John Bunyan

(28 November 1628 – 31 August 1688 / Elstow, Bedfordshire, England.)

John Bunyan Poems

1. A Boy And Watchmaker 1/1/2004
2. An Introduction To The Ensuing Discourse. 1/1/2004
3. Author's Apology For His Book 1/1/2004
4. From Mount Ebal 1/1/2004
5. From Mount Gerizzim 1/1/2004
6. He That Is Down Needs Fear No Fall, 4/20/2010
7. How Graces Are To Be Obtained 1/1/2004
8. Introduction To A Pilgrim's Progress 1/1/2004
9. Love Inducin Christian Conduct 1/1/2004
10. Meditation Upon The Day Before The Sun Rising 1/1/2004
11. Meditations Upon A Candle 1/1/2004
12. Meditations Upon An Egg 1/1/2004
13. O Wondrous Dreamer, With Thy Power Divine, 4/20/2010
14. Of Child With Bird At The Bush 1/1/2004
15. Of Death 1/1/2004
16. Of Godly Fear 1/1/2004
17. Of Heaven 1/1/2004
18. Of Hell And The Estate Of Those Who Perish 1/1/2004
19. Of Holiness Of Life 1/1/2004
20. Of Imputed Righteousness 1/1/2004
21. Of Judgement 1/1/2004
22. Of Love To God 1/1/2004
23. Of Man By Nature 1/1/2004
24. Of Moses And His Wife 1/1/2004
25. Of The Boy And Butterfly 1/3/2003
26. Of The Cuckoo 1/3/2003
27. Of The Flie At The Candle 1/1/2004
28. Of The Going Down Of The Sun 1/1/2004
29. Of The Love Of Christ 1/1/2004
30. Of The Mole In The Ground 1/1/2004
31. Of The Rose Bush 1/1/2004
32. Of The Spouse Of Christ 4/20/2010
33. Of Uprightness And Sincerity 1/1/2004
34. On Promising Fruitfulness Of A Tree 1/1/2004
35. On The Cackling Of A Hen 1/1/2004
36. On The Rising Of The Sun 1/1/2004
37. The Fowls Flying In The Air 1/1/2004
38. The Necessity Of A New Heart 1/1/2004
39. The Operation Of Faith 1/1/2004
40. The Pilgrim 4/20/2010
Best Poem of John Bunyan

Upon A Snail

She goes but softly, but she goeth sure,
She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do.
Her journey's shorter, so she may endure
Better than they which do much farther go.
She makes no noise, but stilly seizeth on
The flower or herb appointed for her food,
The which she quietly doth feed upon
While others range and glare, but find no good.
And though she doth but very softly go,
However, 'tis not fast nor slow, but sure;
And certainly they that do travel so,
The prize they do aim at they do procure.


Although they seem not much to stir, ...

Read the full of Upon A Snail

Of The Boy And Butterfly

Behold, how eager this our little boy
Is for a butterfly, as if all joy,
All profits, honours, yea, and lasting pleasures,
Were wrapped up in her, or the richest treasures
Found in her would be bundled up together,
When all her all is lighter than a feather.

He halloos, runs, and cries out, 'Here, boys, here!'
Nor doth he brambles or the nettles fear:

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