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

CAP. VIII.

He begins his advice: and after the Grand Direction, which contains many of the rest; he gives him sundry preparatory Counsels. And above all, tells him that he must be provided with a strong Resolution.

YOu shall find me obedient, replyed the Pilgrim, in all things unto your Precepts; for truly my heart as you are pleased to remember is very much upon Jerusalem. And since it touched me with no small joy to hear you say, That there was something belonging to this affection I have for Jerusalem which would comprehend a great part of the Directions you had to give me about the way thither; if it will not look like the arrogance of directing you how to place your Instructions, let me be so bold as to desire before you say any thing else, that I may know what the general advice is which you have to bestow upon me. It is well done, replyed the Guide, that you have put me in mind of that passage in my former discourse. And I am obliged I think to praise you for it, both be∣cause it argues that you diligently attend to what I speak, and because it cannot be better placed than where you would have it, in the very entrance of those Directions that you are to carry along with you. And to make my Counsel the more portable, and to

be comprised in as small a room as can be, that which I mean is nothing else but this. As you pass along in the way that I shall tell you of, it will be of great use to you to have these few words alwayes in your mind and sometimes upon your tongue, I AM NOUGHT, I have nought, I desire nought, but only to be in safety with Jesus at Jerusalem. This one sentence you shall see hath so much in bowels its, that if you draw forth the vertue of it and diligently observe it, my life for yours, you shall not fail in a competent time to arrive at the top of your desires.

Indeed, said the Pilgrim, methinks I feel that I have received very great instruction already from you, and I did not think to have learned so much in so short a space, and by so small a company of words. Sure you have given me some Spirits and the very extract of things, else I could not have so suddenly felt the power of these words diffusing it self through my whole soul. I am strangely refreshed by them, and they have gi∣ven me such a tast of your skill, that I perceive you can instantly reach my heart when you please but to open your mouth, and if I were half dead I perswade my self you could revive me in a moment. But yet I believe that I should be the more inlightned by them and better know their use; if I might be beholden to you for an account of the secrets of which they are compounded, and understand all the things that are contained in them. Do me the favour therefore I beseech you to open the sense and disclose all the force of those words, that I may know what meaning you have involved in so brief a sentence. You shall not long be ignorant of that, said the Guide, if you will but have the patience to attend a while to what follows as a good preparatory to that discourse and to

all the rest that concerns your safe passage to Jerusalem. I must advise you before you enter upon so long a journy or make any further inquiries, to see that your body be in good health, lest you should fall into any such sickness by the way as might prove dangerous and fatal to you. And for that end I would also wish you to take some Physick, the better to prepare your self for Travel; and to disburden Nature of those ill humours wherewith you may abound, which will at least indispose you and make you lazy and soon weary if they be not timely discharged and carried away. Now the best counsels that I can give you of this kind are these that ensue. First, I would have you purge your mind of all unworthy thoughts of God, and per∣swade your self that he is very good, a lover of souls, and exceeding desirous to see them at Jerusalem. Be sure you leave not so much as a suspition of his wil∣lingness to make you happy, and to afford you suffici∣ent means to attain your end. For you will not be able to stir a foot in your way, if you bear any jealou∣sies about you that God may not favour your under∣taking, nor go along with you. You have been bred its like in a great detestation of Superstition, and may have heard so many declamations out of the Pulpit against it; that you may think it thunder-struck ma∣ny years ago: but let me tell you, that if you cherish not good thoughts of God in your mind, all your Re∣ligion will degenerate into this spurious and base∣born devotion. In stead of that free and friendly converse that ought to be maintained between God and his creatures, you will only flatter him in a servile manner and bribe him not to be your enemy. Do not imagine that I abuse this word Superstition, or that you are in no danger to fall into it; for there are

none more guilty of it, than they that seem to be most abhorrent from it. Did you never observe what a terrible image of God there is erected in most mens minds, and how frightful their apprehensions are when they look upon it? Never was there any Devil more cruel, or sought more to devour, then they have painted him in their souls. How is it possible then they should address themselves with any considence and pleasure to him? How can they entertain any chearful and friendly society with a Being which ap∣pears in a dress so horrible to them? And yet wor∣ship him they must for fear of incurring his displea∣sure, and lest their neglects of him should rouze up his anger against them. Now between this necessity of coming to him, and that fearfulness to approach him, what can there be begotten but a forced and constrained devotion; which because they do not love, they would willingly leave, did not the dread and horrour they have in their souls of him drag them to his Altars? And what are they wont to do there? Truly nothing but make faces, and whine, and cry, and look as if they were going to execution, till they can flatter themselves into some hopes that he is moved by these pittiful noises and forced submissions to lay aside his frowns and cast a better aspect upon them. But then his nature remains the same still and they fancy that he delights in the blood of men; though for that time he was pleased to smile a little upon them. And therefore they are constrained to renew these slavish devotions, and to fawn again upon him that they may purchase another gracious look from him. In this circle do these poor wretches spend their dayes and advance not one step toward Jerusalem. For as there can be little comfort to them I should

think in such grim smiles: So you cannot imagine that it can be acceptable to God to see men croutch in this fashion to him, and out of meer fear afford him their unwilling prostrations. No, this if any thing in the world is that which ought properly to wear the name of Superstition. A devotion which hath no inward spring in the heart, no life nor spirit in it; and by con∣sequence is void of all savour and tast to them that perform it. It is sottishness to think that God will be contented with that which hath no better original than outward compulsion, and in its own nature is dead and heartless, dry and insipid; and yet no better service will you present him withal, unless you frame a lovely, fair image of him in your mind; and alwayes represent him to your self as most gracious, kind, and tender-hearted to his creatures. Let this therefore be your first care, not only to form such a beautiful Idaea of him, but also to settle and fix it so firmly in your heart that nothing may be able to pull it out. Then will you be prepared to follow all my other counsels and most chearfully also resign your self to the obedience of the hardest commands. This will make you absolutely give up your self to the Divine Will, and to embrace it freely also as most to be cho∣sen, and that for it self and its own innate goodness. You will think that nothing but good can come from this good God, and therefore you will submit to his Laws as loving commands, and not as imperious, tyran∣nical Impositions. You will deny your self in any thing that he would have you, that you may be made better than your self, by becoming like to him. But otherwise I must tell you (and it is no new observation neither) that if your conceptions of him be not such as make you heartily love him; as you will serve him

only with a forced obedience, so you will obey him with a sordid and niggardly affection. You will be very scanty and sparing in those duties which are of greatest moment and most pleasing to him; and stud∣dy only to express your liberality in things of lighter concernment, and such are most pleasing to your self. Nay, things of your own devising you will be more ready to heap upon him as so many courtesies where∣by you shall oblige him; than to render him those services that are appointed by himself, which will be the less grateful, because they are his will whom you cannot love. This is ever the fruit of hard and penu∣rious thoughts of God, that they shrivel up mens hearts too, and make them needy and penurious in the ex∣pressions of their love and obedience to him; and more forward to give him any thing than that which he most desires.

But I think I might have left you to deduce these things your self who have a capacity I see for greater matters, and therefore I shall shorten the rest of these kind of counsels and forbear all long Discourses and Comments upon them. Secondly, Then it must be your care when your mind hath recovered right thoughts of God, to purifie your intentions throughly and to see that they be clear and unspotted in his sight. Spread your very heart before him, and desire him that you may have his love, and that he would deal with you, as you sincerely aim at nothing, but only to become what he would have you. Tell him that you mean in the greatest simplicity of your soul to do his will. Protest to him a thousand times that you desire above all things to know what that good, that perfect and acceptable will of his is. Let him know that you are so passionately bent to please him,

that you would not stick to purchase the understand∣ing of his pleasure at the rate of the whole world, if it was in your disposal. This will prepare you in the third place to throw out the sluggish humour which is in all our natures, and to dispose your will with true fervour to attend this business of searching out the will of God. Ingage your self as solemnly as you can to be very diligent in finding out the truth. Perswade your mind not to rest contented with that which first offers it self to your hands, but to examine and prove all things, and then to hold fast that which is good. It is a fault too common that men take things upon the credit of others by whom they are brought to them; and not upon their own credibility. The reason of which is no other but this, that in the one way we make a purchase of them at a cheap rate, or rather have them for nothing; but in the other they will not come so easily but cost no small pains to acquire them. There is a kind of impatience also in some natures which is not able to suffer any delayes: And this being joyned with a softness and delicacy which is a sworn enemy to all manner of trouble and pains; it renders men very willing to spare themselves the length and tediousness of an enquiry, together with all the difficulties of a choice. Hence it comes to pass that they love at first sight, and suffer others to chuse their belief for them: and then afterwards they re∣tain by custome and prescription, that which they took but by chance and preoccupation. Make an essay therefore of the patience which you promise in your whole journey, at the very entrance of it; and let your diligence to know the will of God be an earnest of that you mean to use in the doing of it. And as I would have you free your self from this lazy,

credulous humour; so let it be your next care to rid your mind of its opposite, obstinate incredulity. Let not the cure of one sickness be the cause of another, nor that which takes away your softness and easiness to believe, render you hard and impenetrable by all the impressions of truth. Imploy the thoughts which I would have you spend in serious inquiry, to possess your mind with a strong perswasion of the certainty of Christian Religion, and with a right understanding of the true design of that glorious Revelation. For that both gives you such a prospect of the Blessed place you are going to, as no where else can be met withal; and directs you to such a course of real piety as plainly leads unto it. And the more confident you grow that Jesus is the Son of God (as the voyce from Heaven witnessed) that he is the Lord of Life and the King of Glory; the surer will you tread all the way you go, and the less danger there will be of stumbling: The sounder also and more healthful will you grow, so as not to faint, much less to forsake the Christian course. And next to this I beseech you use the great∣est diligence to provide that your Faith which is to do all things in your journey, be not it self infected with the common disease of sloth and idleness. Be sure to purge your soul from all the drousie and phleg∣matick opinions you may have about it, which stifle and choak the very spirit and life of it. Do not cease till you have freed it of all obstructions, and rendred it so active and vigorous; that you can be confident in its own nature it will necessarily produce an holy Life. Suffer it not to rest, no not in Christ himself, till it animate you to a free and cheerful obedience to all his commands. Let it give your soul a sense that the whole Religion is comprehended in this one

powerful word. Let it seem as a poynt from whence all the lines of your duty are drawn: like a fire in the middle of a room, sending out its heat on every side in an ardent love of God, and of your Brethren. Esteem it I mean such an hearty perswasion of the Truth and Goodness of all that Christ hath spoken, that by the force and virtue of it you become ob∣sequious to his will in all things.

And having effected this, then search your Con∣science very narrowly to find out all the sins whereof you stand guilty: some of which may lurk so secretly, or look so demurely, that a Faith which is not very bu∣sie, may either not espy them, or let them pass for no offences. These must all be purged out and left be∣hind, as things that can by no means be permitted to go along with you. And for that end let me advise you to unload your soul of them all by humble confes∣sion: and if any of them lye as an heavy burden upon you, to repair to your spiritual Physician, that he may help by his counsel and prescriptions to ease you of them. And in the last place, Let all these be at∣tended with a strong Resolution, that though your sins should follow, and call after you, and beg to have but one word with you; they shall be so far from receiving any entertainment, that you will not so much as enter into speech with them, nor listen to the voice of any of their temptations. I will not deny but that it is a dif∣ficult thing not to lend so much as a good look to an old acquaintance; yet it will appear much otherwise to those who confess their sins so as to hate them, and to purge themselves from all affection to them. That therefore you must give me leave to subjoyn to this Advice, That you do not content your self with such Physick as cleanseth only the first passages, and carries

away no more than the grosser humours out of the greater chanels of your life; but that you administer such as will search into the furthest parts of your soul, and cleanse the spirit from all its defilements. You must not leave behind so much as a good opinion of any evil way. Not the smallest kindness for it, or if it be possible any inclination to it must be suffered to re∣main. For this you know undid no less than six hun∣dred thousand Travellers to Jerusalem in ancient times, and left all their carkasses buried in the Desarts; who left Egypt, as you now are going to forsake the world; but it was in their Bodies only, and not in their hearts and affection. Their mouths watred still at the re∣membrance of the Flesh and Coleworts, the Garlick and Onyons: and they had a secret inclination which could not be long concealed to return to those injoy∣ments, which they had abandoned. They loved the Country from whence they were departed, though they hated the bondage: And it was not so much the evil customs, as the cruelties of that Land, which made them sigh for deliverance. Which is but the type and picture of those persons now, who leave their sinful waies and practices, resolving never to return to them; but yet they bear them a great good will, and could be very well pleased if they could gain a permission to enjoy them, and not be damn'd to the bargain. They are often casting a kind and favour∣able look towards them; it tickles them to think how happy they should be if they could sometimes keep them company, and suffer nothing by it. It is not their sins that they are fallen out withall, but some of their followers that wait upon them: their smiles and sa∣lutes they receive with joy; and fear nothing but the sting which appears in the tail of them. We are wont,

you know, to compare such persons to those sick men who dare not taste of the salt meats, and the raw fruit which they see their friends eat before them, because the Physician assures them, that Death lyes in ambush under every morsel. But they speak of them with such a gust, that (as we say) they lick their lips at those dishes: They fancy them to be very savoury bits: they have a great longing for them; and the very scent of them is so delicious, that they wish very vehemently they were not forbidden fruit. If they think not sometimes, that sure a little taste of them would do them no harm; yet they should esteem themselves far happier men than they are, if they were not tyed to such severities. In such sort do those Pilgrims hanker after their forsaken sins in their former evil courses; who hate not them, but only the mischief which they fear from them; and are not so much their enemies, as friends to ease and a quiet conscience. They would not forbear them, did not so great miseries threaten to come along with them; and their desires should not want satisfaction, were they not combated with con∣trary desires of avoiding the trouble which that will give them. Let me tell you, it is a thousand to one but they will find the means in some favourable occa∣sion to insinuate themselves into their society again. They are not banished to so great a distance, as long as they hold the place they had in their hearts; but they may be restored and have the liberty to return into their ancient embraces. This forced abstinence is so painful, and their enjoyment is so sweet, that they will live in hope of a reconciliation. The sin and the danger will not ever seem so inseparable. Their af∣fections will make them sue for a divorce, which in a Court where they are Judges may be easily obtained.

There are many Arts of blaunching the foulest mat∣ters: And virtue doth not so challenge to its self the sole priviledge of being innocent, but vice will very often pretend unto it. It knows how to put it self in∣to an harmless dress; and to pass under such borrowed titles, as shall conceal it from the knowledge of those, who are afraid of nothing but its name and its punish∣ment. Love is furnished with as many excuses, as it hath desires; and is full of wit and address to obtain its end. They cannot be long asunder who are alrea∣dy joyned in their affections; nor can any danger be so great that lyes between to divide them, but it will be surmounted by that which hath already overcome themselves. So great need there is that reason should see to the implanting of this passion which will so soon overtop it; and to provide that it be of a generous and noble stock, seeing it is like ever after to be its Lord and Master. It is in vain to object inconveniences to them, who know none so great as those of being denyed their desires. They are afraid indeed of trouble and pain, but who can tell which is the most grievous, that which they feel, or that which they fear? the present misery of wanting what they love, or the future of induring that which they hate? Doth not the former think you touch them with a quicker sense, being a present and a constant evil, and so most certain to be suffered: whereas the other be∣ing to come, may seem doubtful whether it will come or no, and when it doth come, may not cost them half that pain, which they must conflict withall to avoid it? It is a torment they find, to live in restless longings, but they hope it will not beso great to give them satis∣faction. They cannot rid themselves of the former, but they are perswaded they may soon bee eased of the

latter. After they have given their desires their full satisfaction, they doubt not with less trouble to give it to God, than they could have denied it to them∣selves. It is but repenting, they think, of the fact (a business of no great trouble, and soon over) and then God and they are both pleased; They by doing evil, and he by their sorrow for what they have done. Nay, they may seem to have done more for Gods sake than for their own, because they enjoyed but only a single pleasure themselves, whilst they have indured a double torment for him: One in denying so long to follow their desires, and another in their regret for following of them now. I hope then you are convinced, that for the continuance of your good Resolution, you ought not to permit so much as the least affection to any sin, to go along with you. It will soon, you see, march after, if you carry such a friend to it about you; and though it follow at a distance at the first, yet it will pursue you so hard at last, as suddenly to overtake you, or to speak more truly, it will bring you back again, and cause you to retreat into its quarters. You must put your fancy therefore out of conceit with it; and possess your mind with odious representations of it. You must loathe it, not as a sick man doth the meats on which he hath surfeited, but as an healthful person doth those to which he bears a particular an∣tipathy in his constitution. You must not abstain from it only as a thing forbidden, but disgust it as that which deserves to be forbidden.

You see how careful I am to establish this Resolution in your soul, because indeed very much depends upon it, which hath made me to enlarge this discourse to a length beyond that which I intended. And truly it will cost you so much pains to form it; there will so

many enemies oppose it; and perhaps when you your self shall think that it hath settled it self in your heart, there will be so much still wanting to compleat it; that I have an inclination (if it will not quite tire your pa∣tience) to add a few words more about the nature of this Resolution. You will lose no time, I am sure, by this means, nor shall I hinder you in your intended Pilgri∣mage to Jerusalem; but as the foundation well laid doth assure the superstructure, and one foot firmly planted doth make the next step more secure; so will the first part of your journey well performed, render all the rest more easie and safe to you. It is of great avail you cannot be ignorant, in all cases to begin well. There is nothing more imports to the happy or disastrous is∣sue of any affair, than what manner of entrance we make upon it: and therefore let me not seem tedious to you, if I detain you here a while before we advance further, and if I make you stand still for a time, when you have a great mind, I believe, to be going forward.

I submit my self to your wisdom, said the Pil∣grim, and entreat you not to consult my desires at all, but only my Necessity. Or if you would be sure to do what pleases me; know that you undertake an im∣possible task, unless you take the liberty to say what you think will displease me. If you lose any time, it must be by asking my leave to say your mind. I shall not think that you are guilty of making me stand still, unless you stay to obtain my consent, that you may go forward in your discourse. This will be the only grievous thing that can befall me while I am in your company; and if you have a mind to exercise my pa∣tience, it must be by suspecting me impatient of your wholesome counsels. Go on Sir, I beseech you; and give me reasons for what I am to do, but not for what

I am to hear. Tire me if you can with your Precepts, but not with any more of your Petitions to me.

You shall have no cause hereafter, replyed the Di∣rector, to complain of that matter; For a pledge of which promise you shall receive no other answer to what you have said, but only this new promise; That if I cannot serve you by the truth of what I say, yet the liberty and freedom of my speech shall make you know that I intend to do you service by revealing to you my very heart.