forced to render glory to God, and, in recalling your past errors, to admire the prodigy of your present lot. Take, even from your wretchedness itself, new motives of confidence: bless, in advance, the merciful wisdom of that Being, who, even from your passions, shall know how to extract advantages to his glory: every thing co-operates toward the salvation of his chosen, and he permitteth great excesses only in order to operate great mercies. God ever wisheth the salvation of his creature; and, from the moment that we form a wish of returning to him, our only dread ought to be, not that his justice reject us, but lest our intention be not sincere.
And the surest proof of our sincerity is the absenting ourselves from every occasion which may place an obstacle to our resurrection and our deliverance; obstacle, figured by the stone which shut up the mouth of Lazarus's tomb, and which Jesus Christ orders to be removed before he begins to operate the miracle of his resurrection. — Remove the stone: second mean, marked in our Gospel.
In effect, every day shows sinners, who, tired of disorder, wish to return to God, but who cannot prevail upon themselves to quit those objects, those places, those situations, and those rocks, which have been the cause of their removal from him: they vainly persuade themselves that they shall be able to extinguish their passions, to terminate a disorderly life; in a word, to rise from the dead, without removing the stone. They even make some efforts: they address themselves to men and God; they adopt measures for a change; but it is of those measures which, not removing the dangers, do not, in the smallest degree, forward their safety; and thus their whole life sorrowfully passes away in detesting their chains, and in the utter inability of breaking them asunder.
Whence comes this, my brethren? It is that the passions begin to weaken only after the removal of such objects as have lighted them up; it is absurd to suppose that the heart can change while every thing around us continues, with regard to us, the same: you would become chaste, yet you live in the midst of the dangers, the connexions, the familiarities, the pleasures, which have a thousand times corrupted your heart; you would wish to reflect seriously on your eternity, and to place some interval between life and death, yet you are unwilling to place any between death and those debaucheries which prevent you from reflecting on your salvation; and, in the midst of agitations, pleasures, trifles, and worldly expectations, from which, on no account, will you abate, you expect that the inclination and relish for a Christian life will come to you unsought-for: you would that your heart form new propensities, surrounded by every thing which nourishes and fortifies the old; and that the lamp of faith and grace blaze up in the midst of winds and tempests, — that light which, even in the sanctuary, is so often extinguished through want of oil and nourishment, and, to lukewarm and retired souls, converts into a danger even the safety of their retreat.
