about them
it will be worth while to individualize your prayer, however briefly.
Special, detailed prayer _is_ a power with God. And it is a power with
man too. To be dealing with one for whom you know you have prayed is
already to have a foothold there. Perhaps you may have an opportunity to
_say_, quite naturally, that you have been praying for him; and this may
very possibly be a direct vehicle of blessing.

You will go out then, as directly as possible, from the secret place of
heavenly intercourse. That is a bracing atmosphere:

"Fresh airs and heavenly odours breathe around
The throne of grace;"

and those airs can quicken the young Pastor's spirit for the heaviest
hours of a sultry afternoon or evening, till he comes back weary to his
rooms, "tired in the Lord's work, but not tired of it," as dying
Whitefield said.

So you go forth with real prayer. It is your wonderful privilege, thus
going to carry nothing less than the blessed "Fulness of the Holy Ghost"
for your inmost equipment. I say deliberately, nothing less than the
heavenly Fulness--a far different thing from a mere stir and lift of the
emotions. That most divine gift is a "calm excess" of tranquil power,
received humbly by the prayer of faith. It is not meant to be a rare
luxury; it is a daily and hourly offer, a provided _viaticum_ for every
stage of walk and duty. Can we work aright for God while any corner of
our being has no room for God, and is not possessed by Him?

METHOD.

Then, for true prayer and true practicality are the closest and most
harmonious friends, you will of course aim with forethought and
persistency at _method_ in the pastoral work. The visits will be
arranged as far as possible with economy of _space_; no difficult task
in most town parishes, while in the country, of course, the matter is
often much less easy. And you will study also economy of _time_. Your
round is a work of sacred _business_. The minutes, the quarters of an
hour, are never to run loose and unobserved. Who that has ever visited
in a parish does not know the need of remembering that point, so easily
forgotten? Here we visit a pleasant, welcoming neighbour, and it is all
too easy to stay on, perhaps to little real purpose, with the secret
satisfaction of knowing that the next and much less attractive call must
be shortened in proportion. Here, less willingly, we are detained by
one of those ingenious tongues which make it so difficult to g