Life of Bunyan | Page 9

Lord said to one, Follow me;
and to another, Come after me: and oh! thought I, that he would say so
to me too: how gladly would I run after him! How lovely now was
every one in my eyes, that I thought to be converted, whether man or
woman! They shone, they walked like a people that carried the broad
seal of heaven upon them. Oh! I saw the lot was fallen to them in
pleasant places, and they had a goodly heritage. But that which made

me sick, was that of Christ,- -'He went up into a mountain, and called to
him whom he would, and they came unto him.' This Scripture made me
faint and fear, yet it kindled fire in my soul. That which made me fear
was this: lest Christ should have no liking to me, for he called whom he
would. But oh! the glory that I saw in that condition did still so engage
my heart, that I could seldom read of any that Christ did call but I
presently wished, 'Would I had been in their clothes! would I had been
born Peter! would I had been born John! or, would I had been bye, and
had heard him when he called them, how would I have cried, O Lord,
call me also. But oh! I feared he would not call me.'"
There was at that time a minister in Bedford whose history was almost
as remarkable as Bunyan's own. His name was Gifford. He had been a
staunch royalist, and concerned in the rising in Kent. He was arrested,
and, with eleven of his comrades, was doomed to die. The night before
the day fixed for his execution his sister came to visit him. She found
the guard asleep, and, with her assistance, the prisoner effected his
escape. For three days he was hid in a field, in the bottom of a deep
ditch; but at last he contrived to get away to a place of safety in the
neighbourhood of Bedford. Being there a perfect stranger, he ventured
on the practice of physic; but he was still abandoned to reckless habits
and outrageous vice. One evening he lost a large sum of money at the
gaming-table, and in the fierceness of his chagrin his mind was filled
with the most desperate thoughts of the providence of God. In his
vexation he snatched up a book. It was a volume of Bolton, a solemn
and forceful writer then well known. A sentence in this book so fixed
on his conscience that for many weeks he could get no rest in his spirit.
When at last he found forgiveness through the blood of Christ, his joy
was extreme, and, except for two days before his death, he never lost
the comfortable persuasion of God's love. For some time the few pious
individuals in that neighbourhood would not believe that such a
reprobate was really converted; but, nothing daunted by their distrust,
like his prototype of Tarsus, he began to preach the Word with
boldness, and, endowed with a vigorous mind and a fervent spirit,
remarkable success attended his ministry. A little church was formed,
and he was invited to become its pastor; and there he continued till he
died. {2} It was to this Mr Gifford that Bunyan was at this time
introduced; and though the conversations of this "Evangelist" brought

him no immediate comfort, it was well for him to enjoy the friendship
and sympathy of one whose own views were so clear and happy.
It is instructive to find, that, amid all the depression of these anxious
days, it was not any one sin, nor any particular class of sins, which
made him so fearful and unhappy. He felt that he was a sinner, and as a
sinner he wanted a perfect righteousness to present him faultless before
God. This righteousness, he also knew, was nowhere to be found
except in the person of Jesus Christ. "My original and inward
pollution,--that was my plague and affliction. THAT I saw at a dreadful
rate, always putting forth itself within me,--that I had the guilt of to
amazement; by reason of that I was more loathsome in mine own eyes
than a toad; and I thought I was so in God's eyes too. Sin and
corruption, I said, would as naturally bubble out of my heart as water
would out of a fountain. I thought now that every one had a better heart
than I had. I could have changed hearts with any body. I thought none
but the devil himself could equalize me for inward wickedness and
pollution of mind. I fell, therefore, at the sight of my own vileness,
deeply into despair; for I concluded that this condition that I was in