had something to utter in the hearing of the Almighty. He had something to
lay before his God--a story, a confession, a plea. His heart was full, and
must outpour itself into the ear of Heaven. 'Hear me speedily, O Lord.' We
have all prayed thus. We have all faced some situation that struck a note
of urgency in our life, and all your soul has come to our lips in this one
cry that went up to the Father, 'Hear me.' A sudden pain, a surprise of
sorrow, a few moments of misty uncertainty in the face of decisions that
had to be made at once, times when life has tried to rush us from our
established position and to bear us we know not where--and our soul has
reached out after God as simply and naturally as a man grasps at some fixed
thing when he is falling.

There are times, too, when prayer is an indefinable relief. We all know
something about the relief of speech. We must speak to somebody. Our need
is not, first of all, either advice or practical help. We want a hearing.
We want some one to listen and sympathize. We want to share our pain. That
is what 'Hear me' sometimes means. Whatever Thou shalt see fit to do for
me, at least listen to my cry. Let me unburden my soul. Let me get this
weight of silence off my heart. This fashion of relief is part of the true
office of prayer. Herein lies the reasonableness of telling our story in
the ear of One who knows that story better than we do. We need not inform
the All-knowing, but we must commune with the All-pitiful. We make our life
known unto God that we may make it bearable unto ourselves.

But let us look at the attitude of mind and heart revealed in this second
position, _Cause me to hear_. Now we are coming to the larger truth about
prayer, and the deeper spirit of it. Prayer is not merely claiming a
hearing; it is giving a hearing. It is not only speaking to God; it is
listening to God. And as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are the
words we hear greater than the words we speak. Let us not forget this. Let