son of perdition," was at that moment on his way "to his own
place!"

And thus it is with many a man in the hour of temptation. The voice of
sin speaks not loudly, but whispers to his inner spirit. He pursues
his path of evil without alarm being given by sight or sound from
heaven or earth. There is nothing in the world without to disturb the
thoughts and purposes of the world within his false and unprincipled
soul. The moment of his life brings the temptation, and he yields his
soul to its power, and the moment passes with as noiseless a step;
and soon the last moment comes, and passes away; but he too has
noiselessly passed away with it "to his own place!"

The "moment in life" when we are called upon to perform some positive
duty, is one which is often very critical and full of solemn
consequences to us. The duty may _appear_ to be a very trifling
one,--such as writing a letter, visiting a friend, warning some
brother against evil, aiding another, or sympathising with a sufferer
in his sorrow. But whatever the work may be, and in whatever way it is
to be performed, whether by word or deed, by silence or by speech,
yet there is a time given us for doing it, very brief perhaps,
and unaccompanied by any sign to mark its significance,--a time,
nevertheless, when whatever has to be done must be done quickly, "now
or never."

Such a moment in life was that in the history of the three apostles
who accompanied our Lord, at His own request, in order to watch
with Him in His last agony. As a man, He deserved their thoughtful
presence, their watchful sympathy, when enduring the dread sorrow
which filled His cup, from realising by anticipation all that was
before Him. Thrice He came to them from the spot, not far off, where
He wrestled in prayer with His terrible agony.

Thrice He found them asleep. "What!" he asked, "could ye not watch
with me one hour?" Ah! they knew not what an hour that was!--what it
was to Him--what it was and might have been to them! They might have
had the joy, the exalted privilege, which for ever would have been as
a very heaven of glory in their memory, of sharing, through the power
of sympathising love, the burden of their Lord's anguish. But they
yielded to the flesh, and permitted that moment of time to pass; and
when they at last roused themselves from their slumber, it was too
late. That moment in life had come and gone, and could return no more.
"Sleep on, and take your rest; behold, he who