Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/74

 melancholy,  soothe  our  endless  anguishes,  and  enable  us  to  find a certain  degree  of  sweetness  even  in  the  evils  incident  to  our nature. It is  that  which  renders  retirement  sweet,  and  enables us to  enjoy  repose,  far  from  the  world  and  its  amusements;  it  is that  which  makes  days  pass  quickly,  and  occupies  in  peace  and tranquillity every  moment;  and  though  apparently  it  allows  us more  leisure  than  a  worldly  life,  yet  it  leaves  a  much  smaller  portion to  weariness.

Great God! what honour  does  not  the  world  unintentionally  pay to thy  service! What an  affecting  eulogium  on  the  destiny  of  the upright is  the  lot  of  sinners! How well,  my  God,  thou  knowest  to extort  glory  and  praise  from  even  thy  enemies! and how  little  excuse thou  leavest  to  those  souls  who  depart  from  thy  paths,  since, in order  to  draw  them  from  virtue,  thou  makest  a  resource  to  them even of  their  crimes,  and  employest  their  wants  to  recall  them  to thy  eternal  mercies.

Now to  God,  &c.

Nothing more  naturally  represents  the  situation  of  a  languid  and lukewarm soul,  than  the  state  of  infirmity  in  which  the  gospel  here describes Peter's  mother-in-law  to  have  been. It may  be  said, that coldness  and  indolence  in  the  ways  of  God,  though  otherwise accompanied with  a  life  free  from  enormities,  is  a  kind  of  secret  and dangerous fever,  which  gradually  undermines  the  powers  of  the soul, changes  all  its  good  dispositions,  weakens  its  faculties,  insensibly corrupts  its  inward  parts,  alters  its  propensities,  spreads  a universal  bitterness  through  all  its  duties,  disgusts  it  with  every thing proper,  with  all  holy  and  necessary  nourishment;  and  finishes, at last,  by  a  total  extinction  and  an  inevitable  death.

This languor  of  the  soul,  in  the  path  of  salvation,  is  so  much  the more dangerous  as  it  is  less  observed.

Our exemption  from  open  irregularity  gives  us  confidence. The external regularity  of  conduct,  which  attracts  from  men  those praises due  only  to  virtue,  flatters  us;  and  the  secret  comparison we make  of  our  morals  with  the  excesses  of  those  avowed  sinners whom the  world  and  their  passions  govern,  unites  to  blind  us. We regard  our  situation  as  a  state,  less  perfect  indeed,  but  always certain of  salvation;  seeing  our  conscience  can  only  reproach  us with  indolence  and  negligence  in  the  discharge  of  our  duties;  too