Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE SECOND PART.1011

 

TIM. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too, but take heed in time, and be wise. While we are out of danger, we are out; but when we are in, we are in. So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana betook herself to her journey. But when Timorous got home to her house, she sent for some of her neighbors, to wit, Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs. Know-nothing. So when they came to her house, she fell to telling the story of Christiana, and of her intended journey. And thus she began her tale.

TIM. Neighbors, having had little to do this morning, I went to pay Christiana a visit; and when I came to the door, I knocked, as you know, it is our custom. And she answered, If you come in God's name, come in. So in I went, thinking all was well. But when I came in, I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and her children. So I asked her what was her meaning by that. And she told me, in short, that she was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She also told me a dream she had, and how the King of the country where her husband was had sent her an invitation to come thither.

Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, what! Do you think she will go?

TIM. Aye, go she will, whatever come on't; and methinks I know it by this; for that which was my great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the troubles she was like to meet with in the way) is one great argument with her to put her forward on her journey. For she told me in so many words, 'The bitter goes before the sweet.' Yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter.

MRS. BAT'S-EYES. O, this blind and foolish woman! said she; will she not take warning by her husband's afflictions? For my part, I see, if he were here again, he would rest him content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing.

MRS. INCONSIDERATE also replied, saying, Away with such fantastical fools from the town! A good riddance, for my part, I say, of her. Should she stay where she dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly by her? for she will either be dumpish or unneighbourly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide; wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for her departure. Let her go, and let better come in her room. It was never a good world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it.

Then Mrs. Light-mind added as follows—Come, put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the maids. For whom do you think should be there, but I and Mrs. Love-the-flesh, and three or four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others. So there we had music, and dancing, and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And, I dare say, my lady, herself is an admirably well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow.

By this time, Christiana had got on her way, and Mercy went along with her. So as they went, her children being there also, Christiana began to discourse. And, Mercy, said Christiana, I take this as an unexpected favor, that thou shouldst set foot out of doors with me, to accompany me a little in my way.

MERCY. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), If I thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I would never go near the town any more.

CHRIST. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with me; I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage. My husband is where he would not be for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon my invitation. The King who hath sent for my children and me is one that delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along with me as my servant; yet we will have all things in common betwixt thee and me; only, go along with me.

MERCY. But how shall I be assured that I also shall be entertained? Had I this hope but from one that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would go, being helped by him that can help, though the way was never so tedious.

CHRIST. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do. Go with me to the wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for thee; and if there thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will be content that thou shalt return to thy place. I also will pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest to my children and me, in thy accompanying us in our way, as thou dost.

MERCY. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow; and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall, even as the King of Heaven shall have His heart upon me.

Christiana was then glad at her heart, not only that she had a companion, but also that she had prevailed upon this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation. So they went on together, and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Wherefore weepeth my Sister so?

MERCY. Alas! said she, who can but lament, that shall but rightly consider, what a state and condition my poor relations are in that yet remain in our sinful town? and that which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to come.

CHRIST. Bowels becometh pilgrims; and thou dost for thy friends as my good Christian did for me when he left me; he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him; but his Lord and ours did gather up after his tears and put them into His bottle; and now both I and thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. I hope, Mercy, these tears of thine will not be lost; for the truth hath said, that 'They that sow in tears shall reap in joy' in singing. And 'he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him' (Psa. 126:5, 6).

Then said, Mercy—

Let the Most Blessed be my guide,

If't be His blessed will;

Unto His gate, into His fold,

Up to His holy hill.

And let Him never suffer me

To swerve or turn aside

From His free grace and holy ways,

Whate'er shall me betide.

And let Him gather them of mine,

That I have left behind;

Lord, make them pray they may be Thine,

With all their heart and mind.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE SECOND PART. 1010

 

Then said the visitor, Christiana, " The bitter is before the sweet. Thou must through troubles, as did he that went before thee, enter this Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband. Go to the wicket-gate yonder, over the plain, for that stands in the head of the way up which thou must go, and I wish thee all good speed. Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom; that thou read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you have got it by rote of heart, for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage (Psa. 119:54); also this thou must deliver in at the further gate. Now I saw in my dream that this old gentleman, as he told me this story, did himself seem to be greatly affected therewith. He, moreover, proceeded and said, So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to address herself unto them: My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late under much exercise in my soul, about the death of your father; not for that I doubt at all of his happiness, for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have also been much affected by the thoughts of my own state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature miserable. My carriage, also, to your father in his distress, is a great load to my conscience; for I hardened both my own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage.

The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but for a dream which I had last night, and but for the encouragement that this stranger has given me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack up and begone to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country, that we may see your father, and be with him and his companions in peace, according to the laws of that land.

Then did her children burst out into tears for joy, that the heart of their mother was so inclined. So their visitor bade them farewell, and they began preparing to set out on their journey.

But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the women, who were Christiana's neighbors, came up to her house and knocked at her door. To whom she said as before, If you come in God's name, come in. At this, the women were stunned; for this kind of language they used not to hear, or to perceive, to drop from the lips of Christiana. Yet they came in; but, behold, they found the good woman a-preparing to be gone from her house.

So they began and said, Neighbor, pray, what is your meaning by this?

Christiana answered, saying to the eldest of them, whose name was Mrs. Timorous, "I am preparing for a journey." (This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the Hill Difficulty, and would have had him go back for fear of the lions).

Tim. For what journey, I pray you?

CHRIST. Even to go after my good husband. And with that, she fell a-weeping.

Tim. I hope not so, good neighbor; pray, for your poor children's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself.

CHRIST. Nay, my children shall go with me; not one of them is willing to stay behind.

Tim. I wonder, in my very heart, what, or who, has brought you into this mind.

CHRIST. Oh! neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would go with me.

Tim. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got, that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go, nobody knows where?

CHRIST. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since my husband's departure from me, but especially since he went over the river. But that which troubles me most is my churlish carriage to him when he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he was then; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I was dreaming last night that I saw him. O that my soul was with him! He dwelleth in the presence of the King of the country; he sits and eats with Him at His table; he is become a companion of immortals (1 Cor. 5:1-5), and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which the best palaces on earth, if compared, seem to me to be but as a dunghill. The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promise of entertainment if I shall come to Him; His messenger was here even now, and has brought me a letter, which invites me to come. And with that, she plucked out her letter, and read it, and said to them, What now will ye say to this?

Tim. O, the madness that has possessed thee and thy husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties! You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with, even, in a manner, at the first step that he took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate can yet testify, for he went along with him; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any further. We also heard, over and above, how he met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor is the danger that he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee; for if he, though a man, was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor woman, do? Consider also that these four sweet babes are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at home.

But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neighbor. I now have a price put into my hand to gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet with in the way, they are so far off from being to me a discouragement, that they show I am in the right. 'The bitter must come before the sweet,' and that also will make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore, since you came not to my house in God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me further.

Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow, Come, neighbor Mercy, let us leave her in her own hands, since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her neighbor, and that for a twofold reason. First, her bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said within herself, If my neighbor will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her and help her. Secondly, her bowels yearned over her own soul, for what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, I will yet have more talk with this Christiana, and if I find truth and life in what she shall say, myself with my heart shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbor Timorous.

MERCY. Neighbor, I did, indeed, come with you to see Christiana this morning; and since she is, as you see, a-taking of her last farewell of her country, I think to walk, this sun-shine morning, a little way with her, to help her on the way. But she told her not about the second reason, keeping that to herself.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE SECOND PART. 1009

 

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a truth? SAG. You need not fear to affirm it; I mean that they are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her four boys. And, being (we are, as I perceive, going some considerable way together, I will give you an account of the whole of the matter.

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she, with her children, betook themselves to a pilgrim's life), after her husband was gone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, nature can do no less but entertain the living with many a heavy cogitation in the remembrance of the loss of loving relations. This, therefore, of her husband did cost her many a tear. But this was not all, for Christiana also began to consider whether her unbecoming behavior towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him no more, and that, in such sort, he was taken away from her. And upon this came into her mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages to her dear friend; which also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much broken with calling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties, and loving persuasions, of her and her sons, to go with him; yea, there was not anything that Christian either said to her or did before her all the while that his burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her heart in sunder. Especially that bitter outcry of his, 'What shall I do to be saved?' did ring in her ears most dolefully.

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone. I have sinned away your father, and he is gone; he would have had us with him, but I would not go myself. I have also hindered you in life. With that, the boys all broke down in tears and cried out to go after their father. O! said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him, then had it fared well with us, beyond what it is like to do now; for though I formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humours; yet now it will not out of my mind but that they sprang from another cause, to wit, for that the Light of light was given him (James 1:23-25); by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the snares of death. Then they all wept again, and cried out, O woe worth the day!

The next night, Christiana had a dream; and, behold, she saw as if a broad parchment was opened before her, in which were recorded the sum of her ways (Luke 18:13); and the times, as she thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, 'Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner!' and the little children heard her.

After this, she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by her bedside, and saying, What shall we do with this woman? For she cries out for mercy, waking and sleeping; if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as we have lost her husband. Wherefore we must, by one way or other, seek to take her off from the thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the world cannot help it, but she will become a pilgrim.

Now she awoke in a great sweat, and a trembling was upon her; but after a while she fell to sleeping again. And then she thought she saw Christian, her husband, in a place of bliss, among many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and playing upon it before One that sat on a throne, with a rainbow about His head. She also saw as if he bowed his head, with his face to the paved work that was under the Prince's feet, saying, I heartily thank my Lord and King, for bringing me into this place. Then shouted a company of them that stood round about, and harped with their harps; but no man living could tell what they said, but Christian and his companions.

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard at the door, to whom she spake out, saying, If thou comest in God's name, come in. So he said, Amen, and opened the door, and saluted her with 'Peace be to this house.' The which, when he had done, he said, Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come? Then she blushed and trembled; also, her heart began to wax warm with desires to know whence he came, and what was his errand to her. So he said unto her, My name is Secret; I dwell with those that are high. It is talked of, where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go thither; also, there is a report that thou art aware of the evil thou hast formerly done to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart against his way, and in keeping of these thy babes in their ignorance.

Christiana, the Merciful One, has sent me to tell thee that He is a God ready to forgive, and that He taketh delight to multiply to pardon offenses. He also would have thee know, that He inviteth thee to come into His presence, to His table, and that He will feed thee with the fat of His house, and with the heritage of Jacob thy father.

There is Christian thy husband (that was), with legions more, his companions, ever beholding that face that doth minister life to beholders; and they will all be glad when they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's threshold.

Christiana, at this, was greatly abashed in herself, and, bowing her head to the ground, this Visitor proceeded and said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which I have brought from thy husband's King. So she took it and opened it, but it smelt after the manner of the best perfume (Song. 1:3); also it was written in letters of gold. The contents of the letter were that the King would have her do as did Christian, her husband, for that was the way to come to His city, and to dwell in His presence with joy forever. At this, the good woman was quite overcome; so she cried out to her visitor, Sir, will you carry my children and me with you, that we also may go and worship this King?

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE SECOND PART. 1008

 

THE SECOND PART.

COURTEOUS COMPANIONS,

SOME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me, and profitable to you. I told you then, also, what I saw concerning his wife and children, and how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch that he was forced to go on his progress without them; for he durst not run the danger of that destruction which he feared would come by staying with them in the City of Destruction. Wherefore, as I then showed you, he left them and departed.

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I have been much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after whom he left behind, that I might give you an account of them. But having had some concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood, about a mile off the place, as I slept, I dreamed again.

And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman came by where I lay; and because he was to go some part of the way that I was traveling, methought I got up and went with him. So as we walked, and as travelers usually do, I was as if we fell into discourse, and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels; for thus I began with the old man:

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth on the left hand of our way?

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), It is the City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people.

I thought that was that city, quoth I; I went once myself through that town, and, therefore, know that this report you give of it is true.

SAG. Too true; I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell therein.

Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man; and so one that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what happened to a man some time ago in this town, whose name was Christian, who went on pilgrimage up towards the higher regions?

SAG. Hear of him! Aye, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears that he met with and had in his journey; besides, I must tell you, all our country rings of him. There are but few houses that have heard of him and his doings but have sought after and got the records of his pilgrimage; yea, I think I may say that that his hazardous journey, has got a many well-wishers to his ways; for though, when he was here, he was fool in every man's mouth, yet, now he is gone, he is highly commended of all. For it is said, he lives bravely where he is; yea, many of them that are resolved never to run his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his gains.

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything that is true, that he liveth well where he is; for he now lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has without labor and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed therewith. [But, pray, what talk have the people about him?

SAG. Talk! the people talk strangely about him; some say that he now walks in white (Rev. 3:4; 6:11); that he has a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. Others say that the Shining Ones, who sometimes showed themselves to him in his journey, have become his companions, and that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is as a neighbor is with another. Besides, it is confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court (Zech. 3:7); and that he every day eateth (Luke 14:15), and drinketh, and walketh, and talketh with Him; and receiveth of the smiles and favours of Him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shortly come into these parts, and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbours set so little by him, and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim (Jude 14, 15). For, they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Christian, when he became a pilgrim, that He will look upon all as if done unto Himself; and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did (Luke 10:16).

I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on it; I am glad for the poor man's sake, for that he now has rest from his labour (Rev. 14:13); and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his tears with joy (Psa. 126:5, 6); and for that he has got beyond the gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them that hate him. I also am glad, for that a rumor of these things is noised abroad in this country; who can tell but that it may work some good effect on some that are left behind? But, pray, Sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and children? Poor hearts! I wonder in my mind what they do.

SAG. Who! Christiana and her sons? They are likely to do as well as did Christian himself; for though they all played the fool at the first, and would by no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them; so they have packed up, and are also gone after him.

Better and better, quoth I. But what! wife and children, and all? SAG. It is true; I can give you an account of the matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE SECOND PART. 1007

 

WHEREIN IS SET FORTH THE MANNER OF THE SETTING OUT OF CHRISTIAN'S WIFE AND CHILDREN, THEIR DANGEROUS JOURNEY, AND SAFE ARRIVAL AT THE DESIRED COUNTRY.

By JOHN BUNYAN.

'I have used similitudes.'—Hosea 12:10.

London: Printed for Nathaniel Ponder, at the Peacock in the Poultry, near the Church, 1684.

THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM.

Go now, my little book, to every place,
Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face,
Call at their door. If anyone says, "Who's there?"
Then answer thou, CHRISTIANA is here.
If they bid thee come in, then enter thou,
With all thy boys; and then, as thou know'st how,
Tell who they are, also from whence they came;
Perhaps they know them by their looks or name.
But if they should not, ask them yet again
If formerly they did not entertain
One CHRISTIAN, a Pilgrim? If they say
They did, and were delighted in his way:
Then let them know that those related were
Unto him, yea, his wife and children are.

Tell them that they have left their house and home,
Are turned Pilgrims, seek a world to come;
That they have met with hardships in the way,
That they do meet with troubles night and day;
That they have trodden on serpents, fought with devils,
Have also overcome many evils.
Yeah, tell them also of the next, who have
Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave
Defenders of that way, and how they still
Refuse this world, to do their Father's will.

Go, tell them also of those dainty things,
That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings.
Let them be acquainted, too, with how they are
Beloved of their King, under His care:
What goodly mansions for them He provides,
Tho' they meet with rough winds and swelling tides,
How brave a calm they will enjoy at last,
Who to their Lord, and by His ways hold fast.

Perhaps with heart and hand, they will embrace
They, as they did my firstling, and will grace
Thee, and thy fellows, with such cheer and fare,
As shown, the lovers of Pilgrims are.

OBJECTION 1.
But how, if they will not believe in me
That I am truly thine; cause some there be
That counterfeits the Pilgrim and his name,
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same;
And by that means have wrought themselves into
The hands and houses of I know not who?

ANSWER.
'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set;[
Yeah, others, half my name and title too
Have stitched to their book, to make them do;
But yet they, by their features, do declare
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are.

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way
Before them all, is, to say out thy say,
In thine own native language, which no man
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can.
If, after all, you still doubt,
Thinking that you, like gipsies, go about

In a naughty way, the country to defile,
Or that you seek good people to beguile
With things unwarrantable, send for me,
And I will testify you PILGRIMS be.
Yeah, I will testify that only you
My Pilgrims are, and that alone will do.

OBJECTION 2
But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him,
Of those that wish him damned, life and limb.
What shall I do when I am at such a door
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more?[2]

ANSWER.
Fright not thyself, my book, for such bugbears
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears.
My Pilgrim's book has traveled sea and land,
Yet could I never come to understand
That it was slighted, or turn'd out of door
By any kingdom, whether they were rich or poor.

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother.
In Holland too, 'tis said, as I am told,
My Pilgrim is worth more than gold.

Highlanders and wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrim should be familiar with them.
'Tis in New England under such advance,
Receives so much loving countenance,
As to be trimm'd, new cloth'd, and deck'd with gems
That it may show its features and its limbs,
Yet more, so comely doth my Pilgrim walk,
That of him thousands daily sing and talk.[3]

If you draw nearer home, it will appear,
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear;
City and country will entertain him
With, Welcome Pilgrim; yea, they can't refrain
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by,
Or shows his head in any company.

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love,
Esteem it much, yea, value it above
Things of a greater bulk: yea, with delight,
Say, My lark's leg is better than a kite.

Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too,
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show.
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts,
My Pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains,
As yields them profit double to their pains
Of reading; yea, I think, I may be bold
To say, some prize him far above their gold.

The very children that do walk the street,
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,
Salute him well, will wish him well, and say,
He is the only stripling of the day.

They that have never seen him, yet admire
What they have heard of him, and much desire
To have his company, and hear him tell
Those pilgrim stories which he knows so well.

Yea, some who did not love him at the first,
But called him fool and noddy, say they must,
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend
And to those whom they love, they do him send.[4]

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be
Afraid to show thy head; none can hurt thee,
That wish but well to him that went before,
'Cause thou com'st after with a second store
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable,
For young, for old, for stagg'ring, and for stable.

OBJECTION 3.
But some there he that say, He laughs too loud
And some do say, His head is in a cloud.
Some say, His words and stories are so dark,
They know not how, by them, to find his mark.

ANSWER.
One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries,
May well be guess'd at by his wat'ry eyes.
Some things are of that nature, as to make
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep,
He did at the same time both kiss and weep.

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head,
That doth but show how wisdom's covered
With its own mantles, and to stir the mind
To a search after what it fain would find.
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure,
Do but the godly mind the more allure
To study what those sayings should contain,
That speaks to us in such a cloudy strain.

I also know a dark similitude
Will on the fancy more itself intrude,
And will stick faster in the heart and head,
Than things from similes not borrowed.
Wherefore, my book, let no discouragement
Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent
To friends, not foes; to friends that will give place
To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left concealed
Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd;
What CHRISTIAN left lock'd up, and went his way,
Sweet CHRISTIANA opens with her key.[5]

OBJECTION 4.
But some love not the method of your first;
Romance they count it, throw't away as dust,
If I should meet with such, what should I say?
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?

ANSWER.
My CHRISTIANA, if with such thou meet,
By all means, in all loving-wise, they greet;
Render them not reviling for revile;
But if they frown, I prithee on them smile;
Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report,
Has made them thus despise, or thus retort.

Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and some
Love not their friends, nor their own house or home;
Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl,
More than they love a cuckoo, or an owl;
Leave such, my CHRISTIANA, to their choice,
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice;
By no means strive, but in a humble way,
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise.

Go, then, my little book, and show to all
That entertain, and bid thee welcome shall,
What thou shalt keep close, shut up from the rest,
And wish what thou shalt show them may be blest
To them for good, may make them choose to be
Pilgrims better by far than thee or me.

Go, then, I say, tell all men who thou art;
Say, I am CHRISTIANA, and my part
Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what
It is for men to take a pilgrim's lot.

Go also, tell them who and what they are,
That now do go on pilgrimage with thee;
Say, here's my neighbor, Mercy, she is one
That has long been with me, a Pilgrim gone.
Come, see her in her virgin race, and learn
'Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern.
Yeah, let young damsels learn from her to prize
The world which is to come, in any wise.
When little tripping maidens follow God,
And leave old doting sinners to His rod;
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried,
Hosanna! to whom old ones did deride.

Next, tell them of old Honest, whom you found
With his white hair, treading the Pilgrim's ground.
Yeah, tell them how plain-hearted this man was,
How after his good Lord, he bore his cross.
Perhaps with some gray hair, this may prevail
With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail.

Tell them also how Master Fearing went
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent
In solitariness, with fears and cries;
And how, at last, he won the joyful prize.
He was a good man, though much down in spirit,
He is a good man, and doth life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also,
Who, not before, but still behind, would go.
Show them also how he had been slain,
And how one Great-heart did his life regain.
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace,
One might read true godliness in his face.

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-halt,
A man with crutches, but much without fault;
Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he
Did love, and in opinions much agree.
And let all know, though weakness was their chance,
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth,
That man of courage, though a very young man.
Tell everyone his spirit was so stout,
No man could ever make him face about;
And how he and Greatheart could not forbear,
But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair.

Overlook not Master Despondency,
Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie
Under such mantles as may make them look
(With some) as if their God had forsaken them.
They softly went, but sure, and at the end,
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend.
When thou hast told the world of all these things,
Then turn about, my book, and touch these strings,
Which, if but touch'd, will such music make,
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake.

These riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast,
Freely propound, expound, and for the rest
Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain
For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. Now may this little book be a blessing
To those who love this little book and me;
And may its buyer have no cause to say,
His money is lost or thrown away.
Yea, may this Second Pilgrim yield that fruit,
As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit;
And may it persuade some that go astray,
To turn their feet and heart to the right way,
Is the hearty prayer of
 The Author,

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS; IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 1006

The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory of the place, who told them that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is the "Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect" (Heb. 12:22-24). You are going now, said they, to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof; and when you come there, you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity (Rev. 2:7; 3:4; 22:5). There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, "for the former things are passed away." 

You are now going to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the prophets, men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness[324] (Isa. 57:1, 2; 65:17). The men then asked, What must we do in the holy place? To whom it was answered, You must there receive the comforts of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the King by the way (Gal. 6:7). In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One, for "there you shall see Him as He is" (1 John 3:2). There also you shall serve Him continually with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh. 

There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone thither before you; and there you shall with joy receive, even every one that follows into the holy place after you. There also shall you be clothed with glory and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of glory. When He shall come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come with Him; and when He shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you shall sit by Him; yea, and when He shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because they were His and your enemies (1 Thess. 4:13-17; Jude 14; Dan. 7:9, 10; 1 Cor. 6:2, 3). Also, when He shall again return to the city, you shall go too, with the sound of a trumpet, and be ever with Him.

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them; to whom it was said, by the other two Shining Ones, These are the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the world, and that have left all for His holy name; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, "Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb" (Rev. 19:9). There came out also at this time to meet them, several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises, and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with 10,000 welcomes from the world; and this they did with shouting, and the sound of trumpets.

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were to guard them through the upper regions), continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight was to them that could behold it, as if Heaven itself was come down to meet them. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother, how welcome they were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them; and now were these two men, as it were, in Heaven, before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had the city itself in view, and they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there, with such company, and that forever and ever. O, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed! And thus they came up to the gate.

Now, when they came up to the gate, there was written over it in letters of gold, "Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city" (Rev. 22:14).

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate; the which, when they did, some looked from above over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, &c., to whom it was said, These pilgrims are come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this place; and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate, which they had received in the beginning; those, therefore, were carried into the King, who, when He had read them, said, Where are the men? To whom it was answered, They are standing without the gate. The King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous nation," said He, "which keepeth the truth, may enter in" (Isa. 26:2).

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate; and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There were also those who met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them, the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, "ENTER YE INTO THE JOY OF YOUR LORD." I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, "BLESSING, AND HONOUR, AND GLORY, AND POWER, BE UNTO HIM THAT SITTETH UPON THE THRONE, AND UNTO THE LAMB, FOREVER AND EVER" (Rev. 5:13).

Now just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and, behold, the City shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal. There were also some of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord" (Rev. 4:8). And after that, they shut up the gates, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the riverside; but he soon got over, and that without half that difficulty which the other two men met with. For it happened that there was then in that place, one Vain-hope, a ferryman, that with his boat helped him over; so he, as the other I saw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate, only he came alone; neither did any man meet him with the least encouragement. When he came up to the gate, he looked up at the writing above, and then began to knock, supposing that entrance should have been quickly granted to him; but he was asked by the men who looked over the top of the gate, Whence came you? and what would you have? He answered, I have eaten and drunk in the presence of the King, and He has taught in our streets. Then they asked him for his certificate, that they might go in and show it to the King; so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said they, Have you none? But the man answered never a word. So they told the King, but He would not come down to see him, but commanded the two Shining Ones that conducted Christian and Hopeful to the City, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away. Then they took him up, and carried him through the air, to the door that I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of Heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction! So I awoke, and behold it was a dream.

THE CONCLUSION.

Now, READER, I have told my dream to thee; See if thou canst interpret it to me, Or to thyself, or neighbor; but take heed Of misinterpreting; for that, instead Of doing good, will but thyself abuse: By misinterpreting, evil ensues.

Take heed also, that thou be not extreme, In playing with the outside of my dream: Nor let my figure or similitude Put thee into a laughter or a feud. Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee, Do thou the substance of my matter see.

Put by the curtains, look within my veil, Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail; There, if thou seekest them, such things to find, As will be helpful to an honest mind.

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold To throw away, but yet preserve the gold; What if my gold be wrapped up in ore?—None throws away the apple for the core. But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, I know not but 'twill make me dream again.

THE END OF THE FIRST PART.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS; IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 1005

 

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which they were bound; and drawing near to the city, they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was built of pearls and precious stones, also the street thereof was paved with gold; so that by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick. Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease. Wherefore, here they lay by it a while, crying out, because of their pangs, "If ye find my Beloved, tell Him that I am sick of love" (Song. 5:8).

But being a little strengthened and better able to bear their sickness, they walked on their way and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up to these places, behold, the gardener stood in the way, to whom the Pilgrims said, Whose goodly vineyards and gardens are these? He answered, They are the King's, and are planted here for His own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims. So the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties (Deut. 23:24). He also showed them there the King's walks, and the arbors, where He delighted to be; and here they tarried and slept.

Now I beheld in my dream that they talked more in their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their journey; and being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me, Wherefore musest thou at the matter? It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards to go down so sweetly, as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to speak.

So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go up to the city. But, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city (for "the city was pure gold)," (Rev. 21:18), was so extremely glorious, that they could not, as yet, with open face behold it, but through an instrument made for that purpose (2 Cor. 3:18). So I saw, that as they went on, there met them two men, in raiment that shone like gold; also their faces shone as the light.

These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came, and they told them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had met in the way; and they told them. Then said the men that met them, You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the city.

Christian and his companion then asked the men to go along with them, so they told them they would. But, said they, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they went on together, until they came in sight of the gate.

Now, I further saw that between them and the gate was a river, but there was no bridge to go over; the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river, the Pilgrims were much stunned: but the men that went with them said, You must go through, or you cannot come at the gate.

The Pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate; to which they answered, Yes; but there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path, since the foundation of the world, nor shall, until the last trumpet shall sound (1 Cor. 15:51, 52). The Pilgrims then, especially Christians, began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by them by which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of a depth. They said, No; yet they could not help them in that case; for, said they, you shall find it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place.

They then addressed themselves to the water, and, entering, Christian began to sink, and, crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head; all his waves go over me! Selah.

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then, said Christian, Ah! my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed me about." I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey, and with that, a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also, here he in great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as those who stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil spirits; for ever and anon, he would intimate so much by words. Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head above water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up again half dead. Hopeful also would endeavor to comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us; but Christian would answer, It is you, it is you they wait for; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, brother! said he, surely if I were right, He would now arise to help me; but for my sins, He hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgotten the text, where it is said of the wicked, 'There are no bands in their death; but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued like other men" (Psa. 73:4, 5). These troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters are no sign that God hath forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you have received of His goodness, and live upon Him in your distresses.

Then I saw in my dream that Christian was in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added this word, Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole; and with that Christian brake out with a loud voice, O! I see Him again, and He tells me, "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee" (Isa. 43:2). Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian, therefore, presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was but shallow. Thus, they got over. Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them; wherefore, being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying, We are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation. Thus, they went along towards the gate. Now you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill, but the Pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; also, they had left their mortal garments behind them in the river, for though they went in with them, they came out without them. They, therefore, went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher than the clouds. They, therefore, went up through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS; IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 1004

 

HOPE. Know him! Yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback.

CHR. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that man was much awakened once; I believe that then he had some sight of his sins, and of the wages that were due thereto.

HOPE. I am of your mind, for my house not being above three miles from his, he would oftentimes come to me, and that with many tears. Truly, I pitied the man, and was not altogether without hope of him; but one may see, it is not everyone that cries, Lord, Lord.

CHR. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage, as we do now; but all of a sudden, he grew acquainted with one Save-self, and then he became a stranger to me.

HOPE. Now, since we are talking about him, let us inquire a little into the reason for the sudden backsliding of him and such others.

CHR. It may be very profitable, but do you begin?

HOPE. Well then, there are in my judgment four reasons for it-

1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds are not changed; therefore, when the power of guilt weareth away, that which provoked them to be religious ceaseth, wherefore they naturally turn to their own course again, even as we see the dog that is sick of what he has eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, he vomits and casts up all; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach; but now, when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased, his desire being not at all alienate from his vomit, he turns him about and licks up all, and so it is true which is written, "The dog is turned to his own vomit again" (2 Peter 2:22). Thus I say, being hot for Heaven, by virtue only of the sense and fear of the torments of hell, as their sense of hell, and the fears of damnation, chills and cools, so their desires for Heaven and salvation cool also. So then it comes to pass that when their guilt and fear are gone, their desires for Heaven and happiness die, and they return to their course again.

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them; I speak now of the fears that they have of men, for "the fear of man bringeth a snare" (Prov. 29:25). So then, though they seem to be hot for Heaven, so long as the flames of hell are about their ears, yet, when that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second thoughts; namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they know not what) the hazard of losing all, or, at least, of bringing themselves into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles, and so they fall in with the world again.

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their way; they are proud and haughty, and religion in their eye is low and contemptible; therefore, when they have lost their sense of hell and wrath to come, they return again to their former course.

4. Guilt and meditate terror are grievous to them. They like not to see their misery before they come into it; though perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that sight, might make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe. But because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts of guilt and terror, therefore, when once they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God, they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden them more and more.

CHR. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of all is, for want of a change in their mind and will. And therefore they are but like the felon that standeth before the judge, he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most heartily, but the bottom of all is the fear of the halter; not that he hath any detestation of the offence, as is evident, because, let but this man have his liberty, and he will be a thief, and so a rogue still, whereas, if his mind were changed, he would be otherwise.

HOPE. Now, I have shown you the reasons for their going back, do you show me the manner thereof.

CHR. So I will, willingly.

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the remembrance of God, death, and judgment to come.

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, such as closet prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the like.

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians.

4. After that, they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading, godly conference, and the like.

5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of some of the godly; and that devilishly, that they may have a seeming color to throw religion (for the sake of some infirmity they have espied in them) behind their backs.

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves with, carnal, loose, and wanton men.

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret; and glad are they if they can see such things in any that are counted honest, that they may the more boldly do it through their example.

8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly.

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a miracle of grace prevents it, they everlastingly perish in their own deceivings.

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there for a season (Isa. 62:4). Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land (Song. 2:10-12). In this country, the sun shineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair, neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle.

Here they were within sight of the city they were going to, and here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of Heaven. In this land also the contract between the bride and the bridegroom was renewed; yea, here, "As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so did their God rejoice over them" (Isa. 62:5). Here they had no want of corn and wine; for in this place they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimage (v. 8). Here they heard voices from out of the city, loud voices, saying, "Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh! Behold, His reward is with Him!" (v. 11). Here all the inhabitants of the country called them, "The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord, Sought out," &c. (v. 12).

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS; IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 1003

 

IGNOR. What! would you have us trust to what Christ, in His own person, has done without us? This conceit would loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate us to live as we list; for what matter how we live, if we may be justified by Christ's personal righteousness from all, when we believe it?

CHR. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou; even this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it, from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this righteousness of Christ, which is, to bow and win over the heart to God in Christ, to love His name, His Word, ways, and people, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest.

HOPE. Ask him if he has ever had Christ revealed to him from Heaven.

IGNOR. What! You are a man for revelations! I believe that what both you and all the rest of you say about that matter is but the fruit of distracted brains.

HOPE. Why, man! Christ is so hid in God from the natural apprehensions of the flesh, that He cannot by any man be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals Him to them.

IGNOR. That is your faith, but not mine; yet mine, I doubt not, is as good as yours, though I have not in my head so many whimsies as you.

CHR. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so slightly to speak of this matter; for this I will boldly affirm, even as my good companion hath done, that no man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation of the Father (Matt. 11:27); yea, and faith too, by which the soul layeth hold upon Christ, if it be right, must be wrought by the exceeding greatness of His mighty power; the working of which faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of (1 Cor. 12:3; Eph 1:18, 19). Be awakened then, see thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus; and by His righteousness, which is the righteousness of God, for He Himself is God, thou shalt be delivered from condemnation.

IGNOR. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you. Do you go on before; I must stay a while behind.

Then they said-

Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, To slight good counsel, ten times given thee? And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know, Ere long, the evil of thy doing so. Remember, man, in time, stoop, do not fear; Good counsel taken well, saves: therefore hear. But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be the loser (Ignorance) I'll warrant thee.

Then Christian addressed himself to his fellow-

CHR. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou and I must walk by ourselves again.

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and Ignorance he came bobbling after. Then said Christian to his companion, It pities me much for this poor man, it will certainly go ill with him at last.

HOPE. Alas! There is an abundance in our town in this condition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and that of pilgrims too; and if there be so many in our parts, how many, think you, must there be in the place where he was born?

CHR. Indeed, the Word saith, "He hath blinded their eyes, lest they should see," &c. But now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men? Have they at no time, think you, convictions of sin, and so consequently fears that their state is dangerous?

HOPE. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are the elder man.

CHR. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may; but they being naturally ignorant, understand not that such convictions tend to their good; and therefore they do desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves in the way of their own hearts.

HOPE. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men's good, and to make them right, at their beginning to go on pilgrimage.

CHR. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right; for so says the Word, "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (Prov. 1:7; 9:10; Psa. 111:10; Job. 28:28).

HOPE. How will you describe the right fear?

CHR. True or right fear is discovered by three things-

1. By its rise, it is caused by saving convictions for sin.

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation.

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of God, his Word, and ways, keeping it tender, and making it afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or to the left, to anything, that may dishonor God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak reproachfully.

HOPE. Well said; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost past the Enchanted Ground?

CHR. Why, art thou weary of this discourse?

HOPE. No, verily, but that I would know where we are.

CHR. We have not now above two miles further to go thereon. But let us return to our matter. Now the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend to put them in fear are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them.

HOPE. How do they seek to stifle them?

CHR. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the devil (though indeed they are wrought of God); and, thinking so, they resist them as things that directly tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith, when, alas for them, poor men that they are, they have none at all! and therefore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought not to fear; and therefore, in spite of them, wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see that those fears tend to take away from them their pitiful old self-holiness, and therefore they resist them with all their might.

HOPE. I know something of this myself; for, before I knew myself, it was so with me.

CHR. Well, we will leave. At this time, our neighbors are Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another profitable question.

HOPE. With all my heart, but you shall still begin.

CHR. Well then, did you not know that about 10 years ago, there was a Temporary in your parts who was a forward man in religion?

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS; IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 1002

 

I saw then in my dream that Hopeful looked back and saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming after. Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder youngster loitereth behind.

CHR. Aye, aye, I see him; he careth not for our company.

HOPE. But I think it would not have hurt him, had he kept pace with us hitherto.

CHR. That is true, but I warrant you he thinketh otherwise.

HOPE. That I think he doth; but, however, let us tarry for him.
So they did.

Then Christian said to him, Come away, man, why do you stay so behind?

IGNOR. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great deal than in company, unless I like it the better.

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), Did I not tell you he cared not for our company? But, however, said he, come up, and let us talk away the time in this solitary place. Then, directing his speech to Ignorance, he said, Come, how do you? How stands it between God and your soul now?

IGNOR. I hope well, for I am always full of good motions that come into my mind to comfort me as I walk (Prov. 28:26).

CHR. What good motions? Pray, tell us.

IGNOR. Why, I think of God and Heaven.

CHR. So do the devils and damned souls.

IGNOR. But I think of them, and desire them.

CHR. So do many that are never like to come there. "The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing" (Prov. 13:4).

IGNOR. But I think of them, and leave all for them.

CHR. That I doubt; for leaving all is a hard matter; yea, a harder matter than many are aware of. But why, or by what, art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for God and Heaven?

IGNOR. My heart tells me so.

CHR. The wise man says, "He that trusts his own heart is a fool."
(Prov. 28:26).

IGNOR. This is spoken of as an evil heart, but mine is a good one.

CHR. But how dost thou prove that?

IGNOR. It comforts me in hopes of Heaven.

CHR. That may be through its deceitfulness; for a man's heart may minister comfort to him in the hopes of that thing, for which he yet has no ground to hope.

IGNOR. But my heart and life agree together, and therefore my hope is well grounded.

CHR. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together?

IGNOR. My heart tells me so.

CHR. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells thee so! Except the Word of God beareth witness in this matter, other testimony is of no value.

IGNOR. But is it not a good heart that hath good thoughts? And is not that a good life, that is according to God's commandments?

CHR. Yea, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that is a good life that is according to God's commandments; but it is one thing, indeed, to have these, and another thing only to think so.

IGNOR. Pray, what counts as good thoughts and a life according to God's commandments?

CHR. There are good thoughts of diverse kinds; some respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some other thing.

IGNOR. What are good thoughts about ourselves?

CHR. Such as agree with the Word of God.

IGNOR. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of
God?

CHR. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves that the Word passes. To explain myself-the Word of God saith of persons in a natural condition, "There is none righteous, there is none that doeth good" (Rom. 3). It saith also, that "every imagination of the heart of man is only evil, and that continually" (Gen. 6:5). And again, "The imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth" (Gen. 8:21). Now then, when we think thus of ourselves, having sense thereof then are our thoughts good ones, because according to the Word of God.

IGNOR. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad.

CHR. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning thyself in thy life. But let me go on. As the Word passeth a judgment upon our heart, so it passeth a judgment upon our ways; and when our thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with the judgment which the Word giveth of both, then are both good, because agreeing thereto.

IGNOR. Make out your meaning.

CHR. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are crooked ways; not good, but perverse (Psa. 125; Prov. 2:15). It saith they are naturally out of the good way, that they have not known it (Rom. 3). Now, when a man thus thinketh of his ways; I say, when he doth sensibly, and with heart humiliation, thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own ways, because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the Word of God.

IGNOR. What are good thoughts concerning God?

CHR. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts of God do agree with what the Word saith of Him; and that is, when we think of His being and attributes as the Word hath taught, of which I cannot now discourse at large; but to speak of Him with reference to us: Then we have right thoughts of God, when we think that He knows us better than we know ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where we can see none in ourselves; when we think He knows our inmost thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, is always open unto His eyes; also, when we think that all our righteousness stinks in His nostrils, and that, therefore, He cannot abide to see us stand before Him in any confidence, even in all our best performances.

IGNOR. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think God can see no further than I, or that I would come to God in the best of my performances?

CHR. Why, how dost thou think in this matter?

IGNOR. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ for justification.

CHR. How! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou seest not thy need of Him! Thou neither seest thy original nor actual infirmities; but hast such an opinion of thyself, and of what thou dost, as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see a necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before God. How, then, dost thou say, I believe in Christ?

IGNOR. I believe well enough for all that.

CHR. How dost thou believe?

IGNOR. I believe that Christ died for sinners and that I shall be justified before God from the curse through His gracious acceptance of my obedience to His law. Or thus, Christ makes my duties, that are religious, acceptable to His Father, by virtue of His merits; and so shall I be justified.

CHR. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith.

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith; for this faith is nowhere described in the Word.

2. Thou believest with a false faith, because it taketh justification from the personal righteousness of Christ, and applies it to thy own.

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, but of thy actions; and of thy person for thy actions' sake, which is false.

4. Therefore, this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee under wrath, in the day of God Almighty; for true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its lost condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness, which righteousness of His is not an act of grace, by which He maketh, for justification, thy obedience accepted with God; but His personal obedience to the law, in doing and suffering for us what that required at our hands; this righteousness, I say, true faith accepteth; under the skirt of which, the soul being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it is accepted, and acquit from condemnation.