rought into the very
texture of man's nature the divine instinct of work. Man is made for it,
as the flower of the field is made for the free air of heaven. Shut out
from it, he grows irritable and sickly, his powers droop, his courage
fails, his hope dies, his life is a wreck. And very noble motive
inspires well-nigh the whole of human labour. Love, pure self-denying
love, love of wife, love of child, of friends, of mankind, is the moving
spring of most of man's most strenuous toil. God's work, work for God,
and for man for the love of God, is but the highest form or mode of
human labour. Man's divine work is not something essentially different
in principle from all his other work. All his best labour in his daily
tasks proceeds upon the existence within him of powers and organs which
can only find their highest exercise, and which can only justify their
lowest exercise, in the work of the vineyard which the Lord has given us
each one to do. Man is simply unmanned while he stands all the day idle
in the market-place; his goodliest powers and organs are rusting, his
blood trickles with dull stagnant motion through his lazy veins, his
whole system is oppressed and burdened, his muscles ache for exercise,
his cheek is pale, his eye is dim. The kingly being is unbraced and
discrowned; no joys or honours attend the _faineant_ king.

Who are the pitiable ones here? On whom shall we spend our regrets and
sorrows? The hardy sunburnt workmen, who have spent their strength
manfully in a brave day's work; who watch the westering sun as only the
tired labourer has the right to watch him; and who settle peacefully to
the workman's rest till the gay sunlight wakes them again to new glad
toils in a young, fresh, dewy world? Nay, the work of the vineyard is
man's honour, joy, glory, and bliss. To be called to work in it is the
crown of his manhood; to finish his work with joy is his noblest praise.
But why should it not end here? If he is to be counted blessed who works
in the vineyard, if his work gladdens, enriches, and ennobles him what
room is there for the thought of pay? What can the pennies in this case
mean?

Man is made with a large capacity, and a large thought and hope of
happiness. He can take a large blessing into his being, larger than he
can meet within his present sphere. The range of his nature takes in the
infinite and the eternal. The work is noble, glorious exercise; but God
only can fill and satisfy his spirit. M