Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/133

 which keep  us  in  perpetual  motion  do  not  form  for  us  more  legitimate employments.

Yes, my  brethren,  I  know  that  it  is  only  at  a  certain  age  of  life that we  appear  occupied  with  frivolity  and  pleasures. More serious cares and  more  solid  avocations  succeed  to  the  indolence  and  to the  vain  amusements  of  our  younger  years:  and,  after  wasting our youth  in  sloth  and  in  pleasures,  we  appropriate  our  maturity to our  country,  to  fortune,  and  to  ourselves;  but  still,  with  respect to heaven  we  continue  the  same. I confess,  that  we  owe  our  services to  our  country,  to  our  sovereign,  and  to  the  national  cares; that amongst  the  number  of  duties  prescribed  to  us  by  religion,  it places  that  of  zeal  for  our  sovereign  and  for  the  interest  and  glory of our  country;  and  that  religion  alone  can  form  faithful  subjects, and citizens  ever  ready  to  sacrifice  their  all  for  the  general  good. But religion  wishes  not  that  pride  and  ambition  should  rashly plunge us  in  public  affairs,  and  that  we  should  anxiously  endeavour, by  all  possible  means,  by  intrigue  and  solicitations,  to  attain places, where,  owing  every  thing  to  others,  not  a  moment  is  left for ourselves:  religion  wishes  us  to  dread  these  tumultuous  situations; to  give  ourselves  up  to  them  with  regret  and  trembling, when the  order  of  God  and  the  authority  of  our  masters  call  us  to them;  and,  were  the  choice  left  to  us,  always  to  prefer  the  safety and leisure  of  a  private  station  to  the  dangers  and  eclat  of  dignities and places. Alas! we have  a  short  time  to  exist  upon  the  earth, and the  salvation  or  eternal  condemnation  which  awaits  us  is  so near,  that  every  other  care  ought  to  be  melancholy  and  burdensome to  us;  and  every  thing  which  diverts  our  attention  from  that grand object,  for  which  we  are  allowed  only  a  small  portion  of days,  ought  to  appear  as  the  heaviest  misfortune. This is  not  a maxim  of  pure  spirituality;  it  is  the  first  maxim  and  the  foundation of  Christianity.

Nevertheless, ambition,  pride,  and  all  our  passions,  unite  to  render a  private  life  insupportable  to  us. What in  life  we  dread  most, is a  lot  and  a  station  which  leave  us  to  ourselves,  and  do  not  establish us  upon  others. We consult  neither  the  order  of  God,  nor the views  of  religion,  nor  the  dangers  of  a  too  agitated  situation,  nor the happiness  which  faith  points  out  in  a  private  and  tranquil  station, where  we  have  nothing  but  ourselves  to  answer  for,  and  frequently not  even  our  talents;  we  consult  only  our  passions,  and that insatiable  desire  of  raising  ourselves  above  our  brethren;  we wish  to  figure  upon  the  stage  of  life,  and  become  great  personages, and upon  a  stage,  alas! which to-morrow  shall  disappear,  and  leave us nothing  real  but  the  puerile  trouble  and  pain  of  having  acted upon it. Even the  more  these  stations  appear  surrounded  with tumult and  embarrassment,  the  more  do  they  appear  worthy  of  our pursuit: we  wish  to  be  in  every  thing:  that  leisure  so  dear  to  a religious  soul,  to  us  appears  shameful  and  mean:  every  thing  which divides us  between  the  public  and  ourselves;  every  thing  which gives to  others  an  absolute  right  over  our  time;  every  thing  which plunges us  into  that  abyss  of  cares  and  agitations,  which  credit,