on the things of earth there will always be part of our being like an
unfed tiger in a menagerie, growling for its prey, whilst its fellows
are satisfied for the moment. You can no more give your heart rest and
blessedness by pitching worldly things into it, than they could fill up
Chat Moss, when they made the first Liverpool and Manchester Railway, by
throwing in cartloads of earth. The bog swallowed them and was none the
nearer being filled.

No man who takes the world for his portion ever said, 'The lines are
fallen to me in pleasant places.' For the make of your soul as plainly
cries out 'God!' as a fish's fins declare that the sea is its element,
or a bird's wings mark it out as meant to soar. Man and God fit each
other like the two halves of a tally. You will never get rest nor
satisfaction, and you will never be able to look at the past with
thankfulness, nor at the present with repose, nor into the future with
hope, unless you can say, 'God is the strength of my heart, and my
portion for ever.' But oh! if you do, then you have a goodly heritage, a
heritage of still satisfaction, a heritage which suits, and gratifies,
and expands all the powers of a man's nature, and makes him ever capable
of larger and larger possession of a God who ever gives more than we can
receive, that the overplus may draw us to further desire, and the
further desire may more fully be satisfied.

The one true, pure, abiding joy is to hold fellowship with God and to
live in His love. The secret of all our unrest is the going out of our
desires after earthly things. They fly forth from our hearts like Noah's
raven, and nowhere amid all the weltering flood can find a
resting-place. The secret of satisfied repose is to set our affections
thoroughly on God. Then our wearied hearts, like Noah's dove returning
to its rest, will fold their wings and nestle fast by the throne of God.