dread, it is the justice of God which awaits you beyond it, to punish the infidelities and crimes of your life: it is, that, covered as you are with the most shameful wounds, which disfigure in you his image, you are not in a state to present yourselves before him: and that to die in your present situation, must be to perish for ever. Purify, then, your conscience, put an end to, and expiate your criminal passions; recall God to your heart; no longer offer to his sight any thing worthy of his anger or punishment; place yourselves in a state to hope something, after death, from his infinite mercy: then shall you see that last moment approach with less dread and trembling; and the sacrifice which you shall have already made to God, of the world and your passions, will not only render easy, but even sweet and consoling, the sacrifice you will then make to him of your life.
For say, What has death so fearful to a faithful soul? From what does it separate him? From a world which shall perish, and which is the country of the reprobate; from his riches, which torment him, of which the use is surrounded with dangers, and which he is forbid to use in the gratification of the senses; from his relations and friends, whom he precedes only by a moment, and who shall soon follow him; from his body, which hitherto had been either a rock to his innocence or a perpetual obstacle to his holy desires; from his offices and dignities, which, in multiplying his duties, augmented his dangers; lastly, from life, which to him was only an exilement, and an anxious desire to be delivered from it. What does death bestow on him, to compensate for what it takes away? It bestows unfading riches, of which none can ever deprive him; eternal joys, which he shall enjoy without fear or remorse; the peaceable and certain possession of God himself, from which he can never be degraded; deliverance from all his passions, which had ever been a constant source of disquiet and distress; an unalterable peace, which he never could find on the earth; and, lastly, the society of the just and happy, in place of that of sinners, from whom it separates him. What then, O my God! has the world so delightful, to attach a faithful soul? To him it is a vale of tears, where dangers are infinite, combats daily, victories rare, and defeats certain; where every gratification must be denied to the senses; where all tempts, and all is forbidden to us; where we must fly from and dread most, what most pleases us; in a word, where, if you suffer not, if you weep not, if you resist not to the utmost extremity, if you combat not without ceasing, if you hate not yourself, you are lost. What, then, do you find so amiable, so alluring, so capable of attaching a Christian soul? And to die, is it not a gain and a triumph for him?
Besides, death is the only object he looks forward to; it is the only consolation which supports the fidelity of the just. Do they bend under afflictions? They know that their end is near; that the short and fleeting tribulations of this life shall soon be followed by a load of eternal glory; and in that thought they find
