Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/81

 your duties  and  rules  appear. What formerly  appeared  essential, no longer  appears  but  a  vain  scruple. The omissions,  which,  in the  period  of  fervour  for  duty  and  religion,  would  have  excited  in you  the  warmest  compunctions,  are  now  no  longer  regarded  even as faults. The principles,  the  judgment,  the  light  of  the  mind, are all  changed.

Now, in  this  situation,  who  has  told  you,  that,  in  the  judgment which you  form  on  the  nature  of  your  infidelities  and  your  daily departure from  virtue,  you  do  not  deceive  yourselves? Who has told you,  that  the  errors  which  you  think  so  slight  are  in  reality so; and  that  the  distant  boundaries  which  you  prescribe  to  guilt, and within  which  every  thing  to  you  appears  venial,  are  really  the limits of  the  law? Alas! the most  enlightened  guides  know  not how to  distinguish  clearly  in  a  cold  and  unbelieving  conscience. These are  what  I  may  call  the  evils  of  that  langour  in  which  we know  nothing;  where  the  wisest  of  us  can  say  nothing  with  certainty;  and  of  which  the  secret  cause  is  always  an  enigma. You are sensible  yourselves,  that,  in  this  state  of  relaxation,  you  experience in  your  hearts  certain  doubts  and  embarrassments  which you can  never  sufficiently  clear  up;  that  in  your  consciences  there always remains  something  secret  and  inexplicable,  which  you  never wish to  search  into,  or  above  half  expose. These are  not  exaggerations, it  is  the  real  state  and  bottom  of  your  soul,  which  you feel a  reserve  to  lay  open. You are  sensible,  that,  even  when prostrating yourselves  before  the  Almighty,  the  confession  of  your guilt never  entirely  corresponds  with  the  most  intimate  dispositions of your  heart;  that  it  never  paints  your  internal  situation  such  as in  reality  it  is;  and,  in  a  word,  that  there  always  exists  in  your heart something  more  criminal  than  what  in  any  statement  of  it you  can  bring  yourselves  to  avow. And, indeed,  how  can  you  be certain,  that  in  those  continual  self-gratifications;  in  that  effeminacy of  manners  which  composes  your  life;  in  that  attention  to every  thing  which  may  flatter  the  senses,  or  remove  disquiet  from you; to  sacrifice  to  indolence  and  laziness,  all  which  appears  not essential in  your  duties;  how  can  you  be  certain,  I  say,  that  your self-love is  not  arrived  at  that  fatal  point  which  serves  to  give  it dominion  over  your  heart,  and  for  ever  banish  from  it  Christian charity? Who is  able  to  inform  you,  in  those  frequent  and  voluntary infidelities,  where,  comforted  by  their  pretended  insignificancy, you oppose  the  internal  grace  which  endeavours  to  turn  you  from them; you  continually  act  contrary  to  your  own  reason  and  judgment:  whether  this  internal  contempt  of  the  voice  of  God,  this formal and  daily  abuse  of  your  own  lights  and  grace  from  God,  be not  an  outrage  upon  the  Divine  goodness;  a  criminal  contempt  of his  gifts;  a  wickedness  in  your  deviations  from  virtue  which  leaves no excuse;  and  a  deliberate  preference  to  your  passions  and  yourselves over  Jesus  Christ,  which  can  alone  proceed  from  a  heart where the  love  of  all  order  and  righteousness  is  extinguished? Who can tell  you,  if,  in  these  recollections  where  your  listless  mind  has a thousand  times  dwelt  upon  objects  or  events  dangerous  to  mo-