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

CAP. XXV.

How the Pilgrim and his Guide parted. And with what a brave Resolution he began his Journey.

WHen the Good Father (for so we will hereafter call him) had said those words with some other to the same effect; he told him, that now he thought it would be an injurious act to hinder him any longer by his discourses, from going to prove the truth of what had been said. If I am a Mercury (continued he with a little smile) as you have been pleased to fan∣cy, I may have leave to make use of my wings and fly away. There remains nothing now to be done, but that which I cannot do for you; and the greatest cour∣tesie that is left in my power, is to keep you no longer from doing it your self. Whereupon, after he had ex∣horted him briefly to be strong in the Grace of Jesus Christ, and to endure hardship as a good Souldier of his, He bade him heartily farewel, and put himself into a posture of departing. But the Pilgrim being sorely afflicted within himself at this news, suddenly caught hold of his Garment which gently moved towards him as he turned about; and in a contest between joy and grief, uttered these words, as well as those passions would give him leave. Let me intreat you, Dear Sir, to prolong your patience so far, as before you go away to receive my thanks for the good Directions you have furnished me withall; and to give your Blessing like∣wise

upon a poor heart that is resolved by the help of Heaven instantly to set forth in this way which you have described. If I had been born your Son, I could not have thought my obligations greater to you, than now I feel them. Nay, I shall take the liberty to say, That I stand more indebted to your Piety, than I do to Nature. For fancy oft-times makes Parents, but it is only reason, truth and goodness which have tyed my heart to you. And therefore since I am the issue of your mind, you may justly expect a greater reve∣rence, love and obedience to your commands, than if I was the issue of your body. I have heard your dis∣course Sir, with great attention; I have markt every particular passage of it with diligence and care; and such a gust hath every word given me which dropt from your mouth, that it hath seemed to me not many minutes long. It is not to be expressed how your Gol∣den Sentence pleaseth me, which you have put into my mouth. I am resolved to go along this Journey chaunting it continually, with no less delight than the Birds are wont to do their Melodies. Nay, I cannot forbear (and be not weary, I beseech you Sir, if I hold you longer than I thought) but I must here before you renounce my own proper will, and protest that I de∣sire nothing but to be what Jesus would have me, and to be where Jesus, you say, will bring me. O thou ene∣my of God! my self-will, that hast reigned so long, come down from thy Throne. I proclaim War against thee, and am resolved from this day forward to op∣pose all thy desires. I set my self here in open defiance to thee; I will have no peace with thee for one mo∣ment; because thou-art no friend of God, to whom I now deliver my self. Let him be pleased to come and reign in my heart, for I am absolutely his. May it be

his will to accept of a poor Slave, that devotes all his powers to his service. This I will beg of him perpe∣tually, that he would vouchsafe to let me know what his will is; and that shall be my Guide, though my own will be never so desirous to hold a contrary course. Let it pain me, or let it please me, I am resol∣ved to bind my self fast to God; that he may carry me not whither I would, but whither himself thinks good. Say the word, O my God, and it is enough: I am pre∣pared to be conducted by thee. Lead me whither thou wilt, O thou blessed Providence; thou shalt have a faithful follower of thy wise Counsels. I am no lon∣ger affraid of any dangers. Those terrible Monsters, Poverty, Reproach, and all the rest, do strike no dread at all into me. Farewell offices and honours, if you must be the recompence of crimes. Farewell my friends, if I must be the companion of your sins. Fare∣well all the world, if it must be the price of my soul. But as for you Sir, I am loath to bid you farewell. I must be snatched, rather than go from your compa∣ny. For you are my Father, my Oracle, a Messen∣ger sent from God to bring me to him. And if you will go to Heaven without me, I pray you once more to receive my acknowledgements, which testifie that I would thank you if I were able, both for your former Directions, and for this Patience.

Truly (replyed the Father) I think my self rather obliged to thank you most heartily that you would come to me, and being come, that you would hear me not only with Patience, but Acceptance. For there is nothing, I am so greedy of, as to meet with a soul that is sincerely desirous to know the way to Jerusalem; neither do I know any pleasure equal

to that of pouring out my heart into such thirsty minds, unless it be this of seeing them rellish those Waters of Life which flow from Wisdome's lips. And that same Jesus who, I see, hath touched your heart al∣ready with his Love, and excited you to take this Journey; give you his Blessing, and send his Spirit the Comforter to accompany you in your travels, and assign you to some good Angel of his that may con∣duct you to that happy place, the Heavenly Jerusa∣lem, where he lives. In the way to which I am so desirous you should enter, that I will not be your hinderance by any further discourses; but shall be ve∣ry glad, as I told you, to find you in safety arrived there, where we shall never part more, nor have any cause to say this sad word, Farewell.

Must I part then with you, said the Pilgrim?—Here he made a pause, and tears spoke the rest of his mind: for I could hear never a word he said, till after a great many sighs hee thus proceeded: Well, let it be so. It is part of my duty, you say, to be contented with every thing. And therefore I now freely resume my former resolu∣tion, and say in the words (I hope in the Spirit al∣so) of Jesus, Not my will, O Lord, but thy Will be done. Onely let me again renew my desires that you would accompany me ever with your good Prayers, for I hope it is not too great a grati∣fication of my self to be pleased in your friendship, and in the belief that you remember me: Nor will it be accounted a crime that I am not willing to be left out of your thoughts, especially when they are addressed in devout supplications to Jesus. I have been long perswaded that I use to prosper the better in all my

designes for the good wishes of pious persons: and it hath been some support to me also when I have had no great store of good desires in my own heart, or been but cold in those I had, to think that the concerns of my soul were presented to God by some Friend or other, in their more fervent Devotions. And there∣fore it will be at the most but a pardonable error, if I do with some Passion beg the prayers of such a person as you are, and if I comfort my self sometimes with the interess I have in you and them. Especially since I see by your charitable instructions, and the patience you have used towards me, that you have an heart so full of Love and Goodness, that it will neither suffer you to remember me coldly, nor to be weary in recommend∣ing me to the Grace of God.

The Father would not make any long reply to these words, for fear they should never break off, but be al∣wayes linkt together by the chains of this pleasing con∣versation, and the delight which he perceived began to spring up in him by the interchanging so many ex∣pressions of their mutual Love. But after he had assu∣red him by a solemn promise that he would never fail to commend him to the love and care of Jesus, they took their leave one of the other, not without a great many embraces, and hearty wishes to see each other again in peace at Jerusalem.

You may be sure the Pilgrim could not but often re∣flect with a sad heart upon this dear person whose counsels he carried along with him in his breast. And while the image of him was so fresh in his mind, it did not a little wound him that he could enjoy no more then that shaddow of his friend. Sometimes he com∣plained

Plained of the imperfections of this state and the mi∣series of the world, that will not let those who love most, be most together. Sometimes he blamed his own unworthiness, which made such a felicity as the con∣stant company of so good a man too great for him to possess. Sometimes he called him back and wished in his heart that he would return. And by and by he was ready to follow after him and thought he could fly presently into his embraces; so strong were the de∣sires he felt of being with him. But in the midst of these restless thoughts which for a little space were tossed up and down in his mind; It pleased God to re∣member him of the Vow he had made of his will to him. He put him in mind that he stood still all this while, though he was in so great an agitation, and that to follow his Friend would be to go back from his Re∣solution, and that he had more then the image of his body to bear him company, there being left behind the very picture of his soul described in those Directions which he had bestowed upon him. Such thoughts as these put away that fit of passion wherein he was in∣gaged, and caused the qualm that went over his heart to vanish. So that now loosned from all the world (as he thought) he blessed himself, and without any dis∣composure took his staff in his hand and said: From this moment farewell all my former enjoyments; Do not trouble me; for I now begin my designed Pilgri∣mage. I am nought, I have nought, I desire nought but to be with Jesus at Jerusalem.