Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/301

 conversion which  thou  deferrest  to  a  future  period,  what  shall  they avail thee? And those  grand  resolutions  which  thou  promisest  to thyself  to  put  in  execution  one  day,  what  shall  they  change  in thine  eternal  misery,  should  death  anticipate  them,  as  it  every  day doth in  a  thousand  instances,  and  leave  thee  only  the  unavailing regret of  having  vainly  formed  them?

But, even  granting  that  death  shall  not  take  you  unawares,  and I ask  you,  upon  what  foundation  do  you  promise  yourself,  that  age shall change  your  heart,  and  incline  you  more  than  you  are  at  present to  a  new  life? Did age  change  the  heart  of  Solomon? Ah! it was  then  that  his  passions  rose  to  the  highest,  and  that  his  shameful frailty  no  longer  knew  any  bounds. Did age  prepare  Saul  for his conversion? Ah! it was  then  that,  to  his  past  errors,  he  added superstition, impiety,  hardness  of  heart,  and  despair. Perhaps in advancing  in  age,  you  shall  leave  off  certain  loose  manners,  because the disgust  alone  which  follows  them  shall  have  withdrawn  you from them;  but  you  will  not  thereby  be  converted:  you  will no longer  live  in  debachery;  but  you  will  not  repent,  you  will not do  penance,  your  heart  will  not  be  changed;  you  will  still be worldly,  ambitious,  voluptuous,  and  sensual:  you  will  live tranquil in  that  state,  because  you  will  no  longer  have  but  all  the dispositions of  these  vices  without  giving  yourself  up  to  their  excesses. Years, examples,  long  habit  of  the  world,  shall  have  served only to  harden  your  conscience,  to  substitute  indolence  and  a worldly  wisdom  in  the  room  of  the  passions,  and  to  efface  that  sense of religion  which,  in  the  youthful  period  of  life,  is  left  in  the  soul as yet  fearful  and  timorous;  you  will  die  impenitent.

And if  you  suppose  this  to  be  merely  a  movement  of  zeal,  and not a  truth  founded  on  experience,  examine  what  passes  every  day before you;  view  all  the  souls  who  have  grown  old  in  the  world, and who,  through  age  alone,  have  withdrawn  from  its  pleasures. The love  of  the  world  is  extinguished  only  with  them  under  different exteriors,  and  which  are  changed  solely  through  decency: you see  the  same  relish  for  the  world,  the  same  inclinations,  the same ardour  for  pleasures,  a  youthful  heart  in  a  changed  and  worn out body. The delights  of  our  younger  years  are  recalled  with  satisfaction;  the  imagination  dwells  upon,  and  delights  in  reviving  all that time  and  age  have  wrested  from  us;  a  blooming  youth,  and all its  attendant  amusements,  are  regarded  with  envy;  all  of  them are entered  into,  which  can  be  thought  in  any  degree  compatible with the  sedateness  proper  to  advanced  age;  pretexts  are  formed for still  mingling  in  certain  pleasures  with  decency,  and  without being exposed  to  the  public  ridicule. Lastly, in  proportion  as  the world flies  from,  and  deserts  us,  it  is  pursued  with  more  relish  than ever: the  long  habit  of  it  hath  served  only  to  render  it  more  necessary to  us,  and  to  render  us  incapable  of  doing  without  it;  and  age hath never  as  yet  been  the  cause  of  conversion.

But, even  admitting  that  this  misfortune  were  not  to  be  dreaded, the Lord,  is  he  not  the  God  of  all  times,  and  of  all  ages? Is there a single  one  of  our  days  which  belongs  not  to  him,  and  which  he