still to preserve, seek, in this manner, its proper interest? Does it regard as nothing, the displeasure of him it loves, provided its infidelities remain unpunished? Does it think of disputing, like you every day, to what degree it may safely offend him, in order to take its measures accordingly, and then allow itself every transgression to which impunity is attached? Does it see nothing amiable in its God, or capable of attaching the heart, but his chastisements? Were he not even an Almighty and an avenging God, would it be less affected by his infinite mercies, his truth, holiness, wisdom, fatherly tenderness, and protection? Ah! lukewarm and infidel soul! thou lovest him no longer: thou lovest, thou livest only for thyself. The small remains of fidelity, which still keep thee from sin, are nothing but a fund of sloth, timidity, and self-love. Thou wishest to live in peace with thyself: thou dreadest the embarrassments of a passion, and the remorse of a sullied conscience; iniquity has become a fatigue, and that alone displeases thee with it. Thou lovest thine own ease; and that is thy sole religion. Indolence is the only barrier which stops thee, and all thy virtue is limited to thyself. Assuredly thou wouldst wish to know whether this infidelity be a venial transgression, or if it extends farther. Thou acknowledgest, that it displeases God, (for that point admits of no doubt,) yet is that not sufficient to turn thee from it? Thou wouldst wish to know, whether it so far displeases him as to provoke his everlasting wrath? Ah! thou seest very well, that this investigation tends to nothing by thyself; that thy disposition leads thee to think guilt nothing, as an offence and a displeasure to God, — a powerful reason, however, why it should be detestable to thee; that thou no longer servest the Lord in truth and in charity; that thy pretended virtue is only a natural timidity, which dares not expose itself to the terrible threatenings of the law; that thou art nothing but a vile and wretched slave, to restrain whom, it is necessary to keep scourges continually in thy sight; that thou resemblest that unfaithful servant, who secreted his talent, because he knew that his master was severe, and, but for that reason, would have wasted it in dissipation; and that, in the preparation of the heart, to which alone the Almighty looketh, thou hatest his law: thou lovest every thing it forbids; thou art no longer in charity; thou art a child of death and perdition.
The second character of charity is to be timorous, and to magnify to ourselves our smallest deviations; not that charity deceives or conceals from us the truth, but, disengaging the soul from the senses, it purifies our view of faith, and renders it more quick-sighted in spiritual affairs; and besides, whatever is, in the smallest degree, displeasing to the only object of our love, appears serious and considerable to the soul which loves. Thus charity is always humble, timid, and distrustful of itself; unceasingly agitated by its pious perplexities, which leave it in suspense respecting its real state; always alarmed by those delicacies of grace, which make it tremble at every action; which make a kind of martyrdom of love, from the
