_ CHAPTER XXIV
"Not till the soul acts with all its strength, strains its every faculty, does prayer begin."--Frances Power Cobbe.
"I have always thought a great deal on the subject of prayer," said Mr. Hayden, drawing his chair up closer and bending over to look at his listeners, Grace and Kate, who had called to get the letter which had just been read, "and it appears to me," he continued, "that subject has been misunderstood."
"Well?" interrogated Grace.
"Well, we have always been taught to pray to a God who could be informed of our wants and needs, and be induced to change His mind about the method of dealing with them, or be softened in His judgments concerning His children. Now if God is all-wise and all-powerful, why need we so carefully instruct Him? If He is all Love why need we ask Him with piteous tears to bless our sick and afflicted? If He is everywhere present, and no respecter of persons, why need we ask Him to do for one more than for another? As God is omniscient, is He not all the knowledge there is?"
"The great mistake has been to regard Deity as Person, instead of Principle," said Grace, as he paused a moment.
"As God is changeless and eternal, the essence of Love and Life," he went on, not heeding the interruption, "how can it be otherwise than that we have an influx of this divine Life into ourselves as we acknowledge its eternal and omnipresent existence, realizing the truth of what we say?"
"There the trouble has been," said Kate, taking up his thought, "that we have not realized the divine Presence which we call Truth, because we have not acknowledged it."
"That is exactly the reason, and it needs a constant acknowledgment of the Good to keep us from admitting false beliefs that beset us because of an acknowledgment of the opposite of the Good."
"What then is your idea of the true method of prayer?" asked Kate, much interested.
"More of thanksgiving, as Mrs. Pearl teaches. I like her comparison to the servant and prince. We can not dwell too much on the thought that God is always giving us blessings. They are here, have been from the beginning of all knowledge, and our part is to take them. I often think of that comparison between the earthly and the heavenly Father, given by Jesus, when he said: 'If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven, give good things to them that ask Him?' Here is Mabel, for instance. Passionately fond of flowers as she is, suppose some day I should bring her a rare bouquet from the florist's, and with a smile hold them out to her, saying: 'Here Mabel, are some roses for you!' How would I feel if she came with the most pathetic expression of longing and misery in her face, and dropping down on her knees, should beg me to give her one flower? But instead, like a true child that knows the father love, she would fly to take the beautiful gift and say, 'Oh, thank you, papa!' as she gives me a rapturous kiss, then runs for a vase to hold her treasures."
"Indeed, that is like the true child we all should become, and give thanks for the beautiful gifts of God," said Kate, softly, as if to herself.
"What do you think of the Lord's prayer as it was revealed to the lady?" asked Grace, to whom this part of the letter seemed a little hard to understand.
"I think her revelation far exceeds mine, but I have enough to know that it is as she says: 'We must finally get the inner meaning, but I would uncover the spiritual ideas by clothing them in more spiritual language.'
"It would be a great help if you would interpret it for us," said Kate, moving her chair closer in her eagerness to hear.
"Wait a moment," said Mr. Hayden, as he went for the Bible. "I don't know very well how to word it, but the thought came to me this morning, and became much plainer after I had read the letter."
He read the Lord's Prayer, then gave his conception of the spiritual meaning.
"All-pervading Father-Mother Spirit, which art in all harmony, revered and holy is Thy name. Thy peace and love and righteousness is conceived and realized amid earthly environments as it is in the highest state of harmony.
"Give to us each day the hidden manna, the living word that sustains us, and give us the truth for error as we in our divine likeness to Thee, give truth for error to those who err against us.
"Leave or let us not in temptation, but preserve us from all thoughts that would dishonor Thee, for Thine
is the kingdom and power and glory forever."
"That is wonderful. Oh, how beautiful it all is," exclaimed Kate with much feeling.
"Isn't it?" added Grace, "and quite in accord with the passage quoted by Mrs. Hayden,'what things soever ye desire, that--'"
"Same principle, recognizing the omnipresence of all things good, and acknowledging the gift as already given," interrupted Mr. Hayden, shutting his book and rising to put it away.
"How would you construe the passage where it says, 'with prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God?'" asked Kate.
"Oh, but you have not quoted it all: 'With prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving let your requests be made known,'" replied Mr. Hayden, smiling. "It means, continue to ask, and expect to receive and give thanks, not only by word, but by proper use of what you already have. 'If ye continue in my word,' was the condition, so it must be that we continue to ask and give thanks, even if our petition is not visibly answered at once."
Mr. Hayden had some advantage in his study over the girls, for these things had been more or less considered by himself and Mrs. Hayden ever since her recovery, and it was no wonder he could explain so readily.
"After all, how would you apply this way of praying to giving treatments?" asked Grace. "I am anxious for the practical application."
"Why, it is all practical, as far as the individual is concerned, but the application to others we have yet to learn, though I imagine it is the same. It is simply being negative to false conditions, thus putting them off, and affirmative to true conditions, absorbing them as the flower does the light and heat."
"Well, it is a beautiful idea of prayer at any rate," remarked Grace.
They soon went home, still discussing and deeply pondering the subject.
* * * * *
"Grace, what do you suppose I did to-day?" cried Kate, breathlessly, as she rushed in the next evening.
"Can't imagine, unless you cured little Tim, the newsboy," laughed Grace, making her guess extravagant enough.
"No, but really, I treated Fannie for a dreadful headache. Of course I said nothing to her, but she was stumbling so over her music, I asked her what was the matter, and when she told me I treated her. In just a few moments she brightened up and said she felt better, and before we got through it was all gone. Wasn't that delightful?"
"Very, and I am so glad. How did you do it?"
"Well, I can hardly tell, but the talk we had yesterday with Mr. Hayden gave me a clearer idea than I had before, and I just denied the headache and acknowledged the truth that she was spiritually well; then waited a few moments and gave thanks that it was so."
"How glad we ought to be for the privilege of reading Mrs. Hayden's letters," said Grace, thoughtfully, as she smoothed her hair and washed her hands.
"Yes, and what a goose I was about it," Kate replied. "I would scarcely take the chance when it was offered, and if it had been any one but Mrs. Hayden, I do believe I should have refused point blank."
"We know so little what is right when we judge in the old way," said Grace. "Now, if I actually hadn't seen that woman cured, and known positively how she was before, nothing would have induced me to spend my time on this, although, from the first, I rather liked the theory."
"Where is my gingham apron?" called Kate, looking in the dark closet where she had hung it.
"Kate, I'm thoroughly reformed, as you will know when I tell you I am perfectly willing to perform the culinary duties to-night, and I will be the cook while you discourse some music for my edification," laughed Grace, as she emerged from the studio with her sleeves rolled back, and the lost apron pinned around her.
"What!" cried Kate, holding up both hands with a mock-tragic air. "Do you really mean it?"
"Of course, and I will show you what a talent I have for poaching eggs and making toast."
The girls were in the habit of dividing their work according to their personal tastes. Kate liked to prepare dainty meals and wash dishes, while Grace preferred to sweep and dust, and arrange things to suit her artistic eye. Each disliked the other's part of the work, so they were well content to have it so divided.
"Go on, now," ordered Grace, "and play for me. I want some music; but, first of all, tell me where the eggs are, and how long should they boil?"
"The eggs are in the tin pail on the third shelf in the closet. They should boil till they are a pretty blue white."
"Very well, now I can dispense with your company."
Kate laughed merrily, and sitting down to the piano, played till Grace called her out to dine.
"It seems rather nice to come home and play lady," she remarked, as she went out where Grace was.
"Well, really, Kate, I was thinking this afternoon that there is not so much difference in the kinds of work as there is in the thoughts you have when you work, and I resolved, that to refrain from certain duties because one does not like them is selfish, and makes a person one-sided. Then I could see no reason why I should dislike to cook, and concluded to try it."
"I believe you are right about the one-sidedness," said Kate, soberly.
"I do want to grow into a rounded character, and am just realizing the necessity of doing things that lie nearest us, whether it is washing dishes, painting or scrubbing. If I get so I can think right about things I'm sure I shall like them."
"That is true. I have already noticed a vast difference in my patience in giving lessons. You know some days I would be so nervous and get so exasperated with Fannie Thornton and Jenny Miles, I didn't know what to do with myself, but the last few days I have not minded them at all, in fact I got along better with Fannie than ever before, and it was just because I kept from thinking she was contrary and stupid."
"Well, that is a practical application of your lesson. I think we ought to apply it to everything we do," replied Grace.
"One of the chief beauties of this Christianity is that it goes into every thought and action," said Kate, thoughtfully, adjusting her hair.
"Oh!" she added a moment later, "I forgot to give you the letter that came to-day." She pulled it out of her pocket all crumpled and gave it to Grace, who glanced at her name on the envelope and then grew white about the mouth as she hastily put it into her pocket, remarking in an ordinary tone, "It will keep a little longer."
Little was said by either for some time. Grace was preoccupied and Kate furtively watched her face, for this was an unaccountable procedure, although occasionally Grace had been affected the same way before.
She insisted on washing the dishes, and was glad indeed that she had it to do, while Kate poured her thoughts into music, feeling that she could best show sympathy for her friend by this, to her, most expressive way.
As for Grace, she waited till she had quite finished her work and then sat down to read the letter. She well knew it was from Leon Carrington, a suitor, whom she had rejected on the plea that she wished to be wedded solely to her art. Pride had forbidden her being frank enough to tell him the real reason, caused by an impeachment made against his character, by one whom she implicitly trusted as a friend. Her bitter resolve was the result, and while it was true she loved and desired to spend her life in pursuing her art, she had compelled herself to think she loved it best, and so told him it was first choice.
Hers was a proud, deep nature, and rather than admit that she had loved or could love one whom she considered unworthy, she cut the matter short by a decided rejection. It had cost her a mighty effort to come to this decision, and when she came out of the trial, she had lost her faith in all men.
On all other points but this, Grace was sound and sweet in her general disposition, but any talk on marriage she would never tolerate even with Kate.
This was the third letter he had written in the two years since he went away, and as in the preceding, he fervently begged her to reconsider. _