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, light up envy, mortify ambition, and none of our feelings escape the influence of their sadness and bitterness.
Thirdly. Those of virtue are sensible 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 in particular, that the more we repress them, the more tractable they become; the violences we do to them, gradually calm the heart, and leave 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 bitternesses; 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 these 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 party, and more zealous for its abuses; on the contrary, the hearts most ardent to the world, are almost always those who 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 uneasinesses. But with God, we have only our coldness to dread; for the disgusts which may accompany virtue, in general, have only relaxation and idleness for principle; the more our ardour for the Lord increases, the more do our disgusts diminish; the more our zeal inflames, the more do our repugnances weaken; the more we serve him with fidelity, the more charms and consolations 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, the disgusts continue, they are then trials, and not punishments: it is not that consolations are refused, it is a new occasion of merit which 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 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 not so bitter as those of the world, but they likewise possess resources which those of the world have not.
