Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/160

 shared in  their  danger  and  glory;  our  annals  will  convey  them down to  our  latest  posterity;  but  to  you  they  are  already  but  a dream,  but  a  momentary  flash,  which  is  extinguished,  and  which every day  effaces  more  and  more  from  your  remembrance. What, then, is  this  small  portion  you  have  still  to  accomplish? Can you believe that  the  days  to  come  have  more  reality  than  those  already past? Years appear  long  while  yet  at  a  distance;  arrived,  they vanish, they  slip  from  us  in  an  instant;  and  scarcely  shall  we  have looked around  us,  when,  as  if  by  enchantment,  we  shall  find  ourselves at  the  fatal  term,  which  still  appeared  so  distant  that  we rashly  concluded  it  would  never  arrive. View the  world,  such  as you  have  seen  it  in  your  youthful  days,  and  such  as  you  now  see it: new  personages  have  mounted  the  stage;  the  grand  parts  are filled by  new  actors;  there  are  new  events,  new  intrigues,  new  passions, new  heroes  in  virtue  as  well  as  in  vice,  which  engage  the praises, derisions,  and  censures  of  the  public;  a  new  world,  without your having  perceived  it,  has  insensibly  risen  on  the  wrecks  of  the first; every  thing  passes -with  and  like  you;  a  velocity,  which  nothing can  stop,  drags  all  into  the  gulf  of  eternity:  yesterday  our ancestors cleared  the  way  for  us;  and  to-morrow  we  shall  do  the same for  those  who  are  to  follow. Ages succeed  each  other;  the appearance of  the  world  incessantly  changes;  the  dead  and  living continually replace  and  succeed  each  other. Nothing stands  still; all changes,  all  wastes  away,  all  has  an  end. God alone  remaineth always the  same:  the  torrent  of  ages,  which  sweeps  away  all  men, flows before  his  eyes;  and,  with  indignation,  he  sees  weak  mortals, carried down  by  that  rapid  course,  insult  him  while  passing;  wish, of that  transitory  instant,  to  constitute  all  their  happiness;  and,  at their  departure  from  it,  fall  into  the  hands  of  his  vengeance  and wrath. Where, says  the  apostle,  amongst  us,  are  now  the  wise? And a  man,  were  he  even  capable  of  governing  the  world,  can  he merit  that  name  from  the  moment  that  he  forgets  what  he  is  and what he  must  be?

Nevertheless, my  brethren,  what  impression  on  us  does  the  instability of  every  thing  worldly  make? The death  of  our  relations, friends, competitors,  and  masters? We never  think  that  we  are immediately to  follow  them! we think  only  of  decking  ourselves out in  their  spoils;  we  think  not  on  the  little  time  they  had  enjoyed them,  but  only  on  the  pleasure  they  must  have  had  in  their possession: we  hasten  to  profit  ourselves  from  the  wreck  of  each other: we  are  like  those  foolish  soldiers,  who,  in  the  heat  of  battle, when their  companions  are  every  moment  falling  around  them, eagerly load  themselves  with  their  clothes;  and  scarcely  are  they put on,  when  a  mortal  blow  at  once  deprives  them  of  their  absurd decorations and  life. In this  manner  the  son  decks  himself  with the spoils  of  the  father;  closes  his  eyes;  succeeds  to  his  rank,  fortune, and  dignities;  conducts  the  pomp  of  his  funeral,  and  leaves it more  occupied  with,  more  affected  by,  the  new  titles  with  which he is  now  invested,  than  instructed  by  the  last  advices  of  a  dying parent; than  afflicted  for  his  loss,  or  even  undeceived  with  regard