The Holy War, Made by King Shaddai Upon Diabolus, for the Regaining of the Metropolis of the World; Or, The Losing and Taking Again of the Town of MansoulBunyan, John
ReligionChristian
The Holy War, Made by King Shaddai Upon Diabolus, for the Regaining of the Metropolis of the World; Or, The Losing and Taking Again of the Town of Mansoul
Bunyan, John
Christian fiction; Soul; Spiritual warfare -- Fiction
‘Gentlemen, and my very good friends, you are all, as you know, my legal
subjects, and men of the famous town of Mansoul. You know how, from the
first day that I have been with you until now, I have behaved myself
among you, and what liberty and great privileges you have enjoyed under
my government, I hope to your honour and mine, and also to your content
and delight. Now, my famous Mansoul, a noise of trouble there is abroad,
of trouble to the town of Mansoul; sorry I am thereof for your sakes: for
I received but now by the post from my Lord Lucifer, (and he useth to
have good intelligence,) that your old King Shaddai is raising an army to
come against you, to destroy you root and branch; and this, O Mansoul, is
now the cause that at this time I have called you together, namely, to
advise what in this juncture is best to be done. For my part, I am but
one, and can with ease shift for myself, did I list to seek my own case,
and to leave my Mansoul in all the danger; but my heart is so firmly
united to you, and so unwilling am I to leave you, that I am willing to
stand and fall with you, to the utmost hazard that shall befall me. What
say you, O my Mansoul? Will you now desert your old friend, or do you
think of standing by me?’
Then, as one man, with one mouth, they cried out together, ‘Let him die
the death that will not.’
Then said Diabolus again, ‘It is in vain for us to hope for quarter, for
this King knows not how to show it. True, perhaps, he, at his first
sitting down before us, will talk of and pretend to mercy, that thereby,
with the more ease, and less trouble, he may again make himself the
master of Mansoul. Whatever, therefore, he shall say, believe not one
syllable or tittle of it; for all such language is but to overcome us,
and to make us, while we wallow in our blood, the trophies of his
merciless victory. My mind is, therefore, that we resolve to the last
man to resist him, and not to believe him upon any terms, for in at that
door will come our danger. But shall we be flattered out of our lives?
I hope you know more of the rudiments of politics than to suffer
yourselves so pitifully to be served.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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