In every dubious question, when the foot is trembling on debatable ground, knowing not whether to advance or recede, make this the final criterion, "What saith the Scripture?" The world may remonstrate--erring friends may disapprove--Satan may tempt--ingenious arguments may explain away; but, with our finger on the revealed page, let the words of our Great Example be ever a Divine formula for our guidance:--"_This_ commandment have I received of my Father!" "ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND." Ninth Day. PRAYERFULNESS. "He continued all night in prayer to God."--Luke, vi. 12. We speak of _this_ Christian and _that_ Christian as "a man of prayer." Jesus was emphatically so. The Spirit was "poured upon Him without measure," yet--_He prayed_! He was incarnate wisdom, "needing not that any should teach Him." He was infinite in His power, and boundless in His resources, yet--_He prayed_! How deeply sacred the prayerful memories that hover around the solitudes of Olivet and the shores of Tiberias! He seemed often to turn night into day to redeem moments for prayer, rather than lose the blessed privilege. We are rarely, indeed, admitted into the solemnities of His inner life. The veil of night is generally between us and the Great High Priest, when He entered "the holiest of all;" but we have enough to reveal the depth and fervor, the tenderness and confidingness of this blissful intercommunion with His heavenly Father. No morning dawns without His fetching fresh manna from the mercy-seat. "He wakeneth morning by morning; He wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned." (Isa. l. 4). Beautiful description!--a praying Redeemer, wakening, as if at early dawn, the ear of His Father, to get fresh supplies for the duties and the trials of the day! All His public acts were consecrated by prayer,--His baptism, His transfiguration, His miracles, His agony, His death. He breathed away His spirit in prayer. "His last breath," says Philip Henry, "was praying breath." How sweet to think, in holding communion with God--_Jesus_ drank of this very brook! He consecrated the bended knee and the silent chamber. He refreshed His fainting spirit at the same great Fountain-head from which it is life for us to draw and death to forsake. Reader! do you complain of your languid spirit, your drooping faith, your fitful affections, your lukewarm love? May you not trace much of what you deplore to an unfrequented chamber? The treasures are locked up from you, because you have suffered the key to rust; the hands hang down because they have ceased to be uplifted in prayer. Without prayer!--It is the pilgrim without a staff--the seaman without a compass--the soldier going unarmed and unharnessed to battle.