As to prayer and praise.

Christians believe that God is just, that He is all-wise and all-knowing.

If God is just, will He not do justice without being entreated of men?

If God is all wise, and knows all that happens, will He not know what is for man's good better than man can tell Him?

If He knows better than Man knows what is best for man, and if He is a just God and a loving Father, will He not do right without any advice or reminder from Man?

If He is a just God, will He give us less than justice unless we pray to Him; or will He give us more than justice because we importune Him?

To ask God for His love, or for His grace, or for any worldly benefit seems to me unreasonable.

If God knows we need His grace, or if He knows we need some help or benefit, He will give it to us if we deserve it. If we do not deserve it, or do not need what we ask for, it would not be just nor wise of Him to grant our prayer.

To pray to God is to insult Him. What would a man think if his children knelt and begged for his love or for their daily bread? He would think his children showed a very low conception of their father's sense of duty and affection.

Then Christians think God answers prayer. How can they think that?

In the many massacres, and famines, and pestilences has God answered prayer? As we learn more and more of the laws of Nature we put less and less reliance on the effect of prayer.

When fever broke out, men used to run to the priest: now they run to the doctor. In old times when plague struck a city, the priests marched through the streets bearing the Host, and the people knelt to pray; now the authorities serve out soap and medicine and look sharply to the drains.

And yet there still remains a superstitious belief in prayer, and most surprising are some of its manifestations.

For instance, I went recently to see Wilson Barrett in The Silver King. Wilfred Denver, a drunken gambler, follows a rival to kill him. He does not kill him, but he thinks he has killed him. He flies from justice.

Now this man Denver leaves London by a fast train for Liverpool. Between London and Rugby he jumps out of the train, and, after limping many miles, goes to an inn, orders dinner and a private room, and asks for the evening paper.

While he waits for the paper he kneels down and prays to God, for the sake of wife and children, to allow him to escape.

And, directly after, in comes a girl with a paper, and Denver reads how the train he rode in caught fire, and how all the passengers in the first three coaches were burnt to cinders.

Down goes Denver on his knees, and thanks God for listening to his prayer.

And not a soul in the audience laughed. God, to allow a murderer to escape from the law, has burnt to death a lot of innocent passengers, and Wilfred Denver is piously grateful. And nobody laughed!

But Christians tell us they know that prayer is efficacious. And to them it may be so in some measure. Perhaps, if a man pray for strength to resist temptation, or for guidance in time of perplexity, and if he have faith, his prayer shall avail him something.

Why? Not because God will hear, or answer, but for two natural reasons.

First, the act of prayer is emotional, and so calms the man who prays, for much of his excitement is worked off. It is so when a sick man groans: it eases his pain. It is so when a woman weeps: it relieves her overcharged heart.

Secondly, the act of prayer gives courage or confidence, in proportion to the faith of him that prays. If a man has to cross a deep ravine by a narrow plank, and if his heart fail him, and he prays for God's help, believing that he will get it, he will walk his plank with more confidence. If he prays for help against a temptation, he is really appealing to his own better nature; he is rousing up his dormant faculty of resistance and desire for righteousness, and so rises from his knees in a sweeter and calmer frame of mind.

For myself, I never pray, and never feel the need of prayer. And though I admit, as above, that it may have some present advantage, yet I am inclined to think that it is bought too dearly at the price of a decrease in our self-reliance. I do not think it is good for a man to be always asking for help, for benefits, or for pardon. It seems to me that such a habit must tend to weaken character.

"He prayeth best who loveth best all things both great and small." It is better to work for the general good, to help our weak or friendless fellow-creatures, than to pray for our own grace, or benefit, or pardon. Work is nobler than prayer, and far more dignified.

And as to praise, I cannot imagine the Creator of the Universe wanting men's praise. Does a wise man prize the praise of fools? Does a strong man value the praise of the weak? Does any man of wisdom and power care for the applause of his inferiors? We make God into a puny man, a man full of vanity and "love of approbation," when we confer on Him the impertinence of our prayers and our adoration.

While there is so much grief and misery and unmerited and avoidable suffering in the world, it is pitiful to see the Christian millions squander such a wealth of time and energy and money on praise and prayer.

If you were a human father, would you rather your children praised you and neglected each other, or that brother should stand by brother and sister cherish sister? Then "how much more your Father which is in Heaven?"

Twelve millions of our British people on the brink of starvation! In Christian England hundreds of thousands of thieves, knaves, idlers, drunkards, cowards, and harlots; and fortunes spent on churches and the praise of God.

If the Bible had not habituated us to the idea of a barbarous God who was always ravenous for praise and sacrifice, we could not tolerate the mockery of "Divine Service" by well-fed and respectable Christians in the midst of untaught ignorance, unchecked roguery, unbridled vice, and the degradation and defilement and ruin of weak women and little children. Seven thousand pounds to repair a chapel to the praise and glory of God, and under its very walls you may buy a woman's soul for a few pieces of silver.

I cannot imagine a God who would countenance such a religion. I cannot understand why Christians are not ashamed of it. To me the national affectation of piety and holiness resembles a white shirt put on over a dirty skin.