of your attachment to them diminishes its merit; and they punish you for the fervour and the shame of your transports, by taking occasion even from thence, to suffer all, even to their gratitude, to be cooled.
Behold the ungrateful returns experienced by our sinner in the ways of the passions! But in her penitence every thing is reckoned; the slightest step which she takes for Jesus Christ is noticed, is praised, is defended by Jesus Christ himself. The Pharisee vainly endeavours to lessen her merit (for the world never studies but to diminish the value of the virtues of the just); the Saviour undertakes her defence: "Seest thou this woman?" said he to him; as if he thereby meant to say, Knowest thou all the merit of the sacrifices which she makes to me, and how far the strength and the excess of her love for me extend? She hath not ceased to wash my feet with tears, and to wipe them with the hairs of her head. He reckons, he observes every thing; a sigh, a tear, a simple movement of the heart: nothing is lost upon him of whatever is done for him; nothing escapes the exactness of his glances, and the tenderness of his heart; we are well assured that we serve no ungrateful master; he overvalues even the slightest sacrifices. "Seest thou this woman? " He would, it appears, that all men view her with the same eyes that he did: that all men should be as equitable estimators as himself of her love, and of her tears: he no longer sees her debaucheries; he forgets a whole life of error and guilt: he sees only her repentance and her tears.
Now, what consolation for a contrite soul to have it in her power to say to herself, Till now, I have lived only for error and vanity. My days, my years, my cares, my inquietudes, my distresses, are all hitherto lost, and no longer exist, even in the memory of those men for whom alone I have lived, for whom alone I have sacrificed every thing. My rectitude, my attentions, my anxieties, have never been repaid but with ingratitude; but henceforth, whatever I do for Jesus Christ will receive its full estimation: my sufferings, my afflictions, the slightest sacrifices of my heart; my sighs, my tears, which I have so often shed in vain for creatures, all shall be written in immortal characters in the book of life: all these shall eternally exist in the remembrance of that faithful Master whom I serve; all these, in spite of the defects mingled with them by my weakness and my corruption, shall be excused, and even purified through the grace of my Redeemer, and he will crown his gifts by rewarding my feeble deserts. I no longer live but for eternity; I no longer labour in vain; my days are real, my life is no longer a dream. O, my brethren, what a blessed gain is piety; and how great are the consolations which a soul recalled to Jesus Christ receives, in compensation for the trifling losses which he sacrifices to him!
Lastly, difference in the certitude of the correspondence. That love of creatures which actuated our sinner, had always been attended with the most cruel uncertainties. One is always suspicious of an equal return of love: the heart is ingenious in rendering itself
