Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/164

 your mind  from  that  thought? Do you  lessen  the  danger? On the contrary  you  augment  it,  and  render  a  surprisal  inevitable. By averting your  eyes,  do  you  soften  the  horror  of  that  spectacle? Alas! you only  multiply  its  terrors. Were you  to  familiarize  yourselves more  with  the  thoughts  of  death,  your  mind,  weak  and  timid, would insensibly  accustom  itself  to  it. You would  gradually  acquire courage  to  view  it  without  anguish,  or  at  least  with  resignation on  the  bed  of  death;  it  would  no  longer  be  an  unusual  and strange sight. A long  anticipated  danger  astonishes  not:  death  is only  formidable  the  first  time  that  the  imagination  dwells  upon  it; and it  is  only  when  not  expected,  and  no  provision  made  against it, that  it  is  to  be  dreaded.

But, when  that  thought  should  even  disquiet,  and  fill  you  with impressions of  dread  and  sorrow,  where  would  be  the  disappointment? Are you,  upon  the  earth,  to  live  only  in  an  indolent  ease, and solely  engrossed  by  agreeable  and  smiling  objects? We should lose our  reason,  say  you,  were  we  to  devote  our  attention  to  this dismal spectacle,  without  the  relaxation  of  pleasures. We should lose our  reason! But so  many  faithful  souls,  who,  in  all  their  actions, mingle  that  thought;  who  make  the  remembrance  of  that last hour  the  check  to  curb  their  passions,  and  the  most  powerful inducement to  fidelity;  so  many  illustrious  penitents,  who  have buried themselves  alive  in  their  tombs,  that  they  might  never  lose sight of  that  object;  the  holy  who  every  day  suffered  death,  like the apostle,  that  they  might  live  for  ever,  have  they  in  consequence of it,  lost  their  reason? You should  lose  your  reason! that is  to say,  you  would  regard  the  world  as  an  exilement,  pleasures  as  an intoxication,  sin  as  the  greatest  of  evils;  places,  honours,  favour, and fortune,  as  dreams;  and  salvation  as  the  grand  and  only  object worthy of  attention. Is that  to  lose  your  reason? Blessed folly! And would  that  you,  from  this  moment,  were  amongst  the  number of these  foolish  sages. You would  lose  your  reason! Yes, that false, worldly,  proud,  carnal,  and  mistaken  reason,  which  seduces you; that  corrupted  reason,  which  obscures  faith,  authorizes  the passions, makes  us  prefer  the  present  moment  to  eternity,  takes  the shadow for  the  substance,  and  leads  all  men  astray. Yes, that  deplorable reason,  that  vain  philosophy,  which  looks  upon  as  a weakness  the  dread  of  a  future  state,  and,  because  it  dreads  it  too much, seems,  in  appearance,  or  endeavours  to  force  itself,  not  to believe  it  at  all. But that  prudent,  enlightened,  moderate,  and Christian reason,  that  wisdom  of  the  serpent,  so  recommended  in the  gospel,  it  is  in  that  remembrance  that  you  would  find  it:  that wisdom, says  the  Holy  Spirit,  preferable  to  all  the  treasures  and honours of  the  earth;  that  wisdom  so  honourable  to  man,  and which exalts  him  so  much  above  himself;  that  wisdom  which  has formed so  many  Christian  heroes;  it  is  the  image  always  present of your  last  hour,  which  will  embellish  your  soul  with  it. But that thought, you  add,  should  we  take  it  into  our  head  to  enter  deeply into, and  to  dwell  continually  upon  it,  would  be  fit  to  make  us  renounce all,  and  to  form  the  most  violent  and  overstrained  resolu-