The Parable of the Pilgrim, Parable · Chapter 8
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 becauſe 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 given 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 perſwade 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 willingneſs to make you happy, and to afford you ſufficient means to attain your end. For you will not be able to ſtir a foot in your way, if you bear any jealouſies about you that God may not favour your undertaking, 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 many years ago: but let me tell you, that if you cheriſh not good thoughts of God in your mind, all your Religion will degenerate into this ſpurious and baſeborn 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 appears in a dreſs ſo horrible to them? And yet worſhip him they muſt for fear of incurring his diſpleaſure, 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 conſequence 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 choſen, 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, tyrannical 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 ſtuddy 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 whereby 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 penurious thoughts of God, that they ſhrivel up mens hearts too, and make them needy and penurious in the expreſſions 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 underſtanding 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 retain 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 greateſt 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 phlegmatick 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 obſequious to his will in all things.
And having effected this, then ſearch your Conſcience 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 buſie, may either not eſpy them, or let them paſs for no offences. Theſe muſt all be purged out and left behind, 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 confeſſion: 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 attended 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 difficult 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 remain. For this you know undid no leſs than ſix hundred 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 remembrance 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 injoyments, 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 favourable 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 ſalutes 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 contrary 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 occaſion 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 affections 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 matters: 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 into 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 puniſhment. 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 already 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 being 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 ſatisfaction. 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 themſelves. 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 antipathy 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 patience) 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 Pilgrimage 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 iſſue 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 Pilgrim, 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 impoſſible 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 patience, 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 Director, 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.