The Parable of the Pilgrim, Parable · Chapter 25
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 fancy, 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 courteſie that is left in my power, is to keep you no longer from doing it your ſelf. Whereupon, after he had exhorted 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 likewiſe 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 reverence, love and obedience to your commands, than if I was the iſſue of your body. I have heard your diſcourſe 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 Golden 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 deſire nothing but to be what Jeſus would have me, and to be where Jeſus, you ſay, will bring me. O thou enemy 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 oppoſe all thy deſires. I ſet my ſelf here in open defiance to thee; I will have no peace with thee for one moment; 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 perpetually, 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 reſolved 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 prepared 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 longer 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. Farewell 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 company. For you are my Father, my Oracle, a Meſſenger 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 already 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 conduct you to that happy place, the Heavenly Jeruſalem, 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 very 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 reſolution, and ſay in the words (I hope in the Spirit alſo) of Jeſus, Not my will, O Lord, but thy Will be done. OnelyOnly 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 gratification 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 therefore 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 recommending 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 alwayes linkt together by the chains of this pleaſing converſation, and the delight which he perceived began to ſpring up in him by the interchanging ſo many expreſſions of their mutual Love. But after he had aſſured 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 reflect 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 complained Plained of the imperfections of this ſtate and the miſeries 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 conſtant 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 deſires 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 remember 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 Reſolution, 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 ingaged, 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 diſcompoſure 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 Pilgrimage. I am nought, I have nought, I deſire nought but to be with Jeſus at Jeruſalem.