Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/65

 those fatigues,  of  those  constraints  which  our  passions  impose  on us;  and  whose  only  fruit  is,  that  of  augmenting  our  miseries,  by fortifying  our  iniquitous  passions:  these  are  not  the  worldly  violences which  lead  to  nothing,  are  of  no  value,  and  frequently  serve only to  render  us  hateful  to  those  whom  we  would  wish  to  please; which remove  to  a  greater  distance  from  us  the  favours  we  wish to merit  by  them;  which  always  leave  us  our  hatreds,  our  desires, our uneasinesses,  and  our  pains:  these  are  violences  which  advance the  work  of  our  sanctification,  which,  by  degrees,  destroy within us  the  work  of  sin;  which  perfect,  which  adorn  us; which add  every  day  a  new  splendour  to  our  soul,  a  new  solidity to our  virtues,  a  new  force  to  our  faith,  a  new  facility  to  our approaches toward  salvation,  a  new  firmness  to  our  good  desires, and which  bear  along  with  them  the  fruit  that  rewards  and  consoles us.

I do  not  add,  that  the  source  of  our  disgusts  is  in  ourselves rather than  in  virtue;  that  it  is  our  passions  which  give  birth  to our  repugnances;  that  virtue  has  nothing  in  itself  but  what  is amiable;  that  were  our  hearts  not  depraved  through  love  to  the flesh, we  would  find  nothing  sweet  and  consoling  but  the  pleasures of innocence;  that  we  are  born  for  virtue  and  righteousness;  that these ought  to  be  our  first  inclinations,  as  they  are  our  first  distinction;  and  if  we  find  different  dispositions  within  us,  at  least  we have  not  virtue,  but  only  ourselves  to  blame. I could  add,  that perhaps it  is  the  peculiar  character  of  our  heart,  which  spreads for us  so  much  bitterness  through  the  detail  of  a  Christian  life; that, being  born  perhaps  with  more  lively  passions,  and  a  heart more sensible  to  the  world  and  to  pleasure,  virtue  appears  more melancholy and  insupportable  to  us;  that,  not  finding  in  the  service of  God  the  same  attraction  which  we  have  found  in  that  of the  world,  our  heart,  accustomed  to  lively  and  animated  pleasures, is no  longer  capable  of  reconciling  itself  to  the  expected  dreariness of a  Christian  life;  that  the  endless  dissipation  in  which  we  have lived, renders  the  uniformity  of  duties  more  irksome  to  us;  the agitation of  parties  and  pleasures,  retirement  more  disgusting;  our total submission  to  the  passions,  prayer  more  painful;  the  frivolous maxims  with  which  our  minds  are  occupied,  the  truths  of  faith more insipid  and  more  unknown;  that  our  mind,  being  filled  with only vain  things,  with  fabulous  reading,  if  nothing  worse,  with  chimerical adventures,  and  theatrical  phantoms,  is  no  longer  capable of relishing  any  thing  solid;  that,  never  having  accustomed  ourselves to any  thing  serious,  it  is  rare  that  the  seriousness  of  piety  does  not disgust us,  and  that  we  find  not  God  to  our  taste,  if  I  dare  speak  in this  manner,  we  who  have  never  relished  any  thing  but  the  world and its  vain  hopes. This being  the  case,  what  happiness  when  we bring  back  to  virtue  a  heart  yet  uncorrupted  by  the  world! What happiness to  enter  into  the  service  of  God,  with  happy  inclinations and some  remains  of  our  original  innocence! — when we  begin  early to know  the  Lord;  when  we  return  to  him  in  that  first  season  of our  life  when  the  world  has  not  yet  made  such  profound  and  des-