BEING DEAD, YET LIVETH
His pilgrimage of trial o'er,
He reached the rest which sin can break no more.
“Now, neighbor, we are waiting to hear this dream of thine," said Thomas Marsom. "Friend Smith, thou art just in time to hear this new fancy of Brother Bunyan, and canst keep Dr. Rogers quiet. Ye new prisoners know not what a treat it hath been to hear Bishop Bunyan' s book read.”
The scene was in the old town jail that stood upon Bedford Bridge. It had but just been repaired after lying in ruins, and here for some six months Bunyan was confined over the dark Ouse. Farmer Smith, of Lower Samsell, and his old friend Rogers were also imprisoned with him; and they with others were gathered in the apartment over the gateway, which was also a toll house. Here in 1676, Bunyan was reading to them the book he had begun to write, and which he termed The Pilgrim' s Progress.
He read on to the end of the break at the parting of Christian and Hopeful with the Shepherds on the Delectable Mountains, and then waited for the verdict of his audience.
“Very beautiful," said Rogers; "but it is so strange I never heard anything like it.”
“I feel it will offend some weak brethren," said Smith; "it might be like a Delilah to rob thee of thy strength. Be advised, friend Bunyan, and put it in the fire. 'Tis not like thy solid books that are meat and drink for men.”
“'Tis perhaps too harsh to say that, “said Rogers, "but I cannot counsel its printing. There is naught like it in men's hands, and it may give our young people a taste for foolish reading. Yes, I say, print it not.”
“It may do good, though," interposed William Hawkes, a deacon of Bunyan' s church and son-in-law of John Gifford. "I think a few might be printed just to see how it went.”
“Look here, lend it to me, John. I will take it to my room," said Thomas Marsom. "I will read it quietly by myself, and mayhap shall be able to form a better judgment than among this talking throng.”
By and by he returned, and found the company discussing the tidings that had just reached them. Bunyan's aged father had just passed away, leaving his sons and daughters one shilling each out of his little store. But the messenger who brought the tidings told them to their delight how in his closing days old Thomas Bunyan loved and repeated passages from The Jerusalem Sinner Saved of his gifted son. "I am that sinner; indeed I am, “said he; "yet, blessed be grace, I have found mercy. Would that I had not wasted my time in the follies that yield no peace.
They only make more soot upon the pot! Alack! that it hath been such a sad life with me! Yet am I glad that 'tis not too late. It might well have been; but tell my son John that I, through mercy, have 'Come and welcome to Jesus Christ,' as he often bade me; and the wicked old tinker will meet him in Heaven. “And so he closed his eyes and went to rest.
Marsom could scarcely contain himself to hear the conclusion of the messenger's story, and then, referring to what he had just been reading, exclaimed, "I say, print it! Print it! It is a wonderful book! I am sure it is God-inspired!”
And print it John Bunyan did. Eight years following he wrote the second part.
Shortly after the incident here recorded, Bunyan was released from prison, and re turned to his occupation. The larger part of his time he now spent in preaching and writing books that had a wonderful sale.
In the dark days that preceded the establishment of English liberty at the Revolution, John Bunyan felt with many alarmed at the dangers of the times. He, to provide against the perils of spoilation that had before consumed the fruits of his toils, executed a deed of gift by which all his property was made over to his wife.
But while others suffered, John Bunyan' s prison days were happily over, and he spent the close of his life in preaching and visiting among the Christian people of his charge. One warm evening during the month of July, 1688, he sat with his wife in the little room, termed the study, musing upon the days that were past, and talking by snatches of the persecutions that seemed probable in the near future.
While thus they were occupied, a young man was shown into the little room, who introduced himself as the son of Sir Wm. Beecher, who had been one of John Bunyan's judges. His father had, after serving the King, provoked his anger by refusing the last demand of tyranny; and James II had almost ruined him by the means of Jeffries, who was as delighted as his master to extort money and inflict pain. The old man, broken-hearted by his losses and the ingratitude of the master for whom he had sinned so grievously, retired to Reading with the few relics of his fortune, his estate passing to the supple Dr. Foster, who, after persecuting Dissenters, expressed himself as ready to protect them at the royal bidding, declaring that he wholly submitted himself to the King's pleasure. Old Sir William Beecher had taken sore offense at his only son, who had of late attended the meeting of Bunyan' s congregation, and had acquired a love for the doctrines preached by the tinker. Yet Sir William himself had begun to read The Pilgrim's Progress, and declared himself astonished at the wonderful book, as yet unknown to reading or rich men! "' Tis beautiful," he said; "I shall live to look upon the man that wrote it; and there is naught I would not do at his bidding! I would give him my best ring. How I should love to listen to his speech.”
Now, young Beecher having heard of this saying came to beg Bunyan to journey to Reading to speak with old Sir William, and remove the variance between father and son.
Bunyan at first hesitated. He was not strong. At one time it was feared that he would go into a consumption, and of late had been failing in health; but he did not like to refuse the request that Beecher urged with all his powers.
“I have been there often," said he. "Many a time during the troubles I have gone there disguised as a carter bearing a whip; but in sooth I am not so strong as once I was." Yet, after a pause, he said, "I will do thy bidding. John will attend to thee, Elizabeth; he is getting of years to manage the brazier business, and I will not be gone long.”
“My friend will lend thee a good nag," said Beecher. "Pray God your journey may well speed.”
Accordingly one morning a week later Bunyan started, his traveling bags well filled by the loving care of Elizabeth, who little thought, as she watched his manly figure turn the street corner, that she should never look upon him again until her Pilgrim had gone into the City of God. We never know. Would that some spirit could whisper, "It is the last time!" Yet perhaps it is best as it is. Any time may be the last; and we part with the possibility that it may be never to meet again below!
News traveled slowly in those days, but somewhere in the beginning of September news came to Bedford that on the 31st of August Bunyan' s pains were all ended. He had been well received in Reading, and had the deep joy of returning good for evil, and not only reconciling a father to his son, but of leading a soul from the city of destruction into the narrow way beyond the wicket gate. With a glad heart he returned through the forty miles of weary road between Reading and London. The heavy rain all the way drenched him, and weary and sick he alighted at the four-storied house on Snow Hill, London, where, under the sign of the Star, John Strudwick obtained his livelihood as a grocer. It was now near the middle of the month, and after a few days' rest the tinker preached his last sermon from John 13:11Now before the feast of the passover, when Jesus knew that his hour was come that he should depart out of this world unto the Father, having loved his own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end. (John 13:1).
“Dost thou," said he, "see a soul that has the image of God in him? Love him, love him; say, this man and I must go to Heaven some day. Serve one another; do good for one another. If any wrong you, pray to God to right you, and love the brotherhood." With this beautiful sentence he closed his earthly ministry: "Consider that the holy God is your Father, and let this oblige you to live like the children of God, that ye may look your Father in the face with comfort another day." And so he finished the testimony God gave to him for men.
Meanwhile he was passing through the press his last book upon The Acceptable Sacrifice, showing the excellency of a broken heart and a contrite spirit.
Then the fever that had hold of him increased, and on Friday, 31st August, 1688, he passed away.
“I long for nothing so much as to be dissolved," he said, "and be with Christ. I am content to depart when He shall call me. I have long borne a crucified heart, and by grace I shall enter into rest. Stay me not, for I am bidden into the presence of the King! Weep not, for though I pass away the Lord abides with you and never faileth! Say to my flock that they cleave to the Lord and His truth, and strive to copy the example set before us in the Gospel. God give unto them and all the spirit of His Son, and bring them into rest.”
And so died John Bunyan, yet his name still liveth, and will live as long as the English language is learned and spoken, yea, longer than that, for as long as the story of the love of Christ continues to melt and move the hearts of men, so long will the story of Christian's progress from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City continue to be read by rich and poor, learned and unlearned, yea by everyone who seeketh after "that world which is to come.”
When the Sabbath following the Friday of his decease tidings came to Bedford, it seemed as if each family had lost its head. He had so grown into the love of many that once persecuted him; and many others who differed from him had learned to love and esteem him for his earnest fidelity and his broad and loving spirit.
None felt the blow more keenly than his ancient friend, John Rogers, who loved, when brighter days came to England, to recount the story of the dreamer' s boyhood, and of his no less marvelous manhood. Yet it seemed as if the new generation, much as they desired to understand, could not realize the goodness and greatness of John Bunyan like those who had lived with him, and knew the piety of his daily life.
Young William Beecher, some time afterward, married Elizabeth Bunyan, the dreamer' s daughter. For a long time he bitterly reproached himself as having in some sense caused the death of so good a man.
Bunyan' s ancient enemy, Sir George Blundell, lived and died a swearing, profane, sensual man. All his thoughts were of sport. The death of the man he had persecuted only preceded his own awful end by a few months. Then he died from a fall while intoxicated-his last words being a blasphemous speech, in which Bunyan' s name was somehow mentioned.
Sir Henry Chester long continued to advance in worldly prosperity, the changes of the time only seemed to make him more rich. But it was evident that his mind was disturbed, and men murmured that the suffering he had caused would not allow him to sleep. At length he became deranged, and while thus insane he murdered his wife, and dangerously wounded his eldest son, who had come to her rescue.
Wingate had been dead already some thirteen years, and his posterity became helpers of the Dissenters their ancestors persecuted.
Elizabeth Bunyan did not long survive her noble husband. In 1692 she followed the pilgrim into the City. "So the road was full of people to see her take her journey. But behold all the banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots which were come down from above to accompany her to the city gate. So she came forth, and entered the river with a beckon of farewell to those who followed her. “The last words she was heard to say were, "I come, Lord, to be with Thee and bless Thee!"
"So her children and friends returned to their place, for those that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went and called and entered in at the gate with all the ceremonies of joy that her husband Christian had entered in before her. At her departure the children wept. But Mr. Greatheart and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp for joy.”
“And after that they shut up the gates, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.”