SECTION II. ON WANDERING THOUGHTS IN PRAYER. WE, that acquaint ourselves with every zone, DAVIES. IN that little world within, are found many winding, intricate, crossing tracks; many byeroads and dark lanes, but seldom explored, because few are accustomed to travel there. It is true, the Bible supplies us with a good map of the human heart, correctly delineating all the swamps and torrents, the rocks and ruins, the wilds and deserts, of this dreary and barren region. By a strict attention to this guide, we should make daily discoveries of great use to us. Know thyself the oracular sentence written over the entrance of the temple at Delphos, though a heathen maxim, deserves a place in the code of Christian morality. It points to a kind of science, confessedly difficult to acquire, but universally necessary. Those who make the most rapid and astonishing progress in other branches of study, are often grossly deficient in self-knowledge. It would be thought strange, if the possessor of a large estate should eagerly hurry from province to province in foreign countries, and never visit or examine his own lands, to learn how they were bounded, guarded, and cultivated. We might justly say of him, it would be well for that man to stay at home; as it can neither be to his honour nor advantage, that he should suffer his estate to be injured by wanton vagrants, or invaded by ravaging foes, while he is running hither and thither, as humour prompts, or fashion calls. Is there one of us, upon whom this censure does not fall? Is it not of far greater moment, wisely to keep and cultivate the mind, than carefully to superintend the best estate? Yet who does not leave it to be wasted by intruders, or covered with poisonous plants and noxious weeds? Who maintains the fences with proper care, or casts out the rubbish and roots of bitterness, which at once disfigure its appearance, and destroy its best produce? How much deadness of spirit injures the Christian in his access to God, I have already shewn; nor is distraction an evil less common, or less injurious. One would think that, when the Christian deliberately quits the motley scenes, with the vapid and vexatious pursuits of the world, and retires into his private apartment for devotion, the very importance of the duty itself would instantly fix and rivet his attention. The authority of the divine commands, the solemnity of the divine presence, and the high privilege of holding special intercourse with the greatest and best of Beings, might be expected to fill the soul with serious and sedate reflections, and leave no room for wild, incongruous ideas to enter. But is it so in point of fact? Let the sincere, humble, blushing, and confounded Christian, give the answer. Conscious of what passes within, while with bended knees, and uplifted hands, he is engaged in the sacred exercises of devotion, let him ingenuously speak the truth, if his deep sighs and groans do not give a more intelligible and affecting reply to the question, than any mere words can convey. I hate vain thoughts." But who uses such language? Is this the man after God's own heart? Is this the devout shepherd of Bethlehem, who taught echo to repeat Jehovah's praise? Is this the sweet Psalmist, who, with his well-toned harp, had skill enough to charm away the demon of despair from a king, whose wounded pride, and melancholy gloom, had made him an object of compassion to his meanest subject? Is this the man who longed for the office of a door 66 keeper in the House of God, and would have preferred that humble, yet comparatively happy place, to the most splendid pavilion of luxury and sin? The very same: yet he complains of vain thoughts. Ah, David! explain this matter! What can vain thoughts have to do with thee? They may revel with the sons of Belial, in their midnight festivals, and lewd intrigues; but will not come near the saint, who is given up to meditation and prayer. Yes, they come uncalled, gain admission, and lodge within me. But why make such unseemly and unsuitable guests welcome? No, no; I hate them. Strange and unaccountable! for if they are detested, why are they not immediately driven out, and effectually excluded? This is the mystery which remains to be unfolded. Every Christian can join with David in confessing and deploring vain thoughts. But my present purpose is to shew how they affect us, as engaged in prayer. "Wandering thoughts are the disorderly motions of the soul, by which the mind is diverted or disturbed in the time of God's worship." When the Christian begins to address his supplications and thanksgivings to the mighty King of kings, how often does he find a sort of mental mutiny within! The powers of the soul, like the ill-disciplined refractory troops of an army, disobey the orders of the will, break the line of march, and, starting from their ranks, cause inextricable confusion. It was some experience of this kind, which made the Apostle of the Gentiles exclaim, "For the good that I would, I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do. Now if I do that I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. I find then a law, that when I would do good, evil is present with me. For I delight in the law of God after the inward man: But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin, which is in my members." Rom. vii. 19-23. It is surprising what impious and horrid thoughts sometimes rush into the imagination, while we are prostrate at the footstool of our heavenly Father; and they throw a shivering chill over the ardent spirit, and leave the most painful recollections, as marks of the mischief they have done. "Evil thoughts," observes Mr. Powell," are continually arising out of our hearts, as sparks out of a furnace: when we would pray, the heart is as a viol out of tune." How frequently do idle and trivial thoughts flit across the mind! those light transient vagaries of fancy, which rise, vanish, and reappear, with a rapidity equal to the twinkling of the eye. One while, the images of beloved friends, or the calumnies of open enemies, or |