COLLECTION  OF  PURITAN  AND 
 ENGLISH  THEOLOGICAL  LITERATURE 
 
 LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 
 PRINCETON,  NEW  JERSEY 
 
 1i77 
 
'  Jt^-K.  fru4& 
 
$?erlegi  Ingeniofum,  &  Tium  bunc  Li- 
 brum,  cui Titulus (The  Para- 
 ble of  the  Pilgrim)  in 
 quo  nihil  reperio  'DoBrinte,  Qifci- 
 plinave  Ecclejite  Anglican* ,  aut  bo- 
 nis moribtu  Contrarium. 
 
 J  o  h.  Hall  Rev.  in  Chrifto 
 Patri  Hum  f  redo  Dom. 
 Epifc.  Lond.  a  fac.  Doneft. 
 
 Ex  /Edibus  Londinenfis 
 April  ii.   1665. 
 
THE 
 
 PARABLE 
 
 OF  T  H  E 
 
 PILGRIM: 
 
 Written  to  a  F  r  i  e  n  d* 
 
 By                                  J 
 
 Symon'Patrick  D« D. 
 
 Chaplain  in  Ordinary  to  His  Majefty. 
 
 €&e  fifty  €l)ttiorn 
 
 LOMDON, 
 
 Printed  by -Robert white  for  Francis  Tyton^  at  the  Sign  of  the 
 
 three  Daggers  in  Fleet-Jlreet.    1678. 
 
My  Friend, 
 
 |CT^^Hat  j  fead  one  tQ  wak  upon 
 
 you  in  the  Habit  of  a  Pil- 
 grim y  which  hath  been  Co 
 long  out  of  Fafhion  ,  and 
 quite  worn  not  only  out  of 
 our  ufe,  but  out  of  our 
 knowledge,  may  fecm  a  thing  very  ftrange, 
 and  prove  furprifing  to  you.  But  when  you 
 fhall  confider  that  old  Fafhions  are  wont  to 
 come  about  again,  and  that  we  are  much 
 in  love  with  Antiques,  and  that  our  eyes 
 are  drawn  to  one  that  appears  inanunufual 
 or  foreign  drefs-,  whoelfe  would  not  be 
 obferved,  it  may  abate  a  little  of  the  won- 
 der. I  fay  a  little,  becaufe  fonie  will  ftill 
 remain,  thathefbould  come  from  one  of 
 A  3  my 
 
my  complexion  ;  who  have  but  a  little  of 
 fanfie  in  my  compofition,  and  fo  muft  needs 
 be  a  ftranger  to  Works  of  this  nature.  But 
 you  will  receive  fatisf action  in  this  alfo, 
 when  you  (hall  know  (as  the  truth  is)  that 
 I  met  with  a  man  one  day,  that  had  put 
 himfelf  in  this  habit .  who  plcafed  me  fo 
 much,  that  he  perfwaded  me  to  conceive 
 this  defign  of  providing  fuch  another  <Pil- 
 grim  to  ferve  you.  It  happened,  I  mean, 
 that  reading  a  little  while  agone  the  Works 
 *  Bakers  of  a  great  Writer  * ,   I  found  among  other 
 
 SSothia  matters>  a  mort  Difcourfe,  in  the  compafs 
 of  four  or  five  leaves,  under  this  name  of 
 The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim: 
 And  it  was  fo  agreeable  to  that  fmall  por- 
 tion of  fanfie  I  am  indued  withal,  that  I  pre- 
 fently  thought  a  work  of  this  nature  would 
 be  very  grateful  to  you  alio.  This  was 
 the  occafion  of  thefe  Meditations,  which 
 as  faft  as  my  other  imployments  would 
 permit,  I  have  brought  into  this  fhape 
 wherein  they  are  now  prefented  to  you. 
 The  Title  of  my  Book  I  have  borrowed 
 from,  him,  becaufe  I  could  not  find  a  better  5 
 and  I  have  made  ufe  likewife  of  one  fen- 
 tence  very  often ,  which  he  puts  into  his 
 
Pilgrims  mouth:  but  with  fuch  improve- 
 ment of  fenfe,  that  it  is  little  more  than  the 
 words  that  I  am  beholden  to  him  for. 
 And  as  to  the  matter  of  it,  I  muft  leave 
 you  to  judge  when  you  have  perufed  it,  how 
 pertinent  it  is  to  your  prefent  and  paft  con- 
 dition ;  being  allured  that  if  you  find  not  all 
 that  you  defire,  yet  you  will  find  thatlhad 
 an  unfeigned  defire  to  do  you  fervice.  As 
 tothedrefsof  it,  I  know  that  you  will  not 
 expect  this  Pilgrim  fhould  come  to  you  in 
 fine  Apparel,  and  like  feme  Gallant  -,  but 
 rather  judge  it  more  decent  that  he  is  attired 
 plainly  according  to  the  quality  and  con- 
 dition of  his  perfon  and  Profeflion.  This 
 made  me  the  more  carelefs  in  what  cloa- 
 thinglfethimout,  and  to  take  fuch  trim- 
 ming as  came  next  Nto  hand:  having  a  far 
 weightier  Care  upon  me,  tornake  him  fpeak 
 fuch  clear  and  perfpicuous  Language  as  you 
 might  readily  apprehend  And  indeed  if 
 there  be  any  thing  here  laid  that  is  not  plain 
 and  eafie,  it  is  very  much  againft.  my  will  : 
 for  I  am  of  his  mind  that  hath  told  us,  It  is 
 tbegreateftmijery  in  writing  not  only  not  to  be  un- 
 derftood,  but  to  be  underflocd  with  diffii  ulty.  And 
 now  if  this  poor  Pilgrim  fliall  find  any  ac- 
 ceptance 
 
ceptance  at  your  hands,  and  be  found  capa- 
 ble to  ferve  the  ends  of  Wifdom  andVertue, 
 which  he  would  willingly  advance ;  I  pray 
 keep  him  with  you,that  if  he  can  live  longer 
 than  I,  he  may  always  tell  you  how  much  I 
 am, 
 
 Cove nt-  Garden, 
 Decemb.  14.1663.  Tour  Friend, 
 
 S.  P. 
 
 An 
 
Jn  /idrvertifement. 
 
 THe  Reader  may  be  pleafed  to  know  that  this 
 Pilgrim  hath  dwelt  for  fome  time  in  thcfcr- 
 vice  of  a  private  Friend,  (to  whofe  ufes  and 
 occafions  he  was  particularly  addreffed)  and 
 there  hath  been  fo  well  entertained,  that  he  was  not  am- 
 bitious of  any  higher  preferment.  But  he  met  with  a  per- 
 fon  fo  charitable,  and  who  proved  alfo  fuch  a  friend  to 
 him,  that  he  was  thought  worthy  to  be  advanced  to  a 
 more  publick  imployment,  and  would  not  be  permitted 
 to  remain  any  longer  in  that  private  attendance.  In  obe- 
 dience therefore  to  the  commands  he  received,  he  comes 
 now  abroad  and  offers  his  afliftance  to  any  that  (hall 
 think  good  to  make  ufe  of  it :  being  grown  alfo  bigger 
 fince  he  went  thither,  and  fo  of  better  ability  toferve 
 more  than  one.  In  plain  words  (for  thofc  I  moft  affect, 
 and  if  you  meet  with  fo  much  as  any  Metaphorical  ex- 
 preflions  in  the  Book,  it  is  but  feldom,  and  only  to  com- 
 ply with  the  Title )  this  Difcourfe  was  writ  with  a  re- 
 fpe£t  to  the  neceflities  of  a  particular  perfon:who  imagi- 
 ned that  others  might  poflibly  reap  fome  benefit  by  it, 
 and  therefore  defired  it  might  not  lie  in  a  private  hand. 
 But  it  being  neceffery  to  tranfcribe  the  Papers  that  they 
 might  be  read  by  the  Printer*  it  was  thought  withal  ad- 
 vifeable  that  fome  things  (hould  be  enlarged  to  make 
 them  better  underftood,  and  others  added  to  render  the 
 ufefulnefs  of  the  Treatife  (if  it  can  have  any)  of  greater 
 extent.  Only  this  muft  be  remembred,that  a  regard  was 
 ftill  had  to  the  needs  of  that  Perfon  (  which  yet  are  fuch 
 (a)  as 
 
An  Ad<vertifement. 
 
 as  all  pious  Souls  generally  labour  withal)  and  therefore 
 itmuftnotbe  expected  that  every  cafe  which  can  occur 
 in  Chriftian  life  (hould  here  be  handled.  And  indeed 
 that  would  have  fwelled  this  Difcourfe  to  over  great  a 
 bulk,  and  required  very  long  confederation  >  or  elfe  it 
 is  like  it  had  been  attempted. 
 
 It  muft  be  noted  alfo,  that  it  was  thought  fit  to  make 
 thediftance  but  (hort  between  the  Pilgrims  parting  with 
 his  Guide  and  their  meeting  again  5  becaufe  that  would 
 ftill  have  too  much  inlarged  thisTreatife,  to  defcribe 
 particularly,  his  behaviour  in  the  whole  courfe  of  an 
 Holy  Life,  for  which  that  would  have  been  the  proper 
 place. 
 
 There  are  fome  things  alfo  may  feem  a  little  ftrange 
 which  are  faid  to  have  hapned  to  the  Pilgrim ;  but  you 
 are  to  remember  that  God  puts  good  thoughts  into  our 
 minds  more  ways  than  one  5  and  to  know  that  thefub- 
 ftance  of  what  is  reported  is  not  a  Contrivance,  but  a 
 real  Truth. 
 
 And  now  it  would  argue  great  unexperience  of  the 
 world  to  expect,  that  this  Pilgrim  mould  not  meet  with 
 fome,  whofe  curiofity  he  cannot  humour  •  and  others 
 whofe  fowrenefs  nothing  can  pleafe.  But  he  that  fends 
 him  abroad  will  be  abundantly  fatisfied  if  he  become 
 ufeful  to  any  well-difpofed  Soul,  who  ihall  have  a  mind 
 to  bear  him  company  to  Jerufalem. .  And  if  he  chance 
 to  meet  with  any  that  (hall  only  itudy  to  cavil,  and  pick 
 a  quarrel  with  him ;  he  is  prepared  before-hand  to  take 
 no  notice  at  all  of  it,  nor  to  be  more  troubled  at  their 
 incivility,  than  a  devout  Hermit  is  at  the  ugly  faces, 
 which  the  Creatures,  who  fomething  refemblemen, 
 make  at  him3  as  he  is  walking  through  the  defarts. 
 
 THE 
 
THE 
 
 CONTENTS- 
 
 CAP.   I. 
 
 THE  occafwn  and  intention  of  this  Pilgrimage,   with  the 
 time  when  it  was  undertaken.  Page  i 
 
 CAP.    II. 
 
 The  earneft  deftrc  of  the  Pilgrim  to  be  at  Jerufakltl :  and  what  he 
 expected  to  find  there.  p.  ^ 
 
 CAP.   III. 
 
 The  great  trouble  that  he  fell  into >,    becaufe  of  the  different  ways 
 which  he  was  told  of  to  that  place,  p.  7 
 
 CAP.    IV. 
 
 How  he  happily  heard  of  a  fife  Guide  unto  it :  with  a  trne  Cha- 
 racter of  him.  p.  I  2 
 
 CAP.    V. 
 
 The  Opinion  which  otlnrs  conceived  of  that  Guide  :  and  his  ad- 
 drefs  to  him.  p.  1 5 
 
 CAP.     VI. 
 
 The  Acceptance  which  he  found  with  him:  and  how  plainly  the 
 Guide  dealt  with  him  about  tlje  difficulties  of  the  Way.       p.  1 8 
 
 CAP.     VII. 
 The  Guide  difcovers  his  fncerc  and  upright  Intentions.         p. 2 1 
 
 CAP.    VIII. 
 
 He  begins  his  adv'Pe  :    and  after  the  grand  Dircllion,    which 
 (a  2)  contain* 
 
The  Conteats. 
 
 contains  many  of  the  reft;  he  gives  him  fnndry  preparatory 
 Comfels.  And  above  all,  tells  him  that  he  muft  be  provided 
 with  a  firong  Refolution.  p.  2  5 . 
 
 CAP.    IX- 
 
 Amore  particular  Difcourfe  of  Refolution :  and  of  the  manner 
 how  to  form  fuch  an  one  as  will  b  e  found  and  firm.  p.  3  9. 
 
 CAP.    X. 
 
 Of  leaving  the  World,  and  how  thereby  we  recover  our  freedom. 
 
 p.51. 
 
 CAP.    XI. 
 
 He  commends  to  the  Pilgrim  two  Companions ;   Humility  and 
 
 Charity.     Directs  whereto  find  them.     With  a  large  Dif- 
 
 conrfe  of  the  former  of  them.  p.  5  8. 
 
 CAP.    XII. 
 
 Of  Divine  Charity.  The  Power  that  it  hath  both  to  eftablifh 
 his  Refolution,  and  furnijlj  him  with  all  other  Requifttes  for 
 his  Journey.  p.  70. 
 
 CAP.    XIII. 
 
 A  Defer iption  of  the  City  Jerllfalem :  and  of  the  happinefs  he 
 Jhould  there  meet  withal.  p.  82 . 
 
 CAP.     XIV. 
 'The  manner  of  their  Life  who  live  at  Jerufalem .-  and  that  all 
 things  concur  to  make  it  the  moftpleafant  of  all  other,      p .  9  5 . 
 
 CAP.    XV. 
 
 A  Defcription  of  Jefiis,  who  is  the  true  Way  to  Jerufalem.  In 
 which  he  is  propounded  to  the  Pilgrims  imitation.  p.  107. 
 
 CAP.    XVI. 
 
 Of  Faith  in  Jefiis.  How  imperfectly,  or  obfeurely  it  is  commonly 
 exprejfed,  to  the  great  danger  of  Chriftian  Pilgrims.  What 
 the  me  notion  of  ids,  which  cannot  deceive  us,         p.  1 37. 
 
 CAP. 
 
The  Contents. 
 
 CAP.    XVII. 
 
 What  place  Prayer  ,Hearing  of  Sermons,  Reading  of  (Sood  Books, 
 Receiving  the  Sacrament,  have  in  the  Religion  of  Jelus.  And 
 of  what  life  they  are  to  Pilgrims.  p.  150 
 
 CAP.    XVIII. 
 
 Of  the  many  enemies  he  was  to  expett,  that  would  affault  his  Re- 
 flation :  Some  from  within,  fome  from  without.  Of  their 
 fubtilties,  and -various  arts  to  deceive.  p.  1 68 
 
 CAP.    XIX. 
 
 Of  many  other  devices  to  difcourage  him  in  his  Journey.  Efpcci- 
 ally  if  hefiould  chance  to  get  a  fall.  p.  1 77 
 
 CAP.    XX. 
 
 How  they  will  endeavour  to  puff him  up  with  Spiritual?  ride.  A 
 defer  iption  of  one  of  our  conceited  Believers,  and  alfo  of  a  cer- 
 tain Artificial  Religion  which  deceives  many.  p.  1 95 
 
 CAP.    XXI. 
 
 Of  the  endeavours  of  his  Enemies  to  keep  him  from  doing  good  to 
 his  Breth  ten  under  a  pretence  of  hove  to  Cod,  And  of  the 
 Excellency  of  that  Brotherly  Charity.  p.  208 
 
 CAP.    XXIII. 
 
 That  a  Pilgrim  mufi  fometime  recreate  himfelf  as  well  as  other 
 men.  Of  the  pleafure  of  good  Company.  What  Men  are  to  be 
 more  particularly  avoided:  Of  the  Feflivals  of  the  Church.  How 
 ufeful  they  may  be.     And  how  much  abufed.  p.222 
 
 CAP.    XXIII. 
 
 What  entertainment  all  thefe  difcourfes  met  withal  from  the  Pil- 
 grim. And  of  the  pleafure  she  fiouldfindinhisway,  though 
 jncumbred  with  the  fore-named  Enemies.  p.  2  3  5 
 
 CAP.    XXIV. 
 
 Vpon  the  Pilgrims  requeft,  the  Guide  enters  into  a  further  de- 
 fcription  of  the  pleafure s  of  the  Way  to  Jerufalem,  and  an' 
 fwers  fomefcruples  of  his  about  it.  The  difficulty  of  the  begin- 
 ning of  his  Journey.  Of  taking  up  the  Crofs  that  might  lye  in 
 his  way  t  and fuch  lathings,  P.249 
 
 CAP, 
 
The  Contents. 
 cap.  xxv. 
 
 Hew  the  Pilgrim  and  his  Guide  farted.  And  with  what  a  brave 
 Refolutionhe  began  his  Journey.  p.27j 
 
 CAP.    XXVI. 
 Of  fundry  troubles  which  hapned  to  the  Pilgrim  in  his  Travels. 
 And  how  he  was  delivered  out  of  them.  p.  2  8 1 
 
 CAP.     XXVII. 
 How  the  Pijgrimfell  into  a  great  fadncfs  •■,   and  howflrangely  it 
 was  cured  by  an  unexpected  meeting  with  his  Guide.     Who  dif- 
 coiirfes  of  the  nature  offenfible  Joys.     And  at  laft  upon  his  de- 
 fire  contrails  a  particular  Friendihip  with  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 p.  293 
 
 CAP.  XXVIII. 
 
 Of  the  neccjfity  of  Friendjhip.  Of  faithful  Counfel.  How  the 
 Pilgrim  doubted  whether  there  wasfuch  a  place  as  Jerufalem. 
 The  fatisf action  which  his  Friend  gave  him  in  this  particular. 
 As  alfo  the  comfort  he  adminiftred  to  him  in  a  great  Sickncfs. 
 
 p.  321 
 
 CAP.    XXIX. 
 
 Of  the  trouble  which  the  Pilgrim  was  in  about  fome  bufinefs  which 
 had  lam  neglected  during  his  ficknefs.  Of  his  de fires  after  a 
 Contemplative  Life.  Of  Solitude.  The  Profit  of  it  \  efpecially 
 at  the  beginning  of  our  Chrifiian  courfe.  And  how  they  that 
 enjoy  it,  do  not  find  all  thefatisfailion  which  they  expelled  in  itt 
 
 p.  336' 
 
 CAP.     XXX. 
 
 How  the  Pilgrim  grew  very  dull  and  lazy.  By  what  means  he 
 wasyuickned  to  greater  diligence.  How  the  Guide  awakened 
 fomefiuggijh  Pilgrims  which  they  met  withal:  moving  them 
 to  ag  re  at  care  of  their  Souls  j  and  to  prove  their  Sincerity  in 
 Religion ',  by  their  being  zealous  of  good  works.  p.  3  5  o 
 
 CAP. 
 
The  Contents. 
 
 CAP.     XXXI. 
 
 How  the  Pilgrim  was  falling  into  the  contrary  Extreme,  and  waf 
 .prevented  by  this  Director.  Of  the  Neceffity  of  Difcreticn.* 
 And  the  Affiance  which  one  Vert  ue  gives  another.  How  he 
 was  troubled  that  hejlwuld  have  anypaffwns,  Of  the  ufe  of  them. 
 7 hat  it  is  fit  for  us  to  love  our  friends  paffonately :  and  to  take 
 great  delight  in  their  company.  p.  3  7 1 
 
 CAP.    XXXII. 
 
 How  they  light  upon  a  company  offeleci  Friends  who  were  met  at  a 
 frugal,  but  handfome  Dinner.  The  commendation  of  Tem- 
 perance. Of  the  pleafure  that  Friends  enjoy  in  eating  toge- 
 ther. The  benefit  of  Friendftrip.  With  the  Character  of  a  true 
 Friend.  p.  386 
 
 CAP.  XXXIII. 
 How  they  chanced  to  fee  a  very  poor  man  entertaining  himfelf 
 with  much  pleafure  under  a  Tree.  Whence  arofe  a  difcourfe 
 of  Contentment :  and  the  means  to  attain  it.  Of  Humility 
 and  Charity.  That  notwithftanding  all  our  Charity,  we 
 mufi  not  thinkjo  have  the  World  fo  good  as  we  would  wifh  it. 
 
 p.  403 
 
 CAP.  XXXIV. 
 How  they  fell  into  the  company  of  two  Travellers.     One  of  which 
 would  have  pulled  out  the  Pilgrims  eyes :  and  the  other  pulled 
 away  his  Guide.  p.  4 1 7 
 
 CAP.  XXXV. 
 A  Difcourfe  with  fome  Pilgrims  that  were  going  to  LorettO,  the 
 Holy  Land,  orfuch  like  places.  How  much  fuch  perfons  are 
 abufed  and  cheated.  The  judgement  of  St.  Gregory  Nyflen 
 of  thefc  Pilgrimages.  The  Priviledges  which  Rome  boafis  of 
 above  all  places.  And  what  a  Market  is  t  here  held  continual- 
 ly for  Pardons.  Of  which  a  Leafe  may  be  bought  of  many  thou- 
 sand years,  for  a  fmall  matter.  P.42S 
 
 CAP. 
 
The  Contents. 
 
 CAP.  XXXVI. 
 How  the  Pilgrim  had  a  fair  fight  of  the  heavenly  Jerufalem  .• 
 and  what  infued  thereupon.  How  eafie  it  is  by  a  true  and  paf- 
 fionate  Friendjliip  to  learn  the  greateft  Love  to  God.  And  that 
 he  is  to  beftudied  and  admired  in  all  his  Creatures,  as  well  as 
 in  his  Son  Chrift.  p.45  3 
 
 CAP.    XXXVII. 
 
 How  after  this  the  Pilgrim  fell  into  a  conceit  that  he  did  not  profit 
 in  Venue  :  and  how  his  Guide  rid  him  of  it.  That  we  mufi 
 not  make  too  much  haft  to  perfection y  but  go  leifurely  in  our 
 way.  How  afterwards  he  feared  that  hejhould  never  hold  put 
 to  the  end  of  his  Journey.  Of the  confident  z,eal  which  Jome 
 men  are  poffejfed  withal.  A  beginning  of  a  new  difcourfe  about 
 Faith.  p.47+ 
 
 CAP.    XXXVIII. 
 
 A  Difcourfe  with  an  Acquaintance  of  the  Pilgrims  about  refting 
 on  Chrift  for  Salvation.  The  wilfulnefs,  and  unskilfulnefs  of 
 fome  Guides  in  the  way  to  Jerufalem.  For  what  end  Chrift 
 dyed:  and  fo  what  it  is  that  our  Faith  is  principally  to  refpetl. 
 That  Chrift  is  a  means  to  our  end  :  and  therefore  Faith  muft 
 go  further  than  his  yerfon.  P-493 
 
 'CAP.    XXXIX. 
 
 The  Joy  which  the  Pilgrim  conceived  in  this  difcourfe  :  and  how 
 much  he  applauded  his  happinefs  in  having  fuch  a  Friend.  The 
 Serenity  of  his  Condition  after  all  thefe  Clouds.  And  how  no- 
 thing troubled  him  but  only  that  he  could  do  fo  little  to  teftifie 
 his  love  to  his  Guide  :  who  eafily  gave  him  fatisfattionby  ftiew- 
 ing  the  true  grounds  of  Frienfbdip.  p.  515 
 
 THE 
 
THE 
 
 PARABLE 
 
 O  F    THE 
 
 PILGRIM 
 
 Chap.   I. 
 
 The  occafion  and  intention  of  this  Tilgrirnage,  with 
 the  time  when  it  was  undertaken. 
 
 T  will  contribute  fo  little  either  to  the 
 profit  or  delight;  which  I  defign  you 
 in  the  reading  this  Hiftory,  to  know 
 the  punctual  years  and  days  wherein 
 every  thing  therein  contained  was 
 done,  that  it  will  be  a  commendable 
 thrift,  to  fpare  my  felf  the  labour  of  that  accuracy. 
 It  will  be  fufficient  to  let  you  underftand,  that  no 
 great  number  of  years  have  pafled,  fince  a  man  who 
 now  calls  himfelfPHILOTHEUSP  but  by  others  is 
 B  called 
 
the  Tarahleofthe  Pilgrim. 
 
 called  THEOPHILUS,  being  weary  of  the  Country 
 where  he  dwelt ,  and  rinding  no  fatisfa&ion  in  any 
 thing  that  he  enjoyed,  took  a  refolution  to  fhift  his  feat, 
 and  to  feek  for  that,  of  which  he  felt  as  great  a  defire 
 as  he  did  a  want,  in  fome  other  Land. 
 
 Many  ftrange  Countries  there  were  which  he  vi- 
 fited  in  purfuance  of  this  purpofe ;  many  fteep  Hills 
 he  climbed  ,  and  many  dangerous  precipices  he 
 narrowly  el'caped  j  he  committed  himielf  not  once 
 or  twice  to  the  anger  of  the  Sea,  expecting  to  be 
 brought  to  the  Port  which  he  fo  much  wifhed :  But 
 ftill  he  was  as  far  from  the  accomplifhment  of  his  de- 
 fires,  as  when  he  firft  Ianched  out,  and  found  all 
 his  pains  rewarded  with  nothing  but  wearinefs  and  ti- 
 red Spirits.  If  it  was  the  intention  of  this  Paper  to 
 recount  all  his  Adventures,  and  the  feveral  ififues  of 
 them,  (which  are  enough  to  fill  a  Volumn)  the  Story, 
 I  believe,  would  not  be  altogether  ufelefs,  nor  with- 
 out that  pleafure  which  fuch  Relations  are  wont  to 
 yield  to  thofe  that  read  them.  But  having  refolved 
 for  divers  caufes  to  begin  the  Hiftory  of  his  Life  there, 
 where  he  began  to  enjoy  a  tafte  of  happinefs ;  I  {hall 
 reflect  no  farther  upon  the  former  part  of  it,  than  on- 
 ly to  tell  you  in  what  cafe  that  bleiTed  hour  found 
 him.  You  muft  know  then,  that  after  fo  many  tedious 
 Journeys,  and  as  many  dit'appointments,  his  Leggs  be- 
 ginning quite  to  fail  him,  and  to  deny  him  fo  much 
 as  their  fupport^  he  fate  down  upon  the  ground  in  a 
 deep  melancholy,  and  fuch  a  great  heavinefs  of  mind, 
 that  it  was  feared  he  would  fink  lower ,  and  go  no 
 farther  to  feek  a  Grave.  His  countenance  wasfo  al- 
 tered, that  there  were  very  few  marks  remaining  of 
 the  fame  man  he  was  before :  His  looks  were  dejected, 
 his  eyes  grew  hollow ,  his  complexion  turned  fal- 
 low; 
 
The  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 low  5  and  in  fhorr,  his  Blood  was  fo  impoverished  of 
 fpirits,  that  his  fleili  fell  to  the  very  bone,  and  his 
 Cheeks,  in  a  defpair  of  any  other  comfort,  feemed  to 
 de/ire  to  meet  and  kifs,  and  fo  bid  the  World  farewel. 
 In  this  dilmal  eftate  he  continued  but  too  many  days ; 
 and  according  to  the  nature  of  that  thoughtful  hu- 
 mour which  now  had  gained  the  fupreme  power  over 
 him,  he  mufcd  on  divers  things,  and  contrived  fevcral 
 new  Journeys  in  his  fanfie,  which  yet  he  faw  ac  the 
 fame  moment  would  only  contribute  more  to  his  af- 
 fliction, and  nothing  at  all  to  the  amendment  of  his 
 condition.  But  at  laft  as  if  he  had  been  admoniftied 
 by  fome  courteous  Angel,  which  he  fanfied  then  flew 
 by  him,  and  gave  him  a  fmall  touch  with  his  wing,  he 
 felt  a  thought  ftir  in  his  foul,  remembring  him  of  a 
 place  called  JerufaUm^  which  he  had  totally  forgot  in 
 all  his  Travels,  and  never  fo  much  as  dreamed  of  di- 
 recting his  courfe  unto.  His  heart,  you  may  eafily 
 think,  leapt  at  this  fudden  ftroke,  and  his  pulfe  beat 
 at  no  ordinary  rate  >  for  having  heard  by  fome  means 
 or  other  in  times  paft ,  very  much  difcourfe  of  the 
 beauty,  and  the  pleafant  fcituation  of  that  City  >  of  the 
 fweet  temper  of  the  Inhabitants,  and  the  many  goodly 
 things  that  were  to  be  feen  and  enjoyed  there,  above 
 all  other  places ,  he  was  inftantly  poffcfTed  with  a 
 ftrong  defire  to  remove  his  feat  thither,  and  to  feek 
 his  fortune  fas  we  commonly  fpeak)  in  another 
 World.  And  pondering  ferioufly  with  himfelf  the 
 little  or  no  contentment  which  he  had  taken  in  his 
 beft  condition  here,  together  with  the  hopes  which 
 fluttered  in  his  foul  of  bettering  himfelf  there;  his 
 prefent  weaknefs  could  not  hinder  him  from  being 
 infpired  with  a  conceit  that  he  mould  be  able  to  tra- 
 vel thither,  nor  reprefs  his  deflres  from  growing  into 
 B  2  a  kind 
 
The  farahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 a  kind  of  paflion  to  be  at  that  place,  whither  his 
 houghts  did  run  before  him  without  his  leave,  and 
 rouldnot  beperfwaded  to  fta'nd  ftill  for  one  moment. 
 Such  is  the  nature  of  ever  excellent  good,  when  itpre- 
 fentsitlelftous,  and  doth  but  fan  our  fouls  with  any 
 hopes  of  obtaining  it,  that  our  defires  think  to  waft  us 
 as  faft  as  they  can  unto  it ;  and  growing  continually  in 
 flrength  and  fwiftnefs  by  their  own  motion,  the  gale 
 proves  fo  ftiff,  that  our  hearts  are  fwelled  therewith, 
 and  leave  no  room  for  any  other  thoughts,  nor  can  be 
 at  any  reft,  till  they  be  pofTeffed  of  it.  Thus  would 
 this  poor  man  have  taught  thofe  who  now  beheld  him, 
 though  they  had  never  read  a  word  in  their  own  fouls ; 
 for  his  mind  was  fo  imprefled  with  the  happinefs  which 
 he  heard  dwelt  at  Jerufalem,  that  he  was  not  able  to 
 difcharge  his  foul  at  any  time  of  thofe  thoughts  and 
 defires  which  lifted  him  up  from  the  ground,  and  told 
 him  they  would  carry  him  thither.  When  he  did  eat 
 or  drink,  Jerufalem  would  ftill  be  in  his  mouth ;  when 
 he  was  in  company,  Jerufalem  ftole  away  his  heart 
 from  them  ;  nay,  in  his  very  fleep  it  would  not  ftay 
 away,  but  he  was  wont  to  dream  fine  things  of  Jeru- 
 falem. But  that  which  makes  the  ftory  of  this  perfon 
 the  more  remarkable,  is,  that  it  was  toward  the  latter 
 end  of  the  year,  and  in  the  decay  of  all  things,  when 
 thefe  good  thoughts  began  to  fpring  up  in  his  foul. 
 When  the  Earth  had  removed  it  felf  a  great  way  from 
 the  Sun,  when  all  the  gallantry  of  the  fields  had  re- 
 igned its  place  to  Ice  and  Snow,  when  Charity  grew 
 -.old,  and  Chriftian  vertue  feemed  to  be  gone  back  to 
 ts  root,  when  the  ways  were  untrod,  and  few  or  no 
 "ravellers  upon  the  Road,  then  did  thefe  zealous  de- 
 res  begin  to  bud  in  the  heart  of  this  honeft  Country- 
 .  lan,  and  he  felt  fuch  a  vehement  heat,   urging  and 
 
 ftimu- 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 Simulating  his  bread,  that  he  could  remain  in  no  quiet 
 for  thinking  of  his  journey  to  that  fair  place,  which  had 
 been  fo  much  commended  to  his  love,  as  the  moft  flou- 
 ri/hing  and  glorious  that  ever  eye  beheld. 
 
 CHAP.   II. 
 
 Theearneft  defirc  of  the  Pilgrim  to  be  at  Jerufalem:  and 
 rvh.it  he  expected  to  find  there. 
 
 MUch  time  hefpent  in  confutation  with  himfelf 
 about  the  courfe  which  would  be  bed  to  hold 
 in  his  Travel  thither.  There  was  no  coft  fpared,  no 
 ftudy^  omitted  to  get  acquaintance  with  the  nearefl: 
 way  to  it ;  nor  did  he  ceafe  to  enquire  of  thofe  who 
 were  reputed  the  moft  skilful  guides,  that  he  might 
 obtain  a  true  information  of  every  paffage  in  the 
 Journey ,  which  he  ferioufly  refolved  to  undertake. 
 For,  though  the  weather  was  cold,  the  ways  dirty  and 
 dangerous,  and  the  Journey  he  was  told  would  be  long, 
 and  Company  little  or  none  could  be  expected  to  de- 
 ceive the  tedioufnefs  of  the  Pilgrimage,  yet  fo  great 
 were  the  ardors  which  he  felt  within  himfelf,  that  he 
 regarded  none  of  thefe  difcouragements ,  but  only 
 -  wiflied  that  he  might  be  fo  happy,  as  to  find  the  right 
 way,  though  he  went  alone  thither.  And  that  which 
 made  his  defires  the  more  forward,  was,  that  he  had  of- 
 ten heard  Jerujalem  by  interpretation  was  no  meaner 
 place  than  the  Vifion  of  Peace.  A  fight  that  he  had 
 been  long  purfuing  in  feveral  forms  and  fhapes, 
 wherein  it  had  often  feemed  to  prefent  it  felf  before 
 him,  but  could  never  court  it  into  his  embraces.  O 
 my  beloved  ( would  he  often  figh  within  himfelf )  O 
 
 my 
 
 5 
 
The  iParahk  of  the  Vilgrm. 
 
 my  hearts  defire  !  O  thou  joy  of  the  whole  earth !  In 
 what  corner  of  it  doft  thou  hide  thy  felf,  and  lieft  con- 
 cealed from  our  eyes  <  Where  arc  thou  to  be  found, 
 O  heavenly  good }  Who  will  bring  me  to  the  clear  vi- 
 fion  of  thy  face  C  Art  thou  company  only  for  the  Cce- 
 leftial  fpirits  1  art  thou  fo  referved  for  the  Angels 
 food,  that  we  poor  mortals  may  not  prefume  to  ask  a 
 tafte  of  thy  fweetnefs  i  What  would  not  I  part  withal 
 to  purchafe  a  fmall  acquaintance  with  thee,  and  to 
 know  the  place  where  thou  makeft  thine  abode? 
 Many  a  weary  ftep  have  I  taken  in  a  vain  chafe  of  thy 
 fociety.  The  hours  are  not  to  be  numbred  which  I 
 have  fpent  in  wifhing  and  labouring  to  lay  hold  on 
 thee,  and  (till  thou  flieft  away  from  me.  After  all  the 
 fweat  wherein  I  have  bathed  my  felf,  I  can  find  no- 
 thing, but  only  that  thou  art  not  here  to  be  found. 
 Thou  art  retired,  itfeems,  from  this  poor  World,  and 
 haft  left  us  only  a  fhadow  of  thee  •  for  when  we 
 think  to  clafp  thee  hard  in  our  arms,  the  whole  force 
 and  weight  of  our  fouls  doth  fall  upon  Nothing.  O  my 
 heart,  what  ails  thee  *  What  torments  are  thefe  which 
 fo  fuddenly  feize  upon  thee  i  Ah  cruel  pains,  the  re- 
 membrance of  which  prepares  a  new  rack  for  me ! 
 The  arm  of  a  Giant  would  not  ake  more,  if  with  all 
 his  might  he  fhould  ftrike  a  Feather,  than  my  heart 
 now  doth  but  to  think  of  the  anguifh  it  endured  when 
 all  the  ftrength  and  violence  of  its  deflres  were  met 
 with  emptinefs  and  vanity.  O  Jerufalem,  Jerufalem, 
 the  only  place  that  can  eafe  us  of  this  mifery !  the  place  ■ 
 where  the  beloved  of  my  foul  dwelleth,  the  Vifion  of 
 Peace,the  Seat  of  trueTranquillity  and  Repofe,how  fain 
 would  Ihavethefatisfaftion  of  being  in  the  lure  way 
 to  thy  felicity  !  This  is  all  the  peace  I  wifh  for  in  the 
 World.     No  other  happinefs  do  I  thirft  after,  as  every 
 
 thing 
 
T);e  far  able  of  the  filgrhn. 
 
 thing  can  teftifie  that  hath  been  privy  to  my  thoughts. 
 There  is  never  a  room  in  my  houfebut  hath  been  fil- 
 led with  the  noife  of  my  fighsand  groans  after  thee, 
 O  Jerufalcxi.  Every  Tree  that  grows  in  my  ground, 
 hath  thy  iweet  Name  ingraven  upon  it.  The  Birds  of 
 the  air,  if  they  can  underftand,  are  witneftes  how  in- 
 ctfTantly  my  foul  pants  and  longs  to  fly  unto  thee,  O 
 JerufdUm.  What  charitable  hand  will  guide  me  in 
 the  way  to  thy  pleafures  <  Who  will  bring  me  into  that 
 ftrong  City,  the  retreat  of  my  wearied  mind,  the  re- 
 fuge to  recruit  my  tired  fpirits,  the  only  place  of  my 
 fecurity,  my  joy,  my  life  it  felf  <  Wilt  not  thou,  O  God, 
 who  haft  led  me  to  the  knowledge  of  it,  who  haft  fil- 
 led me  with  thefe  defires,  and  haft  brought  me  into  a 
 difefteem  and  contempt  of  all  other  things  i  O  let  not 
 thefe  defires  prove  the  greateft  torment  of  all  unto  me, 
 for  want  of  their  fatisfaction.  O  forfake  not  this  foul, 
 that  hath  forfakenall  other  delights,  and  taken  its  leave 
 of  every  other  comfort,  that  it  may  go  and  feek  for  thee 
 at  Jerufalem. 
 
 CHAP.  III. 
 
 The  great  trouble  that  he  fell 'into >,  becaufe  of  the  diffe- 
 rent ways  which  he  wm  told  of  to  that  -place. 
 
 IN  this  manner  the  poor  man  was  wont  to  figh  out 
 his  foul, hoping  that  at  laft  the  Heavens  would  pleafe 
 to  hear  him,  and  favour  him  with  the  underftanding 
 of  that,  which  would  make  all  his  groans  ufelefs,  and 
 render  him  aschearful,  as  now  he  found  himfelf  dif- 
 confolate.  But  that  which  made  the  fulfilling  of  his 
 defires   more  difficult,    and  his    hopes   to   arrive 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim". 
 
 fo  flowly,  was  the  many  controverfies  which  were  in 
 thofe  days  fiercely  agitated,  and  the  huge  quarrelsthac 
 men  raifed  about  the  right  way  to  Jerufakm.    There 
 were  no  lefs  than  twenty  (  and  fome  fay  many  more  ) 
 very  different  parties  that    contended   fharply  with 
 each  other ;   and  every  one  of  them  confidently  affirm- 
 ed that  they  only  were  the  People  of  Sim  5  and  that  un- 
 lefs  he  joyned  himfelf  to  their  company  (in  which  alas 
 there  was  no  peace  at  all )  he  fhould  never  come  to 
 that  City  of  God  which  he  fought  after.     The  heads 
 of  thefe  divifions  made  the  World  believe  that  they 
 were  the  Torches  which  muft  light  them  through  the 
 darknefs  of  Error;    the  Pole  ftar  to  regulate  their 
 courfe  in  the  fearch  and  difcovery  of  Truth  ;   and  that 
 unlefs  men  ufed  their  Clue  (  which  God  knows  was 
 moft  wofully  entangled  )  they  fhould  never  fail  to  be 
 loft  in  the  Labyrinths  and  Meanders  of  Ignorance 
 and  Folly.    Nay,  to  fuch  a  degree  did  they  magnifie 
 themfelves,  as  if  Truth  and  they  had  been  born  at  the 
 fame  time,  or  at  leaft  had  come  of  Age  together.    It 
 feemed  to  be  a  Secret  till  they  appeared,  and  to  have 
 been  referved  from  the  beginning  on  purpofe  to  dif- 
 coverit  felftothemin  Markets  and  Gamps,  if  not  in 
 lewder  places.    The  moft  modeft  pretenfion  was,  that 
 Truth  was  but  a  ftripling,  or  rather  went  in  Side-coats, 
 till  it  came  to  their  Schools  to  be  ripened  into  the  wif- 
 dom  of  perfect  men.     They  fpake  of  the  affairs  of 
 Heaven,  as  if  they  were  Counlellors  of  State  in  that 
 Kingdom ;    and  opened  the  fecrets  of  Jefus  Chrift,  as 
 if  they  were  his  Confidents.    St.  John^  who  lay  in  his 
 bofome,  never  delivered  any  thing  with  greater  perem- 
 ptorinefs  than  thefe  men  did ;    and  had  it  not  been 
 that  they  wanted  his  Charity,   they  might  have  been 
 thought  by  moft  as  great  Oracles  as  they  thought 
 
 themfelves. 
 
The  ¥  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 themrelves.  There  feemed  no  difference  between 
 them  and  Prophets,  but  only  that  they  could  not  prove 
 their  million  •,  elfe  they  had  the  gift  of  boldnefs,  and 
 fell  not  fhort  in  their  pretences  to  infpiration.  In  this 
 conceit  they  thruft  into  the  World  a  great  number  of 
 books,  which  were  called  the  word  of  the  Lord,  and 
 cryed  up  as  the  Maps  of  that  heavenly  Country,  and 
 the  exaft  Charts  whereby  men  muft  ftecr  their  courle 
 if  ever  they  meant  to  come  fafely  thither.  Into  huge 
 Volumes  tnefe  Writings  fometimes  fwelled,  and  they 
 were  wont  to  colled  and  faggot  together  fo  many 
 things,  and  fo  vaftly  different ;  that  a  man  could  not 
 eafily  avoid  to  lofe  his  way  in  this  Wood,  while  he 
 was  feeking  his  way  to  Jerttfalem.  Especially  fince 
 they  never  forgot  to  furnifh  thefe  bundles  with  Come 
 lufty  flicks  wherewith  to  bang  their  adverfaries,  and 
 beat  them  down  as  low  as  Hell.  For,  in  the  midft  of 
 fucha  fearful  fcuffle,  there  wasfogreataduft  raifed, 
 that  no  man  could  tell  where  he  was,  nordifcern  any 
 thing  but  only  this,  that  he  was  not  in  the  way  to  the 
 Vifton  of  Pence. 
 
 I  need  not  relate  how  forcly  it  grieved  the  good 
 mans  heart  to  fee  fomany  different  ways,  every  one 
 of  them  laying  fo  high  a  claim  to  truth,  and  bitterly 
 reproaching  the  reft  as  damnable  Herefies.  He  could 
 bend  his  courfe  to  no  quarter,  but  he  was  in  danger  to 
 be  aflaulted  with  fome  queftion  or  other,  and  was  put 
 upon  his  defence  againft  fome  man  of  brafs,  who 
 thought  himfelf  worthy  to  be  one  of  the  Champions 
 of  Truth.  The  fpirit  of  common  Barretry  did  not 
 feem  a  greater  plague  to  him ,  than  thefe  vexatious 
 difputing  people.  The  fury  of  whom  likewife  was 
 fometimes  fo  violent,  that  he  thought  he  had  made  a 
 good  retreat,  if  he  were  not  bruifed,  and  almoft  beat 
 C  in 
 
1 6  The  Parable  of  the  fiigrirn. 
 
 in  pieces  by  their  rude  blows,  whofe  opinions  he  ad- 
 ventured to  thwart  by  any  ftrong  contradiction.  Nay, 
 they  all  taking  diftant  paths,  and  not  going  in  ftreight 
 and  parallel  lines,  but  in  oblique  and  crooked  ways, 
 which  croffed  each  other  very  frequently,  they  never 
 met  together ,  but  there  was  fuch  juftling  and  quar- 
 relling about  the  rode  to  Jerufalem^  that  no  man  could 
 be  near  them,  but  they  would  engage  him  to  take  the 
 one  or  the  other  part  in  the  Bloudy  Conflitf.  So  I 
 call  it ;  for  they  thought  that  they  did  GWgood  fer- 
 vice,  when  they  difpatched  one  of  their  enemies ;  and 
 that  they  made  him  a  Sacrifice,  when  they  fatisfied 
 their  own  beaftly  fury.  And  this  indeed  was  the  faddeft 
 thing  of  all  to  his  thoughts,  that  their  heat  and  paflion 
 they  had  the  confidence  to  baptize  into  the  name  of 
 Holy  Zealand  that  which  was  but  the  love  of  their  ovpn 
 opinion,  they  constantly  mifcalled  the  love  of  God  and 
 of  his  Truth.  Though  thofe  days  (  as  I  have  already 
 laid  J  were  very  frozen  and  cold,,  yet  they  cudgell'd 
 one  another  fo  long  till  they  grew  hot ;  and  then  they 
 cry'd,  The  weather  was  very  warm,  and  the  Sun  in 
 his  higheft  elevation.  God's  enemies  they  thoughc 
 they  oppofed  in  their  own ;  and  they  fancied  them- 
 felves  engaged  againft  fin,  while  they  were  buffeting  a 
 contrary  opinion.  There  was  no  heat  but  they  took  it 
 for  divine,  though  it  were  of  their  own  kindling  ;  and 
 fo  they  were  but  all  on  fire,  they  never  doubted  but 
 it  was  from  Heaven.  For  there  was  no  fin  in  thofe 
 days  like  Moderation,  and  no  vertue  comparable  to  a 
 furious  and  headlong  zeal.  But  yet  he  received  this 
 benefit  by  thofe  unhappy  feuds,  that  they  made  him 
 fometimes  think  it  was  no  mean  thing  in  the  efteem  of 
 others  as  well  as  himfelf,  for  which  there  were  fo  many, 
 and  fo  fiery  contenders.    The  Prize  he  hoped  would 
 
 prove 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  1 1 
 
 prove  glorious  which  had  drawn  into  the  field  fo  many 
 Combatants,  and  which  with  fuch  zealous  (ticklings 
 all  fides  fought  to  win.  The  affliction  alfo  which  he 
 felt  in  his  (pirit  when  he  beheld  than  To  fliarply  in- 
 gaged,  had  this  good  effect  upon  him ;  that  ic  made 
 him  more  fenfibly  admire  the  Goodnefs  of  God  which 
 had  preferved  him  from  lifting  himfelf  in  any  of  thofe 
 angry  parties,  andentring  into  thofe  never  enough  to 
 be  lamented  broils.  This  put  him  likewife  in  fome 
 hopes  that  he  would  not  fuffer  him  to  remain  long 
 without  the  knowledge  of  the  Truth,  who  had  fo 
 gracioufly  prevented  him  from  diverting  into  the  paths 
 of  falfehood.  This  degree  of  understanding  he  had 
 already  acquired;  That  Sweetnefs  and  Love,  Meek- 
 nefs  and  Peace,  were  the  Harbingers  to  Divine  know- 
 ledge, and  fince  they  were  become  his  Guefts ,  he 
 hoped  that  would  not  be  far  behind.  But  that  any  man, 
 who  knows  God  to  be  Love,  mould  imagine  that  he 
 will  dwell  in  a  mind  where  there  is  nothing  but  hatred 
 to  be  found,  feemed  a  kind  of  Prodigy  unto  him.  And 
 ic  did  quite  aftonim  him  to  fee  that  fo  many  men  did 
 dream  that  the  way  to  The  rifion  of  Peace  lay  through 
 the  field  of  ftrife  and  war ;  and  that  we  muft  come  tQ 
 live  together  in  endlefs  love  hereafter,  by  living  in 
 perpetual  frays  and  brawls  in  the  world  where  *e  now 
 
 C  i  CAP. 
 
Xl  The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 CHAP.  IV. 
 
 How  he  huffily  heard  ofafafe  Guide  unto  it :  rvith  a  true 
 Character  of  him. 
 
 AN  D  he  truly  who  is  not  wont  to  fruftrate  the  ex- 
 pectations of  fuch  well-minded  fouls,  did  not  ufe 
 much  delay  before  he  gave  him  a  fenfible  demonftra- 
 tion  of  that  which  he  already  believed.  He  found  that, 
 the  Gcd  of  Peace  could  not  make  himfelf  long  a 
 ftranger  to  men  of  peaceable  fpirits,  and  that  he  waits 
 fometimestodo  us  a  pleafure  there,  where  we  feared 
 to  meet  with  harm  and  mifchief.  For  falling  one  day 
 into  the  company  of  fome  perfonswho  were  difcourf- 
 ing  concerning  the  ftate  of  affairs  abroad,  he  hap- 
 pened to  light  on  that  which  he  verily  thought  their 
 vain  jangling  would  fright  and  drive  away.  There 
 were  many  debates  palled  about  the  feveral  opinions 
 that  were  then  on  foot,  and  about  the  grand  fuppor- 
 ters  of  them.  Some  leaned  to  this,  others  to  that ;  but 
 he  could  not  perceive  there  was  any  of  them  who  was 
 not  addicted  to  a  ScCt,,  and  did  not  feek  to  hear  the 
 voice  of  Jefus  Chrift  amidft  the  clamours  and  hideous 
 noifes  of  the  difputers  of  the  world.  At  laft  there  flood 
 up  an  old  man  that  was  a  perfect  ftranger  to  him,  wha, 
 told  them  that  in  his  judgement  (if  it  would  be  per- 
 mitred  him  to  deliver  it  boldly )  they  were  hugely 
 miftaken  who  marched  under  the  Banners  of  any  of 
 thofe  Leaders  in  defiance  to  the  reft  of  their  Brethren. 
 JerujAlem,  hefaid,  was  very  little  beholden  to  them, 
 which  was  a  City  at  better  unity  within  it  felf,  than  it 
 was  fuppofed  by  their  Enfigns ;  and  he  believed  the 
 way  to  that  place  would  be  found  to  be  more  peace- 
 able 
 
77;e  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 able  than  to  be  difturbed  with  the  found  of  Drums 
 and  Trumpets.  Their  zeal  (  he  continued  )  might  be 
 the  effect  of  little,  not  of  much  knowledge ;  and  their 
 confidence  the  nurfling  of  an  overweening  opinion  of 
 themfelves,  rather  than  the  iffue  of  a  found  judgement 
 and  clear  conception  of  things.  In  fine,  lie  told  them, 
 that  if  they  would  take  a  little  time  to  cool 'themfelves, 
 and  would  abate  10  much  of  their  preemption,  as  to 
 think  they  might  poiTibly  err,  he  doubted  not  but  to 
 bring  them  to  a  perfon,  who  ( though  obfeure  and  of 
 no  great  note  among  them )  fhould  make  them  confefs 
 he  gave  them  better  directions  than  they  ever  heard 
 of  in  the  way  t&Jerufaiem.  There  was  none  there  at 
 that  time,  but  either  out  of  curiofity,  or  fome  diiTatif- 
 faction  defired  inftantly  to  know  who  this  man  fliould 
 be,  and  in  what  place  he  hid  himfelf  from  the  world. 
 They  concealed  the  anger  which  they  conceived  at  his 
 free  reproof  >  and  having  rendred  him  faint  thanks  for 
 his  liberty  of  fpeech  (  profeiTTng  they  loved  an  open 
 enemy,  better  than  a  difiemblin^  friend)  the  very  love 
 of  Novelty  led  them  to  requefthim  to  bring  them  ac- 
 quainted with  this  rare  perfon.  That  is  a  very  eafie 
 matter  to  do,  replyed  the  old  man  j  for  he  is  one  that  is 
 convertible  enough,  andbefides  not  far  diftant  from 
 this  place  5  but  for  the  prefenr  I  mall  chufe  to  fparc 
 the  mention  of  his  name,  and  let  you  know  him  only  by 
 his  Character.  He  is  a  perfOn  then  that  is  altogether 
 difinterefied,  and  a  partaker  in  none  of  thole  Sects  and 
 Factions  that  are  among  us.  *  One  that  hath  sion  and 
 "  Jertifalem  more  in  his  heart  than  in  his  mouth,  and 
 ic  loves  to  do  more  than  to  talk.  But  when  hefpeaks, 
 "his  words  are  more  than  founds,  and  have  a  fting  in 
 "  them  which  pierces  the  very  heart.  If  you  did  but 
 ^  hear  him,  you  would  feel  that  he  leaves  a  '.rue  con- 
 
 ''punction. 
 
14  Tie  Ptrahie  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 {<  pan&ion  in  the  fpirit,  and  not  a  falfc  alarm  in  the  ear, 
 "His  head  is  gray,  though  not  his  hairs,  his  wifdorn 
 ei  makes  him  more  venerable  than  his  years  •,  he  knows 
 <;  better  how  to  live,  than  others  do  to  difpute ;  and  he 
 «  can  argue  more  for  peace,  than  they  for  their  opini- 
 cC  ons.  He  hath  Faith  enough  to  fave  h'tmfelf,  and  Cha- 
 ct  rity  enough  to  believe  that  others  may  be  faved  thac 
 4 '  are  not  in  all  points  juft  of  his  belief.  His  companion 
 "  is  equal  to  his  understanding,  his  meeknefs  equal  to 
 <f  his  zeal,  his  faith  is  matcht  with  charity,  his  love  to 
 "  his  neighbour  is  proportionable  to  his  love  to  God, 
 "  and  his  humility  and  modefty  is  equal  to  them  all.  He 
 "feemsto  me  to  be  a  piece  of  the  wracks  of  Ancient 
 ie  Chriftianity  ;  a  relique  of  the  Golden  Age  }  one  of 
 u  the  Children,  and  not  of  the  Apes  of  Antiquity.   He 
 rf  hath  efcaped  the  contagion  of  this  evil  age,   with- 
 "  but  flying  from  it ;  and  he  is  matter  of  more  ftrength, 
 <c  than  cuftom  is  of  force  and  violence.    The  general 
 "corruption  which  hath  overfpread  us ,    hath  not 
 "been  able  to  prevail  over  the  purity  of  his  temper. 
 "  And  all  the  wickednefs  which  could  not  but  touch 
 c<  him,    hath  not  yet  had  the  power  to  defile  or  fully 
 rt  him.  If  thofe  Worthies,  in  whofe  veins  the  blood  of 
 Ci  Chrift  did  run,  could  return  to  vifit  the  world  again ; 
 11 1  make  no  doubt  but  they  would  difcern  in  him  fuch 
 e€  marks  of  their  vertue,  that  they  would  confeis  him 
 "for  one  of  their  race,  and  embrace  him  as  an  Inheri- 
 "  tor  not  only  of  their  name,  but  of  their  noble  qua- 
 "  lities.    If  you  would  know  any  more  of  him,  you  had 
 better  learn  it  from  himfelf,  than  from  me  5  only  this 
 I  can  allure  you,  that  by  his  guidance  there  are  many 
 men  who  have  made  a  very  happy  progrefs  towards 
 Heaven.    And  if  you  fear,  that  when  yos  go  unto  him, 
 you  may  lofe  your  labour,  and  not  find  him,  or  that 
 
 you 
 
77*  iParabk  of  the  THgrtm.  1 5 
 
 you  may  find  him  little  at  leifure  ;  I  can  give  you  this 
 further  aflurance,  that  being  a  man  of  peace,  he  ftirs 
 but  little  from  home,  and  hath  but  little  company  nei- 
 ther that  frequents  his  houfe. 
 
 CHAP.   V. 
 
 The  Opinion  which  others  conceived  of  that  Guide :  and 
 his  addrejs  to  him.  ' 
 
 YOU  cannot  imagine  how  much  it  pleafed  our 
 Traveller  (for  fo  he  was  in  his  refolution )  to 
 hear  this  news,  and  how  much  he  thought  himfelf  be- 
 holden to  God  for  bringing  him  fo  fortunately  into 
 this  company  which  heftudied  rather  to  avoid.  With- 
 out any  complements  therefore ,  or  waiting  to  hear 
 what  others  would  reply,  he  immediately  offered 
 himfelf  to  be  conducted  to  the  fociety  of  this  excellent 
 Perfon  >  adding  withal,  that  if  the  reft  pleafed  not  now 
 to  go  along,  they  might  hear  from  him  when  he  (houlct 
 be  able  to  make  a  judgement  of  him,  in  what  efteem 
 he  was  to  be  held.  To  this  they  all  gave  their  aifenr, 
 and  were  not  a  little  glad  of  this  expedient  to  keep 
 out  of  the  acquaintance  of  him  whofe  character  they 
 nothing  liked.  But  theftrangerto  whom  he  commit- 
 ted himfelf,  would  not  ftir  from  that  place,  till  he  had 
 taken  him  alittleafideto  fpeak  with  him:  Where  he 
 let  him  know  how  unworthy  a  thing  he  held  it  to  de- 
 ceive any  mans  expectations  with  partial  relations, 
 which  made  him  that  he  could  not  endure  to  conceal 
 from  his  notice  a  matter  that  he  might  think  moft 
 worthy  his  confideration,  though  he  did  not  judge  it 
 fit  before  to  declare  it.  This  perfon  (faid  he  J  to  whom 
 you  are  about  to  repair,  I  muft  tell  you,   is  generally 
 
 decry'd 
 
i6  Tl?e  Parable  of  the  (Ptigrint. 
 
 decty'd  by  all  parties,  as  no  friend  to  Truth,  becaufe 
 he  is  no  great  (tickler  about  the  Queftions  that  have 
 vexed  our  unhappy  days.  Some  lay  that  he  is  indif- 
 ferent and  lukewarm  in  Religion.  Others  will  have 
 the  world  believe,  that  he  is  only  indued  with  a  great 
 meafure  of  Moral  Prudence,  but  hath  nothing  of  the 
 Spirit  in  him.  And  there  are  fome  who  do  not  ftick  to 
 brand  him  with  the  mark  ofHerefie,  though  (to  tell 
 you  the  truth )  I  verily  think  the  only  realon  is,  be- 
 caufe they  imagine  he  doth  believe  whatfoever  he  doth 
 not  fiercely  oppofe.  His  life  indeed  is  fo  holy,  and 
 without  blame,  his  carriage  fofweet  and  courteous,  his 
 converfation  fo  profitable,  that  I  am  enclined  to  think 
 fuch  good  things  cannot  fpring  from  a  bad  root ;  But 
 yet  there  are  that  fay,  The  poifon  is  the  more  dange- 
 rous which  is  fo  finely  gilded,  and  I  muft  leave  you  to 
 judge  for  your  felf,  and  either  to  flop  or  purfue  your 
 refolution  of  going  to  him,  as  thofe  things  well  weigh- 
 ed ,  you  fliall  fee  caufe  to  incline.  Here  the  good 
 man  made  a  paufe,  and  feemed  to  be  in  a  very  pendu- 
 lous condition,  till  the  ftranger  added,  I  muft  be  fo 
 juft,  as  to  remember  tofubjoyn  this  to  the  reft  that  I 
 have  faid ,  that  indeed  all  parties  next  to  themfelves 
 are  wont  to  commend  him  as  the  beft  of  all.  Now  I 
 thank  you  prefently  replyed  the  other,  that  you  did 
 not  omit  to  relate  that  observation,  for  it  brings  tp  my 
 mind  the  ftory  of  Thcmifiocles^  which  I  have  often 
 heard  our  Preacher  ufein  the  Pulpit,  to  whom  every 
 one  of  the  Captains  yielded  the  fecond  place  after  they 
 had  preferred  themfelves  to  the  firft,  and  was  there- 
 fore concluded  to  be  the  moft  worthy  of  all,  if  any 
 thing  but  felf- love  might  be  admi-tted  to  give  the  judg- 
 ment. Let  us  go,  I  befeech  you,  with  all  fpeed,  to  this 
 brave  man,  and  not  ftay  to  deliberate  any  longer.     For 
 
 I  remember 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrm.  \y 
 
 I  remember  alfo,  that  I  have  heard  very  wife  men  ob- 
 ferve,  that  there  was  never  any  perfon  that  advanced 
 excellent  things  in  the  World,  but  his  credit  and  repu- 
 tation was  blafted  by  thofe  who  were  unable  or  unwil- 
 ling to  be  fo  good  themfelves.  I  have  a  very  great 
 hope  that  this  is  the  man  whom  Heaven  hath  defigned 
 to  unfcale  my  eyes,  and  make  me  fee  the  way  to  Jeru- 
 falem.  Or  if  it  otherwife  pleafe,  yet  I  nothing  doubt, 
 but  being  wholly  bent  to  lead  a  pious  life,  God  will 
 have  fo  much  kindnefs  for  me,  as  not  to  let  me  be  dan- 
 geroufly  deceived,  nor  to  furter  a  greater  film  to  grow 
 over  my  fight.  Thefe  words  he  uttered  with  that  ve- 
 herr.ency  and  refolution  of  mind,  that  the  ftranger 
 thought  it  was  not  fit  to  hold  him  in  any  longer  con- 
 futation about  it,  efpecially  fince  he  faw  his  purpofc 
 founded  upon  fo  good  an  underftanding.  Taking 
 leave  therefore  of  the  reft,  who  were  but  too  glad  to 
 be  rid  of  them,  he  directed  him  to  the  houfe  of  this 
 Guide,  where  he  found,  as  he  had  been  told  before, 
 that  he  was  at  home,  and  had  not  one  creature  in  his 
 company.  After  a  very  few  civilities  palled  between 
 them,  and  fome  excufes  that  the  Countryman  made  for 
 his  boldnefs  in  interrupting  his  Meditations,  he  plain- 
 ly told  him  (  for  he  would  not  permit  any  long  Apolo- 
 gies) what  the  caute  was  of  thisaddrefs,  and  of  the 
 trouble  he  was  come  to  give  him.  I  am,  faid  he,  a  true 
 Lover  of  Jerufalem,  and  have  made  a  vow  to  take  a 
 Journey  to  that  place  ^  but  about  the  way  thither  I  am 
 fo  perplexed,  that  I  account  it  a  great  blefling  that  I 
 have  not  loft  my  wits,  and  am  not  become  unable  to 
 find  my  way  to  your  houfe.  One  cries  to  me,  uhere^ 
 another,  Lo  there  lies  the  Path  of  Life.  Some  would 
 have  me  go  thorow  the  Water,  and  be  baptized  again, 
 telling  me  the  Israelites  patted  thorow  the  Sea  to  go  to 
 D  C matin  j 
 
The  farahle  of  the  Pilgrim] 
 
 Canaan ;  others  feem  to  draw  me  through  the  Air,  and 
 teach  me  to  fly  aloft  in  towring  fpeculations  5  and  there 
 are  not  wanting  thofe  that  would  turn  me  into  a  Stone, 
 and  render  me  at  once  as  humble,  and  as  lumpilh  and 
 melancholy  too,  as  the  Earth  it  felf.  But  every  one  of 
 thefe,  me  thought,  did  lead  me  into  the  Fire,  and  I  felc 
 in  the  Water  it  felf  the  flames  of  Strife  and  Contention 
 about  my  ears,  which  made  me  that  I  durft  not  com- 
 mit my  felf  to  the  hands  of  thefe,  or  any  of  their  fel- 
 low-guides. But  hearing,  Sir,  that  you  are  of  great 
 abilities  to  direct  me,  and  that  you  are  a  man  of  Peace, 
 and  more  than  that,  a  man  of  good  will,  who  hath  a 
 ftrongpropenfion  to  do  good  >  I  am  come  to  make  ic 
 my  humble  requeft  unto  you,  that  if  it  be  true  which  is 
 reported  of  you,  you  will  do  me  the  favour  to  afford  me 
 fome  charitable  inftruftions  about  the  mod  paffable  way 
 to  Jerufaletn, 
 
 CHAP.    VI. 
 
 The  Acceptance  which  he  found  with  him :  and  how 
 plainly  the  Guide  dealt  with  him  about  the  difficulties 
 of  the  tray, 
 
 NOw  the  Enquirer  appearing  in  habit  like  a  Pil- 
 grim, having  a  very  inaocenr  countenance,  an 
 humble  behaviour,  and  ufing  fuch  language  as  figni- 
 fied  that  it  was  not  curiofity,  or  a  mind  to  try  the  skill 
 which  the  other  had  in  Foreign  pares,  but  a  real  defirc 
 to  travel,  which  had  brought  him  thither  •,  Anfwer 
 was  returned  by  him,  to  whom  he  made  his  applica- 
 tion, that  he  was  heartily  glad  to  meet  with  any  man 
 that  would  ask  the  way  to  Jcrvfalcm  -}    and  chat  he 
 
 thought 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Vilgrtm.  \$ 
 
 thought  he  read  in  his  face  fo  much  of  the  ferenity  of 
 his  mind,  and  the  fincerity  of  his  heart,  that  he  might 
 be  confident  he  came  with  a  real  defire  to  receive  fa- 
 tisfaction  about  it ;  But,  faid  he,  though  I  muft  needs 
 grant  that  I  am  furniihed  with  fome  knowledge  of  the 
 way  to  that  City,  yet  perhaps  I  may  fpare  my  pains  of 
 giving  you  any  directions  in  it,  becaufe  there  is  fome 
 reafon  to  think  you  will  not  be  at  the  pains  to  follow 
 them.  For  if  you  will  give  any  credit  to  my  words,  I 
 muft  let  you  know,  that  the  way  is  both  long,  and  alfo 
 full  of  many  and  great  difficulties;  and  that  there  are 
 many  ways  alfo  which  will  fcem  to  you  to  lead 
 (freight  to  it,  and  which  many  men  will  point  you  unto 
 as  the  next  road ;  which  if  you  mould  take#  will  lead 
 you  into  great  danger,  and  not  only  carry  you  a  great 
 deal  about,  but  perchance  conduct  you  to  the  quite 
 contrary  place,  and  end  in  your  utter  undoing.  I 
 would  wifh  you  therefore  to  confider  a  while,  whe- 
 ther it  be  an  advifable  thing  to  undertake  fuch  a  jour- 
 ney wherein  there  are  fo  many  hardfliips,  and  fo  many 
 crofs  paths,  A  journey  which  is  fo  tedious  alfo,  and 
 wherein  I  cannot  promife  you  (ecurity  from  frights, 
 thieves,  beatings,  and  fuch  ill  ufages  as  have  made 
 many  men  pofiefled  with  fuch  intentions  as  you  feera 
 now  to  have,  quite  to  lay  afide  all  thoughts  of  it,  and 
 to  fit  down  contented  at  their  own  homes.  And  after 
 all  this,  I  know  not  whether  you  will  yield  your  belief 
 to  all  that  I  mall  tell  you  of  the  way,  if  you  have 
 heard  fome  of  the  reports  which  are  fpread  of  me,  and 
 have  recdved  any  prejudice  at  all  againft  me,  which  I 
 am  fure  will  be  increaled  by  (ome  of  the  Precepts  that- 
 I  muft  give  you. 
 
 The  Pilgrim  was  fo  far  from  (hewing  any  tokens  of 
 
 difguft  at  this  difcourfe,    that  he  rather  difcovcred  an 
 
 D  2  inward 
 
|j;  The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrbn. 
 
 inward  pleafure  that  he  had  conceived  in  tlie  freedom 
 and  prudence  of  ic.     And  after  he  had  rendred  him 
 his  thanks  for  dealing  with  him  fo  impartially,  he  be- 
 feeched  him  that  he  would  not  think  it  fit  to  fpare  his 
 pains  which  he  had  already  with  no  fmall  fuccefs  be- 
 gun tobeftow ;    but  that  he  would  make  a  poor  foul 
 io  happy  as  to  let  it  know  from  that  mouth,  which  he 
 perceived  would  not  deceive  or  mif- guide  it,    that  dif- 
 ficult,  long,   and  dangerous  way  which  leads  to  Jeru- 
 falem.     I  am  not  ignorant  indeed  ( continued  he  )  how 
 much  many  men  are  wont  to  ftartle  and  boggle  ac 
 thofe  terrible  words ;  but  I  thank  my  God  they  itrike 
 no  terrour  at  all  into  my  heart,  ner  move  me  one  jot 
 from  the  refolution  which  I  hope  is  immoveably  fee- 
 led  in  it,  of  going  to  that  blefled  place.     For  fo  much 
 have  I  heard  of  the  glory  of  it,    that  I  am  apt  to  think 
 of  nothing  elfe ;  and  fo  I  may  but  come  in  fafety  thi- 
 ther at  the  laft,   I  matter  not  at  all  what  the  way  may 
 be  which  carries  me  unto  it.     Oblige  me  therefore 
 I  befeech  you  fo  much  as  to  be  my  Guide,  and  to  chalk 
 out  the  way  for  me.    lam  confident  you  will  not  re- 
 pent of  your  labour,  when  you  mail  fee  your  directions 
 obferved  with  as  much  faithfulnefs  and  care  as  they 
 are  by  you  delivered.    And  as  for  the  truft  which  I 
 repofe  in  your  skill  and  fincerity,  I  am  as  confident,  by 
 what  I  difcern  already,  that  I  (hall  as  little  repent  of  it, 
 as  you  will  of  your  taking  me  into  your  tuition.     I 
 doubt  not  at  all  but  I  (hall  be  better  taught  than  yet  I 
 have  ever  been ;   and  if  the  world  judge  otherwife,    I 
 befeech  you  do  not  take  me  for  one  that  meafures 
 mens  worth  by  their  efteem  with  the  vulgar  fort,  or  by 
 the  favour  they  have  obtained  to  be  commended  by 
 the  mouth  of  common  Fame.     TI  e  Vulgar  themfelves 
 have  whipc  her  about  the  World  as  a  lewd  Sti  ump.t ; 
 i  and 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 and  we  have  a  plain  faying,  That  the  common  Report 
 hath  too  often  a  blifter  upon  her  tongue.  Therefore 
 fpe3k  Sir,  I  intreat  you,  and  let  me  know  what  you 
 are  from  your  own  mouth,  and  not  from  other  mens. 
 For  as  I  never  intended  to  ti  uft  my  neighbour  to  chute 
 my  "-Opinions  for  me,  and  to  difpoie  of  my  Belief-  fodo 
 I  never  mean  to  refign  my  mind  to  be  (lamped  with 
 thofe  Characters  that  they  Anil  pleafe  to  make  of  men, 
 and  of  their  qualities.  I  never  yet  beheld  fo  many 
 Saints  asthey  have  created  and  worfliipped ;  nor  can 
 I  take  all  thofefor  Devils,  whom  they  are  pleafed  to 
 cleric  and  abominate. 
 
 CHAP.  VII. 
 
 The  Guide  discovers  his  fincere  and  upright  Intentions. 
 
 I  Cannot  relate  how  much  this  devote  perfon  was 
 over- joyed  to  hear  this  welcome  language  ^  but  the 
 Reply  which  he  made  him,  did  give  no  fmall  indi- 
 cations of  a  great  Contentment  which  he  took  in  the 
 Anfwer  he  had  received.  You  cannot  think  it  (  faid 
 he  )  a  greater  hsppinefs  to  be  instructed  by  me,  than 
 I  do  to  find  a  perfon  both  fo  defirous,  and  fo  capable 
 of  inft ruction.  It  gratifies  me  very  much,  I  aflure 
 you,  to  find  fuch  a  good  will  in  you  (  which  is  no 
 fmallftep  in  your  way  to  Jerufa'em')  especially  fince 
 I  fee  it  fo  unmoveable,  that  it  is  not  like  by  any  thing 
 which  may  happen  to  be  fo  much  as  ihaken.  Your 
 refolution  truly  is  admirable  >  and  I  cannot  tell  you 
 what  plearant  emotions  I  felt  within  me  to  behold  fo 
 little  amazement  appear  in  your  foul  at  the  dreadful 
 noife  of  trouble,  pains  and  danger.  You  are  excel- 
 lently 
 
lt  The  Tarabk  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 lently  qualified,  I  fee,  for  this  undertaking;  and 
 without  flattery  I  tell  you,  there  never  was  any  in 
 my  opinion  better  appointed  for  this  Journey,  if  you 
 can  but  maintain  fo  much  courage  and  patience  as  you 
 promifc  ;  and  will  without  quarrelling,  murmuring 
 or  troubling  your  felf  about  the  affronts  which 
 may  be  put  upon  you,  pafs  on  your  way,  as  if  you 
 met  with  nothing  that  did  difpleafe  you.  But  above 
 all,  it  highly  pleafes  me  to  hear  you  fay,  That  the 
 place  whither  you  would  go,  is  fo  much  in  your 
 heart,  that  you  think  of  it  more  than  any  thing  elfe  5 
 For  fomething  relating  to  that,  contains  the  greatcft 
 part  of  the  Advice  which  I  am  to  give  you.  And  as 
 for  my  felf,  fince  you  will  not  be  prepoffeiTed  and 
 foreftalled  with  the  common  Opinions,  and  the  voice 
 of  Fame,  I  will  be  fo  juft  as  to  lcr  you  know  the  very 
 ru*.  1. 18.  worft  of  me.  I  remember  that  Furius  Crefinius,  a 
 "p.  6.  Peafant  that  lived  near  to  Rome .,  was  defamed  in 
 ancient  times  by  many  people  of  that  City,  and  ac- 
 cuted  for  bewitching  the  Lands  of  his  Neighbours, 
 which  though  of  a  larger  extent,  were  not  wont  to 
 yield  fo  fair  a  Crop  as  his  few  Acres.  To  fuch  an 
 height  did  their  Jealoufies  and  Envy  arife,  that  a 
 C  liarge  was  drawn  up  againft  him5  and  /landing  in- 
 dicted of  fuch  unlawful  means  to  enrich  himfelf,  and 
 undo  others,  a  day  of  hearing  was  appointed,  where- 
 in he  was  to  receive  a  publick  Trial.  What  courfe  do 
 you  now  think  the  poor  man  took  to  confute  their 
 calumnies,  and  juftifie  his  own  innocence  <  Truly  no 
 other  but  this  would  he  refolve  upon  ;  to  bring  along 
 with  him  on  the  day  of  his  appearance  all  the  inftru- 
 ments  of  Husbandry ,  whereby  he  ufed  to  cultivate 
 the  ground,  and  to  fpread  them  before  his  Judges.  So 
 he  did,   and  made  his  defence  in  this  fort.    If  I  be 
 
 guilcy 
 
77;e  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  23 
 
 guilty  of  any  inchantment,  behold  I  here  fet  before 
 you  all  the  Topis  of  that  wicked  practice,  and  I  call 
 all  the  Gods  to  witnefs,  that  I  have  not  concealed  one 
 of  them.  If  there  be  any  Faith  in  man  you  may  be- 
 lieve me,  that  I  never  ufed  any  other  Wizzardy  to 
 make  my  Land  better  than  my  neighbours,  but  what 
 you  will  find  to  lie  in  thefe  Spades,  Ploughs,  and  Oxen, 
 together  with  this  my  good  Daughter.  Unlefs  you 
 will  reckon  a  great  deal  of  pains,  long  watchings,  and 
 much  fweat  to  be  fuch  unlawful  Drugs  and  Poifons,that 
 none  but  Witches  ufe  them  •,  and  thefe  I  muft  confefs 
 I  cannot  produce  in  open  Court,  nor  find  any  means 
 to  (hew  them  to  you.  He  faid  no  more,  but  it  was 
 enough  5  for  he  was  prefently  abfolved  by  the  fuffrage 
 of  all  the  Judges,  and  difmifled  with  thofe  commen- 
 dations of  a  good  Husband,  which  he  had  well  defer- 
 ved.  This,  Sir,  is  the  very  Picture  of  my  felf,  who 
 intend  now  to  make  you  my  Judge,  and  hope  for  as 
 favourable  a  fentence  from  you  before  whom  I  have 
 been  accufed,  and  as  much  mif-reported  as  this  honeft 
 man  whom  I  now  named.  I  am,  it  is  true,  a  perfon  of 
 fmall  capacity,  and  lefs  learning.  There  are  many  of 
 my  neighbours,  to  whom  I  freely  yield  the  precedence, 
 who  enjoy  far  greater  meafurcs  of  wifdom  and  know- 
 ledge, and  exceed  me  as  much  in  fuch  Talents  as  the 
 compafs  of  Furitu  his  Land  was  exceeded  by  theirs 
 that  bordered  upon  it.  But  yet  foitis,  that  by  the 
 bltflingof  God  upon  my  labours,  there  are  many  vir- 
 tuous Minds  and  Souls  truly  large  and  generous,  that 
 acknowledge  themfelves  to  ftand  indebted  for  what 
 they  are  to  my  care  ■  and  that  arc  efteemed  by  thofe 
 that  know  them  to  be  of  a  more  excellent  temper  than, 
 thofe  who  have  been  managed  by  many  of  my  litigU 
 cus  neighbours.     This  hath  gained  me  too  many  evil 
 
 eyes, 
 
x4  The  V arable  of  the  TiigM 
 
 eyes,  and  I  am  thought  to  ufe  Tome  Arts  of  Fafcination 
 whereby  to  allure  the  beft  difpofitions  into  my  ac- 
 quaintance and  fociety.     Then  they  will  have  it,  thac  I 
 mingle  fubtil  potions  for  them,  and  that  they  imbibe 
 fuch  crafty  Doctrines  from  me,  as  teach  them  all  ways 
 of  rendring  themlelves  more  fair  and  plaulible  than  any 
 others  in  their  whole  behaviour,  in  order  to  the  be- 
 witching of  more  men  to  become  their  Difciples.    This 
 is  the  beft  language  they  will  allow  to  the  good  man- 
 ners wherein  1  ftudy  to  educate  them ;   for  their  envy 
 and  vexation  will  not  fuffer  them  to  give  their  holy 
 life  the  name  of  Piety,  though  all  acknowledge  it  car- 
 ries the  (hew  of  better  fruit  than  is  brought  forth  by 
 the  lazy  and  idle  pretenders  to  Faith  and  Devotion. 
 But  God  knows  how  far  I  am  from  teaching  any 
 thing  but  the  naked  and  undifguifed  practice  of  real 
 Godlinefs.     And  youfliall  knowalfo  how  little  I  am 
 guilty  of  evil  defign,  or  finifter  method  of  winning  to 
 my  felf  Difciples.    For  I  will  lay  before  you  the  plain, 
 fimple  and  unartificial  Rules  that  I  give  unto  them  ; 
 which  will  appear  to  be  as  far  remote  from  all  fubtil- 
 ty  and  craft,  as  the  Plough,  the  Spade,  and  the  Har- 
 row are  from  incantation,  fpells,  and  fociety  with  in- 
 fernal fpirits.     All  that  I  beg  of  you  to  the  making  of 
 you  profit  under  my  hand,  and  to  reap  an  abundant 
 fruit  by  my  labour  to  inftrucl  you,  is  that  you  will  con- 
 tribute fome  of  your  own  pains  to  be  j  )yned  with 
 mine  •,   and  that  you  will  ufe  your  beft  diligence  both 
 to  receive  and  under/tend  thofe  feeds  of  Knowledge 
 that  I  (hall  fow  in  your  mind  •    and  to  keep  them  fafe, 
 that  they  may  not  be  loft  when  they  are  entertained. 
 A  little  more  patience  alfo  I  muft  not  forget  to  require 
 of  you  than Crefiniut demanded  (fori  cannot  fo  loon 
 produce,  as  he  did,  all  the  inftruments  1  muft  ufe  £>r 
 
 your 
 
Tin  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 your  good)  and  then  I  nothing  doubt,  but  if  you  pur- 
 fuc  yout  defign  according  to  thofe'dircctions  and  marks 
 that  I  wall  give  you,  they  will  not  fail  at  laft  to  bring 
 you  to  the  bleffed  Place,  on  which  you  have  fee  your 
 heart. 
 
 CHAP.  VIII. 
 
 He  begins  his  advice:  and  after  the  grand  Direction, 
 which  contains  many  of  the  reft  5  he  gives  him  fun- 
 dry  preparatory  Counjels.  And  above  all)  tells  hint 
 that  he  muft  be  provided  with  ajlrong  Refolution. 
 
 YOU  (hall  find  me  obedient,  replyed  the  Pilgrim, 
 in  all  things  unto  your  Precepts  >  for  truly  my 
 heart,  as  you  are  pleafed  to  remember,  is  very  much 
 upon  Jerusalem.  And  fince  it  touched  me  with  no 
 fmall  joy  to  hear  you  fay,  That  there  was  ibmething 
 belonging  to  this  affection  I  have  for  Jerufalem,  which 
 would  comprehend  a  great  part  of  the  Directions  you 
 had  to  give  mc  about  the  way  thither,  if  it  will  not 
 look  like  the  arrogance  of  directing  you  how  to  place 
 your  Infti  uctions ;  let  me  be  fo  bold  as  to  deiire  before 
 you  fay  any  thing  elfe,  that  I  may  know  what  the 
 general  advice  is  which  you  have  to  beftow  upon  me. 
 It  is  well  done,  replyed  the  Guide,  that  you  have  puc 
 me  in  mind  of  that  paflage  in  my  former  difcourfe, 
 and  I  am  obliged,  I  think,  to  praife  you  for  it,  both  be- 
 caufe  it  argues  that  you  diligently  attend  to  what  I 
 fpeak ,  and  becaufe  it  cannot  be  better  placed  than 
 where  you  would  have  it3  in  the  very  entrance  of 
 thofe  Directions  that  you  are  to  carry  along  with  you. 
 And  to  make  my  counfel  the  more  portable,  and  to 
 E  be 
 
2  £  The  Parable  of  the  filgim. 
 
 be  comprifed  in  as  fmall  a  room  as  can  be ;  that  which 
 I  mean  is  nothing  elfe  but  this.  As  you  pafs  along  in 
 the  way  that  I  (hall  tell  you  of,  it  will  be  of  great  ufe 
 to  you  to  have  thefc  few  words  always  in  your  mind, 
 and  (ometimes  upon  your  tongue,  I  AM  NOUGHT, 
 7  have  nought,  I  tie  fire  nought ,  but  only  to  he  in  fafety 
 with  Jefus  at  Jerufalem.  This  one  fentence  you  mall 
 fee  hath  fo  much  in  its  bowels,that  if  you  draw  forth  the 
 vertue  of  it,and  diligently  obferve  it,  my  life  for  yours, 
 you  (hall  not  fail  in  a  competent  time  to  arrive  at  the  top 
 ofyourdefires. 
 
 Indeed,  faid  the  Filgrimi  methinks  I  feel  that  I  have 
 received  very  great  inftru&ion  already  from  you,  and 
 I  did  not  think  to  have  learned  fo  much  in  fo  (hort  a 
 fpace,  and  by  fo  fmall  a  company  of  words.  Sure  you 
 have  given  me  fome  spirits,  and  the  very  extract  of 
 things,  elfe  I  could  not  have  fo  fuddenly  felt  the  power 
 ofthefe  words  diffufing  it  felf  through  my  whole  foul. 
 I  am  ftrangely  refrefhed  by  them,  and  they  have  gi- 
 ven me  fuch  a  tafte  of  your  skill,  that  I  perceive  you 
 can  inftantly  reach  my  heart  when  you  pleafe  but  to 
 open  your  mouth  ;  and  if  I  were  half  dead,  I  perfwade 
 my  felf  you  could  revive  me  in  a  moment.  But  yet  I 
 believe  that  I  mould  be  the  more  inlightned  by  them, 
 and  better  know  their  ufe  5  if  I  might  be  beholden  to 
 you  for  an  account  of  the  fecrets  of  which  they  are 
 compounded,  and  under/land  all  the  things  that  are 
 contained  in  them.  Do  me  the  favour  therefore  I 
 befeech  you  to  open  the  fenfe,  and  difclofe  all  the 
 force  of  thofe  words,  that  I  may  know  what  meaning, 
 you  have  involved  in  fo  brief  a  fentence.  You  mall 
 not  Jong  be  ignorant  of  that,  faid  the  Guide ,  if  you 
 will  but  have  the  patience  to  attend  a  while  to  what 
 follows  as  a  good  preparatory  to  that  difcourfe,  and  to 
 
 all 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  17 
 
 all  the  reft  chac  concerns  your  fafe  paflage  to  Jerufalem. 
 I  muft  advife  y-ou,   before  you  enter  up  ^n  fo  long  a 
 journey,  or  make  any  further  inquiries,  to  fee  that  your 
 bedy  be  in  good  health,    left  you  (hould  fall  into  any 
 fuch  ficknels  by  the  way  as  might  prove  dangerous 
 and  fatal  to  you.     And  for  that  end  I  would  alfo  wifh 
 you  to  take  fomePhyfick,   the  better  to  prepare  your 
 ictf  for  Travel,    and  to  disburden  nature  of  thofe  ill 
 humours  wherewith  you  may  abound,    which  will  ac 
 leaft  indifpofe  you,  and  make  you  lazy  and  foon  weary, 
 if  they  be  not  timely  difcharged  and  carried  away. 
 Now  the  beft  counfels  that  I  can  give  you  of  this  kind, 
 areihefc  that  enfue.     Firjl,  I  would  have  you  purge 
 your  mind  of  all  unworthy  thoughts  of  God,    and  per- 
 fwade  your  felf  that  he  is  very  good,   a  lover  of  fouls, 
 and  exceeding  defirous  to  fee  them  at  Jerufalem.     Be 
 fure  you  leave  not  fo  much  as  a  fufpicion  of  his  wil- 
 lingnefs  to  make  you  happy,    and  to  afford  you  fuffici- 
 ent  means  to  attain  your  end.     For  you  will  not  be 
 able  to  ftir  a  foot  in  your  way,    if  you  bear  any  jealou- 
 fies  about  you,   that  God  may  not  favour  your  under- 
 taking, nor  go  along  with  you.     You  have  been  bred, 
 it's  like,  inagreatdetcftationofs#/><rr/?/>/0/?,  and  may 
 have  heard  fo  many  declamations  out  of  the  Pulpit 
 againft  it,    that  you  may  think  it  thunder-ftuck  ma- 
 ny years  ago:  but  let  me  tell  you,  that  if  you  cherifti 
 not  good  thoughts  of  God  in  your  mind,  all  your  Re- 
 ligion  will  degenerate  into  this  fpurious   and  bafe- 
 born  devotion.     Inftead   of  that   free  and  friendly 
 converfe  that  ought  to  be  maintained  between  Goci 
 and  his  creatures,  you  will  only  flatter  him  in  a  fervile 
 manner,  and  bribe  him  not  to  be  your  enemy.     Do  not 
 imagine  that  I  abufe  this  word  Superftition,    or  that 
 you  are  in  no  danger  to  fall  into  it-,    for  there  are 
 E  2  none 
 
X  8  Tl?e  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 none  more  guilty  of  it,  than  they  that  feem  to  be  mod 
 abhorrent  from  it.     Did  you  never  obferve  what  a 
 terrible  Image  of  God  there  is  erected  in  moft  mens 
 minds,    and  how  frightful   their  apprehenfions  are 
 when  they  look  upon  it  i    Never  was  there  any  Devil- 
 more  cruel,    or  fought  more  to  devour,  than  they  have 
 punted  him  in  their  fouls.     How  is  it  poflible  then 
 they  (hou'd  addrefs  themfelves  with  any  confidence 
 and  p'.eafure  to  him  <    How  can  they  entertain  any 
 cheavful  and  friendly  fociety  with  a  Being  which  ap- 
 pears in  a  d:efs  fo  horrible  to  them?    And  yet  wor- 
 ship him  they  mud  for  fear  of  incurring  his  dirplea-. 
 fure,    and  left  their  negle&s  of  him  mould  rouze  up 
 his^anger  againft  them.     Now  between  this  neceflity 
 of  coming  to  him,    and  that  fearfulnefs  to  approach 
 him ,   what  can  there  be  begotten  but  a  forced  and 
 conftrained  devotion ;    which,    becaufe  they  do  not 
 love,   they  would  willingly  leave,    did  not  the  dread 
 and  horrour  they  have  in  their  fouls  of  him,  drag  them 
 to  his  Altars  i  And  what  are  they  wont  to  do  there  i 
 Truly  nothing  but  make  faces,    and  whine,   and  cry, 
 and  look  as  if  they  were  going  to  execution  ;    till  they 
 can  flatter  themfelves  into  fome  hopes  that  he  is  moved 
 by  thefe  pitiful  noifes,   and  forced  fubmiflions,   to  lay 
 afide  his  frowns,  and  caft  a  better  afpeel  upon  them. 
 But  then  his  nature  remains  the  fame  ftill,    and  they 
 .fancy  that  he  delights  in  the  blood  of  men-    though 
 'for  that  time  he  was  pleafed  to  fmile  a  Utile  upon 
 them.     And  therefore  they  are  conftrained  to  renew 
 thefe  flavifh  devotions,   and  to  fawn  again  Hpon  him, 
 that  they  may  purchafe  another  gracious  look  from 
 him.     In  this  circle  do  thefe  poor  wretches  fpend  their 
 days,   and  advance  not  one  ftep  toward  Jerufalem. 
 For  as  there  can  be  little  comfort  to  them  I  mould 
 
 think 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim.  29 
 
 think  in  fuch  grim  (miles :  So  you  cannot  imagine  iliac 
 it  can  be  acceptable  to  God  to  fee  men  crouch  in  this 
 fafhion  to  him,  and  out  of  meer  fear  aflfjrd  him  their 
 unwilling  probations.  No,  this,  if  any  thing  in  the 
 'world,  is  that  which  ought  properly  to  wear  the  name 
 of  Superjlttion.  A  devotion  which  hath  no  inward 
 fpring  in  the  heart,  no  life  nor  (pint  in  it ;  and  by  con- 
 fcquence  is  void  of  all  favour  anJ  tafte  to  them  that 
 perform  it.  It  is  fottifhnefs  to  think  that  God. will  be 
 contented  with  that  which  hath  no  better  original 
 than  outward  compulfion  ,  and  in  its  own  nature  is 
 dead  and  hcartlcfs,  dry  and  infipid  $  and  yet  no  better 
 icrvice  will  you  prefent  him  withal,  unlets  you  frame 
 alovely  fair  image  of  him  in  your  mind  i  and  always 
 rcprefent  him  to  your  felf  as  rrroft  gracious,  k'uid,  and 
 lender- hearted  to  his  creatures.  Let  this  therefore 
 be  your  firft  care,  not  only  to  form  fuch  a  beautiful 
 Idea  of  him  ;  but  alfo  to  fettle  and  fix  it  fo  fiimly  in 
 your  heart,  that  nothing  may  be  able  to  pull  it  out. 
 Tien  will  you  be  prepared  to  follow  all  my  other 
 counfels,  and  mod  chearfully  alfo  reflgn  your  felf  to 
 the  obedience  of  the  hardeft  commands.  This  will 
 make  you  absolutely  give  tp  your  felf  to  the  Divine 
 Will,  and  to  embrace  it  freely  alfo,  as  moft  to  be  cho- 
 fen,  and  that  for  it  felf  and  its  own  innate  goodne(s. 
 You  will  think  tha-  nothing  but  good  can  come  from 
 this  good  God,  and  therefore  you  will  fubmit  to  his 
 Law  s  as  loving  commands,  and  not  as  imperious,  tyran- 
 nical impofitions.  You  will  deny  your  felf  in  any- 
 thing that  he  would  have  you,  that  you  may  be  made 
 better  than  your  felf,  by  becoming  like  to  him.  Buc 
 other  wife  I  muft  tell  you  (and  it  is  no  new  obfervatien 
 neither )  that  if  your  conceptions  of  him  be  not  fuch  as 
 make  you  heartily  love  him  ;  as  you  will  ferve  him 
 
 only 
 
2  o  Tk  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 only  with  a  forced  obedience,  fo  you  will  obey  him 
 •  with  a  fordid  and  niggardly  affecYion.  You  will  be 
 very  fcanty  and  fparmg  in  chofe  dudes  which  are  of 
 greateft  moment ,  and  mod  pleafing  to  him  ;  and  ftudy 
 only  to  cxprefs  your  liberality  in  things  of  lighter  con- 
 cernment, and  iuch  as  are  moft  pleafmg  to  your  felf. 
 Nay,  things  of  your  own  deviling  you  will  be  more  rea- 
 dy to  heap  upon  him  as  fo  many  courtefies  whereby  you 
 fhall  oblige  him,  than  to  render  him  thofe  fervices 
 that  are  appointed  by  himfelf,  which  will  be  the  lefs 
 grateful,  becaufe  they  are  his  will  whom  you  cannoc 
 love.  This  is  ever  the  fruit  of  hard  and  penurious 
 thoughts  of  God,  that  they  fhrivel  np  mens  hearts 
 too,  and  make  them  needy  and  penurious  in  the  ex- 
 preifions  of  their  love  and  obedience  to  him  •  and  more 
 forward  to  give  him  any  thing  than  that  which  he  mi.  ft 
 defires. 
 
 But  1  think  I  might  have  lefc  you  to  deduce  thefe 
 things  your  felf,  who  have  a  capacity  I  fee  for  greater 
 matters ,  and  therefore  I  fhall  Ihorten  the  reft  of  thel'e 
 kind  of  counfels,  and  forbear  all  long  difcourfes  and 
 Comments  upon  them.  Secondly,  Then  it  muft  be 
 your  care  when  your  mind  hath  recovered  right 
 thoughts  of  God,  to  purifie  your  intentions  throughly, 
 and  to  fee  that  they  be  clear  and  unfpotctd  in  his 
 fight :  Spread  your  very  heart  before  him,  and  defire 
 him  that  you  may  have  his  love,  and  that  he  would 
 deal  with  you,  as  you  fincerely  aim  at  nothing,  but 
 only  to  become  what  he  would  have  you.  Tell  him 
 that  you  mean  in  the  greateft  fimplicity  of  your  foul 
 to  do  his  will.  Proteft  to  him  a  thoufand  times  that 
 you  defire  above  all  things  to  know  what  that  gooc> 
 that  perfect  and  acceptable  will  of  his  is.  Let  him 
 know  that  you  arefo  paflionately  bene  to  pleafe  him, 
 
 thac 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 that  you  would  not  ftick  to  purchafe  the  undcrftand- 
 ingof  his  pleafure  at  the  rate  of  the  whole  world,   if* 
 it  was  in  your  difpofal.     This  will  prepare  you  in   the 
 third  place,  to  throw  out  the  (lug  ;ilh  humour  which  is 
 in  all  our  natures,    and  todifpofe  your  will  with  true 
 fetvour  to  attend  this  bulinefs  of  learching  out  the 
 will  of  God.     Ingagey.w  felf  as  folemnly  as  you  an 
 to  be  very  diligent  in  rinding  out  the  truth.     Perfwade 
 your  mind  not  to  reft  contented  with  that  which  firft 
 offers  it  felf  to  your  hands,    but  to  examine  and  prove 
 all  things   and  then  to  hold  faft  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  reafon  of 
 which  is  no  other  but  this,   that  in  the  one  way  we 
 make  a  purchafe  of  them  at  a  cheap  rate,    or  rather 
 have  them  for  nothing,    but  in  the  other  they  will 
 not  come  fo  eafily,   butcoft  no  fmall  pains  to  acquire 
 them.    There  is  a  kind  of  impatience  alfo  in  tome 
 natures  which  is  not  able  to  fuflferany  delays:    And 
 this  being  joyned  with  a  foftnefs  and  delicacy  which 
 is  a  fworn  enemy  to  all  manner  of  trouble  and  pains  • 
 it  renders  men  very  willing  to  fpjre   themfelves  the 
 length  and  tedioufnefs  of  an  enquiry,  together  with 
 all  the  difficulties  of  a  choice.     Hence  it  comes  to  pafs 
 that  they  love  at  firft  fight,    and  fuffer  others  to  chufe 
 their  belief  for  them  :    And  then  afterwards  they  re- 
 tain by  cuftom  and  prefcription ,   that  which    they 
 took  but  by  chance  and  preoccupation.     Make  an 
 eflay  therefore  of  the  patience  which  you  promife,    in 
 your  whole  Journey,    at  the  very  entrance  of  it ;  and 
 let  your  diligence  to  know  the  will  of  God  be  an 
 earneft  of  that  you  mean  to  ufe  in  the  doing  of  it. 
 And  as  I  would  have  you  free  your  felf  from  th'.s  lazy 
 
 credulous 
 
3 1  Tl?e  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 credulous  humour ;  fo  let  it  be  your  next  care  to  rid 
 your  mind  of  its  oppofite,  obftinate  Incredulity.  Lee 
 not  the  cure  of  one  ficknels  be  the  caufe  of  another- 
 nor  that  which  takes  away  your  fofenefs  and  eafinefs 
 to  believe,  render  you  hard  and  impenetrable  by  all 
 the  impreflions  of  truth.  Imploy  the  thoughts  which 
 I  would  have  you  fpend  in  ferious  inquiry,  to  poffefs 
 your  mind  with  a  ftrong  perfwafion  of  the  certainty 
 of  Chiiftian  Religion,  and  with  a  right  undemanding 
 of  the  true  defign  of  that  glorious  Revelation.  For 
 that  both  gives  you  fuch  a  profpect  of  the  Blefled 
 place  you  are  going  to,  as  no  where  elfe  can  be  met 
 withal  j  and  directs  you  to  fuch  a  courfe  of  real  piety, 
 as  plainly  leads  unto  it.  And  the  more  confident  you 
 grow  that  Jel'us  is  the  Son  of  God  fas  the  voice  from 
 Heaven  vvitneffedj  that  he  is  the  Lord  of  Life,  and  the 
 King  of  Glory  .  the  furer  will  you  tread  all  the  way 
 you  go,  and  the  lefs  danger  there  will  be  of  {tumbling  : 
 The  founder  alfo  and  the  more  healthful  will  you  grow, 
 fo  as  not  to  faint,  much  lets  to  forfake  the  Chriftian 
 courfe.  And  next  to  this  I  befeech  you  ufe  the  great- 
 eft  diligence  to  provide,  that  your  Faith,  which  is  to 
 do  all  things  in  your  Journey,  be  not  it  felf  infected 
 with  the  common  difeafe  of  (loth  and  idlenefs.  Be 
 fure  to  purge  your  foul  from  all  the  droufie  andphleg- 
 matick  opinions  you  may  have  about  it  •,  which  ftifle 
 and  choak  the  very  fpirit  and  life  of  it.  Do  not  ceafe 
 till  you  have  freed  it  of  all  obstructions,  and  rendrcd 
 it  fo  active  and  vigorous,  that  you  can  be  confident 
 in  its  own  nature  it  will  neceffarily  produce  an  holy 
 Life.  Suffer  it  not  to  reft,  no  not  in  Chnft  himfelf, 
 till  it  animate  you  to  a  free  and  chearful  obedience  to 
 all  his  commands.  Let  it  give  your  foul  a  fenfe  that 
 the  whole  of  Religion  is  comprehended  in  this  one 
 
 powerful 
 
The  Tdrable  of  the  Pilgriml  }  J 
 
 powerful  word.  Le  t  it  feem  as  a  point  from  whence  all 
 the  lines  of  your  duty  are  drawn :  like  a  Fire  in  the 
 middle  of  a  room,  fending  out  its  heat  on  every  fide  in 
 an  ardent  love  of  God,  and  of  your  Brethren.  Efteem 
 it,  I  mean,  fuch  an  hearty  perfwafion  of  the  Truth  and 
 Goodnefs  of  all  that  Chrift  hath  fpoken,  that  by  the 
 force  and  vertue  of  it  you  become  obfequious  to  his  will 
 in  all  things. 
 
 And  having  effected  this,  then  fearch  your  Con- 
 fcience  very  narrowly  to  find  out  all  the  fins  whereof 
 you  ftand  guilty  :  fome  of  which  may  lurk  fo  fecurely, 
 or  look  fo  demurely,  that  a  Faith  which  is  not  very  bu- 
 fie,  may  either  not  efpie  them,  or  let  them  pafs  for  no 
 offences.  Thefe  muft  all  be  purged  out  and  left  be- 
 hind, as  things  that  can  by  no  means  be  permitted  to 
 go  along  with  you.  And  for  that  end  let  me  advife 
 you  to  unload  your  foul  of  them  all,  by  humble  Cm- 
 fe/Jion :  and  if  any  of  them  lie  as  an  heavy  burden  upon 
 you ,  to  repair  to  your  fpiritual  Phyfician ,  that  he 
 may  help  by  his  Counfel  and  prefcriptions  to  eafe  you 
 of  them.  And  in  the  laft  place,  Let  all  thefe  be  at- 
 tended with  a  ftrong  Refdution^  that  though  your  fins 
 fhould  follow,  and  call  after  you,  and  beg  to  have  but 
 one  word  with  you ;  they  (hall  be  fo  far  from  receiving 
 any  entertainment,  that  you  will  not  fo  much  as  enter 
 into  fpeech  with  them,  nor  liftento  the  voice  of  any  of 
 their  temptations.  I  will  not  deny  but  that  it  is  a  dif- 
 ficult thing  not  to  lend  fo  much  as  a  good  look  to  an  old 
 acquaintance  5  yet  it  will  appear  much  otherwife  to 
 thofc  who  confefs  their  fins  fo  as  to  hate  them,  and  to 
 purge  therafelves  from  all  affeftion  to  them.  That 
 therefore  you  muft  give  me  leave  to  fubjoyn  to  this 
 Advice,  That  you  do  not  content  your  felf  with  fuch 
 Phyfickascleanfeth  only  the  firft  paflages,  and  carries 
 F  away 
 
j4  Tk  Taralle  of  the  Tdgrim. 
 
 away  no  more  than  the  groffer  humours  out  of  the 
 greater  channels  of  your  life  i  but  that  you  adminifter 
 iiich  as  will  fearch  into  the  furtheft  part  of  your  foul, 
 and  cleanfe  the  fpirit  from  all  its  defilements.  You 
 muft  not  leave  behind  fo  much  as  a  good  opinion  of 
 any  evil  way.  Not  the  fmalleft  kindnefs  for  it,  or  if  it 
 be  pollibie  any  inclination  to  it  muft  be  fuffered  to  re- 
 main. For  this  you  know  undid  no  lefs  than  fix  hun- 
 dred choufand  Travellers  to  Jerufalem  in  ancient  times, 
 and  left  all  their  carkaffes  buried  in  the  Deferts  ;  wlio 
 left  Egypt,  as  you  now  are  going  to  forfake  the  World  ; 
 but  it  was  in  their  Bodies  only,  and  not  in  their  hearts 
 and  affections.  Their  mouths  watered  ftill  at  the  re- 
 membrance of  the  Flefh  and  Coleworts,  the  Garlick 
 and  Onions :  and  they  had  a  fecret  inclination  which 
 could  not  be  long  concealed,  to  return  to  thofe  enjoy- 
 ments, which  they  had  abandoned.  They  loved  the 
 Country  from  whence  they  were  departed,  though 
 they  hated  the  bondage:  and  it  was  not  fo  much  the 
 evil  cuftoms,  as  the  cruelties  of  that  Land,  which 
 made  them  figh  for  deliverance.  Which  is  but  the 
 type  and  picture  of  thofe  perfons  now,  who  leave  their 
 finfnl  ways  and  practices,  refolving  never  to  return 
 to  them  5  but  yet  they  bear  them  a  great  good  will , 
 and  could  be  very  well  pleafed  if  they  could  gain  a 
 permiflion  to  enjoy  them,  and  not  be  damned  to  the 
 bargain.  They  are  often  carting  a  kind  and  favoura- 
 ble look  towards  them;  it  tickles  them  to  think  how 
 happy  they  (hould  be  if  they  could  fometimes  keep 
 them  company,  and  fuffer  nothing  by  it.  It  is  not  their 
 fins  that  they  are  fallen  out  withal,  but  fome  of  their 
 followers  that  wait  upon  them :  their  fmiles  and  fa- 
 lutes  they  receive  with  joy,  and  fear  nothing  but  the 
 fling  which  appears  in  the  tail  of  them.     We  are  wont, 
 
 yon 
 
The  T  arable  oftk  Pilgrim.  3  j 
 
 you  know,  to  compare  fuch  perfons  to  thofc  fick  men 
 who  dare  not  tafte  of  the  fait  meats,  and  the  raw  fruit 
 which  thty  lee  their  friends  eat  before  them,  becaufc 
 the  Phyfician  allures  them,  that  Death  lies  in  ambufli 
 under  every  mor  el.  Bu:  they  ipeak  of  them  with  fuch 
 a  gult,  that  (  as  we  fay  )  they  lick  their  lips  at  thole 
 dilhes:  They  fan  fie  them  to  be  very  favourie  bits :  they 
 have  a  great  longing  for  them  ;  and  the  very  fcent  of 
 them  is  lo  delicious,  that  rheywim  very  vehemently 
 that  they  were  not  forbidden  fruit.  If  they  think  not 
 fometimes,  that  fure  a  little  tafte  of  them  would  do 
 them  no  harm  •  yet  they  mould  cfteem  themfelves  far 
 happier  men  than  they  are,  if  they  were  not  tied  to 
 iuchleverities.  In  fuch  fort  do  thole  Pilgrims  hanker 
 after  their  forfaken  fins  in  their  former  evil  courfes  ^ 
 who  hate  not  them,  but  only  the  mifchief  which  they 
 fear  from  them  ;  and  are  not  fo  much  their  enemies, 
 as  friends  to  cate  and  a  quiet  confeience.  They  would 
 not  forbear  them,  did  not  fo  great  miferies  threaten  to 
 Citnc  along  with  them  ;  and  their  defires  mould  not 
 want  latislaction,  were  they  not  combated  with  con- 
 trary defires  of  avoiding  the  trouble  which  that  will 
 give  them.  Let  me  tell  ycu,  it  is  a  the  ufand  to  one 
 but  they  will  find  the  means  in  fome  favourable  occa- 
 fion  to  infinuate  themfelves  into  their  fociety  again. 
 They  are  nor  banifticd  to  fo  great  a  diftance,  as  Jong 
 as  they  hold  the  place  they  had  in  their  hearts  .  but 
 they  may  be  reftored  and  have  the  libcrtie  to  return 
 into  their  ancient  embraces.  This  forced  abftinence  is 
 fo  painful,  and  their  enjoyment  is  fo  tweet,  that  they 
 w  illlive  in  hope  of  a  reconciliation.  The  fin  and  the 
 danger  will  not  ever  feem  fo  infeparable.  Their  affe- 
 ctions will  make  them  fue  for  a  divorce,  which  in  a 
 Court  where  thev  are  Judges  may  be  eafily  obtained. 
 F  2  There 
 
*6  The  Parable  of  the Tilgritn. 
 
 There  are  many  Arts  of  blaunching  the  fouleft  mat: 
 ters :    And  Vertue  doth  not  fo  challenge  to  it  felf  the 
 fole  priviledgeof  being  innocent,   but  Vice  will  very 
 often  pretend  unto  it.     It  knows  how  to  put  it  felf  in- 
 to an  harmlefs  drefs ;   and  to  pafs  under  fuch  borrowed 
 Titles,  as  (hall  conceal  it  from  the  knowledge  of  thofe, 
 who  are  afraid  of  nothing  but  its  name  and  its  punifh- 
 ment.     Love  is  fumifhed  with  as  many  excufes,   as  it 
 hath  defires ;  and  is  full  of  wit  and  addrefs  to  obtain 
 its  end.    They  cannot  be  long  afunder  who  are  alrea- 
 dy joyned  in  their  affections ;   nor  can  any  danger  be 
 fo  great  that  lies  between  to  divide  them,   but  it  will 
 be  furmounted  by  that  which  hath  already  overcome 
 themfelves.     So  great  need  there  is  that  Reafon 
 fhould  fee  to  the  implanting  of  this  Paffion  which 
 will  fo  foon  over- top  it ;   and  to  provide  that  it  be 
 of  a  generous  and  noble  flock,   feeing  it  is  like  ever 
 after  to  be  its  Lord  and  Matter.     It  is  in  vain  to  object 
 inconveniences  to  them,    who  know  nonefo  great  as 
 thofe  of  being  denied  their  defires.     They  are  afraid 
 indeed  of  trouble  and  pain ;    but  who  can  tell  which  is 
 the  mcft  grievous,  that  which  they  feel,  or  that  which 
 they  fear  <  The  prcfent  mifery  of  wanting  what  they 
 love,  or  the  future  of  induring  that  which  they  hate  i 
 Doth  not  the  former  think  you  teach  them  with  a 
 quicker  fenfe,    being  a  prefent  and  a  conftant  evil,  and 
 fo  moft  certain  to  be  fuffered :    whereas  the  other  be- 
 ing to  come,  may  feem  doubtful  whether  it  will  come 
 or  no;  and  when  it  doth  come,  may  not  coft  them  half 
 that  pain  which  they  muft  conflict  withal  to  avoid  it  i 
 It  is  a  torment  they  find,    to  live  in  reftlefs  longings, 
 but  they  hope  it  will  not  be  fo  great  to  give  them  fatis- 
 faction.   They  cannot  rid  themfelves  of  the  former,buc 
 they  are  perfwaded  they  may  foon  be  eafed  of  the 
 
 latter. 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ^ 
 
 latter.  After  they  have  given  their  defires  their  full 
 fatisfa&ion,  they  doubt  not  with  lefs  trouble  to  give  it 
 ro  God,  than  they  could  have  denied  it  to  themfclves. 
 It  is  but  repenting,  they  think,  of  the  fact  (  a  bufinefs 
 of  no  great  trouble,  and  foon  over ;  and  then  God  and 
 they  are  both  pleated  5  They  by  doing  evil,  and  he  by 
 their  forrow  for  what  they  have  done.  Nay,  they  may 
 feem  to  have  done  more  for  Gods  fake  than  for  their 
 own,  becaufe  they  enjoyed  but  only  a  (ingle  pleafure 
 themfelves,  whileft  they  have  indured  a  double  torment 
 for  him :  One  in  denying  fo  long  to  follow  their  de- 
 fires,  and  another  in  their  regret  for  following  of  them 
 now.  I  hope  then  you  are  convinced,  that  for  the 
 continuance  of  your  good  Refolution,  you  ought  not  to 
 permit  fo  much  as  the  leaft  affection  to  any  fin,  to  go 
 along  with  you.  It  will  foon,  you  fee,  march  after,  if 
 you  carry  fuch  a  friend  to  ifabout  you ;  and  though  it 
 follow  at  adiftanceat  thefirft,  yet  it  will  purfue  you 
 fo  hard  at  laft,  as  fuddenly  to  overtake  you ;  or  to 
 fpeak  more  truly,  it  will  bring  you  back  again,  and 
 caufe  you  to  retreat  into  its  Quarters.  You  muft  put 
 your  fanfie  therefore  out  of  conceit  with  it  •,  and  poffefs 
 your  mind  with  odious  reprefentations  of  it.  You  muft 
 loath  it,  not  as  a  fick  man  doth  the  meats  on  which  he 
 hath  furfeited,  but  as  a  healthful  perfon  doth  thofe  to 
 which  he  bears  a  particular  antipathy  in  his  conftitu- 
 tion.  You  muft  not  abftain  from  it  only  as  a  thing 
 forbidden,  but  difguft  it  as  that  which  deferves  to  be 
 forbidden. 
 
 You  fee  how  careful  I  am  to  eftablifh  this  Resolution 
 in  your  foul,  becaufe  indeed  very  much  depends  upon 
 it,  which  hath  made  me  to  enlarge  this  difcourfe  to  a 
 length  beyond  that  which  I  intended.  And  truly  it 
 will  coft  you  fo  much  pains  to  form  it  \    there  will  fo 
 
 many 
 
.38  •         TlxfarableoftheTilgrim. 
 
 many  enemies  oppofe  it ;  and  perhaps  when  you  your 
 felf  ihall  think  that  it  hath  feded  it  (elf  in  your  heart, 
 there  will  be  Co  much  ftili  wanting  to  compleat  it  •,  that  I 
 have  an  inclination  (  if  it  will  not  quite  tire  your  pati- 
 ence*, to  add  a  few  words  more  about  the  nature  of  this 
 Rejolution.  You  will  lofe  no  time,  Iamfure,  by  this 
 means,  nor  {hill  I  hinder  you  in  your  intended  Pilgri- 
 mage to  Jerufalem;  but  as  the  foundation  well  laid  doth 
 allure  the  fuperftru&ure,  and  one  foot  firmly  planted 
 doth  make  the  next  ftep  more  fecure ;  fo  will  the  Hrit 
 part  of  your  journey  well  performed,  render  all  the  reft 
 more  ealie  and  fafe  to  you.  It  is  of  great  avail,  you  can- 
 not be  ignorant,  in  all  cafes  to  begin  well.  There  is 
 nothing  more  imports  to  the  happy  or  difaftrous  iflue  of 
 any  affair,  than  what  manner  of  entrance  we  make  up- 
 on it :  and  therefore  let  me  not  feem  tedious  to  you,  if  I 
 detain  you  here  a  while  before  we  advance  further,  and 
 if  I  make  you  ftand  ftill  for  a  time,  when  you  have  a 
 great  mind,  I  believe,  to  be  going  forward. 
 
 I  fubmit  my  felf  to  your  Wifdom ,  faid  the  Pil- 
 grim, and  entreat  you  not  to  confult  my  defires  at  all, 
 but  only  my  NecefTny.  Or  if  you  would  be  fure  to  do 
 what  pleafes  me ;  know  that  you  undertake  an  impoffi- 
 ble  task,  unlefs  you  take  the  liberty  to  fay  what  you 
 think  will  dii'pleaie  me.  If  you  lofe  any  time,  itmuft 
 be  by  asking  my  leave  to  fay  your  mind.  I  mall  not 
 think  that  you  are  guilty  of  making  me  ftand  frill,  un- 
 lets you  ftay  to  obtain  my  confent,  that  you  may  go  for- 
 ward in  your  difourfe.  This  will  be  the  only  grievous 
 thing  that  can  befal  me  while  lam  in  your  company  • 
 and  if  you  have  a  mind  to  exercife  my  patience,,  it  muft 
 be  by  fupe&ing  me  impatient  of  your  wholefome 
 counfels.  Go  on  Sir,  I  befeech  you ;  and  give  me  rea- 
 sons for  what  I  am  to  do,  but  not  for  what  I  am  to  hear. 
 
 Tire 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim,  jp 
 
 Tire  me  if  you  can  with  your  Precepts,  but  not  With  any 
 more  of  your  Petitions  to  ire. 
 
 You  fhall  have  no  caufe  hereafter,  replied  the  Di- 
 rector, to  complain  of  that  matter ;  For  a  pledge  of 
 which  promife  you  fhall  receive  no  other  anfwer  to 
 what  y<  u  hive  faid,  but  only  this  new  promife ;  That 
 if  I  cannot  ferve  you  by  the  truth  of  what  I  fay,  yet  the 
 liberty  and  freedom  of  my  fpeech  (hall  make  you  know 
 that  I  intend  to  do  ycu  'ervice  by  revealing  to  you  my 
 very  heart. 
 
 CHAP.    IX. 
 
 A  more  particular  Difcourfe  of  Refolution  :  and  of  the 
 manner  how  to  formfttch  an  one  at  will  be  found  and 
 firm. 
 
 LEt  it  beobferved  then,  that  the  placing  of  this 
 Difcourfe  concerning  Refolution  at  theend  of  my 
 other  Counfels  was  not  without  defign  •,  for  I  would 
 give  you  to  underftand,  that  it  is  not  of  any  worth  if 
 it  benotufheredinby  precedent  confideration.  This 
 muft  lead  the  way,  or  elfe  no  folid  purpofes  will 
 follow  after.  You  muft  firft  be  well  acquainted 
 with  your  duty,  before  you  can  refolve  to  contract  a 
 perpetual  friendihip  with  it.  Do  not  think  that 
 this  is  a  Note  too  trivial  and  vulgar  to  have  a  place 
 among  my  inftruftions  •,  for  I  tell  you  truly,  there  are 
 but  too  many,  who  when  they  are  beftdilpofed,  will 
 refolve  to  do  they  know  not  what:  who  make  large 
 promiles  of  thofe  things,  for  the  performance  of  which 
 they  are  furnifhed  with  little  power,  lefs  will,  and 
 fcarce  any  knowledge  at  all.    They  will  undertake  a 
 
 Pil- 
 
40  i  he  Tarabk  of  the  rtlgrm* 
 
 Pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land  before  they  know  a  foot 
 of  the  way,or  make  enquiry  how  far  it  is  thither.  They 
 will  levy  War  againft  an  enemy,  of  whofe  numbers, 
 ftrength  and  policy,  they  are  utterly  ignorant.  And 
 what  wonder  then  is  it,  if  they  afterward  let  fall  an 
 enterprize  that  was  begun  rafhly,  and  to  which  they 
 were  not  carried  by  their  judgement,  bur  hurried  by 
 their  blind  and  precipitant  Pailion.  Of  this  fort  the 
 man  in  the  Gofpel  feems  to  have  been,  who  faid  at  the 
 firft  word,  that  he  would  go  whither  his  Father  bade 
 him  i  but  afterward  his  fervour  cooled,  and  he  thought 
 good  to  take  his  eafe  and  reft  himfelf.  I  fanlie  fuch  a 
 perfon  to  bear  fome  refemblance  to  a  Child,  who  ha- 
 ving offended  his  Father,  comes  and  falls  upon  his 
 knees  for  a  pardon,  to  the  grant  of  which  the  good 
 man  is  already  inclined.  But  then  he  faith,  My  Son, 
 you  muft  be  careful  hereafter  of  your  duty  in  fuch 
 things  as  I  /hall  require  a  proof  of  your  obedience  t,  and 
 I  muft  injoyn  you  fuch  a  courfe  of  life  as  will  keep  you 
 in  my  favour,  and  finally  leave  you  my  bleffing.  And 
 before  he  can  have  finiihed  half  afentence  of  what  he 
 hath  to  give  him  in  charge,  the  youth  takes  the  words 
 out  of  his  mouth,  and  replies;  Yes,  Sir,  All  (hall  be 
 punctually  done  which  you  defire.  You  (hall  never 
 take  me  in  any  fault  again,  nor  have  caufe  to  complain 
 of  my  difobedience.  I  am  refolved  to  be  as  obfervanc 
 of  you  in  every  thing,  as  any  Child  in  the  World  can 
 be.  Let  me  but  have  your  pardon,  and  doubt  not  of 
 my  conformity  to  your  pleafure.  But  all  this  while 
 it  is  the  pardon  upon  which  he  hath  fixed  his  mind, 
 and  he  hath  fo  little  regard  to  the  conditions  upon 
 which  it  is  to  be  beftowed,  that  he  hath  not  the  pa- 
 tience to  hear  them  particularly  remembred.  The 
 joy  which  he  conceives  from  the  hope  of  his  Fathers 
 
 love 
 
The  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim.  t  41 
 
 love,  throws  him  headlong  into  a  confent,  before  he 
 confider  the  inftances,  wherein  the  flncerity  of  his 
 heart  will  be  tryed  and  brought  to  the  teft.  Thefe  may 
 prove  as  crofs  to  his  will,  as  to  enjoy  his  Fathers  good 
 affedion  is  agreeable  to  it :  and  that  which  was  fo  ha- 
 ftily  reiblved,  will  not  be  fo  fpeedily  put  in  execution. 
 Though  he  fancied  that  he  would  not  ftick  at  a  thou- 
 fand  things  to  pleafe  his  Father  5  yet  when  he  hears 
 them  named,  perhaps  there  is  not  one  of  them  that 
 will  be  fo  pleahng  to  himfelf,  as  to  find  him  ready  to 
 performance.  Such  truly  are  the  motions  which  ma- 
 ny men  feel  in  their  fouls  while  the  Treaty  is  managed 
 between  God  and  them  concerning  their  return  to  him 
 to  JerufAlem.  They  are  very  glad  to  hear  of  a  truce  ; 
 and  their  hearts  leap  for  joy  to  thinkof  returning  into 
 his  favour,  and  feeing  his  face  in  that  Royal  City.  As 
 long  as  the  Propofals  run  in  general  terms,  that  they 
 mult  do  the  will  of  God ,  and  run  the  ways  of  his 
 Commandments,  they  find  no  difficulty  to  accord  him 
 his  deiires.  They  readqy  yield  to  fubmit  to  his  pre- 
 cepts, and  fay,  It  is  pity  they  mould  live  who  wiM  not 
 ferve  fuch  a  Matter.  Jerufalem  is  a  place  of  fuch  glo- 
 ry, that  while  their  thoughts pofte  thither,  theyeafily 
 leap  over  all  the  difficulties  which  are  in  their  way  to 
 it.  But  if  you  defcend  from  hence  to  thofe  particu- 
 lar differences  which  have  been  between  Heaven  and 
 them  ;  if  you  flop  them  a  while  in  their  Carriere,  to 
 acquaint  them  feverally  with  every  thing  that  will  ex- 
 ercife  their  patience  in  the  journey :  They  appear  as 
 defirous  in  fome  cafes  to  retain  their  own  will,  as  be- 
 fore they  feemed  forward  in  all  to  be  refigned  to  his ; 
 and  it  is  manifefl:  there  are  fome  courfes  to  which 
 their  hearts  are  more  wed,  than  to  Jerufalem.  They 
 do  not  like  things  fo  well  in  the  pieces,  as  in  the  lump. 
 G  They 
 
a  2  Tl?e  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 They  do  with  their  duty  as  men  do  with  bitter  Pills 
 which  they  can  fwallow  whole ;  but  if  they  chaw  them, 
 prove  fo  diftaftful,  that  they  are  ready  to  fpit  them 
 out  again.  Thefe  good  motions  indeed  en)  oy  the  name 
 of  holy  purpofes,  and  men  think  that  now  -their  hearts 
 are  fully  let  towards  God  ;  but  they  deferve  rather  to 
 be  called  Natural  Propenfuns,  than  Voluntary  Purpofes; 
 and  are  to  be  efteemcd  the  inclination  of  the  foul  , 
 rather  than  the  Resolution.  For  the  forming  there- 
 fore of  this,  Imuftleave  with  you  thefe  three  directi- 
 ons j  in  which  I  fhall  comprize  the  fafeft  advice  that  I 
 can  think  of  in  a  bufinefs  of  this  moment. 
 
 Firfiy  You  muft  know,  that  a  good  Resolution  is  ne- 
 ver founded ,  but  upon  a  particular  confideration  of 
 every  thing  that  is  undertaken  by  you,  after  you  hive 
 weighed  them  ,  and  propofed  them  to  your  Will  fe- 
 verally,  one  by  one.  And  therefore  you,  having  it  in 
 your  heart  to  go  to  Jerufalem,  think  ferioufly  how  ma- 
 ny mile  it  is  thither,  and  get  an  exacl  information  of 
 "every  ftep  of  your  way  to  it  j  Set  down  in  writing 
 every  thing  that  is  to  be  done,  and  all  the  events  which 
 are  like  to  meet  you  in  every  ftage  $  and  then  as  you 
 go  along  in  your  meditation  ,  ask  your  heart  if  it  dif- 
 Jike  no  palTage,  and  will  not  be  tempted  in  fome  oc- 
 currences to  turn  afide.  Remonftrate  to  it ,  that  in 
 fuch  a  place  your  appetite  will  be  tempted  with  geni- 
 al entertainments ;  and  pray  it  to  deal  freely  with  you, 
 and  declare  whether  it  can  deny  to  it  inordinate  fa- 
 tisfa&ion.  Tell  your  heart ,  that  before  you  have 
 gone  rmny  paces  more,  the  wants  of  a  pDorer  man 
 than  your  felf  will  folicit  your  charity,  and  deiire  to 
 know  ifit  can  do  good,  and  truftGod  for  the  repay- 
 ment of  it.  Rcpre'ent  to  it,  how  highly  you  may  be 
 provoked  at  the  next  ftep    by  the  inioknee  of  fome 
 
 unruly 
 
The  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim.  4, 
 
 unruly  Traveller,  and  demand  whether  the  paflion  of 
 anger  can  fuffer  a  bridle  to  be  put  upon  it.  And  fo 
 laying  before  your  eyes  all  the  paths  of  Sobriety  , 
 Righteoufnefs,  and  Godlinefs,  which  I  may  hereafter 
 mark  and  chalk  out  for  you,  ask  your  heart,  What  dolt 
 thou  think  i  What  doft  thou  conclude,  upon  a  ferious 
 view  of  all  the  way  to  life?  Shall  we  confent  n  take 
 this  courfe  1  or  (hall  we  balkfome  of  thefe  piths  1 
 What  fay 'ft  thou  *.  Shall  we  be  fober  in  our  opinoins 
 of  things,  in  our  thoughts  of  our  felves,  in  our  defires , 
 in  our  angers,  in  our  eating  and  drinking  ( with  all  the 
 reft  which  you  muft  enumerate  )  *  Shall  we  walk  in 
 peaceablenefs,  and  in  patience,  and  in  humility,and  in 
 purity?  Or  (hall  we  (hunfome  of  thefe  ways  anddiverc 
 into  the  oppofite  rode  i  Speak  out  and  let  me  know 
 thy  mind.  Which  of  thefe  doft  thou  except  againft, 
 or  muft  we  equally  approve  of  all  <  And  never  ceafc 
 to  put  thefe  and  fuch  likequeftions  diftinctly  to  your 
 heart,  till  it  give  an  exprefs  confent  to  every  thing  that 
 preffes  for  a  refolution. 
 
 2 .  But  then  secondly ,  after  this  is  done,  you  muft 
 proceed  to  confider  and  make  choice  of  every  thing 
 you  intend  to  undertake  with  all  its  appendant  incon- 
 veniences, and  evils  which  come  along  with  it :  Or  elfe 
 when  they  {hall  come  to  face  you,  your  refolution  will 
 ftart  back  in  fo  unexpected  an  incounter.  Enquire 
 therefore  into  all  the  difficulties  of  every  part  of  your 
 way:  confider  the  length  of  the  miles,  the  danger  of 
 Thieves,  the  badneO  of  the  weather,  the  Icorching 
 heat  of  the  Sun,  the  ftorms  and  tempefts  which  may 
 arife  when  youcrofsthe  Sea,  the  hard  lodging,  the 
 coarfe  diet,  and  all  the  mifchiefs  which  Ifhilliliortly 
 fhew  you  do  attend  a  way  fo  little  frequented  as  that 
 tojerufalew.  Say  to  your  felf,  Will  you  be  abftemi- 
 G  2  ous 
 
44 
 
 TIjefarable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 ous  from  all  the  pleafures  which  others  riot  in ;  when? 
 befides  the  want  of  their  mirth,  you  your  felf  will  be- 
 come the  fubject  of  it,  and  be  expofed  co  their  fcorn  and 
 laughter?  When  your  meeknefs  is  called  cowardife, 
 can  you  then  curb  your  anger  i  If  you  be  reduced  to  a 
 poor  condition,  and  become  the  objecl  of  that  charity 
 which  others  have  received  from  your  hands,  can  you 
 then  believe  and  not  be  difcouraged  {  Will  you  ftill 
 have  a  good  opinion  of  your  choice  when  you  are  vili- 
 fied and  condemned  for  it  i  Will  you  pretend  to  the 
 ftridnefs  of  this  pious  courfe  when  it  procures  you 
 nothing  but  mocks  and  flouts  i  Nay,  will  you  hold 
 your  way,  when  you  are  loaden  with  ftripes  f  Will 
 you  march  on  with  a  chain  about  your  leg,  or  a  rope 
 about  your  neck  ?  Do  not  truft  your  fouls  till  they  have 
 made  you  a  pofitive  anfwer  to  thefe  demands,  and 
 given  you  fatisfa&ion  5  that>  notwithftanding  all  you 
 may  fuffer  in  your  credit,  in  your  purfe,  in  your  bo- 
 dy, and  in  your  life,  they  will  not  alter  their  purpofe 
 of  going  in  thefe  ways  to  the  Holy  L*ndi  and  the  City  of 
 Cod. 
 
 3.  And  then  in  the  Uft  place,  it  will  much  conduce 
 to  the  fettling  of  a  conftant  Resolution,  if  you  do  not 
 conclude  too  foon,  but  weigh  all  thefe  things  over 
 again.  Ask  your  lelf  the  nexc  morning,  whether  you 
 ftill  continue  in  the  fame  mind.  Know  of  your  foul, 
 whether  your  purpofe  was  not  the  effect  of  aprefenc 
 heat,  and  if  after  the  cool  of  the  night  you  can  allow  it. 
 Bid  it  compare  all  things  deliberately  on  both  fides, 
 and  laying  them  in  an  equal  ballance,  fo  incline  and 
 determine  it  felf.  On  that  fide  there  are  many  plea- 
 fures which  you  muft  forgo  ;  and  on  this  are  many 
 pains  which  you  muft  endure.  There  is  a  fofc  and  de- 
 licate way,  and  here  are  ftony  and  cragged  paths.     In 
 
 the 
 
The  T^rable  of  the  Pilgrim.  4  5 
 
 the  other  road  you  may  enjoy  your  eafe ;  but  in  this 
 that  I  (hew  you,  you  muft  deny  your  felr,  and  labour 
 hard  to  be  faved..    Do  not  the  fcalcs  incline  to  the 
 contrary  fide?   Will  you  ftill  be  in  love  with  this 
 rough  way  which  leads  to  Jerusalem  f  What  have  you 
 now  at  hand  to  counterpoife  and  to /weigh  down  the 
 advantages  which  Teem  to  ly  on  the  other  fide  againft 
 your  Refolution?    You  are  undone,    if  you  are  not 
 furnifhed  with  a  multitude  of  fuch  confiderations  as 
 thefe,  of  the  worth  and  weight  of  a  foul,  of  the  Glory 
 to  Jerufalem,   of  the  pleafures  that  you  mall  foon  tafte 
 in  thefe  ragged  ways ;    which  you  mud  throw  into  the 
 right-hand  Icale  with  all  the  force  of  reafonyou  have. 
 Or  in  one  word,   you  muft  compare  the  Beginning  and 
 the  End  of  thefe  two  together,  and  then  you  will  foon 
 fee  the  difference.     There  is  nothing,  you  think,  but 
 fweetnefs  in  the  ways  which  I  forbid  you,  till  you  come 
 to  the  conclusion  of  your  journey,  and  then  what  pro- 
 vifion  will  you  find  made  for  you  but  gall  and  worm- 
 wood ?    As  on  the  other  fide  you  may  fancy,  there  is 
 nothing   grows  but  that   bitter  herb  in  the   paths 
 wherein  I  would  conduct  you  5   yet  at  the  laft  how- 
 ever you  cannot  but  promife  your  felf  a  Garden  of 
 pleafure.    Now,   which  of  thefe  will  you  make  yout 
 choice,  to  which  of  them  will  you  lean;  to  the  pre- 
 fent ,    or  to  the  future  good  i    To  the  prefent ,  no 
 doubt,  if  you  be  abeaftj  but  to  the  future  fure,  if  you 
 be  a  man,  and  not  forfaken  of  yourreafon.     For,  con- 
 tinue to  compare  the  Length  of  thefe  two ;  and  fee 
 how  far  it  is  from  the  beginning  of  the  pleafures  in  one 
 way,   and  the  pains  in  the  other,   to  the  end  of  both. 
 Is  it  not  a  very  fhort  life  of  a  few  days,    which  puts  a 
 period  to  them  both  f   How  can  it  be  any  great  matter 
 then  to  enjoy  the  one,    or  to  endure  the  other  ?  But 
 
 then 
 
46  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 then  where  thefe  end,  there  is  fomethingelfe  begins^ 
 and  who  can  tell  the  length  of  that,  when  the  other 
 are  done  and  pafled  away  <  Now  the  difparity  difco- 
 vers  it  felf.  Now  your  thoughts  will  be  fwallovved  up 
 in  a  bottomlefs  AbyfTe.  For  you  can  fee  no  end  of 
 the  pleafures  to  which  one  way  leads  you,  nor  of  the 
 pains  to  which  the  other  brings  you.  So  that  you 
 may  let  your  Soul  know,,  that  this  is  the  fumm  of  the 
 whole  bufinefs.  Here  are  on  one  hand  fhort  plea- 
 fures and  long  pains  ;  and  on  the  other  ,  fhort 
 pains,  and  long  pleafures.  Bid  it  chufe  now,  like  a 
 rational  creature,  and  embrace  that  which  draws  the 
 will  with  greateft  force  unto  it.  I  am  fure,  there  is 
 nothing  can  tempt  it  to  incline  to  the  former,  but  only 
 this,  that  thofe  pleafures  are  prefent,  whereas  thefe 
 that  I  fpeak  of  are  to  come.  Let  it  therefore  never 
 confider  them  as  meer  pleafures,  but  with  this  addition 
 of  short  and  Long  5  and  that  will  render  the  difference 
 vaftly  great ,  and  attract  it  mightily  to  the  other  hand. 
 And  if  the  fcale  feem  to  alter  again,  becaufe  you  are 
 fure  of  the  prefent,  but  not  of  that  which  is  to  come; 
 Here  you  muft  employ  your  Faith,  to  give  a  weight  to 
 that  which  is  not  yet  in  Being.  It  muft  make  you 
 feel  how  folid  and  mafiy  thofe  future  enjoyments  are, 
 and  then  your  work  is  done.  For  when  Faith  hath 
 made  themprefent,  as  the  other  are;  they  themfelves 
 are  Co  ponderous,  that  it  will  feem  as  light  as  feathers, 
 whatfoever  it  be  that  lyes  in  the  ballance  againft 
 them. 
 
 I  believe  you  fee  by  this  time,  that  it  is  a  matter  of 
 fome  labour,  to  bring  your  felf  to  a  thorow  Resolution  : 
 but  when  it  ftands  on  thefe  grounds,  I  do  not  appre- 
 hend what  temptation  that  fhould  be,  which  can  hope 
 to  fhake  it.    There  is  no  new  thing  can  prefent  it  felf, 
 
 but 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Vitgrim.  47 
 
 but  what  hath  been  a!:Cidy  confidercd  ,  and  for 
 which  you  are  provided  :  and  therefore  it  will  defpair 
 fure  (being  clearly  caft,  and  having  loft  the  d3y)  of  re- 
 covering any  place  in  your  eftecm,  or  being  of  any 
 moment  hereafter  with  you.  Its  prctenfions  being 
 quite  fpoilcd,  and  all  that  it  hath  to  alledge  confuted  ; 
 it  will  be  to  no  purpofe  again  to  follicit  an  hearc 
 which  hath  lb  folemnly  given  itarepalfe,  and  utterly 
 rejected  its  fuit.  One  thing  indeed  muft  not  here  be 
 diilembled  5  which  is  the  great  difference  that  ap- 
 pears between  the  fame  thing,  while  it  remains  in  the 
 Speculation  of  our  mind,  and  when  it  comes  forth  from 
 thence  to  be  put  in  practice.  The  diftance  is  wide  ,  ic 
 muft  be  confeiled,  betu  een  thoughts  and  things.  It  is 
 not  all  one  to  conceive  and  to  bring  forth,  to  difcourfe 
 and  to  pafs  to  execution.  There  is  a  great  deal  of 
 pleafure  attends  upon  our  conceptions  5  and  clear 
 reafonings  are  accompanied  with  a  wonderful  delight. 
 There  weeafily  matter  dcfigns  •  and  fighting  only  with 
 the  Ideas  of  things,  they  will  fuffer  themlelves  to  be 
 conquered  by  us,  and  taken  captives  at  our  wills.  But 
 then,  after  all  this  >  wc  muft  come  out  to  the  other 
 part  of  executing  and  bringing  forth  }  and  there  we 
 find  a  ftronger  reiiftance.  Then  the  faces  of  things  are 
 quite  changed,  and  the  Soul  falls  into  labour,  and  fuf- 
 fers  the  throws  of  travail.  Itisnot  the  fame  thing  for 
 a  Merchant  to  think  of  a  ftorm,  and  to  be  driven  with 
 the  fury  of  it.  A  temped  is  not  fo  frighful  in  the  Port, 
 as  in  the  midft  of  the  Sea.  Then  it  is  that  perhaps  he 
 repents  of  his  Voyage,  and  wifhes  that  he  was  well  at 
 home  again ;  Or ,  at  leaft,  he  could  be  content  to  be 
 driven  thither,  and  there  think  he  had  done  nobly  in 
 venturing  fo  far  as  he  did  upon  the  treacherous  Ocean. 
 And  fo  truly,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  great  the  diffe- 
 rence 
 
4g  Tlie  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 rence  maybe  which  you  will  find  between  your  felf 
 hereafter  when  you  come  to  do  thefe  things,  and  your 
 felf  now  when  you  are  deliberating  of  them.  We  are 
 now  in  a  place  of  reft  and  peace ;  we  fpeak  of  thin'gs 
 abfent  >  and  difcourfe  of  objects  afar  off:  when  you  and 
 your  enemies  come  to  be  upon  the  fame  fpot,  when 
 you  are  engag'd  to  do  what  you  have  indefign,  then 
 you  may  not  be  the  fame  man,  nor  find  things  in  the 
 fame  pofture  :  But  that  may  revolt  and  oppofeyouin 
 the  operation,  which  was  complyant  to  you  in  thought, 
 or  did  not  lo  much  refift  you  in  meditation.  Then  you 
 will  find  that  you  mufl  wraftle  ftoutly  with  the  diffi- 
 culties that  make  head  againft  you  5  and  that  they  will 
 put  you  to  a  greater  proof  of  your  valour  and  constancy 
 than  you  might  imagine.  Then  your  cafe  will  be  very 
 bad  if  you  feel  your  felf  more  unwilling  to  proceed, 
 than  now  you  are :  if  you  muft  be  combating  your  own 
 will,  when  you  mould  fet  upon  your  enemies ;  if  you 
 mufl  then  be  deliberating,  when  you  mould  be  doing ; 
 and  prevailing  over  your  felf,  when  you  mould  carry 
 the  victory  over  your  oppofers.  And  if  you  fhould 
 prove  like  our  Hypocrite s>  who  think  it  is  enough  to 
 refolve  ftoutly,  and  to  make  refiftance,  your  affairs 
 will  ftill  be  in  a  worfe  condition  :  For  then  you  will 
 fairly  go  back,  and  fit  down  to  comfort  your  felf  with 
 fuch  thoughts  at  thefe ;  That  you  have  gone  far  enough 
 in  undertaking  a  bufinefs  of  fuch  difficulty,  though  you 
 never  effect:  it ;  and  that  it  is  an  atchievement  glorious 
 enough  for  this  world,  to  fet  your  felf  againft  enemies  fo 
 mighty,  though  they  get  the  better  of  you.  Thus  flat- 
 terers have  fometimes  praifed  a  Prince's  valour,  for  ha- 
 ving once  put  his  horfe  into  a  rage  -7  and  extolled  his 
 courage  for  figning  a  Treaty  of  Peace  with  a  great  deal 
 of  regret. 
 
 That 
 
the  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  49' 
 
 That  you  may  be  conftant  therefore  and  power- 
 ful in  your  Resolution ;  that  not  you,  but  your  enemies 
 may  yield  and  leave  you  the  victory  •  let  me  eameirly 
 ■beleech  ycu  toreprefent  all  things  which  you  now  un- 
 dertake both  as  truly  and  naturally  5    and  as  lively  and 
 flrongly  as  it  is  poflible  to  your  foul.     Think  that  you 
 ere  now  ifTuing  forth  into  the  field  of  action.    That  ar> 
 this  moment  you  are  in  the  agonies  which  you  muft 
 txpect.     That  juftnow  when  you.  are  deliberating  of 
 thefe  things,    you  feel  all  the  contradiction  and  refi- 
 nance that  will  be  made.     And  for  the  better  fecurity 
 of  your  Resolutions  it  will  be  ufeful,  if  not  neceffary,  to 
 renew  it  every  morning  5  and  to  go  out  of  ycur  Cham- 
 ber armed  as  a  man  that  waits  for  his  enemies.    Vow 
 your  heart  again  unto  God  as  foon  as  you  open  your 
 eyes.    Makeafolemn  proteftation  before  him,  that 
 you  mean  to  continue  his  faithful  fervant,   and  for  no 
 reafon  in  the  world  to  be  falfe  to  your  undertaking. 
 Reproach  to  your  felf  the  bafenefs  and  cowardHe  of 
 which  you  have  been  at  any  time  guilty ;  and  fwear  to 
 him  over  and  over  again  your  conftant  fidelity.    Say 
 with  a  great  courage,   I  do  here  in  the  prefence  of  God, 
 and  of  my  Saviour,   and  of  all  the  heavenly  Hoft,  de- 
 vote all  the  forces  of  my  foul  to  execute  his  pleafure.    I 
 renounce  the  world  •  I  vow  a  Pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem  5 
 I  will  wade  thorow  all  difficulties  ;   I  will  refufe 
 no  labours  ;    I  will  beg  my  bread   fo  I  may  come 
 fafely  thither.    This  I  avow  to  be  my  mind ;  this  I  con- 
 firm and  ratifie  again  without  any  refervations,  daufes 
 or  exceptions.     I  will  never  unfay  it  nor  revoke  it.     I 
 will  never  repent  of  this  promife,   or  of  any  parr,  of  it. 
 So  help  me,  O  my  God.   And  here  it  will  be  feafonable 
 to  make  your  humble  fuit  unto  him,   that  he  will  be 
 pleafed  to  fortifie  your  Refolution  too,  and  vouchfafe 
 H  to 
 
j©  *Fhe  Tarahle  of  tk  Pilgrim. 
 
 to  aid  you  by  the  grace  of  his  Holy  Spirit.     Represent 
 to  him  that  you  are  a  poor  Pilgrim,  who  have  under- 
 taken a  long  journey  for  his  fake,    and  forfaken  all  for 
 no  other  end,   but  only  to  fee  him  at  Jerusalem.     And 
 therefore  tell  him,    you  hope  he  will  not  fuffer  your 
 defign  to  mifcarry  ^but  that  he  will  make  you  as  valine 
 in  your  actions,  as  through  his  goodnefs  you  are  alrea- 
 dy in  mind  and  heart :   and  that  as  you  have  chofen 
 this  way,  fo  he  will  uphold  your  goings  in  his  paths, 
 that  your  footfteps  flip  not.     Shew  him  all  your  weak- 
 ness, and  how  feai  ful  you  are  of  your  felf.     Tell  him 
 youarefenfiblethe  fdoingof  his  ^  ill  is  much  different 
 from  knowing  and  purpofing  to  do  ir.     And  therefore 
 pray  that  he  will  leffen  the  difference,    or  take  it  quite 
 away  by  his  mighty  power  joyned  to  you,   that  you 
 may  with  as  much  certainty,  if  not  with  as  much  eafe, 
 do  and  effed,  as  you  have  projected  and  refolved.     In 
 fliort }    offer  up  your  will  to  him  all  broken  and  con- 
 trite,  that  he  may  put  it  into  what  form  and  pofture 
 hepleafes.    Shew  him  an  heart  that  quits  all  intereft 
 in  it  felf,    and  that  would  be  only  led  and  conducted 
 by  him.    Let  him  fee  you  (landing  quite  out  of  your 
 own  will ;  purely  indifferent  to  all  things,  but  only  the 
 doing  of  his.     Let  him  know  that  you  mean  never  to 
 call  it  back,    orrefumeitinto  your  hands  any  more, 
 though  you  might  poflefs  it  of  all  the  world  thereby. 
 And  then  fure  he  cannot  abandon  you,   nor  fuffer  any 
 thing  elfe  to  make  a  prey  of  that  which  is  thus  affe- 
 ctionately addre0ed  unto  him.     It  is  not  poffible  that 
 he  mould  refufethe  offering  you  make  him,  nor  can 
 he  throw  away  a  heart  which  puts  it  felf  thus  humbly 
 and  fincerely  into  his  hands ;    for  now  it  is  in  the  place 
 where  he  would  have  it,  and  it  doth  but  anfwer  the 
 fummons  of  furrender  which  he  fent  it.    He  doth  not 
 
 defire 
 
The  TaraUeofthe  'Pilgrim: 
 defire  any  thing  more,  than  that  you  would  thus  refign 
 and  make  over  your  fclf  to  him,  willing  neither  one 
 thing  nor  other  but  only  this,  that  he  would  let  you 
 know  what  choice  to  make  for  your  felf :  Then  you 
 cannot  be  long  ignorant  of  your  duty,  nor  impotent 
 neither ;  for  your  Will  being  overcome,  you  will  foon 
 overmafter  all  other  difficulties,  either  of  knowing  or 
 doing  the  will  of  God. 
 
 CHAP.    X. 
 
 Of  leaving  the  World. ;  and  horv  thereby  we  recover  our 
 freedom. 
 
 AN  D  now  having  reduced  things  to  this  ft  ate,  you 
 may  efreem  your  felf  deferving  the  name  of  a 
 Pilgrim  j  who  for  fakes  his  houfe,  his  wife,  his  children, 
 and  all  he  hath,  making  himfelf  poor  and  naked,  that 
 fee  may  travel  in  his  journey  more  lightly  and  merrily 
 when  there  is  nothing  left  that  may  prove  an  impedi- 
 ment unto  him.  It  may  feem  perhaps  a  very  beggerly 
 condition,  but  let  me  tell  you  this  before  I  go  any  fur- 
 ther, that  if  you  can  thus  fincerely  part  with  all  the 
 world  in  heart  and  refolution  ;  you  have  got  poffef- 
 fionof  a  thing  which  was  never  yours  before,  and  is 
 the  grcateft  riches  upon  earth,  I  meaner  felf.  We 
 tell  men  that  it  is  their  duty  to  take  their  hearts  whol- 
 ly out  of  the  hands  of  the  world,  to  let  nothing  claim 
 fuch  an  intereft  in  their  aflfecYions,  that  it  (hould  fay  I 
 am  yours  and  you  are  mine  :  And  this  ftartles  and 
 affrights  them  5  they  think  we  are  going  to  rifle  their 
 pofleflions  and  rob  them  of  all  their  goods.  But  if  they 
 did  fee  things  in  a  true  light,  and  were  not  hoodwinkc 
 H  z  with 
 
Tk  t  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 with  their  paflion,  they  would  thank  us  for  our  advice, 
 and  think  that  we  come  to  reftore  them  a  treafure  which 
 they  had  loft,  and  indeed  till  now  had  never  enjoyed. 
 
 You  mall  not  take  my  word  long  for  what  I  fay ;  but 
 you  fhall  find  before  you  have  travelled  very  far,  that 
 you  were  never  happy  till  you  were  loofed  from  thofe 
 bonds  whereby  your  heart  was  tyed  to  worldly  things  j 
 that  you  were  never  Matter  of  any  thing  till  you  were 
 ftript  ftarknakedof  all  your  inordinate  earthly  affecti- 
 ons. Now  you  will  be  your  own  man.  Now  you  will 
 b«  able  to  do  as  you  will  your  felf,  and  to  live  accord- 
 ing to  your  pleafure.  You  will  now  have  the  power 
 todifpofeof  yourtime,and  your  thoughts,and  all  things 
 clfe  belonging  to  you,  as  you  fhall  think  good.  You 
 will  have  the  liberty  toJseep  your  felf  company  5  to 
 entertain  your  Saviour  when  he  comes  to  vifit  you  •,  to 
 enjoy  God  in  quiet  without  any  thing  to  difturbyou  $. 
 to  converfe  with  the  other  world  as  freely  as  you  do 
 with  this.  Whereas  while  your  heart  was  chained  to 
 any  of  t he fe  things  which  I  wifli.  you  to  renounce,  I 
 appeal  to  you,  whether  you  were  not  more  theirs,  than 
 your  own.  Were  you  not  forced  to  go  whither  they 
 would  have  you  1  Did  they  not  draw  you  from  your 
 felf  at  their  pleafure?  Were  you  not  bound  to  keep  them 
 company  ;  to  imploy  your  time  in  their  fervice  and 
 attendance  i  Did  they  not  perpetually  ingrofs  your 
 thoughts,  and  folicite  your  defires,  and  exclude  all 
 things  elfebefidesthemfelves  from  having  any  place  in 
 your  heart  i  In  more,,  were  you  not  ever  from  home, 
 and  did  you  not  always  live  out  of  your  felf?  Let  not 
 your  poverty  then  run  in  your  mind  though  it  mould 
 be  never  fo  often  objected  by  you,  for  you  were  never 
 pofleffor  of  any  thing  till  now  :  never  rich  till  you  be- 
 came a  Pilgrim,   never  Matter  of  any  thing  till  you 
 
 were. 
 
Tbt  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrm.  ,, 
 
 were  owner  of  your  felf.  Now  you  have  recovered 
 your  freedom  and  your  eafe  both  together.  Now  you 
 may  do  what  you  will,  and  you  fliall  not  frffer  as  you 
 were  wont.  You  can  remember  the  torment  I  believe 
 which  you  indured  when  any  of  thofe  things  were  ei- 
 ther loft  or  diminimed,  to  which  you  had  ingaged  your 
 affeclions.  You  felt  that  if  we  too  ardently  love  and 
 cleave  to  any  thing,  we  muft  be  carried  along  with  ic. 
 With  all  its  changes  (which  in  this  uncertain  world  are 
 not  a  few)  we  mult  fuffcr  a  change  too.  When  it  is  ia 
 danger,  we  fhake  and  tremble  for  fear.  When  it  is  im- 
 paired, we  are  wounded  and  cut  ac  the  heart  for  grief. 
 When  it  is  loll,  we  fcarce  know  where  we  are,  and  canr 
 not  find  our  felves.  And  in  one  word,  we  muft  follow 
 the  fortune  of  thete  worldly  things  if  we  be  wedded  to 
 them  5  infomuch,  that  there  is  no  remedy  but  to  fue  ouc 
 a  divorce  prefently ;  becaufe  it  is  an  unlawful  marriage. 
 See  then  what  an  happinefs  falls  to  your  portion  when 
 this  is  once  effedkd,and  your  interefts  come  to  be  fepa- 
 rated  by  parting  you  afunder.  Now  you  will  not  be 
 fo  concerned  in  any  of  the  mutationsof  the  world.  Now 
 any  thing  in  it  may  depart,  and  not  be  followed  with 
 your  miferable  lamentations.  And,  tofpeakcompen-; 
 dioufly,  there  is  nothing  can  go  away  from  you,which. 
 fliall  carry  you  away  too,  but  ir.  will  (till  leave  you  your 
 felf  behind. 
 
 Let  me  incourage  you  therefore  to  take  the  name 
 and  weeds  of  a  Pilgrim  upon  you,  as  your  honour  5  and 
 to  wear  them  as  a  glorious  mark  of  your  freedom. 
 Though  you  have  given  your  heart  heretofore  to  the 
 world,  yet  let  it  know  that  you  do  not  intend  to  leave 
 it  in  her  hands :  but  prefently  call  it  back  again  that  | 
 you  may  beftow  it  upon  a  better  Matter.  Do  not  we  | 
 fay  that  every  Chriftian  muft  give  himfelf  to  God,  and 
 
34  The  Parable  of  thefilgritn. 
 
 is  it  not  that  which  I  have  now  perfwaded  you  to  fe- 
 folve  t  But  how  fhall  a  man  give  that  which  he  hath 
 not  f  And  he  hath  not  himfelf,  as  I  have  proved,,  that 
 hath  let  out  his  heart  to  the  world.  Ic  is  neceffary 
 then  that  you  take  it  home  again  in  order  to  your  being 
 his.  You  muft  be  your  own,  that  fo  you  may  give 
 your  felf  to  him.  You  mutt  be  reftored  into  your  own 
 hand,  that  fo  you  may  have  femething  to  offer  up  to 
 his  ufes.  And  did  you  never  think  in  any  iicknefs  that 
 you  were  near  to  the  gates  of  Death  ?  I  befeech  you  tell 
 me  whether  it  was  not  a  great  trouble  to  you  to  find 
 your  felf  fo  much  in  the  power  of  other  things  that  you 
 could  not  refign  your  felf  to  God  ?  What  mifery  is 
 there  like  to  this,  to  be  fo  out  of  our  own  hands  while 
 we  live  5  that  we  cannot  yield  our  felves  to  our  Maker 
 when  he  would  have  us  dye  ?  To  be  tyed  fo  faft  to 
 other  things,  that  we  cannot  go  to  him  when  he  calls 
 us  i  To  feel  that  this  thing  holds  us,  and  that  pulls 
 us ,  and  the  other  even  clafps  about  us,  and  fays  ; 
 You  muft  not  leave  us  i  If  there  were  nothing  elfe  to 
 thruft  you  forward  in  your  defign  3  the  thoughts  of 
 this  mifery  would  be  a  fuftlcient  fpur  to  you  to  quicken 
 the  execution  of  it.  Reftore  your  felf  prefently  to 
 liberty  again,and  be  a  fervant  of  the  world  no  longer  5  if 
 it  be  but  for  this  reafon  only,  that  you  may  be  free  to 
 dye.  Leave  the  world  as  you  found  it :  and  feeing  you 
 muft  go  naked  as  you  came,  do  not  ftay  for  Death  to 
 pluck  off  your  doaths,  but  ftrip  your  felf,  and  owe 
 your  liberty  to  your  own  hands.  It  will  not  be  long 
 you  are  well  affured  ere  that  debt  to  natuie  muft  be 
 paid ;  and  then  there  cannot  be  a  greater  contentment, 
 than  to  feel  that  you  are  your  own  at  that  hour :  That 
 you  can  difpofe  of  your  felf  to  God  without  any  lett  or 
 hindrance ;  and  that  you  can  dye  in  the  freedom  where- 
 in 
 
[The  T  arable  of  the  ^Pilgrim.  j  5 
 
 in  you  were  born.  If  you  (tend  ingaged  to  the  world, 
 it  will  be  fmeto  puc  in  its  calm  and  challenge  an  in- 
 terest in  you  ac  that  time.  It  will  let  yon  know  that 
 it  is  your  Miftrefs,  and  ftill  requires  your  fervice.  And 
 therefore  follow  your  refolution,  and  forfake  it  berime  ; 
 that  io  it  may  not  give  you  any  trouble  then,  but  fuffer 
 you  to  go  out  of  it,  as  quietly  and  with  as  little  care, 
 as  you  came  into  it. 
 
 He  fpake  thefe  words  with  a  great  deal  of  heat,  and 
 with  a  tone  exprefiing  fo  much  vehemency,  that  he 
 could  not  have  been  more  earned  if  he  had  been  de- 
 puting the  liberty  of  his  Country  with  thofe  who  in- 
 tended to  betray  it.  But  on  a  fudden  repreffing  him-r 
 fclf  and  letting  his  voice  fall  a  little,  he  told  him  that 
 he  would  fpare  the  reft  of  his  difcourfe  on  this  argu- 
 ment for  fome  body  that  ftood  in  greater  need  of  it. 
 For  I  perceive  (faid  he)  that  I  have  now  to  deal  with 
 an  heart  that  hath  already  begun  its  own  deliverance, 
 and  whofe  wearinefs  of  the  Worlds  fervice  hath 
 brought  it  hither  to  find  out  a  better  Mafter.  Befidcs 
 ( added  he  )  it  will  not  be  prudent  I  think  to  burden 
 you  with  many  things  at  once :  and  we  are  admonifh- 
 ed  alfo  by  the  darknefs  which  comes  upon  us,  that  it 
 is  time  to  take  a  fliort  repaft  and  fo  commit  our  felves 
 to  reft.  I  have  an  empty  Bed  which  will  be  glad  to 
 receive  a  Pilgrim,  or  any  one  that  hath  fet  his  face  to- 
 ward Jerufakm,  being  dedicated  long  ago  to  Charity. 
 And  therefore  if  you  intend  to  be  ruled  by  me  in  all 
 things,  let  me  lay  my  injunctions  upon  you  not  to  ftir 
 a  foot  to  feek  a  lodging  in  any  other  place  but  in  my 
 houfe.  Ifwas  a  thing  of  no  difficulty,  youmayeafily 
 think,  to  perfwade  a  man  to  accept  of  that,  which  he 
 much  defired  5    and  had  already  prepared  hirofelf  to 
 
 bee. 
 
5>6  Tl?e  T  arable  of  the  Til^rhn. 
 
 beg.  And  therefore  having  made  him  his  hearty  ac- 
 knowledgements for  that  offer  and  for  all  the  good 
 counfels  he  had  beftowed  upon  him,  together  with  a 
 promife  to  be  obfequious  to  them  ;  they  late  down  to 
 a  frugal  flipper,  and  a  while  after  commending  them- 
 felvesto  God  they  parted  and  went  to  Bed.  I  fay  to 
 Bed ;  for  they  did  not  both  betake  themfelves  to  Reft  : 
 The  poor  ftranger's  mind  being  toiled  with  a  thoufand 
 thoughts,,  and  travelling  all  night  very  hard  to  Jeru- 
 salem. He  had  no  fooner  put  off  his  doaths,  but  he 
 thought  that  this  was  a  lively  emblem  of  the  condition 
 to  which  he  was  to  be  reduced";  and  it  put  him  in  mind 
 how  he  ought  to  ftrip  himfelf  of  all  undue  affections 
 to  the  world.  He  took  there  a  folemn  leave  of  it,  and 
 bade  it  eternally  farewel.  And  think  not,  faid  he,  to 
 meet  me  again  in  the  morning,  and  tha.t  I  will  put  on 
 my  old  love  to  you  as  I  do  my  garments ;  No,  I  vow 
 that  1  would  go  ftark  naked  if  the  one  could  not  be  re- 
 fumed  without  the  other.  Then  he  revolved  in  his  mind 
 all  that  he  had  heard  of  the  way  to  Jerufalem,  together 
 with  the  difficulties  therein :  which  in  the  filent  dark- 
 nefs  of  the  night  he  mufed  upon  more  deeply  than  per- 
 haps he  would  have  done  at  another  time :  There  be- 
 ing a  refemblance  he  thought  between  the  darknefs 
 and  the  afflictions  he  was  to  indure  ;  and  between  the 
 filence,  and  the  patience  he  was  to  ufe.  Thefe  and 
 fuch  like  refle&ions  fucceeded  fo  faft  one  upon  ano- 
 ther, that  they  would  not  fuffer  him  to  dole  his  eyes 
 till  towards  the  morning  light :  when  a  weak  flumber 
 laying  all  his  fenfes  afleep  and  chaining  up  his  reafon,1 
 left  only  his  imagination  at  liberty  to  rove  about.  And 
 it  had  not  pretfed  many  of  the  footfteps  of  things 
 which  his  memory  was  imprinted  withal,  before  the 
 image  of  an  ancient  pious  Friend  of  his  dead  long  ago, 
 
 and 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  }? 
 
 and  who  had  often  perfwaded  him  to  quit  the  world, 
 prcfented  it  felf  before  him.  He  was  clothed  in  white 
 rayrrent,  and  his  countenance  was  very  bright  •,  but  he 
 approached  him  with  the  very  fame  fmiles  in  his  face 
 wherewith  he  ufed  heretofore  to  run  into  his  imbra- 
 ces.  This  perfon  he  fancied  he  was  going  to  meet  as 
 foon  as  he  faw  him  come  in  at  the  door ;  but  before  he 
 could  ftir,  he  thought  he  found  him  at  his  bed  -fide 
 praying  him  not  to  arife.  For  (  faid  he )  I  muft  foon 
 leave  you,  and  am  come  only  to  exprefs  to  you  the  joy 
 1  have  to  find  you  in  this  Good  mans  houfe.  Happy  is 
 he  that  hath  met  with  a  faithful  Guide :  but  far  happier 
 is  he  who  follows  his  Advke.  Make  not  too  much  nafte 
 to  be  gone  ;  ftir  not  from  hence  till  you  be  difmifled. 
 And  then  I  hope  we  may  one  day  meet,  never  to  part 
 again :  But  now  I  cannot  be  permitted  to  make  a  long 
 (lay  with  you.  This  fight,  but  efpecially  his  fpeech 
 gave  h'.m  fuch  a  fentiment  of  joy,  that  he  hath  often 
 fince  profefied  he  never  felt  the  like,  nor  had  any  power 
 to  defcribe  it.  Yet  he  wifhed  afterward  that  it  had 
 been  lefs ;  for  it  brought  him  out  of  his  flumber ;  and 
 opening  his  eyes,  chafed  away  that  fair  Idea,  whofe 
 company  he  would  fain  have  injoyed  a  little  longer. 
 So  agreeable  was  that  object  to  him,  and  fo  dele&able 
 did  it  render  that  moment  or  two  wherein  it  appeared, 
 that  his  fpirits  were  as  much  refreflied  thereby,  as  it 
 they  had  been  fteeped  all  the  night  in  the  dews  of 
 deep.  Not  hoping  therefore ,  nor  wifhing  to  have 
 his  eyes  {hut  again  ( unlefs  it  were  to  behold  that 
 Friend  )  he  left  his  Bed ,  and  prepared  himfelf 
 to  welcome  his  Hoft  whom  he  heard  already  ftir- 
 ring  and  calling  up  his  fervants.  He  comforted  him- 
 felf alfo  with  this  pleafant  thought ,  that  he  was 
 awaked  to  fee  a  Friend ,  whofe  company  he  (lioald 
 
 I  DOC 
 
5.8  The  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim, 
 
 not  lofe  Co  foon ,  and  in  whofe  fociety  he  might  re* 
 joyce  without  fearing  to  make  him  vanifli  out  of  his 
 fight. 
 
 CHAP.   XL. 
 
 lie  commends  to  the  Pilgrim  two  Companions  :  Humility 
 and  Charity.  Dirctfs  -where  to  find  tbem. .  mth  a, 
 Urge  Difcourfe  oj  the  former  of  them,  . 
 
 IT  was  not  long  before  the  good  man  of  the  houfe 
 came  to  give  him  the  ufual  morning  falutations,  and 
 to  inquire  how  he  had  refted  that  night.  But  when  he 
 entred  his  Chamber,  he  beheld  fuch  a  joy  in  his  coun- 
 tenance, that  it  quite  turned  by  that  thought,  and 
 made  him  congratulate  his  chearfulnefs,  which  he  told 
 him  he  took  as  a  certain  indication,  that  his  Counfcls 
 had  found  a  good  acceptance,  and  were  like  to  be  pur- 
 fued.  His  Gueft  was  willing  that  he  fliould  impute  his 
 pleafant  afpe&to  that  caufe,  and  fo  told  him  nothing 
 of  his  Dream  :  Fearing  indeed  that  he  might  think 
 him  childifli  and  fuperftitious  ,  if  he  knew  that  he 
 conceived  fo  much  joy  from  fuch  flight  appearances 
 and  ihadows  of  comfort.  But  having  expreffed  his 
 great  fatisfaclion  in  thofe  preparatory  difcourfes 
 wherewith  he  had  been  pleafed  to  honour  him,  he  told 
 him  that  the  New  day  was  not  fo  welcome  as  himfelf, 
 andthat  theHours  feemed  too  fluggiib,  and  the  morn- 
 ing to  make  over- long  delay,  to  bring  him  the  reft  of 
 the  Counfels  which  he  expected  from  his  mouth. 
 You  have  given  me  a  rare  Good-morrow^  replyed  the 
 Guide,  and  I  have  feldom  met  with  fuch  early  joys : 
 Let  us  give  thanks  to  God  therefore  for  this  happy  be- 
 
 ginning, 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  jp 
 
 ''ginning^  and  fo  qualifie  our  felves  for  the  continuance 
 of  his  favours.  The  poor  Pilgrim  (Tor  fo  he  efteemed 
 himfelf)  embraced  this  pious  motion  with  all  his  heart* 
 and  fo  having  joyned  together  in  their  devout  acknow- 
 ledgements,, the  one  prepared  himfelf  to  fpeak,  and 
 the  other  to  hear  what  further  related  to  his  intended 
 journey  to  Jerufalem.  And  the  Sky  being  very  clear, 
 the  Earth  having  charged  the  Air  with  no  vapours  at 
 all,  they  were  invited  into  the  fields,  at  once  to  re- 
 frefli  their  bodies  with  a  walk,  and  their  minds  with 
 good  difcourfe.  Confidering  alfo  the  fecurity  they 
 mould  enjoy  thereby  from  all  the  diverfions  that  other 
 company  might  give  them  >  It  was  agreed,  that  all 
 the  time  he  flayed  there,  if  the  weather  were  fa- 
 vourable, they  fliould  fpend  thegreateft  part  of  the  day 
 abroad.  You  will  expect,  perhaps,  that  I  fliould  fee 
 down  at  large  the  particulars  of  every  da*ys  confe- 
 rence, and  tell  you  where  the  night  broke  it  off,  and 
 with  what  circumftances  it  was  renewed  the  next  mor- 
 ning .;  but  I  fear  that  method  would  extend  my  narra- 
 tive to  too  great  a  length ;  And  therefore  I  fhall  content 
 my  felf  to  give  you  a  continued  Relation  of  the  princi- 
 pal things  which  at  feveral  times  entertained  our  Pil- 
 grim, during  his  flay  with  this  good  man  ♦,  whofe  chari- 
 ty would  not  fuffer  him  to  depart,  till  he  was  fully  in- 
 ftrucled  in  all  things  that  concerned  his  fafe  paffage  to 
 t\\Z  City  jf  God. 
 
 As  foon  then  as  they  had  the  houfe  on  their  backs? 
 and  were  come  into  the  open  Air,  the  Guide  began  to 
 fpeak  unto  him  to  this  effect :  I  will  not  be  fo  diftruft- 
 ful  of  your  memory,  as  to  make  a  repetition  of  what 
 hath  been  already  (aid,  but  proceed  to  tell  you,  that 
 having  difpofed  your  affairs  in  fuchfortas  I  have  di- 
 I  2  reeled, 
 
6&  Tl?e  Tarahle  of  the  Ttlgrhn] 
 
 reded,  and  put  your  felf  in  good  order  for  your  Jour- 
 ney, you  muft  be  fure  to  provide  your  felf  of  two  Con> 
 panions  to  go  along  with  you,  which  indeed  you  can 
 never  be  without,  whofenamesare  HUMILITY  and 
 CHARITY.  The  former  of  thefe  will  always  keep 
 you  in  a  mean  opinion  of  your  felf,  and  the  latter  will 
 raife  you  to  an  high  efteem  of  God  and  your  Saviour « 
 breeding  in  you  a  paflionate  defireto  be  like  to  them  > 
 and  a  grateful  refentment  of  all  their  kindnefscoyou. 
 And  that  you  may  not  think  I  intend  to  put  you  upon 
 fome  long  fearch  for  them,  I  fhall  tell  you  for  your 
 comfort,  chat  you  (hall  find  them  both  lodged  toge- 
 ther in  one  place  from  whence  they  never  llir,  but  are 
 always  ready  at  hand  to  affift  thofe  that  there  fcek 
 for  them.  I  know  you  are  defirous  that  I  fh  >uld  ac- 
 quaint you  where  that  is ;  and  becaufe  I  would  five 
 your  pains  as  much  as  ever  I  can,  I  fhall  (end  you  no 
 further  than  your  felf,  if  you  ftill  keep  in  mind 
 that  fentenee  which  I  told  you  would  be  of  daily  ufe, 
 and  which  you  requefted  to  have  explained  5  for  in 
 that  you  will  be  fure  to  meet  them  embracing  one  ano- 
 ther in  an  infeparable  conjunction.  You  do  well,  I 
 hope,  remember  it ;  yet  I  cannot  chufe  but  repeat  it  to 
 you,and  with  you  again  and  again  to  fay  as  affecYionace- 
 Iy  as  you  are  able,  /  am  nought,  /have  nought,  Idefire 
 nought ,  hut  only  this  one  thing,  vehich  U  our  Lord  Jejm 
 Cbrift ;  and  to  be  at  peace  with  him  in  Jerufalem. 
 HUMILITY  fays3  lam  nought,  I  have  nought.  And 
 LOVE  fays,  idefire  nought  hut  Jefus  and  Jerufalem. 
 Thefe  two  you  may  the  better  keep  in  your  company, 
 becaufe  you  cannot  lofe  either  of  them,  unlefs  you  will 
 lofe  them  both;(and  who  is  there  that  would  not  at  leaft 
 have  one  friend  to  be  of  his  fociety  in  his  travels?  >So  lo- 
 vingly they  do  agree  together,that  they  are  by  no  means 
 
 willing 
 
T\n  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 billing  to  be  afundcr.    If  the  one  be  admitted,  the 
 other  will  not  be  excluded  •,    and  as  the  one  grows  to 
 a  taller  pitch,    the  other  advances  together  with  it. 
 The  more  you  humble  your  felf,  the  higher  will  your 
 Love  afcend  ;  and  as  that  is  exalted,  (o  will  you  learn 
 ft  ill  lower  to  deprefs  your  felf.     For  the  more  you  dif- 
 cern  your  felf  to  be  nothing,  with  the  greater  ardency 
 of  afTe&ion  will  you  embrace  Jefus,  who  is  defirous  to 
 make  you  fomeching  worth  :  and  the  more  you  admire 
 and  love  him;  and  his  imcomparable  perfections,,  the 
 better  frill  will  you  be  ableto'takea  view  of  your  own 
 nothing.     And  that  is  a  thing  which  I  think  He  to  ob- 
 ferve  to  you  before  we  pals  any  further,    becaufe  it 
 may  be  of  great  ufe  to  you  in  your  Pilgrimage.    T  hac 
 the  Humility  which  I  commend  unto  you,  is  not  to  be 
 cxercifed  Co  much  in  a  direct  considering  of  your  felf, 
 your  finfulnefsand  your  mifery  ( though  this  be  very 
 profitable  at  the  firft )  as  in  a  ftil!,-  quiet  and  loving  ad- 
 miration of  the  excellent  Goodnefs,  Purity  and  Love 
 of  Jefus.     When  youbelievehim  to  have  the  fulnefs 
 of  the  Godhead  dwelling  in  him  bodily,  and  especial- 
 ly when  you  are  indued  with  afavoury  feeling  of  his 
 holinefsandkindnefsj  this  fight  of  him  will  beget  in 
 your  foul  a  more  pure,,  fpirtual  and  fwcet  Humility , 
 than  the  beholding  of  your  felf  can  polliblydo,  which 
 produces  an  Humility  more  grofs,   boifterous  and  un- 
 quiet. As  there  is  a  Love  which  is  calm  and  quiet, when 
 not  at  all  ftirr  d  with  the  paflion,  we  remain  poifelTed 
 of  all  the  pleafure  of  it  •  fo  is  there  an  Humility  of  the 
 fame  nature,  which  (ilently  finks  us  down  to  the  very 
 bottom  of  our  being,  without  fUrring  and  troubling  of 
 our  fouls,    as  we  are  wont  to  do  when  we  violently 
 plunge  our  thoughts  into  them.     But  both  of  thefe 
 defcend  from  above,  when  cui  minds  are!  aft  ned  to 
 
 coeleftial 
 
'fa  T>;e  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 cceleftial  objects,  which  always  are  in  a  ferene  tran- 
 quillity :  they  will  not  fpring  from  things  beneath, 
 which  are  tolled  in  a  perpetual  and  reftlefs  agitation. 
 'We  never  feem  lefs  in  our  own  eyes,  than  when  we 
 look  down  from  on  high  upon  our  felves:  and  being 
 then  in' peace,  we  have  lefs  alfo  of  that  vexation 
 wherein  our  fouls  are  apt  to  boil  and  rage  when  they 
 are  the  neareft  objects  of  our  thoughts.  Our  Humi- 
 lityvi\\\  be  the  more  when  we  admire  Jefus,  and  it  will 
 be  of  a  temper  more rn'iJ^nd  gentle,  like  him  whom 
 we  admire.  It  will  notTofe  any  thing  of  it  felf  by  ta- 
 king its  original  from  him  -,  but  only  lofe  thatfowre- 
 nefs  which  is  mingled  with  it  when  it  hath  its  begin- 
 ning from  our  felves.  You  will  plainly  underftand 
 my  meaning,  if  youdobutconfider,  that  by  fixing 
 your  eyes  upon  your  felf,  you  may  indeed  difcem  that 
 you  are  a  moft  wretched,  (in  ful  creature:  but  by  fan- 
 ning them  upon  him^  you  will  both  fee  the  fame,  and 
 that  more  clearly  :  and  moreover  feel  that  you  are 
 a  meer  nothing.  This  fenfe  of  your  felf,  which  lays 
 you  lowed  of  all  other ,  you  can  never  owe  to  any 
 thing  elfe,  but  a  fight  of  him  who  wants  nothing.  His 
 Fulnefs  appearing  lb  great,  your  Emptinefs  will  feem 
 as  vaft  „;  and  in  compare  with  his  Perfections,  you  will 
 think  your  felf  nothing  but  Imperfection.  When  you 
 confider  that  all  is  his,  at  that  thought  you  have  loft 
 your  felf,  by  finding  that  you  are  not  your  own :  and 
 when  you  think  that  he  is  the  original  of  all,  you  are 
 loft  again  in  a  fenfe  that  you  had  been  nothing  with- 
 out him.  So  that  in  this  way  you  will  be  as  much  caft 
 down  to  the  ground,  and  rolled  as  much  in  the  duft,  as 
 by  any  other  reflections :  All  the  difference  is,  that  you 
 will  not  roll  and  tumble  about  in  the  turbulency  of 
 your  own  diffracted  thoughts,  and  the  violent  com- 
 motion 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Vilgrhn.  6} 
 
 motion  of  your  furious  pafiions.  You  will  only  lye 
 at  his  feet  in  a  lowly  pofture  adoring  of  his  Excel- 
 lencies, praifing  his  furpafling  Perfections,  confefling 
 your  own  meanncfs,  beleeching  him  tapity  a  poor  Soul 
 that  thinks  it  felf  nothing,  unlefs  it  may  fee  him  there, 
 and  defiring  him  to  take  the  opportunity  of  doing 
 himfelf  that  honour,  and  you  that  kindncis,  as  out  of 
 his  fulnefs  to  impart  a  new  ipirit,  and  a  divine  na:uie 
 to  you.  Nay,  this  Humility  will  make  you  ftudy  to 
 caft  all  other  things  out  of  yojtf  thoughts,  and  labour 
 only  to  be  beloved  of  him,  without  which  you  judge 
 your  felf  to  be  of  all  creatures  mod  miferable.  It  is 
 not  to  be  told  what  the  benefits  of  this  fort  of  Humi- 
 lity are :  but  to  let  you  fee  fomething  of  its  great  vir- 
 tue, reflect  upon  that  which  we  lately  difcourfed  con- 
 cerning the  force  of  a  ftrong  Refolution,  and  hearty 
 furrenderofyourfelfto  God.     Which,  as  it  contains  ;< 
 
 all  things  you  are  to  do  within  comprehenfbn,  (o  it 
 is  fupported  by  nothing  more  than  a  profound  Humi- 
 lity. When  we  confidcr  that  we  were  made  by  God, 
 that  we  depend  upon  him  every  moment,  that  we  are 
 infinitely  ingaged  to  him  for  many  millions  of  his  fa- 
 vours 5  when  we  think  what  a  Soveraign  Authority 
 he  hath  over  us,  how  much  he  is  fuperiour  to  us,  wh:ic 
 a  right  he  hath  to  all  our  fervices,  and  how  wife  and 
 good  his  will  is ;  it  is  impoflible  that  wc  mould  avoid 
 refolving  to  give  him  our  hearts,  and  to  perfiftreternal- 
 ly  in  the  abnegation  of  our  own  wills  and  defires , 
 which  we  can  never  faffer  to  be  competitors  with  his. 
 This  Humility  will  not  be  forward  to  cloath  you  with 
 fliirtsof  hair,  to  prefcribe  you  no  other  dyet  but  the 
 meaneft  you  can  procure ,  to  put  a  whip  into  your 
 hand  wherewith  to  let  your  felf  blood,  to  rob  you  of 
 your  hofeand  fhoocs  that  you  may  go  barefoot  to 
 
 Jerufalcw  \ . 
 
<$  j  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 Jernfa/em :  It  will  not  bid  you  ftrike  your  bare  breaft 
 againft  the  /tones,  nor  tell  you,  Thar,  to  be  a  Sai»r, 
 you  muftroll  your  naked  body  in  the  briers,  or  tumble 
 in  the  fame  manner  in  heaps  of  Winter  Snow ,  or 
 plunge  your  felf  up  to  the  neck  in  an  Icy  Pool :  But  ic 
 will  infallibly  ftrip  you  of  your  Self,  and  ftarve  all 
 your  carnal  defires,  and  break  your  will  in  pieces,  and 
 lay  you  at  the  foot  of  the  Crofs  of  Chrift,  and  difpofe 
 you  to  all  thofe  rigours,  and  a  thoufand  more,  if  your 
 Lord  did  fignifie  that  he  would  be  pleafed  with  fuch  au- 
 fterities. 
 
 How  fafe  then  and  fecuremuft  you  needs  think  your 
 felf  under  the  conduct  of  fuch  a  Companion  f  You 
 cannot  have  abetter  Guard,  nor  be  put  into  a  place  of 
 greater  aflurance ,  if  you  feek  over  all  the  world  for 
 it ,  than  that  to  which  Humility  will  lead  you.  For 
 making  you  diftruftful  of  your  own  power  and 
 ftrength ,  it  will  urge  you  to  a  continual  dependance 
 upon  your  Lord,  without  whom  you  feel  that  nothing, 
 much  lefs  fuch  an  excellent  thing  as  youdefigncanbe 
 atchieved.  We  accufe  very  much  the  weaknefs  of 
 our  nature ,  we  complain  heavily  of  the  body  of  flefti 
 and  blood,  which  continually  betrays  us ;  we  conceit 
 that  we  mould  do  rare  things,  were  we  but  once  quic 
 of  this  load  of  earth,  and  fuffered  to  move  in  the  free 
 and  yielding  Air.  But  let  me  tell  you,  and  believe  ic 
 for  a  truth-,  though  we  had  no  fociety  with  a  tere- 
 ftrial  nature  ;  nay,  though  our  minds  were  free  and 
 clear  from  all  mortal  concretion  ;  though  we  had  no 
 cloaths  at  all  to  hinder  our  motion :  yet  our  ruine 
 might  arife  out  of  our  fpirits,  and  by  pride  and  felf 
 confidence  we  might  throw  our  felves  down  into  utter 
 deftruftion.     For  what  commerce,  I  pray  you,  had 
 
 the 
 
I7;e  Parable  of  th  <Ptlgrim.  6j 
 
 lit  Apoflate  Angels  with  our  corporeal  nature  t  wh.u 
 familiarity  with  a  body  if  Do  \vc  not  conceive  them  to 
 have  been  pure  fplrits  feparatcd  from  all  earthly  con- 
 tagion? and  yet  by  placing  all  in  themfelves,  by  be- 
 ing puffed  up  in  their  own  thoughts,  and  not  acknow- 
 ledging their  need  of  the  Divine  prefencc  and  afli- 
 ftance,  we  conclude  that  they  tumbled  themtelves  in- 
 to an  AbyiTe  of  mifery  and  woe  irrecoverable.  Now 
 they  are  in  a  worfe  condition  than  if  they  w^  (pirits 
 of  a  fmaller  fize  :  Now  the  torment  they  fuffer  is  pro- 
 portionable to  the  noblenefs  of  their  nature.  For  the 
 (harper  and  quicker  the  mind  is,  and  the  greater  its 
 endowments  are  which  it  hath  received,  the  greater 
 "mifchiefdoth  it  bring  upon  it  felf,  and  the  fadder  are 
 its  perplexities  when  it  is  deftitute  of  the  fpecial  help 
 and  pi  efence  of  God.  As  a  great  Giant  being  blinded, 
 muft  needs  tumble  more  grievoufly,  and  give  himfelf 
 forer  knocks  than  he  would  have  done,  if  he  had  not 
 been  of  fo  huge  a  bulk  *  So  a  mind  and  reafon  eleva- 
 ted to  an  higher  pitch  than  others ;  is  carried  headlong 
 into  an  heavier  ruine,when  it  is  deprived  of  that  Divine 
 light  which  is  neceflary  for  its  guidance  and  prefer- 
 vation.  Excellency  of  nature  therefore  little  profits, 
 if  God  be  not  prefent  with  it  $  and  he  abfents  himfelf 
 from  all>  that  place  not  their  ftrength,  fufficiency  and 
 fafeguard  in  him,  but  in  themfelves.  And  on  the 
 other  fide  Fragility  of  nature  is  not  that  which  will  un- 
 do us,  if  the  Divine  prefence  do  not  withdraw  it  felf, 
 which  it  never  doth  from  humble  and  lowly  minds 
 that  confide  in  him  and  not  in  their  own  power ;  which 
 were  it  athoufand  times  greater  than  it  is,  would  not 
 be  fufficient  to  conferve  it  felf.  Our  pric*e,  and  vanity, 
 and  forgetfulnefs  of  God  then  is  that  which  we  muft 
 accufe  •,  not  the  infirmity  and  crazinefs  of  out  flem ., 
 K  for 
 
-$k  The?  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.    __  . 
 
 for  as  the  excellency  .jof  the  Angelical  nature  could  no: 
 lave  them  when  they  disjoyned  themfelves  from  their 
 Creator :  fo  the  weaknels  of  ours  mall  not  harm  us, 
 if  we  keep  clofe  to  him,  and  never  fever  our  felves  from 
 that  heavenly  power  which  worke:h  mightily  in  us* 
 Do  you  not  fee  then  how  much  you  muft  ftand  in- 
 debted to  this  AtTociate  in  your  Journey  i  For  it  is 
 Humility  that  muft  faften  you  to  God,  that  will  keep 
 you  in  a  conftant  adherence  to  him,  and  not  let  you 
 ftir  a  foot  from  him ;  that  will  make  you  tremble  to 
 think  of  looking  into  your  felf,  and  not  behold  him 
 there.  This  is  in  effect  your  ftrength  and  falvacion  ; 
 this  fupplies  the  defe&s  'of  your  nature  ;  this  is  the 
 remedy  of  your  infirmity ;  and  after  a  ftrange  way  this 
 raifes  you  above  all  the  power  of  the  world,  by  keep- 
 ing you  down,  and  preffing  you  very  low  in  your  own 
 thoughts. 
 
 I  muft  not  defraud  it  therefore  of  thofe  juft  praifes 
 that  are  due  to  its  virtue ,  which  may  recommend  it 
 more  to  your  affe&ions,  and  make  its  company  more 
 grateful  in  your  travels.  But  it  is  fit  you  fliould  know 
 that  this  Humility  which  makes  us  feem  fo  little  or  no- 
 thing in  our  own  eyes,  is  one  of  themoft  glorious 
 things  in  the  world,  and  places  a  man  among  the  an- 
 cient Hero's.  It  is  indeed  the  height  and  fublimity  of 
 our  mind,  the  true  Gallantry  of  our  fpirits.  It  letting 
 us  fee  what  poor  defpicable  things  we  are,  caufesus  to 
 furmount  our  felves,  and  to  have  no  regard  to  fuch  low 
 and  petty  interefts  as  thofe  of  our  own.  It  is  not  a 
 fneaking  quality,  that  dif- fpirits  the  foul,  and  deprives 
 it  of  all  its  force  and  vigor,but  a  gererous  difpofition  of 
 mind,  that  will  notftffer  it  toimploy  its  forces  upon 
 fuch  a  mean  and  contemptible  fcrviceas  that  of  plea- 
 
 fin; 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim]  3/ 
 
 fing  our  fclvcs.  Let  it  not  feem  a  Paradox  to  yotj, 
 for  there  is  nothing  truer,  that  pride  and  conceited- 
 nefs  are  the  qualities  of  bafebred  fouls,  of  feeble  and 
 ignoble  minds  ^  and  that  lowlinefs  is  the  endowment 
 of  a  foul  wellborn,  nobly  defcendtd,  and  bravely  edu- 
 cated in  the  knowledge  of  the  moft  excellent  things. 
 For  whether  is  greater,  I  pray  you,  hethatfets  a  value 
 upon  little  trifles,  or  he  that  defpiles  them  ?  Is  not  he 
 that  defpifes  them  i  whofe  thoughts  are  taken  up 
 with  fublimer  objects,  that  make  himfelf  and  all  things 
 here  befides  appear  as  nothing  in  his  eyes  C  I  believe 
 you  will  fay  there  was  not  a  greater  man  in  the  world 
 mi  thofe  days  than  Mofes^  a  leader  of  a  mighty  people, 
 the  Captain  General  of  all  the  Pilgrims  of  that  Age, 
 who  had  wrought  wonders  in  Egypt,  who  had  figna- 
 lized  himfelf  by  the  drowning  or  Pharaohs  Army  in  the 
 Sea :  and  yet  it  is  apparent  there  was  not  a  meeker  r.chryj}>{i«m. 
 perfon  living  upon  the  Earth ,  no  man  had  a  meaner in  l  Cor*  l*J* 
 opinion  of  himfelf.  He  was  content  to  be  taught  by 
 Je M™,though  he  knew  fo  much  himlelf,  nay  he  was  not 
 offended  at  his  reprehenfion,  but  fubmitted  his  judge- 
 ment to  a  better  reafon.  Could  there  be  a  greater 
 inftance  of  his  Humility  and  Gallantry  both  together? 
 He  that  had  overcome  fo  many,  now  overcame  him- 
 felf. He  that  had  triumphed  over  mighty  hofts,  now 
 leads  his  pride  in  triumph,  and  tramples  it  under  his 
 feet.  He  cared  not  who  had  the  honour  of  it,  fo  wife 
 and  great  things  were  effected.  His  own  glory  ht 
 valued  ncr,  but  his  Humility  infpired  him  by  all  means 
 to  feek  the  peoples  good.  What  think  you  of  Abra- 
 ham alfoa  more  ancient  Pilgrim  than  this  K  who  calls 
 himfelf  but  Duft  and  Ames ;  who  condefcended  fo  far 
 as  to  pray  Lot  a  perfon  inferiour  to  himfelf ,  that  there  x 
 might  be  no  difference  between  them:  And  yet  this 
 K  2  was 
 
^  g  Tk  Tar  able  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 was  that  great  man  who  had  overcome  (o  many  K'ngs 
 in  battel,  and  brought  away  fo  many  fpoils,  and  re- 
 deemed Lot  himfelf  from  Captivity.  Hath  not  his 
 Humility  rendrtd  him  more  famous  than  thofe  victo- 
 ries i  Hath  he  not  crowned  himfelf  with  greater  glory 
 in  not  vaunting  himfelf  in  thofe  Trophies,  than  if  he 
 had  been  ferved  continually  by  thofe  conquered 
 Princes  <  If  one  man  thinks  clay  to  be  clay  and  there- 
 fore treads  upon  it ;  another  thinks  it  to  be  gold  and 
 therefore  admires  it  •,  which  of  thefe  hath  the  braver 
 mind  1  Hath  not  he  who  doth  not  admire  the  clay,  and 
 embrace  the  dirt  1  So  he  truly  that  calls  himfelf  but 
 Duft  and  Ames  hath  certainly  a  very  great  foul  -,  while 
 he  that  underftandeth  not,  but  hath  himfelf  in  admi- 
 ration, is  a  weak  and  bafely  minded  man.  He  hath  a 
 great  fpirit  who  makes  no  account  of  thofe  things 
 which  others  are  proud  of.  He  is  generous  who  de- 
 fpifes  things  far  greater  than  thofe,  which  others  efteem 
 the  marks  of  their  glory :  who  doth  not  fwell  with  high 
 achievements  with  his  envious  neighbours  are  puffed 
 up  with  every  trifle.  Humility  then  you  fee  is  not 
 fheepinefs,  but  loftinefs  of  mind  and  the  moft  elevated 
 pitch  of  the  foul.  It  is  not  deje&ednefs  of  fpirit,  but 
 a  raifed  under  ftanding  of  God  and  of  our  felves.  And 
 therefore  let  us  be  low  (  as  one  of  the  ancient  Guides 
 of  the  Church  advifes)  that  we  may  be  high.  If  we 
 admire  any  thing  here,  let  it  be  the  fublimity  of  humble 
 minds. 
 
 I  cannot  conclude  before  I  add  for  your  further  in- 
 citement, that  Humility  is  of  an  excellent  good  nature, 
 andhathafingularobligingncfsin  its  conftitution.  It 
 makes  us  no  lefs  acceptable  unto  men  than  unto  God, 
 and  renders  us  amiable  though  we  have  nothing  elic 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  <^ 
 
 to  give  us  any  advantage.  Do  you  not  fee  how  into- 
 lerable the  Proud  are  i  and  what  is  ihe  reafon  of  ir, 
 but  becaufe  they  fcorn  thofe  who  are  not  of  their  rank  i 
 They  cannocbe  obliged  becaufe  chey  think  whatlbever 
 you  do  is  due  to  their  merit.  They  would  be  loved  by 
 all,  without  loving  again.  They  will  command  in 
 all  companies,  and  have  every  one  yield  to  their  hu- 
 mours. They  will  teach  all,  ;md  learn  of  none.  They 
 are  incapable  of  gratitude,  and  think  you  are  honoured 
 enough  for  your  ler  vices,  if  they  do  but  receive  them. 
 They  would  draw  all  to  themfelves ,  and  are  unac- 
 quainted with  that  which  charms  all  the  world,  I 
 mean  bounty  and  liberality.  The  humble  man,  no 
 doubt  then,  is  the  moft  agreeable  perfon  upon  earth  ; 
 whom  you  oblige  by  a  good  word,  which  he  thinks  he 
 doth  not  deferve :  who  thanks  you  for  thefmalleft  cour- 
 tefie:  who  had  rather  obey  than  rule:  who  is  drfirous 
 to  learn  of  the  meaneft  Scholar :  who  contemns  no  bo- 
 dy but  himfelf :  who  loves  though  he  be  not  loved:  who 
 thinks  mthing  too  much  to  do  for  thofe  that  eftcem 
 him*,  and  who  is  afraid  he  hath  never  recompencd 
 enough  the  civilities  which  are  done  unto  him :  In 
 fnort,  this  Humility  is  of  fuch  great  value,  and  fo  good 
 natured,  that  there  is  nothing  comparable  ro  it  but  its 
 twin  fifter  Divine  charity.  This  amiable  pair  are  like 
 the  right  foot  and  the  left  by  which  the  traveller  per- 
 forms his  Journey.  There  needs  no  more  but  this  happy 
 couple  to  carry  you  through  all  the  paths  of  piety,  and 
 bring  you  fafe  to  Jerufalem.  Let  us  turn  our  eyes  then 
 if  you  pleafe  from  the  one  to  the  other,  and  look  a 
 while  upon  the  beauty  and  graces  of  charity,  whofc 
 charms  are  fo  powerful,  that  you  cannot  chufe  butojrc.1 
 to  it  your  embraces. 
 
 chap; 
 
7  0  The  Parable  of  the  filgm. 
 
 CHAP.   XI. 
 
 Of  Divine  Charity.   The  Tower  th.it  it  hath  both  to  ejta- 
 '  blifb  his  Refolution,  andfurm(b  him  with  all  other 
 Requifitesfor  his  Journey. 
 
 AN  D  that  which  well  very  much  inamour  you  at 
 the  fir  ft  glance,  is  the  power  which  you  w  ill  dis- 
 cover in  it  to  eftablifh  your  Refolution,  and  to  make 
 it  fo  firm,  that  it  {hall  not  be  fhaken  by  all  the  force  of 
 all  the  world,  which  is  nothing  fo  ftrong  and  mighty 
 as  Love.  I  know  this  touches  you  with  a  ftrong  incli- 
 nation to  it,  if  you  have  any  mind  to  offer  your  will  to 
 God  as  I  advifed ;  and  therefore  you  will  not  think  I 
 importune  you  with  a  tedious  difcourfe,  if  I  make  you 
 more  fenfibleof  this  following  truth.  That  Love  makes 
 one  will  of  two,  and  caufes  us  to  facrifice  all  our  own 
 defires  to  the  will  that  we  love,  if  we  efteern  it  better 
 than  our  felves.  For  what,  I  pray  you,  C3n  we  fay  of 
 Love,  but  which  a  wifer  man  than  you  or  I  hath  told 
 us,  who  calls  it  the  emotion  of  the  foul  whereby  we  joy  n 
 our  felves  in  will  And.  heart  to  that  which  isfrefentedas 
 lovely  and  convenient  for  us  i  It  is  fuch  a  confenr,  I  fay, 
 of  the  heart  to  fome  fair  and  inviting  object,  that  we 
 confider  our  felves  as  joyned  and  united  to  it :  Info- 
 mucfi  that  we  do  not  look  on  erur  felves  in  it,  as  re- 
 maining any  longer  two  things  which  fubfift  afunder ; 
 but  we  conceive  a  whole^  whereof  we  think  our  felves 
 but  one  part,  and  the  thing  beloved  to  be  the  other. 
 Is  it  not  necefTary  then,  that  we  have  a  mind  to  cleave 
 to  this,  and  eternally  live  in  dear  imbraces  of  it  <  Can 
 weendure  the  thought  of  being  torn  from  this,  and  fo 
 diflblve  the  whole  which  Love  hath  made  <  Do  not  we 
 
 natural  y 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim.  7 1 
 
 naturally  defircto  conferve  things,   efpecially  thofe  of 
 our  own    creating i   It  is   unavoidable   then,    that 
 in  any  conteft  which  may  arife  between  thefe  parts, 
 we  yield  to  the  will  of  that  we  love,  for  fear  of  a  repa- 
 ration ;  unlefs  that  thing  be  worfe  than  our  (elves,  and 
 fo  we  hope  to  gain  by  the  diffolution.     If  one  of  thefe 
 two  muitbediipleafed,   we  (hall  ever  chufe  that  it  be 
 our  (elves,  unlefs  we  efteem  the  other  to  be  of  lefs  va- 
 lue and  worth  than  our  felves.    There  is  but  that  one 
 Exception  lyes  againft  this  general  Truth,    which  I 
 (hall  not  ftick  to  reiterate,  that  Love  doth  fo  tye  us  to 
 that  we  love,  that  we  and  it  become  but  one  whole 
 confiding  of  two  parts  ;   and  thatwefhallfooner  fuf- 
 fer  that  part  which  we  make,  to  be  crofled  in  ks de- 
 fires,    than  the  other  to  which  we  have  joyned  our 
 felves  to  be  difgufted.    Do  you  doubt  of  itC  Obferve 
 then,   that  Love  being  placed  on  things  that  differ  in        ~?j 
 three  degrees,    it  comes  to  be  divided  into  three  forts. 
 Either  it  is  to  things  below  us,   and  then  it  is  called  a 
 bare  Affection  ;  or  to  things  equal  to  us,  and  then  it  is 
 termed  Friendjbip ;  or  to  tnings  above  us,  and  then  it 
 arrives  at  the  name  of  Devotion.    Thus  I  have  learnt 
 from  a  wife  man  of  my  acquaintance.    Now  the  na- 
 ture of  Love  in  every  one  of  thefe  being  fuch ,  that 
 it  joyns  our  hearts  to  the  thing  beloved ,   and  we  and 
 it  make  but  one  whole  :    in  this  only  they  differ,  thac 
 though  we  may  confent  to  part,    and  break  with  that 
 xvhich  we  efteem  lefs  than  our  felves,   yet  we  can  ne- 
 ver agree  to  be  feparated  from  that  which  we  efteem 
 greater.     The  kfs  part  will  always  be  abandoned  to 
 the  converfation  of  the  greateft }    we  muft  always  fa- 
 crifice  that  which  is  worft,  to  keep  intire  the  beft.  And 
 therefore,  though  in  bare  Affection  a  man  always  pre-    , 
 fers  himfelf  before  that  he  loves,   when  one  muft  fuf- 
 
 f« 
 
7  o  Tlx  far  Me  of  the  Pilgrim". 
 
 fer  a  difpleafure,  yec  it  is  quice  otherwife  in  the  highe/l 
 Love  [  and  Comer  ime  in  the  fecond  fort)  which  we  call 
 Devotion,  for  there  a  man  prefers  the  thing  he  love* 
 Co  much  before  himfelf,  that  he  feaisnot  to  venture 
 his  very  life  for  the  Conver  Cation  of  it.  H^  will  foonef 
 fever  Soul  and  B  dy,than  consent  that  this  and  his  Soal 
 mould  be  divided.  He  will  rather  quit  all  the  world, 
 and  never  lee  it  more,  than  forfake  this,  and  be  ba- 
 nilhed  from  ir.  Becaufe,  as  there  is  no  compire,  he 
 thinks,  between  all  the  World  and  this,  fohcistyed 
 with  an  incomparably  ftronger  bond  to  ic,  than  to  all 
 the  world.  Now  of  this  Cort  is  the  Love  that  we  call 
 Charity,  which  is  an  high  devotion  to  our  Lord.  Who 
 fmce  he  is  Lord  of  all,  che  Lord  of  life  and  glory,  the 
 Author  of  eternal  Salvation,  the  only  begotten  of  the 
 Father,  full  of  Grace  and  Truth ;  if  it  were  poflible  for 
 ro  to  leave  Come  things  that  are  better  than  our  felves, 
 in  expectation  of  fomething  better  than  them,to  Which 
 we  will  give  that  Love  which  they  have  Ioft^  yet  he 
 will  make  us  love  him  eternally  above  all,  and  live  in 
 infeparable  union  with  him,  becaufe  there  is  nothing 
 elfe  fuperiour  to  him  on  which  to  beftow  our  Love  if 
 We  take  it  from  him.  If  we  once  fmcerely  love  him, 
 if  we  become  one  with  him,  it  is  manifeftly  in  the  na- 
 ture of  this  fublime  aflfecTion,  to  make  us  part  with 
 our  felves  for  his  fake :  to  refign  up  all  our  own  de- 
 iires  that  his  will  may  be  done  :  to  loie  whatfoever  we 
 call  ours,  that  we  may  keep  him  and  his  good  elteem 
 of  us.  It  is  not  poflible  that  we  mould  grant  our  con- 
 Cent  to  have  that  knot  untyed,  which  make*  us  part  of 
 Yuch  a  whole  whereof  the  Son  of  God  is  the  other  parr. 
 There  needs  nothing  to  keep  it  faft,  but  to  keep  us  in 
 our  wits.  And  therefore  fince  a  will  difUnct  from 
 his  will ,    makes  us  two  a^xin ;   we  fliall  always 
 
 comprimife 
 
The  Tai-able  of  the  (Pilgrinu  71 
 
 comprlmifc  with  his  will ,    that  we  may  continue 
 
 I  believe  now  you  think  ycu  ihall  make  a  mighty 
 purchafe,  if  you  can  but  procure  this  Companion  to 
 go  along  with  you.  It  is  apparent  to  you,  that  this 
 charity  will  help  and  inable  you  to  do  all  that  is  com- 
 manded you,  though  it  be  never  fo  much,  and  hard  to 
 be  other  wife  effected.  And  do  you  not  think  that  it 
 will  make  all  things  eafie  alfo  to  be  done  ?  Alas !  it 
 knows  no  difference  between  doing  and  fuffering,  but 
 only  this,  that  it  chufes  the  latter  many  times  as  a  noble 
 teftimony  to  its  fincerity  and  truth,  Nothing  will 
 feem  abfurd,  nothing  will  be  thought  mil- becoming, 
 nothing  will  appear  difficult  when  once  you  are  in 
 Love.  It  is  well  compared  to  an  Artificial  Glafs,  which 
 when  we  look  thorow,  an  enemy  feems  a  friend,  dif- 
 grace  is  rend  red  an  honour,  and  hardships  looks  like  a 
 pleafure.  The  Love  of  Chrift  you  know,  caufed  him 
 to  make  himfelf  of  no  reputation.  It  preferved  his 
 Majefty,  and  made  it  feem  no  difparagement  to  be  fo 
 low  as  a  fervant,  and  to  court  his  Vaflals.  It  hath 
 this  priviledge  that  it  cannot  be  defamed.  And  it  hath 
 this  generofity,  that  it  cannot  learn  to  deny.  Ask  any 
 thing  of  it,  and  it  will  make  no  difficulty  to  give  it. 
 Nay,  ask  a  Coat,  and  it  will  give  the  Gloak  alfo. 
 Ask  it  to  go  a  mile  with  you,  and  it  will  go  two.  Ask  ic 
 to  forgive  one  injury,  and  it  will  forgive  an  hundred. 
 Ask  it  to  render  you  a  fervice,  and  it  will  ferve  you 
 with  its  whole  felf.  So  that  I  think  one  of  the  ancient 
 Guides  of  the  Church  had  reafon,  whofaid,  Love  y  Ami 
 do  what  then  rvilt.  Take  thine  own  courfe,  fo  that  thou 
 doft  but  heartily  Love.  This  is  a  thing  fo  powerful, 
 that  it  withftands  our  temperament,  and  refills  our 
 L  moft 
 
■?Jt  ■  The  f  arable  of  the  fllgrlm. 
 
 moft  natural  inclinations.  It  claps  a  new  Biafs  upnn 
 our  hearts ;  it  carries  us  againft  the  ftream  and  cide 
 of  fenfitive  deflres  5  it  breaks  the  chains  of  cuflom  ; 
 it  roots  up  inveterate  habits  ;  it  is  of  fuch  vaft  force, 
 that  it  makes  us  vanquifh  our  telves,  and  obliges  us  to 
 deftroyour  own  pleafures,  that  we  may  pleafe  ano- 
 ther. It  is  ftrangely  bountiful  and  liberal  with  all, 
 thinking  it  can  never  do  enough  to  make  it  felf  known 
 to  thofe  whom  it  loves.  From  whence  it  is,  that 
 whereas  they  who  live  only  in  a  fear  and  dread  of 
 God  have  ftarv'd  and  half  dead  affections  to  him , 
 which  makes  them  do  but  little,  and  that  with  a  pen- 
 fivenefs  and  fadnefs,  as  if  they  defired  to  be  excufed : 
 They  whofe  hearts  burn  with  Love  to  him,  have  all 
 their  powers  excited  thereby  to  do  their  beft  for  him.- 
 and  they  ftrain  themfelves  with  the  greateft  gladnefs 
 to  execute  his  pleafure  in  all  things.  And  to  fay  the* 
 truth,  there  is  no  paflion  of  the  foul,  but  Love  hath  it 
 at  its  full  command.  They  all  owe  their  Original  to 
 Love,  and  would  have  no  being  at  all  if  it  were  not  in 
 the  foul  before  them.  If  there  were  no  Love  im- 
 planted by  God  in  our  natures,  there  would  be  no 
 defire,  no  hatred  }  no  grief,  no  joy  ;  no  fear,  no  de- 
 fpair  ;  for  all  thefe  grow  upon  this  fingle  root,  or  ra- 
 ther are  but  Love  (hooting  forth  in  divers  fhapes. 
 They  are  I  fay  but  feveral  motions  which  Love  caufes  •, 
 the  different  figures  which  it  afTumes  according  as  the 
 object  and  occafions  require.  It  is  Love  which  de- 
 fires  when  the  thing  is  abfent,  which  hates  that  which 
 would  fpoil  its  injoyments ;  which  grieves  for  the  lofs, 
 or  fears  the  departure,  which  defpairs  of  the  coming, 
 or  joys  in  the  prefence  of  a  beloved  good.  Whac 
 therefore  mould  that  be,  which  Love  cannot  do ;  fee- 
 ing it  carries  all  thefe  along  with  it,  and  leads  the 
 
 whole 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim]  75 
 
 whole  foul  thither,  whither  it  goes  it  felf  t  It  is  an 
 active  and  bufie  affection  •  having  as  much  Vivacity 
 as  it  hath  ftrength.  Its  life  confifts  in  motion  •,  and 
 like  to  the  Heart  it  ceafes  to  live  when  it  ceafcs  to  ftir. 
 It  is  painted  you  know  with  wings,  and  will  make  you 
 fly  rather  than  go  to  Jerufalem.  It  is  like  to  Fire 
 which  is  both  a  greedy  and  a  fierce  Element.  A  very 
 covetous  affection  I  mean,  that  thinks  it  never  hath 
 enough  of  that  which  it  defires ;  and  fo  earned  and 
 vehement  that  it  never  refts  till  it  hath  fpent  it  felf  up- 
 on its  beloved.  It  is  like  the  holy  fire  which  God  fenc 
 from  Heaven,  which  was  found  unextinguished  at  the 
 return  from  Babylon  ( as  the  Hebrews  fay  J  in  the  bot- 
 tom of  a  Well,  all  covered  with  mud  and  dirt.  Much 
 water  from  without  cannot  quench  it  5  and  the  dul- 
 nefs  and  heavinefs  of  our  own  temper  cannot  reprefs 
 it.  But  as  fire  elevates  the  matter  to  which  it  takes, 
 though  it  be  never  fo  grofs  and  ponderous :  So  doth 
 Love  raifethe  hearts  wherein  it  makes  an  impreflion, 
 and  ftirs  them  up  to  actions  far  iurmounting  their 
 Age,  their  breeding  and  condition.  There  is  a  cer- 
 tain chearfulnefs  alio  in  this  affection ,  like  to  the 
 mining  and  brightnefs  of  fire,  which  contributes 
 much  to  the  augmenting  of  its  activity.  It  difTufeth 
 a  fecret  joy  through  the  whole  foul  which  cannot  be 
 diffembled  5  fcut  carts  a  fplendor  into  the  countenance 
 of  thofe  in  whom  it  refides.  Though  Melancholy 
 indeed  is  fometimes  the  companion  of  other  Love,  yet 
 it  cannot  find  fo  eafie  accefs  to  Divine  Charity :  For 
 that  which  the  one  wants,  the  other  hath,  and  thac 
 which  the  one  doubts  of,  the  other  neceiTarily  fup- 
 pofes.  Is  not  this  the  common  caufe  of  fuch  fadnefs, 
 that  Love  meets  with  no  return  from  an  heart  to 
 which  it  hath  given  its  own,  or  is  in  defpair  of  over- 
 L  2  coming 
 
7£  The  Parable  of  the  filgrim. 
 
 coming  all  the  obftaclesof  its  fatisfaction  i  But  thefe 
 are  things  that  cannot  find  a  place  in  this  heaven- 
 born  affection,  which  is  nothing  elfe  but  a  return  of 
 our  Love  to  God  who  hath  loved  us  firft,  and  thereby 
 given  us  afTurance  that  he  is  defirous  to  be  enjoyed  by 
 us.  All  the  heavinefs  then  of  pious  fouls,  is  when  they 
 cannot  make  fuch  returns  as  they  wi(h,  not  when  they 
 feel  this  flame  within  them  >  for  then  they  are  ftrange- 
 lypleafed  and  raviflied  with  joy,  both  becaufe  it  is  an 
 effect  of  the  Love  of  God  to  them,  and  becaufe  hereby 
 they  do  actually  enjoy  him.  Now  as  melancholy  and 
 fadnefs  do  opprefs  the  fpirits,  and  make  us  lazy  and 
 unwilling  to  ftir  •  fo  this  cheerfulnefs  and  lightfom- 
 nefs  of  mind  which  Loveinfufes  do  fee  them  free,  and 
 render  us  aclive  and  vigorous  in  our  motion.  Melan- 
 choly is  a  Ltthargick  humour ,  and  binds  up  all  the 
 powers,  becaufe  its  frozen  difpofition  imagines  all 
 things  impofiible  to  be  either  done  or  avoided :  but 
 cheerfulnefs  by  its  heat  and  warmth  gives  us  fome  de- 
 gree of  confidence  that  things  are  not  fo  hard  to  be 
 undertaken,  and  it  thaws,  melts  and  loofensour  fa- 
 culties into  freedom  and  liberty,  whereby  we  become 
 of  a  lively->  forward  and  ready  difpofition.  Love  there- 
 fore being  of  this  pleafant  and  cheerful  nature,  you 
 fee  muft  needs  both  quicken  your  fpirit,  and  facilitate 
 your  work.  Nay,  it  is  apt  to  excite  and  infpire  others 
 who  come  near  us,  and  therefore  much  more  our  fel  ves. 
 Cheerfulnefs  and  the  love  from  whence  it  fprings, 
 makes  our  countenance  fmooth  and  clear,  and  invites 
 others  into  our  Society.  When  this  paflion  ftirs  in 
 the  heart ,  the  face  is  all  over  touched  with  the  fweec- 
 nefs  of  it,  which  both  intices  and  enlivens  thofe  that 
 approach  us.  How  is  it  poflible  then  that  we  fliould 
 not  feel  thefe  effects  of  it  our  felves,  that  are  fo  fcniible 
 
Tie  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  7  7 
 
 toothers  f  or  what  heart  is  there  fo  cold  and  indif- 
 ferent, that  would  not  be  poflefTed  with  this  affection 
 which  is  as  ufeful  as  delightful,  and  whofe  benefits 
 redound  to  our  neighbours,  and  ftay  not  in  our  feives  ? 
 It  will  not  let  us  be  a  terrour  to  our  own  fouls,  nor 
 appear  with  fuch  a  difmal  afpect  that  we  mould  fcarc 
 and  affright  others.  It  will  not  drive  others  from 
 Piety  while  it  carries  us  unto  it.  It  will  not  iuffcr  us 
 to  put  Religion  on  the  rack  that  we  m3y  look  fcvere. 
 And  it  is  far  from  making  us  appear  i'o,  as  though  we 
 imagine  we  could  not  be  laved,  unlefs  we  make  an  ugl  y 
 face. 
 
 What  fliall  I  fay  more  i  need  I  tell  you  that  Love  is 
 full  of  imitation,  and  forces  us  to  conform  our  feives  to 
 the  humour  and  difpofition  of  him  whom  we  Love  1 
 There  is  a  Granger  property  by  far  than  this,  which 
 will  make  you  open  your  heart  to  it ;  and  that  is  a 
 lingular  Sagacity  which  it  is  Mafter  of,  whereby  it 
 knows  what  is  fit  to  be  done  without  any  teaching. 
 If  you  were  fully  in  the  power  of  it,  it  would  go  near 
 to  render  me  of  no  life,  being  it  felf  inftead  of  twenty 
 Matters.  It  knows  what  will  pleafe  before  it  be  told, 
 and  fees  what  is  acceptable  without  a  director.  It 
 hath  eyes  of  its  own  to  find  out  its  way,  and  by  its  in- 
 nate wifdom  would  lead  you  ftreighc  to  Jerusalem. 
 It  is  very  skilful  to ipy  out  its  duty,  and  hath  a  quick 
 perception  of  what  is  befitting  in  every  palfage  of  life. 
 In  fo  much  that  when  a  man  begins  to  love,  he  begins 
 to  know  how  to  guide  himfelf.  His  love  will  fuggeft 
 unto  him  many  things  which  he  ought  to  do«  and  be 
 inftead  of  a  thoufand  Monitors  to  put  him  upon  the 
 doing  of  them.  It  will  make  a  man  de  cry  the  leift 
 faults  in  himfelf,  though  it  hide  them  in  others.     Ic 
 
 notes 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 no: es  an  undecency  with  as  much  feverity,  as  another  • 
 rnarks  a  grofs  impurity.  It  labours  to  overcome  the 
 fmalleft  infirmity,  and  weeps  more  for  a  mote  in  its 
 eye,  than  others  do  for  a  beam.  Nay  it  is  afflicted 
 for  thofe  things  which  no  body  fees,  (ave  only  it  felf. 
 It  blufhes  more  tor  a  vain  thought,  than  the  reft  of  the 
 world  do  for  a  monftrous  act.  It  hath  a  curiofity  about 
 thofe  little  ciicumftances,  which  all  men  are  wont  to 
 overfee  or  neglect.  Its  nicenefs  and  delicacy  is  fogreat, 
 that  it  abhors  the  very  fhadow  of  all  evil.  And  it  every 
 way  ft  rives  to  adorn  it  felf  with  fuch  accuracy-,that  there 
 may  not  be  the  leaft  fpeck  to  render  it  lefs  fair  and  beau- 
 tiful in  the  eyes  of  God. 
 
 Love  therefore,  I  befeech  you,  Love  as  much  as  ever 
 you  are  able,  if  you  mean  to  be  happy.  Make  your 
 heart  ready  as  an  Altar,  for  this  Fire  from  above  to 
 defcend  upon  it.  Prepare  your  felf  as  a  Sacrifice  to 
 be  offered  up  in  this  Holy  flame  to  the  Lord  of  Love. 
 Let  all  the  world  know  that  you  are  a  <:onfecrated 
 thing :  tell  it  that  you  cannot  entertain  its  fuit,  nor 
 unhallow  the  place  where  heaven  is  pleafed  to  dwell. 
 Yield  your  felf  a  capive  to  this  mighty  Conquerour, 
 whereby  you  will  be  inabled  to  conquer  all  things  elfe. 
 Subject  your  felf  to  the  power  of  that,  which  will 
 bring  the  Devil,  the  World,  and  the  Flefh  under  your 
 feet.  Let  it  take  away  your  liberty  of  doing  what 
 you  pleafe,  that  it  may  make  you  free  to  do  as  you 
 ought.  Poflefs  it  of  your  foul  intirely,  and  fuffer  it  to 
 inipire  all  ycur  defires,  and  to  order  all  your  motions, 
 and  it  will  not  fail  to  poflefs  you  of  that  blefled  place 
 to  which  you  wifti  to  be  conducted.  And  is  this  any 
 difficult  thing  that  I  require  of  you?  I  mould  rather 
 think  that  we  are  highly  obliged  to  God  for  making 
 
 the 
 
Tk  T 'arable  of  the  'Pilgrim.  79 
 
 the  wayto  Jcrufalem  fo  ealie,  and  our  arriving  there 
 fo  certain  as  it  is.  For  Love  is  the  moft  natural  and  plca- 
 fant  thing  in  the  world,  which  will  certainly  bring  us 
 thither,  and  God  being  fo  lovely,  and  having  loved  us 
 fomuch,  one  would  think  it  fhoud  be  an  eafie  thing 
 to  beget  it  in  our  hearts.  Do  you  not  mark  how  a 
 Dogloves  you,  if  you  do  but  throw  him  a  bone  or 
 fome  fuch  thing,  which  to  you  is  of  no  ufe  or  worth  ac 
 all  i  For  this  he  fawns  upon  you  •,  for  this  he  flays 
 in  your  houfe,  and  keeps  your  door,  and  defends  your 
 goods;  this  makes  him  follow  you  at  the  heels  if  you 
 pleafe,  to  travel  with  you  long  Journeys,  to  forfake  all 
 o;her  Matters  for  your  fervice,  and  many  times  to  dye 
 with  your  though  it  be  a  poor  thing,  which  you 
 know  not  what  to  do  withal,  unlefs  you  caft  it  unto 
 him.  How  can  you  chufe  then  but  love  Jefus,  and  be 
 at  his  command,  and  follow  his  fteps,  aud  leave  all 
 others  for  his  fake,  and  even  give  yojr  life  to  him, 
 which  hath  given  you  not  a  thing  of  no  value,  nor  thac 
 which  coft  him  nothing,  or  that  which  he  could  not 
 tell  what  to  do  withal,  buc  himfelf,  his  holy  blood, 
 his  precious  promifes,.  which  it  coft  an  infinite  deal  of 
 pain  to  feal  and  ratifie  unto  you.  Arc  you  ftill  in- 
 fenfible  of  his  favours  when  you  think  of  this:'  Are 
 you  ftill  to  learn  to  Love,  when  fuch  a  weight  <i(  Love 
 as  this  doth  prefs  your  heart  I  If  fuch  a  thought  could 
 enter  my  mind,  I  would  fend  you  to  the  brutes  tobs 
 their  Scholar  •  I  would  call  your  Spaniel,  an  J  bid  him 
 teach  you;  I  would  ceafe  to  be  your  Inftruftor  any 
 longer,  and  put  you  there  to  learn  the  arTecYton  you 
 owe  to  your  deareft  Lord,  and  Mailer.  But  your 
 blnfhes  bid  me  fpare  this  language,  and  feem  to  allure 
 me  both  that  you  are  afhamed  to  owe  your  vertue  to 
 fuch  examples,  and  chat  you  feel  alrcaiy  this  flame 
 
 inkindled- 
 
Bo  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim". 
 
 inkindled  in  your  heart.  Feed  it  I  befecch  you  con: 
 tinually,  and  let  it  increafe  unto  greater  ardors  of  Love, 
 as  it  will  infalliby,  if  you  do  but  confider  what  great 
 things  your  Saviour  hath  done  for  you,  and  that  he  is 
 ftil I  bufie  in  procuring  your  good  ;  and  in  ihort,  that 
 there  is  not  an  hour,  not  a  moment  wherein  you  do 
 not  (land  indebted  to  him  for  eternal  bleflings,  or  for 
 the  means  of  them,  or  for  the  grace  to  help  you  to  at- 
 tain them. 
 
 And  indeed  the  poor  Pilgrims  heart  did  beat  at 
 fuch  a  rate,  that  it  feemed  to  knock  againft  his  ribs. 
 He  was  fet  all  on  fire  with  thefe  words,  and  at  laft 
 found  means  to  vent  himfelf,  and  burft  out  in  fuch  ex- 
 preflions  as  thefe.  OSir,  what  have  you  done !  1  feel 
 the  Love  of  Jelus  burn  fo  vehemently  in  my  bread, 
 that  I  (hall  be  devoured  by  ir,  if  it  laft  a  moment  lon- 
 ger in  this  force.  I  have  fcarce  any  breath  left  to  tell 
 you,  that  you  have  made  me  love  your  felf  alfo  with  a 
 violent  paflion.  I  have  no  power  no  more  than  de- 
 fire  to  refift  this  Almighty  Lover  of  Souls.  I  render 
 my  felf  his  prifoner,  and  wifh  to  be  eternally  held  in 
 his  chains.  You  have  linkt  me  to  your  felf  too  fo  faft, 
 that  I  am  at  once  become  his  (lave,  and  your  fervant. 
 I  would  go  to  the  worlds  end  to  feek  thefe  two  Com- 
 panions, Humility  and  Charity  >  if  they  were  not  alrea- 
 dy become  my  guefts  by  your  means.  You  have  given 
 me  a  greater  treafare  than  I  thought  to  find  in  thofe 
 few  words  which  I  received  from  you ;  and  methinks 
 1  feel  already  that  Jam  nought ',  and  I  have  nought ,  and 
 I  defirc  nought  but  Jefu*  and  Jerufdlem.  If  it  be  noc 
 abfurdto  fpeak  in  fuch  terms,  I  am  in  love  with  this 
 Love  which  you  have  cefcribed.  I  fee  methinks 
 Humility  and  all  things  elfe  in  its  arms.   I  embrace 
 
 them 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  8 1 
 
 them  both  with  all  my  foul.  I  welcome  them  with  my 
 beft  affections  into  my  heart.  And  if  I  had  more  hearts 
 than  one,  I  would  offer  them  all  to  the  Humble  Love 
 of  my  lwectelt  Saviour.  Goon,  Sir,  as  long  as  you 
 pleale,-if  you  have  not  taught  me  all  my  LeiTon  in  teach- 
 ing me  to  Love,  You  have  tied  my  ears  to  your  tongue, 
 and  they  cannot  but  liftcn  to  your  fpeech.  Nor  (hall  I  ' 
 ever  feel  any  wearmefs  in  hearing  of  you  •,  for  you  have 
 made  me  in  Love  with  your  difcourfe,  by  breathing  the 
 Love  of  my  Lord  into  my  heart. 
 
 Here  he  making  a  little  reft,  the  Guide  had  leave  to 
 re  fume  his  office:  though  he  was  fo  filled  with  joy  to 
 fee  the  good  effects  of  what  he  had  faid,  that  it  was 
 not  eaiic  on  a  fudden  to  find  room  for  any  other 
 thoughts.  The  defire  alfo  tfeat  he  felt  of  fpeaking 
 fomething  extraordinary  on  this  occafion,  had  like  to 
 have  impoled  iilence  on  him,  and  denied  a  palTage  to 
 his  words.  But  his  prudence  telling  him  how  ne- 
 ceilary  it  was  to  keep  himfelf  now  from  fuch  tran- 
 fports,  he  foon  reduced  himfelf  to  his  ufual  temper,  and 
 thus  began  to  renew  his  difcourfe.  It  is  no  wonder  to 
 find  that  Jefus  captivates  hearts,  and  that  the  Love  of 
 a  dying  Saviour  is  fo  powerful  as  to  enthrall  them  to 
 his  fervice.  All  that  furprizes  me  is  no  more  than  this, 
 that  fuch  feeble  words  as  mine  fhould  fo  fenfibly  touch 
 your  inclinations  to  him,  and  with  fuch  fpced  excite  fo 
 high  a  degree  of  Love  in  your  heart.  It  gives  me 
 great  encouragement  to  continue  my  inltru&ions,  and 
 affords  no  lefs  encouragement  to  your  felf  to  continue 
 your  attention ;  For  if  you  are  already  under  the  power 
 of  Love  by  what  hath  been  now  delivered,  I  (hall 
 make  you  love  unmeafurably  before  I  have  finimed 
 this  difcourfe.  You  have  feen  but  half  of  the  riches  of 
 M  that 
 
g  £  71jb  farahle  of  the  Vilgr  hn. 
 
 that  golden  fentence,  and  there  are  greater  fccrets  ftill 
 behind  in  thofe  two  precious  words  which  arc  at  the 
 conclufion  of  it.  For  I  pray  you  fatisfle  me  in  this  de- 
 mand-, Hive  you  well  considered  whztjerufatem  is, 
 to  which  you  now  direct  your  face  i  I  will  not  flay  for 
 your  anfwer,  but  proceed  to  tell  you  that  1  am  now 
 going  to  give  ycu  fuch  an  Idea,  of  it,  that  if  you  keep 
 it  freih  in  your  mind,  you  cannot  imagine  how  it  will 
 fnatch  you  from  the  World,  and  heighten  your  love 
 unto  your  Saviour,  and  lift  you  quite  out  of  your  own 
 will,  if  you  had  a  mind  to  fall  into  it  back  again.  And 
 truly  I  cannot  think  that  you  mould  have  any  great  lift 
 to  travel  long,  or  that  you  mould  not  foon  feel  a  wer- 
 rinefs  to  invade  your  members  ;  if  you  go  you  know 
 not  whither,  and  carry  not  along  with  you  a  true  in- 
 formation of  the  happy  repofe  you  are  like  to  meet 
 withal  at  your  Journies  end.  Let  Jerusalem  then  be 
 the  fubjeft  of  our  next  difcourfe,  and  fufTer  your  eyes  to 
 be  drawn  to  that  bleffed  place,which  1  believe  you  have 
 often  heard  commended,  as  the  Perfection  of  Beautyr 
 And  the  Joy  of  the  whole  Earth. 
 
 CHAP.   XIII. 
 
 A  Description  tfthe  City  Jerufalem  :  and  of  the  happ't- 
 m ?fs  he  fbottld there  meet  vpithal. 
 
 I  Have  no  faculty  ( it  muft  be  confetfed  )  of  making 
 good  defcriptions  of  thofe  places  which  I  have  feen, 
 and  therefore  it  muft  not  be  expected  that  I  paint  you 
 exactly  a  place  which  I  know  but  by  report.  It  is  fuf- 
 ficient  that  I  tell  you  nothing  but  the  truth,  and  do 
 not  imitate  them  who  fill  their  Maps  with  chtmeras 
 
 of 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  83 
 
 of  their  own  brain  :  though  I  do  not:  compleatly  de- 
 lineate every  part  of  it  >  but  leave  many  (paces  void  to 
 be  filled  up  by  your  felf  when  you  (hall  have  the  hap- 
 pinefs  to  arrive  there.  Know  then,  that  as  to  the  fci- 
 tuationof  this  City,  it  is  agreed  by  all  to  be  incompa- 
 rably fweet,  beyond  the  faireft  place  that  this  world  of 
 ours  doth  afford.  For  it  is  feated  upon  a  very  high 
 Mountain,  loftier  than  Olymptu it  felf;  which  yet  is 
 faid  to  lift  its  head  above  the  Clouds,  and  to  be  ob- 
 noxious to  none  of  our  Storms  and  Tempefb;  and  to 
 be  deprived  of  the  Sun  beams  by  nothing  elfe,  but  on- 
 ly the  night  it  felf.  It  is  advanced  I  fay  far  above  the 
 higheft  parr  of  this  heavy  Earth  and  foggy  Air,  afpi- 
 nng  into  the  purer  Skie  $  where  the  Sun  never  with- 
 draws it  rayc,  and  where  there  is  not  the  leaft  fha- 
 dow  of  Mift  or  Vapour,  either  to  obfeure  its  light,  or 
 to  offend  the  molt  delicate  fenfe  that  can  be  con- 
 ceived. There  are  nothing  but  pure  and  fragrant 
 odours  which  perfume  that  happy  climate;  thereisa 
 perpetual  calm  and  quiet  which  reigns  in  that  noble 
 region  ;  there  is  no  noife  but  that  which  infinitely  de- 
 lights and  charms  the  foul  into  (till  and  quiet  medita- 
 tions. But  that  which  is  of  greateft  remark  and  mod: 
 to  be  remembred,  is,  the  glorious  ProfpeCt  which  a 
 place  of  this  advantage  yields.  All  the  World  here 
 prefents  it  felf  before  ones  eyes ;  and  makes  them  the 
 Center  in  which  the  beauty  and  glory  of  it  confpires 
 to  meet.  I  would  not  have  you  think  I  mean  a  World 
 fo  [mail  as  that  which  we  inhabit  upon  this  Globe  of 
 Earth  ;  but  one  which  comprehends  the  Sun  and 
 Moon  and  all  other  adjoyning  Orbs,  which  are  there 
 beheld  to  move  in  comely  meafures  about  that  Prince 
 of  Lights.  Thofe  Balls  of  Fire  which  you  fee  fixed 
 in  the  firmament  fo  remote  from  you,  will  fall  into 
 M  2  your 
 
g 4  Tfx  Varahle  of  the  filgrim. 
 
 your  better  view :  who  though  they  Icem  here  bat 
 like  bliuking  Candles  and  fickly  flames,  will  there  ap- 
 pear moft  noble  light,  defigned  for  fome  greater  end., 
 than  to  lend  us"  a  feeble  comfort  in  the  night.  It  will 
 be  infinitely  contenting  to  fee  the  beauty  and  fair  pro- 
 portions of  every  partof  this  vaft  frame  ;  thefltnels, 
 ufefulnefs  and  correfpondence  of  it  to  all  the  reft  of 
 its  rieighbouring  parts ;  together  with  the  exadi  and 
 admirable  order  of  the  Whole.  And  can  you  imagine 
 into  what  tranfports  it  will  caft  your  foul  to  hear  the 
 praifes  of  the  Creator  fung  by  ail  his  works  of  won- 
 der i  and  yet  that  is  another  priviledge  of  this  blef- 
 fed  place,  by  the  advantage  of  whofe  holy  illcnce,  you 
 will  receive  the  chearful  hymns  wherewith  every 
 creature  you  behold,  doth  celebrate  the  wifdom,  power 
 and  goodnefs  of  him  that  made  it.  You  have  heard 
 (no  doubt)  of  the  Mufick  of  the  Spheres,  which  they 
 fay  would  ravifli  fouls  from  thefe  mortal  bodies,  mould 
 it  but  ftrongly  touch  their  ears  5  and  therefore  is  al- 
 moft  drowned  by  the  noife  and  clatter  of  this  lower 
 World.  This  is  it  which  I  am  now  commending  to 
 you ,  that  fweet  confent  which  all  creatures  make 
 among  thcmfelves,  that  rare  harmony  which  there  is 
 in  the  motion  of  all  the  heavenly  Orbs  5  which  ftnkcs 
 the  mind  fo  agreeably,  that  one  cannot  chufe  but  dance 
 for  joy  together  with  them.  But  it  is  the  proper  en- 
 tertainment of  thofe  who  dwell  in  that  (till  Region,  in 
 which  alone  it  can  be  diftinclly  heard;  and  where  an 
 everlaftingfong  to  the  Creator  of  all  doth  melt  their 
 hearts  to  jpyn  in  contort  with  that  Univerfal  Has- 
 imony. 
 
 But  yet  the  place  is  nothing  fo  confiderable  as  the 
 Perfons  that  inhabit  it ;  nor  will  it  be  fo  uftful  to  draw 
 
 their 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Tdgrbn.  8  c 
 
 their  P.ftures  curioufly  as  to  defcribe  their  life  and 
 manners.      Enquire  not  therefore  of  the  vaftnefs  of 
 
 this  place,  the  ftatelinefs  of  itb  buildings,  [he  riches  of 
 their  furnitue,  and  fach  like  things ;  but  know  that 
 it  is  the  City  of  the  Great  King :  the  feat  of  the  Impe- 
 rial Majefty  of  Heaven  and  Earth:  the  place  where 
 the  Lord  and  Goveinour  of  the  whole  World,  whole- 
 Dominion  is  an  everlaftmg  Dominion,  and  who  reign<= 
 through  all  generations,  keeps  his  Court.  Do  you 
 not  think  it  will  be  a  pleafing  amazing  light  to  behold 
 the  Majefty  of  his  Glory  i  Or,  What  greater  happi- 
 nefs  can  you  willv,  if  you  were  to  be  thedifpofer  of 
 your  own  fortune,  than  alway  to  fhnd  before  the  So- 
 veraign  of  the  World,  as  one  of  his  Mounters  and  Ac- 
 tem'ants-  and  to  live  in  his  bkfled  pre  fence,  as  one 
 whom  he  highly  favours?  To  behold  the  wifdom  of 
 his  Government ,  the  rightecufnefs  and  gocdnefs  of 
 his  Laws,  the  admirable  contrivance  of  all  his  Work*, 
 the  Univerfal  care  which  he  takes  of  all  his  Creatures, 
 the  infinite  extent  of  his  Providence,  and  the  power  of 
 his  Authority,  whereby  he  doth  whatfoevcr  he  pleafes 
 in  Heaven  and  Earth,  and  Sea,  and  all  deep  places.  To 
 fee  how  he  brings  thofe  things  together  which  were 
 removed  far  afunder ;  and  diiiolves  the  combinations 
 and  confederacies  of  thofe  things  which  wereclofci y 
 united.  To  contemplate  how  he  hereby  makes  thofe 
 defigns  abortive,  which  were  juft  bringing  forth  •  how 
 he  difappoints  the  devices  of  the  crafty,  and  confounds 
 all  thafubtilty  of  the  world,  and  catches  it  in  its  own 
 fnares.  It  will  ftrangely  tranfp.  rt  you  to  fee  the  beau- 
 ty of  his  Holinefs,  the  fp'.cndour  and  brighenefs  of  his 
 Underftanding,  thelargencfs  of  his  L">ve,  his  uncor 
 rupted  Juftice,  his  unexhauftcd  Goodnefs ,  his  im- 
 moveable Truth,   his  uncontrolabk  Power,   his  vaft 
 
 Dominion* 
 
TJieParable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 Dominions,  -which  yet  he  fills  with  his  prefence,  and 
 adminifters  their  affairs  with  eafe,   and  is  magnified 
 and  prailed  in  them  by  the  throng  of  all  his  creacures. 
 Thele   things  I   will   leave    to   your    own  privare 
 thoughts,  that  I  may  have  time  to  fpeak  of  the  reft  of 
 the  cceleitial  Inhabitants,   but  efpeciallly  of  the  Kings 
 Son,  who  is  a  principal  ornament  (if  I  may  fpeak  in  lb 
 low  a  phrale )  and  a  great  glory  of  this  place.     And 
 of  him  I  mall  need  to  tell  you  no  more  than  this,  that 
 in  his  perfon  there  is  to  be  feen  at  once  the  moft  illu- 
 ftrious  Lover  and  tvamour  that  ever  was.     His  Con- 
 quefts  have  been  innumerable.     His  Victories  no  Hi- 
 ftory  but  one  of  his  own  infpiring  is  able  to  recount. 
 He  hath  trodden  down  the  moft  potent  and  giantly 
 Enemies.     He  hath  triumphed  over  the  Powers  of 
 Earth  and  Air.     He  hath  trailed  the  greateft  Tyrant 
 that  ever  was  feen  at  his  Chariot- wheels.    And  there 
 is  oneuniverfal  triumph  of  his  overall  things  ftill  be- 
 hind., wherein  there  will  be  fpecial  marks  of  honour 
 fet  on  all  the  Citizens  of  Jerusalem,    who  are  to  bear 
 a  part  in  it  j   which  will  aftonifh  and  raviuh  all  their 
 hearts  with  Admiration,  Love,  and  Joy.    This  will  be 
 the  moft  fplendid  fhew,   the  moft  illuftrious  appea- 
 rance that  ever  the  Sun  faw ;    for  all  Angels,  and  all 
 Men,  all  that  ever  have  been,  are,  or  fhall  be,  will 
 there  be  fummoned  to  attend  in  fome  fort  or  other 
 upon  the  Pomp  of  that  great  day.     Then  all  the  Ci- 
 tizens of  'jerufalem  will  be  feen  with  Crowns  of  Gold 
 on  their  heads  which  this  great  Prince  will  Beftow 
 upon  them  ;    then  they  will  appear  on  the  Theatre  of 
 the  World,  as  fo  many  Kings  raigning  together  with 
 him ;  and  then  all  the  Heavens  will  ring  with  fhouts  of 
 joy  and  praife  to  him  that  redeemed  them,    as  they 
 march  along  in  his  train  thorow  the  Air  to  Jerufalcm. 
 
 For, 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  g7 
 
 For,  as  I  told  you,  he  is  the  mod  glorious  Lover  that 
 ever  was:    and  the  greamefs  of  his  valour  and  cou- 
 rage, doth  not  at  all  extinguish  his  noble  flames.     He 
 is  owner  of  the  mod  tender  heart  that  ever  was  in 
 any  breaft  •,   and  hath  rendred  himfelf  redoubtable  to 
 his  greateft  Enemies  by  nothing  more  than  this,    that 
 he  hath  won  lb  many  hearts,   and  triumphed  over  fo 
 many  brave  fouls,   who  were  vanquished  by  nothing 
 tile  but  the  power  of  his  mighty  Love.     Such  a  gene- 
 rous Lover  he  was,  that  though  he  was  rich,    he  be- 
 came poor,   that  they  on  whom  he  had  fct  his  heart 
 might  be  made  rich.     He  laid  alide  the  Robes  of  his 
 Glory,  that  they  might  be  inverted  with  them.    He 
 took  upon  him  the  (nape  of  a  fervant,   that  he  might 
 prefer  them  to  be  the  Sons  of  God5and  Heirs  of  a  King- 
 dom.    And  at  laft  he  voluntarily,  and  without  any 
 compulfion  but  that  of  his  Love,  died  upon  a  Crofs 
 to  fave  the  lives  of  thofe  who  were  fo  far  from  having 
 any  refentments  of  Love  to  him,   that  they  had  the 
 hearts  of  moft  defperate  Enemies  againft  him.     Fjr 
 you  mull  know,  that  he  is  fuch  a  Lord  of  Love ,  that  the 
 hatred  and  malignity  of  men  could  not  extinguifh  the 
 fervours  of  his  paflion.  All  the  difcourtefies  they  could 
 do  him,    were  not  able  to  prevail  with  him  to  lay  alide 
 his  thoughts  of  kindnefs  toward  them.     The  innume- 
 rable affronts  which  he  received  could  not  make  him  go 
 back  to  Heaven,and  forfake  this  ill  natured  World,  till 
 he  had  expreffed  all  the  Love  he  had  conceived  unro 
 it.     No,    he  died  for  thofe  who  took  away  his  life. 
 His  bowels  yearned  toward  thofe  who  were  ready  to 
 rake  into  them  with  their  bloody  hands.     His  hearc 
 burnt  with  affecYion  to  thofe  wretches,    that  cruelly 
 pierced  it,     and  thruft  it   thorow   with  a  Spear. 
 And  therefore  I  cannot  but  think  you  would  have 
 
 a  mind 
 
T7:e  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 a  mind  to  rake  a  journey  to  Jern\alemy  and  judge  your 
 pa'irts  and  travel  well  beftowed,  if  it  were  nothing 
 elfebut  to  fee  this  Mutinous  Peribn  5  efpccially  to  be- 
 held; him  in  all  his  glory,  and  his  htgheft  exaltation, 
 who  is  the  Patron  of  all  good  fouls,  the  great  Protc&or 
 of  "all  Pilgrims  cftfe  guide  and  reft  too  of  all  noble 
 Travellers-,  and  Who  bears  a  particular  affection  to 
 your  fel'fjtf'ho  hath  lutfered  lb  much  for  you  •  who  hath 
 lent  you  lb  many  mtflages  of  his  Love,  who  hath  en- 
 deared himfelf  to  ycu  by  a  thoufand  favours,  and  was 
 never  contented  till  he  brought  you  to  himfelf,  that 
 you  might  be  there  where  he  is,  and  behold  the  glory 
 which  bis  Father  hath  given  to  him.  There  he  in- 
 tends to  entertain  all  pious  men  with  an  everlafting 
 Supper,  to  make  them  a  never-ceafing  Jubilee;  and 
 treat  them  with  fuch  fumptuous  magnificence,  that 
 there  will  not  be  tongues  enough  among  them  all  to 
 publifh  his  praifes,  and  their  own  thankf ulnefs.  Only 
 you  muft  remember  that  the  entertainment  he  will  give 
 them,is  himfelf ;  and  that  they  will  feaft  eternally  upon 
 his  blelfed  face.  Their  happinefs  will  be  to  fee  God,  to 
 behold  the  glory  which  is  given  to  our  Lord ;  that  is  to 
 know  him,and  to  be  filled  with  his  Wifdam,  Love,and 
 Likenefs. 
 
 And  here,  left  Ifhouldnotbeunderftood,  and  you 
 fnould  imagine  the  happinefs  of  feeing  God  and  his  Son 
 to  be  lefs  than  it  is,  let  me  flop  a  while  to  explain  this 
 part  of  my  defcription  to  you,  before  I  pafs  unto  the 
 reft.  You  muft  not  then  conceive  that  the  pleafure  of 
 Jerufalem,  is  to  fit  whole  Ages,  and  meerly  to  gaze 
 upon  the  Divinity  5  or  that  they  who  enjoy  the  re- 
 pofe  of  that  happy  place,  do  nothing  elfe  but  feed  their 
 eyes  with  the  beauties  of  our  Saviours  face :  No,  thefe 
 
 are 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Ttlgrhn.  89 
 
 are  the  fancies  of  low  and  uninftru&ed  minds,  who 
 know  no  higher  enjoyments  than  thofe  of  fenfe.  To 
 fee  God,  will  be  to  have  fuch  a  knowledge  of  him  as 
 gives  our  hearts  a  powerful  touch,  and  ftrikes  them 
 with  fuch  a  lively  fenfe  of  him,  that  he  turns  them  per- 
 fectly into  his  nature,  and  transforms  them  intothe 
 Hkenefs  of  his  divine  excellencies.  This  glorious  ob- 
 ject doth,  as  I  may  fo  fpeak,  diffufeand  fpreadit  felf 
 all  over  inamour'd  fouls,  and  by  a  living  heat  doth 
 animate  them  into  the  fame  difpofition  with  it  felf. 
 The  beauty  on  which  they  fix  their  eyes,  doth  imprint 
 its  own  form  upon  their  hearts,  and  makes  them  fair 
 and  beautiful' with  the  fame  lovely  qualities  which 
 they  delight  to  behold.  They  do  not  bufie  themfelves 
 there,  as  men  imagine,  in  gaping  upon  the  fplendor 
 and  the  many  ornaments  of  that  place ;  but  they  them- 
 felves become  a  part  of  its  glory,  and  are  changed  in- 
 to that  on  which  they  fatten  their  eyes.  They  do  not 
 fpend  their  time  only  in  looking  upon  God,  and  cu- 
 noufly  prying  into  him ;  but  they  receive  him  into 
 their  hearts,  and  he  enters  into  their  fouls.  He  doth 
 not  guild  them  with  his  beams,  but  they  themfelves  be- 
 come Light  in  the  Lord.  There  is  not  a  glory  only 
 caft  about  them,  but  they  receive  fuch  rays  of  light 
 from  his  face,  as  dart  into  their  very  hearts,  and  dune 
 thorow  their  whole  fouls,  fo  that  they  alfo  become  lu- 
 min ous  and  bright.  They  are  fo  ravirtied  with  his 
 Goodnefs,  that  they  are  made  Good.  They  are  (o 
 affc&"d  with  his  Wifdom  that  they  become  Wife.  The 
 fenfe  they  have  of  his  incomparably  Purity,  renders 
 them  more  Holy  ;  and  his  dear  Love  fo  over- matters 
 their  fouls,  that  they  conform  in  all  things  to  his  hearts 
 defire,  and  it  fcems  as  if  both  their  hearrs  had  but 
 one  and  the  fame  motion.  In  (hort,  my  meaning  is,  thac 
 N  they 
 
p  0  The  far  able  of  the  Tilgrhn. 
 
 they  are  not  happy  at  Jerufalem  by  any  external  m- 
 joyment  of  God  (which  is  all  the  vulgar  conceit  doth 
 reach,  when  we  fpeak  of  feeing  his  glory)  but  they  arc 
 i  inwardly  moved  by  a  powerful  efflux  from  him,  which 
 quickens  them  into  the  fame  thoughts,  will  and  defire 
 with  himfelf.  Their  fouls  are  not  outwardly  painted 
 with  him,  and  fome  colours,  as  it  were,  of  his  Wifdom 
 and  Goodnefs  laid  upon  them  -,  but  they  are  rendred 
 living  Images  of  God,  and  really  changed  into  a  true 
 refemblance  of  that  which  they  behold.  It  is  not  fome 
 glory  that  appears  before  them  which  makes  them 
 bleflcd  ;  but  they  are  made  all  glorious  within,  and 
 become  themfelves  God-like  creatures.  They  do  not 
 behold  the  Divinity  only  without  themfelves,  but  they 
 fee  God  within  them ,  and  looking  into  their  own 
 fouls,  there  they  find  him,  and  arc  happy  in  him.  And 
 let  me  add  this  by  the  way,  as  I  pafs  to  other  things, 
 that  fuch  a  knowledge  and  participation  of  God  you 
 muft  purfue  in  this  world,  if  you  mean  to  come  to  Je- 
 rrtfalem.You  muft  here  be  partaker  of  a  Divine  Nature^ 
 and  now  be  transformed,  by  the  renewing  of  your  min^ 
 provingvphat  is  that  good,  and  per  feci,  and  Acceptable 
 will  of  God. 
 
 But  I  think  it  is  time  to  lead  you  to  other  Spectacles 
 which  are  worthy  your  fight,  and  to  tell  you  that  in 
 this  City,  all  the  glorious  Minifters  of  State  to  the 
 King  of  Kmgs^  have  their  Manfion-  houfes,  and  Noble 
 Palaces.  All  the  Hero's  of  ancient  days  do  here  make 
 their  abode.  Nay,  all  the  fpiritsof  jufTmen  that  are 
 made  perfect,  do  here  inhabit,  and  have  their  conftant 
 refijence.  And  all  thofe  glittering  Angels,  and  thofe 
 brave  minds  that  ever  flourish  in  this  heavenly  Court, 
 I  believe  ycu  will  think  fuiheient  of  themfelves,    if 
 
 there 
 
_        The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  p  I 
 
 there  were  nothing  elfe,  to  render  this  a  very  fplendid 
 place.  The  Laws  indeed  of  which  are  fuch,  that  none 
 can  be  permitted  to  live  there  but  Noble  men^  pcrfons 
 of  high  birth,  and  illuftnous  dtfeent  $  for  they  are  all 
 called  the  Sons  of  God.  But  that  which  gives  them 
 this  Nobility,  and  (lamps  fuch  an  honourable  title 
 upon  them,  is  not  fuch  poor  things  as  fwell  the  men  of 
 our  world  into  an  aiery  and  imaginary  greatnefs ;  but 
 the  height  of  their  minds,  the  purity  of  their  hearts, 
 and  the  excellent  qualities  wherewith  they  are  en- 
 dowed, which  intitle  them  to  the  kindred  of  God.  In- 
 fomuch  that  the  meaneft  Pilgrim  on  the  earth  that  is 
 found  worthy  by  reafon  of  his  virtuous  difpofition,  and 
 generous  fpirit,  to  be  admitted  a  Citizen  of  Jerttfa- 
 lem  •  inflantly  becomes  Noble,  and  is  inrolled  among 
 the  Princes  of  heavenly  Progeny.  Into  thisbleffed  fo- 
 ciety  then  when  once  you  are  received,  How  delight* 
 ful  do  you  think  their  company  and  acquaintance  will 
 prove?  Are  you  not  highly  pleafed  now  with  a  rare 
 Hiftory,  and  could  you  not  lend  your  ears  for  a  whole 
 day  to  hear  the  adventures  of  fome  one  famous  perfon  ? 
 And  yet  thefe  are  nothing  to  the  pleafures  that  they 
 can  entertain  you  withal.  There  were  never  fuch 
 things  yet  reported,  as  the  Inhabitants  of  Jerttfalem 
 will  be  ready  to  impart  and  communicate  with  you : 
 Who  can  tell  you  a  long  ftory  of  the  Love  of  God,  and 
 make  a  never-  ceafing  relation,  an  endlefs  hiftory  of  all 
 the  rare  parages  of  his  providence  throughout  the 
 whole  world.  They  can  prefent  you  with  a  thoufand 
 Abrahams,  and  as  many  Jofephs,  whofe  adventures 
 were  fo  ftrange,  that  ficYion  is  not  able  to  invent  any 
 thing  fo  furprifing.  Nay,  out  of  thofe  Countries  where 
 you  thought  there  was  nothing  but  horrid  defarts,  fal- 
 vage  fouls,  and  barbarous  cuftoms,  they  may  pro- 
 N  2  duce 
 
-z  Tl?e  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 duce  you  many  worthy  minds,   vvhofe  renowned  a<fts 
 it  will  give  you  an  infinite  j  >y  to  have  rehearfcd. 
 
 But  there  is  nothing,  I  believe,  will  touch  you  with 
 a  greater  inclination  to  their  convetfe,  than  the  know- 
 ledge of  the  lingular  love  and  friendmip  that  is  be- 
 tween all  the  Inhabitants  of  that  City:    provided  you 
 be  already  touched  with  any  fenfe  of  the  pleafure  of 
 that  noble  paflion.    They  are  a  people  1  told  you,   of 
 the  moft  excellent  nature,  and  the  fweeteft  difpofition 
 in  the  world.    They  are  void  of  all  deceit  and  guile  $ 
 of  all  hatred  and  envy,    of  all  covetoufnefs  and  felf- 
 love,  of  all  anger  and  r-eevifhnefs,  with  whatfoever 
 other  things  there  be  that  difturb  our  peace,  and  fpoil 
 our  converfe  here  below :   So  that  they  make  the  moft 
 agreeable  fociety  that  ever  was,    and  interchange  to 
 each  others  fuch  pleafures  as  my  tongue  hath  not  ex- 
 preffions  powerful  enough  to  paint  them  forth.    There 
 is  no  ftrangenefs  at  all  among  them.     You  can  meet 
 no  body  there,    but  they  will  entertain  you  with  as 
 much  kindnefs  and  fincerity  as  if  they  had  known 
 you  many  years.    And  when  many  come  together  in 
 one  place,  there  is  no  danger  of  their  jarring,  by  reafon 
 of  their  different  fentiments ;   but  they  bring  a  great 
 addition  of  pleafure,  and  make  the  moft  delicious  har- 
 mony that  ever  moved  the  heart  of  man .    There  they 
 entwine  in  the  deareft  embraces.     There  they  open 
 to  each  other  their  very  hearts.     There  they  ftudy  to 
 increafe,  not  to  diminifh  their  mutual  happinefs.  There 
 they  chink  all  that  another  enjoys,  is  as  if  they  did  en- 
 joy it  themfelves.     And  what  they  have  of  their  own, 
 it  is  not  for  themfelves  alone,    but  for  every  body  elfe. 
 There  ycu  mail  meet  with  no  pale  fears,  no  aoxious 
 cares.,  nofruitlefswimcs,  no  tormenting  jealoufies,  and 
 
 no 
 
TheTaubleoftheTtlgrhn.  :U 
 
 no  amorous  fighs  neither  •  for  every  one  will  love 
 others  as  much  as  they  defire,  and  wilh  for  no  return 
 again,  but  only  Love.  If  there  be  any  particular 
 Friendfhips  there ,  they  do  not  at  all  (poil  the  univer- 
 fal  kindnefs  of  the  place.  Others  will  not  be  loved 
 the  worfe  for  them,  but  rather  loved  better ;  becaufe 
 they  will  teach  thofe  united  hearts  the  greateft  Love. 
 They  maybe  efteemed  alfo  one  of  the  beauteous  fpe- 
 Ctecles  of  the  place^  and  be  reckoned  among  the  grate- 
 ful varieties  which  will  entertain  us :  When  after  the 
 pleafures  of  a  more  general  and  large  converfation , 
 everyone  may  retire  to  the  company  of  thofe  he  loveth 
 moft. 
 
 There  you  will  be  met  with  fuch  great  and  mining 
 lights  as  St.  Paul,  who  fet  all  the  world  on  fire  with  the 
 flames  of  their  love.  You  will  fall  into  the  company 
 of  thofe  burning  hearts  who  were  martyr'd  firft  by 
 their  own  Love,  and  then  by  their  Persecutors  fury 
 for  the  good  of  the  world.  And  do  you  think  they 
 have  put  off  their  affections  when  they  laid  afide  their 
 rags  of  flefh  i  Did  all  their  fire  go  out,  when  they  fuf- 
 fered  adiffolution  of  their  houfe  of  earth  i  Or  (hall 
 we  imagine  that  this  generous  paffion  is  the  off-fpring 
 of  our  body,  and  owes  its  being,  birth  and  ftrengthto 
 this  corporeal  nature  ?  We  may  not  fo  defame  and 
 afperfe  the  Love  of  our  Lord  5  who  no  doubt  hath  a 
 more  tender  heart  in  the  Heavens,  than  he  had  upon 
 the  EarvJa.  We  may  expecl:  to  find  there  more  Love 
 in  the  breads  of  thefe  holy  Lovers  who  followed  him, 
 than  here  they  were  owners  of  ;  though  they  had 
 then  fo  much,  that  it  was  large  enough  to  embrace  the 
 whole  world.  They  have  not  left  their  nature,  but 
 only  its  imperfections.    They  have  not  changed  t'hdc 
 
 affections. 
 
24 '  The  Taralle  of  the  filgrhn. 
 
 afftcYions,  but  only  heighmed  and  improved  them." 
 And  therefore  judge  how  happy  you  will  be  in  the 
 acquaintance  of  fuch  perfons,  and  how  much  more 
 happy  in  their  excellent  friendship.  Your  Love  will 
 be  raifed  to  a  ftrange  pitch,  \\  hen  you  approach  fuch 
 intenfeandvafilyincrcafed  flames.  Your  heart  will 
 be  all  on  Fire  when  you  come  near  to  fuch  huge  fur- 
 naces.: the-heat  of  whole  Love  in  this  cold  region  was 
 fo  ftrong,  that  it  would  have  forced  a  fenfible  foul  to  ex- 
 pire with  them.  And  is  the  joy,  think  you,  conceive- 
 able  which  you  will  feel,  when  you  find  your  felf  in 
 the  arms  of.  thofe  mighty  Lovers  i  For  my  part  I  can 
 imagine  nothing  but  an  Ecftaiie ,  when-  we  (hall  be 
 placed  in  fuch  great  Hearts  $  which  are  nothing  elfe 
 but  Love  and  Joy  to  fee  us  at  Jerufalem.  I  cannot  pro- 
 pound to  my  delires  a  pleafure  more  charming  than 
 this,  unlefs  it  be  to  joyn  both  heart  and  voice  with  the 
 whole  number  of  thofe  glorious  friends,  to  chaunt  the 
 praifes  of  our  creator  and  redeemer.  And  indeed  Lc 
 is  beyond  the  meafure  of  my  poor  skill  to  invent  any 
 words  that  can  tolerably  defcribe  the  Melodies  which 
 will  then  be  made,  when  the  glorious  company  of  the 
 Apojiles,  the  goodly  fellowfhip  of  the  Prophets,  the 
 noble  Army  of  the  Martyr s>  the  glittering.  Troops  of 
 ConfelTors,  and  the  innumerable  Hofts  of  triumphant 
 Souls,  ftiall  compofe  but  one  Quire  tofing  their  An- 
 thems and  Hallelujahs  to  the  God  of  Love.  But  yet  I 
 am  apt  to  think  that  their  Mufick  will  receive  no  fmall 
 part  of  its  graces  from  hence,  that  there  widl  be  no 
 difcord  in  their  hearts,  nor  jarring  in  their  affections, 
 but  that  Love  will  exactly  tune  them  to  a  perfect  har- 
 mony. Nay,thisfeemstobethefummof  whatwecan 
 fay  of  the  happinefs  of  that  eftare,  that  it  confifts  in  a 
 rapturous  Love  ofGod>  and,  a  wft  pajfiowite  Love  of  one 
 
 another. 
 
17;r ?  arable  of  the  Pilgrim, 
 another.  And  truly  chis  is  a  thing  fo  invuing,  andJ 
 have  fuch  a  particular  affection  to  this  Unity  of  Svim 
 among  Brethren,  that  I  mould  be  tempted  heretofpeak 
 a  little  of  that  charity  which  you  ought  to  have  to  your 
 neighbourfas  I  have  already  inftructed  you  about  chat 
 you  owe  to  God)  but  that  I  have  afligncd  another  time 
 and  place  for  that  difcourfc. 
 
 CHAP.    XIV. 
 
 The  manner  of  their  Life  who  live  at  Jerufalem  :  and 
 that  all  things  cencttrr  to  make  it  the  moft  pleafant  of 
 all  other. 
 
 YOU  have  great  incouragement  then  to  make 
 hafte  to  Jerufalem,  for  you  fee  they  pafs  their 
 time  there  more  delightfully  thanin  any  other  place  5 
 and  lead  a  lifefo  much  to  their  content,  that  one  may 
 truly  fay  their  imploymentisto  pleafe  themfelves,  and 
 to  do  according  to  their  defires.  The  moft  vigorous 
 Soul  that  this  earth  affords,  isbutadrone  in  compare 
 with  the  fprightful  air  of  them  that  inhabit  thofe  Coe- 
 leftial  Regions.  You  would  fay  the  moft  plealanc 
 days  that  here  we  lead  and  ftudy  to  prolong  to  an 
 hundred  years,  are  but  like  a  deep  and  a  dream,  a  mecr 
 image  and  fhadow  of  life  ;  if  you  could  but  be  railed 
 for  one  minute  to  the  (hengr.h  and  activity  of  thorc 
 happy  people,  and  receive  but  the  fleighteft  talk  of 
 thofe  lively  and  cflential  delights  which  force  the 
 whole  foul  to  attend  unto  them.  The  brisknefs  and 
 chearfu'lnefs  of  your  youthful  time,  doth,  not  lb  much 
 exctll  the  flat  and  in  lipid  pleafures  of  vour  decrepit 
 Age,   as  they  themfelves  are  furpalfed  by  the  quick- 
 
 nefs 
 
 95 
 
9  5  The  f  arable  of  t he  Pilgrim. 
 
 tiefsand  height  of  thofe  joys  wherein  the  Citizens  of 
 JentfaUm  are  eternally  immerfed.  Ic  is  impoflible  for 
 me  to  declare  the  fmalleft  part  of  thefweet  delectations 
 which  they  refent ;  but  to  gratifTe  thofe  longings  which 
 I  difcern  I  have  already  excited  in  you,  I  mall  run  the 
 adventure  of  defcribing  a  few  of  thofe  pleafures  that 
 gufli  out  of  that  full  and  ever-fpringing  fountain  of 
 Good  with  whom  they  live  and  maintain  an  happy  con- 
 verfe.  And  becaufe  I  believe  you  are  defirous  to  know, 
 how  they  receive  and  take  in  thofe  voluptuous  enjoy- 
 ments, 1  will  endeavour  with  one  labour  to  fatisfie  you 
 in  both. 
 
 You  may  conceive  then  if  you  plcafe,  that  fuch  a 
 fpirit  as  your  own  being  advanced  and  fortified  much 
 beyond  the  feeble  narrownefs  of  this  prefent  Hate , 
 doth  continually  imploy  the  higheit  and  moft  Sove- 
 raign  powers,  that  it  hath,  upon  the  higheft  and  moft 
 fupream  Good.  That  it  is  daily  admiring  his  excellent 
 nature,  loving  and  embracing  his  amiable  perfections, 
 blefling  and  praifing  his  bounteous  difpofitions,  ftudy- 
 ing  to  conform  it  felf  to  all  Ins  defires,  rejoycing  in  the 
 full  fatisfaction  which  he  communicates  to  its  heart, 
 and  in  one  word  doing  all  thofe  actions  which  a  foul  is 
 capable  to  perform  upon  any  other  object  in  this 
 world :  and  then  you  will  have  a  little  idea,  of  that 
 infinite  delectation  which  fuch  a  conjunction  of  the 
 very  top  and  flower  of  the  mind  with  the  beginning  and 
 original  of  all  good  muft  needs  produce.  Look  how 
 you  are  moved  in  the  enjoyment  of  any  '  al  good, 
 and  that  will  tell  you  what  they  do  who  live  at  Jerw  • 
 fa/em,  and  wherein  the  pleafure  of  their  life  doth  con- 
 iift.  You  fee  it,  or  fome  way  or  other  perceive  it*  you 
 apprehend  and  lay  hold  of  it ;  ycu  feel  it ;  you  cleave 
 
 unto 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim,  q7 
 
 unto  it ;    you  are  pleafed  and  delighted  in  it :  and  juft 
 fo  will  you  and  all  they  live  and  be  happy  in  God  who 
 arrive  at  that  blefTed  place.     Their  hfe  and  felicity 
 confiftsin  a  clear  and  diftincl  perception  of  him;    in 
 a  clofe  union  and  conjunction  of  heart  and  will  with 
 him;    in  a  feeling  of  the  pleafures  that  are  in  him ;  in 
 an  ardent  embracement  of  him,    that  they  may  more 
 feel  him  ;   and  in  an  high  delight  and  ravifhmenc  of 
 fpirit  in  fuch  enjoyment  of  him.     Thither  if  we  can  but 
 get,  we  (hall  love  as  much  as  we  are  able,  and  be  able 
 to  love  far  more  than  we  can  now  think.    The  great- 
 nefs  of  the  objeft  will  intend  the  affection.     The  vaft- 
 nefsof  the  Good  will  force  the  will  to  defire  and  love 
 more  than  elfe  it  would.    We  ihall  enjoy  according  to 
 the  widenefs  of  our  Capacity ;    and  all  our  Capacities 
 will  be  fo  enlarged,  that  they  will  exceed  the  extent  of 
 our prefent  thoughts,  as  much  as  our  prefent  thoughts 
 exceed  our  prefent  enjoyments.     It  is  a  life  wherein 
 we  (hall  do  nothing  but  what  we  defire ;  and  wherein 
 all  things  fliall  be  juft  as  we  will  our  (elves  >  and  where- 
 in we  (hill  will  nothing  but  that  which  is  moft  to  be 
 chofen.   A  life,  every  a&  of  which  muft  needs  be  fweet, 
 and  full  of  joy,  beyond  all  the  meafnres  of  all  our  pre- 
 fent wiflies.     When  we  think,  we  (hall  rejoyce ;  when 
 we  love,  we  (hall  rejoyce ;    when  we  adore  or  praife, 
 we  (hall  rejoyce.    W  hatfeever  we  do,  it  will  have  in- 
 finite delight  and  pleafure  in  it :  and  when  we  have 
 done  it  never  fo  oft,  it  will  be  eternally  to  be  done 
 again ;   and  we  (hall  Hkewife  have  more  power  to  do 
 it  3   and  every  repetition  of  fuch  ads  will  be  with  a 
 f  elh  addition  of  contentment  in  the  doing  of  them. 
 There  is  no  fatiety  nor  loathing  in  the  enjoyment  of 
 that  good  5    no  fainting  nor  growing  weary ;  but  we 
 (hall  always  think  we  have  enough,   and  yet  ftill  be 
 O  enjoy- 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Vilgrtrh. 
 ending  more,  we  fhall  be  in  a  perpetual  youth  and 
 vigour,  and  yet  daily  growing  more  ftrong  and  able  to 
 converfe  with  God.  For  that  great  Good  cannot  be 
 known  at  once,  nor  can  [all  the  fweetnefs  of  that  life 
 be  inftantly  tafted,  nor  the  Rivers  of  thole  pleafures  be 
 drunk  up  at  one  draught  :  but  frefh  delights  will  con- 
 tinually entertain  us ;  new  pleafures  will  be  fpringing 
 forth  unto  us,  and  a  flood  of  joy  that  we  never  knew 
 before  will  overflow  us,  out  of  that  full  fountain  who 
 now  ifiues  forth  in  fomany  ftreams,  and  diffufes  him- 
 felf  in  fuch  great  varieties  in  this  World  5  that  our 
 minds  may  be  every  moment  imployed  in  fome  rarity 
 ofmture,  which,  till  then,  did  never  affect  their  eyes. 
 A  happy  life  furethis  will  be,  when  we  (hill  have  be- 
 fore us  luch  an  inexhaufted  Ocean  of  Good  to  fill  us, 
 and  fuch  great  appetites  to  be  filled,  and  fuch  repeated 
 fatisfa&ion  in  the  filling  of  them,  and  fuch  an  increafe 
 of  (trength  by  their  fatisfa&ion  ;  and  wider  capacities 
 alfo  created  by  the  continual  flowing  in  of  that  good 
 upon  us,  which  will  diftend  and  ftretch  our  fouls  by  its 
 enjoyment,  to  make  us  more  able  to  enjoy  it. 
 
 And  now  need  I  be  at  any  pains  to  perfwade  you 
 that  this  City  is  a  place  which  abounds  fo  much  with  a 
 plenty  of  all  good  things,  that  there  can  be  no  want  at 
 all ;  but  a  perfect  fulnefs  of  whatfoever  may  be  an 
 happinefs  to  us  i  It  is  apparent  already,  that  whatfo- 
 ever we  can  defire,  there  it  is  prefent,  and  whatfoever 
 is  prefent  is  Good,  and  whatfoever  good  there  is,  it  is 
 all  Good,  pure  good,  without  any  evil ;  and  that  pure 
 Good  is  all  in  one  Good,  GOD  himfelf,  who  can  be  no- 
 thing elfe  but  Good.  How  much  do  the  Good  things 
 of  this  World  delight  us,  which  yet  are  not  Good  by 
 themfelves,  nor  contain  in  them  all  that  Good  is,  nor 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Tdgrlm.  90 
 
 arc  only  Good  neither,  but  come  wuh  a  great  mixture 
 of  trouble  to  us  i  Will  not  the  enjoyment  then  of  him 
 give  us  infinitely  more  pleafure,  and  make  us  perfectly 
 happy,  who  is  good  by  himfclf,  and  not  by  derivation 
 from  any  other,  and  lb  is  perfectly  Good,  and  nothing 
 elfe  but  Good  without  any  thing  at  all  to  abate  his 
 fucctnefs.  Thefe  things  here  below  (faith  an  ancient 
 Guide  to  Jerusalem  whom  I  have  met  withal)  are  t"iug' 
 fomething  Good,  elfe  how  mould  they  at  all  delighc 
 us  ?  but  they  cculd  not  be  good  at  all,  if  it  were  not 
 for  him  that  is  All  Gocd,  and  only  Good,  who  hath 
 made  them  to  be  what  Good  they  are.  For  all  Good 
 was  created  by  him,  and  he  is  that  Good  which  was 
 created  by  none.  He  is  Good  by  his  own  Good,  and 
 not  by  any  participated  Goodnefs;  He  is  Good  from 
 fiis  Good  felf,  and  not  by  adhering  to  any  other  Good. 
 As  much  therefore  as  he  excells  all  other  Good,  fo 
 much  muft  our  enjoyment  of  him  excell  all  other  en-  ' 
 joy menc.  A  s  he  is  a  Good  that  is  from  none  but  him- 
 ielf,  fo  our  happinefs  will  be  a  Good  that  depends  on 
 none  but  his  happinefs.  When  we-arewith  him  we 
 (hall  but  ask,  and  we  mall  fee;  we  /hall  but  fee,  and  we 
 (hall  love ;  we  (ball  but  love,  and  we  (hall  eternally  re- 
 joyce:  or  rather  we  need  not  ask  at  all,  for  he  will 
 but  prefent  himfelf  before  us,  and  force  us  to  love  and 
 rejoyce  without  any  meafure. 
 
 And  feeing  it  is  a  place  of  fuchfull  fatisfa<5Uon,  you 
 will  not  queftion  its  tranquillity  and  repofe,  efpeci- 
 ally  fineeitis  (as  you  heard  before  you  came  hither) 
 the^ery  Vifion  of  Peace.  The  life  which  they  lead 
 there  is  fo  full  of  content,  that  they  are  not  difturbed 
 by  any  paflion,  nor  difquietcd  by  the  violence  and 
 diforderof  any  unruly  affection.  A  life  it  is,  void  of 
 O  2  all 
 
The  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 all  fadnefs,  free  from  all  grief,  quit  of  all  care,  and  rid 
 of  all  anxiety  of  mind.     Where  there  is  no  Adverfary 
 toaffault,  no  forbidden  fruit  to  tempt,  no  impetuous 
 defire  of  the  flefh  to  moleft  them,  and  no  fear  neither 
 that  ever  they  (hall  be  haunted  with  thefe  enemies  of 
 their  Peace  and  contentment.     O  how  happy  mould 
 we  find  our  felves,  if  we  were  but  come  to  the  top  of 
 that  high  Mountain,  which  will  feem  the  more  clear  . 
 and  quiet,  becaufe  fo  many  clouds  have  here  fo  often 
 overcaft  us  ,   and  fo  many  fudden  blafts  have  ruffled 
 and  difcompofed  us !    There  we  ihall  not  accufe  one 
 another  of  any  injuries,   becaufe  we  fhall  not  do  the 
 leaft  •,  nor  be  troubled  to  purfue  our  right,    becaufe 
 we  mail  not  be  wronged.     There  we  fhall  live  with- 
 out jealoufies,  and  converfe  (as  I  have  told  youj  with- 
 out fufpicion  ;   and  pafs  Eternity  without  any  diffe* 
 rence  of  Opinion,  or  debates  and  controverfies  in  Re- 
 ligion, which  now  are  no  fmall  difeafe,  and  bring  no 
 little  burden  upon  our  hearts.     Nay,  the  very  actions 
 of  Piety,  many  of  them,  will  be  of  a  different  kind  from 
 what  they  now  are,   unattended  with  thofe  paffions 
 to  which  we  are  now  moved,  which  make  us  fuffer 
 evil,  while  we  do  good.    Here,  as  the  forenamed  per- 
 fonwellobfervedtome,  we  do  good  works,   when  we 
 deal  our  bread  to  the  hungry ,   and  receive  the  di- 
 fhefled  ftranger,  and  cloath  the  naked,  which  is  a  kind 
 of  affli&ion  and  tribulation  which  we  indure  by  our 
 fympathy  with  them,  to  whom  we  pay  our  Charity. 
 For  we  find  miferable  perfons  on  whom  to  exercife 
 our  Mercy,  and  the  mifery  which  we  fee  they  lie  un- 
 der, makes  us  companionate,  that  is,   to  fuffer  with 
 them.    How  much  better  then  fhall  we  be,  when  we 
 fhall  find  no  hungry  mouth  to  feed,  no  ftranger  to  en- 
 .certain,  no  naked  body  to  caft  our  garments'  over,  no 
 
 fick 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrbn.  1  pi 
 
 fick  men  to  attend,  no  prifoner  to  vifit,  no  tormented 
 perfon  to  commiferate,  no  differences  to  compofe,  no 
 contenders  to  reconcile:  but  our  Love  fhall  be  of  ano- 
 ther fort,  all  joy,  all  pleafure  in  the  good  and  in  the 
 perfect  happincfs  of  every  one  that  we  behold  i  And 
 if  there  were  nothing  elfe  there  to  entertain  us,  but  the 
 comforts  of  that  friendfhip  I  told  you  of,  and  the  de- 
 lights we  mallenterchangebyaconftant  amity  and  good 
 will  to  one  another  5  it  were  fufflcient  to  recommend 
 this  life  to  any  wife  mans  affections,  and  make  him 
 willing  to  forfake  this  World,  to  go  to  a  place  of  fuch 
 endiefs  Love  and  Kindnefs. 
 
 And  doth  there  now  need  any  demonftration  that 
 this  is  a  place  of  great  fafety  and  fecurity,  environed  on 
 all  fides  with  the  power  of  God  againft  the  attempts 
 of  all  the  Enemies  of  our  happinels  i  No  fure,  for  then 
 we  mould  be  in  fome  danger  of  fome  difturbance.  If  we 
 mould  conceive  indeed  any  forces  could  be  gathered 
 againft  it,  and  that  it  were  not  impregnable  in  ic  felf, 
 we  mighteafily  imagine  that  fo  many  Troops  of  Illuftri- 
 ous  friends,  fo  many  bands  of  holy  Lovers  as  here  in- 
 habit, would  perform  ftrange  things  againft  the  moft 
 puiffant  Invaders.  There  is  nothing  I  told  you,,  fa 
 ftrong  as  Love,  by  the  force  of  which  in  one  fingle  per.- 
 ion,  incredible  things  have  been  atchieved:  and 
 therefore  much  greater  would  the  united  power  of  it 
 appear  in  fo  many  hofts  of  noble  fpirits  all-infpired 
 with  the  higheft  degree  of  this  affect iofy  who  would 
 do  their  utmoft  for  the  fervice  and  fafety  of  one  ano« 
 ther.  But  yet  we  need  not  have  recourfe  to  fuch  fan- 
 fies  as  thefe,  for  the  aflurance  of  our  peace  in  that  blcf- 
 fed  place.  It  is  impoflible  that  any  thing  fliould  wound 
 the  quiet  of  fuch  happy  fouls,  or  make  the  leaft  breach 
 
lot  The  Titrable  of the  Pilgrim. 
 
 in  any  of  their  enjoyments.  There  cannot  be  fa  much 
 interruption  given  to  them,  as  the  (cratch,  of  a  pin 
 among  us  amounts  unto,  becaufe  they  are  out  of  the 
 reach  of  the  evil  one,  and  placed  in  fuch  (till  r»nd  calm 
 Regions,  where  nothing  breaths,  but  only  that  love  and 
 dear  affection  for  ever. 
 
 Upon  which  account  alfo  it  is,  that  there  can  be  no 
 intermiflfion  of  their  enjoyments,  no  more  than  there 
 will  be  interruption  and  disturbance.  It  being  a  full 
 and  perfeclhappinefs,  there  will  notimepafs  wherein 
 they  will  not  be  happy.  The  days  there  have  no 
 nights :  The  life  hath  no  deep,  which  is  but  the  Image 
 of  death.  There  will  not  be  lb  much  diverfion  there 
 from  the  proper  exercifes  of  that  life,  as  meat  and 
 drink  now  creates,  which  are  the  prefent  fupport  of 
 our  infirm  bodies :  Much  lefs  will  there  be  any  difeafe 
 or  decay  of  ftrength,  or  the  incumbrance  of  any  of 
 thofe  imployments  which  engage  fo  great  a  part  of  our 
 time  and  thoughts.  Our  Love  therefore  mail  never 
 languiuY,  or  ftand  in  need  of  any  refrefhment  5  our 
 charity  (hall  not  cool  and  abate  its  heat  ;  our  joy  mail 
 not  exhauft  our  fpirits,  and  leave  us  dull  by  the  excefs 
 of  it,  as  here  it  fometimes  doth.  But  as  I  faid  before, 
 we  (hall  rather  gather  ftrength,  and  grow  more  apt  to 
 receive  an  increafe  of  joy,  by  the  greatnefs  and  force 
 of  that  which  we  have  already  received. 
 
 I  need  but  juft  remember  you,  it  being  a  thing  you 
 have  heard  no  doubt  an  hundred  times,  that  this  life 
 of  theirs  is  without  any  death :  An  eternal  life  ( as  the 
 Holy  Books  call  it )  where  we  fliall  not  have  fo  much 
 fadnefs  as  the  thoughts  of  its  having  an  end  would  be- 
 get.   But  we  (hall  rejoyce  firft,  that  we  have  fo  much, 
 
 and 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  }  0 , 
 
 and  next  of  all,  that  we  ihall  never  have  lefs,  and  then 
 that  we  fha>!l  enjoy  more;  and  above  all,  that  whac 
 we  do  enjoy  (lull  live  as  long  a>  God  who  is  the  caufe  of 
 it,  that  is,  forever. 
 
 I  believe  you  are  not  weary  of  fo  delightful  a  dif- 
 courfe,  yet,  left  I  mould  keep  you  too  long  from  the 
 reft  of  my  InftrucYions,  I  (hall  ftiortcn  it  as  much  as  I 
 can,  and  fhut  up  this  Defci  ipticn  with  a  Meditation  of 
 that  devout  pcrlbn,  who  as  I  told  you  long  ago,  un- 
 dercook the  Guidance  of  men  to  Jerufalem.  "  How 
 lc  different,  faith  he,  is  the  life  of  thofe  in  that  place, 
 "from  that  of  ours  here.?  Here  there  is  falfhood; 
 "there  is  truth.  Here  is  perturbation;  there  is  a 
 '•faithful  poffetfion.  Here  is  bitternefs  and  hatred  ; 
 "  there  is  a  dUe&ion  and  eternal  love.  Here  is  dange- 
 e<  rous  elation  of  mind  ;  there  is  fecure  exultation  of 
 "  fpint.  Here  we  are  in  doubt,  whether  they  that 
 ic  love  us  may  not  change  their  thoughts  •  there  is  per- 
 "  petual  friendfnip  ,  and  no  poflibility  of  being  cne- 
 <{  mies.  Here  whatfoever  is  good,  we  are  afraid  may 
 a  perilh  5  there  whatfoever  we  receive  will  be  prcfer- 
 "  ved  by  him  that  gave  it.  Here  there  is  death  ;  and 
 tC  there  is  nothing  but  life.  Here  we  enjoy  what  the 
 rc  eye,  and  the  ear,  and  our  thoughts  prefent  unto  us, 
 "  but  there  we  fliall  fee  what  the  eye  hath  not  feen, 
 *cand  hear  what  the  ear  hath  never  heard,  and  under- 
 "  ftand  what  the  heart  cannot  now  comprehend :  And 
 (<  feeing,  hearing  and  knowing  after  that  manner,  we 
 "  fhallrejoyce  with  joy  unfpeakable.  For  what  kind 
 "  of  joy  muft  that  be,  when  thou  feeft  thy  felf  in  the 
 a  company  of  Angels ,  a  Partner  in  the  Kingdom  of 
 "  Heaven,  to  raign  with  the  Kings  of  the  World  ;  de- 
 c;  firing  nothing,,  topoflefs  all  things ;    rich,  without 
 
 c:  cove-- 
 
t04  The  Taralle  of  the  filgrim. 
 
 *<  covetoufnefs ;  charitable,  without  money ;  triumph- 
 w  ing  without  the  fear  of  any  barbarous  invaders  •  and 
 (t  living  this  life,  without  any  death  i  O  fweet  life ! 
 t:  the  more  I  think  of  thee,  the  more  I  love  thee ;  the 
 il  more  vehemently  I  defire  thee,  the  more  I  am  plea- 
 tl  fed  in  the  remembrance  of  thee ;  I  love  to  fpeak  of 
 "thee.  Hove  to  hear  of  thee,  I  love  to  write  of  thee,  to 
 Ci  confer  of  thee,  to  read  of  thee ;  that  fo  I  may  re- 
 "  frem  the  pains,  and  the  fweat,  and  the  dangers  of 
 ii  this  tedious  life,  by  laying  my  weary  head  in  the  bo- 
 "  fome  of  thy  fecure  pleafures.  For  this  end  I  enter 
 "  into  the  Garden  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  ;  I  gather 
 u  there  the  fweet  Flowers  of  Divine  Savings  5  that 
 "•  which  I  gather  I  eat ;  that  which  I  eat,  I  chew  over 
 "  again  ;  and  that  which  I  have  tailed,  1  lay  up  in  mine 
 ?  heart  that  by  fuch  fweetnefs  I  may  allay  the  bitter-] 
 fc  nefs  and  irkfomnefs  of  this  miferable  life.  O  that 
 u  my  fins  were  done  away  !  O  that  laying  afide  the 
 "burden  of  this  flefti,  I  might  enter  into  thy  eafe  and 
 "<juiet !  To  receive  the  Crown  of  Life  5  to  be  affocia- 
 "  ted  to  the  Coeleftial  Singers ;  to  behold  the  face  of 
 '*  Chrift ;  to  fee  the  uncircumfcribed  light,  and  with- 
 "  out  fear  of  death  to  rejoyce  without  any  end.  There 
 rc  is  the  goodly  fellowfhip  of  the  Prophets  $  there  are 
 "  the  glorious  twelve  Apoftles ;  there  is  an  innume- 
 <£  rable  Army  of  Martyrs  $  there  is  the  holy  Company 
 "  of  Pious  Confeflbrs  5  there  are  the  Divine  Lovers  of 
 "  Solitude  and  Retirement  5  there  are  the  holy  Wo- 
 u  men  that  have  overcome  the  infirmities  of  their  fex, 
 <c  and  the  powers  of  the  World  >  thee  are  the  brave 
 *c  Youths  and  Virgins,  whofe  holy  manners  tranfeended 
 "their  years 5  there  are  the  Sheep  and  the  Lambs 
 "that  have efcaped  the  danger  of  glutting  themfelves 
 J  with  thefe  earthly  pleafures ;  there  perfect  Charity 
 
 JJ  reigns 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Vdgrim.  l  o  J 
 
 <c  reigns,  bccaufe  God  is  there  AH  in  All.  There  they 
 4<  fee  without  fear,  and  love  without  meafure,  and 
 "  praife  without  ceafing.  There  loving  they  praife, 
 "and  praifingthey  love,  and  it  is  their  work  to  do  fo 
 tl  always  without  any  interruption.  But  alas !  Who 
 "  can  tell  what  a  Great  Good  God.  is  i  (as  he  proceeds 
 Ci  in  another  place  )  Who  can  declare  how  full  he  is  i 
 "  or  relate  the  happinefs  that  he  will  give  us  i  We  can- 
 "  not  tell  it,  and  yet  we  cannot  hold  our  peace :  It  is 
 Ct  more  than  can  be  uttered,  and  yet  we  cannot  chufe 
 a  but  talk  of  it.  And  if  we  cannot  tell  it  becaufe  of 
 c'  our  ignorance,  and  yet  cannot  hold  our  tongues  be- 
 Ci  caufe  of  our  joy  for  what  we  know,  in  what  condi- 
 "  tion  are  we,  which  will  neither  let  us  fpeak,  nor  yet 
 <c  be  filent  ?  What  {hall  we  do  with  our  felves,  if  we 
 "  can  neither  tell  what  it  is,  nor  yet  ceafe  to  fpeak  of 
 <c  it  ?  I'll  tell  you  in  two  or  three  words ;  Let  us  re- 
 <c  Joyce :  Let  us  praife  God  :  Let  us  keep  a  perpetual 
 "  Jubilee  here  in  our  hearts :  thanking  him  very  much 
 "  that  we  know  fo  much  of  his  happinefs ;  and  thank- 
 <c  ing  him  more,  that  it  is  fo  great  that  we  cannot  know 
 « it  all. 
 
 Here,  if  the  Guide  had  not  made  a  little  flop,  I 
 think  the  Pilgrim  had  interrupted  him;  for  he  had 
 kept  his  filence  thus  long  with  great  difficulty,  and 
 now  cryed  out  with  a  more  than  ordinary  vehemence, 
 BlefTedbeGod  that  he  hath  brought  me  to  this  place! 
 This  is  none  other  than  the  fuburbsof  Jerufalem  ;  this 
 is  the  Gate  of  Heaven.  Happy  was  the  day  which  let 
 me  fee  your  face  !  I  heard  fomething  of  Jerufalem  be- 
 fore by  the  hearing  of  the  ear;  but  now  mine  eyes  fee 
 it,  and  I  am  all  inamoured  of  it.  You  have  mown  me 
 a  fight  fo  glorious,  that  it  is  beyond  our  thoughts,  and 
 P  beyond 
 
I  o  6  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 •beyond  our  defires,    I  was  going  to  fay,  beyond  our 
 Faith,  and  beyond  our  Hope.    Sure  you  are  one  of 
 the  Angels  of  God  Cent  from  Jerufaiem  to  fetch  me 
 thither.     You  had  inflamed  me  with  an  high  degree  of 
 Love  before,  but  now  you  have  pur  me  in  a  fiery  Cha- 
 riot, and  methinks  I  am  not  upon  the  earth,  but  afcend- 
 ing  up  to  thore  heaven'y  Regions.     Nay,   you  have 
 transported  me  to  the  City  of  God  already.   Methinks 
 I  fee  the  Lord  of  Glory.     I  behold  the  Thrones  that 
 areerectedforallthe  Noble  Travellers  to  that  Holy 
 Land.     I  fancy  my  felf  in.  the  dear  embraces  of  thofe 
 Glorious  Lovers.     And  I  am  apt  to  embrace  you  as 
 one  of  the  Seraphims  that  have  fired  my  foul  with  the 
 fame  Love.     I  fee  the  blefled  Jefus  preparing  himfelf 
 for  his  appearance  >    and  begin  to  think  that  I  am 
 triumphing  with  him.     Or,  if  I  am  but  in  a  dream  of 
 thefe  things,  yet  it  is  fo  pleafant,  that  I  could  wiflv  it 
 might  laft  for  ever ;    and  that  nothing  might  awake 
 me  out  of  fuch  a  delightful  (lumber.     Not  To,  faid  his 
 Guide  (interrupting  hisfpeech)  Hove  you  better  than 
 to  let  you  enj  ly  fuch  a  wiili ;  and  I  would  rouze  you  up 
 to  demonstrate  their  reality,  if  I  thought  you  took  thefe 
 things  for  charming  dreams,  and  painted  (hadows.  You 
 (hall  not  make  fuch  a  mean  fupppfal,  nor  content  your 
 felf  with  fuch  airy  pleafures^   for  I  will  make  you 
 know  at  once  both  that  there. is  fuch  a  bleffcd  place  as 
 I  have  defcribed  •,   and  difcover  to  you  more  perfectly 
 the  way  unto  it.    There  is  another  dearname  indofed 
 in  thofe  words  which  I  told- you  muft  always  befealed 
 upon  your  he arr,  and  that  is  the  Holy  J  E  S  U  S.    On 
 whom  I  do  not  intend  that  you  mould  look  only  as  he 
 fits  on  his  Throne  of  Glory  at  Jerufalem^  but  as  he 
 walked  up  and  down  the  world,  and  was  a. Pilgrim 
 like  your  felf  travelling  to  that  place.     He  publUhcd 
 
 (he 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Tilgrim.  '     1 0/ 
 
 the  gloryof  it;He  broughc  life  and  immorrality  to  J»ghr5 
 He  let  open  the  Gates  oijerufalem  to  all  faithful  Tra- 
 vellers 5    He  run  the  Race  himfelf  wherein  you  are  to 
 follow ,  and  for  the  joy  chat  was  fee  before  him  when  he 
 fhould  come  thither,    he  was  not  aihamed  of  a  poorer 
 habit  than  the  meancft  Pilgrim  wears.     If  you  take  a 
 view  therefore  of  his  life,  and  trace  his  holy  fteps ;  you 
 cannot  mifs  the  Road  which  I  would  have  you  take, 
 nor  fail  to  be  convinced  that  it  can  carry  you  to  no  other 
 place  but  the  City  of  God.     For,   Do  you  not  remem- 
 ber that  this  perfon  hath  ftiled  himfelf  THE  WAY> 
 There  is  nothing  fo  ncceflary  then  in  all  that  fentence, 
 as  this  one  word  Jeftts  to  have  always  in  your  mind  : 
 whom  I  mall  now  defcribe  unto  you  as  a  fair  Copy,  noc 
 only  Qfah&iHumility  and  Charity  which  I  named  before; 
 but  of  all  other  things  that  you  muft  refolvcto  undertake 
 if  you  mean  to  come  at  Jerusalem. 
 
 CHAP.   XV. 
 
 A  Description  of  Jefus,  who  is  the  true  Way  to  Jerufa- 
 lem.  In  which  he  is  propounded  to  the  Pilgrims  imi- 
 tation. 
 
 I. 
 
 AND  fit  ft  I  muft  fet  this  JESUS  before  your  eyes 
 as  one  that  was  dead  to  thefe  out  ward  things  while 
 he  lived  among  them  5  and  that  withdrew  his  heart  from 
 the  world  while  he  converged  with  it.  He  was  not  a  per- 
 fon doyfter'd  and  retir'd  from  the  fociety  of  men.  He 
 led  not  an  Anchorets  life,  which  obliged  him  to  ihun 
 their  company.  Nor  did  be  put  on  a  fullen  gravity 
 that  fliould  affright  men  from  his  fellowship  ;  but  he 
 P  2  uled 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  ftlgrim. 
 ufed  the  greateft  freedom,  and  treated  men  with  fuch 
 familiarity,  that  he  invited  them  into  it.  He  did  eat  and 
 drink  as  other  men  do  5  he  refufed  not  their  invitation 
 when  they  were  defirous  to  entertain  him,  and  even  ac 
 a  Marriage  he  denyed  not  to  be  a  Gueft  when  his  pre- 
 fence  was  welcome  to  them.  He  had  opportunities 
 of  inriching  himfelf  as  well  as  other-men.  Honours 
 would  have  waited  upon  him  if  hie  had  pleafed,  with- 
 out a  Miracle.  It  depended  upon  himfelf  alone  to 
 become  the  greateft  man  in  the  world.  And  the  plea- 
 fures  which  others  feek  would  have  purfued  him,  if 
 he  had  but  given  them  encouragement.  Herein  he  made 
 himfelf  glorious,  and  hath  left  us  a  noble  example  5 
 that  he  was  mortified  to  all  thefe  carnal  delights, 
 when  they  were  ready  to  thruft  themfelves  upon  him } 
 that  he  denyed  the  defires  of  wealth,  when  it  would 
 coft  him  no  more  pains,  than  to  receive  it  •,  and  that 
 he  refufed  all  the  Kingdoms  of  the  world ,  which 
 would  have  eafily  difpofed  themfelves  to  his  obedience. 
 He  walkc  into  Cities  and  Towns ;  but  kept  himfelf 
 ftill  as  unfpotted  from  the  world,  as  he  were  in  a  wil- 
 dernefs.  He  lived  in  the  thickeft  of  its  temptati- 
 ons j  but  none  of  them  could  fatten  or  ftick  upon  him. 
 He  had  power  at  will,  and  his  will  fet  bounds  to  it 
 when  it  had  none  of  its  own.  He  was  a  Soveraign 
 Lord ;  but  made  no  advantage  thereby,  fave  only  to  be 
 better,  and  to  do  more  good  than  any  of  his  fubjecls. 
 He  ufed  greater  moderation  in  all  enjoyments,  than 
 thofe  did  on  whom  he  bellowed  them.  He  lived  in  a 
 fenfe  of  the  Spiritual  World,  while  he  was  a  man  of 
 this,  and  incompafled  about  with  our  infirmities.  He 
 was  a  ftranger  to  all  the  evil  manners  and  cuftoms  of 
 men  while  he  was  familiar  with  themfelves  5  and  he 
 teftifled  againft  their  wicked  deeds  while  he  kept 
 
 them 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Tdgrim.  ,  0? 
 
 them  company :  Nay,  he  purified  many  by  his  ex- 
 lucple,  remaiaing  uncorrupted  by  any  of  theirs.  And 
 truly  fuch  a  life  it  is  that  you  are  to  lead.  Your  way 
 to  Jemfalem  lyes  through  the  World.  You  muft  not 
 think  to  (rep  into  none  but  Religious  houfes ,  or  to 
 fall  into  no  company,  but  that  of  the  Pious :  much 
 lefs  muft  you  expect  to  lye  immur'd  from  the  fpecta- 
 clesof  Vanity  ;  and  to  fecure  your  felf  from  tempta- 
 tions within  the  inclofure  of  high  walls,  which  they 
 cannot  climb  over  to  approach  you.  But  your  man- 
 ner of  life  will  lead  you  through  the  crowd  :  your 
 way  will  bring  you  into  open  fields.,  and  expofe  you 
 oftentimes  to  'the  throng  of  ienfual  objects ;  againft 
 which  you  will  have  no  defence  but  your  own  va'our- 
 ous  refolution.  You  will  not  be  able  to  refufe  theni 
 your  company,  or  to  pafs  along  without  their  ac- 
 qaaintance.  It  will  not  be  at  your  choice  whether 
 you  will  lee,  and  hear,  and  feel  thofe  things  that  are 
 amiable  and  delightful :  nor  can  you  (top  your  ears 
 fo  clofe,  but  you  will  perceive  they  invite  you  to  a 
 friendfhip  with  them.  Your  skill  and  your  courage 
 therefore  confift  in  this  •,  that  in  imitation  of  your 
 Mafter  Jeftis ,  you  live  and  converfe  with  all  thefe 
 things  as  a  man  that  is  Dead.  You  muft  keep  them 
 company  in  fuch  a  fort  that  they  may  find  it  is  but  the 
 fhadow  of  you  that  is  among  them,  and  that  they  da 
 not  polTefs  your  felf.  Let  them  know  that  they  may  as 
 well  invite  a  Ghoft  to  their  intemperance,  uncleannefs 
 and  greedinefs  of  the  world,  aswafte  their  time  in  fol- 
 liciting  of  your  affection.  Make  them  feel  that  is  but 
 half  of  you,  and  the  worfer  half  which  walks  among 
 them;  and  that  it  is  impoilible  they  mould  have  the 
 better  part.  Let  men  have  your  company,  but  be  not 
 partaker  with  them  in  their  fins.    Follow  your  affairs 
 
 Ukc 
 
no 
 
 The  Parable  of  the  filgrhn. 
 like  other  folk,  but  take  heed  and  beware  of  covetouf- 
 ncfs  •  and  watch  that  you  be  not  overtaken  with  for- 
 feiting and  drunkennefs  or  the  cares  of  this  life.  Let  the 
 World unoerftand  that  youcanfeeit  everyday,  and 
 not  fall  in  love  with  it:  that  you  can  deal  and  traflique 
 with  it  if  need  be,  and  yet  not  be  unrighteous :  that  you 
 can  behold  all  its  honoi>  s,  and  not  be  ambitious :  that 
 you  need  not  hide  your  eyes  from  its  beauties,  and  yec 
 retain  your  own,  and  live  in  purify  of  heart.  Beware 
 of  pleafing  and  humouring  any  of  your  fenfes.  Suffer 
 them  not  to  feed  too  greedily  upon  any  object,  left 
 your  foul  be  inchanted  and  caft  into  a  forgetfulnefsof 
 Jerufalem.  And  remember  always  that  you  are  to  ufe 
 all  thefe  earthly  things  rather  of  neceflity,  than  of 
 choice  :  and  to  afford  them  your  company ,but  not  your 
 friendfhip. 
 
 And  this,  let  me  tell  you,  is  a  more  excellent  and 
 ufefullife,  I  may  add,  more  laborious  too,  than  any 
 other  •  though  theaofterities  of  Monks  and  Hermites 
 feem  fo  grievous  and  horribly  affrighting.  Notwith- 
 ftanding  all  the  fharpnefs  they  enjoyn  themfelves,  they 
 reap  a  great  deal  of  eafewho  are  lequeftred  from  pub- 
 lick  offices  and  live  without  the  incumbrance  of  many 
 affairs.  Though  their  Rules  to  which  they  are  tyed 
 appear  fo  rigorous,  yet  they  are  neither  fo  many  in 
 number,  nor  fo  thorny  in  their  nature,  nor  have  fo  ma- 
 ny faces,  as  thofe  which  bind  a  man  of  exact  integrity 
 in  civil  life.  They  have  but  a  few  things  to  imploy 
 them,  and  he  is  ingaged  in  a  multitude  >  and  they  have 
 the  fame  things  to  do  over  again,  but  his  Rules  vary 
 with  a  thoufand  circumftances.  It  is  a  pleafure  to 
 avoid  the  pains  of  well  doing  among  thofe  that  are 
 evil.    It  is  a  repofe  to  have  but  few  enemies,  and  thofe 
 
 fuch 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 fuch  as  have  been  beaten  an  hundred  timts.    Thefe 
 people  may  havefome  other  glory,   but  that  of  over- 
 coming difficulties  methinks  belongs  not  to  them. 
 Moderation  is  a  vertue  much  more  toilfomc,  than  their 
 Sufferance.     That  hath  a  thonfand  feveral  faihions, 
 whereas  this  hath  no  more  than  one.     It  is  no  wonder 
 that  a  manfhouldbegood  where  he  fees  nothing  that 
 is  bad.     He  may  well  keep  his  innocence  where  it  is 
 hard  to  lofe  it :  and  foon  fecure  his  foul  when  there 
 is  nothing  offers  to  rob  him  of  it.     He  is  a  very  unfor- 
 tunate man  (  as  I  have  he.ird  fome  body  well  exprefs 
 it )  who  drownshimfelf  in  that  place,    where  he  can 
 fcarce  find  water  enough  to  quench  his  thirft.     His 
 hap  is  exceeding  hard  who  mill  take  a  furfeit,    where 
 there  is  fcarce  fo  much  victuals  as  will  break  ones  faft. 
 But  when  we  are  thiong'd  with  temptations,  and  befet 
 with  enemies ;   when  there  is  a  battery  planted  againft 
 every  Gate,   and  not  one  of  our  fenfes  is  free  from 
 afiault :  then  it  is  a  bufmefs  of  fome  labour,  and  it  de- 
 ferves  praife,    to  fecure  our  fouls,   and  to  defend  the.n 
 bravely  in  fuch  a  violent  ftorm.     To  efcape  drowning 
 when  we  are  upon  the  Sea,   when  the  winds  are  boi- 
 fterous,  the  channel  dangerous,,  and  we  are  caft  among 
 rocks,  and  have  (helves  and  quickfands  very  near  us  on 
 the  right  hand  and  on  the  left  >  is  a  bufinefs  that  calls 
 for  an  excellent  skill,    and  a  very  even  fteerage,   and 
 fuch  an  experience  as  cannot  be  learned  without  a 
 great  deal  of  pains  and  diligence.    Then  Piety  will 
 thank  us  for  our  Love,    when  we  are  courted  by  Vice, 
 And  we  mall  feem  to  have  donefome  honour  to  Good- 
 nefs  by  .cleaving  to  her,   when  we  had  large  offers  to 
 become  bad.    So  that  I  cannot  fee  by  what  merit  the 
 Seclufe  do  aflfume  to  themfelves  the  title  of  Religious 
 mors,  than  others :    feeing  they  give  a  greater  proof  of 
 
 ihcta 
 
i  J  i  The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 their  Ycrtue  who  are  in  the  World.,  and  the  World  is 
 not  in  them  •,  than  thofe  in  whom  indeed  the  World 
 is  not,  but  they  alfo  are  not  in  the  World.  It  is  more 
 glorious  to  beat  an  enemy,  than  to  fly  away  from  him  ; 
 and  it  requires  a  greater  fpirit  to  maintain  a  Breach, 
 than  to  holdout  within  the  Walls. 
 
 Not  that  I  difcommend  Solitude  at  your  firft  letting 
 out,  or  would  have  you  neglect  it  at  certain  feafons 
 through  your  whole  journey  ( for  you  fhall  know  the 
 ufe  of  it  better  hereafter )  but  it  is  not  fit  to  defign  to 
 live  always  in  fecret,  if  it  be  poffible  to  live  and  be  fafe 
 in  the  World.  This  I  would  have  you  think  is  the 
 more  perfect  life,  and  more  like  to  our  Saviours :  and 
 therefore  afpire  to  it  5  and  ftay  not  in  the  other  any 
 longer,  than  only  to  fit  and  prepare  your  felf  for  this. 
 And  tell  me  I  befeech  you ;  do  you  not  think  it  polTiblc 
 for  a  man  to  have  his  heart  in  the  World,  when  his 
 leggs  and  arms  are  out  of  it  i  may  it  not  dwell  in  his 
 fancy,  when  he  fees  it  not  with  his  eyes  i  May  he  not 
 pleafe  himfelf  in  the  ihadow  and  image  of  his  old  friend, 
 which  he  fays  is  dead  and  buried?  may  not  one  leave 
 his  foul  behind ,  when  he  withdraws  his  body  from 
 all  the  World  i  I  wifh  there  be  not  many  of  fuch  Reli- 
 gious men  and  women :  As  on  the  contrary  I  hope 
 there  are  not  a  few  whofe  minds  and  hearts  are  fhut  up 
 from  the  World,  though  they  are  with  it  every  day. 
 Who  have  made  a  Cloyfter  for  their  fouls ,  while 
 their  bodies  are  at  liberty.  Who  bridle  their  appe- 
 tites, and  lay  restraints  on  their  defires ;  though  they 
 live  at  large,  and  are  under  no  Vow  but  that  of  their 
 Baptifm. 
 
 Confider  therefore  how  ridiculous  it  is  to  imitate 
 
 another 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  1 1  j 
 
 another  fort  of  men,  who  hearing  us  fpeak  of  forfaking 
 the  World,  and  renouncing  all  its  Pomps  and  Vani- 
 ties, imagine  that  they  mould  throw  away  their 
 rich  garments,  forbear  the  civility  of  a  complement,  or 
 fo  much  as  a  falutation  ,  let  their  Gardens  become 
 Wildcrnefles,  and  their  Pictures  make  Fires,  with 
 abundance  of  fuch  like  follies.  Alasl  whac  have 
 thefe  poor  things  done,  that  we  mould  revenge  our 
 {"elves  upon  them?  what  is  their  guilt  thar  we  mould 
 be  fo  fevere  and  fierce  againft  them?  Is  this  the  mor- 
 tification the  Scripture  lpeaks  of,  to  execute  our  an- 
 ger upon  infenfible  things  i  It  would  feem  more  rea- 
 fonable,  if  when  a  man  reads  of  crucifying  theflejb,  he 
 fhould  go  and  pierce  his  own  body,  and  ftnke  nails 
 through  his  hands  and  his  feet.  And  yet  what  blame 
 doth  it  lie  under,  that  we  would  put  it  to  that  tor- 
 ment i  or  what  is  that  which  we  kill  by  fuch  cruelty  ? 
 No,  no,  we  muft  turn  the  blow  another  way.  We 
 muft  cut  off  our  affedions  from  thefe  worldly  enjoy- 
 ments. We  mud  walk  in  the  flefh,  but  not  after  it. 
 We  may  feel  its  defircs,  but  not  follow  them.  We 
 muft  labour  to  become  poor  in  the  midft  of  abun- 
 dance •,  to  be  humble  in  high  places ;  to  be  temperate 
 amongft  the  baits  of  pleafure  ;  to  ufe  thofe  things  well 
 which  cuftom  hath  abufed  5  to  think  of  our  feives  in 
 fine  cloaths,  juft  as  we  did  before  they  came  on  our 
 backs.  And  in  a  few  words,  to  withdraw  our  felvcs 
 from  all  the  inveiglements  of  the  world,  not  in  the  com- 
 mon way  of  removing  our  perfons  from  it:buc  by  remo- 
 ving it  from  our  efteem  and  affections. 
 
 But  lam  afraid  of   running  into  that  errour which 
 
 Ipurpofed  to  avoid,  if  I  ihould  continue  to  give  fuch  a' 
 
 large  and  punctual  acccount  of  all  that  the  Good  man 
 
 CL  faid 
 
u^  l^e  farahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 '  faid  in  this  Argument.   And  therefore  I  will  keep  more 
 exadly  to  my  method  in  what  enfues,   afld  contract  the 
 reft  of  hisdiicourles  concerning  Jefus, 
 II. 
 Youmuft  look  upon  Jei'us  (  proceeded  he  )  in  the 
 next  p1  ace, as  a  perfon  that  was  highly  contented^and,  ve- 
 ry liberal  m  the  midfl  of  the  greatejl  Poverty,    It  would 
 have  been  little  lets  than  a  wonder  (  as  the  World  now ' 
 goes )  if  I  had  faid  that  he  thought  he  had  enough, 
 though  all  the  ground  he  trod  upon  had  been  his  own  ; 
 and  that  he  was  bountiful,  though  he  had  been  able  to 
 pave  his  way  with  Silver  and  Gold.     But  he  hath  left 
 us  an  higher  pattern,  and  taught  us  even  in  our  Pover- 
 ty do  be  charitable  to  thofe  who  are  reduced  to  grea- 
 ter neceflities ;    and  in  the  meaneft  condition  to  be  bet- 
 ter pleated,  than  worldly  men  are  in  the  greateft  fu- 
 perfluities  and  abundance.     He  had  no  lands  nor  year- 
 ly revenues,  and  yet  the  Hofpitality  was  noble  which 
 he  maintained.    His  incomes  were  uncertain,   and  yet 
 he  never  complained  or  troubled  his  mind  becaufe  his 
 eftate  was  no  better  affined.     His  Difciples  were  men 
 of  afmall  fortune,    and  yet  he  labours  to  infufe  into 
 them  a  mod  liberal   difpofition.     He  ftuck  not  to  . 
 fpend  all  the  victuals  he  had  upon  the  hungry  multi- 
 tude.    He  choleto  lay  out  the  whole  provifion  of  his 
 numerous  Family  in  one  Feaft,  rather  than  fufrer  them 
 to  faint  who  were  come  to  hear  his  Word.     Though 
 he  lived  as  a  Begger  himfelf,  yet  he  kept  a  purfe  for 
 the  Poor.     Though  he  was  fupported  by  the  Charity 
 of  others,  yet  he  would  be  no  more  than  their  Steward, 
 and  receive  their  Alms  to  give  it  away.   Great  perlons 
 miniftrtd  ro  him,  but  he  himfelf  was  the  Mimfter  of 
 all.     His  Power  might  have  enriched  himtelf,   buc  he 
 choie  by  it  to  enrich  others.    And  this  truly  feerns  to 
 
 have 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Tilgrm.  , , . 
 
 have  been  the  proper  effc<5r  of  his  being  dad  co  the 
 World.     He  felt  no  need  of  its  Riches,   and  fo  he  did 
 not  covet  them.    And  he  did  not  let  them  i;Ko   as 
 heart  when  they  came  to  him,   and  Co  he  was  not  un- 
 willing to  part  with  them.     He  thought  the  go  dnefs 
 of  all  thefe  things  confiftcd  in  their  Ule  5  and  he  knew 
 no  better  employ  menc  for  the  m,  than  to  fend  them  to 
 lcrve  thofe  who  were  prelfed  with  wane. "  You  can- 
 not therefore  better  pleafe  him,   than  by  imitating  ihis 
 bounteous  difpcfition.     There  will  nothing  more  in- 
 dear  yoq  to  him,  than  fuch  a  generofity,    which  may 
 fhew  it  (elf  in  a  mean,    as  well  as  in  a  plentiful  fortune. 
 Do  you  not  obferve  what  praifes  he  beftows  upon  a 
 poor  Widow,  who  had  caft  all  her  living  into  the  pub- 
 lick  ftock  ?    It  feems  come  that  it  was  a  more  plea- 
 fing  fpe&ade  to  him,    than  all  the  offerings  of  the 
 Rich.     Read  but  his  famous  Sermon  which  he  made 
 to  his  Followers,  and  there  you  will  find  fo  many  pre- 
 cepts of  takingno  care  for  meat,   and  drink,    and 
 cloaths,     and  of  giving  away  hoping  for    nothing 
 again,   that  you  will  think  he  had  a  mind  to  recom- 
 mend to  them  this  contentednefs  and  Charity  above 
 all  things  elfe.     And  left  you  mould  fanfie  that  all 
 the  ads  of  his  Charity  were  miracles,   which  are  no 
 examples  to  us ;   or  be  like  the  Hypocrites,   who  ima- 
 gine his  precepts  were  given  to  upbraid  our  weaknefs, 
 an  i  reproach  to  us  our  fall,   rather  than  to  direct  our 
 practice :    Obferve  the  fmart  queftion  which  he  asks 
 toward  the  condufion  of  that  Sermon,  why  call  you  me  Luke&.& 
 Lord,  Lord,  And  do  not  the  things  vehich  I  fay  ?    As  if  he 
 fhjuld  have  faid,   Are  you  not  afhamed  to  call  me 
 your  Mafter,   and  yet  do  nothing  that  I  command  i 
 What  mifchief  is  this  that  you  mould  acknowledge 
 mine  Authority,  and  yet  not  be*governed  by  my  Will? 
 Q  2  '    Away 
 
,  t  <$  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 Away  with  this  Hypocrifie ;  Call  me  Lord  no  more, 
 when  you  will  neither  do  as  I  fay,  nor  as  I  do.  The 
 very  lame  words  fhould  I  now  fay  to  you,  if  I  did  not 
 think  thac  you  were  refolved  to  tread  in  his  (teps5 
 and  that  you  eftcemed  poverty  with  contentment  the 
 greateft  riches,  and  a  liberal  heart  with  a  fmall  eftate, 
 thelargeftpoflefllons.  You  will  not  fail,  I  know,  to 
 fcatter  your  Charity  as  you  go  along  to  Jerufalem.  If 
 you  meet  with  any  diftrefl'ed  perfon  in  your  way,  you 
 will  be  furetodolike  the  good  Samaritan,  and  pro- 
 vide for  his  health  and  deliverance.  Nay,  fpare  not 
 to  feek  for  opportunities  to  do  good :  and  fince  we 
 live  in  an  ill  natured  and  hard-hearted  Age,  let  your 
 light  fo  mine  before  men,  that  they  may  lee  Jeftu  (till 
 in  the  world.  And  indeed  I  have  oftenbeheld,  to  my 
 great  aftommment,  a  poor  Pilgrim  give  more  largely 
 to  a  charitable  life,  than  a  perfon  of  high  condition  in 
 the  world.  There  are  many  rich  Gluttons  who  will 
 beftow  more  upon  their  Dogs,  than  upon  a  needy  /,*- 
 zatus.  I  have  heard  men  wonder  they  are  not  afhamed 
 to  fee  themfelves  out- done  by  people  of  a  meaner 
 rank ;  and  that  they  do  not  fear  the  bowels  of  the  Poor 
 will  groan  againft  them,  and  complain  to  Heaven  of 
 their  unmercifulnefs :  But  fo  it  is,  that  they  have  hard- 
 ned  thdr  own  bowels  toward  them,  and  think  that 
 Heavenisasinfenfibleof  all  their  cries  as  themfelves.. 
 Their  hearts  are  as  cold  as  (tones ;  and  you  may  as 
 foon  move  a  Statue  to  do  good,  as  one  of  thefe  Images 
 of  men.  They  are  not  crucified  to  the  world,  but 
 they  are  killed  in  her  embraces,  and  (he  hath  hugged 
 them  to  death  in  her  arms.  The  world  hath  poured 
 too  many  of  her  favours  upon  them,  and  preffcd  them 
 to  death  with  the  weight  of  Silver  and  Gold.  Their 
 handsale  faftclofed,  their  fingers  are  ftiffand  rigid; 
 
 they 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  \\y 
 
 they  hold  their  money  fo  hard,  that  a  dead  mans  hand 
 cannoc  be  more  inflexible,  nor  hold  thac  thing  harder 
 which  he  grafps  when  he  is  juft  expiring.  Nothing  but 
 the  example  of  the  Lord  of  Life  will  be  of  any  power 
 to  get  them  open.  There  is  none  but  himfelf  can 
 breath  fuch  a  fpirit  into  them,  as  will  loofen  the  cold 
 bands  of  death,  and  make  them  ftrctch  forth  them- 
 felves  to  the  relief  of  their  perifhing  neighbours.  Pro- 
 pound therefore  this  pattern  every  where  in  your 
 practice  ^  and  if  men  like  not  to  be  the  Followers  of 
 Chrift  on  thefe  terms,  tell  them  they  muft  look  for 
 their  wages  at  the  Devils  hands.  He  hath  as  faft  hold 
 of  thole  Mifers  fouls,  as  they  have  of  their  money. 
 Hell  is  as  greedy  as  their  defires.  Ir  gapes  for  them,  as 
 they  do  inlatiably  for  Riches.  And  be/ides,  if  there 
 be  any  truth  in  our  facred  Books,  they, and  their  riches, 
 and  their  pofterity,  (lull  rot  and  become  as  vile  as  thofe 
 whole  milcries  they  will  not  pity. 
 1 II. 
 And  when  you  have-well  affected  your  heart  with 
 this  heavenly-minded  and  companionate  Jefus,  then 
 turn  your  eyes  to  another  fight,  and  behold  in  him  the 
 deepejt  humility,  and  the  mofl  profound  love  line fs  of 
 mind,  joyned  vpith  the greatefi  perfections ,  and  higheji- 
 abilities  that  ever  any  man  had.  If  there  were  ever  any 
 man  in  the  world  that  had  caufe  to  bear  himfelf  high, 
 this  was  the  perfon.  His  endowments  were  divine  j  his 
 reafons  were  infpirations ;  his  words  were  oracles  •,  and 
 yet  blocks  and  trunks  are  wont  now  to  life  up  them- 
 felves  higher  in  their  own  conceit  than  he  could  be 
 tempted  to  do.  Never  had  any  one  fo  large  a  know- 
 ledge, that  boafted  fo  little  of  it.  His  power  was  not 
 to  be  equalled  on  Earth,  and  yet  it  did  not  domineer 
 over  the  mcaneft  creature.     He  coulJ  do  what  he 
 
 would. 
 
n  g  The  Varahle  of  the  filgrtm. 
 
 would  with  a  word  5   but  would  noc  imploy  the  lead 
 breath  in  his  own  praifes.    The  very  hem  of  his  gar- 
 ment was  thought  to  be  of  a  miraculous  venue,    but 
 it  was  touched  with  pride  as  much  as  himfelf.     The 
 venders  which  he  did,    were  always  accompanied 
 with  another  wonder,   that  he  took  not  the  honour 
 of  them,  but  gave  it  to  God.     He  was  dead  indeed  not 
 only  to  the  outward  world,  but  alfo  to  himfelf.     He 
 was  not  only  infenfiblc  of  the  blandiihments  of  fleihly 
 pleafures,  but  of  the  flatteries  of  fpiritual  pride.     He 
 wrought  fuch  miracles  as  to  raife  the  dead,   but  they 
 could  never  raife  any  felf-conceit,  nor  give  vain-glory 
 in  him  any  life.     He  would  have  concealed  his  works, 
 if  Gods  Glory  had  not  been  concerned  in  them  more 
 than  his  own.    He  would  have  ftopt  the  peoples  mouth 
 as  well  as  his  own  breath,  andftifled  Fame  as  much  as 
 others  feek  to  give  it  air,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
 good  of  the  world  that  he  mould  be  known.     And 
 therefore  when  the  Fame  of  him  did  fly  abroad,  it  could 
 carry  no  other  news  but  that  he  was  as  humble  as  he 
 was  great.  W  hen  he  was  fo  high  in  the  peoples  eftecm, 
 that  they  would  have  advanced  him  to  be  a  King,   he 
 chofe  rather  to  remnn  a  privite  man:    When  they 
 would  have  carried  him  into  a  Palace,    and  made  him 
 a  Court,  he  liked  it  better  to  fteal  away  into  a  Deiart. 
 Poor  men  were  his  Companions  5  Fiftiermen,  and  the 
 meaner  fort  he  took  for  his  Attendants.     When  he  was 
 in  his  greateft  triumph,  he  was  meek  and  lowly,  riding 
 upon  an  Afs.  When  his  ears  were  filled  with  Hofannas, 
 he  was  going  to  humble  himfelf  to  the  fhameful  death 
 of  the  Crofs.    He  was  in  tmth  no  other  than  the  King 
 of  Conrtefie  and  Humility.     A  Prince  that  liftned  to 
 the  Petitions  of  the  pooreft  Supplicants  •   that  ftood 
 ftill  to  hear  the  cries  of  blind  Beggars ;   that  would 
 
 not 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  \  j  p 
 
 not  refufe  a  work  of  Chanty  bccautc  of  its  vilcncfs  5 
 and  in  one  word,  that  (looped  fo  low  as  to  walh  his 
 Diiciples  feet,  which  was  the  meaneft  office  of  a  Ser- 
 vant. I  need  not  tell  you  lure  for  what  purpofe  he  did 
 this,  feeing  he  himfelf  hath  laved  me  the  labour  by 
 that  fpeech  of  his  to  tho.e  whom  he  had  fo  walhed,  / 
 have  given  you  an  example ',  that  you  fboulddo  as  I  have  *°  n  I?* I3' 
 done  to  you.  Let  me  lay  to  you  t  lerefore  as  he  doth  pre- 
 fently  after  to  thole  perlbns,  if  yon  know  thefe  th.ngs, 
 happy  are  you  if  you  do  them.  You  muft  lay  your  fel  r  as  verf.  1 7. 
 low  as  the  duft  you  tread  upon  in  the  way  to  Jerufa- 
 lem.  You  muft  not  ftudy  Fame  fo  much  as  Vertue.  You 
 mull  acknowledge  God  in  all,  and  magnifie  your  felf 
 in  nothing.  You  muft  raife  a  name  to  him,  and  not 
 feek  your  own  renown.  When  you  are  praifed,  you 
 mult  be  the  fame  that  you  are  when  men  difcommend 
 you.  You  muft  think  it  dangerous  to  afpire  to  ho- 
 nours, and  hunt  after  promotions.  Let  them  find  you 
 as  unwilling  to  receive  them,  as  others  are  to  forbear 
 their  Courtlhip  towards  them.  Condefcend  to  men 
 of  low  eftate,  and  fort  your  felf  familiarly  with  thefe 
 who  are  below  you.  Lee  the  poor  never  be  the  ob- 
 ject of  your  fcorn;  but  think  that  pride  doth  render 
 you  poorer  and  more  defpicable  than  them.  Remem- 
 ber to  ftoop  to  the  meaneft  offices  of  Love,  whereby 
 you  may  ferve  your  Brethren  $  and  when  you  have 
 done  them,  think  that  they  are  to  be  done  again  when 
 their  needs  require  them.  And  that  I  may  not  feem 
 to  impofe  any  heavy  burthen  upon  you,  do  but  look  at 
 Jerusalem,  and  fee  how  Jcfus  is  advanced  by  humbling 
 himfelf  >  and  you  will  not  need  any  exhortation  to  this 
 Vertue  which  before  1  fo  much  praifed,  and  now  again 
 commend  to  your  affection.  Many  of  the  Angels,  they 
 fay,  made  it  their  ftudy  to  raife  themfelvcs  higher  than 
 
 they 
 
uo  Tk  T arable  of  the  Til^rlm. 
 
 they  were,  but  mifcarried  in  the  enterprife,   and  were 
 not  able  to  efftd  it.     They  tried  their  wings,    and 
 began  to  (bar  aloft,  but  they  failed  them  fadly,  and  lee 
 them  fuffer  a  mameful  fall .    Bat  Jefus,    on  the  contra- 
 ry, ftudied  to  be  a  great  deal  lower  than  he  was  •,    noc 
 only  lower  than  the  Angels,  but  inferiour  co  men,  even 
 thevileftof  men.    The  iflue  of  which  was,  that  you 
 fee  him  exalted  at  Gods  right  hand,  and  he  hath  railed 
 himfelf  thereby,  not  only  to  the  places  from  whence 
 thofe  Angels  fell  j    but  to  fuch  a  dignity  that  he  is 
 higher  than  all  principalities  and  powers,  and  hath  the 
 nobleft  creatures  put  in  fubj^clion  under  his  feet.     Be  a 
 follower  of  J  ejus  therefore  in  his  Humility,  deprefling 
 your  felf  as  low  as  you  can  in  your  own  thoughts  •,    for 
 that  is  the  way  to  raife  your  felf  to  the  higheft  pitch 
 of  Glory,  and  to  be  made  equal  to  the  Angels  of  God, 
 who  have  kept  their  ftation ,    and  always  had  their 
 dwelling  at  Jerusalem.     And  it  may  not  be  amifs  the 
 more  effectually  to  excite  youj    if  you  confider  how 
 thofe  noble  perfons  have  preferved  their  firft  habita- 
 tion, and  remained  fo  long  in  the  Cceleftial  Court. 
 Was  it  not  by  humbling  themfelves  to  the  meaneft 
 employments,   to  which  the  Soveraign  of  all  orders 
 and  ranks  of  being  in  the  world  was  pleafed  to  aflign 
 them?   Are  they  not  content  to  come  and  wait  upon 
 thepooreftof  us,  and  toferveas  a  Guard  to  the  moft 
 abjed:  of  the  Sons  of  Men  ?    Let  us  not  refufe  then  to 
 fubmit  to  any  condition  of  life,  wherein  our  wife  Go- 
 vernour  thinks  good  to  place  us,    nor  imagine  any  of' 
 ficc  below  us,  in  which  we  may  be  ufefuland  fervice- 
 able  to  our  Neighbours.     If  we  had  no  greater  ex- 
 ample than  the  Angels,  it  might  well  be  expected  that 
 we  fhould  not  difdain  to  appear  in  the  meaneft  drefs; 
 but  fince  the  Lord  of  them  all  is  pleafed  to  become  our 
 
 pattern. 
 
77;e  Parable  of  the  Vilgrim.  l  ii 
 
 pattern,  and  to  abafehimfelf  far  lower  than  they,  it 
 ihould  make  us  love  to  be  all  over  covered  with  this 
 Humility,  and  to  efteem  it  the  mod  glorious  Robe  that 
 we  can  wear.  And  truly,  if  our  hearts  were  touched 
 wich  fuch  a  Charity  to  others  as  he  was  indued  withal, 
 we  fliould  not  ftick  to  bow  our  felves,  though  we 
 were  never  fo  high,  to  the  vileft  fcrvices,  for  the  fuc- 
 cour  and  help  of  thofe  whofe  miferies  implored  our 
 afliftance. 
 
 IV. 
 Let  me  propofe  to  you  therefore  the  blefled  Jefus  in 
 the  next  place,  as  a  perfon  that  was  very  full of  love, 
 tender  nefs  and  bowels  of  cotnpaflion  towards  thofe  that 
 deserved  nothing ;  nay  ^towards  thofe  that  defervediU at 
 bis  hands.  He  was  fo  diipofed  to  do  good,  that  they 
 could  not  mifs  of  his  kindnefs,  who  neither  defired  it, 
 nor  were  willing  when  it  was  offered  to  receive  it.  He 
 did  not  only  pity  the  weaknefs  and  infirmity  of  his 
 Difciples ;  but  had  a  feeling  of  the  fufferings  of  thofe 
 who  were  Grangers:  neither  was  he  only  kind  and 
 benign  towards  Supplicants  5  but  his  heart  was  ten- 
 der to  the  perverfe,  untoward,  and  ungratefal  people. 
 There  was  nothing  of  roughnefs,  fowrenefs  and  uncivi- 
 lly in  his  manners ;  but  they  were  fmooth,  fweet  and 
 full  of  Courtefie.  His  heart  was  not  at  all  pinched 
 and  narrowed  by  the  Love  of  himfelf ;  but  it  was  in- 
 larged  into  fuch  an  univerfal  Charity,  that  he  feemed 
 to  forget  his  own  concerns,  the  better  to  provide  for 
 the  good  of  others.  The  inftances  of  his  benignity 
 and  good  nature  are  fo  many,  that  to  reckon  them 
 all,  would  be  as  long  as  to  tell  a  (lory  of  his  whole  life  5 
 for  he  went  about  doing  good.  It  was  his  work  and  im- 
 ployment  to  do  benefits  to  the  world.  He  was  th4 
 Sun  of  Righteoufnefs,  that  run  a  long  race  for  no  other 
 R  prize, 
 
1 1 1  The  f  arable  of  t  he  Pilgrim. 
 
 prize,  but  only  to  have  the  honour  of  fpending  his 
 beams.     He  rcjoyced  to  fpread  his  healing  wings  over 
 every  place,     lc  was  his  pleasure  to  (lied  his  influences, 
 and  to  make  all  that  faw  him  ienfible  of  his  flames. 
 The  Patients  that  (bKcited  his  healing  power,    were 
 innumerable  s    and  the  Cu  es  which  he  wrought  were 
 not  fewer  than  they.     He  lived  all  his  time  in  a  kind  of 
 Hofpital^  being  thronged  with  fick  men,  with  Lxzxrs^ 
 and  other  difeafed  folks.     And  though  it  were  turned 
 fometimes  to  a  Bedlam,   by  the  company  of  Demoni' 
 acks  and  phrene"tical  people  5    yet  he  never  complained 
 of, the  burthen,  but  cheerfully  entertained  theoccafion 
 of  putting  them  in  pofleflion  of  their  wits  again.    Ne- 
 ver did  he  fend  any  man  away  without  fatisfaclton  to 
 his  defires  •,  but  he  cad  out  Devils,  cleanfed  their  Le- 
 protics, cured  their  Palfies,   untied  the  tongue  of  the 
 dumb,  opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind,   reftored  feet  to 
 the  lame-,    andbefides  relieved  their  neccfiities,   had 
 companion  on  their  hunger,  and  fed  their  bodies  and 
 their  fouls  both  together.    The  whole  Country  Teem- 
 ed to  be  his  family  ^   and  if  he  had  been  the  Father  of 
 them  all,    he  could  not  have  been  more  tender   or 
 yearned  with  greater  bowels  of  mercy  towards  them. 
 The  opposition  and  contradiction  of  brutiilimen  did 
 not  alter  the  fweetnefs  of  his  -difpoiuion  towards  them; 
 but  he  continued  to  do  them  good,   to  befeech  and 
 entreat  them,    to  weep  over  them,  and  figh  for  their 
 Infidelity.    And  when  it  grew  to  fuch  an  height^  that 
 they  fought  to  kill  him  who  had  faved  the  lives  of 
 fomany  ;   yet  fo  great  was  his  charity,     that  he  paf- 
 fed  by  their  offences ;   fought  not  for  revenge,  which 
 it  was  eafie  for  him  to  find ;   and  to  fpeak  all  in  one 
 word,   forgave  the  moft  ungrateful  enemies  that  ever 
 were.    I  believe  you  will  eafily  grant,   that  it  is  a 
 
 matter 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 matter  of  lefs  difficulty  to   forgive  the  injuries  we 
 receive  from  one  that  never  was  obliged  to  us  ;    than 
 to  pardon  him  to  whom  wc  have  exprcfTed  the  great- 
 eft  kindnefs,  and  ufed  with  the  (iigheft  civility,    efpe- 
 cially  if  his  malice  arifc  fo  high  as  to  fcek  our  life.  And 
 yet  (b  loving  was  our  Lord,   and  fo  deiirous  to  fee  us  a 
 noble  example  -7   that  he  never  expreffe  J  greater  Cha- 
 rity,  than  when  he  had  the  greatefi  reafon  to  be  in- 
 cenfed.     He  freely  remitted  the  wrongs  of  thofe  who 
 not  only  hated  him  without  a  caufe,    but  who  had 
 great  caufe  to  love  him  above  all  the  world.     And, 
 though  the  wrongs  were  as  great  as  the  benefits  he 
 had  beftowed,  and  they  were  beyond  all  meafure > 
 yet,   as  his  benefits  did  not  make  rhem  become  his 
 friends,   fo  their  wrongs  could  not  make  him  become 
 their  enemy.     What  greater  malignity  is  there  than 
 that  which  moves  men  to  bereave  others  of  their  life? 
 and  what  greater  Charity  than  that  which  indeavours 
 to  -preferve  it  £    We  can  conceive  of  none  higher^  un- 
 Jefs  it  be  this,   to  Cacrifice  our  own  life,   for  the  prefer- 
 ving  or*  other  mens  5   efpecially  of  theirs  that  take  it 
 away.     And  fuch  was  the  Love  of  our  Lord,  who  was 
 fo  great  a  friend  to  fo  great  enemies  as  fought  for  thac 
 which  he  was  ready  to  offer  for  them.    You  know  ve- 
 ry well  his  words  upon  the  Crofs,   when  he  made  in- 
 terceflion  for  the  tranfgreflbrs,  faying  >  Father  forgive 
 them.     Could  he  more  effectually  at  that  time  refti- 
 fie  his  kindnefs,   than  by  fuch  an  indulgence  in  the 
 midft  of  that  cruelty  toward  him?    What  do  we 
 expect  more  from  a  Parent,  than  that  he  mould  over- 
 look the  faults  of  his  children  when  they  repent  and 
 fubmit  themfelves  to  him  <   And  yet  our  Lord  ufe's 
 thefe  men  with  greater  clemency,    and  gives  them  his 
 pardon  whilft  they  were  committing  of  the  fault.  Nay, 
 R  2  ne 
 
1 2  4  Tfe  IVa&e  of  the  Vilgrirn. 
 
 he  irot  only  forgave  them  himfelf  i  bat  defires  God  t6 
 grant  them  rcmiflion  too,  that  he  might  be  the  only 
 furferer,  and  they  be  free  from  puniihment. 
 
 You  fee  then  how  your  way  lyes,  if  you  will  travel 
 to  Jcrufatem^nd  defire  to  be  with  Jefa.  The  roughnefs 
 of  your  way,  and  the  afperities  of  mens  manners,  muft 
 not  fpoil  the  fmoothnefs  of  your  foul,  nor  exafperate 
 your  fpirit :  but  you  muft  be  loving  and  kincTto  all,  even 
 eo  the  greateft  offenders.  Nay,  if  your  nature  be  crab- 
 bed and  auftere,  you  muft  look  fo  ftedfaftly  upon  Jefus^ 
 and  fteep  your  thoughts  fo  long  there  5  till  he  infufe 
 himfelf  into  you,  and  change  the  harfhnefs  of  your  dif- 
 pofition  into  a  fweeter  humour.  The  way  to  Jerufrlcm, 
 I  affure  you,  is  full  of  fad  fpe&ades,  which  will  afford 
 you  no  other  pleafure  but  that  of  having  a  tender  fen(e 
 of  their  miferies,  and  doing  of  them  good.  You  muft 
 be  civil  and  affable  to  every  one  you  meet  upon  the 
 road.  You  muft  pity  and  fuccour  thofe  who  are  ready 
 to  perifb.  You  muft  counfel  and  advife  the  Ignorant, 
 and  thofe  who  are  out  of  the  way.  You  muft  blefs  thofe 
 that  throw  a  curfe  at  you  as  you  go  along.  You  muft 
 pray  for  thofe  that  do  you  wrong,  And  if  any  fellow- 
 traveller  to  whom  you  have  afforded  your  help,  mould 
 prove  a  robber,  and  make  an  aftault  upon  you  ;  you 
 muft  ftill  preferve  your  love  to  him,  and  not  fuffer  him 
 to  rifle  you  of  your  grace  to  forgive  him.  And  indeed, 
 when  we  confide*  how  much  more  reafon  there  is  that 
 we  fhould  do  good  to  others,  than  that  God  fhould  do 
 good  to  us >  and  when  we  think  alfo  how  much  more 
 he  hath  done  for  us  than  we  can  do  for  others ;  and 
 when  we  remember  withal  that  they  are  our  equals  in 
 the  chiefeft  things,  and  that  in  fome  they  may  be  our 
 fuperiours,  (when  as  he  is  fo  much  above  us  in  all  5 )  it 
 
 will 
 
T)?e  far  Me  of  the  Pilgrim.  1 2  5 
 
 will  fet  our  hearts  wide  open,and  make  them  free  and  ge  *  ■  • 
 nerous,though  they  were  never  fo  faft  locked  and  barred 
 before,  and  render  them  foft  and  tender,  though  they 
 were  as  hard  and  ftubborn  as  bolts  of  Iron.  We  (hall 
 not  then  be  backward  to  forgive  injuries,  to  do  good 
 to  enemies  5  to  repay  wrongs  with  courtefies,  to  bear 
 with  mens  folly  and  weaknefs,  to  envy  no  mans  pro- 
 fperity,  but  to  rejoyce  in  the  good  of  all,  as  if  it  were 
 our  own  hapinefs.  But  poor  Pilgrims  will  find 
 themfelves  in  fuch  need  of  the  charitable  help  and  com- 
 fort of  others,  that  I  think  it  is  not  neceflary  to  prefs 
 you  any  further  to  this  thing  which  will  be  nothing 
 mere,  than  to  do  to  til  as  you  would  that  allfhould  do  to 
 you. 
 
 V- 
 Let  me  therefore  proceed  to  tell  you  how  Jefut  hore 
 the  contumelies,  reproaches,  audjlanders  of  others  with 
 thegreatejimeeknefsjhoughhe  was  a  per  [on  of  the  great- 
 eft  quality,  and  of  the  higheft  dignity  and  rvorth.  No 
 man  ever  did  things  with  a-  better  grace,  or  deferved 
 more  to  be  accepted  with  admiration  and  praife ;  and 
 yet  there  never  was  any  perfon  entertained  with  greater 
 fcorn,  or  fuffered  more  obloquies,  and  ignominious 
 ufage  from  the  World.  But  did  he  receive  them  with 
 that  choter  and  wrath,  which  they  who  call  them- 
 felves High  Spirits,  do  fuffer  their  fouls  to  be  transport- 
 ed withal  r  No  fuch  matter ;  but  he  was  dumb  as  a 
 Lamb  before  the  {hearers,  and  did  not  fo  much  as  open- 
 hismouth  ;  though,  considering  his  high  birth,  and  the 
 manner  of  other  men,  he  was  tempted  to  roar  like  a 
 Lion,  and  fpeak  with  a  voice  of  thunder  againft  his 
 infolent  defpifers.  I  will  not  recite  all  the  vilifying 
 language,  nor  give  you  a  catalogue  of  the  contemptu- 
 ous adtions  which  he  was  affronted  with ;  but  leave 
 
 is 
 
n  £  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 it  to  your  own  diligence  to  obferve  them,  and  together 
 therewith  the  mildnefs  of  his  fpirit,   and  the  admirable 
 temper  and  moderation  of  his  mind  in  the  fharpeft  pro- 
 vocation uo  anger  and  difpleafure.     When  they  called 
 him  tJevil,  he  confuted  the  calumny  by  not  fuffering 
 the  Icaffc  ipark  of  that  hellifh  fire  to  kindle.     When 
 they  faid  he  was  an  Import  or,  and  came  to  deceive  the 
 world,  he  was  only  excited  thereby  more  boldly  to 
 fpeak  the  Truth.     And  when  they  charged  him  with 
 treafon,  heaflerted  his  innocency  by  no  other  means, 
 than  fubje&ion  of  himfelf  to  the  vileft  death.     When 
 they  fcourged  him  on  the  back,  and  buffeted   his  face ; 
 he  did  not  fo  much  as  return  them  a  lafh  or  a  blow 
 with  his  tongue.     When  they  committed  all  the  out- 
 rages that  could  be  devifed  upon  him,  they  onlyferved 
 to  prove  how  free  he  was  from  paffion  and  rage.  Which 
 methinks  mould  be  fufficient  to  cool  the  boiling  heats 
 of  the  fierceft  fpirits  •,    and  to  quench  the  intemperate 
 fires  that  burn  in  the  moft  imaged  minds.   There  is  no 
 man  that  can  boaftof  fuch  e'xtracYion  as  his ;    or  that 
 can  endure  fuch  indignities :   and  therefore  it  is  infuf- 
 fcrable  that  mens  paffion  and  anger  fhould  take  coun- 
 tenance from  the  quality  of  their  perfons,  or  the  qua- 
 lky  of  the  reproaches  that  are  offered  to  them.     No, 
 the   nobleft  men  in  the  world  ought  to  extinguifli 
 thefe  flames  by  fuch  a  glorious  example,  and  to  put  up 
 offences  and  fcorns  quietly,|  without  anfweringand  re- 
 turning the  like  again.     And  I  befeech  you  to  learn 
 this  leflbn  well  if  ever  you  mean  to  arrive  ztjerufa- 
 lem.     You  will  have  very  great  ufe  of  ir,   and  will  find 
 it  impoifible  to  hold  on  in  your  journey,  unlefs  you  be 
 fortified  with  this  meeknefs  of  fpirir,   and  can  be  con- 
 tent to  be  defpifed  and  fet  at  nought,   to  be  efteemed 
 a  fool,   an  ideor,  or  any  thing  elfe  that  men  pleafe  to 
 •     ,  call 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  1 17 
 
 call  you  while  you  are  about  Gods  bufinefs  arid  doing 
 his  will  among  them.  The  very  way  to  Jerjtjalem  is 
 loaded  with  many  reproaches,  and  therefore  they  who 
 arc  in  ic  mud  noc  expert  to  have  a  priviledge  of  fufrain^ 
 ingnoneof  them.  A  man  cannot  take  a  Pilgrimage 
 through  luch  a  world  as  this,  and  meet  with  no  affront 
 and  unworthy  utage  in  hispaifjge.  Your  very  habit 
 and  faihion,  I  mean  your  manners  and  courfe  of  life  are 
 fo  different  from  theirs,  that  they  will  not  love  you, 
 though  in  all  things  clfe  you  pleafe  them  well  enough. 
 A  mortified  life  is  a  reproach  to  thofe  who  are  diffolute.. 
 And  if  they  cannot  find  in  their  heart  to  difcommend. 
 Jerufalem,  it  is  a  grievous  rebuke  to  them  that  they, 
 do  not  travel  with  you  thither.  You  difturb  them  (o 
 much,  that  you  muft  either  have  their  company,  or 
 their  calumnies.  They  muft  either  do  well,  or  ipeafc 
 ill  of  your  ill  doings.  They  are  exafperated  hereby  to 
 {lander  you,  that  they  may  juftifie  themfelves  •  and  ra 
 follow  you  with  backbiting  language,  to  excufe  the  not 
 following  of  your  pious  lite, 
 
 It  is  the  part  now  of  a  gallant  fpirit  to  defpifc  their 
 revilings  as  much  as  they  defpifc  you.  You  cannot 
 exprefs  greater  magnanimity  than  to  neglect  the le  lit- 
 tle barkings ,  and  not  fo  much  as  lift  up  your  (faff 
 againfl  thofe  that  purfue  you  with  them.  Let  them 
 know  that  they  are  below  your  anger,  and  that  your 
 refolution  is  not  to  be  moved  by  their  petulant  ykuMtom. 
 fpeeches.  As  you  think  that  Temples  and  Kings  Pa- 
 laces are  not  diihonourei  when  the  dogs  that  come  by 
 do  lift  up  their  leggs  againft  themj  fo  you  muft  not 
 think  your  felf  the  worfe  for  the  difrefpecls,-  the  afper- 
 ik>ns  and  contemptuous  language  that  youmett  with- 
 all  in  the  world  <   but  be  as  little  concerned  in  them  as 
 
 you 
 
1 1  %  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgriml 
 
 you  arc  in  the  rudenefs  of  thofe  impudent  creatures. 
 Let  them  not  have  to  much  power  over  you  as  to  make 
 your  tongue  ftir,  unlcfs  it  be  to  blefs  them  :  impofe  a 
 perfect  filence  on  your  felf,  excepc  it  be  to  fpeak  to 
 God,  and  not  to  anfwer  them.  But  of  ihis  ill  treatment 
 whkh  you  muft  expect,  and  your  meek  indurance  of  it, 
 I  (hall  have  further  occafion  to  admonifti  you  fome  other 
 time. 
 
 VI. 
 Let  me  now  lead  you  to  take  a  (horc  glance  of  bit 
 admirable  Patience  under  unheardoffujferings,  though 
 he  was  a  perfon  no  lefsfenftble  of  pain ,  than  he  was  inno- 
 cent,and  deferred  to  be  freed  from  it.  For  which  I  (hall 
 refer  you  to  the  Hiftory  of  his  bloody  and  cruel  Death, 
 where  you  will  behold  an  heart  fo  refigned  to  God, 
 that  the  greateft  torments  could  not  make  it  recoil 
 back  into  Self,  nor  feck  for  eafe  in  any  other  place 
 than  in  union  with  his  Will.  All  that  I  (hall  fay  in  this 
 argument,  is,  that  you  muft  learn  thereby  to  indure 
 all  things,  with  a  conftant  fubmiflion  to  the  Divine 
 pleafure  and  appointment ;  without  thofe  murmurings 
 and  complaints  which  are  apt  to  accompany  the  crof- 
 fing  of  our  Defire*.  For  we  have  a  great  deal  more 
 reafon  to  do  fo  than  He,  in  as  much  as  though  we  may 
 be  innocent  toward  men,  yet  we  are  not  fo  toward 
 God  5  and  if  our  offences  were  punimed  according  to 
 our  defert,  they  would  receive  a  (harper  chaftifement 
 than  that  which  we  indure.  He  fuffered  for  well  do- 
 ing, and  we  for  ill ;  he  bore  other  mens  faults,  and  we 
 our  own ;  he  indured  much,  and  we  little :  and  there- 
 fore it  will  be  a  great  (hame,  if  when  our  fufferings 
 are  little,  our  repinings  are  great  5  and  when  we  futter 
 what  we  deferve,  it  makes  us  fo  reftlefs  and  impatient, 
 that  we  add  to  our  ill  defervings.  I  pray  you  there- 
 fore 
 
The  Tardk  of. the  Qilgrim.  \  ip 
 
 fore  to  fortifie  yourfclf  with  a  great  ftock  of  this  Ver- 
 tueof  Patience;  for,  Imufttellyou,  ere  long  a  num- 
 ber of  things  that  will  try  its  mettle,  and  (hew  you  in 
 what  great  need  you  will  (land  of  it  in  your  way  to  Je- 
 rufalem. 
 
 VII. 
 FortheprefentI  will  divert  your  thoughts  from  thefe 
 fad  fpe&ades,  and  carry  you  to  more  pleafant  contem- 
 plations. Behold  then  how  Jefuswas  much  with  God 
 by  meditation,  Prayer,  and  devout  affection,  in  the 
 midji  o/aII  hu  bitfinefs,  And  in  a  great  crowd  of  followers 
 and  Attendants.  He  lived,  as  I  faid,.  in  the  world; 
 but  in  that  he  fought  for  folitary  places,  and  abftra&ed 
 thoughts.  When  he  was  with  the  people,  He  never 
 foreat  God :  upon  all  occasions  He  took  notice  of  him, 
 and  in  whatfoever  he  did  acknowledged  him.  Buc 
 befides,  he  devifed  many  times  of  retirement,  and  was 
 wont, upon  a  remove,to  fend  his  Difciples  away  before, 
 that  he  might  ftay  alone  with  him.  Nay,  fo  defirous 
 he  was  of  his  heavenly  Solitude,  that  fometimes  he 
 continued  a  whole  night  together  in  Prayer  and  holy 
 thoughts.  And  fo  truly  would  I  have  you  do  in  your 
 Travels:  Take  the  advantage  of  any  Shades  or 
 Groves  that  you  (hall  meet  withal ,  for  fecret  con- 
 ference and  difcourfc  between  God  and  your  Soul. 
 Repofe  your  felf  as  long  as  you  can  in  thofe  cool  and 
 ftill  places,  and  there  invite  Heaven  into  your  Society, 
 and  prepare  yourfclf  for  the  Prefent  it  will  make  you 
 or  the  bed  of  its  bleflings.  Nay,  I  would  have  you 
 form  your  felf  fuch  occafions  as  oft  as  you  are  able, 
 and  c  ntrivt  opportunities  for  privacy  and  inclofed 
 thoughts.  Build  a  great  many  little  Arbours  with 
 your  own  hands,  into  which  you  may  withdraw  your ' 
 felf  and  be  alone.  Get  out  of  the  throng,  and  make 
 S  all 
 
1 1 0  Tlx  Parable  of  t he  Pilgrim. 
 
 all  affairs  give  way  to  the  entertainment  chat  God  wit 
 give  your  foul  in  his  blefled  company.  Bid  them  ftand 
 afide  awhile  and  noc  prelume  to  difturb  the  bulinefs 
 which  you  have  above.  Let  every  thing  underftand 
 that  you  are  entred  into  an  holy  place,  whither  they. 
 mud  not  dare  to  approach.  And  when  you  are  thus 
 fequeftred,  let  me  tell  you  this  for  your  comfort,  that 
 you  will  have  the  faireft  profpecl  before  your  eyes  that 
 is  to  be  found  on  this  fide  Jerufalem.  You  will  fee  the 
 Glory  of  God  that  mines  in  all  the  World  ;  you  will 
 hear  the  mufick  which  all  his  creatures  make  in  his 
 praife  $  you  will  be  ravifhed  with  the  tafte  of  his  good- 
 nefs,  which  you  will  feel  him  pouring  out  on  every 
 fide  $  and  in  one  word,  you  will  behold  fo  much  of 
 the  Beauty  of  Jerufalemlx.  felf,  that  you  will  travel 
 with  the  better  courage  thither.  But  that  in  which 
 I  would  have  you  fpend  the  greateft  part  of  thofe  pri- 
 vate feafons,  is  in  thinking  of  your  own  eftate,  and  com- 
 paringyour  life  with  the  life  of  Jefus.  Let  him  be 
 your  companion  when  you  are  alone :  look  ftedfaftly 
 on  his  face,  and  obferve  what  rcfemblance  you  bear  to 
 him.  Pray  him  to  draw  and  defcribe  himfelf  more  ex- 
 actly upon  your  foul,  and  to  fupply  all  the  lines  that 
 are  rtill  wanting  to  render  you  an  accompliihed  Image 
 of  him.  Shew  him  how  defirous  you  are  to  be  con- 
 formed in  all  your  thoughts,  words,  defires,  and  acti- 
 ons, to  that  excellent  model  of  perfection  which  he 
 hath  given  you  in  his  own  example.  Let  him  know 
 how  much  you  are  in  love  with  him,  and  that  youwirti 
 for  this  above  all  the  World,  to  be  like  to  him.  It  can- 
 not be  thought  that  he  will  deny  your  defires,  or  lee 
 your  indeavours  want  his  help  for  the  making  you 
 more  compleatin  him.  You  will  come  outofthefe 
 iccrc  t.  places  withagre^tkftre,.  and  iiTue  forth  with 
 
 a  greater 
 
V)e  ?  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  , ,  t 
 
 a  greater  force  and  power  to  follow  the  fteps  of  your 
 Saviour.  Your  face  will  be  indued  with  fuch  a  bright- 
 nefs,  and  call  fuch  a  fplendor  round  abour,  that  ic  will 
 be  feen  by  all  that  you  have  been  with  Jefits.  Who 
 can  exprefs  the  pleafures  that  hide  themfelves  in  thefe 
 retreats  •  or  tell  rhe  contentments  that  are  locked  up 
 in  thofe  unfrequented  dofets  i  Do  but  enter  into  the 
 hrft  of  them  that  prefents  its  felf,  and  there  will  need 
 nothing  more  than  the  fenlible  delectation  which  you 
 will  find  in  it,  to  invite  you  to  feekfuch  filent  retire- 
 ments. Thefe  quiet  places  are  the  refemblances  of 
 the  ferene  regions  above,  and  little  models  of  Heaven. 
 They  are  hung  round  about  alfo  with  a  great  many 
 Pictures  of  7f/«/,which  will  ravifh  your  heart,and  draw 
 it  out  ofyour  body  to  match  it  up  to  himfelf.  In  one 
 corner  you  will  fee  him  pidured  as  the  Lover  of  men; 
 and  in  another  you  will  behold  him  in  the  greateft 
 abafement  and  humility  that  ever  was.  On  tnis  fide 
 you  will  fee  him  dealing  his  charity  to  the  Poor,  and 
 on'.thathe  willdifcover  himfelf  attending  on  the  Sick. 
 Here  his  Meeknefs,  there  his  Patience  will  be  lively 
 reprefented  to  your  eyes.  In  one  place  you  will  find 
 him  pouring  out  his  inftru&ions ,  and  in  another 
 pouring  out  his  blood  for  the  Good  of  men.  And 
 from  every  one  of  thefe  you  will  receive  fuch  touches, 
 and  feel  your  heart  fo  wounded  5  that  you  will  never 
 be  more  inamoured  of  him,  than  when  you  and  he  thus 
 meet  alone,  and  he  makes  this  private  vific  to  your 
 Soul.  There  he  will  open  his  very  heart  to  you,  and 
 let  you  fee  how  much  you  are  in  his  favour.  TThere 
 he  will  impart  to  you  his  confolatroas,  and  fill  you  with 
 his  Spirit.  Your  mind  will  there  be  illuminated,  your 
 affe&ions  inflamed,  your  rcfolutions  ftrengthened,  and 
 all  your  faculties  invigorated  with  a  greater  chearful- 
 S  2  nefs 
 
i  j  i  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 mfsin  obedience  to  his  Will.  And  therefore  do  not 
 fail  as  oft  as  you  can,  to  get  out  of  the  duft  and  heat  of 
 this  world,  into  thele  clofe  and  cool  walks  which  Je- 
 fus  frequents.  For,  though  the  dews  of  the  t  Divine 
 Grace  fall  every  where,yet  they  lie  longed  in  the  (hide. 
 Thefe  fugared  drops  do  love  moft  to  ftay  in  the  fohtary 
 places.  And  when  you  can  find  no  where  elfe  this  milk 
 of  Heaven  wherewith  all  things  are  nouriihed  and  re- 
 freftied-  you  will  be  fure  to  meet  with  plenty  of  it  in 
 thefe  hidden  recefies. 
 
 VIII. 
 But  then  I  muft  remember  you,  That  in  the  greateft, 
 moji  open  and  full  manifeflations  of  the  Glory  of  God  up- 
 on Jefus  he  was  very  private  too,  and  cared  not  for  ha- 
 ving ttpublijhed  andtalkt  of  abroad  in  the  wor/^.When 
 he  was  transfigured  in  the  Holy  Mount,  you  read  that 
 he  went  afide  privately  with  a  few  of  his  Difciples, 
 which  may  well  commend  unto  you  the  love  of  retire- 
 ment :  And  that  brightnefs  alfo  wherewith  he  was  cloa- 
 thed,he  commanded  to  be  concealed  as  a  great  fecret,till 
 a  fit  feafon  to  divulge  it  5  which  may  well  teach  us  to 
 keep  to  ourfelves  what  partes  between  God  and  our 
 fouls,  till  others  may  be  concerned  in  it  as  much  as  our 
 felves.  You  may  referr  this  perhaps  to  the  Humility 
 of  his  Spirit,  but  yet  I  thought  good  to  advife  you  of 
 it  alone,  becaufe  it  deferves  a  particular  consideration. 
 There  is  a  vanity  you  may  be  guilty  of  if  you  heed  not 
 this,  of  glorying  when  you  come  abroad  again,  of  the 
 fecret  communication  that  you  have  had  with  Jefua  in 
 the  time  of  your  Solitude.  For  I  obferve  it  is  the  Ge- 
 nius of  fome  who  profefs  acquaintance  with  Him, when 
 they  feel  any  delicious  joys  exceeding  the  common 
 fort  ( which  perhaps  are  indulged  only  in  favour  of 
 their  weaknefs,   and  intended  meerly  to  cherifh  their 
 
 pre- 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 prefent  childifli  condition)  to  blaze  them  everywhere, 
 and  report  them  to  others  without  any  great  occalion 
 for  it.  They  think  it  a  piece  of  Religion  to  communi- 
 cate their  experiences  to  the  nexc  padenger  they  meet 
 withal:  They  love  that  others  fhould  know  how 
 nobly  they  are  treated :  and  fo  they  lay  a  double  fn2rt, 
 one  for  themfelves  by  the  high  conceic  which  they 
 mayraifein  others  of  their  excellencies }  and  a  fecond 
 for  their  Neighbours,  by  the  difcouragement  they  may 
 feelforwant  of  fuch  elevations.  If  your  fpirit  there- 
 fore be  at  any  time  tranfported  ;  if  Ged  fhine  into 
 your  heart  very  brightiy,  and  darken  all  this  World  in 
 your  eyes  by  caufag  his  glory  to  cover  you  5  I  befeech 
 ycucaft  a  cloud  about  ir,  that  nobody  elle  may  fee  it, 
 unlefs  the  good  of  others  make  it  necefiary  that  it  fhould 
 be  revealed.  Draw  a  vail  over  your  face  when  it  is  fo 
 radiant,  left  by  mining  too  brightly  upon  others,  it  hurt 
 their  eyes:  and  the  reflection  of  it  prove  dangerous  to 
 your  felf.  As  when  you  ai  e  in  the  world,  you  muft 
 not  forget  to  be  private  with  God ;  fo  when  you  have 
 been  the  raoft  with  God,  it  is  fafeft  to  keep  it  private 
 from  the  World. 
 
 IX. 
 It  maybe  feafonable  here  to  add,that  while  He  mdh- 
 timed,  this  delightful  Converge  with  God  for  but  own 
 benefit)  his  life  was  mcfl  profitable  to  others.  Prayer 
 and  Meditation  did  not  hinder  his  labours  •  bu:  they 
 were  fpurrs  to  induftry,  and  made  him  rr.ore  careful 
 to  do  his  work  for  which  he  was  fent  into  the  World. 
 He  was  not  only  attent  to  his  own  fpirit  that  it  might 
 be  kept  with  God,  but  he  watcht  for  advantages  of 
 bringing  the  hearts  of  others  to  him.  Much  lets  did 
 he  fpend  his  time  in  pleafing  amufements  co  think  how 
 much  he  was  in  the  favour  of  Heaven^  but  he  iflued 
 
 lout 
 
,24  Tlx  Parable  of  the  V'tlgim. 
 
 out  of  thefe  delicious  thoughts,  and  took  as  great  a 
 pleafure  in  introducing  others  into  the  fame  favour. 
 There  was  no  hour  palled,   but  he  did  fome  good  or 
 other  to  the  World.  The  finishing  of  one  undertaking, 
 was  but  the  paffage  to  another.     When  he  ceafed  to 
 do  any  thing,  it  was  only  that  it  might  begin  again. 
 The  change  of  his  labours  ferved  him  infkad  of  a  re- 
 pofe.     And  to  do  a  new  work  was  all  the  Reft  that 
 he  defired.     His  greateft  pleafure  was  to  do  a  pleafure 
 to  other  men.     He  chofe  rather  to  want  his  meat,  than 
 (uffar  them  to  want  his  help.     The  greater  pain  there 
 was  in  any  bufineffj  the  more  he  delighted  in  it:    and 
 pleafure  could  not  win  his  love,  but  by  means  of  the 
 labour  which  brought  it  forth.     In  which  diligence 
 it  concerns  yoti  very  highly  to  imitate  him,  if  you  mean 
 to  allure  your  arrival  at  Jerufalem.     The  world  is  then 
 to  be  feared,  when  it  finds  us  empty  and  void  of  im- 
 ployment.    We  are  fafe  enough,  though  we  live  in  it, 
 if  we  do  not  live  in  Idlenefs.     While  we  have  fome- 
 thing  elfe  to  do,  we  (hall  eafily  refift  it,  and  turn  afide 
 the  ftrongeft  of  its  temptations.    You  rauft  not  be  at 
 leifure  to  go  about  any  thing  that  is  bad.     You  muft 
 deprive  vice  of  all  means  to  approach  you,   and  let  it 
 have  no  time  wherein  to  make  its  affaults.     Whenfo- 
 ever  it  attempts  to  enter,    let  it  find  that  you  are  full, 
 and  that  there  is  no  room  at  all  for  its  entertainment. 
 Let  the  felicitations  of  the  flefh  ever  come  out  of  ki~ 
 fon,  and  know  that  you  have  not  a  moment  but  what 
 is  pre-  ingaged  to  fome  other  imployment.     When  any 
 temptation  defires  to  fpeak  with  you,  let  the  anfwer 
 be  ready,  that  there  is  other  company  within,  and  that 
 you  cannot  attend  it :   and  when  it  would  violently 
 draw  you  away,   let  it  find  you  bound  and  held  very 
 faft  by  fomething  elfe.    Finally,;  be  unwearied  in  well 
 
 doing, 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrlm.  i }  j 
 
 doing,  and  alloc  every  portion  of  your  time  to  fome  h©- 
 neft  ufe  or  other :    So  will  the  World  defpair  of  win- 
 ning you  to  her  defires,  when  it  always  takes  you  other- 
 wife  bulled,  and  perceives  that  all  your  hours  are  defi- 
 ned to  other  purpofes.     And  truly  if  this  were  the  con- 
 ftant  end  of  our  living,  to  dogood,  or  to  receive  ir,  ic 
 would  prove  the  Bane  of  fo  many  unprofitable  thoughts 
 when  we  are  alone,  and  fo  many  unprofitable  words, 
 when  we  are  with  others,  that  we  and  the  world  would 
 be  very  much  amended  by  it. 
 X. 
 But  now  it  is  time  to  draw  to  an  end  of  this  difcourfer 
 and  therefore  I  will  only  give  you  a  fhorc  remembrance 
 of  this  one  thing  m^re,  thatjefus  was  veryftrongto  re- 
 ft ft  the  temptations  of  the  Devil  in  the  midft  ofhugreat- 
 teft  rveaknejs,    and  had  a  great  Faith  and  confidence 
 in  God  in  the  midft  of  the  great  eft  dangers,   and  moft 
 fuddenfvrprifes.     His  long  hunger  was  not  fo  fbarp,  as 
 to  provoke  him  to  take  any  undue  means  for  its  fa- 
 tisfaftion.     When  his  Difciples  awaked  him  in  the 
 middle  of  a  tempeft,  his  heart  wras  not  terrified,  nor  his 
 thoughts  difordered  ;    but  he   gravely  reproves  the 
 fmallnefs  of  their  Faith.     He  ever  held  Heaven  faft  by 
 the  hand,    and  whatfoever  it  was  that  aflaid  to  fluke 
 his  conftancy$    he  flood  firm,  and  would  not  be  mo- 
 ved fo  much  as  to  doubt  of  the  prefence  and  power  of 
 Go  1  with  him.     Be  you  fure  to  have  this  Faith  and 
 powerful  confidence  of  his  always  in  your  eye  :    for 
 youmuftnotexped(asI  fH all  fliottly  tfclfyou}  to  pafs. 
 to  Jerufalem  without  many  conflicts.     When  you  are 
 moft  infirm,   your  enemies  will  moft  ftrongly  afTaulc 
 ycu,    and  ftrive  tohile  and  draw  you  ano:her  way. 
 Your  afBidlions  will  give  them  refolution,    and  in  the 
 titneof  your  languilhments  they  will  tak*  to  them- 
 
 felves> 
 
Iff  Woe  TarahleoftheVilgritn. 
 
 felves  the greateft  courage.  Whatfoever  other  weak- 
 nefs  therefore  you  labour  under,  be  fure  you  be  not 
 weak  in  Faith:  and  when  all  other  fupports  in  the 
 World  fail  you,  remember  to  cleave  and  adhere  clofe- 
 ly  unto  God.  Kctp  awake  a  fenfe  of  his  prefence  with 
 you,  by  often  thoughts  of  him  ;  thruft  your  ielf into 
 his  arms  continually  by  a  firm  :ruft  in  him  ;  be  ftrong 
 in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  powei  of  his  might,  by  taking 
 hold  of  his  Almighty  Goadnefs.  And  then  let  your 
 Adverfaries  be  what  they  will,  whether  from  within, 
 or  from  without ;  let  their  Armies  be  never  fo  nume- 
 rous which  are  fa  in  battle  againft  you:  Doubt  not 
 but  through  an  holy  confidence  in  God,  and  the  fer- 
 vent prayer  of  Faith  for  the  aids  of  his  Spirit  •,  they 
 (hall  all  disband  and  fly  away  like  fo  many  heaps  of 
 duft  before  the  wind,  and  yield  you  the  victory  which 
 they  promifed  to  themfelves.  In  this  affurance  I  think 
 it  is  beft  to  feal  up  the  fecrets  of  that  fentence  which  I 
 have  been  fo  long  difdofing  to  you.  For,  though  there 
 are  many  other  things  remarkable  in  Jefus  (as  you  will 
 fee  if  you  frequently  faften  your  eyes  upon  him}  yet  if  I 
 fhould  enumerate  them  all,  I  muft  tarn  over  the  leaves 
 of  the  whole  Gofpel,  and  unfold  them  to  you.  The 
 particulars  alfo  that  I  have  mentioned,  are  fufficient  to 
 J>ive  you  fuch  a  tafte  of  him,  that  if  you  like  them,  you 
 cannot  but  delight  to  feek  out  all  the  reft  your  felf  -y  and 
 therefore  I  (hall  not  deprive  you  of  thai  pleafure,  prefu- 
 ming  that  you  are  not  infenfible  from  what  hath  been 
 faid,  that  there  is  no  greater  than  to  know  and  to  follow 
 
 CHAP. 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  1 57 
 
 CHAP.    XVI. 
 
 Of  Faith  in  Jefus.  Hove  imperfectly ^  or  oofcurely  it  it 
 commonly  expreffed,  to  the  great  danger  of  Chri/iian 
 Pilgrims,  nhxt  the  true  notion  of  it  ps,  vchicto  can- 
 not deceive  U4, 
 
 AN  D  truly  herein  it  was  not  miftaken  ,  for 
 though  hefpoke  thefe  laft  words  with  an  accenc 
 very  fliarp,  yet  the  Pilgrim  hath  often  fince  faid,  that 
 he  thought  his  heart  made  a  ill  iller  Echo  ;  and  bade 
 him  Follow  Jefus.  It  is  not  in  tl  e  compals  01  my  power 
 to  relate  the  contentment  which  the  poor  man  took  in 
 this  difcourfe.  He  felt  rather  anexceilive  joy,  than 
 a  bare  fatisfa&ion,  which  gave  many  indications  of  ic 
 felf,  though  it  could  not  be  exprefled.  But  the  firft 
 words,  as  I  remember,  which  he  uttered  when  the 
 other  made  a  little  flop,  was  this  vehement  exclama- 
 tion. O  Sir,  how  happily  have  you  undeceived  me ! 
 I  have  thought  fometimes,  that  the  way  to  Jeruf&lem 
 lay  moit  of  all  through  Churches;  and  that  a  Pilgrim 
 had  little  elfe  to  do  but  only  to  hear  Sermons  very  ofc, 
 and  read  good  Books,  and  make  many  prayers ;  and 
 that  in  thefe  the  very  life  of  Religion  did  confift.  Nay, 
 I  have  been  perfwaded  to  think  that  he  had  no  other 
 task  but  only  to  Believe  on  Jefus,  and  that  he  would 
 take  care  to  carry  him  to  Jerufalem.  But  thanks  be 
 to  God  and  you,  I  have  now  heard  another  leflbn, 
 which  I  will  ftudy  to  learn  my  whole  life.  I  find  my 
 felf  already  fo  much  in  love  with  Jefus,  that  I  believe 
 I  (hall  carefully  mark  every  ftep  of  his  holy  feet,  of 
 which  he  hath  left  us  any  print  •  and  indcivour  to  tread 
 T  in 
 
The  f  or  able  of  th  Pilgrim. 
 in  them,  following  of  them  with  as  much  exaftnefs  as  I 
 am  able.     He  would  have  added  a  great  many  more 
 proteftations  of  his  hearty  intentions,   but  that  the 
 Guide  thought  it  fit  to  lay  hold  on  this  occafion  to  in- 
 ftrutt  him  a  little  further  about  thofe  things  wherein 
 he  had  been  fogrofly  abufed.     Having  let  him  know 
 therefore  that  he  was  no  lefs  pleafed  than  himfelf  to 
 fee  fo  fudden  a  fruit  of  his  labours,    he  proceeded  to 
 tell  him  that  he  had  taught  him  nothing  new  in  all  his 
 difcourfe,   nor  fpoke  one  fy liable  but  what  was  com- 
 prehended in  thofe  few  words,  if  rightly  underftood, 
 Believe  in  the  Lord  Jeftts.  For,  though  Faith  in  Chrift 
 hath  fometimesareftrainedfenfe  importing  our  truft 
 in  him  for  help  and  fuccour ;  yet  when  it  ftands  alone 
 by  it  (elf,  it  hath  a  more  comprehenfive  meaning.    Ic 
 is  fo  far  from  denoting  fuch  a  part  of  Religion  as  thofe 
 now  mentioned,    that  it   frequently  comprifes  the 
 whole ;   and  it  muft  always  be  conceived  fuch  a  part, 
 as  neceflarily  implies  and  inferrs  all  the  reft.    I  fpeak 
 now  of  the  Pilgrims  Faith,  which  you  muft  carry  along 
 with  you.    Of  which,  whofoever  gives  you  any  other 
 defcripuon  than  fuch  as  this,  doth  but  deceive  you, 
 viae,,    that  it  is  fuch  an  hearty  perfwafion  of  the  truth, 
 and.goodnefs  oi  Gods  promifes,  and  of  every  thing  elfe 
 that  he  hath  fpoken,  as  makes  us  obedient  in  all  things 
 to  his  commands.    There  is  nothing  more  vifible  than 
 this  in  the  very  firft  man  of  the  Order  into  which  you 
 are  entring :   Abraham  I  mean,  the  moft  ancient  Pil- 
 grim that  I  read  of,  and  the  Father  of  faithful  Travel- 
 lers ;    Who  being  commanded  by  God  to  leave  his 
 own  Country,  his  Kindred,  and  his  Fathers  houfe,  moft 
 readily  obeyed ;    in  a  perfwafion  that  God  would  be  as 
 good  as  his  word,    and  blefs  him  with  poflfeflions  fome- 
 where  elfe.    He  was  the  man  whom  God  called  to  his 
 
Tl?e  Tar  able  of  the  filgrirn*  i  >  a 
 
 foots  and  who  marched  whithesfoever  he  would  lead 
 him:  in  refemblance  to  whom  all  his  children  are  de- 
 fcribed  in  the  Chrittian  Church,  as  thofe  who  follow 
 the  Lamb  whitberfoever  be  goes.  Conformity  to  Jefits, 
 is  abfolutely  necdTary  to  make  us  fuch  believers  as 
 ihall  inherit  the  promifes.  Though  the  general  notion 
 of  Faith  do  not  include  obedience  ( being  only  our  per- 
 fwafion  of,  and  aiTtnt  unto  the  truth  of  what  is  de- 
 livered to  us  upon  the  teftimony  of  God  J  yet  faving 
 Faith,  that  Faith  which  will  carry  us  to  Jerufalem}  can 
 never  be  underftood  without  it.  All  the  definitions 
 you  meet  with,  whatfoever  they  be,  which  feparate 
 obedience  from  this  Faith,  1  do  confidently  allure  you* 
 arc  bnt  a  meer  cheat,  and  a  dangerous  iliufion.  Obe- 
 dience is  fo  much  of  the  nature  of  the  Pilgrims  FAitb, 
 that  I  fay  it  again,  it  ought  to  enter  its  Definition. 
 W  hich  is  as  much  as  to  fay,  that  one  cannot  fpeak  in 
 any  terms  or  phrafes  which  are  not  deceitful  and  liable 
 tobeabufed,  of  that  Faith  which  will  bring  us  lafe  to 
 Heaven  5  but  he  muft  make  mention  of  the  obedience 
 it  produces  to  the  commands  of  our  Saviour.  This  is 
 the  very  thing  that  diftinguiihes  faving  Faith  from  that 
 which  is  not  faving  \  and  cheiefore  if  this  be  left  ouc 
 when  we  fpeak  of  it,  we  may  make  men  Hypocrites 
 fooner  than  fincere  Chriftians. 
 
 But  if  I  may  be  fo  bold,  as  to  interpofe  a  Queftion 
 ("faid  the  Learner)  I  pray  fatisfiemewhy  you  call  this 
 the  pilgrims  FAith :  is  there  any  elie  befides?  There 
 is,  replyed  his  Teacher ;  we  meet  in  this  world  with  a 
 Faith  more  gallant,  fine  and  delicate,  than  the  plain 
 and  homely  belief  which  I  have  defcribed.  A  modijb 
 a*d  courtly  Faitbit  is,  which  (its  ftill,  andyetfetsyou 
 in  the  lap  of  Chrift.  It  pafles  under  fo  many  names, 
 T  2  tHac 
 
,40  ^  Tar  able  of  the  filgrim. 
 
 that  I  cannot  fknd  to  number  them  all  now.  It  is 
 called  a  carting  of  our  felves  upon  Chrift,  a  relying  ort 
 his  merits,  a  ftirouding  our  felves  under  the  robes  of 
 his  righteoufnefs :  and  though  fomecimes  it  is  called  a 
 going  to  him  for  Salvation }  yet  there  is  this  myllerie 
 in  the  bufinefs,  that  you  may  go,  and  yet  not  go;  you 
 may  go,  and  yet  fhnd  ftill ;  you  may  caft  your  felf 
 upon  him,  and  not  come  to  him  5  or  if  you  take  one 
 little  ftej;>,  and  be  at  the  pains  to  come  to  him,  the  work 
 is  done,  and  you  need  not  follow  him.  It  is  indeed* 
 refting,  not  a  travelling  Grace.  And  fuch  a  grand 
 tecret  there  is  in  it,  that  a  man  may  reft  before  he  ftir  a 
 foot  >  he  may  lean  on  Chrift,  and  approach  no  nearer 
 him  than  he  was  before  ;  he  may  lay  hold  on  him,  and 
 yet  reaiain  at  the  greateft  diftance  from  him.  It  wilt 
 carry  you  to  the  end  of  your  way,  before  yoa  are  at 
 the  beginning  5  The  very  firft  ftepof  ic,  is  o  ftay  your 
 felf:  the  beginning  of  its  motion,  is  to  be  at  reft.  Do 
 you  not  fee  a  ftrange  inchantment  in  it  already  *  Is  ic 
 not  a  magical  operation,  or  much  beholden  to  ftrength 
 of  fancy,  and  the  witchcraft  of  imagination  f  For  my 
 part  1  fliould  take  my  felf  to  be  in  a  far  worfe  condi- 
 tion than  Crefinitu  was,  if  I  fliould  be  accufed  of  vend- 
 ing tuchdruggs  and  dealing  in  fuch  dangerous  charms. 
 I  would  grant  my  enemies  had  caufe  to  exclaim,  and 
 fhould  never  exped  to  clear  my  ft  If,  if  I  ftood  charged 
 with  fuch  incantations.  There  is  no  jugling  fo  arti- 
 ficial, whereby  I  could  hope  to  hide  the  deceit  if  I 
 abufed  the  world  with  thefe  impoftures.  My  own 
 confcience,  I  meanj  would  indiel  me,  and  pronounce 
 my  condemnation,  though  I  think,  if  the  greateft  pare 
 ©f  the  men  among  us,  were  to  be  Judges,  I  need  not 
 fear  their  fentenceagainft  me.  For  the  charm,  I  ob- 
 fcive,  is  fo  powerful,  and  the  fafcination  of  fuch  plea- 
 
 furc, 
 
Tlx.Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ,4I 
 
 fore,    that  the  numbers  are  hji  to  be  told  which  are 
 bewitched  wkh  it.     The  multitude  goes  in  crouds  in 
 this  wide  road  :  the  voice  of  the  people  ct)  es  up  this  as 
 the  only  way  to  Heaven.     AU  the  lewd  men  in  the 
 world  are  well  contented  to  take  this  j  >urn?y,    which 
 may  be  fmimed  at  one  ftep  ;  and  :o  run  this  race  which 
 may  be  accomplished  in  a  breach,   and  for  which  the 
 laft  breath  in  their  body  may  as  w  ell  ferve  as  any  elfe. 
 There  is  no  man  but  he  lay*  hold  of  Chart ;  and  having 
 hetid  that  this  is  Faith,  do  what  you  can,  it  is  not  poi- 
 iible  to  beat  off  his  hands.    There  is  not  a  foul  fo 
 wicked,  bu:  it  applies  to  it  fell  his  righteoui'nefs,  and 
 fancies  ail  its  fins  to  be  covered  therewith.     It  is  the 
 fweeteft  thing  in  the  world  tocaft  themfeives  into  his 
 arms,    and  expect  not  to  go ,  but  to  be  carried  to 
 Heaven.  They  reft  on  him  and  him  only  for  Salvation. 
 They  reft  on  him  fo  folely  for  it,   that  they  are  loth 
 to  ftit  a  foot  to  contribute  any  thing  toward  it.     They 
 would  have  him  take  all  the  honour  of  the  bu/ineis 
 to  himfelf,    and  are  defirous  to  do  not  To  much  as  one 
 good  action,   but  leave  him  to  do  all,   and  impute  his 
 doings  to  them*    Thus  they  imagine  themlelves  to  be 
 the  only  advancers  of  Free  Grace i    and  they  think 
 there  are  none  but  they  that  fet  the  Crown  upon  Chrifts 
 head.  Such  an  admirably  fubrilty  there  is  in  this  Faith, 
 that  they  can  ferve  their  own  intereft  by  it,    and  vec 
 feem  all  the  while  to  be  the  beft  fervants  of  Chri/l. 
 They  can  promote  their  own  defires,    and  yer  found 
 aloud  his  Glory.    They  can  invade  his  rights  as  much 
 as  they  lift  ;    and  yetbe  thought  the  only  perfonsthac 
 make  it  their  care  he  fhould  not  be  wronged. 
 
 Nay,  it  makes  men  think  that  God  is  beholden  to 
 thera,    for  being  fo  c  amio as  as  to  give  hi  n  nothing. 
 
 He 
 
x .  2  The  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim] 
 
 Hefhould  notbefomuch  obliged,  if  they  fhould  en- 
 deavour to  become  better.  The  only  qualification  that 
 i hey  know  of  for  his  favours,  is  not  to  be  qualified  ac 
 all  to  receive  them.  He  owes  it  feems,  much  of  Glo- 
 ry to  their  want  of  vertue.  If  they  fhould  give  him 
 more  than  they  do,  he  would  have  lefs.  To  bring 
 any  thing  to  him,  would  be  to  rob  him,  and  take  away 
 from  him.  His  Grace  would  lofe  its  name,  if  they 
 ihould  ftudy  to  attain  it.  They  fhould  detract  very 
 much  from  the  freenefs  of  itl  if  they  fhould  provide  for 
 any  thing  but  only  to  receive  ir.  It  would  not  be  fo 
 rich,  if  they  were  not  poor  and  beggarly  in  all  good 
 works.  His  honour  relyes  very  much  upon  their 
 weaknefs,and  hisGlory  is  (upported  by  their  imbecility  i 
 To  be  much  in  debt  to  him,is  the  heft  payment  that  can 
 be  made  him.  To  win  his  love,  it  is  beft  to  be  men  of 
 no  defert.And  to  be  out  of  all  danger  of  trufting  to  their 
 own  righteoufnefs ;  they  judge  it  the  fureft  courfe  to 
 have  none  at  all. 
 
 Thefeare  the  men  who  make  the  Grace  of  God  fo 
 free,  that  he  leaves  nothing  for  himfelf.  The  riches 
 of  it  is  fo  abundant  towards  them,  that  he  gives  away 
 all  his  own  right.  He  makes  fuch  liberal  grants  to 
 thefe  favourites,  that  there  remains  nothing  as  a  Du- 
 ty to  him.  He  takes  fuch  a  great  care  of  their  plea- 
 fure,  that  he  forgets  his  own.  And  loves  to  lee 
 them  have  their  will  fo  much,  that  he  fuflfers  his  own 
 to  be  eroded  for  their  fake.  It  is  not  he,  it  mould 
 feem,  but  they  that  rule  the  world.  His  will  bends 
 to  their  defires :  and  fince  they  have  no  mind  to  be 
 good ;  they  have  invented  a  way  that  he  may  love 
 them,  though  they  continue  bad.  He  fees  them  not 
 (as  they  fancy)  in  themfelves,  but  in  a  difguife.    They 
 
 do 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Tilgrim.  1 4  3 
 
 do  not  appear  in  their  own  colours,  but  in  another* 
 drefs.  He  doth  not  behold  them  naked,  but  cover- 
 ed in  the  Robes  of  Chrift.  And  though  they  have 
 a  World  of  fins,  yet  they  think  to  have  them  hid, 
 while  he  looks  upon  their  garments,  and  not  upon 
 them.  And  indeed  fo  free  is  this  Grace,  that  he  can 
 have  no  title  to  their  obedience,  but  only  their  own 
 gratitude.  He  holds  his  Kingdom  and  Authority, 
 only  by  their  good  will.  If  they  do  what  he  de- 
 fires,  it  is  their  kindnefs,  and  more  than  they  owe  him. 
 Since  Chrift's  obedience  is  perfonally  imputed  to 
 them,  he  cannot  in  jufticerequire  any  at  their  hands. 
 Since  he  hath  performed  the  Law  in  their  ftead,  and 
 made  his  righteoufnefs  immediately  theirs,  he  cannot 
 expect  that  they  mould  perform  it  too,  nor  exact  any  !* 
 
 righteoufnefs  of  their  own.  For  this  would  be  to 
 demand  the  fame  debt  twice ;  and  to  call  for  the  pay- 
 ment of  a  bond ,  which  hath  been  already  fatisfie'd. 
 In  fine;  He  can  claim  nothing  as  his  due,  but  muft  be 
 content  with  that  which  they  will  give  him :  and  it  is 
 thought  the  fafeft  way  to  give  him  little  or  nothing, 
 left  they  mould  at  all  abate  of  the  freenefs  of  what  he  is 
 to  give. 
 
 I  hope  your  foul  will  never  enteT  into  this  fecrer, 
 nor  follow  the  rabble  in  thefe  groundlefs  fancies.  But 
 you  will  rather  put  to  your  hands  to  pull  down  that 
 Idol  of  Faith,  which  hath  been  fet  up  with  fo  much  de- 
 votion, and  Religioufly  worfhipped  fo  long  among  us : 
 That  dead  Image  of  Faith  which  fo  many  have 
 adored,  truftedin,  andperimed.  I  mean  the  notion 
 which  hath  been  fo  zealouily  advanced,  how  that  be- 
 lieving is  nothing  elfe,  but  a  relying  on  Je fks  for  falva- 
 tion  5   a  fiducial  recumbency  upon  him  ;   a  CAping  our 
 
 [elves 
 
^4  Tlx'P arable  of  the  Pilgrim? 
 
 (elves  wholly  upon  him  and  hit  merits ;  or  an  applying  of 
 his  righteoufnejs  to  our  fouls.  And  if  you  throw  all  thofe 
 other  phrales  after  them,  which  tell  us  that  it  isata- 
 k:ng  of  C. rift,  a  hying  htldoS.  him,  a  cUfng  with  him, 
 or  an  embracing  of  him  •,  you  lhill  do  the  becter,  and 
 more  certainly  lecure  your  felf  from  being  deceived. 
 
 For  as  to  thefe  latter  exprefilons  isjic  not  vifibleat 
 the  firft  naming  of  them,  that  they  areobfeure,  doubt- 
 ful and  metaphorical  words  <  Is  it  not  as  hard  to 
 know  what  it  is  to  take  him,  and  to  f/*/*  with  him,  as 
 it  is  to  underftand  what  it  is  to  Believe  I  Whatfoever 
 then  you  have  been  told  of  me,  I  doubt  not  but  you 
 will  find  that  I  direcl  you  in  a  plain  and  honed  path; 
 it  being  indeed  againft  my  nature  to  like  any  thing 
 which  is  intricate,  peiplexed,  andfomyfterious,  that 
 a  fimple  man  cannot  comprehend  it.  Who  is  there 
 that  doth  not  underftand  me  when  I  fay,  that  to  Be- 
 lieve is/0  heartily  to  give  your  affent  to  the  truth  of  the 
 Gofpelj  that  you  live  acctr ding  to  it?  What  word  is 
 there  of  all  thci'e  that  hath  a  dou  btful  meaning  i  or  if 
 ten  thoufand  men  (houldhear  them,  what  poftibility 
 is  there  that  among  them  all  there  (hould  be  found  (o 
 much  as  one  different  fenfe  about  them?  whereas 
 thofe  words,  To  take  Chrift,  to  embrace  him,  and  clofe 
 with  him,  are  of  fuch  dubious  Signification,  that  both 
 the  ad  and  the  object  (  as  we  uiually  fpeak  )  have  an 
 ambiguous  meaning.  There  are  feverai  ways  of 
 taking,  and  embracing :  and  by  chrift  is  fometimes 
 meant  his  perfon,  and  fometimes  hisGofpel,  or  Do- 
 ctrine. Now  if  to  Take,  be,  with  our  mind  and  heart, 
 to  allow,  approve,  aflentto  any  thing  $  then  to  take 
 chrift  in  the  firft  fenfe  of  that  word,  is  to  acknowledge 
 himforthcSonof  God  5  the  promifed  feed  which  he 
 
 faid 
 
The  f arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ,,  i 
 
 faid  fhould  be  fent  into  the  World :   And  to  take  him 
 in  the  other,  is  nothing  elfe  but  that  which  I  told  you ; 
 To  aflfent  in  fuch  manner  to  all  that  is  faid  of  him,    or 
 lie  hath  faid  in  the  Gofpel,    that  we  become  obedienc 
 to  his  word.    To  what  purpofe  then  is  it  to  ufe  thefe 
 phrafes,   when  there  are  better  at  hand  whereby  we 
 mud  explain  them  i   Since  this  mult  be  faid  which  I 
 have  told  you,  why  cannot  it  be  fud  at  firft  ?    When 
 things  can  be  clearly  expreflfed,    why  fliould  we  chafe 
 to  fpeak  them  darkly  i  e(j>ecially  fince  there  can  be  no 
 fruit  of  it  but  only  this,   that  men  are  longer  before 
 they  underftand  us ;    and  perhaps  at  the  firft  hearing 
 of  what  we  fpeak  obfeurely,  their  minds  are  imprefTed 
 with  fome  fuch  dangerous  fenfe  which  they  form  to 
 themfelves  $    that  all  our  explications  cannot  blot  ic 
 our.     It  is  of  great  moment,  what  mens  fouls  are  firft 
 imprinted  withal.     They  will  retain  chofe  words ; 
 and  perchance  think  good  to  make  the  expofition  ac- 
 cording to  their  own  fanfie.     Why  mould  not  our 
 words  therefore  carry  their  interpretation  in  them  '.    or 
 what  fhould  make  us  love  to  talk  in  fuch  terms,  that  we 
 cannot  be  certainly  apprehended  unlets  we  talk  a  great 
 deal  more  i 
 
 Of  thar,  faid  the  Traveller  (  who  was  defirous  to 
 know  all  he  could  in  this  matter )  I  would  willingly  be 
 informed  by  your  felf.  You  would  oblige  me  very 
 much  if  you  could  think  fit  to  refolve  your  own  que- 
 ftion.  For  truly  I  love  fo  dearly  to  underfhnd  what 
 I  hear  ( as  thanks  be  to  God  I  do  what  you  fay  )  that  I 
 wonder  any  men  fliould  go  to  feek  for  hard  words , 
 when  thofe  that  are  plain  do  thruft  themfelves  into  their 
 mouths. 
 
 U  I  meam 
 
14$  Tie  Parable  of  thefilgrm. 
 
 I  meant  not,  replied  the  Guide,  to  draw  my  difcourfe 
 to  this  inquiry,  but  only  toexprefs  to  you  by  thofe  que- 
 stions the  unreafonablenefs  of  fuch  mens  proceedings. 
 Yet  fince  it  is  your  defire,  and  I  am  not  willing  to  deny 
 you  any  thing,  you  (hall  know  what  I  conceive  in  this 
 matter,  provided  you  will  be  content  with  that  anfwer 
 which  lies  uppermost  in  my  thoughts,  and  offers  it  fclf 
 firft  to  my  mind. 
 
 They  are  not  in  love  I  am  apt  to  think  with  fuch  a 
 definition  of  Faith  as  I  have  given  you,  becaufe  it  is 
 Pilgrim- like,  plain  as  a  Pike  ftaflf.  It  is  in  this  cafe  as 
 in  many  other :  there  are  a  company  of  men  in  the 
 World  who  deipife  any  thing  which  they  underftand 
 eafilv,  an  :  imagine  there  is  no  great  matter  in  it,  if  k 
 be  prdently  in  elhgtble.  They  admire  that  moft 
 vhich  they  do  not  comprehend  ;  and  conceive 
 there  is  fome  my  tf  cry  and  depth  in  it,  if  it  be  difficult 
 to  be  explained.  J  ft  as  you  lee  abundance  of  men 
 atfed  hard  wordsj  nay,  bomiiaftick  language  and  a 
 fuftian  kind  of  dialed  •  though  there  be  no  greater 
 eloquence  than  to  ipeak  naturally  and  with  facility  of 
 exprtffion :  fo  there  are  as  many,  who  love  things 
 obfeurcly  delivered  and  which  have  a  cloud  about 
 them ;  though  it  be  the  perfection  of  our  under- 
 ftandings  to  render  our  conceptions  clear  and  eafie  to 
 enter  into  the  moft  vulgar  capacities.  As  they  think 
 frim  un  Orator  who  mounts  and  (oars  aloft  (as  they  call 
 it }  in  high-  flown  words ;  fo  they  take  him  for  a  deep 
 Divine  whofe  notions  of  things  arc  fo  exprcfled  as  they 
 cannot  prefently  found  and  dive  to  the  bottom  of 
 them.  Hence  it  is  that  they  contemn  fuch  a  familiar, 
 plain  and  facile  explication  of  the  word  Faith,  as  doth 
 »ot  intricate  a  mans  conceptions,  bur  can  at  firft  fight 
 
 be 
 
The  Parable  cfthe  filgr'm.  1 47 
 
 be  apprehended  *  and  they  had  rather  have  you  fpeak 
 of  it  in  Metaphorical  or  borrowed  words,  which,  be- 
 longing more  properly  to  other  things  tlian  they  do 
 to  this,  make  an  uncertain  found,  aiW  leave  the  mind 
 fa  confufion.  If  you  fay  that  it  is  a  Taking  of  Chrift, 
 oi*  whole  Chrift,  an  applying  of  what  he  hath  d«ne, 
 to  tfre  foul  >  a  cleaving  to  him,  or  in  fuch  like  words 
 exprei.syour  felf :  all  thefe  feem  to  have  more  of  myftc- 
 ry  and  GofpeJ  fecrets  in  them,  than  the  poor  Pilgrim- 
 phrafehach :  and  fo  they  win  more  credit  with  thofe 
 men  who  aire  not  wont  to  like  any  thing  which  every 
 child  may  understand  as  well  as  themielves.  Beiides 
 it  mult  be  confefled  that  fuch  words  as  thofe  do  not 
 touch  the  bottom  of  the  heart,  nor  fo  initantly  pene- 
 trate to  the  very  quick  as  the  other  plainly  do,  and  fo 
 they  muft  needs  be  better  accepted  in  the  World.  They 
 do  not  fonecdlarily  and  clearly  imply  mens  obedience 
 to  our  Lord,  which  in  this  that  I  mention  is  in  direct 
 terms  expreffed  5  and  Co  they  will  be  fuu 
 with  kinder  welcome  and  entertainment. 
 
 He  was  proceeding  to  addfome  other  words  rrich 
 to  the  fame  effect,  when  the  Pilgrim  begging  his  f 
 don  for  diverting  him  from  his  main  difcourfe,  c. 
 him  that  he  was  too  much  fatisfied  in  the  truth  of  what 
 he  faid,  and  defired  to  hear  no  m  re  of  this  folly  of 
 mankind.  But  what  think  you  (  added  he )  of  tho  e 
 other  defcriptions  of  Faith  which  teh  us  that  at  is  A 
 relying  upon  our  Saviour',  cannot  everybody  under- 
 ftand  this  language  as  well  as  that  which  vou  fpeak  i 
 I  grant  it,  anfw  ered  the  Director ;  but  if  it  be  not  ly- 
 ableto  the  firft  defect  which  I  objected,  it  is  notoa- 
 oufty  guilty  of  the  laft  and  worft.*  for  there  is  in  ic 
 Qoching  of  our  obedience.    As  the  former  wei e  faulty 
 
 Ut  ill  > 
 
!  ^  g  TTta  Parable  of  t be  Pilgrim*. 
 
 in  regard  of  their  obfcurity,  fo  this  is  manifestly 
 chargeable  wich  lamenefs  and  imperfection.  You  matt 
 be  convinced  of  the  truth  of  this  imputation  in  a  very 
 few  words.     For  firft>  the  moft  that  can  be  made  of 
 this  reliance  on  thrift  for  Salvation  is,  that  it  is  one 
 a&of  Faith  5  bat  there  wants  a  great  number  more  to- 
 make  up  an  intire  body  of  Christian  belief.     And  fe- 
 tondly,  as  it  is  but  one  fingle  act,  fo  it  is  far  fronybeing 
 thefirft,  but  mull  fuppofe  many  others  that  go  before 
 it.     As  for  exam  pie,   it  is  neceffary  we  be  perlwaded 
 that  Jefusis  ihzChrijiofGod,  that  what  hg  hith  fpo- 
 ken  in  the  Gofptlis  his  will,  and  rhat  if  we  hops  for 
 falvation  by  him  we  mull  be  conformed  in  all  things  to 
 this  will  of  God.    And  then  thirdly,  thefe  perfwaiions 
 or  acls  of  Faith  that  thus  precede,  muft  produce  a 
 lincere  and  cordial  obedience  to  his  Laws,  before  we 
 can  reafonably  arrive  at  this  confidence  of  relying 
 upon  him  for  falvation.    Now  why  this  particular  a<5fc 
 of  Faith  mould  be  alone  mentioned  in  the  definition 
 of  it,  which  is  but  one  and  not  the  fir  ft,,  nor  chief,  and- 
 all  the  reft  left  out  5  is  part  my  capacicy  to  understand. 
 When  our  Faith  hath  rendred  us  obedient  to  him , 
 then  we  may  take  the  boldnefs  to  perfwade  our  felves 
 that  he  will  fave  us :  and  this  is  nothing  but  an  obe- 
 dience to  his  command  alfo,  who-bathbid  ustruft  him 
 and  take  his  word  that  he  will  be  the  Saviour  of  all. 
 faithful  perfons.    But  it  is   a  preemption  to  do  it. 
 fooner,  and  the  ready  courfe  to  deftroy  the  Religion  of 
 Chrift  to  advance  fuch  an  hafty  and  forward  belief  in, 
 mensfouls. 
 
 And  therefore  let  me  befeech  you  as  youlove  your 
 (bulto  be  afolbwerof  faithful  Abraham,  who  (  as  I 
 ioldyou  )  was  the  Foinder  of  your  Order.    Remem- 
 ber 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrhru  \  4  9 
 
 her  that  fuch  as  he  was,  .fuch  muft  you  be  if  you  hope 
 to  cometo  Jerufalemfmd  inherit  the  Land  of  Promiic. 
 and  that  in  his  example  you  meet  with  nothing  earlier 
 than  tins,  that  by  Faith, when  he  w,ts  called  to  go  out  into 
 a  place  which  hejbould  after  receive  for  an  inheritance, 
 he  obeyed,  and  went  out,  not  knowing  whither  he  went. 
 This  was  the  fir  ft  thing  wherein  his  Faith  imployed  ic 
 fclf,  and  the  laft  was  like  unto  it :  For  when  lie  was 
 tried  by  God  he  offered  up  his  only  begotten  Son  who 
 was  to  be  the  heir  of  that  inheritance  which  was  pro- 
 mifedtohim.  From  this  active  Faith  no  doubt  it  is 
 that  he  and  all  good  Chriftians  are  called  Faithful,  and 
 not  from  a  lazy  recumbency  on  Chrift  for  Salvation  ; 
 Of  the  ftrongeit  application  of  his  merits  to  their  fouls. 
 If  thefe  were  fufficient  to  make  a  perfon  of  that  deno- 
 mination ;  then  we  need  no  better  character  of  a  faith- 
 ful ferv ant  or  fteward  (  which  the  holy  Writings  fome- 
 times mention)  than  fuch  an  one  as  follows.  He  is  a 
 perfon  that  relies  upon  his  Matters  merits ;  and  de- 
 pends only  on  the  worth  and  fufficiency  of  his  Lorcu 
 He  truftsin  his  goodnefs  for  a  pardon  of  all  his  faults, 
 and  hopes  he  will  efteem  him  a  good  fervant  becaufc 
 he  is  a  good  Matter.  He  leans  upon  his  arm,  and  clafps. 
 faft  about  him,  and  is  re folved  not  to  let  him  go  till  he 
 have  paid  him  his  wages.  He  embraces  him  kindly* 
 and  hopes  he  will  account  him  righteous  becaufe  he  is 
 fohimfelf.  And  in  one  word,  He  applies  to  himfelf 
 all  the  good  Works  that  his  Matter  hath  performed  ; 
 and  prays  to  be  excufed  if  he  do  not  hisbulinefs,  be- 
 caufe that  his  Lord  can  do  it  better.  Is"  not  this  a  very 
 ridiculous  cefcriptionc*  or  would  you, be  content  to 
 be  thusferved?  Do  not  imagine  then  that  God  \wlL 
 be  ferved  after  this  famion  •,  or  that  fuch  an  ill  fa- 
 voured ^notion  as  this,  is  the  beft  that  can  be  found  to 
 
 com* 
 
,*$  TbefanbleoftheTilgriml 
 
 cowpofe  the  definition  of  a  true  Believer.  But  firft  do 
 all  that  you  can,  and  then  acknowledge  your  felf  an  un- 
 profitable fervant.  Let  it  be  your  care  to  follow  your 
 wotk,and  then  rely  only  upon  the  goodnefs  of  our  Lord 
 to  give  you  a  reward.  Be  fure  that  you  be  inwardly  righ- 
 teous, and  then  no  doubt  the  righteoufnefs  of  Chrift 
 will  procure  acceprance,and  bring  you  to  that  happinefs 
 which  you  can  no  waysdeferve. 
 
 CHAP.    XVII. 
 
 WhAtfhu  Prayer,  Hearing  tf  sermons,  Reading  of 
 Good  Books,  Receiving  the  Sacrament,  have  in  the 
 Religion  ^Jefus.  And  of  what  mfe  they  are  to  t& 
 grims. 
 
 AN  D  chat  yon  may  be  able  to  make  a  better 
 judgement  of  what  I  have  faid,  and  I  may  alfo 
 return  to  the  occafion  and  beginning  of  this  difcourfe, 
 let  me  intreat  you  to  confider  well  the  nature  and  ends 
 of  Prayer  to  God.  It  is  manifeft  from  the  life  of  Jr/ar 
 that  it  is  but  a  part  of  that  duty  and  obedience  that 
 we  owe  to  God,  and  yet  it  is  a  powerful  means  to  bring 
 us  to  all  the  reft.  It  is  the  converting  and  turning 
 about  of  our  minds  and  hearts  to  the  original  of  our 
 Being.  It  is  our  reflecting  and  looking  back  upon 
 him  from  whom  we  came.  It  is  our  circling  and 
 winding  about  (as  Heathens  themfelves  have  well 
 conceived)  to  that  point  from  which  we  took  our  be- 
 ginning, that  we  may  be  faft  united  to  God  and  never 
 be  divided  from  him.  It  is  an  acknowledgment  of 
 God  in  all  his  perfections:  An  expreffion  of  our  dc- 
 peadance  and  fubjc&ion  :  An  oblation  of  our  felves, 
 
 both 
 
Tbtfarable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 both  foal  and  body  to  him.  Think  therefore  to  what 
 purpofes  ic  moft  naturally  ferves:  for  it  being  a  thing 
 of  daily  ufe,  you  may  judge  thereby  what  the  grew: 
 bufinefsofChriftianity  or  Believing  is.  Doth  it  mi- 
 nifter  chiefly  to  our  confidence  of  being  laved ;  and 
 are  we  to  fwell  our  felvts  by  this  breath  with  great 
 hopes  that  we  are  beloved  of  God  <  Or  rather  is  it  not 
 moft  properly  fubfervient  to  the  putting  of  us  into  a 
 ftateof  Salvation,  and  the  rendring  us  fit  objects  of  the 
 Divine  Love  i  It  is  not  intended  to  infpire  us  with  con- 
 ceits that  we  are  the  children  of  God  >  but  to  breath 
 into  us  the  fpirit  of  fons,  and  to  imprefs  upon  us  the 
 image  of  him  upon  whom  we  fix  our  eyes.  It  is  the 
 elevation  of  our  minds  to  him,  and  the  fa  fining  of  our 
 eyes  upon  him,  in  order  to  our  being  made  more  like 
 him.  It  is  the  oblation  of  our  felves  to  his  ufes  and 
 fervice,  aud  not  a  giving  of  our  felves  to  be  faved  by 
 him.  Here  we  place  our  minds  in  the  brightnefs  of 
 his  heavenly  light.  Here  we  expofe  our  cold  affecti- 
 ons to  the  warmth  and  heat  of  the  Sun  of  righteouf- 
 nefs.  We  behold  our  Lord  moft  clearly  in  thefe  de- 
 vout Meditations  5  and  by  the  frequency  of  them,  we 
 fhall  learn  his  carriage  and  geftures,  and  conform  all 
 ©ur  actions  to  the  excellent  model  of  his.  I  befeech 
 you  defcend  into  your  own  heart,  and  if  you  know 
 what  it  is  to  pray,  tell  me  what  Frith  it  is  which  you 
 feel  then  moft  ftirringin  your  tear  u  Is  ir  only  a  re- 
 liance on  Chrift,  and  an  application  of  his  merits  to 
 your  foul  <  Or  is  it  not  rather  a  vigorous  application 
 of  your  mind  to  him,  that  you  may  feel  him  more,  be- 
 getting and  promoting  his  life  in  your  heart  f  Is  i*  not 
 a  ftrong  defire  to  be  touched  by  him,  to  be  imprefled 
 with  his  likenefs,  to  be  joyned  to  him  and  made  one 
 fpirit  with  him  i  and  in  one  word,  jhat  you  may  be 
 
 made 
 
 IJi 
 
 n 
 
 i 
 
£|  Tk  Parable  ofth  Vilgrhn'. 
 
 made  more  ready  and  difpofed  to  every  good  \vork  ?  I 
 will  evidently  convince  you  that  this  is  the  great  end 
 of Prayer  ;and  confequently/he  main  work  of  believing 
 en  the  Son^f  God. 
 
 We  are,  you  know,  of  kin  to  two  Wor.lds,  and 
 placed  in  the  middle  between  Heaven  and  Earth.  With 
 •our  Heads  we  touch  the  one,and  with  our  Feet  we  ftand 
 upon  the  other.  Man  is  the  common  term  wherein 
 thefe  two  meet  and  are  combined.  By  his  fuperiour  fa- 
 culties he  holds  communion  with  the  inward  and  fpiri- 
 tual  World,  and  by  his  lower  he  feels  the  outward  and 
 corporeal.  But  there  is  a  great  difference  between  the 
 correfpondence  which  we  hold  with  the  one ,  aod 
 that  which  we  maintain  with  the  other.  For  to  this 
 fenfible  World  we  lie  open  and  bare,  but  between  us 
 and  the  invifible  World  there  is  a  grofs  cloud  and  vail 
 of  flefh  which  interpofes.  Ortofpeakmore  plainly, 
 Our  fenfes  have  nothing  that  comes  between  them  and 
 their  objects  to  hinder  their  free  approach  to  them  ; 
 whereas  our  undemanding  hath  thofe  very  objects 
 wherewith  they  are  prepofleiTed,  to  interrupt  the  light 
 of  Cceleftial  things  which  (bine  upon  it.  The  out- 
 ward man  is  continually  expofed  to  the  ftrokes  of  the 
 things  of  this  outward  World,  and  without  any  diffi- 
 culty or  pains  is  moved  by  them:  but  our  Mind  doth 
 not  lie  fo  naked  and  open  to  the  things  of  the  other, 
 nor  is  our  Will  fo  ea/ily  inclined  by  them.  For  they 
 being  already  imprciled  and  engaged  by  fenfible  Ob- 
 jects, thefe  lie  between  us  and  the  higher  Regions  ; 
 and  they  having  enjoyed  a  long  familiarity  with  them 
 before  we  received  notice  of  anything  el  "e  befide,  it 
 will  require  fome  labour  to  bring  us  and  thofe  Nobler 
 Objects  together.  In  fhorr,  the  fenfes  have  nothing  elfe 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  , , , 
 
 to  do,  but  only  to  receive  thofe  things  which  prefent 
 themfelves  before  them,   nor  are  they  iolicited  by  any 
 other  enjoyments :  But  our  minds  and  wills  are  haled 
 two  ways,    and  foiiciced  by  this  World  as  well  as  by 
 the  other  5    fo  that  to  perceive  that  which  is  Divine, 
 we  muft  remove  this  out  of  the  way,  and  pull  our  fouls 
 from  thofe  thoughts  and  defires  wherein  thefe  lower 
 things  have  intangltd  our  hearts.     Unlefs  our  Under- 
 standing draw  her  felf  afidc  to  the  contemplation  of 
 Divine  Truths,  and  thereby  carry  the  Will  to  the  tafte 
 of  an  higher  Good,   it  cannot  be  avoided  but  thac  we 
 become  meer  men  of  this  World,  and  by  being  vholly 
 carnal,  lo(e  our  acquaintance  with  the  other  ccelcftial 
 Country.     We  fliall  be  altogether  fraught  with  flcflily 
 opinions  and  affections,    and  have  nothing  remaining 
 in  us  of  a  fpiritual  fenfe.    This  therefore  breeds  an  ab- 
 folute  neceifity  of  conftant  holy  Meditation^    and  de- 
 vout Prayers.     By  the  one  of  which  our  mind  being 
 abftra&ed  from,    and  elevated   beyond    things   of 
 corporeal  fenfe,   is  brought  to  a  converfe  and  familia- 
 rity with  heavenly  motions :  and  by  the  other  our  Will 
 ispoffeffed  with  fpiritual  inclinations  $    nay,  rawfhed 
 into  the  embraces  of  a  Divine  Good.    Meditation  fur- 
 nifhes  our  Understanding  wirh  right  opinions,    and 
 noble  thoughts:  and  Prayer  carries  our  Will  to  the 
 .love  of  them,    and  joyns  our  affections  fart  unto  them. 
 By  the  one  we  are  tyed  inourmind,  and  by  the  other 
 in  our  choice  to  the  better  World.     Tnis,  it  is  mani- 
 fest, is  the  natural  and  true  ufe  of  thefe  devout  cxer- 
 cifes ;  to  difpofe  our  fouls  by  drawing  them  away  from 
 thefe  inferiour  injoyments,  to  receive  communications 
 from  above,  and  to  be  made  partakers  of  a  Divine  Na- 
 ture.    There  is  no  queftion  to  be  made  of  it,    that 
 God  loves  to  impart  himfelf  to  rational  Beings :    But 
 X  in 
 
i  ^  4  ^  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim, 
 
 in  what  manner,  I  befeech  you,  can  he  do  it,  unlcfs  it 
 be  by  our  Understandings  and  Wills  rightly  difpofcd  < 
 And  what  other  end  therefore  can  thefe  two  have 
 which  put  us  in  a  fit  difpofition  and  capacity  for  him  •, 
 than  to  bring  us  to  that  true  knowledge  and  love  of  him, 
 whereby  we  partake  of  his  nature.  In  thefe  you  muft 
 employ  your  felf,  and  they  are  to  be  thought  more  ne- 
 ceffary  than  any  other  bufinefs;  but  yet  you  fee  they 
 are  but  the  means  and  way  to  a  Divine  State,  and  have 
 fomerhing  beyond  themfelves  which  they  are  to  effect : 
 and  that  is  the  bringing  of  us  to  the  life  of  the  blefled 
 Jefus. 
 
 If  prayer  be  not  thus  defigned,  and  do  not  produce 
 fuch  fruit,  it  is  fo  far  from  procuring  us  acceptance 
 with  God  (^though  it  be  top  full  of  th.u  Faith  which  re- 
 lyes  upon  Chrift)  that  it  proves  a  thing  very  fulfom  and 
 difpleafing  unto  him.  It  is  a  meer  noife  and  clamour 
 in  his  ears,  than  which  there  cannot  be  any  thing  more 
 troublefome  and  offenfive.  He  loves  not  to  be  di- 
 fturbed  with  fuch  founds  as  have  nothing  in  them , 
 but  flattery  and  naufeous  commendations  of  him.  He 
 cares  not  for  being  extolled  by  iuch  unhallowed 
 mouths.  It  is  a  great  injury  to  him  to  be  praifed  and 
 magnified  by  evildoers.  He  hates  the  pretences  of 
 their  Friendlhip,  and  loaths  the  complements  which 
 they  load  him  withal.  He  cannot  indure  to  have  his 
 Courts  filled  with  thefe  impudent  people ;left  he  fliould 
 be  thought  fuch  an  one  as  thcmfelves.  As  the  Sacri- 
 fices of  old  were  eftcemed  no  better  than  Murders,  and 
 all  the  offerings  but  fo  many  butcheries  which  were 
 committed,  when  the  Sacrifices  left  themfeives 
 behind,  and  brought  not  their  hearts  and  affections  to 
 be  cfTeied  up  to  God:    So  are  all  mens  confident 
 
 Prayers 
 
The  farahle  of  the  Tilgrim.  ,  ^ 
 
 Prayers  and  Devotions  now,  no  better  than  propha- 
 nations  of  his  Name,  andakindofblafphemy,  orevil- 
 fpeaking  of  him  -y  while  they  are  enemies  to  the  Life 
 of  God,  and  defpifers  of  good  works.  They  do  moil 
 bafely  reproach  him  in  the  world  ,  by  taking  upon 
 them  the  title  of  his  greateft  Favourites.  They  ex- 
 pofe  him  to  fcorn,  by  appropriating  to  themfelves  the 
 name  of  his  fervams.  There  cannot  be  a  greater 
 wrong  to  him,  than  to  make  men  believe,  that  he  is 
 a  lover  of  fuch  filthy  Hypocrites.  You  have  obferved, 
 no  doubt,  that  the  Sacrifices  in  ancienc  times  were 
 called  the  Meat  ef  God,  and  the  iW  or  provifion  that 
 was  made  for  his  Houfe.  And  yet  in  the  company  of 
 evil  works  they  are  faid  to  be  an  Abomination  to  him  ; 
 and  he  profeiles  that  he  had  as  lief  they  rud  broug  it 
 him  a  Dog,  as  offer  a  Lamb ;  and  chat  a  Sv^ine  would 
 have  been  as  acceptable  as  the  fatceft  of  their  Bullocks. 
 He  protefts  that  his  foul  abhorred  their  New  Moons, 
 and  lolemn  Aflemblies :  that  their  lncenfe  was  an  un- 
 favoury  ftink,  and  that  the  Fat  and  Blood  of  their 
 Bealts,  v\  ere  no  better  chan  their  Dung  and  Oidure. 
 He  bids  them  bring  him  no  more  vain  oblations.  He 
 faith,  that  he  was  full  of  them,  and  naufeated  the  Table 
 that  they  fprcad  for  him.  And  in  plain  terms  he  lets 
 them  know  that  it  was  to  no  purpofe  to  multiply  their 
 Prayers,  for  he  could  not  hear  them.  And  fo  truly 
 may  you  allure  your  felf,  that  though  pious  Prayers 
 are  now  moft  prevalent  and  forcible  with  him,  yet  the 
 grunting  of  Swine,  or  howling  of  Wolves  are  al- 
 together as  welcome,  as  the  clamorous  Petitions  of 
 thole  who  fue  for  his  Love ,  without  any  thorow 
 amendment  of  their  lives.  He  detefts  thoie  bawling 
 worfhippers,  who  intend  nothing  elfe  but  to  drown 
 the  cry  of  their  fins,  and  to  make  him  deaf  to  tl  c 
 X  2  accufatiois 
 
i « 6  T7;e  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 accufations  which  their  iniquity  brings  againft  themv 
 Their  breath  is  an  unwholelome  and  infectious  vapour, 
 which  poifons  the  World,  and  is  the  Pert  of  Religion. 
 Their  meetings  and  afiemblies  are  fo  many  conlpira- 
 cies  againft  the  Authority  and  Life  of  God.  Their 
 words  do  but  wound  his  ears,  and  their  loud  cries  are 
 but  fo  many  aflaults  and  batteries  againft  Heaven.  He 
 hates  to  fee  thofe  hands  lifted  up  unto  him,  which 
 will  inftantly  be  lifted  up  againft  him  He  cannot 
 indure  they  mould  lay  hold  on  him ;  and  efteems  fuch 
 rude  attempts  to  be  the  committing  of  a  rape  upon  his 
 mercy,  and  an  endeavour  to  force  his  favou :.  He  hath 
 opened  no  way  for  fuch  bold  accefs  unto  him.  He  ne- 
 ver intended  taincourage  fuch  impudence.  Their  zeal 
 is  a  ftrange  fire  which  kindles  another  in  Heaven 
 againft  them.  And  notwithftanding  all  their  fawn- 
 ings  upon  him,  the  Dogs  which  follow  them  to  the 
 place  of  their  afiemblies,  (hall  asfoon  be  accepted  as 
 them'elves.  And  therefore  be  fure  to  make  your 
 Prayers  touch  your  own  heart,  before  you  expect  they 
 fhould  reach  Heaven.  Let  them  work  upon  your  felf, 
 before  you  afTume  a  confidence  that  they  will  have  the 
 defired  efTeft  upon  God. 
 
 And  now  I  have  little  to  fay  concerning  the  hearing 
 ofSermons,r<-^//zg  of  the  Bible,  and  other  good  Books 
 (  which  you  fay  there  are  many  think  do  compofe  the 
 whole  of  a  Religious  life)  for  it  is  plain  enough  they 
 can  have  no  other  end  than  to  furniihyour  mind  with 
 pious  Meditations,  and  difpofeyour  will  to  Prayer, 
 afld  all  other  holy  duties.  You  cannot  well  think  that 
 thefe  have  any  other  place  in  the  godly  life,  than  that 
 of  Inftruments  and  Helps  whereby  to  arrive  at  it.  And 
 it  is  very  eafie  to  know  from  what  hath  been  difcour- 
 
 fed, 
 
V)e  Parable  oftL  Pilgrim.  1$7 
 
 fed)  what  Sermons  are  mofr.  to-be  regarded.  Not  thofe 
 which  give  your  fancy  a  pleature,  and  tickle  your  ima- 
 gination :  but  chofe  which  powerfully  enlighten  your 
 underftanding,  and  move  your  will  to  the  choice  of 
 that  which  is  right  and  Good.  There  are  too  many 
 of  thofe  frivolous  Hearers,  who  are  more  pleafed  with 
 little  gingles,  and  the  tinkling  of  words,  than  with 
 the  moftperfwaiive  arguments  which  the  molt  piercing 
 reafon  in  the  world  can  urge  upon  their  hearts.  Buc 
 their  punimment  is  heavy  enough  for  their  levity }  they 
 being  condemned  for  ever  to  be  fools  or  children , 
 whofe  minds  are  inchanted  with  the  R aiming  of  words, 
 Or  with  their  countermarching  and  the  ringing  of 
 changes  upen  them,or  other  fuch  like  adulterate  Ware, 
 which  would  fain  pifs  for  wit  and  elegance.  Next  to 
 the  love  of  Gibbenfh,  and  of  canting  phrafes,  there 
 is  no  greater  dotage  than  this,  of  courting  the  difeafes, 
 corruptions,  and  the  rotten  carkafe  of  eloquence,  and 
 flighting  the  life  and  fpirit  of  it.  One  would  wonder 
 that  reasonable  Souls  ihould  delight  in  toying  and 
 playing  with  letters  and  fyllables.  There  is  nothing 
 more  ftrange  unlefs  it  be  this ;  that  there  are  a  company 
 of  men  to  be  found  who  are  at  a  great  deal  of  pains  to 
 trim  themfelves  with  thefe  tinfel  ornaments,  and  with 
 much  curiofity  ftudy  to  fpeak  abfurdly.  It  is  not  their 
 negligence,  but  they  take  a  care  to  trifle.  They  do 
 not  flip  unawares  into  childiih  expreflions,  but  they 
 fall  into  them  by  defign. 
 
 But  if  you  would  be  wife  and  good,  you  muft  open 
 your  ears  to  plain  words,  and  ftrong  fenfe  j  to  proper 
 and  fignificant  language,  which  brings  along  with  ic 
 powerful  and  convincing  arguments ,  to  that  which 
 flrikes  and  penetrates  into  the  foul ,   and  doth  not 
 
 meerly 
 
I  j8  The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 mecrly  glide  fmoothly  over  the  furface  of  it.  You 
 muft  not  come  to  be  tickled,  but  to  be  taught ;  not  to 
 be  pleafed,  but  to  be  made  better  5  not  that  a  man  may 
 fpeak  to  your  gufl,  but  to  your  neceflities.  You  mu(l 
 not  think  you  have  fpent  your  time  well  when  the 
 Truth  peeps  into  your  foul,  but  flops  at  the  door ;  or 
 when  your  will  is  (lightly  moved,  and  then  (lands 
 ftill :  but  when  the  light  pierces  into  your  mind,  and 
 makes  a  broad  day  there ;  when  a  fecret  fire  creeps  in- 
 to your  veins,  and  continues  to  bum  in  your  heart ; 
 when  all  your  affe&ions  are  carried  away,  and  remain 
 in  the  poifeflion  of  Truth. 
 
 And  for  this  purpofe  you  muft  read  the  Holy  Scri- 
 ptures thcmfelves,  not  to  (lore  your  mind  with  high 
 notions,or  toreplenifli  it  with  alarge  furniturc,and  mat- 
 ter ofdifcourfe,  or  to  find  fupport  for  fome  of  your  opi- 
 nions ,•  but  to  get  a  (lock  of  efficacious  reafons  for  well- 
 doing, and  to  over-power  your  heart  by  the  force  of 
 them  to  confent  unto  it. 
 
 And  let  this  be  your  Rule  alfo  in  reading  other  pi- 
 ous Books:  For  there  are  too  many  who  regard  only 
 the  lighted  things  in  any  difcourfe :  the  fringes,  the 
 lace,  and  other  ornaments,  more  than  they  do  the  bo- 
 dy it  felf.  They  note  the  pretty  (lories,  the  apt  fimi- 
 litudes,  and  here  and  there  a  fmall  fentcnce  which 
 fmites  their  fancy  5  but  mind  not  the  clear  reafons,  the 
 nervous  arguments,  and  much  lefs  the  whole  fcope  and 
 defign  of  the  Treatife  which  they  read.  Much  like 
 fome  Writers  we  have  feen,  who  reporting  the  Hifto- 
 ry  of  their  times,  take  notice  of  little  more  than  of 
 Juflings  and  Tornaments,  of  Bear-baitings,  and  lanch- 
 ing  of  Ships,  and  fuch  like  frivolous  matters  which  are 
 
 of 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  \  5  p 
 
 of  no  moment.  Or  Jikethofe  Beggars,  who  travelling 
 many  Couatfies,  behold  a  great  number  of  fair  build- 
 ings: but  know  nothing  either  of  the  peifons  or  the  fur- 
 niture, or  .the  order  and  regular  form  which  is  to  be  ob- 
 fervedinthem. 
 
 I  think  it  is  not  amifs  to  add  that  this  likewife  is 
 the  end  you  ought  to  propound  to  your  felfin  all  your 
 conferences  with  wife  and  pious  fouls,  who  may  give 
 you  great  affiftance  in  your  journey  to  Jerufalem.  Not 
 to  breed  in  your  (elf  an  opinion  that  you  are  Religious, 
 becaufe  you  frequent  their  company  ;  but  to  receive 
 greater  illumination  of  mind  from  their  torches,  and 
 to  have  your  heart  warmed  with  a  greater  love  to  God 
 at  their  holy  Fires. 
 
 And  here  it  will  be  feafonable  at  the  condufion  of 
 thisdifcourfe,  to  admonifli  you  of  a  thing  which  may 
 do  you  very  much  fervice,  and  fave  you  abundance 
 of  trouble  which  elfe  may  arife  in  your  mind.  There 
 are  many  things,  as  you  fee,  that  will  further  you  in 
 well-doing,  viz.  Prayers,  Reading  and  Hearing  the 
 Word  of  God  •  Meditation,Confercnce  with  good  men, 
 and  fuch  like ;  fome  of  thefe,  you  muft  undcrfhnd,  will 
 terve  your  purpofe  at  one  tixe,  and  fome  at  another, 
 according  as  you  are  difpofed,  and  they  (hall  be  found 
 efficacious  for  the  end  to  which  they  are  defigned. 
 There  is  a  great  variety  alfo  in  thefe,  of  which  you 
 may  make  an  advantage,  if  you  chufe  that  ufe  and 
 practice  of  them  which  you  fhall  find  to  have  raoft 
 power  in  it  at  the  prefent ,  to  withdraw  your  mind 
 from  worldly  vanities  ,  to  mornfie  your  paffions, 
 and  to  eftablilh  your  will  in  the  Love  of  Jefus.  As 
 for  inftance  ;  fometimesit  will  be  fit  for  you  to  Medi- 
 tate, 
 
l($0  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrirn. 
 
 r.ate,ind  fometimesto  pr^and  fometimes  to  Converp 
 with  your  friends :  and  it  is  not  fo  much  as  to  be  askt, 
 which  ofthefe  you  (hall  chufe,  as  which  of  them  will 
 beft  at  that  inftanc  advance  you  in  your  way ,  and 
 move  your  will  with  the  greatcft  force  to  virtuous 
 a&ions.  Andtheninj/^/f/*?/^,  there  is  the  Life  of 
 Chrift  and  his  Death ;  his  Refurreftion  and  his  Glory; 
 his  Coming  again  to  Judgement ;  and  the  Life  of  the 
 World  to  come  ;  the  long  Experience  you  have  had 
 of  his  Goodnefs$  thelnftances  which  he  daily  gives 
 of  his  Providence-  the  Example  of  all  his  Saints;  and 
 an  hundred  things  befides  to  exercife  your  thoughts ; 
 and  have  a  great  virtue  in  them  to  make  you  do  your 
 duty  toward  God  and  Man.  In  like  manner  there 
 are  fundry  Books,  in  the  reading  of  which  you  may 
 imploy  your  time  ( though  I  would  rather  have  you 
 chufe  the  beft,  than  a  multitude )  and  feveral  ways  of 
 praying  and  addreflfing  your  Petitions  to  God,  which 
 may  every  one  of  them  have  their  places  and  feafons 
 according  as  you  fhall  be  difpofed  to  ferve  your  foul 
 of  them.  And  therefore  if  you  perceive  that  fome 
 of  them  through  cuftom  and  long  ufe  do  in  time  lofe 
 their  Savour  and  their  Power  to  increafe  the  Love  of 
 God  in  you,  and  it  feems  to  you  there  may  be  more 
 profit  in  another  way :  take  that  new  courfe,  and  leave 
 the  former  without  any  fcruple.  For  that  Meditation 
 which  will  not  now  affect  you,  at  another  time  will 
 prove  more  efficatious  than  any  elfe  ;  and  that  way  of 
 opening  your  foul  to  God,  which  now  you  forfake, 
 will  come  about  again  to  be  in  ufe.  Only  of  this 
 you  muft  take  a  great  care,  to  ftir  up  your  felf  to  a 
 continual  attendance  upon  the  Publick  Service  of 
 God.  For  that  is  a  necefiary  acknowledgement  of  his 
 Suprcam  Authority  and  Dominion  in  the  World :  and 
 
 though 
 
The  Parable  -of  the  <Pilgmi.  ^ 
 
 though  you  feel  your  fclfindifpofcd,  dull  and  heivy 
 at  certain  times  in  thefe  addreffes,   yet  there  is  this 
 good  always  done;   that  by  your  very  prefence  there 
 you  have  paid  part  of  your  homage  to  him,  have  owned 
 him  to  be  your  Lord  and  Governour,   and  confefled 
 that  he  is  worthy  of  all  Honour  and  Service.     But,  as 
 fcr  the  reft,  though  the  inclination  and  refolurion  of  ' 
 your  heart  to  love  Jefus^  and  to  be  like  to  him,  muft  be 
 unchangeable ;  nevcrthelefs  the  ways  and  means  which 
 are  to  be  imployed  to  the  nouriOiing  and  ftrengtheninor 
 of  your  refolution,  may  and  ought  to  be  changed,  ac- 
 cording as  you  feel  your  felf  difpofed,  and  find  them  to 
 bceffcftual. 
 
 But  efpecially  let  me  remember  you  of  this  Advice 
 which  was  long  (ince  given  me  by  a  g~>od  man,    Nor 
 
 TO   BIND    YOUR    SELF    UNALTERABLY    TO    VOLUNTARY 
 
 Customs.  Since  thefe  are  impofed  upon  us  by  our 
 felves,  we  may  grant  our  felves  a  releafe  when  we 
 fee  it  moft  convenient,  and  not  tie  our  felves  unto 
 them,  as  if  there  were  an  indifpenfable  obligation  ly- 
 ing upon  our  Confcience.  The  rigorous  obfervance  Of 
 thefe,  doth  always  hinder  the  freedom  of  the  hearn 
 in  the  Love  of  Jefus,  when  a  better  courfe  to  promote 
 us  in  it  doth  prefent  it  felf  to  our  choice.  And  there- 
 fore do  not  think  there  is  any  neceflity  that  you  mould 
 always  pray  in  the  fame  way,  or  pray  fo  long,  or 
 read  fo  many  Chapters  in  a  day,  or  ftudy  fuch  a  Book 
 whereby  you  have  reaped  much  benefit, .  or  think  eve- 
 ry day  of  the  very  fame  things }  but  you  are  at  liber- 
 ty to  do  in  thefe  matters  as  (hall  moft  conduce  to  the 
 ends-for  which  they  ferve,  and  that  is,  The  quickning 
 of  you  to  live  agreeably  to  the  Rules  of  Sobriety  y 
 lvghtcoufnei  and  Godlinek.  Be  not  timorous  and 
 Y  fearful 
 
1 6 1  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 fearful  of  ftepping  afideout  of  your  ordinary  courfe, 
 when  you  only  leave  what  you  hive  bound  upon  your 
 fclf  by  your  own  will  and  go  to  do  the  Will  of  God. 
 If  we  can  do  well,  what  matter  is  it,  though  it  be  not 
 in  the  form  that  we  have  prefcribed  i   If  our  bufinefs 
 be  effected,  why  fliould  we  trouble  our  heads  becaufe  ic 
 was  not  done  in  the  order  and  method  that  we  appoin- 
 ted i    Is  it  not  a  madnefs  to  deny  our  felves  a  natural 
 happinefs,   becaufe  we  cannot  have  it  accordingto 
 the  precepts  of  Art?  It  is  juftas  if  a  man  would  not 
 fpeak  nor  hear  Reafon,    unlefs  it  be  in  mode  and  fi- 
 gure ;   or  as  if  a  man  would  not  be  faved  from  drown- 
 i  g  unlefs  a  friend  would  bring  a  Boat  to  fetch  him  out 
 of  the  Water :  or  as  if  a  captive  Prince  fliould  refufe  to 
 facisfie  his  hunger,  unlefs  all  his  fervants  and  atten- 
 dants were  admitted  to  wait  upon  him.     What  a  fot- 
 tifh  obftinacy  is  this,    thus  to  adhere  to  our  Rules  i 
 W  hat  a  rigorous  Juftice  is  it,   that  makes  us  unjuft  to 
 our  felves  ?  What  fhould  we  do  with  this  fcrupulous 
 Piety,  which  claps  fetters  and  bolts  upon  our  own  legs  f 
 We  fliould  wonder  if  a  man,  to  obferve  fome  unnecef- 
 fary  terms  of  Law  fliould  fuffer  all  Laws  to  perifli ;  and 
 it  is  no  lefs  ftrange  if  to  maintain  fome  free  impofiti- 
 ons,   we  fuftain  a  lofs  in  themofl:  necefTiry  improve- 
 ments of  our  fouls.     This  extream  right  is  an  extream 
 injury.     It  woulcj  be  an  offence  againft  reafon,    not  to 
 ©ffend  here  againft  a  form.     And  we  fliould  very  much 
 depart  from  God,    if  we  did  not  here  depart  a  little 
 
 from  our  felves. 
 I 
 
 To  this  let  me  add  another  thing,  which  it  will  be 
 profitable  to  you  to  be  advifed  of ;  which  is,  that 
 when  you  are  following  Jeftu  in  a  els  of  JuftiCc  or 
 Charity,  or  any  of  the  reft,  yjujdo  a?  ft  oigly  attract 
 
 and 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Tilgrmu 
 and  draw  down  the  blefling  of  Heaven  upon  you,    as 
 by  the  bcft  devotions  which  you  perform  upon  your 
 knees.     You  do  not  think,    I  believe,  that  they  are 
 the  words  which  yon  fpeak,    that  have  any  virtue  to 
 charm  the  cceleftial  Powers ,    but  that  the  love  to 
 God  which  is  exprcflTed  in  Prayer,    invites  him  to 
 come  and  dwell  with  you.    Now  this  Love  is  testi- 
 fied as  much  in  other  actions  of  an  H  >Iy  Life,  efpe- 
 cially  when  we  deny  our  felves  any  fenfible  good  in 
 the  performance  of  them  5  and  therefore  they  cannoc 
 chule  but  re-inforce  our  Prayers ,    and  redoubje  our 
 Petitions,  and  call  ftill  for  new  Grace  to  make  us  able 
 to  do  better.    BefTdes  it  is  to  be  confidered,   that  do- 
 ing of  good  being  the  ufe  and  improvement  of  that 
 Grace  of  God  which  we  obtain  by  our  Prayers,  ic 
 muft  needs  entitle  us  to  the  right  which  the  Promife 
 of  God  gives  us,  of  more  Grace  to  be  added  unro  that 
 which  we  have  already  received.      We  render  to 
 God  hereby  his  own  with  Ufury  and  increafe ;   and  fo 
 cannot  mifs  of  procuring  more  Talents  to  be  lent  on- 
 to us.     And  indeed  if  you  enter  into  a  ftrict  Examina- 
 tion ©f  things,  you  will  find  that  every  ad  of  Virtue 
 hath  the  very  fame  effect  upon  the  Understanding 
 and  Will,   which  I  attribute  to  Prayer  it  felf.    For 
 there  is  nothing  more  enlightens  the  Mind  in  the 
 knowledge  of  good ,  than  the  experience  and  tafte 
 which  the  practice  of  it  gives  us  •    and  the  Will  is  fo 
 effectually  determined  hereby  to  the  choice  of  it,  that 
 it  gets  an  habit,  and  naturalry  propends  unto  it.   There 
 is  nothing  can  more  difpofe  the  foul  to  well-doing, 
 than  the  doing  well :  and  we  are  never  more  fecure  of 
 the  help  of  Gods  good  Spirit,  than  when  we  follow  the 
 motions  of  it. 
 
 Y  2  Behold 
 
1 64  ¥1*  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 Behold  then  what  a  dangerous  Rock  doth  here  dif- 
 oover  it  felf,  upon  which  many  have  dafht  and  fplic 
 themfelves,    and  perifhed.      Men  think  there  is  no 
 Communion  with  God,  but  what  is  held  by  Prayer, 
 and  fuch  like  holy  duties.    Nay,  as  if  this  were  all  we 
 have  to  do  for  maintaining  fiiendlhip  with  him,    ic 
 hath  engroflfed  the  name  of  duty ,    and  enclofed  the 
 °reate(t  part  cf  Religion  in  it  felf.     A  ftrange  conceit ! 
 As  if  in  theconftant  exercife  of  an  Holy  Life  we  d.d. 
 not  keep  a  fellowfhip  with  him  •,  by  doing  the  fame 
 that  he  doth,   and  mewing  forth  his  Virtues  to  the 
 World.    Is  there  any  thing  more  viiible  than  that  by. 
 Righteoufnefs,  Charity,  Patience,  and  fuch  like,  we 
 approach  to  God,    and  are  made  partakers  of  him  £: 
 Do  we  not  feel  him  by  thefe  things ■<  Are  we  not  made 
 one  Spirit  and  Nature  with  him ?    Doth  lienor  dwell 
 in  us,  and  we  in  him  ?   What  is  the  reafon  then  that 
 men  confine  Divine  Communion  to  Prayer  and  recei- 
 ving of  the  Sacrament,  as  if  we.  never  enjoyed  him  but 
 in  thefe  immediate  addrelTes  to  him  i    What  is  it  thac 
 makes  them  imagine  God  is  here  to  be  found,    and  no 
 where  elfe  <•  they  know  not  fure  what  itrs  ot  pray,  and 
 partake  of  thofe  holy  Myfteries.  They  fanfieit  is  but  the 
 pouring  out  fuch  a  number  of  words,  or  the  ftirring  of 
 feme  devout  affections  in  chem.Thefethey  conceive  will 
 put  them  inthe  favour  of  God,  and  fecure  them  thcte 
 without  any  further  labor. Which  hath  caufed,it  is  like, 
 the  corrupted.  Church  to  inereafe  the  number  of  Sa- 
 craments,, and  create  a  great  many  more  than  God  hath 
 made.     For  it  is  an  eafie  matter  to  receive  thefe  Seals 
 •f  Grace.,  and  : he-re  is  no  fach  repugnance  to  them  in, 
 our  fkfhly  nature  as  there  is  to  the  life  of  Jefa,    Hence 
 it  is  that  men  would  have  the  whole  furam  of  Religion 
 to  be  ccntained  in  thefe  fmall  Volumes.    They  wcu'd. 
 
 have 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  1  dj^ 
 
 have  all  Piety  cioiftered  up  in  thefe  narrow  Walls ; 
 and  arc  Joe!-:  to  give  it  a  larger  compaf?.  Within 
 ihefe  limits  th  .'  Would  willingly  have  it  confined.,  and 
 not  have  it  w;«.  k  abroad  in  our  common  converfadon 
 in  the  World.  But  if  t:  ey  had  any  true  rclilh  of 
 vertue,  they  ^  ould  loon  di.cern  that  thcie  Holy  Du- 
 ties are  prep  ations  fcr  whattbever  elfe  we  have  to 
 do.  They  arc  fo  far  from  excluding  all  the  reft,  that 
 they  include  them  every  one,  and  carry  them  in  their 
 Bolome.  Ail  the  Vertues  refort  hither,  at  the  time 
 when  thefe  are  to  be  performed.  Here  they  all  agree 
 to  meet,  and  (as  I  may  (peak  )  to  keep  their  General 
 Rendezvous,  the  better  to  ftrengthen  and  advance  each 
 other.  Ac  thefe  holy  retirements  they  all  come  to- 
 gether to  confulc  for  the  preferring  of  their  common 
 intereft.  There  is  not  one  of  them  abfenc  when  we 
 pray  as  we  ought,  or  adcrefsour  fclvesin  due  manner 
 to  the  Table  of  the  Lord.  Then  they  aflemble  them- 
 felvestojoyn  in  one  Band,  in  order  to  the  making  a 
 more  powerful  impreflion  upon  their  enemies  •,  and  to 
 increafe  their  ftrength,  the  better  to  encounter  them  as 
 all  times  elfe*  They  are  all  in  action  at  once  upon 
 thefe  occafi cms.  And  by  their  united  force  do  more 
 mightily  ingage  the  will  to  the  l6ve  of  them  ac  all 
 other  feafons.  When  we  pray,  we  make  a  folemn. 
 acknowledgement  of  God  in  ail  his  attributes.  We 
 confefs  him  to  be  the  caufc  of  all  things.  We  extol 
 his  Sovereign  Power  and  Supremacy  over  all  Crea- 
 tures. We  acknowledge  his  Independency,  and  our- 
 fe'lves  to  live  and  move  and  have  our  being,  in  him. 
 Weafcribe  to  him  Liberty  and  fredom  in  that  it  is  in 
 Ins  will  and  choice  whar,  and  when,  and  how  much  we 
 iball  enjoy.  We  give  hirri  the  Glory  of  his  Fulneis 
 aad  AU-fumYiency,  ofhislmmen/ity,  hisOm'nircienrv, 
 
 his 
 
1 fa  The  Parable  of  the  filgr'm. 
 
 his  Eternity  and  immutability,  his  Goodnefs  and  Boun- 
 ty, and  of  whatfoever  other  excellencies  belongs  unto 
 him.  We  humble  our  felves  alfo  before  him.  We 
 profefs  our  Faith  and  confidence  in  him  for  all  that  he 
 hath  promifed.  We  hope  in  his  Mercy:  and  refign 
 our  Souls  and  Bodies  into  his  Hands  to  be  governed  by 
 his  Holy  Laws.  Prayer  is  the  filence  of  our  Souls : 
 the  ftilnefs  and  calm  of  all  our  Paflions :  the  fatisfa&i- 
 on  and  contentment  of  our  Defires :  and  in  one  word,  ic 
 is  the  Union  of  our  Wills  with  the  Divine. 
 
 And  if  you  turn  your  eye  from  hence  to  the  Holy 
 Sacrament  of  Chrifts  Body  and  Blood,  there  you  will 
 find  the  very  fame  concourfc  of  all  the  Graces  to  aflift 
 at  that  folemn  time.  They  all  confpire  to  be  prefenc 
 then  to  wait  upon  our  Lord,  and  to  improve  them- 
 felves  by  exerting  their  utmoft  vigor  and  ftrength  in 
 that  Holy  Action.  The  very  bufinefs  and  imploymenc 
 of  a  Chriftian  foul  at  that  Feaft  is  to  celebrate  the  Di- 
 vine Goodnefs  with  our  higheft  praifes,  to  profefs  our 
 felves  the  Difciples  and  followers  of  the  Crucified 
 Jefus :  to  exprefs  the  greateft  paffion  of  Love  to  him : 
 to  offer  our  Souls  and  bodies  to  his  fervice :  to  accept 
 of  his  yoke,  and  take  his  Crofs  upon  our  fhoulders : 
 to  embrace  each  other  with  a  fervent  Charity :  to 
 open  our  hearts  unto  all  the  World :  to  excite  our 
 felves  to  the  doing  of  good  :  and  to  proclaim  forgive- 
 nefs  to  all  that  have  done  us  evil.  Here  all  our  trou-* 
 blefome  Paffions  are  laidafleep,  and  dare  not  fo  much 
 as  ftir ;  being  now  in  the  prefence  of  our  Lord.  They 
 are  all  hufht  and  ftill,  out  of  the  Reverence  they  bear 
 to  him  and  his  Soveraign  Authority.  Here  we  can  nei- 
 ther be  careful,  nor  angry,  nor  fearful,  nor  defiroas  of 
 any  other  thing  but  only  Him  and  his  Love.     Nay, 
 
 here 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim*.  j  67 
 
 here  all  the  inordmacy  of  them  isqueiled,  fubducd,anJ 
 brcught  under  the  Government  of  his  Laws.  They 
 are  doc  only  caft  into  a  deep,  but  mortified  and  (lain  at 
 the  fight  of  the  Paffion  of  our  Lord.  Anger  and  haired 
 give  up  the  Ghoft,  and  yield  themlelvcs  viftiws  to  his 
 conquering  Love.  All  our  care  for  the  World  expires 
 intocheBoibmeof  God.  All  fear  vaniihes,  and  turns 
 into  Faith  and  truft  in  his  Providence.  All  Pride  and 
 Vainglory  dies  at  the  feet  of  his  Humble  Majefty. 
 The  impure  delires  of  the  Flefh  receive  their  mor- 
 tal wound, when  we  feel  the  pangs  and  agonies  and  tra- 
 vail of  His  foul.  There  is  nothing  left  but  an  indigna- 
 tion at  our  fin  ful  felves,  a  care  to  pleafe  him,  an  holy 
 fear  to  offend  him,an  hatred  of  the  verygarmenc  fpot- 
 ted  with  the  flefh ;  a  love  of  Piety,  and  an  ambition 
 to  be  like  to  this  holy  Saviour.  It  would  be  too  long 
 if  I  fhould  tell  you  how  all  the  life  of  Jefus  was  at  once 
 exprefled  in  his  death :  and  how  as  he  hung  upon  the 
 Crofs,  he  acted  all  the  Vertues  which  he  had  fo  long 
 preached  and  praftifed.  But  you  will  foon  difcern  by 
 ycur  own  obfervation  if  you  pleafe  but  to  look  upon 
 him  in  th.it  laft  Scene  of  his  Tragedy 5  that  he  never 
 gave  greater  inftances  of  his  Humility,  Charity,  Meek- 
 nefs,  Patience,  Confidence  in  God,  and  contempt  of  the 
 World,than  whenheleftitinthofe  fhameful  and  igno- 
 minious torments.  And  therefore  fince  this  Crucified 
 Jefus  is  fo  lively  let  before  our  eyes  in  this  Holy  Sacra- 
 ment, we  mart  either  (hut  our  eyes,  or  e lie  he  will  im- 
 print fuch  an  Image  and  draw  fuch  a  Picture  of  him  felt 
 upon  our  hearts,  that  all  thofe  Graces  will  mine  toge- 
 ther there,  i 
 
 id     CHAP. 
 
-t4%  5Pfe  AVaMe  of  tfe  Vilgrttn. 
 
 CHAP.    XVIII. 
 
 Of  the  many  Enemies  he  was  to  cxpetfjbat  wmldafjault 
 hi*  Refolittion :  Some  from  within,  fome  from  without. 
 Of  the  [ubtilties  and  various  arts  to  deceive. 
 
 HEre  the  Good  man  man  made  a  paufe :  the  Ocher 
 feeming  as  if  he  had  a  mind  to  interpofe  fome 
 doubt,  or  to  make  fome  obfervation  upon  what  had 
 been  faid.  But  he  modeftly  praying  him  to  proceed, 
 and  telling  him  that  he  had  no  defire  to  do  any  thing 
 but  only  to  hearken  to  his  Inductions,  which  would 
 fooner  tire  the  Giver  than  the  Receiver ;  it  was  no 
 long  flop  to  his  fpeech  which  thus  continued.  I  am 
 (o  defirous  you  fliould  think  it  is  eafier  to  understand 
 than  to  follow  the  Chriftian  courfe  which  leads  to 
 Jerufdem ;  that  I  would  have  you  know  there  remains 
 not  much  more  to  be  added  ,  than  what  relates  to 
 thofe  things  which  have  been  already  fpoken.  But 
 you  having  thus  difpoted  of  your  affairs  and  put  your 
 felf  in  fuch  good  order  as  I  have  directed  ;  it  will  be 
 time  to  begin  your  journey  in  Gods  Name  thither.  Ga- 
 ly  be  fure  at  your  fetting  out,  that  you  confirm  the 
 Vow  you  have  made  •,  by  fetting  to  it  the  Seal  of  that 
 Holy  Sacrament  of  which  I  have  now  difcourftd.  %t 
 will  be  a  very  good  Viaticum  for  you,  and  in  the 
 ftrengch  of  this  Food  you  may  travel  many  days :  ftill 
 looking  at  Jefut  whom  you  behold  there  fo  feelingly 
 reprefented.  And  truly  yen  will  find  there  is  great 
 need  of  fortifying  your  felf  very  well,  for  I  muft  let 
 you  know  that  at  your  firft  frepping  out  of  doors,  be- 
 fore you  have  gone  many  paces,  you  will  be  encoun- 
 
 'tred 
 
The  far  able  of  the  filgritn.  1 6p 
 
 tied  with  a  World  of  enemies  of  feveral  forts ;  that 
 will  befet  you  round  about  and  boldly  aflaulc  your 
 resolution  of  going  to  Jertifalem.  Wc  are  told  indeed, 
 as  I  have  heard  fome  relate  out  olDhdjre  of  Sicily, 
 that  among  the  ancient  Indians,  there  were  certain 
 officers  appointed  on  purpofe  to  take  care  of  Travellers 
 and  Strangers,  and  to  fee  that  no  body  did  them  any 
 wrong.  And  if  it  chanced  that  any  fuch  pcrfon  did 
 fall  fick,  they  provided  a  Phyfician  for  him,  with  all 
 other  things  that  the  neceflities  of  fuch  a  condition 
 did  require.  If  he  dyed  they  gave  him  a  decent  Bu- 
 rial ;  and  if  he  had  any  money  or  goods  about  him 
 they  took  care  to  have  them  reftored  to  his  heirs  if 
 they  could  be  found.  But  now  you  will  very  much 
 deceive  your  felf  if  you  expect  fuch  kind  ufage  from 
 the  world,  or  think  to  be  preferved  in  your  travels 
 from  their  injuries  and  affronts.  There  is  not  fo  much 
 Christianity  lefc  among  them  as  will  equal  the  vcrtue 
 of  thofe  Pagans.  Men  are  more  bufie  in  pafTing  the 
 fentence  of  Damnation  upon  them,  than  in  condemn- 
 ing themfelves  for  not  excelling  and  outitripping  the 
 Piety  of  Infidels.  They  take  care  for  little  elfe  but  to 
 have  it  believed,  that  thofe  Heathens  (hall  not  be  faved 
 notwithstanding  all  their  good  works ;  and'thatthey 
 themfelves  (hall  be  faved  notwithstanding  their  bar- 
 renness of  them.  They  will  be  fo  far  from  doing  you 
 any  good,  that  they  will  not  flick  to  do  you  harm. 
 They  who  you  would  think  Should  be  a  guard  to  you, 
 may  prove  the  moft  dangerous  enemies,  and  take  an 
 opportunity  to  rifle  you.  There  are  many  will  be 
 forward  to  offer  you  their  fervice;  but  it  isbecaufe  they 
 would  willingly  have  an  occaSion  to  betray  you.  They 
 would  be  content  no  doubt  to  bury  you  ;  but  it  is  be- 
 caufe  they  are  glad  that  they  fee  you  dead.  And  yet 
 Z  you. 
 
iro  The  V  arable  of  theV'tlgr'tm. 
 
 you  mufl  not  think  that  evil  men  will  be  your  only  or 
 your  greateft  bppofers ;  for  there  are  fundry  others  as 
 I  told  you  that  will  be  ready  to  joyn  their  forces  with 
 them,  and  iuch  as  are  of  a  more  dangerous  and  malig- 
 nant difpofuion.  There  is  never  a  thing  you  fee  in, 
 the  world  but  it  may  prove  an  Adverfary,  and  indea- 
 vour  to  hinder  you  in  your  journey :  but  there  are 
 many  bcfides  more  potent  which  you  do  not  fee,  that 
 will  back  andfecond  them  in  their  mifchievous  defigru. 
 Though  they  difagree  never  fo  much  among  them- 
 felves  in  other  things,  yet  they  will  all  combine  toge- 
 ther and  confplre  in  this,  to  ufe  their  utmoft  skill  and: 
 indeavour  to  check  your  deftres,  and  break  your  pur- 
 pofes;  or  at  leaft  to  give  you  many  difcooragements. 
 that  may  flop  you  in  your  courfe  and  hinder  your  go- 
 ing forward  to  Jerufalem*,  I  have  known  many  pil- 
 grims of  great  courage  and  undaunted  Refolution,, 
 and  yet  I  could  never  hear  of  any  whom  more  or. 
 fewer  of  thefc  Armed  enemies  had  not  the  hardinefs  to 
 fet  u:  on :  And  fomel  have  been  acquainted  with,  who 
 were  either  forced  or  perfwaded  by  them  to  make  a 
 retreat  after  they  were  well  advanced  in  their  way 
 thither*  And  therefore  you  muft:  not  think  you  (hall 
 be  fuch  a  priviledged  Soul  as  to  efcape  their  aflaults : 
 (ince  Heroical  Vertue  could  never  terrifie  them  from 
 making  a  proof  of  its  conftancy  and  valour.  And  you 
 muft  not  think  neither  that  they  are  without  ftrata- 
 gems  and  fubtil  Arts  to  deceive  thofe  whofe  ftrength 
 they  cannot  over-mafter.  They  will  fpare  neither 
 lyes,  nor  flatteries,  nor  bribes,  nor  fine  entertainments 
 (if  they  fee  that  Violence  is  like  to  effect  nothing)  to 
 corrupt  your  mind,  and  induce  you  to  change  once 
 more,  and  rtturn  home  again  to  thofe  injoyments 
 which  you  have  quit  and  left  behind  you.    There  is 
 
 nothing 
 
The  far  Me  of  the  filgrim.  \j  { 
 
 nothing  fo  afflicts  them  as  to  fee  a  Soul  in  love  with 
 Jef*s3  and  refolutely  bent  to  travel  for  to  find  him. 
 This  urges  them  to  ufe  their  greateft  induftry  and  wit 
 to  extinguilh  that  good  will,  with  the  lot's  of  which 
 they  know  your  Journey  will  ceafe  and  come  to  no- 
 thing. Againft  thefe  therefore  you  muft  be  well  pro- 
 vided, that  when  they  come  and  make  an  impreflion 
 upon  you,  it  may  find  fuch  a  noble  refiftance,  that  ic 
 may  fly  back  with  iliame  in  their  own  faces,  and  only 
 fet  a  mark  of  honour,  and  token  of  victory  upon  yours. 
 And  truly  to  expect  and  look  for  them,  is  half  way  to 
 aconqueft:  their  greateft  advantage  lying  in  the  fe- 
 curity  of  a  Soul  which  fears  no  danger.  Which  makes 
 this  Warning  that  I  give  you  beforehand  the  more  ne- 
 ccflary,  becaufe  it  is  a  part  of  your  Armour,  and  not 
 only  an  Alarm  to  make  you  careful  to  be  well  ap- 
 pointed. 
 
 I  believe  you  are  defirous  to  have  fome  lift  of  thefe 
 Enemics5and  therefore  I  think  fit  to  let  you  know  chat 
 you  will  find  none  more  forward  to  fct  upon  you,  than 
 fome  within  your  felf.  The  Flejhly  deftres  I  mean,  and 
 the  worldly  fears  of  your  own  naughty  heart,  who  the 
 more  they  have  found  you  a  friend  to  them  hereto- 
 fore, will  now  become  the  more  peftilent  enemies,  and 
 do  you  the  greater  mifchief.  Thefe  will  be  very  un- 
 willing that  you  mould  do  fo  much  as  Pray,  or  Medi- 
 tate with  any  ferioufnefs  of  Jeftts  and  Jerusalem ;  and 
 much  more  oppofite  will  they  be  to  the  Life  of  Sobrie- 
 ty And  Self- denyal^  which  they  fee  you  entring  upon. 
 If  their  confent  were  firft  to  be  obtained,  you  mould 
 not  ftirfo  much  as  one  foot  in  this  way  wherein  I  have 
 directed  you.  They  would  murmur  and  repine  moi 
 fadly ;  they  would  put  a  thoufand  jealoufies  in  your 
 Z  2  mind, 
 
vr&  ^*  TarableoftheTilgrim. 
 
 mind,  and  remember  you  of  as  many  favices  which* 
 you  owe  them,   without  the  performance  of  whic'i 
 they  can  never  reft  contented.     And  therefore  when 
 you  have  made  a  little  progrels,  and  tafted  fome  of  the 
 difficulties  of  your  way  >   then  is  the  opportunity  of  the 
 F/*/£tofetinftrongly  with  its  realbns,  anj  to  luggeft 
 to  you  that  it  is  a  courfe  not  to  be  indured.    It  cannot 
 be  expected  that  in  fo  fit  an  occafion  it  mould  be  filent, 
 but  that  it  mould  intreat  you  of  all  loves  not  to  be  fo 
 cruel  as  to  proceed  in  your  purpofe,  and  to  deny  it  thofe 
 fatisfattions  which  are  not  to  be  met  withal  in  fuch  a 
 difmal  road.     Sometimes  it  will  cry  out  of  the  injuries 
 that  have  been  doneit  •  and  complain  of  the  violence 
 that  Temperance  hath  offered  to  its  pleafures5  and 
 the  robberies  which  the  poor  have  committed  upon. 
 its  goods,  with  other  intolerable  wrongs  of  the  fame 
 nature  :    And  fometimes  it  will  fhriek  and  cry  out  for 
 fear  of  the  Danger  and  Hardfhips  that  are  (till  in- 
 fuing,   and  will  be  fur  e,   as  it  fancies,  to  muke  a  total 
 fpoil  of  all  its  contentments.    And  though  many  of 
 thefe  pitious  lamentations  be  neglected  by  you,  yet  ic 
 will  not  ceafe,  it  is  like,    to  follow  you  with  them  5 
 and  at  fome  feafons  plainly  to  grapple  with  you,   and 
 ftruggle  for  the  Victory.    And  fince  after  fome  diffi- 
 culties that  are  overcome,  there  may  well  be  fuppofed 
 others  to  be  remaining  that  will  try  your  conftancy  ; 
 thefe  will  be  fure  to  be  reprefented  to  you  in  a  very  for- 
 midable fhape,    and  made  to  appear  far  bigger  and 
 ,  vafte*  than  really  they  are.     That  fo  your  fcfbty  de fires 
 may  have  the  fairer  pretence  to  wifliyoa  toconfult  for 
 your  eafe  and  fafety  both  together,  by  returning  back 
 to  the  place  from  whence  you  came.     Many  evil  Spi- 
 rits likewife  there  is  no  doubt,    will  joyn  themfelvcs 
 to  this  party  :.  Andobfcrvingthe  belt  advantage  that 
 
 mall 
 
T\:e  parable  of  the  Tjgrim.  j  pr>: 
 
 Avail  arife,  they  will  ule  a!J  the  Heights,  and  tempta- 
 tions, and  power  that  they  are  Matters  of,  to  inticc  or 
 draw  your  heart  from  the  Love  of  Jefus,  and  make  yea 
 Weai  y  of  p  rofecuting  your  purpofe  of  going  to  him.  But 
 whatfoevtrany,  or  all  of  chefc  rtiall  Tay,  and  in  what- 
 fotver  form  they  (hall  make  cither  their  addreflts  or 
 aflaults ;  believe  not  a  word  they  fpeak,  or  rather 
 flop  your  ears  as  much  as  you  can  to  all  their  charm?. 
 And  be  lure  at  leaft  to  betake  your  felf  to  that  one  fe- 
 cure  Remedy  which  I  told  you  of,  anfwering  thus 
 unto  them  :  Idepre  nought  but  the  Love  of  Jefa,  and 
 to  he  with  hitn  in  peace  at  Jerusalem.  This  word  will 
 drive  them  all  away,  as  having  no  hopes  to  find  any 
 room  in  thofe  fouls  that  are  full  of  i'uch  defires.  And 
 unlefsyou  cealeto  (ay  and  think  that,  or  you  give  it 
 but  a  cold  remembrance^they  will  let  you  go  on  in  your 
 way  thither,  without  any  further  difturbance  from  fuch 
 perfwafions. 
 
 But  yet  when  they  fee  that  they  cannot  be  admitted 
 at  this  door  they  will  try  to  enter  in  at  another,  or 
 at  leaft  they  will  endeavour  to  reprefs  the  forward- 
 nefs  of  yourcourfe,  and  to  make  your  way  intricate 
 and  perplexed.  For  finding  that  you  cannot  be  per- 
 fwadedtobe  inlove  wich  them,  or  any  of  their  con- 
 federates •,  they  will  begin  to  throw  fcruples  and  fears 
 into  your  mind,  that  you  may  bear  an  aftl&ion  tr> 
 fome  or  other  of  them.  When  they  cannot  cifturb- 
 your  Paflions,  they  will  be  fo  fubtil  as  to  trouble  your 
 Fancy.  And  when  they  cannot  per  wade  you  to  break 
 off  your  Journey,  they  will  labour  to  poflefs  yon  with 
 a  conceit  that  you  have  not  yet  prepare'  your  felf  fuf- 
 ficicntly  for  it.  They  will  often  be  ftirung  up  fi:ch 
 '  thoughts  as  thefe  in  your  mind.;    that  you  have  n  t 
 
 wafhed.- 
 
xy  4  Tf>e  f  arable  of  the  filgriml 
 
 v  warned  your  felf  dean  enough  by  forrowand  contrition 
 for  your  fins.that  yourconfeience  hath  not  been  thorow- 
 }y  fearched,  nor  your  faults  duly  confefled,   nor  your 
 iieart  rightly  humbled,  and  deeply  afflicted :  and  there- 
 fore that  it  would  be  beft  for  you  to  return  again.at  lead 
 for  fo  fliort  a  fpace  till  you  may  be  better  purged,    and 
 To  the  better  provided  for  travel.    With  much  fpe- 
 cioufnefs,   and  very  fair  (hews  of  faithful  counfel  will 
 "jail  this  be  reprefented:  And  they  will  make  you  believe, 
 if  they  can,  that  you  cannot  pleafe  God  better  than 
 by  going  back  to  the  very  place  where  you  firft  began, 
 in  order  to  prepare  your  felf  with  more  exaclnefs  for 
 fuch  a  long  Journey.     But  do  not  give  any  credit  to  a 
 fyllable  of  all  this ;  nor  think  your  felf  obliged  to  ran- 
 fack  your  confeience  all  over  again,  and  to  (pend  your 
 time  in  I  know  not  what  penfivenefs  and  tirefome  hu- 
 miliations.   For  thei'e  courfes  may  indanger  to  keep 
 you  always  at  home  $  either  becaufe  you  will  never 
 think  that  you  know  the  bottom  of  your  heart,  or  be- 
 caufe you  will  (till  feem  not  to  be  forrowful  and  peni- 
 tent enough,  or  becaufe  thefe  horrours  will  even  af- 
 fright you  from  Religion,  and  make  you  think  (  as  I 
 have  known  Come  do )  that  it  is  impoilible  to  be  faved. 
 At  leaft  thefe  things  will  put  you  into  uncouth  and  un- 
 known ways ,   and  make  others  think  that  Piety  is 
 madnefs.    They  will  hinder  you  alfo  exceeding  much, 
 fothat  (ifyougoonatall,  yet)  you  will  travel  very 
 •    flowly,   and  be  a  mod  tedious  time  before  you  come  ac 
 Jefus.     Say  therefore  to  thefe  fcruples,    when  they 
 buzz  in  your  ears  ;   I  am  nought ',  /  have  nought,  &C. 
 I  have  funk  my  felf  as  low  as  1  can  in  my  own  efteem* 
 I  have  forfaken  all,   and  carry  nothing  in  my  heart  as 
 he  knows  but  only  Jefus  and  Jerusalem,   and  therefore 
 moleft  me  not  in  my  paflage  to  them. 
 
 And 
 
The  Taralle  of  the  Pilgrim.  \7* 
 
 And  if  they  (hall  ftill  proceed  to  tell  you  Capon  the 
 difcovcry  of  this  Artifice  to  deceive  you;  that  ic  is 
 too  great  a  boldnefs  for  fuch  a  perfon  as  you,  to  think 
 to  fee  Jefus  and  Jerufalem :  if  they  fay  that  you  are  not 
 worthy  of  his  favour,  nor  ought  to  be  fo  prefumptuous 
 as  to  hope  for  it  •,  anfwer  them  again  in  the  very  fame 
 wot  ds,/*w  nought  J  have  nought. e^c.  I  know  as  well  as 
 you  can  tell  me,  that  I  am  unworthy  of  any  thing,  and 
 much  more  of  his  favour:but  therefore  it  is  that  I  defire 
 him,  and  am  going  to  him,  that  I  may  have  feme  wor- 
 thmefs,  by  rcfembLng  him. 
 
 I  do  not  prefume  upon  my  own  deferts,  but  upon  hi* 
 Love  5  nor  am  I  pricked  forward  by  my  own  defires 
 only,  but  by  his  invitations ;  nor  was  it  my  motion, 
 but  his  own,  which  firft  put  me  upon  this  defign  of 
 travelling  to  him.  Nor  {ball  you  ever  perfwade  me  to 
 defift  in  this  enterprize  y  unlefs  yon  can  tell  me  from  his 
 own  mouth,  that  he  will  do  no  good  unto  a  finner  (as 
 I  confefs  my  felf  to  be)but  I  will  continue  to  pray  with- 
 out ceaflng,  and  to  labour  perpetually  that  I  may  be 
 righteous,  like  to  himfelf ;  and  fo  be  accepted  with 
 him.  I  am  notfo  foolifh  indeed  asto  imagine  that  he 
 will  receive  me  to  himfelf  at  Jerufalem^  if  1  become  no 
 better  than  I  am ;  but  I  ftudy  by  his  Grace  (  which  I 
 know  he  is  not  wont  to  deny )  to  be  madefo  conform- 
 able to  his  defires,  that  he  will  not  think  me  unworthy 
 to  be  there  entertained  by  him. 
 
 And  new  if  any  old  friend  or  acquaintance  mould 
 chance  to  crofs  your  way  ;  and  pitying  that  poor 
 and  defolate  condition  wherein  you  feem  to  be,  mould 
 in  civility  invite  you  home  to  him,  and  pray  you  ta 
 accept  of  the  kindnefs  of  their  Country  ;  or  if  he 
 
 Oiould 
 
,t7$  The  farahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 fhould  promife  you  fome  great  pleafures,  and  rare 
 divertiiementstothefkfh,  which  are  far  more  eligible 
 in  his  opinion,  than  fucha  miferable  Pilgrim's  life  as 
 he  fees  you  lead ;  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  him,  and  donoc 
 go  along  with  him. 
 
 Nay  if  he  only  (lop  you  in  your  journey  by  vain  fri- 
 volous and  impertinent  dilcourfes,  which,  you  think, 
 'detain  you  too  long  from  accomplifliing  your  inten- 
 tions, break  loofe  from  him  as  foon  as  you  fairly  can, 
 and  fay  only  this  to  him,  Sir,  Jrvouldfain  be  at  Je- 
 rusalem. And  if  he  perfift  to  trouble  you,  and  follow 
 you  with  his  importunities  to  turn  afide  to  his  dwelling, 
 or  to  let  him  have  more  cf  your  company  •,  invite  him 
 togo  along  with  you,  and  tell  him  that  then  he  (hall 
 enjoy  as  much  as  he  pleafes  of  it.  And  if  to  thefe  Tem- 
 ptations there  mould  many  others  fuccced  from  t]ie 
 proffers  of  Gifts,  Honours  and  Preferments  which  will 
 incommode  you,  and  be  a  clog  to  you  in  your  jour- 
 ney; regard  them  not,  but  ftill  bear  in  your  minds  the 
 thoughts  of  what  you  mall  have  at  Jerufalem.  Which 
 is  not  meant  as  if  I  thought  the  Rich  and  the  Honoura- 
 ble could  not  get  thither  as  well  as  we.  but  only  to 
 preferve  you  from  the  greedy  humour  of  the  world, who 
 catch  at  all  that  prefents  it  felf,  though  they  ftart  out  of 
 their  way  to  get  it  5  and  turn  into  an  hundred  by-paths 
 to  poffefs  and  augment  it. 
 
 CHAP- 
 
The  Parable  of  the  filgrim*  177; 
 
 CHAP.   XIX. 
 
 Of  many  other  devices  to  dij courage  him  in  his  Journey : 
 Efpecially  ifhe/hould  chance  to  get  a  fall, 
 
 HEre  the  Holy  man  refted  himfelf  again  for  a  little 
 fpace,  to  fee  if  there  were  ought  that  his  Difciplc 
 had  a  mind  to  propofe,  who  all  this  while  had  been  in  a' 
 profound  ftilnefs.  But  when  he  faw  that  he  did  nothing 
 put  ponder  upon  what  he  had  fpoken,  and  remained  fo 
 fixed,  as  if  he  had  been  chained  to  his  mouth,  and  could 
 not  ftir  from  thence  ;  he  went  on  in  his  difcourfe, 
 which  he  clearly  difcerned  the  poor  foul  mod  greedily 
 received.  You  look,  faidhe,  as  if  you  were  not  ac 
 all  dejected  at  what  I  have  delivered ;  and  perhaps  you 
 are  the  better  fatisfied,  becaufe  you  expect  to  be  enter- 
 tained with  more  pleafant  news',  than  hitherto  hath  faul- 
 ted you.  But  I  muft  deal  fincerely  with  you,  and  let  you 
 know  that  many  of  the  pleafures  in  this  way  that  you 
 are  to  go,  confift  more  (in  beating  enemies,  than  in 
 having  none ;  in  victories  and  triumphs,  rather  than  in 
 not  being  expofed  to  dangerous  conflicts.  And  there- 
 fore be  contented  to  hear  that  all  your  enemies  will  fall 
 into  a  rage,  and  be  filled  with  madnefs,  when  they  lee 
 their  ftratagems  become  fo  unfuccefsful.  And  that 
 they  may  take  fome  revenge  for  fo  fhameful  a  disap- 
 pointment, they  will  procure  that  you  be  exceedingly 
 defpifed  and  fc-"ned  as  a  very  poor  wretch,  and  a  filly 
 creature.  They  will  fee  perhaps  the  very  Boys  and  Girls 
 to  laugh  and  hout  at  you :  or,  which  is'worfe,  they  will 
 lay  all  the  falfe  things  to  your  charge  that  they  can 
 A  a  devife, 
 
i^8  The  Tar  able  of the  Pilgrim. 
 
 devife,  and  throw  in  your  teeth  any  old  fault  which 
 you  have  committed  ,  and  not  only  brand  you  with 
 very  difgraceful  names,  but  alio  calumniate  you  as  a 
 man  of  illdcfigns.  But  if  you  will  be  fafe,  I  charge 
 you  not  to  heed  thefe  things  at  all ;  no  not  if  they  go. 
 about  to  rob  you,  or  proceed  to  beat  you,  or  ufe  you 
 very  defpitcfully ,  and  perfecute  you  with  as  much 
 violence  as  malice  can  minifter  to  their  fury. .  Remem- 
 ber what  I  now  fay  unto  you,  as  you  love  your  life ; 
 .and  contend  not  with  them,  ftrive  not  fiercely  againft 
 them,  nor  fpend  fo  much  as  a  fit  of  anger  upon  them. 
 Content  your  felf  as  well  as  you  can  with  the  da- 
 mage received  ,  and  pafs  on  quietly,  as  though  no 
 hurt  had  been  done  •  left  you  involve  your  felf  in  worfe 
 dangers,  and  fuffer  a  far  greater  harm  than  they  have 
 in  their  power  to  do  you.  Carry  this  only  in  your 
 mind,  that  to  be  at  Jerufa/em  in  fafety  with  Jepvs,  is 
 a  thing  that  ought  to  be  purchafed  with  far  harder  ufage 
 than  all  this  5  and  then  you  will  not  fo  much  as  re- 
 pine at  it,  but  be  more  comforted  by  your  patience,  , 
 than  you  could  have  been  by  remaining  free  from  fuch  ' 
 afflictions. 
 
 Let  this  alfo  be  added  for  your  fupport  ]  that  if 
 they  fee  you  are  fo  hardy,  as  not  to  be  at  all  moved 
 by  thefe  affronts,  but  rather  well  contented  with  fuch 
 rude  and  dirty  abufes ;  it  will  give  as  great  difcou- 
 ragement  to  them ,  as  they  hoped  thereby  to  have 
 given  you.  You  will  grow  a  very  confiderable  per- 
 ion  in  their  account,  and  they  will  ftand  in  fear  of  you^ 
 as  one  that  is  like  to  hearten  many  others  in  this  jour- 
 ney, from  which  they  labour  by  fo  many  ways  that 
 they  may  be  deterred.  Which  mufl  not  be  expound- 
 ed as  if  their  heart  would  not  ferve  them  to  trouble 
 
 vou 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrim.  j  6> 
 
 you  any  longer,  when  they  fee  you  return  all  their 
 blows  tpon  themfelves  •,  for  as  long  as  their  malice 
 Jafts,  they  will  not  ceafe  to  be  a  vexation  to  you,  and 
 to  Icbour  to  bring  you  into  fome  new  danger.  Nay, 
 ic  is  likely  they  will  from  all  thefe  difappointments 
 only  learn  to  go  to  work  more  craftily ,  and  lay  all 
 their  heads  together  to  contrive  fome  infenfible 
 ways  of  effecting  your  ruine.  But,  as  I  faid  before, 
 keep  in  your  mind  Jefm  and  Jerufalem,  and  they  will 
 give  you  fecurity,  and  countermine  all  their  plots  to 
 undo  you.  As  for  inftance,  it  is  poffible  they 
 will  endeavour  to  fow  fome  differences  between  you 
 and  your  fellow-travellers,  when  you  meet  with  any 
 to  bear  you  company.  They  will  ftudy  to  work  in 
 you  an  ill  opinion,  and  to  make  you  my  of  each  other  * 
 nay,  to  call  fuch  bones  of  contention  among  you,  that 
 you  null  grow  pjfllonate,  full  out  by  the  way,  and 
 break  company  :  of  which  reparation  they  will  be  the 
 more  defirous,  becaufe  they  know  it  is  fo  profitable 
 for  you  in  your  travels  to  have  the  benefit  of  good 
 companions.  Now  if  in  this  cafe  you  do  but  look  up- 
 on fef/ui  though  the  fire  were  already  kindled,  ic 
 would  be  inftantly  extinguiflied.  And  if  Jerttfalem 
 do  but  come  into  your  mind  ,  if  you  do  but  caft  a 
 glance  upon  chat  fweet  and  quiet  place,  it  will  pre- 
 iently  make  a  calm  in  your  Soul ;  which  cannot  think 
 it  likely  you  (liould  come  thither,  but  in  the  paths  of 
 Peace  and  Love.  As  much  as  in  you  lye;h  therefore, 
 live  peaceably  with  all  men,  and  much  more  with  your 
 Brethren  and  Companions.  And  as  one  of  the  Eldeft 
 Guides  that  ever  travelled  this  way  hath  lefc  us  directi- 
 ons, lee  it  be  ever  a  principal  p;irc  of  your  care,  to  keep 
 the  Unity  cf 'the  Spirit  in  the  bond  of  Peace. 
 
 A  a  2  I  hope 
 
1 8  o  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 I  hope  that  what  I  now  fay ,  together  with  that 
 difpofition  which  brought  you  hither  to  me,  will 
 render ,one  caution  (which  elfe  fhould  have  been 
 here  interpofed^}  as  unneceflary  to  you,  as  it  is  need- 
 ful in  it  felf :  which  is,  That  you  enter  not  into 
 hot  difputes,  and  (harp  contentions  with  any  man , 
 no  nortbout  the  Opinions  in  which  they  pretend  Re- 
 ligion is  concerned.  But  yet  let  me  pafs  an  Observa- 
 tion or  two  upon  thofe  Contefts  which  feem  to  exer- 
 cife  fo  much  of  fome  mens  zeal,  and  tell  you  ^  That  I 
 do  not  remember  I  have  been  acquainted  wkkany 
 man  who  was  in  love  with  Controveriies,  that-pm'ch 
 minded  the  way  of  Jerufalem,  or  ftudied  to  be  fo  able 
 to  do  the  will  of  God,  as  to  confute  and  filence  the' 
 Advc'rfaries  that  he  oppofed.  This  wrangling  piece  of 
 Learning,  Is  always  wont  to  leave  the  m#ft  dieceffa- 
 ry  truths ,  that  it  may  purfue  thofe  which  are  un- 
 profitable and  good  for  nothing.  Nay,  itisobferved 
 by  wife  men,  to  be  generally  accompanied  with  this 
 bafe  quality  5  that  it  cannot  exercife  the  Underftan- 
 ding  without  provoking  the  pafiions ,  ncr  fpeak  of 
 -  Moderation  it  felf  without  diftemper ,  nor  treat  of 
 peace  and  quietnefs,  without  putting  the  Soul  into 
 oiforder.  And  therefore  I  could  never  difcern  that 
 fuch  Difputers  have  any  great  faculty  of  defcrying 
 the  Truth  about  which  they  contend  ;  but  make 
 that  a  matter  of  great  difficulty  and  perplexity  which 
 the  peaceable  people,  and  they  who  are  free  from 
 paffion  and  prejudice ,  do  eafily  difcover.  And  here 
 I  (hall  not  flick  to  refrefh  your  mind  a  little  with 
 the  pleafure  of  a  Story  or  Parable  which  I  have 
 fomewhere  met  withal  out  of  Anfelme,  a  man  of  no 
 mean  efteem  in  the  times  wherein  he  lived.  There 
 were  two  men,   faith  he,    who  a  little  before  the  Sun- 
 
TJ?e  Tarable  of  the  Tilgrhn.  1 8 1 
 
 was  up,  fell  into  a  very  earned  debate  concerning  that 
 part  of  the  Heavens  wherein  that  Glorious  body  was 
 to  arife  that  day.  In  this  Controver/Te  they  fuflfered 
 themlelves  to  be  fofar  ingaged,  that  at  laft  they  fell 
 together  by  the  ears,  and  ceafed  not  their  bufferings 
 till  they  had  beaten  out  each  others  eyes.  And  fo  ic 
 cametopafs,  that  when  a  little  after,  the  Sun  did  (how 
 his  face,  there  was  neither  of  thefe  doughty  Champi- 
 ons that  could  difcern  one  jot  a  thing  lb  clear  as  the 
 Prince  of  lights,  which  every  child  law  befide  thetn- 
 felves.  It  would  be  too  great  a  difparagement  to 
 your  underftanding,  if  I  Ihould  fpenda  moment  in 
 teaching  you  to  apply  it  to  our  prefent  purpofe. 
 It  is  fufficient  to  add,  That  though  Zeal  for  Re- 
 ligion hz  not  only  commendable,  but  required  of 
 us }  yet  we  muft  take  great  heed  left  we  ftrive 
 fo  hotly  and  paflionately  for  every  Opinion  which 
 we  have  conceived,  that  we  quite  lofe  our  faculty 
 of  difcovering  either  that,  or  any  thing  clfe  which 
 istrulygood.  I  may  well  lay  any  thing  ell'e-,  for  thefe 
 Controverfiesin  Religion  I  have  heard  fome  wife  men 
 obferve,  do  much  hinder  the  advancement  of  other 
 Sciences,  and  thtf  increafe  of  good  knowledge  in  the 
 World.  And  therefore  a  great  Reftorer  of  Learning 
 among  our  felves  was  wont  to  fay,  that  he  was  like  the 
 Miller  near  one  of  our  famous  Univerfities,  whoufed 
 to  pray  for  peace  among  the  Willows.  For  while 
 the  Wind  blew,  and  the  Wind  mills  wrought,  the 
 Water-mill  was  lefs  cuftomed.  And  juft  lb  it  is  with 
 thefe  difputes :  while  they  are  high,  and  fet  mens  wits 
 in  agitation,  they  draw  away  their  thoughts  from 
 other  profitable  ftudies,  and  hinder  their  minds  from 
 fuch  noble  inquiries  as  would  do  a  great  fervice  to 
 mankind.     Pray  therefore  for  the  peace  of  thofe  that 
 
 travel 
 
,8 1  The  Parabk  of  the  Pilgrim'. 
 
 travel  to  Jerufalem,  and  do  you  feek  itandpurfue  it 
 by  all  means  poflible.  Or  if  any  be  contentious, 
 and  obey  not  the  truth  ;  mark  fuch  pcrfons  and  avoid 
 them. 
 
 And  truly  there  are  To  many  enemies,  as  you  have 
 heard  ,  to  exercife  cur  zeal ,  that  we  had  not  need  to 
 create  more,  and  to  feek  for  enemies  among  our  felves. 
 They  are  fo  combined  and  confederate  for  our  mif- 
 ch'.ef  and  undoing,  that  it  {lands  us  in  hand  to  unite 
 our  forces  alfo  for  our  mutual  defence,  and  not  to  give 
 them  that  advantage  which  they  greedily  gape  for,  and 
 will  certainly  have  by  our  fad  divifions.  So  great  is 
 their  fubtilcy,  and  fo  intent  they  are  to  make  the  utmoft 
 ufeofit,  that  if  we  have  any  wit,  it  had  need  be  joyned 
 to  obviate  their  defigns,  and  not  imployed  to  make 
 wide  breaches  •,  at  which,  without  much  difficulty  they 
 may  eafily  enter  and  deftroy  us.  For,  befides  all  the 
 ways  of  deceiving  us  that  have  been  already  related, 
 I  muft  not  forget  to  remember  you  of  a  condition  into 
 which  you  may  fall,  of  which  they  will  not  fail  to  ferve 
 them  felves  as  much  as  they  are  able.  It  is  poflible  I 
 mean  that  fome  way  or  other  a  fit  o£  ficknefs  may  fur- 
 prize  you  in  your  Journey  •,  or  it  may  fo  happen  that 
 fuch  a  great  want  may  be  your  portion,  that  very  few 
 men  will  offer  you  any  help,  or  regard  your  crys  when 
 you  beg  for  relief.  At  this  feafen  your  enemies  will 
 gather  about  you,  and  as  if  they  meant  at  once  to  (wal- 
 low you  up,  they  will  put  Orange  fancies  into  your 
 head,  and  abufe  your  mind  with  fuch  black  and  melan- 
 choly thoughts,  as  may  prove  no  fmall  affliction  to  you. 
 They  v  ill  infult  over  you,  and  tell  you  that  your  folly 
 and  preemption  in  undertaking  that  tediojs  Journey, 
 hath  reduced  you  to  fo  great  extremities :    or  that 
 
 fome 
 
The  V  or  able  of  the  Tilgrim.  .1  83 
 
 fome  bain  us  fin  for  which  you  have  not  yet  been 
 humbled,  is  thecau^eof  this  lad  condition:  or  that 
 you  are cne  whom  Jeftts  bates,  which  hath  made  him 
 to  abandon  you  to  thefeftraights  to  chafiife  your  con- 
 fidence: or  that  he  loves  you  fo  little,  as  not  to  care 
 whether  any  body  mind  you  :  or  at  lead  that  you  have 
 fo  ill  ceferved  of  mankind,  that  none  of  them  regards 
 you  or  hath  any  lbllicitude  for  your  welfare.  And  all 
 thefe  tales  ihey  will  tell  over  and  over  again  in  your 
 ears,  to  feed  your  melancholy  and  difquiet  of  Spirit ; 
 to  make  you  murmur  and  fall  into  difcontcnt;  to 
 breed  in  you  an  ill  opinion  of  your  Jefu-s,  or  to  provoke 
 you  to  anger  and  difpleafure  againft  your  Brethren; 
 and  if  it  be  pcfiible  to  work  you  into  (uch  uncharitable 
 thoughts  of  them ,  that  you  fhould  never  love  them 
 any  more.  But  now  it  will  concern  you  very  much 
 to  flop  your  ears  to  all  thefe  lamentable  ftories,  and  to 
 make  as  if  you  heard  them  not  at  all.  You  muft  fay 
 over  your  old  leflbn  as  oft  as  they  repeat  thefe  fug- 
 geftions,  and  whifper  to  your  felf  thefe  vordr,  lam 
 nought^  I  deferve  thefe  miferies  •  It  is  not  ftrange  that  I 
 am  fick  or  poor,  but  that  I  am  no  worfe.  And  then,  if 
 you  pleafe,  you  may  defie  all  thefe  enemies^and  let  them 
 know  that  you  do  not  fo  much  as  paffionately  defire  the 
 removal  of  thefe  burdens,  nor  care  for  any  thing  in  the 
 World  but  only  for  the  Love  ofjefus,  and  to  be  -with 
 him  in  peace  at  "Jerusalem.  Tell  them  you  cannot  be- 
 lieve that  he  hates  a  man  who  is  pofTelted  with  this 
 Defire  •,  but  howfoever  it  be,  that  you  are  refolved 
 to  try  him  by  going  on,  and  perfevering  perpetually 
 in  it. 
 
 But  then  if  it  fhould  happen  that  any  of  thefe  af- 
 faults  which  I  have  named  fhould  prove  fo  ftrong,  as 
 
 not 
 
t84  The  farabk  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 not  only  to  (hake  you,  but  alfo  to  make  you  (tumble, 
 yea  to  throw  you  down,  and  to  give  you  fuch  a  fall, 
 that  thereby  fome  hurt  is  done  yon  :  Or  fuppofe  that 
 you  mould  chance  toftepafide,  and  to  divert  a  little 
 out  of  the  direct  path  which  leads  to  Jemfalem-,  yotl 
 muft  know  that  they  will  make  a  foul  ftit  about  it,  and 
 accufe  you  heavily  for  having  done  that,  which  they 
 laboured  with  all  their  power  to  make  you  do.  I  can- 
 not tell  you  how  you  will  look  upon  your  felf  in  fuch 
 a  cafe  if  you  fhould  flide  into  it ;  but  if  you  will  follow 
 my  advice,  I  would  not  have  you  to  efteem  it  fo  great 
 and  horrid  a  matter  as  they  will  make  it,  nor  luffer 
 your  felf  to  be  affrighted  and  aftonifhed  at  it.  All  that 
 any  wife  man  would  bid  you  do  in  fuch  a  condition,  is 
 no  more  but  this  •  that  as  foon  as  you  obferve  your 
 fall,  and  are  come  to  your  felf  again,  you  get  up  pre- 
 fently ,  return  into  the  old  path,  and  ufe  fuch  remedies 
 and  medicines  as  every  good  body  prefcribes  in  fuch 
 cafes.  Confider  ferioufly  by  what  means  you  were 
 drawn  afide,  humble  your  felf  at  the  feet  of  God ;  be 
 afflicted,  mourn  and  weep  fo  far,  that  the  fmart  you 
 fuffer  may  keep  you  hereafter  from  the  fin ;  ftreng- 
 then  your  refolution  j  fortifie  your  felf  in  thofe'  v/eak 
 places  where  you  are  lyable  to  furprifc  5  be  more 
 watchful  for  the  future,  and  more  inflant  in  prayer  for 
 the  aids  of  Divine  Grace.  But  when  this  is  doney  be 
 fure  you  do  not  lye  along  upon  the  ground,  crying  and 
 bewailing  your  misfortune  \  nor  ftand  amazed  in  your 
 errour,  complaining  that  you  have  beenfo  miferably 
 mif-  led.  For  I  am  certain  this  will  do  you  more  harm 
 than  good ,  and  give  your  enemies  fuch  advantage 
 againft  you,  that  they  will  double  their  laughter  ac 
 your  folly  ;  firft  for  your  fall,  and  then  for  your  lying 
 along,oi  atanding  ftill  after  you  were  caft  down.    And 
 
 truly 
 
Tin  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  ,  $  ? 
 
 truly  I  am  of  the  opinion,  that  your  fail  will  not  do 
 them  fo  much  fervice  as  your  lying  (till :  and  that  they ' 
 will  not  clap  their  hands  lo  much  to  fee  you  down,  as 
 to  fee  that  you  have  no  heart  to  rife,  but  go  abouc  to 
 bury  your  i'elf  in  forrow.  If  you  would  deject  them, 
 and  fpoil  their  mirth,  lift  up  your  felf  from  the  earth  5 
 and  when  you  are  upon  your  legs  again,  remember  for 
 what  end  they  are  beftowed  upon  you.  Proceed  for- 
 ward I  mean  in  your  Journey  as  faft  as  you  can,  and  do 
 not  think  it  is  to  any  purpofe  to  ftand  looking  into 
 your  wounds,  and  weeping  into  your  fores.  For  be- 
 fides  that  all  that  time  you  make  no  progrefs  in  your 
 way,  the  wounds  themfelves  alfo  are  made  more  angry, 
 and  you  hinder  the  fpeedinefs  of  the  Cure.  Provide 
 therefore  that  they  be  inftantly  bound  up,  that  the 
 parts  may  clofe  and  unite  together,  that  your  ftrength 
 may  return,  and  your  Journey  may  be  continued  with 
 as  much  courage  and  alacrity  as  it  was  begun.  Buc 
 immoderate  grief,  Iaflureyou,  will  never  fuffer  this  5 
 which  will  rather  keep  the  wounds  open,  make  your 
 weaknefs  greater,  and  caufe  the  ftcp,  which  hath  been 
 occasioned  by  your  fall  to  laft  longer.  I  know  your 
 Enemies  will  be  always  calling  this  mifcarriage  in 
 your  teeth,  and  be  calling  upon  you  to  remember  the 
 place  where  they  tript  up  your  heels :  but  whatfoever 
 they  fay,  do  not  think  your  felf  obliged  to  be  conti-' 
 nually  turning  your  head  that  way,  nor  to  be  ever 
 looking  back  upon  your  lapfe  and  your  pain.  For  they 
 intend  nothing  elfe  but  to  detain  you  in  your  cou-  fe : 
 and  if  they  cannot  freez  your  blood,  and  make  you 
 ffcind  ftock  ftill  in  a  cold  amazement,  yet  they  hope 
 hereby  to  diffpirit  your  Soul,  and  render  you  fo  dull, 
 lompifh,  and  unfit  for  travel,  that  you  (hall  move  but 
 a  very  flow  p?ace  in  the  way  to  Jerujklem.  B&  noc  ig- 
 B  b  noranc 
 
1 86  "The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim: 
 
 norant  therefore,  Ibefeechyou,  of  thefe  devices,  but 
 take  heed  left  they  make  as  great  advantage  of.  your 
 forro  w,  as  they  could  of  your  tin.  So  you  be  drowned 
 and  fwallowed  up,  they  care  not  whether  it  be  by  over 
 much  pleafure,  or  by  over  much  grief.  They  can  fer ve 
 themfelves  of  your  fpiritual  trouble  and  affliction  of 
 mind,  as  well  as  of  your  carnal  delights,  and  bodily  in- 
 joyments.  They  can  make  ufe  of  either  to  draw  you 
 from  God ;  or  at  leaft  if  by  the  one  they  draw  you  away 
 from  him,  they  will  labour  by  the  other  to  keep  you 
 from  returning  back  unto  him. 
 
 Nay,  Tie  tell  you  a  fetch  they  have  beyond  this. 
 When  they  haveimmerfed  you  as  deep  as  they  can  in 
 forro  w,  if  they  perceive  you  are  aware  of  their  defign, 
 and  that  you  refolve  not  to  fink  any  further,  nor  to  be 
 overwhelmed  with  it ;  then  will  they  make  that  for- 
 row  which  you  have  already  felt ,  to.  be  the  inftru- 
 ment  of  plunging  you  into  a  new  gulph  5  of  which  you 
 did  not  fo  much  as  dream.  They  will  take  that  very 
 part  upon  them,  which  you  your  felf  mould  have  acted 
 before ,  and  tell  you  that  it  was  very  ill  done  to  fpend 
 fo  much  of  your  precious  time  in  unprofitable  grief. 
 They  will  call  you  Fool  for  your  labour,  in  afflicting 
 ycur  Soul  fo  long.  They  will  perfwade  you,  it  was  a 
 new  fin  to  wafte  thofe  hours  in  bewailing  your  offence*, 
 which  fliould  have  been  imployed  in  amending  of 
 them.  And  therefore  it  is  but  neceffary  that  I  warn 
 you  again  to  be  before-  hand  with  them,  and  to  fecure 
 this  weapon  for  your  own  ufc.  Keep  it,  I  fay,  in  your 
 own  power,  left  if  they  wreft  it  from  you,  it  ferve 
 them  in  due  feafon  to  wound  you  withal.  Let  your 
 Soul  know  from  your  felf,  that  it  is  not  fit  to  ftand 
 wringing  your  hands  when  you  fliould  be  uficg  them 
 
The  far  able  of  the  fllgrlm.  ,$- 
 
 in  your  work  $   and  do  not  ftay  to  hear  this  from  your 
 Enemies  mouth:     Do  not  let  them  have  the  content- 
 ment to  fee  you  caft  down  fo  immoderately  by  your 
 own  means,  that  if  you  rife,  it  may  be  only  to  fall  again 
 by  theirs.    But  put  them  to  as  great  an  affliction  by 
 the  difcovery  of  their  practices,   as  they  would  have 
 made  you  indure  by  the  fuccefs  of  them.    Let  them 
 know  that  your  errour  mail  only  make  you  take  the 
 greater  heed  ;   that  you  mean  to  go  the  fatter  by  your 
 fall,  and  to  recompence  your  remilnefs  with  an  higher 
 zeaf.    But  as  for  affliction  and  forrow,  that  you  will 
 referve  your  felf  for  them  t.ll  a  time  when  they /hall 
 be  more  profitable  than  now,  that  you  have  a  mind  to 
 be  doing  better  than  ever.     Tell  them  that  you  do  not 
 intend  to  ingage  Religion  againft  it  felf,   nor  make  it 
 guilty  of  being  a  hindrance  to  its  own  proper  bufinefs: 
 Give  them  to  underftand,  that  fince  you  have  done 
 your  (elf  fo  much  mifchief  already,  you  will  take  care 
 there  be  no  addition  to  it  by  the  means  of  the  pious 
 pretences  of  deep  Humiliations.     Remember  them 
 effectually  of  the  old  obfervation  which  may  ferve  to 
 quafh  them  in  the  midft  of  their  greateft  triumphs  over 
 you,  viz.  That  thofc  things  which  for  the  time  that  is 
 part,  are  word  of  all,  may  prove  for  the  time  to  come 
 10  be  the  beft.    We  take  advice  for  the  future  of  thofe 
 things  which  are  gone  by  us.  Good  counfels  in  our  af- 
 ter actions  owe  not  a  little  to  the  mifcarriages  of  former 
 days.     Our  follies  teach  us  Wifdom,  and  by  lapfes  we 
 learn  to  go  more  fteadily. 
 
 And  if  they  continue  dill  to  infult  and  to  make  ado 
 
 about  this  butinefs,  give  not  the  leaft  regard  to  them  ; 
 
 but  call  to  your  Soul  continually,  and  cry,  On,  on,  (my 
 
 Soul )  ftand  not  to  hearken  to  what  they  fay,  look  noc 
 
 Bb  2  back 
 
Tl?e  farahle  of  the  Tilgriml 
 back  again,  gee  thee  forward  as  faft  as  thou  canft  5  and 
 inftead  of  lofing  more  time  by  thefe  dejections  of  fpt- 
 rit ;  let  us  ftudy  by  oar  courage  to  regain  that  which 
 we  have  already  loft.  Nay,  I  would  have  you  to  pro- 
 ceed in  your  courfe,  juft  as  if  nothing  at  all  had  hapned, 
 keeping  Jefa  in  your  mind,  and  a  vehement  renewed 
 defire  and  indeavour  to  continue  in  his  favour ;  which 
 he  is  never  wont  to  deny  thofe3whofe  hearts  are  fincere- 
 ly  bent  to  pleafe  him.. 
 
 And  yet  It  may  happen  after  all  this,  that  you  may 
 meet  with  a  worfe  ufe  that  they  will  make  of  your 
 They  may  take  occafion  from  thence  to  per- 
 ;ou  ro.be  well  contented  with  fuch  mifcarriages, 
 or  ri  trouble  your  felf  to  amend  fuch  faults  as 
 have  no  remedy.     Their  endeavours  will  not  be  want- 
 ing to  poffefs  you  with  an  opinion,  which  hath  infected. 
 too  many  minds  -r  That  you  cannot  imitate  Jefiw,  but 
 have  undertaken  an  impoilible  task  which  you  will 
 never  be  able  to  perform.     This  they  may  reprefent 
 with  a  great  deal  of  artifice,  and  many  fair  colours:: 
 faying,  Alas  poor  Soul !  in  what  a  vain  and  idle  labour 
 haft  thou  engaged  thy  felf?   what  meaneft  thou  thus 
 to  ftf  ain  thy  wings  in  afpiring  to  that  which  no  Crea- 
 ture on  earth  can  reach  <   Doft  thou  think  to  be  like 
 the  Son  of  God  '.   Towifhtobefogood,  is  the  higheft 
 perfection  of  humane  weaknefs.    But  to  go  about  it, 
 is  only  to  make  a  more  large  difcovery  of  that  natural 
 frailty.     It  isa  pattern  too  illuftrious  for  thee  to  look 
 epon,  much  more  to  follow*    It  belongs  not  to  meer 
 men  to  be  fuch  great  Undertakers.    Thou  mayeft  as 
 well  think  to  work  miracles,    as  defign  to  imitate  his 
 ■  Vertues.     It  lies  not  within  the  compafs  of  Flefti  and 
 Blood  to  become  fo  fpiritual  and  divine-     And  if 
 
 thou 
 
Tl?e  Taxable  of  the  fdgrim.  \  go 
 
 thou  hadft  not  already  forgotten  thy  falls,  thou  couldft: 
 not  dream  of  railing  thy  fell  to  fo  high  a  pitch.  Can  any 
 heart  put  up  fuch  affronts  with  patience  as  thou  meetcft 
 withal  <  W  ho  can  indure  fuch  Abstinence,  or  cxercife 
 fuch  Charity,  or  praclife  fuch  Meekness  as  thou  feeft 
 in  Jejus  f  Sit  down,  vain  man,  and  comfort  thy  felfin 
 this,  that  he  hath  done  fo  worthily.  Ic  is  enough  to 
 praife  and  extol  fuch  perfections  i  but  it  is  too  much  to 
 arrive  at  them.  There  is  no  man  in  his  wits  would 
 trouble  himfelf  about  a  bufinefs,  though  he  apprehend 
 his  obligations  never  fo  great  that  prefs  him  to  it;  when 
 he  hath  io  good  an  excufe  as  this  at  hand,  that  it  is  not 
 pofliblc  to  be  erTe&ed. 
 
 I  cannot  ftay  to  tell  you  the  long  fpceches  that  they 
 will  detain  you  withal  in  this  Argument.  Only  you 
 may  know  that  there  is  no  Theme  more  eafie  and 
 plaufible  than  this,  wherein  to  dilate  themfelves :  and 
 therefore  you  may  expert  a  world  of  fpecious  reafons 
 to  induce  you  to  believe  that  no  man  can  obey  the 
 Commands  of  Chrift,  or  follow  his  great  Example. 
 Which  perfwa/Ton,  if  they  can  by  any  means  in- 
 ftill  into  your  Soul,  I  rauft  affure  you  before-hand, 
 that  it  wilt  prove  the  moft  dangerous  temptation  that 
 ever  made  an  afTault  upon  you.  It  will  cut  (  aslmiy 
 fofpeak)  the  very  fmevvsof  your  Spirit,  and  cramp 
 your  Soul,  fo  that  you  will  never  be  able  to  travel  to 
 Jerufakm.  This  infufion  will  not  only'difcourage  you, 
 but  perfectly  benum  you,  and  make  you  languid]  in 
 a  perpetual  lethargy.  The  opinion  of  Nectffity  doth 
 not  mce  quicken  and  excite  us,  than  that  of  imfoffibi- 
 litv  doth  deaden  and  dif-fpirit  u;  in  any  underrating. 
 And  therefore  now  if  ever,  you  muft  run  as  fart  a?  you 
 '  can  to  the  extract  which  I  gave  you.     You  muft  take 
 
 a  good 
 
a  goocF draught  of  thofc  inlivening  fpirits  which  I  conv 
 needed,  and  are  endofed  in  thac  lenience  which  you 
 muft  carry  along  with  you.  You  muft  repeat  it  again 
 and  again  >  /  defire  nothing  but  Jefa,  nothing  but  Jefus. 
 He  hath  filled  my  Soul  with  a  purpofe  to  go  to  him.  He 
 hath  infpired  me  with  ftrong  refolutions  to  follow  after 
 him.  And  fure  he  will  not  fail  to  be  my  help,my  ftrength 
 and  my  falvation. 
 
 And  here  let  me  befeech  you  to  confider  diligently 
 before- hand,  that  they  are  his  own  words  to  his  Dif- 
 ciples  juft  before  he  left  the  World :  /  have  given  you 
 
 Jo  3. !  **  an  example,  that  you  fbould  do  as  I  have  done  to  you : 
 And  how  that  one  of  thofe  perfons  hath  alfo  told  us, 
 
 1  Pet.  3. 2 1.  That  he  left  us  an  example  that  rvejhould 'follow  hujlept. 
 To  what  end,  I  pray  ycu ,  did  he  give  us  that 
 which  we  cannot  take  *,  What  are  we  the  better  for 
 the  Copy  which  he  hath  left,  if  it  be  fuch  as  we  can- 
 not tranferibe  i  Did  he  intend  to  brave  us,  rather 
 than  inftruft  us  by  his  actions  ?  Were  they  meant  to 
 upbraid  our  imbecillity ,  and  not  to  infpire  us  with 
 courage  and  ftrength  '.  Inftead  of  provoking  our  fpi- 
 rits, were  they  only  defigned  to  make  our  ambition 
 defpair  i  And  when  he  fhould  have  awakened  our  di- 
 ligence, did  he  only  come  to  aftonifh  us  with  wonders, 
 and  caft  our  Souls  into  a  ftupifying  admiration  ?  Thefe 
 _  are  bafe  and  lewd  fuppofals,  of  which  the  ancient  Pil- 
 grims did  never  fo  much  as  dream.  They  thought 
 they  faw  in  him  what  mortal  men  by  the  Grace  of 
 God  might  hope  to  attain.  They  looked  upon  him  as 
 the  advancer  of  humane  Nature,  not  only  in  his  own 
 perfon,  but  alfo  in  all  thofe  who  would  undertake  to 
 follow  him.  They  were  encouraged  and  inflamed  by 
 beholding  him  to  imitate  his  Heavenly  life  :  and  by  his 
 
 Grace 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim".  1 9 1 
 
 Grace  have  left  us  thcmfelves  as  inftances  and  ex- 
 amples of  that  excellent  Virtue  which  Believers  on 
 Jeius  may  come  unto.  They  imitated  him  fo  happily, 
 that  they  themfelves  are  become  Originals.  They 
 cry  out  aloud  unto  us,  that  we  fliould  befol/owerseflCoT'11'1' 
 them j  as  they  were  of  ch rift.  And  muft  we  now  (land 
 only  gazing  upon  them  5  and  fpend  our  time  in 
 commending  the  Piety  of  ancient  days?  Muft  we 
 think  that  thofe  were  priviledged  Ages  which  were 
 attended  withfucha  Grace  that  doth  not  defcend  up- 
 on future  fucceflions  i  Did  the  favours  of  Heaven  die 
 with  thofe  great  Souls?  Muft  we  feek  for  Chriftians 
 only  under  their  mines,  and  in  their  Monuments ".  Muft 
 we  adore  their  Reliques  in  Books,  and  pleafe  our  felves 
 in  Idea's,  and  Patterns  of  things  which  we  cannot  imi- 
 tate I  Is  it  enough  that  we  live  in  a  profound  fleep,  if 
 it  be  but  interrupted  fometimes  with  pleafant  vifions  ? 
 Do  they  fpeak  only  to  the  firft-born  Children  of 
 Chrift,  when  they  fay,  Brethren,  he  followers  together  W"1'*-1?' 
 of  us,  and  mark  them  which  walk  ft,  as  yon  have  us  for 
 an  enfample  1  Was  it  the  priviledge  of  their  birth- 
 right to  be  fo  good,  and  muft  we  be  contented  to  re- 
 main bad  i  Are  we  fuch  puifnees  that  muft  expect  no 
 portion  of  Divine  Grace,  or  think  of  being  followers  j^EPhef*  *  u) 
 God  at  dear  children  of  his1:  For  the  love  of  God  lee 
 us  not  think  that  his  treafures  are  exhaufted,  or  that 
 he  is  weary  of  his  firft  munificence.  His  arm  is  no 
 fhorter  than  it  was,  nor  are  his  hands  lefs  open.  He  is 
 ftill  willing  to  difpenfe  his  largelTes,  and  to  make  us 
 know  that  they  did  not  end  with  thofe  Ages.  Let  us  , 
 rouze  up  our  felves  therefore,  and  not  lofe  the  benefits 
 of  Heaven,  by  thinking  we  cannot  have  them.  Lee 
 us  not  impute  to  it  fuch  an  unkindnefs  of  giving  us  fo 
 high  an  example,,  that  it  might  oblige  us  to  an  unprofi- 
 table 
 
,»t  The  Paralle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 taV>le  trouble.  Thefe  are  the  old  fubtilties  of  tht 
 Seipent,  v^hich  the  Heathen  Divines  have  detected  as 
 well  as  we.  ThePhilofophers  themfelves  were  haunt- 
 ed with  thefe  clamours,  and  the  people  rang  this  con-" 
 tinually  in  their  ears,  Ic  is  impoffible  to  follow  fuch 
 examples  as  you  propcfe.  But  they  fet  themfelveS 
 ftoutly  againft  this  fluggimnefs.  They  purfued  mens 
 fouls  that  made  thefe  excufes,  and  ferreted  them  out 
 of  fuch  pretences  wherein  they  fought  to  burrow,  and 
 to  make  a  Sanctuary  for  their  lazinefs.  You  imagine, 
 faith  one  of  them,  that  thofe  things  cannot  be  done, 
 which  you  do  not.  You  will  needs  have  them  far  to 
 furmount  the  nature  of  man,  becaufe  you  will  not  be 
 at  the  pains  to  acquire  them.  How  much  better  do  I 
 think  of  you,  than  you  do  of  your  felves  i  I  honour 
 you  fo  far,that  I  am  of  the  mind  you  can  be  fo  good,  but 
 only  you  will  not  apply  your  felves  unto  it.  For,  Who 
 is  there  that  hath  made  a  trial  with  all  his  heart,  thac 
 failed  in  the  attempt ?  Who  hath  buckled  himfelf  to 
 the  work,  that  was  deftitute  of  ftrength  <  to  whom 
 have  not  thefe  things  appeared  more  eafie  in  the  aft, 
 than  in  the  imagination  ?  The  very  truth  of  the  bufi- 
 nefs  is,  That  it  it  not  becaufe  thy  are  fo  difficult  that  vce 
 dare  not  enter  upon  thefe  things  ;  but  becaufe  rve  dare 
 not  enter  upon  themy  therefore  they  are  difficult.  We 
 affright  our  felves  with  imaginary  hardfhips :  and  this 
 fear  magnifies  objects,  and  infinitely  multiplies  every 
 individual.  Be  but  pleafed  refolutely  to  undertake  the 
 task,  and  you  mall  find  it  as  fweet  and  eafie  as  now  ic 
 feems  harm  and  formidable.  Do  but  think  that  all 
 thingsyield  to  h3rdlabour,andyou  have  overcome  the 
 greateft  difficulties  by  that  one  thought. 
 
 )    Do  you  hear,  Sir,  w  hat  this  perfon  faith  ?  Shall  we 
 
 not 
 
T?;e  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  i  p  j 
 
 •not  have  as  much  courage  as  Heathens  ?  Is  there  not 
 lb  much  of  God  remaining  among  us,  as  infpired  them 
 with  fuch  ftrong  refolutions?  It  fecms  to  me  that  he 
 hath  touched  the  right  firing,  and  Jid  not  we  fupine- 
 ly  negledl  our  felves,  and  forget  even  the  woids  of 
 Jefvs,  we  fliould  conclude,  thzitohim  that  helieveth 
 aII  things  arc  fcfjible .  We  hinder  the  proficiency  of 
 our  Souls  in  Piety,  juftasmendpthe  advancement  of 
 good  Learning.  There  are  few  that  understand  (  as 
 perhaps  you  have  heard  it  obferved)  either  the  Eftatc 
 they  pofiefs,  or  their  Abilities  to  purchale  more :  but 
 they  think  the  one  is  greater ,  and  the  other  lefs 
 than  indeed  they  are.  So  it  comes  to  pafs,  that  over- 
 prizing what  they  have  already  acquired,  they  make 
 no  furiher  fearch,  nor  think  of  a  due  progrefs :  or  un- 
 dervaluing the  power  that  God  hath  given  them,  they 
 expend  their  Strength  and  force,  in  things  oflelTer 
 confequence,  and  make  no  experiment  of  thofe  which 
 are  the  higheft  and  nobleft  improvement  of  their 
 minds.  They  content  themfelves  to  read  and  pray, 
 and  corrfefs  their  fins  5  and  take  thefe  for  the  beft  at- 
 tainments of  Christians.  Thefe  are  the  fxtd  pillars^ 
 beyond  which  they  have  no  hopes  to  penetrate.  Here 
 they  make  a  ftand,  when  they  mould  go  on  to  all 
 others  actions  of  an  Holy  Life.  They  run  round  in  a 
 perpetual  circle  of  thefe  Duties,  when  they  Should 
 move  forward  to  a  compleat  imitation  of  their  Blef- 
 fed  Saviour.  Rouze  up  your  felf  therefore,  I  befeech 
 you,  and  do  not  defpair  by  his  affiftance  of  following 
 the  great  Example  which  he  and  his  Holy  Ones  have 
 left  us.  As  the  opinion  men  have  of  their  wealth  is 
 the  caufe  of  want ;  fo  the  conceit  of  an  incurable  weak- 
 nefs,  is  the  caufe  that  we  do  no  better.  They  that 
 are  gone  before  us,  have  not  left  us  to  figh  and  mourn 
 C  c  that 
 
x  ^  Tlx  farabk  of  the  Tdgrim, 
 
 that  we  cannot  go  after  them.  They  have  nor  robbed' 
 us  of  all  the  Glory  of  doing  well.  We  in  this  prefent 
 Age,  if  we  do  but  ftir  up  the  Grace  of  God  which  is 
 in  us,  need  not  degenerate  from  the  brave  examples  of 
 our  predeceflbrs.  Let  us  but  look  upon  them  sow , 
 and  in  good  time  we  may  look  upon  our  felves.  As 
 their  example  will  incourage  and  excite  our  fouls  at  pre- 
 fent ,  fo  hereafter  we  /hall  draw  much  fpirit  from  our 
 own.  Having  done  fo  well  at  nrft,  we  fhall  blufh  not 
 to  do  better  afterward.  And  while  we  imitate  others, 
 we  (lull  at  kail  mdeavour  with  all  our  might  to  excel, 
 our  felves.. 
 
 I  can  fee  no  hinderance  that  lies  in  our  way  but  on- 
 ly  our  own  lazinefs,  together  with  this  weak  perfwa- 
 fion  wherewith  our  enemies  labour  to  poffefs  us :  That 
 becaufe  the  buftnefs  is  not  presently  d>ne,  it  is  not  likely 
 to  be  done  at  all.  And  yet  to  fay  the  truth,  I  think 
 that  our  Idlenefs  is  to  bear  the  blame  of  this  perfwa> 
 fionalfo;  for  otherwife  we  (hall  never  entertain  fuch 
 unreafonable  apprehenfions.  There  are  a  great  num- 
 ber of  men  that  would  do  well,  if  they  had  but  the 
 courage  to  indure  for  a  few  days.  They  have  eager 
 motions,  or  rather  furious  paflions^,  and  if  the  bufc 
 nefs  could  be  done  in  a  moment,  or  in  that  fit,  there 
 -  would  not  be  braver  men  than  they.  But  they  are 
 not  willing  to  cafry  on  a  defign  of  any  length:  they 
 cannot  hold  out  to  make  a  work  and  a  labour  of  be- 
 coming good:  and  fo  their  flothful  humour  nukes 
 them,  after  the  firft  attempt,  to  give  back,  and  to  cry 
 out,  to  be  better  than  me  are  it  is  impcjfible.  A  long 
 march  after  our  Saviour  is  a  Bug-bear  that  affrights 
 them.  A  tedious  War  with  their  enemies  quite  dif- 
 ipirits  them.    They  are  loth  to  be  at  the  pains  of  fub- 
 
 duing 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  $ilgnm.  1  p  r 
 
 firing  many  refinances ,  and  undergoing  a  Jaboi  ious 
 and  continued  courfe  of  deft; eying  their  oppofers. 
 They  would  not  be  fouldkrs  all  their  life  j  nor  ever 
 ingagedina  combatc with  their  Adverfaries.  They 
 fee  their  (ins,  but  they  eifhf  r  feem  lb  great,  that  they 
 imagine  they  cannot  be  vauquiGicd :  or  at  lead  they 
 will  not  be  at  the  trouble  of  it,  if  it  cannot  be  done  in 
 aninfhnt.  After  thefirft  on-fer,  which  is  commonly 
 very  violent,  they  are  went  to  cool  and  make  a  retreat 
 if  they  meet  with  any  d  fficulties.  They  would  have 
 all  effected  now,  and  nothing  left  to  be  done  to  mcr- 
 tow.  They  do  not  care  for  overcoming  their  enemies, 
 but  they  had  rather  end  the  War  with  them ;  or  if 
 they  muft  fight,  it  (hall  be  but  one  Battle.  They 
 would  not  be  at  the  trouble  of  getting  the  better  of 
 any  oppofttion ;  but  they  wifli  there  were  none,  or 
 that  it  were  foon  removed.  They  love  the  peace 
 which  will  follow  the  victory,  but  they  have  no  lift  to 
 obtain  it  by  a  prolonged  War.  They  would  have 
 their  Adverfaries  yield  without  many  blows,  and  are 
 content  to  engage  but  once  for  all  againft  them.  In 
 this  encounter  you  would  not  think  there  were  to  be 
 found  any  fouls  that  are  more  couragious.  They  are 
 all  on  fire,  and  you  would  take  them  to  be  more  than 
 men.  But  it  is  their  idlenefs  and  iloth  that  makes 
 them  thus  active.  Itistheircowardife,  and  not  their 
 valour  that  puts  them  into  fuch  a  fury.  It  is  becaufc 
 they  would  have  no  more  to  do  •,  but  only  to  enjoy 
 their  eafc,  and  take  their  repofe.  They  had  rather 
 have  nothing  at  all  to  do  ;  but  if  they  muft  imploy 
 their  Arms,  they  defirc  initantly  to  lay  them  afide 
 again.  You  miftake  them  if  you  think  they  have  a 
 mind  fo  much  as  to  conquer,  and  triumph,  and  reign ; 
 all  they  deiire  is  only  to  live,  and  be  in  quiet.  But  if 
 C  c  2  they 
 
iy  &  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgr'm. 
 
 tficymuft  needs  overcome,  and  they  cannot  other  wife 
 have  their  wifhes ;  they  would  doit  prefently  and  by 
 once  taking  pains  ever  after  have  leave  CO  play.  Do 
 not  therefore  deceive  your  felf ;  nor  take  a  mea'ure  ei- 
 ther of  their  courage,  or  of  the  fuccefs  by  one  impref- 
 fion  upon  your  enemies.     Ton  have  need  of  patience  (if 
 
 Heb.  10.36.  y0U  yfi\\  be  a  follower  otjefus)  that  after  you  have 
 done  the  will of  God } yon  may  inherit  his  promises.  This 
 is  a  Vertue  which  is  abfolutely  necelTary  in  all  great  t:n- 
 terprifes,  but  in  none  more  than  in  this  noble  under- 
 taking which  you  have  in  hand.  If  this  be  wanting, 
 you  muft  needs  ftay  fliort  oijerufalem  ;  but  if  you  be 
 armed  with  it,  you  need  not  delpair  of  executing  the 
 plealureof  Jefus,  and  having  the  favour  of  feeing  him 
 
 Jam.  1. 4.  there.  Let  it  but  have  its  perfect  worked  then  yon  will 
 be  perfect ^  intire,  and  wanting  nothing.  By  this  the 
 firjf  Pilgrim  which  I  told  you  of,   came  happily  to  his 
 
 Heb.  6. 1 5.  journeys  end-,for,4f/>rr  Abraham  had  patiently  indured, 
 he  obtained  the  promife.  And  if  you  inquire  of  all  that 
 fucceeded,  you  will  hear  this  language  from  every  oae 
 1  " V'  n'  of  them,  Be  not  flothful,  but  followers  of  them  who 
 thrcughfaith  and  patience  inherit  the  promifes. Where- 
 fore being  incompaffed  with  a  cloud  of  witnefles,  and 
 
 Heb.i 2.1,2,3  having  on  every  fide  fo  many  glorious  examples  run 
 '  with  patience  the  Race  fet  before  ynt,  looking  (especial- 
 ly) unto  Jefus  the  Author  andfinifber  of  your  Faith,  who 
 for  the  Joy  fet  before  him,enduredthe  Crofs.defpifmg  the 
 fbame,andis  fet  down  at  the  right  hand  of God.For^on- 
 fider  him  that  endured  fuch  contrtdiftion  of  finners 
 againft  him fe  If  left  yon  be  wearied  and  faint  in  your 
 mind. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
77:<r  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ^ 
 
 CHAP.    XX. 
 
 Bbito  t  ,j:y  will  inde  avour  to  puff  him  up  with  a  Spiritual 
 pride.  A  description  of  one  of  our  conceited  Believers^ 
 And  alfo  of  a  certain  Artificial  Religion  which  de- 
 ceives many* 
 
 AN  D  now  if  they  fee  that  your  Will  to  him  is  (o- 
 ftrongly  let,  and  your  He  .rt  touched  fo  power- 
 fully with  his  love,  that  neither  by  Poverty  nor  fick- 
 nefsjby  Fancies  and  Fears,  by  Penwaiion  nor  Violence, 
 no  nor  by  fins  neither,  it  can  be  hindred  from  going  to 
 him ;  they  will  grow  extream  angry,  and  you  may  ex- 
 pect the  very  laft  affault  of  an  imaged  enemy,  which 
 commonly  is  worfe  than  all  the  reft.  Nothing  can 
 more  provoke  their  fpirits,  than  to  find  that  all  they 
 fay  is  flighted  and  dif-  regarded.  There  arc  no  words 
 you  can  fpeak  of  them  that  they  efteem  fo  reviling,  as 
 thefcorn  you  put  upon  them  by  not  hearkening  to  any 
 of  their  words  to  ycu.  It  will  incenfe  them  to  take  a 
 fudden  revenge,  when  they  fee  you  fo  obftinately  re- 
 folved,  as  to  force  your  way  through  the  midft  of  all  . 
 the  difficulties  wherewith  they  furround  you.  This 
 will  neeefficatc  them  to  invent  a  new  method  to  fur- 
 prife  you,  and  to  lay  their  trains  in  a  way  quite  diffe- 
 rent from  the  preceding:  which,  though  they  may 
 feem  not  hard  to  dilcover,  yet  have  m.re  of  malice, 
 if  not  of  Craft,than  any  other.  For  now  it  is  poflible 
 they  will  feign  a  compliance  with  you,  and  make  as  if 
 they  neither  could,  nor  had  a  mind  any  longer  to  re- 
 fill: ycu.  They  will  commend  your  conftancie,  and 
 praife  your  refolutc  mind,    and  indeavour  to  make  you 
 
 believe 
 
Ip8  Tlie  farMe  cf  the  (Pilgrim. 
 
 believe  that  they  are  To  fcnfibleof  it,   th.it  they  will 
 forbear  to  trouble  you.     Nay,  tofuchacomplaifance 
 wi.l  they  form  themfelves,    that  you  (lull  hear  no  more 
 of  the  badnefs  and  difficulty  of  the  way  wherein  you 
 are  ^  but  they  will  fay,  it  isexcellent,  eafie,  and  void  of 
 all  dangers,    which  are  now  difheartned  from  prefent- 
 ing  themfelves  to  a  mind  that  is  only  refolved  to  over- 
 come them.     By  this  means  they  will  fecretly  labour 
 tocaufea  very  good  opinion  of  your  felf  to  deal  into 
 ycur  mind,   and  ftudy  to  blow  you  up  into  an  empty 
 conceit  of  your  own  worth  and  fufHciency.     They  will 
 bring   before  you  all  the  good  deeds  that  you  have 
 done,  anddifplay  ycur  Victories beFore  your  eyes,  and 
 let  you  know  what  a  gallant  perfon  you  are  accounted. 
 They  will  tell  you  how  all  men  admire  you ;    that  the 
 whole  world  mud  needs  love  you,   and  have  you  in 
 great  eilcem  for  your  piety  •    yea,  even  venerace  the 
 lancYity  of  your  Converfation.    They  will  not  ipare  to 
 fay  that  you  have  fhown  fuch  love  to  Jeftts  as  none  can 
 equal,    and  efpecially  that  your  courage  and  valour  is 
 foeminentthat  it  is  above  their  praifes.     And  all  this 
 with  a  great  deal  more  they  will  fuggeft  unto  you, 
 only  to  breed  in  you  as  lofty  an  efteemof  your  p^ety 
 as  they  perfwade  you  others  mult  needs  have  of  it ; 
 an<i  to  puff  you  up  with  fuch  vain  joy,  that  you  may 
 pleafe  your  felf  in  your  felf,    to  forget  to  go  forward 
 to  Jeritfa/em.     But  if  you  tender  at  all  your  own  wel- 
 fare and  would  not  mifcarry  after  you  have  done  fo 
 worthily,  hold  all  this  for  an  illufion  and  dangerous 
 piece  of  flattery.  Look  upon  it  as  a  deadly  poifon  under 
 the  taftc  of  honey,  and  fo  throw  it  away  :  faying,  I  will 
 havenoneof  )t:    I  AM  NOUGHT,  I  HAVE 
 N  O  U  G  H  T,Do  not  think  to  pleafe  me  with  this  dif- 
 (embled  fweetnefs,  for  that  which  1  defire  is  nothing 
 
 more 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Vtlgrim.  ,  9  9 
 
 ftort    OF   THE    PE  AC  E .  which  is  promifcdto 
 pear  Jermfdiem* 
 
 And  here  I  mould  have  en:red  a  ferious  cauti.:n- 
 againft  Spiritual  Pride,  and  a  -vain  conceit  of  your  own 
 abilities,  with  which  mod  of  the  world  is  infe&ed  ; 
 but  rhat  is  included  already  in  the  general  advice  thac 
 I  have  given  you  :  and  beiides  I  fee  you  are  fo  hu  uble 
 as  to  become  a  learner.  It  may  Teem  indeed  a  thing 
 worthy  of  little  or  no  praiiefor  thofe  who  are  Igno- 
 rant to  come  to  be  inftrucled  ;  but  there  arc  few  I 
 afiure  you  of  our  contentious  Christians,  though  never 
 fo  filly,  who  are  yet  arrived  at  this  perfection.  They 
 think  themfelves  fit  not  only  to  difpute  with  their  Mi- 
 nifter,  but  to  be  his  Teachers.  They  are  his  Matters 
 lather  than  his  Scholars:  and  they  do  not  only  call 
 him  in  queftion,  but  boldly  deliver  their  opinion  of 
 him.  If  they  had  fo  much  modefty  and  fenfe  of  Chri- 
 stian duty  left,  as  to  bring  their  doubts  to  him  about 
 what  he  fays,  it  could  not  but  be  efteemed  a  com- 
 mendable care  of  their  foul?.  But  alas !  they  are 
 grown  to  that  degree  of  infolence,  and  are  fo  mon- 
 frroufly  arrogant,  that  they  have  poffeiTei  themfelves 
 of  the  Chair,  and  fit  as  Judges  of  his  Sermons.  What 
 elie  means  the  rebukes  which  they  meet  withal,  the 
 hafly  cenfures  which  are  palled  upon  them,  and  the 
 Magisterial  fentence  which  is  inftandy  pronounced 
 witiifuchaperemptorinefs,  as  if  there  lay  no  appeal 
 from  the  Bar  of  their  understanding?  It  haih  been 
 my  hard  hap  to  converfe  with  many  of  them,  and 
 among  the  reft  I  fell  into  the  company  of  one  the 
 Other  cay,  whofpake  of  his  Guide  with  fuch  a  (com,, 
 and  condemned  his  Sermons  wiih  fo  much  confidence, 
 and  laught  fo  loudly  at  his  Ignorance,   and  likewife 
 
 cavilled. 
 
jgQ'o  The  ?P  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 cavilled  fo  impertinently  at  his  expreflions  when  he 
 had  nothing  to  lay  againft-'the  fenle  of  what  he  had     I 
 fpoken,    that  a  well-diipofcd  man  (though  a  little 
 hercejfaid,  lie  had  feme  doubt  whether  the  Devil  did     | 
 not  appear  unto  us  to  try  if  he  could  infect  us  with 
 the  leproiie  of  his  Pride  and  Paflion.     And  indeed  I 
 thought  that  1  never  law  thole  things  more  evident  in 
 any  man,  except  it  was  in  another  of  the  lame  fort  who 
 came  to  cheat  us  (  as  a  neighbour  of  mine  laid  J  in  the 
 maps  of  an  Angel  of  Light.     T  his  Perfon  after  a  great 
 many  godly  expreflions,  whereby  it  is  like  he  deceived 
 himielf  into  an  opinion  of  his  Saintlhip,  fell  into  a  kind 
 of  Chriitian  companion ^   and  feemed  to  have  his 
 Bowels  yerning  over  his  Teacher ;  laying,  Alas  poor 
 man  1   my  foul  is  grieved  for  him  :    He  is  lb  weak  and 
 unqualified  for  the  work  he  hath  undertaken.     He  is 
 utterly  void  of  the  Spirit ,    and  understands  not  the 
 workings  of  it  in  the  hearts  of  Gods  people.    I  can 
 never  think  of  him  but  it  pities  me  to  fee  how  much 
 he  is  in  the  dark  5    a  Stranger  to  the  power  of  Godli- 
 nefs ,  and  the  myfteries  of  the  Covenant  of  Grace. 
 Poor  Soul !    who  puts  us  upon  doing  ( and  they  fay  is 
 careful  of  that  himfelf )  but  knows  not  what  it  is  to 
 believe.    Is  it  not  a  great  happinefs.  Sir,  that  wc  have 
 the  teachings  of  the  Spirit ;    and  that  the  vail  is  taken 
 from  our  eyes  which  Hill  hangs  before  the  men  of  the 
 World  <  Hath  not  Chrift  done  much  for  us,  who  hath 
 made  us  wifer  than  our  Teachers  <—- 
 
 I  could  not  for  my  heart  but  here  interrupt  him 
 ( knowing  that  the  Perfon  whom  he  thus  undervalued 
 was  a  true  lover  of  ourSaviour,  and  excellently  skill'd 
 in  his  Religion  )  or  elle  I  think  we  Ihould  have  heard 
 as  much  in  his  own  praife,  as  we  had  in  the  others  dif- 
 
 com- 
 
T\n  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  2  o  t 
 
 commendation.  Buc  the  truth  is,  I  never  heard  any 
 thing  fo  fulfome  from  the  mouth  of  man  i  and  found 
 my  felf  far  more  impatient  of  fuch  filthy  fluff,  than  he 
 could  be  of  the  Sermons  at  which  he  exprefled  fo  great 
 diflike.  And,  to  fry  nothing  at  all  of  the  man,  I  can- 
 not but  think  that  this  Spirit  is  the  very  Firft  born  of 
 the  Devil,  the  eldeft  of  all  the  Daughters  of  Pride,  the 
 Prince  of  Darknefs  in  the  garments  of  Light,  the  dregs 
 of  Chriftian  Pharifaifm  which  now  as  much  defpUes 
 Chrifts  Minifters,  as  the  Jewifh  did  Chrift  and  his 
 Apofllcs.  God  I  hope  will  never  fuffer  you  to  fuck  in 
 thispoifonof  the  Serpent,  nor  lick  up  this  vomit  of 
 the  old  Scribes  and  Pharifees.  I  difcern  methinks 
 that  you  are  as  far  from  it ,  as  they  were  from  the 
 Kingdom  of  Heaven  5  or  elfe  I  mould  beftow  more 
 time  upon  you  to  feafon  you  againft  this  leaven,  which 
 will  fowre  the  whole  lump  of  your  Religion,  and  ren- 
 der it  as  orTenfive  to  God  as  it  felf  is  to  all  fober  Chri- 
 stians. But  I  need  not  have  faid  fo  much :  I  muft 
 fuppofc  you  as  empty  of  all  humanity  as  this  difpofition 
 is  of  Chriftianity  5  as  far  from  Reafon,  as  it  is  from  the 
 Spirit  of  God :  or  elfe  hope  that  this  Spiritual  Pride, 
 this  devout  Devil  mail  never  poflefs  ycu.  For  what 
 is  it  butmadnefs  (even  in  the  opinion  ofthofe  men  ) 
 for  one  that  was  never  bred  in  the  myfteries  of  that 
 profeflion,  to  come  into  an  Apothecaries  Shop,  and 
 there  to  condemn  all  his  Drugs  and  Medicines  for  rot- 
 ten and  corrupt,  to  (pic  upon  his  compositions,  and 
 offer  to  throw  them  all  out  of  doors,  as  fit  to  be  min- 
 gled with  the  dirt  K  And  yet  there  is  not  more  fenfe 
 in  the  humour  of  thofe  perfons  that  ufe  the  Sermons 
 they  hear  after  that  fafhion :  which  evidently  proves 
 that  they  deferve  not  the  name  of  Sober,  much  lefs  of 
 Wife  and  Underfhnding  Chriflians.  Though  the 
 D  d  mauet 
 
lQ  i  Tl?e  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 matter  of  fuch  difcourfes  have  been  long  confidered, 
 and  duly  weighed,  and  diligently  compofed  out  of  the 
 Word  of  God;  yet  thefe  men  who  do  not  ponder  j 
 them  fo  many  Minutes  as  their  Indruclors  do  days, 
 and  have  no  more  skill  in  thefe  Matters,  than  in  their 
 neighbours  trades  which  they  never  profeflTed  ;  rejeft 
 them  at  firft  hearing,  befpatter  them  with  their  igno- 
 rant cenfures,  and  (as  if  they  were  in  a  frantickfit) 
 caft  them  our,  as  they  would  fain  do  their  Authors, 
 like  unfavoury  Salt  that  i?  good  for  nothing  but  to  be 
 trodden  under  feet. 
 
 Ic  will  feem  a  wonder  perhaps  unto  you,  that  fuch 
 men  as  thefe  fli3uld  efteem  themfelves  Religious.  How 
 is  it  poflible,  will  you  be  ready  to  fay,  that  fuch  a  no- 
 torious  want  of  Modefty  and   humility  of  Spirit 
 mould  not  make  them   fufpeel:  their   want  of  true 
 Chriftianity  1    Iknow  indeed  that  nothing  is  more 
 confident  than  ignorant  heat,    but  I  marvel  that  in 
 their  cool  moods,  they  do  not  accufe  themfelves  at 
 leaft  of  rafhnefs  and  inconfiderate  zeal.     And  truly  I 
 fhould  ftand  amazed  at  it  too,    did  I  not  know  that 
 there  is  fuch  a  fair  counterfeit  of  Religion  in  the 
 World,  that  not  only  deceives  others,  but  t hole  alio 
 in  whom  it  is.     You  behold  every  day  many  Images 
 which  have  all  the  outward  parts  and  proportions  of 
 men  to  whofe  fimilitude  they  are  exactly  formed.   And 
 perhaps  you  have  heard  of  a  Statue  that  walked  and 
 that  fpoke  alfo ,  wherein  the  Artift  endeavoured  to 
 exprefs  the  motions  of  inward  life.      Which  may 
 ferve  as  a  refemblance  to  you  of  fuch  an  Artificial  Re- 
 ligion,   that  not  only  the  outfice  and  the  g  ub  of  Piety 
 is  repreftntedby  it,   but  there  is  an  imitation  alfo  of 
 the  inward  motions  of  the  foul  in  fuch  afticlions  of 
 
 fear, 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 fear,  and  love,  and  jov5  as  are  in  truly  Religious  hearts. 
 Do  not  think  it  ftrange,  nor  wonder  at  this  which  I  now 
 tell  you,  for  it  is  a  very  great  truth  which  I  thoughc 
 notlafcto  conceal  from  yon.  And  if  y^u  will  have 
 Co  much  patience,  1  will  difcover  to  you  the  trick  of  if, 
 and  mew  you  by  what  mechanical  powers  rhishvelefs 
 Engine  f  for  it  is  no  better )  is  ftirred  and  aclcd  in  the" 
 ways  of  God. 
 
 You  know  the  force  that  Colours,  and  Sounds,  and. 
 fuch  material    Objecls  have  upon  our  fenfes ;    and 
 how  they  excite  a  great  many  motions  in  our  animal 
 fpirits,   without  asking  our  leave,   or  (laying  for  our 
 confent.     You  cannot  be  ignorant  neither  that  thefe, 
 motions  are  in  the  foul  it  fell,   which  hath  refinements : 
 according  to  the  quality  of  thofe  objects  that  it  is  iin- 
 prclfed  withal.     And  again  you  cannot  but  perceive 
 by  my  difcourfe  with  you,  that  the  figures  and  images 
 of  things  may  be  raifed  in  your  fanfie  by  that  means, 
 as  well  as  conveighed  by  the  doors  of  fenfe.     Suppofe 
 then  that  the  beauty  and  lovelinefs  of  Chrift  were  de- 
 fcribed  to  a  company  of  men  in  very  fre(h  colours  and 
 fair  lineaments.     That  he  was  painted  before  their 
 imagination  by  fome  fweet  toned  Orator  as  white  and 
 ruddy,  thechiefeftof  tenthoufand.     That  this  fpeech 
 of  himlhould  be  trimmed  with  nothing  but  gems  and 
 precious  ftones,  rays  and  glories,  odors  and  perfumes, 
 Crowns  and  Diadems  wherewith  he  faith  this  Prince  of 
 GJory,and  Wooer  of  Souls  is  perpetually  adorned.  And 
 then  he  fliould  tell  them  that  his  heart  ftands  open  to 
 them3  that  he  intends  to  lay  them  in  his  very  bofome, 
 that  he  would  fain  embrace  them  in  his  arms,  and  will 
 wath  them  in  his  blood,  make  them  amiable  and  fair  as 
 well  as  himfelf,  put  upon  them  the  robes  of  his  righte-  , 
 D  d  2  *  oufnelSj 
 
 10} 
 
204  "^  f  arable  of  the  Tilgr'tm. 
 
 oufnefs,  c  over  them  with  his  glorious  garments  to  hide 
 all  their  deformities,  and  fo  prelent  them  to  Gcd  with- 
 out (pot  or  blemifn  that  they  may  raign  as  fo  many 
 Kings  with  him  for  ever.  Suppof  e,  I  fay,  that  fuch  a  dii- 
 eourfe  were  made  with  much  affection  (  and  1  believe 
 you  have  fometimes  heard  the  like )  would  it  not  as 
 agreeably  move  the  imagination  of  a  fie  fhly  man,  and 
 be  as  apt  to  touch  his  heart  with  an  inclination  to  this 
 beautiful  perfon  $  as  a  lovely  face  prefented  before  the 
 eyes  doth  give  him  a  pleafure,  and  ftirs  up  a  paflion  in 
 him  toward  it  <  Truly  I  nothing  doubt  but  this  picture 
 of  Chrift  might  imprefsfuch  a  conceit  of  him  in  the 
 fanfie,  as  might  excite  admiration,  defire,  love,  delighr, 
 and  fuch  other  paffions  as  fhall  be  the  imitation  of 
 thofe  that  are  in  pious  fouls  who  are  in  love  with  the 
 Venues  and  Spirit  of  our  Saviour;  He  may  not  at 
 all  fufpect  but  that  he  bears  an  affection  to  the  Lord 
 Jefus,  and  in  great  zeal  anathematize  and  curfe  alt 
 thofe  who  are  not  juft  affected  like  himfelf.  He  will 
 condemn  as  much  as  your  felt"  all  thofe  dull  and  grofs 
 fouls  who  are  imployed  in  fetting  the  poftures  of  the 
 face,  and  amufing  the  World  with  countenances.  He 
 laughs  at  them  who  are  bulled  in  ordering  the  moti- 
 ons of  the  head,  and  bending  the  eyes  to  devotion.  He 
 is  far  above  thefe  actions  of  the  body,  and  feeling  his 
 foul  in  a  devout  pofture,  and  touched  with  Religious 
 paffions,  heknowsnoreafon  why  hefliould  not  think 
 himfelf  to  be  worthy  to  wear  the  name  of  Devout  and 
 Religious. 
 
 And  when  thefe  apprehenfions  and  emotions  fas  we 
 call  them  )  are  once  begotten,  it  is  no  hard  matter  to 
 maintain  and  breed  them  up  to  a  greater  growth.  They 
 may  be  fed  perpetually  with  new  objects  that  yield 
 
 afrcfli 
 
The  f arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  205 
 
 a  frtfh  delight.  The  defcripticn  of  Jerufalem  may  be 
 madefofullof  pleafure,  that  an  earthly  man  may  be 
 ravilkd  therewith.  And  he  heating  alio  certain  figns 
 and  marks  given  of  thofe  who  are  laid  to  have  an  in- 
 terest in  Chrift,  and  {hall  be  Heirs  of  Jerufalem  -7  it  is 
 very  eafie  to  conceive  how  (uch  a  man  may  fet  himfe'tf 
 a  work,firft  to  imprint  his  Fanfie  with  fuch  Characters, 
 and  then  to  form  his  paflions  to  fomc  exprcffion  and 
 Apiili  imitation  of  them.Fan(ic,you  know,hath  a  greac 
 command  over  all  the'palTions,  and  being  acquainted 
 very  well  with  the  way  to  them,  and  the  manner  of 
 awakening  them,  can  call  them  forth  upon  this  occa- 
 fion  as  cafily  as  upon  any  other.  It  can  make  them  as 
 bufie  when  thefe  divine  matters  prelent  themfelves,  as 
 when  fenfible  objects  knock  at  our  doors,  and  demand 
 to  be  admitted  to  our  converfe.  There  are  no  names 
 of  dearnefs  which  men  of  this  (lamp  cannot  beftow 
 upon  Jefus.  They  can  fpeak  of  him  with  an  high 
 pleafure ;  and  pray  in  a  pathetkk  (Vile,  and  not  with- 
 out devout  tranfport.  They  find  a  Love  to  this  kind 
 of  Communion  with  him.  They  can  repyce  to  think 
 of  his  fulnefs  and  fufficiency.  They  can  be  aftonifhed 
 at  the  frcenefs  of  his  Grace.  They  can  mourn  for 
 their  fins,  and  then  call  themlelves  biefled  fori'o  do- 
 ing. Nay,  more  than  this  they  can  excite  the  paflion 
 of  gratitude  in  their  hearts :  and  if  they  hear  withal 
 that  they  muft  be  regenerate  and  born  again,  they 
 can  follow  the  Fanfie  of  that  Co  long,  till  they  think 
 that  they  feel  the  throws  and  pangs  of  the  new  birch, 
 a  change  wrought  in  their  fouls,  and  all  the  reft,  in  the 
 method  and  order  wherein  they  had  it  ddcribed  to 
 them,  vjhey  will  firft  be  caft  down  in  great  humili- 
 tions.  They  will  complain  of  the  naughtinefs  of  their 
 hearts,    and  the  corruptions  of  their  natures.    They 
 
 will 
 
2  o  6  "Ax  Parable  of  t tie  Pilgrim* 
 
 will  loath  and  abhor  then,  !ti\ts  as  abominable  crea- 
 tures. They  will  difclaim  all  their  own  lighteoufnefs 
 and  ftrength,  and  think  of  bringing  their  hearts  to  the 
 Prcmife.  And  if  they  have  heard  any  better  language 
 to  exprefs  this  work,  they  will  bring  themfelves  to  an' 
 imitation  of  all  that  is  contained  in  that  alio.  They 
 will  labour  to  dettft  their  former  courfes,  and  to  make 
 a  choice  of  a  new  life.  They  will  ftrain  themfelves  to 
 (pit  upon  their  (in?,  and  tocaft  a  fmile  ipon  the  ways  of 
 Vcrtue.  They  will  at  lead  offer  themfelves  to  Chrift 
 to  be  formed  anew^and  pray  him  to  make  them  luch  as 
 he  pleafes. 
 
 This  is  one  of  the  Religious  Puppets  of  the  World 
 produced.  This  h  the  beginning  and  progrefs  of  that 
 piece  of  work,  which  a  good  man  now  at  Jerufalem 
 was  wont  to  call  a  Mechanical  Religion.  And  if  you 
 doubt  at  all  whether  or  no  there  be  fuch  an  Artificial 
 Device  as  this,  which  paffes  for  Piety,  do  but  call  to 
 mind  one  thing  which  you  cannot  but  know  if  you 
 have  been  a  perfon  of  any  obfervation,  and  you  (hall  • 
 be  convinced  of  it.  There  ari(es,  you  fee,  very  often  • 
 new  modes  and  fafliions  of  Religion  among  us.  The 
 old  ways  are  much  decried,  and  the  laft  invention  is 
 voted  to  be  altogether  Divine.  Now  if  one  of  thefe 
 perfons  whom  I  havefpokenof  (hall  chance  to  fall  in- 
 to the  acquaintance  of  a  Sect,  that  is  much  different' 
 from  the  prcfent  which  he  hath  long  followed,you  (hall 
 fee  him  eafily  fliift  his  form,  and  fpeedily  turn  into  ano- 
 ther fhape.  He  can  foon  quit  the  way  wherein'  he  was, 
 and  become  religious  after  the  manner  of  this  novel 
 plat- form.  All  the  old  ftgnsand  marks  of  Regenera- 
 tion (hall  (land  for  nothing,  and  now  he  diftinguimes 
 himfelf  from  the  men  of  the  World  by  other  Chara-  - 
 
 clers. 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Tihrim.  icj 
 
 <flers.  Whichis  tin  evident  token  that  he  is  moved  fey 
 the  power  of  imagination,  and  as  external  objects  (hall 
 ftronglyimprefs  themfelves<;  thac  he  hath  no  internal 
 lirc,  but  is  carried  by  the  impulfe  of  foreign  things, 
 which  change  his  motions  at  their  pleafure.  "He  fetms 
 to  himfelfto  be  alive,,  and  to  be  no  Ids  than  divinely 
 acted  ;  but  alas !  he  is  only  a  walking  Ghoft,  as  appears 
 in  this  too  plainly  :  That  like  tho  e  Images  of  living 
 Bodies,  he  can  alter  himfelf  fo  quickly,  and  be  mould- 
 ed into  another  figure.  Such  a  ihadow  of  a  Chriftian, 
 prrhaps,  was  he  that  hath  been  the  occafion  of  all  this 
 ciifcourfe :  whom  we  are  not  to  think  to  have  an  inward 
 lifebecaufe  of  the  noile  and  buftle  that  he  made,  and 
 the  confidence  wherewith  he  fpake  ;  for  thefe  do  buc 
 •ftill  render  him  more  like  thofe  Ghofts,  who  have  a 
 greater  boldnefs,  and  caufe  many  times  more  (fir,  than 
 'they  that  are  really  alive. 
 
 That  we  may  be  fure  therefore  that  you  are  a  living 
 man,  you  muff  expofe  your  felf  to  our  touch,  and  de- 
 menftrate  it  to  the  fenfe  of  feeling.  You  muft  fay  as 
 our  Saviour  did  when  his  Difciples  took  him  for  an 
 Apparition,  come  near  and  handle  me,  and  you  fhall 
 fee  that  I  do  not  cheat  you.  Let  thofe  that  approach 
 you  perceive  that  Chrift  liveth  in  you,  and  fberv  forth 
 your  works  out  of  a  good,  converfation,  and  that  in  meek- 
 ■  nefs  ofrvifdom.  I  mean  in  plain  words,  that  it  muft  ap- 
 pear to  the  World,  that  you  are  a  fubftantial  Chriftian 
 '  by  all  the  adts  of  an  Holy  Life.  You  muft  make  them 
 •  fenlibleofyourexa&Juftice,  your  unfeigned  Charity, 
 your  Self-denial,  your  Patience,  your  Peaccableneis, 
 and  above  all,  your  Meeknefs,  Humility  and  Modefty 
 of  Spirit:  that  if  they  haJamind  they  may  not  have 
 the  face  to  fay,  you  have  but  the  fcmblance  and  Apifli 
 
 imitation 
 
20g  The  Tarableoftbefilgrim. 
 
 imitation  of  Piety.    And  to  fay  the  truth,  there  is  no- 
 thing will  certainly  evince  it  to  your  felf,  but  only  this, 
 that  you  feel  in  your  heart  a  conftant,  powerful,  and 
 i  Joh.  4. 1?.   prevailing  inclinations  all  good  wotks.Hereby  we  know 
 that  we  dwell  in  him^andhe  in  us,  becaufe  he  hath  given 
 us  of  his  Spirit,  if  rve  know  that  be  is  righteous ,we  know 
 that  every  one  that  doth  righteoufnefs  is  born  of  him.  Let 
 no  man  deceive  you,  he  that  doth  Righteoufnefs  is  righ- 
 cap-i-B,9>&c>  teous,even  as  he  is  righteous.He  that  committethfin  u  of 
 the  Devil,     whosoever  is  horn  of  God,  doth  not  commit 
 fin,  for  his  feed  remameth  in  him,  and  he  cannot  fin,  be- 
 cause he  is  born  of  God.     In  this  the  children  of  God  are 
 manife/t,  and  the  children  of  the  Devil •   whomever 
 doth  not  righteoufnefs  is  not  of  God ,  neither  he  that 
 loveth  not  his  Brother.    And  indeed  by  this  one  mark 
 laft  named,  you  {hall  detect  the  Artifice  of  thole  Teem- 
 ing people :  w  ho,  notwithstanding  all  their  fair  fpeeches 
 whereby  they  deceive  the  hearts  of  the  fimple,  are  ne- 
 ver found  to  have  a  true  and  hearty  Love  to  thofe  that 
 follow  not  the  Sect  which  they  have  embraced.    It  is 
 a  great  while  ago  flnce  a  very  eminent  perfon  told  the 
 World,  that  he  noted  but  two  fmall  wants  in  that  fore 
 of  men,  viz.  of  Knowledge  and  of  Love.  He  might  have 
 bated  them  one  of  the  two,    and  yet  their  condition 
 had  been  bad  enough ;   though,  if  he  had  lived  till 
 now,  he  would  have  feen  their  Poverty  increafed,  and 
 that  they  want  Humility  as  much  as  either  of  the  other. 
 They  are  indeed  but  fmall  wants  in  their  account 
 (efpecially  the  two  laft  of  the  three  )  and  they  can  be 
 very  well  content  without  them,  if  God  will  be  fo  too. 
 They  efteem  themfelves  Rich  enough  in  other  invifible 
 treasures ;    nay,  they  have  one  Jewel  of  fuch  inefti- 
 mable  value  {viz,,  their  Faith )  that  it  will  compenfate 
 for  a  thoufand  wants  that  aie  no  greater  than  thefe. 
 
 But 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrm.  209 
 
 But  either  I  have  loft  all  my  labour,  or  elfe  I  have 
 made  you  fenfiblc  that  there  is  nothing  more  imports 
 you,  than  to  fee  that  you  be  not  deficient  in  thefe 
 two,  Charity,  and  Humility.  I  may  fafely,  I  fuppofe, 
 refer  you  to  your  own  memory  for  to  be  fatisfied  in 
 their  neceflity  ;  and  fo  only  fay  this  concerning  the 
 former  of  them  :  That  all  your  Faith  is  worth  nothing, 
 which  worketh  not  by  Love,  and  that  he  is  a  Lyer, 
 'who  faith  he  loveth  God,  and  loveth  not  his  Brother 
 alfo. 
 
 That  you  may  fecureyour  fe!f  therefore  the  better 
 from  this,  and  all  other  illufions,  what  other  counfel 
 fhould  I  give  you,  than  to  ponder  that  fentence  much 
 which  I  wiiht  you  to  carry  along  with  you,  and  to  let 
 your  thoughts  run  as  little  as  may  be  upon  any  other 
 thing,  fave  Jefus  only  and  Jeritfalemt  Draw  your 
 mind  from  the  things  which  you  fee  in  this  outward 
 world,  and  make  it  to  retire  within  unto  your  felf ; 
 that  there  you  may  talk  with  Jefus,  and  behold  Jeru- 
 fdem,  and  (ee  that  Glory  where  he  is.  Which  when 
 you  have  pracYifed  a  competent  time,  as  every  thing 
 will  be  unwelcome  and  painful  to  you,  which  is  not 
 related  to  them  :  So  you  will  entertain  every  thing  as 
 very  acceptable,  which  brings  you  into  their  familia- 
 rity. Not  as  if  I  would  have  you  to  neglect  any  bufi- 
 nefs  to  which  you  are  obliged  in  the  world  ;  for  what- 
 foever  it  be  which  either  Neceflity  or  Charity  re- 
 quires, whether  it  be  for  your  felf,  friends,  or  Chri- 
 ftian  Brethren,  I  muft  charge  you  to  apply  your  felf  to 
 the  doing  of  it  with  all  care  and  cxacWl's.  Jefus  is 
 not  out  of  your  eye  fas  I  mall  tell  you  further)  when 
 you  are  fo  imployed }  for  this  is  the  thing  by  which  he 
 was  known  above  all  other,  that  he  voint  about  doing 
 E  e  good. 
 
2io  The  TarableoftheT'tlgrim. 
 
 good.  Butifitbeabufinefsofnoneceflity,  or  if  it  be 
 one  wherein  your  particular  perfon  is  noc  concerned,, 
 and  your  neighbour  challenges  not  your  afliftance,  lee 
 it  alone,  and  trouble  not  your  thoughts  about  it.  And 
 if  it  offer  it  felf  to  you,  and  prefs  upon  you,  and  would 
 make  you  a  medler  in  other  mens  matters  (  as  moft  of 
 our  vain  Believers  arej  tell  it,  you  have  fomething  elfe 
 to do.and repeat ftill thole W'ords,  Ihavenought* 
 
 AND  NOUGHT  DO  I  DESIRE  BUT  TO  BE  IN 
 PEACE  WITH  JESUS  AT  JERUSALEM. 
 
 CHAP.    XXI. 
 
 Of  the  indeaveurs  of  his  Enemies  to  keep  him  from  doing 
 good  to  his  Brethren^  under  a  pretence  of  Love  to.  God* 
 And  of  the  Excellency  of  that  Brotherly  Charity. 
 
 AN  D  here  it  feems  very  feafonable  to  remember 
 you  of  another  common  iubtiky  whereby  your 
 Adverfarieswillftudy  to  deceive  you,  and  put  a  great 
 ftop  to  your  progrefs  in  the  way  you  are  about  to  en- 
 ter. Which  is,  to  detain  you  intheamufements  of 
 contemplation,  and  to  bufie  your  head  only  with  Me- 
 ditations and  conferences  with  Jefus.  They  know 
 that  this  will  keep  you  too  much  at  home,  as  well  as 
 any  thingelfe,  and  that  you-will  travel  in  your  mind 
 and  thoughts  only,  but  not  with  your  whole  man  to 
 Jerufa/em.  And  therefore  they  will  labour  to  per- 
 iwade  you  of  this  at  lead,  that  there  is  not  half  fa 
 much  Piety  can  be  exercifed  abroad  as  in  your  Clofet  5 
 and  that  the  good  we  do  our  Brethren ,  is  nothing 
 comparable  to  the  Meditations  we  have  of  God  and 
 our  Saviour,  and  the  ArXe&ions  we  cxprefs  unto  them* 
 
 This 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  2  { , 
 
 This  will  very  much  hinder  your  proficiency,  and  put 
 a  greater  rub  than  you  imagine  in  your  way,  if  you 
 lend  any  belief  unto  it.  It  will  keep  you  very  much 
 behind,  under  the  pretence  and  colour  of  putting  you 
 forward  ;  and  it  willdcprefs  and  thruft  you  down  be- 
 low others,  while  you  feem  to  be  mounting  up  on 
 high,  and  foaring  to  a  pitch  far  above  them.  For 
 your  Enemies  underftand  very  well,  that  God  ac- 
 counts all  that  as  done  to  himt'elf,  which  is  done  to 
 your  Brethren  for  his  fake.  He  hath  made  over  all 
 thofe  benefits  to  them  which  are  owing  to  him,  becaufe 
 he  is  in  no  need  of  them.  They  are  become  his  Re- 
 ceivers, and  he  hath  devolved  the  right  which  he  hath 
 to  our  returns  of  Love  to  him,  upon  our  Brethren.  Be 
 not  you  ignoranc  of  this  then,  but  underftand  it  as 
 well  as  your  Enemies,  that  you  never  ferve  God  bet- 
 ter, nor  fo  well  neither,  as  when  you  are  doing  any 
 fervice  to  your  poor  Neighbours.  You  are  bound, 
 you  think,  to  exprefs  (uch  Love  to  God,  as  he  hath  ex- 
 prefledto  you.  Only  you  find  that  he  is  not  capable 
 to  receive  fuch  effects  of  it ,  as  you  experiment  in 
 your  felf  from  his  affections  to  you.  But  will  you 
 imagine  now?  that  he  will  lofe  the  right  he  hath  to 
 your  thankful  retributions,  becaufe  he  is  in  want  of  no- 
 thing f  No  fuch  matter :  he  hath  deputed  thofe  who 
 are  in  need  to  receive  from  us  that  which  is  due  to 
 him,  and  to  imploy  it  to  their  own  ufes.  He  hath  com- 
 municated ( as  I  may  fay )  all  his  claim  to  them,  and 
 bids  them  demand  in  his  Name  that  which  we  cannoc 
 give,  much  lefs  forgive  to  him.  So  that  you  exercife 
 Juftice  and  Charity  both  together,  when  you  do  good 
 to  your  Neighbour  $  and  there  is  a  double  Charity  in 
 it  alfo,  one  to  him,  and  anocher  to  them.  They  have 
 good  done  them  upon  his  account,  and  he  takes  it  fo 
 Ee  2  much 
 
2 1 1  The  Parable  of  the  filgrim. 
 
 much  as  done  to  himfelf  that  he  acknowledges  an  ob- 
 ligation,   and  binds  himfelf  to  pay  us  again. 
 
 Nay,  let  me  tell  you,  that  there  is  nothing  in  all  the 
 world  can  render  you  fo  divine  and  heavenly  as  to  do 
 much  good.  This  puts  us  in  the  place  of  God  to  our 
 poor  Brethren,  to  whom  he  fend-  relief  and  help  by 
 our  hands.  Is  not  this  a  very  high  honour  ?  And  is 
 not  that  a  very  noble  quality  which  fo  differences  us 
 from  all  others,  that  it  nukes  us  like  to  the  Moft 
 High  i  The  Mechanical  Chnftian  will  here  find 
 himfelf  to  be  dead  and  void  of  God;  it  being  nothing 
 buta  Spirit  of  Life,  and  that  very  Divine  too,  which 
 will  carry  us  out  of  our  felves,  and  fill  us  with  perpe- 
 tual ardors  of  Love  to  others,  and  inftigate  us  to  be 
 doing  of  good  to  all.  This  is  the  very  Chara&er  of 
 the  Deity -,  for  God  ii  love,  and  he  that  love th,  dwcl- 
 leth  in  God,  and  God  in  him.  And  therefore  if  you 
 covet  to  excel  all  others,  ftudy  to  be  indued  with 
 themoft  profitable  Gifts,  as  the  great  Apoftle  advi- 
 feth:  and  yet,  faith  he,  1  [hew  you  a.  more  excellent 
 way,  and  that  is  charity.  For  this  caufes  us  to 
 make  u!e  of  all  thofe  Gifts  for  the  benefit  of  Man- 
 kind. This  is  the  rareft  way  of  excelling  others, 
 becaufeit  makes  us  excel  our  felves,  and  likens  us  to 
 God.  The  Angels,  you  know,  had  the  ambition 
 of  being  like  to  God  in  Power  and  Majejfy,  afpiring, 
 as  is  conceived,  to  the  Throne  of  the  Moft  high.  Our 
 firft  Parents  were  foon  infeded  with  the  like  vanity, 
 and  th^fe  ambitious  Spirits  rubbed  their  L^profie  up  n 
 them>  for  they  afTefted  to  refemble  God  in  veifdom 
 and  knowledge. Bm  by  this  means  you  know  that  both 
 of  them  loft  what  they  enjoyed,  inftead  of  adding 
 more  unto  it.     What  muft  we  do  then  who  lee  their 
 
 fall  t 
 
T7;e  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  2 , 
 
 falls  i   muft  we  be  content  not  to  be  like  to  oar  Crea- 
 tor i  Not  fo  neither ;  but  we  mult  indeavour  co  imitate 
 him  in  Love  and  Goodnefs,  in  which  there  is  no  dan- 
 ger. This  Admits  of  no  excefs  (as  wife  men  obferve   but 
 only  of  error.     We  cannot  love  too  much,   though  we 
 may  be  imprudent  in  the  communications   of    it. 
 Though   Angels  and  Men  fuffered  ib  much  by   the 
 de/ire  of  other  things  in  excels  >    yet  in  Charity  t  here 
 can  be  none,   nor  lhall  either  of  them  fuffer  any 
 damage  by  it.     And  therefore  it  was  that  God  fent  his 
 Son  Jefus  into  the  world,  that  by  looking  on  him,  we 
 may  know  how  to  become  Divine.     All  his  acts  of 
 power  were  ads  of  Love.     All  his  Miracles  were  Mer- 
 cies to  men.     He  never  imployed  his  Might  but  ro  do 
 benefits.     To  teach  us  that  they  are  truly  great  who 
 are  little  in  themfelves  (  as  he  was )  andgxeat  in  Cha- 
 rity.   That  they  are  iudued  with  moft  power  who  can  do 
 mofl  good,   and  that  they  are  nearejl  to  God,    and  rnojl 
 highly  exalted,  who  are  nearejl  to  their  neighbours,  and 
 moji  deeply  humbled.     You  know  that  if  a  Circle  be 
 made,    and  you  draw  lines  from  the  circumference  to 
 the  middle  point  or  Center  where  they  all  meet:    the 
 farther  thefe  lines  arc  in  any  pjace  one  from  the  other, 
 the  farther  they  arc  f:  cm  the  Center  }  and  the  nearer 
 they  cone  to  that,  the  nearer  alio,  and  the  clofer  their 
 approaches  are  to  each  other.     This  may  be  a  refem- 
 blance,  if  you  pleafe,    of  our  condition  here  in  this 
 World,where  we  are  all  in  our  way  to  Grd  the  Center 
 of  our  Reft,  and  travelling  co  Jerufalew,    where  we 
 hope  to  meet  in  him.     We  arcdeiirous  now  to  draw  as 
 nigh  to  him  as  we  can,    and  many  fancy  that  their 
 mufings,  meditations  and  prayers,  are  the  chicfeft,  if 
 not  the  only  things  that  bring  them  near  unto  him.  But 
 as  I  have  told  you  heretofore;    fole  me  now  repeac 
 
2,4  Tl>e  far  able  of  the  Tilgrirnl 
 
 it  again,  That  Cod  and  our  Brethren  are  To  infeparable, 
 that  we  cannot  touch  the  one,  but  we  muft  be  joyned 
 to  the  other  alfo.     The  further  any  of  us  is  removed 
 from  his  neighbour  (as  you  fee  in  that  fimilitude)  ac 
 the  greater  diftance  he  is  from  God.    He  cannot  go 
 away  from  the  former,   but  he  goes  away  in  the  fame 
 proportions  from  the  latter  too.    And  the  nearer  and 
 cloier  he  is  joyned  in  the  affedHon  of  Charity  to  his 
 neighbour,  the  nearer  he  is  unto  God,  the  more  doth 
 he  approach  to  his  excellencies,  and  to  an  union  with 
 him.     Ifyou  will  be  a  follower  of  God,  thenasadear 
 child  of  his,  walk  in  Love.    You  cannot  chufe  fure  to 
 do  otherwile  when  you  have  fo  glorious  a  pattern  be- 
 fore you.     It  is  an  honourable  thing  now  you  fee  to 
 love,  fince  God  himfelf  is  become  a  Lover.    You  may 
 have  imagined  perhaps  that  fome  offices  of  Charity  are 
 ignoble,  and  difparage  a  perfon  of  honour :    As  moft 
 men  of  condition  think  it  below  them  to  go  into  a 
 poor  mans  houfe,    to  come  near  the  (Unking  wounds, 
 and  the  dirty  beds  of  the  meaner  fort :    and  there  are 
 very  few  who  do  not  account  it  a  fneaking  quality  to 
 put  up  injuries,  and  pafs  by  affronts.    But  you  cannot 
 be  of  this  mind  if  you  look  upon  God,    who  by  loving 
 us,  hath  alfo  taught  us  how  honourable  and  glorious  all 
 thefe  things  are.     They  are  not  below  us,  fince  they 
 are  not  below  himfelf.     There  is  no  man  fo  much  our 
 inferiour,    as  wc  are  all  beneath  him.    And  yet  he 
 condefcended  to  them.     He  comes  and  dwells  in  th.s 
 perifliing  flefh  of  ours.     He  defpifes  not  our  poor  cot- 
 tages :   he  dreffes  our  wounds :    he  takes  care  of  our 
 fores :   he  heals  our  ficknefles :   he  paflcs  by  our  tranf- 
 grtiTions;  yea,  heprayesustobefriends,  and  intreats 
 irs  to  be  reconciled.     And  that  is  a  thing  which  mea 
 think  to  be  fo  poor  and  mean,  that  no  great  fpirit  can 
 a  indure 
 
Tlx  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 incure  to  fubmit  unco  ir.  To  go  to  others  who  have 
 offended  us,  and  befeech  them  to  lay  afide  their  emnity 
 is  thought  to  favour  of  bafenefs,  and  to  be  an  argument 
 of  a  low  and  cowardly  mind.  But  God  will  give  us 
 leave  to  think  ^o  no  longer.  He  hath  fhown  us  that 
 it  is  the  effect  of  a  moft  generous  and  noble  difpofiti- 
 in,  and  fo  far  from  being  a  blemifli  to  us,  that  we  fhouid 
 glory  in  it  to  be  the  firft  in  making  peace,  and  offering 
 terms  of  reconciliation.  Others  may  think  to  give 
 proofs  of  their  gallantry  by  ftanding  in  defiance  to  all 
 thofc  who  will  not  fubmit  themfelves,  and  lye  at  their 
 feet ;  yea  by  trampling  on  them  who  (hall  in  the  leaft 
 offend  them :  but  God  teaches  us  by  his  own  example 
 that  there  is  no  greater  height  of  mind,  than  in  Humi- 
 lity and  Meeknefs  tocondefcend  to  others,  yea  to  lay 
 our  felves  at  their  feet,  and  beg  of  them  for  the  fake  of 
 the  Lord  of  Peace,  thac  they  will  be  the  children  of 
 Peace.  This  is  to  become  the  fons  of  the  moft  High, 
 and  Heirs  of  the  greateft  Glory. 
 
 And  now  let  me  ask  you  for  what  end  would  you- 
 (hut  up  your  felf  in  your  Clofet,  or  make  a  Cell  of  your 
 houfe  ?  Is  it  not  that  you  may  improve  your  felf  in  the 
 knowledge  of  God  ;  and  do  you  not  hope  there  to 
 converfe  more  with  Heaven  i  you  need  not  then  be 
 put  to  the  trouble  of  this  confinement,  for  I  afTu  e  you 
 nothing  will  fo  much  promote  your  end  as  Love  of 
 your  Neighbour.  This  will  make  you  feel  what  God 
 i<,  and  give  you  the  cleared  and  ftrongeft  fenfeof  him. 
 And  the  larger  and  wider  your  Chancy  grows,  the 
 more  able  you  will  be  to  conceive  the  vaftnefs  of  Gods 
 Love,  and  the  Ids  doubt  you  will  have  of  his  Llniver- 
 fal  good  will.  It  will  difpofe  you  alio  more  than  any 
 thing  elfe  to  believe  the  Gofpel,   and  will  win  your 
 
 alien  j 
 
£V6  The  (parahle  of  the  Pilgriml 
 
 affent  to  thofe  reports  which  ftem  mod  incredible. 
 When  you  find  in  your  felf  fuch  a  greac  love  to  others, 
 it  will  be  eafier  for  you  to  conclude  that  God  raighc 
 love  us  fo  much  as  to  fend  his  only  Son  into  the  world, 
 and  give  him  alfo  to  die  for  us  tinners.     And  if  there 
 beany  thing  of  greater  force  than  other  to  bring  you 
 acquainted  with  the  joy  and  peace  of  Jcrufalem,   and 
 to  make  difcoveries  before  hand  of  it,  this  muft  be  that 
 happy  Spy.     For  they  confift  very  much  in  the  dear 
 love  and  friendfhip  which  there  is  between  all  the  in- 
 habitants of  that  blcfled  place.    But  thefe  things  I  will 
 leave  to  your  own  thoughts,    and  only  pray  you  to  im- 
 ploy your  mind  in  all  your  fecret  retirements  fo  much 
 in  thefe  meditations,    that  you  may  iffue  forth  from 
 thence  very  full  of  God,   and  as  a  maninfpired  to  do 
 much  good.     For  this  active  devotion  is  that  which 
 God  loves.     He  will  import  more  of  his  bleffings  to 
 you ,   if  you  open  your  hands  in  doing  benefits  to 
 others,   than  if  you  mould  lift  them  up  all  day  in 
 prayers  to  heaven.     He  refufes  nothing  to  the  ftirring 
 and  diligent  fouls,   whom  love  and  good-will  have  fee 
 in  motion.     He  delights  to  give  to  thofe  who  imploy 
 his  Grace.     It  is  a  pleafure  to  him  to  blefs  thofe  who 
 go  forth  to  meet  his  favours,  and  do  not  expect  them  in 
 their  Chambers.     But  we  never  imploy  his  Grace  bet- 
 ter than  when  we  imitate  the  effufions  of  it  upon  us  in 
 our  kindnefs  and  benignity  to  others.     And  we  are 
 never  more  like  to  meet  his  bleffings,    than  when  they 
 are  bleifing  of  him  for  the  good  that  we  have  brought 
 unto  them. 
 
 I  know  you  will  be  ready  to  fay  hereafter,  that  you 
 can  defign  a  great  deal  more,  than  you  doubt  you  mall 
 ever  do.     That  the  Idea  you  have  of  this  Noble 
 
 quality 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  filgnm,  %  I  o 
 
 quality  is  very  high,  but  you  are  afraid  it  is  above 
 your  reach.  And  therefore  I  pray  you  before-hand 
 that  you  would  not  trouble  your  felf  with  fuch 
 thoughts,  but  only  remember  thele  two  things.  That 
 when  you  have  done  ail  the  good  that  ever  you  can, 
 that  will  difpofe  you  (till  to  do  more :  and  in  the 
 mean  feafon  you  are  to  take  care  of  tins,  to  rejoyce 
 heartily  that  there  are  others  in  the  World  who  can 
 do  more  good  than  you.  If  we  were  once  arrived  at 
 this  noble  difpofition  of  rejoycing  in  the  good  of 
 others,  eitheir  in  that  which  they  enjoy,  or  that  which 
 they  can  do,  we  fliould  be  fo  far  from  wanting  Cha- 
 rity, that  we  (hould  equal  our  felves  with  the  mod 
 excellent  and  blefled  natures.  As  we  mould  have 
 no  caule  to  complain  that  we  are  not  in  the  fame 
 Throne  with  Princes,nor  to  envy  the  Learning  of  thofe 
 who  fit  in  the  Chairs  of  Wifdora :  So  we  (hould  not 
 come  behind  the  devotion  of  the  greateft  Saints,  nor 
 be  much  inferiour  to  the  Angels,  who  think  it  no  fmall 
 part  of  their  happinefs  that  they  can  rejoyce  in  God, 
 and  in  all  the  marks  of  his  goodnefs  wherefoever  they 
 can  difcern  them.  Are  we  lefs  happy  becaufe  our  Wic 
 is  not  fo  ftrong,  our  revenues  not  fo  large,  our  ftation 
 not  fo  high,  and  fo  our  power  to  oblige  others  not  fo 
 great  as  thofe  of  many  of  our  neighbours?  No  fuch 
 thing,  butjwe  (hall  rather  be  the  more  happy :  if  in  the 
 midft  of  a  low  condition,  and  in  a  meaner  rank,  we  can 
 keep  our  felves  from  the  ruft  and  canker  of  envy,  which 
 is  wont  to  grow  fooneft  in  fuch  places  as  are  low  and 
 damp.  He  hath  raifed  him  elf  to  a  very  high  pitch, 
 whole  foul  t'urmounts  all  discouragements,  and  rejoyces 
 intheUnivefralgood  of  mankind  by  whomfoever  if 
 is  procured.  Hereby  we  (lull  make  the  happinefs  of 
 every  perion  that  is  above  us  to  be  our  own.  For  how 
 Ff  is 
 
2 1 0  Tlx  Parable  of  the  TWgnvfi. 
 
 is  he  more  Happy  than  I  who  gets  a  victory,   if  I  tri- 
 umph in  it  as  much  as  himfelf?   Wherein  is  he  Supe- 
 riour  to  me  whofe  riches  increafe,  if  I  be  not  only  con- 
 tented therewith,  but  much  better  pleafed  in  his  pro- 
 fperous  eftate  than  I  was  before  he  enjoyed  it  <   Niy, 
 if  it  help  to  make  me  well  to  fee  him  in  health,  and  re- 
 frem  my  fpirit  to  fee  him  merry,  and  really  render  me 
 better  to  behold  his  progrefs  in  Wifdom  and  Vertue  ; 
 then  I  have  the  benefit  or  all  thefe,   and  they  become 
 mine  as  much  as  his  in  whom  they  are.     And  can  you 
 contrive  a  better  way  than  this  to  make  your  foul  the 
 fefort  of  all  pleafures ;   the  very  Center  wherein  the 
 happinefs  of  the  whole  World  mail  meet,   the  Ren- 
 dezvou'z  (if  you  will  give  leave  to  that  word  )  of  all 
 thofe  joys  which  are    fcatrercd  every  where  among 
 Gods  Creatures  ?  It  is  not  p  jflible  for  you  to  do  it :  nor 
 is  there  any  delight  fo  noble  and  fublime,  lb  pure  and 
 refined  as  this,  which  with  fo  much  cafe  you  may  enjoy. 
 It  is  the  very  extract  of  all  other  pleafures,   it  is  the 
 Effence  and  Spirit  of  them  without  the  proffer  pares, 
 which  are  wont  to  derain  half  of  the  plcalure  from  us. 
 Though  other  pleafures  make  more  noife,   yet  this 
 -     gives  greater  contentment.      They  make  a  lowder 
 ibund,    but  the  commendation  of  this  is  its  filence  and 
 quiet.     The  World  rakes  more  notice  of  others,   but 
 the  very  fe'erefie  of  this  joy  increafes  its   fweecnefs, 
 and  vapours  not  out  the  purity  thereof.      Other  in- 
 joyments  may  be  greater  in  bulk,   but  this  is  more  in 
 value.      They  are  obtained  at  a  great  charge,    but 
 this  we  enjoy  aether  mens-coft.     Thofe  perfons  have 
 the  labour  and  Sweet-together  with  their  de'ight,   and 
 we   have  the  pure   pleafure.     They  work   not  for 
 themfclves  only ,   but  they  muft  do  us  fome  fervice 
 thereby.    We  ccme  in  for  a  {hare  of  all  their  getti  igr,. 
 
 an  J 
 
Tkt-Tarabte  of  the  Pilgrim.  22l 
 
 and  want  nothingwhitiiuicy  have,  but  only  ilie  toil 
 and  the  pains.    And  yet  fo  innocent  is  this  pieafure, 
 that  while  we  enjoy  all  that  others  do,  we  leave  them 
 all  they  had,  and  take  nothing  away  from  them.     As 
 the  Bees  fuck  an  invisible  fwectnefs,"  which  robs  the 
 flowers  of  none  of  their  beauties  from  whence  they  fetch 
 it :    So  do  we  when  we  folace  our  felves  in  other  mens 
 goods  5    which  are  not  impaired  by  our  rclimes,   nor 
 made  lefs  by  all  the  concentment  we  draw  from  them. 
 Nay,  we  oblige  them  by  this  means,   and  pay  them 
 largely  for  all  that  we  take.     It  will  be  an  addition 
 to  their  pleafures  to  know  that  others  are  pleafed 
 with  them;    It  will  be  the  belt  part  of  their  fa  isfaclion 
 to  underftand  that  you  caft  not   an  evil  eye  upon  their 
 enjoyments.     Their  happinefs  would  be  imperfect, 
 if  you  did  not  think  your  felf  happy  too.    They  will 
 owe  as  much  to  you  as  to  their  own  acquifitions,  and 
 you  equal  your  felf  to  them  by  not  envying  their  fup'e- 
 riority. 
 
 But  I  think  it  is  time  to  conclude  this  difcourfe  con- 
 cerning the  good  you  are  to  do  your  Brethren  ;  and 
 therefore  I  mall  only  admonifli  you  of  a  thing  which 
 may  be  apt,  if  you  have  not  confidered  it,  to  trouble 
 you  in  your  way  to  Jerusalem  ;  and  fo  pafs  to  othejr 
 matters.  After  you  have  done  all  the  good  you  can, 
 youmuftnot  think  to  have  the  pleafure  of  finding  all 
 thefe  perfons  grateful,  on  whom  youhivebeftowed 
 your  favours.  You  muft  rej^yce  in  your  own  Ver- 
 tue-,  without  expecting  that  additional  delight  which 
 reciprocal  love  would  afford  you.  Such  a  good  na- 
 ture, I  believe,  as  yours,  will  make  you  fuppofe  that 
 you  have  received  a  favour,  when  one  hath  but  Hone 
 you  juftice ;  and  therefore  you  will  be  infinitely  fehft- 
 T  f  2  ble 
 
lit  The  far  able  of  the  filgrun. 
 
 bleof  any  klndnefs,  and  think  that  it  lays  an  c  verg- 
 ing obligation  of  gratitude  upon  you.  But  do  not  ima- 
 gine that  you  (hall  meet  with  much  of  this  ingenuity 
 in  the  World  :  there  are  a  far  greater  number  of  fuch 
 a  wicked  difpofition,  that  they  look  even  upon  kind- 
 nefles  as  their  due,  and  will  render  you  no  more  thanks 
 for  them3  than  men  commonly  do  for  Juftice,  to  which 
 every  body  claims  an  equal  right.  Nay,  you  will  meet 
 with  thole,  who  when  they  are  highly  obliged,  do  love 
 to  avoid  the  perfons  that  put  thole  bonds  upon  them. 
 They  will  not  behave  themfelves  to  well  as  to  take 
 your  kindncfles  for  their  due,  but  carry  it  rather  as  if 
 they  had  done  them  a  fenfible  wrong.  And  1  wifh  I 
 could  not  fay  that  there  are  fuch  ill  natures  who  caonoe 
 indure  fo  much  as  to  behold  thofe  who  have  been  their 
 Benefactors :  but  fhun  them ,  as  if  they  were  their 
 deadly  enemies.  But  you  will  find,  I  fear,  too  many 
 of  thefe  Wretches,w  ho  think  whenfoever  they  fee  you, 
 that  you  upbraid  them  with  all  the  good  they  have  re- 
 ceived from  you.  When  you  did  them  benefits,  you 
 laid  chains  upon  them,  and  they  think  it  no  crime  to 
 hate  him  that  hath  made  them  his  Prifoners.  They 
 will  heartily  wifti  you  w?ere  dead,  thatfo  they  may  be 
 freed.from  their  bonds,  which  will  die  and  be  buried  in 
 the  fame  Grave  together  with  you.  For  they,  meafuring 
 other  mens  natures  by  their  own  evil  difp  virion,  which 
 inclines  them  to  do  good  to  none,  unlefs  it  be  wit  h  a  de- 
 fign  to  make  them  Slaves ;  they  could  wim  never  to  fee 
 thofe  perfons,  who  they  think,  look  upon  themfelves 
 as  their  Lords  and  Matters,  by  having  thus  engaged 
 them.  Their  courtefies  aremeer  trafhque,  and  they  al- 
 ways expect  to  gain  more  than  they  give  :  w  hich  makes 
 them  hate  their  Benefactors,  who  look  they  imagine 
 for  payment  alfo  far  greater  than  they  have  a  will  to 
 
 make. 
 
The  Tar  die  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 make.     Nay,  they  had  rather  do  a  courtefie  to  thofe 
 who  never  did  anything  for  them,    thin  be  officious 
 to  thole  perfons  who  have  lb  much  obliged  them.     J  jft 
 hke  thole  wicked  people,   who  had  rather  make  a  pre- 
 sent to  others, than  pay  what  they  owe  to  their  Credi- 
 tors.   Which  to  fay  the  truth,    is  no  more  than  the 
 nccelfaryconfequenceof  that  curled  principle  I  named 
 before,  of  trading  with  kindneflH,  and  putting  them 
 out  to  U  e ;  thac  they  may  improve  into  greater,  to  be 
 rendredback  to  them.     I  know  very  well  there  is  no 
 Vice  more  odious  than  this,  or  which  lies  under  greater 
 reproach  even  by  ungrateful  perfons  themfelves ;    but 
 yet  I  allure  you,    it  will  be  founi  that  there  is  none 
 more  common.     AnJ  the  mifchief  of  it  is,   that  it  is 
 never  fo  likely  to  grew  inbafe  natures,  as  when  they 
 have  been  highly  bound  to  you.     The  kinder  you  have 
 been,  the  more  ungrateful  they  are  like  to  prove  :  like 
 thofe  who  having  contracted  a  vaft  debr,  and  having  a 
 little  to  pay,  run  away  with  mame,  and  pay  juft  nothing 
 at  all.     You  muft  do  good  therefore  meerly  for  the 
 love  you  bear  to  it  felf ;  and  though  you  defirc  no  pay- 
 ment but  only  the  pleafure  of  having  it  kindly  refenter, 
 vou  muft  be  content  fometimes  to  lole  that  imill  return^ 
 and  reft  fatisfied  in  what  you  have  done,  and  in  your 
 pious  difpofition  to  do  the  fame  again* 
 
 CHAP. 
 
224  ^  Tar  able  of  the  Tilgitn. 
 
 CHAP.  XXII. 
 
 That  a  Pilgrim  mujl  [ometimes  recreate  him felf as  well 
 as  other  men.  Of  the  pleasure  of  good  company,  what 
 men  are  to  be  more  particularly  avoided.  Of  the  Fejli- 
 vals  of  the  Church.  Hove  useful  they  mxy  be.  And  how 
 much  ahufed. 
 
 ANd  now  I  think  it  is  time  to  remember  you  for 
 the  prevention  of  all  miftakes,  that  there  never 
 was  any  pilgrim  who  could  always  be  exercifed  in 
 doing  good  to  others,  or  in  Prayer  and  Contempla- 
 tion ;  but  he  was  forced  to  attend  fometimes  to  him- 
 felf  alone,  and  provide  for  the  needs  of  his  Body  by 
 the  ufe  of  Meat,  and  Drink,  and  Sleep ;  wherein 
 you  mult  not  think  to  be  unlike  them.  Nay,  there  is 
 a  great  need  alfo  at  certain  feafons  of  innocent  Recrea- 
 tions, which  Pilgnms  muft  not  be  fo  morofe  as  "utterly 
 to  deny  themfelves  $  for  in  truth  there  are  none  fo  fie 
 as  they  to  enjoy  them.  And  in  all  thefe  things  I  would 
 have  you  to  ufe  the  beft  difcrecion  that  is  in  your 
 power,  avoiding,  as  you  would  the  greateft  danger 
 that  hath  been '  mentioned ,  all  foolifh  fcrupulofity 
 about  them.  Do  not  meafure  your  Drink,  nor  weigh 
 your  Meat,  nor  confine  your  Divertifements  to  a  mi- 
 nute, but  enjoy  them  freely  as  the  Wifdom  you 
 havefhallat  this  prefent  direct  you,  refolving  not  to 
 trouble  your  felf  about  any  after  accidents.  For, 
 though  it  is  ncceflary  that  we  take  a  care  to  fpend  our 
 time  well,  and  there  is  nothiug  of  which  we  mould  be 
 more  frugal;  yet  ic  is  not  good  to  be  over  rigorous  in 
 exacting  an  account  of  our  hours.    We  may  run  our 
 
 felves 
 
71?e  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  %  i  e 
 
 (elves  thereby  into  infinite  Temples ,  and  bufie  oar 
 thoughts  about  fuchendlefs  niceties,  that  we  may  Jofe 
 much  time  while  we  arc  thinking  how  to  lave  it,  and 
 imp .^veriih  our  felves  by  ftudying  to  be  miferable  good 
 husbands.  Do  not  grudge  therefore  to  thefe  things  a 
 fair  portion  of  your  time,  out  of  a  fear  that  they  will 
 be  too  great  an  hindrance  to  you ;  for  though  they  feem 
 to  ftay  you  for  a  while,  they  do  very  much  further  you, 
 and  give  you  ftrength  to  walk  more  chearfully  for  a 
 long  time  after.  Difcreet  ftays  and  refts  make  fpeedy 
 journeys.  It  is  no  turning  out  of  your  way,  to  divert 
 your  felf  fometime  in  a  pleafant  Meadow.  That 
 is  the  neareft  way  to  a  place,  which  brings  you  fooneft 
 thither.  And  as  the  old  faying  is,  Soft  and  fair  goes 
 far. 
 
 And  indeed  it  is  impoflible  that  all  the  hours  of  a 
 mans  life  mould  be  equally  grave.  The  wings  of  the 
 Fowl  cannot  be  always  ftretched,  and  it  is  idle  to  think 
 its  vigour  (hall  receive  no  abatements.  Let  it  foar  ne-  ■ 
 ver  fo  high,  it  will  be  forced  to  (loop  again ;  and  by 
 fitting  ftiil  and  refrefliing  ic  felf,  be  made  more  able 
 for  a  new  flight.  Of  this  you  muft  be  welladvifed,  or 
 clfe  you  will  never  get  to  Jer/tfalcm.  It  is  the  counfel 
 of  Nature  which  muft  be  followed,  that  ail  who  work, 
 do  take  fome  reft.  The  continuance  of  labour  de- 
 pends upon  Moderation,  and  Nature  always  threatens 
 violence  with  an  end.  I  grant  that  your  delires  may 
 be  ever  pricking  you  forward,  and  that  they  may  be 
 loth  to  givey  >u  a  momenta  reft.  But  they  will  fti- 
 mulateyou,  even  till  they  gall  you3  anJ  if  you  take 
 not  heed,  will  make  you  reft  of  neceftky,  and  not  out 
 of  choice.  The  beft  C  urtrr  th  u  is  may  run  hknfelf 
 off  his  legs.  You  may  tire  and  jade  your  felf  by  over- 
 long 
 
225  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim* 
 
 long  journeys.    And  though  your  mind  be  of  fuch  a, 
 make,  that  if  it  were  alone,  and  had  nothing  to  carry 
 along  with  it,  poilibly  it  might  never  be  weary,   but 
 would  run  continually  :    yet  while  it  is  engaged  in 
 the  company  of  this  terreftrial  body,   it  mufthtftill 
 "and  eafe  it  ftlf,  if  it  be  but  for  the  lake  of  its  fellow- 
 traveller.     We  are  not  yet  divorced  from  ienfe,    nor 
 do  we  enjoy  the  liberty  which  we  hope  for  at  Jeru- 
 fxlem.     We  are  far  from  the  purity  of  (imple  Beings, 
 and  whether  we  will  or  no,  (hall  find  our  (elves  to  be 
 mixt  wkh  matter,  which  will  not  always  move.     Ic 
 will  be  a  Aug,  do  what  we  can:   and  if  we  will  not 
 find  it  fome  refre(hment,it  will  take  fome  of  it  felf,  and 
 more  fometimes  than  we  need  to  give  it.    It  is  better 
 that  it  (hould  be  at  our  difpofe,  th  an  at  its  own.  It  will 
 be  content  with  lefs,  if  we  do  not  deny  it  all.    We 
 fhali  find  it  more  obedient,  if  we  do  not  by  our  rigour 
 provoke  it  to  a  plain  Rebellion,    We  (hall  ufe  greater 
 Moderation,  if  by  defrauding  our  felves  of  all  recrea- 
 *    tions,    we  do  not  become  fo  impatient  as  to  play  the 
 gluttons,  when  we  take  the  liberty  to  enjoy  them.     Ic 
 is,  no  doubt,  a  true  obfervation.    That  the  ready  way 
 to  make  the  minds  of  Youth  grow  awry,    is  to  lace 
 them  too  hard,  by  denying  them  their  juft  tteedom. 
 When  you  rob  the  appetite  of  its  lawful  and  innocent 
 delight,  it  hath  fuchadefire  to  break  this  Prifon,  that 
 it  oft-times  furioufly  burfts  forth  into  unlawful  and 
 forbidden  pleafures :  And  therefore  ufe  a  due  care  at 
 leaft  in  your  firft  letting  out,    that  you  run  not  with 
 too  great  a  violence.     Do  not  make  more  hafte  than 
 good  fpetd,   as  you  will  be  apt  to  do  when  you  begin 
 your  journey.     Young  Pilgrims  are  wont  to  be  veiy 
 forward,  and  to  tie  themlelvts  to  fuch  long  (lages ; 
 that  th<y  grow  weary,   and  tumafide  to  fome  more 
 
 pleafing 
 
Tl>e  T  arable  of  the  Ttlgrim.  22? 
 
 pleating  courfes*  And  it  is  well  if  they  divert  not  to 
 iuch  as  are  loofe  after  too  great  ftrictnefs.  They  are 
 very  happy  if  they  leave  not  off  their  travel,  by  tra- 
 veiling  too  faft.  The  very  befl  that  we  can  expeel,  is 
 that  they  fit  down  as  men  out  of  breath,  and  that  they 
 lofe  mere  time  in  recovering  of  it,  than  they  would 
 have  done  in  feafonable  refrtihmenr. 
 
 Nay,  let  me  tell  you,  theoldeft  traveller  upon  the 
 Road  will  find  that  he  hath  great  ufe  of  them,  and  can- 
 not give  fo  good  an  account  of  his  time,  unlefs  he  be- 
 flow  a  little  of  it  upon  them.  Recreations  are  part  of  the 
 needs  of  humane  life,  and  though  a  man  be  never  fo  well 
 provided,  he  will  be  liable  to  this  want.  The  moft 
 vigorous  minds  will  fometimes  be  weary  and  call  for 
 quiet  and  eafe.  Theftrongeft  eyes  will  at  laft  grow 
 weak,  anddetire  to  (hut  themfelvcs.  The  life  of  the 
 greateft  Sages  (as  a  wife  man  once  told  me  J  is  not  alto- 
 gether ferioui.  All  their  fayings  are  not  Sermons :  nor 
 is  all  they  write  either  their  laft  Teftament  or  the  confef- 
 fion  of  their  Faith.  And  therefore  ftudy  not  how  to  live 
 and  ufe  no  Recreations,  but  rather  to  ufe  none  but  thofe 
 which  are  good  and  worthy  of  a  man.  Think  not  to  be 
 employed  to  as  not  to  need  them,  but  take  care  that 
 under  a  pretence  of  need  they  do  not  become  your  em- 
 ployment. Order  the  matter  fo  difcreetly  that  they 
 may  be  as  profitable  as  they  are  delightful.See  that  they 
 render  you  the  hours  back  again  which  you  have  be- 
 flowed  on  them.  For  there  is  nothing  more  certain 
 than  that  rve  may  gain  time  by  intermitting  our  Labours, 
 and  rid  the  more  ground  by  ft  andwgjtill  awhile* 
 
 And  becaufe  the  greateft  part  of  a  wife  mans   plea- 
 
 fure  confitls  in  good  diverting  company,   let  me  here 
 
 G  g  remember 
 
2 1  &  Tlie  (Parable  oj  t  he  T ilgrim . 
 
 remember  you  to  provide  that  it  be  carefully  cho'en  ? 
 and  that  you  do  not  lightly  take  men  into  your  fami- 
 liarity. Excellent  men  you  are  rather  to  be  converfant 
 withal,  than  excellent  Books.  You  may  learn  more  of 
 them  than  all  your  ftudy  can  teach  you.  You  may  at 
 once  give  your  foul  a  recreation,  and  your  body  a  re- 
 paft  ;  You  may  divert  your  felf  and  others  both  to- 
 gether. He  who  asks  and  enquires  of  his  company, 
 ihall  both  receive  much  learning,  and  give  much  con- 
 tent :  efpecially  when  his  queltions  are  addreficd  to 
 fuch  whofe  skill  lyes  in  that  whereof  he  demands  fa- 
 tisfacTion.  For  then  he  offers  them  a  fit  occafion  to 
 pleafe  themfelves  in  fpeaking ,  and  he  gains  much 
 knowledge  himfelf  by  being  pofleffed  of  their  concep» 
 tions.  And  therefore  it  is  mod  advifable  for  you  to 
 frequent  the  fociety  of  thofc  who  have  more  know, 
 ledge  than  your  felf.  Though  there  are  who  alfeft 
 the  company  of  ignorant  pcrfons,  that  fo  they  may  be 
 taken  for  knowing  men  ;  yet  they  who  are  really 
 knowing,  feek  for  the  wife,  that  fo  they  may  know 
 more.  In  the  one  you  may  be  admired,  but  in  the 
 other  you  (hall  be  acquainted  with  things  that  are 
 worthy  of  admiration.  And,  I  befecch  you,  which 
 is  better,  to  learn  wifdom  from  thofe  who  are  wife,  or 
 to  be  accounted  wife  by  thofe  who  are  ignorant  ?  It  is  a 
 pitiful  thing,  in  my  judgement,  to  be  thought  \\ifc 
 when  you  are  not:  and  yet  it  is  fnll  more  deplorable 
 when  you  pleafe  your  felf  in  being  fo  thought  by  thofc 
 who  indeed  are  very  fools.  If  y;  u  would  win  the  re- 
 putation of  Wifdom,  let  it  be  with  thole  who  know 
 what  it-is.  But  you  nmft  firft  have  it,  before  you  have 
 their  cftcem;  andthe  firft  flcptoit,  is  to  be  fo  wile  as 
 to  know  in  what  company  it  is  to  be  learnt. 
 
 B  t 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Qilgr'm.  ll? 
 
 But  it  is  not  my  intention  to  make  you  a  long  dif- 
 ■courfe  on  this  fubjeft,   and  therefore  I  111  ill  noc  warn 
 you  of  all  thole  who  arc  to  be  avoided,   but  only  of 
 one  fort  who  will  more  abufe  your  time,    and  alfodo 
 you  greater  mifchicf  than  any  elfe  befide  that  are  noc 
 openly  wicked.     They  that  I  mean  are  a  talkative  ge- 
 neration,   who  are  ever  chattering  and  babling  as  if 
 they  had  obtained  a  Patent  for  prating.     People  that 
 are  fo  much  in  company  with  others,    that  they  can 
 never  find  leifare  to  keep  any  with  themfelves.     Who 
 arc  a  burden  to  themfelves  when  they  are  at  home, 
 and  to  their  neighbours  when  they  are  abroad.    Whofe 
 minds  are  ftuft  with  nothing  but  News,  of  which  they 
 are  fo  full ,    that   they  have  no  room  for  one  wife 
 thought  to  lodge  there.     But  above  all  others,  I  would 
 have  you  mark  and  (hun  a  complaining  fort  of  people 
 who  are  ever  finding  faulr,   and  never  can  be  pleafed. 
 Their  minds  Ued  upon  the  fins  or  the  harms  of  others, 
 and  they  have  always  fome  News  to  make  you  fad. 
 The  fubjed  of  their  difcourfe  moft  commonly  is,    the 
 evil  of  the  days  wherein  they  live.     They  always 
 praife  that  which  is  part,  and  difcommend  that  which 
 is  prefent.     The  wife  men  of  former  days  they  are 
 ever  magnifying:   and  they  will  allow  no  body  to  be 
 good,   but  thofe  who  are  dead.    They  feek  for  ex- 
 amples of  Piety  in  the  Acts  and  Monuments  of  the 
 Church,  which  they  would  uot  follow  nor  applaud  if 
 they  were  alive  again.    Nay,  they  hive  in  greac  ad- 
 miration all  that  is  done  abroad,  but  are  ill  affe&ed  to 
 all  that  is  done  at  home.     Nothing  can  be  fo  well  ma- 
 naged, but  they  will  (hew  you  fome  errour  in  it :   nor 
 can  there  be  fo  profound  a  Peace  •,  but  they  will  fright 
 you  with  fome  thing  that  portends  Wars,  or  other 
 Calamities.     They  never  look  upon  the  Kingdom 
 Gg  2  where 
 
aig  The  f "arable of 'thefilgriml 
 
 where  they  live,  bat  they  fee  it  full  of  the  tokens  cf 
 Gods  wrath.     There  is  no  fpot  rhat  'can  appear,   but 
 they  make  it  a  mark  of  the  plagues  of  Heaven  that  are 
 coming  upon  us.     They   have  loft  their  tafte   and 
 judgement  through  the  gall  andbirternefs  of  their  own 
 heart.     Their  choler  overflows  fo  mnch ,    that  they 
 have  no  fenle  or  relifh  of  any  of  Gods  mercies,   but 
 cry  out  perpetually  of  woes  and  miferies.    One  would 
 think  by  their  talk ,    that  the  tranquillity  of  their 
 Country  is  a  trouble  to  them  ;  and  rather  chan  have 
 no  difturbance,  they  will  begin  it  in  themfelves.    Niy, 
 let  things  be  in  what  pofture  they  will,  you  (hall  ne- 
 ver find  them  at  any  eafe.     Let  them  change  their 
 faces  never  fo  much ,   they  ftill  retain  the  fame  fad 
 countenance,  and  follow  you  with  their  complaints. 
 If  all  things  be  in  a  profperous  cftate,   they  fill  you 
 with  fears  of  the  evils  that  are  to  come.    And  if  the 
 times  be  very  miferable,   then  they  bethink  them- 
 felves of -the  happinefs  which  they  could  not  fee  be- 
 fore in  the  days  that  are  part.    When  they  have  no- 
 thing to  fay,  they  will  give  you  a  very  grave  nod,   by 
 which  you  muft  gather,  their  heads  arc  full,  if  their 
 wifdom  thought  it  fit  at  that  time  to  empty  them. 
 And  when  they  are  afraid  to  fpeak  their  thoughts, 
 then  they  will  make  their  head,  and  give  a  terrible 
 fhrug,  as  if  all  were  nought  and  going  to  ruine.    In 
 fhort,   you  (hall  hear  theie  men  tpeak  nothing  bur  La- 
 mentations :    and  they  will  mix  their  words  with  fuch 
 fighs ,  that  you  would  think  they  laid  to  heart  the 
 badnefs  of  the  times.     But  do  noc  believe  them:    this 
 may  be  no  more  but  a  copy  of  their  countenance. 
 For  there  are  a  number  of  them  who  conceive  afeciet 
 joy  when  they  hear  an  ill  ftory  of  one  whom  they 
 hate,    and  could  not  tell  how  to  appear  good,  un- 
 
 lefs 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  2 1 0 
 
 lcfstluy  had  fomc  mens  vices  to  fpeak  againft.  They 
 would  not  be  able  to  live,  if  all  men  ihould  leave 
 their  fins.  There  would  not  be  found  a  man  lb  bad 
 as  rhey,  if  .ill  mould  become  io  good  as  they  feern 
 to  defire.  They  would  be  more  troubled  at  the  re- 
 formation;, than  they  are  at  thediforc'ers.  And,  un- 
 lefs  their  hearts  were  changed,  they  mud  either 
 then  be  dumb,  or  elfe  make  faults  where  they  could 
 find  none.  And  that  is  a  matter,  I  aflure  you,  very 
 eafie  for  them  to  do.  For  they  never  regard  whe- 
 ther their  complaints  be  juft  or  unjuft  :  and  it  would 
 be  to  fnppofe  them  too  reaibnable,  if  we  mould  think 
 they  are  never  diicontented  without  a  caufe.  Mingle 
 not  your  fcif  therefore  with  fuch  men  :  but  judge  it 
 better  a  great  deal  to  travel  alone,  than  to  fall  into 
 fuch  company.  If  you  mean  to  finifli  your  journey, 
 flay  not  to  liftento  their  tales,  for  they  have  no  end, 
 and  they  will  detain  you  with  them  for  ever.  There 
 is  no  thing,  noperfon  canefcapethe  fcourge  or  their 
 tongues :  and  fmce  thole  are  innumerable,  fo  are  their 
 ftories. 
 
 But  in  this  and  all  the  foregoing  Directions  which  I 
 have  given  you,  it  will  be  of  great  ufe  to  mark  the 
 footfteps  which  you  wi.l  meet  withal  of  many  Tra- 
 vellers who  have  gone  before  you.  Some  of  the 
 prints  of  their  feet  you  will  find  bigger,  and  others 
 of  them  lefs  than  your  own  ;  but  all  of  them  will  fo 
 incourageyou,  and  excite  you,  and  fupply  the  place 
 of  a  Guide  unto  you,  that  I  may  leave  the  reft  to  their 
 inftructions.  And  indeed  the  wit'domofthe  ancient 
 Church  fecms  herein  jo  have  been  very  great,  who 
 chole  to  honour  the  days  of  relaxation  and  mtermif- 
 fion  cf  labours  with  the  names  of  the  Apoftles  and 
 
 Saints 
 
2 }  o  T7#  Parable  of  the  fugrm. 
 
 Saints  of  God.    It  is  fit,  as  I  faid,  that  we  fhouUI 
 lometimesufe  recreations,  but  they  would  teach  us  to 
 brginand  end  them  with  acknowledgements  of  God. 
 It  is  nectflary  thac  we  chear  our  fpirits,  and  refreih  our 
 minds,    but  we  mutt  ftill  remember  that  there  is  no 
 greater  pleafure  than  topraife  our  Lord.     When  we 
 divert  our  felves,  we  mould  have  the  example  of  brave 
 men  before  us.     In  all  our  Sports  and  Mirth,    there 
 muft  nothing  be  admitted  which   is  unbecoming  the 
 gravity  and  purity  of  good  Chriitians.     And  there- 
 fore let  me  intreat  you  on  all  the  Feftivalsof  the  Saints, 
 to  fealon  your  mind  in  the  morning  with  the  medi- 
 tation of  their  holy  lives.    When  you  keep  the  days 
 which  preferve  their  memory,  be  lure  to  follow  their 
 venues,  which  in  effect  will  make  them  ftill  to  live  i 
 the  World.     It  is  a  ridiculous  thing  to  blefs  God  fc 
 thofe  examples  which  we  never  mean  to  imitate.     It 
 is  monftroufly  abfurd  to  maintain  the  memory  of  Ho- 
 ly mens  names,   with  an  utter  forgetfulnefs  of  their 
 Piety.     If  they  be  capable  of  any  grief  in  the  bleffed 
 j)lace  where  they  now  are,  and  have  carried  their  pac- 
 tions away  with  them  to  the  other  World  ;  It  makes 
 them  figh,  one  would  think ,  to  fee  the  lewdnefs  of 
 thofe  that  honour  them,   and  the  difgrace  that  is  done 
 to  Religion  under  the  countenance  of  their  great  names. 
 It  wounds  them  fure  to  hear  themfelves  commended 
 lavifhly,  and  to  fee  their  lives  reproached  as  guilty  of 
 too  much  feverity.    It  was  an  old  faying,  butfpoken 
 with  much  fimplicity  and  zeal  by  an  old  Preacher, 
 That  he  wondred  the  Saints  did  not  rife  out  of  their 
 graves,    to  drive  thofe  away  from  their  Temples,  who 
 ufe  fo  much  ceremony  in  celebrating  their  Feftivals, 
 and  rake  fo  little  care  to  follow  their  Vertues.     But  I 
 may  rather  wonder  with  what  face  men  can  fpeak 
 
 againft 
 
The  durable  of  the  Tilgrim.  i  j  i 
 
 againft  thofe  who  ncg'iccl  the  obiervattce  of  thee 
 Days,  when  [hey  the rlclves  are '.he  chiefdl  can  e-of 
 ic,  or  the  beft  colour  for  ir.  They  chihonour  all  hoy 
 rites,  and  bring  a  reproach  upon  holy  times :  and  if  it 
 had  not  been  for  fuch  as  them,  thole  days  might  have 
 been  in  more  credit,  even  with  thofe  n ho now  del  pre 
 them.  Whatdowefee,  fay  thole  (crapulous  pcrlbns 
 but  riot  and  luxury  at  fuch  leafons?  All  places  are  full 
 of  vomit,  and  men  Icem  to  be  celebrating  the  Fcaft  of 
 Ceres  and  Bacchus,  /.  e.  of  Bread  and  Wine,  •  of  forr.c 
 heathenim,  drunken  belly  God.  They  fancy  there  is 
 no  reftraint  laid  upon  their  arpetkc,  if  they  do  but 
 ftri&ly  forbear  their  ordinary  labours.  They  are  like 
 fome  bad  Chriftians  in  the  old  times,  who  made  no 
 doubt  of  being  drunk,  lb  they  did  but  takeoff  their 
 cups  as  they  late  on  the  Martyrs  Tombs.  Ic  is  eafie 
 indeed  for  thefe  objectors  to  fee  fomething  elfe :  They 
 might  behold  fome  devout  people  who  frequent  the 
 WorfhipofGod,andrejoycemo(t  in  remembring  their 
 Saviour  and  his  great  Grace ,  in  fending  thole  thac 
 Preached  the  Gofpel  to  the  World.  But  the  number 
 of  the  other  are  fogreac  who  never  regard  fuch  things, 
 that  by  lookingon  them  they  are  tempted  to  take  no 
 notice  of  all  the  reft.  The  Taverns  arc  fuller  by  far 
 than  our  Churches ;  and  the  Theatre  is  more  fre- 
 quented than  the  Houl'eof  God.  And  therefore  it  is 
 for  inch  as  you  to  let  your  (elves  awork  to  rake  away 
 this  objection  which  they  will  not  take  away  them- 
 felves.  Do  you  fatisfic  them  that  thefe  days  are  no 
 i-eceifary  ciu'e  of  doing  evil,  by  your  own-  example  of 
 doing  good.  Leave  their  argument  no  force  at  all, 
 for  it  is  in  your  p.nvct  to  do  ir :  and  let  them,  lee  that 
 the  marriage  between  thefe  Feftivalsand  Profanenefs 
 is  not  fo  legitimate,  but  they  may  be  divorced.  De- 
 prive 
 
2 . 2  Tl?e  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 prive  them  of  this  colour,  and  leave  their  peevifhnefs 
 Co  naked,  that  it  may  be  expofed  to  the  view  of  all. 
 Or  if  they  have  taken  a  real  offence,  remove  it  out  of 
 rheir  way,  and  let  all  that  they  alledge  have  a  full  con- 
 futation in  your  holy  life.     Anlwerthem  by  your  be- 
 haviour, that  there  is  no  need  co  take  away  thefe  days} 
 for  you  can  take  away  all  the  wickednefs,   and  leave 
 them  (till  remaining.     Let  them  fee  that  you  can  reft 
 fiom  your  labours,  and  yet  not  fpend  your  whole  time 
 infportand  play.     Let  them  find  the  Bible  or  fome 
 good  Book  in  your  hand  oftner  than  they  do  the 
 Cards.     Let  your  Spirit  rejoyce  in  God  your  Saviour, 
 more  than  your  dedy  both  in  meat  and  drink.     Feed 
 your  foul  upon  the  Heavenly  myfteries  of  our  Reli- 
 gion, and  do  not  live  as  if  the  Saints  were  only  good 
 Purveyors  for  our  Kitchins.     So  will  you  both  bring 
 thefe  days  into  efteem  with  others,  and  your  felf  into 
 greater  favour  with  God.    And,  Ibefeechyou,  defire 
 all  you  know  that  they  would  not  flight  fuch  admo- 
 nitions as  thefe  I  give  you.     But  that  for  the  Honour  of 
 our  Lord,  for  the  credit  of  his  Church  who  hath  ap- 
 pointed thefe  folemnities,   for  the  love  of  their  own 
 fouls  who  are  intended  to  receive  the  benefit  of  them, 
 they  would  behave  themfelves  foberly  and  religioufly 
 at  iuch  feafons.  That  fo  the  Church  may  not  be  forced 
 to  do  with  thefe  as  it  hath  done  with  the  Feafts  of 
 Love,  and  other  rites  ufed  by  the  Apoftles  themfelves, 
 i.  e.  abolifli  and  banifh  them  becaufe  of  mens  obfti- 
 nate  abufe  of  them.     For  it  u  a  very  ah  ford  thing  (  as 
 cne  of  the  ancient  Guides  faith)  toftudy  to  honour  the 
 Martyrs  with  too  much  j "nine fsirvho  rve  knovo  fie 'ajed  God 
 by  faflingand  abflinence.     It  is  a  prepofterous  way  of 
 doing    honour  to  our  Saviour,    by  pampering  and 
 pleafing  our  felves;    who  it  is  known  did  honour  his 
 
 Father 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  „ . 
 
 Tathcr  by  denying  himfelf,  and  defpifing  all  the  plea- 
 fures  of  the  Fieih.  Therefore  exhort  every  one  to  feaft 
 themfelves  with  an  holy  fear.  Let  them  make  Feafts 
 of  Charity,  and  doing  good  to  their  poor  neighbours. 
 Let  them  be  Feafts  of  Love  to  ;nake  us  friends  one 
 with  another.  Fcaftsof  the  Spirit  to  put  us  in  mind 
 of  the  joys  of  the  Lord,  and  the  eternal  Supper  of  the 
 Lamb. 
 
 And  now  I  think  I  may  have  leave  to  conclude  my 
 directions  (  having  put  you  into  the  hands  of  better 
 Cuides  than  my  felf)  the  turn  whereof  is  briefly  this: 
 Let  your  principal  defign  ever  be  to  knit  your  heart  to 
 the  Love  of  Jefui)  and  the  ardent  defire  of  being  with 
 h\m  at  Jerufalem.  Let  this  be  your  great  bufinefs  to 
 fet  your  Soul  directly  towards  the  place  where  he  is, 
 and  to  ftir  up  in  it  fuch  longings  as  thefe,  Oh  that  I  were 
 xvith  Jefus  I  when  (bull  I  come  to  Jefus  I  Andfincehe 
 is  the  Way  to  himfelf,  there  is  nothing  more  needful 
 for  the  accomplishing  your  defire,  than  to  propofe  him 
 before  your  eyes  for  your  imitation.  As  for  Prayer  ^Me- 
 ditation^ and  fuch  like  things,  they  are  to  be  defigned 
 to  this  end,  that  your  Love  to  him  may  be  inflamed, 
 your  Defire  after  him  increafed,  and  your  Refolution 
 of  doing  his  Will,  and  treading  in  his  Steps  be  made  un- 
 moveable.  Whatfoever  therefore  you  find  proper  to 
 advance  that  Love,  that  Defire,  that  Refolution,  be  it 
 Praying  or  Reading,  Difcourfing  or  Solitude^  Walking  or 
 Repofmgyour  [elf^ifitingof others  or  Keeping  at  home  - 
 make  ufe  of  it  for  the  time  that  your  Soul  relifhes  it-, 
 and  as  long  as  it  quickens  your  Defire  and  endeavour 
 of  enjoying  the  love  of  Jeftu,  and  the  blefied  fight  of 
 him  at  Jerusalem.  But  when  any  of  thefe  fhall  prove 
 if  kfome  to  you,  be  not  troubled  at  it,  bu:  try  for  that 
 H  h  time 
 
2 . .  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 time  fome  of  the  reft,  which  may  be  then  more  ufeful, 
 becaufemore  plcafant  to  you.  And  when  any  of  thofe 
 Enemies  I  have  mentioned  (hall  difturb  your  peace, 
 beat  them  off  as  foon  as  yon  can ;   but  be  not  troubled 
 becaufe  they  do  not  presently  yield,  provided  you  do 
 not  yield  to  '.hem  neither.     And  if  after  a  Victory  they 
 rally  in  the  fame  manner  again,    be  not  affrighted  at 
 that  neither,  as  if  now  they  had  greater  courage 5  but 
 endeavour  only  to  beat  them  as  before,  and  by  obtain- 
 ing a  new  Victory  to  mew  that  it  is  your  courage  which 
 isencrealed.    And  do  not  think  you  mall  be  in  dan- 
 ger tolofe  the  Victory  over  them,   if  you  fuffer  your 
 Bow  fometimes  to  be  unbent.     Do  not  think  a  Pilgi  im 
 muft  be  fo  fevere,    as  never  to  recreate  himfelf  in  the 
 way  he  goes.    By  perpetual  Watchings  and  labours 
 your  enemies  may  undo  you  as  well  as  by  any  other 
 means.    Take  but  heed  that  you  fall  not  into  their 
 Quarters  when  you  divert  your  fell,  and  let  but  your 
 pleafures  ftill  lie  in  your  way,   and  you  need  not  fear 
 to  make  ufe  of  them.    Remember  the  Example  of  the 
 Saints  of  God,  and  ftir  up  your  felf  to  imitate  their 
 zeal  and  their  difcretion  both  together.     And  reft  allu- 
 red (my  Friend)  that  this  good  Defire  thus  cherifhed, 
 thus  augmented,  and  thus  ftrongly  and  wifely  purfued, 
 will  bring  you  fafe  to  the  end  of  your  Pilgrimage  }  and 
 fet  your  feet  in  the  midft  of  Jerufalem^  where  I  (hall  be 
 right  glad  to  meet  you, 
 
 chap: 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim'.  23  5 
 
 CHAP.    XXIII. 
 
 yyh.it  entertainment  all  thefe  Difcourfes  met  veithxl 
 from  the  Pilgrim.  And  of  the  pleafures  be  fhould 
 find  in  his  way,  thugh  inemnhred  with  the  fore- 
 named  Enemies. 
 
 AN  D  now  I  am  fure  you  will  expect  to  hear  that 
 the  Pilgrim  broke  his  filence :  if  not  to  th-ink 
 this  perfon  for  the  fatisfa&ion  he  had  received,  yet  to 
 tell  him  how  much  he  thought  himfelf  engaged  oy  the 
 pains  which  he  had  raoft  friendly  taken  for  his  fatis- 
 faclion  in  the  way  to  Jerusalem.  But  yet  he  could  not 
 for  the  prefent  fpeak  fo  much  as  one  word  5  fuch  a 
 violent  paflion  feizing  on  him,  that  it  blockt  up  all 
 other  pallagesbat  only  thole  for  Tears.  Which  gu(h- 
 ing  out  apace,  and  leeking  for  more  vent  than  they 
 could  find,  caufed  a  greater  obftruclion,  and  were 
 ready  to  choak  not  only  his  Words,  but  alfo  Himfelf. 
 The  good  man  who  had  hitherto  been  his  Guide 
 thought  that  now  he  muft  become  his  Phyfician.  And 
 fearing  that  this  paflion  might  grow  to  fome  danger, 
 and  ful'peding  withal  that  it  was  the  effect  of  a  great 
 fadnefs  which  he  had  conceived  at  his  Difcourfe  •  He 
 went  to  him,  and  taking  him  by  the  hand,  intreated 
 him  to  refift  this  tide  fo  long,  till  he  could  take  fo  much 
 breath  as  to  tell  him  the  caufe  of  it.  Now  that  the 
 Pilgrim  might  (hew  how  obedient  he  was  like  to 
 prove  to  the  reft  of  his  Words,  he  ftrove  fo  earneftly 
 with  himfelf,  that  many  Minutes  were  not  pifled  be- 
 fore he  recovered  the  ufe  of  his  tongue,  and  was  able 
 thus'.to  fpeak  to  him.  You  have  obliged  me,  Sir,  fd 
 Hh  2  much 
 
i->6  The  Tar  able  of  the  Filgrim. 
 
 much  beyond  all  my  expr'effion  by  the  inftrucYions  yo  j 
 have  beftowed  upon  me,  chat  as  an  endeavour  to  do- 
 more  than  we  can,  doth  frequently  make  us  to  do  ju(t 
 nothing  at  all  \    to  I  felt  enough  from  thence  arifing  to 
 fUEe  my  words,    while  my  foui  laboured  fuch  expref- 
 fions  of  Gratitude  as  could  not  be  uttered.    My  Tears, 
 Sir,  could  only  tell  you  how  much  I  think  my  felf  in- 
 debted to  your  Charity.      For  they  did  not  fpring 
 from  Grief,  as  perhaps  you  might  imagine,  but  from  a 
 very  great  Joy,  which  ft  wed  partly  from  the  remem- 
 brance of  the  Providence  which  brought  me  hither, 
 and  partly  from  the  fenfe  of  your  friendly  love  ;    but 
 chiefly  from  the  good  news  you  tell  me,  that  the  way 
 to  fuch  a  Blefled  place  as  Jerufdem,  is  incumbred  with 
 no  greater  difficulties  than  you  have  related.     O  Sir, 
 I  am  overjoyed  to  hear  that  the  Journey  will  be  no 
 worfe.  It  is  a  beginning  of  the  pleafures  I  expeel:  there, 
 to  know  that  the  way  is  fo  good  ;   for  I  was  willing  to 
 have  undertaken  far  greater  things,    rather  than  tor- 
 fake  my  refolution  of  going  thither.     And  here  this 
 voice  was  intercepted  by  a  new  pafiion  like  to  the  for- 
 mer, though  it  was  not  long  before  it  had  fpenc  it 
 felf,  and  gave  him  liberty  to  utter  his  mind  as  freely  as 
 hepleafed* 
 
 But  before  he  could  begin  to  difcharge  himfelf  of 
 thofe  thoughts  with  which  his  Soul  feemed  to  be  filled, 
 the  other  prevented  him,  and  cold  him,  that  it  was  no 
 imall  joy  to  him  alio,  to  find  himfelf  deceived,  and  to 
 meet  with  fuch  a  flood  of  joy  in  that  place,  -where  he 
 feared  he  fhould  have  found  a  deluge  of  forrow.  And 
 fince,  faid  he,  you  take  fo  great  content  in  what  I  have 
 faid  about  the  way  lojerufalem^  which  others  hear 
 with  as  much  heaviness  as  you  did  withpleafuie;  I 
 
 ihall. 
 
77;e  Tarahle  of  the  Tilgrim,  2  2  7 
 
 /hall  give  you  a  frefh addition  of  joy  by  fomething  elfe 
 which  I  relervc'd  as  an  encouragement  to  you,  buc  now 
 1  fee. mud  be  a  pare  of  your  comforr.     And  truly  by 
 what  I  (ballfay,you  will  plainly  fee  how  well  Jef/ts  re- 
 wards his  fervants  that  are  willing  to  obey  him,  giving 
 them  far  more  than  they  durft  expect,  and  where  they 
 looked  for  nothing  but  trouble  and  anguifh,  caufiiig  joy 
 and  gladnefs  to  Spring  up  unto  them.     Y;u  fliall  never 
 meet,  I  am  confident,  with  work- entertainments,  than 
 I  have  mentioned  n    your  way  to  Jet-ufa/ftx,   unlefs 
 it  be  Dtatbjwhich  we  may  meet  with  every  where.  Buc 
 far  better  than  have  been  fpoken  of,  I  do  not  fear  to 
 promife,  if  the  directions  be  followed  which  have  been 
 delivcrecfto  you.     For  befides  the  pleafures  that  will 
 attend  all  your  Victories,    which  are  indeed  unfpeak- 
 able,  and  more  than  can  be  numbred ;  I  muft  tell  you, 
 there  is  much  contentment  to  be  fctchtfrom  the  con- 
 sideration of  the  way  you  are  to  go»    Though  in  ma- 
 ny places  it  may  be  rugged  and  hard,  as  ycu  already 
 perceive,   yet  it  is  -always  very  ftreighc  and  eafle  to 
 hit ;   having  none  of  thofe  windings  and  turnings  in  it 
 that  perplex  and  intricate  men  in  the  contrary  putaj 
 which,  me-thinks,  is  no  fmall  comfort  to  a  Traveller^ 
 Do  you  not  fee  how  many  thoufand  Arts-men  are  at 
 the  labour  to  devife  how  they  may  cheat  and  circirn- 
 vent  their  neighbours  ?    Whata  numberof  fliifts  they 
 are  put  unto  to  make  good  a  Lie,  and  to  palliate  a, 
 piece  of  knavery  1   W  hat  a  lot's  they  are  at  forneclmes 
 to  compafs  their  revenge  ,  or  to  fatisfie  an  uncharte 
 defire  ?    And  what  a  vaft  burden  of  cares  they  are  af- 
 flicted withal  who  do  not  depend  on  God  C    Wruc 
 troublefome  thoughts,    what  fears  and  frights,  what 
 difcontents  and  difgufts,    and  fuch  like  paifions  as  di- 
 fturb  iheir  quiet  they  are  continually  peftercd  with- 
 
aj  8  ^e  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim'. 
 
 *1W   There  is  none  can  tell  you  how  thefe  men  wan- 
 der up  and  down,  and  are  at  their  wits  end,   and  when 
 one  way  fails,   are  put  with  as  much  uncertainty  to  de- 
 vife  a  new,  to  attain  that  which  they  defign.     Where- 
 as the  ways  wherein  I  would  lead  you ,  are  fimple 
 and  plain,   and  lye  Co  openly  before  your  eyes,    that 
 you  need  not  ftudy  what  you  have  to  do.    Every  body 
 mayfoon  know  what  Juftice  is,   and  there  needs  no 
 Art  at  all  to  define  it.     To  live  purely,  to  forgive  ene- 
 mies, to  truft  in  God,   and  to  fpeak  the  truth,   are 
 things  of  no  intricacy,  and  will  not  torture  your  mind 
 for   one  moment  to  know  what  belongs  unto  them. 
 They  are  very  fkaight  paths,    and  there  are  no  laby- 
 rinths in  which  they  involve  you.     Bring  but  honelty 
 enough^  and  there  needs  not  much  wit,  and  no  cunning 
 at  all  to  follow  thefe  courfes.     Do  but  confider  this 
 well,  and  you  will  think  it  a  great  happinefs  to  follow 
 Jefus.     For  the  obtaining  of  whole  Love  and  Favour, 
 of  his  Reft  and  Peace,  you  need  not  ufe  any  bafe  Arts, 
 nor  praclife'deceitful  Tricks,  nor  work  Treafons,nor  be 
 at  the  charge  to  calumniate  your  neighbours,  nor  take 
 the  pains  to  lie  and  couzen,  to  cog  and  flatter,   to  hu- 
 mour the  lufts  of  men,  to  contradict  your  reafon,  and 
 wound  your  confcience.     It  will  coft  you  neither  bad 
 Nights,  nor  unquiet  Sleep,  nor  vexatious  Days,    nor 
 careful  thoughts ;  it  will  (land  you  neither  in  the  lofs 
 of  honour,  nor  the  lofs  of  life  and  happinefs ;   but  in 
 natural  and  eafie  ways,  in  pleafant  and  fafe  cour'cs  you 
 may  provide  for  the  immortality  of  them  both.  I  cannoc 
 but  call  them  pleafant,  becaufelam  allured  that  when 
 you  are  once  uied  to  the  Road,  you  will  find  the  mod 
 rugged  ways  to  be  more  delightful,  and  in  all  regards 
 more  eafie  to  the  Pilgrims  feet,  than  any  of  thofe  are, 
 which  lead  unto  the  oppofite  Countries.    The  greateft 
 ..-  difficulty 
 
The  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim.  ,  ?5> 
 
 difficulty  will  beat  the  firft  entrance,  as  indeed  it  ufes 
 tobein  the  beginning  of  all  other  labours ;  but  when 
 you  and  the  ways  are  once  acquainted,  1  am  confi- 
 dent you  will  not  be  perfwaded  to  turn  into  any  other 
 paths,  though  you  were  infallibly  alibied  they  would 
 lead  you  ro  the  imperial  Throne,  and  make  you  Lord 
 of  the  World.  There  is  never  a  ftep  of  your  Journey 
 fas  it  were  eafie  for  me  to  demonstrate  )  but  it  will 
 have  fomerhing  of  fweetnefs  in  it ;  ycur  foul  will  clofe 
 withj  every  thing  that  you  have  to  do,  no-iotherwife 
 than  your  ftomach  embraces  the  meat  it  loves  $  you 
 (hall  notftay  for  all  your  peace  till  you  come  to  Jefus- 
 at  Jerusalem,  but  he  will  make  you  know  that  all  his 
 rvxys  xre  pleafantnefs^  and  alibis  paths  are  peace. 
 
 And  here  I  cannot  but  call  to  mind  a  pretty  Fable;  D/on.Pmf. 
 eras  the  Author  of  it  faith,  a  mod  whclKom  and  fa-  ^  *•*•*«* 
 cred  Story,  under  the  Scheme,  and  in  the  Habit  of  a 
 Tale  i,  which  will  well  reprefeat  unco  you  the  eafinefs 
 and  pleafantnefs  of  the  way  to  Jerufalem^  and  much  en- 
 courage you  in  it.  It  is  defigned  indeed  to  mew  how 
 much  more  fafe,  facile,  and  happy  it  is  for  a  Prince  to 
 rule  his  Subjects  by  his  Laws,  than  by  an  abfolute  will, 
 and  licentious  power  ;  but  it  may  indifferently  ferve 
 to  inftruct  all  manner  of  perfons  (who  fe.jk  the  way  to 
 Happinefsas  well  as  they,  and  may  be  taught  by  their 
 great  examples)  how  fecurely  and  comfortably  they 
 live,  who  obferve  the  Laws  of  their  Saviour,  above 
 thofe  whofe  Luft  is  their  Law,  and  that  have  no  other 
 meafureofgoodnefs  but  their  own  fenfual  defues.  It 
 is  in  a  Writer,  I  grant,  that  knew  nothing  of  Jerttfalem^ 
 but  this  will  give  you  the  greater  plea  ure,  to  hear 
 that  your  way  thither  is  fo  lure,  that  you  may  learn 
 fomething  of  it  from  every  body ,  even  from  thoie 
 
 that 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim* 
 
 that  are  but  grangers  to  the  place.     The  Story  is  this  i 
 
 when  Hercules  was  yet  but  a  little  Youth  educated  at 
 Thcbes.Mercury  was  one  day  fent  to  him  from  Heaven, 
 that  he  might  make  a  trial  of  lots  inclinations,  and  encou- 
 rage him  in  all  vertuous  and  noble  undertakings.  For 
 this  endhe  carried  him  in  unknown  ways  to  the  top  of  an 
 high  Mountain,  which  it  would  be  too  long  to  give  you  a 
 defcription  of  an  my  Authors  words.  Thus  much  it  it 
 necefjary  for  you  to  know,  that  it  feemed  but  one  to  thofe 
 who  flood  at  the  foot  of  itj  having  but  one  root,  and  one 
 body  as  far  as  their  eyes  could  reach;but  indeed  was  par- 
 ted into  two  Hills  before  it  came  to  its  utmofl  height^ 
 which  were  alfo  very  widely  diflant  the  one  from  the  o- 
 ther.  The  one  of  the  [e  was  called  the  Royal  Tower  jW  the 
 Temple  of  King  Jupiter :  The  other  had  the  name  of  the 
 Tyrannical  Fort,  the  feat  in  old  time  of  the  proud  Ty- 
 phon,  whom  Jupiter  Jlruck  down  with  Thunder  from 
 Heaven.  To  thefe  two  there  was  a  fever al  accefs;andthe 
 way  to  that  where  Royalty  dwelt  was  very  fafe,wide  and 
 plaWyfothat  a  man  might  a  fee nd  even  in  a  chariot  to 
 that  lofty  place,  without  any  danger  or  fear  of  falling:  But 
 to  the  other  the  way  was  narrow^  crooked,  andfo  dange- 
 rous, that  a  man  mujl  creep  upon,  his  hands  and  feet 
 who  intended  to  come  thither.  Nay,  fo  full  of  hazard 
 it  was,  that  many  who  adventured  to  go  in  it,  had 
 been  {een  to  precipitate  themfelves,  and  were  utter- 
 ly lop  in  a  great  Lake  which  was  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
 To  thofe  who  beheld  them  afar  off,  they  feemed,  as  if  aid 
 before,  to  be  but  One  •  hut  the  Royal  Hill  was  far  mere 
 eminent, lifting  its  head  above  the  Region  of  the  Airland 
 enjying  the  benefit  of  the  pure  skie  •  and  the  other  was 
 more  depreffed,  having  a  cap  of  Clouds  continually  upon 
 its  head,fo  thick  andfggie,  that  they  made  it  an  obfeure 
 
 and 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  1 4 1 
 
 And  difmal  place.  Now  Hercules  being  brought  thither^ 
 and  having  the  nature  of  this  Mountain  thus  [bown  to 
 him,  was  already  touched  witbfo  much  ambit i<?n  as  to 
 defire  to  be  admitted  into  the  interiours  of  them  both, 
 which  he  had  nofooner  figmfied,  than  it  was  by  Mer- 
 cury granted,  who  [aid,  Follow  me ,  and  thou /bale 
 bebria.  mofi  clearly  the  vafl  difparity  ofthefe  two,  which 
 is  altogether  hid  from  the  eyes  of  Fools.  And  prefenlly 
 he  dt [covered  to  him  upon  the  top  of  the  former ,a  Woman 
 ftting  on  a  very  fplendid  Throne  :  who  was  exceeding 
 beautiful,  and  of  goodly  proportions,  cloathedin  white 
 rayment,ejr  having  a  Scepter  in  her  hand  neither  of  sil- 
 ver nor  Gold  h  bur  of  a  more  pure  andjbining  naturelike 
 to  that  which  Juno  weilds.  Her  countenance  was  com- 
 pofedofa  mixture  of  [miles  and  gravity  ;  [0  that  all  good 
 men  looked  confidently  upon  her,  and  the  evil  were  no 
 more  able  to  behold  her,  than  they  who  have  weak  eyes 
 can  indure  to  turn  them  to  the  Sun.  She  feemed  more- 
 over to  be  fo  fixed3and  always  like  her  [elf  that  her  coun- 
 tenance and  eyes  did  not  betray  [o  much  as  an  inclination 
 to  change  her  fe nous  [wee tne[s.  And  indeed  it  was  ad- 
 mirable to  fee  the  quiet, peaceablene[s  &  confiant  temper 
 of  that  place,  to  behold  the  plenty  of  fair  fruit,  which  it 
 every  where  yielded,and  to  obferve  how  all  the  creatures 
 of  every  kind  which  lived  there,  did  skip  and  dance 
 round  about  it,  as  if  they  were  tickled  with  an  inward 
 pleafure.  Of  Gold  and  Silver,  and  other  Metals,  there 
 lay  great  heaps  before  her-,andyet  [he  feemed  to  bepleafid 
 with  none  ofthem^  but  only  in  the  fruits  and  in  the  fe- 
 veral  creatureswhichfhe  beheld  in  fuch  contentment [ar- 
 rounding  her.  when  Hercules  there  fore  had  fixed  his  eyes 
 a  while  upon  her, he  blufljed  exceedingly^  fell  down  in  a. 
 humble  veneration  of  her, no  otherwise  than  as  a  dutiful 
 Child  would  do  before  a  brave  and  generous  Mot  her.  A  fid 
 I  i  having 
 
*4*  *&*  PtrMt  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 h wing  At  UJi  demanded  of  Mercury  the  name  and  con- 
 dition of  this  per fon,  be  told  him,  that  it  was  the  blejfed 
 and  heavenly  Queen,  B  A  S 1 L  E  A,  the  Daughter  of 
 King  Jupiter ,whomhe  faw  attended  with  many  fair  La- 
 dies that  were  eafie  to  be  di  [cover  ed,and  of  no  lefs  Nobi- 
 lity than  the  Queen  her  felf.  It  is  true  replyed  the  young 
 man,  I  behold^  to  my  no  [mall  fat  is  faff  ion,  fever  al divine 
 perfons  waiting  upon  that  Heaven  born  bifilczy  but  may 
 ibefo  happy  as  to  know  their  Names  alfo  ?  She,  faid 
 Mercury,  on  the  Queens  right  hand,  who  looks  upon  us 
 with  afiern  mild  countenance  ^Juftice,  a  per fen  of  great 
 account^  and  very  beautiful:  Hard  by  her  there Jrandt 
 Uprightnefs,  or  Integrity  ;  who  is  fo  like  the  former, 
 that y oh  canfearce  know  them  afunder,  and  is  not  infe- 
 riour  to  her  in  faimefs.  As  for  her  whom  thou  be' 
 holdefl  on  the  other  hand}  a  woman  very  fpecious  and 
 goodly,  bravely  do  at  he  d,  andfmiltng  on  us,  her  name  is> 
 Peace.  She  thatjlandsjujl  before  the  Queen,  and  even- 
 touches  her  Scepter,  an  antient  gray -headed  Matron, 
 firong,  and  as  thotteafily  feeji,  very  magnanimous,  she- 
 if  called  Law,  or  as  others  fometimes  name  her,  Right 
 Reafon,  A  per fon  who  u  of  her  ?t -ivy  Council,  and  ne- 
 verfiirs from  her,  without  whom  it  is  a  crime  to  do,,  or 
 fo  much  as  to  think  any  thing. 
 
 It  would  be  too  tedious  to  relate  how  the  T  out  h  was  raf- 
 vijhedwith  this  fight,  andhowhe  endeavoured  to  print 
 his  wind  with  it,  fo  that  he  m-'ght  never  forget.  But  in 
 (hort,  he  gazed  fo  long  upon  Baiilea,  and  her  Royal  At- 
 tendants, that  Mercury  was  fain  to  call  to  hint,  and  bid 
 him  not  to  fpend  his  whole  time  in  that  contemplation, 
 but  to  defcend  a  little  w'.thhim.and  look  a  while  upon  the 
 other  place  alfo,  which  was  not  unworthy  of  his  obfervx- 
 tion.    And  indeed  he  thought  with  him  felf  that  it  might 
 
 be 
 
77;<?  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim,  t^ 
 
 be  ufeful  to  him  as  well  as  this,  and  therefore  he  willingly 
 conjentmg  to  go  whither  he  would  carry  him,  Mercury 
 injlantly  brought  him  to  a  certain  path  which  led  to  the 
 Tyrannical  T  ower.  There  they  [aw  a  great  number  who 
 waited  for  an  opportunity  to  crowd  into  it  (jhe  way,  as  I 
 toldyou,  being  very  narrow)  and  many  that  were  con- 
 tending, yea,  killing  o/.e  the  other  to  force  their  pajfage. 
 The  Father  there  was  murdering  his  children,  the  chil- 
 dren dragged  their  Parents  to  cxccution,andone  Brother 
 imbrued  his  hands  in  another s  blood :  Deilring  nothing 
 elfe  but  the  greateft  evil,  and  calling  that  the  higheit 
 Happinefc,  which  his  only  Power  and  Folly  married 
 together.  Andfirjt  of  all  he  bad  him  take  noticeof the 
 entrance  to  that  place,  how  dangerous  it  was,  bow  full  of 
 precipices, and  bow  it  was  Jo  undermined  in  fever  alp  aj- 
 J  ages, that  the  earth  was  ready  to  fall  under  thofe  who  trod 
 upon  it.  All  the  way  likewij  he fhowedhim  was  bejmeard 
 with  bloody  and  paved  with  skulls  and  dead  mens  bones, 
 fo  that  he  J  a  w  it  was  not  jit  to  let  htmfet  bis  foot  in  itjbut 
 be  carriedhim  in  a  fairer  tract  to  an  advantageous  place, 
 where  he  might  take  a  juft  profpetf  of  that  part  of  the 
 Mountain  whereon  Tyranny  hadfeatedher [elf  To  a 
 great  height  Jhe  was  rai[ed,t  hough  (as  I  noted  before)Jhe 
 ctuld  not  beclevatedtofucb  a  pitches  to  free  her  [elf from 
 the  vapours  and  mifls  which  infetf  thefe  lower  Regions. 
 But  he  could  clearly  difcern  thatjbe  Jludied  to  be  like  the 
 incomparable  Bzfiki.and  therefore  feigned  and  counter- 
 feited as  much  as  fbe  could  the  face  ,the  geftures  jhe  very 
 Air  of  that  Queen  of  Beauties  ;N  ay  her  Throne  (eemedto 
 be  far  higher  <jr  better  than  the  others  paving  many  fair 
 Jiulptures  upon  it,  and  being  adornedwith  Gold,  Ivory, 
 Ebony,  andjuch  like  varieties,  as  Riches  fur  nifbed  her 
 withal:  But  yet  the  foot  of  the  Throne  was  not  fixed,  nor 
 could  all  the  wca'thjbe  was  Mtfirefs  of,  procure  tthat  it 
 I  i  2  might 
 
■■■ 
 
 2  44  ^  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim* . 
 
 might  ft  and  f aft  without  any  [baking  or  tottering  at  alt' ' 
 Nor  was  there  any  thing  orderly  and  handsomely  difpofed 
 about  her^but  every  thing  was  fashioned  to  comport  with 
 the  Ends  of  Glory,  Pride  and  Luxury y  which  in  truth 
 reigned  over  her,asjbe  over  others.  Many  Scepters  there 
 were  in  her  hand,  and  more  than  one  Diadem  upon  her 
 he  ad -j  hut  thy  could  not  make  her  beautiful,  because  the 
 mere  jhe  ft  tidied  to  imitate  the  others  manners,  the  more 
 defcrmedand ugly  fbe  appearedwhenfbe  tf/ought  to  come 
 forthwith  her -friendly  fmiles,the  eyes  oftbofe  that  lookt 
 upon  her  were  entertained  with  nothing  but  a  bafe  and 
 pithy  kind  of  crafty  gain      In  ft  e  ad  alfo  of the  Gravity 
 which  ft)  e  affected,  aftrange  fercenefs  and  terrour  dif- 
 covered  it  felf  in  her  looks. Nay  jbat  fbe  might  feem  mag- 
 nanimous fbe  would  not  oftencajl  ier  eyes  on  thofewho  ap- 
 proached herybttt  turn  them  another  way  with  a  lofiy  atf- 
 dain;wherebyfhe  became  the  obf  eel  of  all  mens  hatred,as 
 they  were  of  her  fcorn.Care  fbe  took  of  no  body  but  bsrfelf-  >. 
 nor  could  fbe  by  all  her  care  make  her  felfto  fit  in  quiet  ; 
 but  often  flared  round  about  her,andflarted  up, or  leaped 
 out  of  her  Throne,  as  if  fbe  fate  uncafi'y,  or  apprehended  > 
 fome  approaching  danger .Gold fbe  fome times filthily  kept 
 in  her  very  bofom  ;  fome  times  in  a  fright  threw  it  abroad 
 among  the  people^  and  then  again  [hatched  it  out  of  their 
 hands, and  was  fo  greedy  of  it  jtbatjbe  pillaged  every  body 
 that  had  but  the  leafl grain  of  it  abent  them..    And  mt  to- 
 name  her  garments  which  he  fays  were  of  divers  colours, 
 fbe  her  felf  ufed  to  be  of  as  many  colours  a.i  they.     Bein% 
 fometimesin  Fears  Sometimes  in  Anger  ^Sometimes  trcu- 
 bledwith aft  ofjealoufte,  andfometimes over-confident 
 of her  felf and others.  Now  beingveryhumbie  andfervile-, 
 arid  prefently  after  proud  and  infolent ;  at  this  moment 
 laughing  very  loudly,  and  the  next  as  bitterly  bewailing 
 feme  misfortune  or  other.   They  that  were  about  her  aft 
 
 nere ;  I 
 
77;e  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ?45 
 
 vtcre  as  different  from  the  Attendants  beforenamd.asfh; 
 btrfelf  was  from  tbcQvecn.Tbcir  names  were^Qrucuy^ 
 Cmu.i'ii'ly,  Iniquity  jWSedition.,  who  all ferved  only 
 to  cor-  -<pt  her  and  bring  he  r  to  deft { ruction.  And  I  muff 
 mt forget  to  relate  jh  at  infleadof  Friendfbip^f  which  ad 
 are  in  jo  great  need,  jbe  was  daily  attended  by  afervile 
 and  illiberal  fellow  called  Flattery  y\ho  was  no  left  trea- 
 cherous to  her  than  the  reff,  and  indeed  above  ail  others 
 fought  her  mine.  He  rtas  ever  ffudying  to  form  plea fmg 
 prop  (it  ions ;  and  if  they  were  but  grateful  to  her  it  was 
 fuffic:cnt,  for  be  never  took  any  care  about  the  good  or 
 hurt  that  was  in  them.  It  was  a  wonder  to  obferve  the 
 Arts  whereby  he  insinuate dbimfelf  into  her  mind :  what 
 a  flricl  intelligence  he  kept  with  her  pafjionsiandbow  he 
 feized 'on  all the  avenue  s^  and  lockt  up  all the  paffages  of 
 her  foul  when  he  was  once  peffefjedof  it,  that  none  could 
 be  admitted  to  fucb  a  confidence  as  himfelf.  He  was  ever 
 wbifpering  feme  of  his  leud  Maxims  into  her  ear,  and 
 breathing  feme  vitious  Counfel  er  other  into  her  heart  : 
 But  hi  did  it  fo  [oftly  that  they  could  then  hear  nothing 
 that  he  f aid,  andtherefore  he  that  relates  the  flory  hath 
 reported  nothing  of  it.  But  I  have  been  informed  by  ano- 
 ther who  hath  approached  very  near  to  the  fecrets  of  that 
 yillany,  that  he  was  wont  to  advance  fuch  doctrines  as 
 thefe.  That  a  Prince  ought  not  to  fuffer  himfelf  to.  be> 
 hundwitb  the  fetters  of  Laws. That  it  was  below  htm  to 
 be  fubjecf  to  the  Fancies  <jr  Vifions  of  ancient  L'fgifh'tors.. . 
 Tint  every  thing  was  juff  which  was  his  Will.  And  that 
 it  was  a  weak  and  feeble  thing  to  feck  to  be  beloved.-  A 
 nreat  fpirit  oit^ht  rather  to  indeavour  to  make  himfelf 
 fearediandat  the  moff,  hefbouldonlfaim  at  this  that  he 
 m'^bt  not  be  hated.  Nay  I  have  heard th it hefhould  fay 
 {and  I  %ive  you  the  very  words  of  the  per fo/i  from  whom 
 I  badrt)TbatIlpnefry  was  the  Vcrtue  of  a  Merchant. and 
 
 not     ■ 
 
i46  The  f  arable  of  the  Vilgrhn. 
 
 not  of  a  Soveraign.  That  in  Heaven  they  put  the  very  . 
 Oxths  of  Princes  in  the  feme  fcales  with  thofe  of  Lovers. 
 That  j  .'.piter  commands  them  to  be  thrown  into  the  wind 
 as  trivial  things,  and  of  no  value.  For  this  he  alledged 
 Come  Poet. for  they  were  all  the  Divines  which  he  confut- 
 ed, and  were  frequently  alfo  abitjed  by  him.  And  fo  in  a 
 way  of  Fooling  and  telling  of  Tales  heperfwaded  her  that 
 fire  need  not  keep  her  word,  nor  tye  her  [elf  to  follow  any 
 thino  elfe  but  her  own  dc fires,  it  would  be  too  long  to 
 tell  you  how  ingenious  this  per fon  was  in  inventing  p  lea- 
 fur  es  ;  and  how  he  ft  tidied  to  indear  himfelf by  fh  armful 
 fervices.  And  in  deed  moji  of  thofe  things  were  then  con- 
 cealed and  had  a  curtain  drawn  before  them,  only  thus 
 much  he  over-  heard'.That  he  year  ed  at  rertue,and  laught 
 at  Piety  as  a  fneaking  quality  ^and  the  effect  of  a  creeping, 
 weak  and fuperftitious  mind.  And  that  be  commended 
 a  voluptuous  life  out  of  all  measure,  calling  them  Fools 
 whofc  nice  and  delicate  confeiences  made  them  rude  and 
 cruel  to  their ftefh. 
 
 I  Now  when  Hercules  had  carefully  viewed  this  Golden- 
 Creature  with  all  her  Servants, as  well  as  he  had  done  the 
 other  •  Mercury,  according  to  his  commiffion  demanded 
 of  him,  that  hefhould  tell  him  truly  which  of thefe  did 
 pleaje  him  be  ft, and  was  held  by  him  in  great  eft  admirati- 
 on. To  which  heprefently  replyed,  /ngoodfadnefs,  the 
 former  feemed  to  me  fo  glorious,  that  I  not  only  loved  and 
 admired  her,  but  took  her  for  a  Goddefs,  and  thought  her 
 worthy  ofworfhtp  and  Imitation :  But  this  is  fo  odious 
 and  abominable  in  my  opinion,  that  I  would \gUdly  ha-:  e 
 the  liberty  to  throw  her  headlong  from  this  high  rock, and 
 break  her  neck.  You  know  how  much  I  loath  the  bruti/l- 
 nefs  of  her  life  (  continued  he,  as  fome  Authors  relate  ) 
 and  how  I  defpife  all  her  bafe  and  fordid  pie  a  fur  es*    For 
 
 when 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  7*7 
 
 when  Pleafure  her  [elf  appeared  to  me  in  a  vfion,  and 
 presented  me  with  all  her  beauties  ;you  may  vp ell  remem- 
 ber how  I  [corned  her  courtjbip,  and  revived  to  embrace 
 laborious  Vertue  as  the  Mifirefs  of  greater  pleasures. 
 The;  efore  if  it  be  not  lawful  for  me  to  lay  Violent  hands 
 en  that  Fury  yet  let  the  Heavens  fpum  her  into  that  con- 
 dition ,which  Jbe  kicks  others  down  into  ■  and  let  not  pro- 
 sperous Impiety  be  always  he  Id  as  good  as  Vertue,  This 
 heat  of his ^Mercury  repreffed.and  bad  him  have  patience 
 in  >is  great  ejteem  as  any  of  the  Vertue  s  he  bad  beheld* 
 but  his  "Judgement  which  he  had  given  in  favour  of  Ba- 
 filea  he pr ai fed  and  commended  as  it  did  deferve,  and 
 having  told  it  unto  Jupiter,  that  was  the  tbiug,  they  fay, 
 •which gained  him  the  Empire  of  the  world,  and  moved 
 the  Heavens  to  commit  all  Mankind  to  his  care  and 
 Government. 
 
 I  doubt  I  have  tired  you  with  this  long  Story,  but 
 I  (hall  not  troub'e  you  much  further.  Nor  {hall  I 
 ftudy  to  (how  you  how  fitly  may  hence  bereprefented 
 theHappinefsof  all  other  men  in  rheir  feveral  condi- 
 tions who  take  the  ways  of  Piety,  and  the  MifeYy  of 
 all  the  reft  who  tread  in  any  other  path  ;  for  you  are 
 of  capacity  to  do  this  fervice  for  your  felf.  Ail  that  I 
 (hall  fay  is  only  this,  That  to  the  men  of  this  world 
 they  feem  the  very  fame  as  the  Mountain  in  the  ftory 
 did:  And  becaufe  all  things  here  fall  alike  to  all,  they 
 think  it  is  all  one  what  courfe  a  man  holds  if  it  be  but 
 conformable  to  his  own  appetite.  But  you  may  look 
 upon  mc  if  you  pi  cafe  as'ftandingin  the  place  and  qua- 
 lity of  a  Mercury  to  you,  to  (hew  you  the  Holy  Hill  of 
 God,  and  the  beauteous  City  v  hich  is  built  upon  it, 
 .  andtheGlorious  Monarch  v.  hich  inhabits  it,  together 
 with  the  way  v.  hich  leads  thrher,  and  ihevaft  advan- 
 tages- 
 
2_ .  8  TI*  flVafc/e  of  the  Pilgrim] 
 
 cages  which  it  hath  over  that  Babel  which  men  have 
 built  in  their  own  fancies,  and  which  would  fain  reach 
 up  to  Heaven,  but  tumbles  down  together  with  them 
 into  endlefs  ruine.     And  truly  I  cannot  but  fancy  you 
 to  be  another  couragious  Hercules,    who  feeing  how 
 high  the  afcent  to  that  City  is,  and  over  what  difficul- 
 ties you  are  to  climb,  yet  are  not  ac  all  difmay'd,   but 
 j  refolvcd  to  march  in  the  way  thither,   though  all  the 
 'Silver  and  Gold,    all  the  Jollity  and  pleaiure  of  the 
 World  mould  lye  in  the  way  on  the  other  fide.     The 
 Heavens  no  doubt  applaud  your  choice,    and  they  bid 
 me  tell  you  it  (hall  be  well  rewarded,    nay,  I  have  al- 
 ready mown  you  that  you  mult  needs  be  more  happy 
 inthatcourfe  than  in  any  elfe  that  can  be  invented. 
 For  though  the  Hill  be  high  and.  fteep  which  you  are 
 to  mount,   yet  the  way  is  plain  and  eafie,   pleafures 
 guard  it  round  about,   and  a  glorious  place  it  brings 
 you  unto  at  the  laft.     As  you  will  totally  eicape  thoie 
 ,  ways  wherein,  according  to  the  ftory  now  told,  there 
 are  nothing  but  intricacy  and  uncertainty,   mifts  and 
 darknefs,  trouble  and  forrow,    anxiety  and  difquiet, 
 and  in  a  word  a  great  deal  of  pains  to  make  a  man 
 doubly  miferable:  So  you  will  be  conducted  in  plain 
 natural,   and  unpcrplexcd  paths,  in  paths  of  pleafure 
 and  peace,   of  confidence  and  ailiirance,   of  light  and 
 ferenity,of  fetlednefs  andfteadinefs  of  mind,  which  will 
 not  let  you  be  a  ftranger  to  an  abundant  happinefs. 
 I  know  the  pretended  fatisfaclions  in  the  other  way 
 may  make  a  greater  mow,  and  appear  more  fplendid, 
 accompanied  with  more  pomp  and  noife:   but  if  you 
 be  in  love  witli  ftill  and  filent  joys,   with  grave  de- 
 lights and  ferious  pleafures,  they  are  only  to  be  found 
 in  th  s  way  which  I  have  pointed  you  unto.     You  (hall 
 never  tremble  in  the  midft  of  thefe  enjoyments,  nor 
 
 mall 
 
The  f  arable  of  tie  Pilgrim.  249 
 
 (hall  you  be  troubled  with  fear  left  you  (hould  lofe  your 
 happinefs.     There  are  no  mock-  Tmiles  here,  when  the 
 heart  is  wrung  within :   but  the  eafe  of  the  mind  makes 
 the  countenance  fmooth,  and  the  joy  of  the  heart  cafts 
 a  fplendor  into  the  eyes,    and  a  fweetnefs  into  the  face. 
 You  (hall  never  be  flittered  and  cheated  here  with  the 
 delufions  of  momentary  piealures:  but  every  tafte  you 
 have  of  joy  (hall  bean  alTuranceof  an  everlaftiqg  feli- 
 city.    Nay,  you  (hall  give  a  great  joy  to  others  alfo, 
 and  pleafe  them  as  well  as  your  felf.    You  (hall  make 
 all  that  are  about  you  to  rejoyce,  and  their  content- 
 ment will  be  an  addition  to  your  own.    The  fatisfa- 
 clion  of  making  others  happy,  and  feeing  them  full  of 
 comfort  by  your  means,  will  not  let  you  doubt  of  your 
 own  happinefs,  nor  want  that  peace  which  you  give  to 
 them.    And  then  after  all  this,  you  (hall  find  your  felf 
 at  laft,  though  not  made  Mafter  of  all  this  World ; 
 yet  brought  to  Jerusalem  the  City  of  the  great  King, 
 of  the  Lord  of  all  *  there  to  reign  with  him  in  eternal 
 Glory. 
 
 CHAP.  XXIV. 
 
 Upon  the  Pilgrims  requefl,  the  Guide  enters  into  a  fur- 
 ther defer  iption  of  the  Pleafures  of  the  Way  to  Jeru- 
 faiem ;  and  dnfrvers  fame  fcruples  of  his  about  it.  The 
 difficulty  of  the  beginning  of  his  journey.  Of  taking 
 up  the  Crojs  that  might  lie  in  his  way  •  and  fuch  like 
 things, 
 
 I  Will  not  undertake  to  exprefs  to  you  the  filent  ad- 
 miration wherewith  the  Pilgrim  entertained  this 
 difcourfe.    He  looked  upon  him  with  no  lefs  wonder 
 K  k  than 
 
250  The  ftarahleoftheTil&rim,. 
 
 than  if  he  had  thought  him  an  Envoy  from  Heaven* 
 and  taken  him  to  bedifpatched  with  amefl'age  imme- 
 diately from  God  to  tranfport  him  thither.     He  was 
 almoft  loft  in  a  new  paiTion,    and  if  it  had  not  been 
 for  fear  that  the  good  man  would  here  make  an  end  if 
 he  did  not  entreat  him  to  continue  his  difcourfe,   he 
 had  abandoned  himftlf  to  thofe  pleafant  imaginations 
 which  the  telling  of  that  ftory  had  raifed  in  his  mind. 
 But  recovering  himfelf  from  their  inricements ,    he 
 got  leave  of  them  to  fpeak  to  his  Guide  to  this  ef- 
 fect.    Ah  Sir,  what  a  favour  have  you  done  me  i  In- 
 to what  a  delightful  train  of  thoughts  have  you  led 
 me?    It  is impoflible  to  relate  the  pleafure  you  have 
 now  given  me.     I  do  not  think  that  your  felf  can  be- 
 ftovv  the  like  upon  me  by  any  other  means,   but  only 
 by  making  this  Story  a  little  longer.      You  do  it  a 
 great  deal  of  wrong,  I  allure  you,  in  calling  it  tedious  > 
 for  if  it  were  la  vful  to  gratifie  my  felf  in  the  way  that 
 Ifanfiemoft,   I  mould  wifh  that  it  might  laft  to  the 
 end  of  my  life.     You  are  a  true  Mercury'vn&zzd-,    the 
 Orator  of  the  Great  King,   the  interpreter  of  God. 
 Youarefent  to  do  me.a  double  kindncfs  ;  firft  to  be. 
 my  Guide,   and  then  to  ravifh  me  into  the  way  you 
 fhew  me,  by  your  eloquence.     May  not  the  celeftial 
 natures  be  prefumed  to  have  fome  Patience,    as  well  as 
 fomuch  Charity  <   Shall  I  offend  you  if  1  defire  a  more 
 particular  defcription  of  the  eafe  and  pleafure  which 
 you  promife  me  in  my  way  <   or  cannot  you  flay  fo 
 long  as-to  pull-a  little  fcruple  out  of  my  mind,    and  tell 
 me  how  this  way  can  be  lb  broad  as  your  Story  faith, 
 fincel  have  learnt  of  one  more  Sacred  that  it  isftrait 
 and  narrow  ?   I  know  I  am  indebted  to  you  but  too 
 much  for  the  favours  you  have  already  doneme ;  And 
 except  it  be  in  my  hearty-  wiflies  I-  can  never  be  fo 
 
 bountiful 
 
The  f arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  2  5 1 
 
 bountiful  as  you  have  been.  But  yet  give  me  leave  to 
 fay  that  this  exceflive  freenefs,  is  a  temptation  to  run 
 further  in  your  debt.  If  you  had  been  more  referved 
 at  the  firft,  you  had  made  me  more  modeft  5  but  now 
 that  you  have  been  fo  prodigal  of  your  counfel,  par- 
 don me  if  I  think  that  I  have  nothing  elfe  to  accufe  of 
 my  confidence,  I  f  you  would  not  have  had  me  become 
 fuch  a  Beggar,  you  mould  not  have  been  fo  generous : 
 you  mould  either  have  withheld  your  hand  fooner,  or 
 not  be  offended  that  I  implore  a  frefti  tafte  of  your  li- 
 berality. Go  on,  good  Sir,  to  add  my  obligations : 
 for  though  they  are  lo  great  already,  that  you  force  me 
 to  be  ungrateful  by  leaving  me  no  power,  not  fo  much 
 as  that  of  words,  to  thank  you ;  yet  let  me  fee  you 
 take  fuch  a  plea fure  in  doing  of  good,  that  you  think 
 your  felf  fufficiently  paid  for  what  you  have  done , 
 by  gaining  mens  wills  to  a  hearty  defire  of  receiving 
 more. 
 
 I  am  no  Mafter  of  eloquence,  faid  the  Guide,  but 
 you  are  beholden,  as  I  told  you,  to  a  Stranger  for  that 
 pleafant  description.  It  is  enough  for  me  if  I  can  point 
 at  the  w^y  to  Heaven,  and  give  you  fome  plain  and 
 familiar  directions  how  to  find  it.  But  you  muft  per- 
 fwadeyour  felf  to  learn  and  follow  thofe  inftruttions,, 
 and  notexpecttheafliftanceof  any  Rhetorick  of  mine 
 to  woo  your  heart  to  entertain  them.  And  truly  if  I 
 may  judge  by  what  you  juft  now  faid,  you  have  power 
 enough  in  your  own  hands  to  charm  your  affections, 
 and  infinuate  what  I  teach  you  into  their  favour.  You 
 may  be  indebted  to  your  felf  more  than  to  me ;  and  owe 
 your  happinefs  'rather  to  your  own  perfwafion,  than 
 any  Oratory  that  I  can  imploy.  But  yet  if  jyou  can  be 
 content  with  fuch  dry  narrations,  as  I  am  able  to  make^ 
 Kk  2  you 
 
Tft  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 you  cannot  demand  any  thing  with  more  eafe,  than  I 
 ihall  yield  to  the  fatisfaclion  of  your  defires.  It  will 
 be  no  trouble  to  me,  I  allure  you,  to  prolong  my  dif- 
 courfeonthis  delightful  theme,,  and  I  (hall  more  gra- 
 tifiemy  felf  thereby  than  obligeyou  ;,  though  I  muft 
 needs  fay  that  I  think  there  is  not  fo  much  need  of  it  as 
 you  may  imagine.  You  may  take  this  upon  my  credit, 
 that  you  will  better  experiment  the  pieafure  of  your 
 way  as  you  go  along,  than  it  is  poffible  to  perceive  it 
 bythemoft  accurate  defcription  which  can  be  made 
 of  it  by  the  Pen  or  Tongue  of  man.  You  have  often,  no 
 doubt,  tafted  the  fweetnefs  of  Honey  :  but  fuppofe  you 
 had  only  feen  the  golden  colour  of  it  with  your  eyes, 
 or  only  heard  a  graceful  Speaker  make  an  Oration  in 
 its  praife,  would  either  of  thefe  have  made  you  ac- 
 quainted with  it,  fo  well  as  one  little  lick  with  your 
 tongue  is  able  to  do  I  The  cafe  is  not  at  all  different 
 here,  and  therefore  begin  to  profecute  your  resolution 
 prefently  of  travelling  to  Jcrufalem  •,  go  to  the  ways 
 themfelves  to  learn  their  pleafantnefs  •  for  they  will 
 teach  you  more  in  an  inftant,  than  I  can  do  by  many 
 of  my  long  Difcourfes.  But  yet  that  ycu  may  not  ima- 
 gine I  put  you  off,  and  refer  you  thither  only  to  fpare 
 my  pains,  I  /hall  at  leaft  give  you  fome  fausfa&ion  in. 
 the  truth  of  what  I  fay,  and  convince  yourreafon  that 
 you  muft  needs  find  the  ways  you  are  to  pafs  very  de- 
 Kghtfulnotwithftanding  all  thofc  difficulties  which  you 
 may  meet  withal. 
 
 All  the  actions  of  nature  you  will  grant  to  be  very 
 pleafant,  for  they  flow  from  us  with  eafe  and  facility  • 
 and  they  alfo  tickle  us  as  they  pafs  along,  becaufe  they 
 runfmoothly,  and  do  not  grate  upon  us.  Now  there 
 is  nothing  plainer  than  that  the  ways  of  Temperance, 
 
 Charity ■, 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim*.  2  ^ 
 
 Charity,  Truft  inGod,  and  fuch  like  wherein  you  are 
 to  walk,  are  mod  conformable  to  the  right  frame  and 
 constitution  of  your  foul.     You  will  move  confonantty 
 to  your  own  Principles  which  God  hath  naturally  in- 
 dued you  withal :  you  will  but  follow  the  inclination 
 of  rational  nature,  and  that  in  its  higheft  improvement, 
 which  mud  needs  yield  you  the  higheft  delight  and 
 fatisfadtion.     Will  you  but  be  pleafed  for  the  proof  of 
 this  to  ask  your  foul  a  few  Qjeftions  <  I  am  confident: 
 if  it  go  about  to  refolve  them,icVill  give  it  felf  a  fenfe 
 of  the  goodnefsofthe  paths  of  Piety;  and  without  any 
 other  evidence  than  they  carry  in  themfelves,   it  will 
 pronounce  that  they  are  far  eafier,   and  fo  infinitely 
 more  fweet  than  any  that  oppofe  them.     I  appeal  to 
 you,  and  to  all  the  World,  whecheritbenotabufinefs 
 of  quicker  difpatch  to  forgive  an  injury,    than  to  take 
 revenge  for  it  f  whether  he  doth  not  more  feek  his 
 own  eafe  and  repofe,  who  ftudies  to  forget  the  malice 
 of  men  towards  him,  than  he  that  fuflfersthe  remem- 
 brance of  ic  to  ferment  and  boil  perpetually  in  his 
 mind  i  Is  it  not  a  bufinefs  of  lefs  difficulty  to  be  peace- 
 able and  quiet,  than  to  be  ever  contending,  quarrelling 
 and  falling  out  with  our  neighbours?    And  what  toil 
 is  there  in  fitting  ftill,  and  not  fo  much  as  lifting  up  our 
 hands,    and  on  the  other  fide  what  labour  infighting, 
 and  beating,  and  wounding  one  another?  Is  it  not  far 
 more  eafie  to  hold  ones  peace,  than  to  rail  and  revile, 
 asmuchaswepleafe?    Which  puts  us  to  more  pains?' 
 to  fay  nothing  but  well  of  others,   cr  to  be  always 
 finding  fault,  and  ftill  fpeaking  evil  of  'them  i  Meek- 
 nefs  teems  to  me  to  be  far  lefs  troublefome  than  anger 
 and  rage.     Charity  is  more  eafie  and  delightfome, 
 than  covetoufnefs  and  fcraping  up  of  wealth.     To 
 drink  little  is  fooner  and  eafier  done,   than  to  drink 
 
 and 
 
%  .  4  The  far  able  of  the  Vtlgrm. 
 
 and  fwill  as  if  we  were  in  a  perpetual  Feaver.     And! 
 cannot  fee  what  fliould  hinder  you  from  confefling  in- 
 flantly  that  it  is  a  thing  of  far  more  eafe  and  facility  to 
 live  by  Faith  iu  Go  I,   to  depend  on  his  providence  in 
 honeft  ways,  and  co  caft  our  burden  upon  him,    than 
 to  be  always  careful  and  felicitous,   to  be  ever  vex- 
 ing our  felves  with  worldly  thoughts,   and  to  be  de- 
 viling (hifcs  and  naughty  Arts  how  to  get  more  than 
 we  need.    Is  it  any  burden  to  praife  God  for  theblef- 
 fings  he  fends  us  i    Or,  is  it  not  more  natural  than  to 
 praife  and  commend  our  felves,   to  which  all  men  feem 
 fo  forward  i   And  how  can  it  be  fo  toilfome  to  pray 
 to  him  for  what  we  want,  as  it  is  to  fpend  our  time  in 
 a  laborious  diligence,  without  a  ferious  and  hearty  ac- 
 knowledgement of  him  ?  To  be  humble  and  modeft 
 is  far  more  agreeable,  than  to  bear  it  high,  and  lift  up 
 our  felves  above  others.    It  is  nothing  fo  hard  to  obey 
 Govemours,    as  to  be  turbulent,   and  fall  into  rebel- 
 lion againft  them:    Yea,   to  fuffer  wrongs  breeds  us 
 lefs  moleftation  than  to  do  them.    To  be  patient  cre- 
 ates us  not  half  fo  much  trouble,  as  it  doth  to  vex,  anc 
 fret,  and  fume  within  our  felves.    To  rejoyce  in  God 
 is  a  thing  that  more  gratifies,  than  all  the  pleafure 
 of  fenfe.    And  even  to  mourn  for  our  fins  doth  give! 
 more  fatisfaction,  than  to  mourn  and  grieve  for  worldly 
 lofles. 
 
 It  would  be  a  very  eafie  matter,  I  believe  you  dif- 
 cern  to  make  a  longdifcourfe  on  this  argument :  as  a' 
 fo  to  (hew  that  befides  the  eafe  and  the  pleafure  thu 
 there  is  in  doing  thefe  things,  they  leave  alio  a  certaii 
 joy  and  contentment  when  they  are  done.  They  tha 
 hold  the  courfe  into  which  you  are  entring,  do  fee 
 that  every  ffrp  they  take  leaves  a  cerrain  print  behind 
 
The  T arable  of  tk  Pilgrim.  7^ 
 
 It,  which  it  is  an  infinite  delight  to  reflect  upon.  They 
 enjoy  a  repofe  and  fecurity  in  their  conferences,  which 
 is  not  to  be  uttered:  and  remain  in  great  tranquillity 
 all  their  lives.  There  is  no  body  that  cm  rob  them  of 
 their  pleafures  •,  neither  can  any  man  intercept  them, 
 and  hinder  them  from  coming  into  their  fouls ;  nor 
 will  they  themfelves  be  ever  weary  of  them,  ordclire 
 to  make  an  exchange  of  them  for  fome  other  content- 
 ment. There  is  no  difguft  in  thofe  holy  delight;. 
 They  breed  no  d.flike  by  their  frequent  enpymenr. 
 They  depend  not  as  others  do  on  infinite  circumftan- 
 ces,  whereof  the  want  of  any  one  makes  them  either 
 odious  or  unprofitable,  but  they  have  a  conftant 
 caufe,  and  depend  but  upon  one  thing,  which  is  al- 
 ways prefent,  and  infeparablc  from  all  good  foul*. 
 They  live  without  fear  in  their  pofleflions,  and  with- 
 out difhufl  in  their  wants.  They  do  not  blufh  in  the 
 company  of  others ;  nor  do  they  tremble  when  they 
 are  alone.  They  are  not  bitten  with  remorfe,  nor 
 covered  with  fhame  for  what  is  paft;  and  their  pre- 
 fent  condition  is  not  troubled  with  any  difquiet  ;  and 
 they  have  nothing  but  fair  and  goodly  hopes  for  the 
 time  to  come.  In  fine,  they  are  the  portion  of  God  in 
 the  World,  they  are  his  treafure,  they  are  his  delight 
 and  his  joy  :  and  whenfoever  he  makes  them  know  fo 
 much,  there  is  not  an  higher  plcafure  that  the  heart  of 
 man  is  capable  to  poflefs.  To  make  joy  in  Heaven,  to 
 give  delight  to  the  King  of  the  World,  O  what  a  ra- 
 vifhment  is  it  <  What  glorious  hopes  doth  the  thought 
 of  itinfpire  us  withal  <  It  would  make  any  nun  cry 
 cut,  I  will  be  good  ;  I  vow  that  I  will  be  good,  though  ( 
 the  whole  World  mould  oppofe  me  in  it.  Your  very 
 flelh  will  confent  to  be  one  of  the  Subjects  of  Jcfirs,  if 
 you  do  but  let  it  know  the  happinefs  that  he  wilt 
 
 bring 
 
2j6  ,  Tlief  arable  of  the  Pityiml    __ 
 
 bring  unto  ir.  It.  will  become  a  Votary  to  him,  when 
 you  underftand  how  much  the  better  it  (hall  fare  for 
 that  repofebf  your  mind,  and  the  conltant  pleafure  of 
 a  regular  life.  Your  very  ftomach  cannot  but  com- 
 mend his  meafures,and  fubmit  it  felf  to  his  Laws,  who 
 lays  no  burden  upon  it,  but  rather  eafesit  of  all  its 
 loads.  It  will  complain  of  your  unkindaefs  if  you  de- 
 ny it  the  favour  of  being  abfolutely  governed  by  his 
 will.  There  is  never  a  drop  of  blood  in  your  body, 
 but  had  rather  be  fpilt  in  his  fervice,  than  that  you 
 ihould  refufe  hisblefled  life,  which  leads  to  fuchendlefs 
 felicity  to  the  whole  man.  Confult  every  thing  about 
 you:  Take  advice  of  every  thing  that  belongs  to  you . * 
 and  it  will  confefs  that  there  is  no  fuch  Matter  of  plea- 
 fure  in  the  whole  world  as  the  Holy  Jefm ;  that  it  is  the 
 greateft  Epicurifm  to  be  one  of  his  Followers ;  and  that 
 if  a  man  mould  ftudy  till  the  Worlds  end,  he  would  ne- 
 ver caft  himfelf  into  fuch  an  ecftafie  of  joy,  as  the  know- 
 ledge and  belief  of  what  he  hath  promifed ,  and  an 
 heart  full  of  love  to  him  proportionable  to  that  belief, 
 will  put  him  into.  And  therefore  it  is  a  wonder  that 
 the  Voluptuaries  of  the  World  go  to  any  other  School 
 than  his,  to  learn  the  Art  of  making  much  of  them- 
 felves.  Here  is  true  pleafure  ;  here  is  the  very  (pring 
 of  all  contentment.  It  is  the  very  infcription  upon  the 
 door  or  entrance  of  Chrifts  School,  that  Bbjfed  are  the 
 poor  in  fpirit^blejjedare  the  pure  in  heart,  bleffedare  the 
 meek,  bleffed  are  the  peaceable,  bleffedare  the  merciful^ 
 _  yea  bleffed  are  they  that  mourn,  and  that  fufer  for  righ- 
 teoufnefs  fake.  Nor  are  thefe  vain  brags,  and  empty 
 boafts ,  like  the  Papers  which  Empiricks  fet.  upon 
 ports  pretending  to  the  cure  of  all  difeafes.  But  if  any 
 man  will  try,  he  ihall  find  all  this  to  be  the  very  truth ; 
 
 he  (hall  preach  this  doftrine  himfelf  to  the  World,  he 
 
 .  m[ 
 
 m 
 
TbeTarableoftbeTilgrim.  2  57 
 
 ■Hull  avow  it  confidently  to  all  that  he  meets,  that  Je- 
 fus  only  brings  true  reft  to  their  fouls  and  bodies.  Nor 
 is  the  cryal  of  fuch  difficulty  that  you  or  any  man  elfe 
 fhould  refufe  it.  When  you  have  left  my  company, 
 and  are  retired  to  your  felf,  do  but  fix  your  mind,  as 
 long  as  you  are  wont  to  do  on  lefier  bufinefles,  upon 
 thefe  truths  $  that  Jejus  is  exalted  at  the  right  hand  of 
 Cod,  that  he  hath  received  a  Kingdom  and  Glory  from 
 the  Father,  that  he  hath  power  to  raife  up  you  to  fie 
 with  him  in  his  Throne,  that  he  will  infallibly  take 
 you  up  to  himfelf,  that  you  may  be  there  where  he  is, 
 and  behold  the  Glory  which  God  hath  given  him  •  and 
 then  tell  me  if  ever  you  felt  any  thing  touch  your  heart 
 with  fuch  a  pleafure  as  the  bare  contemplation  of  thofe 
 divine  enjoyments.  The  very  fancy  of  ihem  is  delight- 
 ful. Such  a  dream,  if  a  man  was  in  it,  he  would  noc 
 lofc  for  all  that  he  fees  here.  He  would  be  troubled 
 to  be  awaked,  and  fliut  his  eyes  again,  wiihing  that 
 it  may  know  no  end.  And  therefore  the  afTurance  of 
 thefe  things  to  be  a  certain  truth,  which  the  Holy 
 Ghoft  coming  down  from  Jefus  hath  given  to  us,  muft 
 needs  give  us  a  far  greater  fatisfaclion.  A  fatisfaction 
 as  much  beyond  that  of  fancy,  as  a  fenfible  enjoyment 
 is  beyond  a  dream.  And  what  the  contentment  will 
 be  if  we  fuffer  thefe  truths  to  go  down  to  our  hearts, 
 to  ravim  our  wills,  to  breath  imo  us  the  Love  of  Je- 
 fus, and  to  bring  all  thofe  Blejfed  Vertttts  into  our 
 efteem  and  affection,  1  have  not  power  enough  to  ex- 
 prefs.  But  as  you  love  your  foul,  do  not  deny  it  your 
 beft  endeavour,  that  before  this  day  be  at  an  end,  you 
 may  have  a  real  feeling  of  it. 
 
 And  now  it  may  be  fit  for  your  fuller  conviction  in 
 
 this  particular,   to  bid  you  rum  your  eyes  to  the  con- 
 
 L  1  ditioa 
 
,25$  .  Tl?e  Parable  of  the  Tilgm. 
 
 dition  of  other  men  who  are  ingaged  in  a  quite  coh- 
 trary  courfe  :  and  you  will  foon  lee  that  to  be  a  plea- 
 fant  path  wherein  I  conduct  you,  by  the  mifery  and 
 confufion  which  you  will  difccrn  in  their  lives.  It  will 
 not  be  long  before  you  be  fatisfied,  that  they  are  not 
 in  a  ftate  of  nature.  They  will-prefendy  diicover  to 
 you,  that  they  are  not  as  they  mould  be:  Nay,  that 
 they  would  be  Something  elfe,  than  what  they  are  ; 
 and  that  long  ufe  and  cuftom  hath  rendred  contradi- 
 ctions familiar  to  them.  T  here  is  not  one  of  them  buc 
 he  loves  that  which  he  hates,  and  purfues  that  which 
 heflyes,  andpraifes  that  which  he  cannot  buc  alfodif- 
 commend.  There  are  ftrange  feditions  and  clamings 
 in  their  de-fires,  and  they  are  tofled  about  with  I  know 
 not  how  many  contrary  winds.  They  all  defire  to 
 be  rich,  and  yet  this  very  defire  will  not  let  them  be 
 Co.  They  fear  nothing  more  than  need,  and  yet  they 
 are  ever  in  great  want,  and  cannot  be  filled.  For  they 
 always  think  that  which  they  have  to  be  lefs  than 
 that  which  they  have  not  •  and  they  take  that  which 
 is  prefent  to  be  fo  little,  that  it  is  not  worth  the  no- 
 tice in  compare  of  what  they  expect  in  time  to  come. 
 And  is  there  any  greater  confiftency  in  their  defires 
 ofpleafuref  Alas,  they  purfue  mirth,  but  they  ever 
 pull  upon  their  heads  a  great  deal  of  forrow;  They 
 would  have  nothing  at  all  but  fweetnefs :  and  the 
 more  greedy  they  are  of  it,  the  greater  is  their  bitter- 
 nefs.  When  they  think  to  heighten  their  delights, 
 they  quite  deftroy  them,  and  take  them  away.  When 
 they  would  leave  no  place  empty,  they  are  fo  full,  that 
 they  cannot  feel  them.  Do  not  you  fee  all  this  veri- 
 fied in  drunken  fools  i  Where  is  their  pleafure  after 
 their  Understanding  is  once  blafted  with  the  fumes  of 
 Wine  i  A  Spunge  is  as  good  a  Judge  as  they  of  plea- 
 
 fures, 
 
The  Parable  of  the  P'tlgr'm.  259 
 
 fures,  which,  without  any  difference  fucks  in  the  beft 
 and  the  word  of  liquors.  And  as  for  Death,  Which 
 of  them  is  there  thac  doth  not  fear  it,  and  yet  they 
 take  no  care  at  all  to  live  *  They  dread  difeafes,  and 
 yet  they  will  not  abftain  from  noxious  and  umvhole- 
 fomcthings.  When  any  trouble  fills  upon  them,  then 
 they  wi(h  they  were  out  of  the  world,  and  blefs  thofe 
 that  are  dzxd  5  and  yet  when  death  comes,  though 
 they  are  never  fo  ill,  they  wi(h  it  would  ftay  a  little 
 longer.  They  hate  many  times  to  live,  and  yet  they 
 are  afraid  to  dye.  They  think  them  happy  who  are 
 in  the  other  world,  but  yet  they  are  loth,  to  come 
 among  them.  They  cry  out  of  the  evils  which  they 
 fuffer,  and  yet  they  would  fain  fpin  out  the  mod  mi- 
 ferablelife  to  the  grcateft  length.  But  there  is  ano- 
 ther thing  that  is  ftranger  than  this.  For  you  have 
 often  heard  them  complain  (I  believe  J  of  the  great 
 fcarcity  of  time,  and  yet  which  of  them  is  there  that  is 
 not  fo  prodigal  of  it,  as  if  he  had  half  an  Age  to  fpare  c 
 They  fay  that  it  runs  away  very  fwiftly  from  us,  and 
 yet  they  fpur  on  their  hours>  and  would  have  them 
 flye  away  fafter  than  they  do,  as  if  they  had  too  ma- 
 ny of  them.  Thereare  but  a  few  feafons,  they  fay,' 
 in  time,  and  yet  they  let  thofe  opportunities  grow  old 
 in  their  hands,  and  fuffer  them  to  be  bald  before  they 
 mind  to  apprehend  them;  And  did  you  ever  mirk 
 how  they  deal  one  with  another  i  Each  man  fiTpecls 
 his  fellow,  becaufe  he  deferves  to  be  fufpected  himfelf.. 
 Every  one  is  afraid  to  be  deceived,  and  labours  all  he 
 can  to  deceive.  He  hath  a  great  mind  to  be  revenged, 
 and  yet  he  would  not  have  Jufticc  it  felf  take  any  ven- 
 geance of  him.  He  hates  Tyranny,  and  yet  he  would, 
 fain  be  the  Tyrant.  He  would  have  all  men  fubjeel  to 
 thofe  Liws,  which  he  hath  no  mind  to  obferve.  He 
 Ll  2  accufes 
 
differt.  20. 
 
 I  66  Th*  far  able  of  the  Tilgritn. 
 
 accufes  many  things  as  bafe,  but  will  not  (lick  to  do 
 them.  And  on  the  contrary,  he  holds  good  fortune  in 
 great  eftimation,  but  cares  not  a  ruth  for  venue,  which 
 yet  he  acknowledges  deferves  only  to  be  fortunate. 
 mx.  ryr.  philofophers  themfelves  have  been  afhamed  to  tee  how 
 they  all  behave  themfelves  in  every  condition  like  un- 
 conftant  fools.  They  abhor  War,  but  cannot  tell 
 how  to  live  in  Peace.  *They  are  miferably  dejected  if 
 they  be  made  (laves  5  but  are  fo  infoknt  in  liberty, 
 that  they  draw  fervitude  upon  them.  They  defire 
 children;and  when  they  have  them,  take  no  careabouc 
 them.  They  would  leave  them  eftates ;  but  no  ver< 
 tue  to  ufe  them  well,  and  to  preferve  them.  They  de- 
 fire  to  have  their  Family  alway  flourim ;  but  breed 
 them  fo,  as  if  they  meant  it  mould  dye  with  the  next 
 Generation.  Nay,  God  himfelf  is  not  better  ufed  by 
 them.  For  they  pray  to  him,  as  if  he  was  able  to 
 do  them  good ;  and  yet  they  affront  him,  as  if  it  was  noc 
 in  his  power  to  do  them  hurt.  At  other  times  they 
 fear  him,  as  if  he  could  feverely  punifli,  and  yet  for- 
 fwear  themfelves,  as  if  he  had  no  Being  but  only  when 
 they  pleafed.  But  that  I  may  not  run  into  infinite  par- 
 ticulars, let  us  once  for  all  take  a  view  of  thofe  who 
 would  attain  to  great  honours,  and  fee  by  what  low, 
 mean,  and  fer  vile  practices  they  labour  to  afcend  unto 
 them;  There  is  nothing  which  their  heart  abhors 
 more  than  fubjection  to  others,  and  yet  they  are  forced 
 to  the  baieft  probations.  They  ftoop  to  the  very 
 feet  of  thofe,  upon  whofe  heads  they  would  tread. 
 They  kifs  thofe  hands,  which  they  wim  a  thoufand 
 times  were  cut  off,  if  they  oppofe  their  defigns.  Their 
 veryidlcnefsisin  action  day  and  night.  The  comple- 
 ments and  ceremonies  they  beftow  upon  others,  are 
 u  bufinefs  of  greater  trouble,  than  the 'ruling  of  Pro- 
 vinces, 
 
Tbefarable  of  the  ^ilgrm.  2£t 
 
 vinces,   and  difpofing  of  Kingdoms.     Ic  may  feem 
 ft  range,    but  there  is  nothing   truer,  That  if  a  man 
 would  climb  to  the  higheft  place  in  the  world,  ic  isne- 
 cellary  he  fnould  become  lame,  and  breath  ftnrt,    and 
 take  fuch  little  fteps,  as  if  a  long  Ague  had  but  juft  left 
 him  to  the  ufe  of  his  Ieggs ;  and  in  one  word,  feem  al- 
 together unfit  for  thebufinefs  he  defigns.     You  know 
 what  a  glory  it  is  to  be  the  fuppofed  Head  of  all  Chri- 
 ftendom.     And  yet  they  that  are  well  acquainted 
 with  the  ways  to  tha*  office,  tells  us  in  plain  terms,  that 
 he  mud  keep  his  Bed,   and  ufe  all  the  Arts  which  Phy- 
 fick  can  afllft  him  withal,  not  to  be  well,  but  to  be  ill  > 
 who  hopes  to  attain  that  dignity.    He  muft  puc  him- 
 felf  into  a  feavourilh  heat ;  he  muft  beg  the  help  of  de- 
 fluxions  and  catarrhs  >  he  muft  procure  a  pale  look, 
 and  a  meagre  afpe<5t ;    he  muft  cough  at  if  he  was  cal- 
 ling for  his  grave;   or  elfe  he  muft  lofe  that  place 
 which  will  not  comeateafier  rates.     And  now  what 
 think  you  *  Are  not  thefefTne  ways  to  glory  t  Have 
 not  they  a  great  mind  to  trouble  themfelves,   that  pur- 
 chafe  trouble  at  fo  great  a  price  i   For  the  rifing  to 
 high  places  ( as  a  wife  man  of  our  own  obferves )  is  ve- 
 ry laborious,  and  by  pains  men  come  to  greater  pains : 
 Nay,  it  is  fometimes  very  bafe,  and  by  indignities  men 
 come  to  dignities.     Perhaps  this  ambitious  fool  doth 
 flatter  continually  thofe  whom  be  hates :   He  applauds 
 and  praifes  thofe  whom  he  defpifes :  He  admires  all 
 that  is  ill  done :   He  approves  of  all  that  a  wicked  and 
 debauched  appetite  defires :  He  fpeaks  again  ft  his  con- 
 fcience  ;   and  fmiles  on  him  whom  he  could  bite  and 
 faften  his  teeth  upon  with  all  his  heart.     He  diftembies 
 ail  his  refentments ;  and  though  he  love  revenge  as 
 well  as  his  life,  yet  he  is  put  to  the  pains  of  ftifiing  all 
 thofe  paifions  which  are  itsfervants.    Thereris^a  fire 
 
 in 
 
%()1  Tl?e  farahle  of  the  Pilgrim'. 
 
 in  bisbsnes/and  he  dare  not  give  it  theleafl;  Vent,  that 
 others  may  feel  it  as  well  as  himfelf.  He  (wallows  all 
 the  affronts  which  a  Porter  gives  him  at  a  Great  mans 
 Gate;  and  he  bribes  thofe  with  gifts  whom  he  withes 
 dead,  that  he  might  enjoy  their  places.  And  when  he 
 is  mounted  to  the  top  of  his  defires,  Ibeleech  you,  on 
 what  Pinacles  doth  he  tread  t  Which  are  fo  fmall, 
 that  there  is  but  a  little  between  him  and  the  danger  of 
 a  fall ;  and  withal  fo  (harp,  that  they  wound  the  feet 
 which  tread  upon  them.  And  did  you  never  perceive 
 the  delight  that  fome  men  take  in  laughing  at  the 
 meannelsof  the  extraction  of  this  Meteor.?  The  greateft 
 honours  are  not  able  to  cleanfe  the  blemi(hes  of  his  fa- 
 mily. And  when  he  hath  done  all  that  he  can,  bold 
 fpirits  will  throw  in  his  face  the  dirt  from  whence  he  is 
 fprung  *  and  wound  him  with  a  remembrance  that  he  is 
 but  a  New  Man. 
 
 But  then  if  one  of  thefe  perfons  chance  to  drop  down 
 to  the  place  where  we  was  before,  and  become  the  ob- 
 ject of  fcorn,  in  what  a  fad  condition  is  he?  When  the 
 Play  is  ended,  and  the  high-heel'd  Buskins  are  pull'd 
 off  which  raifed  him  above  ochers,  and  the  gaudy 
 cloaths  are  torn  from  his  back,  and  he  returns  to  his 
 firft  form  ;  be  becomes  a  defpicable  creature  even  to 
 himfelf.  So  mad  a  thing  it  is  to  judge  of  a  man  by 
 the  height  of  honour,  to  which  he  is  advanced,  for  it 
 is  as  if  you  would  take  the  meafure  of  a  ftatue  by  the  pe- 
 deftal  on  which  it  ftands.  But  befides  all  this,  the 
 confeience  he  hath  of  his  crimes  will  render  him  ftill 
 more  miferable,  becaufe  it  will  ever  put  him  in  min 
 that  he  deferves  his  mifery.  And  as  for  others,  it  will 
 likewife  be  a  dangerous  thing  for  any  man  to  under- 
 take the  protection  or  comfort  of  fuch  a  perfen,   who 
 
Tie  Tafatle  of  the  Pilgrim:  2fa 
 
 is  known  to  have  merited  his  misfortune.  Nay  more 
 than  this  we  have  heard  of  fuch  fools,  that  before  they 
 had  loft  all  their  imaginary  happinefs,  have  deprived 
 themfelves  of  the  remainder,  out  of  vexation  that  ic 
 did  not  continue  as  great  as  before.  So  that  great  glutton 
 Apitius  having  wafted  the  beft  part  of  his  eftate,  and 
 finding  but  two  hundred  thoufand  Crowns  remaining  • 
 imagined  himfelf  a  Beggar,  and  drunk  a  draught  of 
 poifon  ,.  becaufe  he  thought  he  had  not  fufficient  to 
 maintain  his  ancient  riot.  For  which  he  was  foundly 
 j:ered  by  one  of  the  Sages  of  thofe  days ;  who  faid  this 
 was  the  moft  wholefome  draught  that  ever  he  made, 
 which  put  an  end  to  fuch  a  dufolute  life. 
 
 Thus,  you  fee,  thefe  vitious  men  are  fo  hated  while 
 t'ley  are  alive,  and  their  memory  is  fo  perfecuted  when 
 t  ley  are  dead,  that  I  believe  you  would  not  ftand  in 
 one  of  their  places.  And  the  more  injuries  they  have 
 done  to  others,  toraife  themfelves ;  the  more  odious 
 they  grow,  and  the  more  curfes  follow  them  to  their 
 graves.  So  toiUbme  it  is  to  follow  thofe  courfes,  that 
 men  will  not  fuffer  them  to  reft  in  peace  even  in  the 
 Sanctuary  and  common  refuge  of  all  the  miferable,  ^ 
 
 They  thac  did  not  know  how  to  be  revenged  on  their 
 perfons  while  they  were  here,  are  wont  to  fall  up  m 
 the  Phantafm  which  they  have  left  of  themfelves  in 
 their  imagination  ;  and  to  wreak  their  fpleen  upon 
 their  memory,  and  ftab  their  reputation.  They  pleafe 
 themfelves  in  their  greatnefs  for  a  while,  and  then  they 
 piy  very  dearly  for  it.  Nay,  the  time  of  their  plea- 
 fureis  fo  fmall,  that  they  come  to  it  by  a  far  longer  time 
 of  pains-,  and  when  they  enjoy  it,  they  fcarce  know- 
 how  to  diftinguifli  the  moments  of  the  one  from 
 thofe  of  the  other ;   for  pains  are  either  mingled  with 
 
 their 
 
a£4  .   TbeVarahkofthPityritn. 
 
 their  pleafures,  or  prcftntly  tread  upon  the  heels  ot 
 them. 
 
 All  which,  when  I  confider,  it  calls  to  my  mind  the 
 Story  of  the  Fool,  who  patting  through  the  Foreft  of 
 Rxvenna,^  he  came  from  Rome,  filled  a  whole  Wallet 
 and  a  Pillow-bear  top  full  of  Flys,  Gnats  and  Hornets, 
 of  which  that  place  affords  good  (lore,  and  of  no  fmall 
 bignefs,  to  bring  them  home  with  him.  Whither  when 
 he  was  arrived,    he  Tent  to  his  friends  and  kinsfolks 
 roundabout,   defiringtofcethem,  that  he  might  pre- 
 sent them  with  fome  rarities  and  curious  things  which 
 he  had  brought  from  Rome.     Though  they  knew 
 him  to  be  a  Ninny,   yet  they  could  not  imagine  him 
 to  be  fuch  a  Sot  as  afterward  they  found  him ;  but  fan- 
 cied that  he  might  have  light  upon  fomethingin  his 
 Journey,   which  might  be  worth  one  of  theirs  to  go 
 and  fee  it.    But  when  they  were  met  together,  and 
 were  come  into  his  Chamber,  after  many  complements 
 and  great  expectations,    he  had  nothing  to  entertain 
 them  withal,  but  a  huge  number  of  thole  troublefome 
 creatures  which  he  poured  out  of  his  bags  upon  them ; 
 thinking  becaufe  of  their  various  colours  that  they 
 were  precious  things,   and  would  yield  a  fine  fight  un- 
 to his  friends.     They  laught  a  little  at  the  jeft  at  firft  • 
 but  they  foon  felt  there  was  no  caufe,  when  they  found 
 them  about  their  ears,   and  flying  in  their  faces,    and 
 their  eyes  in  fuch  a  manner,   that  it  was  no  fmall  affli- 
 ction and  pain  unto  them.     Ju ft  fuch,   mechinks,    is 
 the  condition  of  thofe  who  live  in  fin.    They  are  pro- 
 mifed  fine  things,   and  fecret  delights  by  the  tempta- 
 tions which  fend  to  them,  and'  invite  them  into  their 
 fociety.     Great  hopes  are  given  them  of  new  pleafures, 
 and  fuch  rare  facw  factions  as  hitherto  they  have  not 
 
 met 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  filgrim*  ^ 
 
 met  withal.  And  they  are  fuch  Fools  as  to  believe 
 their  imagination,  or  an  idle  companion,  vvhointices 
 them  by  fair  Speeches ;  though  they  know  very  well 
 how  often  they  and  others  have  been  deluded  by  fuch 
 flatteries.  The  fin  indeed  feems  pretty  at  the  firft  •  it 
 makes  them  fome  fport  for  a  while,  and  you  think  that 
 they  are  much  pleafed.  But  alas  1  they  come  a  great 
 way  for  that  fhort  mirth,  and  it  is  fo  trivial,  that  it  is 
 not  worth  a  Flie  5  and  at  laft  they  are  ftung  worfe  than 
 by  a  whole  neft  of  angry  Wafps.  Their  Conscience  is 
 always  buzzing  fome  evil  in  their  cars  5  they  are  per- 
 fected by  it  continually,  and  it  follows  them  with  ics 
 fecret  murmurs;  they  are  tormented  as  with  a  fwarm 
 of  Hornets,  which  will  never  ceafe  to  trouble  them  as 
 long  as  they  flay  there,and  will  not  open  the  door  and 
 run  away  from  their  fins. 
 
 And  truly  by  this  time  it  is  like  you  will  wonder 
 that  they  mould  be  content  to  ftay  in  their  company. 
 You  may  very  well  ask,  what  do  thefe  men  mean  thus 
 to  trouble  themfelves,  when  there  is  fuch  a  vifible  way 
 to  their  peace  and  quiet  ?  Why  do  not  they  break 
 loofe  from  their  fins,  and  feek  their  fatisfaction  in  fome 
 other  courfe  ?  Had  they  not  better  become  good,  than 
 be  at  fo  much  pains  to  make  themfelves  miferably  bad  f 
 They  cannot  but  difcern,  fure,  that  happinefs  lies  not 
 in  their  Rode  •,  and  that  to  enjoy  repofe,  they  muft  be- 
 come the  followers  of  Vertue.  And  to  tell  you  my 
 mind  plainly,  I  verily  think  there  jS  a  number  of  them 
 would  gladly  be  her  fervants,  if  1 0  be  made  fo  might 
 be  wholly  the  A&  of  another,  and  not  at  all  their 
 own.  They  would  think  it  a  blefled  change  to  do 
 well,  as  naturally  as  they  do  ill:  if  this  New  Nature 
 would  but  come  into  them  of  it  felf,  and  not  require 
 M  m  their 
 
L  66  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 their  pains  to  quit  the  Old.  They  commend  the 
 ways  of  Venue,  and  think  them  happy  who  live  tem- 
 perately and  chaftly  <  but  how  to  get  into  them,  there 
 is  the  difficulty.  They  would  gladiy  find  themfelves- 
 there  the  very  next  moment,  but  to  travel  thither  is  a; 
 bufinefs  of  too  much  labour.  Their  old  life  is  a  very 
 great  trouble  to  them,  bat  there  is  fome  trouble  alio 
 in  the  beginning  of  a  new.  Though  the  way  that  I 
 fhew  you  be  fo  pleafant,  that  they  who  are  not  in  it 
 cannot  but  have  a  mind  to  be  tranflated  thither  ■  yet 
 the  entrance  of  it  is  not  without  fome  difficulties.  The 
 flings  which  I  told  y>.uare  in  their  Confcience,  cannot 
 be  pulled  out  without  more  pain  than  they  are  willing 
 to  endure.  It  is  a  bufinefs  of  much  anguifh  to  have 
 the  wounds  which  aremade.in  their  natures  fearched 
 and  drefied,  audfuch  applications  made,,  as  will  draw 
 out  all  the  corruption  aud  filth.  They  had  rather 
 palliate  their  fores,  than  have  them  raked  into,  in  or- 
 der to  their  being  healed..  It  is  a  new  thing  to  which 
 we  would  engage  them,  and  they  apprehend  it  fo  la,. 
 borious  alfo,  that  they  think  it  better  to  continue  as- 
 they  are,  than  with  a  great  deal  of  pains  to  take  up- 
 on them  another  burden.  They  that  aie  free  from 
 their  prepoflftffions,  find  excellent  things  to  be  very. 
 if  kfome  when  the  fir  ft  begin  to  fet  about  them.  With 
 what  unwillingnefs  do  children  learn  their  firft  Let- 
 ters, though  afterward  it  prove  delightful  to  be  able 
 to  read  t  And  how  hard  do  mod.  men  find  the  firft 
 ftcp  to  any  Science,  which  when  they  are  a  little  Ma- 
 tters of,  is  infinitely  pleafant  i  And  therefore  every 
 one  muft  expect,  to  find  the  gate  to  be  ftrait  which 
 opens  to  that  way  wherein  you  are  to  travel..  There, 
 all  their  old  cuftoms  are  to  be  put  off.  There  I  know 
 nothowmanydefiresofthefkmareto  bedenyed  and 
 
 left 
 
The  T  arable  tf  the  Tilgrirn.  2  6y 
 
 left  behind.  There  a  man  muft  be  ftript  ftark  naked. 
 He  muft  become  like  a  little  child,  and  recuced  juft 
 to  nothing  in  his  own  eyes,  that  fo  he  may  be  able  to  en  - 
 ter.  And  then  alfo  there  are  many  ftrange  paths  pre- 
 fent  themfelves  with  which  he  hath  had  no  acquain- 
 tance }  which  is  the  caufe  that  many  are  affrighted 
 and  ftart  back  again,  rather  than  they  will  undergo 
 the  trouble  of  prefling  in  at  fo  ftrait  a  paffage.  Though, 
 if  it  be  well  confidered,  this  is  juft  fuch  a  folly  as  if  a 
 man  in  a  long  Journey  perceiving  himfelf  out  of  his 
 way,  mould  chufe  ftill  to  go  on  in  his  errour,  rather 
 than  go  back  again,  becaule  of  the  many  wearifome 
 fteps  which  he  muft  be  forced  to  take  before  he  recover 
 the  right  road.  The  further  he  goes  on,  the  fur- 
 ther is  he  out  of  his  way  5  and  confequently  muft  ne- 
 ver come  to  his  Journeys  end,  unlefs  it  be  with  greater 
 pains  hereafter,  than  thofe  which  he  now  avoids. 
 
 But  not  to  deceive  you,  ( nor  forget  a  fhort  Anfwer 
 to  your  other  doubc )  I  muft  alfo  let  you  know,  thac 
 the  way  it  felf,  for  a  few  of  the  firft  miles,  is  very  nar- 
 row as  well  as  the  gate,  though  afterwards  it  be  as 
 wide  and  broad  as  heart  can  wifti.  That  which  a  man 
 hath  put  off  in  refolution  at  his  entrance  into  the  way, 
 he  may  find  ftill  to  hang  upon  him  when  he  comes  to 
 move,  and  very  loth  to  be  quite  ftiaken  off.  His  de- 
 fires  which  he  had  contracted,  may  begin  to  ftir  and 
 to  enlarge  themfelves,  and  complain  that  they  are  con- 
 fined too  much,  and  reduced  into  too  narrow  a  room. 
 And  fo  it  will  ftill  feem,  till  by  often  denials  they  grow 
 content,  and  make  room  for  nobler  defires  to  fpring 
 up  in  him.  Then  will  he  think  himfelf  prefled  and 
 ftraicned  no  more,  when  he  finds  his  foul  enlarged  ano- 
 ther way,  and  his  appetites  carried  unfatiably  toward 
 Mm  2  diviner 
 
a  6%  The  farable  oftheVilgriml 
 
 diviner  objects.  Then  he  will  not  fay  he  is  pent  up, 
 when  he  feels  that  the  retrenching  of  his  worldiy  de- 
 fires,  hath  fet  his  heart  at  liberty  to  go  whither  it  na- 
 turally would,  without  any  reftraintsupon  it.  He  will 
 find  that  he  is  at  eafe  by  being  ftraitned  5  that  he  hath 
 got  his  freedom  by  being  bound  up ;  and  that  he  en- 
 joys as  much  as  he  defires,  by  denying  and  paring  of 
 his  defires.  It  may  feem  indeed  a  ftrange  way  of  en- 
 larging our  fouls,  by  bringing  their  defires  into  a  nar- 
 row compafs :  but  if  you  confider  it,  there  is  nothing 
 truer  than  that  it  is  much  better,  and  more  to  our  con- 
 tent, not  to  defire  fome  things  at  all  5  than  to  deflrc 
 them,  and  withal  to  have  them  as  much  as  we  defire. 
 As  for  example  ;,  we  fee  men  mad  to  have  their  fill  of 
 bodily  pleafure.  But  how  doth  it  fare  witruhem  at 
 that  feafon  t  Have  not  thefe  defires  brought  a  torment 
 to  them  ?  No  doubt  they  have  much  more  pleafure 
 then  in  abftaining  from  that  of  which  they  were  (o 
 greedy  •,  than  in  continuing  to  enjoy  ir.  Why  ihould. 
 it  not  be  thought  better  then  to  do  that  out  of  Vertue, 
 which  difordered  Fulnefs  forces  them  to  f  Is  is  not 
 much  more  eligible  to  abftain  out  of  choice,  than  not 
 to  forbear  till  we  are  contained  ?  Yes  verily  •  and  men 
 would  receive  a  greater  fatisfa&ion  in  fubduing  fuch 
 mad  defires,  than  it  is  poffible  to  do  in  the  fulfilling  of 
 them.  It  is  with  thefe  carnal  people,  faith  one  of  the 
 old  Directors  in  the  way  tojerufalem^s  if  a  man  mould; 
 be  fo  dry,  that  he  calls  for  one  cup  after  another,  and 
 though  he  drink  never  fo  much,yethe  cannot  quench  his 
 thirft.  Certainly  fuch  a  man  cannot  be  efteemed  hap^ 
 py,becaufe  he  never  wants  liquor,  but  hath  fUIl  at  hand 
 as  much  as  he  de/ires.  No,  he  is  the  happy  manr  who 
 feeling  no  thirft,  is  free  from  this  neceflity  of  drinking 
 fo  much,  and  is  no  way  urged  to  defire  it.    For  the  firft 
 
77*  Tar  able  of  the  (Pilgrim,  2  6q 
 
 ,  h  like  a  man  in  a  burning  Feaver,and  [he  oihcr  like  one 
 that  enjoys  a  perfect  health.  And  there  is  another  of 
 them  alio  who  verifies  this  in  his  own  example.  For 
 he  confefle?,  that  walking  one  day  with  fome  Friends 
 through  the  City  of  J ///.*//,  having  his  head  full  of  an 
 Oration  he  was  to  make  in  the  Empcroars  praife,  and 
 his  heart  thirfting  after  Glory  and  preferment,  which 
 he  thought  it  would  procure  him  j  and  therewith  very 
 much  contentment :  He  chanced  to  caft  his  eye  upon 
 a  Beggar,  who  having  newly  received  an  Alms,  was 
 very  blith,  and  of  a  pleafant  countenance.  At  which 
 fpectade,  he  fetcht  a  deep  figh,  and  faid  to  his  com- 
 pany, What  a  mifchief  is  this  that  I  mould  thus  drag 
 my  own  infelicity  after  me  by  the  fury  of  my  defircs, 
 and  with  fo  much  trouble  feek  in  vain  forthac  facts- 
 faction,  which  this  poor  fellow  is  already  arrived  sc 
 without  fomuch  ado  ?  It  is  better  by  far  to  have  none 
 of  thefe  longings,  than  to  take  fuch  pains,  and  perhaps 
 without  any  fruit,  to  give  them  contentment.  If  we 
 fliould  have  all  that  our  defires  crave,  yet  it  is  a  fhorter 
 way  to  make  us  happy,  To  be  without  them.  F^r 
 whydowedefirethofe  Pleafares  or  Honours  fo  inor- 
 dinately i  Is  it  not  for  the  fatisfa&ion  and  joy  which 
 we  expect  to  meet  with  in  them?  But  that  we  may 
 have  foonerif  we  can  be  rid  of  thofc  defires.  Efpe- 
 cially  fince  by  wanting  them3  the  foul  hath  leave  to  fill 
 itfelf  with  better  pleafures.  Such  pleafures  as  we  can- 
 not defire,  but  we  fhall  have  them ;  and  which  we  can- 
 not have,  but  we  fliall  be  filled  :  and  which  by  filling 
 of  irc  do  only  more  enlarge  our  fouls  that  we  may  re- 
 ceive a  greater  fulnefs. 
 
 But  there  is  fomething  frill  more  confiderable  in 
 thofc  words  of  Jcfus,  which  have  occafioned  this  dif- 
 
 courfe, 
 
270  Ik  Tarable  of  the  PUgriml 
 
 courfe,  for  if  che  propriety  of  that  word  be  examined,, 
 whereby  he  expreffes  the  condition  of  the  fray9  it  tioth 
 not  feem  to  fignifie  fo  much  the  narrownefs  of  it,  as  the 
 roughnefsjflminefs^  and  external  difficulties  wherewith 
 it  is  incumbred.  There  are  many  aftiiclions  and  croffcs 
 which  may  lie  in  this  way  5  and  they  deterr  fo  much 
 
 «  the  more  delicate  fort,  that  they  feem  to  be  the  greateft 
 
 rub  they  meet  withal ,  and  the  ftrongeft  objection 
 which  they  make  againft  what  I  have  faid  of  the  plea- 
 fureof  thefe  paths.  But  let  me  tell  you,  that  if  you 
 imagine  it  to  be  far  more  pleafant  to  live  after  the 
 Flefh,  than  to  take  up  your  Crofs  and  follow  Chrift  in 
 his  fufferings  j  there  is  not  a  groiTer  errour  that  can 
 poilefs  your  mind.  For  be  was  made  per  feci  through 
 '  '  '  [offerings:  And  there  was  ajoyfetbefore  him  which  made 
 him  endure  the  Crofs :  And  his  followers  bid  us  alfo  re- 
 Joyce  in  as  much  as  we  are  partakers  of  the  fufferings  of 
 Chrift,  that  when  his  Glory  fhall be  revealed,  we  may  be 
 glad  alfo  with  exceedingly.  Nay,  for  the  prefent  they 
 fay  we  fhall  feel  our  felves  happy  if  we  be  reproached  for 
 the  name  of  Chrift,  for  the  Spirit  of  Glory  and  of  God 
 rejleth  upon  #*.  It  is  a  moft  Heroick  and  Divine  temper 
 of  mind,  which  exprefiesit  felf  in  meek  and  chearful 
 fuffering.  Then  we  have  opportunity  to  ufe  the  moft 
 glorious  vertues.  Then  thofe  Graces  of  God  mine 
 moft  illuftrioufly,whichelfe  would  be obfcured.  And 
 therefore  one  of  thefe  great  fouls  cries  out  and  fays, 
 
 James  5. 1 1.  Behold  we  count  them  happy  which  endure.  The  braveft 
 men  that  ever  the  World  bred,  were  of  the  mind  that 
 there  were  no  joys  comparable  to  thofe,  which  are 
 proper  to  couragious  and  patient  Vertue.  It  was  impof- 
 fible  to  gratifie  them  more,  you  could  not  lay  an 
 higher  obligation  upon  them,  than  if  you  prefented 
 them  with  an  occafion  to  (hew  their  Conftancy,    their 
 
 faith 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrhn.  %27, 
 
 Faith  and  their  Valour.     You  know  who  he  was  that 
 Tcfufed to  be  c.illedthe  Son  of  a  Kings  daughter  -7chr/fi 'ng 
 rather  to  [ujfer  affliction  rvith  the  people  of  God,  than  t» 
 enjoy  the  pie  a  fur  cs  of  fin  for  a  feafon  •  ejieeming  the  re-  Heb.  11.25,2$ 
 preach  of  Chrifi  greater  riches  than  the  treafures  of 
 Egypt ;   for  he  had  refpctl  to  the  recompence  of  reward. 
 Nay  1  have  learnt  thus  much  from  Heathens  chemfelves 
 Cfor  I  do  not  trunk  them.unfit  for  my  converfe)  that  it  is 
 neccifary  for  good  men  to  enter  into  agonies  and  con- 
 fids.     They  are  in  need  of  fomething  or  other  to 
 combat  withal :     and  therefore  afflictions  and  trou- 
 bles are  the  Antagonijls  of  Vertuous  fouls,   without 
 whom  they  could  not  be  lawfully  crowned:    The  Ge- 
 nerofity  then  of  ChrifHan  Religion,  lam  lure,  is  fuch, 
 that  it  will  make  you  welcome  Crofies,  and  ftretch  out 
 your  arms  to  receive  them  with  more  refolucion  and 
 chearfulnefs  than  ever  Pagans  did.     You  have  been  a 
 School- boy  it  is  like  in  your  time,   and  then  you  could 
 not  but  hear  as  well  as  I,  the  Story  of  lllyjjes.   How  he 
 was  perfecutedat  home  and  abroad ;    hjw  he  encoun- 
 tred  Giants,  barbarous  and  inhofpitable  people  $  how 
 he  was  in  danger  of  Witchcraft  and  inchantmencs : 
 underwent  cold  Winters,  Shipwracks,   and  Beggcry, 
 being  forced  to  wander  about  in  raggs :  And  I  can  re- 
 ceive no  other  account  of  all  this  from  the  Wife  men 
 of  thofe  days,  but  that  he  being  a  good  nun,  God  %f:Jyr2'0 
 was  plcafcd  in  meer  love  and  Friendmip  to  him  thus  to   '  ''  '  2°" 
 cxercife  and  try  his  Vertue,  proposing  him  as  an  ex- 
 ample of  the  contentment  which  both  God  himfelf, 
 and  vertuous  fouls  do  take  in  their  induiing  the  hard- 
 fliips  which  Heaven  lays  upon  them.     And  what  do 
 they  fay,  think  you  of  that  great  man  Hercules ,  the  be- 
 ginning of  whole  Story  you  heard  before?    They  tell 
 us  that  he  was  beloved  of  God,  and  had  the  higheft 
 
 place 
 
%7i  The  f  arable  of  the  Vtlgrim. 
 
 place  in  bis  Favour  $  nay,  they  call  him  his  fon,  and  fay 
 that  God  committed  to  him  the  Government  of  the 
 World.    And  yet  he  was  always  aflaulted  with  fome 
 Monfter  or  other,    and  God  would  not  fuffer  his  own 
 child  (as  one  of  them  fpeaks)  to  be  nurfed  up  in  idle- 
 nefs  and  the  delicacies  of  life.    No,    he  fought  with 
 Lions,  and  Boars,  and  Serpents,  and  Tyrants,   and 
 Thieves ;  and  he  was  appointed  to  travel  into  ftrange 
 ,  Lands,  to  crofs  dangerous  Seas,  and  to  go  through  ter- 
 rible Wildernefles  and  Defarts  h  And  all  to  teftifie  the 
 I  favour  of  Heaven  to  him  that  would  thus  imploy  him. 
 I  No  doubt  his  Father  could  have  freed  him  from  fuch 
 conflicts,  but  he  would  not ;    becaufe  ( as  they  render 
 j  the  reafon)  it  is  not  lawful  for  him  to  will  any  thing  but 
 that  which  ts  be  ft  and  mofi  excellent.  Or  he  might  have 
 i  freed  himfelf,  and  perhaps  fome  men  would  have  ad-  , 
 vifed  him  to  flee  thefe  dangers,    and  rather  to  quit  his ' 
 'place,  than  expofe  his  life  to  fo  many  hazards.     But' 
 they  knew  not  the  pleafure  which  he  found  in  his 
 heart,   when  he  remembred  that  we  was  thought  wor- 
 thy by  God  to  be  (ingled  out  to  be  his  Champion  5  and 
 that  Heaven  had  not  an  ill  opinion  of  him,  nor  judged 
 him  a  weak  and  effeminate  perfon.    It  was  a  ftrange 
 contentment  alfo  to  imagine  that  all  thefe  dangers 
 prefentcd  themfelves  only  that  he  might  overcome 
 them ,  and  he  felt  that  there  was  not  half  fo  much 
 pains  in  fighting,   as  there  was  pleafure  in  the  very 
 hopes  of  having  the  Victory.    Nay,  if  he  had  perimed 
 in  the  encounter,  fo  he  had  carried  Victory  out  of  the 
 World  with  him,   he  would  have  thought  himfelf 
 crowned  with  an  high  fatis faction.    He  would  have 
 thought  that  he  dyed  more  happily  than  Cowards 
 live  ;  and  that  it  was  more  glorious  thus  to  end  his 
 days,  than  to  fpin  them  out  bafely  to  the  longeft  Age. 
 
 BefidesJ 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  7y* 
 
 Befidcs,  herein  there  being  fo  confiderablc  a  proof  of 
 the  fincerity  and  fidelity  of  fuch  perfons  unco  God,  it 
 cannot  but  pleafe  them  very  much  to  reflect  upon  it. 
 It  yields  them  a  great  joy  to  remember  that  they  have 
 his  approbation,  and  that  after  many  fiery  tryals,  he 
 finds  that  they  are  not  indued  with  a  counterfeit  Ver- 
 tue.  Nay,  it  is  fome  joy  to  think  that  their  enemies 
 judge  them  fo  confiderable,  as  to  raife  fuch  mighty 
 forces  againft  them ,  and  fight  fo  many  battels  with 
 them.  They  afiure  them  hereby,  that  they  are  more 
 in  their  account  than  they  could  wifh.  And  that  power 
 which  gave  them  a  (hock,  but  could  not  make  them, 
 doth  demonftrate  the  folidity  of  their  fouls,  and 
 the  great  ftrength  they  have  to  refift  fuch  forcible  im- 
 preflions. 
 
 I  do  not  know  whether  it  be  a  tale  or  no,  but  I  have 
 been  told  that  among  other  ways,  the  Queen  of  sbeba, 
 try  ed  the  wifdom  of  Solomon,  by  offering  certain  Boys 
 and  Girls  to  be  diftinguifht  one  from  the  other  by 
 him,  when  they  were  put  into  the  very  fame  garb,  and 
 had  been  taught  the  fame  gefturcs  and  carriage  of 
 their  bodies :  And  that  he  calling  for  fome  cold  water, 
 commanded  them  all  to  warn  themfelves.  Into  which, 
 the  youths  plunging  their  hands  boldly,  and  then 
 rubbing  their  faces  very  hard  ;  and  the  others  tender- 
 ly dipping  their  fingers,  and  only  (leaking  their  faces 
 over  with  it,  he  foon  difcerned  the  difference ;  and 
 feparated  them  according  to  their  fexes.  Hardftiips 
 will  make  a  true  proof  of  the  ftrength  and  mafculine 
 force  of  our  fpirits;  Profperity  fas  a  wife  man  of  latter 
 times  obferves )  doth  beft  difcover  Vice,  and  Adver- 
 fity  makes  the  beft  difcovery  of  Vertue.  And  as  the 
 one  is  not  without  many  fears  and  diftafts ,  fo  the 
 N  a  other 
 
l7  4  Tfo  t  arable  of  the  pilgrim.. 
 
 other  is  not  without  its  hopes  and  comforts :   of  which 
 this  is  not  the  leaft,  that  Cod  thinks  hs  wrthj  to  be  the 
 m  n,  in  whom  he  would,  make  an  Experiment,    what 
 Chrijlian  fouls  are  able  tojuffer.  The  Venue  of  Profpe-.. 
 rity  is  Temperance,   and  the  Vertue  of  Adverfity  is 
 Fortitude ;    which  in  the  account  of.  all  the  world  is 
 the  more  Heroical  of  the  two,  and  yields  thegreatefl 
 Triumphs.     Nay,.  He  fears  not  to  fay,  that  Prosperity 
 istbebleffingof  the  Old  TeftamenL,  and  Advertity  is 
 the  bleflingof  the  New,  which  carries  the  greater  be- 
 nediction,  and  the  clearer  revelation  of  Gods  favour. 
 And  therefore  do  not  take  that  ill,    which  to  fuch  a 
 man  as  you  is  a  mark  of  the  Divine  Love.    Be  not  un^ 
 willing  that  God  fhould  do  you  an  honour,    and  be- 
 ftow  upon  you  ableffing.    Let  him  have  the  pleafure 
 of  feeing  you  behave  yourfelf  gillant  y.     Deny  him 
 not  that  fpectade  which  is  not  to  be  had  in  Heaven, 
 and  for  whichJie  manifested  hirafelf  in  flifli.   Let  it  not 
 repent  him  of  his  choice,    if  he  pick  out  you  for  fome 
 notable  Combate.    The  General  appoints  the  (touted 
 men  for  the  hardeft.fervice..    And  they,  do  not  fay,  He 
 bears  an  ill  will  to  us,  and  owes  us  a  fpite  •   but  he 
 bath  an  high  opinion.of  us,  and  intends  to  do  us  cre- 
 dit.    Do  you. now  iifue  forth  with  an  heart  full  of  the 
 fame  thoughts,  and  take  my  word  you  (hall  never  want 
 the  noble  ft  pleafu  res.    You  will  thank  God  for  placing 
 you  in  the  foremoft  rank  of  Chrifthn  Souldiers.     You 
 will. praife. him  for  efteeming  a  poor  Pilgrim  capable 
 of  fuch  achievements.     You  will  rejoyce  to  fee  your 
 felf  herein  preferred  before  the  Angels:    For  if  they 
 can  do  more  than  you :.  yet  you  can  fuffer  more  than 
 they.     Nay,  you  will  find  your  felf  in  the  fellowfhip 
 of  the  Son  of  God,  who  was  never  fo  glorious  as  when 
 he  hung  upon  the  Crofs  5  never  triumphed,  fo  much  as 
 
 when. 
 
The  T arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  27  k 
 
 when  he  Teemed  to  be  trampled  under  feet  h  and  then 
 fpoiled  principalities  and  powers,  when  he  was  robbed 
 of  all,  and  loft  even  life  it  (elf. 
 
 CHAP.  XXV. 
 
 How  the  Pilgrim  and  hi*  Guide  parted.    And  rvitk  what 
 a  brave  Resolution  he  begun  his  Journey. 
 
 WHen  the  Good  Father  ((ox  fo  we  will  hereafter 
 call  him  )  had  faid  thofe  words  with  fome 
 others  to  the  fame  effeCl  •,  he  told  him,  that  now  he 
 thought  it  would  be  an  injurious  aft  to  hinder  him  any 
 longer  by  his  difcourfes,  from  going  to  prove  the  truth 
 of  what  had  been  Card.  If  I  am  a  Mercury  (continued 
 he  with  a  little  fmile)  asyouhavebeenpleafedto  fan- 
 cy, I  may  have  leave  to  make  ufe  of  my  wings  and  fly 
 away.  There  remains  nothing  now  to  be  done,  but 
 that  which  I  cannot  co  for  you  ;  and  the  greateft  cour- 
 tefie  that  is  left  in  my  power,  is  to  keep  you  no  longer 
 from  doing  it  your  felf.  Whereupon,  after  he  had  ex- 
 horted him  briefly  to  be  ftrong  in  the  Grace  of  Jefus 
 Chrift,  and  to  endure  hardship  as  a  good  Souldier  of 
 his,  He  bade  him  heartily  farewel,  and  put  himfelf  into 
 a  pofture  of  departing.  But  the  pilgrim  being  forely 
 afflicted  within  himfelf  at  this  news,  fuddenly  caught 
 hold  of  his  Garment,  which  gently  moved  towards  him 
 as  he  turned  about ;  and  in  a  concefl  between  joy  and 
 grief,  uttered  thefe  words,  as  well  as  thofe  pailions 
 would  give  him  leave.  Let  me  intreat  you,  t)ear  Sir, 
 to  prolong  your  patience  fo  far,  as  before  you  go  away 
 to  receive  my  thanks  for  the  good  Directions  you  have 
 furnifned  me  withal  •,  and  to  give  your  Bleffmg  like- 
 Nn  2  wife 
 
%7  4  Tie  far  able  of  the  Ttlgrm 
 
 wife  upon  a  poor  heart  that  is  refolvcd  by  the  help  of 
 Heaven  inftantly  to  fee  forth  in  this  way  which  you 
 have  defcribed.    If  I  had  been  born  your  Son,  I  could 
 not  have  thought  my  obligations  greater  to  you,   chary 
 now  I  feel  them.     Nay,  Khali  take  the  liberty  to  fay, 
 That  I  ftand  more  indebted  to  your  Piety,  than  I  do 
 to  Nature.  ■   For  fancy  oft-times  makes  Parencs,  but 
 itis^nly  reafon,   truth  and  goodnefs  which  have  tyed 
 my  heart  to  you.    And  therefore  fince  I  am  the  iilue 
 of  your  mind,    you  way  juftly  expecl  a  greater  reve- 
 rence, love  and  obedience  to  your  commands,  than  if 
 1  were  the  hTue  of  your  body.     I  have  heard|your  dif- 
 courfe  Sir,  with  great  Attention ;  I  have  markt  every 
 particular  paflage  of  it  with  diligence  and  care ;  and 
 fuch  a  guft  hath  every  word  given  me  which  dropc 
 from  your  mouth,   that  it  hath  leemed  to  me  not  many 
 minutes  long.     It  is  not  to  be  exprefied  how  your  Gol- 
 den Sentence  pleafeth  me,  which  you  have  put  into  my 
 mouth.     I  am  refolved  to  go  along  this  Journey , 
 chaunting  it  continually,   with  no  lefs  delight  than  the 
 Birds  are  wont  to  do  their  Melodies.    Nay,   I  cannot 
 forbear  ( and  be  not  weary,  I  befeech  you  Sir,  if  I  hold 
 you  longer  than  I  thought )  but  Imuft  here  before  you 
 renounce  my  own  proper  will,   and  proteft  that  l'de- 
 fire  nothing  but  to  be  what  Jefu*  would  have  me,  and 
 to  be  where  Jefus,  you  fay,  will  bring  me.   O  thou  ene- 
 my of  God  1  my  felf-  will,  that  haft  reigned  fo  long, 
 come  down  from  thy  Throne.  I  proclaim  War  againft 
 thee,   and  am  refolved  from  this  day  forward  to  op- 
 pofe  all  thy  dtfires.     I  fet  my  felf  here  in  open  defiance 
 to  thee  h   I  will  have  no  peace  with  thee  for  one  mo- 
 ment ;   becaufe  thou  art  no  friend  of  God,  to  whom  I 
 now  deliver  my  felf.    Let  him  be  pleafed  to  come  and 
 reign  in  my  heart,  for  lam  abfolutely  his.    May  it  be 
 
 his 
 
The  parable  of  the  Titgrim.  27  7 
 
 his  will  to  accept  of  a  poor  Slave,  -that  devotes  all  his 
 powers  to  his  fervice.  This  I  will  begof  him  perpe- 
 tually, that  he  would  vouchfafe  to  let  me  know  what 
 his  willis,  and  that  {hall be  my  Guide,  though  my 
 own  will  be  never  fo  defirous  to  hold  a  contrary 
 courfe.  Let  it  pain  me,  or  let  it  pleafe  me,  I  am  refol- 
 ved  to  bind  my  felf  faft  to  God ;  that  he  may  carry  me 
 not  whither  1  would,  but  whither  himlelf  thinks  good. 
 Say  the  word,  O  my  God,  and  it  is  enough :  I  am  pre- 
 pared to  be  conducted  by  thee.  Lead  me  whither  thou 
 wilt,  O  thou  bleffed  Providence,  thou  (halt  have  a 
 faithful  follower  of  thy  wife  Counfels,  I  am  no  longer 
 afraid  of  any  dangers.  Thofe  terrible  Mongers,  Po- 
 verty, Reproach,  and  all  the  reft,  do  ftrike  no  dread 
 at  all  into  me.  Farewel  offices  and  honours,  if  you 
 muft  be  the  recompence  of  crimes.  Farewel  my  friends, 
 if  I  muft  be  the  companion  of  your  fins.  Farewel  all 
 the  world,  if  it  muft  be  the  price  of  my  foul.  But  as 
 for  you,  Sir,  I  am  loth  to  bid  you  farewel.  I  muft  be 
 fnatched,  rather  than  go  from  your  company.  For 
 you  are  my  Father,  my  Oracle,  a  MelTenger  fent  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  teftifie  that  I  would 
 thank  you  if  I  were  able,  both  for  your  former  Dire&i- 
 ons,  and  for  this  Patience. 
 
 Truly  C  replyed  the  Father )  I  think  my  felf  rather 
 obliged  to  thank  you  moft  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  1  am  fo  greedy  of,  as  to  meet 
 with  a  foul  that  is  fincerely  defirous  to  know  the  way 
 to  Jervfalcm,  neither  do  I  know  any  pleasure  equal 
 
 to 
 
27  g  Iht  T  arable  of  tk  ftlgrm. 
 
 tothat  of  pouring  out  my  heart  into  fuch  thirfty  minds, 
 unlefs  it  be  this  of  feeing  them  reiifh  thoic  Waters  of 
 Life  which  flow  from  Wifdomslips.  And  that  fame 
 Je fi«>  who  1  fee,  hath  touched  your  heart  already 
 with  his  Love,  and  excited  you  to  take  this  Journey  ; 
 give  you  his  BlelTing,  and  lend  his  Spirit  the  Com- 
 forter to  accompany  you  in  your  travels,  and  aflign 
 you  to  fome  good  Angel  of  his  that  may  conduct 
 you  to  that  happy  place,  the  Heavenly  Jerufalem, 
 w  here  he  lives.  In  the  way  to  which  I  am  fo  defirous 
 you  mould  enter,  that  I  will  not  be  your  hinderance 
 by  any  further  difcourfes-,  but  (hall  be  ve/y  glad,  as 
 1  told  you,  to  find  you  in  fafety  arrived  there  •,  where 
 we  ihall  never  part  more,  nor  have  any  caufe  to  fay  this 
 fad  word  \  Farewel. 
 
 Muft  I  part  then  with  you,  faid  the  Pilgrim .«? - 
 
 Here  he  made  a  paufe,   and  tears  fpoke  the  reft  of 
 his  mind  ;    for  I  could  hear  never  a  word  he  faidft 
 till  after  a  great  many  fighs  he  thus  proceeded :    Well, 
 let  it  be  fo.     It  is  part  of  my  duty,   you  fay,    to 
 be  contented  with  every  thing.     And  therefore  I 
 now  freely  refume  my  former  refolution,   and  fay  in 
 the  words   (I  hope  in   the  Spirit  alfo)  of  Jefus, 
 Not  my  will,    O  Lord,   hut  thy  veill  be  done.     Only 
 let  me  again  renew  my  deiires  that  you  would  accom- 
 pany me  ever  with  your  good  Prayers,    for  I  hope  it  is 
 .  not  too  great  a  gratification  of  my  felf  to  be  pleafed 
 in  your  triendmip,  and  in  the  belief  that  you  remem- 
 ber me  :  Nor  will  it  be  accounted  a  crime  that  I  am 
 not  willing  to  be  left  out  of  your  thoughts,  efpecially 
 when  they  are  addrtfled  in  devcut  fupplications  to 
 Jefus.     I  have  been  long  perfwaded  that  I  ufe  to 
 profper  the  better  in  all  my  defigns  for  the  good 
 ,  .  wilhes 
 
T\k  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  270 
 
 wiflies  of  pious  pcrfons:  and  ic  hath  been  foire  Cup* 
 pert  tome  alfo  when  I  have  had  no  great  Here  of  good 
 defiresin  my  own  heart,  or  been  but  col  J  in  thofe  I 
 had,  to  think  that  the  concerns  of  my  foul  were  pre- 
 fented  to  God  by  fome  Friend  or  other,  in  their  more 
 fervent  Devotions.  And  therefore  it  will  be  at  the 
 moft  but  a  pardonable  error,  if  I  do  with  fome  Paflbn 
 beg  the  prayers  of  fuch  a  perfon  as  you  are,  and  if  I 
 '  comfort  my  felf  fometimes  with  the  intereis  I  have  in 
 you  and  them.  Especially  (incel  fee  by  your  chari- 
 table inflections,  and  the  patience  you  have  ufed  to- 
 wards me,  that  you  have  an  heart  fo  full  of  Love  and 
 Coodnefs,  that  it  will  neither  fuffer  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  thefe 
 words,  for  fear  they  ftiould  never  break  orF,  but  be  al- 
 ways linkt  together  by  the  chains  of  this  pleafing  con- 
 verfation;  and  the  delight  which  he  perceived  began 
 rofpringupin  him  by  the  interchanging  fo  many  ex- 
 preflions  of  their  mutual  Love.  But  after  lie  had  aOu- 
 red  him  by  a  folemn  promife  that  he  would  never  fail 
 to  commend  him  to  the  love  and  care  of  Jef^s,  they 
 took  their  leave  one  of  the  other,  not  without  a  great' 
 many  embraces,  and  hearty  willies  to  fee  each  other 
 again  in  peace  at  Jerufalem. 
 
 You  may  be  fure  the  Pilgrim  could  not  buc  often  re- 
 fled  with  a  fad  heart  upon  this  dear  perfon  whofe 
 counfels  he  carried  along  with  him  in  his  bread.  And. 
 while  the  image  of  him  was  fofrefli  in  his  mind,  it  did 
 not  a  little  wound  him  that  he  could  enjoy  no  more 
 than  that  (hadow  of  his  friend.    Sometimes  he  com- 
 
 plaine  1 
 
2$o  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim". 
 
 plained  of  the  imperfections  of  this  irate,  and  the  mi- 
 ieries  of  the  world,  that  will  not  let  thofe  who  love 
 moft,  be  rnoft  together.  Sometimes  he  blamed  his  own 
 unworthmefs,  which  made  fuch  a  felicity  as  the  con- 
 ftant  company  of  fo  good  a  man  too  great  for  him  to 
 pofiefs.  Sometimes  he  called  him  back,  and  wifhed  in 
 his  heart  that  he  would  return.  And  by  and  by  he 
 was  ready  to  follow  after  him,  and  thought  h;  opuld 
 fly  prefently  into  his  embraces,  foftrong  were  the  de-  * 
 fires  he  felt  of  being  with  him.  But  in  the  midft  of 
 thefe  reftlefs  thoughts,  which  for  a  little  fpace  were 
 toffed  up  and  down  in  his  mind,  It  pleafed  God  to  re- 
 member him  of  the  Vow  he  had  made  of  his  will  to 
 him.  He  put  him  in  mind  that  he  ftood  ftill  all  this 
 while,  though  he  was  in  fo  great  an  agitation,  and  that 
 to  follow  his  Friend,  would  be  to  go  back  from  his  Re- 
 folution,  and  that  he  had  more  than  the  image  of  his 
 body  to  bear  him  company,there  being  left  behind  the 
 very  picture  of  his  foul  described  in  thofe  Directions 
 which  he  had  bellowed  upon  him.  Such  thoughts  as 
 thefe  put  away  that  fit  of  paflion  wherein  he  was  in- 
 gaged,  and  caufed  the  qualm  that  went  over  his  heart 
 to  vanifli.  So  that  now  loofened  from  all  the  world  (as 
 he  thought)  he  blefled  himfelf,  and  without  any  dif- 
 compofure  took  his  ftaff  in  his  hand,  andfaid :  From 
 this  moment  farewel  all  my  former  enjoyments.  Do 
 not  trouble  me,  for  I  now  begin  my  defigned  Pilgr> 
 mage.  / am  nought,  I huve  nought,  J dejire  nought  hut 
 to  he  with  Jefa  at  Jcrujakm. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
The  f  arable  tftheQtfgrlml  281 
 
 CHAP.    XXVI. 
 
 Of  fun  dry  troubles  which  hapned  to  the  Tilgrimin  his 
 Travels.     And  how  he  tvas  delivered  out  of  them. 
 
 A  Fine  Sun-  fhine  morning  it  was  when  he  firft  went 
 out  of  his  doorsjThe  Air  was  perfumed  with  the 
 Tweet  Odors  which  the  Sun  exhaled  from  che  flowers, 
 the  Birds  whittled  and  fuog  their  Hymns  to  him  that 
 made  that  glorious  Light ;   and  there  was  no  hedge 
 that  he  palled  by ,but  it  welcomed  him  with  fome  new 
 Songs  and  Pleafures,  nor  any  Traveller  he  met,   buc 
 wiflied  him,  Good  fpeed.     He  was  fo  much  pleafed  in 
 every  thing  that  he  law  and  heard,  in  all  the  Works  of 
 God,  in  his  Word  which  he  bare  in  his  Mind,   in  the 
 fmoochnefs  of  the  Way,   in  the  remembrance  of  the 
 Father  he  left,  inthealfurance  he  had  of  his  Prayers, 
 and  fuch  like  things,   that  he  never  thought  himfelf  at 
 ho:re,  till  now  chat  he  had  no  home  at  all,    but  was 
 feeking  one.    He  could  do  nothing  but  compofe  Praifes 
 to  God;  nothing  but  laud  the  Name  of  Jefus  that  had 
 brought  him  into  fo  happy  a  condition  5    and  by  his 
 good  will  he  would  have  made  this  the  bufmefs  of  a'.l 
 the  day  to  fing  a  certain  Ditty,  the  beginning  and  the 
 end  of  which  (I  remember)  was  nothing  but  this,  Blefs 
 the  Lord  O  my  Soul.     Whether  it  was  the  novelty  cf 
 thofe  Ob}e<5fcs  that  prefenced  themfelves  •,  or  the  Great- 
 nefs  and  Beauty  of  them,  or  the  good  Society  he  mec 
 vvith.il,  or  an  immediate  touch  from  that  Spirit  which 
 the  Good  man  prayed  might  be  his  Companion,    or  all 
 thefe,or  any  other  thing,  that  made  him  fo  merry,  I  had 
 not  leifure  to  examine  -y   but  he  was  never  known  in  all 
 Oo  hii 
 
2$t  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 his  life  to  have  exprefTed  fo  much  contentment  in  any* 
 conditions  in  this  Pilgrimage  wherein  he  was  engaged 
 to  Jerusalem. 
 
 Yet  he  had  not  pafTed  many  weeks  in  thefe  raptu- 
 rous joys  (for  they  were  little  lefs)  before  he  found  . 
 them  fo  much  abated,  that  he  thought  himfelf  lefs  hap- 
 py than  he  imagin'd.  The  ways  were  grown  a  little 
 more  rugged,  the  Heaven  began  to  be  overcaft,  and 
 the  Countrey  through  which  he  went  was  more  barren, 
 and  yielded  not  thofe  Fruits  which  he  had  before 
 tafted  ;  which  together  with  other  things  caft  him  in- 
 to a  damp,  and  procured  to  his  foul  more  fadnefs  than 
 he  ufed  to  be  acquainted  withal.  At  the  firft  indeed 
 he  was  only  moved  with  fome  wonderment  to  find  fuch 
 an  alteration,  and  thought  that  in  half  a  days  travel, 
 or  fuch  a  fpace,  he  fhould  recover  more  pleafant  paths. 
 But  when  he  found,  contrary  to  his  expectation,  that 
 they  ftill  continued  uneafie,  and  likewife  chanced  to 
 fee  fome  of  his  old  Companions,  who  called  to  him  at 
 fome  diftance,  and  perfwaded  him  to  go  back  again  -y 
 he  was  much  affrighted,  and  began  to  feel  wild  imagi- 
 nations roving  about  his  Soul,  and  ftrange  deilres  o,f 
 quitting  a  courfe  which  was  like  to  prove  fo  ungrate- 
 ful to  that  part  of  him,  which  was  moft  concerned 
 in  the  things  of  this  World.  For  it  was  reprefented  to 
 his  thoughts,  that  the  enfuing  part  of  the  road  was  very 
 dangerous,  befet  with  Thieves,  and  many  Difficulties, 
 tedious,  and  of  a  ftrange  length:  and,  befidesthat  he 
 might  be  in  a  wrong  way,  it  was  very  doubtful  whe- 
 ther there  was  fuch  a  place  or  no  as  he  fanfied,  feeing, 
 no  body  had  been  there.  From  all  which,  and  many 
 other  confederations  they  told  him  it  was  moft  advift; 
 able  if  he  confuked  his  own  peace,   to  return  with 
 
 them 
 
The  f 'arable  of 'tkfilgrm  28j 
 
 tliem  to  his  former  habitation,  and  .is  ancient  neigh^ 
 hours :  who  were  all  very  lorry  ti  hear  that  he  had  quic 
 his  prefent  pofTeflions,  in  they  knew  not  what  hopes  or* 
 getting  better  at  a  place  which  neither  he,  nor  any  of 
 his  friends  had  feen. 
 
 But  though  this  Pu(h  by  chc  wx  :pe$ejfae^  of  it, 
 made  him  reel  and  (tagger  a  little,  yet  he  (oon  reeo£ 
 lecled  himfelf :  and  calling  to  mind  what  he  had  been 
 taught,  and  repeating  that  charm  (as  I  may  call  it; 
 which  he  always  had  about  him3  I  urn  nought,  I  have 
 nought,  &c.  He  found  himfelf  as  firm  in  his  tefolurion, 
 as  if  he  had  not  been  at  all  aflaulte'd.  Shall  I  forfake 
 my  Lord  ( faij  he  to  himfelf)  fo  foon  as  ever  I  have 
 begun  his  fervice  i  Is  it  handfome  for  me  to  recoil, 
 meerly  from  thenoife  and  report  of  dangers  <  What  a 
 Coward  (hall  I  for  ever  hold  my  felf,  if  I  run  away  be- 
 fore my  enemies  be  in  view,  upon  a  rumour  of  their 
 ftrength  and  power  f  I  will  march  up  towards  them, 
 and  at  lead  look  them  in  the  face.  I  will  not  truft  this 
 Fame  which  all  the  World  hath  branded  for  a  Liar : 
 Since  common  obfervation  alfo  tells  us,  that  the  Lion 
 is  not  fo  terrible  as  he  is  painted.  Much  more  he  fpake 
 to  this  effect,  which  moved  him  to  a  kind  of  indigna- 
 tion againft  himfelf,  that  he  (hould  fo  much  as  (hrink 
 back  thus  early,  before  fufficient  trial,  and  upon  fuch 
 fl  ght  information. 
 
 And  yet  it  was  not  at  all  to  his  difadvantage  that  he 
 had  fek  this  (hock,  bu:  it  rather  had  many  happy  ef- 
 fects upon  him :  Like  a  fit  or  two  of  an  Ague,  which  is 
 thought  rather  wholfoine,  than  to  deferve  the  name 
 of  a  Difeafe.  For  as  it  gave  him  more  underftanding 
 in  the  nature  of  his  way  ( of  the  fm  jothnefs  of  which 
 O  0  2  not- 
 
ag4  The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrivn. 
 
 notwithftanding  all  that  had  been  faid,  he  too  much 
 presumed  )  and  made  him  watchful  becaufe  he  faw  he 
 could  not  pafs  without  force  Enemies :    So  it  gave  him 
 fome  degree  of  courage,becaufe  he  perceived  they  might 
 be  overcome,  and  confirmed  his  belief  of  the  Wifdcm 
 of  his  Director  who  foretold  thefe  troubles  •,  and  gave 
 a  proof  withal  of  the  efficacy  of  that  Remedy  which 
 he  had  prefcribed,  and  above  all  revived  that  Joy  and 
 gladnefs  in  his  heart  which  he  thought  began  to  lan- 
 guifli  and  faint  away.     Full  of  joy  he  was  even  to  an 
 excefsj  and  he  fufTered  byitbyakindoftranlportation^ 
 partly  from  thebrightnefsofthe  Truths  he  had  recei- 
 ved, which  yet  were  frefh  in  his  mind,  partly  from  the 
 increafe  of  his  underftanding  by  the  experiment  which 
 he  had  made  •   but  chiefly  I  think  from  the  Victory 
 which  he  had  obtained  over  thofe  Enemies  that  attac- 
 qued  his  foul.     For  in  truth,  there  is  no  greater  Tri- 
 umph than  that  which  the  Soul  feels  when  it  comes  off 
 a  Conquerour ;   and  applauds  it  felf  for  the  Valour  and 
 Courage  which  it  hath  exprefled  in  its  conflicts.   There 
 was  another  thing  indeed  which   added   fomething, 
 though  not  much  to  his  joy,  viz,,    that  his  Enemies  he 
 hoped  had  received  fuch  a  foil,  that  he  had  fent  them 
 away  difcouraged,  if  not  difabled  from  making  any  fur- 
 ther attempts  upon  him. 
 
 But  fo  mutable  is  our  condition  here,  and  fo  many 
 are  our  Enemies,  that  he  had  not  travelled  many  day* 
 after  this  Triumph ,  before  he  was  arretted  with  a 
 new  trouble  to  exercife  his  Wifdom  and  Patience.  His 
 foul  which  juft  now  was  ready  to  leap  out  of  his  body, 
 he  felt  to  fink  folow,  that  it  was  as  if  he  had  no  foul 
 at  all.  His  fpirits  not  only  began  to  flag  and  hang 
 down  their  heads ;    but  were  grown  quite  faint  and 
 
 weary, 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrimi  285 
 
 weary,  as  if  they  meant  to  fwoon  away.  Which  was 
 partly  occafioned  by  his  going  too  faft,  and  taking 
 over-long  Journeys  j  and  partly  by  a  very  hoc  day, 
 when  the  Sun  beat  very  fhongly  upon  his  head  ;  and 
 partly  by  the  very  violence  or  his  joys  which  ftirred 
 his  fpirits  fo  much,that  in  the  agitation  they  flew  away; 
 and  partly  by  letting  flip  two  or  three  of  chafe  instru- 
 ctions which  had  been  lefc  with  him  which  fbouid  have 
 been  a  Cordial  to  him ,  but  were  as  impoflible  he 
 found  to  be  by  any  means  recalled,  as  it  was  to  bring 
 back  his  tired  fpirits  which  were  flown  from  him.  Ve- 
 ry melancholy  and  fad  he  now  began  to  be,  and  the 
 more,  becaufe  he  had  been  fo  joyful.  O  how  defolate 
 (faid  he  within  himfelfj  is  this  place  into  which  I  am 
 fain!  lam  forfaken fure of  God,  orelfe  I  chat  was 
 fo  high  yefterday,  fhould  never  have  funk  into  this 
 pit,  which  is  next  door  to  the  dwelling  of  damned  Spi- 
 rits. Was  ever  any  man  in  fuch  a  deplorable  eftate? 
 Was  there  ever  any  bereaved  thus  of  all  his  comforts 
 which  mould  fweeten  his  way  when  he  had  no  other 
 company?  Oh,  Who  will  reftore  unto  me  the  days 
 that  are  part  <  Who  can  call  back  but  the  joys  of 
 Yefterday  into  my  bofome  ?  What  are  thofe  fins  that 
 have  caft  me  into  the  difpleafure  of  my  Lord?  Or, 
 What  fhall  I  do  to  regain  his  favour,  which  I  would 
 purchafeatany  rate,  though  I  died  the  next  moment  * 
 Thus  he  lay  many  days,  iometimes  bewailing  his  for- 
 mer affright ment,  which  he  fufpecled  might  deferve 
 this  defertion  (as  he  was  apt  to  call  it)  fometimes  com- 
 plaining that  he  could  not  find  the  caufe,  and  fo  could 
 not  be  cured ,  fometimes  reflecting  on  the  times  of  joy 
 which  were  gone;  and  fometimes  taking  a  view  of  his 
 mifery,  which  made  him  but  the  more  deeply  mife- 
 rable.    And,  which  was  worft  of  all,  hekepchisbed 
 
 all 
 
t  g  £  Tl?e  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrinil 
 
 all  this  time,  and  ftirred  not  a  foot  in  his  Journey  5  be- 
 ing indeed  10  ill,  that  he  defpaired  of  life.  ^ 
 
 But  fee  how  the  Providence  of  God  watches  for  an 
 opportune  feafon  to  do  us  a  kindnefs.  When  he  was 
 in  the  greateft  torture  that  he  had  felt  all  the  time  of 
 this  Agony,  there  came  an  unexpe&ed  Letter  to  his 
 hands  from  his  beloved  Father,  which  was  to  this 
 effect 
 
 5  My  Friendiforfo  I  cannot  but  callyoufwce  you  exprefs 
 fuch  Uve  to  me)  Thefe  arc  to  let  you  know,  that  though  I 
 am  absent  from  you  }yet  J  follow  you  with  my  tboughts  and. 
 good  wifhes,  which  attend  you  in  all  your  motions.  I  am 
 (0  far  from  being  forge  tfulof my  promife,that  I  am  much 
 better 5  J  affureyou,  than  my  word.  You  defire  me  to  pray 
 for  you,  andfo  /do.  But  I  cannot  content  my  [elf  with 
 that,  unlefsyouy  as  well  as  God,  know  that  I  have  a  re- 
 membrance ofyou.That  u  the  very  reafon  of  my  fending 
 this  Paper  after  you ;  that  it  may  be  a  token  hew  regard- 
 ful I  am  of  your  concerns,  andfolicitous  about  your  wel- 
 fare. So  felicitous,  that  having  enjoyed  fome  good 
 thoughts  this  morning,  I  could  not  but  impart  them  unto 
 you,becaufe  I  fan  fed  they  would  prove  upon  fome  occafion 
 or  other  very  ufeful  to  you.  They  are  a  Meditation  upon 
 one  of  the  Pfalms  of David,  where  he  bids  his  Soul  not  to 
 be  difcpuietedjbutto  hope  in  God  as  the  health  of  his  coun- 
 tenance and  his  God :  and  they  are  infolded  in  a  di- 
 fiincl  Paper  within  the  bofome  of  this  Letter,  becaufe 
 they  were  too  long  to  be  infertedin  the  body  of  it. 
 
 Farewel. 
 
 Upon  the  very  firft  receipt  of  this  Letter,  before  he 
 had  broke  it  up3  his  pale  cheeks  began  to  be  ftreaked 
 
 with 
 
^..  The  f  arable  of  the  TUgbn.  2g7 
 
 ..    with  a  little  blood,   as  a  pcognofti^fc  of  his  recovery 
 to  health  again.     But  when  he  opened  ic,   and  read 
 the  kind  expreflions  of  che  Love  of  his  Friend,  cue 
 might  fee  how  the  fpirits  crept  up  as  he  went  along, 
 QUI  of  the  Center  whither  they  were  retired  :    jnfo- 
 much  that  the  light  danced  in  his  eyes,  yea  leaped  our, 
 as  if  it  meant  to  kils  thole  lines  which  now  faluted 
 them.     But  then,  as  foon  as  he  arrived  at  the  Medita- 
 tion it  felf,  and  had  carefully  perured  all  the  parts  orm\ 
 his  face  mined  like  an  Angel,   and  one  would  have 
 thought  he  had  not  been  the  man  chat  wasfo  lately  Ce- 
 jeeled.     For  it  was  fo  pat  to  his  prefent  condition,  and 
 fo  exactly  luited  to  the  neceflities  under  wluch  he  1  i- 
 boured,  that  it  feemed  as  if  it  had  been  iacuefced  by 
 God,  and  not  by  his  Friend.  There  he  found  a  difcourfe 
 of  the.  Nature  of  Joy,  of  thecaufesof  its  decay,  of  che 
 Interels  that  our  Animal  Spirits  have  in  it,  of  che  way  : 
 
 to  recover  it,  and  the  means  to  be  content  without  ic ; 
 and  above  ad,  of  the  Resignation  of  our  felves  to  the 
 Will  of  God,co  ferve  him  chearfully  withouc  thofe  fea- 
 sible pleafurcs,  as  well  as  in  their  company.  And  noc 
 to  name  other  things  which  were  more  fully  debated 
 between  them  afterward,  thefe  now  rehearfed  were 
 fo  fully  opened,  that  he  was  partly  amazed,  and  part- 
 ly elevaced  to  che  height  of  his  Joys  again,  whe-i  he 
 thoughtthat  God  had  put  it  into  the  heart  of  the  Fa- 
 ther}  to  fend  at  this  time  a  Letter  of  iuch  comfortable 
 import  untohim.  I  fee,  faid  the  Pilgrim,  chat  not  my 
 Friend  only,  but  Jefus  alio  is  mindful  of  me.  I  fee  both 
 that  He  prays  forme,  and  that  Heaven  likewite  beans 
 thofe  Prayers.  Ic  would  be  an  unfufferable  wrong  to 
 my  Bieffed  Saviour,  mould  I  hereafter  think  my  llni 
 forfaken  of  him.  Nay,  it  will  be  an  ill  requital  of  the 
 favour  he  hath  now  done  me,  fhould  I  not  refume  my 
 
 ancient. 
 
1 g  g  The  T  arable  of  the  filgrm. 
 
 ancient  joy  fulnefs  again.     And  therefore  be  no  longer 
 
 difquieted,  O  my  Soul,  be  not  caft  down  within  me.    It 
 
 is  not  in  vain  to  hope  in  God,but  in  that  very  hope  thou 
 
 mayeft  be  joyful :  and  therefore  in  the  fruition  of  thy 
 
 expectations,  O  how  greatly  oughteft  thou  to  rejoyce. 
 
 Pfalm  y,.  ii.  L,„fjt  Mj-own  for  tke  righteous,    and  joy  for  the  upright 
 
 rfalm9.io.    in  heart.    They  that  know  thy  Name  will  Put  their  truft 
 
 in  thee ;  for  thou  Lord  haft  not  for  [aken  them  that  Jeek 
 
 27-  v**  thee.    And  therefore  I  cannot  but  fay,  wait  on  the 
 
 Lord,   he  of  courage,  and  he  fha/lftrengthenth;  heart : 
 
 1  lg'  Wait ,  /fay,  on  the  Lord,     /willfing  unto  the  Lord,  be- 
 
 1 7* ' 4*  cattfe  he  hath  dealt  bountifully  veith  me.   Tea,  /  will  hope 
 
 continually,  and  willyetpraife  him  more  and  more. 
 
 Many  other  the  like  effufions  of  his  heart,  one  might 
 then  have  heard,  and  they  laded  fo  many  days,  that 
 they  become  inftrumental  to  the  redeeming  much  of 
 that  time  which  had  been  loft  in  fruitlefs  complaints 
 upon  his  bed.  He  did  not  go  fo  faft  as  he  was  wont, 
 but  he  went  much  further  than  before  in  the  fame 
 number  of  hours.  His  Joys  were  notfo  violent,  but 
 they  became  more  fweet,  and  they  grew  more  equal. 
 He  could  not  recover  yet  the  Memory  of  fome  things 
 he  had  received  >  but  this  he  better  underftood,  that 
 he  muft  defire  nought  buc  Jefus.  He  was  not  fo  full  of 
 heat,  but  his  light  was  more  refplendent.  He  did  not 
 expect  now  to  be  always  in  the  fame  temper,  yet  he 
 was  confident  he  mould  never  more  fufped  the  Love 
 of  his  Saviour.  He  perceived  that  he  could  not  ever 
 retain  the  fame  Joys ;  yet  he  learnt  withal,  that  the 
 way  to  have  them  (boner  reftored,  was  not  to  fret  for 
 want  of  them. 
 
 Bt  t  though  in  thi  s  condition  he  made  a  great  prcgrefs 
 
TbeiParable  of  the  Tilgritnl  289 
 
 his  way  towards  the  Holy  City  of  God,  yet  the  light 
 which  was  in  his  mind,  did  not  caft  fuch  a  fplendour 
 about  his  Soul,  but  that  one  day  he  fuffered  fome  ob- 
 fcurity.     The  occafion  of  it  was  a  cloudy  thought, 
 which  came  over  his  undemanding,  fuggefting  to  him, 
 That  he  did  not  ferve  God  purely  enough,  because  hti  eye 
 was  too  much  upon  Jerufalem.  For  it  had  been  common- 
 ly received  for  a  Truth  among  fome  perfons  whom  he 
 had  formerly  converfed  withal,    That  we  muft  obey 
 God  out  of  meer  Love  to  him,  without  any  hope  of 
 rewards  at  all.    This,  you  will  fay,  was  a  ftrange  con- 
 ceit, and  it  had  as  ftrange  a  cure.    For  it  pleafed  God, 
 that  he  opening  a  Book  which  he  carried  along  with 
 him,    the  next  morning  after  thefe  thoughts  troubled 
 him,  the  firft  thing  that  he  caft  his  eye  upon,  was  this 
 pafiage  in  a  certain  Chapter  of  it,  That  Mofes  had  re-  Hefc.  u.  29, 
 fpeft  to  the  recommence  of  reward.    You  cannot  think 
 how  much  it  furprifed  him,  that  he  (hould  light  upon 
 thefe  words  rather  than  any  other,  without  his  choice, 
 or  fo  much  as  a  defign  to  receive  fatisfadion  in  this 
 particular.    And  yet  that  which  I  am  next  to  relate, 
 was  more  wonderful  in  his  eyes,   and  made  him  ftind 
 in  a  greater  aftonifhmenc  at  the  goodnefs  of  God  to- 
 wards him.     For  it  being  fuggefted  to  him  from  the 
 memory  of  fome  fragments  of  certain  Sermons  which 
 he  once  heard,That  A&fes  and  thofe  under  the  Law  who 
 were  but  Bondmen,  might  have  refpett  to  Rewards ',  but 
 that  it  did  not  become  thofe  who  had  the  Spirit  of  Adop- 
 tion, to  be  fo  Mercenary^  and  he  being  a  little  perplexed 
 with  this  trifling  Objection }  It  happened,  that  looking 
 down  upon  the  fame  page  of  his  Book  again,    his  eye 
 fell  directly  upon  the  lecond  Verfe  of  the  next  Chap- 
 ter,which  told  him,That  Jejus  endured  the  Crofsfor  the 
 Joy  that  was  fet  before  him.    The  firft  glance  which  he 
 P  P  had 
 
2p0  The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrm. 
 
 had  of  this  place,  was  like  a  Beam  of  the  Sun  in  his 
 eye,  which  immediately  difpelled  all  his  darknefs,  and 
 made  his  foul  flaih  ouc  in  fuch  expreflions  as  thefe. 
 Who  are  thefe  men  that  are  wifer  than  Jefus  i  What 
 mean  thefe  dreamers  to  fancy  themfelves  above  that, 
 which  was  not  below  our  Saviour  ?  Or  how  came  they 
 to  be  fo  proud  as  to  defpife  the  Promifes  of  God,  and 
 think  they  ftand  in  no  need  at  all  of  them  t  Oh,  my 
 foul  go  on,  and  be  not  ftopt  a  minute  longer  by  this 
 fcruple.  Fix  thine  eyes  upon  Jerufalem,  and  let  thine 
 heart  be  raviftied  with  it ;  for  the  Mediator  of  the  fe- 
 cond  Covenant,  as  well  as  of  the  firft,  hadarefpect 
 unco  it. 
 
 '     After  he  had  hit  fo  luckily  on  thefe  two  paflages 
 which  lay  fo  near  together,   a  great  many  more  of  the 
 fame  kind  prefented  themfelves  inftancly  to  his  mind  : 
 ♦       not  much  unlike  the  Beams  of  the  Sun,  which  having 
 once  torn  a  cloud  in  funder,   break  forth  more  and 
 more,  till  the  whole  body  of  that  great  light  appear  to 
 us.    And  this  likewife  raifed  his  fpirics  unto  fome  fur- 
 ther degree  of  chearfulnefs,  when  he  thought  how  our 
 Lord  ftill  provided  for  his  relief,   and  took  the  pains  to 
 pull  the  fmalleft,  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  fo  many  importune 
 Flys,  were  always  buzzing  this  new  fancy  in  his  ears; 
 That  be  did  not  dire[ily  intend  the  glory  and  honour  of 
 Jefiti  in  all  bit  Aft'tons.     He  conlidered  indeed  with 
 himfelf,    that  he  endeavoured  to  do  well,  and  that  he 
 loved  to  do  fo ;    and  that  he  lookt  upon  it  as  the  ve- 
 ry Life  of  God ;    But  yet  he  thought  he  did  nor  io 
 Actually  refpecl;  him  in  every  particular  motion  as  his 
 
 duty 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  29 1 
 
 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  law 
 one  coming  to  him,  and  whifper  this  fentence  in  his  ear, 
 which  of  a  long  time  he  had  not  read,  They  repented  RcV* x9'9' 
 not,  to  give  him  Glory.  Whereupon  ftarting  fuddenly 
 out  of  his  deep  as  if  fome  good  Genius  had  awakened 
 him,  and  given  him  a  new  mind,  he  prefently  began 
 to  tell  himfelf,  that  when  he  firft  repented^  and  under- 
 took this  New  Life,  he  gave  Glory  to  God ,  and  that  by 
 every  ftep  he  took  in  this  courfe  of  Repentance  ( *.  e. 
 amending  of  himfelf)  he  did  actually  honour  him,  and 
 more  materially  than  any  other  way  glorifie  his  name. 
 For  this  is  a  conftant  acknowledgement  of  him ;  a  mi- 
 nutely confeflion  that  we  are  fools,  and  he  is  wife  •  that 
 our  will  is  naught,  and  he  is  good ;  that  he  is  our 
 Lord,  and  we  his  Subjects  -,  and  that  after  all  our  fearch 
 we  find  our  Happinefs  to  lye  in  him  alone,  and  in  fe- 
 paration  from  him,  the  beft  condition  in  the,  world 
 will  leave  us  miferable.  And  he  had  not  long  pon- 
 dered upon  thefe  things  with  much  fatisfadion,  be- 
 fore thofe  words  of  the  Pfalmift  came  into  his  mind, 
 He  that  offer eth praife,  glorifieth  me^  and  to  him  that  P^l.  50.21. 
 ordereth  his  conversation  aright,  voiU  ifberv  the  Salva- 
 tion of  God.  Which  made  him  fall  into  the  praifes  of 
 God,  and  to  refolve  that  he  would  do  fo  every  day,  and 
 early  defign  all  the  employments  of  it  to  his  fervice  : 
 concluding,  that  whilft  he  held  this  courfe,  and  order- 
 ed his  ways  aright,  he  exalted  God  in  the  world,  by 
 lifting  up  his  Will  into  a  preheminence  and  command 
 over  his  own,and  fubjecting  himfelf  unto  it  both  as  moft 
 fupreme,  and  alfo  wife  and  good.  And  after  a  great 
 many  thoughts  of  this  nature,  at  laft  he  made  a  more 
 reflection  upon  the  perfon  who  had  made  him  this 
 P  p  2  vific 
 
2  *  r  T/?e  tar  able  of  the  F'tlgrinu 
 
 vifitin  the  night.    And  when  he  remembred  that  he- 
 fancied  it  was  his  Friend  who  came  to  his  Bed-fi  Je,  he 
 had  a  new  pleafure  to  think  of  the  benefits  of  Sleep. 
 The  praifes  of  which  he  could  not  upon  this  occafion 
 forbear,  though  at  certain  times  he  wifhed  his  thoughts 
 might  never  be  intermitted  by  it .    What  an  heavenly 
 power  (faid  he)  is  this,for  fo  I  am  ready  to  call  it  ?  how 
 much  am  I  beholden  to  it  for  its  filent  refreflimcnts  f 
 That  which  ufeth  to  part  the  deareft  friends,   hath 
 now  brought  them  together.    That  which  feparateth 
 thofe  who  touch  each  other,  hath  made  thofe  near 
 who  are  far  afunder .    O  Divine  Gift !  O  beloved  Reft 
 which  God  beftows  upon  us !    How  great  are  theie 
 charms  which  lock  our  doors  to  all  the  World,  and 
 now  have  opened  them  to  my  friend?    How  much 
 better  are  thefe  dreams  than  many  of  my   waking 
 thoughts?  How  much  rather  had  I  be  in  the  arms  of 
 the  brother  of  death,   than  in  the  feeble  in  joyments  of 
 many  parts  of  my  life  i  I  am  content  juft  now  to  be 
 reftored  to  his  embraces,  if  my  Friend  will  but  meet 
 me  there  again  in  this  manner.    At  lea  ft  I  hope  I  may 
 conclude  that  when  we  are  Dead  indeed,  he  will  not 
 fail  to  meet  me  5  whofc  image  finds  me  out  when  I  am 
 in  the  Images  of  death. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
7\)e  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ^  J 
 
 CHAP.   XXVII. 
 
 How  the  pilgrim  fell  into  a  great  fadnefs  •  and  how 
 firangely  it  was  cured  by  an  unexpected  meeting  with 
 his  Guide,  who  difcourfes  of  the  nature  of  [enfible 
 joys.  And  at  lajl  upon  his  defire  contract i  a  particu- 
 lar Friendship  with  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 IN  fuch  thoughts,  or  rather  dreams  as  thefe  he  fpenc 
 a  little  portion  of  his  time  with  great  delight.  And 
 row  having  vanquifhed  to  many  enemies  and  impedi- 
 ments in  his  way  of  divers  forts,  he  was  willing  to  be- 
 lieve that  he  mould  be  molefted  no  more,  but  pafs  in 
 perfect  peace  to  the  Fifion  of  Peace.  A  great  many  days 
 he  remained  in  thefe  pleafant  expectations,  and  went  a 
 good  way  onwards  to  his  retting  place,  without  the 
 leaft  wearinefs  of  any  part  about  him.  He  fcldom 
 departed  from  meditation,  but  cither  with  his  mind' 
 illuminated  with  new  light  from  Heaven,  or  his  will 
 inflamed  with  a  new  ardor,  or  his  whole  heart  ftceped 
 in  new  fweetnefs.  And  though  fundry  new  enemies 
 alfo  attempted  him,  yet  fuch  a  profound  peace  feemed 
 to  have  taken  poflefiion  of  his  heart,  that  they  could 
 notmove  the  leaft  difturbance  there.  The  joys  that 
 he  fekmade  him  defpife  all  baits  of  pleafure which  lay 
 io  his  way.  The  conquefts  which  he  had  got,  made 
 him  think  himfelf  above  the  fcorn  and  laughter  of  the 
 World.  And  though  he  was  fomerimes  bitterly  re- 
 proached,yet  he  comforted  -himfelf  with  this,  that  they 
 did  but  prepare  him  matter  for  new  triumphs.  But 
 he  could  never  be  drawn  to  any  other  contefts  where- 
 in the  Generality  of  men-  were  then  very  zealoufly  in- 
 gaged;. 
 
Zp4  The  f  arable  of  tbefUgrhn. 
 
 gaged  :   nor  did  he  affect  any  Victories  among  the 
 diiputersof  the  World.    He  lived  in  love  and  peace - 
 ablenefs  with  all  his  fellow-travellers.    He  thought 
 himfelf  fo  rich  alfo  in  thefe  graces,  that  it  was  no  trou- 
 ble to  him  to  be  poor.    And  he  had  fuch  a  fenfe  from 
 whence  he  received  them,  that  they  were  no  tempta- 
 tion neither  to  be  proud.    But  yet  for  all  this  it  chanced 
 that  fome  exercifes  of  Devotion  to  which  he  had  bound 
 himfelf  being  one  day  omitted,  either  through  indif- 
 pofition,  or  by  reafonof  fome  lawful,  if  not  neceffary 
 occafions  which  diverted  him  5   he  was  caft  into  fuch 
 a  penfivenefs  of  mind,as  proved  at  laft  a  great  affliction 
 to  him.    For  he  indulged  to  himfelf  thofe  thoughts , 
 becaufetheypleafedhimatfirft  5  but  by  too  frequent 
 reflections  they  grew  to  a  melancholy  mood,  and  from 
 thence  proceeded  to  a  dull  andliftlefs  temper  of  fpirit. 
 In  this  condition  you  muft  needs  think  his  joys  were 
 again  abated,   which  added  very  much  to  the  trouble 
 of  his  mind :  and  indeed  they  fell  in  time  to  fo  low  an 
 ebb,   that  he  feared  they  would  never  rife  again,  but 
 leave  him  at  laft  quite  dry,   and  without  one  drop  of 
 comfort.    And  fo  truly  in  the  iffue  of  things  it  proved  1 
 for  as  they  forfook  him,fo  he  was  tempted  again  to  for- 
 fake  his  way  5  which  was  now  become  but  irkfome  to 
 him  without  thofe  refrefhments.     The  pleafure  and 
 relifh  that  he  was  wont  to  feel  in  holy  duties  was 
 quite  gone.     Inftead  of  clearnefs  there  fucceeded 
 darknefs ,  drynefs  of  fpirit  took  the  place  of  affection  > 
 and  in  the  room  of  joy  and  gladnefs  he  was  loaded 
 with  nothing  but  groans  and  heavinefs.    He  often  pro- 
 fefled  that  he  could  feel  nothing  at  all 5  but  remained 
 as  a  man  that  had  loft  the  ufe  of  his  foul .     And  there- 
 fore, though  he  continued  for  a  while  to  pray  and  per- 
 form his  duty  in  other  things  as  well  as  he  could,   ytc 
 
 finding 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ~%9  j 
 
 finding  that  he  was  but  like  a  man  that  drinks  very 
 miicr^  when  the  liquor  hath  no  tafte,  and  gives  him  no 
 p  ealure  in  the  going  down  •  he  was  tempted  to  throw 
 it  all  away,  and  thought  he  had  as  good  not  do  thofe 
 things  at  all,  as  do  them  with  no  delight.  And  accor- 
 dingly he  gave  up  himfelf  wholly  to  be  tortured  by 
 his  own  thoughts,  which  imployed  themfelves  inno- 
 thirg  elfe  but  making  fad  reprelentations  of  the  mifery 
 of  this  ftate :  which  you  muft  needs  think  was  fo  grie- 
 vous that  it  was  not  poflible  to  draw  a  picture  of  it.  For 
 fince  the  foul  is  of  far  greater  force  than  the  body, 
 the  pains  and  anguifh  which  arife  in  it,  muft  needs  be 
 far  more  pungent  and  afflictive  than  thofe  which  touch 
 the  outward  man.  He  fuffered  a  kind  of  Martyrdom 
 every  day :  or  rather  he  was  continually  crucified,  and 
 had  nothing  but  Gall  and  Vinegar  given  him  to  drink. 
 He  thought  he  had  reafon  when  he  complained  of 
 greater  pains  than  the  Martyrs  endured.  For  they  be- 
 ing inwardly  illuminated  and  touched  from  Heaven, 
 found  the  higheft  comforts  in  their  torments ,  the 
 greateft  liberty  in  their  imprifonments ,  and  in  the 
 midft  of  flames  the  divineft  ardors  of  Love  in  their 
 hearts  •  which  like  a  greater  fire  put  the  other  out.  But 
 he  poor  foul,  though  always  denying  his  own  defires, 
 breaking  of  his  will  in  pieces,  lying  upon  a  rack,  and 
 faft  nailed  to  the  Crofs,  where  the  body  of  fin  was 
 bleeding  to  death  ;  yet  found  his  Spirit  in  horrid  tor- 
 ments and  deprived  of  thofe  divine  delights,  which 
 chea-ed  the  bright  fouls  of  the  blelled  Mirtyrs,  and 
 made  them  fli.ne  with  a  greater  luftre  than  did  their 
 fires.  But  fince  I  cannot  exprefs  the  forcnefs  of  this 
 Agony  in  *  hich  he  a  long  time  lay  ;  I  (hall  only  add 
 that  it  was  fe  great,  that  one  day  being  quite  tired  and 
 fpent,   he  fell  ii. to  a  kiud  of  trance,    and  remained  as 
 
 immo- 
 
j  g  £  The  Tar  able  of  the  Tilgrirn. 
 
 immovable  for  fome  fpace,  as  if  he  had  been  dead. 
 And  a  bleiled  occafion  this  was,  though  all  his  ac- 
 quaintance that  were  come  to  comfort  him,  imagined 
 he  would  then  have  expired.  For  he  thought  he  faw 
 a  man  coming  to  him  with  a  very  fmiling  afpedt  (  as 
 though  he  knew  him  J  who  bade  him  get  up,  and  go  as 
 faft  as  he  could  to  a  certain  Oratory  that  was  not  far 
 off,  and  in  his  way,  where  he  fliould  meet  with  fome 
 relief. 
 
 When  he  was  come  to  himfelf,  he  thought  this  Vi- 
 fion  (  or  whatelfe  you  pleafe  to  call  it )  was  inftead  of 
 an  Oracle,  and  had  discovered  to  him  one  of  the  great- 
 eft  caufes  that  he  continued  fo  long  ill  of  thefe  grie- 
 vous diftempers.  And  that  was,  That  while  he  afflicted 
 &  tormented  himfelf  with  the  r^membranceofwhat  was 
 pajjed,  he  neglected  to  implore  the  help ofGodwitbJuch 
 conjlant  prayers  as  was  meet,  for  the  redrefs  of  his  pre* 
 fent  evils,  and  prevention  of  the  like  in  time  to  come. 
 This  began  to  make  a  vehement  commotionin  his  mind, 
 for  he  faw  there  was  nothing  truer,  than  that  we  are 
 Apt  to  pray  leaf, when  we  bavegreatejt  need of it \and 'are 
 wont  to  fpend  that  time  in  looking  upon  our  fores,  which 
 fbould  be  imployedin  looking  up  to  Heaven,  for  its  Balm 
 to  drop  into  them.  And  truly  fo  lively  were  the  colours 
 wherein  this  was  fet  before  his  eyes,  that  he  was  ready 
 co  burft  into  tears,  and  pour  out  his  foul  there,  before 
 he  ftirred  from  the  bed  whereon  he  lay.  But  rcmem- 
 bring  prefently  the  voice  ( to  which  he  thought  him- 
 felf lb  much  beholden  )  had  bid  him  make  whatfpeed 
 he  could  to  a  particular  place,  where  he  might  addrefs 
 his  prayers  to  his  Saviour ;  he  arofe  and  drefled  him- 
 felf without  any  further  delay.  And  though  he  knew 
 that  our  Lord  hears  the  (uits  of  his  humble  Clients 
 
 every 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Vilgrtm.  x^? 
 
 every  where,  yet  he  would  not  be  difobedient  to  the 
 directions  he  had  received  ;  but  made  hafte  to  go  and 
 fee  what  good  might  wait  for  him  in  chat  Oratory  or 
 Chappel  which  had  been  built  in  rhe  Road  by  fome 
 charitable  perfon,  for  the  ufe  of  devout  paflengers  to 
 Jerufakm. 
 
 And  no  fooner  had  he  entred  within  the  doors,  but 
 he  fell  upon  his  knees :  anH  there  fent  out  his  Soul  in 
 fuch  ftrong  and  paflionate  deiires,  as  left  all  words  be- 
 hind 5  which  were  not  able  to  accompany  them.  If  the 
 ihrong  of  his  thoughts  ( which  upon  this  occafion  were 
 aflembledj  had  not  been  fo  great,  you  might  have  re- 
 ceived abetter  account  of  them.  But  truly  fuch  was 
 the  violence  wherewith  they  prefled  forth,  and  fo  great 
 were  their  numbers,  that  he  found  it  very  difficulc 
 either  then  to  range  them  in  any  order,  or  afterward 
 to  recall  them  diftinc'tly  to  his  mind.  Yet  fome  of  them 
 carried  this  fenfe,  as  I  have  been  certainly  informed  by 
 him,  from  whom  he  hides  none  of  the  fecrets  of  his 
 Soul. 
 
 O  thou  AlmightyGoodnefijhe  Father  of  the  Fatherlefs^ 
 the  Patron  of  the  Poor }  the  Protector  of Strangers  j  cafl 
 thy  gracious  eyes  upon  a  mi fer able  Pilgrim ,  who  all  torn. 
 and.  ragged  implores  thy  mercy,  when  I  look  on  my  felf 
 jdare  fcarce  he  fo  bold  a<s  to  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  thee. 
 when  I  thinkjn  what  condition  I  am^  and  what  I  have 
 done,  it  fo  confounds  me,  that  lean  hardly  th'nk  of  any 
 thing  elfe,  It  it  the  great  nefs  of  my  mi  fer y  alone  that  con-  • 
 
 Jlratns  me  to  this  preemption  of  prof  rating  my  felf at 
 thy  feet.  The  weight  of  which  opprefjes  me  fo  much  that 
 it  hath  left  me  little  more  power ,  than  to  expof  n  /  elf 
 before  thee^as  an  objetf  of  thy  wondrous  charily  .0  what  . 
 Cj^q  nwilA 
 
2  ^  g  Tfo  tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 a  Wilderness  am  I  fallen  into,  where  Icanfndno  water  I 
 ff'hat  De farts  are  thefey  in  which  all  comfort  for  fakes  my 
 Soul !  Into  what  fir  ange  regions  am  I  wandred^  where 
 there  is  nothing  but  darknejs,andthe  v  allies  of  the  /ha- 
 dow  of  death  !  O  the  terrors  that  fur  round  me  I  how 
 dreadful  are  they  }  0  the  affliction  and  torment  which 
 1  endure  !  what  tongue  can  exprefs  it  ?  My  Soul  is  parcht 
 and  dried  up.  Myjpirits  are  con  fumed  by  the  heat  of  thy 
 difpleafure.May  I  not  now  begg  one  drop  of  comfort  from 
 thee?  -  -O  my  God,  my  foul  tbirfleth  for  thee,  myflcjb 
 longethfor  thee  in  a  dry  and  barren  land.  I  remember 
 thy  loving  kindnefs  informer  times  :  I  call  to  mind  the 
 days  of  old:  And  I cannot  but  w/Jh  at leaf,  to  fee  thy 
 power  rfr  thy  glory, fo  as  I  have  feen  thee  in  the  Sanctuary. 
 There  is  none  in  heaven  that  I de fire  but  thee, nor  on  earth 
 be  fides  thee.  My  Soulfolloweth  hard  after  thee:  0  wh;  n 
 ■wilt  thou  come  unto  me?.  O  hide  not  thy  face  from  thy  fen- 
 ii 'ant \  for  I  am  in  trouble:  hear  me  fpeedily.  I  am  poor 
 and  needy  ,make  hajle  unto  me  0  God  :  thou  art  my  helper 
 anddeliverer  ;  O  Lord,  make  no  tarrying,  I atn  come  a 
 great  way  from  all  my  friends  andkizdred,  and  there  is 
 none  to  pity  me,  O  my  God,  be  not  thou  far  fnm  me  : 
 draw  mgh  unto  my  foul  and  redeem  it.  I  am  poor  and 
 fcrrowful :  let  thy  Salvation  fet  me  up  on  high.  For  thou 
 who  fear  chef  the  hearts.knowejl  thatlam  travelling  w 
 vchithcr  but  to  thee.  All  the  world  have  lie  fit  that  I  may 
 fnd  my  happinefs  only  in  thee.  And  at  thy  heavenly  mo- 
 tion it  was,  that  I  undertook  this  long  jour ney.  j  am  be- 
 come a  pilgrim  meerly  in  obedience  to  thy  Will.  Yea  thus 
 0  far  I  acknowledge  thou  hafl  mofl gracioufly  conducted  me. 
 
 Hitherto  J  have  been  highly  favoured  and  wonderfully 
 helped  by  thee.     And  wilt  thou  now  at  laft  abancLcn  me, 
 who  have  abandoned  all  things  elfe  for  the  fake  of  thee  ? 
 .  Mafl  thou  called  me  from  mine  own  Country  and  Fathers 
 
 houfe, 
 
Tfx  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  *p  * 
 
 houfejhat  Imayperijb  by famine here^and only for  want 
 cfthee'.O  myLordygive  me  leave  to  fie  ad  for  a  foul  which 
 once  I  thought  was  dear  unto  thee,  Pity,  O pity  an  heart 
 •which  thou  haft  made  too  great  for  all  the  rvorld,  and 
 canm  t  be  fatisfed  with  lefs  than  thee.  Canft  thou  fee  it 
 die  for  lack  of  one  fmtle  from  thee  I  yea}  canft  thou  let  it 
 die  of  love  to  thee  <  for  that  hash  brought  me  thus  far  to 
 feek  tbee.Jnd  wilt  thou  fujfer  it  to  die  at  thy  feet?  Canft 
 thou  endure  ta  behold  it  pertjb  in  thy  arms}tnto  which  it 
 now  throws  it  fe  If  with  all  the force  it  hath? shall  it  mi f- 
 carry full  of  prayers  and  longings  after  thee?  Shall  it  ex- 
 pire in  cries  and  tears  which  it  pours  out  for  thy  mercy  ? 
 O  where  are  thy  BowelsUvhat  are  becomeof  thine  ancient 
 loving-  kindnejjes  ?  Are  they  all  forfeited  by  one  offence 
 agatnfl  thee  <  O  my  God  I  cannot  think  fo  hardly  of  thee, 
 Ibegin  to  live  me-thinks^bfcaufe  thoupermitteft  thefe  ad- 
 dreffes  to  thee.  It  infpires  me  with  forne  fapes  to  find  thefe 
 holy  breathings  in  me*  It  re  Joyces  me  much  that  I  fee  I  thee 
 drawing  my  very  heart  after  thee.O  take  it  ibefeech  thee 
 take  it  quite  away  from  me  unto  thy  [elf.  Shape  it  after 
 thine  own  hearty  and  make  it  fuchas  thou  canft  embrace: 
 Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  Ged,  and  renew  in  me  a, 
 right  fpirit.  Caft  me  not  away  from  thy  pre  fence,  and 
 take  not  thy  holy  Spirit  from  me.  Reftore  unto  me  the  joy 
 ef  thy  falvatton,  and  uphold  mz  with  thy  free  Spirit, 
 
 He  was  proceeding  in  the  words  of  that  Penitential 
 Pfalm,  being  once  got  into  it ;  but  that  a  flood  of  tears 
 ftopt  the  pailage  of  his  words,  and  fighs  and  groans 
 fupplied  their  place.     In  which  having  vented  him-  , 
 
 fclf  a  while,  it  fell  out  that  the  tide  of  his  paftion  be- 
 ing a  little  fain,  and  his  fighs  growing  fomething  filent  ; 
 he  (hould  hear  the  voice  of  another  perfon  that  was 
 drowned  before  in  his  lovvdet  cries ,  which  invited 
 Q^q  2  him 
 
j0  0  T7?e  9 arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 him  firft  to  liften  and  then  to  caft  his  eyes,  as^vct  as 
 they  were,  that  way  from  whence  it  came  to  his  ears. 
 And  fo  turning  his  head  a  little  afide,  who  mould  he 
 efpy  in  this  Oratory  but  the  good  man  from  whom  he 
 had  taken  his  firft  Directions  5  who  being  himfelf  alio 
 a  Traveller  to  Jerttfalem  called  in  at  this  place  to  re- 
 frefh  himfelf,  and  to  take  luch  a  repaft  as  the  bounty  of 
 Heaven  was  wont  here  to  provide.  He  fcarce  knew 
 at  the  firft  whether  he  might  believe  his  eyes  or  no  ; 
 and  when  he  had  fathfied  himfelf  that  it  was  no  dream  - 
 he  was  ftill  in  fome  doubt  whether  he  fhould  rife  from 
 his  knees,  and  go  to  falute  him.  Twopaflions  he  fek 
 ftrugling  in  him  at  the  fame  point  of  time ;  the  one 
 tranfported  him  to  the  Father,  with  whom  he  already 
 fanfied  himfelf,  and  the  other  held  him  where  he  was, 
 that  he  might  make  an  end  of  his  prayers  to  God.  Buc 
 finding  at laft  that  his  fpirits  began  to  fail  him,and  that 
 he  knew  not  well  what  to  add  at  prefent  to  his  former 
 Devotions,  withal  hoping  that  God  had  fent  his  Di- 
 rector at  this  happy  moment ,  to  teach  him  to  pray 
 better :  he  went  without  any  further  deliberation,  and 
 threw  himfelf  into  the  arms  of  the  Father,  as  foon  as  he 
 faw  that  he  was  at  leifure  to  receive  him.  ? 
 
 The  good  old  man  was  as  much  furprized  with  the 
 ftrangenefs  of  this  accident  as  the  Pi/grim  Could  be. 
 But  when  all  other  paflions  had  fpent  themfelves 
 which  ufe  to  be  moved  on  fuch  unexpected  occasions, 
 they  left  joy  in  the  fole  poifeflion  of  his  heart,  which 
 could  not  but  ftay  there  a  great  while,  having  fo  many 
 caufes  to  excite  it.  It  was  no  fmall  pleafure  to  fee  his 
 Son  (as  he  could  not  but  efteem  him)  after  fo  long  ab- 
 fence.'  Friends  never  part  with  fo  much  fadnefs,  buc 
 they  meet  again  with  as  great  a  Joy.    But  then  to  meet 
 
 him 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Tilg'wu  j  en 
 
 him  when  he  thought  not  of  it,  and  to  meet  him  in  fo 
 good*  place,  and  to  find  him  fo  far  advanced  in  his 
 way  to  Jerufakm^  and  alfo  to  hear  him  fo  fervently 
 defire  t©  be  carried  further,  thefe  things  made  his  Joy 
 exceed  and  boil  up  to  a  greater  height.  I  will  not  re- 
 cite what -lie  faid  unto  him,  ani  indeed  it  was  not 
 much,  becaufe  the  young  Pilgrim,  though  wonderful- 
 ly enlivened  by  the  fight  of  the  Father,  yet  could  not 
 fo  difguife  his  foul,  but  that  it  left  fome  deaenefs  in  his 
 countenance.  The  Joys  and  pleafing  Raptures  into 
 which  he  wascaft  at  this  interview  were  not  fo  b-ight, 
 but  that  the**  remained  fome  clouds  upon  his  face 
 which  could  mt  be  difpelled  by  them.  This  made  the 
 Good  man  very  abruptly  to  break  off  his  ipeech  as 
 foon  as  he  had  entred  into  it,  and  it  abated  alfo  a  little 
 of  his  fatisfacYion,  when  he  faw  by  the  palenefs  of  his 
 cheeks,  and  the  dulnefs  of  his  eyes,  that  all  was  net 
 well  with  him. 
 
 Yet  there  was  no  need  to  ask  what  he  ailed,  for  he 
 had  no  foone'r  told  the  Father  what  Joy  he  conceived 
 in  his  prefence,  but  he  was  ready  to  unbofoine  the  grief 
 of  his  heart  to  him ;  thinking  to  c.nd  fome  eafe,  both 
 by  difcharging  his  foul  into  that  breaft,  and  by  recei- 
 ving it  back  again  better  informed  in  all  its  concern- 
 ments. Many  things  he  rc'atedjto  him,  but  above 
 the  reft,  I  remember  he  infifted  upon  his  prefent  dul- 
 nefs, and  the  lofs  of  thofe  Joys  that  were  wont  to  at- 
 tend him,  which  he  had  no  means  He  to  recover,  un- 
 lefs  he  was  now  fent  by  God  to  reftore  them.  And  all 
 the  time  of  his  fpeech  on  this  Argument  he  looked  fo 
 forrowfully,  that  it  would  have  moved  an  heart  mod 
 void  of  companion  to  behold  him.  His  words  like- 
 wife  were  all  uttered  with  mournful  accents,  and  not 
 
 without 
 
j01  Tlx  Parable  of 'tkfilgrim. 
 
 without  the  addition  of  fome  tears,  though  he  indea- 
 voured  as  much  as  he  could  to  reftrain  them,  left  they 
 fhould  hinder  all  his  mind  from  coming  forth.  Which, 
 when  he  had  fighed  out  with  a  great  deal  of  pafiion,  U 
 vvas-not  poffible  fo  to  reprefs  them,  but  that  all  conclu- 
 ded in  a  plentiful  fliowre. 
 
 At  the  end  of  which  he  being  very  filent,  the  Fa- 
 ther thus  addrefled  his  fpeech  to  him.     And  is  this  all 
 you  have  to  fay  againft  your  felf  ?   Then  you  may 
 wipe  your  eyes,  and  look  more  chearfully,  for  you  are 
 not  fo  ill  as  1  fee  you  imagine.    You  are^more  afraid 
 than  hurt ;    and  unlefs  you  will  be  your^wn  tormen- 
 tor, there  is  nothing  appears  that  can  difturb  your  re- 
 pofe„     Did  y.ou  not  write  me  word  that  you  received 
 much  facisfaction  in  this  very  cafe,   by  a  Letter  that  I 
 happily  fent unto  you?   Did  not  my  inductions  be- 
 fore your  fetting  cut,  bid  you  expect  feme  cloudy  wea- 
 ther in  your  Travels '.    I  thought  you  would  have  un- 
 derftoodbythofe  difcourfes,  that  wemuftnot  expect- 
 always  the  fame  joys  and  confolationsin  fuch  a  variety 
 of  tempers  as  we  now  fuffer-    nor  the  fame  vigour 
 and  activity  of  fpirit  while  we  are  fo  faft  chained  to 
 thisflefh,  as  our  prefent  ftate  will  have  us.     Did  I  not 
 bid  ycu  alfo  fay  perpetually,    I  am  nought^    I  have 
 nought^  &c.    and  did  you  not  find  this  a  moil  effectual 
 {pell  to  drive  away  all  thefe  black  and  difmal  thoughts  i 
 \SN\\y  then  did  you  think  your  felf  worthy  at  ail  times 
 to  enjoy  thefe  pleafures  ?    Why  did  you  not  abafe  your 
 /felf  at  trie  feet  of  your  Saviour,  andconfefsto  him  that 
 thefe  are  too  great  favours  to  be  indulged  conftantly 
 to  us,  on  this  fide  of  our  refting  place  <    If  there  be 
 any  way  to  have  them,  it  is  this,  not  to  expect  them ; 
 and  acknowledge  that  we  do  not  defer ve  them.    Nay,. 
 
Tht  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  j  0  , 
 
 iff  tliofefubmiflionsand  devolutions  of  our  felves  be- 
 fore our  Lord  there  is  no  fmall  fatisfaclion  ;  unlefs  ic 
 be  no  pleaiurc  to  be  united  to  his  Will,  which  is  infe- 
 parably  united  to  the  higheft  pleafures.  You  muft 
 give  me  leave  to  wonder  a  little  that  you  mould  be  fo 
 lorgetful.  And  I  muft  tell  you,  it  was  very  mif- be- 
 coming your  condition,  to  take  it  ill  that  you  were  noc 
 treated  ever  fince  1  left  you,  according  to  your  own 
 defircs.  Might  it  not  have  fatisfied  your  mind  to 
 rind  yourfelf  in  the  direct  way  to  abiding  and  never- 
 fading  Joys  <  Could  you  not  have  thought  it  happi- 
 nefs  enough  to  look  for  perfect  peace  and  repofe  at  laft 
 in  Jerufdem  <  Nay,  might  it  not  feeoi  vei  y  reafonable 
 for  a  Tinner  to  fubmit  to  fo  fmall  a  punithment  (  if  you 
 will  have  it  fo  termed)  as  to  travel  (bmetimes  in  a  rainy 
 day  r  What  arrogance  is  this,  that  we  who  have  fo  oft 
 ofcnded,  mould  take  offence  if  we  be  remembred  of  it  i 
 But  that  which  items  more  ftrange  to  me  than  any 
 thing  elie,  ic,  that  after  you  had  refigned  your  felf  to 
 your  Saviours  Will  in  this  particular,  you  mould  fail 
 into  the  fame  tiouble,  if  not  fault  again.  You  have 
 taught  me  this  by  it,  that  I  muft  expeclfto  find  my  Pa* 
 ticntsfometimes  afflicted  with  the  fame  difcafe  which 
 I  had  cured,  and  perfecuted  with  the  fame  fcruples 
 which  they  themfelves  had  fatisfied.  For  elie  you  thac 
 travelled  through  afandyand  barren  Defart  once  be- 
 fore, would  not  have  been  lb  dejected  at  the  fight  of  a 
 new  one  ;  and  when  you  could  find  no  water  in  it,  you 
 would  have  rcfrefhid  your  thoughts  as  you  were  wont 
 to  do  with  the  remembrance  of  Jerufalem. 
 
 But  that  I  may  never  find  you  caft  upDn  your  Bed  by 
 a  relapfe  into  this  fickneis  any  more,  let  me  give  you  a 
 larger  account  of  thefe  Joys,  the  want  of  which  hath 
 
 ,  been. 
 
*b  4  We  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 been  fo  grievous  to  you.  I  remember  once  that  I  met 
 with  a  man  that  thought  he  wanted  not  above  two  or 
 three  fteps  of  the  Gate  of  "jerufdem  ( though  afterward 
 I  much  queftioned  whether  he  knew  any  thing  of  the 
 place  J  yea,  that  imagined  himfelf  now  and  then  to  be 
 caught  up  into  Paradiie.  He  was  Angelical  in  his  dif- 
 couri'e,  and  more  than  Angelical  in  his  own  conceit; 
 for  he  fpoke  of  nothing  but  Ecftalies  and  Raptures,  and 
 fuch  like  things,  that  are  by  fome  men  much  exalted 
 above  the  trifles  (as  they  efteem  them)  of  Obedience. 
 I  endeavoured  to  learn  of  him  what  might  be  the 
 ground  of  fuch  an  high  confidence  of  his  neamefs  to 
 God ;  and  all  that  he  was  able  to  tel!  me  amounted  to  no 
 more  but  this,  that  he  was  fo  full  of  Joy,  that  his  foul 
 was  ready  to  burft  its  Prifon,  and  efcape  to  Heaven. 
 Now,  though  you  are  not  of  this  Enthufiaftical  temper, 
 yet  perhaps  you  think  there  are  no  finer  or  more  de- 
 fir  able  things,  than  thefe  Joys,  for  Heaven  to  beftow 
 upon  you  •,  judging  of  their  worth,  and  the  divinenefs 
 of  them  by  the  delight  wherewith  they  entertain  you. 
 But  I  muft  teach  you  another  Leflbn  5  and  inftrutt  you 
 to  feta  price  upon  them  by  another  meafure,  and  that 
 is,  The  good,  they  make  you  do.  If  thefe  Joys  do  not 
 fpur  you  to  Obedience,  and  make  you  fruitful  in  eve- 
 ry good  work,  they  are  not  of  fuch  value  as  you  ima- 
 gine: andif  in  the  abfence  of  them  you  mind  your  du- 
 ty, and  do  the  Will  of  God,  it  is  as  well,  if  not  better ; 
 becaufe  you  do  the  fame  that  you  did  before,  only  you 
 have  iefs  encouragement  to  do  ir. 
 
 Nay,  more  than  this,  I  muft  let  you  know  that  thefe 
 are  things  which  God  beftows  upon  the  moft  imper- 
 fect fouls,  who  are  not  as  yet  able  to  go,  but  only  to 
 creep  in  the  way  to  Heaven-.    They  are  the  fweet  Milk 
 
 which 
 
77*  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  ■>  0  ~ 
 
 Which  he  fends  us  out  of  his  breads  when  we  are  as  yet 
 but  Babes,  and  in  the  infancy  of  Religion.  He  confults 
 our  weaknefs  in  thefe  gifts:  and  confiders  that  as  a 
 child,  while  it  wants  teeth  and  ftrengthto  feed  it  felf, 
 muft  be  nouriihed  with  Milk ;  fo  the  Soul,  till  it  be  able 
 to  underftand  the  Gofpcl,and  feed  upon  the  folid  Truths 
 thereof,  muft  be  entertained  a  while  with  this  thinner 
 dyet,  which  is  moft  agreeable  to  its  affe&tonate  pare. 
 And  withal  he  provides  hereby  that  the  heart  which 
 hath  left  the  pleafures  of  the  world,  may  not  be  dif- 
 couraged  at  the  firft  entrance  into  his  ways  for  want  of 
 fome  other  pleafures :  which;it  cannot  well  be  without, 
 becaufe  it  hath  been  fo  long  ufed  to  them  5  and  which  it 
 cannot  yet  find  in  Religion  it  felf,  becaufe  that  is  a 
 thing  of  which  it  hath  but  a  very  childifh  underftanding. 
 
 And  can  you  think  now  that  God  is  not  good  to  fuch 
 a  perfon  as  you,  wh©  have  been  fo  long  a  fervant  to 
 him  i  You  fee  he  is  fo  far  from  letting  grown  fouls  be 
 without  comfort,  that  it  is  a  thing  he  doth  not  deny  to 
 the  moft  puling  creatures,  and  thofe  who  are  but  No- 
 vices in  the  Spiritual  Life.  Or,  Do  you  think  that  he 
 loves  thofe  beft  to  whom  he  grants  this  kind  of  Con- 
 folation  ?  I  might  as  well  imagine  that  the  Gardner 
 which  I  patted  by  the  other  day  in  my  Travels,  loved 
 the  young  Plants  beft  which  brought  him  no  profit, 
 becaufe  I  obferved  him  to  water  and  fence,  and  under- 
 prop,thofe  tender  things,  whilft  he  exercifed  no  fuch 
 care  about  the  wdl-grown  Trees  which  ufed  to  load 
 themfelves  and  him  every  year  with  their  fruit.  Alas  i 
 k  is  their  weaknefs  that  requires  this  attendance  upon 
 them ;  and  God  pours  thefe  things  upon  imperfect 
 fouls,  when  others  have  none  of  them,  not  becaufe  he 
 loves  them  more,  but  becaufe  they  have  more  need.  So 
 R  r  yon 
 
.05  The  faraUe  of  the  Vilgrim. 
 
 you  remember  your  Mother  ufed  to  deal  with  your  little , 
 Infant  Sifter,  to  fwaddle  her,  and  dandle  her,  and  kifs 
 her,  and  (ing  to  her,  and  find  out  a  thoufand  little  toys 
 to  pleafe  her ;  when  you  were  left  to  drefs  your  felf,  and. 
 ftudy  better  fatisfa&ion,  which  yielded  you  the  more 
 pleafures,  becaufe  you  contributed  fomething  by  your 
 own  labour  to  the  finding  of  them.  For  the  Love  of 
 God  let  us  not  accufe  him  in  this  fafbion  of  unkindnefs, 
 nor  fancy  that  he  frowns  and  fcouls  upon  us,  becaufe  we 
 have  not  thofe  fmiles  with  which  in  our  feeble  age  he 
 was  wont  to  look  upon  us  and  cherifh  us.  You  are  paft 
 thefe  things,  and  want  nothing  but  this  undcrftanding, 
 to  make  you  a  grown  man  in  Chrift  Jefus. 
 
 Butconfider,  Ibefeechyou,  do  you  not  feel  him  do 
 far  better  things  for  you?  than  all  the  Joys  that  ever 
 you  had  amount  unto/'  He  feeds  you  perhtps,  with 
 harder  meat  than  Milk,  but  it  gives  you  mere  nourish- 
 ment, and  greater  ftrength  5,  with  more  fpirit  and  vi- 
 vacity alfo,  if  heartily  imbraced.  Do  you  not  under- 
 stand more  by  a  thoufand  parts  than  formerly  you 
 did  i  Are  you  not  able  with  greater  conftancy  to  beat 
 off  all  Temptations  of  the  flefn  and  the  world  f  Have 
 you'  not  your  paffions  in  a  better  command  ?  And  are 
 not  your  Faith  and  Hope  more  rational  things,  fo  that 
 youareable  to  render  to  any  body  an  intelligent  ac- 
 count of  them  i  Be  contended  then,  for  what  grear 
 ter  thing  can  God  do  for  you,  than  to  make  you  wife 
 and  holy  as  he  himfelf  is  ?  No  man  would  have .reafon 
 to  thank  Godmore  than  you,  if  you  would  but  undcr- 
 ftand  thfc'among  the  reft  of  the  Truths  which  (blef- 
 fedbe  his  Name)  you  arc  well  acquainted  withal • 
 That  it  is  no  fign  God  doth  not  love  you,  when  you  are 
 not  tranfported  with  fenfible  Joys,     and  that  your 
 
The  f arable  of  the  filgrirn.  3  0^ 
 
 paflions  which  are  other  wife  quiet,  ought  not  to  be 
 difturbed  for  want  of  them.  There  is  no  caufe,  I  afTure 
 you,  that  they  fhould  >  for  it  will  not  be  demanded  at 
 the  laft  day,  What  comforts  you  have  enjoyed ;  but 
 rather  what  difcomforts  you  have  fuffered  without  fail- 
 ing in  your  duty  or  flacking  your  Obedience. 
 
 You  have  heard,  I  believe,  very  often  the  Story  of 
 the  Prodigal  Son,  who  having  wafted  all  his  Patrimo- 
 ny in  riotous  courfcs ;  yet  returning  to  his  Father,  was 
 received  with  fuch  joy,  as  was  to  the  admiration  of 
 thofe  who  knew  not  the  reafon  of  it.  He  caufed  him 
 to  be  cloathed  with  the  beft  fuit  of  Apparel  that  was 
 in  his  Wardrobe  5  he  made  him  a  prefent  of  a  Ring,  to 
 aflure  him  of  his  affe&ion ;  there  was  a  great  Feaft 
 prepared  5  there  was  nothing  but  mufick,  and  finging, 
 and  dancing  to  be  heard ;  and  we  may  very  well  think 
 that  He  alfo  gave  him  many  imbraces  now  that  he  was 
 at  home,  who  had  met  him  with  fo  much  paflion  when 
 he  was  yet  afar  off.  And  yet  at  the  fame  time  he  had 
 another  Son  that  was  both  elder  and  more  dutiful ;  one 
 that  had  never  forfaken  him,  that  had  ferved  him  ma- 
 ny years,  that  had  never  offended  him  in  word  ot 
 deed  5  for  whom  there  was  no  fuch  chear  provided. 
 But,  Would  you  have  joyned  with  this  elder  Brother 
 in  his  complaints  ( if  you  had  been  prefent  at  fuch 
 a  meeting )  becaufe  he  was  not  treated  after  this 
 faftiion  f  Would  you  have  judged  it  very  unreafon- 
 able  that  a  perfon  of  greater  defert  fliould  have  no 
 fuch  Banquet  made  to  entertain  him  !  Or,  would  you 
 have  concluded  that  the  Father  had  more  love  for  this 
 diffolute  youth ,  than  for  fo  ftaid  and  fober  a  man  as 
 he  that  always  obeyed  him  <  It  is  poflible  you  might 
 have  run  into  thismiftake,  till  you  had  heard  the  Fa- 
 it r  2  thee 
 
2  0g  17;e  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 ther  fay,  My  Son,  thou  art  always  with  me,  and  all  that 
 jhave  is  thine ;  and  then  you  would  not  have  had  a 
 tvord  to  reply,  unlefsithad  been  a  great  many  thanks 
 for  the  high  efteem  that  he  had  of  him.    You  may  ea- 
 fily  apply  all  this  to  your  felf  •,  and  confidering  that  you. 
 are  now  grown  up  in  the  Love  of  God,  and  inriched; 
 with  the  knowledge  of  Chrift:  •,  and  pofTefled  of  fo  ma- 
 ny heavenly  vertues ;   not  expect  to  be  calefied  in  the 
 fame  manner  as  the  younger  children  are,    nor  repine 
 for  the  want  of  that  comfort,  of  which  you  are  able  by 
 the  Grace  of  God  to  provide  your  felf  other  ways. 
 Your  eyes  are  enlightned  to  know  what  is  the  hope 
 of  Chriftianity,   and  what  the  riches  of  the  Glory  of 
 that  inheritance  is  to  which  yoa  are  called.     You  fee 
 the  title  alfo  that  you  have  to  thofe  great  treafures. 
 You  know  what  that  mighty  power  is  which  wroughc 
 in  Chrift  when  God  railed  him  from  the  dead,  where- 
 by you  are  affuredofthe  truth  of  all  the  Promifes,  and 
 have  a  good  foundation  of  your  hope.     You  have  re- 
 ceived the  Witnefs  of  the  Spirit  which  was  poured 
 upon  the  Apoftles  and  Prophets,  and  is  the  earned  of 
 the  Inheritance.    You  have  had  the  grace  alfo  to  be 
 obedient  to  God,  which  qualifies  you  for  thofe  divine 
 enjoyments.     And  therefore  what  caufc  is  there  for 
 your  difcontents  who  are  fo  fairly  endowed  I  All  things 
 are  yours  :  there  is  nothing  that  is  good  for  you  ;  but  it 
 is  at  your  command  ( it  I  may  fpeak  after  our  manner ) 
 even  thofe  fenfible  comforts  too,  if  by  reafon  of  any 
 great  diftrefs  you  mould  ftand:  again  in  need  of  them. 
 But  fince  they  are  mod  proper  to  Beginners,   and  the 
 entertainment  of  thofe  who  enter  upon  the  Spiritual. 
 Race  ;    do  not  murmur  that  you  are  without  them,, 
 iince  it  is  an  argument  of    your  proficiency  in  the 
 Knowledge  and  Grace  of  our  Lord,  and  you  have 
 
Tk  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim]  j  0^ 
 
 greater  benefits  granted  you,  which  if  they  be  regarded, 
 will  yield  far  more  folid  contentment. 
 
 And  that  you  may  fee  what  fatisfaclion  lyes  already 
 in  your  own  bread,  I  befeech  you  coniidcr  what  greater 
 pleafurejcan  you  be  capable  of,  than  to  find  your  will 
 iubmitted  to  God,to  overcome  enemies,to  wade  thorow 
 difcouragements  -,  unlefs  it  be  this,  to  know  that  God 
 is  well  pleafed  with  your  And  that  in  a  thing  which 
 he  will  ibon  fatisfie  you  in,  if  you  can  but  (atishe  your 
 felf  in  the  former :  for  the  Lord  loveth  the righteous^  and 
 he  takethpleafure  in  them  that  fear  him,  in  them  thai 
 hove  in  his  mercy.  Nay,  I  cannot  but  perfwade  my 
 felf  that  you  belicve,God  is  more  pleafed  to  fee  us  obey 
 him  in  the  weakeft  manner,  than  meerly  »  fee  us  full 
 of  confolations,  which  the  mod  fenfual  men  in  the 
 world  would  be  very  glad  to  enjoy.  And  as  for  me,  I 
 take  it  alfo  to  be  more  acceptable  to  him,  if  againft  the 
 defires  of  fenfuahty  and  felf  will,  and  yet  without  thefe 
 Joys,  we  do  what  he  commands ;  than  if  we  did  the 
 lame  without  any  oppofition,  and  when  we  have  the 
 Wind  and  Tyde  of  thefe  p'eafures  to  help  us  forward. 
 Tell  me  therefore  why  we  our  felves  mould  not  be  ( ac 
 leaft  )  as  well  pleafed  with  what  we  do  in  a  ftate  of  fad- 
 nefs  and  dulnels  of  foul,  fmce  we  are  fure'<  fuch  works 
 are  not  infected  with  any  felf-interefs,  but  performed 
 out  of  clear  and  pure  obedience  to  God.  It  is  pity  that 
 pious  and  fincere- hear  ted  men  mould  be  tormented  in 
 this  fort  chat  you  now  are  :  And  therefore  as  I  prayed 
 you  before  for  the  Loveof  God/o  I  intreat  you  now  for 
 the  love  of  your  felf,  that  at  leaft  you  would  reft  con- 
 tented (if  you  cannot  be  well  pleaicd  )  with  any  ftate 
 whereinto  you  (hall  fall ;  as  long  as  therein  you  may  do 
 well,  nnd  cannot  be  hindrcd  from  obeying  God  as  far 
 as  he  requires.  And 
 
The  far  able  of  the  fUgrinf. 
 And  befides  this  •   Ought  it  not  to  pleafe  us  that 
 God  will  take  any  courfe  to  cure  us  of  our  difeafes  i 
 That  which  you  think  is  a  ficknefs,may  be  but  a  means 
 to  prevent  fome  worfe  diftemper,  which  he  difcerns, 
 though  you  cannot,  to  be  a  growing.    He  fees  that 
 one  man  will  grow  vain,  and  boaft  himfelf  of  thefe 
 Joys ;  not  having  an  heart  able  to  bear  the  weight  of 
 Divine  Favours;     Another  he  fees  will  proceed  to 
 over- much  confidence  of  his  good  eftateby  reafon  of 
 thefe  contblations,  and  lay  a  greater  weight  upon  them 
 than  they  can  bear.    And  as  for  a  third,  he  fees  per- 
 haps fome  little  pride  peeping  up  in  his  foul,  and  that 
 he  is  ready  from  hence  to  fet  an  higher  efteem  upon 
 himfelf  than  other  folks.    Nay,  there  may  be  great 
 danger  left  many  fouls  mould  totally  putrifie  if  they 
 were  always  fed  with  thefe  fweets,  and  therefore  he 
 thinks  it  belt  to  give  them  fome  myrrhe,  by  the  bitter- 
 nefs  of  which  to  prefer ve  them  from  corruption.    They 
 might  be  fo  greedy  of  thefe  things,   as  to  mind  them 
 more  than  their  duty  5  and  for  that  caufe  it  isbeft  to 
 take  them  away,  that  they  may  be  feniiblogtfiere  are 
 other  matters  of  greater  moment  and  neceflity.    But  if 
 none  of  thefe  dangers  mould  be  fuppofed,  will  we  not 
 give  God  leave  to  exercife  our  Faith  and  Love,  and 
 make  a  tryal  of  the  fincerity  and  ftrength  of  thofe  Gra- 
 ces in  what  way  he  pleafes  ?  He  would  know  per- 
 chance whether  we  will  build  our  confidence  upon 
 himfelf,and  upon  his  Promifes,rather  than  on  fenfe;and 
 whether  we  will  follow  after  him  upon  the  fame  ac- 
 count, though  we  have  no  prefent  fenfible  attractive. 
 And  who  can  take  it  ill  that  he  makes  fuch  a  proof  of 
 us, feeing  we  do  it  every  day  our  felves  to  others^  whofe 
 friendfliip  we  value  not  if  they  court  us  only  when  we 
 are  beftowing  gifts  and  benefits  upon  them  f 
 
 But 
 
Tin  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim  . ,  t 
 
 But  if  you  think  that  this  deprivation  of  Joy  is  a  pu- 
 nifhrrent  for  fome  fau!t  which  you  have  commitred, 
 and  that  it  is  a  token  he  hath  (cut  you  a  bill  of  divorce 
 andfeparatedyou  from  him5  you  are  much  to  blame 
 in  fuffering  your  foul  to  make  luch  a  rafh  conclusion. 
 Perhaps  you  have  deferved  to  be  chid  for  fome  fault, 
 but  will  you  prefently  fancy  that  your  Father  intends 
 to  difinherit  you  ?  Is  it  his  manner  to  forfake  and  run 
 away  from  us  when  we  chance  to  (tumble  j  and  not 
 rather  to  come  and  lift  us  up,  and  bid  us  take  more 
 heed  to  our  felves  f  I  never  thought  he  loved  us  fo  lit- 
 tle: and  methinksit  ill  comports  with  the  notion  of 
 a  Father ,  to  reprefent  him  fo  fevere.  It  is  very  necefla- 
 ry  indeed  that  you  fhould  weigh  your  faults,  and  con- 
 fefs  them  for rowfully,  and  mend  them  fpeedily  >  but 
 I  can  never  think  it  ispleafing  to  him  that  you  mould 
 be  fo  difmayed  at  them  and  afflicted  for  them,as  to  ima- 
 gine he  will  caft  you  oft",  and  never  look  upon  you 
 more.  No,  I  believe  rather  he  efteems  this  a  greater 
 dif-fervice  to  him,  than  the  very  fauit  it  felf ,  becaufe 
 it  keeps  us  from  mending  what  is  amifSjand  makes  us  fo 
 feeble,  that  we  are  apt  to  offend  in  fome  kind  or  other 
 a^ain.  To  fav  nothing  of  the  difhonour  it  is  co  his 
 Goodnefs,  and  the  great  fcandal  it  gives  to  others  •,  who 
 will  be  loth  to  enter  into  the  fervice  of  that  Maftcr, 
 whom  they  think  it  impolTible  to  pleafe.  But  then  if 
 under  the  pretence  of  humbling  your  felf,  you  (hair 
 make  a  fin  that  is  no  bigger  than  a  grain  of  Muflard- 
 feed,  as  great  as  an  Elephant,  I-bcfcech  you  what  fer- 
 vice do  you  therein  to  your  Lord  A  And  yet  this  ftonc 
 many  are  apt  to  (tumble  at,  and  that  ft  oft,  that  in 
 time  they  fancy  a  great  fin  there,  wlu  re  indeed  onec  .-.\ 
 find  none  at  all- 
 Da 
 
gfa  The  Parahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 Do  you  think  your  Saviour  will  conn'you  any  thanks 
 for  aggravating  your  offences  to  this  height,  or  accu- 
 ling  your  felf  when  there  is  no  guilt  +  Is  there  nothing 
 for  him  to  pardon  unlefs  you  make  fome  faults ,  or 
 bring  him  a  great  mountain  to  cover  and  hide  with  his 
 love  .<?  Let  me  tell  you,  my  dear  Brother,  that  this  is  a 
 part  of  your  miftake,  and  a  caufe  that  you  and  Joy  are 
 no  better  acquainted.  You  imagine  that  you  have  done 
 Nothing,  and  complain  of  fuch  dulnefsas  if  you  had 
 flood  ftill  ever  fince  I  faw  you ;  when  as  you  have 
 made  a  very  fair  progrefs  >  and  in  fome  things  you  fee 
 have  overtaken  my  felf.  And  then  on  the  contrary, 
 you  groan  under  thefenfeof  a  heavy  guilt:  when  as 
 you  did  but  neglect  a  Free-will  offering,  and  were  kept 
 from  a  duty  to  which  you  then  had  no  tye,  but  what 
 you  received  from  your  own  hands.  You  are  apt  I  fee 
 to  overwork  your  foul,  and  to  impofe  too  great  bur- 
 dens upon  itsback.  Which  when  you  are  not  fo  well 
 able  to  bear,  as  fometimes  you  find  your  felf,  you  are 
 apt  to  think  it  a  great  fault  if  you  take  fome  eafe :  when 
 as  in  truth  it  is  your  duty,  then  to  omit  thofe  tasks  you 
 have  enjoyn'd  your  felf,  that  you  may  not  neglect  thofe 
 duties  which  are  required  by  our  Saviour.  Come, 
 come,  my  friend,  if  thefe  things  be  all  that  trouble  you, 
 my  life  for  yours,  you  mall  do  well  enough.  .Let  buc 
 my  advice  be  followed,  though  at  firfl  it  ihould  be 
 with  unwillingnefs ;  and  take  my  word  you  (hall  fare 
 the  better  for  it  in  your  after-courfe.  And  firft  I  muft 
 not  have  you  lay  more  loads  upon  your  felf  than  Chrift 
 hath  done  ^  nor  oblige  your  felf  without  the  liberty 
 of  a  difpenfation  to  fo  many  hours  of  Prayers  and  Read- 
 ing everyday.  Let  it  fuffice,  to  do  what  you  can,  all 
 other  things  being  duly  considered  that  require  your 
 attendance. 
 
 Next, 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  , ,  ? 
 
 Next,  I  muft  forbid  yon  to  make  fo  much  hafte  to 
 perfc&ion.    A  foft  pace  goes  far.     Do  not  tire  your 
 fpirits  by  your  fpeed,  but  go  on  fo  fairly  and  leifureJy, 
 that  you  may  hold  out.    And  then  likewife  let  me  not 
 hear  any  more  that  you  exhauft  your  natural  ftrength 
 and  weary  your  very  body  with  much  Farting,    un- 
 feafonable  abftinence,  long  prayers,  or  fuch  like  things, 
 which  had  better  be  let  alone,    than  procure  fo  much 
 mifchief  as  I  have  feen  them  do.    And  remember  I 
 befeech  you  that  Lefibn,  which  I  think  was  taught  you 
 before  this  Journey,  That  you  bind  not  your  felf  al- 
 ways to  one  way  of  Prayer  of  Meditation,  nor  con- 
 fine your  foul  to  one  exercife  only  at  the  hours  of  re- 
 tirement ;    but  chufe  that  which  fhall  like  you  beft, 
 and  wherein  you  can  proceed  with  the  greateft  free- 
 dom and  delight.    Befides,  I  perceive  you  have  forgot 
 another  of  my  Leffons,   which  was  to  make  ufe  of 
 fome  innocent  Recreations  and  harmlefs  paftimes  as 
 you  went  along.    And  therefore  what  I  did  but  then 
 advife,  let  me  now  enjoyn,  that  you  give  your  felf  fome- 
 times  a  little  divertifement  from  more  ferious  imploy- 
 ments.    And  truly  if  you  mould  fay,  as  I  know  fome 
 do,  that  it  is  not  for  want  of  thefe  Joys  that  you  com- 
 plain,  but  becaufe  you  can  neither  under/tend  nor 
 tafte  the  goodnefs  of  Divine  Truths ;  this  laft  advice 
 is  one  of  the  mod  ufeful  that  I  can  give  you  for  the  re- 
 medying of  that  melancholy  clulnefs.    All  that  I  fhall 
 add  is  only  this,  that  you  would  have  patience,  and  you 
 fhall  fee  the  good  temper  wherein  you  were,  return  of  it 
 felf,  as  it  went  away  without  your  confent. 
 
 Indeed  faid  the  Pilgrim  ( who  all  this  time  had  been 
 
 very  filent )  I  am  very  fenfible  that  1  have  loft  a  great 
 
 many  of  your  good  counfels,  orelfcl  fhould  not  have 
 
 S  f  been 
 
-  r  m  7l?e  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim, 
 
 been  fo  bad  as  here  you  find  me.  And  I  cake  it  for  a 
 lingular  favour  thar  Jefus  hath  done  me  in  fending  you 
 again  hither,  to  rub  up  my  memory  and  to  fatten  thofe 
 things  in  my  mind  which  hung  there  tooloofe  before, 
 I  mufti  not  forget  likewife  to  acknowledge  my  new  ob- 
 ligations to  you,  from  whom  I  have  now  received  noc 
 only  fo  large,but  fo  plain  and  familiar  an  anfwer  to  my 
 doubt.  And  truly  you  do  very  prudently  and  charita- 
 bly to  lay  your  commands  upon  me  to  be  more  obfer- 
 vantof  your  words  hereafter  •,  for  if  I  mould  not  pre- 
 serve them,  I  fee  I  am  loft  my  (elf, and  that  in  their  fafe- 
 ty  is  my  fecurity . 
 
 Here  the  good  Father  perceiving  he  had  given  him 
 fome  fatisfa&ion  could  noc  but  interrupt  his  fpeech, 
 and  being  filled  with  pity,  and  love,  and  joy,  and  won- 
 derment all  together,  burft  out  into  chefe  expreflkus  of 
 them. 
 
 Now  blejfed  be  Jefus  who  bath brought  me  toyoufo  op- 
 portunely. 6  magnifie  the  Lord  with  me,and  let  us  exale 
 his  name  together,  we  can  never  admire  thee  enough^  O 
 fweetjefus,  who  art  wont  [ofeafo n ably  to  interpofethy 
 power  tofave  #*,  when  we  have  loft  our  J elves,  whither 
 (hould  we  ft  ray,  didft  not  thou  fo  gr  acioufly  feek  Hi  {  what 
 would  become  of  us  didft  not  thou  Co  lovingly  hold  us  in 
 thy  hand,  and  refolve  that  none  (hall pluck  us  from  thee? 
 we  are  aftonifht  at  the  vaftnefs  of  thy  wifdom.Thy  Good- 
 nefs  is  unfathomable,  elfe  we  jbould  have  funk  long  be- 
 fore this  beyond  the  depth  of  it.  when  we  rvander,  thou 
 followeft  us  andealleft  us  back,  when  we  fall,  thou  run- 
 neftto  us  and  lifteft  us  up.  when  we  are  difcouragedy 
 thou  art  theftrength  of  our  fainting  fpirits,  andfpeakeft 
 comfortably  to  our  hearts.  Tea}by  the  rarcnefs  of  thy  hea- 
 venly 
 
The  fui-ahle  of  the  Pilgrim.  « , 
 
 vcnlj  arts  thou  turncft  our  deepefl  forrowsjnto  thegrea- 
 tefl  occafions  of  exceffive  joys.  And  there  where  wet  bought 
 to  find  nothing  hut  trouble  and  heavinefs,  thou  makfft 
 gladnefs  and light  tofpringupunto  us.obowunfearcha- 
 hie  are  thy  ways,  wlto  meet  eft  us  when  we  are  out  of  the 
 WaylO  how  unfearchable  is  thy  Mercy, which  cureth  us  by 
 that  which  we  love,  even  when  we  are  doing  that  which 
 thou  dofl  not  love  I  We  cannot  but  present  thee  with  the 
 bejl  of  our  acknowledgments,  who  are  fo  happily  together 
 here,  not  by  our  own,  but  thy  Providence,  We  cannot  do 
 lefs  than  bind  our  [elves  together  to  thine  Alt  ar,andoffcr 
 all  we  have  as  a  fa  crifice  of  Praife  unto  thee.  And  have 
 usjlill^  O  Lord,  in  thy  care.  Let  thy  good  Spirit  alway 
 go  along  with  us  as  our  Guide.  And  let  thy  good  Angels 
 never  fail  to  be  our  Guardians.  Uphold  our  goings  in 
 thy  paths,and  fuffer  notour  feet  any  more  to  flide.Hold 
 thou  us  up  and  we  mall  be  fafe :  and  we  will  have  re- 
 fpeft  continually  unto  thy  Statutes.  So  will  we  blefs  thy 
 name  at  all  times ;  thy  praife  fhall  be  continually  in  our 
 mouths. in  the  Courts  of  thine  Houfe  we  will  praife  thee  ; 
 yea,  in  the  midjiofthee,  O  Jerufalem,  will  we  fngeter- 
 ftalpraifef.     Hallelujah, 
 
 I  thank  you  muft  heartily,  faid  the  Pilgrim  (  when 
 the  other  had  ended  this  acknowledgement )  for  thefe 
 good  thoughts  you  have  breathed  into  me.  I  feel  my 
 fclf  as  if  a  new  foul  did  inform  me :  and  my  Spirit  doth 
 not  fo  much  return,  as  another  more  divine  feems  to 
 enter  into  me  and  invigorate  all  my  faculties  with  an 
 higher  degree  of  ftrengtnand  courage.  Sure,  if  yon 
 would  be  always  with  me,  I  mould  never  mifcarry,  no 
 nor  grow  dull  and  lumpifh  any  more.  May  I  not  beg 
 that  favour  of  you  to  take  me  under  your  wings?  Is  it 
 too  great  an  happinefs  for  me  to  ask,  that  you  would 
 Sf  a  become 
 
Tk  Titrable  of  th  Pilgrim. 
 become  fo  much  my  Friend,  as  to  take  a  particular  care 
 of  me,  and  lee  me  travel  in  your  company  i  I  can  never 
 expeci  fo  much  fecurity  and  fo  much  comfort  both  to- 
 gether asunder  your  conduct  5  and  therefore  if  I  (hall 
 not  be  too  great  a  burden>  carry  me  along,   I  befeech 
 you,  with  you,  and  let  me  never  be  left,  as  I.  was,  alone 
 without  your  fociety.     You  were  pleafcd  to  compare 
 me  to  another  Hercules,  becaufe  of  fome  refolution 
 which  you  difcerned  in  me.     But  let  me  tell  you  Sir, 
 that  together  with  the  joy  you  have  made  to  return, 
 I  have  recovered  alfo  the  memory  of  fo  much  of  the 
 fmallLearningof  my  younger  days,  as  to  know  that 
 while  Hercules  was  cutting  off  the  heads  of  Hydra ,there 
 was  one  Jaolus  ready  at  hand  to  apply  fire  to  them,    to 
 hinder  their  fpringing  up  again.     It  feems  this  great 
 perfon  was  not  ftrong  enough  without  one  to  back 
 him.     He  durft  not  travel  through  the  World,    unlefs 
 he  took  a  companion  with  him.    I  never  heard  of  any 
 Worthy  that  had  not  fome  Genius  or  other  to  atfift 
 him,  and  the  fociety  alfo  of  fome  friend  to  fecond  his 
 undertakings.    Do  not  expect  then  from  me  that  I 
 mould  be  more  than  a  Miracle.    Do  not  blame  me  that, 
 I  cannot  be  fo  hardy,  as  to  travel  any  further  alone  to- 
 ward Jerufalem.    Though  I  mould  call  for  all  the  fup- 
 ports  and  aids  that  my  courage  can  give  me,  yet  I  muft 
 be  beholden  to  the  help  of  fome  aflbciate  in  my  la- 
 bours.    And  O  that  it  might  be  my  lot  to  fall  into 
 your  company,  or  cuftody  rather ;  for  I  (hall  acknow- 
 ledge you  for  a  kind  of  Tutelar  Angel,  a  good  familiar 
 fpirit  ;    and  receive  you  as  the  richeit  prefent  that 
 Heaven  could  have  made  me.     I  do  not  beg  you  fee  a 
 friendfhip  of  you  that  fliall  ferve  only  to  pats  away  the 
 time,  and  deceive  the  tedioufnefs  of  being  alone,   but 
 filch  an  on?  as  with  the  f  kafure  will  bring- me  i;i  an 
 
 jpeftij 
 
The  Tarahle  of  the  Vtlgrlm.  i  \y 
 
 fceflimable  gain.  Do  not  deny  me  therefore  either 
 that  pleafare  which  I  hope  will  not  difpleafe  your  felf ; 
 or  that  profit,  which  will  do  you  no  hurt.  Make  me 
 rich,  fince  you  will  not  thereby  become  the  poorer. 
 Impart  an  happinefs  to  me,  which  will  not  abate  any 
 thing  of  your  own  repofe.  And  truly  Sir,  I  do  net 
 know  whether  Heaven  have  not  defigned  you  for 
 that  end,  and  given  you  a  frame  of  nature  fo  fit  for 
 conjunction  with  mine,  that  both  together  will  make 
 one  perfect  man.  You  fee  how  earned  and  violent  I 
 am  5  and  I  am  very  fenfible  of  your  great  tobriety  and 
 difcretion.  Now  I  have  fomewhere  read  that  a  friend- 
 fhip  between  two  perfons  thus  difpofed,  is  like  the  Mar- 
 riage of  Iron  and  Steel,  where  the  one  gives  toughnefs, 
 and  the  other  edge.  Let  us  joyn  then  our  hands  and 
 our  hearts  together,  if  you  do  not  think  me  unworthy 
 cf  fuch  an  honour.  Let  this  be  our  Wedding-day: 
 ar.d  from  henceforth  take  me  for  yourinfeparableCom- 
 panion.. 
 
 To  'this  unexpected  fuit,  the  good  Father  made  a 
 reply  to  this  effeci.  Though  it  be  a  great  thing  which 
 you  require,  yet  I  would  have  you  think  that  Love 
 cfteems  it  a  very  fmall  matter  to  give.  I  have  called 
 you  often,  My  Friend^  already }  and  fince  you  will 
 have  it  more  than  a  term  of  civility  or  common  affe- 
 ction, I  ought  not  to  be  lefs  forward  than  your  felf  to 
 advance  unto  a  more  noble  fignification.  I  have  no 
 cau  e  at  all  to  fufpeel;  you  of  the  vanity  of  CourcuYip 
 and  Complement  •,  and  therefore  I  will  be  (o  prefun  - 
 pcuousas  to  believe  you  have  conceived  for  me  an  af- 
 fection fo  high  as  that  you  exprefs,  provided  you  will 
 alio  acknowledge  the  great  paffi  n  which  1  have  for 
 ycur  fervice.    It  feems  lo  ftrong  an  obligation  upon  me,. 
 
 for- 
 
,  j  g  Tl>e  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 for  a  perfon  of  your  defert  to  think  of  giving  me  his 
 heart,  that  I  cannot  think  it  Juftice  to  keep  mine  any 
 longer,  bLt  only  under  the  notion  of  another  mans 
 goods.  There  are  many  perfons,  I  confefs,  to  whom 
 I  am  bound  by  other  obligations  to  give  my  advice,  and 
 the  welfare  oiwhofe  fouls  I  am  to  attend ;  which  might 
 make  me  unwilling  to  hearken  to  this  defire  of  yours, 
 and  engage  my  felf  in  fo  weighty  a  charge.  But  fince 
 I  difcerna  more  than  ordinary  Love  in  your  breaft  to- 
 wards me  >  and  fince  I  am  touched  with  a  reciprocal  af- 
 fection, and  C  which  is  more  )  do  feel  a  certain  incli- 
 nation towards  you  above  all  others :  I  cannot  contain 
 my  felf,  but  I  muft  agree  to  your  motion.  It  is  true  in- 
 deed, we  ate  engaged  to  love  all  men,  and  our  Chari- 
 ty ought  to  be  as  difTuftve  as  the  Sunbeams ;  but  yet  I 
 am  of  the  mind  that  fome  may  challenge  a  more  pecu- 
 liar portion  of  it  than  other  of  their  neighbours.  For 
 I  obferve  that  the  Sun  it  felf  is  more  fond  of  fome 
 Plants  than  it  is  of  the  reft  ;  fo  that  we  fee  one  of  his 
 Favourites  turns  its  face  about  according  to  his  mo- 
 tion, that  it  may  not  mifs  of  his  falutesc  and  another, 
 they  fay,  which  lifts  up  its  head  above  water  when  he 
 ariles,  is  wont  to  fink  down  again  at  his  fetting ,  as  if 
 it  would  then  hide  it  felf,  and  fecretly  bewail  his  ab- 
 fence.  I  call  to  remembrance  alfo  that  God  himfelf 
 had  his  peculiar  People  $  and  that  even  among  them, 
 there  were  fome  <:hofen  perfons  tojwhom  he  communi- 
 cated more  of  his  fecrets.  W  hen  his  own  Son  appea- 
 red to  men  with  the  greateft  klndnefs  towards  them  5 
 yet  then  I  fee  he  had  fome  feled  fouls  who  were  nearer 
 to  him  than  any  other.  And  befides  the  Seventy  Twc 
 Difciplcs  who  were  particularly  devoted  to  his  fer- 
 vice$  he  made  choice  of  Twelve  Men  to  be  intruded 
 more  immediately  with  all  the  Myfieries  of  his  King- 
 dom. 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Ttlgrim.  ft* 
 
 cfom.  And  me-thinks  tliefe  Twelve  did  not  equally 
 Oand  in  his  favour,  but  there  was  fomc  difference 
 w  hich  he  made  in  his  eitecin  of  them,  For  I  obferve 
 that  there  were  Three  who  were  culled  out  to  be  wit- 
 nefles  of  his  Glory,and  before  whom  he  was  transfigu- 
 red in  the  Holy  Mount,  when  all  the  reft  were  left 
 with  the  multitude  below.  Nay,  and  of  thefe  Three 
 there  was  One  called  the  Beloved  Difciple,  and  became 
 his  more  bofome  friend  than  either  of  the  other  two. 
 And  therefore  fince  the  Saviour  of  the  World,  thac 
 great  Mirror  of  allVertues,had  his  inclinations  and  par- 
 ticular friendmips ;  I  will  not  fear  to  follow  lb  great  a 
 precedent.  After  an  example  of  fuch  high  Authority, 
 I  doubt  not  to  contract  a  nearer  and  ftricter  Amity 
 with  one  than  all  the  reft  of  my  acquaintance.  And 
 fince  the  feme  Saviour  will  have  you  to  be  my  corre- 
 fpondent  in  fo  dear  a  Love  (as  I  guefs  both  by  his  fend- 
 ing nowfo  feafonably  for  your  relief,  andalfobythe 
 fudden  change  which  your  very  language  tells  me  my 
 difcourfe  hath  wrought  in  your  foul )  I  mail  gladly 
 receive  you  with  the  greateft  paflion  into  my  imbraces, 
 and  hereafter  become  your  perpetual  Companion,  as 
 well  as  vour  Director  and  Guide. 
 
 CHAP, 
 
"Tbe^Parableoftbefilgrim: 
 
 CHAP.  XXVIII. 
 
 Of  the  Necefftty  of  Friend/hip.  Of  faithful  Counfcl.  How 
 the  Pilgrim  doubted whether  there  was  fuch  a  place  as 
 Jerufalem.T/fo?  fatuf action  which  his  Friend  gave  him 
 in  this  particular.  As  alfo  the  comfort  he  admimftred 
 to  him  in  a  great  ftcknefs. 
 
 NOw  the  poor  mans  heart  was  filled  with  an  inex- 
 preffible  Joy,  and  he  could  fcarce  travel  for  a 
 while  by  reafon  of  this  paflion  which  was  as  trouble- 
 fome  to  him,  as  the  contrary  had  been  before.  But 
 having  at  laft  overcome  the  excefs  of  it,  and  diflembled 
 it  alfo  while  it  ftaid  as  well  as  he  could,  left  his  Friend 
 fhould  think  he  was  made  up  of  nothing  but  contrari- 
 ety and  inconftancy :  On  they  went  very  merrily, 
 finging  feveral  Hymns  which  they  had  learnt,  for  di- 
 vers miles  together.  When  they  were  ended,  they 
 fell  into  a  very  pleafant  difcourfe  about  Heavenly  Poe- 
 try. And  the  good  Father  did  highly  extol  thofe 
 Divine  Souls,  who  had  converted  the  Mufes^  and  of 
 Gourtefans  and  lewd  Strumpets  made  them  turn  Reli- 
 gious and  Saintly  Creatures.  Surely,  faid  he,  it  was  a 
 brave  and  noble  A<5t  to  reclaim  them  from  fuch  a  de- 
 bauched life  as  they  had  a  long  time  led.  It  was  a 
 piece  of  very  eminent  fervice  to  the  World,  to  reform 
 their  impure  fpeech,  and  teach  themxhe  Language  of 
 Angels.  If  there  were  a  greater  number  of  fuch  in- 
 fpired  minds,  one  would  think  they  mo\ild  convert 
 the  whole  World,  by  plcafing  and  inftrucling  it  both 
 together. 
 
 Afcer 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim]  * 1 1 
 
 After  he  had  proceeded  for  fomc  time  in  this  ftrain, 
 the  young  Pilgrim  took  occafion  from  thence  to  dif- 
 courie  of  the  Harmony  that  is  between  fome  fouls,  and 
 the  fweet  confenc  of  two  equal  and  well-proportioned 
 hearts,  which  he  thought  were  able  to  interchange  the 
 greateft  felicities  in  the  World*  I  have  heard  indeed, 
 laid  he,  that  it  was  the  opinion  of  fome  of  the  ancienc 
 Sages,  thatawifemanftandsin  need  of  no  body  buc 
 himfelf,  and  that  whofoever  is  without  him,  is  not  ac 
 all  needful  to  him.  But  fure  thefe  were  peevilh  and 
 morofe  people,  whom  I  cannot  but  condemn  as  guilty 
 of  one  of  the  moft  dangerous  Schifms  in  the  World; 
 He  was  far  wifer,  I  think,  thatfaid,  ifvoe  look  on  men 
 in  general)  they  do  notfeemfo  much  a  great  many  fever al 
 intire  bodies^  as  fo  many  divide  dp  arts  which  Society  re* 
 unites :  I  muft  needs  confefs,  for  my  own  part,  that  I 
 feel  my  felf  but  half  a  man  without  a  friend.  I  cannot 
 but  place  him  in  the  number  of  neceflary,  and  not  only 
 of  delightful  things.  It  is  the  prerogative  of  God  to 
 need  none  but  himfelf.  It  is  too  much  for  us  to  live 
 alone,  who  inclofe  fo  fmall  a  portion  of  wifdom  and 
 ftrength  within  our  Beings*  I  do  not  reckon  my  felf 
 fafe  without  your  company.  My  felicity  would  be 
 imperfect  if  you  did  not  compleat  it.  I  dare  not  fo 
 much  as  truft  my  own  thoughts  unlefs  you  approve 
 them ;  nor  follow  my  own  counfels  unlefs  you  allow 
 them. 
 
 And  here  he  began  to  fpeakof  theneceflity  of  faith- 
 ful counfel,  and  that  it  was  not  to  be  procured  without 
 a  friend.  For  though  we  love  our  felves  never  fo  well, 
 yet  a  friend1  will  be  leis  treacherousto  us,  than  we  (hall 
 be  to  our  felves.  This  brought  to  mind  a  Comment 
 which  was  made  by  a  wifer  man  than  any  of  thofe 
 Tt-  fallen 
 
i*^  Tk  far  Me  of  the  Ttlgrm* 
 
 fallen  pieces  of  gravity  before-named,  opon  that  old 
 obfcure  faying,  Dry  light  is  ever  the  heft.   Certain  it  is, 
 faith  he,    That  the  Light  which  a  man  receives  by 
 counfel  from  another  faithful  perfon,  is  dryer  and 
 purer  than  that  which  cometh  from  his  own  under- 
 standing and  Judgement.  For  as  that  which  he  receives 
 is  feparate  from  all  intereft,  fo  that  which  he  gives  him- 
 fell  is  commonly  infufedanddrenchedinhisCuftoms 
 and  AffeCtions.    So  that  there  is  as  much  difference 
 between  the  counfel  of  a  friend,  and  that  which  a  man 
 beftowsonhimfelf,  as  between  the  counfel  of  a  friend 
 and  of  a  flatterer.  For  there  is  no  fuch  flatterer  as  is  a 
 mansfelf  s  and  there  is  no  fuch  remedy  againft  the  flat- 
 tery of  a  mans  felf,  as  the  liberty  of  a  friend.    And,  as 
 one  thing  ufually  draws  on  another,   this  brought  to 
 his  thoughts  a  handfome  difcourfe  of   another  per- 
 fon  whom  he  had  met  withal,    which  very  well  illu- 
 strated the  reafon  of  it ;  and  was  to  this  effect.    Every 
 man,  we  fay,is  neareft  to  himfelf ;  but  yet  he  is  too  near 
 to  be  his  own  Counfellor  in  things  which  concern  him- 
 felf.   There  is  not  fpace  enough  between  both,  where- 
 in to  debate  the  counfel  which  is  given,  and  which  is 
 received.     He  cannot  hinder  thofe  two  Reafons  which 
 deliberate  in  him  from  confounding  themfelves  in  com- 
 munication 5   for  that  which  propofeth  is  too  much 
 mixt  with  that  which  concludes.   He  can  find  no  place 
 free  within  to  weigh  his  Reafons.    But  he  propofes 
 thofe  which  will  favour  his  own  humour,  and  then  he 
 inclines  unto  them,  becaufc  they  are  his  own.    He  who 
 counfels  therefore  muft  be  another  perfon  diftinft 
 from  him  who  is  counfelled.    The  objects  mull  be 
 fet  at  a  proportionable  diftance  from  thofe  facul- 
 ties which  judge  of  them.    And  as  the  moft  quick- 
 flghted  can  never  fee  themfelves;    fo  the  greateft 
 
 wits 
 
77;e  Tarahle  of  the  filg'm,  •»  J, 
 
 wits  want  perfpicacity  in  things  thatrefpeft  their  own 
 totereft.     >  r 
 
 In  fuch  delightful  and  ufeful  talk  as  this  they  be- 
 guiled the  time,  and  inortned  the  length  of  the  ways. 
 And  it  was  no  fmall  contentment,  you  may  well  think, 
 to  the  good  old  man,  that  he  was  pofleffed  of  fuch  a 
 friend  who  could  refrefti  him  with  his  apt  difcourfes, 
 and  give  as  well  as  receive  infhuc*tion.  But  though  the 
 young  Pilgrim  was  a  perfon  of  fuch  competent  abili* 
 ties,  and  had  fo  good  a  friend  as  this  to  aflift  himj 
 imagining  alfo  when  the  firft  contract  was  made  be-; 
 tween  them,that  he  (hould  now  be  no  more  difturbed  5 
 yet  he  was  not  without  fome  melancholy  thoughts  at 
 certain  feafonf)  of  which  this,  as  I  remember,  was  the 
 chief.  They  two  being  talking  one  day  about  the 
 Pleafures  of  Jerufalem,  and  the  great  happinefs  they 
 fhould  enjoy  at  their  arrival  there,  which  ought  to 
 fweeten  by  its  expedition  all  the  difficulties  of  the 
 way>  he  askt  his  companion  with  a  very  fad  andde- 
 fponding  countenance,  if  it  might  not  admit  of  fome 
 difpute  whether  there  was  fuch  a  place  or  no,  and  how 
 he  would  prove  the  exigence  of  it. 
 
 At  which  Queftion,  becaufe  he  feemed  to  make  a 
 real  doubt,  the  Father  gave  a  very  great  ftart,  and 
 faid  with  a  more  than  ordinary  vehemence  \  What  ? 
 Are  we  now  to  begin  again,  and  do  you  remain  unfa- 
 tisfied  of  that  which  was  the  firft  thing  you  learnt  ? 
 What  was  it  that  made  you  ftir  one  foot  in  this  Jour- 
 ney, if  you  were  not  perfwaded  you  fhould  comedo 
 JerafaUm  C  Or  how  came  you  to  hold  out  thus  long, 
 and  that  you  did  not  tyre  many  months  ago  7  And 
 did  you  not  once,  when  you  were  tempted  by  fome 
 T  t  a  idle 
 
.2^  TbeJParable  of  the  Vilgrinu 
 
 idle  perfons  to  disbelieve  it,  reject  with  anger  all.  theic 
 frivolons  allegations?  Gocd  God  1  Whac  a  thing  is 
 the  Soul  of  man?  How  weak  and  infirm  is  our  nature  i 
 How  fickle  and  uncertain  are  our  moft  ferious 
 thoughts  i  And  what  a  great  patience  is  it  that  we  ex.- 
 ercife  every  day^  purely  if  thy  Love  were  not  wider 
 than  the  Circle  of  Heaven,  we  mould  rhrow  our  felves 
 
 out  of  the  compafs  of  it Say  no  more,  faidthe 
 
 other  C  who  here  interrupted  his  fpeech  )  for  I  am  very 
 fenfible  of  the  truth  of  what  you  affirm.  The  foul  of 
 man  is  an  object  very  worthy  of  your  pity,  and  whofe 
 ft  ate  can  never  be  fuffidently  deplored.  Nor  do  t 
 know  any  Soul  that  deferves  it  more  than,  mine,  which 
 is  made,  it  feems,  to  exercifeyour  patience  as  well  as 
 Gods.  We  cannot  help  it,  I  think  (fo  more  and  forget- 
 ful are  our  Thoughts)  but  wemuft  go  backward  and 
 forward.  Sometimes  we  are  confident,  and  fometimes 
 we  are  doubtful.  Now  we  are  merry,  and  prefently 
 we  are  fad  even  becaufe  we  were  merry.  Nothing  will 
 ihake  us  in  this  temper,  but  in  another  a  leaf  or  a  fear 
 ther  will  make  us  turn  afide.  But  donor,  I  befeech 
 you,  upbraid  unto  me  this  mifery,  which  rather  im- 
 plores Jour  charity  to  find  a  cure  for  if. . 
 
 Well  then,  faid  the  other,  in  compliance  with  your 
 neceffuy,  let  us  ftep  back  a  little  (  which  I  hope  will 
 not  prove  a  very  great  hinderance  to  us )  and  let  us 
 fearch  if  we  have  foolifhly  undertaken  this  Journey 
 to  Jerufalem.  So  he  led  him  by  the  hand  to  a 
 certain .  friends  houfe  which  they  had  not  left  much 
 behind,"  and  there  (without  accepting  of  any  refection 
 which  Avas  offered  to  them  J  prefently  called  for  a  cer- 
 tain Book  which  was  full  of  Mapps  attended  with  Dif- 
 CQurfes  of  feveral  Countreys :  in  one  of  which  was  a 
 
 defcription 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  T'tlgrm.  ,\. 
 
 ctefcription  of  the  promifed  Land  and  the  famous  City 
 J-ert»[*lem.  And  that  he  might  be  allured  of  the  faithfuf- 
 nefs  of  it,  he  bid  him  caft  his  eye  to  the  bottom,  and 
 there  he  (hould  find  the  name  of  the  man  that  was  the 
 Author  of  thofe  fair  Tables;  and  who  mould  [hat  be, 
 but  Jefus,  together  with  a  fervant  of  his  St.  Paul  who 
 finifhed  by  his  direction  what  his  Mafter  had  be- 
 gun .  There  he  found  that  the  former  of  thefe  perfons 
 profefled  that  he  came  from  Heaven,  which  he  proved 
 alfoby  many  Arguments  of  Divine  Authority :  and 
 the  latterthathe  was  caught  up  into  Paradife  and  the 
 third  Heavens,  where  he  had  a  perception  of  fuch 
 things  as  could  not  be  painted  in  thofe  Papers.  And 
 then  turning  over  feveral  leaves  that  treated  of  this 
 Country :  he  mewed  him  fuch  an  exaft  Defcription  of: 
 the  Scituation  and  Nature  of  the  place,  of  the  Quality 
 of  the  Inhabitants,  of  the  imployments  wherein  they 
 areingaged,  of  the  Fruits  of  the  Soil,  of  the  Way  that 
 led  to  it,  of  the  travels  of  feveral  perfons  that  had  gone 
 thither,  of  the  return  of  one  of  them  ( even  Jefus  him- 
 felf)  upon  feveral  occafions  into  this  World,  and  of 
 the  defcent  of  Angels  which  allured  men  of  it;  toge- 
 ther with  the  teftimonyof  many  undeniable  Witnefles- 
 Call  fervantsof  Jefus)  concerning  the  truth  of  thefc 
 things,  whom  he  alfo  there  examined  over  again  be-' 
 fore  him ;  that  he  was  aftumed  of  his  incredulity,  and 
 bluftit  to  think  that  he  had  given  him  this  new  trouble. 
 But  above  all,  the  Good  man  fhew'd  him  that  Jefus  by 
 his  laft  Will  and  Teftament  had  made  over  an  inheri- 
 tance in  Jerufalem  to  all  his  faithful  Followers.  And 
 that  he  had  fealed  and  ratified  this  Will  with  his  own 
 deareft  blood.  And  that  God  had  let  to  ic  his  Seal  al- 
 fo, by  railing  him  from  the  dead  and  giving  him  Glory 
 at  his  own  right  hand.   And  that  this  was  demonftrated 
 
 and. 
 
2 1 6  We  Parable  of  the  Pilgritn. 
 
 and  that  Deed  of  Chrift  further  eftablimed,   by  the 
 fending  of  the  Holy  Ghoft  upon  the  Apoftles  and 
 thofe  to  whom  they  Preached.     For  this  made  it  evi- 
 dent, faid  he,  that  Jefus  is  Crowned  King  in  Jerufalem^ 
 from  whence  he  fent  thefe  Royal  gifts  to  men,  and  it  is 
 the  earnefl  of  our  inheritance ;  and  by  it  we  arejcaledto 
 the  day  of  Redemption.  All  which,  and  much  more,  for 
 his  further  fatisfaction,  and  better  remembrance,  he  af- 
 terward got  one  to  comprife  in  a  little  Book ;  wherein 
 was  (hewn  that  This  is  the  record  which  God  hath  given 
 of  his  Son,  that  in  him  we  have  eternal  life.     It  would 
 make  my  relation  too  long  if  I  mould  tranferibe  thac 
 Treatife,  which  is  ilfo  come  to  my  hands ;   and  there- 
 fore I  (hall  only  acquaint  you  with  the  conclufion  of 
 their  difcourfc  oa  this  argument,   which  was  to  this 
 purpofe.    And  now,  faid  the  Father,  if  you  call  in 
 queftion  the  credit  of  this  Story  concerning  Jefus,  be- 
 caufe you  never  faw  him ;  I  would  wifh  you  to  take 
 heed  left  you  be  a  teacher  of  Rebellion,  and  learn  men 
 co  juftifie  Sedition  againft  their  lawful  Soveraign.    For 
 if  we  muft  entertain  nothing  but  what  we  our  felvet 
 fee;   then  the  Rabble  may  do  well  to  fay,  they  have 
 no  King,  becaufe  they  never  faw  his  face ;  nor  hath  he 
 yet  gone  his  progrefs  among  them:  and  that  there  are 
 no  Laws  that  oblige  them,  becaufe  they  were  not  prc^ 
 fent  when  they  were  enacted,  nor  heard  His  Majefty 
 fay,  The  King  will,  or  that  he  confented  to  them.  For 
 my  part  I  cannot  fee  lefs  reafon  to  believe,  that  our 
 Lord  was  miraculoufly  conceived ,  uftiered  into  the 
 World  by  a  Star,and  the  ihouts  of  the  Heavenly  HoftSj 
 anointed  with  the  Holy  Ghoft  at  his  Baptifm,   trans- 
 figured on  the  holy  Mount,   confefled  by  Devils,  ac- 
 knowledged by  Angels,  juftified  by  Miracles,  raifed 
 from  the  Dead,  and  taken  up  to  Gloiy;  than  our 
 
 children 
 
The  <P  arable  of  the  fUgr'tml  j2# 
 
 children  will  have  Hj[  believe  that  our  prefent  Sove- 
 raign  after  a  long  banifhment  was  fuddenly  reftored 
 to  his  Throne,  that  he  entred  his  Royal  City  on  fuch 
 a  day  with  the  joyful  acclamations  of  all  his  people, 
 that  he  rode  in  Triumph,  and  was  folemnly  Crowned 
 the  year  following  5  and  that  the  Book  containing  a 
 defcription  of  the  Magnificent  Ceremonies  of  that  day, 
 gives  a  true  and  juft  account  of  them.  They  that 
 would  perfwade  you  to  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  holy 
 Writings,  which  convey  the  notice  of  thofe  greac 
 things  to  you,  and  whereby  you  hold  all  the  hopes  you 
 have  of  happinefsat  Jeruft/em^  may  in  time  think 
 their  wits  fo  fine  as  to  go  about  to  prove  that  the  Great 
 Charter  oitngUrtd.  is  but  a  forged  Deed,  that  ail  the 
 Liberties  you  think  you  have  are  but  the  Idols  of  your 
 own  brain,  or  that  the  whole  Writing  by  factious  fpi- 
 rits  hath  been  corrupted  and  altered  at  their  pleafure. 
 And  ifyouftiould  fay,  that  there  are  fomany  Argu- 
 ments to  flop  their  mouths  that  they  will  be  afhamed 
 of  fuch  foolifli  talk ;  for  Kings  have  fealed  it,  and  Par- 
 liaments confirm'd  it,  and  all  Englifhmen  have  a  long 
 time  aflerted  it  5  you  will  find  your  felf  much  miftaken^ 
 and  (ee  that  thefe  allegations  arc  not  confiderable 
 with  fuch  difputers.  For  fo  have  thefe  holy  books  fas 
 I  efteern  them)  been  ever  received  for  the  Apoftolical 
 Writings  5  none  could  ever  prove  them  guilty  of  any 
 impofture  ;  nor  do  cheir  greateft  enemies  charge  them 
 with  the  crime  of  reporting  falfe  Miracles ;.  yea,  the 
 Jews  acknowledge  them  to  have  been  wrought,  and 
 Heathen  writers  have  fet  their  hands  to  fome  things  of 
 bo  mean  account ;  and  yet  thefe  are  not  fuffruent  with 
 fuch  men  to  prove  them  true,  becaufe  they  did  not 
 ftand  at  the  Apoftles  elbows  when  they  were  penned 
 and  tent  abroad  into  the  World.  And  therefore  what  is 
 
 in. 
 
}i8         _      Thefardbleoftbefilpirn. 
 
 lathe  confeffion  of  a\\  England  worth  to  prove  your 
 Liberties^  face  the  confeflion  of  the  whole  Chriftian 
 World  for  fo  many  ages  is  not  worth  a  ftraw  with 
 them  to  prove  chefe  Writings?  If  they  will  not  let  you 
 have  a  Jefus  becaufe  they  did  not  fee  him ;  why  mould 
 they  fuffei  you  to  enjoy  any  other  things  which  they 
 can  take  away  upon  the  fame  pretence  i  But  if  they 
 will  permit  you  to  enjoy  the  benefit  of  any  ancient 
 Deeds,  when  nothing  can  be  juftly  excepted  againft 
 them  ;  then  we  hope  that  it  is  lawful  to  eall  the  Go- 
 fpel  ( as  one  of  the  Ancients  doth  )  our  new  conveyance 
 whereby  Jefus  hath  fetled  upon  us  an  everlafting  inhe- 
 ritance in  the  Heavenly  Country,  of  far  greater  value 
 than  that  which  the  Ifraelitesby  Vertue  of  the  old  wri- 
 tings poffefled  inthe  earthly. 
 
 %  Here  the  young  Traveller  pluckt  him  by  the  fleeve, 
 befeeching  him  to  make  no  longer  flay  in  that  place, 
 for,  faid  he,  you  have  diffipated  all  my  clouds  already, 
 and  I  am  fully  perfwaded  that  there  is  fuch  a  City  as 
 ferufa/etn.  Though  I  doubted  a  little  of  it,  yet  let  mc 
 not  be  fufpected  of  Infidelity.  Iproteft  to  you  that  I 
 bear  fuch  a  reverend  regard  to  thefe  Writings  which 
 you  have  laid  before  me,  that  I  would  rather  lofe  all 
 the  goods  I  have  in  the  World  than  part  with  them.  I 
 have  a  long  time  held  them  fo  facred  that  they  have 
 been  my  comforters  in  all  my  troubles,  and  the  Songs 
 of  my  Pilgrimage.  At  this  very  momem  I  carry  them 
 about  me  and  mail  hereafter  fet  a  greater  value  on 
 them ;  for  what  I  have  held  by  Cuftome  I  (hall  now 
 hold  by  reafon,  and  be  able  to  render  an  account  to 
 thofe  that  ask  of  the  Hope  that  is  in  me.  Let  us  go  on, 
 Sir,  I  intreat  you  without  any  further  difpute,  and  how* 
 foever  negligent  I  have  been  in  former  times,  I  am  re- 
 "  folved 
 
Tlx  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim .  319 
 
 folved  hereafter  to  read  this  Holy  Book  with  more  at- 
 tention of  Mind  :  and  to  procure  thereby  that  this 
 fhort  itay  may  not  make  me  come  a  whit  the  later  to  my 
 journeys  end. 
 
 It  is  very  well  done,  faid  the  Father,  that  you  have 
 provided  your  felf  with  fo  neceflary  a  companion  as 
 that  Book  is  :  which  might  fcrve  to  direct  you  with- 
 out me,  but  that  I  let  you  are  not  fufficiently  acquaint- 
 ed with  the  language  of  it.  When  you  read  of  the 
 mtnefs  of  the  Spirit,  it's  like  you  waited  for  fome  im- 
 mediate afiurancc  of  the  truth  of  thefe  writings.  And 
 when  you  heard  them  fpeak  of  our  being  fea/ed  with 
 the  holy  fpirit  of  promt //r,  you  lookt  for  an  infpirati- 
 on,  and  expected  to  be  fhmpt  and  imrreffed  with  a 
 certain  perfwafion  of  their  Authority.  Which  is  as 
 much  as  to  fay,  that  you  defired  to  be  indued  wich  a 
 confidence,  which  as  it  flood  upon  no  ground,  fo 
 might  be  fhaken  without  any  caufe  at  all.  But  I  pray 
 you  hereafter  to  be  as  good  as  your  word,  applying 
 your  mind  more  vigoroufly  to  comprehend  the  fenfe 
 of  what  you  read  $  and  where  «you  doubt  of  any 
 thing,  repair  to  me,  that  I  may  affift  your  Under- 
 ftanding."  And  above  all  things  let  me  once  for  all 
 advife  you  to  ufe  all  means  to  ftrengthen  your  faith 
 concerning  the  other  Life,  and  to  affaire  your  felf 
 upon  fuch  evidence  as  I  have  given  you,  that  Jcfa  is 
 gone  to  Jerufaiem,  and  there  expects  your  coming  to 
 him.  Do  but  firmly  perfwade  your  heai  t  of  this,  and 
 keep  it  in  your  mind,  and  then  Ifhall  think  itasim- 
 poffiblefor  you  to  grow  weary,  as  for  the  Sun  toftand 
 ftilU  and  asimpofTible  you  fhould  mifcarry,  as  that 
 the  Suq  fhould  fall  from  his  Orb. 
 
 Uu  After 
 
Tk  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 After  he  had  received  apromifefrom  him,  that  he 
 would  do  his  endeavour  to  make  his  Soul  more  fenii- 
 ble  of  this  weighty  thing  :  they  buckled  rhemfelvcs 
 afrefh  to  their  march.  And  never  did  the  young  man 
 travel  fo  luflily  as  now  5  for  he  had  gathered  much  • 
 ftrengthby  his  doubting;  and  thought  he  felt  himfelf 
 attracted  and  haled  towards  Heaven  by  the  glory  of 
 it  which  now  (hone  upon  him  ;  juft  as  theLoad(tone 
 draws  Iron  to  it,  and  makes  it  skip  into  its  bofo'm.  If 
 I  Ihould  fay  that  he  ran  now  rather  than  went,  I  mould 
 mifreport  the  fervours  wherein  he  felt  him'e.'f  •,  which 
 indeed  furniflied  him  with  Wings,  and  made  him  not 
 fo  much  to  run,  as  fly  towards  the  Holy  City  of  God. 
 He  was  all  aiery,  and  feemed  not  to  touch  the  earth 
 with  his  feet :  and  as  for  his  own  Flelh,  he  had  fo 
 many  Spirits,  that  it  was  no  more  a  Burden  to  him 
 than  the  Feathers  are  to  a  Bird,  which  rather  help 
 than  hinder  it  in  its  flight.  But  yet  fib  mutable  is 
 this  Body  of  ours )  he  had  notflovm  very  long,  be- 
 ing afiifted  by  every  thing  that  he  faw  or  heard,  or 
 met  withal,  before  he  was  made  fenfible  that  he  was 
 cloathedwkh  a  greater  weight  of  Flefh  than  he  ima- 
 gined 3  and  that  this  Globe  of  Earth  had  a  greater 
 power  over  him  than  he  was  willing  to  believe.  For  he 
 was  feifed  with  fuch  a  violent  ficknefs,  and  felt  his 
 blood  in  fuch  a  boiling  heat,  that  he  thought  now  he 
 was  not  in  the  Air,  but  at  the  beft  in  a  thick  cloud  of 
 ftinking  vapours  which  almoft  choaked  his  Vital  fpi- 
 rits.  He  had  not  mounted  up  to  fo  high  a  pitch  be- 
 fore, but  he  fancied  nc&v  that  he  was  funk  as  low; 
 and  that  the  Terreftrial  parts  prevailed,  if  not  far 
 more,  yet  as  much  as  the  Aerial  had  lately  done. 
 Yery  often  he  laboured  to  heave  up  himfelf;  and  lefc 
 r,o  means  unattempted  to  foar  aloft  as  he  was  wont, 
 
 but 
 
The  farablf  of  the  Tilgr'm.  351 
 
 but  all  in  vain,  for  he  was  fo  opprellcd  and  over- load- 
 ed wich  thac  ilaggirti  matter  which  now  flowed 
 through  his  whole  Body,  that  he  could  fcarce  fetch 
 his  breath,  unlefs  it  were  in  fighs  and  groans  at  the 
 alteration  which  hefuffered.  Juft  as  a  vcflll  of  good 
 Wine  which  now  being  fweet  and  pleafant,  is  rendred 
 ere  long  acid  and  ungrateful  to  our  palate,  by  theaf- 
 cent  and  flowing  of  thofcfaline  particles  which  before 
 were  thru  ft  down  or  put  afide :  So  was  his  Spirit  fowr- 
 ed  and  rendred  unacceptable  to  himfelf,  by  the  float- 
 ing agaVi  of  thofe  ill  humours,  which  he  hoped  had 
 been  buried  in  their  graves,  never  to  rife  and  difturb 
 him  any  more. 
 
 It  would  be  both  too  tedious  and  too  fad,  to  relate 
 all  the  affliction  which  he  endured  from  his  dejected 
 thoughts  5  And  I  (hall  rather  chufe  to  tell  you  how 
 his  companion  addrefted  him'elfto  his  Cute,  whereby 
 you  will  underftand  fufficiently  the  nature  of  his 
 difeafe.  1  am  forry  to  fee  you  thus  ill  ( faid  his  kind 
 Phvfitian  when  he  firft  came  to  him  )  but  it  is  no  more 
 than  I  expected  -,  and  it  would  not  much  trouble  me, 
 if  I  did  not  find  your  mind  more  disordered  than  your 
 body.  I  will  not  add  :b  much  to  your  pain,  as  to  bid 
 you  tell  me  what  it  is  that  troubles  you;  for  I  am  not 
 fo  unacquainted  with  thefe  diftempers,  but  that  I  per- 
 ceive the  fymptomes  of  a  mind  much  grieved,  becaufe 
 it  cannot  think  of  Jcfus  and  Jernftlem  with  the  fame 
 freedom  and  pleafure,  that  it  did  not  long  ago.  This 
 I  eafily  fee  is  the  ficknefs  you  fabour  under ;  and  fee- 
 ting  afidethe  angulm  which  this  creates,  I  do  not  be- 
 lieve you  have  any  reafon  to  complain.  But  I  pray 
 you,  my  Dear  Brother,  do  you  not  think  of  our  Lord 
 very  much,  when  you  are  Patient  and  quietly  refigned 
 
 UU   2  tO 
 
3ji  Tb$  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 to  his  Will  in  every  thing  i  Are  you  not  much  in  his 
 .company  when  you  take  up  your  Crofs  with  a  meek 
 Spirit,  laying,  Not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done  i  For 
 what  was  Jefa,  but  a  great  Example  cf  Patience  and 
 humble  fubmiffion  to  the  pleafure  of  God  through- 
 out the  whole  courfe  of  his  Life  i  Why  do  you 
 then  place  the  contentment  of  your  heart  in  being 
 able  to  pray  with  your  wonted  intention,  and  to 
 conten  plate  Divine  things  with  fuch  a  dearnefs  as 
 when  you  were  in  the  pure  sky  ;  and  not  rather  in 
 accomplifhing  the  Will  of  our  Lord,  who  knows 
 what  place  is  beft  for  us,  and  what  condition  will  moft 
 certainly  conduce  to  our  Good?  Let  me  ask  you,  is 
 not  this  ficknefs  now  come  upon  you  by  his  appoint- 
 ment, and  fent  by  the  direction  of  his  wife  provi- 
 dence <  Doyounofthink  it  to  be  his  will,  that  the 
 time  which  not  long  ago  was  fpent  in  praying,  fhould 
 now  be  fpent  in  vomiting  <  Let  it  be  fo  then  (  as 
 a  good  man  was  wont  to  fay )  and  let  us  not  mut- 
 ter at  it  :  But  fee  you  take  more  pleafure  in  this 
 that  he  is  pleafed,  than  if  you  pofiefled  Heaven  and 
 Earth.  And  fuppofe  this  be  a  punifhment  for  fome 
 offence,  and  that  now  he  chaftifes  fome  inordinate 
 defire ;  for  I  difcern,  me- thinks,  an  indication  of  fome 
 fuch  fcruple  that  molefts  your  thoughts  :  what  have 
 you  more  to  do  in  that  cafe  but  to  be  thankful,  and 
 to  caft  your  felf  at  his  feet,  defiring  both  correction, 
 and  forgivenefs.  To  be  thankful  I  fay,  becaufe  we 
 are  much  beholden  to  him ;  that  he  will  put  himfelf 
 to  the  trouble  of  finding  out  means  of  our  amend- 
 ment. Nay,  fome  pious  men  have  thought  that  to 
 be  corrected  by  the  hand  of  fuch  a  Father,  and  with 
 fo  much  love,  doth  put  us  rather  into  a  need  of  Hu- 
 mility for  the  moderating  our  Joy  which  we  fhali 
 
 be 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  J}$ 
 
 be  apt  to  conceive  in  his  Charity  towards  us,  than  of 
 the  Vertue  of  Patience  whereby  to  endure  the  punifh- 
 ment  that  he  layesuponus.  For  is  it  not  a  great  fa- 
 vour that  he  will  lo:>k  after  us  i  Is  it  not  a  mark  of  his 
 tfteem  that  he  thinks  it  worth  his  pains  to  ufe  his  Rod 
 to  reclaim  us  i  And  would  you  have  him  be  fo  fond  as 
 to  let  you  proceed  to  commit  thofe  faults,  which  he 
 knows  will  utterly  fpoil  you  i  Should  he  love  you  if  he 
 did  forbear  his  ftripes,  when  he  fees  there  is  great  need 
 of  fuch  fharp  inftruments  to  reform  yoa?  Or  do  you 
 think  he  delights  to  afflicY,  and  takes  a  greater  pleafure 
 to  hear  you  cry  and  roar  under  his  hand,  than  to  hear 
 you/ing  andrejoyce  in  his  arms?  It  is  unchriftian  to 
 impute  unto  him  fuch  Cruelty.  You  cannot  without 
 impiety  imagine,  either  that  he  will  not  chaftife  his 
 children  in  order  to  make  them  ceafe  to  offend  ;  or 
 that  he  will  not  grant  a  pardon  when  they  humbly 
 bow  their  wills  to  his,  and  ask  it  of  him.  No  queftion 
 he  will  do  both  when  caufe  reqaires  •  and  though 
 fometimes  he  gives  a  pardon  without  any  correction, 
 yet  never  the  correction  without  an  intent  to  pardon* 
 Lye  ftill  therefore  under  his  Fatherly  hand,  and  then  I 
 allure  you  there  is  greater  reafon  both  to  be  thankful, 
 and  alio  to  expeft  a  pardon }  becaufe  you  are  much 
 amended  when  your  own  will  is  fo  broken,  that  you 
 can  fubmit  to  any  of  his  Rods. 
 
 But  here  I  muft  not  forget  to  admonifh  you  of  one 
 thing  which  I  have  fomewhere  read  in  the  advices  of 
 a  grave  perfon,  which  is ;  To  take  great  heed  that 
 your  flelh  do  not  deceive  and  cheat  yon  with  its  difli- 
 mulations  while  you  are  in  this  ftate ;  endeavouring- 
 to  (lubber  over  negligence  under  the  pretext  of,  /  can- 
 not do  Any  more,    k  is  true,  we  are  not  tyed  to  that. 
 
 which 
 
334  77>e  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim.* 
 
 which  we  cannot  do-  but  yet  the  flefh  will  fometimes 
 juggle  and  complain  of  impotence,  when  there  is  no- 
 thing hinders  us  but  only  fioth.  Here  you  muft  look 
 upon  yourfelf  with  a  great  many  eyes ;  youmuft  be- 
 come your  own  fpy,  and  narrowly  watch  the  moil  fe- 
 ci et  motions  of  your  heart.  For  this  Eve  that  is  with- 
 in us,  is  fo  defirous  to  be  cheriihed  and  pleafed,  to  be 
 walking  up  and  down  the  Garden,  and  to  be  eating  of 
 the  forbidden  fruit -,  that  (he  wants  not  a  thoufand  in- 
 ventions to  make  us  believe  that  her  demands  do  not 
 extend  to  fuperfluiries,"but  only  to  things  necelTary  for 
 us;  that  (he  doth  not  deiire  eafe  and  plea  ure  fomuch 
 as  reft  from  hard  labours ;  and  (he  is  in  a  mighty  chafe 
 if  we  will  not  give  a  perfect  credit  to  her.  She  per- 
 fwades  us  fometime  that  we  are  much  weaker  than  in 
 truth  we  can  affirm  our  (elves  to  be:  She  tells  us  that 
 we  cannot  with  fafety  think  of  any  thing  elfe  but  her, 
 and  is  not  willing  to  let  us  make  a  tryal :  She  bids  us 
 attend  only  to  her  quiet  and  fatisfa&ion,  and  not  fufTer 
 the  mind  to  diflurb  her  repofe  at  all  :  And  the  more 
 we  humour  and  gratifieher  defires,  the  more  (till  (lie 
 bemoans  her  felf  to  move  our  pity  towards  her.  Ic 
 concerns  us  therefore  to  be  careful  in  obferving  what 
 good  it  is  that  we  can  then  perform  without  a  manifeft 
 prejudice  to  our  health,  and  to  make  provifion  that  it 
 be  not  neglected  by  means  of  the  heavy  complaints  of 
 lazinefsandfloth.  Look  up  unto  Jefa  as  often  as  you 
 can.  Tell  him  in  the  fecrets  of  your  foul  that  you  hear- 
 tily love  him.  Open  your  very  bofom  to  him,  and 
 fhew  howdefirous  you  are  to  be  more  conformed  un- 
 to him  by  this  affliction.  Pray  him  to  come  and  ran- 
 fack  your  heart,  and  to  throw  out  of  doors,  whatfo- 
 ever  is  offenfive  to  "him.  Let  him  know  that  you  had 
 rather  (not  only  befick,but)  dye  a  thoufand  times 
 
 than 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim,  335 
 
 than  not  be  friends  with  him.  And  fo  intreat  him  to 
 take  pity  upon  you.  Promifc  him  to  do  vvhattbever 
 he  would  have  you.  And  exhort  all  others  of  your 
 acquaintance,  that  they  would  love  and  ferve  him 
 more  than  you  can  do.  And  this  let  me  ad  J  for  your 
 comfort,  that  fometimes  he  beftows  more  favours  up- 
 on fick  men  in  their  Beds,  who  can  pray  in  no  other 
 manner,  but  by  the  humiliations  and  proftrate  fubmif- 
 fions  of  their  Wills  to  him,  than  he  doth  upon  fome 
 others  who  fpend  many  hours  on  their  bended  knees 
 in  that  holy  exercife.  And  do  not  defpair,  I  befeech 
 you,  of  receiving  this  mercy,  though  you  think  your 
 ielf  never  fo  unworthy  of  it,  fince  it  cofts  him  no  more, 
 but  only  his  Will  to  beftow  it. 
 
 With  thefe,  and  fuch  like  Difcourfes,  the  Good  man 
 entertained  his  friend  in  this  ficknefs  for  many  dayes, 
 which  put  the  time  into  afpeedierpace  than  othcrwife 
 it  would  have  patted  away.  Though  he  kept  his 
 Bed  for  fome  weeks,  yet  the  hours  did  not  feem  at  all 
 tedious  to  him,  but  rather  fled  away  as  faft,  as  he  uted 
 before  to  do  himfelf.  So  happy  a  thing  it  is  to  have 
 a  partner  in  our  troubles,  and  the  affiftance  of  another 
 moulder  befide  our  own  to  bear  our  griefs.  Good 
 Difcourfes  are  like  the  breath  of  Heaven,  which  when 
 the  burdened  Velfel  feels,  (he  cuts  her  way  through  all 
 the  waves,  and  never  complains  of  the  greatnefs  of  her 
 burden.  Nay,  they  proved  to  him  like  the  cool  Air 
 which  refremes  the  gafping  Traveller  in  a  hot  day, 
 making  his  very  body  feel  its  legs  the  fooner,  by  the 
 delicate  touches  which  they  gave  unto  his  Spirit.  All 
 the  Art  of  his  Doctors,  and  a  whole  Apothecaries 
 Shop  had  not  been  able  to  reftore  his  comumed  flefli 
 fo  eafily,  and  in  fuch  a  little  fpace  of  time;  as  thefe  So- 
 vereign. 
 
$3  6  The  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 veraign  Cordials  which  Milled  from  the  Good  mans 
 lips,  and  were  drawn,  he  felt,  from  the  very  bottom 
 of  his  heart.  I  have  wondered  fometimes  w  hen  I  con- 
 iidercd  the  fuddennefs  of  his  recovery  •  for  chough  he 
 lay  fome  weeks  in  a  feeble  condition,  it  was  becaufe  he 
 did  not  at  firft  receive  thefe  Medicines ;  which  lb  foon 
 as  he  rafted,  he  became  another  man,  and  feemed  to 
 have  a  New  Eflence  infufed  into  him.  It  is  no  new 
 piece  of  Philofophy,butan  Axiome  older  than  Hipp)- 
 crates^  and  which  calls  Solomon  { thar  great  Phyficiao  ) 
 its  Father :  Heaviness  in  the  heart  of  a  man  maketh  it 
 Vrov.  12.  2$.  jiC9p  .  y!tt  A  g0od  word  maketh  it  glad.  And  in  another 
 place  of  his  Aphorifms  we  read,  that  A  merry  heart 
 *7'22'  doth  good  to  a  Medicine  :  but  a  broken  fpiris  dryeth 
 the  bones.  - 
 
 CHAP.   XXIX. 
 
 Of  the  trouble  which  the  pilgrim  was  in  about  fome  buft- 
 nefs  which  had  lain  negletfed  during  his  ficknefs.  Of 
 his  de fires  after  a  contemplative  Life.  Of  Solitude.  The 
 Profit  of  it :  especially  at  the  beginning  of  our  Chrifti- 
 an  courfe.  And  how  they  that  enjoy  it,  do  not  find  all 
 the  fatisf action  which  they  expecledin  it. 
 
 )Eing  able  therefore  by  the  good  infpirations  of  his 
 
 )  friend  (  whofe  mouth  he  acknowledged  was  a  well 
 
 Prov.  io.  ii.  of  Life)  to  go  about  the  houfe :  He  fpent  as  much  time 
 as  he  was  able  in  praifing  God,  inftrudting  the  fervants, 
 and  doing  good  to  all  his  neighbours,  not  negleding 
 any  duty  which  God  or  man  required  of  him.  But  fo 
 it  was,  that  having  been  long  lick,  there  were  fome 
 necefiary  buGnefles  in  which  both  he  and  his  friend 
 
 were 
 
 B! 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim]  iW 
 
 were  concerned,  that  had  lain  as  long  as  himfelf  with- 
 ou  any  regard.  Thefe  called  very  importunately  up- 
 on him  for  his  attendance,  and  being  very  weighty, 
 and  requiring  quick  difpatch,  would  not  ceafe  to  fol- 
 licite  more  of  his  thoughts  than  he  was  willing  to  al- 
 low them.  It  will  be  of  no  ufc  to  tell  you  what  they 
 were,  but  it  may  be  fufficient  to  let  you  know  thac 
 they  were  of  fuch  moment  that  without  a  manifeft 
 wrong  both  to  himfelf  and  others ,  he  could  by  no 
 means  put  them  off,  nor  make  them  reft  contented 
 with  a  cold  and  flow  management  of  them.  And  yec 
 from  hence  his  mind  took  occafion  to  fpring  a  new 
 doubt,  which  he  had  not  power  to  remove  himfelf,  till 
 he  had  made  it  known  to  his  Friend  5  though  his  af- 
 fairs were  not  fo  urgent  but  that  they  left  him  a  little 
 leifure  to  confider  of  that  which  might  have  given  him 
 fome  fatisfaction.  For  whenfoever  a  crowd  of  little 
 occafions  throng'dinupon  him,  and  would  not  be  de- 
 nyed  his  company  5  then  he  began  to  frown  upon  him- 
 felf becaufe  he  did  not  find  (o  much  vacancy  as  his 
 heart  defiredfor  private  Prayer  and  Recollection. 
 
 To  this  the  Father  faid  (  as  foon  as  he  had  eafed 
 himfelf  of  the  fcruple  by  telling  of  it )  that  for  his  pare 
 he  was  very  glad  to  find  he  had  fuch  a  vehement  love 
 for  retired  thoughts  and  fecret  converfe  with  God ; 
 and  that  he  fighed  fo  much  after  it,  as  far  more  de- 
 lightful to  him  than  the  open  World  and  all  the  bra- 
 very which  it  hangs  out  to  us.  But  he  told  him  alfo 
 that  he  was  to  be  blamed  for  thinking  himfelf  lefs 
 pleafing  to  God  in  what  he  was  a  doing,  becaufe  he  was 
 lefs  pleating  to  himfelf.  For,  do  you  not  know,  faid 
 he,  that  God  hath  bidden  us  ferve  our  neighbour  as 
 much  as  we  can  j  and  that  it  is  an  idle  pretence  to  fay 
 X  x  we 
 
«8  ^  Parole  of  the  Tilgrm. 
 
 we  love  God  whom  we  never  fa w,  if  we  love  not  onr 
 Brother  whom  we  fee  continually?  And  hath  he  not 
 placed  ns  in  a  Body  which  muft  be  kd9  and  that  can- 
 not be  nouf  ifhed  with  Thoughts  and  live  upon  Medi- 
 tations }  nor  be  fupported  without  the  labour  of  its 
 own  hands  <  Why  then  do  you  complain  that  it  can- 
 not be  filled  with  a  Prayer,  and  have  its  hunger  fatif- 
 iied  with  an  Hymn  ?  Perhaps  it  miy  fo  fall  out,  that  a 
 great  many  things  (hall  require  our  ferviceatone  and 
 the  fame  time ;  and  though  we  call  not  for  them  all 
 together,  yet  they  call  on  us  and  bid  us  mind  them,  or 
 elle  they  fay  that  they  will  be  gone  and  not  wait  upon 
 our  leifure.  Is  there  any  reafon  now  to  turn  thofe 
 things  away  that  will  not  come  again  ?  or  (hall  we 
 trouble  our  felves  that  we  have  not  the  difpofal  of 
 others  mens  wills,  and  cannot  make  them  come  to  us 
 only  when  we  pleafe  to  call  them  ?  why  may  we  not 
 be  contented  to  let  all  neceflary  affairs  take  as  much  of 
 our  time  as  they  ask,  feeing  God  will  have  us  foim- 
 ployed  f  Contented  I  fay,  for  I  did  never  yet  forbid 
 you  to  defire  more  time  wherein  to  recoiled  your  fclf 
 and  retire  unto  God  ;  but  would  rather  have  you  to 
 wifh  for  that,  while  you  are  forced  to  ferve  other 
 things.  He  is  not  to  be  commended  that  is  glad  of  a 
 multitude  of  bufinefles,  and  loves  ( as  we  fay )  to  have 
 his  hands  full  of  the  World  :  but  yet  he  is  no  ways 
 deferving  of  our  praife  neither,  who  when  his  Calling 
 thrufts  it  upon  him,  and  he  is  got  into  the  midft  of  ir, 
 is  ftill  bewailing  himfelf  and  troubled  at  his  portion. 
 The  true  way  to  peace  is,  to  fet  our  hands  with  all  di- 
 ligence to  the  neceflary  works  of  our  calling,  but  to 
 fet  our  hearts  upon  the  more  immediate  fervice  of  our 
 Lord.  To  do  our  bufinefs,  whatfoever  multiplicity 
 there  happen  to  be  in  it ;  but  to  long  to  do  fomething 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgriml  i ,  9 
 
 elfc,  if  that  would  permit  us.  Yctftilll  fay  we  muft 
 folong  after  the  Higher  life,  that  our  defires  do  noc 
 breed  in  us  any  difguft  or  impatience  in  the  Lower  • 
 which  will  both  make  our  bufiuefs  longer,  and  unfit  us 
 for  our  fpiritual  employments. 
 
 You  remember  I  make  no  doubt  the  ftory  of  Jacob} 
 how  much  he  was  inamoured  of  fair  Rachel  5  but  that 
 though  he  ferved  feveral  years  for  her,  yet  he  was  pat 
 off  with  the  embraces  of  Leah,  and  forced  to  endure 
 another  apprenticefhip  for  his  moft  beloved.  And  the 
 reafon  of  it  you  know  is  there  rendred,  becaufe  it  was 
 not  the  fafhion  of  that  Country  to  difpofe  of  rheYoun* 
 ger  before  the  Elder  Sifter.  I  have  fometimes  thought 
 that  this  may  not  unfitly  be  accommodated  to  repre- 
 fent  unto  us  the  eftate  and  condition  of  Pious  fouls 
 while  they  are  like  Jacob  in  this  Pilgrimage  far  from 
 their  Fathers  houfe.  They  are  extreamly  defirous  to 
 be  wholly  wedded  to  the  fair  and  amiable  life  of  Con- 
 templation, Prayer^  and  conftant  paffions  of  love  to 
 God.  This  they  court  and  woo  above  all  other  things, 
 hoping  in  a  little  time  to  obtain  their  fuit,  and  fpend 
 their  days  in  fuch  happy  enjoyments.  But  fo  it  is, 
 that  they  muft  be  employed  a  long  while  otherways, 
 before  they  can  reafonably  expect  to  arrive  at  the  fe- 
 licity of  being  wholly  fequeftred  unto  that  Life.  And 
 fuch  is  the  neceflity  of  this  World  that  when  we  ima- 
 gine we  (hall  now  be  at  perfect  leifure  for  it ;  fome- 
 thing  or  other  ftill  thrufts  us  into  a  different  way  of 
 living.  Nay  the  manner  of  this  Country  is  fuch,  that 
 we  muft  be  contented  to  ferve  firft  in  thefe  bafer  em- 
 ployments, before  we  can  be  permitted  to  come  to 
 thefe  nobler  retiremenrs.  With  this  Worldly  life  we 
 all  begin,  and  it  is  the  elder  of  the  two.    Nay,  moft  of 
 
 XX  2  US 
 
i±o  Tlje  f  arable  of  the  Vilgr'm. 
 
 us  are  forced  by  many  years  labour  in  providing  for 
 the  lower  man,  to  procure  to  our  felvcs  a  liberty  of 
 being  more  vacant  to  the  fervice  of  our  fouls.  And 
 it  is  very  well,  1  allure  you,  if  after  more  years  than 
 Jacob  ferved,  God  (hall  be  pleafed  to  blefs  us  with  fuch 
 a  proportion  of  thefe  Worldly  goods,  that  we  may  re- 
 pofe  our  felves  with  greater  quiecnefs  in  the  bofom  of 
 a  more  contemplative  life.  Then  we  may  be  allowed 
 in  compare  with  this  beautiful  Rachel,  to  hate  Leah 
 and  all  her  earthly  bufinefs :  yea  it  will  be  expected  at 
 our  hands  when  we  are  furnifhed  as  Jacob  was  with 
 flocks  and  herds,  and  can  fay,  We  have  enough ;  that 
 •we  very  much  quit  the  world  and  retreat  from  our  fecu- 
 lar  affairs,  and  betake  our  felves  more  intirely  to  the 
 higher  life.  And  this  favour  perhaps  our  Lord  may  in- 
 dulge us,  when  we  are  grown  a  little  older  and  mall  be 
 more  ripe  for  it,  but  till  that  time  let  us  be  patient  as 
 the  Patriarch  was;  and  in  hope  at  laft  to  enjoy  this 
 fweet,  this  beloved  life,  not  fuffer  the  other  to  feem  ac 
 all  a  tedious  ftate  unto  us. 
 
 This  difcourfe  did  not  a  little  gratifie  our  young 
 Traveller,  who  now  fancied  himfelf  another  Jacob ; 
 wifhing  for  nothing  fo  much  as  to  have  the  fair  Dam- 
 fel  We  fpoke  of  given  him  to  be  his  wife.  And  fo  much 
 he  had  impreffed  his  mind  with  the  Idea  of  that  more 
 excellent  convention,  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  laft 
 words  his  Friend  fpake,  and  that  he  confidered  alfo  it 
 is  wont  to  remain  like  Rachel  a  great  while,  more  bar- 
 ren than  the  other  h  he  had  fain  into  reproaches  of  this 
 Bkar-eyedkfc)  which  makes  us  fuch  ftrangers  to  Di- 
 viner obje&s ,  that  when  we  behold  them,  our  eyes 
 fmart  and  grow  fore  by  reafon  of  their  fplendor.  It  is 
 too  little  to  fay  chat  he  loved  it ;  for  he  burnt  with  de- 
 fire 
 
77;*  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ^ 
 
 fire  after  it.  When  he  was  employed  about  the  affairs 
 of  this  life,  the  time  feemed  like  the  cold  frofty  nights 
 wherein  Jacob  kept  the  flocks  of  Lab/in  in  the  field. 
 Then  were  his  Sunfhine  days,  and  his  Heart  all  in  an 
 ardour  of  Love  and  Joy,  ivhen  he  was  within  doors  fe- 
 cluded  from  the  herd  of  the  World  and  /hut  up  with 
 God  in  his  Soul.  If  there  was  any  heat  and  eagernefs 
 in  the  ditpatch  of  his  ordinary  bufinefs,  it  was  by  a  re- 
 flection from  thefe  greater  flames,  which  excited  him 
 to  purfue  than  with  the  more  agility,  that  he  might  the 
 fooner  quit  his  hands  of  it,  and  be  free  for  God. 
 
 And  thus  having  placed  his  affections,  I  need  not  tell 
 you  how  oft  he  ufed  to  fteal  a  glance  of  thofe  Heaven- 
 ly objects,  even  when  he  was  in  the  midft  of  fome  of 
 his  worldly  occafions.  This  I  always  obferved,  that 
 when  it  was  left  to  his  own  choice  what  part  he  would 
 take  to  manage :  he  would  ever  lay  hold  on  that 
 which  would  give  moft  liberty  for  his  thoughts,  to 
 withdraw  themfelves  fometimes  to  better  things.  And 
 having  good  Jacob  fo  much  in  his  mind,  he  ufed  to  fay 
 that  he  wondred  the  Sbepbeards  of  all  other  men  were 
 not  moft  envied  (whole  name  God  hath  aflumed  into 
 his  Titles)  becaufe  their  life  is  fo  like  to  His  who  rules 
 the  whole  World  and  yet  enjoys  himfelf.  For  his 
 part  as  he  patted  along  in  his  journey  and  faw  thofe 
 Swains  with  their  Sheephooks  in  their  hands,  he  could 
 not  for  his  life  but  fancy  them  to  be  Scepters,  and  the 
 men  to  be  fo  many  petty  Kings,  whofe  obedient  peo- 
 ple left  them  nothing  elfe  to  do  but  to  pleafe  them- 
 felves. O  happy  Soveraigns,  was  he  wont  fay,  who 
 have  fuch  peaceable  fubjects !  O  Princely  Souls  whofe 
 Royalty  is  attended  with  none  of  thofe  enemies  of  Li- 
 berty, which  make  the  Thrones  of  others  uneafie! 
 
 There 
 
j\i  Tlje  Parable  of  the  filgrini. 
 
 There  is  none  privy  to  what  you  do,  but  only  your 
 felves  None  of  thofe  Ceremonies  trouble  you,  which 
 incumber  all  the  aclions  of  Kings.  You  live  in  the 
 Kingdom  of  Wifdom.  Your  minds  are  free  for  the 
 nobleft  contemplations.  Your  Court  is  frequented 
 with  no  flatterers.  And  it  is  not  hard  for  you  to  know 
 thofe  that  love  your  perfons  from  thofe  that  love  your 
 fortune.  You  are  not  enforced  either  to  be  loaded  with 
 Cares,  or  elfe  with  the  reproach  of  being  negligent. 
 Your  leifure  is  far  better  than  all  the  imployments 
 which  others  feek:  It  is  better  to  want  with  you, 
 than  to  abound  with  all  the  World  befide.  Your  de 
 fcrts  arefar  in  my  efteem  before  the  Glory  of  Princely 
 Palaces.  And  there  are  no  chains  fo  well  made  or 
 fo  fairly  guildedover,  that  could  tempt  me  out  of  your 
 
 When  he  had  recovered  himfelf  out  of  chefe  plea- 
 fant  transports,  he  oftentimes  fell  into  a  very  fober 
 commendation  of  Solitude:  which  heufedtocal  the 
 Gate  that  lets  into  the  inward  World,  the  fnhn  L  Jf 
 Heaven,  and  the  Miftrefs  of  fuch  nob e  a is  X  as 
 the  Courts  of  Kings  cannot  equal.    The  nml  n?  ,aS 
 
 preffed  ;  when  obfeunng  our  felves  in  our  own  Souls 
 we  have  the  greater  light  within  j  and  comZnicatina 
 folely  with  our  Loid,  inthatoneobjedtvveen oTmoJ 
 than  all  the  World.  So  neceflary  i  is  rh?r  T  LTk 
 cannot  be  wife  that  is  not  reti/ed*  '  He  m  ft  be ^ 
 Fool  that  fliuns  his  own  company.  He  think^l  thL* 
 
 them  If  the  Worldhad  not  loft  their  wits  they  wodd 
 not  thus  flight  and  pafs  by  their  own  fools  Kr 
 rafte  were  nocfpoiled,   they  would  find  more  Ddio 
 
The  farable  of  the  filgrim.  .Jt 
 
 as  well  as  more  profit  at  home,  than  can  be  enjdyed 
 abroad.  Though  peace  and  innocence  make  no  great 
 noife,  yet  their  undifturbed  pleafures  yield  the  higheft: 
 contentment.  Their  pleafures  are  fuch  that  it  is  hard 
 for  great  perfons  and  thofe  who  are  much  in  the  World 
 to  take  their  {hare  in  them .  And  as  for  all  others,  fincc 
 we  muft  divide  them  with  thofe  men  whom  by  no 
 means  we  would  be  like,  they  cannot  import  very  much 
 to  our  fatisfa&ion. 
 
 A  great  number  of  other_  things  he  heaped  up  in 
 praife  of  this  private  life,  tilf  at  laft  he  endeavoured  to 
 derive  honour  upon  it  from  the  example  of  our  Lord 
 who  he  thought  was  much  delighted  in  it.  For  he 
 obferved  that  it  was  thirty  years  before  he  would  fre-, 
 quentthe  Worlds  and  that  after  he  did  appear,  he 
 was  wont  very  often  to  retire  himfelf  even  from  the 
 company  of  his  own  family.  And  I  think  he  had  ad- 
 ded a  great  deal  more  in  this  Argument,  had  not  his 
 Companion  here  interpofed  this  fudden  queftion. 
 What  then  f  are  you  fo  affeded  to  this  life  as  to  wifh 
 you  may  be  left  alone  ?  You  mean  belike  to  quit  me  too; 
 and  turn  an  Hermite  to  enjoy  your  felf  the  better , 
 when  no  body  mares  in  your  afie&ions.  By  no  means, 
 replyed  the  Pilgrim  ashaftily :  for  thoughhe  is  never 
 alone  who  is  accompanied  with  noble  thoughts ;  yet 
 I  mould  think  my  felf  too  much  alone  without  your 
 company.  This  Solitude  doth  not  exclude  our  Friends, 
 but  rather  make  room  for  them.  We  cannot  enjoy 
 whom  we  would,  unlefs  we  retire  and  feparate  our 
 felves  from  the  multitude.  There  we  may  pick  and 
 chufe,  but  in  the  crowd  men  will  thruft  themfelves  up- 
 on us.  And  therefore  I  would  be  alone  that  1  may 
 have  more  of  you.    I  would  go  afide  from  the  World, 
 
 thac 
 
*  4  4  ^*  $Md>U  of  the  filgriml 
 
 that  I  may  not  be  drawn  fo  much  from  you.     And  in- 
 deed whatsoever  profit  or  pleafure  there  is  that  I  fancy 
 in  this  private  life,   they  muft  needs  be  multiplyed 
 by  the  company  of  a  friend  5  to  whom  I  may  impart  the. 
 benefits  that  I  receive.     The  mod  plentiful  feaft  with- 
 out a  companion,  is  the  life  of  a  Lion  or  of  a  Wolf. 
 Let  my  fulnefs  ba  never  fo  great,  I  fhall  fuffer  hunger, 
 as  long  as  I  want  one  of  your  goodnefs  to  tafte  my  hap-, 
 pinefs  with  me.     We  were  taught,   I  remember,  at 
 School,  that  Reft  in  ancient  times  was  ftiled,  the  Food 
 of  the  Gods ,  and  therefore  I  have  fince  thought  that  a 
 f etreat  from  bufinefs  cannot  but  be  very  necefTary  for 
 man.    But  as  their  leifure  was  thought  tobefweetefl 
 when  they  enjoyed  it  together :  fo  I  conceive  will  my 
 Solitude  be,  if  you  think  good  alfo  to  live  alone  with 
 me.    I  do  not  fancy  there  are  any  Anchorets  in  the 
 other  World.    There  are  no  Defarts  in  thofe  fpati- 
 ous  Plains  which  we  fee  above.    The  Heavenly  Na- 
 tures love  Society  ;  and  therefore  I  will  not  labour  to 
 be  unlike  them.     And  indeed,  if  I  were  perfectly  fhuc 
 up  in  my  own  foul,  I  could  not  make  it  fuch  an  Hermi- 
 tage ,   but  that  the  image  of  you  would  ilill  dwell 
 with  me. 
 
 Well,  faid  the  Father,  I  am  very  much  beholden  to 
 you,  that  you  would  make  me  the  Companion  of  your 
 moft  fecret  pleafures :  and  it  lays  a  great  obligation 
 on  me  to  be  good,  if  it  were  but  for  this  only  ;  thac 
 there  may  be  no  Image  imprinted  on  fuch  a  foul  as 
 yours,  but  what  is  fair  and  lovely.  It  muft  be  confef- 
 fed  alfo,  that  there  is  very  great  ufe  of  Solitarinefs, 
 efpecially  in  the  beginnings  of  a  New  Life.  Then  if 
 one  fhould  ask  me,  What  fhall  I  fly  ?  I  would  anfwer, 
 as  one  ofthePhilofophers  did,  Fly  the  multitude.    For 
 
 while 
 
The  far  able  of  the  (Pilgrim.  345 
 
 while  a  man  is  weak  in  Vertue,  he  is  like  to  one  that 
 hath  been  long  fick  ;  if  you  ftir  him  from  the  place 
 where  he  is,  he  grows  worfe.  Such  a  man  can  fcarce 
 return  back  from  the  world  with  the  manners  he  car- 
 ryed  out  with  him.  Something  that  he  had  compofed, 
 is  put  into  diforder  :  Some  evil  that  he  had  chafed 
 away,  comes  back  to  him  unawares  :  fome  good  refo- 
 lution  which  he  had  formed,  is  loft  in  a  great  croud  of 
 temptations:  and'thebadcuftomes  which  he  had  flu- 
 ken  off,  will  endeavour  again  to  renew  their  acquain- 
 tance. All  places  being  full  of  ill  examples,  there  is 
 the  greater  danger  of  infection.  There  is  none  but 
 either  commends  a  vice,  or  imprelTes  it  on  us,  or  fecrex- 
 ly  rubs  us  with  it.  And  it  is  very  hard  to-beat  off  the 
 aifaulcs  of  enemies,  when  they  come  in  fo  great  troops 
 upon  us.  It  is  good  counfel  therefore  at  fuch  a  time  : 
 Retire  into  your  [elf.  Shut  up  your  foul  within  doojs, 
 and  let  it  not  ftir  abroad.  And  truly  he  hath  very 
 honourable  thoughts  of  u>,  Vvho  thinks  us  fit  to  bear 
 our  felves  company.  He  repofes  a  great  confidence 
 in  us  who  dares  truft  us  to  our  felves.  For  there  is  no 
 worfe  fociety  for  a  man  than  his  own,  if  he  do  not  de- 
 fign  to  become  good.  Fools  and  mad  men  ought  not 
 to  be  left  in  their  own  hands.  For  as  the  wife  employ 
 their  Solitude  in  pious  counfels,  and  lober  advices  for 
 the  good  government  of  themfelves  :  fo  the  wicked 
 then  meditate  bad  defigns,  and  plot  the  fulfilling  of 
 naughty  defTres.  They  whet  their  anger,  or  irritate 
 their  luft,  or  brazen  their  foreheads  to  commit  all  vil- 
 lany  :  and  what  fear  and  fhame  concealed  from  the 
 world,  they  bring  forth  then  hefore  themfelves,  and 
 prepare  it  to  come  abroad.  See  then  what  a  good 
 opinion  1  have  conceived  of  you,  in  that  Ibid  you  not 
 to  fly  yourfelf.  Imuft  needs  take  you  for  a  man  of 
 Y  y  worthy 
 
346  ^"k  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 worthy  thoughts,  orelfc  I  fhould  not  permit  you  to 
 be  alone.  And  let  me  tell  you,  that  I  promife  my  felf 
 you  will  improve  your  own  company  fo  well,  as  to  be 
 worthy  at  lafttobe  truftedin  the  open  World.  When 
 your  mind  is  well  fortified,  and  your  refolution  con- 
 firmed .  the  World  will  need  fuch  a  good  example,  to 
 reform  the  evil  wherewith  it  abounds.  We  are  not 
 be  rn  for  our  felves  alone  ;  but  others  muft  feel  there  is 
 a  good  man  ftill  remaining  among  them.  It  is  fit  in- 
 deed that  at  certain  times  you  fliould  all  your  life  fe- 
 quefter  your  felf  from  men  5  fo  it  be  without  affectati- 
 on of  Angularity,  or  making  any  noife :  but  there  ycu 
 mud  not  bury  your  felf,  nor  make  your  Clofet  a 
 Tomb,  wherein  to  converfe  with  no  body  but  the  dead. 
 Your  Light  muftfo  mine  before  men,  that  feeing  your 
 good  works,  they  may  glorifie  your  Father  which  is 
 in  Heaven.  And  you  mud  fhew  forth  the  praifes  of 
 him,  who  hath  called  you  out  of  darknefsinto  his  mar- 
 vellous Light.  But  having  given  you  an  example  of 
 both  thefe  in  the  Blefled  Jefus^  I  will  not  fufpeft  your 
 memory  of  fo  much  unfaithfulnefs,  as  to  think  you 
 ftand  in  need  to  have  thofe  inftru&ions  repeated.  I 
 will  rather  pray  you  to  let  me  know  how  you  find 
 your  felf  in  thofe  retirements,  and  whether  you  meet 
 with  fo  great  fatisfa&ion  in  them  as  now  you  expect 
 to  reap. 
 
 And  truly  afterward  he  confefled,  that  making  his 
 retreat  very  frequently  into  this  Soveraign  Privacy, 
 he  could  not  alway  be  Matter  of  thofe  brave  thoughts 
 which  he  imagined  he  mould  have  enjoyed.  That  life 
 he  faw  had  its  imperfections  ;  and  he  lookc  to  enjoy 
 there  thofe  delightful  fpe&ades,  which  too  often  with- 
 drew themfelves  from  his  fight,  and  could  not  be  wooed 
 
TJ?e  far  able  of '/the  filgrim.  347. 
 
 to  favour  him  with  their  continual  prefence.  He 
 found  that  we  do  not  yet  live  in  the  Countrey  of  Idea's 
 and  the  Land  of  perfections  :  but  that  we  dwell  in 
 lower  Regions,  and  are  forced  to  travel  among  Chi- 
 mera's, and  fight  many  times  with  monftrous  Ima- 
 ginations, At  the  beft  we  do  but  fee  the  fhadows  of 
 things ;  or  if  we  gain  a  true  Image  of  them,  yet  we 
 muft  be  content  to  lit  down  a  great  way  on  this  fide  of 
 that  excellent  life,  the  Image  of  which  we  have  con- 
 ceived in  our  mind.  The  Pattern  is  too  big  for  us 
 while  we  are  fhut  up  inthefe  Prifons.  And  to  be  fo 
 free  in  our  thoughts  and  affections  •  it  is  neceflary  that 
 we  obtain  a  releafe  from  thefe  bodies.  Only  thus  much 
 benefit  he  reaped  from  this  dear  Solitude  wherein  he 
 fometimes  reigned  5  that  he  was  verily  perfwaded  he 
 fhould  one  day  arrive  at  the  Freedom  and  Peace  of 
 Jerufalem.  He  could  not  think  that  his  Soul  mould 
 alwayes  dwell  fo  farihort  of  that  happy  Countrey,  of 
 which  he  had  fuch  a  lovely  Picture  in  his  mind.  It 
 feemed  unreafonable  to  imagine,  that  when  all  other 
 things  are  fullered  to  grow  to  their  height  andutmoft 
 perfections^  thefpiritof  man  only  mould  ever  remain 
 a  dwarf,  or  rather  continue  a  child,  and  never  be  un- 
 loofed  from  its  fwadling-bands.  No,  no  ;  would  he 
 frequently  fay,  I  feel  my  Soul  untying  thefe  Bands.  It 
 grows  too  great  for  thefe  cloaths,  and  cannot  fuffer 
 it  felf  to  be  thus  confined.  It  afpires  to  that  happy 
 State  which  admits  of  no  defects,  and  will  make  me 
 call  my  felf  a  Man.  Itlongs  and  groans  to  be  above 
 it  felf.  It  ftretches  its  hands  to  reach  the  Perfection 
 of  Purity,  and  to  lay  hold  on  Eternal  Life.  It  would 
 fain  remove  from  thefe  fhadows,  and  hopes  to  converfe 
 with  the  very  things  themfelves.  O  how  it  fighs.  to 
 do  what  it  now  defigns  !  How  it  breathes  after  the  en- 
 Yy  2  joyment 
 
^8  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 joymentof  that  which  it  hath  in  defire!  The  day  will 
 come  Cure  that  (hall  caft  no  cloud  about  my  mind,  nor 
 ftir  the  kaft  breath  of  inordinate  paffion  in  my  foul.  It 
 will  not  be  long  before  I  be  alwayes  ferene,  and  have 
 thehappincfstoliveiq  aconftant  tranquillity  and  un- 
 troubled repofe.  The  time  I  believe  haftens  when  my 
 knowledge  (hall  be  fo  clear,  that  Faith  ihall  find  no 
 employment,  and  hope  (hall  receive  a  difcharge  ;  and 
 Charity  (hall  be  left  alone  in  its  full  ftrength. 
 
 With  thefe  and  other  fuch  like  pleafant  thoughts 
 they  entertained  themfelves  as  they  travelled  over  ma- 
 ny fair  Plains ;  deceiving  the  length  of  the  Miles  by 
 the  variety  of  Difcourfe,  and  the  prettinefs  of  fundry 
 contemplations.  For  the  truth  is,  His  Good  Angel  (as 
 I  may  call  him  )  never  fail'd  to  put  him  in  mind  of  fuch 
 things  as  might  be  worthy  of  obfervation  in  their 
 Journey,  or  might  adminiftcr  a  profitable  or  innocent 
 delight  to  fweeten  their  way.  And  among  other 
 things  I  remember  that  one  day  as  they  went  through 
 a  certain  place,  which  was  more  like  a  Garden  than 
 an  High  way,  He  askt  him  if  he  was  not  afraid  of 
 thofe  ftrange  Beafts  in  green  skins,  and  thofe  armed 
 men  with  weapons  of  the  fame  colour  in  their  hands. 
 At  which  he  fmiling  faid  ;  though  you  have  been 
 confeious  too  much  of  my  weaknefs,  yet  I  have  fo  much 
 courage,  as  not  to  be  affrighted  at  the  Images  of  things 
 which  I  fee  cut  in  hedges.  You  (hall  fee  how  confi- 
 dently I  will  walk  naked  by  that  Lyon,  and  that  the 
 Bear  in  the  other  thicket  ihall  ftrike  no  terrour  into 
 me.  And  it  pleafes  me  very  much  to  think  that  the 
 trouble  which  my  often-infirmities  have  given  you  is 
 not  fo  great,  but  that  you  can  make  your  felf  merry 
 with  them  :  and  I  am  willing  to  recreate  you  a  little 
 
 more 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  349 
 
 more  by  bragging  thus  of  my  prefent  boldnefs.  Indeed, 
 faid  the  Father,  you  could  not  have  well  gratified  me 
 more  than  you  do,  in  (porting  with  that  which  others 
 more  morofe  would  have  taken  for  a  reproach.  Buc 
 let  us  ferioufly  I  pray  you  confider  ;  Is  there  much 
 more  harm  in  many  of  thofe  things  at  which  the  world 
 is  wont  to  tremble?  Do  they  not  fly  from  terrible  no- 
 things, wherewith  they  feethewayes  of  Piety  are  be- 
 fet?  The  reproaches  which  tear  our  names  in  pieces 
 like  a  Lyon  j  the  bitter  words  which  mens  tongues 
 moot  like  arrows  in  our  faces ;  nay  that  great  Bear, 
 Poverty  which  turns  fo  many  out  of  the  way  ;  What 
 are  they  i  If  you  view  them  and  all  their  fellows 
 well,  you  will  find  they  are  as  innocent,  nay  as  profi- 
 table too  as  thoie  peaceable  creatures  which  you  here 
 behold.  They  are  but  like  thofe  Bows  which  are 
 made  of  Bayes,  and  can  do  no  hurt.  Or  like  thofe  Guns 
 which  you  fee  wrought  in  Rofemary  and  Sweet- Brier, 
 and  fuch  like  things,  which  moot  flowers,  and  dart 
 forth  Musk.  Or  like  thofe  Beafls  of  Hyfop  and  Thyme 
 which  are  very  Medicinal  to  thofe  who  know  how  to 
 ufe  them. 
 
 From  hence  he  fell  into  a  very  grave  advice  (  which, 
 he  faid  could  not  be  too  often  repeated  )  that  he  fhould 
 not  fail  to  give  God  thanks  for  thofe  things  which 
 went  crofs  unto  him,  as  much  as  he  was  wont  to  do  for 
 thofe  which  were  moft  conformable  to  his  defires.  He 
 fhew'd  him  how  we  ftand  indebted  to  Divine  Provi- 
 dence not  only  for  our  Food,  but  for  our  Phyfick  alfo. 
 He  made  him  underftand  how  the  contempt  we  meet 
 with  from  men,  doth  purge  out  Pride  ;  how  Poverty 
 cures  our  Luxury  and  wanton  defires  ;  and  how  no- 
 ihing  is  fo  powerful  as  Sicknefs  to  deliver  us  from  the 
 
 great 
 
4fe  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 ■  great  evil  of  Ingratitude:  it  being  feidom  known  that 
 men  confider  the  vaft  benefits  of  health  till  they  be 
 without  it.  In  fhort,  he  convinced  him  plainly  that  a 
 great  fulnefs  of  all  things,  is  very  apt  to  choak  the  fenfe 
 of  God.  That  when  men  are  in  conftant  profperity, 
 as  they  want  not  abilities  and  internments  to  fin,  fo  they 
 want  the  ftrong  reftraints  of  fear,  of  modefty,  and 
 of  good  ccunfel  to  keep  them  from  it.  And  though, 
 faid  he,  if  they  wanted  the  laft  only,  their  condition 
 would  be  fad  enough  ;  yet  it  is  feidom  known  that 
 they  have  the  benefit  of  it,  becaufe  there  is  either  none 
 to  give  it,  or  they  are  not  apt  to  receive  it.  But  adver- 
 ficy  will  flatter  no  man,  it  felf  fupplying  the  place  of 
 an  hundred  Monitors ;  and  being  the  only  fober  and 
 trufty  Counfellour,  which  great  men  have  in  their  re- 
 tinue. And  if  there  were  no  other  advantage  that  it 
 brings,  we  fhould  have  great  reafon  to  thank  God, 
 that  he  would  not  let  us  dye  without  the  company  of 
 a  faithful  friend. 
 
 chap,  xxx.; 
 
 How  the  Pilgrim  grew  very  duH  and  lazy.  By  what 
 means  he  was  quickned  to  greater  diligence.  How  the 
 Guide  awakened  fome  Jluggifh  Pilgrims  which  they 
 met  withal :  moving  them  to  a  great  care  of  their 
 Souls  ;  and  to  prove  their  Sincerity  in  Religion^  by 
 their  being  zealous  of  good  works, 
 
 BUT  as  I  may  not  be  permitted  to  relate  all  the  de- 
 lightful difcourfe  of  this  nature  which  pafTed  be- 
 tween them  in  their  travels  5  fo  you  muft  not  think 
 that  our  Pilgrim  had  now  left  all  trouble  behind  him, 
 
 never 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  *ji 
 
 never  to  overtake  him  more.  For  having  thus  fpent 
 his  time  for  fome  weeks,  he  felt  himfelf  exceeding 
 dull  ;  and  through  fome  indifpofition  ( the  caufe  of 
 which  he  could  not  difcover)  he  began  to  be  fo  lazy  and 
 liftlefs  to  any  good  acYton,  which  had  formerly  been 
 his  delight  ^  that  it  endangered  to  overwhelm  him  in 
 a  new  affliction  of  mind.  But  yet  it  pleafed  God  fo  to 
 order  it,  that  this  cloud  was  caft  about  him  without 
 any  fhowre ;  and  he  cured  himfelf  of  his  reftivenefs  of 
 fpiritby  fome  common  obfervations  which  he  made  as 
 he  went  along.  For  they  had  not  travelled  far,  before 
 they  found  a  great  number  of  men  digging  in  a  Mine, 
 who  were  all  bath'd  in  their  own  Sweat  5  andinftead 
 of  the  frefh  air  to  cool  them,  were  in  perpetual  danger 
 of  Suffocation  by  infernal  vapours.  And  being  askt, 
 For  what  they  took  fuch  exceflive  pains,  they  gave 
 them  to  understand  that  the  bed  of  their  wages  was 
 very  fmall3and  that  fome  were  fuch  (laves  as  laboured 
 meerly  for  courfe  food  h  not  fo  much  as  a  grain  of  all 
 the  Silver  Ore  which  they  raked  out  of  the  earths  bow- 
 els, coming  into  their  poffeflion.  At  the  fight  of  which 
 he  was  ftrangely  awakened,  and  falling  into  a  mighty 
 piflion  began  to  reproach  himfelf,  to  accufe  his  great 
 folly,  and  to  condemn  his  (loth  ;  who  was  lefs  con- 
 cerned for  a  Soul,  than  thefe  men  for  a  belly-full  of 
 meat,  or  a  few  fingle- pennies.  What  do  we,  O  my 
 Soul  i  Cfaid  the  good  Pilgrim,)  W  hy  do  we  lye  ftill,  and 
 fuffer  our  felves  to  perifti  i  Are  there  any  pains  like 
 thofe  to  which  thefe  wretches  are  condemn  d  t  Or  are 
 there  any  treafures  that  can  equal  thofe  which  we  are 
 feeking  after  i  O  how  difproportionable  are  their  la- 
 bours unto  their  gains  1  And  how  much  will  our  gains 
 exceed  the  greateft  of  our  pains!  Blufh,  O  my  Soul,  at 
 thy  own  neglects ;  and  be  aftonifhed  either  at  their 
 
 diligence 
 
Iji  The  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 diligence,  or  thy  own  (loth.  Or  rather,  let  the  ftrange- 
 nefs  of  the  one,  make  thee  marvel  at  the  other.  And 
 for  very  mame,  let  it  rouze  thee  to  do  that  for  thy  felf 
 which  they  do  for  their  bodies ;  or  to  be  but  at  half 
 the  labour  to  attain  eternal  Treafures,  which  they 
 take,  not  for  perifhing  Riches,  but  for  a  morfel  of  meat, 
 which  only  prepares  them  to  renew  their  labours.  In 
 fuch  Meditations  as  thefe,  he  fpent  fome  time  to 
 the  no  fmall  quickning  of  his  Soul  in  well  doing. 
 Which  were  alfo  happily  revived  the  next  day  by  the 
 fight  of  fome  (hips,  w"hich  from  a  mountain  that  they 
 pafled  over,  heefpyed  riding  on  the  Sea:  whofe  waves 
 did  then  fo  work  and  boil  that  the  face  of  it  was  all 
 yefty,  and  it  foam'd  with  rage  at  the  winds  which  fpent 
 their  fury  upon  it.  From  hence  he  took  occafion  to 
 confider'the  hazzard  which  they  run,  who  trufted 
 themfelves  to  that  treacherous  Element :  how  they 
 were  carryed  fometimes  to  unfeen  regions,  of  which 
 they  had  no  knowledge  but  by  the  uncertain  reports 
 of  others.  How  uncertain  their  Returns  were  ;  and 
 how  the  poor  Marriners  had  no  intereft  at  all  in  the 
 goods  which  they  ventured  their  lives  to  bring  home 
 to  other  Owners.  This  infpir'd  his  Soul  and  fwell'd 
 it  with  new  refolutions,  more  than  a  ftrong  gale  of 
 wind  doth  the  fails  of  a  (hip  when  (he  runs  before  it. 
 He  defpifed  all  dangers.  He  defied  the  lazydifpofi- 
 tion  vvherein  he  lately  found  himfelf.  He  applauded 
 the  reafonablenefs  of  Chriftian  Piety  which  was  car- 
 ried by  Faith  to  unknown  Countreys.  And  he  vowed 
 never  to  quit  the  defign  wherein  he  was  embarqued ; 
 Efpecially  fince  he  had  fo  good  ailurance  at  laft  to 
 come  to  an  happy  Port.  From  whence  he  alfo  knew 
 that  he  mould  never  lcofe  any  more,  to  be  thus  tolled  in 
 doubts  and  fears  5  to  be  expdfed  to  the  dorms  of  an 
 
 angry 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  j$j 
 
 angry  World,  and  £  which  was  moft  troublefome  )  to 
 conflict  with  the  great  uncertainties  of  his  own  tem- 
 per, whereby  he  was  fometimes  lifted  up  as  high  as 
 Heaven,  and  then  again  deprcHed  as  low  as  Hell. 
 
 And  truly  after  this  I  heard  that  he  continued  very 
 fervent  in  Spirit,  ferving  the  Lord.  Infomuch  thac 
 meeting  a  good  while  after  with  fome  Pilgrims  who 
 were  remifs  and  negligent,  a  great  zeal  was  kindled  in 
 him3  and  he  called  upon  his  Guide  very  earneftly  to  ufe 
 his  fpurs  and  prick  them  up  to  a  greater  diligence. 
 Which  motion  you  will  eafily  think  the  Good  Father 
 was  not  backward  to  embrace ;  but  drawing  a,  little 
 nearer  to  them  and  well  obferving  their  carelefs  po- 
 rt ures,  he  askt  them  what  the  realon  might  be  of  thac 
 lazy  and  wretchlefs  life  which  men  of  their  profeflion 
 led.  Are  you  not  convinced,  faid  he,  of  the  truth  of 
 that  Religion  which  is  taught  by  Chrifl; '.  Do  you  take 
 Jefus  for  an  impoftor,  and  think  that  he  lyes  in  his 
 grave  and  never  (hall  come  to  Judge  the  World  by 
 his  Liws  ?  Or  do  you  think  that  he  hath  commanded 
 impoflible  things,  and  made  a  Law  which  cannot  be 
 put  in  ufe  and  practice  *  How  then  mail  he  judge  the 
 World  in  Righteoufnefs  i  Or  how  came  it  to  pafs  that 
 you  undertook  his  fervice,  if  you  thought  that  none 
 can  come  in  his  ways  to  the  happinefs  of  Jertsfalem  i 
 For  my  part  I  can  fee  nothing  that  fliould  make  it  feem 
 impoflible  to  be  fo  good  as  Chrift  hath  required,  but 
 only  the  lives  of  a  number  of  fuch  wretches  as  your 
 fclves.  And  left  I  fliould  feem  to  reproach  you,  or 
 my  words  fliould  not  meet  with  due  regard  from  you  ; 
 hearken  I  beieech  you  to  the  language  of  one,  who  in- 
 deed commands  your  intention,  if  it  be  but  for  the  re- 
 verence which  you  bear  to  his  years,  and  the  place 
 Z  z  which 
 
3*4 
 
 The  far  able  of  the  filgrint. 
 which  he  held  in  the  Church  of  God.    It  is  the  famous 
 Patriarch  of  Conftantinople  which  I  mean,   who  thus 
 awakens  fome  luch  drouiie  foul?  as  yours.     Suppose  a 
 Gent  iky  faith  he,  fheuld  come  to  thee,  and  fay,  Ifthm 
 look  eft  for  a  Kingdom  in  Heaven,  why  doft  thou  mind 
 this  world  jo  much  <   St4re  thou  doft  but  talk  •    they  are 
 but  words  which  thou  telle  ft  to  u>s.     if  thou  expefteft  the 
 dreadful  tribunal  of  ch rift  hereafter,  why  doft  thou  not 
 defpife  the  moft  terrible  things  that  threaten  thee  in  this 
 life?  J f  thou  e xpeffeft  immortality ,why  do  we  not  fee  th.  e 
 laugh  at  death  ?    wha  t  anfwer  now  wilt  thou  uturn  to 
 this  Objeclo  r  I  what  wilt  thou  fay  for  thy  [elf  who  t  rem- 
 bleft  at  the  lofs  of  a  little  Riches  for  the  Kingdom  of  He  a- 
 vensjake,  andrejoyceft  at  the  gain  of  a  farthing  as  if  it 
 were  a  great  prize  i  This  is  that  which  fcandalizcs  the 
 Gentiles ,_  and  makes  them  mock  both  at  thee  and  thy  Re- 
 ligion too.     Do  not  therefore  ftudy  fo  much  to  apologize 
 for  it  by  thy  Words,  as  by  thy  Deeds.     Let  him  fee  fuck  a, 
 one  a4  chrift  defcribes,  not  only  in  thy  Books  but  in  tly 
 (elf. Make  it  manifeft  to  him  that  there  is  fucb  a  Religion 
 in  being,  alive  in  the  World  ;  and  that  it  lyes  not  dead  in 
 Parchment.    Suffer  it  not  to  be  the  work  of  the  Scribe ,  or 
 {as  we  nowfpeak)  of  the  Printer  only,  but  let  him  read  it 
 in  thy  life.  Make  him  confefs  that  the  Go  [pel  commands 
 things  that  may  be  done,  and  doth  not  draw  a  Ph.tonicd 
 Common  wealth,  or  defcribe  (as  we  far  in  thefe  days )  an 
 Eutopian  Polity.  Suppofe  again,  that  a  Gentile  fjjould fay 
 to  thee,  Good  Sir,  how  fb  all  I  k  novo  that  y  ur  God  requires; 
 poffible  things  f    They  look  like  things  which  an  not  be 
 donesand  I  never  faw  any  Cbriftianjuc'j  a  mm.  Behold, 
 th  u  waft  brought  up  in  thy  Religion  from  thy  ch/. 
 andyet  doft  no  fuch  things;  with  what  face  then  doft  thou 
 require  them  of  me  who  have  been  long  accuftomed 
 other  ways  i    what  wilt  tbcu  n  w  reply  in  the  behalf  of 
 Chriftianity  ? 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim'.  , , 
 
 Chriflianity  ?  Perhaps  thou  wilt point  him  to  others ,  and 
 dcfire  htm  not  to  look  on  thy  ft  If.  Thou  wilt  bid  him  cajl 
 hi*  eyes  upon  the  Monks  and  thofe  that  live  in  wilder- 
 ne[jes,  where  he  may  behold  what  holy  lives  they  lead.  O 
 mift  [bamffnl  Apology  \  For  he  will  jay  •  what  thtn,mufl 
 I  turn  a  Monk  ?  Mujl  I  live  in  Mountains  and  dwell  in 
 the  Defarts  ?  Mujl  /for fake  all  company  but  only  th.it  of 
 the  Beajls  ?  This  is  a  ft  range  Religion  of  which  a  man 
 cannot  bejinlcfs  he  leave  the  Society  of  men.  A  Religion, 
 that  cannot  dwell  in  Towns  and  C  it  its.  A  Religion  that 
 Ryes  the  light >andfeeks  for  Dens  and  Caves  of  the  Earth. 
 That  is  an  enemy  to  the  befl  ofpleafures  ;  that  banijhes 
 good  neighbourhood,  and  renders  a  man  an  hater  of  the 
 rejl  of  Mankind.  I  will  none  of  this  Religion  :  keep 
 it  to  your  [elf,  and  do  not  invite  me  to  your  melancholy 
 Piety. 
 
 Thu  truly  is  a  very  great  di [grace  to  the  chriflianpro' 
 feffion,  to  make  as  though  it  could  not  inhabit  any  place 
 and  be  perform  d  by  any  men.  There  is  no  excufe  to  be 
 made  for  it.  if  it  cannot  flay  with  us  in  Towns  and  keep, 
 us  company  in  buftnefs,  and  be  the  employment  of  common 
 men,  away  with  it  5  it  is  not  for  our  turn  5  let  it  be  ba- 
 nijhed  the  world.  Shew  to  me  a  man  that  hath  a  wife 
 and  children,and[ervantsyandyet  is  a  Chriftian.Let  me 
 fee  a  man  that  keeps  his  [bop  and  buys  and  [ells,  and  yet 
 lives  well  and  keeps  the  Laws  of  chrift.  Doth  not  our 
 Saviour  [ay, La  your  lights  (hine  before  men.?  but  where 
 do  we  read  that  it  is  to  illuftrate  Defarts,  and  make  the 
 Moun  tains  glorious  ?  jvhich  is  not  [poken  (faith  he  )  $9 
 reproach  thofe  per fons  whochoofe  to  dwell  in  fuch  places  ; 
 but  only  to  bemoan  our  Cities  that  have  driven  Vertue 
 from  among  them^andthrufi  it  out  of  their  gates  into  the 
 rfildernefs.  Let  us  indeavour  I  be  fetch  you  to  call  it  back 
 Zn  Again. 
 
3$  iS  TJ;e  farabk  of  the  Pilgrim". 
 
 again.  Let  us  bring  it  to  dwell  within  the  Walls  of  Ci- 
 ttes  as  well  as  thofe  of  Monafleries.  Let  us  reduce  it  in- 
 to wr  Families,  and  cur  Shops,  and  our  Market  j,  nay\ 
 into  our  Taverns  and  Victualling  houses..  Let  us  render 
 it  foci able  and  fit  for  Converfation,that.  all  men  may  be 
 the  better  for  it.  Suffer  noplace  to  be  void. of  Religion ; 
 but  make  it  extend  it  [elf  like  theDi  vine  Pre fenc^which 
 u  ready  to  afjifl men  every where.  Do  not  fay. any  longer 
 that  yo  nc  an  not  be  good.  He  never  took  the  bufinefs  feri- 
 oufly  into  his  thoughts  ;  he  never  gave  all  diligence ,  who 
 [peaks  that  wicked  word.  And  do  not  fay. to  me  neither 
 thit you  cannot  underjland  the  Religion  of  chrijl,  and- 
 know  not  what  to  do. .  For  fee  how  skilful  the  mofl  fimple 
 people  are  in  their  worldly  affairs  ;  fee  what  exact nefs 
 they  ufe  ;how  accurate  and  circumfped. they  are  wont  to. 
 be  in  fome  of  their  outward  concerns.  Let  them  employ 
 the  fame  in  spiritual  things,  and  fie  warrant  they  (halt 
 mtbeoverlookt  by  the  Divine  graces  nor  mifs  of  being 
 wife  to  Salvation.  The  Sun  fhines  not  fo  clear  as  the 
 Truth  of  God.  where  men  have  a  mind  they  may  eafrly 
 come  to  the  knowledge  of  him.  if  they  would  but  attend 
 and  not  make  a  By-word  of  it,  they  would  neither  be  fo  ig- 
 norant ^nor  fo  impotent  as  they  are.  For  the  G^fpel  wm 
 notfhut  up  inl?3L}xftine,nor  confined  to  fome  corner  of  the 
 World,  but  all  fhall  know,  me  (  faith  the  Lord)  from 
 the  greateft  to  the  leaft  ;  and  every  place  may  become  an 
 Holy  Land. But  will  you  extend  this  thing^may  fome  fay, 
 to  the  Barbarous  Nations,  and  the  mflick, under  fund- 
 ings i  Tes  that  J  willy  and  if  there  can  be  any  ft  ill  more 
 Barbarous  than  thofe  that  we  yet  know,  I  affirm  that 
 they  may  have  the  benefit  of  it.  For  tell  me  prayyou/tnee 
 fine  of  thofe  men  can  in  things  belonging  to  this  prefent 
 life  argue  for  himfelf  if  he  be  wronged,  refifl  when  he 
 /suffers  violence,   and  do  all  things  not  to  be  endamaged 
 
 in. 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim .  357 
 
 in  the  Icafi  •    why  may  be  net  ufe  the  fame  uaderfland- 
 mg  in  Utter  matters  f    when  he  t$  to  worjb;p  aftone,  to 
 cbjerve  the  numerous  ceremonies  of  a  foolish  Feafl ;    to 
 do  reverence  to  a  falfe  God,  he  canjhewwit  enough; 
 ajt d  therefore  why  do  you  tell  me  that  he  ts  fimple  And 
 filly  and  cApable  of  Nothing  when  I  would  have  himfeek 
 after  the  IVill  of  the  true  God?  Fie  upon  you  !  /  wonder 
 you  have  the  face  to  [peak  thefe  things.    There  is  no  fuch 
 matter  :  It  cannot  he  as  you  fay.   Let  me  never  hear  you 
 talk  thus  vainly  any  more,  nor  excufe  your  [elves  and 
 ethers  in  thisfafbion.     Their  fim  .ilenefs  is  not  in  fault, 
 but  their  Idlenefs  and  floth  ought  to  bear  the  blame. 
 For  J  pray  you  once  mere  cenfider ,   who  were  mere 
 Ruftick,  plain  and  fimple ;    thofe  that  lived  in  Abra- 
 hams time,  or  the  men  of  our  days  ?  It  is  plain  that  they. 
 And  when  was  it  eafuer  to  be  godly  ;  then0  or  now  ?    It 
 is  manfefl  that  now.     For  now  God  is  more  clearly  re- 
 vealed :  now  the  Gofpel  is  preached ;  now  we  are  taught 
 by  the  Son  of  God  himfelf;   but  then  men  learnt  as  one 
 may  fay  without  any  teacher.     There  was  an.univerfal 
 corruption  j  no  Law-giver^  no  Propheti  Cent, no  Miracles 
 wrought:  but  they  f aw  as  it  were  in  a  profound  darknefs; 
 in  a  w inter  Moonlefs  night.   J  Veil  then,  whyfbouldjt  not 
 thou  be  Religious  as  well  or  rather  more,  than  Abraham-? 
 He  was  of  that  Noble  and  generous  Spirit  which  is  ;  e- 
 corded  in  the  Holy  Books,    when  he  had  not  fo  much  as 
 that  which  we  call  the  Wifdomof  them  without,  xwL 
 there  were  no  Phdofophers  in  the  world.     Then  I  (ay  her 
 knew  God.he  wrought  righteoufnefsjje  exercifedrertue, 
 he  drew  on  others  to  be  godly.     Nay,  his  Father  :v. 
 idolater,  his  Friends  and  kindred  were  immersed  in  the 
 evil  cufioms  of  the  World,  and  yet  all  this  cmld  not 
 hinder  him  from  becoming  good,    and  obeying   the  cdl 
 tfcod.     It  cannot  then  be  impofliblc  for  t:s  r.  ':>  I'tvt.  in 
 
 the 
 
*  5  8  *fl>e  Parable  of  the  Pilgriml 
 
 the  clear  day-  light,  both  to  know^  and  do  his  voill:  But  it 
 is  mpoffible^  utterly  imfoffible  that  he  [hould  leave  them 
 wit  hut  his  Almighty  grace  ?vbo  are  vigilant  and  watch- 
 ful to  attend  to  the  illuminations  which  he  be  flows  upn 
 them.  Never  think  hereafter  to  make  Apologies  for  your 
 pelves  befo  re  God,  feeing  you  a  re  not  a  ble  toanfwer  for 
 yourfluggijhnejs  before  men.  They  condemn  you^  and  he 
 will  never  acquit yott.  It  u  vifible  you  may  be  better^ 
 and  therefore  he  voill  admit  of  nfi-excufe  for  your  conti- 
 nuing bad. 
 
 This  is  the  effect  of  r.he  Sermon  which  that  Excel- 
 let  man  made  to  Drones  and  Sluggards :   and  lee  me' 
 again  befecch  you  to  lay  his  words  to  hearr.     Do  not 
 content  your  felves  with  wiihes  and  defires :    no  nor 
 with  ardent  prayers  that  you  may  be  amended  5   bur 
 apply  your  felves  to  the  wcrk,  flir  up  the  Grace  that 
 is  in  you,    and  do  what  your  hands  find  to  do  with 
 all  your  might.     They  are  the  fouls  whofe  Prayers 
 Gcd  hears,   who  employ  their  hands  as  foon  as  they 
 have  unbent  their  knees.    The  diligent  and  the  ftir- 
 ringmenarethofe  whom  he  comes  to  aflift.     A  mart 
 may  work  wonders,  but  not  if  he  lye  in  a  Bed.     Hea- 
 ven will  pour  down  abundance  of  Grace,  but  not  if 
 we  gape  for  it  at  home,   and  will  not  go  out  of  doors 
 to  receive  it.     You  have  heard  it's  like  of  the  Tbun- 
 dring  Legion  for  whom  God  fought,  but  yet  they  did 
 not  obtain  the  Victory  with  their  arms  a  crofs:  they 
 were  fain  to  give  blows,  as  well  as  believe,    and  to 
 fecond  their  Prayers  with  their  Swords.     We  may 
 praife  the  fertile  foyl,  and  pray  for  feafonable  mowers  5 
 but  let  me  tell  you,    no  rain  fructifies  more  than  the 
 dew  of  fwear.     Though  the  Ship  waits  for  a  favoura- 
 ble ga!e,  and  cannot  ftir  without  it  >  yet  it  is  ftill  be- 
 
 calm'd 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  5  j  ^ 
 
 calm'd  without  that  breath  wherewith  they  hoife  the 
 fails,,  and  fpread  them  to  receive  it. 
 
 It  would  be  too  long  to  tell  you  what  commotions 
 the  poor  men  felt  in  their  breads  all  the  time  that  he 
 was  fpeaking  5  but  thus  much  you  may  know  that 
 ihey  began  to  be  (0  awakened,  and  (eemed  fo  much 
 afhamed,  that  he  thought  it  beft  to  ftrike  again 
 while  the  Iron  was  hot,  and  his  words  had  fuch  fair 
 hopes  to  make  a  deeper  impreflion.  To  this  difcourfe 
 therefore  he  added  another,  which  he  conceived  might 
 give  a  greater  force  unto  it ;  and  was  of  this  import. 
 But  kit,  faid  he,  you  fhou!d  imagine  this  Eminent 
 perfon  whofefenfcof  things  I  have  conveyed  to  you, 
 to  have  meafured  the  ftrength  of  other  men  by  his  own 
 great  abilities :  I  will  read  a  ledure  out  of  a  Philo- 
 sopher to  you,  who  is  able  to  fay  enough  to  make  you 
 fhakeoffyourfbth,  and  cannot  be  fulpecled  of  more 
 knowledge,  than  may  be  the  portion  of  Chrifts  difci- 
 ples.  And  I  perfwade  my  felf  that  you  cannot  for  fhame 
 defpife  his  words,  left  he  having  nobler  thoughts  than 
 your  felveslhouldferve  to  condemn  you  of  the  groffeft 
 ftupidity. 
 
 Tcu  have  all  lam  fure  a  very  jlrong  defire  of  fome-  Ar-un,  E^ 
 thing  that  U good,  and  not  contented  with  any  inferiour  lib.  -. 
 degree  $ycu  all  long  for  that  which  is  Supream,  and  hath 
 nothing  above  it.  Now  God,  faith  he,  and  (Joodncfs  are 
 [9  near  of  k^n  that  they  are convertible  ;  and  toucan^ 
 not  find  the  one  }  but  you  mufl  have  the  other  alfa. 
 wheresoever  yen  can  meet  vcith  the  Ej[en:e  of  Cod  {be 
 means  a  participation  of  him  )  there  is  the  effence  of 
 Good,  what  then  is  ths  EJfsnce  of  God,  where  (ball  xve 
 find  hi*  Nature'  Is  this  Elejb  the  thi.og  rve  enquire  after* 
 
 far 
 
 >.  2.  C.d 
 
+£0  The  Parable  of  the  Wgfinf. 
 
 Fir  be  fuch  a  thought  from  m.  Is  that  Field,  or  tbofe 
 manners  ?  away  with  fuch  an  abfurd  conceit.  Is  fame, 
 is  glory  ?  No  Juch  matter*  what  the n<  Is  mind,  and 
 tinder {landing,  knowledge  and  wifdom,  right  reafon 
 and  found  apprchenftons  ?  Tesi  this  is  the  thing  we 
 look  for  :  here  we  find  God ,  and  therefore  here  let 
 us  feek  for  the  nature  of  Good.  He  is  no  where  elfe  t$ 
 ■be  met  withal,  and  therefore  let  us  go  no  farther  to 
 be  happy.  For  elfe  why  dofi  thou  not  feek  for  tbis  Good 
 in  a  plant  ?  why  dofi  thou  not  expect  to  find  it  in  a, 
 Brute  f  Tbeje  and  all  other  creatures  arc  indeed  the 
 Works  of  God,  but  they  are  not  the  principal  and  chief; 
 they  are  not  a  part  of  him,  they  arc  not  the  things 
 ■wherein  he  hath  engraven  himfelf,  and  wrought  his  own 
 Image.  It  is  thou  that  art  the  prime  of  his  creatures • 
 that  art  his  Mafier- piece :  nay  thou  art  (as  I  may  fay) 
 apiece  of  God  ;  thou  hafl  in  thy  [elf  a  portion  of  Di- 
 vinity, why  then  art  thou  fo  ignorant  of  thy  No* 
 bility  1  why  dofi  thou  forget  foffjame fully  from  whence 
 thou  art  derived  ?  Is  it  fit  for  thee  to  feek  thy  happinefs 
 in  meat  and  drink ,  in  money  and  lands,  in  honour  and 
 applaufe  ?  why  dofi  thou  di [parage  thy  foul  fo  much  as 
 to  go  for  thy  Food  any  further  than  thy  felfl  There  % 
 God,  and  there  thou  mufi  enjoy  thy  Good:  It  is  not  any 
 thing  in  the  World  thou  art  to  mind,  fo  much  as  thy  foul  - 
 form  that  is  to  be  found  the  fatisf action  of  thy  de fires, 
 why  dofi  thou  not  remember  then,  when  thou  eatefi,  who 
 thou  art  that  e  ate fl,  and whom  thou  ft edefi  ?  when  thou 
 ufefi  any  thing  in  the  World,  who  thou  art  that  ufefi  it  ? 
 And  when  thou  dofi  any  thing  ;  who  it  ts  that  doth  it  ? 
 Art  thou  altogether  infenfible  of  the  excellence  of  the 
 perfon  whom  thou  feedefi^  and  who  is  here  fent  into 
 the  world  to  be  trained  up  by  thee  ?  O  wretch  that  thou 
 p.rt,  how  comes  it  about  that  thou  art  fo  ignorant  of  this, 
 
 that 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim .  $6i 
 
 that  thou  car  rye  ft  God  about  with  thee?  Or  doft  thort 
 think  that  J  [peak  of a  God  without  thee  *  A  god  of  Gold 
 or  Silver  to  he  horn  on  thy  (boulders  ?  Thou  carriefl  him 
 i*  thy  felf,  man;  and  yet  re  gar  deft  not,  though  thou  deft 
 pollute  htm  with  filthy  thoughts,  and  befmear  him  with 
 fordidand  nafty  actions.  If  there  be  aftatue,  a  livelefs 
 Image  of  God  before  thine  eyes,  a  picture  of  him  in  ft  one, 
 thou  dare  ft  mt  to  do  any  undecent  thing  before  it.  But 
 God  himself  being  pre jent  within,  feeing  all  things,  and 
 hearing  all  things,  thou  blujbeft  not,  O  thou  hated  of  God, 
 to  think  and  do  moft  unworthily,  being  altogether  infen- 
 fible  of  thy  own  Nature,  if  one  could  ftfppofe  thee  to  be  a 
 Statue  made  by  Phidias  (  Minerva  for  inftance,  or  Jti- 
 ^\X.tx)wouldft  thou  not, if  we  could  alfofuppofe  thee  to  have 
 Any  fenfe,be  very  mindful  of  thy  fe  if, and  of  the  workman, 
 And  d>  nothing  either  unbecoming  his  Art,  or  thy  own 
 Excellence  ?  And  now  that  thou  art  made  even  by  Hea- 
 ven it  f  If-,  now  that  thou  art  the  workmanship  of  God, 
 whats  the  reason  that  thou  carefl  not  after  what  manner 
 thou  behave  ft  thy  felf?  Is  not  that  Image  which  is  made 
 by  man,  compofed  of  ft  one  or  Brafs,  or  of  Gold  and  Ivory 
 at  the  be  (I  ?  and  where  it  is  fet  up  fir  ft,  there  it  ftands 
 for  ever,  without  ftirring  one  foot  of  it  fclffrom  the 
 place.  But  who  can  tell  me  of  what  that  Image  of  God  is  t 
 
 made  which  he  fafhioned  with  his  own  hands  ?  what  the 
 price  of  it  is  ?  it  felf  cannot  under  ft  and.  And  jet  itftirs 
 and  moves  ;  it  hath  a  fpirit,  andean  go  whither  it  will  • 
 it  ranges  about  the  world,  and  cannot  be  limited  by  all 
 that  it  fees  ;  it  hath  a  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  a  rea- 
 fen  and  judgement  whereby  to  eftimate  things.  And 
 therefore  ftnee  thou  art  the  Fabrick  of  fuch  an  Artift, 
 face  thou  art  fuch  an  excellent  piece  •  why  dofl  thou  dif- 
 grace,  why  doft  thou  undervalue  thy  felf '?  why  I  fay? 
 Seeing  thou  art  not  only  formed  by  him}but  he  hath  given 
 A  a  a  thee 
 
262  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 thee  credit  above  all  other  creatures  ;  he  hath  depoftted 
 many  rare  gifts  in  thy  hands,  and  intrufted  thee  alone 
 with  a  great  deal  of  his  wealth  r  wilt  thou  not  be  mindful 
 of  this  neither ,  but  betray  thy  trujl^  and  abufe  and  em- 
 bez.il  his  goods  which  he  hath  committed  to  thy  charge  ? 
 jf  one  Jhould  commit  an  Orphan,  a  poor  Father  It fs  and 
 
 Mother lejs  child  to  thy  care0 —  wouldjl  thou  be  [0 
 
 negligent  of  him  <  Bethink  thy  felf  then  •,  He  hath  com- 
 mitted to  thee  thy  felf \  he  hath  judged  none  fo  faithful, 
 none  fo  fit  to  be  trujled  as  thee.  Keep  me  this,  faith  he, 
 jujl  as  it  is.  See  that  this  be  preferred  in  fefcty,  and  de- 
 livered back  again  unto  me ,  modejl  and  bafhful,  hone  ft 
 and  juft)  fober  and  temper  ate,  heavenly  and  fublime, 
 ftrong  and  couragious^  peaceful  and  und'fturbed,  con- 
 tented and  well  pie  a  fed ;  in  one  wordt  fuch  as  I  made  it. 
 what  apiece  of  infidelity  then,  what  dtfbonefly  andfalfe- 
 nefs  is  it  that  thou  wilt  not  at  all  guard  and  fecure  it  ? 
 what  will  he  fay  unto  thee  when  he  fees  it  fo  horridly 
 abufed  as  we  now  behold  the  fouls  of  men?  what  can  ft 
 thou  expect  to  be  the  reward  of  fuch  treachery,  which 
 of  all  other  is  the  greatefl  ? 
 
 But  I  ihould  tyre  you,  I  doubt,  if  I  fhould  proceed  to 
 the  end  of  this  mans  Lecture  >  and  I  have  repeated 
 enough  of  it  to  make  all  your  fouls  blufti  at  that  grofs 
 and  fupine  negligence,  which  makes  them  obnoxious  to 
 the  la(h  of  Heathens.  And  if  you  would  deal  freely  and 
 cleaily,canyoufay  that  you  never  heard  your  Souls 
 complain  that  they  are  thus  flighted?  Did  they  never 
 quarrel  with  you  for  your  forgctfulnefs  and  contempt  of 
 them  i  are  they  not  apt  to  murmur  and  repine  that  they 
 can  receive  no  higher  fatisfacYion  than  the  brutes  en- 
 joy i  And  do  they  not  remember  you  that  they  are  of  an 
 heavenly  defcent,  of  the  kindred  of  Angels,  made  after 
 
 -  the 
 
77*  Tarableof.theftlgrim.  3<$$ 
 
 the  likenefs  of  God  himfelf i  O  that  yof  would  but 
 lilten  co  them  <  They  will  fill  your  tars  I  am  Cure  with 
 fuch  fad  lamentations,  as  will  make  them  tingle.  They 
 will  tell  you  it  is  unfurTerable  that  they  fliould  be  thus 
 neglected  and  difrcgirded.  They  will  chide  you  for  be- 
 .  flowing  the  care  thac  is  due  to  them  upon  other  inconfi- 
 derable  things.  They  will  reproach  to  you  mod  bitterly 
 this  (lcepinefs  and  carnal  fecurity  wherein  I  find  you. 
 And  can  you  be  fo  Ci  uel  to  them,  as  after  fo  many  com- 
 plaints, to  lee  them  have  no  redrefs  f  Muft  they  ftill  iuf- 
 fer  thefe  wrongs  and  abufes  which  have  been  long  offer- 
 ed to  them  i  Will  you  harden  your  hearts  againft  the 
 cryes  and  clamours  of  your  own  Souls  *  If  there  be  any 
 fpark  of  good  nature  remaining  in  them,they  are  mollifi- 
 ed to  the  piteous  whinings,arid  the  mournful  accents  of  a 
 poor  Dog,that  is  accidentally  fhut  up  and  almoft  ftarv'd 
 in  a  lonefome  place,  and  begs  for  a  releafe.  How  can 
 they  refufe  then  to  relent  at  their  own  doleful  cries,  and 
 miferable  complaints  i  How  can  they  hear  without  fome 
 tendernefs,  their  own  fad  fighs and  deep  groans  after  a 
 better  good  than  this  World  affords  i  Will  you  not  fuf- 
 fer  them  to  be  fet  at  liberty  after  fo  long  reftraint  i  Will 
 you  not  permit  them  to  go  to  their  own  kindred,  to  re- 
 turn to  their  native  Countrey  when  they  are  fo  defirous 
 of  it  i  Will  you  deny  them  the  freedom  to  think  con- 
 tinually of  their  own  proper  happinefs,  and  contrive 
 a  fure  way  wherein  to  attain  it  i  Be  not  fo  unnatural, 
 do  not  fo  forget  your  felves ;  but  let  your  Souls  have 
 free  leave  to  purfue  their  defires.  Yea  give  them  op- 
 portunity every  day  to  look  abroad  beyond  the  Body 
 and  this  prefent  world.  Or  rather  invite  them  to  take 
 the  freedom  to  go  to  God  as  oft  as  they  pleafe.  And 
 when  you  find  them  fo  unmindful  of  themfclves  as  now 
 they  fecmedtobe;  when  they  arefo  heavy  that  they 
 A  a  a  2  begin 
 
 j 
 
364  rhe  Viable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 begin  to  f^laileeps  awake  them  and  ftir  them  up 
 again:  rouzethem  from  their  flumber,  and  bid  them 
 remember  their  Dignity,  and  take  great  heed  that  they 
 be  not  galled  with  the  flatteries  and  enchantments  of 
 the  world,  and  of  the  Flefli. 
 
 And  truly  there  is  very  great  need  of  this  watchful- 
 nefs ;  for  the  Flefli  will  be  iolliciting  your  attendance, 
 and  defire  you  to  make  provifion  for  it.  Ic  will  com- 
 plain of  your  negleds  too ;  and  be  angry  that  it  is  not 
 more  kindly  ufed.  It  will  grudge  at  all  the  time  and 
 care  that  isbeftowed  on  your  Soul,  and  fay  ic  is  too 
 much.  You  muitexpecl  that  it  will  murmur  at  the 
 commands  of  Chnft,  and  think  it  felf  very  much  in- 
 jured by  them.  But  as  you  muft  not  regard  thefe  com- 
 plaints, fo  I  will  tell  you  a  way  whereby  you  mall 
 ceafethem,  and  make  it  better  fatisfied.  Let  it  know 
 that  if  it  will  not  be  content  with  what  you  do,  it  fhall 
 have  worfe  ufage  than  hitherto.  Tell  it  that  you  will 
 not  have  fo  much  kindnefs  for  it,  unlefs  it  will  be  quiet. 
 Perfwade  it  that  it  is  better  to  confent  unto  obedience 
 fooner,forelfe  it  (hall  fare  more  hardly,  and  you  will 
 take  a  feverer  courfe  to  bring  it  under.  For  fo  I  have 
 read,  that  HiUrion^  ancient  Pilgrim,  was  wont  to  do. 
 When  he  found  his  flefli  to  be  much  difpleafed  that  ic 
 was  denyed  any  thing  •,  He  infulted  over  ic  on  this  fa- 
 fhion.  Thou  Afs  1  canft  thou  not  tell  when  thou  art 
 well,-  and  haft  but  a  light  burden  upon  thy  back  ?  I  will 
 make  thee  that  thou  (halt  not  kick  again  in  hafte.  I  will 
 lay  fuch  loads  upon  thee,  that  thou  (halt  ftand  quietly 
 and  have  no  power  to  wince.  And  1  will  not  feed  thee 
 with  corn,  but  with  ftraw.  I  will  punifli  thee  with 
 hunger  and  thirft.  I  will  afflidt  thee  with  fa/ting,  and 
 bring  thee  low  with  harder  labours.     I  will  make  thee 
 
 think 
 
The  P hy able  tf  the  Pilgrim.  265 
 
 think  more  of  thy  meat,  than  of  gluttony  and  riot. 
 Thou  (hale  be  glad  of  a  drop  of  drink,  and  reft  well 
 content  withouc  convocations  and  excefs  of  Wine. 
 Thou  hadft  better  have  been  more  moderate  in  thy 
 defires,  for  I  will  teach  thee  to  be  well  pleafed  with  a 
 fparcr  diet.  It  had  been  more  for  thine  eafe  if  thou 
 hadft  been  more  diligent  ;  for  I  will  cure  thee  of  thy 
 Sloath,  by  exacting  of  thee  more  grievous  tasks. 
 
 In  this  manner  he  quieted  and  ftill'd  all  its  grum- 
 blings, and  affrighted  away  its  reluctance  and  idledif- 
 pofition.  And  in  the  fame  way  may  you  bring  it  to 
 ibmereafon,and  make  it  capable  of  good  advice  ;  left 
 by  craving  too  much  it  have  the  lefs ;  and  by  incroach- 
 ing  upon  the  better  pare,  it  lofe  the  freedom  thac  it 
 doth  enjoy.  Terrifie  your  felves  with  the  thoughts 
 of  feverer  Difcipline,  which  you  muft  be  forced  to  ufe : 
 and  reprefent  to  your  felves  effectually,  that  if  there 
 be  no  other  way,  this  fluggim  temper  muft  be  banifhed 
 by  a  rigorous  and  (harp  pennance,  which  you  can  lefs 
 endure  than  this  eafie  fervice  of  our  Lord.  By  this 
 means  fure  you  will  procure  liberty  for  your  fouls  to 
 follow  their  nobler  propenfions,  and  to  provide  for 
 their  return  into  their  own  Countrey,  and  their  Fathers 
 Houfe.  Which  if  you  mean  to  effect,  then  you  muft 
 take  more  time,  whacfoever  the  Flefh  or  the  World 
 fhailobj  ct,  to  confider  more  ferioufly  the  worth  and 
 price  of  your  Souls,  than  which  I  know  not  what  can 
 be  more  powerful  to  drive  away  your  fleep,  and  to 
 make  you  attend  with  all  earneftnels  to  the  fecuring  of 
 their  happinefs.  Remember  again  I  befeech  you,  That 
 it  is  too  long  that  you  have  remained  in  ignorance  of 
 your  felves.  That  it  is  high  time  now  to  look  about 
 you,  left  your  Souls  quite  forget  therafelves,  and  never 
 
 tecover. 
 
$66  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 recover  the  memory  of  what  and  whence  they  are.  Let 
 my  counfel  therefore  be  acceptable  to  you,  and  re- 
 volve very  often  in  your  mind  the  words  of  that  Hea- 
 then whom  I  have  brought  hither  to  make  you 
 afhamed.  Retire  much  into  your  felves,  and  there 
 demand  of  your  Souls,  that  they  declare  their  quality 
 and  condition  to  you.  They  are  able  to  make  you 
 an  anfwer,  and  therefore  bid  them  tell  you  what  is 
 their  parentage  and  kindred,  of  what  houfe  they  are 
 defcended,  what  is  their  nature,  their  portion,  their 
 inheritance,  and  do  not  ceafe  till  you  have  received  fa- 
 cisfacYion.  Ask  them  if  they  are  not  the  Daughters  of 
 God,  Sifters  to  Angels,  Images  of  Divinity.  Hearken 
 if  they  will  not  cell  you  thac  chey  are  fpirits  of  a  vaft 
 understanding,  purer  chan  the  Light,  Swifter  than  the 
 Lightning*  whofeporuon  and  dowry  is  immortality, 
 whofc  place  is  che  Univerfe,  whofe  capacity  is  a  picture 
 of  Infinity,  and  who  are  born  cobe  heirs  of  che  other 
 world,  co  have  the  honour  of  being  Kings,  and  to  raign 
 wichGod  forever.  And  when  your  Souls  have  dealt 
 faithfully  with  you,  and  let  you  know  fuch  things  as 
 thefe,  you  muft  be  as  faithful  and  juft  co  chem,  and 
 aflure  them  chat  you  will  have  a  great  care  of  them, 
 and  attend  upon  them  according  to  their  birch  and 
 quality.  Think  what  a  madnefs  it  is  to  throw  away 
 this  nobler  Moity  of  man,  for  that  which  no  difcreec 
 perfon  would  purchafe  with  the  lofs  of  his  health,  or  the 
 price  of  the  pain  and  anguifh  of  the  far  inferiour  part. 
 Let  every  one  of  you  fay  within  himfelf,  O  my  Soul,  I 
 will  never  beperfwaded  to  lofe  thee  •,  nothing  mall 
 tempt  me  to  be  falfe  unto  thee.  This  body  fhall  be 
 hungry  and  ftarv'd,  nay  and  dye  too  if  it  were  poflible 
 a  thout'and  deaths  rather  than  I  will  famifh  thee,  and 
 fuffer  thee  to  perifh.     I  have  refolved  thou  (halt  have 
 
 thy 
 
71)e  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  $67 
 
 thy  true  liberty,  and  purfue  thy  true  end  for  which  thou 
 waft  made.  Look  about  thee,  and  fee  what  thou  wouldft 
 have,  and  by  the  grace  of  God  it  mall  not  be  deny'd  to 
 thy  defires.And  what  is  it,  I  befeech  you,  O  you  Sons  of 
 men,  or  rather,  you  Sons  of  God,  you  children  of  the 
 Moft  High  j  what  is  it  that  you  are  moft  defirous  to  en- 
 joy i  Is  it  not  the  knowledge  of  God,  to  be  acquainted 
 with  your  Father,  to  recover  his  Image,  to  beimprefled 
 with  his  Likencfs,  to  live  in  his  Lovc,to  have  the  Light 
 of  his  countenance,  to  be  full  of  good  hopes  of  receiving 
 his  BlefTmg,and  to  be  reftoredat  laft  to  his  prefence  af- 
 ter this  long  banifhment  from  him  *.   O  gratifie  your 
 felves  then  fo  far,  as  to  give  all  diligence  to  fulfil  thefe 
 reasonable  longings.     Be  not  fparing  of  your  pains  in  Pj 
 great  abufinefs.Let  not  your  Souls  be  put  off  with  frivo- 
 lous excufes,  that  you  are  not  at  leifure,  that  you  have 
 other  things  to  mind  for  the  convenience  of  your  Bo- 
 dies, or  any  the  like  pretences  i  but  inftamly  apply 
 your  felves  more  vigoroufly  than  ever  to  fee  that  they 
 have  right  done  them,  and  that  they  receive  their  true 
 and  full  fatisfaclion.     Do  not  think  it  isfuch  a  fmall 
 matter  that  will  content  them  as  the  whole  World-. 
 "Nay,  do  not  Imagine  that  it  will  fuffice  them  to  talk 
 of  the  other  world  ^  to  fend  fome  meflages  to  it,  and 
 receive  fome  from  it.     It  is  not  enough  thit  they  fpeak 
 now  and  then  with  the  father  of  their  Being  •,  and  that 
 they  have  his  word,  and  hear  him  fpeaking  to  them. 
 But  they  muft  have  a  greater  communication  with 
 them  both,  than  this  amounts  unto.     They  muft  fee 
 their  affe&ions  on  things  above  :  they  muft  have  their 
 converfation  in  Heaven  :  they  muft  be  like  to  God, 
 and  made  partakers  of  a  Divine  Nature.     They  muft 
 be  renewed  after  the  Image  of  him  that  created  them, 
 in  Wifdom,  in  Righteoufnefs,  in  Purity,  in  Charity  and 
 
 Love  j 
 
$6%  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 Love ;  fo  that  God  may  dwell  in  them,  and  they  in 
 him.  No  lefs  Good  than  this  muft  you  defign  for  your 
 Souls.  You  do  not  a&  like  realbnable  Beings,  till  you 
 feek  by  all  means  this  conformity  with  your  Original 
 from  whence  you  fpring.  Do  you  doubt  at  ail  of 
 what  I  lay  <  Let  me  fend  you  then  to  that  Philofopher 
 again,  that  you  maybluih  cncemore  to  fee  yourfelves 
 in  greater  ignorance  than  thofe  whom  you  reproach 
 with  the  name  of  Infidels. 
 
 L.  3.  c.  2.  Diogenes,  faith  he,  hearing  a  Sophifler  once  making  a 
 
 vainglorious  declamation,  put  forth  his  middle  finger, 
 and  pointed  at  him  faying  ;  See,  there  ts  the  man  :  be- 
 hold him,  for  that  is  he  :  novo  you  may  look  upon  him)  and 
 know  him  if  you  will.  At  which  words  there  being  a 
 great  (lir  and  tumult  excited,  he  proceeded  thus  in  his 
 fpeech  unto  them.  Do  you  think  that  I  [hew  you  a  man  as 
 rve  do  a  {lone  or  a.  log,  only  with  the  indication  of  my  fin- 
 ger? No,  J  have  no  fuch  meaning  :  It  is  a  folly  to  think 
 ofdijlinguifhing  a  man  from  his  neighbour  by  fuch  an  In- 
 jlrument.  But  when  one  hathfhownyou  his  opinions  that 
 he  hath  of  things,  when  he  hath  demonflrated  to  you  what 
 are  his  great  concerns  ;  then  he  hathjhown  him  to  you  its 
 he  is  a  man.  And  from  thence  now  you  may  take  this 
 mans  Char  after  whom  you  have  heard fpeaking  to  you  He 
 hath  told  you  what  he  thinks,  and  what  he  mofl  de  fires  :  I 
 only  bidyou  to  mark  and  observe  him.  Let  us  fee  thy  opi- 
 nions and  notions  alfo  (faith  the  Philofopher  who  makes 
 application  of  this  ftory)  Let  us  behold  thy  fentiments, 
 that  we  may  be  acquainted  with  thee. Discover  to  us  what 
 thou  lovefl  and  chufefl  above  all  other  things.  Dofl  thou 
 place  thy  happinefs  -without  thy  felf?  dofl  thou  value  all 
 things  more  than  thy  felf?  Thou  readefl  the  be  (I  Philofo- 
 phers,  thoufludieJlChryfvpyus,  and  fuch  good  Authors  - 
 
 And 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  3  r5p 
 
 gnd  this  u  all.  why,  then  we  fee  very  well  who  thou  art. 
 Haft  thou  not  discovered  to  us  in  what  efteem  we  are  to 
 hold  thee?  A  poor  fpirited  Creature,  angry  and  furious, 
 fearful  and  dtftrujlful^uerulous  and  complaining  of  eve- 
 ry thing-)  proud  and  conceited  of  thy  [elf,  covetous  and  vo- 
 luptuous,dc fir ous  of  glory  and  popular  applaufe^accuftng  all 
 things,  and  never  quiet  nor  at  reft.  Theje  thngs  thou 
 fbeweft  us;  and  by  thefe  we  are  to  efteem  thee.L  u  not  thy 
 Books  ^nor  thy  Mafters  and  Tutors ^nor  any  thing  elf e,  but 
 fuch  as  thefe  thatfbew  the  man. 
 
 And  what,  I  befeech  you,  can  be  more  proper  to  be 
 fpoken  in  the  ears  of  molt  Chriftian  Auditories  i  You 
 read  the  Bibles  you  have  the  Books  of  Chriftian  Learn- 
 ing in  yo-ur  hands.  Do  thefe  denominate  you  Chri- 
 ftian men  and  women  i  Muft  we  call  you  the  Difciples 
 of  our  Saviour,  becaufe  you  fit  before  us  and  hear  our 
 Sermons?  No  fuch  matter:  Shew  us,  O  man,  thy 
 thoughts,  (hew  us  thy  decrees  and  opinions  of  things. 
 Let  us  fee  thy  under  (landing,  thy  will,  thy  choice,  thy 
 affccYions :  that  we  may  know  whether  thou  art  a  Chri- 
 ftian or  no.  And  where  (hall  we  fee  thefe  but  in  the 
 actions  of  thy  life  1  Covetoufnefs  and  love  of  pleafure 
 tell  us  plainly  what  thou  art.  Pride  and  ftudy  to  be  ad- 
 mired in  the  World  proclaim  thee  to  us  more  than  all 
 that  we  fee  befide.  If  thou  wilt  give  a  proof  of  thy  Hu- 
 manity,and  of  thy  Chriftianity  too;If  thou  will  have  us 
 believe  that  thou  art  not  yet  turned  an  unreafonable 
 creature ;  live  according  to  thy  reafon  ;  practife  thy  Re- 
 ligion; prefer  thy  Soul  before  thy  Body,  the  concern- 
 ments of  an  immortal  Being  before  the  trivial  enjoy- 
 ments of  a  few  moments.  Do  not  tell  us  of  thy  profef- 
 fions,  nor  of  thy  belief,  when  we  fee  with  our  eyes  that 
 which  better  declares  thee  to  us.  Let  thy  Soul  rcco- 
 Bbb  ver 
 
-^a  %6  farahle  of  the  Tilgrm, 
 
 ver  its  command  again  5  let  ic  be  reftored  to  its  em- 
 pire and  dominion ;  let  it  rule  all  the  paflions  and  af- 
 fections of  the  lower  part,  that  we  may  know  thouarc 
 a  Man,  and  not  degenerated  into  a  Beaft. 
 
 And  now  by  this  time  you  may  well  think  thefe  Pil- 
 grims were  awakened,  unlefs  they  meant  to  fnort  eter- 
 nally.   And  indeed  the  poor  men  were  fo  warm'd,    or 
 rather  inflamed  with  thisdifcourfe,  that  they  could  re- 
 frain themfelves  no  longer,    but  burft  forth  into  a  paf- 
 iionate  weeping;    firft  for  their  fault  and  then  for 
 joy,   that  God  had  fent  them  fo  faithful  a  Monitor.. 
 They  gave  him  moft  hearty  thanks  for  his  excellent  Ser- 
 mon Cas  they  could  not  chufe  but  call  it)  and  promifed 
 moft  folemnly  to  think  more  of  the  value  of  their 
 Souls,   and  thereby  excite  themfelves  to  ufe  their  beft 
 diligence  to  fave  them.     We  will  go,   faid  they,  to 
 the  Father  of  our  Spirits :    we  will  make  it  our  con- 
 ftant  endeavour  to  reconcile  our  felves  to  him*     We 
 will  fay,   Father,  we  have  finned  againft  thee  •,    we 
 have  finned  againft  our  felves.      We  have  wronged 
 our  own  Souls ;    we  are  no  more  worthy  to  be  cal- 
 led thy  Sons :  no  not  worthy  of  fo  much  as  to  be 
 called  the  Sons  of  men.    We  have  lived  like  Brutes ; 
 we  have  fpoiled  thy  workmanfhip ;  and  miferably  ef- 
 faced and  mangled  thine  Image.     But  we  repent,   and 
 remember  from  whence  we  are  fain.     We  are  defirous 
 now  of  nothing  fo  much,  as  to  be  conformed  to  thy 
 felf.     0  let  us  be  thy  fervants,  ifwearenoc  worthy  to 
 be  called  thy  Children.     Admit  us  but  into  the  loweft 
 place  in  thy  family,  to  the  meaneft  degree  of  thy  Love. 
 And  if  that  be  too  good  a  name  for  us,  to  bcftiled  thy 
 fervants ;  we  are  willing  to  be  thy  Vaflals,  thy  Bondf- 
 men,   any  thing  that  thou  wilt  have  us.     For  we  are 
 
 the 
 
The  Taj'ohle  of  the  Pilgrim.  *yx 
 
 the  Captives  of  thy  Mighty  and  All- conquering  Love, 
 and  we  ihall  think  our  felves  happy,  if  we  may  /it  in 
 the  moft  inferiour  rank  of  thofe,  that  {lull  eternally 
 fingthyPraifes. 
 
 CHAP.    XXXI. 
 
 How  the  Pilgrim  was  falling  into  the  contrary  Ext  re  am., 
 and  was  prevented  by  hu  DireBor.  Of  the  necefjity  of 
 Difcretion.  And.  the  afjijlance  which  one  rerttte  gives 
 another.  How  he  was  troubled  that  hefhotdd  have  any 
 faffions.  Of  the  ufe  of  them.  That  it  ufit  for  us  to  love 
 our  friends  pafjionately  :  and  to  take  great  delight  m 
 their  company. 
 
 IN  fuch  ardent  effufions  as  thefe  they  a  long  time  un- 
 loadned  themfelves  of  the  paffions  which  they  felt 
 in  their  hearts.  Which  being  all  vented,  there  ftill  re- 
 mained a  very  great  one  for  this  Good  man,  which  they 
 were  not  able  to  utter.  Very  forry  they  were  that  it  was 
 not  poffible  for  them  always  to  accompany  him,  and 
 when  they  took  their  leave,  it  was  with  fo  many  frefti 
 tears  and  vows  of  never  forgetting  his  inftruclions, 
 that  he  thought  his  ftay  with  them  promoted  him  more 
 in  his  way  to  Jerufalem ;  than  many  other  long  days 
 Journeys.  Nor  was  our  young  Pilgrim  without  his 
 {hare  in  the  benefit  of  this  difcourfe,  being  hereby  ex- 
 cited to  beftir  himfelf  with  more  earneftneft,  and  grea- 
 ter Zeal  in  the  fervice  of  God.  He  never  thought 
 that  he  was  vigilant  enough ;  he  lookt  about  him  as 
 if  he  had  feen  with  an  hundred  eyes ;  and  he  was  as 
 bufie,  as  if  he  had  been  Mafter  of  as  many  Hands.  And 
 Bbb  2  to 
 
.7  2  The  far  able  of  the  filgrim. 
 
 to  be  (hort,  he  was  in  danger  to  throw  himfelf  into  the 
 other  extream ,  by  an  unbridled  and  headlong  kind 
 of  fervour  •    which  carried  him  to  attempt  and  un- 
 dertake more  than  he  was  able  to  perform.     Which 
 the  good  man  elpying,  and  confidcring  that  it  would 
 foon  tire  him,  and  Co  bring  him  into  a  new  trouble  ;  he 
 told  him,  that  to  make  their  way  feem  lefs  tedious,   he 
 would  entertain  him  a  little  with  a  ftory  of  one  of  the 
 Pilgrims  in  former  days.     You  have  heard,  faidhe,  I 
 believe  of  a  famous  perfon  in  Egypt  called  St.  Antkvny^ 
 who  led  a  life  to  holy,  that  there  were  few  places  into 
 which  his  name  did  not  eome,and  from  whence  fome  or 
 other  did  not  go  to  behold  fo  rare  an  example  of  per- 
 fect Vertue.    Among  others  there  were  certain  Monks 
 on  a  time  went  to  him  to  confer  about  divine  matters; 
 and  they  were  fo  earneft  in  a  difpute  which  arofe  among 
 them,  that  it  lafted  from  the  beginning  of  the  night,  to 
 the  next  day  morning.  The  thing  under  debate  was  this," 
 as  'John  Caffim  tells  us,WhatVertue  or  what  obfervance 
 is  it,  that  may  be  thought  of  greateft  efficacy  to  pre- 
 ferve  a  Monk  in  perpetual  fafety  from  diabolical  mares 
 and  deceits ;  and  to  lead  him  in  the  beft  way,  and  with 
 greateft  freedom  to  the  top  of  Perfection  i    For  the 
 refolutionof  which  doubt,  each  one  according  to  his 
 capacity,   produced  what  he  thought  to  be  moft  avail- 
 able.    Some  there  were  who  placed  ail  in  Faflings  and 
 WAtcbings  s    alledging  for  proof  hereof,  that  a  man  be- 
 ing extenuated  hereby,  and  made  very  pure  in  foul  and 
 body,  may  more  eahly  come  to  be  united  with  God. 
 Others  preferred  entire  Poverty  before  thofe,  andfaid, 
 that  a  total  contempt  of  all  worldly  things,  was  the  on- 
 ly fecuriry  of  man  ;   in  reg.rd  the  mind  being  naked 
 and  quite  ftripc  of  all  thofe  impediments,    becomes 
 more  light  and  enlarged,   and  may  fpeedily  mount  to 
 
 the 
 
Tl?e  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  yy  j 
 
 the  heavenly  enjoyments.  But  there  were  a  third  fore 
 who  gave  the  Palm  to  the  We  of  Solitude,  and  com- 
 mended the  Defarts  as  the  only  places  wherein  to  come 
 to  familiarity  with  God,  and  to  hold  a  perpetual  com- 
 munication with  his  infinite  Goodnefs.  Nor  were  they 
 wanting  who  with  a  great  deal  of  leafon  preferred  trie 
 •work-;  of  Mercy  jsA  Brotherly  Charity  before  ail  other 
 exercifeswhatlbever;  affirming  thac  nothing  would 
 give  us  lo  good  a  title  to  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  nor 
 more  readily  bring  us  thicher.  Thus  every  one  having 
 unfolded  his  mind  and  enlarged  himfelf  as  much  as  he 
 pleafed  in  proof  of  his  own  opinion,  the  greater  pare 
 of  the  night  was  confumed  before  it  came  to  St.  Antho- 
 ny* turn  to  fpeak ;  who  delivered  himfelf  in  manner 
 following. 
 
 It  cannot  be  denyed,  my  Reverend  Brethren,  but 
 that  the  propofitions  by  you  now  made,  are  of  lingular 
 force  to  keep  a  mans  heart  with  God,  and  to  bring  him 
 to  a  moft  excellent  degree  of  Vertue.  But  yet  to  rely, 
 principally  on  their  fufficiency,  innumerable  reafons 
 and  events  alfo,  occurring  to  divers  perfons,  will  not 
 permit  me.  I  have  been  a  man  of  fome  obfervation> 
 and  many  have  1  leen  in  my  time  that  were  given  to 
 wondrous  abftinence  from  meat  and  fleep  ;  that  were 
 retired  from  all  humane  Society ;  addicted  in  fach, 
 fort  to  Poverty,  as  not  to  referve  a  penny  for  them- 
 selves, or  a  loaf  of  bread  for  the  future;  fome  always 
 at  their  devotion,  others  imployed  in  acts  of  Hofpita- 
 Hty,  and  fuccouring  of  their  Neighbours ;  whonever- 
 thelefs  fell  at  laft  into  t'uch  errors  and  illuiionsPthat  their 
 end  proved  nothing  anfwerable  to  their  magnanimous 
 beginnings.  So  that  I  conceive  the  beft  way  to  know 
 what  will  advance  us  in  our  de/ign  of  enjoying  God 
 
 more 
 
~y  *  The  Parable  of  tfa  Pilgrim. 
 
 more  perfectly,  and  put  us  in  poflcflion  of  that  ftate  wc 
 afpire  unto,  is  to  fearch  into  the  occafion  of  the  ruine 
 and  perdition  of  thofe  unhappy  ones.  Moft  certain  ic 
 is  they  had  been  gathering  together  a  notable  treafure 
 of  good  and  holy  works,  what  was  it  then  which  made 
 it  wafte  away  and  come  to  nothing  ?  Surety  the  only 
 lack  of  Discretion.  They  had  not  fufficiently  learned 
 the  rules  and  conditions  of  this  Vertue,  which  fhunning 
 eitfier 'extremes,  maintains  us  continually  upon  the 
 high  way :  neither  letting  us  be  carried  away  with 
 the  right  hand  of  fpiritual  confolations,  to  fuperfluous 
 and  unmeafurable  fervours ;  nor  yet  with  the  left  of 
 drynefs,  and  want  of  fpiritual  guft,  under  colour  of 
 care  of  the  Body  to  fall  into  floth  and  fenfuality.  This 
 Bifcretion  is  that  which  our  Lord  calls  the  Eye  and 
 Lamp  of  the  Body,  which  being  clear  and  fimple,  the 
 whole  body  will  be  replenished  with  light  •  but  being 
 dimm,  there  will  be  nothing  but  darknefs.  To  this 
 faculty  it  belongs  to  weigh,  ballance  and  difcern  all 
 chat  its  to  be  done  by  man.and  therefore  if  this  be  faul- 
 ty, and  true  judgement  and  knowledge  be  wanting,  the 
 foul  muft  needs  be  folded  up  in  a  night  of  inordinate  and 
 blind  paflions. 
 
 To  this,  *s  there  was  reafon,  they  all  gave  their  ap- 
 pjaufe,  there  being  many  other  things  added  to  con- 
 firm this  affertion,  which  it  is  not  pertinent  to  relate. 
 It  is  lawful  now  for  me  to  caft  in  my  fuffrage  alfo,  and 
 to  tell  you  that  this  Difcrction  is  it  alone  which  can 
 make  our  faftingsand  Vigils  profitable,  by  directing  to 
 the  right  meafure,  and  the  due  feafon  of  them.  It  will 
 teach  us  not  to  abftain  when  there  is  need  wc  fhould 
 eat'5  and  not  call  it  Religion  to  be  miferably  fick.  It 
 will  learn  us  to  regard  the  end  5   and  not  fail  in  Zeal, 
 
 but 
 
The  far  able  of  the  fSgrmi  Sj  j  , 
 
 But  for  nothing  elfe.  And  when  wcdo  fad  in  obedi- 
 ence to  them  above  us,  it  will  let  us  understand  that 
 their  Laws  are  not  fatisfied,  but  when  the  intention 
 and  purpofe  of  them  can  be  obferved.  This  alibis  it 
 which  will  make  retirement  ufeful,  by  drawing  us  out 
 of  it  upon  fit  occasions.  This  will  make  us  poor  with- 
 out becoming  Beggers :  And  fervent  in  devotion  with- 
 out blazing  away  in  the  fiercenefs  of  our  own  flames. 
 It  will  direct  us  fo  to  give  away  our  goods,  tjjat  we 
 may  be  always  giving.  And  to  fuccour  our  neigh- 
 bours, fo  that  we  may  not  be  weary  of  well  doing. 
 To  communicate  common  benefits  with  all,  and  pecu- 
 liar benefits  with  choice.  And  to  take  care  ( as  wife 
 men  have  faid  )  that  in  making  the  Portraiture  we  do 
 not  fpoil  the  pattern,  and  in  feeding  the  ftreams  we 
 dry- not  up  the  Fountain.  For  God  hath  made  the 
 love  of  our  felvesthe  pattern  whereby  we  are  to  love 
 our  neighbours  -,  and  we  (hall  not  be  good  to  them 
 long,  if  we  mind  not  firft  our  own  concerns.  It  is  the 
 Vertue  which  hinders  us  from  fpoiling  a  good  defign 
 through  ramnefs  and  haft.  It  keeps  us  from  tripping 
 up]  our  own  heels  by  running  too  faft.  It  keeps  us 
 from  being  tired,  while  it  keeps  us  from  taking  too 
 long,  though  continued  Journeys.  It  keeps  us  al- 
 ways at  our  work,  byktepmg  us  from  over- working 
 our  felves.  It  makes  Religion  eafie  and  pleafant  by 
 making  it  free  and  unconfirmed.  It  brings  Religion 
 fo  much  into  our  love,  that  it  will  never  fall  into  our 
 hatred.  It  prcferves  us  from  deftroying  the  body, 
 while  we  are  labouring  to  fave  the  foul.  It  feeds  the 
 foul  without  any  gluttony  -and  favesit  from  n  mfeating 
 fpiritual  things,  by  providing  that  it  take  no  furfeit  of 
 them.  If  conduces  our  affairs  wirh  more  temper,  and 
 lets  rumour  j  wiih  more  eflefts,  and  !efs  (how.  It  makes 
 
 OS 
 
.  7  5  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 us  zealous  without  rafhnefs ;  and  excites  us  to  do 
 good  to  our  feives,  without  prejudicing  the  good  of 
 others.  It  quenches  the  furious  heat  which  affrights 
 the  wicked,  and  diicourages  the  weak,  and  upbraids 
 the  ibbernefs  of  thole  who  are  ftrong.  It  (hews  that  it 
 is  poffible  at  once  to  be  Religious,  and  yet  Wife.  It 
 adorns  the  Gofpel,  and  is  a  great  grace  and  ornament 
 to  him  that  wears  it.  It  commends  Piety  to  the  World, 
 and  dojh  not  impair  it  in  our  felves.  It  gives  a  luftre 
 to  all  the  Vermes,  and  they  borrow  their  beauty  from 
 it.  And  in  one  word,  it  is  at  leaft  their  Handmaid  which 
 muft  ever  wait  upon  them,  or  elfe  they  will  dilhonour 
 themfelves. 
 
 Our  young  Pilgrim,  you  difcern  by  this  time,'  was  a 
 man  of  fpmuch  wit,  that  he  could  not  but  fee  the  de- 
 fign  of  this  ftory,  and  think  that  it  had  an  aim  at  him- 
 felf.    And  being  very  much  cooled  and  refreshed  by 
 this  charitable  breath  which  the  Father  had  fpent  up- 
 on him  ;  he  inftantly  apprehended  that  he  had  con- 
 trived to  give  him  a  divertifement,  and  an  inft ruftion 
 both  together.     For  fometime  he  could  do  nothing  elfe 
 but  commend  this  Vertue,    till  at  laft  he  remembred 
 there  was  fome  praife  due  to  the  Father,   who  had  gi- 
 ven him  now  fuch  an  inftance  of  it.    And  having  ren- 
 dred  him  his  thanks  both  for  the  leffon  and  the  feafon- 
 ablenefs  of  it,  he  affured  him  that  he  would  never  travel  . 
 without  this  Discretion  about  him.     No  more  you  had 
 need,  faid  his  Companion,  for  though  I  called  her  only 
 the  Handmaid  of  the  Vermes,  yet  in  truth  me  feems  to 
 be  a  Miftrefs  among  them ;  and  to  difpofe  them  to  their 
 feveral  duties.    For  one  Vertue,  you  muft  know,  is 
 in  need  of  its  neighbour,  and  cannot  live  alone.     They 
 muft  help  one  another  continually,   or  elfe  they  will 
 
 be 
 
The  farable  of  the  Pilgrim .  377 
 
 be  very  lame  and  defe&ive.  They  muft  lend  to  each 
 other  a  mutual  fupport,  or  elfe  they  will  be  in  danger 
 of  falling  to  the  ground.  Meeknefs  muft  lend  its  hand 
 to  Zeal,  and  Zeal  muft  do  as  much  for  it  again;  or  elfc 
 the  one  will  be  but  Fire,  and  the  other  will  be  buc 
 Phlegm.  Serioufnefs  muft  be  beholden  to  Chearful- 
 nefs  j  and  Chearfulnefs  muft  call  to  be  repayed  by  it  - 
 or  elfe  we  (hall  be  either  all  earth  or  nothing  but  Air. 
 Humility  wants  a  little  confidence  •,  and  holy  Faith 
 muft  be  joyned  with  fome  Fear ;  an  high  Generofity  and 
 great  courage  is  very  imperfect  without  Modefty  - 
 and  a  fevere  Juftice  muft  be  acquainted  with  fweetnefs 
 and  complacence  :  Or  if  the  one  fhould  refufe  the 
 other  this  afliftance,  it  will  feel  fuch  a  want  it  felf,  that 
 it  will  be  forced  to  beg  that  which  it  doth  deny.  Buc 
 what  is  it,  I  befeech  you,  that  pairs  and  links  them  thus 
 together,  and  makes  them  do  this  mutual  fervice;  un- 
 lefs  it  be  the  Discretion  and  "judgement  which  the  Holy 
 man  recommended  to  you  i  This  fuperintends  over 
 all,  and  iflues  forth  her  directions  and  orders  to  them : 
 which  if  they  be  not  obeyed,  they  do  moft  hurt  where 
 we  intended  the  greateft  good;  and  they  run  to  the 
 borders  of  Vice,  when  we  defigned  the  higheft  de- 
 gree of  Vertue.  This  makes  a  fweet  Mixture  of  Faith 
 in  God  with  fear  of  our  felves ;  of  Godly  forrow  with 
 Spiritual  Joy  ;  of  innocence  with  prudence ;  of  low- 
 linefs  with  greatnefs  of  mind;  of  heavenly  minded- 
 nefs,  with  diligence  in  our  callings  •,  of  delight  in  God, 
 with  a  plcafure  in  our  friends,  and  thole  who  are 
 good.  It  teaches  us  to  difcourfe,  and  not  to  be  talka- 
 tive 5  to  be  filent,  but  not  melancholy;  to  be  con- 
 tent with  what  we  have,  but  not  be  idle  5  to  labour, 
 but  not  be  impatient-,  to  bear  a  dear  affection  to  our 
 Friends,  but  not  to  their  faults  •  to  reprove  others, 
 Ccc  -and 
 
278  Tl>e  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 and  not  incur  a  reproof  our  felves  by  undue  feverity 
 towards  them. 
 
 Enough,  faid  the  Pilgrim  ;  I  fee  fuch  need  of  this 
 Vertue,  that  you  may  be  confident  I  (hall  never  be 
 willing  to  be  without  its  company ,  But  truly  I  think 
 it  muft  be  your  Discretion  more  than  mine  own  that 
 will  be  my  fecurity  ;  for  I  have  been,  you  fee,  afflidted 
 with  fuch  contrary  paffions,  that  I  am  ready  to  wifti 
 that  I  had  none  at  all.  There  is  not  one  of  thofe  that 
 I  have  about  me,  but  it  is  fometimes  fuch  a  trouble  to 
 me,  that  I  mould  think  my  felf  more  happy  if  I  were 
 wholly  deprived  of  them.  They  are  fo  ftrong  and 
 violent,  fo  boiflerous  and  turbulent,  that  if  they  do 
 not  overtop  my  reafon,  yet  I  cannot  overcome  them 
 without  furtering  a  great  tumult  and  diforder.  What 
 mould  we  do  with  things  which  it  is  fo  hard  to  rule  *. 
 Were  it  not  better  to  difcharge  them  all,  fince  there 
 needs  more  difcretion  than  I  am  Matter  of  to  keep 
 them? 
 
 The  Good  man  was  a  little  troubled  to  hear  him 
 fpeak  after  this  fort,  and  askt  him  with  a  greater  quick- 
 nefs  than  he  was  wont  to  ufe.  Would  you  then  be 
 well  pleafed,  if  I  mould  bring  a  Sythe  and  mow  off 
 your  legs  *.  Had  you  rather  be  carried  than  go  upon 
 your  feet  <  The  poor  man  was  amazed  at  this  que- 
 ftion,  and  askt  him  what  he  meant.  My  meaning,  faid 
 the  Father,  is  plain  enough.  Your  paffions  are  no- 
 thing elfe  but  thofe  motions  of  your  foul  whereby  you 
 go  to  that  Good,  or  run  away  from  that  Evil,  which 
 your  underftanding  prefents  to  your  heart.  You  would 
 be  fo  far  from  being  happy  by  being  deprived  of  them^ 
 that  I  maintain  you  could  not  be  happy  ac  all  without 
 
 them. 
 
T7;e  Parable  of  'nk  Pilgrim.  }79 
 
 them.  A  tree  would  be  as  happy  as  you,  if  you  had 
 no  defire,  nor  love,  nor  hope,  nor  none  of  the  reft  of 
 their  company.  And  therefore  you  may  as  well  de- 
 fire  to  have  no  feet,  or  to  have  a  Dead  Patfie  fmice 
 your  loyns,  and  difab'e  you  to  move  •  as  wiih  to  have 
 nopaflions,  or  ro  have  them  fo  benummed  and  ftupi- 
 fied,  that  you  fhall  not  feel  them.  We  muft  not  pluck 
 out  our  eyes  for  fear  they  be  abufed  with  unworthy 
 fpe&acles  ;  nor  ftand  ftockftili  for  fear  of  falling  5  nor 
 alwayesftayat  home  becaufe  the  weather  may  prove 
 rainy.  Nay,  when  did  you  fee  any  excellent  Ver- 
 tue  which  was  not  accompanied  with  a  plentiful  por- 
 tion of  thefe  i  Or,  When  was  there  any  love,  or  cou- 
 rage, or  any  fuch  like  thing  in  a  noble  degree,  but 
 you  might  difcern  it  edged  with  no  fmall  paflionate- 
 nefs  of  fpirit  ?  And  do  not  think  that  our  paffions  are 
 of  little  ufe,  for  it  is  plain  they  are  good  for  more 
 purpofes  than  one.  There  is  at  lcaft  a  double  end  for 
 which  they  ferve.  They  frft  incite  and  difpofe  the  Soul 
 to  feck  thofe  things  which  are  good  and  neceffary  for 
 us:  and  then  [econdly*  they  fortifie  and  conferve  us  in 
 this  difpofition,  and  make  us  to  perfift  in  our  inclina- 
 tions to  thofe  things  which  are  profitable  for  us  5  the 
 thoughts  of  which  elfe  might  eafily  be  blotted  out. 
 They  ftir  you  up,  and  bring  you  to  that  good  which 
 objeds  it  felf  to  your  mind  5  and  then  they  imprefs 
 it  there,  and  caule  it  to  ftay  with  your  Soul.  For 
 you  cannot  but  ob.erve  that  thofe  things  which 
 move  you  with  any  paflion  when  you  fee  or  think 
 of  them,  do  (lick  longed  in  your  mind  :  and  thofe 
 with  which  you  are  not  affected,  are  but  little  remem- 
 bred. 
 
 Ali  your  bufinefs  then  is  ( and  in  that  you  muft  be- 
 Ccc  2  (low 
 
.go  The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 flow fome pains;  to  get  better  eyes  to  guide  you  in 
 your  goings,  and  nofcto  endeavour  that  you  may  not 
 ftiratall.     You  mutt  ftudy  I  mean  to  underftand  the 
 true  difference  between  good  and  evil,  to  be  able  to 
 judge  what  is  fit  for  you,  and  what  not  5  what  good 
 can  certainly  be  attained,  and  what  evil  avoided  •  and 
 what  is  quite  without  the  limits  of  our  power  :  and 
 then  how  ic  it  blameable  if  you  be  carried  with  a  great 
 paffion  to  the  one  and  from  the  other  i  Do  not  think 
 all  things  to  be  evil  which  the  World  calls  by  that 
 name :  nor  admire  the  goodnefs  of  any  thing  above 
 its  price;  nor  follow  that  zealoufly  which  you  are  in 
 doubt  whether  or  no  it  can  be  attained  5  and  then 
 your  paflions  will  be  fo  far  from  being  your  Matters., 
 that  in  fear  of  that  you  will  not  refrain  to  ufe  their  Ser- 
 vice.    And  if  you  (hould  chance  to  be  furprifed  with 
 a  fancy  of  fomc  evil  or  good  before  you  can  have  li- 
 berty to  difcourfe  the  true  nature  of  it ;  and  your  paf- 
 fions  hereby  become  very  ftrong  and  are  raifed  to  a 
 greater  height  than  you  would  have  them:  there  is 
 no  reafon  to  be  troubled  •,  for  none  can  prevent  thefe 
 fudden  aflaults,  nor  can  they  be  quell'd  without  fome 
 fcuffle  within.    If  you  can  conquer,  you  have  well  ac- 
 quitted your  felf.     And  that  will  be  attended  with 
 thofe  triumphs,  which  will  more  than  recompence  the 
 trouble  of  thofe  furious  and  rebellious  commotions. 
 You  will  not  think  thofe  things  bad,  without  which 
 there  could  not  be  fuch  a  brave  and  noble  thing  as 
 Victory  is. 
 
 Be  content  then,  I  befeech  you,  to  be  of  the  race  of 
 Jdam,  and  do  not  affc<ft  fome  higher  Original.    Go 
 not  about  to  deftroy  one  half  of  your  felf,  by  labour- 
 ing to  be  free  from  all  paflion.     For  they  that  under- 
 take 
 
77;e  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  s    j8i 
 
 take  this  (  as  hath  been  well  faid  by  thofe  before  us ) 
 inftead  of  making  a  good  Man,  do  only  raife  a  Statue. 
 In  order  to  make  a  man  wife,  and  live  in  peace,  they 
 turn  him  into  a  dead  and  infenfible  Image.  Thefe 
 kind  or  Images  ( fay  they  J  are  more  fuitable  for  the 
 ornaments  of  the  Porch,  than  for  the  ufes  of  life.  And 
 if  we  be  not  blind,  we  may  difcem  between  hardnefs 
 and  foftnefs,  a  middle  temperament,  which  is  called 
 folidity  and  firmnefs. 
 
 The  Pilgrim  was  fo  much  pleafed  with  thefe  words,  • 
 that  he 'could  fcarce  forbear  to  hugg  him  when  they 
 v  ere  ended.  And  his  paflions  having  found  fuch  a 
 rMendor  to  take  their  part,  were  ready  to  ferve  them- 
 felves  but  too  much  of  this  friendly  difcourfe  in  their 
 behalf.  I  love  you  infinitely,  faid  he,  clafping  about 
 his  neck,  or  to  fpeak  more  moderately,  I  love  you 
 above  all  earthly  things.  There  is  no  Mufick  can  be 
 fo  charming  to  me  as  your  words.  They  can  both 
 appeafe  my  raging  humours,  and  excite  me  out  of  my 
 dull  and  phlegmatick  inclinations.  You  are  my  In- 
 telligence, my  Tutelar  Angel,  the  Good  Genius  of 
 my  foul,  without  whom  I  think  I  (hould  either  have 
 no  Paflions,  or  Nothing  elfe.  Gobi,  I  befeech  you,', 
 to  oblige  me,  and  to  make  me,  if  it  be  poflSble,  more 
 in  love  with  you.  Be  not  weary  of  the  charge  you 
 have  undertaken  >  and  do  not  defpair  neither,  but 
 in  your  company  I  may  learn  more  Difcretion  to  go- 
 vern thofe  paflions,  which  I  fee  muft  not  be  rooted 
 out. 
 
 When  he  had  vented  this  paflion  of  love  as  much 
 as  he  pleafed,  and  was  capable  to  attend  to  fome  new 
 difcourfe ;  the  Father  thought  it  not  unfeafonable  to 
 
i8i  The  T arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 ask  him  if  be  did  not  begin  already  to  repent  of  all 
 thofe  imbraces  which  he  had  beftovved  upon  him. 
 Nay,  do  not  wonder,  purfued  he  at  this  demand;  for 
 I  do  not  intend  to  queftion  the  greatnefs  of  your  love, 
 but  by  what  I  have  obferved  I  believe  you  may  be 
 afraid'that  it  ought  not  to  be  fo  great. 1  have  long  taken 
 notice  that  you  are  fofcrupulous  as  not  to  dare  to  truft 
 your  own  toul,  nor  rely  upon  the  credit  of  your  fe- 
 vereft  reafon.  Though  you  think  it  is  impoflible,  but 
 that  there  fliould  be  fuch  motions  as  you  feel,  and 
 know  your  felf  to  be  of  fuch  a  complexion,  that  if  you 
 will  love  at  all,  it  muft  be  with  a  Paflionatenefs  andier- 
 vency  of  affecTion  5  ye*t  upon  the  next  ebullition  ( as  I 
 may  call  it;  in  your  foul,  you  are  ready  to  condemn 
 your  felf,  and  to  quit  thofe  Maxims  of  reafon  which 
 you  took  to  be  infallible.  I  know,  my  friend,  that  there 
 is  in  this  a  pardonable,  or  rather  a  commendable  nice- 
 nefs  of  foul,  a  delicacy  and  tendernefs  of  confeience, 
 which  would  not  in  the  leaft  offend  God  5  but  it  muft 
 be  confeffed  that  there  is  fomething  of  weaktiefs  and 
 unfetlednefsof  mind  initalfo,  which  dare  not  adhere 
 toitscwnCoRclufions.  We  are  not  to  let  a  fudden 
 fancy  drake  that  which  is  fo  well  and  rationally  efta- 
 bli flied  :  Or  rather  we  are  to  ponder  thofe  things  fo 
 long,  and  to  fettle  our  felves  fo  ftrongly  in  our  reafons, 
 which  aretheballaftof  our  fouls;  that  we  mall  never 
 deiert  them  upon  the  pretence  of  any  pious  fears,  left 
 we  mould  difpieafe  God.  To  fuffer  our  felves  to  love 
 any  perfon  that  is  amiable  very  much,  or  put  any  fuch 
 like  cafe  5  is  it  juftifiable,  or  is  it  not  i  If  not.  away 
 with  all  thefe  Paffions,  and  dig  them  up.  But  if  you  will 
 have  them  remain,  be  not  angry  that  they  grow  and 
 bloffome,  and  bring  forth  fruit,  and  produce  it  in  abun. 
 dance. 
 
 And 
 
 : 
 
Hie  Parable  of  the  Tilgrlm.  38$ 
 
 And  a  little  the  more  to  confirm  your  mind,  lee  me 
 fay  fomething  to  you  of  that  tendcrnefs  of  affection 
 which  I  obferve  in  yon  towards  a  vcrtuous  friend  ; 
 that  inclination  which  you  have  to  be  with  him,  and 
 efpccially  of  that  plealantnefs,  and  mirth  you  are  ape 
 to  yield  unto  in  the  company  of  thofe  you  love.  You 
 think  perhaps  that  this  is  too  much,  and  that  you 
 take  too  great  a  liberty  of  pleafing  your  felf.  Bat  I 
 befeech  you,  did  you  ever  obferve  any  great  vertue 
 in  thofe  cold  creatures  ;  or  rather  in  thofe  morofe 
 and  auftere  natures  who  judge  it  a  crime  to  love 
 their  friends  with  any  p.ifTion  ;  to  feel  a  joy  in  their 
 approach  ;  to  talk  pleafantly  in  their  company,  and 
 to  ufe  with  them  a  freedom  of  difcourfe?  Are  they 
 more  innocent  than  others,  becaufe  they  fay  Nothing? 
 muft  we  let  them  wear  the  title  of  vertue  above  their 
 neighbours,  meerly  becaufe  they  are  more  grave  and 
 folemn  i  Do  they  live  in  a  greater  fenfe  of  God  be- 
 caufe they  look  more  fowrely  i  Muft  we  think  there 
 is  no  piety  but  what  is  pale-faced  i  no  mortification 
 of  our  felves,  but  when  our  thorns  prick  other  folks  i 
 Truly  I  muft  needs  profefs  thacl  have  feen  both  men 
 and  women  of  this  rigid  humour,  whofe  very  looks  . 
 condemn  all  that  is  named  pleafure,  and  will  not  af- 
 ford you  fo  much  as  a  fmile  >  who,  I  am  confident, 
 are  not  half  fo  harmlefs  and  innocent  as  thofe  who 
 profefs  a  more  open  and  cheerful  converfation  with 
 their  friend?.  Some  of  thefe,  I  have  obferved,  are  fo 
 parfimonious  and  niggardly,  that  they  are  fordid  ra- 
 ther than  laving.  Others  are  fo  cur  ft  and  pee  villi 
 that  they  will  fnarl  on  the  leaft  occafion  that  crofTes 
 their  humour.  And  you  will  find  few  of  them  who 
 have  not  thefe  two  qualities  :  That  they  love  good 
 cheer  dearly,  and  are  glad  to  meet  with  a  Feaft.    Let 
 
 a  man 
 
384  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 a  man  eat  excefftvely,  fo  he  do  it  gravely,  it  is  no 
 offence.  And  fecondly,  that  they  love  to  cenfore 
 others,  and  to  pafs  harm  Judgement  upon  very  inno- 
 cent actions.  Nay,  which  is  molt  villanous,  there 
 are  (ome  of  them  who  will  condemn  you  for  that 
 good  chear  which  you  beftowed  upon  them,  and 
 which  they  themfelves  commended  in  the  eating. 
 They  will  fay  afterward,  that  you  love  oftentation, 
 and  that  half  of  it  might  have  been  fpared.  They 
 will  reprehend  this,  and  that  as  fuperfluous;  and  fay, 
 they  doubt  you  are  too  much  affected  to  the  Vanities 
 of  the  World.  Befides,  they  love  to  pry  into  every 
 bodies  fecrets.  They  would  know  what  is  done  in 
 all  their  neighbours  houfes  :  and  if  it  were  poffible, 
 they  would  look  into  their  very  Clofets.  And  what- 
 foever  they  pretend,  they  take  a  ftrange  pleafure  to 
 tattle  of  thefe  things  in  their  own  conventicles ;  and 
 fome  of  them  would  be  dumb,  if  they  were  not 
 provided  with  fuch  difcourfe  when  they  meet  toge- 
 ther. 
 
 But  to  fpeak  as  favourable  as  m£y "  be,  I  am  much 
 inclinable  to  this  opinion,  that  it  is  not  their  wifdom, 
 but  their  weaknefs  which  makes  them  referved.  They 
 are  not  ferious,  but  only  fowre$  not  mortified,  but 
 morofe.  It  is  the  falvagenefs  of  their  Natures  which 
 makes  them  hate  all  the  pleafantnefs  and  mirth  which 
 1  others  ufe  in  fociety.  They  have  not  made  themfelves 
 of  a  better  habit  than  their  neighbours,  but  were  bom 
 with  aworfedifpofition.  They  are  fo  leaven'd  with 
 i  a  fowre  humour,  that  they  have  no  room  to  entertain 
 any  of  the  fweet  and  delightfome  paffions.  You  think 
 they  hate  all  pleafures  out  of  Vertue,  but  it  is  rather 
 from  their  temper.  It  is  not  their  power,  but  their 
 j  inability. 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  <P\lgm.  n 
 
 inability.  They  diftafte  them  not  becaufe  they  have  a 
 Perfection  of  Judgement,  but  becaufe  they  wane  a  pa- 
 late. And  therefore  they  ought  not  to  chink  better 
 of  themfelves,  nor  be  thought  fo  by  others,  meerJy 
 becau.e  they  tafte  no  joy  in  that  which  pleafes  you  • 
 for  it  may  proceed  from  the  lumpifhnefs  of  their  bo- 
 dy, and  not  from  che  weighc  of  their  reafons;  they 
 may  owe  it  to  their  Parents,  and  not  to  their  own 
 choice.  Or  grant  that  they  do  deny  themfelves  in 
 thefe  thing?,  yet  it  is  very  well  if  it  be  not  to  take  a 
 licence  in  thofe  which  are  Worte.  For  many  debarr 
 themfelves  of  innocent  mirth,  and  granc  an  indul- 
 gence to  their  froward  and  peevifh  humours.  Pro- 
 vided they  be  grave,  they  think  they  may  be  difcour- 
 teous.  And  as  long  as  they  do  not  laugh,  they  will 
 take  the  liberty  to  bite. 
 
 I  am  not,  yon  fee  by  my  complexion,  inclined  much 
 to  mirth,  and  therefore  not  likely  out  of  any  natural 
 humour  to  be  their  enemy.  But  for  my  part  I  mud 
 tell  you  plainly,  that  I  both  diflike  and  fufpe<5r,  thefe 
 fullen  gravities.  The  people  of  a  chearful  difpofiti- 
 ©n  are  more  innocent  in  thought,  more  free  from  de- 
 sign, more  fimple  and  plain  hearted,  more  kind  and 
 ane&ionate,  more  free  from  fuperftition,  and  far  re- 
 moved from  hypocrilie :  Nay,  if  I  had  added  that  they 
 arc  more  modeft  too,  I  had  not  been  miftaken;  for 
 their  Modefty  is  in  the  heart ,  and  the  others  often- 
 times but  in  the  brow  and  exteriour  part.  But  1 
 think  it  is  time  to  difmifs  thefe  lowring  Counte- 
 nances whom  I  intend  not  to  reproach,  but  only  to 
 bereave  of  the  Opinion  and  reputation  of  being  own- 
 ers of  more  gooinefs  than  other  men.  They  are  to  be 
 pitied,  me-thinks,  who  ufe  their  reafon  to  make  them- 
 Ddd  fclves 
 
.  g  6  The  Tar  able  of  the  Tttgrinu 
 
 fclves  unreasonable.  Who  with  no  fraali  paflion  feem- 
 tome  to  fpeak  againft  all  our  paffions :  and  who  think 
 well  of  themfelves  for  that  which  is  their  fault,  or  their 
 imperfection.  But  whatfcever  kindnefs  any  may  have 
 forthem,  I  muft  acknowledge  my  felf to  havea  Spiric 
 more  tender,  I  am  not  afhamed  to  be  thought  a  man  of 
 fenfe,  and  that  have  fome  feeling  both  of  pain  and  of 
 pleafure;  Let  them  call,  if  they  lift,  all  our  paflions  in- 
 firmities, yet  ( as  a  wife  man  once  faid )  I  rather  choofe 
 to  enjoy  this  weaknefs,than  their  ftoutnefs  and  ftrength, 
 and  to  be  fick  of  this  difeafe,  than  to  have  their  kind 
 of  health. 
 
 CHAP.   XXXII. 
 
 How  they  light  upon  a  company  of fcledFriendswho  were 
 met  at  a  frugal^  hut  handjome  dinner.  The  commen- 
 dation of  Tempe  ranee.  Of the  plea fu  re  that  Frien  d> 
 enjoy  in  eating  together.  The  benefit  of  Friend(b/p, 
 with  the  Character  of  a  true  friend. 
 
 IN  fnch  difcourfe  as  this  they  paflfed  with  much  plea* 
 fure  a  long  ftage  of  their  journey.  At  the  end  of  which, 
 being  thirfty,  they  called  at  a  place  where  one  would 
 think  thatHeaven  defigned  to  give  thePilgrim  an  exam- 
 ple of  inocent  pleafure.For  here  they  found  a  knot  of  lo- 
 ving neighbours  at  a  frugal  dinner;  who  feemed  to  feaft 
 one  another  more  with  their  mutual  good  converfation, 
 than  with  any  other  chear  that  was  provided.  Their 
 eyes  told  that  they  were  very  merry  :  and  that  there 
 was  a  true  love  in  their  hearts,  their  counienance  and 
 free  converfe  did  plainly  decl^e.There  was  nothing  fu- 
 perfluous,bat  all  very  handfome  5  no  loofenefs  but  great 
 
 freedonit 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  f'igritn.  j  g^ 
 
 freedom  •,  no  noife  but  much  innocent  pleafure.  They 
 were  difpofcd  to  mirth  rather  than  joy;  to  chearful- 
 nefs  rather  than  jollity  ;  and  to  entertain  them- 
 felves  with  a  grateful  variety  rather  than  abundance 
 of  meat  and  drink.  This  fight  did  very  much  aflfeft 
 the  young  mans  hcarr,  and  when  they  were  gone,  he 
 began  to  fpeak  in  the  praife  of  Temperance,  and  to 
 commend  their  happinefs  who  could  contain  them- 
 felves  within  the  limits  of  Sobriety.  For  this,  faid 
 he,  is  the  Miftrefs  of  health,  and  alfo  of  wife  and  pure 
 thoughts.  It  refrefhes  the  Body,  and  doth  not  bur- 
 den the  mind.  It  cafts  down  neither  of  them  to  the 
 ground,  but  raifeth  both  to  their  juft  pitch  of  pleafure. 
 It  continues  us  free  and  fit  for  any  employment,  but 
 efpecially  that  of  thanking  God  for  all  his  bleffingf, 
 which  is  the  Nobleft  of  all.  It  leaves  us  capable  to 
 enjoy  the  things  of  the  other  world,  when  we  have 
 enjoyed  as  much'as  we  pleafe  of  this.  It  fuffers  rea- 
 fon  to  retain  its  throne,  or  rather  exalts  and  advances 
 its  Supremacy  every  day  to  a  greater  height.  Nay,  ic 
 preferves  our  tafte,  and  renders  our  palate  more  exadl 
 than  other  mens  are;  for  all  the  fenfes  I  perfwade  my 
 felf  when  ruled  by  reafon,  muft  needs  be  more  up- 
 right Judges,  than  when  that  is  abfent  and  fet.afide. 
 And  therefore  me- thinks,  there  is  nothing  more  pre- 
 ferves the  honour  and  reverence  that  is  due  to  our  na- 
 tures, than  this  Vcrtue.  It  maintains  the  Majefty  of 
 our  countenance,  the  luftre  of  our  eyes,  the  grace- 
 ful deportment  of  our  whole  Man.  Whereas  all  the 
 world  confeffes,  and  it  is  their  common  fpcech,  that  a 
 man  in  drink,  is  nothing  elfe  but  a  inan  difguifed.  He 
 looks  bafely  5  he  is  the  Icorn  of  children  and  fools  ;  he 
 is  pointed  and  laughed  at,  as  if  he  were  fome  monfter  ; 
 heisthe(portandmerrimenc  even  of  thofe  who  havej 
 Ddd2  thus1 
 
■-  *  %  The  f  arable  of  the  PilgrinL 
 
 thus  difrobed  him  of  himfclf.    And  as  for  them  whofe  ■ 
 brains  are  fo  ftrong ,   that  they  have  overcome  him, . 
 and  think  it  an  honour  to  be  able  to  hold  more  than 
 the  reft  of  their  fellows  ;   this  glory  is  their  (hame. . 
 They  are  the  Vermineof  the  Earth  who  live  to  con- 
 fume  the  goods  of  others,   and  to  wafte  the  patrimony 
 of  the  poor.     And  when  they  brag  of  their  Victories, 
 they  are  fo  filly,  as  not  to  remember  what  one  of  the 
 Philofophers  faith,   that  they  are  overcome  by  the 
 Hogfhead  which  is  far  more  capacious  than  themfelves. 
 Nay,  I  cannot  but  think  thole  people  who  know  no 
 pleafure  but  high  fare,  the  joy  of  whofe  life  depends 
 upon  full  Tables,  and  as  full  bellies,  who  love  no- 
 thing likeFeafts,  and  would  have  them  as  fumptuous 
 as  Sacrifices  5  to  be  a  fort  of  creatures  much  inferiour 
 to  fome  Beads  5.  who,  though  they  are  not  capable  to 
 govern  themfelves,  yet  are  ruled  by  us,    and  rendred.. 
 ferviceable  and  profitable  to  the  worW.    But  thefe  are 
 good  for  nothing  but  only  to  devour ;   and  commonly . 
 they  follow  this  trade  fo  long  that  they  devour  them- 
 felves, and  all  that  belongs  unto  them. 
 
 No  doubt,  faid  the  good  Father,  (who  here  thought 
 fit  to  interrupt  him)  the  praifes  which  you  beftow 
 upon  Temperance  are  very  juft ,  and  you  can  never 
 commend  it  to  excefs.  Which  procures  me  there- 
 fore the  greater  grief,  when  I  fee  fo  few  in  the  World 
 who  live  according  to  the  rules  of  this  Vertue.  Their 
 number  is  very  fmall  who  are  not  corrupted  with  the. 
 love  of  thefe  fenfual  pleafures.  Though  they  do  not 
 fall  into  fuch  high  debauches  as  you  fpeak  of,  not 
 drinking  as  if  they  were  in  a  perpetual  f eavor ,  nor 
 cuing  as  if  they  were  laying  in  provifion  fox  a  long 
 Siege:  (  which  methinks  is  a  good  description  which 
 
 I  have  - 
 
the  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim]  .    - 
 
 I  heard  have  fome  give  of  their  excels}  yet  thty  are 
 not  many  who   meafurc  their  meals  by  their  needs  > 
 and  they  are  not  to  be  told  who  are  Bibbers  of  Wine, 
 and  love  to  fit  long  at  compotations,    and  defign  to 
 make  provifion  for  the  flefh,   that  they  may  fulfil  the 
 Ms  thereof.     Nay,    which  is  faddeft  of  all,   there 
 are  too  many  of  thofe  who  profefs  to  be  Religious, 
 whofe  God  is  their  belly.     They  love  Feafts,   and 
 hunt  after  good  chear.     And  if  it  be  but  fandi- 
 fied  with  a  Sermon ,    Gourmandife  is  innocent  in 
 their  account.    Like  fome  naughty  Chriftians  in  the 
 Elder  times  whom  I  mentioned  before,  who  thought 
 they  might  caroufeand  drink  as  long  as  they  would,  , 
 fo  they  did  but  fit  with  a  mortified  face  upon  the  Mar- 
 tyrs Tombs.    And  it  were  fome  comfort  if  their  fin 
 ended  here ;   but  their  Intemperance  is  the  Mother  and 
 faithful  Parent  of  many  other  Vices.     A.  long  train  of 
 fins  as  well  as  difeafes  waits  upon  this,  and  follows  it 
 juft  at  the  heels.     It  both  brings  in,  and  it  uncovers 
 every  other  evil  inclination.  It  removes  that  Modefty, 
 which  fhnds  more  ia  the  way  than  anything  elfcof 
 moft  mens  bad  endeavours.    It  baniihes  all  fliame,  fo 
 that  there  is  nothing  left  to  oppofe  any  wickednefs. 
 Who  hath  woe,  who  hath  forrow,  who  hath  conten- 
 tion,  who  hath  babling,   who  hath  wounds  withouc 
 caufe  ?  They  that  tarry  long  at  Wine,  they  that  go  to 
 feek  mixt  Wine ;  as  the  Wife  man  tells  us.     Whatfo- 
 everevil  difpofuions  are  in  the  mind,  then  they  take 
 opportunity  to  fhew  themfelves.     Malice  is  brought 
 koto  open  fnew,  and  fpits  its  venome.    The  proud  fpirit 
 is  lay'd  bare,    and  fecks  no  pretence  for  its  infolence. 
 The  furious  man  is  left  naked  of  all  his  guards,   and  . 
 cares  not  whom  he  rnifchiefs.     The  luftful  man  un- 
 C  jvers  himfelf,   and  fcarce  waits  for  fecrefje  to  fulfil  his 
 
 defires. 
 
ip  o  Tk  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim". 
 
 defires.     And  truly  I  wifh  I  could  not  fay,  that  thi* 
 jW/?  which  is  the  mod  filthy  of  all,    was  not  the  com- 
 mon iiTue  of  that  of  which  we  fpeak.   There  is  more  of 
 this  uncleannefs  in  the  world  than  you  imagine.     They 
 that  wear  the  countenance  of  Religious  people  are 
 led,  I  allure  you,  by  their  Cups  to  the  Brothel  houfes, 
 and  pafs  from  the  Taverns  to  the  Stews.    So  it  was  oF 
 Old,  and  the  fame  Villany  continues  ftill  5  that  many 
 turn  the  Grace  of  God  into  lafcivioufnefs.     And  if  you 
 would  know  who  they  are,  the  fame  Apoftle  tells  you 
 that  they  were  fuch  as  feafting  with  others,   did  feed 
 themfelves  without  fear.     And  fo  St.  Peter  alfo  lets  us 
 2?ct.2.ii,H.  know,  that  they  who  accounted  it  pleafure  to  riot  in  the 
 day-time  (in  the  clear  light  of  the  GofpelJ  had  eyes  full 
 of  adultery,  and  could  not  ceafe from  fin.  But  I  will  leave 
 thefemen,  who  are  gone  in  the  way  of  the  falfe  Pro- 
 phet Balaam,   who  taught  the  Children  of  ifrael  to 
 commit  fornication.  Only  let  me  leave  thofe  words  of 
 the  Apoftle  with  them  5   They  are  wells  without  water ■,' 
 Clouds  that  are  carried  with  a  tempefi,  to  whom  the  miji 
 of  darknefs  is  reserved  for  ever.     Nor  will  I  fay  any 
 more  of  the  reft  of  thofe  fins  which  attend  upon  an 
 intemperate  life,  which  makes  a  mans  Soul  like  a  piece 
 of  low  ground,  which  by  reafon  of  abundance  of  wet, 
 brings  forth  nothing  but  Frogs,  and  Worms,  and  Ad- 
 ders, all  manner  of  wickednefs,   which  either  diflic- 
 nours  God,  or  hurts  our  felves  and  our  neighbour's.     I 
 will  rather  turn  my  eyes  to  a  more  pleafant  fight,  and 
 comfort  them  with  the  remembrance  of  thofe  good 
 men  whom  we  faw  juft  now  fo  happily  met  together. 
 And  me  thinks  it  is  a  very  great  felicity  in  this  falfe 
 World,   to  find  but  one  face  among  fo  many  Vizors ; 
 and  to  be  able  to  lay  hold  on  fomething  that  hath 
 «uth  and  fubftance  in  it  among  fo  many  fliadows. 
 
 Having 
 
 ft?e:.2. 14. 
 
Tl?e  Parable  of  the  Tilgrim.  ip  i 
 
 Having  found  therefore  a  little  number  of  fericuily 
 ibber  pcrfons,  it  cannot  but  make  me  rejoyce  the  more 
 that  Temperance  hath  fome  Clients^  and  that  me  is 
 not  forfaken  of  all  her  followers. 
 
 But  though  this  be  very  true,  that  we  do  defervedly 
 Praile  this  Venue,  and  ail  her  Servants  •  Yet  me- thinks 
 you  mould  have  obferved  fome  thing  elfe  at  that  meet- 
 ing, which  is  worthy  of  your  commendation.  Did  not 
 the  very  meeting  it  ielf  kern  a  very  comely  light  i  And 
 were  you  not  glad  to  behold  fo  many  kind  neighbours 
 aflcmblcd  at  that  decent  entertainment  ?  To  me  there  is 
 not  a  more  agreeable  fpedtacle,than  a  company  of  felect 
 friends,  vacant  of  bufinefs,  and  full  of  chearfulnefs,  met 
 together  at  one  table.  And  I  cannot  imagine  that  a  man 
 who  underftands  pleafure,  can  wi(h  any  equal  to  this, 
 that  he  might  make  one  in  fuch  a  happy  fociety.  You 
 may  think  indeed  that  it  is  fufficient  to  cur  delight,  if 
 we  can  meet  our  friends  any  where :  But  I  am  of  the 
 mind  that  the  pleafure  is  redoubled,  when  they  refrefh 
 their  bodies  and  their  minds  both  together.  I  hate 
 indeed  your  great  Feafts  where  perlbns  that  never 
 (aw  one  the  other  before,  nor  ever  /hall  perhaps  again, 
 are  mixt  together ;  where  there  is  much  talk,  -and  little 
 or  no  difcourfe:  But  thefe  Love-  Feafts  me-  thinks  do  call 
 to  my  mind  the  days  of  Innocence,  and  make  me  wifli 
 for  nothing,  when  1  enjoy  them,  but  only  fuch  another 
 pleafure.  Here  we  know  that  we  pledge  an  hearty 
 Love,  when  a  man  prefents  his  kindnefs  to  us.  Our  mind 
 is  entertained  with  a  greater  variety,  than  the  body 
 enjoys.  The  very  tafte  of  our  meat  is  exalted  by 
 the  inward  delight  which  we  feel  in  our  hearts.  And 
 whatfoeverfatisfacYionwe  then  receive,  we  impart  as 
 much  to  thofe  that  gave  ir.    The  weak  and  languifh- 
 
TkeTai-ableofthefilg-im: 
 ing  appetite  is  excited  by  the  fight  of  friends,  and  the 
 pka'ure  of  their  difcourfe:  and  the  difcourfe  flows 
 more  freely  by  the  moderate  fatisfaction  of  our  appe- 
 tite. Our  dull  fpirits  are  raifed  by  communication 
 with  our  friends ;  and  that  Communication  grows 
 more  lively  by  the  exaltation  of  our  fpirits.  Or  if  you 
 pleafe  fo  to  confider  it ;  Friends  never  talk  with  greater 
 wit,  and  more  freedom,  than  when  they  take  an  inno- 
 cent repaft  together  ;  and  their  meat  never  doth  their 
 bodies  more  good,  than  when  this  fweet  converfation 
 is  the  fauce  for  it. 
 
 Indeed  faid  the  Pilgrim,  I  had  forgot  to  reflect  up- 
 on that  part  of  thofe  good  mens  fatisfa&ion  :  which  I 
 take  to  be  fo  great,  and  yet  fo  harmlefs  withal,  that  I 
 mail  ever  be  a  friend  of  fuch  pleafures,  and  permit  my 
 felf  to  be  merry  in  fuch  worthy  company.  They  have 
 convinced  me  that  I  ought  not  to  affect  a  fad  brow, 
 and  an  heavy  countenance.  They  have  reconciled  me 
 to  fmiles  and  mirth.  And  Provided  they  will  keep 
 within  fuch  bounds,  I  will  neverquarrel  with  my  paf- 
 fions  any  more.  But  there  is  none  that  I  have  a  greater 
 kindnefsfcr,than  that  of  Love :  thep leafures  of  which, 
 as  it  felf  acquaints  me  withal,  fothe  ufefulnefs  of  it 
 thofe  excellent  men  have  alfo  taught  me. 
 
 And,  not  to  part  fo  foon  from  fo  good  a  meeting,  I 
 muft  let  you  know  that  they  underftood  afterward,  a 
 great  part  of  the  difcourfe  at  that  Table  was  about 
 friend/hip,  and  the  happinefs  of  him  that  had  found  a 
 faithful  friend.  Which  when  it  was  repeated  to  him 
 by  one  that  was  there,  it  was  a  great  means  of  con- 
 firming this  affection  in  our  Pilgrim,  and  making  him 
 rejoycein  his  advantageous  choice.   My  memory  is  not 
 
 fo 
 
The  T arable  of  the  THgrim.  39? 
 
 Co  good  .is  to  carry  away  all  that  I  heard  was  faid  on 
 this  argument,  but  it  begun  with  a  commendation  of 
 that  laying  of  theSjn  or  Sirach,  A  faithful  friend  u  zeclus6. 
 aflrong  defence :  and  he  that  hdth  found  fuch  an  oncy  1+'-I5»  l  ' 
 bith  found  a  Treafure,  Nothing  doth  countervail  a  faith- 
 ful friend,  and  his  excellency  is  unvaluable.  A  faithful 
 friend  is  the  Medicine  of  Life,  and  they  that  fear  the 
 Lord  fp  all  find  him.  He  (peaks  like  an  Oracle,  faid  one 
 of  the  company,  for  a  friend  me-thinks  is  the  oniy  uni- 
 verfal  Medicine  againft  all  the  evils  of  this  pretent  life  : 
 And  with  your  permiflion  I  will  make  a  comment  up- 
 on this  Aphorifm?  or  rather  I  will  recite  you  the 
 words  of  a  good  Author,  who,  though  I  believe  he  ne- 
 ver faw  him,  hath  gloffed  me-thinks  moft  excellently 
 on  the  Text  of  that  wife  Hebrew.  To  which  when 
 they  had  all  moft  willingly  accorded,  he  thus  pro-' 
 ceeded. 
 
 There  is  no  Remedy  in  the  World,  faith  he \  equal  to  JJi'J' ^ 
 that  of  a  friend;  for  other  Medicines  are  profitable  to 
 the  fick^and  fuperfuous  to  thoje  who  areiin  health;  but  he 
 is  neceffaryto  both.  He  fupplies  the  wants  of  Poverty. 
 He  adds  a  brightness  to  our  glory  ;  and  he  ob  [cures  and 
 hides  cur  Ignominy.  This  one  thin gleff ens  the  difficulty  of 
 thofe  that  are  trouble  feme  to  us  ;  andmcreafes  the  happi- 
 ttefs  which  all  cur  enjoyments  bring  us.  ~Jt  makes  evil 
 things  little^  and  good  things  great.  By  this  facet  focie- 
 ty  our  griefs  are  divided,  and  all  our  Joys  are  doubled. 
 What  c a' amity  is  not  intolerable  without  afrieud?'  And 
 what  felicity  u  not  ungrateful  if  we  have  none  to  lb  are 
 with  hs  in  it  ?  we  fuffer  not  jo  much  when  we  have  feme 
 to  condole  and  fuffer  with  us  :  And  we  rejofce  the  niorc 
 when  our  felicity  gives  a  pie  a  fur  e  not  only  to  our  f elves 
 but  to  others  a/fo.  if  fulitude  and  want  of  company  be  fo 
 E  e  e  borrid> 
 
>p4  ^x  Pvdle  of  the  Vtlgrlm. 
 
 horrid,  fo  dreadful  a  thing  ;  it  is  not  to  be  under fiood  af 
 the  rv  ant  of  men,  but  of  the  want  of  Friends.  For  it  is 
 a  good  Solitude,  not  to  dwell  with  thofe  that  do  not  love 
 us :  and  a  man  would  chufefuch  an  Hermitage  where  he 
 might  not  be  troubled  with  them  who  bear  no  benevolous 
 affection  to  him.  But  for  my  part  I  cannot  think  it  to  be 
 an  happincfs  which  hath  no  friend  to  participate  in  its 
 plea fur es.  A  man  may  more  eafily  bear  the  hardeflCalami- 
 ty  with  his  Friendjhan  the  gre ate ft felicity  alone.  So  that 
 I  judge  him  the  mod  miferable  who  in  his  calamity 
 hath  many  to  infult  over  him  *  and  in  his  felicity  none 
 to  tafte  of  his  joys,  and  rejoyce  with  him.  who  is 
 there  more  fpeedy  inhis  fuccours  than  a  Friend?  whofe 
 praife  is  fweeter  to  us  tha  n  his  ?  And  by  whom  is  Truth 
 fpoken  with  lefs  grief  than  byfuch  a  mouth}  what  Cajlle, 
 what  Bulwark^  what  Arms  and  weapons,  are  more  po- 
 tent tofecure  us,  than  the  cufiody  ofthofe  who  are  well 
 affected  to  us  ?  For  in  truth,  fo  many  Friends  as  a  man 
 hath  gained,  with  fo  many  eyes  doth  he  fee,  with  fo  ma- 
 ny ears  doth  he  hear,  aud  with  fo  many  under fiandings 
 doth  he  think  of  that  which  u profit able for  him.  it  is  all 
 one  as  if  Godhad given  to  a  man  in  one  body <sa great  ma- 
 ny Sottish  every  one  of  which  do  tenderly  confult  and  care 
 for  his  good.  Nay,  if  our  eyes,  and  our  tongue,  and  our 
 hands  are  much  to  be  prized,  not  only  for  the  delights  of 
 Life,  but  that  we  may  live  5  Friends  are  not  only  as  pro- 
 fit able,  but  more  necefjary  than  thefe.  For  pur  eyes  can 
 fcarce  fee  thofe  things  which  are  under  your  feet  ;  but  by 
 our  Friends  we  may  fee  thofe  things  which  are  in  the  far - 
 therrno ft  parts  of  the  earth.  By  our  ears  we  hear  only  the 
 things  that  are  very  near  us  •  but  by  our  Friends  we  hear 
 them  which  an  mofi  remote :  The  tongue  fignifies  only  to 
 thofe  who  areprefent,  and  with  the  hands,  the  ftrongefl 
 man  can  do  no  more  than  two  or  three  are  able :   but  by 
 
 Friend* 
 
The  ¥  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  39  j 
 
 friends  we  may  talk  with  all  and  be  able  to  effect  innu- 
 merable things ,  for  they  will  be  fure  to  [peak  and  do 
 for  us  all  that  which  is  conducible  to  our  good.  But 
 that  which  u  mojl  incredible  is,  that  when  a  man  hath 
 friends,  he  may  do  many  things  at  the  Jame  time,  and 
 confult  about  divers  affairs  at  once  ;  and  fee  and  hear  ; 
 nay  msre  than  that, he  maybe  in  many  places  at  the  fame 
 moment.  Hispleafures  are  multiplied,  as  he  multiplies 
 his  friends ;  for  all  that  delights  them,  touches  him 
 with  a  fenfe  of  joy  as  much  as  what  concerns  himfelf.  if 
 he  give  any  thing  to  them,  it  re  Joyces  lAm  as  much  as  if 
 he  had  gained  a  great  deal  of  wealth,  if  he  receive  any 
 thing,  it  re  Joyces  him  too,  becaufe  his  friends  are  pie  a  fed. 
 Though  he  be  very  fond  of  his  kindred,  yet  he  thinks 
 friendfbip  a  greater  good,  than  Confanguinity  ;for  with- 
 out any  kindred  Between  men  this  is  ajlricl  and  profita- 
 ble relation  5  for  without  this  there  is  no  comfort  at  all 
 in  the greatefl  nexrnefs  of  blood. 
 
 And  therefore  we  may  well  conclude  with  our  wife 
 man,  that  this  u  the  greatefl  treafure,  thefirongefl  de- 
 fence, and  invaluable  Jewel,  the  vcryBxlfome,  an d  com- 
 fort and  only  pre  ferver  of  our  life.  A  man  is  fear ce 
 himfelf  till  he  have  found  a  friend,  or  at  leajl  he  is  but 
 half  a  man.  For  as  another  wife  man  frith,  Nuptiat 
 love  produces  men,  but  it  u  friendly  love  which  gives 
 them  perfection.  It  may  well  be  called  the  fait  andfea- 
 foning  of  our  Pilgrimage,  without  this,  life  it  fe  If  would 
 be  unfavoury,  and  all  the  pie a fure s  of  it  in  ftp  id.  It  is 
 the  mojl  agreeable  pie  a  fure  that  a  perfon  of  Vert  ue  can 
 enfoj.  it  is  an  holy,  chafl  and  innocent  pleafure :  a 
 Voluptuoufnefs  which  rifeth  higher  than  fenfe,  and  feeks 
 the  Juperiour  part.  It  acls  on  the  mind  without  caufing  it 
 to  fuffer  a  change.  It  moves  it  with  fo  much  fweet- 
 Ete  2  nefs% 
 
,„5  The?  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 ne[s,  that  it  (lirs  not  ont  of  its  [eat.     Or  it  ravijhes  it 
 from  it  Jelf,  only  to  remove  it  to  a  better  place. 
 
 .  W  hen  he  had  done,  they  all  agreed  he  did  illuftrarc 
 his  Author  as  nuch  as  tie  had  done  the  Son  of  Struck. 
 Voi  laid  they,  we  have  read  now  this  Writer  by  the 
 benefit  of  your  eyes;  and  you  have  fo  happily  tran- 
 fported  us  cut  ot  our  felves,  that  we  find  indeed  we 
 are  better  than  where  we  were  before.  But  yet,  ad- 
 ded another,  That  wife  man  you  fpoke  of,  gives  us 
 this  advice  in  the  fame  place,  //  thouwouldfl  get  a, 
 friend,  prove  him  firft^  andbe  not  hajly  to  credit  him. 
 For  one  man  is  a  friend  for  his  oven  occafon,  and  rvill 
 not  abide  in  the  day  of  trouble.  Some  friends  will  be 
 thy  companions  at  thy  table;  but  in  the  time  of  affliction 
 they  will  not  con  tinue.  In  thy  profpe  rity  they  will  be  as 
 thy  [elf)  and  will  be  holdover  thy  [ervants.  But  if  thou 
 be  brought  lowy  they  will  be  againjl  thee,  or  hide  them- 
 [elves from  thee.  Separate  thy  [elf from  thine  enemies, 
 and  take  heed  of  thy  friends.  How  therefore  fhill 
 we  know  the  faithful  friend  whom  he  fo  much  praifes ; 
 or  by  what  Marks  (hall  we  diftinguilh  him  from  thefe 
 pretenders?  I  would  be  loth  to  flay  till  the  day  of 
 trouble  before  I  know  thefe  counterfeit  Lovers,  and 
 would  be  glad  to  impart  my  joys  to  one  that  deferves 
 them.  It  is  a  very,  neceffary  queftion  faid  a  Third, 
 and  therefore  with  your  confent  I  will  undertake  his 
 Character,  oratleafthis  defcription.  You  (hall  not 
 only  have  our  leave,  faith  a  Fourth  in  the  name  of  the 
 reft,  but  our  thanks ;  which  we  give  you  beforehand 
 for-  fo  good  an  offer.  The  World  is  full  of  falfehearted 
 friends.  Towns  and  Kingdoms  are  made  up  of  thefe 
 honeft  kind  of  Cheats,  as  one  whom  you  know  is 
 wont  to  call  them.    Into  whacfoever  place  you  come, 
 
 you 
 
The  Titrable cfthe Tilgim.  5 9 7- 
 
 you  Will  find  very  little  cf  that  which  you  have 
 brought  hither :  I  mean  aftlclion  without  intercft  > 
 fidelity  without  flain  5  with  ali  the  goednefs  and  i 1  cc- 
 dome  of  the  Age  of  Innocence.  There  are  manv, 
 faith  he,  that  had  rather  lofe  an  hundred  Fricncs, 
 than  fo  many  Crowns.  They  value  them  no  more, 
 than  they  do  men  in  Turkic  that  are  to  be  fold.  Ai,d  I 
 know  feme  that  would  cafily  forgo  their  mod  dear 
 aod  faithful  Intimates  at  the  rate  of  ten  or  twenty 
 pound  a  piece.  Men  they  are  Cif  we  honour  them 
 r.ot  too  much  with  that  name)  who  as  the  Wife 
 Man  you  ipoke  of  fuggeftsto  us,  come  but  to  drink, 
 and  return  back  again  when  the  Bottles  are  empty. 
 And  therefore  it  will  oblige  us  very  much  if  you  will 
 be  at  the  pains  to  let  us  know  the  qualities  of  a  man 
 that  is  fit  to  be  admitted  into  our  Society.  , 
 
 AVricndthen-,  replyedhe^  that  is  worthy  of  .our  bo- 
 fvme  love,  is  a  per jon  that  u  equally  good  and  intelli- 
 gent :  That  can  neither  deceive ,  nor  cafily  be  deceived: 
 that  can  feldome  do  til  out  of  rvcaknefs,  and  never  out 
 of  deftgn.  He  is  one  that  willferve  you  without  vanity, 
 but  veith  all  imaginable  zeal ;  without  any  int ere jl,  but 
 •with  the  cxactef  care  and  diligence*.  Th/tt  will  engage 
 himfelf  mofi  pafficnately  in  your  defence  when  you  are 
 abfent,  or  unfortunate,  or  dead.  That  will  follow 'you 
 with  his  love  to  the  other  worlds  and  ferve  thofe  when 
 you  are  dead  whom  you  would  have  ferved  if  you  had  been 
 aliie.  He  ps  one  that  never  conceals  hit  own  {ccretfrom 
 you,  nor  reveals  yours  to  others.  That  will  freely  re- 
 trove  you,  and  never  backbite  other  men.  That  can 
 fee  your  faults,  and  yet eafily  pardon  them.  And  that 
 as  readily  acknowledges  merit,  as  he  efpies  and  par  don v 
 fa  nits.     That  cannot  tell  how  to  do  any  thing  without 
 
 your 
 
3^8  The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 your  knowledge ytnlefs  it  be  a  good  turn. That  would  have 
 you  fee  all  be  doth3  except  the  friendly  offices  which  he  is 
 every  where  rendring  to  you.  That  loves  to  entertain  yon 
 witbpleajant  difcourfe,  but  borvfoever  with  wholej'ome 
 and  profitable.  That  will  follow  you  to  all  dangers  , 
 though  to  no  fins.  That  can  vary  perhaps  with  your  hu- 
 mour, but  not  with  your  for  tune.  Th.it  can  make  you 
 afeafi  where  there  is  no  good  cbear  be  fides  him  [elf. That 
 can  ferve  as  fauce  to  excite  your  appetite,  andfave  yon 
 the  charge  of  Wine  to  exhilarate  your  fpir  its.  That  will 
 divert  you,  without  the  prejudice  or  offence  of  any  body 
 elfe.  That  will  make  you  more  fenfible  of  his  tender- 
 nefs  by  [mall  things,  than  others  can  do  by  greater  fer- 
 
 He  is  one  that  thinks  atl  the  prat fes  of  others  importune 
 if  you  complain.  To  whom  even  hit  own  merit  feems  odi- 
 ous, if  it  receive  not  pur  approbation.  One  that  loves  no 
 pleafure  fo  much  as  complacence  to  you.  To  whom  all  places 
 a.re  alike,  foyou  be  not  ab[ent.  He  can  deny  himfelfany 
 thing  and  his  friend  nothing.  He  can  bear  himfelf  com- 
 pany in  Solitude^  but  is  never  weary  of  the  company  of 
 thofe  he  loves.  He  hath  afenfe  of honour  ,equal  to  his  fen fe 
 of  love.  He  bath  no  vulgar  thoughts,  butyetjloops  to  the 
 mofl  vulgar  actions  for  the  (ervice  of  his  friend.  He  hath 
 agreat  and  generous  mind,but  omits  not  the  trifles  which 
 will  pie  afe  him.  He  will  negletf  his  own  bufinefs  to  do  his. 
 He  will  receive  a  kindnefs  as  well  as  do  it:  and  is  not  more 
 willing  to  oblige  than  to  be  obliged.  He  is  thankful  and 
 acknowledging  for  the  fmallefi  offices  of  love ;  andfiudies 
 to  repay  it  with  thegreatefl.He  is  popped  of  all  the  Ver- 
 tuesybut  makes  afhovp  of  none.  He  loves  decency  without 
 affeel  at  ion,generofity  without  pride,  courtefie  without  ce- 
 remony,and  firi  if  nefs  without  fever ity.    His  morality  if 
 
 void 
 
The  farahle  of  the  Pilgrim.  399 
 
 v  old  of  a  11  rudenefs  •  his  ferioufnefs gives  no  difguft,  bis 
 file nee  is  withvut  Julienne fs  5  and  his  humility  without 
 bafenefs  and  meannefs  of  Jpirjt,  He  hath  a  World  of  good 
 qualities,  and  mode  fly  is  Super iour  to  them  all.  For  he  is 
 jjbamefae'd  without  ignorance, and  blujhes  becaufc  you  fee 
 be  knows  fo  much.He  delights  not  to praife  that  in  others 
 wherein  be  ex  cells  him  (elf.  Nor  is  be  fparing  there  of  his 
 commendations,where  his  own  defects  will  leave  him  no 
 title  to  tfie  application.He  can  bide  any  thing  better  than 
 his  love.  He  can  do  any  thing  better  than  deny  your  re- 
 que  (Is.  He  can  endure  any  thing  with  more  eafe  than  to 
 be  feparated from  your  Society,  when  you  are  with  htmr 
 you  are  Jl til  alone,  when youadvife with  him ,  it  is  with 
 your  fe  If.  He  hath  all  things  in  common  with  you,  but 
 chiefly  adverftty.  He  and  his  friend  have  but  one  willy 
 though  they  may  have  different  underftandings.  And  in- 
 deed this  one  quality  is  it  which  I  like  in  a  friend  above 
 all  the  reft,  viz.  Afweet  and  innocent  comply ancetwhich 
 is  the  cement  of  love  and  the  fecret  charm  of  Society. This 
 rare  difpofltion  makes  him  to  pie  a  feu*  without  flatter yz 
 and  to  tye  himfelfto  us  without  the  lofs  of  liberty.  It  ac- 
 cords to  our  defires  without  oppofing  reafon ;  gives  way  to 
 our  weaknefs  without  encreafing  andcherifbing  of  it:  ac- 
 commodates it  (elf  to  our  humour  under  the  generous  pro- 
 feffion  of  free  dome :  fervC'S  us  in  all  things  it  can, without 
 being  captivated  to  any.  There  is  nothing  hafer  indeed 
 than  comply ance  when  it  is  feparated 'from  other  re rtues* 
 Nothing  more  offenfive  to  thofe  on  whom  it  is  beftowedjf 
 they  have  any  noble  refentments  in  them ;  than  when  it 
 is  fo  fervile  as  to  fubjecJ  the  underflanding  and  enthrall 
 the  reafon  to  their  defires.  But  being  to  attend  upon  thofe 
 other  good  qualities  which  I  have  require  din  my  friend? 
 andferving  always  with  a  liberty  of  mind  $  as  there  is 
 nothing  elfe  offends  any  body  lefsyfo  nothing  more  fweetens 
 
 a-nuns 
 
400  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 a  fn. ins  own  difpofition,  or  more  dt lights  and  gratifies 
 that  of  hit  friends.  It  bends  it  [elf  to  profit  others  and 
 not  only  to  pieafe.  Itfiudies  to  advantage  them  with  the 
 great  eft  civility.  It  fubdues  their  pa fjions  with  the  grea- 
 teft  qttietnefs.lt  reduces  them  to  themfclves  without  vio- 
 lence. Itfioops  unto  them  that  it  may  lift  them  tip,  it  con- 
 defcends  that  they  may  be  recovered.  Itfajbions  it  [elf 
 to  what  they  are,  that  they  may  be  what  they  ought,  'it 
 yields  to  their  anger  that  it  may  disarm  them  op  it.  It 
 grants  their  de fires  that  it  may  take  them  aw  ay. It  makes 
 a  man  agree  to  others  not  that  they  may  comply  with  him 
 again j  but  comply  with  reafon. 
 
 In  (hort  therefore fhe  mttft  be  a  vert  now  perfon^we  all 
 grant  >whom  we  chufefor  our  friend.  For  he  is  not  capa- 
 ble to  be  a  friend  to  us,  who  is  not  a  friend  to  himfelf.  He 
 can  never  accord  well  with  another,  who  feels  an  inte- 
 fline  war  continually  in  his  own  brc  aft. But  yet  allvertu- 
 vusperfons  do  not  fo  re  fumble  each  the  other y  as  to  jay  n  to- 
 gether in  that  ft  rift  Union  which  bears  the  name  of 
 Friendjhip: and  therefore  he  is  fit  to  be  received  into  this 
 relation  who  be  fides  the  qualities  common  to  allgoodmcn, 
 doth  Symbolize  with  us  in  his  humours  and  inclinations, 
 when  you  meet  with  fuch  a  man  as  anjwers  this  defcripti- 
 on,mali£  much  of  him  and  place  a  great  confidence  in  him. 
 To  diftruft  him  is  the  highefl  fin  yon  can  commit  againfl 
 him.  To  be  fufpicicus  of  the  truth  of  what  he  faith  is  the 
 mofl  notorious  breach  of  the  bond  of  your  friendjhip.  And 
 asjoon  as  ever  you  begin  to  doubt?  it  is  certain  you  begin 
 lefs  to  love. 
 
 To  this  effect  was  the  cifcourfe  of  h?m  who  took 
 upon 'him  to  give  the  defcripcion  of  a  worthv"  friend  : 
 which  was  highly  applauded  by  the  whole  Table  and 
 
 ferved 
 
Tlx  Titrable  of  the  Pilgrim .  40 1 
 
 ferved  for  an  excellent  dole  of  their  feaft.  And  truly 
 the  repetition  of  it  made  anew  feaft  for  our  Pilgrim, 
 who  began  upon  this  occafion  to  reflect  on  his  own 
 happinels,  who  had  met  with  a  friend  that  anfwcredin 
 all  points  this  great  Character  to  the  very  life.  O  Sir, 
 faid  he  to  the  Father,  what  alofsam  I  at  for  words  to 
 exprefs  my  felicity,  who  have  found  the  bed  of  men., 
 and  the  beft  of  friends !  How  gladly  would  they  have 
 admitted  you  into  that  loving  Society  from  which  we 
 lately  parted  !  They  would  have  raviflicd  you  from 
 me,  and  ftaid  you  there  for  ever,  if  they  had  known 
 your  worth.  They  would  have  thought  it  too  mu.ch 
 that  I  mould  endofe  fo  great  a  good,  which  is  capable 
 tofervealittle  World.  For  befides  the  reft  of  thofe 
 vertuous  qualities  which  they  remembred,  you  are  the 
 moft  companionate  of  all  men  living.  You  cannot  be 
 merry,  I  lee,  if  I  be  fad.  Theleaft  grief  which  I  fufTer 
 penetrates  to  the  bottom  of  your  hearr.  And  if  I 
 miftake  not,  I  touch  upon  a  truth  of  the  greatcft  remark 
 to  diftinguilh  a  flight  from  afubftantial  friend.  For 
 I  have  heard  wifer  men  than  my  felf  note,  that  the 
 World  hath  no  great  number  of  thofe  people,  who  are 
 deeply  wounded  with  the  fenfeof  the  mifery  that  be- 
 falls their  friends  ;  or  whofe  reientments  of  forrow 
 are  of  any  long  durance,  though  they  be  never  fo  paf- 
 fionately  moved  with  the  firft  light  or  report  of  therru 
 Companionate  grief  they  obferve,  is  wont  foon  to  flide 
 away,  and  make  room  for  the  entrance  of  any  plea- 
 fure.  Moft  men  can  divert  themfelves  delig  tfuily  if 
 occafion  fcrve  >  though  their  friends  fufferings  be  ne- 
 ver fo  fad.  They  have  not  made  their  concernments 
 fo  much  their  own,  as  that  they  fliould  feel  pain  as  long 
 as  their  friends.  But  yet  I  find  you  to  be  one  of  that 
 little  number  who  art  infinitely  tender,  and  thrcugh- 
 Fff  ly 
 
^oi  The  far  Me  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 ly  touched  with  all  the  infirmities  of  thofe  that  they 
 love.    How  often  have  you  charged  your  felf  with  my 
 cares  and  difquiets  <  How  many  thorns  have  you 
 drawn  out  of  my  mind  i  How  many  expedients  have 
 you  devifed  to  fuccour  and  fupport  me  under  all  my 
 burdens  i  You  have  often  tempered  the  heat  of  my 
 paflfions.     You  have  fweetncd  the  (harpnefs  of  my  fpi- 
 rir.     You  have  healed  my  wounds  when  you  could 
 not  prevent  the  blow.     You  have  brought  me  cordi- 
 als., when  I  was  capable  of  no  confolations  but  thofe 
 which  your  company  adminiftred  to  me.     You  have 
 divided  with  me  the  labours  which  I  am  to  undergo. 
 And  taken  a  part  of  that  duty  upon  you  which  lam  to 
 perform.     And  have  made  your  felf  fo  infeparable  to 
 me,  as  if  it  were  but  one  life  which  you  and  I  lived.    1 
 ought  to  value  you  as  much  as  my  felf ;  and  for  as 
 much  as  my  perfon  is  dearer  to  me  than  all  my  worldly 
 goods ;  I  ought  to  efteem  the  benefits  you  have  done 
 my  mind,  more  than  if  you  had  given  me  a  mafsof 
 treafure,  and  pofTefTed  me  of  the  faired  eftate  which  the 
 eye  of  the  World  hath  ever  feen. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
Tix  far  able  of  the  Tilgrim .  40  5 
 
 CHAP.  XXXIII. 
 
 How  the j  chanced  to  fee  a  very  Poor  man  entertaining 
 himfelf  with  much  pleafrre  under  a  Tree,  whence 
 arofe  a  difcourfe  of  contentment :  and  the  means  to 
 attain  it.  O/Humility  and  Charity.  That  not  with - 
 Jlanding  all  our  Charity ,  we  muft  not  think  to  have 
 th$  World {0 good  at  we  would  wijh  it. 
 
 I  Know  not  to  what  length  he  meant  to  continue 
 thefe  acknowledgements,  if  a  new  accident  had  not 
 put  an  end  to  his_fpcech.  For  as  he  was  going  to  ex- 
 tol the  noblenefs  of  his  difpofition,  as  well  as  the  ten- 
 dernefs  which  he  obferved  ;  and  had  juft  uttered  thefe 
 words,  You  fcarce  know  how  to  keep  a  meafure  when 
 there  is  occafion  to  be  kind  5  your  favours  feem  de- 
 fective unlefs  they  exceed:  they  were  on  a  fudden  en- 
 countred  with  another  delightful  fpe&acle,  which  quite 
 diverted  his  thoughts  from  what  he  was  about  to  fay. 
 For  as  they  palled  by  a  fair  field,  they  efpyed  a  poor 
 man  in  very  ragged  cloaths  under  a  large  Beach  Tree, 
 whowasliftningto  theMufick  which  the  Birds  made 
 in  the  neighbouring  grove,  and  fometimes  whittled 
 himfelf  to  bear  them  company  in  their  melodies.  A 
 long  time  they  faw  him  thus  entertain  himfelf,  and  ac 
 laft  he  pull'd  out  a  piece  of  bread  and  cheefe,  which 
 with  eyes  lifted  up  to  Heaven  he  feerred  to  acknow- 
 ledge a  liberal  dinner.  And  at  the  end  of  it  he  went 
 and  pledged  the  birds  in  a  little  ft  ream  that  ran  by 
 him,,  giving  God  thanks  again  that  had  provided  food 
 for  ail  his  Creatures.  They  were  much  taken  with 
 the  innocence  of  his  looks,  and  the  contentment  which 
 F  f  f  2  they 
 
404  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgri?n. 
 
 they  tlioughc  they  read  in  his  face,  which  bred  a  great 
 delireinthemtokuow  him  better,  and  fee  fomething 
 more  ofaVertuehid  under  raggs.    And  fo  approach- 
 ing nearer  to  him,  and  giving  him  the  ordinary  faluta- 
 tions  which  the  time  of  the  day  required,  they  entred 
 into  difcourfc,  and  in  conclufion  enquired  of  his  con- 
 dition, and  how  he  came  to  lead  fo  merry  a  life,  being 
 in  appearance  fodeftitute  and  low  in  his  Worldly  for- 
 tune?.    The  poor  man  made  no  fcruple  to  di  cover  his 
 heart  to  them  }  but  being  of  a  free  and  open  difpofiti- 
 on,  and  not  caring  who  was  privy  to  his  thoughts,  moft 
 readily  accorded  to  anfwer    their  defires.     And  he 
 plainly  told  them,  that  the  occafion  of  the  prefent  fa- 
 tisfa&ion,  which  perhaps  they  faw  himexprefs,  was  to 
 hear  the  birds  fo  merry  3  who  neither  fow,  nor  reap, 
 nor  have  any  barns  wherein  to  lay  up  their  food.    I 
 could  not  choofe,  faid  he,  but  btar  a  part  with  them  in 
 their  Mirth,  and  think  my  felf  at  leaft  fo  rich  and  hap. 
 py  as  thofe  filly  creatures.    The  World,  I  fee,  is  as  full 
 for  me  as  it  is  for  them.     All  places  are  crowded  with 
 .    thebleflingsof  God,  and  I  know  not  where  he  mould 
 beftow  more,  they  are  fo  very  full.     A  few  of  them 
 alfo  will  ferve  my  turn,  for  my  wants  are  but  a  few. 
 And  a  few  things  fure  are  eafily  obtained,  and  cannot 
 be  long  in  getting.  We  need  not  go  far  to  feek  enough  •, 
 forthereisnofcarcity  of  a  little,  and  a  little  will  fuf- 
 fice.  And,thanks  be  to  God, I  was  never  yet  at  any  great 
 trouble  to    procure  this    little  number  of  necelTary 
 things.    At  prefent  my  wants  are  all  fupplyed  >  And  I 
 have  no  reafon  to  doubt  but  they  will  be  fo  for  the 
 time  to  come.     For  fure  there  is  a  God  •  and  he  mufl 
 needs  take  care  of  his  Creatures :  and  I  imagine  it  is  no 
 pride  (  which  will  not  become  me  in  this  Poverty  )  to 
 think  my  felf  one  of  the  better  fort  •,  and  therefore  con- 
 clude 
 
Ti)6  Parable  of  the  Tilgrim,  405 
 
 elude  that  I  (hall  not  wane    There  is  nothing  fo  much 
 comforts  me  as  the  thoughts  of  his  Fulnefs,  of  his  Wif- 
 dom,  of  his  Goodnefs,  Power  and  prefence  to  all  places. 
 Which  make  me  confident  that  atprefent  I  enjoy  what 
 is  moft  convenient  for  me,  and  that  I  (hall  never  fail  to 
 do  the  like  through  all  my  life.    And  if  1  doubted  of  any 
 of  thefe,  that  instance  of  his  Love  and  Care  in  fending 
 his  own  Son  into  the  World  would  rid  me  of  all  my 
 fcruplcs.     For  if  he  [pared  not  his  Son,  but  delivered 
 him  up  for  us  all,  bow  /ball he  not  with  him  give  us  all 
 things.     For  the  comforts  of  this  belief  I  continually 
 render  my  thanks  to  God  ;  and  you  cannot  conceive 
 any  greater  contentment  than  trnt  which  I  find  in  ad- 
 miring and  praifing  his  eternal  goodnefs.    Nay,  I  can 
 never  methinks  give  him  thanks  enough  for  letting  me 
 enjoy  the  ufe  of  my  eyes,  my  tongue,:  my  hands  and 
 feet ;  for  thefe  are  greater  things  than  all  that  I  want, 
 and  by  thefe  and  his  blefling  I  may  make  provifion  fot 
 my  wants.     There  are  many,  I  fee,  in  the  world  are 
 poorer  by  half  than  my  felf.  I  poifefs  fo  much  more  than 
 they,  as  all  thofe  things  which  I  have  now.  numbred.  O 
 how  rich  do  I  eileem  my  felf  in  compare  with  the 
 blinds  and  the  dumb,  and  the  lame  !  But  I  mill  be 
 much  alhamed,  if  among  all  thofe  who  have  lefsthanl, 
 there  (hould  be  found  men   that  have  more  content- 
 ment.    And  I  confider  with  my  felf  fometimes ;  mould 
 thefe  poor  fouls  murmur,  what  is  it  that  I  (hould  fay 
 to  give  them  content ;  and  that  very  thing  I  fay  to  my 
 felf.    I  make  the  experiment  firft  upon  my  own  mind, 
 and  if  it  can  do  nothing  there  to  comfort  me  who  am 
 in  better  condition,  I  think  it  unreafonable  to  pro- 
 pound it  unto  them.    And  fometimes  on  the  other  fide 
 I  caft  mine  eyes  on  them  that  have  more,  and  fee  that 
 they  are  as  far  from  content  as  thofe  who  have  nothing 
 
40  6  The  T arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 ar  all :  from  w hence  I  conclude  that  it  is  not  to  Be  found 
 in  all  the  World,  but  in  our  felves,  and  there  I  may 
 find  it  without  the  abundance  that  they  enjoy.  I  per- 
 ceive alfo  that  Poverty  is  not  without  its  benefits,  and 
 that  it  is  dcfervedly  called  the  Mother  of  Sobriety,  the 
 Nurfe  of  Arts,  the  Miftrefs  of  Wifdom,  the  Spur  to  In- 
 duftry,  and  the  School  to  which  we  are  put  to  learn 
 the  knowledge  of  our  felves,  and  the  dependance  we 
 have  on  an  higher  Caufe.  Befides  all  which,  I  ufeto 
 call  it  my  Sanctuary,  which  no  body  will  prefume  to 
 rifle.  Heie  I  am  fate,  for  all  men  hate  to  hurt  the  poor. 
 There  is  no  Antidote  of  greater  vertue,  as  I  have  heard 
 men  fay  againft  poifon,  than  this  condition  wherein  I 
 am.  They  are  the  Vefiels  or  Gold*  and  not  of  Earth 
 and  Wood, wherein  fuch  deadly  potions  are  wont  to 
 be  mingled.  Nay,  this  Mufick  which  you  faw  me 
 Mening  to,  this  Mufick  of  Gods  own  creating  gives 
 me  the  greater  ravilhment,  becaufe  I  confider  that 
 none  can  rob  me  of  it,  and  leave  me  my  liberty  and 
 life.  They  that  have  taken  away  my  goods,  and  have 
 baniftied  me  into  the  Woods,  cannot  hinder  the  Earth 
 from  putting  forth  the  flowers,  nor  the  Trees  from 
 yielding  their  fruit,  nor  the  Birds  from  finging  among 
 the  branches  $  no  nor  me  from  entertaining  my  felf 
 with  all  thefe  pleasures,  at  leaft  from  being  contented. 
 And  truly  I  ought  me-thinks,  to  rejoyce  that  thefe  fa- 
 tisfactions  are  remaining,  rather  than  repine  that  thofe 
 are  gone  which  could  never  have  given  me  full  fatif- 
 faclion.  But  I  fuppofel  fpeakto  thofe  who  are  not 
 unacquainted  with  Come  wants,  and  therefore  I  may 
 forbear  to  fay  any  more  than  this ;  that  if  you  can  tell 
 what  it  is  that  keeps  you  from  being  miferable,  that 
 very  thing  is  the  comfort  of  my  Poverty.  For  he  that 
 can  reft  contented  in  one  condition,  can  fatisfie  him- 
 
 felf 
 
77;e  Parable  of  the  Tilgrhn.  407 
 
 felf  in  all :  and  he  who  is  not  pleafed  in  his  prcfcnt  (late, 
 willalwayes  find  Tome  matter  of  complaint. 
 
 Our  young  Pilgrim  would  fain  have  had  him  to  pro- 
 ceed in  declaring  the  fenfe  of  his  Soul  to  them,  becaafe 
 he  took  him  to  be  fo  happy.  But  yet  he  could  not 
 choofe  but  yield  to  the  equity  of  that  which  he  had 
 now  faid,  and  therefore  after  they  had  requited  the 
 Poor  mans  generous  freedom  with  a  long  difcourfe, 
 which  both  re(rih*ed  their  fympathy  with  him,  and 
 added  much  to  the  contentment  of  his  mind ;  He  entred 
 into  a  debate  with  the  Father  when  they  were  alone 
 about  thofe  things  which  will  prepare  the  Soul  to  re- 
 ceive fatisfaction  in  the  meaneft  condition  into  which 
 they  might  fail.  For  my  part,  faid  he,  I  cannot  but 
 look  back  upon  the  felicity  of  thole  who  lead  a  tem- 
 perate life  in  the  midft  of  all  the  abundance  of  this 
 World.  Every  thing  lets  me  fee  the  neceflity  and  ex- 
 cellency of  that  Ver:ue,  and  gives  me  occafion  to  re- 
 new my  commendations  of  it.  The  moderate  ufe  of 
 all  pleafant  things  doth  mod  effectually  teach  content- 
 ment, becaufe  it  (hews  us  how  little  will  ferve  our 
 turn.  It  weans  us  alfo  from  the  love  of  fenfual  de- 
 lights, which  is  the  only  thing  that  makes  the  want 
 or  the  bfs  of  them  fo  troublefome  unto  us.  It  makes 
 room  for  wife  and  fober  thoughts.  And  me  thinks 
 is  nothing  el  "e  but  a  conftant  exercife  of  contentment 
 in  one  particular,  which  mud  needs  difpofe  our  minds 
 to  the  practice  of  all  other  pans  of  it.  It  is  no  great 
 matter  to  be  debarred  of  that,  which  we  have  oft  for- 
 bidden to  our  felves  :  There  is  nothing  taken  away 
 but  what  we  could  fpare.  We  want  nothing,  but 
 what  we  could  want,  while  we  were  pofTcflTcd  of  it. 
 We  are  not  forced  to  be  without  thefe  things,  for  we 
 
 chofe 
 
40  8  The  T  arable  of  the  (Pi/grita. 
 
 chofe  before  to  enjoy  buc  a  little  of  them.  This  is  to 
 pra?occupateandforeftjllthe  blows  of  fortune,  as  the 
 Heathens,  I  have  heard,  were  wont  to  fay,  when  they 
 fpoke  of  the  changes  that  we  iuffer  in  the  World.  We 
 are  before  hand  by  this  means  with  any  alteration.  No- 
 thing can.give  us  any  wound  that  (hall  make  us  fmarr, 
 becaufe  we  have  felt  the  point  of  it  already.  We  have 
 made  a  trial  of  its  power,  and  know  what  want  can 
 do  upon  us.  We  may  cry  our,  as  a  generous  Soul  once 
 did  ;  I  have  got  before  thee,  whatfoever  Neceflity  thou 
 art  that  intended  to  come  upon  me.  I  have  taken 
 thee,  and  hold  thee  faft  in  my  hands.  I  have  inter- 
 •  ccpted  all  thy  aflaults,  and  thou  canft  not  touch  my 
 heart.  Nothing  can  arrive,  but  what  is  here  before.  I 
 know  the  worft  of  all  things,  for  I  have  inured  my  felf 
 to  bear  them, 
 
 You  are  in  the  right,  replyed  the  Father,  and  I 
 thank  you  for  this  good  reflection.  They  do  very  ill 
 fure,whodefire  to  lead  a  contented  life,  and  yet  ufe 
 themfelves  to  fare  delicioufly  every  day.  They  forgec 
 what  is  a  coming  who  love  to  fwim  in  pleafures,  and  to 
 gulp  down  as  much  as  they  are  able  of  thefe  fenfual  de- 
 lights .  They  are  but  preparing  their  own  prifons,  and 
 twitting  the  whips  that  muft  fcourge  themrelves.  They 
 do  but  make  themfelves  more  tender,  and  apt  to  (brink 
 at  the  prick  of  a  Pin.  They  will  cry  out  mod  bitterly 
 under  thofe  Jafhes,  which  fober  men  will  fcarce  feel. 
 And  yet  Jet  me  tell  you,  that  you  would  have  done 
 well  to  have  caft  your  eyes  a  little  further  back  to 
 fome  things  of  which  we  have  not  fo  lately  fpoken. 
 You  carry  your  contentment  about  you  continu- 
 ally, ancj  it  lyes  in  a  little  room  ;  if  you  have  not  for- 
 got the  very  firit  Leffon  which  I  taught  you  at  your 
 
 fetting 
 
77;«?  Parable  of  the  T'dgrhn.  4 op 
 
 fetting  our.  Thefe  few  words,  /  am  nought ,  I  h.ive 
 nought^  I  dejirc  nought  but  Jefm  and.  Jerufa/ew)  I  cold 
 you  were  like  a  little  bottle  of  Ellcnces,  which  j.  Tra- 
 veller mud  always  have  in  his  pocket,  and  of  which, 
 if  he  do  but  take  afip,  he  will  inftandy  find  relief  ia 
 any  condition  of  life.  Hnmility  and  Charity,  I  rrtfaii, 
 arefufficient  toarry  us  rhorow  this  evil  World  with 
 an  equal  and  well-poifcd  mind.  For  as  for  the  firft  of 
 them ;  what  is  it,  but  the  fubmiffion  of  our  wills  in- 
 tirely  to  God,  which  is  the  veryfecrec  of  Content- 
 ment ?  It  is  a  great  fenfe  of  his  Supream  Authority 
 over  us,  with  which  it  is  a  folly  to  difpute  •  and  of  his 
 Supream  Wifdom  and  Goodnefs,  out  of  whofe  hands 
 it  is  a  folly,  if  we  might,  to  take  our  fclves.  It  makes 
 us  think  that  we  defcrve  nothing  at  all,  and  fo  to  be 
 well  pleafed  that  we  have  not  left  than  we  enjoy.  Ic 
 teaches  us  to  renounce  our  own  underftandings,  and  to 
 think  that  beft  which  is  fo  in  Gods  account.  But  I 
 will  not  take  a  great  deal  of  pains  in  an  eafie  argu- 
 ment ;  and  therefore  let  us  only  confider  what  the  mat- 
 ter is,  that  no  man  is  fatisfied  with  the  portion  which 
 Providence  hath  allotted  to  him  :  from  the  greateft 
 to  the  meaneft  we  fee,  that  men  are  ever  complain- 
 ing of  their  fortune.  It  is  in  vain  that  Heaven  beftows 
 many  bleflings  upon  them,  for  they  turn  all  into  gall 
 andbitterneis,  and  have  lomething  within  which  de- 
 ftroys  all  their happinefs.  The  tafte  of  what  they 
 have  is  fpoilcd,  by  a  perpetual  thirft  after  fomething 
 or  other  which  they  want.  But  might  they  not  en- 
 joy them felves  well  enough  without  it  ?  There  is  no 
 queftion  to  be  made  of  it.  For  otherwife  he  that  hath 
 given  them  greater  things,  would  not  permit  them  to 
 be  without  the  lefs.  The  lifets  more  than  meat,  and 
 the  Body  than  rayment.  What  is  the  reafon  then  that 
 Ggg  they 
 
4j  0  Tl?e  Varabk  of  the  Pilgrim, 
 
 they  defire  that  fo  patfionatdy  of  which  they  have  no* 
 real  need,  and  never  take  any  comfort  in  that  which 
 they  cannot  be  without?    Truly  I  can  find  none,  fave 
 only  this,  that  though  they  do  not  need  many  things 
 to  their  happinefs,   yet  in  the  opinion  of  the  world 
 they  do,   and  it  will  not  account  them  happy  without 
 them.    The  world  thinks  him  nobody  whodoes  not 
 wear  fine  Cloaths,    who  hath  not  a  great  eftate,   who 
 is  not  able  to  leave  his  children  very  rich,  who  cannot 
 revenge  himfelf  on  his  enemies,  and  have  a  large  com- 
 mand over  others,   though  he  can  command  himfelf 
 never  fo  much :  And  fo  they  facrifice  their  own  eafe 
 to  the  popular  opinions.    They  vainly  employ  their 
 time  to  fatisfie  other  men,rather  than  themfclves.  T  hey 
 confider  more  what  will  be  faid  of  them,  if  they  be  not 
 in  fuch  or  fuch  an  eftate,  than  they  do  their  own  quiet 
 and  repofe.     And  is  it  poiTible}  can  we  think,  that  a 
 man  mould  be  well  pleated,  who  refuting  to  comply 
 with  reafon  alone,   defires  to  give  content  to  that  fa- 
 mous Chimarra  called  opinion?  It  cannot  be,  efpe- 
 eially  fince  it  is  the  Opinion  of  others ,   and  not 
 his  own  only  which  he  follows;   and  this  is  a  thing  fo 
 infinite,   and  withal  fo  mutable  and  uncertain,  that  it 
 will  never  give  him  any  reft  who  is  led  by  it.    But  then 
 after  all  this,   let  usconfider  what  it  is  that  makes  men 
 defirous  to  content  the  World ,   in  order  to  content 
 themfelves.      Is  it  not  their  Pride  and  deiire  to  be 
 efteemed  ?   Is  it  not  a  vain  ftudy  to  be  admired,  and 
 to  have  a  great  Name  in  the  world  i  Let  us  be  Humble 
 then,  and  wc  fhall  be  contented.     Let  us  have  a  mean 
 efleem  of  our  felves,   and  we  (hall  not  be  troubled  that 
 other  mens  thoughts  are  conformable  to  our  own.     Let 
 us  think  we  have  more  than  we  deferve,  and  we  fhall  at 
 the  moft  but  ftudy  to  be  worthy  ftill  to  have  it.     Let  us 
 
 thus 
 
The  Tarahle  of  the  filgnml  * ,  f 
 
 thus  endeavour  to  make  our  felves  happy ,    and  we 
 fhall  not  care  whether  other  men  think  us  happy  or 
 
 And  then  for  charity  >ot  the  Love  of  God,it  hath  this 
 Particular  Charm,  that  it  renders  all  conditions  alike 
 agreeable  unto  us ,    becaufe  we  never  confider  any 
 thing  therein,  but  only  him  alone.     When  we  are  fo 
 full  of  him  as  to  love  him  with  all  our  heart,  and  all 
 our  foul,  and  all  our  ftrength,  there  can  be  but  little 
 room  for  any  thing  elfe.    Some  troublefome  thoughts 
 may  intrude  themfelves ,    but  they  cannot  dwell  in 
 us,  becaufe  the  love  of  him  willthruft  them  out.    Be- 
 fides,  the  love  of  him  is  very  powerful  to  beget  in 
 our  fouls  a  perfwafion  that  he  loveth  us.     Our  love 
 is  but  the  product  of  his,   and  there  is  nothing  more 
 comfortable  than  to  think  that  we  are  beloved  of  fo 
 great  a  Good.    And  then  again,  Love  is  apt  to  make  us 
 well  pleafed  with  all  that  they  do  whom  we  intirely 
 love.    We  can  take  nothing  ill  at  their  hands,  but 
 always  perfwade  our  felves  that  they  mean  well.    It 
 pleafes  us  much  that  they  fhould  pleafe  themfelves. 
 And  therefore  if  we  love  God,    it  will  produce  the 
 fame  fatisfaclion  in  all  his  Providences :   we  fliall 
 love  them  every  one,   becaufe  we  are  in  love  with 
 him.    Efpecially  fince  we  are  fatisfied  by  this  love,  of 
 his  good  affecTion  to  us :   it  will  not  let  us  fufpect  him 
 of  any  unkindnefs.     We  (hall  always  reft  allured  of 
 his  good  will,  and  fo  have  no  more  to  fay  but  only 
 this,  Thy  vcill>  O  Love,  be  done.    And  I  may  add  alfo, 
 that  the  Love  of  God  being  juft  oppofite  to  our  felf- 
 love,  which  is  the  root  of  all  our  troubles,  rnuft  needs 
 be  the  foundation  and  root  of  all  our  contentment. 
 For  what  is  Contentment,  but  the  (lability,  as  it  were, 
 Ggg  2  of 
 
4,2  Tlx  Parable  of  the  Filgrim. 
 
 of  the  Seul  .whereby   it  (lands  in  one  immoveable 
 temper.    It  is  a  kind  of  uidifferency,    an  unconcern- 
 cdnefs  in  all  things  but  only  God.    And  how  is  thac 
 tobe  purchafd,    butonlyby  fuch  a  ftrong  aff&ion 
 to  him  as  deftroys  the  inordinate  love  of  our  felves 
 and  all  other  things.     As  long  as  that  love  of  our 
 felves  reigns,    it  carries  us  headlong  to  every  thing 
 thacpleafes  our  carnal  appetites.     It  makes  us  range 
 up  and  down  the  World  after  every  trifle  that  we 
 have  a  fancy  unto.     It  makes  us  vex  if  we  be  crofled 
 in  the  leaft  of  our  defires.      It  fets  us  in  a  rel- 
 iefs motion  without  any  poflibility  of  ever   fixing 
 our  felves.    It  makes  us  as  paflionate'y  concern  our 
 felves  for  a  toy,   as  if  it  touched  our  very  life.     And 
 therefore  till  this  be  deftroyed,   we  are  not  likely  to 
 find  the  contentment  which  we  feek.    Now  the  Love 
 of  God,   that  is  juft  contrary  to  it,  and  cannot  ftand 
 together  with  it.     That  concenters  and  unites  all  our 
 thoughts  and  affections  in  one  Good,   which  we  may 
 always  have,  and  in  which  we  may  always  have  fa- 
 tisfacVion.     That  fettles  our  Souls  in  one  place,  out  of 
 which  we  need  not  ftir  to  feek  our  happinefs.     That 
 carries  our  hearts  continually  above,  and  fets  us  out  of 
 the  reach  of  thefe  worldly  things.     It  raifes  us  beyond 
 our  felves,  and  makes  us  feel  him  who  Is  infinitely  bet- 
 ter :  who  alfoj  we  know,  rules  and  difpofes  all  things  in 
 the  world,  according  to  that  excellent  goodnefs  which 
 we  feel  in  him.    Let  us  love  him  therefore  now  as  much 
 as  we  can,  and  in  this  let  us  place  our  happinefs.  So  fhill 
 we  never  fail  tobe  well  pleafed ;  becaufe  every  thing 
 will  make  us  more  to  love  him. 
 
 I  thank  you  moft  heartily,   faid  the  Pilgrim,  for 
 the  feafonable  remembrance  you  have  given  me  of 
 
 thac 
 
 ' 
 
The  V arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  .    a  \  > 
 
 that  excellent  leflcn.  Ithaih  done mc lb  much  good, 
 that  I  cannot  fee  how  any  thing  mould  trouble  mc  un- 
 iefs  it  be  this ;  to  fee  fo  little  love  of  God  in  the  world, 
 and  that  I  can  do  no  more  good  upon  men  whom  I 
 love  for  Gods  fake.  It  is  very  well,  replyed  the  Father, 
 if  you  have  no  more  to  trouble  y^u  than  this ;  for  it  is 
 only  the  fruit  of  a  great  Love,  which  (bmetime  is 
 wont  to  make  us  lick,  if  ic  meet  w'r.h  unkind  enter- 
 tainment in  thofc  on  whom  ic  is  beftowed.  And  be- 
 sides, let  mc  tell  you  this  for  your  better  fatisfaftion ; 
 that  you  muft  content  your  felf  to  fee  the  world  fo 
 imperfect  as  ic  is.  You  will  never  haveany  quiet,  if 
 you  vex  your  felf,  becaufe  you  cannot  bring  mankind 
 to  that  exaft  Idea  of  things  which  you  have  formed 
 in  your  mind.  You  defire,  I  perceive,  above  all 
 things,  that  there  might  be  peace  on  earth,  and  that 
 Chnftian  people  might  live  in  a  fweet  agreement  to- 
 gether. But,  be  not  ignorant,  1  pray  you,  of  this,  that 
 you  do  but  trouble  your  felf,  and  the  world  too,  if 
 you  think  to  attain  this  happinefs  by  making  all  fo 
 perfect  as  your  felf.  As  it  is  too  commonly  feen  chat 
 Good  men  hinder  peace  by  infilling  over  vehemently 
 upon  leflfer  truths,  which  might  well  ftand  afide  to 
 make  way  for  Unity  in  greater  things :  fo  an  unfeafon- 
 blc  and  violent  endeavour  to  correcl  fome  faults, 
 and  root  out  fome  abufes,  and  to  take  away  fome  im- 
 perfect inftitutions ;  hach  coo  frequently  driven  peace 
 away  from  the  Church  of  God.  All  which  procetds 
 from  want  of  prudence  and  difcreec  consideration  of 
 things,  with  which  an  honeft  and  well-meaning  zeal 
 had  need  to  be  tempered.  We  muft  well  weigh  the 
 nature  and  moment  of  things.  When  ic  is  importable 
 to  have  all  we  honeftly  defire,  we  muft  take  what  we 
 can,  rather  than  want  che  chiefeftiliingtrut  is  in  our 
 
 defire?. 
 
m  j7  The  Parable  of  the  Ttlgrhn. 
 
 defires'.  We  do  not  live  in  a  world  that  is  compofed 
 of  Compleat  Chriftians.  All  is  weak,  allisfickand 
 diftempered  in  the  focieties  of  men.  They  are  in 
 a  ftate  of  great  infirmity,  not  to  fay  corruption  and 
 degeneracy.  He  that  would  go  about  p  efently  to 
 make  allfo  healthy  and  pure,  lo  free  from  all  difor- 
 der  as  he  defires ;  hath  much  piety  perhaps,  but  little 
 prudence.  He  confiders  not  that  a  crazy  ftate  of 
 things  cannot  be  lb  foon  amended  and  reftored  to 
 entire  foundnefs.  We  (hall  fooner  kill  than  work  a 
 Cure,  if  we  apply  fueh  violent  Medicines,  and  Aid- 
 denly  make  ufe  of  the  higheft  remedies.  We  muft 
 deal  gently  with  Patients  that  are  very  fick,  and  alfo 
 labour  of  a  Chronick  difeafe.  We  muft  wait  for  fa- 
 vourable feafons  $  we  muft  try  what  they  can  bear  5 
 we  muft  go  on  by  fteps  and  degrees  to  extirpate  a 
 long  fetled  and  inveterate  ill  habit  of  mind.  In  plain 
 words  we  muft  not  expect  and  ftay,  as  I  told  you,  for 
 peace  in  our  felves  or  the  world  either,  till  all  men  be 
 as  good  as  we  would  have  them.  We  muft  not  remain 
 in  Confufion,  till  we  can  eftabltfh  fuch  an  exact  plat- 
 form and  model  of  things  as  piety  teaches  us  to  de- 
 fign.  We  muft  confider  whether  it  can  be  attained  in 
 this  ftate  of  affairs.  We  muft  obferve  what  the  condi- 
 tion of  the  world  is  able  to  endure.  We  muft  do  as 
 Workmen  and  Artificers  are  wont,  who  when  they 
 have  not  the  choice  of  their  Materials  out  of  which 
 they  are  to  frame  a  piece,  do  content  themfelves  to 
 form  fuch  an  one  as  their  fluff  will  yield.  It  is  ira- 
 poflible  out  of  bad  matter  to  form  a  compleat  and  ex- 
 cellent piece  of  Work.  And  this  doth  not  argue  the 
 defect  of  the  Artificer,  but  the  incapacity  of  that  up- 
 en  which  he  exercifes  his  skill.  It  is  the  knotty  logg, 
 and  not  he  which  renders  the  Statue  fo  mean.    Such 
 
 defects 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  ,  T 
 
 defects  and  imperfections  in  the  Body  of  mankind,  nay, 
 and  of  Chriftians  alfo,    we  muft  be  forced  to  accom- 
 modate our  {"elves  unto  •  or  elfe  we  muft  break  So- 
 ciety, and  not  be  one  Body.     Neither  God  nor  man 
 will  expect  that  we  lluuld  make  things  perfect,  where 
 the  ftate  of  men  is  capable  of  Nothing  but  imperfecti- 
 on.    He  himfclf  was  fain  to  comply  with  the  obftl- 
 nate  hardnefs  of  the  Carnal  Jews.     The  Laws  which 
 he  gave  were  not  the  beft,    but  fuch  as  they  could 
 bear.     And  truly  we  muft  all  be  content  to  furter  that 
 which  we  cannoc  mend.    Patience  muft  be  the  reme- 
 dy of  thole  things  which  cannot  be  corrected.     Pro- 
 vided,  that  Charity  be  not  deftroyed ,   nor  Juftice 
 and  Piety  fubverted,  we  muft,  for  peace  fake,  tolerate 
 many  faults,   till  they  can  be  taken  away,   and  leave  ft 
 ftill  remaining.     There  are  fome  things  that  are  ab- 
 folutely  neceflary,  and  others  only  excellent,  and  very 
 defirable.     Some  that  are  indifpenfable,    and  others 
 that  may  be  lee  alone.     Some  chat  muft  exercife  our 
 zeal,    and  others  only  our  Patience.     And  we  had 
 need  pray  to  God  that  all  may  be  fo  happy  as  rightly 
 to  diltinguilh  thefe.    That  tney  may  have  as  much 
 light  as  they  have  heat.    That  good  affection  may  not 
 be  feparated  from  good  underftanding.     Thac  the 
 more  piety  any  man  hath,  the  more  prudence  and  wif- 
 domhemaybe  adorned  withal.    So  will  he  not  only 
 keep  peace,  but  a ifo  make  it.    He  will  not  only  be  a 
 Friend,  but  alio  a  Father  of  it.     And  in  all  likelyhood 
 obtain  that  by  foftand  moderate  courfes^  which  the 
 more  Violent,  though  feemingly  more  Pious  too,  will 
 certainly  drive  away. 
 
 It  is  poflble  indeed  the  World  may  call  this  a  luke^ 
 warm  temper :   but  do  net  regard  at  all  what  they  fay. 
 
 For 
 
4l$  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 For  as  charity  teaches  you  to  be  thus  moderate; 
 So  from  Humility  you  learn  not  to  matter  their 
 cenfures  of  you,  for,  it.  You  (hall  never  be  at  any 
 quiet,  if  you  be  troubled  at  all  that  men  are  p'eafed 
 to  talk  of  your  doings.  Or  if  their  good  efteem 
 be  necefiary  to  your  content,  it  is  a  very  eafie  mat- 
 ter to  foretell  that  you  (hall  always  hve  without 
 it.  Thofe  are  excellent  fayings,  me-thinks,  which  our 
 Fore- fathers  have  left  behind  them.  He  fljall  have 
 enough  to  do  whofludies  to  pleafe  fools,  &  them  that  have 
 no  skill.  Topleaje  and  to  difpleafe  are  the  meer  effects  of 
 chance  and  hazard*  wifdom  and  Sufficiency  b-aveno 
 (hare  therein.  Two  things  deferve  to  have  but  little  cre- 
 dit given  to  them  5  the  efteem  of  great  men^andthe  tefti- 
 mony  of  the  people,  Reputation  u  a  thing  that  is  often  got 
 ■without  merit  5  and  loft  without  any  ill  defervings.  And 
 therefore  when  we  have  won  the  greateft  fhare  of 
 mens  good  Opinion,  why  fhould  we  think  our  felves 
 the  better  <.  And  when  we  have  loft  it  again,  what 
 caufe  is  there  to  judge  our  felves  the  worfe  f  Are  you 
 the  taller  in  the  evening,  becaufe  your  fhadow  is  lon- 
 ger, or  are  you  fhorter  at  noon,  becaufe  it  is  then  con- 
 tracted ?  Do  not  think  of  your  felfthen  according  to 
 the  meafure  of  the  Honour  you  receive  from  others  ; 
 for  it  is  at  the  belt  but  the  fhadow  of  Vertue.  So  you 
 know  it  is  vulgarly  called  ;  and  if  you  aliow  the  ex- 
 preflion,  there  is  more  of  inftiu&ion  in  it,  than  you 
 may  imagine.  The  fhadow,  you  know,  attends  the 
 body  w  herefoever  it  goes :  It  is  its  infeparable  compa- 
 nion, and  will  not  be  parted  from  it.  And  fo  truly  doth 
 honour  and  glory  wait  upon  all  Vertuous  actions. 
 Though  no  body  commend  them,  yet  they  commend 
 themfelvcs.  A  man  cannot  but  think  he  hath  done 
 bravely,   though  there  be  none  to  applaud  him  but  his 
 
 own 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Tilgrim.  4  jL 
 
 own  confcience  of  what  he  hath  done.  And  therefore 
 regard  not  fo  much  what  the  World  thinks  of  you,  as 
 what  you  think  of  yourfelf.  Ask  not  whether  it  be 
 fatisfied,  but  whether  you  have  rendred  Juftice  to 
 your  own  resolutions.  Wait  not  to  receive  commen- 
 dations fi  org  abroad,  but  think  it  fuffiaent  if  you  meet 
 with  no  reproaches  at  home.  Not  that  I  would  have 
 you  refufe  juft  prailes  when  they  are  beftowed  upon 
 you,  much  lefs  think  it  is  the  ftile  of  Saints  to  be  talk- 
 ing of  your  vilenefs.  But  I  would  only  have  you  to 
 do  well,  though  you  hear  ill;  and  only  to  learn  to  do 
 better,  if  you  meet  with  good  acceptance.  For  the 
 truth  is,  the  approbation  of  wife  men,  though  it  fhould 
 not  pufFus  up,  yet  it  ought  to  encourage  us.  And  he 
 that  rejects  all  the  teftimony  of  others,  doth  not  fo 
 much  exprefs  the  Vile  opinion  he  hath  of  himfelf,  as 
 the  contempt  wherein  he  holds  his  Neighbours. 
 
 CHAP.  XXXIV. 
 
 Hove  they  fell  into  the  company  of  two  Travellers.  One  of 
 •which  would  have  pull' d  cut  the  Pilgrims  eyes^andthe 
 other  puH'd  arvay  bu  Guide, 
 
 THefe  words  were  fcarce  cold  upon  his  lips,  when 
 Suddenly  they  heard  the  noife  of  an  horfes  heels 
 behind  them.  Which  caufing  them  to  turn  their  eyes 
 back,  a  proper  man  well  mounted  prefented  himfelf  to 
 them,  ifluingoutof  another  rode  upon  the  left  hand, 
 and  falling  then  into  that  wherein  they  were.  When 
 he  was  come  up,  and  had  joyned  himfelf  to  them  •,  he 
 askt  prefently  the  common  queftion,  Whither  travel 
 you  ?  They  were  not  fhy  of  making  him  a  true  arv- 
 Hhh  fwer, 
 
Tl>e  f  arable  of  the  frjlgrim. 
 fwcr,  but  told  him  that  they  were  going  to  a  place 
 called  Jerttfalem.  You  are  well  overtaken  thenre- 
 plyedhe,  for  that  is  the  defign  of  my  journey  alfo,  and 
 I  mall  be  very  glad  of  your  company.  But  I  mart  tell 
 you,  that  if  you  have  (till  held  this  road,  you  are  very 
 much  out  of  your  way,  or  clfe  all  my  knowledge  fails 
 me.  For  it  lyes  a  great  deal  more  on  this  hand  ( point- 
 ing to  the  left )  and  here  we  muft  now  turn  again  and 
 leave  this  wherein  I  find  you,  unlefs  we  me m  to  mifs 
 of  our  aim,  apd  be  led  to  fome  other  place.  Let  me  be 
 your  Guide,  if  you  pleafe,  for  I  am  fo  well  acquainted 
 with  the  way",  that  it  is  impoflible  for  me  to  miftake  it. 
 You  may  truft  me ;  for  I  am  confident  though  I  mould 
 (hut  mine  eyes,  or  go  hood-winkt  thither,  I  mould  not 
 miflead  you. 
 
 He  fpoke  very  gratefully,  and  was  witty  in  his  con- 
 ceits, excellent  company  alfobyreafonof  his  pleafanc 
 humour  >  and  withal,  of  a  carriage  very  civil  and  in- 
 viting. But  they  obferved  that  he  had  a  Sword  by  his  - 
 fide,  and  a  pair  of  Piftols  before  him,  together  with 
 another  inftrument  hanging  at  his  Belt,  which  was 
 formed  for  pulling  out  of  eyes.  This  they  thought  was 
 none  of  a  Pilgrims  habit, and  they  viewed  him  fo  care- 
 ,  fully,  that  they  concluded  he  was  one  of  that  Brood, 
 who  if  they  cannot  perfwade  Travellers  into  their 
 Way,  will  drive  them  into  it,  and  then  carry  them 
 blindfold  for  fear  they  mould  forfake  it.  Whereupon 
 the  Father  faid  to  him,  Sir,  do  not  think  me  rude  if  I  be 
 fo  plain  with  you,  as  to  fpeak  in  the  flile  of  our  ufuai 
 Proverb,  and  let  you  know,  that  we  had  rather  )rave 
 your  room  than  your  company.  We  are  flrongly 
 pDfiefTed  againft  thofe  who  would  make  us  believe  we 
 cannot  fee  our  way,   unlefs  we  let  them  pull  out  our 
 
 eyes. 
 
>  The  T  arable  of  the  fdgrim.  4,^ 
 
 eyes.  Nor  will  you  ever  be  able  to  invent  (0  many- 
 good  words  as  to  reconcile  us  to  them  ;  who  when 
 they  find  men  in  courfes  contrary  to  their  own,  are  not 
 content  to  labour  by  reafon  to  bring  them  to  their 
 bent,  but  moot  them  to  death  if  they  ftifly  refuse,  as 
 if  they  were  bur  Rogues  and  Thieves.  And  you  will 
 have  a  great  deal  to  do  to  perfwade  us  that  you  are  noc 
 one  of  that  number.  We  fee  what  weapons  you  are 
 provided  of,  and  we  (hall  never  be  convinced  thac 
 they  are  innocent.  We  dread  you  more  than  the  Ban- 
 ditti, and  all  thelawlefs  men  in  the  world.  We  had 
 rather  fall  into  the  hands  of  Turks  and  Barbarians, 
 than  live  under  your  Tyranny.  For  though  they  (trip 
 nsof  ourcloaths,  and  fpoil  our  goods ;  yet  they  will 
 leave  us  our  fenfes  and  our  realbns  of  which  you  in- 
 tend to  bereave  us.  We  may  believe  our  eyes  ;  and 
 truft  our  feeling  and  ourtaftin  their  Countrey  ^  but  in 
 yours  they  have  loft  their  credit,  and  are  deprived  of 
 their  ofe in  matters  cf  the  greateft  concernment.  And 
 therefore  I  wonder  you  are  fo  confident  of  the  way 
 wherein  you  would  guide  u?,  fince  your  eyes  do  noc 
 always  report  things  truly  to  you.  You  mall  not  fee 
 for  us,  fince  you  acknowledge  your  light  fo  deficient. 
 We  can  be  lure  cf  nothing,  if  fuch  as  you  be  our  infor- 
 mers. Perhaps  there  is  no  fuchperfonas^/k*  whom 
 we  feek,  or  he  is  afleep  in  his  grave  and  we  mall  never 
 fee  him  at  Jeruftlem.  For  though  there  are  that  have 
 toldusrhey  faw  him,  and  handled  him  after  he  rofe 
 again,  by  what  means  will  you  allure  us  that  it  was  not 
 an  illufion  ?  Our  hands  and  eyes  may  deceive  us  you 
 fay  in  others  cares ,  and  therefore  what  priviledge 
 had  theirs  from  being  cheated  ?  But  befides,  as  I 
 was  going  to  fay  at  the  fir  ft,  if  you  are  fo  certain  of 
 your  way  as  you  pretend,  I  befeech  you,  why  do  you 
 Hhh  2  noc 
 
.10  T);e  Tar  Me  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 not  make  it  good  by  better   arguments  than  thofe 
 that  are  made  of  Steely   why  cannot  you  illumi- 
 nate us  without  cafting  us  into  the  midft  of  a  fire? 
 who  more  likely  to  be  wrong,    than  they  who  are  con- 
 fident they  are  in  the  right,  and  cannot  prove  it  ?  It  is 
 a  great  fign  you  intend  to  cozen  us,  became  you  will 
 not  let  us  examine  your  Ware.     Since  you  vend  it  in 
 a  dark  (hop,   where  no  body  can  fee  it,   we  hold  it  in 
 great  fufpicion  of  being  naught.      But  if  we  do  not 
 like  it,  why  will  you  not  fuffer  us  to  let  it  alone  i  Why 
 muft  we  be  forced  to  buy,    or  elfe  pay  for  our  refufal 
 with  the  price  of  our  lives  ?    Is  this  the  way  to  make 
 Chriftians,  never  to  confider  that  they  are  men  .<?  Is  this 
 the  mark  of  being  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghoft,    to 
 breathe  forth  nothing  but  threamings  and  (laughters? 
 Me-thinks  you  transform  the  Heavenly  Dove  into  the 
 fhape  of  a  Vulture  or  a  Raven.     We  have  heard  of  her 
 fweet  nature ,   of  her  fighs  and  mournings ,  but  we 
 are  Grangers  to  her  fiercenefs,    andknoiv  nothing  of 
 her  croaking  for  a  prey.     To  give  her  claws,  and  arm 
 her  with  ralons  and  a  bloody  beak ,    ivhat  is  it  but  to 
 turn  her  into  amonfter?  I  cannot  conceive,  faith  one 
 of  your  own  neighbours,    but  more  ingenious  than  the 
 '  reft,   that  they  lhould  be  the  Chriftian  Paftors  who 
 become  Butchers  of  the  flock  :    and  that  the  Church 
 which  was  for  fo  many  Ages  in  great  perfection, 
 fhould  now  it  felf  begin  to  perfecute.    Or  if  you  reckon 
 us  for  thofe  creatures  that  are  without  the  fold,   then 
 we  are  fure  to  be  worried  by  you.  Though  the  Church 
 be  never  fo  loving  a  Mother  to  you,   yet  flie  hath  no 
 kindnefs  at  all  for  Grangers.     You  tell  us  indeed  that 
 fhe  opens  her  arms  to  us,    but  we  doubt  that  it  is  to 
 prefs  us  to  death.    Nay,  Her  breafts  we  fee  do  feed 
 you  with  Blood,  and  not  with  Milk.    Her  children 
 
 are 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  4  t  t 
 
 are  cruel  and  ravenous,  and  therefore  whac  would  you 
 have  us  to  judge  of  her  felf  < 
 
 The  Gentleman  who  feemed  all  this  time  to  be  much 
 troubled  at  this  dilcourfe,  here  interrupted  it,  and  told 
 him  that  he  was  too  vehement*,  procefting  chat  he  had 
 no  defign  to  do  them  any  hurt.  We  are  as  innocent 
 people,continued  he,as  any  in  all  the  World, and  if  you 
 would  let  us  travel  together,  I  would  bring  you  to 
 more  good  company,  who  ihall  give  you  all  the  aflii- 
 rance  imaginable  of  our  harmlefs  intentions.  Do  but 
 tell  what  Security  you  defire,  and  I  will  undertake  it 
 (hall  notberefufed.  I  know  them  all  fo  well,  that  I 
 dare  engage  my  Soul  for  their  fidelity  to  their  word; 
 Undertake  nothing,  I  befeech  you,  replyed  the  Fa- 
 ther, for  other  folks.  If  you  had  engaged  that  pawn 
 only  for  your  felf  it  might  be  taken,  becaule  you  feem 
 a  Gentleman,  and  apzrfonof  good  nature,  but  as  for 
 the  moft  of  your  company,  they  can  never  give  me  the 
 aflurance  which  Khali  defire.  There  is  but  one  fecu- 
 rity  which  I  can  confide  in,  and  that  is  the  fame  which 
 the  Lacedemonian  demanded  of  one  who  offered  to 
 feal  him  his  faithful  Friendfhip,  viz,.  That  if  they  have 
 any  will  to  do  us  Any  mifebief:  they  Jhall  never  have  any 
 forver.  There  is  none  but  this  that  is  worth  a  rufh  : 
 The  reft  are  all  too  vain  and  infirm,  that  none  but  fools 
 will  truft  unto  them. 
 
 He  had  no  fooner  faid  ijiis,  but  before  there  could 
 be  any  room  for  a  reply,  they  were  all  accofted  by 
 another  man  of  a  quite  different  lhape  and  humour 
 from  this ;  more  fad  and  melancholy,  more  rude  and 
 of  an  heavier  wit  a!fo  •  who  crofted  their  way  upon 
 the  righ:  hand.    He  making  a  flop  a  while  as  they 
 
 pafied 
 
411  Tk  f  arable  of  thfilgrim. 
 
 pafled  by  him,    and  hearing  them  talk  of  Jerttfalem ; 
 made  no  more  ado  but  choptinto  their  company,  and 
 told  them,  that  if  they  were  going  thither,  they  held  a 
 very  unfafe  courfe  •,    and  (hould  wander  in  by-paths 
 for  ever,   unlefs  they  went  along  with  him  in  the 
 way  that  he  w  ould  (hew  them.    To  be  (hort  s  He  prel- 
 fed  them  foearntftly,  with  fo  loud  a  voice,  and  fo  much 
 heat,  that  the  fweat  dropt down  from  his  face.     He  did 
 little  lefs  than  thunder  among  them,  and  threatened 
 them  with  eternal  deftruclion  if  they  did  not  hearkca 
 to  him.    And  in  fine  he  told  them  that  he  had  caufe 
 to  be  thus  vehement,    for  he  was  fure  he  was  in  the 
 right,  and  could  not  misguide  them.    I  like  you  the 
 worfe  for  that,  faii  the  young  Pilgrim  (who  thought 
 himfelf  fufrkientto  deal  with  this  Hot-fpur)  and  we 
 fliould  have  believed  you  fooner  if  you  had  not  pre- 
 tended to  infallibility,    and  withal  been  fo  unchari- 
 table.   We  net  with  your  Elder  Brother  juft  now, 
 whom  you  fee  here,  though  perhaps  you  are  not  well 
 acquainted  w  ith  him.     And  if  we  could  be  moved  ac 
 aft  with  confidence,   and  the  pretences  of  an  unerring 
 fpirit,  he  had  got  the  (tart  of  you,  and  you  had  come 
 too  late  to  beg  our  aflent.     You  both  fet  up  an  Ora- 
 cle, but  his  is  the  ancienter  of  the  two  •  and  more  refor- 
 med unto,  and  far  better  cuftomed  than  yours.    I  wifli 
 that  both  your  pretentions  were  more  n  odeft.     For 
 me-thinks  there  is  nothing  fo  hateful  as  a  man  that 
 gives  us  nothing  but  words,  and  is  angry  that  we  will 
 not  believe  him.     It  would  put  a  wile  man  into  a  paf- 
 fion,  tofeeoneufe  th.  earning  geftures  inftead  of  Ar- 
 guments. And  provoke  him  to  think  the  ufe  of  fpeech  a 
 mifthief,  when  he  hears  poor  and  fimple  (luff  uttered 
 in  rcrms  that  carry  the  (hie  of  Edicts.     But  befides 
 this,  I  obferve,  that  as  this  man  would  have  pulled  out 
 
 mine 
 
T)?e  Tarable  of  the  filgrlm.  415 
 
 mine  eyes,  fo.you  would  pull  away  from  me  my  Guide. 
 You  would  have  me  travel  alone  by  my  own  fancy, 
 and  take  my  felf  to  be  as  wife  as  the  beft.  Bu:  for  my 
 part,  I  will  always  be  of  the  Religion  which  reve- 
 rences the  Conductors  of  Souls :  and  am  glad  with  all 
 mine  heart  that  I  have  met  with  one  both  to  teach 
 and  to  watch  over  me.  He  would  lead  me  as  if  I  were 
 a  Beaftj  and  had  no  understanding,  and  you  would 
 have  me  run  like  a  Mad-man  on  my  own  head-  but 
 there  is  a  middle  between  thefe,  and  that  is  reaion  un- 
 der the  Guidance  of  the  Wife.  H^  would  take  away 
 all  Judgment  fromus :  and  you  would  have  us  take  ic 
 all  to  our  felves.  I  like  neither,  but  would  take  forne, 
 and  leave  the  reft  to  others.  Do  not  think  but  that  I 
 will  judge  for  my  felf;  but  yet  I  will  take  a  Director 
 withrr.e  as  God  hath  appointed,  that  fo  I  may  fee  to 
 judge  the  better.  Give  me  my  eyes,  fay  I  to  him  that 
 lays  his  hands  upon  them  :  and  yet  I  cry  to  my  Guide, 
 when  I  fee  the  cleareft,  Lend  me  yours,  for  they  are 
 like  to  be  better  than  mine  own.  A  great  many  eyes 
 are  fafer  than  one.  Oihers  may  fee  that  which  I  can- 
 not difcover  my  felf.  Intereft,  Pride,  Paflion,  and 
 Prejudice  have  too  great  an  hand  in  our  own  determi- 
 nations ;  if  I  can  find  none  that  are  quite  void  of  them, 
 yet  1  will  confult  with  thorethat  are  like  to  have  lefs- 
 than  my  felf.  And  if  I  cannot  judge  according  to  their 
 fenfe,  yet  I  will  never  impofc  my  own  upon  them  If 
 I  cannot  follow,  yet  I  will  not  prefume  to  lead.  If 
 I  cannot  be  fo  humble  as  to  quit  my  rea'on,  yet  I  will 
 not  be  fo  arrogant  as  to  take  upon  me  to  Guide  them, 
 or  to  become  a  confident  Teacher  of  others.  Modcfty 
 inftru&s  me  to  think,  that  if  they  may  miftake,  much 
 more  may  1 :  that  if  they  whofe  work  it  is  to  enquire 
 into  Txuth,  are  not  fecure  from  Errcur,  then  I  cannot. 
 
 claim,  i 
 
4?4  ^ (parahle  °f the  2%»»- 
 
 claim  that  priviledge  who  have  many  other  bufineflfes 
 to  attend.  I  will  neither  therefore  contradift  their 
 opinion,  nor  deny  my  own.  I  will  neither  for  the  pre- 
 (ent  become  their  follower,  noryec  forfake  their  gui- 
 dance. 
 
 The  ftranger  did  not  expect  to  be  encourured  with 
 fuch  an  oppoiition  as  this,   and  fo  betrayed  a  little 
 amazement  at  it.     Andbeiides,  he  was  the  more  con- 
 foundcd,when  the  Pilgrim  efpying  a  dagger  by  his  fide, 
 and  a  Piftol  peeping  out  of  his  pocket,  thus  proceeded 
 to  difcourfe  to  him.    But  though  you  two  are  fo  dif- 
 ferent in  your  opinions,  yet  me-thinks  you  confpire  too 
 much  in  your  cruel  practices.    That  young  weapon  of 
 yours  which  I  fee  at  your  Girdle  doth  make  me  ftart. 
 Yc  ur  Dagger,  I  doubt,  when  it  is  a  little  flefhed,will  in 
 amort  time  grow  to  be  a  Sword.     You  are  of  the  fame 
 perfecuting  ipirit  with  your  neighbour,   and  will  fuf- 
 fer  no  body  to  be  of  a  contrary  mind  to  your  felf.    And 
 it  is  the  worfe  in  you,  becaufe  you  have  often  pretended 
 to  liberty,  and  will  give  none.    It  is  your  felf,  I  fee,  that 
 you  love,  and  no  body  elfe.     You  cry  out  of  thofe  bur- 
 dens, which  you  are  ready  to  lay  on  other  mens  backs. 
 You  do  that  of  which  you  complain  5    and  defire  only 
 to  change  places  with  thofe  againft  whom  you  perpe- 
 tually murmur.     If  you  could  but  agree  in  other  things, 
 it  would  bebeft  for  you  to  go  together,    and  leave  us 
 to  our  felves.     Though  we  would  willingly  come  to  a 
 fair  accord  (being,  I  hope,  the  children  of  peacej  yet 
 I  doubt  you  are  of  the  humour  of  thofe  men  who  are 
 fo  obftinate,   that  they  will  not  ftoopa  jor,  nor  bow 
 their  heads,    though  it  be  to  take  up  fuch  a  Blefled 
 thing  as  Peace.     It  is  very  fad  indeed  that  there  mould 
 be  fuch  natures  found  in  the  world,  but  it  is  fo  apparent 
 
 that 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  4  2  J 
 
 that  there  are  i  that  you  will  have  a  difficult  task  of 
 it,  to  clear  your  felf  from  the  imputation  of  being  of 
 that  wilful  party.    Though  Peace  lye  at  their  feet  and 
 intreat  them  to  condefcend  a  little  for  its  fake,  they . 
 do  not  love  it  fo  well  as  to  purchafe  it  with  the  lcaft 
 abatement  of  their  own  defires.    There  is  no  way  to 
 divert  their  imagination  from  the  objecl  on  which  it  is 
 pitcht :  and  if  they  be  once  refolved  a  thing  muft  be 
 done,  all  the  World  cannot  change  them  from  their 
 aim.  They  are  enemies  to  all  accommodation,  and  fo 
 tyed  to  the  forms  they  prefcribe  themfelves  >  that  it  is 
 impofliblc  to  reduce  them  to  any  equity,  or  to  render 
 them  capable  to  remit  of  their  rigour.    Nay  fo  far  do 
 fome  men  forget  themfelves,  that  as  many  who  obferve 
 it  have  complained,  they  would  rather  fall,  than  de- 
 fcend  and  come  down.  They  defire  all  or  nothing :  they 
 feek  Death  or  elfe  Victory.    As  for  Peace  which  lyes 
 between  both,  and  which  ought  alwayes  to  be  fought 
 for  by  the  Vanquifhed,  and  defired  by  the  Victorious, 
 they  nothing  care ;  unlefs  they  may  have  it  on  their 
 own  terms  and  conditions.    If  you  intend  then  to  have 
 our  company,  you  muft  throw  away  this  ftubbom,  ftiff, 
 and  refolute  difpofition  which  makes  men  lofe  Peace 
 for  little  or  nothing.  A  yielding,  complyant  and  gentle 
 nature  is  the  great  friend  of  Peace,  and  the  only  foil 
 wherein  it  will  grow.     Tor  the  preparing  of  which 
 foil,  there  is  nothing  fo  neceffary  as  humility.lt  is  Pride 
 generally  that  makes  men  fo  obftinate  and  pertinaci- 
 ous.   A  conceit  of  themfelves  makes  them  fondly  ima- 
 gine that  every  body  muft  fubmit  to  them,  and  they 
 to  none.    This  therefore  is  as  great  an  enemy  to  our 
 happy  agreement,  as  any  the  World  hath.  Itobftru&s 
 all  palTages  to  it :  it  makes  a  man  ftand  upon  puncti- 
 lio's and  formalities,  as  if  they  were  of  equal  confide- 
 I  i  i  ration 
 
4 2  6  The  T  arable  of  the  ftlgrim. 
 
 ration  to  Peace  and  Unity.  It  prefers  the  leaft  trifle 
 which  fupports  its  Grandeur  before  the  greateft  Blef- 
 ilngs  that  Heaven  can  beftow.  It  makes  men  endlefly 
 wrangle,  when  all  that  they  can  fay  fignifies  nothing 
 but  that  they  have  no  mind  to  yield.  Ycu  are  better 
 skilled  than  I  it  is  to  be  prefumed  in  the  Hiftory  of 
 ancient  times :  And  you  cannot  well  chufe  but  remem- 
 ber fomething  of  a  concert  between  the  Athenians  and 
 King  Philip  about  an  Ifle  that  he  had  taken  from  them, 
 and  had  a  mind  to  reftore.  But  then  you  cannot  alio 
 but  call  to  mind,  how  learnedly  one  of  their  prou.i 
 Orators  advifcd  them,  that  if  the  words  of  the  Treaty 
 did  import  that  he  gave  it  to  them,  they  fliould  refufe 
 ir.  He  would  rather  have  them  lofe  that  which  they 
 could  not  get,  than  not  have  it  by  way  of  furrefider, 
 and  reft itution  to  them.  Was  nor  this  a  flrange  foolery  <t 
 What  was  it  elfe  but  to  prize  the  vanity  of  a  word,  be- 
 fore the  folidity  of  the  thing,  as  one  hath  obferved  on 
 that  Story  '.  To  (land  upon  a  fancy  and  lhaJow  of  Ho- 
 nour, when  a  real  interefl:  was  concerned  <  But  fuch  is 
 the  nature  of  Pride,  which  thinks  it  felf  difgraced  if 
 you  pluck  an  hair  out  of  its  head;  and  takes  it  felf  to 
 be  undone,  if  it  lofe  but  a  word.  Pride  would  have 
 it  fo-  and  that  will  be  obeyed,  though  men  fuftcr 
 foundly  for  it.  And  are  not  mod  of  the  Controverdes 
 that  divide  the  World  about  matters  of  the  like  high 
 moment?  Are  they  not  in  great  part  a  fcuffl.ng  about 
 fyllables,  and  a  fig  iting  with  fliadows  and  Idols  of  our 
 own  Imagination  i  Is  not  there  very  hot  bickerings 
 about  hard  phrafes?  And  is  it  not  thought  enough  to 
 make  a  man  be  killed,  if  he  do  not  believe  a  barbarous 
 word?  Con/iier  whether  your  weapons  are  not  like 
 to  be  ingaged  in  thefe  doughty  quarrels.  Whether 
 you  have  not  fharpe-ncd  them  to  ferve  in  the  caufe  of 
 
 word 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  417 
 
 words,  1  doubt  tfeofe  that  I  fee  you  arm'd  withal  are 
 provided  to  protect  Cob- webs,  and  to  defend  the  idle 
 dreams  and  phantafms  of  Sophifters.  But  is  not  the 
 World  in  a  lad  cafe  in  the  meantime:'  It  is  not  very 
 rtrange  that  it  mould  be  fo  much  at  Icifure  •,  They 
 know  very  well  furs  how  to  live  and  how  to  dye,  or 
 elfethey  would  find  themfelves  fomething  elfe  to  do. 
 It  feemsGod  hath  not  told  them  enough  to  employ 
 them,  and  fo  they  invent  words  out  of  their  own  brain 
 about  which  to  fight  eternally.  Away  for  fliame  with 
 this  Vanity  and  Pride.  Away  with  this  conceitednefs 
 which  hath  thus  embroiled  the  whole  Earth,  and  feeks 
 to  draw  Heaven  into  the  Contention  too.  If  you  would 
 have  us  pyn  with  you  in  any  thing,  it  muft  be  in  our 
 prayers,  that  God  would  give  men  fucha  right  fenfeof 
 themfelves,  that  they  may  become  humble  and  lowly 
 in  heart.  To  this  we  will  fay  Amen,  both  for  our 
 felves  and  all  others.  We  will  beg  this  day  and  night 
 that  he  would  incline  mens  hearts  to  peace,  by  incli- 
 ning them  to  yield  one  to  another.  That  he  would 
 beftow  upon  them  a  foft  and  gentle  difpofition  of  mind. 
 That  he  would  mollifie  their  hardnefs,  and  fmooth 
 the  roughnefs  and  feverity  of  their  fpirits.  That  all 
 may  be  willing  to  quit  their  particular  defires  for 
 the  General  Good.  That  Self  denyal  may  have  as 
 great  a  place  in  all  mens  hearts  as  it  hath  in  our  Reli- 
 gion. And  that  all  who  call  themfelves  after  the  name 
 of  Chrift,  may  learn  of  their  Mafter,  who  was  meek 
 and  lowly  in  heart;  who  did  not  cry,  neither  was  his 
 voice  heard  in  the  ftreet  :  who  did  not  quench  the 
 fmoaking  Flax,  nor  break  the  bruifed  Reed.  Who  did 
 bear  with  the  infirmities  of  thofethat  followed  him, 
 and  is  now  fuch  an  High-Prieft  as  can  have  companion 
 on  the  ignoranfand  them  that  are  out  of  the  way.  Of 
 Iii  2  thefe 
 
4t8  TIj8  f  arable  of  the  *?«  i/grim. 
 
 thefe  things  we  can  be  infallibly  allured,  and  if  yon. 
 have  a  mind  to  be  as  confident  of  other  matters  which 
 we  think  either  doubtful  or  falfe  -y  trouble  not  the 
 World  with  it,  and  we  will  not  trouble  you  nor  envy 
 to  you  the  height  of  your  illumination. 
 
 CHAP.  XXXV. 
 
 ADifcmrfe  withfome  Pilgrims  that  were  going  to  Lo- 
 recto,  the  Holy  Land,  or  fucb  like  places.  How  much 
 Jucbperfons  are  abused  an  dche  at  ed.The  Judgement  of 
 St.  Gregory  Nyffen  of  the(e  Pilgrimages.  The  Privi^ 
 
 ,  ledges  which  Rome  boafs  of  above  all  other  f  laces. 
 And  what  a  Market  is  there  held  continually  for  Par- 
 dons. Of  which  a  Leafe  may  be  bought  of  many  thou- 
 sand years, for  a  fmall  matter. 
 
 T  T  7  Hen  the  two  Champions  ( for  fo  they  efteemed 
 V V  themfelves  J  faw  that  there  was  no  ground  to 
 be  won  of  thefe  men,  they  thought  it  beft  to  quit  the 
 field,  efpccially  fince  the  night  was  coming  on  a  pace 
 to  part  them.  They  made  therefore  but  a  fhort  recurn 
 to  what  had  been  objected  to  them,  and  then  both 
 fides  expr-efling  all  the  kindnefsthat  might  be  towards 
 each  other,  and  promidng  to  live  in  Charity,  they  took 
 the-r  feveral  courfes.  And  as  for  our  two  friends,  they 
 did  but  rid  themfelves  of  this  company,  to  make  room 
 for  a  new.  For  having  bequeathed  their  wearied  bones 
 to  reft  in  fuch  a  bed  as  they  could  get,  betimes  the 
 next  morning  they  met  with  a  clufter  of  Pilgrims  (  .is 
 they  called  themfelves)  in  a  very  poor  habit,  and  much 
 weather  beaten  •,  who  were  got  together  under  a  tree, 
 lelaung  their  feveral  Pilgrimages  which  either  they 
 
 intended, 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim*  4 1  p 
 
 intended,  or  had  already  performed.  To  this  compa- 
 ny they  were  very  deiirousto  joynchemfelves  a  while  5 
 and  it  being  admitted,  they  found  one  of  them  telling 
 how  holy  a  place  iVlount  Sinai  was,  which  he  was  going 
 to  vifit  with  great  devotion.  And  I,  faid  another,  mail 
 go  your  Way  -,  for  there  is  a  Vow  upon  me  to  go  and 
 ice  the  Oak  of  Murnre  under  which  Abraham  enter- 
 tamed  the  Angels.  But  fii  ft,  faid  a  third,  let  us  go  to 
 Jerufalem  whither  I  am  bound,  to  fee  the  fancTtfieJ 
 places  which  our  Saviours  feet  have  trod  :  The  place 
 where  he  made  the  Pater  ncfler^  and  where  the  A- 
 poftles  made  the  Creed:  The  Olive  tree  alio  ftill  (land- 
 ing hard  by  thehoufeof  Ann,isi  to  which  Chrift  was 
 tyed  when  they  brought  him  to  be  examined  by  him. 
 For  you  muft  know,  by  the  way,  that  Anns*  being  fa  ft 
 afleep  when  he  was  taken,  and  they  being  loth  to 
 awake  him,  they  got  a  cord  and  bound  our  Saviour  to 
 this  tree  left  he  mould  flip  away  before  the  High- 
 Prieft  arofe.  Butefpecially  I  intend  to  vifit  the  Holy 
 Sepulchre,  and  to  behold  the  place  where  he  lay  5  which 
 I  have  heard  is  an  action  very  meritorious.  And  I, 
 faid  a  fourth,  am  ingaged  to  go  to  our  L*dy  of  Lorctto 
 to  fee  the  very  Chamber  where  (lie  was  born,  and 
 where  me  was  educated  by  Joachim  her  Father  and 
 Ann  her  Mother  5  and  where  the  Angels  came  to  her 
 and  (lie  conceived  our  Lord.  This  I  hope  is  as  meri- 
 torious, if  not  more,  as  to  travel  to  his  grave  ( and  be- 
 sides it  is  a  fliortcr  purneyj  for  I  have  heard  one  fay 
 of  this  place,  as  I  believe  you  never  heard  any  fay  of 
 the  other,  that  the  words  of  Jacob  to  well  befit  it,  This 
 place  is  dreadful^  it  Is  no  other  than  the  Houfe  of  God, 
 and  the  gate  of  Heaven.  You  fpeak.fo  highly  oft  efe 
 holy  places,  faid  a  fifth,  that  I  mould  have  a  great  mind 
 to  accompany  you  to  fome  of  them,  were  I  not  now  re- 
 turning 
 
4  jo  The  far  Me  of  the  filg>\m. 
 
 turning  home  from  a  Pilgrimage  which  I  have  made  to 
 St.  James  of  CompoftelU,  wherein  I  have  (pent  more 
 time  than  I  could  well  fparc  from  my  neceffary  affairs. 
 Othcnfaid  the  Father  (who  had  liftned  attentively 
 all  this  while  to  them  without  (peaking  a  word  J  yoa 
 have  brought  home  I  prcfume   to  your  family  one 
 Feather  at  leaft  of  the  Holy  Cock  or  Hen  which  are 
 kept  in  a  certain  Church  of  an  ancient  City  not  far 
 fom  that  place.      I  hope  you  will  favour  us  with  a 
 light  of  it,  for  here  is  no  air  ftirring  to  blow  it  away 
 ii  it  fliould  chance  to  fall  -,  and  this  company  I  believe 
 would  be  glad  if  you  would  blefs  their  lips  with  a  kifs 
 of  it.     I  do  not  know  well  what  you  mean  faid  the 
 man,  for  I  never  fo  much  as  heard  of  any  fuch  thing. 
 That  is  very  ftrange  replyed  the  Father,  that  they 
 fliould  either  fuffer  fo  facred  a  breed  to  perifli,  or  that 
 the  fame  of  them  fhould  not  come  to  your  ears.  There 
 is  fcarce  any  Pilgrim  that  paffes  that  way  who  doth 
 not  go  to  fee  them,  and  therefore  I  may  well  marvel 
 that  you  fliould  hear  no  news  of  them :  T  hough  I  {hall 
 fooner  believe  that,  than  that  they  fliould  be  fo  care- 
 lefs  to  let  thofe  Holy  Chickins  dye,   whofe  great 
 Grandfather  and  Grandmother  were  fo  miraculous  an 
 inftance  of  the  Vertue  of  St.  James  of  CompofielU  !  I 
 pray  Sir  faid  another  of  them  be  pleafed  to  let  us  hear 
 the  ftoryof  thefeSacred  Creatures,  for  we  are  all  I 
 believe  very  ignorant  of  it.     I  will  tell  it  you  then  faid 
 he  juft  as  I  received  it  from  a  perfon  of  no  mean  ac- 
 count that  lived  in  Sicily  but  was  well  acquainted  with 
 i*t.wiMUA  au  thefe  Countrcys.     There  was  on  a  time  a  certain 
 man,  a  great  friend  of  God  (  whofe  name  he  was  plea- 
 fed  to  conceal )  who  undertook  a  Pilgrimage,  together 
 with  his  Wife  and  Son  to  the  Saint  forenamed.    It  was 
 their  fortune  being  in  their  journey  thither  to  take  up 
 
 their 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Vdgrlm.  45 1 
 
 their  Qjarters   one  night  in  an  old  City  not  many 
 miles  from  it,  they  being  not  able  that  day  to  reach  as 
 far  as  CompojlelLi.     Now  in  the  houfe  that  entertained 
 them  you  muft  know  there  was  a  Maid  not/fo  good  as 
 ilie  was  pretty,  who  beholding  the  beauty  of  their  fon 
 fell  in  love  with  him  :  and  made  luch  undeeent  cxj*ef- 
 fions  of  it,  that  he  was  forced  to  be  more  uncivil  to  her 
 than  otherwile  he  mould  have  been.     This  turned  hci 
 love  into  a  great  hatred,  and  made  her  ftudy  a  reveng ■-, 
 which  fhe  took  in  this  manner.     There  being  a  little 
 iilver  cup  which  they  ufed  in  their  Chamber,  lhe  neat- 
 ly conveyed  it  into  his  Capouch,  and  when  they  were 
 goneoutof  the  City,  eau'ed  themtobepurfued  by  the 
 Alcude  or  Juftice  of  the  place,  and  accui'ed  them  of 
 thefc.     When  the  Father  and  Mother  had  been  fcarch- 
 ed  and  nothing  was  foand,  they  were  fomeching  trou- 
 bled at  the  moleftation  which  they  had  given  them  ; 
 but  as  foon  as  ever  they  came  to  the  fon,  they  happen- 
 ed to  feel  it  there,  where  they  little  expected  to  have 
 found  it ;  and  fo  carried  them  back  again.   The  young 
 man  being  brought  before  the  Juftice  could  only  de- 
 ny the  fact,  but  was  no  way  able  to  purge  himfclf,  and 
 therefore  was  condemned  to  be  hang'd.     On  the  Gal- 
 lows then  his  Father  and  Mother  were  fain  to  leave 
 him,  and  as  the  (lory  goes,  there  he  hung  by  the  neck 
 till  they  had  been  at  CompoflelU,  and  performed  all 
 their  vows  to  the  Saint.     And  his  Mother  going  to 
 vific  the  Gibbet  at  her  return,  and  to  fpend  a  few  tears 
 at  the  place  of  Execution,  found  him  in  the  very  fame 
 pofture  wherein  they  left  him.    Bat  flic  had  not  p:  ured 
 out  many  complaints,  nor  lookt  upon  him  long  with 
 her  eyes  full  of  tears,  before  lie  called  out  to  her  and 
 faid  ;  Dear  Mother,  weep  no  more  I  beeech  you  for 
 me,  for  I  am  not  dead  as  you  imagine  but  alive;  being 
 
 prefer  ved 
 
*„  Tfo  Parable  of  thePilgrinu 
 
 preferved  by  the  Mother  of  God  and  the  interceflion 
 of  St.  Jait/es  whom  you  went  to  honour,  from  fuffering 
 the  death  which  my  Enemies  intended  me.    Go  to  the 
 Judge  therefore  and  make  no  longer  flay  here  :  Lee 
 him  know  how  it  is,  that  I  was  accufed  out  of  meer 
 malice,  unjuftly  condemned,  and  thus  miraculoufly 
 faved  by  them  that  protect  the  innocent  and  are  grate- 
 ful to  their  Worfliippers.     She  did  fo,  without  exa- 
 mining him  any  further  about  the  matter :  and  the 
 Judge  was  juft  fate  down  to  dinner  when  (lie  came  run- 
 ning in  faying,  Sir,  I  befeech  you  caufe  my  Son  to  be 
 taken  down,  and  let  him  hang  yonder  no  longer,  for 
 though  I  muftconfefs  that  he  is  ftill  alive,  yet  it  is  by 
 the  power  of  God  and  his  Saints.    At  which  news, 
 he  failing  faid,  Good  Woman  be  content ;  thy  Son  is 
 as  much  alive,  as  thefe  two  Birds  -,  pointing  to  a  Cock 
 and  Hen  which  were  ready  roafted  upon  the  Table 
 before  him.    He  had  no  fooner  faid  the  word,  but 
 they  both  leapt  out  of  the  dim  and  walkt  about  the 
 Table,  being  as  ready  for  a  Dinner  as  himfelf.    And 
 as  for  the  Cock,  he  moreover  clapped  his  Wings  and 
 fell  a  Crowing  for  joy  to  find  them  unpiniond,  and 
 to  feel  that  he  did  not  carry  his  gifern   thereabouts 
 any  longer.    Which  when  the  Judge  beheld,  he  was 
 the  moft  aftonifhed  man  that  ever  was  feen,  and  could 
 not  of  a  good  while  recover  himfelf  to  fpeak  a  word. 
 But  as  foon  as  ever  the  paflioa  was  over,  away  he 
 went  without  lb  much  as  thinking  of  his  Dinner,  and 
 called  the  Prieft  with  the  principal  men  of  the  City, 
 who  all  went  together  to  the  place  where  the  Youth 
 was  hang'd  ♦,  and  found  it  to  their  no  fmall  wonder- 
 ment, jult  as  the  good  woman  had  faid.     Whereupon 
 he  was  cut  down  and  refiored  to  his  Parents;  but  the 
 Cock  and  Hen  as  more  Sacred  things  were  carry ed 
 
 in 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  41? 
 
 in  much  folemnity  to  the  great  Church  ;  and  there 
 a  Coop  was  made  for  them  •,  that  they  might  be  prc- 
 ferved  as  a  monument  of  the  great  power  of  God. 
 Ofwhar  colour  they  were  before,  my  Author  faid,  he 
 did  not  know ;  but  after  their  refurreCtion  they  were 
 of  a  pure  white  fnovv-like  colour.  It  is  uncertain  alfo 
 what  they  did  while  the  Judge  was  gone  to  the  place 
 of  Execution,  but  afterward  it  is  not  to  be  doubted 
 tfiey  lived  very  purely.  For.  feven  years  being  pre- 
 fixed by  God  for  the  term  of  this  new  life  which  they 
 had  received,  they  left  no  more  than  two  Chickens 
 behind  them  when  they  dyed  $  nor  had  they  ever 
 any  more  ifTue.  Thefe  two  alio  lived  juft  the  fame 
 number  of  years  5  and  had  the  like  pofterity  5  and 
 f'o  it  hath  continued  in  that  order  to  this  day.  How 
 all  knowing  men  judgeit  nolefsthan  a  Miracle,  that 
 the  Cock  mould  never  tread  the  Hen  above  once  in 
 his  life.  And  then  that  he  begets  juft  two  Eggs  :.  And 
 that  one  of  thefe  alwayes  brings  forth  a  Cock,  and 
 the  other  an  Hen.  And  that  at  the  pun&uat  rime  of 
 feven  years  end,  which  you  know  is  a  perfect  number, 
 they  leave  the  World,  and  reft  in  peace.  For  though 
 the  reporter  of  this  did  not  tell  me  what  became  of 
 their  bodies,  yet  you  may  be  fare,  that  they  never 
 came  upon  the  Spit  more.  And  as  for  their  Feathers, 
 the  mention  of  which  occafioned  the  telling  of  this 
 ftory,  you  muft  know  that  they  are  preferved  as  an 
 holy  Relique,  and  all  people  that  pafs  to  S.  James 
 through  this  City,  ufeto  vifit  this  Church  and  obtain 
 one  of  them.  And  here  now  is  another  wonder,  that 
 though  there  are  innumerable  perfons  which  pafs 
 through  it,  yet  they  never  want  feathers  5  as  he  tells 
 me  who  was  at  the  place,  and  himfelf  wore  one  of  them 
 continually  about  him. 
 
 Kkk  O 
 
4H  -^  Viable  °f^e  W&riri 
 
 O  Sir,  faid  he  that  had  been  at  Compoftells,  how- 
 happy  a  man  mould  I  have  thought  my  fclf  if  it  had 
 been  my  fortune  to  meet  with  you  before  I  took  this 
 long  journey.  I  had  then  been  a  great  deal  richer 
 than  I  am  ;  and  brought  a  treafure  home  with  me, 
 which  now  alas !  I  want.  I  could  be  tempted  if  my 
 occafiens  would  yield  to  it  to  return  back,  if  it  were 
 but  to  fee  the  faces  of  this  Chafte  Pair,  who  never 
 come  together,  but  only  to  beget  fuch  another  blefied 
 couple  as  themfelvcs.  Who  knows  what  vertue  it 
 might  infufe  into  ones  mind  <  Or  of  what  power  fo 
 holy  arelique  is  againft  all  the  aflaults  of  the  enemy  f. 
 Well,  I  mall  never  fee  a  roafted  Pullet  more,  but  I 
 (hall  fighat  my  lofs:  And  yet  I  believe  I  (hall  fee  one 
 very  often,  for  it  is  a  dim  I  love  very  well .  But  I  pray 
 Sir,  did  you  ever  meet  with  any  body  that  had  one  of 
 thofe  precious  Feathers -i 
 
 The  good  man  was  forely  grieved  to  fee  the  fira- 
 plicity  and  innocence  of  fuch  perfons,  as  they  feemed 
 to  be,  fo  eafily  abufed  ;  and  therefore  he  thought 
 good  to  undifguife  himfelf  and  anfwered  him  in  plain 
 manner  to  this  effe&.  No  truly,  nor  do  I  care  one 
 ftraw  whether  I  ever  do  or  no.  For  though  I  have 
 heard  this  ftory  very  confidently  related  ,  yet  I 
 would  be  fony  if  you  mould  think  me  fo  credulous 
 as  to  receive  it  for  a  truth.  Nay  I  mould  hold  my 
 fclf  worthy  to  be  Chronicled  for  a  fool,  mould  I  va- 
 lue one  of  thofe  feathers  any  more,  than  fuch  an  one 
 as  a  Fool  wears  in  his  Gap.  And  I  cannot  but  won- 
 der that  men  with  fuch  Reverend  Beards  as  yours, 
 fhould  furrender  your  belief  to  fuch  fottifh  tales. 
 You  feem  otherwise  fagacious  enough,  and  therefore 
 whence  is  it  that  your  heads  are  fraught  with  fuch 
 
 fanes 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  4  j  e 
 
 fumes  that  they  cannot  difcern  the  grofnefs  of  thefe 
 cheats  C  If  you  can  fwallow  a  lye  io  great  as  this, 
 fure  the  ftory  of  GxrgAntuA  will  not.  ftick  with  you, 
 but  go  down  eafily.  Who  cutting  up  a  miraculoufly 
 great  Colewort  in  his  Garden,  within  the  leaves  of 
 which  fix  Pilgrims  like  your  felves  lay  afleep-,  eac  ic 
 and  them  one  morning  for  his  Breakfaft  in  a  Sailer. 
 Nay  you  will  be  able  to  digeft  what  follows,  how  thac 
 one  of  thofegotintoan  hollow  tooth  that  was  in  his 
 Mouth,  and  fo  faved  himfelf.  For  wondring  into 
 what  Gulph  it  was  that  he  was  fallen,  he  tried  if  it  were 
 poflible  to  feel  any  bottom  ;  and  at  lad  gave  his 
 tooth  fuch  a  prick  with  the  pike-end  of  hisftarT,  thac 
 the  Giant  immediately  fpit  him  our.  At  lead  I  may 
 well  think  that  if  you  had  lived  an  Age  or  two  agone, 
 you  would  have  gone  to  do  your  devotion  to  Thomts 
 a  Becker ;  reverently  kiffing  his  Breeches,  and  laying 
 your  lips  with  much  affe&ion  to  the  Handkerchief 
 wherewith  he  was  wont  to  wipe  his  fnotty  Nofe.  Nay 
 be  not  offended  I  befeech  you  at  the  expreflion,  nor 
 think  that  I  fpeak  with  too  much  rudenefs ;  for  they  ;,Era^  cM()li% 
 thought  it  none  I'll  aflure  you  heretofore,  to  offer  to  pew.  Ret. 
 the  peoples  faftitation,  fuch  an  holy  relique,  as  had  "** 
 the  very  prints  and  foot- fteps  of  the  Snot  ftill  remain- 
 ing upon  it. 
 
 I  cannot  but  be  offended  faid  one  of  the  company 
 at  thefe  reflections  of  yours  upon  the  Story  you  have 
 told  us,  and  me- thinks  you  do  vcr*  ill  to  laugh  ac 
 fuch  ferious  things ;  which  are  alfo  attefted  by  fo  ma- 
 ny and  fo  good  Authours,  thar,  if  your  heart  were  noc 
 very  ftony  and  hard  to  entucain  any  thing,  you 
 <ould  not  but  admit  them  for  truth.  If  they  were 
 worthy  a  ferious  confutation  replied  the  Father,  1 
 Kkk  2  fliouid 
 
4}  6  The  Tar  able  of  the  Vdgrtrn. 
 
 IhouM  but  render  my  felf  ridiculous  by  laughing,  at 
 them.     But  (incethey  appear  to  all  unprejudiced  men . 
 to  be  meer  fopperies,  it  is  I  think  our  duty  to  fmile  at 
 them.  For  the  Holy  Scripture  it  felf  doth  plainly  mock 
 at  the  folly  and  abfurdnefs  of  fome  mens  opinions  and 
 2 King.18.27.  doings.    You  remember  fure  how  Elijah  flouted  at 
 ifa. 44.15,16,  5^/andhis  Worfhippers,  when  hefaid,  perhaps  rheir 
 ,7'  God  was  a  talking  with  fome  body,  and  could  not 
 hear  them  both  together  ^  or  he  might  not  be  at  home 
 and  fo  could  give  no  anfwer  .  or  elfe  fo  faft  aflcep 
 (  having  eaten  perhaps  too  much  the  night  before  of 
 the  Sacrifices  which  they  brought  him)that  except  they 
 called  (till  louder  he  would  not  awake.     And  fo  the 
 Mount  of  Olives  is  called  by  way  of  contempt,  not 
 2  King.23.13.  Har  Mifcheh  the  Mount  of  Upclion,  but  HarMaJ'cbitb^ 
 the  M  unt  of  Corruption.    And  the  place  which  Ja- 
 cob had  called  Bethel  the  houfe  of  God,  is  called  by 
 Hof.  4. 15.    the  Prophet  infeorn  by  the  name  of  Beth  aven  the 
 houfe  of  Iniquity.     And  thus  a  wife  man  hath  long 
 ago  taught  us,  whom  you  reverence  as  well  as  I,  that 
 many  things  are  thus  to  be  rt felled ',  lejl  by  our  feriouf- 
 Tntul.adv.     „gfs  they  fhould  be  at  all  honoured.     They  ought  to  be 
 laught  out  of  countenance,   left  we  do   them  too 
 much  refpect  by  our  grave  handling  of  them.    And  yet 
 Ihavenot  done  fo  much,becaufe  I  think  thefe  things 
 are  fo  grofly  ridiculous,  that  they  laugh  themfelves  to 
 fcorn.   'I have  only  told  the  plain  ftoryof  them,  and 
 that  confutes  it  felf  fufficiently.     To  expofe  things 
 of  this  nature  to  the  World  is  abundantly  to  difprove 
 them.     To  bring  them  into  view  is  to  put  them  to 
 ihame,  and-  make  them  hide  their  face.     To  make 
 mention  of  them,  is  enough  to  filence  them.     We 
 need  not  be  at  the  trouble  to  abufe  them,  for  they 
 make  Invectives  againft  themfelves,  and  carry  their 
 
 own 
 
TJ?e  f  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  4  ]  7 
 
 own  Satyrs  in  their  bofome.  Not  to  fpeak  of  them  is 
 the  only  Civility  we  can  do  them.  It  is  necefl'ary  to 
 fliut  oar  eyes  if  you  would  not  have  us  fmile  at  the 
 folly  which  they  reveal  to  us.  We  do  not  firft  ftrip 
 them,  and  then  lay  the  lafh  upon  them  ;  for  as  foon  as 
 they  appear,  they  difcover  their  own  nakednefs,  and 
 carry  a  whip  at  theit  own  backs.  But  fuppofe  any 
 of  them  be  more  neatly  contrived  and  cunningly 
 painted  the  better  to  deceive  •,  would  you  not  have 
 us  pull  off  the  Mask  or  warn  offthe  paint,  that  we  may 
 fhew  things  in  their  proper  colours  i  That  is  all  that 
 we  intend  :  and  therefore  be  not  angry  at  it.  If  we 
 fhould  throw  never  fo  much  fait  in  your  face,  you 
 would  receive  no  harm  unlefs  you  be  raw  and  ulce- 
 rous. But  I  befeech  you  what  are  the  Authors  you 
 fpeak  of,  upon  whofe  credit  we  are  to  receive  thefe 
 things  are  they  not  fuch  as  need  fome  body  of  more 
 credit  to  be  their  Vouchers?  To  cite  the  authority  of 
 fuch  men ,  is  as  if  you  fhould  bring  thofe  for  your 
 furetiesj  for  whofe  honed y  not  only  Certificates,  but 
 alfo  pawns  and  engagements  of  Bodies  would  be  re- 
 quired from  other  men  that  are  better  known  than 
 themfelves.  Not  only  we,  but  fome  that  believe,  as- 
 you  do  in  other  things,  have  the  honefty  to  accufe 
 the  fraud  of  the  fir  ft  beginners  of  thefe  ftories,  and 
 the  folly  of  them  that  follow  their  Sotteries.  They 
 do  not  flick  to  fay  that  they  are  very  dull  people  and 
 fuch  as  never  are  wont  to  blow  their  Nofes,  who  do 
 not  fmell  the  forgery  of  them  that  firft  ftuft  their 
 Sermons,  and  then  their  Writings  with  fuch  like 
 tales.  Nay,  in  plain  words  they  tejl  us,  that  all  Hi- 
 ftories  within  feven  or  eight  hundred  years  laft  pad 
 are  fo  hydropically  fwollen  with  lying  Legends^  that  a 
 man  would  think  the  Authors  of  them  had  made  ic 
 
 their; 
 
TU  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim". 
 their  main  ftrife,  who   fhould  advance  the  greateft 
 number. 
 
 Then,|faid  one  of  the  Pilgrims,  you  do  not  believe, 
 I  warrant,  the  ftory  of  St.  John  the  Evangelift  ap- 
 pearing to  St.  Edward  the  Confejfour  in  luch  an  habic 
 as  you  now  fee  us  wear,  and  craving  an  Alms  of  him: 
 who  gave  him  his  Ring  off  from  his  finger,  knowing 
 nothing  but  that  he  was  a  poor  man  that  flood  in 
 need  of  a  great  Charity.    Did  not  God  do  a  great 
 honour  herein  to  Pilgrimages  and  the  holy  ReUques 
 which  they  went  to  vifit  <  Indeed,  faid  the  Father 
 again,  I  have  not  faith  enough  to  believe  it  ;  and  I 
 wonder  much  how  you  came  to  know  that  St.  John 
 went  a  begging  to  that  pious  Prince.     O,  faid  the 
 other,  that  is  a  thing  not  hard  to  be  known,  for  as  a  cer- 
 tain Abbot  hath  told  us,  St.  John  himfelf  revealed  it  to 
 two  Englifli  men  as  they  were  going  to  vifit  the  Holy 
 Sepulchre.    For  they  being  in  danger  to  lofe  them- 
 felves  in  an  unknown  Countrey,  were  directed  in  their 
 way  by  that  blefled  Apoftle.     Who  told  them  they 
 fhould  have  a  profperous  Voyage,  and  that  God  and 
 He  would  be  propitious  to  them  for  their  good  Kings 
 fake;  whom  I  loved  (faid  he)    very  tenderly  for 
 the  excellency  of  his  Chaftity.   I  am  John  the  Apoftle, 
 and  you  fhall  carryback  this  Ring  to  him  which  he 
 gave  me  fome  dayes  fince;  and  let  him  know  that 
 the  day  of  his  death  approaches,  and  that  fixmoneths 
 fhall  not  pafs  over  his  head,  ere  I  put  him  into  the 
 company  of  thofe  Virgins  which  follow  the  Lamb 
 wherefoever  he  goes.     Truly,   replyed  the  Father 
 with  a  fmile,  I  am  nomore  fatisfied  than  I  was  before ; 
 and  cannot  poflibly  refign  up  my  belief  to  any  fuch 
 relations  of  the  droniih  Monks  of  thofe  dayes.    This 
 
 ftory 
 
The  f arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  43  p 
 
 ftory  feems  to  me  to  be  juftas  true  as  another  which 
 the  fame  Abbot  reports 5  how  that  St.  Edward  one  day 
 faw  Jefa  cbrift  himfelf  upon  the  Altar,  ftretching 
 forth  his  hand  to  blefs  him  with  the  fign  of  the  Crofs, 
 as  he  was  worshipping  of  the  Hoft,  and  adoring  the 
 Divine  prefence  there.  A  thing  that  was  never  talkc 
 of  till  he  was  dead,  as  the  Author  of  it  acknowledges : 
 and  then  it  was  pretended,  that  he  had  given  it  in 
 charge  to  the  Earl  that  faw  this  apparition  with  him, 
 and  conjured  him  mofl  facredly  that  he  ihould  fay  no- 
 thing of  ic  while  he  lived.  Which  is  as  much  as  to 
 (ay,  that  it  (hould  not  be  told  while  it  could  be  con- 
 futed by  that  good  King,  who  would  have  made  this 
 lye  to  have  ftuck  in  the  Authors  throat. 
 
 I  perceive,  faid  another  of  the  Pilgrims,  that  you: 
 have  obftinately  bolted  your  heart  againft  all  thefe 
 pious  Stories ;  but  yet  I  hope  you  do  not  difallow  of 
 all  Pilgrimages ;  nor  think  it  is  unprofitable  for  the 
 fouls  health  to  go  to  JerufJem  to  WornYtp  at  the  Se- 
 pulchre of  our  Lord.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  replyed  he,. 
 all  isalike  to  me.  I  do  not  imagine  there  is  any  ho- 
 linefsinthat  Land  more  than  in  any  other  5  nor  can 
 I  have  any  opinion  of  any  SancTity  that  I  fhall  bring 
 away  with  me  if  I  fliould  go  thither.  And  therefore 
 it  is  far  better  to  employ  our  felves  well  at  home, 
 than  to  tukefo  long  a  journey  to  do  that  which  may 
 as  well  be  done  in  any  other  place.  That's  (trange, 
 anfwered  the  other,  I  fee  now  you  matter  not  though 
 you  disbelieve  the  Scriptures  themfelves,  which  give 
 us  many  examples  cf  Holy  Pilgrimages.  As  the  Lame 
 you  know  and  the  blind  went  up  to  Jerufalem  to  be  r.  tfum.  Ttfc 
 healed  in  the  Pool  of  Bethefda.  And  the  Eunuch  came 
 out  of  Ethiopia  to  Worfhipin  that  City  ;  and  at  cer- 
 tain 
 
^.4.0  The  Tardhle  of  the  <Pilgrbn. 
 
 taia  times  all  the  people  of  Jerusalem  went  up  to  their 
 Feafts,  which  I  have  been  told,  were  all  fo  many  Pil- 
 grimages. But  howfoever  that  be,  you  may  fee  if  you 
 will  that  they  are  as  old  as  Chrift  himfelf,  and  were 
 -conceived  as  wife  men  judge  at  the  very  fame  time 
 with  him.  For  he  went  a  Pilgrimage  in  the  Womb  of 
 PitfJ.s.cdp.2.  his  Mother  to  fee  Elizabeth  in  the  Hill  Countrey.  And 
 dtfrngr.  .after  that  he  went  from  Nazareth  in  Galilee  to  Beth- 
 lehem Judah  when  (he  was  near  the  time  of  her  travel. 
 And  as  he  honoured  Pilgrimages  thus  in  his  Mothers 
 belly,  fo  afterward  when  he  hung  on  her  breaft  he 
 travelled  into  Egypt,  and  after  that  returned  into 
 Judea,  and  every  year  went  up  to  the  Temple  of  Je- 
 rusalem. 
 
 I  have  waited  a  great  while,  (aid  the  Father,  who 
 here  interrupted  him,  for  fome  word  or  other  that 
 flioald  drop  from  your  mouth  to  the  purpofe :  But  I 
 have  no  hopes  to  meet  with  it.  Sure  you  have  for- 
 got what  you  were  fpeaking  about,  and  fome  holy 
 Feather  or  Toy  hath  taken  you  in  the  head,  which 
 you  dreamt  you  fhould  find  at  laft  in  fome  of  thefe 
 places.  Do  you  think  that  we  go  a  Pilgrimage  every 
 time  we  take  a  journey,  or  go  to  the  next  Church,  or 
 make  a  friend  a  Vifit,  or  are  carried  to  the  Bath  in  a 
 Litter  for  our  health  t  Or  was  there  fomething  facred 
 in  Auguftus  his  officers  or  any  holy  reliques  in  <I/Egyf>t\ 
 which  the  BlelTed  Virgin,  and  our  Saviour  went  to  do 
 fome  adoration  unto  i  Yes,  faid  the  other,  who  was 
 glad  to  catch  hold  of  this  laft  word,  there  were  the 
 Bones  of  Jeremiah  the  Prophet  to  which  perhaps 
 rhey  paid  a  refpeft,  for  he  lay  buried  in  the  Royal 
 City,  and  wasahvayes  honoured  by  the  <ALgyptian$  for 
 the  (insular  benefits  which  they  received  from  him. 
 
 You 
 
The.  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim  i  441 
 
 You  are  ignorant  perhaps  that  the  Crocodiles.and  ma- 
 Dy  hurtful  Serpents  were  banifhed  their  coatf,  by  his 
 incerccifion  ^  and  that  in  the  days  of  our  forefa- 
 thers the  faithful  were  wont  to  go  to  his  Tomb  and 
 fay  their  prayers ;  and  bringing  away  fome  of  the  duft 
 of  that  place,  it  was  a  certain  cure  for  thofe  who  were 
 hurt  by  any  venemous  beaft.  Indeed,  replyed  He,  we 
 are  much  indebted  to  the  Author  of  this  Legend,  who 
 hath  acquainted  us  with  fome  other  things  which  the 
 Holy  Writers  forgot  to  tell  us.  As  that  the  Prophec 
 Jeremiah  foretold  to  the  Egyptians  that  all  their 
 Images  ihould  fall  to  the  ground  when  a  Virgin  and 
 her  Son  ihould  come  into  that  Land.  W  hich  was  the 
 caufe,  faith  he,  that  even  in  thofe  days  they  placed 
 a  Virgin  in  her  Bed,  and  an  Infant  in  a  Manger,  and 
 gave  adoration  to  them.  Of  which  when  the  reafon 
 was  demanded  by  King  Ptolomy  (  you  muft  not  enquire 
 which  of  them  )  the  Priefts  anfwered  that  it  was  a 
 Myftery  delivered  by  their  Elders,  which  they  recei- ' 
 ved  from  the  Holy  Prophet.  Perhaps  then  you  think 
 that  the  Blefled  Virgin  went  to  let  her  Son  fee  thefe 
 fine  Pj&uresof  himlelf  and  her.  Or  that  they  took 
 this  Journey  to  provide  themfelves  with  a  Box  full 
 of  that  holy  duftagainft  a  time  of  need.  Sure  if  the 
 Jews  had  but  known  any  thing  of  that  knack,  it  would 
 have  ferved  them  very  much  ;  and  they  would  have 
 maintained  that  he  did  many  of  his  Miracles  in  the 
 Vertue  of  their  great  Prophet.  Was  this  the  reafon 
 think  you  that  they  faid  Jeremiah  was  rifen  from  the 
 'dead?  What  do  you  think  of  us  that  you  mould  ima- 
 gine it  poflible  to  captivate  our  belief  to  fuch  lubberly 
 lyes  as  thefe  i  Certainly  you  take  us  for  very,  thick- 
 skuli'd  people;  or  elfe  they  are  fo  themfelves,  whobe- 
 ftowing  their  time  rather  in  gleaning  what  is  fcattered 
 Lll  up 
 
441  Tiiefarahle  of  the  Pilgriml 
 
 up  and  down  in  every  place,  than  in  weighing  the  au- 
 thority of  the  men  from  whom  they  borrow  their 
 Notes  5  have  filled  their  Books  and  the  World  with 
 whole  Cart-loads  of  thefe  Chimerical  Stories. 
 
 Here  the  man  having  continued  mute  a  while,  at 
 lad  burft  out  into  thefe  words,  not  without  fome  paf- 
 fion.  Well,  1  will  produce  an  unanfwerable  place  s 
 where  the  Body  is,  there  will  the  E  tgles  be  gathered  toge- 
 :?itf>  i°5-  tfjer>  what  fay  you  now  ?  Is  this  alfo  to  no  purp  )le  i 
 muft  we  not  all  go  thither  where  the  BoJy  of  our  Sa- 
 viour is  ?  Alas !  replyed  the  Father,  what  an  igno- 
 rance have  1  lived  in  ever  fince  I  was  born  ?  Is  the  Bo- 
 dy of  Chrift  then  in  the  pofTeflfnn  of  the  Turks  ?  Have 
 thofe  Infidels  got  our  Lord  into  their  hands  i  Was  that 
 the  end  of  the  Holy  War  to  redeem  him  from  Cap- 
 tivity, and  refcue  him  out  of  the  power  of  his  enemies  ? 
 I  poor  foul  verily  believed  all  this  while  that  he  had 
 been  in  the  Heavens,  in  the  Jerufalem  which  is  above : 
 whither  I  and  my  Companion  are  travelling  as  faft  as 
 we  can.  Thither  if  you  have  a  mind  to  go,  come  along 
 with  us.  We  will  fly  if  you  pleafe,  like  fo  many  Eagles. 
 ."We  will  run  and  not  be  weary,  we  will  walk  and  not 
 faint ;  we  will  ftretch  our  wings  to  their  utmofl:  ex- 
 tent and  not  be  tyred.  In  this  Pilgrimage  we  are  con- 
 tent to  fpend  our  whole  lives,  but  ill  ill  think  that  we 
 arevcry  much  out  of  our  way,  fliould  we  enter  with 
 you  upon  any  other.  Here  he  gave  them  a  ftiort  de- 
 scription of  the  manner  of  their  life,  and  mewed  them 
 how  end  where  they  fought  for  Jcfta.  He  difcouried  of 
 Humilitypf  Charity,  andihe  reft  of  the  Vertues  which 
 are  fo  eminent  in  our  Saviours  Example :  The  imitati- 
 on of  whom,  faid  he,  was  ever  held  the  higheft  ho- 
 nour and  worfhip  that  could  be  given  him.     By  this  he 
 
 continues 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim]  44, 
 
 continues  ftill  in  the  World.  He  is  every  where  to 
 be  feen  in  his  faithful  followers.  They  brin^  his  li- 
 ving, walking  Image  into  every  place.  They  expofe 
 him  to  open  view  at  home  and  abroad.  They  endea- 
 vour to  have  their  houfes,  and  their  mops  in  fuch  good 
 order,  thac  you  need  not  go  to  Jerufalem  to  find 
 an  holy  place.  They  woulJ  lave  men  the  labo  r  of 
 raking  a  long  Pilgrimage  to  vifit  the  Shrines  of  the 
 Saints.  For  they  oecome  fuch  themfelves,  and  are  the 
 beft  reliquesof  them  which  the  World  affords.  And 
 left  you  lhould  think,  added  he,  that  we  adhere  too 
 much  to  our  own  Opinions,  and  put  too  great  a  fleighc 
 Lp3n  the  Pilgrimages  in  which  you  are  engaged,  let  me 
 intreat  you  patiently  to  hear  what  a  perion  of  great 
 .  Authority  with  you  Ipcaks  of  them,  in  an  Age  when 
 they  had  but  newly  begun  to  gain  a  reputation  among 
 men. 
 
 A  man  may  think  perhaps,  faith  St.  Gregory  Nyjjen,  r^r^t-  f1'-^ 
 that  ht-  doth  a  thing  of  great  notey  and  much  to  he  valued/?  *™ov™v 
 when  he  takes  a  Journey  to  the  place  where  our  Lord  was"  *  li&n^ 
 buried.  But  he  himfelf,  when  he  [peaks  ofthofe  that  flj  all 
 inherit  the  Kin gdom  of  Heaven,  doth  not  mention  the 
 Pilgrimages  to  Jerufalem  tts  a  worthy  undertaking.  Nor 
 when  he  pronounces  his  Beatitudes  t  doth  he  at  all  com- 
 mend this  labour  and  diligence,  why  jhould any  man 
 therefore  trouble  himfelf  about  that  which  will  not  make 
 him  Bl(ffedy  nor  difpofe  him  at  all  for  his  Ccelejltal  inhe- 
 ritance i  And  if there  were  no  dangers  {as  there  are 
 too  many)  cf  being  defiled  and  corrupted  in  the  pafj age 
 thither  by  fundry  vices,  yet  what  flj  all  a  man  be  the  bet- 
 ter when  he  arrives  in  fifty  there  f  Is  our  Lord  Jo  be 
 fund  there,  more  than  in  the  place  where  atprefent  we 
 are  i    cr  is -there  a  greater  me  a  fur  e  of  the  /rely  Spirit 
 
 Lll    2  At 
 
444  The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 at  Jcrufalem  ,  which  will  not  vouchsafe  to  come  hi- 
 ther ?  Muft  wcgofe  far  to  fetch  its  comforts,  and  will 
 it  not  be  intr gated  to  impart  them  nearer  at  hand  ? 
 Truly  I  mufl  needs  fey  that  1  fee  more  devotion,  more 
 piety  ,  more  of  all  divine  Ver tries  in  this  very  place ;  than 
 there  is  to  be  found.  I  my  [elf  went  thither  once  upon 
 my  occafions,  yet  I  did  not  feel  my  [elf  a  whit  the  wi- 
 fcr%  or  the  better  by  it.  what  I  believed  then,  I 
 believed  be  fere  >  what  J  did  t her r,  I  could  do  before  1 
 went  t hither ,  and  I  reaped  no  greater  benefit  by  my 
 Journey,  than  to  find  that  the  places  where  we  live  are 
 more  holy,  than  thofe  that  we  fe  much  admire.  You 
 therefore  that  fear  God,praife  him  there  where  yon  have 
 your  prefent  abode ,  and  trouble  not  your  fe  Ives  to  feek 
 any  other  place  wherein  to  do  him  honour.  The  change 
 of  f  lace  will  never  bring  you  nearer  to  him.  But  be 
 you  where  you  will)  there  God  will  be  too,  if  your  fouls 
 befit  to  give  him  lodging,  and  receive  fo  holy  a  guefl. 
 If  you  have  your  inward  man  full  of perverfe  and  evil 
 thoughts,  though  you  were  in  Golgotha,  though  you  food 
 upon  Mount  Olivet,  though  you  lay  even  under  the  Mo- 
 nument of  the  Refurretfion  y  you  are  as  far  from  enter- 
 taining Chrifi  as  theftones  that  inclofed  him.  ladvifc 
 therefore  all  the  Brethren,  that  they  travel  cut  of  the 
 Body  to  the  Lord,  and  not  to  go  out  of  Cappadocia  to 
 Palaeftine. 
 
 And  in  another  place  writing  to  certain  devout 
 perfons,  he  tells  them  that  there  is  nothing  more 
 pleafant  than  to  converfe  with  pious  Souls,  and  to  be- 
 hold what  things  the  Grace  of  our  Lord  hath  done 
 for  them.  Itisnole/s,  faith  he,  than  a  Feflival,  and 
 prefents  us  with  fuch  goodly  fpeclacles,  that  one  cannot 
 but  think  he  fees  in  an.  heart  full  of  God,  ^/^Beth- 
 lehem, 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  44f 
 
 lehem  and  Golgotha,  and  the  Mount  of  Olives',  and 
 the  place  oj  the  RefurroftLon.  shew  me  a  man  in  whom 
 Chrijl  is  formed  by  a  good  Conscience,  who  by  the  fear 
 of  God  is  trailed  to  the  Crofs.  who  hath  rolled  away  the 
 burdensome  St cne  of  worldly  ran'ty,  and  being  got  out 
 cfthe  Tomb  of  his  Body,  walks  in  newnefs  of  life,  who 
 leaving  the  low  and  creeping  life  of  the  world  in  which 
 he  was  buried,  afcends  by  the  force  of  lofty  de fires  to  the 
 C  eeleflialCcnvcrfation. who  fet  ting  his  affeilionson  things 
 above, is  not  weighed  down  by  the  weight  of  his  Body,  but 
 made  fc  light  And  ^t he  rial  by  a  purer  life, that  his  flcfjj be- 
 comes like  a  bright  cloud  which  is  willing  to  mount  up 
 with  him  to  the  things  en  high.  Thisperjon  in  my  'judg- 
 ment deferves  to  be'numbred  among  thofefo  much  cele- 
 brated things,  in  which  we  may  plainly  fee  the  Montt^ 
 ments  of  the  kindnefs  of  our  Lord  towards  us. 
 
 Thus  that  great  Man  delivers  his  Opinion  to  us, 
 and  we  cannot  but  readily  yield  him  our  aflent.     Thefe 
 are  the  Holy  Places  which  we  defire  to  behold.    A  man 
 dying  unto  fin,   prefents  us  with  the  faireft  fight  of 
 Chrift    Sepulchre.     Ic  fets  us  upon  Mount  olivet 
 when  we  meet  with  a  Soul  of  a  Cceleftial  Conver- 
 fation.     And  I  thank  our  Lord  very  much  that  I  fee 
 fuch  manifeft  marks  and  footfteps  of  thefe  things  in 
 this  my  friend  •,  in  whom  the  burying,  the  riling  agiin, 
 and  the  afcenfion  of  Chrift  is  mod  lively  pictured  be- 
 fore mine  eyes.    As  for  thofe  places  in  Paiefline  where 
 you  are  going  to  adore,   if  they  were  fo  little  worth 
 in  thofe  days,  I  think  their  price  is  more  fain  now  : 
 and  if  they  that  lived  nearer  to  them  thought  good  to 
 ft  ay  at  home,   it  will  be  a  filly  piece  of  fuperftition  in 
 us  to  travel  fo  far  in  devotion  to  them. 
 
 If 
 
446  .  Tl>e  Parable  of  the  Ttlgrim. 
 
 It  is  very  true,  faid  one  of  the  company,  I  am  con* 
 vinced  by  what  this  perfon  hath  difcourfed,  -that  we 
 need  not  go  to  Jerufalem.  There  is  a  place  nearer  at 
 hand  of  great  Sanctity  and  richer  in  all  Spiritual 
 treafnres,  and  that  is  Rome.  There,  as  I  have  been  in- 
 formed you  may  fee  feveral  Pilgi ims  (  and  in  time  may 
 have  that  honour  your  felf  )  who  dine  every  day  in  the 
 prefence  of  the  Vicar  of  Chriff,  and  that  of  meat  from 
 his  own  Table,and  blefTed  by  his  own  mod  holy  hands. 
 This  methinks  is  a  great  deal  better  than  tokifsacold 
 {rone,  or  to  take  a  mouth  full  of  air  on  the  top  of 
 a  Mountain.  And  befides  this,  which  is  the  lead  part  of 
 their  entertainment,  there  is  more  excellent  Provifbn 
 tfjcup&Mlk,  made  for  their  Souls  5  the  Church  of  St.  John  Later  an 
 cap.  2.  '  aff  fding  no  lefs  ftaa  forty  eight  years  of  Pardon  every 
 day  in  the  year,  together  with  the  Pardon  of  the  third 
 part  of  all  a  mans  fins.  And  if  you  would  have  fome 
 other  kind  of  food  for  your  fouls  which  is  more  vifible, 
 there  is  in  that  Church  to  be  beheld  among  other  Re- 
 liqucsjlbme  of  the  fragments  of  the  five  barly  loaves  and 
 the  two  fillies  wherewith  Chrift  fed  five  thoufand  men. 
 Some  poor  body  I  fuppofe  on  w  horn  they  might  be  be- 
 llowed after  diQncr  brought  them  thither,  being  fatis- 
 fied  by  the  nicer  fight  of  them,  and  hoping  that  others 
 might  be  fo  in  after  times.  But  the  more  probable 
 Opinion  is,  (fince  the  poor  and  rich  were  admitted  to 
 that  feaft  J  that  the  fragments  falling  to  the  fhare  of 
 thofe  that  waited  at  the  Table,  and  there  being  juft 
 twelve  Baskets  full  in  all ;  each  of  the  twelve  Apo- 
 ftles  had  one  for  his  portion  •  and  that  St.  Peter  faved 
 his  that  he  might  bring  it  to  Rome,  of  which  he  fore- 
 fawthat  he  fhould  be  made  Bifhop.  But  to  return  to 
 what  I  began  to  fay  concerning  the  pardon  of  fin 
 which  I  fuppofe  you  all  moft  eamenMy  defire.     The 
 
 liberal 
 
The  TaraBle  of  the  Tilgrhn.  4  47 
 
 liberal  grant  already  mentioned  is  but  a  mite  to  thofe 
 vaft  treafures  which  two  Popes  indowed  that  Church 
 withal,  who  gave  thereto  To  many  Indulgences  as  none 
 can  number  fave  God  alone.  So  my  Author  tells  me, 
 and  if  you  doubt  of  it,  Pope  Boniface  witnefles  to  the 
 truth  cf  it  in  thefe  words ;  If  men,  faith  he,  did  but 
 know  the  Indulgences  belonging  to  the  Church  of 
 St.  John,  and  how  many  they  were,  they  would  never 
 go  lb  far  beyond  the  Sea  as  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
 in  Jeru(.«Jem,  but  would  rather  fpare  fo  great  a  labour. 
 For  gran:  that  they  are  abfolved  there  both  from  the 
 guilt  and  alio  from  the  puniflment  of  their  fins,  this  is 
 no  inorethan  they  have  nearer  at  hand  in  the  Church 
 of  Sr.Jobn.  And  do  you  not  think  it  is  a  good  bargain 
 foramanto  forlake  totally  his  riches  and  lands  and 
 fuch  like  things,  that  he  m.iy  purchafe  fuch  an  incre- 
 dible mafs  of  Spiritual  and  Divine  riches  ?  And  yet  you 
 need  not  do  fo  much  ;  it  is  but  going  thither  and  lea- 
 ving your  goods  for  a  time,  and  then  befides  all  thefe 
 bleltings,  you  (hall  come  loadned  home  with  a  great 
 deal  more  precious  commodities,  fuch  as  Agnus  Deis, 
 Holy  Pictures,  Blcfied  Bread,  Sanctified  Wood,  and  a 
 •  great  many  other  invaluable  Jewels. 
 
 To  this  cifcourfe  when  one  liftned  very  devoutly 
 and  askt  him  if  a  man  might  have  all  this  Wealth  at  no 
 greater  charges  but  only  going  for  it ;  He  was  a  little 
 at  a  ftm.l  ^  And  cold  him  that  his  words  were  not  lb 
 to  be  interpreted  as  .if  he  might  go  fetch  fuch  great 
 bleflings  and  carry  no  money  with  him;  for  there  is 
 nothing  to  be  had  at  Rome  unlefs  you  buy  it.  It  is  not 
 to  be  expected  that  they  fliould  make  Holy  things  fo 
 cheap  as  to  give  them  away  for  asking.  Ic  never  was 
 fj  fince  there  were  Pilgrimages :  Bat  the  good  men 
 
 tbar 
 
448  '  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 that  undertook  them  carried  their  purfes  full  of  mo- 
 ney, and  exchanged  it  for  holy  Crofies,  bkfled  Grains 
 and  fuch  like  things  as  I  now  mentioned.  For  elfe  how 
 could  it  be  that  one  Monaftery  in  Helvetia  fliould  be 
 inriched  fo  much  by  the  offerings  of  Pilgrims  who 
 came  thither,  that  it  was  able  to  take  away  the  Tiles 
 that  covered  it,  and  inftead  thereof  to  lay  on  plates  of 
 Gold  and  Silver  i  But  I  hope  then,  replyed  the  other, 
 that  I  ilia.il  find  all  that  true  which  you  have  faid,  and 
 obtain  fo  many  pardons  as  you  promife,  which  indeed  I 
 am  willing  to  purchafe  at  any  rate.  O  Sir,  faid  He 
 again,  you  need  not  doubt  at  all  of  it.  I  have  told  you 
 nothing  yet  of  the  Holinefs  of  that  place  and  the  beau- 
 ty of  the  Church.  Which  is  not  fo  much  the  Miftrefs 
 ofthe  World,  as  the  Mother  of  the  Faithful,  themoft 
 indulgent  Mother  that  ever  was.There  is  none  can  tell 
 the  vaftnefs  of  her  Exchequer,  and  the  liberal  fums 
 which  iifue  out  thence  unto  her  children :  in  com- 
 pare with  which  all  that  flie  receives  from  them  is  noc 
 worth  the  naming.  In  a  little  Chappel  of  that  Church 
 of  St.  Jtbn  fore-  mentioned,  there  is  a  remiflion  for  all 
 fins  to  be  had  every  day.  And  not  far  from  it,  there  is 
 a  place  of  that  holinefs  that  you  may  have  no  lefs  than 
 three  and  thirty  thoufand  years  of  pardon,  for  once 
 going  up  a  pair  of  flairs.  Is  it  poflible  faid  the  other  ? 
 Sure  this  is  either  not  believed,  or  not  known,  for 
 otherwife  all  the  World  would  go  thither  to  be  de- 
 livered from  their  fin?.  Thereisnonelafliireyou,  re- 
 plyed he,  but  Hercticks  who  queftion  the  truth  of  it ; 
 and  I  cannot  tell  why  men  are  fo  negligent  of  their 
 Salvation  as  not  to  flock  more  than  they  do  to  thac 
 •Holy  City.  The  thing  is  plain  enough,  or  was  fo  not 
 long  ago  (and  I  doubt  not  of  the  care  of  the  Church 
 to  prcferve  things  of  fuch  value )  for  there  is  an  afcenc 
 
 of 
 
The  Tarahle  of  the  Pilgrim.  4  4p 
 
 of  three  and  thirty  fteps,  and  how  oft  foever  any  man 
 devoutly  goes  up  to  the  top  of  it,  for  every  ftep  he 
 hath  a  thoufand  years  of  pardon.  And  wonder  not  at 
 the  thing,  for  thele  fteps  you  muft  know  were  brought 
 from  Jerufalem,  and  are  the  very  fame  which  Chrift 
 afcended  when  he  went  up  before  Pontius  PiUte  to  be 
 judged  by  him.  The  women  indeed  may  take  it  ill 
 chat  they  are  not  fuffercd  to  come  into  this  Chappel 
 (it  being  called  the  Holy  of  Holies  5_)  and  to  fay  the 
 truth  I  was  much  grieved  for  them  when  I  firft  heard 
 this,  becaufe  I  know  that  they  have  Souls  as  well  as  we, 
 and  Sins  too.  But  afterward  having  more  diligently 
 fearched  into  the  matter,  1  found  chat  they  will  be  no 
 great  lofers  by  being  (hut  out  of  this  very  Sacred 
 place.  For  though  I  do  not  know  where  they  can  get 
 fo  many  years  of  pardon  at  once,  yet  it  is  provided  that 
 they  may  have  enough  •  and  left  they  mould  mur- 
 mur, I  can  tell  them  this  for  their  comfort,  that  they 
 may  obtain  them  without  the  labour  of  going  up  a 
 pair  of  flairs.  For  let  but  any  Pilgrim  of  either  (ex, 
 and  at  any  time  of  theyeargotovilit  the  Church  of 
 St.  Paul,  and  there  are  granted  to  all  and  every  of  them 
 by  three  gracious  Popes  no  lefs  than  nine  thnufand  ib.cap.$. 
 years  of  Pardon.  But  if  any  one  be  fo  great  a  finner 
 that  he  thinks  all  this  is  not  fufficient,  he  may  know 
 that  there  are  in  the  Church  of  St.  Peter  fo  many  In- 
 dulgences that  they  are  paft  numbring.  And  yet  in 
 the  Holy  time  of  Lent,  how  many  foever  they  be,  they 
 are  all  doubled.  I  fuppofe  that  you  \\  ill  think  it  need-  £ap.  4. 
 lefs  to  have  any  more  than  all  thefe,  but  if  you  are 
 afraid,  and  would  be  ftill  furniflicd  with  fome  additi- 
 onal Indulgences-,  it  is  but  going  to  the  Church  of  c«M4» 
 St.  MAty.ot  the  people^  and  to  thole  of  St.  Vitus  Mo- 
 aejtusj  and  a  thoufan  j  Martyrs  ^nd  there  you  may  have 
 M  m  m  a  great 
 
ac  0  Tk  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 a  great  many  thoufand  years  of  pardon  more  for  every 
 day,  and  befides  as  many  fortieth  parts  if  you  think 
 them  of  any  worth,  after  to  large  a  (lock,  which  fure 
 you  will  never  be  able  to  fpend. 
 
 Perhaps,  faid  the  Father,  it  was  intended  that  he 
 fliould  lend  fome  to  his  poor  neighbours  if  he  have  no 
 ule  of  all  this  treafure  himfelf,  for  fome  cf  them  may 
 not  be  able  to  go  thither.     And  therefore  in  my  mind 
 ( if  all  this  be  true  )  a  man  ought  not  to  refufe  the  leaft 
 bit  of  the  Charity  of  the  Church,  but  go  to  all  thefe 
 places  and  bring  away  as  many  Ages  of  Pardon  as  ever 
 he  can ;  that  fo  he  may  be  charitable  unco  others.     No 
 fuch  matter,  anfwered  the  other,  they  will  do  no  good 
 to  thofe  that  do  not  go  to  fetch  them ;  being  the  re- 
 ward of  the  labour  and  pains  that  a  man  takes  in  a  te- 
 dious Pilgrimage.    But  then,  faid  he  again,  me-thinks 
 the  Church  mould  be  fo  charitable  as  to  fend  greater 
 ftorethan  it  doth  of  thefe  bleflings  to  them  that  are 
 not  able  to  take  a  journey  for  them.    And  it  hath  made 
 me  wonder  very  much  that  Rome  mould  be  fo  holy  a 
 place,  and  that  a  pair  of  flairs  there  mould  be  of  fo 
 great  vertue,  as  to  procure  greater  favours  than  the 
 blood  of  Jejus  cbrijt  himfelf  in  any  other  Countrey.. 
 For  I  have  read  that  a  little  glafs  full  of  it  was  procured 
 from  the  Patriarch  of  Jeruf a/em  and  the  Matter  of  the 
 Matth.  varlf.  Templars,  and  fent  to  Henry  the  third  King  o{ England, 
 &  Mat.  wfi.  anc|  ^y  him  carried  in  great  devotion  on  his  bare  feet 
 H"tllil''      and  in  a  beggars  habit,  from  the  Church  of  St.  Paul 
 to  that  of  St.  Peters  at  wejlminfter :  and  yet  there  were 
 but  fix  years  of  pardon  and  an  hundred  and  fixteen 
 ( or  at  the  mod  forty )  dayes,  granted  to  thofe  that 
 fhould  come  to  worfliip  that  holy  Rehquc.     Doth  it 
 not  feem  to  you  very  unreafonable  that  the  fteps  on 
 
 which 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Tilgrim.  45 , 
 
 which  he  trod  fhould  exceed  fo  much  in  efficacy  the 
 blood  which  he  ilied  i  Is  there  not  a  vaft  disproporti- 
 on becween  three  and  thirty  thoufand  years  of  pardon 
 which  the  former  procures,  and  fix  poor  years  which 
 the  later  beftows?  How  comes  it  topafs  that  the  Pope 
 would  do  no  greater  honour  to  his  blood,  efpecially 
 fince  they  payed  fo  dearly  for  it  i  For  you  muft  know 
 that  it  was  fent  to  comfort  the  people  of  England  after 
 he  had  miferably  oppreffed  them,  by  levying  huge 
 fumms  of  money  and  excommunicating  all  that  refuted 
 to  pay  them.  It  feems  to  me  as  if  the  Blood  of  Chrift  in 
 felf  could  do  little  or  nothing  unlefs  it  be  at  Rome,  And 
 yet  that  is  not  the  bufinefs  neither,  for  fmaller  things 
 can  do  greater  matters  when  the  Pope  pleafeth.  It  is 
 not  many  years  agone,  fince  Clement  8.  fent  fome  baggs 
 full  of  little  Crofles  and  bleffed  Grains  to  be  distributed 
 among  the  people  of  France^  accompanied  with  this 
 Indulgence;  that whofoever  had  fome  ofthefc  grains 
 in  his  Beads,  mould  obtain  an  hundred  years  of  pardon 
 for  every  kifs  that  he  mould  at  any  time  beftow  upon 
 them.  Here  was  a  liberal  grant  indeed.  You  fee  what 
 your  holy  Father  can  do  if  he  lift  by  little  trifles  of  his 
 own  making.  And  therefore  all  that  I  am  able  to  con- 
 clude is  only  this,  that  nothing  can  work  any  more 
 than  the  Pope  will  let  it,  no  not  the  blood  of  Jefus 
 Chrift.  And  that  he  was  more  ftern  in  thofe  dayes 
 when  the  Fngli[h  were  enflaved  to  him  5  and  now  he 
 is  grown  bettepnatur'd,  and  ftudies  by  his  kindnefs  to 
 oblige  his  fubje&s,  left  they  mould  all  (hake  off  the 
 yoke  he  layes  upon  them.  Or  if  you  had  rather  fo 
 conceive  it,  there  is  nothing  that  he  can  part  withall 
 unlefs  you  pay  for  it :  only  now  and  then  he  affords 
 you  a  better  pennyworth,  and  lets  you  have  more  for 
 your  money  than  at  other  times,  that  he  may  gain  your 
 Mmm  2  cuftome 
 
4r  t  The  farable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 cuftome  and  induce  you  to  truft  him  fo  much  as  to  differ 
 him  to  ule  you  as  he  pleafes.     And  truly  he  ufed  our 
 forefathers  fo  hardly,  that  I  wonder  they  continued  his 
 chapmen  fo  long.     He  put  fuch  bafe  commodities,  fuch 
 counterfeit  ware  into  their  hands,  that  I  cannot  tell 
 what  mould  keep  them  from  difcovering  the  cheat.    I 
 am  afhamed  when  I  think  what  fools  he  made  of  them  t 
 and  how  he   ufed  them  like  little  infants,  impofing 
 what  he  thought  good  upon   their  belief.     Ic  makes 
 me  blufh  to  reflect  on  all  the  toyes  wherewith  he 
 gull'd  them  of  their  money.     He  feems  to  have  had 
 them  in  fuch  fervitude  that  he  had  fcarce  left  them  any 
 Souls  of  their  own,  bat  rifled  them  of  ail  their  reafon. 
 For  was  it  not  a  ftrange  fottimnefs  to  believe  that  he 
 had  bottled  up  the  blood  of  Chrift,  which  we  know 
 was  carried  into  the  Heavens  with  Him,  that  He  might 
 appear  therewith  before  God  for  us  and  perfect  our 
 expiation  >  and  yet  there  were  a  thoufand  of  thefe 
 tales  that  patted  for  currant  truth.     Nay  a  Frier  of 
 Gaunt  was  wont  to  fay,  that  thefe  godly  frauds  and 
 coufenages  were  the  Milk  which  St.?.**/ gave  to  Babes, 
 as  being  unable  to  digeft  the  harder  meat.    Since  He 
 intended  therefore  to  keep  the  World  alwayes  in  its 
 fwaditng  cloucs,  thofe  Nurfes  to  whom  he  committed 
 his  children  fed  them  with  little  elfe  but  this  Milk.  Of 
 vaifagb.       which  their  bottles  were  fo  full,  that  it  was  held  by 
 tick.  2.        wife  men  as  good  an  argument  to  fay,  He  is  a  Frier, 
 therefore  he  is  a  Lyer  5  as  to  fay,  This  is  White,  there- 
 fore it  hath  a  colour.     It  would  be  only  to  deflowre 
 the  time,  or  elfe  I  could  give  you  a  large  catalogue  of 
 their  forgeries.     And  if  this  little  that  hath  been  laid 
 will  not  ferve  to  open  your  eyes  to  fee  the  fraud,  you 
 may  go  on  totraffiquewith  Rome  as  thofe  before  you 
 have  done.    But  if  it  vend  fuch  MerchandiCe  as  this, 
 
Thi  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 roe-thinks  you  mould  judge  it  no  more  to  your  profit 
 to  go  thither  than  into  Turky  >  and  that  City  mould 
 be  as  little  in   your   thoughts  as  the  earthly  Jeru- 
 ftitm, 
 
 CHAP.  XXXVI. 
 
 How  the  Pilgrim  had  a  fair  fight  of  the  heavenly  Jerufa- 
 lem :  and  what  infued  thereupon.  How  eafie  it  is  by 
 a  true  andpafjionate Friendship  to  learn  the  great  eft 
 Love  to  Cod.  And  that  he  is  to  be  ftudied  and  ad- 
 mired  in  all  his  Creatures,  as  well  as  in  his  Son 
 Chnft. 
 
 TH  E  young  man  was  glad  to  hear  him  fpeak 
 thefe  words  becaufethey  lookt  like  a  conclufi- 
 on.  And  therefore  pulling  him  by  the  fleeve,  he  pray'd 
 him  not  to  wait  for  their  anfwer,  but  leave  them  to 
 mufc  of  what  he  had  reprefented  lb  plainly  to  their 
 minds.  And  I  wifhfaidhe  ( turning  towards  them; 
 that  if  you  regard  not  this  difcourfe,  there  were  fome 
 fuch  per  Con  here  as  St.  Gregory  to  whom  you  bear  a  re- 
 verence, that  he  might  tell  you  what  ht  thought  of 
 your  intended  Pilgrimages  to  Rome,  Loretto,  and  fuch 
 like  places.  No  doubt  he  would  inveigh  more  fharp- 
 ly  againft  them,  thin  thofe  into  Paleltine,  Think  I 
 befeech  you  upon  his  words,  and  if  you  be  not  plea- 
 fed  to  go  along  with  us  •  yet  forbear  at  leaft  thefe  need- 
 lefs  though  expenfive  journeys,  and  referve  your  mo- 
 ney for  ibme  ufesthar  will  turn  to  a  better  account, 
 And  fo  having  civilly  taken  their  leaves  of  each  other, 
 He  and  his  Guide  held  on  their  way  to  that  Holy  place 
 where  Jef/ts  himfelf  now  refides.     Several  things  they 
 
 difcourfed 
 
 45J 
 
454  The  Parole  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 difcourfed  of,  and  many  good  things  they  did  as  they 
 went  along  ;  till  at  laft  having  gained  the  top  of  an 
 high  hill  (which  without  fone  difficulty  could  not  be 
 climbed )  they  met  with  a  knot  of  more  excellent  pcr- 
 fons,whorecompencedforthe  tedioufnefs  of  chat  com- 
 pany into  which  they  had  lately  fain.  The  Spectacle 
 which  prefented  it  felf  was  no  lefs  wonderful  than  it 
 was  new.  For  there  they  beheld  fundry  Pilgrtms  like 
 themfelves  who  had  placed  their  bodies,  though  in 
 feveral  poftures,  asifthey  never  meant  to  ftir  from  that 
 place  ;  unlefs  it  was  to  be  carried  dire<5tly  up  to  Hea- 
 ven. Some  of  them  were  fain  upon  their  knees ;  and 
 with  their  hands  upon  their  breafts,  their  eyes  eleva- 
 ted towards  the  skies,  and  a  very  fmiling  countenance, 
 they  Teemed  not  fo  much  to  ask  as  to  polfefs  fomething 
 that  they  dearly  loved,  and  for  which  they  rendred 
 thanks  to  God.  Others  of  them  flood  gazing  upon 
 their  tip-  toes  $  with  their  mouths  open  and  their  eyes 
 fo  fixed,  as  if  their  Souls  were  gone  half  way  out  of 
 their  bodies  to  fetch  in  fomething  which  they  hungred 
 to  receive.  And  others  alfo  ftretched  out  their  arms 
 to  uich  a  length,  as  if  either  they  fawthat  thing  com- 
 ing to  them.:  or  elfe  they  thought  them  to  be  wings 
 whereby  they  could  fly  to  that  which  they  lookt  fo 
 greedily  upon.  For  this  they  obferved  after  a  careful 
 view  of  them,  that  every  one  direded  his  eyes  the 
 fame  way  •  as  if  they  waited  for  the  very  fame  good 
 to  defcend  into  their  embraces.  And  therefore  thefe 
 two  perfons  being  not  fo  much  ftartled  as  ravifhed  at 
 this  ftrange  fight,  thought  it  was  beft  for  them  to  do 
 fotoo;  and  to  try  if  they  could  make  any  difcovery 
 of  that  which  attracted  all  thefe  eyes  and  hearts  unto  it. 
 And  they  had  not  done  fo  very  long,  but  by  the  advan- 
 tage of  this  Mountain,  and  the  cleamefs  of  the  air3  and 
 
 the 
 
The  finable  of  the  Pilgrim.  a  cc 
 
 the  ftcadinefs  of  their  eyes,  and  the  quiet  and  filence 
 wherein  they  atl  were  ;  they  had  a  very  fair  profpecl 
 of  the  Heavenly  JeruJAlem, 
 
 Now  (  yoa  may  be  fure )  our  Pilgrims  heart  skipt 
 for  joy  5  and  he  began  to  blefs  the  happy  day  which 
 brought  him  hither,  vowing  that  it  liquid  be  markt  in 
 his  Calender  for  an  Holy  day  as  long  as  he  lived.     For 
 he  was  not  only  afliired  hereby  that  there  was  fuch  a 
 place,  bat  he  dilcovered  fomething  of  the  felicities  of 
 it  ;  which  here  met  him  with  a  delicious  entertain- 
 ment.   It  did  not  ieem  to  be  fci:ua:e  in  a  Region  like 
 to  any  that  he  had  as  yet  beheld  •,  but  in  one  fo  clear' 
 and  pure  that  the  sky  is  but  a  fmoaky  vapour  in  com- 
 pare with  it.     There  was  no  cloui  that  durft  be  fo 
 hold  as  to  come  within  fight  of  it ;  nor  was  there  any 
 darknefs  that  could  approach  to  fully  its  beauty.     But 
 as  there  was  a  perpetual  ferenity  about  it,  fo  anever- 
 lafting  day  was  one  of  the  principal  ornaments  of  it. 
 The  rayes  of  the  Sun  he  perceived  never  hid  them- 
 fe.ves  from  it  ;ifhe  judged  aright,  when  by  the  glitter- 
 ing of  the  place  he  thought   it  all  guilded  with  his 
 beams.    But  fometimcs  he  conceited  that  the  City  was 
 all  built  of  fuch  precious  ftones;  that  they  fupplyed 
 the  pace  of  the  Sun,  by  thofe  ftreams  of  light  which 
 ifliied  forth  from  every  one  of  them.     Nay  the  very 
 garments  of  the  inhabitants  (  which  he  could  dirceriv 
 alittlej  were  fo  glittering,  that  they  feemed  able  of 
 themfelves    to  create  a  continual  day  to  thofe  that 
 wore  them.   He  beheld  alfo  fome  winged  people,  (for 
 fuch  are  they  that  dwell  there)  come  flying  from  one 
 of  she  gates  of  the  City  very  fpeedily  towards  him  ; 
 who  told  him  that  they  accompanied  him  in  his  Journey 
 he  did  not  fee  :hcm  :  and  that  they  had  been. 
 
 IB 
 
456  Tlief  arable  of  thefilgrm. 
 
 at  Jerttfdem  to  carry  news  of  his  travels  thither,  and  to 
 relate  the  conftancy  and  refolvednefs  of  his  mind  in 
 this  purpofc :  and  that  they  were  fent  back  again  not 
 only  to  wait  upon  him,  but  to  let  him  know  that  the 
 Lord  of  the  place  did  wait  very  paflionately  for  his 
 arrival,  and  would  be  exceeding  glad  in  fafetyto  re- 
 ceive him. 
 
 Into  what  an  ecftafie  he  was  caft  by  this  relation,' 
 efpecially  when  he  heard  a  little  whifpering  noife  (for 
 it  was  no  more)  of  the  Mufick  and  the  melodious  Airs 
 which  thofe  Chorifters  of  Heaven  make  5  it  is  altoge- 
 ther neediefs  to  tell  you.  His  foul  was  almoft  allured 
 out  of  his  body  by  this  fight  •  and  was  held  in  by  fo 
 very  fmall  a  thred,  that  two  or  three  fharp  thoughts 
 more  cf  that  happy  place,  would  have  cut  in  two  that 
 (lender  tye.  He  verily  thought  that  this  was  Pifgab, 
 and  that  he  was  gone  up  to  dye  there.  And  when  he 
 faw  that  he  muft  (till  live,  yet  he  could  not  but  fay  to 
 his  Guide,  Let  us  build  us  a  Tabernacle  or  two  in  this 
 place ;  for  it  is  good  to  be  here,  until  thofe  winged 
 Miniftersfhallbeat  leifure  to  come  and  fetch  us  away 
 to  Heaven.  Surely,  faidhe,  it  cannot  be  long  before 
 they  do  us  that  favour.  Let  us  lit  ftill  a  while  and  fee 
 if  our  longing  fouls  in  the  pofture  wherein  they  have 
 been,  cannot  invite  them  to  give  us  fatisfaction  and 
 tranfport  us  thither.  But  his  Director  (to  whom  he 
 ever  u'ed  to  hearken  )  told  him  that  this  was  a  thing 
 which  a  man  might  rather  fancy  than  defire.  For  ic 
 could  not  be  permitted  that  they  mould  fit  alwayes 
 gazing  there^  neither  was  there  any  hopes  of  arriving 
 at  the  defired  place,  unlefs  by  their  own  diligence  in 
 fuch  things  as  God  would  have  them  employed,  they 
 ftill  endeavoured  to  creep  nearer  and  nearer  unto  it. 
 
 And 
 
Tfje  f  arable  of  the  filgrim.  457 
 
 Andme-thinks,  added  he,  ic  flr.Mild  be  fufficient  to 
 content  you  that  the  reft  of  your  way  carries  the  face 
 of  fuch  pleasure,  and  promifes  fo  much  eafe  and  faci- 
 lity to  you  in  your  paflage  ;  as  you  will  difcern  if  it 
 pleafe  you  buc  a  Uttle  to  turn  your  eyes  from  your 
 Journeys  end3  to  behold  the  path  that  leads  you  to  it. 
 
 With  that  the  young  mans  eyes  began  to  fall  a 
 little  from  thofe  lofty  places  whereon  they  had  been 
 fixed;  and  to  caft  themfelves  upon  the  ground  which 
 lay  below  under  his  feet,  in  which  he  was  at  prefenc 
 to  make  his  abode.  But  he  did  not  lofe  his  pleafure 
 by  taking  his  eyes  off  from  Jerufklem  5  for  the  road 
 which  lay  thither  appeared  now  fo  plain,  fo  fair  and 
 fmooth,  fo  free  from  bryers  and  thorns,  and  all  that 
 had  molefted  and  galled  him  before,  that  it  proved 
 the  beginning  of  Heaven  to  him.  The  Earth  he  faw 
 wks  every  where  loadned  with  fo  much  Plenty ;  that 
 nothing  troubled  him  but  only  that  he  could  not  fee 
 Travellers  enough  to  gather  it.  On  every  fide  of  him 
 there  were  fo  many  beautiful  flowers ;  that  he  could 
 fcarce  tell  whofe  invitation  to  accept,  when  they  feem- 
 ed  to  defire  to  be  pluckt  by  his  hands.  The  very  (tones 
 had  loft  the  hardnefs  and  roughnefs  of  their  nature ; 
 and  did  foften  and  fmooth  themfelves  when  the  feet 
 of  Pilgrims  came  to  opprefs  them.  And  all  the  way 
 likewise  was  fo  quiet  and  ftill,  that  if  a  leaf  wagged,  ic 
 was  by  the  iweet  breath  of  thofe  Muficians  which  fate 
 among  the  branches.  One  could  not  fpeak  fo  much 
 as  a  word,  but  an  Echo  from  the  Vault  of  Heaven 
 would  repeat  it ;  as  if  (he  had  a  great  defire  to  learn, 
 or  was  much  in  love  with  that  language.  Yea  all  the 
 Mountains  which  they  were  ftill  to  climb,  feemed  of 
 fo  eafie  afcent;  that  they  differed  nothing  from 
 N  n  n  the 
 
'4J&  Tk  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 the  plain  ground.  And  the  very  Trees  which  grew 
 upon  t!  «m  were  fo  ftraight  and  tall ;  that  they  feemed' 
 to  lift  up  t  ernfelves  above  the  clouds  to  beg  the  Hea- 
 venly Bodies,  that  they  would  fend  thek  pure  and  un- 
 ftained  influences  on  them  before  they  had  loft  any 
 thing  of  their  innocence,  and  were  defiled  by  their 
 paflage  through  our  unwholfome  Air  to  the  bofome 
 of  the  Earth.  Many  a  mile  one  might  pafs  through 
 a  Foreft  of  nothing  but  Myrtles  and  Lawrels ;  under 
 the  (hade  of  which  a  Traveller  might  lweetly  repofe 
 him  (elf,  and  dream  that  he  faw  the  Crowns  an  J  Gar- 
 lands w  hich  were  wreathing  for  him  in  Jtrufa&m.'Eve- 
 ry  Wood  alio  ( of  which  fome  ftages  wholly  confifted  ) 
 appeared  like  a  goodly  Orchard  ;  where  an  infinite 
 Variety  of  lovely  fruit  faluted  them  that  patted 
 thorow  it.  And  though  the  courteous  Apples,  with 
 all  the  reft,  feemed  to  bow  themfelves  to  kifs  the  Pil- 
 grims hands ;  yet  by  their  fragrancy  one  would  judge 
 that  they  were  not  of  a  meer  terreftrial  growth  5  but 
 fed  by  fome  invifible  roots  above,  from  which  they  de- 
 rived the  refined  nourimment  of  cceleftial  Juices. 
 From  the  furplufage  of  which  alfoit  was  (as  one  would- 
 be  tempted  to  think  )  that  the  Balm  and  all  other  Aro- 
 matick  Liquors  dropped;  which  had  no  other  ufe  in- 
 that  place  but  to  anoint  the  heads  of  them  whom 
 thofe  Trees  overfhadowed.  In  fhort,  this  way  that  he 
 had  now  to  pafs,  was  called  by  fome  Poetical  fancies 
 the  Laughter  and  Smile  of  Nature  3  by  others  a  Mo- 
 nopoly of  Pleafure  5  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  thefe  names  gave  him  any  fatisfa&ion,  nor  could  it 
 pleafe  him  to  hear  it  called  any  thing  elfe,  than  the 
 
 Enframe 
 
The  Parable  ef  the  Pilgrim.  4  j  9 
 
 Entrance  of  the  paradife  above.  And  indeed  when  he 
 came  to  tafte  of  the  fruit,  he  could  not  but  conclude 
 that  he  eat  of  the  Tree  of  Life  in  the  midfi  of  the  Garden 
 of  God ;  and  when  he  fek  thofc  distillations  en  his 
 head  ;  he  could  think  of  nothing  elfe  but  the  Untti- 
 enfrom  above.  All  the  things  in  this  defcription  ,were 
 but  fo  many  pictures  whereby  his  fancy  reprefented 
 to  him  the  happinefs  of  that  life  which  hereafter  he 
 hoped  to  lead ;  wherein  he  thought  to  find  every 
 thing  to  his  defire.  The  difficulties  of  his  Journey 
 feemed  now  to  be  overcome ;  and  every  ftep  he  faw 
 would  bring  him  to  a  new  pleafure.  There  was  no- 
 thing to  be  done,  but  what  promifed  to  gratifie  him 
 with  repeated  joys,  and  to  reward  his  labours  with 
 abundance  of  content  in  the  doing  of  it.  And  there 
 was  nothing  tobefuffered  which  threamedany  harm; 
 but  feemed  to  have  its  prickles  and  thorns,  and  to 
 court  men  into  its  embraces.  Now  he  thought  he 
 fliDuld  be  fo  happy  as  to  live  more  above,  and  hoida 
 conftant  communication  with  Heaven.  He  expected 
 to  furmount  the  clouds  wherein  he  had  been  wrapped, 
 and  to  live  in  a  purer  light,  and  enjoy  a  greater  fere- 
 nity  of  mind.  Now  he  hoped  to  pafs  his  time  in  fub- 
 limer  Meditations ;  in  a  fteadier  Faith,  in  a  more  ardent 
 Love  ;  in  more  comfortable  Expectations ;  in  quicker 
 taftes  of  the  good  things  to  come  •  and  fo  in  more 
 perfect  Peace  and  Joy  in  the  Holy  Ghoft.  In.fliort, 
 he  difcovercd  on  all  fides  both  prefent  fatisfactions, 
 and  future  hopes ;  with  larger  Affurances  alio  that 
 they  would  not  make  him  amamed. 
 
 Being  thus  then  fpurred  by  the  admonitions  of  his 
 
 Friend,  and  the  invitations  of  the  Way,   on  he  went 
 
 again  ( together  with  the  happy  Companion  of  his 
 
 Nnnz  Travels) 
 
s6  o  The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 Travels)  fometimes  calling  his  eye  upon  Jerttfalem^  and 
 fometimes  upon  his  ivay>  which  now  became  more  ea- 
 fie  and  more  delightful  to  him  than  ever  before.     But 
 having  defcended  a  little  from  the  head  of  that  lofty 
 Hill  where  they  had  flayed  thus  long ;  the  young  Pil- 
 grim ob.erved  that  he  had  loft  that  fair  fight  of  Jeru- 
 salem which  he  fo  much  admired.     At  which  he  began 
 to  be  furprized  with  a  little  qaivering  and  coldnefs  in 
 his  Body ;    till  his  Old  Comforter  told  him  that  this 
 ought  to  be  the  caufe  of  no  troublefome  thoughts.    For 
 the  whole  way  (  faid  he  )  to  that  place  confifts  much 
 of  Hills  and  Dales;   and  as  now  you  are  going  down 
 from  the  heights  wherein  you  have  been,    io  (hall  you 
 advance  again  in  due  time,  and  be  prefented  not  only 
 with  a  frefh,  but  with  a  fairer  fight  of  it.     He  told  him 
 alfo  how  impoflible  it  was  for  any  Traveller  to  remain 
 long  upon  thofe  Mountains,  where  the  Air  is  fo  quick 
 and  piercing  that  it  would  make  them  quit  their  earth- 
 ly Manfions.     And  wirhal  he  difcourfed  of  the  advan- 
 tage of  thofe  Vallie5,  and  (hewed  him  the  Silver  Brooks 
 full  of  the  Waters  of  Life  which  ran  in  thofe  humble 
 places:   together  with  all  the  pretty  flowers  where- 
 with the  verdant  banks  of  thofe  (treams  were  crowned. 
 In  fine  he  reprefented  to  him  that  they  were  fo  far  from 
 defcending  now  into  any  difmal  (hades  >    that  they 
 were  but  going  to  eafe  their  minds  with  a  litttle  variety 
 in  thefe  cool  levels,    which  were  almoft  fpent  and  ex- 
 haled by  fo  long  a  fight  of  Jerufalem  in  thofe  fuperiour 
 Regions.     Not  omitting  alfo  to  let  him  know  that  it 
 was  not  fo  impoffible  as  he  imagined  to  meet  with 
 fomething  of  it,    in  thofe  low  Meadows  into  which 
 they  were  now  entring ;    which  fpread  fo  goodly  a 
 Carpet  for  their  feet  to  tread  upon,    that  the  Hill 
 which  they  had  left  feemed  to  bow  its  Head  to  lojk 
 
 upon 
 
Tl:e  Parable  of  the  Vilgrim.  461 
 
 upon  the  richnefs  of  it  :  And  thereupon  he  fliewed  him 
 how  thofe  Cryftal  Waters,  which  he  heard  murmu- 
 ring, and  inviting  his  thirftto  quench  it  felf  in  their 
 ftrcams,  came  down  from  a  Spring  on  the  brow  of  that 
 Mountain  where  they  had  lately  been.  And  can  you 
 believe,  faid  he,  that  any  thing  can  flow  from  thence 
 which  brings  no  tydings  with  it  from  Jerusalem  ?  Tafte 
 and  fee  if  their  relilh  be  not  fuch  as  tells  you  from 
 whence  they  come,  and  makes  this  place  happy  winch 
 flows  with  fuch  contentment.  Believe  not  me  but  your 
 felf  (if  it  be  not  too  much  for  you  to  (loop  down 
 and  drink )  that  thefe  Vallies  are  watered  from  above, 
 and  receive  at  fecond  hand  what  the  more  rifing  ground 
 at  firft  enjoys. 
 
 The  Young  man  heard  him  very  obediently,  and 
 foon  fatisfied  himfelf  in  the  truth  of  what  he  faid,  by 
 tafting  of  the  Waters,  which  had  a  ftrong  tindture  of 
 Jerufalem.  For  the  Rays  that  come  from  it  and  beat 
 continually  upon  that  afpiring  Hill,  had  indued  the 
 whole  body  of  it  with  fomeof  their  Vertue,  which 
 might  conftantly  be  communicated  to  their  neighbour- 
 ing, though  lower  places.  He  was  immediately  in- 
 fpired  (I  mean)  with  a  great  heat  of  Divine  Love,  in 
 which  he  found  not  a  little  of  Heaven.  He  faw  that 
 Meditation,  Prayer,  and  fuch  like  holy  imployments 
 do  but  difpofe  the  will  to  ads  of  Charity,  and  doing 
 good  to  all,  according  as  God  hath  done  to  us.  The 
 clearer  fight  he  perceived  that  any  one  hath  of  the 
 Glory  to  come,  the  more  powerfully  is  his  heart  touch- 
 ed with  a  fervent  defire  and  endeavour  to  be  thus  im- 
 ployed.  This  is  the  natural  iflue  of  a  right  belief  of 
 what  Chrift  hathpromifed.  There  is  nothing  fo  na- 
 tnrally  flows  from  it  when  raifed  to  its  higheft  pitch,  as 
 
^6 1  "The  $AtMz  of  the  filgnm. 
 
 and  eaGneCsand  ^\eafure  in  doing  good ;  than  which 
 nothing  can  come  nearer  to  the  life  of  them  that 
 dwell  above.  He  faw  now  that  Jerufalem  might  be 
 found  in  the  houfesof  the  fick,  inHofpitals,  and  the 
 meaneft  places  where  Humility  and  Charily  can  find 
 themfelves  any  work.  If  he  met  with  a  poor  ftranger 
 that  moved  his  compaflion,  it  was  as  if  he  had  met 
 with  an  Angel.  If  any  differences  came  in  his  way 
 which  he  could  compofe,  it  was  as  if  Jefus  had  fpoken 
 peace  unto  him.  When  the  Orphans  and  Widows 
 gave  him  their  bleffmg,  it  was  as  if  he  had  received 
 one  from  Heaven.  And  all  this  gave  him  the  greater 
 fatisfattion,  becaufe  he  was  afraid  he  mould  have  met 
 with  it  no  where  elfe,  fave  only  on  fuch  Mountains  as 
 they  had  newly  left. 
 
 But  yet  I  muft  not  forget  to  tell  you  that  there 
 was  none  for  whom  he  felt  fuch  a  particular  kindnefs, 
 as  this  perfon  who  had  fo  charitably  conducted  him 
 and  made  every  condition  fo  pleating  to  him.  He  had 
 no  fooner  drunk  off  one  Cup  of  the  waters  named,  and 
 began  fome  actions  of  Charity  to  others,  but  he  felc 
 himfelf  all  over  in  a  flame  of  love  to  him.  Whatfo- 
 everhedid,  the  end  of  it  ftill  was  to  think  how  much 
 #  he  was  beholden  to  his  love  which  had  directed  him 
 to  this  moft  happy  life  of  doing  good.  One  would 
 have  thought  by  the  effects,  that  it  had  been  fuch  a 
 potion  as  they  call  a  Pbiltrum  which  hath  a  power,  it's 
 iaicL  to  fafcinate  Souls  $  and  draw  them  by  a  fweet  in- 
 chantment  to  that  party  who  adminifters  it  to  them. 
 And  to  tell  you  the  very  truth,  had  not  the  wifdom  of 
 his  Friend  again  prevented  ir,  this  had  proved  one 
 of  the  foreft  temptations  which  he  had  hitherto  en- 
 countredj  notwithftanding  all  the  good  counfel  where- 
 with 
 
Ttx  T  arable  of  the  Tilgnm.  4  6$ 
 
 with  he  had  been  armed.  For  as  he  was  wont  to  re- 
 port of  himfeif,  his  heart  was  Co  much  glewed  to  this 
 Friend  of  his ;  that  fome times  he  could  not  think  of 
 Jefta  or  Jerttfalem  meerly  for  thinking  of  Him.  He 
 thought  it  was  very  fad  that  any  onefhould  be  too 
 greedy  of  fo  innocent  a  pleafure  ;  but  yet  he  fancied 
 fometimes  that  he  was,  and  that  nothing  elfe  pleafed 
 him  but  oaly  the  fociety  of  this  perfon. 
 
 Who  now  therefore  thought  himfeif  concerned  to 
 have  a  more  than  ordinary  care  of  his  Patient,  be- 
 caufe  he  had  made  him  fick ;  or  at  leaft  been  an  occa- 
 fion  of  his  prefent  difeafe.  And  fo  quick  he  was  in  his 
 Applications,  that  it  could  fcarce  be  called  by  that 
 name ;  but  by  the  Vertue  of  his  Remedies  was  rather 
 turned  into  a  cure  of  other  diftempers ,  which  had 
 fome  root  within  him.  It  is  not  ftrange  (  laid  the  Old 
 man  )  that  I  mould  creep  fo  far  into  your  heart,,  if 
 you  do  but  confider  how  wide  we  open  our  breafts 
 to  thofe  things  which  are  of  great  ufc  and  advantage 
 to  us.  There  was  no  other  caufe  but  this  that  made 
 men  Deifie  certain  Creatures,  which  they  found  to 
 be  very  high  Benefactors  unto  them.  Have  you  ne- 
 ver heard  any  body  call  the  Sun  a  Yifiblc  God  f  And 
 what  was  it  I  befeech  you  that  procured  him  fomany 
 adorers,  but  the  fenfe  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  felf  that  you perceive 
 fuch  a  fervour  in  your  fool  to  me  your  poo*  friend  ; 
 whom  you  efteem  ( though  alas  unworthy  of Tuch  a 
 name)  to  be  no  lets  than  your  Treafurc..  This  will 
 juftirie  an  high  degree  of  afTcdion  towards  me.  And 
 there  is  no  danger  Vk  warrant  you,    of  proving  an 
 
 Idolatrous 
 
4^4  ^;e  Parable  of  the  (Pilgrim. 
 
 Idolatrous  Lover ,  if  ycu  will  but  let  me  (hew  you 
 how  eafily  you  may  make  me  become  what  ycu  call 
 me;  and  improve  this  Affe&ion  fo*  as  to  be  a  very 
 great  gainer  by  it.  But  fir  ft  I  muft  reveal  to  you  this 
 tecret,  which  you  have  not  hitherto  difcovered  5  thac 
 of  this  affection  I  my  felf  have  a  larger  (hare  than  yec 
 hath  appeared  -,  yea  to  your  own  perfon  I  have  noc 
 been  fo  cold  as  you  may  perhaps  imagine.  And  yec 
 lam  fo  far  from  thinking  my  felf  the  v-orfc  for  what 
 I  feel  of  it,  that  I  cake  my  felf  to  be  much  the  bet- 
 ter •  and  would  not  for  all  the  world  have  a  lefs 
 portion  of  it  than  I  perceive  you  find  in  your  own 
 heart. 
 
 Now  that  you  may  not  think  I  make  ufeof  Rheto- 
 rical figures  and  launch  cut  a  great  deal  beyond  the 
 truth  5  let  me  beg  fo  much  of  your  patience  ( who 
 as  you  confefs  have  Employed  much  of  mine  )  till  I 
 relate  what  benefit  I  have  found  by  loving  you.  For 
 then  I  hope  you  will  think  it  poflible  for  your  felf  to 
 reap  the  fame  :  and  not  to  be  troubled  for  the  excefs  of 
 love  you  bear  to  me  5  fince  thereby  you  receive  no 
 greater  hurr,  than  to  become  capable  of  enjoying  a 
 more  exceeding  advantage.     And   God  being  the 
 
 tChiefeft  Good,  the  higheft  object  of  our  Underftand- 
 ings,  the  fatisfadion  of  our  Wills,  the  Centre  of  all 
 rational  defires  ;  what  greater  commendation  can 
 there  be  of  Friendfliip,  than  that  it  is  apt  to  bring 
 our  fouls  into  a  fuller  pofieflion  of  this  Being,  who 
 is  the  caufe  of  all  other,  and  of  all  happinefs  i  Will 
 you  not  confefs  that  it  is  a  thing  cf  great  Ufe,  and 
 great  Value ;  which  {hall  indear  him  unto  you,  who 
 is  of  more  ufe  and  worth  than  the  Son  or  all  the 
 World.?  Now  if  you  can  give  anycredit  to  me,  you 
 
 may 
 
The  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim.  4^ 
 
 may  be  aflured  that  my  Friendfhip  with  you  hath 
 taught  me  not  only  that  God  is  Love,  but  what  it  is 
 to  love  God,  better  than  any  thing  elfe  perhaps  could 
 have  done.  And  what  is  this  Love,  but  as  you  have 
 often  heard,  the  whole  Duty  of  man ;  all  that  God  re- 
 quires of  us  that  we  may  enjoy  eternal  felicity  with 
 him  i  This  if  I  can  demonftrate,  I  fuppofe  you  will  no 
 longer  complain  of  an  excefs  of  this  excellent  affection, 
 which  may  fo  eafily  be  converted,  without  much  Art 
 or  contrivance,  into  one  fo  Divine,  that  God  himfelf 
 will  love  it  very  much. 
 
 And  if  you  would  know  by  what  Chymiftry  it  was 
 that  I  turned  this  Bafer  affection  (as  you  are  apt  to  call 
 it)  into  that  which  is  fo  noble  and  fublime ;  it  will  be 
 matter  of  no  difficulty  to  make  you  understand  it ;  for 
 there  was  no  longer  operation  in  it  than  this.  I  ufed  to 
 obfervewhat  it  was  that  my  loveaufed  me  to  do  to 
 you,  and  that  I  concluded  was  far  more  due  to  God.  And 
 fo  it  taught  me  (1 .)  To  think  often  of  him  and  to  keep 
 him  in  Mind ;  for  this  I  found  a  neceffary  effect  of  the 
 Friendfhip  I  have  with  you.  If  there  be  fomething  in 
 your/^4  that  is  grateful  to  me,  which  makes  me-  to 
 embrace  it  fo  dearly  and  carry  it  about  continually  with 
 me,  then  there  muft  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  occafions  lead  me.  And  fo  (2.)  I  learnt 
 by  loving  you,  to  take  a  delight  in  converfing  with 
 him,  and  to  embrace  or  ra  hr  feek  allopportunities  of 
 frequenting  his  company.  And  then  ( $.)  For  I  muft 
 not  ftjy  to  enlarge  thefe  things  into  long  difcourfes, 
 (but  leave  that  for  your  wo»k )  I  was  inftru&cd  hereby 
 todefirehis  acquaintance  more,  to  ihirft  after  an  in- 
 Ooo  timace 
 
+66  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgim. 
 
 tiroate familiarity  with  him,  and  co  be  more  perfectly 
 
 »  united  to  him.     (4J  To  be  highly  pleafed  alfo  in 
 
 him  was  another  fruit  of  this  Amity ;  To  reft  fo  fa- 
 tisfied  in  his  enjoyment,  as  to  want  nothing  to  com- 
 pleat  my  contentment.  And  (5.)  To  ftudy  with- 
 all  how  to  be  pleafing  to  him  5  or  rather  to  be  able 
 without  any  ftudy,  by  a  meer  likenefs  of  Nature,  to 
 do  all  things  agreeable  to  his  mind.  For  I  muft  take 
 fo  much  liberty  by  the  way  as  to  tell  you,  tnat  there 
 is  no  anxious  labour  in  love,  nor  any  carefulnefs  to 
 find  what  is  grateful  to  our  Beloved  >  but  we  have  a 
 natural  inclination  to  do  juft  as  they  would  have  us. 
 From  hence  (6  )  I  proceeded  to  like  well  of  what- 
 foever  He  doth  5  and  to  be  pleafed  with  all  his  Provi- 
 dences. For  we  alwayes  feel  our  felves  inclined  to 
 find  no  fault  with  our  Faends,  to  interpret  every 
 thing  to  the  beft  fenfe  $  and  rather  to  excufe  thit  which 
 is  ill,  than  think  that  they  cm  do  it.  And  ( 7. )  To 
 receive  all  his  kindneftes  with  afingularly  great  grati- 
 tude, as  proceeding  only  from  the  gooJnefs  of  his 
 own  nature,  and  not  from  any  defert  of  mice.  ( 8. )  To 
 keep  in  Memory  alfo  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  fee  you. 
 And  ( p. )  As  for  the  Holy  word  ( which  one  of  the 
 Ancient  Guides  ufed  to  call  the  Ejrijtle  of  God  to  man  ) 
 I  cannot  but  read  it  as  I  do  your  Letters,  with  a  great 
 deal  of  pleafure  and  transport.  And  ( to. )  Like- 
 wife  I  read  it  over  and  over  again  as  I  am  wont  to  do 
 your  Letters  $  not  being  content  with  a  imgle  plea- 
 lure  ;  nor  thinking  that  I  can  efpy  all  your  arTecTion 
 at  once  that  breaths  there.  And  (it.)  Do  you 
 think  that  I  can  live  and  not  long  to  hear  from  him, 
 or  that  I  can  be  fo  patient  as  not  to  defire  to  fee  him  f 
 
 No, 
 
The  Parahle  rf  the  Pilgrim.  467 
 
 No,  tam  ever  faying  as  the  holy  Pfalmift,  O  when  wilt 
 thou  come  unto  me  f  You  have  taught  me  to  contrive 
 ail  wayes  that  I  may  enjoy  him,  and  to  think  my 
 felf  more  happy  in  it,  than  all  the  world  can  make 
 me.  And  (12.)  Then  I  cannot  but  contrive  how  I 
 may  moft  ferve  him,  and  be  glad  of  any  occafion 
 which  is  offered  of  fo  doing.  For  you  may  be  confi- 
 dent I  (hould  fufpeel  my  love,  if  it  did  not  excite  me 
 to  render  you  all  the  fervices  that  are  in  my  power  > 
 and  make  me  ftudy  to  be  able  to  do  that,  which  is 
 now  out  of  thecompafs  of  it.  And  (13.)  Another 
 thing  for  which  I  ftand  indebted  to  your  love  is,  that 
 I  am  taught  thereby  to  be  very  tender  of  his  Honour, 
 and  to  be  troubled  that  any  body  mould  fpeak  evil 
 of  him  or  do  any  thing  againft  him.  Nay,  (14.)  Since 
 you  have  given  me  leave  to  love  you,  I  find  that  lam 
 defirous  that  every  Body  mould  love  him  that  is  fo  ami- 
 able in  my  eyes  5  juft  as  I  wifli  that  you  may  be  ac- 
 ceptable to  all,  and  never  meet  with  any  unkindnefs. 
 C15.)  I  have  learnt  alfo  to  confult  and  advife  with 
 him  upon  all  occafions,  and  to  open  as  it  were  my  ve- 
 ry heart  to  him.  (  16.  )  And  then  to  be  confident 
 of  his  help  5  and  to  expect  undoubtedly  to  receive  it 
 whenfoever  I  have  occafion  for  it.  To  which  (17.)  If 
 I  mould  not  add  tha:  .1  have  learnt  never  to  be  wea- 
 ry of  his  Compary,  but  ftill  to  take  a  frefh  delight 
 in  it,  I  (hould  much  forget  my  felf  j  for  that  it  is  a  moft 
 fenfible  crT-cl  of  your  Friencfhip.  And  f  18. )  So  is 
 this  5  To  be  loth  to  part  with  it,  and  to  hold  him  fo 
 fait  as  nor  t©  be  willing  to  let  him  go.  As  alfo 
 (  19. )  To  oe  impatient  of  his  abfence,  at  leaft  not  to 
 be  fo  well  my  where  elfe  as  I  am  with  him.  And 
 (  20.  )  la  fine,  To  long  ever  to  be  with  him ;  and  to 
 be  put  into  fuch  a  condition  that  I  may  never  have  the 
 O  0  0  2  trouble 
 
4  6  8  37*  P^r^^/e  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 trouble  of  parting  with  his  company,  which  alas  1  in 
 this  world  I  am  forced  too  oft  to  fufTer.  And  you 
 need  not  to  onder  that  I  have  learnt  this  laft  Lcflbn 
 by  ourFriendfhip,  for  if  you  and  I  could  now  leave 
 thefe  pleafant  Plains  wherein  we  are  ;  and  ftrip  our 
 felves  of  this  flefh  5  I  for  my  part  would  willingly  con- 
 fentuntoit,  if  I  had  aflurance  but  of  this  happinefs ; 
 that  I  fhould  take  you  by  the  hand,  and  we  mould 
 wander  up  and  down  in  the  Air  together. 
 
 I  had  almoft  forget  to  tell  you  another  happy  fruit 
 of  this  paflion,  and  that  is,  when  I  defire  any  thing 
 of  him,  to  leave  it  to  his  choice  and  difpoficion  •, 
 knowing  that  his  wife  Love  will  do  that  for  me,  which 
 is  moft  requifite  and  conducing  to  my  welfare.  Nay, 
 more  than  this,  I  feel  fuch  an  inclination  to  you,  thac 
 I  cannot  but  be  afhamed  if  lam  not  carried  with  fuch 
 a  Natural  affection  unto  God.  I  did  not  beg  of  my 
 Will  to  love  you  ;  for  I  was  furprifed  at  firft  fight 
 with  that  affection  •  and  felt  fuch  a  propenfion  to 
 you  as  the  Iron  doth  to  the  loadftonc,  which  cannot 
 chufe  but  be  ravifhed  and  attracted  by  ir.  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  bufinefs 
 to  be  referred  to  choice,  but  which  Nature  com- 
 mands, which  will  not  be  difobeyed  or  controlled 
 But  then  me-thinks  my  Soul  cannot  be  fo  du1!  (finding 
 it  felf  thus  difpofed  to  you)  as  to  ftay  to  ask  it  felf 
 a  reafon  why  it  mould  love  God  •  or  whether  it  will 
 love  or  no.  I  am  forced  to  love  him,  and  carried  to 
 him  by  fuch  a  ftrong  inclination  as  hath  no  Caufe  but 
 only  Nature.  At  leaft,  this  ft  ate  I  am  reaching  after  > 
 and  it  feems  very  unhandfome,  that  I  fhould  be  ever 
 telling  my  felf  that  there  is  this  and  that  caufe  why  I 
 
 fhould 
 
The  V arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  4  fy 
 
 fliould  love  God:  fori  would  be  fo  impreffed  by  hiir 
 r hie  cue  of  an  innate  tendency  of  mind  I  might  run 
 to  him  ;  or  rather  might  ihiibewich  him  and  have 
 him  continually  before  mine  eyes.  I  have  heard  ir,  I 
 remember,  affirmed  by  tome,  that  this  Love  of  Incli- 
 nation comes  only  from  a  Reminifcence,  or  calling 
 to  mindfuch  things  as  have  been  before.  Such  fouls, 
 fay  they,  have  been  acquainted  in  fome  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  fay  by  the  love  I  rind  to  God,  me- 
 thinks  they  are  not  withouc  the  countenance  of  fome 
 reafon.  For  my  Soul  feems  but  to  renew  an  ancient  ac- 
 quaintance with  him.  My  love  to  him  is  fo  natural 
 and  ealie,  thatic  is  juft  as  if  once  we  knew  one  another 
 before.  It  doth  not  feem  to  be  the  birth  of  an  aflfefti- 
 on  which  was  nor,  but  only  the  awakening  of  that 
 which  lay  afleep.  For  there  are  no  pangs,  no  diffi- 
 culty in  bringing  forth  this  Love  ;  but  we  open  our 
 eyes  and  fee  that  glorious  objeft  which  our  Souls  would 
 have,  and  cannot  but  fatten  themfelves  upon. 
 
 And  if  I  mould  add  an  heap  of  obfervations  to  thefe 
 of  another  fort,  and  thew  you  how  hereby  we  come  to 
 beperfwaded  of  Gods  Love  to  us;  and  to  have  fuch 
 high  thoughts  of  it  as  to  believe  he  is  ready  to  grant 
 us  any  thing  that  we  ask,  to  pafs  by  our  faults,  to  come 
 and  vifit  us,  to  fend  his  fervants  the  Angels  to  lee  us 
 and  wait  upon  us,  drc.  and  all  becaufe  he  is  our  F,  iend  $ 
 you  would  fee  a  further  u!e  of  this  divine  affe&ion, 
 and  be  convinced  that  we  cannot  but  live  uncomfor- 
 tably without  it.  And  in Jeed  if  any  one  m  )u!d  think 
 that  it  is  put  into  our  Souls  for  fo  poor  an  end  as  to 
 tickle  us  with  a  little  pleafure  in  civil  converfation,  and 
 
 to 
 
470  The  <ParMe  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 to  help  us  to  pas  away  the  time  more  merrily,  with- 
 out any  regard  to  thefe  Heavenly  u!es ;  it  would  be  as 
 abfurd  a  conceit,  as  to  imagine  the  Son  was  made  for 
 no  other  purpofebut  to  colour  the  cheeks  of  our  Ap- 
 ples, and  enlarge  the  Sphere  of  our  Cabbages.  No,  na- 
 ture will  not  let  us  deprefs  fo  far  this  darling  of  hers, 
 to  which  (he  is  inclined  above  all  other  things.  That 
 muft  needs  be  implanted  by  the  hand  of  God  to  which 
 all  men  have  a  propenfity ;  and  fince  it  is  very  ftrong, 
 overweighing  all  other  inclinations  ;  we  muft  needs 
 think  that  it  was  planted  in  them  to  do  them  fome 
 great  benefit,  and  to  be  the  inftrument  above  all  other 
 things  of  their  happinefs.  Now  what  is  there  to  which 
 we  have  a  more  inbred  inclination,  than  to  love  and 
 to  defire  to  be  beloved  <  There  is  no  man  but  hates  to 
 be  alone,  and  can  as  little  endure  to  be  with  thofe  for 
 whom  he  hath  no  love.  For  (till  he  is  alone,  if  thac 
 be  not  there.  A  croud  is  not  company 5  (  as  a  Wife 
 man  (ayes  )  and  Faces  are  but  a  Gallery  of  Pictures ; 
 and  Talk  but  a  Tinkling  Cymbal,  where  there  is  no 
 love.  Nay  ft  natural  is  this  to  us  ( and  withall  fo  fweet) 
 that  I  believe  there  is  no  man  in  the  World  who  for  all 
 the  wealth  in  it,  would  be  bound  to  love  nobody  and 
 to  be  beloved  of  none. 
 
 He  was  going  on  to  fome  further  difcourfes  on  this 
 fubjec"t,  when  the  other  cryed  out,  Hold,  do  not 
 wholly  impoverilh  this  argument,  but  leave  iomcthing 
 for  me  to  fay,  who  am  abundantly  fatisfied  that  the*  e 
 is  nothing  comparable  to  this  which  hath  been  the 
 caufe  of  my  trouble.  I  will  never  blame  my  felf  more 
 for  exceeding  too  much  in  this  fort  of  love.  I  plainly 
 ice  that  Mediocrity,  which  every  where  elfe  is  counted 
 a  Vertue,  doth  here  become  a  Vice.    I  am  more  than 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  '47 1 
 
 converted  by  yottt  excellent  difcourfe.  I  mud  tarn 
 Profelyte  to  him  who  laid,  That  be  would  btve  tbeAf- 
 fctfion  of  Friends  appear  rather  apaflion  than  a  Vert  tie  : 
 That  Friendship  hath  nothing  more  excellent  in  it  than 
 exce^ ;  and  that  it  doth  rather  offend  in  the  Moderation, 
 than  in  its  violence  and  extremity.  And  here  he  begin 
 to  invent  all  the  Praifes  he  could  of  FrienJiliip,  which 
 he  called,  The  top  and  perfection  of  Love ;  the  Soul  of 
 the  World,  the  Spirit  of  Nature,  the  bond  of  Socie- 
 ty, the  marriage  and  harpy  union  of  agreeing  minds, 
 the  life  and  joy  of  mankind,  the  relief  of  ourforrows, 
 the  Phyfitian  of  all  our  fecret  griefs,  our  Buckler  in 
 all  aflfaulcs,  our  Oracle  in  our  doubts,  the  Govemour 
 and  Tutor  of  a  profperous  condition,  the  Comforter 
 of  a  declining  fortune,  without  which  the  greateft 
 happinefs  would  be  irkfome  to  us,  and  in  whoTe  com- 
 pany the  greateft  affliction  cannot  make  us  miferab'e. 
 He  reflected  alfo  very  happily  on  this,  that  it  was  one 
 of  the  laft  things  that  Jeftts  hitnfelf  did  in  this  world, 
 to  make  a  Friendfhip  between  two  great  perfons,  his 
 blefled  Mother,  and  his  beloved  Dilciple.  Thefe  he 
 remembredour  Lord  would  have  to  live  together  like 
 Mother  and  Son;  which  he  thought  imported  fuch  a 
 dearnefs  between  them,  as  would  juftifie  the  height  of 
 his  affection.  And  then  he  cryed  out,  Thou  O  Di- 
 vine 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  alfo  know 
 Jerufalem  berter,  where  they  exercife  the  Nobleft 
 Friendftrips.  1  will  never  fear  thee  any  more  ;  for 
 I  fee  thou  wilt  fecure  my  duty  to  God,  and  it  will  be 
 ftran°e  if  my  neighbours  be  not  better  for  thee,  who 
 art  always  inftigating  me  to  do  good.  What  though 
 I  be  chained  more  to  one  perfon  thin  another,  you 
 
 need 
 
47i         •  The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrim.' 
 
 need  not  think,  O  Tons  of  men,  that  I  (hall  thereby  be- 
 come lefs  charitable  to  you:  for  my  love  finding  here 
 a  continual  employment  and  conftant  exercife  for  ic 
 felf  ;  I  am  the  more  difpolcd  and  ready  when  occafion 
 fcrves  to  exprefs  it  to  you  all.  My  retirements  can- 
 not work  its  decay ;  but  in  the  greatcft  privacy  this 
 friendlhip  keeps  any  ruft  from  growing  over  it,  and 
 preferves  it  pure  and  bright  for  the  ufe  of  others  too. 
 I  love  you  all  w  herefoever  you  dwell  on  the  face  of  the 
 whole  earth.  I  ftretch  out  my  hands  to  you  from  one 
 Pole  to  the  other ;  wiihing  I  could  do  you  good.  And 
 though  1  cannot  reach  you  every  one,  yet  my  love 
 gives  me  the  comfort  of  this  atfiirance,  that  God  is  with 
 you  ^  who  as  he  hath  a  greater  love,  fo  a  greater  ability 
 to  help  you  all. 
 
 But  his  Guide  who  was  better  acquainted  with  his 
 duty  than  himfelf,  thought  it  beft  to  bring  him  ouc  of 
 this  Rapcure  ;  becaufe  he  faw  that  he  would  immerfe 
 himfelf  too  far  in  the  pleafure  of  this  contemplation  •, 
 and  likewife  thought  it  was  not  fafe  to  gratifie  them- 
 feTves  with  too  much  of  this  H  ney  at  once.  He  pray- 
 ed him  therefore  to  lay  afide  this  difcourfe  a  while  and 
 to  divert  himrelf  with  the  obferva'ion  of  fome  of  thofe 
 flowers  and  plants  wherewith  they  faw  the  earth 
 i  ftrewed  as  they  went  along.  For  fure,  faid  he,  thefe 
 7  were  not  made  for  us  to  tread  upon,  nor  only  to  feed 
 our  eyes  with  their  grateful  Variety,  or  to  bring  a 
 ifweet  odour  to  our  Nofes  •,  but  there  is  a  more  internal 
 beau  y  in  them  for  our  minds  to  prey  up  n ;  did  we 
 burMet  them  penetrate  beyond  the  furface  of  thefe 
 things  into  their  hidden  properties.  You  are  a  Chri- 
 ftian  it  is  confeiTed,  but  doth  that  make  you  ceare  to 
 be  a  Man  i  You  read  the  Gofpcl  of  our  Saviour,  but 
 
 muft 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim .  4* $ 
 
 muft  that  give  a  difcharge  co  all  our  rational  inqui- 
 ries into  the  book  of  Nature?  Do:h  the  new  Creation 
 intend  to  deftroy  the  old  i  Or  becaufe  we  behold  God 
 in  the  face  of  Chrift,muft  we  look  upon  him  no  where 
 elteC  Nofucli  matter;  there  is  a  more  ancient  obli- 
 gation upon  you  to  ftudy  the  Works  of  God  ;  of  which 
 you  ought  to  quit  your  lelf  while  you  ftudy  his  Word. 
 It  is  an  honour  to  the  School  of  Chrift,  when  his  Di- 
 fciples  are  skill'd  in  all  Wifdom.  He  is  fuch  a  Matter 
 as  would  not  have  us  know  other  things  the  lefs,  but  the 
 more,  by  knowing  him.  And  fo  they  began  to  pry  into 
 many  airiofitics,  which  fevcral  of  the  Creatures  they 
 met  withall  presented  to  them  ;  not  without  a  greac 
 aftonifhment  at  that  infinite  undemanding  that  were 
 the  Contriver  of  them.  And  having  once  tafted  of 
 this  kind  of  Learning,  he  often  wiflied  that  it  was  in 
 his  power  to  understand  more  of  his  own  Body  $  of  the 
 motions  of  the  Sun,  Moon  and  o:her  ftars-  with  many 
 things  befides  in  this  great  Fabrick  •  wherein  he  knew 
 God  had  hid  great  treafures  of  Wiidom,  and  ingraven 
 a  fair  Image  of  himfelf.  Yea,  he  conceived  the  whole 
 World  fometimes  a  great  Temple,  and  himfelf  one  of 
 the  Priefts  that  God  had  placed  therein  to  offer  up  the 
 Praifes  of  all  the  Creatures,  and  acknowledge  his  Wif- 
 dom, his  Power,  his  Goodnefs ;  which  are  confpicuous 
 in  the  frame  of  them.  And  though  he  could  acquire  buc  % 
 a  very  fmall  knowledge  of  fame  of  them  ;  yet  it  was  a 
 great  pleafure  to  fee  that  there  were  many  more  intelli- 
 gent Priefts  than  himfe.f  and  more  acquainted  with  Na- 
 tures Myfteries*,  whorendred  to  God  continually  bet- 
 ter Praifes,  and  called  upon  all  his  works  in  all  places  of 
 his  Dominion  to  blefs  his  Holy  name. 
 
 Ppp  CHAP. 
 
.  74.  The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 CHAP.  XXXVII. 
 
 How  after  this  the  Pilgrim  fell  into  a  conceit  that  he  did 
 not  profit  in  Vertue:  and  hove  his  Guide  rid  him  of 
 it. That  we  mujl  not  make  too  much  hajle  toperfeclion^ 
 but  go  leifurely  in  our  way.  How  afterwards  he  feared 
 that  he  Should  never  hold  out  to  the  end  of  his  journey. 
 Of  the  confident  zeal  which  fome  men  are  pcjfejfed 
 withal.  A  beginning  of  a  new  difcourfe  about  Fan  h. 
 
 AN  D  now  would  you  think  after  he  had  gone 
 thus  far,  that  he  mould  be  troubled  with  fuch  an 
 odd  fancy  as  this,  That  he  did  not  profit  at  all  in  Ver- 
 tue ?  Yet  fo  it  was,  that  one  day  he  ferioufly  told  his 
 Friend,  He  could  not  perceive  that  he  had  dene  any 
 thing  worthy  of  himfelf,  or  made  any  proficiency  in 
 the  School  of  Piety  wherein  with  fo  much  care  he  had 
 been  bred. 
 
 No,  Caid  his  companion?  Nothing  at  all?  That  is 
 very  ftrange  indeed,  and  you  muft  pardon  me  if  I  tell 
 you  that  it  is  a  melancholy  conceit.  For  have  you 
 overcome  fo  many  temptations,  and  yet  done  nothing  i 
 Do  you  love  God  and  your  neighbour  fo  much  as  to 
 have  an  infinite  defire  of  doing  good  and  yet  not  at  all 
 bettered?  Have  you  fuffered  fuch  a  long  Martyrdom 
 and  yet  been  lazy  and  idle  f  Have  you  had  fo  miny 
 lights  of  Jerufale  /wand  yet  made  no  progrefs  in  your 
 journey?  Was  not  the  laft  Profpecl  which  you  gained 
 of  that  place,  fairer  than  the  former,  and  did  it  not 
 ifeem  nearer  and  dofertoyou?  how  fliould  that  come 
 |abcut,  if  you  had  flood  ftill  and  not  gone  forward 
 
 towards 
 
The  farahk  of  tin  Tdgrim.  47c 
 
 towards  it  <  Away  with  thefe  black  thoughts  which 
 the  fumes  of  melancholy  and  nothing  elfe  do  bicath 
 into  you.  For  my  part  I  think  you  have  profited  fo 
 much  5  that  I  pleale  my  felf  to  look  upon  you  no  Jefs 
 than  a  Gardener  doth  to  behold  the  Trees  which  he 
 planted  when  they  bring  forth  fruit  5  or  a  Father  re- 
 joyces  to  fee  the  children  of  his  cares  grown  up  to  the 
 ftature  of  men  and  women.  I  defire  only  that  you 
 would  cherim  an  honed  emulation  of  your  felf:  and 
 caft  ajralouseyeon  your  own  worth  left  you  ihou  d 
 not  be  fo  good  as  your  felf.  Do  buc  labour  not  to 
 come  behind  nor  fall  fliort  of  your  own  Vertue  5  Do 
 but  keep  up  clofe  to  your  own  example  }  and  I  fhall 
 think  you  fuch  a  proficient  that  I  fhall  glory  in  the 
 name  of  your  Inftrucler.  But  for  the  prefent,  come 
 along  w  ith  me,  and  let  us  refrelh  our  lelves  a  little 
 in  yonder  fair  Bowling-green  5  that  we  may  excite 
 thofe  natural  fpirits  which  I  fee  are  heavily  opprefled 
 by  that  grim  enemy,  I  juft  now  named,  of  all  pi- 
 ous Souls.  And  you  (hall  loon  fee  better  thoughts 
 in  your  Soul,  when  you  have  better  blood  in  your 
 Body. 
 
 With  much  ado  he  perfwaded  him  to  con  Tent  to 
 this  motion,  and  thought  hereby  he  received  fome  re- 
 lief, yet  the  fame  deje&ed  humour  too  much  continued. 
 For  his  mind  being  ftrongly  imprcfled  with  thofe  con- 
 ceits, they  could  not  fo  foon  be  difcharged  and  blotted 
 out.  Be(ides  the  continuance  therefore  of  that  exer- 
 cife  andtheufe  of  fome  Phyfick-,  he  thought  good  ac 
 feafonable  times  more  particularly  to  remember  all 
 that  the  Gracious  God  hath  done  for  him.  Bidding 
 him  to  take  great  heed  left  under  the  guife  of  this  Humi- 
 lity (as  it  is  efteemed)  he  proved  unthankful  for  Gods 
 P  p  p  2  favours  ^ 
 
47<$  Tk  f  arable  of  the  Ttlgrim. 
 
 favours ;  and  by  ftudying  to  deprefs  himfelf,  he  vvith- 
 all  depreiled  the  bounty  of  his  goodnefs.     He  let  him 
 know  alfo  that  the  perfection  which  he  aimed  at  ( the 
 want  whereof  might  poffibly  be  the  root  of  this  new 
 trouble)  was  not  to  be  attained  by  fuch  violent,  paf- 
 {ionate  and  impetuous  motions,  but  by  leifurely,  quiet 
 and  filent  fteps  unto  it.     Did  you  mind,  laid  he,  the 
 flowers  as  we  palled  along,  how  fome  were  hidden  in 
 their  green  Cups  ;  others  were  half-born  ;  and  the 
 reft  newly  difclofed  C   Or  have  you  never  marked  the 
 Rofe  how  it  fwells  into  fmall  knobs  or  buttons  i  which 
 when  they  are  full  grown,  do  rive  by  little  and  little 
 until  they  have  difcovered  all  their  treufuresc  Suppofe 
 you  mould  unbutton  it  as  foon  as  it  fwells,  or  go  about 
 iuddenly  to  rip  it  up  when  it  is  opening  it  felf,  would 
 you  not  endanger  the  fpoiling  of  its  beauties,  and  de-* 
 prive  your  felf  of  that  wholly,  which  you  defire  too 
 foon  to  enjoy?   Your  own  cafe  is  nothing  different  -7 
 and  if  you  will  not  be  content  to  grow  leilurely,  you 
 may  mifs  of  the  happinefs  at  which  you  would  (o  Ipee- 
 dily  arrive. You  muft  not  make  fo  much  hafte,  as  I  have 
 often  told  you.    You  muft  give  your  felfleaveto  ripen, 
 and  allow  a  fair  time  for  your  proceeding  to  perfecti- 
 on.    And  in  the  mean  fealon  be  not  fo  unreafonable 
 as  to  think  you  have  nothing,  becaufc  you  have  not 
 all  that  is  in  your  defires.     It  may  feem  ftrange 
 perhaps  at  firft  fight,  but  it  is  certainly  true  ;  that 
 the  defire  of  much   Vertue  may  prove   inordinate. 
 Though  you  may  think  that  it  can  never  be  too  paiTio- 
 nately  purfued,  yet  affure  your  felf,  your  defires  are 
 undue,  when  fuch  an  affliction  of  fpiric  attends  upon 
 them,  as  is  wont  to  accompany  the  defire  of  jother 
 things.     If  the  violence  and  fiercenefs  of  them  rend 
 your  heart  •,  there  may  be  as  much  hazard  in  it,  as 
 
 there 
 
Tta  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  477 
 
 there  is  in  tearing  up  a  Role  when  it  is  in  labour  to 
 bring  forth  its  leaves.  Thar  is,  you  will  never  befo 
 good  as  otherwite  you  might  $  nor  obtain  (o  much 
 by  your  own  eagernefs  as  would  come  of  ic  felf  in  a 
 courfe  of  nature.  I  do  not  intend  to  quench  your 
 Zeal,  nor  is  all  this  faid  to  make  you  lefs  fervent  in 
 your  ftudy  to  become  more  pious  $  or  to  move  vou  to 
 leave  all  to  Gods  Will  without  your  own  induftry. 
 But  my  meaning  is,  that  juft  ac  you  take  order  in  your 
 worldly  affairs,  fo  you  mould  manage  your  felf  in  thofe 
 cf  your  Soul.  Wemuft  be  diligent  in  the  purfuit  of 
 fuch  things  as  are  needful  for  our  Bodies ;  yet  we  ought 
 not  to  afni&  our  felves  with  the  anguim  of  cares  and 
 tears,  and  fuch  like  paflbns  •,  but  quietly  put  the  iflue 
 of  our  labours  into  Gods  hands,  and  patiently  expect 
 what  he  will  blefs  them  withall.  Even  fo  muft  you 
 beftir  your  felf  with  as  much  induftry  as  you  can  for 
 the  good  of  your  Sou!  >  yet  wichthis  condition,  that  if 
 you  cannot  acquire  all  that  you  would,  you  do  not 
 iuffcr  your  heart  to  fall  into  a  fit  of  impatience,  vexa- 
 tion^  and  fretting  at  yourprefent  eftate  •  which  muft 
 needs  be  joyned  with  a  greac  diftruft  of  God.  By  this 
 means  while  you  would  avoid  one  fault,  you  run  unto 
 another.  And  you  keep  your  felf  with  fach  violent 
 hands  from  comparing  your  defires,  that  youfeekfor 
 perfection  by  the  means  of  the  greateft  Imperfection  ; 
 and  would  redreis  your  diforders  by  conftantly .living 
 in  them.  You  muft  tha  k  God  therefore  for  what 
 he  gives,  and  patiently  wait  upon  him  for  more  when 
 hepleaiestobeftowu.  And  I  am  apt  to  think  that 
 Humility  and  fathnu  in  the  company  of  our  imper- 
 fections when  we  do  ourbeft  indeavour  to  out-grow 
 them  ;  is  as  acceptable  to  God  as  the  nobler  Improve- 
 ments of  others  that  complain  of.no  fuch  imperfections. 
 
 For, 
 
47  8  The  <P "arable  of  the  Vilgr'm^ 
 
 Fort'.eone  is  the  Gift  of  God  as  well  as  the  other; 
 and  he  that  gives  them  to  be  without  fuch  defefts^ 
 gives  you  Grace  to  bear  them  meekly  when  they  can- 
 not be  helpt. 
 
 I  would  have  you,  my  Friend,  not  to  ceafe  to  fol- 
 low the  braveft  Examples  •  and  when  you  cannot  be 
 Matter  of  all  you  defue,  yetftill  to  continue  your  de- 
 fire.  But  be  not  difgufted  at  your  felf,  I  befeech 
 you,  that  you  are  in  a  ftate  of  defire,  and  not  of  per- 
 fect enjoyment.  Let  not  this  take  away  your  peace, 
 that  you  are  not  in  the  foremoft  ranks  of  thofe  thac 
 are  marching  to  Jerufalem.  Be  not  caft  down  and  fore- 
 ly  affli&ed  within  your  felf,  that  you  do  not  advance  fo 
 faft  as  you  would.  Do  not  follow  your  Saviour  with 
 a  fowre  heart,  dejecled  looks,  and  fain  wings,  as  ma- 
 ny are  wont  to  do,  who  perpetually  lament  their 
 faults,  and  cannot  yet  amend  them.  But  render  him 
 moft  humble  thanks  that  he  hath  given  you  the 
 knowledge  of  them,  and  an  earneft  longing  to  be  with- 
 out them,  and  a  ftudy  to  make  them  off ;  together 
 with  good  hopes  that  they  may  be  cured  ;  or  that  as 
 fome  go  to  Heaven  in  the  height  of  Vertue,  fo  others 
 may  accompany  them  with  as  much  as  they  could 
 poliibly  attain.  All  have  not  the  fame  Temper,  the 
 fame  Diverfions,nor  the  fame  bufinefTes  in  the  World  ; 
 and  therefore  be  content  with  that  degree  which  your 
 condition  will  permit  you  to  rife  unto,  and  refolvc  not 
 to  vex  your  felf  unreafonably  about  that  which  is  not 
 in  your  power  to  remedy.  You  have  often  heard,  I 
 believe,  that  there  is  no  Peace  to  be  had  here  but  by 
 Patience. And  in  my  opinion  he  faid  true,  who  told  one 
 of  his  Ditciples  •,  That  it  is  no  Patience  when  a  man  is 
 content  to  bear  with  his  Neighbour,  if  withall  he  be 
 
 nor 
 
The  T  arable  of  the  Tilgrim,  47  9 
 
 not  content  to  bear  wich  himfelf.  Not  to  the  end  (  as 
 1  told  you  )  that  he  mould  indulge  himfelf  in  idlencfs, 
 and  not  ftrivetogrow  better-  but  that  all  the  pains 
 he  takes  to  be  fo,  fbould  not  end  in  forer  pains  and 
 greater  torments  becaufe  he  is  yet  no  better. 
 
 Many  other  things  he  added  to  the  fame  effect }  and 
 at  laft  prayed  him,  that  if  he  were  fain  intofuch  a 
 c'iflikeof  himfelf  as  to  be  weary  of  long  difcourfes  as 
 well  as  of  his  condition  •,  yet  at  leaft  he  would  obferve 
 thefe  three  things,  not  unworthy  of  his  notice,  though 
 they  were  the  advice  of  Heathens.  Hecaton  had  this 
 faying,  Askeft  thou  wherein  I  have  profited?  ihave 
 begun  to  be  a  friend  to  my ft If.  Such  a  man  hath  gotten 
 very  much.  He  will  never  be  alone,  but  alwayes  hath 
 a  good  Companion  with  him.  And  he  that  is  a  friend 
 to  himfelf,  will  not  fail  to  be  a  friend  to  every  body 
 elfe.  I  believe  you  cannot  deny,  that  you  might  have 
 madethrs  Anfwer  to  the  fame  Queftion.  You  have 
 begun  to  take  a  great  care  of  your  Soul.  Nay,  you  have 
 a  long  time  made  it  your  bufinefs  to  do  it  good.  And 
 if  you  ask  other  men,  they  will  tell  you  ;  that  you  are 
 a  friend  to  them,  and  have  done  them  alfo  a  great 
 deal  of  good.  How  came  you  to  grow  into  this  fami- 
 liarity with  your  Soul  i  What  made  you  to  let  it  have 
 fo  much  of  your  company?  Sure  it  is  a  fign  of  fome 
 proficiency  that  you  are  fo  well  acquainted  with  it.. 
 And  this  brings  to  my  mind  another  mark  of  your  in- 
 creafe  in  Vcrtue  which  is  vifible  even  in  your  com- 
 plaints. It  is  an  argument  (faith  Seneca)  of  a  mind, 
 that  is  changed  for  the  better^  -when  it  is  acquainted  with 
 tbofe  faults  which  it  was  ignorant  of  before.  To  which. 
 I  may  add  a  third.  Do  you  not  will  and  nill  alway 
 the  fame  thirgs?  Are  not  thofe  things  the  matter  of 
 
 your 
 
4?o  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 your  choice  to  day,  which  yefterdayyou  defi.ed?  Thu 
 u  a  teftimony  of  your  profiting)  to  be  conjiunt  toy  cut  felf. 
 And  therefore  take  heed  I  btfeech  you  of  this  fowrc 
 loathing  of  your  felf  >  for  in  time  ir  will  breed  a  dif- 
 like  of  your  duty  too,  and  fpoil  your  appetite  to  any 
 thing  that  is  good.  While  ycu  are  inordinately  trou- 
 bled that  you  cannot  do  as  you  would,  you  will  not  do 
 what  you  can.  And  in  a  multitude  of  confufed  defires 
 after  a  better  condition  ;  you  will  wafte  the  time  which 
 ought  tobefpent  in  doing  your  beft  in  your  prefenc 
 eftate. 
 
 With  thefe  good  Counfels  and  other  Remedies  too 
 long  to  be  related,  he  recovered  the  poor  man  to  a  bet- 
 ter ftate  of  health  ;  and  brought  him  to  conceive 
 a  bertcr  opinion  of  himtelf.  And  yet  his  health  was  not 
 fo  confirm'd,  but  that  afterward  he  fell  into  a  little 
 diftemper,  and  languished  under  a  new  trouble  $  very 
 near  of  kin  to  this,  and  which  it  brings  to  my  mind. 
 It  was  a  great  defpondency  arifing  from  the  obferva- 
 tion  of  fome  weaknclles  he  felt  in  his  Soul,  which  bred 
 in  him  a  diffidence  and  diftruft  of  his  own  conftancy  : 
 and  a  fear  that  he  mould  never  hold  out  in  his  Journey, 
 but  at  laft  fit  down  fhorc  of  Jerufalem.  This  made 
 him  exceeding  penfive,  and  to  go  drooping  a  great 
 while  ;  becaule  he  thought  that  eve;y  mile  would 
 prove  his  laft  ;  or  atleaft  that  he  mould  never  be  able 
 to  travel  folong  till  he  had  fmifhed  his  courfe.  Which 
 jealouiie  difcovering  it  felf  by  fome  means  or  other 
 unto  his  friend  ( though  he  did  what  he  could  to  con- 
 ceal it  J  He  was  moved  with  a  great  deal  of  pity  to- 
 wards him.  And  befceched  him  earned,  ly  not  to  lee 
 every  fufpicion  of  himfelf  which  ftarted  up  in  his 
 Soul,  make  fuch  a  deep  impreflion  theie  ;  before  he 
 
 had 
 
The  Parable  9f  the  Pilgrim.  481 
 
 had  advifed  whether  there  were  caufe  to  entertain  it 
 or  no.  For  if  you  had  asked  me  about  this  matter  as 
 foon  as  you  moved  the  doubt,  I  could  foon  have  made 
 you  give  your  felf  fatisfadion ;  and  laid  fuch  a  fcene 
 of  new  thoughts  in  your  mind,  that  you  fliould  have 
 remembred  the  former  no  more.  For,  tell  me,  I  pray 
 you,  who  brought  you  thus  far  in  this  long  Journey 
 wherein  you  are  engaged  i  Was  it  your  felf  ;  or  was 
 it  fome  body  elfe  1  If  it  was  your  felf,  you  know  upon 
 what  reafons  it  was  begun  5  and  if  they  were  worth 
 any  thing,  they  may  make  you  to  go  on.  And  it  ihould 
 feemalfo  that  you  have  more  ftrength  than  you  ima- 
 gine, if  you  have  travelled  fo  many  leagues,  without 
 any  fupport  5  upon  your  own  legs.  But  I  perceive 
 you  fo  ill  opinionated  of  your  felf,  that  you  are  incli- 
 ned by  that  if  there  were  no  other  reafon  5  to  afcribe 
 '  your  happy  progrefs  to  fome  higher  caufe.  Thither 
 let  us  go  then  ;  and  ask  of  God,  if  he  ufes  to  forfake 
 the  work  of  his  own  hands;  and  to  lofe  all  that  he 
 hath  done  already,  for  want  of  doing  a  little  more. 
 Will  he  now  forfake  you,  after  you  have  fervedhim 
 fo  many  years  i  Will  he  difown  one  that  hath  been 
 fo  long  a  Client  to  him,  and  ftill  feeks  for  his  wonted 
 protection  t  Doth  he  love  his  Friends  no  better,  than 
 to  fliake  them  off  when  they  grow  old  i  If  I  would  at 
 all  have  fufpe&ed  his  Conftancy,  it  mould  have  been  in 
 the  beginning  of  our  acquaintance  •,  and  not  now  that 
 he  hath  been  tryed  for  half  an  Age.  Was  there  any 
 reafon  at  firft  why  he  fhould  bear  a  good  will  to  you, 
 or  was  there  none  i  If  there  was  none,  then  there  needs 
 none  to  move  him  now  to  continue  his  Love.  .  If  there 
 was  any,  then  there  is  a  greater  reafon  now  ;  becaufe 
 he  hath  loved  you  fo  long,  and  you  are  alio  more  wor- 
 thy his  Love.  Do  him  the  honour  then  that  you 
 Q_q  q  would 
 
43  %  The  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 would  do  a  friend,  to  believe  that  he  is  not  fickle  and 
 inconftant.  Or  do  but  jufticeto  him,  and  think  than 
 he  is  not  unfaithful,  but  true  to  his  word.  And  then  as 
 long  as  your  Lord  lives,  you  (hall  live  alfo.  And  he 
 that  hath  begun  a  good  work  in  you,  will  perfect  it  no 
 doubt  till  he  come  to  give  you  his  rewards. 
 
 I  know  you  will  tell  me,  that  you  do  not  queftion 
 
 his  faithfulnefs  and  ftedfaftnefs  to  his  friends  5  but 
 
 you  have  been  unkind  to  him,  and  fo  have  forfeited  his 
 
 good  efteem  and  Love.     And  let  it  be  fo,  fince  it  is 
 
 your  pleafure  >  that  you  have  not  behaved  your  felf  fo 
 
 gratefully  as  you  ought :  But  is  he  of  fuch  a  difpofi- 
 
 tion,  that  he  can  never  be  won  to  a  Reconciliation  i  I 
 
 pray  have  a  care  what  you  fay,  for  fear  you  make 
 
 good  men  better  than  God  5  who  are  wont  to  forgive 
 
 their  Brother  when  he  repents,  not  only  feven  times, 
 
 but  feventy  times  feven.     And,  fay  I  befeech  you,  hath 
 
 he  not  pardoned  you  heretofore  very  lovingly  when 
 
 you  humbly  and  obediently  intreated  him  to  pafs  by 
 
 your  offences  i  When  you  were  one  of  the  World, 
 
 did  he  not  then  draw  you  to  himlelf  without  your 
 
 defire  <  and  over-matched  your  fins  by  his  infinite, 
 
 omnipotent  Goodnefs*  What  fhould  hinder  then  his 
 
 Itindnefs  and  clemency  towards  you,  now  that  you  are 
 
 become  a  man  feparate  from  the  World  t  If  the  Mire 
 
 and  Dirt  wherein  we  wallowed  could  tic  c  hinder,  but 
 
 he  would  needs  take  us  in  his  arms,  and  place  us  in 
 
 his  bofome5  will  he  fhake  us  off,  and  throw  us  out 
 
 from  thence,  now  that  we  are  warned  and  made  clean  t 
 
 Will 'he  not  rather  wipe  off  a  fpeck  of  Dirt  that  hath 
 
 light  upon  us,  than  cafl  us  down  into  the  Mire  again  i 
 
 Can  you  think  that  he  who  took  in  ftrangers  to  his 
 
 houfe,  and  gave  them  kind  entertainment ;  will  turn 
 
 *  his 
 
Tk  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  4  8  * 
 
 his  Children  out  of  doors  i  After  we  have  done  him 
 fo  many  ferviccs,  and  laboured  for  his  Love,  will  he 
 thruft  us  out  in  an  heat  of  anger,  and  quite  calheer 
 lis  Ins  family  i  O  abfurd  fufpiaon  !  A  jealoufie  un- 
 worthy of  luch  an  excellent  Father,  and  unbecoming 
 Sons  that  have  lb  nobly  and  tenderly  been  brought  up 
 by  him.  If  you  were  to  treat  with  a  perfon  like  your 
 felf,  you  mult  firft  think  him  very  bad  or,  elle  you 
 would  not  be  fo  injurious  as  to  harbour  fuch  thoughts 
 of  him.  You  mud  judge  him  very  froward,  who  will 
 fall  out  with  you  upon  every  flight  occafion  •  and  ne- 
 ver return  with  you  into  grace  any  mote.  Do  not 
 impute  then  a  thing  lb  unnatural  unto  God  5  nor  fo 
 much  wrong  his  infinite  Goodnefs,'  as  to  take  Him  to 
 be  of  fo  harm  a  difpofition ;  that  we  muft  never  expect 
 his  favour  more,  if  we  chance  but  to  offend  him.  No, 
 if  we  can  but  believe  that  he  loves  himfelf,  you  need 
 not  fear  that  he  mould  thus  abandon  you.  You  have 
 coft  him  too  much,  that  he  mould  fo  eafily  pare 
 with  you.  He  hath  bought  you  at  fo  exceflive  a 
 rate  •,  that  you  may  be  allured  he  will  not  willingly 
 lofe  you.  The  breeding  of  you  hath  flood  him  in  fo 
 much  care,  that  he  will  not  fpare  a  little  more  to 
 keep  you. 
 
 And  if  you  are  thus  fecure  of  God's  Love,  I  pray 
 tell  me  what  you  think  mould  feparate  you  from 
 him  !  Can  you  really  think  that  you  your  felf  (hall 
 have  a  mind  to  leave  him,  and  return  back  to  the 
 World  from  whence  you  came  1  You  cannot,  I  am 
 confident,  remain  two  minutes  in  this  perfwafion,  if 
 you  be  not  forfaken  of  your  Reafon,  and  left  to  the 
 impoftures  of  Fancy  and  wild  Imagination.  For  whac 
 is  it  that  caa  dilTolve  that  league  of  Friendfhip  that  is 
 
The  Varahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 fo  folemnly  and  religioufly  fwpm  betwixt  you  ?  is 
 there  any  thing  in  him  chat  can  difguft  you,  and  make 
 him  feem  lefs  amiable  in  your  eyes  <  Can  you  fear  that 
 his  converfation  may  grow  tedious,  and  prove  a  bur- 
 den to  you  in  the  conclufion  c"  or  what  prejudice  can 
 you  receive  by  loving  of  him  ;  feeing  you  believe  that 
 All  Good  is  in  him ;  and  that  he  calls  us  to  his  own 
 Kingdom  and  Glory  <  I  am  verily  perfwaded  you 
 think  that  you  cannot  ceafe  to  love  me,  to  whom  you 
 profefs  your  felf  fo  much  beholden.  And  yet  what 
 am  I  in  compare  with  him  ;  or  what  obligations  have 
 you  received  from  me  that  can  be  fo  ftrong  to  hold 
 you,  as  thofe  that  he  hath  laid  upon  you  1 1  may  change 
 andnotbefo  good  as  lam  ;.  or  not  fo  full  of  love  to 
 you.  Some  damage  may  appear  that  you  may  be  in 
 clanger  to  receive  by  loving  me  j  which  I  can  never  be 
 able  to  repair.  But  there  is  not  fo  much  as  a  fliadow 
 of  turning  in  him.  He  is  alwayes  the  fame  Fulnefs, 
 and  the  fame  Love  •,  infinitely  defirous  of  our  Happi- 
 nefs.  Andasforany  lofsthat  we  may poflibly  fuftain 
 for  his  fake  ;  it  cannot  befo  great,  but  he  can  make 
 us  a  recompence  for  it  incomparably  greater.  Do  not 
 hold  your  felf  then  in  fuch  fufpicion,  unlefs  you  can 
 think  that  you  have  taken  a  wrong  meafure  of  him  : 
 elpecially  fince  you  are  of  opinion  that  you  cannot  buc 
 love  me  to  the  end  5  and  alfo  have  fo  lately  told  me  that 
 you  were  fatisfied  the  love  of  me  would  teach  you  to 
 love  God  the  better. 
 
 I  fhould  proceed  to  remember  you  alfo  that  the 
 wayesof  Vertue  which  you  have  to  tread,  are  lbp!ea- 
 fanr,  that  you  willnot  be  inclined  to relinquifh  them, 
 and  divert  into  any  other  path,  and  that  you  can 
 never  think  fit  fo,  to  difparage  this  noble  life,  as  to 
 
 leave 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  485 
 
 leave  it  after  you  have  made  a  very  long  trial  of  it : 
 and  tiiat  you  will  not  endure  to  retreat  wftH  To  much 
 Jliame  as  you  will  neccflarily  draw  upon  your  felf,  by 
 abandoning  a  courfc  which  you  have  lb  highly  com- 
 mended: AH  this  I  fay,  and  much  more  I  mould  call 
 to  your  mind,  but  that  you  feem  to  difcharge  me  of 
 that  trouble  by  the  cheerfulnefs  which  I  obferve  to 
 return  into  ycur  countenance.  I  fee  that  you  begin  to 
 believe  that  you  (hall  perfevere  >  and  that  you  re- 
 cover your  ancient  comfort  •,  That  ftronger  is  he  who 
 dwelleth  in  you,  than  he  who  dwelleth  in  the  world. 
 The  Devil  begins  already  to  fly  from  you,  and  by  the 
 light  of  thefe  truths  we  have  chafed  away  the  cloud 
 that  hung  over  you.  Carry  them  therefore,  I  intreat 
 you,  ever  in  your  mind  5  and  lee  me  hear  no  more  of 
 thefe  dejections  of  fpirit,  which  afe  as  unreafonable  as 
 they  are  uncomfortable  both  to  your  felf  and  others. 
 Ill  fay  no  more  of  this  matter,  after  I  have  told  you 
 a  ftory  of  an  ancient  Pilgrim  in  the  way  to  Jertffdcm  ; 
 to  which  therefore  you  had  beft  attend.  It  is  Sr.  Peter, 
 Imean,whoyou  know  had  a  raind  to  walk  with  our 
 Saviour  upon  the  water ;  which  was  no  eafie  thing  to 
 do:  and  yet  by  the  potver  of  his  Matter  was  indued 
 withfuch  a  vertue,  as  to  tread  fafely  upon  that  yield- 
 ing element.  He  went  a  pretty  way  while  the  face  of 
 the  water  was  fmooth  and  eaven5  and-  it  (eemed  no- 
 thing different  from  the  folid  earth.  Until  the  wind 
 began  to  be  loud,  and  the  plain  way  upon  the  water 
 was  turned  into  Hills  and  Dales,  we  hear  of  no 
 fhrieks ;  but  then  he  cryed  out,  and  his  heart  and  Ins 
 feet  began  to  fink  together.  But  was  there  any  rea- 
 fon  to  fear  drowning  after  he  had  walked  half  a  fur- 
 long <  or  to  imagine  it  would  not  bear  him  up  the 
 next  half  as  well  as  it  had  done  the  forrrur  *  none  at 
 
 all 
 
4  8  <£  The  far  able  of  the  Tilgrirn. 
 
 all  fure.     The  winds  that  blew,  and  the  rough  waves 
 that  began  to  lift  up  themfelves  5   were  no  lei's  fub- 
 jccl  to  that  power  which  upheld  him,  than  the  fmootli 
 and  quiet  fui  face  of  the  Sea.     Ic  were  as  ealie  to  walk 
 upon  a  Billow,  as  upon  the  ftill  water.     The  blufter- 
 ing  wind  had  no  more  power  there,  than  the  filenc 
 Air.    Whence  then  proceedeth  this  change,  that  the 
 man  who  lately  trampled  upon  the  Sea  and  gloried 
 over  the  deep  •,  doth  now  feel  himfelf  Hip  into  the:  bo- 
 fome  of  it,  and  is  in  danger  to  be  fwallowed  up  by  it. 
 The  firm  ground  which  he  thought  was  under  him,  is 
 gone  •,  and  he  is  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  angry  waves. 
 Was  not  the  change  within  before  his  feet  felt  any? 
 Did  not  a  violent  tear  lay  hold  upon  him  •,  and  did  he 
 not  let  go  his  hold  of  the  hand  which  before  fuftained 
 him  <  Yes,  this  was  the  bufinefs.   If  his  faith  had  been 
 as  ftrongasonceit  was,  his  condition  had  been  asfafe 
 in  the  midft  of  the  ftorm,  as  before  it  was  in  the  calm. 
 When  this  Anchor  broke,  the  waters  began  to  fuck 
 him  in.    They  challenged  him  then  for  their  proper 
 goods  :  becaufe  his  Faith  was  in  a  manner  already 
 fljpwrackt.    Butdidhis  Gracious  Mafterfo  part  with 
 him  i  Would  he  lofe  a  fervant  becaufe  he  was  weak, 
 and  wanted  confidence  in  him  <  Or  did  he  delay  to 
 help  him,  and  only  hold  him  up  by  the  chin,  when  all 
 his  body  was  in  the  deep?  No ;  when  he  cryed  for  re- 
 ft* lief,  and  befeeched  to  be  faved,he  inftantly  put  forth 
 his  hand,  caught  hold  of  him,  and  refcued  him  from  the 
 jaws  of  death.     He  only  chides  him  becaufe  he  doubt- 
 ed ;  but  neither  lets  him  fink  into  the  belly  of  the 
 waters;  nor  ftayeshis  fuccours  till  he  was  in  greater 
 need  of  them.  He  ftraightway  lends  him  more  power; 
 and  chufes  rather  to  encourage  a  little  Faith,  than  let 
 him  perilh  becaufe  he  had  no  more. 
 
 Now 
 
77;*  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim.  487 
 
 Now  this  ftory  me- thinks,  bears  a  greac  refemblance 
 with  that  condition  wherein  you,  and  many  more  be- 
 fides  have  been.  We  have  a  great  mind  to  go  to  Je- 
 fus^  and  for  that  end  to  walk  here  in  the  World  as  he 
 walked.  But  it  is  very  much  that  we  who  are  fo  earthly, 
 and  have  fuch  ponderous  affections  to  things  here  be- 
 low, fhould  be  able  to  tread  them  under  our  feet ;  and 
 keep  our  felves  above  the  foft  pleafures  of  the  fleih  in- 
 to which  we  are  apt  to  fink.  This  fcems  no  lefs  a 
 wonder,  than  it  was  for  a  body  of  earth  to  walk  upon 
 the  face  of  the  Sea,  which  ufes  to  fwallow  down  fuch 
 heavy  things  that  come  into  it.  Whence  is  it,  I  pray, 
 that  we  have  this  ftrength,  and  can  lift  up  our  felves 
 above  our  natural  propenfions  to  lead  the  life  of  God  i 
 Is  it  from  our  own  Vertue  i  or  rather  muft  we  not  ac- 
 knowledge that  we  receive  k  from  that  voice  which 
 faith  to  us,  as  unto  the  Apoftle  of  our  Lord,  come  ? 
 This  fure  is  the  caufe  to  which  it  muft  be  afcribed. 
 And  it  cannot  be  of  lefs  efficacy  afterward,  than  it  was 
 at  the  firft ;  but  when  he  ftill  faith,  Follow  we,  he  gives 
 a  greater  power  and  force  unto  us  fo  to  do.  But  how 
 comes  it  about  then  that  you  and  others  begin  fome- 
 times  to  fink  ;  or  at  leaft  to  imagine  that  you  are 
 falling  into  the  World;  and  that  the  fenfual  life  will 
 at  laft  draw  you  into  its  embraces  again  >  Truly,  there 
 is  the  fame  caufe  of  it,  that  there  was  in  him  ;  and  that 
 is  Diffidence.  You  forget  your  felf  and  diftruft  God  • 
 and  that  works  a  decay  of  the  Vertue  and  ability  that 
 was  in  your  heart.  You  regard  more  the  winds  and 
 the  waves,  the  difficulties  and  temptations  that  you 
 areincompafTedwithall,  than  the  power  and  the  love 
 of  Jefus  which  attends  upon  you  ;  and  fa  you  begin 
 firft  to  fear,  and  then  to  fall.  Yet  behold  what  a  loving 
 and  kind  Mafter  you  ferve.    He  doth  not  take  this  fo 
 
 ill 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgim. 
 
 ill  at  your  hands  as  to  let  you  quite  go  :  and  fall  ftill 
 lower  and  lower  into  the  water,  until  you  be  drown'd : 
 But  if  you  look  earneftly  upon  him,  and  call  to  him, 
 and  intreat  him  to  take  pity  upon  you,  and  not  to 
 leave  you  $  he  gives  you  his  hand  prefendy,  and  fets 
 you  in  fafety.  Though  now  you  have  been  very  di- 
 ftruftful  of  his  goodnefs  ♦,  and  have  fainted  in  your 
 mind,  as  if  he  would  not  regard  you  •  yet  his  tender- 
 nefs  is  fo  great,  that  he  bids  me  allure  you  he  will  not 
 forfakeyou  j  nor  fail  to  fupport  and  help  your  feeble 
 foul.  Only  in  his  name  I  muft  a  little  chide  you;  an  J 
 give  yon  a  gentle  reproof  in  his  own  words,  faying, 
 O  thou  of lit tie  Faith,  wherefore  didfi  thou  doubt  f  I  fay 
 no  more,  becaufe  I  fee  you  are  forrowful,  and  hope  you 
 will  give  me  no  more  the  like  trouble. 
 
 Indeed,  replyed  the  Pilgrim,  I  deferve  a  more  fevere 
 reprehenfion,  and  you  deal  too  favourably  with  me 
 when  yougiveme  fo  mild  a  rebuke.  But  I  fuppofe 
 you  ufe  me  thus  tenderly  that  I  may  be  fenfible  of  the 
 gracious  nature  of  our  Lord  5  who  hath  compafTnn 
 on  our  weaknefs,  and  is  loth  to  difcourage  thofe  by 
 any  fharpnefs  of  his,  who  are  too  apt  to  invent  over 
 many  difcouragements  to  themfelves.  And  truly  I  am 
 fo  apprehenfive  of  his  lenity,  and  behold  alfo  fo  great  a 
 portion  of  it  in  your  felf  5  that  were  it  not  upon  that 
 account,  I  mould  again  be  apt  to  ftand  in  fear  of  cre- 
 ating not  only  you,  but  him  a  greater  trouble  than  you 
 are  able  to  bear.  I  am  you  fee,  very  foolilh,  alwayes 
 complaining  and  exercifing  your  patience.  I  have  to 
 many  fcruples  and  little  fears  •,  am  fo  unconftant  and 
 wavering  in  my  thoughts  $  fo  frequently  fick  and  out 
 of  order  •,  fo  forgetful  alfo  of  your  counfels  ;  that 
 perhaps  by  this  time  you  begin  to.  reflect  and  confider 
 
 how 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrhn.  4$? 
 
 how  great  a  burden  you  have  drawn  upon  your  fel£ 
 by  undertaking  the  charge  of  me.  And  I  pray  tell  me 
 fincerely  whether  you  are  not  a  little  weary  <sf  me,  and 
 do  not  wifh  your  felf  rid  of  fuch  an  impediment,  for  I 
 can  fcarcc  call  my  felf  your  Friend  any  longer,  but 
 your  Trouble^  or  your  Burden.  Tell  me,  I  fay,  is  not 
 this  a  fitter  name  for  me  than  any  elfe  i  And  can  you 
 find  in  your  heart  to  own  that  fweet  relation  to  him 
 any  more ;  who  hath  made  himfelf  fo  unpleafing  on  all 
 occafions,  and  nothing  but  difquieted  your  happy  re- 
 pofe:"  I  doubt  if  you  could  fee  my  heart,  and  behold 
 what  a  feed  of  new  troubles  and  doubts  lodges  there  ; 
 you  would  rell  me  plainly  that  you  fhall  never  enjoy 
 your  felf  till  you  be  divorced  from  me» 
 
 You  furprife  me  ftrangeiy,  faid  the  Good  old  man, 
 and  did  I  not  consider  that  you  have  fufpected  the 
 kindnefs  of  God  himfelf,  I  mould  be  fo  amazed  at  this 
 alteration  in  you,  as  to  lofe  the  ufe  of  words,  and  not 
 know  what  to  fay  to  you.  Little  did  I  think  that  I 
 fhould  ever  have  had  an  occafion  to  anfwer  fuch  a  que- 
 ftionasthatyoU  propofe,  forfure  you  never  difcerned 
 that  I  had  a  mind  to  be  feparated  from  you.  And 
 truly  Inever  difcerned  any  fuch  thing  in  my  felf;  nor 
 have  you  given  me  caufe  to  be  lefs  your  Friend  than 
 heretofore  ;  unlefs  it  be  by  this  unfriendly  jealoufie, 
 which,  as  I  told  you  a  little  while  ago,  I  thought  you 
 would  never  have  entertained.  And  {ince  I  fee  it  pro- 
 ceeds rather  from  an  ill  opinion  of  your  felf,  than  any 
 you  have  of  me^  I  recall  that  word  5  and  pray  you  to 
 believe  chat  you  are  as  dear  unto  me  as  ever,  that  is 
 my  friend.  And  what  I  pray  you  is  the  office  of  a  friend, 
 if  not  to  relieve  the  wants  of  thofe  he  loves  5  and  to 
 bear  thofe  burdens  with  them  which  they  are  not  able 
 R  r  r  to 
 
4p  0  Tbt  farahle  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 to  carry  alone  i  If  they  themfelves  therefore  by  rei- 
 fonof  any  heavinefs  of  Spirit.,  prove  the  burden  that 
 he  muft  fuftain,  He  will  not  complain  of  it.     It  is  their 
 unhappinefs  he  knows  both  that  they  are  fo  heavy, 
 and  are  in  danger  they  think  to  be  a  load  to  him  •  and 
 He  will  not  let  them  be  more  unhappy,  by  becoming 
 heavy  himfelf,  and  groaning  under  that  eafie  vveighc 
 which  they  lay  upon  him.    Ealie  I  call  it,  becaufe  it 
 is  a  pleafure  to  do  any  kindnefs  for  our  friends  ^  and 
 the  pleafure   encreafes  proportionably  to  the  pains 
 that  we  take  in  doing  of  it.     You  (lull  hear  the 
 Judgement  of  aPhilofopherinthiscafeif  you  pleafe  -7 
 and  of  one  that   loved  eafe  more  than  .any  of  his 
 fellows.     Though  a  wife  man  he  thought  might  be 
 content  with  himfelf ;  yet  noevvithftanding  he  grant- 
 ed that  his  happinefs  would  be  greater  with  a  friend. 
 Of  fuch  a  companion  he  cannot  but  be  defirous,  if  it 
 be  for  no  other  end,  but  to  exercife  his  amity-  and 
 that  fo  great  a  vertue  may  not  remain  without  ufe. 
 He  doth  not  cbufe  a  friend  ([faith  Epicurus  himfelf) 
 to  have  fome  to  afjift  him  when  he  is  Jick,  or  to  fuccour 
 him  if  he  be  inprifon,  or  fuch  neceffities.     But  contra- 
 riwife,  that  he  may  have  one  whom  he  may  help  and  com- 
 fort in  the  like  dijlreffes.  For  he  hath  an  evil  intention 
 that  only  r  efpecls  himfelf  when  he  makes  FriendfJjip. 
 And  fojhallhe  endhis  friendflnp  as  he  begun  the  fame. 
 He  that  hath  pur  chafed  himfelf  a  friend  to  the  intent 
 that  he  may  be  fuccouredby  him  inprifon  ;  rvill  take  his 
 fight  as  foon  as  he  feels  that  he  is  releafed  of  his  bonds. 
 Both  the  chains  fljatl  be  knockt  off  together^  thofe  of  his 
 prifon,  and  thofe  of  his  friend/hip.  Thefe  a  re  the  friend- 
 ships which  we  vulgarly  call  Temporary ,  being  made  only 
 to  ferve  a,  turn.     He  that  is  made  a  friend  for  profit 
 fake^  fhall  pleafe  as  long  as  he  mxy  be  profitable  ;  and  fo 
 
 they. 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Tilgrbn.  4p, 
 
 they  who  are  infelicity  fee  themfelves  invirond  with  a 
 multitude  of  thefe  followers  ;  But  where  the  difirejjed 
 dwell,  there  is  nothing  but  Jolitude.  Forfuch  manner 
 of  friends  alw ayes  avoid  thofe places  where  they  may  he 
 proved.  It  is  necefjary  that  the  beginning  and  the  end 
 have  a  correjfiondence.  He  that  hath  begun  to  be  a  friend 
 becaufe  it  is  expedient ;  he  that  hath  thought  there  is  a, 
 gain  in  friend/hip  be  fide  it  felf$  may  well  be  fubornd 
 againft  the  fame  by  the  appearance  andoffers  ofagreater 
 gain.  For  what  caufe  then  do  I  entertain  a  Friend  ? 
 To  the  end  I  may  have  one  for  whom  I  may  dye ;  whom 
 j  may  accompany  in  banifhment,  and  for  whofe  life 
 and  preservation  I  may  expofe  my  felf  to  any  danger. 
 For  the  other ,  rvhich  only  regards  profit,  and  makes  ac- 
 count of  that  which  may  turn  to  its  own  commodity  • 
 it  is  rather  a  traffique  than  Friendfhip.  Certain  it  is 
 that  Friendjbip  hath  in  Jome  fort  a  fimilitude  and  like- 
 nefs  to  the  affection  of  Lovers,  whofe  [cope  is  neither 
 gain  nor  greatnef,  nor  glory  •  but  defpi/ing  all  other 
 considerations,  love  it  (elf  inkindles  in  them  a  defire  of 
 the  beloved  form,  under  hopes  of  a  mutual  and  recipro- 
 cal amity.     Thus  he. 
 
 Unlefs  you  will  number  me  then  among  thofe  Sum- 
 mer Friends  whichhefpeaksof.  or  think  that  friend- 
 fhip  in  me  is  feebler  than  it  was  in  Pagans ;  yon  muft 
 not  hold  me  any  longer  in  fufpicion.  And  indeed  if 
 you  did  but  know  how  great  a  favour  you  ao 
 me,  in  letting  me  know  your  griefs,,  and  making 
 me  the  Witnefs  of  your  confeience,  and  relying  up- 
 on me  for  advice,  and  thereby  giving  me  an  oppor- 
 tunity to  ferve  you  the  beft  I  can  5  you  would  pre- 
 fently  throw  away  all  thefe  imaginations  which  the 
 enemy  of  Souls,  and  of  Friendfhip  would  inftil  into 
 Rrr  2  you. 
 
492  Tk  Taruhle  of  the  filgrim. 
 
 you.  For  my  part,  I  did  notfo  lightly  and  in  fporc 
 receive  you  into  my  conduct  $  as  that  any  difficulty, 
 or  a  multitude  of  them  mould  make  my  employment 
 tedious  to  me.  Nay,  how  can  it  be  irkfome ;  vvhea 
 you  your  felf  acknowledge,  that  the  Labours  of  Love 
 .  are  all  plcafure,  and  carry  their  own  rewards  in  them? 
 You  may  think  perhaps  that  love  grows  old  as  well  as 
 all  other  things,  and  that  rime  works  its  decay,  and 
 renders  it  feeble  and  weak.  Thus  Attains  was  wont 
 co  fay,  that  it  is  far  more  pleafant  to  make  a  Friend, 
 than  to  have  one.  As  it  is  more  agreeable  to  a  Pain- 
 ters fancy,  to  draw  his  lines,  than  to  have  finiflied  the: 
 Picture.  After  he  hath  painted  indeed  he  pofleiTesJ 
 the  fruit  of  his  Art,  but  he  took  pleafure  in  the  Art  it ! 
 felf.  when  he  painted.  Juft  as  the  youth  of  our  chil-  . 
 dren  is  more  fruitful  to  us,  but  their  infancy  is  more'? 
 fweet.  But  allure  your  felf  I  do  not  live  by  any  of  | 
 thefe  Maxims..  Friendfhip  is  like  Wine  }  the  older 
 it  is,  the  better.  It  grows  more  pure  by  age5  its  fpi- 
 rits  are  more  difingaged  >  and  it  warms  the  heart  M 
 more  powerfully  than  when  it  was  but  new  and  green..^ 
 Nay,  your  friendfhip  is  more  pleafant  too,  whatioever  ■ 
 you  may  think,  now  that  it  is  grown,  than  it  was  in  ■ 
 its  childhood.  I  enjoy  the  remembrance  of  thofe  ^^ 
 pleafures,  and  have  fome  new  ones  befides :  juft  as  a 
 Painter  thinks  on  his  Art  when  he  beholds  the  piece 
 that  he  hath  brought  to  perfection.  I  befecch  you 
 then,  if  you  have  any  love  to  me,  that  you  will  not  call 
 in  queftion  mine  to  you.  And  if  all  this  will  not  fa- 
 tisfie  you  ;  let  me  intreat  you  for  the  Love  of  our 
 Lord,  that  you  will  ask  him  whether  I  do  not  love 
 you.  I  know  he  is  fo  much  a  friend  to  Truth  and 
 unto  Love  too  (not  to  fay  ro  you  and  me)  that  he  will 
 do  me  the  favour  to  perfwade  you  that  I  do.    And 
 
 there- 
 
Tl?e  Parable  of  the  Tilgrim.  49$ 
 
 therefore  let  not  the  evil  one  who  loves  nothing 
 lefs  than  our  Friendship ,  fow  this  jealoufie  in 
 your  heart,  that  I  grow  weary  of  you.  But  be 
 confident  that  as  our  Lord  loves  you,  fo  he  im- 
 parts true  love  to  me5  and  that  if  the  arms  of  thefe 
 two  can  do  any  thing,  you  (hall  be  carried  fafe  to 
 Jerusalem. 
 
 And  now,  fiuce  I  have  told  you  my  very  heart,  let 
 me  know,  I  pray,  what  further  doubt  it  is  that  troubles 
 yours.  It  cannot  be  fo  great  fure,  that  I  mould  not 
 find  a  remec'y  for  it  :  and  you  need  not  fear  that 
 it  will  procure  me  too  great  a  trouble  5  fince  it  is  be- 
 come, as  you  fee,  one  of  my  chief  pleafures  to  eafe  you 
 of  all  your  troubles.  It  muft  be  fo  indeed,  faid  the  P//- 
 grim,  if  you  have  any  p'eafure  at  all :  For  I  live  as  if 
 I  had  nothing  elfe  to  do  but  to  find  Ibme  new  occa- 
 fion  to  perpiex  my  felf,  that  I  may  be  difintangled 
 by  you.  You  think  that  I  am  advanced  a  great  way 
 toward  Jerufalem ;  and  truly  I  hope  that  I  am  gone  fur- 
 ther than  I  lately  thought  my  felf.  But  alas,  I  am  no- 
 thing fo  ftrong,  fo  fteady,  much  lefs  fo  wife  as  you  feem 
 fometimss  to  imagine.  A  little  thing  you  fee  fhakes 
 me  •,  and  there  are  letter  matters  that  you  have  noc  yec 
 been  privy  to,  that  put  my  thoughts  into  confufion. 
 The  very  puff  of  a  confident  mans  breach  doth  indan- 
 ger  to  make  me  reel.  And  though  I  underftand  my  felf 
 very  well  in  thofe  things  wherein  you  have  inftru&ed 
 me,  yet  the  mcer  zeal  and  earneftnefs  wherewith  fome 
 perfons  aftault  me,  when  there  is  no  reafon  in  what  they 
 fay  5  is  apt  to  make  me  fufpeft  and  diftruft  my  felf  5 
 nay,  to  fall  into  a  trembling  left  all  fhould  not  be  well 
 with  me.  .  This  you  will  fay  is  a  fmall  matter,  and  noc 
 worthy  to  be  cajled  a  trouble  5  (and  truly  I  am  glad 
 
 and. 
 
49  4  Tlx  Parable  of  the  Tilgritn. 
 
 and  ttank  God  for  your  fake  that  it  is  no  more)  yet 
 when  I  give  you  an  inftance  of  it,  you  will  think  I  had 
 fome  caufe  to  complain  as  I  did  5  though  not  fo  much 
 as  my  words  in  the  late  paflion  wherein  I  was,  might 
 import.  Your  difcourfe  of  Faith  and  Confidence  in 
 God  C  for  which  I  am  obliged  unto  you )  revived  ac 
 firftthe  memory  of  my  weaknefsinftead  of  giving  me 
 ftrength  5  and  made  me  think  with  my  felf,  Alas !  I 
 have  made  it  a  queftion  whether  I  have  any  Faith  or 
 no.  For  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  met  lately  with  an 
 acquaintance  of  mine  (  when  you  were  abfent  about 
 fome  bufinefs  )  who  would  needs  perfwade  me  that  I 
 was  drawn  away,  and  was  no  true  Believer ;  becaufe  I 
 defcnbed  Faith  unto  him  in  that  manner  as  you  had 
 taught  me.  I  told  him  that  I  was  heartily  perfwaded 
 that  Jefus  was  the  Son  of  God  }  and  that  he  had 
 taught  us  all  his  Will ;  and  that  he  having  dyed  for 
 our  fins,  did  by  the  fame  death  confirm  unto  us  great 
 and  precious  promifes ;  and  that  he  lives  and  raigns  in 
 Heaven  for  ever  5  and  that  he  will  give  eternal  life  to 
 all  that  obey  him  >  and  that  hereupon  I  was  become 
 obedient  to  his  voice,  and  quitting  all  prefent  enjoy- 
 ments, was  willing  to  follow  him  to  the  death.  And 
 yet  after  all  this  he  mif-called  my  Perfwafion  by  a 
 ward  which  I  think  he  did  not  underftand  5  faying 
 that  I  was  indued  only  with  an  Hiftorical  Faith,  which 
 would  not  faveme.  I  explained  that  word  as  well  as 
 I  could,  and  told  him  that  a  belief  of  the  Hiftory  of  the 
 Gofpel  C  of  all  that  is  related  there  )  when  it  produces 
 obedience  to  the  Laws  of  it,  was  Saving  Faith.  But 
 he  fmiled  at  my  ignorance ;  (  as  he  efteemed  it )  and 
 told  me  that  the  Faith  which  juftifies,  and  fo  faves  us, 
 was  only  a  recumbency  on  Chrift ;  and  application  of  his 
 merits  to  my  Soid ;  with  a  number  of  fuch  like  phrafes : 
 
 the 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  497 
 
 the  obfruiky,or  Umenefs,,  or  danger  of  winch,  though 
 I  reprefented  to  him,  yec  would  he  not  yield  a  jot ;  nor 
 ceafe  to  importune  me  that  I  would  take  heed  of  the 
 danger  of  unbelief.  And  indeed  I  knowing  him  to  be 
 a  good  man  himfelf ;  and  he  affirming  that  all  godly 
 men  of  a  long  time  had  been  of  his  mind  ;  and  ufing 
 fuch  confidence  and  vehemence  in  his  words  ;  and 
 fomecimes  thundering  alfo  fo  terribly  in  my  ears  the 
 danger  wherein  my  Soul  was :  I  muft  confefs  fuch  was 
 my  weaknefs,  that  I  trembled  a  little  though  I  knew 
 no  caufe-,  and  was  afraid  that  I  had  been  mif-lead  out 
 of  the  company  of  fo  many  Believers  as  he  told  me  of. 
 This  hath  been  a  double  trouble  to  me  5  fomecimes  to 
 think  that  I  mould  be  afraid  without  reafon  5  and 
 fometimes  fufpe&ingthat  there  may  be  reafon  in  what 
 he  faich,  and  my  eyes  fo  blinded  thac  I  cannot  fee  if. 
 Now  I  have  opened  my  heart  to  you  very  freely ;  and 
 I  pray  be  not  angry  that  I  fhould  doubt  either  of  your 
 fidelity,  or  of  your  ability  in  the  inflruclions  you  long 
 fincegaveme. 
 
 There  is  no  caufe  for  this  Petition,  faid  the  Good 
 Father,  I  am  willing  you  mould  hear  whac  every  bo- 
 dy faith,  for  then  you  will  fee  the  difference.  It  is  bet- 
 ter a  great  deal  that  you  fhould  doubt;  than  that  you 
 mould  blindly  refign  up  your  felf  to  all  my  dictates.  I 
 am  none  of  thofe  thac  love  to  be  believed  becaufe  I 
 fay  it  •,  nor  chac  raife  che  found  of  my  voice,  to  gain 
 an  advantage  of  them,  whofe  modefty  will  not  let' 
 them  be  fo  loud.  I  will  leave  that  priviledge  to  fuch 
 men  as  are  in  need  of  it,  having  nothing  elfo  to  ferve 
 them ;  to  fome  of  whom  I  doubt  your  acquaintance  is 
 made  a  Profelyte.  For  there  are  a  company  of  men  in  Lord  uton. 
 tkt  world  (  as  bxth  been  noted  long  f  nee  by  a  wife  man  ) 
 
 who 
 
^6  Tk  fdrMe of  the  filgvim. 
 
 who  love  the  Jalutation  of  Rabbi,  or  Matter  5  and  tb*t 
 not  in  Ceremony  or  Complement,  but  in  an  inward  Au- 
 thority which  they  fee k  over  mens  minds  ;  in  drawing 
 them  to  depend  upon  their  Opinions,  and  to  look  for 
 knowledge  only  at  their  lips.  Is  it  not  the  Lord  Bifliops 
 (  as  he  [peaks  )  hut  theje  men,  that  are  the  SucceJJors  of 
 Diotrephes*,  the  great  Lovers  of  preheminence.  They 
 will  he  Lords  over  mens  Faith ;  and  over-aw  them  into  x 
 belief  of  all  that  they  ?  reach. None  may  diffentfrom  their 
 affertions,  unlefs  he  be  content  to  bear  the  brand  of  an 
 Unbeliever,  It  it  all  one  to  for  fake  the  Gofpel,  and  to 
 for  fake  theirOpinions.YouleaveChrif  if  you  leave  them' 
 and  the  Faith  which  was  once  delivered  to  the  Saints  is 
 folely  in  their  keeping.  That  which  makes  them  the  more 
 ujurp  upon  others,  is,  that  they  have  the  hap  to  light  up- 
 on  fuch  natures  who  readily  receive  that  which  is  confi- 
 dently fpoken ;  andfify  maintain  that  which  once  they 
 have  embraced.  Such  are  men  of  younger  years  %  andfu- 
 ferficial tifiderjlandings  *  that  are  carryed  away  with 
 partial  re  fpeel  ofper[bns,or  with  the  enticing  appearance 
 of  Godly  names  andpretences.  There  being  few  {as  he 
 obferves )  who  follow  the  things  them  fel ves  more  than 
 the  names  of  the  things,  and  molt  the  names  of  the  Ma- 
 ftei:S.Nay>moft'  do  (tde  themfelves  with  thefe  Maflers  be~ 
 fore  they  know  their  right  hand  from  their  left.  And 
 they  skip  from  meer  Ignorance,  to  a  violent  Prejudice  : 
 from  knowing  nothing  t<r  an  Opinion  that  they  know  all 
 things  :  or  at  leajl  to  a  confidence  that  they  are  not 
 m'flaken  in  what  they  know. This ftrong  prejudice  is  rare- 
 ly overcome :  for  the  honourable  names  of  Sincerity, fm- 
 gknefs  of  heart,  Godlinefs,  and  the  glory  of  free  grace  be* 
 ingput  in  the  front, and  marching  before  theirVoflrines  • 
 they  can  never  be  touched  by  thofe  that  have  a  mind  to 
 affault  them ;  but  thofe  Holy  things  will  firfi  be  though 
 
 H 
 
The  Tardble  of  the  Tilgrirrt.  49^ 
 
 tofufer  a  Violation.  But  as  I  inrend  co  have  nothing  to 
 do  with  thcfe  Lords  and  Maflers  •  fo  I  would  have  you 
 to  withdraw  your  felt  from  the  thraldom  of  their  fub- 
 jccls.  I  may  well  be  allowed  to  bid  you  not  to  follow 
 chem  ;  feeing  I  would  not  have  you  follow  me  without 
 reafon.  Exempt  your  felf  from  the  number  of  thofe  that 
 are  flieepimly  led  whither  confident  men  will  have 
 them ;  or  that  are  hurried  away  with  the  blafts  of  a 
 furious  Zeal  5  or  that  are  wont  to  tell  voices;  atui  not 
 to  weigh  them.  If  there  be  any  thing  that  I  am  to 
 accufe  you  of  in  this  particular,  it  is  only  that  which 
 you  have  conf efled  ;  that  you  dare  not  (  as  I  alfo  noted 
 heretofore )  truft  your  own  reafon  ;  and  adhere  to 
 the  clear  and  well-poifed  refolutions  of  your  own 
 mind,  if  any  body  raife  a  clamour  againft  them.  There 
 is  a  certain  Modefty  in  your  Soul  which  is  very  com- 
 mendable; if  it  do  not  betray  you  into  the  hands  of 
 thofe  that  are  fo  impudenc  as  to  ouc-face  you.  It  will 
 do  you  fervice  if  it  only  reftrain  you  from  their  pe- 
 remptorinefs ;  (which  you  have  as  much  right  to  ufe 
 -  as  themfelves  if  it  were  fit  and  decent )  but  it  ought 
 not  to  make  you  yield  to  them,  becaufe  they  are  fo 
 confident  as  to  prefs  for  your  confent  with  erctt  ear- 
 neftnefs,and  without  any  reafon.  Time  I  hope  will 
 both  embolden  your  Modefty,  and  alfo  fettle  your 
 Notions  better ;  making  you  to  fee  that  they  excell 
 the  vain  janglings,  and  the  loud  noifes  of  the  World 
 as  much  as  light  excelleth  darknefs.  And  to  gi  ve  you 
 youc  due,  you  did  well  conceive  and  remember  whac  I 
 formerly  (aid,  which  I  do  not  now  recant.  Still  I 
 tell  you  that  he  is  a  Believer  unto  Salvation,  who  being 
 pcrfvpaded  of  the  truth  of  all  that  a  f aid  of  our  Saviour^ 
 and  all  that  he  hath  (aid  in  the  Go$el}  abandons  all  other 
 interejli,  and  Jludies  only  to  be  obedient  to  him  in  aS 
 Sff  things. 
 
4$>  &  The  far  Me  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 things.  Let  them  fay  what  they  will  of  Recumbency 
 and  Eelyance  upon  him,  I  think  this  man  relyes  upon 
 him,  and  trufts  him  more  than  any  body  elfe  ;  who 
 upon  the  meer  credit  of  his  word  is  willing  to  relin- 
 quiftiall  that  he  pofTcfles,  for  that  which  Chrift  hath 
 promifcd  ;  to  leave  all  that  he  fees  and  feels,  for 
 that  which  is  invifible.  This  let  us  maintain  to  be  the 
 moft  foveraign  degree  of  Faith ;  which  will  lift  us  up 
 as  high  as  Heaven,  when  the  idle  and  lazy  relyance  of 
 bold  pretenders  will  let  them  fink  into  the  deepeft 
 place  in  Hell. 
 
 CHAP.  XXXVIII. 
 
 ADifcourfe  with  an  acquaintance  of  the  Pilgrims  about 
 re  fling  on  Cbrtjl  for  falvation.  The  rvilfulnefs^  and 
 unskilfulnefs  offome  Guides  in  the  way  to  Jerufalem. 
 For  what  end  Chrift  dyed:  and  fo  what  it  u  that  our 
 Faiths  principally  to  refpeff.  That  Chrift  is  a  means 
 to  our  end:  and  therefore  Faith  mujl  go  further  than- 
 his  per  (on* 
 
 AS  they  were  talking  thus  together,  that  very 
 man  who  was  the  occafion  of  their  diicourle 
 chanced  to  pafs  that  way ;  and  being  of  the  Pilgrims 
 acquaintance,  joyned  himfelf  in  company  to  them.  Who 
 perceiving  what  the  argument  of  their  prefent  debate 
 was,  and  being  of  a  violent  nature  ;  began  with  greater 
 eagemefs  than  ever  to  aflert  his  own  prejudices,  and 
 was  plainly  impatient  of  any  contradiction.  He  railed 
 up  his  voice  to  a  ftrange  height,  and  told  them  both 
 m  flat  terms,  that  they  adhered  too  much  to  their  own 
 .jugbteotifnefs  •,  chat  they  muft  deny  it  quite,  and 
 
 Kit 
 
TJje  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  499 
 
 reft  wholly  upon  Chrift  and  his  Merits-,  believing  ia 
 him  for  pardon  and  Juftification.  And  indeed  his 
 tongue  ran  at  fuch  a  race  that  the  Father  could  not  gee 
 leave  to  thruft  in  a  word,  till  he  had  wearied  himfelf 
 with  his  own  talk.  And  then  he  gravely  askt  him, 
 Have  y  >u  done  Sir  C  Yes,  replyed  he.  Then  proceeded 
 the  Father,  let  me  intreat  you  to  remember  the  old 
 countel  5  Soft  and  fair.  You  run  a  little  too  faft,  to 
 make  any  good  fpeed.  And  as  you  make  too  much 
 hafte  in  your  d'fcourfe,  fo  you  do  alfo  in  your  con- 
 fident refting  upon  Chrift.  I  grant  you  that  wemuft 
 not  depend  upon  our  own  righteoufnefs.  But  what 
 danger  is  there  of  that,  when  men  have  none  at  all? 
 Lee  them  ftay  till  they  be  righteous,  and  then  let 
 them  deny  it  all  as  much  as  they  can.  But  to  what 
 purpofe  is  it  to  tell  them  this  before  they  become 
 gocd,  unlefs  it  be  to  keep  them  from  ever  being 
 Xo<  To  what  end  doth  it  ferveto  urge  the  wickedeft 
 man  in  the  World  to  caft  away  that  which  he  hath 
 not:'  Whither  doth  it  tend  to  bid  them  throw  about 
 them  anothers  righteoufnefs  to  make  them  perfectly 
 righteous,  when  they  arc  indued  with  none  of  their 
 own  ;  but  only  to  make  them  never  feek  for  any  elfc 
 fave  that  which  is  Caft  over  them  ?  The  fame  I  fay 
 concerning  your  refting  upon  Chrift  for  Salvation.  Is 
 there  a  man  that  underftands  himfelf,  who  will  truft  to 
 any  thing  elfe  but  the  Merits,  Mercy,  and  Power  of 
 Jefus,  who  is  raifed  from  the  dead,  and  is  able  to  deli- 
 ver us  from  the  wrath  to  come?  But  how  comes  it 
 about  that  all  men  get  thither  fo  very  foon  '.  Why  muft 
 this  be  mentioned  as  the  flrft  thing  that  Faith  hath  to 
 do,  aRd  as  the  only  aft  that  wil!  Juftifie  a  /inner  <  What 
 is  the  re.ifon  of  this  Forwardnefs,  that  when  men  ask, 
 Whatfhallwcdo  tobefaved,  you  anfwer  prefently ; 
 Sff  z  Caft 
 
5©o 
 
 The  farable  of  the  filgriml 
 Caft  your  felf  upon  the  Merits  of  Chrift?  For  this  is 
 your  interpretation  of  the  word,  Believe,  by  which  the 
 Apoftle  refolves  that  important  Queftion.    Of  whac 
 ufe  is  this  early  confidence,  but  only  to  make  men 
 Prove  Hypocrites  ;  and   to  flight  the  commands  of 
 Chrift  •,  without  obferving  of  which  they  may  on  this 
 fafhionbe  juftified?  I  beteech  you  confider  it  well  ; 
 and  let  me  know  by  what  Art  it  is  that  men  come  to 
 climb  to  the  top-bough,  without  ever  touching  thofe 
 that  are  beneath?  Let  it  be  granted  if  youpleafe,  that 
 Faith  in  the  Mercy  of  God  is  that  to  which  our  Reli- 
 gion tends  5  that  it  is  as  it  were  the  very  uppermoft 
 Branch  of  the  Tree.     But  doth  not  the  Tree  put  forth 
 many  undet-Branches,  and  muft  we  not  afcend  by 
 thefe  to  the  higheft '{ There  are  other  a<fh  of  Faith  then, 
 that  muft  lead  the  way,  and  whereby  we  go  up  to  that 
 lofty  Confidence  •,  or  elfe  it  is  the  meer  witchcraft  of 
 fancy  and  (elf-love  which  fets  us  on  fo  high  a  pearch. 
 Suppofe  we  fay  that  we  are  juftified  only  by  this  Trufl 
 in  the  infinite  pardoning  mercy  of  a  loving  Father 
 through  his  Sons  blood.     Let  this,  if  you  will  have  it 
 fo,  be  thought  the  only  ad  that  juftifies.    Yet,  Doth 
 not  every  body  fee  that  no  man  can  reafonably  take  the 
 boldncfs  to  look  for  this  pardoning  mercy,  unlefs  he  be 
 made  a  new  man,  and  fincerely  obey  the  will  of  God  ? 
 Muft  not  his  Faith  (  for  there  is  nothing  elfe  to  doit) 
 firft  produce  fuch  an  intire  and  uniform  holinefs  of  heart 
 and  life  as  Chrift  requires^  before  he  be  fo  confident  £ 
 No  doubt  of  it,  or  elfe  it  is  meerly  Preemption.     Ic 
 is  impoflible  that  a  mans  relyance  mould  be  ftronger, 
 with  any  reafon,  than  the  reft  of  the  ads  of  his  Faith 
 are.     And  therefore  mould  we  nor  fpeak  of  Faith  in 
 ifijch  words  as  will  take  in  all  that  it  hath  to  do  :  both 
 that  which,  refpe&s  our  duty,  as  well  as  that  which 
 
 refpe&s 
 
77;*  Tarable  of  the  Pilgrim.  j  01 
 
 re (peels  our  benefit  i  Take  heed  I  befeech  you  again 
 of  a  double  mifchief  which  is  very  vifible  ;  one  ta 
 others,  and  the  fecond  to  your  fclf.  FirJF,  Beware  how 
 you  fpeak  of  Faith  fo  loofly  to  your  neighbours  5  in 
 fuch  terms  as  they  may  eafily  abufe.  Do  not  fey  that 
 Juftifying  Faith  is  meerly  a  relyance  on  Chrift  for  Sal- 
 vation. For  though  you  mean  well,  and  live  better ; 
 yet  the  wicked  of  the  world  never  underftand  this 
 aright :  ( which  is  the  caufe  ( if  you  would  know  all) 
 that  makes  me  fo  zealoufly  oppofe  you  in  this  matter  J 
 They  all  lay  hold  on  him,  and  his  righteoufnefs  to  co- 
 ver all  the  filthinefs  wherein  they  live.  Though  you 
 tell  them  that  they  ought  to  love  him  who  hath  dyed 
 to  procure  righteoufneis  for  them,  yet  they  love  their 
 fins  better  5  and  hope  that  he  will  love  them  never 
 the  worfe  for  ir.  It  is  impoflible  to  pcrfwade  an  Adul- 
 terer^ Drunkard,  or  any  fuch  perfon  (great  numbers 
 of  which  to  my  knowledge  comfort  themfelves  in  their 
 relyance  on  Chrift)  to  become  better-  unlets  you  give 
 a  better  notion  of  Faith  than  this.  And  then  for  your 
 felf  I  muft  warn  you  to  take  great  heed  that  one  piece 
 of  your  Faith  do  not  out- grow  another.  Do  not  fuf- 
 fer  it  to  moot  more  upward  thaa  it  doth  downward  5 
 and  to  grow  in  tallnefs  more  than  in  thicknefs  and 
 ftrength.  I  mean,  let  it  not  lift  up  it  felf  to  Heaven  in 
 afluranceof  Gods  love,  butproportionably  to  its  root- 
 ing in  love  and  obedience  to  him.  Let  it  not  perk  up 
 in  pcrfwafions  of  Gods  mercy,  but  as  it  increafes  in 
 ftrength  and  power  to  do  him  fervice.  It  is  a  (lender 
 Tree  you  know,  very  weak,  and  eafily  broken,  which 
 fprings  up  too  much  in  length,  but  carries  no  body,  and 
 hath  not  a  thicknefs  anfwerable  to  its  height.  Such  is 
 the  Faith  that  mounts  up  in  confidence  without  an 
 anfwerable  fpreading  and  enlarging  it  felf  in  theob- 
 
 (crvar.ee 
 
5® l  The  fParahle  of  the  Tilgrhn. 
 
 fervancc  or  all  Gods  commands ;  and  bringing  forth 
 all  the  fruits  of  a  lively  Faith.  Nay,  it  is  the  very  way 
 to  defpair,  to  be  thus  forward.  For  as  thofe  tall  and 
 (leader  Trees  by  fome  ftrong  blafts  are  apt  to  hang 
 down  their  heads,  and  touch  the  ground  from  whence 
 they  come:  So  do  thefehigh  confidences  in  a  rime  of 
 tryal  j  and  when  men  come  to  fee  how  ungrounded  they 
 were,  they  are  ready  to  end  in  as  low  a  defpair  and 
 great diftruft  of  all  Gods  mercy.  Upon  every  occafion 
 you  mall  fee  fuch  people  caft  into  horrid  fits  if  they  be 
 at  all  obfervant  of  their  duty  $  which  they  think  is 
 fome  defertion  by  God,  but  indeed  proceeds  from  the 
 too  great  forwardnefs  of  their  Faith ;  which  did  rife 
 too  high,  and  had  not  ftrength  enough  to  bear  it  up. 
 Nay,  if  they  began  in  this  confidence,  and  their  Faith 
 pitched  thus  high  at  the  very  firfti  they  ought  to  de- 
 fpair of  Gods  favour  till  their  Faith  hath  purified  their 
 hearts.  They  muft  come  down  again  from  the  top  of 
 the  Tree,  and  begin  at  the  bottom,  in  obedience  to  all 
 God's  Commands. 
 
 Thefe  things,  with  many  others,  feemed  fo  perfpi- 
 cuous  to  the  man,  who  had  a  great  deal  of  honefty  in 
 him,  that  his  confidence  was  ftrangely  abated.  And  the 
 Father  mak'mg  a  little  paufe-,  he  altered  the  tone  of 
 his  voice,  and  modeftly  (aid,  I  muft  ingenuoufly  con- 
 fefs  that  I  have  been  too  ram  in  oppofing  and  cenfuring 
 of  you.  1  am  not  one  of  thofe  that  will  refift  clear 
 convidions,  and  conteft  meerly  that  they  may  ncc 
 feem  to  be  overcome  5  but  I  acknowledge  fincerely 
 that  I  had  too  rude  and  confufed  notions  of  things ; 
 which  precipitated  me  into  this  confidence  of  di- 
 fputing  with  you.  Be  not  troubled  at  it,  rtplyed  the 
 Father,   but  rather  think  your  felf  happy  that  yoa 
 
 under- 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  50$ 
 
 undcrftand  more  than  you  did  5  and  that  you  have  not 
 loft,  but  found  Truth  in  the  midft  of  a  dilputc.  And 
 fince  you  are  io  humble  as  to  confefsfome  of  your 
 faults-,  Ip.efumeyouwill  be  thankful  if  you  are  told 
 the  relr.  Remember  it  then,  that  it  is  very  mif- 
 bccomingtofpeakloud;  to  accompany  your  diftourfe 
 with  too  much  a&ioa  >  and  to  affirm  any  thing  with 
 too  great  a  confidence  and  peremptorinefs.  But  know 
 withall,  that  I  eafily  pardon  them,  and  pafs  them  by  - 
 becaufe  they  are  not  lb  much  your  own,  as  the  faults 
 of  your  Teachers  from  whom  you  learnt  them,  and 
 many  more  befides.  Thefe  are  the  leaft  things  that 
 many  of  them  are  to  be  accufed  of  ;  (For  there  is  a 
 certain  wilfulncfs  ( as  it  feems  -to  me )  that  pofTefles 
 their  hearts ;  which  will  not  let  them  exchange  their 
 unfafe  and  imperfect  definitions  of  Faith,  for  thofe 
 which  are  founder  and  more  compleat.  They  are  loth  to 
 acknowledge  that  they  can  err,  or  fpeak  unproperly. 
 They  had  rather  defend  that  which  is  badly  done  or 
 faid,  than  ftudy  to  make  it  better*  And  as  men  do  in 
 diforders  of  Government,  they  abufe  their  wit,  and 
 ftudy  for  realons  why  it  mould  be  amifs ;  rather  than 
 how  it  mould  be  amended.  They  will  learn  from 
 none  unlefs  it  be  themfelves.  They  will  rejed  the 
 cleared  light,  unlefs  it  mine  out  of  their  own  minds. 
 They  would  have  truth  confined  to  a  party  ;  the  ve- 
 ry phrafesof  which,  if  you  do  not  accept,  it  is  enough 
 to  beget  a  quarrel.  Be  not  offended  1  befeech  you  ac 
 this  plainncfs,  nor  imagine  that  I  intend  to  diminifk 
 your  opinion  of  any  men  that  are  good-,  but  only  to 
 give  you  Caution,  that  you  do  not  think  them  to  be 
 better  than  they  are.  You  may  conceive  me  indeed  no 
 competent  Judge  of  other  mens  difcourfes :  will  you 
 hear  therefore  what  a  very  Wife  man  thought  a  good 
 
 while 
 
504  Ih  Parable  of  tbeTilgriml 
 
 while  ago  of  that  manner  of  preaching  which  hath 
 put  you  in  that  rude  heat  wherein  we  now  faw  you  i 
 His  words  are  to  this  fenfe  (  for  I  will  not  tye  my 
 felf  only  to  fay  what  he  hath  faid  before  me;  and 
 they  feem  to  be  a  very  moderate  Sentence  uponfome 
 men  then  who  have  left  many  followers  behind  them. 
 They  give,  faith  he,  many  pious  Exhortations,  and 
 they  work  oft-times  compunclion  of  mind;  but  they 
 are  not  skilled  how  to  work  a  cure  when  they  have  made 
 a  wound.  They  can  make  men  fie k  of  their  fins  $  but  are 
 not  provided  of  efficacious  remedies  to  purge  them  out. 
 They  let  them  fee  their  fores  ;  but  then  they  are  palliated, 
 and  [eldom  throughly  healed.  They  know  better  how 
 to  bring  Souls  to  that  Queftion,  Men  and  Brethren,  what 
 fhall  we  do  <  than  bow  to  give  a  good  anfwer,  and  re- 
 folve  the  doubt  which  they  have  raifed.  They  make  men 
 fee  they  are  very  bad,  but  know  not  how  to  go  about  to 
 make  them  good.  They  magnifie  Faith,  and  make  all  the 
 world  found  with  the  noife  of  it ;  but  ft  ill  men  are  to 
 feek  what  this  great  thing  fhouldbe.  They  awake  men 
 out  of  their  fleep,  and  make  them  look  and  gaze  about 
 them  ;  and  let  them  fee  nothing  of  that  which  they  have 
 to  take  in  hand.  They  bid  them  indeed  Believe^  but  it 
 it  very  hard  to  know  when  they  do.  They  have  entangled 
 Faith  in  Difputes ;  when  itfhouldhave  been  employe  din 
 good  Works.  They  have  obf cured  a  plain  thing,  in  many 
 laborious  definitions  of  it.  They  have  ma  de  it  fo  fubttl, 
 and  to  conftfl  in  fo  nice  a  point ;  that  it  is  a  difficult 
 thing  for  any  to  fee  it.  They  handle  matters  of  doubt 
 weakly,  and  as  before  a  people  that  will  accept  of  ccny 
 thing.  In  the  Dctfrine  of  Manner  s0  there  is  little  to  he 
 had,  but  Generality  and  Repetition,  The  bread  of  life 
 they  tofs  up  and  down,  but  break  it  nop.  They  fay  in  the 
 grofs,  that  men  mujl  live  well,  but  they  tell  them  not  bow 
 
Tl?e  Parable  of  the  Tdgr'm.  50$ 
 
 to  live.    They  bring  not  their  Doctrines  down  to  Cafes  of 
 Conscience  j  that  a  man  may  be  near  ranted  m  his  p <erp e^ 
 tual  Actions,  whether  tbey  be  lawful  or  not.     Nor  take 
 they  care  to  teach  men  their  lawful  liberty,    as  well  as 
 their  reftraints.  To  keep  them  from  fuperftitious  Obfer- 
 vances,  as  well  as  profane  tranfgre/fions.   Nay,  Iwijh 
 we  could  not  fay  that  it  is  the  leajl  offome  mens  care,  to 
 promote  a  Godly  life.   Faith  u  made  a  thing  that  is  quite 
 difintt  from  it.     Good  works  and  Faith  are  commonly 
 oppofed  in  the  Jujlification  ofafinner.  The  one  is  thought 
 to  exclude  the  other.     And  to  be  juftified,  it  is  [aid  to 
 be  neceffary  that  a  man  do  Nothing  for  it.     The  moft 
 that  Chrijt  can  get  is  by  way  of  Gratitude ,  which  you 
 know  is  f mall  or  none  in  bad  Natures.     At  the  be  ft  they 
 will  put  him  off  with  defirestor  purposes, or  an  endeavour 
 of  a  new  life  ;  though  fill  thefe  things  be  ineffectual. 
 All  which  is  faid  for  no  other  end,  but  that  you  may 
 not  have  mens  perfons  in  admiration.     That  you  may 
 be  at  liberty  to  prove  all  things,and  hold  faft  that  which 
 is  good.    That  you  may  not  bear  a  greater  reverence 
 to  Matters  than  you  do  to  Truth :   which  is  ready  to 
 become  the  portion  of  thofe  who  are  more  in  love  with 
 it,  than  with  their  party.    And  fince  you  feem  to  me 
 to  be  one  of  thofe ,   I  fhall  fpare  no  pains  to  bring 
 you  and  Truth  together.     But  if  you  think  it  needful 
 I  will  give  you  further  Catisfa&ion  in  this  which  we 
 have  conttfted  ;    and  make  you  confefsthat  there  is 
 nothing  plainer  than  that  which  I  have  faid  of  Faith  in 
 Chrift. 
 
 You  will  gratifie  me  very  much,  replyed  the  other; 
 
 if  you  will  be  at  the  trouble  to  teach  me  this  leffon 
 
 better.     And  I  am  prepared  already  by  what  I  have 
 
 now  learnt,  to  confider  and  weigh  not  who,  buc  what 
 
 Tct  it 
 
5 1 6  The  Tar  able  of  the  Tilgrim. 
 
 it  is  that  I  hear.  Very  good,  faid  he  again,  let  me  ' 
 Catechife  you  then  a  little,  and  be  not  offended  at 
 this  common  and  eafie  queftion  i  Do  you  not  think 
 that  Chrift  came  into  the  World  for  fome  end  i  Nay, 
 was  he  not  Tent  of  God  upon  fome  high  defign  i  You 
 cannot  doubt  of  it,  and  therefore  I  will  not  ftay  for 
 your  anfwer.  But  tell  me,  what  do  you  think  that 
 great  end  was  <  Wherefore,  for  inftance,  did  he  dye 
 and  flied  his  blood  <  Was  it  only  that  our  fins  might 
 be  pardoned  i  Did  he  bear  the  Crofs,  that  we  might 
 bear  none?  Did  he  deny  his  own  Will,  that  we 
 might  have  li  berty  to  do  ours  i  Is  his  Death  to  excufe 
 us  from  holy  living  i  Hypocrifie  indeed  thinks  fo :  but 
 true  Religion  teacheth  us  that  the  intent  of  his  death 
 was,  by  keeping  us  from  dying,  to  make  us  alive  to 
 God :  By  laving  us  from  execution  when  we  were 
 condemned,  to  render  us  honeft  men  •  by  denying  of 
 himfelf,  to  teach  us  to  take  up  our  Crofs  and  follow 
 him.  Will  you  hear  what  they  that  knew  the  mind 
 of  Chrift  have  taught  us  in  this  argument.  He  that 
 1/^.3.8.  commit teth  fin  (faith  St.  John)  is  of  the  Devil,  for  the 
 Devil Jinneth  from  the  Beginning  5  For  this  purpofe  the 
 Son  of  God  was  manifejled,  that  he  might  deftroy  the 
 works  of  the  Devil:  Which  is  as  much  as  to  fay  that  he 
 appeared  in  the  World  that  men  might  ceafe  to  fin. 
 >'15'  And  fo  St.  Paul  tells  us,  That  he  dyed  for  all,  that  they 
 which  livefhould  not  henceforth  live  to  themfelves^  but 
 to  him  that  dyed  for  them  and  rofe  again :  i.e.  will  come 
 to  judge  them,  as  a  little  before  he  had  declared.  This 
 Epbe.$.2$>  is  tne  enc*  f°r  which  he  gave  himfelf  for  his  Church, 
 *6>  27.  That  he  might  fanitifie  and  cleanfeit  with  the  wajbing 
 of  water  by  the  word,  that  he  might  prefent  it  to  himfelf 
 a  glorious  Church,not  having  [pot  or  wrinkle jr  anyfuch 
 thingybut  that  itjhmldbe  holy  and  without  blemifb.'Ho'c 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  j  07 
 
 is  it  a  flight  and  fupcrficial  Holinefs  that  he  intends 
 the  cleaniing  only  of  the  outfidc,   or  the  wafhing  away 
 of  fome  pollutions  -,  but  He  gave  himfelffor  us>thxt  be 
 m  ig  ht  redcm  its  from  11  inquity,  andpunfie  to  himfelfa     **'  *' f4' 
 peculiar  people,  zealots  of  good  works.     For,  he  hath  re-  Ctl.  x.  2  r, 
 conciled  us  ( as  it  is  in  another  place  )  in  the  body  of  his  22'. 
 
 fle(b  through  death  to  prejent  us  holy,  and  unblameabley 
 and  unre prove  able  in  his  fight.  And  to  fay  no  more, 
 St.  Peter  alio  teacheth  us,  that  He  his  own  [elf  bare  our  ii>«.2.i4. 
 fins  in  his  own  body  on  the  Tree,  that  we  being  dead  to 
 fin,  jhouldlive  unto  right eoufnefs  :  by  whofe  ft  ripe  s  we 
 are  healed.  I  know  not  what  fenfe  Hypocrific  may 
 pick  out  of  thefe  words,  which  hopes  the  fcourges  on 
 Chrifts  back  will  fave  (inners  from  the  lafli ;  and  that 
 his  death  fliall  prefcrvethem  from  dying,  though  their 
 fins  ftill  live  ;  But  it  is  evident  to  them  that  are  fm- 
 cere,  that  the  Apoftles  meaning  is  •,  our  Saviour  dyed 
 not  meerly  to  fave  us  from  dying  of  our  wounds,  or 
 to  take  away  the  anguifh  and  torment  of  them  •  but 
 that  our  Natures  might  be  healed,  and  made  found 
 and  whole  again.  He  is  fuch  a  Phyfician  as  removes 
 the  pain  and  the  fmart  by  curing  of  the  wound  5  that 
 eafeth  the  part  affected  by  making  it  well ;  that  doth 
 not  lend  his  Creeple  patient  a  Crutch  to  fupport  him, 
 but  infufes  ftrength  into  his  feet  and  anckle-bones,  and 
 fpirits  into  his  llnews,  that  he  may  walk  in  the  ways 
 of  Gods  commandments.  I  wifh  there  was  nothing 
 harder  than  this  to  underftand  in  the  Book  of  God. 
 It  is  not  a  Truth  which  men  cannot,  but  which  they 
 will  not  underftand.  It  isagainfl  a  corrupt  intercfl, 
 or  elfe  they  would  not  refill  it.  There  is  a  ftrong 
 party  in  their  heart  againft  this  end  of  Chrifts  death, 
 or  elfe  there  would  be  no  difpute  about  it.  The  biafs 
 chat  inclines  their  will -is  not  on  the  (ide  of  this  truth. 
 T  t  t  2  Ic 
 
.  58  Tl?e  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 It  contradicls  their  pleafures,    their  unlawful  gain,  or 
 fome  fuch  thing  which  they  are  loth  to  leave,  and 
 therefore  it  (hall  be  falfe,    though  never  fo  clear  in  it 
 {elf,    left  thele  beloved  fins  mould  fufTer  any  hnrm. 
 But  if  there  were  any  honefty  in  mens  hearts,  if  they 
 were  void  of  guile ,   they  would  be  able  to  fee  this 
 without  the  help  of  fo  many  teftimonies  out  of  holy 
 Writ  ;    that  it  was  not  a  thing  worthy  of  the  Son  of 
 God  to  come  and  dye  for  any  lefs  end  than  to  make 
 the  World  better,   and  render  it  obedient  to  the  Crea- 
 tor.    For  what  do  you  mean,   I  befeech  you,   when 
 you  fay  that  Jefus  fatisfied  for  your  fins }  What  was 
 it,  do  you  think,  that  he  gave  fatisfacYion  unto  i  Was 
 it  not  all  thofe  Glorious  Attributes  of  God  >   his  Wif- 
 dom,  his  Truth,  hisjuftice,  hisHolinefs^  favmg  the 
 Honour  of  which,  he  might  now  pafsby  the  Offences 
 of  returning  finners  ?   Was  it  not  that  the  credit  of  all 
 thefe  might  be  maintained ,    and  yet  the  rebels  not 
 perifh  i    That  the  Sentence  might  not  be  executed, 
 and  yet  the  Authority  of  the  Laws  be  preferved  i 
 There  is  nothing  plainer  than  that  this  death  of  Chrift 
 did  do  great  honour  to  God  in  the  face  of  the  World  • 
 aflerted  his  right  5  gave  countenance  to  his  Authority ; 
 proclaimed  his  righteoufnefs  and  purity  •  was  a  nota- 
 ble teftimony  on  his  behalf  againft  finners,  and  fo 
 there  could  be  nothing  more  powerful  to  move  God 
 to  grant  a  pardon  to  thofe  rebels  that  would  fubmic 
 to  him,    fince  now  he  mould  lofe  nothing  by  it,  but 
 that  which  he  had  a  mind  to  give  away  ;    and  not  de- 
 mand, viz.   the  penalties  which  they  had  incurred  by 
 the  breach  of  his  Laws.    But  is  it  not  manifeft  then 
 that  God  cannot  love  fin,   nor  be  friends  with  finners 
 until  they  amend?    Did  not  the  death  of  Chrift  ftiew 
 that  his  nature  is  fucr\,   that  he  cannot  indulge  men  in 
 
 their 
 
The  Tar  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  7  0  9 
 
 their  tre.pafles  i   Is  it  not  apparent  that  it  was  not  fit 
 to  pardon  even  penitent  and  returning  offenders,    un- 
 Icfs  he  iliewed  his  difpleaiure  at  their  offences  i  Did  lie 
 not  take  care  to  fecure  his  Authority  when  he  iilucd 
 outa  pardon?  Thereis  nothing  more  vifiblc.     Andif 
 Hypocrifie  had  not  over  run  us,  andthruft  trueRea- 
 fon  as  well  as  Religion  out  of  doors,  men  would  cafi- 
 ly  fee  that  Chrift  could  not  dye  meerly  to  procure  us 
 a  pardon  ;    much  lefs  that  men  might  fin  with  more 
 fecurity,  and  without  any  fear  of  pjniflmenr.     No, 
 nataraireafon  tells  us,  that  men  muft  needs  be  hateful 
 to  God  while  they  are  unlike  him ;    that  all  the  Blood 
 of  Chrift  cannot  warn  them  and  make  them  lovely,  as 
 Jong  as  they  continue  in  actual  rebellion  againft  him. 
 His  very  nature  is  againft  fuch  men  •   his  VVifdom  is  an 
 enemy  to  them.     For  how  fliould  he  maintain  any 
 Government  in  the  World,  if  he  himfelf  mould  be  the 
 cherifher  of  Traitors:'  If  he  mould  take  care  for  their 
 protection,   and  fet  up  a  Sanctuary  to  which  they  may 
 boldly  fly  i  if  he  fliould  make  the  Altar  of  the  Crofs  a 
 refuge  where  they  may  find  Salvation  and  Safety,   who 
 are  the  oppofers  of  his  Authority  i  It  cannot  be  that 
 God  ihould  befo  liberal  as  to  give  away  all  his  own 
 right.     He  cannot  quit  his  title  and  claim  unto  our 
 umverfal  obedience.     It  is  impartible  that  Chrift  by 
 his  death  fliould  repeal  all  the  Laws  of  God,   and  ab- 
 folveusfrom  our  duty.     There  is  so  queftion  he  in- 
 tended  to  ftrengthen  them,    when  he  made  a  relaxa- 
 tion.    And  when  he  procured  a  difpenfation,   he  did 
 more  eftablifh  and  fecure  that  which  is  not  difpenfed 
 withal .    It  is  a  rule  of  Reafon,   that  all  exception*  do 
 confirm  the  Law.    They  tell  us  that  it  is  not  to  be  ex- 
 tended to  any  further  indulgence.       And  therefore 
 Chrift  dying  that  the  puniftiment  might  not  be  exe- 
 cuted.^ 
 
-t5  Tk  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 cured ;   this  is  all  che  remiflion  that  we  are  to  expecl, 
 and  not  that  God  fhould  remit  all  our  duty  to  him. 
 
 It  is  very  eafie  if  men  were  well  difpored,  to  read  at 
 once  in  the  death  of  Chrift,  the  greateft  Love  of  God 
 to  us ;    and  the  greateft  Love  to  his  Laws.     His  Love 
 to  us  appears  in  that  he  would  for  our  good,   and  that 
 we  might  not  be  eternally  undone,    layafidehis  own 
 right  which  he  hath  to  punifh  :    forgive  us  a  Debt 
 which  we  were  not  able  to  pay :   alter  his  L  iw,    and 
 abate  the  ftriftnefs  of  it  ^  difpenfe  with  the  execution 
 of  the  Old  Law,  and  make  a  New  one  of  Grace  and 
 Favour ,    and  that  he  might  do  fo,   andfave  both  us 
 from  dying,  and  his  Law  from  contempt  by  our  efcape ; 
 that  he  would  provide  fucha  wife  remedy  as  this  of 
 his  Sons  dying  for  us.      Herin  was  his  Love  indeed 
 manifested,   and  we  can  never  funiciently  admire  it, 
 that  he  would  have  him  dye  rather  than  us ;   that  he 
 would  have  him  fuffer  that  we  might  be  delivered.   But 
 then  this  alfo  plainly  tells  us  the  great  Love  that  he 
 bears  to  Holinefs,  to  his  Laws,and  to  our  Duty  ;  which 
 he  took  care  fhould  not  be  injured  by  th  is  favour  and 
 remiflion.    Though  he  would  not  have  all  dye  out  of 
 love  to  us ;    yet  he  would  have  one,  left  we  fhould  (till 
 continue  in  the  love  of  iin.    Though  he  would  not 
 have  every  one  of  us  fuffer  for  the  breach  of  his  Laws ; 
 yet  he  would  have  Chrift  fuffer,  that  we  might  not  take 
 the  boldnefs  ftill  to  break  them.     This  death  of  his 
 Son  reduced  things  to  an  excellent  temper ;    providing 
 that  neither  we  nor  God  might  be  damnified.     That 
 we  might  not  fuffer  for  what  we  have  done,  and  that 
 he  might  not  fuffer  by  our  doing  ftill  the  fame.     That 
 he  might  be  what  he  is,   and  we  become  what  wre 
 ought.     That  the  old  Original  Laws  which  require 
 
 our 
 
The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim.  5  x  1 
 
 our  obedience  might  remain  in  force,  and  the  rigour  of 
 them  not  be  executed  for  our  disobedience.  That  he 
 might  part  with  fome  of  his  right,and  yet  recover  all  the 
 reft.  In  one  word,  that  he  might  be  moved  to  let  go  his 
 right  to  punifh  us,  and  we  not  moved  to  be  carelefs  in 
 yielding  him  the  reft  of  his  right  which  he  hath  to  our 
 hearty  and  conftant  obedience. 
 
 Iwifh  heartily  that  you  and  every  body  elfc  would  . 
 ferioufiy  confider  this,  and  not  expect  that  God 
 mould  not  require  your  fervice,  and  obedience  :  for 
 it  is  fo  much  his  due,  that  for  the  fake  of  his  Son,  he 
 cannot  part  with  his  right  and  claim  unto  it.  Nay,  I 
 have  a  bolder  thing  to  lay  than  all  this,  and  that  is ; 
 That  the  Death  of  Chrift  is  fo  far  from  intending  our 
 Pardon  only,  that  it  is  not  the  chiefefl  thing  that  he 
 intends.  Of  the  two,  the  purifying  of  our  hearts  and 
 lives  was  more  in  his  defign  than  the  forgivenefs  of  fin, 
 and  this  was  but  in  order  to  the  other.  So  much  you 
 may  eafily  gather  from  many  of  thofe  places  of  the  Ho- 
 ly Writings  which  were  mentioned  before ;  for  though 
 he  bare  cur  fins  in  his  own  body  on  the  Tree^  yet  it  was 
 for  this  end,  this  was  the  ultimate  fcope  of  it,  that  voe 
 being  dead,  to  fin ,  might  live  unto  righteoufnefs.  And 
 fo  another  Apoftle  faith,  He  gave  himjelffor  our  (ins>  GaL  r* 4' 
 that  he  might  deliver  m  from  this  pre 'fent  evil  world. 
 By  mewing  his  willingnefs  to  pafs  by  »ur  faults,  he 
 would  move  us  to  acknowledge  them,to  repent  of  them, 
 and  become  more  dutiful.  This  muftbe  done  before 
 we  can  actually  receive  his  pardon  and  abfolution-,  ac- 
 cording to  that  of  the  Apoftle;  He  favedus  according  to  Tiuy^li 
 his  mercy  by  the  rwifhing  of  regeneration ,and  the  renew- 
 ing of  the  Holy  -Chofl  •  that  beingjuflified  by  his  Grace  we 
 fhouldjbe  made  Heirs  of  eternal  life.  Where  it  is  vifible 
 
 to 
 
ji2  The  far able  of the  Ttlgrim. 
 
 to  them  that  will  not  fhut  their  eyes,  that  his  Mercy 
 cannot  fave  us  unlefs  we  become  New  Creatures,,  and 
 that  thismuft  go  before  the  Juftification  which  we  ex- 
 pect by  the  Grace  of  God :  and  indeed  reafon  tells  us 
 that  Chrift  muft  needs  have  more  regard  to  his  Fathers 
 rights  than  to  our  accommodation :  and  intend  more 
 the  reclaiming  of  his  rebellious  fubje&5,  than  the  pro- 
 curing of  their  pardon. 
 
 Which  is  a  thing  fo  apparent ;  that  I  am  afhamed  to 
 do  more  than  mention  it.     And  befides,  by  this  time 
 I  believe  you  will  be  ready  to  ask  me  a  queftion  who 
 have  asked  you  fo  many,   and  demand  to  what  pur- 
 pofe  have  you  made  this  long  difcourfe  <  The  Am  wer 
 is  ready,  and  the  end  of  it  is  as  clear  as  any  thing  that 
 hath  been  faid,  viz.     That  fince  Juftifying  Faith  is  to 
 have  refpect  to  our  Saviour  and  his  Death  juft  accord- 
 ing to  the  intention  of  God  in  fending  of  him  $  it  can- 
 not be  fo  little  as  the  cafting  our  felves  upon  him  for 
 pardon  of  fin.     The  former  part  of  this  argument  you 
 will  grant  me ;   for  we  mull  look  upon  an  object  ac- 
 cording as  it  is  propofed.     Faith  cannot  apprehend 
 things  other  ways  than  God  hath  revealed  them :  It 
 cannot  receive  the  Son  of  God  in  any  other  manner 
 than  as  the  Father  gave  him.    The  confequent  then, 
 God  himfelf  demands  your  aflent  unto ;    for  you  fee 
 that  he  had  another  end,  and  a  far  greater  alfo  in  give- 
 ing  his  Son  for  us,  than  the  forgivenefs  of  our  offences. 
 He  gave  him ,  that  he  might  cleanfe  and  purge  our 
 Souls  from  all  nlthinefs  $   that  he  might  make  us  holy 
 and  tmblaraeable  in  his  fight:  Why  do  you  not  then 
 thus  receive  him  t  Or  how  comes  it  about  that  you  will 
 not  only  put  this  end  behind  the  other,   but  alfo  fpeak 
 as  if  Juftifying  Faith  had  nothing  clfctodo,  but  to  lay 
 
 hold 
 
TJ?e  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  5 1 5 
 
 hold  on  the  merits  of  Chrift  i  This  I  am  fure  you  make 
 to  comprehend  the  whole  notion  of  it,  for  we  hear  of 
 nothing  beiides  in  its  definition.  This  is  either  all 
 the  buiines of  Faith,  or  elfe  you  do  very  ill  not  to 
 cxprefs  the  reft.  1  befeech  you  in  the  name  of  Chrift 
 that  dyed  for  us,  reform  this  grand  error.  Let  your 
 Faith  be  as  large  as  the  Gofpel  it  felf.  And  let  this  be 
 your  principal  care  that  it  may  purifie  your  heart. 
 When  you  exped  to  be  juftified  through  Faith  in  his 
 Blood,  remember  that  it  was  fhed  to  purge  your  con-  mb.  9. 14. 
 fete  nee  from  dead  works  to  ferve  the  Living  God. 
 
 And  that  I  may  refume  the  beginning  of  my  dif- 
 courfe,  and  fo  make  way  for  a  fpeedy  conclusion,  lee 
 me  ask  you  another  queftion  or  two,  which  teem  to 
 be  very  pertinent  to  my  prefent  defign.  If  there  was 
 an  end,  and  fo  great  an  one  as  you  have  confelTed  of 
 Chrifts  coming  into  the  World,  then  what  is  he  but  a 
 means  unto  this  end  i  He  dyed,  faith  the  Apoftle,  that l  Vn'  *  lfu 
 he  might  bring  us  to  God.  And  by  him  we  believe  in  God 
 who  raifed  him  from  the  dead,  and  gave  him  Glory 
 that  our  Faith  and  hope  might  be  in  God.  Our  belief  in 
 God  then  (which  is  no  fmall  thing,  but  comprehends 
 all  our  duty  to  himj  was  the  end  of  Chrifts  Appearing, 
 and  of  all  he  did  :  and  therefore  muft  not  he  ftand  in 
 the  place  of  a  means  to  it  <  It  muft  be  fo ,  faid  the 
 other.  But  what  then,  continued  the  Father,  will 
 become  of  your  rejling  onChrift,  and  your  {laying  or 
 leaning  on  him  for  Salvation  t  Is  it  not  manifeft  that 
 this  only  is  infufficient  for  your  purpofe  i  that  it  will 
 let  you  fall  to  the  Ground,  and  leave  you  fliort  of  your 
 happinefs  <  Is  it  not  plain  that  this  Faith  fixes  it  (elf 
 where  it  fhould  proceed  •  and  refts  in  the  means 
 whereby  it  mould  advance  to  a  noble  end  i  There  is 
 U  u  u  nothing 
 
,  {  ^  The  ?  arable  of  tk  Pilgrim. 
 
 nothing  me-thinks  more  evident  than  that  the  Faith 
 which  juftifies  a  {inner  is  not  that  which  laftly  termi- 
 natesit  felf  in  the  perfon  of  Chrift  :  and  which  doth 
 not  clearly  and  in  its  own  nature  produce  a  cordial 
 obedience  to  God.  Means  muft  be  ufed  andnotrefted 
 in.    From  whence  it  unavoidably  follows  that  Chrift 
 himfelf  and  his  merits  muft  not  be  refted  in  as  the  laft 
 end  of  our  Faith  ;  but  it  muft  go  further  and  beget  an 
 holy  life.     Let  usfofpeak  of  Faith  then,  that  it  may 
 be  vifible  whither  it  tends.    Let  it  be  feen  at  what  it 
 aims ;  and  that  it  defigns  more  than  the  carting  our 
 felves  into  the  arms  of  Chrift,  that  he  may  protect  us 
 from  the  wrath  to  come.    Learn  I  befeech  you  before 
 it  be  too  late,  that  Jefus  cannot  fave  a  man  by  a  naked 
 confidence  in  him,  i.e.  in  his  perfon,  or  any  thing  that 
 he  hath  done  or  can  do.    All  they  that  think  fo,  re- 
 proach our  Savionr,  and  make  him  the  advocate  of  fin, 
 and  not  of  finners ;  one  that  (hall  fave  their  lufts,  and 
 not  them  from  the  power  of  them.    They  ftay  in  the 
 half-way  to  Heaven,  and  fo  (hall  never  come  thither. 
 They  reft  when  they  (hould  go  forward.     They  lean 
 upon  that  ftaff  wherewith  they  fhould  walk.    They 
 make  Chrift  their  fupport  only ,  who  mould  be  alfo 
 their  ftrength.     They  caft  themfelves  upon  him,  but 
 would  not  have  him  carry  them  to  God  and  a  divine 
 nature.    They  make  him  to  ftand  in  their  way,  and 
 not  to  be  the  way  unto  obedience.  They  render  him 
 an  enemy  to  God,  who  fhall  keep  his  fubje&s  with 
 him  and  detain  them  from  their  duty.     They  con- 
 tent themfelves  with  what  they  find  in  him,  and  care 
 not  for  any  righteoufnefs  of  their  own.     They  reft  fa- 
 tisfied  with  what  he  hath  done,  and  by  vercue  of  that 
 do  nothing  themfelves.     And  fo  he  that  is  made  of 
 God  a  means  of  life,  they  make  to  themfelves  a  raeani 
 
 of 
 
The  farahle  of  the  Tilgrim.  p\ 
 
 of  death:  becaufe  they  make  him  indeed  the  End  of 
 ■all,  and  not  the  means  to  our  End. 
 
 CHAP.  XXXIX. 
 
 The  joy  which  the  pilgrim  conceived  in  this  difcourfc : 
 and  hove  much  he  applauded  his  happiness  in  having 
 fuch  a  Friend.  The  Serenity  of  his  Condition  after 
 all theje  Clouds.  And  hovp  nothing  troubled  him  but 
 only  that  he  could  do  fo  little  to  tejlifie  his  love  to  his 
 Guide  :  veho  eajily  gave  him  fatisfaCfion  byjbemng 
 the  true  g rounds  ofFriendJbip. 
 
 IT  is  not  to  be  exprefled  what  contentment  the  Man 
 t  ^ok  in  this  difcourfe,  for  which  he  rendred  him  a 
 thoufand  thanks ,  profefling  that  he  had  learnt  a  great 
 deal  in  a  little  time  •,  and  that  though  he  never  intended 
 lefs  than  to  become  a  Good  man  by  Faith  in  Chrift, 
 yet  he  did  not  fo  well  understand  till  now  how  to 
 go  about  the  bufinefs.  But  the  Joy  of  our  Pilgrim  was 
 far  greater  both  for  this  acquaintance  of  his,  and  for 
 himfelf.  He  thought  that  all  his  life  would  belittle 
 enough  wherein  to  thank  him  >  that  he  had  turned 
 the  mention  of  his  weaknefles  and  frailties,  into  the 
 occafion  of  fo  great  a  benefit  unto  them  both.  I  was 
 going  to  tell  you  (  faid  he,  when  the  Father  had  done) 
 that  I  knew  not  whether  I  mould  begin  to  thank  our 
 Lord  or  you  firft  for  this  great  kindnefs  to  me.  But  I 
 think  I  need  not  ftand  in  doubt,  for  you  are  fo  like 
 him  that  if  I  commend  your  Charity,  and  render  you 
 thanks  for  it ;  I  do  a  real  honour  thereby  to  him.  You 
 have  been  the  Ea'e  of  rrine  heart;  the  Guide  of  my 
 mind-,  the  Pilot  of  my  foul  •  the  fecuriry  and  ftay  of 
 Uu  u  2  my 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 my  life  5  my  fecond  and  better  felf ;  my  Tutelar  An- 
 gel whereby  I  have  been  defended  from  innumerable 
 dangers.  And  when  I  fay  fo,  I  acknowledge  God  to 
 have  been  all  this,  who  by  your  hand  hath  imparted 
 thefe  favours  to  me.  1  know  that  I  ftand  indebted 
 to  his  Fatherly  Goodnefs  for  fo  many  BlelTmgs  that  I 
 know  not  where  to  end  the  account.  But  for  the  be- 
 ginning ;  I  cannot  but  next  to  the  favours  his  Son 
 hath  brought  us,  place  the  gift  of  your  Friendship. 
 You  will  fuffer  me  now  furc  to  pleafe  my  felf  a  little 
 and  to  glory  in  it ;  though  heretofore  you  fupprefletf 
 my  thoughts  as  they  were  ifluing  forth.  I  know  very 
 well  at  what  rate  my  neighbours  efteem  riches ,  and 
 how  proud  they  grow,  if  they  can  fhew  you  Gold  and 
 Jewels.  But  if  Heaven  had  asked  me  what  Jewel  it 
 pleafed  me  to  be  prefented  withall ,  I  would  have 
 anfwered  ,  Give  me  a  Friend :  Send  me  an  honeft 
 Friend.  This  is  my  Riches,  my  Treafures,  my  mod 
 precious  Jewel.  It  is  not  poflible  there  fhould  be 
 any  thing  given  me  of  equal  value.  I  am  fo  proud 
 of  ir,  that  it  tempts  me  to  be  vain  glorious,  and  to 
 proclaim  to  the  World  how  wealthy  I  am.  And  if 
 we  may  judge  of  the  price  of  things  by  their  fcarcity, 
 am  I  not  in  the  right  <  What  is  there  more  rare 
 than  this  pure  Friendlhip  i  Where  mall  wc  find 
 two  men  that  have  one  heart  •,  and  love  without 
 any  intereft  i  Muft  we  not  go  back  to  the  Golden 
 Times>  and  have  recourfe  to  the  Age  of  Poetry,  to  find 
 fuch  an  happy  pair  i  What  place  is  not  filled  with 
 that  old  complaint,  O  Friends  i  no  body  is  a  Friend? 
 There  are  few  hearts  that  are  not  double  5  few  tongues 
 that  are  not  cloven.  They  that  are  not  treacherous 
 are  too  weak;  and  they  that  are  not  weak,  yet  are  too 
 wife,  to  be  tyed    in  this  Sacred  Bond.     How  can  you 
 
 blame 
 
The  Parable  of  the  Pilgrim.  5  \j 
 
 blame  mc  then  that  I  think  my  felf  fomebody  new 
 that  I  am  ponefiedof  fo  great  aTreafure  h  which  be- 
 fides  its  rarity,  is  to  be  highly  erteemed  for  its  (lability 
 and  lafting  nature.  It  is  not  fubjed  to  the  change  of 
 Fortune,  nor  the  ruft  of  time,  nor  the  violence  of  men : 
 nor  can  it  be  loft  by  my  own  negligence,  for  a  fmall 
 care  will  ferve  to  keep  a  true  friend.  Let  others  go 
 and  beg  of  great  Men  their  favour  :  Lee  others  glory 
 in  the  preferment  they  already  enjoy ;  I  envy  not  their 
 happinefs,  may  Heaven  but  pleafe  to  preferve  my 
 Friend.  It  is  the  cuftome  ofmanylfee,  to  fetch  the 
 cautes  of  their  felicity  or  unhappinefs  from  the  Hea- 
 venly bodies;  and  to  afcribe  what  they  fuffer  or  en- 
 joy here  below  to  fome  good  or  malignanc  influences 
 from  above.  But  as  for  me,  I  do  not  think  there  is 
 any  Planec  fo  lucky  as  a  faithful  friend  ;  as  on  the  con- 
 trary none  fo  malicious  asafalfe-hearted  companion. 
 Let  them  who  lift  then  obferve  the  Iters  and  their  fa- 
 vourable afpe&s,  I  will  feek  upon  earth  for  chat  which 
 muft  make  me  happy.  Let  them  obferve  how  Jupiter 
 and  Mercury  look  upon  them  in  all  their  affairs  $  it 
 imports  moft  tome  to  mark  what  men  I  converfe 
 withall.  And  you  are  the  perfon  Sir,  whom  I  fix  my 
 eye  upon,  and  whofe  good  afpect  and  charitable  influ- 
 ence I  ftill  implore.  Do  you  accompany  me  alwayes 
 in  my  travels  }  be  you  my  Mercury  in  my  journey  - 
 and  in  this  conjunction  I  (hall  not  fear  any  evil  that 
 may  threatea  me,  nor  defpair  any  more  of  nni(hing 
 that  which  is  fo  happily  begun.  This  is  the  fumm  of 
 my  deiires,  that  you  would  ever  exercife  your  wonted 
 pity  towards  me  and  pardon  my  follies.  For  the 
 whole  ftock  of  comfort  that  I  am  furniftied  withall, 
 can  only  fcrve  me  againft  a  meaner  affliction  than  the 
 lofs  of  your  love  would  prove  unto  me.  And  yet  I.  hope 
 
 that 
 
5 1 8  The  far  able  of  the  filgntri. 
 
 that  I  (hall  not  be  altogether  fo  troublefome  to" you  in 
 the  reft  of  my  journey ;  but  rather  become  your  joy.  Ic 
 fhall  be  my  daily  petition  that  I  may  fpend  mydayes 
 in  that  evennefs  and  fteadinefs  of  mind  wherein  I  find 
 my  felf  fixed  by  your  means.  That  I  maybe  humble 
 and  wait  patiently  upon  the  Lord ,  and  be  of  good 
 courage  $  believing  that  he  will  ftrengthen  mine 
 heart ,  and  that  one  day  I  mall  in  Sion  appear  before 
 God. 
 
 To  which  good  prayer  the  Father  inftantly  faid  ,' 
 Amen ,  wifhing  that  he  might  ever  find  him  in  this 
 good  temper,  and  that  he  would  likewife  remember 
 the  counfel  of  the  Apoftle  who  bids  us  Re  Joyce  in  the 
 Lord  dlrvayes.  For  there  is  not  a  more  evident  token , 
 and  apparent  fign  of  true  Wifedom  and  profiting  in 
 Vertue,  than  a  conftant  ferenity,  and  unconftrained 
 re  joycing.  And  truly  faid  he  I  think  I  need  not  do  fo 
 little  as  defire  this  for  you,  but  may  be  bold  to  turn 
 my  wiili  into  a  confidence  ;  for  I  am  apt  to  prophefie 
 that  after  fo  many  conflicts  you  will  go  in  more  peace 
 to  Jerujalem.  And  fo  it  proved  as  I  have  fince  heard, 
 and  after  this  he  every  day  had  a  view  of  that  blefTed 
 place.  The  sky  indeed  was  fometimes  a  little  cloudy, 
 which  rendred  the  fight  of  it  more  duskifh  and  ob- 
 fcure;  yet  he  kept  a  calm  in  his  mind  in  hisgreateft 
 dulnefs,  and  hoped  for  Sun  fhine  dayes;  which  came 
 a  great  deal  fooner  by  not  raifing  a  new  and  thicker 
 cloud,  through  the  ftorms  of  his  own  paffions.  But  I 
 cannot  fay  for  the  prefent  what  the  enfuing  part  of 
 their  travels  were,  my  own  obfervation  here  having 
 an  end.  Only  thus  much  I  obferved  before  I  parred, 
 that  he  who  once  was  afraid  that  he  loved  his  friend 
 too  much,  fell  into  a  fufpicion  ofhimfelf  that  he  did 
 
The  Vwabk  of  the  Pilgrim.  5 1  j> 
 
 not  embrace  him  with  fuch  an  affection  as  he  deferved. 
 And  that  after  all  thefe  contrary  humours ,  the  tem- 
 per of  their fnendflitp  was  fo  excellent,  of  fuch  confi- 
 ftency  and  fo  well  fetlcd  ;  that  as  nothing  could  dif- 
 order  it ,  fo  nothing  but  death  alone  coul'd  divide  it ; 
 an  J  death  it  felf  they  were  confident  could  never  put 
 an  end  to  it.  And  indeed  this  was  the  thing  that  I  left 
 them  in  expectation  of,  and  which  they  were  constant- 
 ly endeavouring  to  prepare  themfelves  for ;  as  that 
 which  would  not  deftroy,  but  perfect  their  love.  This 
 they  often  talkt  of;  knowing  that  it  would  never 
 come  the  fooner  for  their  thinking  and  fpeaking  of  it. 
 This  they  lookt  upon  as  a  common  friend  to  both  ; 
 that  would  tranflate  them  to  thofe  happy  regions 
 where  Friendfhip  is  in  its  Kingdome  and  raigns  over 
 every  heart.  All  the  favour  they  would  have  beg'd,  if 
 it  were  wont  to  grant  any  petitions  •,  was,  that  with  one 
 ftroke  it  fhould  arreft  them  both ,  and  carry  them  thi- 
 ther together.  And  if  any  body  could  havemadegood 
 the  Parace/Jian  promife  of  fpinn'rng  out  the  life  of  man 
 to  a  length  equal  with  the  clew  of  time3and  making  our 
 vital  oyl  of  the  fame  durable  temper  with  that  which 
 feeds  the  Lamps  of  Heaven ;  All  things  were  fo  in  com- 
 mon between  them,  that  I  verily  think  one  of  them 
 would  not  have  accepted  of  fuch  a  courtefie,  on  con- 
 dition to  enjoy  it  alone  without  the  other.  No,  they 
 rather  defired,  aslfaid,  that  the  one  might  not  fee  the 
 other  expire  ♦,  but  that  tie  fame  hand  might  cut  off 
 both  their  threds  at  once,  and  that  one  moment  might 
 put  out  thofe  Lamps  which  were  not  willing  to  burn* 
 af under. 
 
 All  the  willies  that  our  Pilgrimmzde  befrVcythis,, 
 was  only  that  they  might  live  lo  long,  til.  he  coald 
 
 give 
 
)2o  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim'. 
 
 give  Come  remarkable  proof  of  his  affection  to  his 
 Guide.  For  though  he  knew  that  he  loved  him  above 
 all  things,  and  could  contradict  even  his  former  wifhes 
 by  dying  for  him;  yet  it  did  fometimes  a  little  difcon- 
 tent  him  that  he  was  in  no  capacity  to  (how  his  ten- 
 dernefs  but  only  by  words  and  proteflations.  Though 
 the  wifdom  of  his  Conductor  had  flood  him  in  fo  great 
 flead,  and  he  could  not  well  fpareanyof  it;  yet  he 
 was  fo  foolifh  now  and  then  as  to  think  that  if  he  had 
 been  lefs  wife  he  himfelf  had  been  more  happy :  Be- 
 caufe  then  he  might  have  flood  in  need  to  receive 
 thofecounfels,  which  now  he  only  gave ;  and  been  re- 
 quited for  thofe  courtefies ,  which  now  he  made  him 
 a  pure  debtor  for.  Many  other  benefits  alfo  that  are 
 ufually  communicated  between  friends  he  found  him- 
 felf utterly  deflitute  of  all  means  to  confer  5  they  be- 
 ing either  not  in  his  power,  or  his  Guide  in  no  need  of 
 them.  This  fometimes  raifed  a  fmall  difquiet  in  his 
 mind ;  and  one  day  I  remember  he  could  not  contain 
 himfelf,  buthebeganadifcourfeto  this  purpofe,  which 
 fhall  put  an  end  to  this  pt  efent  Relation. 
 
 I  mould  think  my  felf ,  faid  he,  the  happicft  man 
 alive  were  I  but  able  to  correfpond  with  you  in  [he  du- 
 ties and  offices  of  friendfliip  •,  and  were  I  not  con- 
 tained to  return  you  only  a  weak  and  fruitlefs  paffi- 
 on,  for  that  efficacious  love  which  hath  done  me  fo 
 many  fervices.  It  troubles  me  a  little  to  find  that  my 
 paflion  is  as  ufelefs  as  it  is  cxtream  :  and  as  void  of  be- 
 nefit to  you  as  it  is  violent  in  it  felf.  It  is  no  lefs  bar- 
 ren than  I  doubt  it  may  be  burdenfome  3  and  hath  as 
 little  profit  as  I  fee  it  hath  brought  you  much  trouble. 
 Though  the  honour  be  very  great  you  have  done  me 
 in  bellowing  fuch  a  place  upon  me  in  your  heart ;  yet 
 
 I  know 
 
the  Tarahle  tf  the  Tllgrlm.  j  2 , 
 
 I  know  not  fometimes  whether  I  mould  not  complain 
 in  the  enjoyment  of  a  favour,  which  as  it  was  not  in 
 my  hands  to  deferve,  fo  I  cannot  poflibly  requite.  True 
 indeed  it  is  that  I  have  given  my  felf  to  you;  but  that 
 is  no  more  than  ftrict  Juftice  exacts,  fince  I  have  re- 
 ceived your  felf  as  a  gift  to  me.  Friendmip  they  fay 
 is  a  commutation  of  hearts;  and  therefore  it  is  but  fit 
 that  you  fhould  have  mine  in  room  of  your  own.  And 
 yeralas!  mine  is  of  fuchfmall  value,  that  I  doubt  you 
 will  be  wholly  a  lofer  by  the  change.  Is  there  no 
 means  for  me  either  to  do  you  fervice,  or  to  reft  content 
 with  a  will  to  ferve  you  i  Cannot  you  either  (hew  me 
 how  I  may  be  ufeful  co  you ;  or  (hew^«r  [elf  a  difpo- 
 fition  to  it  in  that  heart  which  I  have  given  you  i  I 
 fhould  be  fatisfied,  I  think,  if  you  knew  my  will  as  well 
 as  my  felf.  It  remains  in  your  power,  not  my  own,  to 
 fettle  my  mind  in  peace ;  if  you  will  firft  believe  I  love 
 youi  and  then  fet  a  value  upon  that  Love,  which  you 
 know  is  thecaufc  of  all  well-doing  •  and  ought  not  to 
 be  blamed  for  want  of  power. 
 
 Very  true,  faid  his  Guide,  who  laid  hold  of  that 
 word,  I  think  that  I  have  found  a  treafure  in  your 
 Love  •,  and  I  will  have  it  pafs  for  currant  payment, 
 though  it  cannot  exprefs  it  felf  in  fuch  fenfible  effects 
 as  you  would  have  it.  It  is  enough  to  me  that  you 
 have  fuch  a  paflfionate  affection  for  me  >  though  ic 
 could  never  find  the  means  to  do  any  thing,  but  on- 
 ly tell  me  how  hearty  it  is.  I  am  pleafed  with  the  in- 
 tentions and  defires  which  you  have  to  do  me  any 
 good.  It  is  an  extraordinary  contentment  to  me  to 
 contemplate  the  imaginations  which  are  in  your  mind 
 of  what  you  would  do  for  me  5  could  power  be  courted 
 by  your  will  to  come  and  joyn  it  felf  unto  it.  They 
 Xxx  are 
 
rlz  The  far  able  of  the  Pilgrim. 
 
 are  the  Vulgar  who  call  nothing  benefits,  but  what 
 they  can  feel  with  their  fingers.  It  is  the  portion  of 
 grofs  Souls  to  he  infenfible  5  unlefs  your  courtefie*, 
 to  come  at  their  hearts,  pafs  through  their  hands. 
 The  purer  and  more  refined  Spirits  touch  the  very 
 Souls  of  Their  Friends,  and  feel  the  kindnefs  which 
 lyes  in  their  breafts.  They  are  fo  fubtil  as  to  fee  a 
 courtefie  while  it  is  fo  young,  as  to  be  but  only  in  de- 
 fign.  They  touch  it  before  it  be  doathed  in  matter, 
 or  have  pafled  beyond  the  confines  of  thoughts,  they 
 meet  it  in  the  firft  rudiments,  and  embrace  it  while 
 ix  is  only  in  meaning,  and  drawn  in  the  imagination. 
 They  receive  thefe  inward  ads  of  Love  as  moft  pure 
 and  fpiritual  ;  being  feparate  from  all  the  terreftrial 
 part  which  affect  the  Vuigar  minds.  And  in  one  word 
 there  is  not  any  thing  dearer,  to  them  than  thofe  moti- 
 ons of  the  Soul,  which  finding  nothing  they  can  do 
 correfpondent  to  their  own  greatnefs  and  force,  do 
 terminate  in  themfelves.  They  are  plcafed  to  fee  them 
 ftay  there,  and  go  no  further ;  becaufe  there  is  nothing 
 fairer  than  themfelves  to  be  met  withall,  wherein  to 
 end  and  refh 
 
 Do  not  depredate  your  affe&ion  therefore,  nor  vit- 
 lifieit  in  that  manner  you  are  wont ;  as  though  it  were 
 not  worthy  my  acknowledgement.  Do  not  tell  me  any 
 more  that  itis  not  valuable  Love  which  d.-th  not  fcrve 
 our  Friends :  for  this  fervice  depends  upon  occasions  ; 
 and  they  depend  on  an  higher  Being,  and  are  only 
 in  the  difpofe  of  Providence.  All  that  I  can  be  be- 
 holden to  you  for,  I  have  received  already  from  you  5 
 and  for  the  red,  if  it  could  be  bellowed  I  mud  make 
 my  acknowledgements  to  fomething  clfe.  Be  contented 
 shen  that  you  give  all  that  is  in  your  hands  j  and  that 
 
 a 
 
The  Tar  Me  of  the  Ttlgrhn.  52} 
 
 If  it  were  in  them  to  make  occafions,  you  would  ftill 
 let  thofebe  wanting,  which  moil  of  all  prove  a  friend. 
 Nay,  let  me  tell  you,  I  am  fo  favourable  in  my  opiaion 
 to  your  affection,  and  fo  apt  to  give  it  the  beft  advan- 
 tage 5  that  lam  not  yet  refolved,  but  there  may  be  as 
 much  n  blenefs  in  the  handfome  acknowledgement 
 of  a  kindnefs,  as  there  is  in  the  conferring  of  that  which 
 deferves  fuch  acknowledgement.  But  befidesall  this, 
 let  me  ask  you  a  queftion  ( for  I  am  refolved  to  ferret 
 this  fcruple  out  of  the  bottom  of  your  heart;  mould 
 you  not  love  me  unlefs  I  had  done  you  benefits  i  Tell 
 me  the  truth  ;  is  there  any  great  dearnefs  think  you 
 created  in  peoples  hearts  towards  each  other  by  this 
 means  i  For  my  part  I  have  often  found  the  oblerva- 
 tion  true  ;  that  the  remembrance  of  benefits  wears 
 out  of  mens  minds,  as  grief  doth  out  of  the  heart  of 
 afflicted  pcrfons;  from  which  every  moment  fteals  a 
 part.  Time  hath  power  over  the  one  as  well  as  the 
 other  j  and  it  diminifhes  the  affection  which  is  the  fruit 
 of  favours,  as  it  doth  the  forrow  which  is  produced  by 
 Iofles  and  calamities.  Nay,  fo  little  power  have  bene- 
 fits to  make  a  friend,  that  they  fometimes  make  a  foe. 
 There  are  fome  men,  the  more  they  owe,  the  more 
 they  hate.  A  little  debt  makes  a  man  a  debtor,  but  a 
 great  one  makes  him  an  enemy.  Whac  is  it  then  thac 
 produces  a  durable  Friendmip  i  Nothing  fure  buc 
 worth  and  defert  •,  together  with  the  agreeablenefs  of 
 a  pcrfon  to  our  humour,  and  his  refemblance  to  otir  dif- 
 pofition.  The  impreflfion  which  thefe  make  can  never 
 be  blotted  out.  Time  which  wipes  away  the  remem- 
 brance of  benefits,  can  never  efface  the  fenfe  of  worth 
 and  merit.  We  alwayes  carry  in  our  minds  the  amiable 
 perfections,  and  accomplimed  qualities  of  worthy  per- 
 fons.  We  alwayes  think  of  thofe  who  have  touched 
 Xxx  2  01  r 
 
ft  4.  Tf)e  Payable  of  the  Pilgrim, 
 
 our  inclinations  by  their  agreeable  nature.  And  I  ap- 
 peal to  you,  whether  you  could refufe  me  your  Love 
 though  you  were  not  fo  much  beholder  to  me  as  you 
 now  acknowledge.  And  whether  all  die  Kindnefies  in 
 the  world  would  produce  a  Frienulhip  with  tofc,if  you 
 faw  not  fomething  elle  to  wooe  your  affe  ->ion.  No.  tio, 
 my  Friend,  it  is  Gratitude,  not  Friendihip  which  is'  the 
 proper  effeel  of  benefits.  They  ought  to  di  pofe  us  to 
 fuitable  returns,  and  an  hearty  acknowledgement  i  but 
 they  cannot  oblige  us  to  entertain  him  for  a  F  i°rd 
 who  ts  bountiful  towards  us.  They  may  poflibly  make 
 our  Friendship  grow,  but  they  cannot  beget  ir.  They 
 maygiveitfome  nourishment,  buc  they  cannot  pro- 
 duce and  bring  it  forth.  It  depends  upon  an  higher 
 caufe,  it  owes  its  Original  to  fome  nobler  thing  ,  to 
 that  from  whence  all  good  benefits  and  offices  ouohc 
 to  come,  I  mean  a  great  love  and  a  fincere  afFetfion  * 
 which  if  deferts  be  not  wanting,  is  more  powerful  to 
 move  than  all  the  gifts  in  the  world  j  and  is  able  with- 
 out them  all  to  tye  us  faft  to  a  worthy  perfon.  Be  fo 
 -juft  then  to  yourfelf  and  to  me,  as  to  think  that  I  am 
 your  Friend,  though  you  do  not  beftow  thoie  benefits 
 on  me  which  you  defire  5  fince  they  can  ferve  only  (as 
 I  faid)  to  make  me  thankful,  but  not  your  Friend  I 
 efteem  you  very  highly  for  your  felf,  and  upon' the 
 account  of  your  own  proper  worth,  which  I  am  fure 
 doth  put  me  into  the  next  difpofition  to  be  your 
 Friend.  And  fince  you  have  added  to  your  own  de- 
 ferr,  a  very  great  Love  to  me  ;  that  cannot  but  com- 
 pleat  it,  and  make  me  perfe&ly  yours.  This  Love  alone 
 hath  been  thought  fufficient  to  make  a  Friend  $  and 
 indeed  is  more  powerful  than  any  benefits.  Accord- 
 ing to  that  of  Hecatm  ;  Wouldft  thou  know  how  to 
 get  a  Friend  '.  I  will  mew  thee,  and  thou  (halt  ufe  nei- 
 ther 
 
The  f  arable  of  the  Tilgriml  c  i  < 
 
 ther  Medicament,  Herb,  or  Inchantment  to  produce 
 the  affecfti  >n  thou  dedreft.  If  thou  rvilt  be  beloved' 
 Love.  When  Vercue  then  and  it  have  made  a  league*- 
 and  it  (hews  it  felf  in  a  fubjecl:  whofe  qualities  alfo  are 
 worthy  to  be  embraced  »y  its  force  muft  needs  beir- 
 reliftible*  and  leave  us  no  power  to  withftand  its  de- 
 fires. 
 
 The  poor  Pilgrim  remained  aftonimed  a  while  at 
 the  kindnefs  of  this  difcourfe  :  And  finding  himfelf 
 overwhelmed  with  the  weight  of  fuch  Love,  was  fain 
 to  drive  very  much  to  recover  a  power  of  making  this 
 fhort  reply  unto  it.  I  am  utterly  ignorant,  faith  he,  what 
 worth  it  is  thatyou  afcribeto  me,  which  hath  brou^hc 
 me  into  your  good  efteem,  and  obtained  me  the  noble 
 title  of  your  Friend.     I  fee  that  I  pleafe  you,  but  I 
 know  not  what  it  is  that  fliould  give  you  that  plea  ure. 
 I  find  my  felf  very  happy  ;  but  what  hath  advanced  me 
 to  this  felicity  I  cannot  define.     And  truly  fince  it  is 
 your  will  to  have  me  fo,  I  will  not  be  too  bufie  and  cu- 
 rious in  examining  the  caufes  of  ray  good  fortune ;  nor 
 will  I  leek  toleffenmy  wrorth,  left  info  doing  I  fhould 
 upbraid  you  with  a  bad  foundation  of  your  Love.  No,. 
 1  will  rather  think  I  am  worth  fomething,  than  render 
 your  judgement  nothing  worth.     I  will  think  of  my 
 felf  as  ycu  would  have  me,  that  you  maynotfeem  to 
 bemiftaken.     There  is  nothing  elfe  can  make  me  of 
 any  value ;  unlets  ubethat  I  had  the  wit  to  judge  of 
 the  defervings  of  fuch  a  perfon  as  your  felf.  It  is  a  mark 
 they  fay  of  fome  I'ufficicncy  to  be  able  to  difcem  an  able 
 perfon  from  a  flamy  wir.     It  is  a  note  I  have  heard  of 
 great  wifdom  to  choofe  an  excellent  Friend.     By  this 
 I  am  told  a  man  is  known  to  others,  and  I  have  little 
 elfe  whereby  to  know  my  felf.     This  is  the  chiefrft 
 
 thing' 
 
5 1 6  The  <P  arable  of  the  Tilor'itn. 
 
 '  thing  that  makes  me  fee  I  am  not  fo  unfortunate  as  I 
 thought.  I  perceive  I  am  worthy  of  Tome  efteem,  be- 
 caufe  I  had  the  judgement  to  fet  fuch  an  efteem  upon 
 your  (elf.  For  I  muft  needs  confefs,  that  though  ycur 
 favours  could  have  impofed  a  greater  neceflky  upon 
 me  of  loving  than  you  will  allow  ;  yet  I  feel  that  I  am 
 not  beholden  to  them  for  my  Inclination  to  love  you. 
 That  is  fomething  more  ancient  than  any  benefits  you 
 can  beftow  :  and  depends  only  on  your  own  merits. 
 And  let  it  not  be  judged  an  amplification  to  fay,  that 
 they  are  fo  great,  that  they  will  not  leave  it  to  my 
 choice,  either  whether  I  will  love  you  or  no,  or  how 
 much  I  will  love  you^  but  they  conftrain  me  to  love 
 you  as  much  as  1  can.  It  is  a  constraint  indeed  to 
 which  I  am  very  willing,  there  being  no  violence  of- 
 fered but  of  what  my  own  Judgement  is  the  caufe  : 
 yet  it  is  irrefiftible-,  and  I  can  never  be  of  any  other 
 mind,  nor  have  a  will  to  difpofe  of  my  affections  other- 
 wayes.  Nay,  I  cannot  for  my  life  but  think  that  your 
 favours  area  part  of  your  deferts  5  and  that  there  is 
 fomething  peculiar  in  them  to  merit  mine  afTecYion. 
 They  flow  purely  from  your  own  g:odnefs,  and  owe 
 not  themfelves  fo  much  as  to  my  entreaties.  You 
 have  not  put  me  to  the  trouble  of  begging  ycur  kind- 
 nefies,  but  they  ran  to  me  of  their  own  accord.  I  did 
 but  ask,  and  you  were  pleafed  to  open  your  hearr3 
 and  give  me  a  liberal  gift.  I  did  but  nhew  my  need  > 
 and  you  inftantly  inriched  me  with  your  felf.  And 
 ever  fince  I  have  not  had  fo  great  a  care  to  conceal  my 
 griefs,  as  you  have  taken  to  find  them  out.  Nor  have 
 you  fuffered  my  troubles  to  fpeak,  before  you  faw 
 them  in  my  looks.  All  your  favours  likewife  have 
 flowed  fo  fieelyfrom  you,  that  there  was  no  hope  they 
 fh  uldretu.n  again.    They  have  brought  me  a  great 
 
 deal 
 
The  ?  arable  of  the  Tilgrim.  j  17 
 
 deal  of  happinefsj  bur  could  not  be  thought  to  come 
 to  fetch  any  to  him  that  fent  them.  This  adds  ex- 
 ceeding much  to  the  efteem  I  have  conceived  for  you. 
 This  will  ever  make  me  to  propound  you  as  the  pattern 
 of  an  excellent  Friend.  And  if  I  were  now  to  dye,  it 
 would  be  one  of  the  laft  words  I  fhould  fycak  to  thofe 
 that  love  me.  Remember  that  thofe  will  be  your  worfi 
 enemies  ;  not  to  whom  you  bdve  done  evil^  but  who 
 fjAve  done  evil  to  you  :  and  thofe  rvill  be  your  be  ft 
 Friends  ;  not  to  wlyomyou  hive  done  good^  but  who  have 
 done  good  to  you. 
 
 THE    END.