There is one class, they are "too young to be religious. Youth is the time of gayety. Even if they do not sow wild oats, they must have their pleasure. As they advance in years, they will eventually grow more serious." Let me caution you, my young hearers! Of all other seasons, youth is the fittest for God and godliness. No man ever became more disposed to be religious by mere age. He may become more thoughtful and serious, but thoughtfulness and seriousness is not yet religion. The duty enjoined is: "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth," and it is a solemn fact that the greater number of those who are Christians indeed have been so in early life.--So be not deceived! The present time is the most convenient season. You can never enjoy a better. Another apology and hindrance which multitudes offer against the convenient season is what they style "business." I suppose Felix had occasion to offer that, too. The office of a governor was no lazy one; he had a large docket of pending cases, a considerable correspondence, many distracting cares. Correspondingly, at the present, there be those who are occupied in providing for their wants, gaining a livelihood for their families, accumulating a fortune. It is impossible for them just now, but in a few years they will have more leisure; their property will be greater, their anxiety lessened, and then, relieved of pressing cares, they will devote their time and their attention to God's service. Sad mistake! Business never lets up. The world gives no man leisure for the consideration of the greater business of salvation. I have known those who have urged this excuse ten, nearly twenty years ago; they still urge it, and will continue to do so so long as they live. Some may regard it as a witticism, but it was immensely serious when a child recently informed its mother that the child did not think papa was going to heaven, and asked why, replied, "He can't possibly leave the store." We have a number of that class in connection with our membership. It is a sorry business that keeps any man away from the main business, the one thing needful.