n the Church
expectant as in the Church militant, the answer to the constant prayer,
"Thy Kingdom come," is being ceaselessly given; and the fulness thereof
will be realised in the Church triumphant. The saints on earth and those
in Paradise are equally in the hands of the Lord, though the latter have
clearer vision and nearer sense of the fact than the former. By some
this is used as an argument against the practice of prayer for the
departed, but surely this thought of the unity of the whole body leads
in exactly the opposite direction. No argument can be adduced against
this most ancient and primitive custom, observed by the Jews long before
the coming of Christ, but what equally applies to any petition for an
absent friend still on earth. In each case they are in the keeping of
Him Who knows best and will do right, yet for those still here we pray,
believing that in His own way God will take account of our prayers and
knit them up into His own dealings, so that they become part of His
eternal purposes. When commending the departed to Him, naturally our
words will be chastened and restrained because we know somewhat less of
the conditions of the "intermediate state" than we do of those of our
own dispensation. Somewhat less; for how little do we really understand
of the circumstances around us now in all their bearings as they lie
open beneath the eye of God. Therefore it is that whenever we pray we
must ask in full submission to our own limitations and in the spirit of
the Master, "Nevertheless not my will, but Thine be done."

Thank God this matter is not one of argument; no, it lies in another
plane: the innate feeling of one who really knows what prayer means and
who has grasped in some degree the doctrine of the "Communion of
Saints."

A pious evangelical, well fortified with arguments against prayer for
the departed, had been nursing her sick sister and taking care of the
little daughter of the house. The sister died, and the same evening
the motherless girl knelt down at her aunt's side to say her prayers.
"Auntie, may I say God bless dear mother?" The whole drift of the aunt's
training and theology would have led her to say "No" point blank. There
was no time for argument or explanation, for facing the inevitable "If
not, why not?" The instincts of natural religion prevailed; the aunt
replied, "Yes, dear"; and from that day onward never failed herself to
say, when remembering her dear ones, "God bless my sis