• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Quote
 Memoir of John Bunyan
 Author's apology for his book
 Pilgrim's Progress
 Pilgrim's Progress from the world...
 Author's way of sending forth his...
 Publications of the Religious Tract...
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: Pilgrim's progress from this world to that which is to come : delivered under the similitude of a dream
Title: The pilgrim's progress from this world to that which is to come
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00015684/00001
 Material Information
Title: The pilgrim's progress from this world to that which is to come delivered under the similitude of a dream
Physical Description: xxxii, 350, <2> p., <23> leaves of plates : col. ill. ; 21 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Bunyan, John, 1628-1688
Religious Tract Society (Great Britain) ( Publisher )
John Childs and Son ( Printer )
Publisher: The Religious Tract Society
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: John Childs and Son
Publication Date: <1861?>
 Subjects
Subject: Christian life -- Fiction   ( lcsh )
Salvation -- Fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian pilgrims and pilgrimages -- Fiction   ( lcsh )
Allegories -- 1861   ( rbgenr )
Dialogues -- 1861   ( rbgenr )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1861   ( rbgenr )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1861   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1861
Genre: Allegories   ( rbgenr )
Dialogues   ( rbgenr )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by John Bunyan ; with a memoir of the author.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements follow text.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00015684
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002464298
oclc - 04168437
notis - AMG9686

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Title
    Quote
        Unnumbered ( 6 )
    Memoir of John Bunyan
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
        Unnumbered ( 11 )
        Unnumbered ( 12 )
        Unnumbered ( 13 )
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        Unnumbered ( 23 )
        Unnumbered ( 24 )
        Unnumbered ( 25 )
        Unnumbered ( 26 )
        Unnumbered ( 27 )
    Author's apology for his book
        Unnumbered ( 28 )
        Unnumbered ( 29 )
        Unnumbered ( 30 )
        Unnumbered ( 31 )
        Unnumbered ( 32 )
        Unnumbered ( 33 )
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    Pilgrim's Progress
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    Pilgrim's Progress from the world to that which is to come
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    Author's way of sending forth his second part of the pilgrim
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    Publications of the Religious Tract Society
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    Back Cover
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THE A THE 3ATE'









THE



PILGRIM'S PROGRESS


FROM



THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME;



DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM.





BY JOHN BUNYAN.



WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.






LONDON:
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY,
DEPOSITORIES, 56, PATERNOSTER ROW, 65, ST, PAUL'S
CHURCHYARD, AND 164, PICCADILLY;
AND SOLD BY THE BOOKSELLERS,

































Great pains have been taken in collating this edition with other copies, in order to
render it a correct reprint of the original work. The original side notes, which
often throw much light on the text, have been preserved. A very few expres-
sions, that from the lapse of time have become obsolete or offensive, have been
altered or omitted.





















MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN.




JOHn BUNYAN was born at Elstow, one mile from the town of
Bedford, in 1628. "His descent," to use his own words, was of a
low and inconsiderable generation, his father's house being of that
rank which is meanest and most despised of all the families in the
land." His father was a tinker and brazier. Whether he was a
gipsy has been disputed. In after years when John was in soul
distress, and was ignorantly but earnestly looking hither and thi-
ther for comfort, the thought occurred to him whether his family
" were of the Israelites or no ? For," he says, finding in the Scrip-
tures that they were once the peculiar people of God, thought I, if
I were one of this race, my soul must needs be happy. At last I
asked my father of it; who told me no, we were not." Whether
the father meant that his was not a gipsy family, or merely that the
gipsies were not, as many supposed them to be, Israelites, cannot
be determined. He is described in one of the earliest lives of Bun-
yan as an honest poor labouring man, who, like Adam unparadised,
had all the world before him to get his bread in." Even English
tinkers, however, were generally vagrants, and were often con-
founded with the gipsies.
The elder Bunyan, though a vagrant in his calling as a tinker,
had a home at Elstow, and John was put to school when a boy.








iV MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNTYAN.

He soon forgot, however, the little he had learned, and that almost
"utterly." His boyhood was spent in a course of rude, rough
wickedness. "It was my delight," he says, "to be taken captive
by the devil at his will; being filled with all unrighteousness; that
from a child I had but few equals both for cursing or swearing,
lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God."
He speaks of himself as a ring-leader of all the youth that kept
him company into all manner of vice and ungodliness." But when
he specifies the vices in which he indulged, he never mentions
drunkenness. The most daring profanity and reckless sabbath-
breaking are the crimes which seem ever to rise up before his
awakened conscience. "The strong depraving element in his cha-
racter was his ungodliness." And that which made him notorious
in the days of his ungodliness was the energy which he put into
all his wicked doings. There could be no mistaking whose servant
he was; he wrought the works of the devil without disguise.
The author of his Life published in 1692, who was one of his
personal friends, says that the first thing that sensibly touched
young Bunyan in his unregenerate state, was fearful dreams, and
visions of the night, which made him cry out in his sleep, and alarm
the house, as if somebody was about to murder him; and being
waked he would start, and stare about him with such a wildness,
as if some real apparition had yet remained; and generally those
dreams were about evil spirits, in monstrous shapes and forms, that
presented themselves to him in threatening postures, as if they
would have taken him away, or torn him in pieces."
The impressions thus produced were soon thrown off, and the
mad youth rushed on in his career of sin. He once fell into the
sea, and another time out of a boat into Bedford river," the Ouse,
and both times had a narrow escape from drowning. One day in
the field with a companion, an adder glided across their path. Bun-
yan stunned it in a moment with a stick, and, with characteristic
daring, forced open the creature's mouth, and plucked out the
fangs-a foolhardiness which, as he himself observes, might, but
for God's mercy, have brought him to his end. But he was neither
startled nor changed by these deliverances.









MEMOIR OF JOHN BITNYAN. V

That such a youth should enter the army will occasion no sur-
prise. He was at the siege of Leicester in 1645, and most probably
among the royal troops. Here he had another narrow escape. He
was appointed to a particular post. But when ready to set out, a
comrade asked leave to take his place. Bunyan consented, and his
companion, while standing sentry, was shot through the head, and
died. But even this made no impression on Bunyan's mind.
"Whether he left the army when Charles was routed at the battle
of Naseby, or was discharged, is not known. He returned to his
native place only hardened in sin, and resolved to indulge in his
accustomed pleasures. His neglecting his business, and following
gaming and sports, to put melancholy thoughts out of his mind,
which he could not always do, rendered him," he tells us, "very
poor and despicable." One advantage Bunyan derived from his
brief military career-he gained a familiarity with military ideas
and expressions, which he turned to good account when, many
years afterwards, he wrote his Holy War."
When twenty years old, John Bunyan married. And," he says,
" my mercy was to light upon a wife whose father was counted godly.
This woman and I, though we came together as poor as poor might
be-not having so much household stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt
us-yet this she had for her portion, The Plain Man's Pathway to
Heaven,' and 'The Practice of Piety,' which her father left her
when he died." The young wife induced her husband to read
these books, and became a great blessing to him.
He now "fell in very eagerly," he tells us, with the religion
of the times, to wit, to go to church twice a day." He "said and
sang as others did, yet retained his wicked life. He was withal
" so overrun with a spirit of superstition," that he adored, and
that with great devotion, both the high place, priest, clerk, vestment,
service, and what else belonged to the church."
But superstition and practical ungodliness are no enemies to
each other. On Sunday morning John Bunyan could worship the
priest and the clerk and the church vestment; but on Sunday after-
noon he was found among the foremost sabbath-breakers on Elstow
Green.









Vi MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAIN.

One day the minister preached on the evil of breaking the sab-
bath, either with labour, sports, or otherwise; and Bunyan left the
church with a great burden on his spirit. But he had no sooner
eaten his dinner, than he shook the sermon out of his mind," and
returned to his sports with great delight. His pleasure, however,
was short-lived. In the midst of a game of cat," he says, a voice
did suddenly dart from heaven into my soul, which said,' Wilt thou
leave thy sins and go to heaven ? or have thy sins and go to hell ?"
At this I was put into an exceeding maze." And the only escape
he found from his perplexity was in despair. Like those of old who
said, There is no hope : no ; for we have loved strangers, and after
them will we go; John Bunyan said, I have been a great and
grievous sinner; Christ will not forgive me. If the case be thus,
my state is surely miserable; miserable if I leave my sins, and but
miserable if I follow them. I can but be damned, and if I must be
so, I had as good be damned for many sins, as be damned for few."
For a month or more the poor man, thus tossed between hope
and despair, between remorse and the love of sin, went on in his
evil ways, only grudging that he could not get such scope as his
heart desired, when, one day standing at a neighbour's window,
cursing and swearing, and, "playing the madman after his wonted
manner," the woman of the house protested that he made her trem-
ble, and that truly he was the ungodliest fellow for swearing that she
ever heard in all her life, and quite enough to ruin the youth of the
whole town. The woman was herself a notoriously worthless cha-
racter; and so severe a reproof, from so strange a quarter, had a
singular effect on Bunyan's mind. He was silenced in a moment.
He blushed before the God of heaven; and wished with all his
heart that he were a little child again, that his father might teach
him to speak without profanity; for he thought his habit so in-
veterate now, that reformation was out of the question. Neverthe-
less, so it was, from that day he was cured of this wicked practice,
and people wondered at the change.
One by one John Bunyan gave up his outward sins. He made
many concessions to conscience, while as yet he had not yielded his
heart to the Saviour. It was slowly, and regretfully, however that








MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN. vii

he cut off the right hand," and pulled out "the right eye of his
sins. One of his principal amusements was bell-ringing, or the
merry peals with which the villagers used to divert themselves on
the Sunday afternoons. It was only by degrees that he was able to
abandon this favourite pastime. What if one of the bells should
fall," he thought ? To provide against this contingency, he took his
stand under a beam fastened across the tower. But what if the
falling bell should rebound from one of the side walls, and hit me
after all ? This second thought sent him down-stairs, and made
him take his station at the steeple door. But, what if the steeple
itself should come down ? This thought banished him altogether
from the scene, and he bade adieu to bell-ringing.
John Bunyan, thus outwardly reformed, both in his words and
life, set the commandments, as he tells us, before him for his way
to heaven; which commandments," he says, I also did strive to
keep, and, as I thought, did keep them pretty well sometimes, yet
now and then should break one, and so afflict my conscience; but
then I should repent, and say I was sorry for it, and promise God
to do better next time, and there got help again; for then I thought
I pleased God as well as any man in England. Thus I continued
about a year, all which time our neighbours did take me to be a
very godly man-a new and religious man-and did marvel much
to see such great and famous alteration in my life and manners.
And indeed so it was, though I knew not Christ, nor grace, nor
faith, nor hope; for, as I have well since seen, had I then died, my
state had been most fearful. But, I say, my neighbours were
amazed at this my great conversion from prodigious profaneness
to something like a moral life; and so they well might, for this my
conversion was as great as for Tom of Bedlam to become a sober
man. Now, therefore, they began to speak well of me, both before
my face and behind my back. Now I was, as they said, become
godly-now I was become a right honest man. But, oh, when I
understood these were their words and opinions of me, it pleased
me mighty well."*

"* This and other extracts are from what may be called a spiritual autobiography
of John Bunyan, writtenwhile he was in Bedford jail, the original title of which is








V1ii MEMOIR OF JOIH BUNYAN.

"While in this self-satisfied and self-righteous state of mind, John
Bunyan went one day to Bedford in the prosecution of his calling,
and found three or four poor women sitting at a door in the sun
talking about the things of God." "Their talk," he says, was
about a new birth, the work of God in their hearts, as also how they
were convinced of their miserable state by nature; they talked how
God visited their souls with his love in the Lord Jesus, and with
what words and promises they had been refreshed, comforted, and
supported against the temptations of the devil. Moreover they rea-
soned of the suggestions and temptations of Satan in particular; and
told to each other, by what means they had been afflicted, and how
they were borne up under his assaults. They also discoursed of
their own wretchedness of heart, and of their unbelief; and did con-
temn, slight, and abhor their own righteousness, as filthy and insuf-
ficient to do them any good.
"And methought," he continues, "they spake as if joy did
make them speak; they spake with such pleasantness of Scripture
language, and with such appearance of grace in all they said, that
they were to me as if they had found a new world; as if they were
'people that dwelt alone, and were not to be reckoned among their
neighbours.'*
"At this I felt my own heart began to shake, and mistrust my
condition to be naught; for I saw that in all my thoughts about
religion and salvation the new birth did never enter into my mind;
neither knew I the comfort of the word and promise, nor the deceit-
fulness and treachery of my own wicked heart. As for secret
thoughts, I took no notice of them; neither did I understand what
Satan's temptations were, nor how they were to be withstood and
resisted.

as follows :-" Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners: or, a brief and faithful re-
lation of the exceeding mercy of God in Christ to his poor servant, John Bunyan:
wherein is particularly showed the manner of his conversion, his sight and trouble
for sin, his dreadful temptations; also how he despaired of God's mercy, and how
the Lord at length through Christ did deliver him from all the guilt and terror that
lay upon him." It was written, according to the title page, "for the benefit of the
tempted and dejected Christian."
*Numb. xxiii. 4.








MEMOIR OF JOllN UINYAN. ix

"Thus, therefore, when I had heard and considered what they
said, I left them, and went about my employment again. But their
talk and discourse went with me; also my heart would tarry with
them, for I was greatly affected with their words, both because by
them I was convinced that I wanted the true tokens of a truly
godly man, and also, because by them I was convinced of the
happy and blessed condition of him that was such a one."
Bunyan began now to read the Bible with great eagerness.
Those portions which he had hitherto disliked, the epistles of Paul,
became the subject of his special study. He fell in, at the same
time, with a sect of practical Antinomians, whose maxim was, that
nothing is sin but what a man thinks to be so. He was strongly
tempted to adopt this notion. But God," he says, who had,
as I hope, designed me for better things, kept me in the fear
of his name, and did not suffer me to accept such cursed prin-
ciples."
He now finally parted from all his wicked companions. "There
was a young man in our town," he says, "to whom my heart before
was bent more than to any other; but he being a most wicked crea-
ture, I now shook him off and forsook his company. But about a
quarter of a year after I had left him, I met him in a certain lane,
and asked him how he did. He, after his own swearing and mad
way, answered he was well. 'But, Harry,' said I, 'why do you
curse and swear thus ? What will become of you if you die in this
condition ?' He answered me in a great chafe, 'what would the
devil do for company, if it were not for such as I am ?' There is
a wild strange pathos," says one, "in the contrast between the old
companions parting on the road of life-the affectionate tenderness
of Bunyan, and the dare-devil recklessness of his friend."
"About this time," he tells us, the state and happiness of
these poor women at Bedford was thus, in a kind of vision, presented
to me. I saw as if they were on the sunny side of some high moun-
tain, there refreshing themselves with the pleasant beams of the
sun, while I was shivering and shrinking in the cold, afflicted with
frost, snow, and dark clouds. Methought, also, betwixt me and
them I saw a wall that did compass about this mountain. Now








X MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN.

through this wall my soul did greatly desire to pass, concluding
that, if I could, I would even go into the very midst of them, and
there also comfort myself with the heat of their sun. About this
wall I thought myself to go again and again, still prying as I went,
to see if I could find some gap or passage to enter therein. But
none could I find for some time. At the last, I saw, as it were, a
narrow gap, like a little doorway in the wall, through which I at-
tempted to pass. Now, the passage being very strait and narrow,
I made many efforts to get in; but all in vain, even till I was right
beat out in striving to get in. At last, with great striving, me-
thought I at first did get in my head, and after that, by a sideling
striving, my shoulders and my whole body. Then I was exceeding
glad, went and sat down in the midst of them, and so was comforted
with the light and heat of their sun. Now this mountain and wall
were thus made out to me. The mountain signified the church of
the living God; the sun that shone thereon, the comfortable shining
of his merciful face on them that were therein; the wall, I thought,
was the Word, that did make separation between the Christian and
the world; and the gap which was in the wall I thought was Jesus
Christ, who is the way to God the Father. But forasmuch as the
passage was wonderful narrow, even so narrow that I could not,
but with great difficulty, enter in threat, it showed me that none
could enter into life but those who were in downright earnest, and
unless they left that wicked world behind them-; for there was only
room for body and soul, but not for body and soul and sin."
This waking dream, as it seems to have been, did Bunyan
good. He was no longer a proud Pharisee, but a deeply humbled
sinner. My original and inward pollution-that was my plague
and affliction," he says; that I saw at a dreadful rate, always
putting forth itself within me; that I had the guilt of to amaze-
ment; by reason of that I was more loathsome in my own eyes
than a toad; and I thought I was so in God's eyes too."
Years of despondency, however, passed over him before he came
to the enjoyment of the peace of the gospel.
The light which first stole in upon his soul, and before which
his darkness finally melted away, was, he tells us, a clear discovery








MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN. Xl

of the person of Christ, more especially a distinct perception of the
dispositions which he manifested while here on earth. And one
thing greatly helped him. The providence of God threw in his
way an old copy of Luther's Commentary on Galatians, so old,"
he says, that it was ready to fall piece from piece if I did but
turn it over. When I had but a little way perused the book, I
found my condition in his experience so largely and profoundly
handled, as if his book had been written out of my heart." His
happiness was now as intense as his misery had been. He wished
he were fourscore years old, that he might die quickly, that he
might go to be with Him who had made his soul an offering for
his sins. But another period of fearful agony awaited him, and,
like the last, it continued for a year. It arose from a temptation
which took this strange and dreadful form-to sell and part with
his Saviour, to exchange Him for the things of this life-for any-
thing. This horrid thought he could not shake out of his mind,
day nor night, for many months together. It intermixed itself with
every occupation, however sacred, or however trivial. The only
case he could compare to his own was that of Judas Iscariot. At
last, after many alternations of feeling, he so far emerged from his
misery that he seemed to stand upon the same ground with other
sinners, and to have as good a right to the word and prayer as any
of them." This was a great step in advance. Relief came slowly
but steadily, and was the more abiding because he had learned by
experience to distrust any comfort which did not come from the
word of God. Such passages as these, My grace is sufficient for
thee," and Him that cometh to me I will in nowise cast out,"
greatly lightened his burden; but he derived still stronger encou-
ragement from considering that the gospel, with its benignity, is
much more expressive of the mind and disposition of God than the
law with its severity. Mercy rejoiceth over judgment." "How
shall not the ministration of the Spirit be rather glorious ? For if
the ministration of condemnation be glory, much more doth the
ministration of righteousness exceed in glory. For even that which
was made glorious had no glory in this respect, by reason of the
glory that excelleth." 2 Cor. iii. 8-10.








xii MiEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN.

One day, as he was passing into the field, these words fell upon
his soul, Thy righteousness is in heaven." I saw, moreover," he
says, "that it was not my good frame of heart that made my right-
eousness better, nor my bad frame that made my righteousness worse;
for my righteousness was Jesus Christ himself, the same yesterday,
to-day, and for ever." He was now loosed from his bondage; his
temptations fled away; and he went home rejoicing for the grace
and love of God. The words, Thy righteousness is in heaven,"
were not to be found in the Bible, but then there were these, He
is made of God unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctifi-
cation, and redemption."
This blessed truth was his peace with God. He was complete
in Christ Jesus.
The occasion of the lengthened conflict through which John
Bunyan passed into the kingdom of God, is not to be found in the
gospel, but in himself. It was partly the result of his excitable
temperament and an unbridled imagination. His sensitiveness
amounted almost to disease. His passions and his love of sin were
strong. And withal he was in early life very ignorant. Of one
portion of the bitter struggles by which his progress to life was
retarded he has himself said, that he was tossed between the devil
and his own ignorance." A man cannot have too deep a sense of
his guilt and sin in the sight of God. But when deeply abased
before his Maker, he often finds it hard to confide in Jesus Christ,
as able to save to the uttermost. The way to the cross of Christ
is very direct, and so plainly laid down in the Bible chart, that he
" may run that readeth it." But men create difficulties to them-
selves and get out of the way, now to the right hand, and now to
the left, and it is only after wearying themselves in vain with their
devices that they consent to say-

"Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee,
0 Lamb of God, I come."

In the year 1653, being the twenty-fifth of his age, John Bun.








MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN, Xlll

yan avowed his faith in Christ by connecting himself with the Bap-
tist Congregation in Bedford, of which those good women were
members whose conversation had proved so profitable to his soul.
His pastor was as illustrious a monument of Divine grace as himself.
John Gifford, when a young man, had been licentious and daringly
ungodly. Being engaged in a royalist rising in Kent, he was
arrested, and, with eleven of his comrades, was sentenced to die.
The night before the day fixed for his execution, his sister came to
visit him. She found the guard asleep, and assisted her brother to
effect his escape. For three days the fugitive lay hid in a field, in
the bottom of a deep ditch, but at last got away to a place of safety
in the neighbourhood of Bedford. There, being a perfect stranger,
he ventured on the practice of physic, and abandoned himself to
reckless habits and outrageous vice. One evening he lost a large
sum of money at the gaming table; and, in the fierceness of his
chagrin, his mind was filled with the most desperate thoughts of
the providence of a God. In his vexation he snatched up a book,
a sentence of which so fixed itself on his conscience, that for many.
weeks he could get no rest in his spirit. At last he found peace
through the blood of the cross, and his joy was great. For some
time the few pious individuals in that neighbourhood would not
believe that such a reprobate was really converted. But nothing
daunted by their distrust, like Saul of Tarsus, he began to preach
the word with boldness, and great success attended his ministry.
In John Gifford, John Bunyan found a congenial friend and an
instructive teacher. But his mental struggles were not yet at an
end. "For three-quarters of a year," he says, "fierce and sad
temptations did beset me to blasphemy, that I could never have
rest, nor find ease." But obeying the Divine command resist the
devil," he received the fulfilment of the Divine promise, "and he
will flee from you."
Soon after, Bunyan was threatened with consumption, and was
compelled to look death in the face. His outward profession of
religion and the good opinion of his fellow-men were rightly judged
by him to be no sufficient evidence of his preparation for eternity.
And when he began to recall his former experience of the Divine








Xiv MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN.

goodness, an innumerable company of his sins flashed" into his
memory, such sins as deadness and coldness in holy duties, wander-
ings of heart, and want of love to God and his ways. These are
sins of which the unregenerate mind is unconscious, but they
almost overwhelmed the tender conscience of John Bunyan. And
"his soul was now greatly pinched," to use his own words, "be-
tween these two considerations, Live I must not, die I dare not!
but," he adds, "as I was walking up and down in my house, as a
man in a most woeful state, that word of God took hold of my
heart, ye are 'justified freely by his grace through the redemption
that is in Jesus Christ,' Rom. iii. 24. And, oh! what a turn it
made upon me!
Now was I as one awakened out of some troublesome sleep
and dream; and listening to this heavenly sentence, I was as if I
had heard it thus expounded to me :-' Sinner, thou thinkest that,
because of thy sins and infirmities, I cannot save thy soul; but
behold my Son is by me, and upon him I look, and not on thee,
and will deal with thee according as I am well pleased with him !' "
John Bunyan's position in society had greatly improved by this
time; he was no longer in danger of being confounded either
morally or socially with gipsies. His family was increased,"
says one who knew him personally; and God increased his stores
so that he lived now in great credit with his neighbours." Religion
had elevated his character, and thereby elevated his condition in
life. He soon became conscious of gifts which qualified him for
doing good to his fellow-men, and was persuaded by the church to
which he belonged to give himself to preaching in the villages
around Bedford. He entered on this work in 1655, and not a few
Christian churches sprang up as the fruit of his labours. Thus
began, in a spirit of deep humility and self-examination, the minis-
try of one who has been well described as "teacher alike of the
infant and the aged ; .directing the first thought, and removing the
last doubt of man; property alike of the peasant and the prince;
welcomed by the ignorant and honoured by the wise; the prose
poet of all time."
So lowly were the village preacher's notions of himself that at








MEMOIR OF JOHN BIUNYAN. XV

first he could not believe that God should speak by him to the
heart of any man." But many were moved by his glowing words.
He preached what he felt, "what he smartingly felt of the terrors
of the law and the guilt of sin. He carried that fire in his own
conscience, he says, that he persuaded his hearers to beware of.
The Lord did lead me to begin," he says, "where the word begins
with sinners; that is, to condemn all flesh, and to open and allege,
that the curse of the law doth belong to and lay hold on all men
as they come into the world because of sin. Now this part of my
work I fulfilled with great sense; for the terrors of the law, and
guilt for my transgressions, lay heavy on my conscience. Thus I
.went on for the space of two years, crying out against men's sins,
and their fearful state because of them. After which the Lord
came in upon my soul with some sure peace and comfort through
Christ; for he did give me many discoveries of his blessed grace
through him. Wherefore now I altered in my preaching, for still
I preached what I saw and felt. Now therefore I did much labour
to hold forth Jesus Christ in all his offices, relations, and benefits
unto the world, and did strive also to discover, to condemn, and
remove all those false supports and props on which the world doth
both lean, and by them fall and perish. On these things also I
stayed as long as on the other. After this, God led me into some-
thing of the mystery of union with Christ; wherefore, that I dis-
covered and showed to them also. And when I had travelled
through these three chief points of the word of God, I was caught
in my present practice, and cast into prison, where I have lain
alone as long again to confirm the; truth by way of suffering, as I
was before in testifying of it according to the Scriptures in a way of
preaching."
On one occasion he was expected to preach in a parish church
near Cambridge, (for churches were often so used during the Pro-
tectorate of Cromwell,) and a concourse of people had already col-
lected in the churchyard. A gay student was riding past, when he
noticed the crowd, and asked what had brought them together. iHe
was told the people had come out to hear one Bunyan, a tinker,
preach. He instantly dismounted and gave a boy two-pence to hold







Xvi MEMOIR OF JOHN BTUNYAN.

his horse, for he declared he was determined to hear the tinker
prate. So he went into the church and heard the tinker; but so
deep was the impression which that sermon made on the scholar,
that he took every subsequent opportunity of attending on Bunyan's
ministry, and himself became a successful preacher of the gospel in
Cambridgeshire.
In 1660, Charles II. was restored to the throne of his fathers.
Before leaving his exile at Breda he had issued a proclamation in
which he promised liberty to tender consciences, and that no man
should be disquieted or called in question for differences of opinion
in religion, which did not disturb the peace of the kingdom." But
these promises were made only to be broken. The most cruel mea-
sures were adopted to crush every difference of opinion." "Ten-
derness and freedom of conscience were utterly disregarded. But
many were resolved to obey God rather than man; and, in spite of
the vigilance of magistrates and informers, meetings for worship
were held, often indeed at most unseasonable hours. It is said that
on one occasion, to avoid discovery, John Bunyan went from a
friend's house disguised as a carter, with his white frock, and his
whip in his hand, to attend a private meeting in a sheltered field or
barn.
For some time John Bunyan and his friends escaped capture.
They met privately in barns, milk-houses, and stables. The good
man embraced every opportunity of administering consolation to his
friends and arming them with a steady resolve to be patient in
suffering, and to trust in God for their safety and reward. At
length an information was laid against him, and steps were taken
to seize him in the act of worshipping God with some pious neigh-
bours. On November 12, 1660, as the winter was setting in, having
been invited to preach at Samsell in Bedfordshire, he prepared a
sermon upon these words; "Dost thou believe- in the Son of
God ? John ix. 35.
Francis Wingate, a neighboring justice of the peace, having
heard of the intended meeting, issued his warrant to bring the
preacher before him. The intention of the magistrate was whispered
about, and came to Bunyan's ears before the meeting was held.








MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN. XVii

His friends advised him to forego the service. It was a trying mo-
ment for him; he had a beloved wife and four dear children, one of
them blind, depending upon his daily labour for food. If he escaped
he might continue his stolen opportunities of doing good to the souls
of men. He hesitated but for a few minutes; he had hitherto
shown himself hearty and courageous in preaching, and it was his
business to encourage the timid flock. He retired to seek Divine
direction, and came back resolved to abide the will of God. It was
the first attempt near Bedford to apprehend a preacher of the gos-
pel, and he thus argued with himself: If God, of his mercy, should
choose me to go upon the forlorn hope, that is to be the first that
should be opposed for the gospel, if I should fly it might be a dis-
couragement to the whole body that should follow after. And I
thought that the world would thereby take occasion at my coward-
liness to blaspheme the gospel." It was a great mercy, he said to
his friends, that they had been kept from crimes which might have
caused their apprehension as thieves and murderers.
"When brought before Justice Wingate, John Bunyan was asked
and urged to promise not to preach again. One word would have
secured his liberty. But that word would have sacrificed his religious
convictions, and these were dearer to him than life itself. He had
the reward of his fidelity in the joy with which he was enabled to
suffer shame and go to prison. "Verily," he says, as I was going
forth of the doors I had much ado'to forbear saying to them, that
I carried the peace of God along with me; and, blessed be the
Lord, I went away to prison with God's comfort in my poor soul."
Many attempts were made to induce Bunyan to promise that if
set at liberty he would not preach again. Even the judge at the
Bedford assizes entered into a long argument with him, but all in
vain. Then," said the judge, a coarse and cruel man, hear your
judgment. You must be had back again to prison, and there lie
for three months following; and then, if you do not submit to go to
church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must
be banished the realm: and after that, if you shall be found in this
realm without special license from the king, you must stretch by
the neck for it." The hero answered, I am at a point with you:
b








xviii MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN.

if I were out of prison to-day I would preach the gospel again to-
morrow, by the help of God."
At the end of three months Bunyan became anxious to know
what his enemies intended to do with him. But to give up or
shrink from his profession of Christ he dared not. He familiarized
his mind with all the circumstances of an appalling death; and the
gibbet and the halter lost much of their terrors. He even studied
the sermon which he would preach to the spectators of his execu-
tion. But Charles II. was pleased to celebrate his coronation in
April 1661, by ordering the release of numerous prisoners of cer-
tain classes, and to one of these classes Bunyan belonged. This
stayed further proceedings in his case. But all attempts to effect
his liberation failed. Felons and men guilty of various misde-
meanours were let loose upon society to grace the coronation;"
but John Bunyan and other prisoners for conscience' sake were left
to pine in loathsome dungeons.
The prison in which John Bunyan spent twelve long years stood
on the old bridge which spanned the river Ouse at Bedford. It
was a miserable place, scarcely fit to be the habitation of dogs,
well called a den in the first sentence of the Pilgrim's Progress.
But even here the good man would not be idle. One of his first
concerns was how to provide for his wife and four children. He
had lost the wife of his youth some time before, and her illness and
death seem to have absorbed all the savings of the brazier's indus-
try. His second wife was a modest, timid woman, but in her
spirit worthy of her noble-minded husband. His parting with her
was as the pulling of the flesh from the bones." His heart was
peculiarly moved by the condition of his blind child. But this
promise came to his relief-" Leave thy fatherless children, I will
preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me." The promise
encouraged his industry, and he learned to make long-tagged laces,
which he was permitted to sell at his prison door, his much-loved
blind daughter often standing by his side.
Nor was he without opportunities of doing good to the souls of
his fellow-prisoners. At one time there were not fewer than sixty
suffering for conscience' sake imprisoned with him, "by which








MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN. xix

means," says one who visited him, the prison was very much
crowded; yet in the midst of all that hurry which so many new-
comers occasioned, I have heard Mr Bunyan both preach and pray
with that mighty spirit of faith and plerophory (full assurance) of
Divine assistance that has made me stand and wonder." His fame
for wisdom brought him many visitors from the country all around,
who came with their doubts and fears and cases of conscience to
be solved. And a wise and tender-hearted counsellor he was.
Some of his jailers were cruel men; but one of them appre-
ciated his character, and allowed him much freedom. During the
latter portion of his imprisonment he was permitted to preach in
the villages and woods, and on one occasion to go to London to
visit his friends. This last act of liberty well nigh cost the jailer
his post, and the prisoner was more strictly confined for some time
after. But this strictness was gradually relaxed, and it is said that
many of the Baptist congregations in Bedfordshire owe their origin
to his midnight preaching. For months together he was a con-
stant attender of the church meetings of his brethren in Bedford,
and was actually chosen pastor during the period of his incarcera-
tion. On one occasion, a messenger was sent from London to
Bedford to ascertain the truth of the rumours which were abroad
as to the liberty which was granted to him. The officer was instruct-
ed to call at the prison during the night. It was a night when
Bunyan had received permission to stay at home with his family;
but so uneasy did he feel that he told his wife he must go back to
his old quarters. So late was it, that the jailer blamed him for
coming at such an untimely hour; but a little after the messenger
arrived. "Are all the prisoners safe ? Yes." "Is John Bun-
yan safe ? Yes." "Let me see him." Bunyan was called,
and the messenger went his way; and when he was gone, the jailer
told Bunyan, Well, you may go out again just when you think
proper, for you know when to return better than I can tell you."
His release was effected finally only through the intercession of
certain members of the Society of Friends; one of their number
having assisted the king eighteen years before, in his flight from
England after the battle of Worcester.
b2








XX MEMOIR OF JOHN BV3NYAN.

The chief memorial of John Bunyan's long imprisonment from
1660 to 1672, is the composition of that book of world-wide fame
and usefulness-" The Pilgrim's Progress from this world to the
next."
Its origin is thus described by himself:-

"I writing of the way
And race of saints, in this our gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things, which I set down.
This done, I twenty more had in my crown;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.
Nay then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'11 put you by yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out
"The book that I already am about.
*
Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white.
For having now my method by the end,
Still as I pulled it came, and so I penn'd
It down; until at last it came to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see."

Bunyan read his composition to his fellow-prisoners as it ad-
vanced in progress, to their no small instruction and even amuse-
ment. But while some approved, others doubted the propriety of
such a mode of setting forth Divine truth. And these doubts on
the part of'even good men prevented the publication of the book
for several years after the author's liberation from prison.

Some said, John, print it; others said, Not so ;
Some said it might do good, others said no."

The world has reason to bless God that this precious writing was
put into the printer's hands. There are few nations under heaven
which cannot now read in their own tongue the thoughts of that
honest Bedford tinker who preferred a prison with a good con-








MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN. xxi

science to all the sweets of liberty enjoyed at the cost of infidelity
to Christ.
The Committee of the Religious Tract Society have largely
aided in supplying funds for the translation and printing of this
useful book in various languages. Amongst these are-

Language. For the people of
Europe. .. English ........ England, America, and other parts.
Dutch ......... Holland and South Africa.
Danish ......... Denmark.
French ........ France and Switzerland.
Spanish ........ Spain and South America.
Portuguese ...... Portugal and Madeira.
German ........ Germany.
Esthonian ....... Esthonia, in Russia.
Armenian ...... Armenia, in Turkey.
Modern Greek Greece.
Asia ...... Burmese, or Karen Burmah.
Singhalese '. .. .. Ceylon.
Oriya ......... Orissa.
Teloogoo ....... Northern India.
Hindostani, or Urdu East Indies.
Bengalee ....... Bengal.
Tamil ........ .Madras.
Marathi ....... Bombay.
Canarese ... Bangalore, Mangalore.
Gujerati ....... .Surat.
Malay ......... Malacca, and other places in the East Indies.
Malayalim ...... Travancore.
Arabic ...... .Arabia.
South Seas.. Samoan........ Samoan Islands.
Tahitian ....... Tahiti.
Africa ..... Bechuana ...... South Africa.
Malagasy...... Madagascar.

Not a few other books were written by the busy pen of John
Funyan during his imprisonment ;* and we have his own testimony
that notwithstanding all the evils to which he was subjected he was
a happy man. Fetters could not tame his spirit, nor prevent his
communion with God.
The entire works of Bunyan comprise upwards of sixty books or treatises.









Xxii MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN.

When John Bunyan finally left Bedford jail, he was forty-four
years of age. His first concern was to make suitable arrangements
for carrying on his worldly business, which he seems to have done
through his family to the end of his life. At the same time he
entered with all his soul into his beloved work of preaching and
writing, to set forth the glories of his Saviour. As a pastor he was
indefatigable in visiting the sick, preaching from house to house,
and otherwise promoting the kingdom of Christ, till in a short time
he obtained the appellation of Bishop Bunyan." He visited Lon-
don once a year, where his ministry was so much prized that 1200
people would assemble to hear him at a morning lecture by seven
o'clock, on a working day, in the dark winter-time."
Among his hearers were to be found the learned as well as the
unlearned. Dr John Owen, when he had the opportunity, sat at
the feet of the unlearned but eloquent tinker. Charles II., hearing
of it, asked the Doctor, How a man of his great erudition could
sit to hear a tinker preach ? To which he replied, May it please
your Majesty, if I could possess the tinker's ability for preaching I
would gladly give in exchange all my learning."
In 1682, Bunyan's church at Bedford suffered much persecution.
For a season it was driven from its meeting-house, and obliged to
assemble in the fields. It was in the same year that he published
his beautiful allegory of The Holy War." Bunyan escaped the
dangers of the evil reign of James II. He was closely watched by
the enemies of liberty, but all that he suffered was the occasional
spoiling of his goods. Neither violence nor allurements could divert
him from the onward path of duty.
The last year of his life was one of its busiest. He published
six volumes, and left twelve others prepared for publication. Six
months before James II. was driven from his throne, this holy man
of God was taken to his rest. In the beginning of that memorable
year, 1688, he had been prostrated by the sweating sickness," but
had recovered so far as to be able to undertake a work of mercy,
from the fulfilment of which he ascended to his Father and his God.
A friend of Bunyan's who lived at Reading had threatened to
disinherit his son, and his end was approaching. The son was








MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN. Xxiii

much concerned at his father's estrangement, and begged Mr Bun-
yan to intercede on his behalf. To accomplish this object, the good
man undertook a journey to Reading on horseback, was successful
in renewing the bonds of amity between father and son, and was
returning from Reading to London, when he was thoroughly
drenched with excessive rain. Cold and wet, he arrived at the house
of Mr Strudwick, a grocer on Snow-Hill, where he was seized with
violent fever.
During the ten days which followed, he enjoyed a holy frame
of mind. His last words, while struggling with death, were, Weep
not for me, but for yourselves. I go to the Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, who will, no doubt, through the mediation of his
blessed Son, receive me though a sinner; where I hope we ere long
shall meet, to sing the new song, and remain everlastingly happy
world without end. Amen." He thus felt the ground solid under
his feet in passing the black river," which has no bridge," and
followed his pilgrim into the celestial city on the 12th of August,
1688, in the sixtieth year of his age.
Devout men carried all that was mortal of him to its last resting-
place in Bunhill Fields, London, and great lamentation was made
over him.
















THE



AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.



WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand
Thus for to write, I did not understand
That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode; nay, I had undertook
To make another; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware I this begun.

And thus it was: I writing of the way
And race of saints, in this our gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things which I set down:
This done, I twenty more had in my crown;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast
I'11 put you by yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad if/iul//l,* and eat out
The book that I already am about.
"* Without end.








THE AUTHOR S APOLOGY. XXV

Well, so I did; but yet I did n6t think
To show to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbour: no, not I;
I did it my own self to gratify.

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble: nor did I intend
But to divert myself in doing this,
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss
Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white.
For having now my method by the end,
Still as I pulled, it came; and so I penn'd
It down: until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together,
I showed them others, that I might see whether
They would condemn them, or them justify:
And some said, Let them live; some, Let them die;
Some said, John, print it; others said, Not so;
Some said, It might do good; others said, No.

Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:
At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided,
I print it will; and so the case decided.

For, thought I, some I see would have it done,
Though others in that channel do not run:








XXvi THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.

To prove, then, who advised for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, thus to gratify;
I did not know, but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.
For those which were not for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you I am loth :
Yet since your brethren pleased with it be;
Forbear to judge, till you do further see.

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.
Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus expostulate:

May I not write in such a style as this ?
In such a method too, and yet not miss
My end-thy good ? Why may it not be done ?
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
But treasures up the fruit they yield together;
Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit
None can distinguish this from that; they suit
Her well when hungry; but if she be full
She spews out both, and makes their blessing null.

You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish; what engines doth he make !







THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. XXvii

Behold how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares, lines, angles' hooks, and nets;
Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:
They must be groped for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catch'd, whatever you do.

How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By divers means all which one cannot name :
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell,
He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell
Of all his postures ? Yet there's none of these
Will make him master of what fowls he please.
Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this;
Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss.
If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell,
And may be found too in an oyster-shell;
If things that promise nothing do contain
What better is than gold; who will disdain,
That have an inkling of it, there to look,
That they may find it ? Now my little book
(Though void of all these paintings that may make
It with this or the other man to take)
Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave, but empty notions dwell.

"Well, yet I am not fully satisfied,
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried."

Why, what's the matter ? It is dark." What though ?
"But it is feigned." What of that ? I trow
"* Hint, whisper, intimation.







xxviii THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.

Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine,
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine.
"But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind.
"They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind."

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men:
But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws,
His gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors ? Yet loth
Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault
The highest wisdom! No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out what by pins and loops,
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,
God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.

Be not too forward therefore to conclude
That I want solidness-that I am rude:
All things solid in show not solid be;
All things in parable despise not we,
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth: yea, whoso considers








THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY XXIX

Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see,
That truths to this day in such mantles be

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these things,
Dark figures, allegories ? Yet there springs
From that same book, that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.

Come, let my carper to his life now look,
And find there darker lines than in my book
He findeth any; yea, and let him know,
That in his best things there are worse lines too.

May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I durst adventure ten,
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, truth, although in swaddling clothes, I find
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit, the memory too it doth fill
With what doth our imagination please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid
The use of parables; in which lay hid
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.








XXX THE AUTHOR S APOLOGY.

Let me add one word more. 0 man of God,
Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had
Put forth my matter in another dress ?
Or, that I had in things been more express ?
Three things let me propound; then I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.

1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse
Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,
In application; but all that I may
Seek the advance of truth this or that way.
Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave,
(Example too, and that from them that have
God better pleased, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days,)
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2. I find that men as high as trees will write
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so: indeed, if they abuse
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,
Which way it pleases God: for who knows how,
Better than he that taught us first to plough,
To guide our minds and pens for his design ?
And he makes base things usher in divine.








THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. XXXi

3. I find that holy writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another:
Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother
Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.

And now, before I do put up my pen,
I'11 show the profit of my book; and then
Commit both thee and it unto that hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize :
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes;
What he leaves undone; also what he does:
It also shows you how he runs and runs
Till he unto the gate of glory comes.
It shows, too, who set out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would obtain:
Here also you may see the reason why
They lose their labour, and like fools do die.

This book will make a traveller of thee,
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be;
It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand:
Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profitable ?
Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable ?








xxxii THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.

Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New-year's day to the last of December ?
Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,
And may be to the helpless, comforters.

This book is writ in such a dialect,
As may the minds of listless men affect:
It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ?
"Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ?
Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation ?
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ?
Dost thou love picking meat ? Or wouldst thou see
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ?
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ?
"Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm,
And find thyself again without a charm ?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,
By reading the same lines ? 0 then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

JOHN BUNYAN.













THE


PILGRIM'S PROGRESS,


IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM.




As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted
on a certain place where was a den,* and laid me
The Jail.
down in that place to sleep; and as I slept, I
dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man
clothed with rags standing in a certain place, with his face
from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden
upon his back, Isa. lxiv. 6; Luke xiv. 33; Psa. xxxviii. 4. 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 brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, What
shall I do ? Acts ii. 37; xvi. 30; Hab. i. 2, 3.
In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained
himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should
not perceive his distress; but he could not be silent long,
because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he
brake his mind to his wife and children; and thus he began to
talk to them. 0 my dear wife, said he, and you the children
Bedford Jail, in which the author was a prisoner for conscience' sake.
B








2 THE PILGRIM'S DEPLORABLE CONDITION.

of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by
reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am
certainly informed that this our city will be burnt
This world.
with fire from heaven; in which fearful overthrow,
both myself, with thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall
He knows no miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet I
way of escape
as yet. see not) some way of escape can be found, whereby
we may be delivered. At this his relations were sore amazed;
not for that they believed that what he had said to them was
true, but because they thought that some phrensy distemper
had got into his head; therefore, it drawing towards night, and
they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste
they got him to bed. But the night was as troublesome to him as
the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs
and tears. So when the morning was come, they would know
how he did. He told them, Worse and worse: he also set to
talking to them again ; but they began to be hardened. They
Carnal physic also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh
for a sick soul. and surly carriage to him: sometimes they would
deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes they would
quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to
his chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his
own misery; he would also walk solitarily in the fields, some-
times 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 in his book, and greatly
distressed in his mind; and as he read, he burst out as he had
done before, crying, What shall I do to be saved ?" Acts
xvi. 30, 31.
I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as if he








EVANGELIST DIRECTS HIM ARIGHT. 3

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
named Evangelist coming to him,"and 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 judg-
ment, Heb. ix. 27; and I find that I am not willing to do the
first, Job xvi. 21, 22, nor able to do the second, Ezek. xxii. 14.
Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this
life is attended with so many evils ? The man answered, Be-
cause I fear that this burden that is upon my back will sink
me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet, Isa. xxx.
33. And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go
to judgment, and from thence to execution; and the thoughts
of these things make me cry.
Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why stand-
est thou still ? He answered, Because I know not Conviction of
the necessity
whither to go. Then he gave him a parchment of fleeing.
roll, and there was written within, "Fly from the wrath to
come," Matt. iii. 7.
The man therefore read it, and, looking upon Evangelist
very carefully, said, Whither must I fly ? Then said Evangel-
ist, (pointing with his finger over a very wide field,) Do you
see yonder wicket-gate ? Matt. vii. 13, 14. The man said,
No. Then said the other, Do you see yonder Christ and
shining light? Psa. cxix. 105; 2 Pet. i. 19. the way to him
cannot befound
He said, I think I do. Then said Evangelist, without the
Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly word.
thereto, so shalt thou see the gate; at which, when thou
knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. So I saw
in my dream that the man began to run. Now he had not
B 2








4 OBSTINATE AND PLIABLE PURSUE HIM.

run far from his own door, when his wife and children, per-
ceiving it, began to cry after him to return; but the man put
his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life life! eternal
life Luke xiv. 26. So he looked not behind him, Gen. xix.
17, but fled towards the middle of the plain.
The neighbours also came out to see him run, Jer. xx. 10;
and as he ran some mocked, others threatened, and
Theythat flee
from the wrath some cried after him to return; and among those
to come are a
gazing-stock to that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch
the world. him back by force. The name' of the one was
Obstinate, and the name of the other Pliable. Now by this
time the man was got a good distance from them; but how-
ever they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, and in
a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, Neigh-
bours, wherefore are ye come ? They said, To persuade you to
go back with us. But he said, That can by no means be : you
dwell, said he, in the city of Destruction, the place also where
I was born: I see it to be so; and dying there, sooner or later
you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns
with fire and brimstone: be content, good neighbours, and go
along with me!
OBST. What! said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our
comforts behind us !
CHR. Yes, said Christian, (for that was his name,) because
that all is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I
am seeking to enjoy, 2 Cor. iv. 18; and if you will go along
with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there,
where I go, is enough and to spare, Luke xv. 17. Come
away, and prove my words.
OBsT. What are the things you seek, since you leave all
the world to find them ?


























~










.i.II..
N't








TH PH
T PIGI ADHS UDN








HIS DIALOGUE WITH OBSTINATE AND PLIABLE. 5

CHR. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and
that fadeth not away, 1 Pet. i. 4; and it is laid up in heaven,
and safe there, Heb. xi. 16, to be bestowed, at the time ap-
pointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you
will, in my book.
OBsT. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book; will you
go back with us or no ?
CHR. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my hand
to the plough, Luke ix. 62.
OBST. Come then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again, and
go home without him: there is a company of these crazy-
headed coxcombs, that when they take a fancy by the end, are
wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a
reason.
PLI. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the good
Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better than
ours: my heart inclines to go with my neighbour.
OBST. What! more fools still! Be ruled by me and go
back; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead
you ? Go back, go back, and be wise.
CHR. Come with me, neighbour Pliable; there are such
things to be had which I spoke of, and many more Christian and
glories besides. If you believe not me, read here Obstinte pll
in this book; and for the truth of what is expressed SOUl.
therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that
made it, Heb. ix. 17-21.
PLI. Well, neighbour Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin to
come to a point; I intend to go along with this Pliable con-
Ssenteth to go
good man, and to cast in my lot with him: but, with Christian.
my good companion, do you know the way to this desired
place ?








6 OBSTINATE GOES BACK.

CHR. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist,
to speed me to a little gate that is before us, where we shall
receive instruction about the way.
PLT. Come then, good neighbour, let us be going. Then
they went both together.
OBST. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate: I
Obstinate will be no companion of such misled, fantastical
goes railing
back. fellows.
Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was gone
Talkbetween back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the
Christian and
Pliable. plain; and thus they began their discourse.
CHR. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do ? I am
glad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had even Ob-
stinate himself but felt what I have felt of the powers and
terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have
given us the back.
PLI. Come, neighbour Christian, since there are none but
us two here, tell me now further, what the things are, and how
Sto be enjoyed, whither we are going.
CHR. I can better conceive of them with my mind than
God's things speak of them with my tongue: but yet, since
unspeakable. you are desirous to know, I will read of them in
my book.
PLI. And do you think that the words of your book are
certainly true ?
CHR. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot
lie, Tit. i. 2.
PLI. Well said; what things are they ?
CHR. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and
everlasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit that king-
dom for ever, Isa. xlv. 17; John x. 27-29.







DIALOGUE BETWEEN CHRISTIAN AND PLIABLE. 7

PLI. Well said; and what else ?
CHR. There are crowns of glory to be given us; and gar-
ments that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of
heaven, 2 Tim. iv. 8 ; Rev. xxii. 5 ; Matt. xiii. 43.
PLI. This is excellent; and what else ?
CHR. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow: for He
that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes,
Isa. xxv. 8; Rev. vii. 16, 17; xxi. 4.
And what company shall we have there ?
CHR. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims,
Isa. vi. 2; 1 Thess. iv. 16, 17; Rev. v. 11; creatures that
will dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall
meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before
us to that place; none of them are hurtful, but loving and
holy; every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in
his presence with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we
shall see the elders with their golden crowns, Rev. iv. 4; there
we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps, Rev.
xiv. 1-5; there we shall see men, that by the world were cut
in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas,
for the love they bare to the Lord of the place, John xii. 25;
all well, and clothed with immortality as with a garment, 2
Cor. v. 2, 3, 5.
PLI. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart.
But are these things to be enjoyed ? How shall we get to be
sharers thereof?
CHR. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath recorded
that in this book, Isa. Iv. 1, 2; John vi. 37; vii. 37; Rev.
xxi. 6; xxii. 17; the substance of which is, If we be truly will-
ing to have it, he will bestow it upon us freely.








8 THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND.-PLIABLE GOES BACK.

PLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these
things: come on, let us mend our pace.
CHR. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this bur-
den that is on my back.
Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this
talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough, that was in the
midst of the plain; and they being heedless, did both fall sud-
The slough denly into the bog. The name of the slough was
of Despond. Despond. Here therefore they wallowed for a
time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian,
because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink in
the mire.
PLI. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbour Christian, where
are you now ?
CHR. Truly, said Christian, I do not know.
PLI. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said
to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this
while of? If we have such ill speed at our first setting out,
what may we expect between this and our journey's end ?
May I get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave
It is not country alone for me. And with that he gave a
enough to be
pliable. desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire
on that side of the slough which was next to his own house:
so away he went, and Christian saw him no more.
Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of
Christian, in Despond alone: but still he endeavoured to struggle
trouble, seeks
still to get far- to that side of the slough that was farthest from
other from his
own house. his own house, and next to the wicket-gate; the
which he did, but could not get out because of the burden that
was upon his back: but I beheld in my dream, that a man












































l.~,




























TH, SLUG S :!








CHRISTIAN LIFTED OUT BY HELP. 9

came to him, whose name was Help, and asked him, What he
did there ?
CHR. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a
man called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate,
that I might escape the wrath to come. And as I was going
thither, I fell in here.
HELP. But why did not you look for the steps ? The promises.
CHR. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way,
and fell in.
HELP. Then said he, Give me thine hand: so he gave him
his hand, and he drew him out, Psa. xl. 2, and set Help lifts him
him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way. out.
Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, Sir,
wherefore, since over this place is the way from the city of
Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is not mended,
that poor travellers might go thither with more security ?
Andche said unto me, This miry slough is such a place as can-
not be mended: it is the descent whither the scum What makes
the Slough of
and filth that attends conviction for sin doth con- Despond.
tinually run, and therefore it is called the Slough of Despond;
for still as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition,
there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging
apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle in
this place. And this is the reason of the badness of this
ground.
It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should re-
main so bad, Isa. xxxv. 3, 4. His labourers also have, by the
direction of his Majesty's surveyors, been for above these six-
teen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if
perhaps it might have been mended: yea, and to my know-
ledge, said he, here have been swallowed up at least twenty







10 THE STEPS OF THE PROMISES.-PLIABLE GETS HOME.

thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions,
that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the
King's dominions, (and they that can tell, say, they are the best
materials to make good ground of the place,) if so be it might
have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despond still, and
so will be when they have done what they can.
True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain
Sprom good and substantial steps, placed even through
The promise
of forgiveness the very midst of this slough; but at such time
and acceptance
to life by faith as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it
SChrist. doth against change of weather, these steps are
hardly seen; or if they be, men, through the dizziness of their
heads, step beside, and then they are bemired to purpose, not-
withstanding the steps be there; but the ground is good when
they are once got in at the gate, 1 Sam. xii. 23.
Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got
Pliable got home to his house. So his neighbours came to
home, and is visit him; and some of them called him wise man
visited by his
neighbours, for coming back, and some called him fool for
hazarding himself with Christian: others again did mock at
his cowardliness; saying, Surely, since you began to venture,
I would not have been so base to have given out for a few
difficulties: so Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at last
he got more confidence, and then they all turned their tales,
and began to deride poor Christian behind his back. And
thus much concerning Pliable.
Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he
Mr. Worldly espied one afar off, coming crossing over the field to
Wiseman meets
with Christian. meet him; and their hap was to meet just as they
were crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name
that met him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman: he dwelt in the







CHRISTIAN MEETS MR. WORLDLY WISEMAN. 11

town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also hard-by
from whence Christian came. This man then, meeting with
Christian, and having some inkling* of him, (for Christian's
setting forth from the city of Destruction was much noised
abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began
to be the town talk in some other places,)-Mr Worldly Wise-
man therefore having some guess of him, by beholding his
laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and the
like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian.
WORLD. How now, good fellow, whither away Talk betwixt
after this burdened manner ? wsemorldly
Wiseman and
CHR. A burdened manner, indeed, as ever I Christian.
think poor creature had! And whereas you ask me, Whither
away ? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket-gate before
me; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way to
be rid of my heavy burden.
WORLD. Hast thou a wife and children ?
CHR. Yes; but I am so laden with this burden, that I can-
not take that pleasure in them as formerly : methinks I am as
if I had none, 1 Cor. vii. 29.
WORLD. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee counsel ?
CHR. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need of good
counsel.
WORLD. I would advise thee then, that thou with all speed
get thyself rid of thy burden; for thou wilt never worldly
be settled in thy mind till then: nor canst thou Wiman's
counsel to
enjoy the benefits of the blessings which God hath Christian,
bestowed upon thee till then.
CHR. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this
heavy burden : but get it off myself I cannot; nor is there
Slight knowledge.







12 THEIR CONVERSATION.

any man in our country that can take it off my shoulders;
therefore am I going this way, as I told you, that I may be
rid of my burden.
WORLD. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden ?
CHR. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and
honourable person: his name, as I remember, is Evangelist.
WORLD. I beshrew* him for his counsel! there is not a
Mr. Worldly more dangerous and troublesome way in the world
wiseman con- than is that into which he hath directed thee;
demnethEvan-
geist'scounsel. and that thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by
his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I perceive,
already; for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon
thee; but that slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do
attend those that go on in that way. Hear me; I am older
than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness,
sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, and
what not. These things are certainly true, having been con-
firmed by many testimonies. And why should a man so care-
lessly cast away himself, by giving heed to a stranger ?
CHR. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible
to me than all these things which you have mentioned: nay,
The frame of methinks I care not what I meet with in the way,
the heart of a if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my
young Chris-
tian. burden.
WORLD. How camest thou by thy burden at first ?
CHR. By reading this book in my hand.
WORLD. I thought so; and it has happened unto thee as
He does not to other weak men, who, meddling with things too
like that men high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distrac-
Wish a curse to.







CONVERSATION WITH MR. WORLDLY WISEMAN. 13

tions; which distractions do not only unman men, should be seri-
ous in reading
as thine I perceive have done thee, but they run the Bible.
them upon desperate ventures to obtain they know not what.
CHR. I know what I would obtain; it is ease from my
heavy burden.
WORLD. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing
so many dangers attend it ? especially since (hadst thou but
patience to hear me) I could direct thee to the obtaining of
what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way
wilt run thyself into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Be-
sides, I will add, that instead of those dangers, thou shalt meet
with much safety, friendship, and content.
CHR. Pray, sir, open this secret to me.
WORLD. Why, in yonder village (the village is named
Morality) there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a
very judicious man, and a man of a very good name, that has
skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is He prefers
morality before
from their shoulders; yea, to my knowledge, he the strait gate.
hath done a great deal of good this way; ay, and besides, he
hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits
with their burdens. To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be
helped presently. His house is not quite a mile from this
place; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a
pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility, that can
do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself: there,
I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art
not minded to go back to thy former habitation, (as indeed I
would not wish thee,) thou mayest send for thy wife and
children to thee to this village, where there are houses now
standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable
rate: provision is there also cheap and good; and that which








14 CHRISTIAN AFRAID OF MOUNT SINAI.

will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure there thou
shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good fashion.
Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he
Christian concluded, If this be true which this gentleman
"snared by r. hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice;
Worldly Wise-
"man's words. and with that he thus further spake.
CHR. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house ?
Mount Sinai. WORLD. Do you see yonder high hill ?
CHR. Yes, very well.
WORLD. By that hill you must go, and the first house you
come at is his.
So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's
house for help: but behold, when he was got now
Christian
afraid that hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that
Mount Sinai
would fall on side of it that was next the way-side did hang so
his head. much over, that Christian was afraid to venture
farther, lest the hill should fall on his head; wherefore there
he stood still, and wotted* not what to do. Also, his burden
now seemed heavier to him than while he was in his way.
There came also flashes of fire, Exod. xix. 16, 18, out of the
hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burnt: here
therefore he did sweat, and quake for fear, Heb. xii. 21. And
now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly
Wiseman's counsel: and with that he saw Evangelist coming
to meet him, at the sight also of whom he began to blush for
Evangelist shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer;
indeth Chris- and coming up to him, he looked upon him with a
tian under
Mount Sinai. severe and dreadful countenance, and thus began
to reason with Christian.
EVAN. What dost thou here, Christian ? said he: at
"* Knew.







EVANGELIST MEETS HIM UNDER MOUNT SINAI. 15

which words Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore
at present he stood speechless before him. Then
Evangelist
said Evangelist further, Art not thou the man that reasons afresh
with Christian.
I found crying without the walls of the city of
Destruction ?
CHR. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.
EVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-
gate ?
CHR. Yes, dear sir, said Christian.
EVAN. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned
aside ? For thou art now out of the way.
CHR. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over
the Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in
the village before me, find a man that could take off my burden.
EVAN. What was he ?
CHR. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me,
and got me at last to yield: so I came hither; but when I
beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly
made a stand; lest it should fall on my head.
EVAN. What said that gentleman to you ?
CHR. Why, he asked me whither I was going; and I
told him..
EVAN. And what said he then ?
CHR. He asked me if I had a family: and I told him.
But, said I, I am so laden with the burden that is on my
back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly.
EVAN. And what said he then ?
CHR. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I
told him it was ease that I sought: And, said I, I am there-
fore going to yonder gate, to receive further direction how I
may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would







16 EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM OF HIS ERROR.

show me a better way, and short, not so attended with diffi-
culties as the way, sir, that you set me in; which way, said
he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to
take off these burdens: so I believed him, and turned out of
that way into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my bur-
den. But when I came to this place, and beheld things as
they are, I stopped, for fear (as I said) of danger; but I now
know not what to do.
EVAN. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I
Evangelist may show thee the words of God. So he stood trem-
convinces him
of his error. bling. Then said Evangelist, See that ye refuse
not Him that speaketh: for if they escaped not who refused
him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we
turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven," Heb. xii.
25. He said, moreover, "Now the just shall live by faith;
but if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in
him," Heb. x. 38. He also did thus apply them; Thou art
the man that art running into misery; thou hast begun to
reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy
foot from the way of peace, even almost to the hazarding of
thy perdition.
Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, Woe
is me, for I am undone! At the sight of which Evangelist
caught him by the right hand, saying, "All manner of sin
and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men," Matt. xii. 31.
"Be not faithless, but believing," John xx. 27. Then did
Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at
first, before Evangelist.
Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest heed
to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will now show thee
who it was that deluded thee, and who it was also to whom he





























IV

Az:









if'









































































































THE PILGRIM A.NDEV:Gk.







EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM OF HIS ERROR. 17

sent thee. That man that met thee is one Worldly Mr. Worldly
Wiseman; and rightly is he so called; partly be- Wisemn d-
cause he savoureth only of the doctrine of this vangelist.
world, 1 John iv. 5; (therefore he always goes to the town of
Morality to church;) and partly because he loveth that doc-
trine best, for it saveth him from the cross, Gal. vi. 12: and
because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to per-
vert my ways, though right. Now there are three things in
this man's counsel that thou must utterly abhor:
1. His turning thee out of the way.
2. His labouring to render the cross odious to thee.
3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto
the administration of death.
First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way;
yea, and thine own consenting thereto; because this is to re-
ject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of a Worldly
Wiseman. The Lord says, Strive to enter in at the strait
gate," Luke xiii. 24; the gate to which I send thee; "for
strait is the gate that leadeth unto life, and few there be that
find it," Matt. vii. 13, 14. From this little wicket-gate, and
from the way thereto, hath this wicked man turned thee, to
the bringing of thee almost to destruction: hate therefore his
turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for hearkening
to him.
Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the
cross odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it before the
treasures of Egypt, Heb. xi. 25, 26. Besides, the King of
glory hath told thee, that he that will save his life shall lose
it. And he that comes after him, and hates not his father,
and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters,
C







18 EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM OF HIS ERROR.

yea, and his own life also, he cannot be his disciple, Mark
viii. 38; John xii. 25; Matt. x. 39; Luke xiv. 26. I say,
therefore, for man to labour to persuade thee that that shall be
thy death, without which, the truth hath said, thou canst not
have eternal life: this doctrine thou must abhor.
Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way
that leadeth to the ministration of death. And for this thou
must consider to whom he sent thee, and also how unable that
person was to deliver thee from thy burden.
He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Le-
gality, is the son of the bond-woman which now is, and is in
bondage with her children, Gal. iv. 21-27; and is, in a mys-
tery, this mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy
head. Now if she with her children are in bondage, how canst
thou expect by them to be made free ? This Legality, there-
fore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man
was as yet ever rid of his burden by him; no, nor ever is like
to be: ye cannot be justified by the works of the law; for by
the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his burden.
Therefore Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality
is a cheat; and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his sim-
pering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee.
Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast
heard of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy
salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had set
thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for
confirmation of what he had said; and with that there came
words and fire out of the mountain under which poor Christian
stood, which made the hair of his flesh stand up. The words
were thus pronounced, As many as are of the works of the







EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM OF HIS ERROR. 19

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," Gal. iii. 10.
Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to
cry out lamentably; even cursing the time in which he met
with Mr. Worldly Wiseman; still calling himself a thousand
fools for hearkening to his counsel. He also was greatly
ashamed to think that this gentleman's arguments, flowing
only from the flesh, should have the prevalency with him so
far as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he
applied himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as fol-
lows.
CHR. Sir, what think you? Is there any hope ? May I
now go back, and go up to the wicket-gate ? shall I not be
abandoned for this and sent back from thence Christian in-
ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened to this "yt f ihamppy
mans counsel; but may my sin be forgiven ?
EVAN. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great,
for by it thou hast committed two evils; thou hast forsaken
the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths. Yet will
the man at the gate receive thee, for he has good- Evangelist
will for men; only, said he, take heed that thou comforts him.
turn not aside again, lest thou "perish from the way, when
his wrath is kindled but a little," Psa. ii. 12. Then did Chris-
tian address himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he had
kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed; so he
went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way;
nor if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them an answer.
He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden
ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again
he was got into the way which he had left to follow Mr.
c2








20 CHRISTIAN KNOCKS AT THE GATE.

Worldly Wiseman's counsel; so in process of time, Christian
got up to the gate. Now over the gate there was written,
"Knock, and it shall be opened unto you," Matt. vii. 7.
He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying,

May I now enter here ? Will he within
Open to sorry me, though I have been
An undeserving rebel? Then shall I
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high."

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good-
will, who asked who was there, and whence he came, and what
he would have.
CHR. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the
city of Destruction, but am going to mount Zion, that I may
be delivered from the wrath to come : I would therefore, sir,
since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know
if you are willing to let me in.
The gate will GOOD. I am willing with all my heart, said he:
be opened to and with that he opened the gate.
broken-hearted
sinners. So when Christian was stepping in, the other
gave him a pull. Then said Christian, What means that ?
The other told him, A little distance from this gate, there is
erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain;
from thence both he and they that are with him shoot arrows
Satan envies at those that come up to this gate, if haply they
those thatenter
the strait gate. may die before they can enter in. Then said
Christian en- Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was
ters the gae got in, the man of the gate asked him who directed
trembling. him thither.
CHR. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as I did:
Talk between and he said, that you, sir, would tell me what I
Goodwill and
Christian. must do.







TALK WITH GOODWILL. 21

GOOD. An open door is set before thee, and no man can
shut it.
CHR. Now I begin to reap the benefit of my hazards.
GooD. But how is it that you came alone ?
CHR. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, as
I saw mine.
GooD. Did any of them know of your coming ?
CHR. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and
called after me to turn again: also some of my neighbours
stood crying and calling after me to return; but I put my
fingers in my ears, and so came on my way.
GooD. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you
to go back ?
CHR. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable: but when they saw
that they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but
Pliable came with me a little way.
GooD. But why did he not come through ?
CHR. We indeed came both together until we came to the
Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell.
And then was my neighbour Pliable discouraged, and would
not adventure farther. Wherefore, getting out
A man may
again on the side next to his own house, he told hae company
me I should possess the brave country alone for him: when he sets
so he went his way, and I came mine; he after an yet go thi-
ther alone.
Obstinate, and I to this gate.
GooD. Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man! is the celestial
glory of so little esteem with him, that he counteth it not
worth running the hazard of a few difficulties to obtain it ?
CaH. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable;
and if I should also say the truth of myself, it will hristia ac-
Cappear there is no bec- betwixt him and csth hise
appear there is no betterment betwixt him and cuseth himself







22 TALK WITH GOODWILL.

before the man myself. 'Tis true, he went back to his own house,
at the gate. but I also turned aside to go into the way of
death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one
Mr. Worldly Wiseman.
GOOD. Oh did he light upon you ? What! he would have
had you seek for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality They are
both of them a very cheat. But did you take his counsel ?
CHR. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr.
Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands by his
house would have fallen upon my head; wherefore there I was
forced to stop.
GooD. That mountain has been the death of many, and
will be the death of many more: it is well you escaped being
by it dashed in pieces.
CHn. Why truly I do not know what had become of me
there, had not Evangelist happily met me again as I was
musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was God's mercy
that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither.
But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for
death by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my
Lord. But, oh! what a favour is this to me, that yet I am
admitted entrance here!
GooD. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding
all that they have done before they come hither: they in no
Christian is wise are cast out, John vi. 37. And therefore,
comforted a-
gain, and di- good Christian, come a little way with me, and I
reacted yet on
his way. will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look
before thee; 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, and it is as straight as a rule can make
it: this is the way thou must go.







CHRISTIAN REACHES THE INTERPRETER S HOUSE. 23

CHR. But, said Christian, are there no turnings Christian a-
nor winding, by which a stranger may lose his afraid of losing
way? his way.
way ?
GooD. Yes, there are many ways abut down upon this;
and they are crooked and wide; but thus thou mayest dis-
tinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being strait
and narrow, Matt. vii. 14.
Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further,
if he could not help him off with his burden that Christian
weary of his
was upon his back. For as yet he had not got rid burden.
thereof, nor could he by any means get it off without help.
He told him, "As to thy burden, be content There is no
to bear it, until thou comest to the place of deliver- deliverance
from the guilt
ance; for there it will fall from thy back of and burden of
sin, but by the
itself." deathandblood
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and of Christ.
to address himself to his journey. So the other told him,
that by that he was gone some distance from the gate, he
would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he
should knock, and he would show him excellent things. Then
Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him
God-speed.
Then he went on till he came at the house of Christian
the Interpreter, where he knocked over and over. comes to the
At last one came to the door, and asked who was Interpreter.
there.
CHR. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaint-
ance of the good man of this house to call here for his profit;
I would therefore speak with the master of the house.
So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little
time, came to Christian, and asked him what he would have.







24 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE.

CHR. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from
the city of Destruction, and am going to mount Zion; and I
was told by the man that stands at the gate at the head of this
way, that if I called here you would show me excellent things,
such as would be helpful to me on my journey.
INTER. Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will show
Illumination. thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he
He is enter-
tained. commanded his man to light the candle, and bid
Christian follow him; so he had him into a private room, and
bid his man open a door; the which when he had done,
Christian Christian saw the picture of a very grave person
sees a brave
picture. hang up against the wall; and this was the fashion
of it: it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in its
hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world
was behind its back; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a
crown of gold did hang over its head.
CIR. Then said Christian, What meaneth this ?
INTER. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand.
He can say in the words of the apostle, Though ye have ten
thousand instructors in Christ, yet have ye not many fathers;
for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you through the gospel.-
My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until
Christ be formed in you," 1 Cor. iv. 15; Gal. iv. 19. And
Meaning of whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up to
the picture, heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law
of truth writ on his lips; it is to show thee, that his work is
to know, and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou
seest him stand as if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou
seest the world as cast behind him, and that a crown hangs
over his head; that is to show thee, that slighting and despis-
ing things that are present, for the love that he hath to his







THE INTERPRETER S HOUSE. 5.

Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next to
have glory for his reward. Now, said the Inter- Whyhe show-
edi him tiii pic-
preter, I have showed thee this picture first, be- ture first.
cause the man whose picture this is, is the only man whom
the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized
to be thy guide, in all difficult places thou mayest meet with
in the way: wherefore take good heed to what I have showed
thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in
thy journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee
right, but their way goes down to death.
Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very
large parlour that was full of dust because never swept; the
which after he had reviewed it a little while, the Interpreter
called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep,
the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that Christian had
almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to a
damsel that stood by, Bring hither water, and sprinkle the
room;" the which when she had done, it was swept and
cleansed with pleasure.
CHR. Then said Christian, What means this ?
INTER. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart
of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the
gospel. The dust is his original sin, and inward corruption,
that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at
first is the law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle
it, is the gospel. Now whereas thou sawest, that as soon as
the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about, that the
room could not by him be cleansed, but that thou wast almost
choked therewith; this is to show thee, that the law, instead
of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive,
Rom. vii. 9, put strength into, 1 Cor. xv. 56, and increase it








26 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE.

in the soul, Rom. v. 20, even as it doth discover and forbid it,
for it doth not give power to subdue. Again, as thou sawest
the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was
cleansed with pleasure; this is to show thee, that when the
gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the
heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust
by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and
subdued, and the soul made clean, through the faith of it,
and consequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit, John
xv. 3; Eph. v. 26; Acts xv. 9; Rom. xvi. 25, 26; John
xv. 13.
I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him
by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two
little children, each one in his chair. The name
He showed
him Passion of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the
and Patience.,
other Patience. Passion seemed to be much dis-
contented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked,
"What is the reason of the discontent of Passion ?" The In-
terpreter answered, "The governor of them would have him
Passion will stay for his best things till the beginning of next
"have it no. year; but he will have all now; but Patience is
Patience is
for waiting. willing to wait."
Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a
Passion hath bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet:
his desire, and the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and
quickly lavish-
es all away. withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld
but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing
left him but rags.
CHR. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this
matter more fully to me.
INTER. So he said, These two lads are figures; Passion of








THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 27

the men of this world, and Patience of the men of that which
is to come: for as here thou seest, Passion will have all now,
this year, that is to say, in this world; so are the men of this
world; they must have all their good things now; they can-
not stay till the next year, that is, until the next world, for
their portion of good. That proverb, A bird in
The worldly
the hand is worth two in the bush," is of more man for a bird
in the hand.
authority with them than are all the Divine testi- the hand.
monies of the good of the world to come. But as thou sawest
that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left
him nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at the
end of this world.
CHR. Then said Christian, Now I see that Pa-
Patience had
tience has the best wisdom, and that upon many the best wis-
dom.
accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things.
2. And also because he will have the glory of his, when the
other has nothing but rags.
INTER. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the
next world will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone.
Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh Things that
Things that
at Patience, because he had his good things first, are first must
give place; but
as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, because things that are
he had his best things last; for first must give iOt nlel, i lng.
place to last, because last must have his time to come; but
last gives place to nothing ; for there is not another to succeed;
he therefore that hath his portion first, must needs have a
time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last
Divesha .:b
must have it lastingly; therefore it is said of good things
Dives, "In thy life-time thou receivedst thy good
things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is com-
forted, and thou art tormented," Luke xvi. 25.








28 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE.

CHi. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are
now, but to wait for things to come.
INTER. You say truth: for the things that are
The first
things are but seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen
temporal.
are eternal, 2 Cor. iv. 18. But though this be so,
yet since things present and our fleshly appetite are such near
neighbours one to another; and again, because things to come
and carnal sense are such strangers one to another; therefore
it is, that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and
that distance is so continued between the second, Rom. vii.
15-25.
Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Chris-
tian by the hand, and led him into a place where was a fire
burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always casting
much water upon it to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher
and hotter.
Then said Christian, What means this ?
The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace
that is wrought in the heart; he that casts water upon it to ex-
tinguish and put it out is the devil: but in that thou seest the
fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also
see the reason of that. So he had him about to the other side
of the wall, where he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his
hand, of the which he did also continually cast (but secretly)
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; by the means of which, notwithstanding what the
devil can do, the souls of his people prove gracious still, 2 Cor.
xii. 9. And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind







THE INTERPRETER S HOUSE. 29

the wall to maintain the fire; this is to teach thee, that it is
hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is main-
tained in the soul.
I saw also, that the Interpreter took him by the hand, and
led him into a pleasant place, where was built a stately palace,
beautiful to behold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly
delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof certain persons
walking, who were clothed all in gold.
Then said Christian, May we go in thither ?
Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the
door of the palace ; and behold, at the door stood a great com-
pany of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. There also
sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with
a book and his ink-horn before him, to take the name of him
that should enter therein; he saw also that in the door-way
stood many men in armour to keep it, being resolved to do to
the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could.
Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every
man started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a
The valiant man of very stout countenance come up to the man
man that sat there to write, saying, Set down my name,
sir; the which, when he had done, he saw the man draw his
sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the
door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly
force; but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and
hacking most fiercely. So after he had received and given
many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, Matt.
xi. 12; Acts xiv. 22, he cut his way through them all, and
pressed forward into the palace; at which there was a pleasant
voice heard from those that were within, even of those that
walked upon the top of the palace, saying,







30 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE.
"Come in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt win."

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as
they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I know
the meaning of this.
Now, said Christian, Let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the
Interpreter, until I have showed thee a little more, and after
that thou shalt go thy way. So he took him by the hand
Despair like again, and led him into a very dark room, where
an iron cage. there sat a man in an iron cage.
Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his
eyes looking down to the ground, his hands folded together,
and he sighed as if he would break his heart. Then said
Christian, What means this ? At which the Interpreter bid
"him talk with the man.
Then aid Christian to the man, What art thou ? The man
answered, I am what I was not once.
CHR. What wast thou once ?
MAN. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing pro-
fessor, Luke viii. 13, both in mine own eyes, and also in the
eyes of others : I was once, as I thought, fair for the celestial
city, and had even joy at the thoughts that I should get
thither.
CHR. Well, but what art thou now ?
MAN. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as
in this iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh now I cannot!
CHR. But how camest thou into this condition ?
MAN. I left off to watch and be sober; I laid the reins
upon the neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the
word, and the goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit, and
he is gone; I tempted the devil, and he is come to me; I have







THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 31

provoked God to anger, and he has left me; I have so hard-
ened my heart, that I cannot repent.
Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But are there no
hopes for such a man as this ? Ask him, said the Interpreter.
CHR. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must
be kept in the iron cage of despair ?
1AN. No, none at all.
CHR. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.
IAN. I have crucified him to myself afresh, Heb. vi. 6. I
have despised his person, Luke xix. 14. I have despised his
righteousness; I have counted his blood an unholy thing; I
have done despite to the Spirit of grace, Heb. x. 28, 29; there-
fore I shut myself out of all the promises, and there now re-
mains to me nothing but threatening, dreadful threatening,
fearful threatening of certain judgment and fiery indignation,
which shall devour me as an adversary.
CHR. For what did you bring yourself into this condition ?
MAN. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world;
in the enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much de-
light: but now every one of those things also bite me, and
gnaw me, like a burning worm.
CaR. But canst thou not now repent and turn ?
3MN. God hath denied me repentance. His word gives me
no encouragement to believe; yea, himself hath shut me up in
this iron cage: nor can all the men in the world let me out.
Oh, eternity! eternity how shall I grapple with the misery
that I must meet with in eternity!
INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this
man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting
caution to thee.
CHR. Well, said Christian, this is fearful! God help me to







32 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE.

watch and be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this
man's misery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now ?
INTER. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and
then thou shalt go on thy way.
So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into
a chamber, where there was one rising out of bed; and as he
put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Chris-
tian, Why doth this man thus tremble ? The Interpreter then
bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he
began, and said, This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed,
and behold the heavens grew exceeding black: also it thun-
dered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into
an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds
rack,* at an unusual rate; upon which I heard a great sound
of a trumpet, and saw also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended
with the thousands of heaven; they were all in flaming fire;
also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a
great voice, saying, "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment."
And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead
that were therein came forth: some of them were exceeding
glad, and looked upward; and some sought to hide themselves
under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat upon the
cloud, open the book and bid the world draw near. Yet there
was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out and came
before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as
betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar, 1 Cor. xv.; 1
Thess. iv. 16; Jude 15; John v. 28, 29; 2 Thess. i. 8-10;
Rev. xx. 11-14; Isa. xxvi. 21; Mlic. vii. 16, 17; Psa. v. 4;
1. 1-3 ; Mal. iii. 2, 3; Dan. vii. 9, 10. I heard it also pro-
claimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the cloud,
"* Driven violently along by the wind.







THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 33

"Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast
them into the burning lake," Matt. iii. 12; xiii. 30; xxiv. 30;
Mal. iv. 1. And with that the bottomless pit opened, just
whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there came,
in an abundant manner, smoke, and coals of fire, with hideous
noises. It was also said to the same persons, Gather my
wheat into the garner," Luke iii. 17. And with that I saw
many catched up and carried away in the clouds; but I was
left behind, 1 Thess. iv. 16, 17. I also sought to hide myself,
but I could not; for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept
his eye upon me: my sins also came into my mind; and my
conscience did accuse me on every side, Rom. ii. 14, 15. Upon
this I awakened from my sleep.
CHR. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight ?
MAN. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come,
and that I was not ready for it: but this affrighted me most,
that the angels gathered up several, and left me behind: also
the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood. My
conscience too afflicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge had
always his eye upon me, showing indignation in his coun-
tenance.
Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered
all these things ?
CHn. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.
INTER. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they
may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the
way thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his loins,
and to address himself to his journey. Then said the Inter-
preter, The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to
guide thee in the way that leads to the city. So Christian
went on his way, saying,
D








34 CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS BURDEN AT THE CROSS.

"Here have I seen things rare and profitable,
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable
In what I have began to take in hand:
Then let me think on them, and understand
Wherefore they show'd me were, and let me be
Thankful, 0 good Interpreter, to thee."

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway which Christian
was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall
was called Salvation, Isa. xxvi. 1. Up this way therefore did
burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, be-
cause of the load on his back.
He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending;
and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the
bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as
Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off
his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble,
and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the sepul-
chre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.
Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a
merry heart, He hath given me rest by his sor-
renlea uGof row, and life by his death." Then he stood still a
our guilt and while to look and wonder; for it was very sur-
burden, we are
as those that prising to him that the sight of the cross should
leap for joy.
thus ease him of his burden. He looked there-
fore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his
head sent the waters down his cheeks, Zech. xii. 10. Now as
he stood looking and weeping, behold, three Shining Ones came
to him, and saluted him with Peace be to thee." So the
first said to him, Thy sins be forgiven thee," Mark ii. 5; the
second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change
of raiment, Zech. iii. 4; the third also set a mark on his fore-
head, Eph. i. 13; and gave him a roll with a seal upon it,





















































V A
..T. H L













T-F






THE
.++0+

-+ j..:: ,



TE -'].+ F+I,,. .i H ? -:








SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION. 35

which he bid him look on as he ran, and that he should give it
in at the celestial gate: so they went their way. Then Chris-
tian gave three leaps for joy,and went on singing,

Thus far did I come laden with my sin;
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, A hristian
Till I came hither : what a place is this can sing,though
Must here be the beginning of my bliss ? alone, when
Must here the burden fall from off my back ? God doth give
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack ? h oy n his
Blest cross! blest sepulchre blest rather be
The Man that there was put to shame for me !"

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even until
he came at the bottom, where he saw, a little out
Simple, Sloth,
of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon and Presump-
tion.
their heels. The name of the one was Simple, of
another Sloth, and of the third Presumption.
Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to them,
if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, You are like
them that sleep on the top of a mast, Prov. xxiii. 34, for the
dead sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom: awake,
therefore, and come away; be willing also, and I will help
you off with your irons. He also told them, If he that goeth
about like a roaring lion, 1 Pet. v. 8, comes by, you will cer-
tainly become a prey to his teeth. With that they looked upon
him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple said, There is no
I see no danger; Sloth said, Yet a little more persuasion will
do, if God open-
sleep ; and Presumption said, Every tub must eth not the
stand upon its own bottom. And so they lay down eyes.
to sleep again, and Christian went on his way.
Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger
should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely
offered to help them, both by awakening of them, counselling of
D2








36 FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY.

them, and proffering to help them off with their irons. And as
he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling
over the wall on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made
up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and the
name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up
unto him, who thus entered with them into discourse.
Christian CHR. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither
talkswiththem, do you go ?
FORM. and HYP. We were born in the land of Vain-glory,
and are going for praise to mount Zion.
CHR. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at
the beginning of the way ? Know ye not that it is written,
that "he that cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up
some other way, the same is a thief and a robber ? John x. 1.
FORM. and HYP. They said, that to go to the gate for
entrance was by all their countrymen counted too far about;
and that therefore their usual way was to make a short cut of
it, and to climb over the wall as they had done.
CHR. But will it not be counted a trespass against the
Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate his re-
vealed will?
FORM. and HYP. They told him, that as for that, he needed
not to trouble his head thereabout: for what they did they
had custom for, and could produce, if need were, testimony
that would witness it, for more than a thousand years.
CHX. But, said Christian, will your practice stand a trial
at law ?
FoRM. and HYP. They told him, that custom, it being of
They th so long standing as above a thousand years, would
come into the doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal by an
way, but not by
the door, think impartial judge : and besides, said they, if we get







FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY. 37

into the way, what matter is it which way we get that they ca
say something
in ? If we are in, we are in: thou art but in the in vindication
"of their own
way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate; practice.
and we also are in the way, that came tumbling over the wall:
wherein now is thy condition better than ours ?
CHR. I walk by the rule of my Master: you walk by the
rude working of your fancies. You are counted thieves already
by the Lord of the way; therefore I doubt you will not be
found true men at the end of the way. You come in by your-
selves without his direction, and shall go out by yourselves
without his mercy.
To this they made him but little answer; only they bid
him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on every
man in his way, without much conference one with another;
save that these two men told Christian, that as to laws and or-
dinances, they doubted not but that they should as conscien-
tiously do them as he. Therefore, said they, we see not where-
in thou different from us, but by the coat that is on thy back,
which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbours,
to hide the shame of thy nakedness.
CHR. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since
you came not in by the door, Gal. ii. 16. And as for this coat
that is on my back, it was given me by the Lord of the place
whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness
with. And I take it as a token of his kindness to me; for I
had nothing but rags before. And besides, thus I Christian has
comfort myself as I go. Surely, think I, when I got his Lord's
coat onhisback,
come to the gate of the city, the Lord thereof will and is comfort-
ed therewith.
know me for good, since I have his coat on my He is wom-
IHe is com-
back; a coat that he gave me freely in the day forted alsowith
his mark and
that he stript me of my rags. I have, moreover, his roil.








38 CHRISTIAN REACHES THE HILL DIFFICULTY.

a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no
notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed
there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will
tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to
comfort me by reading as I go in the way; I was also bid to
give it in at the celestial gate, in token of my certain going
in after it; all which things I doubt you want, and want them
because you came not in at the gate.
To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked
upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw that they went on
all, save that Christian kept before, who had no
Christian has
talk with him- more talk but with himself, and that sometimes
self.
sighingly, and sometimes comfortably: also he
would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining
Ones gave him, by which he was refreshed.
I beheld then, that they all went on till they came to the
foot of the hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which
He comes to
the hill Diff- was a spring. There were also in the same place
culty. two other ways, besides that which came straight

from the gate: one turned to the left hand, and the other to
the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay
right up the hill, and the name of the going up the side of the
hill is called Difficulty. Christian now went to the spring,
Isa. xlix. 10, and drank thereof to refresh himself, and then
began to go up the hill, saying,
The hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend;
For I perceive the way to life lies here :
Come, pluck up, heart, let' s neither faint nor fear.
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.
The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when







HE CLIMBS THE HILL.-THE ARBOUR. 39

they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that there were
two other ways to go; and supposing also that these two ways
might meet again with that up which Christian went, on the
other side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in
those ways. Now the name of one of those ways was Danger,
and the name of the other Destruction. So the one
The danger
took the way which is called Danger, which led of turning out
him into a great wood; and the other took directly of the wy.
up the way to Destruction, which led him into a wide field,
full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose
no more.
I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill,
where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from go-
ing to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of
the steepness of the place. Now about the mid-way
Award ofgrace.
to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour, made
by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers.
Thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to
rest him: then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read
therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh to take a re-
view of the coat or garment that was given him as he stood by
the cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a
slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in
that place until it was almost night; and in his He that sleeps
sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now as he was is a loser.
sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, saying,
"G o to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be
wise," Prov. vi. 6. And with that Christian suddenly started
up, and sped him on his way, and went apace till he came to
the top of the hill.
Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came








40 HE MISSES HIS ROLL.

Christian two men running to meet him amain; the name of
meets with the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust:
Mistrust and
Timorous. to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the matter ?
you run the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were
going to the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult place:
but, said he, the farther we go, the more danger we meet with;
wherefore we turned, and are going back again.
Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in
the way, whether sleeping or waking we know not; and we
could not think, if we came within reach, but they would pre-
sently pull us in pieces.
CHI. Then said Christian, You make me afraid; but whither
shall I fly to be safe ? If I go back to my own country, that
is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish
there; if I can get to the celestial city, I am sure to be in safety
Christian there: I must venture. To go back is nothing but
shakes off fear. death: to go forward is fear of death, and life
everlasting beyond it: I will yet go forward. So Mistrust
and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his
way. But thinking again of what he heard from the men, he
felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read
Christian
misses his roll therein, and be comforted; but he felt, and found
wherein he
used to take it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and
comfort. knew not what to do; for he wanted that which

used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass
into the celestial city. Here, therefore, he began
He is per-
plexed for his to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do.
roll. At last he bethought himself that he had slept in

the arbour that is on the side of the hill; and, falling down
upon his knees, he asked God forgiveness for that his foolish
act, and then went back to look for his roll. But all the way







HE GOES TO THE ARBOUR AND FINDS HIS ROLL. 41

he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Chris-
tian's heart ? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and
oftentimes he chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in
that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment from
his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully look-
ing on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily
he might find his roll that had been his comfort so many times
in his journey. He went thus till he came again within sight
of the arbour where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed
his sorrow the more, by bringing again, even
Christian be-
afresh, his evil of sleeping unto his mind, Rev. ii. wails his fool-
ish sleeping.
4; 1 Thess. v. 6-8. Thus, therefore, he now
went on bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, Oh wretched man
that I am, that I should sleep in the day-time! that I should
sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I should so indulge the
flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh, which the Lord
of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pil-
grims How many steps have I taken in vain! Thus it hap-
pened to Israel; for their sin they were sent back again by the
way of the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with
sorrow, which I might have trod with delight, had it not been
for this sinful sleep. How far might I have been on my way
by this time! I am made to tread those steps thrice over,
which I needed not to have trod but once: yea, now also I am
like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh that I
had not slept!
Now by this time he was come to the arbour again, where
for a while he sat down and wept; but at last (as Christian
Providence would have it) looking sorrowfully findeth his roll
where he lostit.
down under the settle, there he espied his roll, the
which he, with trembling and haste, catched up, and put it








42 THE PALACE CALLED BEAUTIFUL.

into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was
when he had gotten his roll again ? For this roll was the as-
surance of his life, and acceptance at the desired haven. There-
fore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for direct-
ing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears
betook himself again to his journey. But oh how nimbly now
did he go up the rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the
sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again re-
call the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus
he again began to condole with himself: Oh thou sinful sleep !
how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my journey! I
must walk without the sun, darkness must cover the path of
my feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, be-
cause of my sinful sleep! Now also he remembered the story
that Mistrust and Timorous told him, of how they were frighted
with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian to himself
again, These beasts range in the night for their prey, and if
they should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift
them? how should I escape being by them torn in pieces?
Thus he went on his way. But while he was thus bewailing
his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there
was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was
Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway-side, Rev. iii. 2;
1 Thess. v. 7, 8.
So I saw in my dream, that he made haste, and went for-
ward, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now before
he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which
was about a furlong off the Porter's lodge: and looking very
narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in the
way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and
Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained, but
















S'A:
i i i d-
tc i
A












wall&I














THE PILGRIM AND THE LIONS.








THE LIONS.-CONVERSATION WITH THE PORTER. 43

he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also
himself to go back after them; for he thought nothing but
death was before him. But the Porter at the lodge, whose
name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt, as if
he would go back, cried unto him, saying, Is thy strength so
small ? Mark iv. 40. Fear not the lions, for they are chained,
and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for dis-
covery of those that have none : keep in the midst of the path,
and no hurt shall come unto thee.
Then I saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions;
but taking good heed to the directions of the Porter, he heard
them roar, but they did him no harm. Then he clapped his
hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate
where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir,
what house is this? and may I lodge here to-night? The
Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill,
and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. The
Porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was going.
CHR. I am come from the city of Destruction, and am go-
ing to mount Zion; but because the sun is now set, I desire,
if I may, to lodge here to-night.
PORT. What is your name ?
CHR. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first
was Graceless: I came of the race of Japheth, whom God will
persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem, Gen. ix. 27.
SPORT. But how doth it happen that you come so late ? The
sun is set.
CHR. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that
I am, I slept in the arbour that stands on the hill side Nay,
I had, notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that
in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the








44 CONVERSATION WITH DISCRETION.

brow of the hill; and then feeling for it, and finding it not, I
was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to the place where
I slept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am come.
PORT. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place,
who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the
family, according to the rules of the house. So Watchful the
Porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door
of the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion,
and asked why she was called.
The Porter answered, This man is on a journey from the
city of Destruction to mount Zion; but being weary and be-
nighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-night: so I
told him I would call for thee, who, after discourse had with
him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to the
law of the house.
Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was
going; and he told her. She asked him also how he got into
the way; and he told her. Then she asked him what he had
seen and met with in the way; and he told her. And at last
she asked his name. So he said, It is Christian; and I have so
much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what
I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for the
relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water
stood in her eyes; and after a little pause she said, I will call
forth two or three more of the family. So she ran to the door,
and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little
more discourse with him, had him into the family; and many of
them meeting him at the threshold of the house, said, Come in,
thou blessed of the Lord: this house was built by the Lord of the
hill, on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed
his head, and followed them into the house. So when he was








DISCOURSE WITH PIETY. 45

come in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and
consented together that, until supper was ready, some of them
should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the
best improvement of time; and they appointed Piety, Pru-
dence, and Charity to discourse with him; and thus they began.
PIETY. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving
to you to receive you into our house this night, let
Piety dis-
us, if perhaps we may better ourselves thereby, courses with
talk with you of all things that have happened to him.
you in your pilgrimage.
CHR. With a very good will; and I am glad that you are
so well disposed.
PIETY. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a
pilgrim's life ?
CHR. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful
sound that was in mine ears; to wit, that unavoid- How Chris-
able destruction did attend me, if I abode in that tiawas driven
out of his own
place where I was. country.
PIETY. But how did it happen that you came out of your
country this way ?
CHR. It was as God would have it; for when I was under
the fears of destruction, I did not know whither to How he got
into the way to
go; but by chance there came a man, even to me, zion.
as I was trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist,
and he directed me to the Wicket-gate, which else I should
never have found, and so set me into the way that hath led me
directly to this house.
PIETY. But did you not come by the house of the Inter-
preter ?
CHR. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance
of which will stick by me as long as I live, espe- A rehearsal








46 DISCOURSE WITH PIETY.

of what he saw cially three things; to wit, how Christ, in despite
in the way. of Satan, maintains his work of grace in the heart;
how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's
mercy; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep
the day of judgment was come.
PIETY. Why, did you hear him tell his dream ?
CHR. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought; it made
my heart ache as he was telling of it; but yet I am glad I
heard it.
PIETY. Was this all you saw at the house of the Interpreter ?
CHR. No; he took me, and had me where he showed me a
stately palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were
in it: and how there came a venturous man, and cut his way
through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him out;
and how he was bid to come in, and win eternal glory. Me-
thought those things did ravish my heart. I would have
stayed at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I
knew I had farther to go.
PIETY. And what saw you else in the way ?
CHR. Saw P Why I went but a little farther, and I saw
one, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree;
and the very sight of him made my burden fall off my back;
for I groaned under a very heavy burden, but then it fell down
from off me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw
such a thing before: yea, and while I stood looking up, (for
then I could not forbear looking,) three Shining Ones came to
me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me;
another stripped me of my rags, and gave me this broidered
coat which you see; and the third set the mark which you see
in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll (and with that he
plucked it out of his bosom).







DISCOURSE WITH PRUDENCE. 47

PIETY. But you saw more than this, did you not ?
CHR. The things that I have told you were the best; yet
some other matters I saw, as namely, I saw three men, Simple,
Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little out of the way as
I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I could
awake them? I also saw Formalist and Hypocrisy come
tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion; but
they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them, but they
would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to get
up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions' mouths; and
truly, if it had not been for the good man the Porter, that
stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might
have gone back again; but now I thank God I am here, and I
S thank you for receiving of me.
Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions,
and desired his answer to them.
PR. Do you not think sometimes of the country Prudence
discourses with
from whence you came ? him.
CHR. Yes; but with much shame and detestation. Truly,
if I had been mindful of that country from whence
Christian's
I came out, I might have had opportunity to have thoughts of his
native country.
returned; but now I desire a better country, thatnative country.
is, a heavenly one, Heb. xi. 15, 16.
PR. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the
things that then you were conversant withal ?
CHR. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my in-
ward and carnal cogitations, with which all my Christian dis-
countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. tasted withear-
nal cogitations.
But now all those things are my grief; and might Christian's
I but choose mine own things, I would choose choice.
never to think of those things more; but when I would be








48 DISCOURSE WITH PRUDENCE.

doing that which is best, that which is worst is with me, Rom.
vii. 15-21.
PR. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were
vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity ?
Christian's CHR. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they
golden hours. are to me golden hours in which such things hap-
pen to me.
PR. Can you remember by what means you find your an-
noyances at times as if they were vanquished ?
CHR. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will
How Chris- do it; and when I look upon my broidered coat,
tian gets power that will do it; also when I look into the roll that
against his cor-
ruptions. I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when
my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will
do it.
PR. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to
mount Zion ?
CHR. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang
dead on the cross; and there I hope to be rid of all
Why Chris-
tian would be those things that to this day are in me an annoy-
at mount Zion.
ance to me; there they say there is no death, Isa.
xxv. 8; Rev. xxi. 4, and there I shall dwell with such com-
pany as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love Him be-
cause I was by Him eased of my burden; and I am weary of
my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no
more, and with the company that shall continually cry, Holy,
holy, holy.
Charity dis- Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a
courses with
him. family ? are you a married man ?
CHR. I have a wife and four small children.
CHAR. And why did you not bring them along with you ?








DISCOURSE WITH CHARITY. 49

CmR. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how
Christian's
willingly would I have done it! but they were all love to his wife
and children.
of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.
CHAR. But you should have talked to them, and have en-
deavoured to have shown them the danger of staying behind.
CHR. So I did; and told them also what God had shown to
me of the destruction of our city ; but I seemed to them as one
that mocked, and they believed me not, Gen. xix. 14.
CHAR. And did you pray to God that he would bless your
counsel to them ?
CHR. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must
think that my wife and poor children were very dear unto me.
CHAR. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and fear
of destruction ? for I suppose that destruction was visible
enough to you.
CHR. Yes, over, and over, and over. They Chtin's
might also see my fears in my countenance, in my fears of perish-
ing might be
tears, and also in my trembling under the appre- read in his very
countenance.
hension of the judgment that did hang over our
heads; but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come
with me.
CHAR. But what could they say for themselves why they
came not ?
CHR. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and
my children were given to the foolish delights of The ca
The cause
youth; so, what by one thing, and what by an- why his wife
and children
other, they left me to wander in this manner did not go with
him.
alone. him.
CHAR. But did you not with your vain life damp all that
you, by words, used by way of persuasion to bring them away
with you?
E








50 DISCOURSE AT SUPPER.

CIIR. Indeed I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious
to myself of many failings therein. I know also that a man,
by his conversation, may soon overthrow what by argument or
persuasion he doth labour to fasten upon others for their good.
Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion,
by any unseemly action, to make them averse to going on pil-
grimage. Yea, for this very thing, they would tell me I was
too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes)
in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if
what they saw in nie did hinder them, it was my great tender-
ness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong to my
neighbour.
CHAR. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, 1 John iii. 12, be-
cause his own works were evil, and his brother's righteous;
Christian and if thy wife and children have been offended
lear of their with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to
blood, if they
perish. be implacable to good; thou hast delivered thy
soul from their blood, Ezek. iii. 19.
Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking to-
gether until supper was ready. So when they had made ready,
what Chris- they sat down to meat. Now the table was fur-
ian h for hi nished with fat things, and wine that was well re-
The talk at fined; and all their talk at the table was about the
supper time. Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what he had
done, and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had builded
that house; and by what they said, I perceived that he had
been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that
had the power of death, Heb. ii. 14, 15, but not without great
danger to himself, which made me love him the more.
For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, he did it
with the loss of much blood. But that which put the glory of








DISCOURSE AT SUPPER. 51

grace into all he did, was, that he did it out of pure love to
this country. And besides, there were some of them of the
household that said they had seen and spoke with him since
he did die on the cross; and they have attested, that they had
it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims,
that the like is not to be found from the east to the west.
They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed; and
that was, he had stripped himself of his glory that he might
do this for the poor; and that they had heard him say and
affirm, that he would not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone.
They said, moreover, that he had made many pil- Christ makes
grims princes, though by nature they were beg- princes of beg-
gars.
gars born, and their original had been the dung-
hill, 1 Sam. ii. 8; Psa. cxiii. 7.
Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and after
they had committed themselves to their Lord for protection,
they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they laid in a
large upper chamber, whose window opened to- Christian's
wards the sun-rising. The name of the chamber bed-chamber.
was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke
and sang,
"Where am I now ? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are,
Thus to provide that I should be forgiven,
And dwell already the next door to heaven!

So in the morning they all got up; and after some more dis-
course, they told him that he should not depart till they had
shown him the rarities of that place. And first they had him
into the study, where they showed him records of Christian had
the greatest antiquity; in which, as I remember aiito the Nitudy
my dream, they showed him the pedigree of the saw there,








52 THE WONDERS SHOWN TO CHRISTIAN.

Lord of the hill, that he was the Son of the Ancient of days,
and came by an eternal generation. Here also was more fully
recorded the acts that he had done and the names of many
hundreds that he had taken into his service; and how he had
placed them in such habitations, that could neither by length
of days, nor decays of nature, be dissolved.
Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some
of his servants had done; as how they had subdued kingdoms,
wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths
of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the
sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in
fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens, Heb. xi.
33, 34.
Then they read again in another part of the records of the
house, where it was shown how willing their Lord was to re-
ceive into his favour any, even any, though they in time past
had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here
also were several other histories of many other famous things,
of all which Christian had a view; as of things both ancient
and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things,
that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and
amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.
The next day they took him, and had him into the armoury,
where they showed him all manner of furniture
Christian
had into the which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as
armoury. sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and

shoes that would not wear out. And there was here enough
of this to harness out as many men for the service of their
Lord, as there be stars in the heaven for multitude.
They also showed him some of the engines with which
Christian is some of his servants had done wonderful things.








THE WONDERS SHOWN TO CHRISTIAN. 53

They showed him Moses's rod; the hammer and made to see an-
nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, cientthings.
trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the
armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad,
wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed
him also the jaw-bone with which Samson did such mighty
feats. They showed him moreover the sling and stone with
which David slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also with
which their Lord will kill the man of sin, in the day that he
shall rise up to the prey. They showed him besides many ex-
cellent things, with which Christian was much delighted.
This done, they went to their rest again.
Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to
go forwards, but they desired him to stay till the next day
also; and then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, show
you the Delectable Mountains; which, they said, would yet
further add to his comfort, because they were nearer the de-
sired haven than the place where at present he was; so he
consented and stayed. When the morning was up, Christian
they had him to the top of the house, and bid him showed the
Delectable
look south. So he did, and behold, at a great dis- Mountains.
tance, he saw a most pleasant, mountainous country, beautified
with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with
springs and fountains, very delectable to behold, Isa. xxxiii.
16, 17. Then he asked the name of the country. They said
it was Immanuel's land; and it is as common, said they, as
this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest
there, from thence, said they, thou mayest see to the gate of
the celestial city, as the shepherds that live there will make
appear.
Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they








54 CHRISTIAN IS ARMED, AND PURSUES HIS JOURNEY.

Christian were willing he should. But first, said they, let
sets forward. us go again into the armoury. So they did, and
when he came there, they harnessed him from head to foot
with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with as-
saults in the way. He being therefore thus ac-
Christian
sent away coutred, walked out with his friends to the gate;
armed.
and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pil-
grim pass by. Then the Porter answered, Yes.
CHR. Pray did you know him ? said he.
PORT. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.
CHR. 0 said Christian, I know him; he is my townsman,
my near neighbour, he comes from the place where I was born.
How far do you think he may be before ?
PORT. He is got by this time below the hill.'
How Chris- CHR. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the
tirn and the Lord be with thee, and add to all thy blessings
Porter greet at
parting. much increase for the kindness thou hast showed
to me.
Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety,
Charity, and Prudence would accompany him down to the foot
of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating their former
discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then said
Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see,
it is dangerous going down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is; for
The valley of it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the
Humiliation. valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to
catch no slip by the way; therefore, said they, are we come
out to accompany thee down the hill. So he began to go
down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip or two.
Then I saw in my dream, that these good companions,
when Christian was gone down to the bottom of the hill, gave


























Carl


IT







mrp : 't

ni v-





























THE P11J-;R1M E THE Al MO'C-L








CHRISTIAN MEETS APOLLYON. 55

him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins;
and then he went his way.
But now, in this valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was
hard put to it; for he had gone but a little way before he
espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him: his
name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and
to cast in his mind whether to go back, or to stand his ground.
But he considered again that he had no armour for hritia has
Christian has
his back, and therefore thought that to turn the no armour for
his back.
back to him might give him greater advantage
with ease to pierce him with his darts; therefore he resolved
to venture, and stand his ground; for, thought he, had I no
more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the
best way to stand.
So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster
was hideous to behold; he was clothed with scales like a fish,
and they are his pride; he had wings like a dragon, and feet
like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke; and his
mouth was as the mouth of a lion. When he came up to
Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance, and
thus began to question with him.
APOLLYON. Whence come you, and whither are Discourse be-
twixt Christian
you bound ? and Apollyon.
CHR. I am come from the city of Destruction, which is the
place of all evil, and I am going to the city of Zion.
APOL. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects;
for all that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it.
How is it, then, that thou hast run away from thy king?
Were it not that I hope that thou mayest do me more service,
I would strike thee now at one blow to the ground.
CHR. I was, indeed, born in your dominions, but your








56 APOLLYON'S DECEITFUL DISCOURSE.

service was hard, and your wages such as a man could not live
on; for the wages of sin is death, Rom. vi. 23; therefore when
I was come to years, I did, as other considerate persons do, look
out, if perhaps I might mend myself.
APOL. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his
subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee; but since thou com-
Apollyon's plainest of thy service and wages, be content to go
flattery. back, and what our country will afford, I do here
promise to give thee.
CHR. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of
princes; and how can I with fairness go back with thee ?
APOL. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb,
Apollyon un "changed a bad for a worse;" but it is ordinary
dervalues for those that have professed themselves his serv-
Christ'sservice.
ants, after a while to give him the slip, and return
again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well.
CHR. I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance
to him; how then can I go back from this, and not be hanged
as a traitor ?
APOL. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am will-
ing to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go
back.
CHR. What I promised thee was in my nonage: and be-
sides, I count that the Prince, under whose banner now I
stand, is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon also what I
did as to my compliance with thee. And besides, O thou de-
stroying Apollyon, to speak truth, I like his service, his wages,
his servants, his government, his company, and country better
than thine; therefore leave off to persuade me further; I am
his servant, and I will follow him.
APOL. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what







APOLLYON'S DECEITFUL DISCOURSE. 57

thou art like to meet with in the way that thou Apollyon
pleads the
goest. Thou knowest that for the most part his grievous ends
servants come to an ill end, because they are trans- o dChristns,
gressors against me and my ways. How many of Christian from
them have been put to shameful deaths And be- his way.
sides, thou contest his service better than mine; whereas he
never came yet from the place where he is, to deliver any that
served him out of their hands ; but as for me, how many times,
as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by
power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him
and his, though taken by them! And so I will deliver thee.
CHR. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on pur-
pose to try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the
end; and as for the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is
most glorious in their account. For, for present deliverance,
they do not much expect it; for they stay for their glory; and
then they shall have it, when their Prince comes in his, and
the glory of the angels.
APOL. Thou hast been already unfaithful in thy service to
him; and how dost thou think to receive wages of him ?
CHR. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to him ?
APOL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast
almost choked in the Gulf of Despond. Thou
Apollyon
didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, pleads Chris-
tian's infirmi-
whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince ties against
had taken it off. Thou didst sinfully sleep, and him.
lose thy choice things. Thou wast also almost persuaded to
go back at the sight of the lions. And when thou talkest of
thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, thou art
inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or does.
CHR. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left









58 CONFLICT BETWEEN CHRISTIAN AND APOLLYON.

out; but the Prince whom I serve and honour is merciful and
ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmities possessed me
in thy country; for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned
under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of
my Prince.
APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, say-
ing, I am an enemy to this Prince; I hate his per-
Apollyon, in
rage, falls upon son, his laws, and people; I am come out on pur-
Christian.
pose to withstand thee.
CHR. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the
king's highway, the way of holiness; therefore take heed to
yourself.
APOL. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole
breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter.
Prepare thyself to die; for I swear by my infernal den, that
thou shalt go no farther: here will I spill thy soul.-And with
that he threw a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian had a
shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented
the danger of that.
Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir
him; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as
thick as hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that Christian
could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his
Christian
wounded in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian
understanding,
faith, and on- give a little back: Apollyon, therefore, followed
versation. his work amain, and Christian again took courage,
and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted
for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite
spent. For you must know, that Christian, by reason of his
wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.
Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather





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