as a direction to prayer. We will not attempt, beforehand, to specify these truths, but rather leave them to open successively as we prosecute our examination. Let us only ask rain of the Lord, let us only entreat the aids and teachings of his Spirit, without which we may not hope to enter thoroughly into the meaning of Scripture, and it may, indeed, be for our profit that we study the direction, "Ask ye of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain ;" and that we hearken to the promise, "The Lord shall make bright clouds, and give them showers of rain, to every one grass in the field."

Now we shall begin with looking at the direction as having to do literally with the rain, with those showers which descend in due season to water the earth, "that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater." Alas, how difficult is it to keep God in mind as the great First Cause, when there is a mechanism of second causes through which he is pleased to conduct his operations and communicate blessings! If things ordinarily occur in a settled course, we speedily forget that this course is, after all, but the law which God is pleased to prescribe to himself, to be followed only while it shall seem good to his infinite wisdom, and swerved from whensoever he shall think fit to suspend his own laws. If, for example, there be a time of the year at which rain is accustomed to fall, how readily do we expect rain at that time, just as though there were a certain set of causes, which, working always, and with unvarying regularity, would be sure, at corresponding seasons, to produce corresponding results. Men seem practically to have but little remembrance, that the mainspring of all the mechanism is in the hands of an invisible Creator; that it is not from what goes on in the hidden laboratories of what they call nature that season succeeds season, and shower and sunshine alternate with so much of beautiful and beneficent order, but that the whole arrangement is momentarily dependant on the will and energy of that supreme Being who "sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers." It is needful, we might almost say, that God should occasionally interrupt the ordinary course of things, that he should suspend the laws which

he has been pleased to impress on the natural world, if only that he may keep himself from being forgotten, and compel some recognition of his all-pervading influence from those who actually "live in him, and move, and have their being."

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But whilst there is this known proneness amongst us to the substituting second causes for the first, whilst we are confessedly so ready to look to the laws and the mechanism of nature, to do for us what can be done only by the direct and immediate agency of God, how important, how instructive, such an injunction as this; "Ask ye of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain!" You are to lay the emphasis on its being the time of the latter rain," the season, that is, at which rain might be commonly expected; at which year after year, it had been accustomed to fall, and at which, therefore, a boastful, or rather an infidel philosophy, might have argued that it would continue to fall, in obedience to fixed and immutable laws. If, from some cause or another, there should be want of rain at seasons when it was not usually wanted, when it was not the time for either "the former rain" or "the latter," perhaps this boastful philosophy itself would allow that there was place or occasion for prayer. We do not, indeed, mean that the philosophy would necessarily assent to the possible usefulness of prayer in the supposed emergence: it is far more likely that it would entrench itself within its maxims as to the fixedness of nature's laws, and the consequent vanity of any expectation that these laws would be interfered with in order to the meeting our wishes or wants. But, at least, philosophy would here confess, that if the rain fell at all, it would fall not through the working of mere second causes; and that, therefore, though prayer must be practically worthless, as pleading against a firmly-settled ordinance, it was still so far in place as that only the Being, to whom it was addressed, had power to give rain at so unwonted a time. If, however, it be actually "the time of the latter rain," then will a prayer for rain appear to this philosophy utterly unreasonable or preposterous, as if we were not content to leave natural causes to work out their invariable effects; or as if we wanted to make a parade of the power and efficacy of prayer, i

But God, on the contrary, says: "Ask ye rain in the time of the latter rain." Oh, what a lesson to us that we reckon not, so to speak, on the seasons; that we presume not to expect any good merely because the time is come round at which, in the ordinary course of his dealings, God has been used to bestow that good. A blessing may have been long and regularly communicated; but we are not to count on the regularity of the communication, as though it proved some immutable law, which must continue to work out the accustomed result: it may be “the time of the latter rain;" the experience of a lengthened course of years may warrant the expectation of rain; and the clouds on the firmament may seem big with the usual supply -but God has yet to issue his command; God has yet to unseal the fountain; and therefore there is still place for prayer, there is still need for prayer: it is "the time of the latter rain," but, on that very account, it is the time also for the asking of rain. To ask it at another time might be asking a miracle, a departure from God's ordinary course, and we cannot be said to have warrant for that. But to ask it at this time, is to ask what we know is according to God's will; and "this," saith St. John, "is the confidence that we have in him, that if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us."

Beware, then, of taking for granted that mercies will continue to descend in the order, and at the times, which may have long been observed: there is no such likely way of stopping the supply, as the failing to recognize that the fountain is with God. God describes himself as "a jealous God;" and it must move him to jealousy, whensoever, in any degree, we substitute his instruments for himself, or look to the channel as if it were the spring. The long continuance of a mercy at a particular season may indeed be said to involve a kind of promise-for God has so constituted us that we naturally expect what we have often experienced; and a divine promise is not only that which is registered in the divine word, but that also which is conveyed through the moral constitution received at G hands. But let it be

ask, should itself be our great reason for asking. God's promises are the warrants for man's prayers. What God has promised, may be asked for in the perfect confidence "that it is according to his will:" and since the promises are conditional, their fulfillment being made dependent on our seeking, or inquiring for, the covenanted blessings, we may not only be encouraged in our prayers by God's promises, but ought in no degree to reckon on promises, except as we make them foundations for prayers. God may be said to have promised rain "in the time of the latter rain:" but just because it is a time at which rain has been promised, therefore it is a time at which prayer should be made.

And so with every mercy. The recurrence of the time at which God has been used to bestow it, should not make you expect to receive it again without asking, but should make you ask in the full confidence of receiving. The sabbath, for example, is a "time of the latter rain :" rain is then used to fall-God's Spirit descends in gracious showers for the refreshment of the church. The time of the administation of christian ordinances is a "time of the latter rain," God commonly using the preaching of his word and the dispensing of his sacraments, to the conveyance of grace to his waiting people. But because these are times "of the latter rain," shall they not also be times for the praying for rain? Oh, never ought your prayers to be so fervent or importunate. You are, as it were, on the top of Carmel; you see the cloud rising out of the sea; but you must not take for granted that there will be "abundance of rain :" God may command the cloud back into the sea, yea, he may be expected to do this, if you do not wrestle with him in prayer. Therefore, on the Sabbath morn, because it is the Sabbath morn, the morning of grace, redouble your prayers for grace; on sacramental opportunities, because they are God's chosen occasions of imparting his Spirit, cry more earnestly than ever for that Spirit. Think not that the favorableness of the season can make the necessity for prayer less, whereas it does but make the encouragement to prayer greater. Substitute not the means of grace for grace, as

though, when the former were vouchsafed, the latter would be sure to follow; ah, there may be the clouds and not the showers; and, therefore, remember ye the precept of our text, and "ask ye of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain."

Now we have thus endeavored to show you that the circumstance of its being "a time of rain "-whether the natural rain or the spiritual-so far from furnishing a reason why we should not ask for rain, is itself the great argument for our asking; inasmuch as it proves that we have God's promise on our side, and the promise of God is always the warrant, but never the substitute for the prayer of man. But all that has preceded would have been equally appropriate, had the former rain," not "the latter," been specified in the text: we have simply spoken of the time as being "a time of rain ;" a time at which it is God's ordinary course to communicate a blessing; and we have warned you against expecting that blessing, without asking for it; we have endeavored to prove to you, that your reason for expecting should be your reason also for asking.

Let us not, however, pass without comment the mention of "the latter rain:" when the reference of the prophet is supposed to be to spiritual rain, there are special truths to be gathered from his speaking of "the latter rain" rather than of "the former." We have explained to you that "the latter rain" was that which fell in the spring, and which was instrumental to the bringing the corn into the ear, and filling it; so that, if this rain failed, the husbandman would be disappointed of his harvest, notwithstanding all his previous industry, skill, and anxiety. He was indeed dependent also on "the former rain," that which fell at the seed-time; for the grain would not germinate, and send up the tender shoot, unless the ground were watered by the fertilizing showers. But there would be a yet more bitter disappointment, for there would be the utter loss of much labor, the fruitless expenditure of much effort and hope, if the latter rain" were withheld; and consequently, there was even greater reason for his asking rain in "the time of the latter rain" than in that of "the former :" if "the former

rain" were withheld, he might make some other use of his capital and enterprise; but if "the latter," his disaster scarce admitted of repair.

Now without endeavoring to trace too narrowly the parallel to this in spiritual things, we may safely say that there is something very affecting and admonitory in the mention of "the latter rain." It is the rain needed for filling the ear, and fitting it for the sickle. Take it metaphorically, and it is the grace needed for ripening the believer, and fitting him for heaven. The former rain may be considered that which fell upon him at his baptism, or, perhaps more accurately, at his conversion, when he set himself, according to the directions of the prophet, to "break up his fallow ground, and sow to himself in righteousness.' And he has been enabled, through the continued influences of the Spirit of God, to bring forth "first the blade, and then the ear," advancing in the christian life, and adorning the doctrine of the Savior, But oh, there is now a danger of his falling into security, of his reckoning too confidently on the harvest, of his concluding that God will certainly complete a work so auspiciously begun, so happily carried on, and that he himself can have nothing to do but leave God to "perfect that which concerneth" him. True, indeed, it is God alone who can complete what God alone commenced; and true also it is, that God is not willing to leave his work unfinished. But he may withhold "the latter rain," after having given "the former," if he see the husbandman presuming on a promise, in place of persevering in prayer. He does not leave the husbandman to ripen the corn, just as he did not require of him to make the seed shoot; for there is not a single stage in the great process of spiritual renewal, at which it is ought else but God's grace, which, acting on the heart, brings out features of the image which sin fearfully defaced. But whilst it is not with the husbandman, but with God, to ripen the corn, God may make his ripening it depend on the exercise of faith, and the importunity of prayer. He may give "the latter rain," if the husbandman, conscious of his dependence upon God for the harvest, continue meekly to supplicate the necessary showers: he may withhold that