The Oxford Methodists

“Your most deserving, queer character, your personal accomplishments, your noble endowments of mind, your little and handsome person, and your most obliging and desirable conversation,—have often been the pleasing subject of our discourse. Often have you been in the thoughts of M. B.” [Miss Betsy?] “which I have curiously observed, when with her alone, by her inward smiles and sighs, and by her abrupt expressions concerning you. Shall this suffice? I caught her this morning in an humble and devout posture on her knees. I must conclude; and subscribe myself your most affectionate friend, and brother I wish I might write,

“Robert Kirkham.”

“When I knew that you were just returned from Worcestershire, where, I suppose, you saw your Varenese” [the pet name of Betsy Kirkham], “I then ceased to wonder at your silence; for the sight of such a woman might well make you forget me. I really have myself a vast respect for her, as I must necessarily have for one that is so dear to you.”

“Poor Mrs. Wilson! I am sorry for the shock her death must have given Sally” [Mrs. Chapone] “whose tenderness must sometimes take place of her wisdom; but I hope when she considers the great advantage her sister, in all probability, will receive by the exchange she has lately made, that she will be reconciled to the loss of a sister that has given her more woe than happiness. Pray, has Mrs. Wilson left any children?”

“I have another piece of news to acquaint you with, which, as it is more strange, will, I hope, be equally agreeable. A little while ago, Bob Kirkham took a fancy into his head, that he would lose no more time and waste no more money; in pursuance of which, he first resolved to breakfast no longer on tea; next, to drink no more ale in an evening, or, however, but to quench his thirst; then to read Greek or Latin from prayers in the morning till noon, and from dinner till five at night. And how much may one imagine he executed of these resolutions? Why, he has left off tea, struck off his drinking acquaintances to a man, given the hours above specified to the Greek Testament and Hugo Grotius, and spent the evenings either by himself or with my brother and me.”

“February 5, 1730.

“Dear Sir,—About seven last night I reached Oxford, and, after having long rested my wearied limbs, went this morning to Bo-Cro, who have exceeded our best wishes. I have just finished my rounds, and perceive it was not for nothing that I came hither before you. Stewart’s papers will not be in London till Monday. He desires you to get the rule of court for him, and let him have it as soon as possible. Coster begs you would call at Mrs. Hannah Ebbins’, upholsterer, in Shadwell Street, near Tower Hill, at the sign of the Flag, and let her know his present condition. She is very rich, he says, and has often told him she would at any time do him whatever service she could.

“Fisher desires you to look into the Gazette, and see whether the estate of John Davies, of Goldington and Ravensden,[4] is to be sold.

“You would do well to buy a few cheap spelling-books if you can meet with any, for they are wanted much at the Castle.

“Comb’s goods were seized last week, and ’tis thought he is gone to London. If he should call on you for what you owe him, put him in mind of paying you, for me, the twelve shillings he owes me. I forgot to tell you that I neglected to call at Mrs. Baxter’s landlord’s. I wish you would bring my picture of Queen Elizabeth to Oxford, as carefully as you can; it is in a large book in your sister’s closet. There is a plan of mine in the box with your linen, which I likewise desire you would bring with you. Pray give my love to Charles, best respects to your brother and sister, and service to Mrs. Berry[5] and Miss Nancy.

“I am, dear sir,

“Your sincere friend, and affectionate humble servant,

“William Morgan.

“Pray don’t forget to inquire for my pocket-book.”

“In the summer of 1730, Mr. Morgan told me he had called at the gaol, to see a man who was condemned for killing his wife; and that, from the talk he had with one of the debtors, he verily believed it would do much good, if any one would be at the pains of now and then speaking with them. This he so frequently repeated, that, on the 24th of August, 1730, my brother and I walked with him to the Castle. We were so well satisfied with our conversation there, that we agreed to go thither once or twice a week; which we had not done long, before he desired me to go with him to see a poor woman in the town, who was sick. In this employment, too, when we came to reflect upon it, we believed it would be worth while to spend an hour or two in a week; provided the minister of the parish, in which any such person was, were not against it. But that we might not depend wholly on our own judgments, I wrote an account to my father of our whole design; withal begging that he, who had lived seventy years in the world, and seen as much of it as most private men have ever done, would advise us whether we had yet gone too far, and whether we should now stand still, or go forward.”

“You have reason to bless God, as I do, that you have so fast a friend as Mr. Morgan, who, I see, in the most difficult service, is ready to break the ice for you. You do not know of how much good that poor wretch, who killed his wife, has been the providential occasion. I think I must adopt Mr. Morgan to be my son, together with you and your brother Charles; and, when I have such a ternion to prosecute that war, wherein I am now miles emeritus, I shall not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies in the gate.”

“In pursuance of these directions, I immediately went to Mr. Gerard, the Bishop of Oxford’s chaplain, who was likewise the person that took care of the prisoners when any were condemned to die (at other times they were left to their own care). I proposed to him our design of serving them as far as we could, and my own intention to preach there once a month, if the bishop approved of it. He much commended our design, and said he would answer for the bishop’s approbation, to whom he would take the first opportunity of mentioning it. It was not long before he informed me that he had done so, and that his lordship not only gave his permission, but was greatly pleased with the undertaking, and hoped it would have the desired success.”[6]

“Upon this encouragement,” writes Wesley, “we still continued to meet together as usual; and to confirm one another, as well as we could, in our resolutions to communicate as often as we had opportunity (which is here once a week); and to do what service we could to our acquaintance, the prisoners, and two or three poor families in the town.”

“The outcry daily increasing, that we might show what ground there was for it, we proposed to our friends or opponents, as we had opportunity, these or the like questions:—

“I. Whether it does not concern all men of all conditions to imitate Him, as much as they can, ‘Who went about doing good’?

“Whether all Christians are not concerned in that command, ‘While we have time, let us do good unto all men’?

“Whether we shall not be more happy hereafter, the more good we do now?

“Whether we can be happy at all hereafter, unless we have, according to our power, ‘fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited those that are sick, and in prison;’ and made all these actions subservient to a higher purpose, even the saving of souls from death?

“Whether it be not our bounden duty always to remember, that He did more for us than we can do for Him, who assures us, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me’?

“II. Whether, upon these considerations, we may not try to do good to our acquaintance? Particularly, whether we may not try to convince them of the necessity of being Christians?

“Whether of the consequent necessity of being scholars?

“Whether of the necessity of method and industry, in order to either learning or virtue?

“Whether we may not try to persuade them to confirm and increase their industry, by communicating as often as they can?

“Whether we may not mention to them the authors whom we conceive to have wrote the best on those subjects?

“Whether we may not assist them, as we are able, from time to time, to form resolutions upon what they read in those authors, and to execute them with steadiness and perseverance?

“III. Whether, upon the considerations above-mentioned, we may not try to do good to those that are hungry, naked, or sick? In particular, whether, if we know any necessitous family, we may not give them a little food, clothes, or physic, as they want?

“Whether we may not give them, if they can read, a Bible, Common Prayer Book, or ‘Whole Duty of Man’?

“Whether, we may not, now and then, inquire how they have used them, explain what they do not understand, and enforce what they do?

“Whether we may not enforce upon them, more especially, the necessity of private prayer, and of frequenting the church and sacrament?

“Whether we may not contribute, what little we are able, toward having their children clothed and taught to read?

“Whether we may not take care that they be taught their catechism, and short prayers for morning and evening?

“IV. Lastly: whether, upon the considerations above-mentioned, we may not try to do good to those that are in prison? In particular, whether we may not release such well-disposed persons as remain in prison for small sums?

“Whether we may not lend smaller sums to those that are of any trade, that they may procure themselves tools and materials to work with?

“Whether we may not give to them who appear to want it most, a little money, or clothes, or physic?

“Whether we may not supply as many as are serious enough to read, with a Bible and a Whole Duty of Man?

“Whether we may not, as we have opportunity, explain and enforce these upon them, especially with respect to public and private prayer, and the blessed sacrament?”[7]

“The poor at the Castle, however, have still the Gospel preached to them, and some of their temporal wants supplied, our little fund rather increasing than diminishing. Nor have we yet been forced to discharge any of the children which Mr. Morgan left to our care: though I wish they too do not find the want of him; I am sure some of their parents will.”[9]

“Before your uncle went to Scarborough, I informed him of what I knew of Mr. Morgan’s case. When he came back, he told me he had tried the spa at Scarborough, and could assure me that it far exceeded all the other spas in Europe, for he had been at them all, both in Germany and elsewhere; that, at Scarborough, there were two springs, as he was informed, close together, which flowed into one basin, the one a chalybeate, the other a purgative water; and he did not believe there was the like in any other part of the world. He said, ‘If that gentleman, you told me of, could by any means be got thither, though his age is the most dangerous time in life for his distemper, yet I am of opinion those waters would cure him.’ I thought good to tell you this, that you might, if you please, inform Mr. Morgan of it.”

“For more than twelve months,” writes Mr. Moore, “he was so greatly reduced, that he became a burden to himself, and totally useless to others. In this stage of his disease, his understanding sometimes appeared deranged; he became more changeable in his temper than usual, and inconsistent in his conversation. But this was purely the effect of his disease; not the least symptom of the kind having ever appeared till long after his health had declined.”

“You cannot conceive what a noise that ridiculous society in which you are engaged has made here. Besides the particulars of the great follies of it at Oxford (which to my great concern I have often heard repeated), it gave me sensible trouble to hear that you were noted for going into the villages about Holt; calling their children together, and teaching them their prayers and catechism, and giving them a shilling at your departure. I could not but advise with a wise, pious, and learned clergyman. He told me that he has known the worst of consequences follow from such blind zeal; and plainly satisfied me that it was a thorough mistake of true piety and religion. I proposed writing to some prudent and good man at Oxford to reason with you on these points, and to convince you that you were in a wrong way. He said, in a generous mind, as he took yours to be, the admonition and advice of a father would make a deeper impression than all the exhortations of others. He concluded, that you were young as yet, and that your judgment was not come to its maturity; but as soon as your judgment improved, and on the advice of a true friend, you would see the error of your way, and think, as he does, that you may walk uprightly and safely, without endeavouring to outdo all the good bishops, clergy, and other pious and good men of the present and past ages: which God Almighty give you grace and sense to understand aright!”[10]

“Dublin, November, 1733.

“My concern about my only son brings the misfortunes of my other son fresh into my mind, and obliges me now to impart to you, and only to you, what I have hitherto concealed from all men, as far as it could be kept secret. After he had spent about six weeks with me in Dublin, the physicians agreed that the air at Oxford was better for his health than the Irish air. I myself was obliged to take a journey with my Lord Primate into his diocese, and on the same day my dear son set out on his journey to England. He rode an easy pad, and was to make easy stages through part of this kingdom, to see some relations in the way, and to take shipping at Cork, from which there is a short passage to Bristol, and from thence the journey is not great to Oxford. He travelled twelve miles the first day, attended by that careful servant who was with him at Oxford. The servant observed him to act and talk lightly and incoherently that day. He slept little or none at night; but often cried out that the house was on fire, and used other wild expressions. The second day he grew worse; threw his bridle over the horse’s head, and would neither guide him himself nor let the man guide him, but charged him to stay behind him, saying God would be his guide. The horse turned about, went in side roads, and then to a disused quarry filled with water, where my poor child fell off, and had then like to be lost, the servant not daring to do but as he bid him. The servant, finding him deprived of all understanding and also outrageous, by great art and management, brought him back to Dublin. Two of our most eminent physicians and the surgeon-general were brought to attend him. An express was sent for me, with whom I hastened back to town. He was put in a room two pairs of stairs high, yet he found an opportunity to run to one of the windows, tore it down though the sashes were nailed, and was more than half out before he could be caught. He was raging mad, and three men were set over him to watch him. By the diction of the physicians, he was threatened with ropes and chains, which were produced to him, and were rattled. In his madness, he used to say, that enthusiasm was his madness; and repeated often, ‘O religious madness.’ He said, they had ‘hindered him being now with God,’ because they had hindered him from throwing himself out of the window. But, in his greatest rage, he never cursed or swore or used any profane expressions. In seven days, God was pleased to take him to Himself; which, no doubt, the blisterings and severities used by the physicians and surgeon for his recovery precipitated.”

“He was a young man of an excellent disposition, and took all opportunities to make his companions in love with a good life; to create in them a reverence for public worship; and to tell them of their faults with a sweetness and simplicity that disarmed the worst tempers. He delighted much in works of charity. He kept several children at school; and when he found beggars in the street, he would bring them into his chambers, and talk to them. Many such things he did; and, being acquainted with Messrs. John and Charles Wesley, he invited them to join with him; and proposed that they should meet frequently to encourage one another, and have some scheme to proceed by in their daily employments. About half a year after I got among them, Mr. Morgan died. His calm and resigned behaviour, hardly curbing in a confident joy in God, wrought very much upon me; though, when I had an opportunity to observe him, he was under a lingering distemper. Some were displeased because he did not make some direct preparation for death; but to a man who has overcome the world, and feels God within him, death is no new thing.”

“Oxon, October 18, 1732.

“On Sunday last, I was informed that my brother and I had killed your son; that the rigorous fasting which he had imposed upon himself, by our advice, had increased his illness and hastened his death. Now though, considering it in itself, ‘it is a very small thing with me to be judged by man’s judgment;’ yet as the being thought guilty of so mischievous an imprudence might make me the less able to do the work I came into the world for, I am obliged to clear myself of it, by observing to you, as I have done to others, that your son left off fasting about a year and a half since; and that it is not yet half a year since I began to practise it.”[11]

“November 25, 1732.

“Rev. Sir,—I give entire credit to everything and every fact you relate. It was ill-judged of my poor son to take to fasting, with regard to his health, of which I knew nothing, or I should have advised him against it. He was inclined to piety and virtue from his infancy. I must own I was much concerned at the strange accounts which were spread here, of some extraordinary practices of a religious society in which he had engaged at Oxford, lest, through his youth and immaturity of judgment, he might be hurried into zeal and enthusiastic notions that would prove pernicious. But now, indeed, the piety and holiness of life which he practised afford me some comfort in the midst of my affliction for the loss of him, having full assurance of his being for ever happy. The good account you are pleased to give of your own and your friends’ conduct, in point of duty and religious offices, and the zealous approbation of them by the good old gentleman your father, reconcile and recommend that method of life to me, and make me almost wish that I were one amongst you.

“I am, with respects to your brother, sir, your most obliged and most obedient humble servant,

“Richard Morgan.”

“I assure you, sir, without any dissimulation or flattery, I rejoice sincerely at the recovery of the good old gentleman, your father.[12] And I really am concerned that the scorners of your university continue so malevolent. I could wish they would rather meet you at least half way in imitation of piety and goodness. I must say that these censures have, in a great measure, ceased here; and I am comforted by my acquaintance telling me that I should [not?] grieve the loss, from the assurance we have of my dear son’s happiness with God, after such a course of piety and godliness as he had engaged in. I pray God to conduct us all to meet together in happiness hereafter. Be assured that you shall never want an advocate in me to defend you against any calumny that I hear you or your friends aspersed with. Pray give my salutations to your good father when you write to him, and to your brother of Christ Church; for I am, with great sincerity, theirs, and, sir, your very affectionate humble servant,

“Richard Morgan.”

“Dublin, November 22nd, 1733.

“Rev. Sir,—I had the favour of yours, and am very thankful for your care and concern about my son, who, I am sure, will observe your advice and directions in everything. I would have him live a sober, virtuous, and religious life, and to go to church and sacrament, according to the statutes and customs of his college; but for young people to pretend to be more pure and holy than the rest of mankind is a dangerous experiment As to charitable subscriptions and contributions, I wholly debar him from making any; because he has not one shilling of his own, but what I give him; and this I appropriate wholly to his maintenance, education, and moderate and inoffensive recreations and pleasures. And, I believe, as a casuist, you will agree with me that it is injustice, and, consequently, sinful, rather than virtuous, to apply my money any other way than as I appropriate it. He must leave me to measure out my own charities, and to distribute them in such manner and proportion as I shall think proper. I hope you will not suspect, from anything I have said, that I intend the least reflection or disrespect to you; for if I did not think very well of you, and had not a great opinion of your conduct and abilities, I should not put my only son under your tuition, which, I think, is the best proof a man can give of his good esteem and opinion of another. I hope I may be excused for being solicitous to prevent my present son’s falling into extremes, which, it is thought, were so prejudicial to my other.

“I sent a bill of £50, by the last post, to Mr. James Huey, merchant, in Aldermanbury, London, with directions to transmit the value to you, which I hope is done. I shall begrudge no money that is for my son’s benefit and advantage. I would have him live as decently as other gentlemen of his station. I am very desirous that he should keep a regular account, that he may attain to a habit of it, knowing the great use and benefit of accounts to all men. I shall depend upon your letting me know when a further supply will be wanting. Pay my respects to your brother, and believe me to be your very affectionate and most humble servant,

“Richard Morgan.”

“To the Rev. John Wesley, Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford.”

“Three years ago, I purchased an office for him in the law; but, I fear, he has read very little of Greek or Latin since, and that he has forgotten a great deal of what he had learned at school; but I don’t think his parts very bad. He was nineteen years of age last July, and is very lusty for his age. I believe he is five feet ten inches high. He has been somewhat gay, and gone to plays and balls; but addicted to no vice. He has often wished rather to be put forward in his learning, than to stick to an office; and I am now inclined to indulge him. If it be advisable to put him in this new way of life, you may be sure I can think of no other for his tutor but yourself.”

“January 14th, 1734.

“Sir,—Going yesterday into your son’s room, I providentially cast my eyes upon a paper that lay upon the table, and, contrary to my custom, read a line or two of it, which soon determined me to read the rest. It was a copy of his last letter to you; whereby, by the signal blessing of God, I came to the knowledge of his real sentiments, both with regard to myself and to several other points of the highest importance.

“In the account he gives of me, and those friends who are as my own soul, are some things true:—as, that we imagine it is our bounden duty to spend our whole lives in the service of Him that gave them; or in other words, ‘Whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do, to do all to the glory of God;’ that we endeavour, as we are able, to relieve the poor, by buying books and other necessaries for them; that some of us read prayers at the prison once a day; that I administer the Sacrament once a month, and preach there as often as I am not engaged elsewhere; that we sit together five evenings in a week; and that we observe, as far as our health will permit, the fasts of the Church.

“Some things are false, but taken upon trust, so that I hope Mr. Morgan believed them true:—as that we almost starve ourselves; that one of us had like lately to have lost his life, by too great abstinence; that we endeavour to reform notorious whores, and to lay spirits in haunted houses; that we rise every day at five o’clock; and that I am president of the Society.

“As strange as it may appear that one present upon the spot should so far vary from the truth in his relation, I can easily account, not only for his mistake, but for his designed misrepresentation too. The company he is almost daily with (from whom indeed I should have divided him, had not your letters, coming in the article of time, tied my hands) abundantly accounts for the former; as his desire to lessen your regard for me, and thereby obviate the force of any future complaint, which he foresaw I might some time hence have occasion to make to you, does for the latter.

“And, indeed, I am not without apprehension that some such occasion may shortly come. I need not describe that apprehension to you. Is there not a cause? Is he not surrounded, even in this recess, with those who are often more pernicious than open libertines? Men who retain something of outward decency, and nothing else; who seriously idle away the whole day, and repeatedly revel till midnight, and if not drunken themselves, yet encouraging and applauding those that are so; who have no more of the form than of the power of godliness, and though they do pretty often drop in at the public prayers, coming after the most solemn part of them is over, yet expressly disown any obligation to attend them. It is true they have not yet laughed your son out of all his diligence; but how long it will be before they have, God knows. They zealously endeavour it at all convenient opportunities; and temporal views are as unable to support him under such an attack, as his slender notions of religion are; of which, he often says, he thinks he shall have enough, if he constantly says his prayers at home and in the chapel. As to my advice on this or any other head, they had secured him pretty well before; and your authority added to theirs; has supplied him with armour of proof against it.

“I now beg to know what you would have me to do? Shall I sit still, and let him swim down the stream? Or shall I plunge in, bound as I am hand and foot, and oppose myself to his company, his inclinations, and his father?

“Why, you say, I am to incite him to live a sober, virtuous, and religious life. Nay, but let me first tell you what religion is. I take religion to be, not the bare saying over so many prayers, morning and evening, in public or in private; not anything superadded now and then to a careless or worldly life; but a constant ruling habit of the soul; a renewal of our minds in the image of God; a recovery of the Divine likeness; a still increasing conformity of heart and life to the pattern of our most Holy Redeemer.

“But if this be religion, if this be the way to life, which our blessed Lord hath marked out for us, how can any one, while he keeps close to this way, be charged with running into extremes? It is true, there is no going out of it, either to the right hand or to the left, without running into an extreme; and, to prevent this, the wisdom of the Church has, in all ages, appointed guides for the unexperienced, lest they should wander into bye-paths and seek death in the error of their life. But while he is in the right way, what fear is there of your son’s going too fast in it?

“I appeal to your experience. Have you observed any such disposition in him, as gives you ground to suspect he will love God too well, or keep himself too ‘unspotted from the world’? Or has his past life been such, as that you have just reason to apprehend the remainder of it should too much resemble that of our blessed Master? I will go further. Have you remarked in the various scenes you have gone through, that youth in general is apt to run into the extreme of piety? Is it to this excess that the fervour of their blood and the impetuosity of their passions hurry them?

“But we may not stop here. Is there any fear, is there any possibility that any son of Adam, of whatever age or degree, should too faithfully do the will of his Creator, or too exactly tread in the steps of his Redeemer? Suppose the time now come when you feel within yourself, that the silver cord of life is loosed, that the dust is returning to the earth as it was, and the spirit unto God who gave it. The snares of death overtake you. Nothing but pain is on the one hand, eternity on the other. The tears of the friends that surround your bed bear witness with the pangs of your own heart, that it has few pulses more to beat before you launch out into the sea without a shore; before the soul shall part from the quivering lips and stand naked before the judgment-seat of God. Will you then be content with having served God according to the custom of the place you were in? Will you regret your having been, even from your youth, more pure and holy than the rest of mankind? Will you complain to the ministering spirits who receive your new-born soul, that you have been over zealous in the love of your Master? Ask not me, a poor, fallible, sinful mortal, never safe either from the snares of ill example or the treachery of my own heart; but ask them,—ask Him who died to make you and me and your son zealous of good works,—whether you may be excused from your solicitude, your too successful solicitude, to prevent his falling into this extreme? How needless has he made that solicitude already! But, I spare you. The good Lord be merciful to us both!

“Think not, sir, that interest occasions the concern I show. I abhor the thought. From the moment my brother told me, ‘Mr. Morgan will be safer with you than me; I have desired him to be sent to you,’ I determined (though I never mentioned it to him) to restore to him whatsoever is paid me upon Mr. Morgan’s account. It is, with regard to me, an accursed thing. There shall no such cleave unto me. I have sufficient motives, without this, to assist your son, so long as he will accept my assistance. He is the brother of my dear friend, the son of one that was my friend till great names warped him from his purpose, and, what is infinitely more, the creature of my God, and the redeemed and fellow-heir of my Saviour.

“That neither the cares of the world nor the fair speeches and venerable titles of any who set up their rest therein, may prevent our attaining our better inheritance, is the earnest prayer of, sir, your most obliged and most obedient servant,

“John Wesley.”

“Richard Morgan, Esq.”[13]

“Mr. Hervey, by his easy and engaging conversation, by letting him see a mind thoroughly serious and happy, where so many of the fine qualities he most esteemed were all gone over into the service of religion, gained Mr. Morgan’s heart to the best purposes.” Gambold adds, “Since Mr. Morgan became that meek, sincere Christian which he now is,” [written about 1736] “he has had a singular affection toward Mr. Wesley, and has run some hazard to be in his company,—a sign that those counsels and wishes, which seemed once to be given in vain, do now take place in him.”

“Mr. Morgan, a gentleman of Lincoln College, Oxford, came up to London to take leave of Mr. Wesley. He was a zealous and sincere Christian and was very earnest with me to go to Georgia. He promised himself to make a journey into Yorkshire to see my mother, and to do what he could towards settling the school. As to having my mother’s consent, he said, If I thought it was God’s will, I must obey my Master, and go wherever I could do Him service, whether my relations were willing or not.”

“September 25, 1735.

“Dear Sir,—I hope this will find you and the rest of our friends well. This morning the Rector sent for me. He told me he had heard I had returned to my former strict way of life, and that he must acquaint my father with it. I desired, he would come to particulars, and said, that where I was wrong I should be glad to be set right. He said, I looked thin, and feared I would hurt myself by rigorous fasting. I told him, I dined in the hall on Wednesdays, and that I eat bread and butter on Friday mornings. He was pretty well satisfied with this account. He advised me to take something else instead of tea after fasting, which I promised to do. His next charge was not sitting in the common room. I said, I intended to sit there three nights every week, which he thought was sufficient. I unguardedly told him that, if it were agreeable to him, I would dine in the hall even on Fridays. He very much approved of this proposal, and said, I might observe any other day as a fast instead of it. I believe, if I would go into the hall on fast days, all my other actions would be less taken notice of, and I should put it out of the Rector’s or Mr. Hutchin’s power to make any complaints of me to my father. If I could be sure of not injuring religion by my example, I believe I might comply with the Rector herein, for, you are very sensible, I might notwithstanding observe the same degree of abstinence even on those days. I depend on the advice of my friends in this affair, and hope God will sanctify it to me. The Gospel tells us, that the children of God must suffer persecution from the world; but the Rector says, we must endeavour to have our persons in esteem, and those things wherein we differ from the world we must do privately. We must take care our good be not evil spoken of. Though the Church enjoins fasting, yet, because the bishops, the pillars of the Church, do not observe it, it loses its force. When he finds his blood hot, he says, he fasts, but unknown to anybody. He thinks it is a relative duty, and not confined to any particular time. He looks upon it only as a remedy against unchastity, and, if we are not troubled with this passion, I suppose, not obligatory. He advised me to read such books as were genteel accomplishments. I have, through God’s assistance, in some degree, seen my own weakness, by the effects of this anti-Christian doctrine, for it has quite discomposed me, though I was enabled to see the fallacy of it. I see nothing so well qualified to destroy my soul, to make me eternally miserable, as the conversation of temporizing Christians, which, I hope, by your advice and other means, God will prevent, as I am sure He will, if I am faithful to Him.

“When I desire your advice in this affair, I only desire you to prevent my eternal damnation; for it is in the greatest danger from this most subtle, deceitful, and dangerous of all enemies. Oh that I could express to you the danger I foresee from this enemy! My eyes and my heart alone could; but these you cannot see. May God enable you to comprehend it, and to do all that is in your power to prevent it! You cannot sufficiently arm me against the Rector. I suspect him of insincerity to you. I want to know whether you ever did. I believe, and Mr. Horn is of the same opinion, that my going to Ireland depends on my going into the hall on fast days. The Rector said as much as if you frightened others from religion by your example; and that you might have done a great deal of good, if you had been less strict, which I would be glad to be undeceived in, and to know whether the example of a thorough mortified Christian, though it would give the greatest offence, would not do more than that of a plausible Christian, who would give no offence at all. This is a point of great importance to me.

“It has pleased God to let me see that I can make no progress in religion till I have acquired some sense of the misery and nothingness of human nature, and of our entire dependence on Him. Though I go into the common room to avoid a greater evil,—though I would not live the life of those who spend their time there for all the world,—though I am scarcely capable of doing anything which is more disagreeable to me,—yet the poison is not removed. While I am with them, I love my sense, my judgment, my reason. It is true, I am all the time in pain; but I cannot say, at that time, they lead an un-Christian, dangerous life. I believe it is for want of faith, and for not looking upon it as a great blessing, since it is not my own choice. I want to know how to remove this delusion, and how to make an advantage of that which God no doubt intended for my good. If I do not make a use of this cross, I am satisfied it will be the ruin of me.

“Oh lay this to your heart, and make my case your own. Do not think you can spend your time better than in answering this letter. I hope you will not forget to pray to God to enable me to follow you wherever it is His will, and never to omit putting me in mind of it when you write to me.

“Mr. Robson is in a dangerous way. He is convinced of the necessity of being a Christian, but cannot leave the world. Mr. Carter, I fear, is not steady. Mr. Hervey is gone. Mr. Broughton is not yet returned. If he go to Georgia, it is best.”

“On April 20, 1732, Mr. Clayton meeting me in the street, and giving Mr. Rivington’s[17] service, I desired his company to my room, and then commenced our acquaintance. At the first opportunity, I acquainted him with our whole design, which he immediately and heartily closed with; and, not long after, (Mr. Morgan having then left Oxford,) we fixed two evenings in a week to meet on, partly to talk on that subject, and partly to read something in practical divinity. The two points whereunto, by the blessing of God, we had before attained, we endeavoured to hold fast: I mean, the doing what good we can; and, in order thereto, communicating as often as we have opportunity. To these, by the advice of Mr. Clayton, we added a third,—the observing the fasts of the Church; the general neglect of which we can by no means apprehend to be a lawful excuse for neglecting them. And in the resolution to adhere to these and all things else, which we are convinced God requires at our hands, we trust we shall persevere till He calls us to give an account of our stewardship. As for the names of Methodists, Supererogation-men, and so on, with which some of our neighbours are pleased to compliment us, we do not conceive ourselves to be under any obligation to regard them, much less to take them for arguments. ‘To the law and to the testimony’ we appeal, whereby we ought to be judged. If by these it can be proved we are in error, we will immediately and gladly retract it: if not, we ‘have not so learned Christ,’ as to renounce any part of His service, though men should ‘say all manner of evil against us,’ with more judgment and as little truth as hitherto. We do, indeed, use all the lawful means we know to prevent ‘the good which is in us’ from being ‘evil spoken of:’ but if the neglect of known duties be the one condition of securing our reputation, why, fare it well; we know whom we have believed, and what we thus lay out He will pay us again.”[18]

“Oxon, August 1, 1732.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—Excuse me for not interrupting you from attending to the noble work you have taken in hand, whilst I give you an account of the present state of our affairs at Oxford.

“I cannot but think it an extraordinary piece of Providence that, when we had lost our best advocate and patron, all opposition against us should immediately cease; for, since you left us, nobody has thought it worth while to attack either Mr. Smith or me,[20] or to endeavour to remove us from those principles wherein you, by the grace of God, have fixed us. I have gone every day to Lincoln, big with expectation to hear of some mighty attack made upon Mr. Smith; but, I thank God, I have always been disappointed; for not one of the Fellows has once so much as tried to shake him, or to convert him from the right way, wherein, I hope, he at present walks. Indeed, on Sunday, he met with a rub from Mr. Veesy, who refused to read Prayers for him in your chapel, for fear of contributing anything to his going to Christ Church. But Mr. Smith had the heart to desire that favour of the Rector which Mr. Veesy had denied him, who immediately promised to read for him, and encouraged him to proceed in the way he was in, and, if possible, to make further progress in virtue and holiness. He goes out of town to-morrow morning, and so will be entirely out of danger from the Fellows of Lincoln. We had conversation this morning, whilst we were at breakfast together, concerning the temptations which may arise from strange company and travelling; and Mr. Smith seems to be fore-armed against, and determined to oppose them to the utmost of his power. He joins with me in best respects to your brother and you, and desires you won’t forget to send the bands and the poems you promised him.

“Poor Mr. Clements[21] is still recovering. He was with me last night two hours, but I doubt to no purpose.

“My little flock[22] at Brazenose are, God be praised, true to their principles, and I hope to themselves too.

“Bocardo,[23] I fear, grows worse upon my hands. They have done nothing but quarrel ever since you left us; and they carried matters so high on Saturday, that the bailiffs were sent for, who ordered Tomlyns to be fettered and put in the dungeon, where he lay some hours, and then, upon promise of his good behaviour, was released again. He has been much better ever since that time, and I hope will be better for it all his lifetime. Wisdom has never been to hear me read, notwithstanding his promise. I sent for him yesterday, but he would not come down; and when I had done reading, I went upstairs to him, and upbraided him with breaking his promise, upon which he very easily replied, that he had thought better of it since he had seen me, and was determined never to come near Blair, lest his indignation should rise at the sight of him.

“The Castle is, I thank God, in much better condition. All the felons were acquitted, except Salmon, who is referred to be tried at Warwick, to our great disappointment,—and the sheep-stealer, who is burnt in the hand, and who, I verily believe, is a great penitent. I got Mrs. Jopping a copy of her son’s indictment at the assizes, which has made her mighty easy ever since; and she is now endeavouring to bring her mind into a due frame for the devout participation of the holy communion on Sunday next. Jempro is discharged, and I have appointed Harris to read to the prisoners in his stead. Two of the felons likewise have paid their fees, and are gone out, both of them able to read mighty well. There are only two in the jail who want this accomplishment,—John Clanvills, who reads but moderately, and the horse-stealer, who cannot read at all. He knows all his letters, however, and can spell most of the common monosyllables. I hear them both read three times a week, and I believe Salmon hears them so many times a day.

“One of my college scholars has left me, but the others go on mighty well. The woman, who was a perfect novice, spells tolerably, and so does one of the boys, and the others make shift to read with spelling every word that is longer than ordinary. The boys can both say their Catechism as far as the end of the Commandments, and can likewise repeat the morning and evening prayers for children in ‘Ken’s Manual.’

“Mrs. Tireby has been very ill this last week, so that she has made no great proficiency. I am to go down at six o’clock to hear the determination of a meeting of St. Thomas’s parish, respecting separating Bossum and his wife. When I had promised to give a crown towards clothing the woman, and the overseer had determined to take her in upon that condition, the churchwarden would needs have him try to put the man upon me too, to get a crown towards clothing him; but, as he is able to work for his living, I don’t think him a proper object for charity; nor can I at this time afford to do anything for him, because I am apprehensive that I must be forced to contribute to Salmon’s relief, who will want near twenty shillings to subpœna proper witnesses to Warwick at his trial; and I cannot but think it a much greater act of charity to relieve a suffering innocent than to relieve an idle beggar.

“I have been twice at the school,—namely on Tuesday and Saturday last, and intend to go again as soon as I have finished this letter. The children all go on pretty well, except Jervaise’s boy, who, I find, truants till eleven o’clock in a morning. I threatened the boy what we would do to him if ever he truanted any more, and he has promised (as all children do) that he will do so no more; nay, his mother assures me that she will take care for the future that he shall not. I got a shilling for her from our Vice Principal, and gave her sixpence myself, to preserve the gown that is in pawn from being sold; and the woman who has it promised not to sell it, provided Jervaise will bring her sixpence a week towards redeeming it.

“I have obtained leave to go to St. Thomas’s workhouse twice a week; and, indeed, I cannot but hope it will be a noble field of improvement. I am sure the people stand much in need of instruction, for there is hardly a soul that can read in the whole house, and those that can, don’t understand one word of what they read.

“I think I have nothing further to add about our affairs; only I must beg the favour of you, if you can conveniently, to pay Mr. Rivington thirty shillings for my use, and I will repay it when you come to Oxford. Pray don’t forget a few Common Prayer Books for the Castle.

“You cannot imagine the pleasure it is to me to know that you are engaged every morning in prayer for me. I wish for nine o’clock more eagerly than ever I did before, and I think I begin to perceive what is meant by that union of souls which is so much talked of in Père Malebranche and Madam Bourignon, which I never understood before. Good sir, continue your prayers for me, for I feel that I am benefited by them.

“I do not envy you the happiness, which I know you will have from the conversation of so many pious men as you will meet with in London, because I assure myself that I shall have the benefit of it when I have the pleasure to see you again at Oxford.

“Mr. Hall is not yet come home, so that I am pretty much taken up amongst the poor people and the prisoners, and have not yet had time to consider of any improvements or additions to be made to the list of books for our pupils.

“I thank God that I have fully conquered my affection for a morning’s nap, and rise constantly by five o’clock at the farthest, and have the pleasure to see myself imitated by the greatest part of my pupils. I have talked with Mr. Clements, and I hope have made him a proselyte to early rising, though I cannot to constant communion.

“Pray God prosper all those designs you have undertaken of doing good at London, and send you a good journey to Oxford.

“I am, rev. and dear sir, your most affectionate friend, and most obliged humble servant,

“J. Clayton.”

“I hope you will not forget to pay my due compliments to Sir John Philips, Mr. Wogan, and all my other good friends.

“To the Rev. Mr. John Wesley. To be left with Mr. Rivington, bookseller, in St Paul’s Churchyard, London.”

“There are three points to which these gentlemen think themselves obliged to adhere:—1. That of visiting and relieving the prisoners and the sick, and giving away Bibles, Common Prayer Books, and the ‘Whole Duty of Man’; and of explaining the Catechism to the children of poor families, and of dropping a shilling or so to such families where they deem it needful. 2. That of weekly communion. 3. That of observing strictly the fasts of the Church, which has caused some to call them ‘Supererogation Men.’”

“1733, June 13th.

“The effects of my last journey, I believe, will make me more cautious of staying any time from Oxford for the future. One of my pupils told me at my return, that he was more and more afraid of singularity; and another, that he had read an excellent piece of Mr. Locke’s, which had convinced him of the mischief of regarding authority. Our seven and twenty communicants at St. Mary’s were on Monday shrunk to five; and the day before, the last of Mr. Clayton’s pupils who continued with us, informed me that he did not design to meet us any more.”[24]

“July, 1733.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—I have been thinking upon the two points which you proposed to my consideration in your last, and must acknowledge myself to be utterly unable to form any judgment upon them which will be serviceable to you.

“My own rule is to spend an hour every Friday in looking over my diary,[25] and observing the difference between it and the preceding week; after which, I examine the resolutions set down in the account of my last weekly examination, and inquire how I have kept them, and then see what others are necessary to be formed, which I write down at the end of my diary for every week, that so they may be materials for my subsequent examination.

“As to your question about Saturday,[26] can only answer it by giving an account how I spend it. I do not look upon it as a preparation for Sunday, but as a festival itself; and, therefore, I have continued festival prayer for the three primitive hours, and for morning and evening, from the Apostolical Constitutions, which, I think, I communicated to you whilst at Oxford. I look upon Friday as my preparation for the celebration of both the Sabbath and the Lord’s-day; the first of which I observe much like a common saint’s day, or as one of the inferior holidays of the Church. I bless God, I have generally contrived to have the Eucharist celebrated on Saturdays as well as other holidays, for the use of myself and the sick people whom I visit.

“Dr. Deacon[27] gives his humble service to you, and lets you know that the worship and discipline of the primitive Christians have taken up so much of his time, that he has never read the Fathers with a particular view to their moral doctrines, and therefore cannot furnish you with the testimonies you want out of his collection. However, if you will give me a month’s time, I will try what I can do for you. I have made some progress in the earliest authors, and should have made more had I not been interrupted; first, with the public ceremony of the bishop’s triennial visitation; and, secondly, with the blessing of a visit which the truly primitive Bishop of Man made to our town; with both which affairs the clergy have been almost wholly taken up for a week.

“I was at Dr. Deacon’s when your letter came to hand; and we had a deal of talk about your scheme of avowing yourselves a society, and fixing upon a set of rules. The doctor seemed to think you had better let it alone; for to what end would it serve? It would be an additional tie upon yourselves, and perhaps a snare for the consciences of those weak brethren that might chance to come among you. Observing the Stations[28] and weekly communion are duties which stand upon a much higher footing than a rule of a Society; and they, who can set aside the command of God and the authority of His Church, will hardly, I doubt, be tied by the rules of a private Society.

“As to the mixture, Mr. Colly told me he would assure me it was constantly used at Christ Church. However, if you have reason to doubt it, I would have you to inquire; but I cannot think the want of it a reason for not communicating. If I could receive where the mixture was used, I would; and, therefore, I used to prefer the Castle to Christ Church; but, if not, I should not think myself any further concerned in the matter than as it might be some way or other in my power to get it restored.[29]

“Pray be so kind as to call on Mr. Hollins, head of our college, for four pictures of mine, namely, ‘Whitechapel Altar-piece,’ ‘Mary Magdalene,’ and our two founders; and get them sent up, by any convenient opportunity, to Mr. Rivington, who will send them down to me.

“My best respects attend your brother. I must beg the favour of him to give himself the trouble of writing out the hymns to ‘God the Father and God the Son,’ for me. A person of quality, Lady Catherine Gray, borrowed mine, and has lost them.

“I am, dear sir, your most affectionate friend and servant,

“J. Clayton.”

“Manchester, September 10, 1733.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—I was last week at Dr. Lever’s, where I but narrowly missed of seeing Mr. Brooke, of our college, who came the evening after I left Alkrington. I saw Dr. Lever to-day, who joins with me in sincere respects to your brother and yourself. His new dignity and his being put in Commission of the Peace, have, at present, quite unfitted him for serious talk; and, therefore, I must wait for a more favourable opportunity of pressing those virtues, which you first convinced him of the necessity of.

“Dr. Deacon tells me, that, he had no view in fixing the Psalms for common days; but, after reading your letter, is convinced of the expediency of serving any of those three ends you mention. The feasts and the fasts were the days he principally regarded; but he would take it as a favour from you if you would communicate to me any improvements you may possibly make in it. He thinks your third rule would be most expedient,—namely, to put together such psalms as best explain and illustrate each other. And he knows not but that on this scheme the proper psalms for festivals and fasts may be more advantageously fixed, by transposing some from the first, second, and other Sundays, etc., to those which have psalms which better answer them. He will consider this point as soon as he has leisure, but desires, in the meantime, that you would let us know your thoughts upon the matter, because his order for reading the Psalter is likely soon to see the light, being to be published with a collection of Primitive Devotions, both public and private, which is even now in the press.[30]

“Poor Miss Potter![31] I wonder not that she is fallen. Where humility is not the foundation, the superstructure cannot be good. And, yet, I am sorry to hear the tidings of her, especially that she has a great man for her confessor, who dissuades her from constant communion. I am sure, she has great occasion to use all the means of grace, which Providence provides for her, and hope that God will in time open her eyes to see the great need she has of help from above. I would not persuade you to leave off reading with her. Who knows whether you may not raise her again to the eminence from which she has fallen? At least, though she neglect the weightier matters of the law, yet keep up in her that reverend respect she bears it, even by the tithing of ‘mint, anise, and cummin.’

“As to reading the ancients, I fancy ‘Cotelerii[32] Biblioth. Patrum Apostol.’ would be the best book to begin with; for, though I will not say, that, all the works there contained are genuine, yet I dare avow them to be very ancient, and to contain the primitive doctrine and discipline of the Church, though published under feigned names. You will find a dissertation upon every work, which contains the several testimonies of Fathers and Councils, whereby the authority is confirmed; and, according to the evidence produced, you must judge of the authenticity of the several pieces. The Epistles of St. Clement are universally owned to be his; and so are the smaller Epistles of St. Ignatius; and, indeed, I think, Whiston, in his ‘Primitive Christianity,’ has urged such arguments in defence of the larger as can never be answered. St. Barnabas’s Epistle, and Hermas’s Pastor are works of the Apostolic age, as may be proved by the internal characters both of language and doctrine, whether they be the works of the venerable authors they are ascribed to or not. The Apostolical Canons are learnedly defended by Bishop Beveridge, and they sufficiently vindicate the Constitutions.[33] The Recognitions[34] of Clement are generally reckoned the most modern piece in these two volumes, but they are really a most admirable work.

“And now for the last page of your letter. I would answer it; and, yet, for my unworthiness, I dare not,—for my ignorance, I cannot. How shall I direct my instructor in the school of Christ? Or teach you, who am but a babe in religion? However, I must be free to tell you my sentiments of what you inquire about. On Wednesday and Friday, I have, for some time, used the Office for Passion week out of ‘Spinckes’[35] Devotions,’ and bless God for it. I found it very useful to excite in me that love of God, and sorrow for having offended Him, which makes up the first great branch of repentance. You know it consists of meditations on our Saviour’s life, all the meditations being joined with proper devotions. I could only wish, I was provided with two such Offices, one for Wednesday, and the other for Friday.

“Refer your last question to Mr. Law. I dare not give directions for spending that time which I consume in bed, nor teach you, who rise at four, when I indulge myself in sleep till five.

“Dear Sir, pray for me that I may press forward in the paths of perfection, and, at length, attain the land of everlasting life. Adieu!

“John Clayton.”

“I believe you will see a young gentleman of my acquaintance, who is a very pious man, but who greatly stands in need of Christian prudence to direct him. In particular, with regard to his conduct towards his parents, his religion sometimes seems to savour of self. Will you instruct and save him?”

“They think the Decretals are the very dregs of Popery; and that the Canons of 1603, are as grossly wicked as absurd. They think—1. That, the spirit which they breathe is, throughout, truly Popish and anti-Christian. 2. That, nothing can be more diabolical than the ipso facto excommunication so often denounced therein. 3. That, the whole method of executing these Canons, the process used in our Spiritual Courts, is too bad to be tolerated (not in a Christian, but) in a Mahometan or Pagan nation.”[36]

“To open the state of my soul to you, or any of our clergy, is what I have no inclination to at present; and, I believe, I never shall. I shall not put my conscience under the direction of mortal man, frail as myself. To my own Master I stand or fall. Nay, I scruple not to say, that all such desire in you, or any other ecclesiastic, seems to me like church tyranny, and assuming to yourselves a dominion over your fellow-creatures, which was never designed you by God.... I farther own, that, I do not hold frequent communion necessary to salvation, nor a means of Christian perfection. But do not mistake my meaning: I only think communing every Sunday, or very frequently, lessens our veneration for that sacred ordinance; and, consequently, our profiting by it.”

“If drunkards, swearers, and debauchers were constantly brought to justice, it would doubtless lessen the number of criminals, and abate the commonness of the vices. Many a poor family would be rescued from beggary and starving, were the drunken, idle master of it properly corrected. Besides, this strict execution of the penal laws against these lesser crimes, would be a most probable means of preserving us from those more dreadful vices of perjury, robbery, and murder; and would make sanguinary laws less needful, and capital punishments less frequent; for experience teaches us that vice, as well as virtue, is of a progressive nature” (p. 15).

“The fountain from which the Magistrate draws his power, for the punishment of wickedness and vice, is none other but God himself. All power, whether spiritual or temporal, is originally derived from the Supreme Monarch of the world, who is King of kings, and Lord of lords. Since, therefore, every Power, whether it be supreme or subordinate, does primarily and originally derive all its authority from above, surely the gift of God ought to be used to His honour and glory. Authority is a sacred thing, of divine original, and, therefore, as it may not be resisted by subjects without danger of damnation, so neither may it be lightly neglected, nor wantonly misapplied by those entrusted with it; lest they provoke that God to anger, who putteth down one Ruler, and setteth up another” (p. 17).

“Wickedness is grown to such a head in the world,—immorality and profaneness are become so epidemical among us, that, it is much to be feared, nothing but discipline and wholesome rigour can prove a cure for it. The infection of vice is extended so far and wide, and the contagion of sin spreads so prodigiously fast, that it seems necessary to use severe methods towards the corrupted parts, if we hope either to recover them, or to save those that are as yet untouched with the disease. God knows, the flagrant impiety of our days, the excessive corruption of these dregs of time,—this rust of the iron age, into which we are fallen,—is such as every good man must complain of, and for which charity itself can find no sufficient excuse or extenuation” (p. 7).

“1738. March 15. I set out” (from Oxford) “for Manchester, with Mr. Kinchin, Fellow of Corpus Christi, and Mr. Fox, late a prisoner in the city prison. Friday, the 17th, we spent entirely with Mr. Clayton, by whom, and the rest of our friends here, we were much refreshed and strengthened. Mr. Hoole, the Rector of St. Ann’s church, being taken ill the next day, on Sunday, 19th, Mr. Kinchin and I officiated at Salford chapel in the morning, by which means Mr. Clayton was at liberty to perform the service of St. Ann’s; and, in the afternoon, I preached there on those words of St Paul, ‘If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature.’”[38]

“1738. May 24. In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was reading Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation; and an assurance was given me, that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.”[40]

“1756. Tuesday, October 26. My former friend, Mr. Clayton, read the prayers at the Old Church, with great solemnity.” “Saturday, October 30. I dined with my candid friend and censor, Dr. Byrom. I stood close to Mr. Clayton in church (as all the week past), but not a look would he cast towards me;

and so faithfully did he keep his covenant with his eyes, not to look upon an old friend when called a Methodist.”

“Last Thursday, about five in the morning, the heads of Thomas Siddal and Thomas Deacon were fixed upon the Exchange. Great numbers have been to view them; and yesterday, betwixt eight and nine, Dr. Deacon, a non-juring priest, and father to one of them, made a full stop near the Exchange, pulled off his hat, and made a bow to them with great reverence. He afterwards stood some time looking at them. A gentleman of the town was with him, and a considerable number of spectators were present. He and some of his flock have been seen to do so before several times.”

“The two rebel heads are revered, and almost adored, as trophies of martyrdom. The father of one of them (who is a non-juring bishop), as he passes by, frequently pulls off his hat, and looks at them above a minute, with a solemn, complacential silence. Some suppose, he offers up a prayer for them; others, to them. His church daily increases, and he is in the highest credit and intimacy with the most of our clergy.”

“I cannot find above a score, and those of no great figure or substance, who are partakers with him in his religious singularity. Besides, what connection is there between politics and the Doctor’s restoring primitive ecclesiastical usages? What has the mixt-cup, infant communion, trine-immersion, etc., to do with King George and the Pretender?”

“The Doctor, I own, is respected by most of the clergy; and, I will add, by most of the laity too; but what then? I could name in turn several rigid Dissenters in the highest credit and intimacy with some of our clergy; and, if it be wrong (which is indeed a new doctrine to me) for the clergy to respect and converse with persons of different opinions in religion, I think the character of a clergyman of the Church of England in much less danger from his acquaintance with a non-juring bishop than with a Calvinistical Dissenter.”

“I have not adopted the political principles of indefeasible and hereditary right into my religion, and make these an essential part of it; and that none can become members of the Church to which I belong, that are not enemies to the present government. I do hereby declare that the same is utterly false. I adopt no political principles into my religion but what are expressed in our own Common Prayer Book, entitled, “A Compleat Collection of Devotions.”

“If you are the loyal people you represent yourselves to be, whence happens it that there has been such a flush of joy, discovered by your friends, for a little, seditious priest, by virtue of the Act of Indemnity, escaping that justice which was upon the wing to pursue him? Whence was it that the bells rang on the occasion for days together? Was it not by way of grateful Te Deum, for the great and undeserved deliverance? Whence was it that this,—shall I call him Reverend Teacher of Babes,—has such numbers of his young fry, as I am informed he has, clad in the livery of rebellion? Is it not to convince the world that there is no heresy in Scotch plaid, when wore only as a badge of Romish superstition? It must be so, unless you can believe,—and believe it who can!—that plaid, politics, and popery are this gentleman’s aversion.”

“If in any passage of the following Address, the Poor may seem to be treated with rigour, let it not be censured as proceeding from sourness and severity of temper; but be considered as a proof, that the author is in earnest, and desirous of recommending this Tract to the serious unprejudiced consideration of his readers. He has upon all proper occasions shown himself ready to plead the cause of the poor and needy; and, therefore, hopes he may be considered as still walking charitably, though he does, with all plainness of speech and befitting Christian liberty, rebuke that spirit of laziness, luxury, and mismanagement, which is gone out into the world, and which particularly reigns amongst the poor of this town, and to which, in a great measure, all their miseries are owing.”

“With such variety of manufactures, as, one would think, might furnish every one, that is able and willing to work, with employment and sustenance. Nay, there are many branches of business that require so little skill or labour, as that neither children nor old people need to be totally excluded from their share of them; so that a numerous family,—that common occasion of distress,—far from being a burden here, seems rather to be a blessing to its master; for most of the members of it, if properly managed, are able to get their livelihood; and, by the overplus of their gains, may contribute to maintain the impotent part of the household.”

“Many of the poor, however, refuse or neglect to help themselves, and thereby disable their betters from effectually helping them. They have an abject mind, which entails their miseries upon them; a mean, sordid spirit, which prevents all attempts of bettering their condition. They are so familiarized to filth and rags, as renders them in a manner natural; and have so little sense of decency, as hardly to allow a wish for it a place in their hearts.”

“We cannot walk the streets without being annoyed with such filth as is a public nuisance; as well as seeing such objects as provoke resentment and aversion. We are grown infamous for a general want of good manners in our populace; and no wonder, because they are bred up in such habits of nastiness, as, in a manner, break through the ties of natural modesty, and set them beyond all sense of shame. The streets are no better than a common dunghill; and more sacred places are most shamefully polluted. Our very church-yards are profaned with such filth as was once intended to create a detestation and abhorrence even of idol temples;—I mean they are rendered no better than errant draught-houses. Common decency will not allow me to be more particular upon so loathsome a subject; and, if enough is said to be understood, it is to be hoped it will effect a reformation.”

“1747, May 7.—We came to Manchester between one and two. I had no thought of preaching here, till I was informed, John Nelson had given public notice, that I would preach at one o’clock. Their house would not contain a tenth part of the people; and how the unbroken spirits of so large a town would endure preaching in the street, I knew not. But after considering, that, I was not going a warfare at my own cost, I walked strait to Salford Cross. A numberless crowd of people partly ran before, partly followed after me. I thought it best not to sing, but, looking round; asked abruptly, ‘Why do you look as if you had never seen me before? Many of you have seen me in the neighbouring church, both preaching and administering the sacrament.’ I then began, ‘Seek ye the Lord while He may be found; call upon Him while He is near.’ None interrupted at all or made any disturbance, till, as I was drawing to a conclusion, a big man thrust in, with three or four more, and bade them bring out the engine. Our friends desired me to remove into a yard just by, which I did, and concluded in peace.”

“1752, March 27.—Being Good Friday, I went to the Old Church, where Mr. Clayton read Prayers; I think the most distinctly, solemnly, and gracefully of any man I ever heard; and the behaviour of the whole congregation was serious and solemn in every part of the service. But I was surprised to see such a change in the greater part of them, as soon as the sacrament was over. They were then bowing, courtesying, and talking to each other, just as if they were going from a play.”

“1755, April 9.—In the evening I preached at Manchester. The mob was tolerably quiet as long as I was speaking, but immediately after raged horribly. This, I find, has been their manner for some time. No wonder; since the good justices encourage them.”

“Osset, February 27th, 1734.

“Honoured Sir,—I meet with many cases of conscience in the country, though I can find no casuist to solve them. I did not altogether know the advantage of living at Oxford so well before as I do now. They that have it in their power to reside there, are wise if they do so. To act well in the country, requires more knowledge, prudence, and a great deal more zeal. It is scarce possible to imagine how wicked the world is. The generality are dead in trespasses and sins. Even those who would pass for good Christians, are sunk deep in a dead indifference. Sincerity is as rare as a black swan. Since I left your good brother, I have only met with one person that is in good earnest for heaven, except that poor rug-maker. God, indeed, is chief in his heart. The most wholesome discipline and best discourses have no effect upon most people. They are no more moved and concerned than a stone. Reflecting frequently on this, has confirmed my belief of an election of grace. I should be glad to know your thoughts on the subject at a convenient opportunity.

“Since my coming into the country, I have frequently been much affected with lively meetings; which has compensated me much, and made me easy and cheerful. What dejects me most is when I lie long, or am idle, or in company where I can do no good. I desire to know how I ought to act when I am in company with superiors, who talk only about trifles. Alas! Sir, I am vastly deficient in this singularity, which is a material point; though, blessed be God! I have now a footman to call me, who visits me early, so that I hope to mend.

“I have methodized my time according to the following scheme. Suppose I rise at five, or sooner, I spend till six in devotion,—repeating a hymn, and chanting a psalm, then praying and reading the Holy Scriptures. At six, Christian treatises. At seven, we breakfast. I then get a lesson out of the New Testament, then a Collect, and most of the Common Prayer. Then forty-two poor children come to me to read. I propose to observe the three ancient hours of prayer when at home. From nine to eleven, I read in the Greek Testament, according to Frank’s. At eleven, I go to teach the rug-maker’s children to read. Twelve, dine; read Morris’s ‘Shorthand.’ Two, Greek Testament. Four, walk. Five, devotion. Six, Monday, I choose the subject beforehand. Seven, supper; and read Milton and other religious books with the family. Nine, pray for myself and friends. On Wednesday and Friday, from eight to nine, meditate on my sins; twelve to one, on Christ’s sufferings; two to three, read Morris. On Sunday, spend two hours in reading with the family or some poor neighbours.

“I shall readily submit to your better directions. Supposing a friend to visit me on a stationary day,[52] how must I behave myself? In eating and drinking, should I confine myself to such a quantity, when with strangers? Your directions in these cases will be very useful.

“My hearty love to your brother, and all friends. I have received a letter from Mr. Smith. He says he will acquaint his tutor with all his concerns. I design shortly to write to Mr. Ford and Watson. I earnestly desire the hearty prayers of all friends.

“From your most obliged and affectionate friend and servant,

“B. Ingham.”

“Osset, November 30, 1734.

“Rev. Sir,—Such is the wretchedness of my station at present, that, if I durst, shame would persuade me to conceal it from my best friends. God, of His great goodness, has been pleased to chastise me, for my sins, with an ague. I am afraid, I shall make but a very indifferent use of this Fatherly correction. It may justly be expected that I should be more dead to the world, and filled with more fervent longings and thirstings after God; that my diligence would have been quickened, and my devotion inflamed. But, alas! sir, I am become more sensual, more indulgent, and more subject to vanity. To early prayer I am now a stranger. I think it well to rise at seven. In my sickness, my thoughts, for the most part, were monstrous and trifling. I would fain make my distemper an excuse; and, though it weakened my body, it is strange that it should disorder my soul. To give you one instance of my weakness: When I was pretty well recovered, I could not deny myself so much as to walk out for my health; and yet, with but little persuasion, I went several times a shooting. Nay, I thought it necessary, though I had renounced it. But it pleased God graciously to let my distemper relapse, which took away the power, though not the desire of going.

“At present, I keep altogether at home, scarcely stirring out of doors. My eyes are weak; yet I am in a fair way of recovering my bodily health. The only thing in which I have not been much deficient, is in teaching the children, and conversing at night with the neighbours, when able to do it. And, indeed, this has been a means of saving myself from utterly sinking. God hath been pleased to bless my weak endeavours with pretty good success; and, I find, that, He manifests the effects when we least expect it, hereby telling us that not our endeavours, but His Almighty arm doth the work.

“The honest rugmaker makes very slow advances in learning. I think to dissuade him from it, unless you advise me to the contrary.

“My sister proceeds excellently, and, by her example, provokes me to what otherwise I should not do.

“I desire you to resolve me: Will it be lawful to sell a thing above its worth, purely because the buyer hath a desire of it? Also, whether it be convenient or lawful for a Christian to dwell with a Quaker when under no necessity? Also, whether persons ought to eat, or openly declare they fast, when no necessity puts them upon it?

“Dear Sir, let me beg your earnest prayers for your unworthy, most obliged Friend and Servant,

“B. Ingham.

“My love to your good brother, etc.

“I have heard from Mr. Burton. Mr. Wogan joins with him in service to you and your brother. He expects to return by Oxford about Christmas. They were indifferently in health. If I recover my health perfectly, would you advise me to visit Mr. Clayton before I return to Oxford? Our family send their service.

“For the Rev. Mr. John Wesley,

“Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxon.”

“Mr. Lisson’s, George Yard, Snow Hill, London, June 17, 1735.

“Rev. Sir,—The chief intent of this is to express my respect and gratitude to you, and dear Mr. Charles, as at your departure from Oxford there might seem to be some indifference between us; but, according to the old saying, Amantium irae amoris redintegratio est; my affections have the more inflamed since that, and I have often thought of writing to inform you of it, but hitherto have delayed. I have reason to believe you have met with a variety of trials at Epworth, and I have heard you evil spoken of abroad; and, for these reasons, I do assure you I love you the more, and pray the more earnestly for you. You have heard of the fluctuating condition of some acquaintance at Oxford. London friends have much the same esteem for you: ‘You are a good man, but you are too rigid,’ etc. ‘Master, in so saying, thou reproachest us also.’

“But to give you some good news. Mr. Salmon[54] is a sincere friend. Mr. Whitefield is well known to you. I contracted great intimacy with him since your departure. He is zealous in a good cause. All friends at Queen’s College I left in a hopeful condition. Their number is increased, and, I verily believe, will increase. Mr. Hervey fights manfully in Northamptonshire. Mr. Broughton is really a holy man. Mr. Morgan (I suppose you have heard his case, how he is forbid all conversation with you or your friends, etc.), I hope, will make a good Christian. Our friends at Osset go on very well. I baptized Piggot, and preached at the Castle the day I was ordained. I think there were thirty, save one, at the sacrament at St Mary’s the day before I came to London. Piggot and some of our friends were confirmed on Sunday. Mr. Gambold came with me to London, and is with me at Mr. Lissons’s. He returns to Oxford with Mr. Hall, who has been here a considerable time, on Saturday. On Friday, I shall set forward for Matching.[55] I cannot tell how long I shall stay there. I have thoughts of visiting my friends in Yorkshire; and, if you continue at Epworth, I think to come and see you. I have also a desire to see Mr. Clayton, at Manchester. I have been with Mr. Gambold and Hall to see Mr. Law.[56] We asked him some questions; but he talked only about man’s fall, and the one thing necessary. He is a divine man.

“I like several of the religious people in London pretty well; but I must confess they are not over zealous. I have had a great many turns and changes since I saw you. I believe I must be perfected through sufferings. Notwithstanding, by the blessing of God, I hope to press on, and persevere in the constant use of all the means of grace. I intend, at present, to read the Scriptures in English, together with Mr. Law’s books.

“My hearty respects to your brother and mother. Mrs. Lissons sends her service. Pray let me hear from you shortly. When I shall have the happiness of seeing you, or your brother, I shall acquaint you with many particulars which I cannot now mention. In the meantime, I rest, dear Sir, your sincere and affectionate friend, and brother in Christ,

“B. Ingham.”

“For the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, at Epworth, to be left at the Post Office in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire.”

“Savannah, May 1st, 1736.

“To my much-honoured Mother, my dearly beloved Brethren and Sisters, and all my Christian Friends:—Grace, mercy and peace be multiplied from Almighty God, the Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ, with the Holy Ghost; to whom be glory, honour, and praise for ever and ever. Amen.

“Blessed, for ever blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of all mercy, and the God of all consolation, who, of His great goodness, has been graciously pleased to conduct us safe through the terrors of the great deep! ‘They that go down to the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great waters, these men see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep, for, at His word, the stormy wind ariseth, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They are carried up to the heavens, and down again to the deep. Their soul melteth away because of the trouble. They reel to and fro, and are tossed up and down, so that they are at their wit’s end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivereth them out of their distress. For He maketh the storm to cease, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad, because they are at rest; and so He bringeth them unto the haven where they would be! O! that men would therefore praise the Lord for His goodness, and declare the wonders that He doeth to the children of men!’

“I can now inform you that we are all arrived in safety in Georgia. But, because I believe that a relation of our voyage will not be unacceptable to you, I shall, with God’s assistance, set down both the chief occurrences thereof, and also the reasons which moved me to undertake it. But, lest you should think of me, or my designs, more highly than you ought to think, I do assure you that I am a very grievous and abominable sinner, proud, sensual, and self-willed. And, oh! that I was truly sensible, and heartily sorry of being so! Oh! that it would please Almighty God, of His great grace, to make me thoroughly humble and contrite! Oh! that my sins were done away; that my nature was changed; that I was a new creature in Christ Jesus! Then, perhaps, God would make me an instrument to His glory. Oh! my dear friends, I beg of you, I entreat you, I beseech you, pray mightily to God in my behalf, that I may not be a castaway.

“About six weeks before we took shipping for Georgia, I received a letter from the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, the substance whereof was as follows: ‘Fast and pray; and then send me word whether you dare go with me to the Indians,’ Having observed his directions, about three days after the receipt of this, I answered him to this effect: ‘I am satisfied that God’s providence has placed me in my present station. Whether He would have me go to the Indians or not, I am not as yet informed. I dare not go without being called,’ I kept his letter secret for some days. I was utterly averse from going. I thought we had heathens anew at home. However, I continued to pray that God would be pleased to direct me, whether He would have me go, or not.

“About a fortnight after this, Mr. John Wesley came to London, as also his brother Charles, and Mr. Salmon, a gentleman of Brazen-Nose College, Oxon. The first time I was with them, I desired to know the reasons which moved them to leave England. They answered, they thought they could be better Christians, alleging particular advantages which they might reasonably expect would further their spiritual progress, by going amongst the Indians. Some of their reasons I approved of; to others I objected, alleging that a man might be a Christian in any place, but chiefly insisting upon this, that no one ought to go without being called of God. They told me, if I required a voice or sign from heaven, that was not now to be expected; and that a man had no other way of knowing God’s will, but by consulting his own reason, and his friends, and by observing the order of God’s providence. They, therefore, thought it a sufficient call to choose that way of life which they had reason to believe would most promote their Christian welfare. Our conversation being ended, they lent me several letters, written by Mr. Oglethorpe, relating to the Indians, their manner of living, their customs, and their great expectation of having a white man come amongst them to teach them wisdom. All this moved me a little, but I had no mind to leave England. However, I now began to pray more frequently and fervently that God would be pleased to direct me to do His will.

“Besides the three gentlemen aforementioned, there was also one Mr. Hall, brother-in-law to Mr. Wesley, resolutely determined to go. When they had been in London about ten days, in which time I frequently conversed with them, I found my heart so moved one night, by being with Mr. John Wesley, that, almost without thinking it, I said to him, ‘If neither Mr. Hall nor Mr. Salmon go along with you, I will go.’ At that time, there seemed no probability that either of them would draw back. They were both of them ordained by the Bishop of London in order to go: Mr. Salmon, deacon; Mr. Hall, both deacon and priest.

“But, lo! Mr. Salmon was immediately seized upon by his relations in town, and was sent down, post haste, to his parents in Cheshire. Upon his arrival, his father left the house, furious and distracted, protesting he would not return unless his son would stay. His mother, also, was labouring under a fever. In this distress, he knew not what to do; but he promised his parents to stay, and wrote Mr. Wesley word that he hoped to follow him next spring, though since then he has writ to him, telling him he doth not think himself as yet at liberty to leave father and mother.

“However, Mr. Hall still continued steady. Neither his wife, nor mother, nor brother, nor uncle, nor all his friends, either by prayers, tears, threats, or entreaties, could, in the least, turn him aside from his purpose.

“A few days after this, Mr. Wesley began to be more importunate with me, urging me with my promise, telling me he had now little hope of Mr. Salmon; and, as for Mr. Hall, he could not properly be said to go with him, for his design was to go amongst the Indians, whereas Mr. Hall was only to go to Savannah, and be minister there; and as for his brother Charles, he went over only as secretary to the trustees for the colony of Georgia.

“I still refused, telling him, ‘If Mr. Hall went, I would not go.’ Nevertheless, I prayed very earnestly, almost night and day revolving upon it. My heart began to be now more and more affected. It pleased God to let me see I might be a better Christian by going with Mr. Wesley. I thought, by living with him and having his example always before mine eyes, I should be enabled to rise regularly and early, and to spend all my time carefully, which are great and necessary points in Christianity, and wherein I grew very deficient by living in London. Besides these, there were three other reasons which moved me. I thought, I should not meet with so many temptations, to sensuality and indulgence, among the Indians as in England. Hereby, likewise, I saw I should be freed from the slavery of worldly interests, and the danger and drudgery of hunting for preferment, which hinders so many from being Christians, making them to betray the Church to serve the State, and to deny Jesus Christ to please worldly-minded men. The last and chief reason was the goodness of the work, and the great and glorious promises that are made to those who forsake all for the sake of the gospel.[57]

“Notwithstanding all these reasons, I was not yet fully determined to go; but, what is very remarkable, the Psalms, the Lessons, and all that I then read suggested to me that I should go. So that, being at Morning Prayers in Westminster Abbey, on Tuesday, October 7th, 1735, the tenth chapter of St. Mark, which was then read, made so strong and vigorous an impression upon me, that, at the hearing of these words, ‘And Jesus answered and said, Verily, I say unto you, there is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel’s, but he shall receive an hundred-fold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life,’—I determined in my heart that I would go. I may likewise observe that, without any intention or design, I read the same chapter the next day at St. Sepulchre’s Church, which did not a little strengthen my resolution.

“Though I was thus determined in my own mind, yet I did not make known my purpose to Mr. Wesley; but told him there were three objections against my going. My mother and Mr. Nicolson knew nothing of the matter; whereas I ought to have acquainted them both and obtained their consent. To these Mr. Wesley answered, he did not doubt but God would provide better for the school in my absence than if I stayed, especially if I recommended it to His care in my prayers, which I have constantly done. Mr. Morgan, likewise, a gentleman of Lincoln College, Oxford, who came up to London to take leave of Mr. Wesley, a zealous and sincere Christian, being very earnest with me to go, promised himself to make a journey into Yorkshire to see my mother, and to do what he could towards settling the school. As to having my mother’s consent, he said, if I thought it was God’s will, I must obey my Master, and go wherever I could do Him service, whether my relations were willing or not. But, however, I could not go without Mr. Nicolson’s knowledge and consent, because that would be leaving the parish unprovided, which would be unlawful. We therefore put the matter upon this issue,—if Mr. Nicolson consented, I might go; if not, then there was a reasonable hindrance against my going at this time. Mr. Nicolson had been some weeks at his parish of Matching, in Essex, whereof I was curate. He usually came to town on Saturdays, but, by a wonderful Providence, he was now brought to town on Monday night. His intent was to have returned the next day, but he was strangely detained, by one thing or other, till Wednesday. I would gladly have met with him on Tuesday, but could not find him at home. However, I writ a letter, and ordered it to be given him as soon as he came. Next morning, he came to my lodgings at Mr. Lissons’s. He told me he had received my letter, which had acquainted him with my designs. He was sorry to part with me; my warning was short; my departure was sudden; yet, as I was going about a good work, he would not oppose me; and, provided I could preach the Sunday following, he would give me his consent. I went to Mr. Oglethorpe to know if I could stay so long. He said, I might. I returned, acquainted Mr. Nicolson, and so parted with him very friendly, he going directly into the country.

“After this, I made known my designs, and got things in readiness as fast as I could. My friends in town endeavoured to persuade me; but I did not consult them, but God.

“On Friday, October 10, 1735, I made my will, which I sent inclosed in a letter to you at Osset.

“Sunday, October 12, I preached at St. Mary Somerset[58] in the morning, and at St. Sepulchre’s in the afternoon. Service being ended, I took leave of my good old friend, Mrs. Lissons, and her family, who wept much—my cousin, Robert Harrap, and some other friends. Thence I went to Sir John Philips’, a very worthy gentleman, and a devout Christian, who showed me a great deal of respect, and did me many favours when I was in London, where, having exhorted one another, we kneeled down to pray, and so parted. Thence I went with Mr. Morgan to Mr. Hutton’s, a good family in Westminster, where we spent the next day with Messrs. Wesley, chiefly in private. But there happened such a remarkable circumstance on it, as I cannot pass over in silence. Mr. Hall, who had made great preparations for the voyage, and had now got all things ready for his departure, having this very morning hired a coach to carry himself and wife down to Gravesend, where the ship lay, at the very hour wherein they should have gone, drew back. He came unexpectedly, and told Mr. Oglethorpe, his uncle and mother would get him a living, and, therefore, he would not go. So he, whom all his friends could not dissuade before, lost himself, and dropped all his resolutions in the very last moments.

“This strange occurrence, which was so much beyond all expectation, was a strong and fresh demonstration to me, that it was God’s will I should go. Because, as I observed, I had said to Mr. Wesley some time ago, ‘If neither Mr. Hall nor Mr. Salmon go along with you, I will go.’—And again, ‘If Mr. Hall goes, I will not go.’

“Having now no further doubt, but, that, I was intended by Providence to accompany Mr. Wesley, on Tuesday, October 14, he, his brother, Mr. Charles, myself, and Mr. Delamotte, son of a merchant in London, who had a mind to leave the world, and give himself up entirely to God, being accompanied by Mr. Morgan, Mr. Burton, (one of the trustees), and Mr. James Hutton, took boat at Westminster, for Gravesend. We arrived there about four in the afternoon, and immediately went on board the ship, called the Symmonds.

“We had two cabins allotted us in the forecastle; I and Mr. Delamotte having the first, and Messrs. Wesley the other. Theirs was made pretty large, so that we could all meet together to read or pray in it. This part of the ship was assigned to us by Mr. Oglethorpe, as being most convenient for privacy.

“Wednesday and Thursday we spent chiefly with Mr. Morgan and Mr. Hutton, exhorting and encouraging one another. We also received the Lord’s Supper with them each day, thereby to strengthen our spiritual strength and resolutions. They were both sorry to part with us; and, I believe, Mr. Morgan would have been very glad to have gone along with us.

“Friday, October 17, Mr. John Wesley, began to learn the German tongue, in order to converse with the Moravians, a good, devout, peaceable, and heavenly-minded people, who were persecuted by the Papists, and driven from their native country, upon the account of their religion. They were graciously received and protected by Count Zinzendorf, of Hernhuth, a very holy man, who sent them over into Georgia, where lands will be given them. There are twenty-six of them in our ship; and almost the only time that you could know they were in the ship, was when they were harmoniously singing the praises of the Great Creator, which they constantly do in public twice a day, wherever they are. Their example was very edifying. They are more like the Primitive Christians than any other church now in the world; for they retain both the faith, practice, and discipline delivered by the Apostles. They have regularly ordained bishops, priests, and deacons. Baptism, confirmation, and the eucharist are duly administered. Discipline is strictly exercised without respect of persons. They all submit themselves to their pastors, being guided by them in everything. They live together in perfect love and peace, having, for the present, all things in common. They are more ready to serve their neighbours than themselves. In their business, they are diligent and industrious; in all their dealings, strictly just and conscientious. In everything, they behave themselves with great meekness, sweetness, and humility.

“Saturday, October 18. This morning, Mr. John Wesley and I began to read the Old Testament, which we finished during our voyage. Mr. Wesley likewise baptised a man of thirty, who before only had received lay baptism.[59] I was witness.

“Sunday, October 19. Mr. John Wesley began to preach without notes, expounding a portion of Scripture extempore, according to the ancient usage. During our passage, he went over our Saviour’s Sermon on the Mount. He also constantly explained the Second Lesson, except when he catechized the children; whereby, all that heard, with sincere hearts, were much edified. To-day, being the first time we celebrated the Lord’s Supper publicly, (which we did constantly every Lord’s-day afterwards,) we had but three communicants besides ourselves;—a small number, yet God has been graciously pleased to add to them. All love, all glory, be to Thee, O Lord!

“Monday, October 20 I began to teach and catechize the children on board our ship, being in number about twelve. I likewise helped two or three of the Moravians[60] to learn English. This I continued to do several weeks, till we came out to sea, and then I could but do it seldom, by reason of the rolling of the ship. O that we were all like little children, willing to be instructed and guided by our Heavenly Father! O that we were truly sensible of our own ignorance, and how very little the wisest of us knows that is worth knowing! It is God that teacheth man knowledge.

“Tuesday, October 21. We left Gravesend, and went down the river, though but very slowly, the wind not being favourable to us.

“We now began to be more in earnest. We resolved to rise early, and to spend our time regularly and carefully. The first hour, we allotted ourselves, was to pray for ourselves and absent friends. The next, we read the Scriptures; and, from six to breakfast, we generally read something relating to the Primitive Church. At eight, we had public prayers. The forenoon I spent either in teaching and instructing the children, or reading antiquity; Mr. John Wesley, in learning German; Mr. Charles Wesley, mostly in writing; Mr. Delamotte, in learning Greek, or Navigation. At twelve, we all met together, to join in prayer, and to exhort one another, consulting both how to profit our neighbours and ourselves. After dinner, I taught the children, or conversed religiously with some of the passengers, as also Mr. Wesley constantly did. At four, we had public prayer. From five to six, we spent in private; then we supped. At seven, I read to as many of the passengers as were willing to hear, and instructed them in Christianity. Mr. John Wesley joined with the Moravians in their public devotions. At eight, we all met together again, to give an account of what we had done, whom we had conversed with, deliberating on the best method of proceeding with such and such persons; what advice, direction, exhortation, or reproof was necessary for them; and sometimes we read a little, concluding with prayer; and so we went to bed about nine, sleeping soundly upon mats and blankets, regarding neither the noise of the sea or sailors. “The angels of the Lord are round about them that fear Him.”

“Monday, October 27. We sailed from Margate Road to the Downs. A gentleman passenger strongly opposed our having prayers in the great cabin; and, indeed, he half carried his point, so that we were forced to submit to the inconvenience of having them between decks in the afternoons, till it pleased God to remove him out of the ship.

“Sunday, November 2. We passed the fleet at Spithead, and came into Cowes Road, off the Isle of Wight, where we lay till the 10th of December. During our stay here, we had an excellent opportunity of promoting the work of God among our fellow passengers. We met with both opposition and success, passing through evil report and good report. May it please the Almighty to give us all an abundant measure of His grace, to persevere zealously in His service to the end of our days! Every Christian must be perfected through sufferings, either inward or outward, for even the Captain of our salvation was made perfect through suffering; and we are to be like Him.

“Mr. Charles Wesley, being known to the minister at Cowes, preached several times in the island, and read at a poor woman’s house to a good number of the people there assembled. Before we came away, he left a few books among them. The poor people were very glad, expressed much thankfulness, and, I believe, were not a little edified by his admonition and exhortation.

“Monday, November 3. We took a walk into the Isle, where we agreed upon the following resolutions:—

“The wind was now fair, but the man-of-war, that was to convey us over, was not yet ready. The passengers grew impatient of delay; but our Heavenly Father intended it for our good. Known unto God are all His works from everlasting. Unsearchable are Thy ways, O Lord God of hosts. Blessed art Thou for ever.

“Saturday, November 8. I went upon quarter-deck, after dinner, to teach the children; but, because some gentlemen were there who laughed at me for it, I was ashamed to proceed. O! what a dreadful thing is the fear of man! How does it defeat our best purposes, and stagger our stoutest courage! O! how deceitful is my heart! If Thou, O Lord, shouldest withdraw Thy grace from me but one day, I should utterly renounce Thee, and commit the most enormous crimes!

“Sunday, November 16. Mr. John Wesley baptized Thomas Herd and Grace, his wife, Mark, his son, and Phœbe, his daughter, both adults, having prepared them for it by private instruction. To this, I was a witness. They were brought up Quakers; but are now serious people and constant communicants. Praised be the Lord! who has turned their hearts from error, and put them in the right way.

“Thursday, November 20. The man-of-war being come, we left Cowes and got down to Yarmouth, where they cast anchor. But next morning, the wind being contrary, we were forced back again into Cowes Road. During this our latter stay here, there were several storms, in one of which, two ships, that ventured out, were stranded upon the island. Notwithstanding this, several of our people murmured at the delay. If God should deal with us according to our deservings, we should be consumed in a moment.

“Sunday, November 23. We had, besides ourselves, eight communicants. The Tuesday following, I got a boy well whipped, by Mr. Oglethorpe’s orders, for swearing and blaspheming. Private admonition had no effect upon him, so that I was forced to have recourse to public correction.

“Sunday, November 30. I preached on board the other ships, and read prayers, which I did several times while we lay at Cowes. We now again had prayers in the great cabin, the gentleman afore-mentioned having yesterday left the ship. Blessed be God! who delivered us from him, for he very much opposed us. I did think, and I told it my friends, that, we could not sail while he was in the ship. This, perhaps, might be one reason why we were kept so long from sailing.

“Monday, December 1. We agreed upon the following resolution,—‘If any one upon being reproved, or upon any other occasion, shall feel any sort or degree of anger or resentment, he shall immediately, or at the next meeting, frankly and fully confess it.’

“Saturday, December 6. The second mate, a very insolent and ill-natured fellow, who had abused many of the passengers and also Mr. Wesley, at last affronted even Mr. Oglethorpe to his face. The next day, he was sent on board the man-of-war. The people rejoiced at this; and praised be God! who delivered them from his power. ‘The fierceness of man shall turn to Thy praise; and the fierceness of them shalt Thou restrain.’ This, I think, was another reason why we were kept still at Cowes.

“Sunday, December 7. We were fifteen communicants. This evening, we resolved to leave off eating suppers, till we found some inconvenience from it; which none of us did to the end of the voyage. Since our settling in America, Messrs. Wesley and Mr. Delamotte have resumed them. As yet, it agrees perfectly with my health, and I still continue it.

“Monday, December 8. A young man, very providentially, was taken into our ship. I, perceiving that he was a stranger, began to converse with him. He gave me an account of himself, and the reason of his coming. He had left his parents, he said, who were rich, (though he was their only son,) because they would not let him serve God as he had a mind. He used to spend a good part of the night in prayer, not having opportunity to do it by day. When he left home, he did not know where he should go, having no clothes with him; but he did not seek for money or worldly enjoyments; he desired only to save his soul. When he was travelling, he prayed that he might go to some place where he could have the advantage of public prayers and the Holy Sacrament. Several times he had thoughts of turning hermit; but Providence had brought him to us; and he was glad to meet with ministers with whom he could freely converse about spiritual things; and, indeed, I was glad to meet with him. This, I think, was another reason for our delay. All love, all glory be to Thee, O Lord!

“Wednesday, December 10. Now, at length, it pleased our Heavenly Father to send us a fair wind. We left Cowes about nine in the morning. Two gentlemen passengers of the other ship were left behind, having, the night before, gone to Portsmouth. We waited for them near two hours; but, they not coming, we made the best of our way, running between seven and eight miles an hour. Friday, in the forenoon, we left the man-of-war, he not being able to sail as fast as our ships. Most of the passengers were now sick; I was so for about half an hour; Mr. John Wesley scarce at all.

“Friday, December 19. Messrs. Wesley and I, with Mr. Oglethorpe’s approbation, undertook to visit, each of us, a part of the ship, and daily to provide the sick people with water-gruel, and such other things as were necessary for them. At first, we met with some difficulties; but God enabled us to persevere in the constant performance to the end of the journey. Mr. Oglethorpe himself went several times about the ship to comfort and encourage the people; and, indeed, he has never been wanting in this respect. He is a pattern of fatherly care and tender compassion, being always ready, night and day, to give up his own ease and conveniences to serve the poorest body among the people. He seldom eats above once a day, and then he usually chooses salt provisions, (though not so agreeable to his health,) that, he might give the fresh to the sick. But more will appear from the following instance. One Mrs. Welch, who was believed to be at the point of death, being big with child, in a high fever, attended with a violent cough, was, by Mr. Oglethorpe’s order, removed into his own cabin, which was the best in the ship, he himself lying several nights in a hammock, till another cabin was got ready for him. He also constantly supplied her with all the best things in the ship. Some of the gentlemen seemed disgusted at this; but that made him only the more resolute. Yet, notwithstanding all possible care was taken of her, human means failed; the doctor gave her up; everybody thought she would die; Mr. Oglethorpe only continued in hope. Nay, he said, he was sure God would raise her up to manifest His glory in her. She had a desire to receive the Lord’s Supper before she died; and, lo! from the moment she received, she began to recover, and is now safely delivered of a daughter, and in perfect health. ‘Gracious is the Lord, and merciful, long-suffering, and of great goodness; the Lord is loving to every man, and His mercy is over all His works.’

“Sunday, December 21. We were twenty-one communicants. This, as well as yesterday, was an exceedingly calm and pleasant day. The sky appeared to me more beautiful than ever I had observed it in England. We were likewise got so far to the southward, that, the weather was as warm now as it is in the spring at home. This being Mr. Oglethorpe’s birthday, he gave a sheep and wine to the people, which, with the smoothness of the sea, and the serenity of the sky, so enlivened them, that, they perfectly recovered from their sea sickness. On Christmas-day, also, Mr. Oglethorpe gave a hog, and wine to the people.

“Monday, December 29. We are now past the latitude of twenty-five degrees, and are got into what they call the Trade winds, which blow much the same way all the year round. The air is balmy, soft, and sweet. The ship glides smoothly and quietly along. The clouds are finely variegated with numbers of pretty colours. The nights are mild and pleasant, being beautifully adorned with the shining hosts of stars. ‘The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handywork. One day telleth another; and one night certifies another.’

“1736, Sunday, January 4. A gentleman was very angry with me for accusing his servant, of swearing, before Mr. Oglethorpe.

“The next day, Mr. John Wesley began to catechise the children publicly, after the Second Lesson evening service, which he continued to do every day for about three weeks.

“Monday, January 12. I began to write out the English Dictionary, in order to learn the Indian tongue. O! ‘who is sufficient for these things?’

“When the ship rolled so that we could not well go about to visit the people, we generally spent the evening in conversation with Mr. Oglethorpe, from whom we learnt many particulars concerning the Indians.

“Saturday, January 17. The wind was very strong. About half an hour after ten at night, we encountered such a wave as we did not meet with in all our passage besides. It shook the whole frame of the ship, from stem to stern. The water sprung through the sides of the ship, which before were tight, and, also, above the main-yard. Falling down, it covered the decks, broke into the great cabin, and filled Mrs. Welch’s bed. Mr. Oglethorpe was gone to bed, and resigned his own dry cabin to the sick, betaking himself once more to his hammock. Hitherto, we had had a very fine passage; but now, approaching near land, we met with contrary winds, which kept us above a fortnight longer at sea than otherwise we should have been.

“Tuesday, January 20. I baptized a child, which was thought to be at the point of death; nay, some thought it was dead; but, from the moment it was baptized, it began to recover.

“Wednesday, January 21. This evening, Mr. Oglethorpe called together the heads of families, as he also did at some other times, and gave them several excellent and useful instructions relating to their living in Georgia, exhorting them likewise to love God and one another.

“Sunday, January 25. We were twenty communicants. Towards evening, we had a terrible storm, which lasted several hours. I observed it well; and, truly, I never saw anything hitherto so solemn and majestic. The sea sparkled and smoked, as if it had been on fire. The air darted forth lightning; and the wind blew so fierce, that, you could scarcely look it in the face, and draw your breath. The waves did not swell so high as at some other times, being pressed down by the impetuosity of the blast; neither did the ship roll much; but it quivered, jarred, and shook. About half an hour past seven, a great sea broke in upon us, which split the main-sail, carried away the companion, filled between decks, and rushed into the great cabin. This made most of the people tremble; and, I believe, they would then have been glad to have been Christians, how light soever they made of religion before. I myself was made sensible, that, nothing will enable us to smile in the face of death, but a life of extraordinary holiness. I was under some fear for a little while; but I recollected myself again, by reflecting that every thing came by the will of God; and that whatever He willed was the best for me. If, therefore, He was pleased to take me off at this very time, so much the better:—I should be delivered from many evils, and prevented from committing many sins to come. Betwixt eleven and twelve, I recommended myself to God, and went to bed, resting satisfied with whatever should befal me. Towards three, the wind abated. In the morning, we returned public thanks for our deliverance; and, before night, most of the people had forgotten, that, they were ever in a storm. ‘If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.’[61]

“Wednesday, January 28. Being a calm day, I went on board the other ship, read prayers, and visited the people. At my return, I acquainted Mr. Oglethorpe with their state; and he sent them such things as they needed.

“Sunday, February 1. Three sail appearing, we made up towards them, and got what letters we could write, in hopes some of them might be bound for England. I writ a short one to you at Osset. One of them, that was bound for London, made towards us, and we put our letters on board her.

“On Tuesday, we found ground; on Wednesday, we saw land; and, on Thursday afternoon, 5th of February, we got safe into Tybee-road, in the mouth of the river Savannah, in the province of Georgia, in America. Messrs. Wesley, Mr. Delamotte, and I had some discourse about our manner of living in this new country. I was struck with a deep, religious awe, considering the greatness and importance of the work I came upon, but was comforted with these words in the Psalms:—‘O! tarry thou the Lord’s leisure; be strong, and He shall comfort thy heart; and put thou thy trust in the Lord.’ From the whole service, I was moved to think, that, the Gospel would be propagated over the whole world. May God, of His great mercy, graciously be pleased to grant it!

“February 6. We went on shore, and had prayers, where we were comforted by the Second Lesson. Next day, I received a letter from my brother William, one from my sister Hannah, and another from Mr. H. Washington, whereby I was very much comforted. I called to mind several things past; reflected upon the sweet happiness of true friendship; and prayed earnestly for my dear friends in England, with tears.

“Saturday, February 14. This morning, as well as yesterday, we met with several remarkable passages, in our course of reading the prophets, relating to the propagation of the Gospel, which not a little comforted and encouraged us. I was also strongly affected by the Second Lesson, Mark xiii.

“A little after noon, some Indians came to make us a visit. We put on our gowns and cassocks; spent some time in prayer; and then went into the great cabin to receive them. At our entrance, they all rose up; and both men and women shook hands with us. When we were all seated, Toma-Chache, their king, spoke to us to this effect. (His interpreter was one Mrs. Musgrove, who lives about five miles above Savannah. She is descended of a white man by an Indian woman. She understands both languages, being educated amongst the English. She can read and write, and is a well-civilized woman. She is likewise to teach us the Indian tongue.)

“‘Ye are welcome. I am glad to see you here. I have a desire to hear the Great Word, for I am ignorant. When I was in England, I desired that some might speak the Great Word to me. Our nation was then willing to hear. Since that time, we have been in trouble. The French on one hand, the Spaniards on the other, and the Traders that are amongst us, have caused great confusion, and have set our people against hearing the Great Word. Their tongues are useless; some say one thing, and some another. But I am glad that ye are come. I will assemble the great men of our nation, and I hope, by degrees, to compose our differences; for, without their consent, I cannot hear the Great Word. However, in the meantime, I shall be glad to see you at my town; and I would have you teach our children. But we would not have them made Christians as the Spaniards make Christians; for they baptize without instruction; but we would hear and be well instructed, and then be baptized when we understood.’

“All this he spoke with much earnestness, and much action, both of his head and hands. Mr. John Wesley made him a short answer,—‘God only can teach you wisdom, and, if you be sincere, perhaps, He will do it by us.’ We then shook hands with them again, and withdrew.

“The Queen made us a present of a jar of milk, and another of honey; that we might feed them, she said, with milk; for they were but children; and that we might be sweet to them.

“About three next day, in the afternoon, just before they went away, we put on our surplices, at Mr. Oglethorpe’s desire, and went to take leave of them.

“Monday, February 16. About seven this evening, I set forward with Mr. Oglethorpe, and some others, in a ten-oared boat, for the Alatamahaw river, the southernmost part of Georgia. At eleven, we arrived at a place called Skiddowa, where we went ashore into the woods, and kindled a fire under a lofty pine-tree. Having written some letters, and eaten something, we lay down to sleep upon the ground, without either bed or board, having no covering, besides our clothes, but a single blanket each, and the canopy of heaven. About eight next day, we set forward again, passing several marshes, beset on both sides with trees of various sorts, whose leaves, being gilded with the glorious rays of the sun, yielded a beautiful prospect. About twelve, the wind blew so high, that, we were driven upon an oyster bank, where we could not get a stick to make a fire. Here we dined very comfortably. Near two, we set forward again, and, with great difficulty, crossed over the mouth of the river Ogechee. The wind was exceeding high, and the water very rough. Almost every wave drove over the side of the boat; so that every moment we were in jeopardy of our lives; and, truly, if Mr. Oglethorpe had not roused up himself, and struck life into the rowers, I do not know but most of us might here have made our exit. Towards six, we got to a little place, called Boar’s Island, where we encamped all right, round a roaring fire, in a bed of canes, where the wind could not reach us. Here also we came up with a large boat, called a Pettiangur,[62] loaded with people for the Alatamahaw, who had set out before us. Next morning, after prayers, Mr. Oglethorpe, considering, that, our own boat was overladen, and also that I might probably be of some service to the people, asked me if I was willing to go on board the Pettiangur, whereto I readily consented. Here, during the remainder of our passage, I read to the people, and instructed them as I had opportunity. This evening, we lay upon St. Catherine’s, a very pleasant island, where we met with two Indians a-hunting. I took one of them on board the Pettiangur, and gave him some biscuit and wine, and he, in return, sent us the greatest part of a deer.

“On Sunday morning, February 22, we arrived at the island of St. Simons, upon the river Alatamahaw, a pleasant and fertile place, which Mr. Oglethorpe had reached the Thursday night before. Several of the people were firing guns, but, upon my landing, I asked Mr. Oglethorpe if Sunday was a proper day for sporting. He immediately put a stop to it. Having breakfasted, we joined in the Litany, and then he returned to Savannah, having already put the people in a method of proceeding.

“Next day in the forenoon, we were alarmed by a sail appearing in the river. We called all the people together; and, after consultation, we threw up a trench, strengthening it with barrels of beef and pork, which we had here in abundance. We also sent a canoe down the river, and several men into the woods for scouts, to bring us intelligence. In the meantime, we got all our arms in readiness, providing for the worst. About half an hour past twelve, the canoe returned, and brought us word, it was the sloop which brought the provisions, that had returned to take in ballast.

“Two or three of the first days, the people spent in building palmetto bowers. We enclosed a little round place with myrtles, bays, and laurels, in the midst whereof we nightly kept a great fire, round which I lay several weeks in the open air, my whole bed consisting of two blankets; and I never had health better in my life. Now we had short prayers early in the morning, before they began; and at night, after they had done working. My chief business was daily to visit the people, to take care of those that were sick, and to supply them with the best things we had. For a few days at the first, I had everybody’s good word; but, when they found I watched narrowly over them, and reproved them sharply for their faults, immediately the scene changed. Instead of blessing, came cursing, and my love and kindness were repaid with hatred and ill-will.

“Sunday, February 29. After morning prayers, which we had pretty early, I told the people that, it was the Lord’s day, and, therefore, ought to be spent in His service; that, they ought not to go a-shooting, or walking up and down in the woods; and that, I would take notice of all those who did. One man answered, that, these were new laws in America! This man, as well as several others went out; but he, I think, was two days before he could find his way back again. I reproved most of them afterwards, in a friendly manner, laying before them the heinousness of the sin, and the dreadful consequences that would necessarily follow. One or two took my advice well; but the rest were hardened, and, instead of reforming, raised heavy complaints and accusations to the gentleman, that was left chief in commission, that, I had made a black list; and that, I intended to ruin them. This caused a very sharp contest between that gentleman and me; wherein God enabled me, boldly and courageously, to vindicate the honour of His day and worship, without regarding the favour of any man. So soon as I was retired, I prayed earnestly from my heart, that, God would forgive him, and also give him a new mind; which prayer God heard (blessed be His goodness!) for, since I came away, he frankly confessed, that, he was in the wrong; that, his passions carried him to too great a height; that, I was certainly in the right, and had only done what was my duty. I mention this to show the great use of praying for our enemies. Who knows how much such prayer will avail before God? Certainly, it purifies our own heart, and is the only sure enemy to keep out hatred, malice, and revenge.

“Tuesday, March 2. This morning, I prayed that God would be pleased to send home the lost man, and also make him sensible of his sin. About breakfast time, he came looking very ghastly, sadly affrighted, telling me he was resolved never more to profane the Sabbath. God grant he may keep his word! This example would not make others take warning. Next Sunday, three more went a-shooting, who were all lost till next day. Nothing but the almighty grace of God is sufficient to turn a sinner from the error of his ways.

“Monday, March 8. Mr. Oglethorpe arrived, with four Pettiangurs; and, next day, my dear friend, Mr. C. Wesley, with another, wherein were all the married men and women, and children, that came over in our two ships. Mr. Oglethorpe immediately laid out the new town, Frederica, in a neat and regular method; and kept the people to strict work in building themselves palmetto houses. During the three weeks longer, which I spent here, there happened such a variety of incidents, that, it would be too tedious to relate them. Only I will add, that, Mr. C. Wesley and I had the happiness of undergoing, for the truth’s sake, the most glorious trial of our whole lives, wherein God enabled us exceedingly to rejoice, and also to behave ourselves throughout with undaunted courage and constancy; for which may we ever love and adore Him! The book of God was our support, wherein, as our necessities required, we always met with direction, exhortation, and comfort—‘Thy Word is a lantern to my feet, and a light unto my paths. In God’s Word will I comfort me.’[63]

“Sunday, March 28. About seven in the evening, I left Frederica, and took boat for Savannah. We had a fair wind; and, if we had not run twice aground, I believe we should have got thither in twenty-four hours. Towards four on Tuesday morning, it began to thunder, and lighten, and rain in the most dreadful manner I ever beheld since I was born. Ours was a little open boat, without any cover. The rest of the people wrapped themselves up, head and ears, in blankets and sails, whatever they could get, and laid down in the bottom of it. I plucked up a good heart, threw my cloak over me, and stood up, as stiff as I could, in the midst of it, that I might behold the majesty of God in thunder; and, truly, so glorious a scene I never saw. I dare not attempt to describe. However, I passed the time very comfortably in praising God; and, whereas, all the rest were well wet, I was pure and dry all over, excepting only my cloak and shoes. Betwixt seven and eight, we arrived at Savannah, where I was kindly received by Mr. John Wesley and Mr. Delamotte. The latter had began to teach a few little orphans; and the former had brought the people to short prayers morning and night I now again entered upon a manner of life more agreeable to me than what I spent at Frederica, having both time and convenience for regular retirement.

“Sunday, April 4. This afternoon, Mr. Wesley and Mr. Delamotte, took boat for Frederica. In their absence, I took care both of the church and school.

“Monday, April 5. After evening prayers, I begun to catechize, at our own house, all young persons that were willing to come, as well children as servants, and apprentices, who would not come in the day time. I have continued to do this every night since. On Sundays, I do it after dinner, and also publicly in the church after the Second Lesson.

“Sunday, April 11. After evening service, I made a visit to a few people, who had formed themselves into a Society,—meeting together on Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday nights. I found their design was good. They read, prayed, and sung psalms together. Accordingly, I exhorted them to go on, promising myself to meet with them sometimes, and to give them such helps and directions as I could. I have joined them every Sunday since; and I hope it will be a means of some good. God grant it!

“Sunday, April 18. This afternoon, there was an alarm made in time of Divine service, whereupon, several people went out of church. The cause of it was a young lad that had run away from his master. He had broken into our house, under which, he said, he had laid a fortnight, and stolen provisions when I was at prayers. He had taken down a pistol, and loaded it, with a design, I suppose, to shoot in the woods; for he had gotten the powder flask, and, as he was getting out of the window, somehow, he slipped, and fired off the pistol, which broke his arm to shivers. He then called out aloud for help; whereupon, some people that heard, went to see what was the matter. He begged of them to drag him out at the window, which they did, and found him in a bad condition. They carried him to a surgeon, who cut off his arm. In the night, not having due attendance, he loosed it, whereby, he lost so much blood, that, he died next morning. I was very sorry for the unfortunate wretch, for he came to be catechized the night before he run away, and I, being informed that he had done so several times before, talked to him a good while, to behave himself well, and to obey his master. But, not having grace, he did the very reverse to what I exhorted him. A sad example, whereby others ought to take warning.

“This being the great and holy week, I dedicated it to devotion, observing the discipline of the Primitive Church.

“On Tuesday evening, Mr. John Wesley and Mr. Delamotte arrived from Frederica. Next day, Mr. Wesley gave me an account of what had passed there since my departure. O what secrets will come to pass in the last day!

“Easter Sunday, April 25. We were thirty-four communicants. Our constant number is about a dozen. Next day, Mr. Wesley and I went up to Cowpen, in a boat, bought for our use, to converse with Mrs. Musgrave about learning the Indian language. I agreed to teach her children to read, and to make her whatever recompence she would require more for her trouble. I am to spend three or four days a week with her, and the rest at Savannah, in communicating what I have learned to Mr. Wesley; because he intends, as yet, wholly to reside there.

“The Moravians, being informed of our design, desired me to teach one of the brethren along with Mr. Wesley. To this I consented at once, with my whole heart. And who, think ye, is the person intended to learn? Their lawful bishop.[64] ‘The right hand of the Lord hath the pre-eminence; the right hand of the Lord bringeth mighty things to pass.’

“Friday, April 30. Mr. Wesley and I went up again to Cowpen, taking along with us, Toma-Cache and his Queen. Their town is about four miles above Savannah, in the way to Mrs. Musgrave’s. We told them we were about to learn their language. I asked them, if they were willing I should teach the young prince. They consented, desiring me to check and keep him in; but not to strike him. The Indians never strike their children; neither will they suffer any one to do it. I told them, I would do my best, as far as gentleness and good advice would go. How I shall manage, God alone can direct me. The youth is sadly corrupted, and addicted to drunkenness, which he has learnt of our Christian heathen. Nay, the whole Creek nation is now generally given to this brutal sin, whereto they were utter strangers before Christians came among them.

“Oh! what a work have we before us! Who is sufficient for these things? I am nothing. I have nothing. I can do nothing. O! my dearest friends, pray for us. Pray earnestly for us; and more especially for me, your very weak, though most dutiful son, and affectionate brother,

“Benjamin Ingham.”

“Savannah, February 16, 1737.

“Dear Sir,—Mr. Ingham has left Savannah for some months; and lives at a house built for him a few miles off, near the Indian town.[66] So that I have now no fellow-labourer but Mr. Delamotte, who has taken charge of between thirty and forty children. There is, therefore, great need, that God should put it into the hearts of some, to come over to us and labour with us in His harvest. But I should not desire any to come unless on the same views and conditions with us,—without any temporal wages, other than food and raiment, the plain conveniences of life. And for one or more in whom was this mind, there would be full employment in the province; either in assisting Mr. Delamotte or me, while we were present here; or in supplying our places when abroad; or in visiting the poor people, in the smaller settlements, as well as at Frederica; all of whom are as sheep without a shepherd.

“By these labours of love, might any, that desired it, be trained up for the harder task of preaching the Gospel to the heathen. The difficulties he must then encounter God only knows; probably martyrdom would conclude them. But those we have hitherto met with have been small, and only terrible at a distance. Persecution, you know, is the portion of every follower of Christ, wherever his lot is cast. But it has hitherto extended no farther than words with regard to us, unless in one or two inconsiderable instances. Yet, it is sure, every man ought, if he would come hither, be willing and ready to embrace (if God should see them good) the severer kinds of it He ought to be determined, not only to leave parents, sisters, friends, houses, and lands, for his Master’s sake, but to take up his cross too; cheerfully submit to the fatigue and danger of (it may be) a long voyage, and patiently to endure the continual contradiction of sinners and all the inconveniences which it often occasions.

“Would any one have a trial of himself, how he can bear this? If he has felt what reproach is, and can bear that but a few weeks, as he ought, I shall believe he need fear nothing. Other trials will afterwards be no heavier than that little one was at first; so that he may then have a well-grounded hope, that he will be enabled to do all things through Christ strengthening him.

“May the God of peace Himself direct you to all things conducive to His glory, whether it be by fitter instruments, or even by your own friend and servant in Christ,

“John Wesley.”[67]

“1737. February 24. It was agreed Mr. Ingham should go for England, and endeavour to bring over, if it should please God, some of our friends, to strengthen our hands in this work. February 26. He left Savannah.”

“I took coach for Blendon. My friend, Benjamin, had been there before me, and met with such a reception as encouraged me to follow. He had preached to them with power, and still more powerfully by his life and conversation. The eldest sister, and the Cambridge scholar,[69] were struck to the heart. The first evening passed in discourse of my namesake[70] in America.”

“Osset, October 19, 1737.[71]

“Dear Brother,—By your silence, one would suspect that you were offended at my last letter. Am I your enemy because I tell you the truth? But perhaps I was too severe. Forgive me then. Be lowly in your own eyes. Humble yourself before the Lord, and He will lift you up. I do assure you, it is out of pure love, and with concern that I write. I earnestly wish your soul’s welfare. O pray for mine also. The Lord preserve you!

“Could you, think you, live upon the income of your fellowship? If you can, do. The trustees are, indeed, very willing to support you, and they would take it ill should anybody say that you have been too expensive. But the Bishop of London, as I have heard, and some others, have been offended at the expenses, and not altogether without reason, because you declared, at your leaving England, you should want scarce anything. I just give you these hints. Pray for direction, and then act as you judge best.[72]

“Charles is so reserved; I know little about him. He neither writes to me, nor comes to see me. What he intends is best known to himself. Mr. Hutton’s family go on exceedingly well. Your friend Mr. Morgan, I hear, either has, or, is about publishing a book, to prove that every one baptized with water is regenerate. All friends at Oxford go on well. Mr. Kinchin, Mr. Hutchins, Mr. Washington, Bell, Hervey, Watson, are all zealous. Mr. Atkinson labours under severe trials in Westmoreland, but is steady and sincere, and an excellent Christian. Dick Smith is weak, but not utterly gone. Mr. Robson and Grieves are but indifferent. The latter is married to a widow, and teaching a school at Northampton. Mr. Thompson, of Queen’s, has declared his resolution of following Christ.

“Remember me to Mr. Wallis, Mark Hird, and the Davison family, Mrs. Gilbert Mears, Mr. Campbell, Mr. and Mrs. Burnside, Mr. and Mrs. Williamson.

“Yours in Christ,

“B. Ingham.”

“Osset, near Wakefield, October 22, 1737.

“My dear Brother,—Your letter is just come to my hands. I rejoiced over it, because it came from you. I was afraid you had been almost lost; but, since I see you are desirous to make full proof of your ministry, I greatly rejoice. Blessed be the Lord, who, by His grace, preserves me from falling, amidst the deceitful and alluring, bewildering temptations of worldly preferment. May He still continue His loving-kindness towards you! May He thoroughly settle and establish you! May you have power to overcome the world, the flesh, and the devil, and, like a brave soldier, manfully to fight under Christ’s banner! May your one desire of living be for Christ’s sake, and the gospel!

“I have no other thoughts but of returning to America. When the time comes, I trust the Lord will show me. My heart’s desire is, that the Indians may hear the gospel. For this I pray both night and day.

“I will transcribe the Indian words as fast as I can. I writ to Mr. William Delamotte three weeks ago. If he did not receive the letter, it miscarried. I wish you could inform me, that I might write again.

“I have just now been talking to Mr. Godly, curate of Osset. (You know, I believe, that he is misnamed.) I was all on a tremble while I talked to him, and for a good while after. He took my reproof very uneasily. But, however, he trembled as well as me. I have lent him ‘The Country Parson’ to read; and, since he went away, I have been praying for him in agony. I seem to be full of hope, as if God would turn his heart; and O that He may! One of the wickedest women in all Osset is turned since I came down; and, I believe, she will make a thorough convert. She says, she is sure God sent me to turn her heart. To His holy name be all the glory! There is another poor soul too here, that is under the most severe agonies of repentance. Cease not to pray for these, and the rest of your Christian friends at Osset, who pray constantly for you.

“Last Sunday, I preached such a sermon at Wakefield church as has set almost all about us in a uproar. Some say, the devil is in me; others, that I am mad. Others say, no man can live up to such doctrine; and they never heard such before. Others, again, extol me to the sky. They say, it was the best sermon they ever heard in all their life; and that I ought to be a bishop.

“I believe, indeed, it went to the hearts of several persons; for I was enabled to speak with great authority and power; and I preached almost the whole sermon without book. There was a vast large congregation, and tears fell from many eyes. To-morrow, I preach there again.

“Every day, I undergo several changes within me. Now I am under sufferings, sometimes just ready to sink; then again I am filled with joy. Indeed, I receive so much pleasure in conversing with some Christians here, that I have need of sufferings to counterbalance it. Last Saturday night, we were sixteen that sat up till after twelve. We have to meet again to-night, after the rest are gone; and we shall pray for you, and the rest of our Christian friends everywhere. You would think yourself happy to be but one night with us.

“Give my sincere love to Mr. Hutton’s family, whom I never forget. Are they all well? The Lord bless them all! Greet brother Whitefield. My heart will be with you on the seas, and everywhere. Never be discouraged.

“Yours sincerely and affectionately,

“B. Ingham.”[73]

“The worthy count is occupied day and night in the work of the Lord; and, I must confess, that the Lord is really among the Brethren. Yesterday, a boy of eleven or twelve years of age was baptized; and such a movement of the Holy Spirit pervaded the whole assembly, as I have never seen at any baptism. I felt that my heart burned within me, and I could not refrain from tears. I saw that others felt as I did, and the whole congregation was moved. The Brethren have shown me much affection; they have taken me to their conferences, and have not left me in ignorance of anything concerning their Church. I am much pleased with my journey.”

“About three in the morning, as we were continuing instant in prayer, the power of God came mightily upon us, insomuch that many cried out for exceeding joy, and many fell to the ground. As soon as we were recovered a little from the awe and amazement at the presence of His Majesty, we broke out with one voice, ‘We praise Thee, O God; we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord.’”[77]

“We continued in fasting and prayer till three o’clock, and then parted, with a full conviction that God was about to do great things among us. O that we may be any way instrumental to His glory! O that He would make us vessels pure and holy, meet for such a dear Master’s use!”[78]

“Osset, Sept. 14, 1739.

“My dear Brother,—Wait the Lord’s leisure, and be still. His time is the best time. ‘Be strong, and He shall comfort thine heart; and put thou thy trust in the Lord.’

“I shall be very glad to see you, when the Lord pleases that we shall meet together. O that we may do and suffer His will in all things! It is following our own wills that creates us trouble and confusion.

“All your opposition will work together for good. The more the clergy oppose the truth, the more it will prevail. Their preaching against us and our doctrines excites a curiosity in the people to hear us, and to see if these things be true, whereby many have their eyes opened. If this work is of God, it cannot be overthrown: if it be of men, I wish it may speedily. We have nothing to do but to follow our Leader. O that He may direct all our ways aright!

“I say very little about the clergy in public. I preach the truth of the gospel, according to the light the Lord has given me into it, and leave it to the Lord to bless it as He pleases. I take no notice of lies and calumnies, unless I am asked whether or no they are true. It is endless to answer all that is said. Our Saviour says, ‘Let them alone.’ He is concerned for the welfare of His Church; let us, therefore, depend upon Him, and let us mind what He says to us in His holy word. Let us love our enemies, and pray for them; and let us love one another; and thereby shall all men know that we are His true disciples. We must be hated in this world; let us, therefore, take great care to secure ourselves an inheritance in the next.

“Benjamin Ingham.”

“Osset, February 20, 1740.

“My dear Brother,—The most dangerous time in the Christian race, seems to be when a person receives the forgiveness of sins, especially if he is filled with great joy, and of long continuance. Indeed, all states of great joy are dangerous, if not humbly received. If persons have not now a guide, or are not guidable, it is ten to one but they run into error and by-paths. Many souls miscarry here, and never get further in their spiritual progress. They run on till their joy and strength are spent, and then they lose themselves, and are all in confusion. I have met with several persons with whom it has been thus, and how to help them I know not. They do not get forward. I believe, indeed, that they will be saved, yet their degree in glory will be low. They are but in the first stage of the new birth.

“You ask, What are the marks of a person who is justified, and not sealed?[79]

“I cannot give you any certain, infallible marks; but a person to whom the Lord has given the gift of discerning will tell; and, without the gift, we shall never be able to know surely. However, such persons are meek, simple, and childlike; they have doubts and fears within; they are in a wilderness state. In this state, they are to be kept still and quiet; to search more deeply into their hearts, so that they become more and more poor in spirit, or humble. They are likewise now taught to depend wholly on Christ. By all means, keep them from confusion. If they come into confusion (as they are apt to do), they receive inconceivable damage; but, if they continue still meek and gentle, searching into their hearts, and depending upon Christ, they will find their hearts to be sweetly drawn after Christ; they will begin to loathe and abhor sin, and to hunger and thirst after righteousness; they will get strength daily; Christ will begin to manifest Himself by degrees; the darkness will vanish, and the day-star will arise in their hearts. Thus they go on from strength to strength, till they become strong, and then they will begin to see things clearly, and to understand what the Lord has done for them; so, by degrees, they will come to have the assurance of faith.

“You ask whether, in this intermediate state, they are ‘children of wrath, or heirs of the promises’?

“Without doubt, they are children of God; they are in a state of salvation. A child may be heir to an estate before it can speak, or know what an estate is; so we may be heirs of heaven before we know it, or are made sure of it. However, the assurance of faith is to be sought after. It may be attained; it will be given to all who go forward. We must first be humble and poor in spirit. We must be deeply so. We must have a constant, fixed, abiding feeling,—a sense of our weakness and unworthiness, corruption, sin, and misery. This it is to be a poor sinner.

“If I were with you, I would explain things more largely; but I am a novice,—I am but a beginner,—a babe in Christ. If you go amongst the Brethren, they are good guides; but yet, after all, we must be taught of God, and have experience in our own hearts; or else it will not do. May the Spirit of truth lead us into all truth!

“I am your poor, unworthy brother,

“B. Ingham.”

“Savannah, March 28, 1740.

“How glad I should be of a letter from dear brother Ingham. When shall my soul be refreshed, with hearing that the work of the Lord prospers in his hand? I suppose before now you have received my letters and seen my journal. I believe God is yet preparing great things for us. Many at Charles-Town lately were brought to see their want of Jesus Christ. The Orphan House goes on bravely. I have forty children to maintain, besides workmen and their assistants. The great Householder of the world does, and will, I am persuaded, richly provide for us all. The colony itself is in a very declining way; but our extremity is God’s opportunity. Our brethren, I trust, go forwards in the spiritual life. I have often great inward trials. I believe it to be God’s will that I should marry. One, who may be looked upon as a superior, is absolutely necessary for the due management of affairs. However, I pray God, that I may not have a wife, till I can live as though I had none. You may communicate this to some of our intimates; for I would call Christ and His disciples to the marriage. If I am deluded, pray that God would reveal it to your most affectionate brother and servant,

“George Whitefield.”

“They begged I would not tell any one that my sins were forgiven, for no one would believe me, and they should be ashamed to show their faces in the street. I answered, ‘I shall not be ashamed to tell what God has done for my soul, if I could speak loud enough for all the men in the world to hear me at once.’ My mother said, ‘Your head is turned.’ I replied, ‘Yes, and my heart too, I thank the Lord.’”

“As soon as I got into the house, he called me into the parlour, and desired the company that was with him to go out, for he had something to say to me. When they went, he rose up, barred the door, then sat down, and asked me, ‘Do you know your own heart, think you?’ I answered, ‘Not rightly; but I know Jesus Christ, and He knows and has taken possession of it; and though it be deceitful, yet He can subdue it to Himself; and I trust He will’. He said, ‘Have you not deceived yourself with thinking that your sins are forgiven, and that you are in a state of grace? I was three years seeking before I found Him.’ I replied, ‘Suppose you were, do you confine God to be three years in converting every soul, because you were so long? God is able to convert a soul in three days now, as He was to convert St. Paul seventeen hundred years ago.’ I then began to tell him what I had seen at London under Mr. Wesley’s preaching. He said he pitied poor Mr. Wesley, for he was ignorant of his own state; and he spoke as if he believed Mr. Wesley to be an unconverted man; at which words my corrupt nature began to stir. But it came to my mind, ‘The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God’; and I lifted up my heart to the Lord, and my mind was calmed in a moment. He said, ‘You ought not to tell people that they may know their sins forgiven, for the world cannot bear it; and if such a thing were preached, it would raise persecution.’ I replied, ‘Let them quake that fear. By the grace of God, I love every man, but fear no man; and I will tell all I can, that there is such a prize to run for. If I hide it, mischief will come upon me. There is a famine in the land; and I see myself in the case of the lepers that were at the gate of Samaria, who found provisions in the enemy’s camp; and, when they had eat and drank, and loaded themselves, said, “We do not well; for this is a day of glad tidings, let us go and make it known to the king’s household.” When I found God’s wrath removed, for the sake of His dear Son, I saw provision enough for my poor fainting soul, and for all the world if they would come for it. I believe it is a sin not to declare to the children of men what God has done for my soul, that they may seek for the same mercy.’ He told me, I had nothing to do with the Old Testament, or to make comparisons from anything in it. I answered, ‘I have as much to do with it as with the New Testament.’ He replied, ‘I would not have you speak any more to the people till you are better acquainted with your own heart.’ I told him, I would not in his societies, unless I was desired; but what I did in my own house, or any other person’s that requested me, he had no business with. I added, ‘I do not belong to you; and though I have heard you several times, it is no benefit to me; for I have experienced more of the grace of God than ever I heard you preach of it, or any one else since I left London.’”

“Soon after Mr. Ingham came out and began to preach; when I was greatly surprised; for what he had forbidden me to do, he himself did directly; for he told the people, that night, they must know their sins forgiven in this world or go to hell.”[80]

“1740. May 22.—I found our dear brother Ingham at Mr. West’s. The holiday mob were very outrageous at the Foundery. God filled my mouth with threatenings and promises; and, at last, we got the victory, and the fiercest rioters were overawed into silence.

“May 25.—At the lovefeast, I was overwhelmed with the burden of our brethren, with such visible signs of dejection, that several, I was since informed, were in great hopes that I was now coming down in my pride, or unsettling, and coming into confusion. Indeed, my faith did well-nigh fail me; for in spite of the seeming reconciliation which brother Ingham forces them into, it is impossible we should ever be of one mind, unless they are convinced of their abrogating the law of Christian ordinances, and taking away the children’s bread.

“May 27.—I rejoiced to find no difference betwixt my brother Ingham and me. He has honestly withstood the deluded brethren; contradicted their favourite errors, and constrained them to be still. That blot he easily hit: ‘You say no man must speak of what he has not experienced; you, Oxley and Simpson, say that one in the Gospel-liberty can have no stirrings of sin.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Are you in Gospel-liberty?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then out of your own mouth I judge you: you speak of things which you know not of.’

“June 2.—I preached up the ordinances, as they call it, from Isaiah lviii.; but first, with the prophet, I preached them down. Telchig” [Toltschig], “Ingham, etc., were present, which made me use greater plainness, that they might set me right, if I mistook.

“June 11.—I returned” [from the Delamotte family at Blendon] “to be exercised by our still brethren’s contradiction. My brother proposed new-modelling the bands, and setting by themselves those few who were still for the ordinances. Great clamour was raised by this proposal. The noisy still ones well knew that they had carried their point by wearying out the sincere ones scattered among them; so that a remnant is scarcely left. They grudged us even this remnant, which would soon be all their own, unless immediately rescued out of their hands. Benjamin Ingham seconded us, and obtained that the names should be called over, and as many as were aggrieved put into new books.

“We gathered up our wreck,—raros nantes in gurgite vasto; for nine out of ten are swallowed up in the dead sea of stillness. O, why was not this done six months ago? How fatal was our delay and moderation! ‘Let them alone, and they will soon be weary, and come to themselves of course,’ said one,—unus qui nobis cunctando restituet rem! I tremble at the consequence. Will they submit themselves to every ordinance of man, who refuse subjection to the ordinances of God? I told them plainly, I should only continue with them so long as they continued in the Church of England. My every word was grievous to them. I am a thorn in their sides, and they cannot bear me.

“They modestly denied that we had any but hearsay proof of their denying the ordinances. I asked them all and every one, particularly Bray, Bell, etc., whether they would now acknowledge them to be commands or duties; whether they sinned in omitting them; whether they did not leave it to every man’s fancy to use them or not; whether they did not exclude all from the Lord’s table, except those whom they called believers. These questions I put too close to be evaded; though better dodgers never came out of the school of Loyola. Honest Bell and some others spoke out, and insisted upon their antichristian liberty. The rest put by their stillness, and delivered me over to Satan for a blasphemer, a very Saul (for to him they compare me), out of blind zeal persecuting the Church of Christ.”[81]

“1740. June 18.—I went to our own society, of Fetter Lane, before whom Mr. Ingham (being to leave London on the morrow) bore a noble testimony for the ordinances of God, and the reality of weak faith.[82] But the short answer was, ‘You are blind, and speak of the things you know not.’”[83]

“Boston, September 26th, 1740.

“My dear Brother Ingham,—I thank you for your kind letter. It is the first I have received from you since I left England. I bless God, that the work goes on in Yorkshire. May our glorious, sin-forgiving Lord, bless you and your spiritual children more and more!

“I find our friends are got into disputing one with another. O, that the God of peace may put a stop to it! I wish many may not be building on a false foundation, and resting in a false peace. They own free justification, and yet seem to think that their continuance in a justified state depends on their doings and their wills. This, I think, is establishing a righteousness of our own. My dear brother, if we search the Scriptures, we shall find that the word justified implies, not only pardon of sin, but also all its consequences. ‘Thus,’ says St. Paul, ‘those whom He justified, them He also glorified;’ so that, if a man was once justified, he remains so to all eternity. There lies the anchor of all my hopes,—our Lord having once loved me, He will love me to the end. This fills me with joy unspeakable and full of glory. I now walk by faith. I work not to keep myself in a justified state, (for men nor devils can pluck me out of Christ’s hands,) but to express my love and gratitude for what Jesus hath done for my soul. This, I think, is what the apostle calls, ‘faith working by love.’

“My dear brother, my heart’s desire and prayer to God is, that we may all think and speak the same things; for, if we are divided among ourselves, what an advantage will Satan get over us! Let us love one another, excite all to come to Christ without exception, and our Lord will show us who are His.

“With difficulty, I get time to write this, but I must answer dear brother Ingham’s letter. May the Lord Jesus be continually with your spirit, and make your soul brimful of peace and joy in the Holy Ghost! I love you in the bowels of the crucified Lamb. May He unite us more and more intimately to His dear self, and to one another! Salute all that love Him in sincerity. That you may be kept by God’s power to eternal salvation, is the prayer of your most affectionate, though unworthy brother and poor weak servant in Christ,

“George Whitefield.”

“There are now upwards of fifty societies, where the people meet for edification; and of two thousand hearers of the gospel, I know, at least, three hundred on whose hearts the Spirit of God works powerfully; and one hundred who have found grace in the blood and the atonement of Jesus.”

“I was desired once more to go to Gomersal Field House to speak to Mr. Ingham. When I got there, David Taylor was with him, and spoke kindly to me. When Mr. Taylor was gone, Mr. Ingham began to talk to me about making division among the Brethren. I told him, I did not want to make division; I wanted the people to be saved. He said, ‘We cannot receive you or Mr. Wesley into our community[86] till he publicly declares he has printed false doctrine, and you declare you have preached false.’ I said, ‘Wherein?’ He then burst out into laughter, and said, ‘In telling the people they may live without committing sin.’[87] I replied, ‘Do you call that false doctrine?’ He answered, ‘I do, I do; and Mr. Wesley has written false doctrine, teaching the same errors.’ He quoted some words; then I said, ‘They are not Mr. Wesley’s, but St John’s words; it is St. John who says, “Let no man deceive you; he that doeth righteousness is righteous, and he that committeth sin is of the devil.” So, if St. John be right, every one who preacheth contrary to what Mr. Wesley has written here, and what I have preached, is a deceiver and betrayer of souls.’ ‘If that be your opinion,’ said Mr. Ingham, ‘we cannot receive you into our Church.’ I replied, ‘I don’t want to be one of you, for I am a member of the Church of England.’ He answered, ‘The Church of England is no Church; we are the Church.’ I said, ‘We! Whom do you mean?’ He replied, ‘I and the Moravian Brethren.’ I said, ‘I have no desire to have any fellowship with you or them; it has been better for my soul since I have been wholly separated from you, and God has blessed my labours more since I was told, they had delivered me up to Satan, than ever before; therefore, I think it better to have their curse than to have communion with them.’ He replied, ’ If you think so, I have no more to say to you;’ and then, he turned his back on me.”

“Mr. Ingham hearing of this, came to Birstal, inquired into the facts, talked with John himself, and examined him in the closest manner, both touching his knowledge and spiritual experience; after which he encouraged him to proceed; and pressed him, as often as he had opportunity, to come to any of the places where himself had been, and speak to the people as God should enable him. But he soon gave offence, both by his plainness of speech, and by advising the people to go to church and sacrament. Mr. Ingham reproved him: and, finding him incorrigible, forbad any that were in his societies to hear him. But, being persuaded this is the will of God concerning him, he continues to this hour working in the day, that he may be burdensome to no man; and, in the evening, ‘testifying the truth as it is in Jesus.’”[88]

“Osset, September 20, 1740.

“My Dear Brother,—I have not heard anything of you this long time. As to myself, I am exceeding happy.[90] The Lord Jesus, my dear Redeemer, is abundantly gracious and bountiful towards me. I have, and do daily taste of His goodness. I am ashamed before Him; I am so very unworthy, and He is so very kind and merciful. My heart melts within me, at the thoughts of Him. He is all love. I am a sinful, helpless worm.

“In Yorkshire, the Lord still keeps carrying on His work. Many souls are truly awakened: some have obtained mercy. The enemies are engaged against us; but the Lord is our helper. We have great peace, and love, and unity amongst ourselves. We have no differences, no divisions, no disputings. May He, who is the giver of every good and perfect gift, grant us always to be like-minded; and may we and our friends grow in grace, and increase in love towards one another, that, by this mark, all men may know that we belong to Christ!

“I remain your affectionate, though unworthy brother,

“B. Ingham.”[91]

“We, in London,” writes James Hutton, “cannot spare Toltschig until Spangenberg comes to us. We here all think he will be useful to Ingham and the souls there. They must seize the opportunity presented. The souls in Yorkshire are more simple-hearted than those in London, where they are more knowing; and they do not, like those in town, quibble at every word. Toltschig is known in Yorkshire, where the souls love him, and he can speak to them with confidence. We want a thorough brother, fundamentally correct, and of large experience, for the souls in London, able to attend our bands and conferences, and to address our meetings. Toltschig is very well in bands and conferences, but he cannot preach.”[92]

“1741. August 1.—I had a long conversation with Mr. Ingham. We both agreed,—1. That none shall finally be saved, who have not, as they had opportunity, done all good works; and, 2. That if a justified person does not do good, as he has opportunity, he will lose the grace he has received; and, if he ‘repent’ not, ‘and do the former works,’ will perish eternally. But with regard to the unjustified (if I understand him), we wholly disagreed. He believed, it is not the will of God, that, we should wait for faith in doing good. I believe, this is the will of God; and that, they will never find Him, unless they seek Him in this way.”

“1742, August 3.—I preached at Mirfield, where I found Mr. Ingham had been an hour before. Great part of the day, I spent in speaking with those who have tasted the powers of the world to come; by whose concurrent testimony I find, that, Mr. Ingham’s method to this day is,—1. To endeavour to persuade them, that they are in a delusion, and have indeed no faith at all: if this cannot be done, then, 2. To make them keep it to themselves; and, 3. To prevent them going to the church or sacrament; at least to guard them from having any reverence, or expecting to find any blessing in those ordinances of God. In the evening, I preached at Adwalton, a mile from Birstal. After preaching, and the next day, I spoke with more, who had, or sought for, redemption through Christ; all of whom I perceived had been advised also, to put their light under a bushel; or to forsake the ordinances of God, in order to find Christ.”[93]

“You have no doubt seen an account, in the public prints, of the riot we had in this county. It took place at Dewsbury, where Mr. Ingham has propagated Methodism. Some will have him to be the author of this insurrection, by preaching up, as he certainly did, a community of goods, as was practised by the Primitive Christians. How much he may have contributed towards raising the mob, I will not pretend to say; but what I am going to tell you of this clergyman, is matter of fact. I can prove it, and you may make what use of it you think proper. A gentleman of Leeds, who was one of Mr. Ingham’s followers, asked him what difference there was between the Church of England and his way of worship? To which Mr. Ingham replied, ‘The Church of England is the scarlet whore, prophesied of in the Revelation; and there will be no true Christianity as long as that Church subsists.’

“Your humble Servant.”[97]

“London, June 14, 1740.

“Mr. Hooker,—In your paper of June 8, you inserted a letter from Yorkshire concerning me. Had I followed my own inclination, I should have taken no more notice of this than of another falsity that was printed some time ago in the News, that the woollen manufacture in Yorkshire was likely to be ruined, implying, by me; and of many more, spread up and down, by common report, which often contradict one another. But the advice of friends has prevailed with me to write this, in answer to what the author of that letter charges me with.

“The author of the letter charges me with two things: directly and indirectly:—

“As to the riot that was lately in Yorkshire, he does not say directly that I was the cause of it; but he insinuates something like it, as being the consequence of my doctrine. But if this person was not sure that I was the cause of this insurrection, it is very unbecoming, either of a Christian or a gentleman, to hint at such a thing. When the riot happened, I was absent from Dewsbury parish, at the time and several days after. I neither knew nor heard anything of it till it was over. As soon as I heard of it, I spoke against it as a very wicked thing, and of dangerous consequence. I inquired particularly whether any persons that frequented the societies were in it. I heard of three. But one of them had been turned out some weeks before for misbehaviour. The other two, I ordered to be turned out directly, and publicly disowned; though, I believe, they, as many more, were drawn to run among the rabble, through weakness and curiosity. The gentleman says, some will have me to be the author of the insurrection. It is true, they say so. And, indeed, everything that comes amiss is laid to my charge. They said I was the occasion of the wet season last summer; of the long frost in winter; of the present war; and, if it blows a storm, some or other say I am the cause of it. But this is the talk of the vulgar; men of sense know better. Does not every one know that, they say, a common report is generally false?

“But, further, to the second charge. Supposing I had preached up a community of goods, as this gentleman positively asserts (which I never did), would it thence follow, that people have a liberty to plunder; that they may take away their neighbour’s goods by force? If the one was a necessary consequence of the other, then the apostles and first Christians were much to blame in what they did. If all were real Christians, yet it would not be necessary to have a community of goods. None were obliged to it in the apostles’ days. They entered into it willingly. But in the present state of things, it would be both absurd and impracticable to attempt such a thing. What might make some people think that I maintained this doctrine, perhaps, was this. I once preached a charity sermon at Leeds, I think, from these words: ‘And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and soul; neither said any of them that ought of the things which he possessed were his own; but they had all things common.’ But I nowhere asserted therein, that we were now obliged to do as they then did. I only exhorted my hearers to imitate the good examples of the primitive Christians, and to contribute generously to the wants of their poor brethren, according to their ability. Now, if this gentleman’s mistake arose from this sermon, if he thinks it worth his while to come over to Osset, after my return into Yorkshire,—I promise to let him see the sermon, as I preached it (for it is not altered), that he may be fully satisfied; for I neither did, nor do preach up a community of goods.

“The third thing which the author of the letter lays to my charge, and which he says is matter of fact, and which he can prove, is this: A gentleman of Leeds, who was one of my followers, asked what difference there was between the Church of England and my way of worship? To which, he says, I replied, ‘The Church of England is the scarlet whore, prophesied of in the Revelation; and there will be no true Christianity as long as that Church subsists.’ Now, supposing any gentleman should have asked me such a question (which I do not remember), do these words look like a pertinent answer to such a question? I never pretended to set up a new way of worship. I still live in the communion of the Church of England. My neighbours can testify that I go to church constantly, and receive the sacrament. But, further, I am sure that I never did, nor could say these words; for they are contrary to my settled judgment. I may have said words like these, yet quite different in their meaning.

“It has been a very common thing for people to misrepresent my sense, and to run away with half a sentence. When I have been preaching the doctrine of universal redemption, and asserting that God made no man purposely to be damned, but that He would have all to be saved, some have reported that I maintained, nobody would be damned. When I have been declaring the riches of God’s love and mercy, in receiving the greatest sinners, coming to Him through Christ, some have said that I gave people liberty to live as they list. And, again, when I have been speaking of that purity of heart and holiness of life which the gospel requires, some have said (and it is the general outcry), according to my doctrine, nobody can be saved. I scarce ever preach a sermon but somebody or other misrepresents it. But, I am afraid, I have deviated too much in mentioning these things.

“To return then. I have said that Babylon and the whore, mentioned in the Revelation, relate to more Churches than one; and that the Church of England is concerned therein as well as other Churches; but I never said that she was the scarlet whore. I believe, indeed, that, by Babylon and the whore, the Church of Rome is chiefly and principally meant; but, yet, the Scripture saith, she sitteth upon many waters; i.e., people and multitudes, and nations and tongues, all sects and parties (Rev. xvii. 15). For Babylon signifies confusion; and by the scarlet whore is meant corruption, or departing from the truth either in principle or practice (Hos. i. 2; ii. 5). Babylon, therefore, or the whore is in, and may be applied to, every Church and person, where there is not a perfect self-denial and entire resignation to God. And are there not multitudes of persons in every Church in Christendom, and consequently in the Church of England, who greatly depart from the truth as it is in Jesus?

“As to the latter part of this accusation,—‘There will be no true Christianity as long as that Church exists,’—I absolutely deny that I could say so; because I believe there always was, always will be, and now is, a true Church of Christ, against which the gates of hell cannot prevail. I believe, likewise, that many of the Church of England, and some out of every sect and party, are members of this true Church of Christ. I have, indeed, often said that there is a glorious state of the Church to come, when the partition wall of bigotry, sect, religion, and party zeal will be broken down; and the Jews will be called; and the fulness of the Gentiles shall come in; and the whole earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. I do not pretend to know when this time will be; but whenever it commences there will be another face of things in Christendom. The outward pomp and grandeur of the Church will be diminished, and the inward beauty will appear the brighter. The spirit of primitive Christianity will be revived; and, probably, the last state of the Church will be more glorious than the first. It will be happy for them who live in those days; but yet, in the meantime, I believe and hope many will be saved out of all Churches or societies of Christians, and meet together in that blessed place, where there will be no difference or disputing, but all will be love and joy and peace.

“I am, sir, your humble Servant,

“B. Ingham.”[98]

“If I recollect the many instances of the great want of simplicity, sincerity, and regard to truth, which some other teachers among the Methodists have discovered, I should naturally suspect that Mr. Ingham may not have given a fair account of his case. Or, if I judge of his probity in this instance by his conduct in others, the presumption of insincerity must lie against him. Nay, I think, there are some grounds of suspicion in his defence. But what I insist upon is this,—that his public conduct is insincere and dishonest. While he owns that he communicates with the Church of England, and by communicating with her, he subjects himself to her authority, he sets up separate meetings in opposition to it, in defiance of it, nay, in defiance of all authority, both civil and ecclesiastical. By this illegal, disobedient behaviour to the laws of that Church and of that civil society, of which he is a member, he has given just and great scandal to all good Christians. In cases of public scandal, the laws of Christianity and of common charity require the person who gives it to ask public pardon, to alter his public conduct, or publicly to vindicate it.”

“There were more of Mr. Ingham’s followers concerned in the riot than he would have the world to believe. For one fellow, who had lived with him several months under the same roof, was one of the ring-leaders of the rioters,—a very busy man in breaking the miller’s utensils, and a kind of helper of those to wheat flour who had no right to it. This godly man fled from justice, and has not since been heard of. Another of Mr. Ingham’s admirers at Osset very carefully helped himself at the mill; and he also absconded, till, as he thought, the danger was over, and now he appears again. A third of the Methodists concerned in this riot, was taken up by some of his Majesty’s justices of the peace, and was sent to York among other criminals, where he awaits his trial at the next assizes. If Mr. Ingham had inquired as particularly as he pretends, he would have ascertained that when these outrageous men gathered from several towns to seize upon Mr. Pollard’s corn at Crigglestone, there were not only two, but two hundred, perhaps many more, of his followers mixed with others in the same wicked design.

“This gentleman denies that he ever preached up a community of goods; and yet one of his former hearers at Osset, who is now returned to the Church, assured me that Mr. Ingham had often done that, and had told his auditors, ‘That none of them need to labour, for God would provide for them; and that they must throw themselves upon Jesus Christ, their whole life being spent in religious exercises being no more than sufficient to save their souls; for they who were rich ought to supply the wants of the poor.’ ‘So,’ says he, ‘had I followed Mr. Ingham’s advice, I should not have been worth a groat.’ And even Mr. Ingham’s brother declared, ‘If I mind our Ben, he will preach me out of all I have.’ This information I had from Mr. Glover, of Osset. I am far from thinking Mr. Ingham persuaded any to rise in this tumultuous manner, and charitably hope he did not approve of the riot; yet, when all circumstances are laid together, it is a great presumption that his preaching up a community of goods to men of low condition, was an encouragement to them in this dear season to make bold with more than their own.”

“As to the charge about ‘the scarlet whore,’ the writer acknowledges that when the gentleman in Leeds, who had given the information, was cross-examined, ‘he quibbled, gave ambiguous answers, and, in short, could be fixed to nothing.’”

“Mr. Ingham has preached in a croft at Osset to a confused number of people, drawn together from several parishes, which more resembled a bear-baiting than an orderly congregation for the worship of God. When Mr. Rogers,[99] one of his fellow-itinerants, came into these parts, he accompanied him to Westgate-Moor, adjoining to Wakefield, and stood by him, while the other harangued the mob from a stool or table. Mr. Rogers, in preaching from ‘Beware of dogs,’ advised his hearers to beware of the ministers of the present age; for all the ministers now-a-days preach false doctrine to tickle their carnal ears, that they may fill their coffers with money, and preach their souls to the devil. Another of Mr. Ingham’s associates, Mr. Delamotte, who is still a laic, being asked by a clergyman why he did not proceed regularly for a degree, and then for orders, answered, ‘If you mean episcopal ordination, I assure you I think the gospel of Jesus Christ has nothing to do with it.’ Rogers also told the same clergyman, that he was ‘as much inspired as St. Paul was, except the working of miracles; and that he could not commit actual sin.’ Besides all this, Mr. Ingham keeps his meetings, unauthorized by law, at Dewsbury, Osset, Mirfield, and other places, particularly at Horbury, in this parish, where he prays, sings, expounds, preaches, and visits the sick, without the consent or knowledge of the minister who resides there, though he is always ready to discharge his duty, and is much superior to Mr. Ingham in every respect for the discharge of it. As to the services he uses, it is a medley of his own; for though he makes use of the Common Prayer, he disguises and spoils it by his own additions. Much more might be said about his disorderly meetings, particularly locking himself up with a select number of his hearers till midnight, or after.”

“Let this intruder, who pretends to act as a minister of the Established Church, say by what Canon in any General Council, by what Constitution in any National Church, he takes upon himself to wander from place to place, sometimes preaching in the fields, and sometimes creeping into private houses, to the great disturbance and disquiet of the lawfully appointed ministers, and raising schisms and distractions in a Church established upon primitive antiquity.”[100]

“Whatever sorry evasions Mr. Ingham may make to extenuate his wickedness in being instrumental to the riot at Dewsbury; yet, it is certain that he is highly culpable, and was, if not at the bottom, the sole cause of it. The principles he instils into his adherents are such as, when known, no better consequences could be expected than those that have followed: and what further mischief may ensue, if he be not restrained, is shocking to consider:—no less than the introducing of Popery, or, at least, some measures of his own destructive to the tranquillity and happiness of the community.”

“Ingham’s conduct was, at that time, so much taken notice of and suspected, that the magistrates were almost determined to apprehend him, as a disturber and incendiary; and, I believe, were only deterred from it, in consideration of what might happen from the fierceness and fury of his adherents. Were it requisite, I could name several of his great favourites and abettors, who had no small share in these disturbances. I myself heard two of his principal associates, three days before the affair happened, insinuate that such a thing was shortly to be expected, and that the people might be justified in what they did. Whence we may reasonably presume, that this horrid villany could nowhere be hatched but in these infernal assemblies.”... “I can prove by the incontestable evidence of great numbers, both of his constant and accidental hearers, that a community of goods is a common topic of discourse with him, in his sermons, in his expositions, and in his private conversation also. I know, that, he has endeavoured to persuade several of his followers to sell their estates and possessions, as the first Christians did, for the relief of their poor brethren; and that he has declared over and over, That private property was inconsistent with Christianity; and that as long as any one had anything of his own, he could not enter into the kingdom of heaven.”... “It is surprising to the last degree that a set of incorrigible wretches should be thus suffered to trample with impunity on all laws, ecclesiastical and civil; to spread doctrines subversive both to religion and the state; to form secret assemblies and cabals, in order to disturb the repose of society, and throw everything into confusion and disorder. No one in the world is a heartier friend to toleration, or would make more favourable allowances to tender consciences, than myself; but, God forbid! that, under the notion of toleration, we should give opportunity to cheats and impostors to sow their hemlock and nightshade among us; to extirpate all traces of true religion and virtue; or to traitors and rebels to sap the foundation of our civil constitution; to deliver up our king and our country to ruin.”

“London, August 6th, 1741.

“Dear Sir,—I have here sent you the letters I promised you. I am also to inform you, that you are chosen to be a corresponding member of the ‘Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel.’ Before you expressed your desire to me, I had already proposed you to the committee, who all approved of you; and, after the meeting was over, when I mentioned you to the society, they all unanimously chose you without balloting; so that, when you are in London, you will not only have the liberty to hear the letters and accounts read, but also to meet with the members about business,—and, further, to be in the committee. The brethren will be glad to hear from you as often as you please, and they, from time to time, will send you some accounts of the transactions of the Society. I gave what you entrusted me with to the box. Mr. Moody gave a guinea. Brother Spangenberg and all the brethren salute you.

“Your affectionate friend and brother in Christ,

“B. Ingham.”

“Northampton, August 8th, 1741.

“Rev. and dear Brother,—I am thankful to the ‘Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel’ for their readiness to admit so unworthy a member, and hope, as the Lord shall enable me, to approve myself cordially affectionate, though incapable of giving much assistance.

“I did this day, in our Church meeting, publicly report some important facts from Brother Hutton and others, as to the success of our dear Moravian Brethren and their associates. We rejoiced in the Lord at the joyful tidings, and joined in recommending them to the grace of God. I hope Providence will enable me to be a little serviceable to this good design. I shall gladly continue to correspond with the Society, and gladly hope to have some good news from these parts ere long. In the mean time, I humbly commend myself to your prayers and theirs.

“The conversation at Mr. Moody’s, on Monday morning, has left a deep impression on my heart. Salute my dear brethren, Messrs. Spangenberg and Kinchin, with Mr. Hutton, etc. I shall hope to hear when that blessed herald of our Redeemer, Count Zinzendorf, arrives. We long to see you. God brought me home in peace, and I found all well here. My wife and other friends salute you in the Lord.

“I am, dear sir, your unworthy but affectionate friend in our gracious Lord,

“Philip Doddridge.

“P.S.—I have looked over several of the letters with great pleasure, and heartily thank you for sending them. Glory be to Him, who causes His gospel to triumph, and magnifies the riches of His grace in getting Himself the victory, by soldiers, who, out of weakness, are made strong. If Christ raise to Himself a seed among the Negroes and Hottentots, I will honour them beyond all the politest nations upon earth that obey not His glorious gospel.”[102]

“London, May 6th, 1743.

“My dear Brother,—Your very kind letter I had not the pleasure of receiving till yesterday. It was very acceptable, and knits my heart closer to you than ever. I love your honest soul, and long for that time when the disciples, of Christ, of different sects, shall be joined in far closer fellowship one with another. Our divisions have grieved my heart. I heartily approve of the meeting of the chief labourers together.

“I am just returned from a circuit of about four hundred miles. I have been as far as Haverfordwest, and was enabled to preach with great power. Thousands and tens of thousands flocked to hear the word, and the souls of God’s children were much refreshed.

“I am glad the Lord hath opened fresh doors for you, my dear brother. The rams’ horns are sounding about Jericho; surely the towering walls will at length fall down. But we must have patience. He that believeth doth not make haste. The rams’ horns must go round seven times. Our divisions in England have the worst aspect, while they are now united in Wales; but even this shall work for good, and cause the Redeemer’s glory to shine more conspicuously. This is my comfort,—‘The government is upon His shoulders,’ and He is a ‘wonderful counsellor.’

“But where am I running? Pardon me. I am writing to my dear Mr. Ingham. I rejoice in the expectation of seeing you in town. I hope to be in town at the time, and to enjoy some of our former happy seasons. In the mean while, I salute you from my inmost soul; and desire, as often as opportunity offers, a close correspondence may be kept up between you and, my dear brother, your most affectionate unworthy brother and servant,

“George Whitefield.”

“That, the London Church should be regarded as a choir of labourers (distinct from the Society and its general meetings, etc.); each member of which was to consider him or herself as in preparation, by the Lord, for future service in any station, post, or office, to which He might call them.

“That this Church, as a body of labourers, consisting of only a few souls who were wholly devoted to our Saviour, might enjoy all the privileges and discipline of a Church elsewhere, which the mere members of Society, by reason of their not dwelling together, could not enjoy.

“That this Church should be in stillness, none knowing of it but such as were in it. (See Rev. ii. 17.) This London Church, also, should cleave to the Pilgrim Church, as the body to its soul.

“The Pilgrim Church was described as a congregation of labourers who go hither and thither; whom no one knows but he to whom it is revealed.[103] Every one who has a whole mind to our Saviour, is a member of it. It is composed of persons who indissolubly cleave together, as a testimony in the Saviour’s wounds, against all who are unfaithful; witnesses whom the Lord will preserve in the hour of trial; souls who neither have nor desire any abiding city in this life, and who labour for the good of others among all religions, but never form themselves into a sect.

“This Church is not the Moravian Church, but its servants, sojourning so long in it as the children and servants of God, or rather the spiritual Church of God, has freedom of action and is acknowledged. This relationship to the Moravian Church remains only so long as she herself abides faithful.

“The connection between London and Yorkshire was thus defined: That London, as a choir of labourers (a small flock hidden as yet and acting quietly), should provide labourers for Yorkshire, and train up souls which were to be sent from Yorkshire for the purpose; Yorkshire being the county where our Saviour exhibited His Church openly, and where, for the present, the congregation of the Brethren should be settled. The London Church being private, was to have a particular connection with Yorkshire, and be, in a measure, dependent upon it, inasmuch as the chief elders were at this time there.”

To the King’s Most Excellent Majesty.—The humble Address of his Majesty’s Protestant subjects, the United Brethren in England, in union with the ancient Protestant Episcopal Bohemian and Moravian Church:—

“Presented to his Majesty by the Rev. Mr. Ingham, Mr. Hutton, Mr. Bell, Registrar of the said Congregation in London.

“Most Gracious Sovereign,—May it please your sacred Majesty graciously to accept this Address, which, with all humility, is presented by your Majesty’s most dutiful and loyal subjects, the United Brethren in England, in union with the Bohemian and Moravian Church.

“We are, though despised and hated, and few in number, a happy people, consisting of persons out of several sects and parties of Protestants, who, from an earnest concern for our own salvation, and a zeal for the good of others, are united together; and, for the sake of her excellent discipline, are in union with the ancient Protestant Episcopal Bohemian and Moravian Church, one of the earliest witnesses against, and sufferers by, the Papists; a sister of the Church of England; their doctrines also, in the fundamental points, being the same.”

“We, therefore, shall stand by your Majesty to the utmost of our power, and especially by our prayers, which are our only weapons.

“May the Lord of hosts direct all your Majesty’s councils and undertakings, and turn the design of all your enemies into foolishness! The Lord our God be with you. Amen.

“Presented in behalf of all the United Brethren in England, in union with the Bohemian and Moravian Church. April 27, 1744.”[104]

“We walked to the new house of the Germans. It stands on the side of a hill, commanding all the vale beneath, and the opposite hill The front is exceeding grand, though plain, being faced with fine, smooth, white stone. The Germans suppose it will cost, by the time it is finished, about three thousand pounds: it is well if it be not nearer ten. But that is no concern to the English Brethren; for they are told (and potently believe), that ‘all the money will come from beyond the sea.’”

“1780. April 17.—I walked to Fulneck, the German settlement. Mr. Moore showed us the house, chapel, hall, lodging-rooms, the apartments of the widows, the single men, and single women. He showed us likewise the workshops of various kinds, with the shops for grocery, drapery, mercery, hardware, etc., with which, as well as with bread from their bakehouse, they furnish the adjacent country. I see not what but the mighty power of God can hinder them from acquiring millions; as they, 1. Buy all materials with ready money at the best hand; 2. Have above a hundred young men, above fifty young women, many widows, and above a hundred married persons; all of whom are employed from morning to night, without any intermission, in various kinds of manufactures, not for journeymen’s wages, but for no wages at all, save a little very plain food and raiment; as they have, 3. A quick sale for all their goods, and sell them all for ready money. But can they lay up treasure on earth, and, at the same time, lay up treasure in heaven?”

“London, August 11, 1748.

“My very dear Mr. Ingham,—Your kind letter, which I received but yesterday, having been taken a little tour in the country, both grieved and pleased me. Glad was I to find, that, my dear old friend had not forgotten me; and yet sorry, at it were, that, I had not written to him first. I was just going to put pen to paper, when yours was brought to my hands. I read it with joy; and now embrace the first opportunity of answering it with the greatest pleasure. These words concerning our Lord have always been weighty on my heart: ‘Having loved His own, He loved them unto the end.’ They, therefore, that are most like Him, will be most steady in their friendship, and not very readily given to change. O my dear sir, what has the Redeemer done for us since we used to take such sweet counsel together at Oxford! Blessed be His name for giving you a heart still to preach among poor sinners the unsearchable riches of Christ! May you go on and prosper, and, maugre all opposition, see Dagon fall everywhere before the ark! As for me, I am a poor worthless pilgrim, and thought long ere now to be with Him, who has loved and given Himself for me. But it seems, I am not yet to die, but live. Oh that it may be to declare the work of the Lord! I think, this is the thirteenth province I have been in within this twelve-month, in each of which our Lord has been pleased to set His seal to my unworthy ministry. I came from Bermudas last, where I left many souls seeking after Jesus of Nazareth. In London, Bristol, Gloucester, and Wales, the glorious Emmanuel, since my arrival, has appeared to His people. In about a fortnight, I purpose leaving town again, in order to go a circuit of about five hundred miles. I need not desire you to pray for me: I need not tell you how glad I shall be, whenever opportunity offers, to see you face to face. In the meantime, let us correspond by letter. May Jesus bless it to us both! I return cordial respects to Lady Margaret. I pray the Lord to bless her and her little nursery. For the present, Adieu!

“I am, my dear Mr. Ingham, ever yours,

“George Whitefield.”

“Chipping, January 11, 1750.

“My most dear and Rev. Brother, whom I love in the truth,—I have had twice the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ingham; and must say, there is a great deal of amiable sweetness in his whole behaviour. I have often and earnestly wished that he was disentangled from the Moravians, and cordially one with you in promoting the interests of the gospel. The last time I saw him, he was employed in reconciling two of the Brethren, who had run great hazards and suffered much hardship in the service of the gospel. He allows you incomparably the preference for prudence; but says, you have not done the count” (Zinzendorf) “justice. He adds, that, he endeavoured to prevail with you not to publish the Difference;[108] and thought he had prevailed, till he heard that it was published;—and that he would gladly have been reconciled, and got Mr. W⸺d” (Whitefield) “to go from his house to N⸺e” (Newcastle), “to bring about a reconciliation; but you were not inclined to it,—‘the time being not yet come.’ At first, I looked upon the difference, as that betwixt Paul and Barnabas, which was a furtherance of the gospel of Christ; but since I knew more of the doctrine of the still Brethren, I have not had the same favourable opinion of them. Yet, I cannot help thinking, Mr. Ingham is happy. May some good Providence bring you speedily together! For, surely, such souls must glow with love at meeting, and all unkindness fly at first sight!”[109]

“P.S. The Bishop of London has acted wrongfully and most injudiciously for the interest of his own Church; inasmuch, as he has not only declined intercourse with the Brethren, but likewise communicated a private decision to a certain Deacon of our Church. He has sinned against the first principles of uprightness, equity, and prudence; and, by doing so, has done dishonour to the ecclesiastical order. It is not your part to threaten and to act insolently, but cautiously; for your interest, and not ours, is concerned.

“Lewis, Bishop, with his own hand.”

“1753, November 3rd. I read over Andrew Frey’s reasons for leaving the Brethren. Most of what he says, I knew before; yet, I cannot speak of them in the manner in which he does; I pity them too much to be bitter against them.”

“The point on which we desired all the preachers to speak their minds at large was, ‘Whether we ought to separate from the Church?’ Whatever was advanced, on one side or the other, was seriously and calmly considered; and, on the third day, we were all fully agreed in that general conclusion,—that, whether it was lawful or not, it was not expedient.”[114]

“1756, October 1st.—I had an opportunity of vindicating my old friend, Benjamin Ingham. It is hard a man should be hanged for his looks,—for the appearance of Moravianism. Their spirit and practices he has as utterly renounced as we have: their manner and phrase cannot as soon be shaken off.”

“1756, October 7th.—I rode on to Aberford. My old friend, Mr. Ingham, was labouring in the vineyard; but I had the happiness to find Lady Margaret at home, and their son Ignatius. She informed me, that, his round takes in about four hundred miles; that, he has six fellow-labourers, and one thousand souls in his Societies, most of them, converted. I sincerely rejoiced in his success. Ignatius was hardly pacified at my not preaching. We passed an hour and a half very profitably, and set out again.”

“If ever there was a Church of Christ upon earth, that was one. I paid them a visit, and had a great mind to join them. There was a blessed work of God among that people, till that horrid blast from the north came upon them and destroyed all.”

“Every doctrine which teaches us to do, or endeavour any thing toward our acceptance with God, stands opposed to the doctrine of the Apostles; which, instead of directing us what to do, sets before us all that the most disquieted conscience can require, in order to acceptance with God, as already done and finished by Jesus Christ. What Christ has done, is that which pleases God; what He hath done, is that which quiets the guilty conscience of man as soon as he knows it; so that, whenever he hears of it, he has no occasion for any other question but this, ‘Is it true or not?’ If he finds it true, he is happy; if not, he can reap no comfort by it. If, then, we slight the comfort arising from the bare persuasion of this, it must be owing, at bottom, to our slighting this bare truth, and to our slighting the bare work of Christ, and our considering it as too narrow a foundation whereon to rest the whole of our acceptance with God.” (Vol. i., p. 17.)

“Whatever doctrine teaches us to think, that our acceptance with God is begun by our own good endeavours, seconded by Divine aid, or even first prompted by the Divine influence, leads us to look for acceptance with God by our own righteousness; for whatever I do, however assisted or prompted, is still my own work. Aspasio tells us, ‘Faith is a real persuasion that Christ died for me.’ This account of faith somewhat resembles the arch of a bridge thrown over a river, having the one end settled on a rock, and the other on sand or mud. That Christ died, is indeed a truth fully ascertained in the Scriptures; that Christ died for me, is a point not so easily settled. This is a point which the Scripture nowhere ascertains; so far from it, that it often affirms the final perdition of many, not merely hearers of the gospel, but who have heard and received it with joy; yea of those who have made such progress, that their only deficiency is, that their fruit came not to perfection.” (Ibid. p. 20.)

“Men are justified by the knowledge of a righteousness finished in the days of Tiberius; and this knowledge operates upon them, and leads them to work righteousness.” (Vol. ii., p. 190.)

“The change made upon a man by the gospel, is called repentance unto life,—a change of a man’s mind to love the truth, which always carries in it a sense of shame and regret at his former opposition to it.” (Ibid. p. 193.)

“No man can be assured, that his sins are forgiven him, but in as far as he is freed from the service of sin, and led to work righteousness; for the favour of God can only be enjoyed in studying to do those things which are well pleasing in His sight.” (Ibid. p. 194.)

“When once the saving truth is admitted in the conscience of any man, it becomes, as it were, a new instinct in him, encouraging him to draw near to God, providing him with an answer to the condemning voice of the law, which haunted his conscience before, and opposing the natural pride of his heart, in the exercise of which he formerly lived. By this instinct, he is led to desire ‘the sincere milk of the word, that he may grow thereby.’ And he arrives at the proper consciousness and enjoyment of life, when he comes to full age, and, by reason of use, has his senses exercised to discern both good and evil.” (Ibid. p. 200.)

“If, notwithstanding our natural bias against the gospel, our heart condemn us not, as destitute of love to that truth which the world hates, then have we confidence toward God, even as much confidence as the testimony of our own conscience can give us. Yet this is but one witness, and needs to be supported. Here then the Spirit of the truth gives His testimony, as a second witness supporting the former. And this He does, by shedding abroad in the heart, such an abundant sense of the divine love as casts out the anxious fear of coming short of life everlasting. Thus, that love to the truth, which formerly wrought in the way of painful desire, attended with many fears, is perfected, by being crowned with the highest enjoyment it is capable of in this mortal state.” (Ibid. p. 203.)

“Perhaps it may be thought needful, that I should define what I mean by the popular doctrine; especially as I have considered many as preachers thereof, who differ remarkably from each other; and particularly as I have ranked amongst them Mr. Wesley, who may justly be reckoned one of the most virulent reproachers of God that this island has produced. I consider all those as teachers of the popular doctrine, who seek to have credit and influence among the people, by resting our acceptance with God, not simply on what Christ hath done, but more or less on the use we make of Him, and the advance we make toward Him, or some secret desire, wish, or sigh to do so; or on something we feel or do concerning Him, by the assistance of some kind of grace or spirit; or, lastly, on something we employ Him to do, or suppose He is yet to do for us. In sum, all who would have us to be conscious of something else than the bare truth of the gospel; all who would have us to be conscious of some beginning of a change to the better; or some desire, however faint, toward such change, in order to our acceptance with God.” (Ibid. p. 300.)

“Dear Brethren,—Being mindful of the words of the Apostle Paul, we have determined to recommend to our Societies to have voluntary collections on the first day of the week, to defray all expenses relative to the preachers, meetings, etc., etc. Farewell!”

“Nearly twenty years ago, immediately after solemn consultation on the subject, a clergyman, who had heard the whole, said, with great earnestness, ‘In the name of God, let nothing move you to recede from this resolution. God is with you for a truth; and so He will be, while you continue in the Church; but whenever the Methodists leave the Church, God will leave them.’ Lord, what is man! In a few months after, Mr. Ingham himself left the Church, and turned all the societies under his care into congregations of Independents. And what was the event? The same that he had foretold! They swiftly mouldered into nothing.”

“In singing, two things ought to be regarded. The one is to sing in outward harmony, keeping the tune; and, if we do not understand it, ’tis better to be silent and hear others, or to sing low and after others, that we may not make a discord, which is disagreeable, and causes confusion; and, in general, it is not well to sing so very high and loud. But the other and more material thing to be regarded is, seriously to mind what we are about,—to be present with our thoughts,—to meditate upon the matter; and, above all, to sing with grace in the heart to the Lord. This makes singing sweet and heavenly; and, without this, our singing can neither be edifying to ourselves nor to others.”

“Every true and real minister of Jesus Christ hath a divine commission, or is sent of God.” (Preface.)

“I believe, that the whole counsel of God to the Church is faithfully recorded in the holy Scriptures.” (Ibid.)

“I believe no servant of Christ hath now any new revelation to deliver; but, I also believe, that no man can clearly comprehend or truly understand the holy Scriptures without the illumination of the Holy Ghost. Yet, the Holy Ghost neither revealeth, teacheth, impresseth, or applieth anything to any person now, but what is either expressly written, or is agreeable to the analogy of faith delivered, in the holy Scriptures.” (Ibid.)

“It is my opinion, that, both the doctrine and also the very words of Scripture, in the languages wherein they were originally written, were inspired by the Holy Ghost. The translation of the Holy Scriptures into the modern tongues hath been a great blessing, and of very great use to the cause of Christianity. Yet, men of learning, who have studied the originals, know that some places are falsely translated, and others weakly and lamely. It would be well worth the labour of all the learned men in every nation to conspire together to publish an accurate translation.” (p. 5.)

“To believe a thing meaneth to assent to, and credit it as true. To believe in a thing meaneth to confide or trust in it, to rely or depend on it.” (p. 6.)

“The faith of the Gospel is the believing of God’s testimony concerning Christ and His righteousness, and believing in Jesus Christ and His most perfect and Divine righteousness, as the only sure ground of the hope of eternal life.” (p. 9.)

“Sinners are neither justified for their own believing, nor their own obeying, nor for both together; neither for the truth or sincerity of their believing, or any act of faith, nor anything they have done, can do, or ever will do. Neither are they justified for anything wherein they differ from others, or excel others, nor for anything done or wrought in them, or received by them; for the whole and sole cause of the justification of sinners is the active and passive obedience of Jesus Christ, called the righteousness of God, ‘which is unto all and upon all them that that believe.’” (p. 13.)

“This work of Christ,—His most perfect and divine righteousness,—His obedience in all things, and even unto death, is the whole and sole cause of the salvation of sinners. There needeth no other requisite, neither less nor more, neither little nor great. This alone is complete and all-sufficient.” (p. 35.)

“Yet, the generality of men lay the greatest stress upon something else. And even those who lay some stress upon it more or less connect something else with it, whereon they also lay some stress, more or less. So that they do not believe that God is well and fully pleased with the work of Christ, as alone sufficient for salvation without anything else at all; but that God is placable, or willing to come to terms with them, upon condition that they themselves first perform those other things which they think necessary, either in whole or in part, as preliminaries to make peace with God.” (p. 39.)

“If any should object, and say, that the Lord Jesus and the apostles connected repentance with faith and remission of sins, I allow it. Repentance and faith are duties required by the gospel, because God commandeth all men everywhere to repent and believe the gospel. It is man’s duty to do whatever God commandeth.” (p. 40.)

“Repentance to life is the change made upon the mind by the gospel, when a man is turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. His understanding being enlightened, he ceases to work for acceptance; he turns to God, believing that He is well pleased in His beloved Son. This repentance, as well as faith, is the gift of God. And they are both given at the same time.” (p. 40.)

“Some modern divines have defined faith to be a confidence that Christ loved me and gave Himself for me; but this is not the faith of the gospel, though it hath passed current for it with many for a long time. It must indeed be granted that, if a person can say that Christ hath loved him and given Himself for him, upon as good ground as the Apostle Paul said it of himself, he is a true believer. Yet it is presumed that many believe the gospel and will be saved, who neither can, in truth, nor dare say this.” (p. 42.)

“No one hath the assurance of his eternal salvation upon his first believing the gospel, or can have it, till his faith hath wrought some time, more or less, by love. No man can be assured that he shall be eternally saved without any possibility of falling away, but by the sealing, witness, or testimony of the Holy Ghost. But that no one is sealed by the Spirit upon his first believing the gospel is proved by Ephesians i. 13.” (p. 43.)

“Those, who have the faith of the gospel, have not obtained it by their own labour, or by any acts exerted by their own minds; but it hath been, freely given to them from above, by Him who of His own will begetteth His people with the word of truth. So that it is as easy to believe in the gospel, when Christ is revealed to any person, as it is to see or hear, when a man hath eyes and ears.” (p. 60.)

“The faith of the gospel is a working faith. Justification and sanctification are inseparably connected together.” (p. 90.)

“All true believers are sanctified, but they are not equally sanctified; for there are children, young men, and fathers in Christ. They are sanctified in all the faculties of their souls, but not completely sanctified as yet in any one of them.” (p. 138.)

“Some argue, that God, in the word of the gospel, maketh an offer of Christ and His righteousness, as a free gift, to all indefinitely who hear the gospel; and also promiseth remission of sins and eternal life; and, further, that God’s word is a sufficient warrant to every one to lay claim to the gift, and that Faith is a receiving of the gift; but then it must be an appropriating and applying faith. For no man is possessed of a gift till he receives it; but, in receiving it, he obtains a special interest in it, which he had not before. That God, by the word of the gospel, maketh known to all indefinitely who hear it, that He is well pleased in His beloved Son, and that He giveth His Son and remission of sins and eternal life to all who unfeignedly believe the gospel with understanding, is as surely true as God’s word is true. And, that no man is possessed of a gift till he receives it, and that in receiving it he obtains a special interest in it, is also true. It is also granted that no man hath Christ, or a special interest in Him, but he that receiveth Him. But, then, doth any man receive Christ before he believeth the gospel? Coming to Christ, receiving or embracing Him, looking to Him, trusting or confiding in, relying or depending upon Him and His divine righteousness, belong to faith, and always accompany it; although they may be deemed immediate consequent effects of it” (p. 142.)

“I cannot approve the doctrine, which some teach, that a man may become perfect at once, or assured of his salvation, by putting forth some sort of an act of faith.” (p. 155.) “God generally worketh gradually both in nature and in grace.” (p. 156.)

“Believers, by keeping the Father’s commandment to believe on the name of Jesus Christ; and by obeying the new commandment, not in word, but in works,—attain the testimony of their own heart and conscience, that they are of the truth. Herein, also, they have the sure testimony of the word of God, whereby they are to try and judge themselves. And the Holy Ghost, as the Comforter, will be given to them, by whose testimony they will know and be satisfied that they are the children of God.” (p. 171.)

“Be it observed that I have limited no time, how long it is, or how long it must be, before any man is sealed by the Holy Ghost after he believeth the gospel. This dependeth upon the good pleasure of Almighty God.” (p. 175.)

“Those writers and preachers, who maintain that the assurance of salvation cometh by a direct act of faith, or by the appropriating act of faith, or by any other sort of an act of faith, are mistaken; for it cometh by no act of faith, but by the testimony of a believer’s own conscience, and by the testimony of the word and Spirit of God.” (p. 179.)

“Some writers and preachers lay down so many steps and stages of conviction, and speak of so many different sorts of faith that they greatly perplex the minds of serious people. But this is not the worst of it. Such doctrine hath a tendency to teach people to establish their own righteousness, and to turn away their minds from the atonement made by the blood of Christ; for, when they hear such doctrine, they are very apt to examine whether they have gone through such exercises of soul, and whether they have put forth such acts of faith; and, if they think that they have not, they are perplexed and distressed to no purpose; but, if they think that they have, they are ready to build upon such things, which may be nothing but their own workings and fancies, and so get into a good conceit of themselves to their own loss and damage.” (p. 181.)

“True believers are too apt to live by other things than by Christ alone. It is the duty of every believer to keep the faith, and constantly to live by believing in Christ. This is a lesson not soon or easily learned. To keep the faith, in opposition to the natural propensity which is in us all, to live by our own righteousness, or something of our own, is the principal part of the Christian warfare. It is like the pendulum in a clock, which moves all the wheels. If the pendulum stops, then the whole clock stands. All our strength to obey flows from believing in Christ.” (p. 185.)

“All the heavenly frames, sweet sensations, manifestations of God’s love, all the joys and comforts, are all and each of them valuable blessings, for which God’s people should be thankful; but they should not live by them, but by Christ. All the works and duties of believers, which are done in faith and love, which is in Christ Jesus, are pleasing to God; all the doctrines revealed in the book of God ought to be regarded and believed; the promises, threatenings, and precepts of the word of God should be used as the Lord Jesus used them when He was on earth; all the ordinances and means of grace should be conscientiously observed; but believers are not to make a Christ of any of these things, nor to live by them, but by Christ Himself.” (p. 188.)

“Notwithstanding these blemishes, Mr. Ingham’s treatise contains innumerable excellencies, fully entitling it to the patronage which has carried it through four editions. Though Faith and Hope form its distinguishing characteristics, the practical part of religion is not forgotten. This the author enforces by a variety of motives, and warns his readers against the rock of Antinomianism on which thousands have struck to rise no more. The language is simple and unadorned; it discovers spirit without acrimony, and never degenerates into reproaches when he reprehends the sentiments of others. On all occasions, he seems far more intent upon what he says, than upon the manner in which it is said, invariably paying a greater regard to truth, than to any fame which might be purchased, by disregarding this jewel, while hunting after the flowers of diction.”

“I went to Tadcaster. Here Mr. Ingham had once a far larger society than ours; but it has now shrunk into nothing; ours, meantime, is continually increasing.”

“From the moment he was seized with the fever, he felt the sentence of death in himself. When I first saw him, he said, ‘My last enemy is come! the signs of death are upon me, but I am not afraid. No! No! Blessed be God, my hope is sure, and I am in His hands.’ When I was pouring out my soul in prayer to the Lord, I mentioned the further prolongation of his life, that he might have more opportunities of being useful; and when I had concluded, he said, ‘My dear brother Ingham, if the Lord should raise me up, I think I could do more for His glory than I have hitherto done. Alas! what have my wretched services been? and I have now need to cry, at the close of my unprofitable course—God be merciful to me a sinner!’ At my next visit, I found him much worse, and evidently sinking. I mentioned having received a letter from your ladyship, and delivered your message. He seemed much affected, but, after a few moments, revived a little. When I had prayed with him, he said, ‘I harbour no desire of life,—my time is come,—and I am entirely resigned to God.’ Then, lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, he added, ‘Thy will be done!’ At another time, he said, laying his hand upon his breast, ‘I am quite exhausted, but I shall soon be at home for ever with the Lord—a poor miserable sinner redeemed by His blood.’ Mr. Venn having arrived, I shortly after took my leave, but never after saw my dear brother Grimshaw alive.”

“She continued to exercise those Christian graces for which she had been long distinguished. Of herself and her efforts, her view was ever humble, and every reference to her usefulness she met with grateful acknowledgment of the sovereignty of that grace, that made her the instrument of good to others. Her end, though painful, was triumphant. She welcomed the hour—she longed to receive the prize of her high calling. ‘Thanks be to God! thanks be to God!’ she exclaimed, ‘The moment’s come! the day is dawning!’ and thus, in holy ecstasy, she winged her way to glory.” “When she had no longer strength to speak to me,” (wrote Ingham), “she looked most sweetly at me and smiled. On the Tuesday before she died, when she had opened her heart to me, and declared the ground of her hope, her eyes sparkled with divine joy, her countenance shone, her cheeks were ruddy: I never saw her look so sweet and lively in my life. All about her were affected; no one could refrain from tears, and yet it was a delight to be with her.”

“In person, Ingham is said to have been extremely handsome—‘too handsome for a man’—and the habitual expression of his countenance was most prepossessing. He was a gentleman; temperate, and irreproachable in his morals; as a public speaker, animated and agreeable rather than eloquent; studious of the good conversation of his people, and delicately fearful of reproach to the cause of Christ.”[119]

“Mr. Wesley, late of Lincoln College, has been the instrument of so much good to me, that, I shall never forget him. Could I remember him as I ought, it would have very near the same effect as if he was still present; for a conversation so unreserved as was his, so zealous in engaging his friends to every instance of Christian piety, has left nothing now to be said, nothing but what occurs to us as often as we are disposed to remember him impartially.

“About the middle of March, 1730, I became acquainted with Mr. Charles Wesley, of Christ Church. I was just then come up from the country, and had made a resolution to find out some pious persons of religion to keep company with, or else to instil something of it into those I knew already. I had been, for two years before, in deep melancholy: so God was pleased to order it, to disappoint and break a proud spirit, and to embitter the world to me; as I was inclining to relish its vanities. During this time, I had no friend to whom I could open my mind, to any purpose. No man did care for my soul; or none, at least, understood its paths. They, that were at ease, could not guess what my sorrow was for. The learned endeavoured to give me right notions, and the friendly to divert me. But I had a weight upon my heart, which only prayer could in some degree remove. I prepared myself to make trial of the value and comfort of society, being a little recovered. One day, an old acquaintance entertained me with some reflections on the whimsical Mr. Wesley, his preciseness and pious extravagancies. Though I had lived with him four years in the same college, yet, so unable was I to take notice of anything that passed, that I knew nothing of his character; but, upon hearing this, I suspected he might be a good Christian. I therefore went to his room, and, without any ceremony, desired the benefit of his conversation. I had so large a share of it henceforth, that hardly a day passed, while I was at college, but we were together once, if not oftener.

“After some time, he introduced me to his brother John, of Lincoln College. ‘For,’ said he, ‘he is somewhat older than I, and can resolve your doubts better.’ This, as I found afterwards, was a thing which he was deeply sensible of; for I never observed any person have a more real deference for another, than he constantly had for his brother. Indeed, he followed his brother entirely. Could I describe one of them, I should describe both. And therefore I shall say no more of Charles, but that he was a man made for friendship; who, by his cheerfulness and vivacity, would refresh his friend’s heart; with attentive consideration, would enter into and settle all his concerns; so far as he was able, would do anything for him, great or small; and, by a habit of openness and freedom, leave no room for misunderstanding.

“The Wesleys were already talked of for some religious practices, which were first occasioned by Mr. Morgan, of Christ Church. From these combined friends, began a little society; for several others, from time to time, fell in; most of them only to be improved by their serious and useful discourse; and some few espousing all their resolutions and their whole way of life.

“Mr. John Wesley was always the chief manager, for which he was very fit; for he not only had more learning and experience than the rest, but he was blest with such activity as to be always gaining ground, and such steadiness that he lost none. What proposals he made to any was sure to charm them, because he was so much in earnest; nor could they afterwards slight them, because they saw him always the same. What supported this uniform vigour, was the care he took to consider well of every affair before he engaged in it, making all his decisions in the fear of God, without passion, humour, or self-confidence: for, though he had naturally a very clear apprehension, yet, his exact prudence depended more on humanity and singleness of heart. To this I may add, that he had, I think, something of authority in his countenance; though, as he did not want address, he could soften his manner, and point it as occasion required. Yet, he never assumed anything to himself above his companions. Any of them might speak their mind, and their words were as strictly regarded by him as his were by them.

“It was their custom to meet most evenings, either at his chamber or one of the others, where, after some prayers, (the chief subject of which was charity,) they ate their supper together, and he read some book. But the chief business was to review what each had done that day, in pursuance of their common design, and to consult what steps were to be taken the next.

“Their undertaking included these several particulars:—to converse with young students; to visit the prisons; to instruct some poor families; and to take care of a school, and a parish workhouse.

“They took great pains with the younger members of the University, to rescue them from bad company, and encourage them in a sober, studious life. If they had some interest with any such, they would get them to breakfast; and, over a dish of tea, endeavour to fasten some good hint upon them. They would bring them acquainted with other well disposed young men. They would help them in those parts of learning which they stuck at. They would close with their best sentiments, drive on their convictions, give them rules of piety, when they would receive them, and watch over them with great tenderness.

“Some or other of them went to the Castle every day; and another most commonly to Bocardo. Whoever came to the Castle was to read in the chapel to as many prisoners as would attend, and to talk to the man or men whom he had taken particularly in charge. Before reading, he asked: Whether they had prayers yesterday? (For some serious men among the prisoners read family prayers with the rest.) Whether they had read over again what was read last, and what they remembered of it? Then he went over the heads of it to them; and afterwards went on in the same book for a quarter of an hour. The books they used were the ‘Christian Monitor,’ the ‘Country Parson’s Advice to his Parishioners,’ and such-like. When he had done, he summed up the several particulars that had been insisted on, enforced the advice given, and reduced it at last to two or three sentences, which they might easily remember. Then he took his man aside, and asked him, Whether he was in the chapel yesterday? and other questions concerning his care to serve God, and learn his duty.

“When a new prisoner came, their conversation with him, for four or five times, was particularly close and searching. Whether he bore no malice towards those that did prosecute him, or any others? The first time, after professions of good-will, they only inquired of his circumstances in the world. Such questions imported friendship, and engaged the man to open his heart. Afterwards, they entered upon such enquiries as most concern a prisoner. Whether he submitted to this disposal of Providence? Whether he repented of his past life? Last of all, they asked him, Whether he constantly used private prayer, and whether he had ever communicated? Thus, most or all of the prisoners were spoken to in their turns. But, if any one was either under sentence of death, or appeared to have some intentions of a new life, they came every day to his assistance; and partook in the conflict and suspense of those who should now be found able, or not able, to lay hold on salvation. In order to release those who were confined for small debts, and were bettered by their affliction, and likewise to purchase books, physic, and other necessaries,—they raised a small fund, to which many of their acquaintance contributed quarterly. They had prayers at the Castle most Wednesdays and Fridays, a sermon on Sundays, and the Sacrament once a month.

“When they undertook any poor family, they saw them, at least, once a week; sometimes gave them money; admonished them of their vices; read to them, and examined their children.

“The school was, I think, of Mr. Wesley’s own setting up. At all events, he paid the mistress, and clothed some, if not all, of the children. When they went thither, they enquired how each child behaved; saw their work (for some could knit and spin); heard them read; heard them their prayers and catechism; and explained part of it.

“In the same manner, they taught the children in the workhouse; and read to the old people as they did to the prisoners.

“Though some practices of Mr. Wesley and his friends were much blamed,—as their fasting on Wednesday and Friday, after the custom of the Primitive Church,—their coming on those Sundays, when there was no sacrament in their own colleges, to receive it at Christ Church,—yet nothing was so much disliked as these charitable employments. They seldom took any notice of the accusations brought against them; but, if they made any reply, it was commonly such a plain and simple one, as if there was nothing more in the case, but that they had heard such doctrines of their Saviour, and believed and done accordingly,—‘Shall we be the more happy in another life, the more virtuous we are in this? Are we the more virtuous, the more intensely we love God and man? Is love, as all habits, the more intense, the more we exercise it? Is either helping, or trying to help man, for God’s sake, an exercise of love to God or man? Particularly, Is the feeding the hungry, the giving drink to the thirsty, the clothing the naked, the visiting sick persons, or prisoners, an exercise of love to God or man? Is the endeavouring to teach the ignorant, to admonish sinners, to encourage the good, to comfort the afflicted, to confirm the wavering, and to reconcile enemies, an exercise of love to God or man? Shall we be the more happy in another life, if we do the former of these things, and try to do the latter? Or if we do not the one, nor try to do the other?”

“What I would chiefly remark upon, is the manner in which Mr. Wesley directed his friends.

“Because he required such a regulation of our studies, as might devote them all to God, he has been cried out upon as one that discouraged learning. Far from that;—the first thing he struck at in young men, was that indolence which would not submit to close thinking. Nor was he against reading much, especially at first; because then the mind ought to fill itself with materials, and try every thing that looks bright and perfect.

“He earnestly recommended to them a method and order in all their actions. After their morning devotions (which were at a fixed and early hour, from five to six being the time, morning as well as evening), he advised them to determine with themselves what they were to do all the parts of the day. By such foresight, they would, at every hour’s end, not be in doubt how to dispose of themselves; and, by bringing themselves under the necessity of such a plan, they might correct the impotence of a mind that had been used to live by humour and chance, and prepare it by degrees to bear the other restraints of a holy life.

“The next thing was to put them upon keeping the fasts, visiting poor people, and coming to the weekly Sacrament: not only to subdue the body, increase charity, and obtain Divine grace; but (as he expressed it) to cut off their retreat to the world. He judged, that, if they did these things, men would cast out their name as evil, and, by the impossibility of keeping fair any longer with the world, oblige them to take their whole refuge in Christianity. But those, whose resolutions he thought would not bear this test, he left to gather strength by their secret exercises.

“It was his earnest care to introduce them to the treasures of wisdom and hope in the Holy Scriptures: to teach them not only to endure that book, but to form themselves by it, and to fly to it as the great antidote against the darkness of this world. For some years past, he and his friends read the New Testament together at evening. After every portion of it, having heard the conjectures the rest had to offer, he made his observations on the phrase, design, and difficult places. One or two wrote these down from his mouth.

“He laid much stress upon self-examination. He taught them (besides what occurs in his Collection of Prayers) to take account of their actions in a very exact manner, by writing a constant diary. In this, they noted down in cipher, once if not oftener in the day, what chiefly their employments had been in the several parts of it, and how they had performed each. Mr. Wesley had these records of his life by him for many years past. And some I have known, who, to seal their convictions and make their repentance more solemn, would write down such reflections upon themselves as the anguish of their soul at that time suggested, adding any spiritual maxim which some experience of their own had confirmed to them.

“Then, to keep in their minds an awful sense of God’s presence, with a constant dependence on His help, he advised them to ejaculatory prayers. They had a book of Ejaculations relating to the chief virtues, and, lying by them as they stood at their studies, they at intervals snatched a short petition out of it. But at last, instead of that variety, they contented themselves with the following aspirations (containing acts of faith, hope, love, and self-resignation at the end of every hour)—‘Consider and hear me,’ etc.

“The last means he recommended was meditation. Their usual time for this was the hour next before dinner.

“After this, he committed them to God. What remained for him to do, was to encourage them in the discomforts and temptations they might feel, and to guard them against all spiritual delusions. In this spiritual care of his acquaintance, Mr. Wesley persisted amidst all discouragements. He overlooked not only one’s absurd or disagreeable qualities, but even his coldness and neglect of him, if he thought it might be conquered. He helped one in things out of religion, that he might be more welcome to help him in that. His knowledge of the world, and his insight into physic, were often of use to us.

“If any one could have provoked him, I should; for I was slow in coming into his measures, and very remiss in doing my part. I frequently contradicted his assertions; or, which is much the same, distinguished upon them. I hardly ever submitted to his advice at the time he gave it, though I relented afterwards. One time he was in fear, that, I had taken up notions that were not safe, and pursued my spiritual improvement in an erroneous, because inactive, way. So he came over and stayed with me near a week. He accosted me with the utmost softness, condoled with me the incumbrances of my constitution, heard all I had to say, endeavoured to pick out my meaning, and yielded to me as far as he could. I never saw more humility in him than at this time. It was enough to cool the warmest imaginations that swell an overweening heart. It was, indeed, his custom to humble himself most before the proud,—not to reproach them; but, in a way of secret intercession, to procure their pardon.

“He had not only friends in Oxford to assist, but a great many correspondents. He set apart one day at least in the week (and he was no slow composer) for writing letters; in which, without levity or affectation, but with plainness and fervour, he gave his advice in particular cases, and vindicated the strict original sense of the Gospel precepts.”[122]

“I found not one of those who had formerly joined with me; and only three gentlemen who trod in their steps, building up one another in the faith.”

“We went to Stanton-Harcourt, to Mr. Gambold, and found my old friend recovered from his mystic delusion, and convinced that St. Paul was a better writer than either Tauler or Jacob Behmen.”

“After many struggles and conflicting thoughts, arising from repeated attempts to combine philosophy with the simplicity of the gospel; he, at length, by the grace of God, yielded to the power of the latter. He saw and lamented his natural depravity and consequent alienation from God, and also the insufficiency of his best works to merit heaven. He rejoiced in the sufficiency of the atonement of Jesus to sanctify and justify every true believer in Him. His former melancholy was dissipated; his spirit was made joyful in God his Saviour; and he became, in the fullest sense of the term, a new man.”[124]

“January 27, 1737-8.

“Dear Sir,—The point you mention has long been a difficulty to me; of which I could find no end, but that general solution of all doubt, and cure of all anxieties, resignation to eternal Providence. Can I offer a more particular solution now? No; but I will let you see, that I, and doubtless many more, labour under the same perplexity; which will incline one to believe, that, as God has a fire of grace to cleanse us from our common pollutions, so he has also a light in reserve, (and the needs of so many strongly call for it,) that would give a comfortable turn to our common speculations.

“O, what is regeneration? And what doth baptism? How shall we reconcile faith and fact? Is Christianity become effete, and sunk again into the bosom of nature? Was the short triumph of it over flesh and blood designed as the standing enjoyment, or standing humiliation of succeeding ages? Was the Church to condemn the world as God does, in order to meet and embrace it at last?

“What advantage would a deist make of the present appearance of things? He would say, that, when the gospel, by setting up some particular institutions, made a separation from natural religion, it was only an economical enmity;—the new dispensation did operate upon the old, as plaisters do upon the body, which, when they have spent their strength in expelling its diseases, drop off, and leave it sound, clean, and beautiful. That, the distance it stood in from it, was only a means to correct the prejudices, and manage the affections of mankind; and, as these ends were served, Christianity and natural religion were to come closer. That, the former was to lose its name in the latter, when its whole light was kindled up,—when the grace of a Redeemer, the inward touches of divine power, and the obligations of penance and self-denial, which were received for a while as extraneous appendages to natural religion, were found to be involved in the very bowels of it. That, the restitution of all things is the time when they shall fully be reconciled; when nature and grace shall be at their height, and the perfection of both be the same thing. That, this conclusion seems to be nigh us in the present age, when evangelical and moral virtue, which formerly stood in points so remote from each other, are so near falling into coincident lines, that, men have much ado to make any distinction that will hold in fact.

“But to come to the point. That regeneration is the beginning of a life which is not fully enjoyed but in another world, we all know. But how much of it may be enjoyed at present? What degree of it does the experience of mankind encourage us to expect? And by what symptoms shall we know it?

“Let us consult our observation as to the gradual progress of a religious life. At first, men are solicited with strong convictions of conscience: the pain of these and the sensible pleasure they feel as rewarding their acts of duty, are their bias to religion; while an overwhelming admiration of divine things, and a view to the issues of eternity, check their natural boldness and levity; at once abase and enlarge the understanding; and, from the anguish of hope and fear, produce zeal. Then, having reformed all crying disorders, and being prompt and expert in exercises of devotion, there is less matter for vehement remorse or fear; and the peace and congratulation of conscience hereupon being comfort sufficient, the more transporting flashes of joy are withdrawn; and thus, the man, having no religious passions, and being in war with corrupt passions, acquaints himself with the measures, motives, and fitness of virtues, and acts them in the strength of rational consideration.

“Here he labours long, and seems perhaps to have overcome all his vicious inclinations; (unless some one may show itself, more to his secret confusion and pain, than guilt,) being always in a posture of religious care, severity of thought, and habitual regularity of life. But then he complains of a general lukewarmness,—his intercourse with God is not enlivened with any particular successes, tender affections, or noble discoveries. For this he is much afflicted; yet, in the multitude of his thoughts within him, there is a good hope towards God at the bottom, which becomes more explicit by listening to the gospel. The redemption through Christ drops like balm into his soul, and he scruples not now to confess that his religious actions were but formal and worthless; yet, through gratitude to his Saviour and joy in Him, he is more ready than ever to continue the practice of them.

“Yet, he frequently falls into faintings and desolations. He is chiefly troubled at the opposition which self-love and pride make to the spirit of Christ within him. These make him unfaithful in the happy moments of grace, and infest him continually in his weaker intervals. Yea, he can trace them through every action of his life, and begin to see the depth and extent of his depravity. Hereupon, he keeps himself in constant recollection, to watch and resist it. He rejoices that, upon applying to God, a temptation vanishes; yet, very often it dwells so obstinately upon his mind, that his thoughts are shut up within the circle of their own folly and baseness, and he can only send groanings that cannot be uttered after the divine gift he once enjoyed. That gift, however, returns, and sometimes so long together, that he is able to form some idea of a spiritual life,—of the purity and long-suffering, the humility and charity, the magnanimity and singleness of heart, that are suitable for one in whom the Holy Spirit dwells. His desire insensibly sets him on work to procure those dispositions, which follow upon his wish; for the soul no sooner conceives the temper it would be in, but the body (being taught that obsequiousness by the strong recollection lately used, which suspends, clarifies, and determines the animal spirit) immediately furnishes the sensation, air, and whole energy of that temper.

“These smooth and ready emotions of virtue, which seem to give a man a more real and genuine possession of it than ever, do also encourage the mind to launch out in sublime theories; wherein it is much assisted by the repose and security it enjoys towards God, and by the delicate philosophic joy overflowing all the faculties, which raises the imagination to greater magnificence and sagacity. Here the grand system of Providence and all its various dispensations; the correspondencies of heaven and earth, of time and eternity; the gaiety and mournings of nature, and the greatness and abjectness of man; the saving mystery of human life, and the saving mystery of Christianity inserted into it;—all these are inquired into, not out of vain curiosity, but at the instigation of love, to salute the divine goodness in all its works. This is the meridian of the religious man. His notions and his virtues are at the height, in their full clearness and fervour. The love of holiness shines through him, and unites under it all the movements of nature. It commands and pierces all that converse with him. All, after this, is, to the eye of man, a decline and a fall; but a decline by a regular appointed path, and a fall into the arms of secret and infinite mercy. I need not explain to you what I mean; so I will shut up the description.

“Now, where in all these stages shall we place our regeneration? And what shall we say it is? There is reason to think, that, we have no more real goodness (except experience) in one of these states than another,—in the last than the first; we only fill our minds with new sets of ideas, and, by a temporary force, drive our constitution into something that seems answerable to them. Let this force cease, and we are the same as before; when we are in the most plausible posture of virtue, let us but sleep upon it, or otherwise remit the contention of the mind, and ’tis no more; affectation gives place to nature.

“But, you will say, the operation of grace is a real thing. It is so; but, for all the indications we commonly go by to prove the peculiar presence of it, it may be nowhere or everywhere to be found. Most people measure it by the relish they have for some particular schemes and draughts of religion. Little do they think, that, the persons whom they most condemn as unspiritual and deluded, abating for what is merely accidental, are in the same state of heart as themselves. It may be the same complexional turn of the soul, (God also speaking peace to it, and to every man in his own language,) that makes the mystic happy in his prayer and quietness, the solifidian in his imputed righteousness, and the moral man in a good conscience. Nay, perhaps, what many a man calls divine love and joy in the Holy Ghost, has nothing in it, beyond the alacrity of youth or good blood in other people, but a set of phrases and notions from the last book he read; which has given a determination to that natural vigour and sweetness of temper, that were indifferent to any other issue or exercise.

“I do not doubt but there is goodness in mankind, and a goodness of God’s inspiring too; but, I believe it more evenly distributed among them, and less annexed to particular ways of thinking and behaviour. Nay, that it is not so annexed even to Christianity, (though it does essentially depend on Christ, the universal Redeemer,) but, that, as it was in being before this particular institution, so it might be obtained if the initiating rite should happen to be wanting. Yet, this rite must always be used, for the same reason as it was at first appointed, to be memorial to mankind of what is continually done for them in their hearts. Therefore, it was attended with such extraordinary effects at first, that, by these manifestations of the divine life, the reality of it might be firmly believed and depended on in succeeding times, as well as sacramentally acknowledged. The same would still continue, if we had more faith in, and zeal for, the Christian institution; for, according as men believe and expect, God does unto them. But, at present, He seems to have let the Church drop into the world, and does not so much distinguish some from the rest, in righteousness and salvation.

“Whether this be a right state of things, I cannot tell; but it seems unavoidable when every one that is born, is, of course, a member of the Church. If the safety and tolerable piety of whole nations is thereby better provided for, the exemplariness and instruction of an elect city set upon a hill cease. It seems to be the order of Providence now, that none should have much holiness, that all may have a little.

“Dear sir, I have given no particular answer to your questions; but I have said something hastily, perhaps very wrong; but I know to whom Miss Wesley[125] gives her love, and would have written, but she is somewhat indisposed.

“Your affectionate brother and servant,

“J. Gambold.”

“January 23rd, 1738-9.

“Dear Sir,—I understand that you have written to me, but the letter happened to be lost, and I did not receive it. Your brother desired me to reed his sermon for him; which, God willing, I shall do next Sunday.

“I have seen upon this occasion, more than ever I could have imagined, how intolerable the doctrine of faith is to the mind of man; how peculiarly intolerable, even to most religious men. One may say the most unchristian things, even down to deism; the most enthusiastic things, so they proceed but upon mental raptures, lights, and unions; the most severe things, even the whole rigour of ascetic mortification; and all this will be forgiven. But if you speak of faith, in such a manner as makes Christ a Saviour to the utmost,—a most universal help and refuge,—in such a manner as takes away glorying, but adds happiness to wretched man; as discovers greater pollution in the best of us than we could before acknowledge, but brings a greater deliverance from it, than we could before expect. If any one offers to talk at this rate, he shall be heard with the same abhorrence as if he were going to rob mankind of their salvation, their Mediator, and their hopes of forgiveness.

“I am persuaded that a Montanist, or a Novatian, who, from the height of his purity, should look down with contempt upon poor sinners, and exclude them from all mercy, would not be thought such an overthrower of the Gospel, as he who should learn, from the Author of it, to be a friend of publicans and sinners, and to sit down upon a level with them as soon as they begin to repent. But this is not to be wondered at. For all religious people have such a quantity of righteousness acquired by such painful exercise, and formed at last into current habits, which is their wealth both for this world and the next! Now all other schemes of religion are either so complaisant, as to tell them they are very rich, and have enough to triumph in; or else, only a little rough, but friendly in the main, by telling them their riches are not yet sufficient, but by such arts of self-denial and mental refinement, they may enlarge the stock. But the doctrine of faith is a downright robber. It takes away all this wealth, and only tells us it is deposited for us with some one else, upon whose bounty we must live like mere beggars. Indeed, they who are truly beggars, vile and filthy sinners till very lately, may stoop to live in this dependent condition; it suits them well enough; but those who have long distinguished themselves from the herd of vicious wretches, or have even gone beyond moral men,—for them to be told, that they are either not so well, or but the same needy, impotent, insignificant vessels of mercy with the others,—this is more shocking to reason than transubstantiation; for reason had rather resign its pretentions to judge what is bread or flesh, than have this honour wrested from it, to be the architect of virtue and righteousness.

“But whither am I running? My design was only to give you warning, that, wherever you go, this foolishness of preaching will alienate hearts from you, and open mouths against you. What are you then to do, my dear friend? I will not exhort you to courage; we need not talk of that, for nothing that is approaching is evil. I will only mention the prejudice we shall be under if we seem in the least to lay aside universal charity and modesty of expression. Though we love some persons more than we did, let us love none less; and the rather, because we cannot say any one is bad, or destitute of divine grace, for not thinking as we do. He only less apprehends, less enjoys that in Christianity, which is the refuge of the weak and miserable, and will be his when he finds himself so. Indignation at mankind is a temper unsuitable to this cause. If we are indeed at peace with God in Christ, let it soften our demeanour still more, even towards gainsayers. Let them reject us: till then, and (as far as it will be admitted,) afterwards, let our friendship with them continue inviolate.

“Then as to expressions. What has given most offence hitherto, is what, perhaps, may be best spared,—as some people’s confident and hasty triumphs in the grace of God; not by way of humble thankfulness to Him for looking upon them, or acknowledgment of some peace and strength unknown before; but insisting on the completeness of their justification, the completeness of their deliverance already from all sin, and taking to them every apostolical boast in the strongest terms. I do not deny but power over sin, and every Gospel privilege, are bestowed, perhaps, in as large a degree, in the beginning of grace, as at any time afterwards; for it depends upon the actual operation of the Spirit that moment upon the heart, not on a mere federal or habitual union with Him; and his operation is particularly strong at the first entrance upon a new life. Yet, as such converts must remember, that, as this absolute degree of innocence, excluding for the most part even the first motions of sin, may soon depart from them, and be given them but sometimes; though till they fall from God, they will still be free from wilful sins; so while it continues, it is the most slippery and dangerous thing, among all the blessings they receive, for themselves to reflect much upon, and the most exceptionable that they can talk of to other men. Let us speak of everything in such a manner, as may convey glory to Christ, without letting it glance on ourselves by the way.

“John Gambold.”[126]

“These obstacles of nature’s education, I have often sighed under; and, imagining I knew where the shoe pinched in your case also, I advised the most artless, direct, and confident laying hold of the Scripture declaration, without the ceremony and circuitions of a man of learning, and a man of prudence, or a man of decorum, but simply as a plain man, who wants for his own soul to experience the manifestation of redeeming grace. The words of our Saviour and His apostles, which I said we are to take quite simply, are such as these,—‘Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ ‘Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.’ ‘He that believeth, shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.’ ‘If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.’ ‘My grace is sufficient for thee; for My strength is made perfect in thy weakness.’ ‘This is a faithful saying, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners,’ etc., etc.”

“I will no more speak against reading, since, as you say, you ‘take pleasure in nothing else in the world.’ For, I cannot deny, but I should be glad myself to have some object of pleasure in the world; something, whether great or mean, I do not care, so it be innocent, that might be a relief to my weary mind. In the situation I am in, not yet admitted to the glorious comforts of faith, and yet sick of the burden of corrupt nature, it seems necessary sometimes to set aside the dejecting prospect, by some amusement, however low. The lower it is, the fitter for me, till faith in Christ raises me from spiritual darkness and death. Then I would hope for such solid consolation, as may well supersede the poor amusements and delights of the natural man.”

“There is no such lumber in the world, as our last year’s notions, which yet, in their day, were wonderfully fine and delightful. The fruit of the Tree of Knowledge will not keep: it is pleasant enough when you first pluck it; but, if you pretend to lay it up, it will rot. The man who has discovered, as far as human thought can go, the manner how the world was created, and how it shall be restored, the nature of the human soul, and its state after death,—when he has done, what is he the better? When the heat of thinking is over, will his heart be found in any better or nobler condition, than other men’s? Unless some bye-reasons engage him still to his old speculations (as the respect paid him upon that account by the world and by his juniors), will not he confess, that he is now never the happier for them? Will not he prefer plain common-sense before all such subtleties? Alas, alas! Under the greatest accomplishments of the head, the heart remains just the same as it was. This is very true, though it does not presently appear to us. I cannot, therefore, agree to that fine Platonical insinuation, that, ‘so much as we have of truth, so much we have of God.’

“I heartily condole with you under the troubles of this life: I am ready to sink under them myself. You suffered severely, while you lived with us, from sickness and pain, bodily hardships, etc. It grieves me to think, that ever it should be your lot to struggle with these. Yet, while you continue in this world, you must expect to bear your cross. Comfort yourself under it as well as you can, by applying arguments for patience; and if at any time you should not have strength of mind to do this, God Himself will either support and comfort you, or pity and accept you amidst your weakness.”

“Now, after all this long talk, the chief thing, that, by my calling and my conscience, I ought to have spoken of, and recommended to you, I have passed over; and that is faith in Christ. This is the thing that I ought to speak of with zeal and delight;—that ought to be the brightest in my imagination, and nearest to my heart. How little do any other speculations or reasonings conduce to this faith; and how insignificant are they, if they do not conduce to it! I know, and actually make the reflection upon myself, that, whatever I read, or write, or speak, upon any other subject but this, I am a miserable trifler. Perhaps then I do very ill, to trifle with you. It may be, you have felt the great work of faith, cleansing you from all sin in the blood of Christ;—that, being righteous before God, you have peace therefrom, which passes all understanding;—that, all things are become new with you; and you have a new judgment and taste, as well as new satisfactions and employments suggested to you by the Spirit of wisdom and consolation. You seem to hint in the beginning of your letter, that, either you are in this state, or the desire of your heart is towards it; for you say, you now acquiesce in that, which (by the description I could make of it), is the righteousness of faith. If so, then you have cause to rejoice; and your joy no man taketh from you.”

“I looked upon them as a happy people, and their doctrine as fundamentally true, but could not apply the comforts thereof to myself, being discouraged from so doing by the deep sense I had of my own guilt and depravity, and by being defeated in the hopes of being happy in the notions which I had formerly imbibed. Therefore, I despaired of being in a condition better than the generality of mankind, or different from them. But, in December, 1740, my younger brother, having been with the Brethren in London, came to see me. The account which he gave of the happy course he observed amongst them, struck me with such an agreeable surprise, that I could not but return with him thither. My design was to see the order established, and to feel the spirit which prevailed amongst them where several of them dwelt together. The purpose of my visit was answered to my great satisfaction, and I could believe, not only that they were right both in principle and practice, but that I might have a share of the same grace which they enjoyed. After having been again in their company, I perceived an impulse upon my mind to devote myself entirely to Him who died for me, and to live wholly for Him and to His service.”

“1741, January 28. Our old friends, Mr. Gambold and Mr. Hall, came to see my brother and me. The conversation turned wholly on silent prayer, and quiet waiting for God; which, they said, was the only possible way to attain living, saving faith.

“Sirenum voces, et Circes pocula nosti?

“Was there ever so pleasing a scheme? But where is it written? Not in any of those books which I account the oracles of God. I allow, if there is a better way to God than the scriptural way, this is it. But the prejudice of education so hangs upon me, that I cannot think there is. I must, therefore, still wait in the Bible-way, from which this differs as light from darkness.”

“He seemed to think it of no moment; ‘For,’ said he, ‘all here are so prejudiced, that they will mind nothing you say.’”

“I know not that. However, I am to deliver my own soul, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear.”

“1741, July 2. I met Mr. Gambold again, who honestly told me he was ashamed of my company, and, therefore, must be excused from going to the society with me. This is plain dealing at last.”

“I met my old friend, John Gambold, at my printer’s, and appointed to meet him to-morrow at Dr. Newton’s. I brought my brother with me. I found the Germans had quite estranged and stole away his heart, which nevertheless relented, while we talked over the passages of our former friendship; but he hardened himself against the weakness of gratitude. We could not prevail upon him to meet us again.”

“1763, November 5. I spent some time with my old friend, John. Gambold. Who but Count Zinzendorf could have separated such friends as we were? Shall we never unite again?

“December 16. I spent an agreeable hour, and not unprofitably, with my old friend, John Gambold. O how gladly could I join heart and hand again! But, alas! thy heart is not as my heart!”

“Having had assurance that such a favour might be granted, I left my parish with a view to live wholly with the Brethren.”

“It is not in consequence of any resentment, or of any worldly motive that I give up my parish. I have not so implicitly given up my judgment to others as to be prevailed upon, by their persuasion, to take this step. The reason for my so doing is well grounded, and to my own satisfaction. It does not, I assure you, proceed from any dislike that I have to the worship of God in the Church of England. I find no fault with any passage or clause in the Common Prayer Book. Nor can I, in justice, be considered in the same light with such persons as slight and forsake one party of Christians and go over to another without sufficient cause. But that which has determined the choice I have made, was the earnest desire I found in myself of that improvement in the knowledge of the Gospel, and in the experience of the grace of Jesus Christ, which I stood in need of. The blessings purchased by the blood of the Shepherd of our souls, I longed to enjoy in fellowship with a little flock of His sheep, who daily feed on the merits of His passion, and whose great concern is to build up one another in their most holy faith, and to propagate the truth, as it is in Jesus, for the good of others. His gracious presence, the power of His Word, and the virtue of His blood, I wanted to have a more lively sense of, for my own comfort and support in the Christian warfare; and I had reason to hope for those means of happiness, especially where brethren dwell together in unity, for there the Lord commandeth His blessing and life for evermore. This is all I aim at in withdrawing myself from you; and may this departure give no offence to any one.

“I now take my last adieu, and earnestly pray for you and for myself. For myself, that I may be faithful to the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and prove His servant, truly devoted to Him, where I am going; and may you, where you remain, be as obedient to the influence of His Spirit and the dictates of His word as I wish to be; so shall we one day rejoice before the Great Shepherd of our souls, that merciful and compassionate Saviour, in whom there is, in the meantime, life, peace, and joy for all believers. I do not go from you because I cannot live in the Church of England, as an outward profession, or because I prefer any other form of ecclesiastical government before that which is by law established in this kingdom; but the inducement which leads me to this change, is the great concern I have for the attainment of a happy state of mind; and, to compass this end, no means, through the blessing of God, appear to me so proper as a free intercourse with those who are of the same principles with my own, to whom I may communicate without reserve; and from whom I can receive that assistance of advice and comfort, which is necessary for a person encompassed with such infirmities as I am. I heartily wish you may derive more benefit from the instructions of my successor, than you have, or could have done, from mine; and I trust this will be the case.”

“Gambold baptized Brother Fell’s little boy. He spoke on baptism, and said, ‘it was a delivering a child over into the death of our Saviour.’ After prayer, he took the child into his arms, and, taking water three times, he baptized him in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; then, singing some verses, he carried the child round to the labourers who were present, who blessed him by laying on of hands.”

“In their zeal to root out self-righteousness, the Brethren were not sufficiently on their guard against levity of expression. The delight they took in speaking of the sufferings of Christ, which arose from the penetrating sense they had of their infinite value, by degrees degenerated into fanciful representations of the various scenes of His passion. Their style, in speaking and writing, lost its former plainness and simplicity, and became turgid, puerile, and fanatical, abounding in playful allusions to Christ as the Lamb, the Bridegroom, etc., by which He is described in holy writ, and in fanciful representations of the wound in His side. In describing the spiritual relation between Christ and His Church, the highly figurative language of the Canticles was substituted in the place of the dignified simplicity, used by our Saviour and His apostles, when speaking on this subject. Some less-experienced preachers even seemed to vie with each other in introducing, into their discourses, the most extravagant, and often wholly unintelligible, expressions. This kept the hearers in a state of constant excitement, but was not calculated to subject every thought of the heart to the obedience of Christ. Religion, instead of enlightening the understanding, governing the affections, and regulating the general conduct, became a play of the imagination.

“This species of fanaticism first broke out at Herrnhaag, in the year 1746, and, from thence, spread into several other congregations. Many were carried away by it, for it seemed to promise a certain joyous perfection, representing believers as innocent, playful children, who might be quite at their ease amidst all the trials and difficulties incident to the present life. The effect produced was such as might be expected. The more serious members of the church (and these after all formed the major part) bitterly lamented an evil, which they could not at once eradicate. Others, considering the malady as incurable, withdrew from its communion. The behaviour of such as were most infected with this error, though not immoral and criminal, was yet highly disgraceful to their Christian profession. Had not God in mercy averted the impending danger, a spirit of religious levity and antinomianism might, by degrees, have sapped the very foundation of the Brethren’s Church, and completed her ruin.”

“Most dear and paternal Heart.—A certain reflection has this day arisen in my mind, which, such as it is, I wish to communicate to you. I perceive that you and your faithful colleagues are earnestly labouring to bring it about, that, those, who flee from the fold of the Anglican religion, may not be completely cut off from the said religion; but still continue in ecclesiastical bond with it; and, therefore, you propose to constitute an Anglican tropus among the Brethren,—an object most dear to us, and with the greatest propriety recommended; inasmuch as it is beginning, as I imagine, to be thought desirable by the clergy of this country also. I greatly fear, however, that there are, in their hierarchy, certain deficiencies which may occasion some obstruction to the consent of the majority; moreover, other considerations may oppose the arrangement, that one prelate (the others being unconsulted, except, perhaps, synodically), should be able to concede this privilege.

“Two special means, or symbols of union, are contained, as I understand, under the word Tropus. One requisite is, that some prelate of the Anglican Church should be invested with the office of examining into such matters as the Brethren agitate, and, on the part of his Church, and with the seal of the same, assisting at their ordinations. The other requisite is, that the Liturgy, or Prayers of the Anglican Church should be admitted in our assembly. The former involves the appointment of prudent political men; the latter provides for the security of religious, pious persons sustaining any injury from us; tending, moreover, to the abatement of disaffection as respects both communities, and to their mutual benefit and salvation. I, therefore, earnestly desire the accomplishment of the design.

“What evil, in the mean time, could ensue if the whole Book of Prayers of the Anglican Church should occasionally be used in public; not at this time as prayers, but as text; and an explanation occasionally given as to the passages which, with us, may seem to require some explanation? Certain exceedingly grand portions of sacred Scripture which are intermingled with these may, in this service, be omitted as being beyond all dispute; and so, in six or eight prelections, or short discourses, the whole may be finished. The service may, with propriety, be preceded by some such introduction as the following:

“Inasmuch as we and some other nurslings of the Anglican Church, who have embraced the spiritual aid of the Moravian Brethren, yet certainly with no design, by so doing, of departing from our own proper religion; being, however, in such situation, it manifestly follows that we constitute an assembly which is extraordinary and extra-parochial, being ecclesiastically made up out of various parishes; and that we, moreover, have a sacred place of meeting, which certainly is not a parish church; consequently many will immediately conclude that we are now of a different mind, and that we have altogether forsaken the Anglican Church. Such, however, would be an erroneous opinion. That we constitute such a society or assembly as we have mentioned, arises from our desire to exercise that salutary and vigorous discipline which the Anglican Church pants for; but, by reason of its exceeding magnitude, cannot maintain; that we have a place in which we assemble, and a pulpit, arises from our delight in hearing the principal doctrine respecting the death and grace of our Redeemer more clearly and more fully enunciated there than can in these times be expected elsewhere, notwithstanding the same doctrine is maintained in the primary article of the Anglican Church. There is, therefore, no reason why we should be offended with the Church of our fatherland; and let it not so tenaciously disallow to us those superadded aids for our benefit and edification which we now enjoy, and nothing will be more agreeable to us than (provided these be preserved with a good conscience) henceforward still to preserve with it the bond of unity. For we are able to do so both openly and sincerely. In testimony of this, we are prepared to adopt in our assemblies the Liturgy or Common Prayers of the Anglican Church. But, because, as we are informed, the use of the Anglican Liturgy, beyond the ordinary churches, will either be unlawful, or, at least, exceedingly offensive; and as a kind of secret disaffection, rather than amity, might arise therefrom with those whom, from the most sincere respect, we would not injure even in the least, we must therefore defer the adoption of this Liturgy, in our proseucha or house of prayer, until full liberty of using it be granted to us by those who have the authority. In the meantime, however, in order to its being made manifest that what we have asserted is true, that union with the Church of our fatherland is possible, since no violence is thereby done to our conscience (providing there be left to us discipline and evangelization, neither one nor the other of which being opposed to the Anglican Church; nay, perhaps, more closely allied to it than some imagine),—let us proceed to examine in due order the whole liturgy of the Anglican Church. As to what others, who, diverging into sects, have departed from the Anglican fold, may have to object to this Liturgy I shall take no notice, for they and we are neither affected nor aggrieved by the same things. But, throughout this examination I shall make it my special care to omit nothing which can, in accordance with our light and principles, or indeed ever can, occasion any obstacle to any one of us. To such passages I shall assign that sense and exposition which I judge to have been, and to be, the true meaning; and, unless I am deceived, such will be found neither grievous nor unreasonable to the mind which is imbued with the dearer knowledge and love of the Saviour.’

“I have run out further than is suitable for an introduction; but, as if carefully reviewing the whole matter in question, I have been imagining what effect would result from the procedure: the same that you also desire through the means of a Tropus, only more feebly and less constant. But why, in any degree, less constant? Because it is sufficiently constant, considering the novelty of the measure. Such a declaration would sink into the memory, and would be preserved by all as a memorial of the true mind and will of the Brethren.

“Your most respectful son, and desiring to be excused, though some should prate beyond their measure,

“John Gambold”.[131]

“There are a great number of thinking persons, who, if the bear-skin could be taken off from the Brethren, would directly be well satisfied with that somewhat extraordinary, but yet reasonable, zeal for the fundamentals of Christianity, which, after all, is the Brethren’s whole mystery and peculiarity.”

“The Brethren’s Church has, at present, an illustrious nobleman both for her Advocate and Ordinary; and most of the hard imputations cast upon her by her antagonists are levelled against him, and either arise from or imply a misunderstanding of his true character. He is an extraordinary person or genius, and, as such, requires to be looked at in a particular point of view, if one will avoid error. I will, therefore, do nothing else but set down to that end some remarks which occur to me, from ten or eleven years’ acquaintance with him.”

“Count Zinzendorf has in him something unlike other people. But what is it? A very tender and deep-rooted love to our blessed Redeemer, and the highest and most honourable conceptions of His atonement. He willingly believes, as the New Testament supposes, that the bitter sufferings of the Saviour are alone able to enervate, as well as atone for sin; and the contemplation and influence of His tormented person, to effect our sanctification in all its branches. And all the hearty expressions to the honour of Jesus, that are found in ancient Hymns, or Meditations of pious Divines, (which, because mankind do not always keep up to the same strain of truth, are unjustly looked upon as flights and raptures), are with him serious principles.”

“Some have censured him for introducing, or suffering to be introduced, some new Phrases, and delivering assertions which have the look of Paradoxes; but these Phrases and Paradoxes, when examined to the bottom, are orthodox; and, if not verbatim used in former ages, are, at least, parallel to the always received theological language; and, upon some occasions, are necessary, and happily effectual, to set people a-thinking, and to recover in their minds the full idea belonging to many terms and sayings over which they, by frequent repetition, have fallen asleep, and forgot the force and import of them. In the same view, he also likes very much to translate the Scriptures in a free, round manner, and in modern words.”

“The same jealousy to keep the word of God from being robbed of its energy, has led him to oppose another abuse. Many pious people, though not sleepy and unmoved by the words they repeat, yet amidst their best emotion, have only vague and indeterminate ideas, nor can it be known precisely what they mean. Now, though a dealer in mere metaphors and allegories may be a very good soul, yet, it is not for the honour of God, that its doctrine should rest upon such a foundation; but all its assertions must rather be literally ascertainable realities, in the same manner as physical ones are, upon a nearer experience; and this is the motive of his bringing spiritual matters to a point, under a clothing and illustration somewhat philosophical, for a season, until the supposition that those matters are only something shadowy, and not substance, is exploded.”

“His original design was purely to preach and recommend his Saviour to mankind at large, wherever he could find audience. It was wholly accidental, and by him unsought, that he has been entrusted with the direction of a particular Church. However others may look upon the occurrences in the Brethren’s congregation, he is always deeply struck with reverence for our Saviour’s immediate guidance of, and benediction over the whole, which occasions his using, sometimes about things which others may account small or common, that magnificence of expression which is observable in him. The same tender attention to his Master’s mind and order, renders him sometimes, when he apprehends any deviation therefrom, more vehement in his manner, than is incident to those who have not zeal enough ever to be constrained in spirit. Upon this account, he has been thought magisterial; but very unjustly, for, abstracting from the fervour, which, in an agony of faithfulness, he may at such times discover, he is ready to be informed by any one, distrustful of himself, extremely moderate towards those against whom he may be expected to be sharp, and not at all fond of power.

“Further, from a long experience in regard to congregations, he sometimes delivers his opinion about the method of carrying on the Gospel work in a very systematical manner, implying, one might think, a great deal of policy; but, when his counsels are traced to their first idea, they are always an inculcation of one or other of the known maxims of our Saviour, with only a more direct application to special and present cases than is common.

“He is deeply persuaded of the blessed ends attained by gathering some of the children of God together into such little congregations as he has the care of; but he is also fully convinced, not only that there are many more of God’s children remaining scattered in the several Christian parties and societies; but even that the establishments, confessions, forms of worship, etc., in those societies, have a blessed effect for the salvation of such. For which reason, if the hearts on all sides did but permit things to go according to his mind, the souls who are quickened to spiritual life, even through the necessity of the Brethren, should, notwithstanding, remain generally in the communion and way they had been brought up in, without the least affront or infringement offered thereto.

“His noble way of thinking, in several other particulars, will not so much recommend him at first sight, as expose him to censure; but noble it is, however, and will be found best in the end. He is against using any compulsion with hearts, who ought to be led by the love of the Saviour, and by a new nature; and is endeavouring to bring the discipline of the congregation to such a temperature, as that it may assist a work of grace where it is, but not mimic it where it is not. In pursuance of which principle, he rather tolerates (with secret grief and employing only distant hints), several unessential faults of those about him, than correct them with detriment to the ingenuity of spirit. These faults are charged upon him; as for instance, a few ill-judged flights of spiritual joy and cheerfulness, which he discerned to be such from the beginning, but would not retrench them, because they would not subside of themselves; and the true Christian gaiety of spirit is too valuable a jewel to hazard the breaking of it, by a rough blow in the polishing. So far goes the generosity of his conceptions, that he is resolved to drop the whole fabric of the congregation, if ever the life and spirit should be found to have left it. No wonder, then, that he insists upon adapting the outward worship, from time to time, to the inward state of the members; so that the Liturgy, from honesty and not from fickleness, is capable of many progressive gradations, and even of retrogradations, rather than fall into hypocrisy.

“In short, the person I have been speaking of is a plain man, who proceeds straight forward; and, amidst all the richness of his active and extensive genius, will always be serving and inculcating one only point, namely, the meritorious sufferings of our Creator,—a point by which alone Christians are distinguished from Deists.”

“Every one has heard, in some light or other, this noble person’s name mentioned. To judge impartially of him, we are to look back at what he has preached in a course of several years, especially since the discourses, by their nature and circumstances, were such a free out-pouring of his heart.”

“The whole drift of this pamphlet is to commend their sect in general terms, without answering any one accusation brought against them.”[133]

“The Brethren’s grand topic, in their hymns, as every one may see, is the Person and Propitiation of Jesus Christ. They collect, as in the focus of a burning glass, what has descended to them from past ages, or properly from the Bible itself, upon this head; and, that it may not be evaded under the notion of dicta ardentia, they present it in a system, and apply that system to practice. They affirm our free acceptance with God as sinners, and through pure grace, and yet the necessity of, and powerful assistances for, a most real holiness of life afterwards, with such a warmth, upon each of these subjects successively, that many a reader runs away with the supposition of their over-doing on that side he happened to take notice of, for want of waiting the balance. They cherish, as an hereditary platform from their ancestors, a very high persuasion of, and very strict rules concerning, a New Testament Church. To mention but one peculiarity more, they continually betray a burning propensity to the work of propagating the Gospel of peace. If any one finds more things uttered in this spirit, than he can make application of in his sphere, let him remember that these are a people, very many of whose members have such a call. Above a hundred of them have already consumed and laid down their mortal tabernacles in ministering the Gospel to the heathen.”

“Such a Bishop would have justly been esteemed an honour to any Church, whether ancient or modern, if disinterestedness of spirit, humility of mind, devotion of heart, a benevolent disposition towards all men, and a voluntary submission to the service, not only of the Church in general, but of every member thereof, though in the most inferior situation, be the proper qualifications and distinguished ornaments of the Christian Episcopacy.”

“Although the work, in a pecuniary sense, was by no means profitable; yet, the distribution of the copies among the higher ranks, produced the happiest effects, by removing the prejudice which had been excited in the public mind, through the writings of the Bishop of Exeter, and others.”

“I ought to be thankful for every mitigation of pain; but it becomes, I think, plainer than ever, that I have a real attack of the dropsy, which whether I shall get the better of it, or it, by and by, get the better of me, is a question. I totter on my legs, and, though I look pretty well, yet there are few intervals in the day wherein I have anything like strength either of body or mind. However, I set no bounds to my Saviour’s power, if He sees it good to continue me here a little longer; but it is hardly to be any more expected in my case. I really do all I can to support my impaired constitution, and walk, most days, a little in the chapel or burying-ground, till I am ready to drop down. All that I can properly desire of my gracious Lord is, that, He would be merciful to me an unworthy sinner, wash me from all my unfaithfulness and transgressions in His blood, keep me in communion with Himself and His people, help me to behave rightly, at least not offensively, in my sickness, and be perceptibly near to me in my last hour, whenever it is to be.”

“The writing of the few lines before the present, was the work of several days, attended with more difficulty and pain than any one is able to conceive, who does not feel what I have suffered. But to complain is disagreeable to me. The constant prayer of my heart, most tenderly united with yours, is for the welfare and prosperity of the Church of God, and especially that part of it which is the immediate object of our care. May our faithful and best Friend, who purchased it with His blood, and is the supreme Head thereof, so defend His people amidst all opposition, and support His servants who labour in the word and doctrine, and have the general charge over His house, that the several members of it may increase in faith, hope, and love, to their comfort and joy.

“With respect to myself, if I may judge from what I feel, I can think no otherwise than that I am very near the end of my course. Therefore, all my prayers are centred in this, that my gracious Lord may wash me, a sinner, in His blood, and abide always near me, especially in my last extremity.”

“Oxon, Sept. 2, 1736. I hereby thank you, as for all other favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew.”

“Weston, near Northampton, December 30, 1747.

“Assure yourself, dear sir, that I can never forget the tender-hearted and generous Fellow of Lincoln, who condescended to take such compassionate notice of a poor under-graduate, whom almost everybody condemned; and when no man cared for my soul.”[143]

“He is a man of surprising greatness of soul; and, if you look for his virtues, you will not be able to discover them one by one, but you will see that he walks before God with a reverence and alacrity which includes them all.”[144]

“Lincoln College, Oxon, Sept. 16, 1733.

“Dear Sister,—Was there any occasion to apologize for the serious purport of this, it would be sufficient to direct you to the date,[145] and the time of its inditing, but I promise myself, that, to you anything of this nature will be unnecessary; for, though we are in the very prime and spring of our years, strongly disposed to admire, and perfectly capacitated to relish the gaieties of youth, yet we have been inured to moderate the warmth of our appetites, accustomed to anticipate in our minds the days of darkness, and incessantly disciplined into a remembrance of our Creator. For my part, I find no season so proper to address one of the principal sharers of my heart, one of my nearest and dearest relations, as that I have at present chose and made use of, when either an universal silence composes the soul, and calms every turbulent emotion, or the voice of joy and gladness, speaking through celestial music, invites to adore the wonders of our Redeemer’s love, touches upon the strings of the softest passions, and inspires the most sweet, most tender sentiments.

“As I was the other day traversing the fields in quest of health, I observed that they had lost that profusion of fragrant odours which once perfumed the air, and were disrobed of that rich variety of curious dyes which surpassed even Solomon in all his glory. Not a single flower appears to gladden the sight, to bespangle the ground, or enamel the barren landscape. The clouds, that recently distilled in dews of honey, or poured themselves forth in showers of fatness, now combine in torrents to overflow the lifeless earth, and to bury or sweep away all the faint footsteps of ancient beauty. The hills, that were crowned with corn the valleys that laughed and sung under loads of golden grain, in a word, the whole face of nature, that so lately rejoiced for the abundance of her plenty, is become bare, naked, and disconsolate. As I was continuing my walk, and musing on this joyless scene, methought, the sudden change exhibited a lively picture of our frail and transitory state; methought, every object that occurred seemed silently to forewarn me of my own future condition.

“I dwelt on these considerations till they fermented in my fancy, and worked themselves out in such-like expressions: ‘What! must we undergo so grievous an alteration? We, whose sprightly blood circulates in brightest tides? We, who are the favourites of time, on whom youth, and health, and strength, shed their selectest influence? We, who are so apt to look upon ourselves as exempt from cares, or pains, or troubles, and privileged to drink in the sweets of life without restraint, without alloy? Must we forego the sunshine of our enjoyments for anything resembling this melancholy gloom? Must the sparkling eye set in haggard dimness? the lovely features and glowing cheeks be obscured by pale deformity? Must soft and gay desires be banished from our breasts, or mirth and jollity from our conversation? Must the vigour of our age fall away like water that runneth apace, and the blissful minutes of the prime of our years vanish like a dream? If this be our case, in vain do we boast of our superior felicity. In vain do we glory in being the darlings of heaven. The inanimate creation droop indeed, sicken and languish, for a time; but quickly revive, rejoice, and again shine forth in their brightest lustre. It is true, they relinquish, at the approach of winter, their verdant honours; but rest fully assured of receiving them with interest from the succeeding spring. But man, when he has passed the autumn of his maturity,—when he has once resigned himself into the cold embraces of age,—bids a long, an eternal adieu to all that is entertaining, amiable, or endearing. No pleasing expectations refresh his mind; not the least dawnings of hope glimmer in to qualify the darksome looking-for of Death.’

“I had not long indulged these bitter reflections before I espied a remedy for those sore evils which occasioned them. Though I perceived all our passionate delights to be vanity, and the issue of them vexation of spirit; yet I saw, likewise, that virtue was substantial, and her fruits joy and peace;—that, though all things come to an end, the ways of wisdom were exceeding broad. The seeds of piety, if implanted in our tender breasts, duly cherished, and constantly cultivated, will bud and blossom even in the winter of our days; and, when white and red shall be no more,—when all the outward embellishments of our little fabric shall disappear,—this will still flourish in immortal bloom.

“To walk humbly with our God, dutifully with our parents, and charitably with all, will be an inexhaustible source of never-ceasing comforts. What, though we shall sometimes be unable to hear the voice of singing men and singing women,—though all the senses prove false to their trust, and refuse to be any longer inlets of pleasure,—it is now, dear sister, it is now in our power to make such happy provisions as even then, in those forlorn circumstances, may charm our memories with ravishing recollections, and regale all our faculties with the continual feast of an applauding conscience. What sweet complacency, what unspeakable satisfaction shall we reap from the contemplation of an uninterrupted series of spotless actions! No present uneasiness will prompt us impatiently to wish for our dissolution, nor anxious fears for futurity make us immoderately dread the impending stroke. All will be calm, easy, and serene. All will be soothed by this precious, this invaluable thought, that, by reason of the meekness, the innocence, the purity, and other Christian graces which adorned the several stages of our progress through the world, our names and our ashes will be embalmed; the chambers of our tomb consecrated into a paradise of rest; and our souls, white as our locks, by an easy transition, become angels of light.

“I am, with love to my brother, dear sister, your most affectionate brother,

(To his sister.)

“Lincoln College, Oxon, March 28, 1734.

“Dear Sister,—My fancy has often took its flight to Hardingstone, and delighted itself with the imaginary conversation of you and my other dear relatives. I have frequently recollected, and, as it were, acted over again in my mind the many pleasing hours we have spent together in reading holy and edifying books, or discoursing on pious and useful subjects.

“There is great reason for congratulation, on account of your being so choice a favourite of heaven, as your frequent sicknesses, and often infirmities speak you to be. How does the goodness of our gracious Father endeavour, by the repeated, though lightest, strokes of His rod, to cure whatever is disordered, to rectify whatever is amiss in you! Do not then hold out against these kind calls to repentance; but suffer yourself, by this loving correction, to be made great;—great in humility, holiness, and happiness. Humble yourself under the mighty hand of God; and, by a hearty sorrow for your past faults, and a firm resolution of obedience for the future, let this fatherly chastisement bring forth in you the peaceable fruits of righteousness.”

“Lincoln College, Oxon, May 2, 1734.

“Dear Sister,—I scarcely know any human composition more likely to improve and edify, at the same time that it diverts and delights, than this poem of “The Last Day.” If you would please yourself, refine your taste, or have the practice of religion pleasing, instead of plays, ballads, and other corrupt writings, read this almost Divine piece of poetry;—read it (as I have done), over and over; think upon it; endeavour to digest it thoroughly; and even to get by heart the most moving passages: and then, I trust, you will find it answer the ends I purpose in sending it.

“You will excuse me from exercising my poetical talent; because, I perceive, such an attempt will be either very absurd, or very dangerous. For, should I tack together a few doggerel rhymes, this would be an affront to you; whereas, should I succeed so well as to gain the applause of my reader, this, I am sure, would portend very great harm, if not to you, yet, most certainly, to me. For what can portend greater harm than the words of praise, which, though smoother than oil, yet, are very swords? What can be more destructive of that humble mind which was in Christ Jesus,—that meek and lowly spirit which is in the sight of God of great price? I am so far from carrying on my versifying designs, that, I heartily wish I had never conceived any; and that those lines I sent to my cousin had either never been made, or that I had never heard them commended. Pride and vanity are foolish and unreasonable in dust and ashes; and, which is worse, odious and detestable before infinite perfection and infinite power.”

“Oxon, July 29, 1735.

“Dear Sir,—Is the sacrament indeed administered at one or other of your churches every Sunday? Sure then the lot is fallen to you in a fair ground; sure you have a goodly heritage. The holy eucharist is a communion of the body and blood of Christ;—a participation of all the benefits procured for us by His most meritorious passion. In this most comfortable sacrament, pardon is freely offered to all. Has any one been an enemy to God by wicked works? By this body shall he be reconciled. By this blood shall his peace be made.

“Let me put this one question, and I have done. In the last great day, on what will you rely for salvation? Will you seek to your good thoughts and pious discourses? Alas! they are full of imperfection, and cannot bear the severe trial. All your own righteousnesses are as filthy rags, and will be utterly unable to gain your acceptance. To what then will you have recourse? To whom will you fly in this great extremity? Surely, to the sufferings of Jesus Christ. There is nothing else under heaven whereby you can be saved, but His meritorious passion. Unless His body plead in your behalf, you are covered with shame, and everlasting confusion. Unless His blood make your peace, you are cast, you perish, you are eternally undone. Think, oh, do but think deeply on this, and then you will gladly embrace every occasion of partaking of the holy communion.

“By exhibiting such benefits, by urging such motives, may we prevail on all our neighbours to secure to themselves a resting place for their souls, an anchor of their hopes, sure and stedfast.

“Yours in the Lord,

“James Hervey.”[146]

“April 8, 1736.

“Honoured Sir,—You reprove me for my dilatory way of proceeding,—very justly I own. I hope, I shall, from this time, amend. I was examined yesterday. I must do my juraments five times on Friday, and be admitted to my degree on Monday. Mr. H⸺ tells me, I must wear a bachelor’s gown.

“Mr. Farrer, a little while ago, asked me to resign my room to a pupil of his, who is to come the middle of this month. To which proposal, I have agreed, because I can live much cheaper out of college. I shall, by this means, save the expense of calling up, of bed-making, etc., as well as have a room at a cheaper rate, and pay for it only when I am resident: on which account, I assure myself, this step, I have taken, will be approved of by you and my mother.

“I am sorry to hear of your being obliged to go on with farming. I could wish you would let it, though at some disadvantage, and though we should suffer thereby something in our fortunes.

“As to the curacy near Bath, I can give you no determinate answer. My friend, I believe, is a very sincere one, and will do me what service he can. There is one person who has had the offer of it before me: whether he will accept of it is not known. As soon as I know, you shall know.

“I hope you will send me a letter next week, to wish me joy on being a graduate.

“James Hervey.”

“Hardingstone, June 12, 1736.

“I humbly thank you for sending me the Journal,” (probably Wesley’s, who was now in Georgia.) “Blessed be God, for His unspeakable love to the poor Indians, and for His watchful care of our dear friends! With what zeal and ardour do those glorious combatants run the race that is set before them. May we, dear Mr. Chapman, may we go and do likewise! go and improve our little stock of knowledge and holiness, by imparting them to as many as want and are willing to receive!

“I hope my evening assemblies are, and will be, prospered. I heartily thank you for advising me to resume those means of instructing my neighbours. I have had some comforting assurances that the sanctifying Spirit has been among us, and blessed my discourses to the edifying of the hearers. I have some from two parishes besides this, that attend upon my little catechetical lectures, and am likely to have a young gentleman from the academy at Northampton.

“If you are going to Bath, how must you behave yourself in such a situation? I wish I could advise you aright; but, I fear, I am one of those whom the apostle styles μυωπα ζοντες. Nevertheless, my opinion, such as it is, I will freely give you.

“I think then, sir, great regard is to be had to the genius and temper of the city. Since that is light and gay, I would accommodate myself to it as much as possible, so it be consistently with innocence. I would, at all times, endeavour to be perfectly cheerful and obliging and complaisant, to the utmost of my power. I would be earnest with God to make my countenance shine with a smiling serenity; that there might sit something on my cheeks, which would declare the peace and joy of my heart. The world has strange apprehensions of the Methodists. They imagine them to be so many walking mopes, more like the ghost in a play, than sociable creatures. To obviate this sad prejudice, be always sprightly and agreeable. If a pretty turn of wit, or a diverting story offer itself to your mind, do not scruple to entertain the company therewith. Everything that borders upon sourness, moroseness, or ill-breeding, I would cautiously avoid. And everything that may give a beautiful or amiable idea of holiness, I would study to show forth. I see no manner of harm in bowing at church, provided it be not in divine service, so as to interrupt our devotions. I think Mr. Wilson disapproved of this; but I cannot bring myself to believe, that, a modest and decent respect to our neighbours is disparaging to God, but rather acceptable to Him. I do not mean, by what I have said, that you should make all sorts of compliances. A solicitation to join with your acquaintance in billiards, dice, cards, dancing, etc., should be rejected.

“If Mr. Morgan is at Bath, pray present my thanks and love to him. God Almighty make him and you bold as lions, wise as serpents, and harmless as doves! If I had not heard you were at Oxon, this had been sent by the post to Bath.

“James Hervey.”

“Hardingstone, June 3, 1736.

“Dear Sir,—I think your proposal, as far as I can see into it, is very proper; and if discreetly managed, and steadily persisted in, cannot fail to be advantageous to yourself and others. This seems to be evident for several reasons; four of which at present occur to my mind.

“1. Because we are ignorant and short-sighted, and oftentimes unable to discern the things that are excellent. But God is pleased to reveal to one what is concealed from another; so that, in a multitude of counsellors, there is wisdom.

“2. Because we are lovers and admirers of ourselves, unwilling to see our own errors, and, therefore, unlikely to amend them. Whereas, our friends will, with a meek and impartial spirit, show us our faults.

“3. Because we are weak and irresolute; easily shaken from the most laudable purposes, and apt to let go our integrity upon any opposition. But a band of friends, who are like minded, inspires us with courage and constancy.

“4. Because we are slothful and lukewarm in religious duties. But a holy fellowship will kindle and keep alive a holy fervour. How often have I gone into the company of my dear friends, listless and spiritless; yet, when I came home, I have found myself quite another person; vigorous and active, sanguine and zealously affected in good matters.”[147]

“Lincoln College, Oxon, Sept. 1, 1736.

“Dear Mr. Darracott,—I wish you would suggest to me what I must do to further the Gospel of God my Saviour. I employ, every day, an hour or more with some well-inclined people of the poorer sort. We read Mr. Henry on the Holy Scriptures, and pray together. There is one set in one part of the city, and another in another. I meet them at a neighbour’s house. Oh! that I could also open my mouth as he did; so boldly, so powerfully!

“I am preparing to enter into holy orders, and to take upon me the work of the ministry. That great, wonderful, and important work! Help me with your prayers to the Lord God my Saviour, that I ‘may receive the Holy Ghost not many days hence,’ by the laying on of hands; even ‘the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.’

“Dear sir, pray give my humble service, and best thanks to Dr. Doddridge, and beg of him, when he is in the acceptable time, to remember me, who am in the time of need. If he has any word of exhortation; but, especially, if he has any treasures of instruction, proper for a candidate of the ministerial office, how glad should I be if he would please to impart them, and how gratefully should such a favour be always acknowledged by his and your affectionate servant and brother in Jesus Christ,

“J. Hervey.”[148]

“Oxon, Sept. 2, 1736.

“Rev. and Dear Sir,—I have read your Journal, and find that the Lord hath done great things for you already, whereof we rejoice. Surely, He will continue His loving-kindness to you, and show you greater things than these. Methinks, when you and dear Mr. Ingham go forth upon the great and good enterprise of converting the Indians, you will, in some respects, resemble Noah and his little household going forth of the ark. Wherever you go, you must walk among dry bones or carcasses, among a people that are aliens from the life of God, buried in ignorance, dead in trespasses and sins. Oh, may the blessing of that illustrious progenitor of ours, and of that favourite with the Most High, be upon your heads! May you be ‘fruitful and multiply,’ may you bring forth abundantly in that barren land and multiply therein!

“As for me, I am still a most weak, corrupt creature. But blessed be the unmerited mercy of God, and thanks be to your never to be forgotten example, that I am what I am. As to my strength, and activity with regard to others, I fear it may be too truly said, ‘It is to sit still.’ I am at present one of the multitude; but I expect, before this reaches you, to receive the office of a Deacon, and become a minister of the New Testament. Oh, may I also ‘receive the Holy Ghost not many days hence;’ and be made a faithful minister of those saving mysteries, from that time forth and for ever! I hope, I shall then hear a voice behind me, saying, ‘Awake thou that sleepest, from thy slumber, and Christ shall give thee light.’ Christ shall be thy sanctification, Christ shall be thy illumination. He shall stand by thee, and strengthen thee. He shall give thee both to will and to do. Through the power of His grace, thou shalt run and not faint; thou shalt be fervent in the business and propagation of righteousness, nor ever give over, till thou givest up thy soul to God, its Maker, and thy body return unto the dust, as it was.

“That I may be obedient to such a heavenly call, is, I hope, ‘all my wish and all my desire.’ This is, indeed, the treasure I value, the thing that I long for. Do you, dear sir, put up your incessant prayers; and, oh, let the mighty God set to His seal, that the thing may be established, that it may be unto me according to my heart’s desire! Then, will I invite you (my father, shall I call you, or my friend? For, indeed, you have been both unto me), to meet me among the spirits of just men made perfect; since I am not like to see your face in the flesh any more for ever! Then, will I bid you welcome, yea, I will tell of your love, before the universal assembly, and at the tremendous tribunal. I will hear with joy the Man Christ Jesus say of you, ‘Oh, ye that are greatly beloved. Well done, good and faithful servants; ye have served your Lord and your generation with your might; ye have finished the work, which the eternal foreknowledge of my Father gave you to do. If others have turned their thousands, ye have turned your tens of thousands from the power of Satan unto God. Receive, therefore, a glorious kingdom,—a beautiful and immortal crown from my hand. Enter, with the children I have given you,—with the souls that you have won. Oh ye blessed ones, ye heirs of glory, enter in at those everlasting doors, and receive there the reward of your labours, even the fulness of joy for ever and ever.’

“I am, and may I always be, dear sir, your son in the Lord Jesus Christ,

“J. Hervey.

“P. S. I heartily thank you, as for all other favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew.[149] I have cultivated (according to your advice) this study, and am, blessed be God, the giver of knowledge! somewhat improved in this language. My prayers accompany you, and all that are engaged with you in the same glorious design. Let me also have yours and theirs for Jerusalem’s, for Christ’s sake.”[150]

“Dummer, June 27, 1737.

“Dear Brother,—I find you are at London looking out for a trade, and a master to set yourself to. I hope, you pray earnestly to God to guide you in your choice. Desire also your honoured mother, and mine, to have a great regard to your soul. Let it be inquired, not only whether such a tradesman be a man of substance and credit, but also, whether he be a man of religion and godliness? Whether he be a lover of good people, a careful frequenter of the Church? Whether his children be well nurtured and educated in the fear of the Lord? Whether family prayer be daily offered up in his house? Whether he believes that the souls of his servants are committed to his trust, and that he will be answerable for the neglect of them at the judgment-seat? It will be sadly hazardous to venture yourself under the roof of any person, who is not furnished with these principles, or is a stranger to these practices. But, if he be contrary to all these, a despiser of God and goodness, wholly devoted to carnal pleasure and worldly gain; if he not only omit the religious care and oversight of his household, but also set them a wicked and corrupt example, let nothing induce you to enter into his service.”

“Dummer, October 26, 1737.

“Dear Mr. ⸺,—I received your last at Oxford. After that, I removed to Stanton-Harcourt; and now am replaced at Dummer. These frequent removals and changes of situation, I hope, will be some small excuse for my dilatoriness in writing; for, you know, they occasion trouble and take up time.

“Mr. Broughton, Mr. Gambold, and Mr. Kinchin, have been exercising their ministry here. O may I not pull down, by my indiscretion or inactivity, what they have begun to build!

“As to the making of sermons, I am deterred from writing them, not because I look upon it as a useless employment; but because I feel, and cannot help confessing, my absolute inequality to a task so important. I entreat your intense and persevering prayers on my behalf, that the great and good God, the dispenser of all wisdom, would vouchsafe to be a light to my darkness, and strength to my weakness. Should these supplications be graciously answered, my heart will then teem both with abundance of matter, and propriety of expression; my pen too will be that of a ready writer.

“I am, dear sir, your obliged and affectionate, but unworthy friend,

“J. Hervey.”[153]

“Bristol, February 3, 1738.

“Worthy Sir,—I have been at Bristol little less than a fortnight, waiting of an opportunity of coming to Cornwall by water; but, the wind still continuing contrary, I intend, this day, to set out for Exeter, on horseback. I hope, by three or four easy stages, to reach it on Monday or Tuesday next. Here I propose to rest, till I have the satisfaction of hearing from my much-esteemed, though unknown patron. I expect, sir, to be sorely fatigued, not being accustomed to travelling; and, if you please to permit your man and horse (for I dare not presume to ask for your chariot) to give me the meeting at Exeter, by the time he arrives, I hope to have worn off my weariness. I beg my humblest service may be accepted by your lady, and am, good sir, your obliged humble servant,

“James Hervey.”

“Stoke Abbey, March 21, 1738.

“Rev. and Honoured Sir,—How agreeably surprising was the news, which a letter of Mr. Chapman’s lately brought me. I am at a loss to say, whether it was more unexpected or more grateful. It assured me that Mr. Wesley was arrived in England; had visited Oxon; and was coming to Bath: and shall I not hasten a congratulatory address, to welcome the friend of my studies, the friend of my soul, the friend of all my valuable and eternal interests? To do it cannot be deemed impertinency; but not to do it would justly bring upon me the imputation of ingratitude.

“I hope, sir, your health is not impaired by your travels. I dare say, your experience is increased, and your knowledge enlarged; your faith strengthened, and your zeal quickened. I do not doubt but the God whom you serve, has shown you wonderful things in His righteousness; His Almighty wisdom and goodness have dealt graciously with you, and wrought marvellously by you. O! how greatly pleasing, and, perhaps, not unprofitable would a relation of them be.

“I believe you had the pleasure of finding some of the Oxonians grown considerably in grace. They have made haste, since your departure, to improve their talents; and to edify their neighbours, as though they were earnestly and resolvedly desirous to enjoy their company in a better world.

“You cannot but have heard, and, hearing, you cannot but rejoice at, the successful zeal of our friend Whitefield. All London, and the whole nation ring of μεγαλια του Θεου done by his ministry. But, alas! it will damp your rising satisfaction to receive an account of useless, worthless Hervey’s having run a round of sin and vanity; and, at length, weary and giddy, being almost ready to drop into hell. Oh! it is not fit to be mentioned; worthy of nothing but oblivion. Spare the narrative, and cure the wretch. Send a line, and accompany it with a prayer, to warm my frozen and benumbed soul; that, if there be any seeds of goodness latent, any sparks of piety dormant in my breast, they may break forth to life, and kindle into a flame.

“I am retired from the scene of action into a worthy and wealthy gentleman’s family. Mr. Chapman will inform you, how much he deserves your prayers, and the prayers of all who are mighty with God and prevail.

“Dear sir, if other business,—if other charitable employments will allow you leisure, pray favour me with a letter. To none will it be more acceptable; by none is it more needed, than by your most obliged humble servant,

“James Hervey.”

“1738. June 19. My disorder is a languor and faintness, a feebleness and inability for action, which is increased or lessened according to the various temperature of the weather. I bless God Almighty! I am not deprived of my appetite for food, neither are my bones chastened with pain; so that, many impute all my complaints to a hippish and over-timorous turn of mind,—to a distempered imagination, rather than a disordered body.

“I have been about twenty or twenty-six miles into Cornwall, and seen wondrous workmanship of the all-creating God. At Bideford, about fourteen miles off, I am pretty well known, and am a little esteemed. It is strange to tell, but let it be to the glory of God’s free and undeserved goodness, though I am worthy of shame and universal contempt, that, I find favour almost wherever I go.”

“We, the underwritten, whom God’s providence has wonderfully brought acquainted with each other, for purposes, no doubt, of piety and everlasting salvation, sensible how blind and corrupt our nature is, how forward to fall into errors and iniquities, but how backward to discern or amend them;—knowing also the great advantage of kind and affectionate, but, at the same time, sincere and impartial reproof and admonition;—do oblige ourselves to watch over each other’s conduct, conversation, and tempers; and, whenever we perceive anything amiss therein,—any duty ill done, or not done so well as it ought,—anything omitted which might be for our spiritual good, or practised which will tend to our spiritual hurt,—in fine, any thing practised or neglected, which we shall wish to have been otherwise in a dying hour:—All this we will watch to observe, never fail to reprove, and earnestly endeavour to correct in each other, that so, we may have nothing to upbraid one another with when we meet in the eternal state. We resolve to do all this with the utmost plainness, and all honest freedom; and, provided it be done with tenderness, with apparent good-will, and in private, we will esteem it as the greatest kindness we can show,—the truest interest of sincere friendship that we can exercise, and the only way of answering the gracious ends of Almighty wisdom in bringing us together. In witness and confirmation of which resolution, we here subscribe our names.

“Paul Orchard,
”James Hervey.”

“November 28, 1738.”

“Stoke Abbey, December 1, 1738.

“Most Dear and Reverend Sir,—Whom I love and honour in the Lord: indeed, it is not through any forgetfulness of your favours, or unconcernedness for your welfare, that, you have not heard from me, but through the miscarriage of my letter. Immediately on the news of your first arrival in England, I made haste to salute you, and wondered why your answer was so long in coming; but wondered more when I heard you had left the nation a second time,[156] without being so condescending as to own me, or so kind as to vouchsafe me a single line. But, now, sir, that, I am assured under your own hand, that, you have escaped the perils of the sea, the perils of foreign countries, the perils of those that oppose the truth; and, that, you, restored in safety to your native country, are resettled at Oxon, and both have been doing, and still are doing spiritual and everlasting good to men,—I may truly say ‘my heart rejoiceth, even mine.’

“O that I could give you a comfortable account of myself, and of my zeal for God! Alas! I must confess, with shame and sorrow, ‘my zeal has been to sit still.’ I am not strong in body, and am lamentably weak in spirit. Sometimes, my bodily disorders clog the willing mind, and are a grievous weight upon its wheels. At other times, the mind is oppressed with sloth, and thereby rendered listless and indisposed for labouring in the Lord. Pray for me, dearest sir, and engage all my friends to cry mightily to Heaven in my behalf, if so be, this dry rod may bud and blossom; this barren tree may bring forth much fruit.

“I live in the family of a worthy gentleman, who is a hearty well-wisher to the cause of pure and undefiled religion; who desires no greater happiness than to love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity; and who would be glad of a place for himself and household in your prayers.

“Dear sir, will you permit me to inform you what is said, though I verily believe slanderously said, of you? It is reported, that, the dearest friends I have in the world are setters forth of strange doctrines, that are contrary to Scripture, and repugnant to the Articles of our Church. This cannot but give me uneasiness; and I should be glad to have my fears removed by yourself. It is said, that, you inculcate faith, without laying stress upon good works; and, that, you endeavour to dissuade honest tradesmen from following their occupations, and persuade them to turn preachers. Now, these calumnies I wish you would give me power to confute, who am,

“Dear sir, your ever obliged and grateful friend,

“J. Hervey.”

“Joseph Humphrey was the first lay preacher that assisted me in England, in the year 1738.”[157]

“Stoke Abbey, April 4, 1739.

“Dear Mr. Whitefield,—Your kind favour, dated March 6, I received not till yesterday, not returning sooner from worthy Mr. Thompson’s charge. O that he may not find his dear flock gone back; but adorned in Christian knowledge, during his absence from them!

“I thank you for the good news you sent me. Christ enable me to praise, rejoice, and give thanks on this behalf!

“I am obliged for the searching questions you put to me. Before I answer them, give me leave to exhort you in the words of the Psalmist, ‘Try me, my dear and faithful friend, try me, and seek the ground of my heart, and examine my thoughts; look well if there be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’

“First question, Does the Spirit of God witness with your spirit that you are a child of God? In truth, I cannot tell. I have sometimes a comforting hope, that I am a child, and not an outcast; a true son, and no bastard; but whether this persuasion cometh of Him that has called men to salvation, I know not. Whether it be the testimony of the Holy Spirit witnessing within me, or the whisper of a vain presumption speaking peace where there is no peace, I am at a loss to determine. Tell me, dear sir, by what touchstone I shall distinguish them.

“Second question, Have you peace and joy in the Holy Ghost? I sometimes do rejoice, and not in carnal satisfactions, but in hope of the glory which shall be revealed. But the bright prospect is quickly intercepted; dark clouds of fear intervene; and sad misgivings of mind throw a damp upon the rising joy. Sometimes I am blessed with inward peace, and possess my soul in tranquility; but this also is like our April sun,—very changeable and short-lived. The sweet calm is broken, and ruffling gusts of peevishness and uneasiness discompose the tenour of my mind. I must confess, that, I feel touches of envy (oh that I could mingle my tears with my ink, as I write!), motions of pride, hankering after unnecessary sensual delights; that, I too frequently am destitute of love to my brethren, of a compassionate long-suffering zeal for their welfare, and cannot perceive one spark of devotion kindled in my cold heart. For these things, my soul is, at some intervals, disquieted within me. Such sad experiences turn my peace into pain; they destroy my gladness, and fill me with grief.

“Third question, Are we justified by faith only? I answer, By faith only. Works can have no share in our justification, because there is iniquity in our holy things. They are done after an imperfect manner, or from improper views, or sullied with some secret self-glorying; and, therefore, cannot recommend themselves, much less the sinful doers of them, to infinite purity. Nay, if God should enter into strict and rigorous judgment, I fear our best works would deserve punishment. And to think, that, those performances, which deserve punishment, can merit, either in whole or in part, in any measure or degree, an eternal reward, is surely to misjudge the case. It seems to be as false as to fancy, that, the addition of some dross would enhance the value, or increase the lustre, of refined gold. Yet still I believe, that, these works, poor and mean and imperfect as they are, are absolutely necessary, and that there is no justification without them. A tenant upon lease must duly and punctually pay his pepper-corn, though it be not considered, by the payer or receiver, as of any worth at all. So, a Christian must exercise himself in all good works, if he would obtain salvation, though that can add no worth to the perfect, sufficient, and alone meritorious sacrifice of Jesus Christ. We must be as careful to maintain good works, as if our salvation was the purchase of them alone, and yet renounce them utterly, and rely upon the merits, death, and intercession of our blessed Saviour, who is made unto them that believe, not only wisdom, but righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.

“If I am wrong, be pleased to inform me; and God Almighty give me a child-like, unprejudiced, teachable spirit! Pray for me, dear sir, that, my sins, which blind my understanding, may be subdued; and that; together with a right spirit, I may have a right judgment in all things. That text, James ii. 24, I dare not blot out of my Bible, and I cannot put out of my mind. Indeed, it perplexes me. It makes me unsettled and wavering. When I think of it, I am ready (ready! nay, ought I not to be resolved, since the Apostle has put the words into my mouth?) to alter my reply, and say, not by faith only, but by works (in conjunction with it) a man is justified. Give me leave, henceforward, to become your pupil in this important doctrine of Christianity, as I have long been, and ever shall be,

“Your most affectionate friend,

“J. Hervey.”[158]

“Stoke Abbey, April 18, 1739.

“Dear Mr. Kinchin,—This day, a letter informs me, that, my worthy and ever-esteemed Rector has hearkened to men of unsound opinions, and is turning aside to their errors;—that, he is inclined to throw off his gown, renounce the Church of England, relinquish his Fellowship and living, and become itinerant preacher. And can I see a friend, who has been kind to me as a father, is dear to me as a brother,—can I see such a friend run away with such erroneous and pernicious notions, and sit silent and unconcerned? No; my affections constrain me; and I cannot hold my peace. I love him, and, therefore, must speak. I love him tenderly, and, therefore, must speak freely.”

“There is no man living that I more sincerely love and honour than Mr. Wesley. His memory is most dear and deservedly precious to me; but, yet, I must frankly own, he is liable to mistakes,—mistakes in religion, and dangerous ones too. I remember the time when he was fond of the mystic writers; read one of their leading authors over and over again; and commended what he read as the best book, next to those that were given by inspiration. But, within the space of a few months, he saw his error; retracted his opinions; and inveighed against them as studiously as he ever extolled them. This I mention only to show, that, the best designing men,—men of eminent learning and exemplary devotions,—may be led into false apprehensions of things. He has arguments, I do not doubt, to support his tenets, as he had in the former case, and can manage them with a masterly skill; but, yet, he may be deceived, though he means only the glory of Christ. Therefore, dear sir, withhold your assent a little, and do not too easily fall in with his principles. At least, suspend your determination for awhile; wait the event; and let that speak for the attempt.

“You see how moderate I am in the matter. I do not exclaim against the gentlemen who have brought these new doctrines to our ears. If truth and purer Christianity be on their side, God forbid, but that I myself and every true-hearted disciple should go over to their party! Only have a little patience; tarry thou the issue of things; and let excitus acta probet.

“I wonder why they dissuade you from cleaving to the Establishment. Why do they find fault with our excellent Church? And why should they entice you from your parish? Sure we are, that, the Holy Ghost made you overseer over that little flock; but, that, He has released you from the charge and called you to another sphere of labour, is not so evident. There was a time when Mr. Wesley was a warm and able advocate of the primitive institutions. I marvel, that, he is so soon removed to another opinion. This is a fresh conviction how variable his mind is, and, though burning with zeal for God, yet, given to change. And, having altered so often already, why may he not alter again, and new-mould his present sentiments as well as his former?

“They advise you to become an itinerant preacher. But why? I would gladly know. Is greater perfection to be attained by wandering into the wide world, and preaching in variety of places? Or will this way of preaching be more successful and efficacious? I cannot bring myself to believe this.

“Etc., etc.,

“James Hervey.”

“Stoke Abbey, May 10, 1739.

“Dear Mr. Whitefield,—I sincerely thank you for your last letter. I can hardly bring myself to assent to your whole account of justification by faith. This, perhaps, may proceed from some obstinate prejudices, rather than from reasonable and weighty scruple. However, I waive the mention of my objections, and make the care of my own right faith give place to a concern for the principles and practices of my dear friends.

“It is reported, and creditably reported, from Oxon, that, several strange notions have been lately broached there, and have gained proselytes and espousers among the most hopeful and promising part of the University. They, who bravely stood their ground against sin, are become an unhappy prey to error and delusion. I hope you are not fallen from your once avowed steadfastness to the truth as it is in Jesus, and as it is in our excellent Church. It is whispered, indeed, that, the seducers are practising their arts upon you, and trying to subvert my dear Mr. Whitefield’s orthodoxy.

“In a late letter, I gave an answer to some queries you were pleased to put to me. Now, I beg the favour of your opinions concerning the following doctrines: ‘That, the Distinction, Order, Degrees, even Robes and Habits of the University are all Anti-Christian; that, nothing is taught in it, but that learning and wisdom, which opposes the power of God; that, whoso is born of God is also taught of God, not in any limited sense, but, so as to make the use of natural means of no effect; that, all human learning (however said to be sanctified of God) entirely disqualifies us for preaching the true Gospel of Jesus Christ; that, an Established ministry is a mere invention of men; that, our whole Church and all its authority, are founded on, and supported by a lie; and, that, all who receive power of preaching from it, are in a state of slavery, and must throw off all obedience to it, before they can enjoy the freedom of the Gospel.

“These tenets, extravagant and pernicious as they are, have been, I find, studiously advanced; but let them not have the sanction of your approbation. If they will get abroad into the world, let them go branded with your dislike and censure.

“James Hervey.”

“Yes, dear sir, with pleasure, I send another letter. I rejoice to find, that, you remember me. I am thankful, that, you have not renounced a correspondent, made odious by so much ingratitude.

“You are pleased to ask, How the Holy Ghost convinced me of self-righteousness, and drove me out of my false rests? Indeed, sir, I cannot precisely tell. The light was not instantaneous, but gradual. It did not flash upon my soul, but arose like the dawning day. A little book, wrote by Jenks, upon Submission to the Righteousness of God, was made serviceable to me. Your Journals, dear sir, and Sermons, especially that sweet Sermon upon ‘What think ye of Christ?’ were a means of bringing me to a knowledge of the truth. And another excellent piece has been, and I hope will be, as so much precious eye-salve to my dim and clouded understanding,—I mean ‘Marshall’s Gospel Mystery of Sanctification.’

“These,—blessed be He, who is a light to them that sit in darkness!—have, in some degree, convinced me of my former errors. I now begin to see, that, I have been labouring in the fire, and wearying myself for very vanity, while I have attempted to establish my own righteousness. I trusted I knew not what, while I trusted in some imaginary good deeds of my own. These are no hiding-place from the storm. They are a refuge of lies. If I had the meekness of Moses, and the patience of Job, the zeal of Paul, and the love of John, I durst not advance the least plea to everlasting life on this footing. But as for my own beggarly performances,—wretched righteousness,—gracious, adorable Emmanuel!—I am ashamed; I am grieved, that I should thrust them into the place of Thy Divine, Thy inconceivable precious obedience!

“My schemes are altered. I now desire to work in my blessed Master’s service, not for, but, from salvation. I believe, that, Jesus Christ, the Incarnate God, is my Saviour; that, He has done all which I was bound to perform; and suffered all that I was condemned to sustain; and, so, has procured a full, final, and everlasting salvation for a poor damnable sinner. I would now fain serve Him who has saved me. I would glorify Him before men, who has justified me before God. I would study to please Him in holiness and righteousness all the days of my life. I seek this blessing, not as a condition, but, as a part,—a choice and inestimable part of that complete salvation, which Jesus has purchased for me.

“Now, if at any time, I am fervent in devotion,—seem to be in a gracious frame,—or am enabled to abound in the works of the Lord,—I endeavour to put no confidence in these bruised reeds, but to rest upon the Rock of Ages. Not in these, most blessed Jesus, but in Thy robes of righteousness, let me be found, when ‘God shall call the heavens from above, and the earth, that, He may judge His people.’

“When, on the other hand, I feel myself most deplorably dead and deficient,—when I am apt to sigh for my unprofitableness, and cry out with the prophet, ‘My leanness, my leanness!’ I no longer comfort myself with saying, ‘Be of good cheer, soul, thy God requires only sincere obedience, and, perhaps, to-morrow may be better than this day, and more abundant in acts of holiness.’ Jesus is now become my salvation, and this is my song in the house of my pilgrimage,—‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul?’ Though imperfect in thyself, thou art complete in thy Head. Though poor in thyself, thou hast unsearchable riches in thy Divine Surety. The righteousness of Thy obedience, O Lord Redeemer, is everlasting. O grant me an interest in this, and I shall live.

“If overtaken by sin, or overcome by temptation, I dare not, as formerly, call to mind my righteous deeds, and so think to commute with Divine justice; or quit scores for my offences, by my duties. I do not, to ease my conscience, or be reconciled to God, promise stricter watchfulness, more alms, and renewed fastings. No; in such unhappy circumstances, turn, O my soul! neither to the right hand nor to the left; but fly instantly to Him, whom God has set forth for a propitiation. Hide thyself in His wounded side, and be safe. Wash in His streaming blood, and be clean.

“If in these, or in other points, I am otherwise minded, than corresponds with the gospel of truth, cease not, dear sir, to pray, that, ‘God may reveal even this unto me.’

“But why will not my dear friend come amongst us? Why won’t he drop his word towards the west? Many, in these parts, long for your arrival. Many long to hear the joyful sound from your lips. Many, I am assured, would hail my dear brother with that acclamation, ‘How beautiful are the feet of him that bringeth glad tidings; that bringeth glad tidings of good things!’ O that it would please the Divine Providence to direct your way unto us! Come, dear sir, come with the fulness of the blessings of the gospel of peace. Come amongst living multitudes, who will be attentive to hear you; and come, once more, into the arms of him who dearly loves you.

“J. Hervey.”[159]

“Your excellent proposal is not yet put into execution; we have no evening prayers in public as yet; nay, I have not so much as communicated the design to my rector. I am shamefully timorous: lions, giants, and the sons of Anak are much in my thoughts. I dream (and may it be no more than a dream, and not too real a presage,) of difficulties, both in getting leave to attempt, and in getting strength to perform, this spiritual service, which I owe to my little flock. Your zeal will reproach me with cowardice; your faith upbraid me with unbelief; but, O, let your charity and pity pray against both. I hope ere long to disclose the matter to Mr. Nichols.”

“Bideford, 1741.

“Dear Mr. Whitefield,—Your favour struck me with an agreeable surprise. I verily thought my stubborn silence had razed me from your remembrance; but, since you still have an affection for an ungrateful friend, I take this opportunity of returning my grateful acknowledgments.

“I rejoice to hear the Redeemer’s cause revives. Set up Thyself, O Incarnate God! above the heavens, and diffuse Thy glory through all the earth! Let Thy enemies perish, O Lord! Let disappointments attend the attempts of Thy foes and the devices of hell; but let Thy servants be prosperous, and their message crowned with success!

“Dear sir, I cannot boast of trophies erected here by the Captain of our salvation; but, I hope, the arm of the Lord will be revealed more and more among us. I hope, the triumphs of free grace will have wider spread and free course, and will prevail mightily over our unbelief. I own, with shame and sorrow, that, I have been too long a blind leader of the blind. I have perverted the good ways of God, and have darkened the glory of redeeming merit and sovereign grace. I have dared to invade the prerogatives of an all-sufficient Saviour, and to pluck the crown off His head. I have derogated from the honours, the everlasting and incommunicable honours of Jesus. I have presumed to give works a share in the redemption and recovery of a lost sinner; and have placed those filthy rags upon the throne of the Lamb; and, by that means, debased the Saviour, and exalted the sinner.

“But, I trust, the Divine truth begins to dawn upon my soul. Was I possest of all the righteous acts that have made saints and martyrs famous in all generations,—could they all be transferred to me, and might I call them all my own,—I would renounce them all that I might win Christ. I would not dare to appear before the bright and burning eye of God with such hay, straw, and stubble. No, dear sir, I would long to be clothed in a Mediator’s righteousness, and ascribe all my salvation to the most unmerited and freest grace.

“Dear sir, cease not to pray for me; desist not to counsel me; since, I perceive, you cannot forbear to love me.

“I am,” etc.,

“J. Hervey.”

“I am only ashamed of the inconsiderable assistance which I am able to contribute to so worthy an attempt. Ashamed! no; but if it were lawful for a Christian to glory in anything beside the cross of Christ, this should be matter of glory and triumph to me. Their scorns, derision, and mockery, I would bind on my head as a beautiful crown, and be better pleased with such a character, than with an ornament of gold about my neck.”[160]

“You have heard, I do not doubt, that, Mr. Nichols, my rector, is no more: who will succeed him is yet a secret. Many, I believe, are eagerly wishing for it, as a place of considerable profit, but few, perhaps, are solicitously considering whether they are equal to the discharge of so difficult and important a service. But hold, my pen: what have I to do to judge others? Let it be all my care to approve myself faithful in my appointed station.”

“Weston, May 30, 1741.

“Dear Mr. W.⸺,—’Tis late, midnight drawing on, and the Sabbath approaches; but I must snatch a few minutes to tell my dear friend the good news. My father is made whole; quite freed from his pains; quite cured of his disorders; and almost in a new world. Deep, indeed, was his distress; grievous his affliction; but now the clouds are over and gone, and the voice of joy and health is restored to his dwelling.

“Now, therefore, I am free: I have no engagement here. My father, it is true, offers me a curacy; but, if Mr. ⸺ chooses it, and my dear people think it may contribute in any measure to their spiritual benefit, nothing hinders but I may return to Bideford: Return, and address them much in the same strain as Peter bespoke the impotent man: ‘Eloquence and oratory, learning and accomplishments have I none; but such as I have, in the name of Jesus, give I you,’ ”From your affectionate friend,

“J. Hervey.”[161]

“I live in the very heart of the town. O that the immortal interests of its inhabitants may be ever on my heart! May I covet no other prosperity, and pursue no other happiness, than to be an instrument of doing them some spiritual good! I hope, I shall never forget my dear people of Bideford. I shall bear them upon my heart, when I retire into my study for reading, when I walk solitary in the fields for exercise, and when I bend my knees before the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

“I rejoice to hear that dear Mr. Thompson[162] proposes to make you a monthly visit. O that his doctrine may distil as the dew! He will teach you the way of God more perfectly, for he has the unction of the Holy One, and knows the truth as it is in Jesus. There will not be wanting those who will censure his righteous dealings, and ridicule his zeal for the glorious Redeemer; but all those who have Jesus and His salvation, will say, ‘The Lord prosper you!’ If any of my acquaintances think it worth their while to hear from me, I shall, with as much pleasure, go to my desk and write to them, as I formerly went to their houses and conversed with them. I assure you, I would still seek to please my people for their good to edification.”

“Bideford, October 12, 1742.

“See how our judgments and inclinations alter in process of time! I once thought, I should make less use of the Spectator than you; but now, I believe, the reverse of this is true; for we read one or more of these elegant and instructive papers every morning at breakfast, and they are served up with our tea, according to their original design. We reckon our repast imperfect without a little of Mr. Addison’s or Mr. Steele’s company.”

“Dear Mrs. A⸺,—I am got as far as Bath, in my way homeward; and here I am likely to make a considerable stay. My friend, Mr. C⸺,[163] has taken a trip into Devon, and left me entrusted with his flock: so that, here is my abode till his return releases me.

“Sunday last[164] I spent at Bristol, attending Mr. Whitefield’s preaching. Never have I seen, never have I read, so remarkable an accomplishment of our Lord’s promise, as is evident in that indefatigable, powerful preacher. He does indeed believe in his Divine Master, and out of his heart flow rivers of living waters.

“This afternoon, some hopeful young persons came to visit me. They seemed to be in the number of those who are pressing forward unto the prize of their high calling in Christ Jesus. Perceiving them to be thus minded, I introduced a discourse concerning growth in grace,” etc.[165]

To Mrs. Orchard.

Bath, August 10, 1743.

“Madam,—I expected to have been at home before this time; but, as I have dropped short at Bath, and am likely to continue here awhile, you will give me leave to transmit my best wishes from hence.

“There is a good deal of company at Bath. A new mineral water is found out, about a mile distant from the city. It is grown into considerable repute, and is much frequented. Several of the nobility and gentry drink it constantly. It will not bear bottling, and, for that reason, must be used on the spot. It is called the Lincomb Spa.

“The latter season is approaching, which, you know, madam, brings abundance of strangers with it. Some invalids resort to the English Bethesda; some, as lovers of pleasure, to this mart for all manner of diversions. Every one seems studious of making a gay and grand appearance. It is, I think, one of the most glittering places I ever beheld. ‘Anointed with oil, crowned with rose-buds, and decked with purple and fine linen,’ they sport away their days, chanting to the sound of the viol, drinking wine in bowls, and stretching themselves on couches of ivory; and, perhaps, never remembering the afflictions of Jesus, nor His love, ‘which is better than wine,’ nor His name, ‘which is as ointment poured forth.’

“While they are contriving every art to embellish their persons, let us, dear madam, give all diligence to be all-glorious within. While they are studying to outvie the butterfly and the tulip, let us be animated by higher views, and put on the Lord Jesus Christ,” etc....

“And now, madam, will you permit me to anticipate a remark which you will naturally make. Shall I spare you the necessity of saying, Why here is a sermon instead of a letter.

“Indeed, madam, if it be a sermon, the Bath finery has furnished me with a text.

“And why, good madam, should not the world expect such sermon-like epistles from us ministers? Why will not they let us be comformable to ourselves, and act in character? Would you not expect to hear of engagements and victories from a soldier just come from making a campaign? Would any one be surprised to find a merchant discoursing of foreign affairs, or canvassing the state of trade? Nay, is it not allowable even for our tailor and milliner to talk of the newest fashions and most modish colour? Why, then, should not the agents for the court of heaven treat of heavenly things? Why should not their whole conversation savour of their calling? Why should they be one thing when they bend the knee, and another when they put pen to paper? Why act one part when they speak from the pulpit, and quite a different one when they converse in the parlour? To say the truth, madam, if you do not allow me this liberty, I may pretend, indeed, but can never act the grateful, the affectionate, the faithful, humble servant.”

“Bath, August 27, 1743.

“Reverend Sir,—Sunday last, I happened not to be at the Abbey Church in the afternoon; but, conversing with a gentleman who was one of your auditors, I desired to have a summary account of your sermon. And, truly, he gave me such an account as both astonished and grieved me. You dignified worldly prosperity at so extraordinary a rate, and almost canonized the prosperous man. On the other hand, you vilified the glorious Jesus in so scandalous a manner, and set the Incarnate Godhead to one of the most ignoble and abominable offices. This made me encourage my friend to send you a word of admonition; and, when he declined, I could not forbear undertaking it myself. For, it would be unkind to you, sir, to perceive you under such grievous mistakes, and not to warn you of the error of your ways. Nor would it be less unfaithful to your Master, and my Master, to be informed of such preaching, and suffer it to pass current, without any animadversion.

“I understand, you first exhorted people to rejoice, when their circumstances were affluent and their worldly affairs prosperous. You enforced this palatable advice by the precepts of Scripture; and, lest it should not be received with a proper welcome, you further urged it on your hearers by the example of our blessed Saviour.

“In opposition to this strain of teaching, permit me to observe, 1. That, worldly prosperity is no sufficient cause for a Christian to rejoice. 2. That, it is often one of the sorest evils that can befal a person. And 3. Allow me to sketch out the true nature of spiritual prosperity; or discover what is that solid ground for rejoicing, which the oracles of God recommend.”

“Sir,—This comes from your sincere friend, and one, who has your best interest deeply at heart. It comes on a design altogether important, and of no less consequence than your everlasting happiness; so that, it may justly challenge your careful regard. It is not to upbraid or reproach, much less to triumph and insult over your misconduct. No; it is pure benevolence,—it is disinterested good-will which prompts me to write; so that, I hope, I will not raise your resentment. However, be the issue what it will, I cannot bear to see you walk in the paths that lead to death, without warning you of your danger,—without sounding in your ears the awful admonition, ‘Return and live;—for why will you die?’ I beg of you to consider, whether you do not, in some measure, resemble those accursed children of Eli, whom, though they were famous in their generation, and men of renown, yet, vengeance suffered not to live. For my part, I may safely use the expostulation of the old priest,—‘Why do you such things? For I hear of your evil dealings by all this people; nay, my brother, for it is no good report I hear; you make the Lord’s people to transgress.’

“I have long observed and pitied you: and a most melancholy spectacle, I lately beheld, made me resolve to caution you, lest you also come into the same condemnation.

“I was, not long since, called to visit a poor gentleman, erewhile of the most robust body and gayest temper I ever knew; but, when I visited him, oh! how was the glory departed from him! I found him no more that sprightly and vivacious son of joy which he used to be; but languishing, pining away, and withering under the chastising hand of God: his limbs feeble and trembling; his countenance forlorn and ghastly; and the little breath he had left sobbed out in sorrowful sighs; his body hastening apace to the dust, to lodge in the silent grave, the land of darkness and desolation; his soul just going to God who gave it, preparing itself to wing its way to its long home, to enter upon an unchangeable and eternal state. When I was come up into his chamber, and had seated myself on his bed, he first cast a most wishful look upon me, and then began, as well as he was able, to speak. ‘Oh! that I had been wise, that I had known this, that I had considered my latter end! Ah! Mr. H⸺y, death is knocking at my doors; in a few hours more, I shall draw my last gasp, and, then, judgment, the tremendous judgment! How shall I appear, unprepared as I am, before the all-knowing and Omnipotent God? How shall I endure the day of His coming?’ When I mentioned, among other things, that strict holiness which he had formerly so lightly esteemed, he replied, with a hasty eagerness, ‘Oh! that holiness is the only thing I now long for. I have not words to tell you how highly I value it. I would gladly part with all my estate, large as it is, or a world, to obtain it. Now my benighted eyes are enlightened. I clearly discern the things that are excellent. What is there in the place whither I am going but God? Or what is there to be desired on earth but religion?’ But, if this God should restore you to health, said I, think you that you would alter your former course? ‘I call heaven and earth to witness,’ said he, ‘I would labour for holiness as I shall soon labour for life. As for riches and pleasures and the applauses of men, I account them as dross and dung; no more to my happiness than the feathers that lie on the floor. Oh! if the righteous Judge would try me once more; if He would but reprieve and spare me a little longer;—in what a spirit would I spend the remainder of my days! I would know no other business, aim at no other end, than perfecting myself in holiness. Whatever contributed to that,—every means of grace,—every opportunity of spiritual improvement,—should be dearer to me than thousands of gold and silver. But alas! why do I amuse myself with fond imaginations? The best resolutions are now insignificant, because they are too late. The day in which I should have worked is over and gone; and I see a sad horrible night approaching, bringing with it the blackness of darkness for ever. Heretofore, (woe is me!) when God called, I refused; when He invited, I was one of them that made excuse; now, therefore, I receive the reward of my deeds. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me. I smart; I am in anguish already; and yet this is but the beginning of sorrows! It doth not yet appear what I shall be;—but sure I shall be ruined, undone, and destroyed with an everlasting destruction.’

“This sad scene I saw with my eyes; these words, and many more equally affecting, I heard with my ears; and soon after attended the unhappy gentleman to his tomb. The poor breathless skeleton spoke in such an accent, and with so much earnestness, that I could not easily forget him or his words; and, as I was musing upon this sorrowful subject, I remembered Mr. Nash;—I remembered you, sir;—for I discerned too near an agreement and correspondence between the deceased and yourself. They, are alike, said I, in their ways; and what shall hinder them from being alike in their end? The course of their actions was equally full of sin and folly; and why should not the period of them be equally full of horror and distress? I am grievously afraid for the survivor, least, as he lives the life, so he should die the death of this wretched man, and his latter end should be like his.

“For this cause, therefore, I take my pen, to advise,—to admonish,—nay, to request of you to repent while you have opportunity, if happily you may find grace and forgiveness. Yet a moment, and you may die: yet a little while, and you must die; and will you go down with infamy and despair to the grave, rather than depart in peace, and with hopes full of immortality?

“But I must tell you plainly, sir, with the utmost freedom, that, your present behaviour is not the way to reconcile yourself to God. You are so far from making atonement to offended justice, that you are aggravating the former account, and heaping up an increase of wrath against the day of wrath. For what say the Scriptures? Those books which, at the consummation of all things, the Ancient of days shall open, and judge you by every jot and tittle therein—what say these sacred volumes? Why, they testify and declare to every soul of man, ‘That, whosoever liveth in pleasure is dead while he liveth’; so that, so long as you roll on in a continued circle of sensual delights and vain entertainments, you are dead to all the purposes of piety and virtue; you are odious to God, as a corrupt carcass putrifying in the church-yard; you are as far from doing your duty, or working out your salvation, or restoring yourself to the divine favour, as a heap of dry bones nailed up in a coffin is from vigour and activity.

“Think, sir, I conjure you, think upon this, if you have any inclination to escape the fire that never will be quenched. Would you be rescued from the fury and fierce anger of Almighty God? Would you be delivered from weeping, and wailing, and incessant gnashing of teeth? Sure you would! Then, I exhort you as a friend; I beseech you as a brother; I charge you as a messenger from the great God, in His own most solemn words: ‘Cast away from you your transgressions; make you a new heart and a new spirit; so iniquity shall not be your ruin.’

“Perhaps you may be disposed to contemn this and its serious import, or to recommend it to your companions as a fit subject for raillery; but, let me tell you beforehand, that for this, as well as for other things, God will bring you into judgment. He sees me now write. He will observe you while you read. He notes down my words in His book. He will note down your consequent procedure. So that, not upon me, but, upon your own self, will the neglecting or despising of my sayings turn. ‘If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself; if thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it.’

“Be not concerned, sir, to know my name. It is enough that you will know this hereafter. Tarry but a little, till the Lord, even the most mighty God, shall call the heaven from above, and the earth, that He may judge His people, and then you will see me face to face. There shall I be ready, at the dread tribunal, to joy and rejoice with you, if you regard my admonitions, and live; or to be—what God prevent—by not inclining your heart to receive this friendly admonition.”

“At Mr. Thomas Hervey’s, in Basinghall Street, London, May 23, 1745.

“Dear Mr. ⸺,—You will be surprised when you observe the place from whence this letter is dated. Prevailed on by the kind solicitations of my friends, I have taken a trip to London, where I propose to continue about a fortnight.

“Your last two favours I received together. I thank you for the specimen of types. I hope better paper is intended to be used, than that whereon the types were printed; which I think coarse and slovenly. I am most inclined to send abroad the pieces in a matrimonial state: I mean, not in separate pamphlets, but united in a volume. They seem to be a contrast to each other, and may, perhaps, mutually recommend one another. Probably the ‘Meditations among the Tombs’ may carry too doleful an aspect; and, if not enlivened a little with the brighter scenes of ‘The Garden,’ may terrify the reader, and create disgust. I shall take an opportunity of talking with Mr. Richardson on this affair; and shall, if he takes the trouble of perusing it, put one of the letters into his hands: though it must be the mourning piece, because I have no copy of the gayer essay, but what is in shorthand. What you hint at, with regard to the largeness of the character, that old and enfeebled eyes may be able to read it, is perfectly right. I shall desire that this suggestion may be observed.

“I hope your ingenious friend has examined the piece, with a kind severity, by this time. It will be a favour if you will give me a line while I abide in the city; and a greater, if you will inform me of Mr. S—h—m’s opinion, and transmit me some of his remarks. Before I sent the ‘Reflections’ to Bath, Mr. Payne, brother to our old acquaintance, gave them a reading. He frankly acquainted me, in a letter, both with what he liked, and what he disapproved of. He advised me to expunge the long note relating to Mr. Pope’s opinion.[166] He is a Fellow of King’s College, and a very ingenious scholar. Upon the whole, he declared himself pleased with the performance, and marked out several places that struck his fancy in a peculiar manner.

“My heart’s desire and prayer to God is, that it may be, in some degree, serviceable to the interests of religion: which end, of all others most desirable and important, if it may be so happy as to promote, I shall rejoice in the publication. Otherwise, may Providence, which discerns the remotest consequences of every transaction, not give it an imprimatur.

“I have no motto for the thoughts among the tombs.[167] Does any fine passage, from the ancients or moderns, proper to introduce and give credit to such serious remarks, occur to your mind?

“Now, perhaps, you will expect to hear how I proceed in London. I intend, sir, to see and hear as much as I possibly can, in the space allotted for my stay. I have thoughts of going, incog., to the places of teaching and worship, frequented by persons of every denomination. ‘Try all things,’ is the Apostle’s permission; ‘Hold fast that which is good,’ is his direction. I shall indulge myself in the one; may I be enabled to put in practice the other!

“I believe it will be my most prudent course not to visit a certain lady. If I debar myself that pleasure, it will be entirely owing to an apprehension of wounding my own ease and tranquility. Who knows what impressions may be made by an amiable person and engaging behaviour, heightened by the exercise of good sense, and completed by an apparent regard for religion and eternity? Indeed, sir, I must own, my heart is not proof against such charms.

“Since I wrote the preceding, I have heard our old acquaintance.[168] He preached upon, ‘The gift of the Holy Ghost:’ showed what fruits it produced in the heart and life; then applied the whole by way of examination, in a searching and very forcible manner. May I never forget what was uttered this night! Might I but experience it, I should bless the day in which I was born. I have room to add no more, than my service to Mrs. ⸺; and that the favour must be speedy, if you intend me a letter while in London.

“Yours affectionately,

“J. Hervey.”[169]

“Weston-Favel, Nov. 16, 1745.

“Sir,—It is not easy to express the satisfaction, I received from your agreeable and useful conversation this afternoon. I rejoice to find that there are gentlemen of genius, learning, and politeness, who dare profess a supreme value for the Scriptures, and are not ashamed of the cross of Christ.

“This brings the dedication and the preface, which are to introduce a little essay, entitled, ‘Meditations among the Tombs,’ and ‘Reflections on a Flower Garden,’ in two letters to a lady. I hope, sir, in consequence of your kind promise, you will please to peruse them with the file in your hand. The severity of the critic, and the kindness of the friend, in this case, will be inseparable. The evangelical strain, I believe, must be preserved; because, otherwise, the introductory thoughts will not harmonize with the subsequent, the porch will be unsuitable to the building. But, if you perceive any meanness of expression, any quaintness of sentiment, or any other impropriety and inelegance, I shall acknowledge it as a very singular favour, if you will be so good as to discover and correct such blemishes.

“I hope, sir, my end in venturing to publish is a hearty desire to serve, in some little degree, the interests of Christianity, by endeavouring to set some of its most important truths in a light that may both entertain and edify. As I profess this view, I am certain, your affectionate regard for the most excellent religion imaginable, will incline you to be concerned for the issue of such an attempt; and, therefore, to contribute to its success, both by bestowing your animadversions upon these small parts, and by speaking of the whole (when it shall come abroad) with all that candour which is natural to the Christian, and will be so greatly needed by this new adventurer in letters, who is, etc.,

“J. Hervey.”

“The first of these occasional Meditations begs leave to remind my readers of their latter end; and would invite them to set, not their houses only, but, which is inexpressibly more needful, their souls in order; that they may be able, through all the intermediate stages, to look forward upon their approaching exit, without any anxious apprehension.

“The other attempts to sketch out some little traces of the All-sufficiency of our Redeemer, for the grand and gracious purposes of our everlasting salvation; that a sense of His unutterable dignity and infinite perfections may incite us to regard Him with sentiments of the most profound veneration, to long for an assured interest in His merits, and to trust in His powerful mediation, with an affiance not to be shaken by any temptation, not to be shared with any performances of our own.”

“This,” said he, “I have devoted to God. I will, on no account, apply it to any worldly uses. I write, not for profit, nor fame, but, to serve the cause of God; and as He hath blessed my attempt, I think myself bound to relieve the distresses of my fellow-creatures with the profits that come from this quarter.”

“Weston-Favel, Feb. 2, 1746.

“Dear Mr. W⸺,—Your spouse informed me, you were concerned, that the little money, I left in your hands, had not been remitted to me; but, dear sir, I am glad on this account. If it may be the means of cherishing one of the least of our Redeemer’s brethren, I rejoice that it has not been returned.

“You did right in delivering a guinea to Mrs. Williams, for the benefit of poor widow Cole. If Molly Lake, or Betty Peak, are in want, by all means, let them be relieved. Tell them, I present them each with a crown; and bid them think, if a poor mortal, a wretched sinner, is so ready to help them, according to his ability, how much more ready is the infinitely compassionate Saviour of the world to pity all their miseries, and comfort them in all their troubles. Were it in my power, I would willingly do more for them; but let them remember that the power of the blessed Jesus knows no limits. Oh, it is impossible to imagine how rich our Divine Master is in goodness, and how mighty in power!”[170]

“Weston-Favel, Feb. 9, 1746.

“Thanks to you, dear sir, for your kind wishes. Blessed be the Divine Providence! I am now able to inform you, that what you wished is accomplished. I have had one of the most agreeable losses I ever met with. I have lost my indisposition, and am, in a manner, quite well.

“I congratulate you, sir, and my country, on the good news received from the north.

“How do you like Stackhouse’s History of the Bible? I am sure, he has one advantage superior to all the historians of the world, namely, that, the facts, which he relates, are more venerable for their antiquity, more admirable for their grandeur, and more important on account of their universal usefulness. The Scriptures are finely calculated to furnish the most exquisite entertainment to the imagination, from those three principal sources, mentioned by Mr. Addison,—the great, the beautiful, and the new.”

“Weston, June 28, 1746.

“Dear Mr. Thompson,—Your last gave me hopes of the speedy receipt of another letter; in pleasing expectation of which, I have waited thus long. But now my pen refuses to be restrained, and, therefore, writes to the friend whom its master honours, and loves from his very soul.

“I presume, this will find you at Brynsworthy, that agreeable seat, where, three years ago, I passed several delightful weeks. Oh! when shall I spend my hours of conversation so much to my improvement!

“I very much want to know something relating to the condition and conduct of my old acquaintance. When were you at the Abbey?[171] When did you favour Bideford with your company? How goes on the good cause among the people lately committed to my care? How are your lectures prospered at your own and Mr. B⸺’s Churches?[172] Have you heard of Mr. S⸺? Where is he settled, and how does he proceed? Is Mr. W⸺’s abode in your parts? I hope, his manner of life answers your expectations of him; and, I hope, your acts of kindness and words of exhortation have not been in vain. Have you received any tidings of, or from, Mr. Walker?

“One more question permit me to ask, and I have done with my interrogatories. Did not a certain Cornish clergyman take a journey to Exeter some time ago, on a very particular occasion? Was he not summoned to appear before the bishop of the diocese, in order to give an account of his behaviour and zeal?

“If you have any knowledge of this remarkable affair, (and I believe it will be impossible to apply to one who knows it more perfectly), be pleased to favour me with a narrative of its occasion, its circumstances, and its issue. I imagine an answer to this one query, will furnish materials for a very long letter.[173]

“We had this week a very heavy storm of rain, attended with a surprising darkness, awful thunders, and fierce lightnings. At a celebrated fair, that was held upon a spacious common in this neighbourhood, several persons were struck down with the flashes, and one poor man, with two horses, killed upon the spot.

“I congratulate you, dear sir, and my country in general, on the late most important and happy victory obtained by the gallant Duke of Cumberland. We can never be sufficiently thankful to the God of the armies of Israel for turning the scale of war in our favour at that ever-memorable event.[174]

“My little piece, entitled ‘Meditations among the Tombs’ and ‘Reflections on a Flower Garden,’ has been published a considerable time.[175] I have taken the liberty to dedicate it to Miss R. Thompson; and, was I near, or had I the opportunity of conveyance, would desire Miss C. Thompson to accept one of the books. The thing, I am told, finds acceptance with the public, greater indeed than I durst expect. Mr. Richardson, the author of ‘Pamela,’ is my printer. Seven hundred and fifty copies are struck off; the printer and writer are joint adventurers with regard to pecuniary advantages, if any such should accrue from the sale. If, at some leisure moment, you should happen to cast a glance upon the lines, mark, dear sir, their blemishes, correct their improprieties, and improve them into a greater neatness, in case a second edition should be demanded. O may they tend, in some small degree, to awaken my readers into a serious concern for their eternal state, and lead their minds unto the Rock of ages, the Hope of all the ends of the earth, Jesus Christ! May they, under the propitious influence of grace, answer this desirable end; or else let them share the fate of literary rubbish, and be swept away into utter oblivion!

“Be pleased to make my most respectful and affectionate compliments acceptable to Mrs. Thompson. I wish Miss Thompson may be a living picture of that amiable and virtuous woman, whose price is above rubies. If your trusty friend, Mr. B (ennet) is with you, pray tell him I love him, because he loves Mr. Thompson.

“Should you inquire after my state, you will find a description of it, Judges viii. 4—‘Faint, yet pursuing.’ Cease not, dear sir, to pray, that, the hands which hang down may be lifted up, and the feeble knees strengthened, to walk in the way everlasting.

“In your last, you inquired after a very holy woman, whose name is Mary. I have asked Dr. Doddridge about her. He declined giving me a particular account of her intercourse with heaven, and only said, that, she was a very sincere and devout soul, but somewhat addicted to chimerical and extravagant imaginations. The Doctor desired me to transmit his cordial good wishes and service to yourself and spouse.

“Let it not be long before dear Mr. Thompson, with a letter, delights, animates, and comforts, his most obliged and affectionate friend,

“James Hervey.”

“Weston-Favel, Nov. 1, 1746.

“Dear Sir,—This morning, I received your favour. The day lowers, and threatens rain, which debars me from the pleasure of paying you my thanks in person.

“Mr. Huygens[176] I hope to read very carefully; but, I believe, it will be proper to take heed of adopting into my plans any notions that are difficult and abstruse. I would have everything so perspicuous, that, the dimmest understanding may apprehend my meaning; so obvious, that, he who runs may read. Let me lay before you a little sketch of my design, with a request, that, you would alter the general order, and make retrenchments, or additions of particular incidents, as you shall think most expedient.

“A contemplative walk. The approach of evening, and gradual extinction of light. The advantages of solitude. The stillness of the universe. The coolness of the atmosphere. Darkness, and its usefulness to mankind. Sleep, and its beneficial effects. Dreams, and their extravagance. A glow-worm glimmering. An owl shrieking. A nightingale singing. The very different circumstances of mankind; some revelling and carousing; some agonizing and dying; A knell sounding; The notion of ghosts walking; The moon, with its various appearances, and serviceableness to our globe;—the heavenly bodies—their number, size, courses, distances,—display many of the glorious attributes of their Creator; some of which are specified. They teach nothing of redemption; this, the peculiar prerogative of revelation—Christ, the day-star from on high, that points out, and makes clear the way of salvation.

“These are some of the subjects which, I imagined, might be admitted into the composition of a Night-piece. If others occur to your mind more pleasing, or more striking, be pleased to suggest them.

“I am glad to find, by the quotation from Mr. Locke, that your esteem and veneration for the Scriptures are on the increasing hand. May we be persuaded, even more and more, of the incomparable excellency of those sacred volumes! This one consideration, that they are the Book of God, is a higher recommendation of them, than could be displayed in ten thousand panegyric orations. For my part, I purpose to addict myself, with more incessant assiduity, to this delightful and Divine study. Away, my Homer! I have no more need of being entertained by you, since Job and the prophets furnish me with images much more magnificent, and lessons infinitely more important. Away, my Horace! Nor shall I suffer any loss by your absence, while the sweet singer of Israel tunes his lyre, and charms me with the finest flights of fancy, and inspirits me with the noblest strains of devotion. And even my prime favourite, my Virgil, may withdraw; since, in Isaiah, I enjoy all his majesty of sentiment, all his correctness of judgment, all his beautiful propriety of diction, and⸺But I must have done. The messenger waits; he can stay no longer, than barely to allow me leisure to subscribe myself, dear sir, etc.,

“J. Hervey.”

“Weston-Favel, November 22, 1746.

“Dear Sir,—I heartily applaud the zeal you show for the spiritual welfare of the patients. The infirmary would be an inestimable blessing, if it might be productive of a reformation in the persons whom it admits and discharges. As distressed objects will, in all probability, resort to it from all parts of the county, a change wrought in their hearts, and a renewal begun in their lives, might be a happy means of diffusing religion far and near. I hope the clergy, concerned in the management, will concur in the prosecution of so desirable an end. I wish some proper scheme was contrived for this, in which I might bear some little part, without giving umbrage to my brethren, or alarming their jealousy. I have thought of offering to give the patients a kind of lecture or exhortation once a week; but, sometimes doubtful whether such a proposal would meet with acceptance, and sometimes checked by the infirmities of my constitution, I have hitherto neglected to mention the affair. However, I now venture to submit it to your consideration. To this, or any other more advisable method, I should very readily contribute the best of my assistance.”

“Weston-Favel, February, 1747.

“Dear Sir,—I have heard nothing from my printer during all this interval. What can be the reason of his long silence and great negligence I cannot imagine. But, this week, it occurred to my mind, that, if he delays the second edition at this rate, I may possibly be able to prepare the third letter[177] to accompany it. Accordingly, I have postponed other business, and applied myself wholly to this work. I have transcribed some part of the intended piece, and sent it for your perusal. Pray be so good as to examine it narrowly, and favour me with your remarks and improvements, on a separate paper. There are, I fear, besides more material faults, several mistakes in the copy, owing to my want of leisure to review it. I suppose the remainder of my design, when completed, will consist of about the same number of pages.

“If I live till Monday, I propose to visit my patient at the infirmary; and, if company happens to be agreeable, will take the pleasure of spending an hour with a certain valuable and very much esteemed friend at Northampton. If you are not able to guess the person I mean, you shall soon be informed by,

Dear sir, yours, etc.,

“J. Hervey.”

“Weston-Favel, April 12, 1747.

“Dear Sir,—I have folded down a corner of the leaf at the place where your perusal left off. There is a note or two subjoined to the preceding pages, which I wish you would please to examine. My humble service to Dr. ⸺. I desire He will write his remarks and corrections on a separate paper. What think you of the following lines for a motto?—

“Your plan for forming a Christian society,[179] and regulating our interviews, I greatly approve. It seems to me to be complete. I heartily wish to have it carried into execution, and hope it will be productive of considerable comfort and advantage to the members; and not to them only, but, by rendering them more useful in their respective stations, to many others.

“I hope you have perused the remainder of the manuscript: and cannot but wish you would give the whole a second reading. The unknown importance of what we print, inclines me to urge this request. Who can tell how long it may continue, and into what hands it may come? I almost tremble at such a thought, lest I should write unadvisedly with my pen; and injure, instead of serve, the best of causes.

“I shall soon create you a second task, by transmitting for your correction, twenty folio pages of the Remarks on the Stars, and Serious Improvements,

“Yours, etc.,

“J. Hervey.”

“June 2, 1747.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—My father is wonderfully recovered. Had he lived in the times of superstition, for ought I know, his uncommon disorder might have been ascribed to witchcraft, and his speedy recovery passed current for a miracle. We thought him to be on the very brink of death; but now he lives, and regains his strength daily. Last Sunday, he read prayers in his church; and intends next Sunday to fill the pulpit.

“I am just now going to our visitation, held at Northampton. I shall appear as a stranger in our Jerusalem! knowing few, and known by fewer. Methinks, there is something august and venerable in a meeting of the clergy; especially if one looks upon them as so many agents for the invisible God, and envoys from the court of heaven. I hope to be put in mind of that awful day, when the Lord Jesus Christ, that great Shepherd of the sheep, and Bishop of souls, will make His entrance in the clouds of heaven.” Etc.

“J. Hervey.”

“Weston-Favel, June 27, 1747.

“My dear Friend,—Was it you, dear sir, or I, that, when a certain passage in Scripture happened to be mentioned, treated it, not indeed with contemptuous disdain, but, with too ludicrous an air? descanted on it, in a sportive and frolicsome manner, in order to create a little pleasantry? If I was the person that indulged this improper levity, I beseech you to rebuke me, and severely too. Though my design might be innocent, my conduct was apparently wrong. That infinitely precious and important book, should be always held in the highest veneration. Whatever the Divine Spirit vouchsafes to dictate, should be thought and spoke of by mortals, with gratitude, dutifulness, and awe. It is the character of a religious man, that, he trembles at God’s Word; and it is said of the great Jehovah, that, He has magnified His name and His Word above all things.

“Who was it, dear sir, that lent to our valuable friend, that vile book, ‘Le Sopha,’ and yet wrote by Crebillon,[180] with an enchanting spirit of elegance, which must render the mischief palatable, and the bane even delicious? I wonder, that, your kind and benevolent heart could recommend arsenic for a regale. It puts me in mind of the empoisoned shirt presented to Hercules. I am sure, you did not think on it, or else you would no more have transmitted such a pestilent treatise to the perusal of a friend, than you would transmit to him a packet of goods from a country depopulated by the plague. If that polluting French book still remains in your study, let me beg of you to make it perform quarantine in the flames.

“Dear sir, bestow a thought on these things. If the remonstrances are wrong, I willingly retract them; if right, you will not pronounce me impertinent. Love and friendship dictate what I write; and the only end I have in view, is the holiness, the usefulness, the happiness, the final salvation of my much esteemed friend.”

“July 6, 1747.

“I have just been writing to my good friend, Mr. Hervey; whose manuscript on The Stars, I have reviewed with pleasure. I hope it will be means of raising the hearts of many above the stars; and of fixing them on Him, who is, so much more than anything material, ‘The bright and morning Star.’ I see, in Mr. Hervey, an example of diligence, humility, candour, and universal goodness, which I am sure ought to keep me humble, and, I hope, in some measure, does so.”[181]

“Weston-Favel, August 8, 1747.

“Dearest Mr. ⸺,—”I ought to take shame to myself, for suffering so kind a letter, received from so valuable a friend, to remain so long unanswered. Upon no other consideration than that of my enfeebled and languishing constitution, can I excuse myself, or hope for your pardon. My health is continually upon the decline, and the springs of life are all relaxing. Medicine is baffled, and my physician, Dr. Stonehouse, who is a dear friend to his patient, and a lover of the Lord Jesus, pities, but cannot succour me. This blessing, however, together with a multitude of others, the Divine goodness vouchsafes, to gild the gloom of decaying nature, that, I am racked with no pain, and enjoy the free, undisturbed exercise of my understanding.

“I am much obliged to you for carrying my message to Stoke Abbey, with so much speed, and conveying to me, with equal despatch, a satisfactory answer. When you visit the worthy family again, be pleased to inform Mr. Orchard, that the piece is sent to the press, and, after some corrections made in the dedication, addressed to my godson.[182] It is my humble request to him, and my earnest prayer to God, that, he may regard it, not merely as a complimentary form, but as the serious and pathetic advice of his father’s intimate acquaintance, and his soul’s sincere friend; who, in all probability, will be cut off from every other opportunity of fulfilling his sacred engagements, and admonishing him of whatever a Christian ought to know and believe to his soul’s health.

“I forget whether I told you, that, the last work will be divided into two parts; will be full as large as the first two letters; and, therefore, the whole will be disposed into two small pocket volumes, on a very neat paper, with an elegant type, in duodecimo. But a convenient number of the new essays will be printed in the octavo size and character, for the satisfaction of those who purchased the former edition, and may possibly be willing to complete their book. It was a considerable time before I could think of a title for the last pieces, that suited their nature, and expressed their design. At length, I have determined to style them, ‘Contemplations on the Night,’ and ‘Contemplations on the Starry Heavens.’

“Now I apprehend myself to be so near the close of life, with eternity full in my view, perhaps, my dear friend would be glad to know my sentiments of things in this awful situation.

“I think, then, dear sir, that, we are extremely mistaken, and sustain a mighty loss in our most important interests, by reading so much, and praying so little. I think also, we fail in our duty, and thwart our comfort, by studying God’s Holy Word no more. I have, for my part, been too fond of reading everything elegant and valuable, that has been penned in our own language; and been particularly charmed with the historians, orators, and poets of antiquity. But were I to renew my studies, I would take my leave of these accomplished trifles. I would resign the delights of modern wit, amusement, and eloquence, and devote my attention to the Scriptures of truth. I would adopt the Apostles’ resolution, and give myself to prayer and to the Word.

“With regard to my public ministry, my chief aim should be, to beget in my people’s minds a deep sense of their depraved, guilty, undone, condition; and a clear believing conviction of the all-sufficiency of Christ, by His blood, His righteousness, His intercession, and His Spirit, to save them to the uttermost. I would always observe, to labour for them in my closet, as well as in the pulpit; and wrestle in secret supplication for their spiritual and eternal welfare. For, unless God take this work into His own hand, what mortal is sufficient for these things?

“My hope, my whole hope, with regard to my future and immortal state, is in the Lord Redeemer. Jesus is all my trust His merits are my staff, when I pass through the valley of the shadow of death. His merits are my anchor, when I launch into the boundless ocean of eternity.

“Though the days are come upon me, in which I have reason to say of worldly things, I have no pleasure in them; yet, I find a secret satisfaction in this consideration, that, to you and to others, I may be permitted, even when dead, to speak in my little treatises. May they, when the author is gone hence, testify, with some small degree of efficacy, concerning Jesus! May they fan the flame of love to His person, and strengthen the principle of faith in His merits! Once more, dear sir, adieu!

“J. Hervey.”

“Your last found me on the recovering hand, getting strength and spirits, though by slow degrees. Soon after I received your favour, a messenger came from London, bringing us the alarming news, that my youngest brother was extremely ill. My father’s bowels yearned, and his heart bled; but the infirmities of age, and an unwieldy constitution, hindered him from taking the journey. Upon me, therefore, the office fell. Feeble and languid as I was, there was no rejecting such a call. Accordingly, I took coach, and, in two days, arrived safe in London, where I found my poor brother (the packer) seized with a most violent fever. He was attended by two eminent physicians; but they proved vain helpers. For a considerable time, his stout constitution struggled with the disease; but, at last, was forced to yield. After attending his sick-bed for several days, I had the melancholy task of closing his dear eyes, and resigning him up to death. Oh, the uncertainty of mortal things! Who could have thought that I should survive my brother? I, sickly and enervated; he, always lively and vigorous. In flourishing circumstances, and blessed with prosperity in his business; but now removed to the dark, inactive, silent tomb! Lately married to a beautiful and blooming bride, but now a companion for creeping things!

“Scarce was I returned to Weston, but another awful Providence fetched me from home. My very worthy physician, Dr. Stonehouse, who lives and practises in Northampton, had the misfortune to lose an amiable and excellent wife. She also was snatched away in the morning of life (aged twenty-five), and dead before I so much as heard of her being disordered. At this valuable friend’s house, I was desired to abide some time, in order to assist in writing letters for him, and dispatching his necessary affairs; in comforting him concerning the deceased, and in endeavouring to improve the awakening visitation to our mutual good.[183]

“You will surely say, when you read this account, that, I have been in deaths oft: once upon the borders of it myself, and more than once a spectator of its victory over others.

“The ‘Contemplations,’ you are pleased to inquire after, are, after long delays, or a very slow procedure of the press, launched into the world. What may be their fate, I dare not conjecture.

“J. Hervey.”

“Weston-Favel, December 10, 1747.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—Pardon me if I take leave to interrupt your important studies for the good of mankind, or suspend for one moment your delightful communion with the blessed God. I cannot excuse myself without expressing my gratitude for the present, by your order, lately transmitted from your bookseller, which I shall always value, not only for its instructive contents, but, in a very peculiar manner, for the sake of the author and giver.

“To tell you, worthy doctor, that your works have long been my delight and study, the favourite pattern by which I would form my conduct and model my style, would be only to echo back, in the faintest accents, what sounds in the general voice of the nation. Among other of your edifying compositions, I have reason to thank you for your ‘Sacred Songs,’ which I have introduced into the service of my church; so that, in the solemnities of the Sabbath and in a lecture on the week-day, your muse lights up the incense of our praise, and furnishes our devotions with harmony.

“Our excellent friend, Dr. Doddridge, informs me of the infirm condition of your health; for which reason, I humbly beseech the Father of spirits, and the God of our life, to renew your strength as the eagle’s, and to recruit a lamp that has shone with distinguished lustre in His sanctuary: or, if this may not consist with the counsels of unerring wisdom, to make all your bed in your languishing, softly to untie the cords of animal existence, and enable your dislodging soul to pass triumphantly through the valley of death, leaning on your beloved Jesus, and rejoicing in the greatness of His salvation.

“You have a multitude of names to bear on your breast, and mention with your lips, when you approach the throne of grace in the beneficent exercise of intercession; but none, I am sure, has more need of such an interest in your supplications, none can more highly esteem it, or more earnestly desire it, than, dear sir, your obliged and affectionate humble servant,

“James Hervey.”[184]

“Weston, near Northampton, December 30, 1747.

“Dear Sir,—With pleasure I received, and with gratitude acknowledge, the favour of your two letters. That which bears the date of November 21, I should have answered long ago, had I not been retarded by the following reason:

“I was desirous to give a proof of my love for your person and of my reverence for your conduct, somewhat more substantial than the bare profession of my pen. My bookseller is, this week, to pay a sum of money for a second impression of my two little pieces of devotional meditation, which I lately ventured to publish, and which God has vouchsafed to honour with acceptance. This is to be received by my brother, in Miles’s Lane, at whose house, if you please to call, he will, in my name, present you with five guineas, which I beg of you to accept, as a token of that affectionate and grateful esteem which I bear to my ever-valued friend; and distribute among the indigent or distressed members of that Divine Benefactor, who died for us both.[185]

“Assure yourself, dear sir, that I can never forget that tender-hearted and generous Fellow of Lincoln, who condescended to take such compassionate notice of a poor undergraduate, whom almost everybody condemned, and for whose soul no man cared.

“If you ask, Why I have withdrawn into a corner, and lain hid in obscurity, while God seems to be shaking the heavens and the earth, and to be doing His work, His great and glorious work, of bringing sinners to Christ, as the doves to their windows? I will tell you freely. It is because of an infirm constitution, a languid flow of spirits, and an enervated state of body, which render even that small share of business, which lies within my narrow sphere, too often burdensome to me, and but very poorly performed by me.

“As for points of doubtful disputation,—those especially which relate to particular or universal redemption,—I profess myself attached neither to the one nor the other. I neither think of them myself, nor preach of them to others. If they happen to be started in conversation, I always endeavour to divert the discourse to some more edifying topic. I have often observed them to breed animosity and division, but never knew them to be productive of love and unanimity. I have further remarked, that, in forming their sentiments on these doctrines, persons may be diametrically opposite, and yet be high in the favour of God, and eminently owned by Him in their ministry. Therefore, I rest satisfied in this general and indisputable truth, that, the Judge of all the earth will assuredly do right; and whosoever cometh to Him, under the gracious character of a Saviour, will in no wise be cast out.

“I embrace—readily embrace—your offer. Let me ever be reckoned in the number of your friends, and often remembered in the earnestness of your prayers. Though it is your distinguished province, to lift your voice on high, and make the world resound with the Redeemer’s name; though my employ is to catch the pleasing accents, and echo, or rather whisper, them among a little circle of acquaintance, yet, I hope, we may be united in the same cordial affection here, and united in the same kingdom of our common Master hereafter.

“Your correspondence will be greatly esteemed, and, I hope, will prove a blessing to, dear sir, your very unworthy, but truly affectionate brother and servant,

“J. Hervey.”[186]

“If you have not so much as you wish to relieve the necessities of the poor, distribute from my stock. I am cloistered up in my chamber, and unacquainted with the distresses of my brethren. Lend me, therefore, your eyes to discover proper objects, and your hand to deal about my little fund for charity. Do not forbid me to send a guinea in my next for this purpose. Do not deny me the pleasure of becoming, through your means, an instrument of some little comfort to my afflicted fellow-creatures.

“Herewith comes the ‘Descant’ enlarged. I hope you will be able to read it, and not a little to improve it. Can you engage Dr. ⸺ to run it over? I must write it over again, so fear not to erase and blot.

“A letter from my father is enough to cast contempt on created things. It informs me, that, my poor sister is reduced very low, so low that my father cannot hear her speak. He seems to look upon her life to be in very great danger. May the Father of compassion restore her health, that she may live to the honour of her dying Master, and be a comfort to her afflicted parents!”

Weston-Favel, Aug. 18, 1748.

“My very dear Friend,—I received your letter, full of tenderness, and full of piety, last night. The very first thing I apply myself to this morning, is to acknowledge your favour, and confess my own negligence. But your affectionate heart will pity rather than blame me, when I inform you, that, a relapse into the disorder, of which I was never thoroughly cured, has brought me very low, insomuch that I am unable either to discharge the duties of life, or to answer the demands of friendship. I have not been capable of preaching for several Sundays. Pyrmont water, ass’s milk, and such kind of restoratives I try, but try in vain.

“You are not ignorant of my sentiment with regard to our Dissenting brethren. Are we not all devoted to the same supreme Lord? Do we not all rely on the merits of the same glorious Redeemer? By professing the same faith, the same doctrine which is according to godliness, we are incorporated into the same mystical body. And how strange, how unnatural it would be, if the head should be averse to the breast, or the hands inveterately prejudiced against the feet, only because the one is habited somewhat differently from the other? Though I am steady in my attachment to the Established Church, I would have a right hand of fellowship, and a heart of love, ever ready, ever open for all the upright, evangelical Dissenters.”

“July 10, 1749. Your sentiments concerning Mr. Hervey’s book are very just. It has gone through six editions. The author of it is my old friend, a most heavenly-minded creature, one of the first of the Methodists, who is contented with a small cure, and gives all that he has to the poor. He is very weak, and daily waits for his dissolution. We correspond with, though we cannot see, one another. We shall, ere long, meet in heaven.”

“Blessed be God, for causing you to write so as to suit the taste of the polite world! O that they may be won over to admire Him, who is indeed altogether lovely! O when shall we get within the veil! Thanks be to God, it cannot be long. We are both sickly. Lord, give us patience to wait till our blessed change come!”

“Your present circumstances almost distress me. I think it requires more grace heartily to say, ‘Father, Thy will be done,’ in such a situation, than to die a martyr forty times. But, my dear friend, though your body is weak and confined at home, your pen hath been active, and your works walk abroad. I hear of them from all quarters. God hath blessed, and will bless them. Let that comfort you, and, if health any way permits, pray write again. Fear not, my dear, dear man; let faith and patience hold out a little longer, and then the struggle shall be over. Yet a little while, and you shall join with that sweet singer, Dr. Watts, who, whilst on earth, dragged a crazy load along, as well as you, for many years. I am now at Ashby, with good Lady Huntingdon. Her ladyship has a great regard for you, and begs you would come and stay a week at her house. She will take great care of you.”

“Plymouth, Feb. 25, 1750.

“Reverend and dear Sir,—Your letters always fill me with sympathy. Your last I have just been reading, and in reading breathed out the ejaculation, ‘Lord, when will the days of his mourning be ended?’ Surely, you are not always thus to stick fast in the mire and clay. Look up then, my dear Mr. Hervey; you shall find grace to help in time of need.

“This is the advice I give you, I sent your hymn to good Lady Huntingdon, who has been ill, but is now, I hope, recovered. Pray write to me often. Sorrows grow less, joys grow greater, by being communicated. Load me as much as you will with all your grievances, and I will lay them before Him, who came to bear our sicknesses and heal our infirmities.”

“Portsmouth, April 28, 1750.

“My very dear Friend and Brother,—Your letter should have had an immediate answer, if the least leisure had offered when in town. But there I am continually hurried, and had scarce time to eat bread. However, our Lord gave me meat which the world knows not of, and enabled me to preach three or four times a day to great multitudes, and, I trust, with great blessings.

“Fear not your weak body. We are immortal till our work is done. Christ’s labourers must live by miracle; if not, I must not live at all; for God only knows what I daily endure. My continual vomitings almost kill me, and yet the pulpit is my cure. I speak this to encourage you. Persons whose writings are to be blessings must have some thorns in the flesh. Your disorders, like mine, I believe, are, as yet, only to humble, not to kill us. Though I long to go to heaven, yet I am apt to think we are not to die presently, but live and declare the works of the Lord—you by your pen; I by my tongue. Courage, my dear, very dear Mr. Hervey; courage! When we are weak, then are we strong.

“But to your letter. How shall we contrive to meet? I purpose being at Olney next Sunday seven-night, and in a day or two after at Northampton. I wish I could have a line from you. Your (Meditations) are now printing at Philadelphia. Why do you not sit for your picture? The Lord be with you. I love you most tenderly. I thank you ten thousand times for all favours, and am, very dear friend, yours most affectionately, and eternally, in our Lord Jesus,

“G. Whitefield.”

“Ashley, May 11, 1750.

“I preached last Lord’s-day at Olney.[189] We had two sweet seasons. A great multitude attended. On the Monday, about six miles from Northampton, I had a private interview with Dr. Stonehouse, Dr. Doddridge, Messrs. Hervey and Hartley. On the Tuesday, I preached, in the morning, to Dr. Doddridge’s family, and, in the afternoon, to about two thousand in the field. Dr. Stonehouse, Mr. Hervey, etc., attended me, and walked with me along the street; so that, I hope, the physician will now turn his back upon the world. I expounded at his house in the evening, and am, hereafter, to come to it as my own. On Tuesday, I preached twice at Kettering to several thousands. On Wednesday, I came hither, and found good Lady Huntingdon, though very weak, yet, better than I expected.”

“Weston, May 12, 1750.

“This week, we had another visit by that indefatigable preacher of the everlasting gospel, Mr. Whitefield. He delivered his message under the canopy of the skies, and in the midst of a numerous and attentive audience. Dr. Doddridge, Dr. Stonehouse, another doctor of physic, Mr. Hartley, a worthy clergyman, and myself, were on his right hand, and on his left. His text was, ‘Ye are the temples of the living God.’ He showed himself a workman that need not be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. He dealt out to saints and sinners their portion in due season. All the hearers hung on his lips, and many were visibly impressed by the power of his doctrine. I hope, I am the only one who suffered by attending. I was obliged, as soon as the sacred service was over, to lie upon the bed for a little refreshment, and took such a cold as I have not yet got rid of.

“I dined, supped, and spent the evening with Mr. Whitefield, at Northampton, in company with Dr. Doddridge, and two pious, ingenious clergymen of the Church of England. And, surely, I never spent a more delightful evening, or saw one who seemed to make nearer approaches to the felicity of heaven. A gentleman of great worth and rank in the town invited us to his house, and gave us an elegant treat; but how mean was his provision, how coarse his delicacies, compared with the fruit of my friend’s lips! They dropped as the honey-comb, and were a well of life. Surely, people do not know that amiable and exemplary man; or else, I cannot but think, instead of depreciating, they would applaud and love him. For my part, I never beheld so fair a copy of our Lord,—such a living image of the Saviour,—such exalted delight in God,—such enlarged benevolence to man,—such a steady faith in the Divine promises,—and such a fervent zeal for the Divine glory; and all this without the least moroseness of humour, or extravagances of behaviour; sweetened with the most engaging cheerfulness of temper, and regulated by all the sobriety of reason, and wisdom of Scripture; insomuch, that I cannot forbear applying the wise man’s encomium of an illustrious woman to this eminent minister of Christ, ‘Many sons have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.’”

“September 11, 1750.

“My dear Friend,—Thanks for your subscription; I have procured more of another friend. I shall soon be a poor man, here are so many necessitous objects. And who can bear to be in affluence, while so many fellow-creatures are in deplorable want?

“This night, dear Mr. Whitefield is with us, returned from his expedition, full of life, and rich with spoils,—spoils won from the kingdom of darkness, and consecrated to the Captain of our salvation.

“I have been prevailed upon to sit for my picture. If ever portrait was the shadow of a shadow, mine is such. Oh, that I may be renewed after the image of the blessed Jesus! When I awake up after His likeness, I shall be satisfied with it.”

“At my return to town, I was received, though utterly unworthy, with great joy; and our Lord has manifested forth His glory in the great congregation. I have preached in Mr. Wesley’s chapel several times; and I trust, a young lady of high rank was truly awakened about a fortnight ago, and is since gone triumphantly to heaven. Mr. Charles Wesley breakfasted and prayed with me this morning, and Mr. Hervey was so kind as to come up to be with me in my house. He is a dear man, and, I trust, will yet be spared to write much for the Redeemer’s glory. I have prevailed on him to sit for his picture, and it will be published in a short time.”[192]

“I had the pleasure of perusing your ladyship’s letter to Mr. Whitefield, and return my grateful acknowledgments for your condescension in inquiring after me. My kind patroness, Lady Chesterfield, and many honourable persons, whose names, I trust, are written in the book of life, are very desirous for your ladyship’s return to the great city. I have lately expounded, and administered the ordinance, at good Lady Gertrude Hotham’s. Her daughter is ripening fast for glory. I had but little conversation with her, for she is too weak to endure much fatigue. When speaking of God’s stupendous love, in giving His only Son for our salvation, and of our interest in the all-sufficient propitiation of His death, I quoted these portions of Scripture.—‘He came into the world to save sinners;’ ‘He poured out His soul for transgressors.’ ‘Yes,’ said Miss Hotham, who had been listening with singular attention; ‘He died, the just for the unjust; He suffered death upon the cross, that we might reign with Him in glory.’ On a subsequent visit, I found her much altered for the worse, as respected her bodily health. Mr. Whitefield had been to see her the preceding day, and has since gone to erect the joyful standard at Portsmouth. Blessed be God, she enjoyed much peace and tranquillity of mind, and a firm persuasion, that God was her reconciled Father, and the blessed Redeemer her all-sufficient portion. I expect to hear every day of her abundant entrance into the joy of her Lord. Good Lady Gertrude, and all her noble relatives and friends, are wonderfully supported in this trying affair.”

“December 20, 1750.

“My very dear Friend,—Your letter found me, after a considerable delay in its passage, where do you think? Where I never expected to go any more,—found me at London! Prevailed on by the repeated importunity of my friends, I came by easy stages to town, in order to try whether change of air may be of any service to my decayed constitution: for my worthy physician, Dr. Stonehouse, has declared that nothing which he can prescribe, is likely to administer any relief.

“You inquire about my new work, intended for the press. It is a great uncertainty whether my languid spirits and enfeebled constitution will permit me to execute my design. It is a pleasure, however, to hear that I am sometimes admitted to converse with you by my book.”

“London, January 23, 1751.

“Honoured Sir—Mr. Rivington has advertised the next edition of my books, and has fixed upon the 31st for publication. Then there will be five thousand volumes ready for sale. Oh may they be five thousand trumpets to proclaim far and near the glories of Him, who died for our sins, and rose again for our justification!

“If you inquire about my picture, Mr. Willis will be so kind as to inform you. I am quite tired of sitting to the painters.

“If mother and you think Mr. Thayer would accept a couple of gallons of rum, brandy, or shrub, I would very gladly make him a present; and, when my mother’s stock of shrub is out, she may command a fresh supply from your and her dutiful son,

“James Hervey.”

“I have entertained thoughts of returning home very soon; but, if you choose that I should stay and make trial a little longer, I should be glad to have my MSS. here. Some of them, I think, lie on the chair at the right hand of my desk. There are others, but I forget where they are laid. If my sister can find any, containing dialogues or letters between Theron, and Aspasio, I desire she will pack them up, and send them carefully by coach.”

“Should I attempt to speak roundly to Mr. ⸺, my cheeks, pale as they are, would be encrimsoned. Instead of working conviction in a brother, I should suffer disorder in myself. So tender are my spirits! As, I am sure, your ladyship must perceive, by a certain confusedness and precipitancy in my behaviour; quite contrary to that ease and serenity which every one must observe in your ladyship. I know not how it is, but I cannot, either by the exercise of my reason, or even by an advertence to God, rectify this weakness. I trouble you with this complaint, only with a view of demonstrating that nothing considerable can be expected from a person, to whom ‘the grasshopper is a burden.’”

Again,—“April 14, 1751. My health is so very precarious, and my constitution so enervated, that, I scarce ever am able, and am always unfit, to wait upon your ladyship. I have often found pleasure in visiting the poor tenants of the meanest hut, where I had an opportunity of talking on heavenly things. How much more should I be delighted, in an admission to your ladyship’s company, where I should hear the same favourite topics discoursed on, with all the refinements of politeness and superior sense! But extreme weakness, and great languor, disqualify me for the enjoyment of this satisfaction.”

Again,—“My poor heart, that is naturally fond of activity, and would fain exert itself for the blessed Redeemer’s glory,—that is peculiarly charmed with the works of creation, and knows no higher entertainment than a contemplative rural excursion,—is sometimes apt to repine at being cut off from its favourite gratifications. But I desire to check such unsubmissive emotions; and rest satisfied, that, whatever the all-gracious God ordains, is incomparably better than I could choose for myself. Let the voice of murmuring, therefore, be entirely suppressed. Let the praises of God be upon my tongue, and let all that is within me bless His holy name.”

Again,—“September 23, 1751. Though my hand is able to hold a pen, my feet are not able to carry me across the room, without some borrowed support. I have been extremely ill: hovering upon the very brink of eternity. The doctor was twice sent for, by a special messenger, from an apprehension, that, my dissolution was approaching. You will probably be desirous to know how my mind was affected, amidst such circumstances of peril and pain. I humbly bless the Divine goodness, I was under no terrifying fears with regard to death. It was desirable, rather than dreadful; the thing I longed for, rather than deprecated. You are pleased to ask, What I am going to publish? I was writing a little Treatise[193] upon some of the most important doctrines of Christianity: to be disposed partly into dialogues, partly into letters; and rendered entertaining by several descriptive pictures in nature and its ever-pleasing scenes. I have sketched out the greatest part, in a rough un-connected manner; but a considerable time will be requisite, to dispose it properly, and polish it for the nice taste of the present age. This time, whether it will please the Sovereign Disposer of all things to allow; or whether my constitution, always very inferior, but now more exceedingly enervated, will yield a sufficient supply of animal strength,—is a great uncertainty. But of this, my lady, we are absolutely certain, that, whatever is ordered, by unerring wisdom and infinite mercy, must be good,—must be best.”

“May 29, 1751.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—Give me leave to return my best thanks for your obliging letters and very valuable manuscripts: those, I mean, which you were so kind as to transmit for my use. I look upon them as a detachment of auxiliary forces, seconding and supporting a feeble attempt to oppose the enemies, and to spread the conquests, of Free Grace. I wish they had fallen into abler hands: for mine, weak, always weak by nature, are now enervated to the last degree by sickness. For several hours, I have been unable to take up my pen; and could only endeavour, by resting myself in some easy posture, to sustain a being, whose strength is become labour and sorrow.

“I now return, after a long delay, your truly pleasing and profitable letters. I have read them with singular pleasure; and, I hope, with some improvement. Many parts I perused several times; and the warm piety, garnished by an elegant fancy, made them as delightful as if they were new. I cannot pretend to the merit of doing your compositions any service; unless it be in this one circumstance, that, I have detained them from you for a considerable time; by which means, they will be, in a manner, new to your own eye: and you will be much more capable of judging maturely, concerning each sentiment, and every expression.

“One thing, in general, let me remark: That, my worthy friend’s genius is too rich; his invention quite luxuriant. He must use the pruning knife, and cut off several of the shoots. Yes, though they are perfectly beautiful, they must be sacrificed; that, the fruit may acquire the finer flavour. There is a certain prettiness in some periods, that betrays us all into an ill-judged redundancy; which, though its neatness should secure it from being tiresome, yet, weakens the force of the principal thought.

“I wish you would introduce some suitable descriptions to beautify the last letters. As they all turn upon the same subject, and have no pieces of entertaining scenery to enliven them, I fear, they will read a little flat and heavy; especially when compared with the preceding ornamented pages.

“A few alterations I have proposed, and only proposed. Admit, or reject them, as shall appear, on your own examination, most expedient. Don’t, dear sir, be hasty in publication. Compositions, that would spread far and continue long, in an age of so much refinement, should be touched and re-touched.

“I remain, dear sir, your obliged friend, and affectionate brother,

“James Hervey.”[194]

“If I mistake not, you are a subscribing member of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. Will you be so kind as to procure for me a dozen Bibles, and a dozen of the Bishop of Man on the Lord’s Supper. I give away this to communicants, because it has the Communion Service in it; and because it is more evangelical, and less exceptionable than the generality of what are called preparations for, or companions at, the Sacrament. Too many of these books, by long prayers for each day of the week, and by injudicious representations, have sometimes, I fear, the contrary effect to what is intended. I had once a design, nor have I wholly laid it aside, of extracting from “Jenks’ Office of Devotion,” the few leaves, he has there wrote so pathetically on the Sacrament, and of printing them with the Communion Service; adding suitable observations of my own, to supply Jenks’ deficiencies. I propose likewise to add what Marshall says on the subject; and insert, from the Bishop of Man, his short, yet striking meditations on some well-chosen texts of Scripture? What says my fidus Achates to this? Give it a place in your thoughts; and, however we may determine on this, let us determine to cleave more closely to the Lord, and wait upon our God continually.”

“Bristol, March 17, 1751.

“My very dear Friend,—This comes with a summons from good Lady Huntingdon, for you to appear in Bristol, and abide for a month or two at my brother’s house. You must not refuse. The God, who has carried that elect Lady through such bad roads from Ashby hither, will take care of you, and, I am persuaded, you will not repent your journey. Her Ladyship made the motion to me, and intends writing herself. Blessed be God! she is much better, and I trust will do well. She will have nobody to give her the Sacrament unless you come. I hope this will find you at the Tabernacle House. I ventured, the other day, to put out a guinea to interest for you. It was to release an excellent Christian, who, by living very hard, and working near twenty hours out of four-and-twenty, had brought himself very low. He has a wife and four children, and was above two guineas in debt. I gave one for myself and one for you. We shall have good interest for our money in another world.”

“Exeter, April 11, 1751.

“My very dear Mr. Hervey,—I was pleased last night to find, by my wife’s letters, that, your sister was delivered, and, more so, because my wife wrote as though you were again under my roof. This I count a great honour, and such a privilege, that, I wish to have the favour conferred upon me as long as I live. These my hands (could they work, and was there occasion for it) should readily minister to your necessities. If my wife should come down to Bristol, pray let not my dear Mr. Hervey move. If Molly stays in London, she will take care of you; if not, Polly and Mr. D⸺ will gladly wait upon you. I have preached about forty times since I left London, and have been enabled several times to ride forty miles in a day. I find, that, this sensibly refreshes me. I wish you could say so too: your Bideford friends would then see you. They hold on their way, and long to have a line from you. I hope Jesus gives you strength to proceed in your book. It is inquired much after. The Lord be with you, and bless your pen, and your heart!”

“This leaves your family in good health, and me, whom you appoint steward, like Gideon’s soldiers,—faint, but pursuing; faint with bodily languors, but following after that amiable, adorable God, whose loving-kindness is better than life. We go on comfortably, and want for nothing, but your company. Mr. Cruttenden says, I live like a king, and dine every day in state. I tell him, No, I am nothing more than lord high-steward of your majesty’s household; but, since he will have it that I am a monarch, I this day began to act in character, and commanded and charged our trusty and well-beloved Robert Cruttenden, Esq., not to be awanting in his attendance on our royal person. I hope my friend’s jest is a good omen. I hope we shall be kings to our God, and reign over the rebels within, and tread the world under our feet, and sit in heavenly places with our exalted and royal Head, Christ Jesus.”

“February 1, 1752.

“My very dear Friend,—I long to write to you, and inform you, that, I love you in the bowels of Jesus Christ. This leaves unworthy me, endeavouring to do something for Him on this side the water. Glory be to His great name! He causes His work to prosper in my worthless hands. Follow me with your prayers; and who knows but we may meet once more on this side heaven. I find our dear Mr. Hervey is to be detained longer from thence. I think he will have to bury many stronger men. I wish Lisbon may be blessed to Dr. Doddridge. I hope you write to Lady Huntingdon, and see her frequently. I was rejoiced to hear, from my dear yoke-fellow, that, her Ladyship was bravely: this was joy indeed. It is a new year. God quicken my tardy pace, and help me to do much work in a little time! This is my highest ambition.”

“I bless God,” said he, “I want for nothing;—nothing, unless it be a heart more deeply and devoutly affected with His most undeserved goodness. My brother, also, at whose house I live, is in a course of business, flourishing and prosperous, as can be wished. I am one with the Methodists in my heart; though hampered and withheld from acting, by a languishing constitution.”

“Miles’s Lane, February 19, 1752.

“On Sunday last, in the afternoon, we were greatly alarmed. A fire broke out in a Sugar-baker’s work-house, to which a part of my brother’s dwelling-house joins. We were all confusion and consternation; almost smothered with smoke; and crowded by the mob. Three engines, playing from various parts of our house, and several others, pouring in water from other quarters, by the blessing of God, kept under the raging element; and, in a few hours, extinguished it. It put me in mind of that tremendous day, when ‘the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements melt with fervent heat, and the earth with all the works therein be burnt up.’”[196]

“I am obliged to you for the favour done me by your letter, and for the honour done me by your verses, to be engraved under my mezzotinto picture. I should have acknowledged both these obligations sooner, if my print-seller had not been dilatory in publishing the picture, which is now transmitted to Dr. Stonehouse, and desires your acceptance. I cannot forbear thinking, that, what is called honour, is a little capricious and whimsical. I, for my part, had taken my final leave of her; expected none of her favours; and was become familiarly acquainted with contempt. How is it then, that, she singles out a person, whose name has long been struck out of her list; and bestows her caresses upon a mean creature, who has been used to sit on the dung-hill? O! that it may be for the glory of Christ’s grace, Christ’s wisdom, Christ’s power! May I serve to the Sun of Righteousness, as a cloud is subservient in the firmament; which, though all-gloomy in itself, exhibits a rainbow; and, thereby, shows the world what beautiful colours are combined in that magnificent luminary.

“You are pleased to inquire after my little work. Dear Sir, add, to your kind inquiries, a prayer to God, that, it may be executed under the anointings of His Spirit, and appear (if it ever appears) under the influence of His blessing. My late sickness laid an absolute embargo upon it, for a considerable time; and has so shattered my feeble constitution, that, I proceed like a vessel which has lost its rigging, and is full of leaks.”

“Miles’s Lane, March 24, 1752.

“Mr. Wesley’s last piece I have not read through. I can’t say, I am fond of that controversy. The doctrine of the perseverance of Christ’s servants, Christ’s children, Christ’s spouse, and Christ’s members, I am thoroughly persuaded of. Predestination and reprobation I think of with fear and trembling. And, if I should attempt to study them, I would study them on my knees.”

“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done, is that which shall be done; and there is no new thing under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes i. 9.)

“1732, May 19. I am upon the point to remove into Northamptonshire. It has pleased God to take my honoured father to Himself; so that, I am obliged to depart from my present situation, and to take the living of Weston.[200] O! that I had strength of constitution, to watch over a flock, and feed them with the milk of the word! But the will of the Lord is best. He employs whom He will employ; and whom He will, He lays aside. Wise and righteous are all His ways. ’Tis very probable, I shall never have the pleasure of seeing your ladyship again, on this side the everlasting habitations. My enfeebled state renders me like an aged tree, which must continue where it is fixed: to transplant it, or to remove it, is to kill it.”

“May 23. I am just arrived at Weston, after a pleasant journey, in an easy coach, and cool weather. I am much fatigued, though we allowed two days for about seventy miles. Thanks are due to your ladyship for making my Letter[201] acceptable to others, by approving it yourself, and honouring it with your recommendation. I humbly bless God, if He pleases to give it favour in the eyes of others; and should think it the highest privilege, if He would vouchsafe to render it at all serviceable to their best interests; especially to such a distinguished and illustrious personage as the Princess of W⸺. I assure you, my lady, I have not the least aversion to print any production of mine, in case better judges should think it might tend to maintain the honour of the Bible, or endear that inestimable book to mankind. All I fear is, lest acute but irreligious minds should discover some weak sentiment; should find some flaw in the argument; and take occasion to wound the Redeemer, and vilify His truths, through my inadvertence. Be so good, my lady, as to make my very respectful compliments acceptable to Dr. Hales,[202] and inform him of my suspicions. If he would please to revise the little essay, and should think the ‘Remarks’ will stand the test of a rigorous examination, my scruples would be very much abated. I believe, I durst undertake to vindicate all the observations, that are of a critical nature, with regard to the original language, or of an historic nature with regard to fact. Whether I offend against the rules of polite and genteel demeanour, your ladyship is the best judge. If your ladyship, or the Dr., should persist in your opinion, I wish you would be so good as to get the paper transcribed (no matter how close it is written) and transmitted to me in a frank; for I have no copy of it, only in some incoherent minutes in shorthand.

“I know not what the Lord will do with me, or how I shall proceed. My strength is so worn down, and my constitution so irreparably decayed, that it will be absolutely impossible for me to discharge my ministerial duty.”

“June 13. Weston is near Northampton; about two miles from the town; pleasantly situated on an agreeable eminence. My house is quite retired; so that we hear none of the tumultuous din of the world, and see nothing but the wonderful and charming works of the Creator. O! that I may be enabled to improve this advantageous solitude! I did, on the day your ladyship mentions, ascend the pulpit; and speak, for the space of half an hour, to my people. But with so much weakness! O! ’tis well that the eternal God does not want strength of lungs, or delicacy of elocution; but can do His great work of converting souls by the weakest, meanest instruments. If it was not so, I must absolutely despair of being successful in my labour, or serviceable in my office. I opened my commission to my new parishioners, from those words: ‘Preach the gospel to every creature’; and gave them to understand, that, the end of my preaching amongst them, the design of my conversation with them, and the principal aim of my whole life would be, to bring them acquainted with the truth, and assist them in attaining the great salvation.”

“July 3. Advised by my friends, importuned by my relations, and swayed by a concern for the circumstances of a mother and sister who live with me, I have been prevailed on to take a second benefice.[203] This obliges me to set out for Cambridge without delay, in order to be created Master of Arts. From thence, I proceed to London, to get a dispensation from the Archbishop, and the seals from the Lord Chancellor. On Wednesday night, I hope to be in town; and, if I can get my business despatched by Saturday or Monday at the farthest, I may return soon enough to meet our Diocesan on his visitation at Northampton; receive institution there; and save myself the fatigue and expense of a journey to Peterborough. I was honoured with your ladyship’s letter, just as I returned from visiting my people at Collingtree: the parish which I served, when I lived with my father, and of which I am going to be rector. It would have pleased you to have observed how glad the honest folks were to see their old curate. And why were they glad? For no other reason, that I can conceive, but because I used to converse with them in private, just as I spoke to them from the pulpit; and endeavoured, at every interview, to set forward their eternal salvation. This, I find, is the grand secret, to win the affections of a flock. And in this, as in every other part of true Christianity, our interest and our duty are connected.”

“July 11. I think your ladyship’s objection was very just and weighty. I fancy it would be most advisable to send the little piece” (his Remarks on Bolingbroke) “abroad under my own name; as the acceptance, which my other Essays have found from the public, may promote the spread of this. And, I apprehend, my bookseller would give me something for the copy; which, at this juncture, would scarcely be consistent with prudence to neglect. The expense of taking my two livings is very great. It will cost me, I am told, six score pounds; and though, I believe, I have money enough in the bank, produced by my selling the property of my ‘Meditations,’ yet such a succour would be welcome and serviceable. Will your ladyship lend your name, either at full length or in initial letters, to dignify and recommend the performance? I humbly submit this proposal to your ladyship’s determination: and shall be obliged, if you allow it; and shall acquiesce, if you reject it.”

“August 2. Very early on Wednesday morning, I set out for Northampton, in a new machine, called The Berlin; which holds four passengers, is drawn by a pair of horses, and driven in the manner of a post-chaise. On this side Newport, we came up with a stage-coach, and made an attempt to pass it. This the coachman perceiving, mended his pace; which provoked the driver of the Berlin to do the same, till they both lashed their horses into a full career; and were more like running a race, than conveying passengers. We very narrowly escaped falling foul on each other’s wheels. I called out to the fellows; but to no purpose. Within the space of a minute or two, what I apprehended happened. My vehicle was overturned, and thrown with great violence on the ground. The coachman was tossed off his box, and lay bleeding in the road. There was only one person in the coach, and none but myself in the Berlin; yet, neither of us (so tender was the care of Divine Providence!) sustained any considerable hurt. I received only a slight bruise, and had the skin razed from my leg, where I might too reasonably have feared the misfortune of broken bones, dislocated limbs, or a fractured skull.”

“I am much obliged to your Ladyship for taking the trouble of transmitting the sentiments of your critical acquaintance. If I live to write another letter, I will return my opinion with relation to them. This is designedly short; to correspond with my weak state of health. For I am again confined; though, blessed be God! not ‘in durance vile,’ I preached on Sunday; and renewed my cold; so that this morning I have lost my voice. What a dying life is mine! Every blast pierces me, and every cold crushes me. Blessed, for ever blessed be God! for a better life and happier state in the heavens. Where we shall be languid no more; and be ungrateful to Jesus no more; and sin against God no more.”

“December 14, 1752.—Your approbation of anything in my ‘Remarks,’ will give me singular satisfaction; yet, I should be no less obliged for your free thoughts, on what should have been added, expunged, or altered. Point out my blemishes, and supply my defects. Applause may be more soothing to my vanity; but such kind corrections will be more pleasing to my judgment, and more serviceable to our common cause. It is scarce probable, that, a second edition should be published, as the first was numerous; but, if there should be such a demand, I am sure, your animadversions would enrich and ennoble it. As an author, I would aim, singly aim at the glory of my Divine Master, and the furtherance of His everlasting Gospel. Nevertheless, I would, by no means, neglect the recommendations of a graceful composition. I would be glad to have the apples of gold, which are the truths of our holy religion, set in pictures of silver. Generally speaking, human nature must be pleased, in order to be profited. The wisest of men ‘sought and found out acceptable words,’ even when that which was written, was the truth of God.”

“When you please to demand, my brother will pay you £30, for the purchase of a Negro. And may the Lord Jesus Christ give you, or rather take for Himself, the precious soul of the poor slave!”

“London, June 9, 1752.

“My very dear Friend,—I have received and read your manuscripts;[206] but for me to play the critic upon them, would be like holding up a candle to the sun. However, before I leave town, I will just mark a few places as you desire, and then send the manuscripts to your brother. I foretell their fate: nothing but your scenery can screen you. Self will never bear to die, though slain in so genteel a manner, without showing some resentment against its artful murderer.

“You are resolved not to die in my debt. I think to call your intended purchase Weston, and shall take care to remind him by whose means he was brought under the everlasting Gospel.

“O that Doctor Stonehouse may be brought out to preach it! If you do not take the other living” (Collingtree) “yourself, I think your giving it to the Doctor is a glorious scheme.

“Your brother has been so kind as to let me have the little mare again. My Master walked,—I ride, to preach the glorious Gospel. Whether riding or walking, Lord Jesus, let my whole heart be taken up with Thee!

“Adieu, my dearest sir, adieu. Cease not to pray for

“Ever yours whilst

“George Whitefield.”

“London, November 14, 1752.

“My very dear Friend,—”God will bless you for vindicating the honour of His sacred volumes in your last pamphlet, for which, as for all other unmerited favours, I most heartily thank you. I have just now read it, and doubt not of its being greatly blessed and owned, and going through many editions. I cannot discern any errata or inaccuracies in the composition. Surely, God hath raised my dear friend up, to let the polite world see how amiable are the doctrines of the Gospel. Why will you weary the world, and your friends, by delaying to publish your other long wished-for performance.[207] I shall be glad to peruse any of the Dialogues. The savour of the last is not of my mind. Pray let them see the light this winter. They will delight and warm many a heart.

“My dear, very dear friend, good-night. My kind respects await your mother and sister. My wife, who is quite an invalid, joins heartily with me, who am, my very dear sir, yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

“George Whitefield.”

“London, January 27, 1753.

“My very dear Friend,—I thank you a thousand times for the trouble you have been at, in revising my poor compositions, which, I am afraid, you have not treated with becoming severity.

“How many pardons shall I ask for mangling, and, I fear, murdering your dear ‘Theron and Aspasio?’ You will see by Monday’s coach; which will bring a parcel directed for you. It contains one of your ‘Dialogues,’ and two more of my sermons; which I do not like very well myself, and, therefore, shall not wonder if you dislike them. If you think they will do for the public, pray return them immediately, because the other two go to the press next Monday. I have nothing to comfort me but this, ‘that the Lord chooses the weak things of this world to confound the strong; and things, that are not, to bring to nought things that are. I think to sell all four sermons for sixpence. I write for the poor; you for the polite and noble. God will assuredly own and bless what you write.

“As yet, I have only had time to peruse one of your sweet ‘Dialogues.’ As fast as possible, I shall read the rest. I am more than paid for my trouble by reading them.

“The Lord be with your dear heart! Continue to pray for me. The Lord be with us! Grace! Grace!

“I am, dearest sir, in very great haste, but greater love,

“Yours, etc.,

“George Whitefield.”

“My piece is, as yet, only in embryo. Will you, dear sir, contribute your assistance to ripen the design, and bring it to the birth? With this view, I send you my four first dialogues. They are very incorrect, and shamefully blotted.[209] The first fault your pen will mend; the second your candour will excuse. But, instead of making any more apologies, give me leave to lay before you a plan of the whole scheme,” etc.[210]

“Your ladyship is pleased to express a wish, that, I should proceed, without delay, in finishing my intended work. Be assured, your wishes, madam, have all the force of a command with me. I send you the first four ‘Dialogues,’ beseeching you to peruse them, not with the partiality of a friend, but the severity of a critic. The like request I have made of others, and have received their friendly corrections. I am deeply sensible of my own deficiencies, and, in order, therefore, to render my work, if possible, fit for public view—meet for the Master’s use, I shall feel obliged by any corrections or improvements, which your pen may make. Your ladyship is at liberty to show the manuscript to whom you please. Your remarks, and those of your friends, may supply the sterility of my invention, and the poverty of my language. If you really approve of what I have sketched, I shall be encouraged to proceed in my work. May I not hope for the honour of dedicating it to your ladyship? It would give me singular pleasure to have any work of my pen patronised by the Countess of Huntingdon.”[211]

“July 14, 1753.

“Madam,—Accept my thanks, for taking the trouble of perusing my very imperfect manuscript, and my grateful acknowledgments, for the improving touches and remarks you have made, as well as for those of your highly valuable friends and acquaintances. The corrections will be exceedingly beneficial to the work, and render it more acceptable to the public in general. But, I confess, I feel disappointed at your ladyship’s declining to patronise the public attempt of my pen; nevertheless, your observations are so sensible and just, that, I cannot think of pressing the matter on your attention, further than to solicit your prayers for the success of the undertaking, and for the unworthy author.”[212]

“Weston-Favel, March 17, 1753.

“My dear Friend,—I thank you, for the trouble of perusing my very imperfect manuscripts; and I desire Mr. Medley to accept my very grateful acknowledgments for the improving remarks he has made. I beg of him to proceed, and to use the same kind of severity with the other sketches. I am sensible, the pointing is inaccurate; and shall be much obliged for every correction in this particular. It will be no less beneficial to my piece, if he pleases to make free use of the pruning knife. Prolixity, upon such a subject, will infallibly create disgust, especially with the polite, for whose perusal and whose service, I would wish my attempt was properly calculated. I don’t pretend, nor indeed do I wish, to write one new truth. The utmost of my aim is, to represent old doctrines in a pleasing light, and dress them in a fashionable or genteel manner.”[213]

“1753, May 10. I am now setting out for Northampton, where I am to preach the visitation sermon. I know not how I shall speak, so as to be heard, in that very large and lofty church. May the Lord God Omnipotent make His strength perfect, in my extreme weakness. O! for the eloquence of an Apollos, and the fervour of a Boanerges! I am quite ashamed of my poor, jejune, spiritless, composition; and I am no less ashamed of my unbelief, that, I dare not trust God for utterance; but, before an audience that is critical, forsooth must use my notes.”

“1753, May 19. I have lately been somewhat busied in preparing a sermon to be preached before the clergy, at our Archdeacon’s visitation; and, to my weak nerves and languid spirits, a little business is a toil. A commentator, with whom I wish you may long be unacquainted, has taught me the meaning of Solomon’s description, ‘The grasshopper shall be a burden.’ The sermon, though perfectly plain and artless, is in the press. It is printed for the relief of a poor afflicted child, as a short advertisement will inform the world. The person, to whose management it is consigned, has given orders for an impression of two thousand; besides a hundred and fifty, which I have bespoken for myself.”

“My last little essay would have remained in the obscurity of shorthand, if the father of the afflicted youth had not importuned me to send my sermon on a begging errand. I gave it him as a kind of lottery ticket, not without some hopes and many prayers, that it might meet with success, and come up a prize. Nor have I reason to repent; for, though he printed two thousand, he tells me they are almost all sold.”

“Weston-Favel, October 28, 1753.

“I have, this afternoon, been preaching to a crowded audience. You would be surprised, and, I believe, every body wonders that I am able to officiate for myself. I am so weak that I can hardly walk to the end of my parish, though a small one; and so tender, that I dare not visit my poor neighbours, for fear of catching cold in their bleak houses. Yet, I am enabled, on the Lord’s-day, to catechise, and expound to my children in the morning, and to preach in the afternoon. Every Wednesday evening (hay-time and harvest only excepted) I read prayers, and give them a lecture-sermon in Weston church. This is the Lord’s doing, or, as your favourite book expresses it, this is owing to ‘the good hand of my God upon me.’

“God has been pleased to pity the poor youth, for whose relief the visitation-sermon, I preached at Northampton, was printed. An edition of two thousand is disposed of; and the manager, for the distressed object, is venturing upon another edition. See, dear sir, if God will bless, who can blast? If He will further, what can obstruct? A feather, a straw, if He pleases to command, shall be a polished shaft in His quiver. Trust not, therefore, in eloquence or argument, in depth of thought or beauty of style, all of which are confessedly wanting in the present case; but ‘trust ye in the Lord for ever, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength.’”

“Last Sabbath-day, I rode to hear Mr. Hervey at Collingtree; and, to my great surprise as well as satisfaction, having never seen such a thing before in prayer-time, instead of singing psalms, they sung two of Dr. Watts’ hymns, the clerk giving them out line by line. After prayer, without going out of the desk, the minister put off his surplice, and expounded the Second Lesson of the day. And then, without going up into the pulpit, he read Ephesians v. 25-27, and spoke from them very sweetly and clearly. He expounds every Wednesday night, at the same church; preaches twice on the Sabbath; catechizes the children; and meets some people on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in or near the parish where his father preached.”[214]

“I could even now write as floridly and rhetorically as even the admired Dr. R⸺; but, I dare not, because I seek the honour that cometh of God only. What is the praise of men to me, that have one foot in the grave, and am stepping into the land whence I shall not return. Therefore I dare no more write in a fine style than wear a fine coat. But were it otherwise, had I time to spare, I should still write as I do. I should purposely decline, what many admire, a highly ornamental style. I cannot admire French oratory; I despise it from my heart.”

“My writings,” said he, “are not fit for ordinary people; I never give them to such persons, and dissuade this class of men from procuring them. O that they may be of some service to the more refined part of the world!”[215]

“I wish you had taken minutes of what you saw most remarkable in your tour through Westmoreland and Cumberland. Described in your language, and embellished with your imagination, an account of these counties might be highly pleasing to all; and, grafted with religious improvements, might be equally edifying. Such kind of writings suit the present taste. We don’t love close thinking. That is most likely to win our approbation, which extenuates the fancy, without fatiguing the attention. Since this is the disposition of the age, let us endeavour to catch men by guile; turn even a foible to their advantage; and bait the gospel hook agreeably to the prevailing taste. In this sense, ‘become all things to all men.’”

“My library,” says he, “is composed of the books collected by my father and grandfather; among which there are multitudes, that I shall continue a stranger to as long as I live, though they stand at my right hand and my left every day. I want to be better acquainted with God’s holy word; to have its inestimable truths lodged in my memory, its heavenly doctrines impressed upon my heart; that my tempers may take their fashion from it; that my private conversation may be seasoned with it; and my public ministrations enriched by it. Thus, dear sir, may the word of Christ dwell in us richly! I am, what people would call, a moderate Calvinist; but, I assure you, I can bear, I shall delight to have, my notions sifted; nor am I so attached to any favourite scheme, but I can readily relinquish it, when Scripture and reason convince me it is wrong.”

“My bookseller tells me, it will be impossible to comprise my essay in less than three volumes of the ‘Meditations’ size. It is much against my inclination to exceed the quantity of two volumes; but, I believe, I must submit, or else we shall cramp the design, and mutilate the plan.”[216]

“May 20. I send two or three manuscripts, and beg of you to exercise the same frankness of admiration, and the same impartiality of censure upon them. My bookseller tells me, it cannot be comprised in less than three volumes. I have always had an aversion to so diffusive a work. Many will not have ability to purchase them; many not have leisure to read them; and to some, I fear, the very sight of three volumes would be like loads of meat to a squeamish stomach. Yet, I cannot contract the work, without omitting those parts which are intended to entertain the reader, keep him in good humour, and allure or bribe him to go on. What would you advise? I send ‘Letters,’ eight, nine, ten, and eleven; and ‘Dialogues,’ fifteen and seventeen. Do, my dear sir, improve, polish, and enrich them. I am, this day, a prisoner in my chamber, and write in much pain. Blessed be God for that world, where all tears will be wiped away from our eyes, and there will be no more pain.”

“May 30. I send herewith four of my ‘Dialogues,’ which I beg of you to examine with a kind severity. I do assure you, I can bear to receive censure from a friend, and will kiss the lips that administer it, especially when it is intended to preserve my attempts to further the glorious gospel from the contempt of the public. I will, ere long, send you, in a frank, a general view of my plan, which, in the execution, is become too prolix, and cannot be comprehended in less than three volumes, unless some judicious friend will help me to curtail and abridge. I am very unwilling to publish a work consisting of three volumes; I apprehend this will obstruct the sale not a little.”

“May I promise myself the benefit of your opinion concerning the publication of three volumes? As you know the taste and temper of the polite world, I should be much obliged for your advice. And I beg you will not flatter my vanity; but, if you think, that three volumes on a religious subject will be insupportable, be so kind as to tell me plainly. I would fain write what may be acceptable, in order to write what may be useful; and, for my own part, I really am afraid, that, so large a work will be less likely to subserve such a design.”

“June 16. I have still another scruple, which respects not the gay and splendid world, but the mean and penurious. I would gladly have my books in those hands, which hold the plough, and ply the distaff, because these persons are as nearly related to the all-creating God, and as highly beloved by the ever-blessed Jesus, as those who wear a crown, or wield a sceptre. But these will hardly be able to purchase three volumes. I thank your ladyship for your kind offer, in reference to the princess; but my work is so far from being ready to come abroad, that, it is not yet in the press. The necessary preliminaries, one of which is the number of the volumes, are not settled; though, as to this particular, I begin to be pretty well satisfied.”

“June 21. Before this arrives, I hope my ‘Dialogues’ will have received the free correction, and the friendly improvement of your pen. As, through my many and repeated infirmities, I had long discontinued and have often intermitted my intended work, I am informed, from London, that the abettors of the Socinian scheme have been pleased to triumph in my disappointment; imagining that, through fear or inability, I had laid aside my design, and insinuating, that, I had changed my principles, or was conscious of the weakness of my cause. From these gentlemen, if my essay should appear in public, it may expect a severe examination, and probably a violent attack. I hope your friendship will anticipate their inveteracy, and remove those blemishes, which might give them a handle for censure, or a ground for insult. What is your opinion, as to publishing three volumes? Mr. Moses Brown and another friend pronounce in the affirmative, though I am much afraid that this circumstance will clog the sale. There are several pieces that are a kind of excursion from the principal subject, calculated to relieve and entertain the reader, yet not without administering some spiritual benefit. A whole ‘Dialogue’ upon the wisdom, power, and goodness, displayed in the contrivance and formation of the human body. Two or three ‘Letters,’ pointing out the traces of the same grand and amiable attributes in the constitution of the earth, the air, and the ocean. These I am afraid to lop off, lest it should be like wiping the bloom from the plum, or taking the gold from the gingerbread. To you I say gingerbread, though I would not say so to the public, for I really think the taste of the present age is somewhat like the humour of children: their milk must be sugared, their wine spiced, and their necessary food garnished with flowers, and enriched with sweetmeats.”

“July 8. I have had my bookseller’s opinion with relation to the number of copies proper to be printed, at which I am somewhat surprised, and must desire your advice. He says 5000 in small, and 750 in large, octavo. To this I have some objections. In the first place, the sale of such a prodigious quantity cannot be but hazardous, though, I must confess, I have no reason to distrust the goodness of that over-ruling Providence, to which I would humbly ascribe the acceptance of a preceding essay. This scruple, therefore, shall be set aside. But what think you of the following consideration? Errors and weaknesses, if such a number be printed at once, may never be corrected; whereas, if we publish half the proposed number, and a second edition is demanded, there may be an opportunity of correcting mistakes, and re-touching inaccuracies. May I not hope to receive a few hints for a Preface, in which I am advised to declare, that, it is my firm resolution to enter no farther into the controversy? with this view, that, in case the doctrines are attacked, other and abler champions may see a clear stage for their entrance.”[217]

“July 13. Here are six ‘Dialogues.’ May God enable you to search them, as with a candle, and make them such as He will condescend to bless! I have dropped several objections and answers; yet, I fear, too many are still retained. A multiplicity of objects dissipates the attention either of the eye or mind. Are, what the painters call, the two unities preserved? one principal action and one grand point of view in each piece? Does Theron speak enough, or with such weight, and such a spice of the sal Atticus, as might suit his character? Here and there, a touch of wit or genteel satire in him, I think, would be grateful, especially in the first part, before he is brought to a conviction of his guilt?” “You can scarcely imagine what a demand there is for the book, even before publication. It makes me rejoice with trembling. I now feel the loss of our valuable friend, Dr. Doddridge, to whose judgment I ever paid the highest deference. I expect you will tell me my manuscript is very prolix; but I designedly made it so, that my friends may judge what is proper to be omitted. It is easier you know, to expunge than to compose. I wish they would, with a leaden pencil, enclose in a parenthesis what they would have dropped. I hope to retrench one-fourth of the copy.”

September 28. I have to request the honour of your name, to dignify and recommend my book, which has been, for a considerable time, committed to the press. It will, I believe, be entitled ‘Theron and Aspasio; or, a Series of Dialogues and Letters, upon the most Important and Interesting Subjects.’ The whole will constitute three volumes. It will, I apprehend, make its appearance about the time appointed for the meeting of the Parliament; and I know no person whose name will give the author more satisfaction, or be a higher recommendation to his performance, than your ladyship’s.“[218]

“November 24. You have highly obliged me, in permitting me to grace my work with your name. I have been, ever since I received your ladyship’s letter, engaged to keep no less than eight hands constantly employed in printing, which has taken up all my time. Be so kind, madam, as to favour me with your advice, whether I should present the book to the princess.[219] I must, I apprehend, present it to the prince’s preceptor,[220] because he is our diocesan, and treated me in a very genteel manner, when I received institution from him. This is the last frank I have. Could you, Madam, accommodate me with a fresh supply? At this juncture a few of those vehicles would be very welcome and serviceable.”[221]

“To grant my request was obliging; to grant it so speedily was like yourself. My hands are still tied by the business of the press. You can hardly imagine what obstructions and mistakes happen in the process of such a work, especially when the author is at a distance from the press. I take it for granted your ladyship approves of my presenting the piece to the princess, but would you have me attempt to put it into the hands of the prince?[222] I question whether the bishop would think it a proper book for his royal highness’s collection. I dare say Mr. Stone[223] (who, I am told, is the principal director of the prince’s conduct), would banish it, not for a term of years, but, for ever; and not to the American colonies, but to the country of the Hottentots. I dare not expect that the bishop himself will like it; but, perhaps, he will dislike my practice, if I do not pay him the compliment. When he gave us a charge, at his last visitation, he inveighed against enthusiasm on the one hand, and profaneness on the other; and some of our reverend brethren took notice, that, when delivering himself on the former topic, he frequently threw his eye upon my friend Hartley and me. However, this I must say, he wrote me a very handsome letter, when I presented him with the ‘Remarks on Lord Bolingbroke;’ and, in a private letter, which I happened to see, expressed no disapprobation concerning the ‘Meditations.’”

“December 26. I have a fresh obligation to your ladyship for procuring me the opinion of good Dr. Hales.[224] I cannot but be pleased with his approbation; but I cannot persuade myself, that, the bishop will undertake to present the books, or even consent to his royal pupil’s reading them. In case he should present them, who knows in what manner he may do it? Suppose he should shrug his shoulders, and say, ‘An ambitious and conceited clergyman of his diocese, by the importunity of request, in a manner, forced him upon this office. How ungraceful would the affair appear, and how unsuitable to decorum of conduct! Upon the whole, I am in a state of real perplexity. I would not seem to slight the Doctor’s opinion, much less reject his solicitation; yet, I cannot prevail upon myself to think, that, to execute the proposal would be the propriety of action. I hope, madam, you will give me your free advice, and help to extricate me from this embarrassment, into which yourself, yes, you yourself, have led me. For I should never have been known to such grand personages, if you had not condescended to introduce me. My name had never been heard by a royal ear, if it had not received some credit by your ladyship’s notice.”[225]

“Mr. John Wesley takes me very roundly to task, on the score of predestination; at which I am much surprised. Because a reader, ten times less penetrating than he is, may easily see, that, this doctrine (be it true or false) makes no part of my scheme; never comes under consideration; is purposely and carefully avoided. I cannot but fear he has some sinister design. Put the wolf’s skin on the sheep, and the flock will shun him, the dogs will worry him. I do not charge such an artifice, but sometimes I cannot help forming a suspicion.”

“Weston-Favel, June 29, 1754.

“Dear Sir,—I have read your ‘Notes,’ and have returned them by the Northampton carrier, and transmitted such observations as occur to my mind. I think, in general, you are too sparing of your remarks and improvements. Many expositions are too corpulent; your’s are rather too lean. May the good hand of the Lord be with them and with their author! ‘Bengelius’ is likewise returned, with thanks for the use of that valuable book. Please to present my affectionate respects to Mr. Charles, and desire him, if he has done with ‘Vitringa,’ to send it by the same conveyance as brings your parcel. Let me beg to be remembered in your prayers, and in his, that, I may not dishonour the relation of, dear sir, your brother and friend in Christ,

“James Hervey.”[227]

“Dialogue I. Character of the speakers.—On improving conversation.—Elegance and dignity of the Scriptures.

“Dialogue II. Walk through the gardens.—The beautiful frame and beneficial ordination of things.—Preparatory discourse on the Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness.—Meaning of the terms settled.

“Dialogue III. Walk through a meadow.—Doctrine of Christ’s satisfaction stated.—Considered as a Redemption Price, and as a Sacrifice for sin.—Variously typified under the Mosaic dispensation.

“Dialogue IV. Park and romantic mount.—Christ’s death further considered, as the very punishment which our sins deserved.—Objections, ancient and modern, answered.—The whole summed up and improved.

“Dialogue V. Elegant arbour in the flower-garden.—Imputation of Christ’s obedience.—Objections from reason canvassed.

“Dialogue VI. Gallery of pictures.—Library and its furniture.—A sordid taste in painting censured; a more graceful manner displayed.—Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness resumed.—Objections from Scripture urged and refuted.

“Dialogue VII. Hay-making.—Pleasures of nature freely enjoyed.—Blessings of grace bestowed with equal freeness.—Theron’s plan of acceptance with God; consists of sincerity, repentance, and good works, recommended by the merits of Christ.—This shown to be a false foundation.—No such thing as a good work, till we are accepted through the Redeemer.

“Dialogue VIII. Duelling.—Animadversions on the practice.—Spirituality and extent of the Divine law.—Infinite purity of God.

“Dialogue IX. Curious summer-house.—No relaxation of the Divine law, as to the precept or the penalty.—Its inflexible strictness, and principal ends.

“Dialogue X. Theron’s last effort to demolish the evangelical scheme of justification.—Among other objections, more plausible and refined than the preceding, he strenuously insists, that, faith is our righteousness.—Review of the whole.

“Dialogue XI. Ruins of Babylon.—Fine passage from Mr. Howe.—Depravity and ruin of human nature, as they are represented in Scripture.—Applied, with a view to determine the yet dubious inquiry.

“Dialogue XII. Extremely hot day.—A solemn shady bower.—True method of deriving benefit from the classics.—The wonderful structure and economy of the human body.

“Dialogue XIII. Walk upon the terrace.—Depravity of human nature, laid open and proved from experience.—Uses of the doctrine, and its subserviency to the grand point.

“Dialogue XIV. Theron alone in the fields.—His soliloquy on the charms of rural nature.—His reflections on the past conferences.—Aspasio reinforces his arguments for the Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness.—Recommends self-examination, the keeping of a diary, and prayer for the enlightening Spirit.—Departs, under an engagement to correspond by letter.

“Letter I. Aspasio opens the correspondence with some important articles of duty; designed to facilitate self-examination, and promote conviction of sin.

“Letter II. Theron, convinced of the iniquity of his life, and the evil of his heart, sees the necessity of a better righteousness than his own.—Desires a further explanation, and a fuller proof of the doctrine under debate.

“Letter III. Aspasio proves the point—from the Liturgy—the Articles—the Homilies of the Church of England—and the writings of the Fathers.

“Letter IV. Aspasio re-establishes the tenet, from the Scriptures of the Old Testament.

“Letter V. Aspasio relates a remarkable panic.—Terrors of the day of judgment.—Christ’s Righteousness and its Imputation, largely demonstrated from the New Testament.

“Letter VI. Theron takes a cursory view of the habitable creation.—Traces the perfections of nature through the earth, air, and fire.—Admirable construction, and advantageous effects, of these elements.

“Letter VII. Aspasio takes occasion to display the no less admirable perfection of Christ’s Righteousness.—Its Principle—Extent—Perseverance.

“Letter VIII. Aspasio describes a drought.—Majesty and beauty of the sun, after a night of rain.—The meritorious excellency of Christ’s Righteousness illustrated, from the magnificence of His works, and the divinity of His person.

“Letter IX. Theron’s account of the western cliffs—the wonders of the ocean—and the benefits of navigation.

“Letter X. Aspasio enumerates the much richer benefits resulting from the Imputation of Christ’s Righteousness.—Shows their happy influence, on holiness of heart, and obedience of life.

“Letter XI. Aspasio exemplifies the last particular; in two very memorable instances.—Especially in the conduct of Abraham offering up his son Isaac.

“Letter XII. Aspasio touches upon union with Christ.—How described in Scripture.—Its blessed and glorious effects.

“Dialogue XV. Aspasio revisits Theron.—Theron under anxiety of spirit.—Partly to entertain, partly to comfort his friend, Aspasio enlarges upon the bounty of the Creator, visible both in the animal and vegetable world.—The new convert is slow of heart to believe.—Evangelical motives to faith.

“Dialogue XVI. Harvest scene.—Philenor’s gardens.—Statues.—Grove of evergreens.—Nature of true faith.—Its sure foundation, and sovereign supports.

“Dialogue XVII. A river voyage.—The diversified prospect.—Comparative happiness.—Advantages of peace.—A celebration of the Gospel and its blessings, in a kind of rhapsody.—Christ’s Righteousness applied, to every case of distress, and every time of need.”

“The author confesses a very peculiar fondness for the amiable scenes of creation. It is, therefore, not at all improbable, but his excursions on this topic may be of the diffusive kind, and his descriptions somewhat luxuriant. It is hoped, however, that, the benevolent reader will indulge him in this favourite foible.”

“Aspasio. Justification is an act of God Almighty’s grace; whereby He acquits His people from guilt, and accounts them righteous; for the sake of Christ’s righteousness, which was wrought out for them, and is imputed to them.

“Theron. Two of your terms want some further explication. What do you understand by Christ’s righteousness? And what is the meaning of imputed?

“Aspasio. By Christ’s righteousness, I understand, all the various instances of His active and passive obedience; springing from the perfect holiness of His heart; continued through the whole progress of His life; and extending to the very last pang of His death. By the word imputed, I would signify, that, this righteousness, though performed by our Lord, is placed to our account; is reckoned or adjudged by God as our own. Insomuch, that we may plead it, and rely on it, for the pardon of our sins; for adoption into His family; and for the enjoyment of life eternal.”

“The nature of justification, and the nature of condemnation are two opposites, which will mutually illustrate each other. What is implied in the condemnation of a sinner? He forfeits eternal life, and is doomed to eternal death. What is included in the justification of a sinner? It supersedes his obligation to punishment, and invests him with a title to happiness. In order to the first, there must be a remission of sins. In order to the second, an imputation of righteousness. Both which are derived from Christ’s mediation on our behalf; and both take place, when we are united to that Divine Head.”

“This, I know, is the fine-spun theory of your systematic divines. But where is their warrant from Scripture? By what authority do they introduce such subtle distinctions?”

“Aspasio. I cannot think the distinction so subtle, or the theory so finely spun. To be released from the damnatory sentence, is one thing; to be treated as a righteous person, is evidently another. Absalom was pardoned, when he received a permission to remove from Geshur, and dwell at Jerusalem. But this was very different from the re-commencement of filial duty, and parental endearment. A rebel may be exempted from the capital punishment, which his traitorous practices deserve; without being restored to the dignity of his former state, or the rights of a loyal subject. In Christianity likewise, to be freed from the charge of guilt, and to be regarded as a righteous person, are two several blessings; really distinct in themselves, and often distinguished in Scripture.”

“Let me produce one text more,—‘I send thee to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God; that, they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in Me’ (Acts xxvi. 18). Here Christ distinguishes between remission of sins, and the inheritance of the saints; between the pardon that delivers from hell, and the justification that entitles to heaven. So that the former does by no means constitute the latter; but is connected with it, as a link in the same sacred chain; or included in it, as part of the same glorious whole.

“Theron. Admitting your distinction to be just, is not the satisfaction, made by the death of Christ, sufficient of itself to obtain, both our full pardon, and our final happiness?

“Aspasio. Since my friend has started the question, I may venture, with all reverence to the divine counsels, to answer in the negative; it being necessary, that, the Redeemer of man should obey, as well as suffer, in their stead” (John x. 18; Matt. iii. 15; Rom. v. 17). “It should be considered, Whether Christ’s sufferings were a complete satisfaction of the law? Complete they were with regard to the penalty, not with regard to the precept. A distinction obvious and important. From whence arises the following argument; which, for once, you will allow me to propose in the logical form. By what alone the law was not satisfied; by that alone sinners could not be justified: By Christ’s sufferings alone, the law was not satisfied. Therefore, by Christ’s sufferings alone, sinners could not be justified. But when we join the active with the passive obedience of our Lord,—the efficacy of the one, with the perfection of the other,—how does our justification stand firm, in the fullest sense of the word! We have all that the law demands, both for our exemption from the curse, and as a title to the blessing.

“Theron. But if we are justified by Christ’s fulfilling the law, we are justified by works. So that, before you can strike out such a way of salvation, you must contradict yourself; and, what is more adventurous, you must abolish that fundamental principle of the Gospel; ‘By the works of the law, shall no flesh be justified.’

“Aspasio. I grant it, Theron. We are justified by works. But whose? The works of Christ, not our own. And this is very far from contradicting ourselves; equally far is it from abolishing, what you call the Gospel-principle. Between the covenant of works, and the covenant of grace, this, I apprehend, is the difference: By the former, man was indispensably bound to obey, in his own person. By the latter, the obedience of his surety is accepted, instead of his own. The righteousness required by both, is, not sincere, but complete; not proportioned to the abilities of fallen man, but to the purity of the law, and the majesty of the Lawgiver. By this means, the glory of God as an awful sovereign, and the glory of His law as an inviolable system, are entirely preserved and illustriously displayed. The salvation of sinners, neither clashes with the truth, nor interferes with the justice of the supreme Legislator. On the contrary, it becomes a faithful and just procedure of the most High God, to justify him that believeth on Jesus.

“Theron. Farewell then to our own obedience. No more occasion for any holiness of life. Fine divinity truly! Should I not rather say? Downright Antinomianism!

“Aspasio. No, my friend; Christ came not to destroy the law, but to fulfil. He has fulfilled it to the very uttermost, in His own person. He has also merited for us, and conveys to us, those supplies of the Spirit, which alone can enable us to yield faithful and acceptable obedience.

“Theron. My principal objection is not satisfied. I was observing, that, according to your manner of stating the affair, salvation is no longer free, but founded upon works. They are the works of the law, though Christ performs them. To maintain that we are justified by these works, is to confound the difference between the law and the Gospel.

“Aspasio. Though we should admit your premises, we cannot acquiesce in your conclusion. The same righteousness, by which we are justified, is both legal and evangelical. Legal, in respect to Christ, who was made under the law, that He might obey all its commands. Evangelical, in respect to us, who work not ourselves, but believe in the great fulfiller of all righteousness. We are justified by works, if you look forward to our Surety. We are justified without works, if you cast a retrospective view on ourselves. The grand reason, which inclines some people to reject this comfortable doctrine, lies concealed, if not in an absolute disbelief of our Lord’s eternal glory and Godhead, yet, in unsettled apprehensions of it, or an habitual inattention to it. If our Saviour was not really God, it would be a reasonable practice to disavow the imputation of His righteousness. Because, upon such a supposition, His obedience was no more than bounden duty; in which there could not be the least pretence to merit, and which could be profitable to none but Himself. Whereas, if we verily believe Him to be the Incarnate God, His submission to the law becomes an act of voluntary humiliation. Which circumstance, together with the transcendent dignity of His person, renders His obedience, not meritorious only, but inexpressibly and infinitely meritorious.

“Theron. But if Christ’s righteousness, His very righteousness, be imputed; then, the true believers are altogether as righteous as Christ Himself. Whereas, if you maintain, that, His righteousness is imputed only as to its effect, you will keep clear of this rock.

“Aspasio. This, I fear, will be like keeping clear of Scylla, only to fall foul upon Charybdis. What are the effects of the Mediator’s righteousness? Pardon of sin, justification of our persons, and the sanctification of our nature. Shall we say, these effects, these benefits, are imputed? To talk of their imputation, I think, is an affront to sound sense. All these benefits are not imputed, but imparted; they are not reckoned to us, but are really enjoyed by us. Yet it does by no means follow, that believers are altogether as righteous, as Christ; unless you can prove, that, to be the receiver is, in all respects, the same, as to be the Author and Finisher. The righteousness of Christ arises solely from Himself; the source of ours subsists in another. Christ’s righteousness is originally and absolutely His own; whereas, it is made ours in a way of favour, and gracious imputation.”

“Theron. But if Christ’s perfect obedience be accounted ours, me-thinks, we should have no more need of pardoning mercy than Christ Himself.

“Aspasio. Yes; because before this imputation, we were sunk in guilt, and dead in sins. Because, after it, we are defective in our duty, and in many things offend.

“Theron. Does not this doctrine render the intercession of our Saviour superfluous? What occasion have they for an advocate with the Father, whose righteousness has neither blemish nor imperfection?

“Aspasio. They stand in need of an advocate, first, that they may be brought home to the Repairer of their breaches, and made partakers of His righteousness by a living faith. Next, that their faith may be preserved, notwithstanding all opposition, steadfast and immovable; or rather, may be carried on, victorious and triumphant, to the end.

“Theron. You say, ‘Christ performed all that was conditionary’; then He repented for us, and believed for us.

“Aspasio. Christ performed whatever was required by the covenant of works, both before it was violated, and after it had been transgressed. But neither repentance nor faith was comprehended in this institution. It was not therefore necessary, neither indeed was it possible, for our spotless and Divine Lord to repent of sin, or believe in a Saviour.

“Theron. However, from what you have advanced, this will unavoidably follow—That a man is to be justified, under the character of a notorious transgressor of the law; and justified under the character of a sinless observer of the law. And what is this, but a glaring inconsistency?

“Aspasio. Not at all inconsistent, but absolutely needful, if we consider those distinct branches of the Divine law, the preceptive and the penal. Both which, in case of guilt already contracted, must necessarily be satisfied. Not at all inconsistent, if we take in the two constituent parts of justification, the acquittance from guilt, and a title to life. The former supposes us to be transgressors of the law; and such the highest saints in the world are. The latter requires us to be observers of the law; and such must the inheritors of heaven be. Much less is this inconsistent, if we consider believers in their personal and relative capacity; as they are in themselves, and as they are in their Surety. Notorious transgressors in themselves, they have a sinless obedience in Christ. The consciousness of that, will be an everlasting motive to humility; the belief of this, an inexhaustible source of joy.”

“‘The imputed righteousness of Christ’ is a phrase not scriptural. It has done immense hurt. I have had abundant proof, that the frequent use of this unnecessary phrase, instead of ‘furthering men’s progress in vital holiness,’ has made them satisfied without any holiness at all; yea, and encouraged them to work all uncleanness with greediness.”[231]

“Weston-Favel, February 23, 1755.

“My thirst after books is very much allayed. I have bid adieu to the curious and entertaining inventions of wit, or discoveries of science. My principal attention is now devoted to the sacred oracles of inspiration. These I should be glad to have in their noblest form and highest perfection; and, I find, there is now published a very fine edition of the Hebrew Scriptures, by Father Houbigant. Such a present would be singularly acceptable, and, I hope, it would be beneficial. I do not know the price: though, I fear, it will be costly; as it consists of four tomes in folio, and as Hebrew printing is uncommonly expensive.”[234]

“March 1. If what I mentioned be an improper proposal, you will have such a kind regard to the unadvised writer, as to stifle and suppress his project. My heart is not set on that or any other book. As I have the Bible in its pure and sacred original, I can dispense with the circumstance of a grand and pompous form.

“I have received a very friendly letter from the bishop; and Dr. Hales has transmitted to me the thanks of her royal highness. Alas, madam! what good does this do me? Or, if I were presented to a deanery, what service would that do me when I stand at the great tribunal? Blessed Jesus, let not my poor endeavours be rewarded with such chaff! Be Thou glorified; let souls be edified; and then they who read, and he who wrote, may one day rejoice together.”

“March 8. We have begun another edition, and ventured to print three thousand. Any remarks and improvements will be extremely welcome; but they must be communicated soon, otherwise, perhaps, they cannot take place; for it was proposed to begin upon each volume at once; and proceed, by means of several hands, and several presses, with great expedition.

“The Princess of Wales, and my other noble friends, were pleased to receive my books, in a very candid and obliging manner.”[235]

“March 15. The author of the London Magazine has taken notice of ‘Theron and Aspasio,’ and, really, in a very respectful and honourable manner. My sentence in the Gentleman’s Magazine is respited till next month. I know not whether the Monthly Review has taken me to task; but this I know, that, if God be for us, it matters not who is against us.”[236]

“I proposed to have closed the plan of ‘Theron and Aspasio’ with an explicit and pretty copious treatise on evangelical holiness or obedience; and to have shown my true believer in his dying moments. If your thoughts should happen to take such a turn, be so good as to suggest what you think the most advisable and advantageous way of managing this important point. This would most effectually stop the mouths of Arminians, and be the best security against the abuses of Antinomians. I could wish, if it were the Lord’s will, that I might live to furnish out one more volume of this kind.”

“April 5. Our new edition goes on at a great rate. They have finished very near half of each volume: and my publisher, presuming that I should have no objection, took the liberty of making the edition consist of 4,000, instead of 3,000, on which we had agreed. I suppose he was prompted to do this, by finding a call for the piece.”[237]

“April 22. The doctrine, which you approve in my essay, and have clearly displayed and fully proved in your own writings, is not relished by everybody; no, not by many pious people. I take the liberty to send you a couple of letters containing objections.[238] I wish you would be so kind as to consider them, and, in your concise way, which I much admire, to make your remarks upon them. I am not shaken in my opinion by these attacks; but I should be glad to deliver it more clearly, and establish it more firmly, in another edition.

“I heartily wish you success in your projected work.[239] I assure you, it is my opinion, that, such a book, if well executed, will be one of the most valuable services to the present age. You will not, I hope, be too hasty. Mr. Wesley has huddled over his performance[240] in a most precipitate, and, therefore, most imperfect manner. One would think, his aim was, not to select the best and noblest passages, but to reprint those which came first to hand.”

“1755, July 5. I have just now read advertised in the magazine, the following book, ‘An Epistle from Charles Wesley to John Wesley.’ Has your ladyship seen or heard of it? If you have, be so good as to inform me of the design and contents. I hope, there is no hostility commenced between the brothers. I have no connection, nor correspondence with them, but should be sorry for such an event.”[241]

“Weston, August, 1755.

“Pray return Mr. Wesley’s letter. I find, by private intelligence, that, he has shown it in London; and has thought proper to animadvert upon me, by name, from his pulpit. I am inclined to take no notice either of his preaching or his writing.

“My good friend, Mr. Whitefield, is now at my house. He purposes to lift up his voice at Northampton, and proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”[242]

“Weston-Favel, September 10, 1755.

“My dear Friend,—I esteem your letters as treasures. Though I destroy almost all I receive, every one of yours is preserved.

“The grasshopper is a burden to me. Every blast blows me down, or my continual indisposition and inconceivable languors pierce through me. I now hang a swelled face over my paper; occasioned only by taking the air yesterday in my chair, and finding a sharper atmosphere, than for many weeks I had been accustomed to. Pray for me, dear sir, that, established in Christ, and strong in His faith, I may be looking for, and hasting to the coming of the day of God; when this poor, enervated, crazy body, will be made like unto Christ’s glorious body.

“I live with my mother and sister. Our method is, every morning at nine, when we breakfast, to read a verse or two from the Bible, and make it the subject of our conversation,” etc., etc.

“I desire your opinion concerning the plan of my new work; which, with a weak hand and desponding heart, I have sketched out, though with very little hope of being enabled to execute.

“The Plan of the Supplement to Theron and Aspasio.

“Pleasure and happiness of Christ’s religion (for I am of the same mind with Mr. Marshall, in his Treatise on Sanctification, namely, that, we must partake of the comforts of the Gospel, before we can practise the duties of the law).—Theron oppressed with fears, on account of his numerous sins.—Discouraged with doubts on account of his imperfect obedience.—The cordials of the Gospel re-administered, with some additional spirit and strength.—Objections to assurance of faith, stated, discussed, answered.—Vital holiness; its nature, necessity, excellency.—Its grand efficient, the blessed Spirit.—Its principal instrument, true faith; mixed with which, the Scriptures, the Lord’s Supper, prayer, the divine promises, are powerful and effectual means; disunited from which, they are a dead letter and insignificant ordinances.—The evangelical principles of holiness, such as, ‘I beseech you by the mercies of God’; ‘Ye are bought with a price’; ‘Ye are the temples of the living God’; etc.—All these privileges, though not hereditary, yet indefeasible; or the final perseverance of the believer.—Our friends part; renew their correspondence; Theron desires to glorify the God of his salvation, asks advice concerning the best method of family worship, educating children, instructing servants, edifying acquaintance.—On each of these particulars, Aspasio satisfies his inquiry, enlarges on the subject of education, especially of daughters; as that seems to be the most neglected, or the proper way of conducting it least understood.—Letter on the covenant of grace, comprising the substance, and being a kind of recapitulation, of the three foregoing volumes.—Aspasio seized with a sudden and fatal illness; his sentiments and behaviour in his last moments.

“If, dear sir, you see anything in this plan, that is improper; anything that is defective, supply it; and if any thoughts occur on any of the topics, be so kind as to suggest them.”

“At the time I wrote, I had not the least thought of making it public. I only spoke my private thoughts, in a free, open manner, to a friend dear as a brother,—I had almost said, to a pupil,—to a son; for so near I still accounted him.”

“‘The righteousness wrought out by Jesus Christ is wrought out for all His people, to be the cause of their justification, and the purchase of their salvation. The righteousness is the cause, and the purchase.’ So the death of Christ is not so much as named! ‘For all His people.’ But what becomes of all other people? They must invariably perish for ever. The die was cast or ever they were in being. The doctrine to pass them by has—

“I could sooner be a Turk, a deist, yea, an atheist, than I could believe this. It is less absurd to deny the very existence of God, than to make Him an almighty tyrant.

“‘The whole world and all its seasons are rich with our Creator’s goodness. His tender mercies are over all His works.’ Are they over the bulk of mankind? Where is His goodness to the non-elect? How are His tender mercies over them? His temporal blessings are given to them. But are they blessings to them at all? Are they not all curses? Does not God know they are? that, they will only increase their damnation? Does He not design they should? And this you call goodness! This is tender mercy!

“‘May we not discern pregnant proofs of goodness in each individual object?’ No; on your scheme, not a spark of it, in this world or the next, to the far greater part of the work of His hands.

“‘This is His tender complaint, They will not come unto me!’ Nay, that is not the case; they cannot. He Himself has decreed not to give them that grace without which their coming is impossible.

“‘The grand end which God proposes in all His favourable dispensations to fallen man is to demonstrate the sovereignty of His grace.’ Not so: to impart happiness to His creatures is His grand end herein. Barely to demonstrate His sovereignty is a principle of action fit for the Great Turk, not the Most High God.”

“Weston, November 25, 1755.

“There is, doubtless, abundance to be said against Predestination. And abundance has been said, with great force of argument, for its support, and that by men of the most eminent learning and exalted piety. As this is the case, and as it is not necessary to faith and salvation either that we should embrace or that we should reject the doctrine, I think we may prudently and safely acquiesce in the advice of a great scholar and a great saint: ‘Let a man go to the grammar-school of faith and holiness before he enters the university of election and predestination,’ I am at the grammar-school; and there, perhaps, I shall continue, till I hear the voice from heaven, saying, ‘Come up hither, and I will show thee what thou couldest not comprehend in the regions below. Madam, shall I have the honour of your ladyship for a form-fellow? You shall be the head-scholar; only be content to allow us your company, and do not leave us for a higher class. Let us study the glories of Christ’s person, and the love of His heart; let us contemplate His infinite satisfaction and everlasting righteousness. May the knowledge of these grand doctrines be revealed in our hearts by the blessed Spirit! May the faith of these unspeakable privileges comfort our souls, purify our affections, and work by love! Then we shall, ere long, see every dark, mysterious point cleared up to our full satisfaction. We shall see, without a veil, the shining and adorable perfections of our God. We shall know His unsearchable counsels and wonderful ways, even as we are known.

“In the meantime, I would beg leave to decline all controversy. I can very freely converse or correspond with persons who either adopt or discard Predestination; provided, they will not drag in the litigated proposition, and force me to engage in disputation. But, if they are determined to obtrude the bone of contention, I had much rather remain alone and in silence; for, I readily confess, that I am not master of the subject. Therefore it would be very unadvised in me to undertake either its establishment or refutation.

“I believe, I must desire your ladyship to return this letter, with your free remarks upon it, because I do not know but I shall be obliged to explain myself on this subject before the public. Because a person,[244] who makes a great figure in the religious world, has sent me some critical remarks and pretty keen censures on my late work, but inveighs particularly against my predestination principles; at which I am somewhat surprised, because I have (whatever my sentiments are) studiously avoided this peculiarity; I have but barely mentioned it, in the apostle’s own words; only in an incidental manner; and without explaining, enlarging upon, or inculcating it.”

“1756, November 29. Herewith, you have the grand attack from Mr. Wesley, of which I apprised you some time ago. Examine it closely; return it speedily; and, if you please, confute it effectually; demolish the battery, and spike up the cannon. I have not answered in any shape, and, when I do answer with my pen, I propose nothing more than a general acknowledgment, and an inquiry, whether he proposes to print his animadversions.”

“I have never,” said he, “since I was minister at Weston, used written notes; so that all my public Discourses are vanished into air; unless the blessed Spirit has left any traces of them, on the hearts of the hearers. And, though I have many Discourses, that were written before I discontinued the use of notes, they are all penned in short-hand, and are intelligible to none but the writer. I sometimes speak to my people an hour together; but I always blame myself for it. It detains the congregation too long. It renders the Discourse tiresome to be heard, and almost impossible to be remembered. This is one of the inconveniences attending the extempore method of preaching. We forget how the time passes away.”[247]

“I am inclined,” said he, “to print two or three Sermons, preached on the late Fast-Days. These, for some particular reason, I happened to take down in short-hand. As I have seen no Discourses, on this occasion, that were sufficiently evangelical, I have a strong desire, for the supply of this one defect only, to appear on the stage.” “Here,” he observed to Mr. Ryland, “I shall make a sacrifice of all my reputation (if I ever had any), with the elegant and polite; and let it go, freely let it go, if any honour may redound to the Lord our Righteousness.”

“The author pretends to nothing refined or extraordinary; he affects neither brilliant thought, nor polished style; equally remote from nice criticism and profound learning, his Discourses are studiously plain, and brought down to the level of the meanest capacity. ‘What then is his motive?’ This is the very truth. In several of the sermons, published on this occasion, the one thing needful seems to be overlooked. Christ and His free grace,—Christ and His great salvation,—are either totally omitted, or but slightly touched. Till these doctrines are generally inculcated, the most eloquent harangues from the pulpit, or the most correct dissertations from the press, will be no better than a pointless arrow, and a broken bow.”

“He loved simplicity in his manner of preaching. He had no complicated and perplexed conceptions; no crowd of thoughts to overwhelm his own understanding, or the conceptions of his hearers. In all his sermons, you might discern a clear and easy arrangement; nothing tedious; no long-winded periods; no perplexing parentheses; no tiresome circumlocutions; but everything adapted to the weakest memory of his auditors. He despised and avoided all boisterous noise,—all rude and violent vociferation in the pulpit. His subjects were always serious and sublime; they might well be ranged under three heads,—Ruin, Righteousness, and Regeneration. He always steered a middle course, between a haughty positivity, and a sceptical hesitation. He made it an invariable rule to be thoroughly convinced of the truth and importance of his subject, before he proceeded to state and defend it; but, when he was once in possession of a truth, he held it with the greatest fortitude and tenaciousness. He considered very minutely the state of all his hearers. He did not preach to a promiscuous auditory, as though they were all converted to Christ; nor did he treat true believers as though they were in an unregenerate state.”

“He preached without notes,” says his friend, Dr. Stonehouse, “excepting that he had before him a small leaf of paper, on which were written, in short-hand, the general heads and particulars of the sermon, which he sometimes looked at, and sometimes not. He was very regular in his plans, nor was he very long; from thirty to forty minutes was his usual time; rarely longer. His weakness rendering him, for several months before his death, incapable of speaking any length of time to his congregation, he shortened his discourses, and took a most useful method of inculcating his instructions. After he had expounded his text, and divided his sermon into two or three heads, he would speak briefly, and, at the conclusion of each head, enforce what he had said by a pertinent text of Scripture, desiring his congregation to turn to their Bibles, and double down that text. ‘Now,’ he added, ‘my dear brethren if you forget my sermon, you cannot forget God’s word in this text, unless you wilfully throw aside your Bibles. Show this to your children, or the absent part of your family, when you return home.’ Then he gave a striking exhortation, and, at the end of it, another text for them to double down; so that they always had three texts, in order to their finding of which he paused in the pulpit for two or three minutes. This method had another good effect; it obliged the generality to bring their Bibles along with them, for those who were without Bibles lost the benefit of the texts, and were unemployed, while the great majority, who had theirs, were busy looking for the texts referred to in the sermon.”

“My acquaintance with Mr. Hervey,” writes the Rev. Dr. Haweis, “was only of one day. He was removing from his ministerial labours, just as I was ready to enter upon mine; and, being very desirous of seeing him before his departure to glory, I rode from Oxford to Weston-Favel, a distance of about fifty miles, for that purpose. I found him tall and much emaciated. His preaching was purely evangelical, and very similar to his writings, in beautiful comments on the Scriptures he quoted; but his manner of delivery, in the tone of voice and action, far from the elegance I expected. His church was very small; and, though full, was not remarkably crowded; but the people were very attentive to hear him.”

“Now for the affair, relating to Mr. Ogilvie’s proposal. Tell our amiable and benevolent friend, that, I am deeply sensible of his kindness; but I must beg of him to lay aside all thoughts of procuring for me so undeserved a distinction. I assure you, it would make me blush, and give me much uneasiness, to be addressed under the character of doctor. Never, no never, should I have taken as much as a master’s degree, if I had not been obliged to it, in order to hold what we call ecclesiastical preferment. Preferment? Yes, if rightly understood, it is rightly so called. For what can be a more honourable or exalted office, than to labour for Christ? O that my brethren and I may always understand the word preferment in this truly precious and noble sense!

“It is a great uncertainty, whether I shall be enabled to add another volume. I am told, a very formidable attack is going to be made upon ‘Theron and Aspasio,’ by a hand not well affected to the imputed righteousness of our Lord, but remarkably zealous for the inherent righteousness and perfection of man.”[249]

“Have a care,” he wrote, in a letter, dated November 21, 1757, “Have a care, you do not depreciate your works by inserting anything of mine. My poor character is going to execution. The Reviewers have already put the halter about its neck; if, therefore, you would obtain distinction, or are a candidate for fame, stand clear and detached from such a contemptible scribbler.”

“Incessant and insuperable languors,” he wrote, “unfit me for every business; render every enjoyment unrelishing; and, what is more deplorable, make my temper like the sore, inflamed, ulcerated flesh. Anything that comes unexpected, alarms me; anything that goes cross, vexes me: I am sadly inclined to a peevish humour.”

“I beg, I entreat you, if you value the honour of the Gospel, that, you will dissuade those polite persons you mention, from coming to hear me to-morrow. My spirits sink more and more, I am visited with some returns of my hacking cough; perhaps I shall not be able to speak at all. Such disagreeable circumstances will only expose me, and create in them very unpleasing ideas of what I shall deliver. My imagination is gone. I am sensible my sermons are flat, and my voice spiritless. The poor country people love me tenderly, and, therefore, bear with my infirmities; else, I should no longer attempt to preach, even before them. I am now unfit to appear in the pulpit.”

“I have not had the pleasure of seeing the Critical Review for December; but, I find, from the advertisements in the public papers, that they take Mr. Jenks and his recommender to task. I am not disappointed; I expected no quarter from them.

“You would smile, and be a little surprised, if you were to see what employed my spare hours almost all last week. I never had such an inclination for buffoonery in all my life. It was occasioned by the unworthy and abusive treatment which the Reviewers bestow upon all the most valuable writers that appear in public; and, I verily think, if their insolence can be curbed, it must be done in obedience to that command of unerring wisdom, ‘Answer a fool according to his folly.’”

“My friends, who have seen the piece, absolutely disapprove of it. Dr. Stonehouse says, it is a low, dull, spiritless thing; that, I am no more fit for such kind of writing than a carrier’s horse to run a race. He read it, he tells me, to some ingenious ladies, who have a regard for my character; and they declared, they would come over to Weston, and would, upon their knees, (if it were needful,) solicit me not to publish it. Amidst such a diversity of opinions, how shall I determine?”

“I have sent you Mr. Dry’s apology; though it is written, it has been thrown aside. I have several doubts, whether my pen carries any edge, and whether the edge, if there is any, be like the saw, or the razor. Is it of the former kind? Then it will not answer my purpose, and will not gall and check the adversaries of Christ and His servants, but will give them occasion to triumph more extravagantly. I have also some doubt, whether this kind of writing suits my character, as a minister of Jesus Christ. Is it not the Εὐτραπελία which the apostle condemns and banishes from the conversation of Christians? The principal reason to justify such a manner of address is, that no other method seems to have the least probability of succeeding. All that is solid, these men will evade with a sneer; and all that is serious, they will turn into burlesque. Ridicule is the only vein in which they will bleed.”

“Weston-Favel, August 6, 1757.

“The author is a Scotchman, I presume, because the two volumes were printed at Edinburgh, and he gave orders for a set to be sent me from Edinburgh. He conceals his name, and none that I am acquainted with are able to discover whose work it is. There are some strictures on my performance; but by far the greatest part of the book is very wide from this mark. Some things are truly excellent; and some animadversions upon me are perfectly just; but others (if I mistake not) are unfair and disingenuous. The manner of writing is by no means despicable,—rather elegant and spirited, than coarse or dull. But there is such an implacable bitterness of spirit, and such an unchristian virulence of censure, against many of the best men that ever lived, and best authors that ever wrote, as much surprises and greatly offends me. I think I never saw a notion of faith more lax, nor an idea of grace more exalted, than in this book.”

“Excuse me for keeping your MS. so long. I have been extremely ill. This morning I have been up for four hours, and, in all that time, not able to look into a book, or hold up my head. I fully assent to your opinions; and think you have proved the warrant of a sinner’s application of Christ very satisfactorily. If I live, I should much desire a copy of this your correspondence, when you have revised and finished it. Or do you intend to print it?”

“1758, January 3.

“Weak I am, very weak, and much out of order; insomuch, that I have not been able to go to church since Christmas. Mr. Wesley is angry with me, for speaking too much, and, as he thinks, too openly on the side of election and particular redemption. Pray favour me with your free opinion, and wherever you think he charges me justly, or I have expressed myself improperly, spare not to speak the naked truth. He has lately published a large book, price six shillings, stitched, on the doctrine of Original Sin; great part of which is an abridgment of Dr. Watts’s Ruin and Recovery; and of another treatise, written by Mr. Hebden. In this, he takes occasion to quote two or three passages from Theron and Aspasio, one of which he thus introduces,—‘To explain this a little further, in Mr. Hervey’s words, By federal head I mean, that, as Adam was the first general representative (of this kind, says Aspasio, but Mr. Wesley makes him say) of mankind, Christ was,’ etc. He goes on to the bottom of the page, then turns back to the upper part, and represents me as forming a conclusion in these words, ‘All these expressions demonstrate, that, Adam, as well as Christ, was a representative of all mankind;[253] and, that, what he did, in this capacity, did not terminate in himself, but affected all whom he represented.’ This is a very injurious representation. One sentence is a palpable misquotation. Would it be proper to take any notice of it! I am sometimes apprehensive, that, he would draw me into a dispute about particular redemption. I know, he can say startling and horrid things on this subject; and this, perhaps, might be the most effectual method to prejudice people against my principal point.”

“Saturday Morning, January, 1758. I am transcribing my intended answer to Mr. Wesley for the press, but find it difficult to preserve the decency of the gentleman, and the meekness of the Christian. There is so much unfair dealing running through my opponent’s objections, and the most magisterial air all along supplies the place of argument. Pray for me, dear friend, that I may not betray the blessed cause, by the weakness of my reasoning, nor dishonour it by the badness of my temper. Whether I shall be able to finish this work, is apparently uncertain. My cough seizes me, in the night, like a lion; and leaves me, before the morning, weaker than a babe. It has so totally destroyed my small remainder of strength, that, I am quite unable to preach so much as once on the Lord’s day. I am obliged to beg assistance, and am looking out for a curate, to take the whole business on his hand.”

“Weston, March, 1758.

“I am transcribing, though very slowly, and with a most feeble hand, my remarks, ‘on Mr. Wesley,’ for the press. He urges no argument, either to establish his own opinion, or to overthrow mine; only denies the validity of my reasons.”

“I have a long letter, containing two or three sheets, from Mr. Wesley. It consists of animadversions on my Dialogues and Letters. He wrote me one before, more stinging and sarcastic than this. I have taken no notice of either, being very unwilling to embark in controversy.”

“It is no wonder,” says he, “that, several of my objections, as Mr. Hervey observes, ‘appear more like notes and memorandums, than a just plea to the public.’ It is true. They appear like what they are, like what they were originally intended for. I had no thought of ‘a plea to the public’ when I wrote, but of ‘notes and memorandums to a private man.’”[254]

“Weston-Favel, June 23, 1758.

“I little thought, when I put Mr. Wesley’s manuscript into your hand, that I should see it in print so soon. I took very little notice of it, and let it lie by me for several months, without giving it an attentive consideration. It seemed to me so palpably weak, dealing only in positive assertions and positive denials, that, I could not imagine he would adventure it into the world, without very great alterations. But it is now come abroad, just as you received it, in a two shillings’ pamphlet, entitled, ‘A Preservative from Unsettled Notions in Religion.’ Of this pamphlet, what he has wrote against me, makes only a small part. Now then, the question is, Whether I shall attempt to answer it? Give me your opinion, as you have given me your assistance. Ill I have been, and ill I am; torn almost to pieces by a cough in the night, which admits of no remedy; whatever is taken to assuage, exasperates it. Of all men living, that are not absolutely confined, surely I am the weakest. If by such weakness, the Lord Jesus will vouchsafe to glorify His name, how transparent, how effulgent, will be the glory of His power! Blessed be the Lord, for setting our affections on a happier state! Blessed be His grace, for giving us some knowledge of Jesus, as the way to immortal mansions! There we may be citizens; here only sojourners.”

“I apprehend,” writes Hervey, “that the piece will make a two-shilling pamphlet. I must entreat you to get time for the revisal of all of it. If you could suggest or insert anything to make it edifying and useful, I should be glad. Would it not be proper to print Mr. Wesley’s letter, and prefix it to my answer?”

“Weston, October 19, 1758.

“I am now so very ill, that, I scarce think I shall live to see the approaching Christmas. I spend almost all my time in reading and praying over the Bible. Indeed, indeed, you cannot conceive how the springs of life are relaxed and relaxing. ‘What thou doest, do quickly,’ is for me a proper admonition, as I am so apprehensive of my approaching dissolution.”

“Let me repeat my thanks for the trouble you have taken, and for the assistance you have given me, in relation to my controversy with Mr. Wesley. He is so unfair in his quotations, and so magisterial in his manner, that, I find it no small difficulty to preserve the decency of the gentleman, and the meekness of the Christian, in my intended answer. May our Divine Master aid me in both these instances, or else not suffer me to write at all.”[255]

“Weston-Favel, November 7, 1758.

“I am now reduced to a state of infant weakness, and given over by my physician. My grand consolation is to meditate on Christ; and I am hourly repeating those heart-reviving lines of Dr. Young, in his Fourth Night.

“These amazingly comfortable lines, I dare say, you will treasure up in your heart; and, when you think of them, will think of me. Dear sir, pray for me, that, I may not disgrace my ministry, or dishonour the gospel of my Master, in my last moments, by unbelief—base, provoking unbelief. This probably is the last time you will ever hear from me: for, indeed, it is with some difficulty I have written this; but I shall not fail to remember you, in my intercession for my friends, at the throne of Christ.”

“London, November 29, 1758.

“Dear Sir,—A week or two ago, in my return from Norwich, I met with Mr. Pierce of Bury, who informed me of a conversation, which he had a few days before. Mr. Cudworth, he said, then told him, ‘that, he had prevailed on Mr. Hervey to write against me, who likewise, in what he had written, referred to the book, which he (Mr. Cudworth) had lately published.’

“Every one is welcome to write what he pleases concerning me. But would it not be well for you to remember, that, before I published anything concerning you, I sent it to you in a private letter?—that, I waited for an answer several months, but was not favoured with one line?—that, when at length I published part of what I had sent you, I did it in the most inoffensive manner possible; in the latter end of a larger work, purely designed to preserve those in connection with me from being tossed to and fro by various doctrines? What, therefore, I may fairly expect from my friend, is, to mete to me with the same measure:—to send to me first, in a private manner, any complaint he has against me;—to wait as many months;—and, if I give you none, or no satisfactory answer, then to lay the matter before the world, if you judge it will be to the glory of God.

“But, whatever you do in this respect, one thing I request of you. Give no countenance to that insolent, scurrilous, virulent libel, which bears the name of William Cudworth. Indeed, how you can converse with a man of his spirit, I cannot comprehend. O leave not your old well-tried friends! The new is not comparable to them. I speak not this because I am afraid of what any one can say or do to me; but I am really concerned for you. An evil man has gained the ascendant over you; and has persuaded a dying man, who had shunned it all his life, to enter into controversy as he is stepping into eternity! Put off your armour, my brother! You and I have no moments to spare. Let us employ them all in promoting peace and good-will among men. And may the peace of God keep your heart and mind in Christ Jesus! So prays,

“Your affectionate brother and servant,

“J. Wesley.”[256]

“London, December 19, 1758.

“And is my dear friend indeed about to take his last flight? I dare not wish your return into this vale of tears; but our prayers are constantly ascending to the Father of our spirits, that, you may die in the embraces of a never-failing Jesus, and in all the fulness of an exalted faith. Oh when will my time come! I groan in this tabernacle, being burdened; and long to be clothed with my house from heaven.

“Farewell! My very dear friend, F-a-r-e-w-e-l-l! Yet a little while, and we shall meet,

“There Jesus will reward you for all the tokens of love which you have showed, for His great name’s sake, to

“Yours most affectionately, in our common Lord,

“G. Whitefield.”

“P.S.—God comfort your mother and relations, and thousands and thousands more that will bewail your departure!”[257]

“December 15, 1758.

“Dear Mr. Cudworth,—I am so weak, I am scarce able to write my name.

“J. Hervey.”

“Weston-Favel, December 16, 1758.

“Madam,—I have received your ladyship’s favour, and should have answered it before now; but I have been extremely ill, and still remain so bad, as to be obliged to make use of the pen of another, to inform your ladyship, that I am,

“Madam, your ladyship’s most obliged, and most obedient, humble servant,

“J. Hervey.”

“O! how much Christ has done for me; and how little have I done for Him! If I preached even once a week, it was at last a burden to me. I have not visited the people of my parish as I ought to have done, I have not taken every opportunity of speaking for Christ. But, do not think, that, I am afraid to die; I assure you I am not. I know what my Saviour hath done for me, and I want to be gone.”

“True, doctor, true; the only valuable treasures are in heaven. What would it avail me now to be Archbishop of Canterbury? Disease would show no respect to my mitre. The Gospel is offered to me, a poor country parson, the same as to his grace. Christ makes no difference between us. Oh! why then do ministers neglect the charge of so kind a Saviour, fawn upon the great, and hunt after worldly preferments with so much eagerness, to the disgrace of our orders? These, these are the things, not our poverty or obscurity, which render the clergy so justly contemptible to worldlings. No wonder, the service of our Church, grieved I am to say it, is become such a formal lifeless thing, since it is, alas! too generally executed by persons dead to godliness in all their conversation; whose indifferent religion, and worldly-minded behaviour proclaim the little regard they pay to the doctrines of the Lord, who bought them.”

“Here,” said he, “is the treasure of a Christian. Death is reckoned in this inventory. How thankful am I for death. It is the passage through which I pass to the Lord and giver of eternal life. It frees me from all this misery which I now endure, and which I am willing to endure, as long as God thinks fit. These light afflictions are but for a moment; and then comes an eternal weight of glory. O! welcome, welcome death! Thou mayest well be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian. To live is Christ, but to die is gain.”

“If Seneca is right in placing the praise of goodness above that of greatness, Mr. Hervey has secured to himself, for ages, the noblest kind of estimation. As a man, he was the delight of all who had the happiness to be numbered among his acquaintance. Friendship in him was Christian love, softened with a tenderness peculiar to himself, and placed on a select object; a love accompanied by the most ingenuous confidence, and exercised with unwearied honesty. In every other relation also of the circle in which he moved, he was equally remarkable for his courtesy and virtue.”

“His character and career,” observes a certain writer, “were a contrast to those of Whitefield and of Wesley. He was essentially contemplative; they were eminently practical. His mission was to sanctify the sentimentalism of the day. In him, the breath of life did not blow, as in Wesley, in a strong, steady, all-pervading current; or, as in Whitefield, like a rushing and resistless wind; but in a gentle zephyr, toying with the tresses of the trees, shaking the petals of the flowers and grasses of the grave, yet the minister of convalescence and the messenger of peace.”

“Last century was the first in which pious people cared for style. The Puritans had apple-trees in their orchards, and savoury herbs in their kitchen-gardens, but kept no greenhouse, nor parterre; and, amongst evangelical authors, Hervey was about the first who made his style a study, and who sought, by planting flowers at the gate, to allure passengers into the garden. It is not, therefore, surprising that his ornaments should be more distinguished for profusion and brilliant hues than for simplicity and grace. Most people admire tulips and peonies and martegon-lilies, before they get on to love store-cups and mosses and ferns. We used to admire them ourselves, and felt that summer was not fully blown till we saw it sure and certain in these ample and exuberant flowers. Yes, and even now we feel that it would make a warmer June could we love peonies and martegons once more. Hervey was a man of taste equal to his age, and of a warmth and venturesomeness beyond it. He introduced the poetical and picturesque into religious literature, and became the Shenstone of theology. And, although he did what none had dared before him, the world was ready, and his success was rapid. The “Meditations” evangelized the natural sciences, and embowered the old divinity. There was philosophy in its right mind, and at the Saviour’s feet; and the Lutheran dogma relieved from the academic gown, and keeping healthful holiday in shady woods and by the mountain stream. The tendency of his writing was to open the believer’s eye in kindness and wonder on the works of God, and their effort was to attract to the Incarnate Mystery the heart surprised or softened by these works. We cannot, at the distance of a century, recall the fascination which surrounded them when newly published,—when no similar attempts had forestalled their freshness, and no imitations had blown their vigour into bombast. But we can trace their mellow influence still. We see, that, they have helped to make men of faith men of feeling, and men of piety men of taste. Over the bald and rugged places of systematic orthodoxy, they have trained the sweetest beauties of creation and softest graces of piety, and over its entire landscape have shed an illumination as genial as it is growthful and clear. If his ‘Meditations’ be not purely classical, they are evangelical, and singularly adapted to the whole of man. Their cadence is in our popular preaching still, and may their spirit never quit our Christianity! It is the spirit of securest faith, and sunniest hope, and most seraphic love. And though it may be dangerous for young divines, like Samuel Parr, to copy their descriptive melody, it were a blessed ambition to emulate their author’s large and lightsome piety,—his heart, ‘open to the whole noon of nature,’ and through all its brightness drinking the smile of a present God.”

“When, in December, 1758, I was sent for to Weston, I asked him the evening before he died, ‘what he would have done with the Letters to Mr. Wesley, whether he would have them published after his death?’ He answered, ‘By no means, because he had only transcribed about half of them fair for the press; but, as the corrections and alterations of the latter part were mostly in short-hand, it would be difficult to understand them, especially as some of the short-hand was entirely his own, and others could not make it out; therefore, he said, as it is not a finished piece, I desire you will think no more about it.”

“As these were the last orders of my brother, I thought it right to obey them, and, therefore, I withstood the repeated solicitations of many of his friends, who wanted to have them printed. Notwithstanding the regard I had for the persons who solicited the publication, I could not be persuaded to print the Letters; and they never had appeared in public, with my consent, had not a surreptitious edition of them lately made its way from the press, and were I not under a firm persuasion that will be followed by more.

“As this is the case, I think it my duty to the memory of my late brother to send forth as correct an edition as I possibly can, for as to that which has appeared (from what editor I know not) it is so faulty and incorrect, that, but little judgment can be formed from it, of the propriety and force of my brother’s answers to Mr. Wesley.

“As to the unfairness of publishing my brother’s Letters without my consent, and the injustice to his memory in sending so mangled a performance out under his name, they are too apparent to need any proof; and though, the editor, as I have been informed, gave away the whole impression, so that it is plain lucre was not the motive of his proceeding, and I would charitably hope he did it with a view of benefiting his readers, yet, it is so like doing evil that good may come, as, in my opinion, to be quite unjustifiable.

“I have one thing more to add, which is concerning the seasonableness of the following publication. It may, perhaps, be thought a needless revival of a dispute, which happened long ago, and which is now probably forgotten. In answer to which, I can assure the reader, that, though my brother died December 25, 1758, the controversy did by no means die with him, but still subsists in the daily publication and sale of Mr. Wesley’s ‘Preservative.’ The controversy is, in the most effectual manner, daily and hourly kept alive by Mr. Wesley himself. This proves very sufficiently the seasonableness, and, as things have happened, the expediency of the present appearance of the following Letters in public.”

“These letters were just upon the point of being suppressed, and lost to the Christian world for ever. Soon after Mr. Hervey’s death, they were put into my hands for twelve or fourteen weeks. From a principle of foolish and false delicacy I did not take a copy of them, which I ought to have done. Happy for the Church, the manuscript fell into the hands of three of my friends, who had more sincerity, zeal, and courage than I had, and thus the manuscript was rescued from destruction, and the original copy at last brought to light.”

“Oxon, November 27, 1735.

“Dear Sir,—God grant, that, this letter may find you happily arrived at the wished-for haven!

“O cross of Jesus! what a rock of offence art thou become to the greatest part of Christians! The Christians of the present times are ashamed of Christ; and thou, that art a teacher in Israel, art thou unlearning this sure, this important lesson,—‘All that will live godly in Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution’? You know I have. If I should say, that I have not shrunk from under the cross, I should be a liar. My own bad heart, and the observation I made of the agreeable life of my London friends, occasioned my first abatements in strictness of life and holiness of conversation. What pangs and agonies of heart, I felt at intervals! I laboured for peace; I panted after the love of God; but my heart grew foul, and became a cage of unclean thoughts, for want of mortification and self-denial. I embraced the doctrine of imputed righteousness, and had mean thoughts of works. Almost every day furnished me with new ideas of religion; but, alas! they all savoured too much, I doubt, of flesh and blood. Since my return from London, too, I have been amusing myself with pretty dreams of true religion; nor am I awake yet. Good God! art Thou as mighty to cast into hell now, as Thou wert seventeen hundred years ago? Did the first Christians cry mightily unto Thee to spare them, and did they see it absolutely necessary to work out their salvation with fear and trembling; and dare I, who have been a wretch, and most excessively wicked sinner, think to obtain heaven with less labour and sufferings? O! pray for me, that Satan may not sift me as wheat! I am a worm, and no man, tossed about with every blast of doctrine. Stablish, strengthen, settle me, O my God!

“Mr. Battely has committed his parish to my care. O! that I may feed his sheep, and be not a hireling! Mr. Salmon’s heart is with you; but, he informs me, Mr. Clayton has convinced him, that, he ought to abide where he is, till his parents cease to forbid him going to Georgia. God will never suffer a supply of fit and able men to be wanting to take charge of his work in America.

“At Oxon, we hope to be stirring. The hand of the Lord will uphold our fainting steps. Cease not, dear brother, to pray for us, as we hope always to pray for you. Salute the brethren. We all salute you.

“I am, dear sir, your most obliged and affectionate brother in Christ,

“T. Broughton.”

“The Christian Soldier; or, the Duties of a Religious Life recommended to the Army, from the Example of Cornelius.” Text, Acts x. 1, 2.

“If your Lordship should think the Discourse, to the soldiers,[262] penned with too much emotion of heart, and warmth of expression,—if, as a spiritual watchman, the preacher has lifted up his voice as a trumpet, sounded an alarm, and uttered his words in thunder,—he would meekly desire to be understood with candour, as accommodating himself to the military genius and character, which disdain a cold, lifeless, and unpersuasive harangue. He has indeed used great plainness of speech; and the rather, because no one has a more sincere regard for the profession, or a higher esteem for those excellent persons, who worthily fill the chief and most conspicuous posts in the army, than myself.”

“Cornelius was a devout man, and one that feared God. But are there many of you, my brethren, of this religious disposition? Not to enumerate all the instances of piety and devotion, in which you are grossly and wholly defective, I will mention but a few.

“And, first, in point of sobriety. Alas! my friends, what strangers, nay, what enemies, are most of you to a sober, temperate way of life. How frequently do you, the meaner sort especially, through excess of liquor, reel to and fro, and stagger, and lie in the streets like dead men! How insatiable is your thirst after drink, as if the gratification of that appetite was a joy unspeakable and full of comfort! To this purpose, you assemble by troops in tippling-houses, where you destroy your health, and waste your money and time, in tumults, revellings, and drunkenness. In these houses, you often sit till midnight, and prevent the morning watch, not with hymns and psalms, as David did, but, with blasphemous rant and obscene songs.

“Again, your offences, in point of chastity, are very scandalous, and too notorious to be denied; insomuch, that, the bare sight of you is suspicious and painful to the modest part of the daughters of our land. Having eyes full of uncleanness and adultery, you wander after pernicious deceivers, and give yourselves loose to vile lusts and brutish affections. That I do not charge you wrongfully, in this respect, is too manifest, from the numerous and melancholy instances among you of putrefied bodies and rotten bones.

“Cornelius prayed to God always. But where, alas! shall we find this practice among you? Prayer seems to have been banished from the army, and cursing and swearing brought in, in its room. Most of you, I fear, live without prayer, and pass away days, months, and years, without bending your knees to the God who made you, to the Saviour that redeemed you, or to the Holy Ghost who alone can sanctify your souls, and fit you for heaven. Let me not seem uncharitable in this assertion: I speak truth, when I pass this censure on the most of you: for, if you did accustom yourselves to pray, the ears of good Christians would not be so often stunned with that horrible din of blasphemy, nor shocked with those dreadful oaths, curses, and ungodly speeches, which daily and hourly proceed out of your mouth. It is an unpleasant office, my friends, to reprove you in this public manner; but many of you can bear me witness, that, I have not spared private reproof, when, in my hearing, the name of God has been by you blasphemed. Oh! that the horrid practice of profane cursing and swearing was less frequent in the army! Is it, my friends, a military accomplishment to curse and swear? Do you imagine, that, it adds grace to your speech, or manliness to your looks? Or do you fancy, that, it resembles the roaring of a lion, and renders your presence terrible? Alas! vain men! no wise and good man looks upon a swearer to be a hero, or accounts him a courageous person, because he is a profane and wicked one.”

“Let the serious consideration of hell-torments constrain you to repent, and live like the devout Cornelius. When the judgment is over, and this last sad sentence passed, ‘Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire,’ the souls of the damned will immediately be thrust into a ‘lake which burneth with fire and brimstone;’ ‘where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.’ In this doleful prison of darkness and despair, condemned souls will be tormented with the devil and his angels; and every part of them be racked with the sharpest agony. The whorish and adulterous eye will then be put out in utter darkness. The tongue, that was used to cursing, swearing, and filthy talking, will then be scorched with tormenting flames, and be denied a drop of water to cool its intolerable heat. The body, which used to be defiled with drunkenness and uncleanness, will be burnt up as a firebrand. And, what is still worse, though the pleasures of sin are but for a season, yet, the punishment of it will be without end; for the smoke of the torment of the damned ascends up (saith the Scripture) for ever and ever. The torments of hell are of a never-ending duration; ‘and who,’ my friends, ‘can dwell with everlasting burnings?’ O be wise, and consider these amazing truths, that, ye may flee from the wrath to come. Bid, from this hour, a final farewell to swearing, gaming, drunkenness, and uncleanness. Be sober, be chaste, be temperate, keep holy the Sabbath-day, flee idleness and bad company. Remember you are Christ’s soldiers, and were listed under His banner at your baptism. ‘Turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways.’ The arms of Divine mercy are still open to receive and embrace you. God willeth not the death of sinners, but had rather they should repent and be saved. Our Lord Jesus Christ is ready to own you, and wash you from your sins in His own blood: and the Holy Ghost continually ‘maketh intercession for you, with groanings which cannot be uttered.’”

“London, January 28, 1737.

“Dearest Sir,—My instruments are ready, and I am sat down to write to you; but how shall I accost you? With what matter lengthen out my letter? Surely, I was never more at a loss than now how to address my friend. And yet, the springs of love, that issue from the fountain of my heart towards you, are not dried up. Methinks, I have the same affection and esteem for you as ever; but the resolution you have taken to leave your native country, and the melancholy consequences to the cause of religion, which are likely to ensue therefrom; together with the barren prospects of my inability to dissuade you from your hasty undertaking, at least, till you have taken the advice of a multitude of counsellors (in whom the wise man says there is safety),—all these things put together, besides the weight and variety of my own affairs, so entangle and distress me, that I know not what to communicate to you. But good Mr. Wogan[263] has expressed my sentiments to you in his own. His reasons against your going to Georgia are my reasons, and the reasons of several good men besides; particularly of Sir Erasmus Philips, who laid his commands upon me to dehort you if I could.

“Dear Mr. Whitefield, let me entreat you to examine the reasons. Surely, we ought to consider before we resolve, and to weigh things well before we proceed to put them into execution. Would you be glad to learn what are my objections against your going? Alas! I have many things to say unto you upon that head, but you cannot bear them now. All I would recommend to you at present, is not to harden yourself against what may be modestly and fairly alleged to your leaving England. Let not your friends be accounted your enemies, because they tell you the truth. Lastly, we all observe the golden rule of our Lord, ‘Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment.’

“My dear friend,—for you are so to me,—pardon my plain dealing, and, if it deserves a worse name, yet, pardon it. I conclude my letter with an excellent collect of our Church on behalf of us both:—

“‘O God, forasmuch as without Thee, we are not able to please Thee, mercifully grant that Thy Holy Spirit may, in all things, direct and rule our hearts, through Jesus Christ our Lord.’

“I am, dear sir, your affectionate brother,

“Thomas Broughton.”[264]

“To the Rev. Mr. Whitefield,

“At Mr. Grenville’s, a Grocer, in Wine Street, at Bristol.”

“Mr. Broughton’s great objection was, he could never think, that, I had not faith, who had done and suffered such things. My brother was very angry, and told me, I did not know what mischief I had done by talking thus.”

“1738, April 25. Soon after five, as we were met in our little chapel, Mrs. Delamotte came to us. We sang, and fell into a dispute whether conversion was gradual or instantaneous. My brother was very positive for the latter, and very shocking; and mentioned some late instances of gross sinners believing in a moment. I was much offended at his worse than unedifying discourse. Mrs. Delamotte left us abruptly. I stayed, and insisted, a man need not know when first he had faith. His obstinacy, in favouring the contrary opinion, drove me at last out of the room. Mr. Broughton was only not so much scandalized as myself. After dinner, he and my brother returned to town. I stayed behind, and read them the ‘Life of Mr. Halyburton:’ one instance, but only one, of instantaneous conversion.”

“May 11. I was carried in a chair to Mr. Bray’s” (the Moravian), “who is to supply Böhler’s place. I found his sister” (Bray’s) “in earnest pursuit of Christ; and his wife well inclined to conversion. I had not been here long, when Mr. Broughton called. I hoped to find him altered like myself; but, alas! his time is not yet come. As to M. Turner, he gave her up; ‘but for you, M. Bray,’ said he, ‘I hope you are still in your senses, and not run mad after a faith which must be felt.’ He went on contradicting and blaspheming. I thought it my duty to withstand him, and to confess my want of faith. ‘God help you, poor man,’ he replied; ‘if I could think you have not faith, I am sure it would drive me to despair.’”

“1738, May 14. Several persons called to-day, and were convinced of unbelief. Some of them afterwards went to Mr. Broughton, and were soon made as easy as Satan and their own hearts could wish.”

“May 27. I was much assisted to intercede for poor Mr. Broughton, who continues the very life of all those that oppose the faith.”

“July 11. Tuesday. Mr. Sparks, this morning, asked me whether I would preach for him at St. Helen’s. I agreed to supply Mr. Broughton’s place, who is now at Oxford, arming our friends against the faith. The pain in my side was very violent; but no sooner did I enter the coach than the pain left me, and I preached faith in Christ to a vast congregation, adding much extempore. After sermon, Mrs. Hind, with whom Mr. Broughton lodges, sent for me; owned her agreement to the doctrine, and pressed me to come and talk with Mr. Broughton, who, she could not but believe, must himself agree to it.”

“Immortal and unchangeable God! to what changes is poor, perishing mortality subjected to here below! To-day we live: to-morrow we die. The rising sun beholds us fresh and blooming in life: the setting, motionless, and pale, and sunk into the arms of death. Though in the secret counsels of a wise and gracious Providence, I do not doubt, yet, what a disagreeable turn this melancholy accident has given to my affairs! O, my more than brother! my virtuous and noble friend! let no earthly thing, not even the most endearing and lovely Miranda, be too much the object of your affections. Forgive the preacher. Our God is a jealous God. He is jealous of His love, which often causes Him to use mortifying means to wean us from the love of the creature.

“I can add no more on this too tender subject, except, that, the ever dear to me and devout Aspasia carries herself with inimitable discretion, meekness, nay, Christian cheerfulness and resignation, under this heavy stroke and unpleasant posture of affairs. We both salute you in the tenderest and most hearty manner; and, with eager desires, look forward to the next happy month that promises us the blessing of seeing, and conversing with so choice, so beloved a friend. Be not afraid to step into the house of mourning. We will, for awhile, lay aside our garments of heaviness, and anoint ourselves with the oil of gladness, to welcome you on your arrival in England; and, by prayers and best wishes for your future happiness, we will add our mites to the crown of joy upon a certain affair that promises you an abundance of happiness.

“I am, my dear Theophilus,[267] your friend,

“Thomas Broughton.”

“This pamphlet, which had been chiefly managed by Mr. Broughton, was not published, but industriously circulated among the Religious Societies in the metropolis. Broughton is charged with writing statements in it against the Brethren, altogether at variance with his personal knowledge and conviction, from fear lest the world should look upon him as one of the Brethren. Brother Gambold was deputed to visit him, and point out the consequences of such duplicity; and the result of Gambold’s visit appears in the following memorandum of the 2nd of January, 1742: ‘Mr. Broughton is much prejudiced against us, and he and Ziegenhagen’ (chaplain at the court of George II.) ‘lay their heads together to find fault, and the pamphlet, now printed, is read in all the Religious Societies in town.’”

“I found the poor souls turned out of the way by Mr. Broughton. He told them, ‘There is no knowing our sins forgiven; and, if any could expect it, not such wretches as they, but the good people, who had done so and so. As for his part, he had it not himself; therefore, it was plain they could not receive it.’”

“November 11. This evening, I heard of poor Mr. Broughton’s zeal; but shall not persecute, after his example.”

“November 28. I put out of the Society all the disorderly walkers; who are, consequently, ready to make affidavit of whatever Mr. Broughton pleases.”

“Bartlett’s Buildings. Tuesday, June 28, 1743. Agreed, that, the Rev. Mr. Thomas Broughton and Mr. Watts jointly perform the office of Secretary to this Society during pleasure.

“Agreed, that, Mr. Broughton come immediately to reside in the Society’s house, and open, and give proper answers to, all letters concerning the Society,” &c., &c.

“Tuesday, July 5th, 1743. Ordered, that, Mr. Broughton have twelve Addresses to Prisoners in Debt, and twelve Addresses to Prisoners for Crimes, out of the Society’s store, for the use of poor prisoners.

“July 26, 1746. The Secretary having reported, that, the Highlanders, under confinement in the Tower, were desirous of religious books,—Ordered, that, Bibles, Testaments, Soldiers’ Monitors, and Morning and Evening Prayers be sent them; and, that, the Secretary take care to have them distributed in a proper manner.”

“April 23. At the earnest request of a friend,” (was this Broughton?) “I visited Matthew Henderson, condemned for murdering his mistress. A real, deep work of God seemed to be already begun in his soul. Perhaps, by driving him too fast, Satan has driven him to God; to that repentance which shall never be repented of.”

The Danger of great Cities to Servants.—“As these great cities entertain, so they ruin no small number of servants, who soon exchange the simplicity of the country for the foppery of the town. Many of these, if they brought a little religion with them hither, part with it soon, and quickly arrive at more wickedness than, perhaps, they will ever get rid of. Thus the town proves a school of corruption to them, wherein they learn everything that is evil. Here they lose their good principles; their morals are stained; their heart grows bad; and they stand ready prepared for the worst of crimes. With this wretched furniture of vices, how can they make good servants? Nay, what can prevent their turning out very bad ones? They are under no religious restraint; who then will vouch for their veracity? They have cast off the fear of God; where then is their reverence for their master?”

On Drunkenness.—“No person addicted to this vice can answer for himself, but that, in his liquor, he may commit the most outrageous acts of violence. Being deprived of his reason, and the grace of God having forsaken him, he is ripe for the most daring crimes. If you suffer yourselves to be enflamed with drink, and overcome thereby, farewell every tender impression! every spark of humanity and gratitude! You are no longer a man, but a beast,—mad and furious, fierce, and ungovernable,—and no fitter to be trusted than a tiger.”

On Lewdness.—“You cannot be a companion of these merciless destroyers of soul and body without running into great expense. And, where will you find money to satisfy these ravenous harpies? How these abandoned wretches assemble, as it were, in troops, and, with more than masculine boldness, and no less than hellish assurance, assault the modesty of every one they meet! How, in contempt of the laws of God and their country, they attempt to decoy and ruin all such as have not grace and resolution to withstand them! These are the instruments of destruction to so many of our raw and unguarded youth, and cause numbers of them to bring down the grey hairs of their parents with sorrow to the grave. The neglect of severe discipline and painful correction, emboldens these transgressors to sin with a high hand, and even to act their abominations before the sun. Whence, our streets and alleys swarm with these execrable servants of the devil, who are continually carrying on a trade of sin; who make it their livelihood; and who subsist by the price of slaughtered souls.”

“I think, in the year 1735, we were fourteen or fifteen in number, all of one heart and of one mind.”[275]

“Pembroke College, September 3, 1736.

“Reverend and dear Sir,—Your kind concern and repeated endeavours for my spiritual good, while at Oxford, will not suffer me to think, that, you have utterly lost all remembrance of me, though you have given me no testimony of your affection since your leaving England. What shall I conjecture this silence to be owing to? I will not inquire; but rather take it as a providential punishment and scourge, for my slow and slender proficiency under the blessed means I enjoyed of your’s, and your dear brother’s conversation.

“Too, too late, alas! do I see how dreadfully I was wanting to myself in not heartily embracing so glorious an opportunity of laying in a stock of spiritual courage, sufficient to have carried me victoriously on through a host of enemies. How does my base ingratitude to my Heavenly Benefactor, like a frightful spectre, present itself before me, for rejecting those kind offers of health and salvation! And for not disengaging myself from that bane of our spiritual progress,—the fear of the world,—which was always as fetters upon my feet, and manacles on my hands! O! through what a waste of uncomfortable, barren, and dry ground,—through what a wilderness of sorrows, perplexities, and distress, have I not been led, under the conduct of this delusive spirit; when the holy and loving Spirit of God would have led me into pleasant pastures, and refreshed my thirsty soul with the waters of comfort, and conducted me into those paths, which are pleasantness and peace. But, blessed be God! for the sense of these things, though, indeed, not till driven to it, by the pungency of the affliction, by the misery and torment of a divided state of heart, and the perpetual conflicts I endured. Blessed be the most high God! I am once again, I trust, in the strait and narrow way, that leadeth to the kingdom of heaven; from which that I may never stir a foot, till the cord of life is loosed, I dare say, you will not cease earnestly to request at the throne of grace.

“I am sorry, I deferred writing till it was too late to say more; though I cannot help telling you, before I conclude, that, I sit every evening with Mr. Hervey,—that great champion of the Lord of Hosts; and, that, I read, five times a week, to a Religious Society, in St. Ebbs’ parish.

“Dear Sir, God Almighty prosper all your endeavours for the good of souls! Depend upon it, in due time, you will reap, and that abundantly, if you faint not. My prayers are with you. O! that my body was there too, that, I might make up what I have lost, under such shining examples. Do, dear Sir, write me a long letter, by the first opportunity. Adieu! God and the Angels be with you!

“I am yours, my dear Brother, sincerely in Christ,

“W. Chapman.

“My Lady Cocks and sisters are now in Oxford; and they desire their best services to you, and wish you good luck in the name of the Lord.”

“Mr. Kinchin’s parish, consisting chiefly of poor and illiterate people, my proud heart, at first, could not well brook. I would have given all the world for one of my Oxford friends, and mourned, for lack of them, like a dove. But, upon giving myself to prayer, and reading Mr. Law’s excellent character of Ouranius, in his Serious Call to a Devout Life, my mind was reconciled to such conversation as the place afforded me. Mr. Kinchin loved his people, and was beloved by them. I prosecuted his plan, and generally divided the day into three parts, eight hours for study and retirement, eight hours for sleep and meals, and eight hours for reading Prayers, catechising, and visiting the parish. The profit I reaped, by these exercises, and conversing with the poor country people, was unspeakable. I soon began to be as much delighted with their artless conversation, as I had been formerly with the company of my Oxford friends; and frequently learnt as much by an afternoon’s visit, as in a week’s study.”

“1738. Tuesday, March 14. I set out,” from Oxford, “for Manchester, with Mr. Kinchin, Fellow of Corpus Christi, and Mr. Fox, late a prisoner in the city prison. Between five and six, we called at Chapel-on-the-Heath; where lived a poor man, sometime prisoner in the castle of Oxford. He was not at home; but his wife came to us, to whom Mr. Kinchin spoke a few words, which so melted her heart, that she burst out into tears, and we went on rejoicing and praising God.

“About eight, it being rainy and very dark, we lost our way; but, before nine, came to Shipston, having rode over, I know not how, a narrow foot-bridge, which lay across a deep ditch near the town. After supper, I read prayers to the people of the inn, and explained the Second Lesson; I hope not in vain.”

“The next day, we dined at Birmingham, and, soon after we left it, were reproved for our negligence there, in letting those, who attended us, go without either exhortation or instruction, by a severe shower of hail. At Hedgeford, about five, we endeavoured to be more faithful; and all who heard seemed serious and affected.”

“In the evening, we came to Stafford. The mistress of the house joined with us in family prayer. The next morning, one of the servants appeared deeply affected, as did the ostler, before we went. Soon after breakfast, stepping into the stable, I spake a few words to those who were there. A stranger, who heard me, said, ‘Sir, I wish I was to travel with you;’ and, when I went into the house, followed me, and began abruptly, ‘Sir, I believe you are a good man, and I come to tell you a little of my life.’ The tears stood in his eyes all the time he spoke; and we hoped not a word which was said to him was lost.

“At Newcastle, whither we came about ten, some, to whom we spoke at our inn, were very attentive; but a gay young woman waited on us, quite unconverted: however, we spoke on. When we went away, she fixed her eyes, and neither moved nor said one word, but appeared as much astonished as if she had seen one risen from the dead.

“Coming to Holms-Chapel about three, we were surprised at being shown into a room where a cloth and plates were laid. Soon after, two men came in to dinner. Mr. Kinchin told them, if they pleased, that gentleman would ask a blessing for them. They stared, and, as it were, consented; but sat still while I did it, one of them with his hat on. We began to speak on turning to God, and went on, though they appeared utterly regardless. After a while, their countenances changed, and one of them stole off his hat, and, laying it down behind him, said, all we said was true; but he had been a grievous sinner, and not considered it as he ought; but he was resolved, with God’s help, now to turn to Him in earnest. We exhorted him and his companion, who now likewise drank in every word, to cry mightily to God, that, He would ‘send them help from His holy place.’

“Being faint in the evening, I called at Altrincham, and there lit upon a Quaker, well skilled in, and therefore, as I soon found, sufficiently fond of controversy. After an hour spent therein, perhaps not in vain, I advised him to dispute as little as possible; but rather follow after holiness, and walk humbly with his God.”

“Early in the morning, we left Manchester, taking with us Mr. Kinchin’s brother, for whom we came, to be entered at Oxford. We were fully determined to lose no opportunity of awakening, instructing, or exhorting, any whom we might meet with on our journey. At Knutsford, where we first stopped, all we spake to thankfully received the word of exhortation. But, at Talk-on-the-Hill, where we dined, she with whom we were was so much of a gentlewoman, that, for near an hour, our labour seemed to be in vain. However, we spoke on. Upon a sudden, she looked as one just awakened out of sleep. Every word sunk into her heart. Nor have I seen so entire a change, both in the eyes, face, and manner of speaking, of any one in so short a time.

“About five, Mr. Kinchin riding by a man and woman double-horsed, the man said, ‘Sir, you ought to thank God it is a fair day; for, if it rained, you would be sadly dirty with your little horse.’ Mr. Kinchin answered, ‘True; and we ought to thank God for our life, and health, and food, and raiment, and all things.’ He then rode on, Mr. Fox following; the man said, ‘Sir, my mistress would be glad to have some more talk with that gentleman.’ We stayed, and when they came up began to search one another’s hearts. They came to us again in the evening, at our inn at Stone, where I explained both to them and many of their acquaintance, who were come together, that great truth,—godliness hath the promise both of this life, and of that which is to come.

“Tuesday, March 21. Between nine and ten, we came to Hedgeford. Just then, one was giving an account of a young woman, who had dropped down dead there the day before. This gave us a fair occasion to exhort all that were present, ‘so to number’ their ‘days,’ that, they might apply their ‘hearts unto wisdom.’

“In the afternoon, one overtook us, whom we soon found more inclined to speak than to hear. However, we spoke, and spared not. In the evening, we overtook a young man, a Quaker, who afterwards came to us, to our inn at Henley, whither he sent for the rest of his family, to join with us in prayer; to which I added, as usual, the exposition of the Second Lesson. Our other companion went with us a mile or two in the morning; and then not only spoke less than the day before, but took in good part a serious caution against talkativeness and vanity.

“An hour after, we were overtook by an elderly gentleman, who said he was going to enter his son at Oxford. We asked, ‘At what college?’ He said, he did not know; having no acquaintance there on whose recommendation he could depend. After some conversation, he expressed a deep sense of the providence of God; and told us, he knew God had cast us in his way, in answer to his prayer. In the evening, we reached Oxford, rejoicing in our having received so many fresh instances of that great truth, ‘In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.’”

“Soon after my return to England,” he writes, “I had a meeting with Messrs. Ingham, Stonehouse, Hall, Hutchins, Kinchin, and a few other clergymen, who all appeared to be of one heart, as well as of one judgment, resolved to be Bible-Christians at all events; and, wherever they were, to preach, with all their might, plain old Bible Christianity.”[279]

“You have been, I hope, an instrument, under God, of reclaiming me. I certainly was in a very unhappy state when you were here. God will recompense you for your prayers and kind offices. May my good God pour down the choicest of His blessings upon you, your mother, brothers, and sisters, and give us all grace, to strive and struggle against our sins. I beg you to join with me, in praying God to show forth His power in me. What a frail creature am I? I am afraid, I am sorely afraid, of falling back. What shall I do? What shall I do? O pray, I may put my whole trust in God, who is able and willing to help me.”[280]

“May 2, 1738.

“Rev. and dear Sir,—My Lord and my God has made His servant a minister of the Gospel of His Son. He has committed to my care many immortal souls. And I am but a little child. I know not how to go out, or come in. Pray, therefore, earnestly for me, that, God would give His servant an understanding heart, to lead and instruct His people; that, I may discern between what is good and bad; for who is able to walk discreetly and uprightly before such a worldly-minded and refractory people? I beg the prayers and directions of my friends.

“My sister is much mended in health. She has received much benefit from you, under God, as to her spiritual concerns.

“Pray, write speedily to your sincere friend and servant,

“C. Kinchin.”[281]

“I urged upon each my usual question, ‘Do you deserve to be damned?’ Mrs. Platt, with the utmost vehemence, cried out, ‘Yes, I do, I do!’ I prayed, that, if God saw there any contrite soul, He would fulfil His promise, of coming and making His abode with it. ‘If Thou hast sent Thy Spirit to reprove any sinner of sin, in the name of Jesus Christ, I claim salvation for that sinner.’ Again Mrs. Platt broke out into strong cries, but of joy, not sorrow, being quite overpowered with the love of Christ. I asked her, if she believed in Jesus. She answered in full assurance of faith. We sang and rejoiced over her (she still continued kneeling); but her voice was heard above ours. Mr. Kinchin asked, ‘Have you forgiveness of sins?’ ‘I am perfectly assured I have.’ ‘Have you the earnest of the Spirit in your heart?’ ‘I have; I know I have: I feel it now within.’ Her answers to these and the like questions, were expressive of the strongest confidence, to the great encouragement of all present.”[282]

“At my return to Mrs. Fox’s, I found our dear brother Kinchin, just come from Dummer. We rejoiced, and gave thanks, and prayed, and took sweet counsel together; the result of which was, instead of setting out for London, as I designed, I set out for Dummer, there being no person to supply his church on Sunday.”

“Dummer, October 9, 1739.

“My dear Brother,—I am just setting out for Oxford, and thence, probably, for London, in order to print my sermon, on the Necessity and Work of the New Birth. I have revised and enlarged it, have made a Preface, and also written a Dedication to the vice-chancellor, Dr. Mather, the Heads of Houses, with their Societies. Mr. Hutchins has perused the whole. I shall have him at Dummer while I am absent. I asked the vice-Chancellor for the use of the University press; but his answer was, that, he could not consent to it. I have written him a letter, desiring him to peruse the discourse, before he absolutely refuses the press; but he has made no reply. I propose, therefore, to wait upon him at Oxford, to know whether he received my letter. I also intend to ask Mr. Gambold and Mr. Wills to peruse my sermon. If I had any opportunity, I would be glad for you to see it too. I desire your prayers, and the prayers of your friends around you, that, God will bless my journey, and my design in publishing the discourse.

“We all join in love to you, and all around you; and constantly pray for you, and desire your prayers. If you write within a week, direct to Mr. Fox’s.

“Your unworthy brother,

“C. Kinchin.”

“1742. January 4. This day, I understand, poor Charles Kinchin died.

“1720. December 8. Richard Hutchins, B.A., was admitted to the rights and privileges of a Fellow of Lincoln College.”

“1739. November 6. Mr. Hutchins was chosen Sub-Rector.”

“1742. November 6. Mr. Hutchins was chosen Bursar and Librarian.”

“1755. July 9. Richard Hutchins, D.D., Fellow in one of the Founder’s Fellowships for the Diocese of Lincoln, was, on this day, unanimously elected Rector of this College. And straightway a letter was drawn up, in the very words prescribed by the College Statutes, in order to its being sent to the Lord Bishop of Lincoln, sealed with the college seal, and subscribed by all the electors present, certifying their said election to his lordship, and praying him to admit to the Rectorship of this College the said Richard Hutchins, Sub-Rector.”

“Dr. Richard Hutchins, our late worthy Rector, departed this life, on Friday, 10th August, 1781.”

“The Rev. Christopher Atkinson, born in the parish of Windermere, Westmoreland, April, 1713, was inducted Vicar of Thorp-Arch and Walton, in July, 1749.”[284]

“My father walked out of doors to the very last, even in the morning of the day he died. I said to him, ‘I hope, sir, your confidence is in the Lord Jesus Christ.’ He answered, ‘Entirely. I have no hope or confidence but in Him only. I am very sensible, that, I am, in myself, a poor, guilty, helpless sinner before God. I find, I have been guilty of every sin. There is not a commandment which I have not broken; but the Lord Jesus Christ is my Saviour. His blood is sufficient for me. I rest upon His promises, and, (laying his head upon his breast and looking up) ‘I feel the Spirit of God now supporting me.’

“Two of his twelve children had not arrived; but, fearing his understanding might begin to fail, I asked him if he would like my mother and the rest of his children to be called up, that we might pray together, and receive his blessing. He immediately assented, and desired me to pray. The scene was very affecting. He seemed to be very fervent; and, when the prayer was over, he tenderly and affectionately saluted us all, and invoked the blessing of God in Christ Jesus. Soon after, he spoke to me about the place in the churchyard, where he wished his body to be laid, and then said, ‘Oh, son, I now feel the vanity of life. We often talk in health about its emptiness; but this is the trying hour. I now experience it. My God! what a condition should I now be in, if the business of eternity was unbegun!’ And, then, he proceeded to speak of Christ and the happiness of heaven. His voice faltered; but, at one time, I heard him say ‘Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly;’ and, at another, ‘I have finished my course, I have fought the good fight. Henceforth, there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me in that day.’ He next addressed his children, and said, ‘My dear children, whatever you have seen faulty in me, be careful to avoid; if you have seen anything praiseworthy, that imitate and pursue. But, oh! mind the one thing needful. Let God be your portion. Seek unto Him through the gracious Redeemer, and doubt not but He will provide for you what is necessary in this world. My dear wife, trust in God. O, my God, look down upon this my family, and let Thy blessing rest upon them! Guide them by Thy blessed Spirit!’

“He continued praying, in a kind of feeble murmur until about the three last breaths he drew; and then, at half-past four o’clock, on Monday afternoon, July 11, 1774, expired, aged sixty-one years, leaving behind him a wife and twelve children.

“His last words to one of his daughters were, ‘My love, would you recall me from happiness?’”

“God has given me two fair escapes for life within these few weeks. The first was when my old nag fell with me, trailed me in the stirrups by one foot, and trod upon the other, yet never hurt me.

“The other escape was much greater. On Monday week, at Burringham Ferry, we were driven down with a fierce stream and wind, and fell foul against a keel. Two of our horses were pitched overboard, and the boat was filled with water. I was just preparing to swim for life” (he was then sixty-six years of age), “when John Whitelamb’s long legs and arms swarmed up into the keel, and lugged me in after him. My mare was swimming a quarter of an hour; but, at last, we all got safe to land. Help to praise Him who saves both man and beast.”

“Reads one English, one Latin, and one Greek book alternately; and never meddles with a new one, in any of the languages, till he has ended the old one. If he goes on as he has begun, I dare take upon me to say, that, by the time he has been here four or five years, there will not be such an one, of his standing, in Lincoln College, perhaps not in the University of Oxford.”

“John Whitelamb wants a gown much, and I am not rich enough to buy him one at present If you are willing that my twenty shillings (that were) should go toward that, I will add ten to them, and let it lie till I have tried my interest with my friends to make up the price of a new one.”

“January 14, 1734.

“My Lord,—The small rectory of Wroot, in the diocese and county of Lincoln, is in the gift of the Lord Chancellor, and, more than seven years since, was conferred on Samuel Wesley, rector of Epworth. It lies in our low levels, and is often overflowed. During the time I have had it, the people have lost the fruits of the earth to that degree, that it has hardly brought me £50 per annum, omnibus annis; and, some years, not enough to pay my curate there his salary of £30 a year.

“This living, by your lordship’s permission and favour, I would gladly resign to one Mr. John Whitelamb, born in the neighbourhood of Wroot, where his father and grandfather lived; when I took him from among the scholars of a charity school (founded by one Mr. Travers, an attorney), brought him to my house, and educated him there, where he was my amanuensis for four years, in transcribing my ‘Dissertations on the Book of Job,’ now well advanced in the press; and was employed in drawing my maps and figures for it, as well as we could by the light of nature. After this, I sent him to Oxford, to my son John, Fellow of Lincoln College; under whom he made such proficiency, that he was, the last summer, admitted, by the Bishop of Oxford, into deacon’s orders, and became my curate at Epworth, while I came up to town to expedite the printing of my book.

“Since then, I gave my consent to his marrying one of my seven daughters, and they are married accordingly; and, though I can spare little more with her, yet I would gladly give them a little glebe land at Wroot, where, I am sure, they will not want springs of water. But they love the place, though I can get nobody else to reside on it.

“If I do not flatter myself, he is indeed a valuable person, of uncommon brightness, learning, piety, and indefatigable industry; always loyal to the king, zealous for the Church, and friendly to our dissenting brethren. For the truth of this character I will be answerable to God and man.

“If, therefore, your lordship will grant me the favour to let me resign my living unto him, and please to confer it on him, I shall always remain, your lordship’s most bounden, most grateful, and most obedient servant,

“Samuel Wesley.”

“Epworth, December 7, 1734.

“Dear Sir,—I cannot express how much I am obliged by your last kind and instructive letter concerning the affairs of Georgia. I could not read it without sighing, when I reflected on my own age and infirmities, which made such an expedition utterly impracticable for me. Yet, my mind worked hard about it; and it is not impossible but Providence may have directed me to such an expedient as may prove more serviceable to your colony than I should ever have been.”

“I consented to his marrying one of my daughters, there having been a long and intimate friendship between them. But neither he nor I were so happy as to have them live long together; for she died in childbed of her first child. He was so inconsolable at her loss, that I was afraid he would soon have followed her; to prevent which, I desired his company here at my own house, that he might have some amusement and business, by assisting me in my cure during my illness.

“It was then, sir, I received the favour of yours, and let him see it for diversion; more especially, because John Lyndal and he had been fellow-parishioners and schoolfellows at Wroot, and had no little kindness one for the other. I made no great reflection on the thing at first; but, soon after, I found he had thought often upon it; was very desirous to go to Georgia himself; and wrote the enclosed letter to me on the subject. As I knew not of any person more proper for such an undertaking, I thought the least I could do was to send the letter to your honour, who would be so very proper a judge of the affair; and, if you approve, I shall not be wanting in my addresses to my Lord Bishop of London, or any other, to forward the matter as far as possible.

“As for his character, I shall take it upon myself to say, he is a good scholar, a sound Christian, and a good liver. He has a very happy memory, especially for languages, and a judgment and intelligence not inferior. My eldest son, at Tiverton, has some knowledge of him; my two others, his tutor at Lincoln, and my third, of Christ Church, have been long and intimately acquainted with him; and, I doubt not, they will give him, at least, as just a character as I have done.

“And here I shall drop the matter till I have the honour of hearing again from you, ever remaining your honour’s most sincere and most obliged friend and servant,

“Samuel Wesley.”

“1742, Sunday, June 13. At seven I preached at Haxey, on, ‘What must I do to be saved?’ Thence I went to Wroot, of which, as well as Epworth, my father was rector for several years. Mr. Whitelamb offering me the church, I preached, in the morning, on, ‘Ask, and it shall be given you;’ in the afternoon, on the difference between the righteousness of the law and the righteousness of faith. But the church could not contain the people, many of whom came from far; and, I trust, not in vain. At six, I preached in Epworth churchyard to a vast multitude gathered together from all parts, on the beginning of our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount. I continued among them for near three hours, and yet we scarce knew how to part.”

“While I was speaking several dropped down as dead; and such a cry was heard of sinners groaning for the righteousness of faith as almost drowned my voice. But many of these soon lifted up their heads with joy, and broke out into thanksgiving, being assured that they now had the desire of their soul—the forgiveness of their sins.”

“June 11, 1742.

“Dear Brother,—I saw you at Epworth, on Tuesday evening. Fain would I have spoken to you, but that I am quite at a loss how to address or behave. Your way of thinking is so extraordinary,[286] that, your presence creates an awe, as if you were an inhabitant of another world. God grant you and your followers may always have entire liberty of conscience! Will you not allow others the same? Indeed, I cannot think as you do, any more than I can help honouring and loving you.

“Dear sir, will you credit me? I retain the highest veneration for you. The sight of you moves me strangely. My heart overflows with gratitude. I feel, in a higher degree, all that tenderness and yearning of bowels with which I am affected towards every branch of Mr. Wesley’s family. I cannot refrain from tears when I reflect, ‘This is the man, who, at Oxford, was more than a father to me. This is he whom I have there heard expound, or dispute publicly, or preach at St. Mary’s, with such applause. And Oh that I should ever add, whom I have lately heard preach at Epworth!’[287]

“I am quite forgot. None of the family ever honours me with line! Have I been ungrateful? I appeal to sister Patty; I appeal to Mr. Ellison,[288] whether I have or no. I have been passionate, fickle, a fool, but I hope I shall never be ungrateful.

“Dear sir, is it in my power to serve or oblige you in any way? Glad I should be, that, you would make use of me. God open all our eyes, and lead us into truth, whatever it be.

“John Whitelamb.”[289]

Wroot, September 2, 1742.

“Dear Brother,—I must make bold to give you that title. I was informed, that, you have entertained so hard an opinion of me as scarcely to hear me named with patience. This made me fear, the sight of me would not be agreeable. However, I have ventured to write, lest I should confirm that opinion by a behaviour that seems to show neglect and ingratitude.

“It is probably not in my power to alter your sentiments of me; but there is a day, which you and I expect, when it will appear, that, J. Whitelamb was never either ungrateful, or vicious; though, by the heat of youthful blood, and the want of experience of the world, he has been betrayed into very great follies.

“I had the happiness and honour (for I account it both) of seeing and conversing with my brother John, when he was last over. He behaved to me truly like himself. I found in him, what I have always experienced heretofore, the gentleman, the friend, the brother, the Christian.

“Dear sir, command me in anything, whereby I can show my regard to you, or the family; provided conscience be not concerned. Alas! that I should be forced to distinguish Mr. Wesley, from the preacher! My brother John demanded[290] my pulpit. By the authority of a tutor, and one to whom I have so great obligations, he has the disposal of whatever is mine. However, I find, by the outcry it caused, that it gives very great offence. I know not what measures may be taken against me, this triennial visitation; nor am I so solicitous about it, as I am uneasy that the interest of religion and the public peace should, in the least, suffer by my means.

“For, to be frank, I cannot but look upon your doctrines as of ill consequence. Consequence, I say; for, take them nakedly in themselves, and nothing seems more innocent, nay, good and holy. Suppose we grant, that, in you and the rest of the leaders, who are men of sense and discernment, what is called the seal and testimony of the Spirit, is something real; yet, I have great reason to think, that, in the generality of your followers, it is merely the effect of a heated fancy.

“So much for dispute; and I beg you will forgive me it. Oh that we could so have met, as that there should have been no contention, but in loving one another!

“I promised my tutor to write to him. Since then, I have had a dangerous illness. I am scarce well recovered; and, besides, it has left behind such a drowsy disposition, as I have not yet had resolution to conquer. I hope to fulfil my promise shortly. I have endeavoured to lay myself quite open to truth; and this (with shame I ought to say it) has cost me some pains. My dear mother Wesley, and poor sister Kezzy are gone.[291] God of the spirits of all flesh, grant us all to meet in a happy eternity!

“Dear brother, are you in earnest in what you teach? I cannot persuade any of my friends that you are. If you be, give me your prayers. If not, do not, as you have formerly done, ridicule me for being too religious. You little thought, when you laughed at me, for being shocked at your gay discourse, that you yourself should come to maintain the very notions which I had then.

“I am, your obliged and most affectionate brother,

“John Whitelamb.”[292]

“1769, October 4. How long is it since Mr. Whitelamb died? What disease did he die of? Did he lie ill for any time? Do you know any circumstances preceding or attending his death? Oh, why did he not die forty years ago, while he knew in whom he believed? Unsearchable are the counsels of God, and His ways past finding out.

“John Wesley.”[294]

“In memory of John Whitelamb, Rector of this Parish thirty-five years. Buried 29th of July, 1769, aged 62 years. Worthy of imitation. This at the cost of Francis Wood, Esq., 1772.”

“I heartily join with your small Society in all their pious and charitable actions, which are intended for God’s glory; and am glad to hear that Mr. Clayton and Mr. Hall have met with desired success. You do well to wait on the Bishop; though, if he be a good man, I cannot think it in the power of any one to prejudice him against you. Your arguments against horse-races do certainly conclude against masquerades, balls, plays, operas, and all such light and vain diversions, which, whether the gay people of the world will own it or no, do strongly confirm and strengthen the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life; all of which we must renounce, or renounce our God and hope of eternal salvation. I will not say, it is impossible for a person to have any sense of religion, who frequents those vile assemblies; but I never, throughout the course of my long life, knew so much as one serious Christian that did; nor can I see how a lover of God can have any relish for such vain amusements.”[295]

“I cannot think Mr. Hall does well in refusing an opportunity of doing so much service to religion, as he certainly might do, if he accepted the living he is about to refuse. Surely, there never was more need of orthodox, sober divines in our Lord’s vineyard, than there is now; and why a man of his extraordinary piety, and love to souls, should decline the service in this critical juncture, I cannot conceive. But this is none of my business.”[296]

“1784, August 31. Many years ago, Mr. Hall, then strong in faith, believed God called him to marry my youngest sister. He told her so. She fully believed him, and none could convince one or the other to the contrary. I talked with her about it; but she had ‘so often made it matter of prayer, that, she could not be deceived.’ In a week, he dropped her, courted her elder sister, and, as soon as was convenient, married her.”[298]

“I intended not to write till I could give you an account of Mr. Hall’s affair; but it is needless, because, I believe, he won’t do anything without your approbation. I am entirely of your opinion, that, we ought to ‘endeavour after perfect resignation’; and I have learned to practise this duty in one particular, which, I think, is of the greatest importance in life, namely, marriage. I am as indifferent as it is lawful for any person to be, whether I ever change my state or not; because, I think a single life is the more excellent way; and there are also several reasons why I rather desire to continue as I am. One is, because, I desire to be entirely disengaged from the world; but the chief is, I am so well apprized of the great duty a wife owes to her husband, that, I think it is almost impossible she should ever discharge it as she ought. But I can scarce say, I have the liberty of choosing; for my relations are continually soliciting me to marry. I shall endeavour to be as resigned and cheerful as possible to whatever God is pleased to ordain for me.”

“Brother Hall’s is a black story. There was no great likelihood of his being a favourite with me: his tongue is too smooth for my roughness, and rather inclines me to suspect than believe. Indeed, I little suspected the horrid truth; but, finding him on the reserve, I thought, he was something like Rivington, and feared me as a jester; which is a sure sign either of guilt on the one hand, or pride on the other. It is certainly true of that marriage; it will not, and it cannot come to good. He is now at a curacy in Wiltshire, near Marlborough. I have no correspondence with Kez.: I did design it after reading yours; but the hearing, that, she is gone to live with Patty and her husband made me drop my design.”

“1736, December 6. I spent an hour at my uncle’s, equally welcome and unexpected. They informed me, my brother Hall was gone to a curacy, very melancholy, and impatient at the mention of Georgia; and that my sister Kezzy was gone to live with him.

“Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agnæ.”

“Mr. Hall and his wife are very good to me. He behaves like a gentleman and a Christian; and my daughter with as much duty and tenderness as can be expressed.”[301]

“1737, December 29. I supped in Salisbury, at my brother Hall’s.”

“I have been informed, that, Mr. Hall intends to remove his family to London, hath taken a house, and I must (if it please God I live) go with them.”[302]

“I was minded to rebuke her; but God gave me uncommon recollection, and command of spirit, so that, I sat quiet, and replied not. I offered, at last, to sing, which she allowed, but did not join. Bray pressed me to stay, and hear her pray. They knelt; I stood. She prayed most pompously. I durst not say, Amen. She concluded with a horrible, hellish laugh; and showed violent displeasure against our baptized Quaker, saying, ‘God had showed her, He would destroy all outward things.’”

“She flew upon us like a tigress; tried to outface me; and insisted, that, she was immediately inspired. I prayed. She cried, ‘The devil was in me. I was a fool, a blockhead, a blind leader of the blind.’ She roared outrageously; said, it was the lion in her. (True; but not the Lion of Judah.) She would come to the Society in spite of me: if not, they would all go down. I asked, ‘Who is on God’s side? Who for the old Prophets rather than the new? Let them follow me.’ They followed me into the preaching room. I prayed, and expounded the lesson with extraordinary power.”

“Bray and Bowers were much humbled. All agreed to disown the prophetess. Brother Hall proposed expelling Shaw and Wolf. We consented, nem. con., that, their names should be erased out of the Society-book, because they disowned themselves members of the Church of England.”

“1739, September 3. I talked largely with my mother, who told me, that, till a short time since, she had scarce heard such a thing mentioned as the having God’s Spirit bearing witness with our spirit: much less did she imagine, that, this was the common privilege of all true believers. ‘Therefore,’ said she, ‘I never durst ask it for myself. But two or three weeks ago, while my son Hall was pronouncing those words, in delivering the cup to me,—The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee,—the words struck my heart, and I knew, God, for Christ’s sake, had forgiven me all my sins.’”

“1740, May 14. I found Mr. Hall at Fetter Lane, asking them, whether they would try their spirits by the Word, or the Word by their spirits. I enforced the question, which they strove to evade. Rabbi Hutton[303] forbade their answering me. I warned the few remaining brethren to beware of the leaven of stillness; showed them the delusion of those who had cast off the ordinances, and confined the faith to themselves only; I foretold the dreadful consequences of their enthusiasm; set the case of Gregor before their eyes; besought, entreated, conjured them not to renounce the means, or deny the Lord that bought them; read a letter from one who had been strongly tempted to leave off the Sacrament, but, in receiving, was powerfully convinced that her dissuader was the devil. Hodges, Hall, and Howel Harris confirmed my words. Others were hereby emboldened to bear their testimony to the divine ordinances. By the strength of the Lord, we have stood between the living and the dead; and the plague, we trust, is stayed.”

“1742, Sunday, October 31. Several of the leaders desired to have an hour’s conversation with me. I found, they were greatly perplexed about ‘want of management, ill-husbandry, encouraging idleness, improper distribution of money,’ ‘being imposed upon by fair pretences,’ and ‘men who talked well, but had no grace in their hearts.’ I asked, who those men were; but that they could not tell. Who encouraged idleness; when and how; what money had been improperly distributed; by whom, and to whom; in what instances I had been imposed upon (as I presumed they meant me); and what were the particulars of that ill-husbandry and mismanagement of which they complained. They stared at one another as men in amaze. I began to be amazed too, not being able to imagine what was the matter, till one dropped a word, by which all came out. They had been talking with Mr. Hall, who had started so many objections against all I said or did, that, they were in the utmost consternation, till the fire thus broke out, which then at once vanished away.”

“Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Nov. 17, 1742.

“Dear Sister,—I believe the death of your children is a great instance of the goodness of God towards you. You have often mentioned to me how much of your time they took up. Now that time is restored to you, and you have nothing to do but to serve the Lord without carefulness and without distraction, till you are sanctified in body, soul, and spirit.

“As soon as I saw Mr. Hall, I invited him to stay at the Foundry; but he desired I would have him excused. There is a strange inconsistency in his tempers and sentiments with regard to me. The still brethren[306] have gradually infused into him as much as they could of their own contempt of me and my brother, and dislike of our whole method of proceeding, which is as different from theirs as light from darkness. Nay, they have blunderingly taught him to find fault even with my economy and want of management both of my family and society. Whereas, I know this is the peculiar talent which God has given me, wherein (by His grace) I am not behind the very chiefest of them. Notwithstanding this, there remains in him something of his old regard for me, which he had at Oxford; and, by-and-by, it will prevail. He will find out these wretched men, and the clouds will flee away.

“My belief is, that, the present design of God, is to visit the poor desolate Church of England; and, that, therefore, neither deluded Mr. Gambold, nor any who leave it, will prosper. O pray for the peace of Jerusalem. ‘They shall prosper that love thee.’

“Mr. Hall has paid me for the books. I don’t want any money of you; your love is sufficient. But write, as often and as largely as you can, to your affectionate friend and brother,

“John Wesley.”[307]

“1743, August 11. From ten to two, I got with my sister Hall in Salisbury. She stands alone. Every soul of her husband’s Society has forsaken the ordinances of God; for which reason she refuses to belong to it.”

“1745, June 19. Three miles on this side Salisbury, a still sister came out to meet, and try her skill upon, me. But, alas! it was labour lost! I knew the happy sinner, and all her paces. I found my sister as a rock in the midst of waves. Mr. Hall’s Society had all left the Church, and mocked and persecuted her for not leaving it. Many pressed me to preach; but I answered them, ‘My heart was not free to it.’ At four, I set out with my sister; and reached Bristol in the afternoon of the next day.”

“December 30, 1745.

“Dear Brother,—Now you act the part of a friend. It has long been our desire, that, you would speak freely. And we will do the same. What we know not yet, may God reveal to us!

“You think, First, that, we undertake to defend some things, which are not defensible by the Word of God. You instance three: on each of which we will explain ourselves as clearly as we can.

“1. ‘That, the validity of our ministry depends on a succession supposed to be from the Apostles, and a commission derived from the Pope of Rome, and his successors or dependents.’

“We believe, it would not be right for us to administer, either Baptism or the Lord’s Supper, unless we had a commission so to do from those Bishops, whom we apprehend to be in a succession from the Apostles. And, yet, we allow, these Bishops are the successors of those, who are dependent on the Bishop of Rome. But, we would be glad to know, on what reasons you believe this to be inconsistent with the Word of God.

“2. ‘That, there is an outward Priesthood, and consequently an outward Sacrifice, ordained and offered by the Bishop of Rome, and his successors or dependents, in the Church of England, as vicars and vicegerents of Christ.’

“We believe there is and always was, in every Christian Church (whether dependent on the Bishop of Rome or not) an outward Priesthood ordained by Jesus Christ, and an outward Sacrifice offered therein, by men authorized to act, as Ambassadors of Christ, and Stewards of the mysteries of God. On what grounds do you believe, that, Christ has abolished that Priesthood or Sacrifice?

“3. ‘That, this Papal Hierarchy and Prelacy, which still continues in the Church of England, is of Apostolical Institution, and authorized thereby; though not by the written Word.’

“We believe, that, the threefold order of ministers, (which you seem to mean by Papal Hierarchy and Prelacy,) is not only authorized by its Apostolical Institution, but also by the written Word. Yet, we are willing to hear and weigh whatever reasons induce you to believe to the contrary.

“You think, Secondly, ‘That, we ourselves give up some things as indefensible, which are defended by the same law and authority, that establish the things above mentioned: such as are many of the Laws, Customs, and Practices of the Ecclesiastical Courts.’

“We allow, 1. That, those Laws, Customs, and Practices are really indefensible; 2. That, there are Acts of Parliament, in defence of them; and also of the threefold order. But, will you show us, how it follows, either, 1. that, those things and these stand or fall together? Or, 2. that, we cannot sincerely plead for the one, though we give up the other? Do you not here quite overlook one circumstance, which might be a key to our whole behaviour? Namely, that, we no more look upon those filthy abuses, which adhere to our Church, as parts of the building; than we look upon any filth which may adhere to the walls of Westminster Abbey, as a part of that structure.

“You think, Thirdly, ‘That, there are other things which we defend and practise, in open contradiction to the Orders of the Church of England. And this you judge to be a just exception against the sincerity of our professions to adhere to it.’

“Compare what we profess with what we practise, and you will possibly be of another judgment. We profess, 1. That, we will obey all the laws of that Church, (such we allow the Rubrics to be, but not the Customs of the Ecclesiastical Courts,) so far as we can with a safe conscience. 2. That, we will obey, with the same restriction, the Bishops, as executors of those laws. But their bare will, distinct from those laws, we do not profess to obey at all. Now point out, What is there in our practice, which is an open contradiction to these professions?

“Is Field-Preaching? Not at all. It is contrary to no law, which we profess to obey.

“The allowing Lay-Preachers? We are not clear, that, this is contrary to any such law. But, if it is, this is one of the exempt cases; one wherein we cannot obey with a safe conscience. Therefore, (be it right or wrong on other accounts,) it is however no just exception against our sincerity.

“The Rules and Directions given to our Societies? which, you say, is a discipline utterly forbidden by the Bishops. When and where did any Bishop forbid this? And if any did, by what law? We know not either the man who ever did forbid, or the law by which he could forbid it.

“The allowing persons (for we require none) to communicate at the chapel, in contradiction, (you think,) to all those Rubrics, which require all to attend always, on their own parish church and pastor, and to receive only at his table?

“Which Rubrics are those? We cannot find them. And, till these are produced, all that is so frequently said of parochial unity, etc., is merely gratis dictum. Consequently, neither is this any just exception against the sincerity of any of our professions.

“John Wesley.”[308]

“1746. July 20. I set out for Salisbury, where, to my utter amazement, Mr. Hall desired me to preach. Was his motive only, to grace his own cause? Or rather, was this the last gasp of expiring love?”

“Last Wednesday, he took formal leave of his corrupted flock, and had the impudence to justify his infamous conduct from the case of Elkanah, (1 Sam. i. 1, 2), which he largely expounded. On Friday morning, he set out for London, having first stripped his wife, (a virtuous woman by whom he has had several children,) of all her childbed linen, and whatever he could readily convert into money, leaving her in the deepest distress. The fire of jealousy has broken out in many families, where wives or daughters were his followers.”

“From the concurrent account of many witnesses, who spoke no more than they personally knew, I now learned as much as is hitherto brought to light concerning the fall of poor Mr. Hall. Twelve years ago, he was, without all question, filled with faith and the love of God. He was a pattern of humility, meekness, seriousness, and, above all, of self-denial; so that, in all England, I knew not his fellow. It were easy to point out the several steps, whereby he fell from his steadfastness; even till he fell into a course of adultery, yea, and avowed it in the face of the sun!”

“London, December 22, 1747.

“Dear Brother,—1. When you were at Oxford with me, fourteen or fifteen years ago, you were holy and unblamable in all manner of conversation. I greatly rejoiced in the grace of God, which was given unto you, which was often a blessing to my own soul. Yet, even then, you had frequently starts of thought, which were not of God, though they at first appeared so to be. But you were humble and teachable: you were easily convinced, and those imaginations vanished away.

“2. More than twelve years ago, you told me, God had revealed it to you, that you should marry my youngest sister. I was much surprised, being well assured that you were able to receive our Lord’s saying, (so you had continually testified,) and to be an ‘eunuch for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.’ But, you vehemently affirmed, the thing was of God; you were certain it was His will. God had made it plain to you, that, you must marry, and, that, she was the very person. You asked, and gained her consent, and fixed the circumstances relating thereto.

“3. Hence, I date your fall. Here were several faults in one. You leaned altogether to your own understanding, not consulting either me, who was then the guide of your soul, or the parents of your intended wife, till you had settled the whole affair. And while you followed the voice of nature, you said it was the voice of God.

“4. In a few days, you had a counter revelation, that, you were not to marry her, but her sister. This last error was far worse than the first. But, you were now quite above conviction. So, in spite of her poor, astonished parent, of her brothers, of all your vows and promises, you shortly after jilted the younger, and married the elder sister. The other, who had honoured you as an angel from heaven, and still loved you much too well, (for you had stolen her heart from the God of her youth,) refused to be comforted. She fell into a lingering illness, which terminated in her death. And doth not her blood still cry unto God from the earth? Surely it is upon your head.

“5. Till this time, you were a pattern of lowliness, meekness, seriousness, and continual advertence to the presence of God; and, above all, of self-denial of every kind, and of suffering all things with joyfulness. But there was now a worm at the root of the gourd. Yet, it did not presently wither away; but, for two years or more, after your marriage, you behaved nearly the same as before.

“Then anger and surliness began to appear, particularly toward your wife. But it was not long before you were sensible of this, and you seemed to have conquered it.

“6. You went up to London ten years ago. After this, you began to speak on any head; not with your usual diffidence and self-abasement, but with a kind of confidence in your own judgment, and an air of self-sufficiency. A natural consequence was, the treating with more sharpness and contempt those who opposed either your judgment or practice.

“7. You came to live at London. You then, for a season, appeared to gain ground again. You acted in concert with my brother and me; heard our advice, and sometimes followed it. But, this continued only till you contracted a fresh acquaintance with some of the Brethren of Fetter Lane. Henceforward, you were quite shut up to us; we had no manner of influence over you. You were more and more prejudiced against us, and would receive nothing which we said.

“8. About six years ago, you removed to Salisbury, and began a society there. For a year or two, you went with them to church and sacrament, and simply preached faith working by love. God was with you, and they increased both in number, and in the knowledge and love of God.

“About four years since, you broke off all friendship with us. You would not so much as make use of our hymns, either in public or private; but laid them quite aside, and took the German Hymn-book in their stead.

“You would not willingly suffer any of your people to read anything which we wrote. You angrily caught one of my sermons out of your servant’s hand, saying, you would have no such books read in your house. In much the same manner, you spoke to Mrs. Whitemarsh, when you found her reading one of the “Appeals.” So that, as far as in you lay, you fixed a great gulf between us and you, which remains to this day, notwithstanding a few steps lately made towards a re-union.

“About the same time, you left off going to church, as well as to the sacrament. Your followers very soon trod in your steps; and, not content with neglecting the ordinances of God, they began, after your example, to despise them, and all that continued to use them, speaking with equal contempt of the public service, of private prayer, of baptism, and of the Lord’s Supper.

“From this time, also, you began to espouse and teach many uncommon opinions: as, that, there is no resurrection of the body; that, there is no general judgment to come; and, that, there is no hell, no worm that never dieth, no fire that never shall be quenched.

“9. Your seriousness and advertence to the presence of God, now, declined daily. You could talk on anything or nothing, just as others did. You could break a jest, or laugh at it heartily; and, as for fasting, abstinence, and self-denial, you, with the Moravians, trampled it under foot.”

In the following paragraphs, I recited to him the things he had done with regard to more than one, or two, or three women, concluding thus:—

“And now you know not that you have done anything amiss! You can eat and drink and be merry! You are every day engaged with variety of company, and frequent the coffee houses! Alas, my brother, what is this? How are you above measure hardened by the deceitfulness of sin? Do you remember the story of Santon Barsisa? I pray God, your last end may not be like his! Oh, how you have grieved the Spirit of God! Return to Him with weeping, fasting, and mourning. You are in the very belly of hell; only the pit hath not shut its mouth upon you. Arise, thou sleeper, and call upon thy God! Perhaps, He may yet be found. Because He still bears with me, I cannot despair for you. But you have not a moment to lose. May God, this instant, strike you to the heart, that you may feel His wrath abiding on you, and have no rest in your bones, by reason of your sin, till all your iniquities are done away.”

“John Wesley.”

“1748. January 26.

“Mr. Hall, having heard I was coming, had given strict orders, that no one should let me in. The inner door he had locked himself, and, I suppose, taken away the key. Yet, when I knocked at the outer gate, which was locked also, William Sims opened the wicket. I walked straight in. A girl stood in the gateway, but turned as soon as she saw me. I followed close at her heels, and went in after her at a back door. I asked the maid, ‘Where is Mr. Hall?’ She said, ‘In the parlour,’ and went in to him. I followed her, and found him sitting with my sister, but he presently rose and went up-stairs. He then sent William Sims down, and bid him, ‘Tell my brother he has no business in my house.’ After a few minutes, I went to a house in the town, and my sister came to me. In about an hour, she returned home; but he sent word to the gate, she might go to the place whence she came. I met a little company, gathered up out of the wreck, both in the evening, and at five in the morning, and exhorted them to go on in the Bible way, and not to be wise above that is written.”

“1750. August 13.—I met my sister Hall in the churchyard,” (Bristol) “and carried her to the room. I had begun preaching, when Mr. Hall walked up the room, and through the desk, and carried her off with him. I was somewhat disturbed; yet went on.

“August 15.—He came up again, calling me by my name. I fled, and he pursued; but could not find me in my lurking place.

“1751. June 4.—Instead of proceeding in Ezekiel, I expounded” (at Bristol) “Hebrew x. 34: ‘Now the just shall live by faith; but, if he draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him.’ I saw the reason with Mr. Hall. He came up toward the desk. Mr. Hamilton stopped him. I gave out a hymn. He sang louder than us all. I spoke sharply of his apostasy, and prayed earnestly for him; desired their prayers for me, lest, after preaching to others, I myself, also, should be a castaway. He walked away, turned back, threatened. The people were all in tears, and agony of prayer.”

“1776, January 2—Tuesday. I set out early” from London, “and came just time enough not to see, but to bury poor Mr. Hall, my brother-in-law, who died on Wednesday morning, I trust, in peace; for God had given him deep repentance. Such another monument of Divine mercy, considering how low he had fallen, and from what height of holiness, I have not seen, no, not in seventy years! I had designed to visit him in the morning; but he did not stay for my coming. It is enough, if, after all his wanderings, we meet again in Abraham’s bosom.”

“Being convinced, that, I cannot possibly oblige you any longer, by anything I can say or do, I have determined to rid you of so useless a burden, as soon as it shall please God to give me an opportunity. If you have so much humanity left for a wife, who has lived so many years with you, as to allow anything toward a maintenance, I will thank you.”

“I conjure you to tell what fatal delusion could make me offend a person whom, of all creatures upon earth, I desired most to please. I shall be exceedingly obliged to you, if you will be so good as to satisfy me in this particular. But, be that as it may, whether you think fit to grant or deny my request, one thing I must inform you of, which is, that, I never can, so long as I am in my senses, wilfully bring any evil upon you. No, death itself does not appear so shocking to me, as endeavouring to lay you under any other obligation than those of conscience and honour. For which reason, I design to put myself again absolutely in your power. If you make a kind use of that power, I shall thank God and you. If not, the time is very short that I can stay on this side the grave; and in the same sentiments that I have lived, I trust, it will be given me to die.”

“Dr. Johnson was an early friend of hers; to her my father owed his acquaintance with the Doctor, and I, the honour of his favour. I used to accompany her to Bolt Court, and had the privilege of hearing their discourse.

“Her whole character was eminent for magnanimity and tenderness. When her unfortunate husband contended for the lawfulness of polygamy, and acted on his erroneous principles, in all her expostulations, she never lost her command of language, or gave him a reproachful word.

“She was particularly distinguished with favour, by my grandmother, for her docile and tranquil spirit; and her brothers and sisters nick-named her the patient Grisele. Such was her attachment to my uncle John, that, if she was in any pain or trouble in her infant days, the sight of him would instantly cheer her. I never heard of so strong an affection, which lasted toward him through life. My grandmother once entered the room, where the children were in high glee and frolic, and said, ‘Ah, you will all, one day, be more thoughtful, as you grow in years.’ Martha replied, ‘Shall I be more thoughtful?’ ‘No,’ said her mother. Indeed, by all that I have heard, she was born a philosopher, and preferred her mother’s chamber to sports or recreations, which naturally endeared her to the parent, whom she almost idolized.

“Were I to relate the instances of her kindness to me, I could fill a book. No parent’s love could exceed hers. It was a joyful day whenever I was to spend it with her. Even my brothers looked forward with delightful anticipation, when her weekly visit was to be paid us (for one day of the week was appropriated by my father to receive her). Her conversation so far resembled my uncle’s, that, children idolized her; and her memory, to the last, supplied the place of books. She had the best of our poets by heart; and her mode of giving advice was so gentle, that offence could not be taken. Her compassion and charity to the poor were such, that, my father used to say, it was needless to give anything to Pat for her own comfort; she always gave it away to some beggar, and forgot herself.

“I was with her at her death. Composed and tranquil, she reasoned about every pain, as occasioning it, with the same serenity she would have spoken of common things. She had no disease, but the springs of life were worn out. A little before her departure, she called me to her bedside, and said, ‘You have heard me wish for assurance,’ (of happiness, she meant), ‘I have it now. Shout!’ and died!”

“1791. July 12, in the City Road, in her eighty-fourth year, Mrs. Martha Hall, widow of the Rev. Mr. H., and last surviving sister of the Rev. John and Charles Wesley. She was equally distinguished by piety, understanding, and sweetness of temper. Her sympathy for the wretched, and her bounty, even to the worthless, will eternize her memory in better worlds than this.”

“As to your advice, that, I should settle in college, I have no business there, having now no office, and no pupils. And whether the other branch of your proposal be expedient, namely, to accept of a cure of souls, it will be time enough to consider when one is offered to me. But, in the meantime, you think, I ought to be still, because, otherwise, I shall invade another’s office. You, accordingly, ask, How is it, that, I assemble Christians who are none of my charge, to sing psalms, and pray, and hear the Scriptures expounded; and think it hard to justify this in other men’s parishes, upon catholic principles.

“Permit me to speak plainly. If, by ‘catholic principles,’ you mean any other than scriptural, they weigh nothing with me; I allow no other rule, whether of faith or practice, than the Holy Scriptures. But, on scriptural principles, I do not think it hard to justify what I do. God, in Scripture, commands me, according to my power, to instruct the ignorant, reform the wicked, confirm the virtuous. Man forbids me to do this in another’s parish; that is, in effect, not to do it at all; seeing I have now no parish of my own, nor probably ever shall. Whom then shall I hear? God or man? ‘If it be just to obey man rather than God, judge ye.’ ‘A dispensation of the Gospel is committed to me, and woe is me, if I preach not the Gospel.’ But where shall I preach it, upon the principles you mention? Not in any of the Christian parts, at least, of the habitable earth; for all these are, after a sort, divided into parishes.

“Suffer me to tell you my principles in this matter. I look upon all the world as my parish; thus far I mean, that, in whatever part of it I am, I judge it meet, right, and my bounden duty, to declare unto all, that are willing to hear, the glad tidings of salvation. This is the work, which I know, God has called me to; and sure I am, that His blessing attends it. Great encouragement have I, therefore, to be faithful in fulfilling the work He hath given me to do. His servant I am; and, as such, am employed according to the plain direction of His word,—‘as I have opportunity, doing good to all men.’ And His providence clearly concurs with His word; which has disengaged me from all things else, that I might singly attend on this very thing, ‘and go about doing good.’

“If you ask, ‘How can this be? How can one do good, of whom men say all manner of evil?’ I will put you in mind, (though you once knew this, yea, and much established me in that great truth,) the more evil men say of me for my Lord’s sake, the more good He will do by me. That it is for His sake, I know, and He knoweth, and the event agreeth thereto; for He mightily confirms the word I speak, by the Holy Ghost, given unto them that hear them. I fear you have herein made shipwreck of the faith. I fear, ‘Satan, transformed into an angel of light,’ hath assaulted you, and prevailed also. I fear, that offspring of hell, worldly or mystic prudence, has drawn you away from the simplicity of the Gospel. How else could you ever conceive, that, the being reviled, and ‘hated of all men,’ should make us less fit for our Masters service? How else could you ever think of ‘saving yourself and them that hear you,’ without being the filth and offscouring of the world’?

“To this hour, is this Scripture true. And I therein rejoice, yea, and will rejoice. Blessed be God, I enjoy the reproach of Christ! O may you also be vile, exceeding vile for His sake! God forbid that you should ever be other than generally scandalous; I had almost said universally. If any man tell you, there is a new way of following Christ ‘he is a liar, and the truth is not in him.’

“John Wesley.”