John Bunyan

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

John Bunyan Poems

1. Of The Cuckoo 1/3/2003
2. Upon The Hour Glass 1/1/2004
3. Upon The Pismire 1/1/2004
4. Upon The Horse And His Rider 1/1/2004
5. Upon Over-Much Niceness 1/1/2004
6. Upon The Sacraments 1/1/2004
7. Upon The Sun's Reflection Upon The Clouds In A Fair Morning 1/1/2004
8. Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard 1/1/2004
9. Upon The Whipping Of The Top 1/1/2004
10. Upon The Flint In The Water 1/1/2004
11. Upon The Vine Tree 1/1/2004
12. Upon The Lark And The Fowler 1/1/2004
13. Upon The Sight Of A Pound Of Candles Falling To The Ground 1/1/2004
14. Upon The Disobedient Child 1/1/2004
15. Upon The Lord's Prayer 1/1/2004
16. Upon Fire 1/1/2004
17. Upon The Swallow 1/1/2004
18. Upon The Skilfull Player Of An Instrument 1/1/2004
19. Of The Rose Bush 1/1/2004
20. To The Reader 1/1/2004
21. The Necessity Of A New Heart 1/1/2004
22. The Fowls Flying In The Air 1/1/2004
23. Of Uprightness And Sincerity 1/1/2004
24. On Promising Fruitfulness Of A Tree 1/1/2004
25. On The Cackling Of A Hen 1/1/2004
26. Upon A Lowering Of Morning 1/1/2004
27. Of The Spouse Of Christ 4/20/2010
28. Upon A Looking Glass 1/1/2004
29. Upon The Thief 1/1/2004
30. Of The Flie At The Candle 1/1/2004
31. The Operation Of Faith 1/1/2004
32. Upon The Bee 1/1/2004
33. From Mount Ebal 1/1/2004
34. Of Love To God 1/1/2004
35. Upon A Sheet Of White Paper 1/1/2004
36. Upon Thebegger 1/1/2004
37. Of The Going Down Of The Sun 1/1/2004
38. Of The Mole In The Ground 1/1/2004
39. Upon The Frog 1/1/2004
40. Of Death 1/1/2004
Best Poem of John Bunyan

He That Is Down Needs Fear No Fall,

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.

Fulness to such a burden is
That go in pilgrimage;
Here little and hereafter bliss
Is best from all to age.

Read the full of He That Is Down Needs Fear No Fall,

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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