by 'the heart and mind'?
Not, as the English reader might suppose, two different faculties, the
emotional and the intellectual--which is what we usually roughly mean by
our distinction between heart and mind--but, as is always the case in
the Bible, the 'heart' means the whole inner man, whether considered as
thinking, willing, purposing, or doing any other inward act; and the
word rendered 'mind' does not mean another part of human nature, but
the whole products of the operations of the heart. The Revised Version
renders it by 'thoughts,' and that is correct if it be given a wide
enough application, so as to include emotions, affections, purposes, as
well as 'thoughts' in the narrower sense. The whole inner man, in all
the extent of its manifold operations, that indwelling peace of God will
garrison and guard.

So note, however profound and real that Divine peace is, it is to be
enjoyed in the midst of warfare. Quiet is not quiescence. God's peace is
not torpor. The man that has it has still to wage continual conflict,
and day by day to brace himself anew for the fight. The highest energy
of action is the result of the deepest calm of heart; just as the motion
of this solid, and, as we feel it to be, immovable world, is far more
rapid through the abysses of space, and on its own axis, than any of the
motions of the things on its surface. So the quiet heart, 'which moveth
altogether if it move at all,' rests whilst it moves, and moves the more
swiftly because of its unbroken repose. That peace of God, which is
peace militant, is unbroken amidst all conflicts. The wise old Greeks
chose for the protectress of Athens the goddess of Wisdom, and whilst
they consecrated to her the olive branch, which is the symbol of peace,
they set her image on the Parthenon, helmed and spear-bearing, to defend
the peace, which she brought to earth. So this heavenly Virgin, whom the
Apostle personifies here, is the 'winged sentry, all skilful in the
wars,' who enters into our hearts and fights for us to keep us in
unbroken peace.

It is possible day by day to go out to toil and care and anxiety and
change and suffering and conflict, and yet to bear within our hearts
the unalterable rest of God. Deep in the bosom of the ocean, beneath the
region where winds howl and billows break, there is calm, but the calm
is not stagnation. Each drop from these fathomless abysses may be raised
to the surface by the power of the sunbeams, expanded there by