And if we have a daughter, a virgin, we watch her strictly; but that which is more precious to us than a daughter, our soul, her we suffer to play the harlot and defile herself, introducing to her innumerable wicked thoughts. And whether it be the love of covetousness, or that of luxury, or that of fair persons, or that of wrath, or be it what you will else that is minded to come in, we throw open the doors, and attract and invite it, and help it to defile our soul at its leisure. And what can be more barbarous than this, to overlook our soul that is more precious than all, abused by so many adulterers, and so long companying with them, even until they are sated? Which will never be. So it is, therefore, that when sleep overtakes us, then only do they depart from her; or rather not even then, for our dreams and imaginations furnish her with the same images. Whence also, when day has come, the soul stored with such images often falls away to the actual performance of those fancies.
And thou, while into the apple of your eye you suffer not so much as a grain of dust to enter, do you pass unnoticed your soul, gathering to itself a heap of so great evils? When shall we then be able to clear out this filth, which we are daily laying up within us? When to cut up the thorns? When to sow the seed? Do you not know that henceforth the time of harvest is at hand? But we have not yet so much as ploughed our fields. If then the husbandman should come and find fault, what shall we say? And what answer shall we make? That no man gave us the seed? Nay, this is sown daily. That no man, then, has cut up the thorns? Nay, every day we are sharpening the sickle. But do the necessary engagements of life distract you? And why have you not crucified yourself to the world? For if he that repays that only, which is given him, is wicked, because he did not double it; he that has wasted even this, what will be said to him? If that person was bound, and cast out where is gnashing of teeth, what shall we have to suffer, who, when numberless motives are drawing us toward virtue, shrink back and are unwilling?
For what is there, that has not enough in it to persuade you? Do you see not the vileness of the world, the uncertainty of life, the toil, the sweat, for things present? What? Is it the case that virtue must be toiled for, but may vice be had without toil? If then both in the one and in the other there is toil, why did you not choose this, which has so great profit?
Or rather, there are some parts of virtue, which are free even from toil. For what kind of toil is it, not to calumniate, not to lie, not to swear, to lay aside our anger against our neighbor? Nay, on the contrary, to do these things is toilsome, and brings much anxiety.
What plea then shall we have, what excuse, not doing right even in these matters? For hereby it is plain, that out of remissness and sloth the more toilsome duties also altogether escape us.
All these things let us consider; let us flee vice, let us choose virtue, that we may attain both unto the good things that are present, and unto those that are to come, by the grace and love towards man of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might forever and ever. Amen.
Source: Homilies on the Gospel of St. Matthew (New Advent)