Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/132

 To the  generality  of  men  nothing  is  more  melancholy  and  disagreeable than  to  find  themselves  alone,  and  obliged  to  review their own  hearts. As vain  passions  carry  us  away,  as  many  criminal attachments  stain  us,  and  as  many  thousand  illicit  desires occupy every  moment  of  our  heart,  in  entering  into  ourselves,  we find  only  an  answer  of  death,  a  frightful  void,  cruel  remorses,  dark thoughts, and  melancholy  reflections. We search,  therefore,  in the  variety  of  occupations  and  continual  distractions,  an  oblivion of ourselves:  we  dread  leisure  as  the  signal  of  weariness;  and we expect  to  find,  in  the  confusion  and  multiplicity  of  external cares, that  happy  intoxication  which  enables  us  to  go  on  without perceiving  it,  and  makes  us  no  longer  to  feel  the  weight  of ourselves.

But, alas! we deceive  ourselves:  weariness  is  never  found  but in irregularity,  and  in  a  life  of  confusion,  where  every  thing  is  out of its  place:  it  is  in  living  by  hazard  that  we  are  a  burden  to  ourselves; that  we  continually  search  after  new  occupations,  and  that disgust soon  obliges  us  to  repent  that  we  ever  sought  for  them; that we  incessantly  change  our  situation,  in  order  to  fly  from  ourselves;  and,  that  wherever  we  go,  we  carry  ourselves:  in  a  word, that our  whole  life  is  but  a  diversified  art  to  shun  weariness,  and a miserable  talent  to  find  it. Wherever order  is  not,  weariness must necessarily  be  found;  and,  far  from  a  life  of  irregularity  and confusion being  a  remedy,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the  most  fruitful source and  universal  cause  of  it.

The just  souls  who  live  in  regularity;  they  who  yield  nothing to caprice  and  temper,  whose  every  occupation  is  exactly  where it ought  to  be,  whose  moments  are  filled  up,  according  to  their destination, and  to  the  will  of  the  Lord  who  directs  them,  find,  in order,  a  perfect  remedy  against,  and  protection  from,  weariness. That wise  uniformity  in  the  practice  of  duties  which  appear  so gloomy  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  is  the  source  of  their  joy,  and  of that  happy  equality  of  temper,  which  nothing  can  derange:  never embarrassed with  the  present  time  which  stated  duties  occupy; never in  pain  with  regard  to  the  future,  for  which  new  duties  are arranged; never  delivered  up  to  themselves  by  the  change  of  occupations which  succeed  each  other;  their  days  appear  as  moments, because every  moment  is  in  its  place;  time  hangs  not  upon  them, because it  always  has  its  distinction  and  use;  and,  in  the  arrangement of  an  uniform  and  occupied  life,  they  find  that  peace  and  that joy which  the  rest  of  men  in  vain  search  for  in*  the  confusion  of  a continual  agitation.

Restlessness, by  multiplying  our  occupations,  leaves  us  therefore a prey  to  weariness  and  disgust;  nor  yet  does  it  sanctify  the  use of our  time:  for  if  the  moments,  not  regulated  by  the  order  of  God, are moments  lost,  however  occupied  they  may  otherwise  be;  if  the life of  man  ought  to  be  a  life  of  wisdom  and  regularity,  where every occupation  has  its  allotted  place;  what  can  be  more  opposite to such  a  life  than  this  inconsistency,  these  eternal  fluctuations  in which   restlessness  makes  us  pass  our  time? But the  passions