leave us behind them, to wander still unfortunately at the pleasure of our illicit desires. We view with a tranquil eye the prodigy of their change; and their lot, far from exciting our envy, and awaking in us any weak desires of salvation, only induces us, perhaps, to think on replacing the void which their retreat has made in the world: of elevating ourselves to those dangerous offices from which they have just descended through motives of religion and faith: — what shall I say? we become, perhaps, the censurers of their virtues: we seek elsewhere than in the infinite treasures of grace, the secret motives of their change; to the work of God we give views entirely worldly; and our deplorable censures become the most dangerous trials of their repentance. It is thus, O, my God! that Thou sheddest avenging darkness over iniquitous passions! Whence comes this? We want esteem for the holy undertaking of salvation: this is the first cause of our indifference.
In the second place, we labour in it with indolence, because we do not make a principal object of its attainment, and because we never give a preference to it over our other pursuits. In effect, my brethren, we all wish to be saved; the most deplorable sinners do not renounce this hope; we even wish, that amongst our actions there may always be found some which relate to our salvation; for none deceive themselves so far as to believe, that they shall be entitled to the glory of the holy, without having ever made a single exertion toward rendering themselves worthy of it; but the point in which we commonly deceive ourselves is, the rank which we give to those works, amidst the other occupations which divide our life.
The trifles, the attentions which we lavish so profusely in our intercourse with society, the functions of a charge, domestic arrangements, passions, and pleasures, their times and their moments marked in our days; — where do we place the work of salvation? What rank do we give to this special care, above our other cares? Do we even make a business of it? And, to enter into the particulars of your conduct, what do you perform for eternity, which you do not for the world an hundred-fold? You sometimes employ a small portion of your wealth in religious charities; but what are these when compared to the sums which you sacrifice every day to your pleasures, to your passions, and to your caprices? In the morning, you, perhaps, raise up your mind to the Lord in prayer; but does not the world, in a moment, resume its place in your heart, and is not the remainder of the day devoted to it? You regularly attend, perhaps, in order to fulfil the external duties of religion; but, without entering into the motives which frequently carry you there, this individual exercise of religion, is it not compensated by devoting the remainder of the day to indolent and worldly pursuits? You sometimes correct your inclinations; you perhaps bear with an injury; you undertake the discharge of some pious obligation; but these are individual and insulated exertions, out of the common track, and which are never followed by any re-
