Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/60



Behold then,  my  brethren,  the  marks  of  gratitude  which  Jesus Christ receives  from  men;  behold  the  consolations  which  heaven prepares for  him  in  the  painful  exercise  of  his  ministry. There he is  treated  as  a  Samaritan,  and  as  one  possessed  by  the  devil:  here they take  up  stones  to  stone  him. It is  thus  that  the  Son  of  God has passed  all  the  time  of  his  mortal  life,  continually  exposed to the  most  obstinate  contradiction,  finding  only  hearts  insensible to his  kindnesses,  and  rebellious  to  the  truths  which  he  announced to them:  yet  never  did  he  allow  the  smallest  sign  of  impatience,  or the  least  complaint  to  escape  him.

And we,  my  brethren,  we,  his  members  and  his  disciples,  alas! the smallest  disgusts,  the  smallest  contradictions  we  experience in the  practice  of  virtue,  revolt  our  delicacy. From the  moment we cease  to  relish  those  attractions,  that  sensibility  which  softens every thing  to  be  found  painful  in  duty,  there  is  nothing  but  complaint and  murmurs:  troubled,  discouraged,  we  are  tempted  almost to  abandon  God,  and  to  return  to  the  world,  as  a  more agreeable and  commodious  master. In a  word,  we  would  wish to find  nothing  in  the  service  of  God  but  pleasure  and  consolation.

But our  divine  Master,  in  calling  us  to  his  service,  has  he  not declared, in  express  terms,  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  only  to be  gained  by  conquest;  and  that  none  but  those  who  do  violence upon themselves  can  force  it? And what  do  these  words  signify, unless that,  entering  into  the  service  of  God,  we  are  not  to  promise ourselves that  we  shall  always  find  in  it  a  certain  sweetness,  a  certain relish,  which  deprives  it  of  all  pain,  and  causes  it  to  be  loved? On the  contrary,  it  is  almost  certain,  that  in  it  we  shall  experience disgusts and  contradictions  which  will  exercise  our  patience,  and  put our fidelity  to  frequent  trials;  that  we  shall  often  feel  the  weight of the  yoke,  without  feeling  the  unction  of  grace  which  renders it light  and  easy,  because  piety  essentially  opposes  the  gratification of our  former  tastes  and  original  inclinations,  for  which  we  always preserve some  unhappy  remains  of  tenderness,  and  which  we  cannot mortify  without  making  the  heart  suffer;  that,  besides,  we shall  have  to  undergo  the  eternal  caprices  of  an  inconstant  and volatile heart,  so  difficult  to  fix,  that,  without  reason  or  foundation, it is  disgusted  in  a  moment  with  what  it  formerly  loved  most. Behold, my  brethren,  what  we  ought  to  have  expected  when  we embraced  the  cause  of  virtue. Here, it  is  the  time  of  combat  and