JANUARY 23.
"Knock, and it shall be opened unto you." LUKE 11 :9.
IT is needless to prove that by this action our Saviour intends prayer. But see the simplicity and familiarity of his comparisons, and wonder not that the common people heard him gladly. Volumes have been written upon the subject of prayer ; but he who spake as never man spake, compares every thing in one word---knock. The allusion is to a person who wishes to excite attention, in order to obtain relief he knocks.
Where are we to knock? "I am," says the Saviour, "the door." "I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father, but by me."
When are we to knock? "Evening and morning and at noon," says David, "will I pray and cry aloud." "pray without ceasing," says Paul. And says our Lord, "Men ought always to pray, and not to faint."
For what are we to knock? We may in every thing by prayer and supplication make known our requests unto God. But we are supremely to implore all spiritual blessings, because these are blessings for the soul and eternity. Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness.
How are we to knock? Importunately; we cannot knock too loud. Prayer is nothing unless it be sincere and earnest. God will not regard the address we ourselves do not feel. Jacob said, "I will not let thee go, except thou bless me ;" and he prevailed. How? Perseveringly. The Lord does not always immediately appear to our joy. I waited patiently for the Lord," says David ; "and," at last, "he inclined his ear unto me, and heard my cry." And " blessed," it is said, "are all they that wait for him." But though it be a good thing for a man not only to hope, but quietly wait for the salvation of God, it is often no easy thing. The delay is trying in itself, but circumstances may render it more so. While standing at the door, the weather may be foul; or those passing by may laugh and insult, for they are full and have need of nothing ; or the applicant may be weak, and ready to faint. And what, while thus exercised, can keep him knocking and waiting? Nothing but a sense of his wants. They are so pressing, that he must succeed, or perish. Nothing but hope. This hope may be sometimes very weak. But a degree of it, if it only amounts to a mere possibility, is necessary to preserve him from abandoning his suit, and saying, "What should I wait for the Lord any longer?" More, however, is desirable and attainable ; and here is enough to say to him, " Wait on the Lord ; be of good courage, and lie shall strengthen thy heart : wait, I say, on the Lord." Here is the command, "knock." Here is the promise, "it shall be, opened."
But how shall I plead ? I knock, and long for audience ; and yet I draw back, and seem afraid to be seen. For what can I say? What does the BEGGAR say? He is not at a loss. He knows a fine address is not necessary, it would be contemned. Yet he can express his meaning, and his wants and feelings make him eloquent. Begin, then, and say,
"Encouraged by thy word
Of promise to the poor,
Behold, a beggar, Lord,
Waits at thy mercy's door.
No hand, no heart, 0 Lard, but thine
Can help or pity wants like mine."
Yet add,
"The beggar's usual plea,
Relief from men to gain,
If offered unto thee,
I know thou wouldst disdain;
And pleas which move thy gracious ear,
Are such as men would scorn to hear."
There are five of these pleas urged by others, which you must completely reverse.
How often does the beggar plead his former condition. "He has seen better days ; and once had a sufficiency for himself and others." But this must be your language:
"I have no right to say,
That though I now am poor,
Yet once there was a day
When I possessed more
Thou knowest that from my very birth
I 've been the poorest wretch on earth."
How often does the beggar plead his innocency or goodness. "1 have been reduced, not by my fault, but by misfortune ; and deserve pity rather than censure." But your language must be,
Nor can I dare profess,
As beggars often do,
Though great is my distress,
My faults have been but few ;
If thou should'st leave my soul to starve,
It would be what I well deserve."
How often does the beggar plead the unusualness of his application. This is not my practice; it is the first, and shall be the last time of my importuning you." But your language must be,
"T were folly to pretend
I never begged before;
Or, if thou now befriend,
I'll trouble thee no more:
Thou often hast relieved my pain,
And often I must come again."
How often does the beggar plead the smallness of the boon. " A very little will suffice me; I ask only a trifle." But your language must be,
"Though crumbs are much too good
For such a dog as I,
No less than children's food
My sour can satisfy.
0 do not frown and bid me go,
I must have all thou canst bestow."
Men, so limited are their resources, are afraid of more applications than they can relieve ; and therefore enjoin the petitioner secrecy, and he promises concealment. But your language must be,
" Nor can I willing be
Thy bounty to conceal
From others who, like me,
Their wants and hunger feel
I'll tell them of thy mercies' store,
And try to send a thousand more."
And he will be delighted with this. He commands you to spread his goodness, and to invite all the ends of the earth.
"Thy thoughts, thou only wise,
Our thoughts and ways transcend,
Far as the arched skies
Above the earth extend
Such pleas as mine men would not hear;
But God receives a beggar's prayer."
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