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

CAP. XII.

Of Divine Charity. The Power that it hath both to esta∣blish his Resolution, and furnish him with all other Requisites for his Journey.

ANd that which will very much inamour you at the first glance, is the power which you will dis∣cover in it to establish your Resolution, and to make it so firm, that it shall not be shaken by all the force of all the world, which is nothing so strong and mighty as Love. I know this touches you with a strong incli∣nation to it, if you have any mind to offer your will to God as I advised; and therefore you will not think I importune you with a tedious discourse, if I make you more sensible of this following truth. That Love makes one will of two, and causes us to sacrifice all our own desires to the will of that we love, if we esteem it better than our selves. For what, I pray you, can we say of Love, but which a wiser man than you or I hath told us, who calls it that emotion of the soul whereby we joyn our selves in will and heart to that which is presented as lovely and convenient for us? It is such a consent, I say, of the heart to some fair and inviting object, that we consider our selves as joyned and united to it: Inso∣much that we do not look on our selves and it as re∣maining any longer two things which subsist asunder; but we conceive a Whole, whereof we think our selves but one part, and the thing beloved to be the other. Is it not necessary then, that we have a mind to cleave to this, and eternally live in dear imbraces of it? Can we endure the thought of being torn from this, and so dissolve the Whole which Love hath made? Do not we

naturally desire to conserve things, especially those of our our own creating? It is unavoidable then, that in any contest which may arise between these parts, we yield to the will of that we love, for fear of a sepa∣ration; unless that thing be worse than our selves, and so we hope to gain by the dissolution. If one of these two must be displeased, we shall ever chuse that it be our selves, unless we esteem the other to be of less va∣lue and worth than our selves. There is but that one Exception lyes against this general Truth, which I shall not stick to reiterate, that Love doth so tye us to that we love, that we and it become but one whole consisting of two parts; and that we shall sooner suf∣fer that part which we make, to be crossed in its de∣sires, than the other to which we have joyned our selves to be disgusted. Do you doubt of it? Observe then, that Love being placed on things that differ in three degrees, it comes to be divided into three sorts. Either it is to things below us, and then it is called a bare Affection; or to things equal to us, and then it is termed Friendship; or to things above us, and then it arrives at the name of Devotion. Thus I have learnt from a wise man of my acquaintance. Now the na∣ture of Love in every one of these being such, that it joyns our hearts to the thing beloved, and we and it make but one whole: in this only they differ, that though we may consent to part, and break with that which we esteem less than our selves, yet we can never agree to be separated from that which we esteem greater. The less part will alwayes be abandoned to the conservation of the greatest; we must alwayes sa∣crifice that which is worst, to keep intire the best. And therefore, though in bare Affection a man alwayes pre∣fers himself before that he loves, when one must suf∣fer

a displeasure; yet it is quite otherwise in the highest Love (and sometime in the second sort) which we call Devotion, for there a man prefers the thing he loves so much before himself, that he fears not to venture his very life for the conservation of it. He will sooner sever Soul and Body, than consent that this and his Soul should be divided. He will rather quit all the world, and never see it more, than forsake this, and be ba∣nished from it. Because, as there is no compare, he thinks, between all the world and this, so he is tyed with an incomparably stronger bond to it, than to all the world. Now of this sort is the Love that we call Charity, which is an high Devotion to our Lord. Who since he is Lord of all, the Lord of life and glory, the Author of eternal Salvation, the only begotten of the Father, full of Grace and Truth; if it were possible for us to leave some things that are better than our selves, in expectation of something better than them, to which we will give that Love which they have lost; yet he will make us love him eternally above all, and live in inseparable union with him, because there is nothing else superiour to him on which to bestow our Love if we take it from him. If we once sincerely love him, if we become one with him, it is manifestly in the na∣ture of this sublime affection, to make us part with our selves for his sake: to resign up all our own de∣sires that his will may be done: to lose whatsoever we call ours, that we may keep him and his good esteem of us. It is not possible that we should grant our con∣sent to have that knot untied, which makes us part of such a whole whereof the Son of God is the other part. There needs nothing to keep it fast, but to keep us in our wits. And therefore since a will distinct from his will, makes us two again, we shall alwayes

comprimise with his will, that we may continue one.

I believe now you think you shall make a mighty purchase, if you can but procure this Companion to go along with you. It is apparent to you, that this Charity will help and inable you to do all that is com∣manded you, though it be never so much, and hard to be otherwise effected. And do you not think that it will make all things easie also to be done? Alas! it knows no difference between doing and suffering but only this, that it chuses the latter many times as a noble testimony to its sincerity and truth. Nothing will seem absurd, nothing will be thought mis-becoming, nothing will appear difficult when once you are. in Love. It is well compared to an Artificial Glass, which when we look thorow, an enemy seems a friend, dis∣grace is rendred an honour, and hardships look like a pleasure. The Love of Christ, you know, caused him to make himself of no reputation. It preserved his Majesty, and made it seem no disparagement to be so low as a servant, and to court his Vassals. It hath this priviledge, that it cannot be defamed. And it hath this generosity, that it cannot learn to deny. Ask any thing of it, and it will make no difficulty to give it. Nay, ask a Coat, and it will give the Cloak also. Ask it to go a mile with you, and it will go two. Ask it to forgive one injury, and it will forgive an hundred. Ask it to render you a service, and it will serve you with its whole self. So that I think one of the ancient Guides of the Church had reason, who said, Love, and do what thou wilt. Take thine own course, so that thou dost but heartily Love. This is a thing so powerful, that it withstands our temperament, and resists our

most natural inclinations. It claps a new Biass upon our hearts; it carries us against the stream and tide of sensitive desires; it breaks the chains of custom; it roots up inveterate habits; it is of such vast force that it makes us vanquish our selves, and obliges us to destroy our own pleasures that we may please ano∣ther. It is strangely bountiful and liberal with all, thinking it can never do enough to make it self known to those whom it loves. From whence it is, that whereas they who live only in a fear and dread of God have starv'd and half dead affections to him, which makes them do but little, and that with a pen∣siveness and sadness, as if they desired to be excused: They whose hearts burn with Love to him have all their powers excited thereby to do their best for him; and they strain themselves with the greatest gladness to execute his pleasure in all things. And to say the truth, there is no passion of the soul, but Love hath it at its full command. They all owe their Original to Love, and would have no being at all if it were not in the soul before them. If there were no Love im∣planted by God in our natures, there would be no desire, no hatred; no grief, no joy; no fear, no de∣spair; for all these grow upon this single root, or ra∣ther are but Love shooting forth in divers shapes. They are I say but several motions which Love causes; the different figures which it assumes according as the object and occasion requires. It is Love which de∣sires when the thing is absent, which hates that which would spoil its injoyments; which grieves for the loss or fears the departure, which despairs of the coming or joyes in the presence of a beloved good. What therefore should that be, which Love cannot do; see∣ing it carries all these along with it, and leads the

whole soul thither, whither it goes it self? It is an active and busie affection; having as much Vivacity as it hath strength. Its life consists in motion; and like to the Heart it ceases to live when it ceases to stir. It is painted you know with wings and will make you fly rather then go to Jerusalem. It is like to Fire which is both a greedy and a fierce Element. A very covetous affection I mean, that thinks it never hath enough of that which it desires; and so earnest and vehement that it never rests till it hath spent it self up∣on its beloved. It is like the holy fire which God sent from Heaven, which was found unextinguished at the return from Babylon (as the Hebrews say) in the bot∣tom of a Well, all covered with mudd and dirt. Much water from without cannot quench it; and the dul∣ness and heaviness of our own temper cannot repress it. But as fire elevates the matter to which it takes though it be never so gross and ponderous: So doth Love raise the hearts wherein it makes an impression, and stirs them up to actions far surmounting their Age, their breeding and condition. There is a cer∣tain chearfulness also in this affection, like to the shining and brightness of Fire, which contributes much to the augmenting of its activity. It diffuseth a secret joy through the whole soul which cannot be dissembled; but casts a splendor into the countenance of those in whom it resides. Though Melancholy indeed is sometimes the companion of other Love, yet it cannot find so easie access to Divine Charity: For that which the one wants, the other hath, and that which the one doubts of, the other necessarily sup∣poses. Is not this the common cause of such sadness, that Love meets with no return from an heart to which it hath given its own, or is in despair of over∣coming

all the obstacles of its satisfaction? But these are things that cannot find a place in this heaven∣born affection, which is nothing else but a return of our Love to God who hath loved us first, and thereby given us assurance that he is desirous to be injoyed by us. All the heaviness then of pious souls is when they cannot make such returns as they wish, not when they feel this flame within them; for then they are strange∣ly pleased and ravished with joy, both because it is an effect of the Love of God to them, and because hereby they do actually injoy him. Now as Melancholy and sadness do oppress the spirits and make us lazy and unwilling to stir; so this chearfulness and lightsome∣ness of mind which Love infuses do set them free, and render us active and vigorous in our motion. Melan∣choly is a Lethargick humour and binds up all the powers, because its frozen disposition imagines all things impossible to be either done or avoided: but chearfulness by its heat and warmth gives us some de∣gree of confidence that things are not so hard to be undertaken; and it thaws, melts and loosens our sa∣culties into freedom and liberty, whereby we become of a lively forward and ready disposition. Love there∣fore being of this pleasant and chearful nature, you see must needs both quicken your spirit and facilitate your work. Nay it is apt to excite and inspire others who come near us, and therefore much more our selves. Chearfulness and the love from whence it springs makes our countenance smooth and clear, and invites others into our Society. When this passion stirs in the heart, the face is all over touched with the sweet∣ness of it; which both intices and inlivens those that approach us. How is it possible then that we should not feel these effects of it our selves, that are so sensible

to others? or what heart is there so cold and indif∣ferent, that would not be possessed with this affection which is as useful as delightful; and whose benefits redound to our neighbours and stay not in our selves? It will not let us be a terrour to our own souls, nor appear with such a dismal aspect that we should scare and affright others. It will not drive others from Piety while it carries us unto it. It will not suffer us to put Religion on the rack that we may look severe. And it is far from making us appear so, as though we imagined we could not be saved, unless we make an ugly face.

What shall I say more? need I tell you that Love is full of imitation and forces us to conform our selves to the humour and disposition of him whom we Love? There is a stranger property by far then this which will make you open your heart to it; and that is a singular Sagacity which it is Master of, whereby it knows what is fit to be done without any teaching. If you were fully in the power of it, it would go near to render me of no use, being it self instead of twenty Masters. It knows what will please before it be told and sees what is acceptable without a director. It hath eyes of its own to find out its way, and by its in∣nate wisdome would lead you streight to Jerusalem. It is very skilfull to spy out its duty, and hath a quick perception of what is befitting in every passage of life. In so much that when a man begins to Love, he begins to know how to guide himself. His Love will suggest unto him many things which he ought to do; and be instead of a thousand Monitors to put him upon the doing of them. It will make a man descry the least faults in himself, though it hide them in others. It

notes an undecency with as much severity, as another marks a gross impurity. It labours to overcome the smallest infirmity, and weeps more for a mote in its eye, then others do for a beam. Nay it is afflicted for those things which no body sees, save only it self. It blushes more for a vain thought, then the rest of the world do for a monstrous act. It hath a curiosity about those little circumstances, which all men are wont to oversee or neglect. Its niceness and delicacy is so great, that it abhors the very shadow of all evil. And it every way strives to adorn it self with such ac∣curacy; that there may not be the least speck to render it less fair and beautiful in the eyes of God.

Love therefore I beseech you, Love as much as ever you are able, if you mean to be happy. Make your heart ready as an Altar, for this Fire from above to descend upon it. Prepare your self as a Sacrifice to be offered up in this Holy flame to the Lord of Love. Let all the world know that you are a consecrated thing: tell it that you cannot entertain its sute, nor unhallow the place where heaven is pleased to dwell. Yield your self a captive to this mighty Conquerour, whereby you will be inabled to conquer all things else. Subject your self to the power of that, which will bring the Devil, the World, and the Flesh under your feet. Let it take away your liberty of doing what you please, that it may make you free to do as you ought. Possess it of your soul intirely and suffer it to inspire all your desires and to order all your motions; and it will not fail to possess you of that blessed place to which you wish to be conducted. And is this any difficult thing that I require of you? I should rather think that we are highly obliged to God for making

the way to Jerusalem so easie and our arriving there so certain as it is. For Love is the most natural and plea∣sant thing in the world which will certainly bring us thither, and God being so lovely and having loved us so much, one would think it should be an easie thing to beget it in our hearts. Do you not mark how a Dog loves you, if you do but throw him a bone or some such thing, which to you is of no use or worth at all? For this he fawns upon you; for this he stayes in your house, and keeps your door, and defends your goods; this makes him follow you at the heels if you please, to travel with you long journies, to forsake all other Masters for your service, and many times to dye with you: though it be a poor thing, which you know not what to do withall, unless you cast it unto him. How can you chuse then but love Jesus, and be at his command, and follow his steps, and leave all others for his sake, and even give your life to him; who hath given you not a thing of no value, not that which cost him nothing, or that which he could not tell what to do withall, but himself, his holy blood, his pretious promises which it cost an infinite deal of pain to seal and ratifie unto you. Are you still in∣sensible of his favours when you think of this? Are you still to learn to Love when such a weight of Love as this doth press your heart? If such a thought could enter my mind, I would send you to the brutes to be their Scholler, I would call your Spaniel and bid him teach you; I would cease to be your instructer any longer, and put you there to learn the affection you owe to your dearest Lord and Master. But your blushes bid me spare this language and seem to assure me both that you are ashamed to owe your vertue to such examples, and that you feel already this flame

inkindled in your heart. Feed it I beseech you con∣tinually and let it increase unto greater ardors of Love as it will infallibly, if you do but consider what great things your Saviour hath done for you, and that he is still busie in procuring your good; and in short, that there is not an hour, not a moment wherein you do not stand indebted to him for eternal blessings, or for the means of them, or for the grace to help you to at∣tain them.

And indeed the poor Pilgrims heart did beat at such a rate, that it seemed to knock against his ribs. He was set all on fire with these words; and at last found means to vent himself and burst out in such ex∣pressions as these. O Sir, what have you done! I feel the Love of Jesus burn so vehemently in my breast, that I shall be devoured by it, if it last a moment lon∣ger in this force. I have scarce any breath left to tell you, that you have made me love your self also with a violent passion. I have no power no more then de∣sire, to resist this Almighty Lover of Souls. I render my self his prisoner and wish to be eternally held in his chains. You have linkt me to your self too so fast, that I am at once become his slave, and your servant. I would go to the worlds end to seek these two Com∣panions Humility and Charity; if they were not alrea∣dy become my guests by your means. You have given me a greater treasure then I thought to find in those few words which I received from you; and methinks I feel already that I am nought, and I have nought, and I desire nought but Jesus and Jerusalem. If it be not absurd to speak in such terms, I am in love with this Love which you have described. I see methinks Humility and all things else in its armes. I embrace

them both with all my soul. I welcome them with my best affections into my heart. And if I had more hearts then one, I would offer them all to the Humble Love of my sweetest Saviour. Go on Sir, as long as you please; if you have not taught me all my lesson in teaching me to Love. You have tyed my ears to your tongue and they cannot but listen to your speech. Nor shall I ever feel any weariness in hearing of you; for you have made me in Love with your discourse, by breathing the Love of my Lord into my heart.

Here he making a little rest, the Guide had leave to resume his office: though he was so fill'd with joy to see the good effects of what he had said, that it was not easie on a sudden to find room for any other thoughts. The desire also that he felt of speaking something extraordinary on this occasion, had like to have imposed silence on him, and denyed a passage to his words. But his Prudence telling him how ne∣cessary it was to keep himself now from such trans∣ports, he soon reduced himself to his usual temper and thus began to renew his discourse. It is no wonder to find that Jesus captivates hearts; and that the Love of a dying Saviour is so powerful as to inthral them to his service. All that surprises me is no more then this, that such feeble words as mine should so sensibly touch your inclinations to him, and with such speed excite so high a degree of Love in your heart. It gives me great incouragement to continue my instructions, and affords no less incouragement to your self to continue your attention; For if you are already under the po∣wer of Love by what hath been now delivered, I shall make you love unmeasurably before I have finished this discourse. You have seen but half of the riches of

that golden sentence, and there are greater secrets still behind in those two pretious words which are at the conclusion of it. For I pray you satisfie me in this de∣mand; Have you well considered what Jerusalem is, to which you now direct your face? I will not stay for your answer, but proceed to tell you that I am now going to give you such an Idaea of it, that if you keep it fresh in your mind, you cannot imagine how it will snatch you from the world and heighten your love unto your Saviour, and lift you quite out of your own will, if you had a mind to fall into it back again. And truly I cannot think that you should have any great list to travel long, or that you should not soon feel a weariness to invade your members; if you go you know not whither, and carry not along with you a true information of the happy repose, you are like to meet withall at your journies end. Let Jerusalem then be the subject of our next discourse, and suffer your eyes to be drawn to that blessed place, which I believe you have often heard commended, as the Perfection of Beauty and the Joy of the whole earth.