virtue enough in it to wash away their sins, wash away his also?" On another occasion, he is "fleeing from God as from the face of a dreadful judge." But, "in these flying fits," this Scripture calls after him-"I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins; return unto me, for I have redeemed thee." It cries aloud with a very great voice, so that he "makes a little stop, and, as it were, looks over his shoulder behind him to see if he cannot discern that the God of grace follows him with a pardon in his hand." One day, as he is "walking to and fro in a good man's shop," again bowed down by the fear of having committed the unpardonable sin, and praying in his heart that, if his sin do differ from that against the Holy Ghost, the Lord will show it to him— "suddenly there is, as if there rushed in at the window, the noise of wind upon him, but very pleasant; and as if he heard a voice speaking, 'Didst thou ever refuse to be justified by the blood of Christ?'" In an instant, his "whole life of profession" is opened to him; and he sees that designedly he has not, and his "heart answers groaningly, No." Light comes, and a calm silence-stilling the tumult of "those thoughts which, like masterless hell-hounds, have roared and bellowed, and made so hideous a noise within him." Another temptation, however, tries him. Can he have the face once more to go to the feet of that Saviour against whom he has so vilely sinned? Oh the shame which now attends him, when he thinks of going to God by prayer! "It is no use your prayers," whispers Satan; "for God is weary of you and of your unbelief, in not going up to possess the land." The man is stunned. "Oh! who knows," says he, "how hard a thing I found it to come to God in prayer!" But, whilst "pinched very sore," he thinks he can but die; and, so, pray he will and must—even though it should once be written," Such an one died at the foot of Christ in prayer." At this crisis, harassed and perplexed by every passing wind, he breaks his mind to "an ancient Christian," telling him he is afraid he has sinned the sin against the Holy Ghost. "I think so, too," is the reply. This is "cold comfort;" but he is relieved on finding that, though a gracious man, he is "a stranger to much combat with the devil." So he hies him back once more to God again, beseeching mercy there. But a strange cloud still shrouds God's face. He thinks of Jesus-of His "grace, goodness, love, kindness, gentleness, meekness, death, blood, promises, and blessed exhortations, comforts, and consolations;" but all this "goes to his soul like a sword," for the thought comes, "Ay, this is the Jesus, the loving Saviour, whom I have parted with; and oh, what I have lost!" One day, in this troubled mood, he is pacing the streets of a neighboring town-when, ready to sink, he sits down upon a "settle," and "falls into a very deep pause" about his sin. "Methinks," says he, as he lifts up his head after a long musing, "that sun grudges to give me light; and those stones in the street, and tiles on the houses, band themselves against me." And, heaving a heavy sigh, he adds, "How can God comfort such a wretch?" A sunbeam, however, once more penetrates his soul. "This sin of thine," an echo seems to answer, "is not unto death." It is as if he "had suddenly been raised out of the grave," and he exclaims"Lord, how couldst thou find out such a word as this?" For he is "filled with admiration at the fitness and the unexpectedness of the sentence, and at the rightness of the timing of it, and at the power, and sweetness, and light, and glory, which has come with it." His sin, he now thinks, is pardonable; and great is the "easement" to his mind-it is a release" from his former bonds, and a shelter from his former storms." For two days that sentence "stands like a millpost at his back." But by and by it begins to leave him, and to "withdraw its supportation" from him; and so, again he finds himself on his knees under his "old fears," and crying-"O Lord, I beseech thee, show me that thou hast loved me with everlasting love." Scarcely has the cry gone forth, when, like an echo, there returns upon him—“I have loved thee with an everlasting love." He goes to bed in quiet; also, when he awakes next morning, it is fresh upon his soul, and he "believes it." Leaving once more the ashes and the "pots" among which he has been lying, he soars aloft into the soul's proper rest and home— "On steady wings sails through the immense abyss, Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss." And the "love and affection" which now again "burn within him toward his Lord and Saviour," work "such a strong and hot desire of revengement upon himself for the abuse which he has done to Him, that, had he a thousand gallons of blood within his veins, he feels he could freely spill it all at His command, and at His feet." And such a passage as this stimulates him-"There is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared;" for it is "thus made out" to him—that the great God doth set so high an esteem on the love of His poor creatures, that, rather than go without their love, He will pardon their transgressions. And then another word is "fulfilled on him”—“They shall be ashamed and confounded, and never open their mouths any more, because of their shame; when I am pacified toward them for all that they have done, saith the Lord God." And thus his soul at this time-and, as he then thinks, for ever -is "set at liberty from being afflicted with his former guilt and amazement." CHAPTER VIII. "I got me flowers to strew THY way; Heart-ache-Deep gulf—“ Yet I will pray”—“ Clapping on the back”— "Able"-" For thee”—“ A grace-giver"-Napoleon-"Has left Him" -A calm-Christ in heaven-Brainerd-Love. "SECURITY," it has been said, "is the greatest of our dangers." To this peril, certainly, Bunyan is not exposed. His Christian life hitherto has been one continuous conflict; nor is the battle yet over. Many weeks have not passed when again his "heart begins to ache," lest he "meet with disappointment at last." And he sets himself most diligently to examine his former comfort, fearing that one who has sinned so grievously against light may be shut out from all right to peace and joy. "Rejoice not, O Israel, for joy, as other people"-startles him; for, though there is cause of rejoicing for those who "hold to Jesus," has not he cut himself off by his transgressions, and left himself "neither foot-hold nor hand-hold among all the stays and props in the precious Word of life?" And so again he "sinks into a gulf, as a house whose foundation is destroyed,” the darkness brooding over him for many months. |