Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/167

 dread, it  is  the  justice  of  God  which  awaits  you  beyond  it,  to punish  the  infidelities  and  crimes  of  your  life:  it  is,  that,  covered as you  are  with  the  most  shameful  wounds,  which  disfigure  in  you his image,  you  are  not  in  a  state  to  present  yourselves  before  him: and that  to  die  in  your  present  situation,  must  be  to  perish  for  ever. Purify, then,  your  conscience,  put  an  end  to,  and  expiate  your criminal passions;  recall  God  to  your  heart;  no  longer  offer  to  his sight any  thing  worthy  of  his  anger  or  punishment;  place  yourselves in  a  state  to  hope  something,  after  death,  from  his  infinite mercy: then  shall  you  see  that  last  moment  approach  with  less dread and  trembling;  and  the  sacrifice  which  you  shall  have  already made  to  God,  of  the  world  and  your  passions,  will  not  only render easy,  but  even  sweet  and  consoling,  the  sacrifice  you  will then make  to  him  of  your  life.

For say,  What  has  death  so  fearful  to  a  faithful  soul? From what does  it  separate  him? From a  world  which  shall  perish,  and which is  the  country  of  the  reprobate;  from  his  riches,  which torment him,  of  which  the  use  is  surrounded  with  dangers,  and which he  is  forbid  to  use  in  the  gratification  of  the  senses;  from his relations  and  friends,  whom  he  precedes  only  by  a  moment, and who  shall  soon  follow  him;  from  his  body,  which  hitherto had been  either  a  rock  to  his  innocence  or  a  perpetual  obstacle  to his  holy  desires;  from  his  offices  and  dignities,  which,  in  multiplying his  duties,  augmented  his  dangers;  lastly,  from  life,  which to him  was  only  an  exilement,  and  an  anxious  desire  to  be  delivered from  it. What does  death  bestow  on  him,  to  compensate for what  it  takes  away? It bestows  unfading  riches,  of  which none can  ever  deprive  him;  eternal  joys,  which  he  shall  enjoy without fear  or  remorse;  the  peaceable  and  certain  possession  of God  himself,  from  which  he  can  never  be  degraded;  deliverance from all  his  passions,  which  had  ever  been  a  constant  source  of disquiet  and  distress;  an  unalterable  peace,  which  he  never  could find on  the  earth;  and,  lastly,  the  society  of  the  just  and  happy, in place  of  that  of  sinners,  from  whom  it  separates  him. What then, O  my  God! has the  world  so  delightful,  to  attach  a  faithful soul? To him  it  is  a  vale  of  tears,  where  dangers  are  infinite, combats daily,  victories  rare,  and  defeats  certain;  where  every gratification must  be  denied  to  the  senses;  where  all  tempts,  and all is  forbidden  to  us;  where  we  must  fly  from  and  dread  most, what most  pleases  us;  in  a  word,  where,  if  you  suffer  not,  if  you weep not,  if  you  resist  not  to  the  utmost  extremity,  if  you  combat not without  ceasing,  if  you  hate  not  yourself,  you  are  lost. What, then, do  you  find  so  amiable,  so  alluring,  so  capable  of  attaching a Christian  soul? And to  die,  is  it  not  a  gain  and  a  triumph for him?

Besides, death  is  the  only  object  he  looks  forward  to;  it  is the  only  consolation  which  supports  the  fidelity  of  the  just. Do they bend  under  afflictions? They know  that  their  end  is  near; that the  short  and  fleeting  tribulations  of  this  life  shall  soon  be followed  by  a  load  of  eternal  glory;  and  in  that  thought  they  find