Works of John Bunyan Volume III Part 158

The man now lays him down upon his bed, The wick yields up its fire, and so is dead.

The candle now extinct is, but the man By grace mounts up to glory, there to stand.

XV.

UPON THE SACRAMENTS.

Two sacraments I do believe there be, Baptism and the Supper of the Lord; Both mysteries divine, which do to me, By G.o.d's appointment, benefit afford.

But shall they be my G.o.d, or shall I have Of them so foul and impious a thought, To think that from the curse they can me save?

Bread, wine, nor water, me no ransom bought.[27]

XVI.

UPON THE SUN'S REFLECTION UPON THE CLOUDS IN A FAIR MORNING.

Look yonder, ah! methinks mine eyes do see Clouds edged with silver, as fine garments be; They look as if they saw that golden face That makes black clouds most beautiful with grace.

Unto the saints' sweet incense, or their prayer, These smoky curdled clouds I do compare.

For as these clouds seem edged, or laced with gold, Their prayers return with blessings manifold.

XVII.

UPON APPAREL.

G.o.d gave us clothes to hide our nakedness, And we by them do it expose to view.

Our pride and unclean minds to an excess, By our apparel, we to others show.[28]

XVIII.

THE SINNER AND THE SPIDER.

Sinner.

What black, what ugly crawling thing art thou?

Spider.

I am a spider-------------

Sinner.

A spider, ay, also a filthy creature.

Spider.

Not filthy as thyself in name or feature.

My name entailed is to my creation, My features from the G.o.d of thy salvation.

Sinner.

I am a man, and in G.o.d's image made, I have a soul shall neither die nor fade, G.o.d has possessed me[29] with human reason, Speak not against me lest thou speakest treason.

For if I am the image of my Maker, Of slanders laid on me He is partaker.

Spider.

I know thou art a creature far above me, Therefore I shun, I fear, and also love thee.

But though thy G.o.d hath made thee such a creature, Thou hast against him often played the traitor.

Thy sin has fetched thee down: leave off to boast; Nature thou hast defiled, G.o.d's image lost.

Yea, thou thyself a very beast hast made, And art become like gra.s.s, which soon doth fade.

Thy soul, thy reason, yea, thy spotless state, Sin has subjected to th' most dreadful fate.

But I retain my primitive condition, I've all but what I lost by thy ambition.

Sinner.

Thou venomed thing, I know not what to call thee, The dregs of nature surely did befall thee, Thou wast made of the dross and sc.u.m of all, Man hates thee; doth, in scorn, thee spider call.

Spider.

My venom's good for something, 'cause G.o.d made it, Thy sin hath spoiled thy nature, doth degrade it.

Of human virtues, therefore, though I fear thee, I will not, though I might, despise and jeer thee.

Thou say'st I am the very dregs of nature, Thy sin's the sp.a.w.n of devils, 'tis no creature.

Thou say'st man hates me 'cause I am a spider, Poor man, thou at thy G.o.d art a derider; My venom tendeth to my preservation, Thy pleasing follies work out thy d.a.m.nation.

Poor man, I keep the rules of my creation, Thy sin has cast thee headlong from thy station.

I hurt n.o.body willingly, but thou Art a self-murderer; thou know'st not how To do what good is; no, thou lovest evil; Thou fliest G.o.d's law, adherest to the devil.[30]

Sinner.

Ill-shaped creature, there's antipathy 'Twixt man and spiders, 'tis in vain to lie; I hate thee, stand off, if thou dost come nigh me, I'll crush thee with my foot; I do defy thee.

Spider.

They are ill-shaped, who warped are by sin, Antipathy in thee hath long time been To G.o.d; no marvel, then, if me, his creature, Thou dost defy, pretending name and feature.

But why stand off? My presence shall not throng thee, 'Tis not my venom, but thy sin doth wrong thee.

Come, I will teach thee wisdom, do but hear me, I was made for thy profit, do not fear me.

But if thy G.o.d thou wilt not hearken to, What can the swallow, ant, or spider do?

Yet I will speak, I can but be rejected, Sometimes great things by small means are effected.

Hark, then, though man is n.o.ble by creation, He's lapsed now to such degeneration, Is so besotted and so careless grown, As not to grieve though he has overthrown Himself, and brought to bondage everything Created, from the spider to the king.

This we poor sensitives do feel and see; For subject to the curse you made us be.

Tread not upon me, neither from me go; 'Tis man which has brought all the world to woe, The law of my creation bids me teach thee; I will not for thy pride to G.o.d impeach thee.

I spin, I weave, and all to let thee see, Thy best performances but cobwebs be.

Thy glory now is brought to such an ebb, It doth not much excel the spider's web; My webs becoming snares and traps for flies, Do set the wiles of h.e.l.l before thine eyes; Their tangling nature is to let thee see, Thy sins too of a tangling nature be.

My den, or hole, for that 'tis bottomless, Doth of d.a.m.nation show the lastingness.

My lying quiet until the fly is catch'd, Shows secretly h.e.l.l hath thy ruin hatch'd.

In that I on her seize, when she is taken, I show who gathers whom G.o.d hath forsaken.

The fly lies buzzing in my web to tell Thee how the sinners roar and howl in h.e.l.l.

Now, since I show thee all these mysteries, How canst thou hate me, or me scandalize?

Sinner.

Well, well; I no more will be a derider, I did not look for such things from a spider.