From this World
To that which is to come.
AS I walked through the wilderness of this world, I laid me down to sleep, and as I slept, I dreamed; and behold, I saw a man cloathed with rags, standing with his face from his house, a book in his hand, and a great burthen upon his back. I looked and saw him open the book and read therein; and as he read he wept and trembled: And not being able longer to contain, he broke out, saying, What shall I do to be saved?
In this plight he went home, and refrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children might not perceive his distress. But his trouble so increased that he soon burst out, “O my dear wife, and you the children of my bowels, I am undone by reason of this burthen which lieth so hard upon me. Moreover, I am certainly informed, that this our city will shortly be destroyed with fire from heaven; in which overthrow we shall all miserably perish, except some way of escape be found.” At this they were sore amazed; not that they believed what he said, but because they thought him distempered in his head. However, hoping sleep might settle him again, they in all haste got him to bed.
But the night was as grievous to him as the day. Instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. And in the morning, when they asked him “how he did” he told them, “worse and worse.” They then thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriage to him. Sometimes they would deride, sometimes chide, and sometimes quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire more to his chamber, to pray for them, and to bemoan his own misery. He would also walk solitary in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying. And thus for some days he spent his time.
Now I saw, upon a time when he was walking in the fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading his book; and as he read, he burst out as before, saying, What must I do to be saved?
I saw also, that he looked this way and that way as if he would run; yet he stood still, because (as I perceived) he could not tell which way to go. I looked then and saw a man, called Evangelist, coming to him, who asked, “Wherefore dost thou cry?”
He answered, “Sir I perceive by the book in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment. And I find I am not willing to do the first, nor able to do the second.”
Then said Evangelist, “why not willing to die?” The man answered, because I fear that this burden which is on my back will sink me lower than the grave. And, Sir, if I am not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment.”
“But said Evangelist, if this be thy condition, why standest thou still?” He answered, “because I know not whither to go.” Then said Evangelist, pointing over a wide field, “do you see yonder little gate? Go up directly to it and knock; and it shall be told thee what thou shalt do.”
So I saw in my dream, that the man began to run. He had not run far, before his wife and children perceiving it, began to cry after him to return: But he stopped his ears and ran on, crying, Life, life! eternal life, without once looking behind him.
The neighbours also came out, and as he ran some mocked, others threatened, and some called to him to return. And of these, two resolved to fetch him back by force; the name of the one was Obstinate, of the other ♦Pliable. He was now got a good distance from them; however, in a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, “Neighbours, wherefore are you come?” They said, “To persuade you to go back with us.” But he said, “That cannot be; you dwell in the city of Destruction, the place also where I was born. And if you die there, you will sink into a place that burns with fire and brimstone. Be content, good neighbours, and go along with me.”
What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends and all our comforts behind us?
Yes, said Christian, (that was his name) for all these are not worthy to be compared with the least part of what I seek; and if you will go with me, there is enough and to spare.
Obstinate. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them?
Christian. I seek an inheritance, incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away?
Obstinate. Tush, away with your cant. Will you go back with us or no?
Christian. No, not I. I have put my hand to the plough.
Obstinate. Come then, neighbour, let us go home without him. There is a company of these crazy coxcombs, that when they get a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason.
Pliable. Don’t revile. Who knows but what he says is true? I have almost a mind to go with him.
Obstinate. What more fools still? Come back, come back. Who knows whither a madman may lead you?
Christian. Nay, but come with me, to the glory which shall be revealed. And if you believe not me, read here in this book, the truth of which is confirmed by the blood of him that made it.
Pliable. Neighbour Obstinate, I think I will go with this good man, and cast in my lot with him.
Obstinate. Then get you gone. I will e’en go home. I will be no companion for such whimsical fellows.
Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was gone back, Christian and Pliable went on talking together.
Pliable. Come neighbour, since we are alone, tell me farther what the things are to which we are going.
Christian. I can better conceive than speak them. There is a kingdom that cannot be moved, a house eternal in the heavens, where we shall shine as the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever.
Pliable. And what company shall we have there?
Christian. There will be an innumerable company of angels, ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of saints, of holy men, out of every kindred and people, and nation. There we shall see those who were cut in pieces, burnt with fire, eaten with beasts, for the love they bore to the Lord of the place; having now overcome sin, and death, and pain, and put on immortality as a garment.
Pliable. Glad am I to hear of these things. Come on let us mend our pace.
Now I saw in my dream, that they drew nigh to a slough that was in the midst of the plain, (it was called Despond) and being heedless, they both suddenly fell in. “Ah, neighbour, said Pliable, where are we now?” Truly, said Christian, I do not know. At this Pliable was much offended, and said, “Is this the happiness you talked of all this while? If we have such ill speed at setting out, what may we not expect before our journey’s end? If I get out hence with my life, you shall have the brave country alone for me.” And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two and got out of the mire on the side next his own house. So away he went, and Christian saw him no more.
Wherefore Christian was left in the slough alone; but still he struggled toward that side which was farthest from his own house, yet could not get out, because of his burthen. But I beheld a man come to him, whose name was Help, and asked, “What he did there.”
Christian. Sir, I was directed to go by this way to yonder gate; and as I went, I fell in here.
Then said he, “Give me thy hand.” So he gave him his hand, and he drew him out, and set him on firm ground.
But Christian had not gone far, before one met him, who was crossing over the plain. The gentleman’s name was Worldly Wiseman. Having some knowledge of Christian by report, (for his leaving the city of Destruction was noised far and near) he began thus:
World. How now good fellow, whither away?
Christian. Sir, I am going to yonder little gate.
World. Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee counsel?
Christian. Yea, if it be good, I will.
World. I counsel thee then, get rid of that burthen with all speed, else thou wilt never be settled in thy mind.
Christian. That is what I seek; but get it off myself I cannot: nor is there any man in our country can take it off.
World. Who bid you go this way to be rid of it?
Christian. One that appeared to me, a great and honourable person. His name I think, is Evangelist.
World. Beshrew him for his counsel. There is not a more dangerous or troublesome way in the world than this. Hear me; I am older than thou. Thou art like to meet in the way thou now goest, weariness, painfulness, nakedness, hunger, peril, sword; death itself, and what not?
Christian. Sir, this burden is worse than all these. I care not what I meet with, so I get rid of this.
World. How camest thou by it at first?
Christian. By reading this book.
World. I thought so. So it has fared with other weak men; who, meddling with things too high for them, suddenly fall into distraction, and run desperate ventures to obtain they know not what.
Christian. I know what I would obtain. It is ease from my burthen.
World. Hadst thou but patience to hear, I could direct thee to obtain that, without running into any of these dangers.
Christian. Pray, Sir, open this secret to me.
World. Why, in yonder village there lives a gentleman, whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and of good credit and fashion: he has helped abundance of men off with such burthens as thine are.
Christian. Sir, which is my way to his house?
World. You must go by yonder high hill, and the first house you come at is his.
So Christian turned out of his way. But when he was got hard by the hill, it hung so much over the way, that he was afraid to venture on, lest it should fall upon his head. Wherefore he stood still, and knew not what to do. Likewise his burthen seemed heavier than before. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made him afraid he should be burnt: insomuch that he now quaked for fear, and was sorry he came out of his way. And with that he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight of whom he blushed for shame: so he came up to him, and with a severe countenance said.
Evangelist. What dost thou here? To which he knew not what to answer, but stood speechless before him.
Evangelist. Art thou not the man whom I found crying without the walls of the city of Destruction?
Christian. Yes, Sir, I am.
Evangelist. Did I not direct thee to the little gate? How is it that thou art so quickly turned aside?
Christian. I met a gentleman who told me, I might find one in yonder village that could take off my burthen.
Then said Evangelist, stand still a little that I may tell thee the words of the Lord. So he stood trembling. Then Evangelist said, See that ye refuse not him that speaketh: for if they escaped not who refused him that spoke on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven: for the just shall live by faith; but if he draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him.
Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead. But Evangelist caught him by the right-hand, and said, All manner of sins and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men: be not faithless but believing. At this his spirit a little revived, and he stood up trembling before Evangelist.
Then Evangelist said, Give more earnest heed unto the things that I shall tell thee of. There are three things in the counsel of the man that met thee, which thou must utterly abhor.
1. His turning thee out of the way.
2. His labouring to make the cross odious to thee.
3. His setting thy feet in the way that leadeth to death.
First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; for this is to reject the counsel of God, seeing the Lord saith, Strive to enter in at the strait gate, the gate to which I sent thee.
Secondly, Abhor his labouring to make the cross odious to thee; for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt. Besides the Lord hath said, If any man come after me, and hate not his father and mother, and wife and children, and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. The doctrine therefore which teacheth to hate or shun the cross, thou must utterly abhor.
Thou must, lastly, abhor his setting thy feet in the way that leadeth to death. For he to whom thou wast sent, legality by name, is the son of the bondwoman: and this is mount Sinai, which gendereth unto bondage, and unto death eternal. He cannot free any man of his burthen: nor is it possible he should; for by the works of the law shall no flesh living be justified.
After this Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for the confirmation of what he had said. And there came words and fire out of the mountain. The words were these, As many as are of the works of the law are under the curse: for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them.
Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and cried out with a bitter cry: nevertheless, turning to Evangelist, he said, “Sir, Is there any hope? May my sin be forgiven? May I yet go back, and enter in at that gate? Shall I not be sent away with shame?”
Then Evangelist said, “Thy sin is great; yet it may be forgiven; the man at the gate will let thee in: but take heed thou turn not aside again, lest if his wrath be kindled, yea, but a little, thou perish from the way.”
So he went on with haste; neither spoke he to any by the way. He went as one treading on forbidden ground; and could not think himself safe, till he got into the way, out of which he had turned before. He then went on with all his might till he came to the gate; over which was written, Knock, and it shall be opened unto you. He knocked therefore more than once or twice. At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Goodwill, who asked, “Who was there?”
Christian. Here is a poor burthened sinner. I come from the city of destruction, and am going to Mount Zion; and I understand I am to go thro’ this gate, if you are willing to let me in.
I am willing with all my heart, said he, and with that he opened the gate.
When Christian was stepping in, the other pulled him suddenly. Then said Christian, What means that? He replied, a little way off is a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain; from whence he continually shoots at those who come to this gate, if haply they may die before they can enter in. Then said Christian, “I rejoice and tremble.”
Goodwill. But who directed you hither?
Christian. One named Evangelist, who said, that you would tell me what I must do.
Goodwill. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it. But how is it thou art come alone?
Christian. One of my neighbours came with me a little way; but then he was discouraged, and went back; and I also soon after turned aside, to go in the way of death. So that, had not Evangelist met me again, I had never come hither. And O! what a favour is this to me, that I am suffered to enter here!
Goodwill. We make no objections against any. Whatever they have done before they came, if they knock, the gate is opened to them. Him that cometh, we in no wise cast out.
But come with me, and I will teach thee concerning the road. Dost thou see this narrow way? That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and his apostles.
Christian. But are there no ways that turn out of this?
Goodwill. Yes, many; but they are crooked and wide. The right way only is strait and narrow. Go on therein, till thou comest to the house of the interpreter, and he will shew thee excellent things.
So Christian went on till he came to the house; where he knocked, and asked for the master of the house. To whom, when he came, he spoke thus.
Sir, I am a man that am come from the city of Destruction, and am going to mount Zion. And I was informed by him at the gate, that if I called here, you would shew me excellent things.
Then said the Interpreter, “Come in, and I will shew thee that which will be profitable to thee.” So he took him by the hand, and led him into a large parlour that was full of dust. After a while he called for a man to sweep; which he had no sooner begun to do, than the dust so abundantly flew about, that Christian was almost choaked. Then the Interpreter said to a damsel, “Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room.” After which it was easily swept and cleansed.
This parlour, said the Interpreter to Christian, is the heart of a natural man. The dust is his original sin, and inward corruptions, of every kind. He that first began to sweep is the law; she that sprinkled it, is the gospel. Now whereas thou sawest, that by his sweeping, the dust was only raised, and the room not cleansed at all; this is to shew thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart from sin, doth revive and increase it in the soul. For, by the law is only the knowledge of sin; but not deliverance from it.
Again, Thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room; after which it was cleansed with pleasure: this is to shew thee, that when the gospel comes into the heart, sin is easily subdued; and the soul made clean thro’ faith, and fit for the king of glory to inhabit.
He then led me into a place, where was a fire burning against a wall, and one continually casting water upon it, yet could he not quench it, but the flame rose higher than before.
This fire, said he, is the work of grace that is wrought in a believing heart. He that casts water upon it is the devil. Yet can he not quench it, for the reason thou shalt now see. So he carried him to the other side of the wall, where was a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, out of which he continually cast into the fire, Then said Christian, What means this?
The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart, so that the devil cannot quench it. And he stands behind the wall, to shew it is hard for the tempted to see how this work is maintained in his soul.
He then took him by the hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was a stately palace: on the top of which were certain persons walking, who were cloathed all in gold. At the door below stood a great company of men, desirous to go in, but yet afraid. For in the door-way stood many armed men, to keep it, and drive all back. At last a man of a stout countenance came up, drew his sword, put a helmet on his head, and rushed into the midst of the armed men, who fell upon him with all their force. But after receiving and giving many wounds, he cut his way through them all, and went in. Then was heard a pleasant voice from within saying,
Come in, soldier of Christ, come in:
Eternal glory thou shalt win!
I verily think, said Christian, I know the meaning of this; now then let me go hence.
Stay, said the Interpreter, till I have shewed thee a little more. Then he took him by the hand again, and led him into a dark room, where sat a man in an iron cage; his eyes were fixed on the ground, his hands folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his heart.
Then said Christian, “What art thou?” He replied, I am a man of despair: I am so fast in prison that I cannot get forth.
Christian. But how camest thou there?
Man. I left off to watch and pray; I sinned against light and love; I grieved the Spirit, ♦and he is gone from me; I tempted the devil, and he is come into me; I defied God, and he hath forsaken me.
Christian. But have you no hope? The Son of the Blessed is of tender mercy.
Man. But I have crucified him to myself afresh, I have counted his blood an unholy thing, I have done despite to the spirit of grace: and there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin; but a certain fearful looking for of fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an adversary.
Christian. But can’st thou not repent?
Man. No, never; for I have quenched the Spirit. O eternity, eternity! Who can tell the length of eternity?
Christian. Well, God help me to watch and pray.—Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way?
Interpreter. I will shew thee one thing more, and thou shalt go. So he led him into a chamber where was one rising out of bed, who shook and trembled exceedingly: then said Christian,“Why dost thou tremble thus?” This night, said he, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens were exceeding black: also it thundered and lightened on every side. So I looked up and saw the skies divide: and I heard a great sound of a trumpet: and I saw one descend, sitting on a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven; they were all arrayed with flaming fire: also the heavens were in a burning flame. I then heard a voice out of the fire saying, “Arise ye dead and come to judgment;” and behold the rocks rent, the graves were opened, and the dead that were therein came forth: some of those looked up, and were exceeding glad, and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw him who sat upon the cloud open a book, and bid the world draw near; yet was there a distance, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out, and came before him. I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on him who sat upon the cloud, “Gather together the tares and chaff, and cast them into the lake that burneth with brimstone;” and the bottomless pit opened her mouth, and there came forth smoak and coals of fire. It was also proclaimed, “Gather the wheat into my garner;” and I saw many caught up in the clouds, but I was left. I then called to the mountains to fall upon me, and the rocks to cover me, but in vain: for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me. Then came all my sins to my remembrance, and fear was on every side; so I awoke.
Then said the Interpreter to Christian, “Keep these things in thy mind, that they may be as a goad in thy side wherever thou goest; and the comforter be always with thee, and guide thee in the way that leads to the city.”
Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which I was to go, was fenced on every side with a wall, called salvation. Up this way he ran, till he came at a place where stood a cross, and somewhat below, a sepulchre. Just as Christian came to the cross, his burthen loosed, fell off, and rolled down, till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in; and I saw it no more.
Then was Christian glad, and said with a merry heart, The life that I now ♦live, I live by faith in the Son of God; who loved me, and gave himself for me.
Then he stood awhile to look and wonder, even till the tears ran down his cheeks; and as he stood, three shining ones came and saluted him with, Peace be unto thee. Then the first said unto him, thy sins are forgiven thee; the second striped him of his rags, and cloathed him with change of raiment; and the third set a mark on his forehead, and gave him a roll, with a seal upon it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and give it at the gate of the city.
I beheld then that he went on rejoicing, till he came to the foot of the hill difficulty. At the bottom of this was a spring, of which he drank, and was refreshed, and then he began to go up the hill. Sometimes he ran; then walked; then climbed on his hands and knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now, about the midway to the top of the hill, was a pleasant arbour, planted by the Lord of the hill, for the relief of weary travellers. Here therefore he sat down to rest, and pulled his roll out of his bosom, to read therein, and comfort himself. He also began to survey his new raiment, till he fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which held him till it was almost night: and, in his sleep, his roll fell out of his hand. Then came one to him and said, Go to the Ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise. On this he started up, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill.
He now felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein, and be comforted: but he found it not. Then was he much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself, that he had slept in the arbour on the side of the hill; and falling down, he asked God forgiveness for his folly, and then went back to look for his roll. But all the way he went, who can tell the sorrow of his heart? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept; mean while, looking carefully on each side, if in any wise he might find it. He went thus till he came in sight of the arbour, where he had sat and slept. But that sight renewed his grief, till he broke out, “O wretched man that I am! That I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! That I should use that rest for ease to my flesh, which was intended only for the relief of the spirits of weary pilgrims! How far might I have been on my way by this! And now also the day is far spent.” By this time he was come to the arbour again; where, looking under the seat he espied his roll; with trembling and haste he caught it up. But who can tell how joyful he was? For this roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the desired haven. He laid it up in his bosom, gave God thanks, and with tears of joy betook himself again to his journey. He got up the hill just as the sun went down; when, lifting up his eyes, he beheld a stately palace before him, which stood by the high-way side.
So he made haste and went forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. But before he had gone far, he entered into a narrow passage, about a furlong from the porter’s lodge: when, looking carefully before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Then he was afraid, and thought to go back; but the porter perceiving him to make a halt, cried out, “Is thy strength so small? Fear them not. They are chained; and are placed there for the trial of thy faith, keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee.”
Then I saw that he went on, though trembling, till he came to the gate, and asked, if he might lodge there?
Porter. I will call one of the house. So he rung a bell, and there came out a damsel, named Discretion; who, after asking him several questions, said, “I will call out one or two more of the family;” so she ran to the door, and called Piety, and Charity; who, after a little more discourse with him, brought him in; and many meeting him at the entrance, said, “Come in thou blessed of the Lord; this house was built to entertain travellers to Zion.”
They sat talking together till supper was ready. And at the table also, all their talk was about the Lord of the hill, what he had done; how great a warrior he was; and how he had fought with and slain him that had the power of death; though not without great danger to himself, and the loss of much blood.
Thus they discoursed till late at night; and then Christian was laid in a large upper chamber, the name of which was Peace. In the morning they shewed him the records of the greatest antiquity: in which was the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, the son of the Ancient of days. Here also were fully shewn the acts he had done, and the worthy deeds of many of his servants, who had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, stopt the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire; escaped the edge of the sword, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens.
The next day they took him into the armory, where they shewed him all manner of furniture, provided for pilgrims; swords, shields, helmets, breast-plates, and shoes that would never wear out. And there was here enough of these to arm as many men as there are stars in heaven for multitude.
They then armed him from head to foot, lest he should meet with assaults by the way. And when he set out, Piety, Charity, and Discretion accompanied him to the foot of the hill. Then said Christian, “As it was difficult coming up this hill, so I see it is dangerous going down.” “It is so,” said Charity, “for it is a hard thing for a man to go down into the valley of humiliation, and catch no slip by the way.” When they were come to the bottom, they gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins; and then he went on his way.
He had gone but a little way in the valley, before he espied a foul fiend coming to meet him; his name was Apollyon. Then did he cast in his mind, whether to go back, or stand his ground. But he considered he had no armour for his back, and therefore resolved to stand. So he went on, and Apollyon met with him. Now the monster was hideous to behold. He was cloathed with scales; he had wings like a dragon; out of his belly came fire and smoak, and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion. He beheld Christian with a disdainful look, and began to question him thus:
Apollyon. Whence comest thou? And whether dost thou go?
Christian. I came from the city of Destruction and am going to mount Zion.
Apollyon. Thou art one of my subjects. All that country is mine. I am the prince and god of it. How is it that thou art fled from thy king.
Christian. I was your subject; but your service was hard, and I could endure it no longer.
Apollyon. Since thou complainest of my service, go back with me; and whatever our country affords, I will give thee.
Christian. But I have hired myself to another, even the King of Kings. How then can I go back?
Apollyon. It is common for those that have professed themselves his servants, after a while to return to me. Do thou so, and all shall be well.
Christian. I have sworn allegiance to him; and how can I go from this, without being a traitor.
Apollyon. Thou didst the same to me; and yet I will pass by all, if thou wilt now return.
Christian. I tell thee, once for all, I like his service, his wages, his government, his servants, his company, and country, better than thine; and him only will I serve.
Apollyon. Yet consider in cool blood, what thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. How many of his servants came to ill ends? How many have been put to shameful deaths? And yet, as good a master as he is, he cometh not to deliver them out of my hands.
Christian. His delaying to deliver them, is on purpose to try their love. And as for their ill end, as thou callest it, that is their glory. For present deliverance they ask it not; being content to wait for their reward, till their Prince shall come.
Apollyon. But what reward shalt thou have, who hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him.
Christian. Wherein?
Apollyon. Thou didst faint at setting out, in the slough of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burthen. Thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice things. Thou wast well nigh frighted back by the lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, there is pride in all thou sayest.
Christian. All this is true, and much more. But the King I serve is a merciful King; yea, I know, he is merciful to my unrighteousness, and my sins he remembreth no more.
Then Apollyon broke out into a rage, and said, “I am an enemy to thy King. I hate his person, his people, his laws. I am come out on purpose to withstand thee.”
Christian. Beware what thou dost. I am in the King’s highway, the way of holiness.
Then did Apollyon stride quite over the way, and said, “I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die. For no farther shalt thou go. Here will I spill thy soul.”
With that he threw a flaming dart at his breast: but Christian caught it with his shield, and drew his sword while Apollyon continued throwing darts as thick as hail. This made Christian give a little back; but he soon took courage again: yet the combat lasted for above half a day, he at length began to grow faint and weary.
Apollyon seeing this, came up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and withal Christian’s sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, “I am sure of thee now.” But as he was fetching his last blow, Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; when I fall, I shall arise; and with that he gave him a dreadful thrust, which made him draw back. Christian perceiving this, made at him again, saying, Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loveth us. But Apollyon, spread forth his dragon’s wings, and fled away, that Christian saw him no more.
Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the tree of life, which he applied to his wounds, and they were immediately healed. After this he addressed himself to his journey, but with his sword drawn in his hand. Now at the end of this valley was another called, The valley of the Shadow of Death. The prophet Jeremiah describes it thus, A wilderness, a land of deserts and of pits, a land of drought, a land that no man (but a Christian¹) passeth through, and where no man dwelt.
On the right-hand of this valley was a deep ditch, that is it into which the blind have led the blind, in all ages, and have both there miserably perished together. On the left, there was a dangerous quagmire, into which whoever falls, (as David did once) finds no bottom for his foot to stand on.
The path also was exceeding narrow. So that when Christian sought to shun the ditch, he was ready to drop into the mire; and when he sought to shun the mire, to fall into the ditch. Likewise the night was so dark, that often when he lift up his foot, he knew not where he should set it next.
About the midst of the valley was the mouth of hell; and it stood hard by the way side. Now, thought Christian, What shall I do? For ever and anon the smoak and flame would come out, with such abundance of sparks and hideous noises, that he found no weapon availed but prayer. So he cried aloud, with all his might, O Lord I beseech thee deliver my soul. He walked on a great while in the midst of the flames. Also he heard doleful voices, and rushing to and fro; so that sometimes he thought he should be trodden down like mire in the streets. Thus he went on for several miles, till he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him. At this he knew not what to do; but at length resolved to go on. They seemed to come nearer and nearer; but when they were just come up, he cried out, with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the strength of the Lord God. So they gave back, and came no further.
I took notice, that Christian was now so amazed, he did not know his own voice: for just as he was over-against the mouth of the pit, one of the wicked ones stepped up softly, and whispered many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind.
When he had travelled thus for some time, he heard the voice of one before him, saying, Though I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me.
Then he was glad, hoping to have company by and by; so he hasted on, and in awhile the day broke. Then said Christian, He hath turned the Shadow of Death, into the morning.
He now looked back, not out of a desire to return, but to see the dangers he had gone through. He feared them more before; but he saw them now more clearly, because of the light of the day. And about this time the sun arose, which was another mercy. For as dangerous as the first part of the valley was, the second was more dangerous still. The way from the place where he now stood, even to the end, being so full of snares, traps, and nets; and also of pits, deep holes, and shelvings down, that, had it now been dark, he must have perished. Then said he, His candle shineth on my head, and, by his light, I go through darkness.
In this light he walked to the end of the valley, and came to a small ascent; from whence looking forward, he saw Faithful a little way before him; to whom Christian cried, “Stay, stay, till I come up.” But Faithful answered, “No; I cannot stay for none; I am upon my life; the avenger of blood is behind me.”
At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting forth all his strength, he soon got up with Faithful, and outwent him. So the last was first. Then did Christian smile, because he had got the start of his brother: but not taking heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell; nor could he rise again, till Faithful came to help him.
Then I saw in my dream, they went lovingly on together, discoursing of many things.
Christian. How long after me did you stay in the city of Destruction?
Faith. Till I could stay no longer; it being in every one’s mouth, that the city would shortly be destroyed with fire from heaven.
Christian. But why then did no more of them come with you?
Faith. I do not think they firmly believed it, else they could not have staid there.
Christian. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable?
♦Faith. O yes: he is now despised of all. He is seven times worse than if he had never set out.
Christian. But why should they despise him, since they despise the way which he forsook?
Faith. They say, “O hang him: he is a turncoat; he was not true to his profession.” God has stirred up his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a proverb, because he has forsaken the way.
Christian. Did you escape the slough of Despond?
Faith. Yes, but I met with one, whose name was Wanton, that had like to have done me a mischief.
Christian. How did you avoid it?
Faith. I remembered an old writing, which said, Her steps take hold of hell. So I shut my eyes. Then she railed on me, and I went my way.
Christian. Did you meet with no other assault?
Faith. Yes: at the foot of the hill Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked, “If I would be content to live with him?” I asked him his name; he said it was Adam the First. I asked what wages he would give? He told me, I should be his heir. Then I asked, how long time he would have me live with him? And he told me, “As long as he lived himself.”
Christian. And what conclusion did you come to?
Faith. At first I was inclined to go with him; but looking on his forehead, I saw there written, Put off the old man with his deeds.
Christian. And how then?
Faith. Then it came strongly into my mind, that however he flattered me now, when he got me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave. So I bade him say no more, for I would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me and said, “He would send such a one after me, as would make my way bitter to my soul.” So I turned away from him; but just as I turned, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch, that I thought he had pulled part of me after him. This made me cry, O wretched man! So I went on up the hill.
When I was but half-way up, I looked behind me and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind. So soon as he overtook me, down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. When I was come a little to myself I asked him, Why he used me so? He said, for inclining to Adam the First. And with that he struck me another blow on the breast, and beat me down backward. When I came to myself again, I cried for mercy. But he said, “I know not to shew mercy;” and knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me; but that one came by, and bade him “forbear.”
Christian. Who was he that bid him forbear?
Faith. I did not know him at first; but as he went by, I saw the holes in his hands and in his side.
Christian. The man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none that transgress his law. But did you not see the house on the top of the hill?
Faith. Yes; but it was about noon. So I past by.
Christian. Did you meet no one in the valley of Humiliation?
Faith. Yes, I met with one Shame: but I think he bears the wrong name; for I could not get quit of him. He would never have done.
Christian. Why, what did he say to you?
Faith. He said, it was a low mean thing to mind religion; and that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing: that few of the mighty, or rich, or wise, regarded it; nor any of them, till they became fools; till they were persuaded to venture the loss of all, for no body knows what. He objected also, the base and low estate of most of those who minded religion; likewise their ignorance and want of learning, yea, of natural understanding. He said, It was a shame to sit whining under a sermon, and to come sighing and groaning home: that it was a shame to ask my neighbour forgiveness; to make restitution, if I had taken from any; and, above all, to renounce all the men of credit and reputation, and to consort only with the poor and base.
Christian. And what did you say?
Faith. I knew not what to say at first, till it came into my mind, That which is highly esteemed of men, is had in abomination with God. Then I saw what God says is best, is so, though all the men in the world are against it. Therefore they who are fools for Christ’s sake, are the wisest of men; and the poor man that loveth him, is richer than he who hath thousands of gold and silver. I then said with a loud voice, Shame, depart! Thou art an enemy to my salvation. I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ; neither of his ways, nor of his servants. I will confess them all before men. So shall he confess me before my Father which is in heaven.
Christian. Did you meet no body else in the valley?
Faith. No; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way, and also through the valley of the Shadow of Death.
As they went on, Faithful looking on one side, saw one walking at a distance. He was a tall man, and more comely at a distance than at hand. Faithful accosted him in this manner:
Faith. Friend, whither away? Are you travelling toward mount Zion?
Man. To the very same.
Faith. I hope then we shall have your good company.
Man. With all my heart.
Faith. Come then, let us pass the time in discoursing of things profitable.
Man. It is very acceptable to me to talk of good things. I am glad I have met those that incline to so good a work. For, to speak the truth, there are but few that care thus to spend their time, but rather to speak of unprofitable things. And this hath been a trouble to me. For what is so pleasant as to talk of the things of God? Who would not delight to talk of miracles, wonders, and signs, which are so sweetly penned in the holy scripture?
Faith. But, to be profited by the things we talk of should be our chief design.
Man. Without doubt. And what so profitable as to talk of these things? Of the vanity of earthly things, and the excellency of things above? Or more particularly, of the insufficiency of our own, and the need of Christ’s righteousness? Of the necessity of the new birth, repentance, faith, and prayer, and all the graces of the holy Spirit?
Faith. I am glad to hear this from you.
Man. Alas, for want of this it is that so few understand the nature of faith, and the necessity of an inward change, in order to eternal life: but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which no flesh can be justified. But indeed a man can receive nothing except it be given him from above. All is of grace, not of works.
Faith. Well then, what shall we discourse of now?
Man. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or earthly, things moral or evangelical; things past or to come; provided that all be done to edifying.
Now did Faithful begin to wonder, and stepping to Christian, said softly, What a brave companion have we got? At this Christian smiled, and said, “This man’s tongue will beguile twenty of them that know him not.”
Faith. Do you know him then?
Christian. Yes, better than he knows himself. His name is Talkative; he comes from our town; his religion lies in his tongue, but has no place in his heart.
Faith. Then I am greatly deceived in him.
Christian. So you are. He is one of them that say and do not. He talks of faith, of prayer, and of the new birth. But he only talks of them. He is the stain and reproach of religion. It can scarce have a good word where he lives, thro’ him. “A saint abroad, (say his neighbours) and a devil at home.” His life has caused many to stumble and fall, and probably will cause many more.
Faith. Well, I see saying and doing are two things.
Christian. Indeed they are, but poor Talkative is not aware of this: he thinks hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and so deceives his own soul.
Faith. I am not so fond of his company now. But how shall we get rid of him?
Christian. Why, begin a serious discourse on the power of religion: and when he has approved of it, (for that he will) ask him plainly, whether it be set up in his heart, in his house, and in his conversation?
Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said, Come, what cheer? How is it now?
Talk. I thank you, I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this time.
Faith. Well then, let us begin; and since you leave me to chuse the question, let it be this? How does the saving grace of God discover itself, when it is in the heart of man?
Talk. I perceive then our talk is to be about the power of things. Well, ’tis a very good question. I answer thus; first, where the grace of God is in the heart, it causes a great outcry against sin. Secondly,—
Faith. Nay, hold. Let us consider one at once. I think you should rather say, it causeth the soul to abhor sin.
Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying out against, and abhorring sin?
Faith. O, a great deal. I have heard many cry out against sin, who could abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation. Some cry out against sin, as a mother cries out against the child in her lap: when she calls it slut and naughty girl; and then falls to kissing and hugging it.
Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive.
Faith. No, not I. I am only for setting matters right. But what is the second thing, which discovers a work of grace in the heart?
Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries.
Faith. This sign should have been first: but, first or last, it is good for nothing. For there may be great knowledge, of the mysteries of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in the heart: yea, though a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing; and consequently no child of God. When Christ said, Do ye know all these things? And the disciples answered, yes: he said, Happy are ye if ye do them. He doth not lay the blessing in knowing, but in doing them. Therefore this sign also is not true.
Talk. You lie at the catch again. This is not for edification.
Faith. Well, if you please, mention any other sign how this work of grace is discovered.
Talk. Not I; for I see we shall not agree.
Faith. Will you give me leave to do it?
Talk. You may use your pleasure.
Faith. A work of grace in the soul is discovered to him that has it thus: first, He is convinced of sin, especially of the entire corruption of his nature, and of unbelief; for which he is condemned already, and hath the wrath of God abiding on him. Secondly, He receiveth redemption in Christ’s blood, the ♦forgiveness of sins. Thirdly, Being justified by faith, he hath that peace of God which passeth all understanding. Fourthly, He rejoiceth in hope of the glory of God; he rejoiceth that he hath now received the atonement, the Spirit of God bearing witness with his spirit, that he is a child of God. Fifthly, The love of God is shed abroad in his heart, by the Holy Ghost which is given unto him. And, lastly, Hereby he knoweth he is of God, because he keepeth his commandments and sinneth not.