The Works of John Bunyan, vol 3, John Bunyan [ebook reader color screen TXT] 📗

To show, by man’s lapsed state, his misery.

The candle that was taken down and lighted, Thereby to find them fallen and benighted, Is Jesus Christ; God, by his light, doth gather Who he will save, and be unto a Father.

XXXVII.

UPON A PENNY LOAF.

Thy price one penny is in time of plenty, In famine doubled, ‘tis from one to twenty.

Yea, no man knows what price on thee to set When there is but one penny loaf to get.

Comparison.

This loaf’s an emblem of the Word of God, A thing of low esteem before the rod

Of famine smites the soul with fear of death, But then it is our all, our life, our breath.[36]

XXXVIII.

THE BOY AND WATCHMAKER.

This watch my father did on me bestow,

A golden one it is, but ‘twill not go,

Unless it be at an uncertainty:

But as good none as one to tell a lie.

When ‘tis high day my hand will stand at nine; I think there’s no man’s watch so bad as mine.

Sometimes ‘tis sullen, ‘twill not go at all, And yet ‘twas never broke nor had a fall.

Watchmaker.

Your watch, though it be good, through want of skill May fail to do according to your will.

Suppose the balance, wheels, and springs be good, And all things else, unless you understood To manage it, as watches ought to be,

Your watch will still be at uncertainty.

Come, tell me, do you keep it from the dust, Yea, wind it also duly up you must?

Take heed, too, that you do not strain the spring; You must be circumspect in every thing,

Or else your watch, were it as good again, Would not with time and tide you entertain.

Comparison.

This boy an emblem is of a convert,

His watch of the work of grace within his heart, The watchmaker is Jesus Christ our Lord, His counsel, the directions of his Word; Then convert, if thy heart be out of frame, Of this watchmaker learn to mend the same.

Do not lay ope’ thy heart to worldly dust, Nor let thy graces over-grow with rust,

Be oft’ renewed in the’ spirit of thy mind, Or else uncertain thou thy watch wilt find.

XXXIX.

UPON A LOOKING-GLASS.

In this see thou thy beauty, hast thou any, Or thy defects, should they be few or many.

Thou may’st, too, here thy spots and freckles see, Hast thou but eyes, and what their numbers be.

But art thou blind? There is no looking-glass Can show thee thy defects, thy spots, or face.

Comparison.

Unto this glass we may compare the Word, For that to man advantage doth afford

(Has he a mind to know himself and state), To see what will be his eternal fate.

But without eyes, alas! how can he see?

Many that seem to look here, blind men be.

This is the reason they so often read

Their judgment there, and do it nothing dread.

XL.

OF THE LOVE OF CHRIST.

The love of Christ, poor I! may touch upon; But ‘tis unsearchable. O! there is none

Its large dimensions can comprehend

Should they dilate thereon world without end.

When we had sinned, in his zeal he sware, That he upon his back our sins would bear.

And since unto sin is entailed death,

He vowed for our sins he’d lose his breath.

He did not only say, vow, or resolve,

But to astonishment did so involve

Himself in man’s distress and misery,

As for, and with him, both to live and die.

To his eternal fame in sacred story,

We find that he did lay aside his glory, Stepped from the throne of highest dignity, Became poor man, did in a manger lie;

Yea, was beholden unto his for bread,

Had, of his own, not where to lay his head; Though rich, he did for us become thus poor, That he might make us rich for evermore.

Nor was this but the least of what he did, But the outside of what he suffered?

God made his blessed son under the law,

Under the curse, which, like the lion’s paw, Did rent and tear his soul for mankind’s sin, More than if we for it in hell had been.

His cries, his tears, and bloody agony,

The nature of his death doth testify.

Nor did he of constraint himself thus give, For sin, to death, that man might with him live.

He did do what he did most willingly,

He sung, and gave God thanks, that he must die.

But do kings use to die for captive slaves?

Yet we were such when Jesus died to save’s.

Yea, when he made himself a sacrifice,

It was that he might save his enemies.

And though he was provoked to retract

His blest resolves for such so good an act, By the abusive carriages of those

That did both him, his love, and grace oppose; Yet he, as unconcerned with such things, Goes on, determines to make captives kings; Yea, many of his murderers he takes

Into his favour, and them princes makes.

XLI.

ON THE CACKLING OF A HEN.

The hen, so soon as she an egg doth lay, (Spreads the fame of her doing what she may.) About the yard she cackling now doth go, To tell what ‘twas she at her nest did do.

Just thus it is with some professing men, If they do ought that good is, like our hen They can but cackle on’t where e’er they go, What their right hand doth their left hand must know.

XLII.

UPON AN HOUR-GLASS.

This glass, when made, was, by the workman’s skill, The sum of sixty minutes to fulfil.

Time, more nor less, by it will out be spun, But just an hour, and then the glass is run.

Man’s life we will compare unto this glass, The number of his months he cannot pass; But when he has accomplished his day,

He, like a vapour, vanisheth away.

XLIII.

UPON A SNAIL.

She goes but softly, but she goeth sure, She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do.

Her journey’s shorter, so she may endure Better than they which do much farther go.

She makes no noise, but stilly seizeth on The flower or herb appointed for her food, The which she quietly doth feed upon

While others range and glare, but find no good.

And though she doth but very softly go,

However, ‘tis not fast nor slow, but sure; And certainly they that do travel so, The prize they do aim at they do procure.

Comparison.

Although they seem not much to stir, less go, For Christ that hunger, or from wrath that flee, Yet what they seek for quickly they come to, Though it doth seem the farthest off to be.

One act of faith doth bring them to that flower They so long for, that they may eat and live, Which, to attain, is not in others power, Though for it a king’s ransom they would give.

Then let none faint, nor be at all dismayed That life by Christ do seek, they shall not fail To have it; let them nothing be afraid;

The herb and flower are eaten by the snail.[37]

XLIV.

OF THE SPOUSE OF CHRIST.

Who’s this that cometh from the wilderness, Like smokey pillars thus perfum’d with myrrh, Leaning upon her dearest in distress,

Led into’s bosom by the Comforter?

She’s clothed with the sun, crowned with twelve stars, The spotted moon her footstool she hath made.

The dragon her assaults, fills her with jars, Yet rests she under her Beloved’s shade, But whence was she? what is her pedigree?

Was not her father a poor Amorite?

What was her mother but as others be,

A poor, a wretched, and a sinful Hittite.

Yea, as for her, the day that she was born, As loathsome, out of doors they did her cast; Naked and filthy, stinking and forlorn;

This was her pedigree from first to last.

Nor was she pitied in this estate,

All let her lie polluted in her blood: None her condition did commiserate, There was no heart that sought to do her good.

Yet she unto these ornaments is come,

Her breasts are fashioned, her hair is grown; She is made heiress of the best kingdom; All her indignities away are blown.

Cast out she was, but now she home is taken, Naked (sometimes), but now, you see, she’s cloth’d; Now made the darling, though before forsaken, Barefoot, but now as princes’ daughters shod.

Instead of filth, she now has her perfumes; Instead of ignominy, her chains of gold: Instead of what the beauty most consumes, Her beauty’s perfect, lovely to behold.

Those that attend and wait upon her be

Princes of honour, clothed in white array; Upon her head’s a crown of gold, and she Eats wheat, honey, and oil, from day to day.

For her beloved, he’s the high’st of all, The only Potentate, the King of kings: Angels and men do him Jehovah call,

And from him life and glory always springs.

He’s white and ruddy, and of all the chief: His head, his locks, his eyes, his hands, and feet, Do, for completeness, out-go all belief; His cheeks like flowers are, his mouth most sweet.

As for his wealth, he is made heir of all; What is in heaven, what is on earth is his: And he this lady his joint-heir doth call, Of all that shall be, or at present is.

Well, lady, well, God has been good to thee; Thou of an outcast, now art made a queen.

Few, or none, may with thee compared be, A beggar made thus high is seldom seen.

Take heed of pride, remember what thou art By nature, though thou hast in grace a share, Thou in thyself dost yet retain a part

Of thine own filthiness; wherefore beware.

XLV.

UPON A SKILFUL PLAYER OF AN INSTRUMENT.

He that can play well on an instrument,

Will take the ear, and captivate the mind With mirth or sadness; for that it is bent Thereto, as music in it place doth find.

But if one hears that hath therein no skill, (As often music lights of such a chance) Of its brave notes they soon be weary will: And there are some can neither sing nor dance.

Comparison.

Unto him that thus skilfully doth play,

God doth compare a gospel-minister,

That rightly preacheth, and doth godly pray, Applying truly what doth thence infer.

This man, whether of wrath or grace he preach, So skilfully doth handle every word; And by his saying doth the heart so reach, That it doth joy or sigh before the Lord.

But some there be, which, as the brute, doth lie Under the Word, without the least advance Godward; such do despise the ministry;