The Works of John Bunyan, vol 3 by John Bunyan (summer books .TXT) 📕

as if the town was up to stone thee.

If hogs do grunt, or silly rats do rustle, Thou art in consternation, think’st a bustle By men about the door, is made to take thee, And all because good conscience doth forsake thee.

Thy case is most deplorably so bad,

Thou shunn’st to think on’t, lest thou should’st be mad.

Thou art beset with mischiefs every way, The gallows groaneth for thee every day.

Wherefore, I pr’ythee, thief, thy theft forbear, Consult thy safety, pr’ythee, have a care.

If once thy head be got within the noose, ‘Twill be too late a longer life to choose.

As to the penitent thou readest of,

What’s that to them who at repentance scoff.

Nor is that grace at thy command or power, That thou should’st put it off till the last hour.

I pr’ythee, thief, think on’t, and turn betime; Few go to life who do the gallows climb.

XXVII.

OF THE CHILD WITH THE BIRD AT THE BUSH.

My little bird, how canst thou sit

And sing amidst so many thorns?

Let me a hold upon thee get,

My love with honour thee adorns.

Thou art at present little worth,

Five farthings none will give for thee, But pr’ythee, little bird, come forth, Thou of more value art to me.

‘Tis true it is sunshine to-day,

To-morrow birds will have a storm;

My pretty one come thou away,

My bosom then shall keep thee warm.

Thou subject are to cold o’nights,

When darkness is thy covering;

At days thy danger’s great by kites,

How can’st thou then sit there and sing?

Thy food is scarce and scanty too,

‘Tis worms and trash which thou dost eat; Thy present state I pity do, Come, I’ll provide thee better meat.

I’ll feed thee with white bread and milk, And sugar plums, if them thou crave.

I’ll cover thee with finest silk,

That from the cold I may thee save.

My father’s palace shall be thine,

Yea, in it thou shalt sit and sing;

My little bird, if thou’lt be mine,

The whole year round shall be thy spring.

I’ll teach thee all the notes at court,

Unthought-of music thou shalt play;

And all that thither do resort,

Shall praise thee for it every day.

I’ll keep thee safe from cat and cur,

No manner o’ harm shall come to thee; Yea, I will be thy succourer, My bosom shall thy cabin be.

But lo, behold, the bird is gone;

These charmings would not make her yield; The child’s left at the bush alone, The bird flies yonder o’er the field.

Comparison.

This child of Christ an emblem is,

The bird to sinners I compare,

The thorns are like those sins of his

Which do surround him everywhere.

Her songs, her food, and sunshine day,

Are emblems of those foolish toys,

Which to destruction lead the way,

The fruit of worldly, empty joys.

The arguments this child doth choose

To draw to him a bird thus wild,

Shows Christ familiar speech doth use

To make’s to him be reconciled.

The bird in that she takes her wing,

To speed her from him after all,

Shows us vain man loves any thing

Much better than the heavenly call.

XXVIII.

OF MOSES AND HIS WIFE.

This Moses was a fair and comely man,

His wife a swarthy Ethiopian;

Nor did his milk-white bosom change her sin.

She came out thence as black as she went in.

Now Moses was a type of Moses’ law,

His wife likewise of one that never saw

Another way unto eternal life;

There’s mystery, then, in Moses and his wife.

The law is very holy, just, and good,

And to it is espoused all flesh and blood; But this its goodness it cannot bestow

On any that are wedded thereunto.

Therefore as Moses’ wife came swarthy in, And went out from him without change of skin, So he that doth the law for life adore,

Shall yet by it be left a black-a-more.

XXIX.

OF THE ROSE-BUSH.

This homely bush doth to mine eyes expose A very fair, yea, comely ruddy rose.

This rose doth also bow its head to me,

Saying, Come, pluck me, I thy rose will be; Yet offer I to gather rose or bud,

Ten to one but the bush will have my blood.

This looks like a trapan,[34] or a decoy, To offer, and yet snap, who would enjoy; Yea, the more eager on’t, the more in danger, Be he the master of it, or a stranger.

Bush, why dost bear a rose if none must have it.

Who dost expose it, yet claw those that crave it?

Art become freakish? dost the wanton play, Or doth thy testy humour tend its way?

Comparison.

This rose God’s Son is, with his ruddy looks.

But what’s the bush, whose pricks, like tenter-hooks, Do scratch and claw the finest lady’s hands, Or rend her clothes, if she too near it stands?

This bush an emblem is of Adam’s race,

Of which Christ came, when he his Father’s grace Commended to us in his crimson blood,

While he in sinners’ stead and nature stood.

Thus Adam’s race did bear this dainty rose, And doth the same to Adam’s race expose; But those of Adam’s race which at it catch, Adam’s race will them prick, and claw, and scratch.

XXX.

OF THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN.

What, hast thou run thy race, art going down?

Thou seemest angry, why dost on us frown?

Yea, wrap thy head with clouds and hide thy face, As threatening to withdraw from us thy grace?

O leave us not! When once thou hid’st thy head, Our horizon with darkness will be spread.

Tell who hath thee offended, turn again.

Alas! too late, intreaties are in vain.

Comparison.

Our gospel has had here a summer’s day,

But in its sunshine we, like fools, did play; Or else fall out, and with each other wrangle, And did, instead of work, not much but jangle.

And if our sun seems angry, hides his face, Shall it go down, shall night possess this place?

Let not the voice of night birds us afflict, And of our misspent summer us convict.[35]

XXXI.

UPON THE FROG.

The frog by nature is both damp and cold, Her mouth is large, her belly much will hold; She sits somewhat ascending, loves to be Croaking in gardens, though unpleasantly.

Comparison.

The hypocrite is like unto this frog,

As like as is the puppy to the dog.

He is of nature cold, his mouth is wide

To prate, and at true goodness to deride.

He mounts his head as if he was above

The world, when yet ‘tis that which has his love.

And though he seeks in churches for to croak, He neither loveth Jesus nor his yoke.

XXXII.

UPON THE WHIPPING OF A TOP.

‘Tis with the whip the boy sets up the top, The whip makes it run round upon its toe; The whip makes it hither and thither hop: ‘Tis with the whip the top is made to go.

Comparison.

Our legalist is like unto this top,

Without a whip he doth not duty do;

Let Moses whip him, he will skip and hop; Forbear to whip, he’ll neither stand nor go.

XXXIII.

UPON THE PISMIRE.

Must we unto the pismire go to school,

To learn of her in summer to provide For winter next ensuing. Man’s a fool, Or silly ants would not be made his guide.

But, sluggard, is it not a shame for thee To be outdone by pismires? Pr’ythee hear: Their works, too, will thy condemnation be When at the judgment-seat thou shalt appear.

But since thy God doth bid thee to her go, Obey, her ways consider, and be wise; The piss-ant tell thee will what thou must do, And set the way to life before thine eyes.

XXXIV.

UPON THE BEGGAR.

He wants, he asks, he pleads his poverty, They within doors do him an alms deny.

He doth repeat and aggravate his grief,

But they repulse him, give him no relief.

He begs, they say, Begone; he will not hear, But coughs, sighs, and makes signs he still is there; They disregard him, he repeats his groans; They still say nay, and he himself bemoans.

They grow more rugged, they call him vagrant; He cries the shriller, trumpets out his want.

At last, when they perceive he’ll take no nay, An alms they give him without more delay.

Comparison.

This beggar doth resemble them that pray To God for mercy, and will take no nay,

But wait, and count that all his hard gainsays Are nothing else but fatherly delays;

Then imitate him, praying souls, and cry: There’s nothing like to importunity.

XXXV.

UPON THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

There’s one rides very sagely on the road, Showing that he affects the gravest mode.

Another rides tantivy, or full trot,

To show much gravity he matters not.

Lo, here comes one amain, he rides full speed, Hedge, ditch, nor miry bog, he doth not heed.

One claws it up-hill without stop or check, Another down as if he’d break his neck.

Now every horse has his especial guider; Then by his going you may know the rider.

Comparison.

Now let us turn our horse into a man,

His rider to a spirit, if we can.

Then let us, by the methods of the guider, Tell every horse how he should know his rider.

Some go, as men, direct in a right way,

Nor are they suffered to go astray;

As with a bridle they are governed,

And kept from paths which lead unto the dead.

Now this good man has his especial guider, Then by his going let him know his rider.

Some go as if they did not greatly care, Whether of heaven or hell they should be heir.

The rein, it seems, is laid upon their neck, They seem to go their way without a check.

Now this man too has his especial guider, And by his going he may know his rider.

Some again run as if resolved to die,

Body and soul, to all eternity.

Good counsel they by no means can abide; They’ll have their course whatever them betide.

Now these poor men have their especial guider, Were they not fools they soon might know their rider.

There’s one makes head against all godliness, Those too, that do profess it, he’ll distress; He’ll taunt and flout if goodness doth appear, And at its countenancers mock and jeer.

Now this man, too, has his especial guider, And by his going he might know his rider.

XXXVI.

UPON THE SIGHT OF A POUND OF CANDLES

FALLING TO THE GROUND.

But be the candles down, and scattered too, Some lying here, some there? What shall we do?

Hold, light the candle there that stands on high, It you may find the other candles by.

Light that, I say, and so take up the pound You did let fall and scatter on the ground.

Comparison.

The fallen candles do us intimate

The bulk of God’s elect in their laps’d state; Their lying scattered in the dark may be