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 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-