_Private_ prayer, on the contrary, is that which is offered by private individuals, whether for themselves or for others; and its nature does not demand that it should be vocal. At the same time, we can use our voices in this kind of prayer, and this for three reasons: Firstly, in order to excite interior devotion whereby our minds may, when we pray, be lifted up to God; for men's minds are moved by external signs--whether words or acts--to understand, and, by consequence, also to feel. Wherefore S. Augustine says to Proba[199]: "By words and other signs we vehemently stir ourselves up so as to increase our holy desires." Hence in private prayer we must make such use of words and other signs as shall avail to rouse our minds interiorly. But if, on the other hand, such things only serve to distract the mind, or prove in any way a hindrance, then we must cease from them; this is especially the case with those whose minds are sufficiently prepared for devotion without such incentives. Thus the Psalmist says: _My heart hath said to Thee, My face hath sought Thee[200];_ and of Anna we are told that _she spoke within her heart_.[201] And secondly, we make use of vocal prayer in payment, as it were, of a just debt--in order, that is, to serve God with the entirety of what we have received from Him; consequently not with our mind alone but with our body as well; and this, as the Prophet Osee says, is especially suitable to prayer considered as a satisfaction for our sins: _Take away all iniquity and receive the good, and we will render the calves of our lips_.[202] And thirdly, we sometimes make use of vocal prayer because the soul overflows, as it were, on to the body by reason of the vehemence of our feelings, as it is written: _My heart hath been glad, and my tongue hath rejoiced_.[203] But it seems to some that prayer should not be vocal, thus: 1. Prayer is, as we have said, principally directed to God, and God knows the heart's speech. Consequently to add vocal prayer is idle.
But vocal prayer is not employed in order to manifest to God something which He did not know, but to stir up the mind of him who prays, and of others, too, towards God.
2. Again, man's mind is meant to rise by prayer towards God; but words, and other things pertaining to the senses, keep back a man from the ascent of contemplation.
Words appertaining to other things than God do indeed distract the mind and hinder the devotion of him who prays; but devotional words stir up the mind, especially if it be less devout.
3. Lastly, prayer ought to be offered to God in secret, according to the words: _But thou when thou shalt pray, enter into thy chamber, and having shut the door, pray to thy Father in secret_;[204] whereas to pray vocally means to publish it abroad.
But, as S. Chrysostom says[205]: "The Lord forbade us to pray in public with a view to being seen by the public. Consequently, when we pray we should do nothing novel to attract men's attention, whether by uttering cries which may be heard by them, or by openly beating our breasts, or by spreading out our hands, for the crowd to see us." While, on the other hand, as S.
Augustine remarks[206]: "To be seen by men is not wrong, but to do things to be seen by men."
* * * * * _Cajetan:_ Note carefully, ye who murmur at the Church's services, these three points: the different kinds of vocal prayer, its necessity, and the conditions attaching to it. For vocal prayer is divided into that which is in common and that which is private or individual.
The general necessity of vocal prayer arises from the fact that it is offered in the person of the Church. For since the Church is composed of created beings dependent on the senses, prayer made through the medium of the senses--_i.e._, vocal prayer--must needs be offered by its ministers; else we should not know whether the worship of prayer was being offered by God's ministers, nor should we be conscious of the gift to God which was being offered by them in prayer; for the Church only judges from the things that appear externally.
Our individual need of vocal prayer arises from the necessity of stirring up our own devotion, and preserving it.
The conditions of prayer in common are twofold: it must be vocal, and it must be out loud. Hence those who say private Masses in such a low tone--and that consciously--as to be unintelligible to their hearers, appear to act unreasonably and are inexcusable, unless it should happen by accident that no one is present; in this case it is sufficient if they can be heard by the server who is close at hand. This will also show us what use we are to make of chant, or of recitation without chant, in prayer in common: it must be governed by our common devotion.
And in whatever fashion such prayer may be made this rule must always be observed: it must be said so intelligibly that the meaning of the words may be distinctly perceived both by the reciters and by others, that so the Church's devotion may be aroused.
And reason tells us what conditions attach to our private prayer: viz., our own private devotion. This shews, too, the error of those who, in order to complete the tale of a large number of private vocal prayers each day, lay aside meditation and mental prayer. They neglect the end _S. Augustine:_ Oh! How I lifted up my voice to Thee, O Lord, when I sang the Psalms of David, those songs full of faith, those strains full of piety which soothed my swelling spirit! And I was then but uninstructed in Thy true love; a catechumen spending my leisure with Alypius, another catechumen. And my mother stayed with us: clad indeed in woman's garb, but with a man's faith, with a matron's calm, with a mother's love, with a Christian's piety. Oh! How I lifted up my voice in those Psalms! How they inflamed my heart! How I yearned to recite them, if I could, to the whole world--as an answer to the pride of the human race! Though, indeed, they are sung throughout the world, and none can hide himself from Thy heat! (_Confess._, IX. iv. 8).
_S. Augustine:_ Sometimes, indeed, through immoderate fear of this mistake I err by excessive severity; nay, sometimes, though it is but rarely, I could almost wish to shut out from my ears and even from the Church itself all those sweet-sounding melodies used in the accompaniment of David's Psalms. Sometimes it seems to me as though it would be safer to do as I have often heard that Athanasius, the Bishop of Alexandria, did, for he made the reader of the Psalms so modulate his voice that he came to be rather speaking than singing. Yet, on the other hand, when I remember the tears which I shed when I heard the Church's chant in the early days of my regaining the faith, and when I notice that even now I am stirred--not so much by the chant as by the things that are chanted--when, that is, they are chanted with clear intonation and suitable modulation, then once more I recognize the great value of this appointed fashion (_Confess._, X. xxxiii. 50).
_S. Augustine: I have cried with my whole heart, hear me, O Lord!_[207] Who can question but that when men pray their cry to the Lord is vain if it be nought but the sound of the corporeal voice and their heart be not intent upon God? But if their prayer come from the heart, then, even though the voice of the body be silent, it may be hidden from all men, yet not from God. Whether, then, we pray to God with our voice--at times when such prayer is necessary--or whether we pray in silence, it is our heart that must send forth the cry. But the heart's cry is the earnest application of our minds. And when this accompanies our prayer it expresses the deep affections of him who yearns and asks and so despairs not of his request. And further, a man cries _with his whole heart_ when he has no other thought. Such prayers with many are rare; with few are they frequent; I know not whether anyone's prayers are always so "Incline Thy ear, O Lord, and hear me; for I am needy and poor.
Preserve my soul, for I am holy: save Thy servant, O my God, that trusteth in Thee. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I have cried to Thee all the day. Give joy to the soul of Thy servant, for to Thee, O Lord, I have lifted up my soul. For Thou, O Lord, art sweet and mild; and plenteous in mercy to all that call upon Thee."[208] XIII Must Prayer necessarily be Attentive?
That even holy men sometimes suffer distraction of mind when at prayer is clear from the words: _My heart hath forsaken me!_[209] This question particularly concerns vocal prayer. And for its solution we must know that a thing is said to be necessary in two senses: firstly, in the sense that by it a certain end is _more readily_ attained, and in this sense attention is absolutely requisite in prayer.
But a thing is said to be necessary also because without it a certain thing cannot attain its object _at all_. Now the effect or object of prayer is threefold. Its first effect--an effect, indeed, which is common to all acts springing from charity--is _merit_; but to secure this effect it is not necessarily required that attention should be kept up throughout the prayer, but the initial intention with which a man comes to prayer renders the whole prayer meritorious, as, indeed, is the case in all other meritorious acts.
The second effect of prayer is peculiar to it, and that is to _obtain favours_; and for this, too, the primary intention suffices, and to it God principally looks. But if the primary intention is wanting, prayer is not meritorious, neither can it win favours; for, as S. Gregory says, God hears not the prayer of a man who when he prays does not give heed to God.[210] The third effect of prayer is that which it immediately and actually brings about, namely, the _spiritual refreshment of the soul_; and to attain this end attention is necessarily required in prayer. Whence it is said, _If I pray in a tongue my understanding is without fruit_.[211] At the same time, we must remember that there is a threefold species of attention which may find place in our vocal prayer: one by which a man attends to the words he recites, and is careful to make no mistake in them; another by which he attends to the meaning of the words; and a third by which he attends to the end of all prayer--namely, God Himself--and to the object for which he is praying. And this species of attention is the most necessary of all, and one which even uninstructed folk can have; sometimes, indeed, the intensity with which the mind is borne towards God is, as says Hugh of S. Victor, so overwhelming that the mind is oblivious of all else.[212] Some, however, argue that prayer must of necessity be attentive, thus: 1. It is said in S. John's Gospel[213]: _God is a spirit, and they that adore Him must adore Him in spirit and truth_. But inattentive prayer is not _in spirit_.
But he prays _in spirit and in truth_ who comes to pray moved by the impulse of the Spirit, even though, owing to human infirmity, his mind afterwards wanders.
2. But again, prayer is "the ascent of the mind towards God." But when prayer is inattentive the mind does not ascend towards God.
But the human mind cannot, owing to Nature's weakness, long remain on high, for the soul is dragged down to lower things by the weight of human infirmity; and hence it happens that when the mind of one who prays ascends towards God in contemplation it suddenly wanders away from Him owing to his infirmity.
3. Lastly, prayer must needs be without sin. But not without sin does a man suffer distraction of mind when he prays, for he seems to mock God, just as if one were to speak with his fellow-man and not attend to what he said. Consequently S. Basil says[214]: "The Divine assistance is to be implored, not remissly, nor with a mind that wanders here and there; for such a one not only will not obtain what he asks, but will rather be mocking God."
Of course, if a man purposely allowed his mind to wander in prayer, he would commit a sin and hinder the fruit of his prayer. Against such S. Augustine says in his _Rule_[215]: "When you pray to God in Psalms and hymns, entertain your heart with what your lips are reciting." But that distraction of mind which is unintentional does not destroy the fruit of prayer.
Hence S. Basil also says: "But if through the weakness of sinful nature you cannot pray with attention, restrain your imagination as far as you can, and God will pardon you, inasmuch as it is not from negligence but from weakness that you are unable to occupy yourself with Him as you should."
* * * * * _Cajetan:_ Does a man satisfy the precept of the Church if, being bound to the recitation of the Divine Office, he sets out with the intention of meditating upon the Divine Goodness or upon the Passion of Christ, and thus keeping his mind firmly fixed upon God? Clearly a man who strives to keep his mind occupied during the whole of the Divine Office with contemplation of and devout affections towards God and Divine things fully satisfies his obligation. So, too, a man who aims at meditation on the Passion of Christ and devout affections on it during the whole Office, undoubtedly satisfies his obligation, for he is making use of a better means for keeping in touch with the Divinity than if he merely dwelt upon the meaning of the words. At the same time, he must be ready to lay this aside if in the course of the Office he finds himself uplifted to Divine things, for at this he must primarily aim. One who so prays, then, must make the Passion of Christ a means and not an end; he must, that is, be prepared to ascend thereby, if God grants it, to Divine things. In short, we may make use of any one of the species of attention enumerated above provided we do not exclude the higher forms.
Thus, for example, if a man feels that it is more suited to his small capacity to aim simply at making no mistakes, and habitually makes use of this form of attention, he must still use it as a means only; he must, that is, be at God's disposition, for God may have mercy upon him and grant him, by reason of his dispositions, some better form of attention.
Again, when a person prays for things needful for his support in life he must not be so occupied with the thought of these things as to appear to subordinate Divine things to human, as though prayer was but a means and his daily living the end. We must bear in mind the doctrine laid down above[216]--viz., that _all our prayers should tend to the attainment of grace and glory_. We must occupy ourselves with the thought of eternal glory, or of the glory of the adoption of sons during this life, or with the virtues as means to arriving at our eternal home, and as the adornment of the inhabitants of heaven, and the commencement here of heavenly "conversation"; such things as these must be counted as the _S. Augustine: Give joy to the soul of Thy servant, for to Thee, O Lord, I have lifted up my soul. For Thou, O Lord, art sweet and mild._[217] It seems to me that he calls God "mild" because He endures all our vagaries, and only awaits our prayers that He may perfect us. And when we offer Him our prayers He accepts them gratefully and hears them.
Neither does He reflect on the careless way in which we pour them out, He even accepts prayers of which we are hardly conscious! For, Brethren, what man is there who would put up with it if a friend of his began a conversation with him, and yet, just when he was ready to reply to what his friend said, should discover that he was paying no attention to him but was saying something to someone else? Or supposing you were to appeal to a judge and were to appoint a place for him to hear your appeal, and then suddenly, while you were talking with him, were to put him aside and begin to gossip with a friend! How long would he put up with you? And yet God puts up with the hearts of so many who pray to Him and who yet are thinking of other things, even evil things, even wicked things, things hateful to God; for even to think of unnecessary things is an insult to Him with Whom you have begun to talk. For your prayer is a conversation with God. When you read, God speaks to you; when you pray, you speak to God...And you may picture God saying to you: "You forget how often you have stood before Me and have thought of such idle and superfluous things and have so rarely poured out to Me an attentive and definite prayer!" But _Thou, O Lord, art sweet and mild_! Thou art sweet, bearing with me! It is from weakness that I slip away! Heal me and I shall stand; strengthen me and I shall be firm! But until Thou dost so, bear with me, for _Thou, O Lord, art sweet and mild_ (_Enarr.
in Ps._ lxxxv. 7).
_S. Augustine: Praise the Lord, O my soul!_[218] What mean these words, Brethren? Do we not praise the Lord? Do we not sing hymns day by day? Do not our mouths, each according to their measure, sound forth day by day the praises of God? And what is it we praise? It is a great Thing that we praise, but that wherewith we praise is weak as yet. When does the singer fill up the praises of Him Whom he sings? A man stands and sings before God, often for a long space; but oftentimes, whilst his lips move to frame the words of his song, his thoughts fly away to I know not what desires! And so, too, our mind has sometimes been fixed on praising God in a definite manner, but our soul has flitted away, led hither and thither by divers desires and anxious cares. And then our mind, as though from up above, has looked down upon the soul as it flitted to and fro, and has seemed to turn to it and address its uneasy wanderings--saying to it: _Praise the Lord, O my soul!_ Why art thou anxious about other things than Him? Why busy thyself with the mortal things of earth? And then our soul, as though weighed down and unable to stand firm as it should, replies to our mind: _I will praise the Lord in my life!_ Why does it say _in my life_? Why? Because now I am in my death!
Rouse yourself, then, and say: _Praise the Lord, O my soul!_ And your soul will reply to you: "I praise Him as much as I can, though it is but weakly, in small measure, and with little strength." But why so? Because _while we are in the body we are absent from the Lord_.[219] And why do you thus praise the Lord so imperfectly and with so little fixity of attention? Ask Holy Scripture: _The corruptible body weigheth down the soul, and the earthly_ _habitation presseth down the mind that museth upon many things._[220] O take away, then, my body which weigheth down the soul, and then will I praise the Lord! Take away my earthly habitation which presseth down the mind that museth upon many things, so that, instead of many things I may be occupied with One Thing alone, and may praise the Lord! But as long as I am as I am, I cannot, for I am weighed down! What then? Wilt thou be silent? Wilt thou never perfectly praise the Lord? _I will praise the Lord in my life!_ (_Enarr in Ps._ cxlv. 1).
"My spirit is in anguish within me; my heart within me is troubled. I remembered the days of old, I meditated on all Thy works; I meditated upon the works of Thy hands. I stretched forth my hands to Thee; my soul is as earth without water unto Thee. Hear me speedily, O Lord: my spirit hath fainted away."[221] _S. Thomas:_ The fruits of prayer are twofold. For first there is the merit which thereby accrues to a man; and, secondly, there is the spiritual consolation and devotion which is begotten of prayer. And he who does not attend to, or does not understand his prayer, loses that fruit which is spiritual consolation; but we cannot say that he loses that fruit which is merit, for then we should have to say that very many prayers were without merit since a man can hardly say the _Lord's Prayer_ without some distraction of mind. Hence we must rather say that when a person is praying and is sometimes distracted from what he is saying, or--more generally--when a person is occupied with some meritorious work and does not continuously and at every moment reflect that he is doing it for God, his work does not cease to be meritorious.
And the reason is that in meritorious acts directed to a right end it is not requisite that our intention should be referred to that end at every moment, but the influence of the intention with which we begun persists throughout even though we now and again be distracted in some particular point; and the influence of this initial intention renders the whole body of what we do meritorious unless it be broken off by reason of some contrary affection intruding itself and diverting us from the end we had first in view to some other end contrary to it.
And it must be remembered that there are three kinds of attention. The first is attention to the words we are actually saying; and sometimes this is harmful, for it may hinder devotion. The second is attention to the meaning of the words, and this, too, may be harmful, though not gravely so. The third is attention to the goal of our prayer, and this better and almost necessary (_Commentary on 1 Cor._ xiv. 14).
XIV Should our Prayers be Long?
It would seem that we ought to pray continuously, for our Lord said: _We ought always to pray and not to faint[222];_ so also S. Paul: _Pray without ceasing_.[223] But we must notice that when we speak of prayer we can mean either prayer _considered in itself_ or the _cause of prayer_. Now the _cause of prayer_ is the desire of the love of God; and all prayer ought to spring from this desire which is, indeed, continuous in us, whether actually or virtually, since this desire virtually remains in everything which we do from charity. But we ought to do all things for the glory of God: _whether you eat or whether you drink, or whatsoever else you do, do all to the glory of God_.[224] In this sense, then, prayer ought to be continual. Hence S. Augustine says to Proba: "Therefore by our faith, by our hope, and by our charity, we are always praying, for our desire is continued."
But _prayer considered in itself_ cannot be so continuous; for we must needs be occupied with other things. Hence S. Augustine says in the same place: "At certain intervals, at divers hours and times, we pray to God in words so that by these outward signs of things we may admonish ourselves, and may learn what progress we have made in this same desire, and may stir ourselves up to increase it."
But the quantity of a thing has to be determined by its purpose, just as a draught has to be proportioned to the health of the man who takes it.
Consequently it is fitting that prayer should only last so long as it avails to stir up in us this fervour of interior desire. And when it exceeds this measure, and its prolongation only results in weariness, it must not be prolonged further. Hence S. Augustine also says to Proba: "The Brethren in Egypt are said to have had frequent prayers; but they were exceedingly brief, hardly more than eager ejaculations; and they adopted this method lest, if they prolonged their prayer, that vigilant attention which is requisite for prayer should lose its keen edge and become dulled. And thus they clearly show that this same attention, just as it is not to be forced if it fails to last, so neither is it to be quickly broken off if it does last."
And just as we have to pay attention to this in our private prayers, and have to be guided by our powers of attention, so must we observe the same principles in public prayer where we have to be governed by the people's devotion.
Some, however, argue that our prayers ought not to be continual, thus: 1. Our Lord said[225]: _And when you are praying speak not much_. But it is not easy to see how a man can pray long without "speaking much"; more especially if it is a question of vocal prayer.
But S. Augustine says to Proba: "To prolong our prayer does not involve 'much-speaking.' 'Much-speaking' is one thing; the unceasing desire of the heart is another. Indeed we are told of the Lord Himself that _He passed the whole night in the prayer of God_[226]; and, again, that _being in an agony He prayed the longer_,[227] and this that He might afford us an example." And Augustine adds a little later: "Much speaking in prayer is to be avoided, but not much petition, if fervent attention lasts. For 'much-speaking' in prayer means the use of superfluous words when we pray for something necessary; but much petition means that with unceasing and devout stirrings of the heart we knock at His door to Whom we pray; and this is often a matter rather of groans than of words, of weeping than of speaking."
2. Further, prayer is but the unfolding of our desires. But our desires are holy in proportion as they are confined to one thing, in accordance with those words of the Psalmist[228]: _One thing I have asked of the Lord, this will I seek after._ Whence it would seem to follow that our prayers are acceptable to God just in proportion to their brevity.
But to prolong our prayer does not mean that we ask for many things, but that our hearts are continuously set upon one object for which we yearn.
3. Once more, it is unlawful for a man to transgress the limits which God Himself has fixed, especially in matters which touch the Divine worship, according to the words: _Charge the people lest they should have a mind to pass the limits to see the Lord, and a very great multitude of them should perish_.[229] But God Himself has assigned limits to our prayer by instituting the _Lord's Prayer_, as is evident from the words: _Thus shalt thou pray_.[230] Hence we ought not to extend our prayer beyond these limits.
But our Lord did not institute this prayer with a view to tying us down exclusively to these words when we pray, but to show us that the scope of our prayer should be limited to asking only for the things contained in it, whatever form of words we may use or whatever may be our thoughts.
4. And lastly, with regard to the words of our Lord _that we ought always to pray and not to faint_,[231] and those of S. Paul, _Pray without ceasing_,[232] we must remark that a man prays without ceasing, either because of the unceasing nature of his desire, as we have above explained; or because he does not fail to pray at the appointed times; or because of the effect which his prayer has, whether upon himself--since even when he has finished praying he still remains devout--or upon others, as, for instance, when a man by some kind action induces another to pray for him whereas he himself desists from his prayer.
"Our soul waiteth for the Lord; for He is our helper and protector. For in Him our hearts shall rejoice; and in His Holy Name we have trusted. Let Thy mercy, O Lord, be upon us, as we have hoped in Thee."[233] XV Is Prayer Meritorious?
On the words of the Psalmist, _My prayer shall be turned into my bosom_,[234] the interlinear Gloss has: "And if it is of no profit to them (for whom it is offered), at least I myself shall not lose my reward." A reward, however, can only be due to merit. Prayer, then, is meritorious.
* * * * * As we have said above, prayer has, besides the effect of spiritual consolation which it brings with it, a twofold power regarding the future: the power, namely, of meriting, and that of winning favours. But prayer, as indeed every other virtuous act, derives its power of meriting from that root which is charity, and the true and proper object of charity is that Eternal Good, the enjoyment of Which we merit. Now prayer proceeds from charity by means of the virtue of religion whose proper act is prayer; there accompany it, however, certain other virtues which are requisite for a good prayer--namely, faith and humility. For it belongs to the virtue of religion to offer our prayers to God; while to charity belongs the desire of that the attainment of which we seek in prayer. And faith is necessary as regards God to Whom we pray; for we must, of course, believe that from Him we can obtain what we ask.
Humility, too, is called for on the part of the petitioner, for he must acknowledge his own needs. And devotion also is necessary; though this comes under religion of which it is the first act, it conditions all subsequent effects.
And its power of obtaining favours prayer owes to the grace of God to Whom we pray, and Who, indeed, induces us to pray. Hence S. Augustine says[235]: "He would not urge us to ask unless He were ready to give"; and S. Chrysostom says: "He never refuses His mercies to them who pray, since it is He Who in His loving-kindness stirs them up so that they weary not in prayer."
* * * * * But some say that prayer cannot be meritorious, thus: 1. Merit proceeds from grace, but prayer precedes grace, since it is precisely by prayer that we win grace: _Your Father from Heaven will give the Good Spirit to them that ask Him_.[236] But prayer, like any other virtuous act, cannot be meritorious without that grace which makes us pleasing to God. Yet even that prayer which wins for us the grace which renders us pleasing to God must proceed from some grace--that is, from some gratuitous gift; for, as S. Augustine says, to pray at all is a gift of God.[237] 2. Again, prayer cannot be meritorious, for if it were so it would seem natural that prayer should especially merit that for which we actually pray. Yet this is not always the case, for even the prayers of the Saints are often not heard; S. Paul, for example, was not heard when he prayed that the sting of the flesh might be taken away from him.[238] But we must notice that the merit of our prayers sometimes lies in something quite different from what we beg for. For whereas merit is to be especially referred to the possession of God, our petitions in our prayers at times refer directly to other things, as we have pointed out above. Consequently, if what a man asks for will not tend to his ultimate attainment of God, he does not merit it by his prayer; sometimes, indeed, by asking and desiring such a thing he may lose all merit, as, for example, if a man were to ask of God something which was sinful and which he could not reverently ask for. Sometimes, however, what he asks for is not necessary for his salvation, nor yet is it clearly opposed to his salvation; and when a man so prays he may by his prayer merit eternal life, but he does not merit to obtain what he actually asks for. Hence S. Augustine says[239]: "He who asks of God in faith things needful for this life is sometimes mercifully heard and sometimes mercifully not heard.
For the physician knows better than the patient what will avail for the sick man." It was for this reason that Paul was not heard when he asked that the sting of the flesh might be taken away--it was not expedient. But if what a man asks for will help him to the attainment of God, as being something conducive to his salvation, he will merit it, and that not only by praying for it but also by doing other good works; hence, too, he undoubtedly will obtain what he asks for, but when it is fitting that he should obtain it: "for some things are not refused to us but are deferred, to be given at a fitting time," as S.
Augustine says.[240] Yet even here hindrance may arise if a man does not persevere in asking; hence S. Basil says[241]: "When then you ask and do not receive, this is either because you asked for what you ought not, or because you asked without lively faith, or carelessly, or for what would not profit you, or because you ceased to ask." And since a man cannot, absolutely speaking, merit eternal life for another, nor, in consequence, those things which belong to eternal life, it follows that a man is not always heard when he prays for another. For a man, then, always to obtain what he asks, four conditions must concur: he must ask for himself, for things necessary for salvation; he must ask piously and perseveringly.
3. Lastly, prayer essentially reposes upon faith, as S. James says: _But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering_.[242] But faith is not sufficient for merit, as is evident in the case of those who have faith without charity. Therefore prayer is not meritorious.
But while it is true that prayer rests principally upon faith, this is not for its power of meriting--for as regards this it rests principally on charity--but for its power of winning favours; for through faith man knows of the Divine Omnipotence and Mercy whence prayer obtains what it asks.
* * * * * _S. Augustine:_ Men, then, love different things, and when each one seemeth to have what he loves, he is called happy. But a man is truly happy, not if he has what he loves, but if he loves what ought to be loved. For many become more wretched through having what they love than they were when they lacked it. Miserable enough through loving harmful things, more miserable through having them. And our Merciful God, when we love amiss, denies us what we love; but sometimes in His anger He grants a man what he loves amiss!...But when we love what God wishes us to love, then, doubtless, He will give it us. This is That One Thing Which ought to be loved: that we may dwell in the House of the Lord all the days of our life! (_Enarr. in Ps._ xxvi.).
_S. Augustine:_ In those tribulations, then, which can both profit us and harm us, we know not what we should pray for as we ought. Yet none the less since they are hard, since they are vexatious, since, too, they are opposed to our sense of our own weakness, mankind with one consent prays that they may be removed from us. But we owe this much devotion to the Lord our God that, if He refuses to remove them, we should not therefore fancy that we are neglected by Him, but, while bearing these woes with devout patience, we should hope for some greater good, for thus is power perfected in infirmity. Yet to some in their impatience the Lord God grants in anger what they ask, just as in His mercy He refused it to the Apostle (_Ep._ cxxx. _ad Probam_).
"Hear my prayer, O Lord, and my supplication; give ear to my tears. Be not silent: for I am a stranger with Thee, and a sojourner as all my fathers were. O forgive me, that I may be refreshed; before I go hence, and be no more."[243] XVI Do Sinners gain Anything From God by their Prayers?
S. Augustine says[244]: "If God did not hear sinners, in vain would the publican have said, _God be merciful to me a sinner_"; and S. Chrysostom says[245]: "_Every one that asketh receiveth_--that is, whether he be just man or sinner." Hence the prayers of sinners do win something from God.