Page:SermonsFromTheLatins.djvu/208

 stupid with  opiates,  frantic  with  remorse  for  the  past, and terror  of  the  future — to  take  that  soul  into  the presence of  its  God  to  confess  and  crave  pardon  for its sins. It is  the  second  death-agony. How remember all  those  nameless  sins? How make  good  in one  all  the  fruitless  confessions  of  the  past? How raise his  mind  and  heart  in  a  few  moments  up  from earth, aye  from  hell  itself,  up  to  the  throne  of  God? " Father,"  he  cries,  "  I  cannot  do  it;  I  cannot  go  on; God  help  me,  I  am  lost." But the  priest  encourages him by  words  of  hope  and  consolation — hope,  where he sees  but  little  hope,  and  consolation  which  he  himself does  not  feel. But at  last  the  confession  is  made, such as  it  is. " Are  you  sorry  for  your  sins? " " Father,  I  am  sorry,"  he  cries,  but  at  the  same  time the priest  feels  sure  that  were  this  man  restored  to health,  he  would  sin  the  same  sins  again,  and  the dying man  himself  seems  to  hear  the  demons  around him chant:  "When  the  devil  was  sick,  the  devil  a monk  would  be;  when  the  devil  was  well,  no  more  a monk  was  he." Nay, God  Himself  seems  to  laugh  at this  mockery,  for  from  the  Blessed  Sacrament  in  his breast the  dying  man  seems  to  hear:  "  You  come  to Me,  not  for  love  of  Me,  but  through  fear  of  hell. You  abandoned  sin  only  when  sin  abandoned  you. Almost  all  your  life  have  you  deserted  Me,  and  therefore will  I  desert  you  now  in  the  hour  of  your  need." Deserted by  God,  the  devil  seems  to  retake  possession of  him  and  urges  him  to  despair. Ah ! there was a time  long  ago,  when,  to  induce  him  to  sin,  the  devil preached him  long  sermons  on  the  ease  of  repentance