Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/233

 ing upon  it  either  as  a  wearisome  duty,  or  as  a  lost  trouble,  they abridge its  length,  and  think  themselves  happily  quit  of  a  yoke  and of a  slavery,  when  this  moment  of  weariness  and  restraint  is  over.

Now, I  say,  that  nothing  is  more  unrighteous  than  to  estrange ourselves from  prayer,  on  account  of  the  disgusts  and  wanderings of the  mind,  which  render  it  painful  and  disagreeable  to  us;  for these disgusts  and  wanderings  originate, — first,  from  our  lukewarmness,  and  our  infidelities, — or,  secondly,  in  our  being  little  accustomed to  prayer, — or,  thirdly,  in  the  wisdom  even  of  God,  who tries us,  and  who  wishes  to  purify  our  heart,  by  withholding  for  a time  the  sensible  consolations  of  prayer.

Yes, my  brethren,  the  first  and  the  most  common  source  of  the disgusts and  the  dryness  of  our  prayers,  is  the  lukewarmness  and the infidelity  of  our  life. — It is,  in  effect,  an  injustice  to  pretend that we  can  bring  to  prayer  a  serene  and  tranquil  mind;  a  cool imagination, free  from  all  the  vain  phantoms  by  which  it  is  agitated; a heart  affected  with,  and  disposed  to  relish  the  presence  of  its God, — while our  whole  life,  though  otherwise  virtuous  in  the  eyes of man,  shall  be  one  continual  dissipation;  while  we  shall  continue to live  among  objects  the  most  calculated  to  move  the  imagination, and to  make  those  lively  impressions  on  us  which  are  never  done away; in  a  word,  while  we  shall  preserve  a  thousand  iniquitous attachments in  our  heart,  which,  though  not  absolutely  criminal  in our  eyes,  yet  trouble,  divide,  and  occupy  us,  and  which  weaken  in us,  or  even  totally  deprive  us  of  any  relish  for  God  and  the  things of heaven.

Alas! my brethren,  if  the  most  retired  and  the  most  holy  souls; if the  most  recluse  penitents,  purified  by  long  retreat,  and  by  a  life altogether devoted  to  Heaven,  still  found,  in  the  sole  remembrance of their  past  manners,  disagreeable  images,  which  force  their  way even into  their  solitude,  to  disturb  the  comfort  and  the  tranquillity of their  prayers;  do  we  expect  that  in  a  life,  regular  I  confess,  but full of  agitation,  of  occasions  by  which  we  are  led  away,  of  objects which unsettle  us,  of  temptations  which  disquiet,  of  pleasures  which enervate, of  fears  and  hopes  which  agitate  us,  we  shall  find  ourselves in prayer,  all  of  a  sudden  new  men,  purified  from  all  those  images which sully  our  mind,  freed  from  all  those  attachments  which  come to divide  and  perhaps  corrupt  our  heart,  in  tranquillity  from  all those agitations  which  continually  make  such  violent  and  such dangerous impressions  upon  our  soul;  and  that,  forgetting  for  a moment  the  entire  world,  and  all  those  vain  objects  which  we  have so lately  quitted,  and  which  we  still  bear  in  our  remembrance  and in our  heart,  we  shall,  all  of  a  sudden,  find  ourselves  raised,  before God, to  the  meditation  of  heavenly  things,  penetrated  with  love  for eternal riches,  filled  with  compunction  for  innumerable  infidelities which we  still  love,  and  with  a  tranquillity  of  mind  and  of  heart, which the  profoundest  retirement,  and  the  most  rigorous  seclusion from the  world  frequently  do  not  bestow? Ah! my brethren,  how unjust we  are,  and  into  what  terrible  reproaches  against  ourselves shall the  continual  complaints  made  by  us  against  the  duties  of piety  one  day  be  turned!