Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/67

 enjoy him  no  more:  they  may  nourish  themselves  with  the  truth, but it  is  no  more  for  them  but  the  bread  of  tribulation  and  bitterness:  they  may  seek  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the  treasure of the  gospel,  but  it  is  like  unfortunate  slaves,  condemned  to search  for  gold  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  waste  their strength against  the  opposing  rocks:  they  may  draw  for  water from the  wells  of  Jacob,  but  they  can  only  reap  the  toil;  they  can never partake  of  those  comforts  and  consolations  which  bear  peace and refreshment  to  the  soul:  they  wish  to  draw  near  to  God,  yet every thing  separates  them  from  him;  they  wish  to  fly  from  the world, yet,  wherever  they  go,  there  they  carry  it  with  them  in  their heart: they  seek  the  society  of  virtuous  people,  yet  in  their  company they  find  a  weariness,  and  a  melancholy  stiffness,  which  disgust them  with  piety  itself:  they  apply  themselves  to  holy  books, and, alas! it is  only  a  tiresome  and  fatiguing  decency  which  supports their  patience. It appears,  that  in  virtue  they  act  a  borrowed character, so  little  does  it  become  them,  and  so  much  does  their part constrain  and  tire  them  j  and  although,  in  reality,  they  seek salvation, yet  there  appears  a  something  so  foreign  and  constrained in their  efforts,  that  we  believe  they  only  assume  the  semblance  of it;  and  that,  feeling  themselves  not  born  to  virtue,  they  wish,  at least,  to  give  themselves  the  appearance  of  it.

Disgusts and  wearinesses  should  not,  therefore,  drive  us  from virtue; since,  in  proportion  as  we  retire  from  it,  they  become every day  more  violent  and  insupportable. But candidly,  my  brethren, is  it  for  us  to  reproach  God  that  we  weary  in  his  service? Ah! did our  slaves  and  domestics  make  us  the  same  reproach; had they  to  lament  the  weariness  they  experience  in  our  service, they would  certainly  be  entitled  to  complain  of  it. Our eternal humours, from  which  they  suffer  so  much;  our  fancies  and  caprices, to  which  they  must  accommodate  themselves;  our  hours and moments,  to  which  they  must  subject  themselves;  our  pleasures and  tastes,  to  which  they  must  sacrifice  their  rest  and liberty; our  indolence,  which  alone  costs  them  so  much,  makes them endure  so  much  weariness,  pass  so  many  melancholy  moments, without  our  even  deigning  to  observe  it;  they  undoubtedly would be  entitled  to  complain  of  their  cruel  situation  and  sufferings.

Nevertheless, should  they  venture  to  say,  that  they  weary  in  our service; that  they  reap  not  the  smallest  satisfaction  from  it;  that they feel  no  inclination  for  us,  and  that  every  service  they  perform is disgusting  to  a  degree  scarcely  supportable; — alas! we would regard them  as  fools:  we  would  find  them  too  happy  in  having to support  our  humours  and  caprices;  we  would  think  them sufficiently honoured,  by  being  permitted  to  be  near  us,  and  fully recompensed for  all  their  fatigues. Ah, my  brethren! and God, does he  not  sufficiently  recompense  those  who  serve  him,  that they should  support  any  little  disgusts  or  wearinesses  which  may be found  in  his  service? Are we  not  still  too  happy,  by  his acceptance of  our  services,  in  spite  of  the  repugnances  which render them  cold  and  languid? Does he  not  sufficiently  load  us