The Parable of the Pilgrim, Parable · Chapter 26
CAP. XXVI.
Of ſundry troubles which hapned to the Pilgrim in his Travels. And how he was delivered out of them.
A Fine Sunſhine-morning it was when he firſt went out of his doors; The Air was perfumed with the ſweet Odors which the Sun exhaled from the flowers, the birds whiſtled and ſung their Hymns to him that made that glorious Light; and there was no hedge that he paſſed by, but it welcomed him with ſome new Songs and pleaſures, nor any Traveller he met, but wiſhed him, Good ſpeed. He was ſo much pleaſed in every thing that he ſaw and heard, in all the Works of God, in his Word which he bare in his Mind, in the ſmoothneſs of the Way, in the remembrance of the Father he left, in the aſſurance he had of his Prayers and ſuch like things, that he never thought himſelf at home, till now that he had no home at all, but was ſeeking one. He could do nothing but compoſe Praiſes to God; nothing but laud the Name of Jeſus that had brought him into ſo happy a condition; and by his good will he would have made this the buſineſs of all the day to ſing a certain Ditty, the beginning and the end of which (I remember) was nothing but this, Bleſs the Lord O my Soul. Whether it was the novelty of thoſe Objects that preſented themſelves, or the Greatneſs and Beauty of them, or the good Society he met withall, or an immediate touch from that Spirit which the Good man pray'd might be his Companion, or all theſe, or any other thing, that made him ſo merry, I had not leiſure to examine; but he was never known in all his life to have expreſſed ſo much contentment in any condition, as in this Pilgrimage wherein he was ingaged to Jeruſalem.
Yet he had not paſſed many weeks in theſe rapturous joys (for they were little leſs) before he found them ſo much abated that he thought himſelf leſs happy then he imagined. The wayes were grown a little more rugged, the Heaven began to be overcaſt, and the Country through which he went was more barren and yielded not thoſe Fruits which he had before taſted; which together with other things caſt him into a damp, and procured to his ſoul more ſadneſs then he uſed to be acquainted withall. At the firſt indeed he was only moved to ſome wonderment to find ſuch an alteration, and thought that in half a dayes travel or ſuch a ſpace, he ſhould recover more pleaſant paths. But when he found contrary to his expectation that they ſtill continued uneaſie, and likewiſe chanced to ſee ſome of his old Companions who called to him at ſome diſtance and perſwaded him to go back again; he was much affrighted, and began to feel wild imaginations roving about his Soul, and ſtrange deſires of quitting a courſe which was like to prove ſo ungrateful to that part of him which was moſt concerned in the things of this World. For it was repreſented to his thoughts that the enſuing part of the rode was very dangerous, beſet with Theeves and many Difficulties, tedious and of a ſtrange length; and, beſides that he might be in a wrong way, it was very doubtful whether there was ſuch a place or no as he fancied, ſeeing no body had been there. From all which and many other conſiderations they told him it was moſt adviſeable if he conſulted his own peace to return with them to his former habitation and his ancient neighbours: who were all very ſorry to hear that he had quit his preſent poſſeſſions, in they knew not what hopes of getting better at a place which neither he nor any of his friends had ſeen.
But though this Puſh by the unexpectedneſs of it made him reel and ſtagger a little, yet he ſoon recollected himſelf: and calling to mind what he had been taught, and repeating that charm (as I may call it) which he alwayes had about him, I am nought, I have nought, &c. he found himſelf as firm in his reſolution as if he had not been at all aſſaulted. Shall I forſake my Lord (ſaid he to himſelf) ſo ſoon as ever I have begun his ſervice? Is it handſome for me to recoil, meerly from the noiſe and report of dangers? What a Coward ſhall I for ever hold my ſelf, if I run away before my enemies be in view, upon a rumour of their ſtrength and power? I will march up towards them, and at leaſt look them in the face. I will not truſt this Fame which all the world hath branded for a Lyar: Since common obſervation alſo tells us, that the Lyon is not ſo terrible as he is painted. Much more he ſpake to this effect, which moved him to a kind of indignation againſt himſelf that he ſhould ſo much as ſhrink back thus early, before ſufficient tryal, and upon ſuch ſleight information.
And yet it was not at all to his diſadvantage that he had felt this ſhock, but it rather had many happy effects upon him: like a fit or two of an Ague, which is thought rather wholeſome, then to deſerve the name of a Diſeaſe. For as it gave him more underſtanding in the nature of his way (of the ſmoothneſs of which notwithſtanding all that had been ſaid, he too much preſumed) and made him watchful becauſe he ſaw he could not paſs without ſome enemies: So it gave him ſome degree of courage, becauſe he perceived they might be overcome, and confirm'd his belief of the Wiſdom of his Director who foretold theſe troubles; and gave a proof withall of the efficacy of that Remedy which he had preſcribed, and above all revived that Joy and gladneſs in his heart which he thought began to languiſh and faint away. Full of joy he was even to an exceſs, and he ſuffered by it a kind of tranſportation; partly from the brightneſs of the Truths he had received, which yet were freſh in his mind; partly from the increaſe of his underſtanding by the experiment which he had made; but chiefly I think from the Victory which he had obtained over thoſe enemies that attacqued his Soul. For in truth, there is no greater Triumph then that which the Soul feels when it comes off a Conquerour; and applauds it ſelf for the Valour and Courage which it hath expreſſed in its conflicts. There was another thing indeed which added ſomething though not much to his joy, viz. that ded ſomething though not much to his joy, viz. that his enemies he hoped had received ſuch a foil, that he had ſent them away diſcouraged if not diſabled, from making any further attempts upon him.
But ſo mutable is our condition here, and ſo many are our enemies, that he had not travelled many dayes after this Triumph, before he was arreſted with a new trouble to exerciſe his Wiſdom and Patience. His ſoul which juſt now was ready to leap out of his body, he felt to ſink ſo low, that it was as if he had no ſoul at all. His ſpirits not only began to flagg and hang down their heads; but were grown quite faint and weary, as if they meant to ſwoon away. Which was partly occaſioned by his going too faſt, and taking over-long Journeys; and partly by a very hot day, when the Sun beat very ſtrongly upon his head; and partly by the very violence of his joyes which ſtirred his ſpirits ſo much, that in the agitation they flew away; and partly by letting ſlip two or three of thoſe Inſtructions which had been left with him which ſhould have been a Cordial to him, but were as impoſſible he found to be by any means recalled, as it was to bring back his tyred ſpirits which were flown from him. Very melancholly and ſad he now began to be, and the more becauſe he had been ſo joyful. O how deſolate (ſaid he within himſelf) is this place into which I am faln! I am forſaken ſure of God, or elſe I that was ſo high yeſterday, ſhould never have ſunk into this pit, which is next door to the dwelling of damned ſpirits. Was ever any man in ſuch a deplorable eſtate? Was there ever any bereaved thus of all his comforts which ſhould ſweeten his way when he hath no other company? Oh Who, will reſtore unto me the dayes that are paſt? Who can call back but the joyes of yeſterday into my boſome? What are thoſe ſins that have caſt me into the diſpleaſure of my Lord? Or, What ſhall I do to regain his favour, which I would purchaſe at any rate, though I dyed the next moment? Thus he lay many dayes, ſometimes bewailing his former affrightment, which he ſuſpected might deſerve this deſertion (as he was apt to call it) ſometimes complaining that he could not find the cauſe, and ſo could not be cured; ſometimes reflecting on the times of joy which were gone; and ſometimes taking a view of his miſery, which made him but the more deeply miſerable. And, which was worſt of all, he kept his bed all this time, and ſtirred not a foot in his Journey; being indeed ſo ill, that he deſpaired of life.
But ſee how the Providence of God watches for an opportune ſeaſon to do us a kindneſs. When he was in the greateſt torture that he had felt all the time of this Agony, there came an unexpected Letter to his hands from his beloved Father, which was to this effect.
My friend (for ſo I cannot but call you, ſince you expreſs ſuch love to me) Theſe are to let you know, that though I am abſent from you, yet I follow you with my thoughts and good wiſhes, which attend you in all your motions. I am ſo far from being forgetful of my promiſe, that I am much better, I aſſure you, than my word. You deſired me to pray for you, and ſo I do. But I cannot content my ſelf with that, unleſs you, as well as God, know that I have a remembrance of you. That is the very reaſon of my ſending this Paper after you; that it may be a token how regardful I am of your concerns, and ſollicitous about your welfare. So ſollicitous, that having enjoyed ſome good thoughts this morning, I could not but impart them unto you, becauſe I fancied they would prove upon ſome occaſion or other very uſeful to you. They are a Meditation upon one of the Fſalms of David, where he bids his Soul not to be diſquieted, but to hope in God as the health of his countenance and his God: and they are infolded in a diſtinct Paper within the boſome of this Letter, becauſe they were too long to be inſerted in the body of it.
Farewell.
Upon the very firſt receipt of this Letter, before he had broke it up, his pale cheeks began to be ſtreaked with a little blood, as a prognoſtick of his recovery to health again. But when he opened it, and read the kind expreſſions of the Love of his Friend, one might ſee how the ſpirits crept up as he went along, out of the Center whither they were retired: In ſo much that the light danced in his eyes, yea leaped out as if it meant to kiſs thoſe lines which now ſaluted them. But then, as ſoon as he arrived at the Meditation it ſelf, and had carefully peruſed all the parts of it; his face ſhined like an Angel, and one would have thought he had not been the man that was ſo lately dejected. For it was ſo pat to his preſent condition, and ſo exactly ſuted to the neceſſities under which he laboured, that it ſeemed as if it had been indicted by God, and not by his Friend. There he found a diſcourſe of the Nature of Joy, of the cauſes of its decay, of the Intereſs that our Animal Spirits have in it, of the way to recover it, and the means to be content without it, and above all, of the Reſignation of our ſelves to the Will of God, to ſerve him chearfully without thoſe ſenſible pleaſures, as well as in their company. And not to name other things which were more fully debated between them afterward; theſe now rehearſed were ſo fully opened, that he was partly amazed, and partly elevated to the height of his Joyes again, when he thought that God had put it into the heart of the Father to ſend at this time a Letter of ſuch comfortable import unto him. I ſee, ſaid the Pilgrim, that not my Friend only, but Jeſus alſo is mindful of me. I ſee both that He prayes for me, and that Heaven likewiſe hears thoſe Prayers. It would be an unſufferable wrong to my Bleſſed Saviour, ſhould I hereafter think my ſoul forſaken of him. Nay, it will be an ill requital of the favour he hath now done me; ſhould I not reſume my ancient joyfulneſs again. And therefore be no longer diſquieted O my Soul, be not caſt down within me. It is not in vain to hope in God, but in that very hope thou mayeſt be joyful: and therefore in the fruition of thy expectations, O how greatly oughteſt thou to rejoyce.Pſa. 97.11 Light is ſown for the righteous, and joy for the upright in heart. Pſa. 9.10They that know thy Name will put their truſt in thee, for thou Lord haſt not forſaken them that ſeek thee. And therefore I cannot but ſay, Wait on the Lord, Pſa. 27.14be of courage, and he ſhall ſtrengthen thy heart: Wait, Pſa. 13.6I ſay, on the Lord. I will ſing unto the Lord, becauſe he hath dealt bountifully with me. Yea I will hope continually, Pſa. 71.14and will yet praiſe him more and more.
Many other the like effuſions of his heart, one might then have heard, and they laſted ſo many dayes, that they became inſtrumental to the redeeming much of that time which had been loſt in fruitleſs complaints upon his bed. He did not go ſo faſt as he was wont, but he went much further than before in the ſame number of hours. His Joyes were not ſo violent, but they became more ſweet, and they grew more equal. He could not recover yet the Memory of ſome things he had received; but this he better underſtood, that he muſt deſire nought but Jeſus. He was not ſo full of heat, but his light was more reſplendent. He did not expect now to be alwayes in the ſame temper, yet he was confident he ſhould never more ſuſpect the Love of his Saviour. He perceived that he could not ever retain the ſame Joyes, yet he learnt withall, that the way to have them ſooner reſtored, was not to fret for want of them.
But though in this condition he made a great progreſs his way towards the Holy City of God; yet the light which was in his mind, did not caſt ſuch a ſplendour about his ſoul, but that one day he ſuffered ſome obſcurity. The occaſion of it was a cloudy thought which came over his underſtanding, ſuggeſting to him; That he did not ſerve God purely enough, becauſe his eye was too much upon Jeruſalem. For it had been commonly received for a Truth among ſome perſons whom he had formerly converſed withall, That we muſt obey God out of meer Love to him, without any hope of rewards at all. This, you will ſay, was a ſtrange conceit, and it had as ſtrange a cure. For it pleaſed God, that he opening a Book which he carried along with him, the next morning after theſe thoughts troubled him; the firſt thing that he caſt his eye upon was this paſſage in a certain Chapter of it, That Moſes had reſpect to the recompence of reward. Heb. 11.29You cannot think how much it ſurpriſed him, that he ſhould light upon theſe words rather than any other, without his choice or ſo much as a deſign to receive ſatisfaction in this particular. And yet that which I am next to relate was more wonderful in his eyes, and made him ſtand in a greater aſtoniſhment at the goodneſs of God towards him. For it being ſuggeſted to him from the memory of ſome fragments of certain Sermons which he once heard, That Moſes and thoſe under the Law who were but Bondmen, might have reſpect to Rewards, but that it did not become thoſe who had the Spirit of Adoption, to be ſo Mercenary; and he being a little perplexed with this trifling Objection; It happened, that looking down upon the ſame page of his Book again, his eye fell directly upon the ſecond Verſe of the next Chapter, which told him, That Jeſus endured the Croſs for the Joy that was ſet before him. The firſt glance which he had of this place, was like a Beam of the Sun in his eye, which immediately diſpelled all his darkneſs, and made his ſoul flaſh out in ſuch expreſſions as theſe. Who are theſe men that are wiſer than Jeſus? What mean theſe dreamers to fancy themſelves above that, which was not below our Saviour? Or how came they to be ſo proud as to deſpiſe the Promiſes of God, and think they ſtand in no need at all of them? On, my ſoul, go on, and be not ſtopt a minute longer by this ſcruple. Fix thine eyes upon Jeruſalem, and let thine heart be raviſhed with it; for the Mediatour of the ſecond Covenant, as well as of the firſt had a reſpect unto it.
After he had hit ſo luckily on theſe two paſſages which lay ſo near together, a great many more of the ſame kind preſented themſelves inſtantly to his mind: not much unlike the Beams of the Sun, which having once torn a cloud in ſunder, break forth more and more, till the whole body of that great light appear to us. And this likewiſe raiſed his ſpirits unto ſome further degree of chearfulneſs, when he thought how our Lord ſtill provided for his relief, and took the pains to pull the ſmalleſt Thorn that troubled him out of his feet. And yet this could not hinder but that they were too much dejected a little after by a company of other petty thoughts, which, like ſo many importune Flyes, were alwayes buzzing this new fancy in his ears; That he did not directly intend the glory and honour of Jeſus in all his Actions. He conſidered indeed with himſelf, that he endeavoured to do well, and that he he loved to do ſo, and that he lookt upon it as the very Life of God; but yet he thought he did not ſo actually reſpect him in every particular motion as his duty required. Now here it fell out very happily, and not without a Divine Providence, as he thought, that one night being in a dream, he imagined he ſaw one coming to him, and whiſper this ſentence in his ear, which of a long time he had not read,Rev. 19.9 They repented not, to give him Glory. Whereupon ſtarting ſuddenly out of his ſleep, as if ſome good Genius had awakened him, and given him a new mind, he preſently began to tell himſelf, that when he firſt repented, and undertook this New Life, he gave Glory to God: and that by every ſtep he took in this courſe of Repentance (i. e. amending of himſelf) he did actually honour him, and more materially than any other way gloriſie his name: For this is a conſtant acknowledgement of him, a minutely confeſſion that we are fools, and he is wiſe; that our will is nought, and his is good; that he is our Lord, and we his Subjects; and that after all our ſearch we find our Happineſs to lye in him alone, and in ſeparation from him, the beſt condition in the world will leave us miſerable. And he had not long pondered upon theſe things with much ſatisfaction, before thoſe words of the Pſalmiſt came into his mind, He that offereth praiſe, glorifieth me, Pſal. 50.21and to him that ordereth his converſation aright, will I ſhew the Salvation of God. Which made him fall into the praiſes of God, and to reſolve that he would do ſo every day, and early deſign all the imployments of it to his ſervice: concluding, that whilſt he held this courſe, and ordered his wayes aright, he exalted God in the world; by lifting up his Will into a preheminence and command over his own, & ſubjecting himſelf unto it both as moſt ſupreme, and alſo wiſe and good. And after a great many thoughts of this nature, at laſt he made a ſhort reflection upon the perſon who had made him this viſit in the night. And when he remembred that he fancied it was his Friend who came to his Bed-ſide, he had a new pleaſure to think of the benefits of Sleep. The praiſes of which he could not upon this occaſion forbear, though at certain times he wiſhed his thoughts might never be intermitted by it. What an heavenly power (ſaid he) is this, for ſo I am ready to call it? how much am I beholden to it for its ſilent refreſhments? That which uſeth to part the deareſt friends, hath now brought them together. That which ſeparateth thoſe who touch each other, hath made thoſe near who are far aſunder. O Divine Gift! O beloved Reſt which God beſtows upon us! How great are theſe charms which lock our doors to all the World and now have opened them to my friend? How much better are theſe dreams then many of my waking thoughts? How much rather had I be in the arms of the brother of death, then in the feeble injoyments of many parts of my life? I am content juſt now to be reſtored to his embraces, if my Friend will but meet me there again in this manner. At leaſt I hope I may conclude that when we are Dead indeed, he will not fail to meet me; whoſe Image finds me out when I am in the Images of death.