The parable of the pilgrim written to a friend by Symon Patrick ...

CAP. XXXVI.

How the Pilgrim had a fair sight of the heavenly Jerusa∣lem: and what insued thereupon. How easie it is by a true and passion Friendship to learn the greatest Love to God. And that he is to be studied and ad∣mired in all his Creatures, as well as in his Son Christ.

THE young man was glad to hear him speak these words because they lookt like a conclusi∣on. And therefore pulling him by the sleeve, he pray'd him not to wait for their answer, but leave them to muse of what he had represented so plainly to their minds. And I wish said he (turning towards them) that if you regard not his discourse, there was some such person here as St. Gregory to whom you bear a re∣verence, that he might tell you what he thought of your intended Pilgrimages to Rome, Loretto, and such like places. No doubt he would inveigh more sharp∣ly against them, then those into Palaestine. Think I beseech you upon his words, and if you be not pleas∣ed to go along with us; yet for bear at least these need∣less though expensive journies, and reserve your mo∣ney for some uses that will turn to a better account. And so having civilly taken their leaves of each other, He and his Guide held on their way to that Holy place where Jesus himself now resides. Several things they

discoursed of, and many good things they did as they went along; till at last having gained the top of an high hill (which without some difficulty could not be climbed) they met with a knot of more excellent per∣sons, who recompensed for the tediousness of that com∣pany into which they had lately faln. The Spectacle which presented it self was no less wonderful then it was new. For there they beheld sundry Pilgrims like themselves who had placed their bodies, though in several postures, as if they never meant to stir from that place; unless it was to be carried directly up to Hea∣ven. Some of them were faln upon their knees; and with their hands upon their breasts, their eyes eleva∣ted toward the skies, and a very smiling countenance, they seemed not so much to ask as to possess something that they dearly loved, and for which they rendred thanks to God. Others of them stood gazing upon their tip-toes; with their mouths open and their eyes so fixed, as if their Souls were gone half way out of their bodies to fetch in something which they hungred to receive. And others also stretched out their arms to such a length, as if either they saw that thing com∣ing to them; or else they thought them to be wings whereby they could fly to that which they lookt so greedily upon. For this they observed after a careful view of them, that every one directed his eyes the same way; as if they waited for the very same good to descend into their embraces. And therefore these two persons being not so much startled as ravished at this strange sight, thought it was best for them to do so too; and to try if they could make any discovery of that which attracted all these eyes and hearts unto it. And they had not done so very long, but by the advan∣tage of this Mountain, and the clearness of the air, and

the steadiness of their eyes, and the quiet and silence wherein they all were; they had a very fair prospect of the Heavenly Jerusalem.

Now (you may be sure) our Pilgrims heart skipt for joy; and he began to bless the happy day which brought him hither, vowing that it should be markt in his Calender for an Holy-day as long as he lived. For he was not only assured hereby that there was such a place, but he discovered something of the felicities of it; which here met him with a delitious entertain∣ment. It did not seem to be situate in a Region like to any that he had as yet beheld; but in one so clear and pure that the sky is but a smoky vapour in com∣pare with it. There was no cloud that durst be so bold as to come within sight of it; nor was there any darkness that could approach to sully its beauty. But as there was a perpetual serenity about it, so an ever∣lasting day was one of the principal ornaments of it. The rayes of the Sun he perceived never hid them∣selvs from it; if he judged aright when by the glitter∣ing of the place he thought it all guilded with his beams. But sometimes he conceited that the City was all built of such pretious stones; that they supplyed the place of the Sun, by those streams of light which issued forth from every one of them. Nay the very garments of the Inhabitants (which he could discern a little) were so glistering that they seemed able of themselves to create a continual day to those that wore them. He beheld also some winged people (for such are they that dwell there) come flying from one of the gates of the City very speedily towards him; who told him that they accompanied him in his journy though he did not see them: and that they had been

at Jerusalem to carry news of his travels thither, and to relate the constancy and resolvedness of his mind in this purpose: and that they were sent back again not only to wait upon him, but to let him know that the Lord of the place did wait very passionately for his arrival, and would be exceeding glad in safety to re∣ceive him.

Into what an ecstasie he was cast by this relation, especially when he heard a little whispering noise (for it was no more) of the Musick and the melodious Airs which those Choristers of Heaven make; it is altoge∣ther needless to tell you. His Soul was almost allured out of his body by this sight; and was held in by so very small a thred, that two or three sharp thoughts more of that happy place, would have cut in two that slender tye. He verily thought that this was Pisgah, and that he was gone up to dye there. And when he saw that he must still live yet he could not but say to his Guide, Let us build us a Tabernacle or two in this place; for it is good to be here, untill those winged Ministers shall be at leisure to come and fetch us away to Heaven. Surely, said he, it cannot be long before they do us that favour. Let us sit still a while and see if our longing souls in the posture wherein they have been, cannot invite them to give us satisfaction and transport us thither. But his Director (to whom he ever used to hearken) told him that this was a thing which a man might rather fancy then desire. For it could not be permitted that they should sit alwayes gazing there; neither was there any hopes of arriving at the desired place, unless by their own diligence in such things as God would have them employed, they still indeavoured to creep nearer and nearer unto it.

And me-thinks, added he, it should be sufficient to content you that the rest of your way carries the face of such pleasure, and promises so much ease and faci∣lity to you in your passage; as you will discern if it please you but a little to turn your eyes from your Journeys end, to behold the path that leads you to it.

With that the young mans eyes began to fall a little from those lofty places whereon they had been fixed; and to cast themselves upon the ground which lay below under his feet, in which he was at present to make his abode. But he did not lose his pleasure by taking his eyes off from Jerusalem; for the rode which lay thither appeared now so plain, so fair and smooth, so free from bryers and thorns, and all that had molested and galled him before, that it proved the beginning of Heaven to him. The Earth he saw was every where loadned with so much Plenty; that nothing troubled him but only that he could not see Travellers enough to gather it. On every side of him there were so many beautiful flowers; that he could scarce tell whose invitation to accept, when they seem∣ed to desire to be pluckt by his hands. The very stones had lost the hardness and roughness of their nature; and did soften and smooth themselves when the feet of Pilgrims came to oppress them. And all the way likewise was so quiet and still, that if a leaf wagged; it was by the sweet breath of those Musicians which sate among the Branches. One could not speak so much as a word, but an Eccho from the Vault of Heaven would repeat it; as if she had a great desire to learn, or was much in love with that language. Yea all the Mountains which they were still to climb, seemed of so easie ascent; that they differed nothing from

the plain ground. And the very Trees which grew upon them were so straight and tall; that they seemed to lift up themselves above the clouds to beg the Hea∣venly Bodies, that they would send their pure and un∣stained influences on them before they had lost any thing of their innocence, and were defiled by their passage thorow our unwholesome Air to the bosome of the Earth. Many a Mile one might pass thorow a Forrest of nothing but Myrtles and Lawrels; under the shade of which a Traveller might sweetly repose himself, and dream that he saw the Crowns and Gar∣lands which were wreathing for him in Jerusalem. Eve∣ry Wood also (of which some stages wholly consisted) appeared like a goodly Orchard; where an infinite Variety of lovely fruit saluted them that passed thorow it. And though the courteous Apples, with all the rest, seemed to bow themselves to kiss the Pil∣grims hands; yet by their fragrancy one would judge that they were not of a meer terrestrial growth; but fed by some invisible roots above, from which they deri∣ved the refined nourishment of coelestial Juices. From the surplusage of which also it was (as one would be tempted to think) that the Balm and all other Aroma∣tick Liquors dropped; which had no other use in that place but to annoint the heads of them whom those Trees overshadowed. In short, this way that he had now to pass, was called by some Poetical fancies the Laughter and Smile of Nature; by others a Mo∣nopoly of Pleasure; by others a World of Sweets that live in fair community together, neither envying nor contemning one the other, but contributing every one to the beauty and delight of the whole. But none of these names gave him any satisfaction, nor could it please him to hear it called any thing else; than the

Entrance of the Paradise above. And indeed when he came to taste of the fruit, he could not but conclude that he eat of the Tree of Life in the midst of the Garden of God; and when he felt those distillations on his head, he could think of nothing else but the Ʋncti∣on from above. All the things in this description were but so many Pictures whereby his fancy represented to him the happiness of that life which hereafter he hoped to lead; wherein he thought to find every thing to his desire. The difficulties of his Journey seemed now to be overcome; and every step he saw would bring him to a new pleasure. There was no∣thing to be done, but what promised to gratifie him with repeated joyes, and to reward his labours with abundance of content in the doing of it. And there was nothing to be suffered which threatned any harm; but seemed to have lost it prickles and thorns, and to court men into its embraces. Now he thought he should be so happy as to live more above, and hold a constant communication with Heaven. He expected to surmount the clouds wherein he had been wrapped, and to live in a purer light, and enjoy a greater sere∣nity of mind. Now he hoped to pass his time in sub∣limer Meditations; in a steadier Faith, in a more ardent Love; in more comfortable Expectations; in quicker tasts of the good things to come; and so in more per∣fect Peace and Joy in the Holy Ghost. In short, he discovered on all sides both present satisfactions, and future hopes; with larger Assurances also that they would not make him ashamed.

Being thus then spurred by the admonitions of his Friend, and the invitations of the Way, on he went again (together with the happy Companion of his

Travels) sometimes casting his eye upon Jerusalem, and sometimes upon his Way, which now became more ea∣sie and more delightful to him than ever before. But having descended a little from the Head of that lofty Hill where they had stayed thus long; the young Pil∣grim observed that he had lost that fair sight of Jeru∣salem which he so much admired. At which he began to be surprised with a little quivering and coldness in his Body; till his Old Comforter told him that this ought to be the cause of no troublesome thoughts. For the whole way (said he) to that place consists much of Hills and Dales; and as now you are going down from the heights wherein you have been, so shall you ad∣vance again in due time, and be presented not only with a fresh, but with a fairer sight of it. He told him also how impossible it was for any Traveller to remain long upon those Mountains, where the Air is so quick and piercing that it would make them quit their earth∣ly Mansions. And withall he discoursed of the advan∣tage of those Vallies and shewed him the Silver Brooks full of the Waters of Life which ran in those humble places; together with all the pretty flowers where∣with the verdant banks of those streams were crowned. In fine he represented to him that they were so far from descending now into any dismall shades; that they were but going to ease their minds with a little varie∣ty in these cool levels, which were almost spent and ex∣haled by so long a fight of Jerusalem in those superiour Regions. Not omitting also to let him know that it was not so impossible as he imagined to meet with something of it, in those low Meadows into which they were now entring; which spread so goodly a Carpet for their feet to tread upon, that the Hill which they had left seemed to bow its Head to look

upon the richness of it. And thereupon he shewed him how those Crystal Waters, which he heard murmu∣ring, and inviting his thirst to quench it self in their streams, came down from a Spring on the brow of that Mountain where they had lately been. And can you believe, said he, that any thing can flow from thence which brings no tydings with it from Jerusalem? Tast and see if their rellish be not such as tells you from whence they come, and makes this place happy which flows with such contentment. Believe not me but your self (if it be not too much for you to stoop down and drink) that these Vallies are watred from above, and receive at second hand what the more rising ground at the first enjoyes.

The Young man heard him very obediently and soon satisfied himself in the truth of what he said, by tasting of the Waters, which had a strong tincture of Jerusalem. For the Rayes that come from it and beat continually upon that aspiring Hill, had indued the whole body of it with some of their Vertue, which might constantly be communicated to the neighbour∣ing, though lower places. He was immediately in∣spired (I mean) with a great heat of Divine Love, in which he found not a little of Heaven. He saw that Meditation, Prayer, and such like holy imployments do but dispose the will to acts of Charity, and doing good to all, according as God hath done to us. The clearer sight he perceived that any one hath of the Glory to come, the more powerfully is his heart touch∣ed with a fervent desire and endeavour to be thus im∣ployed. This is the natural issue of a right belief of what Christ hath promised. There is nothing so na∣turally flows from it when raised to its highest pitch, as

and easiness and pleasure in doing good: than which nothing can come nearer to the life of them that dwell above. He saw now that Jerusalem might be found in the houses of the sick, in Hospitals, and the meanest places where Humility and Charity can find themselves any work. If he met with a poor Stranger that moved his compassion, it was as if he had met with an Angel. If any differences came in his way which he could compose, it was as if Jesus had spoken peace unto him. When the Orphans and Widows gave him their Blessing, it was as if he had received one from Heaven. And all this gave him the greater satisfaction, because he was afraid he should have met with it no where else, save only on such Mountains as they had newly left.

But yet I must not forget to tell you that there was none for whom he felt such a particular kindness, as this person who had so charitably conducted him and made every condition so pleasing to him. He had no sooner drunk off one Cup of the waters named, and began some actions of Charity to others, but he felt himself all over in a flame of love to him. Whatso∣ever he did, the end of it still was to think how much he was beholden to his love which had directed him to this most happy life of doing good. One would have thought by the effects that it had been such a potion as they call a Philtrum which hath a power its said to fascinate Souls; and draw them by a sweet in∣chantment to that party who administers it to them. And to tell you the very truth, had not the wisdom of his Friend again prevented it, this had proved one of the sorest temptations which he had hitherto en∣countred; notwithstanding all the good counsel where∣with

with he had been armed. For as he was wont to re∣port of himself, his heart was so much glewed to this Friend of his; that sometimes he could not think of Jesus or Jerusalem meerly for thinking of him. He thought it was very sad that any one should be too greedy of so innocent a pleasure; but yet he fancied sometimes that he was, and that nothing else pleased him but only the society of this person.

Who now therefore thought himself concerned to have a more then ordinary care of his Patient, be∣cause he had made him sick; or at least been an occa∣sion of his present disease. And so quick he was in his Applications, that it could scarce be called by that name; but by the Vertue of his remedies was rather turned into a cure of other distempers, which had some root within him. It is not strange (said the Old man) that I should creep so far into your heart, if you do but consider how wide we open our breasts to those things which are of great use and advantage to us. There was no other cause but this that made men Deifie certain Creatures, which they found to be very high benefactors unto them. Have you ne∣ver heard any body call the Sun a Visible God? And what was it I beseech you that procured him so many adorers, but the sense that men had of the benefit of his fires; which enamoured them of his beauty, and inflamed their love to the height of Devotion to him? Wonder not then at your self that you perceive such a fervour in your soul to me your poor friend; whom you esteem (though alas unworthy of such a name) to be no less then your Treasure. This will justifie an high degree of affection towards me. And there is no danger I'le warrant you, of proving an

Idolatrous Lover, if you will but let me shew you how easily you may make me become what you call me; and improve this Affection so, as to be a very great gainer by it. But first I must reveal to you this secret, which you have not hitherto discovered; that of this affection I my self have a larger share then yet hath appeared; yea, to your own person I have not been so cold as you may perhaps imagine. And yet I am so far from thinking my self, the worse for what I feel of it, that I take my self to be much the bet∣ter; and would not for all the world have a less portion of it then I perceive you find in your own heart.

Now that you may not think I make use of Rheto∣ricall figures and launch out a great deal beyond the truth; let me beg so much of your patience (who as you confess have imployed much of mine) till I relate what benefit I have found by loving you. For then I hope you will think it possible for your self to reap the same: and not be troubled for the excess of love you bear to me; since thereby you receive no greater hurt, then to become capable of enjoying a more exceeding advantage. And God being the Chiefest Good, the highest object of our Understand∣ings, the satisfaction of our Wills, the Centre of all rational desires; what greater commendation can there be of Friendship, than that it is apt to bring our Souls into a fuller possession of this Beeing, who is the cause of all other, and of all happiness? Will you not confess that it is a thing of great Use, and great Value; which shall indear him unto you, who is of more use and worth then the Sun or all the World? Now if you can give any credit to me, you

may be assured that my Friendship with you hath taught me not only that God is Love, but what it is to love God, better then any thing else perhaps could have done. And what is this Love, but as you have often heard, the whole Duty of man; all that God requires of us that we may enjoy eternal felici∣ty with him? This if I can demonstrate, I suppose you will no longer complain of an excess of this excellent affection, which may so easily be converted, with∣out much Art or contrivance, into one so Divine, that that God himself will love it very much.

And if you would know by what Chymistry it was that I turned this Baser affection (as you are apt to call it) into that which is so noble and sublime; it will be a matter of no difficulty to make you under∣stand it; for there was no longer operation in it then this. I used to observe what it was that my love caused me to do to you, and that I concluded was farr more due to God. And so it taught me (1.) To think often of him and to keep him in Mind; for this I found a necessary effect of the Friendship I have with you. If there be something in your Idea that is grateful to me, which makes me to hugg it so much and carry it about with me, then there must needs be a great deal more in that Idea I have of God, who ought therefore ever to bear me company, and to go along with me as my Joy where ever it be that my occasions lead me. And so (2.) I learnt by loving you, to take a delight in conversing with him, and to embrace or rather seek all opportunities of fre∣quenting his company. And then (3.) (For I must not stay to enlarge these things into long discourses, but leave that for your work) I was instructed hereby to desire his acquaintance more, to thirst after an in∣timate

familiarity with him, and to be more perfectly united to him. (4.) To be highly pleased also in him was another fruit of this Amity; To rest so sa∣tisfied in his enjoyment, as to want nothing to com∣pleat my contentment. And (5.) To study with∣al how to be pleasing to him; or rather to be able without any study, by a meer likeness of Nature, to do all things agreeably to his mind. For I must take so much liberty by the way as to tell you, that there is no anxious labour in love, nor any carefulness to find what is grateful to our Beloved; but we have a natural inclination to do just as they would have us. From hence (6.) I proceeded to like well of what∣soever He doth; and to be pleased with all his Provi∣dences. For we alwayes feel our selves inclined to find no fault with our Friends, to interpret every thing to the best sense; and rather to excuse that which is ill, then think that they can do it. And (7.) To receive all his kindnesses with a singularly great gra∣titude, as proceeding only from the goodness of his own nature, and not from any desert of mine. (8.) To keep in Memory also his Benefits, and to think of them as I would of the tokens of your love; which I could not but look upon when I did not see you. And (9.) as for his Holy word (which one of the Antient Guides used to call the Epistle of God to man) I cannot but read it as I do your Letters, with a great deal of pleasure and transport. And (10.) Like∣wise I read it over and overagain, as I am wont to do your Letters; not being content with a single plea∣sure; not thinking that I can espy all your affection at once that breathes there. And (11.) Do you think that I can live and not long to hear from him, or that I can be so patient as not to desire to see him?

No, I am ever saying as the holy Psalmist, O when wilt thou come unto me? You have taught me to contrive all wayes that I may enjoy him, and to think my self more happy in it, then all the world can make me. And (12.) then I cannot but contrive how I may most serve him, and be glad of any occasion which is offered of so doing. For you may be confi∣dent I should suspect my love, if it did not excite me to render you all the services that are in my power; and make me study to be able to do that, which is now out of the compass of it. And (13.) another thing for which I stand indebted to your love, is, that I am taught thereby to be very tender of his Honour, and to be troubled that any body should speak evil of him or do any thing against him. Nay (14.) Since you have given me leave to love you, I find that I am desirous every Body should love him that is so ami∣able in my eyes; just as I wish that you may be ac∣ceptable to all and never meet with any unkindness. (15.) I have learnt also to consult and advise with him upon all occasions, and to open as it were my ve∣ry Heart to him. (16.) And then to be confident of his help; and to expect undoubtedly to receive it, whensoever I have occasion for it. To which (17.) if I should not add that I have learnt never to be wea∣ry of his Company, but still to take a fresh delight in it, I should much forget my self; for that is a most sensible effect of your Friendship. And (18.) so is this; To be loath to part with it, and to hold him so fast as not to be willing to let him go. As also (19.) To be impatient of his absence, at least not to be so well any where else as I am with him. And (20.) in fine, To long ever to be with him; and to be put into such a condition that I may never have the

trouble of parting with his company, which alas! in this world I am forced too oft to suffer. And you need not wonder that I have learnt this last Lesson by our Friendship; for if you and I could now leave these pleasant Plains wherein we are, and strip our selves of this flesh; I formy part would willingly con∣sent unto it, if I had assurance but of this happiness; that I should take you by the hand, and we should wander up and down in the Air together.

I had almost forgot to tell you another happy fruit of this passion, and that is, when I desire any thing of him, to leave it to his choice and disposition; knowing that his wise Love will do that for me, which is most requisite and conducing to my welfare. Nay, more then this I feel such an inclination to you, that I cannot but be ashamed if I am not carried with such a Natural affection unto God. I did not begg of my Will to love you, for I was surprised at first sight with that affection; and felt such a propension to you as the Iron doth to the Loadstone, which cannot chuse but be ravished and attracted by it. From which you may be confident that now it is out of my Power to forbear to love you; and that it is not a business to be referred to choice, but which Nature com∣mands, which will not be disobeyed or controuled. But then me thinks my Soul cannot be so dull (finding it self thus disposed to you) as to stay to ask it self a reason why it should love God; or whether it will love or no. I am forced to love him, and carried to him by such a strong inclination as hath no Cause but only Nature. At least, this state I am reaching after; and it seems very unhandsome, that I should be ever telling my self that there is this and that cause why I

should love God: for I would be so impressed by him that out of an innate tendency of mind I might run to him; or rather might still be with him and have him continually before mine eyes. I have heard it, I remember, affirmed by some, that this Love of Incli∣nation comes only from a Reminiscence, or calling to mind such things as have been before. Such souls, say they, have been acquainted in some other World; and they do not now commence a new love, but only continue an old. And truly if I might judge of the truth of what they say by the love I find to God, me-thinks they are not without the countenance of some reason. For my soul seems but to renew an antient ac∣quaintance with him. My love to him is so natural and easie, that it is just as if once we knew one another before. It doth not seem to be the birth of an affe∣ction which was not, but only the awakening of that which lay asleep. For there are no pangs, no diffi∣culty in bringing forth this Love; but we open our eyes and see that glorious object which our Souls would have, and cannot but fasten themselves upon.

And if I should add an heap of observations to these of another sort, and show you how hereby we come to be perswaded of Gods Love to us; and to have such high thoughts of it as to believe he is ready to grant us any thing that we ask, to pass by our faults, to come and visit us, to send his servants the Angels to see us, and wait upon us, &c. and all because he is our Friend; you would see a further use of this divine affection and be convinced that we cannot but live uncomfort∣ably without it. And indeed if any one should think that it is put into our Souls for so poor an End as to tickle us with a little pleasure in civil conversation, and

to help us to pass away the time more merrily, with∣out any regard to these Heavenly uses; it would be as absurd a conceit, as to imagine the Sun was made for no other purpose but to colour the cheeks of our Ap∣ples, and enlarge the Sphaere of our Cabbages. No, nature will not let us depress so far this darling of hers, to which she is inclined above all other things. That must needs be implanted by the hand of God to which all men have a propensity; and since it is very strong, overweighing all other inclinations; we must needs think that it was planted in them to do them some great benefit, and to be the instrument above all other things of their happiness. Now what is there to which we have a more imbred inclination, then to love and to desire to be beloved? There is no man but hates to be alone, and can as little indure to be with those for whom he hath no love. For still he is alone, if that be not there. A crowd is not company; (as a Wise man sayes) and Faces are but a Gallery of Pictures; and Talk but a Tinkling Cymbal, where there is no love. Nay so natural is this to us (and withall so sweet) that I believe there is no man in the World who for all the wealth in it, would be bound to love no body and to be beloved of none.

He was going on to some further discourses on this subject, when the other cryed out, Hold, do not wholly impoverish this argument, but leave something for me to say, who am abundantly satisfied that there is nothing comparable to this which hath been the cause of my trouble. I will never blame my self more for exceeding too much in this sort of love. I plainly see that Mediocrity, which every where else is counted a Vertue, doth here become a Vice. I am more then

converted by your excellent discourse. I must turn Proselyte to him who said, That he would have the Affe∣ction of Friends appear rather a Passion then a Vertue: That Friendship hath nothing more excellent in it then excess: and that it doth rather offend in the Moderation, then in its Violence and extremity. And here he began to invent all the Praises he could of Friendship, which he called, The top and perfection of Love; the Soul of the World; the Spirit of Nature; the bond of Socie∣ty; the marriage and happy union of agreeing minds; the life and joy of mankind; the relief of our sorrows; the Physitian of all our secret griefs; our Buckler in all assaults; our Oracle in our doubts; the Governor and Tutor of a prosperous condition; the Comforter of a declining fortune; without which the greatest happiness would be irksome to us; and in whose com∣pany the greatest affliction cannot make us miserable. He reflected also very happily on this; that it was one of the last things that Jesus himself did in this world, to make a Friendship between two great persons, his blessed Mother, and his beloved Disciple. These he remembred our Lord would have to live together like Mother and Son; which he thought imported such a dearness between them, as would justifie the height of his affection. And then he cryed out, Thou O Di∣vine Love, art the nature of God, the life of Angels, the employment of Heaven! By knowing thee I know what it is that I owe to God; and I now also know Jerusalem better, where they exercise the Noblest Friendships. I will never fear thee any more; for I see thou wilt secure my duty to God, and it will be strange if my Neighbours be not better for thee, who art alwayes instigating me to do good. What though I be chained more to one person then another; you

need not think, O sons of men, that I shall thereby be∣come less charitable to you: For my love finding here a continual employment and constant exercise for it self; I am the more disposed and ready when occasion serves to express it to you all. My retirements can∣not work its decay; but in the greatest privacy this friendship keeps any rust from growing over it, and preserves it pure and bright for the use of others too. I love you all wheresoever you dwell on the face of the whole earth. I stretch out my hands to you from one Pole to the other; wishing I could do you good. And though I cannot reach you every one; yet my love gives me the comfort of this assurance, that God is with you; who as he hath a greater love so a greater abili∣ty to help you all.

But his Guide who was better acquainted with his duty then himself, thought it best to bring him out of this Rapture; because he saw that he would immerse himself too far in the pleasure of this contemplation; and likewise thought it was not safe to gratifie them∣selves with too much of this Honey at once. He pray∣ed him therefore to lay aside this discourse a while and to divert himself with the observation of some of those flowers and plants wherewith they saw the earth strewed as they went along. For sure, said he, these were not made for us to tread upon, nor only to feed our eyes with their grateful Variety, or to bring a sweet odor to our Noses; but there is a more internal beauty in them for our minds to prey upon; did we but let them penetrate beyond the surface of these things into their hidden properties. You are a Chri∣stian it is confessed, but doth that make you cease to be a Man? You read the Gospel of our Saviour, but

must that give a discharge to all our rational inquiries into the Book of Nature? Doth the new Creation in∣tend to destroy the old? Or because we behold God in the face of Christ must we look upon him no where else? No such matter; there is a more antient obli∣gation upon you to study the Works of God; of which you ought to quit your self while you study his Word. It is an honour to the School of Christ, when his Dis∣ciples are skill'd in all Wisdom. He is such a Master as would not have us know other things the less, but the more, by knowing him. And so they began to pry into many curiosities, which several of the Creatures they met withall presented to them; not without a great astonishment at that infinite understanding that was the Contriver of them. And having once tasted of this kind of Learning, he often wished that it was in his power to understand more of his own Body; of the motions of the Sun, Moon and other Stars; with many things besides in this great Fabrick; wherein he knew God had hid great treasures of Wisdom, and in∣graven a fair Image of himself. Yea, he conceived the whole World sometimes a great Temple, and himself one of the Priests that God had placed therein to offer up the Praises of all the Creatures, and acknowledge his Wisdom, his Power, his Goodness; which are conspicuous in the frame of them. And though he could acquire but a very small knowledge of some of them; yet it was a great pleasure to see that there were many more intelligent Priests then himself and more acquainted with Natures Mysteries; who ren∣dred to God continually better Praises, and called up∣on all his works in all places of his Dominion to bless his Holy name.