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

CAP. XI.

He commends to the Pilgrim, two Companions: Humi∣lity and Charity. Directs where to find them. With a large Discourse of the former of them.

IT was not long before the Good man of the house came to give him the usual morning salutations, and to inquire how he had rested that night. But when he entred his Chamber he beheld such a joy in his coun∣tenance, that it quite turned by that thought, and made him congratulate his chearfulness, which he told him he took as a certain indication, that his Counsels had found a good acceptance, and were like to be pur∣sued. His Guest was willing that he should impute his pleasant aspect to that cause, and so told him nothing of his dream: Fearing indeed that he might think him childish and superstitious, if he knew that he conceived so much joy from such sleight appearances and shadows of comfort. But having expressed his great satisfaction in those preparatory discourses wherewith he had been pleased to honour him; he told him that the New day was not so welcome as himself, and that the Hours seemed too sluggish, and the morn∣ing to make over-long delay, to bring him the rest of of the Counsels which he expected from his mouth, You have given me a rare Good-morrow, replyed the Guide, and I have seldome met with such early joys: Let us give thanks to God therefore for this happy be∣ginning,

and so qualifie our selves for the continuance of his favours. The poor Pilgrim (for so he esteemed himself) imbraced this pious motion with all his heart; and so having joyned together in their devout ac∣knowledgments, the one prepared himself to speak, and the other to hear what further related to his in∣tended Journey to Jerusalem. And the Sky being ve∣ry clear, the Earth having charged the Air with no vapours at all, they were invited into the fields, at once to refresh their bodies with a walk, and their minds with good discourse. Considering also the security they should enjoy thereby from all the diver∣sions that other company might give them; it was agreed, that all the time he stayed there, if the wea∣ther were favourable, they should spend the greatest part of the day abroad. You will expect, perhaps, that I should set down at large the particulars of every dayes conference, and tell you where the night broke it off, and with what circumstances it was renewed the next morning; but I fear that method would extend my narrative to too great a length: And therefore I shall content my self to give you a continued Relation of the principal things which at several times enter∣tained our Pilgrim, during his stay with this good man; whose charity would not suffer him to depart, till he was fully instructed in all things that concerned his safe passe to the City of God.

As soon then as they had the house on their backs, and were come into the open Air, the Guide began to speak unto him to this effect. I will not be so distrust∣ful of your memory, as to make a repetition of what hath been already said, but proceed to tell you, that having disposed your affairs in such sort as I have di∣rected,

and put your self in good order for your Jour∣ney, you must be sure to provide your self of two Com∣panions to go along with you, which indeed you can never be without, whose names are HUMILITY and CHARITY. The former of these will alwayes keep you in a mean opinion of your self, and the latter will raise you to an high esteem of God and your Saviour, breeding in you a passionate desire to be like to them, and a grateful resentment of all their kindness to you. And that you may not think I intend to put you upon some long search for them, I shall tell you for your comfort, that you shall find them both lodged toge∣ther in one place from whence they never stir, but are alwayes ready at hand to assist those that there seek for them. I know you are desirous that I should ac∣quaint you where that is, and because I would save your pains as much as ever I can, I shall send you no further than your self, if you still keep in mind that sentence which I told you would be of daily use, and which you requested to have explained; for in that you will be sure to meet them embracing one ano∣ther in an inseparable conjunction. You do well, I hope, remember it; yet I cannot chuse but repeat it to you, and wish you again & again to say as affectionate∣ly as you are able, I am nought, I have nought, I desire nought, but only this one thing, which is our Lord Jesus Christ; and to be in peace with him at Jerusalem. HUMI∣LITY sayes, I am nought, I have nought. And LOVE sayes, I desire nought but Jesus and Jerusalem. These two you may the better keep in your company, because you cannot lose either of them, unless you will lose them both; (and who is there that would not at least have one friend to be of his society in his travels?) So loving∣ly they do agree together, that they are by no means

willing to be asunder. If the one be admitted, the other will not be excluded; and as the one grows to a taller pitch, the other advances together with it. The more you humble your self, the higher will your Love ascend; and as that is exalted, so will you learn still lower to depress your self. For the more you dis∣cern your self to be nothing, with the greater ardency of affection will you embrace Jesus, who is desirous to make you something worth: and the more you admire and love him & his incomparable perfections, the bet∣ter still will you be able to take a view of your own nothing. And that is a thing which I think fit to ob∣serve to you before we pass any further, because it may be of great use unto you in your Pilgrimage. That the Humility which I commend unto you, is not to be exercised so much in a direct considering of your self, your sinfulness and your misery; (though this be very profitable at the first) as in a still, quiet and loving ad∣miration of the excellent Goodness, Purity and Love of Jesus. When you believe him to have the fulness of the Godhead dwelling in him bodily, and especial∣ly when you are indued with a savoury feeling of his holiness and kindness; this sight of him will beget in your soul a more pure, spiritual and sweet Humility, than the beholding of your self can possibly do, which produces an Humility more gross, boisterous and un∣quiet. As there is a Love which is calm and quiet, when not at all stirr'd with the passion, we remain possessed of all the pleasure of it; So is there an Humility of the same nature, which silently sinks us down to the very bottom of our being, without stirring and troubling of our souls, as we are wont to do when we violently plunge our thoughts into them. But both of these descend from above, when our minds are fastned to

caelestial objects, which alwayes are in a serene tran∣quillity: they will not spring from things beneath, which are tossed in a perpetual and restless agitation. We never seem less in our own eyes, than when we look down from an high upon our selves: and being then in peace, we have less also of that vexation wherein our souls are apt to boil and rage when they are the nearest objects of our thoughts. Our Humi∣lity will be the more when we admire Jesus; and it will be of a temper more mild and gentle, like him whom we admire. It will not lose any thing of it self by ta∣king its original from him; but only lose that sowre∣ness which is mingled with it when it hath its begin∣ning from our selves. You will plainly understand my meaning, if you do but consider, that by fixing your eyes upon your self, you may indeed discern that you are a most wretched, sinful creature: but by fast∣ning them upon him, you will both see the same, and that more clearly; and moreover feel that you are a meer nothing. This sense of your self, which layes you lowest of all other, you can never owe to any thing else, but a sight of him who wants nothing. His Fulness appearing so great, your Emptiness will seem as vast; and in compare with his Perfections, you will think your self nothing but Imperfection. When you consider that all is his, at that thought you have lost your self, by finding that you are not your own: and when you think that he is the original of all, you are lost again in a sense that you had been nothing with∣out him. So that in this way you will be as much cast down to the ground, and rolled as much in the dust, as by any other reflections: All the difference is, that you will not roll and tumble about in the turbulency of your own distracted thoughts, and the violent com∣motion

of your furious passions. You will only lye at his feet in a lowly posture, adoring of his Excel∣lencies, praising his surpassing Perfections, confessing your own meanness, beseeching him to pity a poor Soul that thinks it self nothing, unless it may see him there, and desiring him to take the opportunity of doing himself that honour, and you that kindness, as out of his fulness to impart a new spirit, and a divine nature to you. Nay this Humility will make you study to cast all other things out of your thoughts, and labour only to be beloved of him, without which you judge your self to be of all creatures most miserable. It is not to be told what the benefits of this sort of Humi∣lity are: but to let you see something of its great vir∣tue, reflect upon that which we lately discoursed con∣cerning the force of a strong Resolution, and hearty surrender of your self to God. Which as it contains all things you are to do with in its comprehension, so it is supported by nothing more than a profound Humi∣lity. When we consider that we were made by God, that we depend upon him every moment, that we are infinitely ingaged to him for many millions of his fa∣vours; when we think what a Soveraign Authority he hath over us, how much he is superiour to us, what a right he hath to all our services, and how wise and good his will is; it is impossible that we should avoid resolving to give him our hearts, and to persist eternal∣ly in the abnegation of our own wills and desires, which we can never suffer to be competitors with his. This Humility will not be forward to cloathe you with shirts of hair, to prescribe you no other dyet but the meanest you can procure, to put a whip into your hand wherewith to let your self blood, to rob you of your hose and shooes, that you may go barefoot to

Jerusalem: It will not bid you strike your bare breast against the stones, nor tell you, that to be a Saint, you must roll your naked body in the briers, or tumble in the same manner in heaps of Winter Snow, or plunge your self up to the neck in an Icy Pool: But it will infallibly strip you of your self, and starve all your carnal desires, and break your will in pieces, and lay you at the foot of the Cross of Christ, and dispose you to all those rigours, and a thousand more if your Lord did signifie that he would be pleased with such austerities.

How safe then and secure must you needs think your self under the conduct of such a Companion? you can∣not have a better Guard, nor be put into a place of greater assurance, if you seek over all the world for it, than that to which Humility will lead you. For making you distrustful of your own power and strength, it will urge you to a continual dependance upon your Lord, without whom you feel that nothing, much less such an excellent thing as you design can be atchieved. We accuse very much the weakness of our nature, we complain heavily of the body of flesh and blood, which continually betrayes us, we conceit that we should do rare things, were we but once quit of this load of earth, and suffered to move in the free and yielding Air. But let me tell you, and believe it for a truth; though we had no society with a terre∣strial nature; nay, though our minds were free and clear from all mortal concretion, though we had no cloathes at all to hinder our motion; yet our ruine might arise out of our spirits, and by pride and self-confidence we might throw our selves down into utter destruction. For what commerce, I pray you, had

the Apostate Angels with our corporeal nature? what familiarity with a body? Do we not conceive them to have been pure spirits separated from all earthly con∣tagion? And yet by placing all in themselves, by be∣ing puffed up in their own thoughts, and not acknow∣ledging their need of the Divine presence and assi∣stance, we conclude that they tumbled themselves in∣to an Abysse of misery and woe irrecoverable. Now they are in a worse condition then if they were spirits of a smaller size: Now the torment they suffer is pro∣portionable to the nobleness of their nature. For the sharper and quicker the mind is, and the greater its indowments are which it hath received; the greater mischief doth it bring upon it self, and the sadder are its perplexities when it is destitute of the special help and presence of God. As a great Giant being blinded must needs stumble more grievously, and give himself sorer knocks then he would have done, if he had not been of so huge a bulk: So a mind and reason eleva∣ted to an higher pitch then others, is carried headlong into an heavier ruine, when it is deprived of that Divine light which is necessary for its guidance and preser∣vation. Excellency of nature therefore little profits if God be not present with it, and he absents himself from all, that place not their strength, sufficiency and safeguard in him, but in themselves. And on the other side Fragility of nature is not that which will un∣do us if the Divine presence do not withdraw it self, which it never doth from humble and lowly minds that confide in him and not in their own power, which were it a thousand times greater then it is, would not be sufficient to conserve it self. Our pride and vanity and forgetfulness of God then is that which we must accuse; not the infirmity and craziness of our flesh;

for as the excellency of the Angelical nature could not save them when they disjoyned themselves from their Creator: So the weakness of ours shall not harm us, if we keep close to him and never sever our selves from that heavenly power which worketh mightily in us. Do you not see then how much you must stand in∣debted to this Associate in your journy? For it is Humility that must fasten you to God, that will keep you in a constant adherence to him, and not let you stir a foot from him; that will make you tremble to think of looking into your self and not behold him there. This is in effect your strength and salvation; this supplies the defects of your nature; this is the remedy of your infirmity; and after a strange way this raises you above all the power of the world, by keep∣ing you down and pressing you very low in your own thoughts.

I must not defraud it therefore of those just praises that are due to its vertue, which may recommend it more to your affection and make its company more grateful in your travels. But it is fit you should know that this humility which makes us seem so little or no∣thing in our own eyes, is one of the most glorious things in the world, and places a man among the an∣cient Hero's. It is indeed the height and sublimity of our mind, the true Gallantry of our spirits. It letting us see what poor despicable things we are, causes us to surmount our selves and to have no regard to such low and petty interests as those of our own. It is not a sneaking quality, that dispirits the soul and deprives it of all its force and vigor, but a generous disposition of mind, that will not suffer it to imploy its forces upon such a mean and contemptible service as that of plea∣sing

our selves. Let it not seem a Paradox to you, for there is nothing truer, that Pride and conceited∣ness are the qualities of base bred souls, of feeble and ignoble minds; and that lowliness is the indowment of a soul well born, nobly descended, and bravely edu∣cated in the knowledge of the most excellent things. For whether is greater I pray you, he that sets a value upon little trifles, or he that despises them? Is not he that despises them? whose thoughts are taken up with sublimer objects that make himself and all things here besides appear as nothing in his eyes. I believe you will say there was not a greater man in the world in those dayes then Moses, a leader of a mighty people, the Captain General of all the Pilgrims of that Age, who had wrought wonders in Aegypt, who had signa∣lized himself by the drowning of Pharoahs Army in the Sea:* 1.1 and yet it is apparent there was not a meeker person living upon the earth: no man had a meaner opinion of himself. He was content to be taught by Jethro though he knew so much himself; nay he was not offended at his reprehension, but submitted his judg∣ment to a better reason. Could there be a greater instance of his Humility and Gallantry both together? He that had overcome so many, now overcame him∣self. He that had triumphed over mighty hosts, now leads his pride in Triumph and tramples it under his feet. He cared not who had the honour of it, so wise and great things were effected. His own glory he valued not, but his Humility inspired him by all means to seek the peoples good. What think you of Abra∣ham also a more ancient Pilgrim then this? who calls himself but Dust and Ashes; who condescended so far as to pray Lot a person inferiour to himself, that there might be no difference between them: And yet this

was that great man who had overcome so many Kings in battle, and brought away so many spoils, and re∣deemed Lot himself from Captivity. Hath not his Humility rendred him more famous then those victo∣ries? Hath he not crowned himself with greater glory in not vaunting himself in those Trophies, then if he had been served continually by those conquered Princes? If one man thinks clay to be clay and there∣fore treads upon it; another thinks it to be gold and therefore admires it; which of these hath the braver mind? Hath not he who doth not admire the clay and embrace the dirt? So he truly that calls himself but Dust and Ashes hath certainly a very great soul; while he that understandeth not but hath himself in admiration is a weak and basely minded man. He hath a great spirit who makes no account of those things which others are proud of. He is generous who despises things far greater than those, which others esteem the marks of their glory: who doth not swell with high atchievements when his envious neigh∣bours are puffed up with every trifle. Humility then you see is not sheepiness, but loftiness of mind and the most elevated pitch of the soul. It is not dejected∣ness of spirit, but a raised understanding of God and of our selves. And therefore let us be low (as one of the ancient Guides of the Church advises) that we may be high. If we admire any thing here, let it be the sub∣limity of humble minds.

I cannot conclude before I add for your further in∣citement, that Humility is of an excellent good nature and hath a singular obligingness in its constitution. It makes us no less acceptable unto men then unto God, and renders us amiable though we have nothing else

to give us any advantage. Do you not see how in∣tollerable the Proud are? and what is the reason of it, but because they scorn those who are not of their rank? They cannot be obliged because they think whatsoever you do is due to their merit. They would be loved by all, without loving again. They will command in all companies, and have every one yield to their humors. They will teach all and learn of none. They are incapable of gratitude, and think you are honoured enough for your services, if they do but receive them. They would draw all to themselves, and are unacquainted with that which charms all the world, I mean bounty and liberality. The Humble man no doubt then is the most agreeable person upon earth; whom you oblige by a good word, which he thinks he doth not deserve: who thanks you for the smallest courtesie: who had rather obey then rule: who is desirous to learn of the meanest Scholler: who contemns no body but himself: who loves though he be not loved: who thinks nothing too much to do for those that esteem him: and who is afraid he hath ne∣ver recompenced enough the civilities which are done unto him. In short, this Humility is of such great va∣lue and so good natured, that there is nothing com∣parable to it but its twin sister, Divine Charity. This amiable pair are like the right foot and the left by which the traveller performs his journey. There needs no more but this happy couple to carry you through all the paths of piety and bring you safe to Jerusalem. Let us turn our eyes then if you please from the one to the other, and look a while upon the beauty and graces of Charity, whose charms are so po∣werful that you cannot chuse but open to it your em∣braces.

Notes

• * 1.1

  V. Chryst. in 1 Cor. 1.3.