It might be asked, 'How much time shall I allow myself for

Hear now the words of George Müller, a man of faith and discipline, who declared: “It might be asked, ‘How much time shall I allow myself for rest?’ The answer is that no rule of universal application can be given, as all persons do not require the same measure of sleep, and also the same persons, at different times, according to the strength or weakness of their body, may require more or less.” These words, spoken in humility and truth, strike at the heart of human striving. For they remind us that though men seek one law to govern all, the needs of the body and spirit cannot be bound by rigid rule.

Müller’s teaching is simple yet profound: rest is not the same for every man, nor for the same man in every season. There are those whose bodies are strong, who can labor long hours with little sleep, and still rise renewed. There are others, frailer in frame, who require much rest to sustain their strength. Even the mighty must at times lay down their arms, for sickness, age, or burden may demand greater stillness. Thus, Müller reminds us of the truth the ancients knew well: that the body is a vessel, and each vessel is shaped differently, requiring its own measure of care.

Consider the wisdom of the great general Napoleon Bonaparte. History tells us that he often slept little, driving himself with unrelenting energy through campaigns and battles. Yet even he, in moments of weariness, would collapse into deep slumber whenever his body forced him to yield. His genius could defy kingdoms, but not the human need for rest. His story teaches us what Müller proclaims: no universal law of sleep can govern all, for strength and weakness ebb and flow like the tide. What sustains one today may break him tomorrow.

But there is deeper wisdom here still. For Müller speaks not merely of sleep, but of the discipline of knowing oneself. To measure your rest rightly is to know the state of your own body and spirit, and to give each what it requires. To deny yourself when weary is folly, and to indulge yourself when strong is sloth. The wise balance between the two is the mark of prudence. Just as the farmer reads the sky before planting and the sailor reads the winds before sailing, so must each soul learn to read the signals of their own flesh and spirit.

The origin of Müller’s thought lies in his life of devotion. A man who built orphanages and sustained thousands by faith alone, he knew well the demands of ceaseless labor. Yet he also knew that without rest, both body and mind falter, and the work of God suffers. His counsel is thus both practical and spiritual: rest not in laziness, but in measure; rise not in pride, but in strength renewed.

The lesson for us is this: seek no rigid rule for your body’s needs, but instead cultivate discernment. Watch yourself with honesty. When you are weak, give yourself more rest without shame. When you are strong, use your vigor with purpose and without waste. Do not compare your need for stillness with another’s, for each soul’s burden is unique, and each body’s strength is its own.

Practical actions are these: listen to the signs of your body—its fatigue, its renewal, its hunger for stillness. Create rhythms of labor and rest, honoring both as sacred. Do not despise sleep, for it is the repair of the flesh and the balm of the mind. But also do not surrender to idleness, for too much indulgence will weaken the vessel. Let each season of life teach you its own measure, and walk in balance.

Thus, O listener, let Müller’s wisdom guide you: the measure of rest is not written in stone but in the living flesh. To know it is to know yourself, and to honor it is to preserve both body and spirit. In this balance lies the strength to labor, the clarity to think, and the peace to live. For only when man learns both to strive and to rest in harmony, does he walk the path of true wisdom.