Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/204

 and search  for  food  in  the  neighbouring  villages;  no  one  is  excepted from  his  divine  bounty. Is the  being  reduced  to  feign wretchedness not  a  sufficient  misery  of  itself? Is it  not  preferable to assist  fictitious  wants,  rather  than  to  run  the  risk  of  refusing  aid to real  and  melancholy  objects  of  compassion? When an  impostor should even  deceive  your  charity,  where  is  the  loss? Is it  not always Jesus  Christ  who  receives  it  from  your  hand? And is  your recompense attached  to  the  abuse  which  may  be  made  of  your bounty, or  to  the  intention  itself  which  bestows  it?

From this  rule  there  springs  a  third,  laid  down  in  the  history  of our  gospel,  at  the  same  time  with  the  other  two:  it  is,  that  not only ought  charity  to  be  universal,  but  likewise  mild,  affable,  and compassionate. Jesus Christ,  beholding  these  people  wandering and unprovided  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  is  touched  with  compassion;  he  is  affected  at  the  sight,  and  the  wants  of  the  multitude awaken  his  tenderness  and  pity. Third rule:  the  gentleness of charity.

We often  accompany  pity  with  so  much  asperity  toward  the  unfortunate, while  stretching  out  to  them  a  helping  hand, — we  look upon them  with  so  sour  and  so  severe  a  countenance,  that  a  simple denial had  been  less  galling  to  them  than  a  charity  so  harshly  and so unfeelingly  bestowed;  for  the  pity  which  appears  affected  by our  misfortunes,  consoles  them  almost  as  much  as  the  bounty which relieves  them. We reproach  to  them  their  strength,  their idleness, their  wandering  and  vagabond  manners;  we  accuse  their own conduct  for  their  indigence  and  wretchedness:  and,  in  succouring, we  purchase  the  right  of  insulting  them. But, were  the unhappy creature  whom  you  outrage  permitted  to  reply, — if  the abjectness of  his  situation  had  not  put  the  check  of  shame  and respect upon  his  tongue,  what  do  you  reproach  to  me? would he say. An idle  life,  and  useless,  and  vagabond  manners. But what are the  cares  which  in  your  opulence  engross  you? The cares  of ambition,  the  anxieties  of  fortune,  the  impulses  of  the  passions, the refinements  of  voluptuousness. I may  be  an  unprofitable  servant;  but  are  you  not  yourself  an  unfaithful  one? Ah! if the most culpable  were  always  to  be  the  poorest  and  the  most  unfortunate in  this  world,  would  your  lot  be  superior  to  mine? You reproach me  with  a  strength  which  I  apply  to  no  purpose;  but  to what  use  do  you  apply  your  own? Because I  work  not,  I  ought not to  have  food;  but  are  you  dispensed  yourself  from  that  law? Are you  rich  merely  that  you  may  pass  your  life  in  a  shameful  effeminacy and  sloth? Ah! the Lord  will  judge  between  you  and me, and,  before  his  awful  tribunal,  it  shall  be  seen  whether  your voluptuousness and  profusion  were  more  allowable  in  you  than the innocent  artifice  which  I  employ  to  attract  assistance  to  my sufferings.

Yes, my  brethren,  let  us  at  least  offer  to  the  unfortunate,  hearts feeling for  their  wants. If the  mediocrity  of  our  fortune  permit us not  altogether  to  relieve  our  indigent  fellow-creatures,  let  us,  by our  humanity,  at  least  soften  the  yoke  of  poverty. Alas! we give