Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/305

 do you,  in  delaying,  but  render  your  evils  more  incurable,  and  take away from  the  hope  of  your  conversion  every  resource  which  might still be  left  to  you?

You perhaps  flatter  yourself  that  there  are  no  lasting  passions, and that,  sooner  or  later,  time  and  disgust  shall  withdraw  you  from them.

To this  I  answer,  first,  that,  in  all  probability,  you  shall  indeed become tired  of  the  objects  which  at  present  enslave  you,  but  that your passions  shall  not  be  consequently  ended. You will  doubtless form  new  ties,  but  you  will  not  form  to  yourself  a  new  heart. There are  no  eternal  passions,  I  confess,  but  corruption  and  licentiousness are  almost  always  so;  the  passions  which  are  terminated solely by  disgust,  always  leave  the  heart  open  for  the  reception  of some  other,  and  it  is  commonly  a  new  fire  which  expels  and  extinguishes the  first. Call to  your  remembrance  what  has  hitherto happened to  you. You firmly  thought  that,  were  such  an  engagement once  at  an  end,  you  should  then  be  free,  and  wholly  at  liberty to return  to  your  God;  you  fixed  upon  that  happy  moment  as  the term for  your  penitence:  that  engagement  has  been  terminated;  death, inconstancy, disgust,  or  some  other  accident,  has  broken  it,  and nevertheless you  are  not  converted;  new  opportunities  have  offered, you have  formed  new  ties,  you  have  forgotten  your  former  resolutions, and  your  last  state  is  become  worse  than  the  first. The passions which  are  not  extinguished  by  grace  serve  merely  to  light  up and  to  prepare  the  heart  for  new  ones.

I answer,  secondly,  when  all  your  criminal  engagements  should even be  ended,  and  that  no  particular  object  should  interest  your heart, if  time  and  disgust  alone  have  effected  this,  yet  will  not  your conversion be  more  advanced. You will  still  hold  to  all,  in  no longer  holding  to  any  thing;  you  will  find  yourself  in  a  certain vague state  of  indolence  and  of  insensibility,  more  removed  from the kingdom  of  God  than  even  the  ardour  of  mad  passions;  your heart, free  from  any  particular  passion,  will  be  as  if  filled  with  a  universal passion;  if  I  may  speak  in  this  manner,  with  an  immense  void which will  wholly  occupy  it. It will  even  be  so  much  the  more difficult for  you  to  quit  this  state,  as  you  will  have  nothing  sufficiently striking  to  catch  at. You will  find  yourself  without  vigour, taste, or  inclination  for  salvation;  it  is  a  calm  from  which  you  will find it  more  difficult  to  extricate  yourself  than  even  from  the  tempest, for  the  same  winds  which  cause  the  storm  may  sometimes  drive us fortunately  into  port;  but  the  greater  the  calm  is,  the  more certainly it  leads  to  destruction.

But, lastly,  you  say,  We  would  willingly  change  and  adopt  the party of  a  more  reasonable  and  more  Christian  life;  we  feel  the utter emptiness  of  the  world  and  of  all  its  pleasures;  we  enter  into amusements, and  into  a  certain  dissipation,  without  relish,  and  as if  with  regret;  we  would  wish  to  renounce  them,  and  seriously  to labour  toward  our  salvation;  but  this  first  step  startles  us. It is  a matter  of  notoriety  which  engages  us  toward  the  public,  and  which we have  many  doubts  of  being  able  to  support;  we  are  of  a  rank