Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/510

 forced to  render  glory  to  God,  and,  in  recalling  your  past  errors,  to admire  the  prodigy  of  your  present  lot. Take, even  from  your wretchedness itself,  new  motives  of  confidence:  bless,  in  advance, the merciful  wisdom  of  that  Being,  who,  even  from  your  passions, shall know  how  to  extract  advantages  to  his  glory:  every  thing co-operates toward  the  salvation  of  his  chosen,  and  he  permitteth great excesses  only  in  order  to  operate  great  mercies. God ever wisheth the  salvation  of  his  creature;  and,  from  the  moment  that we form  a  wish  of  returning  to  him,  our  only  dread  ought  to  be, not that  his  justice  reject  us,  but  lest  our  intention  be  not  sincere.

And the  surest  proof  of  our  sincerity  is  the  absenting  ourselves from every  occasion  which  may  place  an  obstacle  to  our  resurrection and  our  deliverance;  obstacle,  figured  by  the  stone  which shut up  the  mouth  of  Lazarus's  tomb,  and  which  Jesus  Christ orders to  be  removed  before  he  begins  to  operate  the  miracle of his  resurrection. — Remove the  stone:  second  mean,  marked  in our  Gospel.

In effect,  every  day  shows  sinners,  who,  tired  of  disorder,  wish to return  to  God,  but  who  cannot  prevail  upon  themselves  to  quit those objects,  those  places,  those  situations,  and  those  rocks, which have  been  the  cause  of  their  removal  from  him:  they  vainly persuade themselves  that  they  shall  be  able  to  extinguish  their passions, to  terminate  a  disorderly  life;  in  a  word,  to  rise  from the dead,  without  removing  the  stone. They even  make  some efforts: they  address  themselves  to  men  and  God;  they  adopt measures for  a  change;  but  it  is  of  those  measures  which,  not removing the  dangers,  do  not,  in  the  smallest  degree,  forward their safety;  and  thus  their  whole  life  sorrowfully  passes  away  in detesting  their  chains,  and  in  the  utter  inability  of  breaking  them asunder.

Whence comes  this,  my  brethren? It is  that  the  passions  begin to weaken  only  after  the  removal  of  such  objects  as  have  lighted them up;  it  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  the  heart  can  change  while every thing  around  us  continues,  with  regard  to  us,  the  same:  you would become  chaste,  yet  you  live  in  the  midst  of  the  dangers,  the connexions, the  familiarities,  the  pleasures,  which  have  a  thousand times corrupted  your  heart;  you  would  wish  to  reflect  seriously  on your  eternity,  and  to  place  some  interval  between  life  and  death, yet you  are  unwilling  to  place  any  between  death  and  those  debaucheries which  prevent  you  from  reflecting  on  your  salvation; and, in  the  midst  of  agitations,  pleasures,  trifles,  and  worldly  expectations, from  which,  on  no  account,  will  you  abate,  you  expect that the  inclination  and  relish  for  a  Christian  life  will  come  to  you unsought-for: you  would  that  your  heart  form  new  propensities, surrounded by  every  thing  which  nourishes  and  fortifies  the  old; and that  the  lamp  of  faith  and  grace  blaze  up  in  the  midst  of winds  and  tempests, — that  light  which,  even  in  the  sanctuary,  is so  often  extinguished  through  want  of  oil  and  nourishment,  and,  to lukewarm  and  retired  souls,  converts  into  a  danger  even  the  safety of their  retreat.