What is your life but a flux and reflux of desires, hatreds, chagrins, jealousies, and hopes, which poison all your pleasures, and are the cause that, surrounded by every thing which ought to ensure your happiness, you cannot succeed in being contented with yourselves?

What comparison is there between the phrenzies of the passions, the chagrin of a marked neglect, the sensibility of unkindness; and the trifling sorrows of virtue ? What comparison between the unceasing anxieties of ambition, the fatigues and toils of pretensions and expectancies, the pains to ensure success, the exertions and submissions necessary to please, the cares, uneasinesses, and agitations, in order to exalt ourselves; and the trifling difficulties which assure to us the kingdom of heaven? What comparison between the frightful pangs of the conscience, that hidden worm, which incessantly gnaws us, that sadness of guilt, which undermines and reduces us, that weight of iniquity, which overwhelms us, that internal sword, which pierces us to the quick, which we know not how to draw forth, but carry with us wherever we go; and the pleasing sorrow of the penitence which operates salvation? My God! can we complain of Thee, after knowing the world? Can Thy yoke appear grievous, after quitting that of the passions? And the thorns of Thy cross, are they not flowers, when compared to those which the ways of iniquity and the world have sown?

Thus, every day, we hear the worshipers of the world decry the world they serve; complain with the utmost dissatisfaction of their lot; utter the keenest invectives against its injustice and abuses; censure, condemn, and despise it; but find me, if you can, any truly pious souls,

who send forth invectives against virtue-who condemn or despise it; and who detest their lot in being embarked on a voyage, so full of chagrin and bitterness. The world itself continually envies the destiny of the virtuous, and acknowledges that none are happy but the upright; but find me a truly pious soul, who envies the destiny of the world; who proclaims, that none are happy but its partisans; who admires the wisdom of their choice, and regards his own condition as the most miserable and the most foolish: What shall I say? We frequently see sinners, who, through despair and disgust at the world, have fled to opposite extremes; lose rest, health, reason, and life; fall into a state of horror, and the blackest melancholy, and no longer regard life but as the greatest torment. But where are the righteous, whom the disgusts which accompany virtue have thrown into such dreadful extremities? They sometimes complain of their sorrows; but they still prefer them to the pleasures of the passions: Virtue, it is true, may sometimes appear melancholy and unpleasing to them; but with all her sadness, they love her much more than guilt: They would wish a few more apparent supports and consolations from the Father of mercies; but they detest those of the world: They suffer; but the same hand which tries, supports them, and they are not tempted beyond their strength: They feel what you call the weight of the yoke of Jesus Christ; but in remembering the load of iniquity, under which they had so long groaned, they find their present lot happy, and the comparison calms and comforts them.

In reality, my brethren, in the first place, the violence which we do to ourselves, is much more agreeable than

that which comes from without, and happens in spite of us. Now, the troubles of virtue are at least voluntary : They are crosses which we choose from reason, and impose on ourselves from duty: They are often bitter, but we are consoled by the reflection of having chosen them. But the disgusts of the world are forced crosses, which come without our being consulted: It is a hateful yoke, which is imposed on us against our will: We wish it not; we detest it; yet nevertheless we must drink all the bitterness of the cup. In virtue, we only suffer, because it is our inclination to suffer; In the world, we suffer so much the more, in proportion as we wish it less, and as our inclinations are inimical to our sufferings.

Secondly, The disgusts accompanying virtue are a burden only to indolence and laziness; they are crosses, bitter only to the senses; But the disgusts of the world; ah! they pierce to the quick; they mortify all the passions; they humble pride; pull down vanity; create envy; mortify ambition; and none of our feelings escape the influence of their sadness and bitterness.

Thirdly, Those of virtue are perceptible only in their first operation: The first efforts cost us much; the sequel softens and tranquillizes them: the passions, which are generally the occasion of any disgust at virtue, have this particular quality, that the more we repress them, the more tractable they become; the opposition we make to them, gradually calms the heart, and leaves us less to suffer from those to come; but the disgusts of the world are always new; as they always find in us the same passions, they always leave us the same bitterness; those which have gone before, only render those that follow more insupportable.

In a word, the disgusts of the world inflame our passions, and consequently increase our sufferings; those of virtue repress them, and by this means gradually establish peace and tranquillity in our soul.

Fourthly, The disgusts of the world happen to those who most faithfully serve it: It does not treat them better, because they are more devoted to its cause, and more zealous for its abuses; on the contrary, the hearts most ardent for the world, are almost always those which experience the largest share of its mortifications, because they feel more sensibly its neglect and injustice: Their ardour for it, is the source of all their uneasiness. But with God, we have only our indifference to dread; for the disgusts which may accompany virtue, in general, have only relaxation and idleness for the foundation; the more our ardour for the Lord increases, the more do our disgusts diminish; the more our zeal inflames, the more does our repugnance weaken; the more we serve Him with fidelity, the more charms and consolation do we find in His service: It is by relaxing, that we render our duties disagreeable; it is by lessening our fervour, that we add a new weight to our yoke; and if, in spite of our fidelity, disgusts continue, they are then trials, and not punishments; it is not that consolations are refused, it is that a new occasion for the display of merit is prepared for us; it is not an irritated God, who shuts His heart to us, it is a merciful God, who purifies our own; it is not a discontented master, who suspends his favours, it is a jealous Lord, who wishes to prove our love; our homages are not rejected, our submissions and services are only anticipated; it is not meant to repulse, but to assure to us the price of our sufferings, by rejecting every thing which might still mingle the man with Vol. I.

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God, ourselves with grace, human supports with the gifts of Heaven, and the riches of faith with the consolations of self-love. Behold, my brethren, the last truth with which I shall terminate this discourse: Not only the disgusts accompanying virtue, are less bitter than those of the world, but they likewise possess resources which those of the world have not.

REFLECT. IV. I say resources; alas! my brethren, we find none but in virtue. The world wounds the heart, but it furnishes no remedies: It has its chagrins, but nothing to comfort them: It is full of disgusts and bitterness, but we find no resources in it. But in virtue, there is no sorrow which has not its consolation; and if in it we find repugnance and disgust, we find likewise a thousand resources which soothe them.

In the first place, Peace of heart, and the testimony of the conscience. What luxury, to be at peace with ourselves; no longer to carry within us that importunate and corroding worm, which pursued us every where ; no longer to be racked by an eternal remorse, which poisoned every comfort of life: In a word, to be delivered from iniquity! The senses may still suffer from the sorrows of virtue, but the heart at least is tranquil.

are not

Secondly, The certainty that our sufferings lost; that our sorrows become a new occasion for the display of merit; that the repugnance we feel, in preparing for us new sacrifices, secures an additional claim to the promises of faith; that were virtue to cost us less, it would likewise bear an inferior price in the sight of God; and that He only renders the road so difficult, in order to render our crown more brilliant and glorious.

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Thirdly, Submission to the will of God, who has