was the eleventh hour in the flight of time. Thankful ought we be that the Lord of the vineyard never sought in vain — that in every age there were some, at least, who hearkened to His voice and turned to His service. True, many in every age did not respond, but the noise of the market-place is deafening; the calls of worldly cares are numerous and loud, and drown the voice of God. Are such men lost? No; God forbid! Ask such a one: " Why stand you here all the day idle? " and he will reply: " Because no man hath hired me." Because, that is, he had not heard God's call, or though it echoed in his ears, it failed to reach his mind and heart. There are here to-day eyes that weep and hearts that ache for loved ones that do not, will not, hear; but be not disheartened. A change will come. Proud Wolsey in adversity turns penitently to God, and many a worldly soul is led at last to say as penitently: " Would that I had served my God with half the zeal wherewith I served the world." When affliction draws us from out the din and uproar of the world, and when, like wounded animals, we hide ourselves away and feel around us the awful stillness of approaching death, the voice of God sounds plainer, the works of years are crowded into a few moments of intense, agonized repentance, and whereas we were last, we become first, and whereas we were not even deemed among the called, we are now among the very chosen.
Brethren, labor is a necessary condition of life, but it is ours to choose which shall be our master, God or the world. By the service of the world I mean any-
