Conversation of the Pilgrims and Human-Reason.

his divine revelation. He that walks without this light, walks in darkness, though he may strike out some faint and glimmering sparkles of his own; and he that, out of the gross and wooden dictates of his natural reason, carves out a religion to himself, is but a more refined idolater than those that worship stocks and stones, hammering an idol out of his fancy, and adoring the works of his own imagination. For this reason God is no where said to be jealous, but upon the account of his worship. To this end was he so particularly nice (if I may so speak, with reverence) in all those strict injunctions he laid on the children of Israel as to his worship. He gave to Moses in the mount an exact pattern of the tabernacle, its vessels, instruments, and appurtenances; he prescribed the particular times and seasons, the peculiar manner, rites, and ceremonies of his worship, not a tittle of which were they to transgress, under pain of death.

Now what needed all this caution and severity, if it were a matter so indifferent, as this man makes it, how God is worshipped? He that thinks, if by patching up half a dozen natural reasons together he can prove a Deity and pay some homage and acknowledgment to him as such, that all is well with him; nay, that he is in the nearest and readiest way to heaven: in the mean while concluding that we go round about, if not a quite contrary way, who take up our religion on no less credit and authority than that of divine revelation. This he calls laying aside our senses and our reason, to believe, by a blind and implicit faith, the doctrine and opinions of a certain number of men pretending to be divinely inspired: and not only so, but believing doctrines diametrically opposite to our reason, and the common sense and experience of the old world. But tell me, O vain man, how do we lay aside our senses and our reason, when we use both in a due subordination to faith? Faith comes itself by hearing, which is one of our senses; we hear the glad tidings of the gospel preached to us, and our hearts are brought into subjection to the power thereof; natural reason taught us to believe there is a God, but faith teaches us to believe in him, and how to worship him. The things which we believe of him, are indeed far above our senses and reason, but not contrary to them; nay, in this our senses and reason are instrumental to our faith, that when we read or hear of any of the miracles done by Christ and his apostles, our reason tells us they could not be done but by the mighty power of God, and that God would not by such miracles give testimony to a lie; therefore consequently our reason teaches us to believe that Christ and his apostles

The Pilgrims leave Human-Reason.

were really such as they professed themselves to be; he the Son of God, they his servants, and men inspired by the Holy Ghost, and consequently that all their doctrines were true. How then can I stumble at the doctrine of the Trinity, the incarnation of Christ, his being conceived and brought forth of a virgin, and she remaining a pure virgin? Thus far my reason is serviceable to my faith the one leads me by the hand to the vail, the other draws it back and discovers all the sacred mysteries. Yet still let reason keep her distance; she is but the handmaid, faith is the mistress; sense and reason attend in the outer courts of the temple, but faith enters into the holy of holies.

Now without faith it is impossible to please God. Faith is the evidence of things not seen, the substance of things hoped for. This is that faith which thou, O Human Reason, hast so much contemned and vilified. This is the faith which the shepherds recommended to us. This is that perspective-glass through which we saw the glories of the celestial Jerusalem. Therefore cease henceforth to speak evil of the way of the Lord, cease to prevent the souls of such as seek the Lord in sincerity, and with an humble faith.

When he had made an end of these words, Tender-Conscience burst out into tears for grief and joy; for grief, that he had suffered his mind to be warped by the seducing eloquence of Human-Reason; and for joy, that Spiritual-Man had so well answered and confuted his argument; which made him address himself thus to Spiritual-Man:

TENDER. I am heartily sorry that my foolishness should have hindered all the company of so much me, while we might have been a good way on our journey: now I am fully satisfied that Human-Reason, is but an ignis fatuus to the mind, a false light, a deceiver; and therefore let us leave him to his den of shadows, and prosecute our journey.

Then I saw in my dream, that they went forward, while Tender-Conscience sang

Vain Human-Reason boasts himself a light,
Though but a wand'ring meteor of the night;
Bred in the bogs and fens of conimou earth,
A dunghill was the place of his high birth:
Yet the impo-tor would aspire to be
Esteem'd a son of noble pedigree:
Vaunting his father's titles and his race,
Though you see Mongrel written in his face.
A better herald has unmask'd the sham,
Aud proved a strumpet was the guggler's dam,
In vain he seeks on pilgrims to impose,
In vain he strives to lead them by the nose;

The Pilgrims arrive at the Enchanted Ground.

The cheat's discover'd, and bright Truth prevails,
When humble Faith doth hold the sacred scales.
Reason and Sense are but deceitful guides,
A better convoy God for us provides—
Celestial Truth dwells in th' abyss of light,
Wrapt up in clouds from Human Reason's sight;
He that would see her as she's thus conceal'd,
Must look by faith, believing what's reveal'd.
Reason may well at her own quarry fly,
But finite cannot grasp infinity.

Rest then, my soul, from endless anguish freed,
Nor Reason is thy guide, nor Sense thy creed.
Faith is the best insurer of thy bliss,

The bank above must fail before this venture miss."

Now as they went along, they came to the place were the Flatterer had seduced Christian and Hopeful out of the road into a by-way; which might be easily done, for though it was a by-way, yet it seemed to lie as straight before them as the true way. But, however, our pilgrims had the good fortune to escape the way that led to the nets, by means of Spiritual. Man's company, who had shrewd insight into that road.

Now I saw in my dream, that they had not gone far before they all began to be very drowsy, insomuch that Weary-o'-theWorld began to talk of lying down and taking a nap: at which Convert, who had not spoken a word since they parted from the cave of Reformation till this time, fetched a deep sigh, and wept bitterly; but amidst his tears he called out very earnestly to Weary-o'-the-World, warning him not to sleep in that place. This sudden passion and extraordinary carriage of Convert, who had been silent all the way before, made every body curious to learn the occasion of it; and Spiritual-Man desired him to acquaint the company with the occasion of this sudden emotion. Then Convert telling them, if they would escape death, or very near danger of it, they must not offer to sleep on that ground; promising to give them an account of his life in short, and desired them to give good attention to his words, which would be a means to keep them waking; so he began:

CONVERT. You may remember, said he, the shepherds at parting, among other good and wholesome advices, bid us have special care not to sleep on the Enchanted Ground. Now when I saw some of the company inclined to sleep, I called to mind the shepherds' exhortation, and also my own former miscarriage in this point, which made me burst forth into tears, to think how far I had gone back from heaven-ward, by reason of sleeping in this place; and what danger you would all have run, should you but have lain down on this Enchanted Ground; for this is the place the shepherds told us of.

Convert gives an account of his former Life.

SPIRITUAL. Blessed art thou of the Lord, O happy young man, who hast prevented us from sleeping in this place: pray entertain us with a relation of your past travels, for I perceive by your discourse that you have been on this way before now. CONVERT. 'Tis possible that you may have heard of one Atheist that met Christian and Hopeful a little way off from this place as they travelled to the heavenly City. I am the man. though my name be now changed; nor was that my proper name, but was given me after my sleep on the Enchanted Ground; for my name before was Well-Meaning, but now it is Convert. I was born in the Valley of Destruction, and brought from thence very young by my father; but as we came along, by that man behind us, even by Human-Reason, I was so pleased with his discourse, that my father could not get me along with him, but I must needs tarry a while to converse with Human-Reason, telling my father that he being old and crazy, I should soon overtake him; but Human-Reason had such enticing ways with him, that I had not power to leave his company a great while: nay, at last when he saw that I would go, he would needs accompany me to this place, and at parting he gave me something to drink out of a phial, which he told me was an excellent cephalic, and good against all the distempers of the brain, to which travellers are liable, by reason of heats and colds, and the like; and so he took his leave, and went back to his cave.

But he was no sooner gone than I fell asleep on this ground, whether through the influence of that liquor he gave me, or through the nature of the vapours which arise out of the ground, I know not, but my sleep seemed very sweet unto me; and I believe I had slept my last here, had I not been used from my childhood to walk in my sleep; for getting up in my sleep, I walked back again the same way by which I came, till I was quite off from the Enchanted Ground, and there I met with Christian and Hopeful, who were going forward to Mount Sion: so when they told me where they were going I fell a laughing heartily at them, calling them a hundred fools for taking upon them so tedious a journey, when they were like to have nothing for their pains but mere labour and travel.

Now all this while my brains were so stupified with that liquor which Human-Reason had made me drink, that I was not sensible I had been asleep, but was as one in a dream; and my fancy was so possessed with an imagination that I had been as far as any pilgrim could go, but could find no such place as the heavenly Jerusalem, and therefore I believed there was

Convert gives an account of his former Life.

none, and so I told them; but, however, they would not hearker to my foolish words, but went forward on their journey, and kept on my course backward, till I came to the town of Vanity where I took up my lodging for a great while; till once upo a time,being at one of the public shows in the fair, I was strucl with a thunderbolt from heaven, which had almost cost m my life, for I was forced to keep my chamber a whole year upon it. Now in this time of my confinement, I began to think o my former life, and the miserable condition I was in, if i should please God to take me away; this made me weep day and night by myself: I also fasted and prayed, and humbled myself before the Lord in secret; and I vowed a vow unto God, that if it would please him to restore me to health again, I would undertake a pilgrimage to Mount Sion, on the first opportunity I could meet with to have company. God heard my prayer, my vow, and my tears, and restored me in a little time, and I waked, and soon left that wicked town; and remembering that I had an acquaintance or two in the cave of Reformation, men of sober dispositions and religious lives, I resolved to go and see them, if perhaps I might prevail upon them to go along with me. So I went accordingly to the aforesaid cave, and found my two friends there, whom I often broke my mind to about this matter: but they put me off till they could get more company, telling me, that it would not be long before some pilgrims would come by; which made me long for the happy hour when I might hear of any travellers that were going that way.

In the mean while I abode in the cave, and conversed with a great many men there; and among the rest I prevailed on Zealous-Mind and Yielding to go along with us; for my friends' names were Seek-Truth and Weary-o'-the-World, whom we have in our company now. So when Tender-Conscience came by, and was looking on the pillar of History, SeekTruth happened to see him, and knowing by his habit that he was a pilgrim, he presently struck up the bargain with him to bear him company, and called the rest out of the cave; a little way off from which we overtook Spiritual-Man, and so we ail joined company, and came along together, not one of us but Yielding being lost: he must needs follow the excess of the town of Vanity, and so got a surfeit with Seducer in wine, which killed him.

Now I saw in my dream, that the pilgrims by this time were got over the Enchanted Ground, and entered into the country of Beulah, whose air was sweetened with all manner of aroma