l to them to give their
lives in their morning to the true Master and Lord of life. Dr. Leslie
took for his text the scene enacted on that great morning when two
young fishermen had heard across the shining water that call which,
once truly heard by the heart's ear, cannot be resisted, "Come ye after
Me." There were young people in the church that morning who heard it
as truly as the fisher lads that far gone morning on Galilee, and as
truly obeyed it. Helen Murray listened, struggling with tears. She
had grown up in a Christian home where the influence of father and
mother were such that it was inevitable that she should early become a
disciple of the Master they served. But she had faltered in her
service since her griefs had come upon her in such a flood. She would
never have allowed herself to grow selfish over her joys but sorrow had
absorbed her. She did not realise, until this morning, that she was
growing selfish over her trouble. The tender call came again--"Come ye
after Me," sounding just as sweetly and impelling in the night of
sorrow and stress as it ever did in the joyous morning.

Roderick McRae was listening to the sermon too, but he did not hear the
Voice. For in his young, eager ears was ringing the siren song of
success. He had gone to church regularly in his absence from home,
because he knew that the weekly letter to his father would lose half
its charm did the son not give an account of the sermon he had heard
the Sabbath before. But much listening to sermons had bred in the
young man the inattentive heart, even though the ear was doing its
duty. Roderick accepted sermons and church-going good-naturedly, as a
necessary, respectable formality of life. That it must have a bearing
on all life or be utterly meaningless he did not realise. His plans
for life had nothing to do with church, and the divine call fell upon
his ears unheeded.

When the sermon was drawing to a close, Lawyer Ed scribbled something
on a scrap of paper and when he rose to take the offering he passed it
up to the minister. Lawyer Ed never in his life got through a sermon
without writing at least one note. This one was a request for St.
George's, Edinburgh, as the closing psalm. He knew it was not the one
selected, but something in the stirring words of the sermon, coupled
with his joy over his boy's return, had roused him so that nothing but
the hallelujahs of that great anthem could express his feelings.

When