GEORGE MACDONALD describes in one of his books a prayer-meeting or week-day service in a Kentish Town chapel. The preacher was a stickit minister from Scotland. Few people even in the North are now aware of the tragedy that accompanied pulpit failure. In these days of diminished sensitiveness and increased fluency the agony seems inconceivable ; but to this stickit minister the hour of anguish, though it had gone past some thirty years, was still vivid. It overshadowed his spirit. He called back the place and the day — a Scotch village, his own village, a golden wind blowing on a wavy harvest morning, little clouds floating in the sunny blue, the church filled with wellknown faces upturned and critical. Then came swiftly the moment of collapse when he failed utterly, pitifully, while his mother wept low, and his father clutched hands of despair behind the



tails of his Sunday coat. The three went home together in speechless sorrow and despair, and the hour vanished in a slow mist of abject misery and shame. It was only very long after, when he was growing old, that he again opened his mouth to preach Christ, and then it was in circumstances the dreariness of which depressed him. That huge slug the Coiiiiiionp/acc, the wearifullest dragon to fight in the whole creation, the monster whom you may wound but cannot kill, holds great sway in the north-west of London and was then specially powerful in dissenting chapels. Never more so in his beautyblasting, depressing power than on the night of the weekly prayer-meeting, and that night a drizzling one. The steaming glare of the yellow lights that filled the lower part of the chapel, the ugly twilight that possessed the yawning galleries, seemed to illuminate the monster whose faintly gelatinous bulk filled the whole place. There were but nine hearers, and at first it seemed as if

their faces were but ganglions of the beast. None of them was fit to deal him one of those blows which he suffers from every sunrise, every repentance, every childbirth, and every true love. Stay ! there was one, a brooding, careworn


countenance of a woman who had a Hfe of labour and vanished children lying behind her. She was racked with the enigma of how to pay her rent, consumed with pitiful worries, and her look gave the preacher strength to tell the story of sun and breeze, of resurrection and uplifting, of organ blasts and exultation which has been written for every spirit which Satan hath bound. At that time there was little suspicion of neology. The monster was growling in German jungles, but could not cross the sea. The preaching gave the poor widow " strength in my heart to bear up, and that is better than money." She was not one to take the kingdom of heaven

by force, but one to creep quietly into it if a gentle hand took hers.

From the same region of London, a region, which has had a strange fascination for our dissenting writers — for is it not there that Mark Rutherford fixes the story of ** The Modern Martyr " who resisted the will to die and went on quietly in spite of the evolutionist correcting exercises in Euclid ? — comes another and much more cordial testimony to the helpfulness of the week-night service. Thomas Lynch, whose indomitable spirit never yielded to the misery


of his surroundings, his scanty audiences, and his dreary chapels, left behind him a paper on the subject. He urged that men often die of the businesses by which they strive to live. Anxiety dulls, frets, and then kills them. But if a man can walk and talk with his God in the cool of a

hot day, the morrow's burden will be less heavy ; or if he has a childlike gladness in seeing the evening lamp lighted in the holy place, and in both seeing and smelling the evening incense as it curls heavenward, the air of next morning will be sweeter to him, and its light will awaken him to hope. If in winter time he will sit by the fireside of the church in brotherly love to all saints, he will be less likely to drowse and sigh by his own. And if in summer time he will walk with companions in the garden of the Lord as heaven and earth are communing sweetly and sacredly together in the twilight, he will not walk moodily about his own garden complaining that after all its chief productions are the worm and the caterpillar. This is a good word, and we have no doubt as to the blessing ministered to many souls by quiet little week-evening meetings. We are thinking, however, of services where the main business is not preaching, but prayer. Is it


possible that the work of any cliurch can be satisfactorily carried on where prayer is not deliberately organised and practised ? Prayermeetings in the true sense are not week-evening services, in that preaching, save as it helps petitions, is of no account. For a week-evening service it is natural that a minister should seek a large audience. He is to be excused if he presses the duty of attendance upon his people. Where many come there is indubitable proof that his words are prized. Week- evening services, we suppose, cannot be kept up with spirit unless a certain number are present, and we believe that in many places they are abandoned for a large part of the year, and in some given over altogether. This does not apply to the ideal prayermeeting. It is constituted under the charter of Christ. "If two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven." Two, therefore, form a sufficient and a prevailing meeting for prayer. Neither of them needs to be eloquent, but both must be very much in earnest.

To urge people to come to a prayer-meeting seems incongruous. They should be urged to pray, and they should be taught that prayer in



the highest sense cannot be single. Then they must be left. If sympathetic souls find their way to the gathering, and are able to enter with fulness of heart into the supplication, great spiritual issues will be decided. On the other hand, to have a number of hearers none of them fully imbued with the spirit and faith of prayer, is an unmitigated calamity. It may be said with confidence that a large prayermeeting is very often no prayer-meeting.

But surely from every church, even the humblest and poorest, two might be found to make a prayer-meeting. What is the power of two as contrasted with the power of one ?

In the first place, when two agree as touching what they shall ask, there is reason to hope that a corrective element will be applied to the petitions. Isolated, we grow selfish ; the burden of our own sad need presses upon us too heavily, the lower forms of desire and passion assert their sway. There are, it has been said, three forms of prayer — the evil, the non-moral, and the spiritual. That there are evil prayers — sordid, selfish and base — we know. We doubt whether there are non-moral prayers. For as we are always drawn out in tenderness for any one who we see is looking to us in great expecta-


tion and tenderly confiding in us, this must also be true of God. He will grieve a little because we so persistently ask Him for the lower, because wc think so much more of meat and drink and clothes for the body than of God and love and

truth for the soul. He longs that only we would put things in the right order, and seek the best first ; but He knows that we must be guided gently, and so in the New Testament no stern distinction is drawn between temporal and spiritual blessings, and the largest possible encouragement is given to all souls to pray. So much is the encouragement that perhaps nine-tenths of the sermons on prayer consist of warnings not to expect too much. God knows that if we once come close to Him, if our hearts touch His, we shall grow in grace and wisdom, and find that even in the promise the half was not told us. We learn from this contact that prayer prevails not merely in that it subsides into God's will and takes the fact as decided in our faith, but that it brings a reason for God's hearing us and giving the thing requested, as otherwise He would not have a call to do. Besides, what strength and depth of Christian communion there is between two souls that have entered into a true league of



prayer, when each is not afraid to unbare to the other his whole heart, and when everything that is merely selfish fades away and is ashamed in the light of the divine love !

Not only is it well that two should agree in prayer because in this way the lower elements of petitions subside, but in ways we cannot fully understand the addition of will to will increases the force of prayer. On this subject Bushnell has some wise remarks. He is commenting on the palmary promises given by Our Lord to importunity. He protests against the exaggeration which demands that we are to renounce all will to begin with, as if the will were part of our human nature which God does not care to see, makes no account of, and will not cherish. True, the will must not push itself on God's will when God's will is known, but we often do not know, and we must hold on with inflexible tenacity until we do. Many of our prayers have no will ; they are dawdling, feeble and futile. But Christ

commends with especial heartiness the prayer that will take no denial, that does not faint, and that succeeds by importunity. This tenacity is will, and God looks oii our will as a central part of our personality. He means to ennoble it, and


not to crush it. There are many prayers that can only be answered by the action of a great will force in man. How, for instance, is one to recover health when he discourages soul and body in consenting to have no will "bout the matter save in prayer ? Then it has to be remembered that God is always answering prayer on the ground of the largest reasons. All God's purposes are set by God's reason, even as clocks are by the sun, though the purposes may be as in everlasting counsel before the prayers are made. And so it is not too much to say that God is always considering as to what the most and weightiest things and people agree — where an}'

prayer for health makes as strong a suit as the sensuality and pride petitioning for disease, where so many Christian people praying for the times can pray down what the times themselves invoke. The only true, earnest way of praying is to get as many things to pray with you as possible, and as few to pray against. We may have little power, but surely each of us may find one soul, and when two agree in pra3'er there is an illimitable promise. We shall try to consider what modificntion the frank adoption of this great principle would make on the life of our churches.




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