne of mercy. Consecrated to God in infancy by pious parents, he early became the subject of renewing grace, and resolved to devote himself to the ministry. To reach this, for ten long years he had struggled through amazing difficulties. His collegiate and theological course could have borne witness to watchings and self-denials, which nothing could have sustained but intense love for the work. Thoroughly trained for his high and responsible calling, he entered upon his duties with a heart filled with his Master's love for the souls of his fellow-men. He became settled in the ministry, expecting at least to receive a sufficient return for his labours of love. Like his, the lives of many devoted ministers are clouded by anxiety about the maintenance of their families. They labour hard, and preach, and study, and watch, and pray; they sacrifice health, bodily ease, and personal comfort, for the good of souls under their charge; and what poor returns do they often receive; how wretchedly and reluctantly paid for their blessed ministrations ! Shall not such a labourer be suitably rewarded? Shall he not be kept above a painful sense of want? Shall his mind be turned from his great and solemn duties by the fearful forebodings, "How will the two ends of the year meet?" Oh, shame on the christian church and christian communities that this should ever be the fact! Let every individual who enjoys the exalted privileges of an intelligent christian ministry, look to it that he is not amiss about granting it an adequate support. Let every individual behold the distinguished blessings, temporal, intellectual, and spiritual, of an intelligent gospel ministry, and be in season to " pay his minister." THE SABBATH SCHOOL TEACHER'S PRAYER. Nineteen years ago, in one of the principal streets of lower New York, where at present scarce anything else is heard but the din and |