The Christian knows the blessedness of earnest prayer. He frequently retires to his closet to spread out before his Maker those personal wants and confessions which can only be disclosed to Him. His sins and imperfections lead him to seek forgiveness and increased sanctification. His love to God kindles a desire to know more of that blessedness which springs up in the soul, holding intimate communion with its Author. Bearing the name, he wishes to possess the spirit and reflect the image of his Master. The consolation and peace which he experiences in his private devotions make these seasons a privilege and a delight. So true is this of the really renewed in heart, that we might as well expect a man dying of thirst to abstain from water placed within his reach, as the Christian from the spiritual refreshment derived from prayer. It is the life of his religion. Without it he declines, and soon becomes spiritually dead.
Prayer in the family is as well adapted to the wants of a household, as secret prayer to the individual Christian. Its necessity arises from our social nature. As we are bound together by the strong bonds of mutual wants and sympathies, it is fitting to worship God in a social manner. It is this sympathy and identity of interests which make it appropriate for the members of a church to unite in common acts of public worship. But nowhere is this sympathy so strong, or this unity of interests so real and permanent, as in the family circle. In no other circumstances will sympathy arise so spontaneously. Does prosperity crown the labors of the head of a family, all its members share the blessing with him; or does some calamity overtake him, his distress instantly pervades the household. Whatever is enjoyed or suffered, extends its influence to all within the loved circle. They rejoice and mourn, smile and weep together. And hence there is no place where the emotions of the heart have fuller and freer play; and no place where the influence of prayer is more powerfully felt. In such acts of worship, natural affection comes to the aid of religion and imparts peculiar fervency to the exercise. No more tender and impressive scene does this world furnish than where a father, as the priest of his own household, gathers his family around him, and spreading out their individual wants at a throne of grace, supplicates for them their needed blessings. It may be that death has stricken down one of their number, and with subdued and chastened feelings the burdened heart finds relief in imploring grace to bear the heavy stroke, and to profit by the solemn
event. What fervency, what unction is there in such devotions! Who that has witnessed, can forget them?
And there is no one influence that will do more to induce children to love and practice religion than that of family worship. If we wish to have their conduct conformed to the principles of the gospel, we must do more than enjoin religion upon them. We must exemplify it in our conduct. If we wish them to be truthful, we must be careful always to observe the strictest veracity. If we desire to see them upright, we must suffer nothing to tarnish the integrity of our conduct. So if we wish to train up children in the fear of the Lord, and in the habit of prayer, we must set them an example of devotion. Nothing will so surely and powerfully impress them with the importance of this duty, as being called together at stated times to take part in devout supplications to God. They can scarcely help feeling its importance when daily witnessing such diligence and fervor in this holy exercise. What parent then, deserving of the name and honored relation, will neglect to employ this most effectual means to secure the blessings of virtue and religion to his offspring? If he persists in this neglect, convinced, as he must be, of its high value, is he not guilty of great injustice toward them; and may they not with propriety accuse him of neglecting their temporal and eternal welfare? And if, because of this cruel neglect, they grow up in indifference to religion, and become vicious members of society, he must reproach himself for his remissness in duty, and feel that he is in a great degree responsible for their ruin.—Sel.