up mortal sins, when the salvation of a thousand worlds would not justify one? How dare you offend with impunity Him at Whose feet you must kneel for mercy, in Whose hands lies your eternal destiny? Can you afford to defy Him of Whom you have such urgent need? "Tell me," says St. Bernard, "you who live in sin, do you think God will pardon you or not? If you think He will reject you, is it not foolish to continue to sin when you have no hope of pardon? And if you rely upon His goodness to pardon you, notwithstanding your innumerable offences, what can be more base than the ingratitude with which you presume upon His mercy, which, instead of exciting you to love Him, only leads you to offend Him?" How can you answer this argument of the Saint?
Consider also the tears with which you will expiate your present sins. If God visit you one day, if He cause you to hear His voice (and alas for you if He do not!), be assured that the remorse for your sins will be so bitter that you will wish you had suffered a thousand deaths rather than have offended so good a Master. David indulged but a short time in sinful pleasures, yet behold how bitter was his sorrow, how long he wept for his sins. "I have labored in my groanings," he cried; "every night I will wash my bed, I will water my couch with my tears."[1] Why, then, will you sow what you can only reap in tears? Consider, moreover, the obstacles to virtue which
- ↑ Ps. vi. 7.
