to rob God; to offer it up under pressure is to make it the refuge of a coward rather than the offering of a pious heart. To be real and acceptable it must be a free-will offering.

(3) The forthputting of effort. Prayer is a condition of activity rather than of passivity. It is a form of self-action. It calls for attention; for the curbing of wandering thoughts, the fixing of the mind by a definite effort of the will upon a given object, the holding of the mind in a waiting, expectant attitude. The Mystics delighted in representing the soul as a garden watered by prayer. Saint Teresa elaborates this metaphor, and speaks of four ways in which this is done by drawing from a well, by a water wheel, by causing a stream to flow through it, or by rain from heaven. These stages represent different degrees of passivity, the goal being reached when the soul lies open to God as a plowed field to the rain. But this representation does not cover the case. The metaphor is overstrained. There may be passive waiting, but there cannot be passive praying. Prayer always calls for effort, sometimes for strenuous effort. The soul does not naturally lie open to God as a plowed field to the rain; it opens itself to him by conscious effort; it does not merely allow the rain to soak in, it actively absorbs it. To pray truly is never an easy thing; it takes a resolute act of the will to stir oneself up to lay hold on God, and it takes sustained effort of the will to continue undistractedly in the exercise of prayer.

(4) The awakening of desire. It is interesting to watch the birth and growth and decay of desire as it expresses itself in prayer. Sometimes it wells up spontaneously from the depths of the heart, expressing itself in a vague yearning after higher things; sometimes it is languid; sometimes, aroused by outward stimuli, it arises to the highest pitch of emotional fervency. However produced, it is the stuff out of which prayers are made.

Looked at on its deeper side, it is a self-kindled fire, burning within the breast, and fanned into a flame by the power of self-excitation. It has its origin in man's nature and needs. As a creature of needs man is a creature of desires. His desires change as his needs change, and his needs change as he changes. Now, it is of the nature of prayer not only to furnish vent for desire but to purify and ennoble it. In the awful Presence to which prayer ascends every selfish and sinful desire is withered up; and every low and unworthy desire is elevated and brought into harmony with the Sovereign Will.

(5) The calling into play of the imagination. There is a whole set of mental images, of which prayer makes constant use, founded upon the relation existing between the human and the divine. God is by turn a Father, a King, a Shepherd, a Husband, a Friend, a Guardian, a Guide, a Saviour, and many things besides. These various figures under which he is represented appeal to the poetical element in human nature; they call for some per

sonalizing of the Infinite; some picturing to the imagination of the One to whom prayer is directed. No one can pray to "a principle,” and even if the brooding presence be regarded as formless, it must needs be focalized and personalized to the imagination, so as to mean something living, real, and responsive.

But the chief mental image of God, and the one that helps us most in prayer, is that provided in Him who is "the image of the invisible God." When we think of God we think of him as like Jesus; and when we think of Jesus we have before our mind's eye a picture of embodied moral perfection, which imagination constructs out of the scanty materials furnished in the fragmentary records of his life. And what, although, as Dr. David Smith has said, "One's mental image of Jesus is only a dream-face," it is this "dream-face" which gives to many the only tangible conception of God obtainable when they seek to find a realizing sense of his presence.

When prayer is offered for others there is also brought into play what may be called the sympathetic imagination. The image of the one prayed for is called up. We see him before us; we enter into his life; we endeavor to see things as he sees them, and interpret in our prayer what is most urgent within the circle of his needs. In this way the man who prays is lifted out of the prosaic world around him. He becomes an idealist. Things which eye hath not seen nor ear heard are revealed

to him. He lives in the invisible realm where spirit meets with spirit, and where wondrous things are done which were never dreamed of in our philosophies.

(6) A craving for self-expression. Prayer is one of the ways in which the soul-life is expressed. "It is the putting forth of vital energy. It is the highest effort of which the human spirit is capable" (J. R. Mott). We express ourselves to God in prayer, "as the universe expresses God to us." We seek to let him know what we think and feel. This we do by vocal utterance; but vocal utterance is never an isolated and unrelated act in the life of a religious man; it is, rather, a passing act in which his whole life is involved, and in which his whole life is temporarily expressed. Prayer is conterminous with life. It is the whole life that prays. Hence a man's prayer will go up or down to the level of his life. As he thinks in his heart so will he pray. In his prayers all that is inmost in his life will be expressed. But fullness of expression in prayer can never be realized when prayer is individualistic. The highest prayer has its roots in man's social nature, and comes from the working of an altruistic spirit that demands social expression. When anyone becomes absorbed in himself the stream of prayer soon dries up; when his interests reach out beyond himself "his thoughts of others gradually become prayers" (Forbes Robinson). In view of these facts, it is passing strange that the place of prayer in the solution of the social problem should

have been so largely overlooked. Yet it touches the core of the whole matter. Apart from its power as a working force in the world's life, it creates a new consciousness of social values, and awakens sentiments which ultimately find expression in the relations of society. Never is man's social consciousness more keenly alive, and never is he brought into closer sympathy with the social problem around him than when he prays for others. The more he prays for them the more intensive grows his love for them, and the stronger grows his desire to help them.

These suggestions concerning the psychology of prayer touch only the fringe of the subject. There is much in psychology which prayer does not take into account; for it has to do with what comes within the range of observation, and knows nothing of unseen forces. That consciousness of the divine fellowship, which is the deepest thing in prayer and with which the prayer begins and ends, is beyond its ken. What the psychologist sees is a soul attempting to rise, like a bird with a broken wing, and often falling earthward; what he does not see is a soul which has found a resting place, where no mortal eye can follow it, in the bosom of the Eternal Father.

6. The Trend of Modern Thought Is Throwing Light upon the Relation of Prayer to Law.

One of the most common objections to prayer has been its seeming opposition to the uniformity of the natural order. It has been boldly asserted that there