I suppose, if my readers are the children of pious parents, they have been taught from their earliest recollection, to retire, morning and evening, to some secret place, to read their Bible alone, and engage in private prayer. This, in very early childhood, is often an interesting and affecting service. But when young people come to a certain age, if their hearts are not renewed, they are disposed to regard this as an irksome duty, and gradually to leave it off. They find the old adage, in the primer, true,—“Praying will make thee leave sinning, and sinning will make thee leave praying.”

It is a sad period, in the history of a young person, when the early habit of prayer is given up. Then the heart becomes like the garden of the slothful, described by Solomon:—

“I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding; and lo, it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down.”
 
There are no good plants thriving in the prayerless soul; but weeds, and briars, and thorns, grow thick and rank, occupying every vacant spot. The stone wall is broken down: there is no defence against the beasts of the field. Every vagrant thought, every vicious passion, find free admittance. The heart grows hard, and the spirit careless. Sin is not dreaded as it once was. The fear of God and the desire of his favor are gone. “God is not in all his thoughts.” That youth stands on the very edge of a frightful precipice.

I would not have you think, however, that there is any merit in prayer; or that the prayers of one whose “heart is not right with God” are acceptable to him. But, what I say is, that every one ought to pray to God with a right heart. If your heart is not right with God, then it is wrong; and you are to blame for having it wrong. I will suppose a case, to illustrate what I mean. You see a child rise up in the morning, and go about the house; and though its mother is with it all the time, yet the child neither speaks to her nor seems to notice her at all. After a while, the mother asks what is the matter, and why her dear child does not speak to her? The child says, “I have no heart to speak to you, mother. I do not love you; and so I think it would[61] be wrong for me to speak to you.” What would you think of such conduct? You would say, “The child ought to love its mother; and it is only an aggravation of its offence, to carry out the feelings of its heart in its conduct?” “Would you then have it act the hypocrite, and speak with its lips what it does not feel in its heart?” No; but I would have it love its mother, as every dutiful child ought to do, and then act out, in its speech and behavior, what it feels in its heart. But I would never have it excuse itself from right actions because its heart is wrong. Now, apply this to the subject of prayer, and you will see the character of all impenitent excuses for neglecting this duty. And those who go on and continue to neglec............