The eleven disciples-alas! the twelfth is missing!-have, as we saw, just come in from the Mount of Olives, that part which overlooks Bethany. Their eyes are red with weeping and earnest looking. Their hearts palpitate with strong excitement. They have had a tender parting interview with their Lord. They have heard from His lips a great command and a great promise. They have seen Him ascend; they have gazed after Him, and, with strained vision, taken their farewell look as the cloud "received Him out of their sight." For their prolonged looking they have been gently rebuked by messengers from heaven, and assured that their departed Friend should come again according to His promise. Since they came in, they have related the facts with as much of order and minuteness as their agitation would permit. All are affected with a profound interest. There is much that they do not understand, and many questions are asked. They remember intimations of future developments; but their faith has never half embraced them. When their Master died, and was sleeping in the tomb, they gave up all as lost. They had thought that He was the promised One "who should have redeemed Israel;" but His death had darkened that prospect. When He rose and demonstrated to them, "by many infallible signs," His identity, they were as much surprised as they were gladdened;

for, though He had plainly foretold, they had not really expected, the event. Some of them went to the sepulchre on the morning of the third day, not to see if He had risen, but to embalm His body for permanent preservation and repose. Now that He has ascended, they have mingled feelings; rejoicing that He is out of the reach of harm; sorrowing that they have lost His personal presence, His endeared society, His instructive counsel, His wise leadership. They remember that He said He would send "another Comforter," who should supply His place, and render them important service; but into the full purport of that promise they have not yet entered. The denser shades are removed; Providence has shown them how light may arise out of obscurity; but as yet they see nothing clearly; all is misty and indefinite. He has charged them to do a certain work, and promised to give them success; but when, or where, or how to begin, they do not know. He commanded, "Tarry ye in Jerusalem until ye be endued with power from on high." He promised, "And ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you; and ye shall be witnesses unto me, both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth." These words are floating in their minds, and putting them upon the stretch of inquiry; but their meaning is not fully

apprehended. The command they can obey; they can remain in Jerusalem rather than return to Galilee; but what is that "power from on high" for which they are to wait? What are they to understand by the coming of the Holy Ghost upon them? A wide field is assigned them for a certain service. What is that service in either form or design? What is it to be Christ's witnesses in such a field, embracing first the city where they are, then the surrounding country, then the adjoining province, then the entire world? Here are problems of magnitude, and, in their present state of mind, difficult of solution. They confer together upon these subjects, but no one seems to have any definite ideas; no one proposes a plan of action. They perceive no door open for a commencement of operations. They remember that their Lord gave them a broad commission, "Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature," and they are at no loss respecting what He meant by preaching, for He had set them the example, and some of them had known something of the work by personal experience. But the order of procedure was specified. "Beginning at Jerusalem;"-that was a special command. How to obey it they know not. Were they required to go to Egypt, or to Asia Minor, or even to Rome, and begin, they would be off tomorrow with heart and hope. But to commence in Jerusalem, the headquarters of opposition; to vindicate their Master's claims where the prejudice against Him is the strongest, and the hatred of His name the most virulent; to declare His innocence to the very people whose hands are yet red with His blood; to attest to His resurrection in face of the belief that they have stolen His body from the tomb; to say that He has ascended to heaven, whence He will return to judge the world; to exhibit Him as the one, the only, the all-sufficient Saviour of men,-how can they do all this? They regard the obstacles as insurmountable. They feel their own weakness as they never before felt it. Their hearts are tender, but their understandings are dark; their courage is

feeble; they are in suspense, not knowing what to do. They seem walled in by difficulties too high to be scaled, too solid to be broken. True, their Lord has said, "All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth;" but He has left them, and their feeling is one of desolation. In what direction shall they look for relief? Discussion kindles no light; they have no counseller; they have no wisdom of their own. If help shall come, it must be from above.

Imperfect, fragmentary as is their faith, they believe in prayer. Old Testament Scriptures teach abundantly the suitableness and the efficacy of prayer. They have often heard their Master pray; He has taught them to pray: He has assured them that whatsoever they should ask in His name, it should be done for them by His Father. What is so befitting their present condition as prayer?

No sooner is it proposed than all concur, and immediately all are upon their knees. If now we listen, we shall hear prayer that is prayer; not the mumblings of a form, but the expression of felt want. Situated as these persons are, shut up as we see them to this one resource, we are not surprised that they are "of one accord" in the serviceagreed as touching the thing which they ask. We have in them a specimen of true social devotion. Their necessity is one; their source of supply is one; their hearts beat in unison before the mercyseat; the petitions presented by one bear the signatures of all; they are unanimously in full sympathy with their object, and with one another. They need light, and all as one ask for light. "We are encompassed by difficulties; how shall we surmount them? We have assigned to us a great work; how shall we perform it? Our beloved Lord promised that if He should go away, He would send us another Comforter to be our instructor and guide. Oh, send us that Comforter to teach us in our ignorance, to direct us in our perplexity, to help us in our weakness! The troubles of our hearts are enlarged; oh, bring us out of our distresses! God be merciful to us, and bless us, and cause His face to shine

upon us; that thy way may be known upon earth, thy saving health among all nations." In this upper room we see developed, under an uncommon pressure, the essential spirit of prayer. These disciples feel their need and dependence. With no human helper, they look to God alone, and pour out their hearts before Him. Every one seems to say, "My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my expectation is from Him." One after another leads the whole company to the throne of the heavenly grace. That disciple whom Jesus loved, and who leaned on his Master's bosom, seems to be calmer than the rest, and pours forth his petitions with more of an affectionate, confiding spirit, and more of melting unction, than any other. James is sententious, pithy, strenuous, urging every request with directness and force, as an arrow sped by a strong archer. Simon Peter is earnest, but less collected, as if embarrassed by some painful remembrances. The women pray, and with becoming simplicity and pertinency. These are holy hours; this is an oratory such as the world has never Jerusalem is ignorant of the power that is here getting hold of the throne—a power that will yet shake this metropolis of pride and unbelief.

seen.

The shades of evening come over them; wearied with excitement, and agreeing to meet again, they embrace, speak words of cheer, and separate for the night. We have seen the beginning of the First Prayer Meeting; we have a presentiment of something more and better. These people, we are sure, have commenced their work at the right point and in the right way.

The next morning they are all present, and their number is increased. During the night, several of Christ's hidden ones, in various parts of the city, have been informed of the meeting and its object, and they hasten to join their brethren and swell the tide of devotion. A prayer meeting, where the right spirit prevails, and where the feeling is too deep, too solemn for anything but prayer, always grows, always collects around it, by the power of sympathy, the truly spiritual. Day after day they meet,

and daily their number is enlarged. "These all continue in prayer and supplication." We hear no singing. That would expose them to the whole neighbourhood. Besides, their emotions are of a class not to be expressed by music. Timidity, grief, anxiety, do not sing; they pray. The time may come when these disciples, even in prisons, and in prospect of martyrdom, will "sing and give praise." But now their befitting posture is low before the throne, and their appropriate service is "prayer and supplication." Zion's captives could not 66 sing the Lord's song in a strange land.' Restore them to Jerusalem; rebuild the temple; set up the altar and reinstate the ritual, and they will join the grand hallelujah of Israel. So, in the interval between the departure of the Saviour and the advent of the Comforter, these disciples have a feeling of desolation too oppressive for anything but prostration and petition before their Almighty Helper. Nor do we hear much exhortation. The sayings of Jesus, especially His promises, are repeated for mutual encouragement, and as a basis of confidence in their supplications. They dwell upon His ascension, and endeavour

to strengthen in one another's minds the hope that, as He still lives, he still cares for them, and will make some extraordinary demonstration in their favour. But their time is given mainly to one service; their thoughts are concentrated at one point. Amid the darkness there is one skylight, and thither their eyes are directed. Divine interposition and aid they must have, or they can do nothing. The infant cause of Christianity is now at its lowest point of depression, and the question is soon to be determined whether it is to rise and put on strength, or to be abandoned as a failure. All appearances are against it. Only a strong faith can anticipate a favourable change; and such faith these Christians have not. They see no way in which they can execute their appointed service. "Beginning at Jerusalem "-how much does that involve! As sheep among wolves, they have but to move, and they will be devoured. Who but God can extricate them from their perils? who