Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/505

 throw off  that  remainder  of  restraint  and  modesty  which  make  us still  cautious  of  the  eyes  of  men;  they  wish  to  riot  in  disorder  without precaution  or  care:  and  then,  servants,  friends,  connexions,  the city, and  country,  all  feel  the  infection  of  their  irregularities  and example. Our rank,  our  elevation,  no  longer  serve  but  to  render more striking  and  more  durable  the  scandal  of  our  debaucheries; in a  thousand  places  our  excesses  serve  as  a  model:  the  view  of our  manners  perhaps  strengthens,  in  secret,  consciences  whom guilt still  rendered  uneasy:  perhaps  they  even  cite  us,  and  make use of  our  example,  in  seducing  innocence,  and  in  conquering  a still  timorous  modesty;  and,  even  after  our  death,  the  fame  of  our debaucheries shall  stain  the  history  of  men,  shall  perhaps  embellish lascivious  tales,  and,  long  after  our  day,  in  ages  yet  to  come, the remembrance  of  our  crimes  shall  still  be  an  occasion  and  a source  of  guilt.

Lastly, (but  I  would  not  dare  to  enlarge  here,)  the  corruption which habitual  guilt  sheds  through  the  whole  interior  of  the  sinner is so  universal  that  even  his  body  is  infected;  debauchery  leaves the shameful  marks  of  his  irregularities  on  his  flesh:  the  infection of his  soul  often  extends  even  to  a  body  which  he  has  made  subservient to  ignominy. He says,  in  advance,  to  corruption,  like Job, "  Thou  art  my  father;  and  to  the  worm,  thou  art  my  mother and  my  sister!" The corruption  of  his  body  is  a  shocking  picture of that  of  his  soul.

Great God! can I  then  flatter  myself  that  thou  wilt  yet  cast  upon me some  looks  of  compassion! Wilt thou  not  groan  at  the  sight of that  mass  of  crimes  and  putrefaction  which  my  soul  presents  to thine  eyes,  as  thou  now  groanest  in  the  spirit  over  the  tomb  of  Lazarus? Ah! avert thine  holy  eyes  from  the  spectacle  of  my  profound wretchedness; but  let  me  no  more  turn  away  from  it  myself,  and let me  be  enabled  to  view  myself  with  all  that  horror  which  my  situation deserves:  tear  asunder  the  veil  which  hides  me  from  myself; my evils  shall  in  part  be  done  away  from  the  moment  that  I  shall be able  to  see  and  to  know  them.

And behold  the  second  circumstance  of  the  deplorable  situation of Lazarus;  a  mournful  cloth  covers  his  face:  that  is  the  profound blindness which  forms  the  second  character  of  habitual  sin.

I confess  that  every  sin  is  an  error  which  makes  us  mistake  evil for good;  it  is  a  false  judgment  which  makes  us  seek  in  the  creature that ease,  grandeur,  and  independence  which  we  can  find  in  God alone; it  is  a  mist  which  hides  order,  truth,  and  righteousness  from our eyes,  and,  in  their  place,  substitutes  vain  phantoms. Nevertheless, a first  falling  off  from  God  does  not  altogether  extinguish our lights;  nor  is  it  always  productive  of  total  darkness. It is  true that the  Spirit  of  God,  source  of  all  light,  retires,  and  no  longer dwells within  us;  but  some  traces  of  light  are  still  left  in  the  soul: thus, though  the  sun  be  already  withdrawn  from  our  hemisphere, yet certain  rays  of  his  light  still  tinge  the  sky,  and  form,  as  it  were, an imperfect  day;  it  is  only  in  proportion  as  he  sinks  that  the  gloom gains, and  the  darkness  of  night  at  last  prevails. In the  same  man-