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'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last should prove on infinitum. and eat out the book that I already am about. Well, so I did, but yet I did not think to show 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 neighbor, 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 mercer 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 known my method by the end, still as I pulled it came, and so I penned it down, until it came at last to be, for length and breadth, the bigness which you see. Well, when I thus had 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, and others said no. Now was I in the straight and did not see which was the best thing to be done by me. At last I thought, since ye are thus divided, I will print it, and so the case decided. For thought I, some, I see, would have it done, Though others in that channel did not run. 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, these to gratify, I did not know, but hinder them I might, Of that which would to them be of great delight. For those which were not for its coming forth, I said to them, Offend you I am loath, 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 bones. Yea, that I might them better palitate, 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, give praise to both, and carpets not it either, but treasures up the fruit they yield together. Yea, so connixes 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 her blessings null. You see the ways the fisherman doth take to catch the fish, What engines doth he make? Behold how he engages 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 catched, whate'er 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's 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 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 thy 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 loath 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 by what 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 parables 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 Christ, his apostles too shall plainly see, That truth 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 luster 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 clouts I find, informs the judgment, rectifies the mind, pleases the understanding, Makes the will submit, the memory also it doth fill, With what doth our imagination please, Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. Sound words I know, Timothy is to use, An old wives' fable 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. Let me add one word more. O 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 expressed? Three things let me expound, then I submit to those that are my betters, as is fit. One, I find not that I am denied the use of this method, so I know 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 2, and that from them that have God better pleased, by their words or ways, than any man that breatheth nowadays. 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 make that intent. But yet let truth be free to make her sallies upon thee and me, which it pleases God. For who knows how better than he who taught us first to plough to guide our minds and pens for his design? And he makes base things usher in divine. Three, 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's mother, 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'll show the prophet of my book, and then Commit both thee and it unto thy 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 labor, and like fools do die. This book will make a traveler of thee, if by its counsels thou ruled wilt 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? Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable? Art thou forgetful? Or wouldst thou remember from New Year's Day to the last of December? Then read my fancies, they will stick like burrs, And may be to the helpless comforters. This book was writ in such a dialect As may the mind 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 in 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? wouldst thou lose thyself and catch no harm and find thyself again without a charm? wouldst read thyself and read thou knowest not what and yet know whether thou art blessed or not by reading the same lines O then come hither, and lay my book, thy head, and heart together. John Bunyan. The Author's Way of Sending Forth His Second Part of the Pilgrim Go now, my little book, to every place where my first pilgrim has but shown his face. Call at their door, if any say who's there, then answer thou, Christiana is here. If they bid thee come in, then enter thou with all thy boys, and then as thou knowest how, tell who they are, also from whence they came. Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or name. But if they should not, ask them yet again, if formerly they did not entertain one Christian, a pilgrim. If they say they did, and were delighted in his way, then let them know that those related were unto him, yea, his wife and children are. Tell them that they have left their house and home. Our turned pilgrims seek a world to come. that they have met with hardships in the way, that they do meet with troubles night and day, that they have trod on serpents, fought with devils, have also overcome many evils. Yea, tell them also of the next to have, of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave, defenders of that way, and how they still refuse this world to do their father's will. Go, tell them also of those dainty things that pilgrimage unto the pilgrim bring, Let them acquainted be too, how they are, Beloved of their King, under his care. What goodly mansions for them he provides, Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides! How brave a comb they will enjoy at last, Who to the Lord and by his ways hold fast! Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace thee, As they did my firstling, and will grace thee And thy fellows with such cheer and fare, As sure will they of pilgrims' lovers are. Objection 1. But how if they will not believe of me that I am truly thine? Cause some there be that counterfeit the pilgrim and his name, seek by disguise to seem the very same, and by that means have wrought themselves into the hands and houses of I know not who. Answer. Tis true some have of late to counterfeit my pilgrim to their own my title set. Yea, others have my name and title too. Have stitched to their books to make them do, But yet they by their features do declare Themselves not mine to be, whose heir they are. If such thou meetest with, then thine only way Before them all is to say out thy say In thine own native language, which no man now useth Nor with ease dissemble can. If after all they still of you shall doubt, Thinking that you, like gypsies, go about, in naughty wise the country to defile, or that ye seek good people to beguile with things unwarrantable, send for me, and I will testify you pilgrims be. Yea, I will testify that only you my pilgrims are, and that alone will do. Objection 2. But yet perhaps I may inquire for him of those that wish him damned, life and limb. What shall I do when I at such a door? For pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more. Answer, write not thyself my book, for such bugbears are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. My pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land, yet could I never come to understand that it was slighted or turned out of door by any kingdom, were they rich or poor. In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, My pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother. In Holland too, Tiz said, as I am told, my pilgrim is, with some, worth more than gold. Highlanders and wild Irish can agree, my pilgrim should familiar with them be. Tiz in New England, under such advance, receives there so much loving countenance, as to be trimmed, new clothed, and decked with gems, that it might show its features and its limbs. Yet more, so comely doth my pilgrim walk, That of him thousands daily sing and talk. If you draw nearer, home it will appear, My pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear. City and country will him entertain with, Welcome pilgrim, yea, they can't refrain from smiling, If my pilgrim be but by, or shows his head in any company. Brave gallants do my pilgrim hug and love, Esteem it much, yea, value it above, Things of a greater bulk Yea, with delight say, My lark's leg is better than a kite. Young ladies and young gentlewomen, too, Do no small kindness to my pilgrim show, Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts My pilgrim has, cause he to them imparts His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains, As yield and profit double to their pains of reading. Yea, I think I may be bold to say, Some prize him far above their gold, The very children that do walk the street, if they do but my holy pilgrim meet, salute him well, will wish him well and say, he is the only stripling of the day. They that have never seen him, yet admire what they have heard of him and much desire to have his company and hear him tell those pilgrim stories which he knows so well. Yea, some who did not love him at first, but called him fool and naughty, say they must, now they have seen and heard him, him commend. And to those whom they love, they do him send. Wherefore my second part, thou needest not be, afraid to show thy head. None can hurt thee, that wish but well to him that went before, cause thou camest after with a second store. Of things as good, as rich and profitable, for young, for old, for staggering, and for stable. Objection 3. But some there be that say, he laughs too loud, and some do say, his head is in a cloud. Some say his words and stories are so dark they know not how by them to find his mark. Answer. One may, I think, say both his laughs and cries may well be guessed at by his watery eyes. Some things are of that nature as to make one's fancy chuckle while his heart doth ache. When Jacob saw Rachel with the sheep, he did at the same time both kiss and weep. Whereas some say a cloud is in his head, that doth but show how wisdom's covered with its own mantles, and to stir the mind to search after what it fain would find. Things that seem to be hid in words obscure do but the godly mind the more allure, to study what those sayings should contain that speak to us in such a cloudy strain. I also know a dark similitude will on the fancy more itself intrude, and will stick faster in the heart and head than things from smiles not borrowed. Wherefore, my book, let no discouragement hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent to friends, not foes, To friends that will give place to thee my pilgrims, And thy words embrace. Besides, what my first pilgrim left concealed, Thou, my brave second pilgrim, hast revealed. What Christian left locked up, and went his way, Sweet Christiana opens with her key. OBJECTION 4 But some love not the method of your first, Romance they count it, Throw it away as dust. If I should meet with such, what should I say? Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay? Answer. My Christiana, if with such thou meet, By all means, in all loving wise, them greet. Render them not reviling for revile, But if they frown, I privy on them smile. Perhaps this nature, or some ill report, Has made them thus despise, or thus retort. Some love no cheese, Some love no fish, and some love not their friends, Nor their own house or home. Some start at pig, slight chicken love not fowl, More than they love a cuckoo or an owl. Lead such, my Christiana, to their choice, And seek those who to find thee will rejoice. By no means strive, but in all humble wise, Present thee to them in thy pilgrim's guise. Go then, my little book, and show to all That entertain and bid thee welcome shall. what thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest and wish what thou shalt show them may be blessed to them for good may make them choose to be pilgrims better by far than thee or me go then I say tell all men who thou art say I am Christiana and my part is now with my four sons to tell you what it is for men to take a pilgrim's lot go also tell them who and what they be that now do go on pilgrimage with thee Say, Here's my neighbor Mercy, She is one that has long time with me a pilgrim gone. Come, see her in her virgin face, And learn, to its idle ones and pilgrims to discern. Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was, The world which is to come in any wise, When little tripling maids follow God, And leave old doting sinners to his rod. Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried, Hosanna! to whom old ones did deride. Next, tell them of old Honest, whom you found, with his white hairs, trodding the pilgrim's ground. Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was, how after his good Lord he bare his cross. Perhaps with some grey head this may prevail, with Christ to fall in love, and in sin bewail. Tell them also how Master Fearing went on pilgrimage, and how the time he spent in solitariness, with fears and cries, and how at last he won the joyful prize. He was a good man, though much down in spirit. He is a good man, and doth life inherit. Tell them of Master Feeblemind also, who not before, but still behind, would go. Show them also how he had life been slain, and how one great heart did his life regain. This man was true of heart, though weak in grace. One might true godliness read in his face. Then tell them of Master Ready-to-Halt, a man with crutches, but much without fault. Tell them how Master Feeblemind and he did love, in opinions much agree. And let all know, though weakness was their chance, yet sometimes one could sing the other dance. Forget not Master Valiant for the truth, that man of courage, though a very youth. Tell everyone his spirit was so stout, no man could ever make him face about. And how Great Heart and he could not forbear, but put down Doubting Castle, slay despair. Overlook not master despondency, nor much afraid his daughter, Though they lie under such mantles as may make them look, With some, as if their God had them forsook. They softly went, but sure, and at the end, Found that the Lord of pilgrims was their friend. Who now hath told the world of all these things, Then turn about my book, and touch those strings, Which, if be touched, will such music make, They'll make a crippled dance, a giant quake. These riddles that lie couched within thy breast freely propound, expound, and for the rest of thy mysterious lines let them remain for those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. Now may this little book a blessing be to those who love this little book and me, and may its buyer have no cause to say his money is but lost or thrown away. Yea, may this second pilgrim yield that fruit As may with each good pilgrim's fancy suit, And may it some persuade that go astray, To turn their feet and heart to the right way, Is the hearty prayer of the author, John Bunyan. This is the end of the book. This Reformation audio track is a production of Stillwater's Revival Books. SWRB makes thousands of classic Reformation resources available, free and for sale, in audio, video, and printed formats. Our many free resources, as well as our complete mail-order catalog containing thousands of classic and contemporary Puritan and Reform books, tapes and videos at great discounts, is on the web at www.swrb.com. We can also be reached by email. by phone at 780-450-3730 by fax at 780-468-1096 or by mail at 4710-37A Edmonton, that's E-D-M-O-N-T-O-N Alberta, abbreviated capital A, capital B, Canada, T6L3T5. You may also request a free printed catalog. And remember that John Calvin, in defending the Reformation's regulative principle of worship, or what is sometimes called the scriptural law of worship, commenting on the words of God, which I commanded them not, neither came into my heart. From his commentary on Jeremiah 731, writes, God here cuts off from men every occasion for making evasions, since He condemns by this one phrase, I have not commanded them, whatever the Jews devised. There is then no other argument needed to condemn superstitions than that they are not commanded by God. For when men allow themselves to worship God according to their own fancies, and attend not to His commands, they pervert true religion. And if this principle was adopted by the Papists, all those fictitious modes of worship in which they absurdly exercise themselves would fall to the ground. It is indeed a horrible thing for the Papists to seek to discharge their duties towards God by performing their own superstitions. There is an immense number of them, as it is well known, and as it manifestly appears. Were they to admit this principle, that we cannot rightly worship God except by obeying His word, they would be delivered from their deep abyss of error. The Prophet's words, then, are very important, when he says that God had commanded no such thing, and that it never came to his mind, as though he had said that men assume too much wisdom when they devise what he never required, nay, what he never knew.