mere petition; but even
that, I think, is set on its right footing as soon as we grasp the true
conception of the ideal father. Do you mean to say that, because your
father's rules were unwavering and his day's work marked out beforehand,
he did not like you to come to him when you were a little child,
with all your wishes and longings and requests, even though they were
sometimes childish and often impossible to gratify? Would he have been
better pleased if you had shut up everything in your own heart, and
never of your own accord told him anything about your babyish plans and
wants?"

"Still, prayer seems to me a waste of time," said Erica.

"What! If it brings you a talk with your Father? If it is a relief to
you and a pleasure because a sign of trust and love to Him? But in one
way I entirely agree with you, unless it is spontaneous it is not only
useless but harmful. Imagine a child forced to talk to its father. And
this seems to me the truest defense of prayer; to the 'natural man'
it always will seem foolishness, to the 'spiritual man' to one who has
recognized the All-Father it is the absolute necessity of life. And
I think by degrees one passes from eager petition for personal and
physical good things into the truer and more Christlike spirit of
prayer. 'These are my fears, these are my wishes, but not my will but
Thine be done.' Shakespeare had got hold of a grand truth, it seems to
me, when he said:

"'So find we profit by losing of our prayers.'"

"And yet your ideal man distinctly said: 'Ask and ye shall receive'"
said Erica. "There are no limitations. For aught we know, some
pig-headed fanatic may be at this moment praying that God in His mercy
would rid the earth of that most dangerous man, Luke Raeburn; while
I might be of course I am not, but it is conceivable that I might be
praying for his safety. Both of us might claim the same promise, 'Ask
and ye shall receive.'"

"You forget one thing," said Charles Osmond. "You would both pray to the
Father, and His answer which you, by the way, might consider no answer
would be the answer of a father. Do you not think the fanatic
would certainly find profit in having his most unbrotherly request
disregarded? And the true loss or gain of prayer would surely be in
this: The fanatic would, by his un-Christlike request, put himself
further from God; you, by your spontaneous and natural avowal of need
and recognition of a Supreme loving will, would draw nearer