Christ's life on earth. Misfortune could not reach Him; He had no
fortune. Food, raiment, money--fountain-heads of half the world's
weariness--He simply did 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, nor 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.