not care for; they played no part in His life; He "took no thought"
for them. It was impossible to affect Him by lowering His reputation.
He had already made Himself of no reputation. He was dumb before
insult. When he was reviled, He reviled not again. In fact, there
was

Nothing that the world could do to him

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.