The true wakeful life is different from all these. It is a thing of intensity and depth. It carries ever about with it the air of calm and restful dignity ; of inward power and greatness. It is fervent, but not feverish ; energetic, but not excited ; speedy in its doings, but not hasty ; prudent, but not timid or selfish ; resolute and fearless, but not rash ; unobtrusive and sometimes, it may be, silent, yet making all around to feel its influence ; full of joy and peace, yet without parade or noise ; overflowing in tenderness and love, yet, at the same time, faithful and true.
This is the wakeful life ! But oh, before it is thoroughly attained, how much are we sometimes called upon to suffer, through the rebelliousness of a carnal nature, that will not let us surrender ourselves up wholly to God, and present ourselves as- living sacrifices, which is our reasonable service.
In thus arousing us from our slumber, chas-
tisement not merely makes us more energetic,
more laborious, but it makes us far more
prayerful. Perhaps, it is here, that the
11*
126 THE AROUSING.
waking up is most sensibly felt. Nothing so quickens prayer as trial. It sends us, at once, to our knees, and shuts the door of our closet behind us. In the day of prosperity we have many comforts, many refuges to resort to ; in the day of sorrow we have only one, and that is God. Our grief is too deep to tell to any other : it is too heavy for any other to soothe. Now we awrake to prayer. It was something to us before, but now it is all. Man's arm fails, and there is none but God to lean upon.
Our closets, in truth, are the only places of light in a world which has now become doubly dark to us. All without and around is gloom. Clouds overshadow the whole re- gion. Only the closet is bright and calm. How eagerly, how thankfully we betake our- selves to it now. We could spend our whole time in this happy island of light which God has provided for us in the midst of a stormy ocean. When compelled, at times, to leave it, how gladly ,do we return to it ! What peaceful hours of solitude we have there, with God for our one companion ! We can almost forget that the clouds of earth are still above us, and its tempests still noting around us.
Prayer becomes a far more real thing than
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ever. It is prized now as it was never prized before. We cannot do without it. Of neces- sity, as well as of choice, we must pray, and send up our cries from the depths. It becomes a real asking, a real pleading. It is no form now. What new life, new energy, new ear- nestness are poured into each petition ! It is the heart that is now speaking, and the lips cannot find words wherewith to give utterance to its desires. The groanings that " cannot be uttered" are all that now burst forth and ascend up into the ear of God. Formerly, there Avas often the lip without the heart ; now it is far oftener the heart without the lip. Now we know how " the Spirit helpeth our infirmities." We begin to feel what it is to " pray in the Holy Ghost." . There is a new nearness to God. Com- munion with him is far more of a conscious reality now. It is close dealing with a living personal Jehovah. New arguments suggest themselves ; new desires spring up ; new wants disclose themselves. Our own empti- ness and God's manifold fulness are brought before us so vividly that the longings of our inmost souls are kindled, and our heart crieth out for God, for the living God. It was
128 THE AROUSING.
David's sorrows that quickened prayer in him. It was in the belly of the whale that Jonah was taught to cry aloud. And it was among the thorns of the wilderness and (he fetters of Babylon that Manasseh learnt to pray.
Church of Christ, — chosen heritage of the Lord, — awake ! Children of the light and of the day, arise ! The long winter night is nearly over. The day-star is preparing to ascend. " The end of all things is at hand, /" be ye therefore sober and watch unto prayer."* " Why sleep ye ? Rise and pray, lest ye ^\ enter into temptation !"t
* 1 Peter iv. 7. 4 Luke xxii. 4fi.
CHAPTER XI.
THE SOLEMNIZING.
LAUGHTER and gaiety belong to a fallen world. They are too superficial to have place among the holy ; and too hollow to be known among the truly happy. With the peace of God in our hearts we feel that we do not need them. They may do for child- hood ; they may do for the world ; but not for us. They do not suit our feelings ; they are not deep nor solid enough to be in har- mony with our new nature. They are not the utterances of a truly happy soul.