Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/263

 of our  greatest  crimes? And, while  yet  dripping  from  a  shipwreck can we  too  strenuously  form  the  resolution  of  for  ever  shunning those rocks  upon  which  we  had  so  lately  split?

Lastly, true  penitence  causes  us  to  find  every  where  matter  of  a thousand  invisible  sacrifices. It does  not  confine  itself  to  certain essential privations;  every  thing  which  flatters  the  passions,  every thing which  nourishes  the  life  of  the  senses,  every  superfluity  which tends solely  to  the  gratification  of  self-love,  all  these  become  the subject of  its  sacrifices;  and,  like  a  sharp  and  grievous  sword,  it every  where  makes  divisions  and  separations  painful  to  the  heart, and cuts  even  to  the  quick,  whatever  in  the  smallest  degree  approached too  near  to  the  corruption  of  our  propensities. The grace of compunction  at  once  leads  the  contrite  soul  to  this  point;  it renders  him  ingenuous  in  punishing  himself,  and  arranges  matters so well  that  every  thing  serves  in  expiation  of  his  crimes;  that duties, social  intercourse,  honours,  prosperity,  and  the  cares  attendant upon  his  station,  become  opportunities  of  proving  his  merit; and that  even  his  pleasures,  through  the  circumspection  and  faith with which  they  are  accompanied,  become  praiseworthy  and  virtuous actions.

Behold the  divine  secret  of  penitence! As it  officiates  here below toward  the  criminal  soul,  says  Tertullian,  as  the  justice  of God;  and  as  the  justice  of  God  shall  one  day  punish  guilt  by  the eternal privation  of  all  creatures  which  the  sinner  hath  abused,  penitence anticipates  that  terrible  judgment;  it  every  where  imposes on itself  the  most  rigorous  privations;  and  if  the  miserable  condition of  human  life  render  the  use  of  present  things  still  requisite,  it employs  them  much  less  to  flatter  than  to  punish  the  senses,  by  the sober and  austere  manner  in  which  it  applies  them.

You have  only  to  calculate  thereupon  the  truth  of  your  penitence. In vain  do  you  appear  to  have  left  off  the  brutal  gratification  of  the passions, if  the  same  pomp  and  splendour  are  requisite  toward  satisfying that  natural  inclination  which  courts  distinction  through  a vain  magnificence;  the  same  profusions,  in  consequence  of  not  having the  courage  to  deprive  self-love  of  accustomed  superfluities;  the same pleasures  of  the  world,  in  consequence  of  being  unable  to  do without  it;  the  same  advantages  on  the  part  of  fortune,  in  consequence of  the  continual  desire  of  rising  superior  to  others:  in  a word,  if  you  can  part  with  nothing,  you  exclude  yourself  from nothing; even  admitting  that  all  those  attachments  which  you  still preserve should  not  be  absolute  crimes,  your  heart  is  not  penitent; your manners  are  apparently  different,  but  all  your  passions  are still the  same;  you  are  apparently  changed,  but  you  are  not  converted. How rare,  my  brethren,  are  true  penitents! How common are  vain  and  superficial  conversions! And how  many  souls, changed in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  shall  one  day  find  themselves  the same before  God!

But it  is  not  enough  to  have  attained  to  that  degree  of  self-denial which  keeps  us  without  the  circle  of  attraction  of  the  allurements of  guilt;  those  laborious  atonements  must  likewise  be  added,