We Are Passing We Shall Never Never Tread This Pilgrim Way Again


The Author'due south Amends for his Book

When at the get-go I took my pen in hand,
Thus for to write, I did not understand
That I at all should make a piddling volume
In such a mode; nay, I had undertook
To make another; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware, I this begun.
And thus information technology was: I, writing of the mode
And race of saints, in this our gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the style to glory,
In more than than twenty things which I set down.
This washed, I twenty more had in my crown;
And they again began to multiply,
Similar sparks that from the coals of burn practise fly.
Nay, so, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'll put you past yourselves, lest y'all at last
Should testify ad infinitum, and eat out
The book that I already am about.
Well, and so I did; but nonetheless I did not remember
To shew 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 neighbor: no, not I;
I did information technology my own self to gratify.
Neither did I just vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble; nor did I intend
Only to divert myself in doing this
From worser thoughts which make me practice amiss.
Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And speedily had my thoughts in black and white.
For, having now my method past the end,
Notwithstanding as I pulled, it came; and then I penned
It down: until information technology came at final to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.
Well, when I had thus put mine ends together,
I shewed 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, Non so;
Some said, It might do good; others said, No.
At present was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to exist done by me:
At last I thought, Since you are thus divided,
I print information technology will, and so the instance decided.
For, idea I, some, I meet, would have it washed,
Though others in that aqueduct do not run:
To prove, then, who advised for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.
I farther idea, if now I did deny
Those that would take it, thus to gratify.
I did not know but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be neat please.
For those which were non for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you lot I am loath,
Notwithstanding, since your brethren pleased with it exist,
Forbear to estimate till you do further see.
If that thousand wilt not read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, some dear to selection the bone.
Yea, that I might them ameliorate palliate,
I did likewise with them thus expostulate: --
May I not write in such a style as this?
In such a method, as well, and yet not miss
My cease -- thy good? Why may information technology not exist done?
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
Cause to descend, the world, 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 her fruit
None can distinguish this from that: they accommodate
Her well when hungry; just, if she be total,
She spews out both, and makes their blessings nil.
You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To take hold of the fish; what engines doth he make?
Behold! how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets;
Nevertheless fish there be, that neither hook, nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine tin can make thine:
They must be groped for, and be tickled also,
Or they will non exist catch'd, whate'er you do.
How doth the fowler seek to catch his game
Past 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 piping and whistle to catch this,
Yet, if he does so, that bird he volition miss.
If that a pearl may in a toad's caput dwell,
And may be found also in an oyster-beat;
If things that promise naught do incorporate
What meliorate is than golden; who will disdain,
That have an inkling of information technology, at that place to look,
That they may detect it? Now, my lilliputian book,
(Though void of all these paintings that may brand
It with this or the other man to have,)
Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave but empty notions dwell.
'Well, yet I am non fully satisfied,
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried.'
Why, what's the matter? 'Information technology is dark.' What though?
'But it is feigned.' What of that? I trow
Some men, past feigned words, as nighttime as mine,
Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine.
'But they want solidness.' Speak, homo, 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'due south laws,
His gospel laws, in olden times held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loath
Will any sober man be to find error
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 desire solidness -- that I am rude;
All things solid in show not solid be;
All things in parables despise not nosotros;
Lest things near hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that adept are, of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, equally cabinets enclose the gold.
The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth; yea, who so considers
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? Notwithstanding in that location springs
From that aforementioned volume that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.
Come, let my carper to his life now expect,
And find there darker lines than in my book
He findeth any; yea, and let him know,
That in his all-time things at that place are worse lines likewise.
May we just stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I dare hazard ten,
That they volition have my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I detect,
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit; the memory besides it doth fill
With what doth our imaginations please;
Too it tends our troubles to appease.
Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse;
Only nevertheless grave Paul him nowhere did foreclose
The use of parables; in which lay hid
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest intendance.
Let me add one discussion more than. O human of God,
Art g offended? Dost one thousand wish I had
Put along my thing in another dress?
Or, that I had in things been more express?
Three things let me propound; so I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.
ane. I find non that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no corruption
Put on the words, things, readers; or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,
In application; only, all that I may,
Seek the accelerate of truth this or that way
Denied, did I say? Nay, I take leave
(Example too, and that from them that accept
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 loftier 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 apply
To that intent; but even so 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 usa starting time to plow,
To guide our listen and pens for his design?
And he makes base things usher in divine.
3. I detect that holy writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one matter, to gear up forth another;
Employ it I may, then, and nonetheless nothing smother
Truth's gold beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays equally light as solar day.
And at present before I do put upward my pen,
I'll shew the profit of my volume, and then
Commit both thee and it unto that Hand
That pulls the stiff down, and makes weak ones stand.
This book it chalketh out earlier thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize;
It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes;
What he leaves undone, also what he does;
It also shews you how he runs and runs,
Till he unto the gate of celebrity comes.
Information technology shews, too, who set out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would obtain;
Hither also you may see the reason why
They lose their labour, and like fools practice die.
This book will make a traveller of thee,
If past its counsel 1000 wilt ruled exist;
Information technology will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If one thousand wilt its directions understand:
Yea, it will brand the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.
Fine art thou for something rare and profitable?
Wouldest thou meet a truth within a legend?
Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou recollect
From New-Year's twenty-four hours to the last of December?
And so 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 bear on:
Information technology seems a novelty, and nevertheless contains
Aught but sound and honest gospel strains.
Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy?
Wouldst one thousand exist pleasant, yet be far from folly?
Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation?
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?
Dost one thousand honey 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 slumber?
Or wouldst thousand in a moment laugh and weep?
Wouldst thou lose thyself and catch no harm,
And find thyself over again without a charm?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest non what,
And still know whether 1000 fine art blessed or non,
Past reading the aforementioned lines? Oh, then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and eye together.

J OHN BUNYAN.

s I walked through the wilderness of this globe, I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, and I laid me down in that identify to slumber: and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain identify, with his face from his own house, a book in his paw, and a neat burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open up the book, and read therein; and, every bit he read, he wept, and trembled; and, non being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, What shall I do?
In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; simply he could not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his heed to his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them: O my dear wife, said he, and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am for certain informed that this our urban center will be burned with burn from sky; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my wife, and yous my sugariness babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet I see non) some way of escape can be found, whereby nosotros may be delivered. At this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them was truthful, but because they idea that some frenzy 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. Only the night was every bit troublesome to him equally the twenty-four hours; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. And so, when the morning was come, they would know how he did. He told them, Worse and worse: he as well ready to talking to them again; simply they began to exist hardened. They besides thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriages 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 sleeping room, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying: and thus for some days he spent his fourth dimension.
At present, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was, every bit he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his heed; and, equally he read, he burst out, as he had washed before, crying, What shall I practice to be saved?
I saw also that he looked this way and that style, as if he would run; yet he stood even so, because, every bit I perceived, he could not tell which way to get. I looked so, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, who asked, Wherefore dost thou cry? He answered, Sir, I perceive past the volume in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and afterwards that to come to judgment; and I observe that I am non willing to practice the kickoff, nor able to exercise the 2d.

Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee;
See if one thousand canst interpret it to me,
Or to thyself, or neighbour; but take heed
Of misinterpreting; for that, instead
Of doing good, will but thyself corruption:
By misinterpreting, evil ensues.
Take mind, also, that grand be not extreme,
In playing with the outside of my dream:
Nor let my figure or similitude
Put thee into a laughter or a feud.
Get out this for boys and fools; merely as for thee,
Do k the substance of my matter see.
Put by the curtains, look inside my veil,
Turn up my metaphors, and do non fail,
There, if thou seekest them, such things to find,
As will exist helpful to an honest mind.
What of my dross thou findest there, be bold
To throw abroad, but however preserve the golden;
What if my aureate exist wrapped up in ore? --
None throws away the apple for the core.
Just if thou shalt bandage all abroad as vain,
I know non but 'twill make me dream again.

kennedymushmers.blogspot.com

Source: http://www.luminarium.org/renascence-editions/bunyan1.html

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