Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/383

 twelve poor  men,  without  learning,  talents,  or  support,  hath  subjected emperors,  the  learned  equally  as  the  illiterate,  cities  and  empires; mysteries,  apparently  so  absurd,  have  overthrown  all  the sects, and  all  the  monuments  of  a  proud  reason,  and  the  folly  of the  cross  hath  been  wiser  than  all  the  wisdom  of  the  age. The whole universe  hath  conspired  against  it,  and  every  effort  of  its enemies hath  only  added  fresh  confirmation  to  it. To be  a  believer, and  to  be  destined  to  death,  were  two  things  inseparable; yet the  danger  was  only  an  additional  charm;  the  more  the  persecutions were  violent,  the  more  progress  did  faith  make;  and  the blood of  the  martyrs  was  the  seed  of  believers. O God! who doth not  feel  thy  finger  here? Who, in  these  traits,  would  not acknowledge the  character  of  thy  work? Where is  the  reason  which doth not  feel  the  vanity  of  its  doubts  to  sink  into  nothing  here,  and which still  blushes  to  submit  to  a  doctrine  to  which  the  whole  universe hath  yielded? But not  only  is  this  submission  reasonable, it is  likewise  glorious  to  men?

Part II. — Pride is  the  secret  source  of  unbelief. In that  ostentation of  reason,  which  induces  the  unbeliever  to  contemn  the  common belief,  there  is  a  deplorable  singularity  which  natters  him,  and occasions him  to  suppose  in  himself  more  vigour  of  mind  and  more light than  in  the  rest  of  men,  because  he  boldly  ventures  to  cast  off a yoke  to  which  they  have  all  submitted,  and  to  stand  up  against what all  the  rest  had  hitherto  been  contented  to  worship.

Now, in  order  to  deprive  the  unbeliver  of  so  wretched  a  consolation, it  is  only  necessary  to  demonstrate,  in  the  first  place,  that  nothing is  more  glorious  to  reason  than  faith;  glorious  on  the  side  of its  promises  for  the  future;  glorious  from  the  situation  in  which  it places  the  believer  for  the  present:  lastly,  glorious  from  the  grand models which  it  holds  out  to  his  imitation.

Glorious on  the  side  of  the  promises  contained  in  it. What are the promises  of  faith,  my  brethren? The adoption  of  God,  an  immortal society  with  him,  the  complete  redemption  of  our  bodies, the eternal  felicity  of  our  souls,  freedom  from  the  passions,  our hearts fixed  by  the  possession  of  the  true  riches,  our  minds  penetrated with  the  ineffable  light  of  the  sovereign  reason,  and  happy in the  clear  and  always  durable  view  of  the  truth. Such are  the promises of  faith;  it  informs  us  that  our  origin  is  divine,  and  our hopes eternal.

Now, I  ask,  is  it  disgraceful  to  reason  to  believe  truths  which do such  honour  to  the  immortality  of  its  nature? What, my  brethren, would  it  then  be  more  glorious  to  man  to  believe  himself  of the  same  nature  as  the  beasts,  and  to  look  forward  to  the  same  end? What, the  unbeliever  would  think  himself  more  honoured  by  the conviction that  he  is  only  a  vile  clay,  put  together  by  chance,  and which chance  shall  dissolve,  without  end,  destination,  hope,  or  any other use  of  his  reason  and  of  his  body,  than  that  of  brutally plunging himself,  like  the  brutes,  into  carnal  gratifications! What! he would  have  a  higher  opinion  of  himself,  when  viewed  in  the  light