Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/384

 of an  unfortunate  wretch,  accidentally  placed  upon  the  earth,  who looks forward  to  nothing  beyond  life,  whose  sweetest  hope  is  that of sinking  back  to  nonentity,  who  relates  to  nothing  but  himself,  and is reduced  to  find  his  felicity  in  himself,  though  he  can  there  find  only anxieties and  secret  terrors! Is this,  then,  that  miserable  distinction by which  the  pride  of  unbelief  is  so  much  flattered? Great God! how glorious  to  thy  truth,  to  have  no  enemies  but  men  of  this  character! For my  part,  as  St.  Ambrose  formerly  said  to  the  unbelievers of  his  time,  I  glory  in  believing  truths  so  honourable  to man,  and  in  expecting  the  fulfilment  of  promises  so  consolatory. To refuse  belief  to  them  is  sorrily  to  punish  one^s  self. Ah! if I be  deceived  in  preferring  the  hope  of  one  day  enjoying  the  eternal society of  the  righteous  in  the  bosom  of  God,  to  the  humbling  belief of  being  of  the  same  nature  as  the  beasts,  it  is  an  error  dear to me,  which  I  delight  in,  and  upon  which  I  wish  never  to  be  undeceived.

But if  faith  be  glorious  on  the  side  of  its  promises  for  the  future, it is  not  less  so  from  the  situation  in  which  it  places  the  believer for the  present. And here,  my  brethren,  figure  to  yourselves  a truly  righteous  man,  who  lives  by  faith,  and  you  will  acknowledge that there  is  nothing  on  the  earth  more  sublime. Master of  his desires and  of  all  the  movements  of  his  heart;  exercising  a  glorious empire over  himself;  in  patience  and  in  equanimity  enjoying  his soul, and  regulating  all  his  passions  by  the  bridle  of  temperance; humble in  prosperity,  firm  under  misfortunes,  cheerful  in  tribulations, peaceful  with  those  who  hate  peace,  callous  to  injuries,  feeling for  the  afflictions  of  those  who  trespass  against  him,  faithful  in his  promises,  religious  in  his  friendships,  and  unshaken  in  his  duties;  little  affected  with  riches,  which  he  contemns;  fatigued  with honours, which  he  dreads;  greater  than  the  world,  which  he  considers only  as  a  mass  of  earth — what  dignity!

Philosophy conquered  one  vice  only  by  another. It pompously taught contempt  of  the  world,  merely  to  attract  the  applauses  of the  world;  it  sought  more  the  glory  of  wisdom  than  wisdom  itself. In destroying  the  other  passions,  it  continually,  upon  their  ruins, raised up  one  much  more  dangerous;  I  mean  to  say,  pride:  like  that prince of  Babylon  who  overthrew  the  altars  of  the  national  gods, merely to  exalt  upon  their  wrecks  his  own  impious  statue,  and that monstrous  colossus  of  pride  which  he  wanted  the  whole  earth to worship.

But faith  exalts  the  just  man  above  even  his  virtue. Through it he  is  still  greater  in  the  secrecy  of  his  heart,  and  in  the  eyes  of God  than  before  men. He forgives  without  pride;  he  is  disinterested without  show;  he  suffers  without  wishing  it  to  be  known; he moderates  his  passions  without  perceiving  it  himself;  he  alone is ignorant  of  the  glory  and  of  the  merit  of  his  actions;  far  from graciously looking  upon  himself,  he  is  ashamed  of  his  virtues  much more than  the  sinner  is  of  his  vices;  far  from  courting  applauses, he hides  his  works  from  the  light,  as  if  they  were  deeds  of  darkness;   love  of  duty  is  the  sole  source  of  his  virtue;  he  acts  under