ADORATION is devout meditation on what Jehovah is—the praise of the Divine perfections. Thanksgiving is delighted meditation on what the Lord has done for us or others—praise for His mercies. Such praise is “comely”. Just as there is meanness in constant murmuring, so there is a gracefulness and a majesty in habitual gratitude. And it is “pleasant”. It is not the full purse or the easy calling, but the full heart, the praising disposition, that makes the blessed life; and, of all personal gifts, that man has got the best who has received the quick-discerning eye, the promptly joyful soul, the ever-praising spirit.
Prayers of thanksgiving, however superficially related to prayers of adoration, yet differ from them in requiring a less exclusive absorption in God, in starting from the sense of human satisfaction, human delight, which is then attributed to God as cause: “Oh that men would praise the Lord,” cries the Psalmist, “for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men”. Prayers of thanksgiving belong to very primitive peoples; and in sacrifice one often finds concrete expression of gratitude. Such sacrifices, exemplified by first-fruits, ceremonials, and burnt-offerings, are most often accompanied by verbal expressions. “Even the savage,” Jevons asserts, “who simply says ‘Here, Taxi, I have brought you something to eat,’ is expressing thanks, albeit in savage fashion.” [Note: M. W. Calkins, in The Harvard Theological Review, 4: 493.]
It is unfortunately too true that prayer is most commonly associated with the idea of getting something; whereas thanksgiving, as its name betrays, means the giving of something—it is an act of sacrifice. It is indeed a sad consideration how few are “found to give glory to God” among all the recipients of His grace. Thanksgiving, one would suppose, would be spontaneous and inevitable.
I do but sing because I must, said Tennyson. But how few Christians manifest the spontaneity of the linnet’s song, and sing because they must. How few ever have a heart so bursting with grateful emotion that they must withdraw to some solitude where their tears of praise may overflow, and their swelling gratitude find relief in adoration and thanksgiving. [Note: C. Silvester Horne, The Life that is Easy, 147.]
I.
1. Thanksgiving is a necessary part of every complete prayer, as necessary as supplication. It is the sign that the prayer is in faith. For it is not enough to ask; we must also believe that we have received. Thanksgiving is the acknowledgment that our prayer has been answered and that we have received that which we asked. If we look at St. Paul’s Epistles, we frequently find petition mentioned with thanksgiving accompanying it. “In everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God” (Php_4:6). It is probably intended to suggest the attitude of appropriation as well as of supplication. Prayer is asking; thanksgiving is testifying that we have received. It is just here that we fail; we ask, but we do not accept and appropriate. Faith in Scripture is twofold in meaning. There is the faith that asks and the faith that accepts. The faith that asks is expressed in petition; the faith that accepts is expressed in thanksgiving. We are continually asking, but have we the faith that appropriates? A Christian man went to lunch with an intimate friend whom he had known for twenty-five years, and after “grace” was said, the ordinary phrase being used, asking to be “made truly thankful,” the guest, claiming the privilege of friendship, inquired, “When do you expect to get that prayer answered? You have been praying all these years to be made thankful!” The man had been “asking,” but never appropriating. He had the faith that asks, but not the faith that accepts. Many a Christian would find life more powerful and blessed if he knew a little more of the faith that appropriates, faith that expresses itself in thanksgiving, “O God, I thank Thee!” We may see this in the Revised Version of Mar_11:24, “All things whatsoever ye pray and ask for, believe that ye have received them, and ye shall have them”. Let us not fail to accompany our prayer with this appropriation of thanksgiving.
2. Thanksgiving supposes and includes everything which is characteristic of godliness.
(1) It is the guardian of doctrine. St. Paul, in a profound analysis of the decline of faith, makes the first step of that decline unthankfulness. When men knew God, “they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful” (Rom_1:21). When they ceased to acknowledge God, He was gradually expelled from their thoughts, and soon disappeared from their creed. Atheism and idolatry are not intellectually attained; a man never reasons himself into these positions; they are the necessary result of spiritual insensibility. It is well for the Church to guard her doctrines by definition, and for the purposes of instruction and unity to fix them in formulas and catechisms, but these make a frail defence where the heart is not right with God; and even where these are not, the faith is safely housed if there be a doxology in the heart. To thank God is to acknowledge His creative power, His supreme providence, His unfailing bounty, and the multitude of His tender mercies. Thankfulness is not a poetical musing on the Divine perfections, but a glad sense of benefits personally received, fixing the attention of the mind directly upon the Giver, and with such dispositions as insure communion with the Giver. There will necessarily be prayer and confiding trust and love. God will be rich towards such a mind; it shall not be allowed to go astray.
(2) It is the process of holiness. There may be some difference in our manner of stating the doctrine of holiness, but we are agreed in substance as to the nature of holiness. The root of holiness is consecration to God. This is where it begins: “Know ye not that your body is a temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have from God? and ye are not your own; for ye were bought with a price: glorify God therefore in your body” (1Co_6:19-20). The idea here is the absolute giving away of ourselves to be the possession of another. This is the practical acknowledgment on our part of the purchase by which we cease to belong to ourselves. The blood shed for us by Christ makes us the simple property of Christ. Now this act of giving ourselves to God is not a single transaction, a business concluded once for all; it is living in the spirit of consignment. It is only by repeated acts of personal dedication that we can maintain theconsciousness that we belong to another. Our freedom of will and the ordinary motives of our life seem to proclaim that we are our own masters, and in the sense of personal responsibility we are. In our intercourse with men we govern ourselves. The faculties of self-control are never in abeyance, and unless we live in the spirit of consecration we soon cease to feel that we are bought with a price, and the claims of redemption, if not formally disputed, are like the dead letter of a bond no longer in force.
(3) It is the inspiration of union. The operation of thankfulness in this direction is seen at once in that well-known passage: “Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul” (Psa_66:16). In our notes of triumph, we are not satisfied unless others share the joy. If at such seasons the heart could have its way, if the expression of its gladness were not restricted by pride, fear, or expediency, we should call together our friends and neighbours and say unto them, “Rejoice with me” (Luk_15:6). Their joy increases ours. By a sympathy which is one of the great sources of human strength, they make the subject of our triumph their own. This communion in the property of joy extends to the property of sorrow, to the demands also of work and conflict, and is the essence of Church union.
Prayer is sometimes exercised as a duty and a task; on its supreme planes it is eagerly resorted to as a joy. A part of the true conception of true intercession consists in giving pleasure to our God. To supplicate on behalf of another, and to do it with the reluctance and misgivings of a bondman, cannot be “well-pleasing unto the Lord”. It is our high privilege to enter the Presence-chamber like children going home; and to name our fellow-pilgrims with the happy assurance that the very intercession is consonant with “the river of God’s pleasures”. Thus “the joy of the Lord” will be our strength. Let us ever supplicate for others as though we had infinite resources in the goodwill of the Lord, and so let us “with joy draw water out of the wells of salvation”. [Note: J. H. Jowett, The High Calling, 10.]
II.
1. No duty in the life of prayer would appear to be more in accord with man’s true nature, none more delightful, than thanksgiving, and yet none is so neglected, or, if recognized, so perfunctory. If prayers of thanksgiving were commoner, the whole life would be indefinitely enriched. The eye would ever be kept awake and clear for the hundred tokens of a Father’s love that fall unnoticed about our path every day, and the heart would be more sensitive and responsive to the great salvation. We are far enough yet from the enthusiasm of the New Testament. Perhaps indeed that can never be quite recalled. The men who had looked upon the face of Jesus or stood very near Him in history, and who had literally seen the world turned upside down by His gospel, must have been moved, as it is hardly possible for us to be moved who have been born into an atmosphere more than nominally Christian—a world whose type of civilization has, generally speaking, been created by Christianity; a world which is, indeed, far enough from being in all its departments controlled by the Christian spirit, but which nevertheless can show much genuinely Christian thought, activity, and aspiration. It may be that, in a world so different, that ancient enthusiasm can never be altogether repeated. Nevertheless, the thanksgiving of the New Testament remains an eloquent rebuke to our more sluggish Christianity, and a standard to which it must be continually recalled.
I have looked through volumes of modern sermons at times to gain inspiration on this theme; but how seldom do we read or hear one on the duty of thanksgiving. Our hymns are often morbid and introspective, whereas the Psalms are a well of joyous worship, and Christ and His Apostles stand before us as leaders in a tribute to God’s goodness and love. Again and again have I turned from theological treatises and the ordinary literature of today to the words of a prophet like John Ruskin, that I might catch the strain of a grateful heart, and learn anew that the worship of God is to rejoice in Him and to swell the grand chorus of praise which all Nature presents. [Note: Leonard E. Shelford, By Way of Remembrance, 96.]
2. Why is thanksgiving neglected? In the words “forget not all his benefits,” the Psalmist of the 103rd Psalm unveils the real cause. It is simply the want of recollection, the failure to gather up all the varied threads of the Divine grace and goodness with which, in all its stages and under all its conditions, our life is intertwined. That such forgetfulness would certainly produce ingratitude is the theme of constant warning in the Book of Deuteronomy, penetrated by its all-absorbing sense of personal devotion to God. And the forgetfulness is traced to its source. With prosperity the heart would be “lifted up,” and dependence on the Divine Benefactor would be ignored, if not resented. In the New Testament, the duty is no less earnestly and constantly impressed, although one might have supposed that, when the “inestimable love” of God had been revealed “in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ,” no exhortation, beyond the statement of this fact, would have been required. To St. Paul, perpetual joy, unfailing prayer, unbroken and universal thanksgiving constituted the Christian ideal, “the will of God in Christ Jesus”.
It is more than coincidence that the Apostle’s plea for thanksgiving is followed by the words, “Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honourable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things” (Php_4:8). Thanksgiving cannot be pumped up from an empty mind and a dried heart. It must flow forth from a full spring. The best way to secure it is to store the mind with worthy themes. If we think on the things that have praise and virtue, the stream of thanksgiving will break from the rockiest heart. We are encouraged in this connexion by considering the habits of singing souls. They have accustomed themselves to walk on lofty levels within sight of the majesty of God and beside the cataracts of redemptive love. Their haunts are Alpine heights, not valley paths, nor the streets of a city. They breathe an ample air. Their sanctuary is spacious. It is to be noted also that they tread the Via Dolorosa frequently. Their feet are often found on Calvary’s hill. The light of the cross shines about them, and the sight of the dying Saviour awes them into tremulous love. Men and women with such habits never want for themes of thanksgiving. They dwell among the splendours of the Divine revelation, and it quickens their praise anew each time they lift up their eyes.
“God give you a good day, my friend,” said Tauler of Strasburg to a beggar whom he met at a time when he was seeking a deeper knowledge of God. “I thank God,” said the beggar, “I never have a bad day.” Tauler, astonished, changed the form of his salutation. “God give you a happy life, friend.” “I thank God,” said the beggar, “I am never unhappy.” “Never unhappy!” said Tauler; “what do you mean?” “Well,” rejoined the beggar, “when it is fine, I thank God; when it rains, I thank God; when I have plenty, I thank God; when I am hungry, I thank God; and since God’s will is my will, and whatsoever pleases Him pleases me, why should I say I am unhappy when I am not?” “But what,” said Tauler, “if God were to cast you hence into hell—how then?” Whereat the beggar paused a moment, and then lifting his eyes upon him, he answered, “And if He did, I should have two arms to embrace Him with—the arm of my faith, wherewith I lean upon His holy humanity, and the arm of my love, wherewith I am united to His ineffable Deity; and thus one with Him, He would descend thither with me, and there would I infinitely rather be with Him than anywhere else without Him.” “But who are you?” said Tauler, taken aback by the sublimity of the reply. “I am a king,” said the beggar. “A king!” said Tauler; “where is your kingdom?” “In my own heart,” said the beggar. [Note: E. W. Moore, The Christ-Controlled Life, 5.]
3. Why is it difficult to be thankful? If we feel today that we ought to be thankful, and if we know that hitherto thanksgiving has formed too small a part of our devotions, what is wanted in order that we may do better for the future, what is the preparation of the heart that we shall need in order that we may be able to praise?
(1) Before praise there must be penitence. “Praise is not seemly in the mouth of sinners.” Sin, unrepented sin, is the great hindrance to praise. Let this be our first consideration if we resolve today that for the remainder of our lives we must praise and thank the Lord for His goodness. Let us resolve, with God’s help, to cease from all wilful sin. Let us think what would have troubled us most if we had been called during these last months to render up the account of our lives; and let us, by God’s help, put that right, whatever it may be. Penitence must come before praise.
(2) But then we may still ask the question, Why is it hard to be thankful? Why do we find it hard to express our thanks for a kindness that we have received? Why is it difficult to say “Thank you”? The cause of our difficulty is our pride; we do not like to seem to be dependent upon any one; we like to assert our independence and to claim what we have as our right. This discloses our second need. If we desire today to be thankful and to praise, first we need penitence, and secondly humility. We must acknowledge our dependence upon God; we must fall down and worship Him.
I will thank Him for the pleasures given me through my senses, for the glory of the thunder, for the mystery of music, the singing of birds and the laughter of children. I will thank Him for the pleasures of seeing, for the delights through colour, for the awe of the sunset, the beauty of flowers, the smile of friendship, and the look of love; for the changing beauty of the clouds, for the wild roses in the hedges, for the form and the beauty of birds, for the leaves on the trees in spring and autumn, for the witness of the leafless trees through the winter, teaching us that death is sleep and not destruction, for the sweetness of flowers and the scent of hay. Truly, 0 Lord, the earth is full of Thy riches!
And yet how much more I will thank and praise God for the strength of my body enabling me to work, for the refreshment of sleep, for my daily bread, for the days of painless health, for the gift of my mind and the gift of my conscience, for His loving guidance of my mind ever since it first began to think, and of my heart ever since it first began to love. Oh, from what unknown errors has He guarded me, from what beginnings of sins has He kept me back! I will praise Him for my family, my father and my mother, my brothers and sisters, my home, for my husband, for my wife, for the kindness of servants, and the love of children.
These are but a few things we can call to mind instantly when we think attentively and reverently of our creation and preservation and of the blessings of this life; but what shall we say when we think of our redemption and of the hope of the life to come? What does it mean? That I am in the kingdom of heaven, that I am a member of Christ and a child of God, that Christ loved me and gave Himself for me, that there is pardon for all my sins, that I have the means of grace and the hope of glory. What can I say to all this but “Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: Who forgiveth all thy sin, and healeth all thine infirmities; Who saveth thy life from destruction; and crowneth thee with mercy and loving-kindness”? [Note: Bishop Edward King, Sermons and Addresses, 38.]
Ye are always singing the good Lord’s praise,
And publishing all that His hand
Has wrought for you in the bygone days,
And all that His heart has planned.
And verily all that ye say is true;
For I gratefully confess
That whatever the Lord has done for you
He has done for me no less.
But when I remember the weary ways
Which my feeble feet have trod,
And the human love which all my days
Has helped me along the road,
Then the love of man is my song of praise
As well as the love of God.
And I hardly think that I would have seen
The love of God so clear,
Unless the love of man had been
So visible and near.
III.
1. Perhaps the most remarkable difference between the Old Testament and the New Testament is the shifting of the emphasis from petition to thanksgiving. The Old Testament is indeed a glad book. Worshipping a God of salvation, a God who had saved and who could save in real and tangible ways, the people could not but be happy in their worship. This at least was the mood of pre-Exilic times. From the Exile onwards, the religion became much more sombre; but joy was far from being obliterated. The call to “give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever” is peculiarly frequent in post-Exilic times. The 107th Psalm is an eloquent and grateful testimony to the goodness of Jehovah. Many of the later psalms form one continuous shout of jubilation, and some of the later prayers acknowledge very fully the goodness of God to Israel in history. Nevertheless, petition vastly outweighs thanksgiving. With a deepening recognition of the majesty of God, petition becomes more reverent. The old complaints, in which man spoke to God as to a friend with whom he was angry, become fewer and fewer. They are common still in Jeremiah; but, except for the Book of Job, which is practically a dramatic poem, and some stray utterances in the Psalms, complaints practically disappear. With the coming of Jesus, however, the absence of complaint merges into positive thanksgiving. “Father, I thank thee”—that was the motto of Jesus. The change is very obvious in the prayers of His greatest disciple. The Epistles of Paul are crowded with prayers of thanksgiving, and this proportion between thanksgiving and petition is an altogether new thing in prayer.
2. But is there any thanksgiving in the Lord’s Prayer? Without doubt it includes an unexpressed thanksgiving. Indeed the whole prayer supposes the experience of the grace of God, although this experience is not directly mentioned. May not the simple “my father,” or “my mother,” in a child’s mouth, carry with it such a tone as to express a warm, heartfelt gratitude for all blessings received? When, then, in such a tone of heart and voice we say, “Our Father which art in heaven,” do not these words include a sense of gratitude for every grace and gift which has descended on us from above, from our Heavenly Father? Every single manifestation of God’s care is a revelation of His Fatherly love and mercy towards us. Who can pray in earnest concerning God’s name, His kingdom, or the forgiveness of sins, without having first consciously realized that He has revealed His name to us, founded His kingdom of grace among us, promised and imparted forgiveness of sins to us? But whoever truly realizes all this will certainly render thanks for it, render thanks even in silence. The two things, indeed, are one.
3. Songs of praise are unusually abundant in the Book of Revelation. Day and night they rise from the lips of the four living creatures to Him that sitteth upon the throne. And the reason why the great multitude in heaven rejoices and gives the glory to God is because Christ has conquered the world, and He shall reign for ever and ever. The scene is set in heaven, and the vision is a vision of faith, not of reality; yet, though of faith, it is intensely real. The writer sees, if only with the eye of faith, what Jeremiah had longed to see, and was perplexed and grieved because he could not see—the manifest vindication of the moral order, the indisputable triumph of the Kingdom of God. “We give thee thanks, O Lord God, the Almighty, because thou hast taken thy great power and didst reign.” He had proved Himself more than a match in the struggle with the cruel powers of evil. Salvation and power belonged to Him, because He had “judged the great harlot and avenged the blood of his servants”. They had poured out the blood of the saints and prophets, “and blood hast thou given them to drink: they are worthy”. Therefore Hallelujah, and again Hallelujah. Yes, “righteous art thou, true and righteous are thy judgments”. It is the contemplation of the Divine justice, of the thoroughness and terribleness of the Divine judgment upon the gigantic forces of evil, of the victory of right and good and God—it is these things that stir the writer’s blood. In its longing for a vindication of the moral order by the Divine vengeance upon all opposed to that order, this great literary witness to the spirit of Jewish Christianity stands very near the Old Testament. But the book, though intensely Jewish, is also intensely Christian. It draws its inspiration, if not always from the spirit of Jesus, at any rate from an absolute faith in Him, an immovable confidence in His power and ultimate victory. This confidence is enthusiastically shared by all the writers of the New Testament; and so it is fitting that although the New Testament doxologies are usually offered to God, there is at least one undisputed doxology to Christ. “To him be the glory both now and for ever. Amen.”
How can man effectually ascribe to Christ “glory and dominion for ever and ever”? Not merely by uttering. Amen, but by living Amen. To use the grace of God’s most bountiful salutation, thereby attaining His peace, constitutes us His faithful servants and patient saints; servants who shall see His face and serve Him in perfection; saints in whom He shall be glorified when He cometh to be admired in all them that believe. “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” Lord Jesus, what joy was that, what covetable good, for whose sake Thou didst endure the Cross, despising the shame? Not for glory and dominion for ever and ever simply and for their own sake. Already Thou hadst glory with the Father before the world was, and dominion and fear were with Thee before man transgressed Thy commandment. Nay, rather, it was that as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so mightest Thou rejoice over us. If Thou hadst given no more than all the substance of Thy house for love, it might have been contemned: but Thou hast given Thyself. What shall we give Thee in return? What shall we not give Thee? [Note: Christina G. Rossetti, The Face of the Deep, 18.]
IV.
1. Thanksgiving is with joy. It is the expression of the glad heart. That is why the Book of Psalms is a book of joy: it is a book of thanksgiving. This old Hebrew classic has gone through the generations of men as an angel of the presence of the Lord, entering into the huts of the lowly and filling them with the radiance of God, penetrating the gloom of the palace and making it as the sanctuary of the Highest, lighting the path of the weary pilgrim in the valley of the shadow of death, spreading with plenty the tables of life even in the presence of enemies, and filling him with the assurance that God will lead him in the path of life, until he stands in that presence where there are fulness of joy and pleasures for evermore. Like the good shepherd, it has led the flock of God beside the still waters of peace and into the green pastures of truth. Like a conquering general, it has braced the sacramental hosts of God for the fight against evil and for righteousness and liberty. It has been medicine to the diseased, an anodyne to care, a solace for the sad, a herald of deliverance to the imprisoned, courage for the despondent, a light shining in the dark places of life, and an unfailing fountain of joy. The religion of the Psalms is the religion of thanksgiving, of triumphant joy in God; and the book itself is, excepting one, the best commentary upon the words, “Whoso offereth praise glorifieth God”. That other and better exposition is the New Testament. It takes the songs of the prophet-poets and sets them in a new key. It makes it possible for men to surpass the heroism of the martyrs of the Maccabean time, and to exhibit a steadfastness of purpose and fulness of joy, and even exultation of soul in tribulation, which show that they ascended to higher ranges of life than the finest of the Hebrew race before. It is the fruit, no doubt, of the principles which Christianity takes up out of the Old Testament, but it is expressed with greater clearness and force in the concrete example of Jesus Christ Himself, and demonstrated in a great series of historic facts, of which He is the centre and the source. The three thousand on the day of Pentecost scarcely had met together before it is remarked that they ate their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God and having favour with all the people.
One reason why prayers of thanksgiving are relatively far fewer in the Old Testament than in the New is that fulness of joy is possible only to those who are partakers of the salvation proclaimed and wrought by Jesus. But even in the Old Testament there is a deep under-current of joy. The religious festivals of pre-Exilic times were happy gatherings at which men rejoiced and were glad, as they looked at the produce of the field and vine-clad hill-side, and reminded themselves of the Divine goodness; and even post-Exilic religion, though in many ways sombre, is also glad. Worship was solemn but happy.
“Enter into his gates with thanksgiving,
And into his courts with praise:
Give thanks unto him and bless his name.
For Jehovah is good; his love is everlasting.” [Note: J. E. McFadyen, The Prayers of the Bible, 62.]
It is told that when the New England Colonies were first planted, the settlers endured many privations and difficulties. Being piously disposed, they laid their distresses before God in frequent days of fasting and prayer. Constant meditation on such topics kept their minds gloomy and discontented, and made them disposed even to return to their Fatherland with all its persecutions. At length, when it was proposed to appoint a day of fasting and prayer, a plain, common-sense old colonist was in the meeting, and remarked that he thought they had brooded long enough over their misfortunes, and that it seemed high time they should consider some of their mercies—that the colony was growing strong, the fields increasing in harvests, the rivers full of fish, and the woods of game, the air sweet, the climate salubrious, and their homes happy; above all, that they possessed what they came for, full civil and religious liberty. And therefore, on the whole, he would amend their resolution for a fast, and propose in its stead a day of thanksgiving. His advice was taken, and from that day to this the festival has been an annual one. [Note: S. Conway.]
2. The joy comes when we recognize the Giver more than we appreciate the gift. What can bring us such joy in prayer as the knowledge that we are in a Father’s immediate presence? How many Christians are listless and irregular in their prayers because they have no clear conception of the nature of God. He is only a vast and distant abstraction to them, so that they cannot concentrate their thoughts upon Him. Because He possesses no reality, no tender personality for them, their prayers are cold, lifeless, unreal. They drop out of prayerful habits altogether, because prayer never seems to do them any good. What is the cure for such a miserable state of things as this? It is of little use to tell them that when they are able to pray the least they need to pray the most. That is true enough, but it does not cure the evil. What will give back to their prayer its old joyfulness? What will make prayer once again in their lives a glad spontaneous exercise of soul, rather than, a dreary and irksome duty? Only a new vision of the Father who is good unto all. Let them dwell upon that Name until it becomes instinct with new meaning. Let them feed upon it in thought until it lays hold of them with all the power of its tender import. Let them gaze up into the darkness with the word “Father” upon their lips, until a Father’s face shines out of the black vacancy, until a Father’s arms appear outstretched in love, until a Father’s voice falls upon their waiting ears saying, “My child, come near to Me”. Then all the dull, dreary unreality will vanish from their devotions. Prayer will become a new thing to them, transformed, irradiated, glorified by the tender beauty of that vision, and the little child will not find more joy in the presence of an earthly parent than the Christian will find in his intercourse with God.
Prayer is an expression of the faith which lays hold of the reconciliation and filial relation offered us by God’s grace, and which makes joyous gratitude the normal and fundamental mood of the Christian. Therefore it must be in its essence thanksgiving. The view that petition or confession is the rule, and that thanksgiving is a kind of prayer that is offered only in the event of the fulfilment of petitions or of a particular manifestation of grace, is a view that suits only religions in which God is chiefly one who gives men their desires, or else legal religions. [Note: J. Gottschick, Ethik, 137.]
In thanksgiving we rightly appreciate what has been experienced by us. We not only regard the gift, but also take account of the Giver; we not only make clear to ourselves what has been wrought, but also remember the Worker. An occurrence which moves us to thanksgiving has become to us a revelation of God. So far as we are able to give thanks, so far God is manifest to us in His working. [Note: A. Schlatter, Das Christliche Dogma, 220.]
