that could ruffle the surface of His spirit.
Such living, as mere living, is altogether unique. It is only when we
see what it was in Him that we can know what the word Rest means. It
lies not in emotions, or in the absence of emotions. It is not a
hallowed feeling that comes over us in church. It is not something
that the preacher has in his voice. It is not in nature, or in poetry,
or in music--though in all these there is soothing. It is the mind at
leisure from itself. It is the perfect poise of the soul; the absolute
adjustment of the inward man to the stress of all outward things; the
preparedness against every emergency; the stability of assured
convictions; the eternal calm of an invulnerable faith; the repose of
a heart set deep in God. It is the mood of the man who says, with
Browning, "God's in His Heaven, all's well with the world."
Two painters each painted a picture to illustrate his conception of
rest. The first chose for his scene a still, lone lake among the
far-off mountains. The second threw on his canvas a thundering
waterfall, with a fragile birch-tree bending over the foam; at the
fork of a branch, almost wet with the cataract's spray, a robin sat on
its nest. The first was only _Stagnation_; the last was _Rest_. For in
Rest there are always two elements--tranquillity and energy; silence
and turbulence; creation and destruction; fearlessness and
fearfulness. This it was in Christ.
It is quite plain from all this that whatever else He claimed to be or
to do, He at least