Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/292

 But I  ought  first  to  ask  you,  how  have  you  then  lost  that  faith so precious? You have  received  it  in  your  baptism;  a  Christian education hath  cherished  it  in  your  heart;  it  had  grown  up  with you; it  was  an  inestimable  talent  which  the  Lord  had  intrusted  to you  in  discerning  you  from  so  many  infidel  nation s,  and  in  marking you,  from  the  moment  you  quitted  your  mother's  womb,  with the seal  of  salvation. What have  you  then  done  with  the  gift  of God? Who hath  effaced  from  your  forehead  that  sign  of  eternal election? Is it  not  the  corruptions  of  the  passions,  and  that  blindness which  has  been  their  just  punishment? Did you  suspect  the faith of  your  fathers  before  you  became  dissolute  and  abandoned? Is it  not  yourself  who  hath  extinguished  in  the  dirt  that  celestial torch, which  the  church,  in  regenerating  you,  had  placed  in  your hand, to  enlighten  your  way  through  the  obscurities  and  the  dangers of  this  life? Why then  accuse  God  of  that  waste  which  you have made  of  his  favours? He has  the  right  of  reclaiming  his  own gift; to  him  it  belongs  to  make  you  accountable  for  the  talento which he  had  entrusted  to  your  care;  to  say  to  you,  "Wicked  and ungrateful  servant,  what  had  I  done  for  others  that  I  had  not  done for  thee?  I  had  embellished  thy  soul  with  the  gift  of  faith,  and with  the  mark  of  my  children:  thou  hast  cast  that  precious  jewel before  unclean  animals;  thou  hast  extinguished  faith,  and  the  light that  I  had  placed  within  thee.  I  have  long,  in  spite  of  thyself, preserved  it  in  thy  heart:  I  have  caused  it  to  outlive  all  the  impious efforts  which,  because  it  was  become  troublesome  to  thy debaucheries,  thou  hast  made  to  extinguish  it:  thou  knowest  how much  it  hath  cost  thee  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  faith,  and  to  be what  thou  now  art;  and  this  dreadful  state,  which  is the justest punishment  of  thy  crimes,  should  now  become  their  only  excuse? And thou  sayest  that  the  want  of  faith  is  no  fault  of  thine,  seeing it depends  not  on  man, — thou,  who  hast  had  such  difficulty  in tearing  it  from  the  bottom  of  thy  soul? And thou  pretendest  that  it is  I  who  ought  to  give  it  to  thee,  if  I  wish  thee  to  serve  me, — I,  who reclaim it  from  thee,  and  who  so  justly  complain  that  thou  hast  lost it?" Enter  into  judgment  with  your  Lord,  and  justify  yourself, if  you  have  any  reply  to  make  to  him.

And to  make  you,  my  dear  hearer,  more  sensible  of  all  the  weakness of  this  pretext;  you  complain  that  you  want  faith;  you  say that you  would  wish  to  have  it;  that  happy  are  those  who  are feelingly convinced,  and  that,  in  that  state,  no  suffering  can  affect them. But, if  you  wish  for  faith,  if  you  believe  that  nothing  is  so fortunate  as  that  of  being  truly  convinced  of  the  truths  of  salvation, and of  the  illusion  of  all  that  passeth  away;  if  you  envy  the  lot  of those  souls  who  have  attained  to  that  desirable  state;  if  this  be, behold then  that  faith  which  you  await,  and  which  you  thought  to have  lost. What more  do  you  require  to  know,  in  order  to  terminate a  criminal  life,  than  the  happiness  of  those  who  have  forsaken it, to  labour  toward  their  salvation? You say  that  you  would  wish faith; but  you  have  it  from  the  moment  that  you  think  it  worthy of a  wish;  at  least  you  have  enough  of  it  to  know,  that  the  greatest happiness  of  man  is  that  of  sacrificing  all  his  promises. Now,