Such results, rationally to be anticipated, should certainly impel Christians to pray. The purity, the peace, and the prosperity of Zion are so implicated, that to pray for the abolition of slavery is to pray for these. The power of revivals, the success of home and foreign missions, the operations of tract and Bible societies would be increased immeasurably by the overthrow of slavery, and by the augmented strength this victory would practically give to prayer. The available energies of the American Zion would be multiplied many fold. The Bible would be vindicated, Christianity would have the trophies of the triumph, and God would gain great glory. Oh! then, who among the saints will restrain prayer?—Who will come not up to the help of the Lord against the mighty? Who will incur the bitter curse of Meroz? Rather, who will not bear some part in this faith-struggle at the throne of grace? Who will not share in the rewards which God will bestow on his people, when he comes to avenge them speedily by the overthrow of slavery? What praying circle, what pulpit, what concert or closet, will be found wanting in this crisis? Prayer for the abolition of slavery involves _prayer for the oppressed_. Ungodly men may oppose slavery, and yet have little sympathy for the enslaved; but the Christian can not bear the sin of slavery to the throne of God without bearing thither the wrongs and woes of the oppressed. Moralists may condemn chattelism in the abstract; but they who are moved to pray by the Holy Ghost will “remember them that are in bonds as bound with them.” “_Who are the oppressed?_” we asked at the outset, and answered, The enslaved. Again we ask, Who are the oppressed? Who are these victims of slavery? Who are they that we should pray for them? We answer: They are _men_. They belong to the human family. They are of one blood with ourselves. They have the same rights with us, the same interests, the same desires, the same wants, the same love of liberty, the same sense of right and wrong, the same deathless spirits. The negro in his chains appealingly interrogates us,—“Am I not a man and a brother?” What can the Christian do but own the relationship? Is he indeed a man—a brother? Then does not to him the golden rule apply—“Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you?” _Can_ we exclude them from our prayers?