Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/238

 the desert;  and,  in  a  word,  that  he  should  not  chastise  the  delights, if I  may  venture  to  say  so,  of  guilt,  but  by  those  of  virtue?

Secondly. You have  so  long  refused  yourself  to  God,  in  spite  of the  most  lively  inspirations  of  his  grace,  which  recalled  you  to  the truth and  to  the  light;  you  have  so  long  suffered  him  to  knock  at  the gate of  your  heart  before  you  have  opened  it  to  him;  you  have  disputed, struggled  against,  wavered,  deferred  so  much,  before  you gave yourself  to  him;  is  it  not  just  that  he  leave  you  to  solicit  for some time  before  he  give  himself  to  you  with  all  the  consolations of his  grace? The delays  and  the  tarryings  of  the  Lord  are  the just punishment  of  your  own.

But, even  admitting  these  reasons  to  be  less  weighty,  how  do you  know  if  the  Lord  thereby  mean  not  to  render  this  exilement and this  separation  in  which  we  live  from  him,  more  hateful  to  you, and to  increase  the  fervency  of  your  longings  for  that  immortal country where  truth,  seen  in  open  day,  will  always  appear  lovely, because we  shall  see  it  as  it  is? How do  you  know  if  he  thereby mean not  to  inspire  you  with  new  compunction  for  your  past crimes, by  making  you  sensible,  at  every  moment,  of  the  contrariety and  disgust  which  they  have  left  in  your  heart  to  the  truth and to  righteousness? Lastly, how  do  you  know,  if  the  Lord  mean not, by  these  disgusts,  to  perfect  the  purification  of  what  may  as yet  be  too  human  in  your  piety; — if  he  mean  not  to  establish  your virtue upon  that  truth  which  is  always  the  same,  and  not  upon  inclination and  fancy,  which  incessantly  change;  upon  rules  which are eternal,  and  not  upon  consolations  which  are  transitory;  upon faith which  never  fails  to  sacrifice  the  visible  for  the  invisible  riches, and not  upon  feeling,  which  leaves  to  the  world  almost  the  same empire that  grace  hath  over  your  heart? A piety  wholly  of  fancy goes a  short  way,  if  not  sustained  and  confirmed  by  the  truth. It is dangerous  to  let  our  fidelity  depend  upon  the  feeling  dispositions of a  heart  which  is  never  an  instant  the  same,  and  upon  which every object  makes  new  impressions. The duties  which  only  please when they  console,  do  not  please  long;  and  that  virtue  which  is solely  founded  on  fancy  can  never  sustain  itself,  because  it  rests only upon  ourselves.

For, after  all,  if  you  seek  only  the  Lord  in  your  prayers,  provided that  the  way  by  which  he  leads  you  conduct  to  him,  it  ought to matter  little  to  you  whether  it  be  by  that  of  disgusts  or  of  consolations, for,  being  the  surest,  it  ought  always  to  appear  preferable to  all  others. If you  pray  only  to  attract  more  aids  from heaven in  relief  of  your  wants,  or  in  support  of  your  weakness, faith teaching  you  that  prayer,  even  when  accompanied  with  those disgusts and  those  drynesses,  obtains  the  same  favours,  produces the same  effects,  and  is  equally  acceptable  to  God  as  that  in  which sensible consolations  are  found. What do  I  say? — that it  may become even  more  agreeable  to  the  Lord,  through  your  acceptance of the  difficulties  which  you  there  encounter;  faith  teaching  you this, you  ought  to  be  equally  faithful  to  prayer  as  if  it  held  out  the most sensible  attractions,  otherwise  it  would  not  be  God  whom