If I could hand you each a
piece of paper and a pencil this day, there is one description of
yourself which each of you might write, one occupation which would
include you all, the old, the young, the rich and the poor. Each of you,
without exception, might write this--_I am a servant_.
'I, the speaker, am a servant; you who listen, all of you, are
servants.'
'Well, I don't know how he is going to make that out,' I said to myself.
'I thought he was going to say we were all sinners, and _that_, I
suppose, we are, but _servants_! I do not believe I am anybody's
servant.'
'All servants,' he went on, 'but not all in the same service. As God and
the angels look down upon this green to-day they see gathering together
a great company of servants, but they also see that we are not all
servants of the same master. They see what we do not see, a dividing
line between us. On one side of the line God sees, and the angels see,
one company of servants--and in God's book He gives us the name of their
master--_Servants of sin_.
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