Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/82

 desty, your  indolence  in  combating  them  has  not  been  criminal; and if  the  efforts  which  you  afterward  made,  were  not  an  artifice of self-love,  in  order  to  disguise  their  criminality,  and  quiet  you  on the  indulgence  you  had  already  yielded  to  your  crimes? Who would dare  to  determine,  if,  in  these  secret  antipathies  and  animosities, which  you  give  yourselves  but  little  trouble  to  restrain,  (and that  always  more  for  the  sake  of  appearances  than  through  piety,) you have  never  exceeded  that  slippery  line  beyond  which  dwell hatred and  death  to  the  soul? If, in  that  excess  of  sensibility, which in  general  accompanies  all  your  afflictions,  infirmities,  losses, and disgraces,  those  which  you  call  feelings  attached  and  inevitable to nature,  are  not  irregularities  of  the  heart,  and  a  revolt  against the decrees  of  Providence? If, in  all  those  attentions  and  eagernesses with  which  we  see  you  occupied,  to  manage  either  the  interests of  your  worldly  affairs,  or  the  preservation  of  a  vain  beauty, there is  not  either  as  much  forwardness  as  may  amount  to  the crime of  illegal  ambition,  or  complaisance  for  yourself,  and  desire of pleasing,  as  may  sully  your  heart  with  the  guilt  of  sensuality? Great God! thou hast  well  discerned,  as  thy  servant  Job  formerly remarked, the  fatal  limits  which  separate  life  from  death,  and  light from darkness,  in  the  heart. These are  the  gulfs  and  abysses  over which mankind,  little  instructed  in  them,  must  tremble;  and  of which  Thou  reservest  the  manifestation  till  the  terrible  day  of  thy vengeance shall  arrive. — Second reason,  drawn  from  the  uncertainty of the  rules,  which  leaves  the  state  of  a  lukewarm  soul  very  suspicious, and  even  renders  it  incapable  of  knowing  itself.

But a  final  reason,  which  to  me  appears  still  more  decisive,  and more dreadful  to  the  lukewarm  soul,  is,  there  not  being  an  appearance from  which  we  can  presume  that  it  still  preserves  the  sanctifying grace;  on  the  contrary,  every  thing  induces  us  to  suppose  it forfeited;  that  is  to  say,  that,  of  all  the  symptoms  of  a  habitual  and living charity,  there  is  not  a  vestige  of  one  in  it.

For, my  brethren,  the  first  character  of  charity  is  to  fill  us  with that spirit  of  adoption  in  children,  which  leads  us  to  love  God  as our  heavenly  Father,  to  love  his  law,  and  the  justice  of  his  commandments, and  to  dread  the  forfeiture  of  his  love  more  than  all the evils  with  which  he  threatens  us.

Now, the  attention  alone  with  which  a  lukewarm  soul  examines whether an  offence  be  venial,  or  extends  farther;  of  disputing with God  every  article  he  may  refuse  him,  without  actual  guilt;  of studying  the  law,  only  for  the  purpose  of  knowing  to  what  degree it may  be  violated;  of  unceasingly  preferring  the  interests  of  his own cupidity  to  those  of  grace;  and  always  justifying  those  things which flatter  the  passions,  in  opposition  to  the  rules  which  check  or forbid  them;  this  attention,  I  say,  can  only  proceed  from  a  heart destitute of  faith  and  charity;  from  a  heart  in  which  the  Spirit  of God,  that  spirit  of  love  and  kindness,  apparently  no  longer  reigns. For no  children  but  the  prodigal  are  capable  of  quibbling  in  this manner with  their  father  and  protector;  of  exercising  to  the  utmost length of  severity  any  claims  they  may  have,  and  of  seizing  all  they may think  themselves  entitled  to.