WESLEY AS A PREACHER.
MR. WESLEY, it has been said, "was no stormy and dramatic Luther. He was
no Cromwell, putting his enemies to the sword in the name of the Lord.
He was no Knox, tearing down churches to get rid of their members. He
was no Calvin; he did not burn anybody for disagreeing with him."
Mr. Wesley was styled "the mover of men's consciences." His preaching
was simple--a child could easily understand him. There were no
far-fetched terms, no soaring among the clouds. All was simple, artless,
and clear. He declares that he could no more preach a fine sermon than
he could wear a fine coat.
George Whitefield was regarded as the prince of modern eloquence. Dr.
Franklin (no mean judge) accorded him this rank. Charles Wesley was but
little inferior to Whitefield as a pulpit orator; while Fletcher was not
inferior to either. Mr. Wesley regarded him as superior to Whitefield.
"He had," says Wesley, "a more striking person, equally good breeding,
and winning address; together with a rich flow of fancy, a strong
understanding, and a far greater treasure of learning both in language,
philosophy, philology, and divinity, and above all (which I can speak
with greater assurance, because I had a thorough knowledge both of one
and the other), a more deep and constant communion with the Father, and
with his Son, Jesus Christ."
These were mighty men. The multitudes that listened to them were swayed
by their eloquence and power as is the forest by a rushing, mighty wind.
Their earnest appeals drew floods of tears from eyes unaccustomed to
weep.
We are not informed that Mr. Wesley often wept while preaching, and yet
no such effects were produced by Whitefield's preaching as were
witnessed under Wesley's. Mr. Southey admits that the sermons of Wesley
were attended with greater and more lasting effect than were the sermons
of Whitefield. Men fell under his words like soldiers slain in battle.
While he was calm, collected, deliberate, and logical, he was more
powerful in moving the sensibilities as well as the understanding of his
hearers than any other man in England. Marvelous were the physical
effects produced by his preaching.
We are told that "his attitude in the pulpit was graceful and easy; his
action calm and natural, yet pleasing and expressive," and his command
over an audience was very remarkable. He always faced the mob, and was
generally victorious at such times. In the midst of a mob he says: "I
called for a chair; the winds were hushed, and all was calm and still;
my heart was filled with love, my eyes with tears, and my mouth with
arguments. They were amazed, they were ashamed, they were melted down,
they devoured every word." There must have been, in such preaching, that
which seldom falls to our lot to hear. Beattie once heard him preach at
Aberdeen one of his ordinary sermons. He remarked that "it was not a
masterly sermon, yet none but a master could have preached it."
The account of Wesley preaching at Epworth on his father's tombstone is
inspiring. He was refused the church where his honored father had
preached thirty-nine years, and for three successive nights he stood
upon his father's tombstone and preached to a large company of people.
"A living son," says Tyerman, "preaching on his dead father's grave,
because the parish priest refused to allow him to officiate in the dead
father's church." "I am well persuaded," said Wesley, "that I did more
good to my Lincolnshire parishioners by preaching three days on my
father's tomb than I did by preaching three years in his pulpit." During
the preaching of these sermons, it is said, the people wept aloud on
every side, and Wesley's voice at times was drowned by the cries of
penitents, and many in that old churchyard found peace with God. On
another evening many dropped as dead men under the word. A clergyman
who heard Wesley preach on that occasion, in writing to him, said: "Your
presence created an awe, as if you were an inhabitant of another world."
Who remembers the name of Rector Romley, that ecclesiastical pretender
who arrogated to himself such authority? His name has long since passed
into comparative oblivion, while that of Wesley, whom he despised,
shines as a star of the first magnitude, and shall shine on until the
heavens shall pass away. A few years later Romley lost his voice, became
a drunkard, then a lunatic, and thus died.
A late writer, not a Methodist, gives a glowing description of Wesley
and his conflicts:
He was the peer, in intellectual endowments, of any
literary character of that most literary period. No
gownsman of the university, no lawned and mitered
prelate of his time, was intellectually the superior
of this itinerant Methodist--a bishop more truly than
the Archprelate of Canterbury himself in everything
but the empty name. The hosts of literary pamphleteers
and controversialists that rained their attacks upon
his system, in showers, were made to feel the keenness
of his logic and the staggering weight of his
responsive blows. It is a fine sight to look upon,
from this distance, that of this single modest man, an
unpretentious knight of true religion and consecrated
learning, beset for forty years by scores, yes,
hundreds, of assailants, armed in all the ostentation
of churchly dignity, shooting at him their arrows of
tracts and sermons; newspaper writers pouring upon him
their ceaseless squibs; malicious critics assailing
his motives and his methods with innuendoes and false
suggestions; ponderous professors tilting at him with
their heavier lances of books and stately treatises;
and he, alone, giving more than thrust for thrust, and
his brother Charles furnishing the inspiring
accompaniment of martial music until one man had
chased a thousand, and two have put ten thousand to
flight.[L]
Speaking of the physical effects produced by Mr. Wesley's preaching, the
same writer says:
Wesley is in Bristol for nine months--such a nine
months Bristol never saw before. No! nor England, nor
the world since the day of Pentecost. Wesley's notions
of propriety were destined to be still further
shocked. Among the multitudes that thronged around him
strange physical demonstrations began to appear. They
shocked even Whitefield when he heard of them, and he
remonstrated with Wesley for seeming to permit or
encourage them. Men were smitten by his words as a
field of standing corn by a tempest. Intense physical
agony prostrated them upon the ground. They stood
trembling, with fixed eyeballs staring as though they
were looking into eternal horror. Some, who seemed
utterly incapable of anything like enthusiasm, were
struck as dead. Others beat their breasts and begged
for forgiveness for their sins. Others were actually
torn and maimed in unconscious convulsions. The story
of the demoniac in the gospels was, to all
appearances, realized over and over.
And again, under his assurance of full forgiveness and
free salvation, the storm would give way to a calm,
and these same persons would be at peace, clothed and
in their right minds. Wesley was helpless; never was
more honest and straightforward in generous work. He
was himself amazed, almost terrified; but, "I have
come to the conclusion," he says, "that we must all
suffer God to carry on his own work in the way that
pleaseth him. I am not anxious to account for this."
Wesley's attitude was the right one. Wesley was
preaching to men and women who were densely ignorant,
in many cases, of the nature of sin, and of the story
of God's redemptive mercy. His words to them were as
truly the opening of an apocalypse as when John saw
the vision of his Lord, and "fell at his feet as
dead."
No wonder such signal effects moved England, Ireland, and Scotland, and,
in many instances, America.
The venerable Rev. Thomas Jackson says: "No man was accustomed to
address larger multitudes or with greater success, and it may be fairly
questioned whether any minister in modern ages has been instrumental in
effecting a greater number of conversions. He possessed all the
essential elements of a great preacher, and in nothing was he inferior
to his eminent friend and contemporary, George Whitefield, except in
voice and manner. In respect of matter, language, and arrangement, his
sermons were vastly superior to those of Mr. Whitefield. Those who judge
Wesley's ministry from the sermons which he preached and published in
the decline of life greatly mistake his real character. Till he was
enfeebled by age his discourses were not at all remarkable for their
brevity. They were often extended to a considerable length. Wesley the
preacher was tethered by no lines of written preparation and verbal
recollection; he spoke with extraordinary power of utterance out of the
fullness of his heart."
Dr. Rigg says: "In regard to Wesley in his early Oxford days, calm,
serene, methodical as Wesley was, there was a deep, steadfast fire of
earnest purpose about him; and notwithstanding the smallness of his
stature there was an elevation of character and of bearing visible to
all with whom he had intercourse, which gave him a wonderful power of
command, however quiet were his words, and however placid his
deportment. But the extraordinary power of his preaching, while it owed
something, no doubt, to this tone and presence of calm, unconscious
authority, was due mainly, essentially, to the searching and importunate
closeness and fidelity with which he dealt with the consciences of his
hearers, and the passionate vehemence with which he urged and entreated
them to turn to Christ and be saved. His words went with a sudden and
startling shock straight home into the core of the guilty sinner's
consciousness and heart."
Dr. Abel Stevens says: "As a preacher he remains a problem to us. It is
at least difficult to explain, at this late day, the secret of his great
power in the pulpit. Aside from the divine influence which is pledged to
all faithful ministers, there must have been some peculiar power in his
address which the records of the times have failed to describe; his
action was calm and natural, yet pleasing and expressive; his voice not
loud, but clear, agreeable, and masculine; his style neat and
perspicuous."
Cowper says he
"Could fetch the records from earlier age,
Or from philosophy's enlightened page
His rich materials, and regale your ear
With strains it was a privilege to hear.
Yet, above all, his luxury supreme,
And his chief glory, was the Gospel theme:
There he was copious as old Greece or Rome,
His happy eloquence seemed there at home;
Ambitious not to shine or to excel,
But to treat justly what he loved so well."
Dr. Rigg says: "In his more intense utterances logic and passion were
fused into a white heat of mingled argument, denunciation, and appeal,
often of the most personal searchingness, often overwhelming in its
vehement home thrusts."
Dr. Whitehead says: "Wesley's style was marked with brevity and
perspicuity. He never lost sight of the rule laid down by Horace:
'Concise your diction, let your sense be clear,
Not with a weight of words fatigue the ear.'
His words were pure, proper to the subject, and precise in their
meaning."
Mr. Wesley studied human character, and sought to adapt his preaching to
the masses. One day he was passing Billingsgate market, with Bradford,
while two of the women were quarreling furiously. His companion urged
him to pass on, but Wesley replied, "Stay, Sammy, stay and learn how to
preach."