After the morning service, Jessie attended the Sabbath school, as was her custom. She was a member of a Bible class of young ladies, and took much interest in its weekly lessons. The subject of the lesson, on this Sabbath, was prayer. The point of inquiry was simply why we ought to pray, the manner in which the duty should be performed being reserved for another lesson. Each member of the class had been requested to note down on a slip of paper such reasons as she could think of for offering prayer to God, and most of them had done so. The teacher called upon one of the younger pupils first, to give a reason for believing prayer is a duty.
“Because God commands it, in the Bible,” replied the girl, and she quoted several texts, in proof of the assertion.
“Yes,” replied the teacher, “God requires it, and I am glad you have given this as the first reason, for it is sufficient to make the duty imperative, if there were no other. Can any of you think of any other texts which inculcate the duty of prayer?”
A number of additional passages from the Bible were repeated, and then another pupil was asked to give a second reason why prayer is a duty.
“Because we are dependent upon God for everything, and it seems proper that we should ask Him to supply our wants, just as a child asks his father for what he wants,” was the reply.
“Very good,” replied the teacher. “Nothing is more natural than that we should pray to God. We cannot take a step, or draw a breath, and our hearts cannot beat for an instant, without Him; and how strange it is that any of us should ever rise up in the morning or lie down at night, without asking Him to preserve us! What should we think of a little child who had a very kind father, and yet never took any notice of him,—never showed any gratitude for his goodness, never asking him for any favor, and never even spoke to him? And yet this is the way in which many people treat their heavenly Father.”
The teacher then called upon another scholar for a reason in favor of prayer, who gave the following:
“We ought to pray, because we are sinners, and need forgiveness.”
“Yes,” resumed the teacher, “that is another good argument for prayer. We are not only dependent upon our heavenly Father for everything we need, but we have rebelled against Him, and we feel that we deserve to be punished. Now if we have not enough gratitude to make us thank Him for the thousands of blessings He bestows, one would suppose that we should fear Him enough to ask Him to forgive our sins, and save us from their consequences. I once asked a boy about a dozen years old, if he ever prayed. He hesitated a moment, as if afraid even to talk about such a thing, and then replied, ‘No, but I used to when I was a little boy.’ ‘Why don’t you pray now?’ I asked. ‘Oh, I left off a good while ago,’ he said. ‘Why did you leave off?’ I inquired. His lips quivered a moment, and then he replied, ‘Because I thought I was too old.’ ‘Too old to pray!’ I exclaimed; ‘why, that is the strangest thing I ever heard of. I thought the older people were, the more they needed to pray. They certainly have more favors to be thankful for, and more sins to be forgiven, as they advance in years; and if that is the case, don’t you think they need to pray more than they did when they were young? When did you stop praying?’ I inquired. He said he could not remember exactly, but he thought it was about two years previous to that time. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘have you received any blessings from God, during these two years?’ He said he had, a great many. ‘And have you committed any sins during that period?’ I continued. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I suppose I sin every day.’ I asked him if he didn’t think he was exposed to more temptations, at that time, than he was two years before. I suppose he had never thought much about that, for he did not give me any decided answer. I told him I thought it was usually the case with the young, that their temptations to do wrong increased very rapidly every year, until they reached maturity; and then I put to him the question, whether, with all these increased blessings, and sins, and temptations, he was not under much greater obligations to pray, at that time, than he was two years before. And what kind of an answer do you suppose he gave me? Why, he said all the boys would laugh at him, if they knew he prayed! I felt almost disheartened, when he said that. Only think of a boy twelve years old giving such a ridiculous excuse as that for treating his Maker with utter neglect! But I did not let him hide himself long behind such a miserable refuge. ‘What,’ said I, ‘is it possible you are ashamed to say any thing to your best Friend, for fear a few thoughtless boys will laugh at you? And is it possible you can make such a confession without hiding your face in shame? Why, it seems to me, if you ever did a thing in this world that you ought to be heartily ashamed of, it was giving up prayer to God. I don’t think any body can do a much meaner thing than that, and instead of being ashamed of praying, I wonder that everybody is not ashamed to live without prayer.’ Then I said it was no matter if the whole world laughed at us—that should not deter us from what we know to be our duty. But I told him I knew ‘all the boys’ would not laugh at him for praying, and that even the few foolish ones who did laugh, would secretly respect him in their hearts for doing his duty. Now, Jessie, can you give us a fourth reason why we ought to pray?”
“We know we ought to pray,” said Jessie, “because our feelings and conscience tell us so. There is a voice within, a sort of instinct, that urges us to pray. This is proved by the fact that even the most degraded heathen offer up prayers to their idols. It is said there never was a nation or religion that did not have some form of prayer. Of course, if prayer is so universal, it must be a dictate of nature.”