Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/218

 made to  attain  an  end  to  my  sufferings;  complete  rather  thy  vengeance upon  me  here  below;  reserve  nothing  for  that  dreadful  eternity, where  thy  chastisement  shall  be  without  end  and  without measure. I ask  thee  only  to  sustain  my  weakness;  and,  in  shedding sorrows through  my  life,  shed  likewise  upon  it  thy  grace,  which consoles and  recompenses  with  such  usury  an  afflicted  heart.

To all  these  truths,  so  consoling  for  an  afflicted  soul,  I  might  still add, that  our  sufferings  appear  excessive  only  through  the  excess of the  corruption  of  our  heart;  that  the  keenness  of  our  afflictions springs solely  from  that  of  our  passions! that it  is  the  impropriety of our  attachments  to  the  objects  lost,  which  renders  their  loss  so grievous;  that  we  are  keenly  afflicted  only  when  we  had  been keenly attached;  and  that  the  excess  of  our  afflictions  is  always  the punishment of  the  excess  of  our  iniquitous  loves. I might  add, that we  always  magnify  whatever  regards  ourselves;  that  the  very idea of  singularity  in  our  misfortunes  flatters  our  vanity,  at  the same time  that  it  authorizes  our  murmurs;  that  we  never  wish to resemble  others;  that  we  feel  a  secret  pleasure  in  persuading ourselves that  we  are  single  of  our  kind;  we  wish  all  the  world  to be  occupied  with  our  misfortunes  alone,  as  if  we  were  the  only  unfortunate of  the  earth. Yes, my  brethren,  the  evils  of  others  are nothing in  our  eyes:  we  see  not  that  all  around  us  are,  perhaps, more unhappy  than  we;  that  we  have  a  thousand  resources  in  our afflictions, which  are  denied  to  others;  that  we  derive  a  thousand consolations in  our  infirmities,  from  wealth,  and  the  number  of persons  watchful  over  our  smallest  wants;  that,  in  the  loss  of  a person  dear  to  us,  a  thousand  means  of  softening  its  bitterness  still remain from  the  situation  in  which  Providence  hath  placed  us: that, in  domestic  divisions,  we  find  comforts  in  the  tenderness  and in the  confidence  of  our  friends,  which  we  had  been  unable  to procure  among  our  relatives;  lastly,  that  we  find  a  thousand  human indemnifications to  our  misfortunes,  and  that,  were  we  to  place  in a  balance,  on  the  one  side  our  consolations,  and  on  the  other  our sufferings, we  should  find,  that  there  are  still  remaining  in  our  state more comforts  capable  of  corrupting  us,  than  crosses  calculated  to sanctify  us.

Thus, it  is  almost  solely  the  great  and  the  prosperous  of  the world who  complain  of  the  excess  of  their  misfortunes  and  sufferings. The unfortunate  majority  of  the  earth,  who  are  born  to,  and  live  in, penury and  distress,  pass  in  silence,  and  almost  in  the  neglect  of their  sufferings,  their  wretched  days. The smallest  gleam  of  comfort and  ease  restores  serenity  and  cheerfulness  to  their  heart:  the slightest consolations  obliterate  their  troubles:  a  moment  of  pleasure makes  up  for  a  whole  year  of  sufferance;  while  those  fortunate and  sensual  souls,  amidst  all  their  abundance,  are  seen  to reckon,  as  an  unheard  of  misfortune,  the  disappointment  of  a  single desire. We view  them  turning  into  a  martyrdom  for  themselves, the weariness  and  even  the  satiety  of  pleasures;  drawing  from imaginary evils  the  source  of  a  thousand  real  vexations;  feeling ten-fold more  anguish  for  the  failure  of  a  single  acquisition,  than