Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/253

 dition that  he  should  never  see  you? Would you  be  satisfied  with his goodness,  and  with  his  mercy,  were  he,  for  ever  to  banish  you from his  presence? For you  well  know  that  he  will  treat  you,  as you  shall  have  treated  your  brother. Would you  think  yourself much in  favour  with  the  prince,  were  he  to  forbid  you  ever  to  present yourself  before  him? You constantly  say,  that  a  man  is  in disgrace,  when  he  is  no  longer  permitted  to  appear  before  the  master; and you  pretend  to  persuade  us  that  you  love  your  brother,  and that no  rancour  remains  in  your  heart  against  him,  while  his  sole presence displeases  and  irritates  you.

And what  less  equivocal  mark  can  be  given  of  animosity  against your brother,  than  that  of  being  unable  to  endure  his  presence? It is  the  very  extreme  of  hatred  and  of  rancour. For many settled hatreds  exist,  which  yet  are  kept  under  a  kind  of  check; are, as  far  as  possible,  concealed,  and  even  borrow  the  outward semblance  of  friendship  and  of  decency;  and,  though  unable to reconcile  the  heart  to  duty,  yet  have  sufficient  command  over themselves, to  preserve  appearances  to  the  world. But your  hatred is beyond  all  restraint;  it  knows  neither  prudence,  caution,  nor decency; and  you  pretend  to  persuade  us  that  it  is  now  no  more! you still  show  the  most  violent  proofs  of  animosity,  and  even  these you would  have  us  to  consider  as  the  indubitable  signs  of  a  Christian and  sincere  love!

But, besides,  are  Christians  made  to  live  estranged,  and  unconnected with  each  other? Christians! the members  of  one  body, the children  of  the  same  Father,  the  disciples  of  the  same  Master, the inheritors  of  the  same  kingdom,  the  stones  of  the  same  building, the  particles  of  the  same  mass! Christians! the participation of one  same  spirit,  of  one  same  redemption,  of  one  same  righteousness! Christians! sprung from  one  bosom,  regenerated  in  the  same water, incorporated  in  the  same  church,  redeemed  by  one  ransom, — are they  made  to  fly  each  other,  to  make  a  punishment  of  seeing each other,  and  to  be  unable  to  endure  each  other? All religion binds, unites  us  together;  the  sacraments  in  which  we  join,  the public prayers  and  thanksgivings  which  we  sing,  the  ceremonies  of that  worship  in  which  we  pride  ourselves,  the  assembly  of  believers at which  we  assist;  all  these  externals  are  only  symbols  of  that union which  ties  us  together. All religion  itself  is  but  one  holy society, a  divine  communication  of  prayers,  of  sacrifices,  of  works, and of  well-doings. Every thing  connects  and  unites  us,  every thing tends  to  make,  of  our  brethren  and  of  us,  only  one  family, one body,  one  heart,  and  one  soul;  and  you  believe  that  you  love your brother,  and  that  you  preserve,  with  respect  to  him,  all  the most sacred  ties  of  religion,  while  you  break  through  even  those  of society,  and  that  you  cannot  endure  even  his  presence?

I say  much  more:  how  shall  you  indulge  the  same  hope  with him? For, by  that  common  hope,  you  are  eternally  to  live  with him, to  make  his  happiness  your  own,  to  be  happy  with  him,  to be  reunited  with  him  in  the  bosom  of  God,  and  with  him  to  sing the eternal  praises  of  grace. Ah! how could  the  hope  of  being