Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/63

 here, it  is  a  place  of  exile,  and  a  foreign  country,  where  tears  and sighs become  the  only  consolation  of  the  faithful. Surely, then, it is  unreasonable  to  expect  delights  in  a  place  where  every  thing recalls the  remembrance  of  our  miseries;  where  every  thing  presents new dangers  to  us;  where  we  live  surrounded  by  rocks;  where we are  a  prey  to  a  thousand  enemies;  where  every  step  endangers our  destruction;  where  all  our  days  are  marked  by some  new  infidelity;  where,  delivered  up  to  ourselves,  and without the  assistance  of  Heaven,  we  do  nothing  but  evil;  where we spread  the  corruption  of  our  heart  over  the  small  portion, even of  good,  which  grace  enables  us  to  accomplish; — it  is  unreasonable, I  say,  to  seek  felicity  and  human  consolations  in  a residence  so  melancholy  and  disagreeable  to  the  children  of  God. The days  of  our  mourning  and  sadness  are  in  this  world;  those of peace  and  joy  will  come  afterward. If, by  abandoning  God, we could  acquire  real  happiness,  our  inconstancy  would  seem  at least  to  have  an  excuse;  but,  as  I  have  already  said,  the  world  has its disgusts  as  well  as  virtue;  by  changing  our  master,  we  only change our  punishment;  in  diversifying  our  passions  we  only diversify our  sorrows. The world  has  more  smiling  aspects,  I confess,  than  virtue;  but  every  where  the  reality  is  only  trouble and vexation  of  spirit;  and  since  cares  are  inevitable  in  this  life, and we  must  encounter  disgusts,  either  on  the  part  of  the  world or of  virtue,  can  we  hesitate  for  a  moment? Is it  not  preferable  to suffer  meritoriously  than  to  suffer  in  vain,  and  be  able  to  place  our sufferings only  amongst  the  number  of  our  crimes? First truth: — Disgusts are  inevitable  in  this  life.

Reflection II. — But I  say,  in  the  second  place,  that  those  of piety  are  not  so  bitter  as  we  represent  them  to  ourselves.

For, my  brethren,  although  we  agree  that  the  kingdom  of God  suffers  violence;  that  Jesus  Christ  is  come,  in  order  to  make separations and  retrenchments  which  cost  much  to  our  nature; that the  period  of  the  present  life  is  the  time  of  the  birth  of  the new man,  and  always  followed  by  pain  and  sorrows;  and  that,  in order  to  reconcile  us  to  God,  we  must  begin  by  waging  a  cruel  war against ourselves;  yet  it  does  not  follow,  that  the  lot  of  a  soul who serves  the  Lord,  is  to  be  pitied,  and  that  the  disgusts  which accompany virtue  are  so  bitter  as  the  world  represents. Virtue has only  the  prejudices  of  the  senses  and  of  the  passions  against it; it  has  nothing  melancholy  but  the  first  glance;  and  its  bitterness is  not  such  as  to  render  it  a  condition  which  we  ought  to  fly from as  insupportable  and  wretched.

For, in  the  first  place,  we  are  sheltered  in  it  from  the  disgusts of the  world  and  the  passions;  and  were  virtue  to  possess  only  the single advantage  of  placing  us  safe  from  the  tempests  of  the  passions;  from  frenzies,  jealousies,  suspicions,  and  bitterness  of  heart; from the  void  of  a  worldly  life;  when,  by  turning  to  God,  we should  gain  only  our  freedom  from  the  yoke  of  the  world;  our being placed  above  the   reach   of  its   hopes,  of  its   revolutions,