The Rest of Hope

“My flesh shall rest in hope.” — PSALM XVI. 9.

There are three kinds of rest in this world — despair, possession and hope. There is a rest of despair — a stillness which comes from the sense that there is no use to strive. There is a rest of possession — a folding of the hands because we have reached the top of the hill. But there is a rest different from either — a rest of hope. It is unlike despair because it comes not from the sense of emptiness; it is unlike possession because it comes not from the sense of fulness. It is not the consciousness of defeat; it is not the triumph of victory; it is the rest of prospective joy. And I think the sleeping-draughts of hope are those my Father sends me most of all. He never sends me despair; He rarely sends me full possession; but He giveth His beloved sleep through hope. Our calmest moments are our moments of prospective joy. Why is youth so fearless amidst its dangers? It is because ot its dreams. If it saw the road on which it was going, it would stand still. But God hides the present from its eye; He shows it only to-morrow. We are all somnambulists in youth. We walk not only in a dream, but by a dream. We skirt the edge of the precipice and do not fall. If we saw it, we should fall. But our eye is far away — upon the hills delectable, upon the rivers of gold. One sight of the pitfalls that surround us would awaken us into horror; but we see only straight before us in the dream; we rest in hope.

Ever so lead me, O my God! I cannot live by the day, and live calmly. There is a ravine by my side over which I must totter if I look. The only chance for me is Thy somnambulism — walking in dreams of Thee. Send me the sleep of Thy beloved, the dream of Thy beloved! Send me the sleep of Thy Son upon the stormy sea! What made Him sleep amid the storm! Truly his flesh rested in hope, not experience. So would rest, O my Father. Lead me through the night by the vision of the morning! Guide me through the storm by dreams of the haven! Float me o’er the flood by sight of the olive leaf! Bear me above the precipice by a straight march for Thy glory! Let the angel of the future lead me into the present! Let the light of eternity prepare me for the hour! Let the sight of the Crown precede the bearing ot the Cross! Let me see Thee before I meet my brother! Let me hear the bells of the New Jerusalem ere I listen to any chimes of earth! The chimes of earth would jar on me if Thy bells did not complete their symphony. I shall only find repose when I shall “rest in hope.”