shines out our privilege of Christian prayer! How thankfully one remembers the gracious words, "Ye people, pour out your hearts before Him. God is a refuge for us." "This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him." Yet may not we professing Christians learn something from this practice in heathen Japan? Are we as earnest and persevering and expectant in intercession for those living ones we love as these benighted ones, never failing to pour forth this "flowing invocation" for a dead stranger, never doubting that every such supplication passes unfailingly to an unseen God?

How thankfully, too, one remembers that God is no respecter of persons, that money confers no advantage on its possessor in seeking help from God. By no expenditure or device can an earlier answer to prayer be procured by the rich. The rich must become poor in spirit, and the poor must become possessed of the riches of faith. The poverty of spirit and the riches of faith that are required are alike the gift of God to the seeking soul. "Ask, and ye shall receive."

The same traveller tells us: "One Sunday afternoon, at Shingaji, a small procession passed the house; it consisted of a decorated palanquin, carried and followed by Buddhist priests. This contained papers inscribed with names of individuals, and the evils they feared, and the priests were about to cast these papers into the river, whereby, through the mercy of their gods, the dreaded ills would be averted.”

How much more, I thought, should we, whose souls are lighted with wisdom from on high, exercise such definiteness in prayer. How speedy, gracious, and abundant was God's answer of help to one of old, who, in the hour of distress and peril, "went into the house of the Lord, and spread his oppressor's letter before the Lord." He who can truly say, "I poured out my complaint before Him, and showed before Him my trouble," will unfailingly have cause to add, "He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears."

A. J. T.

Little-Faith.

BY THE REV. F. BOURDILLON.

ITTLE-FAITH is very different from great-faith, but it is still more different from no-faith.

Little-faith trembles, but great-faith is firm;

little-faith is agitated, but great-faith is calm; little-faith is afraid, but great-faith is bold; little-faith desponds, but great-faith hopes and trusts.

On the other hand, little-faith cares, but no-faith is unconcerned; little-faith is serious, while no-faith is vain or worldly; little-faith believes, while no-faith believes not; little-faith has some love to God, but no-faith has none; and, if little-faith trembles while no-faith is bold, that is only because no-faith is blind, and does not see the danger and need which little-faith does see.

Little-faith as compared with no-faith is a great blessing. It comes from God. That little-faith of yours-that weak, trembling, desponding, and fearing faith-God Himself gave it you. You did not make it. It is the work of the Holy Spirit. The change from no-faith to little-faith was wrought by Him. Even such faith is an unspeakable blessing, a precious gift of God. Thank Him for it.

Yet be ashamed of it. "What! Be ashamed of what I thank God for ?" Yes. Thank Him for giving you faith, but be ashamed of its being little. It ought not to be. He does not mean it to be. The glory of your having faith is His; the blame and shame of its being only little-faith is yours. Be not content with little-faith. Such things as

this are the only things we ought to be discontented aboutlittle-faith and want of love, and coldness of heart, and so forth-but especially little-faith. We must not settle down in little-faith, congratulating ourselves as having any faith, and in that spirit looking back on the time when we had We must never be content without great-faith. The Lord Jesus once spoke to the little-faithed, and called them by that very name, "O ye of little faith," O ye

none.

little-faithed ones. They were on the water at night in a storm, and the waves were beating into the boat, and He was asleep. Then these men, the disciples, were afraid; their faith was not strong enough to make them believe that no harm could come to them while they were with Him, so they were afraid they should be drowned, and came and awoke Him, and cried, "Lord, save us, we perish "we are perishing !1

What did Jesus do? First He blamed them for their little-faith. He spoke very kindly, but still He blamed them. He said, "Why are ye fearful, O ye of little-faith ?” What faith they had He saw and owned. He did not say, "O ye of no faith;" He did not cast them off from being His disciples because their faith in Him was so small; yet He rebuked them. Could they not trust in Him, waking or sleeping? What could harm them? Was not He with them? What could winds and waves do against Him? And they were with Him, was not that enough? Why were they afraid? Then He called them by that name, “littlefaithed," and the very name showed why they had been afraid; if they had been great-faithed they would not have feared.

He whose eyes are over all-does He not now see many little-faithed ones? When storms arise-storms of trouble or temptation, for instance-are not many afraid who ought to be firm and calm? Does not He see many of His disciples looking at the waves instead of at Him, and trembling lest the next wave should overwhelm them?

At such times let His voice be heard above the storm, "Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith ?" The words were spoken to the disciples, but they are written for us. Thus He speaks to us also.

Why fearful? Well may we stop and ask ourselves the question, even when fears are pressing upon us. Why fearful? Will not one word of prayer bring Him to our help? Nay, is not He near already? Have we not committed ourselves to Him? Have we not embarked our all

1 Matthew viii. 23-27.

with Him? Did we suppose that we should meet with nothing but fine weather? Did we think that all would be smooth? He gave us no reason to think so. We were

warned that there was a cross to bear; that the world would hate us; that the old nature would strive within us; that Satan would seek to devour us; that we must through much tribulation enter into the Kingdom of God. But He told us that He would not leave us comfortless, that He would come to us, and be with us always; that the Holy Spirit should be given to us, and that God, when He sent temptation and trial, would provide an escape also. All this is now happening; this and nothing more. The trial has come, but the help is ready, the presence is with us. Why then so fearful?

"Lord increase our faith!" This should often be our prayer, but especially when troubles press, and faith wavers, and fears prevail. We should not fear if faith were strong. The failing of faith made Peter do more than fear, it made him begin to sink. The very feeling that faith is giving way ought to lead us to cry, "Lord, increase our faith!" At the very moment the cry will be heard and strength will come. Now, if this be so, if help be so near, are we not verily guilty, when we are faithless and fearing? Surely, if the reproof were far sharper, we could not say it was undeserved.

But see in what followed the compassion and kindness of our Lord? There was no real danger, and therefore no need for haste to calm the waves; according to Matthew's account, the reproof was spoken before Jesus rebuked the winds, before He even rose from where He lay. He might therefore have tried the faith of the disciples yet further by letting the storm rage on after He had spoken. Would they show more trust, now that He had spoken to them? Would they put away fear after His reproof? He might have put them to this test. They would have been quite safe if He had.

1 Matthew xiv. 30.

Yes, they would have been safe; but perhaps faith would. still not have been strong enough to assure them of safety. The Lord cared for their comfort, as well as for their being safe. So, in His tender compassion, He tried them no longer by the storm, but taught them a lesson of faith in another way-by making a calm, "a great calm." In a moment, at His word, the wind ceased, the waves sank down, "and there was a great calm." Not only did the storm come to an end, but suddenly that restless sea was much smoother even than usual, calmer, doubtless, than when they embarked. No wonder the men marvelled. But their faith, too, was strengthened. "Even the winds and the sea obey Him!" they cried.

He does not try

The Lord is as compassionate as ever. His disciples too severely. He gently reproves, but He also graciously relieves. Often when we have feared, and in our fear have cried to Him, even before we have overcome our fear, a calm has come. Sometimes, indeed, the calm is within. The storm still rages, but fear is taken away, and the peace of God takes its place. That is one way in which the cry of little-faith is answered. But at other times it is answered, as with the disciples in the boat, by the very things that frightened us being altered; the storm is stilled, events are ordered, circumstances are changed, men's wills are controlled, there is "a great calm." Though no word of command is heard, and no visible miracle is wrought, yet, by the silent exercise of Almighty power, the rough. waters of life are made smooth for us.

When our Lord deals thus with us, let little faith become great faith. Well may we be ashamed of our doubts, when once more our Lord has thus put forth His mighty power and delivered us; but let us learn, from His very grace and power, a lesson of faith never to be forgotten. Are past deliverances to have no effect in future trouble? Is the "great calm" that once was made for us to leave us still as fearful as ever in the next storm? That would be an ill return for the loving-kindness of our Lord. Every storm