ONCE upon a time methought I set out upon a long journey, and the place through which I travelled appear­ed to be a dark Valley which was called the valley of Tears. It had obtained this name not only on account of the many sorrowful adventures which poor passengers commonly meet with in their journey through it; but also because most of these Travellers entered it weep­ing and crying, and left it in very great pain and anguish. This vast valley was full of people of all colours, ages, sizes, [Page 4] and descriptions. But whether white or black, or tawney, all were travel­ling the same road; or rather they were taking different little paths which all led to the same common end.

Now it was remarkable that notwith­standing the different complexions, ages, and tempers of this vast variety of peo­ple, yet all resembled each other in this one respect, that each had a burden on his back which he was destined to carry through the toil and heat of the day, until he should arrive by a longer or shorter course at his journey's end. These burdens would in general have made the pilgrimage quite intolerable, had not the Lord of the Valley, out of his great compassion for these poor Pil­grims, provided among other things, the following means for their relief.

In their full view over the entrance of the Valley, there were written in great letters the following words▪

Now I saw in my vision that many [Page 5] of the Travellers hurried on without stopping to read this instruction, and others, though they had once read it, yet paid little or no attention to it. A third sort thought it very good advice for other people, but very seldom appli­ed it to themselves. In short I saw that too many of those people were of opini­on that they had burdens enough of their own, and that there was therefore no oc­casion to take upon them those of others; so each tried to make his own load as light, and his own journey as pleasant as he could, without so much as once casting a thought on a poor over loaded neighbour. Here however I have to make a rather singular remark, by which I shall plainly shew the folly of these selfish people. It was so ordered and contrived by the Lord of this valley, that if any one stretched out his hand to lighten a neighbour's burden, in fact he never failed to find that he at that moment also lightened his own. Be­sides, the obligation to help each other, and the benefit of doing so were mutual. If a man helped his neighbour it com­monly happened that some other neigh­bours [Page 6] came by and by and helped him in his turn; for their was no such thing as what we call independence in the whole Valley. Not one of all these Travellers, however stout and strong, could move on comfortably without as­sistance, for so the Lord of the Valley, whose laws were all of them kind and good, had expressly ordained.

I stood still to watch the progress of these poor way-faring people, who mo­ved slowly on, like so many Ticket por­ters, with burdens of various kinds on their backs; of which some were heavi­er, and some were lighter, but from a burden of one kind or other, not one Traveller was entirely free.

NOW I had a second vision of what was passing in the Valley of Tears. Methought I saw again the same kind of travellers whom I had seen in the former part, and they were wandering at large through the same vast wilderness. At first setting out on his journey, each Traveller had a small lamp so fixed in his bosom that it seemed to make a part of himself, but as this natural light did not prove to be sufficient to direct them in the right way, the king of the coun­try, in pity to their wanderings and their blindness, out of his gracious con­descension promised to give these poor way-faring people an additional supply [Page 16] of light from his own Royal Treasury. But as he did not chuse to lavish his favours where there seemed no dispositi­on to receive them, he would not bestow any of his oil on such as did not think it worth asking for. Ask and ye shall have, was the rule he laid down for them. Many were prevented from ask­ing through pride, for they thought they had light enough already, preferring the feeble glimmerings of their own lamp to all the light from the king's treasury. Yet it was observed of those who rejected it, as thinking they had enough, that hardly any acted up to what even their own light shewed them. Others were deterred from asking, be­cause they were▪ told that it not only pointed out the dangers and difficulties of the road, but by a certain reflecting power, it turned inward on themselves, and revealed to them ugly sights in their own hearts, to which they rather chose to be blind▪ for those Travellers chose darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. Now it was re­markable that these two properties were inseparable, and that the lamp would be [Page 17] of little outward use, except to those who used it as an internal reflector. A threat and a promise also never failed to accompany the offer of this light from the king, a promise that to those who improved what they had, more should be given, and a threat that from those who did not use it wisely, should be taken away even what they had.

I observed that when the road was ve­ry dangerous, when terrors and difficul­ties and death beset the faithful travel­ler, then on their fervent importunity, the king voluntarily gave large and bountiful supplies of light, such as in common seasons never could have been expected; always proportioning the quantity given to the necessity of the case, as their day was, such was their light and strength.

Though many chose to depend entire­ly on their own lamp, yet it was obser­ved that this light was apt to go out [...] left to itself. It was easily blown out by those violent gusts which were perpetu­ally howling through the wilderness, and [Page 18] indeed it was the natural tendency of that unwholesome atmosphere to extin­guish it, just as you have seen a candle go out when exposed to the vapours and foul air of a damp room. It was a me­lancholy sight to see multitudes of Tra­vellers heedlessly pacing on, boasting they had light enough, and despising the offer of more. But what astonished me most of all was, to see many, and some of them too accounted men of first rate wit, actually busy in blowing out their own light, because while any spark of it remained, it only served to torment them, and point out things which they did not wish to see. And having once blown out their own light, they were not easy till they had blown out that of their neighbour's also; so that a good part of the wilderness seemed to exhi­bit a sort of universal blindman's buff▪ each endeavouring to catch his neigh­bour, while his own voluntary blindness exposed him to be caught himself, so [...]hat each was actually falling into the snare he was laying for another, till at length, as selfishness is the natural con­sequence of blindness, "catch he that [Page 19] catch can," became the general cry, throughout the wilderness.

Now I saw in my vision, that there were some others who were busy in strewing the most gaudy flowers over the numerous bogs, precipices, and pit­falls, with which the wilderness abound­ed, and thus making danger and death look so gay, that poor thoughtless crea­tures seemed to delight in their own de­struction. Those pit-falls did not ap­pear deep or dangerous, because over them were raised gay edifices with allu­ring names, in which were singing men and singing women, and dancing, and feasting, and gaming, and drinking, and jollity, and madness. But though the scenery was gay, the footing was unsound. The floors were full of holes, through which the unthinking merry-makers were continually sinking. Some tumbled through in the middle of a song, many at the end of a feast, and though there was many a cup of intoxication wreathed with flowers, yet there was al­ways poison at the bottom. But what most surprized me was, that though no [Page 20] day past over their heads in which some of those merry-makers did not drop through, yet their loss made little im­pression on those who were left. Nay, instead of being awakened to more cir­cumspection and self denial by the con­tinual dropping off of those about them, several of them seemed to borrow from thence an argument of a direct contra­ry tendency, and the very shortness of the time was only urged as a reason to use it more sedulously for the indulgence in sensual delights. Let us eat and drink for to-morrow we die. Let us crown our­selves with rose-buds before they are withered. With these and a thousand other such little mottos, the gay gar­lands of the wilderness were decorated. Some admired poets were set to work to put the most corrupt sentiments into the most harmonious tunes▪ these were sung without scruple, chiefly indeed by the looser sons of riot, but not seldom also by the more orderly daughters of sobriety, who were not ashamed to sing to the sound of instruments, sentiments so corrupt and immoral, that they would have blushed to speak or read them; [Page 21] but the music seemed to sanctify the cor­ruption, especially such as was con­nected with love or drinking.

Now I observed that all the travellers who had so much as a spark of light left, seemed every now and then, as they moved onwards, to cast an eye, though with very different degrees of attention, towards the happy land, which they were told lay at the end of their journey: but as they could not see very far forward, and as they knew there was a dark and shadowy valley which must needs be crossed before they could at­tain to the happy land, they tried to turn their attention from it as much as they could. The truth is, they were not sufficiently apt to consult a map which the king had given them, and which pointed out the road to the happy land so clearly, that the way-faring man though [...] could not err. This map also defined very correctly the bounda­ries of the happy land from the land of misery, both of which lay on the other side of the dark and shadowy valley; but so many beacons and light-houses were [Page 22] erected, so many clear and explicit di­rections furnished for avoiding the one country and attaining the other, that it was not the king's fault, if even one single Traveller got wrong. But I am inclined to think that in spite of the map, and the king's word, and his of­fers of assistance to get them thither, that the Travellers in general did not heartily and truly believe after all, that there was any such country as the hap­py land; or at least the paltry and tran­sient pleasures of the wilderness so be­sotted them, the thoughts of the dark and shadowy valley so frightened them, that they thought they should be more comfortable by banishing all thought and forecast.

Now I also saw in my dream, that there were two roads through the wil­derness, one of which every Traveller must needs take. The first was narrow, and difficult and rough, but it was in­fallibly safe. It did not admit the Tra­veller to stray either to the right hand or the left, yet it was far from being de­stitute of real comforts or sober plea­sures. [Page 23] The other was a broad and tempting way, abounding with luxurious fruits and gaudy flowers to tempt the eye, and please the appetite. To for­get this dark valley, through which eve­ry Traveller was well assured he must one day pass, seemed indeed the object of general desire. To this grand end, all that human ingenuity could invent was industriously set to work. The Travellers read, and they wrote, and they painted, and they sung, and they danced, and they drank as they went along, not so much because they all ca­red for these things, or had any real joy in them, as because this restless activity served to divert their attention from e­ver being fixed on the dark and shadowy valley.

The king, who knew the thoughtless temper of the Travellers, and how apt they were to forget their journey's end, had thought of a thousand little kind attentions to warn them of their dangers. And as we sometimes see in our gardens written on a board in great letters, BE­WARE OF SPRING GUNS—MAN TRAPS [Page 24] ARE SET HERE; so had this king caused to be written and stuck up before the eyes of the Travellers, several like no­tices and cautions, such as Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction—Take heed lest ye also perish—Woe to them that rise up early to drink wine—The pleasures of sin are but for a season. &c. Such were the notices directed to the broad-way Travellers, but they were so busily engaged in plucking the flowers, sometimes before they were blown, and in devouring the fruits, often before they were ripe, and in loading them­selves with yellow clay, under the weight of which millions perished, that they had no time so much as to look at the king's directions. Many went wrong because they prefered a merry journey to a safe one and were terrified by certain notices chiefly intended for the narrow-way Travellers, such as [...] shall weep and lament, but the world shall rejoice; but had these foolish peo­ple allowed themselves time or [...]tience to read to the end which they seldom would do, they would have seen these comfortable words added, but your sor­row [Page 25] shall be turned into joy, also, your joy no man taketh from you, and they that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

Now I also saw in my dream, that ma­ny travellers who had a strong dread of ending at the Land of misery, walked up to the Strait Gate, hoping that though the entrance was narrow, yet if they could once get in, the road would widen; but what was their grief, when on look­ing more closely they saw written on the inside narrow is the way; this made them take fright, they compared the in­scription with which the whole way was lined, such as, be ye not conformed to this world—deny yourselves, take up your cross, with all the tempting plea­sures of the wilderness. Some indeed recollected the fine descriptions they had read of the Happy Lana, the Gol­den City, and the Rivers of Pleasures, and they sighed: but then, those joys were distant, and from the faintness of their light they soon got to think that what was remote might be uncertain, and while the present good increased in bulk by it's nearness, the distant good [Page 26] receded, diminished, disappeared! Their faith sailed, they would trust no farther than they could see; they drew back and got into the Broad Way, ta­king a common but sad refuge in the number and gaiety of their companions. When these saint-hearted people, who yet had set out well, turned back, their light was quite put out, and then they became worse than those who had made no attempt to get in. "For it is impos­sible, that is, it is next to impossible, for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they fall away, to renew them again to re­pentance."

A [...]ew honest humble Travellers not naturally stronger than the rest, but strengthened by their trust in the king's word, came up by the light of their lamps, and meekly entered in at the Strait Gate; as they advanced farther they felt less heavy, and though the way did not in reality grow wider, yet they grew reconciled to the narrowness of it, [Page 27] especially when they saw the walls here and there studded with certain jewels called promises, such as he that endureth to the end shall be saved. And my grace is sufficient for you. Some when they were almost ready to faint, were encou­raged by seeing that many niches in the Narrow Way were filled with statues and pictures of Saints and Martyrs, who had borne their testimony at the stake, that the Narrow Way was the safe way; and these Travellers, instead of sinking at the sight of the painted wheel and gibbet, the sword and the fur­nace, were animated by these words written under them, those that wear white robes came out of great tribulation, and be ye followers of those who, through faith and patience, inherit the promises.

In the mean time there came a great multitude of Travellers▪ all from Laodi­cea; this was the largest party I had yet seen: these were neither hot nor cold, they would not give up future hope, they could not endure present pain; so they contrived to deceive themselves by fancying that they resolved to keep [Page 28] the happy land in view, yet that there must needs be many different ways which led to it, no doubt all equally sure, without being all equally rough; so they set on foot little contrivances to attain the end without using the means, and softened down the spirit of the king's directions to fit them to their own prac­tice. Sometimes they would split a di­rection in two, and only use that half which suited them. For instance, when they met with the following rule, Trust in the Lord, and be doing good, they would take the first half, and make them­selves easy with a general sort of trust, that through the mercy of the king all would go well with them, though, they themselves did nothing; and on the o­ther hand, many made sure that a few good works of their own would do their business, and carry them safely to the happy land, though they did not trust in the Lord, nor place any faith in his word. Thus some perished by a lazy faith, and others by a working pride. A large party of Pharisees now appear­ed, who had so neglected their lamp, that they did not see their way at all, [Page 29] though they fancied themselves to be full of light; they kept up appearances so well, as to delude others, and most effectually to delude themselves with a notion that they might be found in the right way at last. In this dreadful de­lusion they went on to the end, and till they were finally plunged in the dark valley, never discovered the horrors which awaited them on the dismal shore. It was remarkable that while these Pha­risees were often boasting how bright their light burnt, in order to get the praise of men, the humble travellers, whose steady light shewed their good works to others, refused all commenda­tion, and the brighter their light shined before men, so much the more they in­sisted that they ought to glorify not them­selves, but their father which is in hea­ven.

I now set myself to observe what was the particular lett, molestation, and hin­drance, which obstructed particular▪ Tra­vellers in their endeavours to enter in at the Strait Gate. I remarked a huge portly man who seemed desirous of get­ting [Page 30] in, but he carried about him such a vast provision of bags full of gold, and had on so many rich garments which stuffed him out so wide, that though he pushed and squeezed, like one who had really a mind to get in, yet he could not possibly do so. Then I heard a voice crying, woe to him that loadeth himself with thick clay. The poor man felt something was wrong, and even went so far as to change some of his more cumbersome vanities into others which seemed less bulky, but still he and his pack were much too wide for the gate. He would not however give up the mat­ter so easily, but began to throw away a little of the coarser part of his baggage, but still I remarked that he threw away none of the vanities which lay near his heart. He tried again▪ but it would not do; still his dimensions were too large. He now looked up and read these words, "how hardly shall those who have riches enter into the king­dom of God." The poor man sighe [...] to find that it was impossible to enjo [...] his fill of both worlds, and went away sorrowing. If he ever afterwards cast [Page 31] a thought towards the happy land, it was only to regret that the road which led to it was too narrow to admit any but the meagre children of want, who were not so encumbered by wealth as to be too big for the passage. Had he read on he would have seen that with God all things are possible.

Another advanced with much confi­dence of success, for having little world­ly riches or honours, the gate did not seem so strait to him. He got to the threshhold triumphantly, and seemed to look back with disdain on all that he was quitting. He soon found, however, that he was so bloated with pride, and stuffed out with self sufficiency, that he could not get in. Nay, he was in a worse way than the rich man just named; for he was willing to throw away some of his outward luggage, whereas this man refused to part with a grain of that vanity and self-applause which made him too big for the way. The sense of his own worth so swelled him out, that he stuck fast in the gateway, and could neither get in nor out. Finding now [Page 32] that he must cut off all those big thoughts of himself if he wished to be reduced to such a size as to pass the gate, he gave up all thoughts of it. He scorn­ed that humility and self-denial which might have shrunk him down to the pro­per dimensions; the more he insisted on his own qualifications for entrance, the more impossible it came, for the bigger he grew. Finding that he must become quite another manner of man before he could hope to get in, he gave up the desire; and I now saw that though when he set his face towards the happy land he could not get an inch forward▪ yet the instant he made a motion to turn back into the world, his speed became rapid enough, and he soon got back in­to the broad way.

Many, who for a time were brought down from their usual bulk by some af­fliction, seemed to get in with ease. They now thought all their difficulties over, for having been surfeited with the world, during [...]heir late disappointment, they turned their backs upon it wil­lingly enough. A fit of sickness per­haps, [Page 33] which is very apt to reduce, had for a time brought their bodies into sub­jection, so that they were able just to get in at the gateway; but as soon as health and spirits returned, the way grew narrower and narrower to them; they could not get on but turned short, and got back into the world. I saw ma­ny attempt to enter who were stopt short by a large burden of worldly cares; others by a load of idolatrous attach­ments; but I observed that nothing pro­ved a more complete bar than that vast bundle of prejudices with which multi­tudes were loaded. Others were fa­tally obstructed by loads of bad habits which they would not lay down, though they knew it prevented their entrance. Some few, however, of most descriptions, who had kept their light alive by craving constant supplies from the king's trea­sury, got through at last by a strength which they felt not to be their own. One poor man, who carried the largest bundle of bad habits I had seen, could not get on a step; he never ceased how­ever, to implore for light enough to see where his misery lay, he threw down [Page 34] one of his bundles, then another, but all to little purpose, still he could not stir. At last striving as if in agony (which is the true way of entering) he threw down the heaviest article in his pack; this was selfishness, the poor fel­low felt relieved at once, his light burnt brightly and the rest of his pack was as nothing.

Then I heard a great noise as of car­penters at work. I looked what this might be, and saw many sturdy travel­lers, who finding they were too bulky to get through, took it into their heads not to reduce themselves, but to widen the gate; they hacked on this side and hewed on that; but all their hacking, and hewing, and hammering, was to no purpose, they got only their labour for their pains; it was possible they might have reduced themselves, but they could not widen the way.

What grieved me most was to observe that many who had got on successfully a good way, now stopped to rest, and to admire their own progress. While they [Page 35] were thus valuing themselves on their attainments, their light diminished. While these were boasting how far they had left others behind, who had set out much earlier, some slower Travellers, whose beginning had not been so pro­mising, but who had walked carefully, now out stripped them. These last walk­ed, "not as though they had already attained, but this one thing they did, forgetting the things which were behind they pushed forward toward the mark for the prize of their high calling." These, though naturally weak; yet, by laying aside every weight, finished the race that was set before them. Those who had kept their light burning, who were not wise in their own conceit, who laid their help on one that is mighty, who had chosen to suffer affliction rather than to enjoy the pleasures of sin, came at length to the happy land. They had in­deed the dark and shadowy valley to cross; but even there they found a rod and a staff to comfort them. Their light, instead of being put out by the damps of the valley of the shadow of death, often burnt with added bright­ness. [Page 36] Some indeed suffered the terrors of a short eclipse; but even then their light, like that of a dark lanthorn, was not put out; it was only hid for a while, and even these often finished their course with joy. But be that as it might, the instant they reached the Happy Land ▪ all tears were wiped from their eyes, and the King himself came forth and welcomed them into his pre­sence, and put a crown upon their heads, with these words, Well done good and faithful servant, enter thou in­to the joy of thy LORD.