[Transcriber's notes: This production is based on https://archive.org/details/sermonspaulists00unknuoft/page/n7. Many footnotes have additional citations indicated by "USCCB", based on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops Bible found at http://usccb.org/bible/books-of-the-bible. Most differences appear to be typographical errors not detected in proofreading or minor changes in verse numbering. End of Transcriber's notes.]

SERMONS.

Sermons,
Preached At The Church of St. Paul the Apostle,
New York, During the Year 1861.

New York:
Van Parys, Hugot & Howell,
34 Beekman Street.
1861.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by
VAN PARYS, HUGOT & HOWELL,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.

C. A. ALVORD, PRINTER.

PREFACE.

Some of those friends who listened to the sermons contained in this volume have expressed a desire to see them in print, and thought they would do good. This friendly counsel has not been acted upon without hesitation. The great scarcity of Catholic sermons in English would seem to afford motive enough for publishing, though it is feared that these may fall too far below the standard. Certainly, they make no pretence to brilliant passages of imagination, flowers of style, or appeals to popular enthusiasm; these not comporting with the serious and earnest work in which we are engaged. But we trust that they will be found plain, simple, and direct, and that there may be those among our Catholic brethren who will derive an appreciable benefit from their perusal—some clearer view of Christian doctrine or moral duty, some thought to touch the heart, and draw it upward to God. If so, our purpose will have been accomplished. With so much of explanation we send out these few sermons into the world; doubting, somewhat, if all who heard them when they came living and warm from the preacher's lips, and listened with interest then, will prize them now as they lie cold and uncolored on the paper.

St. Paul's. 59th Street, Dec. 1. 1861.

CONTENTS.

SERMON I.
The Earnest Man.

A Sermon For The Commemoration Of St. Paul, Apostle.
(From the Epistle, Gal. i., 11-23.)

I have read the Epistle for the day, rather than the Gospel, because it contains a brief but characteristic sketch of the great Apostle, drawn by his own hand. How strange is the history of this man! We have here the Church's most bitter persecutor converted into the most zealous and successful of all the Apostles. At first we discover a careful and devoted student of the Jewish law; afterward he stands forth the most learned and eloquent expounder of the Christian Gospel. We see him in his youth a witness of St. Stephen's martyrdom, standing by to hold the garments of those who stoned him to death, sternly and pitilessly looking on; and again in his old age we find him lying lifeless on the Ostian road, outside the walls of Rome, a headless trunk, a martyr in the same cause for which St. Stephen died. We see him at first "ravaging the Church, entering into houses, and hauling away men and women, and committing them to prison," and shortly afterward we hear the wondering Christians whisper to each other: "He that persecuted us in times past now preaches the faith." In the beginning, foremost of all the Jews was he in that terrible energy which they put forth to destroy the Church; and afterward foremost among the Apostles, he was able to say with truth: "I have labored more abundantly than they all." In fine, one trait of character distinguished this great Apostle at all times, both before and after his conversion. He was always an earnest man. It is worth our while this morning to study his character well, for—from the bottom of my soul I do believe it—a few such earnest Christians in our day would be enough to move the world.

Let us look at him first during the early part of his career, and see how this earnestness of character displays itself in one whose mind is misguided, by religious error. In the first place, then, St. Paul before his conversion was distinguished by an earnest and ardent love of truth, and consequently, a strong attachment to what he deemed to be the truth. I have already read to you in the Epistle what he says of his own early life: "I made progress in the Jews' religion above many of my equals in my own nation, being more abundantly zealous for the traditions of my fathers." This earnestness of his sprang from a deep love of truth, and it made him what he afterward became, the foremost champion of the true faith. The human mind is created for truth, is naturally attracted to the truth when fairly presented, and if not led away by a corrupted heart, embraces it with joy. Truth comes readily to those that love it, and therefore there is, after all, nothing unnatural in this conversion of a Hebrew zealot into a Christian evangelist; for if he loved error at first, it was only because in good faith he mistook it for the truth, and if he hated the truth, it was only because he did not see it in its true colors, but misrepresented and perverted. These men who are zealous, honestly zealous, in error, are the very men to embrace the truth; and, on the contrary, they who stand perfectly indifferent between contradictory creeds, are the least open to conviction. Both reason and experience teach this. Nothing is more common in our day than a class of men who look with perfect[ly] good nature upon every form of religious doctrine, except perhaps that particular one in which they themselves were reared, and which is supposed therefore to have some practical claim upon them. Did you ever know one of these "liberal fellows," so called, to be come Catholic? I mean these men who, having no religious faith to love, can have no error to hate. I mean, for example, these nominal Protestants who, when in your presence, turn into ridicule every Protestant form of religion, without believing a word of yours; one of these good-natured fellows that think the Catholic religion is quite as good as any, in some respects the best of any, since it is the farthest out of their way. Take, for instance, one of these liberal politicians that you always see at the public dinner on Patrick's day; that will subscribe cordially to a Catholic charity, if you ask him, but comes back to remind you of it on election day. Did you ever know a man of this stamp to become Catholic? No, indeed; divine truth has attractions only for earnest souls. A hickory Protestant is as poor a thing as a hickory Catholic. Such a man has two fundamental axioms to get by heart, before religious truth can take possession of his soul; first, that there is such a thing as truth, and next, that his mind was made for it, and needs it. Oh! it is sad to see a man in ignorance of the way of salvation,—sadder still to see him blindly prejudiced against it; but the saddest, most ignoble, and most hopeless of all conditions, is to be indifferent to it.

St. Paul was another type of man. He was an earnest one. He believed the Jewish religion to be the true and only true one, and therefore he loved it with all his soul, and was zealous for it. When the scales fell from his eyes, and the Christian faith was revealed to him in all its truth and beauty, he embraced it, and clung to it, and abandoned himself to it, with all the energies of that same earnest soul. Had he been a "liberal" Jew, we should have far more reason to wonder at his conversion; it is still less probable that God would have selected him for the Apostle of the Gentiles.

An earnest lover of truth, even before his conversion, it followed as a natural consequence, that St. Paul hated error; and for this reason he opposed the Christian religion with all his might, and with his whole soul, because he believed it to be false and dangerous. "You have heard," said he, writing to the Christians of Galatia, "of my conversation in time past in the Jews religion, how that beyond measure I persecuted the Church of God, and laid it waste." But he tells us elsewhere: "I obtained mercy of God, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief." In the same proportion that the earnest man loves what is good and true, he hates what is false and evil, or what he thinks so, and opposes it too. St. Paul opposed the Christian faith with all his power, because he believed it to be false. He was wrong there: it was an error of judgment. He persecuted it too violently, "beyond measure," forgetting the rules of charity. There he was wrong again; it was an error of the heart. But in all this he was in earnest, hating false doctrine; and there he was right. I do not sympathize with his delusion, but I love him for his earnestness.

Oh! how many such men may there not be in this country of ours, that we rank among our bitterest foes!—men who honestly oppose our holy religion, not for what it really is, but what they think it to be. Could we open that sealed and sacred register of the divine counsels, wherein the fortunes of mankind are written, with what delight should we read there the names of many of our bitterest opponents who are destined to kneel and worship with us yet, as others, thank God, have done already! Why not? I do from my heart believe that many of these make war upon us only from mistake of judgment. They know our doctrines only by false report. They judge of our morals only by such Catholics as are either the most ignorant of their own religion, or else entirely false to the teachings of their Church, and strangers to her sacraments, although some of these may be loud enough at times in proclaiming a faith they have not, to further some political pretension, or sanctify some ungodly trade. Under such circumstances it is not strange that many earnest men should set their faces against us. Could they cease to hate our religion, while they believe it to be false? Can they sympathize with us, while they believe us to be corrupted by it? Oh! God, send these men into thy fold! Take off the scales from their eyes, and send them to us. We need earnest men amongst us. The half-hearted, indifferent Protestant who calls himself a liberal, we do not hope for. We have too many such already; we could spare them by the thousand, for they neither save their own souls, nor bring credit to thy cause. But send us earnest men like St. Paul, who know how to hate error, because they love the truth!

If, even when groping in the darkness of Judaism, St. Paul was so honest-hearted and earnest, we shall not find him otherwise when enlightened by the grace of Jesus Christ, and enlisted in his holy cause. He had before him two great enterprises, which require not only large grace from God, but all one's manhood and energy to carry on well. He had his own soul to sanctify and save, and he had an Apostle's work to do. He set about both like a man in earnest, with that deliberate, deep and concentrated enthusiasm which is not wont to fail. Let us see first what care he took of his own salvation.

Would you believe it, my brethren, that St. Paul—after all that wonderful life of toil and privation in the cause of Christ, after his many voyages and frequent shipwrecks, imprisoned often, and dragged before different tribunals, after being scourged five times by the Jews and three times by the Romans, stoned by the mob in the streets and left for dead, wandering about without any fixed home, and often famishing for food and drink, and faint for want of sleep—would you believe, I say, that he yet trembled for fear of being damned? He was afraid lest that poor, emaciated body of his might rebel against the spirit, and drag him into some grievous sin. "Oh! wretched man that I am!" was his mournful cry, "who shall deliver me from this body of death?" For this reason he scourged himself. "Therefore I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection, lest, perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become reprobate." This is being in earnest. I think, my brethren, our bodies are as dangerous to us, as St. Paul's was to him. Are we as much in earnest to guard against a fall? Gluttony, drunkenness, impurity, idleness and effeminacy—these sensual sins are generated in the body. We may not, all of us, be guilty of them, not grossly guilty; but we are none of us quite safe against them. What means do we employ to subjugate our bodies, or was St. Paul less safe than we?

According to the idea of this great Apostle, the way to heaven is a constant and difficult warfare. Nothing in language can be more striking and vivid than his description of an earnest Christian struggling to make sure his salvation. He compares him to wrestlers, boxers, and runners in the public games. Have you ever seen two strong men wrestling? How their muscles harden into knots, and their veins swell full as if they would burst! How all their energies are engaged! How wary they are to guard against a fall, and how quick to seize upon any advantage! Imagine them to be real enemies wrestling for life, and then you have an image of the actual contest of an earnest Christian struggling for salvation with the enemies of his soul. "Brethren," says St. Paul, and I seem to hear those deep tones giving counsel like a friendly voice at the beginning of a deadly fray, "Brethren, put on the armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the snares of the devil. For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places." Tell me, my brethren, is this your idea of the Christian warfare? Is it with this terrible earnestness you struggle to work out your salvation, or do you make a pastime of it?

He compares us Christians to professional racers. "Know you not that they who run in the race all run indeed, but one receiveth the prize? So run that you may win." For my part, he adds, "I so run as not at an uncertainty," not as if I had lost sight of the mark, and were only half conscious of what I were about, but "forgetting the things that are behind, and stretching myself forward to those that are before me, I pursue towards the mark, for the prize of the supernal vocation of God in Christ Jesus." Is this the earnest way we follow out our vocation? Are we thus determined to win?

The Christian warfare requires careful preparation, drill and discipline. In respect to this, St. Paul compares us to professional boxers, and his description shows that these gladiators of the olden time took as much pride in their art, as our modern gentlemen of the prize ring. "Every one that struggles in a combat, abstains from every indulgence; they, indeed, that they may receive a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible." How earnest are these miserable prize-fighters after their belt, and their stakes! How patiently they submit to all the rules of their training-master during their long and painful course of training! What abstinence from food, from indulgence in drink, and all luxurious living, in order to reduce their bodies to the most athletic proportions! What long walks under heavy weights! What fatiguing exercises to harden their muscles! Oh! that we were half as earnest, with heaven for a prize, and all our eternity at stake! We should be sure of victory then. St. Paul was in earnest. "I so fight," said he, "as not having to beat the air, but I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection, lest, perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become reprobate."

We have seen now, how, after his conversion, St. Paul set about the first great business before him—his own salvation. Let us look at him now as an Apostle, engaged in gaining souls to God, and in guarding the flock of Christ intrusted to him. Ah! my dear brethren, here must I be brief. I dare not make any further demands upon your patience. And, besides, who can draw the lineaments of that great Apostle, or paint him in colors worthy of his character? What memory can trace out those long and frequent journeys, with the incessant fatigue of preaching, disputing, and writing, with the "care of all the churches" upon his hands. And yet, not to burden his brethren, he maintained himself in good part by manual labor. What language is gentle enough, and warm enough, to represent that tender and sensitive heart that throbbed in sympathy with all the joys and woes of the Church, and burned with every scandal? "Who is weak," said he, "and I am not weak? Who is scandalized, and I do not burn?" Who can estimate the depth and fulness of that fraternal love, which made him willing to part even with his own hopes of heaven, so it could be done without offence to God, in order to save his brethren? "My conscience bears me witness in the Holy Ghost that I have great sadness, and continual sorrow in my heart, for I wished myself to be an anathema from Christ for my brethren." This is the nearest approach to the love of the Saviour for us, who bore our sins upon the bitter cross, who died that we might live, becoming an anathema for his brethren. Oh! holy zeal for souls! how beautiful it shows in the person of an Apostle like St. Paul! And what an example it is for those of us who are in the sacred ministry. We, too, have a share in his Apostleship; we are charged with the preaching of the Gospel, and the gathering in of souls. We have pledged ourselves to this holy work of duty and charity. Woe to such among us as are not in earnest! Joy to him who, when his Lord comes, shall be able to give a good account of his stewardship!

But you, my dear brethren, have also something to learn from this burning zeal of St. Paul's. You have all something to do with the advancement of your Master's kingdom, and the salvation of souls. When God created the human race, so we read in the Book of Ecclesiasticus, he made each man responsible, in some measure, for the welfare of his fellows: "Mandavit illis unicuique de proximo suo." and there is still a closer and dearer bond which embraces all the members of the great Catholic Church, and holds each one pledged to labor for the salvation of all. Ah! brethren, do not say with the murderer Cain: "Am I my brother's keeper?" What have I to do with the sanctification or ruin of souls? No! no! but take to heart your Master's cause. He came into the world to save sinners. Teach your heart to throb in sympathy with his, until you can say with St. Paul: "Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is scandalized, and I do not burn?" This is to love our Lord in earnest. This is the communion of saints.

We have traced this distinguishing characteristic of the great apostle—this earnestness of his—through his entire career. It only remains now to witness the close of that career. St. Paul died like a man who had lived in earnest, and for whom therefore death has no terrors, "For me to live," said he, "is Christ, to die is gain." Is it possible that any fear of death, any doubt of his salvation could cloud the spirit of such a man in the closing scene of his career? Listen to his parting song of triumph! It comes from his prison at Rome, just upon the eve of his martyrdom. He has still before his mind's eye the combatants and runners in the public games. "The time of my dissolution is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course; I have kept the faith. For the rest there is laid up for me a crown of justice, which the Lord the just Judge will render to me at that day."

Could we say as much, my brethren, if our time were come? Could we claim as manfully to have fought a good fight? Could we claim our reward as confidently? No? Then, alas, we have not been so much in earnest. We have been playing with our salvation, not wrestling for it; we have not been fighting for our faith with the world and Satan, but compromising; we have been resting not running; and if so, what hope have we to reach that crown? Oh, let us bestir ourselves! Let us live like men awake; so let us think, so speak, so act, so move, through this brief but solemn crisis of life, that all who see us may know that, like St. Paul, we are in earnest.

Sermon II.
Unworthy Communion.

"He that eateth and drinketh unworthily,
eateth and drinketh judgment to himself,
not discerning the Body of the Lord."
—1 Cor. xi., 29.
(From the Epistle for Thursday in Holy Week.)

It is customary at certain seasons of the year, for separated members of a family to meet and dine together, as a means of cherishing that affection for one another which we look for among relations. Thanksgiving Day and Christmas are occasions of this kind. The Catholic Church, too, is a great family, and the Paschal Season is such a time with her. She calls her children around her altars, to receive the Body and Blood of her Lord, who is the blessed bond of their union, and of their love. But as in the parable of the rich man's supper there was found one at the table who had not on the wedding garment, and was cast out; therefore the Church warns us at this season, to prepare for the Paschal Feast, that we may not be found unworthy. And to the same end she calls upon us to keep this season of penance, beforehand. In the Church's name, then, and in charity to yourselves, my dear brethren, I am going to lift up my voice this morning, against unworthy communions.

But first, I must tell you, that I do not mean unworthy, in the sense of communions made without profit: as for example, when one makes but little preparation beforehand, and thinks little of what he is doing at the moment, and makes but the poorest sort of thanksgiving afterward. No; compared with such as I mean, these communions are precious and holy. They do but little good to those who make them, it is true; and give but poor honor to God; but at least they are made in the state of grace. By an unworthy communion, I mean one that is made in known mortal sin. I mean a sacrilegious communion. I shall speak, then,—

1. Of communion in itself.
2. Of unworthy communions.
3. Of those who are guilty of them.

I.—What is Communion?

It is the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, given to us as food for the sanctification of our souls and bodies. "He that eateth my Flesh, and drinketh my Blood, hath everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the last day." [Footnote 1]

[Footnote 1: St. John, vi., 55.]

What is Holy Communion? It is to receive the best of friends, who comes to advise us, to cheer and to encourage us. A friend who has power to protect us. Who loves to dwell in our hearts as in a castle, where He may fight for us against the enemies of our soul.

What is Holy Communion? It is a pledge of Heaven, and a foretaste of it. Union with God by a perfect love, will be our happiness for all eternity, and this is begun on earth in Holy Communion. As St. Peter says, it is to be made "partakers of the Divine nature." [Footnote 2]

[Footnote 2: 2 Peter i., 4.]

What is Holy Communion? It is the parting gift of one who loves us better than our mother. He chose the time when He was about to leave us, to give it an additional value. He made it the memorial of His Passion. As in times past, He had given the rainbow as a perpetual remembrance of His mercy, so He willed that the Blessed Sacrament of His Body and Blood, should be a perpetual remembrance of the redemption of the Cross, "Do this in remembrance of Me."

What is Holy Communion? It is the best of all the good gifts of our good God.

II.—What then is it to receive this Holy Communion unworthily? It is to be grievously wanting in reverence to the holiest of all holy things. When you see a person put a thing to an improper use, what do you say? Why, that is too bad; you say. Why, you must be out of your head. Suppose you saw a girl in service, scrubbing the floor with a beautiful camel's-hair shawl, what would you say? Suppose you saw me filling the water stoups at the door, and for that purpose dipping out the holy water, from a pail, with the very chalice I had just used in Mass, what would you say? Why, you would exclaim, how very shocking! what an irreverent Priest! Now why would you say this? Because when God made your soul, He put into it a reverence for certain things, above others. But what does an unworthy communion do? It does this. It takes the Blood of Christ, and pours it down a sink that is more loathsome than a city sewer, for what is so loathsome to God, as a soul in mortal sin? Corruption of matter is good, for God made it, but moral corruption is an abomination to Him.

This one does who conceals a mortal sin in confession.

What is an Unworthy Communion? It is to crucify Jesus over again. What does St. Paul say? "They who have tasted of the Heavenly Gift and are fallen away, crucify to themselves the Son of God, and make a mockery of Him." Now, which is worse, to leave off keeping a man's company, or to play the false friend with him? But this a man does who receives Holy Communion unworthily. The spirit of his act is as if he went up to the throne of God, and caught hold of those Blessed Hands and Feet, and said, "come down to earth and be tormented once more." He would pull off the crown of glory from that Blessed Head, and press down again upon that Brow the crown of thorns.

Nay, it does even worse than crucify Jesus over again. His first crucifixion was a willing one. It was His own love that was the real executioner; but now He is dragged against His will. This is what a man does who gets his absolution on the strength of some promise which he does not intend to keep.

What is an Unworthy Communion? It is to eat and drink one's own damnation. What does St. Paul say again? "He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself." The wood of the cross drank in the Blood of Christ, and was sanctified; and here is a soul that has drunk it in, and is damned. The Centurion was sprinkled with it, as he was piercing the side of Christ with a spear, and it made a Saint of him; but here is a Christian soul, that is damned for being bathed with it. It cleansed the robber's conscience who was hanging beside his Lord, and pleaded mercy for him; but on this soul it cries for vengeance, like the blood of Abel, against another Cain. "Better," said our Lord, "had it been for that man, if he had not been born;" but now, he has anticipated the Day of Judgment upon himself. This a man does who gets his absolution upon the promise of breaking off from a bad companion, which promise he does not mean to keep. I repeat, then, they make unworthy, sacrilegious communions, for instance,

1. Who conceal mortal sins in confession.

2. Who get their absolution on the strength of their promising what they do not intend to perform.

But what am I saying? Surely no one before me has been guilty of this! Well, God only knows. It has been done elsewhere, and may have been done here, for alas, unworthy communions are not such very uncommon things. In case it has been so, I wish to strike terror into such consciences, and to bring them to penance. I wish to prevent such a misfortune, in the parish of St. Paul's, as one coming to the Paschal Feast of the Lamb without his wedding garment.

III. Who has done this?

As our Lord sat at the table with His Apostles, at the Last Supper, he said sadly, "One of you shall betray Me." Each in turn, asked Him eagerly and earnestly, "Lord, is it I?" No, Peter, I foresee that you will deny that you know Me. That you will even swear that you do not. That you will even do this several times; but no, it is not you who will betray Me.

"Lord, is it I?" No, Thomas. You will run away for fear at my death, though you said you would die with Me. You will not believe My word that I am risen, and that I am your Lord, until you put your hand in the prints of the nails; but no, it is not you who will betray Me.

"Lord, is it I?" No, John. You shall be beside Me at the Cross. I mean that you shall have the charge of my mother; oh, no, I do not mean you!

"Lord, is it I?" Thou hast said it, Judas. I made you an Apostle, a pillar of my Church. I called you out of the world, and took you to my bosom, as a dear friend. You have gone in and out, and eaten and drunk with Me. Nay, you have just received My Body and Blood, and all the while you hold the thirty pieces of silver for which you have betrayed Me.

Now, then, I think I hear you say to me: Father, have I then done this horrible thing? Is it I? Is it I? No, my good man. You have enjoyed for years your ill-got gains, but your health has gone now. Declining years have come upon you, and you are poor; you can never restore them again. Your communions are not unworthy for this. But as for you, young man, why have you presumed to come to the altar? Where are those thirty pieces of silver for which you sold your soul? You promised in confession that you would restore them, but why? that you might get your Easter Communion. In your heart you said, Perhaps I will, some day, and all the while, you knew that no absolution is valid without the will to restore, or actual restitution when one is able; and you were able.

Father, is it I? No, poor fellow. You forgot to mention in your last confession, a very grievous sin, and only remembered it just after you had left the altar. Do not be troubled. You tried your best to examine your conscience, but this escaped your memory. It was forgiven with the rest. But what have you to say for yourself, O drunkard? You did not leave out one of your many nights of debauch; but what of that solemn promise to keep from liquor for so long a time, which you have already so often broken, as you had no intention of keeping it? You have drunk in damnation with your liquor, and deeper damnation with your communion.

Father, is it I? No, poor girl. You should have known better than to have trusted yourself to a deceiver with his jewels and wine; but you have done penance. Your sobs in the confessional have spoken for you. Your communion, though so soon after your confession, was good. But what have you to say for yourself, O adulterer, and adulteress? You, O adulterer; you found a home where there were smiles, and fondness, and peace; and what have you done? You have made it a home of jealousy and strife. You have put estrangement between two hearts whom God joined together, and said, "let no man put asunder." You have robbed a fellow man of one of his most sacred rights given him in the face of the Church. And you, O adulteress, why have you come here? Our Lord said to Judas, "Friend, why hast thou come? dost thou betray the Son of Man with a kiss?" You knelt here at the altar-rail, and as the Priest said to you, "The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve thy soul unto everlasting life," you put up your lips, and said, like Judas, Hail Master! and you kissed our Lord. Oh! where was the Angel of the Blessed Sacrament then? An Angel was placed at the gate of Eden with a flaming sword to keep guard over the Tree of Life. Oh! where, I ask, was the Angel of the Blessed Sacrament? Where was His guardian who said of Himself, "I am the bread that cometh down from Heaven, of which whosoever eateth, he shall live forever!" Preserve thy soul unto everlasting life, indeed! It has prepared you for the everlasting burnings; for the flames that shall never be quenched. You went to confession, you say! Yes, I know you did, and you concealed your sins of shame. You have added to these one of sacrilege. And you, O slanderer, who have robbed your neighbor of his character, by your lies and calumnies which you have never told in confession, or if you have, which you never intend to repair at the price of your own dishonor! You have been drinking in your own judgment with the Blood of Jesus. Jesus, judgment! Jesus, damnation! Why St. Bernard said, the very name of Jesus "was music in his ear, honey in his mouth, and joy to his heart." Jesus, damnation! Why St. Gabriel said "He shall be called Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins." O cruel perversion of sin! to turn sweetness into bitterness! But what does God say of such as these? "When you stretch forth your hands, I will turn away My eyes from you and when you multiply prayer, I will not hear for your hands are full of blood." [Footnote 3]

[Footnote 3: Isaias i., 15.]

Let me tell you a fact that a Jesuit told to one of our Fathers. A young man in the neighborhood where he lived, was heir to a large estate, which he was to receive at twenty-one years of age, on the condition that at that time he frequented the Sacraments. He turned out to be very wild and given up to sin. Near the end of his twentieth year, he was reminded of the danger of his losing the estate. Never fear, said he, I'll easily manage that, and at once he began to lead outwardly a very correct life. He was now seen at Mass. He kept out of society, and public places of amusement. Within a short time before his birthday, he went to confession; and the morning came, when he was seen to go up to the altar-rail for communion. The Priest placed the Blessed Sacrament on his tongue, and had turned back to the altar, when he heard a frightful shriek, and the words "My tongue! my tongue! it has burned my tongue!" When the Priest returned to him, he said, "Oh Father, forgive me, my confession was bad, I had been in the secret commission of mortal sins which I purposely concealed. I had no wish to forsake them, but only to secure my property; oh Father, I repent, absolve me before I die!" The Priest took the Blessed Sacrament from his tongue, and with much difficulty consoled him with the promise of pardon. He made a good communion soon after, and was put in possession of his estate, which he sold, and gave to the poor, and in penance for his sins, doomed his false tongue thenceforward to perpetual silence.

Tremble, then, dear brethren, at the thought of so grievous a sin. For such as are guilty of it, there is but one thing to be done. Come back to God with sorrow, now in this time of penance, for, "thus saith the Lord; if your sins be as scarlet they shall be made as white as snow; and if they be red as crimson they shall be as white as wool." [Footnote 4]

[Footnote 4: Isaias 1, 13.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Isaias i., 18.]

Confess your sacrilegious communions. Go and repair the scandal you have given. Restore the goods you have stolen. Abandon the companions of your guilt. Do this, and there will be joy before the Angels of God, and with the Priests to whom you may confide your conscience. If, in spite of all I have said, you live on with the guilt of an unworthy communion, eternal woe will be your portion; from which may God in His mercy deliver you, and all of us. AMEN.

Sermon III.
Christ's Resurrection The Foundation Of Our Faith.

"And when the Sabbath was past,
Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James, and Salome,
brought sweet spices."
—Mark xvi., 1.
(From the Gospel for Easter Sunday.)

On this day, the bosom of the whole Church swells with exultation. After the penance of Lent, after the mourning of Holy Week, the countless disciples of the crucified and risen Saviour, take up and echo through the whole earth the joyful cry—Christ is risen! He is risen indeed. For this is the day on which Jesus Christ, bursting the bonds of the sepulchre, triumphed over death. This is the day which, more than any other, enlivens our faith, strengthens our hope of eternal salvation, and causes our hearts to bound with spiritual joy. Even the coldest and most indifferent Christian feels his bosom warm with some faint sentiment, at least, of devotion on this day, and remembers with pride that he bears the name and professes the faith of Jesus Christ. This is right and proper. For all the doctrines of our religion are centred in the resurrection. All our hopes are based upon it. The Resurrection is the grand Fact of Christianity. It is the proof of the Divinity of Jesus Christ; it is the seal of God which makes the documents of our faith authentic; it is the cause and the pledge of our final resurrection and eternal happiness. This accounts for the joy which swells every true Christian bosom, on this day. For, my dear brethren and I beg you to note it well—the source of our hope and of our joy is in our faith. It is the certainty of faith which banishes all doubt, wavering, hesitation and gloom from the heart of a sincere and fervent Catholic. The faith of the Resurrection must be firmly planted in our minds, if we would have the hope of the Resurrection, and the joy which springs from this hope, bright and glowing in our hearts. Let me therefore ask your attention this morning, while I endeavor to show you what a firm and and immovable foundation we have for our faith, in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. And in doing so, I will endeavor to establish these three points:

First.—That Jesus Christ appealed to his future resurrection, while he was yet alive, as the proof of his Divinity.

Second.—That He actually raised himself from the dead, as he had predicted, and,

Third.—That the Resurrection of Christ proves his Deity, and with it, the entire Catholic faith.

May the grace of the risen Saviour increase our faith, through the intercession of Mary, whose faith never wavered for an instant, even beneath the Cross of her Son!

I.

Jesus Christ asserted frequently and clearly to the Jews, that he was God, and required them to believe him. So his disciples understood him, who believed; so the Jews understood him, who did not believe, but accused him of blasphemy and condemned him to death. The great sign, the miracle, the proof, to which he appealed to justify this declaration, was his resurrection on the third day after his death. He declared himself to be the proper and only begotten Son of God. He that does not believe this, he says, "is already judged, because he believeth not in the Name of the only-begotten Son of God." [Footnote 5]

[Footnote 5: John iii., 17.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is John iii., 18.]

This title of only-begotten which he gives himself, shows that he does not merely claim to be a child of God by grace and adoption, but by nature. This nature he declares positively is not his human nature, but distinct from it, that it came from heaven, and was in heaven as well as on earth. "No man hath ascended into heaven, but he that descended from heaven, the Son of Man who is in heaven." [Footnote 6]

[Footnote 6: John iii., 13.]

He confesses that he is man; but asserts that he is more than man, that he came from heaven. He asserts also that this superior nature which is joined with his humanity is eternal. "Before Abraham was—I am." [Footnote 7]

[Footnote 7: John viii., 58.]

Not I was; but I am, the word by which God made known his eternity to Moses. And finally he declares that this super-human and eternal nature is identical with that of his Father, is the Divine nature itself. "I and my Father are one." [Footnote 8]

[Footnote 8: John x., 38.]

His disciples who believed in him, understood him to teach his divinity. "My Lord and my God." [Footnote 9] was the expression of the faith of Thomas. "The Word was God," [Footnote 10] that of John.

[Footnote 9: John xx., 28.]
[Footnote 10: John i., 1.]

So the Jews understood him, who did not believe. "The Jews answered him: for a good work we stone thee not, but for blasphemy, and because that thou, being a man, MAKEST THYSELF GOD!" [Footnote 11]

[Footnote 11: John x., 33.]

The Jews understood then perfectly well, that in calling himself the true, proper, and only Son of God, the Christ and Saviour of the world; and in working miracles, forgiving sins, and preaching salvation, in his own name, and by his own authority, and not as a mere prophet—he asserted his own true and proper divinity, and made himself God.

In support of this claim, Jesus Christ repeatedly appealed to his resurrection. He foretold his death; and declared that he would show himself to be the true Son of God the Father, having the same divine nature and the same divine power with him; by raising himself from the dead on the third day. "The Son of Man shall be in the heart of the earth, three days and three nights." [Footnote 12]

[Footnote 12: Matt, xii., 40.]

This was said to the Scribes and Pharisees who wished him to give them a sign which should prove him to be the true Christ. When he drove out the men who were trafficking in the courts of the Temple, the Jews said to him: "What sign dost thou show unto us, seeing thou dost these things? Jesus answered and said unto them: Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up. But he spoke of the temple of his body." [Footnote 13] It is remarkable that he does not declare that he will be raised to life by his Father, but by himself. "I lay down my life that I may take it again. No man taketh it away from me, but I lay it down of my self, and I have power to lay it down and I have power to take it up again." [Footnote 14]

[Footnote 13: John ii., 18-21.]
[Footnote 14: John x.. 17-18.]

These are only samples of the frequent and public declarations made by our Lord to the same effect. And it was so well known among the Jews that he had staked his entire cause on his resurrection, that they came to Pilate, immediately after his crucifixion, and said to him: "Sir, we have remembered that that seducer said, while he was yet alive: After three days I will rise again. Command therefore the sepulchre to be guarded until the third day." [Footnote 15]

[Footnote 15: Matt. xxvii., 63-64.]

Here, then, is the grand test of the truth of Christ's doctrine—the grand sign of his divinity; the public challenge which he gives to all his enemies. We have it on the testimony of the most desperate haters of his name and doctrine; the very men who nailed him to the Cross. They were resolved to prove his prediction false, to show that he could not, and would not, rise again, and thus to manifest him to the world as a seducer. At the sepulchre of Jesus Christ, then, is the trial of strength between them. The dead body of Jesus is on one side; the Jewish rulers, the Roman governor, and a strong watch of soldiers on the other. And Jesus Christ overcame; he actually did rise, as he had foretold: "resurrexit sicut dixit;" and all their precautions only served to furnish so many brilliant testimonies to the fact, that he had fulfilled his word.

II.

Picture to yourselves, if you can, the scenes of those three memorable days! The Sun of Justice, the Light of the World, has gone down in darkness. Jesus Christ is dead; he is buried, and a great stone is rolled to the door of the sepulchre. The disciples are scattered here and there, buried in the most profound and bitter disappointment, consternation and grief. The multitudes have fled hastily from Mount Calvary, some beating their breasts with contrition, some blaspheming, but all in terror. The heavens are overclouded and black, the thunder moans, and an earthquake shakes the earth. The frightened inhabitants of Jerusalem, as they return to their homes, are met in the streets by the pale corpses of the dead, who have left their graves, and are wandering about among the living. In the temple, those wicked and unworthy priests are startled at the sudden tearing, by an invisible hand, of the thick and heavy veil which hangs before the Holy of Holies. An ominous stillness sinks over the city of Jerusalem after that dreadful, tragical day. It is the eve of the greatest Sabbath of the year. The Sabbath morning dawns once more; all is apparently quiet, and God does not appear, to take sudden vengeance on his guilty people. Annas and Caiphas, and those other wicked priests who have sacrificed the Lamb of God, with their souls all black and turbid with remorse, but with a grim and diabolical exultation in the success of their horrid work, prepare themselves in splendid vestments for the sacrifices and the ceremonies of the day. The countless multitudes of Jews, gathered together from every part of the world to keep the Passover, crowd the vast courts of the temple. The disciples remain shut up, in silence and in fear. The Roman soldiers guard the shut and sealed sepulchre of Jesus. The day passes and the night, and nothing occurs. The first streaks of the dawn begin to appear in the sky on Sunday morning. The disciples have forgotten the promise of their Master to rise on the third day, and have lost heart entirely. Mary Magdalene, and the other pious women, have planned to steal out early to visit his tomb, and to bring their spices, and perfumes, and fresh flowers, to cast upon his dead body. They set forth together; while still in the distance, they are frightened by the sight of torches and armed men in the garden. They have not courage to go on; and they remember that a great stone is at the door of the sepulchre, which will hinder their entrance. Only the courageous and loving Mary Magdalene has the hardihood to press forward at all risks, leaving the others hovering about in the neighborhood of the garden. As she approaches the sepulchre, she sees the stone rolled away to one side; she pays no attention to the soldiers who are lying on the ground, apparently stunned and insensible, but goes in, and the body of Jesus Christ is not there; his grave-clothes are lying in the spot where his body was placed, and an angel is watching the empty sepulchre. Bewildered and surprised, and occupied only with the thought that the body is gone, she runs hastily back to the place where John and other apostles are staying, tells them in breathless haste what she has seen, and without waiting for a reply, returns as speedily as possible to the sepulchre. Meanwhile, during Magdalene's absence, the other women observing that the soldiers have left the gar-den, come also to the sepulchre, see the stone rolled away, go in, and find two angels sitting, one at the head, the other at the foot of the place where Christ was laid. The angels tell them that Christ is risen, and bid them go announce it to his disciples, and direct them to meet him in Galilee, as he had commanded them before his death. They now leave the garden to return to the city, and Magdalene arrives once more, and while these things are happening the sun has risen, the sun of the first Easter Sunday, the type of the Risen Sun of Justice. Mary Magdalene goes into the sepulchre again, and begins to weep, still too much occupied with the thought that the body of Christ is gone, to reflect on any thing else. She sees the angels; but to the questions: "Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou?" she answers distractedly, "They have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him." She turns around, and sees the figure of a man, whom she takes to be the gardener, and asks him where they have taken the body of Jesus. The well-known voice exclaims: "Mary!" She suddenly recognizes the Lord, and utters a cry of joy: "Oh, my Master!" She tries to clasp him by the feet, but he forbids her, and bids her go, announce his resurrection to the disciples. She sets off immediately, and in a few moments Peter and John arrive, visit the sepulchre, and see that the body is not there. They also return to the city. Immediately after his interview with Mary Magdalene, the Lord appears also to her companions, while they are returning to their homes. He was also seen by Peter some time during the day. Toward evening he joins two of the disciples, who were going to Emmaus, a small village near Jerusalem, and explains to them the prophecies of the Scripture concerning himself, but is not recognized by them, until he blesses bread and gives it to them, and then disappears from view. So the day passes. First one arrives at the coenaculum, and relates his story, then another, then others; the day passes in comparing these different accounts, in conversing together, in expectation of what is going to happen. When night draws on, the apostles and disciples are gathered together for prayer; the two from Emmaus come in just then, and relate their interview with the Lord, when suddenly he appears among them, and says: "Peace be unto you." So passes this day. The four Evangelists give no regular and methodical account of it. All these occurrences are related by some one or more of them; and I have strung them together in an order in which they might have happened, and which reconciles all the accounts with each other.

Such is the narrative of the Gospel. Is it true? Did these things really happen? In regard to one fact, Christians, Jews and Romans were agreed. The body of Jesus Christ was removed from a closed and sealed tomb, guarded by Roman soldiers, by early dawn on the morning of Easter Sunday. It was removed either by Divine power, or by human ingenuity. The rulers of the Jews circulated the report, which they have repeated to this day, that his disciples came and stole him away, while the guard was sleeping. "What!" exclaims St. Augustine, "you will prove your cause by sleeping witnesses?" If they were asleep, they knew nothing of the way by which the body disappeared. And if they were awake to see the disciples steal it, why did they not kill them on the spot. The guard were sleeping! A guard of Roman soldiers. Who can believe that? For a Roman soldier to sleep at his post was an extraordinary and most disgraceful thing, and here we have a whole band of them, with an officer at their head—sleeping. The punishment was death. In this case especially, no mercy could have been expected, where both Roman and Jewish rulers were so deeply interested in putting an end to the religion of Christ. How did they dare confess their sleeping, unless they were in connivance with the authorities, and bribed to repeat this story. Why was no trial held? Why were not these soldiers examined before a tribunal? Why was no search made for the body of Jesus, and for his disciples? Why is the whole matter hushed up by common consent between Pilate and Caiphas? There is only one possible supposition. And that is: that the soldiers saw the resurrection of the Lord—that they related it to their rulers, and that by bribes and threats their testimony was suppressed. I will not pause to accumulate arguments. I will not speak of the impossibility that Jesus Christ should be able to predict that his disciples would attempt such an incredible task as the removal of his body, and succeed in it. I will not speak of their timidity, and their perfect want of all plan of action, all means of carrying out any project whatever; of their complete perplexity and helplessness; and of the utter madness of sacrificing all their worldly goods and their lives, to carry out a manifest imposture. These things are so plain, that reasoning only seems to weaken the effect with which they strike conviction to the mind at the first statement.

I return to this simple fact, that the tale circulated by the soldiers, in common with Pilate and the Jewish rulers, is a complete and irresistible proof of the Resurrection. And there are evidences in abundance that it was so regarded at the time, that this incredible tale was only believed by the most stupid and besotted portion of the populace, and by those who knew nothing of the matter, except what they heard by vague rumors. We have the testimony of Tertullian that even Pilate was convinced of the truth of the resurrection, "Ea omnia super Christo Pilatus, et ipse pro conscientia sua jam Christianus, Tiberio renuntiavit." [Footnote 16]

[Footnote 16: Apol., c. 21.]

Josephus, the Jewish historian, says of Christ, that "he appeared to them alive again, the third day, as the divine prophets had foretold." [Footnote 17]

[Footnote 17: Antiq., Lib. xviii., c. 3.]

Justin Martyr, a most learned Jew, and an eminent philosopher of the second century, who became a Christian, does not fear to assert boldly to the Jews: "You know that Jesus was risen from the dead and ascended into heaven, as the prophecies did foretell was to happen." [Footnote 18]

[Footnote 18: Dial. cum. Tryph., p. 230.]

The fact of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ was so evident, that it paralyzed for a time the efforts of the Jewish rulers to suppress his doctrine. And months elapsed, during which this doctrine made the most astonishing progress, before they dared to put a disciple of Christ to death. It was the manifest fact of the resurrection which caused the sudden and continuous growth and propagation of the Christian Church. Jesus Christ was far more powerful after his death than during his life. Not only did several thousand of the most sincere and pious among the Jews of Jerusalem and Judea, and of the strangers who had come to celebrate the Passover, embrace Christianity, but "a great multitude of the priests also were obedient to the faith." [Footnote 19]

[Footnote 19: Acts i.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Acts vi. 7.]

Nicodemus, one of the most distinguished Doctors of the Law, and Joseph of Arimathea, a wealthy and powerful Jew, and a member of the grand council, who had previously been timid, and had abstained from attaching themselves openly to Christ, came out now publicly and announced themselves Christians. The centurion, or Roman officer, who commanded the soldiers by whom Christ was crucified, with the soldier who pierced the side of our Lord, and several other soldiers, were converted. The tremendous impression made by the resurrection of Christ on the whole Jewish nation, was the cause which gave the impetus to this movement. And it was the resurrection to which the apostles constantly appealed in proof of the divine character of Jesus Christ, and the truth of his doctrine.

III.

Thus did Jesus Christ, by raising himself from the dead, as he had foretold, redeem his pledge, and prove himself to be God. Therefore the Scripture frequently speaks as if Jesus Christ were made the Son of God by his resurrection. "He was," says St. Paul, "predestinated the Son of God in power, by the resurrection from the dead." [Footnote 20]

[Footnote 20: Romans i., 4.]

That is, as St. Ambrose explains it—"He, whose deity was concealed in the incarnation, was predestinated to declare and manifest himself as the Son of God by his resurrection." During his life, he declared himself to be God, and promised to raise himself from the dead on the third day after his death, as a proof of his divinity. He did rise from the dead; and the resurrection is thus the grand proof of the central doctrine of the Catholic faith, the divinity of Christ, and not only of that, but also of every other doctrine connected with it and springing from it—of the Catholic faith complete and entire. It proves not merely the divinity of Christ, but the divinity of his words and of his acts. His words are words of divine truth; his acts are acts of divine power. The same Jesus who raised himself from the dead, said, "This is my body—This is my Blood;" and if we believe that he is truly God, we must believe that the Holy Eucharist is indeed his flesh and blood. The same Jesus who proved his divine power by raising himself from the dead, transferred and delegated his power to St. Peter and his successors, when he said—"Thou art Peter, and on this Rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it, and I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." It is in the Catholic Church that the testimony to the resurrection, commenced by the first apostles, is continued and passed down from age to age, by the unbroken succession of popes and bishops. The apostles were the witnesses of the resurrection. When the new apostle was to be appointed in the place of Judas, St. Peter said—"One of these must be made a witness with us of his resurrection." [Footnote 21]

[Footnote 21: Acts i., 22.]

The Catholic priesthood, as it were, joining hands with each other, run back in an unbroken line to the first fathers and founders of their glorious order, who saw the risen Saviour, and clasped the hands nailed to the cross. Down this line has passed the uninterrupted, unbroken testimony to the resurrection. This day itself, the festival, Easter, is a grand monument of the resurrection. Every year, from this day back to the day on which Christ rose from the dead, the whole Christian Church has celebrated the resurrection of Christ on Easter Sunday. Thus we all join hands with our predecessors in past ages, until the long chain terminates in the little church of the disciples, gathered together in the coenaculum, to whom Christ appeared and said—"Peace be to you." And as we celebrate these joyous festivities, which carry us back to the very days of our Lord and his apostles, an electric shock of faith startles and reanimates our souls. Yes; this is the day of faith. It is the special festival of faith. The resurrection confirmed and renewed the wavering, sinking faith of the disciples. "The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared unto Simon." These words show how those fainting and almost despairing hearts revived on that day. Oh! wretched and miserable men, such as Pilate and Caiphas, and the besotted multitude, who did not, would not believe—or at least would not act on their convictions, and confess the truth! Equally unhappy are those now, who have no faith; who do not believe in the Son of God; who do not await the resurrection of the dead; who believe in nothing, but pass their lives in miserable and endless doubting and unbelief.

Equally unhappy are those who, though enlightened once in baptism, and brought up from childhood in the Catholic faith, are weak, wavering and hesitating in their faith; who neither believe or disbelieve; who dare not renounce their religion, and yet will not adhere to it firmly and profess it openly; but hang, as it were, in the outskirts of faith, and around the courts of the temple of Divine Truth.

Equally unhappy are those who, believing firmly, deny their faith by their acts, and disobey the Lord whom they acknowledge to be their true God and their final Judge; who, on the day when Christ is risen from the dead, lie buried in the grave of mortal sin; who have no part in his life and grace, and have not received his Paschal sacraments.

But blessed are they who believe; whose hearts are full of faith, and whose works correspond with that faith;—into whose bosoms the Paschal joy has entered by the devout reception of the Sacraments of Penance and the Eucharist, and who can look forward with hope to the day of the general resurrection from the dead. For all such good Christians, this is the brightest, the happiest, the most glorious day of the whole year. All things sympathize with the joy of the risen Saviour. The earth breaks the icy bonds of winter, and starting from the state of lifelessness, awakes to new life and growth and freshness. The spring begins to appear, and the signs of approaching warmth and of the time of buds and blossoms and green foliage show themselves. The Church puts on her festal attire and sends up her joyous hymns, and solemnizes her splendid ceremonies. The faithful everywhere, leave their sins, do penance for their misdeeds, weep at the foot of the cross, reconcile themselves with God, and come with purified hearts to partake of the Paschal Lamb—the flesh and blood of the Divine Jesus, in the blessed Sacrament of the altar. And while we go back in our thoughts to that day on which Christ arose, the first-begotten from the dead, all these external signs and ceremonies point also forward to that last Easter Sunday—that day of the resurrection of all mankind. The change and renovation of the earth in the season of spring, and the resurrection of souls by the Paschal sacraments, and the solemn celebration of Christ's resurrection, these are all types of that glorious morning when the redeemed human race shall start from its tomb; when the old things shall pass away, and all things, the heaven and the earth, and all things that are in them, shall be made anew. When the obscurity of faith shall give place to the light of glory, and the hope of salvation shall be changed into the beatific vision of God.

Sermon IV.
Giving Testimony.

"You shall give testimony of me."
—John xv., 27.
(From the Gospel for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost.)

These words were spoken by our Lord to his disciples, before his departure from this world. He had chosen them from the beginning, and imparted to them a full knowledge of the truth, that they might bear testimony to it. "All things whatsoever I have heard from my Father I have made known to you."—"I have chosen you, and have appointed you, that you should go, and should bring forth fruit, and your fruit should remain." [Footnote 22]

[Footnote 22: John xv., 15, 16.]

The disciples did give testimony. They labored in season and out of season in spreading the truths which they had learned from the lips of our Saviour. "Their sound went over all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world." [Footnote 23]

[Footnote 23: Rom. x., 18.]

Their testimony was not only in sound and words: their lives testified to the truth which they preached. They suffered persecution, poverty, imprisonment, and sealed their testimony to the truth with their blood, by willingly laying down their lives for it. These disciples were true to Christ. Their testimony was faithful, loyal, heroic. We, too, are disciples of Christ, and have our testimony to give; and I propose to show in the first place, what are our obligations to give this testimony of Christ; and in the second place, who are those who fail in their obligations to give this testimony.

What are our obligations to give testimony of Christ? There are many Christians who seem to think that they are at liberty to choose what course of life they please, that they can live as they like; that whether they attend to their religious duties or neglect them, whether they are patterns of Christian virtue or scandals to their faith, is nobody's business.

This opinion is false, most false, because all Christians are under a lasting obligation to Christ to lead a Christian life.

Christ is our Lord and Master, and as such has a complete right of control over all our actions. There can be no dispute about this. "You call me Master and Lord." says he; "You say well, for so I am." [Footnote 24]

[Footnote 24: 1 John xiii., 13.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is John xiii., 13. (Gospel, not epistle.)]

Christ is not only our Master and Lord, but also our Creator, "for by Him all things were made that are made." His dominion over us is therefore absolute and supreme. In His presence we are simply subjects, and have only duties to fulfil.

Christ as Man has the full right of purchase over us. He can claim of us all our actions, for he redeemed us from the captivity and slavery of sin. "Knowing that you were not redeemed," says the Apostle Peter to the faithful, "with corruptible gold or silver from your vain conversation of the tradition of your fathers; but with the precious blood of Christ." [Footnote 25]

[Footnote 25: 1 Peter i., 18, 19.]

Can any one who listens to these words be so destitute of intelligence and faith as to entertain the idea, for a moment, that God created us and became man and died for us, only to leave us at liberty to live as we please, and to sin as much and as often as we like? No; says the Apostle Paul, "Christ died for all." And why? Listen, faithless Christian: "That they also who live may not live to themselves, but to Him who died for them, and rose again." [Footnote 26]

[Footnote 26: 1 Cor. v., 15.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is 2 Cor. v., 15.]

What is it to live to Christ? To live to Christ is, to live to please Him; it is to follow in His footsteps and copy in our lives His virtues. This is made clear from what the same Apostle says in another place, on the same subject: "Our Saviour, Jesus Christ, gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a people, acceptable, pursuing good works." [Footnote 27]

[Footnote 27: 2 Titus ii., 14.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is: Titus ii., 14.]

A Christian, then, is one who lives to Christ by keeping free from all iniquity and pursuing good works. This is the testimony that Christ requires of us, and which we are bound to give by every sacred obligation which binds us to Him as our Creator and Redeemer.

Another reason why we are under obligation to give testimony of Christ by leading an exemplary life, is that Christ came into the world not only to be our Redeemer, but also our Model. Hear him: "You call me Master and Lord, and you say well, for so I am, … and if I, then, being your Lord and Master have given you an example, as I have done to you, so you do also." [Footnote 28]

[Footnote 28: St. John xiii. 13, 14, 15.]

For is there any one so uninstructed as not to know that it was wholly unnecessary for Jesus Christ to practise on his own account, humiliations, poverty, obedience, self-denial, meekness, and embrace the sufferings and bitter death of the cross. He practised these virtues in order to induce us to practise them, for these were due to us as punishment for our sins, and necessary for us as preservatives against our vices. God became man to teach men by example how they ought to live. "Christ suffered for us," says the apostle St. Peter, "leaving you an example, that you should follow his steps." [Footnote 29]

[Footnote 29: 1 Peter ii., 21.]

He then is false and faithless to his obligations, who claims the name of a Christian, and does not follow in Christ's footsteps. No Christian, then, has the right to live as he likes, but is bound to live as Christ likes.

The Holy Church too, has a right to exact from us the obligation to lead an exemplary life. For as in a flock of pigeons, on seeing one fly all the others follow, so it is in the society of the Church, the good example of one member encourages and edifies the whole body. That you may understand the watchfulness and jealousy of our Lord over his flock, listen to his own language: "He that shall scandalize one of these little ones that believe in me, it were better that a mill-stone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depths of the sea. … Woe to that man by whom scandal cometh." [Footnote 30]

[Footnote 30: Matt, xviii., 6. 7.]

The Church has not only the right to claim from us to follow in Christ's footsteps for the sake of believers, but also for the unbeliever. According to the words of Christ: "Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father in heaven." [Footnote 31]

[Footnote 31: Matt, v., 16.]

It is more by the testimony of a good example than by miracles, that unbelievers are brought to the light of truth. This is illustrated by the example of the martyr St. Lucien. It is related of him by Surius, that he led many unbelievers to the knowledge of the truth and to embrace the Catholic faith, by the modesty of his life and his exemplary conduct. So powerful was the influence of his example, that the Emperor Maximilian, when seated upon his throne and about to condemn him to death, commanded that he should be kept out of his view, behind a veil, lest even the mere sight of the saint should change him into a Christian. Is it not then with good reason St. John Chrysostom says: "There would be no heathens were we such Christians as we ought to be. … Paul was but a man, yet how many did he draw after him! If we were all such as he, how many worlds might we have drawn to us!" [Footnote 32]

[Footnote 32: 1 Tim. Hom, x.]

How was it St. Paul attracted so many to Christ? He tells us himself, in these words: "Give no offence to the Jews, nor to the gentiles, nor to the church of God; as I also please all men in all things, not seeking that which is profitable to myself, but to many; that they may be saved." [Footnote 33]

[Footnote 33: 1 Cor. x., 31, 32.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is: 1 Cor. x., 32-33.]

It is clear, then, beyond all dispute, that every one who claims the name of a Christian is bound by a lasting and sacred obligation to give testimony to Christ by following in his footsteps, and consequently those who fail are guilty of robbing their Lord and Master of his rights, and are no true Catholics, but traitors to the faith.

Who are they who fail to give this testimony of Christ? I will tell you.

You will find many who were born of Catholic parents, were baptized in the faith when young, and yet never acknowledging the faith of their fathers, and of their baptism. They are not open apostates, they neither attack their faith, nor defend it when attacked. You might know them for years and not dream that they were Catholics. It is hard to tell what they really are. They are not Protestants, nor Jews, nor Turks, for these have religious convictions, and do not deny them, but the men I speak of either have no religious convictions, or want the manliness to acknowledge them. They do not like to be known as Catholics, and yet they identify themselves publicly with free-masons, odd-fellows, and similar secret societies.

Another class consists of those who confess themselves Catholics, but never, or very rarely, enter the Church. They take offence at the slightest irregularity, whether it be in the priesthood, or the preaching, or in the manner of conducting public worship; and under some such pretext they excuse their grievous neglect of worship, and their profound indifference to all the sacred duties of religion. These claim the name of Catholic, and their conduct is that of an infidel.

A third class is composed of those who now and then on occasion of a jubilee or a mission, or some similar event, come to Church, and perhaps receive the holy sacraments. Their religion is like a fire in the straw, it soon dies out. Talk to these men of their business, and they will tell you that a man who does not watch and pay constant attention to it, will soon find himself bankrupt. Speak to them of the affairs of the nation, and they will tell you that the country is going to ruin, because its citizens neglect to attend political meetings and fail to approach the polls at election times. On business, or politics, on almost every thing but their religion, they reason correctly, and act like sensible men; on their duties to God and the affairs of their soul they appear to be as destitute of reason as they are of loyalty. Money is their God, and their religion is politics.

The fourth class is made up of the rank and file of sinners—cursors, drunkards, and the army of grog-shop keepers. These latter, under the pretext of making a living, spread more misery, wretchedness, and crime among our people, than all the plagues of Egypt brought upon the inhabitants of that land. The source of nine-tenths of the scandal to our holy religion is in the grog-shops; and to make the scandal of their vile and unlawful traffic more conspicuous, they congregate by preference in the neighborhood of a Church, justifying the well-known proverb:

"Where God erects a house of prayer,
Satan must have a chapel there."

The grog-shop keepers are the worst enemies of our holy religion in this country, for they not only occasion the destruction of a vast number of Catholics, but by the disgust which their bad example creates, they offer the greatest hindrances to the conversion of non-catholics.

These are some out of the great number of those who fail to give testimony of Christ; for we have not the time to enumerate all. Now, what is very strange, and yet characteristic of all these, they appear to live as though they were unconscious of their obligations, and of the guilt which they incur. They seem to think that if they are allowed to assume the name of a Christian or Catholic, they are safe. Well then, asks one, why not exclude them from the Church altogether, so that the whole world can see what they are? This is the way we do away with unprofitable subjects in other institutions. Take, for example, a railroad corporation. Sometimes a company of this kind starts with great prospects. The number who travel on the road is prodigious. The stockholders congratulate themselves on a heavy dividend; when to their wonder, on reckoning up their accounts, they find the company running fast into bankruptcy. Investigations are made, and it is discovered that a large number of the passengers have been paying no fare, riding as "dead-heads." These being struck off, the corporation begins to prosper again. Not so with the holy Church. She is in this respect unlike all other institutions. She is likened by her Founder to a field of wheat, in which the enemy had sown cockle. And when one of the servants said to the master: "Wilt thou that we go to gather it up? and he said, no; lest while you gather up the cockle, you root up the wheat also together with it. Let both grow until the harvest; and in the time of harvest, I will say to the reapers, gather up first the cockle, and bind it into bundles to burn; but gather the wheat into my barn." [Footnote 34]

[Footnote 34: Matt, xiii., 28-30.]

The time to cut off the faithless children, the "dead-heads" of the Church, is not now, but "in the harvest time," the day of general reckoning, when our Lord shall appear in power and majesty to judge the world. Then he will say to these: "I am your Lord and Master, why have you not obeyed me?" He will show them his wounds, and say: "Behold the price I paid to redeem you from sin! What right had you to refuse my service? I came upon earth to give an example that you might follow my steps, and you turned your back upon me! You were a scandal to the Church, and a stumbling-block in the way of others. You refused to give testimony to my mercy, now you shall give testimony to my sovereign justice. Gather up this cockle, these faithless, false, treacherous disciples," he will say to his servants, "and let their portion be in the pool which burns with fire and brimstone." [Footnote 35]

[Footnote 35: Apoc. xxi., 8.]

Could but our voice reach the ears, and our entreaties penetrate the hearts of these guilty Catholics, we would lift it up and cry out to them: Do penance speedily! Repair by a good example the evil which your bad example has caused to your neighbor. Strive to gain more souls to Christ than your wicked life has lost to him heretofore. Let your good works shine out the more, so that like the servant of the eleventh hour, you may obtain the full wages of eternal life.

As for you, dearest brethren, who have manfully withstood until now all temptations to be disloyal to your faith, whose lives, full of good works, have borne noble testimony to Christ, lift up your eyes and hearts to heaven at this season of our Lord's ascension. "I go," he says, "to prepare a place for you. I will come again, and will take you to myself; that where I am, you may be also." [Footnote 36]

[Footnote 36: John xiv., 2, 3.]

Sermon V.
Spiritual Death.

"Behold! a dead man was carried out."
—St. Luke vii., 12.
(From the Gospel of the 15th Sunday after Pentecost.)

What a touching occasion was this, in which our Blessed Lord was pleased to manifest his power, and perform one of his many acts of infinite mercy; an act, which like all his miracles, was not only full of loving-kindness to those for whom it was performed, but also replete with spiritual instruction for all.

A widow is bereaved of her only consolation, a son, in whom were centred all her hopes, in whose happiness all her own was bound up; the pride of her eyes, her joy in adversity, and the sunshine to her poor heart in the cloudy days of sorrow.

Perhaps, too, he was her only support; his the arm which labored for their daily bread, and she looked forward to the time when age and gray hairs should bring infirmity, and her enfeebled body tremble on the verge of the grave; then would he be the light to her dimmed eyes, and a guide to her tottering steps.

And now, alas! he is gone! Is the world all dead? Is it always night? Do the birds sing no more? Are the earth and sky all wrapped in a great, gloomy mantle of grief? Where is her heart, does it beat no more? Ah! so it is indeed to her.

How she watched him in the long hours of his racking pains, his burning fever. At times he did not know her; her, his own dear mother. Oh! how she prayed for him. Oftentimes, as he lay upon his dying bed unconscious, she would kneel down beside him, and take his thin wasted hand in hers, and lift up her streaming eyes to God, the Father of the fatherless, and pour forth her soul in an agony of supplication, beseeching Him to spare her only son, her life, her all.

In vain. That hand grows cold within her grasp; those eyes, which erewhile were so full of expression, have assumed a dull glassy unmeaning stare, there is one shuddering convulsion, the breathing ceases, his jaw drops, and she is a broken-hearted, childless widow. That body, once so cherished and tenderly cared for, must soon be removed far away out of sight, and now, amid the lamentations of a sympathizing multitude, they carry it to the grave. She feels her loss so keenly that the very carriers of the bier seem to her to be heartless and unfeeling. Thus the scene in the Gospel opens: "Behold, a dead man is carried out." I know that poor widow. I have seen that dead man, her only son, the cherished idol of her heart, many a time. I know well those bearers, and they are assuredly most heartless and unfeeling. I have seen the Lord stop them on their way, as they carried him to the portals of death and hell.

Would you know who they are? Sinner! offspring of Holy Mother Church, part and parcel of her own life, who by sin hast lost the life of grace; it is thou! Behold thou art the dead man who is carried out. Contemplate thyself as in a mirror in this example from the Holy Gospel.

The Church has done for you all, aye, and more than this poor widow did, or could do, for her only son.

She has given you a noble birth in Jesus Christ. She nourished you, watched over, and cared for you, in your infancy. She flattered herself, poor mother, that you would do honor to her one day; she looked forward to the time when you would become her support. She was so bound up in you, that she often exclaimed with a truth, "Why do I live if it be not for my child?" Her very occupation, her unceasing labors were for you. How proud she was to see you increasing in grace with God and men, your manly soul strong in virtue; your conscience bright and fair to look upon as the face of an angel, thrilling her maternal heart with gladness, as she beheld reflected there the lineaments of the sacred countenance of her Divine Spouse.

Alas! that any thing so bright? and beautiful should ever know decay or death!

Hear the sad story. Disease came. Sin entered into your soul, as does the insidious pestilence into the very marrow of the bones. And now the frightened mother looks with dismay upon your changed features. You are becoming emaciated, your soul, starving in sickness, is no longer cheerful with the love of God. Although so haggard and so woebegone, there is yet the hectic flush of the fever of passion. At times in the height of that fever your mind wanders: you do not know her, her! your own dear mother? So low has sin brought you, so far has sin abased you, that you have forgotten your noble descent and your glorious destiny. The crime of disobedience to the law of God has done its work, and that soul which once walked so proudly erect now lies completely prostrated.

Oh! how that Mother Church prays for you! With outstretched arms to heaven she implores the divine mercy. "Spare, O Lord, spare thy people, and give not thine heritage to reproach." Leave me not alone without this only son of my heart, for whom Christ died! But you are in your agony now, and hear nothing. You are not moved to tears, as you would be, if you could but hear those agonizing prayers. You lie indifferent to all around, while the disease fastens upon your very vitals: one sin after another, one temptation given way to after another, until the life-blood of your soul has frozen in its channels: and before your weeping, inconsolable mother, the Church—before God, and in sight of His holy Angels and Saints, you are dead! dead!! dead!!!

Like the fruitless church of Sardis, in the Apocalypse: "Thou hast a name that thou livest, but art dead." [Footnote 37]

[Footnote 37: Apoc. iii., 1.]

What are the signs, my brethren, by which you would pronounce a man dead? Surely, that he has no longer the use of any of his senses; that he can neither see, hear, taste, touch nor smell. If nothing remained to him but faint breathing, and a fluttering, feeble pulse, you would already weep for him as lost to you, and consider it only as the matter of a few moments to draw the sheet over his face, and prepare his shroud.

Now this is just the deplorable state of a man in mortal sin.

Let me illustrate this. If you saw a person walking upon a railroad track, and the train came thundering along directly in front of him, and yet he proceeded on his way, totally unmindful of your shouts and warnings of danger, you would throw up your hands and exclaim: "Ah! God have mercy on him, poor man; he must be totally blind and deaf—he is as good as dead." And so he is in effect; for the train passes over him, and scatters his mangled body hither and thither. Of what use to him was his power of motion? He had the name of a living man, and is dead. So death is coming upon you, sinner, sudden and destructive. How many sermons have you not heard upon that awful subject? How many warnings have you not had in the deaths, ever unlocked for, alas! too often unprovided for, among your friends, acquaintances, and in the very bosom of your family. You hear not, you see not; no warning will turn you from your fatal track. You are as good as dead.

If you saw a young girl walking to the brink of one of those dreadful precipices formed by the lofty palisades on the North River, and, despite the cries of her friends, she continued her walk, gazing up at the sky, would you not say: "Ah! poor thing, she must be killed; she is as good as dead." Oh, young woman, you are walking upon the brink of a precipice, by your dangerous familiarities, your late hours, your improper company-keeping; and despite the cries of your father, your mother, the pleadings of your friends, and the warning voice of your confessor, your heedlessness in sin will destroy you, body and soul, and you must lose reputation, honor, salvation, eternity. Deaf to the voice of God, you are as good as dead.

Jesus daily prepares his divine banquet for you; but, alas! you have lost your spiritual taste for that heavenly food, and there is no life in you—you are dead; according to the words of the divine Saviour: "Amen, Amen. I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you." [Footnote 38]

[Footnote 38: St. John vi., 54.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is: St. John vi., 53.]

The Lord strikes you with afflictions of various kinds: disease, loss of friends, misfortune in your business. He sends his angel of death to your very doors; but you are insensible to his chastisements: they affect you no more than if you were a statue of marble. Is not this to be indeed dead?

"You have put on malediction as a vestment, and it has entered like water into your veins, and as oil into your bones." [Footnote 39]

[Footnote 39: Psalms cviii., 18.]
[Transcriber's note: Psalms cviii ends at verse 14.]

Yes; corruption has commenced; you have become offensive as a corpse, of bad odor, and scandalous to the Christian community. The finger is pointed at you, your bad life is every where spoken of, but you do not believe it; like a corpse, you are not sensible of the disgust you excite. As the sister of Lazarus said to the Lord: "It is now four days since he died, and already he stinketh." Four days! Why, it is four months—four years—forty years, since you died—since you committed mortal sin, and continued in it, oh! unrepentant sinner; and you have become insupportable. You have reaped the blasting curse you sowed: "For he that soweth in the flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption," the words of this day's Epistle. [Footnote 40]

[Footnote 40: Gal. vi., 8.]

Your dead soul is in the hands of the bearers, your companions in sin, your fellow cursers and blasphemers. The grog-shop keepers have got hold of you, and every step is a closer approach to the tomb, the gates of hell, the last home of fornicators, liars, and drunkards. How insensible you lie in their hands! The multitude may weep, in company with your poor mother, piercing cries and sobs which are heard throughout heaven and hell, but make no impression on your dull ears. No! there is no sound [that] can wake you now, but the voice of Jesus Christ, or the last trump which will summon your guilty soul to judgment.

Will that voice of Jesus Christ be heard? I know not. Will the Lord be moved to pity toward his weeping Church? I know not. Will he touch the bier upon which you are stretched stark dead, and command those companions of yours in sin to stop? I know not. Will Jesus arrest the steps of that infamous woman, of those debased, pitiless, heartless, unfeeling dram-sellers? (Did I not say that the widow was right—that they are heartless and unfeeling?) I know not. What I do know is that, if Jesus is not moved to pity, if he does not strike fear into the heart of that young man or woman, your companion in sin, if the arm of the vengeance of Christ does not fall upon that grog-shop keeper,—no other sound will waken you, so dead in sin, but that one upon the Last Day, which rather than to hear, it were better for you to sleep in eternal oblivion.

"Ah! father," you say, "that's dreadful doctrine." Yes; and there is something more dreadful about it. It is true. What saith the Apostle? "It is impossible for those who were once illuminated and have tasted the heavenly gift, and are fallen away, to be renewed again to penance, crucifying again to themselves the Son of God, and making him a mockery." [Footnote 41]

[Footnote 41: Heb. vi., 4-6.]

What does this mean but that, when one has fallen away into mortal sin, it is as impossible for him to do any thing toward the salvation of his soul, as it is for a dead man to raise himself to life. Lay it to heart—a most important truth—that Almighty God owes you nothing; is not bound, nor has he promised, to give you grace beyond a certain degree; while he has most emphatically warned the sinner that the time will come, and who knows—oh! dreadful thought—but that it has already arrived for you, when he will withdraw his countenance from you, and leave you to the fate you have chosen, and so justly merited. Every child has amused himself on the banks of the river or brook, watching the eddies caused by the meeting of contrary currents, and observing how the brown leaves which have fallen from the trees into the stream are suddenly caught in the circling current and whirled about, approaching at each revolution nearer the centre of it. Now, we are told by travellers, that in the vast ocean there are powerful and dangerous eddies of this sort, called whirlpools; and that large ships, if allowed to sail within their influence, are drawn in, and carried round and round, no longer obedient to the sails or rudder, and at last are completely swallowed up in the yawning vortex of whirling waters.

Oh! unrepentant sinner: you are the brown leaf, fallen from the tree of life into the water of iniquity. You are the ship which has lost its compass, and strayed within reach of the dizzy whirlpool. God stood upon the calm open sea, and each time that you came around he warned you of your danger. He did more; he sent strong and sufficient breezes of his holy grace; if you had taken advantage of them in trimming the sails, and putting up the helm, you might have escaped. How many times did he not thus attempt your rescue: but you heeded him not. There was even something pleasant and intoxicating to be thus carried along in the powerful stream; and now you go faster and faster, nearer and nearer, until the yawning abyss opens upon your gaze, and you send forth a shriek for help, a cry of despair. But you are so dizzy that you cannot descry the form of God upon the sea. It is well; it would double your agony to see him now, for he has turned his back upon you; or worse, is mocking you, and laughs you to scorn. "Because I called and you refused; I stretched out my hand, and there was none that regarded. You have despised all my counsel, and have neglected my reprehensions. I also will laugh in your destruction, and will mock when your fear cometh. When sudden calamity shall fall on you, and destruction as a tempest shall be at hand; when tribulation and distress shall come upon you; then shall they call upon me, and I will not hear." [Footnote 42]

[Footnote 42: Prov. i., 24-28.]

There is no help for you now. Your cries of distress, and prayers and entreaties are drowned in the thundering din of the rushing waters: as our Lord prophesied. "Upon the earth distress of nations, men withering away for fear, by reason of the confusion of the roaring of the sea, and of the waves." [Footnote 43]

[Footnote 43: St. Luke xxi., 25.]

What is that which is glimmering white like a sail upon the waves? Can it be a friendly ship coming to your rescue? Hark! Tramp, tramp, over land, over sea. Why does that sound send a shuddering thrill of horror through every nerve? 'Tis no sail. 'Tis a pale horse, and he that rideth thereon is Death. Tramp! tramp! over land, over sea! Oh! woe betide thee, wretched sinner; thine hour is come. One last cry, and the waters of iniquity have closed over you forever! Oh, God! have mercy on poor sinful men, and according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out their iniquities. If thy people Israel shall have sinned against thee, and thou in thine anger hast delivered them up into the hands of their enemies, and they return to thee with all their heart, and confessing to thy name shall come, and pray, and make supplication to thee, then hear thou in heaven, thy dwelling place, their prayers; and forgive thy people, and have compassion upon them, and help thy servants whom thou hast redeemed by thy precious blood. What answer dost thou make, O dearest Lord?—"He that heareth you heareth me." [Footnote 44]

[Footnote 44: St. Luke x., 16.]

Thy words, O Jesus, are truth and life. Thou hast commanded thy priests, the ministers of thy word, to speak in thy name; to stand in the path of sinners on the way to destruction, and make thy voice to be heard, ("Arise! thou that sleepest, and awake from the dead!") as thou didst to the only son of the widow of Nain. "Be not deceived," says the holy Apostle in the Epistle of this day. "God is not mocked." "He that despiseth you despiseth me." [Footnote 45]

[Footnote 45: St. Luke x., 16.]

In the name of God, then, obedient to the charge which I, although unworthy, have received from the Lord Jesus, I say unto you, arise! Arise from those disastrous habits of sin, which are dragging you down to death and hell. Abandon, once for all, those horrid haunts of vice and immorality. Put away all those obscenities, evil speakings, and cursings, from your lips; of the which I tell you, as has been already foretold you, that they who do such things, shall not obtain the kingdom of God. Young man, I say unto thee, arise! Oh! wretched parents, whose miserable home is a very school of Satan to your hapless children; whose daily lives are as an open book before their eyes, every leaf of which is blotted and blurred with drunkenness and disorder—I say unto you, oh, wicked father, oh, slothful mother, arise! You, young woman, over whose head ruin and shame are hanging, arise! send that young man away to-night.

You who have dealt out disgrace, dirt, delirium tremens, ruin, and the wrath of God, by the measure, to your poor fellow sinner, and upon whose guilty head will fall a double weight of woe—I say unto you, arise! turn to the Lord, and perhaps he will have mercy upon you. Do penance, do penance! and think not to say within your hearts: We have Abraham for our father; we have the Church for our mother—she will watch over us Catholics, and before it is too late, snatch us from the jaws of hell. I say unto you, sinner, you are deceiving yourself with a lie, and your supine indifference proves you to be of that un-happy number described in Holy Writ, who resisted so long to the Divine call, that, hardened in iniquity, God gave them over to believe a lie. Thus, instead of your faith saving you, it will only be a surer cause of your damnation. Oh! you hope in the mercy of God. Poor soul! God, notwithstanding his mercy, permitted you to fall into your present deplorable state. Why shall he not permit you to fall into eternal death, which, howsoever terrible and hopeless, is not so bad, so evil after all, as your spiritual death: for so say the Doctors of Holy Church. "The punishment of sin is less than the guilt."

Between spiritual and eternal death there is but a step—taken every day by one or another in this sinful world—and that is the death of the body; and if it happens to you to-day, without doubt, without remedy or resource, you will find yourself eternally lost; which may God avert from every one of you. Amen.

Sermon VI.
The Love Of God.

"And one of them, a doctor of the law, asked him, tempting him: Master, which is the great commandment of the law? Jesus said to him: Thou shall love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul and with thy whole mind." —St. Matt, xxii., 35-37.
(From the Gospel for the 17th Sunday after Pentecost.)

This doctor of the law had no good motive in asking his question. He was full of malice, and desired, not to learn any thing good himself, but to entrap our Lord. But God knows how to draw good out of evil. Though the lawyers intention was bad, his question was a good one; the very best question that he could have asked, and the answer to it one of vast importance to us, involving all our interests for eternity. Let us to-day consider well the meaning of the answer given by our Blessed Saviour in the words of the text. In the first place, what does he mean by the love of God? and in the second, what degree of this love must we practise?

What is the love of God, or in what does it consist? Many have a false idea of it. They think it is exactly the same as earthly love, the love of relations or friends. They know what that kind of love is. They exercise it without difficulty. Why? because it is spontaneous; it is a flowing out of the heart, an emotion or feeling. They cannot feel the same love for God as for their friends, and therefore they conclude it is of no use to try to love God. They make a great mistake. God is a pure spirit, not to be seen, heard, or taken notice of by the senses, and therefore, in the very nature of things, He cannot always be loved with that same emotion or feeling that springs up in our hearts, without effort, toward our neighbors and friends of flesh and blood. Indeed God, considered as an infinite being, with all his vast and unlimited perfections, seems in some way separated from us and our thoughts, which makes a difficulty in feeling emotions of love to Him. The essence of the love of God is not in emotion or feeling, but in our reason and will. Faith reveals Him to us, and we acknowledge Him with our reason to be infinitely wise and infinitely good, and worthy of all our love. The true love of God consists, then, in acknowledging Him with our reason to be what He is, and in the will to do that which is pleasing to Him.

The other kind of love—of feeling—may accompany this true love of God or it may not. It is of no consequence whether it does or not. We have no right to expect it, for God will grant it just as far as He sees good for us and no farther. It will come, generally, as the result of habits of virtue, of a long course of action, in imitation of His holy perfections. We must learn to know Him and prize Him in order to feel love for Him.

That this is the true idea of the love of God is clear from the Holy Scriptures. In the Gospel of St. John it is thus described: "For this is the charity of God, that we keep his commandments." It is not said: The love of God is in a delightful feeling that possesses one without any effort on his part. That would be very pleasant and very easy. No; that is not said. But the meaning of what is said is, that the love of God is in the will and determination to keep his commandments. In another place it is said in plain terms: "He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me." As much as to say: If your mind and will are directed to me in such a way that you keep my commandments, don't be worried or afraid, you do most truly love me. Now this ought to console any one who really and truly wants to love God, for we see that it lies in his power to do so. He need not go into raptures of fervor. He need not fly in the air in an ecstasy. He need not see visions or work wonders. He need not practise extra ordinary fasting or austerity, or spend whole nights in prayer. He need only have a determination, let him feel well or ill, that he will honestly and sincerely act so as to be agreeable to God, and he loves Him. Let him go on acting in that way and he will soon love Him exceedingly, far more than any thing in this world. Another argument that proves conclusively that this is the true love of God, comes from this very command of our Lord Jesus Christ: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind." The love of God is commanded. Now God commands nothing impossible, nothing, in short, which is very difficult to set about. As he is a God of infinite goodness and love, the bare idea of such a thing is wholly repugnant to right reason and common sense. If He had commanded us to exercise a sensible love—one of feeling—we might justly complain and say: I cannot fulfil it; that is a thing beyond my control. We have to set about a practical love—keeping his commandments, that is a business we can give our mind and attention to, as we would to farming, building, doctoring, or any other business. If a man will set about the business of practically acting according to the will of God, he will add every day to his stock of love and to his merit in heaven. This is a rich mine; it is inexhaustible; out of this mine is drawn the pure gold of charity to God, richer and more abundant than all the mines of California or Australia.

But what degree of this love must we exercise in order to obtain everlasting life? A high degree of it: not a low measure of it, but a large and liberal one if we would make our calling and election sure. Our Lord's answer to the question indicates that beyond mistake: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and all thy soul and all thy mind." That sounds strong; that sounds hard; words could hardly be put together to convey a stronger meaning. It would seem to mean that all our thoughts and desires and actions should be engrossed and taken up with God and eternity, so as to leave room for nothing else. This would indeed be hard, and it would be absurd, considering the order of things which God has established in the world. God created us to live in society and the most of us for society, to play our part in it, to bring up families of children—to put bread and butter in their mouths, and clothes on their backs. We cannot then abandon the world, and we must devote our attention to its affairs: we must give a reasonable attention to do them well, for the advantage of ourselves and those connected with us. What is the meaning, then, of loving with one's whole heart and soul and mind?

We must have our will and determination directed in the first place to God and to keeping his commandments, leaving every thing else to the second place. A man must be determined to keep God's commandments in spite of every obstacle, in spite of every temptation. He must be determined to keep them all, that is, at least, to avoid every mortal sin. He must be determined not only for the present, but so long as the breath is in his body. If he falls short of this, he does not love God with all his heart and soul and mind; he does not do what is necessary to obtain everlasting life, and he will not obtain it.

It is required by God, as an essential condition to our salvation, that we should be habitually in the determination to keep free from every mortal sin. What can be more just? We acknowledge him as our Creator, and as infinitely wise and infinitely good. He is rightly our sovereign Lord and Master, and can command what he chooses—there is an equal obligation on our part to obey him. Is it asking much, that we shall be habitually obedient? Any thing short of this he could not require—we could not expect. Is it for Him to be dependent upon our moods and humors, finding us true to-day and false to-morrow?

Oh! you say, is that all that is required of us to insure our salvation—to keep clear of mortal sin? That is nothing new; we knew that all along; to go that far is not much; we can do that easily enough. Can you, indeed? Perhaps it is easy enough to avoid mortal sin for a time, when there is fervor, or particular grace, or little temptation; but is it easy to do so for one's whole life? Is it easy to do so when one's fervor is worn off, and distractions of all kinds occupy the mind, and when in this state strong temptations beset one? Who ever says this, shows that he has little knowledge of himself, and little experience in affairs of the soul. You may avoid sin a little while, but you will fall, as sure as you live, if your mind is not set against sin, actively and habitually, so as to turn away from it with horror in the moment of temptation. No; in order not to fall, our whole life must be directed toward God. The eternal truths, heaven, hell, death, judgment, must pass frequently through our minds and take up our thoughts. In the words of Scripture, we must keep our lamps trimmed, and well supplied with oil, lest they go out. Our souls must be trimmed with holy meditations, and the oil of good works supplied in abundance must keep the flame of love to God burning brightly in our hearts, or else it will go out. It will fade away gradually for want of nourishment, until it is gone. We cannot keep clear even of mortal sin, unless we are thoroughly in earnest about it, and make a business of it. When our Lord says, "Love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart and thy whole soul, and thy whole mind," He means to say: Put your heart and soul in the business of your salvation. Make a sure thing of it by the energy and determination you apply to it.

"The children of this world are wiser," says the Lord, "than the children of light." All their prudence and skill is laid out to succeed in their business, to scrape together what they consider desirable for this life. If any thing like the same prudence and skill were exercised in serving God, salvation would be an easy thing. If you want to be saved, you must put your souls in it. You all know what the meaning of putting your souls in a thing is. It is a saying used every day. 'His soul is in his business; his soul is in study; her soul is in fashion, in her family. How the poor girl at service, when she wants to please her mistress, puts her soul in her work! What delight she takes in having every thing clean and in order! When she gets a compliment for her skill or industry, what heartfelt pleasure it gives her! Her continual study is to please in every way. How the young man puts his soul in pleasure sometimes! Every cent he can earn is spent in the saloon, the circus, the theatre. Let him earn a little money, he breaks off work until it is all squandered. Sundays, holidays, all are consumed in his darling occupations of drinking and making merry. In his pursuit of pleasure, God, reputation, health, must all give way. Nothing is allowed to put any obstacle in his headlong career. So it is with the covetous man. Money is his sole delight. His heart is satisfied with the pleasure of hoarding it, the pleasure of getting more and more. He has more than he knows what to do with: that makes no difference. He wants still more. He has nothing to give away. He can't afford this, he can't afford that. He has no time for amusement; business, mortgages, interest, that's all the amusement he cares for. Anxious and fretful for little losses, he wears out his life, and leaves his property for somebody else to spend, perhaps to be a curse to some worthless relation. He has put his soul in his money-bags.

We see people every day whose souls are so taken up with the world, that they can't even give a thought to any thing that lies beyond it. They verify the words of Scripture: "Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die." that is, they would be glad to persuade themselves, if they could, that they have no souls, and are determined to act practically on these suppositions. Now, in the same way that these poor miserable creatures put their souls in business, pleasure, love of money, or worldly ease and comfort, put yours in the business of your salvation. Make it your study to please God. Don't say: how little can I do and get off with it? but, how much can I do? What opportunity, what golden opportunity offers, to do something to please God?

Ah! there are plenty of opportunities for all who wish to avail themselves of them. The poor man can strive to do his duty, by honest industry supporting his family, setting them a good example. He has a good deal to put up with, in the shape of poverty, sickness, cold, hunger, and fatigue. He can love God with his whole soul, by putting up with these things patiently. These things are his money, with which he may be sure of purchasing the kingdom of heaven.

The rich man, if his soul is in his salvation, considers himself as God's trustee, not to dispose of the wealth God allots him as he pleases, but to advance His kingdom and the salvation of souls. He does not care so much for pampering his body, making a show, or heaping up riches for his heirs, but is satisfied with a competence and means enough to live according to his station; the rest he spends in promoting true and deserving objects of charity. He likes to imitate Jesus Christ in helping the poor and the sick, keeping a free bed in the hospital, sustaining institutions for the relief of orphans, the insane, and all who need it. He likes to help a deserving young man, when he finds one of the sort, to become a priest in the church of God. He doesn't consider it entirely the business of the priest to build churches, wearing himself out to collect the means, and that from the hard earnings of the poor, but steps forth promptly, and takes his full share of the expense and the labor at tending such enterprises. When he finds a hard-working priest, zealous for souls, he will stand by him and work with him, only too thankful to get a chance to do something.

In short, if we would make eternal life secure, we must have a spirit of self-sacrifice and devotedness, such as led the holy Martyrs to lay down their lives for the faith—such at least in kind, if not in measure.

Oh! my brethren, how happy is the man who cherishes such a principle in his heart. He is not divided and torn asunder by a continual strife between good and evil. He is not a double dealer. He is not striving to serve two masters. God reigns in his heart, and peace prevails in it. Loss of property cannot take it away, for property is not the main thing in his soul. Neither can loss of friends. He has long been sensible that God is the only true unchangeable friend. Death cannot disturb it—for he is at peace with God, and doesn't fear death. Oh! why have we not all this spirit? We acknowledge how beautiful it is. We cannot but regret if we have it not. Let us then try for it. Let us begin to-day—by forming a deep and strong resolution that we will not live for the world, or the things of the world, but seek God first of all. That we will really love Him with our whole heart, and that this shall be the business of our lives. Then shall be true of us what is said by the holy Psalmist: "Blessed is the man who hath not walked in the counsel of the ungodly, nor stood in the way of sinners, nor sat in the chair of pestilence. But his will is in the law of the Lord and on his law he shall meditate day and night. And he shall be like the tree that is planted near the running waters, which shall bring forth its fruit in due season, and his leaf shall not fall off, and all whatsoever he shall do shall prosper." Then all shall prosper with us here below, for all things shall speed our way to that world above, where, without effort, in a perfect manner, to our unbounded joy, we shall love God with our whole heart and soul, and mind, and strength.

Sermon VII.
Keeping The Law Not Impossible.

"I can do all things in Him who strengthened me."
Phil, vi., 13.

If I am not mistaken, a very great number of the sins that men commit, are committed through hopelessness. The pleasures of sin are by no means unmixed. Indeed, sin is a hard master; and all who practice it find it so. I never met a man who said it was a good thing, or that it made him happy. On the contrary, all lament it, and say that it makes them miserable. Why then, do they commit it? Very often, I am persuaded, because they think they have no power to resist it. They feel in themselves strong passions; they have yielded to them in times past, they see that others yield to them, and so they come to think it impossible not to yield to them. The law of God is too difficult, they say. It is impossible to keep it. It may do for priests or nuns who are cut off from the world, or for women, or for the old, or for children, but for us who mix in the world, whose blood is warm, and whose passions are strong, it is too high and pure. It is all very well to talk about; it is all very well to hold up a high standard to us, but you must not expect us to attain it. The utmost that you can expect of us is to stop sinning, now and then, and make the proper acknowledgments to God by going to confession, but actually to try not to sin, to keep on endeavoring not to sin at any time, or under any circumstances, that is impossible, or at least so extremely difficult that, practically speaking, it is impossible. Are there none of you, my brethren, who recognize this as the secret language of your hearts? Is there not an impression in your minds that the law of God is too strict? or at least that it is too strict for you, and that you cannot keep it? If so, do not harbor it. It is a fatal error. No: it is not impossible to keep God's law. It is not impossible to keep from mortal sin. It is, I admit, impossible to keep from every venial sin, though even here we can do a great deal if we try. Such is the frailty of human nature that even the best men as time goes on fall into some slight faults, only the blessed Virgin having been able, as we believe, to pass a whole life without even in the smallest thing offending God. But it is possible for all of us to keep from mortal sin, at all times and under all circumstances. This, I think, you will acknowledge when you consider the character of God, the nature of God's law, and the power of God's grace which is promised to us.

I say the character of God is a pledge of our ability to keep from mortal sin. God requires us to be free from mortal sin, and He requires it under the severest penalties, and therefore it must be possible for us. You may say, "God requires us to be free from venial sin too, and yet you have just said we cannot avoid every venial sin." But the case is far different. A venial sin does not separate us from God, and does not receive extreme punishment from Him—nay, those venial sins which even good men commit, and which are only in small part voluntary, are very easily forgiven—but a mortal sin cuts us off entirely from God, and deserves eternal punishment. You know, one mortal sin is enough to damn a man—one single sin of drunkenness, for instance, or impurity; a cherished hatred, a false oath, or an act of grave injustice. One such sin is sufficient to sink a man in hell, and although we know very little in particular of the torments of hell, we have every reason to believe that they are most bitter, and we know that they are eternal. Now can it be thought that a being of justice and goodness, as we know God to be, would inflict so extreme a punishment for an offence which was unavoidable, or could only be avoided with the utmost difficulty? Holy Scripture sends us to an earthly parent for an example of that tenderness and affection which we are to expect from our Heavenly Father. "If you being evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven, give good things to them that ask him." [Footnote 46]

[Footnote 46: St. Matt, vii., 11.]

What would be thought of an earthly father who laid upon his son a command which it was all but impossible for him to comply with, and then punished him with the utmost rigor for not fulfilling it? You would not call that man a father, but a tyrant; a tyrant like Pharaoh, who would not give straw to the children of Israel, and yet set taskmasters over them to exact of them the full measure of bricks as when straw had been given them. Why, if you were going along the street and saw a man whipping unmercifully an over-loaded horse, you would not bear it patiently. And would you attribute conduct so disgraceful among men to our Father in heaven? God forbid! Far be such a thought from us! It is not so. We must not think it. At least we cannot think it as long as we remain Catholics, for when the earlier Protestants proclaimed the shocking doctrine that though God punished men for disobeying his law, man was really unable to obey it, the Church branded the doctrine as a heresy to be abhorred of all men, as most false in itself, and most injurious to God. No; God loves his creatures far more than we conceive of. He does not desire the death of a sinner. He wills truly the salvation of all men. His goodness and mercy, his truth and justice, are all so many infallible guarantees of our ability to keep his law. He would not have given us his law unless He had meant us to keep it. He would not punish us so severely for breaking it, unless our breaking it was an act of deliberate, wilful, determined rebellion.

But there is another source from which I draw the conclusion that it is possible to keep the law of God—from the nature of the law itself. The law of God is of such a nature that, for the most part, in order to commit mortal sin, it is necessary to do or to leave undone some external act, which of its own nature it is entirely in our power to do or not to do. For instance, the law says, "Thou shall not steal:" now to steal you have got to put your hand into your neighbor's pocket. The law says: "Thou shalt do no murder;" to murder you must stretch out your hand against your neighbor's life. Nay, it requires ordinarily several external actions before a mortal sin is consummated. Thus the thief has his precautions to take, and his plans to lay. The drunkard has to seek the occasion. He seeks the grog-shop. Every step he takes is a separate act. When he gets there it is not the first glass that makes him drunk. He drinks again and again, and it is only after all these different and repeated actions that he falls into the mortal sin of drunkeness. Now here you see are external acts—acts in which the hand, the foot, the lips are concerned, and which, therefore, it is perfectly in our power to do or to let alone. This requires no proof, but admits of a striking illustration. You have heard of the great sufferings of the martyrs; how some of them were stoned to death, others flayed alive, others crucified, others torn to pieces by wild beasts, others burned to death. Now what was it all about? You answer, They suffered because they would not deny Christ. Very well; but how were they required to deny Christ? What was it they were required to do? I will tell you. Sometimes they were required to take a few grains of incense and throw it on the altar of Jupiter; that would have been enough to have saved them from their sufferings. They need not have said, I renounce Christ; only to have taken the incense would have been sufficient. Sometimes they were required to tread on the Cross. Sometimes to swear by the genius of the Roman emperor; that was all. And the fire was kindled to make them do these things; but they would not. The flames leaped upon them, but not a foot would they lift from the ground. Their hands were burnt to the bone, but no incense would they touch. The marrow of their bones melted in the heat, and forced from them a cry of agony, but the name of the emperor's tutelary genius did not pass their lips. Now will you tell me that you can not help doing what the martyrs would not do to save them from death? They had a fire before them and a scourge behind them, and they refused; and you say you cannot help yourself when you are under no external violence whatever! They died rather than lift a hand to do a forbidden thing; have you not the same power over your hand that they had? They died rather than utter a sinful word; have you not as much power over your tongue as they? Indeed you have, for you control both one and the other whenever you will. I say there is no sinner whose conduct does not show that his actions are perfectly in his own power. The thief waits for the night to carry on his trade; during the day he is honest enough. The greatest libertine knows how to behave himself in the presence of a high-born and virtuous female. And even that vice which men say it is most difficult of all to restrain when once the habit is formed—profane swearing—you know how to restrain it when you will, for even the heaviest curser and swearer ceases from his oaths before the priest, or any other friend whom he greatly respects. Now, if you can stop cursing before the priest, why can you not before your wife and children? If you can be chaste in the presence of a virtuous female, why can you not be chaste everywhere? If you can be honest when the eye of man is on you, why can you not be honest when no eye sees you but that of God?

But some one may say, there is a class of sins to which the remarks you have made do not apply, that is, sins of thought. You must admit that they are of such a nature that it is all but impossible not to commit them. No, I do not admit it. I acknowledge that sins of thought are more difficult to guard against than sins of action; but I do not acknowledge that it is impossible to guard against them. To prove this I have only to remind you that an evil thought is no sin until we give consent to it. To keep always free from evil thoughts may be impossible, because the imagination is in its nature so volatile, that but few men have it in control; but though it be not possible to restrain the imagination, it is always possible to restrain the will. In order for the will to consent to evil it is necessary both to know and to choose, and therefore from the nature of the thing one can never fall into sin either inevitably or unawares. And besides, the will has a powerful ally in the conscience, whose province it is to keep us from sin and to reproach us when we do sin—so that it is scarcely possible, for one who habitually tries to keep free from mortal sin, to fall into it without his conscience giving a distinct and unmistakable report. And this is so certain that spiritual writers say that a person of good life and tender conscience, who is distressed with the uncertainty whether or no he has given consent to an evil temptation, ought to banish that anxiety altogether and to be sure that he has not consented. But suppose these evil temptations are importunate, and remain in the soul even when we resist them, and try to turn from them? No matter. They do not become sins on that account; nay, they become the occasion of acts of great virtue. It is related in the life of St. Catherine of Sienna that on one occasion that pure virgin's soul was assailed by the most horrible temptations of the devil. They lasted for a long time, and after the conflict our Saviour appeared to her with a serene countenance. "O my Divine Spouse," she said, "Where wast thou when I was enduring these conflicts?" "In thy soul," he replied. "What, with all these filthy abominations?" "Yes, they were displeasing and painful to thee; this therefore was thy merit, and thy victory was owing to my presence." So that we see even here where the danger is greatest, the law of God exacts of us nothing but what in its own nature is in our power to do or not to do.

But if you wish another proof of your ability to keep God's law, I allege the power of his grace. I can imagine an objector saying: You have not touched the real difficulty after all. The difficulty is not on God's side; no doubt He is good and holy. Neither are the requirements of his law so very hard. The difficulty is in us. We are fallen by nature. We have sinned after baptism. We are so weak, so frail, that to us continued observance of the divine commandments is impossible. No, my brethren, neither is this true. It is not true from the mouth of any man; least of all from the mouth of a Christian. "No temptation," says the Apostle, "hath taken hold of you but such as is human. And God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able; but will also with the temptation make a way of escape that you may be able to bear it." [Footnote 47]

[Footnote 47: 1 Cor. x., 13.]

The weakest and frailest are strong enough with God's grace, and this grace He is ready to give to those that need it. At all times and in all places He has been ready to give his grace to them that need it, but especially is this true under the gospel. The Holy Scriptures make this the distinguishing characteristic of the times of the gospel that they shall abound in grace. "Take courage, and fear not," the prophet says, in anticipation of the time when Christ should come in the flesh, "Behold God will come and save you. Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb shall be free; for waters are broken out of the desert, and streams in the wilderness. And that which was dry land shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water." [Footnote 48]

[Footnote 48: Is. xxxv., 4-7.]

Such was the promise, hundreds of years before Christ, of a time of peace, of happiness and grace; and when our Lord was come, He published that the good time had indeed arrived: "The spirit of the Lord hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor. He hath sent me to heal the contrite of heart. To preach deliverance to the captive, and sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord." Yes, the great time has come; the cool of the day; the evening of the world; the time when labor is light and reward abundant. Oh, my brethren, you know not what a privilege it is to be a Christian! You enter a church. You see a priest in his confessional. A penitent is kneeling at his feet. The sight makes but little impression on you, for you are accustomed to it, but this is that "fountain" promised by the prophet "to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for the washing of the sinner;" a fountain that flows from the Saviour's side, and not only cleanses, but strengthens and makes alive. You pass an altar. The priest is giving communion. Stop! it is the Lord himself! the bread of angels! the wine of virgins! the food "whereof if a man eat he shall live forever." And not only in the Church do you find grace. It follows you home. You shut your door behind you, and your Father in heaven waits to hear and grant your prayer. Nay, at all times God is with you, for you are the temple of God, and He sits on the throne of your heart to scatter his grace on you when ever and wherever you ask Him. Do not say, then, Christian, that you are unable to do what God requires of you. It is a sin of black ingratitude to say so. Even if it were impossible for others to keep the law of God, it is not for you. He hath not done to every nation as he hath done to you. When the patriarch Jacob was dying, he blessed all his children, but his richest blessing was for Joseph. So God has blessed all the children of his hand, but you, Christian, are the Joseph whom He hath loved more than all his other sons. To others He hath given of "the dew of heaven," and "the fatness of the earth," but you "He hath blessed with all spiritual blessings in Christ."

Away, then, with the notion, that obedience to the commandments of God is impracticable. A notion dishonorable to God and to ourselves. It is possible to keep free from mortal sin—for all—at all times, under all temptations. Nay, I will say more. It is on the whole, easier to live a life of Christian obedience, than a life of sin. I say on the whole, for I do not deny that here and there in particular cases, it is harder to do right than wrong, but taking life all through, one who restrains his passions will have less trouble than one who indulges them. Heroic actions are not required of us every day. In order to be a Christian, it is not necessary to be always high-strung and enthusiastic. It is not necessary to be a devotee, to adopt set and precise ways, to take up with hypocrisy and cant—in a word, to be unmanly. It is just, for the most part, the most matter of fact, the most practical, the most simple and straight-forward thing in the world. It is to be a man of principle. It is to have a serious, abiding purpose to do our duty. It is to be full of courage; not the courage of the braggart, but the courage of the soldier—the courage that thrives under opposition, and survives defeat, the courage that takes the means to secure success—vigilance, humility, steadfastness and prayer. Before this, all difficulties vanish, and this is what we want most of all. It is amazing how little courage there is in the world. We are like the servant of Eliseus, the prophet, who, when he awoke in the morning, and saw the great army that had been sent by the King of Syria to take his master, said, "Alas, alas, alas, my lord; what shall we do!" But Eliseus showed him another army—the army of angels ranged on the mountain, with chariots of fire and horses of fire, ready to fight for the servants of God, and he said, "Fear not: for there are more with us than with them." [Footnote 49]

[Footnote 49: 4 Kings, vi., 15-17.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is 2 Kings, vi., 15-17.]

Why should we fear? Christianity is no new thing. The path of Christian obedience is not an untried path. Thousands have trod it and are now enjoying their reward. God, and the angels, and the saints, are on our side. And there are multitudes of faithful souls in the world who are fighting the good fight, and keeping their souls unsullied. We cannot distinguish them now, but one day we shall know them. Oh! let us join them. Yes, we will make our resolution now. Others may guide themselves by pleasure or expediency; we will adopt the language of the Psalmist: "Thy word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my paths." [Footnote 50]

[Footnote 50: Psalm cxviii., 105.]
[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Psalm cxix., 105.]

We will be Christians not in name, but in deed. Not for a time only, but always. One thought shall cheer us in sadness and nerve us in weakness, "I have sworn and am determined to keep the judgments of thy justice."

Sermon VIII.
The Two Standards.

"No man can serve two masters."
—St. Matt., vi. 24.
(From the Gospel of the 14th Sunday after Pentecost.)