Rest, Rest

Delivered on Lord's-day Morning, January 8th, 1871, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and
lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is
easy, and my burden is light."–Matthew 11:28-30.

WE have oft repeated those memorable words, and they have brought us
much comfort; but it is possible that we may never have looked deeply
into them, so as to have seen the fulness of their meaning. The works
of man will seldom bear close inspection. You shall take a needle which
is highly polished, which appears to be without the slightest
inequality upon its surface, and you shall put it under a microscope,
and it will look like a rough bar of iron; but you shall select what
you will from nature, the bark or the leaf of a tree, or the wing or
the foot of an insect, and you shall discover no flaw, magnify it as
much as you will, and gaze upon it as long as you please. So take the
words of man. The first time you hear them they will strike you; you
may hear them again and still admire their sentiment, but you shall
soon weary of their repetition, and call them hackneyed and
over-estimated. The words of Jesus are not so, they never lose their
dew, they never become threadbare. You may ring the changes upon his
words, and never exhaust their music: you may consider them by day and
by night, but familiarity shall not breed contempt. You shall beat them
in the mortar of contemplation, with the pestle of criticism, and their
perfume shall but become the more apparent. Dissect, investigate, and
weigh the Master's teaching word by word, and each syllable will repay
you. When loitering upon the Island of Liddo, off Venice, and listening
to the sound of the city's bells, I thought the music charming as it
floated across the lagune; but when I returned to the city, and sat
down in the centre of the music, in the very midst of all the bells,
the sweetness changed to a horrible clash, the charming sounds were
transformed into a maddening din; not the slightest melody could I
detect in any one bell, while harmony in the whole company of
noisemakers was out of the question. Distance had lent enchantment to
the sound. The words of poets and eloquent writers may, as a whole, and
heard from afar, sound charmingly enough; but how few of them bear a
near and minute investigation! Their belfry rings passably, but one
would soon weary of each separate bell. It is never so with the divine
words of Jesus. You hear them ringing from afar and they are sweetness
itself. When as a sinner, you roamed at midnight like a traveller lost
on the wilds, how sweetly did they call you home! But now you have
reached the house of mercy, you sit and listen to each distinct note of
love's perfect peal, and wonderingly feel that even angelic harps
cannot excel it.

We will, this morning, if we can, conduct you into the inner chambers
of out text, place its words under the microscope, and peer into the
recesses of each sentence. We only wish our microscope were of a
greater magnifying power, and our ability to expound the text more
complete; for there are mines of instruction here. Superficially read,
this royal promise has cheered and encouraged tens of thousands, but
there is a wealth in it which the diligent digger and miner shall alone
discover. Its shallows are cool and refreshing for the lambs, but in
its depths are pearls for which we hope to dive.

Our first head, this morning, is rest: "Come unto me, all ye that labor
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The second head is
rest: "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly
in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls."

I. Let us begin at the beginning with the first REST, and here we will
make divisions only for the sake of bringing out the sense more
clearly.

1. Observe the person invited to receive this first rest: "Come unto
me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden." The word "all" first
demands attention: "All ye that labor." There was need for the
insertion of that wide word. Had not the Saviour said a little before,
"I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast
hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them to
babes?" Some one who had been listening to the Saviour, might have
said, "The Father, then, has determined to whom he will reveal the
Christ; there is a number chosen, according to the Father's good
pleasure, to whom the gospel is revealed; while from another company it
is hidden!" The too hasty inference, which it seems natural for man to
draw from the doctrine is, "Then there is no invitation for me; there
is no hope for me; I need not listen to the gospel's warnings and
invitations." So the Saviour, as if to answer that discouraging notion,
words his invitation thus, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are
heavy laden." Let it not be supposed that election excludes any of you
from the invitation of mercy; all of you who labor, are bidden to come.
Whatever the great doctrine of predestination may involve, rest assured
that it by no means narrows or diminishes the extent of gospel
invitations. The good news is to be preached to "every creature" under
heaven, and in this particular passage it is addressed to all the
laboring and heavy laden.

The description of the person invited is very full. It describes him
both actively and passively. "All ye that labor"–there is the activity
of men bearing the yoke, and ready to labor after salvation; "heavy
laden"–there is the passive form of their religious condition, they
sustain a burden, and are pressed down, and sorely wearied by the load
they bear. There are to be found many who are actively engaged in
seeking salvation; they believe that if they obey the precepts of the
law they will be saved, and they are endeavoring to the utmost to do
them; they have been told that the performance of certain rites and
ceremonies will also save them, they are performing those with great
care; the yoke is on their shoulders, and they are laboring diligently.
Some are laboring in prayer, some are laboring in sacraments, others in
self-denials and mortifications, but as a class they are awakened to
feel the need of salvation, and they are intensely laboring to save
themselves. It is to these the Saviour addresses his loving admonition:
in effect he tells them, "This is not the way to rest, your
self-imposed labors will end in disappointment; cease your wearisome
exertions, and believe in me, for I will at once give you rest–the
rest which my labors have earned for believers." Very speedily those
who are active in self-righteously working for salvation fall into the
passive state, and become burdened; their labor of itself becomes a
burden to them. Besides the burden of their self-righteous labor, there
comes upon them the awful, tremendous, crushing burden of past sin, and
a sense of the wrath of God which is due to that sin. A soul which has
to bear the load of its own sin, and the load of divine wrath, is
indeed heavily laden. Atlas with the world upon his back had a light
load compared with a sinner upon whom mountains of sin and wrath are
piled. Such persons frequently are burdened, in addition, by fears and
apprehensions; some of them correct, others of them baseless, but
anyhow the burden daily grows. Their active labors do not diminish
their passive sufferings. The acute anguish of their souls will often
be increased in proportion as their endeavors are increased; and while
they hope at first that if they labor industriously they will gradually
diminish the mass of their sin, it happens that their labor adds to
their weariness beneath its pressure; they feel a weight of
disappointment, because their labor has not brought them rest; and a
burden of despair, because they fear that deliverance will never come.
Now these are the persons whom the Saviour calls to himself–those who
are actively seeking salvation, those who are passively bearing the
weight of sin and of divine wrath.

It is implied, too, that these are undeserving of rest, for it is said,
"Come unto me, and I will give you rest." A gift is not of merit but of
grace; wages and reward are for those who earn, but a gift is a matter
of charity. O you who feel your unworthiness this morning, who have
been seeking salvation earnestly, and suffering the weight of sin,
Jesus will freely give to you what you cannot earn or purchase, he will
give it as an act of his own free, rich, sovereign mercy; and he is
prepared, if you come to him, to give it to you now, for so has he
promised, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I
will give you rest."

2. Notice next, the precept here laid down: "Come." It is not "Learn,"
it is not "Take my yoke"–that is in the next verse, and is intended
for the next stage of experience-but in the beginning the word of the
Lord is, "Come unto me," "Come." A simple word, but very full of
meaning. To come is to leave one thing and to advance to another. Come,
then, ye laboring and heavy laden, leave your legal labors, leave your
self-reliant efforts, leave your sins, leave your presumptions, leave
all in which you hitherto have trusted, and come to Jesus, that is,
think of, advance towards, rely upon the Saviour. Let your
contemplations think of him who bore the load of human sin upon the
cross of Calvary, where he was made sin for us. Let your minds consider
him who from his cross hurled the enormous mass of his people's
transgressions into a bottomless sepulchre, where it was buried
forever. Think of Jesus, the divinely-appointed substitute and
sacrifice for guilty man. Then, seeing that he is God's own Son, let
faith follow your contemplation; rely upon him, trust in him as having
suffered in your stead, look to him for the payment of the debt which
is due from you to the wrath of God. This is to come to Jesus.
Repentance and faith make up this "Come"–the repentance which leaves
that place where you now stand, the faith which comes into reliance
upon Jesus.

Observe, that the command to "Come" is put in the present tense, and in
the Greek it is intensely present. It might be rendered something like
this: "Hither to me all ye that labor and are heavy laden!" It is a
"Come" which means not "Come to-morrow or next year," but "Now, at
once." Advance, ye slaves, flee from your task-master now! Weary ones
recline on the promise now, and take your rest! Come now! By an act of
instantaneous faith which will bring instantaneous peace, come and rely
upon Jesus, and he will now give you rest. Rest shall at once follow
the exercise of faith. Perform the act of faith now. O may the eternal
Spirit lead some laboring heavy laden soul to come to Jesus, and to
come at this precise moment!

It is "Come unto me." Notice that. The Christ in his personality is to
be trusted in. Not "Come to John, and hear him say, "Repent, for the
kingdom of heaven is at hand,'" for no rest is there. John commands a
preparation for the rest, but he has no rest to give to the soul. Come
not to the Pharisees, who will instruct you in tradition, and in the
jots and tittles of the law; but go past these to Jesus, the man, the
God, the mediator, the Redeemer, the propitiation for human guilt. If
you want rest come to Christ in Gethsemane, to Christ on Calvary, to
Christ risen, to Christ ascended. If you want rest, O weary souls, ye
can find it nowhere until ye come and lay your burdens down at his dear
pierced feet, and find life in looking alone to him. There is the
precept then. Observe it is nothing but that one word, "Come." It is
not "Do;" it is not even "Learn." It is not, "Take up my yoke," that
will follow after, but must never be forced out of its proper place. To
obtain the first rest, the rest which is a matter of gift–all that is
asked of you is that you come to have it. Now, the least thing that
charity itself can ask when it gives away its alms, is that men come
for it. Come ye needy, come and welcome; come and take the rest ye
need. Jesus saith to you, "Come and take what I freely give." Without
money come, without merit come, without preparation come. It is just,
come, come now; come as you are, come with your burden, come with your
yoke, though the yoke be the yoke of the devil, and the burden be the
burden of sin, yet come as you are, and the promise shall be fulfilled
to you, "I will give you rest."

3. Notice next the promise spoken, "I will give you rest." "I will
give." It is a rest that is a gift; not a rest found in our experience
by degrees, but given at once. As I shall have to show you, the next
verse speaks of the rest that is found, wrought out, and discovered;
but this is a rest given. We come to Jesus; we put out the empty hand
of faith, and rest is given us at once most freely. We possess it at
once, and it is ours forever. It is a present rest, rest now; not rest
after death; not rest after a time of probation and growth and
advancement; but it is rest given when we come to Jesus, given there
and then. And it is perfect rest too; for it is not said, nor is it
implied, that the rest is incomplete. We do not read, "I will give you
partial rest," but "rest," as much as if there were no other form of
it. It is perfect and complete in itself. In the blood and
righteousness of Jesus our peace is perfect.

I shall not stay except to ask you now, brethren and sisters, whether
you know the meaning of this given rest. Have you come to Jesus and has
he given you perfect and present rest? If so, I know your eye will
catch joyously those two little words, "And I," and I would bid you
lovingly remember the promiser who speaks. Jesus promises and Jesus
performs. Did not all your rest, when first your sin was forgiven, come
from him? The load was gone, but who took it? The yoke was removed, but
who lifted it from off the shoulder? Do you not give to Jesus, this
day, the glory of all your rest from the burden of guilt? Do you not
praise his name with all your souls? Yes, I know you do. And you know
how that rest came to you. It was by his substitution and your faith in
that substitution. Your sin was not pardoned by a violation of divine
justice; justice was satisfied in Jesus; he gave you rest. The fact
that he has made full atonement is the rest of your spirit this
morning. I know that deep down in your consciences, the calm which
blesses you springs from a belief in your Lord's vicarious sacrifice.
He bore the unrest that you might have the rest, and you receive rest
this day as a free gift from him. You have done now with servile toils
and hopeless burdens, you have entered into rest through believing; but
all the rest and deliverance still comes to you as a gift from his dear
hands, who purchased with a price this blessing for your souls. I
earnestly wish that many who have never felt that rest, would come and
have it; it is all they have to do to obtain it–to come for it; just
where they now are, if God enables them to exercise a simple act of
faith in Jesus, he will give them rest from all their past sins, from
all their efforts to save themselves, a rest which shall be to his
glory and to their joy.

II. We must now advance to our second head–REST.

It looks rather strange that after having received rest, the next verse
should begin: "Take my yoke upon you." "Ah! I had been set free from
laboring, am I to be a laborer again?" Yes, yes, take my yoke and
begin. "And my burden is light." "Burden? Why, I was heavy laden just
now, am I to carry another burden?" Yes. A yoke–actively and a
burden–passively, I am to bear both of these. "But I found rest by
getting rid of my yoke and my burden!" And you are to find a further
rest by wearing a new yoke, and bearing a new burden. Your yoke galled,
but Christ's yoke is easy; your burden was heavy, but Christ's burden
is light. Before we enter into this matter more fully, let us
illustrate it. How certain it is that a yoke is essential to produce
rest, and without it rest is unknown! Spain found rest by getting rid
of that wretched monarch Isabella; an iron yoke was her dominion upon
the nation's neck, crushing every aspiration after progress by an
intolerable tyranny. Up rose the nation, shook off its yoke, and threw
aside its burden, and it had rest in a certain sense, rest from evil.
But Spain has not fully rested yet, and it seems that she will never
find permanent rest till she has voluntarily taken up another yoke, and
found for herself another burden. In a word, she must have a strong,
settled, recognized government, and then only will her distractions
cease. This is just a picture of the human soul. It is under the
dominion of Satan, it wears his awful yoke, and works for him; it bears
his accursed burden, and groans under it; Jesus sets it free–but has
it, therefore, a perfect rest? Yes, a rest from, but not a rest in.
What is wanted now is a new government; the soul must have a sovereign,
a ruling principle, a master-motive; and when Jesus has taken that
position, rest is come. This further rest is what is spoken of in the
second verse. Let me give you another symbol. A little stream flowed
through a manufacturing town; an unhappy little stream it was, for it
was forced to turn huge wheels and heavy machinery, and it wound its
miserable way through factories where it was dyed black and blue, until
it became a foul and filthy ditch, and loathed itself. It felt the
tyranny which polluted its very existence. Now, there came a deliverer
who looked upon the streamlet and said, "I will set thee free and give
thee rest." So he stopped up the water-course, and said, "abide in thy
place, thou shalt no more flow where thou art enslaved and defiled." In
a very few days the brooklet found that it had but exchanged one evil
for another. Its waters were stagnating, they were gathering into a
great pool, and desiring to find a channel. It was in its very nature
to flow on, and it foamed and swelled, and pressed against the dam
which stayed it. Every hour it grew more inwardly restless, it
threatened to break the barrier, and it made all who saw its angry
looks tremble for the mischief it would do ere long. It never found
rest until it was permitted to pursue an active course along a channel
which had been prepared for it among the meadows and the corn fields.
Then, when it watered the plains and made glad the villages, it was a
happy streamlet, perfectly at rest. So our souls are made for activity,
and when we are set free from the activities of our self-righteousness
and the slavery of our sin we must do something, and we shall never
rest until we find that something to do. Hence in the text you will be
pleased to see that there is something said about a yoke, which is the
ensign of working, and something about a burden, which is the emblem of
enduring. It is in man's mortal nature that he must do or endure, or
else his spirit will stagnate and be far from rest.

1. We will consider this second rest, and notice that it is rest after
rest. "I will give you rest" comes before "Ye shall find rest." It is
the rest of a man who is already at rest, the repose of a man who has
received a given rest, and now discovers the found rest. It is the rest
of a learner–"Learn of me, and ye shall find rest." It is not so much
the rest of one who was aforetime laboring and heavy laden, as of one
who is to-day learning at the Saviour's feet. It is the rest of a
seeker evidently, for finding usually implies a search. Having been
pardoned and saved, the saved man in the course of his experience
discovers more and more reason for peace; he is learning, and seeking,
and he finds. The rest is evidently lighted upon, however, as a thing
unknown, which becomes the subject of discovery. The man had a rest
from his burden; now he finds a rest, in Christ, which exceeds what he
asked or even thought.

I have looked at this rest after rest as being a treasure concealed in
a precious box. The Lord Jesus gives to his people a priceless casket,
called the gift of rest; it is set with brilliants and inlaid with
gems, and the substance thereof is of wrought gold; whosoever possesses
it feels and knows that his warfare is accomplished and his sin is
pardoned. After awhile the happy owner begins to examine his treasure.
It is all his own, but he has not yet seen it all, for one day he
detects a secret drawer, he touches a hidden spring, and lo! Before him
lies a priceless Koh-i-noor surpassing all the rest. It had been given
him it is certain, but he had not seen it at first, and therefore he
finds it. Jesus Christ gives us in the gift of himself all the rest we
can ever enjoy, even heaven's rest lies in him; but after we have
received him we have to learn his value, and find out by the teaching
of his Spirit the fulness of the rest which he bestows.

Now, I say to you who are saved, you who have looked to Jesus Christ,
whether you looked this morning or twenty years ago, have you found out
all that there is in the gift which Christ has given you? Have you
found out the secret drawer yet? He has given you rest, but have you
found the innermost rest which he works in your hearts? It is yours,
for it is included in the one gift; but it is not yours enjoyed,
understood, and triumphed in as yet unless you have found it, for the
rest here meant is a rest after rest, a spiritual, experienced rest,
which comes only to those who find it by experience.

2. Further observe that the rest in this second part of our text is a
rest in service. It is coupled with a yoke, for activity–"Take my
yoke;" it is connected with a burden, for endurance–"My burden is
light." He who is a Christian will not find rest in being idle. There
is no unrest greater than that of the sluggard. If you would rest take
Christ's yoke, be actively engaged in his service. As the bullock has
the yoke put upon its neck and then begins to draw, so have the yoke of
Christ put on your neck and commence to obey him. The rest of heaven is
not the rest of sleep; they serve him day and night in his temple. They
are always resting, and yet, in another sense, they rest not day nor
night. Holy activity in heaven is perfect rest. True rest to the mind
of the child of God is rest on the wing, rest in motion, rest in
service, not rest with the yoke off, but with the yoke on. We are to
enter upon this service voluntarily; we are to take his yoke upon us
voluntarily. You observe, it does not say, "Bear my yoke when it is
laid upon you, but take it." Do not need to be told by the minister,
"My dear brother, such-and-such a work you are bound to do," but take
up the yoke of your own accord. Do not merely submit to be the Lord's
servant, but seek his service. Ask, "What can I do?" Be desirous to do
it' voluntarily, cheerfully, do all that lieth in you for the extension
of his kingdom who has given you rest, and you shall find that the rest
of your soul shall lie in your doing all you can for Jesus. Every
active Christian will tell you he is never happier than when he has
much to do; and, on the whole, if he communes with Jesus, never more at
rest than when he has least leisure. Look not for your rest in the mere
enjoyments and excitements of religion, but find your rest in wearing a
yoke which you love, and which, for that reason, is easy to your neck.

But, my dear brother, you must also be willing to bear Christ's burden.
Now the burden of Christ is his cross, which every Christian must take
up. Expect to be reproached, expect to meet with some degree of the
scandal of the cross, for the offence of it never ceases. Persecution
and reproach are a blessed burden; when your soul loves Jesus it is a
light thing to suffer for him, and therefore never, by any cowardly
retirement or refusal to profess your faith, evade your share of this
honorable load. Woe unto those who say, "I will never be a martyr." No
rest is sweeter than the martyr's rest. Woe unto those who say, "We
will go to heaven by night along a secret road, and so avoid the shame
of the cross." The rest of the Christian is found not in cowardice but
in courage; it lies not in providing for ease but in the brave
endurance of suffering for the truth. The restful spirit counts the
reproach of Christ to be greater riches than all the treasures of
Egypt; he falls in love with the cross, and counts the burden light,
and so finds rest in service, and rest in suffering. Note that well.

3. The rest before us is rest through learning. Does a friend say, "I
do not see how I am ever to get rest in working, and rest in
suffering?" My dear brother, you never will except you go to school,
and you must go to school to Christ. "Learn of me," saith he, "for I am
meek and lowly in heart." Now, in order to learn of Christ it is
implied that we lay aside all prejudices of the past. These things much
prevent our finding peace. Have you any preconceived notions of what
religion should be? Have you fashioned on your own anvil ideas of what
the doctrines of the gospel ought to be? Throw them all away; learn of
Jesus, and unlearn your own thoughts.

Then, when you are willing to learn, please to note what is to be
learned. In order to get perfect rest of mind you have to learn of
Jesus not only the doctrines which he teaches, but a great deal more
than that. To go to school to be orthodox is a good enough thing, but
the orthodoxy which brings rest is an orthodoxy of the spirit. Observe
the text, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me." What? For I am wise
and learned, and can teach you? No; you are to learn from his example
to be "meek and lowly in heart," and in learning that you will "find
rest unto your souls." To catch the spirit of Jesus is the road to
rest. To believe what he teaches me is something, to acknowledge him as
my religious leader and as my Lord is much, but to strive to be
conformed to his character, not merely in its external developments but
in its interior spirit, this is the grammar of rest. Learn to be like
the meek and lowly-hearted One, and ye shall find rest.

He tells us the two points in which we are to learn of him. First, he
is meek, then he says he is lowly in heart. Take the work "meek" first.
I think that refers to the yoke-bearing, the active labor. If I
actively labor for Christ I can only find rest in the labor by
possessing the meek spirit of my Lord; for if I go forth to labor for
Christ without a meek spirit, I shall very soon find that there is no
rest in it, for the yoke will gall my shoulder. Somebody will begin
objecting that I do not perform my work according to his liking. If I
am not meek I shall find my proud spirit rising at once, and shall be
for defending myself; I shall be irritated, or I shall be discouraged
and inclined to do no more, because I am not appreciated as I should
be. A meek spirit is not apt to be angry, and does not soon take
offence, therefore if others find fault, the meek spirit goes working
on, and is not offended; it will not hear the sharp word, nor reply to
the severe criticism. If the meek spirit be grieved by some cutting
censure and suffers for a moment, it is always ready to forgive and
blot out the past, and go on again. The meek spirit in working only
seeks to do good to others; it denies itself; it never expected to be
well treated; it did not aim at being honored; it never sought itself,
but purposed only to do good to others. The meek spirit bowed its
shoulder to the yoke, and expected to have to continue bowing in order
to keep the yoke in the right place for labor. It did not look to be
exalted by yoke-bearing; it is fully contented if it can exalt Christ
and do good to his chosen ones. Remember how meek and lowly Jesus was
in all his service, and how calmly, therefore, he bore with those who
opposed him? The Samaritans would not receive him, and therefore John,
who felt the yoke a little galling to his unaccustomed shoulder, cried,
"Master, call fire from heaven." Poor John! But Christ bore the yoke of
service so well because of his meek spirit that he would do nothing of
the kind. If one village would not receive him he passed on to another,
and so labored on. Your labor will become very easy if your spirits are
very meek. It is the proud spirit that gets tired of doing good if it
finds its labors not appreciated; but the brave, meek spirit, finds the
yoke to be easy. "Consider him who endured such contradictions of
sinners against himself lest ye be weary and faint in your minds." If
ye learn his meekness his yoke will be pleasant to your shoulder, and
you will never wish to have it removed.

Then, as to the passive part of our rest-lesson, note the text, "I am
lowly in heart." We shall all have to bear something for the truth's
sake so long as we are here. The reproach is a part of the gospel. The
rod is a blessing of the covenant. The lowly heart finds the burden
very light because it acquiesces in the divine will. The lowly heart
says, "Not my will but thine be done; let God be glorified in me, it
shall be all I ask. Rich, poor, sick, or in health, it is all the same
to me. If God the great One has the glory, what matters where such a
little one as I am may be placed?" The lowly spirit does not seek after
great things for itself, it learns in whatsoever state it is therewith
to be content. If it be poor, "Never mind," says the lowly one, "I
never aspired to be rich; among the great ones of this earth I never
desired to shine." If it be denied honor, the humble spirit says, "I
never asked for earthly glory, I seek not mine own honor but his that
sent me. Why should I be honored, a poor worm like me? If nobody speaks
a good word of me, if I get Christ to say, "Well done, good and
faithful servant," that is enough. And if the lowly-hearted have little
wordly pleasure, he says, "This is not my place for pleasure, I deserve
eternal pain, and if I do not have pleasures here I shall have them
hereafter. I am well content to abide my time." Our blessed Lord was
always of that lowly spirit. He did not strive, nor cry, nor cause his
voice to be heard in the streets. The baubles of empire had no charm
for him. Had fame offered to sound her trumpet for none but him he
would have cared not one whit for the offer. The kingdoms of this world
and the glory thereof were offered him, and he repelled the tempter. He
was gentle, unobtrusive, self-denying; hence he treated his burden of
poverty and shame as a light thing. "He endured the cross, despising
the shame." If we once learn Christ's spirit we shall find rest unto
our souls.

4. But we must pass on to notice, that it is very evident that the rest
which we are to find is a rest which grows entirely out of our spirits
being conformed to the spirit of Christ. "Learn of me, and ye shall
find rest." It is then a spiritual rest altogether independent of
circumstances. It is a vain idea of ours, to suppose that if our
circumstances were altered we should be more at rest. My brother, if
you cannot rest in poverty, neither would you in riches; if you cannot
rest in the midst of persecution, neither would you in the midst of
honor. It is the spirit within that gives the rest, that rest has
little to do with any thing without. Men have sat on thrones and have
found them uneasy places, while others on the rack have declared that
they were at rest. The spirit is the spring of rest, as for the outward
surroundings they are of small account. Let but your mind be like the
mind of Christ, and you shall find rest unto your souls: a deep rest, a
growing rest, a rest found out more and more, an abiding rest, not only
which you have found, but which you shall go on to find. Justification
gave you rest from the burden of sin, sanctification will give you rest
from molesting cares; and in proportion as it becomes perfect, and you
are like your Saviour, your rest shall become more like that of heaven.

I desire one other thing to be called to your mind before I turn to the
practical use of the text, and that is that here, as in the former
rest, we are led to adore and admire the blessed person of our Lord.
Observe the words, "For I." Oh! it all comes from him still, the second
rest as much as the first, the casket and the treasure in the secret
drawer. It all hinges there, "For I am." In describing the second rest
there is more said concerning him than in the first. In the first part
of our text it only says, "I will give you rest;" but in the second
part his character is more fully explained–"For I am meek and lowly in
heart;" as if to show that as believers grow in grace, and enjoy more
rest, they see more of Jesus and know more of him. All they know when
sin is pardoned is that he gives it, perhaps they hardly know how; but
afterwards when they come to rest in him in sweet fellowship, they know
more of his personal attributes, and their rest for that very reason
becomes more deep and perfect.

Come we now to the practical use of all this. Read the chapter before
us and find the clue. First, my dear brethren, if you find rest to your
souls you will not be moved by the judgment of men. The children in the
market-place were the type of our Lord's generation, who railed both at
John the Baptist and at our Lord. The generation which now is follows
the same course, men are sure to cavil at our service. Never mind; take
Christ's yoke on you, live to serve him; take Christ's burden, make it
a point to bear all things for his sake, and you will not be affected
either by praise or censure, for you will find rest to your souls in
surrendering yourself to the Father's will. If you learn of Jesus you
will have rest from the fear of men. I recollect, before I came to
London, being at a prayer-meeting where a very quaint brother prayed
for me that I might be delivered from the "bleating of the sheep." I
understood it after awhile, he meant that I might live above the fear
of man, that when such a person said "How much we have been edified
today," I might not be puffed up; or if another said, "How dull the
discourse was to-day," I might not be depressed. You will be delivered
from "the bleating of the sheep" when you have the spirit of the Good
Shepherd.

Next you will be delivered from fretfulness at want of success. "Then
began he to upbraid the cities wherein most of his mighty works were
done, because they repented not." He had wrought his mighty works, and
preached the gospel, and they did not repent. Was Jesus discouraged?
Was he, as we sometimes are, ready to quit the work? No; his heart
rested even then. If we come to Jesus, and take his yoke and burden, we
too shall find rest, though Israel be not gathered.

Then, too, our Lord denounced judgments upon those who repented not. He
told them that those who had heard the gospel and rejected it would
find it more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment
than for them. There are some who quarrel with the judgments of God,
and declare that they cannot bear to think of the condemnation of the
impenitent. Is not this because they do not bear the burden of the
Lord, but are self-willed? The saints are described in the book of
Revelation as singing "Hallelujah" while the smoke of Babylon goeth up
for ever and ever. We shall never receive with humble faith the
judgment of God in its terror until we take Christ's yoke, and are
lowly in heart. When we are like Jesus we shall not feel that the
punishment is too much for the sin, but we shall sympathize with the
justice of God, and say "Amen" to it. When the mind is lowly it never
ventures to sit in judgment upon God, but rests in the conviction that
the Judge of all must do right. It is not even anxious to make
apologies and smooth down the fact, for it feels, it is not mine to
justify him, he can justify himself.

So, again, with regard to the divine sovereignty. Notice the rest of
the Saviour's mind upon that matter: "I thank thee, O Father, Lord of
heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and
prudent." Learning of Jesus we too shall rest in reference to divine
decrees; we shall rejoice in whatever the Lord determines;
predestination will not cast a gloom over us, but we shall thank God
for all he ordains.

What a blessed rest! As we open it up, does not its compass and depth
surprise you? How sweet to lie passive in his hands, reconciled to
every mystery, content with every dispensation, honored by every
service satisfied in God!

Now, I do not know whether I am right, but it struck me, when
considering this text from various points, that probably our Saviour
meant to convey an idea of deeper fellowship than we have yet
considered. Did not he mean this–that he carried a yoke on his
shoulder, which he calls, "my yoke?" When bullocks are yoked, there are
generally two. I have watched them in Northern Italy, and noticed that
when two are yoked together, and they are perfectly agreed, the yoke is
always easy to both of them. If one were determined to lie down and the
other to stand up, the yoke would be very uncomfortable; but when they
are both of one mind you will see them look at each other with those
large, lustrous, brown eyes of theirs so lovingly, and with a look they
read each other's minds, so that when one wants to lie down, down they
go, or when one wishes to go forward, forward they both go, keeping
step. In this way the yoke is easy. Now I think the Saviour says to us,
"I am bearing one end of the yoke on my shoulder; come, my disciple,
place your neck under the other side of it, and then learn of me. Keep
step with me, be as I am, do as I do. I am meek and lowly in heart;
your heart must be like mine, and then we will work together in blessed
fellowship, and you will find that working with me is a happy thing;
for my yoke is easy to me, and will be to you. Come, then, true
yoke-fellow, come and be yoked with me, take my yoke upon you, and
learn of me." If that be the meaning of the text, and perhaps it is, it
invites us to a fellowship most near and honorable. If it be not the
meaning of the text, it is at any rate a position to be sought after,
to be laborers together with Christ, bearing the same yoke. Such be our
lot. Amen.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Matthew 11.