";[17] but with genuine, honest fatigue, taking amusement as he
takes sleep, and going back from it with a joyous rebound to his
special weedy corner in the vineyard.

"I know I am getting rested," I heard a minister once say in his
vacation, "for I am getting hungry for my work!"

"My people have forgotten their resting place"--let it not ever be said
of you and me.

But it is those not merely "planted in the courts of the Lord," but who
"flourish" there, that are the trees whose "leaf shall not wither"; and
in this you have the whole story. A Christian who is _flourishing_
where he belongs, will never go where he does _not_ belong. And no one
who is dwelling daily in the clear sunshine of Christ's presence, will
need a dance to enliven him, or a horse race--or a walking match--to
keep up his interest in life. There will be "melody in his heart"
without the opera; and life will be full and bright and strong, without
a speck of tinsel pleasure. Work will be sweet, and play will be
joyous; and by one and by the other the man will _grow_--

"Grow, like the cedar in Lebanon."

Now that you may prove all this, that you may begin right, be careful
to take the full good of all the ordered resting times: to wit, the
Sundays. I wish all tired people did but know the infinite rest there
is in fencing off the six days from the seventh. In anchoring the
business ships of your daily life as the Saturday draws to its close,
leaving them to ride peacefully upon the flow or the ebb until Monday
morning comes again. O the delight, the lull, of feeling: "No need to
settle this question--no need to think of this piece of work--for a
whole long, sweet thirty-six hours!" Why do you take Sunday papers, to
keep your nerves astir with business on the Lord's own day of rest?
Why do you add up and consult and consider in the pauses of the sermon,
or make opportunity for a business whisper in the porch, and on the way
home? Why do you let the perplexities of servants, of means, of plans,
ruffle your spirits on the one great day of freedom? Do not you know
that even a debtor may walk abroad on Sunday, with no fear of a prison;
and house doors may stand open, and no sheriff can enter. Shall it be
worse with your mind than with your body?

"Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,
Of earth and folly born,"--

It is the high court of the Prince of Peace.

"Rest on Sunday!"--I hear some earnest worker cry. "Why Sunday is the
h