Works of John Bunyan — Volume 02

by John Bunyan

A HOLY LIFE THE BEAUTY OF CHRISTIANITY: or, AN EXHORTATION TO
CHRISTIANS TO BE HOLY. BY JOHN BUNYAN.

Holiness becometh thine house, O Lord, for ever.'—[Psalm 93:5]

London, by B. W., for Benj. Alsop, at the Angel and Bible, in the
Poultrey. 1684.

THE EDITOR'S ADVERTISEMENT.

This is the most searching treatise that has ever fallen under our notice. It is an invaluable guide to those sincere Christians, who, under a sense of the infinite importance of the salvation of an immortal soul, and of the deceitfulness of their hearts, sigh and cry, "O Lord of hosts, that judgest righteously, that triest the reins (most secret thoughts) and the heart.' "Try MY reins and my heart.' for it is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? I the Lord search the heart, I try the reins, even to give every man according to his ways, and according to the fruit of his doings.' He, in whose heart the Holy Spirit has raised the solemn inquiry, What must I do to be saved?' flies from his own estimate of himself, with distrust and fear, and appeals to an infallible and unerring scrutiny. Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.' Reader, are you desirous of having your hopes of pardon, and of heaven, weighed in the unerring balances of the sanctuary; while you are yet in a state of probation? Meditate and ponder over this faithful little work. If accompanied by the Divine blessing, it will test your faith and practice in the crucible and by the fire of God's word. It is intended to turn your spirit inside out—to lay bare every insidious enemy that may have crept in and lie lurking in the walls of Mansoul. It exhibits sin in all its hideous deformity, stript of its masquerade and disguises; so that it appears, what it really is, the great enemy to human happiness. It is calculated to stir up our pure minds to incessant vigilance, lest we should wander upon tempting, but forbidden paths; and be caught by Giant Despair, to become the object of his cruelty in Doubting Castle.

This work was first published in 1684, in a pocket volume, comprising nine sheets duodecimo; but became so rare, as to have escaped the researches of Wilson, Whitefield, and other editors of the collected works of Mr. Bunyan,—until about the year 1780, when it was first re-published in an edition of his works, with notes, by Mason and Ryland. The evident object of this treatise was to aid Christian efforts, under the Divine blessing, in stemming the torrent of iniquity, which, like an awful flood, was overspreading this country. The moral and religious restraints, which the government under the Commonwealth had imposed, were dissolved by the accession of a debauched prince to the throne of England; a prince who was bribed, to injure or destroy the best interests of the country, by the voluptuous court of France. He had taken refuge there from the storm; and had been defiled and corrupted beyond ordinary conception. The king and his court were surrounded by pimps, panders, courtesans, and flatterers. The example of the court spread throughout the country—religion became a jest and laughing-stock; and those who were not to be cajoled out of their soul's eternal happiness—whose vital godliness preserved them in the midst of such evil examples and allurements, were persecuted with unrelenting rigour. The virtuous Lord William Russel, and the illustrious Sydney, fell by the hands of the executioner: John Hampden was fined forty thousand pounds. The hand of God was stretched out. An awful pestilence carried off nearly seventy thousand of the inhabitants of London. In the following year, that rich and glorious city, with the cathedral—the churches—public buildings-and warehouses, replenished with merchandise—were reduced to ashes. The Dutch fleet sailed up the Thames and threatened destruction to our navy, and even to the government,—filling the court and country with terror. Still profligacy reigned in the court and country—a fearful persecution raged against all who refused to attend the church service. Thousands perished in prison, and multitudes were condemned to expatriate themselves. The timid and irresolute abandoned the faith,—desolation spread over the church of God. At this time, at imminent risk, John Bunyan not only fearlessly preached, but published his faithful Advice to Sufferers;' which was immediately followed by this important work, calling upon every one who named the name of Christ, 'at all hazards, to depart from iniquity.' They were words in season,' and were good,' like apples of gold in pictures of silver.' (Prov. 25:11)

The contrast in public manners must have been painfully felt by one, who had seen and enjoyed the general appearances, and doubtless many real proofs of piety, which prevailed under the protectorate of Cromwell. He was now called to witness the effects of open and avowed wickedness among governors and nobles, by which the fountains of iniquity were opened up, and a flood of immorality let loose upon all classes; demoralizing the nation, and distressing the church. It must have been difficult to form any thing like an accurate estimate of the number of those who abandoned their Christian profession. The immoral conduct of one bad man is more conspicuous than the unobtrusive holiness of ninety-nine good men; more especially, when a professor becomes profane. Thus Bunyan argues, 'One black sheep is quickly espied among five hundred white ones, and one mangey one will soon infect many. One also, among the saints, that is not clean, is a blemish to the rest, and as Solomon says, 'One sinner destroyeth much good.' p. 527. It is more congenial to our fallen nature to notice, and be grieved with, evil conduct, than it is to rejoice over that excellence which may cast the observer into the shade; besides the jaundiced fear that good works may arise from improper motives. These principles equally applied to the state of society under the Presbyterian government: but when the restoration to the old system took place, so vast a change passed over society, like a pestilence, 'that sin, through custom, became no sin. The superfluity of naughtiness,' says Bunyan, 'is at this day become no sin with many.' p. 509. 'There are a good many professors now in England that have nothing to distinguish them from the worst of men,' but their praying, reading, hearing of sermons, baptism, church fellowship, and breaking of bread. Separate them but from these, and every where else they are as black as others, even in their whole life and conversation.' p. 508. 'It is marvellous to me to see sin so high amidst the swarms of professors that are found in every corner of this land.' If the conduct of many professors were so vile, as there can be no doubt but that it was, how gross must have been that of the openly profane? It accounts for the wicked wit and raillery of Hudibras, when so many professors threw off the mask and gloried in their hypocrisy—Butler shut his eyes to the cruel sufferings of thousands who perished in jails, the martyrs to the sincerity of their faith and conduct. The falling away was indeed great; and Bunyan, with all earnestness, warns his readers that, 'To depart from iniquity is to shun those examples, those beastly examples to drunkenness—to whoredom—to swearing—to lying—to stealing—to sabbath-breaking—to pride—to covetousness—to deceit—to hypocrisy, that in every corner of the country present themselves to men.' p. 517. 'O the fruits of repentance thick sown by preachers, come up but thinly! Where are they found? Confession of sin, shame for sin, amendment of life, restitution for cozening, cheating, defrauding, beguiling thy neighbour,—where shall these fruits of repentance be found? Repentance is the bitter pill, without the sound working of which, base and sinful humour rest unstirred, unpurged, undriven out of the soul.' p. 519.

'I would not be austere,' said Bunyan, 'but were wearing of gold, putting on of apparel, dressing up houses, decking of children, learning of compliments, boldness in women, lechery in men, wanton behaviour, lascivious words, and tempting carriages, signs of repentance; then I must say, the fruits of repentance swarm in our land.' 'The tables of God's book are turned upside down. Love, to their doctrine, is gone out of the country.' 'Love is gone, and now coveting, pinching, griping, and such things, are in fashion; now iniquity abounds instead of grace, in many that name the name of Christ.' p. 529, 520. 'Alas! alas! there is a company of half priests in the world; they dare not teach the people the whole counsel of God, because they would condemn themselves, and their manner of living in the world: where is that minister now to be found, that dare say to his people, walk as you have me for an example, or that dare say, what you see and hear to be in me, do, and the God of peace shall be with you.' p. 520. Such was the general character of the parish priests, after the black Bartholomew Act had driven the pious and godly ministers from the parish churches. It is almost a miracle that Bunyan escaped persecution for his plain dealing. We cannot wonder, that under such teachers, 'Christians learned to be proud one of another, to be covetous, to be treacherous, and false, to be cowardly in God's matters, to be remiss and negligent in christian duties, one of another.' p. 525. A scandal was thus brought upon religion. 'Upon this I write with a sigh; for never more than now. There is no place where the professors of religion are, that is free from offence and scandal. Iniquity is so entailed to religion, and baseness of life to the naming the name of Christ, that 'All places are full of vomit and filthiness.' 'Ah! Lord God, this is a lamentation, that a sore disease is got into the church of God.' p. 529. It was a period when a more awful plague raged as to morals and religion, than that which, about the same time, had ravaged London with temporal death—the plague of hypocrisy—of naming the name of Christ, and still living in sin. 'Hypocrisies are of that nature, that they spread themselves over the mind as the leprosy does over the body. It gets in the pulpit, in conference, in closets, in communion of saints, in faith, in love, in repentance, in zeal, in humility, in alms, in the prison, and in all duties, and makes the whole a loathsome stink in the nostrils of God.' p. 538 These licentious times, in which we live, are full of iniquity.' p. 539. 'They change one bad way for another, hopping, as the squirrel, from bough to bough, but not willing to forsake the tree,—from drunkards to be covetous, and from that to pride and lasciviousness—this is a grand deceit, common, and almost a disease epidemical among professors.' p. 532. 'The sins of our day are conspicuous and open as Sodom's were; pride and covetousness, loathing of the gospel, and contemning holiness, have covered the face of the nation.' p. 534. The infection had spread into the households of professors. 'Bless me, saith a servant, are those the religious people! Are these the servants of God, where iniquity is made so much of, and is so highly entertained! And now is his heart filled with prejudice against all religion, or else he turns hypocrite like his master and his mistress, wearing, as they, a cloak of religion to cover all abroad, while all naked and shameful at home.' p. 536. 'He looked for a house full of virtue, and behold nothing but spider-webs; fair and plausible abroad, but like the sow in the mire at home.' The immoral taint infected the young. '0! it is horrible to behold how irreverently, how easily, and malapertly, children, yea, professing children, at this day, carry it to their parents; snapping and checking, curbing and rebuking of them, as if they had received a dispensation from God to dishonour and disobey parents.' p. 535. 'This day, a sea and deluge of iniquity has drowned those that have a form of godliness. Now immorality shall, with professors, be in fashion, be pleaded for, be loved and more esteemed than holiness; even those that have a form of godliness, hate the life and power thereof, yea, they despise them that are good.' p. 543.

This melancholy picture of vice and profligacy was drawn by one whose love of truth rendered him incapable of deceit or of exaggeration. It was published at the time, and was unanswered, because unanswerable. It was not painted from imagination by an ascetic; but from life by an enlightened observer—not by the poor preaching mechanic when incarcerated in a jail for his godliness; but when his painful sufferings were past—when his Pilgrim, produced by the folly of persecutors, had rendered him famous through Europe—when his extraordinary pulpit talents were matured and extensively known, so that thousands crowded to hear him preach—when his labours were sought in London and in the country—when his opportunities of observation had become extended far beyond most of his fellow-ministers. The tale is as true as it is full of painful interest. The causes of all this vice are perfectly apparent. Whenever a government abuses its powers by interfering with divine worship—by preferring one sect above all others; whether it be Presbyterian, Independent, or Episcopalian—such a requiring the things that are God's to be rendered unto Caesar, must be the prolific source of persecution, hypocrisy, and consequent immorality and profaneness. The impure process of immorality as checked by the rival labours of all the sects to promote vital godliness. Can we wonder that such a state of society was not long permitted to exist? In three troublous years from the publication of this book, the licentious monarch was swept away by death, not without suspicion of violence, and his besotted popish successor fled to die in exile. An enlightened monarch was placed upon the vacant throne, and persecution was deprived of its tiger claws and teeth by the act of toleration.

However interesting to the christian historian, and humbling to human pride, the facts may be which are here disclosed; it was not the author's intention thus to entertain his readers. No; this invaluable tract has an object in view of far greater importance. It is an earnest, affectionate, but pungent appeal to all professors of every age, and nation, and sect, to the end of time. The admonition of the text is to you, my reader, and to me; whether we be rich or poor, ministers or ministered unto, it comes home equally to every heart, from the mightiest potentate through every grade of society to the poorest peasant. May the sound ever reverberate in our ears and be engraven upon our hearts, 'Let every one that nameth the name of Christ depart from iniquity.'