The Husbandmans Companion, Meditation 43
Upon the pleaſures of a garden.
43. Med.
BEing in a well contrived, well-furniſhed, well-ordered garden, where there was what nature, or art could beſtow upon it, various well-coloured, well-ſented flowers, which chequered the knots, and delighted both the ſight and ſmell, with various ſorts of herbs, and vegetables, as well phyſicall as otherwiſe, together with curious walks, and ſhady bowers, and other curious contrivances, delightful delicacies and various curioſities, that it ſeemed to me an earthly paradice, a place of pelights and pleaſures, which when I had viewed, and for a while ſolaced my ſelf in it, I took much pleaſure in it, and could contentedly have ſpent my time there; my affections were much tickled with it, and grew warm upon it, and for a while I delighted my ſelf in it, but at laſt I began to call my ſelf to an accompt, and to check my ſelf for it, with ſuch conſiderations as theſe; oh my ſoul, what art thou doing, or whether art thou going? art thou in heaven, or upon the earth, that thou art taking up thy ſtation? art thou like Shimei in ſeeking a ſervant? doſt thou loſe thy ſelf? wilt thou by admiring the gift, neglect the giver, or court the maid before the miſtreſs? and take up with a handful of muck, for a handful of angels? is this a ſuitable portion for thee, or rather a ſuitable match for the ſoul, that thou art eſpouſing thy ſelf to it, and letting out thy affections upon it? will this ſerve thy turn, or make thee happy? or will it endure to eternity? alas! it will not; when winter comes, where are then thy delights? nay, when night comes, it deprives thee of thy pleaſure, yea, every ſhower of rain, puts thee on to ſeek another happineſs, and a better ſhelter and ſecurity: what then will become of thee at death or judgment, if thou haſt no better a refuge? what good can theſe do thee in heaven or in hell? theſe things are not laſting, thou ſeeſt the flowers ripe at noon, and withered by night, like Jonah's gourd, grow up in a night, and wither in a night, and have a worm breed in them, which will eat out their heart; they are like the bee, they have honey in the mouth, and a ſting in the tail; and not only vanity, but vexation of ſpirit is writ upon them: will a handful of flowers revive a dying man, or comfort a languiſhing ſoul? when the earth and all the works therein are burnt up, where will be thy happineſs then? why then wilt thou moil and toil, and cark and care for ſuch vanities that never will make thee ſatisfaction? why wilt thou ſet thine eyes upon that which is not? if thou wilt take pains, let it be in a more fruitful ſoil, where thou maiſt expect a better crop; ſpend not thy money for that which is not bread, nor thy labour for that which ſatisfies not; theſe cannot ſatisfy, and if they did, cannot laſt long, theſe are but ſwallow-comforts, they hide their heads in the winter, the graſs will ſoon wither, the flowers will ſoon fade, and thy own life is no more certain, and what good will theſe do the ſoul? ſome poor vaniſhing delights they yield, for an hour or two, and then it is over, but there are more ſatisfying pleaſures, more durable delights to be had, then theſe, why are they then neglected? theſe, like ſwallow-friends, forſake when winter comes, when there is moſt need, or like Phyſitians leave a man when he is dying, or like the devil with the witch, tempt a while, and then forſake her, when ſhe is in the moſt danger; If a ſmall ſpot of earth ſeem ſo delightful, what is heaven, and thoſe manſions of glory provided for glorified Saints? if the creature be ſo glorious, what is the Creator, who infuſed ſuch a beauty and vertue in it? if a flower be ſo ſweet, what is the roſe of ſharon and the lilly of the valley? theſe things delight us for a moment, but one day will make us weary of them, eſpecially if there be not the addition of meat, and drink, and ſleep, and lodging, of health, and ſtrength, and other neceſſaries; but in heaven is nothing wanting that is neceſſary, delightful or deſirable; no creature-comforts there are needful, but God is better a thouſand times then all the comforts the whole earth affords; oh my ſoul, labour after the ſubſtance, not the ſhadow; after Chriſt and a title to glory; there are reall pleaſures to be had, rivers of pleaſure at his right hand for evermore; ſcorn then to be put off with ſuch poor things, or to let out thy affections upon ſuch vanities, or to let them grovel upon the ground: wilt thou ſuffer thy eyes to be dazled with a few flowers when thou maiſt behold the ſun, the moon, and ſtars; thoſe glorious lamps and beauty-ſpots of heaven; theſe are greater beauties, thoſe beautify only the porch: how beautiful then is the palace, the throne, nay, the king himſelf? Theſe flowers thou now admireſt may for ought thou knoweſt be cropt, and made uſe of for thy funeral, for thy body is as fading, and thy life as uncertain as they are; a few days will …ther make them uncapable of pleaſing thee, or thee uncapable of praiſing them: this uſe thou maiſt make of this pleaſing object, be as careful of thy ſoul, as the gardiner is of this plot of ground, let neither thorn nor thiſtle, briar nor weed of ſin, thrive there, ſupply what is wanting, root out what is ſuperfluous, order what is diſordered, and then it is a happy time thou madeſt this Obſervation: oh my God, what a poor pitiful fooliſh wretch am I, thus to doat upon vanities; Lord, wean my affections from the world, and keep them cloſe to thy ſelf.