The Pilgrim's Progress

The Author’s Defense of His Book

When at the first I took my pen in hand,
Thus for to write, I did not understand
That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode: nay, I had undertook
To make another; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware, I this begun.

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 to have no end, and eat out
The book that I already am about.

Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show 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 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 worse thoughts which make me do amiss.

Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts on black and white.
For having now 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 had thus 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; others said, No

Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:
At last I thought; since you 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 do 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, thus to gratify;
I did not know, but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be 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 bone.
Yea, that I might them better reconcile,
I did too reason with them in this style:

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,
Gives praise to both, and finds fault not with either,
But treasures up the fruit they yield together:
Yea, so she mixes both, that in her fruit
None can distinguish this from that; they suit
Her well when hungry: but if she be full,
She spews out both, and makes their blessings null

You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish; what tackle doth he make!
Behold! how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares, lines, rods, hooks, and nets.
Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor tackle can make thine:
They must be felt for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be caught, whate’er you do.

How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By varied means! All which one cannot name:
His gun, his nets, his sticky 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-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 those trimmings that may make
It with this or the other man to take),
Is not without those things that do excel
What do in grand, 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 I 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 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 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, 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, exceeds 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 night to days.

Come, let my critic 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 dare adventure ten;
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, truth, although in swaddling cloths, I find,
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit; the memory, too, it doth fill
With what doth our imaginations please;
Likewise, it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives’ fables he is to refuse;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere did 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 express?
Three things let me propound, then I submit
To those that are my betters (as is fit):

1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this, my method, so I no 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, too, 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 most excellent 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 that intent; but yet 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 us first to plow,
To guide our mind and pens for his design?
And he makes base things usher in divine.

3. I find that Holy Writ, in many places,
Has likeness to this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing to set forth another;
Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
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 profit of my book, and then
Commit both thee and it unto that hand
That pulls the strong down and makes weak ones stand.

This book, it sketches 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 attain;
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 counsel thou wilt ruled 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?
Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable?
Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New Year’s Day to the last of December?
Then 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 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 know’st not what,
And yet know whether thou art blessed or not
By reading the same lines? Oh then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

John Bunyan

Leaving the City of Destruction

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I came to a place where there was a den. I lay down there to sleep, and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. In my dream I saw a man dressed in rags, standing with his face turned away from his own house. He held a book in his hand and carried a great burden on his back (Isa 64:6; Luke 14:33; Ps 38:4; Hab 2:2; Acts 16:31). I watched him open the book and read. As he read, he wept and trembled. At last he could contain himself no longer and burst out with a sorrowful cry: “What shall I do?” (Acts 2:37).

In this state he went home. He restrained himself as long as he could so his wife and children would not notice his distress. But as his trouble grew, he could not keep silent for long. At last he told them what was on his mind.

“My dear wife,” he began, “and you, my own dear children, I, your loving friend, am ruined by a burden that weighs heavily on me. What is more, I have been told with certainty that our city will be burned by fire from heaven. In that terrible destruction, I, you, my wife, and you, my sweet children, will all come to a miserable end unless some way of escape can be found to deliver us. As yet, I can see no such way.”

His family was deeply alarmed. They did not believe what he had told them; they thought some fit of madness had taken hold of him. Night was approaching, and they hoped sleep might settle his mind, so they hurried him to bed. But the night troubled him as much as the day. Instead of sleeping, he spent it sighing and weeping.

In the morning they asked how he was. He told them he was worse and worse, and began talking to them again. But they grew hard toward him. They thought harsh, ill-tempered treatment would drive away his disorder. Sometimes they mocked him, sometimes they scolded him, and sometimes they ignored him altogether.

So he began withdrawing to his room to pray for them, pity them, and mourn his own misery. He also walked alone in the fields, sometimes reading and sometimes praying. He spent several days this way.

Then I saw him walking in the fields, reading his book as usual, deeply distressed. As he read, he burst out again: “What shall I do to be saved?” (Acts 16:30-31).

I also saw him looking this way and that, as though he would run. Yet he stood still because, as I could see, he did not know which way to go. Then I saw a man named Evangelist approach him.

“Why are you crying?” Evangelist asked.

“Sir,” he answered, “I can see from the book in my hand that I am condemned to die and afterward to face judgment (Heb 9:27). I find that I am unwilling to do the first (Job 16:21-22) and unable to face the second (Ezek 22:14).”

“Why are you unwilling to die,” Evangelist asked, “when this life has so many troubles?”

“Because I am afraid this burden on my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I will fall into Tophet (Isa 30:33). Sir, if I am not fit to go to prison, I am certainly not fit to go to judgment and from there to execution. Thinking of these things makes me cry.”

“If that is your condition,” Evangelist said, “why are you standing still?”

“Because I do not know where to go.”

Evangelist gave him a parchment scroll on which these words were written: “Fly from the wrath to come” (Matt 3:7).

The man read it, looked intently at Evangelist, and asked, “Where must I flee?”

Evangelist pointed across a very wide field. “Do you see that little wicket gate over there?” (Matt 7:13).

“No,” the man said.

“Do you see that shining light?” (Ps 119:105; 2 Pet 1:19).

“I think I do.”

“Keep that light in sight and go straight toward it. Then you will see the gate. When you knock there, you will be told what to do.”

Then I saw in my dream that the man began to run. He had not gone far from his own door when his wife and children noticed and cried out for him to return (Luke 14:26). But he put his fingers in his ears and ran on, crying, “Life! Life! Eternal life!” He did not look behind him (Gen 19:17), but fled toward the middle of the plain.

The neighbors also came out to watch him run. As he ran, some mocked him, others threatened him, and some called for him to return. Among these were two men determined to bring him back by force (Jer 20:10). One was named Obstinate and the other Pliable. By now the man was a good distance ahead, but they were determined to pursue him. They did so and soon caught up.

“Neighbors, why have you come?” the man asked.

“To persuade you to come back with us.”

“That is quite impossible,” he replied. “You live in the City of Destruction, where I was also born. I now see it for what it is. If you die there, sooner or later you will sink lower than the grave, into a place burning with fire and sulfur. Please, good neighbors, come along with me.”

“What?” said Obstinate. “And leave our friends and comforts behind?”

“Yes,” said Christian, for that was his name. “Everything you would leave behind (2 Cor 4:18) is not worth comparing with even a little of what I am seeking to enjoy. If you come with me and keep going, you will fare as well as I do. Where I am going, there is more than enough (Luke 15:17). Come and see whether my words are true.”

“What are you seeking,” Obstinate asked, “that makes you leave the whole world to find it?”

“I seek an ‘inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away’ (1 Pet 1:4). It is stored up in heaven (Heb 11:16), safe there until the appointed time, when it will be given to those who diligently seek it. You can read that in my book, if you like.”

“Nonsense!” said Obstinate. “Away with your book! Will you come back with us or not?”

“No, I will not,” Christian replied, “because I have put my hand to the plow” (Luke 9:62).

“Come on, then, neighbor Pliable,” said Obstinate. “Let us turn around and go home without him. There is a whole crowd of these crazy fools who, once they seize on a notion, think themselves wiser than seven men who can give a reason for their views” (Prov 26:16).

“Do not insult him,” Pliable said. “If what good Christian says is true, what he is looking for is better than what we have. My heart inclines me to go with my neighbor.”

“What! Still more fools? Take my advice and go back. Who knows where such a mad fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and be wise.”

“No, Obstinate,” Christian said, “come with your neighbor Pliable. The things I spoke of are there to be had, and many more glories besides. If you do not believe me, read here in this book. As for the truth of what it says, look: it is all confirmed by the blood of him who made it” (Heb 13:20-21; 9:17-21).

“Well, neighbor Obstinate,” said Pliable, “I am coming to a decision. I intend to go with this good man and share his lot. But, my good companion, do you know the way to this place we want to reach?”

“A man named Evangelist has directed me to hurry to a little gate ahead of us,” Christian answered. “There we will receive instructions about the way.”

“Come, then, good neighbor. Let us go.”

So the two went on together.

“And I will go back to my own place,” Obstinate said. “I will not keep company with such deluded dreamers.”

Now I saw in my dream that after Obstinate had gone back, Christian and Pliable walked across the plain, talking together. This is how their conversation began.

“Come, neighbor Pliable, how are you?” Christian asked. “I am glad you have been persuaded to come with me. If even Obstinate himself had felt what I have felt of the power and terror of things we cannot yet see, he would not have turned his back on us so lightly.”

“Come, neighbor Christian,” said Pliable, “since there are only the two of us here, tell me more about what awaits us where we are going and how we can enjoy it.”

“I can picture these things in my mind better than I can put them into words,” Christian said. “But since you want to know, I will read about them in my book.”

“And do you think the words in your book are certainly true?”

“Yes, indeed. It was written by him who cannot lie” (Titus 1:2).

“Good. What are these things?”

“There is an endless kingdom for us to live in, and everlasting life to be given to us, so we may inhabit that kingdom forever” (Isa 45:17; John 10:27-29).

“Good. And what else?”

“There are crowns of glory to be given to us, and clothes that will make us shine like the sun in the heavens!” (2 Tim 4:8; Rev 3:4; Matt 13:43).

“That is very pleasant. And what else?”

“There will be no more crying or sorrow. The owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes” (Isa 25:8; Rev 7:16-17; 21:4).

“And who will be there with us?”

“We will be with seraphim and cherubim, creatures so dazzling you can hardly look at them. You will also meet thousands and tens of thousands who have gone there before us. None of them are harmful; all are loving and holy. Every one of them walks in God’s sight and stands in his presence, accepted forever. In short, there we will see the elders with their golden crowns and the holy virgins with their golden harps. We will see people whom the world cut to pieces, burned in flames, fed to beasts, or drowned in the seas because they loved the Lord of that place. All of them will be well, clothed in immortality as in a garment” (Isa 6:2; 1 Thess 4:16-17; Rev 7:17; 4:4; 14:1-5; John 12:25; 2 Cor 5:2-5).

“Hearing this is enough to fill someone’s heart with rapture,” Pliable said. “But can we enjoy these things? How can we have a share in them?”

“The Lord who governs that country has set it down in this book,” Christian replied. “In substance, he says that if we truly want it, he will give it to us freely” (Isa 55:1-2, 12; John 7:37; 6:37; Rev 21:6; 22:17).

“Well, my good companion, I am glad to hear about these things. Come on, let us pick up our pace.”

“I cannot go as fast as I would like,” Christian said, “because of this burden on my back.”

The Slough of Despond

Now I saw in my dream that, just as they finished this conversation, they came near a muddy slough in the middle of the plain. Neither was paying attention, and both suddenly fell into the bog. Its name was Despond. They struggled there for a while, covered in mud, and Christian began to sink because of the burden on his back.

“Ah, neighbor Christian!” Pliable said. “Where are you now?”

“To tell the truth,” Christian replied, “I don’t know.”

At this, Pliable grew resentful and spoke angrily to his companion. “Is this the happiness you’ve been telling me about all this time? If things go so badly as soon as we set out, what can we expect between here and the end of our journey? If I can get out of this alive, you can have that splendid country all to yourself!”

With a desperate struggle or two, he pulled himself out of the mud on the side nearest his own house. Then he went away, and Christian never saw him again.

Christian was left struggling alone in the Slough of Despond. He kept trying to get farther from his own house, toward the side nearest the wicket gate. He reached that side but could not climb out because of the burden on his back. Then I saw in my dream that a man named Help came to him and asked what he was doing there.

“Sir,” Christian said, “a man called Evangelist told me to go this way. He also directed me to that gate over there so that I could escape the wrath to come. As I was going toward it, I fell in here.”

“But why didn’t you look for the steps?” Help asked.

“Fear was chasing me so hard that I ran by the most direct route and fell in,” Christian answered.

“Give me your hand,” Help said. Christian gave him his hand, and Help pulled him out, set him on solid ground, and told him to continue on his way (Ps 40:2).

Then I went up to the man who had pulled him out. “Sir,” I said, “the road from the City of Destruction to that gate passes through this place. Why hasn’t this patch of ground been repaired so that poor travelers can cross it more safely?”

“This muddy slough cannot be repaired,” he told me. “It is the low place where all the scum and filth that come with conviction of sin continually drain. That is why it is called the Slough of Despond. Whenever a sinner awakens to his lost condition, many fears, doubts, and discouraging thoughts arise in his soul. They all gather and settle here. That is what makes this ground so bad.

“The King does not wish this place to remain so bad (Isa 35:3-4). Under the direction of His Majesty’s surveyors, his laborers have worked on this patch of ground for more than sixteen hundred years, hoping it might be repaired. To my knowledge, at least twenty thousand cartloads have been swallowed up here. Yes, millions of wholesome instructions have been brought here in every season from every part of the King’s dominions. Those who understand such things say these are the best materials for making this place into solid ground, if it could be repaired at all. But it is still the Slough of Despond, and it will remain so when they have done everything they can.

“It is true that, at the Lawgiver’s direction, good, solid steps have been laid through the very middle of this slough. But when the place spews out great quantities of filth, as it does when the weather is about to change, those steps can hardly be seen. Even when people can see them, their heads are so dizzy that they step beside them and get thoroughly bogged down, despite the steps being there. But once they have entered the gate, the ground is good” (1 Sam 12:23).

Now I saw in my dream that Pliable had reached his house again. His neighbors came to visit him. Some called him wise for returning; others called him a fool for risking himself with Christian. Still others mocked his cowardice. “Surely,” they said, “once you had started the venture, I wouldn’t have been so low as to give up over a few difficulties.”

Pliable sat among them, ashamed and trying to keep out of notice. At last he grew more confident. Then they all changed their tune and began to ridicule poor Christian behind his back. And that is all concerning Pliable.

Worldly-Wiseman’s Advice

As Christian walked alone, he saw someone in the distance crossing the field to meet him. They happened to meet where their paths crossed. The gentleman’s name was Mr. Worldly-wiseman. He lived in Carnal Policy, a very large town near the place Christian had come from.

Worldly-wiseman had heard something about Christian. News of Christian’s departure from the City of Destruction had spread widely, both in his own town and in other places. Seeing how painfully he walked and hearing his sighs and groans, Worldly-wiseman guessed who he was and began a conversation.

“Well, my good fellow, where are you going, weighed down like that?”

“Weighed down, indeed, as much as any poor creature ever was, I think!” Christian replied. “As for where I’m going, sir, I’m heading for the wicket gate ahead of me. I’m told that there I’ll be shown the way to get rid of my heavy burden.”

“Do you have a wife and children?”

“Yes, but this burden weighs on me so heavily that I can’t enjoy them as I used to. I feel as though I had none” (1 Cor 7:29).

“Will you listen if I give you some advice?”

“If it’s good, I will. I need good advice.”

“Then I advise you to get rid of that burden as quickly as you can. Until then, your mind will never be at peace, and you won’t be able to enjoy the blessings God has given you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m seeking: to get rid of this heavy burden. But I can’t remove it myself, and no one in our country can lift it from my shoulders. That’s why I’m going this way, as I told you, so that I may be rid of it.”

“Who told you to go this way to get rid of your burden?”

“A man who seemed to me very great and honorable. His name, if I remember correctly, is Evangelist.”

“A curse on him for that advice!” Worldly-wiseman said. “There isn’t a more dangerous or troublesome road in the world than the one he has sent you along. You’ll find that out if you let his advice guide you. I can see you’ve already had some trouble, for the mud of the Slough of Despond is still on you. But that slough is only the beginning of the sorrows waiting for those who continue along that road.

“Listen to me. I’m older than you. On the road you’re taking, you’re likely to meet exhaustion, pain, hunger, dangers, nakedness, the sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, and who knows what else! These things are certainly true; many witnesses have confirmed them. Why should a man throw his life away so carelessly by listening to a stranger?”

“Sir,” Christian answered, “this burden on my back terrifies me more than all the things you’ve named. In fact, I don’t think I care what I meet along the way, as long as I also find deliverance from my burden.”

“How did you first come to have this burden?”

“By reading this book in my hand.”

“I thought so. The same thing has happened to you as to other weak men. They meddle with things beyond their understanding and suddenly fall into the distress you’re suffering. Such distress not only breaks men down, as I see yours has done to you, but sends them on desperate ventures without even knowing what they hope to obtain.”

“I know what I want to obtain,” Christian said. “Relief from my heavy burden.”

“But why seek relief along this road, with so many dangers waiting for you? If you would only be patient and hear me out, I could show you how to get what you want without running into those dangers. The remedy is close at hand. Besides, instead of those dangers, you’ll find great safety, friendship, and contentment.”

“Please, sir, explain this secret to me.”

“In that village over there, which is called Morality, lives a gentleman named Legality. He is a very sensible man with an excellent reputation, and he knows how to lift burdens like yours from people’s shoulders. To my knowledge, he has done a great deal of good in this way. He also knows how to cure those whose burdens have somewhat unsettled their minds. You can go to him, as I said, and get help at once.

“His house is less than a mile from here. If he isn’t home himself, he has a fine young son named Civility who can do it, so people say, as well as the old gentleman. There, I tell you, you can be relieved of your burden. If you don’t want to return to your former home, and I certainly wouldn’t advise it, you can send for your wife and children to join you in that village. There are empty houses there now, and you can have one at a reasonable price. Food is good and cheap too. And what will make your life happier still is that you’ll live among honest neighbors, respected and in good standing.”

Christian hesitated for a moment. But soon he concluded, “If what this gentleman says is true, the wisest course is to take his advice.”

“Sir,” he asked, “which way should I go to this honest man’s house?”

“Do you see that hill?”

“Yes, very clearly.”

“You must go by that hill. The first house you come to is his.”

So Christian left his road to seek help at Mr. Legality’s house. But when he came near the hill, it looked so high, and the side next to the road hung so far over him, that he was afraid to go farther. He feared the hill would fall on his head. He stopped there, not knowing what to do. His burden also seemed heavier now than when he had been on the right road. Flashes of fire came out of the hill, making him afraid he would be burned (Exod 19:16, 18). He sweated and shook with fear (Heb 12:21). Now he began to regret taking Mr. Worldly-wiseman’s advice.

Then he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, and blushed with shame at the sight. Evangelist came closer and closer. When he reached Christian, he looked at him with a stern, frightening expression and began to reason with him.

“What are you doing here, Christian?”

Christian did not know how to answer and stood speechless before him.

“Aren’t you the man I found crying outside the walls of the City of Destruction?” Evangelist continued.

“Yes, dear sir, I am.”

“Didn’t I show you the way to the little wicket gate?”

“Yes, dear sir,” Christian said.

“How, then, have you turned aside so quickly? You are off the road now.”

“As soon as I had crossed the Slough of Despond, I met a gentleman. He persuaded me that I could find a man in the village ahead who could take off my burden.”

“What sort of man was he?”

“He looked like a gentleman. He talked to me at length and finally persuaded me to give in, so I came here. But when I saw this hill and how it hangs over the road, I stopped suddenly, afraid it would fall on my head.”

“What did that gentleman say to you?”

“He asked where I was going, and I told him.”

“And what did he say then?”

“He asked whether I had a family, and I told him. ‘But,’ I said, ‘the burden on my back is so heavy that I can’t enjoy them as I used to.’”

“And what did he say then?”

“He told me to get rid of my burden quickly. I told him relief was what I was seeking, and that I was going to that gate to learn how to reach the place of deliverance. Then he said he would show me a better, shorter road, with fewer difficulties than the one you had put me on, sir. He said it would take me to a gentleman’s house, where a man knew how to remove these burdens. So I believed him and left that road for this one, hoping I might soon be relieved of my burden. But when I reached this place and saw things as they are, I stopped, afraid of the danger, as I said. Now I don’t know what to do.”

“Then stand still for a little while,” Evangelist said, “so that I can show you the words of God.”

Christian stood trembling. Then Evangelist said, “See that ye refuse not him that speaketh. For if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven” (Heb 12:25).

He added, “Now the just shall live by faith: but if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him” (Heb 10:38).

Then he applied these words to Christian. “You are the man rushing into this misery. You have begun to reject the counsel of the Most High and turn your feet back from the way of peace. You have almost put yourself in danger of destruction.”

Christian fell at his feet as though dead, crying, “Woe is me, for I am undone!”

At this, Evangelist took him by the right hand, saying, “All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men” (Matt 12:31; Mark 3:28). “Be not faithless, but believing” (John 20:27).

Christian revived a little and stood up, trembling before Evangelist as he had at first.

Evangelist continued, “Pay closer attention to what I am about to tell you. I will show you who deceived you, and who the man is that he sent you to.

“The man you met is Worldly-wiseman, and he is rightly named. Partly this is because he cares only for the teaching of this world (1 John 4:5), which is why he always goes to church in the town of Morality. Partly it is because he likes that teaching best, since it best protects him from the cross (Gal 6:12). Because he has this fleshly disposition, he tries to obstruct the paths I show, even though they are right.”

“Now there are three things in this man’s advice that you must utterly detest:

“1. His turning you off the road.

“2. His efforts to make you hate the cross.

“3. His setting your feet on the road that leads to the administration of death.

“First, you must detest his turning you off the road, and your own consent to it. This means rejecting God’s counsel for the counsel of a Worldly-wiseman. The Lord says, ‘Strive to enter in at the strait gate’ (Luke 13:24), the gate I sent you to. For ‘strait is the gate which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it’ (Matt 7:14). This wicked man turned you away from that little wicket gate and the road to it, bringing you almost to destruction. Hate his turning you off the road, then, and detest yourself for listening to him.

“Second, you must detest his efforts to make you hate the cross, for you are to prefer it ‘before the treasures in Egypt’ (Heb 11:25-26). Besides, the King of glory has told you that whoever ‘will save his life shall lose it’ (Mark 8:35; John 12:25; Matt 10:39). And, ‘He that comes after him, 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’ (Luke 14:26). I tell you, therefore, that you must detest the teaching of anyone who tries to persuade you that something will be your death when the Truth has said that without it you cannot have eternal life.