One of the blessings of the old-time Sabbath was its calm, its restfulness, its holy peace.
There is a strange strength conceived in solitude.
Crows go in flocks and wolves in packs, but the lion and the eagle are solitaires.
Strength is not in bluster and noise.
Strength is in quietness.
The lake must be calm if the heavens are to be reflected on its surface.
Our Lord loved the people...
But how often we read of His going away from them for a brief season.
He tried every little while to withdraw from the crowd.
He was always stealing away at evening to the hills.
Most of His ministry was carried on in the towns and cities by the seashore...
But He loved the hills the best...
And oftentimes when night fell He would plunge into their peaceful depths.
The one thing needed above all others today is that we shall go apart with our Lord...
And sit at His feet in the sacred privacy of His blessed presence.
Oh, for the lost art of meditation!
Oh, for the culture of the secret place!
Oh, for the tonic of waiting upon God!
It is well to live in the valley sweet, Where the work of the world is done...
Where the reapers sing in the fields of wheat, As they toil till the set of sun.
But beyond the meadows, the hills I see Where the noises of traffic cease,...
And I follow a Voice that calleth to me From the hilltop regions of peace.
Aye, to live is sweet in the valley fair, And to toil till the set of sun...
But my spirit yearns for the hilltop's air When the day and its work are done.
For a Presence breathes o'er the silent hills, And its sweetness is living yet...
The same deep calm all the hillside fills, As breathed over Olivet.
Every life that would be strong must have its Holy of Holies into which only God enters.