“Let us examine them closely,” replied Ida, “let us fix upon what you consider the very best of our works, and let us see if it could, even for a moment, in itself support the weight of a soul.”
Mabel considered for a little, and then said, “Perhaps the best of our works is prayer.”
“We shall not need much examination, I fear, to find that our prayers are cold, wandering, insincere.”
“And sadly wandering,” added Ida; “at least I am sure that I feel mine to be so. O Mabel! I have often reflected that if an angel could write down all the thoughts that flow through our minds while we kneel in the attitude of prayer,—the foolish fancies, the idle dreams, the vain selfish imaginations which mix with our earnest supplications, we should be so shocked and disgusted at such a mockery of devotion, that with penitence and shame we should implore that our prayers themselves should be forgiven!”
“Yes; they are cold and wandering,—but I am sure that mine are not insincere.”
“I am afraid that we sometimes ask for blessings which we have no earnest desire to obtain. Do we not sometimes pray to be delivered from pride and uncharitableness, when at the time we are fostering these enemies as welcome guests in our hearts? Have we fully entered into the spirit of that prayer which we have so often uttered:—
‘The dearest idol I have known, Whate’er that idol be, Help me to tear it from thy throne, And worship only Thee?’
If we were quite certain that such prayers would be granted _directly_, would we not sometimes be afraid to breathe them, and is there then no insincerity in having them so frequently on our lips?”
“O Ida!” exclaimed Mabel, with a sigh; “you look a great deal too closely into the heart! If our very prayers be full of sin, what must our worldly actions be? The most disagreeable duty in the world is this searching for hidden evil, this dreadful self-examination! I am sure that a great many good people never practise it, and are much happier for their ignorance of themselves.”
“What should we say, dear one, of a man of business who refused to look into his books, lest he should find the balance against him? of the owner of a dwelling who should be content to keep one room swept and cleansed, leaving all the rest, with locked doors and closed shutters, to darkness and pollution? what should we think of the governor of a castle, who should pace proudly along the battlements, careless whether a lurking foe had not penetrated to the heart of the fortress?”