Meditations Upon Birds
MEDITATIONS ON BIRDS
MEDITATION I
Upon the singing of a Nightingale WHO that hears such various, ravishing, and exquisite melody, would imagine the bird that makes it, to be of so small and contemptible a body and feather? Her charming voice engaged not only mine attentive ear, but my feet also to make a nearer approach to that shady bush in which that excellent musician sat veiled; and the nearer I came, the sweeter the melody still seemed to be; but when I had descried the bird herself, and found her to be little bigger, and no better feathered than a sparrow, it gave my thoughts the occasion of this following application.
This bird seems to me the lively emblem of the formal hypocrite; (1.) In that she is more in sound than substance, a loud and excellent voice, but a little despicable body; and it recalled to my thoughts the story of Plutarch, who hearing a nightingale, desired to have one killed to feed upon, not questioning but she would please the palate as well as the ear: but when the nightingale was brought him, and he saw what a poor little creature it was, Truly, said he, thou art vox et prœterea nihil,—a mere voice, and nothing else; so is the hypocrite: did a man hear him sometimes in more public duties and discourses,
O, thinks he, what an excellent man is this! what a choice and rare spirit is he of! but follow him home, observe him in, his private conversation and retirements, and then you will judge Plutarch's note as applicable to him as the nightingale. (2.) This bird is observed to charm most sweetly, and set her spirits all on work, when she perceives she hath engaged atttention; so doth the hypocrite, who lives and feeds upon the applause and commendation
of his admirers, and cares little for any of those duties which bring in no returns of praise from men: he is little pleased with a silent melody and private pleasure betwixt God and his own soul.
Scire tuum nihil est nisi te scire hoc sciat alter.
Alas! his knowledge is not worth a pin, If he proclaims not what he hath within.
He is more for the theatre than the closet; and of such Christ saith, "Verily they have their reward." (3.) Naturalists observe the nightingale to be an ambitious bird that cannot endure to be outvied by any: she will rather chuse to die than be excelled; a notable instance whereof we have in the following pleasant poem, translated out of Starda, concerning the nightingale and a lutanist.
Now the declining sun did downward bend From higher heavens, and from his looks did send
A milder flame, when near to Tyber's flow, A lutanist allay'd his careful woe With sounding charms; and in a greeny seat
Of shady oak, took shelter from the heat; A nightingale o'erheard him, that did use
To sojourn in the neighbour groves, the muse That fill'd the place, the syren of the wood
(Poor harmless syren!) stealing near, she stood Close lurking in the leaves attentively Recording that unwonted melody:
She conn'd it to herself; and ev'ry strain His fingers play'd her throat return'd again.
The lutanist perceiv'd an answer sent From th' imitating bird, and was content To shew her play more fully: then in haste
He tries his lute, and giving her a taste Of the ensuing quarrel, nimbly beats On all his strings: as nimbly she repeats;
And wildly raging o'er a thousand keys, Sounds a shrill warning of her after-lays:
With rolling hand the lutanist then plies The trembling threads, sometimes in scornful wise
He brushes down the strings, and strikes them all With one even stroke, then takes them several,
And culls them o'er again; his sparkling joints
With busy discant mincing on the points, Reach back again with nimble touch, then stays:
The bird replies, and art with art repays.
Sometimes as one unexpert, and in doubt, How she might weild her voice, she draweth out
Her tone at large, and doth at first prepare A solemn strain, nor wear'd with winding air,
But with an equal pitch, and constant throat, Makes clear the passage for her gliding note;
Then cross division diversly she plays, And loudly chanting out her quickest lays,
Poises the sound, and, with a quivering voice, Falls back again. He wondering how so choice,
So various harmony could issue out From such a little throat, doth go about Some harder lessons, and with wond'rous art,
Changing the strings, doth up the treble dart, And downward smite the base, with painful stroke
He beats; and as the trumpet doth provoke Sluggards to fight, ev'n so his wanton skill
With mingled discord joins the hoarse and shrill.
The bird this also tunes: and whilst she cuts Sharp notes with melting voice, and mingled puts
Measures of middle sound, then suddenly She thunders deep, and jugs it inwardly With gentle murmur, clear and dull she sings
By course, as when the martial warning rings.
Believ't the minstrel blusht, with angry mood:
Inflam'd (quoth he) thou chantress of the wood, Either from thee I'll bear the prize away,
Or vanquished break my lute without delay.
Inimitable accents then he strains, His hands flies on the strings; in one he chains
Far different numbers, chasing here and there, And all the strings he labours every where?
Both flat and sharp he strikes, and stately grows
To prouder strains, and backward as he goes Doubly divides, and closing up his lays Like a full choir, a shiv'ring consort plays:
Then pausing, stood in expectation Of his co-rival, nor durst answer on.
But she, when practice long her throat had whet, Enduring not to yield, at once doth set Her sprits all to work, and all in vain;
For whilst she labours to express again, With nature's simple voice, such divers keys,
With slender pipes such lofty notes as these.
O'ermatch'd with high designs, ov'ermatch'd with woe; Just at the last encounter of her foe, She faints, she dies, falls on his instrument
That conquer'd her! a fitting monument, How far ev'n little souls are driven on,
Struck with a virtuous emulation.
And even as far are hypocrites driven on by their ambition and pride, which is the spur that provokes them in their religious duties.
MEDITATIONS II
Upon the Sight of many small Birds chirping about a dead Hawk HEARING a whole choir of birds chirping and twinkling together, it engaged my curiosity a little to enquire into the occasion of that convocation, which mine eye quickly informed me of; for I perceived a dead hawk in the bush, about which they made such a noise, seeming to triumph at the death of their enemy; and I could not blame them to sing his knell, who, like a Cannibal, was wont to feed upon their living bodies, tearing them limb from limb, and scaring them with his frightful appearance. This bird, which living was so formidable, being dead, the poorest wren or titmouse fears not to chirp, or hop over. This brings to my thoughts the base and ignoble ends of the greatest tyrants, and greedy ingrossers of the world, of whom, (whilst living) men were more afraid, than birds of a hawk, but dead, became objects of contempt and scorn. The death of such tyrants is both inglorious and unlamented: "When the wicked
"perish, there is shouting," Prov. 11:10. Which was exemplified to the life, at the death of Nero, of whom the poet thus sings;
Cum mors crudelem rapuisset sœva Neronem, Credibile est multos Romam agitasse jocos.
When cruel Nero dy'd th' historian tells, How Rome did mourn with bonfires, plays, and bells.
Remarkable for contempt and shame have the ends of many bloody tyrants been. So Pompey the Great, of whom Claudian the poet sings,
Nudus pascit aves, jacetne qui possidet orbem
Exiguœ telluris inops— Birds eat his flesh. Lo, now he cannot have Who rul'd the world, a space to make a grave.
The like is storied of Alexander the Great, who lay unburied thirty days; and William the Conqueror, with many other such birds of prey: whilst a beneficial and holy life is usually closed up in an honourable and much lamented death.
For mine own part, I wish I may so order my conversation in the world, that I may live, when I am dead, in the affections of the best, and leave an honourable testimony in the consciences of the worst; that I may oppress none, do good to all, and say when I die, as good
Ambrose did,—I am neither ashamed to live, nor afraid to die.
MEDITATION III
Upon the Sight of a Blackbird taking Sanctuary in a Bush from a pursuing Hawk WHEN I saw how hardly the poor bird was put to it to save herself from her enemy, who hovered just over the bush in which she was fluttering and squeaking, I could not but hasten to relieve her, (pity and succour being a due debt to the distressed;) which, when I had done, the bird would not depart from the bush, though her enemy were gone; this act of kindness was abundantly repaid by this meditation, with which I returned to my walk: my soul, like this bird, was once distressed, pursued, yea, seized by Satan, who had certainly made a prey of it, had not Jesus Christ been a sanctuary to it in that hour of danger. How readily did I find him to receive my poor soul
into his protection? Then did he make good that sweet promise to my experience, Those that come unto me I will in no wise cast out. It called to mind that pretty and pertinent story of the philosopher, who walking in the fields, a bird, pursued by a hawk, flew into his bosom; he took her out, and said, 'Poor bird, I will neither wrong thee, nor expose thee to thine enemy, since thou earnest to me for refuge.' So tender, and more than so, is the Lord Jesus to distressed souls that come unto him. Blessed Jesus! how should I love and praise thee, glorify and admire thee, for that great salvation thou hast wrought for me? If this bird had fallen into the claws of her enemy, she had been torn to pieces indeed, and devoured, but then a few minutes had dispatched her; and ended all her pain and misery: but had my soul fallen into the hands of Satan, there had been no end of its misery.
Would not this scared bird be flushed out of the bush that secured her, though I had chased away her enemy? And wilt thou, O my soul, ever be enticed or scared from Christ thy refuge? O let this for ever engage thee to keep close to Christ, and make me say, with Ezra,
"And now, O Lord, since thou hast given me such a deliverance as this, should I again break thy commandments!"
MEDITATIONS IV
Upon the sight of divers goldfinches intermingling with a flock of sparrows METHINKS these birds do fitly resemble the gaudy courtiers, and the plain peasants; how spruce and richly adorned with shining and various coloured feathers (like scarlet, richly laid with gold and silver lace) are those? How plainly clad, in a home-spun country russet are these? Fine feathers (saith our proverb) make proud birds; and yet
the feathers of the sparrow are as useful and beneficial, both for warmth and flight, though not so gay and ornamental, as the others; and if both were stript out of their feathers, the sparrow would prove the better bird of the two: by which I see, that the greatest worth doth not always lie under the finest clothes: And besides, God can make mean and homely garments as useful and beneficial to poor and despised Christians, as the ruffling and shining garments of wanton gallants are to them: and when God shall strip men out of all external excellencies, these will be found to excel their glittering neighbours in true worth and excellency.
Little would a man think such rich treasures of grace, wisdom, humility, lay under some russet coats.
Sœpe sub attrita latitat sapientia veste.
Under poor garments more true worth may be Than under silks that whistle, who but he.
Whilst, on the other side, "the heart of the wicked (as Solomon hath observed) is little worth," how much soever his clothes be worth.
Alas! it falls out too frequently among us, as it doth with men in the Indies, who walk over the rich veins of gold and ore, which lie hid under a ragged and barren surface, and know it not. For my own part, I desire not to value any man by what is extrinsical and worldly, but by that true internal excellency of grace, which makes the face to shine in the eyes of God and good men: I would contemn a vile person, though never so glorious in the eye of the world; but honour such as fear the Lord, how sordid and despicable soever to appearance.
MEDITATION V
Upon the sight of a Robin-red-breast picking up a Worm from a mole-hill, then rising OBSERVING the mole working industriously beneath, and the bird watching so intently above, I made a stand to observe the issue; when in a little time the bird descends, and seizes upon a Worm, which I perceived was crawling apace from the enemy below that hunted her, but fell to the share of another which from above waited for her. My thoughts presently suggested the meditations from that occasion: methought this poor worm seemed to be the emblem of my poor soul, which is more endangered by its own lusts of pride and covetousness, than this worm was by the mole and bird: my pride, like the aspiring bird, watches for it above; my covetousness, like the subterranean mole, digging for it beneath. Poor soul! What a sad dilemma art thou brought to? If thou go down into the caverns of this earth, there thou art a prey to thy covetousness that hunts thee; and if thou aspire, or but creep upward, there thy pride waits to ensnare thee. Distressed soul! whither wilt thou go? Ascend thou mayest, not by vain elation, but by heavenly conversation, beside which there is no way for thy preservation; "the way of life is above to the wise," &c.
Again, I could not but observe the accidental benefit this poor harmless bird obtained by the labour of the mole, who hunting intentionally for herself, unburroughed and ferreted out this worm for the bird, who, possibly, was hungry enough, and could not have been relieved for this time, but by the mole, the fruit of whose labour she now feeds upon. Even thus the Lord oft-times makes good his word to his people: "The wealth of the wicked is laid up for the just."
And again, "The earth shall help the woman." This was fully exemplified in David, to whom Nabal, that churlish muckworm,
speaks all in possessives: "Shall I take my bread," &c. "and give it to one I know not whom?" And yet David reaps the fruits of all the pains and toils of Nabal at last. Let it never encourage me to idleness, that God sometimes gives his people the fruit of others sweat, but if providence reduce me to necessity, and disable me from helping myself, I doubt not then, but it will provide instruments to do it. The bird was an hungry, and could not dig.
MEDITATION VI
Upon the shooting of two Finches fighting in the air HOW soon hath death ended the quarrel betwixt these two little combatants! had they agreed better, they might have lived longer; it was their own contention that gave both the opportunity and the provocation of their death; and though living they could not, yet, being dead, they can lie quietly together in my hand.
Foolish birds, was it not enough that birds of prey watched to devour them, but they must peck and scratch one another? Thus have I seen the birds of paradise (saints I mean) tearing and wounding each other, like so many birds of prey, and by their unchristian contests giving the occasion of their common ruin; yea; and that not only when at liberty, as these were, but when engaged also; and yet, as one well observes, if ever Christians will agree, it will either be in a prison, or in heaven; for in prison their quarrelsome lusts lie low, and in heaven they shall be utterly done away.
But O what pity is it, that those who shall agree so perfectly in heaven, should bite and devour each other upon earth? That it should be said of them, as one ingeniously observed, who saw their carcasses lie together, as if they had lovingly embraced each other,
who fell together by a duel: Quanta amicitia se invicem amplectuntur, qui mutua et implacabili inimicitia perierunt!
Embracing one another, now they lie, Who by each other's bloody hands did die.
Or, as he said, who observed how quietly and peaceably the dust and bones, even of enemies, did lie together in the grave; Non tanta vivi pace conjuncti essetis; you did not live together so peaceably. If conscience of Christ's command will not, yet the consideration of common safety should powerfully persuade to unity and amity.
MEDITATION VII
Upon the singing of a blind finch by night A DEAR friend, who was a great observer of the works of God in nature, told me, that being entertained with a sight of many rarities at a friend's house in London; among other things his friends shewed him a finch, whose eyes being put out, would frequently sing, even at midnight. This bird, in my opinion, is the lively emblem of such careless and unconcerned persons as the prophet describes, Amos
6:4, 5, 6. who chant to the viol, when a dismal night of trouble and affliction hath overshadowed the church. You would have thought it strange to have heard this bird sing in the night, when all others are in a deep silence except the owl, an unclean bird, and the nightingale, which before we made the emblem of the hypocrite. And as strange it is, that any, except the profane and hypocritical, should so unseasonably express their mirth and jollity; that any of Sion's children should live in pleasure, whilst she herself lies in tears. The people of God, in Psalm 137. tell us in what postures of sorrow they
sat; even like birds, with their heads under their wings, during the night of their captivity. "How shall we sing the Lord's songs in a strange land?" It is like enough, such as can sing and chant in the night of the church's trouble, have well feathered their nests in the days of her prosperity; however, let them know, that God will turn their unseasonable mirth into a sadder note; and those that now sit sad and silent shall shortly sing for joy of heart, when "the winter is past, the rain over and gone, the flowers appear again upon the earth, and the time of the singing of birds is come."
MEDITATION VIII
Upon the comparing of two Birds Nests IT is pretty to observe the structure and commodiousness of the habitations of these little architects, who, though they act not by reason and counsel, but only by natural instinct, yet reason itself could hardly have contrived a neater building of such simple materials. How neatly hath the thrush ceiled or plastered his nest, with admirable art and industry! how warmly hath the finch matted his? And both well fenced against the injury of the weather.
How comfortably hath nature provided convenient habitations for these weak and tender young ones, who have warm lodging, and variety of provisions hourly brought them, without their care or pains? This trifling object suggests to my thoughts a more excellent and serious contemplation, even the wonderful and unparalleled abasement of Jesus Christ, who for my sake voluntarily submitted himself to a more destitute and neglected state, than these birds of the air: For Matth. 8:20. he saith, "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head."
"The craggy rock to foxes holes afford, The pleasant woods a resting-place to birds;
For Chrisht no fixed habitation's found, But what was borrow'd, or the naked ground."*
O melting consideration! that the glorious Son of God, John 1:14.
"The Lord of glory," James 2:1. "The brightness of his Father's glory,"
Heb. 1:3. "Who was rich," 2 Cor. 8:9. "and thought it not robbery to be equal with God," Phil. 2:6. who from all eternity was infinitely and ineffably "delighting and rejoicing in the bosom of his Father," Prov.
8:30. that he, I say, should manifest himself in flesh, 2 Tim. 3:16. yea, "in the likeness of sinful flesh," Rom. 8:3. that is, in flesh that had the marks and effects of sin upon it, as hunger, thirst, pain, weariness, and mortality, and not only so, but to chuse such a state of outward meanness and poverty, never being possessed of a house in this world; but living as a stranger in other men's houses, and stooping in this respect to a lower condition than the very birds of the air, and all this for enemies. O let it work both admiration and thankfulness in my soul! my body is better accommodated than the body of my Lord. "Dear Jesus! by how much the viler thou madest thyself for me, by so much the dearer shalt thou be to me."†
MEDITATION IX
Upon the early singing of birds HOW am I reproved of sluggishness by these watchful birds! which cheerfully entertain the very dawning of the morning with their cheerful and delightful warblings! They set their little spirits all a-
work betimes, whilst my nobler spirits are bound with the bonds of soft and downy slumbers. For shame, my soul! Suffer not that publican sleep to seize so much of thy time, yea, thy best and freshest time! reprove and chide thy sluggish body, as a good bishop once did, when, upon the same occasion, he said, Surrexerunt passeres, et stertnunt pontifices.
The early chirping sparrows may reprove Such lazy bishops as their beds do love.
Of many sluggards it may be said, as Tully said of Verres, the deputy of Sicily, Quod nunquam solem nec orientem, nec occidentem viderat: that he never saw the sun rising, being in bed after; nor setting, being in bed before.
It is pity that Christians of all men, should suffer sleep to cut such large thongs out of so narrow a hide as their time on earth is. But alas! it is not so much early rising, as a wise improving those fresh and free hours with God that will enrich the soul; else, as our proverb saith, A man may be early up, and never the nearer; yea, far better it is to be found in bed sleeping, than to be up doing nothing, or that which is worse than nothing. O my soul! learn to prepossess thyself every morning with the thoughts of God, and suffer not those fresh and sweet operations of thy mind to be prostituted to earthly things; for that is experimentally true, which* one, in this case hath pertinently observed, that if the world get the start of religion in the morning, it will be hard for religion to overtake it all the day after.
MEDITATION X
Upon the haltering of Birds with a grain of Hair
OBSERVING, in a snowy season, how the poor hungry birds were haltered and drawn in by a grain of hair cunningly cast over their heads, whilst, poor creatures, they were busily feeding, and suspected no danger; and even whilst their companions were drawn away from them, one after another, all the interruption it gave the rest was only for a minute or two, whilst they stood peeping into that hole through which their companions were drawn, and then fell to their meat again as busily as before; I could not chuse but say, 'Even thus surprizingly doth death steal upon the children of men, whilst they are wholly intent upon the cares and pleasures of this life, not at all suspecting its so near approach.' These birds saw not the hand that ensnared them, nor do they see the hand of death plucking them one after another into the grave.
"Death steps as swift, and yet no noise it makes; Its hand unseen, but yet most surely takes*."
And even as the surviving birds for a little time seemed to stand affrighted, peeping after their companions, and then as busy as ever to their meat again; just so it fares with the careless, inconsiderate world, who see others daily dropping into eternity round about them, and for the present are a little startled, and will look into the grave after their neighbours, and then fall as busily to their earthly employments and pleasures again, as ever, till their own turn comes.
I know, my God, that I must die as well as others; but O let me not die as others do, let me see death before I feel it, and conquer it before it kill me; let it not come as an enemy upon my back, but rather let me meet it as a friend, half way. Die I must, but let me lay up that good treasure before I go, Matt. 6:19. Carry with me a good conscience when I go, 2 Tim. 4:6, 7. and leave behind me a good example when I am gone, and then let death come, and welcome.