A CONTEMPLATION OF HEAVEN: WITH AN EXERCISE OF LOVE AND A DESCANT ON THE Prayer in the Garden.  
By a Catholic Gent.  PSAL. 73. 25. 
Quid mihi est in coelo; & à te quid volui super terram?  
AT PARIS, Printed in the YEAR 1654.   

To the Virtuous and Honourable LADY, The LADY KATH: WHITE.  
MADAM,  
NO wonder if a complaint falling from your mouth, that you found the consideration of Heaven dry, and knew not how to frame a content some thought of it, was able to set a dull wit on work, and make an insipid pen distil milk and honey: for it is you that do it. Accept therefore these nine drops of oil, which the fervour of your desire has extracted from a hard Flint. But I must advertise you, they still retain their stony nature; and unless you apply the same fire, according to the Rules of Alchemy, beginning with a soft and gentle heat, and proceeding with a constant increase; they will neither render their sweetness to your sense, nor their balsamic virtue to your substance. For (Madam) in the perusal of these Discourses, you will easily find the best method to be, first quietly to read them, seeking no farther than only to understand, and afterwards by more serious thoughts to imprint and sink them deep into your affections. By serious thoughts, I mean not forced impetuosities of your will, upon a conceit that you are rapt to supernatural and unintelligible heights; but only such reflections as the care of friends, of children, or household affairs (where your help is required) use to stir in you: for these are natural and free, and (applied to what ought to be our greatest care) work those solid virtues which make a true Christian life the principal aim of all our desires and endeavours, and the principal wish to your Ladyship of,  
MADAM, Your most affectionate Brother and humble Servant, THO: WHITE. From Paris this 1. of Sept. 1653.   

Th' Address to English CATHOLICS.  
BEhold that rich Comfort, whereof in vain you court and scramble to retrieve the least Drop below in this your Novercall country; behold it here familiarly stooped to woe your lips from Supernal Jerusalem, the true and free Mother of us all. The greedy thirst of One (now inebriated above) obtained for Herself some years since this Elixir; which the choking necessity of these hot Times has at length dissolved into a charitable diffusion of itself to the wide world. Drink you, dear Friends, jovially of it; (the deeper the sweeter;) without fear of excess, which will surelyest render it a calm Lethe to your sufferings here, and make wider passage and room in you for that Torrent of Pleasure, it earnest's hereafter.  
And though this cheering Cup be proper for you alone, (the happily enroled Guests, already sweeting in the royal way to the future Feast;) yet is it not grudged, nor wilt, I hope, be unprofitable to those many others (invited too) your hapless Countrymen, who either ramble through by-Lanes, miserably erring, or lie in the Hedges timorously watching, or lazily sleeping, whilst (alas) they pretend your Errand: since, it's bosom Design and choice Virtue is contrived to rouse and rally the Spirits, and inveigling the Taste, to beget and sharpen the Appetite; which thus, perhaps, alarmed, might pro, voke a solicitude, and compel them too to come in that our dread King's house may be full.   

A CONTEMPLATION OF HEAVEN, Between the Soul and Light.  

The first discourse.  Soul. 
WOe's me! why was I born to see the Sun? why did my Mother rejoice to hear me cry, and to receive the news that I was a living Soul?  Light. 
Why dost thou moan so pitifully? Cast thine eyes upon the Almighty, who hath so often comforted, and still surely continues his assistance to thee.  Soul. 
Why do I moan, to whom there is left neither rest in this world, nor hope in the next? here I do nothing but offend my God, and there what can I expect, but a just Judge of my perpetual offences?  Light. 
Why do you offend him so often?  Soul. 
Alas! I do what I can, I am in continual watchfulness over myself, I am always making Examen of my Conscience, but I find no end, no amendment. My thoughts prevent my care, and in despite of me, draw me to trespass; whilst I am solicitous of one, another escapes; and thus I live a tortured life, ever seeking Innocence, and that still flying me.  Light. 
And do you think God is displeased so highly with you, yourself using all this care and diligence?  Soul. 
How can he choose, I offending him so perpetually?  Light. 
Do you hurt him, when you offend him?  Soul. 
No, my good does him no good, nor can my malice do him any harm, yet I offend and anger him.  Light. 
Do you then believe he is in heart vexed and grieved, as we are, when we are angry?  Soul. 
Not so neither, for than he received harm and were mutable, since this boiling of anger in us is a great mischief.  Light. 
Why, take away this, and anger is nothing but a will to punish you; and can you think God hath such a will? no just man, no good natured Creature is delighted in punishment, much less Almighty God.  Soul. 
Why are we then perpetually frighted with Hell for great faults, and Purgatory for lesser ones, which two continually hang over my head, in a dreadful manner threatening and tormenting me?  Light. 
Though Almighty God be not desirous to punish, yet he were not so good as yourself would wish him, if, seeing your own miscarriage would lead you to great torments, he did not foretell you of them, and use all means apt to hinder you from falling into them: hence therefore he forbids those actions, by which you draw upon you such mischiefs, he denounces those mischiefs if you abstain not from such actions, he promises infinite rewards if you observe what he prescribes you; which are the ways to deal with Men, as Men.  Soul. 
This comes but another way to the same point; for still those terrors hang upon me, and the same carefulness is necessary to me; and consequently the same torment in this life, and desperation of that to come.  Light. 
If you are resolved of this, that sin offends not God, farther than as it disorders yourself, you see your care must be changed, and your solicitousness in acts of Penance and Mortification to satisfy for your sins, must be principally applied in correcting your disorder, and settling your heart and affections in a due way and poise; which will be your best means to take away the horror of Hell and Purgatory so much afflicting you.  Soul. 
What must I do to redress the disorder of my soul? or wherein consists the due ordering of it?  Light. 
A Soul is that by which Man excels all other Creatures; this we see to be by knowledge and government of himself: by knowledge therefore the Soul is then in good order, when it truly knows all things belonging to the government of Man's life, and governs the Man according to that knowledge.  Soul. 
Why this is but nature, whereas to go to Heaven, 'tis necessary we walk in a supernatural Path, much contrary to nature; wherefore sure this cannot be right.  Light. 
There are two things in Man which are called Nature; one Reason, which truly is his Nature, ruling all his actions as he is Man, and distinguishing him from Beasts. The other is this frame of our Material Instruments, which we call our Body, consisting of Motion, of Blood and Spirits, which have a course in us so depending from other causes, that nevertheless a great part is in our power. Of these two Natures, Reason often contradicts the Inferior, and therefore Grace and our supernatural way must do the same: Whereas for Reason, Grace never contradicts it, but guides it, and shows it that many things (which otherwise it would never have attained to) are very reasonable, and by force of reason itself ought to be enacted and put in execution. For our supernatural life is like a Graft, which though it bear a better fruit than the Stock, yet can it bring forth nothing but by means of that, and in the season wherein the Stock of itself flourishes.  Soul. 
Then I must employ my time in gaining knowledge, and governing myself according to it; but what should I seek to know?  Light. 
Your enquiry may be fully satisfied, if you confine your search to these two Heads, To learn the things that concern you in the next life, which are chiefly, Heaven and Hell; in Heaven I comprehend all that belongs to Almighty God, as well to his Godhead as his Humanity: And secondly, to study what in this life imports you, which is the real valuation of those motives that govern mankind here, and the true and strait way that leads to bliss hereafter.  Soul. 
Surely this cannot choose but be a pleasant and delightsome Method: For what more pleasant then to know, especially such truths as most are ignorant of? what more delightsome, then to enjoy a clear serenity of mind, free from those errors we see our Neighbours tossed and turmoiled in? But above all, what can be so ravishing, as to understand we are in the direct path towards those great felicities promised us in the next life?  Light. 
If you take the right course and ply it diligently, you shall (instead of that anxious and troublesome way you walk) possess all this pleasure and much more, whereof, as yet, you have no feeling: nay (which you little think) your whole pursuit shall be after pleasures, and those the highest this life can afford. For, since Reason is our Nature (which hath the greatest stroke in all our actions) and whatever is conformable to Nature, the more powerful Nature is, the more pleasant that must be; it follows, the pleasures of Reason are greater far than those of Sense. Now Grace being but an heightening of Reason, what is conformable to Grace must be still more pleasing to Nature.  Soul. 
I can easily apprehend the Contemplation of Heaven must be full of pleasure, especially if the Contemplatour finds in himself hopes of attaining thither: but I know not how the dreadful consideration of Hell and Death and Judgement should be pleasing, being of themselves such frightful things.  Light. 
As for those fearful objects, you need not trouble yourself yet, if you find the considerations of Heaven take hold of your Soul, which (when they are once settled and well possessed of your heart) will alone so entertain and fill you, that you will be free and secure from the irksomeness of other apprehensions: but you must first strive to be in love with heaven and heavenly things, if possibly you can.  Soul. 
I confess, hitherto my considerations have been very dry, I not being able to make any apprehension of what pleasure can possibly be found, where all that gives us content here will be wanting.   

The second discourse.  Light. 
NOw, if you were sure to find there the same pleasures you enjoy here, in this only changed, that what ever makes them short, noisome, tedious, or allays them here with any other discommodity, is not there to be found, so that the pleasure is there more clear, more sweet, perpetual, and never cloying; you must, of necessity, make a good apprehension of a desirable place, and lovely end to aim at.  Soul. 
If you can make me see this, I hope I shall be better affected to Heaven, & that with a natural tye. Whereas now I force myself to love a thing, which I cannot understand what it is.  Light. 
Well then, do you take pleasure in company of friends with whom you can be free?  Soul. 
Very much, especially if their discourse be such as goes down with some smartness and delight.  Light. 
At least then there's one pleasure in heaven which you can relish: for friends and acquaintance you cannot want there; all that are in Heaven knowing all, being familiar with all, and their hearts lying open to all; so that what delight you can imagine in conversation, you shall have there a thousand fold multiplied above what it is here.  Soul. 
But that which pleases me here, is to be with a friend in a corner, where no body may hear our discourse; for it would be a great annoyance to have any one partaker of our secrets.  Light. 
And why (if you have reflected upon it) is it troublesome to have overhearers of your discourse?  Soul. 
Because some would laugh at my follies or imperfections, and jeer at my conceits, different from theirs; others would carry tales abroad, and make a business of nothing; others are indiscreet, and altogether unable to give me either advice or comfort, but talk nonsense, and rather trouble me then do me good.  Light. 
Then if the company were such, that from every one you could promise yourself all respect, love, prudence, and such parts as should be fit to improve & heighten the content you aimed at; the plurality of those with whom you converse would rather strengthen your pleasure, than any way diminish it.  Soul. 
'Tis true, but I cannot conceive, if the company be greater than a certain proportion, which by interchange may still keep life in the discourse, but that the conversation must either be hindered, by many speaking at once, or dull, by one party's speaking so seldom.  Light. 
But, on the contrary, if you did apprehend the whole multitude without intermission speaking together, and that he that speaks, perfectly understood all the rest, and himself also were perfectly understood by every one; so that each continually declared his own mind without the least impediment to understand perfectly at the same time what all others said; and this not only to himself, but any one to any other: do you not see what the proportion of content by such discourse would be to the satisfaction you find here, when you are in the fullest career of joy that ever you experimented, or can wish, or even imagine, according to the course of our conversation?  Soul. 
If this were true, I see an extreme increase of pleasure in Heaven, over the greatest our Nature is capable of here: but withal, I see it is impossible men should hear and understand so many persons together, and speak to them all in exchange.  Light. 
I confess this is hard to be believed by one that hath not yet reached to the nature of a Spirit: but he that could conceive all this we call Body, and diffusion of bigness and parts, must of necessity be resumed in the indivisible thing we call a Spirit, (so that all the imaginable operations of material substances can never arrive to equal the activity of the least Spirit) he would easily allow it this privilege of being capable to do as much as a thousand tongues, and a thousand ears at once. But 'tis not my task now to evince a possibility, only to exact a belief of this opinion, and upon supposal of its truth, show you how infinitely greater the content in Heaven must necessarily be, than the highest pleasure this world can afford.  Soul. 
But unless I talk of such persons and things, as both myself and they with whom I converse, know and are acquainted with the circumstances of every passage, the conversation is dry and unpleasing. Now here they are very few, who have knowledge of the same particulars that I have; for their number is confined to such as I live withal; and I know not whether I can expect to meet many of them in heaven, the straightness of the way and the paucity of the enterers being so often and so strongly inculcated to us.  Light. 
It were a very hard question to determine the number of those that go to heaven, and at this time would divert our discourse: only this I will say, that the paucity of the blessed may well stand with this truth, that many of such Christians as live innocently in the world are saved. Wherefore I fear not but you may have enough to converse with, who are acquainted with the particulars yourself are. But what will you think, if every one hath as clear a sight of all your circumstances, as your own heart? for it were a great simplicity to imagine the Soul, abstracted from the Body, hath no means to know things without it, since in the Body it hath; and, if it be furnished with any means, it is not possible but it should know whatever it pleases. But (as I said before) the proof of these things is to be sought elsewhere: here we are only to consider how great and full the pleasure of a blessed Soul is, these things being so as I have declared.  Soul. 
I must confess you have now made Heaven a tractable thing to me: for by these considerations, I do not only find a common apprehension of good, but I can lay hands upon intelligible pleasures, whereby to content my natural desires, and with hope thereof make them pursue the endeavours, and undergo the difficulties necessary to the attaining them.  Light. 
Reflect then a little, and sum up, or rather conclude what kind of life in Heaven this pleasure will afford you. Remember some afternoon or couple of hours, in which your pleasing conversation hath been at height, remember the twinkling of some one conceit, which especially carried away your heart, and for the time possessed it wholly: think with yourself, had the whole two hours continued like that minute, how unspeakable your pleasure had been. Then elevate your fancy, and conceive in Heaven, not hours, nor days, nor years, but ages of ages, but an eternity will be of that dainty ravishing contentment. Join (if you are able) all these increases and advantages, which we have expressed, whereof there is not one but draws an incomparable extremity with it: and if only this were once well master of your thoughts, I do not see how any temporal thing could either please or discontent you, or that you would not as much long for death, as now you adhorre and fear it.  Soul. 
The world's changed with me, I find myself refreshed with this thought, and in a cheerful disposition.  Light. 
Yes for the present, but it will not stay long with you, unless you play your part, and cultivate the opening seeds, which now ferment in your heart: and this must be by often thinking of and remembering these and such other considerations, partly at set times, and partly whenever you find yourself in a fitting disposition, that is, at ease, alone, & your mind free, or peradventure inclined to good thoughts; lose not these tides, as I may call them, for they bring great waves of spiritual profit. In the happy opportunity, strive to penetrate with a clear understanding the verity of such points; then turn yourself upon yourself, and see what you do, and what you should do according to these truths. Encourage yourself to what is wanting, amend what is amiss, and sigh after the great reward we all labour for.   

The third discourse.  Soul. 
HItherto it goes well, but in so great a happiness and so glorious a State, is there but one content?  Light. 
If there were no other than what is already declared, I believe there were more, not only then you can wish in this world, but also then you would be weary of in the next. Nevertheless since your palate is so dainty that it must have varieties, think with yourself what other thing there is here, wherein you take great pleasure, and love to spend your time.  Soul. 
The next that comes to my mind is, that I am much delighted with Masks and Shows, and in going to Court, especially when there are great meetings and bravery there; these things extremely take me, in so much that I can endure to expect a great while (as half a day or more) in some disease, to be present at such sights and Assemblies.  Light. 
And when these things are in their perfection, can you tell what it is that therein delights you?  Soul. 
I think it is those passages which (meeting afterwards with others that have or have not been there) I use to discourse of and commend. And all those being either Things, or Persons; in Things I commend the greatness, beauty, or good proportion, some fine conveyance, some rare and new invention: in Persons I praise their comeliness, the gracefulness of their behaviour, the perfection and completeness of their actions. These I conceive for the most part are the principal causes of the delight and relish I find in such encounters.  Light. 
I hope than you will not want this contentment also in heaven. For (to begin with Persons) you shall have in your company those who have ever been the greatest and worthiest in all considerations; Adam the beginner of the World, & Noah its restorer; you shall have Abraham the Father of that Nation, which, after so many age's continuance in the Prerogative of the Elect people of Almighty God, is now by their dispersion into all Nations, become to them a Testimony of Christianity; you shall have Moses, who, like the Lieutenant of the highest, in all sorts of miracles established the Law, the Field wherein Christianity was blazoned; you shall have David and Solomon, (if his Penance was true in his old days) you shall have Kings, Captains, and Prophets, all in their degrees before Christ. What shall I say of Christ and his Apostles, of Bishops, Martyrs and Hermit's? what of the so fruitful devouter Sex? All these have expressed the most generous evidence of Universal Gallantry, and shown the noblest effects of all such virtues as breed admiration in humane hearts. What Court, what Mask, what Show can feign or counterfeit so much, as Heaven will afford you real objects to be ravished with?  Soul. 
'Tis true, but I am not taken with these high and sublime virtues, which I do not well apprehend. But if I see a Gentleman Noble, Liberal, Courteous, Valiant, and Honourable of his word, such qualities make a deep impression in my affections.  Light. 
Why then, if you find all these perfections, not only to be in your Company above, but in a far higher degree too, and greater measure of excellency than can be in any persons here, you must certainly be charmed with a strange excess of Pleasure. And (to enter a little into the business) I cannot doubt so much as to ask, whether you are pleased with the outward show of these virtues, which are in the Heart.  Soul. 
You need not, for were they counterfeit, or no greater in the heart then in the outward show, I should lose my esteem of the persons. But out of one generous Act expressed, we imagine the heart, ready to perform a hundred, & to be as it were naturally and unchangeably fitted to do the like again, when occasion is offered: this makes me highly value and be delighted with the person.  Light. 
Then if heaven afford you thousands and millions of hearts, which you may see into, as clearly as into the purest stream or fountain of water you can imagine, and there behold all these admirable qualities in a high perfection, and so immutably settled, that sooner heaven and earth may fall in pieces, than they decline the least tittle from that degree of worth they are exalted to; how can you then doubt that your pleasure there, even in this very kind, will not be infinitely preferable to the greatest the world can furnish you? And for those high virtues, of which you say you feel little apprehension; your state there will be so improved, that you will be able exactly to penetrate the true value of every one, which will make you see with how much passion, ignorance, and oversight the greatest actions of this life are managed. You'll discern evidently that the valour of Captains, the wisdom of Statesmen, the skill of great Clerks, are not comparable to, make no bulk or show in comparison of that Knowledge, Prudence and Courage, which those contemned persons, and here reputed-fools ever carried enclosed in their breasts. Think what infinite pleasure and content you will infallibly receive in contemplating them, and being informed of their worths.  Soul. 
All this I must of necessity confess, but yet I do not see that in heaven there will be either the comeliness of the persons, the gracefulness of their behaviour, or the variety of their attires, and such otherthings, wherewith (I speak but in mine own weakness) I often find myself here much taken and carried away.  Light. 
Alas! do you not consider that all these are but mute and imperfect expressions of the interior mind; and that it is the thing signified which takes you in them all, or else their artifice and conveyance? In speaking whereof you pass into the other part, of Things, which you distinguished against the consideration of Persons. For take away the mind, and all the rest may be in a Puppet-play or motion, as they call it. Consider again with yourself, that a cunning Architect is delighted as much with the Model of a House, as you with the building itself; a good Musician with the notes in his head, as you with the singing. Out of which I draw this great and curious truth; that when you shall be perfect in knowledge (as is expected in Heaven) you will not look after these outward expressions, but the Models which are in the hearts you will see will satisfy and fill the desires beyond all you can wish or imagine.  Soul. 
Peradventure what you say is not only true, but extremely efficacious, according to the state we shall be in there; but yet I feel not that impression which wont and well known objects use to work in me. If there are not even these corporeal motions and fashions which delight me so extremely here with their novelty, variety, extravagance and excellency, me thinks I apprehend a drought, not of what shall be there, but of the apprehending what I see shall be there, yet cannot make carry my fancy.  Light. 
Since nothing will content you but the flesh and blood you are nuzzled in, and that you must carry to heaven with you the very imperfection (if not of your own mind yet) of the world you live in: let us at one blow seek to give a resolution, not only to this your desire, but also to the other part, that is, concerning those qualities which delight you in Things as well as in Persons. Do you therefore remember the answer our Saviour gave to the Sadduces concerning Marriage in the next world?  Soul. 
You mean, That we should neither marry, nor be married, but be like the Angels of God: This I remember well; but I desire to know why you put me in mind of it.  Light. 
Wherein do you conceive the likeness to Angels consists? For if it be only in this Negative, why should that be promised for a happiness? whereas we see the benedictions of marriage promised for a benefit & content.  Soul. 
When I reflect that Angels have no bodies, and therefore all their nature is to be purely knowing Creatures, me thinks our Saviour in these words signifies to us, that the pleasures of the next world should not consist in these corporeal motions which here are grateful to us, by reason of our bodies; but that they should be of knowledge, such as are proportioned to Angels: and although we should have bodies, yet they should not hinder our knowledge and pleasure even by them, from being such as the Angel's contentment is, at least in likeness, if not in equality.  Light. 
You are very right, and do you not see every man conceits that, though Angels are no bodies, yet they have means (and those natural means too) to see and know any thing that passes amongst bodies? do you not hear them set for Governors of corporeal things, even men delivered to their charge? Wherefore you cannot but believe they have a natural power and force to know all things here below at their will and pleasure. Conceive then that Souls freed from the body have the same capacity, though in a less degree; and that at will they can see what passes in this world, and not only in this Globe of earth, the world of Man, but in all the other infinite Mass of Bodies, which in truth and rigour is termed the world. Now therefore imagine yourself seated upon a high hill (such as the Devil placed our Saviour on) with your eyes so perfect and sharp, that whatsoever you had a mind to see, no remoteness of place, no Hills or Dales, no Clouds or darkness, no Walls or Dungeons could hide from you: and then think, what could your heart desire in this sort of pleasure, that you were not Mistress of? and know that all is far short of what the state of bliss will afford you, even in this kind. For neither could you in that posture (no not in a Masking house itself) note all particulars to be seen, nor listen to all you would desire to hear, nor know all you would be earnest to ask; and (which is most of all) you could attend but to one thing at once: whereas in the state of bliss, you shall discern every circumstance perfectly, and all things that are done at once you may know altogether, the one not hindering the other, though there be thousands of them.  Soul. 
But shall I see then whatever I will, of all that passes in this world?  Light. 
It follows clearly out of what we have said, make no doubt of it, but raise your thoughts and mark. There is a General mustering his flourishing Troops, his Drums beating, his wanton Colours dancing in the Air, his Commanders as glorious as the Stars in the Firmament, his Ranks and Files glittering in fearful steel; Majesty, beauty and strength at one sight ravishing the beholders. Here is a Marriage or entertainment of some great Prince, the wits of two Kingdoms set a work for invention of sports and Ballads; what Water, Fire, Aire, and the dull weight of Earth can do, all scanned by exact Artificers, and the purest quintessence reduced into a model or taste, to please the ambition of empty-souled Lords. There is a great Admiral commanding the obedient Waves, and prancing over the Billows with Mast upon Mast, loaden with towered wings, his Streamers fluttering, his Canon roaring, his People shouting. In other places battles joining, some by Sea, some by Land; assaults giving and repulsing, undermining of Walls, entrance upon breaches, Murderers devouring all before them with flaming mouths. Here great Winds and Shipwrecks; there glorious Palaces, mighty Treasures, rich Jewels, Inventions of all sorts to content those whom Industry or Fortune hath made the Masters of Money. These and a thousand other things, which at leisure you may reflect upon, (especially those wherewith you are most affected) consider and think that with a cast of your understanding, more quick than any twinkling of an eye, you shall see; not one which you most desire, but all, all you can desire at once, one not hindering the other.  Soul. 
O glory, O happiness, O Bliss! now you have struck me to the heart. O when will the happy day come, that I shall sit at this Fountainhead, and not need with pain to draw the water of pleasure? When shall I arrive at this sweet ravishment and ecstasy?   

The fourth discourse.  Light. 
GOd Almighty be praised, who, as he created Man of Dust and slime, so forgets not what he is made of; but provides Motives even out of that to enamour him of true bliss and happiness. This last consideration is the slightest of all I have proposed to you, and when you come to understand yourself, you will take least content in it, yet how are you now ravished with it? But because your distraction is great, I think I had best put you in mind of one circumstance, which peradventure you may forget. When you go to these Masks and great meetings, do you not take pleasure to be seen, as well as to see what passes there?  Soul. 
What need I say Yes, to you that know better than myself the most hidden thoughts of my heart? how can I counterfeit to the Light, which shines into every corner of my Conscience, and shows myself so clearly to me? I confess therefore that I seldom go, but to be seen hath its share in my wishes; nay, sometimes the greater: This makes me so exact in dressing myself, that all things may contribute to their good liking of me; this makes me choice of my Company and place, and desirous of any thing that may draw eyes upon me. Happy they that can content themselves with admiring their own perfections in a Looking-glass! for my part, unless I have the commendations of others, I little satisfy myself. Hence also it is, that if any great personage take notice of me in public, my heart leaps to imagine the whispering of friends and strangers, the one taking notice of the favour done me, the other busily enquiring who is that so highly honoured: when if they light on any of my wellwishers, receiving in exchange a Catalogue of all that is good, and to be esteemed in me, O this is a sweet thing. And if perchance any of their discourse come to my ears, I know not how to express what a pleasing motion it makes in me. But should it happen that the King or Queen were the persons that graced me before all the Company, a year were not sufficient to receive congratulatory visits, to express every circumstance of the favour, to profess myself undeserving and overloaden, (though willing enough to hear others say, it was no more than I deserved.) These things I confess pass within me, but I am so afraid any should take notice on't, that fain I would persuade myself many times, my actions depend on other more justifiable motives. Wonder not therefore that I expect not this in Heaven, where all hearts being open, I shall not for shame desire it.  Light. 
How easily the comparison of this world misleads you in the estimation of the next? since there you shall desire it without shame, and possess it more fully than your heart can wish here. For if you look into your own desires, you shall find that two things chiefly delight you, to be known, and to be esteemed. For the former, consider here below the multitude of persons into whose knowledge you may fall, the quality of the knowledge they are to have of you, the worth of their persons, and the goodness of their judgements, which may make you joyful that their verdicts pass in your favour. As for the multitude, it scarce ever exceeds one Kingdom even in Princes, and of this Kingdom not one Shire, not one Town are familiarly acquainted, no not so much as to know you, if your clothes were changed, but you should walk undiscerned even in the streets.  Soul. 
That is true, but all those whose spirits are a little elevated will know me, and their acquaintance is only worth the wishing: others, whose low apprehensions cannot ascend to esteem the perfections of the higher sort of people, are to be neglected.  Light. 
But the higher you raise their abilities, the lesser you make their multitude; and even of those whose judgements you esteem in your whole life time, how many are you like to be known to? Consider, amongst those you know and are well acquainted with, how many of them yourself contemn: think whether every tenth person be thought fit to judge in those personal matters truly; if either King or King's Favourite be known to ten, (who are able justly to judge of worth betwixt Man and Man) I think it a great number. Turn then the leaf and look into Heaven, where no part of the Earth is excluded; of all Nations, of all Ages there are to be found, not one but whose judgement is a touchstone of truth, the number excessive, the quality of the persons incomparable. And if yet this do not content you, cast a view upon the vale of Jeho saphat, number if you can, the two great Armies which are at once to appear, the one glorious upon the Clouds with our Saviour Jesus Christ, the other upon the Earth: see there is not a child of Adam wanting, from Abel to him that was born the evening before this great day: and remember the verse of the old Sibyl— Cunctaque cunctorum cunctis arcana patebunt. every one, from the greatest to the least, shall know all that's true of you, all that you can say for yourself. Think what honour 'twill be at that day, to be graced by him that is in power; when all those multitudes shall see it, and clearly see as the glory you receive proceeds from the favour of the highest, so 'tis proportioned according to what of worth is really in your own person.  Soul. 
As I am now affected, I cannot choose but wonder how (believing what you say) I could so long live in neglect, without ever reflecting upon these two most evident truths; one, that the highest honour and reputation in this world is trivial and inconsiderable; for what is it to be in the good opinion of so few as I perceive come to the perfect and inward knowledge of us? the other, that truly Fame and Honour is to be found in the next world; especially at the great day of Judgement, at the meeting of Ages, where whole mankind and all the quires of Angels shall see & perfectly know all that concerns us. But I'm afraid that in so great multitudes I shall find little regard, here I'm esteemed amongst that small number I converse with; and 'tis a comfort that though my acquaintance be few, yet they are as many as I have need of, and my life is amongst no more: There in such an infinity, my place will be so low, and my share so small, that no body will vouchsafe me one cast of an eye.  Light. 
Consider then with yourself the esteem of the world, what it is, wherein you are confined to reflect only upon such as have sufficient acquaintance with you, to furnish them with occasion of understanding your worth; out of which number too you must exclude, first, all whose judgements are contemptible, because they are but half-witted people, Secondly, those who prefer unworthy respects, as Riches, Nobility, Comeliness, Beauty, Youth, etc. before true wisdom and the parts of Virtue, really and solidly adorning your person; I speak not of those supernatural graces which are generally contemned by men of this World, but of such endowments as the wiser sort prefer before all those empty toys that garboil the fancies of the multitude: Thirdly, take out of the rest, those who (upon design either of jeering for their own sport, or flattering for their private interests) sergeant to value and esteem you; as if some great man seem to court & honour you, what assurance can there be that his civilities proceed from his heart purely for your consideration, and not for some friend's sake or particular project; so that your back once turned, you are no sooner out of sight then out of mind? Nay, even amongst those who are sincere and cordial friends, how soon may therebe a change? upon what slight grounds perhaps took they this opinion? & upon as slight an occasion can they desert.  Soul. 
You leave me no breath, no starting-hole, no where to take a little air, to refresh myself in this world: for I see by your discourse, there is no glass so brittle as the opinion of Men, no Dirt so base as the Multitudes favour, and nothing so contemptible as who grounds himself upon their judgements. Already I understand that the judgements of Heavenly spirits, are not subject to these blemishes and contingencies; they are all true, all hearty, all constant, I must change if they do; for as long as I remain with the same worth, their Sentence cannot alter. Yet can I not see that my share shall be such there as may be taken notice of, but the multitude and excess of my betters will keep me without any respect, justly I confess, yet to my grief and pain.  Light. 
And why do you not reflect that Celestial spirits are able to attend all things at once? that neither the multitude of those who are to be esteemed, nor the excess of their excellency can any thing prejudice your felicity, when by every one, every degree of your perfections shall be known, considered, and valued as much, as if there were no others to be thought on but yourself? what can you desire more?  Soul. 
I cannot tell of what disposition I shall be in the next world, but I feel in this that no honour pleases me, unless it be with some preference before others; which, I confess, is not to be desired above, but here below: whilst we live in this valley of darkness, true worth does not clearly shine, nor can the degrees of merit be perfectly distinguished, and therefore every one may desire to be above another, hoping and, for the most part, believing the privilege of precedence due to his deserts. But this ignorance and the ambitious effects of it, must surely be banished from Heaven.  Light. 
I cannot grant you to be more honoured than those who deserve better, nor that they be not more honoured than you; yet happily this you may hope for, that none be preferred before you. You may peradventure have seen great Princes, when they entertain inferior ones, whom they will neither equal to themselves, nor yet disoblige by treating them in quality of Subjects; they contrive therefore all things so as each may be honoured without comparison, by having nothing common, which going from one to the other, may make an order and priority appear between them. Just so perhaps may't pass in Heaven: every spirit being as it were a world by itself, and having a particular perfection and excellency which is found in no other; every one therefore is chief and highest in its own kind, and by consequence eminently and supremely esteemed without order to, or dependence on any other than the common Father of all; every one extremely pleased with his own Excellency; and although the inhabiting truth must needs confess others better, yet nothing more fitting for this person; and so every one both joying in himself, and esteemed by others as the most rich and excellent piece of all, in his own particular property and degree.   

The fifth discourse.  Soul. 
AS you put me in mind of one thing I should have forgotten, so you have emboldened me to ask another I should else have been ashamed to propose, and yet I confess it has a great power & mastery over my affections: 'tis that I love to be beloved. If any show the least sign of kindness for me, methinks presently, they are the best persons in the world; neither is there so poor a wretch, but if I see in him a hearty expression of love towards me, I cannot choose but love him again. Alas, what do I talk of Men? if a little Dog or Bird, or any other dumb Creature come once to take a haunt to me, and be delighted in my pany, 'tis a death to see any harm befall them: and I find a very great satisfaction and content to see them play and pleased according to their low manner. Now if this love be wanting in Heaven, I fear 'twill put me out of conceit with the pleasures there.  Light. 
You are too fearful, and too little considerate of the joys you aim at. Think but with yourself that Charity is nothing but the love of God and your Neighbour, that 'tis the way to Heaven, and that of our three guides and conductors thither, only that remains with us; and see then whether there can be any fear you shall want love. Consider that the principal and main employment in Heaven is nothing else, but to love and be beloved; and those there are the greatest lovers, who are in the greatest favour and highest glory. For God himself is love, and none is in God, or God in them, but by love. Measure therefore with your thoughts the scope of Heaven, from God's eternal throne to the least child which by Baptism is made partaker of the Adoption of Christ; and be sure that all these shall love you, you especially, love you as much as if there were no others to be beloved but only yourself; that the higher and greater every one is, the more ardent, expressive and effectual shall his love be to you in person, in particular, by name and design. What do you now conceit of the base love of this world? of the love of Dogs and Birds? raise a little your thoughts, and look up at true love where it reigns in its full glory, where it shows itself in its Magnificence, fly at it there, fear not, if you love, it cannot escape you; make but your approaches, it will meet you: 'tis too ethereal for this cloudy region; lift but yourself above your body, and of itself it will bend and stoop to your Arms.  Soul. 
What you have said cannot choose but be a great comfort, but I have a foolish scruple, if you will give me leave to utter it; yet I need not be so coy, since you know enough by me: this ' 'tis. I have been taught that we should strive to love all men for Almighty God's sake; and so I suppose it passes in Heaven, that all these great lovers which you have expressed to be there, are of this Nature, that they will love me, because God Almighty commands it. And this alas, according to my low apprehension, gives me but little satisfaction, for this love and good will is not to me, but to Almighty God; whereas my perverseness is such, that I myself would be beloved: and I mark in myself a great difference between, when I give money to some little child I am pleased with, & when I bestow an Alms on a poor body that asks me for God's sake: in the one I find that affection I desire others should bear to me, towards the Beggar I have no such inclination; and the cause as I conceive is, that one seems to deserve my love, the other only to need it. Now if you tell me, that in Heaven they shall love me, but I shall not deserve it; I confess (as my affections now stand) 'twill be a great cooling to the esteem I desire to have of their love.  Light. 
How truly spoke he that said, I know myself a Man, that is, a proud and yet a wretched thing? Is it possible you cannot endure to be beloved beyond your desert? I fear you endure it often enough in this world, but here self-conceit makes you easily think not only all love and esteem due to you which is offered, but for the most part that too little is offered. Yet I have observed, sometimes it happens that we truly conceit another to show more affection towards us than we have deserved, though I never heard any offended at such excess, but rather highly pleased, and engaged to an endeavour of deserving it. Nevertheless I'll strive to give you content, even in this point: Therefore tell me what you think of a person in whom reason governs in full measure, so that not a thought passes but according to the pure direction of it: do you believe in such a person any love can be unreasonable?  Soul. 
No certainly: so far is past doubt.  Light. 
And if we love any thing more than it is amiable, do you think that love is reasonable?  Soul. 
I perceive whither you aim; that since in Heaven all's governed by reason, none there can love otherwise then according to desert: but withal I see there may be that desert in another and not in me; as for example, they shall love me because God (who deserves to be obeyed) commands them; and if only thus, I rest as unsatisfied as before.  Light. 
Why, do you conceive that God can command any unreasonable thing, especially there, where reason is in its perfection? (for here I know not what the mixture of bodily qualities with reason may make it reasonable for God to command.) or if God would command others to love you beyond desert, yet do you think that himself (being the essence of reason and understanding) can love you so? or that any one by his command can love you more than himself does?  Soul. 
This is right again: Yet I see we love many things for the connexion they have with some other, and not for themselves: a Dog, a Book, a Glove, from a beloved person is much made of, not for itself, but because the using it kindly is an expression, or rather a practice of our love towards the person to whom it belongs. So I imagine because I am a creature of Almighty God's making, and have cost his only Son so dear a price, those blessed spirits inflamed with the love of God, may also express an affection to me, which you see is wholly by the desert of another, not mine; and however it may be infinitely more than I deserve, yet is it not that which I expressed to be requisite to my content.  Light. 
Your palate is very nice and delicate, yet you shall be pleased. What think you then, where reason (as I asked before) is in full height, can any thing there be omitted which is reasonable to be done?  Soul. 
No certainly.  Light. 
And is it not reasonable that every lovely thing should be loved? and if any person have any loveliness, that there should be a poise and proportion of love for every grain of it in him?  Soul. 
All this is just and reasonable.  Light. 
Take notice then, there shall not be the least good quality in you, which shall not by every one be loved for its being what it is, and yourself be beloved for its being in you: wherefore sit down and consider what the things are for which in this world you reasonably desire to be esteemed, and know you shall be loved for them above, as much as they can deserve, as much as you can wish.  Soul. 
Peradventure, they are things I shall not carry with me; as wholly, or in part belonging to my body.  Light. 
No matter: You shall be beloved there, because you had such things in time and place, wherein 'twas fit to have them.  Soul. 
Now, surely, I have ground enough, without farther curiosity or dispute, to presume upon the content I desire, since you have so plainly and evidently demonstrated it. But I know not whether I am arrived at my hopes, for I feel in myself an expectation that my familiar friends and kindred, and such as I myself particularly love, should likewise return me a special love.  Light. 
Fear not, you shall have that also: For mark well the principle I told you, that there should not be the least thing loveworthy in you, but you shall be especially beloved for it. Now then, if Friendship, Kindred, Acquaintance, etc. be things which put a particular obligation of love upon those persons betwixt whom they are, you will be more lovely to them for these very respects: wherefore all those will love you more especially than any others; which I think is that you expressed to be your desire.  Soul. 
Yes, this is well: but yet a little difficulty molests me. I have been taught that God loves most and next to himself, the Angels or Saints, according as they are in degree under him: then if the lowest love me as much as I deserve, others will love me more than I deserve, which is against reason, and so impossible.  Light. 
Two things are to be considered in love; first the comparison of one beloved object to another; and this way all will love you according to your desert: for none shall prefer any thing less lovely before you, nor you before any thing more lovely: a second consideration is the strength of the affection we call Love, which (being according to the nature out of which it proceeds) in all above your condition will be greater than you deserve, in all under you, weaker; according to the proportion of their natures and strengths.  Soul. 
Yet one thing more comes into my mind: I see some strong natures, in whom (though by real effects it evidently appears they love their friend yet) there is no tenderness; you can observe no motion of love in their hearts, no show in their change of countenance: such a love gives me small content. Shall we therefore have in Heaven a melting, sweet, delicious love, or only those strong and solid thoughts, which as they are very good, so are they far from giving that pleasure, which this other soft and gentle love affords?  Light. 
Would you not think that man unreasonable, who being cold, and brought to a good fire, should refuse to warm himself, because there was no smoke, he having been always accustomed to smoky fires?  Soul. 
Yes certainly: for he contradicts his own pretence; smoke being a hindrance to the heating he desires, besides other inconveniences which render it offensive.  Light. 
Such is the passion you call Love, to that which truly is Love: for (everything being to be discerned by the effects) you shall see those who are most given to this whining sort of love, least active to help themselves, but wholly abandoned up to the following of their Passion, without endeavouring to procure what they desire. So in grief, if you see one fit still weeping and despairing, you count him womanish; and not so much that his sorrow is great, as that a little overcomes him. Besides, this passion is but an expression of the inward mind, or rather a wasting of it; for we see that ordinarily weeping eases and discharges the heart, which becomes lighter after such venting of itself by tears. So that this which you desire to have in Heaven, is not love, but an expression or concomitant of it, weakening and disturbing the affection for the present, and wasting it for the future; and therefore not fit to give content to such as understand the happiness of enjoying a place in Heaven.   

The sixth discourse.  Soul. 
THere's yet another thing wherein I find a great inclination and drawing of Nature; and certainly 'tis agreeable to some principle within me, though this kind of delight appears not so sensibly; 'tis in hearing and understanding what passes in the world. I cannot espy a whisper, but I long to know about what ' 'twas. If any of my neighbours or acquaintance have met with any change of fortune, I cannot endure to have it concealed from me: nay, the more secret such an accident is, the greater is my eagerness to know it: though, as I said, I observe not those sensible effects in this sort of Pleasure, as in the former; unless there happen a special reason, out of some other consideration to raise them. And, perhaps, the curiosity of hearing news proceeds from the same cause, and belongs to the same head; as also the love I have to reading Histories, & knowing what passed in our forefather's times: for this, I perceive, I long after, though I find not therein such apparent delight as in other entertainments.  Light. 
And why do you not mention too the feigned Histories & Romances which the world is full of? find you no delight in them?  Soul. 
Yes, very great & sensible, they being wholly contrived and framed, both in subject, fashion, and style to move, nay, even violently to force our delight, These therefore I did not range under this Head (as likewise seeing of Plays) because the content arising from them seems to be of a higher order, than those other pleasures I mentioned.  Light. 
See you not that other Histories and these are of one nature, though of different fashions? So that the delight reaped out of both must also of necessity be of the same nature. And as for Plays, they are but the ample expression of some little part of that which (comprised more shortly) makes a History: so that they all agree in substance, though differ from one another in circumstances. Tell me then, what is it that pleases you in all these things?  Soul. 
For plays and feigned Histories, I perceive myself taken with the Passions due to the subject represented. I see I have a tenderness and compassion towards those who suffer imnocently; I abhor cruel and unnatural actions; I am glad when good success relieves the afflicted. In fine, if any word or deed come in very pat and unexpectedly, I am highly ravished. These things I observe both please me in the reading or seeing, and afterwards I find myself great with desire, till I have discharged myself of them to some other, whom, I conceive, apt to take pleasure in such passages. In true Histories and News I am affected with a kind of sober satisfaction; and if I have heard or read half a story, I feel a want of content till I know the rest, and be fully possessed of the whole proceeding. As for homebred Curiosities, I cannot conceive what entertains our affections concerning them, except the common desire to know, which I imagine is greater towards those things whereof we have already a beginning; for so, I see, this Itch is pleased, chiefly, in the business of mine own acquaintance.  Light. 
And do you think that the common desire of Knowing is a Passion of so trivial a consequence? which peradventure (if all things were throughly looked into) would appear the chief or sole cause of all our pleasure: at least, it being the inclination of our understanding and reason, that is, the most substantial and principal part of us, it must necessarily have great influence upon all our actions. But besides this, I see another delight, which is a kind of tickling our affections, whereat they move and have their course, as strings tuned to certain notes answer one another. And this happens in all humane affairs; but chiefly in such as bear a particular relation to our own state and private circumstances. We hear not of any action done by another man, but it presently strikes a key in our breasts, either of pleasure or displeasure, because it has a proper and particular report to our condition.  
Now consider how small a time you can endure to sit ruminating on a business that no way concerns you; how impossible it is to take off your hearts from thoughts, wherein your interest or affections are notably engaged: and then reflect on the choice which in heaven you shall have, where (according to what is declared) the whole course of the sons of Adam shall be clear before your eyes, none of their actions or secretest thoughts hidden from you Think how one reflection will preoccupate another, how one delight will surcharge another. If you will see the Counsels of Statesmen and great Princes, there opens itself a Career aperte de vieu, as the French say. If you will see how Scholars came to their profound learning; how Artificers to their great experience: If you will see how petty fellows show as much cunning in a little circle, as the Grandees of the world in their deep and politic designs: If you will see the increase, as it were, of souls, from the babbling of children that know not how to spell their letters, to the learned Sermons and sublime Speculations of the most famous and renowned Masters: in every kind, an excess of examples, a world of particulars will display themselves to you; all different in some respects, yet all agreeing in general heads; all inviting and enticeing by their specialty; all contenting and satisfying, by showing their source in evident and common principles. Nor shall therebe, in the whole multitude, any one that shall not affect you with some particular relish and satisfaction, by its special conformity or difformity to your nature; for both these in that state shall yield content; as you see here we laugh and are delighted with that in another, whereat we should be ashamed and displeased, if it were in ourselves.  Soul. 
Truly, you tell me of a great content: but I have been taught that it is the propriety of Almighty God to see hearts; and that none else can penetrate into what passes there, but by revelation from him. Wherefore pray make me know what you mean when you say, No man's thoughts are hidden from the Blessed; for this, I hear, is grounded in the holy Scriptures, & so a dangerous matter to be meddled with.  Light. 
Those who consider not that the Scriptures are written to men, that is, to people living in a vale of ignorance and darkness, may, perhaps, too hastily pass their censure upon the City of Light, whereof we discourse. But, as far as I can understand them, there is not a word in our holy books excluding the heavenly Jerusalem from this-knowledge, and our Master's use to give a rule, that speeches are to be taken secundum subjectam materiam, according to the matter we treat of; for he that speaks is supposed to confine himself to the particular subject of the discourse he undertakes: nevertheless, you have not yet heard me say the celestial habitation enjoys this privilege without Revelation; for here I do not display the principles upon which their conclusions depend; but only declare to you (admitting such positions to be true) the excess of pleasure and content you are to reap in that harvest, if you cultivate your land in this world, as you are commanded.  Soul. 
Then I'll believe what you say without farther enquiry. For truly I see, that if the day of Judgement declare the justice of Almighty God, this cannot be done without full and general discovery of all hearts: and if then every secret thought shall be laid open before the whole world, me thinks 'tis no great matter the blessed should in joy the privilege of knowing them before. Besides, it would be an unhandsome maim both to their knowledge and content, if seeing the effects, they should be deprived of seeing the causes; which, for the most part, reside in the inward thoughts. And so have I fallen upon no small subject of delight to me, that I shall see the Motives and true Sources of all effects: a thing I observe much aimed at by men of sharpest understandings; whence 'tis that Historians are so desirous to dive into the secrets of affairs; those being accounted the best, who are thought most truly to have found the deepest ground and bottom of matters of great consequence.  Light. 
'Tis a good and ingenuous reflection. And, if you will take the pains to examine also the inconveniences which here you find in talking, reading, or fitting at a Play; peradventure by comparison of your pleasures below, you will make a fuller conceit of the content you shall meet above; finding there all the delights sincere and pure, without the mixture of those bitter and distasteful contingencies, which are so frequently offensive here.  Soul. 
I have not so ill and slowly followed you, but of myself I can understand that there I shall not have that incertitude of reports, which here we wholly rely upon, and yet they are generally so fallible, that it were a great indiscretion to believe above the tenth part of what is told us. Nay, even when I hear any strange relation from parties who were present, whose eyes and ears saw and heard what passed, yet am I often troubled how to understand their words; some for Interest and Passion, some for carelessness or ignorance, some because they think it a piece of wit to mend every thing they tell, so disguising and altering the truth, that it requires a sharp and steady sight to discern it. Now for reports, how easily they rise, upon what mistakes; how they are increased, going from hand to hand; with what assurance even those who are accounted the best intelligencers, will relate, and confidently stand upon them; our daily experience gives so full a satisfaction, that 'tis almost a folly to believe any thing certainly, till a common consent has taken away all doubt. And all these difficulties may, in a proportion, be applied to Histories; and perhaps, in some respect remain less answerable than the objections against living reports: so that I cannot but admire their levity, who dare with such security ground their judgements in matters of great consequence, upon the particular relations of some one or few Authors, though living and present.  
I see likewise I shall not be troubled with the dryness, the ill behaviour and importunity of such idle brains, as are generally the inventors of those News; nor be molested with impertinent discourses upon subjects of little moment in themselves, and less concernments to me, which often occur in the best Histories and Plays. Neither shall my body be diseased, my head heavy, mine eyes sore, my time overslipt, when business or rest calls upon me: all which are diminishing circumstances, I feel, continually checking my appetite towards these delights in this world: and I see (all these being taken away) there arises a pure, a high, an uninterrupted and never ending contemplatition, an abundant, a filling and overflowing delight. Now methinks, I begin to understand how the waters our Saviour promised the Samaritan, can prove an everlasting Fountain of joy and refreshment, perpetually springing to-eternall life. But yet I do not find I shall have those pleasures, that Plays and Romances aim at; which consist in passion, and unexpected Contrivances. Nay, methinks, both are impossible to that State, where neither Passion nor Ignorance have any place; and nothing can be unexpected but what we are ignorant of until it comes.  Light. 
True it is, you shall have no Passion; yet shall you not want the least delight, even That can afford. For Passion does not please of itself, but only so far as it increases our knowledge, or heightens our affections. Wherefore if the impression in the Soul be as great as Passion could make, you shall have all the pleasure That can procure. Now, unexpectedness moves us by that virtue which contraries, put near together, have, to increase and set off one another: such surprises being only a sudden joining of some accident unthought on, to what was formerly in full and quiet possession of our minds. For whilst our thoughts are wholly entertained and busily applied to any conceit, we least expect to see the contrary fall out.  
Now consider with yourself the passage you must make out of the body into the state of Eternity; how sudden, how quick, how truly indivisible it will be; so that whatever surprise can be imagined in this world, is dull and infinitely slower. Remember farther, that whatever settles in eternity, can never fade or change, so that how long soever you are out of the body, all things shall be as fresh and new to you the last day as the first. Conceit then what an unexpectedness, what a perpetual newness shall be in all you know; what an extreme difference betwixt the conceits of them before, and those you shall be endued with in that happy condition. An able and judicious person was wont to compare this change with our going into a Court-mask; when out of a darksome Gallery, pestered with crowding, noise and confusion, by the short turn of a wheel, in the twinkling of an eye, we are translated, as it were, into a paradise of glorious light, attracting spectacles and heavenly company.  Soul. 
I see there will be no good thing wanting, that can increase and heighten our pleasures; but that only (in short) which would diminish and abate the great delights God hath created us for; so that you need tell me no more of this point, for I am fully satisfied, and apprehensive of the vast joys I shall derive out of this subject.  Light. 
You must rise yet a little higher, and set yourself to contemplate those great Mysteries which have blinded the sharpest sights, and puzzled the subtlest wits of the world. Mysteries that dazzled the eyes of S. Paul, and struck his heart with wonder and astonishment, whilst he stands admiring the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God. Think with yourself that the Abysses of God's judgement shall be laid open to your discovery; the fates and destinies of Men and Angels: why Jacob elected and Esau a reprobate, before either of them had done or good or evil; why Pharaoh obdurate and Moses made his God; why S. Peter head of the Church and Judas a Devil; seeing it was in the power of the Almighty to have disposed quite contrary of their fortunes, or brought them all to felicity. But far more content will you receive, to see why the only seed of Abraham for thousands of years were the Elect people of God; the rest of the nations all in heaps tumbling into eternal misery: Why, even since the Gospel, so many and great Nations are enwrapped in no less darkness and dismal unhappiness for ever: How all this can stand with God's infinite Goodness and Mercy: Why he does not rather extinguish and annihilate the unfortunate Angels and Men, then reserve them to such extremity of torments. Certainly, though all these secret mysterious effects are of so high a nature, that we cannot reach their causes and true Motives; (for who is able to be the counsellor of Almighty God in the fabric & disposure of the world?) yet may we arrive at this conclusion, that of necessity there must be reasons for all: Else what more unreasonable, then to imagine that Almighty God (who is Reason itself, essential Understanding, and absolute Omniscience) does these great things without reason? What more absurd then to say, that (whereas all upright men's wills are governed by reason) God's will (which is the Author, the Exemplar and Rule of our wills) is blind and wilful? What more extravagant then to think that the will, which cannot swerve from doing the best, should work without a best? In fine, what lameness were it in Almighty God, to have his will more ample than his understanding could direct? Reason's therefore there are: and when you come to lay your mouth to the spring of eternal truth, there shall you suck in these ineffable Mysteries; there shall you see how from the essential goodness and the impossibility of swerving from it, the world and all the variety of Creatures inevitably flow; there shall you behold how by the infallible manuduction of Reason, every particular is digested and ordered; how by a constant line of succession, the descent of effects from causes draws out this long Play, that has so many Ages been acting upon the stage of this world; there you shall discern the golden threads, whereby the just retrieve themselves out of the Labyrinth of sinners; you shall penetrate the Adamantine chain, with which the wicked are confined to eternal flames. In all you shall see the glorious Liberty casting out its Rays: in God and his Saints strengthened with an undeceivable force of Light; in the ways of Men struggling in a perpetual Agony with contingency and servitude, except where in few souls the supernal light more and more hinders the instability of its estate.   

The seventh discourse.  Soul. 
TEll me no more of these great pleasures, for I feel myself already full. I can endure no longer. I pant for breath, and languish through excessive heat of desire. I doubt not henceforth but the state of eternal Bliss contains far more and higher joys than ever entered into mortal hearts to conceive. Nor fear I whensoever I enter this great field, but for ever to find a most pleasant and delightful feeding, and eternally drink of the torrent which inebriates the City of God.  Light. 
You are too tender: Remember that the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent only can be Masters of it. You must look for a strong Purgatory of love and desire, if you walk this way, you must not give over without resisting, even to blood. As yet you are scarce got out of the Circle of Man; 'tis time now to cast your eyes on the rest of this glorious frame we call the World, and see what pleasure it affords. It is the whole, whereof mankind is but a little, though a principal Part. It is a thing in a manner above us, in a manner our end. If our understanding be but a hunger of truth, and truth but the perfect possession of a thing without us; you see this great machine the world, is a principal end to which nature has designed our application. And truly, when we reflect that the universal Mass of Being's is the most full expression of Almighty God's Essence, which nature can attain to; what doubt remains, but that our felicity, in a notable degree, consists in the perfect contemplation and knowledge of it?  Soul. 
This I easily believe: For when I have the good fortune to hear a strange discovery of some secret of nature, such as Philosophers and Astronomers use to look into; I cannot understand the joy I feel in mine heart. 'Tis not of that kind which I have when I laugh, and am taken with some witty conceit. 'Tis not such, as when I encounter any welcome news of some advantage to myself or friends: but of a higher strain mixed with admiration: methinks I am better and greater than I was before: methinks, they who know these things are more than men, and are a kind of Demigods. And I observe that Poets and persons of great brain and capacity (having spent their youth in vain and worldly pursuits) desire, ordinarily, to consecrate their riper years to these Sciences.  Light. 
Reflect then upon the wonders which are stored up in Nature for your content. Place before your eyes the admirable government of this great Fabric, the World. Consider the courses of the Sun, Moon, Planets, and fixed Stars, and hope one day to know what causes and wheels they turn upon. See the Globe of the Earth, and Men heels to heels walking round about it, without any nails or glue to fasten them to it, yet how laborious it is to remove from it. Really, the serious consideration of the Antipodes renders the mystery so strange and hard to be believed, that, though we are assured by experience of the truth, yet if we should always strongly imagine ourselves so walking, we could not but fear, still, falling into the Clouds, when we travailed to one another. See the perpetual floating of the Sea, like a monthly or yearly Clock, warning us of the seasons, with as great exactness as do the Moon and Stars. See the various Climes, with all their affections. The bounds of Seas and Lands. The difference of temperature in the same proportions to the Sun. The diversity of Beasts, Birds, Fishes, and Plants, according to the variety of their habitations. Men themselves, here black, there white, in some parts tawny, some red: and their very Wills and Affections following the temperament of their bodily qualities.  
When you are weary of these wonders, look into particular Natures. The mixture of Metals and Stones. How Juices and Liquids penetrate all, and, incorporating themselves, frame these strange multiplicities of things we converse with. Plants more wondrous than these: who can choose but be delighted to see a little Flower or Meal hidden in the earth, and peep out again? now green, then take body and strength, disperse itself into branches, bud forth leaves, and flowers, and fruit, and at last other such bags of Meal as itself was. Yet Living creatures are furnished with a far greater plenty of wonders. The Worms, the Flies, the Birds, the Beasts, the Fishes, every one affording a world of admiration and variety.  
But above all, MAN the End and Master of all, is a subject of amazing contemplation. Who would not think a life spent in delight, to understand what composition that should be, which, turned into blood, becomes first one part of a heart, afterwards a whole heart? what should make it spring and shoot out into other vital parts? how can a poor heart frame such a variety of Members as are necessary to the perfect body of a man? What should set two Arms, two Legs, two Eyes, just such a number of Fingers and Toes upon every man? so many different parts, so various in their Nature, Figures, Use and Service, and all these to agree together; and Man, composed of all, to keep so long in tune and harmony? the deeper we go, the greater's the admiration, though the words fewer. But what astonishment will it be to discover the subtle nets wherewith Power and Act (as Metaphysicians call them) are forbidden parting, to penetrate the divisibility of substance itself? to sing the loves of Matter and Form; and see how by the Influence of the Overflowing Being, they become the Basis and Foundation of this fair Pageant? Shall I seek into the rational Soul? and see the union of the two worlds? or search the Conduits and passages by which knowledge is conveyed through the Body to the Spirit? How the beating of divers weights and figures upon our senses, can beget the skill of knowing all things? Shall I ask why the Spirit, being subsistent within our limbs, seems dead or asleep, and can do nothing but by the impression it receives from the body?  
But what will it be to make this an occasion of passing into the next world, there to contemplate the state of so many separated souls, all different, yet all like one another? then, still to mount up higher to the never-bodied Spirits, and see their Being, their Natures, their Operations, their Quires, their Hierarchies? And now there is but one great step more, to behold the influence of the Divinity upon all, and in all manners; but in none so great and admirable, as in showing its self, its Face, its Essence to the blessed Spirits. That Blessing, that Adoption, that Deification, as it is the most wonderful of all God's works, so will it be strangely ravishing to behold in others, as well as feel in ourselves.  Soul. 
I have not the least scruple but that these delights are far beyond all you have hitherto mentioned; they clearly deserving that estimation and rank, by the Excellence and Nobility of the Objects, and the pleasure which I feel even in the meanest of them; for those I confess most affect me, as being most suitable to my low and heavy disposition.  Light. 
So 'tis with you for the present; but, if much and solid contemplation make you able to manage this point, you will in time experience that even here these sublime things overdraw all others. Look upon the pains a Democritus, an Archimedes, a Plato and other Philosophers have taken, to know the lowest of Truths. The first is said to have put out his eyes, that he might contemplate the better. The second to have been so absorbed, that he suffered death for not taking notice of the danger before him. The third to have travailed through all parts, where he could hear of learned men, to be their Scholar. Another to have lived in the fields two and twenty years, to discover the customs and operations of Bees. Think you not these excellent wits found great pleasure in their contemplations? who was ever moved to so difficult undertake, by any worldly design? As for your Alexanders and Caesar's, if their lives be well looked into, they had many collateral respects, and by-invitements; always conversing amongst multitudes of men, who crying up their conquests, as actions of immortal fame, still encouraged them to go on and finish their triumphs.  Soul. 
When time and experience shall have increased my force, I shall be able (I hope) to grapple with these motives. But in the mean while is there nothing in these secrets of Nature which may touch myself, and so make me more quick and sensible of the pleasures thereof?  Light. 
If it so little move you, that this knowledge is the proper mark at which your nature aims; at least consider that the knowledge of yourself is a special part of it: and if you believe you are concerned in yourself, if delighted with your own parts and perfections, you shall not want cause of content. What would you have? would you be the Centre of this great Circumference? would you have nothing done, but you should have a share in't? If no less will satisfy you, let's see how much is true of this. What think you? are any two things exactly like one another?  Soul. 
Peradventure yes, I conceive it no paradox to believe so.  Light. 
Then they would be in the same place, have the same figure, etc. whereby they would be the same, and not alike.  Soul. 
That's true I confess; therefore no two things are absolutely alike.  Light. 
Can two things in any respect unlike one another, proceed from the same causes in no respect differing from one another?  Soul. 
Certainly they cannot: for wherein they vary, there must necessarily be some cause of their dissimilitude; but the same causes still work the same: therefore the causes must some way be different, if there be difference in the effects.  Light. 
This is well. Then you and all the circumstances had not been the same, if any one of the causes, which concurred to the making of them, had been altered in any thing concerning your making.  Soul. 
That's very true.  Light. 
Then cast with yourself what part of Nature you draw with you, of all that passed before you.  Soul. 
I see well that neither the causes immediately concurring to the making of me, nor any that concurred to the making of them such as they ought necessarily to be for the making of me, could from the beginning of the world to this hour, be other than they have been, if I were to be what I am. But how far this extends itself I do not clearly see.  Light. 
Look well into the causes of your body: Do you think the Air contributes nothing?  Soul. 
Yes certainly: for it piercing all tender bodies by Perspiration, must of necessity alter much the disposition of either Man or Child, if itself be different.  Light. 
And if the very next Air to that which enters into your body be different, can that which enters be the same?  Soul. 
Clearly it cannot; for the next part, in so fluid and penetrable a body, must of necessity have great Influence into that which pierces my Body.  Light. 
And how far reaches this operation?  Soul. 
Marry in this way, going from one to another and still arguing, If the next be altered this cannot be the same, I see no stop as far as the Air or any other such penetrable Body extends itself; but the same consequence must be applied to the whole.  Light. 
You have forgotten your agreement with me in this point, that the Air contributes to the bodies which are in it; else you would easily have seen that all which communicate in the same Air, must be changed, if any the least thing in you were altered.  Soul. 
Then if it be true, what I see Astronomers now almost consent in, that there are no Spheres, but a continual Air or other subtle body runs through the whole frame of Nature; all bodies that are must be altered for the alteration of any one, unless Almighty God, or some other Spirit, by a particular and extraordinary interposure, make an unexpected and preternatural change in some one or more of them.  Light. 
You are in the right: but do you reflect upon the consequence, that nothing created before you could be otherwise, if you were to be what you are; nor any thing following you could become what it is to be, were not you what you are? So that you shall find yourself a partial cause of all, either before or after you.  Soul. 
'Tis easy to conceive I may be cause of what comes after me, because when once I have a being, I can work, and some effects may flow from me: but before I myself am, how can I be cause of any thing?  Light. 
Do you not know that God creates nothing, but he foresees and fore-wills all the good which is to follow upon such a production, and makes it with design, that such good may proceed from't? Whence you may safely conclude, that he intended you out of all that went before you: and you are not ignorant that among the four kinds of Causes, the final, or good intended is the chief and principal; so that you are more the cause of what's past, then of what's to come.   

The eighth discourse.  Soul. 
THough I know not what to answer to your Discourse; nay, though it seem clear and evident; yet the strangeness, and even incrediblenesse of the Conclusion, makes me distrust mine own understanding. But, is it possible that all these great knowledges shall fall to my share, if I come to Heaven?  Light. 
Why should you fear the less, if you be sure of the greater? Do you, peradventure, doubt whether you shall be partaker of the sight of God? and yet this is so far beyond all we have hitherto spoken of, that there is no comparison between them; not so much as of a drop of water to the whole Sea.  Soul. 
How can this be? since God is but one indivisible Essence, and in what you have declared, there is an infinity of most worthy and ravishing Objects. For though I doubt not but the sight of God exceeds far the sight of any one, his perfections infinitely surpassing all; yet methinks, when there is nothing else to be done for ever, but to see the one and the other, the variety carries so high an advantage, in respect of taking delight in knowledge, that there needs a vast excess in any single object to counterpoise it.  Light. 
Your own words convince you: for admit that God exceeds any one object (compared with him, as to the pleasure of seeing,) infinitely, that is, to the proportion of his worth and dignity; you, by the same reason, conclude him preferable to two or three; and so to any number, that is, to all. However, I shall rather apply myself to give you content in your demand, then press you severely with your own argument. First then, consider, if there were a colour or beauty of so high a degree, that our eye were not capable to see it without the assistance of some newfound spectacle; and this, not for the littleness or distance of the Object, but because the purity of the light or excellency of the colour was so striking and glorious, that an eye of this composure would be blinded with the lustre of its brightness: do you not conceive the sight of so radiant a splendour would be nobler than the view we have of our ordinary world? and this in the proportion that the Eye improved and fortified with the new spectacle, is better and nobler than of its own single nature.  Soul. 
So far I can espy no way to escape your reason: for if both Eye and Object be heightened in a proportion, the very seeing, and by consequence the pleasure taken in it, must of necessity rise in the same degree, or I have lost my understanding.  Light. 
Then ponder what I'm sure you have been often taught, that the sight of God is so great, so sublime an operation, that it exceeds the power of all celestial spirits; not only such as are, but even all that can be made, and the whole campasse of creatures and whatsoever is not God. Consider now how full and overflowing a measure of delight must necessarily follow upon these premises; I believe you'll find it no less than I speak of.  Soul. 
What may be the reason of this incredible excess? though I'm a fool to ask a question you have already so fully answered, by resolving it into the infinite beauty of Almighty God, whose perfections are beyond all comparison.  Light. 
In the beginning I bargained with you not to expect the causes of things in this discourse, but the effects, that is, what pleasure arises out of them, upon supposition of their truth. Yet if you understand the excess of a Spirit above Bodies and their gross parts, conceive that God so exceeds a Spirit, as that is more excellent than a Body: I mean not in equality of proportion, but I would only express that their excellencies are clear of a different kind; so that there is no comparison of worths between them, but the supereminent dignity of one so far surpasses the other, that in respect of the first the second is no ways estimable. A more particular account you may make yourself at your leisure, by reflecting that our apprehension of things has three degrees: some we conceive as compounded, others as simple; and one only thing, which we call Being, has a different nature, in our very language and understanding from all the rest. Now our Masters put Almighty God in the degree of Being alone and by himself. If you could throughly penetrate these three manners of apprehending, it would be a great advance toward the knowledge you desire. For the present let me acquaint you with this observation, that many great Clerks and studied Sages have so much esteemed this Notion, that they feared not to pronounce Almighty God absolutely invisible to any created understanding, and inhabiting a light by no power accessible.  
But herein the goodness of God has exceeded the wit of Man, and found a means to communicate himself to our Souls. Wherefore, wiser are our Masters of Mystical Divinity, who acknowledge the gracious happiness of the next life, though here they find themselves silenced. For when by long speculation they have heaped up all these great Titles of Being, Goodness, Truth, Eternity, Immensity, Omnipotence, Infiniteness, and whatever else we find attributed to the Deity; after they have some little while exulted in that height, reflecting upon what they are pleased withal, suddenly they turn the leaf, and with a more high Ignorance acknowledge he is none of all these; but an unknown Nobility, whereof all these are so poor and deficient an expression, that they are ashamed of what they had said, and now rest in a mute admration; not finding words wherewith to express the thing, which they only can attain to by confessing themselves totally ignorant of it.  
And this is not only true in respect of Men, but even of Angels; whose languages if we could speak, that is, were our apprehensions and conceits as high and great as any of theirs, yet would it not profit us, because not necessarily conjoined with Charity. However, even their languages exceed our short capacities, and are not to be expressed with the tongues of Men: which seems the cause why Saint Paul (who was made partaker of their knowledge, though short of the sight of the face of God) said, he had heard words of secret that were not in the power of Man to speak: for so (as I take it) the Original Text bears, and not that it was unlawful; since, what Law was made against speaking that which we have heard? unless we participate of the first Error, conceiving God through envy to hide Mysteries & great knowledges from us. It was not then unlawful, but impossible to declare what was revealed to Saint Paul; no words of Man being capable to express the conceits of an abstracted Intelligence, amongst whom he then conversed.  Soul. 
You seem to drive me farther off from relishing this which you exalted as the most eminent pleasure of all others. For if you afford me no other conceit of it, then of an unapprehensible Light, of a mysterious Darkness, and a learned Ignorance, I know not how to fasten any Arms of love or liking upon it. Therefore I beseech you oblige me with some explication of this difficulty, in such an intelligible way, as may feed and encourage my desire to see that Glory of Glories.  Light. 
What shall I say to you? If you can fix your eyes upon what Being is; how, although but one, yet it runs through all that is in the world; how not only things and parts of things, but even the most dilated and thin conceits of every thing have this Nature, as necessarily as the fullest: then think Almighty God is the first root and necessity of Being. He is Being itself, in itself, and of itself, because it is its self. I must leave the rest to your quiet contemplations; but know that in these few words, if you ponder them to their just merit, you shall find life and bliss. Yet let me say one thing more: Can you conceive how in a Bean or Acorn, or a Mustardseed, lies the Herb or Tree which we see spring out of them? how every Branch, and Flower, and Knot, and what ever else is in the Offspring, lies hidden in the Seed; not that every part is distinct there, but the nature of the Seed is such, that out of it they have their ordinary proceeding and sprouting without fail? From this low and familiar instance, if you can raise your fancy to conceive that Almighty God is to all that can be or ever was, as this Seed to that which comes of it, (not in the dull manner wherein the Seed is considered, in reference to what springs from it, but) in all sorts of principal and noble causality: than you have made some little entrance into the displaying of this unspeakable treasure.  Soul. 
This example has a little awakened my brains, and given me a hint how great secrets may be hidden in one uniform and simple thing; but I wish you would be pleased to go on, & help my dulness to understand it better.  Light. 
Have you read any of the Spiritual books which treat of God's Attributes, and show his Essence, his Infinity, his Truth, his Goodness, his Eternity, his Immensity, his Providence, his Mercy, his Justice, his Knowledge and Ideas and what ever else fills up those high Discourses? Have you seen the volumes by which Divines strive to declare those three Mysterious Words, FATHER, SON and HOLY GHOST; so plain, and yet so high; so simply delivered in our Creed, and so laboriously commented upon by all the most prodigigious Wits of almost sixteen Ages?  Soul. 
I have to my proportion, had a view of most of those Treatises you mention, and imagine your design is, to inform me, that this Indivisible Essence we call GOD, contains in it sublime Mysteries, sufficient to satisfy any mind that is contented here with these Discourses, which learned Doctors frame of God. But all this avoids not the Objection, that he is an Indivisible Essence, when seen in himself, and consequently can give but one contentment, though that be very high and excessively delightful.  Light. 
You are not much amiss in my aim: but you cannot deny that the entire cause of that pleasure which all these books afford, is in that Indivisible Being you shall contemplate. For besides that it is the same thing, the one only subject of all those Books; and that clearly discovered, which humane skill can but weakly express under vails and shadows; you shall see how this one indivisible sight is variously dispersed and articulated, in all those admirable Truths which fill those immense volumes: so that on one side you shall behold the Indivisible Truth, on the other the Multitude we make of it, and thirdly, how that Indivisible contains all this Multitude: which in effect makes appear to you, that this Indivisible Essence you had such fear to be cloyed with, contains large volumes, and corresponds to all the Libraries in the World, and far exceeds them. Nay, if you reflect upon what we were discoursing by accident concerning the languages of Angels; and if there be, as some imagine, Corporeal Rational Creatures in other Globes besides the Earth, which have new manners of apprehending and expressing, different from us; you shall find in this Indivisible Essence, whole volumes to entertain and satiate, with innumerable contemplations, all these varieties of noble understandings.  Soul. 
I now see that if a thousand Millions of writers, for a thousand times as many years, should employ their whole studies to drain the cognoscibility and pleasure the Indivisible Deity yields, it were absolutely impossible they should in the least measure exhaust it. So that if I achieve that happy enterprise, if I once enter into that blessed State, I fear not to be overflown with a flood of content, pure, beyond all content, refreshing my heart with perpetual delight for all eternity.  Light. 
Since we are come so far together, I must not leave you here, without proceeding to declare one quality more of this blissful Vision. Did you never observe, when some hard business has been explicated, according as you understood it or not, you would say, you had it or had it not?  Soul. 
I have often felt such a thought pass within me, but what do you infer from thence?  Light. 
Not so quick, you must take along with you this notion likewise; Our Masters tell us, that the Soul by knowledge becomes the thing known: as if it knew a House, it becomes a House; if an Ox or Horse, it becomes that Creature; Not by its being turned into the Object, but by the assumption of the Object into its self: as the Wall, when the Sun shines on't, becomes the light, Iron in the fire becomes red. And that which persuades them to this opinion is, they see Water or Iron, when heated with Fire, will warm or burn, and have the effects of the assumed Nature; and that universally, nothing hath the particular operation of a thing, but it's own Nature. Wherefore finding that the workman, who knows and has the Idea of a house, can make a house; that as far as we know of a Dog or Horse, so far we can humour them, and work according to their Natures: they assure themselves, that knowledge is a kind of having or being the thing we know. Our Divines go farther, and tell us, Almighty God cannot be clearly known by similitude; and therefore say, 'tis necessary this Essence should be immediately joined to the understanding of the blessed souls, or else they cannot know him. Out of all which I would derive to your understanding this great truth, That the sight of God is a full possession of him, a kind of becoming his nature, and a true and real, though accidental, Deification. Wherefore if you have any esteem of Almighty God, and Charity towards him, if any love to yourself, any desire to be noble and excellent beyond all others, if any consideration and rationality in you, fly at this great Quarry, run for this glorious Prize, fight for this incomparable Crown. Fear nothing, only ruminate seriously upon it; do but heartily desire it, and long after it; do but wish it, and you cannot fail; it cannot escape you, but of itself will stoop to your lure and hand.   

The ninth discourse.  Soul. 
I Can better with a deep thought and silent recollection, imprint upon my mind these glorious truths you have discovered to me, then by words express how sensible I am of the charming contents they afford. Now I see you have led me by degrees through all the pleasures of the mind, from the most familiar and lowest, to those of so high a pitch, that they exceed the apprehension of Men and Angels. I know not what remains, but to inquire, since our Bodies shall be partakers of happiness with the Soul, whether it shall have any proper pleasure of sense, as it seems to have in this world.  Light. 
Well said you, as it seems to have; for really it has none: all motions which appear in beasts so orderly that they make a show of proceeding from some degree of reason, being only the quavering of certain aerial or watery parts of the body, so ordained by Nature, as to be the beginnings of helping itself in its wants. Now we, out of our experience of ourselves, conceit they pass with knowledge in them, as we find they do in us. But marking ourselves well, we shall easily perceive that in Beasts all those motions may be without any true knowledge: For if we observe our groaning in diseases, we shall experience that it is but the course of our breath, which coming forcedly, by reason of some restraint within, sends forth that sad unmusicall noise, as it would do out of a Pipe so made as our bodies are in that case. By the same Instrument is performed the expression of Joy, though tuned to another key; and every passion causing some variety in our interior Organs, is the reason that our natural expressions are divers; which clearly discovers the hypocritical ambition of such as profess to understand the language of Birds, that truly is none at all. If then we consider our body abstractedly; as there is no knowledge in it, but only a course of windy and watery substances shut up in conduits and cases, so there is no pleasure nor grief, but all depends upon the mind, and is entirely derived from it, even then when the body so impetuously & irresistably seems to oppress us.  Soul. 
But at least, shall the Soul then participate by the Body such pleasures, as now she does by her senses? Neither do I ask this out of any strong desire I have of them; for your discourse hath weaned me from that, by demonstrating such excessive store of far more delicious entertainments: but only led on by a curiosity, to know what shall betid us in that happy Kingdom.  Light. 
I am glad to see you so reasonable; and therefore propose you only one question, Whether you think it fit any thing should be in that blessed state, which might bring trouble and disturbance to its rest and peace?  Soul. 
Nothing is more assured than that whatever is interruptive of joy, aught to be banished from so great a felicity.  Light. 
Then go along with me in one observation more; and remember that all sensitive pleasures are troublesome and importune, unless the body be in a certain disposition when such delights are seasonable: as to one whose stomach is full, not only the taste, but even the very smell of meat is nauseous. Which single instance, if particularly looked into and improved to the uttermost, will sufficiently establish this conclusion, that no corporeal pleasure is good to Man or Beast, but in some want or distress in the Body; when either 'tis too full, and would discharge some oppressed part, or too empty, and demands something to fill it.  Soul. 
All this I agree to, in pleasures of the taste and touch, and peradventure, of smelling, which seems to have great affinity with our taste: but how it should hold in recreations and delights conveyed to us by hearing and seeing, I do not perceive.  Light. 
Seeing in generally in order to knowledge; and so the pleasure, principally and purely, of the mind, not of the body: But for hearing, 'tis evident enough that is so, even by the sole experience of music; which we plainly feel inclines us to sadness or mirth, according to its quality. Who has not heard that it discharges the venom of the Tarantula in Apulia? And by what virtue think we, is this strange wonder wrought, but that music is to our inward, as dancing or running to our outward parts? And as Nature stirs up all young things, Boys, and Lambs, and Kitlin, to play and run about, by which they disperse the cloggy humours that otherwise would settle in their joints: so Music strikes our inward aerial parts into a quick and active motion, which discharges them of their grosser humours, and purges all into a sprightliness, as rivers clear themselves by running, and winds by the swiftness of their flying. For we feel, if we mark it, the sensible strokes of a Lute or Bandora beat the same measure in our Breasts, as if the strings of our Heart and of the Instrument were both Unisons: and certainly there is some substance there able to receive the impression; as we see the Air and Water do of such things as have any quick motion in them. So that the sound of music is sweet to us, because the tremble it makes in our ear is agreeable to our Body; but if you take away that proportion, by which such a shake or motion is fit for us, Music itself would be ungrateful. Wherefore if we conceive our Body shall be in the most happy and excellent disposition it can be put into, and that all Motion must, of necessity, alter it from that temperament, and by consequence, change it into a worse: we see that state is not a state of Motion, but of Rest; and that all Motion and alteration will be displeasure to our body. To which if you join this reason, that all corporeal action is either Motion, or performed by it; you may conclude there can no pleasure hereafter flow from Motion, nor pass through our senses, all whose operations depend upon it.  Soul. 
Then is all corporeal pleasure to be left with this world?  Light. 
When you come into the other, or rather, after the Great Day, your body shall be enriched with all perfections its nature is capable of; your soul with universal and almost infinite knowledge. If still you desire any farther pleasures, you shall have both skill and means to apply them to yourself. And as for Music, whose delight consists in the variety and connexion of proportions, those your understanding shall participate more perfectly than any sense can afford; and this in a high and noble manner of operation, without the dull and slow assistance of ears, to convey their impression to your mind. Can you wish for more?  Soul. 
Not only my utmost wishes, but even my curiosity remains fully satisfied. For other qualities of our body, I have been taught we shall enjoy eternally all that can be desired; a Strength irresistible; an Agility so swift and active, that the Soul cannot sooner command than the Body obey; a Health firm and constant, which nothing can either diminish or endanger; lastly, a Beauty, now no beauty, but pure Light and Glory.  Light. 
You are in the right; and I am very glad to observe your affection to that happy state, from the kindness of your expressions concerning it: only, as for beauty, of which some are particularly curious, I shall propose this speculation; It may be so comprised in a general symmetry of the body, that nevertheless every individual person may enjoy such a singular and special temperament, as shall be a degree of best; the joys of the soul darting their beams and diffusing their influences throughout the very body, and rendering it the most lovely and desirable sight that can be imagined.  
And now, having driven our discourse up to this height, that we are come within the view of heaven itself: what remains but burning desires, perpetual thoughts of, and a dwelling (even whilst we are here) in our conceived happiness above? which only to understand and desire, is to gain, and for ever possess. But if neither external Felicities can allure us, nor everlasting Miseries fright us into our evident duty: what shall we answer at that Great Day, if we find ourselves upon the wrong hand? What pretence can we offer to be placed on the right? What excuse can we allege against the dreadful Nescio Vos? Wherefore to avoid that unhappy separation, to prevent that irrevocable banishment from our dear JESUS; let us make ourselves familiar with him here, who by a thousand favours solicits our love, and by a thousand titles deserves our service; having spent His age, and shed His precious blood, to redeem us from sin, and draw us to himself; to deliver us from the bondage of Satan, and bring us to His own Kingdom, rewarding us with the Crowns and Sceptres of Eternity: To whom be given all possible honour and glory from all things, for all things, and in all things. Amen.  
FINIS.    

AN EXERCISE OF LOVE, WITH A DESCANT ON THE Prayer in the GARDEN;  
By the same Author.  S. Ign. ad Rom. 
Amor meus Crucifixus est.  
AT PARIS, Printed in the YEAR 1654.   

TO THE Right HONOURABLE, THE Lady SOMERSET.  
MADAM,  
AS your Commands have been able to strain all the Sinews of my Soul into a quick and faithful Obedience: So, had they the power to imbue it with that gentle softness and tender Devotion, whence themselves proceeded, this my Pen had bled out the sweetest pangs that ever swelled the Breast of any Seraphin. But finding my Heartstrings too cough and restiff for pliance to such delicious charms; they leave a necessity on me to beseech your cautious perusal of these Lines, wherein the jarring discords of my confused apprehensions, and rugged expressions may otherwise prove too offensive to the harmony of so equal, so well tuned a Soul: in which I can complain of this only fault, Your imposing so strong and weighty a task upon so slight, so weak, though,  
MADAM, Your Honour's most perfectly subjected Servant, Tho: White. Paris, 9 Sept. 1653.   

AN EXERCISE OF LOVE.  
PErmit me, my Lord, my God, to confess to thee thy Mercies, and repeat in thy presence thy infinite Bounties, that I may love and honour and praise Thee, with my whole heart and forces. Let me remember how from all Eternity I was nothing, till by thy order I sprung up a tender Imp and bud, testifying my Origin by my weakness and inability to help myself. Nor did my Father or Mother (those kind instruments, to whom thou wouldst have me beholding for my Being) know or intend me, when they served thee to make me: but thou, before all time, hadst (among millions rejected) named me and signed my happy lot, whilst I lay sleeping in my nothingness and unbeing. What couldst thou see in me, dread Lord, that might move thy will to select me from that Mass of nonentity? Peradventure, did I love Thee? Alas, I who was not, what could I love? yet if I could have loved, surely, nothing less than Thee, who wast most contrary to my Nullity. But though I was not, to love Thee, Thou wast, who couldst love me; and love me as I was, not able to love Thee, nor yet any thing else: for I cannot love but what is, and by its amiableness produces a liking in me. How miserable then were I, if Thou lov'dst not me, till I could afford something that might please Thee! But thou didst love me, when I could not love Thee; and sealedst Thy love, stamping Thine Own Image on my face: on the face of my Soul first, giving me a power to love Thee; and consequently on my Body, as 'tis fitted to such a Soul. The Marks of thy bounty are no less than all I am and have. Ah, wretched I! that continually wear about me all those Tokens of thy kindness, and yet not love Thee: and yet fear, that perhaps Thou lov'st not me. Dear Lord, make me love Thee, that I may not fear Thou lov'st not me: for, True love knows not what it is to fear.  
But, Thou art not content to have made me of Nothing: if thou hadst not surrounded me with innumerable Helps; and created, as it were, the whole World, for me; If the Air and Fire did not afford me breath and warmth; the Land and Sea with their infinite Issue, variety of food and clothing: and these, not what confines with my place of residence, but even from their utmost bounds. If I look upon my Table; I see Fish from the Frozen Zone, Sugar from the Torrid, and Spices from the East and the West. If on my Attire; the Profundities of the Earth and Water, the Longitude and Latitude of Man's Habitation meet all in me, as in a Centre, to bestow their Rarities upon me. O Great God who set the multitudes of unhappy Creatures, buried in the bowels of Metallick Hills, and consumed in the Marshes of Brasil, to labour for me? Who commands the Seamen to burn under the Equator, and freeze by the Poles, to replenish me with Dainties? Who ordained Kings and Potentates, Counsellors and Soldiers to beat their brains, forget their sleep, and hazard their lives, to produce me Quiet and Abundance? Not they themselves, who for the most part are carried with vile and wretched appetites to pursue unworthy ends, neither knowing nor dreaming of me: but only Thou, my Lord and God, who marshallest Heaven and Earth for those thou art pleased to bless; who heapest thy favours on a generation of dull stupid Creatures, that can receive all thy gifts without returning the least love to the Giver; that live and move and have their being from Thee, & never so much as acknowledge thy Bounty. Why permittest Thou so unsufferable ingratitude? Why dost Thou not either suspend thy mercies, or make us more sensible of our duties? From this hour, Dear Lord, let not my hand touch a bit of bread without a thankful lifting up to the Feeder: let me not put on a rag without bending my heart, and tuning its strings to the love of him, by whom I am rendered the But and Scope of the whole World's government.  
What shall I say to Thee, my heart-o'rewhelming Love, when I consider how many millions are swallowed in eternal perdition, whilst I am one of that small number▪ Thou hast brought to the light and height of knowing Thee, and finding the narrow path to salvation? That Thou art not unjust I easily see; for all is thine, and in thy hand to give and dispose according to thy liberality; to which he, where Thou extendst it not, can pretend no claim, having more already to thank Thee for then he is able to esteem. But why then didst Thou set set thine Eye upon me, preferring this wretch before so many thousands? Was I nobler or more excellent than they? O no: Angels and Hosts of heaven, whose Being or Nature I am not able to apprehend, lie chained in Sulphur and darkness. Was my Wit or Parts beyond others? O no: the Sages of India and the subtle Riddlers of the East were ignorant of thy Law; and perished in their Ignorance. Was I mightier or richer than they? O no: the Conquerors of Kingdoms and the Giants, powerful in war, were not chosen by Thee: much less the Sons of Agar, the Merchants, that traverse the world to purchase treasure, and heap up the wealth of Nations, were called to thy light. Let me sound as deep as I can; nothing but thy self-Goodnesse, Wisdom and Power, without the least preceding disposition in me, can I find to be the source and spring of all this advantage, O My Soul! What dost expect, if this be not enough to set thee on fire? yet, look but about thee, and behold a farther endearment. See thine own Country; thy Neighbours, Acquaintance, thy Kindred and Friends: how many mayst thou observe, in all degrees, more worthy of acceptation, than thou; yet they neglected, and Mercy indulged thee? think but on those, whose good nature and innocent life makes thyself many times compassionately grieve at their unhappiness, and desiring to be the means of bringing them to that great good, wherein thou art a sharer; and reflect that former Ages and the vast spaciousness of the Earth afford many millions of such: yet, all permitted to undo themselves, and run upon their everlasting ruin. Consider this strange partiality of mercy. And yet, thou canst doubt, yet thou canst say, Were I sure of God's love.  
But, why did I ask whether I was better than others? so, deserving preferrence; since I have or can have no good, but from Thee? Could I pre-ordain myself to be born of Christian and Catholic Parents, who should take care to incorporate me into the Family of the Heirs of Bliss by the Sacraments, instituted and afforded by Thee? Might I be the cause why my Mother & Nurses fed me as soon with wholesome Doctrine as with their Milk? why they prepared Priests & Masters to guide & frame my tender Age? was't I that led me to a liking of the true Religion, that only Path of Heaven? or brought I myself to believe and hope in Thee; to love Thee, and those Rewards thou hast prepared for them that follow thee? No, no, dear and dread Providence; Thou art our Alpha and Omega. If I do any Good, Thou providest and fittest the means for it; if I abstain from Evil, Thou divert'st the Occasions, Thou presentest awing Fears, and shak'st perpetually the Bridle over my head, that I may not be lawless and undisciplined. If I consult of any acceptable work, Thou preparest me Motives, by Books, by Teachers, by Friends, by Opportunities: Thou directest my Thoughts and apprehensions; ordering my Spirits in my Brain, that what will be efficacious should occur. Thou enlightenest my Judgement, to discern the consequence of Truth's necessary to my Resolution: Thou quellest my Appetite, that it hinder not those Truths from settling in me. If I resolve, Thou so rangest all things, that I choose what is best, not only for the present, but what shall be so too in future occasions, whereof I know nothing. And as I am utterly ignorant of the things that are to fall out many months and years after, which nevertheless depend on this Resolution, and in their season so take their force from it, that they would certainly fail if it had not been made right: no more, or rather much less know I any thing, or did I cooperate in the least to that long Chain of Causes, which bred in me all those parts and little circumstances; every one so necessary to this Resolution, that if any had missed, the Resolution had miscarried more or less, not proving the same, nor producing the same effects. So that let me reflect on any action, great or little, long or short, or however qualified, I find that 'tis I indeed do it, but the force and virtue (&, by consequence, the honour and praise) is thine. I do it, but as the Child to whom the Nurse gives Nuts or Beads, and holding his hand, throws them into a hole; whilst he, alas, thinks 'tis he plays so well, and pleases himself as with his own act, not having the wit to consider 'tis his Nurse's aim: Just so, my God and my tender Sustainer, just so dost thou with me, whilst I often forget thee; my weak brains reaching no farther than to see that I do the deed, without being able (through dulness or pride) to pass myself, and discern thee the only true cause and root of all my good. But seeing myself consult, & resolve, and do, I often take this wretch for as primary as Thou, for thy coefficient and helper, not purely thine instrument and wholly depending on thee. Which since I barely am, and that (virtuous action) my chiefest good proceeds so entirely from Thee; what is left for me, but to love, ever love, and nothing else but love?  
Thus far reach the Entry and Porch of Love's Palace. Then, we discover Its great Hall; when we begin to contemplate the Essential Deity, macerated and steeped, for our sakes, in all the Miseries of Mankind. That God of Gods lapped up in a Virgin's Womb: delivered naked into freezing winds and the smart strokes of night-aire: swathed in bands and clouts: hanging at a Maiden's breasts: short in Age, weak in limbs; and not forgetting to fulfil all infirmities of his Brethren. Soon after, led by his Mother's hand, settling his tender steps, feeding on the fruits of our earth, following his Parents to Jerusalem, lost, and sought, and not found, with tears: subject to his Mother, and her Husband: growing in Wisdom and Virtue, as well as in Body. After this, working with his reputed Father, and in no visible fashion, differing from the life of his Parents, till he was baptised by Saint John, his holy Precursor. Then, fasting forty days in the Wilderness, gathering Disciples, instructing them, working miracles before them, living on the same meats, dyeting and lodging with them; maintained by Alms, having no certain abode, but most commonly among the poor, and simple Fishermen. Farther, we see him weary, thirsty, hungry, forgetting hunger for love of souls, envied, slandered, blasphemed, threatened; now ready to be stoned, now to be precipitated, flying, hiding himself, troubled in spirit, weeping for his friends, weeping for his Country, contradicted, persecuted, conspired against; His confidents corrupted, his followers excommunicated, his friends sought to death, others not daring to acknowledge him: and a thousand such indignities.  
But the State of Love shows itself first in the Garden. O the doleful unheard cries to Heaven! O the bitter Agony and deadly Sweat of blood! O the ravenous throats of devouring Wolves led on by one of his own dearest household! See with what outcries, and howl, and noise, they drag him through the streets of Jerusalem; every one looking out at their windows to fill their eyes with gazing at this strange wonder. See how He is tossed from one Tribunal to another: here reviled and buffeted, there flouted and spit on; every where despised and maliciously affronted. But what woeful spectacle is that Pilate presents to the People, which causes so great and loud cries? The Stature is of a Man, but the Head of a Monster. A Crown of piercing Thorns; bloody, and bloodying all that is near it. Hair, such as ravished the heart of the delicious Spouse; but clotted with gore, sticking some to his Neck and Flesh, some to the horrid Thorns, all rudely ruffled in a hideous disorder. A Face and Eyes able to subdue all hearts; if stripes, and buffets, and blood, and swellings, and marks of blind rage permitted them to beseen. Well-shaped Limbs; but disfigured and hidden in their own bruises, and tearings, and shatters. A red ragged Mantle, and a Sceptre of a Reed, to accomplish a King of sorrow, calamity and scorn. And why all this; this ingenious cruelty, to disguise a poor Man into so monstrous an Object of disdainful Malice? Alas! all's but to glut the bloodthirsty jaws of an unfaithful and rebellious Multitude; which, no longer than five days since, sung praises and Hosannas to this very Person, and strewed their garments and Palm-branches in his way. A People infinitely obliged, and no ways offended by him. A people that cannot accuse him of the least crime, that have seen him cleared in all Tribunals: the Judge himself pleading. His Innocence. Yet no less than his heart's last drop will satisfy them, though it be at the cost of their own and all their posterities. Nor can they tell why, more than that they are pushed on by those who abuse and pillage them, and who have conceived this implacable hatred against him, only because he discovered their violences, oppressions and tyrannies over these very people that so furiously exclaim against him.  
Well: if there be no remedy, charge those wounded shoulders with thy heavy Cross, dear Saviour, and show us, on Mount Calvary, a greater and stranger Transfiguration, able to dim That of Mount Tabor. I see thy spread Arms, thy nailed Hands and Feet, thy racked Sinews, thy pierced Side, thy bended Neck, thy fallen Looks, thy torn Body, thy pale and bloodless Flesh, thy Company of infamous Thiefs, and thy miserable Favourite and forlorn Mother. I hear thy last Words and breath'd-out Soul into the Hands of thy Father; not, as they command Heaven, but as they reach to Hell.  
O Love! canst thou love, or express it, beyond this? Yes: hark, and consider Those higher-endearing Charms of heaven. The Father, the most tender and perfectly-loving Father; whose Essence is pure, distilled spirit of love; He put his Onely-his Equall-his Intimate-his Coessential Son, with His own hands, nay, with This Son's own commanded Will and hands, to all these and infinite more unspeakable tortures and miseries, for thy sake, for thine, my soul; that thou mightest not complain thou wantedst an Object, a Motive, thou hadst not a Teacher, a Pattern, an Exciter, an Enforcer to Love.  
IF there be a Hall for all comers, certainly there's a Parlour too for select and choice friends; where they may confer together of thine infinite perfections, and often repeat with joy thy unspeakable bounties; where they may retire from the noise and distractions of the World, and entertain their thoughts with the sweet still-musick of contemplation; where they may sit alone, excluding even themselves, and be chastely ravished with the dear embraces of the Divine Spouse of Souls. O, what Drones are our highest-strained Lovers, whose memories in all languages affect immortality for their fantastic passions! what dull buzzing of Beetles are their kindest expressions to the melting notes of this heavenly harmony!  
But is there no further admittance (O glorious King of Love) for those who have so happily entered thy Palace? I remember a large upper-room, furnished by thyself, and richly prepared to give yet a more noble treatment: and methinks I hear something within me bid me advance a few steps further. What fair gilt door is that which dazzles so my sight to look on? Sure 'tis the holy place we seek, sealed up for thy peculiarly beloved. Open it, some bright and flaming Seraphin. O my God, what do I see? what's this my eyes behold? Manna raining from Heaven for those that can get to the shore of that former Red Sea of love's floods? Truly my God, my Lord, Love has transported thee even to ecstasy, it has made thee do extravagant and frenetick actions: extravagant indeed and freneticall, if measured by the narrow and short judgement of poor humanity; but heights, and depths, and Abysses, if referred to thy uncircled wisdom, and unlimited reach of bounty and goodness. Behold the Body that hanged on the Cross, that was anointed in the Grave, that rose again and ascended to the right hand of the heavenly Creator: Behold, It falls down in wheaten drops, like Coriander Seeds, to feed and feast the wretches, descended from Adam. Behold the Body, the Blood, the Soul, the eternal Person, the Deity, the Trinity; all couched, as it were, in a corn of Bread. The Omnipotency, that made Heaven; the Wisdom, that linked all possibilities into the Chain of all Being's; the Bounty, that crowded into Nature's teeming bosom all that was Best: these, all these lie here covered like a Chemical pill in a Sugared wafer, Those looks from which Heaven and Earth amazedly fly; in whose Presence the Princes of the celestial hosts, and the Pillars of the World tremble: that Head, on which depends the fate of Souls, both past and to come: that Tongue which shall doom in one word, the Nations of all Ages: All are, here humbly stooped and subjected, to me, and other such wretches; even, to be abused by our wickedness. Yes, yes: all these are as truly, Here, as they are on thy Throne in Heaven; as they will be in the midst of the blessed, on the Day of thy Triumph over Nations. What do I say, as truly: and not, even, more: in a far more excellent manner? for thy Body is in Heaven, as in another and different thing: but, in the Sacrament, substantially, in It, as man's Soul and Body are in Man; as the adored Person of God is in my Lord Jesus Christ; as every thing is in its self or in its whole, Thou art therefore, my Jesus, both in Heaven and in the Sacrament, truly; but in one more properly, in the other more excellently: Reality is in both, but the Manner different. Wherefore, I cannot complain thou hast left us, by thine Ascension; and bereft us of that comfortable Presence, whose force was so magnetical in thy life-time. No, no; I see Thee as truly, as they did then: I feel thee as corporally, as did That Master of Touching, who sought thy Side and Wounds to embalm his Sense in: I Taste Thee as really, as the Chanaan-Feaster did the Wine Thou sent'st him: Thou deludest not my Senses, by making me only seem to See, Feel and Taste, when indeed I do not; Thou entertainest me not with other things or Qualities, which are with Thee, but not thyself. No, no; the White I see is Thou; the Body I hold in my hand or mouth, is Thine and Thou; that which yields Savour to my tongue and palate, is thy-self, and no other thing. This thou hast told me; this thy Church has ever apprehended and taught; this I believe and confess to Thee. But oh! can I conceive without trembling, or speak without horror? Does Man's Hand break the Body of my Saviour? do Man's teeth rend and mangle the Sacred vesture of Deity? Yes, yes, my Soul; fear not to confess the Wonders and Mercies of thy Lord and God: they may be hard to understand, but they are the Words of Life. So far has He subjected his glorious Body to our use, that what other bread can suffer, may be wrought upon Him. Not that we can tear a Finger from his Hand, or his Hand from his Arm, or any one member from another: but as when we break bread, every piece is still bread; so when we divide his Body, both parts remain his whole Body; for it was not one part that became one part of the Bread, and another the rest, but all succeeded to each part of bread. Let great Clerks in their Schools, with their subtleties search how this can be effected, (for, seeing it is done in bread, it is not against Nature, nor unintelligible, even by That) to me let it suffice the Church has taught me 'tis so; and that 'tis the greatest benignity and most gracious condescence that God himself could express, to have it be so. And is this more, perhaps, then that thy immortal flesh should nourish my mortal Carcase? that it is mingled with Mine, as Wine with Water; as two melted Waxes incorporate themselves? Let none tell me, 'tis Quantity that is digested into my body: for than it is not Thou that nourishest me; and I will not forgo those precious expressions, that Thou feedest me with Thy Flesh, and giv'st me Thy Blood to drink. So thy Words sound; so thy Church has taught; & so I believe. How this can be done, without thy being turned into me; or how thy Substance can, unchangedly, be changed into mine, that thou mayest endue my Flesh with a quality of Immortality, let the Sages question: but I'm sure 'tis so; this, I know, is the way of Love; and the most charming Mystery, and enchanting Riddle, that ever love-spent bowels were able to sing or sigh out.  
ANd now, my Soul; having thus (perfunctorily, Alas!) viewed the excessive benefits of Almighty God: 'tis time to reflect a little upon thy Duty; and consider what motions and affections they should stir and work in thee.  
First, Thou hast seen how all thou hast are gifts: and, not only all; but, wholly. If any friend has done thee kindness: He prepared that Friend; he gave him the power, the occasion, the will to serve thee; he blessed his endeavours with efficacy & success, If thou thyself hast done any thing to thine own improvement or advantage: He gave thee, not only Body and Soul, with all their powers and faculties; not only matter, opportunity, strength, will, liberty, choice; but every least imaginable perfection of the very stroke of choice and liberty: insomuch that there is nothing, no considerability of it, so from thyself, that, even its being from thee comes not from the Almighty, in comparison to whom, no Friend, no creature ever did or can do any thing for thee. Shall then, the friendship or love of any Creature have power to draw my affection from God? permit it not, my great Creator; but thoroughly perfect thy work. Why am I good by half's, since I am entirely thy Design? I profess, before Thee, who seest my very heart, and before Angels and Men, that I ought not to be so, that 'tis folly and madness to be so. Give me then thy grace utterly to abhor and detest so injurious, so unworthy an ingratitude. And since Thou vouchsaf'st thus clearly to convince me, that 'tis a great indignity, and against all reason and truly-naturall inclination to join any with Thee; grant me ever with all exactness to observe this duty, That as no Creature has the least part in doing me good, but merely so far as it has it from Thee; no, not I myself: so none, none may share with Thee in my Love, but just so far as thy love, thine order, thy direction applies it to them.  
Next, my Soul, thou hast seen how the Benefits of God are not only all thou hast, but that they are in an excessive Measure; wide as the World; uncountable as the sands of the Sea; great as the Creatures can be: since neither the eminentest Men nor highest Angels are exempt from being ministering spirits, employed for thy salvation; nay, God himself, in the two Persons of the Son and Holy Ghost, has condescended to wait on Thee. So various and superabundant they are, that they comply not only with thy necessity, but serve even thy delights and recreations. So that thou art neither able to conceive the multitude and greatness, nor comprehend the worth and pleasingness of his favours. What then canst thou say? but only lie gasping with admiration of so vast, so unknown a Goodness, and sigh out in the centre of thy Heart, My sole-Good, my All; I thought before I was bound to acknowledge thy Benefits, and love Thee for them, but now I renounce both: for he that acknowledges, makes a show as if he were able to esteem; and he that loves, seems as if he would render somewhat. Not so I, my great Master, not so. But I protest myself infinitely below all thy mercies; unable to value the least of thy Blessings, much less to repay Thee any thing for them: since, had I any thing worthy thy acceptance, it were all thine, and I could offer Thee nothing but thine own. What then shall I do, but throw my heart at the feet of thy bounty, all-open, all-melted, without any self-will or power of resistance, at every pulse of my breath, repeating this only Burden, Do thy pleasure upon me.  
Again, Thou hast seen, my Soul, that (far beyond all created Essences) God has been so liberal as to bestow Himself on thee. He bowed the Heavens, and came down, rendering his sacred Person subject to all the miseries of Humanity. He laid aside all the prerogatives of his most noble and most perfect soul; exposing it to labours, to tears, to griefs, to those stupendious throws in the Garden (even, to such a height, that it admired itself, in those expressive words, My God, my God to what a point hast Thou let me be brought?) And, in fine, to be commanded even to Hell. He abandoned his Body; to heat, to cold, to weakness, to hunger and thirst, to weariness, to torments, to death: and not content with this (after the Resurrection, in Its state and season of Glory) he sent it again into the World, to be subject to a thousand more indignities, scorns and abusings. Here now my soul, compare seriously thy sufferings with His, and consider, First, Since nor health nor wealth, nor any other good thou possessest is thine, or from thyself, but only vouchsafed thee during his pleasure and discretion; all thy sufferings can be but a not-enjoying any longer what is no way due to thee: but He was incapable of any wants in himself; if his own Will had not taken upon him both a Nature that could want, and its necessities. Again, what commodities He at any time seemed to have, he held them from himself, and His purely they were; wherefore He truly suffered when they were ravished from him: whereas we, through ignorance, attribute to ourselves what we possess, being really but trusties, not Masters of the least pile of grass. Farther yet, our miscalled sufferings, if rightly used, are indeed blessings: for if we lose our Fortunes; alas, they made us not know ourselves: if our Health; 'tis to disaffect us to this world: if we prove unhappy in our Children, what greater distraction had we from the love of our hoped glory, than our care and tenderness to them? But Christ's sufferings could have no such advantageous effects: no, they were, chiefly, to show us the straitest Path to that life He promised us; and to assure by his own Example, (who could not but know and embrace what was best) that the way of Tribulation is the high-Road to Heaven. And canst thou, my Soul, after this, think any Cross heavy, and affliction hard to endure? canst thou choose but be vexed and enraged at thy Flesh and Blood, which, against all evidence, will force thee to esteem unfortunateness an Evil?  
O my great and sole Good! suppress these unreasonable follies which boil in my breast. Make me know whatever happens, good or bad, to me is securely my best, because it comes from Thee; whilst my only care ought to aim at this, how to improve it to my best advantage. Make me understand that whatever I bear with patience, I suffer for thy sake; because I take it, as from Thee; because I do as Thou commandest; because 'tis in imitation of Thee; and lastly, because it is to obtain Thee, my chief, my only, my most entire Treasure. O rich Treasure! O mass of Glory! in proportion to whose attainment, all the labours and tribulations that Men and Devils can heap on me are nothing, nothing considerable, not deserving even the slightest esteem.  
Lastly, My Soul, thou hast seen with what ambition and exaggeration of Courtship, with what unparallelled address and exquisite inventions thy Lord has sought and wooed thy love. First, He gave thee heaven and Earth, with all their Creatures, for thy Motives to know and love Him. Next, He made Himself thy Fellow and Brother in flesh and blood, that thou mightst not strain thyself, but familiarly conversing, be caught with his love. Beyond that, He has passed all those fabulous imaginations of dangers and misfortunes, in which idle wits have framed Errand Ladies to have engaged their Servants for proof of their fond & obstinate loyalty. He has heaped on thee all the names and titles of endearment, which either nature or use have introduced among Mankind: He is thy Maker, thy Father, thy Spouse, thy Brother, thy Ransomer out of thraldom, thy Deliverer from danger, thy Saviour from misery and death, thy Friend, even thy very Playfellow. He has gone beyond all this: He is thy Food, thy Drink, thyself: for since when thou eatest Him, His Flesh becomes thine, (as truly as the bread, whereof we increase and nourish our substance, which by the power of matter and conformity of quality remains in us) how can we choose but be his Members, so, that if we dishonour our body, we dishonour His? how can we choose but have a share of Him perpetually in us? and in plain truth be Relics of Him, of His glorious Flesh and immortal Blood? O Eternal Wisdom, how truly didst Thou say, It was thy delight to be with the Sons of Men? Can Angels boast of such privileges, of such tendernesses, of such Ecstasies of Thy love? No; none but so weak a Nature as ours was able to necessitate Goodness itself to so deep a condescendence as this: and none but all Goodness could so appropriate itself to all Infirmities. O melting Goodness, that fillest every corner and chink Thou findest capable of thy perfections, wave not this poor soul of mine, but make it understand the unmeasurableness of thy bounties and Mercy. Shall I for ever apprehend my past sins, still in fear whether they are forgiven? Shall I not rather, in the very moment of terror, turn me to Him, of whose readiness to receive me I cannot doubt? Mark how easy thou art to pardon thyself; and consider thou art one of his Members: whence be assured, as soon as thou sayest I have sinned, thou shalt hear thy sin is taken away. Shall I fear that I am not in state to receive his Body, when the very preparing myself, and having a true will to go meet Him, puts me in state? Shall I seek outward Medicines for my wounds, whose ulcerousnesse only consists in bereaving me of Love? O my dearest Lord, make me love and joy in thee: make me take pleasure to come even corporally to Thee: but much more to delight and solace myself in thinking of thee, in remembering how Thou lov'st me, how Thou art my Friend, my Spouse, my Father, and whatever dear name by which Thou hast been pleased to express so blest a relation. Make me place my chief felicity in contemplating how happy I shall be, when once I see Thee face to face, and familiarly converse with Thee, as a Friend does with his Friend. Mean while establish firmly in my soul this absolute judgement, that the greatest pleasure and advantage this world can afford me is, often, and long, and heartily to practise here on earth that sweet and holy conversation which is to be consummated in Heaven. What Maid, whose Parents have promised her a person completely qualified for her Spouse, is not pleased to sit by herself, and steadyly fix her thought upon him, wishing for the day she shall once meet and enjoy him; till then, love and honour him in his Picture, see him in every one that has seen and known him, and be overjoyed with all Tokens that come from him? Whereof what variety, my soul, hast thou from thy God? All we have hitherto discoursed is nothing else: Heaven and earth, and all that is in them: His Divinity, his Humanity, his Body, Blood, and Soul, Thyself, all thou hast, all thou dost, all thou hast done or ever shalt do.— Se Nascens dedit socium, Convescens in Edulium, se Moriens in Pretium, se regnans dat in Praemium.  
But retire thyself a little, my soul, from the multitude of the Creatures (His benefits) to thy more united thoughts: for Love's Palace, to be complete, must have a with-drawingroom. Thither then retire, and consider this Great Courtier that makes so many Embassyes to thee for thy Love. Know who He is, whether He be the best worthy thy Affections. First what's His Extraction? Is He Noble and of an ancient race? He is the First of things, whence all Nobility derives its esteem: His Ancientness is Eternity, higher driven than Time His Creature and Offspring, which yet is the measure of all other Auncestry. True it is, He is the First of his House, but the Last too. His nobility is not by derivation from others, and a participation of their worth: 'tis entirely His Own, outwearing the long Pedigrees of Mankind's successions by the never-changing greatness of His Own Person. Is He powerful? All things, except himself, are his Creatures, and the Works of his Hand: they depend for their being, all they have, all they are worth, on his breath; and would perish if he did not perpetually drop them from his omnipotent Fingers. He works them and turns them as he lists with a Fiat; and none can breathe a wish to resist him, but by his permission: nor is Himself able to make a Thing of such strength, that it can break his least Order or Will. Is He rich? Sea and Land, and all their Treasures are His: Beasts and Birds, Fishes, and Trees, and Plants are the store of his Bassecourt: the mines of the Earth and the Jewels of the Ocean are the refuse of his plenty. All that lies hidden behind the dazzling stars, (whose riches we cannot imagine) all's His. There's no end of his Wealth: and his Creatures are not able to make use of the least part of it. All this is well. But, peradventure, He is a great way off, and I cannot come near Him. He is every where: He makes Place itself: He is in all Things and their Places; to be separated from him is to be Nothing and No where. He is in thy very Heart, and in the bottom of thy Soul: the inmost thing thou canst find in thyself is He; nor canst thou look upon any thing without or within thee, but He is to be found and seen in it, if thou hast Eyes turned towards him, and a Mind to discern him. Thou canst never want his light, but by thine own fault; never be excluded from his Presence, but when thou turnest thy back to him; which yet can be but from his favours, not from his Power. With all this, is he wise? The Device of the World is His, He contrived the Order of Heaven and Earth. The Planet's roll by his measures: Night and Day proceed by his direction: the Waters in the Sea expect his beck, turning and winding just as he pleases. He jointed the Beasts, every one to his peculiar motion; and frames the Little-ones in the Damm's Wombs. He prevents and casts the counsels of Men, catching those who think themselves crafty, in their own snares, and overreaching them in their most premeditated projects. He changes Kingdoms and States, making Tyrants the instruments of their own ruin. In a word, He governs the Fates of Men and Angels, and brings them to those Ends he thinks fittest. Is He Bountiful and magnificent? Behold the Earth we walk on; all this he gave to One Man. Alas, we but trample on the outside, and fill a small part of it; there's a thousand times more we never come to see: and of this surface we inhabit, what vast Deserts are possessed only by Beasts and Birds, whilst all the Sea covers is stored only with Fishes? Think what abundance of Plants, Beasts, Birds, and Fishes live and die without the knowledge of Men: yet all bestowed on them, and created for them. Remember what a heap of Benefits thou found'st laden upon thyself, and know that Others have no less. See the Sun and Moon lighted like Torches to wait upon us; one far greater, the other not much less than the whole Earth. See in a fair night how the huge world about us is bestudded with glorious Gems that serve for nothing but witnesses of his great Magnificence, and unbounded Prodigality to us. But, Is He Purely Loving, and has no Ends in all He does? When no Creature had a Being, He was brimful of Glory, and infinitely satiated with his own happiness: being Essentially Joy and Pleasure to Himself: to Himself Honour and Praise, and all He could wish; He could desire nothing, nor aim at obtaining any thing. Now He has made Creatures, He's never the better for them: his Heart is not touched with their praises or goodworks, no more then 'tis molested with their dispraises or mis-deeds; nor can any possible Creature have force to move his Will, more than my weakness has to change the course of the Sun and Moon. He made all Creatures therefore, not for any good in them, or love conceived from them; but merely out of the Intrinsical Goodness of His Own Nature, and the strong Inclination which Himself is to do Good, because He is what He is; an Inclination stronger and more natural than any Lover in this world can have, with as much advantage as God's Nature has over a Creatures. So not without reason is His Love, but totally Reason; as not kindled by thinking or casting to obtain any End, but perfectly from Nature and Essence; and no more to be wrested from Him, then can His own Being: yet nevertheless, most perfectly free and rational. This is much. But He Loves a great many; so that I fear I shall have a small portion in His Affection. O no; His Heart is whole where it is: and as He comprehends perfectly all things with so high an eminency, that he knows every one as well as if there were nothing else to be known; so He loves every one as dearly as if there were no other. He is with one, without parting from another: He fills one, without emptying another; and (as a Rainbow in a Multitudes Eyes, or Thunder in all the World's Ears) He is Whole in All, and Whole in Every one. His Affection, his Care, his Tenderness is entire, indivisible to every one: the Multitude of those He loves, improves and raises every one's happiness to a far higher degree, in that it makes all them love one another, and publishes his particular Love of thee, to be known and esteemed by all the loves. Nor is there the least subject of any Envy or Jealousy: He can wait on All, entertain All, fill All, content All, bless and beatify All at once.  
And now, my glorious Lord, having sifted and racked my brains to find some exception against Thee, some excuse to palliate my withholding the Duty I owe Thee, some Cross-knot to dull the piercing of thy two-edged sword, dividing my Soul and Spirit: behold, nothing imaginable; but all sweetness, all heat, all light. O then let me turn my course, and joy at my missing desired misfortune. Let me sit with the happy Spouse, so pleased with every part of her Lover. Let me delight myself to consider the Greatness of every Perfection in Thee, and the Infiniteness of All. Let me compare Thy Eternity to the weak imitation of humane Nobility; and scorning This, joy in the immense eminency of That. Let the vast extent of thy Power (in wideness and profundity to all effects, and to Huge ones) make me laugh at the narrow-compassed and beggarly ends which the ambitious Hearts of this world aim at. O the poor Treasures that can be hoarded in caves, in houses, or towers! what proportion do they bear to Thy wealth? O the scant presence and jealous absence of Lovers in this world! the outwardness of them, and hearts to-be-guess'd-at! what bitter-sweets must they of necessity cause? Besides, their shallow wits and short reaches, in no other respect to be esteemed, but because we find no better: their hungry benefits and pinching prodigalities, proportioned to their petty affections: their by-ends and base aims, in their most real and truest professions: their weak and impertinent passions: their fond and changeable inclinations, easily consumed in a few trivial disgusts. What miserable penurious blasts are these to blow the coals of Love? And yet have these so long moved my Heart, whilst it has lain so heavy and restiff to lift itself up and follow thee. O my only Good, henceforth for ever make me run like the blessed Magdalen, without care or consideration, after the Odours of thy Perfumes. Make it all my pleasure to sit hours, and days, and nights, weighing every Excellency of thine, and considering how good it is for all Creatures, and particularly for me, that Thou art so rich in glory, so full of perfections; but above all, how thy adorable Attributes become Thyself, how bright and beautiful they sit upon Thee. Make me spend all my forces in blessing Thee that Thou art such, in rejoicing at it, in protesting that 'tis all reason, all fitness, all justice it should be so; that 'tis the bliss of thy Creatures, but yet a greater good and far more excellent in itself. Make me vapour away into Acts and Wills to have it so; to render it such (were it not so, and in my power to procure it) and that for what it is to me, but much more for what it is to Thee. But oh for that day, when this knowledge of mine (now childish, darksome, partial, and Enigmatical) shall be turned into manly, noon-like, full and clear Vision. O how unmeasurably must my Love be there increased, where the Object cannot fail to deserve infinitely more than I can employ! yet shall I then employ infinitely more than I can now imagine: and as the degrees of Love are multiplied, the degrees of Joy must still grow higher; and the more the Joy is, so much more must the Love be redoubled: thus raising still one the other, to the very breaking in pieces the Adamantine sinews of my Soul; whilst the Object ever stretches by its infinite perfection the bounds of a capacity ever yielding to embrace it. O how shall I cling to, and incorporate with him! not for fear of losing, but for eager desire of more enjoying. O how shall I melt into esteeming and praisings, and Love-breathing Dittyes! how shall I inessence myself into that Fountain of Goodness! Oh come, oh come, that happy day: come even now. I fear neither Hell nor Judgement; for I know Thou canst bear no wrath against those that love Thee. Come then, come while these sweet sighs call on Thee: wrest my soul from this loading, this loathsome body: screw up even these very aspirations to such a pitch, that they become the happy instrument to break my heartstrings (those fetters and bonds of my imprisoned Soul, which keep it from the sight of my so-beloved Spouse and Master) and set me at liberty in the eternal freedom of thy Palace, and everlasting glory of thy celestial Presence. Fiat, Fiat.  
Breathe a while, my Soul, and recall a little thy Spirits. This Stupendious Palace of Love still deserves a more curious search: 'tis not impertinent here to be humbly inquisitive. Let's see whether there be not yet some farther secret worthy our discovery. And behold a Lock and little Door. Oh, 'tis Love's Cabinet! Certainly He there reserves some rare Jewel to enrich and adorn thee. Knock, call aloud: and if he delay to open, at least peep through the keyhole, and see what's within. O Glory! 'tis the very Quintessence of Love's Object. I see how, because God is sole Eternal, all things must be made by Him: and since nothing can give, but what it has, nor make, but what it is, I see the whole frame of all that is or can be must be in Him; with all their joints and intriques', wherewith they are entangled in their flowing from Him. Whence I plainly discern that by knowing Him, I shall know all things, and all causes of all things. O vast and spacious Wisdom! O incredible content! For since my Soul is nothing else but a Vessel and capacity of knowledge, and This alone is the knowledge of all things, by their proper Causes too, and those resolved into theirs, even to the very highest cause (not ascending backward, but beginning at the Springhead, and most knowing it; and from it descending even to the lowest, the most impartible grain of Sand or Dust:) what can my Soul wish more? what can it imagine greater? Yes, my prospect opens itself farther, and I see that, since all created things are in themselves dispersed and multiplied with infinite variety, and sometimes incompossibility and contradiction, but in God refined and resumed into a most simple and indivisible Being; they must infinitely be better in Him then in themselves; & He yet infinitely better than they. For as four cannot be different from three, but because it has somewhat that three has not; so God must have something that is not in Creatures, to be different from them: and this being of a higher order and more eminent rank, must of itself be better than all they put together, and of a far nobler and richer glorious possession. I see yet more, that since God is cause of all other things out of Himself, He himself can have no cause; and that they having their being from Him, may be and not be, as composed of being and what is; only God has no such composition: wherefore since He cannot be what is, without being, He is being without what is; whereas all Creatures Substance is what is, and being an Accident to them. This I find that God is not only none of these things we see, but nothing like any of them: of a higher and superexcellent strain, not agreeing with them in any name that can signify Substance; infinitely above our utmost conceptions, incomparably sublimer, nobler, more wonderful, more deserving knowledge, and more stirring and straining an appetite of it. Beyond all this, I see that God is not such an Existence and being, as we apprehend by this name we give it, and which we exalt above what is by it; but as far retired above it, as that's above what is. He is not a being by which a thing is, but a being which is a thing, a Substance. He is a being redoubled upon itself, giving and receiving being to and from itself, and yet neither (for this is impossible;) but a higher inexpressible force, implying both without their contradiction. I see that all I have said and can say, are pure follies, not expressing, in the smallest degree, the thing which I see is: and the more I force myself to understand it, the farther I am from it, (one abyss still calling upon another) because it is infinite and unsoundable, but only to God himself. O happy darkness, if once to become lightsome! the more hidden thou art now, the greater bliss wilt thou be then. Oh that my heavy thoughts had the wings of an Angel to soar aloft and tower height upon height, till I came within view of these celestial Quires! not to discern Thee, my dread Lord, (for I should be never the nearer) but to quicken my desire, and increase my longing. O how fixed would mine eyes stare upon Thee, when thou shouldst be pleased to remove the screen of my mortal body, that now intercepts the view of thy glory, and demolish the strong-wall that as yet unhappily detains me from thy Presence! Methinks I see that no violence of nature, no falling weight, no bent of forced steel, no earth-bursting vapour, no tower-shivering thunder, or bulwark-tossing mines could express the eagerness of my Souls embracing Thee. Methinks I see Eternity too short to enjoy Thee in; and that my Soul would sooner wane to nothing, than part from Thee. Methinks there's no possibility of Pleasure which is not in Thee, nor any out of Thee; no faculty in my Soul to wish or think of any other thing but Thee: Thee, my only, my eternal, incomprehensible All, my dear, dearest Lord, and my God.  
If the good God has reserved for his Friends be so immense, and the joy and bliss it brings the Soul so extreme; who can doubt but the loss must be proportionable, and the grief and anguish of missing it be measured by the same weights? what then must thou do, my poor Soul, wavering yet betwixt hope and fear of these so important contraries? what must thou do to assure thy chief interest, and make thyself secure Mistress of so great, so glorious pretensions? Peradventure, spend thy time in wishes and flashing thoughts, like the Northern Fire-drakes, or the lightning breathe of fair Summer nights, which but vent their own heat without firing any thing. No, no; these goads pierce too deep to be contented with palliating and superficial remedies. Adieu then those so charming warbles of Father, Friend, Spouse, another self, and whatever else the Wit of Man, or even the Spirit of God has invented to tickle material fancy, and to revive Tara●●nteliz'd Souls. These are Milk for beginners; Lenitives to take away the angriness of their festering hearts, when they first tear off from worldly toys; Metaphorical expressions, which have no proper and solid meaning to feed the truth-hungry mind. The affections growing out of these are grounded upon love to ourselves; even then when we wish more good to another then to ourselves; even when in comparison we wish harm to ourselves. But, that God is our Good and final End, is as true as that He is our Maker: and the very Essence of our Soul is nothing else but a pure capacity and emptiness of Him; all its strength by nature or grace, nothing but an inclination to apply itself to Him, and be replenished by Him. Here all the sinews of nature are racked to their height: to this the Soul's more strongly bend then to its own being; since we see our thoughts are first driven outwards, and from the Objects return to make us reflect on ourselves; only at this Object we aim not to make it ours, but to make us its. All other knowledges are but as it were divers figurations and dispositions of our Soul: this is an adhering and union of our Soul to another thing. All Ends are Masters of our wills (as far as they are Ends) the Medium's only mastered by us; the last End therefore must be the absolute commander and forcer of the very Essence of our Will. And as the basis of a Statue (had it an appetite proportioned to its nature) would not wish to be above, but to lie under and support the Statue; or as the motion and way towards a form and term would wish to perish, in bringing the thing altered or moved to that state whereto its Essence employs its service: so our Soul, rightly affected, can wish no other than to be most subject, most conformable, and most entirely fitted to its last End. That then, my Soul, which thou hast to do, is (in the greatest peace and discretion and quiet of thy Heart) to cast about and seriously consider in what course of life (all things maturely pondered) thou art likeliest to cultivate and improve thyself best, and render thy thoughts most apprehensive of this only, this eternal Good: which having once found, with thy whole strength, with the neglect of all other things (as far as they avail not to this) be sure to prosecute vigorously, never sitting down, or so much as looking back; and in all considerable actions (even in this chosen way) still have a pure eye open to discern what most conduces to this only necessary work, or lest deviates thee from it.  
O Gregory Lopez, Thou (after the Apostles) unparallelled Master of Christian life! who will give me that prodigious unheardof constancy of thine, in every breath, for months and years, continually to fix my thoughts upon this main aim of my being; till I had made it hard and almost impossible for me to restrain them from it? But since this is more Angelical than Humane, obtain me grace, at least, from our General (thy immediate Master) every day to spend some competent space of time, in framing a lively view of this Great truth, and settling a strong resolution to continue in it for ever. Still may I strive by the following Act to surpass the precedent, as thou didst: still may I pursue the perfect Conquest of myself, till there remain in me no affection able to show its head, no passion daring to rebel against this heavenborn Principle; but it become sole Lord and absolute possessor of my Soul, as it was of thine. Then shall I not fear to sing a happy Nunc dimittis, when ere our just and glorious Judge shall send His warning rod, to cite me to that great to weak men, but no secret to such piercing spirits as thine; who enjoyedst a high noonday in this world, to break into a sevenfold light, when the welcome hand of death drew the thin and already half-transparent curtain of thy mortality. Amen.   

A DESCANT ON THE Prayer in the GARDEN.  
OBtain for me, ye beloved Disciples of our LORD Peter, James, and John, you happy favourites of the World's Redeemer, who by especial prerogative of love are still let in to his greatest secrets, obtain for me permission to wait on you into the Garden of Gethsemani, and with an humble silence to observe what passes there. Grief has already, I see, seized on your hearts, and raising drowsy humours into your heads, may suddenly perhaps surprise your eyes, and seal them up in their own tears. My heart is too stony to admit so deep an impression, my head too full of vanity to be oppressed with so rational, so religious a sadness: I'll watch and try to improve my levity into virtue, whilst you relieve your sorrows with the short comfort of an hour's repose.  
But while I speak, behold my Lord whirled away by the vehemency of his Spirit, like a ship rend from its shore and anchors, with a strong and sudden tempest: Behold him cast on the ground, his knees bend, his eyes o'erflown, his hands stretched up towards heaven, all covered with gloomy clouds and darkness, his heart swollen, his lips ready to break into some loud and doleful complaint against man's ingratitude. Oh, my Lord! what means this unusual strife & contention in thy own breast? Thou wept'st indeed o'er Jerusalem, and the pious Magdalen drew tears from thy eyes, but there was no such astonishment as this. Thou discoursedst of thy Passion in Mount Thabor, but with a glory that ravished the hearts of all that beheld it, and received from Heaven itself an attestation of thy Eternal Father. Often hast thou professed a great desire to see this hour, often complained that the time was so long deferred; and when thou cam'st this last voyage towards the Town, thou advancedst with so quick a courage, that thy swiftest followers could not equal thy pace. And now thou art arrived at the place of thy wishes, and the day thou hast so impatiently expected approaches near: horror seizes thee, grief surrounds▪ thee, cold and stupifying fears oppress thee, and that strong and resolute heart seems wholly o'ercome with the apprehension of this sad Tragedy. Art thou daunted at the sight of danger? is the face of Death so frightful to thee? O no: but thy kind design is to be tempted in all things without sin, that we may be comforted in the faintings and tremble of our heart. To fear, to be perplexed, to grieve, is an imperfection and weakness in humane nature, which might, and therefore aught to be assumed for our salvation and example; that we may learn of thee this great & difficult lesson, how to comport ourselves at the full tide of anguish and tribulation.  
But now the trembling air warns us of some ringing cry that's streaming towards our ears. Father let this cup pass from me. O my God, my Creator, my hope, and author of all my good, to thee it is he addresses his petition, before thee and thy merciful eyes he humbly unbinds and lays open all his wounds, too deep to be cured by any but thy almighty hand, too near his heart to find remedy, but from him who is in the centre of his heart, the only searcher and perfect healer of all hearts. Hear him, most gracious and bountiful God, hear him, who so justly calls thee Father. Remember 'tis he whom thou dost essentially and eternally generate. Remember that Soul-ravishing delight of God and Man wherewith thou art his Beginner. Remember thy Divinity is as truly and fully his as thine: thou hast it but to give, and 'tis his to receive. Remember he is that right hand with which thou twice didst strike the barren rock of Nothing, and the plentiful fountain of All things gushed out, to refresh the desert of thine elect. Remember he is the light of thy eyes, that pure eternal light that rises from thy own bright bosom, and shines perpetually in thy glorious Presence.  
Nor canst thou allege the exorbitancy of this request, to justify the unkindness of thy refusal. He asks not a Hecatomb of men and Angels to be offered in sacrifice to his great name; which yet thy Justice could not deny the Dignity of his Person. He demands not that the world's fabric should crack, and its sinews be strained in pieces, to change all Fates and Destinies for his pleasure; yet were not this too great a boldness for him that supports their poise with his power, and cements them together with his wisdom. He pretends not to honour, wealth or long life; yet all these thou bestowedst on Solomon, as a voluntary excess of thy bounty, and supererogation to what he asked thee; and behold a greater than Solomon is here. He seeks not the blood of his Enemies, in revenge of their unjust and malicious persecution: his prayers are confined to his own afflicted person, for one poor life he offers up all his sighs, all his tears; nay, not so much, for the only deferring of death; and if that be yet too high, he humbles his petition to this low request, only a les●e cruel, a less intolerable death, not a whole deluge of bitterness, not all the torments and affronts that a cursed synagogue of desperate Hypocrites could maliciously suggest, or an enraged rabble of a debauched and insolent multitude furiously execute. Can there be a more reasonable desire? a more clear and confident subject of hope? can there be a more unquestionable plea? a more violent and enforcing cry to heaven?  
And hark how it tears its way through the shivered Elements in those strong and piercing words; All things are possible to Thee. Excuse not thyself; lay not the fault on others; say not 'tis the wicked Judas betrayed him, when Thy own hands delivered him to his Enemy. Say not the hearts of the Jews are hard, since if thou pleasest, thy Grace can instantly mollify them. Say not Herod is a proud and libertine King, Pilate an unbelieving Pagan, whose fear of Cesar was above his love to Justice: for the hearts of Kings are in thy hand, and out of stones thou art able to make start up Sons of Abraham. And though the dismal hour be come, and the Kingdom of darkness encroach upon thy confines; yet hast thou more than twelve legions of Angels, to countermand the course of time, and scourge the powers of Hell. Since then all things are thus at thy dispose, see how he conjures thy Almighty compassion. If it be possible, let this Cup pass from me. He that can command thy whole power, summons it all to his assistance. He whose absolute will is absolutely irresistible, with his whole strength and utmost affections solicits thy Omnipotency to rescue him from this dismal period. Behold this meek and humble heart swollen high with sighs, and running over with the vehemency of his passions. Behold thy own thoughts divided, betwixt granting what seems so unjust in itself, and denying what is so necessary to us, the final sentence of death against an Innocent: if thou yieldest to his deliverance, Mankind is unavoidably ruined forever; if thou refusest, thou seemest to destroy at once all the hopes that even Angels & Seraphims can pretend to have their prayers admitted, since thou declin'st to hear the voice of thy Son, thy beloved, eternal and only Son.  
The afflicted Father in the Gospel soon received his cheerful dispatch, thy Son is well. The importune Cananean for a confident answer was doubly recompensed, both with the commendation, and fruit of her faith, her Daughter's recovery. The mourning Sisters of Lazarus, by once repeating this short Charm thy friend is sick, drew this thy Son into the midst of his Enemies, who watched continually all occasions to oppress him: and with one sorrowful cast of their eyes, moved in his heart so deep a compassion, that immediately he broke the fetters of death, and opened the prison of the Grave to restore them their lost Brother, whom they only wished for, and barely represented their condition, not thinking it necessary to ask any thing in direct terms of so noble a Benefactor. And yet (O Father of pity) He told us he did nothing but what he saw thee do before him. Where is then the God of Elias? are thy bowels of mercy petrifyed into Adamant? are the eternal springs of Libanus dried up? are the Heavens become of Iron, that no drop of dew can distil down to refresh a languishing Soul? O no; 'tis only to set before our eyes a glorious lesson of perfect patience for us to copy out and be happy: for, though thou killest him, still will he hope in thee, still cry and call on this sweet Persecuter to death. Bend but thine ear to those sacred words he speaks, Not my will but thine be fulfilled. True it is my God, thou art the Author and Conserver, the absolute & supreme Governor of all Things; and therefore 'tis just and necessary all c●eated wills be subject to thy dominion. But whence comes it (my dearest Lord) that those, whom thou scourgest with greatest severity, are most obedient to thy commands? I hear thy servant Job (the liveliest pattern of this thy afflicted Son) cry from the depth of his Soul, Who may have so much favour with God to obtain for me, that he will be pleased to lose his hand and cut me off, lest I fall into impatience, and contradict the judgements of the most holy? For my flesh is not of beasts, and I extremely apprehend my weakness. Yet was he but an imperfect draught of this great Sample of misery, wholly wrought over and through by the sharp needles of all sorts of affliction: from whom we hear no such fears, no such complaints; but a strong and generous denial of himself, abridged into this short and cordial protestation, Thy will be done.  
Ah, sweet SAVIOUR! does not the excess of thy griefs disturb a little thy memory? hast thou deliberately reflected on the force and consequence of those strange engaging words? Let me represent to thee the meaning of thy severe Father, and in his own threatening expressions, which thou wilt soon find to be too rigorous truth. I have prepared Clubs and Lanterns, Soldiers and Officers, the flatterers of thy enemies, to lay hands on thee, and with loud cries and scorns carry thee to the City of Jerusalem: Jerusalem, where thy Miracles have rendered thee so famous; Jerusalem, where thou so lately enterdst with loud acclamations of joy and Triumph. Thy will be done. I have prepared Judges of all sorts, Priests and Divines, and Religious men, that daily minister at the holy Altar, grave and solemn persons, highly esteemed upon the opinion of their extraordinary piety and learning, to discredit and accuse thee: Kings and Precedents, Jews and Gentiles, and an infinite multitude of people, assembled at this great Feast to scorn and condemn thee. Thy will be done. I have prepared Whips and Scourges, and Buffets and Thorns to afflict thee▪ Fools coats and a mock-Purple, and the ridiculous Sceptre of a Reed to vilify and abuse thee; a heavy Cross and tearing Nails, unmerciful Hands and ingrateful Hearts to torment and affront thee. Thy will be done. I have prepared a Murderer to be preferred before thee, to be begged in thy place by thy beloved people, on whom thou hast spent thy life; two other Thiefs for thy Companions and fellow-Sufferers, and a shameful Title of Treason to be imposed on thy Crosse. Thy will be done. I have prepared multitudes of strangers to stand by unconcerned, and with dry eyes behold all thy miseries, and tell the whole world thy seeming crimes: nay I have found thee out a Judas amongst thy own Disciples to betray thee with the base hypocrisy of a Kiss; the best of them to deny thee, all to forsake thee, and even now thy three choice friends lie sleeping by thee, little solicitous of their own duty to thee, or thy Sufferings for them. Thy will be done. I have prepared thee a desolate Mother to stand at the foot of thy Cross, and afflict thy departing Soul with the sight of her grief, and the disconsolate condition thou leavest her in: and above all (to verify thy prophesied title, of Man of Sorrows) I will be a rigid and austere Father to thee, abandoning thee into the hands of the powers of darkness, and strictly charging them not to spare so much as thy life's last breath. Even so, Thy will be done, not mine.  
O invincible courage! O admirable fortitude! which neither life nor death, nor things present, nor to come, nor fears, nor torments can shake or stir one inch from its settled resolution. Pardon me, my dearest SAVIOUR, I cannot weep, I cannot pity thy Sufferings, nor contain my heart from singing Alleluia, in the midst of the strongest throes and bitterest pangs of thy Agony: For this one act makes thee more happy, more amiable, more glorious, than all the world can give, than all thy miracles can deserve. Not Mount Thabor's glory, not Palm-sunday's acclamations, not the true and hearty praises of the people fed with thy bread, and resolved to force thee to be their King; not the Wisdom to confute thy adversaries, not the Power to change, at pleasure, the course of Nature; no, not the sitting at the right hand of thy eternal Father, to command the Virtues of the Heavens, & absolutely govern the Fates of Men and Angels, can render thee so rich & contented in thyself, so beautiful and adorable to the redeemed by thy Cross, as this immovable Constancy, this admirable Resignation, this unparallelled Tranquillity and evenness of Mind.  
But beware, my Soul, thou be'st not mistaken; for his words import that his will be not fulfilled: it is not then His will that is so constant and fixed: yet His it is, for were it His Father's will, by which he speaks, he could not call it thine; since he that speaks is to himself I, and not thou, and the will by which he delivers his Speech, mine and not thine. But how then can he say not mine, of that which he will have done? 'Tis therefore His; and more his, than what he calls his: yet he calls it not His, and the opposite His. And were it not His, it would do us no good, for whom he does what he does. For we have also contrary wills; and yet we have not two wills, following two natures, as he had: therefore even in him, these two wills, with one whereof he speaks and concerning the other, are both of his humane nature; that by them we might cure the contrariety we find in ours. Why then is one of them his, the other his Fathers? why? if not because the one he had from infirmity, the other from strength; the one from flesh and blood, the other from heavenly inspirations: what proceeds from weakness, from defect, from the odour of nothing, is our own; but what comes from virtue, from strength, from Being, all that is Gods, and to be acknowledged totally from him, as Beginner and Perfecter of all things.  
But is there no remedy for this distressed Soul? must he alone tread the winepress of sour grapes, alone drink of this bitter Cup? Ah! dearest SAVIOUR, leave no means unattempted that possibly may bring thee at least some small refreshment: arise and try whether thy old friends can afford thee any comfort; those who were so delighted with thy glory on Mount Thabor; who sung so cheerfully but five days since at thy triumphant entrance into Jerusalem; who just now solemnly protested their readiness to die with thee. Alas! they are all asleep; so fast, so dead asleep, that neither chiding, nor shame, nor compassion on their dear Masters desolate condition can awake them, to say so much as one short prayer for themselves. O weak foundation of humane Friendship! unhappy and already deceived is he that builds on so false a bottom: how far better is it to trust in God then Man, in the Maker of Princes than the mouldering handwork? O ill-requited Master? is this the fruit of all thy teachings? is this the reward for all thy benefits? is this the profit of all those stupendious wonders thou hast done before them? At lest Judas was tempted by the glistering shine of silver, that dazzles the eyes of all the world; he was exasperated by the loss of the price of the Ointment, and by the public reproach of his treason: whereas these thy beloved, thy cherished Disciples, have no plea to excuse them, but their dulness, but their coldness and want of love to their Master.  
Though Earth fail, Heaven may be true. Renew thy complaints, and let the fervour of thy prayers melt those azure floors the Angels tread. And already behold a bright and sudden dawning from the East, and the visible shape of a heavenly Messenger. Come down thou long expected Ambassador of peace, and fill this horrid desert with the charming music of thy celestial voice. But oh! he stays at the gates of heaven, and only looks down afar off, as if earth now were become an abomination, and unworthy to be approached by sanctified persons: no glory to God, no peace to Men, no harmonious note, not so much as a cup of cold water to refresh the fainting bowels of this afflicted Sufferer. O strange mutation! how undutiful a disobedience is this, in respect of the obsequious service tendered him at his baptism? Are heavenly affections subject to change? do Stars increase and wane like sublunary meteors? O no: gladly would this Spirit of happiness stoop low as Earth, to raise the head, and support the weak members of his Lord: but that severe Father's commands, and narrow limited permissions allow only so far to relieve the oppressed heart, that it may be able to drink up the very dregs of that bitter potion he has tempered for him. O Heaven, now more cruel than Earth! which charitably stupifies the sense, and takes away the pain by increasing the torment; whilst tyrannical heaven sends fresh supplies of strength, only to heap on a greater load of grief.  
O my dear Lord, all thy troubled thoughts seemed wholly restored to their usual calmness; and, by that noble act of Resignation, all thy affections ran smoothly in their own channels: but now again the storm is raised, and louder and fiercer than before. See how it beats against that strong barrier of Thy will be done. See how the broken waves return with doubled fury to invade this Rock of patience, whose firmness, the more violently it is assaulted, the more steadily 'tis fixed, and his prayer more extended to his eternal Father. Hear him, hear him, fountain of Pity; if not for thy own goodness, if not for respect to him, at least that we may be encouraged to call on thee, that we may hope to be heard by thee. Thou invitest us to come to thee, shall this be our entertainment? thou chidest us for ask nothing in thy SON'S name, yet shut'st thine ears against His voice, begging for his own Soul. Undutiful and wicked Reuben, that had abominably defiled his Father's bed, found compassion for his little Brother, seeing the anguish of his heart, when he humbled himself before them, and after reproached his brethren, that his life was justly demanded at their hands; and will not the cry of this innocent Abel's blood reach up to heaven, and mollify the rigidness of those severe decrees?  
But whither am I strayed? here on earth is subject enough to require my whole application. Behold how his blood boyles in his veins; his flesh grows red and swells all o'er his body; his sinews and arteries stretch, as on a rack; the pores of his skin open like a sieve; and, in a moment, more fountains than feed the Ocean, break from this source of misery. What's this I see on that once-comely visage? not crystal tears, not a gentle and trickling dew, but whole drops of ruddy and blackish sweat. Woe is me, they are ●●●●ed and knotty berries of blood: Unfortunate fruit of this fair Tree. Physicians and Naturalists, you say thick humours cannot be purged by transpiration; study me then how this is come to pass. O the most beautiful and gracious among the sons of men! Was it for this thy body was fitted to thee of Virgin-bloud, untouched by men and Angels? Was it for this thou wert made the Top and Crown of Mankind; thy senses the most quick and delicate that could be sifted from the finest dust of Adam? Was it for this thou wert nursed by the purest of Women, and carried in the hands of Angels, lest thou shouldst at any time offend thy tender feet? Were all these diligences used, all these privileges bestowed, only to prepare thee a body for the rack; a subject to practise on a thousand intolerable affronts; a person to be made the unparallelled example of prodigious calamities? Such aught the Lamb to be that's brought to the Altar for sacrifice, without blemish, without spot. A just and reasonable Law, but here too severely interpreted, too cruelly applied.  
O unfortunate Adam! now the effects of thy fond disobedience are become too sadly evident; now thou art clearly convinced the unnatural murderer of thy Posterity; now that mortal wound thou gavest mankind is rendered incurable. Rise up, with all thy numerous children about thee, whose repentance expects a blessed eternity: force the gates of Limbo with your sighs, and let your strong groans tear the bowels of the earth; that opening a wide passage towards heaven, and this Garden, fruitful in miseries, your cries and exclamations may be heard. Protest to God, and Angels, and Men, and all creatures, that Hell is too gentle a pain, eternity too short a time to punish your misdemeanours. Let the Devils invent some more exquisite torture then their wits and malice have yet devised, and stretch the measure of time beyond infinity, that you may pay your debts, and disengage this immaculate Lamb of God, this inestimable pearl of the Deity. Contest the Judge of righteousness to lay the punishment where he finds the fault: charge him with his word, that 'tis not his part to chastise the innocent with the wicked, but every one bear his own burden. But why do I cry and murmur? I hear my complaints contradicted by Him they most concern: I hear him, in that weak voice is left him, humbly say, How then shall the Scripture be fulfilled? My Father has promised, can he deny himself? my Father is all Truth, dare I offer to falsify his Word? my Father is essentially Goodness, can I make him go less? No, no, let us march on confidently towards my Passion, for behold him at hand who is to betray me.  
And now, my Soul, Thou who hast been a witness of this great spectacle, a searcher of this profound mystery: Thou who hast discovered the source of this impenetrable secret, and knowest God had no need of us, took not our nature on him to please himself; but we, and I in particular, were the chief mark he aimed at, and all these excesses and heights of incomparable goodness contrived to exalt our affections towards him; nor this, because our loves refresh or better him, but purely for this sole motive, that they are our good, and contain in them our eternal felicity: If thou art able to look at so glorious a light, to balance so great a weight, to judge of and value so infinite a Charity; tell me what I have to do. After this can I love any thing but my Lord JESUS CHRIST? can I love any thing but the Love of my blessed SAVIOUR? Father and Mother, Brothers and Sisters, Kinsfolk and Friends, what is't you have done for me? what goods have you wished me? what wishes can you make to deserve the least share in my Affection? Health and Pleasure, Riches and Honour, what charms have you comparable to this ravishing object of love? dull and fleeting appearances, take away your deceitful flatteries. Turn thou thy face to me, sweet JESUS, that I may every day still more and more understand and admire thy love: Make it the business and delight of my life to study how much thou lovest me: Set me in solitude to consider thy works upon me, to repeat thy benefits to me: Let nothing but desires and affections towards thee entertain my thoughts, nothing but strains and tunes of thy Bounty and Goodness sound in my Ears.  
The End.   

ERRATA.  
Page 115. line ult. for set set, read only set. p. 132. l. 1. for - richeses read - rishest.   

The STATIONER to the READER.  
THough the equality and strength not-to-be-counterfeited, which evidently shines in what ever proceeds from this prodigious Brain, will sufficiently secure all considering persons (that is, all that deserve to read him) against mistaking for His, any of those less generous Issues, born frequently into the world of Parents honoured with the same name: yet aswell to render that security both more easy and universal, as readily to address those, whom a happy familiarity with this tempting▪ Branch may have raised to the ambition of a farther acquaintance with the numerous rest of its Family and Blood (by a singular prerogative, all perfectly agreeing together, all worthy such a Father) I have thought it a duty of civil Charity to subjoin this Catalogue, which both the learned and devout World longs and hopes to see much enlarged.   

A Catalogue of the several Books written by Mr. THO. WHITE.  

THe learned Dialogues DE MUNDO, in Latin, printed at Paris, 4ᵒ.  
The elaborate Preface before Sir Kenelm Digbyes DEMONSTRATIO IMMORTALITATIS ANIMAE, printed also at Paris, in Folio.  
INSTITUTIONES PERIPATETICAE, etc. first printed at Paris, and afterwards at London, in 8ᵒ.  
INSTITUTIONES SACRAE, etc. in 2. Tom. printed at Paris, in 8ᵒ.  
QUAESTIO PRAEVIA & Mens Augustini de Gratia, in 12ᵒ.  
Villicationis suae de MEDIO ANIMARUM STATU Ratio, at Paris, in 12ᵒ.  
MEDITATIONES in Gratiam Sacerdotum Cleri Anglicani, etc. in 16ᵒ.  
RICHWORTH'S DIALOGUES, or the judgement of Common sense in the choice of Religion, two Editions at Paris, in 12ᵒ.  
A CATECHISM in English, etc. in 24ᵒ.  
MEDITATIONS in English, in 12ᵒ.