Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/229

 endangers your  property  and  fortune,  that  an  approaching  death  is on  the  point  of  snatching  from  you  a  person  either  dear  or  necessary, then  you  raise  your  hands  to  heaven;  then  you  send  up  your lamentations and  prayers;  you  address  yourself  to  the  God  who strikes and  who  relieves;  you  then  know  how  to  pray;  you  have  no need  of  going  beyond  your  own  heart  for  lessons  and  rules  to  lay your afflictions  before  him,  nor  do  you  consult  able  teachers  in order  to  know  what  is  necessary  to  say  to  him;  you  have  occasion for nothing  but  your  grief,  your  evils  alone  have  found  out  the  method of instructing  you.

Ah! my brethren,  if  we  felt  the  wants  of  our  soul  as  we  feel those of  our  body, — if  our  eternal  salvation  interested  us  as  much as a  fortune  of  dirt,  or  a  weak  and  perishable  health,  we  would soon be  skilful  in  the  divine  art  of  prayer;  we  would  not  complain that we  had  nothing  to  say  in  the  presence  of  a  God  of  whom  we have  so  much  to  ask;  the  mind  would  be  little  difficulted  in  finding wherewith to  entertain  him;  our  evils  alone  would  speak;  in  spite of ourselves,  our  heart  would  burst  forth  in  holy  effusions,  like  that of Samuel's  mother  before  the  ark  of  the  Lord;  we  would  no  longer be master  of  our  sorrows  and  tears;  and  the  most  certain  mark  of our  want  of  faith,  and  that  we  know  ourselves  not,  is,  that  of  not knowing what  to  say  to  the  Lord  in  the  space  of  a  short  prayer.

And after  all,  is  it  possible  that,  in  the  miserable  condition  of this  human  life,  surrounded  as  we  are  with  so  many  dangers;  made up ourselves  of  so  many  weaknesses;  on  the  point,  every  moment, of being  led  astray  by  the  objects  of  vanity,  corrupted  by  the  illusions of  the  senses,  and  dragged  away  by  the  force  of  example;  a continual  prey  to  the  tyranny  of  our  inclinations,  to  the  dominion of our  flesh,  to  the  inconstancy  of  our  heart,  to  the  inequalities  of our  reason,  to  the  caprices  of  our  imagination,  to  the  eternal  variations of  our  temper;  depressed  by  loss  of  favour,  elated  by  prosperity, enervated  by  abundance,  soured  by  poverty,  led  away  by custom,  shaken  by  accidents,  flattered  with  praise,  irritated  by  contempt; continually  wavering  between  our  passions  and  our  duties, between ourselves  and  the  law  of  God;  is  it  possible,  I  say,  that, in a  situation  so  deplorable,  we  can  be  difficulted  what  to  ask  of the  Lord,  or  what  to  say  to  him,  when  we  appear  in  his  presence? O my  God! why then  is  man  not  less  miserable? Or why  is  he not  better  acquainted  with  his  wants?

Ah! if you  told  us,  my  dear  hearer,  that  you  know  not  where  to begin  in  prayer;  that  your  wants  are  so  infinite,  your  miseries  and your passions  so  multiplied,  that,  were  you  to  pretend  to  expose them all  to  the  Lord,  you  would  never  have  done:  if  you  said  to us,  that  the  more  you  search  into  your  heart,  the  more  your  wounds unfold, the  more  corruption  and  disorders  do  you  discover  in  yourself, and  that,  despairing  of  being  able  to  relate  to  the  Lord  the endless detail  of  your  weaknesses,  you  present  your  heart  wholly to him,  you  leave  your  evils  to  speak  for  you,  you  ground  your whole art  of  prayer  on  your  confusion,  your  humiliation,  and  your silence; and  that,  in  consequence  of  having  too  much  to  say  to  him,