entire human system, and permeated like oil its very bones, and there produced a sort of moral paralysis. Of ourselves we can do nothing. We are as helpless as a nest of unfledged birds, and like them we should lift our arms in supplication, and open-mouthed cry to our heavenly Father to give us each day our daily bread. Prayer is the second round in our Jacob's ladder. Guard as we may against defilement, we shall never achieve perfection without prayer. It will not do to remove our vices as we do our beards, leaving the roots for a further growth. Our malady is internal, and not to be cured by such outward appliances as alms or fasts, but only by the internal medicine of heartfelt prayer. That is the cordial that fires the soul and sends the blessed heat through the entire man, rendering him malleable as fire does the iron, and making him glow as glowed Christ's face and garb on Thabor. But lip service will not do; our prayers must be mental as well. Prayer purely vocal is like a brief but violent summer shower — it does more harm than good, but prayer that is likewise mental is as the soft but steady drizzle that delights the husbandman and produces abundant fruit. But the chief factor in prayer is the heart. Our minds should not retain but pass along the spiritual pabulum to our wills and hearts. A well-trained beagle will not devour the game, but brings it to his master's feet. So, too, intelligence collects ideas for the heart. True, a toll may be levied by the intellect on what it passes in, but if it confiscate all, the heart will starve. If the nurse not
