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and that gratitude which, when once known, it inspires. And behold the rocks, which the dispositions of the sages of the east toward that light of Heaven, which comes to show new routes to them, teach us to shun.

Accustomed, in consequence of a public profession of wisdom and philosophy, to investigate every thing, and reduce it to the judgment of a vain reason, and to be far above all popular prejudices, they stop not, however, before commencing their journey, upon the faith of the celestial light, to examine if the appearance of this new star might not be solved by natural causes; they do not assemble from every quarter scientific men, in order to reason on an event so uncommon; they sacrifice no time to vain difficulties, which generally arise, more from the repugnance we feel to truth, than from a sincere desire of enlightening ourselves, and of knowing it. Instructed by that tradition of their fathers which the captive Israelites had formerly carried into the east, and which Daniel and so many other prophets, had announced there, relative to the Star of Jacob which should one day appear, they at once comprehended, that the vain reflections of the human mind have no connexion with the light of heaven; that the portion of light which heaven shows them is sufficient to determine and to conduct them; that grace always leaves obscurities in the ways to which it calls us, in order not to deprive faith of the merit of submission; and that, whenever we are so happy as to catch a single gleam of truth, the uprightness of the heart ought to supply whatever deficiency may yet remain in the evidence of the light.

Nevertheless, how many souls in the world, wavering upon faith, or rather enslaved by passions which render doubtful to them that truth which condemns them; how many souls thus floating, clearly see, that, at bottom, the religion of our fathers hath marks of truth which the most high-flown and proudest reason would not dare to deny to it; that unbelief leads to too much; that after all, we must hold to something; and that total unbelief is a choice still more incomprehensible to reason than the mysteries which shock it; who see it, and who struggle, by endless disputes, to lull that worm of the conscience which incessantly reproaches their error and their folly; who resist that truth, which proves itself in the bottom of their heart, under the pretence of enlightening themselves; who apply for advice only that they may say to themselves, that their doubts are unanswerable; who have recourse to the most learned, only to have the power of alleging, as a fresh motive of unbelief, the having had recourse in vain! It would seem that religion is no longer but a matter of discourse; it is no longer considered as that important affair in which not a moment is to be lost; it is a simple matter of controversy, as formerly in the Areopagus; it fills up the idle time; it is one of those unimportant questions which fill up the vacancies of conversation, and amuse the languor and the vanity of general intercourse.

But, my brethern, "the kingdom of God cometh not with