Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/69

 knowing the  world? Can thy  yoke  appear  grievous,  after  quitting that of  the  passions? And the  thorns  of  thy  cross,  are  they  not flowers, when  compared  to  those  which  the  ways  of  iniquity  and the world  have  sown?

Thus every  day  we  hear  the  worshippers  of  the  world  decry  the world they  serve;  complain  with  the  utmost  dissatisfaction  of their  lot;  utter  the  keenest  invectives  against  its  injustice  and abuses; censure,  condemn,  and  despise  it:  but  find  me,  if  you  can, any truly  pious  souls,  who  send  forth  invectives  against  virtue; who condemn  or  despise  it;  and  who  detest  their  lot  of  being  embarked in  a  voyage  so  full  of  chagrin  and  bitterness. The world itself continually  envies  the  destiny  of  the  virtuous,  and  acknowledges that  none  are  happy  but  the  upright;  but  find  me  a  truly pious soul,  who  envies  the  destiny  of  the  world;  who  publishes that none  are  happy  but  its  partisans;  who  admires  the  wisdom of their  choice,  and  regards  his  own  condition  as  the  most  miserable and  the  most  foolish: — what  shall  I  say? We have  frequently seen sinners,  who,  through  despair  and  disgust  at  the  world,  have fled to  opposite  extremes;  lose  rest,  health,  reason,  and  life;  fall into states  of  horror,  and  the  blackest  melancholy,  and  no  longer regard life  but  as  the  greatest  torment. But where  are  the righteous, whom  the  disgusts  which  accompany  virtue  have  thrown into such  dreadful  extremities? They sometimes  complain  of  their sorrows; but  they  still  prefer  them  to  the  pleasures  of  the  passions: virtue, it  is  true,  may  sometimes  appear  melancholy  and  unpleasing to them;  but,  with  all  her  sadness,  they  love  her  much  more  than guilt: they  would  wish  a  few  more  sensible  supports  and  consolations from  the  Father  of  mercies,  but  they  detest  those  of  the world: they  suffer,  but  the  same  hand  which  proves,  supports them, and  they  are  not  tempted  beyond  their  strength:  they  feel what you  call  the  weight  of  the  yoke  of  Jesus  Christ;  but,  in  recalling the  load  of  iniquity,  under  which  they  had  so  long  groaned, they find  their  present  lot  happy,  and  the  comparison  calms  and comforts them.

In effect,  my  brethren,  in  the  first  place,  the  violences  which  we do  to  ourselves,  are  much  more  agreeable  than  those  which  come from without,  and  happen  in  spite  of  us. Now, the  violences of virtue  are,  at  least,  voluntary:  these  are  crosses  which  we choose  from  reason,  and  impose  upon  ourselves  from  duty:  they are often  bitter,  but  we  are  consoled  by  the  reflection  of  having chosen them. But the  disgusts  of  the  world  are  forced  crosses, which come  without  our  being  consulted:  it  is  a  hateful  yoke, which is  imposed  on  us  against  our  will:  we  wish  it  not;  we detest  it;  yet,  nevertheless,  we  must  drink  all  the  bitterness  of the  cup. In virtue,  we  only  suffer,  because  it  is  our  inclination to suffer:  in  the  world,  we  suffer  so  much  the  more,  in  proportion as we  wish  it  less,  and  as  our  inclinations  are  inimical  to  our sufferings.

Secondly. The disgusts  accompanying  virtue  are  a  burden only to  indolence  and   laziness;    these   are   repugnances,   bitter