How to Pray as we Ought

In like manner the Spirit also helpeth our infirmity: for we know not how to pray as we ought; but the Spirit Himself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.—Romans 8:26.

The subject contains two parts—our own prayer, and the work of the Holy Spirit in us. St. Paul speaks of two ways in which the Holy Spirit works in us—by helping our infirmity, and by making intercession for us. Obviously the work of the Holy Spirit comes first; we cannot even begin to pray without His Divine inspiration. St. Paul starts from this point—“The Spirit helpeth our infirmity.”

We shall, therefore, take two main divisions—

I.  The Intercession of the Spirit.

  II.  Our Prayer.

I

The Intercession of the Spirit

1. Let us consider first of all what is the practical value to us of faith in the Holy Ghost. “The Spirit,” says the Apostle, “helpeth our infirmity.” It is when we faint before the mystery and the terror of the universal life, and of human life, that we grow most profoundly conscious of this “infirmity,” and feel most keenly that we are not wise enough, or strong enough, for the task imposed upon us by our own conscience and by the law of God; that in and of ourselves we cannot cease to do evil and learn to do well; that we cannot rise from imperfection to perfection. And it is just then, says St. Paul, just when we most need help and feel our need of it, that the Spirit of God “helpeth our infirmity,” that His wisdom is made perfect in our folly, His strength in our weakness.

The Spirit “makes intercession,” literally goes out to meet the helpless creature for the purposes of intercourse and consultation, then intervenes by taking up his cause and pleading on his behalf—it is the work of a true Paraclete. The Son of God is such an Advocate on high. We can hear Him pray for both inner and outer circles of His disciples in John 17, and now that He has entered upon the glory which He had with the Father before the world was, we can imagine, and trust to, His yet more efficacious High-priestly work on our behalf yonder. But He is far away, and the wings of faith and imagination are weak and often fail us. What is needed is a Helper within, one who not so much prays for us, as prays in us. If men had invented such a phrase for themselves it would have been laughed at as an impossibility, or rejected as blasphemy; surely a man must do his own praying to the God who is over him. But a characteristic feature of Christianity is the oneness of the God over us with the God in us, and the Spirit Himself undertakes our cause with yearnings that can find no words.1 [Note: W. T. Davison.]

If “the Spirit helpeth our infirmity,” we have no excuse for those infirmities for which we so readily apologize as being natural to man. They may be so, they may be part of our own fallen and evil nature, but it is the special work of the Spirit to deliver us from them, and to make us strong just where we were weak. A Christian who bears on him some chronic infirmity, whether of temper or of appetite, or of will, just as some men bear on their bodies marks of chronic ill-health, is one who has never realized what the Spirit of God might have done for him, and would have done, had he not hindered Him by his unbelief.2 [Note: G. S. Barrett.]

(1) He who is able to make the confession “I believe in the Holy Ghost” has found a Divine Friend. For him the Spirit is not an influence, an energy, of One far off, but a present Comforter whom Christ has sent to fulfil His work, a present Guide ready to lead him into all the truth, a present Advocate waiting to gain acceptance for the deep sighings of the heart before the throne of God. So it is that Scripture speaks of His relation to us: so it is that we can understand how His Presence among men is dependent on the exaltation of Christ in His human nature to the right hand of the Father.

The subject on which my mind has been dwelling of late is God’s sympathy with man in his weakness and sin. I preached the other Sunday on the text, “The Spirit also helpeth our infirmity,” and the subject has been on my mind ever since. The idea of the Great Spirit being always and everywhere present as the sympathizing friend and helper of man has laid hold of my mind with new power. I used to think of the missionary going, and taking the Spirit with him where he went. Now I think of the Spirit as being already there, and inviting the missionary to come and join Him in the work. The Spirit was in China before I was born, and He brought me in to be a co-worker with Himself. And so everywhere and always. What would have become of the world but for the presence of the Divine Spirit in it? People seem to think that the heathen world has been without God all these centuries. The heathen, it is true, have not known God, but God has known them all the time. The measure of men’s knowledge of God is not the measure of what God is to men. If God had not been in China, China would have been a hell. “What keeps a man from becoming a demon? Is it not the presence of the Spirit in his soul? I have had more tenderness of soul in dealing with men ever since this truth has been brought home to me by God’s Spirit. How thankful ought we to be that hard theological views and dogmas are giving way, and that the Spirit of Christ is coming in and quietly taking their place.1 [Note: Griffith John, Life, 457.]

(2) Again, he who is able to make this confession recognizes the action of One who is moulding his single life. Each believer is himself a temple to be prepared for the Master’s dwelling. The same Spirit who shapes the course of the whole world hallows the soul which is offered to Him for a Divine use. The Christian believer is in one sense alone with God, and God alone with him. He has a work to do, definite, individual, eternal, through the ordinary duties and occupations and trials of common business; and this the Spirit sent in Christ’s name, bringing to him the virtue of Christ’s humanity, will help him to perfect.

The Holy Spirit is the immediate source of all holiness. The missionary must, above all things, be a holy man. The ideal teacher of the Chinese is a holy man. “He is entirely sincere, and perfect in love. He is magnanimous, generous, benign, and full of forbearance. He is pure in heart, free from selfishness, and never swerves from the path of duty in his conduct. He is deep and active like a fountain, sending forth his virtues in due season. He is seen, and men revere him; he speaks, and men believe him; he acts, and men are gladdened by him. He possesses all heavenly virtues. He is one with Heaven.” This is a lofty ideal; but the Chinese do not look upon it as existing in fancy or imagination only. They believe that it has been realized in some instances at least; and I am convinced that no Christian teacher can be a great spiritual power in China in whom this ideal is not embodied and manifested in an eminent degree.1 [Note: Griffith John, Life, 324.]

(3) Life is indeed full of mysteries of which we can give no interpretation, of griefs for which we can gain no present remedy. Nay, rather, we must feel them deeply if we are to know God; and then the faith in the personal help of the Holy Spirit—the complement of the Incarnation—is sufficient for our needs. The prayer of the warrior of old time bewildered by the darkness was: “Give light and let me die.” We can say: “Help us to live and the light will come,” come through life itself.

The Holy Spirit is the source of all spiritual illumination. Knowledge, even religious knowledge, without spiritual illumination is of the letter, and its possession brings no spiritual power. The things of God as facts and doctrines are fully revealed in this blessed Book. Still the Bible is not enough for us. The vital question is, how are we to know “the things that are freely given us of God”? How are we to reach the sunlit summits of full assurance about them?2 [Note: Ibid. 323.]

2. But now, more particularly, let us see what the intercession of the Spirit does for us. “The Spirit himself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.” We should observe three ways in which the Holy Spirit intercedes for us.

(1) The Holy Spirit intercedes for us in union with our own spirit.—The verb translated “maketh intercession” is one of those beautiful words, or compounds, in which the Greek language is so rich. Literally, it means “to meet with some one in a place agreed upon” who is “for” us, i.e. who is on our side, in whose grace and favour we stand. The words have sometimes been explained as if Paul meant to say that the Holy Spirit is literally praying in heaven for men, and hence the idea has arisen that the Eternal Father waits the personal intercession of the Spirit before His gifts are given. That idea is opposed to the very words of the Apostle, for he has spoken of the men in whom are the first-fruits of the Spirit as “groaning within themselves,” as waiting in hope for the redemption of the body; and this groaning within ourselves corresponds to the “groanings which cannot be uttered.” He then passes on to say, “He that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit,” and all this points to the interpretation that the Holy Spirit, in the soul, pleads as the author of prayer. His idea seems, therefore, to be this—There is a spirit within you, possessing you, which gives rise to longings earnest and unutterable—that is the Holy Ghost within, interceding with God. The whole passage in which the text is found illustrates in even a startling manner the truth and reality of the “coming” of the Holy Ghost, the extent to which He has separated Himself—as Christ did at His Incarnation—from His eternal glory and blessedness, and entered into the life of man.

Have we understood that in the Holy Trinity all the Three Persons have a distinct place in prayer, and that the faith in the Holy Spirit of intercession as praying in us is as indispensable as the faith in the Father and the Son? How clearly we have this in the words, “Through Him (Christ) we have access by one Spirit unto the Father.” Just as prayer must be to the Father, and through the Son, it must be by the Spirit. And the Spirit can pray in no other way in us than as He lives in us. It is only as we give ourselves to the Spirit living and praying in us, that the glory of the prayer-hearing Father, and the ever-blessed and most effectual mediation of the Son, can be known by us in their power.1 [Note: Andrew Murray.]

(2) The Holy Spirit intercedes for us in union with Christ’s intercession.—The “intercession of the Spirit” on our behalf (carried on, it is implied, “in the hearts” of the saints, which only God searches) is mentioned nowhere in the New Testament but here. But it is not to be separated from the intercession of Christ which is mentioned just below. Christ’s intercession is “at the right hand of God,” but also He has by the Spirit taken us up into His own life. He dwells in us by His Spirit. By His Spirit we are knit into one and made His body. Doubtless, then, dwelling thus by the Spirit in the body, Christ intercedes for us. This is the intercession of the Spirit, which is also the intercession of Christ—an intercession gathering up into one, and sustaining and connecting and perfecting, all the imperfect prayers of all the saints.

Kuyper distinguishes between the intercession of the Holy Spirit and the intercession of Christ in this way:—

(a) Christ intercedes for us in heaven, and the Holy Spirit on earth. Christ, our Holy Head, being absent from us, intercedes outside of us; the Holy Spirit, our Comforter, intercedes in our own heart, which He has chosen as His temple.

(b) There is a difference, not only of place, but also in the nature of this twofold intercession. The glorified Christ intercedes in heaven for His elect and redeemed, to obtain for them the fruit of His sacrifice: “If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous” (1 John 2:1). But the object of the Holy Spirit’s petitions is the laying bare of all the deep and hidden needs of the saints before the eye of the Triune God.

(c) In Christ there is a union of God and man, since, being in the form of God, He took upon Himself the human nature. Hence His prayer is that of the Son of God, but in union with the nature of man. He prays as the Head of the new race, as King of His people, as the one that seals the covenant of the New Testament in His blood. In like manner, there is to some extent a union between God and man, when the Holy Spirit prays for the saints. For, by His indwelling in the hearts of the saints, He has established a lasting and most intimate union, and, by virtue of that union, putting Himself in their place, He prays for them and in their stead.1 [Note: A. Kuyper, The Work of the Holy Spirit, 637.]

(3) The Holy Spirit intercedes for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.—The “groaning” of believers find expression, adequate or inadequate, in their prayers, and in such utterances as this very passage of Romans; but there is a testimony to the glory awaiting them more profound and passionate than even this. It is the intercession of the Spirit with “groanings” (or sighs) that baffle words. St. Paul has represented the “whole creation” as sending up to God a cry of weariness and suffering and hope; the heavens and the earth and all living things were created for a perfection which, as yet, they have not reached, but towards which they have been moving through unmeasured ages—“the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.” The cry of weariness and suffering and hope also rises from the whole Church of the redeemed on earth; we too are longing for a perfection as yet unattained: “We ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for our adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.” And then the Apostle attributes the same cry of weariness, of suffering, of hope, to the Spirit of God Himself; He is longing to raise all that are in Christ to an unachieved power and blessedness; the sins of the Church, its infirmities, its errors, its sorrows, are a heavy burden to Him. He is “resisted” and He is “grieved”; His intercession for us—so intimately does He share all the evils of our condition—is a kind of agony; He “maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.”

The Holy Spirit helps us, not by revealing to us precisely what we should ask for in each particular emergency, but by securing that our groanings, even though they cannot be articulately expressed, shall serve the purpose of prayer. The Spirit makes intercession for us with these very groanings that cannot be uttered; that is, He not only prompts them, but presents them to God in such a way that they are heard and answered. He who is the hearer of prayer searches the hearts, and does not need that their desires should be expressed in words, in order that He may know what they are.1 [Note: J. S. Candlish.]

All deep emotions are too large for language—they outsoar the narrow range of human speech. Both great joys and great sorrows break forth in tears. Profound longings express themselves in inaudible yearnings. The grandeur of God in nature—the sunset skies, with their pageantry of clouds, the ocean raging in storm, the mountains “crowned with snow and fire”—can awaken thoughts “too deep for tears.” So in a profounder sense, when the soul is touched by the Spirit of God, emotions are awakened which, transcending all expression, break out in deep unutterable aspiration. He knows little of the power of prayer to whom such moments are unknown. Thus, by the inspiration of the Spirit, our wants are felt to be too deep for language, while the fulness of God’s love transcends them all, and, rapt in faith and love, the soul kindles with irrepressible emotion.2 [Note: E. L. Hull.]

The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed

If Thou the spirit give by which I pray:

My unassisted heart is barren clay,

That of its native self can nothing feed:

Of good and pious works Thou art the seed,

That quickens only where Thou say’st it may:

Unless Thou show to us Thine own true way

No man can find it: Father! Thou must lead.

Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind

By which such virtue may in me be bred

That in Thy holy footsteps I may tread;

The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind,

That I may have the power to sing of Thee,

And sound Thy praises everlastingly.1 [Note: Wordsworth.]

II

Our Prayer

1. Prayer.—Prayer must be regarded as twofold. It is a natural instinct, and it is an acquired art. It should be remembered, moreover, that the one depends closely upon the other; for, whereas the former precedes the latter, it is only in proportion as the practice of prayer is persevered in and cultivated that the ability of living in the atmosphere of prayer becomes possible.

This is what the Apostle means when he admonishes us to pray without ceasing, and in such prayers all words and brisk emotions of the heart are for the time in suspense. Such prayers issue calmly forth, being in this respect like the solar light, whose approach we cannot hear, but which is yet accompanied by a warmth that testifies to its presence. Yes, there is a deep, hidden colloquy of holy souls with God, which never ceases any more than does the beating of the pulse in a living man. It consists in an inward tending and aspiring of the soul towards its Source, and, although calm and silent, it influences and governs all the thoughts and volitions of him in whom it takes place. There are instances of the earth sending up from its lowest depth a tepid breath, which is scarcely perceptible to our senses, but which permeates the waters upon its surface, and impregnates them with medicinal virtues. And it is even so with the prayer peculiar to the man of piety; it hinders him in none of his avocations; rather, where it obtains, do these all thrive and prosper.

Day hath her hours told out, her toil for all,

Her time of sunrise and of noon to keep;

Her hour of setting, and of dusky calm,

Her nightfall fragrant with the breath of sleep.

The lark he keepeth his appointed time,

The linnet boasteth of her little span;

Fluff owlets render up their shrill account,

And man hath seasons for his toil with man.

What is for God? Are all His times bespoke?

Remaineth none undedicate to earth?

Are all impregnate with the dews of toil,

Hath Time forgotten in his age his birth?

Abideth yet an hour, most still and grey,

Whose confines all are indeterminate;

Nor to the sun nor stars pertaineth she,

But on the borders is content to wait.

One wing she poiseth on the lap of sleep,

One wing she reacheth to the bridegroom day;

Work is of God, but prayer forerunneth work—

Even so, Father—let us pray!

Silence in Heaven for a space; Amen!

The night shall certify, and the day tell—

But one hour halloweth, with a voiceless speech:

Even so, Father: it is well!1 [Note: C. C. Fraser-Tytler.]

If thou wouldst acquire this peculiar kind of prayer which transcends both place and time, thou must begin with the humility of a child to pray at the particular place appointed by God for the purpose, which place is the sanctuary or the silent closet. Prayer is an art, and every art requires to be learned with pains. Do not therefore shrink from what may seem to thee the trouble of attending at the time and place which God has been pleased to assign. All art, however, by slow degrees, becomes at last a second nature; and so likewise, as thou wilt find, does the art of prayer. And when thou shalt have attained to such proficiency, then thou wilt “neither in this mountain, nor in Jerusalem, worship the Father,” but wilt raise the memorial of His name at any spot on the face of the earth.2 [Note: A. Tholuck.]

Soul, bid thy tossings cease!

Down in the deep profound,

Sink to thy being’s ground,

And there find peace.

Thy God is at thy side!

Offshoot of Him thou art,

And so with thee His heart

Must still abide.

2. The art of praying as we ought.—“For we know not how to pray as we ought.” This clause, depending on the principal one,—“The Spirit also helpeth our infirmity”—makes it clear that the weakness which the Spirit helps is due to our ignorance. In the Greek, the whole clause “how to pray as we ought” is the object of the verb “we know not.” We are brought here, then, to a consideration of our ignorance in asking.

I heard lately of a beautiful instance of a poor man’s trust in the sufficiency of God’s understanding. A sudden storm had overtaken an East Coast fishing fleet, causing them to run for shelter. All got safely home except one boat belonging to an old man who was alone on board it. An anxious crowd gathered at the pier head, but there was no sign of the frail craft on the tumbling waters. At last, when hope had nearly died, it was discerned coming in, and in due time, amid a breathless suspense, reached haven. The old man was plied with questions as to how he had managed to win safely through, and some one asked, “Did ye pray?” “Ay,” said the old fisherman, “I prayed.” “What did ye say?” asked the questioner. “Weel,” was the reply, “I hadna ony great wale o’ words, but I just said to the Lord that surely He wouldna forget an auld man in an open boat in sic a sea as this.”1 [Note: Arch. Alexander.]

(1) Broadly speaking, we do know what we are to pray for—the perfecting of salvation, but we do not know what we are to pray for “as we ought”—according as the need is at the moment; we know the end, which is common to all prayers, but not what is necessary at each crisis of need in order to enable us to attain this end.

(2) Probably it is true to say that the advanced Christian learns to pray more definitely for spiritual things as he grows in spiritual discernment and sees more distinctly what God’s moral will is for himself and others. But there is no similar growth to be expected in the knowledge of what outward gifts will really help or hinder us and others. And it is with his eye chiefly on the outward conditions of the Christian’s life that St. Paul here says that we know not what we should pray for as we ought; and teaches us that the Spirit “maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God.” We must be content to recognize, even while we half-ignorantly pray for what we think we need, that “all (outward) things work together for good to them that love God.” St. Paul had learned that lesson when he himself “besought the Lord thrice” that his great physical trouble might be removed from him, and was refused. The Son of Man Himself prayed only “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me,” and learned in experience that it was not possible. These lessons may suffice to humble any one who grows over-confident that he knows what outward circumstances are best for himself or his friends or the Church.

Whichever way the wind doth blow,

Some heart is glad to have it so;

Then blow it east or blow it west,

The wind that blows, that wind is best.

My little craft sails not alone;

A thousand fleets from every zone

Are out upon a thousand seas;

And what for me were favouring breeze

Might dash another, with the shock

Of doom, upon some hidden rock.

And so I do not dare to pray

For winds to waft me on my way,

But leave it to a Higher Will

To stay or speed me; trusting still

That all is well, and sure that He

Who launched my bark will sail with me

Through storm and calm, and will not fail,

Whatever breezes may prevail,

To land me, every peril past,

Within His sheltering Heaven at last.

Then whatsoever wind doth blow,

My heart is glad to have it so;

And blow it east or blow it west,

The wind that blows, that wind is best.1 [Note: Caroline Atherton Mason.]

Grant, O my God, that in uniform equanimity of mind I may receive whatever happens; since we know not what we should ask, and since I cannot wish for one thing more than another without presumption, and without setting up myself as a judge, and making myself responsible for those consequences which Thy wisdom has determined properly to conceal from me. O Lord, I know that I know but one thing; and that is, that it is good to follow Thee, and evil to offend Thee! After that, I know not what is better or worse in anything; I know not what is more profitable for me, sickness or health, wealth or poverty, nor any other of the things of this world. This was a discovery beyond the power of men or angels; it is veiled in the secrets of Thy providence, which I adore, and which I do not desire to fathom.1 [Note: Blaise Pascal.]

3. Praying under the direction of the Holy Spirit.—There are four very simple lessons that the believer who would enjoy the blessing of being taught to pray by the Spirit of prayer must know.

(1) Let us believe that the Spirit dwells in us. Deep in the inmost recesses of his being, hidden and unfelt, every child of God has the Holy, Mighty Spirit of God dwelling in him. He knows it by faith, the faith that, accepting God’s word, realizes that of which he sees as yet no sign. “We receive the promise of the Spirit through faith.” As long as we measure our power for praying aright and perseveringly by what we feel or think we can accomplish, we shall be discouraged when we hear of how much we ought to pray. But when we quietly believe that, in the midst of all our conscious weakness, the Holy Spirit as a Spirit of supplication is dwelling within us, for the very purpose of enabling us to pray in such manner and measure as God would have us pray, our hearts will be filled with hope. We shall be strengthened in the assurance, which lies at the very root of a happy and fruitful Christian life, that God has made an abundant provision for our being what He wants us to be. We shall begin to lose our sense of burden and fear and discouragement about praying sufficiently, because we see that the Holy Spirit Himself is praying in us.

(2) Let us beware above everything of grieving the Holy Spirit. If we do, how can He work in us the quiet, trustful, and blessed sense of that union with Christ which makes our prayers well-pleasing to the Father? Let us beware of grieving Him by sin, by unbelief, by selfishness, by unfaithfulness to His voice in conscience. The Holy Spirit Himself is the very power of God to make us obedient. The sin that comes up in us against our will, the tendency to sloth, or pride, or self-will, or passion that rises in the flesh, our will can, in the power of the Spirit, reject. Let us accept each day the Holy Spirit as our Leader and Life and Strength; we can count upon Him to do in our heart all that ought to be done there. He, the Unseen and Unfelt One, but known by faith, gives there, unseen and unfelt, the love and the faith and the power of obedience we need, because He reveals Christ unseen within us, as actually our Life and Strength. Let us also see to it that we grieve not the Holy Spirit by distrusting Him, because we do not feel His presence in us. Especially in the matter of prayer let us grieve Him not. That is the best and truest prayer, to put ourselves before God just as we are, and to count on the hidden Spirit praying in us. “We know not how to pray as we ought”; ignorance, difficulty, struggle, mark our prayer all along. But, “the Spirit helpeth our infirmity.” “The Spirit Himself” deeper down than our thoughts or feelings, “maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.” When we cannot find words, when our words appear cold and feeble let us just believe: The Holy Spirit is praying in us. Let us be quiet before God, and give Him time and opportunity; in due season we shall learn to pray.

(3) Let us be filled with the Spirit. It is only the healthy spiritual life that can pray aright. The command comes to each of us: “Be filled with the Spirit.” That implies that while some rest content with the beginning, with a small measure of the Spirit’s working, it is God’s will that we should be filled with the Spirit. That means, from our side, that our whole being ought to be entirely yielded up to the Holy Spirit, to be possessed and controlled by Him alone; and, from God’s side, that we may count upon and expect the Holy Spirit to take possession and fill us. Has not our failure in prayer evidently been owing to our not having accepted the Spirit of prayer to be our life; to our not having yielded wholly to Him, whom the Father gave as the Spirit of His Son, to work the life of the Son in us?

(4) Last of all, let us pray in the Spirit for all saints. The Spirit, who is called “the Spirit of supplication,” is also and very; specially the Spirit of intercession. It is said of Him, “the Spirit himself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.” “He maketh intercession for the saints.” It is the same word as is used of Christ, “who also maketh intercession for us.” The thought is essentially that of mediation—one pleading for another. When the Spirit of intercession takes full possession of us, all selfishness—as if we wanted to have Him separate from His intercession for others, and to have Him for ourselves alone—is banished, and we begin to avail ourselves of our wonderful privilege to plead for men. We long to live the Christ-life of self-consuming sacrifice for others, as our heart unceasingly yields itself to God to obtain His blessing for those around us. Intercession then becomes, not an incident or an occasional part of our prayers, but their one great object. Prayer for ourselves then takes its true place, simply as a means of fitting us better for exercising our ministry of intercession more effectually.

To intercede is to be like the Spirit, to breathe His atmosphere and temper, to join hands with the Advocate above. Intercession is a priestly benediction in which the youngest Christian can exercise his priestly office. Intercession is an offering of love. Intercession is sacrificial.1 [Note: J. F. Vallings.]

Christ suffers not that one should pray for himself alone, but for the whole community of all men. For He teaches us to say, not, “My Father,” but “Our Father.” Prayer is a spiritual, common possession; therefore we must despoil no one of it, not even our enemies. For as He is the Father of us all, He wills that we shall be brothers amongst each other, and pray for one another, as for ourselves.2 [Note: Martin Luther.]

She prays so long! She prays so late!

What sin in all this flower-land

Against her supplicating hand

Could have in heaven any weight?

Prays she for her sweet self alone?

Prays she for some one far away,

Or some one near and dear to-day,

Or some poor, lorn, lost soul unknown?

It seems to me a selfish thing

To pray for ever for one’s self;

It seems to me like heaping pelf

In heaven by hard reckoning.

Why, I would rather stoop, and bear

My load of sin, and bear it well,

And bravely down to burning hell,

Than ever pray one selfish prayer!1 [Note: Cincinnatus Hiner Miller.]

How to Pray as we Ought

Literature

Barrett (G. S.), Musings for Quiet Hours, 35.

Bishop (J. W.), The Christian Year and the Christian Life, 261.

Candlish (J. S.), The Work of the Holy Spirit, 106.

Cox (S.), The House and its Builder, 93.

Davison (W. T.), The Indwelling Spirit, 137.

Gore (C.), Romans, i. 321.

Hull (E. L.), Sermons, iii. 1.

Jackson (G.), Memoranda Paulina, 240.

Jay (W.), Short Discourses, ii. 639.

Maurice (F. D.), Sermons preached in Country Churches, 80.

Meyer (F. B.), Present Tenses, 101.

Moore (E. W.), The Spirit’s Seal, 123.

Murray (A.), The Ministry of Intercession, 116.

New (C.), Sermons preached in Hastings, 147.

Nicoll (W. R.), Ten-Minute Sermons, 19.

Tholuck (A.), Hours of Christian Devotion, 199.

Vallings (J. F.), The Holy Spirit of Promise, 136.

Westcott (B. F.), The Historic Faith, 103.