Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/216

 my tears  to  flow;  he  maketh  them  subservient  to  my  eternal sanctification. Since his  hand  hath  weighed  so  heavily,  and  in  so singular  a  way  upon  me,  and  since  no  earthly  resource  seems  to  be left  me,  I  consider  myself  as  having  at  last  become  an  object  more worthy of  his  cares  and  of  his  regards. Ah! if I  still  enjoyed  a serene  and  happy  situation,  his  looks  would  no  longer  be  upon  me; he would  neglect  me,  and  I  should  be  blended  before  him  with  so many  others  who  are  the  prosperous  of  the  earth. Beloved sufferings, which,  in  depriving  me  of  all  human  aids,  restore  me  to  God, and render  him  mine  only  resource  in  all  my  sorrows! Precious afflictions, which  in  turning  me  aside  from  all  creatures,  are  the cause that  I  now  become  the  continual  object  of  the  remembrance and of  the  mercies  of  my  Lord!

I might  reply  to  you,  in  the  second  place,  that  common  and momentary afflictions  would  have  aroused  our  faith  but  for  an  instant. We would  soon  have  found,  in  every  thing  around  us,  a thousand  resources  to  obliterate  the  remembrance  of  that  slight misfortune. Pleasures, human  consolations,  the  new  events  which the world  is  continually  offering  to  our  sight,  would  soon  have beguiled our  sorrow,  and  restored  our  relish  for  the  world,  and  for its vain  amusements;  and  our  heart,  always  in  concert  with  all  the objects which  flatter  it,  would  soon  have  been  tired  of  its  sighs and of  its  sorrows. But the  Lord,  in  sending  afflictions  in  which religion alone  can  become  our  resource,  hath  meant  to  preclude  all return toward  the  world,  and  to  place  between  our  weakness  and us a  barrier  which  can  never  be  shaken  by  either  time  or  accidents: he hath  anticipated  our  inconstancy,  in  rendering  precautions  necessary to  us,  which  might  not  perhaps  have  always  appeared equally useful. He read,  in  the  character  of  our  heart,  that  our fidelity in  flying  the  dangers  of,  and  separating  ourselves  from  the world, would  not  extend  beyond  our  sorrow;  that  the  same  moment which  beheld  us  consoled  would  witness  our  change;  that, in forgetting  our  chagrins,  we  would  soon  have  forgotten  our  pious resolutions; and  that  short-lived  afflictions  would  have  made  us only  short-lived  righteous. He hath  therefore  established  the  continuance of  our  piety  upon  that  of  our  sufferings;  he  hath  lodged fixed and  constant  afflictions  as  sureties  for  the  constancy  of  our faith: and  lest,  in  leaving  our  soul  in  our  own  power,  we  should again restore  it  to  the  world,  he  hath  resolved  to  render  it  safe, by attaching  it  for  ever  to  the  foot  of  the  cross. We are  thoroughly sensible ourselves  that  a  great  blow  was  required  to  rouse  us  from our lethargy;  that  we  had  been  little  benefited  by  the  slight  afflictions with  which  the  Lord  hath  hitherto  been  pleased  to  visit  us; and that  scarcely  had  he  stricken  us,  when  we  had  forgotten  the hand that  had  inflicted  so  salutary  a  wound. Of what,  then,  O my  God,  should  I  complain? That excess  which  I  find  in  my troubles,  is  an  excess  of  thy  mercies. I do  not  consider  that  the less thou  sparest  the  patient,  the  more  thou  hastenest  his  cure, and that  all  the  utility  and  all  the  security  of  our  sufferings  consist in  the  rigour  of  thy  blows. My sweetest  consolation  in  the