It seems to me a very comforting thought, in looking on to Future Years, if you are able to think that you are in a profession or a calling from which you will never retire.  For the prospect of a total change in your mode of life, and the entire cessation of the occupation which for many years employed the greater part of your waking thoughts, and all this amid the failing powers and flagging hopes of declining years, is both a sad and a perplexing prospect to a thoughtful person.  For such a person cannot regard this great change simply in the light of a rest from toil and worry; he will know quite well what a blankness and listlessness and loss of interest in life will come of feeling all at once that you have nothing at all to do.  And so it is a great blessing, if your vocation be one which is a dignified and befitting one for an old man to be engaged in, one that beseems his gravity—­and his long experience, one that beseems even his slow movements and his white hairs.  It is a pleasant thing to see an old man a judge; his years become the judgment-seat.  But then the old man can hold such an office only while he retains strength of body and mind efficiently to perform its duties; and he must do all his work for himself:  and accordingly a day must come when the venerable Chancellor resigns the Great Seal; when the aged Justice or Baron must give up his place; and when these honored Judges, though still retaining considerable vigor, but vigor less than enough for their hard work, are compelled to feel that their occupation is gone.  And accordingly I hold that what is the best of all professions, for many reasons, is especially so for this, that you need never retire from it.  In the Church you need not do all your duty yourself.  You may get assistance to supplement your own lessening strength.  The energetic young curate or curates may do that part of the parish work which exceeds the power of the aging incumbent, while the entire parochial machinery has still the advantage of being directed by his wisdom and experience, and while the old man is still permitted to do what he can with such strength as is spared to him, and to feel that he is useful in the noblest cause yet.  And even to extremest age and frailty,—­to age and frailty which would long since have incapacitated the judge for the bench,—­the parish clergyman may take some share in the much-loved duty in which he has labored so long.  He may still, though briefly, and only now and then, address his flock from the pulpit, in words which his very feebleness will make far more touchingly effective than the most vigorous eloquence and the richest and fullest tones of his young coadjutors.  There never will be, within the sacred walls, a silence and reverence more profound than when the withered kindly face looks as of old upon the congregation, to whose fathers its owner first ministered, and which has grown up mainly under his instruction,—­and when the voice that falls familiarly on so many ears tells again,