Bible Instances
“The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man araileth much.”
Some have no turn for poetry, and others have no taste for science. Many have no aptitude for argument and dissertation, and no comprehension for abstract statement. But almost all men have an avidity for history. And what is history? It is truth alive and actual — truth embodied — truth clothed in our kindred clay. It is knowledge, not afloat on the mist-bounded sea — the shoreless abyss of speculation — but knowledge coasting it in sight of the familiar landmarks of time and place; knowledge anchored to this human heart, and coming ashore on this our every-day existence. It is the maxim of the book made interesting —
p 2 the lesson of the pulpit or the desk made simple and delightful, by being read anew in living men. It is the grace made lovelier, and the attainment made more hopeful, by its exhibition in men of like passions and like affections with ourselves. The human spirit craves for history, and the Bible meets this craving. The half of it is history; and we shall devote this morning to some names of prayerful renown — Bible instances and their modern parallels.
1. The first we quote is Enoch. He walked with God. The conception we form of him, from what the Bible tells us, is, that his was a life of delightful communion and constant devotion. He had discovered the living God, and from the moment of that discovery, could date his blessed life. So correct was his view of the Divine character, that he was irresistibly drawn towards it in confidence and love. So vivid was that view that he never forgot it, and so influential that it completely altered him. He “came to God;” “he walked with God;” and “he pleased God.” “Every sacred engagement was performed with a holy alacrity. Every call to worship welcomed as it came, from its inviting him to contact with ’ the Father of Spirits.’ Every excursion of sanctified thought — every emotion of virtuous feeling — was sustained and encouraged, in anticipation of this intercourse, or as the result of its enjoyment. ‘God was in all his thoughts.’ If he looked upon the heavens, he was there; if he contemplated the earth, he was there; if he retired into his own bosom, he was there. He felt his presence pressing, as it were, upon his senses. It was the congenial element of his moral being — the atmosphere in which his spirit was refreshed. There was no terror to him in the great and holy name; he felt no tumultuary agitation, because ‘God had beset him behind and before, encompassing all his ways.’ The recollection of this was rather a source of sacred and animated pleasure; it invested every thing with a new property; it disclosed to him the spiritual essence that pervades the universe; and thus gave him ever to feel as within the circle of the sublimest satisfactions.”*
And so, my friends, do you seek Enoch’s
* Binney on Hebrews xi., pp. 89, 90. r 3 introduction to the living God. Go to him, as Enoch went, believing that he is, and that he is accessible.* And seek to get into the same just and realizing knowledge of him that Enoch got. He is revealed to you more amply, perhaps, than he was to Enoch. Believe. Believe that he is not afar off, but nigh. Believe that he is not hostile, but propitious. Believe that he is all that Jesus said — that he is all that Jesus was — and, believing this, walk with him. Admit him into your home, that he may hallow it. Admit him into your hourly occupations, that he may elevate and expedite them. Admit him into your happy moments, that he may enhance them; and into your hours of anguish, that his presence may tranquillize and transform them. Let his recollected presence be the brightness of every landscape — the zest of every pleasure — the energy for every undertaking — the refuge from every danger — the solace in every sorrow — the asylum of your hidden life, and the constant Sabbath of your soul. Learn — with all reverence for his greatness, but with equal
* Hebrews ii. G.
reliance on his goodness — learn to make the eye that never slumbers the companion of your nights and mornings; and the ear that never wearies — make it the confidant of your weakness, your solicitude, your ecstasy, and woe. Learn to have not one life for God and another for the world; but let your earthly life be divinely directed and divinely quickened — let every footstep be a walk with God.
2. There was no prophet in Israel like unto Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face; and, like all the conspicuous characters of Scripture, Moses was a man of prayer. He, too, had been introduced into a peculiar acquaintance with the living God, and, from the memorable interview at the burning bush, there always rested on him an impress of that high fellowship to which he had been admitted. It was not only when the brightness of some recent interview lit up his countenance with new and painful glory; but on his habitual look there lingered that blended benignity and majesty which, once seen in the aspect of Jehovah, its memorial might always be seen in himself. The Lord had heard Moses’ prayer;* and if he had not shown him all his glory, he had at least made all his goodness pass before him; and from that moment when, hidden in the mountain-cleft, the cloud swept over him, and the pulses of encircling power and sanctity thrilled through him, no conviction lodged deeper in Moses’ mind, and no element of influence told more constantly on Moses’ character, than the assurance that “the Lord is merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth.” The secret of the Lord was with him; and surely it is important to know how one who knew the Lord’s mind so well, and with whom the Lord so spake, face to face — how such a one was wont to pray. And I think you will notice these things in Moses’ prayers: — (1.) A hopefulness which felt that no moment was too late, nor any depth of misery too profound, for prayer. When brought to a stand-still on the Red Sea shore — when almost poisoned by the waters of Marah — when like to be swallowed up by the fierceness of Amalek — it was all the same. Moses
* Exodus xxxiii. 1
BIl’.LE INSTANCES. 177
had instant recourse to the arm of Jehovah, and that arm brought salvation. And, in a case more daunting still — when successive sins had made the people outlaws from the covenant and its mercies — when they erected the golden calf — when Korah and his company rebelled — when Miriam was struck with leprosy — when the fire of God was sweeping through the “camp — when the burning serpents were darting death and consternation on every side — these rapid plagues, the wickedness of the people, and their wild dismay, which would have made another leader” faint,” only made Moses pray. He recollected “the Lord merciful and gracious, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin;” and, when other hearts were sinking, he still could “hope in God’s mercy,” and his hopeful prayers were ever procuring fresh forgiveness. (2.) And, besides this expectancy of mercy — this confidence of being heard — you may notice a holy urgeyicy in Moses’ prayers. How he pleads with God! How firm he takes his stand on the Divine perfections and the special promises, and with what security he argues from them! “Lord, why doth thy wrath wax hot against thy people, which thou hast brought forth out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mightyhand? Wherefore should the Egyptians speak and say, ‘For mischief did he bring them out, to slay them in the mountains, and to consume them from the face of the earth? ‘Turn from thy fierce wrath and repent of this evil against thy people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, thy servants, to whom thou swarest by thine own self, and saidst unto them, ‘I will multiply your seed as the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have spoken of will I give unto your seed, and they shall inherit it for ever.’ “* And that other time, when the Lord threatened to annihilate the murmuring people — “‘And now, I beseech thee, let the power of my Lord be great, according as thou hast spoken, saying, ‘The Lord is long-suffering and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression, and by no means clearing the guilty.’ Pardon, I beseech thee, the iniquity of this people, according unto the greatness of thy mercy, and as thou hast forgiven this people, from Egypt even until
* Exodus xxxii.
now.’ And the Lord said, ‘I have pardoned, according to thy word.’”*
From Moses, learn to pray and never faint. However awful the exigency, however near the destruction, and however abused past mercy may have been, still resort to him whose power is beyond all exigencies, and whose pity is more prompt than our repentance. And from Moses, learn to glorify God, by pleading in prayer his perfections and his promises. That prayer will bring an absolute answer, which has for its foundation the Lord’s absolute assurance; and, in the absence of a positive promise, that prayer will procure some mitigation or some mercy, which makes cordial mention of the Lord’s goodness and loving-kindness. Remember the word unto thy servant, upon which thou hast caused me to hope.
3. Passing on to the “man after God’s own heart,” we find, of human models, the most perfect specimen of prayer. It is not so much the frequency of his devotional exercises, though these were seven times a-day; nor
Numbers xiv. 17 — 20.
the memorable returns which these prayers procured, for the prayers of Elijah and others may have brought about more miraculous results — may have drawn down, in the world’s eye, more stupendous returns; but it is that David was so signally a man of prayer, and that his prayers, in themselves, are so pre-eminent. He prayed without ceasing, and with all prayer, in every thing making known his requests, and in every thing giving thanks. Taking possession of his new house, or retreating from it — on the eve of battle and in the flush of victory — among the sheep-cotes and in the mountain-pass — on the tented field and in the trading town — in the shepherd’s hut and on the monarch’s throne — in the full height of spiritual joy and in the depths of guilty misery — we find him still the man of prayer. And these prayers have in them every thing that enters into our idea of what prayer should be. David’s was the darting eye that could catch upon the wing the fleetest of nature’s phantoms and the swiftest flights of man’s imaginings; and the divining eye that could detect the passion ere it mantled on Doeg’s swarthy cheek, or read the cunning scheme ere it glanced from under Achitophel’s polished brow. And his own soul was the well-tuned harp on which, from the deep notes of dull and doubtful feeling up to the Shrillest tones of ecsuitic bliss or woe, the diapason sounded the full compass of all the emotions which this harp of thousand strings is able to express. And whilst his soul was thus susceptible and his eye thus quick, in his hand he held a poet’s pen, and could transfer into equal words each intuition of his ranging eye, and each aspiration of his yearning heart. And when you recollect that all this glowing fancy and earnest feeling and creative diction were the clothing of a spirit to which Jehovah was the chiefest joy — by which the living God was known and loved, adored and trusted — you can see how the Book of Psalms must ever be the completest manual of devotion.
(1.) From David, learn in every thing to pray. Learn to ask God’s blessing on little things as well as great. There is nothing which it is right for us to do, but it is also right to ask that God would bless it; and, indeed, there is nothing so little but the frown of God can convert it into the most sad cala-Q mity, 01* his smile exalt it into a most memorable mercy; and there is nothing we can do, but its complexion for weal or woe depends entirely on what the Lord will make it. It is said of Matthew Henry, that “no journey was undertaken, nor any subject or course of sermons entered upon; no book committed to the press, nor any trouble apprehended or felt, without a particular application to the mercy-seat for direction, assistance, and success.”* And, on a studying day, he writes, “I forgot explicitly and especially when I began to crave help of God, and the chariot-wheels drove accordingly.” f It is recorded of Cornelius Winter, that he seldom opened a book, even on general subjects, without a moment’s prayer. The late Bishop Heber, on each new incident of his history, or on the eve of any undertaking, used to compose a brief Latin Prayer, imploring special help and guidance. No doubt such a prayer preceded the composition of his famous poem “Palestine.” At least, after it had gained the prize, and been
Life, by Sir J. B. Williams, p. 211. + Tong’s Life of Henry, p. GO. I Jay’s Life of Winter, p. 250.
read in the ears of applauding Oxford, when the assembly had broken up the successful scholar could no where be found, till some one discovered him on his knees, thanking God who had given him the power to produce that poem, and who had spared his parents to witness and share his joy.* A late physician of great celebrity used to ascribe much of his success to three maxims of his father, the last and best of which was, “Always pray for your patients.”f
(2.) From David, learn to give thanks in every thing. “Every furrow in the Book of Psalms is sown with seeds of thanksgiving.” Many of the Psalms are songs of vigorous and continuous praise: “Oh, give thanks unto the Lord!” and others which begin with grief and confession and complaint, presently slide into gratitude. Praise is the believer’s seemliest attire; and those have been the most attractive Christians whose every-day adorning was the garment of praise. It is mentioned of the famous Moravian, Count Zinzendorf,
* Life of Heber, quarto, vol. i. p. 33. t Memoir of James Hope, M.D., p. 51. t Jeremy Taylor.
Q 2 that “in his very aspect might be discerned the blessedness of a heart sprinkled from an evil conscience with the blood of the Lamb. He looked for nothing but good from the Lord, in whom he delighted; and every subject of thankfulness, however inconsiderable it might seem to others, was important and interesting to him.”* “I am surrounded with goodness, and scarcely a day passes over my head but I say, ‘Were it not for an ungrateful heart, I should be the happiest man alive; ’ and that excepted, I neither expect nor wish to be happier in this world. My wife, my children, and myself in health; my friends kind; my soul at rest; and my labours successful. Who should not be content and thankful if I should not? O my brother, help me to praise!” f
(3.) From David, learn to delight in God, and so to view each scene in creation, and each event in providence, in God’s own purest light. God was his chiefest joy, his sure and ascertained Friend; and every scene was pleac Life, pp. 508, 509.
t Fuller’s Life of Pearce, p. 36 sant where God’s presence was enjoyed, and every object interesting in which aught of God’s glory could be seen. He felt Jehovah’s tread in the shaking wilderness and the quivering forest. He saw Jehovah’s chariot in the rolling cloud, the eddying tornado, and the wheeling water-spout. He heard Jehovah’s voice in the thunder-psalm and in ocean’s echoing chime. He heard it, too, in the hum of leafy trees, and in the music that trickled down the mountain’s side. He recognised Jehovah’s frown in the splitting rocks and smoking hills; and he hailed Jehovah’s smile in the melting tints of morning, in the laughing joy of harvest-fields, in the glancing roll of sun-steeped billows, and the plunging gambols of leviathan, as he played his ponderous frolics there.* Every touch of pathos or power passed away a heavenward melody from the -ZEolian harp of his devotional spirit; and, not content with these strains of constant adoration, on some occasions you can see him mustering all his being for some effort of ecstatic worship, and longing to flame aloft a
* See Psalms xxix., lxv., civ., cxlviii., &c. Q 3 holocaust of praise. Describing the change which came over his own feelings from the time that he knew God in Christ, President Edwards says, “The appearance of everything was altered; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast or appearance of Divine glory in almost every thing. God’s excellency, his wisdom, his purity, and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, and moon, and stars; in the clouds and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water and all nature, which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for continuance; and in the day spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things; in the mean time singing forth, with a low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer.... My mind was greatly fixed on Divine things, almost perpetually in the contemplation of them. I oft walked alone in the woods and solitary places, for meditation, soliloquy, and prayer, and converse with God.... Prayer seemed to be natural to me, as the breath by which the inward burnings of my heart had vent.”
4. And to take only one instance more — “the man greatly beloved.” Daniel was a busy statesman. Darius had made him his chief minister. He had charge of the royal revenue, and was virtual ruler of the empire. But amidst all the cares of office he maintained his wonted custom of praying thrice a-day.* For these prayers nothing was neglected. The administration of justice was not standing still; the public accounts did not run into confusion. There was no mutiny in the army, no rebellion in the provinces, from any mismanagement of his. And though disappointed rivals were ready to found an impeachment on the slightest flaw, so wise and prompt and impartial was his procedure, that they at last concluded, “We shall find no occasion against this Daniel, except we find it against him concerning the law of his God.” He found leisure to rule the realm of Babylon, and leisure to pray three times a-day. Some would say that he must have been a first-rate man of business to find so much time for prayer. It would be nearer the truth to say that it was his taking so much
* Daniel vi. 10.
time to pray which made him so diligent and successful in business. It was from God that Daniel got his knowledge, his wisdom, and his skill. In the composure and serenity which these frequent approaches to God imparted to his spirit, as well as in the supernatural sagacity and forethought and power of arrangement which God gave in direct answer to his prayers, he had an infinite advantage over those men who, refusing to acknowledge God in their callings, vex themselves in vain, and who, when the fret and worry and sweltering of their jaded day are ended, find that they have accomplished less, and that little far more painfully, than their wiser brethren who took time to pray. The man must be busier than Daniel who has not time to pray, and wiser than Daniel who can do what Daniel did without prayer to help him. Daniel was in a place where prayer was eminently needful. He was in Babylon — a place of luxury and revelry — and from his position in society he was peculiarly exposed to the idolatrous and voluptuous temptations around him. It was difficult, and ere long it was dangerous, to maintain his singularity. But so far as there was any seduction in the mirth of that jovial city, prayer kept him separate; and so far as there was any danger in withholding countenance from its idolorgies, prayer made him bold. Though the clash of the cymbal and the shouts of the dancers were coming in at the window, they did not disturb his devotion; and though he had not forgotten the king’s decree and the lions’ den, he did not close the lattice nor try to conceal his faith and his worship; and, secure alike from spiritual detriment and personal danger, the Lord hid his praying servant in the hollow of his hand.
Among the elegant forms of insect life, there is a little creature known to naturalists, which can gather round it a sufficiency of atmospheric air — and, so clothed upon, it descends into the bottom of the pool, and you may see the little diver moving about dry and at his ease, protected by his crystal vesture, though the water all around and above be stagnant and bitter. Prayer is such a pro.- tector — a transparent vesture, the world sees it not — but a real defence, it keeps out the world. By means of it the believer can gather so much of heaven’s atmosphere around him, and with it descend into the putrid depths of this contaminating world, that for a season no evil will touch him; and he knows where to ascend for a new supply. Communion with God kept Daniel pure in Babylon. Nothing else can keep us safe in London. In “secret of God’s presence” you might tread these giddy streets, and your eyes never view the vanity. You might pass theatres and taverns, and never dream of entering in. You might get invitations to noisy routs and God-forgetting assemblies, and have no heart to go. Golden images, public opinion with its lions’ den, and fashion with its fiery furnace, would never disturb you. A man of prayer in this mart of nations, you could pass upon your way unseduced and undistracted, a Christian in Vanity Fair, a pilgrim in a paradise of fools, a true worshipper amidst idolaters, a Daniel in Babylon.
And so far as this is a world of distress and danger, prayer is the best defence. So Daniel found it in the den. So his three friends found it in the fiery furnace. And so you, my friends, will find it in the real or fancied perils of this mortal life. “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it and is safe.” An asylum ever open, the ejaculation of an instant will land you in it, and nothing is evil which befalls you there. By the omnipotent help which it at once secures, prayer is strength in weakness and courage in dismay. It is the buoy which rides the roaring flood, the asbestos-robe which defies the devouring flame. It is the tent in which frailty sleeps securely, and anguish forgets to moan. It is the shield on which the world and the wicked one expend their darts in vain. And when panic and temptation and agony are all over — whether wafted by Sabbath zephyrs, or winged by scorching flames — whether guided by hymning angels, or dragged by raging lions — whether the starting-point be Patmos, or Jerusalem, or Smithfielcl, or Babylon — it is the chariot which conveys the departing spirit into a Saviour’s arms.