Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/33

 tuous, more  penitent? Alas! it is  not  external  agitations  which check you;  it  is  the  disorder  within;  it  is  the  tumultuous  ardour of  the  passions. It is  not  from  the  cares  of  fortune,  and the embarrassments  of  events  and  business,  says  a  holy  father, that confusion  and  trouble  proceed;  it  is  from  the  irregular desires of  the  soul:  a  heart  in  which  God  reigns,  is  tranquil every where. Your cares  for  the  world  are  only  incompatible with salvation  because  the  affections  which  attach  you  to  it  are criminal. It is  not  your  stations,  but  your  inclinations,  which become rocks  of  destruction  to  you. Now, from  these  inclinations you  will  never  be  able  to  free  yourselves  with  the  same facility as  from  your  cares  and  embarrassments;  they  will  afterwards be  even  more  lively,  more  unconquerable  than  ever:  besides this  fund  of  weakness  which  they  draw  from  your  corruption, they  will  have  that  force  and  strength  acquired  by habit  through  time  and  years. You think,  that,  in  attaining  rest, every thing  will  be  accomplished;  and  you  will  feel,  that  your passions, more  lively  in  proportion  as  they  no  longer  find  external resources  to  employ  them,  will  turn  all  their  violence against yourselves;  and  you  will  then  be  surprised  to  find,  in your  own  hearts,  the  same  obstacles  which  at  present  you  believe to  be  only  in  what  surrounds  you. This leprosy,  if  I  may venture to  speak  in  this  manner,  is  not  attached  to  your  clothes, to your  places,  to  the  walls  of  your  palaces,  so  that,  by  quitting them,  you  may  rid  yourselves  of  it;  it  has  gained  root in your  flesh. It is  not  by  renouncing  your  cares,  therefore,  that you must  labour  toward  curing  yourselves;  it  is  by  purifying yourselves that  you  must  sanctify  your  cares. Every thing  is  pure to those  who  are  pure,  otherwise  your  wound  will  follow  you,  even into the  leisure  of  your  solitude;  like  that  king  of  Judea  mentioned in the  book  of  Kings,  who  in  vain  abdicated  his  throne,  delivered up all  the  insignia,  as  well  as  the  cares  of  royalty,  into  the  hands of his  son,  and  withdrew  himself  into  the  heart  of  his  palace:  he carried  with  him  the  leprosy  with  which  the  Lord  had  struck  him, and beheld  that  shameful  disease  pursue  him  even  into  his  retreat. External cares  find  neither  their  innocency  nor  their  malignity,  but in our  own  hearts;  and  it  is  ourselves  alone  who  render  the  occupations of  the  world  dangerous,  as  it  is  ourselves  alone  who  render those of  heaven  insipid  and  disgusting.

And behold,  my  brethren,  the  last  reason  why  we  show  so  little fervour and  animation  in  the  affair  of  our  eternal  salvation, — is because  we  fulfil  the  duties  necessary  to  accomplish  it  without  pleasure, and,  as  it  were,  against  our  will. The slightest  obligations of piety  appear  hard  to  us;  whatever  we  do  for  heaven  tires  us,  exhausts us,  displeases  us:  prayer  confines  our  mind  too  much;  retirement wearies  us;  holy  reading,  from  the  first,  fatigues  the  attention; the  intercourse  of  the  upright  is  languid,  and  has  nothing sprightly or  amusing  in  it;  in  a  word,  we  find  something,  I  know not what,  of  melancholy  in  virtue,  which  occasions  us  to  fulfil  its