All men are seeking, in a way better or worse, this same peace and rest.  Some seek it objectively in mere outward activity.  They are not unfrequently frivolous and ill-furnished within, seeking rest by travelling, by running from place to place, from company to company, changing ever their sky but never themselves.  Such persons, deeply to be pitied, seek by dress to hide the nakedness of their souls, or by the gayety of their own prattle to chill the fire which burns away their hearts.  The merriest faces may be sometimes seen in mourning coaches; and so, the most melancholy souls, pinched and pining, sometimes stare at you out of the midst of superficial smiles and light laughter.

Others seek rest in more adventurous action.  Such are mariners, soldiers, merchants, speculators, politicians, travellers, impelled to adventurous life to relieve the aching void in their hearts.  The hazards of trade, the changes of political life, cause them to forget themselves, and so they are rocked into oblivion of internal disquiet by the toss of the ocean waves.  They forget the hollowness of their own hearts, and cheat themselves into the belief that they are on their way to peace.

Is peace, is rest, so longed for, then, never to be found?  Yes! it has been found, though perhaps but seldom, and somewhat imperfectly.  That is a state of rest for the soul when all man’s powers work harmoniously together, none conflicting with another, none hindering another.  This rest is complete when every special power in man’s nature is active, and works towards some noble end, free to act, yet acting entirely in harmony, each with all, and all with each.  That is what may be called self-command, self-possession, tranquillity, peace, rest for the soul.  It is not indifference, it is not sluggishness; it is not sleep:  it is activity in its perfect character and highest mode.

Some few men seem born for this.  Their powers are well-balanced.  But to most it comes only by labour and life-struggle.  Most men, and above all, most strong men, are so born and organized, that they feel the riddle of the world, and they have to struggle with themselves.  At first they are not well-balanced.  One part of their nature preponderates over another, and they are not in equilibrium.  Like the troubled sea, they cannot rest.  The lower powers and propensities must be brought into subjection to the higher.  All the powers must be brought into harmony.  This requires correct views of life, knowledge of the truth, a strong will, a resolute purpose, a high idea, a mind that learns by experience to correct its wrongs.  Thus he acquires the mastery over himself, and his passions become his servants, which were formerly masters.  Reason prevails over feeling, and duty over impulse.  If he has lost a friend, he does not mourn inconsolably, nor seek to forget that friend.  He turns his thoughts more frequently to where that friend has gone, and so he goes on until it becomes to him a loss no longer, but rather a gain—­a son, daughter, brother, or wife, immortal in the kingdom of God, rather than mortal and perishing on earth.  Gradually he acquires a perfect command of himself, an equilibrium of all his active powers, and so is at rest.