J
'
XT'
^SERMONS
FOR EVERY
SUNBAY ANB JFESHVAL, OF THE YEAR.
' e •.'-*.'
Chiefly taken from the
SERMONS OF M. MASSILLON,
X . It
BISHOP OF CLERMONT.
EV THE
REV. EDWARD PEACH.
Blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep it.—
Luke s.\. 28.
VOL. I.
Printed and published by
KEATING, BROWN, AND KEATING,
No. 38, Duke-Street, Grosvenor-Square.
P R E F A C E,
IT is a subject of general astonishment and regret, that the English. Catholic has never been presented with a translation of the sermons of Massillon. The applause, with which, they were received on the Continent, is the most unequi- vocal proof of their merit. His sermons for Lent were preached, with unparalleled, and undiminished- success, twenty years successively, before a most voluptuous court, and before one of the most polished, audiences in. the Christian world ; and the whole of his works have been, from the time of their pub" a £
IV PREFACE,
lication, the delight and admiration of the pious, and well-informed in every country, where the French language is understood. This is the greatest commendation which can be adduced in favour of works of . this kind. An inferior preacher may sometimes attract attention ;, and unless liis merit be eclipsed by the lustre of superior genius.,, may maintain his reputation for a time, and receive the flattering ap- plause of the public ; but the power of extorting the admiration, and ri- vetting the ^attention of the most voluptuous, the most irreligious, the most fickle votaries of pleasure, is a talent possessed by few : and to be held up as a model of spiritual eloquence even after death by men of all nations and religions, is an
«• • J L_
honour which is attended only by
PREFACE. V
extraordinary merit. This distin- guished pre-eminence was due to the talents of Massillon : and is acknowledged as candidly by the learned Protestant as by the Ca- tholic;
Never, perhaps, was there a Christian orator who possessed a more perfect knowledge of the heart of man. He insinuates himself into its inmost recesses : he explores, and lays open every avenue to pub- lic inspection. He delineates the affections, describes the first causes of the corruption, and displays the inward workings of the mind with such precision and clearness, that every individual who has departed from the ways of virtue beholds as exact a delineation of his own fea- tures,, as if the picture had been, designed for him alone.
9
Vf PREFACE.
In the arrangement of his dis-- courses, Massillon attends more to sentiments than words. He prepares his audience for hearing plain truths by a short exposition of his subject ; and, instead of demonstrating the existence of the law, or the neces- sity of implicitly submitting to its injunctions, of which he supposes that his auditory is already con- vinced, he immediately proceeds to combat the pretexts which the vio- lators of it al ledge in justification of their conduct.
The style of Massillon is animated, chaste, and flowing; and, although dignified and worthy of the Chris- tian pulpit, it is simple and adapted to the understanding of the unlearn- ed. The liveliness of his imagina- tion adorns it sufficiently to please the man of taste and education : but
PREFACE. VH
he rejects those decorations which contribute only to throw a veil over the subject, and to raise it above the comprehension of the multitude. He studies not to please the ear, but to convey instruction, and re- form the profligate. He admits only the grand, and sublime conceptions, which elevate the soul, and fix her attention immoveably on the im- portant truths which he announces.
Every sentiment is illustrated, and enforced by the authority of the scriptures. The similitudes, and the quotations, which he adduces from, the inspired writings, are never sought after; they always rise from the subject, and immediately strike, sometimes by the novelty, and al- ways by the justness of their appli- cation.
An orator of such distinguished
Vlll PREFACE.
talents, eloquence, and piety, could not fail of success. It is, therefore, unnecessary to add, that his audience was always absorpt in attention, that the just were comforted, the tepid undeceived, and the wicked confounded. When he delivered his sermon on the small number of the Elect before the voluptuous court of Versailles, the powers of his elo-» quence were manifested in the most extraordinary manner. So com- pletely was the imagination of this august assembly affected by his aw- ful description, that, at length, ter-. rified, and struck as it were by an electric shock, they started involun- tarily from their seats, and by their loud and continued murmurs of as- tonishment, and applause, obliged him for a time to desist : he however was not abashed, but concluded hi&
PREFACE. JX
discourse in the most pathetic and masterly manner. A more wonder- ful instance of the effects of oratory perhaps is not recorded in history. The fruits, which always accompa- nied his ministry, were great and lasting. After the conclusion of a discourse, the people did not form themselves into parties in order to canvas its merits and defects ; but they all retired in silence, with pen- sive looks, down-cast eyes, and sor- rowful countenances. They thought not of the preacher/: their attention was immoveably fixed on the great and sublime truths which he had delivered. These silent commenda- tions, if they may be so called, are, more expressive of the merits of an orator, than any public applause. The one only flatters the speaker, and assures him that he has pleased
A
X PREFACE. ;
his auditory ; the other imparts the sweetest consolation to his mind, and assures him that he has touched the heart. " I have heard many distin- guished orators," said Louis XIV. addressing himself to Massillon when he preached his first Advent before the court in the year 1702, " I have heard many distinguished orators in my chapel, who gave me very great satisfaction, but when I hear you I am dissatisfied with myself."
Respecting the doctrine of Mas- sillon, I fear that its severity will be criticised and reproved ; for he preaches the gospel in its genuine purity. Like another Jeremiah or Ezekiel, he announces the precepts of the Lord without fear, and with- out 'disguise. He knows that the laws of the gospel are unalterable, and that every letter must be ful-
PREFACE. XI
filled in the last age of Christianity, as well as in the first. He refuses to make any composition with the te^ pid and slothful degeneracy of the times ; because, in the first place, he had received no authority for that purpose ; and secondly, because the mercies of the Lord were extended to their utmost limits, when he con- sented to receive us into favour on the fulfilment of the conditions con- tained in the scriptures. — He is, therefore, severe : but he is severe because the gospel is severe ; be- cause his duty compelled him to be severe.
In the exercise, however, of his painful ministry, he is actuated by that charity, which seeks not only the instruction, but the salvation of men. He displays the most rigid precepts of the gospel in the most A2
Xll PREFACE.
engaging colours ; and he exposes the follies and pleasures of the world in a light that is calculated to create aversion and disgust. He exhibits the just man adorned with 'honour and glory, and happy in the sweet enjoyments of peace and innocence : and he represents the sinner covered with ignominy and shame, and tor- tured by the never-dying worm of anxiety and remorse. Under his pencil the character of the just man assumes a new and surprising lustre. He comes forth in all his native greatness, the champion of truth and justice, the brave and valiant soldier of Jesus ^Christ, patiently enduring the fatigues of the Christian warfare, encountering with joy every obstacle that opposes him, and finally subdu- ing all the enemies of his soul, the world, the flesh, and the devil ; the
PREPACK. Xlll
sinner, on the other hand, appears in the attitude and dress of a listless, ignominious coward, whose only de- light is sensual pleasure, whose cou- rage fails at the first call to arms, and who shrinks with terror when he is summoned to quit the bed o£ ease, aiid encounter the enemies of his salvation. The features of the true Christian appear dignified and composed, and the enjoyments which give pleasure to his manly soul, ra- tional, noble, and sublime : the fea- tures of the sinner, on the other hand, appear relaxed by luxury, and distorted by solicitude and fear, and the pleasures which excite the long-, ings of his noble soul, disgusting, momentary, unworthy of a rational being, and productive of misery both
in this world and the next. In
this manner the pious and eloquent A3
XIV PREFACE.
I
Massillon softens and decks with charms the severities of God's law. lie compels the sinner to acknow- ledge the folly and madness of a sinful life : he instils into his mind a hatred and disgust of the cruel ty- rant under whose despotism he has languished so long : he convinces him that sin is the fatal enemy of his peace, and he describes in such plain and energetic terms his blindness, ingratitude, and misery, that he is in a manner constrained to throw himself into the arms of piety, as the only means of asserting the dignity of his nature, and of acquiring peace and happiness, as well here,, as here- after.
The English Catholic has reason to regret that the works of this ce- lebrated ornament of the pulpit have been so Long concealed from him, A
PREFACE. XV
regular and well executed translation would be a valuable addition to the libraries of ,the learned, and would undoubtedly meet with encourage- ment from the enlightened and weal- thy part of the community. But the difficulties of the undertaking, the price which would be required for the purchase of so large a work, and the certainty, that the immoderate length of the sermons, and their be- ing chiefly confined to Lent and Ad- vent, would operate against the constant perusal of them by the great body of the people, are reasons which, I apprehend, will deter every man of abilities equal to the task from attempting the execution. In order, however, that some benefit may be derived from this treasure of sacred eloquence, the present work is respectfully offered to the public.
XVI PREFACE.
It cannot properly be called a transla- tion. It is a collection of pious and enlightened discourses, drawn up af- ter the manner to which the English
C7
reader is habituated, and appropri- ated to the Sundays and festivals of the year.
The substance is taken from Mas- sillon, with the exception sometimes of part, and sometimes of the whole of the introduction and conclusion ; instructions to the lower classes are sometimes substituted in the place of the numerous addresses to the court, which abound in the original ; and occasional hints at the times, and the situation of the country are in- serted. — Sometimes two discourses are formed out of one; at other times, one part only is taken ; and at others the whole is abridged. At all times, the division, the arrange-
PREFACE. XV11
ment, the subject (with the excep- tions mentioned above) are JVlas- sillon's ; and his method is followed as closely as the nature of the work would permit.
It is not presumed that a circum- scribed selection like this will be worthy of the reputation of Mas- sillon : it could not be expected : it was not hoped for. The passionate admirers of eloquence, who prefer the nice arrangement of words and sentences before objects of higher importance, may perhaps be dissa- tisfied with this imperfect display of the abilities of this celebrated preacher, and exclaim against the hand that has dared to violate the integrity of such wonderful speci- mens of oratory : but the sincere lovers of piety, it is presumed, will applaud the attempt, notwithstand-
XV111 PREFACE.
ing the imperfect manner in which it is executed ; and above all, a pleas- ing hope is entertained that it will meet with the approbation of HIM, whose honour and glory alone it was intended to promote.
Birmingham, July llth, 1807-
ERRATA.
Page Line 108 13, for duties, read deities.
aai 5, for confound, read confounded.
2 39 7> for ^e inmost, read and lays open the
inmost.
416 22, for condition, read constitution. 48 8 13, for same state, nod same sense.
INDEX TO VOL. I. ,
Page
First Sunday of Advent.
On the last day .y\\*-«f;*' •• •' • -f$Y- 1
Second Sunday of Advent. On the conditions and consolations of true repentance . . >•+.**•'.< 30
Third Sunday of Advent. On the delay of repentance . . 53
Fourth Sunday of Advent. On the dispositions required for a worthy communion ..... 77
Christmas Day. On the birth of Christ . . . . 103
Sunday within the Octave. Continuation of the same . . , 1 30
Circumcision. On the divinity of Christ . . . 154
Sunday before the Epiphany.
Continuation of the same . . . 179
Epiphany.
On the festival 203
First Sunday after Epiphany. On the honours paid to virtue by the world 226
XX INDEX.
Pag«
Second Sunday after Epiphany. On works of charity to our neighbour 248
Third Sunday after Epiphany. On a future state .--« . . . 273
Fourth Sunday after Epiphany.
On submission to the will of God . 295
Fifth Sunday after Epiphany.
On salvation 31?
Sixth Sunday after Epiphany. On the worship of God .... 339
Septuagesima. On the small number of the elect . 365
Sejcagesima. Continuation of the same . . .
Quinquagesima. On the fast of Lent . ... . .
First Sunday of Lent. On the abuses of fasting . . .
Second Sunday of Lent. On the motives for a change of life 455
Third Sunday of Lent. On inconstancy in the ways of virtue 477
Fourth Sunday of Lent. On confession 499
FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT.
ON THE LA,ST DAY.
And then shall they see the Son of Man coming in a cloud in great power and majesty. . . , ;., Luke xxi. 27.
L HITS, my beloved friends, shall the revolutions and king- doms of this world be brought to a con- clusion for ever. — Thus shall end all the earthly pursuits, which either amused us by their novelty, or seduced us by their charms. — Thus shall the Son of Man come. — Thus shall be ushered in the great day of his manifestation, the beginning of his reign, the com-
VOL. I. B
2 First Sunday
plete redemption of his mystical body. — Qn this day the consciences of all mankind shall be exposed to view : a day of calamity and despair to the sinner, but of peace, of joy, and con- solation to the just : on this day the eternal lot of the whole world shall be decided.
The constant recollection of these great truths animated the primitive Christian with patience in persecution, and inspired him with joy in the midst of sufferings and contempt. — It was this that supported the courage of the martyrs, invigorated the constancy of virgins, and rendered sweet and agree- able to the recluse, the dreary paths of solitude and retirement. — You, your- selves, perhaps, have sometimes felt sentiments of compunction and fear, on the recollection of what will come to pass on this day. But these senti- ments were probably of short continu- ance : thoughts of a more cheerful na-
of Advent. 3
ture soon effaced them from vour mind,
«/ *
and restored you to your former tran- quillity. In the first ages it would
have been deemed a kind of apostacy, not to have sighed after the day of the Lord. The thought of this great event was a subject of consolation to these primitive disciples: the apostles were obliged to moderate the eager desires which they expressed for its arrival. — But in these times, the church is obliged to call forth all the powers of her ministry to impress the thought of this awful day on the minds of the faithful : not indeed with the expecta- tion of exciting within them the same holy and devout impatience for its speedy accomplishment, — that, I ap- prehend, is no longer possible, — but with the hopes of awakening them to repentance by the fear, and consterna- tion, which all must feel, who are sen- sible of the alternative that awaits them in the winding up of these general ac- B2
4 First Sunday
counts, in the last trying scene of this awful and terrible catastrophe.
It is not my intention in this dis- course to display the external terrors of this great day ; I mean, the confusion of the elements, the irregular motions of the heavenly bodies, the universal destruction of nature, and men wither- ing away through fear : I shall confine myself to a subject more adapted to make a salutary impression on the minds of my audience; I shall confine myself solely to the consideration of what will naturally present itself to view on the opening of the book of -conscience, when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed. — Man, during his abode in this world, knows not his own heart : self-love spreads a veil over his imperfections, and conceals the knowledge of his true state, both from himself, and from others. But on this day he shall be seen in his true Jress, both by himself, and by all
ofAdvenf. 5
mankind. — The just man is disregard- ed, and despised in this world : he is subjected in a great measure to the will of the sinner ; his life is esteemed folly, and his end without honour. He, likewise, shall be seen in his true light on this day, and shall be honour- ed before the whole world with that honour to which his merits are entitled. — I purpose, therefore, to make a few reflections on the confusion which shall seize the wicked, when the secrets of their hearts shall be revealed ; and on the glory and honour which the just shall receive, when their secret virtues and good works shall be fully mani- fested.
1. It would be presumption to pretend to describe in appropriate terms the qualities of the Great Judge, who shall preside on that awful day.— He is a severe lawgiver, who is jealous of the sanctity of his laws, and who will judge you by them alone. All extenuations,, B3
6" First Sunday
all favourable interpretations, which custom or worldly wisdom have intro- duced, will then disappear ; and the advantages, which the sinner appeared to derive from them, will end in no- thing.— He is a judge, highly interest- ed in the glory of his Father against the sinner : and on this day he will display his zeal for the honour of the> Divinity, against those who have re- fused him the i-ist tribute of adoration
\)
and glory.-^-He is a Saviour, whose sacred wounds will severely rebuke you for your ingratitude, and whose blood will raise its voice, and loudly demand your condemnation. — He is the search- er of hearts, to whose eyes every thing is open, even the most secret thoughts. — LIn a word, he is a God of power and majesty, before whom the hea- vens will pass away, the elements be dissolved, all nature be in confusion, and the sinner, the sinner alone, be obliged to sustain the terrors of his
of Advent. 7
presence, and the rigour of his exa- mination.
The particulars of this dreadful ex- amination will, in the first place, be the same for all. Difference of times, of ages, of countries, of birth, and dis- position, will be totally disregarded ; and as the gospel, by which you will be judged, is the same for all ages and states, and proposes the same rules of conduct to the strong and to the weak, to the king and to the subject, to the hermit and to the worldling, to the primitive Christian, and to the Chris- tian of the present times, there will be no distinction in the mode of examina- tion. No attention will be paid to ex- cuses of rank, of birth, of the dangers of particular states, of the customs of the world, of weakness of constitu- tion : but the same rigorous account of chastity, of humility, of modesty, of constant vigilance, of forgiveness of injuries,, of self-denial, of mortifies B.4
8 First Sunday
tion, and of all other Christian virtues, will be exacted from the poor and from the rich, from the prince and from the people, from the learned and from the unlearned, from the primitive and from the modern Christian.
In the second place, this examina- tion will be universal; that is, it will include every circumstance of your lives. It will include the failings of your younger years, which probably have long since escaped your memory ; — the indiscretions of youth, almost every hour of which was perhaps stain- ed with crimes ; — the desires and cares of more advanced years ; — the peevish- ness and insensibility of old age.
With what surprise will the sinner per- ceive, when the different stages of his life are thus passed in review before his eyes, that through the whole course he was profane, dissolute, sensual, without piety, without repentance, without good works: that he busied
of Advent. 9>
himself in the different situations of life, txxno other purpose than to heap up to himself a more abundant trea- . sure of wrath ; and that he lived as if all were to have ended with his mortal existence..
In this life we never behold the true state ©f our interior :. our attention is engaged by the few serious sentiments with which we are occasionally animat- ed j and the judgment which we form of ourselves, is generally influenced by the last impressions which are made on our minds. — A few thoughts of sal- vation, with which God inspires us from time to time ; — a day, for in- stance, spent in the exercises of piety, causes us to forget many years spent in the pursuits of vice ; — and the declara- tion of our crimes at the tribunal of pe- nance, blots them out from our remem- brance, and restores us to as perfect a. state of tranquillity, as if we had ne- committed them. But before this*
10 First Sunday
terrible Judge all will appear at once : our whole lives will be exposed to view. Every motion of our hearts, from the first developement of reason, to the last moment of existence, will be mani- fested : the long catalogue of crimes, committed during the different stages of life, will be all collected together. : not an action, not a desire, not a thought, not a word will be omitted ; for if the hairs of our head are number- ed, with greater reason are our works. — Then shall you see the true state of your souls : then shall their secret ave- nues, their hidden affections, their de- praved appetites, be all laid open to your view : then shall their unlawful desires, their hatreds and animosities, their vitiated and impure intentions, their criminal projects, which were overlooked because they proved abor- tive, and all their other vices, be dis- played before you. " Oh ! says St. Bernard, crimes without number will
of Advent. 11
burst suddenly upon the sight, as from a secret hiding place, of which we never thought that we were guilty*'." We shall see what we never sa\\ before — we shall see our true selves : the dark abyss shall be enlightened, and the mystery of ini- quity shall be revealed. — After the scru- tiny into our transgressions is conclud- ed, the J udge will enter into a strict exa- mination of the good works which we ought to have performed, but have neg- lected. Here again we shall find that our whole lives have been chequered with sins of omission, of which we never thought of repenting : so many oppor- tunities, for instance, which, through complaisance, through fear of offending, through interest, or other motive**, we suffered to escape in silence, when our character required that we should have vindicated the honour of God, and the cause of virtue and truth :• — so many
* Quasi ex improvise, et quasi ex insidiis. — St. Ber.
12 First Sunday
occasions of promoting the spiritual welfare of our neighbour, by example, or by other means, which we have neg- lected : — so many favourable moments suffered to pass by through indolence or indifference, when we might have prevented crimes in others, by season- able advice, and by prudent remon- strances : — so many days, so many mo- ments wasted away in idleness and sloth> which might have been devoted, with- out any inconvenience, to the great affair of salvation. Ah ! my beloved, this was the time which we called the most innocent period of our lives: — a time, which, if it was not distinguished by any good works, we considered, at
least, as totally void of evil.
With what regret will the sinner look back on that length of days, which he sacrificed to trifles, and to a world that is no more, when he reflects that, had he consecrated them to the service of God, he might have merited heaven!
of Ad-cent. 13
With what confusion will he recollect the humiliations, the labours and crosses to which he submitted for the acquisi- tion of wealth, of a fortune which he could possess only for an instant, when he is convinced that one half, or even a quarter of the same trials, endured for the sake of Christ, would have placed him for ever at rest in the secure en- joyment of God's eternal kingdom.
After this^ we shall be called to ac- count for all the graces which we have abused ; — for the many calls and in- spirations which we have neglected ; — for the little profit which, we reaped from the powerful exhortations of his ministers ; — for the improper use which we made of the sufferings and afflicti- ons, with which he was pleased to visit us for our improvement in good ; — for the many gifts of nature, which ought to have been devoted to the works of piety, but which we made the instru- ments of vice. — Ah ! if the unprofita-
14 First Sunday
ble servant was cast into outer dark- ness, because he merely buried his ta- lent, what favour can they expect, who have received so many talents, and have employed them all against the Giver?
The account, which we shall here be called upon to give, will be terrible in the extreme. Christ will demand back again at our hands the price of his blood. — We are sometimes inclined to complain, that God has not done enough for us ; that we are naturally inclined to evil ; that we cannot soften down the harshness of our temper and disposition ; and that he has not given us sufficient grace to resist the occa- sions of sin to which we are exposed. But at the last day, we shall clearly perceive that our whole lives were one- continued abuse of his favours and graces ; we shall see that, preferably to so many nations, whom he has left in the darkness of infidelity, we were
of Advent. 15
favoured with the light of faith, fed- with his holy word, and with his sacra- ments, and supported by his inspira- tions and graces. — Yes : you will be astonished ta see how much God has done for you, and how little you have done for him. Your complaints will be turned into confusion, which will terminate in despair.
Hitherto, beloved Christians, the examination has extended to those sins only which the sinner has committed in his own person. But wh£n the Sove- reign Judge shall proceed to investi- gate the sins which we have occasioned in others, what an immense multitude will be again presented to our view ! We shall behold, assembled before our eyes, all the souls to whom we have been the occasion of sin ; all the souls who have, either by our words, by our counsels, by our example, by our so- licitations or impurities, been seduced from the paths of virtue, and con-
16 First Sunday
demned to hell; all the souls, whose faith we have shaken, whose piety we have weakened, whose libertinism we have encouraged. — Yes : our Lord Je- sus, to whom they belonged, and who had bought them with his precious, blood, will require them at our hands as his inheritance — as a conquest which we have wrested from him — as his chil- dren, whom we have murdered. — Ah!, if he marked Cain with the seal of repro- bation on account of the blood of his brother, with what seal will he mark the sinner, when he shall demand an ac- count of the souls whom he has mur- dered, and consigned to the secDiid and eternal death?
In this manner will our whole souls be exposed to view. — Happy, exclaims. St. Augustin,. should we be, if we could open our. eyes, and behold the state of our interior as clearly now as. we shall behold it then. — Truly, my beloved, could we divest, ourselves of.
of Advent. 17
those prejudices which cloud our sight, — could we resist the influence of those examples, which encourage us in our delusions, — could we be convinced of the falsity of those maxims and cus- toms, which tranquillize our consci- ences,— could we measure by the stand- ard of truth, the faculties and talents on which we pride ourselves, — could we renounce that self-love, which is the root of all our evils, — and could we, by these means, see ourselves in the same light in which we are seen of God, what a holy hatred should we conceive against ourselves ! — How stre- nuously should, we endeavour to hum- ble ourselves in his sight, during the days of our mortality, in hopes of avoiding the humiliations of that day, when the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open, and made manifest to the whole world.
2. Let us, however, turn to a more cheerful, subject, and describe the ex-
18 First Sunday
animation of that happy few, of which we all hope to form a part.
Two things, which, according to appearances, are inconsistent with the idea of infinite justice, may be said to be unavoidable in the indiscriminate society of the good and the bad. 1st, Concealed crimes escape the public censure which they deserve, and hid- den virtue is deprived of the applause to which it is entitled. 2dly, The sin- ner is oftentimes raised to honours and dignities, whilst the just man is oblig- ed to tread the lowly paths of subjec- tion and submission to his orders.
On this great day, these evils shall be fully rectified. The sinner shall be separated' from the just, as soon as the book of conscience is displayed : and the honours and dignities of the hea- venly Jerusalem shall be conferred on the deserving — the tpue and faithful servants of the Lord.
What a consolation will it be to the
of Advent* 19
just, to have the secrets of their hearts finally revealed ! Their perfections were concealed from men in this world. They were known to God alone. They were unknown even to themselves ; for humility had concealed from their view the beauty and innocence of their inte- rior, and had displayed before their eyes only the few blemishes and imper- fections to which human nature is un- avoidably exposed. — But now the veil shall be withdrawn, and their secret storehouse of merits shall be thrown open to the inspection of all.- — With what astonishment will the great assem- bly of the sons of men behold the tri- umps of these humble servants of God !" their hitherto concealed victories over the world, the flesh, and the devil ; — — rtheir heroic sacrifices — their fervent desires — their tender sighs — their trans- ports of love — their faith — their humi- lity— their magnanimity — their great- ness of soul — their perfect contempt
20 First Sunday
for all those false and fleeting vanities on which the hopes and desires of worldlings are so constantly fixed. Then shall it be seen, and acknowledg- ed, that nothing created has so just a title to praise and admiration, as the just man. Then shall it be seen, and acknowledged, that the interior ex- ploits of the true Christian are more sublime, and more noble, than all the great transactions of the world ; that they alone are worthy to be recorded in the book of life ; and that, in the esti- mation of God himself, they exhi- bit a spectacle more worthy of the ad- miration of angels and .men, than all the boasted victories and conquests which swell the pages of history ; the memory of which has been immorta- lized by pompous monuments, but which shall now be considered as the effects of a puerile and barbarous am- bition, and as the horrid fruits of pride and vain-glory. — Thus, the evil com-
of Ad-cent. 2 1
plained of in the first instance, will be entirely removed, and things will be re- stored to their proper order. The guilty will not triumph ; will not escape the general opprobrium, nor the pu- nishment which is due to their crimes : and an ample recompence will be given to the just man, in the clear and dis- tinct view of an astonished and admir- ing universe.
The second evil is the prosperity of the wicked, and the adversity of the good. — The just man, as if of no more account than the dust from which he sprang, and as if resembling the basest metals passing in the progress to re- finement through the fiery ordeal of tri- bulation, is, not unfrequently, the low- est and most contemptible of his spe- cies; whilst the sinner is exalted like the cedar of Lebanon, and surrounded by all that riches and honours can pro- cure. This, in appearance, is contrary to order and justice. But, although
22 First Sunday
by this means the just are purified, and the wicked hardened ; although this confused mixture of good and evil en- ters into the designs of Providence, and the just and unjust are hastened to their destination by ways which are in- scrutable to man : nevertheless, it is necessary that the Son of God should rectify all things ; that he should pub- licly manifest the distinction which ex- ists between good and evil, between the man who serves the Lord, and the man who denies him. This will be effected on the great day of the Lord : order will be perfectly established : the good will be separated from the wicked : these will be placed on the right hand, the others on the left.
Then shall the Son of Man, from his exalted throne in the clouds of hea- ven, cast his eyes over the immense multitude of peoples and nations as- sembled before him. Then shall he collect his chosen people from the four
of Advent. 23
corners of the earth : then shall he unite together the true children of Israel: then shall he introduce to notice, and celebrate the exploits of heroes of reli- gion, hitherto unknown to the world. The different epochs, or stated periods of time, he will distinguish, not by the victories of warriors, not by the rise or fall of empires, but by the particular triumphs of his grace, by the victories of the just man over his passions, by the establishment of his reign in the heart, by the invincible constancy of a persecuted disciple. He will entirely change the order of things : he will create a new heaven and a new earth : he will reduce this infinite variety of peoples, of nations, of titles, dignities, and states, to two different orders or descriptions of men — to the elect of God, and to the reprobate. The one shall be placed on his right hand, the other on the left.
What a terrible separation, my be-
24- First Sunday
loved brethren, will then take place ! Father will be separated from son, bro- ther from brother, friend from friend : one shall be taken, the other left. Death, which separates us for a time from the dearest objects of our affec- tions, has thus much, at least, of con- solation in it, that hereafter, perhaps, we may be united again. But here, the separation which divides us will be 'eternal : as far as the east is from the west, or heaven from hell, so far will the just be removed from the reprobate for ever.
All things being thus finally arrang- ed ; all mankind thus divided ; each one immoveable in the place allotted to him ; confusion, dismay, terror, and despair, shall be visible on the counte- nance of the one, and joy, serenity, and confidence, shall enliven the other: the eyes of the just shall be fixed on the Son of Man, their great and good deliverer ; the eyes of the wicked shall
of Ad-cent. 25
be cast on the earth, penetrating into that dreadful abyss, which in a short moment is to open, and swallow them up for eternity. — Then will the King of Glory, says the gospel, place him- self between the two assemblies, and turning to the just on the right, with looks of clemency and love — looks, which alone would repay them for all their past afflictions, he will say to them : Come, ye blessed of my Father, possess the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world, Matt. xxv. 34. Whilst you lived on earth, you were treated by worldly men as fools, as the outcast of society, and as useless members of the state : but they shall this day be convinced that the world subsisted only for you ; that the world was made only for you ; and that, as soon as your number was -complete, the final dissolution took place. Come, then, my beloved, quit this earth, where you were always VOL, i. C
26* First Sunday
strangers and pilgrims ; follow me in the paths of glory and happiness, as you followed me in those of humiliations and sufferings. Your afflictions were momentary, but the reward which awaits you shall be eternal. Come, ye blessed of my Father, possess the king- dom prepared for you from the founda- tion of the world.
Then turning to the wicked on the left, with eyes flashing with indigna- tion, and with a countenance replete with terrors, with a voice, says the pro- phet, that shall open the bowels of the abyss, (Num. xvi.) he will say, not as on the cross, Father, for give them, for they know not what they do, (Luke xxiii. 34.) but, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting jire, which was prepared for the devil and his angels, Matt. xxv. 41. You were once the chosen people of my Father, but you are now the ac- cursed : the enjoyments which you preferred before me were false, and mo-
of Advent. 27
mcntary, but your punishment shall be eternal. Depart from me you cursed into everlasting Jire. — Then the just, triumphantly ascending into the clouds with the Son of Man, will sing to their deliverer : " Thou art just, O Lord, and rich in mercy : thou hast crowned all thy blessings by the recompence which thou HOW bestowest on our me- rits."— Then the wicked will curse the Author of their existence, and the day on which they were born ; or rather, they will turn their rage against them- selves, as the sole authors of their dam- nation.— Then shall the abyss be open- ed, and the heavens shall stoop down ; — the reprobate shall go into eternal torments, — and the elect into life ever- lasting.— Afterwards, there will be no further communication between them. The sentence which divides them is ir- revocable : and they separate for ever.
After such a description, calculated to make an impression on the most har- C2
28 First Sunday
dened, I cannot better conclude than by addressing to you the words, which Moses addressed to the Israelites, after he had represented to them the dread- ful threats and the consoling promises •which were written in. the book of the law : Children of Israel, says he, / this day propose to your choice a blessing or a curse ; a blessing, if you fulfil the precepts of the Lord your God : a curse, if you forsake his ways, which I have pointed out to you, in order to follow
strange gods, Deut. "xi. 26. The
same do I address to you : it is in your power to choose which of the two you will embrace : you have heard the pro- mises, and the threats : the blessing, and the curse.— You must take part ei- ther with the devil and his angels, or with Christ and his elect : there is no alternative here. — I have shewn you the way which leads to heaven, and that which leads to hell. In which of the two will you walk? What would be
of Advent. 29
your eternal lot, if this instant you were summoned to appear before your Judge? Be on your guard : man dies as he lives. — Dread, therefore, lest death should surprise you in the state of sin. — Forsake the ways of the wicked, and live the life of the just, if you hope to be placed with them on the right, and to accompany them into the regions of a blissful immortality.
C3
30
SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT.
t)N THE CONDITIONS AND CONSOLA- TIONS OF TRUE REPENTANCE.
This is he, of whom it is written : Be- hold I send my angel before thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee ...... Matt. xi. 10.
DURING the sa- cred time of Advent, the Church in- vites us, in the most pressing terms, to prepare our souls for the approaching solemnity of the birth of Christ. This is the time, she exclaims, to arise from sleep, because our salvation is nearer than when we first believed : this is the time to do penance, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. — She assumes the office of the precursor : she goes before
Second Sunday, 8$c. 31
the face of the Lord, and by the voice of her ministers solicits us to open our hearts to receive him at this holy time, in order that his arms may be opened hereafter to receive us on the great day of final retribution.
But, beloved Christians, are we pre- pared to accept these gracious invita- tions ? Are we eager to rush forward to the banks of the Jordan, confessing our sins ? Ah ! we all listen to the heavenly monitor, but we obey him not. We are more inclined to flatter our- selves with the supposition that we are as perfect as the law of God requires us to be ; that we fulfil all the divine com- mandments with sufficient exactitude ; that we comply with our duties, and that we perform every good work which our state of life obliges us to per- form : we are more inclined, I say, to form this favourable opinion of our- selves, than to suppose that the words of the Baptist are addressed to us : Ye C4
32 Second Sunday
vipers, who hath taught you to flee from the wrath to come ? Bring forth worthy fruits of penance, Matt. iii. 7.
But, iny beloved, in vain do we en- deavour to deceive ourselves. — Truth itself, and the testimony of our own conscience declare that we are sinners, and consequently, that it is our boun- den and indispensable duty to reform, and to do penance. None have escap- ed the general prevarication ; and therefore none are exempt from the ge- neral precept : Do penance, for the kingdom of God is at hand, Matt. iii. 2.
In calling your attention to this subject, I do not mean to enter into any argument on the necessity of re- pentance— that is a settled point — that is undeniable. — My object is to lay before you the conditions which must accompany your repentance, in order that it may find acceptance with God ; and in conclusion, to add a few reflec- tions on the interior delights which
of Advent. 33
smoothen the rugged paths of self- denial and reformation.
1. Sin is an alienation of the affec- tions from God, and an attempt to ex- tract happiness- from the enjoyment of created things, in apposition to the will of the Creator. — The first duty, therefore, of repentance, is to renounce these vain objects of attachment, and to replace our affections on Him, who alone is worthy of them. — To this we are urged, not only by the voice of re- ligion, but by the united voice of rea- son and experience, — Reason informs us, that that object alone is worthy of our love, which can effectually contri- bute to our happiness ; which can sa- tisfy the cravings of our souls ; which can administer to OUP wants,, alleviate our afflictions, and procure us all good. Now, God alone being the author of these inestimable blessings, reason dic- tates the necessity of fixing our affec- tions solely on him. — Experience ha& C5
34- Second Sunday
already convinced us of this truth. During the time that our affections were fixed on earthly things, we always felt a deficiency in our breasts : AVC perceived that creatures were caprici-, ous, false, and inconstant : we saw that our hearts were deluded, and that hap- piness was not to be found in them.
With the authority, therefore, of re- ligion, reason, and experience on my side, I will boldly proclaim the neces- sity of fixing your affections, in the very commencement of your repent- ance, solely on the great Author of your existence, and on the Giver of every good gift : I will confidently assert that you will not persevere in your great work, unless you often open your hearts to the same seraphic flames of love which animated the saints, and endeavour to walk in their footsteps. They are your models, and after them must you form the plan of your new life.
of Advent. 35.
But methinks I hear you say, that if such perfect love be a necessary ingre- dient of repentance, it is in vain for you to attempt it; and that to require that you walk in the footsteps of the saints, is to require impossibilities. But, my beloved friends, why are you alarmed ? Who, and what were the saints ? Do you suppose that they were beings of a superior order ? or that they possessed qualities which were never implanted in your nature ? Far from it. They were men in pursuit of the same happi- ness as yourselves. They differed in nothing from you, except in fix- ing on the proper object for their pursuit. — And will you say that you are not susceptible of the same sublime impressions of holy love as they were ? You can adhere to creatures with the most ardent warmth of passion ; and are you incapable of adhering to the Great Author of All with the same de- gree of warmth and animation ? If this C6
36
be true, what are we to infer ? That you were made for vanity and folly : that your hearts are so mean and groveling, that they cannot rise to the love or fruition of any thing beyond the en- joyment of sensual pleasures ! — Ah ! for God's sake, let not any thing like this ever be said of you ! O, do not, do not you subscribe to this assertion ! For, if you are not formed for divine love, what is the object of your existence, and for whom were you made ? Will you allow, that you were created for no other purpose, than to be the victims of melancholy and delusion ? Will you allow, that the Great Author of your existence has drawn you out of nothing, merely to make you miserable ? and that your souls are capacitated to enjoy no other happiness than that which eludes your search ; than that which, in reality, has no existence ?
O man ! be no longer the dupe of your own fears, — The fervour of the
of Advent. 37
saints is not difficult of imitation. Open your eyes : look into your interior ; and you will discover that the disposi- tions, which you consider as obstacles to divine love, are the very dispositions which will promote its reign in your souls. — The more ardent you now are in the pursuit of worldly vanities, the more ardent will you be hereafter in the service of God, and in the pursuit of eternal pleasures. — The more your heart is susceptible of the love of crea- tures, the easier access will it open to the inspirations of divine grace. — The more haughty, proud, and ambitious you are by nature, the more indepen- dently will you serve the Lord, with- out fear, without human respect, with- out adulation. — The more pliant, vola- tile, and inconstant your disposition, the more easy will it be for you to with- draw your misplaced affections, and fix them on God. — In a word, your passions themselves may be made, in a
58 Second Sunday
great measure, the ground-work of your repentance. You may make that, which has hitherto been the cause of your sins, the instrument of your sal- vation ; and you Avill thus experience^ that the heart, which is susceptible of impressions from creatures, is more sus- ceptible of the impressions of divine grace.
2. The first condition, therefore, of true repentance, which is the love of God, is necessary, and within your power. The second, which is equally necessary, and which consists in works of self -denial and mortification, may be easily practised by the influence which the former will necessarily have over every part of your future conduct.
During the time that you were en- gaged in sin, you lived in the constant abuse of the gifts of God. Repara- tion, consequently, must be made to di- vine justice by the mortification of the senses, and by the voluntary renuncia-
of Advent* 3&
tion of those enjoyments, of which you have made an improper use.
Strictly speaking, the sinner may be said to have lost his right to the bles- sings of God : he has forfeited his inhe- ritance : he has incurred the maledic- tion of his Creator : he is an anathema in the midst of all the creatures, which God had intended for his use. — There are, therefore, ordinances for the un- faithful, which are not extended to mankind in general. They are except- ed from the common right : and they are to judge of the extent of their li- berties, not from general maxims, but from the personal exceptions which they have incurred.
On this principle, I will answer a question which is frequently brought forward by false penitents : " Is it un- lawful," they ask, " to indulge the fancies of dress, on purpose to engage the attention of others ? Is this or that public amusement, this or that inno
40 Second Sunday
cent enjoyment, forbidden by the gos- pel ?"' I will reply by another question : Have you never criminally abused these liberties ? Have you never made them, the occasions of sin ? — Ah ! by means of these very amusements, you have probably heaped up to yourselves trea- sures of wrath : and now, that you are deliberating on the means of effecting a change of life, you stand up in de- fence of vanity and folly : now that you are entering on a course of atone- ment to the divine justice for the num- berless offences of your past lives; when sackcloth and ashes ought to be your only ornament, you maintain the lawfulness of pomp and splendor, and dissipation, from which, whether they are allowable to others or not, you cer- tainly ought, ki every view of the case, on principles ef conscience and right reason, carefully to restrict yourselves. Beloved Christians, the sorrows of repentance hurry away the soul
of Advent. 41
with precipitation from every thing which has at any time been to her an occasion of sin. She considers not whether this, or that, be innocent in itself, but whether it has led, or is cal- culated to lead her into the deep abyss of sin. She entertains as great an ab- horrence for the promoters of her crimes, as for the crimes themselves. She avoids the sparks which enkindled her passions, with as much care as she resists the passions themselves. She trembles at the idea of her former ir- regularities. She abhors the sight of the places, persons, and things which gave occasion to them : she flies from them with haste, lest they should again make an impression on her heart. — Instead, therefore, of maintaining the lawfulness of again corresponding with the objects and occasions of your for- mer sins, you must hate, you must fly from them as from a pestilence. You must shun the rocks, on which you.
42 Second Sunday
have already suffered shipwreck. Ne- cessity compels you : for, be assured, if you continue to love the danger, you will infallibly perish in it.
Moreover, in the same manner as concupiscence embraces every oppor- tunity of indulging its unlawful pro- pensities, so, likewise, the true penitent endeavours on every occasion to satisfy the divine justice by private mortifica- tions. He sacrifices on the altar of penance every thing that flatters the senses, every thing that cherishes the passions, and every superfluity that tends only to strengthen the empire of self-love. Like a two-edged sword, he reaches unto the division of the soul and the spirit : he makes separations the most painful to flesh and blood ; he cuts even to the quick, and re- trenches every thing that favours the inclinations of corrupt nature : he is in- genious in his modes of penance : in every occurrence of life, he discovers.
of Advent. 43
means of contributing to the expiation of his former sins : even the few amuse- ments, which he allows himself, he changes into acts of virtue, by the pi- ous circumspection with which he in- dulges them.
This, beloved Christians, is the hea- venly secret of repentance. Now let
me exhort you to compare your sys- tem of a penitent life, with the model which I have displayed. — Do not de- ceive yourselves. — It is in vain that you have put off the defiled garments of grosser sensualities, unless you re- nounce likewise the love of pomp and vanity, — unless you have resolution to mortify your will, and repress the insa- tiable desires of self-love. — Ah ! sel- dom is there a true penitent ! Imperfect and superficial conversions are fre- quent : but there is too much reason to fear that the greater number of those, who appear reformed in the eyes of the world, will carry with them to the
44 Second Sunday
great tribunal of God hearts as much attached to vanity, an.d as corrupt in their affections, as they were in the midst of their irregularities.
In order to settle your reform of life on the most solid basis, you must ap- ply diligently to the practice of the op- posite virtues. — If you have been ad- dicted to gaming, vanity, or love of dress, your dissipated state of mind must be reformed by prayer, retire- ment, and works of mercy. — If you have strengthened the empire of flesh and blood, by abandoning yourselves to the more disgraceful passions, the flames of impurity and intemperance must be extinguished by degrees by fasts, austerities, watchings, and the heavy yoke of self-denial and pe- nance.— This is not a matter of coun- sel ; it is of precept. Your happiness depends upon it, your perseverance depends upon it : for your old attach- ments will incessantly shoot forth, and
of Advent. 45
spring up again, if they be not entirely eradicated from your breasts. Your passions will become more violent, and will redouble their attacks, unless they are completely subdued* You will be in momentary danger of another ship- wreck. You will enjoy neither peace nor consolation in your new life. Your weakness and pusillanimity will increase. The pleasures which you 3iave renounced, will appear before your eyes in the most engaging colours, and the charms of piety and holiness will appear faded, and uninviting. — Thus will you be a constant tempta- tion to yourselves ; and, as it is not easy to maintain a contest against your- selves for any length of time, you will •soon turn away with disgust from a life which costs you so dear. — It is true, therefore, my dear friends, and let me entreat you to reflect seriously on what I am about to say : it is true, that in proportion as you increase and multi-
46 Second Sunday
ply your sacrifices on the first com- mencement of a reform of life, you di- minish the difficulties ; and that, in pro- portion as you favouryour former disor- derly inclinations, instead of mitigating the rigours of repentance, you make them more disgusting and intolerable.
A change of life, therefore, consists not merely in a reformation of your past disorders, but in a reformation accom- panied with suitable acts of atonement to the divine justice. This is indis- pensable ; and, notwithstanding the contrary opinion which you have pro- bably formed on this head, it is not at- tended with much difficulty. The graces and consolations of heaven sweeten the bitter pains of mortification and penance, and encourage the soul to proceed with alacrity and rapidity in the important task, until she shall have brought it to a happy termination. — I will conclude with a few words on this subject.
of Advent. 47
3. Come to me, says our Saviour, all you who are wearied in the ways of iniquity : come, and taste the sweets of my yoke, and you shall find that peace and rest, which you have sought in vain under the yoke of your pas- sions : you shall find rest for your souls.
Yes, beloved Christians ; instead of that inconstancy, and ingratitude, which you have experienced from crea- tures ; instead of that emptiness, and puerility, which accompanied your worldly pleasures; instead of that anxiety, solicitude, and remorse, which were the attendants of dissipation, your souls will overflow with the most en- rapturing delights of innocence and peace. With what interior joy will you exclaim : " Hitherto I have lived only for vanity. The days, the years, the afflictions that are past, are now as nothing : they are lost : they are obliterated even from the memory of
48 Second Sunday
that world, for which alone I have liv- ed. My civilities, my condescensions, my services, have been repaid only with ingratitude. — But now, every thing that I shall either do or suffer for Jesus, will be placed to account : every act of self-denial, every trivial sacrifice, every sigh, every tear will be registered in indelible characters in the book of life ; they will be all recorded in the memory of the great Master whom I serve ; they will be all, not- withstanding the deficiencies arising from the weakness of human nature, they will be all purified by the blood of my Redeemer : my merits, indeed, will be nothing, independently of his grace ; but he will crown his own gifts with an infinite reward. — I live now for eternity alone : I no longer labour in vain : my life is no more a dream."
Could you, my beloved brethren,
taste the ineffable consolations which this soliloquy imparts to the penitent
of Advent. 49
saint, you would be enraptured ; you would exclaim in concert with all the holy servants of God: "Piety is a treasure indeed ! The man who is tru- ly converted to the Lord, receives an hundred-fold even in this life, for the sacrifices which he immolates on the altar of repentance.'*
I will not, however, pretend to assert, that the true penitent is entirely free from uneasiness and solicitude : expe- rience proves the contrary ; and there- fore I acknowledge, that the recollec- tion of his past disloyalties will, some- times, throw a gloom over his mind. But, notwithstanding his incertitude whether he be worthy of love, or ha- tred, the secret peace which reigns within, gives testimony that Jesus is there ; and the ineffable interior de- lights which he enjoys, convince him that God has received him again into favour. - — I acknowledge, likewise, that the lively ideas of the infinite jus-
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50 Second Sunday
tice of God, and of the multitude of his sins, will sometimes excite appre- hension and alarm. But these are tri- als, sent only for the exercise of his humility, and are, consequently, of short duration : he quickly hears the voice of Jesus in his soul : "Oh ' thou of little faith, why dost thou doubt ? Have I not given thee sufficient proofs of my protection and benevolence ? Re- cal to mind all that I have done, in order to snatch thee from the abyss of perdition. I seek not with such ear- nestness the sheep that is not dear to me. I never should carry it on my shoulders with such patience, if I in- tended that it should perish before my eyes. Mistrust not my goodness. Thy only motives for alarm, are thy own tepidity and inconstancy."
This, beloved Christians, is but a faint description of the pleasures which enliven the paths of virtue. — Why then will you hesitate ? — Are you re-
of Advent. 51
strained by the fear of difficulties ? — Ungenerous souls ! You have endured the anguish and remorse of sin without complaint for many years ; and is it possible that you should dread the holy sorrows of repentance ? — You have borne the yoke of the world — a yoke which admitted neither of ease, nor of comfort, nor of real pleasure ; and will you dare to call the yoke of the Lord insupportable ? Be no longer the dupes of imaginary fears. — The anxie- ties, and the pains to which you hatfe been accustomed, have prepared you for the sufferings of penance. This apprenticeship will make every thing easy, particularly as your future la- bours will be accompanied and sweet- ened by the graces and consolations of heaven.
Good God ! having walked so long
in the rugged paths of sin, and under
the hard tyranny of the world and my
passions, is it possible that I should be
D2
52 Second Sunday, fyc.
unable to walk with thee, under the wings of thy mercy, and supported by thy powerful arm ? Art thou then a hard master ? — No : the worid knows thee not, and therefore it supposes that thou impartest no consolations to thy faithful servants. But we, O Lord, we know thee. We know that thou art the best of Masters, the most tender of Fathers, the most faithful of Friends, the most bountiful of Benefactors. We know that thou wilt pour thy choicest gifts on thy servants during their mor- tal pilgrimage, and give them a fore- taste of that eternal happiness which thou hast prepared for them in heaven.
THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT.
ON DELAY OF REPENTANCE.
/ am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, make strait the way of the Lord. John i. 23.
J. HE paternal solici- tude of our Jesus, ever attentive to the interests of his beloved creatures, and desirous of ensuring to himself the free, and sole possession of our hearts, continues to invite us, by the mouth of the Baptist, during this time of Ad- vent, to make strait his ways, and to re- move the impediments which have hi- therto obstructed the channel of, his graces, and prevented our complete,
D3
54 Third Sunday
and permanent union with him. — These impediments are the crimes which we commit, — the passions by which our unthinking hearts are led astray, — and the occasions of sin, which have so often proved fatal to our innocence. — The means by which alone these im- pediments can be removed, are a change of heart, and a complete re- form of life, accompanied with a true and sincere repentance.
To this gracious invitation he adds threats. He commands his ministers to display before you the miseries which await impenitence, and the dangers of delay : and to declare openly that, un- less you do penance, you shall inevitably perish.
This is not all : he speaks to you in the interior of your souls ; " is it not time," he says, " to arise from that abyss of wickedness, in which you have been so long immersed. Why will you not turn your thoughts to your eternal
of Advent. 3,5
welfare, and consecrate the short re- maining period of your lives to my service, after having devoted so many years to vanity and folly ?"
To these importunities of your Crea- tor, what reply do you make ? Do you pour forth your soul in acts of thanks- giving for this his paternal, his gratuit- ous solicitude ? Are you resolved to prostrate yourselves at his feet, and declare aloud, that you are ready to embrace the means which he has pro- vided for your deliverance ? Alas ! this, I fear, is far from being the state of your mind. You are solicitous only to elude his importunities, and to re- fuse your consent : you say either that you have not sufficient grace to under- take so great a work ; or that you are too much engaged in your pursuits to think of a reform of life at the present time. — These, in general, are your pre- texts.--^ these, therefore, I will call your attention ; and I will prove, in the D4
56 Third Sunday
i •
plainest terms, that they are ground- less, that they are injurious to God, and that they are prejudicial in the highest degree to your eternal welfare.
i. It is not uncommon for those sin- ners, who are determined not to for- sake their evils ways, to attempt to justify themselves by alleclging the in- competency of man to effect the great work of an entire change of life, by his own powers alone. "A particular grace from God," they say, " is neces- sary, and indispensably necessary for the success of such an arduous under- taking : happy they who have been fa- voured with this grace ! As for them, they have long waited with anxious expectations of receiving it : but, as yet, it has not pleased God to dispense to them so inestimable a blessing."
Plausible as this pretext may appear, a slight examination will prove that it is unjust on the part of the sinner, injuri- ous to God, and unwarrantable in itself.
of Advent. 5?
If in this assembly, there is any in- dividual whose impenitence is owing to this cause, let me beg the favour of his attention for a few moments. — Chris- tian brother, I allow in the first in- stance that a true and sincere reforma- tion of life cannot be effected without the grace of God, and if it be true that you have never been blessed with that grace, your impenitence has some ex- cuse. But this is what you cannot assert with justice. If you take a review of your past life, you will be convinced that God favoured you in every stage of it with the most singular graces. He blest you with a happy disposition, and a good heart He favoured you. with the light of faith, provided yoa with necessary instructors, and nou- rished you with his sacraments. When you turned your back upon him, and walked in the ways of iniquity, he fol- lowed after you with the solicitude of a parent, and importuned you, by his
58 Third Sunday
graces and inspirations, to return ta his embraces : he did not suffer your conscience to be hardened in guilt : he convinced you of the emptiness, and vanity of sinful pleasures, and tortured you witb anxiety and remorse : he dis- played before your eyes the charms of innocence, and by the voice ,of his ministers, urged you in the most press- ing terms to give peace to your soul by throwing yourself into its arms : at the time even that I am speaking, he works within you, and inspires me with these sentiments in order to reclaim you. — Ah! my dear friend, your whole life has been one continued chain of graces ; and you will discover hereafter, that it has been your greatest crime to have received so much, and to have profited so little.
If, indeed, by grace, you mean that miraculous grace, which in a moment converted Paul the persecutor into an apostle, you probably have never yet
of Advent. 59
received it ; and more probably never will i it would be presumption to ex- pect it. — :No i you will never receive a grace that will exempt you from diffi- culties, that will break your chains, and subdue your passions without your concurrence. Your conversion will necessarily cost you. dear : you will have many violent struggles with cor- rupt nature before your evil inclina- tions are repressed, before you can tear yourselves from the dear, but criminal objects of your affections, and make the sacrifice of every thing that holds you in captivity. The grace, which the saints received, and which made them saints, did not exempt them from these conflicts ; and if you wait for a greater grace, before you enter upon the work of self-reformation, you might as well give up your soul for lost, and consign yourself to the hor- rors of despair. There is another subject, likewise,
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for your consideration : by alledging that you never yet have been favoured with the grace, on which alone a change of life depends, you are guilty of ingratitude against God; and tacitly accuse him of being in some degree the author of your impenitence- You might as well say in plain terms : " God alone can change my heart, and, therefore, it is to no purpose that I attempt it without his special con- currence : I must wait his good time : I have only to spend my days agreeably in pleasure and sin; and when he thinks proper, he will divest me of the old man, and clothe me with the new, without any labour on my part, without my thinking of it, without any previous disposition, but a life of wickedness, and opposi- tion to his graces : salvation — that great, that only business for which I came into the world, is no longer en- trusted to me : the Lord has reserved the means, and taken it entirely on
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himself. " — But, my friend, let me ask, in what new gospel is this promise contained, for it is not in the gospel of Jesus Christ? Ah! with reason does the prophet exclaim : the sinner can speak only foolish things in justifica- tion of himself, and he will endeavour to extenuate his crimes in opposition even to God himself, Isa. xxxii. 6.
Lastly, this pretext is irrational in itself. — For what consequence can you deduce, supposing it were true that God had never visited you with his grace? That you would not be ac- countable for the sins you commit, were you to die impenitent ? You dare not say it. — That you are allowed to extend the catalogue of your crimes, till God shall please to touch your heart, and impart to you the long ex- pected grace ? That the delay of your repentance will not be criminal in the sight of God, because it depends not on your will? — If this excuse, my dear
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friend, were admissible, every sinner^ that defers his repentance^ and dies in his sins, would be justified ; the gates of hell would be shut, and the broad road, in which the multitude are said to walk, would be annihilated. — O man! exclaims the apostle, in opposi- tion to the folly, and impiety of this pretext, O, man ! is it thus that you. despise the riches of the bounty of your God ? Are you not aware that his patience in enduring your crimes, ought to be the most cogent motive to hasten your repentance, and not to be alledged as the motive for the con- tinuance of your disorders ?
If God had actually refused you the assistance of his grace, the following is the only rational consequence to be deduced ; namely,, that your eternal welfare is exposed to the most immi- nent danger, that it is your duty to pray incessantly for the inestimable blessing, of which you are deprived : and
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to endeavour, by every means in your power, to appease the anger of God, and, as it were, to take heaven by storm: that it is your duty, in the mean time, to avoid the occasions where your in- nocence has been so often endangered, and to renounce the worldly affections which have hitherto shut your heart against the inspirations of the Holy Ghost. — This, my dear friend, would be giving glory to God in a truly Christian manner: this would be sin- cerely confessing his supreme dominion over the heart, and acknowledging that he is the Giver of every good gift.. — But to be continually repeating, that God will visit you, when in his mercy he shall think fit; and in the mean time, making no efforts to relinquish the error of your ways, is the height of impiety : you might as well say, "I am not inclined at the present moment to enter upon the service of God : I can, do without him yet a little longer : I
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live happy, and content : when he forces me to attend to his calls, and when I can no longer avoid his so- licitations, then I will yield, then I will say, Lord, here I am : but in the mean time I will enjoy my good fortune, and indulge the liberty he has given me of deferring my conversion to a future period." — What a preparation is this, my beloved, for receiving that inestimable grace which works a change of heart ! Nevertheless, this it is that gives confidence to the sinner, and hardens him in his guilt.
But beware, beloved Christians : the longer you defer your change of life, the less grace you will receive : the more your crimes are multiplied, the farther will God remove himself from you. The moments of mercy flow ra- pidly on: the dreadful time of indigna- tion approaches: and, if it be true that you have not sufficient grace to effect your change to-day, in a short time
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you will probably not have sufficient grace to be sensible that you stand in need of repentance.
2. There is another, and perhaps a more numerous class of sinners, who defer their conversion, not on account of any deficiency of grace, but be- cause they are too much attached to the world ; and are deluded by the supposition, that, if they reform their conduct at a later period of life, their salvation will be as secure as if they embraced the austerities of repentance at the present moment.
They say, that they cannot devote their younger years to the severe duties of religion; that their blood is too warm to submit to such multiplied re- straints : but that the time will come, when their passions will be cooled, and the pleasures of the world less attrac- tive ; and that then they will apply to their eternal concerns in good earnest.
In reply to this pretext, it is natural
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to ask ; whether you have an absolute assurance that you will reach that time of life ; that death will not surprise you, during the course of those years, which you so deliberately devote to your passions; and that the Lord, whom you expect only at the third watch, will not come at the first, or second watch, at a time when you least expect him ? Ah ! the thousands whom you see drop into the grave in the very prime of life, proclaim the uncertainty of the term of your existence : perhaps, the sentence is even already pronounced against you : Thou fool ! this night, perhaps, thy soul will be required of thee : and, if so, what will thy pro- jects of a future conversion avail thee? Supposing, however, that you are permitted to reach thut advanced stage of life : are you certain that you will be then more disposed to enter upon a new course of life than you are to-day? — Did age change the heart of
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Solomon — of Saul — of Jezabel — of He* rodias ? It was then that their pas- sions mounted to the highest pitch, and that their crimes were multiplied beyond number. — The same, probably, will be your lot : your old age will either be contaminated with the follies of your youth, or, if satiety should create a disgust for the grosser pas- sions, it will be attended with a hard- ness of heart, and a seared conscience, which will infallibly lead to final im- penitence.
However, for the sake of argument, we will suppose that you have received an assurance that you will both attain to old age, and be then sincerely reformed. Nevertheless, can you, my beloved brethren, can you seri- ously, and deliberately resolve on treat- ing your God in this unworthy, this contemptuous manner ? He is. the Lord of all ages, and times ; he requires that both the bud, the bloom, and thedecay of
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life be consecrated to him : he is a jea- lous God: he will not give his glory to another, nor endure a partner in your affections. And can you resolve before hand to devote the most precious part of your life to the devil, and his works, and reserve only the shattered remains for your God ? Can you have the harden- ed boldness to say : " Lord, \vhen I am no longer capable of enjoying the world, 1 will turn to thee. I shall be always sure of finding thee. But the world, after a certain time, will no longer be an object of amusement. I must en- joy it before it is gone. At a certain age it will reject me; and then, for want of other pleasures, I will turn to- thee : thou alone shalt possess my soul.'* — Worthless creature ! with rea- son may I address to you the words, which the prophet Isaiah addressed to his idolatrous neighbours : You take, ' says he, a cedar of Lebanon, you choose the best parts for your plea-
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sures, and luxuries, and not kn6wing how to employ the remainder, you carve an image of your idol, and bow down before it, and worship it, Isa. xliv. 15. You, in the same manner, se- lect the most precious parts of your life, and devote them to your passions : and not knowing how to employ the wretched remnant, which has become unfit for the world, you make an idol of it, you consecrate it to religion, and vainly flatter yourselves that your offering will be acceptable to God !
Ah ! be not deceived, my beloved friends. — You certainly will reap in an advanced age the fruits of that only which you sowed in your youth. If you sow in corruption, says the apostle, you shall reap in corruption, Gal. vi. 8. As you live, so shall you die.
You perhaps may say, that happy is the man who has served the Lord from his youth ; and that happy
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should you have been, if you had en- joyed the same blessing : but, un- fortunately, you have followed the beaten tract of the world, and are now engaged in pursuits, from which you cannot desist until a more favourable opportunity arrives.
But, my beloved, are you certain that this favourable opportunity will ever arrive ? Are you certain that you will not be surprised by death ? Would you be the first that was surprised in his sins ? Ah ! this is the common lot of all who walk in the broad ways of the world. Could you but attend the mi- nister of the Lord when he is sum- moned to the bed of sickness : could you hear the useless regrets, the vain protestations of the measures they would have taken, had they foreseen their approaching dissolution, you would be convinced that, seldom is there a man that has completely re- nounced his passions, and prepared
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himself by repentance for his last end. —If you defer you conveision, the same melancholy task shall we have one day to perform for you. You will summon us in your turn : and, instead of con- gratulating with you on your timely repentance, we shall be necessitated to listen to your useless regrets, and en- deavour, perhaps in vain, to inspire you with sentiments of sincere sorrow; and engage you to look forward with hope to the result of that dreadful scrutiny, for which you intended to have been prepared, and are not.
Perhaps, however, you may say, that you are disposed, at the present time, to reform your lives ; that you are fully convinced of the emptiness, and folly of worldly pleasures, and would gladly renounce them in order to labour in earnest for your salvation ; but that you are diffident ; that you are afraid lest the difficulties, necessarily attend- ing such an important, and arduous
f l -.
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undertaking, should discourage you ; and that, if you make the attempt, and fail, you would be exposed to the ridicule, and scorn of all your acquain- tance.
But, my dear friends, whence origi- nates this fear? You defer your repent- ance on the supposition, that God will touch your heart at a future period: and, if you reform to-day, you say that you dare not rely on his assist- ance ! You confide in his mercies at the time you offend him ; and you cannot confide in them when you at- tempt to serve him ! O man ! where is that reason, that soundness of judg- ment on which you pride yourselves ? Are you then only senseless, and con- tradictory, when your salvation is at stake ?
Would it not be more reasonable to say : " I will begin at least : I will try what I can do with the help, and assist- ance of God : the experiment is cer-
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tainty worth making." — The man who is surprised by the sudden torrent, and in danger of perishing, endeavours to reach the land, and does not give himself up for lost, until his strength is exhausted. He does not say : " Per- haps I shall not succeed ; my strength may possibly fail me; and therefore I will not try to save myself." No : he exerts his whole strength ; he stretches every nerve ; he yields not, till he is fairly overpowered by the force of the torrent that opposes him. — You, my friends, are in clanger of perishing : the waters gain upon you : the torrent is carrying you away : and will you hesi- tate whether it be prudent to en- deavour to save yourselves ? Will you sacrifice to deliberation the few mo- ments which alone remain for you to effect your escape, and avoid the death, which has overtaken so many before your eyes ?
E
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Supposing, however, that you were unable to endure the seventies of re- pentance, and that you were obliged to desist : still you would have the sa- tisfaction to reflect, that you had spent some time in innocence ; that you had made some efforts to appease an angry God ; that you had avoided some sins ; and that the treasure of divine wrath, which is laid up against you, is not quite so great as it other- wise would have been. You would have acquired a right to represent your weakness to your Lord : " Lord ! thou seestmy weakness," you would have a right to say, " thou art witness to the desires of my heart. Why am I not more resolute in thy service, more hardened against the allurements of the world, and more watchful over myself ! Put a final conclusion, O Lord, to my inconstancy : deprive the world of the dominion, which it still
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holds over my heart : take possession of thy ancient rights, and draw me not to thee by halves, lest I forsake thee again. — I have so often sworn to thee eternal love; I have so often prostrated myself at thy feet ; and, with my eyes bathed in tears, confessed my iniquities, and have again returned to my former ways, that I can no lon- ger confide in my own strength. With a heart so fickle, and inconstant, what can I expect? Be moved, O Lord, at the sight of my danger and distress : my weakness discourages, and alarms me : I know that inconstancy in thy ways is a presage of perdition. But, my God ! whilst I am yet susceptible of the impressions of thy grace, I will endeavour to return to thee : and, if I must lose my soul, I will rather perish in the attempt to be virtuous, than seek an imaginary, a terrible tran- quillity in a fixed; and declared revolt E2
76 Third Sunday 8$c.
against thee, and thus renounce the hope of those eternal goods, which thou hast prepared for thy faithful servants."
77 FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT.
ON THE DISPOSITIONS REQUIRED FOR A WORTHY COMMUNION.
Prepare the way of the Lord, make strait his paths Luke iii. 4.
THESE words the Church incessantly repeats during the time of Advent, in order to infuse into our souls a perfect knowledge of the dispositions which are required for worthily celebrating the approaching solemnity of Christmas. Prepare, she says, the ways of the Lord, make his paths strait. .Let the rallies be jilled up, and the mountains and hills be le- velled: let the crooked roads be made
E3
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strait, and the rough smooth. Or, in- other words, prepare yourselves, my dear children, to reap the abundant fruits of this mystery by humiliation of heart, by meekness and chanty, by uprightness and uniformity of life, by renouncing your own vain wisdom and exalted ideas, and by the spirit of self- denial and penance.
In the name of the Church, > there- fore, I address the same words to those of my present auditory, who piously intend at this time to purify their souls by the sacrament of penance, and to prepare a place for the spiritual birth of Jesus in their hearts by a worthy com- munion.— Prepare the way of the Lord :. the sacrament, which you propose to receive, is the most solemn rite of our religion, and the source of the greatest graces. — Take every precau- tion, adopt every means which can con- tribute to prepare your souls for a wor- thy communication with the Deity :.
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\ for there is this dreadful alternative ;
if your hearts be not worthily disposed, this heavenly bread, instead of nourish- ing your souls, and fitting you for eternal life, will draw down on your heads the heaviest judgments, even eternal damnation. — Perhaps you may say: "If there be this alternative, it would be more adviseable to abstain from this divine food." By no means : in this bread alone will you find the true nourishment of your souls : it is the strength of the strong, and the support of the weak ; the consolation of the afflicted, and the pledge of eter- nal happiness. To communicate sel- dom, is the surest way to communicate unworthily. — I repeat therefore again : Prepare ye the way of the Lord.
The importance of the subject is worthy your most serious attention. On the one side, you are to avoid the most grievous of all crimes — the pro- fanation of the body and blood of the E4
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Son of God : and on the other, you are to qualify yourselves in a proper man- ner for reaping the immense fruits of a worthy communion. — The dispositions •which are indispensably requisite foF this important work, I will reduce to three, namely, a lively faith, a pure conscience, and an ardent love : these I will discuss as briefly as the subject will permit.,
1. The first disposition required, is a lively faith. I speak not of that faith •which distinguishes us from unbeliev- ers, and which the mercy of God in- fused into our souls in our very infancy : but 1 speak of that faith, which pierces tke clouds where the Most High re- sides : — I speak of that faith, which beholds him, not as through a perspec- tive glass, but as if face to face : — I speak of that faith, which sees the an- gels covering their faces with their wings, and the pillars of heaven tremb- ling in the presence of this great King-;
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—of that faith, which would not be in- creased by the testimony of the senses, and which is happy, not because it has not seen and has believed, but because here its belief has made him, as it were, present to the sight : — I speak of that humble faith, which approaches to the altar, like Moses to the burning bush, like the Israelites to Mount Sinai' ; — of that faith, which feels the presence of the Deity, and which cries out with St. Peter: Depart jrom me, O Lord, for I am a mortal man, and a sinner, Luke v. 8. — I speak of that faith, which annihilates the soul in the pre- sence of the God of Majesty, and fills her with dread, lest she should present herself at his table without due dispo- sitions, without the wedding garment.
This is the faith, which the apostle requires in all who approach the holy table. — But, my God ! can such a faith be found upon earth ! If thou wert again to appear amongst us, thou
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wouldst find thy chosen people, the Christians, as sensual, and as carnal, as thy once chosen people the Jews : thou wouldst be a stranger amongst us. — Ah ! my beloved, when he shall be seen coming in the clouds of heaven, men shall wither away through fear ; the sinner shall hide his face, and call out to the mountains to fall upon him, and cover him : — and is not the same God seated on our altars.? — Do not the celestial spirits descend from heaven, and minister to the priest when he offers up the tremendous mysteries ? Yes : from this mysterious tribunal, the great God of heaven examines the heart of every individual that bends his knee before him : he separates the elect from the reprobate ; he passes the sentence of d£ath and of life ; he holds the thun- ders of his vengeance in one hand, and crowns of glory in the other.
Formerly, no one could see God and live. The unhappy Bethshamites were
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exterminated merely for looking into the ark : — Heliodorus was chastised vi- sibly by angels from heaven, because he presumed to enter the sanctuary : — • the Israelites were not permitted to ap- proach the mount, when God gave the
commandments, But now, because
the fire of his wrath does not burst -forth from our altars, and destroy the wretch who presumes unworthily to approach him, we receive him into our breasts without fear, without respect ! Half an hour employed in reciting a set form of prayers, is our only prepara- tion : — we receive him — we recite a few more prayers, in the same tepid manner as the first — and depart, perhaps never more to thank him for this unutterable favour. — Ah ! if we beheld the body of the Lord in its glorified state present before us ; if the testimony of faith made the same impression on our mind as the testimony of the senses, with what E6
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sentiments should we present ourselves at the sacred table * How constantly, how profoundly would our thoughts be employed even for a month before- hand ! and when the time itself drew near, with what ardour should we devote the preceding days to retire- ment, to silence, to prayer, and mortifi- cation ! ifes : my beloved, every in- stant would increase our solicitude, our fears, and our joy. With difficulty should we be able to divest ourselves sufficiently of that awful respect, with which the presence of incomprehensi- ble Majesty inspired us, and to assume sufficient confidence to open our hearts to so great a guest. Whether we were engaged in our accustomed occupa- tions, in company, or in amusements, we should be unable to divert our thoughts from this subject : Jesus, and his infinite love and condescension, would engross our whole attention. —
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The Christian who is affected in this manner, truly discerns the body of the Lord.
The worldly man, I acknowledge, is troubled and confused on the approach of a solemnity, when either custom, example, or the laws of the Church, require that he should present himself at the table of the Lord. — But, my God ! whence originate these senti- ments ? From a heart overflowing with love and fear? From a heart which is convinced of its unworthiness, and which, prostrate in spirit at the feet of Christ, implores the pardon of its mul- tiplied transgressions ? — No, my be- loved : they are engendered by a heart which delights not in the things of God ; which loathes the delicacies of the banquet of the Lord : which, like the blind and the dumb in the gospel, is dragged by the laws of the Church from the lanes and hedges, and high-
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ways of perdition, and placed against its will at the marriage table.
The true Christian, on the contrary, has a greater relish for this heavenly bread, than for all the luxuries of the world. This divine food is the only comfort in his banishment, the remedy for all his evils, the alleviation of all his afflictions, the desirable object of his wishes and tears. He is more attentive, more cautious, more solicitous in his preparations to receive it, than about any other action in life.
Now, my brethren, examine your- selves, and certify with candour and im- partiality, whether or not you are ani- mated with this lively faith of the true Christian. We will then proceed to the second part of the preparation, which consists in a purified conscience, and to which St. Paul alludes in these words : Let a man prove himself before he eat of this bread, 1 Cor. xi»
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2. But in what does this probation consist? Is it merely in the confession of sins, and in the transitory sentiments of contrition, with which, the genera- lity of Christians are animated on these occasions ? Far from it.— You- must reflect, that you are hastening to receive the body of Jesus Christ, the bread of angels, the Lamb without spot, who will endure those only in his sight, who have either preserved their innocence undefiled, or have regained it* by repentance. You must reflect, that it is the Christian Passover of which you propose to partake, and that the participation is lawful only to those who are the disciples of Jesus in- deed ; who renounce their own will, who carry their cross, and who walk in the footsteps of their crucified Sa- viour. You must reflect, that you are about to receive a God of such infinite purity, that the angels are not clean in, his sight, and consequently, that you
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must banish from your heart every de- filement, every stain that is offensive to the eyes of his sanctity. — This, my be- loved, is your probation. Examine yourselves, therefore ; look into the state of your souls ; scrutinize your af- fections ; reason with yourselves in this manner : " I am invited to partake of the sacred body and blood of my Jesus, and to partake in such a manner as to be changed into him. But when this great Searcher of hearts shall enter into my breast, will he discover no- thing that is unworthy of the sanctity of his presence ? Will he find the source of my passions and vices dried up, or will he find that the torrent is pent up only for a time ? Will he say to my soul, as he said to Zacheus : This day salvation is come to this house ? Luke xix. 9. — Have I entirely subdued that passion which has so long exercised its tyranny over me ? — that spirit of re- sentment, of which I
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myself guilty, and repentant at the feet of God's minister r — that love of riches, which has so often led me into acts of injustice ? — that unequal and capricious temper, which is impassioned by the slightest contradiction ? — that vanity, which despises the lowly state in which my forefathers lived ? — that envy, \v hich was always jealous of the reputation and prosperity of my equals? — that censorious and malignant dis- position, which is always ready to con- demn the actions of others, and to ap- plaud my own ? — that spirit of sen- suality, of pleasure, and of immortifi- cation, which reigns in my whole frame ? — Has the confession of my crimes entirely eradicated them from my heart ? Am I a new man ? What am I, O God ? Am I dead, or am I alive in thy sight ? Enlighten my eyes, I beseech thee, and sutfer not thy Christ, thy Holy One to see corrup* tion." In this manner, my beloved
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friends, ought we to prove ourselves. God forbad the Jews to offer honey and leaven in sacrifice : see that you bring not to the altar the leaven of sin and the honey of pleasure; I mean, that love of pleasure and the world, that soft and effeminate disposition, which is an enemy to the cross, and ir- reconcileable with salvation.
3. In the third place, when we com- municate, we must endeavour to be ani- mated with the same sentiments with which our Lord was animated when he instituted this sacrament — / have ar- dently longed, said he to his apostles, to eat this pasch with you, Luke xxii. 15. He sighed for the happy moment : the thought of it soothed the agonizing pains which were occasioned by the foresight of his approaching passion. — Here then is our model. We must seat ourselves at this heavenly table with a heart burning with the seraphic flames of love,, with a heart panting after the
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waters of life, with a heart tormented with a holy hunger and thirst for the body and blood of her Redeemer. " Lord, come and take full possession of my soul," the pious Christian ex- claims with St. Augustine, Conf. b. 1. c. ,5. " come, O Lord, and be my only delight; satisfy my eager desires, ine- briate me with the torrent of thy plea- sures : take off my affections from all creatures, from the whole world itself, and unite me to thee for ever.— If thou shouldst discover in my soul any re- mains of my former corruption, cleanse me with thy grace ; command that I be made whole, John v. 6. Come, O Lord, and delay not : every good thing will come together with tbee : sufferings, persecutions, afflictions, and humilia- tions, will appear as nothing, when I shall have tasted thy ineffable sweet- ness."— These, my beloved, are the sen- timents which ought to accompany us to the altar.
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But, alas ! what are the sentiments of the generality of Christians ? Some have a loathing, a disgust for this di-
O * O
vine food ; to partake of it at the times of indulgence, is thought too often : some would not communicate even once a year, were they not driven to the altar by the anathemas and excom- munications of the Church. — My God! is it possible that this precept of love, which constitutes the whole happiness of a Christian on earth, should be considered even by a single individual as a painful duty ! Is it possible that the most glorious privilege, with which man can be favoured, should be a sub- ject of constraint and disquietude! Didst thou expect such treatment, O divine Jesus ! when, out of compassion to lost man, thou didst bequeath thy- self to him in this adorable sacra- ment ? — Others approach the altar with a sluggish heart, a depraved taste, a frozen soul, These people frequent
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the sacraments, and'indulge in worldly pleasures alternately : they partake as freely of the table of Satan, as of the table of Jesus : they attempt to serve two masters. A communion costs them only one day of restraint and reserve : their devotion ends with the solemnity : they are content with what they have done, and they return, as if by a pre- concerted agreement with self-love, to their former ways. Thus they come to the banquet with a palate vitiated by the pleasures and follies of the world : they taste not the sweets of this hea- venly food : the tumult of their pas- sions, the recollection of their unlawful pastimes, make a greater impression on their minds, than the presence of Jesus. Against these the Royal Prophet de- nounces a curse : May their table be to them a snare, a stumbling-block, and a scandal, Ps. Ixviii. 23.
To communicate in commemoration of Jesus, my beloved brethren, we must
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awaken in our souls all the tender emo- tions, which are naturally excited in the mind of a lover when communing with the object of his dearest affections. The most tender connections are weak- ened, the warmest friendship is cooled by absence. Jesus foresaw that, after his ascension, his disciples would soon forget his favours and instructions, Moses was only forty days on the mount, and yet, in that short interval of time, the Israelites forgot the prodi- gies which he had wrought in their fa- vour: Let us make gods, they said, who may go before us^ and defend us from our enemies, Exod. xxxii. 1. — In con- sideration of this our natural inconstan- cy, the paternal goodness of our divine Redeemer would not leave us in an or- phan and defenceless state : his infinite love would not expose us to the danger of forgetting him, and therefore he de- scends daily on our altars ; he resides constantly in our tabernacle. — From
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hence the voice of the turtle dove is heard, calling to her beloved, (Cant. ii. 12.) : here we may enjoy his presence, and dwell with increasing raptures on his wonders, his blessings, and his love.
Our pious ancestors, with a truly re- ligious spirit, visited the land which he had sanctified by his presence. The sentiments which were inspired by the sight of the places where he wrought his principal miracles, and shed his pre- cious blood for our salvation, gave confidence to repenting sinners, en- dowed the weak with strength, and in- flamed the just with increased ardour.
It is not necessary, however, to cross the seas. Salvation is near at hand. The word which we preach will, if you please, rest on your lips and in your heart. — Open the eyes of faith — fix them on the altar, and you will see, not a country which he formerly sanctified by his presence, but Jesus Christ him- self.— Approach, then, in commemora-
96 . Fourth Sunday
tion of him.: draw near to this un- quenchable fire of love : rekindle in your breasts the seraphic flames of affec- tion and gratitude. Learn from his
meekness, which would not suffer him to break the bruised reed, or extinguish the smoaking flax, (Isa. xlii. 3. Matt, xii. 20.) that is, to revenge the injuries he received from the weakest, the most defenceless of mankind ; learn, I say, to correct the sallies of an impatient and hasty temper. — From his laborious and painful life, learn to renounce a life of softness and ease. — From his modesty and humility, learn to correct the odi- ous passions of pride and vain-glory. — From his zeal against the profaners of his temple, learn to present yourselves before him with respect and fear. — From his fast of forty days, learn to exercise yourselves in the holy virtues of mortification and penance.— From his love and charity for lost man, learn to pity the distresses of the afflicted,
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and to relieve their wants. — From his pious and instructive conversation with his disciples, learn to converse with your neighbour in the language of piety and instruction. — In a word, from his innocence and example, learn to correct every imperfection, every weakness to which you have hitherto been subject. In this manner, you will communicate in commemoration of Jesus.
But if you approach the altar with a heart constantly defiled with the same im- perfections— imperfections, a hundred times repented of, and never sincerely renounced; if you do not endeavour to advance daily more and more in the ways of perfection, but propose to yourselves a certain degree of sanctity, beyond which you never intend to pass ; if you relapse as often as you pretend to repent, and, after many years, are not more devout than you were at first ; if you continue addicted to animosi-
VOL. i. F
98 Fourth Sunday
ties, dislikes, calumny, detraction, va- nity, and pride ; and if you are as unmortified, and as much the enemy of the cross of Christ as betore, oh ! you have more than sufficient reason to tremble.
Perhaps you may ask : " Does the Christian, who is defiled with these habitual imperfections, receive the body of the Lord unworthily ?" This ques- tion can be solved only by the great Searcher of hearts. The following is the only answer that man can give: namely, that such a one does not com- municate in commemoration of Jesus — that, at the last day, many things which appear right and just to man, will be discovered to have been abomi- nations in the eyes of God — that many, who had even prophesied in his name, will be rejected with, I know you not — and that the state of such a communicant is exposed to the great- est danger. — Peter, although the voice
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of Truth had declared him undefiled, was not permitted to partake of the last supper, until Jesus had washed his feet. — Magdalen, although she had washed away her sins, and bathed the feet of her Saviour with floods of tears, was forbidden to touch him after his resurrection, because her eagerness was not divested of every imperfection. — And we, defiled and imperfect as we are, — strangers to t rue penance, — i ntent only on enjoyment and ease, — tepid, and callous to the tender feelings of divine love — we, who neither endeavour nor desire. to advance in piety beyond a cer- tain point — we frequently partake of
his sacred body ! O ! what an abyss,
my friends, — perhaps, what a multi- tude of crimes is concealed from our view, of which we repent not, because we are ignorant of their existence; and which, perhaps, are the stock on which we. engraft innumerable ' pro- fanations ! — What an abyss ! I say F<2
100 Fourth Sunday
'-» V '
again — what a mystery of iniquity will, perhaps^ be revealed on the day
of final retribution ! What am
I in thy sight, O God ! I can neither please thee nor displease thee by halves; — my state will not allow me to steer a middle course between virtue and vice : — if I am not a saint, I am a sacrilegious profaner : — if I am not a vessel of honour, I am a vessel of dis- honour : — if I am not an angel of light -—(there is no medium)— -I am an angel of darkness : — if I am not the living temple of the Holy Ghost, I am a den of unclean spirits. — Good God ! what powerful motives are here for vigilance, circumspection, fear, and love, when we receive the holy communion.
Ah ! the fruits produced by one worthy communion are so abundant, so manifest, the soul is overwhelmed with such a torrent of heavenly graces and communications, that, had I no other reason to suspect the unworthiness of
of Advent. 101
my communions, than the little proiit I reap from them, I should have suffi- cient reason to tremble. The Christi- an, who partakes worthily of this sa- cred food, feels his pious hunger in- creased ; — and I retire from the holy table fatigued, and satiated ; I rejoice that the business is concluded, as if it were a painful, an unwelcome task. —The Christian, who partakes wor- thily of this sacred food, lives only for God ; — and I continue to live for the world, for myself, for my friends, ,for my family ; seldom do I live a single
day for God alone. What then
must I do ? Ought I to refrain from this sacred food ? — What ! shall the fruit of the tree of life be forbid- den me? What! shall the bread of consolation be no more broken for me?
No : my God ! thou wilt not
banish me from thy table. Thou wili- est onl/ that I put on the wedding gar- ment : thou dost not refuse me the F3
J 02 Fourth Sunday, fyc.
bread of thy children, but thou wiliest that I should not, by my unworthi- ness, oblige thee to give me a serpent in its place. Come, then, dear Je- sus, and prepare a place in my heart worthy of thy presence : humble my pride; correct my failings; purify my desires. Thou alone canst be the pre- cursor to prepare thy ways. Fill the immense void in my soul with the gifts of thy Holy Spirit ; enable me to par- take worthily of thy sacred body at the approaching solemnity ; and to live solely, and eternally for thee, O Jesus, my Mediator, my Lord, my God, and my All ; to whom be honour, and power, and praise, and glory, and benediction for ever and ever. Amen.
103 CHRISTMAS DAY.
ON THE BENEFITS CONFERRED ON MAN BY THE BIRTH OF CHRIST.
/ bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all the people ; for this day is born to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord, in the city of David. '*Jr . Luke ii. 10, 11.
THESE are the great tidings which had raised the expec- tations of the world during the long period of four thousand years : this is the great event, which so many prophets had foretold, so many cere- monies had prefigured, so many just men had looked for, and which all nature seemed to promise, and to has- ten, by the universal corruption of all F4
] 04- Christmas Day.
flesh : this is the great blessing, which the goodness of God had prepared for man, from the time that the infidelity of his first parents had subjected him to sin, and death.
The Saviour, the Christ the Lord at length appeals on the earth. The clouds rain down the Just One : the Star of Jacob is manifested to the universe : the sceptre is taken from Juda; and he, who was to come, is arrived : the Lord exhibits to his cho- sen people the promised sign : a virgin conceives, and brings forth a son ; and from Bethlehem the leader comes forth, who is to instruct and govern his peo- ple Israel.
What an accumulation of blessings does this birth announce to the chil- dren of men ! It would not have been so pompously announced, so ardently expected, and desired during so many ag;es : it would not have been the
o '
great object of all the great disprensa-
Christmas Day. 105
tions of God to man, had it not been the most signal testimony of love which the Almighty could give to his creatures. — What a happy night !' The heavens resound with canticles of thanksgiving and praise.
In order that we may be entitled to participate in the transports of joy, which this wonderful mystery dis- penses in heaven, and on earth, it is necessary that we be disposed to par- take of the blessings, which it has purchased for us. — The only cause of this universal gladness, is the means of salvation, which this mystery has pro- cured for all mankind. If, therefore, instead of embracing these means, we are obstinately resolved on perishing, the church weeps over us; and we mingle sorrow, and grief with the joy, which these happy tidings occasion.
But, what are the inestimable bles- sings, which the birth of the Son. of God has purchased for man ? They are. F5
1 06 . Christmas Day.
proclaimed by the angel to the shep- herds; Glory to God on high; and peace to men of good will. The glory, which ignorant, and infatuated man had attempted to usurp, is secured to God; and the peace, to which man had been hitherto a stranger, is imparted to him. The first shall form the sub- stance of the present discourse ; and the second shall be reserved for a future discussion.
1. Man was placed on earth for the sole purpose of giving to the Author of his existence the glory, and homage, which exclusively belonged to him.- — Every created object reminded him of this duty, — To the sovereign majesty of his God he owed the tribute of ho- mage, and adoration : — to his paternal goodness, the tribute of love ;— to his infinite wisdom, the sacrifice of his rea- son, and understanding. These duties were engraven in his heart, and im- planted in his very nature ; they were
Christmas Day. 107
incessantly announced to him by every creature ; man could not listen to the dictates of his own heart, or to the silent voice of the inanimate creation, without hearing them enforced. — Ne- vertheless he forgot them : he turned a deaf ear to every admonition, and entirely effaced them from his mind. The idolater gave to creatures that glory which was due to the Creator alone: — the Jew honoured him writh his lips, and confined his testimonies of love and gratitude to an exterior ho- mage, which was unworthy of his in- finite majesty : — while the philosopher, hewildered, and lost in the intricacies of his own researches, measured the understanding of God by that of man, and vainly thought that reason, which was a stranger even to its own nature, could fathom the deepest truths. With these three evils was the whole world infected. God was either not known, or not glorified; and man forgot his F6
108 Christmas Day.
own weakness, and corruption, by lis- tening to the suggestions of ignorant pride.
To what excess did idolatry extend its profane worship ! The death of an universally admired character was the signal for his introduction to the rank of a divinity, and his vile remains, on which his inanity was stampt in the most indelible character, became the title of his imaginary glory, and im- mortality. Conjugal love had its pe- culiar duties ; impure love imitated its example, and erected altars to its own shameful abominations. The adulterer, and the fornicator had their temples, their priests, and their sacrifices. — The general folly, or rather, the gene- ral corruption adopted this confused, and detestable worship : the whole world was infected with it : the laws of empires authorized it: the splendor of the sacrifices, the magnificence of the temples, and the immense riches of
Christmas Day. 109
the idols, gave an awful respectability to its extravagance. — Every nation was jealous of having gods of its own: and when no individual of the human species could be found, who had so far distinguished himself as to be judged Avorthy of the god-head, they pros- tituted their adoration to the brute creation. Impure homage became the worship of these impure divinities : cities, mountains, fields, and deserts were defiled by the superb edifices erected to the gods of pride, impurity, and revenge. The multitude of divini- ties was equal to that of the passions : gods were almost as numerous as men: every thing was a god on earth, except the God who made it. Pie alone was unheard of by the greater number of his creatures. He alone was either re- jected, forgotten, or unknown.
In this manner was the world, al- most from the beginning, plunged in the horrors of darkness, and ignorance :
1 10 Christmas Day.
every age added new impieties. The nearer the time approached, which was decreed for the coming of the Messiah, the more did the corruption of man increase : Rome herself, the mis- tress of the world, adopted every mode of worship peculiar to the different na- tions who submitted to her yoke ; and erected within her walls temples to the idols of every conquered people ; — temples, which might be more properly denominated the public monuments of her folly, than of her victories.
But the general corruption of all- flesh could not induce the Almighty to shower down the fire of his wrath on the guilty, as formerly on Sodom and Gomorrah, nor to exterminate the whole race by another deluge : — no ; his mercy had decreed to effect their salvation. He placed in the heavens the sign of his alliance with mankind; and this true sign was not the luminous rainbow which appears in the clouds,
Christmas Day. 1 1 I
but Jesus Christ his only Son, the Word made flesh, the true seal of an eternal alliance, and the only light which enlighteneth the world.
On this day he appeared on the earth, and restored to his Father the glory, which an impious idolatry had endeavoured to wrest from him. The homage^ which his pure and immacu- late soul, united to the Word Incar- nate, paid to the majesty of God, made abundant amends in an instant for all the honour which an ungrateful world had withheld from him, and prosti- tuted on creatures. An Adorer— God- man, gave more glory to the Divinity, than all ages, and all idolatrous na- tions had taken from him. — Agreeable must this homage of an Incarnate God have been in the eyes of the Great Sovereign of the universe; since it alone erased idolatry from the earth, overturned its profane altai^ crumbled to dust the vain, idols, imposed silence
1 1 2 Christmas Day.
on the oracles of devils, and changed their superb temples, which had hi- therto been the asylums of every abo- mination, into houses of adoration, and prayer. — Thus was the face of the earth renewed: (Ps. ciii. 30.) the only true God, who had hitherto been unknown in the midst of cities the most renowned for learning, and civi- lization, began to be adored: the world acknowledged its Maker: God entered into the possession of his rights : a worship worthy of him was established over the earth: and adorers were selected in every place, Avho began to adore him in spirit and truth.
This was the first benefit arising from the birth of Christ. — But, my beloved brethren, are we partakers of this benefit ? We do not indeed adore idols: we abhor an incestuous Jupiter, an impure Venus, a dissolute Apollo, a cruel and vindictive Mars. But is the true God more glorified, in the whole, by us, than he was by the pa
Christmas Day. 113
q;ans ? Do we not substitute in his
o .
place, and adore riches, sensuality, the world and its pleasures ? For every thing, that we love more than God, we adore : every thing that we prefer before our Creator, we make the God of our heart : every thing, that exer- cises supreme dominion over our thoughts and actions, our desires and affections, our hopes and fears, is in reality the object of our worship ; and in this sense, may it not be said with truth, that our passions are our gods, and that to them we sacrifice the true God?
How many idols of this description are there in the Christian world ! — Impure love has its votaries r at its shrine are sacrificed riches, repose, peace of mind, and health both of body and soul. Wealth is a divinity, which engrosses the thoughts, the cares, the actions, the soul, the mind, the will of thousands : its altars are incessantly
1 1 4 Christmas Day.
surrounded, and no sacrifice is refused which it exacts as the price of its fa- vours.— Shameful intemperance, like- wise, which vilifies the name, and character of man, which is the bane of morality, which stupifies and drowns the brightest talents in the excesses of liquor and debauchery, and leaves a relish and inclination for nothing but the grossest pleasures of the sensual appetite; this shameful intemperance, I say, is another idol ; and its senseless votaries proclaim, that life would not be worth enjoying, unless a considera- ble portion of it were consecrated to
its worship. The passions of men
created the impure gods of heathen- ism : and Jesus destroyed those idols, by subduing the passions which created them. You seat them again on their usurped throne, when you indulge the same passions which made the whole world idolaters. — Of what avail is it, therefore, to know that there is only
Christmas Day. M5
one God, if you prostitute your ho- mage to other objects ? True worship proceeds from the heart; and if you devote not your heart to the service of God, you substitute, like the pagans, vile creatures in his place, and you give him not the glory which belongs to him.
The object, therefore, of the birth of Jesus was, not merely to manifest the name of his Father to mankind, and to establish on the ruins of idolatry the knowledge of the true God, but to form a congregation of adorers, who would place neither merit, nor reli- ance in exterior worship, when di- vested of the interior spirit of purity and love; and who would consider mercy, justice, and sanctity, as the most acceptable offering to the Di- vinity, and the most pompous orna- ments of his worship. — This is the se- cond important benefit arising from the birth of Christ.
1 16» Christmas Day.
2. God was known in Judea, says the prophet. Judea erected no idol in her public places ; nor paid to any other the homage which was due to the God of her father Abraham, Num. xxiii. 21. This was the only portion of the earth preserved from the general contagion. But the magnificence of her temple, the- splendor of her sacri- fices, the pomp of her solemnities, the exactitude of her legal observances had alone engrossed the attention of her children. She entered not into the spirit of interior worship, but confined her whole religion to the strict per- formance of these exterior duties. The morals of her inhabitants were not less corrupt than were those of the Gen- tiles: injustice, fraud, deceit, adultery, and every vice was prevalent, and even promoted by their attention to exterior observances alone. God was honoured with the lips, but the hearts of this un- grateful people were far from him.
Christmas Day. 1 1 7
Jesus came to undeceive Judea of an error so gross, so ancient, and so in- jurious to his Father. He came to teach his people that, however satisfied man may he with the performance of mere exterior worship, God considers the heart alone ; that every species of homage in which the heart has no share, is rather an insult* and a mock- ery, than true worship ; that it is use- less to purify the outside, if the inside continue defiled with corruption ; and that the only adoration which is acceptable to him, is adoration in spirit and truth.
J3ut, alas ! my brethren, is not this gross error — this error which was so often the subject of our Saviour's re- proaches against the synagogue, is it not, I say, the error of the greater number of Christians of the present time ? In what does the chief part of our religion consist? It consists, I am afraid, in certain exterior observances
1 1 8 Christmas Bay.
alone, in fulfilling certain public duties prescribed by the laws of God and of the Church : and, what is more, I fear that the piety even of the more regular members of the Christian body extends no further. They assist at the holy mysteries regularly ; they scruple to transgress the laws of the Church: they recite certain prayers to which they are habituated; they celebrate the solemn festivals by the frequenta- tion of the sacraments ; and this is all. They are not jnore detached than other men from the world, and its criminal pleasures ; they are not less attentive to the vanities of dress, or to the ac- quisition of wealth ; they are not more disposed to break off a criminal en- gagement, or to avoid the occasions •which have always proved fatal to their innocence : they perform not even these exterior duties of religion either •with a pure heart, a lively faith, or an unfeigned charity ; all their passions
Ch ristmas Day. 1 1 9
maintain their influence notwithstand- ing these religious exercises, which they are prompted to observe, proba- bly, more out of respect to decency and custom, than from a sense of the duty which they owe to God. — I will allow, indeed, that they are actuated by a kind of fear : for, if they lived, like the im- pious, without attendance on any pub- lic duties of religion, without any ex- terior profession of worship, they would consider themselves as accursed in the sight of God, and worthy of the sudden, and most dreadful judgments of heaven. — But how inconsistent is the heart of man ! These very duties they do not scruple to violate, and render nugatory by their criminal ex- cesses ; and without remorse, without dread, or rather with the most pre- suipptuous confidence, they dare to frustrate the effect of these superficial remnants of religion by a conduct which religion condemns, and abhors :
] 20 Christmas Day.
they continue on in the commission of crimes which will inevitably draw down the wrath of God, and they appear not to be conscious of their danger : they are satisfied in mind with what they do, and imagine that they give to God what belongs to him, whereas their only religion is, and has been all along, mere external homage : a homage which is entirely useless; a homage which He looks down upon with abhor- rence, and indignation.
Nevertheless, these, as I have al- ready said, are the most upright, the most regular, in the eyes of men, of all who are designated under the class of worldings. They have not shaken off the yoke, like so many others ; they blaspheme not what they do not understand : they laugh not at the sa- cred mvsteries of religion ; thev con-
v \j v
sider not the service of God, ,as be- neath their attention ; but notwith- standing all this may be said of them,
Ch ristmas Day. 1 2 1
their attachment to religion is not centered in the heart, it possesses no influence over their conduct; they dishonour the service of God by their crimes: they are Christians only in name. Thus, exterior pomp of wor- ship exists amongst us, with a depra- vation of morals more deeply rooted, and more universal, than the prophets even imputed to the obduracy and hypocrisy of the Jews. Thus the re- ligion, in which we glory, is no more than a superficial mode of worship in respect to the greater number of the faithful. Thus the new covenant, the law of spirit and life, which ought to be written on our hearts, and which ought to form adorers in spirit and truth, produces mere phantoms, false adorers, worshippers only in appear- ance, a people like the Jews, who honour him with their lips, but whose cor- rupted hearts, defiled with numberless . crimes, and bound down to the earth VOL. i. G
122 Christmas Day.
by the chains of lawless passions, are always far removed from him.
In this second benefit, therefore, of the birth of Jesus, the greater number of Christians have no share. Jesus abolishes the worship of the Jews be- cause it was purely exterior, and con- fined to the sacrifices of beasts, and to legal observances. In the place of these empty shadows he substituted a law which the heart alone can fulfil : he substituted a system of worship, of which the love of his Father is the first and principal act of homage. But this sacred worship, this new com- mandment of love, this holy deposit which he has bequeathed to us, has de- generated in our hands : we have de- based it into a pharisaical worship, in which the heart has no share, which restrains not our irregular inclinations, which has no influence over our morals, and which makes us so much the more criminal, as we abuse the gift which
Christmas Day. 1 2 3
was intended to eradicate our vices and purify our souls.
3. In the third place, the ignorance and corruption of mankind had de- prived the Almighty of the glory which was due to his Providence, and eternal wisdom. The philosophers of old, who were necessitated by the voice of reason to acknowledge the existence of one only Supreme Being, represented him either as a Deity wrapped up with- in himself, and too great to condescend to pay attention to the things of this .earth, or as a God without liberty; who, although he was the Lord over mankind, was governed by the decrees of what they called Fate, and on ac- count of this subjection, could not prevent any action of man, or any oc- currence in the world ; all which they supposed were predestinated so to be, and must happen of necessity. — Jesus -came to restore to his Father the glory which had been wrested from him by G 2
1 24 Christmas Day.
•this pernicious error : he came to teach mankind that faith is the source of true wisdom, and that the sacrifice of reason is the first step to Christian phi- losophy : he came to remove every doubt respecting the nature of the Deity, and to teach us what was pro- per to be known concerning him, and what to remain unknown.
But, alas ! where are the believers who make the entire sacrifice of their reason to faith, and bow down their heads in silent respect, and adoration, before the majestic veil of religion? — I speak not of the impious who say, There is no God : but I speak of the greater number of the faithful, whose .ideas of the Divinity are as false and human, as those formerly entertained by the pagan philosophers. This nu- merous class of adorers of the true God, consider not the occurrences of life as ordained, or permitted by his providence : they live as if either
Christmas Day.
chance, or the caprice of men were the causes of what happens on the earth ; they seem to think that prosperity and adversity are the two divinities which govern, and preside over every thing that passes in the world. - This is cer- tainly the fact : for, if they looked up to God as the great disposer of all hu- man events, would they murmur and complain, would they indulge impa- tience and despondency, would they entertain the spirit of envy and re- venge, when any thing happens con- trary to their inclinations, or interest ? — I speak, likewise, of those men who imagine, that the mysterious ways of God, in promoting our eternal welfare, ought to be laid open to the under- standing ; and finding that the powers of reason are too weak to fathom the secrets of his grace in operating the salvation of his elect, will not exclaim with the apostle : O the depth of the wisdom, and knowledge of God, (Rom. G3
J 26 Christmas Day.
xi. 33.) but are tempted to believe that, either God does not concern him- self about our salvation, or that it is to no purpose that we be concerned about it ourselves. — I speak of those men, who delight in the giddy circles of dissipation, who discover something plausible, and convincing in the weak- est, and most senseless arguments which incredulity opposes to faith ; who seem to wish that religion were false, and who are less affected by the weight of proofs, by which the swellings of our Reason are repressed, and truth and im- mortality brought to light, than by a declamatory harangue, which proves nothing except the boldness of impiety
and blasphemy. Finally, I speak of
many Christians who tacitly avow that the belief of the wonderful prodigies, which religion has recorded, is cal- culated only for the ignorant and the simple; and who seem to think that the subversion of the order of nature.
, Christmas Day. 1 27
by the miraculous interposition of pro- vidence, is a work too great for the Almighty to effect, except on the most extraordinary occasions ; and who re- fuse to acknowledge a continuation of miracles in a church which was founded on them, which glories in them as the peculiar and distinctive mark of her divine origin, and which is herself the greatest miracle.
These unhappy men wrest from God the glory which the birth of Jesus had ensured to him. He taught us to cap- tivate our reason to the belief of the incomprehensible mystery of his mani- festation in our flesh. He terminated the wanderings of the human mind, and withdrew it from the abyss of error, into which it had fallen under the guidance of human reason, and brought it to the paths of truth and life. — We, nevertheless, refuse to sub- mit to his authority, and even under the empire of faith, we desire to follow G 4
128 Christmas Day.
as formerly the standard of weak rea-
•I
son. Those mysteries of religion which are above our comprehension, stagger our belief: we wish to reform every thing : we have doubts about every tiling : we imagine that God thinks like man. Without entirely renouncing our faith, we destroy its influence. Hence our morality is vitiated, our vices are multiplied : the love of pre- sent things is enkindled in our hearts; the love of the good things to come is utterly lost and extinguished. Hatred, and dissensions are diffused every where among the faithful, and the primitive tracts of innocence, holiness, apd cha- rity, which in the first ages made re- ligion appear amiable in the eyes even of those who refused to embrace it, are in danger of being effaced for ever from the minds of the greatest part of men. — Let not this be said of all.
Let us, mv beloved brethrenv enter
Christmas Day. 129
into the spirit of this solemnity. May Jesus be born again in our souls : may he take possession of his rights over us. — We shall then, in union with his faithful followers, give to God the glory which in justice belongs to him ; and he, in return, will admit us into a partnership of his glory in the king- dom of heaven.
G5
130
SUNDAY WITHIN THE OCTAVE OF CHRISTMAS.
ON THE BENEFITS CONFERRED ON MAN BY THE BIRTH OF CHRIST.
/ bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all the people : for this day is born to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord, in the city of David. .... Lukeii. 10, 11.
AGAIN, my beloved friends, your attention is summoned to the joyful tidings announced by the angels. A Saviour is born to us, who is Christ the Lord. His empire shall be extended, and there shall be no end of peace, Isa. ix. 7. By the comple- tion of this wonderful mystery, the seed of the woman has crushed the ser- pent's head, (Gen. iii. 15.) ; the hand-
Sunday within the Octave, 8$c. 1 3 1
writing, that was against us, is revers- ed, (Col. ii. 14.) : the jaws of hell are closed, and the gates of heaven are thrown open to all who are seriously disposed to enter. The times foretold by the prophet are, in a spiritual sense, arrived : The wolf dwelleth with the lamb, (Isa. xi. 6.) ; — the lawless pas- sions of the mind are hushed, and the spirit of meekness resides undisturbed in the breast. The calf, the lion, and the sheep live together, and a little child leadeth them, (ibid.) Pride, ambi- tion, and the lust of power, the haughty tyrants of the soul, have re- signed their place to the more humble virtues of mildness and simplicity.— Or, in another sense, the lion, the great and mighty ones of the earth, — mix confusedly with the calf and sheep — the ignorant and the simple, in the fold of Christ ; and a little child — the humility and simplicity of the gospel, is the indiscriminate guide of all. The G 6
Sunday within the Octave
bear feeds with the calf, and their young ones lie down together ; they do not hurt) neither do they kill in all my holy mountain, (Isa. xi. 7, 9«) : — hatred, animosity, and revenge are forgotten, and the spirit of brotherly love, and unlimited forgiveness of injuries, have dispelled the tumults of the breast, and diffused an universal peace. The lion eats straw like the ox, (ib. 7.) : — the love of sensual pleasures is re- nounced, and the evils which it en- tailed on mankind are no more. The sucking child plays on the hole of the asp, (ib. 8.) : — innocence of mind has dispelled the terrors and alarms which haunt the imagination of the guilty, and the securest confidence and peace direct all their steps.
These mystic times, my beloved, are arrived. An universal peace is an- nounced to us. — But have we hitherto enjoyed this peace ? It is, indeed, an- nounced to all ; but it is enjoyed only
of Christmas. 1 33
by men of good will. — On this subject I will enlarge in the present discourse ; hoping that the description of the be- nefits imparted by this happy peace will stimulate your endeavours to banish from your breasts the evils. which have hitherto prevented your enjoyment of it.
1. An universal peace reigned over the universe when Jesus, the Prince of Peace, (Isa. ix. 6.) appeared on the earth. All the nations subjected to the Roman empire peaceably endured the yoke of those haughty conquerors of the world. Rome herself, after the- numberless dissensions which had de- populated her streets, and inundated Asia and Europe with the blood of her citizens, rested from the horrors df war, and, reduced under the authority of a Caesar, found in her servitude that peace, which she never enjoyed during the days of her boasted liberty.
The universe was thus in a state of
1 34 Sunday ^within the Octave
profound peace; but it -was not the peace which was promised to men of good will. Notwithstanding the din of arms had ceased, mankind were ad- dicted to the most violent and tor- menting passions, and experienced within themselves wars and dissensions of the worst description. Ignorant of their God, victims of the tumults and divisions of their own breasts, assaulted by the multiplicity and the incessant contrariety of their disordered inclina- tions, they were strangers to true peace : and no wonder ; for they sought after this peace in the very source that gave rise to all their trou- bles and disquietudes.
Our divine Redeemer descends on the earth with full power to impart to man that happy peace, which the world could not give. He comes to apply the proper remedy to the disorder. His divine philosophy is not confined to pompous precepts, which flatter the un-
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derstanding without eradicating the evil ; but as pride, self-love, hatred, and revenge, were the sources from whence proceeded the tumults of the heart of man, he comes to hush them into peace by his grace, his doctrine, and his example.
Yes, my beloved, pride was the pri- mary source of the evils which were endured by the children of men. — What wars, what devastations had this detestable passion occasioned in the Avorld ! With what torrents of blood had it deluged the universe ! What was the history of all ages and states ? What was the history of peoples and nations, of princes and conquerors ? What was it, but the history of the direful calamities which pride had poured forth on mankind ? The whole world resembled a melancholy theatre, on. which this restless and haughty passion daily exhibited the most shock- ing spectacles. — The external effects,
] 36 Sunday within the Octave
however, of this vice were only a faint resemblance of the agitations which proud man experienced in his soul. Ambition was exalted to the rank of virtues ; and indifference about honours and supereminence was treated as mean- ness of soul. A single man spread ter- ror and devastation over a whole king- dom, overturned its laws and customs, and buried thousands in the abyss of poverty and distress, with no other object in view, than the usurpation of the first place among the people. The success of his crimes excited admira- tion and respect: and his name, stained with the blood of his fellow creatures, shone in the annals of history with superior lustre. Thus was a fortunate and bloody warrior considered the greatest man of his
age. This passion in the hearts of
the multitude was equally furious and restless, although attended with less brilliant effects. The obscure man was
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n ot more tranquil than the man of dig- nity : each one contended for supe- riority above his equals : each one at- tempted to satisfy the desires of pride ; and, as these were insatiable, each one divested himself of the possibility of enjoying either peace or tranquillity. Thus was pride the source of honour and human glory ; and thus, likewise, was it the fatal destroyer of the repose and happiness of mankind.
The birth of Christ exposes the fal- lacy of this error, and restores to the world the means of attaining true
peace. He could have manifested
himself to mankind decorated with all the splendor of wealth and power : he had a right to assume the pompous ti- tles of Conqueror of Juda — of Legisla- tor of his people — of Saviour of Is- rael : Jerusalem would have acknow- ledged him with those glorious dis- tinctions. But Jerusalem had worldly glory only in view; whereas Jesus
138 Sunday within the Octave
came to teach her that such glory was vain ; that worldly pomp1 and gran- deur were of no consideration in the eyes of God, and, consequently, ought to be of no consideration in the eyes of men ; and that the oracles of the pro- phets foretold the coming of a Saviour, who was to redeem and sanctify the world, not by riches, and honour, and power, but by humility, ignominy, and suffering.
He, therefore, was born in Bethle- hem, in a state of poverty and abjec- tion : — He, whose birth was celebrated by the canticles of all the heavenly choirs, was born without any external pomp: — He, who was superior to prin- cipalities and powers, was not decorat- ed with any title that could distinguish him in the eyes of men : — He, whose name was above all names, and who alone had power to inscribe the names of his elect in the great book of life, permitted his own name to be enrolled
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amongst the most obscure of the sub- jects of Caesar: — to him, only shep- herds— simple and ignorant shepherds, pay their homage, although every thing that is in heaven, in hell, or on earth, was dependant on him : — in a word, every thing that was calculated to confound human pride was exhibit- ed at his humble birth. Ah ! my
beloved, look at your Saviour : if ti- tles, if rank, if prosperity and wealth, were calculated to make you happy here below, and give peace to your souls, Jesus would certainly have pos- sessed them, and imparted the valuable gift to his favoured disciples. But he informs us, by his example, that peace can be obtained only by despising them : he teaches us, that happiness depends on repressing those desires, which had hitherto been the only ob- jects of our solicitude : he points out to us blessings of a more durable and substantial quality j — blessings, which
140 Sunday within the Octave
alone are capable of tranquillizing our hearts, of satisfying our desires, of as- suaging our pains ; — blessings, which man cannot take from us, and which may be obtained by only loving and desiring them.
And yet, where is the man that en- joys this happy peace ? Wars, tumults, and miseries, are as common now as at any former period. Empires and states, which- adore the God of peace, are not more peaceable than the nations of idolatry ! — Where will you find that peace among Christians which 'ought to be their inheritance ? Will you find it in cities ? No : pride reigns tri- umphant there ; "every one is actuated by pride ; every one attempts to be greater than his forefathers ; every one envies the good fortune of a neighbour who attains honour or wealth. — Will you find it within the precincts of do- mestic retreat ? Here you will discover that every enjoyment is embittered by
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solicitudes and cares : you will see the father incessantly husied and troubled, not so much about the Christian edu- cation, as about the temporal advance- ment of his children : these disquie- tudes and anxieties will accompany him to the grave, he will bequeath them to his children as an inheritance, and they in the same manner will hereafter transmit them to their de- scendants. — Will you find it in the palaces of kings ? Here, likewise, a boundless ambition corrodes every heart : here, under the specious ap- pearances of festivity and joy, the most violent and destructive passions are matured : here, happiness seems to re- side, but in reality, the victims which pride consigns to wretchedness and discontent, are more numerous than elsewhere. — Will you find it in the humble cottage ? From hence, indeed, many of the more violent passions are removed, but peace is not admitted in
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their place : petty animosities, disap- pointments, jealousies, the fear of com- ing to want, and numberless other evils, torment their souls : there is al- ways some untoward accident, some disagreeable behaviour, or unkind treatment from a neighbour, that dis- turbs their peace : and even where no external evils exist, there is always something wanting to complete their comfort ; they are not satisfied with exactly what they have, and conse- quently, they enjoy not that peace which our Saviour came to impart to men of good will. — O blessed peace of my Jesus ! which surpasseth all under- standing, and which art the only re- medy for the innumerable evils occa- sioned by pride, when wilt thou come, and take full possession of our hearts ? 2- To the calamities I have already described, were added others arising from a different, though not less ma- lignant source ; I mean, from the im*
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pure desires of the flesh. — Man had forgotten the excellence of his nature, and the sanctity of his origin, and had given himself up, like the beasts, to the impetuosity of that animal instinct. He concluded that, as this was the most violent and the most universal passion of the human breast, it was on that account the most innocent and lawful. To give a still greater sanc- tion to these lustful excesses, he made them a part of his religion, and formed to himself impure gods, in whose tem- ples this impious vice became a part of their religious worship. Even a phi- losopher, who in other respects stands in the first rank amongst the pagan sages, fearing that marriage would put a restraint on that abominable passion, proposed the abolition of that sacred union, in order to introduce a promis- cuous intercourse between the sexes, as it is with beasts, and to continue the succession of the human race by crimi-
] 44 Sunday within the Octave
nal means alone. In proportion as this habit of dissoluteness was the pre- vailing distemper of the times, the ap- pearance of its depravity seemed to be lost in the general corruption. But, my beloved friends, what a deluge of evils has it spread over the world ! With what fury have we seen nations lighting against nations, kings against kings, brothers against brothers, spreading carnage and devastation on every side ! These, in all probability, were for the most part judgments of God, which the multiplied commission of this vice drew down on the heads of the guilty.-— — In the individual this vice became an inexhaustible source of troubles and remorse. It flattered the soul with the assurance of pleasure, and of cairn, undisturbed enjoyment ; but jealousy, suspicion, rage, excess, satiety, inconstancy, and melancholy, attend- ed its footsteps. — So apparent, indeed, were these effects, that, although laws,
of Ch ristmas. 1 45
religion^ and universal example autho- rized it, the love alone of internal peace inspired a few prudent men, even in the ages of darkness and corruption, to fly from it with abhorrence.
This motive, however, was too weak to stem the general torrent, and ex- tinguish in the hearts of men the im- petuous violence of this passion* A more powerful remedy was necessary : and this remedy was the birth of a Sa- viour, whose ministry would withdraw mankind from the deep abyss of cor- ruption, would exalt to honour the heavenly virtues of purity and chas- tity, would disengage the unhappy victims of this vice from their disgrace- ful bonds, and would open the gates of peace, by restoring to them the liberty and innocence, of which they had been deprived by their multiplied and abo- minable excesses. — — Jesus was born of a virgin, the most pure of all crea- tures. This circumstance alone was a
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distinguishing encomium on a virtue, to which the world had hitherto been strangers, — a virtue, which was deem- ed a reproach even by his own people. But in addition to this, by taking upon himself our nature, he has incor- porated himself, as it were, with us : we are become the members of his mystical body, and we are destined to sit with him on the right hand of the living £}od, and to glorify him for all eternity.
Exalted, then, dear Christians, is the degree of honour to which our flesh is raised by this mystery. — It is made the temple of God, the sanctuary of the Holy Spirit, the portion of a body, in which the plenitude of the divinity resides ; the object of the complacen- cy and love of the Father. What a dignity ! What an honour ! — But do we not still continue to defile this tem- ple? Do we not enslave to iniquity these members of Jesus Christ ? Do we
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respect our flesh the more, because it is made a sacred portion of the mystical body of our Lord ? — Ah ! this detest- able passion exercises the same tyranny over Christians, who are the children of liberty, light, and holiness, as it formerly exercised over the children of darkness. The havoc it makes in all ranks and conditions is too well known to require description. It is the most universal passion, the most favoured passion. The loss of health, of peace, of content, of happiness, are insuffi- cient motives to arrest its progress. The justice of God, this goodness and love of God, the hopes of heaven, the remorse of conscience, the fears of'hell, are considerations too weak to resist its attacks. — Oh! if you are solicitous to enjoy that peace which our Saviour purchased on this day for -mankind, banish the impure spirit from your hearts ; follow the paths of innocence, and you will experience a tranquillity
148 Sunday within the Octave
and happiness, which is unknown to the children of lust.
3. Lastly, the birth of Jesus recon- ciles the world to his Father ; it unites together the Jew and the Gentile; it abolishes the odious distinction of Greek and Barbarian ; it extinguishes hatreds and enmities; of. all nations, it makes but one people ; of all disci- ples, but one heart and one soul.
Formerly, mankind were united toge- ther by no common band of amity and union. The diversity of religions, of manners, of country, of language, and interest, had, in some degree, diversi- fied in them the same common nature. They exterminated each other like wild beasts ; they placed their glory in slaughtering their fellow creatures, and carrying their bleeding heads in tri- umph, as trophies of their victory. It seemed as if they had received their ex- istence from distinctandirreconcileable creators, who placed them here below
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for no other purpose than to espouse their quarrel, and terminate the con- test by the total extinction of one of the parties.
Jesus, therefore, is come to be our peace, our reconciliation, the corner stone, to support and compact the whole edifice ; the living head, to di- rect all the members, and form all man- kind into one body. Every thing tends to unite us to him, and every thing that unites us to him, unites and reconciles us to each other. We are all animated by the same spirit, the same hope is our common consolation, and we partake of the same divine food. We are enclosed in the same sheepfold, and are led to pasture by the same shep- herd. We are children of, the same father, heirs of the same promise, citi- zens of the same eternal city, and members of the same body.
These are sacred bonds indeed. But, my beloved, have they hitherto been H3
150 Sunday within flte Qctcroe
sufficient to unite us together in peace r Far otherwise : Christianity, which ought to unite all hearts, which ought to he the connecting link of the faith- ful among themselves, and of Jesus with them — Christianity, which ought to reflect the image of the pface which reigns above— Christianity itself is a scene of carnage and devastation. Whilst the idolater and the pagan are reposing under their fig-trees in the arms of peace, the inheritors of the pro- mises, the children of peace, are advanc- ing against each other with fire and sword. Ambition stimulates the rulers to begin the contest; and a false glory inspires the combatants to drench their swords in the blood of their fellow Christians.
- This is not all: even within, the precincts of towns and families, 'the hearts and affections of men are as lit- tle united, as between kingdoms. — Animosities are perpetuated between fa-
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milies ; dissensions are fostered in ci- ties ; injuries and affronts are every where revenged ; reconciliations and sincere forgiveness are extraordinary events ; detraction, back-biting, and slander, infect every company, and enter into every conversation ; self- interest is the motive of every action ; and the humiliations and sufferings of a neighbour are matters of indifference, provided they do not operate as obsta- cles to our own advancement. This is the unhappy state of the Christian world. — Thus, my friends, you see that Jesus has descended on earth in vain. He came to bring us peace : he be- queathed it to us for our inheritance: his favourite injunction was mutual forgiveness and love. But, alas ! peace and union, and brotherly love, are banished from amongst us. Reli- gion, which endows an enemy with "the endearing qualities of a bro- ther, is no longer attended to : the H4
152 Sunday within the Octave
menace of experiencing from the hand of God the same seventy with which we treat our offending brethren, has no effect on our minds ; and in defiance of every consideration, hatred and dis- likes retain possession of our hearts. We live on in this state without fear or ap- prehension : the imaginary justice of our cause calms our conscience, and shuts our eyes to the injustice and cri- minality of our hatred and aversion : and if, at the point of death, we form a reconciliation, or publicly declare before our surrounding attendants that we forgive them, the motive that actuates us is, not that we love them as we love ourselves, but either that the power of perpetuating our ha- tred is about to be taken from us, or that we shudder at the idea of appear- ing before the tribunal of God with a conscience avowedly defiled with gall and bitterness.
Let us, my dearly beloved, throw
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ourselves into the arms of our infant Jesus : let us enter into the spirit of this mystery : let us give to God the glory which belongs to him. This is the only means of regaining the peace, of which our passions have deprived us, and of acquiring a title to the peace which is prepared for us in the world to come.
154
THE CIRCUMCISION:
ON THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST.
His name was called Jesus, which was called by the angel. . . . Luke ii. 21.
H.OW is reason asto- nished and confounded at the sight of a God assuming the form of a creature ! and into what a labyrinth of errors would it not have precipitated itself, had not the light of faith disclosed the depth of the divine Wisdom, which is concealed under the supposed folly of a God-man !— — It may, perhaps, be deemed superfluous to enter on this subject before a Christian auditory.
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are ready to acknowledge that he was a holy and just man :, and, although there have been sqine of late years who have blasphemed againfet his innocence, and have dared to rank him amongst seducers, their names are held in ab- horrence, and their memory is deserv- ing of the detestation of all who have evei\ confessed the name of Christ.
In effect, what man ever, appeared on earth decorated with such indubitable marks of innocence and sanctity ? In v/hat philosopher was ever discovered such a love for virtue, — such a sincere contempt of the world, — such charity for mankind, — such an indifference to human glory, — such interest for the glory of the Supreme Being, —such an elevation above all that the world ad- mires and seeks after? How ardent was his zeal for the salvation of men ! To this object were referred his discourses, his cares, his desires, his solicitudes. The wise men of old exercised their ge-
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nius; and acquired a reputation by ex- posing the weakness and follies of their fellow creatures : Jesus speaks of their vices only for the purpose of prescrib- ing remedies. The philosophers took occasion of pride, from discovering vices in others from which they them- selves were not exempt: Jesus, with a heart melting with compassion, points out faults in others, of which he him- self was innocent ; and sheds tears over the immoralities of a faithless and un- grateful city. The object of the phi-
•t losophers was not so much the reforma- tion of the morals of men, as the desire
1 of acquiring a great name by the supe- riority of their talents and wisdom: Jesus seeks only to save lost man, and, in the pursuit of this object, is as in- sensible to the calumnies and persecu- tions of his enemies, as he is to the ap- plause and commendation of his ad- mirers. Enter into the whole detail of his
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moral conduct, and tell me whether there ever appeared on earth a just man more universally exempt from weaknesses the most inseparable from human nature ? The more you scruti- nize, the more incontrovertible will his sanctity appear. The disciples, who were the most intimately acquainted with his conduct, were the most asto- nished at the innocence of his life : and familiarity, which discovers faults in the most heroic virtue, contributed only to the more perfect knowledge of his perfections. On all occasions he speaks the language of heaven; and all his replies are calculated to promote the salvation of those who question him. Never does he exhibit symptoms of mental weakness : he always appears in the quality of Ambassador of the Most High. In him, the most common ac- tions are rendered extraordinary by the novelty and sublimity of the dis- positions with which he performed
1 62 Circumcision.
them. He appears not less divine when he eats with a Pharisee, than
when he raises Lazarus to life.
Truly, my brethren, mere human na- ture is not susceptible of such subli- mity ; nor can it so perfectly divest it- self of the weakness to which it is con- stitutionally liable. He does not daz- zle the understanding by the display of eloquence and sophistry, like the philo- sophers : but, like a truly just man, he draws the rules and , precepts of his doctrine from his own conduct. What greater proofs of his sanctity could be given, than that the traitor himself, whose interest it was to exculpate him- self by exposing his master's defects, should give public testimony in his fa- vour ; and that the malice of his most declared enemies should not be able to accuse him of any crime ? John viii. 46. Jesus Christ, therefore, being holy, he must consequently be God : other- wise, the doctrine- which he taught,
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as well respecting his Father, as re- specting the duties of man, would be no more than equivocations, calculated to lead mankind into the grossest er- rors.
. 2. Now, what was his doctrine re- specting the Father ? Moses and the prophets incessantly proclaimed that the Lord was the One Great All ; that it was an impiety to debase him by a comparison with any of his creatures ; and that they themselves were his ser- vants and envoys, — humble instru- ments in the performance of the won- ders which he wrought by their minis- try. Not a doubtful expression escap- ed them respecting this most essential point of their mission : no comparison between themselves and the Supreme Being : no equivocal term, which could give rise to superstition and ido- latry, by inducing the people to believe they were equal to the God in whose name they spoke.
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If Jesus Christ were like them, a messenger sent from God, and nothing more, it was certainly incumbent on him to fulfil his ministry with equal fidelity. But what is his language ? he proclaims himself equal to the Fa- ther, (Matt. xi. 2?. ) : he says, that he is descended from heaven, (Johnvi.Sl.y, that he proceeds from the bosom of God, (John xvi. 28.) ; that eternal life depends on knowing the Son, as well as on knowing the Father, (John xvii. 3.) ; that he was before Abraham, (John viii. 58.) ; that he was before all things, (John xvii. 5.) ; that he and the Fa- ther are one, (John x. 30. ) ; and that whatever is done by the Father, is done
by the Son likewise, (Johnv. 19.)
What prophet, except Christ, ever held such extraordinary language ? Who, except Jesus, ever attributed to his own strength the great wonders which the Lord wrought by his ministry ? — Hpw consoling is it, my beloved, to
Circumcision. 165
behold the certitude on which our faith is founded! — Jesus on all occasions places himself on a level with the Deity. Once, indeed, he says, that the Father is greater than him : but what would this mean, were he not himself a God incarnate ? What man of sense would dare to insult our understanding, by seriously asserting that the Supreme Being was greater than he ? Are we not all sensible that there is no proportion between God and man? between the great ALL, and created nothing ? Je- sus, however, does not content himself with asserting that he is equal to God, but he justifies the novelty of his expressions, in opposition to the mur- murs of the Jews, who were scandaliz- ed : and so far from undeceiving, he confirms them in their scandal : - he every where speaks a. language, which would be either senseless or impious, if his divinity were not admitted to ex- plain and justify it. — My friends,
f
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would the pious, the meekr the humble Jesus have acted thus, if he were not God ? Paul and Barnabas rent their garments when they were taken for Gods: they proclaimed aloud before the people, who were preparing to offer sacrifices to them, that they \\ere no- thing more than mortal men ; and that God alone ought to be adored, of whom they were only the envoys and mi- nisters, (Acts xiv. 14.) The angel in the Apocalypse rejected the adoration of St. John with horror,and. with a loud voice commanded him tto adore God alone, (Apoc. xix. 10.) — But Jesus Christ unresistingly permits divine ho- nours to be paid to him : he applauds the faith of his disciples, when they adore, and eall him with St. Thomas, My Lord, and my God, (John xx 28.)' he even confounds his enemies, when they dispute his divhiity, and deny his eternal origin, (Joknvui.) And can at be supposed that Jesus was less zeal-
Circumcision. .. 16*7
ous for the glory of Him that sent him, than his disciples were ? Or was it less incumbent on him than on them, plainly to undeceive the people of a mistake so injurious to the Supreme Being, and by which the whole fruit of his ministry M^ould be destroyed ?
Ah ! what benefit has Jesus conferred on the world, if he be not God? Has he not plunged mankind deeper into the abyss of idolatry r For by whom is he not adored as the eternal Son of the Father, the image of his. substance, and the splendor of his glory ? A small num- ber only of men have existed amongst Christians, who received him merely as the envoy of God, and refused him divine honours. This impious sect, which has acquired the name of Unita- rian, consists only of a few obscure disciples, whose doctrine is held in detestation, and. rejected and anathe- matized by the whole Christian world. — Recal to mind the great promises
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which were so pompously announced to mankind, and tell me whether the small, the obscure society of Unitarians, can be that great people of every tongue, of every tribe, and of every nation, of which the Church of Jesus was to be formed ? Where would then be that superabundance of grace, that pleni- tude of the Holy Spirit, which was to be spread over all flesh ? Where would be that universal renovation, which the prophets foretold with such solemnity, and which was to accompany the birth of the great Deliverer? Are the great advantages, which the world was to acquire by the ministry of Jesus, con- fined within such contracted limits ? Did the oracles of the prophets con- cerning the future magnificence of the gospel, mean nothing more than the formation of the sect of an impious So- cinus ?
My God ! how wise, how reasonable does the faith of thy Church appear,
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when put in opposition to the sense- less contradictions of incredulity ! How consoling is it to believe and hope in Jesus, when we bebold the abyss which pride opens for itself, by preaching new doctrines, and sapping the foun- dation of the faith and hope of Chris- tians !
Thus, dear brethren, you see that the doctrine of Jesus in respect to the Father proves the reality of his eternal origin. — When the prophets spoke of the great God of heaven and earth, they could not find words to express the grandeur and magnificence of their ideas. Lost in the contemplation of the immensity, the omnipotence, and the majesty of the Supreme Being, they exhausted the weakness of human lan- guage in describing the sublimity of their conceptions. This God, they said, is he who measures the wa- ters of the ocean in the hollow of his hand ; who weighs the moun-
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1 70 Circumcision.
tains in his balance, (Isa. xl. 12.) ; who speaks the word, and it is done, (Ps. xxxii. 9.) Thus they spoke; and it was fit that mortal man should speak of the eternal God in this manner. — But when Jesus speaks of the glory of the Lord, he adopts not the pompous descriptions of the prophets : on the contrary, the most tender, the most simple expressions are his choice. He calls him a holy Father — a just and clement Father — a shepherd seeking the lost sheep, and placing it on his shoulders to carry it back to the fold, (Luke xv. 4, 5.) — a father of a family, moved to compassion by the return and repentance of his prodigal child, (Luke xv.) This is the language of a Son. The freedom and simplicity of his expressions manifestly prove that he is acquainted with the secrets of heaven, and that the majesty and glory of the Divinity are familiar to him. This affectionate language of Jesus
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implies a severe condemnation of the sentiments of the greater number of Christians. We know that we are now no longer servants, but brethren, and coheirs with Jesus Christ ; that we have acquired the right of calling God our Father, and ourselves his children. From this knowledge we learn that love, not fear, is to regulate our obedience. »But, my beloved, in what manner do we avail ourselves of this glorious privilege ? By what are we influenced ? Ah ! too true it is, that we serve him more like hirelings and slaves, than like children. We obey him, not be- cause we are affected by his promises and love, but because we dread his judgments. His law, so holy and just, appears not amiable in our eyes : on the contrary, like a yoke it weighs heavy on our shoulders ; it excites our complaints ; and, if no punishment awaited our transgressions) we should •soon shake it off, and rejoice at our 12
1 72 Circumcision.
happy deliverance. We murmur inces- santly against the severity of his pre- cepts; and we employ every argument in order to justify the relaxations which the world has introduced. Thus, we may conclude that, if he were not an avenging God, we should renounce our allegiance to him, and that the lit- tle homage and respect we pay him, is extorted by the terrors of his justice and indignation.
3. We will now proceed to the proofs of his divinity which arededucible from his doctrine and instructions. It is not my intention to enlarge on the wis- dom, the sanctity, the sublimity of this doctrine : I will only remark that, the whole does honour to reason, and to the soundest philosophy : that the whole is proportioned to the weakness, and to the excellency of man ; to his wants, and to his high destiny : that the whole inspires a contempt for perish- able things, and a love of the good
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things of eternity : that the whole is calculated to maintain order and tran- quillity in the world : that the whole is grand, because the whole is true. The wise man of the gospel is excited to the performance of good actions, by the only satisfaction of obeying God, who will be his reward exceeding great; and he is taught to prefer the testimony of a good conscience before the applauses of men : he is superior to the whole world by the liveliness of his faith ; and he is inferior to the last of men in his modest opinion of himself. Glory in his eyes is fallacious ; prosperity is replete with dangers ; afflictions are blessings ; the earth is a place of banishment ; and all that passes with time is no more than a dream. — What man, before Christ, ever delivered such doctrine ? And if his disciples, who only an- nounced his precepts, were taken for gods descended on earth, (Acts xiv, 13
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10.) what ought to be our opinion of Him who was the author of them ?
But we will pass over these general reflections, and proceed to the more precise testimonies of love and depend- ance, which he requires should be paid to him, as well as to the Father.— — He commands us to love him in the same manner as he loved the Father, (John xv. 10.) — to refer all our ac- tions, our thoughts, our desires, and even our whole selves to his glory, in the same manner as to the Father, (Matt. x. et alibi.} ; — he even declares that sins are remitted only in propor- tion as we love him, (Luke vii. 47-) — What prophet, before Christ, ever said to mankind : You shall love me in the same degree as you love the Father ; every thing that you do, you shall do fqr my glory ?
But this is not all that he requires. Tt is his command, not only that we
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\
love him, but that we give testimonies of the most generous, the most heroic love ; that we love him more than we love our relations, our friends, our goods, our life, more than the whole world, more even than we love our own souls, (Luke xiv. 26.) He de- clares that the Christian who is not so disposed, is not worthy of him ; and that he who places him on a level with creatures, or even with himself, disho- nours and injures him, and shall never partake of his promises.
My friends, who but a God could impose such commands ? Life is the gift of the Most High ; and who, but the Most High, can exact the sacrifice of it? Jesus, however, commands us to suffer tortures and death for his name, and with the authority of a God, de- clares, that if we renounce him before men, although it be to avoid the great- est evils, he will renounce us before his Father, (Matt. x. 33.) Ah ! if the 14
1 76 Circumcision*.
hand of God were not with him, if he were not the Word made flesh, can it he supposed that people could have ex- isted on earth so devoid of every na- tural feeling, so deaf to the tender calls of self-preservation, as to run with extasies of delight into the very jaws of destruction in support of such a doctrine ? Can it be supposed that innumerable multitudes of every age, condition, and sex, would have fore- gone the sweetest pleasures of human nature, and have lingered out a miser- able existence in caverns, in naked- ness, and in want,, in hourly expecta- tion of being dragged to the torture, and to martyrdom,, rather than re- nounce their belief in the divinity of Jesus the Son of God ? Can it be sup- posed that such a doctrine, had it been erroneous, could have triumphed over the universe, confounded all sects, united all hearts, and have been ac- knowledged by the wisest men to be
Circumcision, 1 77
superior to all science, wisdom, and doctrine that ever appeared on earth ? No : the ear of rational man cannot listen to such suppositions ; it turns from them with abhorrence.
How consoling, my beloved, is it to see the veil of the sanctuary withdrawn, and to behold the stability of the foun- dation on which our faith and hope are founded !
One reflection shall conclude this discourse. Since we confess that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, it is our indispensable duty to follow his doc- trine. This doctrine requires that we sacrifice to him our will, our friends, our relations, our property, our lives, and every other thing that impedes our progress in the paths of salvation. Faith teaches us that he will make us ample amends for all that we relinquish for his sake ; or rather, that he will give us himself, the greatest of all treasures — the most exquisite of all rewards. 15
78 Circumcisiow.
Let us, therefore, confess Christ, by- acknowledging that he is greater than the world, that he is more able to make us happy, and consequently, more wor- thy of being loved : let us confess him in this manner both in word and deed, and then we may rest assured that he will confess us before .his Father, and unite us to the happy society of his elect in the kingdom of heaven.
T79
SUNDAY BEFORE THE EPIPHANY.
ON THE DIVINITY OF CHRIST.
His name was called Jesus, which was called by the angel. . Luke ii. 21.
1 HIS, my beloved, is the sacred name given to the great Messiah — the Saviour of the human race : this is the name, which God himself hath cnosen for his only Son : this is the name, at the sound of which every knee shall bend, of those that are in heaven, on earth, and in hell, (Phil, ii.10.) This sacred name you all revere ; and from your infancy you have confessed that Jesus Christ is in;
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the glory of God the Father, (Phil. ii. 11.) Jesus the Son of God, has al- ways been the object of your adora- tion, the Author and Finisher of your faith, (Heb. xii. 2.) and the comple- tion of your hope even to the end, (Heb. vi. 11.) In him have been centered all your desires, all your expectations. From him you have sought consola- tion in distress, refreshment in labour, patience in sufferings, and joy in afflictions. From his bountiful hand you acknowledge that you have re- ceived all the blessings and comforts of your life : and that your crosses and adversities have proceeded from no other source than his merciful justice. Your morning sighs have been all waft- ed before his throne ; and your evening lamentations have been poured forth at the foot of his cross. His sacred wounds have preserved you from the horrors of despair ; and his austere doctrine and example have repressed
the Epiphany. 1 8 1
in your bosom the pleasing, but delu- sive dreams of presumption. In him, and for him, you have lived, and moved, and in his embraces, and through his merits you continue to look forward with joyful hope to a blissful immortality. In a, word,, you. have always considered Jesus as truly Ged, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, made man for your redemp- tion. These are your grounded senti- ments. This has always been your creed^
If, therefore, I pursue the subject of my last discourse, let it not be sup- posed that I am actuated by the sense- less desire of convincing you of a truth, of which I acknowledge you are already convinced ; or that I un- dertake to resolve doubts, which I know have never existed in your minds : no ; the real motive, which induces me to lay before you the argu- ments in proof of the divinity of Jesus
182 Sunday before
is no other than the desire of consoling your faith, of displaying before your eyes the great blessings, which are en- sured to you by the incarnation of a God, and of arming you against the insidious and sophistical arguments of modern infidelity.
In my discourse on the late festi- val, I deduced my proofs from the doctrine of Jesus ; I will now apply to another source, namely, the benefits, which Jesus conferred on mankind by his personal ministry on earth, and the magnificent promises, which he held out, of still greater blessings after his. ascen- sion into heaven.
1. The benefits which Jesus was ap- pointed to impart to the world form one of the most incontrovertible proofs of his divinity. — He was sent to deliver men from eternal death : he was sent to blot out the hand- writing that was against them, to reverse the sentence of malediction, and to make them ckil-
the Epiphany. 18$
dren of God : he was sent to open for them the gates of heaven, and to admit them into a partnership of glory with the angels in the bosom of the divinity. These ineffable gifts he was to dispense not to one generation only, but to every succeeding generation to the end of the world* We, as well as our fore- fathers, are to find in him the remedy for all our evils : his sacred body is to be our food, and the application of his precious blood is to wash away all our defilements, and to restore peace and innocence to our souls. It is he who continues to appoint and consecrate pastors for our guidance in the paths of virtue : it is he who inspires teachers, by whose ministry we are instructed in the secrets of salvation : it is he who raises up, from time to time, living models of perfection, whose example is intended to animate us to fight with determined resolution against our spi- ritual enemies. He is always present
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with us (Matt, xxviii. 20.) for dur comfort and support in this place of banishment : he is our way, our truth, and our life, (John xiv. 6.) : he is our justification, our redemp- tion, and our light, (John viii. 12.) This is the doctrine of the scripture respecting the Messiah. — Now, my beloved brethren, would it have been consistent with the wisdom of God to have conferred such, power, such au- thority on any being that was merely human ? Would his jealousy have per- mitted that a mortal man should be the author and the source of so many gifts and graces, and that he should assume a character of such indepen- dence, and self-existence ? Would not his omniscience have foreseen that the great Messiah, so far from effecting the redemption of the world1, would plunge it deeper into the horrors of idolatry, and shut up every remaining avenue to the light of heaven ? Yes, my be
the Epiphany. 1 85
loved : God foresaw all this ; he knew that man would prostrate himself, and pay divine honours to the author of such inestimable blessings ; he, there- fore, sent his only Word, the second Person of the adorable Trinity.
There are many, I presume, of my present hearers, who have but an im- perfect idea of the nature, and the ex- tent of paganism. For their instruc- tion, therefore, it will not be foreign to my subject to state, that, before the coming of Christ, the greater part of mankind were ignorant of the true God. The voice of nature loudly proclaimed to all, that there existed a Supreme Being : but what this Supreme Being was, human nature, unassisted by revelation, could not discover. The secrets of heaven were involved in im- penetrable darkness, and man was left to follow the dictates of his own mind. He knew that he himself was dependent, and that submission was due to him on,
] 86 Sunday before
whom he depended. From this great Being he knew must be derived what- ever might befal him ultimately of good or evil, and he rightly supposed that gratitude for the past was the only way of ensuring the continuance of a favourable interposition in future, and of averting the calamities, which he imagined would otherwise be his un- happy portion. When, therefore, he perceived that any visible thing, whe- ther inanimate, animate, or human, was the channel, through which great blessings were conveyed to him, he concluded that the Deity assumed that shape in order to communicate his gifts : hence, by a natural transition, he represented and adored him under that shape. It was this that induced some nations to adore the sun; others, the moon and stars ; others, the earth from which they received their nourish- ment; others, the cow, the ass, the dog. Others supposed that great and
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good princes, and the inventors of use-? ful arts were gods, and for this reason adored Jupiter, Hercules, Cybele, Vul- can, Mars, Mercury, &c. In a word, during those dark times of ignorance and blindness, man seemed to sigh after the knowledge of the true God ; and, even while the Author of his existence was unknown to him, he did not forget the sentiments of gratitude and dependance which the voice of na- ture suggested towards him. — Thus, we see that the origin of the false gods of idolatry was gratitude on the part of man ; and that his ignorance of the true and living God was the only reason why he did not worship him.
From this short account, my argu- ment to you is simply as follows. No man ever conferred such inestimable blessings on mankind as Jesus. He has purchased for us an eternal peace : he has imparted to us happiness, justice, and
j 88 Sunday before
truth : he has renewed the face of the whole earth : his favours are not confin- ed to one people, or to one generation, they are extended to every nation, and to every age; and, what is more, these inestimable blessings he purchased for us at no less a price than that of his precious blood. — If, therefore, grati- tude exalted the mere instruments of the mercies of God to the rank of divinities, surely no one was more entitled to that distinction than Jesus. Ah ! my beloved, if Jesus be no more than man, could God have seriously in- tended to redeem the world, at the ti*ne that he exposed it to the most imminent danger of idolatry ?
If, indeed, Jesus had admonished his disciples before his death that they were indebted to the Great God aions for so many benefits ; that he himself was not the author and source, but only the minister employed for the distribution of these graces ; that no.
the Epiphany. \ 89
extraordinary honours were clue to him, but that the glory, and honour, and gratitude were due to God alone ; then, I allow, there would have been no danger of our falling into error. But Christ does not terminate his prodigies, and ministry by any such admonitions. On the contrary, he not only com- mands his disciples to remember him, and even place their hopes in him after his decease; but at the moment that he is about to take his final leave, he declares that he will be present with them all days, even to the consumma- tion of the world, (Matt, xxviii. 20.) : he promises them greater blessings than any he had hitherto imparted, and unites them to him still more strongly by indissoluble, and eternal bands.
2. Reflect an instant, my beloved, on the wonderful promises, which he made to his disciples, and you will see that they portend greater blessings
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than any that he had imparted to them during his mortal existence.
In the first place, he promises that he will send to them the Paraclete, the Comforter, whom he calls the Spirit of the Father, and the Spirit of truth, which the world cannot receive, (John xiv.) ; — the Spirit of fortitude, which would animate his followers to suffer martyrdom for his sake ; — the Spirit of understanding, which had enlightened the prophets ; — the Spirit of wisdom, which would lead his church into all truth ; — the Spirit of peace, and charity, which would unite all hearts, and establish the bands of fraternal love between all the faithful.— What a promise was this ! Could man pretend to dispose of the Spirit of God, unless he himself likewise 'were God, and the Spirit were his Spirit ? The promise, hoM^ever, is immediately fulfilled. No sooner is Jesus ascended into heaven, than the Spirit of God descends on his
the Epiphany. ]t)i
disciples. Simple, and ignorant men in an instant acquire a wisdom, that is superior to the wisdom of the wisest of men : the weak display a courage that is proof against all the tortures of the most cruel tyrants. New men, animated with a new spirit, appear on the earth : they draw all people after them : they change the face of the whole universe.
In the second place, Jesus promises to his disciples the power of remitting sins; of opening the gates of heaven to the just man, and of shutting them against the sinner. Surely, my bre- thren, this is the work of Omnipotence itself. Who but God can forgive sins? And who but God, can give power to weak man to exert sirch authority ? But this is not all. He promises to his disciples the gift of miracles, the power of raising the dead to life, of giving sight to the blind, health to the sick, speech to the dumb, and of exercising
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an unlimited command over nature. This promise, likwise, is immediately fulfilled. The disciples wrought every wonder which he had enumerated ; and they wrought them, not in the name of the Father, but in the name of Jesus who was crucified.
To all these promises, he adds ano- ther of still greater magnitude. He assures them that the conversion of the world, and the complete triumph of the cross shall be effected by their preaching : he declares that, at his name the knee shall bend of all that are great, or proudly eminent on earth ; and that his gospel shall be received by the whole universe. Pause awhile, my brethren, and consider the extent of this promise. Who but a God can exer- cise dominion over the hearts of all mankind, and foretel that an universal change of sentiment would take place — a change, of which no example had ever before been known r The un- believer perhaps may say, that this
the Epiphany. 193
great event was revealed to him by God, after the same manner as future events were revealed to the prophets. But no : for, if he is no God, he certainly is no prophet: The truth of his predictions rests entirely on the truth of his di- vinity. — He foretold, that all people sitting in the shades of -death would open their eyes to the light: this pre- diction is false, if he be not God ; for the people from the beginning made him the object of their adoration, and thus fell into a more criminal darkness. He foretold that his Father would be glo- rified, and that his gospel would form a society, of believers out of every na- tion, and tongue, who would adore him in spirit and truth : this predic-. tion likewise is false; for the whole Christian world have dishonoured the Father by prostituting their adoration to the prophet, and will continue to dis- honour him even to the end. He foretold that the idols would be thrown VOL. i. K
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down : and ought be not to have fore- seen that he himself would be exalted in their stead ? He foretold that he would form a holy people out of every tribe and nation under the sun : but if he were a prophet, and nothing more than a prophet, ought he not to have fore- seen that, by his coming, he would only form a new sect of idolaters ? Ought he not to have foreseen, that the innumerable multitudes in every age, who would be converted by the preach- • ing, and miracles of his disciples, would place him on the throne of the living God ; would refer all their actions, and their homages to him; would have his glory continually in view; would wish to live only in him, and for him ; would depend on him alone, would look up to him for power, strength, and motion; in a word, "would adore and love him more spi- ritually, more universally, and more in- timately, than the pagans ever adored,
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and loved their idols ? Ah ! my be- loved, if Jesus be not God, he is not even a prophet : and if he be no pro- phet, he is deserving of all the oppro- brious epithets, which have been la- vished on him by the worst of those, who are, or who ever were in the list of his opponents.
These are the extremes to which in- credulity leads its unhappy votaries. If you destroy the foundation, or re- move the corner-stone, which is Jesus Christ the eternal Son of the living God, the whole edifice falls to the ground. If- you reject the doctrine of a God made man, you deprive faith of its merit, hope of its consolation, and charity of its motives. The first disciples clearly foresaw all these dismal consequences : and therefore they ex- erted every power of eloquence against the impious wretches who dared to call in question the divinity of their master. They knew that the doctrine of an K2
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Ebion, and Cerinthus, tended to de- stroy the very spirit of their religion, to deprive them of their only consola- tion under persecutions, and sufferings, to do away their assurance of a future recompense, and in the end to reduce their exalted pretensions to a mere no- thing. They knew that, if this grand ar- ticle of their belief, namely, the divi- nity of Jesus, were rejected, their religion' would be vain, and that it would be no more than a human doctrine, the work of a man, who, like other founders of sects, would have left no other inheri- tance to his disciples than the honour of being distinguished by his name.
So great was their zeal in defence of this doctrine, that the pagans them- selves made it the subject of their re- proaches. Pliny, a Roman proconsul, and a celebrated winter, (Plin. Ep, i. 1.) in an account which he transmitted to the Emperor Trajan concerning the morals and doctrine of Christians,
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readily allows that they were just, in- nocent, and upright men ; that they assembled together before sun rise, not to form plans of depredation, or of civil commotion, but for the purpose of living piously and justly, of excit- ing each other to mutual detestation of frauds, adulteries, and desires of other men's goods. The only pre- tended fault of which he accuses them is, that they sung hymns and canticles in honour of Jesus Christ, and paid to him the same homage as to God him- self.— If the first Christians had not given divine honour to Jesus Christ, they would undoubtedly have refuted this calumny : they would have re- moved from their religion every ap- pearance of the kind : they would have discontinued a practice which they knew to be the greatest — if not the only circumstance, that could operate as a scandal to the Jews, and a stumb- ling block to the Gentiles : they would K 3
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have proclaimed aloud : " We do not adore Jesus Christ ; far be it from us to give to creatures the honour which is due to God alone." But they were silent : they did not attempt to excul- pate themselves. Their apologists re- futed every other calumny, which the pagans had thrown upon their doctrine: they justified themselves on every other point: they explained, they refuted the most trivial accusations; and by their public addresses delivered to the Senate imposed silence on all their other enemies. But they say nothing' respecting their idolatry towards the person of Christ : they are not moved by the reproach of adoring a crucified man — a reproach, which must have been most severely felt by men, who. were so holy, such declared enemies to idolatry, and so jealous of the glory of God. They not only do not vindi- cate themselves, but they justify the accusation by their silence : but why do.
the Epiphany. 199
I say, by their silence ? They publicly declare their belief by the most un- equivocal testimonies : they suffer for his name : they die for his name : they confess him before tyrants and perse- cutors : they expire with joy on racks and gibbets, in the consoling expecta- tion of being hereafter united to him, and of receiving from him a life of greater glory and happiness, than the one which they sacrificed for his name. When these truly virtuous men were required to bend their knees before the statues of Caesar, when even, out of a mistaken compassion, their friends pro- posed to give false testimony before the magistrates, asserting that they had offered sacrifice to idols, they declared that they were ready to suffer every spe- cies of torture and death, rather than commit or mislead the people into a supposition that they had committed such a crime. And shall it be believed K4
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that flqen like these would have suffered themselves to be accused of paying divine honours to Jesus; without en- deavouring to refute the calumny ? — • Let the enemies of our religion fancy what they will, not a corner of the uni- verse, I am very sure, but would have resounded with their protests, and pro- testations against the infamy of so de- testable a charge. No torment can be thought of, no sort of death, in any of its most formidable shapes, and fright- ful appearances, can be imagined, to which they would not most willingly have exposed themselves, rather than give occasion to so odious, so execra- ble a suspicion. What car incredulity oppose to this ? Yes, my beloved, it is an .incontrovertible truth, that the be- lief in the divinity of Jesus began with the Church, that it raised the whole edifice of Christianity, that it formed the whole host of martyrs, and that it renewed the face of the universe.
the Epiphany. 20 1
Now that I have displayed the proofs of this great principle of our religion before youreyes, Iwillconcludewith this only reflection. — Jesus Christ being the grand object of the piety of Christians, it is the indispensable duty of everyone of you to be familiar with his doctrine, and obedient to his precepts. YOU. ought to meditate frequently and at- tentively on his holy law, to have re- course to him in ail your necessities, to nourish your souls with his holy sacraments, and to place your whole reliance on the merits of his death, and passion. This is clean religion : this is knowing Jesus : this is simple and sincere piety : nothing is firm and solid but what is built on this foundation. Reflect, therefore, dear Christians, that the principle homage which Jesus re- quires of you is, that you be like unto him, and that his life be the model of yours : and be assured that, if you K5
202 Sunday before the Epiphany.
be thus conformable to his likeness in this life, you will be of the number of those who are to be partakers of his glory in the next.
£03
THE EPIPHANY.
We, have seen his star in the East, and are come to adore him. — Matt. ii. 2.
T*HE light of divine truth, which was prefigured by the illustrious appearance of the star of Jacob, is alone worthy of the attention and solicitude of man. By its beams our souls are enlightened, the source of true pleasure is laid open to view, the solid basis, on which alone we can found our hopes, is disclosed, and the only lasting remedy for all our evils is revealed. This heavenly truth alone is the consolation of the innocent, and the reprover of the guilty : this alone immortalizes those who love it; en- K6
204 Epiphany.
nobles the chains of those who suffer for it ; and gives respectability to the abjection 'and poverty of those who leave all to follow it : this alone gives birth to noble sentiments, inspires true heroism, and forms characters of which the world is not worthy. •. With what solicitude, therefore, ought we to labour for the acquisition of such a treasure : with what resolu- tion and zeal ought we to manifest it to others ; and with what vigilance and circumspection ought we to guard it when possessed !
It is astonishing, however, to ob- serve the different impressions which are caused by the manifestation of this heavenly light on the minds of men. To some it is a light which enlightens, and makes the duties which it manifests agreeable and easy. To others, it is an unwelcome light, and by its appear- ance creates uneasiness and sorrow. To others, it is like a thick cloud, which
Epiphany. 205
only excites their indignation, and completes their blindness.
These various effects are exemplified in the gospel of this festival. In the three kings, we behold men, who open their hearts to receive the light' of truth with sincerity and readiness : in the priests, men who either shut their eyes, or pretend that they do not see it; and in Herod, a dreadful example of obduracy and wickedness.
The same effects are daily witnessed among Christians at the present time. Some few receive it with joy, like the wise men ; others conceal it through worldly motives ; and others perse- cute it, by their scandalous lives and irregular discourses. I will call your attention to these three descriptions' of people in this discourse ; and from their conduct I will draw a faithful sketch of the duties and obligations which the manifestation of the truth evidently points out to all Christians
Epiphany.
as essentially connected with their fu- ture happiness.
1 . The light of truth is manifested to all, even to the most profligate livers ; and points out in the clearest manner the way in which we should walk in order to fulfil the will of God. How- ever deeply some men may be en- gulphed in the abyss of sensuality and vice, their eyes are sometimes opened to the vanity of their pursuits, to the splendid hopes which they renounce,, and to the dreadful state which awaits them in the world to come. But the only effect which these rays of light produce in men of this description, is an increase of guilt; for, instead of availing themselves of the proffered blessing, they shut their eyes again, and basely continue on in the career of vice.
In the wise men we behold examples of a ready correspondence with the calls and inspirations of heaven;, — il-
Epiphany. 207
Tustrious examples indeed, and worthy to be proposed to the imitation of all Christians. Livingr as they did, at an immense distance from the chosen peo- ple of God, they probably had no other knowledge of a Redeemer to comer than what was derived from the pro- phecy of Balaam, or from the commu- nications which their forefathers re- ceived from the Israelites* during their captivity in the East. These traditions, however, may be supposed to have made little impression on the minds of men, who, by their public profession of wisdom, were habituated to despise popular and vague opinions, and to- attribute them to the credulity of the ignorant. — But, no sooner did the star of Jacob appear; no sooner did the secret inspirations of the Holy Spirit inform them that it denoted the birth of the Great Leader, than they be- lieved, and prepared to set out without delay to pay their homage to him.
203 Epiphany.
They examine not whether the appari- tion could be aecounted for in a na- tural way. No time was lost in solv- ing difficulties : none in defence of so extraordinary a project : they listened not to the scoffs and derisions which, a measure so unprecedented may rea- sonably be supposed to have drawn upon them : what might be said, or thought of them by others, was not an object for them to look to : they loved the truth : they saw the light that would conduct them to it ; and heedless of every, difficulty that at- tended them in the outset ; and re- gardless of the perils that might await them in the many unknown regions through which they might have to pass, like men whose wisdom and for- titude was superior to every encounter, they rejoiced at the sight of the happy omen, and immediately followed it.
Were mankind as ready in these times to open their eyes to the light of
Epiphany. 20$
the heavenly star, which now shines with meridian splendor over the whole universe, how different would be the state of Christianity ! But, alas ! there are multitudes of Christians — I say it to our shame — there are multitudes of Christians who live in a state of un- certainty, or rather, are addicted to passions which impel them to call in question the truths which condemn their disorders : and this, for no other purpose than to silence the voice of conscience, which incessantly reproves them for their folly and inconsistency. Sometimes they assume an air of can- dour, and with a seeming eagerness submit their doubts to the examina- tion of the learned. But their candour is counterfeit : they converse on the subject, not with the desire of being "convinced of the truth, fur of that they are already convinced, but in hopes of destroying that conviction by their sophistry. I acknowledge, in-
210 Epiphany.
deed, that real doubts on points both of morality ana1 faith may sometimes exist in the understanding ; for illu- sion will frequently put on so plausible an appearance, that no little strength of discernment is required to discover the deception. Upon those occasions it is the duty of every one to seek ad- vice from those who are established to discern between the spirit of truth and the spirit of error. But then, we must make our enquiries like the wise men : we must be simple and undisguised ; we must desire to be enlightened, and not flattered ; we must seek the truth sincerely, before we shall find it.
But unhappily, this method of en- quiry is very uncommon amongst Christians : and even amongst those who have renounced the dissipations of a worldly life, there are not a few to be found, who, I will say, are frequently strangers to it. — There is generally some favourite attachment, some im-
Epiphany. 211
perfection, which keeps possession of the heart, and which we refuse to relin- quish. ..This we describe to our direc- tor in such plausible terms, that it is manifest we seek not the truth sincere- ly, and that we should be sorry to find it. Hence originate those habitual imperfections in virtuous men, which excite the derision of worldlings, and occasion reproaches and censures to be thrown on piety itself.
Ah ! beloved Christians, if we loved the truth, our first solicitude would be to discover every weakness and imper- fection which are contradictory to its maxims ; we should love, we should re- verence the man who pointed out our defects, and sought to heal the wounds which rankled in ourhearts. David paid the highest honours to the prophet Na- than, because he reproved him for his~ crimes ; and treated him during the remainder of his life as his father and deliverer* The same should be ouc
212 Epiphany*
conduct. But, alas ! the man of God, who dares to reprove us, immediately forfeits our esteem. As long as he was silent in our regard, he was treat- ed as an enlightened, prudent, charita- ble man ; as a friend in every respect worthy of our confidence and esteem : like the precursor of our Lord in his remonstrances with the king of Gali- lee, he was listened to with pleasure as long as he did not interfere with our favourite passions ; but no sooner does he say : This is not lawful for you, than all his former perfections vanish instantly from our sight, and nothing is any longer what it was before : his zeal is now enthusiasm ; his charity, ostentation, or a vain complacency in Censuring and opposing others ; his piety, imprudence, or a cloak with which he conceals his pride; his ideas of truth, mere visionary forms, which he 'has mistaken fof realities. Thus, it too. frequently happens, that, al-
Epiphany. 213
though we are interiorly convinced of the imperfect state of our souls, we cannot endure that others should re- flect upon it. Like Saul, we require that Samuel should approve in public, what we ourselves condemn in private ; and, by a corruption of heart, which is perhaps more criminal than the weak- nesses themselves, we extinguish in the minds of others that light of truth, which we cannot extinguish in our own. — How few are actuated by the same uprightness and. sincerity as the wise men !
Again, the light of truth is often- times manifested to us without effect, because we are influenced by the im- pression which it makes on others. We see no reason why we should act dif- ferently from other men ; why we should pursue the light of the divine star with more eager steps than those around us. Sometimes, indeed, the clear light which it throws over our
Epiphany.
past irregularities fills us with dismay : — we condemn ourselves; — we tremble at the idea of futurity ; — we propose a change of life. But, no sooner is our attention engaged by the general ex- ample before us, than we resist the heavenly monitor, and ask with some surprise, whether heaven is to be pur- chased at a dearer rate by us, than it is by other people. We will not believe that the Christian is bound to shut his eyes to the corrupted ways of the world, and open them only to the du- ties and obligations of his calling. We will not believe that we shall inevitably lose our souls, if we live like the gene- rality of men ; that is, if we are con- formed to the world, and are distin- guished in nothing from the world : and the reason is,, because we will not believe that the world is already judg- ed, and that it is the great Antichrist which shall perish together with its head and members* Ah ! how many
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timid Christians are there, who dare not declare for heaven, because their change would be condemned by pub- lic example ! How many, like Aaron in the desert, dance round the golden calf, and offer incense to an idol which they detest, merely because they have not courage to stand alone in the de- fence of truth ! Senseless as we are ! we look up to men, as if men were the truth, and as if we were to seek on earth, and not in heaven, like the wise men, the rule and light which ought to be our guide.
Small, indeed, is the number of those who, having discovered the truth, keep their attention permanently fixed upon it, and are dead to the world, to its empty pleasures, and to its vain pomps. Small, indeed, is the number of those, who find no delight but in the truth, and who make it their con- solation in affliction, the end and re- compense of all their labours, and
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their principal and only solid enjoy- ment in this place of . exile. — Ho\v truly vain, puerile, and disgusting is the world, with all its momentary plea- sures, to the man who is enamoured of the truth of the eternal promises ; who is convinced, that all that is not God, is not worthy of him ; and that the earth is tire land of consolation to those only, who will perish everlast- ingly. Nothing can delight such a man, but the prospect of immortal good : nothing can fix his attention, but what will last for ever: nothing can engage his affections, but what he can enjoy eternally.
2. It is the duty, therefore, of every Christian to open his eyes to the light of truth with sincerity, submission, and joy. But this is not all : after we are enlightened, we are bound to diffuse the light abroad for the benefit of our fellow-creatures. And so obligatory is this duty, that, if our neighbour be
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confirmed in his bad habits either by our silence, or by our mean adulations, we become partakers of his sins, and shall be responsible for them before the tribunal of the Great Judge. An instance of such criminal behaviour is recorded for our instruction in this day's gospel. The priests and doctors were fully acquainted with the circum- stances foretold by the prophets con- cerning the Messiah : and therefore, Avhen consulted by Herod, they were bound to return an answer expressive of the whole truth. But what was their reply ? They simply point out the place assigned for his birth, and con- ceal every other circumstance. They neither proclaim the happy tidings to the people, nor invite them by their own example to pay their homage to the new-born King. Restrained by their criminal timidity, they detain the truth of God in injustice, to their own condemnation.
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2 1 8 Epiphany.
The obligation of publishing the truth is imposed on all Christians* But, alas ! by whom is it fulfilled? We imagine that no defence is required from us, when the children of error espouse the cause of the world in our presence ; when they justify its max- ims and abuses : when they arraign the severity of -the gospel precepts ; blas- pheme what they do not understand ; and assume the office , of judges over that law, by which they themselves will hereafter be judged. But I here so- lemnly declare, that to be silent on those occasions, is to take part with the enemies of truth. For, to what purpose has God enlightened us ? Was it exclusively for our own individual salvation? Far from it: his views were of much wider extent. He enlighten- ed us, in order that our words and ex- ample should correct, or at least, re- prove the irregularities of our relations, friends, masters, servants, and neigh-
Epiphany. 219
bours. The blessings which he has bestowed on us, were intended to re- dound to the benefit of the country to which we belong, and to the age in which we live. He never raises up a vessel of election, without having in view the salvation or condemnation of many. He made us lights, for the ex- press purpose that we should shine in the midst of the surrounding darkness ; that we should perpetuate the know- ledge of his truths among mankind, and give testimony to the wisdom and justice of his law, in opposition to the prejudices and vain thoughts of a pro- fane world.
I acknowledge, indeed, that there is a time for silence, as well as a time for speaking, and that there are limits, be- yond which the efforts of zeal would be imprudence. But I am shocked at the idea, that men who know and serve God, should be afraid of espousing the cause of truth, when they hear the L2
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maxims of religion vilified, the good name of their neighbours injured, and the most criminal abuses of the world maintained and justified. I am shock- ed at the idea, that the world should have its declared partisans, and that no one should dare to proclaim himself the partisan of Jesus. — Ah ! the truly just man is far exalted above every worldly consideration : his eye is fixed on heaven alone : the approbation of God is his only ambition : he fears no- thing but remorse of conscience: he has respect for nothing but justice and truth : he was placed on earth in order to give testimony to the truth, and to that he will give testimony in the face of the whole, world. The presence alone of the truly just man is capable of imposing silence on the most embit tered enemies of piety : his venerable appearance compels them to respect the broad seal of truth, which is stamped on his forehead ; to stand in awe of
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his dignified intrepidity; and to pay ho- mage, at least by their silence and confu- sion, to that virtue which they refuse to follow. The Israelites, awed and con- found in this manner in the midst of their profane dances and rejoicings round the golden calf, instantly ceased at the appearance of Moses descending from the mountain, armed only with the terrors of the law of the Lord, and of his eternal truths. — Take courage, then, my beloved ; espouse boldly the cause of God, and surfer no species of irreligion to reign triumphant in your presence.
3. It was my design to call your at- tention to the conduct of the impious Herod after the departure of the wise men, and to prove to you at large that the same spirit of persecution, with which he was actuated on that occasion, is entertained by an infinite number 'of Christians at the present time; but on this head I shall make only one reflection.
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The spirit of persecution, to which I allude, is not of persecution by the sword, for that spirit is unknown amongst Christian brethren, but of per- secutions by scandal ; and of this kind the persecutions are widely extended, and destructive indeed. It is not im- probable but that you yourselves may come under this class of persecutors, although you have not thrown off the reins of morality, nor given yourselves up to a reprobate sense. The scandal which is given by the declared advo cate of vice, is undoubtedly great; but the scandal which is given by the imperfect follower of the gospel, is fre- quently more pernicious in its effects. If, therefore, you fulfil your duties with exterior marks of tepidity, — if you attempt to associate the wofkl with Jesus Christ, — if you pretend to a life of piety, and at the same time follow the maxims of worldlings, you are per- secutors of the truth : because, by your
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example, you confirm the calumnies which are invented against the truly virtuous, and cause piety itself to be blasphemed by sinners ; — you throw a shade over the beauties of truth ; — you make it appear disgusting to those who are disposed to embrace it ; — and you encourage the impenitence of those who are ready to seize the first pretext for deferring their conversion. In this nation, particularly, surrounded as you are by men who are separated from the church and temple of the Lord, you cause the words of the prophet Jeremy to be again accomplished : the un- faithful Israel hath justified her soul in comparison of the treacherous Juda> Jer. iii. 1 1. The unfaithful Israel, that is, your unbelieving neighbours, beholding in you, the inheritors of his promises, the same thirst after gold, the same love of the world* the same vanities and follies as in themselves, turn away from your religion, and con-- L4
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elude that it signifies not which, or what mode of faith they outwardly pro- fess, since the moral conduct of all is the same.
Let me, therefore, my dearly belov- ed brethren, exhort you, with the apos- tle, so to regulate your deportment in the eyes of men, that, instead of ranking you. among the workers of evil, they may be edified by the dis- play of your good works, and open their hearts to the inspirations of God, when in his mercy he shall visit them with his graces. Impose silence on the enemies of your religion, by the inno- cence of your lives : convince the world that your piety is useful for all things ; that it not only holds out the prospect of future happiness, but that it imparts peace and tranquillity of mind, the only pleasures worthy of en- joyment in this life.
Let us, therefore, give glory to the truth ; and for this purpose, let us rer
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ceive it with joy, like the wise men, the instant it is manifested to us : let us not detain it in injustice, like the priests, when it is our duty to discover it to others ; and let us not persecute it, like Herod, by the imperfections and irregularities of our lives. Then, af- ter having walked in its light during the time of our mortal pilgrimage, we shall be all hereafter sanctified together in truth, and consummated in charity.
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FIRST SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY.
ON THE HOMAGE WHICH IS PAID TO VIHTUE BY THEWORLP.
/ beseech you therefore brethren, by 'the mercy of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing to God, your reasonable service ; and be not conformed to this world. . » . Rom. xii. 1, 2.
HAPPY should I be, beloved Christians, could I convince you that the service which God requires of you, is reasonable ; and that not to be conformed to this world is the only means of attaining true honour and glory in the estimation both of God and man. But by what argu- ments can this be effected? The greater number of Christians are deterred from
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the public profession of piety by the fear of what the world will say. The greater number of Christians are con- formed to this world in order to avoid its censures and ridicule. How then shall I work an entire change in your sentiments ; and convince you that virtue is applauded by the world ; and that the just man has more to fear from its adulatory homage, and veneration, than from its derision and contempt ? — Oh, had I the abilities of St. Paul, in, what glowing colours would I exhibit before your eyes the reasonableness of this service ! in what words would I describe the happy liberty, and peace of mind M'hich attend the practice of virtue ! how clearly would I expose the futility of those pretexts which you alledge in justification of your confor- mity with the world ! and how satis factorily would I prove, that every species of true honour, esteem, admira- tion, and applause amona; men would L6
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attend your resolution, and exalt you far above the level, which you at pre- sent occupy among the followers of the world !
It is a fact, my beloved, that 'the world, averse as it is to the practice of virtue itself, has a respect for virtue in others: it envies the happiness of the just : it pays even public homage to their piety : and although its censures are sometimes loud, and contemptuous, they are never aimed at virtue itself, but at the weaknesses, and failings of , its imperfect followers.
I readily allow that the scriptures declare that persecutions shall be the portion of all who live piously in Jesus Christ, (2 Tim. ii. 12.) ; and therefore, God forbid that, by describing the honours which attend the virtuous on earth, I should pretend to call in ques- tion the words of truth ; or by denying that virtue is characterized by suffer- ings, deprive the just man of one of
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the most persuasive motives to patient endurance under the many trials to which his piety is exposed. But the per- secutions, which he experiences from the world, are not necessarily confined,, says St. Augustin, to contempt and de- rision. They more frequently consist in the display of false charms, which endanger his innocence : they more frequently consist in flattering induce- ments, and solicitations to vice : they more frequently consist in scandals authorized by custom, which are cal- culated either to weaken h,is piety, or at least to embitter his days with sor- row. Various, therefore, are the spe- cies of persecutions ; reproaches, and contempt are neither the most danger- ous nor the most common.
Although the world is the declared enemy of Jesus Christ: although in practice it knows not God : although it calls good evil, and evil good; nevertheless, worldly as it is, it enter-
230 First Sunday
tains, a respect for virtue, it forms the highest opinion of the hap- piness of the just man, flies to his society for refuge and consolation in its distress, and frequently pays public homage to him.
1. It must not be supposed that error and corruption have so far pre- vailed over the earth as to have effaced from the minds of men the vestiges of moral rectitude, and extinguished the spark of virtue. The most abandoned sinner is sometimes obliged to listen to the voice of reason and religion, which, in the interior of his soul, es- pouses the cause of truth, and forces him to respect what he has not the resolution to embrace. The counte- nance of the just man appears decked with heavenly charms, and extorts se- cret homage from the most flagitious : he resembles the ark of the Lord, the abode of his glory, which even among
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the Philistins retains its terrors, and its majesty.
The more the worldling is enslaved to his passions, the more does he interiorly esteem the man who has fought and con- quered them. The more rapidly he is borne down the impetuous torrent of pleasure, the more does he admire the magnanimity, and courage of the soul, which is capable of resisting its inces- sant, and, in his opinion, irresistible violence. From every shameful fall he collects an honourable testimony in favour of virtue; because, from the experience of his own weakness, he is more sensibly convinced of the strength of mind which it inspires. Hence the just man appears in his eyes infinitely more worthy of admiration, than all the great personages whom the world extols. He forms a comparison be- tween the respective merits of both, and invariably gives the palm to the virtu- ous. He remarks that good fortune, or
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even bold temerity may form conque- rors ; that birth, or chance may bestow crowns and sceptres ; that men who are called great, may be indebted for that proud appellation, either to the pecu- liar circumstances of the age in which they lived, or to the caprice and adula- tions of the people ; that honours, and dignities are not always the fruit of real merit: in a word, that genius, cultivated with labour and perseverance, may at- tain every degree of glory which the world can bestow : and moreover he re- marks, that in all these various acquire- ments the soul inherited from nature the first dispositions, and, as it were, the out- lines of that glory which was the object of her ambition, and which she at- tained. On the other hand, he reflects that piety is a merit to which the just man is entitled independently of every living creature ; a merit pure and una- dulterated ; a merit, which is acquired by opposing the dispositions of nature,
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and in the pursuit of wh%ich, he must necessarily encounter continual ob- stacles and repugnances in. his own breast. — In this manner, even vice con- tributes to honour virtue, and dark- ness gives testimony to the light.
The esteem of the world, moreover, -is not confined to silent admiration : it raises its voice ; it publicly proclaims that the just man is happy ; it envies his lot," and declares that he has chosen the betteV part. Ah ! my friends, you perhaps have imagined that sinners, the slaves of their debauched inclinations, were incessantly inebriated with the fumes of sensuality, and worldly enjoy- ments ' you perhaps have thought that the illusion continued without interrup- tion, and that their whole life was a plea- sant dream. But the case is far other- wise. For, even in the midst of their false pleasures, they secretly acknowledge that the happiness of the just man is far superior to their own ; they com-
234 First Sunday
pare the peaceful serenity of his con- science with the ceaseless remorse to which they are the devoted prey ; the sweet consolations which he enjoys in the paths of virtue, with the bitter ingredients which the world mixes in their cups of pleasure; the silent and undisturbed tranquillity of his re- tirement, with the continual hurry and anxiety of their hopes, and fears : his days full of good works, and devoted to the great business of salvation, with their days spent in the pursuit of plea- sure, in doing nothing to the purpose, and in which few moments can be said to be devoted either to the glory of God, or the good of their fellow crea- tures. They make this comparison, even in the midst of their debaucheries, and the effect which it produces on their minds is painful indeed : it forces repeated sighs from their bosom ; it dis- plays before their eyes the melancholy state of their own soul, £nd exposes in
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the most engaging charms the happy lot of the just. — Why then do you he- sitate to declare yourselves the servants of Jesus Christ in the presence of sin- ners ?. Be not afraid : they will wish to resemble you, the instant you have ceased to resemble them.
Perhaps you have frequently sought after the applause of men, and with that view, have exhibited before them the full display of your talents. But have you ever succeeded in the at- tempt? No: the world looks down, I will not say with indifference, but with contempt and scorn on the person who avowedly courts its approbation and smiles. One beautiful woman will not flatter another; one vain man will not extol another. The world is not fond of bestowing praise on its own : it points out the weaknesses, and defects, and not the good qualities of its a- dorers ; it seeks to depress, and not to exalt its votaries. But, if you embrace
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a life of virtue, the world no longer considers you as its own, and, therefore, it will not seek to lessen your reputa- tion ; or rather it will not only allow you the highest degree of merit to which your piety is entitled, but will likewise extol, and magnify every other good quality which it had hitherto unjustly called in question. Depend upon it, therefore, that the M'orld will not es- teem the qualities on which you now pride yourselves, until you yourselves despise them for the love of Jesus.
Do this, and the world will soon ex- claim : "how admirable it is to see a person of his age, or in his circum- stances, renounce with a resolute mind the vanities, and follies of a sinful life." The minister of God indeed will not flatter you so far as to say that your merit will be equal to the applause which you will receive. For, were kings to throw their crowns and scep- tres at thy feet, O God ! what would
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they renounce ? Agreeable dreams, and real anxieties. What would they sacrifice ? Nothing, when compared with the treasures with which Thou enrichest the faithful soul, and the glory which he will acquire in serv- ing Thee. The world, however, in- competent as it is to judge of spiritual things, will admire, and extol the merit of this your sacrifice : and so far from having reason to dread its censures, you will be confused by its unmerited applause; you will exclaim against their adulations ; you will treat them as in- jurious to the honour of God ; and humbled into the dust at the sight of your own nothingness, of which you will then be more sensibly convinced, you will say : " what have I renounced, my God, for which Thou hast not re- paid me a hundred fold !"
Great and glorious, indeed, is this homage which the world pays to piety. But this is not all; it not only
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applauds, and envies the choice of the just man, but in his fidelity and recti- tude alone does it seek, and find con- solation. For the truth of this asser- tion I will appeal to your own expe- rience. By whom were you comforted and supported in your afflictions, and distress, on those trying occasions, when you were either deserted by your former companions, or when their society was become insupportable? Was it not by the faithful, and pious friend ? Was it not he, says St. Augustin, who poured oil on your wounds, who instilled into your troubled minds the soothing balm of resignation to the decrees of heaven, who alleviated your sorrows, and, by beins: admitted into the secret recesses
O
of your heart, removed the heavy load by which it was oppressed ? Have you not experienced that the man of virtue alone can share in the disgraces of a friend without coolness, and rejoice in his prosperity without envy?
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Yes, my beloved, the afflicted world- ling seeks consolation in the society of the just. There he breathes that air of candour, sincerity, and truth which he enjoys not in the world. Into their bosoms he pours forth the secret emo- tions of his heart, the inmost recesses of his soul. In their presence he be- holds the folly of indulging melancholy and uneasiness on account of the vicis- situdes of life, and candidly acknow- ledges that there is nothing in the world but vanity, and affliction of spirit. With them he is not restrained by the thought that perhaps he is confiding his secrets to a false friend. With them his heart dilates ; he enjoys peace ; he is free from suspicion, and mistrust; and he tastes the ineffable pleasure of displaying his whole soul without fear.
In this source the public honours, which the world pays to virtue, may be said peculiarly to originate. Fre- quently have we seen men of obscure
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extraction, but ennobled by the gifts of grace, acquire greater esteem, and more honourable distinctions, than birth and dignity ever obtained. Ser- vants of God, of the meanest origin according to the world, have been the arbiters of princes, and their people, and have, by the mere reputation of their sanctity, been received with great- er homage and veneration than the most haughty vanity ever dared to aspire to. Anthony the hermit, a man who enjoyed no worldly distinction amongst his countrymen, was renowned through the whole universe; and Emperors themselves rejoiced more at receiving a letter from the man of God, than in wearing the diadem. Jehu, king of Israel, seated the holy man Jonadab in his own chariot at a pompous so- lemnity ; and royal majesty did not blush to behold on his right hand the simplicity of a prophet. Daniel, one of the children of captivity, received
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in the palace even of an infidel king, and in a nation where he was a slave, the honours of the purple robe and golden collar, which were the highest honours in the state. The most licen- tious court of Palestine publicly vene- rated the austerity of John the Bap- tist ; and Herod endured with respect the bold reproofs of the precursor, un- til his weakness abandoned him to the lascivious cruelty of his adulterous consort. O man ! why are you asham- ed of piety? Piety alone, says the Spirit of God, will make you illustri- ous among the people, cause you to be honoured by the wise and the ancients, give you respectability even in the presence of kings, and. what is more, will be the means of your attaining to life eternal, and of leaving behind you u renown that will last for ages to come, fVisd.vm. TO, 11, 13.
Be careful only that your piety be not stained with any weakness of hu*
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man nature, and that the remnants of your former bad dispositions, passions, and defects, be entirely subdued : for these in general are the causes of the derisions and censures of the world, Do this, and then you will have no- thing more to fear, than lest your first step towards a reformation of life should receive the applause which is due only to perfect repentance ; lest the world should attempt to crown you before you have fought, and conquered ; lest the misguided judgment of the public should throw a veil over the remnants of your former defects, and lest, by the repeated approbations bestowed on your feeble commencement in piety, you should be lulled into a false secu- rity, and should forget your past crimes ; — crimes, which perhaps a whole life spent in weeping and pe- nance would be inadequate to atone for. Here is your danger. Tremble, then, I say ; for perhaps this undeserved
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esteem of men may be a judgment of <fod upon you, awarding this empty Tecompense in consideration of some natural virtues that you possess, and reserving for hereafter the punishment which your concealed pride has deserv- ed. The number of false penitents, who thus receive their reward in this life, is probably very great : and there- fore, the greatest danger which threat- ens a Christian on his first entrance on a life of piety, is the too hasty applause of the world : for we are naturally in* clined to over-rate our own exertions, and if the public should over-rate them likewise, we should be too ready to conclude that we had finished our career before we had completed the first step ; and thus the world, which first seduced us by diminishing in our eyes the enormity of sin, would se- duce us again by exaggerating our virtues.
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Be therefore on your guard; pay no attention to man, or to the opini- on of man, but perform all your ac- tions as if God was your only witness ; submit your cause to his decision, for he alone is just and true ; and be re- signed to the consequences which may result from the impression which your change may make on the world. If it be his will that your conduct should meet with the approbation and praise of men, he will, in the midst of these vain acclamations, infuse into your souls a more perfect knowledge of your weakness and dependence. Paul, at the time that a whole city, captivat- ed with the lustre of his piety, pro- claimed him a god, and were preparing their sacrifices ; Paul, at the time that he was received by the faithful as an angel of the Most High ; Paul, I say, in the midst of these accumulated ho- nours, was humbled by the shameful sting of Satan : God, who alone was
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the author of his exaltation, stampt upon his heart the humiliating evi- dence of his own weakness, lest he should attempt to exalt himself. But if, on the contrary, it be his will that derisions and censure be the portion of your virtue, he will amply compensate for these exterior trials by secret con- solations ; and he will oppose an insur- mountable barrier to the combinations and efforts of a profane world. We are despised, said the Apostle, we are trodden under foot dike dirt, but we are not dejected ; we are treated as the outcast of the world, the offscouring of all even until now ; but we rejoice - in these tribulations, because we enjoy the ineffable consolations of Jesus, who never fails to administer the sweet balm of heavenly delights to his servants when they are suffering for his name.
Throw yourselves, therefore, into the arms of his love, and be not solicitous for the consequences. Begin at least M3
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to s^rve him. Break asunder the chains,, shake of the yoke, which have so long: held you in bondage. Dare to despise the judgment of a world, the fallacy of whose pleasures you have experi- enced : and no longer insult the ma- jesty of God, by fearing him less than manl Listen to the dictates of rea- son, and attribute not too great im- portance to the opinion of creatures; or rather, be not led away by the sup- position that piety is always ridiculed and despised.
Do thou, O God, complete the work thou hast begun. Enlighten and sup- port the steps, give strength to the timid arid wavering resolutions of these thy servants, on their first entrance through the narrow gate. Convince them that thy judgments alone are to be feared ; that the derisions and scoffs of the world add a new lustre and increased merit to the actions which are agreeable to thy divine Majesty;
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and that the works of piety, which thy grace has enabled them to perform, can receive no competent reward, unless, thou bestowest thyself.
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SECOND SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY.
ON WORKS OF CHARITY TO OUR NEIGHBOUR,
Loving, one another with brotherly love . . . communicating to the neces- sities of the saints ; pursuing hospita- lity. .... Rom. xii. 10, 13.
ALTHOUGH the obli- gation of communicating to the neces- sities of our neighbours is so frequent- ly inculcated in holy writ, and so uni- versally known and acknowledged by Christians of every denomination, ne- vertheless, its extent is so little under- stood, and the means of making our charities subservient to salvation are so little attended to, that it is the dirty of
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the pastor to expose from time to time,, before the eyes of the faithful, the pre- cise maxims of the gospel on that sub- ject. Many there are with revenues
more than ample to supply the utmost wants of nature, whose unfeeling or co- vetous dispositions induce them to be- lieve that the precept is fulfilled to the extent required, by bestowing a few superfluities and a casual trifle on the poor. To these it is necessary to< re- peat the dreadful anathemas pronounc- ed by the spirit of God agailist those who refuse to administer assistance and relief to their distressed fellow-mem- bers in proportion to their means. Others there are, who, because their worldly substance, is small, and barely sufficient for the supply of their own necessities, imagine that they are totally exempted from the obligation of cha- rity^ To these it is necessary to state,, that charity 'has many branches, and that as much, in proportion, to their
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means, is required from the poor as from; the rich.
It is, moreover, incumbent on the pastor, not only to enlarge from time to time on the above subjects, but to display the motives on which charity ought to be founded. The merit of charity consists, not in the gift alone, but in the intention and disposition of the giver. The man who is charitable through pride, vain-glory, or through the mere natural sentiments of compas- sion, will be rejected by the Judge at' the last day with these words : Amen, thou hast received thy reward. The man who loves his neighbour, and relieves his distresses, and at the same time continues obstinate in his wicked ways, will acquire no title to an eternal recompense. Be atten- tive, whilst I enlarge on these mani- fold parts of charity.
1. It is an established maxim of re- ligion, that every Christian is charged
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with the care of his brother in afflic- tion, and that the law, hy command- ing us to love him, imposes the obliga- tion of succouring and relieving him in distress. This is a necessary deduc- tion : for love cannot exist without a feeling and sympathy for the object beloved, nor consequently without en- deavouring to remove the cause of his sufferings. The precept, therefore, of loving our neighbour^ is something more than a command to refrain from injuring him either in his property, re- putation; or person ; it enforces the duty of protecting him against the ma- levolence of others, and of parting even with what is our own when his necessi- ties require it: — it is something more than an interdiction of hatred, animo- sity, and revenge; it exacts from us the same sincerity of love towards him, as we feel for ourselves.
Works of charity, therefore, are not merely recommended as tending to« ' M 6
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greater perfection, but they are imposed as an indispensable lawou every Chris- tian By the grace which united us in bap- tism to the assembly of the saints, we were all made members of the same bo-*, dy, and children of the same Father, We then contracted an intimate and sacred connection with every individual of the faithful. All distinctions between no- ble and peasant, rich and poor, were then done away. From that time the distresses and wants of others are be- come our own : when a fellow-member suffers, we are bound to suffer with him ; nor can \ve refuse him our atten- tion, our solicitude, and our services, "without renouncing the sacred band by which we are all united together under Jesus Christ, and which is the only foundation of our hopes, and our only pledge of eternal glory. The first Christians possessed ' every thing in common; because, from the time of their conversion, they formed but one
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heart and one soul. They sold all they had, and deposited the amount in the hands of the apostles, because they deemed it useless to be the legal owners of a property which was become the property of their brethren, and of which necessity alone could regulate the expenditure for their own use.
This duty of charity increases in pro- portion to the wealth of the possessor. The truth of this position I will demon- strate in a few words. — Prosperity, and abundance of earthly possessions, can- not make void the obligation of prac- tising the frugality, the simplicity, and the self-denial enjoined by the gospel. In vainliave we amassed, like the Is- raelites, more manna than our bre- thren, we can apply no more to our own, use than what is prescribed by the law : he that had much had nothing
o
over, 2 Cor. viii. 15. This will not admit of doubt ; unless it can be prov- ed that Jesus forbad luxury, dissipa-
ST54- Second Sunday
tion, and pleasures to the poor and wretched only, the poverty of whose state would have rendered such a pro- hibition nugatory.
If, therefore, it be contrary to the> rules of the gospel to devote wealth to the gratifying of the sensual appetite; if the rich man be obliged to carry his cross, to seek not his consolation in this world, and to deny himself conti- nually, in the same manner as the poor man, to what purpose, I ask, has Pro- vidence heaped so large a portion of the goods of the earth on a few indivi- duals ? Was it that they might cherish their disorderly passions ? But the scriptures declare, that we are no longer indebted to the flesh, to live>according to the flesh. — Was it that they might support the pride of rank and birth ? By no means : for our lives ought to be hidden with. Christ in God. — Was it that their days might flow on in tran- quillity and indolence ? Certainly, not:
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for if we do not mourn ; if we do not suffer and fight, we shall perish. — Was it in order to attach them more to the •world ? Far from it : for the Christian is not a citizen of this world, but of the world to come. •— Was it that they might feast sumptuously every day ? No : for the rich, man in the gospel was condemned on that very account : and who shall walk in his footsteps and be favoured with a milder sentence ? Flesh and blood shall not possess the kingdom of heaven: if you do not pe- nance, you shall perish. — Was it that they might amass riches, and extend their possessions ? Ah ! what will it profit them, if they gain the whole world, and lose their own souls. — Enumerate all the Advantages, accord- ing to the world, which prosperity af- fords, and you will find that almost all are in opposition to the law of God-.
What, therefore, were the designs of God iu. heaping riches on individuals ?
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It was, that they might be the minis- ters of his Providence to those who suffer : it was that certain depositaries, secure alike from violence and fraud,, might be provided for the widow and the orphan, in order that strength and life might be imparted to every mem- ber of the body, and that none might be in danger of perishing through want. These were the designs of Pro- vidence ; and these designs must be fulfilled : for to him who knoweth to do- good, says St. James, and doth it not9 it is sin. Wo to you rich . . . your gold and silver is cankered, and the rust of them shall be for a testimony against you, and shall eat your Jlesh like fire.. You, have stored up to yourselves wrath against the day of wrath, James v.
The precept of charity, therefore, is obligatory, in the first place, on the more wealthy members of the commu- nity, and this in proportion to their means. The obligation, however, is not
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confined solely to them : the precept is general, and extends to all : every member is required to succour his fel- low-member in distress. I will eluci- date this point by observing, that cha- rity does not exclusively consist in dis- tributing alms, as the scriptures abun- dantly testify : but is divided into se- veral branches, many of which may be performed as well by the lower as by the higher classes of society. To visit the sick, to comfort the afflicted, to pray for all, are acts of charity, from the performance of which no one is de- barred, and from the obligation of which no one can be exempted. — You> therefore, amongst my present audito- ry, whose poverty will allow you only to bestow a little, let me exhort you to bestow that little willingly, like the poor widow in the gospel, Luke xxi. 2. The Lord will repay you. In addition to this, apply sedulously to the other branches of charity which are within.
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your power ; — visit the sick, — comfort the afflicted, — fly to the bedside of your suffering fellow-member,' — cheer his desponding spirits, and reconcile him to chastisements which are inflict- ed by a merciful God. In order to form a just estimate of these works of charity, suppose for a moment that you yourselves are laid on the bed of sick- ness, languishing under the pains of a mortal disease, and that the Christian friend enters your apartment of sor- row ; pours oil on your wounds ; re- spects your loathsome flesh as the tem- ple of the Holy Ghost ; venerates you as the image of God ; loves you as a brother — as a fellow-member — as a co- heir of eternal bliss ; calms your impa- tience by the maxims of faith ; and sub- mits to every inconvenience, in order either to mitigate your sufferings, or promote your salvation. • Would he not impart the most soothing consola- tion to your mind ? Ah ! you woukk
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call this charity indeed. You would lift up your hands to heaven, and ex- claim : " Lord, thou art rich in mercy: thou wilt never abandon them that put their trust in thee : thy eye is ever at- tentive to the necessities of thy crea- tures, and thou wilt not suffer them to be afflicted without consolation, or above their strength." This, perhaps, is the most eminent branch of charity, and is in the power of every one to perform. Let me exhort you, there- fore, to be attentive to it, and consider it as a duty which you owe to your fellow-members.
I will now proceed to the motives by which you ought to be actuated, in or- der to be entitled to the reward which is prepared for the charitable Chris- tian.
2. Exterior works of piety Have no merit in the sight of God, except they tend to the sanctification of the inward man; for the kingdom of God is with-
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in us, and the establishment of that kingdom is promoted only by works which contribute to the extinction of vice, and to the complete subjugation of the passions. — According- to this- maxim of religion, the works of cha- rity, namely, the relieving our brethren by almsdeeds, the consoling, visiting, or attending them in their afflictions, are the promoters of piety, but they are not piety itself: they are the duties of a Christian, but they form not the whole of his character. — Charity, in order to be entitled to an eternal reward, must contribute to the increase and pu- rification of our virtue ; it must be the daily remedy for our imperfections, and every individual act must tend to the right ordering of some one or other of our passions. For this pur- ( pose we must look into the state of our souls, and examine, by the light of grace, the nature and the extent of our
O '
depraved inclinations. This done> we
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must select those works of mercy which, by their opposite tendency, are calculated to effect our deliverance from their odious tyranny. — For in- stance, if our affections are centered in the world and its vanities, we must give the preference to those works which more frequently call us away from the noise and hurry of the world, and engage us in prayer, silence, and retirement. — If our disposition is pas- sive and indolent, if we have not suffi- cient courage to stimulate ourselves to works of self-denial, and we lead a more sensual and effeminate life than what is usually led in the world, although per- haps disgust or other motives have in- duced us to live in retirement : ah ! then the more laborious, the more painful works of mercy, attendance on the more disgusting, the more wretched objects of misery ought to be our choice. — If in the duties of religion we seek to distinguish ourselves from
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mothers, and court the applause of the world, we must then prefer the more obscure works of mercy, and those in particular which are likely to expose us to the derisions of the unwise. — If our temper is hasty and vehement, and we are irritated and ruffled by every trifling contradiction or untoward event, then we must choose the works which require mildness, and patience in the performance, and be ready to en- dure with calmness the complaints, the discontents, the ingratitude, and even the abuse of those whom we relieve. — In a word, it must be our object to se- lect the works which will the most ef- fectually habituate us to the practice of those virtues to which we are stran- gers.
This, my beloved friends, is an im- portant subject for your consideration. Exterior works, as I said above, have no merit except they promote our sane-
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tification : and oursanctification is not promoted but by the correction of our vices. The new man is formed in our souls in proportion only as the old man, the man of sin, is Sestroyed. Those works only augment the life of the spi- rit, which mortify the inclinations of the flesh: those works only give additional strength to the inspirations of grace, which weaken our unlawful pro- pensities. In the life of a Christian, almost every action ought to be a sa- crifice ; for the Christian lives by faith, and every . action that is performed through motives of faith, must, of its own nature, be painful to flesh and blood, because it is necessarilyin opposi- tion to the dictates of the sensual man.
In this manner works of mercy
ought to be made the daily sacrifice of the faithful Christian : the apostle distinguishes them by that name ; for by such sacrifices, says he, exhort-
<264 Second Sunday
ing the faithful to the pious offices of charity, by such sacrifices, God's fa- vour is obtained, Heb. xiii. 16.
\Ve violate this maxim of religion two different ways. In the first place, having received from nature a tender and feeling heart, which is easily af- fected at the sight of others woes, we are charitable merely through senti- ments of human compassion ; on some occasions we are charitable through gratitude ; on others, through friend- ship ; and on all, through motives which are agreeable to our taste and inclination.
I readily allow, that the man who is charitable through these motives, ful- fils a moral and social duty ; and there- fore, I pretend not to say, either that these happy dispositions ought to be resisted, or that no merit is acquired merely because they are in unison with our natural feelings. No, my
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beloved brethren ; it is the duty of re- ligion to make the gifts of nature sub- servient to grace. These natural dis- positions to virtue are gifts of the Crea- tor, which, according to the designs of his Providence, ought to be made the first foundations of our spiritual edifice. But we must reflect that piety is not confined within the limits of na- ture : that it extends far beyond them ; and that, if we stop at these bounda- ries, we have done nothing, we are only at the entrance of the narrow gate, where the path is rugged, and strewed with thorns. Ah ! however happy our dispositions may be, we shall never advance far, if we only comply with their dictates, without any reference to the conquering of our vices and passi- ons. This, therefore, is the rule which we ought to bear in mind, namely, that the exterior works of pietyv which leave us as sensual, as unmortified, as VOL. i. N
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imperfect as we were before, have only the appearance, and not the substance of the virtue of chanty.
In the second place, this maxim is violated in a more culpable manner. — There are many who lead a worldly, sensual, and profane life, and rely with unsuspecting security on their works of mercy, and on the abundance of their alms. Like the daughters of Tyre, they expect to appease the wrath of the great King by mingling charity with their worldly pleasures. They imagine that charity covers all ; that prayer, retirement, self-denial, and the other most indispensable maxims of a Christian life may be neglected, and their sins atoned for by largesses to the poor. But, my God ! how light would then be thy cross ! how favour- ,able to riches and sensuality would then be thy doctrine ! and how very open and easy the path that leads to life ! Ah ! the Lord demands not our
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gold alone, but our hearts. Charity, it is true, contributes to the expiation of the sins of which we repent ; but it does not justify the passions which we continue to indulge : it is the fruit of piety ; but it is not the licence for vice. My God ! give me a compassion- ate and tender heart, but suffer not my eyes to be shut to my multiplied trans- gressions. Infuse the holy spirit of charity into my breast, but suffer not the artful delusions of Satan to lead me into that fatal error, that alms exempt from penance, lest my good works con- tribute more to my condemnation, than to the accumulation of a never- failing treasure in heaven.
Moreover, our title to a reward here- after is forfeited, as often as we are not actuated in the distribution of our cha- rities by a proper intention. On this subject, however, I shall only say, that we must have no ostentatious views, but be more desirous that our N2
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charities should be concealed from the eyes of the public, than that they should be the subjects of admiration and applause: we must be willing that even our left hand be ignorant of what our right hand doeth. The love of God, and the desire of accomplishing his blessed will alone must be our mo- tive : we must respect a brother in dis- tress, as being a fellow-member of the same body ; and we must relieve him with the same love and good will, as if Jesus Christ in person pleaded his cause before us.
Good God ! exclaims St. Augustin, how many good works, on which we confidently rely here below, will be re- jected when the Lord Jesus shall come to judge justice ! how many fruits of charity, with which we expect to be enriched for eternity, will be found corroded by the worm of pride and vainglory! how little will be left in our hands, after the Judge has sepa-
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rated the good from the bad, the works of nature from the works of grace ! and how will our supposed treasure melt away, when he shall allot an eternal re- ward to those only which were per- formed through pure motives of love, and with the sole desire of pleasing Him!
Let us meditate on these truths, my heloved brethren, whilst we have time. This is our day: -let us work before the night overtakes us. The condi- tions which I have described are nu- merous, I allow: but they are not calculated to deter you from exerting your whole strength in the cause of God and of your souls : on the contra- ry, they are consoling — they are eiv- couraging — they are easy. I will enu- merate them one by one, and appeal to your own decision for the truth of what I assert. — In the first place, I in- formed you that the exercise of charity is a duty ; that it is imposed on you, N3
absolute and indispensable command. What more persuasive argument than this could I have employed, in order to make it appear amiable in your eyes ? Will its charms be diminished, because it is imposed as a duty by Him who made you ? Will it be less pleasing to the disciple, because it is more pleasing to the master ? — Secondly, I declafd that these works of mercy ought to be made the daily sacrifices for the faults which you daily commit. My friends, what could be more consoling than to be informed of a, new source of merit in these pious duties ? to be directed to hidden treasures, which the greater number of Christians never expected to discover in them ? What could be more desirable, than to learn that you may acquire, by the means of charity, every virtue which you have not hitherto possessed : that you may apply it as a remedy to all your evils ; that you
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may obtain by its means patience, pu- rity, mildness, love of prayer, and, if you please, love even of retirement; and that in this single duty of re- ligion, you may reap the fruits of all
the rest ? Lastly, I declared that
your acts of charity must be performed as if God alone were your witness ; and that the applauses and censures of men must be totally disregarded. Is this declaration calculated to diminish the charitable dispositions of your breasts ? What are all mankind, when compared with God, that the faithful soul should be influenced by them ? Shall the es- teem of a world, which she despises, which she has renounced, appear in her eyes a sufficient reward for actions which will be crowned with eternal glory ? Is there danger of weakening her charity, if I inform her that the whole world is not worthy of her, that God alone deserves to be the witness of actions which he alone can reward ? N4
272 Second Sunday after Epiphany.
and that, in order to secure their just recompense, it is necessary that she seek no other glory than that which will never end ?
No, my dearly beloved, the spirit of the law does not operate against the fulfilling of the law. On the contrary, the more we advance in piety, the more will our charity increase f the more we are acquainted with the law of love, the more vehemently shall we aspire after its perfection in our souls. Error is unmasked, in proportion as it is examined : but truth appears in greater splendor, the clearer it is seen. Thus, when we behold it in its true colours hereafter, we shall love it with fervour, with sincerity, and with con- stancy..
273
THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
ON A FUTURE STATE. -^
The children of the kingdom shall be cast" out info the exterior darkness ; there shall be weeping, and gnashing of teeth. * .... Matt. viii. 12.
THIS, dear Chris- tians, is the term of all the desires, hopes, counsels, and enterprises of the wicked. Here shall end the vain re- flections of the wise,, the doubts and incertitude of unbelievers, the mighty projects of conquerors, the monuments of human glory, the solicitudes of ambition, the distinctions of talents, and the pride of man. This life, there-
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fore, is a fleeting moment, the prelude only of an eternal futurity. Exterior darkness, or inaccessible light, will be the apportioned lot of all.
Unhappily, a spirit of irreligion and incredulity, has, in these times, spread its baneful influence over the Christian world. The reality of a fu- ture state is called in question by ma- ny, and the evil continues to increase. It is not, indeed, surprising that disso- lute men, in order to silence the voice of conscience in the midst of their un- lawful pleasures, should endeavour to raise doubts on this subject. A mi- serable eternity is a dreadful thought : it throws a gloom over all the enjoy- ments of the world ; for which reason the devil has at all times endeavoured to efface the idea from the minds of his followers. The belief of a future state of punishments and rewards is a galling check on the passions, and therefore he is sensible that he can never succeed in
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forming hardened sinners, till he has first made them unbelievers.
In this discourse I will prove the weakness of the arguments on which infidelity is founded. I will prove that the wicked will survive their abomina- tions, and that death, which puts an end to their crimes, will not close their existence. I will in the first place prove the certainty of a future state from the pure light of reason ; and se- condly, the necessity, from the great- ness and justice of God, and the uni- versal consent of all ages and nations. Not that I suppose that any individual in this assembly is tainted with this fatal error; but my object is, to shew you the strong foundations on which your faith is built, to excite you to raise your thoughts to heaven, - the happy mansion to which you are invit- ed, and to supply you with proper ar- guments if chance should lead you into the company of unbelievers.
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1. The pretended uncertainty of a world to come is the basis on which the security of unbelievers is founded. " We know not what or where this other world is," they observe: "per- haps there is nothing beyond the grave : let us therefore enjoy the pre- sent moment, and leave to chance a futurity, which either does not exist, or which, at least, we are not permitted to explore."
If we examine the origin of this per- nicious error, we shall immediately dis- cover that interest, and passion,- and not the love of truth, was the source from which it sprung. The unbeliev- er inherited the same principles of natu- ral religion as the rest of mankind : he found written in his heart a law which .forbad violence, injustice, and perfidy: an interior monitor whispered in his soul that he should not do to others what he would not that others should do to him. Education strengthened
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these principles of nature ; he was taught to know, to love, and to serve the author of his existence : instruc- tion made him acquainted with the rules of virtue, and example excited him to follow them.
The unbeliever, therefore, at his en- trance into life adored the Supreme Beins: like the rest of men : he re-
o
spected his laws, he feared his judg- ments, he hoped for the promises. How comes it then, that he now re- jects God, that he considers hell only as a fable, futurity as a dream, the soul as a spark which is extinguished with the body ? By what means has he made this wonderful discovery ? Was it by deep and protracted meditation ? Did he assist the efforts of his own weak reason by consulting the learned and the unprejudiced ? Did he purify his heart, in order to counteract the influ- ence of his passions ? In an affair of such consequence, the greatest circum-
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spection, the most mature reflections were undoubtedly necessary.
No, he did nothing of all this. The pretended discovery owes its origin to far different causes. The truths of re- ligion began to appear doubtful, in pro- portion as his morals were corrupted : then only he wished to be convinced that man was like the beasts of the field, when he had brutalized the facul- ties of his soul : impiety gained ad- mittance by shutting every avenue to truth ; and incredulity gained his af- fections, when he perceived that it alone could deaden the stings of con- science, and enable him to give loose to the most infamous passions without restraint. By these means he acquired the sublime knowledge of infidelity ; by these great efforts he discovered a truth which had been concealed from, or, more properly, held in detestation by the rest pf men.
Yes; my beloved friends, corrup-
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tion of the heart was the source from whence this fatal error took its- rise. Shew me, if you can, a prudent, chaste, disinterested, and temperate man, who disbelieves in God, who expects not a future state, and who considers impuri- ties and abominations as the bias and sport of innocent nature. If such a man exists, he either indulges his passions in private, and is exteriorly virtuous, in or- der to give authority to his impious tenets ; or he indulged them formerly, and now, satiated with their excesses, throws himself into the arms of tempe- rance, as the only source of pure enjoy- ment. Debauchery was the first origin of infidelity ; Ms heart was corrupted before his faith was lost : self-interest induced him to believe that his soul wa's mortal : and the cause of his present moral deportment arises solely from the disgust occasioned by the reiterated gratification of the sensual appetite. Let us, however, proceed to the rea-
<280 Third Sunday
sons on which the basis of infidelity is founded. You will allow that no one should renounce a belief of such seri- ous consequence as is that of eternity, on slight and trivial grounds ; neither should any one abandon the universal opinion of mankind, the religion of all ages, unless urged to it by the evidence of truth. Now what are his reasons ? " We know not," he says, " what of where this other world is : perhaps there is nothing beyond the grave." —These are the insurmountable rea- sons which the Deist opposes to the faith of the whole universe. O man ! reflect for a moment.. A single doubt is sufficient to make you an infidel, and all the well-supported proofs of religion are insufficient to make you a believer. The only foundation of your opinion is incertitude ; and you call religion, al- though standing on the firmest basis, an imposition on the credulity of the multitude. But let us examine which.
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of the two, the infidel or the Christian, is most open to this reproach of credu- lity. The Christian's belief of a future state is founded on the authority of the scriptures ; — a book beyond contradic- tion the most deserving of credit; on the deposition of apostolic men, who have shed their blood in defence of the truth, and to whose doctrine the con- version of the most enlightened part of the world has given testimony ; — on the accomplishment of prophecies, a character of truth which impiety can- not counterfeit ; — on the tradition of all ages, of all nations, of all people. The infidel, on the other hand, gives credit to a doctrine which is supported by nothing more than a simple doubt, a mere suspicion. " Who has seen it ?" he says, "We know not where it is." Credulity, therefore, is a reproach which attaches, to the infidel alone.
But supposing that the reasons for and against the belief of a futurity
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Avere equal, nevertheless, even in this case, I say, the infidel ought to admire, and wish that the doctrine of the im- mortality of the soul were true ; a doc- trine which confers such honour on man; a doctrine which teaches him that his origin is heavenly, his hope's eternal. He ought likewise to abhor the system of infidelity, than which nothing can be more humiliating to man : a system which reduces him to a level with the brute creation, which gives him neither end, destination, nor hope ; and which confines his existence to a small num- ber of fleeting, restless, "painful days on earth. Supposing, therefore, that equal reasons existed on both sides, an ele- vated mind ought to prefer the more honourable doctrine : prudence de- mands this choice. What name, then, shall we affix on the infidel, who hav- ing trivial doubts only on his side, and beholding religion supported by au- thority, prophecy, miracles, examples,
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prescription, reason, refuses his as- sent, and chooses rather to consi- der death as the close of existence, to leave his eternal lot in the hands of chance, and to expose himself delibe- rately and tranquilly to the most dreadful Consequences, namely, to a miserable eternity. My God ! is such a man guided by an unbiassed and en- lightened reason, or rather is he not hurried on by the dictates of the most hopeless despair.
We will proceed to more cogent rea- sons. If it be true, that man has no- ttying to expect after this life ; and if it be true, that the earth is his only seat of enjoyment, why is he not happy ? Why do not his days, like those of the brute, flow on without disgust, without sor- row, in the enjoyment of flesh and blood? Why is he not satisfied with pleasures ? Why cannot unrestrained gratifications fill the vast capacity of his heart ? Why is there always some*
234 Th ird Sunday
thing wanting ? All other animals are happy in the station in which God has placed them : they joyfully inhabit the woods and fields, without envying the lot of man, whose means of enjoy- ment are infinitely superior. Man alone pants after more than this earth can afford : .man alone is a prey to his restless desires, tormented by his fears, and sorrowful in the midst of pleasures.
And what, O man, is the reason of this ? The reason is manifest : we were not made for the earth ; we were made for a more happy state : our souls are susceptible of greater enjoyments than the whole world can produce, and no- thing less than God can ever satis- fy us.
2. In the second place, if all ended with the body, by what means could men of every age and clime have con- ceived the idea of the immortality of the soul? If man were formed, like the brute, for the earth alone, nothing
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could be more incomprehensible to him than the idea of immortality. Ne- vertheless, this so extraordinary an idea, so contradictory to the senses, since man dies, and is forgotten like the brutes, is established over the whole earth. Savage states, indeed, have been found who live without a mode of worship, but they all expect a futurity, they all figure to themselves a happy region, which their souls, will inhabit after death. , Now let me ask, by what means could men of such dif- ferent climes, sentiments, and inte- rests, agree in this one point, and all declare themselves immortal? It was>. not by collusion ; for no -communica- tion existed between them. It was not by education ; for manners, customs, and .habits are not the same in all. The fact is, that man convinced himself of this truth ; or rather, nature taught him. This is a sentiment infixed in his soul by the Author of his existence,
5286 Third Sunday
and has continued indelible from the beginning of time.
The origin, therefore, of infidelity, and the reasons on which it is founded, are weak and trivial. We will exa- mine the plausibility which they at- tempt to throw over it, and you shall see that the system, so far from being- plausible, is equally repugnant to the idea of an all-wise God, and to the tes- timony of our conscience.
3. " Is it becoming the majesty of God," they say, " to trouble himself about what passes in the world, to count the virtues or vices of us poor worms of the earth? This would be an occupa- tion which even man would disdain."
Before I expose the impiety of this horrid blasphemy, I must remark, that the greatest indignity to the Supreme Being is offered by the unbeliever him- self. For he supposes that the Deity must endure cares, solicitudes, and a studied attention. This is not the case ;
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for as we live, move, and exist in him, every thought and every action of every individual is instantly registered in his eternal mind, and can no more escape his notice, than he can cease to be God.
This truth being acknowledged, I answer in the first place, that if it be beneath the majesty of God to reward the virtues or punish the vices of us poor worms of the earth, the man who was just, upright, chaste, and pious, would not be more acceptable in his sight than the man who was profane, impure, deceitful, and impious ; since the one and the other would share the same fate, and be buried for ever toge- ther in the tomb.
This, however, is a small part of the consequences attendant on this blas- phemous system. God, so far from looking down with indifference on,vir- tue and vice, would declare himself in favour of the impious. For, him he
288 ThirdSunday
r ?•.
exalts like the cedars of Lebanon, him he crowns with riches and honours. On the other hand, he seems to forget the just man, he humbles him, he chas- tises him, he delivers him up to the will and power of his enemies ; for sufferings and contempt are generally the lot -Of the virtuous on earth. If, therefore, no rewards be in store for virtue, no pu- nishments for vice, in a future state, the Divinity is the protector of adulterers, blasphemers, and of wickedness in the most abominable shapes ; he is the persecutor of innocence, of purity and virtue; his favours attend vice, and his frowns lower over sanctity. Ah ! dearly beloved, what a God of dark- ness, confusion, and iniquity is ^created by this s}7stem of infidelity !
" Since this God is so just, then,1" . the infidel will say, " how can he pu- nish as crimes those inclinations for pleasures which he himself has implant- ed in our nature ?" To many, perhaps,
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this argument may appear specious ; but a slight examination will be suffici- ent to prove its fallacy. According to this argument, desire is our own only
<J f
natural law ; inclination is our only rule of conduct. We have onlyv to cast an envious eye on the property of our neighbour, and, strictly speaking, it will be lawful to wrest it from him : we have only to look on his wife with a corrupted heart, and it will not be cri- minal to violate the sanctity of matri- mony, notwithstanding the most sa- cred rights of society and nature : in a word, we have only to possess inclina- tions for every vice, and we7 may in- dulge them without remorse; and as no one is fiee from vicious inclinations, no one is debarred from this impious liberty. Oh! how revolting to reason is this doctrine.
But turn to the other side of the question, and do justice to the nature of man, or rather to the Creator who
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formed him. If the law of our mem- bers impel us to sensual enjoyments, we find another law written in our hearts, which invites us to chastity and tempe- rance. Of these two opposite laws, why should the unbeliever decide, that the one which favours the senses is the most conformable to the nature of man ? If, indeed, no one could be found who lived in opposition to this law, he might with some reason argue from its violence, and irresistible influ- ence ; but there have always been, and there still exist a multitude of chaste and faithful souls, who live in the fear of the Lord, and in the observance of his holy laws. These inherited from na- ture the same inclinations as the rest of men ; the objects of passion are as ca- pable of making an impression on them, as on others ; they resist them never- theless, and so far from lessening their happiness by their resistance, they in- crease it an hundred fold. The grati-
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fication of our passions, therefore, is opposite, rather than conformable to our nature.
Hence we must conclude, that it is just on the part of God to punish the transgressors of his law. Here, again, the infidel will say, that " if there be a future state, it will be only for the just; that they perhaps may rise to a life immortal, but that the punishment of the sinner will be, the eternal anni- hilation of his soul.'' This is his last resource.
But in vain does he fly to this inse- cure hold i for what punishment would it be to the sinner to exist no more after death? He desires annihilation. It is his fondest hope. He lives peace- able in the midst of sensual pleasures, in thq agreeable expectation of it. And can it be supposed that a just God will punish the sinner by granting him an end conformable to his desires ? No : my beloved, God punishes not in this
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manner. For where would be the pu- nishment ? It would not he the loss of the enjoyment of God ; for the infidel neither loves him, nor wishes to enjoy him. It Mrould not he annihilation ; for nothing could be more desirable to the wretch, who knows that, after death, he shall exist only to suffer, and to ex- piate the abominations of his past life. It would not be the loss of the plea- sures of the world, and of the dear ob- jects of his passions ; for he knows, that when he is no more, he can love them no longer. In fact, a more de- sirable lot could not be devised for the impious : and shall this be the sweet term of all his debaucheries, his blas- phemies, and crimes ?
No ; beloved Christians, no : the hopes of the wicked shall perish, but their crimes shall not perish. Their torments shall be as eternal as their un- lawful pleasures would have been, had they been masters of their own destiny.
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The just Judge, who scrutinizes "the heart, will proportionate their suffer- ings to their offences ; immortal flames, to pleasures which they would willingly have immortalized : eternity itself will be their only just compensation, their only equitable punishment.
Oh, my friends ! let us fly from this cbaos of confusion, folly, and madness. Let us entertain a salutary fear of futu- rity. Do not ask what is done in this other world, but ask yourselves what you- are to do in this. Remove the stings of conscience by the innocence of your lives : call in God to your as- sistance : seek happiness, not in shak- ing off 'the yoke of piety, but in tast- ing how sweet it is. Futurity will ne- ver appear to you incredible, if you live not like those unhappy men, who confine all their hopes to the enjoy- ments of the present life. Then, so far from dreading a world to come, you will long for its approach : you will sigh 03
294 Third Sunday after 'Epiphany.
for that happy hour, when the Son of Man, the Father of the world to come, shall punish the unbelievers, and admit into his kingdom the chosen few, who have lived in the expectation of a happy immortality.
295
FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
ON SUBMISSION TO THE WILL OF GOD.
Behold a great tempest arose in the sea, so that the ship was covered with the waves — and his disciples came to Jesus, and awaked him saying, Lord save us — and he said, Why are. ye fearful, O ye of little faith.— Matt. viii. 24.
. 1 HE conduct of the disciples, as described in this day's gos- pel, conveys a most instructive lesson to Christians in adversity. They were in the midst of a boisterous sea, they had recourse to Jesus in their danger, and nevertheless they are rebuked as men of
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littlefaith. Theyare rebuked, not indeed on account of their application to Jesus, but on account of the fear they felt on that occasion. They seejned to forget that God was the author of their pre- sent distress, and manifested by their alarms a want of submission to his holy will.
We, like the Apostles, are in the midst of a boisterous ocean, and fre- quently overwhelmed with the waves of tribulation and sufferings. On those occasions it is our duty, not only to fly to Jesus for assistance, but, in or- der to avoid the rebuke which the Apos- tles received, to shew no symptoms of alarm or despondency, to consider God as the great author of all that happens to us, and to be entirely sub- missive to his will. Ah ! were this our disposition, what happy effects would it produce in our souls : it would create cheerfulness in adversity, give merit to our sufferings, sanctify our
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amusements, moderate our fears, and regulate our hopes. "It would impart happiness and content to each one in the state in which God has placed him, and, in opposition to every obstacle, enable him to apply every circum- stance in life to his own sanctification. Seldom however is this submission to the will of God to be found among
o
Christians.. All are unhappy; all are grieving; all are repining ; all seem to think that this constant vicissitude of human things is occasioned, either by chance, by their own imprudence, or by the malice of others.: none attribute them, to the decrees of the great Ruler of the Universe. As this subject re- lates to the happiness of, perhaps, every individual of this assembly, I will en- large upon it in this discourse.
The sorrows and disquietudes which are felt from time to time by almost every individual of the human race,, arise from three different sources,,
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namely, anxiety for the future, dissatis- faction during the present moment, and useless regrets for the past. The future creates uneasiness by the fears and hopes which it excites ; the pre- sent disturbs the mind by the dis- appointments, and cares which attend it ; and the past throws a gloom over the soul, by representing to the ima- gination the sorrowful remembrance of past evils, which time ought to have obliterated.
1. Anxiety respecting the future, is, in general, the most bitter alloy of hu- man happiness. Men are wretched, because they will not enjoy the present moment. They anticipate cares and troubles : they dive into the secrets of futurity for causes of uneasiness : they form imaginary phantoms, and frighten themselves with them : not reflecting that they have real griev- ances in abundance, they trouble themselves about to-morrow ; they at-
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rend not to the sentence of our Saviour, who says, that, sufficient for the day is the evil thereof, (Matt. vi. 34.) The more enlightened class of men form to themselves more subjects of uneasiness, than the illiterate ; the wise are more timid and restless than the simple ; and the greater their foresight the sooner do they descry future evils.
But, dear Christians, the man who throws himself without reserve into the hands of God, by perfect submission to his holy will, is a stranger to the troubles, the cares, and solicitudes of the children of the world. He knows that the secrets of futurity are con- cealed in the bosom of his Providence ; and that the power of man can no more change the order of his adorable will, than it can add to his own stature. He is convinced that no danger is incurred by confiding wholly in the power and goodness of his Protector: or rather, he rejoices, he exults in the assurance 06
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that God vouchsafes to interest him- self in his behalf: his joy and peace of mind are increased, when the sacred oracles announce that the Lord ex- pressly commands him to trust in his Providence, that He takes on himself the care of the future, and orders him to be solicitous only to sanctify the present by the works of piety, and religion.
I pretend not to insinuate that reli- gion authorizes sldth and imprudence ; and that dependance on God consists in placing such an unlimited confidence in him, as to suppose that he will pro- vide for our future wants without our concurrence. This is by no means the case : the just man trusts in God, but he does not tempt him : he labours as if every thing depended on himself, but he awaits the issue of his exertions with placid tranquillity : he knows that his reason must suggest the ne- cessary precautions, but he knows
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likewise that success depends on GocI alone : • he is discriminating in the^ choice of means, but he is simple, and submissive in the expectation of the event : in a word, he is as familiar M'ith a prudent forecast as the world- ling, but with this difference, that he never sacrifices his peace, and tranquil- lity of mind.
I should be more correct, if I as- serted that the just man alone was truly provident,, and that the prudence of the worldling was purely nominal. This I will prove by comparing the beautiful description, given by St. James, (James iii. 1 7.) of a Christian, and submissive prudence, with a pru- dence which is merely human.
First, the prudence of the just mart, according ta the Apostle, is chaste, and innocent. He acknowledges no other means of attaining his ends, than what conscience allows, and religion approves : every species of prudence
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incompatible with salvation,, is, ac- cording to him, the height of folly.— The prudence of the sinner, on the other hand, is corrupt, and criminal : he be- trays his conscience in order to attain Ilis ends : he considers only what will be advantageous; and he soon per- suades himself that it is innocent.
Secondly, the prudence of the just man is placid. His measures are always calm, and mild, because they are sub- jected to the will of God : he wishes for success inasmuch only as it will be conformable to the will of heaven. — The prudence of the sinner, on the other hand, is turbulent, because he is not resigned to the will of God : .he attaches happiness, not to the will of heaven, but to the success, of his plans ; and thus, his prudence becomes the fruitful source of solicitude, and anxiety.
Thirdly, the prudence of the just man is modest He has no views be-
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yond his state of life : he fixes proper limits to his desires : his ambition is to make himself useful : and thus his mo- deration is a treasure from whence the sweets of peace, and the security of innocence are derived. — The prudence of the sinner, on the other hand, is in- satiable. He is always forming new projects : his desires know no bounds : the ill success of his measures is the only subject of his fears : and the risk- ing of his salvation is of little con- sequence, provided he can. attain the object of his pursuit.
Fourthly, the prudence of the just man is humble, and docile. He al- ways mistrusts his own powers : he relies more on the assistance of heaven, than on all the precautions of human foresight : and although he neglects nothing on his part, he looks to God alone for success. — The prudence of the sinner, on the other hand, ' is full of self-sufficiency. He relies on his
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own means for success : lie confides in his own wisdom : lie considers only his own strength, as if the great Dis- poser of all did not interfere with the things of this world.
Fifthly, the prudence of the just man is simple,, and without guile. He places not his security in the constant mis- trust of his fellow-creatures: he is not disposed to believe evil : he would ra- ther be the victim of the designs of a few, than judge rashly of the thoughts and intentions of many. — The prudence of the sinner, on the other hand, is di- rected by suspicions, and mistrust. He places confidence in none : he s-uspe'cts evil where it does not exist: he ima- gines that every individual, like himself, is *solely intent on his own interest; and therefore, for his own security, as •he thinks, he judges ill of all indiscri- minately.
Sixthly, the prudence of the just man is without dissimulation. He has not re-
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course to artifice : he wishes to deceive no one, and therefore he never disguises his real sentiments : his whole attention is devoted to sincerity, and candour. — The prudence of. the sinner, on the other hand, is a continued duplicity. His lips belie his heart : his counte- nance is the reverse of his sentiments : he considers himself artful, in propor- tion as he is crafty : his whole life is a tissue of hypocrisy and deceit. His prudence, therefore, is always attended with uneasiness, and restraint, because he can never appear in his true cha- racter.
Lastly, the prudence of the just man is pious, and compassionate. To human, means he adds the practice of virtue, and the advantages of prayer : his hopes of success are grounded on the abundance of his alms, and on the merits of Christian charity ;. he dis- covers in the duties of religion, the principal resource, and only support of
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his property. — The sinner, on the other hand, considers piety as, an obstacle to his prosperity : he rejects the maxims of religion as incompatible with his worldly prospects : and, if at any time he puts on the appearance of virtue, it is merely external, in order to attain more easily some favourite object which he has in view.
Thus, continues the Apostle from whom I have taken the heads of this description, the prudence of the just man is a never failing source of peace springing up in his soul. Whereas, the prudence of the world, the pru- dence which cometh not from heaven, but from the corruption of the sinner, is an uninterrupted torrent of fears, of desires, and of disappointments.
2. The unhappiness of the sinner is occasioned, in the second place, by the pretended evils which prevent his en- joyment of the present time. Could he enjoy the present moment all would be
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well; but generally his affections are fixed on things which he does not possess ; and his mind is ruffled by every trivial circumstance that thwarts his inclinations. If he has one cause to rejoice, he has others to mourn. If prosperity smile upon him, health is wanting ; if he be in health, prosperity refuses its smiles : if health and prosperity be united, the loss of a friend, disappointments, or anxieties prevent the enjoyment of either : if he possess every means of gratifying his inclinations, and no serious cause of uneasiness intervene, still he is not happy, still there is always something wanting; and so unfortunate is he. in point of temper and disposition, that a trivial, or even an imaginary grievance will throw a gloom over a thousand objects of pleasure, and prevent the en- joyment of all that he possesses.
How preferable, even in a worldly sense, is the state of the true Chris-
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tian ! To him, even in the most trying circumstances, submission to the will of God is an abundant source of qon- solation. "God is sufficiently power- ful," he says, "to support me. It is my duty to allow him to act as he pleases : he has abundant means of sa- tisfying all my wants; and although things may appear desperate in the eyes of men, his power can easily re- dress them : it is his will that I should hope even when there seems to be no room for hope ; for, in proportion as human assistance fails, he will be my protector."
Another motive for this humble and devout submission on the part of the just man, is the knowledge that he subjects himself to the will of a God who is infinitely wise; of a God who has the best motives for every affliction which he sends ; who beholds the ad- vantages of the different situations in which he places him ; who does no-
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thing by chance ; and who knows the effects before he adopts the means. If we decided for ourselves, we might reasonably indulge uneasiness*, for we are not sufficiently acquainted with our nature to know what would be best for us. But God regulates events with consummate wisdom, and although his motives are concealed, they are just and adorable. "I ought not," says the true Christian, " to scrutinize his un- searchable ways, with the weak, and confined powers of human understand- ing. I know not where the road will lead tOj in which he has commanded me to walk ; but since he has placed me in it, I will walk on cheerfully, aijd without fear: he frequently leads his faithful servant to the promised land through the dry, and fatiguing paths of the desert ; and generally conceals his motives, in order that he may reap the whole merit of submission."
He reflects, moreover, that he sub-
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jects himself to the will of a tender, and merciful God, who loves him, and who has his salvation only in view. If he chastises him, he knows that it is for his salvation; if he spares him, it is for his salvation; if he hum- bles him, it is for his salvation ; if he exalts him, it is likewise for the same beneficent purpose : in a word, in whatever situation he may be, he knows that he leads him as a tender father ; directs him as a friend ; up- holds him as a protector; and walks before him as a guide to direct him in all his Mrays. He knows that he is a God, whose dispensations to his crea- tures are directed solely by the dictates of mercy, and goodness; that he is a Father, who has no other object but the welfare of his child ; and that he is a friend, who has nothing so much at heart as the interest of him whom he loves. This is honour : — this is happiness : — Can any condition
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on earth be more desirable ? Ah ! if this were the only benefit which piety conferred, the lot of the just, and faithful soul is certainly the most ra- tional, and happy that any one can wish for in this world.
3. The third source of the unhappi- ness of man is regret for the past. We are too apt? to look back on the mis- fortunes of our past life with sorrow. Had we acted otherwise, we think, we should have avoided all the evils which embitter our days ; or had we seized the advantages which were thrown in our way, we should now be comforta- ble, and happy. The grand science, however, of religion, is to take ad- vantage of the past by contemplating the designs of God over the ways of men. The ancient patriarchs beheld the hand of God in every occurrence ; they meditated on the various paths by which his wisdom conducted them through life ; and were lost in astonish-
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ment at the thought of his inscrutable ways. The sacred historians, likewise, had the Deity only in view. They re- present God as the great Disposer of every event; and by them we are taught to consider the various revolu- tions which have agitated the universe, as the history of the designs and in- tentions of God upon men. With the same eye the just man looks back on the history of his past life. He sees no cause to lament any misfortune or loss, however serious or afflicting the consequences may be ; because he knows that all was directed by the will of an all-wise, and merciful Providence. He cannot indeed discover the motives of God, but it is his consolation to reflect, that hereafter he will behold without disguise the adorable ways of providence in the regulation of every circumstance of his life, and admire the wisdom, and goodness, with which he made every thing contribute to his sanctification.
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These are the benefits which the just man derives from submission to the will of God. Ah ! my friends, turn yourselves to what side you please, you will never find rest and peace except in submission. You must will what God wills. This is the great secret of Christian piety ; this is the precious treasure of religion ; this is the sub- lime science of the saints. With- out , this, what is man? He is the sport both of his turbulent passi- ons, and of the perpetual vicissitudes of human things. Chained by the corruption of his heart to present en- joyments, with them he is hurried on with rapidity, and like the figures fixed on a wheel which are carried round when it is put in motion, he has never an assured permanence. He inces- santly wishes to be united to creatures, and is incessantly obliged to tear himself from them. He is always supposing that he has attained the place of rest, and is
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continually obliged to recommence his pursuit. He is always weary with his toils, and always drawn again into the vortex. In the midst of these his sorrows and regrets he finds no source of conso- lation; not in the world, for the world is the great cause of all his evils; — not in the testimonies of conscience, for this is the seat of remorse ; not in the love of God, for against him he has revolted. He drinks the bitter chalice even to the dregs. In vain does he pour it from one cup into another, says the prophet ; that is, in vain does he seek for pleasure by substituting one passion for another : anxiety, remorse, and bitterness pursue him still in every direction : he changes his situation, but he does not diminish his sufferings, He hath poured it out from this to that, says the royal prophet, but the dregs thereof are not emptied ; all the sinners of the earth shall drink! (Ps. Ixxiv. 9.)
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Great God ! why shall not my soul be subjected to thee ? Art Thou such a hard master that there would be dan- ger in leaving my concerns in thy hands ? What have I to fear, if I place my whole dependance on Thee ? Ah ! when I attempted to be myself the director of my affairs, I always failed ; the event never corresponded with my wishes, and endeavours : I succeeded only in forming to myself new anxie- _ ties, and disappointments. Thou didst take a pleasure in destroying the build- ing as fast as I erected it : Thou wouldst teach me, that man endeavours in vain to build the house, unless thy adorable hand support, and raise it. How much more secure is it, my God, to suffer Thee alone to act, and to labour only under thy orders. What disquietudes should I have avoided, if I had been attentive to this duty ! My condition in life would be the same, but my sufferings would not PS
3 16 Fourth Sunday after, 8?c.
have been the same. I should have en- joyed that peace, to which I have hi- therto been a stranger, and hereafter, that recompense which Thou hast pro- mised to those, who on earth desire only the accomplishment of thy will.
317
FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY.
ON SALVATION.
All whatsoever you do in word, or work, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. . . . . . Col. iii. 17.
1 HE advice, which the apostle gives in the words of my text, cannot be too frequently incul- cated in these days of irreligion and immorality. The cares and solicitudes of the world so completely engross our thoughts, and its riches and pleasures are so universally the objects of our conversations and actions, that every other thing is disregarded and forgot- ten : so earnestly do we labour for the P 3
318 ' Fifth Sunday
bread that perisheth, that no time is kftj no solicitude is felt for the acqui- sition of the bread which endureth unto life everlasting.
In vain does the Church declare that, if we labour exclusively for what passes "with time, our labours are nugatory, and that we are like unto men who spend their time in raising heaps of sand, which roll down again on their heads, in proportion as they increase their height, In vain does the Church' proclaim that one thing only is worthy of our serious attention, namely, the one which will continue with us during the whole term of our existence. We listen eagerly enough to what the world will tell us ; but we never hearken to any of her admonitions. Notwithstanding her remonstrances, we labour for these perishable things with as much zeal, earnestness, and vivacity, as if we were labouring for goods which could never be taken from us : and we labour for
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the real good things of eternity with as much languor and indifference, as if we were labouring for the things that perish.
What are the causes of this perver- sity in rational creatures ? We are co n- manded by the apostle to refer all, whatsoever we do in word, or in work, to the glory of God ; and we refer all to the world. We are commanded to make salvation our great, our only concern ; and our great, our only con- cern is our welfare in the world. The investigation of this subject is of the highest importance, and worthy of your most serious consideration.
1. Salvation is the great, the only business for which we came into this world. Our all for eternity depends on it. We have, properly speaking, no other thing to do on earth. The vari- ous occupations and duties attached to the state of life in which we are placed, P4
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are only so many means of attaining this wished for term.
This is a truth, which no Christian can refuse to believe : and yet, how little is it attended -to! This happy term, to which all our actions ought to be referred, is overlooked and neglect- ed. This principal employment, to which all. others ought to yield, is the last that gains attention. This amia- ble occupation, to which all the conso- lations of heaven, all the sweets of vir- tue are annexed, is called tedious and ' burthensome.
The cause of this fatal neglect may be easily ascertained. "We are deluded by the pompous names which the world affixes to the enterprises of ambition and vain-glory, and by the honours and titles with which it distinguishes its
. <o
successful votaries : we are led to be- lieve that actions thus ennobled and ap- plauded, are truly great, and alone
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worthy of our notice : we admire them ; and in proportion as our admiration of them increases, we entertain a distaste for those more humble exercises — the exercises of piety, which have nothing to recommend them but their merit in the sight of God. — This is the first cause of the general decay of piety, and of the little solicitude that is felt for the kingdom of heaven.
Cf
But, my beloved, how degrading even to reason is this unworthy prefer- ence which is given to the glory of the world ! Yes : h&w degrading even to reason! For, is it not agreeable to every principle of reason, that those ac- tions- should appear the most com- mendable in our sight, which are the most entitled to our admiration, and esteem ? Certainly it is. Now, what is there very commendable in worldly exploits ? They will acquire, it is true, a reputation, and perhaps hand down, the name of the celebrated hero to the.
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latest posterity. But what is all this ? The monuments of pride and ambition will perish with the world that raised them : the victories and conquests which now shine with such lustre in the page of history, will he effaced from the memory of man, and be bu- ried for ever in oblivion. But it is not so with the works of piety. They are wrorthy of immortality : they will be recorded in the book of life, and sur- vive the wreck of the whole world. — The rewards of the one are vain and temporary ; those of the other, infinite and eternal. — -The most sublime occu- pations of the one, to which prejudice has affixed high-sounding appellations, are trivial and insignificant ; those of the other, grand and important. Every action of the just man is noble and dig- nified : the object of his love is the Great Author of his existence — the Sovereign of the universe : he serves an omnipotent Master : he sighs after
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eternal possessions : he forms projects for gaining heaven : lie labours for an immortal crown. According to every principle, therefore, of right reason, we ought to acknowledge, that works which have eternity for their object, are the most noble works in which man can be engaged, and that, consequent- ly, they are most entitled to our admi- ration and applause.
2. Secondly, we are indolent in the great affair of salvation, because we neither make it our principal business, nor give it the preference to our other occupations. We all desire to save our souls : the most abandoned do not re- nounce this consoling hope : we all perform actions, from time to time, which have this object solely in view ; for we know that heaven is , not to be obtained without some efforts on our part. So far we are consistent with our profession of the Christian faith. But the misfortune is, that we dp not pro- P6
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ceecl far enough. We do not allow the works of piety to hold that rank among the other occupations of our life to which they are entitled ; and we are deficient in our attention to the few works of this kind that we do per- form.
A slight inspection into the arrange- ment of your different employments will convince you of this truth. You have stated times in the day allotted for the duties of your state of life, for the concerns of your families, for your ' recreations and pastimes : but what allotment is there for the great business of salvation ? What consideration do you give to that which ought « to take place of every other consideration ? Does it even enter into the arrangement of your various employments ? or, if it does, is it not the first that is omitted to give place to any occupation or hurry of business that occurs ? Do you not allow infinitely more to the
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world, than you do to God ? — Some- times, perhaps, you bestow a trifle on the poor : hut what is it, when com- pared with the sums you throw away in idle gratifications, and useless ex- penditure ? — You, perhaps, lift up your hands to heaven, and pour forth yotir souls in fervent supplications to the Lord every morning and night : but when these are concluded, does not the world rush in, and engross all your other thoughts? — You assist from time to time at the holy mysteries : but is not that act of piety counterbalanced by your subsequent dissipation of mind, and inattention to every other spiritual duty ? — You sometimes, per- haps, perform an act of self-denial, pa- tiently endure an affront, forgive an injury, and mortify the sensual appe- tite : but are not these solitary acts, extraordinary occurrences, totally dis- tinct from your common line of con- duct ? You can hardly produce one
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action done for heaven, but a thousand may be produced on the other side, which the enemy will claim as done for him. Salvation is a business, to which you attend only at vacant moments : the world, and your temporal pursuits, occupy the far greatest share of your lirne and thoughts.
But, perhaps, you will say, "how can it possibly be otherwise ? I devote a part of the Sunday to religious exer- cises : I allot to prayer a short time at morning and night ; and more than this I cannot do. My state of life re- quires, that I devote my whole time to business for the support of myself and family." That this may be your state I will not deny : and far be it from me to censure your eagerness to fulfil these duties. But you mistake my meaning : you go upon the supposition that attention to your spiritual con- cerns is incompatible with the occupa- tions attached to the state of life in
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which Providence has placed you. This is not the truth. Every domestic duty that you perform may, if you please, he made to promote your sanc- tification : every Christian virtue may he practised at the time that your hands are at work. Mortification and penance may be exercised when your employments are laborious and disa- greeable: clemency and justice, when you are in authority over others : sub- mission to the will of God, when suc- cess does not attend your labours, or when any afflicting circumstance befals you : forgiveness of injuries, when you are persecuted, calumniated, or injured either in your person or property : con- fidence in God alone, when you expe- rience injustice or oppression from those above you.
When, therefore, we say that salva- tion ought to be your only concern, we do not pretend to insinuate that you must neglect your other duties
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and abandon every other pursuit. This would he contrary to the designs of God. We only mean to inculcate, that all your actions must be performed with the view of pleasing God ; that they must be sanctified by piety, ani- mated by religion, and regulated by the fear of God; in, a word, that the procuring the salvation of your souls must be the end and motive of them all. — Merit or demerit does not ex- clusively arise from the nature of the actions which you perform, but from the dispositions of mind with which you perform them. Application to your temporal .duties will either impede or promote your sanctification according to the spirit with which you are ani- mated. This is the point to which we wish to call your attention : every thing depends on this. But, unhappi- ly, the spirit of piety is a spirit to which the greater-number of Christians are strangers ; and this may be assign-
after Epiphany. 529
eel as the third cause of your neglect- ing the only means of ensuring your salvation.
3. You are unacquainted with the true spirit of piety. The world and its vanities have made such deep impres- sions on your minds, that you vainly suppose that there is no other source of enjoyment and delight. You imagine that prayer is attended with no conso- lation ; that retirement is melancholy ; that spiritual reading is dull and insi- pid ; that fasting and self-denial are insupportable, and even prejudicial to health; in a word, virtue appears to as- sume such a forbidding aspect in your eyes, that you shun its embraces ; and, M'hen you fulfil any duties, you fulfil them in as negligent a manner as if they were so many odious debts, which could only be discharged with a bad grace, and as if it were by constraint.
But, my beloved, this is not the de- scriotion of true virtue; the ideas that
330 Fifth Sunday
you entertain of it are suggested by your tepidity: the disgust that you feel does not arise from any defect in piety, but from the corruption of your own heart : it is not the chalice of the Lord that is bitter, but it is your taste that is vitiated : to a sick man every thing is loathsome. Were you to cor- rect your failings, you would discover that the yoke of the Lord was light : were you to rectify your taste, which has been depraved by sin, you would experience that the Lord was sweet, you would be convinced that virtue was lovely and charming.
If words are not sufficient to remove your doubts on this subject, examine farther ; go to the just man : look into his interior : behold with what delight and joy he applies to these irjtsome duties, as you call them : put your questions to him ; ask him, whether his pleasures would be increased were he to intermit his pious exercises, and
- after Epiphany. 33 1
live, like you, thoughtless and world- ly ? " Ah !" he would immediately re- ply, " how little do you know of the sweets of holiness ! Could you but taste the happiness I enjoy, you would renounce the listless, the insipid, life which you lead. From prayer I have learned to draw whatever can be had of pure and heartfelt satisfaction ; — from works of piety, the most enliven- ing glow of pleasure; — from constant attention to the presence of God whilst my hands are at work, refreshment in the day of heat, and alacrity and joy even under the oppression of the most trying circumstances." — It is from the heart that every pleasure proceeds : that is the seat of all true enjoyment : were your hearts centered in God, you would derive pleasures from the things of God ; but, as long as they are centered in the world, depend upon it, you never can taste any of the sweets of virtue : it is, and
332 Fifth Sunday
must be necessarily, as long as these are your dispositions, irksome and un- inviting.
4. The yoke of the Lord appears to be heavy and insupportable likewise on another account, namely, because you are not accustomed to its weight. A -few transient moments, devoted to the great affair of salvation ; a few trivial exercises of piety performed during the day, is the whole of your religion : and when these are fulfilled, you immedi- ately turn from them, as from an insi- pid task, and fly with joy to your worldly pursuits. You allow not suf- ficient time for grace to alleviate the burden : you lose the sweets and con- solations of piety by your impatience and haste. The kine, which the Philis- tines selected to convey the ark of the Lord beyond their frontiers, like those unhappy men who are not accustomed to the yoke of virtue, bellowed, says the scripture, and seemed to groan un-
after Epiphany. 333
der the weight of that sacred load : whereas the sons of Levi, being habitu- ated, like the just, to the sacred minis- try, carried it with dignity even over the burning sands of thedesart, making the air resound at the same time with their canticles of joy, and praise. — The law of the Lord is not burthensome to him who is accustomed to fulfil it : the worldly soul alone, who is not fami- liarized with its holy observances, groans under the lovely weight. When our Saviour assured us that his yoke was sweet, and his burden light, he at the same time commanded us to carry it daily. Habituate yourselves, there- fore, to the hardships of the cross ; arid then, after you have given proofs that you possess the fidelity of the just man, you also will experience the comforts and satisfactions that are within him.
5. Lastly, the works of piety are irk- some and tedious, because you do not execute them in a proper manner. You
334 Fifth Sunday
pray, but you pray without devotion : you fast, but you enter not into the spirit of compunction and penance : you refrain from injuring an enemy, but you do not love him as a brother : you approach to the holy table, but you possess not fervour, which alone can impart to you the ineffable consolations
'of the Holy Ghost. -Jesus Christ,
my beloved, is not divided. The pleni- tude alone of the law can delight you. The more you retrench from it, the more it will oppress you : the more you endeavour to lighten the weight, the more heavy and fatiguing it , will be. On the other side ; the more you add to it, the more agreeable you will find it: the more austerities you practise, the greater pleasure you will enjoy. The reason is obvious : the imperfect observance of the law is caused by the heart not being entirely divested of its passions ; and a divided heart, which has two objects of 'its love, is necessa-
after Epiphany. 335
rily, according to the declaration of our Saviour, a kingdom full of inte- rior trouble and disturbance.
Serve then the Lord with your whole hearts, and you will serve him with joy: give yourselves up to him without re- serve ; make the full sacrifice of all your passions ; fulfil the justice of the Lord with strictness, and it will pour the sweet oil of gladness over your souls. Be not deluded by the supposition that the tears of repentance are always bitter and sorrowful : the sorrow is only ex- terior. The just, like the burning bush of Moses, appear to be surround- . ed by thorns ; but the glory of the Lord is within : you behold their fasts and austerities ; but the holy unction which sweetens them all is concealed from your sight : you witness their si- lence, their retirement, their hatred of the world and its pleasures ; but you behold not the invisible Comforter, who abundantly repays them for every sa-
336 Fifth Sunday
crifice they offer up to him : in your eyes it seems that they lead a life of melancholy and affliction, it seems that their souls are troubled ; but you see not the delight, the peace, and the se- renity which reign within. — Yes, my beloved ; on these chosen vessels of election the Father of mercies, and God of all consolation pours his choicest gifts, not only with a full and bounte- ous hand, but frequently with such pro- fusion, that the soul, unable to endure the plenitude and excess, is obliged to entreat the Lord to restrain the torrent of his favours, and proportion the mea- sure of his gifts to the weakness of his creature.
Make the experiment, my brethren. Put the fidelity of your God to the test. In this he loves to be tempted. Examine whether we have given an un- faithful representation of his mercies, or whether we attempt to allure the sinner, by holding out false promises
after Epiphany. 337
to entice him. Examine this : exa- mine it thoroughly : and you will dis- cover, that his gifts are far superior to the description we have given of them. You have already made trial of the world : you have found that it did not correspond with, its promises. It en- gaged to give you pleasures, honours, and happiness ; but you found that un- easiness, solicitude, and pain, was al- ways your unhappy lot. Come then and try, whether God will not be more faith- ful to his word ; whether he has pro- mised more than he will give; whether he will be an ungrateful, inconstant, and capricious master. — O God ! how little deserving wouldst thou be of our hearts, if thou wert not more amiable, more faithful, more worthy of our ser- vice than this wretched world ! — Make the experiment, my brethren, with sincerity and ardour; and depend upon it, in a short time you will taste of that cup of pleasure, with which VOL. i. Q
338 Fifth Sunday after Epiphqny.
every just man has been inebriated in this life : and when you have once tasted, you will find the vanities of the world so insipid, your hearts will be so captivated with the desire of drinking deeper of the cup of divine love, that you will never rest until the happy moment arrive, when you will be per- mitted to drink of the torrents of his delights in the heavenly Jerusalem.
SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY.
ON THE TRUE WORSHIP OF GOD.
We give thanks to God for you all . . ,;i- being mindful of the work of your faith, and labour, and charity, and of the enduring of the hope of our Lord Jesus Christ, before God, and our Father. ... 1 Thess. i. 2, 3.
JL HE commendations, which the apostle bestows on tlie Thes- salonians in the epistle of this day, ex- press both the sincerity with.which they received the word of God, and the piety with which they fulfilled it : they icere a pattern to all that believed in Macedonia, and Achaia. With humble simplicity they submitted to the law of the gospel ; and, in opposition to the dictates of proud reason, they embraced Q 2
340 SLvth Sunday
a mode of worship which, till then, was unknown, and which, even at that time, was rejected as folly by the Gen- tile, and as scandal by the Jew.- They captivated their understanding to the obedience of faith; and so perfectly did they serve the living and true God in spirit and truth, and so widely was the fame of their faith spread over the Church, that it was unnecessary for the apostle to speak any thing.
Happy, my beloved friends, should we be, if, like the apostle, we could commend the humble and enlightened simplicity of Christians of the present times ; if, like him, we could say, that we were mindful of the work of their faith, and labour, and charity, and of the enduring of the hope of our Lord Jesus Christ before God and our Father.
But it is too true, that although
the necessity of paying due homage to the Lord of Glory is acknowledged by all, there are few who pay it with sin-
* I *•*••*
after Epiphany. 34 1
cerity and truth. — — Some contend that the true worship of God is purely interior, and that the exterior observ- ances of religion are unnecessary and useless. Others fall into the opposite extreme, and place such undue reliance on the observance of exterior duties, as to neglect the essential property of religion, which consists in the interior purification of the heart. — These dan- gerous, but prevalent opinions, I will combat in this discourse. In the first place, I will prove that piety must ne- cessarily extend to the exterior observ- ances of religious worship ; and second- ly, that piety consists not in exterior observances alone, but must extend to the right government of the pas- sions, and to the removal of every defilement from the heart.
1. True worship, I acknowledge, such as is performed by the angels and saints in heaven, is purely interior. This is the religion of the just who are
Q3
Sixth Sunday
gone before us with" the sign of faith. —But during our abode on earth, the ministry of the exterior senses is indis- pensable: visible objects are required to awaken our faith, to inflame our love, to cherish our hope, and to ex- cite our attention. This system of re^ ligious worship is the only one adapted to our present state. For this reason Abel offered sacrifices ; Enos invoked the name of the Lord with exterior ceremony ; the Patriarchs erected al- tars ; and under the law, religious prac- tices and observances were multiplied exceedingly. When the new law was established — the law of grace and love, the number of these observances was diminished, but exterior religion was not abolished : even a G od became vi- sible amongst us, in order to insinuate • himself into our hearts by means of the .senses: and the great sacrifice perpe- tuated on bur altars under mystical and visible signs, was intended to be
after Epiphany. 343
the consolation and exercise of pur ' piety, even to the consummation of the world.
Nevertheless, because it is acknow- ledged that the worship of God essen- tially depends on the heart, the world presumes to infer that exterior observ- ances are superstitious and unneces- sary ; and that a man may be moral, upright, sincere, generous, and con- sequently acceptable in the sight of God, without all that display of reli- gion, without that fasting and absti- nence, which only tends to impair the health, and without that scrupulous exactitude in fulfilling certain exercises of devotion, which the cloister, and not the apostles, introduced into the Church; or in other words, the wis- dom of the world objects against exte- rior observances of piety, on account of their pretended inutility, their sim- plicity, and the many abuses to which they are liable.
Q4
344 Sixth Sunday
"In the first place, the world pretends that the exterior duties prescribed by religion are useless and unnecessary, because they do not contribute to the purification of the heart. — This erro- neous principle may be easily refuted. But before I proceed I will ask, where is the man who, at the time that he rejects the exterior part of religion, is scrupulously exact in the performance of the interior part, which alone, accord- ing to him, is essential ? Where is the man, whose heart is sincerely devoted to God, at the time that he is exte- riorly devoted to the world ? Who will dare to say, that he is contrite, humble, penitent, and-absorpt in God, at the time that he is immersed in worldly pleasures ? Ah J the man who has once acquired the interior spirit of piety, .-never will dispute the necessity of exterior observances. The sacri- fice of the passions is the only difficul- ty in a spiritual life; and when that
after Epiphany. 345
sacrifice is completed, the exterior ex- ercises of religion are easy and agree- able, are readily acknowledged to be indispensable.
But let us proceed in the refutation. The same law, which commands us to believe with the heart, commands us likewise to confess with our lips, and to give public and avowed testimonies of our faith and piety : First, in order to return glory to God, to whom we be- long, and to acknowledge openly that he alone is worthy of our homage and adoration : — secondly, in order to avoid the crime of ingratitude, which would attend the concealment of the hea- venly blessings with which he favours us : — thirdly, in order to be free from the imputation of detaining the truth in injustice, and of behaving with a tfmidity unworthy of the majesty of the God whom we serve : — fourthly, in order to edify our brethren, and ani- mate them to virtue by oui example ;
'
346 Sixth Sunday
— fifthly, in order to encourage the weak, and enable them to withstand the influence of public derisions by • the display of our own magnanimity : — - sixthly, in order to make reparation, by the odour of a good life, for the scan- dal which our past misconduct has oc- casioned : — seventhly, in order to comfort the just, and to induce them to bless -the riches of the mercies of God, which are manifested in our conversion : — lastly, in order to con- found the enemies of religion, and oblige them to confess that true virtue
is still to be found von earth. These
are the good effects produced by the exterior exercises .of piety; and that they are indispensable is tacitly ac- knowledged even by those who declaim against them. For, were the servants of God to adopt the manners and cus- toms of the world, were they to con- fine their religious duties within the same circle as the declared worldling,
after Epiphany. 347
they would be the first to ridicule and censure them : " If heaven is to be gained at that price," they would say, " we ourselves may expect to be saints." Thus do they contradict their own sentiments, and out of their own mouths do they condemn themselves. Luke xix. 22. -y^
The wisdom of the world, in the se- cond place, objects against exterior worship, on account of the pretended simplicity and insufficiency of its ob- servances. This regular frequentation of the sacraments, it is said, these set times for prayer, this eagerness in pro- moting pious undertakings, this zeal in extending the knowledge of the true faith, this respect for the laws of the Church, this exactness in performing certain pious exercises, these, and such like, it is saidr are fit only for those bigoted and narrow minds, who cannot attain to that genuine piety,, Q6
348 Sixth Sunday
which is centered in the heart, and which alone is worthy of man, and ac- ceptable to God.
But, my beloved friends, may we not again ask these philosophic Christi- ans, whether this pretended dignity and elevation of sentiment, which they claim exclusively to themselves, and which induces them to despise the humble and simple exercises of exte- rior piety, be not too frequently de- based by the irregularity of their own conduct, and by the mean passions which they indulge? Ah ! true it is, that the greater number of them are addicted to the most humiliating, the most degrading vices : they are pas- sionate even to excess, and vain even to childishness ; they are elated by the least trifle, and depressed by the slight- est contradiction ; they are guided by the instinct of the senses, like the ani- mals of the field, and they exhibit no- thing in their conduct that is either
after Epiphany. 349
truly great, truly exalted, or truly wor- thy of the sublimity and powers of reason. These, nevertheless, are the men who proclaim, that the exercises of exterior piety are calculated, only for weak rnmds*
True greatness depends on the ac- quisition of an unrestrained power over the sensual appetites and desires, and on the exercise of a supreme dominion over the rebellious passions and cor- rupt inclinations. Without this, there is no true greatness : and this is to be found only in that society, which is as much overlooked and despised, as if it possessed none of the qualities Ayhich do honour to the dignity of human na- ture. — Behold the just man : — with what sincerity does he pardon the most poignant, the most malicious injuries ! — with what fervour does he pray for those who hate and calumniate him ! — with what horror does he avoid even the appearance of evil ! In, religion, in-
350 Sixth Sunday
deed, he is simple, docile, and hum- ble; and he even glories in his humble obedience and simplicity. He is prur 'dent, like the serpent, with respect to evil; Jbut he!is simple, like the dove,, with respect to God. These are vir- tues by which he alone is character- ized ; and these are virtues which must be united in the same breast, in order to form the perfect man. — They, on the other, hand, who depreciate his me- rits, are the sport of the meanest and most contemptible passions : they are reeds which are shaken by every wind. In religious duties alone they pretend to greatness of soul. They are heroes in their opposition against God ; but in their conflicts with themselves, they are pusillanimous in the highest de- gree.
The last objection which is urged against exterior worship is taken from the abuses with wrhich it is too fre- quently accompanied. To this I
after Epiphany. 351
will reply, that abuses ought to be avoided, and that their existence
throws no reproach on piety itself.-
However, on account of the frequency of abuses in the exterior part of divine worship, I will call your attention to them in the second part of my dis- course.
2. Although the exterior works of piety are profitable, as I have demon- strated above, this is only to be under- stood when they are accompanied with that spirit of faith and love, without which the flesh profiteth nothing.
The sanctification of the heart is the principal object of every religious duty : if that end be not promoted, our piety is vain. In the sight of God, our only distinguishing characteristic is the heart : we are acceptable to Him only inasmuch as we love Him : our actions, our desires, our affections are agreeable to Him only inasmuch as they are referred to Him, The works,
352 Sixth Sunday
which are performed without these dis- positions, are unworthy of the Supreme Being ; and before Him are no more than as the sound of brass, or the tink- ling of a cymbal.
Reliance, however, on exterior works alone, divested of the interior . spirit of faith and love, is an abuse which is almost universally diffused. Some people apply themselves se- dulously to works of mercy, are affect- ed at the sight of others woes, relieve their distresses, and never fail to dis- tribute alms according to their abili- ties.— This undoubtedly is praise-wor- thy, aiid consonant with the precepts of the gospel. But they imagine, that this is the whole of their duty. They conclude that, because charity covereth a multitude of sins, the animosities, the 'dislikes, the detractions, and calumnies to which they are habituated, will not be imputed to them. — Others regularly attend at the celebration of the di-
after Epiphany. 353
vine mysteries, frequent the sacraments at stated timeSj are exact in the per- formance of their morning and evening devotions, and perhaps devote a few moments to prayer at other times in the day. All this is undoubtedly lau- dable, and even in some degree neces- sary. But they erroneously suppose, that the whole of piety consists in the regular performance of these exterior duties of religion without any other addition : thev serve the Lord faith-
V
fully with their lips, but their hearts are far removed from him. At the time that they are offering up their supplica- tions to heaven, they are devoted to the world and its pleasures ; — they are unmortified in their affections, and strangers to self-denial : — they are more intent on the acquisition of the mammon of this worldr than on the acquisition of a store of good works: — they look forward with more plea- sure to worldly enjoyments, than to the
354- Sixth Sunday
eternal happiness of the heavenly Je- rusalem. This is certainly a delusion, and a delusion of the most dangerous kind. The scripture informs us, that the voice of the Lord must be obeyed, (1 Kings xv.) : and that heaven is to be gained only by fulfilling his holy will, (Matt. vii. 21.) If therefore they neglect to subdue their passions, to renounce vanity, and to live a truly Christian life, they neglect the essenti- als of religion : they do no* more than display the outward show of piety like the Pharisees, and like them they may be called whitened sepulchres, (Matt, xxiii. 27.) richly ornamented on the outside with religious inscriptions and devices, and decorated with the figures of faith, of piety, of justice, and of mercy; but within, defiled with rotten- ness and corruption.
In our intercourse with the world> we place little confidence in the verbal professions of esteem^ or friendship : we
after Epiphany. 355
are little affected by the officious at- tentions of those whom we know to be our enemies in private: we are at- tached only to those who favour us* with a, mutual attachment. And can we suppose that He, who calls himself a jealous God, the God of the heart; — can we suppose that He will be satis- fied with exterior homage alone ? Can we suppose that He has less discern- ment than men, and that He does not perceive the hypocrisy of our homage, and adoration ?
How inconsistent even with the ideas of human wisdom, is the confidence which the abuse of piety inspires ! and yet nothing is more common, and nothing is more prejudicial to the sal- vation of its unhappy victims. — Aban- doned wickedness is frequently succeed- ed by repentance : the remorse and anx- iety which haunt the conscience of the depraved libertine, frequently awake him from his sinful lethargy, and
356 Sixth Sunday
pose his mind to embrace a reform of life. — But trje regular, and exact fulfil- ment of the exterior duties of religion calms the conscience, and forms, as it were, a cloud over the soul. The de- luded Christian is neither alarmed, nor excited to repentance by the view of his frailties and defects ; because he relies with thoughtless security on the mass of unprofitable good works which he has accumulated. The confidence, with which he is inspired by this sup- posed treasure, fixes his soul in a state of dreadful tranquillity, out of which, in all probability, he will never be awakened. ' Thus it was with the Jew- ish people. They were strict observers of the external works of the law, and they persevered in their iniquities even to the end. The prophets, whom the Lord raised up from time to time, en- 'deavoured with the greatest earnest- ness to undeceive them on this subject. Confide not, they said, in the multi-
after Epiphany . 357
tude of your victims and offerings. Trust not in your works, and legal ob- servances. The Lord requires, before all other things, a pure heart, a sincere repentance, a cessation from sin, a true love of his commandments, a holy and innocent life : rend your hearts, and not your garments, and take away evil out of the midst of you. Their remon- strances, nevertheless, were ineffectual: the temple, the altar, the .sacrifices gave them confidence, and closed their eyes to their injustices, their fornica- tions, and defilements. On other oc- casions, when they had fallen into ido- latry, and had openly rejected the God of their forefathers, the prophets re-, claimed them with easev; but when they were strict observers of the law, remonstrances were in vain : they thought that they were perfect, and would not believe that more was re-, quired of them. — On the same account, publicans and sinners were converted
358 Sixth Sunday
by the preaching of Christ; but the Pharisees, — the men who resemble these half Christians, who were at the same time worldly and devout, who united the exercises of piety with the pleasures, the maxims, the passions, and the excesses of the world, were not converted, but died without com- punction, in the same manner as they had lived, without apprehension or fear.
Ah ! if the precepts of the Christian religion extended no farther than to ex-, terior duties, never would a pagan writer have declared that their sublimi- ty and perfection surpassed the powers of human nature. Exterior duties are performed with little or no difficulty. Easy would be the acquisition of hea- ven, if nothing more was required. The sublimity of the Christian rule con- sists in the interior duties which it exacts : — in the renunciation of self- will — in the regulation of the passions
after Epiphany. 359
— in the forgiveness of injuries— in the love of the most inveterate enemies—- in the government of the tongue — in meekness, patience, and resignation under the severest trials — in the exer- cise of universal charity — and above all, in the decided preferment of the will of God on all occasions, before all the pleasures and vanities of the world. These are the difficulties of a Christian life : these constitute its sub- limity and perfection : these inspired the heathens with the highest ideas of the sanctity, the dignity, the wisdom of the moral code of Jesus Christ. Whereas exterior works alone, instead of being sublime, are vain and trifling; and instead of re-pressing the ardour of self-love, they increase it, and are on this very account performed by many, whilst the essential duties of religion are neglected. This is the last abuse which I shall remark.
Exterior works are good and neces-
360 Sixth Sunday
sary, as I have already demonstrated ; but it is criminal to give them the preference before the more indispensa- ble obligations. — This abuse is very common: many Christians, who pro- fess to live in the fear of God, perform extraordinary works of virtue, through no other motive, than because their va- nity is flattered by the public approba- tion which they receive; and at the same time neglect the more humble duties, because they have nothing to recommend them but their merit in the eyes of the Supreme Being. ' Thus, ' for example, they distribute their lar- gesses to the poor, and without scru- ple defer the restitutions which the law of God requires at their hands. They spend that time in prayer which ought to be devoted to their domestic concerns. They effect reconciliations between contending neighbours, and cause dissensions at home by their own capricious deportment. They conde-
after Epiphany t 36*1
scene! to visit and console the poor af- flicted members of Christ, and refuse to make the least advances to their own enemy, in order to induce him to
« "
a reconciliation, and to gain him over to Christ. They impose on them- selves a daily task, consisting of a variety of prayers, and with the same tongue, with which they praise the Lord, they wound the reputation of their neighbour by backbiting and de- traction : thus demonstrating that their religion is vain, and that they de- ceive themselves.
True piety requires that, in the first place, all the obligations peculiar to your state and condition * in life be fulfilled. If you build not on this foundation, your works are dead, and, like stubble, destined only for the fire. The essence of a truly Christian life consists in the faithful performance of every duty. When these are complet- ed; then you may acquire merit from
VOL. i. R
Sixth Sunday
extraordinary works of virtue. But you must never prefer the unnecessary before the indispensable, your own caprice before the law -of God, or the chimerical perfection of piety before piety itself.
Avoid, therefore, with care, the two fatal rocks which I have described ; — neglect not the exterior observances of religion, and confine not your piety to them alone.— True and solid virtue always keeps the just and equitable
medium : caprice alone adopts ex-
.\ .
tremes. Far be it from you to at- tempt to make any improvements in religion : piety is rational and sub- lime, provided you leave it in its pre- sent state: but if you pretend to pu- rify it by the fancies of your own imagination, you will cause it to de- generate either into a philosophic piety, which affords no consolatory en- couragement to the mind, or into a blind and superstitious zeal, which
after Epiphany. 363
reason despises, ancj which pure reli- gion disavows and condemns.
Let us all unite, my beloved, and by our strict attention to every social, domestic, and religious duty, convince the world that piety.is not the offspring of weakness or caprice, but that it is the only proper rule of conduct, the on- ly preserver of order, the only orna- ment of reason, and the only wisdom which ennobles the mind of man. — Let us enter into the spirit of the maxims of our holy religion ; and let us extort the confession even from the enemies of our holy faith, that piety alone can give dignity and elevation to our sen- timents ; and that no people are so mean and puerile, as they who are guided and enslaved by their passions.
Let us exalt piety to honour, by
leaving it in possession of its divine and amiable qualities — its meekness — its equity — its wisdom — its excellence —its equanimity — its disinterestedness • R2
364 Sixth Sunday after Epiphany.
— its sublimity. Men, prejudiced as they are, will soon unite their suffrages in its favour, when they behold it in its true state, divested of our weak- nesses and defects. Thus shall we
cause the name of the Lord to be prais- ed even by those who know him not : and then we may reasonably hope to be united with them hereafter in a blissful immortality.
ON THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE ELECT.
Many are called, but few are chosen.
Matt. xx. 16.
tl'-ifv,v ' ni^ ,;/.uv 1
1 HIS, my beloved brethren, is a sentence, which is seldom reflected on with that serious attention which its importance requires. It is generally supposed that salvation is attainable at a much easier rate than we represent it to be; and that the number of the elect far surpasses the number of the reprobate. But the words of my text declare, that many are called, but few are chosen.
RS
36'6 Septuagesirtia.
Were it my intention to'strike terror into your minds, instead of consulting your improvement by instruction, I would in this discourse enumerate the alarming examples, with which the scriptures are filled on this subject : I would tell you, that the prophet Isaias compares the small number of elect to the few bunches of grapes, which escape the eye of the vintager ; to the few ears of corn, which chance only preserves from the sickle of the reaper. I would tell you, in the words of God himself, that there are two paths ; the one, narrow, rugged, strewed with thorns, and frequented by very few ; — the other> broad, spa- cious, adorned with flowers, and trod- den by the far greater part of man- kind. I would tell you, that the gos- pel unreservedly declares, that perdi- tion is the fate of the multitude, and that the number of the elect bears no
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comparison with the number of the re- probate.
But what profit would you reap from this discourse, were I to confine my observations to this subject alone? You would be informed of the danger, and you would not be acquainted with the means of escape. You would be- hold the sword of God's wrath lifted over your heaoX and you would not be empowered to avert the stroke. Your peace of mind would be de- stroyed, and you would not discover the irregularities of your moral con- duct.
For your instruction, therefore, I will examine the causes why the num- of the elect is so small, I will apply the subject individually to yourselves, and examine the foundation, on which your hopes of salvation are established. Banish all foreign thoughts from your minds, and attend solely to my words. The subject is important, if any sub- R4
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ject can be so : and more immediately relating to the concerns of your real, and immortal welfare than 'any thing, I be- lieve, that has ever before occupied your attention.
1. The elect of God will be com- posed of people of two different de- scriptions ; of those who have been so happy as to preserve their innocence spotless, and undefiled by mortal sin ; -r— and of those who have regained their lost innocence by suitable works of penance. These are the elect. Heaven is open only to the innocent, and to the truly penitent. — Now, my bre- thren; of which description are you? Are you of the number of the inno- cent ? or are you of the number of the penitent ? Faith assures you, that no- thing defiled can enter heaven. You must, consequently, either have avoid- ed every defilement, or your defilements must have been washed away by sincere repentance. The first is a privilege
Septuagesima. 36$
which is enjoyed by very few ; and the second requires a grace, which, in the present general relaxation of morals and discipline, is either seldom received, or seldom corresponded with.
In those happy times, when the Church was an assembly of saints, few of the faithful, who had been cleansed by the laver of regeneration, and had received the Holy Ghost, relapsed into their former ways. Ananias and Sap- phira were the only prevaricators we read of in the church of Jerusalem : one incestuous man only is recorded to have dishonoured the church of Corinth. Seldom was it necessary to subject a disciple to the rigours of canonical penance : or at least, the number of lepers, who were -banished from the presence of the altar, and separated from the society of their brethren, was very small in comparison J_with the rest of the faithful.
But those times are elapsed ; and
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great is . the change that has taken place. The gospel, indeed, has ex- tended its empire, but the reign of piety is confined within narrower boundaries : the number of believers is increased, but the number of the just is diminished : the world is the same now as it was from the beginning, corrupt and profligate ; its conversion to the faith has produced no change ia its manners and customs ; when it en- tered the Church, it introduced like- wise its immorality and pEofaneness* Yes, my beloved, true it is that the land, even the land of Christianity, is infected by the corruption of its inr habitants : all work iniquity, and sel- dom is there one who does good. Inr justice, calumny, lying, adultery, and crimes of the blackest hue lay waste ithe fair inheritance of Christ : hatreds are perpetual ; reconciliations are sel- dom sincere ; an enemy is seldom lov- ed : detractions, and censures on the
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conduct of others, are indulged on all occasions : and the gifts, which God intended for the support of the corpo- ral frame, are abused by excesses too shameful for description. — All states and conditions have corrupted their ways* The poor murmur against the rich : the ricli forget the author of their abundance i the great seem to exist only for themselves, and licenti- ousness is made the privilege of their independent station. — Even the lamps of Jacob are extinguished : the salt has lost its savour: the priest has be- come like unto the people. — Behold, my brethren, the state of Christianity. And, my God J is this thy Church, thy Spouse, thy beloved inheritance? Is this thy delightful vineyard, the ob- ject of thy tenderest care ? Ah ! more heinous, or more enormous crimes were not committed in Jerusalem, when* thou pronouncedst against it the sen- tence of its condemnation,
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Thus, one gate-— the gate of inno- cence, is irrevocably shut against us. We have all gone astray. There, pro- bably, was a time, when sin defiled the heart of every individual of this assembly. The impetuosity of the passions has perhaps subsided in some : the world, perhaps, is become disgust- ing to others : grace, perhaps, has wrought the conversion of others : but there probably was a period, which we all look back upon with regret, and would gladly consent that it were for ever blotted out of the history of our lives.
But why do I lose my time in at- tempting to prove the loss of our bap- tismal innocence ? We know that we are sinners : we dread the scrutinizing eye of an omniscient God ; and we have too much reason to fear that he beholds innumerable stains even in that part of our lives which appears to us unsullied by any crime. — It is in vain,
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therefore, to claim heaven on the score of innocence : consequently, there is only one road to salvation left, which is that of penance. After the ship- wreck of sin, this is the only plank, say the holy Fathers, that can save us.
2. Now let me ask, where are the penitents in 'this assembly ? Are their numbers considerable? There are more, said a holy Father, who have never lost their baptismal innocence, than have recovered it again by true repentance. A dreadful sentence, my dear brethren ; but, I hope, not too strictly to be enforced, how_ever re- spectable the authority. We will not run into extremes. There are sufficient motives for alarm in the exposition of the known truth, without adding to them by unnecessary declamations. Let us only examine, whether the greater number of us have any right to expect eternal happiness on the score of repentance. "
374 Septuagesima.
In the first place, what is a penitent? A penitent, says Tertullian, is one who, every hour, calls to mind in the bitterness of his soul the sins of his past life : who takes part with the jus- tice of God against himself, and re- nounces innocent pleasures in order to atone for the criminal excesses which he formerly committed. A penitent is one, who treats his body, as an obstinate enemy,-*— as a rebel, whom he must bring into subjection, — as a dishonest debtor, from whom he must exact the last farthing. A penitent is one, who con- siders himself as a malefactor con- demned by the justice of God to death, and is convinced tjiathis only portion in jthis life ought to be sufferings and contempt. A penitent is one, who is ready to submit to the loss of health and property, as to the just privations of blessings which he has criminally abused ; — to crosses and afflictions, as to a punishment due to him on account
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v i •' •
of his transgressions ; — to corporal .pains, as to a foretaste of the eternal torments which his sins have deserved. ~- This is the description of a true penitent. Now let me ask ; where are the men in this assembly who answer this description ?
Are they prostrate in the porch of the temple ? Are they covered with sackcloth, and ashes ? Do they suppli- cate the brethren, who are entitled to enter the sa>nctuary, to offer up their, prayers to the Father of mercies, in their behalf? Have they spent whole years in the exercises of prayer, of fasting, of mortification, and of other penitential austerities ? Are they ex- cluded from the Church, and forbidr den to assist at the celebration of the tremendous mysteries ? Are they treat- ed as the outcast of men, and deprived of every cons-olation but that of their tears and repentance? This at least was the course of atonement prescribed to
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the ancient penitents, and scrupulously fulfilled by them.
I admit that the Churcfi has, long since, authorized a relaxation of this discipline; and my motive for hinting at the severities of those times, was not to lead you into a supposition that the observance of them was still necessary, or to cast reflections on the mild con- descension of the Church in abolishing them ; but to stigmatize the general corruption of the Christian world which rendered the abolition necessary. Ex* ternal discipline must be accommo- dated to the manners and customs of the times. But although laws framed by men are liable to change, the laws of penance are founded on the gospel, and can never change We may satisfy the Church without the rigours of public penance ; but we cannot satisfy either the Church, or God, unless by our private penance we make full atonement for our crimes.
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Now, my brethren, what is your pri- vate penance ? Is it proportionate to the penance of the primitive Christians ? Is it proportionate to the number, and the enormity of your sins ? — You perhaps may say, that you endure the cares and anxieties inseparable from your state of life : that solicitude for the present and future well-being of yourselves, and families, embitters your days : that you labour from morning till night, and that, in spite of all your endeavours, you are frequently the vic- tims of want, of wretchedness, of infir- mities, and of numberless other evils. This, perhaps, may be true. But do you submit to these trials with a truly Christian spirit, without murmurings, without complaints? Do you submit to them in the spirit of penance, and offer them up to God as an atonement for your sins ? If not, they will be found deficient in the scales of unerring jus- tice; and they will not be entitled to
378 Septuagesima.
a reward. But supposing that you did not offend in any of these points ; would you rank in the number of pe- nitents ? Would nothing more be re- quired of -you? Your merit, I allow, would be great. You would offer up an acceptable sacrifice of atonement to the justice of God. But would his justice be completely satisfied ? The primitive Christians endured the ordinary trials of life with patience ; and in addition, submitted to all the rigours of canoni- cal penance : and yet did not do too much. Can your reconciliation be effected by easier means ? Are not vo- luntary mortifications in private re- quired of you ? You know that the penance of every individual must be proportionate to his guilt : and can you reasonably entertain hopes of sal- vation, when your own penance is not regulated according to this maxim ? Oh \ be not deceived. , The ways of re- pentance are far more painful than you
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imagine : the road to heaven presents far greater difficulties to the sinner, than you have hitherto experienced. This is the real truth : and yet you spend your days in perfect tranquil- lity and peace !
You are not, indeed, singular in this respect. You do nothing more than follow the example of a great majority of your fellow Christians. You are not more attached to worldly pleasures, more averse to sufferings and crosses, more deficient in the works of repent- ance, than they. I allow that there are men of more dissolute characters ; for I will not suppose that you are either destitute of religion, or uncon- cerned about salvation : but where are the men that are more penitent ? Alas ! the few that there are of this description, I fear, are chiefly to be found in the shades of sequestered solitude. Amongst the people of the world there is only a small number, who, by a little stricter
380 Septuagesima.
attention to religious duties, attract the notice, and, perhaps, the censures, and ridicule of the public. All the rest tread the same beaten path : children inherit the false security of their pa- rents : seldom is there one that lives innocent ; and seldom is there one that dies penitent. Good God ! if thou hast not deceived us ; if every precept of the gospel must be fulfilled to an iota; if the number of the reprobate will not induce thee to relax something of the severity of "thy la^r; what be- comes of that multitude of people, which daily drop into ete/nity before our eyes ! What is become of our pa- rents, our relations, our friends ! What is their eternal lot !
Formerly, when a prophet com- plained to the Lord, that all Israel had abandoned his alliance, the Lord assured him, that he had reserved to him- st If seven thousand men, who had not bent their knee before Baak But can
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the faithful servants of Jesus be com- forted with the same assurance in these days ? There are undoubtedly many chosen vessels of election : the priest- hood, the army, the court, the cottage have their ornaments — men according to God's own heart, with whom he de- lighteth to dwell : for the world exists only for the sake of the elect; and when their? number is complete, the final dissolution will take place. But how few are they, when compared with that immense multitude which is hur- ried headlong into the deep abyss !
3. You, perhaps, have been encou- raged to rely with confidence on your state, and to conclude that nothing more was required of you, because you perceived that you were as regular, as moral, as attentive to your4 duty as other people. But, my beloved, this, instead of being a subject of consola- tion, ought to strike you with dismay. Others, that is the generality of people,
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live in a state of tepidity, and spiritual sloth ; they are the slaves of pride and vain-glory ; they are addicted to de- traction, hatred, and other vices ; they love neither God nor their neighbour, in the manner they ought; in a -word, they walk in the broad road that lead- eth to damnation. And can you ima- gine that you are secure, because you walk in the same path with them ? The small number of the elect walk in the narrow path : their lives are regu- lated, not by the conduct of the multi- tude, but by the precepts of the gos- pel : their fervent piety, their strict morality, their penitential austerity, exalt them far above the rank of other people: they are, and have been in every age, men of singular lives : they shine like lights in the midst of dark- ness : they are spectacles worthy both of angels and men : they hold in ab- horrence the ways, the maxims, the pleasures, and the vanities of the
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world: they live, says St. Paul, not they, but Christ liveth in them.
Perhaps you will say, that the saints are exceptions to the general rule, worthy indeed of your admiration, but not fit for your imitation. That they are exceptions, I will readily allow. But they are exceptions only from that general rule of walking in the broad road of perdition. A chosen soul, in the midst of the world, must neces- sarily be an exception. — Are we then obliged to walk in the footsteps of the saints ? We are. It is the duty of every one to be holy, and to be a saint. Heaven is open only to saints. There is no other gospel to be followed, no other duties to be fulfilled, no other promises to be hoped for, than those proposed to the saints. Every one is obliged to love God above all things, and his neighbour as himself : every one is obliged to seek heaven in the first place, to be meek and humble of heart, to
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comply with every precept of the gos- pel, to avoid sin as the greatest of all evils, and to do condign works of pe- nance for the sins, into which he has fallen : every one is obliged to do good, to advance forward in the ways of virtue, and to be perfect as his hea- venly Father is perfect. These are ob- ligations imposed on all : they are the same that were imposed on the saints ; and the fulfilling them alone made them saints. Oh ! if there were an easier road- to heaven, it would cer- tainly have been pointed out to us ; it would have been traced out in the gos- pel ; there would have been saints who would have walked in it ; and encou- ragements would have been held out to us by the Church, to follow their easy example. But you know that there has been nothing of the kind. Good God! how little do men consult the dictates of reason, when their eternal salvation is at stake.
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Be not, therefore, lulled into a fatal security by the assurance, that you are as virtuous as other people. On the contrary, beware of the multitude : walk not with the multitude, lest you share the same fate. Take your model . from the saints, and imitate their vir- tues, and sanctity. If you are inno- cent, continue to fulfil every precept of the gospel ; and, by self-denial and prayer, prepare yourselves for future temptations. If you are sinners, be- wail your sins without ceasing: water your couch every night with your tears : put on the weeds of mourning ; and anticipate the judgments of God, by mortification, and penance. — En- ter on this penitential time with ala- crity, and joy; and instead of seeking to increase, or of availing yourselves of the relaxations; which the multitude has extorted, vie with the penitents of old : make it a truly penitential time. Be not seduced by the examples VOL. i. S
386 Septuageslma.
of the impenitent; but, with the chosen few, devote both body and soul to the painful works of fasting and penance. Then you may con- fidently hope that you will receive the reward promised to the truly penitent, and you will be united to their com- pany hereafter in the joys of a blissful immortality.
387 SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY.
ON THE SM.ALL NUMBER OF THE ELECT.
f A sower went out to sow his seed, and as he sowed, some fell by the way side ..... and other some fell upon a rock ..... and other some fell among thorns ..... and other some fell upon good groundy and brought forth fruit a hundred fold. Luke viii. 5, 8.
OUR attention,'
my beloved, is again awakened by a repetition of the dreadful truths, which were the subject of my last discourse. In this parable, the elect and the re- probate are plainly designated ; and the comparatively small number of the elect is discernible to the slightest ob-
O
server. In the first place, out of that immense multitude of people, who.ei- S2
388 Sexagesima.
ther know not God, or refuse obedi- ence to his authority, and throw off the restraints of religion, none are chosen; the parable does not even no- tice them : and the reason is, because, according to the scripture, they who believe not, are already judged. In the second place, out of the seed which God hath sown in his Church, watered with the dews of heaven, and nourished with the manure of his holy word, only one of the four parts described forms
the number of the elect. -The man,
who hears the word of God, but never
follows it in practice, is rejected.
The man, whose sloth and tepidity, like the dryness of a rock, prevent the word of God from taking root, in his soul, and whose only efforts for salva- tion consist in attending at the service of the Church, and in performing a few exercises of devotion without the spirit, and without the fervour of di- vine love, is rejected. The man,
Sexagesima. 389
whose heart is divided between God and the world, and whose entangle- ment in the thorns of riches and plea- sures draws off his attention to the du- ties of religion, is rejected. He
alone, who hears the word of God, and keeps it ; he alone, who seeks the king- dom of heaven in the first place, and makes salvation the great business of his life ; he alone, who, notwithstand- ing the opposition of his own nature, and the influence of public example, serves his Maker in spirit, and in truth, and brings forth fruit in patience; he alone is admitted into the number of the elect, and entitled to the rewards prepared for the saints. — But, my bre- thren, where shall we find men of this description ? That you may be, enabled to form an idea of the comparative smallness of their number, I will de- scribe in detail the obligations of a Christian; and I will examine how far they are observed by mankind in geue-
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390 Sexagesima.
ral. Be attentive, for the subject is appli- cable to every individual in thisassembly. , 1. By the title and character of Christian, which we bear, we are ob- liged to renounce the world and all its pomps, the devil and all his works, the flesh and all its concupiscences. These are our engagements. These are the essential articles of the treaty conclud- ed between us and God. On the ful- filment of these we shall be entitled to the promises, and not otherwise.
In the first place, we engaged in baptism to renounce the world and all its pomps. This engagement we made at the foot of the altar of God ; the Church witnessed, and sealed it ; and on this condition alone received us into the society of the faithful.
But what is this world which we en- gaged to renounce ? I reply, that it is the world, to which the greater part of mankind are attached ; and by this mark we may always distinguish it.
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**
— The world is that multitude of sin- ners, whose desires and fears, whose hopes and solicitudes, whose joys and griefs are excited by the goods or evils of this life alone. The world is that great portion of the human race, who fix their affections on the earth, as if it were their true country ; who dread the world to come, as if it were a land of banishment ; who are less anxious* about their eternal inheritance, than about their temporal pursuits ; who consider death as the greatest of all evils,— the extinction of every hope, and the end of every enjoyment. The world is that temporal kingdom, where Christ is not known, or, if he be known, is not glorified as God; where his max- ims are reprobated, his faithful ser- vants despised, his blessings abused, his sacraments neglected, or profaned, his worship abandoned. This is the world which we have ensrao-ed to re-
o o
nounce, to avoid, to hate, to oppose by
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our good example, and to resist Avith alf our heart, and mind, and strength. This is the world which ought to be crucified to us, that is, ought to be the object of our aversion ; and to which we ought to be crucified, that is, ought to be the objects of its censures and ridicule.
Now, my beloved, in what manner ,do we fulfil this engagement ? Do we loath the enjoyments of the world? Are we grieved at the sight of its abomina- tions, a»d crimes? Do we sigh after our true country, and lament that the time of our pilgrimage is prolonged ? Do we wish to be dissolved, and to be with Christ ? — No : we do nothing of the kind : or rather, we do directly the reverse. Our thoughts and affections are centered in the world : its laws are our laws : its maxims are our maxims : we condemn what it condemns : and we commend what it commends. When I say we, I mean the generality of Christians. I know that there are
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many who complain bitterly of the •world : who accuse it of injustice, in- gratitude, and caprice ; who discharge upon it the coldest venom of invective ; and who describe its errors and abuses in the strongest terms. But, notwith- standing all this, they still continue to Jove it ; they court its favours ; they cannot live without it. Where is the man who can say from his heart that he hates the world, and that he has re- nounced its pleasures, its customs, its maxims, and its expectations ? All are pledged, all, without exception, have entered into a most solemn covenant to do this, and not one will do it.
We engaged, in the second place, to renounce the flesh, and all its irregular inclinations, and desires : that is to say, we engaged to shun indolence and sen- suality ; to resist the cravings of a corrupted heart ; to chastise the boi- dy, to crucify it, and to bring it into^ subjection. This was our vow ; and S5
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we are obliged to fulfil it : it is one of our principal duties : it is inseparable from the character of a Christian. And by whom is it fulfilled ?
Lastly, we engaged to renounce the devil and all his works. If it be ask- ed, what these works are ? I reply, that they are the works which form the history of the most considerable part of our lives. They are ambition, pride, hypocrisy, vain-glory, and deceit : they are fraud, injustice, double-deal- ing, and lies : they are hatred, dissen- sion, envy, and jealousy : they are worldly pomp and show, plays, come- dies, and unprofitable parties of pleasure.
" What !" methinks I hear you say, " is the Christian to be debarred the theatres, and other public places of re- sort ?" Certainly ; if his innocence be . exposed to danger. Every action that we perform must have for its object ^the greater honour and glory of God, or it is not innocent. Every work
Sexagesima. 395
that is not placed to our account in the book of life, is recorded against us. The weakness of human nature, in- deed, requires pastimes and relaxations; but those pastimes and relaxations only are innocent, which may be referred to the honour of God, and which will en- able us to apply with more vigour to our more holy, and more serious duties.
Now, according to this- universally received point of Christian morality, I leave you to decide whether the public amusements, above mentioned, are in- nocent or not. Do they unbend the mind only for a time, and thereby en- able it to apply with more earnestness to the great affair of salvation ? Can they be referred to the greater honour and glory of God ? Is it possible to frequent them through motives of reli- gion and virtue ? No : the most pro- fane Christian would blush to make the assertion. Consequently, your inno S6
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cence is not only endangered, but in- jured by them ; and consequently, as often as you frequent them, you vio- late the sacred engagement to renounce the devil and all his works, which you contracted in baptism, and which you ratify by your public profession of the Christian faith.
2. These, my brethren, are our bap- tismal vows. They are not matters of counsel only : they are not what we call pious practices. They are obliga- tions the most essential — the most in- dispensable. And yet how few ob- serve them { how few give them a place in their thoughts ! Ah ! did you but seriously reflect on the extent of the duties, which the name of Christi- an imposes on you : were you but once thoroughly convinced that you are obliged to hate the world,, and ail that is not God ; to live the life of faith, to maintain a constant watchfulness over your senses, to be conformed to Christ
Sexagesima. 397
crucified ; did you but seriously con- sider, that the great command of lov- ing God with your whole heart and strength, is violated by every thought, every action, which is not referred to him ; oh, you would be seized with fear and trembling ; you would shud- der at the sight of the immense chaos, which your infidelities have formed be- tween you and God : you would ex- claim with astonishment : " Who can be saved 1 if these are our duties ; if this constant watchfulness, this pure and fervent love are required of every individual, who can be saved !" This would be your exclamation : and I would immediately return this answer ; " Very few indeed will be saved : — you will not be saved, unless you re- form your lives ;— they, who live like you, will not be saved ; — the multitude will not be saved."
Who then will be saved ? The. man,, who, in these days of irreb'gion and
39 8' Sexagesima.
vice, walks in the footsteps of the pri- mitive Christian : — whose hands are in- nocent, and whose heart is pure ; — who has not received his soul in vain, (Ps. xxiii. 4.) ; — who has successfully struggled against the torrent of world- ly example, and purified his soul; — who is a lover of justice, and swears not deceitfully against his neighbour, (ib.) ; — who is not indebted to double-deal- ing for an increase of fortune ; — who returns good for evil, and heaps favours on the enemy that had laboured for his destruction ; — who is candid and sincere, and never .sacrifices truth to interest, nor conscience to civility ; — who is charitable to all in distress, and a friend to all in affliction ; — who is resigned in adversity, and penitent even in prosperity.
He, my dear brethren, will be sav- ed ; and he only. Oh ! how alarming is this truth ! And nevertheless, all, the chosen few only excepted, who
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work out their salvation with fear and trembling, all, I say, live on HI the greatest peace and tranquillity of mind. They know that the greater numher is lost ; but they flatter them- selves with the assurance that, al- though they live like the world, they shall die like the just : each one sup- poses that God will favour him with a particular grace : each one looks for- ward with confidence to a happy death. These are your expectations like- wise. I will, therefore, say no more about the rest of mankind, but address myself solely to you, as if you wer& the only inhabitants of the earth. Now this is the thought which occupies my mind, and strikes terror into the very centre of my soul. I suppose that the last day is arrived ; that the trumpet has sounded ; that you are risen from the dead ; that you are assembled toge- ther in this place to wait the coming of the great Judge; that the heavens are
400 , Sexagesimq.
about 'to open ; and that you will shortly behold the Son of Man descend- ing with great power and majesty to pronounce upon you the sentence ei- ther of election or reprobation. — Rouse your attention, my brethren. Are your accounts in order r Are you prepared for the trial ? Are you ready to meet your Judge ? Do not say that you will prepare yourselves hereafter. This is a delusive hope. What you are now, the same will you probably be at the hour of death. The intention of reforming your conduct, which has so long occupied your thoughts without effect, will continue without effect as , long as you live. This is testified by the experience of ages.
Now I ask you ; — I ask you with dis- may, and without meaning to separate my lot from yours ; were the Son of Man to appear in this assembly, and separate the good from the bad, the in- nocent from the guilty, the penitent
Sexagesima. 401
from the impenitent, how many would he place on his right hand ? Would he place the greater number of us ? Would he place one half? Formerly he could not find ten just men in five populous cities : and could he find as many, do you think, in this small as- sembly ? How many, then, would he place on his right ?-— You cannot give an answer : neither can I. Thou alone, my God, knowest thy elect — thy cho- sen few. — But if we cannot say who will be placed on his right hand, we can say, at least, that sinners will be placed on his left. — Who, then, are sinners ? They may be divided into four classes. Let every individual at- tend, and examine whether he may not be ranked in one of them. 1st, They who are immersed in vice, and will not reform : 2d, They who intend to reform, but defer their conversion : 3d, They who fall into their former ha- bits, as often as they pretend to renounce
402 Sexagesima.
them : 4th, They who think that they need not a change of life. These are the reprobate : separate them from the rest df this assembly, for they will be separated from them at the last day. Now, ye chosen servants of my God — ye remnant of Israel, lift up your heads ; your salvation is at hand : pass to the right : separate yourselves from this chaff, which is destined for the fire. — — O God ! where are thy elect ! How few of us will be comprehended in the number !
Beloved Christians, our perdition is almost certain ; and why are we not alarmed ? If a voice from heaven were heard in this temple, proclaiming aloud that one of us here present would be consigned to eternal flames, without disclosing the name; who would not tremble for himself ? who would not examine into the state of his soul ? who would not, like the apostles at the &st supper, turn to Jesus, and say : Is it /,
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Lord ? And, if time were still at our disposal, who would not endeavour to secure his own soul by the tears, and sighs of repentance ?
Where then is our prudence ? Per- haps not more than ten of my present auditory will be saved : perhaps not even so many : perhaps . . . But, O God ! I dare not,' I cannot fix my eyes on the dreadful, unfathomable abyss of thy justice: — perhaps not more than one of us will see heaven. And yet, we all flatter ourselves that we shall be the happy souls that will escape : we all imagine, without considering either our virtues or vices, that God will have mercy on us in preference even to those who are more innocent. and de- serving.
Good God ! how little are the ter- rors of thy justice known in the world ! The elect in every age withered away through fear, when they contemplated the severity, and die depth of thy judg-
404 Sexagesima.
ments on the sins of men. Holy soli- taries, after a life of the severest pe- nance, were terrified at the thought ; and, when stretched on the bed of death, shook their hard couch of po- verty and mortification by the tremb- ling motions of their emaciated frame. They turned towards their weeping brethren, and with 'a faultering and dying voice asked them : " Do you think that the Lord will have mercy on me?" Their fears bordered on despair, and their minds were in the greatest agitation, until Jesus himself appeased the storm, and produced a calm. But now, the man, who has lived like the multitude, who has been worldly — profane — sensual — and unthinking, dies with the assurance of a happy im- mortality : and the minister of God, when summoned to attend him, is ne- cessitated to cherish this false confi- dence, to speak only of the infinite treasures of the mercies of God, and, in
Sexagesima. 405
some measure, to aid and assist him in deceiving himself. — Good God ! what wrath is stored up by thy justice against the day of wrath !
What conclusion, my beloved, are you to draw from these alarming truths ? That you are to despair of sal- vation ? God forbid. The impious man alone, in order to indulge his pas- sions with less restraint, endeavours to convince himself that salvation is un- attainable, and that all mankind will perish with him. My object is, 'that you should be undeceived, respecting that almost universally received opi- nion, that it is not unlawful to do what is done by others, and that universal custom is a sufficient rule for your con- duct. My object is, that you should be convinced, that in order to be sav- ed, you must live in a different manner from the generality of mankind, that your piety must be singular, and that
406
you must be separated from the multi- tude.
When the captive Jews were on the point of departing from their -beloved country for the land of bondage — the great Babylon, the prophet Jeremiah, who was commanded by God to remain in Jerusalem, addressed them in words to this purport : " Children of Israel, when you arrive in Babylon, you will behold their gods T>f silver and gold, borne on the shoulders of the inhabi- tants, and the multitude before and behind adoring them : .but do not you imitate their example ; on the contra ry, say in your hearts, Thou alone, O Lord ! art worthy to be adored" Bar. vi. 6.
My advice to you, at parting, is near- ly in the same words ; and I earnestly exhort you never for a moment to lose sight of it— As soon as you have left the house of God, you will find your-
Sexagesimal. 407
selves in the midst of Babylon. You will behold the idols of gold and sil- ver, before which are prostrated the greater part of mankind: you will see the gods of this world, wealth, glory, and pleasure, surrounded by their nu- merous votaries and adorers : you will witness abuses, errors, and disorders, authorized by univeral example. Then, my beloved brethren, if you are Is- raelites indeed, you must turn to God, and say : Thou alone, O Lord ! art worthy to be adored. I will not take part with people who are strangers to thee : I will follow- no other law but thine. The gods, which the senseless multitude adores, are not gods ; they are the work of men's hands; and they shall perish with them. Thou only art immortal : Thou alone art wor- thy to be adored. The laws of Babylon have no connection with thy holy laws. I will adore thee in the society of thy elect ; and with them I will ardently
408 Sexagesima.
sigh after the heavenly Jerusalem, — the seat of bliss. The world, perhaps, may attribute my conduct to weak- ness, my singularity to vain-glory : but, do thou, O Lord, give me strength to resist the torrent of vice ; and suffer me not to be seduced by evil example. The days of captivity will have an end. Thou wilt remember Abraham, and David, thy servants. Thou wilt deli- ver thy people from slavery, and lead them into Sion. Then shaltThou alone reign over Israel, and over the na- tions that refuse to know thee. Then shall the former things pass away ; and Thou alone shalt remain for ever. Then shall all nations know that Thou alone, O Lord ! art worthy to be adored. "
In order, therefore, to profit by this discourse, you. must be resolved to live differently from the rest of men : you must bear constantly in mind that the greater number are lost :
Sexctgesima. 40<)
you must disregard all customs, which are not consistent with the law of God : you must reflect, that the saints in every age were men of singular lives. Then, after having been dis- tinguished from sinners on earth, you will be gloriously separated from them for all eternity.
VOL. I.
410
QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY.
ON THE FAST OP LENT.
When you fast, be not, like the hypo- crites, sad. — Matt. vi. 16*.
^
Gospel for Ash-Wednesday .
WlTH this gospel, the Church ushers in the solemn fast of Lent. With this gospel she en- courages us to put on the weeds of penance, and to endeavour with united efforts to disarm the wrath of God, to avert his impending judgments, and to expiate our sins. She exhorts us to enter on this holy time without sad- ness ; because, fasting will enable us to triumph over the flesh, and the devil : and ought sadness and grief to
Quinquagesima . 411
be indulged by the warrior who has the means of victory in his power? May our enemy alone repine at the approach of this happy season : may he be sad during these days of propitiation: may he be alarmed at the view of these consolatory appearances of repentance, and tremble at the display of the mer- cies which God has prepared for sin- ners. But you, my beloved, you ought to anoint your heads, and to o_pen your hearts to the feelings of holy joy, and gladness : conquerors are never sorrowful.
There are, indeed, various kinds of sadness. There is a holy sadness — the sadness of repentance, which ad- vanceth the great work of salvation, and is enlivened by the interior consolations of the Holy Ghost. There is likewise the sadness which is alluded to in the words of my text, — the sad- ness of hypocrisy, which observes the letter of the law, and puts on the ap-
T2
4 1 2 Quinquagesirna.
pearance of rigid austerity, in order to gain the applause of men : this is very uncommon in these times. Lastly, there is a sadness produced by the de- pravity of corrupt nature, which re- volts at the idea of self-denial, and re- straint : and this I am grieved to say, is the sadness which is felt by the generality of Christians, and against which it is particularly necessary that you should be guarded.
The consequences of this sadness are obvious, and certain : every frivolous pretext is adduced for the" purpose of obtaining an exemption from the ri- gour of the law.T-In order, therefore, that you may not be led into error on a subject of this importance, I will display the futility of the pretexts which are usually alledged, and lay down in plain terms the conditions, on which alone a dispensation can be lawfully founded.
1. Were I speaking to men who de- spised the laws of the Church on this
, Quinguagesima. 413
head, and disputed her authority in enacting them, I would prove that fasting always was, and always will be necessary for the support of a truly Christian life. I would go back to the pure ages of Christianity, and shew you that religion itself was nourished in the bosom of abstinence, and fast- ing : — I would say, that, after the ascension of our Lord, the disciples assembled in Jerusalem, and devoted their whole time to prayer, and fast- ing : — I would say, that the primitive Christians served the laborious appren- ticeship to martyrdom in the austeri- ties of fasting ; and that, in the midst of the licentiousness of an idolatrous camp, the Christian soldiers assembled together in order to celebrate, with greater solemnity, the fasts prescribed v by universal custom : — I would say, that the emissaries of the persecutors designated the faithful by the paleness of their countenances, and by the odour
T 3
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of sanctitv, and mortification, which
v *
distinguished them from the rest of mankind :-*-! would say, that our mortal enemy, who is ever ready to extract pernicious effects from the most pious observances, stirred up many restless spirits to practise new, and extravagant abstinences, not with a view to the re- paration of the injured justice of God, but with the idea that the meats them- selves were unclean : so strongly was the whole Christian world convinced, that, after the death of the Spouse, the obligation of fasting was indispen- sable.
I proceed, however, on the supposi- tion that I am speaking to men, who are neither rebellious, nor obedient ; who acknowledge the obligation of fasting, but who will not fast ; who do not openly exclaim, with the impious,, / will nut obey, but who, with the men invited to the marriage feast^
Quinquagesima. 415
(Luke xiv. 19.), find some plea or other, to excuse their disobedience.
In order to distinguish truth from falsehood in a subject of this im- portance, it is necessary to state, that, since the law of fasting is made, and received, it is impossibility alone that can justify the infringement of it: by impossibility, I mean, a difficulty founded on evident and considerable danger: for the Church established the law with the intent, not to destroy in this world, but to save in the next.
This being the truth, let us now examine your excuses. You say, in the first place, with great assurance and boldness, that you are dispensed with fasting for sufficient reasons; that your conscience does not reproach you on that head ; and that, if you had nothing but the transgression of this precept to answer for before God, you could present youselves at his tri bumal without fear : or, in other words, T4
4 1 6 Quinquagesima.
that you have naturally a weak con- stitution, that you are not able to undergo the severities of fasting, and that the little health you enjoy, is en- tirely owing to care and precaution.
If it be true, that your weakness is such as you describe it to be, I will ask, whence did it originate ? Was itr not from this over solicitude and care to preserve it ? - Was it not brought on by that soft, voluptu- ous life which you have led? Was it not occasioned by habits of indolence, •and by constantly indulging your sensual appetite in all its caprices ? Were you, however, to examine impar- tially into the state of your health, y^u perhaps would discover that the con- stant aversion you feel for self-denial, and penance, has led you into an error on this subject ; and that you imagine that your condition is weak, because you never have had piety and resolu- tion sufficient to induce you to try its strength. If this be the case, as it
Quinquage&ima. 417
probably is, can you pretend that the very reason, which makes penance more necessary, is a sufficient plea for. a dispensation ? Your imaginary weak- ness is itself a crime, and ought to be expiated by extraordinary austerities,, instead of exempting you from those which are common to all the faithful-
If the Church were to make any dis~ tinction amongst her children; if she1 was inclined to grant privileges to some and not to others, it would be to those,. Avhose lowly, and dependent station exposes them to the hardships and -fa- tigues of toilsome labour, — who. suf- fer from the severities of seasons, from. hunger, from thirst, from public op-- pressions, anrf from private" wrongs, — who have only a distant view of. the pleasures which this world affords,-— and whose happiness has attained its- oreatest height — when a bare suffi-
CD O
ciency is procured for themselves and:
families. But as for those, on \vhorm
T~ ••>••
418 Q u inquagesima.
the world has lavished its choicest gifts, — whose greatest unhappiness arises from the satiety and disgust, which is inseparable from sensual feli- city ; they can pretend to no other dis- tinction than that of increased auste- rity, and a prolongation of the canoni- cal rigours of penance.
But what is their conduct ? The opulent, the independent, the higher classes of society, — the men, who alone seem to need repentance, — the men, for whom this penitential time is prin- cipally intended, are almost the only ones who plead for a dispensation : whilst the poor artisan, the indigent labourer, who eats his bread in the sweat of his brow, — whose days of feasting and merriment would be to the rich man days of penance, and mortification, whilst he, I say, bows down with respect and submission to this holy law, and, even in his poverty, re- trenches from his usual pittance, and
Quinquagesima. 4 1 9
' -
makes the time of Lent a time of ex- traordinary suffering and penance. But, my God ! the time will come, when Thou wilt openly espouse the cause of thy holy law, and confound the advocates of human concupiscence. The Pharisees in the gospel disfigured their faces, in order that their fasting might be remarked by men : but this is not the hypocrisy of the present day ; no : after a year spent in excess, in murmurings, and in sin, the pam- pered disciples of a crucified Jesus put on a pale, a weak appearance at the commencement of this holy time, for the sole purpose of setting up a plausi- ble pretext to violate in peace the law of fasting, and abstinence.
My dear brethren, has the tender- ness of your constitution ever deterred you from taking -part in any worldly enjoyment r Ah ! you can bear the fatigues of company, and entertain- ments j you can overcharge yourselves
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420 ; Quinquagesima.
with surfeiting, and wine ; you can submit to the painful consequences of high living, and intemperance ; you can keep irregular hours, and take other liberties, which would be felt by the strongest constitution. It is fast- ing alone that you cannot endure; then only are you particularly solicit- ous for your health, when penance is required.
Is it for me only, says the Lord by his prophet, is it for me only that you refuse to suffer, O house of Israel ! You are indefatigable, and strong in the ways of iniquity, but in my service you are weak, and discouraged by the least difficulty. Tell me if you have any thing to justify yourselves, (Isa. xliii. 26.)
So it is, my beloved friends ; and so it always has been : pleasures are never incommodious. The purchase of what you love, is always cheap, The slavery of the world, of riches, and of ini-
Quitiquagesima.
quity, is not painful, because you are worldly, ambitious, and sensual. But, if you could once divest yourselves of this spirit of the world, and imbibe the spirit of Christ ; then, your strength would not fail you in his service ; then, you would be convinced that the law of fasting was not a cruel and destruc- tive law ; then, you would acknow- ledge that the observance of your duties was not incompatible with the care of your health ; then, with Daniel and the three children, you would ex- perience that forbidden meats were not, by any means, necessary for the pre- servation of your strength, and vigour. Supposing, however, that fasting does weaken your corporal faculties ; is it not just that you should stamp the painful seal of the cross on , a body, which has so often been marked with the shameful characters of the beast ? Is it not time that members, which have served iniquity, should at length..
422 Quinquagesima.
be subservient to justice ; and that grace should he strengthened in your infirmity ?
The law of fasting was instituted for the express purpose of weakening the body : and if you experience sensa- tions of languor, and faintness, it is no more than was intended : you ha\7e reason to rejoice on that account, for your merit will be proportionate to your patient suffering. The end, there- fore, proposed by the law can never be a proper reason for a dispensation.
.You perhaps may say, that the Church has approved your reasons, and released you from the obligation of fasting by the ministry of your director.
To this your own conscience will reply, that a dispensation, obtained contrary to the intention, and spirit of the Church, is void ; and that the ob- ligation is still in force : that is to say, that the dispensation, which is granted
Quinquagesima. 425
without a sufficient cause, is not a dispensation in the sight of God. This is the doctrine of the saints. If, there- fore, your reasons are not candidly, and truly of that nature as to require a relaxation in your favour, you im- pose upon your pastors, and you are transgressors every time that you avail yourselves of this fraudulent and un- just dispensation.
The Church, indeed, is not ignorant of the imposition. She sees with grief, that almost the whole of the submis- sion of these loose and supine Christians consists in extorting her consent to the infringement of her own laws. And if, notwithstanding this convic- tion, she still appear to favour their un- just demands, she is influenced by the fear of driving them to extremities, and is willing to keep them in her com- munion by the simple ties of outward respect and obedience. But woe to the Christians who force her to this afflict-
424 Quinquagesima.
ing alternative. The disease'must be dangerous indeed, when the patient is allowed to choose his own regimen.
2. But allowing that your reasons are just, and that a dispensation is ne- cessary, nevertheless it not unfre- quently happens, that you transgress the law of penance by <the manner in •which you avail yourselves of this dis- pensation of the Church.
It is incumbent on you, as Chris- tians, to lament your inability to ob- serve the law, and to offer up to God the sacrifice" of an humble heart, as a kind of compensation for the corporal penance, which you are unable to en- dure.' Esther called on God to witness her necessity, and expressed her de- testation, when she was obliged to par- take of the profane meats, and ban- quets of the uncircumcised. Urias exclaimed, when he was pressed by his sovereign to go down to his own house, and enjoy the pleasures of a momentary
Quinquagesima. 425
repose. What I shall I eat and drink, while Israel and Juda are enduring the severities of the camp, (2 Kings xi. 11.)
Are these, my beloved, your senti- ments ? Do you exclaim : " why am, I constrained to spare this criminal flesh, while the Church is clothed in sack- cloth, and ashes, while my fellow mem- bers in Christ are walking courage- ously on in the holy paths of penance ? Why, O Lord ! have I not sufficient strength to satisfy thy justice — I, who have had sufficient strength to offend thee? Why was I not endued with a bodily frame, capable of enduring every degree of fatigue, and torture, that the instrument of my crimes might be made the instrument of my punish- ment ?"
Ah ! if you were animated with the true spirit of piety, you would blush at a distinction so little merited by your past life : you would consider such a singularity as a kind of ana-
426 Quinquagesima.
thema, — as a leprosy, which caused you. to be banished from the society, and communion of the body of the faithful, and you would endeavour to compensate for your bodily in- firmities by the strength and vigour of your interior piety.
In the second place, you must re- flect, that the dispensation from fasting does not include a dispensation from doing penance. The Church has no intention of taking the cross from your shoulders : she is not authorized to do it : she can do no more than les- sen its weight, and proportion it to the strength of the bearer. Lent must be, in some manner or other, a time of penance. St. Paul says, that he, who does not distinguish the eucharistic bread from common food, is guilty -of the body of the Lord : and I say to you, that, whatever your infirmities may be, if you do not make a distinc-
Quinquagesima. 427
tion between the time of Lent, and other times, you are guilty of the law t of fasting.
Now, what distinction do you make ? Do you pray more than at other times ? Are you more charitable to the poor ? Do you soothe the afflictions of the suffering members of Christ, and make amends in their persons for the extraordinary gratifications which your infirmities require ? Do you abstain from lawful pleasures, which are not necessary for your health ? Ah ! my brethren, a compensation must be made. He, who cannot offer a lamb in sacrifice, must offer a pair of doves. The justice of God must be satisfied. If you cannot crucify your flesh by fasting, you must chastise it by ab- staining from unnecessary pleasures : you must mortify your turbulent pas- sions by retirement : you must have less communication with the world : you must be more attentive to your
428 Quinquagesima.
domestic concerns : you must be more assiduous in frequenting the place of worship, in receiving the sacraments, and in performing works of mercy,: you must be more circumspect in your whole conduct. This, says St. Chry- sostom, is the fast, which the Church requires from the infirm. To comply with this, neither health, nor strength are requisite : a firm faith, and the fear of God, will alone enable you to per- form it. But, alas ! a firm faith, and the fear of God, are precisely the virtues to which you are strangers. You ob- ject to jsufterings of every description. You imagine that you are freed from all restraint, as soon as you are dis- pensed with fasting : and because you are not able to comply with the whole precept, you joyfully conclude that you are not obliged to do any thing.
There are many, I know, who say, that fasting is a matter of no great im- portance : that the great point is. tc*
Quinquagesima. 429
be good moral men : and that, as to food, whether it be this or that, whe- ther they take three meals or one, at can be of no such consequence in the sight of God, as to justify the declama- tions of the Church, or be a sufficient reason to subject the faithful to so many inconveniences, and vexations.
Thus, the children of the world are not satisfied with merely violating the law of fasting, and abstinence, they proceed even to abuse ; they vilify it, by giving it the name of prejudice which custom has established : and they put on the appearance of reason, in order to infringe it without scruple. But what do they degrade ? They de- grade the most venerable tradition of the Church, the most ancient, and the most universal point of discipline, which has descended to us from our forefathers. The respectable institu- tion of fasting,- established by the apostles, consecrated by the custom of
430 Qmnquagesima.
ages, honoured by the examples of pa- triarchs, and prophets, and of Jesus Christ himself, is nothing more, in their language, than a popular devotion —a pious prejudice, of which enthu- siasm alone can exact a rigorous, and minute observance.
These, however, I trust, are not the sentiments of any individual of this assembly. If, therefore, I will say in conclusion, if your infirmities require a dispensation, indulge not beyond the calls of necessity. Let your repasts savour of the frugality of this time of penance ; let them be stampt, in some part or other, with the seal of mortifi- cation. Remember, that, although the Church consents that you do not ac- company Moses on the mountain to fast the forty days, she expects that, while you remain in the plains below, you neither partake of the profane en- joyments, the excesses, and the festive sports of the Israelites, nor unite with
Quinquagesima. 43 1
them in the adoration of the golden calf.
Let us, my beloved brethren, enter into the true spirit of this holy time. Ah ! can you remain unrnoved at the affecting spectacle, which will shortly be displayed before you? When you behold the Church in affliction, and clothed in the weeds of mourning and sorrow; when you behold her ministers prostrate, and weeping be- tween the porch and the altar; when you behold your brethren armed with the weapons of penance, and lighting with determined resolution against flesh and blood, will you be able to refrain from uniting with them ? Will you have resolution sufficient to continue immersed in the enjoyment of sensual pleasures ? — If the body cannot take part in the penitential works of the faithful, at least change your hearts, and be converted to the Lord. If you cannot rend, by fasting, the garment
432 Quinqu'agesima.
of flesh, which encompasseth you, rend your hearts, says the spirit of God, by the tears of grief, and compunction. Surpass your brethren, in the disposi- tions of your minds, if you cannot fol- low them in the exercises of the body. — In a word, live more holily than they, and you will fast more profitably. — Thus, you will glorify God in your infirmities, and in the end receive the reward, which is promised to the truly penitent.
433 FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT.
ON THE ABUSES OF FASTING.
And when he had fasted forty days and
forty nights, he was afterzvards
hungry. *-„'.. *'. Matt, iv. 2.
WHAT an exam- ple, dear Christians, is displayed before our eyes in die gospel of this Sunday ! Innocence itself— the Lamb without spot — the Holy One of Israel, fasts in the midst of a dreary solitude, ! He fasts, not during a small portion of the day, nor from one only kind of food, like his pretended <lisciples of these times ; but Jie fasts during the pro- tracted space of forty days, and forty VOL. i. U
434 First Sunday
nights ; he abstains from every species of corporal nourishment. Prayer and contemplation are his only food : tears, and supplications for lost man, are his only employment. The anguish, and horror excited by the view of the innu- merable sins, and of the obstinate im- penitence of mankind, render him in- sensible to the cravings of hunger and thirst : and the ardent longings of his soul to effect our deliverance from them, cause him to submit with alacrity and joy to every pain, to every labour and fatigue.
Can we, my beloved, view this exam- ple of the Son of God with indifference at this holy time ? Can we, the authors of his sufferings, — the victims, who alone ought to be devoted to sacrifice, can we, I say, refuse to mingle our tears with his ? Can we steel our hearts against the sorrows of repentance ? He suffered voluntarily ; and he suffered for our good alone : we are command-
of Lent. 435
ed to suffer ; and to suffer for our own salvation. What more powerful in- citement could be proposed to us, than the sight of a God-Man fainting under the languors of fasting ? But, alas ! I fear, that the greater number of Chris- tians, instead of being inspired with a holy ardour, are solicitous only to avoid the rigours of the law, and to add to the mitigations which the relaxed morals of our forefathers have intro- duced.
My object, in thus introducing the subject of fasting to your notice a se- cond time, is to lay before you the ex- tent of your obligations at this season, both as Christians, and as sinners.
1. There is hardly any precept more universally abused than is the precept of fasting. At a time, when the judg- ments of God are heavy upon the na- tions of the earth, and fasting and prayer are the only means of restrain- ing his just indignation, Christians are
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436 - First Sunday
solicitous only for an increase of the relaxations of the Church, and for a total abolition of every thing that is painful to flesh and blood. They say, that, in the first ages, when innocence and simplicity prevailed, severity of discipline was seasonable; but that, hi these times, when immorality has spread its baneful influence on every side, a greater latitude, or even free liberty in the article of penance, is the only pro- per system to be adopted.
Instead of entering into a refuta- tion of this irreligious principle, — a principle which, I trust, is not enter- tained by any one in this assembly, I will examine what bounds the Church has thought proper to prescribe to her condescension, and I will endeavour to distinguish those relaxations, which a vitiated custom has introduced, from the mitigations, which she either au- thorizes or tolerates. These may be collected from the motives which
of Lent. 437
first gave rise to the institution of the law.
The law of fasting was instituted for the express purpose of crucifying the flesh, in order, says St. Chrysostom, to fortify the soul against future temp- tations, and to contribute to the expia- tion of past sins. Our fasting, there- fore, must be sufficiently rigorous to answer this desirable end ; otherwise, our fasting will be fruitless.
The flesh is crucified, and the passi- ons are weakened, either by the length of abstinence, by the simplicity of food, or by frugality in meals. — Excuse the detail into which I must enter ; it is indispensable ; and I will be as con- cise as possible.
The length of abstinence is the first. — The primitive Christians never broke their fast before sunset : and for this their slender meal they prepared them- selves by an uninterrupted application to works of piety. They frequently U3
438 First Sunday
w.atched in the temple, singing hymns and canticles over the tombs of the martyrs, during the whole preceding night. This was their fast; and by the length and severity of their sufferings, they succeeded in weakening their flesh, and in opposing an effectual bar- rier to their criminal passions. — But, my beloved brethren, what benefit do we reap from the severity of our fasts ? What are our fasts ? In addition to the indulgence of the Church, which has advanced the hour of repast, and has, moreover, tolerated a small refection in the morning, and at night, we take the most unwarrantable licences. Our whole attention is apparently absorbed in devising means to arrive at the time of meal without pain or languor. We avoid the craving of hunger with the greatest care ; not considering that the fast even of our Saviour was not exempt from- it. And if, notwithstanding our care, we feel a slight faintness and de-
of Lent. 439
i
bility, we gladly take alarm for the safety of our health, and plead for a dispensation.
But, my beloved, do you not know, that at this time you ought, with the Royal Prophet, to prevent the rising sun, in order to prolong your fast, and to unite your prayers with those of the Church ; that you ought scrupulously to offer to the Lord the first fruits of a day which is to be sanctified by pe- nance, and that you ought to put to profit every moment of this time of grace and salvation?
Not sufficiently gratified with these liberties and relaxations, you frequent- ly make it a subject of enquiry, whether the fast is injured or broken by drink- ing out of meal-time ? I reply in the first place, that, it being the intent of the law of fasting, to mortify the sen- sual appetites, and particularly the taste, every liberty, between meals, which is favourable to this sense, is a
440 First Sunday
kind of infringement of the law. I reply in the second place, that every mitigation of the pains of abstinence is contrary to the spirit of the law. — But, supposing that the unlawfulness of it were only doubtful, would you be pru- dent in exposing yourselves to the danger ? This, at least, is incontesti- ble, that these mitigations are of new date; and that example can neither justify an abuse, nor constitute any thing like a prescriptive right in oppo- sition to a positive injunction.
Allowing, however, for argument sake, that these relaxations are inno- cent ; nevertheless, out of respect for this holy time, you ought to abstain from them. You have many unlawful gratifications to atone for; and when will you atone for them, if, even in Lent, you will not refrain, in the spirit of piety and penance, from things which you deem to be lawful at other times? — Do not, my beloved friends,
of Lent. 441
suffer yourselves -to be so very easily imposed upon : our fasts are already so much relaxed by the tolerance of the Church, that we cannot pass the bounds which she has prescribed, even in the most trifling degree, without in- curring the guilt of venial sin. Her indulgence has been extended to the utmost li nits, and beyond them we cannot take one step without trans- gressing.
2. In the second place, what shall we say of the simplicity of food, and of the frugality in meals, which ought to be observed at this holy time ? In Lent, says St. Leo, we should live sparingly ; we should feed the poor members of Christ with what we retrench from our tables; and our frugality, as the apos- tle insinuates, should impart abund- ance to our suffering, brethren. — But is this our rule of conduct? The fact is, and it neither can, nor ought to be dis- sembled, that we seek to gratify the.
U5,
442 First Sunday
sensual appetite as much in Lent as at other times. We procure every deli- cacy that our means will permit : and if we be so situated, that we cannot procure so great a variety as we wish, we either violate the fast by taking meat, or we forfeit the merit of it by our impatience and complaints.
I say nothing of our temperance in the one meal allowed : for we seldom prescribe any other limits to our appe- tite, than what are suggested by sen- sual avidity. In what part of
our fast, then, is any merit to be found ? In the morning, the genera- lity, so far from adhering strictly to what is tacitly allowed in this king- dom, and which is very little, abstain only from butter, and take their fill nearly as usual. At the great regular meal of the day, every thing is given up to the gratification of the appetite. - And it is known that their collations, as they are called, do, in point of quantity at least, differ but little from
of Lent. 443
their common evening refreshments : sensuality, indeed, they cannot indulge, because there is no tempting variety of food, but they eat unsparingly of what there is. — Thus, abstaining from what are called white meats at night -and morning, and from flesh meat once or twice in the week oftener than usual, is the only penance that we perform in Lent : or in other words, the relaxa- tions, which our forefathers would have* considered as a grievous infringement of the precept, we consider as the high- est point of observance.
You are well acquainted, my bre- thren, that the Church existecl a thou- sand years before any indulgence waS granted to the faithful. One repast, taken in the evening with thanksgiv- ing, terminated the abstinence of the whole day. And then, what a sorry repast ! It consisted of herbs and ve- getables : a repast of mourning, and penance; where every thing breathed U6
444 First Sunday
the mortification of Jesus. Pious con- versations, spiritual reading, and ex- hortations to martyrdom, were the only seasoning ; and they eat rather to pro- long their sufferings, and to satisfy nature, than to flatter sensuality.
The diminution of charity in the breasts of the greater numher of her children, obliged the Church in after ages to relax from the rigour of her , discipline in this point : she, however, acted as, creditors are accustomed to act with their bankrupt and insolvent debtors ; she made a composition with their tepidity ; she saved what she could of the wreck, and acquitted them of the rest with regret.
Every indulgence, therefore, which the Church allows in addition to the one meal, is a favour which she has grant- ed through necessity. Our precau- tions not to exceed cannot be too ri- gorous. But where are the men,
who are solicitous to keep within the
of Lent. 445
J *
narrow limits ? Alas ! few of this de- scription are to be found : there are none, I fear, except a small number of retired souls, penitent solitaries, chaste and tender virgins, habituated to the yoke of the Lord from their infancy. From appearances, one would judge that severe discipline was intended for them alone ; and that criminal, world- ly-minded men, after a life of wicked- ness and excess, were authorized to mi- tigate and retrench every remnant of penitential austerity.
Such, my brethren, is our fast of Lent. Without the smallest intention to exaggerate, such it is as I have de- scribed it : such and no better. This, then, in its fullest extent, is the entire course of what has always been consi- dered as the first and greatest of all our penitential labours. And these are the offerings which we make to God: these the remains of that venerable institu- tion^ which has been handed down to
* 446 First Sunday
us from the earliest times of our apos- tolic ancestors : these the fasts, for- merly so famous amongst Christians, and consecrated by the memorable ex- amples of Moses, of Elias, and of Christ himself.
3. I will not, however, dwell on this discouraging subject any longer, but continue the series of instructions which I had formed for your benefit at the commencement of this penitential season. Let me exhort you, therefore, in the first place, to bear in mind that your works of self-denial and mortifi- cation, at this time, must be devoted to the expiation of the pleasures and crimes of the past year. — According to the gospel, indeed, the whole- life of a Christian should be devoted to mortifi- cation. But in these days of degene- racy, the~ Church despairs of inculcat- ing with success the necessity of an uninterrupted course of penance ; and therefore, she insists particularly on the
of Lent. 447
due observance of this time, lest the spirit of penance should be totally ex- tinguished in the breasts of her chil- dren — Fulfil, then, with alacrity this easy course of penance which she im- poses on you : and may the trivial suf- ferings you will endure supply for every other deficiency. Submit with joy to so lenient a law. Do not mur- mur under so slight a yoke ; and do not exaggerate the inconveniences you may experience, nor complain of the rigours of this relaxed remnant of primitive discipline.
Remember, likewise, that as the ob- ject of the fast is to satisfy the justice of God for your former infidelities, you must be particularly on your guard against the commission of fresh crimes. If you are not, you destroy with one hand, what you raise with the other ; you offend your Judge, at the time that you are endeavouring to appease him. — What will it profit you to ab-
448 First Sunday
stain from meats, which are good in; themselves, which God hath created, and which may be lawfully eaten at other times, if you abstain not from sin, which, at all times, and in all seasons, is strictly forbidden by the law of God? What will your fasting and abstinence avail you, if they are not accompanied with purity of conscience, which alone can insure you a reward from the great Searcher of hearts ? Oh ! be not de- ceived ; suffer what you will, unless you refrain from sin, God will pay no regard to your sufferings : fast as ri- gorously as you please, God, says the prophet,, will reject your fasts. For<, can you suppose, even for a moment, that fas-ting consists wholly and entire- ly in. abstaining from forbidden food ? This was the fast of the Jews, who foli- lowed only the letter of the law, which killeth. The fast of Christians is sanctified by renouncing the ways of sin, and is consummated by subduing
of Lent. 449
the passions. — If, therefore, you are not more chaste, more humble, more charitable, more patient, you fast not, or at least you fast in vain. The law of abstinence was instituted to promote a reformation of your lives ; and if you reform not, you do not fulfil the law, or, at least, you fulfil it without profit. Remember, in the third place, that, as it is your duty, at this time, to satis- fy the justice of God, you are not on- ly to avoid sin, but you are required to refrain from amusements, which may,, perhaps, be innocent, and lawfully in- dulged at other times. You are now public penitents, striving to disarm the anger of the Lord. Tears, silence, prayers, are the only occupations suit- ed to your penitential course. Plays, parties of pleasure, indolence, and un- necessary pastimes are forbidden. If you partake of them, you renounce the character of true penitents ; you. abandon the enterprise, you interrupt
450 First Sunday
your course. Yes : you violate the law of Lent, as often as you mingle the pleasures of the world with the holy af- flictions of penance.
Lastly, remember, that it is the in- tention of the Church, that you pre- pare yourselves during these days of penance, for the grace of the resurrec- tion, and for the participation of the Lamb of God, the true Christian pas- sover. — Begin, then, betimes, to eradi- cate your vicious habits. Begin, im- mediately, to abstain from the sins to which you have been hitherto addict- ed, and which you will lament at the feet of God's ministers at the conclusi- on of this season. For why should you defer your preparation for the adora- ble sacrament till the festival is at
' V • ' ^ ^
hand ; and either expose yourselves to the danger of an unworthy commu- nion, or 'compel the judges of your conscience to refuse you the bread of heaven, at the time when they are
of Lent. 451
breaking it for the rest of your bre- thren ? — Begin, I say, betimes : try your strength ; try beforehand, whe- ther your resolutions are sufficiently firm to ensure your fidelity to the pro- mises of amendment which you will then make to God. It is a dreadful thing to be exposed to the danger of sacrilege and perjury. Fight reso- lutely ; and prepare yourselves in such a manner, that you may be able to al- ledge the past as an earnest for the faithful performance of your promises for the future. The time that intervenes is certainly not too long for your pre- paration, after the life that you have led. The space of forty days is not more than is necessary for purifying your souls from the defilement of sin, and putting things in order for the re- ception of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
Hearken to the admonition of the apostle read on this day : Behold now
452 First Sunday
is the acceptable time : behold now is the day of salvation, 2 Cor. vi. 2. Shake off immediately the odious yoke under which you have hitherto groaned; and enter seriously on the ways of penance. You have never experienced any real pleasure in the paths of sin. The days, in which you seemed to enjoy them, are gone. The charm, that glittered be- fore your eyes, is vanished; and no- thing remains but the agonies of re- morse in this world, and the prospect of eternal misery in the next. What are the advantages you -have derived ? * Where are the fruits you have reaped from your multiplied excesses ? Ah [ you forged new chains to aggravate your slavery ; you prepared fresh in- gredients to embitter your cup withal* Let the experience of the past unde- ceive you; and return at length to the Lord. Return to him for the love of virtue; but if that motive be insuf- ficient to influence your determine
of Lent. 453
tion, fix your eyes on the vanity and emptiness of all the pleasures of ini- quity, and return to him on that ac- count.
Great God! I ackno\dedge this day in thy presence, that I have never enjoyed any real pleasure at a distance from thee: may thy holy name be for ever blessed. Reject not these feeble commencements of my repent- ance. I have run with sinners, and have trod in all their ways. But, my God, I here confess that all the plea- sures of the world were insufficient to satisfy my desires ; and therefore I renounce them for ever. To acknow- ledge that this were the motive of my return to thee, would overwhelm me with confusion, were I not convinced that it was thy grace, O merciful God 1 that embittered my palate, and rendered insipid all the delights which the world presented to me. For, how many souls are there, who are
454 First Sunday of Lent.
never disgusted with vanity, never wearied with iniquity ? How many souls are there, who are buried in a profound sleep even to the end ; who open not their eyes until time is no more; until, struck with the ago- nies of death, and already judged, they are on the point of appearing be- fore thy terrible tribunal r
Increase, O God, these first symp- toms of disquietude, which thy grace has excited in my soul : increase them, I beseech thee, and cause me at length to feel that happy anxiety, which lead* to true repentance. Add to the disre- lish of unlawful pleasures, that true love of justice and virtue, which will complete thy triumph over a corrupted heart, and from a vessel of wrath, change it into a vessel of election and honour.
455
SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT.
ON THE MOTIVES FOR A CHANGE OF LIFE.
This is the will of God, your sanctifica- tion. T.v ''.•'.. . 1 Thess. iv. 3.
whose mer- cies seem to be more abundant in pro- portion as our iniquities increase, com- missions me again to declare to you, that in the dispensations of his justice he has your sanctification. alone in view.
In the old law, when his people had abandoned the ways of virtue, He sent his prophets to announce that his avenging arm was extended ; and, by
456 Second Sunday
the terror of his threats, He stemmed the course of their crying enormities.
Then Jerusalem cloathed herself
in sackcloth and ashes : her priests wept between the porch and the altar : her elders assembled in the temple, and with their enfeebled voices invok- ed the God of Israel : the bride neg- lected the ornaments of her state : the desolate virgins made the air resound with their sighs and lamentations : and the Lord, moved by their tears and re- pentance, restrained his arm, and look- ed down with pity and compassion on that unfaithful city.
Our ministry, in these days of salva- tion, is the same. As all flesh hath cor- rupted its ways, he sends us, as he for- merly sent the prophets, not to an- nounce future calamities, but to excite you to repentance by the view of the chastisements which he has already in- flicted on the Christian world. He en- deavours to draw you to himself, not by
of Lent. 457
threats, but by the evils which he has scattered with profusion around you. — We are not, however, sent by an im- placable Judge, but by a God, who pities your blindness, who wills your sanctification, and who opens to you the bosom of his eternal mercies.
Attend, therefore, beloved Christi- ans, to the voice of the Lord. Behold now is the acceptable time ; harden not your hearts. Be converted to me, saith the Lord, in fasting, and weep- ing, and supplications : rend your hearts, and not your garments ; and be converted to the Lord your God, because he is compassionate, and rich in mercies, and because he is ready, on your repentance, to suspend the cala- mities which his justice has begun to inflict upon you.
•, This is .the day of salvation. The gates of heaven are thrown open : the blood of Jesus pleads power- fully in your behalf: the cross is dis-
VOL. i. X
4.58 Second Sundatf
played before you. Resist not, my beloved friends, these graces of your God : he invites you to return to him by every motive: he strikes terror in- to your souls when you look back on your past sins; he encourages you by the example of Jesus, and of all his elect throughout the world ; he assists you by the prayers of the whole Church; and he terrifies you by the public ca- lamities which his justice has begun to inflict on the earth.
These are the motives which I am commissioned to lay before you, in or- der to hasten your return to God by a sincere and perfect conversion.
1. Were you to call to mind the hisr tory of your past life, you would there alone discover sufficient inducements to determine you to put your house in order without delay against the great day of the Lord. Consider for a mo- ment, what your life has hitherto been. Beginning from the moment that you
of Lent. 459
received your existence from God, what use have you made of your reason, of the powers of your body, and of the ' faculties of your soul ? How did you employ your youthful years? What profit have you reaped from your ta- lents and acquirements ? How have you spent the time which ought to have been employed for heaven ? How have you endured afflictions, losses, and sicknesses ? What use have you made of the mysteries of religion, of its so- lemnities and sacraments, of the in- structions, and of all the other aids with which Christianity has supplied you — aids, which inspired the saints with an increased ardour in their spi- ritual warfare, and by the means of which they were enabled to complete the edifice of a truly Christian life? Take, then, I say, a retrospective view, and you will behold, with astonish- ment, that your whole life has been a continued tissue of excesses, of crimes,
, X2
460 Second Sunday
of tepidity and sloth. If at any time the thread has been broken ; or in other words, if, from time to time, you have listened to the inspirations of heaven, and have felt the glow of divine love in your breasts, you have steeled your hearts against it ; you have quickly re- turned to your former ways, and have added to your other crimes the guilt of turning'your backs on the gracious in- vitations of your Redeemer.
How indispensably necessary for your eternal welfare, my beloved, is a change of life ! And have you as yet fixed the time for your conversion ? Reflect that your days flow rapidly on ; years roll away in quick succession ; youth is vanishing ; and life itself is on the wing. Your friends, your relati- ons, your companions are daily dropping into the grave. You yourselves, per- haps, are only a few paces distant from the same term. The days which have already flown over your head are like a
of Lent.
dream, a vapour which has disap- peared, and left no trace behind. The days you have yet to live will disappear in the same manner, and leave your hands as empty as the former have done. Why not, then, take advan- tage of the present moment ? You have numberless crimes to expiate ; why not accept the mercies of the Lord, now that they are offered to you ? Time is now at your disposal : delay not, for, ere long, time will be no more. , Your experience of the vanity of the world, and of all its fleeting pleasures, has long since convinced you that happi- ness was not to be found in its em- braces : you have discovered that sin, although decked in the most alluring charms, is invariably accompanied by
anxiety, remorse, and misery.- On
what pretexts, therefore, do you defer the reformation of your lives ? Have they not been sufficiently criminal ta induce the necessity of an immediate X3
/ 462 Second Sunday
change ? ' Do you expect that your chains , will break asunder of them- selves? Do you wait for an opportu- nity of doing penance without any lar hour or expence? Do you intend to delay this great work till you are stretched on the bed of death, on the supposition that the sentiments of fear, which will then agitate your souls, will- expiate the sins of your whole lives ? Or, have you renounced the hopes of salvation, like the impious who know not God ? Ah ! beloved Christians, if you had only once been so unfortunate as to fall into mortal sin, a whole life would not have been too much to have devoted to tears and repent- ance. Defiled as you are with' number- less transgressions, can you refuse to consecrate to God the small portion that remains? To-morrow vour soul
tf
will be demanded of you ; and will you dispute with God the small space tliat intervenes? Too happy ought you to
of Lent. 463
esteem yourselves, that the Lord in his mercy will condescend to accept this small remnant ; that he deigns to . stretch out his fatherly hand to you after so long, so dismal a shipwreck ; and that he is ready to embrace and re- ceive you into favour, although so disfigured, and defiled by sin ?
2. Recollect, moreover, that by de- ferring your conversion at this time, you renounce all the merit arising from the due observance of Lent. You fast ; but what will your fast avail you, if you forsake not your evil ways ? What fruit will you gather from your abstinence, from our instructions, and from the penitential exercises K of this time, if you bieak not your chains asunder, if you arise not from the deep abyss into which you have fallen ? The Lord requires in the first instance a change of heart ; and if you refuse him this, neither prayer, nor fasting, HOP X4
464- i A.-';. Second Sunday
alms will be entitled to any merit in his sight.
Should there, however, be any in this assembly who refuse to turn to the Lord at this holy time, I would not be understood to advise them to neglect the law of fasting, under the pretence that the observance of the letter is of no avail to the obstinate sinner : for this would be to advise them to take part with the impious at once. No : dearly beloved,far be it from me. My ad- vice is, that since God continues to in- viteyou to holiness and justice; since he still stretches out his hand to raise you like Lazarus from the grave, and per- haps has decreed that this present Lent should witness the reformation of your lives, and a happy termination of all your miseries and crimes: my advice, 1^ say, is, that you enter the lists coura- geously with the just, and that it he your earnest desire to fight, not as
of Lent. 4&T
beating the air, to run, not as running in vain. By this means, your observ- ance of the letter will be a step, at least, towards a change of life — a pre- paration for the grace of God ; by this means you will unite yourselves ex- teriorly with the just; you will testify your fear of disobeying God ; you will express your respect for his laws ; you \vill pay homage to religion ; in a word, you will have some reason; to hope that, ere long, you will enter the gates of mercy. — But we will pass on to the motives arising from the cross of Jesus, and the examples of the saints.
3. The cross is the only inheritance bequeathed by Christ to his Church. Our union with him in heaven depends on our suffering with him on earth, 2 Tim. 11. 22. 'This is the spirit of our Avocation, and the foundation of our hope. This alone distinguishes us . from the idolatrous nations who know not Christ. Take away from the mo-
466 Second Sunday
rality of the gospel, the maxims of the cross, self-denials, humility, the re- nouncing of our own will, and a tho- rough contempt of the world, and of all its fleetingpleasures; and we might have learnt the rest from the philosophers, whose doctrines abounded with moral precepts, and inculcated the necessity of a strict guard against vice and excess.
- The cross, therefore, of Jesus, pro- perly constitutes the grand character- istic of a Christian, and is the great road to salvation, which he has marked
out to his disciples. •! say, the cross
of Jesus : for the world has its crosses ; our passions have their crosses ; and we possess the art of forming to ourselves crosses of various kinds, that are purely imaginary. These, however, are the . crosses of concupiscence* They are thet punishments due to our passions,, and not the remedies of our crimes. They are the sad consequences of vice,
of Lent. 467
and not the rewards of virtue. And yet, we submit, to them all; but, from the cross of Jesus, we turn away with precipitation and disgust. We refuse to suffer any thing for his sake : we neither resist our passions, our humours, our caprices, nor make the sacrifice of our disorderly inclinations or unr lawful pleasures. We carry the cross of our passions, the cross of our dis- contents, the cross of our hatred and envy ; that is to say, the cross of the world and of the d-evil, and we^attempt not to ease ourselves of the load. Alas ! the cross of Christ is pleasant, and much lighter, and we throw it from us ! the cross of Christ imparts happiness .to those who carry it, and sweetens the crosses of the world, and we will not give it the preference ! the cross of Christ is the price of eternity, and we think it beneath our notice !
What infatuation is this ! How long shall we be the dupes of our own illu- X 6
46*8 Second Sunday
sions, and shut our eyes to the light of heaven ? Why will we not be convinc- ed that the Lord sweetens the yoke we carry for his sake ? We have experi- enced that the yoke of the world is a yoke of iron, which overpowers and destroys : we believe that the wages of sin are death ; and why will we not be- lieve that the grace of God is everlast- ing life. ? %
4. Ah ! be no longer deceived r
o
open your eyes to the light which the Sun of Justice throws around you. Now is the time to arise from sleep. The graces which flow from the cross during this season, offer you resources, which you may not perhaps enjoy at another time. The example of the whole Church invites you, and the prayers of all the elect are offered up in your behalf. The saints crucify their flesh by fasting and retirement ; and their voice, like the voice of innocent blood, ascends to the throne of God,
of Lent. 469
not to solicit his judgments, but to draw down his mercies. Be not, .then, discouraged by the idea of difficulties : but have confidence, and good will. If the corporal mortifications of Judith alone in Israel, reconciled the Lord with his people, and averted the effects of his just indignation, what may you not expect from so many faithful souls, who, in every quarter of the globe; offer up their prayers and austerities to hea- ven for the pardon of your sins ? What may you not expect from so many holy pastors, who contribute their sup- plications and labours to gain you to Christ ? — from so many pious solita- ries, — from so many chaste virgins, who, in the recesses of their retreat, mourn like the dove, and endeavour to disarm the anger of the Lord, and change the thunders of his vengeance
into the mild dews of benediction and grace?
Every assistance, my dear friends, is
470 Second Sunday
offered you. And will you still refuse" to enter into the bosom of the cle- mency of your God ? Will you oppose the efforts with which the whole Gnurch endeavours to recall you to a more Christian and holy life ? Are you. obstinately bent on perishing, at the time that the whole congregation of the just are stretching out their hands to
save you from shipwreck ? • What
more can the Lord do for you ? He tortures you with remorse of consci- ence, and you resist the motions of his grace. He offers you the abundant resources of religion, and you refuse their aid. He unites in your favour the prayers of all his elect, and you render them useless by your obstinate impenitence. He proclaims, by the mouth of his ministers, the promises and the threats of his law, and they, are effaced from your minds the moment they are pronounced. What more can he do -for you? The only remaining
of Lent. 47 1
access to your heart is punishment. He must chastise you. He must execute the threats of his indignation. This is1 his last resource. He 'has spoken in vain : now he must strike, in order to compel you to listen to his voice.
5. Having, therefore, filled up the measure of our iniquities, he has at length poured out the bitter chalice of his wrath on our guilty heads. He has abandoned his inheritance ; he has de- livered up the kingdoms of Christianity to the rage of our mortal enemy, the prince of darkness. He has permitted the dissemination of the most pernici- ous principles, of doctrines the most , destructive of society, of harmony, of peace, and of all our beloved worldly enjoyments. He has permitted the flames of war to ravage nations, and destroy kingdoms. He has not spared even the seat of* Christianity itself. He has empowered misery, wretchedness, and want, to fix their empire on the
472 Second Sunday
ruins of prosperity, happiness, and abundance ; and to heap their horrid gifts with pjofusion on their devoted subjects.
Yes, beloved friends, his wrath has burst over our heads. The enormity of our crimes has ascended to the tri- bunal of his justice. He has looked down from his high sanctuary, says the prophet, (Ps. ci. £0.) and he has beheld the faithful without morals, the nobility without religion, the ministers of the altar without piety, and the fairest of our creation without chastity, and without modesty.
He has looked down from his high sanctuary, and he has beheld adulte- ries, fornications, blasphemy, and im- piety,, honoured and applau'ded in the midst of his people; rapines and injus- tice covered with the specious title of lawful gain and traffic ; the most ex- travagant excesses authorized by the example of the great ; and profusion
of Lent. 473
and luxury every where increasing witn public calamities.
He has looked down from his high sanctuary, and he has beheld the cor- ruption of the whole human race. He has seen them bend their servile knee to mammon, and offer up their sighs and tears, their prayers and supplica- cations at the unhallowed shrine of the golden calf : he has seen the false deity, the molten god, the object of universal adoration. He has seen reli- gion despised, and treated as the low- est weakness ; and the few that still continue to pay their adoration to him, he has seen coming to him with divid- ed hearts, and confining their worship to mere exterior horn age, to a few pray- ers pronounced with their lips, whilst their minds are given up to tepidity, to 4 sensuality, to hatred, animosity, and discontent. In a word, he has seen himself dethroned from the hearts
474 Second Sunday
of his people, and faith almost banish- ed from the earth.
He has^ therefore, discharged the cup of his indignation and wrath 'on the earth: he has let loose the impla- cable spirits, war, pestilence, and fa- mine, to ravage the whole Christian world. t<i$ii -
And what use have we made of these public chastisements ? What measures have we taken to disarm the anger of the Lord ? We render ourselves more criminal by our complaints, impati- ence, and discontent ; and we neither lament, nor do penance for our mur-» ders, our sorceries, our fornications, and our thefts !
Good God 1 how shall I endure the scrutiny of thy justice !„ What hast thou not done for my salvation ? and what have I not done to obstruct the
eifect of thy mercies ? Thou hast
exerted every means to preserve thy
of Lent. 475
x ,-
creature from destruction : Thou hast invited him by thy graces and inspira- tions ; Thou hast stimulated him by anguish of mind, by thwarting his pas- sions, by, disappointing his hopes ; Thou hast endeavoured to compel him by calamities both public and private : Thou hast moreover formed his heart for goodness ; Thou hast instilled into it sentiments of virtue and uprightness — sentiments, which made him shud- der at impiety and excess, which inces- santly chided him in secret for his shameful weaknesses, and importuned him to return to Thee. My God ! what reply shall I make, covered as I am with thy "benefits, and with my
own ingratitude ? Lord, cease not
to stretch out thy hand to my relief. Thou hast already done too much, to suffer thy creature to perish without aid. The more unworthy I am of new favours, the more will I hope in Thee. The wretchedness of my state
4?6 Second Sunday of Lent.
increases my confidence, and the ex- cess of my miseries is the only title on which I claim thy eternal mer- cies.
477
THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT.
ON INCONSTANCY IN THE WAYS OF VIRTUE.
And the last state of that man becometh worse than thejirst. . . . Luke xi. 26*.
THIS parable of the impure spirit is, according to St. Chrysostom, a mystical prophecy of our Saviour, debouncing the final re- probation of the Jews, and the evils which were, in a short time, to befal Jerusalem. He seems to describe the wretched state to which that ungrate- ful city was so frequently reduced by the sins of their fathers, and td display the excess of his mercies in as frequent-
478 Third Sunday
ly hastening to her relief. Hence, he leaves them to conclude, that Jerusa- lem will so often relapse into her infi- delity, that God will at length entirely forsake her ; and her last state will be- come worse than the first.
Let us apply this parable to ourselves. We, like the unfaithful Jerusalem, have been oftentimes delivered from the im- pure spirit ; and as often have we again opened the doors of our hearts to him : we have oftentimes bewailed our of- fences ; and as often have we dried up our tears by a. repetition of the same crimes : we have oftentimes been dis- gusted with the world and its follies, and then we returned to the Lord ; the next day, disgusted with piety, we demanded back our hearts, and re- stored them to the world : our whole lives have been a continued succession - of confessions and relapses. — After so many ineffectual attempts, therefore, we have every reason to fear that God
of Lent. 479
will at length entirely forsake us, and that our last state will become worse than the first. — Perhaps you may ask me, in what consists the danger of this state ? We are not extortioners ; we are not unjust ; we are not adulterers : we fast ; we frequent the sacraments ; we are not like the rest of men; why then should we fear that the Lord will aban- don us ? Is he rendered more inexor- able by the Jew sins which we commit, than by the multiplied -enormities of others ? I answer, that the resources which have frequently wrought the conversion of the most abandoned sin- ners, are too weak to complete the re- formation of the fickle and inconstant Christian ; and that of all characters, the character of inconstancy is the most remote from salvation. This truth I will endeavour to establish in this discourse.
1. Although the spirit of God breathes where he will, and can, by in-
480 Third Sunday
numerable means, draw the rebellious heart of man to himself; although he can work a change in the minds of the most voluptuous, and turn their schemes of pleasure into plans of re- pentance ; there is, nevertheless, a class of men who have frustrated all the merciful designs of Providence, and of whose salvation, consequently, little hopes can be entertained.
This class is composed of those un- steady and fickle Christians, who are virtuous and worldly by turns; whore- lapse into their former crimes as often as they repent of them ; who are, at one time, full of zeal for the honour and glo- ry of God; and at another, full of ardour in the pursuit of vanity and pleasure.
Of the salvation of this numerous class of people, I say, little -hope can be entertained. St. Paul says in ex- press terms, that it is impossible for those who were once enlightened^ have tasted also the heavenly gifts, and were made
of Lent. 481
partakers of the Holy Ghost, have more- over tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, and are fallen away, to be again renewed to pe- nance! Heb.vi. 4,5,6. Candour, indeed, obliges me to acknowledge, that by the word impossible, is meant, not an abso- lute impossibility in the sight of God, for the examples of David and St. Peter are proofs of the contrary, but only, that it is impossible to be renewed to penance by the ordinary means em- ployed by Providence for reclaiming sinners. This position I will prove by a few conclusive arguments.
The first method employed by the Providence of God to withdraw the sinner from the evil of his M'ays, is to infuse into his soul a clear knowledge of the truth. — The children of the world are immersed in the shades of darkness : they are ignorant of the great duties of religion ; they know not that their maxims are false, their pre-
VOL. i. Y
482 Third Sunday
judices unfounded, their customs dan- gerous and sinful. The moment, therefore, that the light of truth bursts upon their sight, they are struck with amazement ; they awake, as it were, from a profound sleep ; they are asto- nished to find that they are ignorant of the only thing which it behoved them to know ; they are startled at the sight of the precipice, on the brink of which they had been sleeping. These first agitations of the soul are seconded by the powerful attractions of grace, and a sudden and permanent conver- sion is frequently the effect.
This plentiful source of benedicti- ons, however, is closed to the incon- stant Christian ; or rather, it has been frequently opened to him, and his in- constancy has always prevented its ef- fect.— He has oftentimes been enlight- ened, and as often has he replunged into darkness : he has oftentimes seen the error of his ways, and the danger
of Lent. 483
to which his salvation is exposed, and as often has he stilled the tumults of his "breast hy a few works of piety, and returned to his former habits. — The first time, indeed, that the light of truth flashed on his soul, he felt the agitations which I have described ; he was for a time fervent, and repentant. But now, that he has so often turned his back on his God, the returns of light are like the glimmerings of an
O ^^ t-J
-expiring taper, the gleam is momen- tary and faint ; it enlightens not his soul ; he can barely discern the gross defilements of more heinous sins, and lie vainly imagines that he removes them by a mechanical reception of the sacraments.
Much better would it have been, says
an apostle, if he had never known the way
of justice, than after having knonn it,
' to turn Back, 2 Pet. ii. 21. — The Jews,
on their return from captivity, melted
into tears, when the book of the law,
Y2
484 Third Sunday
of which they had been so long de- prived, was publicly read by the pro- phet Esdras. They struck their breasts, they dismissed their unlawful wives, and they regulated their conduct ac- cording to its maxims : so powerful is the force of truth not abused. But the daily lecture of this same law occasion- ed, in process of time, not a reform of conduct, but a hardness of heart. In the same manner, the most enlightened sinners, now a days, are generally the most incorrigible : they are familiar with every argument with which we enforce the necessity of repentance; they will speak with a flow of eloquence on the vanities of the world, and on the im- portance of salvation. But the know- ledge of the truth seems to increase their tranquillity : they are veterans in the warfare against God ; and, vainly supposing that it will be, at any time, as easy to love the truth, as it is to know the truth, they remain delibe-
of Lent. 485
rately obstinate in the ways of sin ; till at length they 'are surprised by the un- expected summons of the Almighty -to render an account of their stewardship.
Depend upon it, my friends : there
is every reason to be alarmed for the salvation of these enlightened sinners.
o *
who know every thing, and who prac- tise nothing. Yes : it is impossible for those who have been enlightened, and who are fallen away, to be again re- newed to penance.
2. In the. second place, sinners are frequently reclaimed by t he taste of the heavenly gift of virtue, which always accompanies the beginnings of1 wis- dom ; and by the joy which arises in the soul when she is first disengaged from the enormous load of guilt, and in possession of the sweets of peace and innocence. Ah ! dear Christians, no- thing can exceed the pious transports of the soul, which after having been buried in the loathsome sink of vice,
/ 'Y3
486 Third Sunday
begins to breathe the pure air of piety, and to taste the delights of love. Thou hast broken my bonds asunder, exclaims the penitent David in an extasy of de- light : how happy am I to be of the number of thy servants ! how glori- ous is it to reckon amongst my ances- tors one only soul who has been faith- ful to Thee — more glorious than a long list of potentates and conquerors ! / am thy servant, O Lord, and the son of thy handmaid, Ps. cxv.
These -are the first attractions of grace, and these are its effects on the soul which has never before experienc- ed the force of love, or tasted how sweet is the Lord. — But, as for the in- constant Christian, who has so often been in love with piety, and as often returned to his former pleasures, what new source of enjoyment can he open by a change of life, of which he has not already tasted too often ? — Ah ! if he had a heart of steel, it might be
of Lent. 487
softened by grace, and made suscepti- ble of retaining its impression. But, as the prophet says, he has a heart of wax, susceptible of every impression, and incapable of retaining any : one impression obliterates the former, and the last that is made keeps full posses- sion till it is succeeded by another. He is fervent in his fits of devotion, and when these are past, he is solely bent on sensual gratifications : his love is centered in God during the moments of compunction, and when these are elapsed, the world alone can satisfy his desires.
If this unhappy man could be con- vinced of his danger, he would indeed tremble. Our Lord himself says, that whoever putteth his hand to the plough, and looketh back, is not Jit for the kingdom of Godt. Luke ix. 62. He does not say, that he loseth his title to the kingdom of God, or that be ex- poseth himself to the danger of being Y4
488 Third Sunday
excluded from it ; but lie is not Jit for the kingdom of God ; that is to say, that his inclinations and dispositions, both of mind and body, render him unfit for completing the great work of salvation. When we say that a man is not Jit for any particular state of life, for the church for instance, for the army, or . for the law ; we mean that his natural and acquired dispositions are such as to preclude every probabi- lity of success in that state. In the same state does our Lord say, that of all characters, the character of incon- stancy is the most unfit for the kingdom of God, Lukeix. 62. ' The hardened, the obdurate sinner may be softened into repentance by the unctions of grace : Manasses in chains adores the true God, whose altars he had overturned : the publican does pe- nance; Zacheus restores his ill-gotten goods \ Magdalen washes away her defilements at the feet of Jesus : but
of Lent. 489
an Achab, a Sedeceas, \vho, at one time, covered themselves with sack- cloth and ashes, and at another/ wal- lowed in the mire of sin ; who, at one time, were obedient to the instructive and inspired voice of the prophets and ministers of God, and at another, stu- died to heap the most outrageous in-? suits on their venerable heads; ah f the scriptures no where inform us that they died penitent : no, their levity, their inconstancy rendered them unfit for the kingdom of God.
My friends ; in order to be a true Christian, a constant disciple of the crucified Jesus, a man must possess a resolute mind : he must know how to choose, and how to abide by his choice: he must not be impeded by obstacles: he must be guided, not by inclination, but by the rules of the gospel. There must be that something great, elevat- ed, and noble in his character, which exalts the mind above vulgar prejudices V5
490 Third Sunday
and ideas, and enriches it with true wisdom. He must he separated from the company of the inconstant, who, in the words of St. Jude, may be com- pared to clouds without water, which are driven about by .the winds ; lo wandering stars, which have no fixed course ; to the raging sea, which casts from its bosom the lifeless corpse, and by the next swell of its waves swallows it up again.
3. In the third place, the repenting sinner is confirmed in his resolutions by the sacraments. The awful solem- nity of the tribunal of penance, the shame and confusion occasioned by the declaration of his crimes, make an impression on his mind which is not easily effaced . — : — But what advan- tage does the inconstant Christian de- rive from this plentiful and last re- source? Do these things make an im- pression on him ? No : he is familiar- ized with confusion; he is hardened
of Lent. 431
against impression : he changes the waters of life into waters of maledic- tion ; he profanes the sacraments,
Yes, I say, he profanes the sacra- ments ; and I appeal to your candour for the truth of my assertion. Can it be said that the man who is constantly sinning and constantly repenting ; who rises up from the unclean bed of vice, merely to shake himself and lay down again ; who says, I have sinned, in or- der to sin again with greater freedom ; can it be said, that such a man is. re* ceived every time into favour, and made acceptable to God ? Ought it not rather to be said, that he mocks, that he insults the Almighty, and that he receives the sacraments to his greater condemnation r
I pretend not, however, to insinu- ate that a worthy participation of the sacraments will fix the soul unchange- ably in a state of justification ; or, that we must conclude that we have been
492 Third Sunday
guilty of a profanation, if we fall again into our former sins. But my object is, to prove that the man who is truly justified in the sight of God, retains the deep impression for a length of time ; and if he falls again, that he falls not immediately, but continues stead- fast until time and repeated tempta- tions have obliterated the impression, — until many trivial faults have led him on by degrees to the fatal preci- pice ; for no one passes on a sudden from a state pf justice to a state of sin.
A true conversion is not the work of .a moment. It requires floods of tears, long prayers, painful self-denials, and perseverance in good works. Now, what a person has acquired with such difficulty and labour, he will not easily part with : he will not on a sudden pass from a state of justice to a state of sin. i ; -;s
A true conversion is a work of firm-
of LenK 493
ness and solidity. It forms the sinner into a new creature ; it changes the inclinations ; it renews the whole man ; it builds the house upon a rock. Now, the first breath of temptation cannot destroy that which is capable of M'ith- standing the violence of the united elements. The house that falls as soon as the waves beat, and the winds blow, is built on quick ,sand.
A true conversion is the work of thought. A person deliberates before he undertakes it — he hesitates, he trembles — he shrinks — he wills, and he wills not — he reckons up the obsta- cles, and calculates their effects — he is lost in the multitude and variety of his reflections. Now, a work that is undertaken after such mature consi- deration, certainly will not be aban- doned in an instant.
A great change, therefore, must be wrought, when the sinner is duly pre- pared for the sacrament, aaid really ab-
494 # Third Sunday
solved in the sight of God You, there- fore, of my present hearers, who are addicted to mortal sin, you may con- clude, that, rf you are the same after confession as you were before ; if yon are as eager in the same criminal pur- suits ; if yon feel the same repugnance to fasts, watch ings, prayer, and re- tirement ; if you take no precautions to guard against future sins ; you, 1 say, may conclude, that as the finger of God is not visible in your conversion, the devil is not cast out of your soul. No ; my God ! when thou recallest a sinner from his evil ways, the effects of thy grace are durable ; it is not received and forfeited again almost at the same moment.
For this reason, the pretended re- pentance of these inconstant souls has been always treated by the saints as public insults offered to the most sa- cred mysteries of religion. They forbad them to approach the altar, they consi-
of Lent. 40,5
dered them as unclean^ before whom it Avas unlawful to throw the pearls of the Sanctuary — the Holy of Holies. They even suspected the reality of that Chris- tian's repentance who relapsed only once into his former sins. This, jhpw- ever, would be an excess of severity in these times : an excess, as detrimental to religion, by deterring the faithful from their duty, as a criminal compli- ance would be in admitting all indiscri- minately.— It is, nevertheless, an indu- bitable truth, that the body of the Lord should not be given to those who have repeatedly profaned it ; that reliance should not be placed on promises which have been repeatedly broken ; that ab- solution should not be pronounced, when there is every probability that it will draw down the maledictions of heaven, and strengthen the bad habits of the false penitent, instead of procur- ing his discharge from God. Of all characters, therefore, my be*
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loved friends, the character of incon- stancy is the most unfit for the kingdom of heaven. Hardened sinners, as I said above, are frequently^ con verted by the means I have described. But these means are insufficient to procure the same effect on the inconstant. Extraor- dinary means are necessary ; and extra- ordinary means are seldom resorted to by the Almighty. — This class of meny nevertheless, are of all others the least aware of their dangerous state. They are lulled into a false security by the sentiments of piety which, from time to time, accompany them to the altar. The unbounded licentiousness of so many, in the present age, who live without God, without religion, without sacra- ments, sets off to advantage their exte- rior pjous, and regular deportment. They are satisfied, because they are not yet arrived to the same pitch of irreli- gion and immorality. They applaud themselves, because they are regular, at
•
of Lent. 4£)7
the place of worship, and frequent the sacraments. They thank God in their hearts, like the Pharisee, that they arc not like the rest of men, Luke xviii. 4 1 . This comparison flatters their pride, and increases their false security; where- as their whole religion, their whole pie- ty, is no more than the reiterated pro- fanation of the most tremendous mys- teries of the Deity.
If there are any in this assembly, who live in these alternatives of grace and sin ; who will neither renounce their passions, nor their devotions ; let me entreat them to come to a determi- nation. You cannot serve both God and Baal. If Baal be your God, as a prophet said to the Jews, follow him; but if the Lord be your God, adore him alone. Why these pleasures, and these tears r Either dry up your tears, and receive your consolation in this 'world ; or seek that consolation, that pleasure alone which proceeds from virtue and
498 Third Sunday of Lent.
innocence. Have pity on your own souls : come to a determination : fix a solid peace in your interior : embrace the mercies of Gocl, which are offered you at this time. — Perhaps your incon- stancy is hastening to a fatal conclu- sion. Enter, therefore, the paths of virtue without delay ; fix the founda- tion of your new building on the firm basis of charity; and be no longer like those men, of whom our Lord speaks, who believed in him only for a time. By this means, you- will be entitled to ', the crown of glory and immortality in heaven, which is promised to all who persevere faithfully to the end.
FOURTH SUNDAY OF LENT.
ON CONFESSION.
Confess your sins one to another, and pray one for another y that you may be saved. .... James v. ]6\
the preced- ing Sundays, my beloved brethren, I enlarged on the great, and manifold duties, which are imposed on you at this time: I described the extent of, and the necessity of complying with the precept of fasting : I admonished you, that the law is not confined to the exterior mortification of the flesh, but that you must rend your hearts, and be converted to the Lord by a true, and sincere reformation of life : and
500 Fourth Sunday
lastly I guarded you against the 'dan- gers of inconstancy, in order that your repentance might be permanent and effectual. — I will, now, ^nter upon the second part of my instructions for this time, and explain to you at large the preparation which is required for a worthy participation of the sacred mys- teries at the conclusion of this season. I will begin with the sacrament of penance, and it shall form the subject of this, and the following discourse.
It is not my intention to enter into a controversial discourse on the in- stitution of this sacrament, because such a disquisition would be unneces- sary before a catholic audience. But I propose to discuss the conditions, on the due and faithful performance of which the whole fruit of the sacra- ment depends. This, perhapsy may appear, at firs,t sight, as unnecessary as the subject of its institution, on ac- count of the instructions which you.
of Lent. 501
have continued to receive on that head even from your childhood. But if you reflect on the many times you have presented yourselves at the sacred tri- bunal, and the little fruit that you have hitherto reaped, you must conclude that there are some deficiencies on your part ; and that it is the duty of the pastor to scrutinize " them, and to prescribe the remedies. On the part of God there can be no deficiency : the blood of Jesus is as powerful now, as at any former period. All the defects, there- fore, must be laid entirely to your charge, and in compliance with my duty I will examine them, and lay be- fore you the means of effecting their
cure. 1 shall reduce them to three
heads, by observing, first, that you either acquire not a perfect knowledge of the state of your interior ; or se- condly, that you confess not your sins with sufficient candour, and explicit- ness ; or lastly, that you are deficient
502 Fourth Sunday
in the most indispensable part, which is that of contrition.
1. Man, generally speaking, is a mystery to himself. Being influenced in all his decisions, and guided in all his actions by self-love, he always views his own conduct on the most favourable side ; and is generally the last person who discovers the faults, into which this deceitful prompter has beguiled him.
This fatal ignorance of the true state of our souls can be dispelled only by two means; first, by a deliberate and attentive examination of our con- science ; and secondly, by a strict at- tention to the relative duties of our state.
In the first place, the whole life of a Christian ought to be devoted to self-examination. We must scrutinize every thought ; every word ; every ac- tion : we must not desist even for one hour. For we experience such a con-
of Lent. 503
tinual and rapid succession of desires, of jealousies, of fears, of hopes, of trou- bles, of hatred, and love, that if the thread is but once broken in our recol- lection, we are instantly lost: if we cease for an instant to follow the secret windings of the passions in our souls, we know neither their extent nor their consequences : all is confusion on ac- count of the multiplicity of things ; our conscience is formed into an abyss which we cannot fathom ; the surface aloue is open to our view.
It is an error, therefore, to suppose that, after a long time spent in tepi- dity, and in a dissipated and worldly life, an hour or two spent in examina- tion is sufficient to discover the true state of your interior. You must be habituated to give a daily account of yourselves to your own souls : you must enter into judgment on every action ; if not frequently in the day, at least, during the silence of the
504- Fourth Sunday
night, after the labours, fatigues, and' pastimes of the day are concluded ; you must, like the Royal Prophet, (Ps. cxviii. 109.), place your souls in your hands before the Lord, . and weigh in his sight every action that you have performed. By this means alone, can you be familiarized with your- selves, and be disposed to carry to the sacred tribunal hearts that have been already judged.
But, is it in this manner that , you prepare yourselves for the sacra- ment of penance ? The generality of Christians live in such a state of dissipation that they dare not look into their own hearts : the closet of their interior is a place of melancholy and
I V
sadness, from which they fly with pre- cipitation ; they dread the idea of being left alone to their own reflec- tions : they avoid with solicitude every thought about their past dis- orders. You,- perhaps, my beloved, are
of Lent, 505
of this unhappy number, and therefore I will ask you ; whether it is possible that, in the space of one hour, you should be able to explore the intricate windings of your passions ? Whether it is possible that so many unjust de- sires, so many criminal indulgences, so much tepidity, so many distractions, so many compliances with self-will, so many injurious words, ^o many reflections on your neighbours, such frequent hatreds and animosities, so many sinful thoughts, so many crimes which you have occasioned in others, the greatest part of which were sedul- ously erased from your mind almost as soon as committed. Whether it is possible, I say, that such an abyss should be so suddenly enlightened, and that such a disordered state of conscience, to which you have hitherto been strangers, should so suddenly be made known, and become, as it were, familiar to you?
Z
,506" Fourth Sunday
That such a thing is impossible you must readily acknowledge, conse- quently you yourselves must draw this conclusion ; that the person who neg- lects the sacrament of penance for any length of time, and is inattentive to the daily examination of his conscience, must necessarily be deficient in the knowledge of his interior, and ought to attribute, in part, to this cause the little fruit which he has hitherto reaped from his confessions.
I must observe, likewise, that a very notable defect arises from another quarter: you examine not the sins you commit in relation to the various capacities in which you stand : as a parent, for instance, — as a private in- dividual,— as a tradesman, — as a ser- vant, and so on : you attend only to personal failings in general terms, and omit the relative duties of your state and calling.
As parents, you are bound to con-
of Lent. 107
sider your children, not as properly belonging to you, but as a sort of trust committed to your care by the provi- dence of God. Him you are to con- sider as their Father, and yourselves, as merely occupying, for a time, the place of guardians.
The duties of this guardianship are manifold, and great. It is incumbent on you to bring them up in the fear and love of their heavenly Father ; to prevent their entrance into the broad road of the world ; to lead them by the hand into the narrow path of virtue, and piety ; to convince them of the vanity, and emptiness of all things here below ; and to warm their in- nocent bosoms with the flames of charity, and divine love. These are your duties in quality of parents — duties which are indispensable, and in- commutable. Nevertheless, how many are there, who confine their solicitude for their children to earthly things;
Z2
508 Fourth Sunday
who leave the task of instructing them in piety to their pastors, and then frus- trate by their own example the instruc- tions which they have received ; who invite, and even force -them to take part with the world, at the time that they commission their directors to so- licit them to take part with Jesus ; how many, I say, are there of this descrip- tion ! and how few who make this the subject of their examination ! — Again, you have many duties to per- form in respect to your servants. You are their father, and pastor, as long as they are under your command : and if you neglect their spiritual welfare, you become, as the scripture expresses it, worse than infidels: and do you ever examine yourselves on this head?
Moreover, as members of the body of the faithful, you owe to your bre- thren tire example of an edifying, and irreprehensible life. The more exalted 3'ou are, the stricter is the obligation ;
of Lent. 509
because your example is either more efficacious, or more pernicious in pro- portion to your rank. — As members of the true Church, it is a duty incumbent on you, to shine like lights to those who sit in the shades of error, and infi- delity; to display before: them, by the purity of your lives, the holiness of your religion ; and to convince them, if possible, of the truth of your faith, by your strict adherence to the rules of the gospel. But where are the Ca- tholics whose lives are stricter, whose morals are more evangelical, whose ex- ample is more edifying than that of their unbelieving brethren ? And yet, this subject never enters into their examination.
Again, if you are engaged in busi- ness, you are bound to follow the strictest line of justice; to be scrupul- ous in your dealings; and, if in trade, to see that all the orders which you receive are properly exe-
Z3
5 ] 0 Fourth Sunday
cuted, and that every article, in point of durability and real worth, is answer- able to the price you set upon it, and to the intentions of your employer.— If you are in service, you are bound to be exact in the performance of your duties ; to avoid extravagance, and waste; to confine your perquisites within the bounds of allowance; ami neither to give away, nor to assume to yourselves more than the will of your master has consented to.— These are your duties, and these must all form a part of your examination. But, alas ! after you have read over the catalogue of sins in your prayer books, you conclude that your exa- mination has been sufficiently minute ? Although you enter into a new state, although it may happen that your obligations are increased, that you are entrusted with five talents, instead of two, or one, your examination is still the same as it was before.— Ah ! this is
of Lent. 511
not acting like disciples of Jesus: this is not judging yourselves as you will hereafter be judged
The just man is minute in every point; he approaches to the sacred tribunal with fear, and trembling; he accuses himself in the bitterness of his soul of the smallest imperfections; he discovers even in his works of piety matter for accusation, and causes for penance ; he is afraid that the involun- tary feelings of nature were free acts of his will ; he imagines that he discovers in the first motions to sin, the guilt of having fully consented to it, although at the very time he acquired merit, by an immediate resistance ; he is diffident even of the experience of his director, when he endeavours to expel his fears ; and, like St. Peter in the excess of his prayer at Joppa, he fancies that he beholds objects forbidden by the law, even when an angel from heaven con- Z4
51$ Fourth Sunday
demns his scruples, and commands him to eat.
And \vhence arises this difference? The one keeps a .constant watch over his heart ; the other neglects examina- tion till he commences his preparation for confession. The one judges him- self according to the maxims of the gospel ; the other is influenced by the prejudices of self-love. The one exa- mines himself strictly on all the duties of his state; the other looks no farther' than to the open violations of the law, of which he knows neither the extent, nor the consequences. It is thus, O God, that thou enlightenest the hearts of the just, and that thou punishest the crimes of the worldling by permitting him to conceal them from his own eyes.
2. The second general defect, is a want of sincerity in the confession of our sins. — Nothing is more repugnant to the nature of man, than the acknow-
of Lent. 5 1 3
ledgement of guilt. Pride is his pre- dominant passion, and therefore, being conscious of innumerable failings, and dreading the confusion which would attend their publicity, he has re- course to artifice and dissimulation in order to conceal them from the eyes of others.
. This is his nature. But how truly de- plorable is it, that this pride should in- fluence him even in his acts of humilia- tion ; and that he should carry his dissimulation even to the foot of that great tribunal, where he. presents him- self on purpose to declare the secrets of his conscience, and to judge himself before Christ.
I allow, indeed, that few Christians are so far abandoned, as to come with a determined resolution of lying to the Holy Ghost. To people of this description, instructions would be of little service ; the thunders of the Al-
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mighty alone eould rouse them : the language of St. Peter to Ananias, and Sapphira, would be the only language calculated to make an impression on their hearts.
But there is a dissimulation of a different kind ; a dissimulation, which endeavours to palliate, and sometimes to excuse entirely the sins confessed. Of this dissimulation we are guilty when we endeavour to expose our sins in the most favourable light ; when we are solicitous to extenuate their enor- mity in the eyes of our director ; when we confess our greatest crimes in the fewest words, in order to avoid en- quiries ; when we pass over in silence circumstances, and incidents which in- crease the sin, and which are, some- times, more criminal than the sins, themselves ; and when, instead of en- tering into a minute explication,, we substitute vague, and general expres-
of Lent » 515
sions, which declare the actions, but which expose not the true state of our interior.
My friends, the language of a con- trite heart is an humble, simple, na<- tural, sincere language. It is a stran- ger both to dissimulation, and forced excuses. It explains the beginning, the progress, the minutest circum- stances, and the consequences of every crime. Instead of endeavouring to extenuate the guilt, it exposes it in the most odious colours before the minis- ter of God. — But how little is this lan- guage known ! How few in number are the Christians who confess their sins without dissimulation \ If we con- fessed to man only, such an artifice would succeed; it would be easy to deceive a judge who could not pene- trate the recesses of the mind. But we confess to Jesus Christ, who has been invisibly the witness of the whole his- tory of our lives; who reads in our
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hearts, as in an open book, the most hidden secrets, and who, at the time that we endeavour to impose on his minister by our hyprocrisy/ laughs at the ridiculous efforts of our shame ; and upbraids us, as the prophet up- braided the Queen of Israel who endea- voured to deceive him under a bor- rowed dress: " why dost thou feign thyself to be another ! (3 Kings xiv. 6.) Senseless man ! Dost thou think to conceal thy shame with a thin veil from the sight of Him, whose eye pierces the deepest abyss r Knowest thou nqt, that thou attemptest to hide thy de- sperate, and corrupted wounds from him, from whom alone thou canst ex- pect a cure ?"
We are guilty of dissimulation, in the second place, when we neglect to examine into the motives, and prin- ciples which occasioned our sins. — Religion informs us that the whole merit and demerit of every action de-
of Lent. 517
pend solely on the intentions, and dis- positions of the heart. In order, there- fore, to be fully acquainted with their nature, it is necessary that we trace them to their very source. If we are addicted, for instance, to calumny, and detraction, we must examine from whence this disposition takes it rise; whether it be from pride, envy, or avarice: — if to swearing, quarrelling, or hatred ; whether it be attributable to the loss of the fear of God, or to a passionate, and revengeful temper : — if to intempe- rance, and sensuality ; whether it pro- ceeds from the spirit of irreligion, or from an inordinate attachment to earth-, ly things : — if to the sins of the flesh, whether it originate from a rooted, and obstinate affection for those brutal pleasures, or from courting the com- pany of the objects which excite them. •—These are indispensable subjects of inquiry, and must be held in view through the whole course of our exa-
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mination : otherwise we shall never acquire a competent knowledge of the extent either of our sins, or of the cor- ruption of our hearts. If, therefore, we are negligent in this point, we are guilty of dissimulation, by voluntarily concealing the true state of our in- terior both from ourselves, and from the director of our consciences.
And yet how common is this dissi- mulation ! and how serious are the consequences ! Your confession is not succeeded by that peace, and serenity of mind, which attends a good con- fession : you feel that you are not dis- burdened of that heavy load of guilt which oppressed your souls : you con- tinue to be the devoted victims of anx- iety, and remorse: your hearts tell you that you are not at peace with God.
Senseless as you are ! why will you foster in your breasts a serpent, which may so easily be dislodged? You
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undergo the humiliation of confession ; and by your insincerity, you deprive yourselves of its consolations. You publicly declare that you are sinners ; and this declaration, which is so pain- ful to human nature, becomes one of your greatest crimes.
Be no longer deceived, Christian brethren. Suffer not the enemy of your souls to impose on you by his delusive artifices. Your salvation depends on the worthily receiving the sacrament of penance. Arise, therefore, from the abyss. Subject every motion of your souls to a strict examination. Investi- gate minutely in what manner you perform the duties of your state, to what good purpose you employ the talents entrusted to you. Open your hearts without reserve to the minister of God. Display the true state of your interior before his eyes. Be not satisfied with a mere verbal declaration of your sins, but expose the causes ;
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lay open the root of the evil. — Then, if you are truly contrite, you will obtain the pardon of them ; you will enjoy the consolations of penance ; and you will receive grace to live holily and piously for the future.
END OF VOL. JU
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