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

CAP. XXVIII.

Of the Necessity of Friendship. Of faithful Counsel. How the Pilgrim doubted whether there was such a place as Jerusalem. The satisfaction which his Friend gave him in this particular. As also the comfort he admi∣nistred to him in a great Sickness.

NOw the poor mans heart was filled with an inex∣pressible Joy, and he could scarce travel for a while by reason of this passion which was as trouble∣some to him, as the contrary had been before. But having at last overcome the excess of it, and dissembled it also while it stayd as well as he could, lest his Friend should think he was made up of nothing but contra∣riety and inconstancy; On they went very merrily, singing several Hymns which they had learnt, for di∣vers miles together. When they were ended; they fell into a very pleasant discourse about heavenly Poe∣try. And the good Father did highly extol those Divine Souls, who had converted the Muses, and of Courtesans and leud Strumpets made them turn Reli∣gious and Saintly Creatures. Surely, said he, it was a brave and noble Act to reclaim them from such a de∣bauched life as they had a long time lead. It was a piece of very eminent service to the world, to reform their impure speech, and teach them the language of Angels. If there were a greater number of such inspired minds, one would think they should convert the whole World, by pleasing and instructing it both together.

After he had proceeded for some time in this strain, the young Pilgrim took occasion from thence to dis∣course of the Harmony that is between some souls, and the sweet consent of two equal and well-proportion'd hearts, which he thought were able to interchange the greatest felicities in the World. I have heard indeed, said he, that it was the opinion of some of the ancient Sages, that a wise man stands in need of no body but himself, and that whatsoever is without him, is not at all needful to him. But sure these were peevish and morose people, whom I cannot but condemn as guilty of one of the most dangerous Schisms in the world. He was far wiser, I think, that said; If we look on men in general, they do not seem so much a great many several intire bodyes, as so many divided parts which Society re∣unites: I must needs confess, for my own part, that I feel my self but half a man without a friend. I cannot but place him in the number of necessary, and not only of delightful things. It is the prerogative of God to need none but himself. It is too much for us to live alone, who inclose so small a portion of wisdom and strength within our Beings. I do not reckon my self safe without your company. My felicity would be imperfect if you did not compleat it. I dare not so much as trust my own thoughts unless you approve them; nor follow my own counsels unless you allow them.

And here he began to speak of the necessity of faith∣ful counsel, and that it was not to be procured without a friend. For though we love our selves never so well, yet a friend will be less treacherous to us, than we shall be to our selves. This brought to mind a Comment which was made by a wiser man than any of those

sullen pieces of gravity before-named, upon that old obscure saying; Dry light is ever the best. Certain it is, saith he, That the Light which a man receives by counsel from another faithful person, is dryer and purer than that which cometh from his own under∣standing and judgment. For as that which he receives is separate from all interest, so that which he gives him∣self is commonly infused and drenched in his Customs and Affections. So that there is as much difference between the counsel of a friend, and that which a man bestows on himself, as between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as in a mans self; and there is no such remedy against the flat∣tery of a mans self, as the liberty of a friend. And, as one thing usually draws on another, this brought to his thoughts a handsome discourse of another per∣son whom he had met withall, which very well illu∣strated the reason of it; and was to this effect. Every man, we say, is nearest to himself; but yet he is too near to be his own Counsellor in things which concern him∣self. There is not space enough between both, where∣in to debate the counsel which is given, and which is received. He cannot hinder those two Reasons which deliberate in him from confounding themselves in com∣munication; for that which proposeth is too much mixt with that which concludes. He can find no place free wherein to weigh his Reasons. But he proposes those which will favour his own humour, and then he inclines unto them, because they are his own. He who counsels therefore must be another person distinct from him who is counselled. The objects must be set at a proportionable distance from those facul∣ties which judge of them. And as the most quick∣sighted can never see themselves; so the greatest

wits want perspicacity in things that respect their own interest.

In such delightful and useful talk as this they be∣guiled the time, and shortned the length of the wayes. And it was no small contentment, you may well think, to the good old man, that he was possessed of such a friend who could refresh him with his apt discourses, and give as well as receive instruction. But though the young Pilgrim was a person of such competent abili∣ties, and had so good a friend as this to assist him, imagining also when the first contract was made be∣tween them, that he should now be no more disturbed; yet he was not without some melancholy thoughts at certain seasons, of which this, as I remember, was the chief. They two being talking one day about the Pleasures of Jerusalem, and the great happiness they should enjoy at their arrival there, which ought to sweeten by its expectation all the difficulties of the way; he askt his companion with a very sad and de∣sponding countenance, if it might not admit of some dispute whether there was such a place or no, and how he would prove the existence of it.

At which Question, because he seemed to make a real doubt, the Father gave a very great start, and said with a more than ordinary vehemence: What? Are we now to begin again, and do you remain unsa∣tisfied of that which was the first thing you learnt? What was it that made you stir one foot in this Jour∣ney, if you were not perswaded you should come to Jerusalem? Or how came you to hold out thus long, and that you did not tyre many months ago? And did you not once, when you were tempted by some

idle persons to disbelieve it, reject with anger all their frivolous allegations? Good God! What a thing is the Soul of man? How weak and infirm is our nature? How fickle and uncertain are our most serious thoughts? And what a great patience is it that we ex∣ercise every day? Surely if thy Love were not wider than the Circle of Heaven, we should throw our selves out of the compass of it.— Say no more, said the other (who here interrupted his speech) for I am very sensible of the truth of what you affirm. The Soul of man is an object very worthy of your pitty, and whose state can never be sufficiently deplored. Nor do I know any Soul that deserves it more than mine, which is made, it seems, to exercise your patience as well as God's. We cannot help it, I think (so short and forget∣ful are our Thoughts) but we must go backward and forward. Sometimes we are confident, and sometimes we are doubtful. Now we are merry, and presently we are sad even because we were merry. Nothing will shake us in this temper, but in another a leaf or a fea∣ther will make us turn aside. But do not, I beseech you, upbraid unto me this misery; which rather im∣plores your charity to find a cure for it.

Well then, said the other, in compliance with your necessity, let us step back a little (which I hope will not prove a very great hinderance to us) and let us search if we have foolishly undertaken this Journey to Jerusalem. So he led him by the hand to a certain friend's house which they had not left much behind, and there (without accepting of any refection which was offered to them) presently called for a cer∣tain Book which was full of Mapps attended with Dis∣courses of several Countries: in one of which was a

description of the promised land and the famous City Jerusalem. And that he might be assured of the faithful∣ness of it, he bad him cast his eye to the bottom, and there he should find the name of the man that was the Author of those fair Tables: and who should that be, but Jesus, together with a servant of his St. Paul who finished by his direction what his Master had be∣gun. There he found that the former of these persons professed that he came from Heaven, which he proved also by many Arguments of Divine Authority: and the latter that he was caught up into Paradise and the third Heavens, where he had a perception of such things as could not be painted in those Papers. And then turning over several leaves that treated of this Country; he shewed him such an exact Description of the Situation and Nature of the place, of the Quality of the Inhabitants, of the imployments wherein they are ingaged, of the Fruits of the Soil, of the Way that led to it, of the Travels of several persons that had gone thither, of the return of one of them (even Jesus him∣self) upon several occasions into this World, and of the descent of Angels which assured men of it, toge∣ther with the testimony of many undeniable Witnesses (all servants of Jesus) concerning the truth of these things, whom he also there examined over again be∣fore him; that he was ashamed of his incredulity and blusht to think that he had given him this new trouble. But above all, the Good man show'd him that Jesus by his last Will and Testament had made over an inheri∣tance in Jerusalem to all his faithful Followers. And that he had sealed and ratified this Will with his own dearest blood. And that God had set to it his Seal al∣so, by raising him from the dead and giving him Glory at his own right hand. And that this was demonstrated

and that Deed of Christ further established, by the sending of the Holy Ghost upon the Apostles and those to whom they Preached. For this made it evi∣dent, said he, that Jesus is Crowned King in Jerusalem from whence he sent these Royal gifts to men, and it is the earnest of our inheritance; and by it we are sealed to the day of Redemption. All which and much more for his further satisfaction and better remembrance he af∣terward got one to comprise in a little Book; wherein was shown that This is the record which God hath given of his Son, that in him we have eternal life. It would make my relation too long if I should transcribe that Treatise, which is also come to my hands; and there∣fore I shall only acquaint you with the conclusion of their discourse on this argument, which was to this purpose. And now, said the Father, if you call in question the credit of this Story concerning Jesus be∣cause you never saw him; I would wish you to take heed lest you be a teacher of Rebellion and learn men to justifie Sedition against their lawful Soveraign. For if we must entertain nothing but what we our selves see; then the Rabble may do well to say; they have no King because they never saw his face; nor hath he yet gone his Progress among them: and that there are no Laws that oblige them, because they were not pre∣sent when they were enacted, nor heard his Majesty say, The King Will, or that he consented to them. For my part I cannot see less reason to believe, that our Lord was miraculously conceived, ushered into the World by a Star and the shouts of the Heavenly hosts, annointed with the Holy Ghost at his Baptism, trans∣figured on the holy Mount, confessed by Devils, ac∣knowledged by Angels, justified by Miracles, raised from the Dead, and taken up to Glory; then our

children will have to believe that our present Sove∣raign after a long banishment was suddenly restored to his Throne, that he entred his Royal City on such a day with the joyful acclamations of all his people; that he rode in Triumph and was solemnly Crowned the year following; and that the Book containing a description of the Magnificent Ceremonies of that day, gives a true and just account of them. They that would perswade you to doubt of the truth of the holy Writings which conveigh the notice of those great things to you, and whereby you hold all the hopes you have of happiness at Jerusalem; may in time think their wits so fine as to go about to prove that the Great Charter of England is but a forged Deed, that all the Liberties you think you have are but the Idols of your own brain, or that the whole Writing by factious spi∣rits hath been corrupted and altered at their pleasure. And if you should say, that there are so many Argu∣ments to stop their mouths that they will be ashamed of such foolish talk; for Kings have sealed it, and Par∣liaments confirm'd it, and all English men have a long time asserted it; you will find your self much mistaken and see that these allegations are not considerable with such disputes. For so have these holy books (as I esteem them) been ever received for the Apostolical Writings; none could ever prove them guilty of any imposture; nor do their greatest enemies charge them with the crime of reporting false Miracles; yea the Jews acknowledge them to have been wrought, and Heathen writers have set their hands to some things of no mean account; and yet these are not sufficient with such men to prove them true because they did not stand at the Apostles elbows when they were pen'd and sent abroad into the World. And therefore what

is the confession of all England worth to prove your Liberties; since the confession of the whole Christian World for so many ages is not worth a straw with them to prove these Writings? If they will not let you have a Jesus because they did not see him; why should they suffer you to enjoy any other things which they can take away upon the same pretence? But if they will permit you to enjoy the benefit of any antient Deeds, when nothing can be justly excepted against them; then we hope that it is lawful to call the Go∣spel (as one of the Antients doth) our new Conveyance whereby Jesus hath setled upon us an everlasting in∣heritance in the Heavenly Country, of far greater va∣lue then that which the Israelites by Vertue of the old writings possessed in the earthly.

Here the young Traveller pluckt him by the sleeve beseeching him to make no longer stay in that place, for, said he, you have dissipated all my clouds already and I am fully perswaded that there is such a City as Jerusalem. Though I doubted a little of it, yet let me not be suspected of Infidelity. I protest to you that I bear such a reverend regard to these Writings which you have laid before me, that I would rather lose all the goods I have in the World then part with them. I have a long time held them so Sacred that they have been my comforters in all my troubles, and the songs of my Pilgrimage. At this very moment I carry them about me and shall hereafter set a greater value on them; for what I have held by Custome I shall now hold by Reason, and be able to render an account to those that ask of the Hope that is in me. Let us go on Sir I intreat you without any further dispute, and how∣soever negligent I have been in former times I am re∣solved

hereafter to read this Holy Book with more attention of Mind: and to procure thereby that this short stay may not make me come a whit the later to my journeys end.

It is very well done, said the Father, that you have provided your self with so necessary a companion as that Book is: which might serve to direct you with∣out me, but that I see you are not sufficiently acquain∣ted with the language of it. When you read of the Witness of the Spirit, its like you waited for some im∣mediate assurance of the truth of these writings. And when you heard them speak of our being sealed with the holy Spirit of promise, you lookt for an inspirati∣on, and expected to be stampt and impressed with a certain perswasion of their Authority. Which is as much as to say, that you desired to be endued with a confidence, which as it stood upon no ground, so might be shaken without any cause at all. But I pray you hereafter to be as good as your word, applying your mind more vigorously to comprehend the sense of what you read; and where you doubt of any thing, repair to me, that I may assist your Under∣standing. And above all things let me once for all advise you to use all means to strengthen your faith concerning the other Life, and to assure your self upon such evidence as I have given you, that Jesus is gone to Jerusalem, and there expects your coming to him. Do but firmly perswade your heart of this, and keep it in your mind, and then I shall think it as im∣possible for you to grow weary, as for the Sun to stand still; and as impossible you should miscarry, as that the Sun should fall from his Orb.

After he had received a promise from him, that he would do his endeavour to make his Soul more sensi∣ble of this weighty thing: they buckled themselves afresh to their march. And never did the young man travel so lustily as now; for he had gathered much strength by his doubting; and thought he felt himself attracted and haled towards Heaven by the glory of it which now shone upon him; just as the Loadstone draws Iron to it, and makes it skip into its Bosome. If I should say that he ran now rather then went, I should misreport the fervours wherein he felt himself; which indeed furnished him with Wings, and made him not so much to run, as fly towards the Holy City of God. He was all aiery, and seemed not to touch the Earth with his feet: and as for his own Flesh, he had so many Spirits, that it was no more a Burden to him then the Feathers are to a Bird, which rather help then hinder it in its flight. But yet (so mutable is this Body of ours) he had not flown very long, be∣ing assisted by every thing that he saw, or heard, or met withal, before he was made sensible that he was cloathed with a greater weight of Flesh then he ima∣gined; and that this Globe Earth had a greater pow∣er over him then he was willing to believe. For he was seized with such a violent sickness, and felt his blood in such a boiling heat; that he thought now he was not in the Air, but at the best in a thick cloud of stinking vapours which almost choaked his Vital spi∣rits. He had not mounted up to so high a pitch be∣fore, but he fancied now that he was sunk as low; and that the Terrestrial parts prevailed, if not far more, yet as much as the Aerial had lately done. Very often he laboured to heave up himself; and left no means unattempted to soar aloft as he was wont;

but all in vain, for he was so oppressed and over-load∣ed with that sluggish matter which now flowed through his whole Body, that he could scarce fetch his breath, unless it were in sighs and groans at the alteration which he suffered. Just as a vessel of good Wine which now being sweet and pleasant, is rendred ere long acid and ungrateful to our palate, by the as∣cent and flowing of those saline particles which before were thrust down or put aside: So was his Spirit sowred and rendred unacceptable to himself, by the floating again of those ill humours, which he hoped had been buried in their graves, never to rise and di∣sturb him any more.

It would be both too tedious and too sad, to relate all the affliction which he endured from his dejected thoughts; And I shall rather chuse to tell you how his companion addressed himself to his Cure, whereby you will understand sufficiently the nature of his disease. I am sorry to see you thus ill (said his kind Physitian when he first came to him) but it is no more then I expected; and it would not much trouble me, if I did not find your mind more disordered then your body. I will not add so much to your pain, as to bid you tell me what it is that troubles you; for I am not so unacquainted with these distempers, but that I per∣ceive the symptomes of a mind much grieved, because it cannot think of Jesus and Jerusalem with the same freedome and pleasure, that it did not long ago. This I easily see is the sickness you labour under; and set∣ting aside the anguish which this creates, I do not be∣lieve you have any reason to complain. But I pray you, my Dear Brother, do you not think of our Lord very much, when you are Patient and quietly resigned

to his Will in every thing? Are you not much in his company when you take up your Cross with a meek Spirit, saying, Not my will, but thine be done? For what was Jesus, but a great Example of Patience and humble submission to the pleasure of God through∣out the whole course of his Life? Why do you then place the contentment of your heart in being able to pray with your wonted intention, and to contemplate Divine things with such a clearness as when you were in the pure sky; and not rather in accomplishing the Will of our Lord, who knows what place is best for us and what condition will most certainly conduce to our Good? Let me ask you; is not this sickness now come upon you by his appoint∣ment, and sent by the direction of his wise provi∣dence? Do you not think it to be his will, that the time which not long ago was spent in praying, should now be spent in vomiting? Let it be so then (as a good man was wont to say) and let us not mut∣ter at it: but see you take more pleasure in this that he is pleased, then if you possessed Heaven and Earth. And suppose this be a punishment for some offence, and that now he chastises some inordinate desire; for I discern, me thinks, an indication of some such scruple that molests your thoughts: what have you more to do in that case but to be thankful, and to cast your self at his feet, desiring both correction and forgiveness. To be thankful I say, because we are much beholden to him, that he will put himself to the trouble of finding out means of our amend∣ment. Nay, some pious men have thought, that to be corrected by the hand of such a Father, and with so much love, doth put us rather into a need of Hu∣mility for the moderating our joy which we shall

be apt to conceive in his Charity towards us; than of the Vertue of Patience whereby to endure the Punish∣ment that he layes upon us. For is it not a great fa∣vour that he will look after us? Is it not a mark of his esteem that he thinks it worth his pains to use his Rod to reclaim us? And would you have him be so fond as to let you proceed to commit those faults, which he knows will utterly spoil you? Should he love you if he did forbear his stripes, when he sees there is great need of such sharp instruments to reform you? Or do you think he delights to afflict, and takes a greater pleasure to hear you cry and roar under his hand, than to hear you sing and rejoyce in his arms? It is unchristian to impute unto him such Cruelty. You cannot without impiety imagine, either that he will not chastise his children in order to make them cease to offend; or that he will not grant a pardon when they humbly bow their wills to his, and ask it of him. No question he will do both when cause requires; and though sometimes he gives a pardon without any correction, yet never the correction without an intent to pardon. Lye still therefore under his Fatherly hand, and then I assure you there is greater reason both to be thank∣ful, and also to expect a pardon; because you are much amended when your own will is so broken, that you can submit to any of his Rods.

But here I must not forget to admonish you of one thing, which I have somewhere read in the advices of a grave Person, which is; To take great heed that your flesh do not deceive and cheat you with its dissi∣mulations while you are in this state; endeavouring to slubber over negligence under the pretext of, I can∣not do any more. It is true, we are not tyed to that

which we cannot do; but yet the flesh will sometimes juggle and complain of impotence, when there is no∣thing hinders us but only Sloth. Here you must look upon your self with a great many eyes; you must be∣come your own spy, and narrowly watch the most se∣cret motions of your heart. For this Eve that is with∣in us, is so desirous to be cherished and pleased, to be walking up and down the Garden, and to be eating of the forbidden fruit; that she wants not a thousand in∣ventions to make us believe that her demands do not extend to superfluities, but only to things necessary for us; that she doth not desire ease and pleasure so much as rest from hard labours; and she is in a mighty chafe if we will not give a perfect credit to her. She per∣swades us sometime that we are much weaker than in truth we can affirm our selves to be: She tells us that we cannot with safety think of any thing else but her, and is not willing to let us make a tryal: She bids us attend only to her quiet and satisfaction, and not suffer the mind to disturb her repose at all: And the more we humour and gratifie her desires, the more still she bemoans her self to move our pitty towards her. It concerns us therefore to be careful in observing what good it is that we can then perform without a manifest prejudice to our health, and to make provision that it be not neglected by means of the heavy complaints of laziness and sloth. Look up unto Jesus as often as you can. Tell him in the secrets of your soul that you hear∣tily love him. Open your very bosome to him, and shew how desirous you are to be more conform'd un∣to him by this affliction. Pray him to come and ran∣sack your heart, and to throw out of doors, whatso∣ever is offensive to him. Let him know that you had rather (not only be sick, but) dye a thousand times

than not be friends with him. And so entreat him to take pitty upon you. Promise him to do whatsoever he would have you. And exhort all others of your acquaintance, that they would love and serve him more than you can do. And this let me add for your comfort, that sometimes he bestows more favours up∣on sick men in their Beds, who can pray in no other manner, but by the humiliations and prostrate submis∣sions of their Wills to him; than he doth upon some others who spend many hours on their bended knees in that holy exercise. And do not despair, I beseech you, of receiving this mercy, though you think your self never so unworthy of it, since it costs him no more, but only his Will to bestow it.

With these, and such like Discourses, the Good man entertained his friend in this sickness for many dayes; which put the time into a speedier pace than otherwise it would have pass'd away. Though he kept his Bed for some weeks, yet the hours did not seem at all tedious to him, but rather fled away as fast, as he used before to do himself. So happy a thing it is to have a partner in our troubles, and the assistance of another shoulder beside our own to bear our griefs. Good Discourses are like the breath of Heaven, which when the burdned Vessel feels, she cuts her way through all the waves, and never complains of the greatness of her burden. Nay, they proved to him like the cool Air which refreshes the gasping Traveller in a hot day; making his very body feel its leggs the sooner, by the delicate touches which they gave unto his Spirit. All the Art of his Doctors, and an whole Apothecaries shop had not been able to restore his consumed flesh so easily, and in such a little space of time; as these So∣veraign

Cordials which distilled from the Good mans lips, and were drawn, he felt, from the very bottome of his heart. I have wondred sometimes when I con∣sidered the suddenness of his recovery; for though he lay some weeks in a feeble condition, it was because he did not at first receive these Medicines; which so soon as he tasted, he became another man, and seemed to have a New Essence infused into him. It is no new piece of Philosophy, but an Axiome older than Hippo∣crates, and which calls Solomon (that great Physician) its Father; Heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop:* 1.1 but a good word maketh it glad. And in another place of his Aphorisms we read, that, A merry heart doth good to a Medicine:* 1.2 but a broken spirit dryeth the bones.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Pro. 12.25
• * 1.2

  Pro. 17.22