A penitent is a man instrusted by God with judgment against himself;
one who refuses himself the most innocent pleasures because he had
formerly indulged in those the most criminal; one who puts up with the
most necessary gratification with pain; one who regards his body as an
enemy whom it is necessary to conquer--as an unclean vessel which must
be purified--as an unfaithful debtor of whom it is proper to exact to
the last farthing. A penitent regards himself as a criminal condemned
to death, because he is no longer worthy of life. In the loss of
riches or health he sees only a withdrawal of favors that he had
formerly abused: in the humiliations which happen to him, only the
pains of his guilt: in the agonies with which he is racked, only the
commencement of those punishments he has justly merited. Such is a
penitent.

But I again ask you--Where, among us, are penitents of this
description? Now look around you. I do not tell you to judge your
brethren, but to examine what are the manners and morals of those who
surround you. Nor do I speak of those open and avowed sinners who have
thrown off even the appearance of virtue. I speak only of those who,
like yourselves, live as most live, and whose actions present nothing
to the public view particularly shameful or depraved. They are sinners
and they admit it: you are not innocent, and you confess it. Now are
they penitent? or are you? Age, vocation, more serious employments,
may perhaps have checked the sallies of youth. Even the bitterness
which the Almighty has made attendant on our passions, the deceits,
the treacheries of the world, an injured fortune, with ruined
constitution, may have cooled the ardor, and confined the irregular
desires of your hearts. Crimes may have disgusted you even with sin
itself--for passions gradually extinguish themselves. Time, and