The Secret of Peace

11 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters; He restoreth my soul.” — Ps. xxiii. 2, 3.

One is apt to say, it was an easy thing for a man with such an experience to confess the Lord to be his Shepherd; who would not rejoice in a God who should make him to lie down in green pastures? Yet, in truth, he who says thus has not sounded the depths of his own being. No man can lie down anywhere until he has received a restored soul. It is as difficult for the unrestored soul to lie down in green pastures as to lie down in barren wastes.

Thinkest thou that an unrestful heart will have more rest in prosperity than in adversity? Nay, verily, it will carry itself into everything. Prosperity lies not in the greenness of the pastures, adversity lies not in the barrenness of the wastes; they both lie within. The joyous heart will make all things joyful; its pastures will all be green, and its waters will all be quiet. The restless heart will make all things unrestful; the very calmness of its outward world will become its source of pain. We cannot fly from ourselves by changing our circumstances; we can only change our circumstances by flying from ourselves. The sweetness and the bitterness of life are alike within us, and we shall get from the world just what we bring to it. Therefore, my soul, if thou wouldst have green pastures, if thou wouldst have quiet waters, if thou wouldst have any spot at all wherein thou canst lie down and rest, then must thou thyself be first restored. Thou must be set at rest from thine own selfishness ere any place can be to thee a scene of repose. Thou must thyself be filled ere the fulness of the earth can be thine, yea, ere the emptiness of the earth can be thine. Thou hast a claim to the earth’s emptiness as well as to its fulness. If thou art at rest all things are thine — the world, life, death, angels, principalities, powers; thou canst claim them as thy possessions, thou canst command them as thy servants. The winds are thy messengers, the fires are thy ministers, the clouds are thy chariots; thou canst extract joy out of sorrow. Thou shalt sleep in the ship of life when the storm is raoino; around thee. Thou shalt spread thy table in peace in the presence of thine enemies, and shalt fail to perceive their enmity. Thy calm shall reflect itself. Thou shalt see it mirrored in the face of creation, and the face of creation shall to thee be beautiful; it shall answer back thy smile. All the days of thy life goodness and mercy shall follow thee when thou thyself hast been restored.