No cross, no crown

by William Penn

I must needs say, her mind had a noble prospect; her eye was to a better and more lasting inheritance than can be found below: which made her often to despise the greatness of courts, and learning of the schools, of which she was an extraordinary judge. Being once at Hamburgh, a religious person, whom she went to see for religion's sake, telling her it was too great an honour for him, that he should have a visitant of her quality come under his roof, that was allied to so many great kings and princes of this world, she humbly answered: "If they were godly as well as great, it would be an honour indeed; but if you knew what that greatness was as well as I, you would value less that honour." Being in some agony of spirit, after a religious meeting we had in her own chamber, she said, "It is a hard thing to be faithful to what one knows: Oh, the way is strait! I am afraid I am not weighty enough in my spirit to walk in it." After another meeting, she uttered these words: "I have records in my library, that the Gospel was first brought out of England hither into Germany, by the English, and now it is come again." She once withdrew, on purpose to give her servants the liberty of discoursing with us, that they might the more freely put what questions of conscience they desired to be satisfied in; for they were religious: suffering both them, and the poorest of her town, to sit by her in her own bedchamber, where we had two meetings. I cannot forget her last words, when I took my leave of her: "Let me desire you to remember me, though I live at this distance, and that you should never see me more: I thank you for this good time; and know and be assured, though my condition subjects me to divers temptations, yet my soul hath strong desires after the best things." She lived her single life till about sixty years of age, and then departed at her own house in Herwerden, in the year 1680, as much lamented as she had lived beloved of the people: to whose real worth, I do, with a religious gratitude, for her kind reception, dedicate this memorial.

XXXIII. Bulstrode Whitlock, has left his own character in his "Memoirs of English affairs;" a book that shows both his employments and greater abilities. He was almost ever a commissioner and companion with those great men that the lords and commons of England, at several times, appointed to treat with King Charles I. for a peace. He was commissioner of the great seal, ambassador to the crown of Sweden, and sometimes president to the council: a scholar, a lawyer, a statesman; in short, he was one of the most accomplished men of the age. Being with him sometimes at his own house in Berkshire, where he gave me that account I have related of chancellor Oxenstiern, amongst many serious things he spoke, this was very observable, "I have ever thought," said he, "there has been one true religion in the world, and that is the work of the Spirit of God in the hearts and souls of men. There have been indeed divers forms and shapes of things, through the many dispensations of God to men, answerable to his own wise ends, in reference to the low and uncertain state of man in the world; but the old world had the Spirit of God, for it strove with them; and the new world has had the Spirit of God, both Jew and Gentile, and it strives with all; and they that have been led by it, have been the good people in every dispensation of God to the world. And I myself must say, I have felt it from a child to convince me of my evil and vanity, and it has often given me a true measure of this poor world, and some taste of divine things; and it is my grief I did not more early apply my soul to it. For I can say, since my retirement from the greatness and hurries of the world, I have felt something of the work and comfort of it, and that it is both ready and able to instruct, and lead and preserve those that will humbly and sincerely hearken to it. So that my religion is the good Spirit of God in my heart; I mean, what that has wrought in me and for me." And after a meeting at his house, to which he gave an entire liberty for all that pleased to come, he was so deeply affected with the testimony of the light, spirit, and grace of Christ in man, as the gospel dispensation, that after the meeting closed in prayer, he rose up, and pulled off his hat, and said, "This is the everlasting gospel I have heard this day: and I humbly bless the name of God, that He has let me live to see this day, in which the ancient gospel is again preached to them that dwell upon the earth."

XXXIV. A sister of the family of Penn, in Buckinghamshire, a young woman delighting in the finery and pleasures of the world, was seized with a violent illness that proved mortal to her. In the time of her sickness she fell into great distress of soul, bitterly bewailing the want of that inward peace which makes a death-bed easy to the righteous. After several days' languishing, a little consolation appeared after this manner. She was some hours in a kind of trance; she apprehended she was brought into a place where Christ was; to whom, could she but deliver her petition, she hoped to be relieved. But her endeavours increased her pain: for as she pressed to deliver it, he turned his back upon her, and would not so much as look towards her. But that which added to her sorrow, was, that she beheld others admitted: however, she gave not over importuning him. And when almost ready to faint, and her hope to sink, he turned one side of his face towards her, and reached forth his hand, and received her request: at which her troubled soul found immediate consolation. Turning to those about her, she repeats what had befallen her, adding, "Bring me my new clothes, take off the lace and finery;" and charged her relations, not to deck and adorn themselves after the manner of the world: for that the Lord Jesus, whom she had seen, appeared unto her in the likeness of a plain countryman, without any trimming or ornament whatever; and that his servants ought to be like Him.

XXXV. My own father, after thirty years employment, with good success, in divers places of eminent trust and honour in his own country, upon a serious reflection, not long before his death, spoke to me in this manner: "Son William, I am weary of the world: I would not live over my days again, if I could command them with a wish: for the snares of life are greater than the fears of death. This troubles me, that I have offended a gracious God, that has followed me to this day. Oh, have a care of sin: that is the sting both of life and death. Three things I commend to you. First, Let nothing in this world tempt you to wrong your conscience; I charge you, do nothing against your conscience, so will you keep peace at home, which will be a feast to you in the day of trouble. Secondly, Whatever you design to do, lay it justly, and time it seasonably; for that gives security and dispatch. Lastly, Be not troubled at disappointments; for if they may be recovered, do it; if they cannot, trouble is vain. If you could not have helped it, be content; there is often peace and profit in submitting to Providence, for afflictions make wise. If you could have helped it, let not your trouble exceed instruction for another time: these rules will carry you with firmness and comfort through this inconstant world." At another time he inveighed against the profaneness and impiety of the age; often crying out, with an earnestness of spirit, "Woe to thee, O England! God will judge thee, O England! Plagues are at thy door, O England!" He much bewailed that divers men in power, and many of the nobility and gentry of the kingdom, were grown so dissolute and profane; often saying, "God has forsaken us; we are infatuated; we will shut our eyes; we will not see our true interests and happiness: we shall be destroyed!" Apprehending the consequences of the growing looseness of the age to be our ruin; and that the methods most fit to serve the kingdom with true credit, at home and abroad, were too much neglected: the trouble of which did not a little help to feed his distemper, which drew him daily nearer to his end: and as he believed it, so less concerned or disordered, I never saw him at any time; of which I took good notice: wearied to live, as well as near to die, he took his leave of us, and of me, with this expression, and a most composed countenance: "Son William, if you and your friends keep to your plain way of preaching, and keep to your plain way of living, you will make an end of the priests to the end of the world. Bury me by my mother: live all in love: shun all manner of evil: and I pray God to bless you all: and He will bless you."

XXXVI. Anthony Lowther, of Mask, a person of good sense, of a sweet temper, a just mind, and of a sober education; when of age to be under his own government, was drawn by the men of pleasure of the town, into the usual freedoms of it, and was as much a judge as anybody of the satisfaction that way of living could yield; but some time before his sickness, with a free and strong judgment, he would frequently upbraid himself, and contemn the world for those unreasonable as well as unchristian liberties that so much abound in it; which apprehension increased by the instruction of a long and sharp sickness, he would often despise their folly, and abhor their guilt; breathing, with some impatience, after the knowledge of the best things, and the best company; losing as little time as he could, that he might redeem the time he had lost; testifying often, with a lively relish, to the truth of religion, from the sense he had of it in his own breast: frequently professing, he knew no joy comparable to that of being assured of the love and mercy of God; which, as he often implored with strong convictions, and a deep humility and reverence, so he had frequently tastes thereof before his last period; pressing his relations and friends, in a most serious and affectionate manner, to love God, and one another more, and this vile world less. And of this he was so full, it was almost ever the conclusion of his most inward discourses with his family; though he sometimes said, he could have been willing to have lived, if God had pleased, to see his younger children nearer a settlement in the world; yet he felt no desire to live longer in the world, but on the terms of living better in it. For that he did not only think virtue the safest, but the happiest way of living: commending and commanding it to his children upon his last blessing.

I shall conclude this chapter of retired, aged, and dying persons, with some collections I have made out of the life of a person of great piety and quality of the French nation.

XXXVII. Du Renti, a young nobleman of France, of admirable parts, as well as great birth, touched with a sense of the vanity of the world, and the sweetness of a retired and religious life, notwithstanding the honours and employments that waited for him, abandons the pride and pomp of the world, to enjoy a life of more communion with God: do but hear him: "I avow," saith he, "that I have no gust in anything where I find not Jesus Christ; and for a soul that speaks not of Him, or in which we cannot taste any effect of grace flowing from his Spirit, (which is the principle of operations, both inward and outward, that are solidly Christian,) speak not to me at all of such an one: could I, as I may say, behold both miracles and wonders there, and yet not Jesus Christ, nor hear any talk of Him, I count all but amusement of spirit, loss of time, and a very dangerous precipice. Let us encourage ourselves to lead this life unknown, and wholly hid from men, but most known to and intimate with God; divesting ourselves, and chasing out of our minds all those many superfluities, and those many amusements, which bring with them so great a damage, that they take up our mind, instead of God. So that when I consider that which thwarts and cuts into so many pieces this holy, this sweet, and amiable union, which we should have continually with God, it appears, that it is only a monsieur, a madame, a compliment, and chatting, indeed a mere foolery; which notwithstanding doth ravish and wrest from us the time that is so precious, and the fellowship that is so holy, and so desirable. Let us quit this, I pray you, and learn to court it with our own Master; let us well understand our part, our own world, as we here phrase it, not that world I mean, which we do renounce, but that wherein the children of God do their duties to their Father. There is nothing in this world so separate from the world, as God; and the greater the saints are, the greater is their retirement into Him. This our Saviour taught us whilst He lived on earth, being in all his visible employments united to God, and retired into the bosom of his Father. Since the time that I gave up my liberty to God, as I told you, I was given to understand to what a state of annihilation the soul must be brought, to render it capable of union with Him: I saw my soul reduced into a small point, contracted and shrunk up to nothing: and at the same time I beheld myself, as if encompassed with whatsoever the world loves and possesseth; and, as it were, a hand removing all this far from me, throwing it into the ocean of annihilation.

"In the first place, I saw removed all exterior things, kingdoms, great offices, stately buildings, rich household-stuff, gold and silver, recreations, pleasures; all which are great encumbrances to the soul's passing on to God, of which therefore his pleasure is, that she be stripped, that she may arrive at the point of nakedness and death, which will bring her into possession of solid riches and real life. Assure yourself, there is no security in any state, but this of dying and annihilation; which is to be baptized into Christ's death, that we live the life of mortification. Our best way is therefore to divest ourselves of all, that the holy child Jesus may govern all. All that can be imagined in this lower world is of small concernment, though it were the losing of all our goods, and the death of all the men in it; this poor ant-hill is not worthy of a serious thought. Had we but a little faith, and a little love, how happy should we esteem ourselves in giving away all, to attend no more, save on God alone; and to say, Deus meus et omnia; my God, and my all! 'Being,' saith he, 'in a chapel richly wainscotted, and adorned with very excellent sculpture, and with imagery, I beheld it with some attention, having had some skill in these things, and saw the bundles of fleurs-de-luce, and of flowers in the form of borders, and of very curious workmanship; it was on a sudden put into my mind, The original of what thou seest would not detain thee at all in seeing it. And I perceived, that indeed all these, and those flowers themselves, not in pictures, would not have taken me up; and all the ornaments which architecture and art invent are but things most mean and low, running in a manner only upon flowers, fruits, branches, harpies, and chimeras, part whereof are in their very being but things common and low, and part of them merely imaginary; and yet man, who croucheth to everything, renders himself amorous and a slave of them; no otherwise than as if a good workman should stand to copy out, and counterfeit some trifles and fopperies. I considered by this sight how poor man was to be cheated, amused, and diverted from his sovereign good. And since that time, I could make no more stand to consider any of these things; and if I did it, I should reproach myself for it, as no sooner seeing them in churches or elsewhere, but this presently put upon my spirit. The original is nothing; the copy and the image is yet less; each thing is vain, except the employment of ourselves about God alone. An absolute abnegation will be necessary to all things, to follow in simplicity, without reserve or reflection, what our Saviour shall work in us, or appoint for us, let it be this or that. This way was showed me, in which I ought to walk towards Him: and hence it is, that all things to me ordinarily are without any gust or delight. I assure you, it is a great shame to a Christian to pass his days in this world more at ease than Jesus Christ here passed his: ah! had we but a little faith, what repose could we take out of the cross!'"