Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/86

 holy desires,  your  heart  ought  then  to  be  seen  rekindled,  and  your fervour renewed:  you  ought  then  to  appear  all  fire  and  animation in the  practice  of  your  duty,  and  astonish  even  the  most  confident witnesses of  your  former  life  by  the  renovation  of  your  morals and zeal.

Alas! nothing, however,  reanimates  you*  Even  the  Holy  Sacrament leaves  you  all  your  coldness. The words  of  the  gospel, which you  listen  to,  fall  upon  your  heart  like  corn  upon  a  sterile land, where  it  immediately  dies. The sentiments  of  salvation  which grace operates  within  you,  are  never  followed  with  any  effect  in the  melioration  of  your  morals. You continually  drag  on  in  the same indolence  and  languor. You depart  from  the  holy  altar  equally cold, equally  insensible,  as  you  approached  it. We see  not  in  you those renewals  of  zeal,  piety,  and  fervour,  so  common  in  just  souls, and of  which  the  motives  are  to  be  found  in  their  deviations  from duty. What you  were  yesterday,  you  are  to-day;  the  same  infidelities, the  same  weaknesses,  you  advance  not  a  single  step  in the  road  to  salvation;  all  the  fire  of  heaven  could  scarcely  rekindle in the  bottom  of  your  heart  this  pretended  charity  upon  which you depend  so  much. Ah! my dear  hearer,  how  much  I  dread that it  is  extinct,  and  that  you  are  dead  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord! I wish  not  to  anticipate  the  secret  judgments  of  God  upon  the consciences; but  I  must  tell  you,  that  your  state  is  very  far  from being safe;  I  even  tell  you,  that,  if  we  are  to  judge  by  the  rules  of faith,  you  are  in  disgrace  with,  and  hated  of  the  Lord;  I  tell  you likewise, that  a  coldness  so  durable  and  constant  cannot  subsist with a  principle  of  heavenly  and  eternal  life,  which  always,  from time to  time  at  least,  betrays  external  movements  and  signs,  raises, animates itself,  and  takes  wing,  as  if  to  disengage  itself  from  the shackles which  weigh  it  down;  and  that  a  charity  so  mute,  so  indolent, and  so  constantly  insensible,  exists  no  more.

But the  great  danger  of  this  state,  my  brethren,  is,  that  a lukewarm  soul  is  so  without  scruple;  it  feels  that  it  might  carry its fervour  and  fidelity  to  a  much  greater  length,  but  it  looks  upon that zeal,  and  that  exactitude,  as  a  perfection  and  a  grace  reserved only for  certain  souls,  and  not  as  a  general  duty. In this  manner they fix  themselves  in  that  degree  of  coldness  into  which  they  are fallen. They have  not  made,  nor  scarcely  attempted,  the  smallest progress in  virtue,  since  the  first  ardours  of  conversion. It would appear, that  having  exhausted  all  their  fervour  against  the  criminal passions with  which  they  had  at  first  to  combat,  they  imagine  that nothing now  remains  but  to  enjoy  in  peace  the  fruits  of  their  victory. A thousand  damages  which  still  remain  from  their  first shipwreck, they  think  no  more  of  repairing. So far  from  endeavouring to  repress  a  thousand  weaknesses  and  corrupted  inclinations left  them  by  their  first  irregularities,  they  love  and  cherish them. The Holy  Sacrament  no  longer  reanimates  or  invigorates their faith;  it  only  amuses  it. Conversion is  no  longer  the  end they propose,  they  believe  it  already  done:  and,  alas! their confessions,  even  to   the  Almighty,   are   more   for  the   purpose   of