Text From Pages 136 - 138 Of The Book "THE NEW AMPLIFIED PILGRIM'S PROGRESS"
Christian, taking new courage from the Word, resolved to play the man and began to gain new ground. Now the fierceness of this combat no man can imagine. Apollyon belched smoke like a dragon, fiercely roaring and hideously screaming the whole time of the conflict. And oh, what sighs and groans did burst from poor Christian’s heart. Now this violent combat lasted for over half a day, and Christian, because of his wounds, found himself growing weaker and still weaker. Apollyon, seeing opportunity for a kill, began to circle tighter, round and round so as to make Christian dizzy. Then, seizing upon a weak moment, he rushed in like a flood, caught hold of Christian and, with a skill born of centuries of wrestling with flesh and blood, gave him a brutal throw to the ground. This knocked the breath from Christian’s breast and sent his sword skittering just out of reach.
“Aha!” gloated Apollyon, savouring the moment. “No sword! Now shall I show you what I do to traitors!”
Then Apollyon, seeking to prolong and deepen the sufferings of death, pressed himself upon Christian to crush out his life and to smother him with his sulphurous breath.
“Dead man, Graceless,” he fumed hot into his face. “You are a dead man.”
And so it seemed, for Christian could scarcely find air to breathe. And what little air he could suck in was so befouled and sulphurous that it seared his lungs and turned his vision a blurry gray. Seeing that his situation was beyond hope (as did Jacob in his trouble), Christian yielded up his earthly life and committed the keeping of his soul to God. But it was not in God’s plan to lose such a brave pilgrim so early on in his journey. Therefore, as Apollyon arrogantly reached for his last fiery dart, God filled Christian with a new supply of hope and strength. Instantly Christian’s mind and vision cleared, and in good hope he reached out his hand, praying that God would guide it to his sword. Apollyon, already enjoying sure victory, only smirked a lion-lipped grin for the joy of seeing Christian’s hand desperately stretching, scratching, searching, and clawing for his weapon.
“Dead man, sword-seeker,” he hissed hatefully, “nothing but a dead man.” Then Christian touched the haft of his sword with the tip of his finger and felt a new thrill of hope surge through his breast. But, stretch and struggle as he might, his reach still exceeded his grasp. Apollyon, gloating over Christian’s futile efforts, sneered triumphantly and then pressed his entire bone-crushing weight onto Christian’s chest. Hissing and fuming sulphurous breath into his face he taunted Christian, saying, “Your Master has left you to die, Graceless. Your sword lies but half an inch away, and your heavenly Lover leaves it lie. You are a fool!”
Thus did Apollyon seek to send Christian to a hopeless grave. But still, with heaven-born faith, Christian continued to flail about for that precious weapon, so near, and yet, so far.
