THIS “great calm” (Matt. viii. 26) is very delightful, and concerning this I desire to bear my personal testimony. I speak from my own knowledge when I say that it passeth all understanding. I was sitting the other night, meditating on God’s mercy and love, when suddenly I found in my own heart a most delightful sense of perfect peace. I had come to Beulah-land, where the sun shines without a cloud. “There was a great calm.” I felt as mariners might do who have been tossed about in broken water, and all on a sudden, they cannot tell why, the ocean becomes as unruffled as a mirror, and the sea-birds come and sit in happy circles upon the water. I felt perfectly content, yea, undividedly happy. Not a wave of trouble broke upon the shore of my heart, and even far out at sea in the deeps of my being all was still. I knew no unqualified wish or unsatisfied desire. I could not discover a reason for uneasiness or a motive for fear. There was nothing approaching to fanaticism in my feeling; nothing even of excitement; my soul was waiting upon God; and delighting herself alone in Him. Oh! the blessedness of this rest in the Lord. What an Elysium it is. I must be allowed to say a little upon this purple island in the sea of my life: it was none other than a fragment of heaven. We often talk of our great spiritual storms; why should we not speak of our great calms. If we get into trouble, what a noise we make of it. Why should we not sing of our deliverance.—C. H. Spurgeon.