up to pleasure because
we do not believe in joy: frivolous, we run after giddy excitement
because we do not believe in peace: with hearts corrupt, we abandon
ourselves to the devouring flame of the passions, because we do not
believe in the serene light of true felicity. But the more the thought
of God's love enters our mind, the more will faith in happiness issue
from our soul as a blessed flower. Happiness is the end of our being; it
is the will of the Father. To each one of us are these words addressed:
God loves thee; be happy! If therefore (and I address myself more
particularly to the younger of my hearers), if in the depth of your
soul you are conscious of a sudden aspiration after true felicity, ah!
do not suffer the holy flame to be extinguished, do not talk of
illusions; do not, I pray you, resign yourselves to the prose of life;
to a dreary and gloomy contentedness with a destiny which has no ideal.
Your nature does not deceive you; it is you who deceive yourselves, if
you seek your own welfare in the world of foolish or guilty chimeras.
Listen to all the voices which speak to you of comfort; be attentive to
all the words of peace. Seek, labor, pray, till you are able to utter,
in quiet confidence, those words of the Psalmist:

In peace I lay me down to rest;
No fears of evil haunt my breast:
In peace I sleep till dawn of day,
For God, my God, is near alway:
On Him in faith my cares I roll;
He never sleeps who guards my soul.[183]

God in the heart--this it is which adds zest to our enjoyments,
sanctifies our affections, calms our griefs, and which, amidst the
struggles, the sorrows, and the harrowing afflictions of life, suffers
to rise from the heart to the countenance that sublime smile which can
shine brightly even through tears.

FOOTNOTES:

[172]

Tristes calculateurs des miseres humaines,
Ne me consolez point, vous aigrissez mes peines;
Et je ne vois en vous que l'effort impuissant
D'un fier infortune qui feint d'etre content.
Quel bonheur, O mortels, et faible et miserable.
Vous criez: "Tout est bien" d'une voix lamentable;
L'univers vous dement, et votre propre coeur
Cent fois de votre esprit a refute l'erreur.
Il le faut avouer, le mal est sur la terre.
DESASTRE DE LISBONNE.

[173]

Pourquoi donc, O Maitre supreme,
As-tu cree le mal si grand
Que la raison,