Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/386

 passions, or  if  religion  had  countenanced  them,  unbelief  would never have  appeared  upon  the  earth. And a  proof  that  what  I  say is true,  is,  that  in  the  moments  when  you  are  disgusted  with  guilt, you imperceptibly  turn  toward  religion;  in  the  moments  when  your passions are  more  cool,  your  doubts  diminish;  you  render,  as  if  in spite  of  yourself,  a  secret  homage  in  the  bottom  of  your  heart  to the  truth  of  faith:  in  vain  you  try  to  weaken  it,  you  cannot  succeed in extinguishing  it;  at  the  first  signal  of  death,  you  raise  your  eyes toward heaven,  you  acknowledge  the  God  whose  finger  is  upon  you, you cast  yourself  upon  the  bosom  of  your  Father  and  the  Author of your  being;  you  tremble  over  a  futurity  which  you  had  vaunted not to  believe;  and,  humbled  under  the  hand  of  the  Almighty,  on the  point  of  falling  upon  and  crushing  you  like  a  worm  of  the  earth, you confess  that  he  is  alone  great,  alone  wise,  alone  immortal,  and that man  is  only  vanity  and  lies.

Lastly. If fresh  proofs  were  necessary  to  my  subject,  I  could prove to  you  how  glorious  faith  is  to  man,  on  the  side  of  the  grand models which  it  holds  out  for  our  imitation. Consider Abraham, Isaac, and  Jacob,  said  formerly  the  Jews  to  their  children. Consider the holy  men  who  have  gone  before  you,  to  whom  their  faith hath merited  so  honourable  a  testimony,  said  formerly  St.  Paul  to the  faithful,  after  having  related  to  them,  in  that  beautiful  chapter of his  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  their  names,  and  the  most  wonderful circumstances  of  their  history,  from  age  to  age.

Behold the  excellency  of  the  Christian  faith. Recollect all  the great men  who,  in  all  ages,  have  submitted  to  it;  such  magnanimous princes,  such  religious  conquerors,  such  venerable  pastors, such enlightened  philosophers,  such  estimable  learned  men,  wits so vaunted  in  their  age,  such  noble  martyrs,  such  penitent  anchorites, such  pure  and  constant  virgins,  heroes  in  every  description of virtue. Philosophy preached  a  pompous  wisdom;  but  its  sage was no  where  to  be  found. Here what  a  cloud  of  witnesses! What an uninterrupted  tradition  of  Christian  heroes  from  the  blood  of Abel  down  to  us!

Now, I  ask,  shall  you  blush  to  tread  in  the  steps  of  so  many  illustrious names? Place on  the  one  side  all  the  great  men  whom, in all  ages,  religion  hath  given  to  the  world,  and  on  the  other  that small number  of  black  and  desperate  minds  whom  unbelief  hath produced. Doth it  appear  more  honourable  for  you  to  rank  yourself among  the  latter  party? To adopt  for  guides,  and  for  your models, those  men  whose  names  are  only  recollected  with  horror, those monsters  whom  it  hath  pleased  Providence  to  permit  that nature should,  from  time  to  time,  bring  forth;  or  the  Abrahams, the Josephs,  the  Moseses,  the  Davids,  the  apostolic  men,  the  righteous of  the  ancient  and  of  modern  times? Support, if  you  can, this comparison. Ah! said formerly  St.  Jerome,  on  a  different occasion, if  you  believe  me  in  error,  it  is  glorious  for  me  to  be  deceived with  such  guides.

And here,  my  brethren,  leaving  unbelievers  for  a  moment,  allow me to  address  myself  to  you. Avowed unbelief  is  a  vice  perhaps