To the downcast, the weary, and the sorrowful, joy and peace are rest.

Nay, further, I think that to the gay, the frivolous, the reckless, when sated with pleasures that cannot last, even sorrow proves to be rest of a kind, although, perchance, it were better that I should call it relief than rest.

There is, indeed, but one class of men to whom rest is denied.

There is no rest to the wicked.

At this I do but hint, however, as I treat not of that rest which is spiritual, but, more particularly, of that which applies to the mind and to the body.
Of this rest we stood much in need on our return home, and we found it exceedingly sweet, when we indulged in it, after completing the journey just related.