THE FIFTH STAGE
NOW, as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent,
which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before
them: up there, therefore, Christian went; and looking forward,
he saw Faithful before him upon his journey: Then said Christian
aloud, Ho, ho; so-ho; stay, and I will be your companion. At
that Faithful looked behind him; to whom Christian cried again,
Stay, stay, till I come up to you. But Faithful answered, No, I
am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me.
At this Christian was somewhat moved,
and putting to all his strength, he quickly got up with
Faithful, and did also overrun him; so the last was first. Then
did Christian vaingloriously smile, because he had gotten the
start of his brother; but not taking good heed to his feet, he
suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again until
Faithful came up to help him.
Then I saw in my dream, they went very
lovingly on together, [73] and had sweet discourse of all things
that had happened to them in their pilgrimage; and thus
Christian began.
CHRISTIAN: My honored and well-beloved
brother Faithful, I am glad that I have overtaken you, and that
God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions
in this so pleasant a path.
FAITHFUL: I had thought, my dear
friend, to have had your company quite from our town, but you
did get the start of me; wherefore I was forced to come thus
much of the way alone.
CHRISTIAN: How long did you stay in the
city of Destruction before you set out after me on your
pilgrimage?
FAITHFUL: Till I could stay no longer;
for there was a great talk presently after you were gone out,
that our city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven, be
burnt down to the ground.
CHRISTIAN: What, did your neighbors
talk so?
FAITHFUL: Yes, it was for a while in
every body's mouth.
CHRISTIAN: What, and did no more of
them but you come out to escape the danger?
FAITHFUL: Though there was, as I said,
a great talk thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly
believe it; for, in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of
them deridingly speak of you and of your desperate journey, for
so they called this your pilgrimage. But I did believe, and do
still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone
from above; and therefore I have made my escape.
CHRISTIAN: Did you hear no talk of
neighbor Pliable?
FAITHFUL: Yes, Christian, I heard that
he followed you till he came to the Slough of Despond, where, as
some said, he fell in; but he would not be known to have so
done: but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of
dirt.
CHRISTIAN: And what said the neighbors
to him?
FAITHFUL: He hath, since his going
back, been had greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of
people: some do mock and despise him, and scarce will any set
him on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had never
gone out of the city.
CHRISTIAN: But why should they be so
set against him, since they also despise the way that he
forsook?
FAITHFUL: O, they say, Hang him; he is
a turncoat; he was not [74] true to his profession! I think God
has stirred up even His enemies to hiss at him, and make him a
proverb, because he hath forsaken the way.
CHRISTIAN: Had you no talk with him
before you came out?
FAITHFUL: I met him once in the
streets, but he leered away on the other side, as one ashamed of
what he had done; So I spake not to him.
CHRISTIAN: Well, at my first setting
out I had hopes of that man; but now I fear he will perish in
the overthrow of the city. For it has happened to him according
to the true proverb, The dog is turned to his vomit again, and
the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.
FAITHFUL: These are my fears of him
too; but who can hinder that which will be?
CHRISTIAN: Well, neighbor Faithful,
said Christian, let us leave him, and talk of things that more
immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met
with in the way as you came; for I know you have met with some
things, or else it may be writ for a wonder.
FAITHFUL: I escaped the slough that I
perceive you fell into, and got [75] up to the gate without that
danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton, that had like
to have done me mischief.
CHRISTIAN: It was well you escaped her
net: Joseph was hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as you
did; but it had like to have cost him his life. But what did she
do to you?
FAITHFUL: You cannot think (but that
you know something) what a flattering tongue she had; she lay at
me hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of
content.
CHRISTIAN: Nay, she did not promise you
the content of a good conscience.
FAITHFUL: You know what I mean; all
carnal and fleshly content.
CHRISTIAN: Thank God that you escaped
her: the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into her pit.
FAITHFUL: Nay, I know not whether I did
wholly escape her or no.
CHRISTIAN: Why, I trow you did not
consent to her desires?
FAITHFUL: No, not to defile myself; for
I remembered an old writing that I had seen, which said, "Her
steps take hold on Hell." So I shut mine eyes, because I would
not be bewitched with her looks. Then she railed on me, and I
went my way.
CHRISTIAN: Did you meet with no other
assault as you came?
FAITHFUL: When I came to the foot of
the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who
asked me what I was, and whither bound. I told him that I was a
pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man,
Thou lookest like an honest fellow; wilt thou be content to
dwell with me for the wages that I shall give thee? Then I asked
his name, and where he dwelt? He said his name was Adam the
First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit. I asked him then
what was his work, and what the wages that he would give. He
told me that his work was many delights; and his wages, that I
should be his heir at last. I further asked him, what house he
kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that his
house was maintained with all the dainties of the world, and
that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then I asked
how many children he had. He said that he had but three
daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the
Pride of Life, and that I should marry them if I would. Then I
asked, how long time he would have me live with him; And he told
me, as long as he lived himself.
CHRISTIAN: Well, and what conclusion
came the old man and you to at last?
[76] FAITHFUL: Why, at first I found
myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he
spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with
him, I saw there written, "Put off the old man with his deeds."
CHRISTIAN: And how then?
FAITHFUL: Then it came burning hot into
my mind, that, whatever he said, and however he flattered, when
he got me home to his house he would sell me for a slave. So I
bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door of
his house. Then he reviled me, and told me that he would send
such a one after me that should make my way bitter to my soul.
So I turned to go away from him; but just as I turned myself to
go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a
deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me
after himself: this made me cry, "O wretched man." So I went on
my way up the hill.
Now, when I had got above half-way up,
I looked behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the
wind; so he overtook me just about the place where the settle
stands.
CHRISTIAN: Just there, said Christian,
did I sit down to rest me; but being overcome with sleep, I
there lost this roll out of my bosom.
FAITHFUL: But, good brother, hear me
out. So soon as the man overtook me, it was but a word and a
blow; for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I
was a little come to myself again I asked him wherefore he
served me so. He said because of my secret inclining to Adam the
First. And with that he struck me another deadly blow on the
breast, and beat me down backward; so I lay at his foot as dead
as before. So when I came to myself again I cried him mercy: but
he said, I know not how to show mercy; and with that he knocked
me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one
came by and bid him forbear.
CHRISTIAN: Who was that that bid him
forbear?
FAITHFUL: I did not know him at first:
but as he went by, I perceived the holes in his hands and in his
side: Then I concluded that he was our Lord. So I went up the
hill.
CHRISTIAN: That man that overtook you
was Moses. He spareth none; neither knoweth he how to shew mercy
to those that transgress the law.
THAT MAN THAT
OVERTOOK YOU WAS MOSES. HE SPARETH NONE; NEITHER KNOWETH HE HOW
TO SHEW MERCY TO THOSE THAT TRANSGRESS THE LAW.
[77] FAITHFUL: I know it very well; it
was not the first time that he has met with me. 'Twas he that
came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he
would burn my house over my head if I stayed there.
CHRISTIAN: But did you not see the
house that stood there on the top of the hill, on the side of
which Moses met you?
FAITHFUL: Yes, and the lions too,
before I came at it. But, for the lions, I think they were
asleep, for it was about noon; and because I had so much of the
day before me, I passed by the Porter, and came down the hill.
CHRISTIAN: He told me, indeed, that he
saw you go by; but I wish you had called at the house, for they
would have showed you so many rarities that you would scarce
have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, Did
you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility?
FAITHFUL: Yes, I met with one
Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me to go back
again with him: his reason was, for that [78] the valley was
altogether without honor. He told me, moreover, that to go there
was the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy,
Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory, with others, who he knew, as he
said, would be very much offended if I made such a fool of
myself as to wade through this valley.
CHRISTIAN: Well, and how did you answer
him?
FAITHFUL: I told him, that although all
these that he named, might claim a kindred of me, and that
rightly, (for indeed they were my relations according to the
flesh,) yet since I became a pilgrim they have disowned me, and
I also have rejected them; and therefore they were to me now no
more than if they had never been of my lineage. I told him,
moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented
the thing; for before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit
before a fall. Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this
valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest, than
choose that which he esteemed most worthy of our affections.
CHRISTIAN: Met you with nothing else in
that valley?
FAITHFUL: Yes, I met with Shame; but of
all the men that I met with on my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears
the wrong name. The other would be said nay, after a little
argumentation, and somewhat else; but this bold-faced Shame
would never have done.
CHRISTIAN: Why, what did he say to you?
FAITHFUL: What? why, he objected
against religion itself. He said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking
business for a man to mind religion. He said, that a tender
conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch
over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that
hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustomed
themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He
objected also, that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise, were
ever of my opinion; nor any of them neither, before they were
persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to
venture the loss of all for nobody knows what. He, moreover,
objected the base and low estate and condition of those that
were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived; also
their ignorance and want of understanding in all natural
science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also, about a
great many more things than here I relate; as, that it was a
shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to
come [80] sighing and groaning home; that it was a shame to ask
my neighbor forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution
where I have taken from any. He said also, that religion made a
man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices, which he
called by finer names, and made him own and respect the base,
because of the same religious fraternity: And is not this, said
he, a shame?
CHRISTIAN: And what did you say to him?
FAITHFUL: Say? I could not tell what to
say at first. Yea, he put me so to it, that my blood came up in
my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me
quite off. But at last I began to consider, that that which is
highly esteemed among men, is had in abomination with God. And I
thought again, this Shame tells me what men are; but he tells me
nothing what God, or the word of God is. And I thought,
moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to
death or life according to the hectoring spirits of the world,
but according to the wisdom and law of the Highest. Therefore,
thought I, what God says is best, is indeed best, though all the
men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers
his religion; seeing God prefers a tender Conscience; seeing
they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of heaven are
wisest, and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than
the greatest man in the world that hates him; Shame, depart,
thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall I entertain thee
against my sovereign Lord? How then shall I look him in the face
at his coming? Should I now be ashamed of his ways and servants,
how can I expect the blessing? But indeed this Shame was a bold
villain; I could scarcely shake him out of my company; yea, he
would be haunting of me, and continually whispering me in the
ear, with some one or other of the infirmities that attend
religion. But at last I told him, that it was but in vain to
attempt farther in this business; for those things that he
disdained, in those did I see most glory: and so at last I got
past this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off, then I
began to sing,
"The trials that those men do meet
withal,
That are obedient to the heavenly call,
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,
And come, and come, and come again
afresh;
[81]
That now, or some time else, we by them
may
Be taken, overcome, and cast away.
O let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims
then,
Be vigilant, and quit themselves like
men."
CHRISTIAN: I am glad, my brother, that
thou didst withstand this villain so bravely; for of all, as
thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for he is so bold as
to follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put us to shame
before all men; that is, to make us ashamed of that which is
good. But if he was not himself audacious, he would never
attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him; for,
notwithstanding all his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and
none else. "The wise shall inherit glory," said Solomon; "but
shame shall be the promotion of fools." Prov. 3:35.
FAITHFUL: I think we must cry to Him
for help against Shame, that would have us to be valiant for
truth upon the earth.
CHRISTIAN: You say true; but did you
meet nobody else in that valley?
FAITHFUL: No, not I; for I had sunshine
all the rest of the way through that, and also through the
Valley of the Shadow of Death.
CHRISTIAN: 'Twas well for you; I am
sure it fared far otherwise with me. I had for a long season, as
soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat
with that foul fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he would
have killed me, especially when he got me down, and crushed me
under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces; for as he
threw me, my sword flew out of my hand: nay, he told me he was
sure of me; but I cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered
me out of all my troubles. Then I entered into the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half the way
through it. I thought I should have been killed there over and
over; but at last day brake, and the sun rose, and I went
through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet.
Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as
they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a
man whose name was Talkative, walking at a distance beside them;
for in this place there was room enough for them all to walk. He
was a tall man, and something more comely at a distance than at
hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner.
[82] FAITHFUL: Friend, whither away?
Are you going to the heavenly country?
TALKATIVE: I am going to the same
place.
FAITHFUL: That is well; then I hope we
shall have your good company?
TALKATIVE: With a very good will, will
I be your companion.
FAITHFUL: Come on, then, and let us go
together, and let us spend our time in discoursing of things
that are profitable.
TALKATIVE: To talk of things that are
good, to me is very acceptable, with you or with any other; and
I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a
work; for, to speak the truth, there are but few who care thus
to spend their time as they are in their travels, but choose
much rather to be speaking of things to no profit; and this hath
been a trouble to me.
FAITHFUL: That is, indeed, a thing to
be lamented; for what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue
and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of
heaven?
TALKATIVE: I like you wonderful well,
for your saying is full of conviction; and I will add, What
thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the
things of God? What things so pleasant? that is, if a man hath
any delight in things that are wonderful. For instance, if a man
doth delight to talk of the history, or the mystery of things;
or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs,
where shall he find things recorded so delightful, and so
sweetly penned, as in the holy Scripture?
FAITHFUL: That is true; but to be
profited by such things in our talk, should be our chief design.
TALKATIVE: That's it that I said; for
to talk of such things is most profitable; for by so doing a man
may get knowledge of many things; as of the vanity of earthly
things, and the benefit of things above. Thus in general; but
more particularly, by this a man may learn the necessity of the
new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's
righteousness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is
to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like: by this,
also, a man may learn what are the great promises and
consolations of the Gospel, to his own comfort. Farther, by this
a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the
truth, and also to instruct the ignorant.
[83] FAITHFUL: All this is true; and
glad am I to hear these things from you.
TALKATIVE: Alas! the want of this is
the cause that so few understand the need of faith, and the
necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal
life; but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which a
man can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven.
FAITHFUL: But, by your leave, heavenly
knowledge of these is the gift of God; no man attaineth to them
by human industry, or only by the talk of them.
TALKATIVE: All this I know very well;
for a man can receive nothing, except it be given him from
heaven: all is of grace, not of works. I could give you a
hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this.
FAITHFUL: Well, then, said Faithful,
what is that one thing that we shall at this time found our
discourse upon?
TALKATIVE: What you will. I will talk
of things heavenly, or things earthly; things moral, or things
evangelical; things sacred, or things profane; things past, or
things to come; things foreign, or things at home; things more
essential, or things circumstantial: provided that all be done
to our profit.
FAITHFUL: Now did Faithful begin to
wonder; and stepping to Christian, (for he walked all this while
by himself,) he said to him, but softly, What a brave companion
have we got! Surely, this man will make a very excellent
pilgrim.
CHRISTIAN: At this Christian modestly
smiled, and said, This man, with whom you are so taken, will
beguile with this tongue of his, twenty of them that know him
not.
FAITHFUL: Do you know him, then?
CHRISTIAN: Know him? Yes, better than
he knows himself.
FAITHFUL: Pray what is he?
CHRISTIAN: His name is Talkative: he
dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you should be a stranger to
him, only I consider that our town is large.
FAITHFUL: Whose son is he? And
whereabout doth he dwell?
CHRISTIAN: He is the son of one
Say-well. He dwelt in Prating-Row; and he is known to all that
are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating-Row;
and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow.
FAITHFUL: Well, he seems to be a very
pretty man.
[85] CHRISTIAN: That is, to them that
have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he is best
abroad; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a
pretty man, brings to my mind what I have observed in the work
of a painter, whose pictures show best at a distance; but very
near, more unpleasing.
FAITHFUL: But I am ready to think you
do but jest, because you smiled.
CHRISTIAN: God forbid that I should
jest (though I smiled) in this matter, or that I should accuse
any falsely. I will give you a further discovery of him. This
man is for any company, and for any talk; as he talketh now with
you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench; and the more
drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in
his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or
conversation; all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion
is to make a noise therewith.
THIS MAN IS FOR ANY COMPANY, AND
FOR ANY TALK; AS HE TALKETH NOW WITH YOU, SO WILL HE TALK WHEN
HE IS ON THE ALE-BENCH; AND THE MORE DRINK HE HATH IN HIS CROWN,
THE MORE OF THESE THINGS HE HATH IN HIS MOUTH.
FAITHFUL: Say you so? Then am I in this
man greatly deceived.
CHRISTIAN: Deceived! you may be sure of
it. Remember the proverb, "They say, and do not;" but the
kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. He talketh of
prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but he
knows but only to talk of them. I have been in his family, and
have observed him both at home and abroad; and I know what I say
of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the
white of an egg is of savor. There is there neither prayer, nor
sign of repentance for sin; yea, the brute, in his kind, serves
God far better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and
shame of religion to all that know him, it can hardly have a
good word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through
him. Thus say the common people that know him, "A saint abroad,
and a devil at home." His poor family finds it so; he is such a
churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants,
that they neither know how to do for or speak to him. Men that
have any dealings with him say, It is better to deal with a Turk
than with him, for fairer dealings they shall have at their
hands. This Talkative (if it be possible) will go beyond them,
defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his
sons to follow his steps; and if he finds in any of them a
foolish timorousness, (for so he calls the first appearance of a
tender conscience,) he calls them fools [86] and blockheads, and
by no means will employ them in much, or speak to their
commendation before others. For my part, I am of opinion that he
has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and fall; and
will be, if God prevents not, the ruin of many more.
"A SAINT ABROAD, AND A DEVIL AT
HOME." HIS POOR FAMILY FINDS IT SO; HE IS SUCH A CHURL, SUCH A
RAILER AT, AND SO UNREASONABLE WITH HIS SERVANTS, THAT THEY
NEITHER KNOW HOW TO DO FOR OR SPEAK TO HIM.
FAITHFUL: Well, my brother, I am bound
to believe you, not only because you say you know him, but also
because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. For I
cannot think that you speak these things of ill-will, but
because it is even so as you say.
CHRISTIAN: Had I known him no more than
you, I might, perhaps, have thought of him as at the first you
did; yea, had I received this report at their hands only that
are enemies to religion, I should have thought it had been a
slander-a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon good
men's names and professions. But all these things, yea, and a
great many more as bad, of my own knowledge, I can prove him
guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him; they can
neither call him brother nor friend; the very naming of him
among them makes them blush, if they know him.
FAITHFUL: Well, I see that saying and
doing are two things, and hereafter I shall better observe this
distinction.
CHRISTIAN: They are two things indeed,
and are as diverse as are the soul and the body; for, as the
body without the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying, if it be
alone, is but a dead carcass also. The soul of religion is the
practical part. "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the
Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their
affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." This,
Talkative is not aware of; he thinks that hearing and saying
will make a good Christian; and thus he deceiveth his own soul.
Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed; talking is not
sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life.
And let us assure ourselves, that at the day of doom men shall
be judged according to their fruits. It will not be said then,
Did you believe? but, Were you doers, or talkers only? and
accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is
compared to our harvest, and you know men at harvest regard
nothing but fruit. Not that any thing can be accepted that is
not of faith; but I speak this to show you how insignificant the
profession of Talkative will be at that day.
[88] FAITHFUL: This brings to my mind
that of Moses, by which he describeth the beast that is clean.
He is such an one that parteth the hoof, and cheweth the cud;
not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only.
The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth
not the hoof. And this truly resembleth Talkative: he cheweth
the cud, he seeketh knowledge; he cheweth upon the word, but he
divideth not the hoof. He parteth not with the way of sinners;
but, as the hare, he retaineth the foot of the dog or bear, and
therefore he is unclean.
CHRISTIAN: You have spoken, for aught I
know, the true gospel sense of these texts. And I will add
another thing: Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great
talkers too, sounding brass, and tinkling cymbals, that is, as
he expounds them in another place, things without life giving
sound. Things without life; that is, without the true faith and
grace of the gospel; and consequently, things that shall never
be placed in the kingdom of heaven among those that are the
children of life; though their sound, by their talk, be as if it
were the tongue or voice of an angel.
FAITHFUL: Well, I was not so fond of
his company at first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we
do to be rid of him?
CHRISTIAN: Take my advice, and do as I
bid you, and you shall find that he will soon be sick of your
company too, except God shall touch his heart, and turn it.
FAITHFUL: What would you have me to do?
CHRISTIAN: Why, go to him, and enter
into some serious discourse about the power of religion; and ask
him plainly, (when he has approved of it, for that he will,)
whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or
conversation.
FAITHFUL: Then Faithful stepped forward
again, and said to Talkative, Come, what cheer? How is it now?
TALKATIVE: Thank you, well: I thought
we should have had a great deal of talk by this time.
FAITHFUL: Well, if you will, we will
fall to it now; and since you left it with me to state the
question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace of God
discover itself when it is in the heart of man?
TALKATIVE: I perceive, then, that our
talk must be about the power of [89] things. Well, it is a very
good question, and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my
answer in brief, thus: First, where the grace of God is in the
heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin. Secondly—
FAITHFUL: Nay, hold; let us consider of
one at once. I think you should rather say, it shows itself by
inclining the soul to abhor its sin.
TALKATIVE: Why, what difference is
there between crying out against, and abhorring of sin?
FAITHFUL: Oh! a great deal. A man may
cry out against sin, of policy; but he cannot abhor it but by
virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard many cry
out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough
in the heart, house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress cried
out with a loud voice, as if she had been very holy; but she
would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed
uncleanness with him. Some cry out against sin, even as the
mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she calleth
it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing
it.
TALKATIVE: You lie at the catch, I
perceive.
FAITHFUL: No, not I; I am only for
setting things right. But what is the second thing whereby you
would prove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart?
TALKATIVE: Great knowledge of gospel
mysteries.
FAITHFUL: This sign should have been
first: but, first or last, it is also false; for knowledge,
great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel,
and yet no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all
knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no
child of God. When Christ said, "Do you know all these things?"
and the disciples answered, Yes, he added, "Blessed are ye if ye
do them." He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them,
but in the doing of them. For there is a knowledge that is not
attended with doing: "He that knoweth his Master's will, and
doeth it not." A man may know like an angel, and yet be no
Christian: therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to
know is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters; but to do is
that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can be good without
knowledge, for without that the heart is naught. There are,
therefore, two sorts of knowledge, knowledge that resteth [90]
in the bare speculation of things, and knowledge that is
accompanied with the grace of faith and love, which puts a man
upon doing even the will of God from the heart: the first of
these will serve the talker; but without the other, the true
Christian is not content. "Give me understanding, and I shall
keep thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart."
TALKATIVE: You lie at the catch again:
this is not for edification.
FAITHFUL: Well, if you please, propound
another sign how this work of grace discovereth itself where it
is.
TALKATIVE: Not I, for I see we shall
not agree.
FAITHFUL: Well, if you will not, will
you give me leave to do it?
TALKATIVE: You may use your liberty.
FAITHFUL: A work of grace in the soul
discovereth itself, either to him that hath it, or to
standers-by.
To him that hath it, thus: It gives him
conviction of sin, especially the defilement of his nature, and
the sin of unbelief, for the sake of which he is sure to be
damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's hand, by faith in Jesus
Christ. This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and
shame for sin. He findeth, moreover, revealed in him the Saviour
of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing with him for
life; at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after
him; to which hungerings, etc., the promise is made. Now,
according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his
Saviour, so is his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so
are his desires to know him more, and also to serve him in this
world. But though, I say, it discovereth itself thus unto him,
yet it is but seldom that he is able to conclude that this is a
work of grace; because his corruptions now, and his abused
reason, make his mind to misjudge in this matter: therefore in
him that hath this work there is required a very sound judgment,
before he can with steadiness conclude that this is a work of
grace.
To others it is thus discovered:
1. By an experimental confession of his
faith in Christ. 2. By a life answerable to that confession; to
wit, a life of holiness-heart-holiness, family-holiness, (if he
hath a family,) and by conversation-holiness in the world; which
in the general teacheth him inwardly to abhor his sin, and
himself for that, in secret; to suppress it in his [91] family,
and to promote holiness in the world: not by talk only, as a
hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a practical
subjection in faith and love to the power of the word. And now,
sir, as to this brief description of the work of grace, and also
the discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object; if
not, then give me leave to propound to you a second question.
TALKATIVE: Nay, my part is not now to
object, but to hear; let me, therefore, have your second
question.
FAITHFUL: It is this: Do you experience
this first part of the description of it; and doth your life and
conversation testify the same? Or standeth your religion in word
or tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, if you incline to
answer me in this, say no more than you know the God above will
say Amen to, and also nothing but what your conscience can
justify you in; for not he that commendeth himself is approved,
but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say I am thus and
thus, when my conversation, and all my neighbors, tell me I lie,
is great wickedness.
Then Talkative at first began to blush;
but, recovering himself, thus he replied: You come now to
experience, to conscience, and to God; and to appeal to him for
justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did
not expect; nor am I disposed to give an answer to such
questions, because I count not myself bound thereto, unless you
take upon you to be a catechiser; and though you should so do,
yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But I pray, will you tell
me why you ask me such questions?
FAITHFUL: Because I saw you forward to
talk, and because I knew not that you had aught else but notion.
Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of you that you
are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your
conversation gives this your mouth-profession the lie. They say
you are a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth the
worse for your ungodly conversation; that some have already
stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are in danger of
being destroyed thereby: your religion, and an ale-house, and
covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and vain
company-keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is true
of you which is said of a harlot, to wit, "That she is a shame
to all women:" so are you a shame to all professors.
[92] TALKATIVE: Since you are so ready
to take up reports, and to judge so rashly as you do, I cannot
but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to
be discoursed with; and so adieu.
Then up came Christian, and said to his
brother, I told you how it would happen; your words and his
lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your company than
reform his life. But he is gone, as I said: let him go; the loss
is no man's but his own. He has saved us the trouble of going
from him; for he continuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is,
would have been but a blot in our company: besides, the apostle
says, "From such withdraw thyself."
FAITHFUL: But I am glad we had this
little discourse with him; it may happen that he will think of
it again: however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am
clear of his blood if he perisheth.
CHRISTIAN: You did well to talk so
plainly to him as you did. There is but little of this faithful
dealing with men now-a-days, and that makes religion to stink so
in the nostrils of many as it doth; for they are these talkative
fools, whose religion is only in word, and who are debauched and
vain in their conversation, that (being so much admitted into
the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the world, blemish
Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would
deal with such as you have done; then should they either be made
more conformable to religion, or the company of saints would be
too hot for them. Then did Faithful say,
[93]
"How Talkative at first lifts up his
plumes!
How bravely doth he speak! How he
presumes
To drive down all before him! But so
soon
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like
the moon
That's past the full, into the wane he
goes;
And so will all but he that heart-work
know."
Thus they went on, talking of what they
had seen by the way, and so made that way easy, which would
otherwise no doubt have been tedious to them, for now they went
through a wilderness.
