THe Sun had as yet but approach’d the East, and my Body as yet lay moveless in the Bed, whilst my roving Thoughts were in various Dreams, rambling to distant places, when, me-thought, I heard my name several times pronounc’d by a not unknown Voice; This noise made me, as I was soon after told, half open my Eyes, to see who it was that made it, but so faintly, that I had quickly let my Self fall asleep gaain, if the same Party had not the second time call’d me louder than before, and added to his Voice the pulling me by the Arm. But though this wak’d me so far, as to make me take notice that I was call’d upon to rise, yet my Drowsiness, and my Unwillingness to forgo a not unpleasant Dream, keeping me from discerning distinctly, who it was that call’d me, made me briskly enough bid him, what ever his business were, let me alone; But though at the same time I turn’d away my Head to shun the Light, though dim, which at the half open’d Curtain shone in upon me, yet the Party instead of complying with my desires, did by throwing open the Curtains, further let in so much more Light upon my Face, that finding it would not serve my turn to keep my Eyes shut, I open’d them to see who it was that gave me this unwelcome Disturbance. This I had no sooner done, than I perceiv’d that ‘twas Eusebius, who with Lindamor, and two or three other Friends, was come to call me to go a Fishing, to a place, where by appointment we were to meet about Sun-rising. The respect I paid Eusebius, and the value I plac’d upon his Conversation, covered me with Blushes to be thus surpris’d by him, and oblig’d me to satisfie him as well as I could, how much I was troubl’d and asham’d to have the favour of his Company brought me to my Bed-side, which I ought, and intended to have waited on him. And thus, whilst I was making him my Apologies, and he was pleasantly reproaching me for my Laziness, and Laughing at the disorder I had not yet got quite out of, I made a shift hastily to get on my Cloaths, and put my self into a condition of attending him and the Company to the River-side.
Whilst we were walking thither-ward, and Lindamor was minding Eusebius of the promise he had made the Day before, to exercise, upon most of the things that should occur to us, his Art of making Occasional Reflections, I was delighting my self with the deliciousness of that promising Morning, and indeed the freshness of the Air, the verdure of the Fields and Trees, and the various and curious Enammel of the Meadows, the Musick of the numerous Birds, that with as melodious as chearfull Voices welcom’d so fair a morning. The curious and orient Colours wherewith the rising Sun embellish’d the Eastern part of the Sky, and above all that source of Light, who, though he shews us all that we see of glorious and fair, shews us nothing so fair and glorious as himself, did so charm and transport me, that I could not hold expressing my satisfaction in tearms that, Eugenius was after pleased to say, needed not Rhymes to make them Poetical. And the sense of this invited me to add, that I now would not for any thing have miss’d being wak’d, and thought my self hugely oblig’d to Eusebius’s freedome, that would not suffer me to sleep out so glorious a Morning, nor lose the satisfaction of such desirable Company.
Eusebius, who was but a little way off in discourse with Lindamor, over-hearing a good part of what I had said, thought fit to take thence a Rise, to begin complying with his Friends requests, and accordingly, walking up towards me, and addressing himself to me, he told me, you are unconcern’d enough, Philaretus, in what I am about to say, to make it allowable for me to tell Lindamor, that what has this Morning happen’d to you, puts me in mind of what I have several times observ’d on another occasion. For when a Man is so lull’d asleep by sensual pleasures, that like one that sleeps, he has but the faculty, not the exercise of Reason, and takes his Dreams for realities, if some serious Divine, or other devout Friend, concern’d for the Sinner’s soul, or his glory that Dy’d to redeem it, endeavour to awaken him, and rowse him out of that State wherein he lies so much at ease; such attempts are wont at first to be look’d upon by the lazy Sinner, enamour’d of his ease, and present condition, but as pieces of unseasonable, if not uncivil officiousness, and entertaining the Light it self but as an unwelcome Guest, he obstinately shuts his Eyes against that which alone makes them usefull, and instead of looking upon the Attempter as his Friend, he checks him, and expostulates with him, and uses him almost as an Enemy; Insomuch, that too often those that love the welfare of Souls too little, or their own ease too much, forgo, with their hopes, their endeavours to reclaim him. But if by God’s blessing, upon the constancy of this kindness, and the letting in of so much Light upon the Sinner, that he finds himself unable to continue his Slumber any longer with it, he comes to be thorowly awak’d, he quickly grows sensible that he is brought out of the Kingdome of Darkness into a true and marvellous Light, and instead of those empty fleeting Dreams, which did before amuse and delude him, and which to rellish, and be fond of, the Eyes of his Mind must be as well clos’d as those of his Body, he is admitted to noble and manly entertainments, such as Reason chuses, Conscience applauds, and God himself approves. And this change of his condition he finds so advantageous, that he would not for all the World return again to that, he was at first so angry to be disswaded from, and he does not forgive, but thank the Person that disquieted him, and blushes at the Remembrance of his having reduc’d others to importune him to be happy: And betwixt shame and gratitude, the sense of his present, and of his past condition possessing him, how much he has reason to make his Rescuer as well amends for what he indur’d, as retributing for what he acted for him, he does perchance, especially in the first fervours of his Zeal, think himself as much oblig’d to his Awakener, as Philemon was to Saint Paul, to whom the Scripture says, that he ow’d even himself. And sometimes such a new Convert, as I am speaking of, will think his Obligation to the Instrument of his change so suitable to the transcendent satisfaction he finds in the change it self, that he would despair of seeing his Benefactor sufficiently recompens’d, if he did not remember a saying of the Prophet, (That those that turn others to Righteousness, shall shine as the Stars for ever and ever,) that gives him ground to hope that God himself (whose plenty as well as bounty is inexhausted) will make the Recompence his work. Wherefore, concludes Eusebius, if you chance to have any Friends, (as ‘tis odds most Men have) that stand in need of this as great as unwelcome expression of kindness, let us not be too soon discourag’d, by finding the effects of our friendship coldly received, and possibly too look’d upon as disturbances; for besides, that the less they are desir’d, and the worse they are entertain’d, the more they needed: a Christian is not bound so much to concern himself in the success of his endeavours, as to leave it in the power of every one that will be obstinate, to make him unhappy, when the business one way or other come to an end, he may miss his aim, without losing his labour, since he serves a Master that is as ready to reward, as able to discern Intentions; and in case your indeavours do succeed, you will at once make a Man your Friend, and worthy to be so. And you shall scarce ever find Men more affectionate to you, than those you have made your Friends, by making them Enemies to Vice.
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