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nity that would commend it to the favorable consideration of a congress of all religions," the comprehensiveness that would receive the indorsement of Christian scholars, and the evident scripturalness and spirituality that would satisfy the simplehearted believer. We can only conclude that what some of us have esteemed to be necessary forms of belief hitherto are thought by Dr. Watson to be altogether unimportant, and hence, in his view, have no place in the Christian's conception of what an ideal creed should be.

It may be thought by some that this brief critique is too moderate. By others it may be regarded as severe. Whichever judgment may be passed, we have sought to be appreciative, tolerant, and fair. Whatever we may think of Dr. Watson's ideal creed, we will admire, not only the genius, but the actual Christian character, of the man. We do not say that he even inclines to the acceptance of Universalist or Unitarian ideas. But we do say that, in the light of his so-called creed and of at least one chapter in his book, his doctrinal meaning is not perfectly clear, and may be used in the propagation of error. Nor are the best results to be obtained by mere expedients or by the spirit of compromise. We are sure that nothing can be hoped for by timid surrender. True evangelistic leadership will insist upon the recognition of the "exceeding sinfulness of sin," of the need and efficacy of a sacrificial atonement, and of the regenerating power of the Holy Ghost. Concerning these Dr. Watson has but little to say.

Joher J Reed.

ART. II.-THE MEANING OF PRAYER.

ALL men are in their way theologians. Everyone has some deity at whose shrine he bows in prayer. It may be a false god, a deified ancestor whose failings are hid by a halo of reverence, or even the sun, moon, stars, or other natural objects and forces. It may be the true God, whose unseen power is manifested in righteousness and benevolence. The fact of prayer, of adoration to some deity, true or false, is a significant phase of human history and life.

A glance at the religious history of the world shows the universality of prayer. In ancient India over two thousand years ago petitions were chanted by the Vedic priests-hymns of propitiation to Indra, the sky god; of thanks to Agni, the fire god; of fear to Varuna, the great destroyer; and tenderly beautiful supplications to Yama, the god of death. The temples of old Egypt, dedicated to Osiris, god of the dead; to Amen, giver of victory; to Ra, the sun god; and to Ptah, the creator, resounded with entreaties to their patron deities. In the Western world the Aztecs in ancient Mexico brought tribute and human sacrifice to Mexitli and to Quetzalcoatl, god of benevolence. From the altars of classic Greece incense arose through many centuries to Athene, the wise; Zeus, the thunderer; Poseidon, the sea god; Apollo, the princely healer; and Aphrodite, the foamborn beauty; and votive offerings enriched the shrines of the oracles of Delphi, Lesbos, and Dodona. The Romans, with all their genius and endurance, owed their conquests as much to prayer as to warfare. They had their Lares and Penates, gods of the home and family; Vesta, goddess of the quenchless hearth fire; Trivia, goddess of the streets; Jove and Juno, Mars and Venus, Neptune, Pluto, and Bacchus; naiads and nymphs, fauns and satyrs; a deity for every place and condition, to which the devout Romans offered fervent and frequent prayer. Our nearer ancestors, the ancient Saxons and Norsemen, held communion with the mighty Thor, ruler of storms and thunder; with the gentle and beautiful Balder, god of summer; with Frey, giver of rain and harvests and peace; and with Odin, the great all-father. And savage tribes, Indians of America, idolatrous blacks of Central Africa, fetich worshipers

of the sea islands, these and all other peoples have gods to which they offer a sincere but benighted adoration. And the true God has never lacked worshipers. The Hebrews, with clearer insight than their polytheistic neighbors in Chaldea, Assyria, and Egypt, prayed to him as El Shaddai the mighty; as Elohim Sebaoth, God of the hosts of heaven and earth; as Jehovah, the living one. And the petitions spoken with incense and sacrifice at the altars of Israel yielded at last to the purer prayers of the early Christians, to spiritual communion with the great Comforter. Thus in prayer the Church was founded by Christ and extended by Paul and his brethren. In prayer its missions were spread from India to Britain. In prayer the martyrs died in the arena. In prayer the Church councils were held. In prayer battles have been fought and nations founded. In prayer Luther established Protestantism, Columbus claimed the New World for Spain and the Church, and the Huguenots and Puritans sought the freer life of the Western world.

Prayers rise incessantly in the daily life of the world. Today, as in ancient times, the Brahman priests supplicate hideous idols, and Buddhists in Japan tie their paper petitions to the lattice screens at the shrines of the great Gautama. Many times daily the muezzin calls the faithful of Islam to prayers, and many millions of worshipers still bow before gods of metal, wood, and stone. In Christian nations prayer is offered in public meetings and on national occasions. Congress and legislatures have their chaplains and services. In educational institutions prayer has a permanent place. Universities, colleges, academies, and some public schools have stated times for it. In the religious world it is a vital part of the regular services, Sabbath school, official and social meetings, and is peculiarly prominent in the weekly prayer meetings. It enters into domestic life, as family prayers or as the blessing at meals, and is part of the personal experience of all believers.

A fact so prevalent in the history and life of the world must command the attention and interest of every thoughtful mind. It seems a just claim that everyone, whether a Christian or not, should have an intelligent understanding of the meaning of prayer. All prayers are petitions from a worshiper to a deity. In the church services the minister says, "Let us unite in prayer." The worshipers then kneel, or stand, or bow their

heads. All eyes are closed. The preacher, in a similar attitude, with clasped hands, leads them in prayer. In subdued tones, which may sometimes tremble with emotion or rise in throbs of supplication or melt in fervent thanksgiving, he talks to this invisible and inaudible Being, which he addresses as "God," or "Lord," or "Our Father in heaven," or " Almighty God." His words guide the thoughts of the listening people. He prays for the "sick and afflicted," for "those weak in the faith," for the unconverted, for all good causes, such as the Church, Christian temperance, Christian education, and missions. He confesses and asks forgiveness for the sins of his people and of the world. After speaking thus for a short time he ascribes holiness, glory, and power to this supreme Being, and says, "All this we ask in Christ's name," or merely uses the phrase "for Christ's sake," and then closes with the word. "Amen," a Hebrew adverb meaning "firmly," "certainly," so be it." Then the congregation resume the ordinary position in the pews, and the service proceeds. An act so unique as this communion of a sinful human being with an infinitely holy Deity suggests various queries which may perhaps be answered by scrutinizing prayer from several points of view:

I. The psychological. The act of prayer is the culmination of normal mental conditions. One who prays does so because he cannot help it. He is in mental distress which demands relief. Into that desert land of the self, where each of us dwells in loneliness, has suddenly flashed a revelation of weakness, selfishness, and guilt; and far away on the heights of consciousness the dweller sees a splendor of unattained possibilities. And toiling toward this transfiguration of his latent powers his futile struggles declare his need of One who, knowing infinitely better than he the hidden dangers of the psychic wilderness, can guide him aright. This Guide can be no other than the supreme mind, God. For all other finite minds are making the same weary journey. Prayer, therefore, is the spontaneous yearning for the Companion. And, as the brilliant and genial Professor James aptly says, "The impulse to pray is a necessary consequence of the fact that, whilst the innermost of the empirical selves of a man is a self of the social sort, it yet can find its only adequate Socius in an ideal world." Thus, in

* Psychology, p. 192. New York, 1892.

prayer, the petitioner communes with the ideal Self whose holiness he vainly strives to realize. His sorrows and longings are understood, and his burdens are lightened, because his secrets are known, by an infinitely compassionate Friend.

sense.

The act of prayer involves some definite and important psychic processes. The habit of prayer is an advantage and a danger. Habitual prayer is easier, and by care and accompanying works may become a controlling power in every life. But it is liable to degenerate into a subconscious routine, like eating and walking, and its efficacy is thereby endangered. The mind that would commune with its Companion must be properly secluded. The quiet Sabbath, free from the turmoil of business; the evening hour, after the cares of the day; the sanctuary, from whose dim light all harsh sounds and sights are excluded; the worshiper's closed eyes and subdued tones are requisites for shielding the spirit from the disturbances of In true prayer the attention must be directed to God. Thus, only by effort can there be access to the divine consciousness. Grouping its petitions around some definite need, daily noticing new beauty in the changes of Christian experience, finding the shock of disappointment only a stimulus to closer scrutiny of failings and possibilities, all valid prayer requires voluntary attention. Those who pray are led to greater delicacy of moral discrimination. The holiness and sin, the gold and dross, the slime and cleanness in others and in himself, stand out in their true proportions and vividness when seen through the correcting transparency of prayer. Viewed through its achromatic purity, the pomp and glory of the world vanish, its colors fade, its great dwindle, mammon's jewels become baubles and its robes tatters, Rome is a wilderness and Nazareth an empire, Cæsar a servant and Paul dictator, and the despised Galilean is King of kings. The last is first and the first last, death is life, prosperity is doom, the tipsy world grows sober, and superficial contrasts disappear when by prayer we discern amid life's seeming chaos the dominant purpose of the great Judge who judges all things well. In prayer the scope of this purpose is revealed. By the silent, swift bonds of association the remotest and minutest objects and events are united into a spiritual system wherein the meaning of the world is more clearly seen. In suggestive influence