The Parable of the Pilgrim, Parable · Chapter 36
CAP. XXXVI.
How the Pilgrim had a fair ſight of the heavenly Jeruſalem: and what inſued thereupon. How eaſie it is by a true and paſſion Friendſhip to learn the greateſt Love to God. And that he is to be ſtudied and admired in all his Creatures, as well as in his Son Chriſt.
THE young man was glad to hear him ſpeak theſe words becauſe they lookt like a concluſion. And therefore pulling him by the ſleeve, he pray'd him not to wait for their anſwer, but leave them to muſe of what he had repreſented ſo plainly to their minds. And I wiſh ſaid he (turning towards them) that if you regard not his diſcourſe, there was ſome ſuch perſon here as St. Gregory to whom you bear a reverence, that he might tell you what he thought of your intended Pilgrimages to Rome, Loretto, and ſuch like places. No doubt he would inveigh more ſharply againſt them, then thoſe into Palaeſtine. Think I beſeech you upon his words, and if you be not pleaſed to go along with us; yet for bear at leaſt theſe needleſs though expenſive journies, and reſerve your money for ſome uſes that will turn to a better account. And ſo having civilly taken their leaves of each other, He and his Guide held on their way to that Holy place where Jeſus himſelf now reſides. Several things they diſcourſed of, and many good things they did as they went along; till at laſt having gained the top of an high hill (which without ſome difficulty could not be climbed) they met with a knot of more excellent perſons, who recompenſed for the tediouſneſs of that company into which they had lately faln. The Spectacle which preſented it ſelf was no leſs wonderful then it was new. For there they beheld ſundry Pilgrims like themſelves who had placed their bodies, though in ſeveral poſtures, as if they never meant to ſtir from that place; unleſs it was to be carried directly up to Heaven. Some of them were faln upon their knees; and with their hands upon their breaſts, their eyes elevated toward the skies, and a very ſmiling countenance, they ſeemed not ſo much to aſk as to poſſeſs ſomething that they dearly loved, and for which they rendred thanks to God. Others of them ſtood gazing upon their tip-toes; with their mouths open and their eyes ſo fixed, as if their Souls were gone half way out of their bodies to fetch in ſomething which they hungred to receive. And others alſo ſtretched out their arms to ſuch a length, as if either they ſaw that thing coming to them; or elſe they thought them to be wings whereby they could fly to that which they lookt ſo greedily upon. For this they obſerved after a careful view of them, that every one directed his eyes the ſame way; as if they waited for the very ſame good to deſcend into their embraces. And therefore theſe two perſons being not ſo much ſtartled as raviſhed at this ſtrange ſight, thought it was beſt for them to do ſo too; and to try if they could make any diſcovery of that which attracted all theſe eyes and hearts unto it. And they had not done ſo very long, but by the advantage of this Mountain, and the clearneſs of the air, and the ſteadineſs of their eyes, and the quiet and ſilence wherein they all were; they had a very fair proſpect of the Heavenly Jeruſalem.
Now (you may be ſure) our Pilgrims heart skipt for joy; and he began to bleſs the happy day which brought him hither, vowing that it ſhould be markt in his Calender for an Holy-day as long as he lived. For he was not only aſſured hereby that there was ſuch a place, but he diſcovered ſomething of the felicities of it; which here met him with a delitious entertainment. It did not ſeem to be ſituate in a Region like to any that he had as yet beheld; but in one ſo clear and pure that the ſky is but a ſmoky vapour in compare with it. There was no cloud that durſt be ſo bold as to come within ſight of it; nor was there any darkneſs that could approach to ſully its beauty. But as there was a perpetual ſerenity about it, ſo an everlaſting day was one of the principal ornaments of it. The rayes of the Sun he perceived never hid themſelvs from it; if he judged aright when by the glittering of the place he thought it all guilded with his beams. But ſometimes he conceited that the City was all built of ſuch pretious ſtones; that they ſupplyed the place of the Sun, by thoſe ſtreams of light which iſſued forth from every one of them. Nay the very garments of the Inhabitants (which he could diſcern a little) were ſo gliſtering that they ſeemed able of themſelves to create a continual day to thoſe that wore them. He beheld alſo ſome winged people (for ſuch are they that dwell there) come flying from one of the gates of the City very ſpeedily towards him; who told him that they accompanied him in his journy though he did not ſee them: and that they had been at Jeruſalem to carry news of his travels thither, and to relate the conſtancy and reſolvedneſs of his mind in this purpoſe: and that they were ſent back again not only to wait upon him, but to let him know that the Lord of the place did wait very paſſionately for his arrival, and would be exceeding glad in ſafety to receive him.
Into what an ecſtaſie he was caſt by this relation, eſpecially when he heard a little whiſpering noiſe (for it was no more) of the Muſick and the melodious Airs which thoſe Choriſters of Heaven make; it is altogether needleſs to tell you. His Soul was almoſt allured out of his body by this ſight; and was held in by ſo very ſmall a thred, that two or three ſharp thoughts more of that happy place, would have cut in two that ſlender tye. He verily thought that this was Piſgah, and that he was gone up to dye there. And when he ſaw that he muſt ſtill live yet he could not but ſay to his Guide, Let us build us a Tabernacle or two in this place; for it is good to be here, untill thoſe winged Miniſters ſhall be at leiſure to come and fetch us away to Heaven. Surely, ſaid he, it cannot be long before they do us that favour. Let us ſit ſtill a while and ſee if our longing ſouls in the poſture wherein they have been, cannot invite them to give us ſatisfaction and tranſport us thither. But his Director (to whom he ever uſed to hearken) told him that this was a thing which a man might rather fancy then deſire. For it could not be permitted that they ſhould ſit alwayes gazing there; neither was there any hopes of arriving at the deſired place, unleſs by their own diligence in ſuch things as God would have them employed, they ſtill indeavoured to creep nearer and nearer unto it. And me-thinks, added he, it ſhould be ſufficient to content you that the reſt of your way carries the face of ſuch pleaſure, and promiſes ſo much eaſe and facility to you in your paſſage; as you will diſcern if it pleaſe you but a little to turn your eyes from your Journeys end, to behold the path that leads you to it.
With that the young mans eyes began to fall a little from thoſe lofty places whereon they had been fixed; and to caſt themſelves upon the ground which lay below under his feet, in which he was at preſent to make his abode. But he did not loſe his pleaſure by taking his eyes off from Jeruſalem; for the rode which lay thither appeared now ſo plain, ſo fair and ſmooth, ſo free from bryers and thorns, and all that had moleſted and galled him before, that it proved the beginning of Heaven to him. The Earth he ſaw was every where loadned with ſo much Plenty; that nothing troubled him but only that he could not ſee Travellers enough to gather it. On every ſide of him there were ſo many beautiful flowers; that he could ſcarce tell whoſe invitation to accept, when they ſeemed to deſire to be pluckt by his hands. The very ſtones had loſt the hardneſs and roughneſs of their nature; and did ſoften and ſmooth themſelves when the feet of Pilgrims came to oppreſs them. And all the way likewiſe was ſo quiet and ſtill, that if a leaf wagged; it was by the ſweet breath of thoſe Muſicians which ſate among the Branches. One could not ſpeak ſo much as a word, but an Eccho from the Vault of Heaven would repeat it; as if ſhe had a great deſire to learn, or was much in love with that language. Yea all the Mountains which they were ſtill to climb, ſeemed of ſo eaſie aſcent; that they differed nothing from the plain ground. And the very Trees which grew upon them were ſo ſtraight and tall; that they ſeemed to lift up themſelves above the clouds to beg the Heavenly Bodies, that they would ſend their pure and unſtained influences on them before they had loſt any thing of their innocence, and were defiled by their paſſage thorow our unwholeſome Air to the boſome of the Earth. Many a Mile one might paſs thorow a Forreſt of nothing but Myrtles and Lawrels; under the ſhade of which a Traveller might ſweetly repoſe himſelf, and dream that he ſaw the Crowns and Garlands which were wreathing for him in Jeruſalem. Every Wood alſo (of which ſome ſtages wholly conſiſted) appeared like a goodly Orchard; where an infinite Variety of lovely fruit ſaluted them that paſſed thorow it. And though the courteous Apples, with all the reſt, ſeemed to bow themſelves to kiſs the Pilgrims hands; yet by their fragrancy one would judge that they were not of a meer terreſtrial growth; but fed by ſome inviſible roots above, from which they derived the refined nouriſhment of coeleſtial Juices. From the ſurpluſage of which alſo it was (as one would be tempted to think) that the Balm and all other Aromatick Liquors dropped; which had no other uſe in that place but to annoint the heads of them whom thoſe Trees overſhadowed. In ſhort, this way that he had now to paſs, was called by ſome Poetical fancies the Laughter and Smile of Nature; by others a Monopoly of Pleaſure; by others a World of Sweets that live in fair community together, neither envying nor contemning one the other, but contributing every one to the beauty and delight of the whole. But none of theſe names gave him any ſatisfaction, nor could it pleaſe him to hear it called any thing elſe; than the Entrance of the Paradiſe above. And indeed when he came to taſte of the fruit, he could not but conclude that he eat of the Tree of Life in the midſt of the Garden of God; and when he felt thoſe diſtillations on his head, he could think of nothing elſe but the Ʋnction from above. All the things in this deſcription were but ſo many Pictures whereby his fancy repreſented to him the happineſs of that life which hereafter he hoped to lead; wherein he thought to find every thing to his deſire. The difficulties of his Journey ſeemed now to be overcome; and every ſtep he ſaw would bring him to a new pleaſure. There was nothing to be done, but what promiſed to gratifie him with repeated joyes, and to reward his labours with abundance of content in the doing of it. And there was nothing to be ſuffered which threatned any harm; but ſeemed to have loſt it prickles and thorns, and to court men into its embraces. Now he thought he ſhould be ſo happy as to live more above, and hold a conſtant communication with Heaven. He expected to ſurmount the clouds wherein he had been wrapped, and to live in a purer light, and enjoy a greater ſerenity of mind. Now he hoped to paſs his time in ſublimer Meditations; in a ſteadier Faith, in a more ardent Love; in more comfortable Expectations; in quicker taſts of the good things to come; and ſo in more perfect Peace and Joy in the Holy Ghoſt. In ſhort, he diſcovered on all ſides both preſent ſatisfactions, and future hopes; with larger Aſſurances alſo that they would not make him aſhamed.
Being thus then ſpurred by the admonitions of his Friend, and the invitations of the Way, on he went again (together with the happy Companion of his Travels) ſometimes caſting his eye upon Jeruſalem, and ſometimes upon his Way, which now became more eaſie and more delightful to him than ever before. But having deſcended a little from the Head of that lofty Hill where they had ſtayed thus long; the young Pilgrim obſerved that he had loſt that fair ſight of Jeruſalem which he ſo much admired. At which he began to be ſurpriſed with a little quivering and coldneſs in his Body; till his Old Comforter told him that this ought to be the cauſe of no troubleſome thoughts. For the whole way (ſaid he) to that place conſiſts much of Hills and Dales; and as now you are going down from the heights wherein you have been, ſo ſhall you advance again in due time, and be preſented not only with a freſh, but with a fairer ſight of it. He told him alſo how impoſſible it was for any Traveller to remain long upon thoſe Mountains, where the Air is ſo quick and piercing that it would make them quit their earthly Manſions. And withall he diſcourſed of the advantage of thoſe Vallies and ſhewed him the Silver Brooks full of the Waters of Life which ran in thoſe humble places; together with all the pretty flowers wherewith the verdant banks of thoſe ſtreams were crowned. In fine he repreſented to him that they were ſo far from deſcending now into any diſmall ſhades; that they were but going to eaſe their minds with a little variety in theſe cool levels, which were almoſt ſpent and exhaled by ſo long a fight of Jeruſalem in thoſe ſuperiour Regions. Not omitting alſo to let him know that it was not ſo impoſſible as he imagined to meet with ſomething of it, in thoſe low Meadows into which they were now entring; which ſpread ſo goodly a Carpet for their feet to tread upon, that the Hill which they had left ſeemed to bow its Head to look upon the richneſs of it. And thereupon he ſhewed him how thoſe Cryſtal Waters, which he heard murmuring, and inviting his thirſt to quench it ſelf in their ſtreams, came down from a Spring on the brow of that Mountain where they had lately been. And can you believe, ſaid he, that any thing can flow from thence which brings no tydings with it from Jeruſalem? Taſt and ſee if their relliſh be not ſuch as tells you from whence they come, and makes this place happy which flows with ſuch contentment. Believe not me but your ſelf (if it be not too much for you to ſtoop down and drink) that theſe Vallies are watred from above, and receive at ſecond hand what the more riſing ground at the firſt enjoyes.
The Young man heard him very obediently and ſoon ſatisfied himſelf in the truth of what he ſaid, by taſting of the Waters, which had a ſtrong tincture of Jeruſalem. For the Rayes that come from it and beat continually upon that aſpiring Hill, had indued the whole body of it with ſome of their Vertue, which might conſtantly be communicated to the neighbouring, though lower places. He was immediately inſpired (I mean) with a great heat of Divine Love, in which he found not a little of Heaven. He ſaw that Meditation, Prayer, and ſuch like holy imployments do but diſpoſe the will to acts of Charity, and doing good to all, according as God hath done to us. The clearer ſight he perceived that any one hath of the Glory to come, the more powerfully is his heart touched with a fervent deſire and endeavour to be thus imployed. This is the natural iſſue of a right belief of what Chriſt hath promiſed. There is nothing ſo naturally flows from it when raiſed to its higheſt pitch, as and eaſineſs and pleaſure in doing good: than which nothing can come nearer to the life of them that dwell above. He ſaw now that Jeruſalem might be found in the houſes of the ſick, in Hoſpitals, and the meaneſt places where Humility and Charity can find themſelves any work. If he met with a poor Stranger that moved his compaſſion, it was as if he had met with an Angel. If any differences came in his way which he could compoſe, it was as if Jeſus had ſpoken peace unto him. When the Orphans and Widows gave him their Bleſſing, it was as if he had received one from Heaven. And all this gave him the greater ſatisfaction, becauſe he was afraid he ſhould have met with it no where elſe, ſave only on ſuch Mountains as they had newly left.
But yet I muſt not forget to tell you that there was none for whom he felt ſuch a particular kindneſs, as this perſon who had ſo charitably conducted him and made every condition ſo pleaſing to him. He had no ſooner drunk off one Cup of the waters named, and began ſome actions of Charity to others, but he felt himſelf all over in a flame of love to him. Whatſoever he did, the end of it ſtill was to think how much he was beholden to his love which had directed him to this moſt happy life of doing good. One would have thought by the effects that it had been ſuch a potion as they call a Philtrum which hath a power its ſaid to faſcinate Souls; and draw them by a ſweet inchantment to that party who adminiſters it to them. And to tell you the very truth, had not the wiſdom of his Friend again prevented it, this had proved one of the ſoreſt temptations which he had hitherto encountred; notwithſtanding all the good counſel wherewith with he had been armed. For as he was wont to report of himſelf, his heart was ſo much glewed to this Friend of his; that ſometimes he could not think of Jeſus or Jeruſalem meerly for thinking of him. He thought it was very ſad that any one ſhould be too greedy of ſo innocent a pleaſure; but yet he fancied ſometimes that he was, and that nothing elſe pleaſed him but only the ſociety of this perſon.
Who now therefore thought himſelf concerned to have a more then ordinary care of his Patient, becauſe he had made him ſick; or at leaſt been an occaſion of his preſent diſeaſe. And ſo quick he was in his Applications, that it could ſcarce be called by that name; but by the Vertue of his remedies was rather turned into a cure of other diſtempers, which had ſome root within him. It is not ſtrange (ſaid the Old man) that I ſhould creep ſo far into your heart, if you do but conſider how wide we open our breaſts to thoſe things which are of great uſe and advantage to us. There was no other cauſe but this that made men Deifie certain Creatures, which they found to be very high benefactors unto them. Have you never heard any body call the Sun a Viſible God? And what was it I beſeech you that procured him ſo many adorers, but the ſenſe that men had of the benefit of his fires; which enamoured them of his beauty, and inflamed their love to the height of Devotion to him? Wonder not then at your ſelf that you perceive ſuch a fervour in your ſoul to me your poor friend; whom you eſteem (though alas unworthy of ſuch a name) to be no leſs then your Treaſure. This will juſtifie an high degree of affection towards me. And there is no danger I'le warrant you, of proving an Idolatrous Lover, if you will but let me ſhew you how eaſily you may make me become what you call me; and improve this Affection ſo, as to be a very great gainer by it. But firſt I muſt reveal to you this ſecret, which you have not hitherto diſcovered; that of this affection I my ſelf have a larger ſhare then yet hath appeared; yea, to your own perſon I have not been ſo cold as you may perhaps imagine. And yet I am ſo far from thinking my ſelf, the worſe for what I feel of it, that I take my ſelf to be much the better; and would not for all the world have a leſs portion of it then I perceive you find in your own heart.
Now that you may not think I make uſe of Rhetoricall figures and launch out a great deal beyond the truth; let me beg ſo much of your patience (who as you confeſs have imployed much of mine) till I relate what benefit I have found by loving you. For then I hope you will think it poſſible for your ſelf to reap the ſame: and not be troubled for the exceſs of love you bear to me; ſince thereby you receive no greater hurt, then to become capable of enjoying a more exceeding advantage. And God being the Chiefeſt Good, the higheſt object of our Underſtandings, the ſatisfaction of our Wills, the Centre of all rational deſires; what greater commendation can there be of Friendſhip, than that it is apt to bring our Souls into a fuller poſſeſſion of this Beeing, who is the cauſe of all other, and of all happineſs? Will you not confeſs that it is a thing of great Uſe, and great Value; which ſhall indear him unto you, who is of more uſe and worth then the Sun or all the World? Now if you can give any credit to me, you may be aſſured that my Friendſhip with you hath taught me not only that God is Love, but what it is to love God, better then any thing elſe perhaps could have done. And what is this Love, but as you have often heard, the whole Duty of man; all that God requires of us that we may enjoy eternal felicity with him? This if I can demonſtrate, I ſuppoſe you will no longer complain of an exceſs of this excellent affection, which may ſo eaſily be converted, without much Art or contrivance, into one ſo Divine, that that God himſelf will love it very much.
And if you would know by what Chymiſtry it was that I turned this Baſer affection (as you are apt to call it) into that which is ſo noble and ſublime; it will be a matter of no difficulty to make you underſtand it; for there was no longer operation in it then this. I uſed to obſerve what it was that my love cauſed me to do to you, and that I concluded was farr more due to God. And ſo it taught me (1.) To think often of him and to keep him in Mind; for this I found a neceſſary effect of the Friendſhip I have with you. If there be ſomething in your Idea that is grateful to me, which makes me to hugg it ſo much and carry it about with me, then there muſt needs be a great deal more in that Idea I have of God, who ought therefore ever to bear me company, and to go along with me as my Joy where ever it be that my occaſions lead me. And ſo (2.) I learnt by loving you, to take a delight in converſing with him, and to embrace or rather ſeek all opportunities of frequenting his company. And then (3.) (For I muſt not ſtay to enlarge theſe things into long diſcourſes, but leave that for your work) I was inſtructed hereby to deſire his acquaintance more, to thirſt after an intimate familiarity with him, and to be more perfectly united to him. (4.) To be highly pleaſed alſo in him was another fruit of this Amity; To reſt ſo ſatisfied in his enjoyment, as to want nothing to compleat my contentment. And (5.) To ſtudy withal how to be pleaſing to him; or rather to be able without any ſtudy, by a meer likeneſs of Nature, to do all things agreeably to his mind. For I muſt take ſo much liberty by the way as to tell you, that there is no anxious labour in love, nor any carefulneſs to find what is grateful to our Beloved; but we have a natural inclination to do juſt as they would have us. From hence (6.) I proceeded to like well of whatſoever He doth; and to be pleaſed with all his Providences. For we alwayes feel our ſelves inclined to find no fault with our Friends, to interpret every thing to the beſt ſenſe; and rather to excuſe that which is ill, then think that they can do it. And (7.) To receive all his kindneſſes with a ſingularly great gratitude, as proceeding only from the goodneſs of his own nature, and not from any deſert of mine. (8.) To keep in Memory alſo his Benefits, and to think of them as I would of the tokens of your love; which I could not but look upon when I did not ſee you. And (9.) as for his Holy word (which one of the Antient Guides uſed to call the Epiſtle of God to man) I cannot but read it as I do your Letters, with a great deal of pleaſure and tranſport. And (10.) Likewiſe I read it over and overagain, as I am wont to do your Letters; not being content with a ſingle pleaſure; not thinking that I can eſpy all your affection at once that breathes there. And (11.) Do you think that I can live and not long to hear from him, or that I can be ſo patient as not to deſire to ſee him? No, I am ever ſaying as the holy Pſalmiſt, O when wilt thou come unto me? You have taught me to contrive all wayes that I may enjoy him, and to think my ſelf more happy in it, then all the world can make me. And (12.) then I cannot but contrive how I may moſt ſerve him, and be glad of any occaſion which is offered of ſo doing. For you may be confident I ſhould ſuſpect my love, if it did not excite me to render you all the ſervices that are in my power; and make me ſtudy to be able to do that, which is now out of the compaſs of it. And (13.) another thing for which I ſtand indebted to your love, is, that I am taught thereby to be very tender of his Honour, and to be troubled that any body ſhould ſpeak evil of him or do any thing againſt him. Nay (14.) Since you have given me leave to love you, I find that I am deſirous every Body ſhould love him that is ſo amiable in my eyes; juſt as I wiſh that you may be acceptable to all and never meet with any unkindneſs. (15.) I have learnt alſo to conſult and adviſe with him upon all occaſions, and to open as it were my very Heart to him. (16.) And then to be confident of his help; and to expect undoubtedly to receive it, whenſoever I have occaſion for it. To which (17.) if I ſhould not add that I have learnt never to be weary of his Company, but ſtill to take a freſh delight in it, I ſhould much forget my ſelf; for that is a moſt ſenſible effect of your Friendſhip. And (18.) ſo is this; To be loath to part with it, and to hold him ſo faſt as not to be willing to let him go. As alſo (19.) To be impatient of his abſence, at leaſt not to be ſo well any where elſe as I am with him. And (20.) in fine, To long ever to be with him; and to be put into ſuch a condition that I may never have the trouble of parting with his company, which alas! in this world I am forced too oft to ſuffer. And you need not wonder that I have learnt this laſt Leſſon by our Friendſhip; for if you and I could now leave theſe pleaſant Plains wherein we are, and ſtrip our ſelves of this fleſh; I formy part would willingly conſent unto it, if I had aſſurance but of this happineſs; that I ſhould take you by the hand, and we ſhould wander up and down in the Air together.
I had almoſt forgot to tell you another happy fruit of this paſſion, and that is, when I deſire any thing of him, to leave it to his choice and diſpoſition; knowing that his wiſe Love will do that for me, which is moſt requiſite and conducing to my welfare. Nay, more then this I feel ſuch an inclination to you, that I cannot but be aſhamed if I am not carried with ſuch a Natural affection unto God. I did not begg of my Will to love you, for I was ſurpriſed at firſt ſight with that affection; and felt ſuch a propenſion to you as the Iron doth to the Loadſtone, which cannot chuſe but be raviſhed and attracted by it. From which you may be confident that now it is out of my Power to forbear to love you; and that it is not a buſineſs to be referred to choice, but which Nature commands, which will not be diſobeyed or controuled. But then me thinks my Soul cannot be ſo dull (finding it ſelf thus diſpoſed to you) as to ſtay to ask it ſelf a reaſon why it ſhould love God; or whether it will love or no. I am forced to love him, and carried to him by ſuch a ſtrong inclination as hath no Cauſe but only Nature. At leaſt, this ſtate I am reaching after; and it ſeems very unhandſome, that I ſhould be ever telling my ſelf that there is this and that cauſe why I ſhould love God: for I would be ſo impreſſed by him that out of an innate tendency of mind I might run to him; or rather might ſtill be with him and have him continually before mine eyes. I have heard it, I remember, affirmed by ſome, that this Love of Inclination comes only from a Reminiſcence, or calling to mind ſuch things as have been before. Such ſouls, ſay they, have been acquainted in ſome other World; and they do not now commence a new love, but only continue an old. And truly if I might judge of the truth of what they ſay by the love I find to God, me-thinks they are not without the countenance of ſome reaſon. For my ſoul ſeems but to renew an antient acquaintance with him. My love to him is ſo natural and eaſie, that it is juſt as if once we knew one another before. It doth not ſeem to be the birth of an affection which was not, but only the awakening of that which lay aſleep. For there are no pangs, no difficulty in bringing forth this Love; but we open our eyes and ſee that glorious object which our Souls would have, and cannot but faſten themſelves upon.
And if I ſhould add an heap of obſervations to theſe of another ſort, and ſhow you how hereby we come to be perſwaded of Gods Love to us; and to have ſuch high thoughts of it as to believe he is ready to grant us any thing that we ask, to paſs by our faults, to come and viſit us, to ſend his ſervants the Angels to ſee us, and wait upon us, &c. and all becauſe he is our Friend; you would ſee a further uſe of this divine affection and be convinced that we cannot but live uncomfortably without it. And indeed if any one ſhould think that it is put into our Souls for ſo poor an End as to tickle us with a little pleaſure in civil converſation, and to help us to paſs away the time more merrily, without any regard to theſe Heavenly uſes; it would be as abſurd a conceit, as to imagine the Sun was made for no other purpoſe but to colour the cheeks of our Apples, and enlarge the Sphaere of our Cabbages. No, nature will not let us depreſs ſo far this darling of hers, to which ſhe is inclined above all other things. That muſt needs be implanted by the hand of God to which all men have a propenſity; and ſince it is very ſtrong, overweighing all other inclinations; we muſt needs think that it was planted in them to do them ſome great benefit, and to be the inſtrument above all other things of their happineſs. Now what is there to which we have a more imbred inclination, then to love and to deſire to be beloved? There is no man but hates to be alone, and can as little indure to be with thoſe for whom he hath no love. For ſtill he is alone, if that be not there. A crowd is not company; (as a Wiſe man ſayes) and Faces are but a Gallery of Pictures; and Talk but a Tinkling Cymbal, where there is no love. Nay ſo natural is this to us (and withall ſo ſweet) that I believe there is no man in the World who for all the wealth in it, would be bound to love no body and to be beloved of none.
He was going on to ſome further diſcourſes on this ſubject, when the other cryed out, Hold, do not wholly impoveriſh this argument, but leave ſomething for me to ſay, who am abundantly ſatisfied that there is nothing comparable to this which hath been the cauſe of my trouble. I will never blame my ſelf more for exceeding too much in this ſort of love. I plainly ſee that Mediocrity, which every where elſe is counted a Vertue, doth here become a Vice. I am more then converted by your excellent diſcourſe. I muſt turn Proſelyte to him who ſaid, That he would have the Affection of Friends appear rather a Paſſion then a Vertue: That Friendſhip hath nothing more excellent in it then exceſs: and that it doth rather offend in the Moderation, then in its Violence and extremity. And here he began to invent all the Praiſes he could of Friendſhip, which he called, The top and perfection of Love; the Soul of the World; the Spirit of Nature; the bond of Society; the marriage and happy union of agreeing minds; the life and joy of mankind; the relief of our ſorrows; the Phyſitian of all our ſecret griefs; our Buckler in all aſſaults; our Oracle in our doubts; the Governor and Tutor of a proſperous condition; the Comforter of a declining fortune; without which the greateſt happineſs would be irkſome to us; and in whoſe company the greateſt affliction cannot make us miſerable. He reflected alſo very happily on this; that it was one of the laſt things that Jeſus himſelf did in this world, to make a Friendſhip between two great perſons, his bleſſed Mother, and his beloved Diſciple. Theſe he remembred our Lord would have to live together like Mother and Son; which he thought imported ſuch a dearneſs between them, as would juſtifie the height of his affection. And then he cryed out, Thou O Divine Love, art the nature of God, the life of Angels, the employment of Heaven! By knowing thee I know what it is that I owe to God; and I now alſo know Jeruſalem better, where they exerciſe the Nobleſt Friendſhips. I will never fear thee any more; for I ſee thou wilt ſecure my duty to God, and it will be ſtrange if my Neighbours be not better for thee, who art alwayes inſtigating me to do good. What though I be chained more to one perſon then another; you need not think, O ſons of men, that I ſhall thereby become leſs charitable to you: For my love finding here a continual employment and conſtant exerciſe for it ſelf; I am the more diſpoſed and ready when occaſion ſerves to expreſs it to you all. My retirements cannot work its decay; but in the greateſt privacy this friendſhip keeps any ruſt from growing over it, and preſerves it pure and bright for the uſe of others too. I love you all whereſoever you dwell on the face of the whole earth. I ſtretch out my hands to you from one Pole to the other; wiſhing I could do you good. And though I cannot reach you every one; yet my love gives me the comfort of this aſſurance, that God is with you; who as he hath a greater love ſo a greater ability to help you all.
But his Guide who was better acquainted with his duty then himſelf, thought it beſt to bring him out of this Rapture; becauſe he ſaw that he would immerſe himſelf too far in the pleaſure of this contemplation; and likewiſe thought it was not ſafe to gratifie themſelves with too much of this Honey at once. He prayed him therefore to lay aſide this diſcourſe a while and to divert himſelf with the obſervation of ſome of thoſe flowers and plants wherewith they ſaw the earth ſtrewed as they went along. For ſure, ſaid he, theſe were not made for us to tread upon, nor only to feed our eyes with their grateful Variety, or to bring a ſweet odor to our Noſes; but there is a more internal beauty in them for our minds to prey upon; did we but let them penetrate beyond the ſurface of theſe things into their hidden properties. You are a Chriſtian it is confeſſed, but doth that make you ceaſe to be a Man? You read the Goſpel of our Saviour, but muſt that give a diſcharge to all our rational inquiries into the Book of Nature? Doth the new Creation intend to deſtroy the old? Or becauſe we behold God in the face of Chriſt muſt we look upon him no where elſe? No ſuch matter; there is a more antient obligation upon you to ſtudy the Works of God; of which you ought to quit your ſelf while you ſtudy his Word. It is an honour to the School of Chriſt, when his Diſciples are ſkill'd in all Wiſdom. He is ſuch a Maſter as would not have us know other things the leſs, but the more, by knowing him. And ſo they began to pry into many curioſities, which ſeveral of the Creatures they met withall preſented to them; not without a great aſtoniſhment at that infinite underſtanding that was the Contriver of them. And having once taſted of this kind of Learning, he often wiſhed that it was in his power to underſtand more of his own Body; of the motions of the Sun, Moon and other Stars; with many things beſides in this great Fabrick; wherein he knew God had hid great treaſures of Wiſdom, and ingraven a fair Image of himſelf. Yea, he conceived the whole World ſometimes a great Temple, and himſelf one of the Prieſts that God had placed therein to offer up the Praiſes of all the Creatures, and acknowledge his Wiſdom, his Power, his Goodneſs; which are conſpicuous in the frame of them. And though he could acquire but a very ſmall knowledge of ſome of them; yet it was a great pleaſure to ſee that there were many more intelligent Prieſts then himſelf and more acquainted with Natures Myſteries; who rendred to God continually better Praiſes, and called upon all his works in all places of his Dominion to bleſs his Holy name.