CHAP. LXXXI.
Peace.To this conclusion, dear Truth, I heartily subscribe, and know [that] the God, the Spirit, the Prince, the angels, and all the true awaked sons of peace, will call thee blessed.
Truth.How sweet and precious are these contemplations, but oh! how sweet the actions and fruitions?
Peace.Thy lips drop as the honey-comb, honey and milk are under thy tongue; oh! that these drops, these streams, might flow without a stop or interruption!
Truth.The glorious white troopers (Rev. xix.) shall in time be mounted, and he that is the most high Princeof princes, and Lord General of generals mounted upon the word of truth and meekness, Psalm xlv., shall triumph gloriously, and renew our meetings. But hark, what noise is this?
Wars for conscience.
Peace.These are the doleful drums, and shrill-sounding trumpets, the roaring, murdering cannons, the shouts of conquerors, the groans of wounded, dying, slaughtered righteous with the wicked. Dear Truth, how long? how long these dreadful sounds and direful sights? how long before my glad return and restitution?
Truth.Sweet Peace, who will believe my true report? yet true it is, if I were once believed, blessed Truth and Peace should not so soon be parted.
Peace.Dear Truth, what welcome hast thou found of late beyond thy former times, or present expectations?
The blessed Magna Charta.
Truth.Alas! my welcome changes as the times, and strongest swords and arms prevail: were I believed in this, that Christ is not delighted with the blood of men, but shed his own for his bloodiest enemies—that by the word of Christ no man for gainsaying Christ, or joining with the enemy anti-christ, should be molested with the civil sword. Were this foundation laid as the Magna Charta of highest liberties, and good security given on all hands for the preservation of it, how soon should every brow and house be stuck with olive branches?
Peace.This heavenly invitation makes me bold once more to crave thy patient ear and holy tongue. Error’s impatient and soon tired, but thou art light, and like the Father of lights, unwearied in thy shinings. Lo here! what once again I present to thy impartial censure.