_Their care of the poor and sick.
Their hospitality. Their patience._
1. THE church took care of all who were unable to help themselves, of
whatever age or sex: the blind, the lame, the maimed, the decrepit;
and these they esteemed the treasure of the church. They took likewise
a particular care of children; not only of the orphan children of
Christians, but of those whom their Heathen parents exposed, and
indeed of all others they could procure. Their end in all was, by
means of temporal, to lead them to spiritual good. Therefore, in like
circumstances, they relieved a Christian before a Heathen, and of
Christians, the most holy first. For this every church had a common
stock, which the deacons distributed according to the orders of the
bishop, after giving him an account of the conduct as well as wants
of the people committed to his charge.
2. And as soon as a stranger shewed, that he was in the communion
of the church, he was received with open arms: for which end the
Christians who travelled, took letters of their bishop, declaring the
condition of the bearer: whether he was a _catechumen_, a _penitent_,
or one of the _faithful_: beside which, there were recommendatory
letters, to distinguish priests, deacons, confessors, and those who
stood in need of any particular assistance.
3. Not that their hospitality was confined to their brethren. It
extended to all, Heathens as well as Christians. Of which we have
a remarkable instance in the case of St. _Pacomius_, a young _Roman_
captain, who being upon his march with his men, and taking up his
quarters in a city they came to, was amazed to find the inhabitants
receive them with as much affection, as if they had been their old
friends. He enquired who they were? And was answered, they were a
people of a particular religion, called _Christians_. He desired to
be informed, what the grounds of this religion were? And this was the
beginning of his conversion.
*4. But their care and tenderness toward the sick, was yet more
observable. No difficulty, no danger, no discouragements could
prevent their ministring to these. When _Alexandria_ was dreadfully
afflicted with the plague, in the time of the Emperor _Valerian_, they
confirmed their love even to their persecutors, by assisting such as
were infected, though many of them died with them. And the priests
constantly visited the sick Christians, administered the holy eucharist,
prayed with them and for them, exhorted, comforted, and commended their
souls to God. They did not fear, but desire death, as only the gate
of eternity. And even when their relations went before them, they less
grieved for their own present loss, than they rejoiced for their happy
deliverance, and in a stedfast hope of meeting them again in paradise.
*5. Such were the manners of the _ancient Christians_: such were
the followers of Jesus Christ, both in _faith_ and _practice_, while
Heathenism reigned, and persecution continued. This obliged them to a
continual sense of the presence of God and watchfulness over themselves:
every one expecting the hour when he should be betrayed by his wife,
his child, or his nearest relation. And herein was seen the patience
of the _saints_, then a common name for all Christians. Even in peace
they daily looked for the return of war: nor was that peace itself ever
entire, for many Christians suffered, even to blood, where there was
no open persecution: and many of them were spoiled and pillaged with
impunity even at noon-day. Or, if oppression and violence ceased for
awhile, contempt and hate never ceased. To speak and write all manner
of evil of the Christians, to revile, to mock at them, to turn them
into ridicule: this was not only permitted, but approved, applauded,
authorized. But this moved them not: neither unjust contempt, nor
ill-grounded calumnies drew from them any murmuring or complaint.
They continually returned good for evil. They laboured, if it had been
possible, to live peaceably with all men. They studied all ways of
gaining their affections. They conformed to all their innocent customs.
And of so doing, they were never tired, never overcome with evil, even
where they could not overcome evil with good.
6. Their patience shone most with regard to princes and magistrates.
Nothing could force them, to _speak evil of dignities_. They honoured
them as the ministers of God. They paid them all the obedience, which
consisted with their duty to him. Prest as they were by such injustice
and unheard-of cruelties, they never thought of taking up arms for
their defence. So far from it, that as numerous as the Christian
soldiers were in all the _Roman_ armies, they never made use of the
arms they had in their hands, but according to the orders of their
generals. Nay, we see the entire legion of St. _Mauritius_, known by
the name of the _Thebæan_ legion, suffering themselves to be massacred
without resistance, rather than be wanting in their duty to God or
_Cæsar_.
7. This invincible patience forced at length all the powers of the
world to submit to the gospel. The persecutions continued, till in
little more than _three hundred_ years, there was a prodigious number
of Christians of all ranks and conditions. And hence came the extreme
cruelty of the last persecution. But this like all the rest, only
extended Christianity farther, and established it so much the more
firmly, till the Emperor _Constantine_ declared himself its protector.
The _Christians_ then began to live at ease, but at the same time they
_began_ to lose the _Christian spirit_. The _world_ mixing with the
_church_, effected as a friend what it never could while an open enemy:
it transfused its own spirit into the servants of Christ, who became
insensibly _lovers of the world_, lovers of themselves, and _lovers
of pleasure more than lovers of God_. For with the _love of the world_
entered every _unholy_ desire, every _earthly_, _sensual_, _devilish_
passion: which from that time have abounded more and more, and so shall
do, till the time approaches for the restitution of all things.
THE
DOCTRINE of SALVATION,
FAITH and GOOD WORKS:
Extracted from the _Homilies_ of the _Church_ of _England_.
To the READER.
_HE that desires more perfectly to understand these great doctrines of
Christianity, ought deligently to read the holy scriptures, especially
St. |Paul|’s epistles to the |Romans| and the |Galatians|. And,
“whosoever giveth his mind to holy scriptures, with deligent study and
burning desire, it cannot be that he should be left without help. For
either God will send him some godly doctor to teach him, or God himself,
from above, will give light unto his mind, and teach him those things
which are necessary for him: man’s human and worldly wisdom or science
is not needful to the understanding of scripture; but the revelation
of the Holy Ghost, who inspireth the true meaning into them that which
humility and deligence search for it.”¹_
¹ Homily _of reading the_ holy scriptures.
_Of the salvation of mankind._
1. BECAUSE all men are sinners against God, and breakers of his law,
therefore can no man by his works be justified and made righteous
before God. But every man is constrained to seek for another
righteousness, or justification, to be received at God’s own hands. And
this justification, or righteousness, which we receive of God’s mercy,
and Christ’s merits embraced by faith, is taken, accepted, and allowed
of God for our perfect and full justification. For the more clear and
full understanding hereof, it is our part ever to remember, how that
all the world, being wrapt in sin, God sent his only Son into the world,
by shedding his blood, to make satisfaction to his Father for our sins,
to asswage his indignation conceived against us.
2. Insomuch that infants being baptized, and dying in their infancy,
are by this sacrifice washed from their sins. And they who in act or
deed sin after their baptism, when they turn again to God unfeignedly,
are likewise washed by this sacrifice from their sins, in such sort
that there remaineth not any spot of sin, that shall be imputed to
their damnation. This is that justification, which St. _Paul_ speaketh
of, (_Galatians ii._) _No man is justified by the works of the law: but
by faith in Jesus Christ_. And again, _we are justified by the faith
of Christ, and not by the works of the law: for by the works of the law
shall no flesh be justified_.
3. The great wisdom of God in this mystery of our redemption, hath
tempered his justice and mercy together. His mercy he sheweth, in
delivering us from our captivity, without requiring any ransom to be
paid, or amends to be made on our parts; which thing by us had been
impossible to be done. And whereas it lay not in us to do that, he
provided a ransom for us, that was, the precious body and blood of his
own Son. And so the justice of God and his mercy together, fulfilled
the great mystery of our redemption.
4. Of this justice and mercy of God knit together, speaketh St. _Paul_
in the third chapter to the _Romans_. _All have sinned and come short
of the glory of God: but are justified freely by his grace, through
the redemption that is in Jesus Christ: whom God hath set forth to be a
propitiation, through faith in his blood._ And in the 10th, _Christ is
the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth_: And
in the 8th chapter, _That which was impossible by the law, inasmuch as
it is weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness
of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh: that the
righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after
the flesh but after the spirit_.
5. In these places the apostle toucheth especially three things, which
must go together in our justification. Upon God’s part, his great
mercy and grace; upon Christ’s part, the satisfaction of God’s justice,
by the offering his body, and shedding his blood; and upon our part,
true and lively faith in the merits of Jesus Christ. So that in our
justification there is not only God’s mercy and grace, but his justice
also. And so the grace of God doth not shut out the righteousness of
God in our justification; but only shutteth out the righteousness of
man; that is to say, the righteousness of our works.
6. And therefore St. _Paul_ declareth nothing on the behalf of man,
concerning his justification, but only a true and lively faith, which
itself is the gift of God. And yet that faith, doth not shut our
repentance, hope, love, and the fear of God, to be joined with faith in
every man that is justified. But it shutteth them out from the office
of justifying. So that although they be all present together in him
that is justified, yet they justify not altogether.
7. Neither doth faith shut out good works, necessary to be done
afterwards, of duty towards God: (for we are most bounden to serve God,
in doing good works, commanded in scripture, all the days of our life).
But we may not do them with this intent, to be justified by doing
them. For all the good works we can do, are not able to deserve our
justification: but our justification cometh freely of the mere mercy
of God: and of so great and free mercy, that whereas all the world was
not able to pay any part towards their ransom, it pleased him, without
any of our deserving, to prepare for us the most precious jewels
of Christ’s body and blood, whereby our ransom might be paid, the
law fulfilled, and his justice satisfied. So that Christ is now the
righteousness of all them that truly believe in him.
8. Ye have heard, that no man can be justified by his own works,
inasmuch as no man fulfilleth the law: and St. _Paul_ in his epistle
to the _Galatians_, proveth the same, saying, _If there had been a
law given which could have justified, verily righteousness should have
been by the law_. And again, _If righteousness come by the law, then
is Christ dead in vain_. And to the _Ephesians_ he saith, (chapter ii.)
_By grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of ourselves: it is
the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast_. And to be
short, the sum of all _Paul_’s disputation is this, _If righteousness
come of works, then it cometh not of grace: and if it come of grace,
then it cometh not of works_. And to this end tend all the prophets,
as St. _Peter_ saith, (_Acts x. 43._) _To him give all the prophets
witness, that through his name, whosoever believeth in him shall
receive remission of sins_.
9. And that we are justified only by this true and lively faith
in Christ, speak all the ancient authors; especially _Origen_, St.
_Cyprian_, St. _Chrysostom_, _Hilary_, _Basil_, St. _Ambrose_, and
St. _Augustin_: by which they take away clearly all merit of our works,
and wholly ascribe our justification unto Christ only. _This faith
the holy scripture teacheth us, is the strong rock and foundation of
the Christian religion. This doctrine all ancient authors of Christ’s
church do approve. This doctrine setteth forth the true glory of Christ,
and beateth down the vain glory of man. This whosoever denieth, is not
to be accounted for a Christian man, nor for a setter forth of Christ’s
glory; but for an adversary to Christ and his gospel, and for a setter
forth of man’s vain-glory._
10. But that this true doctrine of justification by faith may be truly
understood, observe, that justification is the office of God only;
and is not a thing which we render unto him, but which we receive of
him by his free mercy, through the only merits of his beloved Son.
And the true sense of this doctrine, _we are justified freely by faith
without works_, or, _we are justified by faith in Christ only_, is
not, that this our own act _to believe in Christ_, or this our faith
in Christ, which is within us, doth justify us; (for that were to
account ourselves to be justified by some act or virtue that is within
ourselves) but that although we have faith, hope, and charity within
us and do never so many works thereunto; yet we must renounce the merit
of all, of faith, hope, charity and all other virtues and good works,
which we either have done, shall do, or can do, as far too weak to
deserve our justification: for which therefore we must trust only in
God’s mercy, and the sacrifice which Christ offered for us on the cross.
11. As then _John_ Baptist, as great and godly a man as he was, yet in
this matter of forgiving sin put the people from him, and pointed them
to Christ, saying, _Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins
of the world_: even so as great and godly a virtue as faith is, it
putteth us from itself, and pointeth us to Christ, to have only by him
remission of sins or justification. So that our faith as it were, saith
unto us thus: _It is not I that taketh away your sins. It is Christ
only, and to him alone I send you for that purpose; forsaking all your
good virtues, words, thoughts, and works, and putting your trust in
Christ only._
12. And in truth, neither our faith nor our works do justify us; that
is, deserve remission of our sins: but God himself doth justify us, of
his own mercy, thro’ the merits of his Son only. Nevertheless, because
by faith given us of God, we embrace the promise of God’s mercy, and of
the remission of our sins; therefore the scripture saith, _that faith
doth justify_, yea, _Faith without works_. And as it is all one to say,
_Faith without works_, and _only faith doth justify us_, therefore the
ancient fathers from time to time speak thus: _Only faith justifieth
us_, meaning no other than St. _Paul_ meant when he saith, _Faith
without works justifieth us_. And because this is wrought through the
only merits of Christ, and not thro’ our merits, or thro’ the merit
of any virtue we have within us, or of any work that cometh from us:
therefore, in that respect, we renounce, as it were, again, faith,
works, and all other virtues. For our corruption through original sin
is so great, that _all our faith, charity, words and works cannot merit
or deserve any part of our justification for us_. And therefore we thus
speak, humbling ourselves to God, and giving to our Saviour Christ all
the glory of our justification.
13. To justify then, is the office of God to man. Our office and duty
to God is not to pass our time sinfully or unfruitfully: for this were
to serve the devil, and not God. For that faith which bringeth not
forth repentance, but either evil works, or no good works, is not a
right, pure and living faith, but a dead and devilish one, as _Paul_
and St. _James_ call it. For even the devils believe, _That Christ
was born of a virgin: that he wrought all kind of miracles, declaring
himself very God: that for our sakes he suffered a most painful death,
to redeem us from death everlasting: that he rose again the third day:
that he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right-hand of the
Father, and at the end of the world shall come again to judge both the
quick and the dead_. These articles of our faith the devils believe,
and so they believe all that is written in the Old and New Testament.
_And yet for all this faith, they be but devils. They remain still in
their damnable estate, lacking the very true Christian faith._
14. _The right and true Christian faith, is not only to believe that
holy scripture, and the articles of our faith are true; but also,
to have a sure trust and confidence, to be saved from everlasting
damnation by Christ; whereof doth follow a loving heart to obey his
commandments._
15. And this true Christian faith, neither any devil hath, nor yet any
man, who, in his receiving the sacraments, in coming to church, and in
all other outward appearances, seemeth to be a Christian, and yet in
his life sheweth the contrary. For how can a man have this _true faith,
sure trust and confidence in God, that by the merits of Christ his sins
are forgiven, and ♦be reconciled to the favour of God, when he denieth
Christ in his works_? Surely no ungodly man can have this faith, and
trust in God!
♦ “he” replaced with “be”
16. If we do truly believe, that whereas we were condemned to hell
and death everlasting, God hath given his own son to take our nature
upon him, and to suffer death for our offences, to justify us, and to
restore us to life everlasting: if we truly believe, that he hath made
us his dear children, brethren unto his only son, and inheritors with
him of his eternal kingdom of heaven; these great and merciful benefits
of God will move us to render ourselves unto God wholly, with all our
hearts, might, and power, to serve him in all good works, to seek in
all things his glory; evermore dreading to offend in word, thought, or
deed, such a merciful God and loving Redeemer. They will also move us,
to be ever ready for his sake to give ourselves to our neighbours, and
as much as lieth in us, to study with all our endeavour, to do good to
every man. These are the fruits of true faith, to do good, as much as
lieth in us, to every man; and above all things, and in all things, to
advance the glory of God: to whom be praise and honour, world without
end!
_Of_ true Christian faith.
1. THE first coming unto God is through faith, whereby we are justified
before God; but lest any man should be deceived, for want of a right
understanding thereof, it is diligently to be noted, that faith is
taken in scripture two ways: there is one faith, which the scripture
calleth a dead faith. And this, by St. _James_, is compared to the
faith of devils, who _believe and tremble_, and yet do nothing well:
and such a faith as this have wicked Christians, who _profess they know
God, but in works deny him_.
2. _This faith is, a persuasion that there is a God, and a belief of
all the truths contained in his word. So that it consisteth only in
believing that the word of God is true. And this is not properly called
faith._ But as he that readeth _Cæsar_’s commentary, tho’ he believeth
it to be true, yet he is not properly said, to believe in _Cæsar_, even
so he that believeth all the bible to be true, and yet liveth ungodly,
is not properly said to believe in God. For inasmuch as faith without
works is dead, it is not faith, as a dead man is not a man.
3. Another faith there is in scripture, which is not idle or unfruitful,
but (as St. _Paul_ declares) _working by love_. And as that is called
a dead faith, so this may be called a quick or living faith. _This is
not only a belief of the articles of our faith; but also a true trust
and confidence of the mercy of God through our Lord Jesus Christ, and
a stedfast hope of all good things at God’s hand_:¹ a confidence, that
tho’ we should fall from him by sin, yet if we return to him by true
repentance, he will forgive our offences for his Son’s sake; and make
us inheritors of his everlasting kingdom: that in the mean time he will
be our protector and defender, and not withdraw his mercy finally from
us, if we commit ourselves wholly unto him, hang only upon him, and
call upon him, ready to obey and serve him. This is the true, living
Christian faith; which is not in the mouth, and outward profession only,
but it liveth and stirreth inwardly in the heart: and this faith is not
without hope and trust in God, nor without the love of God, and of our
neighbour nor without the fear of God, nor without the desire to hear
God’s word, and to follow the same, in avoiding evil, and gladly doing
all good works.
¹ It is the doctrine of the church of England, to which every
minister of our church hath subscribed, in subscribing the
35th article, That, “without, or before this, can no good
work be done.”
4. Of this faith, three things are specially to be noted; first, that
it is fruitful in bringing forth good works; secondly, that without
it can no good works be done: thirdly, what good works this faith doth
bring forth.
5. For the _first_, as light cannot be hid, but will shew itself at
one place or other; so true faith cannot be hid, but will break out,
and shew itself by good works. And as the living body of a man ever
exerciseth such things as belong to a living body, for nourishment and
preservation of the same; even so the soul that hath a living faith,
will be always doing some good work, which shall declare that it is
living. Therefore, if any man fancy he is set at liberty from doing
good works, it is a manifest token he hath no true faith; yea he
knoweth not what true faith meaneth. For true Christian faith is not
only a belief of all the things of God which are contained in holy
scripture; but also an earnest trust and confidence in God that he
is careful over us, as the father is over the child whom he loveth,
and that he will be merciful to us for his son’s sake. And this true
faith, when we consider what God hath done for us, is also moved
thro’ continual assistance of the Spirit of God, to serve and please
him, to keep his favour, to fear his displeasure, to continue his
obedient children; shewing thankfulness by observing his commandments;
considering how clearly, without our deservings, we have freely
received his mercy and pardon.
6. Therefore, if it do not appear in our conversation, the faith we
pretend to have is but feigned: because true faith is manifestly shewn
by good living, and not by words only: as St. _Augustin_ saith, _Good
living cannot be separated from true faith, which worketh by love_:
and St. _Chrysostom_, _Faith is full of good works; and as soon as a
man believeth, he shall be adorned with them_. How plentiful it is in
good works, St. _Paul_ teacheth at large in the 11th chapter to the
_Hebrews_; evidently declaring, that true faith is no unfruitful thing,
but a thing of perfect virtue, of wonderful operation and strength,
bringing forth all good motions and good works.
7. Every man therefore must diligently examine himself, whether he hath
this faith in his heart or not. He that feeleth his heart set to seek
God’s honour and leadeth not his life after his own desire, but setteth
his mind to serve God, and for his sake to love all his neighbours,
whether they be friends or adversaries, doing good to every man, (as
opportunity serveth) and willingly hurting no man; such a man may well
rejoice in God, perceiving by his life, that he hath a living faith.
But he that doth not live according to God’s words, deceiveth himself
if he think he believeth in him.
8. Let us then by our works declare our faith to be the living
Christian faith: and by such virtues as ought to spring out of faith.
_Let us add to, or in our faith, virtue; in our virtue, knowledge;
in our knowledge, temperance; in our temperance, patience; in our
patience, godliness; in our godliness, brotherly-kindness; and in
brotherly-kindness, charity._ So shall we both certify our conscience,
that we are in the right faith, and also confirm other men. If you feel
and perceive such a faith in you, rejoice in it, and be diligent to
maintain it. Let it be daily encreasing more and more by good works;
so shall you be sure that you shall please God, and when his will is,
_receive the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls_.
9. The _second_ thing that was noted of true faith was, that without
it can no good works be done: _for as the branch cannot bear the
fruit itself_, saith Christ, _except it abide in the vine; no more
can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine; ye are the branches:
he that abideth in me and I in him, he bringeth forth much fruit: for
without me ye can do nothing._ And St. _Paul_ proveth that _Enoch_ had
faith, because _he pleased God: for without faith_, saith he, _it is
impossible to please him_.
10. Faith giveth life to the soul: and they are as much dead to God who
want faith, as they are to the world, whose bodies want souls. Without
faith all we do is but dead before God, be it ever so glorious before
man. Even as a picture is but a dead representation of the thing itself;
so are the works of those who have not faith before God. They are
but shadows of good and living things, and not good and living things
indeed: For without faith no work is good before God. We must set no
good works before faith. “Let no man, saith St. _Augustin_, reckon upon
his good works before his faith; for where faith was not, good works
were not. There is one work in which are all good works, that is, faith
which worketh by love. If thou hast this, thou hast the ground of all
good works: without this, thou hast only the shadows of them.”
11. To the same purpose, saith St. _Chrysostom_, “Many who have not
the true faith, yet flourish in works of mercy; but the chief work
is lacking, to believe in him whom God hath sent. So soon as a man
hath faith, he shall flourish in good works. For faith is full of good
works, and nothing is good without faith. They that shine in good works
without faith, are like dead men who have goodly and precious tombs.
Faith cannot be but naked without good works, for then it is no true
faith; and when it is joined to works, yet it is above the works. For
as men first have life, and after are nourished; so must our faith in
Christ go before, and after be nourished with good works. And life may
be without nourishment, but nourishment can’t be without life. A man
must needs be nourished by good works, but first he must have faith.
He that doth good works, yet without faith, he hath no life. I can
shew a man that by faith without works lived and came to heaven: but
without faith never man had life. The thief that was hanged when Christ
suffered, did believe only; and the most merciful God justified him.
Faith by itself saved him; but works by themselves never justified any
man.”
12. The _third_ thing to be noted of true faith is, what good works
it doth bring forth. And this Christ himself hath plainly declared,
_If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments_. So that we are
taught by Christ’s own mouth, that the works of the commandments of God
are the true works of faith, the very way that doth lead to everlasting
life.
13. Wherefore as ye have any regard for everlasting life, apply
yourselves above all things to read and hear God’s word; mark
diligently what his commandments are, and with all your endeavour
follow the same. First, you must have an assured faith in God, and give
yourselves wholly unto him; love him in prosperity and adversity, and
dread to offend him evermore. Then for his sake, love all men, friends
and foes, because they are his creatures and image, and redeemed by
Christ as ye are. Cast in your mind how you may do good unto all men,
unto your power, and hurt none. Obey all your superiors and governors;
serve your masters faithfully and diligently; disobey not your fathers
and mothers, but honour, help, and please them to your power. Oppress
not, kill not, beat not, neither slander nor hate any man: but love
all men, speak well of all men, help and succour every man as you may,
yea, even your enemies that hate you, that speak evil of you, and hurt
you. Take no man’s goods, nor covet your neighbour’s goods; but be
content with your own, and bestow them charitably, as need requireth.
Flee all idolatry, witchcraft, perjury; commit no manner of adultery,
fornication, or other unchastity in will or deed. And labouring
continually in thus keeping the commandments, which, wrought in faith,
God hath ordained to be the path-way unto heaven, you shall not fail to
come to that everlasting life, where you shall live in glory with God
for ever.
An ABRIDGMENT of the
PILGRIM’s PROGRESS
From this WORLD
To that which is to come.
AS I walked through the wilderness of this world, I laid me down to
sleep, and as I slept, I dreamed; and behold, I saw a man cloathed with
rags, standing with his face from his house, a book in his hand, and
a great burthen upon his back. I looked and saw him open the book and
read therein; and as he read he wept and trembled: And not being able
longer to contain, he broke out, saying, _What shall I do to be saved?_
In this plight he went home, and refrained himself as long as he could,
that his wife and children might not perceive his distress. But his
trouble so increased that he soon burst out, “O my dear wife, and you
the children of my bowels, I am undone by reason of this burthen which
lieth so hard upon me. Moreover, I am certainly informed, that this
our city will shortly be destroyed with fire from heaven; in which
overthrow we shall all miserably perish, except some way of escape be
found.” At this they were sore amazed; not that they believed what he
said, but because they thought him distempered in his head. However,
hoping sleep might settle him again, they in all haste got him to bed.
But the night was as grievous to him as the day. Instead of sleeping,
he spent it in sighs and tears. And in the morning, when they asked
him “how he did” he told them, “worse and worse.” They then thought to
drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriage to him. Sometimes
they would deride, sometimes chide, and sometimes quite neglect him.
Wherefore he began to retire more to his chamber, to pray for them, and
to bemoan his own misery. He would also walk solitary in the fields,
sometimes reading, and sometimes praying. And thus for some days he
spent his time.
Now I saw, upon a time when he was walking in the fields, that he
was, as he was wont, reading his book; and as he read, he burst out as
before, saying, _What must I do to be saved_?
I saw also, that he looked this way and that way as if he would run;
yet he stood still, because (as I perceived) he could not tell which
way to go. I looked then and saw a man, called _Evangelist_, coming to
him, who asked, “_ Wherefore dost thou cry?_”
He answered, “Sir I perceive by the book in my hand, that I am
condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment. And I find I am
not willing to do the first, nor able to do the second.”
Then said _Evangelist_, “why not willing to die?” The man answered,
because I fear that this burden which is on my back will sink me lower
than the grave. And, Sir, if I am not fit to go to prison, I am not fit
to go to judgment.”
“But said _Evangelist_, if this be thy condition, why standest thou
still?” He answered, “because I know not whither to go.” Then said
_Evangelist_, pointing over a wide field, “do you see yonder little
gate? Go up directly to it and knock; and it shall be told thee what
thou shalt do.”
So I saw in my dream, that the man began to run. He had not run far,
before his wife and children perceiving it, began to cry after him to
return: But he stopped his ears and ran on, crying, Life, life! eternal
life, without once looking behind him.
The neighbours also came out, and as he ran some mocked, others
threatened, and some called to him to return. And of these, two
resolved to fetch him back by force; the name of the one was
_Obstinate_, of the other _♦Pliable_. He was now got a good distance
from them; however, in a little time they overtook him. Then said the
man, “Neighbours, wherefore are you come?” They said, “To persuade you
to go back with us.” But he said, “That cannot be; you dwell in the
city of _Destruction_, the place also where I was born. And if you die
there, you will sink into a place that burns with fire and brimstone.
Be content, good neighbours, and go along with me.”
♦ “Pliablel” replaced with “Pliable”
What, said _Obstinate_, and leave our friends and all our comforts
behind us?
Yes, said _Christian_, (that was his name) for all these are not worthy
to be compared with the least part of what I seek; and if you will go
with me, there is enough and to spare.
_Obstinate._ What are the things you seek, since you leave all the
world to find them?
_Christian._ I seek an _inheritance, incorruptible, undefiled, and that
fadeth not away_?
_Obstinate._ Tush, away with your cant. Will you go back with us or no?
_Christian._ No, not I. I have _put my hand to the plough_.
_Obstinate._ Come then, neighbour, let us go home without him. There
is a company of these crazy coxcombs, that when they get a fancy by
the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render
a reason.
_Pliable._ Don’t revile. Who knows but what he says is true? I have
almost a mind to go with him.
_Obstinate._ What more fools still? Come back, come back. Who knows
whither a madman may lead you?
_Christian._ Nay, but come with me, to _the glory which shall be
revealed_. And if you believe not me, read here in this book, the
truth of which is confirmed by the blood of him that made it.
_Pliable._ Neighbour _Obstinate_, I think I will go with this good man,
and cast in my lot with him.
_Obstinate._ Then get you gone. I will e’en go home. I will be no
companion for such whimsical fellows.
Now I saw in my dream, that when _Obstinate_ was gone back, _Christian_
and _Pliable_ went on talking together.
_Pliable._ Come neighbour, since we are alone, tell me farther what the
things are to which we are going.
_Christian._ I can better conceive than speak them. There is _a kingdom
that cannot be moved, a house eternal in the heavens_, where we _shall
shine as the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever_.
_Pliable._ And what company shall we have there?
_Christian._ There will be an _innumerable company of angels, ten
thousand times ten thousand_, and thousands of saints, of holy men, out
of every kindred and people, and nation. There we shall see those who
were cut in pieces, burnt with fire, eaten with beasts, for the love
they bore to the Lord of the place; having now overcome sin, and death,
and pain, and put on immortality as a garment.
_Pliable._ Glad am I to hear of these things. Come on let us mend our
pace.
Now I saw in my dream, that they drew nigh to a _slough_ that was in
the midst of the plain, (it was called _Despond_) and being heedless,
they both suddenly fell in. “Ah, neighbour, said _Pliable_, where are
we now?” Truly, said _Christian_, I do not know. At this _Pliable_ was
much offended, and said, “Is this the happiness you talked of all this
while? If we have such ill speed at setting out, what may we not expect
before our journey’s end? If I get out hence with my life, you shall
have the brave country alone for me.” And with that he gave a desperate
struggle or two and got out of the mire on the side next his own house.
So away he went, and _Christian_ saw him no more.
Wherefore _Christian_ was left in the slough alone; but still he
struggled toward that side which was farthest from his own house, yet
could not get out, because of his burthen. But I beheld a man come to
him, whose name was _Help_, and asked, “What he did there.”
_Christian._ Sir, I was directed to go by this way to yonder gate; and
as I went, I fell in here.
Then said he, “Give me thy hand.” So he gave him his hand, and he drew
him out, and set him on firm ground.
But _Christian_ had not gone far, before one met him, who was crossing
over the plain. The gentleman’s name was _Worldly Wiseman_. Having
some knowledge of _Christian_ by report, (for his leaving the city of
_Destruction_ was noised far and near) he began thus:
_World._ How now good fellow, whither away?
_Christian._ Sir, I am going to yonder little gate.
_World._ Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee counsel?
_Christian._ Yea, if it be good, I will.
_World._ I counsel thee then, get rid of that burthen with all speed,
else thou wilt never be settled in thy mind.
_Christian._ That is what I seek; but get it off myself I cannot: nor
is there any man in our country can take it off.
_World._ Who bid you go this way to be rid of it?
_Christian._ One that appeared to me, a great and honourable person.
His name I think, is _Evangelist_.
_World._ Beshrew him for his counsel. There is not a more dangerous or
troublesome way in the world than this. Hear me; I am older than thou.
Thou art like to meet in the way thou now goest, weariness, painfulness,
nakedness, hunger, peril, sword; death itself, and what not?
_Christian._ Sir, this burden is worse than all these. I care not what
I meet with, so I get rid of this.
_World._ How camest thou by it at first?
_Christian._ By reading this book.
_World._ I thought so. So it has fared with other weak men; who,
meddling with things too high for them, suddenly fall into distraction,
and run desperate ventures to obtain they know not what.
_Christian._ I know what I would obtain. It is ease from my burthen.
_World._ Hadst thou but patience to hear, I could direct thee to obtain
that, without running into any of these dangers.
_Christian._ Pray, Sir, open this secret to me.
_World._ Why, in yonder village there lives a gentleman, whose name is
_Legality_, a very judicious man, and of good credit and fashion: he
has helped abundance of men off with such burthens as thine are.
_Christian._ Sir, which is my way to his house?
_World._ You must go by yonder high hill, and the first house you come
at is his.
So _Christian_ turned out of his way. But when he was got hard by the
hill, it hung so much over the way, that he was afraid to venture on,
lest it should fall upon his head. Wherefore he stood still, and knew
not what to do. Likewise his burthen seemed heavier than before. There
came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made him afraid he
should be burnt: insomuch that he now quaked for fear, and was sorry he
came out of his way. And with that he saw _Evangelist_ coming to meet
him, at the sight of whom he blushed for shame: so he came up to him,
and with a severe countenance said.
_Evangelist._ What dost thou here? To which he knew not what to answer,
but stood speechless before him.
_Evangelist._ Art thou not the man whom I found crying without the
walls of the city of _Destruction_?
_Christian._ Yes, Sir, I am.
_Evangelist._ Did I not direct thee to the little gate? How is it that
thou art so quickly turned aside?
_Christian._ I met a gentleman who told me, I might find one in yonder
village that could take off my burthen.
Then said _Evangelist_, stand still a little that I may tell thee
the words of the Lord. So he stood trembling. Then _Evangelist_ said,
_See that ye refuse not him that speaketh: for if they escaped not who
refused him that spoke on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we
turn away from him that speaketh from heaven: for the just shall live
by faith; but if he draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him_.
Then _Christian_ fell down at his feet as dead. But _Evangelist_ caught
him by the right-hand, and said, _All manner of sins and blasphemies
shall be forgiven unto men: be not faithless but believing_. At
this his spirit a little revived, and he stood up trembling before
_Evangelist_.
Then _Evangelist_ said, _Give more earnest heed unto the things_ that
I shall tell thee of. There are three things in the counsel of the man
that met thee, which thou must utterly abhor.
1. His turning thee out of the way.
2. His labouring to make the cross odious to thee.
3. His setting thy feet in the way that leadeth to death.
_First_, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; for this is
to reject the counsel of God, seeing the Lord saith, _Strive to enter
in at the strait gate_, the gate to which I sent thee.
_Secondly_, Abhor his labouring to make the cross odious to thee; for
thou art to prefer it before _the treasures of Egypt_. Besides the
Lord hath said, _If any man come after me, and hate not his father and
mother, and wife and children, and brethren and sisters, yea, and his
own life also, he cannot be my disciple_. The doctrine therefore which
teacheth to hate or shun the cross, thou must utterly abhor.
Thou must, _lastly_, abhor his setting thy feet in the way that leadeth
to death. For he to whom thou wast sent, _legality_ by name, is _the
son of the bondwoman_: and this is mount _Sinai_, _which gendereth unto
bondage_, and unto death eternal. He cannot free any man of his burthen:
nor is it possible he should; for _by the works of the law shall no
flesh living be justified_.
After this _Evangelist_ called aloud to the heavens for the
confirmation of what he had said. And there came words and fire out of
the mountain. The words were these, _As many as are of the works of the
law are under the curse: for it is written, Cursed is every one that
continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law
to do them_.
Now _Christian_ looked for nothing but death, and cried out with a
bitter cry: nevertheless, turning to _Evangelist_, he said, “Sir, Is
there any hope? May my sin be forgiven? May I yet go back, and enter
in at that gate? Shall I not be sent away with shame?”
Then _Evangelist_ said, “Thy sin is great; yet it may be forgiven; the
man at the gate will let thee in: but take heed thou turn not aside
again, _lest if his wrath be kindled, yea, but a little, thou perish
from the way_.”
So he went on with haste; neither spoke he to any by the way. He went
as one treading on forbidden ground; and could not think himself safe,
till he got into the way, out of which he had turned before. He then
went on with all his might till he came to the gate; over which was
written, _Knock, and it shall be opened unto you_. He knocked therefore
more than once or twice. At last there came a grave person to the gate,
named _Goodwill_, who asked, “Who was there?”
_Christian._ Here is a poor burthened sinner. I come from the city of
_destruction_, and am going to Mount _Zion_; and I understand I am to
go thro’ this gate, if you are willing to let me in.
I am willing with all my heart, said he, and with that he opened the
gate.
When _Christian_ was stepping in, the other pulled him suddenly. Then
said _Christian_, What means that? He replied, a little way off is
a strong castle, of which _Beelzebub_ is the captain; from whence he
continually shoots at those who come to this gate, if haply they may
die before they can enter in. Then said _Christian_, “I rejoice and
tremble.”
_Goodwill._ But who directed you hither?
_Christian._ One named _Evangelist_, who said, that you would tell me
what I must do.
_Goodwill._ _An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it._
But how is it thou art come alone?
_Christian._ One of my neighbours came with me a little way; but then
he was discouraged, and went back; and I also soon after turned aside,
to go in the way of death. So that, had not _Evangelist_ met me again,
I had never come hither. And O! what a favour is this to me, that I am
suffered to enter here!
_Goodwill._ We make no objections against any. Whatever they have done
before they came, if they knock, the gate is opened to them. Him that
cometh, we in no wise cast out.
But come with me, and I will teach thee concerning the road. Dost thou
see this narrow way? That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by
the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and his apostles.
_Christian._ But are there no ways that turn out of this?
_Goodwill._ Yes, many; but they are crooked and wide. The right way
only is strait and narrow. Go on therein, till thou comest to the house
of the _interpreter_, and he will shew thee excellent things.
So _Christian_ went on till he came to the house; where he knocked, and
asked for the master of the house. To whom, when he came, he spoke thus.
Sir, I am a man that am come from the city of _Destruction_, and am
going to mount _Zion_. And I was informed by him at the gate, that if
I called here, you would shew me excellent things.
Then said the _Interpreter_, “Come in, and I will shew thee that which
will be profitable to thee.” So he took him by the hand, and led him
into a large parlour that was full of dust. After a while he called for
a man to sweep; which he had no sooner begun to do, than the dust so
abundantly flew about, that _Christian_ was almost choaked. Then the
_Interpreter_ said to a damsel, “Bring hither water, and sprinkle the
room.” After which it was easily swept and cleansed.
This parlour, said the _Interpreter_ to _Christian_, is the heart of
a natural man. The dust is his original sin, and inward corruptions,
of every kind. He that first began to sweep is the _law_; she that
sprinkled it, is the _gospel_. Now whereas thou sawest, that by his
sweeping, the dust was only raised, and the room not cleansed at all;
this is to shew thee, _that the law_, instead of cleansing the heart
from sin, doth revive and increase it in the soul. For, by _the law_
is only the _knowledge of sin_; but not deliverance from it.
Again, Thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room; after which it was
cleansed with pleasure: this is to shew thee, that when _the gospel_
comes into the heart, sin is easily subdued; and the soul made clean
thro’ faith, and fit for the king of glory to inhabit.
He then led me into a place, where was a fire burning against a wall,
and one continually casting water upon it, yet could he not quench it,
but the flame rose higher than before.
This fire, said he, is the work of grace that is wrought in a believing
heart. He that casts water upon it is the devil. Yet can he not quench
it, for the reason thou shalt now see. So he carried him to the other
side of the wall, where was a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, out
of which he continually cast into the fire, Then said _Christian_, What
means this?
The _Interpreter_ answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the
oil of his grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart, so
that the devil cannot quench it. And he stands behind the wall, to shew
it is hard for the tempted to see how this work is maintained in his
soul.
He then took him by the hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where
was a stately palace: on the top of which were certain persons walking,
who were cloathed all in gold. At the door below stood a great company
of men, desirous to go in, but yet afraid. For in the door-way stood
many armed men, to keep it, and drive all back. At last a man of a
stout countenance came up, drew his sword, put a helmet on his head,
and rushed into the midst of the armed men, who fell upon him with all
their force. But after receiving and giving many wounds, he cut his
way through them all, and went in. Then was heard a pleasant voice from
within saying,
Come in, soldier of Christ, come in:
Eternal glory thou shalt win!
I verily think, said _Christian_, I know the meaning of this; now then
let me go hence.
Stay, said the _Interpreter_, till I have shewed thee a little more.
Then he took him by the hand again, and led him into a dark room, where
sat a man in an iron cage; his eyes were fixed on the ground, his hands
folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his heart.
Then said _Christian_, “What art thou?” He replied, I am a man of
_despair: I am so fast in prison that I cannot get forth_.
_Christian._ But how camest thou there?
_Man._ I left off to watch and pray; I sinned against light and love;
I grieved the Spirit, ♦and he is gone from me; I tempted the devil, and
he is come into me; I defied God, and he hath forsaken me.
♦ duplicate word “and” removed
_Christian._ But have you no hope? The Son of the Blessed is of tender
mercy.
_Man._ But I have crucified him to myself afresh, I have counted
his blood an unholy thing, I have done despite to the spirit of
grace: and _there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin; but a certain
fearful looking for of fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an
adversary_.
_Christian._ But can’st thou not repent?
_Man._ No, never; for I have quenched the Spirit. O eternity, eternity!
Who can tell the length of eternity?
_Christian._ Well, God help me to watch and pray.――Sir, is it not time
for me to go on my way?
_Interpreter._ I will shew thee one thing more, and thou shalt go. So
he led him into a chamber where was one rising out of bed, who shook
and trembled exceedingly: then said _Christian_, “Why dost thou tremble
thus?” This night, said he, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold
the heavens were exceeding black: also it thundered and lightened on
every side. So I looked up and saw the skies divide: and I heard a
great sound of a trumpet: and I saw one descend, sitting on a cloud,
attended with the thousands of heaven; they were all arrayed with
flaming fire: also the heavens were in a burning flame. I then heard a
voice out of the fire saying, “Arise ye dead and come to judgment;” and
behold the rocks rent, the graves were opened, and the dead that were
therein came forth: some of those looked up, and were exceeding glad,
and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw him
who sat upon the cloud open a book, and bid the world draw near; yet
was there a distance, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out,
and came before him. I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended
on him who sat upon the cloud, “Gather together the tares and chaff,
and cast them into the lake that burneth with brimstone;” and the
bottomless pit opened her mouth, and there came forth smoak and coals
of fire. It was also proclaimed, “Gather the wheat into my garner;” and
I saw many caught up in the clouds, but I was left. I then called to
the mountains to fall upon me, and the rocks to cover me, but in vain:
for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me. Then
came all my sins to my remembrance, and fear was on every side; so I
awoke.
Then said the _Interpreter_ to _Christian_, “Keep these things in thy
mind, that they may be as a goad in thy side wherever thou goest; and
the comforter be always with thee, and guide thee in the way that leads
to the city.”
Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which I was to go, was
fenced on every side with a wall, called _salvation_. Up this way he
ran, till he came at a place where stood a cross, and somewhat below,
a sepulchre. Just as _Christian_ came to the cross, his burthen loosed,
fell off, and rolled down, till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre,
where it fell in; and I saw it no more.
Then was _Christian_ glad, and said with a merry heart, _The life that
I now ♦live, I live by faith in the Son of God; who loved me, and gave
himself for me_.
♦ “life” replaced with “live”
Then he stood awhile to look and wonder, even till the tears ran down
his cheeks; and as he stood, three shining ones came and saluted him
with, _Peace be unto thee_. Then the first said unto him, _thy sins are
forgiven thee_; the second striped him of _his rags, and cloathed_ him
with change of raiment; and the third _set a mark on his forehead_, and
gave him a roll, with a seal upon it, which he bid him look on as he
ran, and give it at the gate of the city.
I beheld then that he went on rejoicing, till he came to the foot of
the hill _difficulty_. At the bottom of this was a spring, of which
he drank, and was refreshed, and then he began to go up the hill.
Sometimes he ran; then walked; then climbed on his hands and knees,
because of the steepness of the place. Now, about the midway to the top
of the hill, was a pleasant arbour, planted by the Lord of the hill,
for the relief of weary travellers. Here therefore he sat down to rest,
and pulled his roll out of his bosom, to read therein, and comfort
himself. He also began to survey his new raiment, till he fell into
a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which held him till it was
almost night: and, in his sleep, his roll fell out of his hand. Then
came one to him and said, _Go to the Ant, thou sluggard; consider her
ways, and be wise_. On this he started up, and went apace till he came
to the top of the hill.
He now felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein,
and be comforted: but he found it not. Then was he much perplexed, and
knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself, that he had slept
in the arbour on the side of the hill; and falling down, he asked God
forgiveness for his folly, and then went back to look for his roll. But
all the way he went, who can tell the sorrow of his heart? Sometimes he
sighed, sometimes he wept; mean while, looking carefully on each side,
if in any wise he might find it. He went thus till he came in sight
of the arbour, where he had sat and slept. But that sight renewed his
grief, till he broke out, “O wretched man that I am! That I should
sleep in the midst of difficulty! That I should use that rest for ease
to my flesh, which was intended only for the relief of the spirits of
weary pilgrims! How far might I have been on my way by this! And now
also the day is far spent.” By this time he was come to the arbour
again; where, looking under the seat he espied his roll; with trembling
and haste he caught it up. But who can tell how joyful he was? For
this roll was _the assurance_ of his life and acceptance at the desired
haven. He laid it up in his bosom, gave God thanks, and with tears of
joy betook himself again to his journey. He got up the hill just as the
sun went down; when, lifting up his eyes, he beheld a stately palace
before him, which stood by the high-way side.
So he made haste and went forward, that if possible he might get
lodging there. But before he had gone far, he entered into a narrow
passage, about a furlong from the porter’s lodge: when, looking
carefully before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Then
he was afraid, and thought to go back; but the porter perceiving him to
make a halt, cried out, “Is thy strength so small? Fear them not. They
are chained; and are placed there for the trial of thy faith, keep in
the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee.”
Then I saw that he went on, though trembling, till he came to the gate,
and asked, if he might lodge there?
_Porter._ I will call one of the house. So he rung a bell, and there
came out a damsel, named _Discretion_; who, after asking him several
questions, said, “I will call out one or two more of the family;” so
she ran to the door, and called _Piety_, and _Charity_; who, after a
little more discourse with him, brought him in; and many meeting him at
the entrance, said, “Come in thou blessed of the Lord; this house was
built to entertain travellers to _Zion_.”
They sat talking together till supper was ready. And at the table also,
all their talk was about the Lord of the hill, what he had done; how
great a warrior he was; and how he had fought with and slain him that
had the power of death; though not without great danger to himself, and
the loss of much blood.
Thus they discoursed till late at night; and then _Christian_ was laid
in a large upper chamber, the name of which was _Peace_. In the morning
they shewed him the records of the greatest antiquity: in which was the
pedigree of the Lord of the hill, the son of the Ancient of days. Here
also were fully shewn the acts he had done, and the worthy deeds of
many of his servants, who had _subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness,
stopt the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire; escaped the
edge of the sword, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the
armies of the aliens_.
The next day they took him into the armory, where they shewed him all
manner of furniture, provided for pilgrims; swords, shields, helmets,
breast-plates, and shoes that would never wear out. And there was here
enough of these to arm as many men as there are stars in heaven for
multitude.
They then armed him from head to foot, lest he should meet with
assaults by the way. And when he set out, _Piety_, _Charity_, and
_Discretion_ accompanied him to the foot of the hill. Then said
_Christian_, “As it was difficult coming up this hill, so I see it is
dangerous going down.” “It is so,” said _Charity_, “for it is a hard
thing for a man to go down into the valley of _humiliation_, and catch
no slip by the way.” When they were come to the bottom, they gave him a
loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins; and then he
went on his way.
He had gone but a little way in the valley, before he espied a foul
fiend coming to meet him; his name was _Apollyon_. Then did he cast in
his mind, whether to go back, or stand his ground. But he considered he
had no armour for his back, and therefore resolved to stand. So he went
on, and _Apollyon_ met with him. Now the monster was hideous to behold.
He was cloathed with scales; he had wings like a dragon; out of his
belly came fire and smoak, and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion.
He beheld _Christian_ with a disdainful look, and began to question him
thus:
_Apollyon._ Whence comest thou? And whether dost thou go?
_Christian._ I came from the city of _Destruction_ and am going to
mount _Zion_.
_Apollyon._ Thou art one of my subjects. All that country is mine. I am
the prince and god of it. How is it that thou art fled from thy king.
_Christian._ I _was_ your subject; but your service was hard, and I
could endure it no longer.
_Apollyon._ Since thou complainest of my service, go back with me; and
whatever our country affords, I will give thee.
_Christian._ But I have hired myself to another, even the King of Kings.
How then can I go back?
_Apollyon._ It is common for those that have professed themselves his
servants, after a while to return to me. Do thou so, and all shall be
well.
_Christian._ I have sworn allegiance to him; and how can I go from this,
without being a traitor.
_Apollyon._ Thou didst the same to me; and yet I will pass by all, if
thou wilt now return.
_Christian._ I tell thee, once for all, I like his service, his wages,
his government, his servants, his company, and country, better than
thine; and him only will I serve.
_Apollyon._ Yet consider in cool blood, what thou art like to meet with
in the way that thou goest. How many of his servants came to ill ends?
How many have been put to shameful deaths? And yet, as good a master as
he is, he cometh not to deliver them out of my hands.
_Christian._ His delaying to deliver them, is on purpose to try their
love. And as for their ill end, as thou callest it, that is their glory.
For present deliverance they ask it not; being content to wait for
their reward, till their Prince shall come.
_Apollyon._ But what reward shalt thou have, who hast already been
unfaithful in thy service to him.
_Christian._ Wherein?
_Apollyon._ Thou didst faint at setting out, in the slough of _Despond_.
Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burthen. Thou didst
sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice things. Thou wast well nigh
frighted back by the lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and
of what thou hast seen and heard, there is pride in all thou sayest.
_Christian._ All this is true, and much more. But the King I serve is a
merciful King; yea, I know, he is merciful to _my_ unrighteousness, and
_my_ sins he remembreth no more.
Then _Apollyon_ broke out into a rage, and said, “I am an enemy to thy
King. I hate his person, his people, his laws. I am come out on purpose
to withstand thee.”
_Christian._ Beware what thou dost. I am in the King’s highway, the way
of holiness.
Then did _Apollyon_ stride quite over the way, and said, “I am void of
fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die. For no farther shalt thou
go. Here will I spill thy soul.”
With that he threw a flaming dart at his breast: but _Christian_ caught
it with his shield, and drew his sword while _Apollyon_ continued
throwing darts as thick as hail. This made _Christian_ give a little
back; but he soon took courage again: yet the combat lasted for above
half a day, he at length began to grow faint and weary.
_Apollyon_ seeing this, came up close to _Christian_, and wrestling
with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and withal _Christian_’s sword flew
out of his hand. Then said _Apollyon_, “I am sure of thee now.” But as
he was fetching his last blow, _Christian_ nimbly stretched out his
hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, _Rejoice not against me, O
mine enemy; when I fall, I shall arise_; and with that he gave him a
dreadful thrust, which made him draw back. _Christian_ perceiving this,
made at him again, saying, _Nay, in all these things we are more than
conquerors through him that loveth us_. But _Apollyon_, spread forth
his dragon’s wings, and fled away, that _Christian_ saw him no more.
Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the tree of
life, which he applied to his wounds, and they were immediately healed.
After this he addressed himself to his journey, but with his sword
drawn in his hand. Now at the end of this valley was another called,
_The valley of the Shadow of Death_. The prophet _Jeremiah_ describes
it thus, _A wilderness, a land of deserts and of pits, a land of
drought, a land that no man_ (but a Christian¹) _passeth through, and
where no man dwelt_.
¹ _N. B._ I cannot learn, either from scripture or experience,
that every Christian passes through this.
On the right-hand of this valley was a deep ditch, that is it into
which the blind have led the blind, in all ages, and have both there
miserably perished together. On the left, there was a dangerous
quagmire, into which whoever falls, (as _David_ did once) finds no
bottom for his foot to stand on.
The path also was exceeding narrow. So that when _Christian_ sought to
shun the ditch, he was ready to drop into the mire; and when he sought
to shun the mire, to fall into the ditch. Likewise the night was so
dark, that often when he lift up his foot, he knew not where he should
set it next.
About the midst of the valley was the mouth of hell; and it stood hard
by the way side. Now, thought _Christian_, What shall I do? For ever
and anon the smoak and flame would come out, with such abundance of
sparks and hideous noises, that he found no weapon availed but _prayer_.
So he cried aloud, with all his might, _O Lord I beseech thee deliver
my soul_. He walked on a great while in the midst of the flames. Also
he heard doleful voices, and rushing to and fro; so that sometimes he
thought he should be trodden down like mire in the streets. Thus he
went on for several miles, till he heard a company of fiends coming
forward to meet him. At this he knew not what to do; but at length
resolved to go on. They seemed to come nearer and nearer; but when they
were just come up, he cried out, with a most vehement voice, _I will
walk in the strength of the Lord God_. So they gave back, and came no
further.
I took notice, that _Christian_ was now so amazed, he did not know
his own voice: for just as he was over-against the mouth of the pit,
one of the wicked ones stepped up softly, and whispered many grievous
blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own
mind.
When he had travelled thus for some time, he heard the voice of one
before him, saying, _Though I walk through the valley of the Shadow of
Death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me_.
Then he was glad, hoping to have company by and by; so he hasted on,
and in awhile the day broke. Then said _Christian_, _He hath turned the
Shadow of Death, into the morning_.
He now looked back, not out of a desire to return, but to see the
dangers he had gone through. He feared them more before; but he saw
them now more clearly, because of the light of the day. And about this
time the sun arose, which was another mercy. For as dangerous as the
first part of the valley was, the second was more dangerous still. The
way from the place where he now stood, even to the end, being so full
of snares, traps, and nets; and also of pits, deep holes, and shelvings
down, that, had it now been dark, he must have perished. Then said
he, _His candle shineth on my head, and, by his light, I go through
darkness_.
In this light he walked to the end of the valley, and came to a small
ascent; from whence looking forward, he saw _Faithful_ a little way
before him; to whom _Christian_ cried, “Stay, stay, till I come up.”
But _Faithful_ answered, “No; I cannot stay for none; I am upon my life;
the avenger of blood is behind me.”
At this _Christian_ was somewhat moved, and putting forth all his
strength, he soon got up with _Faithful_, and outwent him. So the last
was first. Then did _Christian_ smile, because he had got the start of
his brother: but not taking heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and
fell; nor could he rise again, till _Faithful_ came to help him.
Then I saw in my dream, they went lovingly on together, discoursing of
many things.
_Christian._ How long after me did you stay in the city of
_Destruction_?
_Faith._ Till I could stay no longer; it being in every one’s mouth,
that the city would shortly be destroyed with fire from heaven.
_Christian._ But why then did no more of them come with you?
_Faith._ I do not think they firmly believed it, else they could not
have staid there.
_Christian._ Did you hear no talk of neighbour _Pliable_?
_♦Faith._ O yes: he is now despised of all. He is seven times worse
than if he had never set out.
♦ “Christian” replaced with “Faith”
_Christian._ But why should they despise him, since they despise the
way which he forsook?
_Faith._ They say, “O hang him: he is a turncoat; he was not true to
his profession.” God _has stirred up his enemies to hiss at him, and
make him a proverb, because he has forsaken the way_.
_Christian._ Did you escape the slough of _Despond_?
_Faith._ Yes, but I met with one, whose name was _Wanton_, that had
like to have done me a mischief.
_Christian._ How did you avoid it?
_Faith._ I remembered an old writing, which said, _Her steps take hold
of hell_. So I shut my eyes. Then she railed on me, and I went my way.
_Christian._ Did you meet with no other assault?
_Faith._ Yes: at the foot of the hill _Difficulty_, I met with a very
aged man, who asked, “If I would be content to live with him?” I asked
him his name; he said it was _Adam the First_. I asked what wages he
would give? He told me, I should be his heir. Then I asked, how long
time he would have me live with him? And he told me, “As long as he
lived himself.”
_Christian._ And what conclusion did you come to?
_Faith._ At first I was inclined to go with him; but looking on his
forehead, I saw there written, _Put off the old man with his deeds_.
_Christian._ And how then?
_Faith._ Then it came strongly into my mind, that however he flattered
me now, when he got me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave.
So I bade him say no more, for I would not come near the door of his
house. Then he reviled me and said, “He would send such a one after me,
as would make my way bitter to my soul.” So I turned away from him; but
just as I turned, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a
deadly twitch, that I thought he had pulled part of me after him. This
made me cry, _O wretched man!_ So I went on up the hill.
When I was but half-way up, I looked behind me and saw one coming after
me, swift as the wind. So soon as he overtook me, down he knocked me,
and laid me for dead. When I was come a little to myself I asked him,
Why he used me so? He said, for inclining to _Adam the First_. And with
that he struck me another blow on the breast, and beat me down backward.
When I came to myself again, I cried for mercy. But he said, “I know
not to shew mercy;” and knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an
end of me; but that one came by, and bade him “forbear.”
_Christian._ Who was he that bid him forbear?
_Faith._ I did not know him at first; but as he went by, I saw the
holes in his hands and in his side.
_Christian._ The man that overtook you was _Moses_. He spareth none
that transgress his law. But did you not see the house on the top of
the hill?
_Faith._ Yes; but it was about noon. So I past by.
_Christian._ Did you meet no one in the valley of _Humiliation_?
_Faith._ Yes, I met with one _Shame_: but I think he bears the wrong
name; for I could not get quit of him. He would never have done.
_Christian._ Why, what did he say to you?
_Faith._ He said, it was a low mean thing to mind religion; and that
a tender conscience was an unmanly thing: that few of the _mighty_, or
_rich_, or _wise_, regarded it; nor any of them, till they became fools;
till they were persuaded to venture the loss of all, for no body knows
what. He objected also, the base and low estate of most of those who
minded religion; likewise their ignorance and want of learning, yea, of
natural understanding. He said, It was a shame to sit whining under a
sermon, and to come sighing and groaning home: that it was a shame to
ask my neighbour forgiveness; to make restitution, if I had taken from
any; and, above all, to renounce all the men of credit and reputation,
and to consort only with the poor and base.
_Christian._ And what did you say?
_Faith._ I knew not what to say at first, till it came into my mind,
_That which is highly esteemed of men, is had in abomination with God_.
Then I saw what God says is best, is so, though all the men in the
world are against it. Therefore they who are fools for Christ’s sake,
are the wisest of men; and the poor man that loveth him, is richer than
he who hath thousands of gold and silver. I then said with a loud voice,
_Shame_, depart! Thou art an enemy to my salvation. _I am not ashamed
of the gospel of Christ_; neither of his ways, nor of his servants.
I will confess them all before men. So shall he confess me before my
Father which is in heaven.
_Christian._ Did you meet no body else in the valley?
_Faith._ No; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way, and also
through the _valley of the Shadow of Death_.
As they went on, _Faithful_ looking on one side, saw one walking at a
distance. He was a tall man, and more comely at a distance than at hand.
_Faithful_ accosted him in this manner:
_Faith._ Friend, whither away? Are you travelling toward mount _Zion_?
_Man._ To the very same.
_Faith._ I hope then we shall have your good company.
_Man._ With all my heart.
_Faith._ Come then, let us pass the time in discoursing of things
profitable.
_Man._ It is very acceptable to me to talk of good things. I am glad
I have met those that incline to so good a work. For, to speak the
truth, there are but few that care thus to spend their time, but rather
to speak of unprofitable things. And this hath been a trouble to me.
For what is so pleasant as to talk of the things of God? Who would not
delight to talk of miracles, wonders, and signs, which are so sweetly
penned in the holy scripture?
_Faith._ But, to be profited by the things we talk of should be our
chief design.
_Man._ Without doubt. And what so profitable as to talk of these
things? Of the vanity of earthly things, and the excellency of things
above? Or more particularly, of the insufficiency of our own, and
the need of Christ’s righteousness? Of the necessity of the new birth,
repentance, faith, and prayer, and all the graces of the holy Spirit?
_Faith._ I am glad to hear this from you.
_Man._ Alas, for want of this it is that so few understand the nature
of faith, and the necessity of an inward change, in order to eternal
life: but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which no flesh
can be justified. But indeed a man can receive nothing except it be
given him from above. All is of grace, not of works.
_Faith._ Well then, what shall we discourse of now?
_Man._ What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or earthly, things
moral or evangelical; things past or to come; provided that all be done
to edifying.
Now did _Faithful_ begin to wonder, and stepping to _Christian_, said
softly, What a brave companion have we got? At this _Christian_ smiled,
and said, “This man’s tongue will beguile twenty of them that know him
not.”
_Faith._ Do you know him then?
_Christian._ Yes, better than he knows himself. His name is _Talkative_;
he comes from our town; his religion lies in his tongue, but has no
place in his heart.
_Faith._ Then I am greatly deceived in him.
_Christian._ So you are. He is one of them that _say and do not_. He
talks of faith, of prayer, and of the new birth. But he only talks
of them. He is the stain and reproach of religion. It can scarce
have a good word where he lives, thro’ him. “A saint abroad, (say his
neighbours) and a devil at home.” His life has caused many to stumble
and fall, and probably will cause many more.
_Faith._ Well, I see saying and doing are two things.
_Christian._ Indeed they are, but poor _Talkative_ is not aware of
this: he thinks hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and so
deceives his own soul.
_Faith._ I am not so fond of his company now. But how shall we get rid
of him?
_Christian._ Why, begin a serious discourse on the _power of religion_:
and when he has _approved of it_, (for that he will) ask him plainly,
whether it be set up in his _heart_, in his _house_, and in his
_conversation_?
Then _Faithful_ stepped forward again, and said, Come, what cheer? How
is it now?
_Talk._ I thank you, I thought we should have had a great deal of talk
by this time.
_Faith._ Well then, let us begin; and since you leave me to chuse the
question, let it be this? How does the saving grace of God discover
itself, when it is in the heart of man?
_Talk._ I perceive then our talk is to be about the power of things.
Well, ’tis a very good question. I answer thus; first, where the
grace of God is in the heart, it causes a great outcry against sin.
Secondly,――
_Faith._ Nay, hold. Let us consider one at once. I think you should
rather say, it causeth the soul to abhor sin.
_Talk._ Why, what difference is there between crying out against, and
abhorring sin?
_Faith._ O, a great deal. I have heard many cry out against sin, who
could abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation. Some
cry out against sin, as a mother cries out against the child in her lap:
when she calls it slut and naughty girl; and then falls to kissing and
hugging it.
_Talk._ You lie at the catch, I perceive.
_Faith._ No, not I. I am only for setting matters right. But what is
the second thing, which discovers a work of grace in the heart?
_Talk._ Great knowledge of gospel mysteries.
_Faith._ This sign should have been first: but, first or last, it is
good for nothing. For there may be great knowledge, of the mysteries
of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in the heart: yea, though a man
have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing; and consequently no child of
God. When Christ said, Do ye know all these things? And the disciples
answered, yes: he said, _Happy are ye if ye do them_. He doth not lay
the blessing in knowing, but in doing them. Therefore this sign also is
not true.
_Talk._ You lie at the catch again. This is not for edification.
_Faith._ Well, if you please, mention any other sign how this work of
grace is discovered.
_Talk._ Not I; for I see we shall not agree.
_Faith._ Will you give me leave to do it?
_Talk._ You may use your pleasure.
_Faith._ A work of grace in the soul is discovered to him that has
it thus: first, He is convinced of sin, especially of the entire
corruption of his nature, and of unbelief; for which he is condemned
already, and hath the wrath of God abiding on him. Secondly, He
receiveth redemption in _Christ_’s blood, the ♦forgiveness of sins.
Thirdly, Being justified by faith, he hath that peace of God which
passeth all understanding. Fourthly, He rejoiceth in hope of the glory
of God; he rejoiceth that he hath now received the atonement, the
Spirit of God bearing witness with his spirit, that he is a child of
God. Fifthly, The love of God is shed abroad in his heart, by the Holy
Ghost which is given unto him. And, lastly, Hereby he knoweth he is of
God, because he keepeth his commandments and sinneth not.
♦ “foregiveness” replaced with “forgiveness”
It is discovered to others. 1. By his open confession of this faith,
and peace, and joy, and love, and power over sin. 2. By a life
answerable thereto; by universal obedience, by holiness in all manner
of conversation.
Would you object any thing to this? If not, give me leave to propose a
second question.
_Talk._ Nay, propose what you will.
_Faith._ Do you experience these things in your own heart? And doth
your life answer thereto? Pray, say no more than your conscience can
justify you in, and what you know God will say Amen to. For _not he
that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth_.
_Talk._ This kind of discourse I did not expect, nor am I disposed to
answer such questions. I am not bound to take you for my catechizer;
and I do not understand why you ask them.
_Faith._ I ask them, because (to tell you the truth) I have heard
that your religion lies in talk; that your life gives the lie to your
profession; that you are a spot among Christians; and, by your unholy
conversation, bring a reproach on that worthy name whereby we are
called.
_Talk._ Since you judge so rashly, and are so ready to take up evil
reports, you are not company for me; so farewel.
Then came up _Christian_, and said, I told you how it would be. You
did well to speak plainly. I wish all men would deal with such men as
you have done, and then either they would themselves come to be truly
religious, or the company of those that are so would be too hot for
them.
While he was yet speaking, they saw _Evangelist_ coming after them,
who soon overtook them, and said, “Peace be unto you. How hath it fared
with you, my friends, since the time of our last parting?”
Then _Christian_ and _Faithful_ told him of all things that had
happened to them on the way.
_Evangelist._ I am glad that in all things ye are more than conquerors.
I have sowed, and ye have reaped; and the day is coming, when both he
that sowed, and they that reaped, shall rejoice together; that is, if
ye endure to the end. For in due time ye shall reap, if ye faint not.
“My sons, you have heard in the words of the truth of the gospel, that
ye must, thro’ much tribulation, enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Therefore you cannot expect to go long on your pilgrimage, without
meeting that whereto ye are called. You have found something of the
truth of these testimonies already, and more will soon follow. For
you will come to a town by and by, where you will be hard beset with
enemies. But be ye faithful unto death, saith the Lord, and I will give
you a crown of life.”
Then I saw in my dream, that almost as soon he had left them, they came
in sight of a town called _Vanity_, where a great fair is kept all the
year long, called _Vanity-fair_.
At this fair are sold houses, lands, trade, places, honours,
preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms; delights of all sorts, wives,
husbands, children, masters, servants, silver, gold, precious stones,
blood, lives, bodies and souls of men.
Moreover, here are at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, games,
plays, fools, knaves, and those of every kind. Here are to be seen
too, and that for nothing, extortion, rapine, revenge, thefts, murders,
adulterers, false swearers, and that of a blood-red colour.
Now the way to mount _Zion_ lies just thro’ the place where this fair
is kept; and he that would not go thro’ this fair, must needs go out
of the world. Hither therefore _Christian_ and _Faithful_ came: but
no sooner did they appear, than all the people in the fair were moved,
and the town itself was in an uproar; and that for several reasons:
for, 1. Their raiment was quite different from that of any that traded
in the fair. 2. So was their speech; for they spoke the language of
_Canaan_, which few there understood: so that from one end of the fair
to the other, the men of the fair and they seemed barbarians to each
other: and, 3. They set light by all that was sold there; they cared
not so much as to look upon it; and if any called to them, they looked
up and cried, _Turn away my eyes from beholding vanity_.
To one who mocking, asked them, “What will you buy?” They answered,
“We buy the truth.” At that the uproar increased; some taunting, some
railing, and some calling upon others to smite them. Now was word
brought to the great one of the fair, who sent some of his trusty
friends, to enquire what these men were. So they were brought before
him and asked, Whence they came? Whither they went, and what they
did there in such an unusual garb? The men answered, “That they were
strangers and pilgrims in the world; that they were going to their own
country; and that they had given no occasion to the men of the town
thus to abuse and stop them in their journey.” But the examiners said,
“Either they were stark mad, or that they came on purpose to put all
things into confusion.” Therefore they took them, and besmeared them
with dirt, and then put them into the cage, to be a spectacle to all.
But the men being patient, and not rendering railing for railing, but
contrarywise blessing, some less prejudiced men began to check the
baser sort, for their continual abuses to them. These flew at them
again, telling them they were as bad as the men in the cage, and ought
to be put with them. The others replied. “That, for ought they could
see, the men meant no body any harm; and that there were many in the
fair who deserved to be punished more than those they thus abused.”
After many words, they fell to blows among themselves. Then were these
two examined again, and charged with being the authors of all this
mischief. So they beat them, and led them in chains up and down the
fair, for a terror to others, least they should again speak in their
behalf. But _Christian_ and _Faithful_ behaved yet more wisely, and
received all the contempt that was put upon them with such meekness,
that it won to their side several of the men in the fair. This put the
others into a still greater rage, so that they concluded upon their
death. Mean while they remanded them to the cage, and made their feet
fast in the stocks.
When a convenient time was come, they were brought forth, and arraigned.
The judge’s name was Lord _Hategood_. The substance of their indictment
was this “That they were enemies to, and disturbers of their trade;
that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and won over
some to their own pestilent opinions.”
The first witness against _Faithful_ was _Envy_, who spoke to this
effect. “My Lord, this man is one of the vilest men in our country. He
neither regards prince nor people, law nor customs; but is continually
turning the world upside down. And I myself heard him affirm, that the
customs of our town and Christianity could not be reconciled.”
They then called _Superstition_, who spake thus: “My Lord, I have
not much knowledge of this man, neither do I desire it; but this I
know, ♦that he is a pestilent fellow, and of very dangerous principles.
I heard him say, that our religion was naught, and such as it was
impossible to please God by. And your lordship very well knows, what
must follow from thence: that we worship in vain, and are still in our
sins.”
♦ duplicate word “that” removed
Then was _Pickthank_ called, and deposed as follows:
“My Lord, I have heard this fellow rail on our noble prince _Beelzebub_;
yea and speak contemptuously of his most honourable friends: nay, he
hath not been afraid to rail on you, my Lord, in the same terms, with
which he has bespattered most of the nobility and gentry of our town.”
The judge then said, thou traitor, hast thou heard what these honest
gentlemen have witnessed against thee?
_Faith._ May I speak a few words?
_Judge._ Sirrah, thou deservest to be slain immediately upon the place;
but that all men may see our gentleness to thee, we will hear what thou
hast to say.
_Faith._ I say, that all the customs of this place are flatly opposite
to the word of God: that your worship, being void both of faith and
love, is an abomination to the Lord; and that your prince with all his
attendants, are only fit for that hell which is prepared of old for him
and his angels.
_Judge._ Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard this man’s own
confession. What think ye?
_Jury._ We are all agreed. He is guilty of death.
Immediately after, sentence was past, they brought him out, to do
with him according to their law. And, after they had scourged him, and
buffeted him, they tied him to a stake, and then burnt him to ashes.
Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and horses
waiting for _Faithful_, who (so soon as the earthly tabernacle was
dissolved) was straightway carried therein thro’ the clouds. But
_Christian_ was remanded to prison, and shortly after discharged; he
that hath the hearts of all men in his hand, over-ruling the malice of
his enemies.
But he went not forth alone; for one, whose name was _Hopeful_, (having
been won by their meekness and patience in suffering) resolved to
accompany him wherever he went. He also told _Christian_, that there
were many more of the men in the fair, that would take their time and
follow after.
So they went on without stopping or looking behind them, till they came
to a pleasant plain, called _Ease_; but it was narrow, so that they
were quickly over it. On the farther side was a little hill, called
_Lucre_, and in that hill a silver mine, which many who went that way,
had formerly turned aside to see: but the ground breaking in with them,
they miserably perished. A little way off, over against it, stood one,
who called to _Christian_ and his fellow, “Ho! turn aside hither, and I
will shew you a thing.”
_Christian._ For what thing should we turn out of our way?
_Man._ Here is a mine of silver. Come and see.
_Hopeful._ Let us go and see it.
_Christian._ Not I. I have heard of this place before, and how many
have been slain here; that treasure is a snare to them that seek it,
and hindreth them in their pilgrimage.
_Man._ Will you not come over and see?
_Christian._ _Demas_, I know thee, who thou art. Thou art an enemy
to the right ways of the Lord. Thou hast been already condemned for
turning aside from his way. And wouldest thou bring us into the same
condemnation? Rather shall thy money perish with thee. So they went
their way.
Now I saw that on the other side of the plain, stood an old monument,
at the sight of which they were surprised; for it seemed as if it had
been a woman transformed into a pillar. For some time they could not
tell what to make of it, till they espied a writing upon the head,
which was, _Remember Lot’s wife_. Ah, my brother, said _Christian_,
this is a seasonable sight. Had we gone over to view the hill _Lucre_,
we had, for ought I know, been made like this woman a spectacle to all
generations.
_Hopeful._ How justly might I have been as she is! She only looked back;
and I desired to go and see. I am ashamed such a thought should be in
my heart.
_Christian._ Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help in
time to come. This woman escaped one judgment; for she fell not in
the destruction of _Sodom_; yet she was destroyed by another. She was
turned, as we see, into a pillar of salt.
I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which David
calleth, _The river of God_, but _John_, _the river of the water of
life_. Now their way lay on the bank of the river. Here they walked
with great delight; they drank also of the water of the river, which
was enlivening to their weary spirits. And on the banks on either side,
were green trees for all manner of fruit; and _the leaves were for the
healing of the nations_. On each side of the river was also a meadow,
curiously beautified with flowers; and it was green all the year long.
In this they lay down and slept; for here they might lie down safely:
but being not yet at their journey’s end, after a short time they
departed.
They had not journied far, before the river and the way divided from
each other. At this they were not a little sorry; yet they durst not go
out of the way. The path now grew more and more rough, and their feet
were tender with travelling. So the souls of the pilgrims were much
discouraged, by reason of the way. Now a little before them there was
a meadow on the left hand, and a stile to go over into it. Then said
_Christian_, if this meadow lies along by our way-side let us go into
it. He went to see, and a path lay along by the way, on the other side
of the fence. “’Tis as I wished, said _Christian_; here is a smooth
path; come let us go over.”
_Hopeful._ But how if it should lead us out of the way?
_Christian._ Nay, look, does it not go along by the road-side? So
_Hopeful_ went after him over the stile. When they were gone over,
they found the path very easy for their feet; and withal, they saw one
walking before them. They called and asked him, Whither that way led?
He said, to mount _Zion_. Look there, said _Christian_. Did I not tell
you so? So they followed, and he went before them; but the night coming
on, they soon lost sight of him.
He that went before (_Vain-confidence_ by name) not seeing the way,
(for it was very dark) fell into a deep pit, which was dug there on
purpose, and was dashed to pieces with his fall.
Now they heard him fall, and called to know what was the matter; but
there was none to answer, except with groans. Then said _Hopeful_,
Where are we now? But _Christian_ was silent, fearing he had led him
out of the way. And now it began to thunder and lighten, and rain; and
the waters in the meadow rose amain.
Then _Hopeful_ groaned in himself, and said, O that I had kept on my
way!
_Christian._ Who would have thought that this path should have led us
out of the way?
_Hopeful._ I was afraid at first, and should have spoke plainer, but
that you are older than I.
_Christian._ I am sorry I brought you out of the way. But we must not
stand still. Let us go back.
_Hopeful._ Let me go before.
_Christian._ No. I led you out of the way. If there be any danger, let
me be first therein.
_Hopeful._ Nay, you shall not go first; for your mind being troubled,
may bring you out of the way again. But by this time the waters were
greatly risen, so that the way was very dangerous. Yet they resolved
to go as far as they could. But it was so dark, and the flood so high,
that they could not, with all the skill they had, get again to the
stile that night. Wherefore, at last they sat down under a tree till
day should break; but being weary, they fell asleep. Now there was not
far off a castle called _Doubting-castle_, the owner whereof was giant
_Despair_, who rising early in the morning, and walking out, found
_Christian_ and _Hopeful_ asleep in his ground. With a surly voice, he
bid them awake, and asked, whence they came, and what they did there?
They told him they were pilgrims that had lost their way. Then said the
giant, you have trespassed upon my ground, and therefore must go along
with me. So he drove them before him into his castle, and cast them
into a dark and dismal dungeon, where they sunk in the mire and dirt.
And here they lay, without bread, or water, or light, or any to care
for, or comfort them.
The next morning the giant came to them again, and beat them in such
a manner, that they were scarcely able to help themselves, or to turn
themselves upon the floor; then he left them to bewail their misery,
and to mourn under their distress: so that all that day they spent
their time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The day
following he returned, and perceiving them to be sore with the blows
they had received, he told them, that since they were never likely
to escape, their best way was to put an end to their trouble at once.
“For what good,” said he, “will life do you? It is only heaping sorrow
upon sorrow.” He then left them to consider what to do; and they began
consulting together as follows.
_Christian._ Brother, what shall we do? Is it better to live thus, or
to die out of hand? In truth, _my soul chuseth strangling rather than
life_, and the grave is easier for me than this dungeon.
_Hopeful._ Why, death would be far more welcome to me, than to abide
thus for ever. But yet let us consider, our Lord has said, thou shalt
do no murder: and if we are forbidden to kill another, much more to
kill ourselves: for he that kills another, kills only his body; but he
that kills himself, kills both body and soul. Besides, you talk of ease
in the grave: but have you forgot the hell whither murderers go? And
let us consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of giant
_Despair_. Others, I understand, have been taken by him as well as we;
and yet have escaped out of his hands. Who knows but God may strike him
with death? Or that sometime he may forget to lock us in? For my part,
I am resolved to take heart, and to try the utmost to get from under
his hand. However, let us endure awhile. The time of release _may_ come:
and if not, whatever God permits, let us not be our own murderers.
Toward evening the giant came again, to see if his prisoners had taken
his counsel. But finding them alive, he fell into a grievous rage, and
told them, since they would not obey him, it should be far worse with
them than if they had never been born.
He went back, and they began to consult again, whether they should
take his advice or no? _Christian_ seemed to incline to it again: but
_Hopeful_ replied as follows:
“My brother, remembrest thou not, how valiant thou hast been
heretofore? _Apollyon_ could not destroy thee, nor all thou didst
meet in the _valley of the Shadow of Death_. What hardships hast thou
already gone through? And art thou now nothing but fears? Thou seest
I am in the dungeon as well as thou: also the giant has wounded me as
much as thee. He hath cut off the bread and water from my mouth too;
and I too mourn without the light. However, in our patience let us
possess our souls. Who knows how soon a change may come?”
The next morning the giant took them into the castle-yard, and shewed
them the bones and sculls with which it was strewed. “These, said he,
were once pilgrims as you are, and they trespassed on my ground; and,
when I saw fit, I tore them in pieces, as within ten days I will do you,
get you down till then into your dungeon.” So he drove them back, and
shut them in.
That night, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer
till near break of day.
Now, a little before it was day, _Christian_ as in amaze, broke out,
“What a fool am I to continue in this noisome dungeon, when I may as
well walk at liberty? I have a key in my bosom, called _Promise_, that
will, I am persuaded open any lock in _Doubting-castle_.” “That, said
_Hopeful_, is good news indeed; pluck it out of thy bosom and try.”
Then _Christian_ tried it at the dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned
the key) gave back, and the door flew open with ease. They went next
to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and, with this
key, opened that door also. The iron gate was next: but that lock went
very hard. Yet in awhile did the key open it: so they stopped not till
they came to the king’s highway, where they were out of the giant’s
jurisdiction.
Then they went on till they came to the _Delectable Mountains_, where
were gardens and orchards, and vineyards, and fountains of water: here
they drank and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the fruit of
the vineyards. Now there were on the top of these mountains, shepherds
feeding their flocks by the way-side. The pilgrims therefore went to
them, and asked, whose mountains are these? And whose are the sheep
that feed upon them?
_Shepherd._ These mountains are _Immanuel_’s land, and they are within
sight of his city. And the sheep that feed here are his also, and he
laid down his life for them.
_Christian._ Is there any relief in this place for pilgrims that are
weary and faint in the way?