Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/547

 sinners become  the  apologists  of  virtue,  and  the  life  of  the  world to pass  sorrowfully  away  in  doing  what  they  condemn,  and  flying from what  they  approve.

Such is  the  manner  in  which  the  present  age  becomes  a  source of consolatory  reflections  to  a  Christian  soul;  but,  in  the  thought of futurity,  he  also  finds  consolations  which  are  changed  into inward and  continual  terrors  for  sinners:  last  advantage  drawn by the  just  from  the  lights  of  faith. The magnificence  of  its  promises sustains  and  consoles  them:  they  await  the  blessed  hope, and that  happy  moment  when  they  shall  be  associated  with  the church of  heaven,  reunited  to  their  brethren  whom  they  had  left on the  earth,  received  eternal  citizens  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, incorporated in  that  immortal  assembly  of  the  elect,  where  charity will be  the  law  that  shall  unite  them;  truth,  the  flame  that  shall enlighten them;  and  eternity  the  measure  of  their  felicity.

These thoughts  are  so  much  the  more  consoling  to  the  godly, as they  are  founded  on  the  truth  of  God  himself. They know  that, in sacrificing  the  present,  they  sacrifice  nothing;  that  in  the  twinkling of  an  eye,  all  shall  have  passed  away;  that  whatever  must have an  end  cannot  long  endure;  that  this  moment  of  tribulation ought to  be  reckoned  as  nothing,  when  put  in  competition  with that eternal  weight  of  glory  which  he  prepareth  for  us;  and  that the rapid  passage  of  present  things  scarcely  deserves  that  we  should be at  the  pains  of  numbering  the  years  and  the  ages,

I know  that  faith  may  subsist  with  criminal  manners;  and  that the sanctifying  grace  is  often  lost  without  losing  a  sincere  submission to  the  truths  revealed  to  us  by  the  Spirit  of  God. But the certitude of  faith,  so  consoling  to  the  righteous  soul,  is  no  longer for the  sinner  who  still  believes  but  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  inward anxieties and  cruel  terrors. For, the  more  that  sinners  like  you, who bear  upon  your  conscience  the  sink  of  a  whole  life  of  irregularity, are  convinced  of  the  truths  of  faith,  the  more  inevitable  must the punishments  and  the  misery  appear  with  which  it  threatens such sinners. All the  truths  offered  to  your  faith,  in  the  holy  doctrine, excite  fresh  alarms  in  your  breast. Those divine  lights, which are  the  source  of  all  consolation  to  believing  souls,  become, within you,  only  avenging  lights,  which  disquiet,  agonize,  and  judge you; which,  like  a  mirror,  hold  up  continually  to  your  sight  what you would  wish  never  to  see;  which  enlighten  you,  in  spite  of yourselves,  on  what  you  would  wish  to  be  for  ever  ignorant. Your faith itself  constitutes  your  punishment  before-hand. Your religion is,  here  below,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  so,  your  hell:  and  the more you  are  convinced  of  the  truth,  the  more  unhappy  do  you live. O God! how great  is  thy  goodness  toward  man,  in  having rendered virtue  necessary  even  to  his  quiet,  and  in  thus  attracting him  to  thee,  by  making  it  impossible  for  him  to  be  happy  without thee!

And here,  my  dear  hearer,  allow  me  to  recall  you  to  yourself. When the  lot  of  a  criminal  soul  should  not  be  so  fearful  for  the  age to come,  see  if,  even  in  this  world,  it  appears  much  to  be  envied: