John Bunyan

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

John Bunyan Poems

41. On The Rising Of The Sun 1/1/2004
42. Upon A Penny Loaf 1/1/2004
43. From Mount Gerizzim 1/1/2004
44. Meditation Upon The Day Before The Sun Rising 1/1/2004
45. An Introduction To The Ensuing Discourse. 1/1/2004
46. Of Moses And His Wife 1/1/2004
47. O Wondrous Dreamer, With Thy Power Divine, 4/20/2010
48. Of The Love Of Christ 1/1/2004
49. Love Inducin Christian Conduct 1/1/2004
50. Of Judgement 1/1/2004
51. The Song Of The Shepherd Boy In The Valley Of Humiliation 4/20/2010
52. Author's Apology For His Book 1/1/2004
53. Of Imputed Righteousness 1/1/2004
54. The Pilgrim 4/20/2010
55. Of Child With Bird At The Bush 1/1/2004
56. Upon The Fish In The Water 1/1/2004
57. Meditations Upon An Egg 1/1/2004
58. Introduction To A Pilgrim's Progress 1/1/2004
59. The Spirit Of Prayer 1/1/2004
60. How Graces Are To Be Obtained 1/1/2004
61. Upon Apparel 1/3/2003
62. Of Heaven 1/1/2004
63. Meditations Upon A Candle 1/1/2004
64. Of Hell And The Estate Of Those Who Perish 1/1/2004
65. A Boy And Watchmaker 1/1/2004
66. Upon Time And Eternity 1/3/2003
67. Of Holiness Of Life 1/1/2004
68. Of Man By Nature 1/1/2004
69. He That Is Down Needs Fear No Fall, 4/20/2010
70. Upon A Snail 1/1/2004
71. Of Godly Fear 1/1/2004
72. Who Would True Valour See 1/3/2003
73. Of The Boy And Butterfly 1/3/2003
74. The Sinner And The Spider 1/1/2004
75. The Shepherd Boy Sings In The Valley Of Humiliation 1/4/2003

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Best Poem of John Bunyan

The Shepherd Boy Sings In The Valley Of Humiliation

HE that is down needs fear no fall,
   He that is low, no pride;
He that is humble ever shall
   Have God to be his guide.

I am content with what I have,
   Little be it or much:
And, Lord, contentment still I crave,
   Because Thou savest such.

Fullness to such a burden is
   That go on pilgrimage:
Here little, and hereafter bliss,
   Is best from age to age.

Read the full of The Shepherd Boy Sings In The Valley Of Humiliation

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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