One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that now poor Christian was so
confounded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it. Just
when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked
ones got behind him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested
many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from
his own mind. This put Christian more to it than any thing that he met with
before, even to think that he should now blaspheme Him that he loved so much
before. Yet if he could have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had
not the discretion either to stop his ears, or to know from whence these blasphemies
came.
When Christian
had travelled in this disconsolate condition some considerable time, he thought
he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, Though I walk through
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.
Then was he glad,
and that for these reasons:
First, Because he
gathered from thence, that some who feared God were in this valley as well as
himself.
Secondly, For
that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark and dismal state. And
why not, thought he, with me? though by reason of the impediment that attends
this place, I cannot perceive it.
Thirdly, For that
he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by and by.
So he went on,
and called to him that was before; but he knew not what to answer, for that he
also thought himself to be alone. And by and by the day broke: then said
Christian, “He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning.”
Now morning being
come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see, by the light of
the day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw more perfectly
the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other; also
how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both. Also now he saw the
hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after
break of day they came not nigh; yet they were discovered to him, according to
that which is written, “He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and
bringeth out to light the shadow of death.”
Now was Christian
much affected with this deliverance from all the dangers of his solitary way;
which dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he saw them more clearly
now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. And about this
time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian; for you must
note, that though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was
dangerous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far
more dangerous; for, from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the
valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets
here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings-down there, that
had it now been dark, as it was when he came the first part of the way, had he
had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away; but, as I said, just
now the sun was rising. Then said he, “His Candle shineth on my head, and by
his light I go through darkness.”
In this light,
therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the
end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of
pilgrims that had gone this way formerly; and while I was musing what should be
the reason, I espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, Pope and
Pagan, dwelt in old times; by whose power and tyranny the men whose bones,
blood, ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put to death. But by this place
Christian went without much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; but I have
learnt since, that Pagan has been dead many a day; and as for the other, though
he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the many shrewd brushes
that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints
that he can now do little more than sit in his cave’s mouth, grinning at
pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come at them.
So I saw that
Christian went on his way; yet, at the sight of the old man that sat at the
mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think, especially because he spoke
to him, though he could not go after him, saying, You will never mend, till
more of you be burned. But he held his peace, and set a good face on it; and so
went by, and catched no hurt. Then sang Christian,
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“O world of wonders, (I can say no less,)
That I should be preserved in that distress
That I have met with here! O blessed be
That hand that from it hath delivered me!
Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin,
Did compass me, while I this vale was in;
Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie
My path about, that worthless, silly I
Might have been catch’d, entangled, and cast down;
But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown.”
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