_WESLEY IN TRANSITION._ 1738.
[Sidenote: 1738 Age 35]
Whitefield left England the day before Wesley reached it. He landed
in Georgia on the 7th of May, 1738, and remained sixteen weeks; and
then set out again for his own country, where he arrived on November
30. A flying visit, but not a fruitless one. Having been ordained
by Bishop Benson in June, 1736, he began his unparalleled preaching
career with a sermon in the church of St. Mary de Crypt, Gloucester,
where he had been baptized, and where he first received the sacrament
of the Lord’s supper. Some of his congregation mocked, but most were
powerfully impressed. The bishop was informed that the sermon had
driven fifteen persons mad; the worthy prelate hoped the madness would
be abiding. Whitefield was a stripling of twenty-one; but wherever he
went crowds flocked to hear him. At Bristol, the whole city seemed
alarmed; Quakers, Baptists, Presbyterians, and sectarians of all kinds,
ran after him; and churches were as full on week days as they had used
to be on Sundays. Wesley wrote to his Oxford friends, asking help for
Georgia. Whitefield was preaching as often as four times a day, and
had become so famous that Raikes, of Gloucester, and others, thought
it an enrichment of their newspapers to insert accounts of his doings;
but his friend Wesley needed help, and that was quite enough to make
him treat as trifles the praises of the multitudes who ran after him.
Just at the time when Wesley was compelled to leave Georgia, Whitefield
repaired to London to embark for it. During his brief detention, in
less than three months, he preached in London above a hundred sermons,
and collected above a thousand pounds for charity schools and for the
poor. When he set sail, he read prayers and preached twice every day;
and such was his influence on board, that the very soldiers stood out
before him to say their catechism like little children.
The day after his arrival at Savannah, Causton and the magistrates sent
word that they would wait upon him; but he chose rather to wait upon
them, and was treated with as much deference as Wesley had been treated
with disrespect. He began to visit from house to house, catechized,
read prayers morning and evening, and expounded the two second lessons
every day. He found Tomo-Chichi, the Indian chief, on a blanket, thin
and meagre, and evidently dying. At Hampstead and Highgate he followed
Wesley’s example, and read prayers once a week, though the population
of the former village consisted of only three men, one woman, and seven
children. He also visited Thunderbolt, a village of three families
consisting of sixteen persons, and preached to them. He likewise opened
a girls’ school at Savannah. He paid a few days’ visit to Frederica,
where there was now a population of about one hundred and twenty; and
read prayers and preached, under a large tree, to more than could have
been expected. He also visited the Saltzburghers at Ebenezer, and found
two such pious ministers as he had not often seen.
Four months having been thus spent, he set out for England, the
Savannah people bidding adieu to him with tearful eyes, and begging
that he would soon return. He landed in Ireland in November, where
mayors and bishops vied with each other in inviting him to their
mansions and palaces, and where he also took the opportunity of
visiting the cabins of Irish peasants, in one of which, twenty feet
long and twelve broad, there were a man, his wife and three children,
two pigs feeding, two dogs, and several geese, a great fire, and the
master of the family threshing corn.
On reaching London, he found that those who had been awakened by
his preaching a year ago had “grown strong men in Christ, by the
ministrations of his dear friends and fellow labourers, John and
Charles Wesley.” The old doctrine of justification by faith only
had been much revived; societies had been instituted at Fetter Lane
and other places; and Whitefield ended the eventful year of 1738 by
preaching and expounding, during the last week of it, not fewer than
seven-and-twenty times.[228]
Let us now turn to Wesley. He landed at Deal early in the morning of
February 1; and at once resumed his work in England, by reading prayers
and preaching at the inn. After breakfast, he set out for London, and,
reaching Faversham at night, he again read prayers and expounded the
second lesson to a few who were called Christians, but who were more
savage in their behaviour than the wildest Indians he had ever met. His
next halting place was Blendon, where the family of his friend Charles
Delamotte gave him a hearty welcome. On the evening of February 3, he
arrived in London; and, without delay, visited Oglethorpe, and waited
upon the Georgian trustees; gave to them a written account why he had
left the colony; and returned to them the instrument whereby they had
appointed him minister of Savannah.
Wesley was too earnest to take a holiday. Time with him was too
important for any part of it to be spent in idleness. Reaching
London on Friday, he resumed preaching on Sunday; and, for the next
fifty-three years, never ceased, and never lagged, in this important
work, except when serious sickness occasionally laid upon him a brief
embargo.
And, certainly, if England ever needed earnest, enthusiastic labourers,
it was now. During this very year of 1738, not fewer than fifty-two
criminals were hanged at Tyburn; and within the last two years about
12,000 persons had been convicted, within the Bills of Mortality, of
smuggling gin, or of selling it without the £50 per annum licence.
Sunday traffic had become such a nuisance in London and its suburbs,
that even the court of aldermen interfered, and commanded the marshals,
and all constables, beadles, and other public officers, to use their
best endeavours to suppress it. They were also to apprehend all
shoeblacks cleaning shoes in the public streets; and to take notice
of all vintners, ale and coffee house keepers, barbers, and others,
who exercised their ordinary trades on Sundays. A committee of the
House of Lords “to examine into the causes of the present notorious
immorality and profaneness,” stated, in their report, that they had
sufficient grounds to believe that a number of loose and disorderly
persons had of late formed themselves into a club, under the name of
_Blasters_, and were using means to induce the youth of the kingdom to
join them. The members of this impious club professed themselves to be
votaries of the devil, offered prayers to him, and drank his health.
They also had been heard to utter “the most daring and execrable
blasphemies against the sacred name and majesty of God; and to use
such obscene, blasphemous, and before unheard of expressions as the
Lords’ committee think they cannot even mention, and therefore they
pass them over in silence.” The same committee further reported, that
“of late years there had appeared a greater neglect of religion and
of all things sacred—a greater neglect of Divine worship, both public
and private, and of the due observance of the sabbath, than had ever
before been known in England. There was a want of reverence to the laws
and to magistrates, and of a due subordination in the several ranks
and degrees of the community. There was an abuse of liberty, a great
neglect in education, and a want of care in training children, and in
keeping servants in good order; while idleness, luxury, gambling, and
an excessive use of spirituous and intoxicating liquors had grown into
an alarming magnitude.” The report concludes by recommending that the
bishops be desired, at their visitations, to particularly charge the
clergy to exhort the people to a more frequent and constant attendance
at Divine services; and that visitors of the universities and of
schools require the fellows and masters carefully to instruct the youth
committed to their care, in the principles of religion and morality; to
which recommendation the House of Lords agreed.
One month, in 1738, was spent by Wesley in his homeward voyage from
America. Three others were spent in Germany. During the remaining eight
he preached in various parts of England, at least, eighty times. One
of his sermons was delivered in the cabin of a ship, two were preached
in workhouses, eleven in Oxford castle, one in Oxford Bocardo, one
in Lincoln College chapel, one in Manchester, one at Windsor, one at
Stanton-Harcourt, two in Newgate prison, and the remainder principally
in twenty-six different churches in the metropolis. His sermon at St.
John the Evangelist’s “offended many of the best in the parish.” His
first discourse at St. Lawrence’s was “an open defiance of that mystery
of iniquity which the world calls ‘prudence,’” and gave great offence.
A sermon at Oxford castle was chiefly addressed to a man condemned
to die, and who, on the same day, found the forgiveness of his sins,
and shortly after went to the gallows “enjoying perfect peace.” At one
of his sermons in Newgate prison, nine persons were present who had
recently received sentence of death—two for murdering their wives, one
for filing guineas, two for burglary, and four for robberies. These
wretched creatures, and two others previously condemned, were all
executed at Tyburn, on November 8;[229] and, at their earnest desire,
Wesley and his brother, on the day of execution, went to Newgate “to do
the last good office” to them. Charles preached; the malefactors wept;
and some of them, at least, were filled with “the peace of God which
passeth all understanding.” Wesley writes: “It was the most glorious
instance I ever saw of faith triumphing over sin and death.”
The great event in Wesley’s history, during the year 1738, was his
conversion. Something has been said already on this momentous subject;
but other facts and explanations must now be given. Let us try to
answer the questions following:—
1. What was the religious state, and what were the religious views, of
Wesley previous to his conversion? 2. What were the doctrines he was
taught by Peter Bohler? 3. When was he converted? and how?
1. Wesley’s religious state and views previous to his conversion.
He was _almost a Christian_.[230] He most rigorously abstained from
everything which the gospel of Christ prohibits, and cheerfully
practised everything which it enjoins. He avoided every form of
profanity, and every word or look that, directly or indirectly, tended
to uncleanness. He equally avoided detraction, backbiting, talebearing,
evil speaking, and idle words. He was no railer, brawler, or scoffer
at the faults or infirmities of others, but continually endeavoured to
live peaceably with all men. He laboured and suffered for the benefit
of many. He reproved the wicked, instructed the ignorant, confirmed
the wavering, quickened the good, and comforted the afflicted. He used
all the means of grace, and at all opportunities: he attended public
service every day; he communicated every week; he constantly used
family prayer; he had set times daily for private devotions. All this
was done from a sincere and hearty desire to serve God and to do His
will. In all his conversation and in all his actions—in all he did
and in all he left undone, his only motive was a design to please and
honour God. He declares that he went thus far for many years, and yet
that all this time he was only _almost a Christian_.[231]
He held no principles but what he believed to be revealed in the word
of God; and, in the interpretation of that word he always judged the
most literal sense to be the best, unless when the literal sense of
one scripture contradicted some other. He firmly believed in a change
wrought in the heart by the Holy Spirit, and called a person thus
changed “regenerated, born again, and a new creature.” In all other
cases, he endeavoured to express spiritual things in spiritual words,
though he was not ignorant that such words and their hidden meaning
were treated by the unconverted as jargon and cant.[232]
He had many remarkable answers to prayer, especially when he was in
trouble; and he had many sensible comforts—short anticipations of the
life of faith. He had a Divine conviction of God and of the things
of God; and firmly believed in Jesus Christ as the Saviour of the
world.[233] He was, at least, a _servant_ of God, _and was accepted
of Him_;[234] and yet all this while he was beating the air, and was
seeking to establish his own righteousness, instead of submitting to
the righteousness of Christ which is by faith. He delighted in the law
of God, after the inner man; and yet he was carnal, sold under sin.
Every day he was constrained to cry out, “What I do I allow not: for
what I would I do not; but what I hate that I do. To will is present
with me; but how to perform that which is good, I find not.” He was
fighting with sin continually, but not always conquering. Before,
he had _willingly_ served sin; now it was _unwillingly_; but still
he served it. He fell, and rose, and fell again. Sometimes he was
overcome, and in heaviness; sometimes he overcame, and was in joy.
Once he had foretastes of the terrors of the law; but now he had
foretastes of the comforts of the gospel. For above ten years there was
in him this struggle between nature and grace; and yet he was still
only striving with, not freed from, sin; neither had he the witness of
the Spirit with his spirit that he was a child of God; nor indeed could
he, for he “sought it not by faith, but, as it were, by the works of
the law.”[235]
Such is Wesley’s description of himself; and this, when added to what
has been previously said concerning his religious career at Oxford,
will be a sufficient answer to the first of the three questions
proposed.
2. The second is, what were the doctrines which Wesley was taught by
Peter Bohler?
In the storm which Wesley encountered in his voyage from Georgia, he
found himself in fear of death; and was convinced that the cause of it
was unbelief; and that the gaining a true living faith was the “one
thing needful” for him.
Peter Bohler told him that true faith in Christ was inseparably
attended by—(1) dominion over sin; and (2) constant peace, arising from
a sense of forgiveness. Wesley was amazed, and regarded this as a new
gospel; for if this was so, it was clear that he was without true faith
in Christ, because he was without its inseparable fruits. He was not
willing to be convinced of this. He disputed with all his strength,
and laboured to prove that there might be faith without the two fruits
mentioned, and especially the second. Bohler referred him to the Bible
and to experience. Wesley consulted the Bible, and when he had set
aside the glosses of men he was bound to acknowledge that Bohler was
correct. Still he hesitated to believe that any “experience” could be
adduced in favour of Bohler’s doctrine. The next day Bohler brought
to him three persons, all of whom testified of their own personal
experience that a true living faith in Christ is inseparable from a
sense of pardon for all past, and freedom from all present, sins. They
also added, with one mouth, that this faith is the gift, the free gift
of God; and that He will surely give it to every one who earnestly and
perseveringly prays for it.
At subsequent interviews with Bohler, another doctrine was forced
on Wesley, namely, that this saving faith in Christ is given in a
moment; and that in an instant a man is turned from sin and misery
to righteousness and joy in the Holy Ghost. Wesley kicked against
this also; and Bohler again referred him to the Scriptures and
to experience. Wesley searched the Scriptures; and, to his utter
astonishment, he found there were scarcely any instances of other
than _instantaneous_ conversions. Still he had one retreat left,
and told Bohler that, though “God wrought thus in the first ages of
Christianity, times now were changed.” To meet this objection, Bohler,
the day after, turned to his _experience_ test, and brought to Wesley
several living witnesses, who testified that God had given them, in
a moment, such a faith in Christ as translated them out of darkness
into light, out of sin and fear into holiness and happiness. Wesley
writes: “Here ended my disputing. I could now only cry out, ‘Lord, help
Thou my unbelief.’ I was now thoroughly convinced; and, by the grace
of God, I resolved to seek this faith unto the end—(1) By absolutely
renouncing all dependence, in whole or in part, upon my own works of
righteousness; on which I had really grounded my hope of salvation,
though I knew it not, from my youth up. (2) By adding to the constant
use of all the other means of grace continual prayer for this very
thing—justifying, saving faith, a full reliance on the blood of Christ
shed for me; a trust in Him as my Christ, as my sole justification,
sanctification, and redemption.”[236]
These then were the great doctrines which Peter Bohler brought to the
hearing of John Wesley. They were new to him; but finding them to be
scriptural, and also corroborated by living experience, he at once
believed them. He went to the Delamotte family at Blendon, and there
spake clearly and fully concerning them. Mr. Broughton and his brother
Charles were present. The former objected, and the latter became so
much offended, that in anger he left the room, telling his brother that
his newfangled doctrines were mischievous.[237] Wesley also wrote to
his brother Samuel on the same subject, on the 4th of April, declaring
that he had seen, so far as it could be seen, very many persons
changed, in a moment, from the spirit of horror, fear, and despair, to
the spirit of hope, joy, and peace; and from sinful desires, till then
reigning over them, to a pure desire of doing the will of God.[238]
We proceed to the third question,—
3. When and how was Wesley converted? His first interview with Bohler
was on February 7, 1738; and, from that time till the 4th of May,
when Bohler left London for Carolina, he embraced every opportunity
of conversing with him. They went in company to Oxford, and to Mr.
Gambold, at Stanton-Harcourt. The man of erudition, and of almost
anchorite piety, sat at the feet of this godly German like a little
child, and was content to be thought a fool that he might be wise.
“My brother, my brother,” said Bohler, “that philosophy of yours must
be purged away;” and purged away it was. Wesley thought that, being
without faith, he ought to leave off preaching. But Bohler replied:
“By no means. Preach faith till you have it; and then, because you
have it, you will preach it;” and, on the 6th of March, he began to
preach accordingly. Meanwhile several of his friends, as his brother
Charles, Mr. Gambold, and Mr. Stonehouse, vicar of Islington, had
embraced the doctrine of salvation by faith only; and two, Whitefield,
and Mr. Hutchins, of Pembroke College, had experienced it.[239] Charles
Wesley also, on Whit-Sunday, May 21, was made a partaker of the same
great blessing. At the time, he was ill of pleurisy, and his brother
and some other friends came to him, and sang a hymn of praise to the
Holy Ghost; and, after they were gone, he was enabled to exercise that
faith in Christ of the want of which he had been recently convinced,
and was filled with love and peace. Wesley himself was still a mourner.
His heart was heavy. He felt that there was no good in him; and that
all his works, his righteousness, and his prayers, so far from having
merit, needed an atonement for themselves. His mouth was stopped. He
knew that he deserved nothing but wrath; and yet he heard a voice,
saying, “Believe, and thou shalt be saved;” “he that believeth is
passed from death unto life.” Three more days of anguish were thus
passed; and then, on May 24, at five in the morning, he opened his
Testament on these words: “There are given unto us exceeding great
and precious promises, that by these ye might be partakers of the
Divine nature.” On leaving home, he opened on the text, “Thou art
not far from the kingdom of God.” In the afternoon, he went to St.
Paul’s Cathedral, where the anthem was full of comfort. At night, he
went to a society-meeting in Aldersgate Street, where a person read
Luther’s preface to the epistle to the Romans, in which Luther teaches
what faith is, and also that faith alone justifies. Possessed of it,
the heart is “cheered, elevated, excited, and transported with sweet
affections towards God.” Receiving the Holy Ghost, through faith, the
man “is renewed and made spiritual,” and he is impelled to fulfil the
law “by the vital energy in himself.” While this preface was being
read, Wesley experienced an amazing change. He writes: “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; and I
then testified openly to all there, what I now first felt in my heart.”
Towards ten o’clock, a troop of friends took him to his brother; they
sang a hymn with joy; and then parted with a prayer.[240]
To add to this would be folly. The questions proposed have been
answered from Wesley’s own writings. For ten years he had believed
in Christ, but never believed as he did now. He had been intensely
pious; but now he possessed power over himself and sin which he had not
possessed before. He had practised religion; but now he experienced
its bliss. According to his own sermon, written nearly half a century
subsequent to this, he was, as a _servant_ of God, _accepted_, and was
_safe_; but now he _knew_ it, and was _happy_ as well as _safe_. There
was sunshine in his soul, which lit up his face, and which turned the
severe ascetic, for a season at least, into a joyful saint.
Having given, as briefly and as clearly as we can, an account of the
way in which Wesley, after ten years of earnest prayer, rigorous
fasting, and self-sacrificing piety, was brought into the blissful
enjoyment of a conscious salvation, this may be a fitting place to
notice the man, by whose instrumentality he was taught the nature and
fruits of saving faith.
Peter Bohler was born at Frankfort, on the last day of the year 1712.
He was educated in the university of Jena, where he also studied
theology. When sixteen years of age, he joined the Moravians; and
when twenty-five, he was ordained for the work of the ministry by
Count Zinzendorf, this being the first time that the count exercised
his episcopal functions. Immediately after his ordination, Bohler set
out for London, on his way to Carolina; and here it was that Wesley
first met him. Wesley introduced him to James Hutton, and procured him
lodgings. Charles Wesley began to teach him English; and a tailor, of
the name of Viney, interpreted his Latin addresses in the Moravian
meetings. Questions were asked him, and he simply answered them from
the Holy Scriptures. His exposition of saving faith was new, even to
the London Moravians; and, “to their astonishment, they saw, for the
first time, that he who believeth in Jesus hath everlasting life;
and it was with indescribable joy that they embraced the doctrine of
justification through faith in Christ, and of freedom by it from the
dominion and guilt of sin.”[241] Marvellous blessings attended Bohler’s
interpreted discourses; and a work was begun, says Wesley, “such as
will never come to an end, till heaven and earth pass away.”
“I travelled,” writes Bohler to Zinzendorf, “with the two brothers,
John and Charles Wesley, from London to Oxford. The elder, John,
is a good-natured man: he knew he did not properly believe on the
Saviour, and was willing to be taught. His brother, with whom you
often conversed a year ago, is at present very much distressed in his
mind, but does not know how he shall begin to be acquainted with the
Saviour. Our mode of believing in the Saviour is so easy to Englishmen,
that they cannot reconcile themselves to it; if it were a little more
artful, they would much sooner find their way into it. Of faith in
Jesus they have no other idea than the generality of people have. They
justify themselves; and, therefore, they always take it for granted,
that they believe already, and try to prove their faith by their works,
and thus so plague and torment themselves that they are at heart very
miserable.”[242]
These are weighty words on the simplicity of saving faith, and well
deserve pondering by both the ministers and members of the church at
the present day.
Wesley had found peace with God; but, for the encouragement of new
converts, let it be remembered that his joy in the Holy Ghost was not
unbroken. The same night, he “was much buffeted with temptations, which
returned again and again.” The day after, “the enemy injected a fear”
that the change was not great enough, and therefore that his faith was
not real. On May 26, his “soul continued in peace, but yet in heaviness
because of manifold temptations.” On the 27th, there was a want of joy,
which led him to resolve to spend the time of every morning, until
he went to church, in unceasing prayer. On the 31st, he “grieved the
Spirit of God, not only by not watching unto prayer, but likewise by
speaking with sharpness, instead of tender love, of one who was not
sound in the faith. Immediately God hid His face, and he was troubled
and in heaviness till the next morning.” But, in the midst of all, he
kept waiting upon God continually, read the New Testament, conquered
temptations, and gained increasing power to trust and to rejoice in God
his Saviour. He had to fight; but he was not, as formerly, subdued.
He went to Oxford; but the whole of his old Methodist friends were now
dispersed. Here he preached his celebrated sermon in St. Mary’s, before
the university, on the text, “By grace are ye saved, through faith;”
a sermon which, in November following, was published by James Hutton,
pp. 25, price threepence. In this discourse, he showed that the faith
through which we are saved is not barely the faith of a heathen, who
believes that God is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently
seek Him; nor, secondly, is it the faith of a devil, who, in addition
to the faith of a heathen, believes that Jesus is the Son of God, the
Christ, the Saviour of the world; nor, thirdly, is it barely the faith
which the apostles had while Christ was yet upon earth, although they
so believed in Christ as to leave all and follow Him, had power to
work miracles, and were sent to preach; but, fourthly, “it is a full
reliance on the blood of Christ,—a trust in the merits of His life,
death, and resurrection,—a recumbency upon Him as our atonement and our
life, as given for us and living in us; and, in consequence hereof, a
closing with Him and cleaving to Him, as our wisdom, righteousness,
sanctification, and redemption, or, in one word, our salvation.”
The salvation obtained by such a faith is described as being a
salvation—(1) From the guilt of all past sin; (2) From servile fear;
(3) From the power of sin. The man having it is pardoned; he has the
witness of the Spirit that he is a child of God; he is born again; and
he lives without sin.
Wesley further answers objections to this doctrine, and shows that to
preach salvation by faith only is not to preach against holiness and
good works; neither does it lead men into pride, nor drive them to
despair. He maintains that never was the preaching of this doctrine
more seasonable than now, and that nothing else can effectually prevent
the increase of the popish delusion. It was this which drove Popery out
of the kingdom, and it is this alone that can keep it out.
This remarkable sermon was preached eighteen days after Wesley’s
conversion—not on June 18, as is stated in Wesley’s collected works,
but on June 11. Well would it be if, at the present day, the same great
doctrine were as plainly preached as Wesley preached it. For want of
it, the church is gliding into a sort of religious scepticism; and
this, above all things else, would prove a check to the spread of the
popish errors and practices, which are too successfully setting at
defiance all the wisdom and power of man to prevent their triumph.
In the same year Wesley published another sermon, “On God’s Free
Grace,”[243] in which he gave equal prominence to another great Bible
truth, namely, that “the grace or love of God, whence cometh our
salvation, is _free in all_, and _free for all_.” And then, in defence
of himself as a good Churchman, he issued a small 12mo pamphlet of
sixteen pages, entitled “The Doctrine of Salvation, Faith, and Good
Works: extracted from the Homilies of the Church of England.” Here he
shows that the doctrine of that Church is, that the sinner is justified
by faith only; and yet this faith does not exclude repentance,
hope, love, and fear of God; but shuts them out from the office of
justifying. “So that, although they be all present together in him
that is justified, yet they justify not altogether.” “Neither does
faith shut out good works, necessary to be done afterwards; but we are
not to do them with the intent of being justified by doing them.” He
further shows that “justification is the office of God only,—a blessing
which we receive of Him by His free mercy, through the only merits of
His beloved Son.” He adds: “the right and true Christian faith is not
only to believe that holy Scripture and the articles of our faith are
true, but also to have a sure trust and confidence to be saved from
everlasting damnation by Christ; whereof doth follow a loving heart
to obey His commandments.” He maintains further that, without this
true saving faith, the works we do cannot be good and acceptable in
the sight of God. “Faith giveth life to the soul, and they are as much
dead to God who want faith, as they are to the world whose bodies want
souls. Without faith all we do is but dead before God, be it ever so
glorious before man.”
Such then were the great doctrines which Wesley grasped, and began to
preach in 1738. It was the preaching of these doctrines that gave birth
to the greatest revival of religion chronicled in the history of the
church of Christ. From such doctrines Wesley never wavered; and God
forbid that they should ever be abandoned, or even partially neglected,
by any of Wesley’s successors. They are not Moravian whims, or the
fancies of fanatics. They are a great deal more than even Bible truths
of subordinate importance. They are essentially and vitally connected
with man’s salvation both here and hereafter, and no church has ever
prospered except in proportion as its ministers have prominently and
faithfully taught and enforced them in their congregations.
It may reasonably be asked how was it that Wesley—the son of a most
able divine of the Church of England, and himself a man of extensive
learning, and a devoted student of Christian truth—how was it, that
he lived so long without a knowledge of one of the greatest, and yet
most clearly taught doctrines of the holy Bible, the doctrine of the
sinner’s salvation by faith alone? Wesley himself tells us: from early
life he had been warned against the papistical error of laying too
much stress on outward works. After this, he read certain Lutheran
and Calvinist authors, whose confused and indigested expositions
magnified faith to such an amazing size that it quite hid all the
rest of the commandments. In this labyrinth he was bewildered. He
wished, on the one hand, to avoid the popish doctrine of salvation by
works; but, in doing this, he was beset, on the other hand, with an
uncouth hypothesis concerning salvation by faith, which he found it
impossible to reconcile either with Scripture or common sense. From
these well meaning but wrong headed writers, he turned to authors
like Beveridge, Nelson, and Jeremy Taylor, by whom his difficulties
were, to some extent, relieved; but even these he found interpreting
Scripture in different ways, and he was nearly as much confused as
ever. After this, he was taught that he ought to interpret the Bible
by the general teachings of the ancient church. Adopting this rule,
he, for a season, made antiquity a co-ordinate rather than subordinate
rule with Scripture, and, by extending his antiquity principle too far,
his confusion of mind became greater instead of less. He then became
acquainted with the Mystics, whose “noble descriptions of union with
God, and internal religion, made everything else appear mean and flat;”
yet here again, on reflection, he found that he was wrong. Mysticism
was nothing like the religion which Christ and His apostles lived and
taught.[244] Thus was this sincere and earnest inquirer after truth led
to and fro in a wilderness of perplexing entanglements, until Peter
Bohler took him by the hand, and led him as a contrite sinner to the
cross of Christ.
Ten days before his conversion, Wesley wrote a somewhat petulant letter
to William Law, telling him that he did so in obedience to what he
considered the call of God. He informs him that, for two years, he had
been preaching after the model of his “Serious Call,” and “Christian
Perfection,” and that the result had been to convince the people that
the law of God was holy, but that, when they attempted to fulfil it,
they found themselves without power. Wesley declares that he himself
was in this state, and might have groaned in it till he died if he had
not been directed to Peter Bohler. He then proceeds:—
“Now, sir, suffer me to ask, how will you answer it to our
common Lord, that you never gave me this advice? Did you never
read the Acts of the Apostles, or the answer of Paul to him
who said, ‘What must I do to be saved?’ Or are you wiser than
he? Why did I scarce ever hear you name the name of Christ?
Never so as to ground anything upon faith in His blood? Who is
this who is laying another foundation? If you say you advised
other things as preparatory to this, what is this but laying a
foundation below the foundation? If you say you advised them
because you knew that I had faith already, verily you knew
nothing of me. I know that I had not faith, unless the faith of
a devil, the faith of Judas: that speculative, notional, airy
shadow, which lives in the head not in the heart. But what is
this to the living, justifying faith in the blood of Jesus?
the faith that cleanseth from sin, that gives us to have free
access to the Father; to rejoice in hope of the glory of God;
to have the love of God shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy
Ghost, which dwelleth in us, and the Spirit itself bearing
witness with our spirits that we are the children of God?
“I beseech you, sir, by the mercies of God, to consider deeply
and impartially whether the true reason of your never pressing
this upon me was not this—that you had it not yourself? Whether
that man of God [Bohler] was not in the right, who gave this
account of a late interview he had with you? ‘I began speaking
to him of faith in Christ: he was silent. Then he began to
speak of mystical matters. I spake to him of faith in Christ
again: he was silent. Then he began to speak of mystical
matters again. I saw his state at once.’”
Wesley then adds that Bohler thought the state of Law to be a dangerous
one; and intimates that Bohler’s opinion was of great consequence,
because he had the Spirit of God; and finally, he concludes his not too
courteous epistle with: “Once more, sir, let me beg you to consider
whether your extreme roughness, and morose and sour behaviour, at least
on many occasions, can possibly be the fruit of a living faith in
Christ?”[245]
This was an uncalled for, rough, morose attack upon a man of the
greatest ability, of distinguished though mistaken piety, whose works
Wesley had read with the highest admiration, whose advice Wesley
had sought, and who was nearly old enough to be Wesley’s father. Law
replied to it in a letter dated May 19, 1738. After some withering
sarcasm, in reference to Wesley having written his letter in obedience
to the call of God, Law proceeds to say:—
“You have had a great many conversations with me, and you never
were with me for half an hour without my being large upon that
very doctrine, which you make me totally silent and ignorant
of. The second time I saw you I put into your hands the little
book of the German theology, and said all that I could in
recommendation of the doctrine contained in it. If that book
does not plainly lead you to Jesus Christ, I am content to know
as little of Christianity as you are pleased to believe; or
if you are for stripping yourself naked of your own works, or
righteousness, further than that book directs, I had rather you
were taught that doctrine by any one else than by me. Above a
year ago, I published a book against the ‘Plain Account of the
Sacrament,’ etc. You may perhaps be too much prejudiced against
me to read it; but, as you have made yourself a judge of the
state of my heart, and of my knowledge in Christ, you ought to
have seen that book to help you to make a right judgment of my
sentiments. What I have there written I judge to be well timed
after my former discourses. I have been governed through all
that I have written and done by these two common, fundamental,
unchangeable maxims of our Lord: ‘_Without Me ye can do
nothing:_’ ‘_If any man will come after Me or be My disciple,
let him take up his cross and follow Me._’ If you are for
separating the doctrine of the cross from faith in Christ, or
following Him, you have numbers and names enough on your side,
but not me.”
Law continues: “Let me advise you not to be too hasty in believing that
because you have changed your language you have changed your faith. The
head can as easily amuse itself with a living and justifying faith in
the blood of Jesus as with any other notion; and the heart which you
suppose to be a place of security, as being the seat of self-love, is
more deceitful than the head.”
A lengthened correspondence followed, which Mr. Law concluded
thus:—“Who made me your teacher? or can make me answerable for any
defects in your knowledge? You sought my acquaintance; you came to me
as you pleased, and on what occasion you pleased, and to say to me what
you pleased. If it was my business to put this question to you, and if
you have a right to charge me with guilt for the neglect of it, may you
not much more reasonably accuse them who have authoritatively charge
over you? Did the Church in which you are educated put this question
to you? Did the bishop who ordained you either deacon or priest do this
for you? Did the bishop who sent you a missionary to Georgia require
this of you? Pray, sir, be at peace with me.”[246]
This was a miserable squabble, into which Wesley foolishly rushed,
and out of which he came not victorious, but vanquished. It was an
unfortunate commencement of a new Christian life, and led to an
estrangement between two great and good men, which ought never to have
existed. No doubt, the theology of William Law was defective; but to
charge him with the guilt of Wesley’s want of faith, and to accuse
him of extremely rough, morose, and sour behaviour, was a deplorable
outrage against good manners.
But this was not the only unpleasantness which now sprang up. The
Moravian movement and the new conversions began to attract great
attention and to create some alarm. As might naturally be expected,
amid so much excitement, there was a mixture of extravagance. The
sister of Mr. Bray dreamed that at night she heard a knock at her door,
and on opening it saw a person dressed in white. She asked him who he
was, and he answered, “I am Jesus Christ.” She awoke in a fright, but a
day or two after was filled with faith, and was commanded by an unseen
power to go to Charles Wesley, who was ill, and assure him from Christ
of his recovery of soul and body. In a prayer-meeting a Mr. Verding
declared that he had just seen, as it were, a whole army rushing by him
and bearing the broken body of Christ; a sight which was overpowering,
and cast him into a cold sweat. A young man, as he entered St.
Dunstan’s church to receive the sacrament, was met by Christ carrying
His cross in His hands: and a woman dreamed that a ball of fire fell
upon her, and fired her soul. Samuel Wesley, of Tiverton, to whom these
things were related, justly deemed them “downright madness;” and, in
his anger, went so far as to wish that those “canting fellows,” as he
called the Moravians, “who talked of _indwellings_, _experiences_,
_getting into Christ_,” etc., had been somewhere else.[247]
The chief cause of anxiety, however, arose from Mrs. Hutton’s
description of her two lodgers. She relates that, when the two Wesleys
returned from Georgia, she received and treated them with the utmost
love and tenderness; but John was now “turned a wild enthusiast.” While
her husband was reading to a number of people in his study a sermon of
Bishop Blackall’s, John Wesley stood up and told the company that, five
days ago, he was not a Christian. Mr. Hutton was thunderstruck, and
said, “Have a care, Mr. Wesley, how you despise the benefits received
by the two sacraments;” but Wesley repeated his declaration, upon which
Mrs. Hutton answered, “If you have not been a Christian ever since I
knew you, you have been a great hypocrite, for you made us all believe
that you were one.” To this Wesley replied that, “When we renounce
everything but faith and get into Christ, then, and not till then, have
we any reason to believe that we are Christians.”
Mrs. Hutton, in writing an account of all this to Samuel Wesley, adds
that her two children had so high an opinion of Wesley’s sanctity and
judgment that they were in great danger of being drawn into his “wild
notions;” that Wesley had “abridged the life of one Halyburton, a
Presbyterian teacher in Scotland,” and that her son had designed to
print it, but she and her husband had forbidden him to promote such
“rank fanaticism;” and that all his converts were “directed to get an
assurance of their sins being pardoned,” and to expect this in “an
instant.” She acknowledges that the two Wesleys “are men of great parts
and learning;” but they were now under a “strange delusion;” and she
entreats their brother Samuel to stop this “wildfire,” if he can.
Samuel Wesley’s reply is dated, “Tiverton, June 17, 1738.” He writes:—
“I am sufficiently sensible of yours and Mr. Hutton’s kindness
to my brothers, and shall always acknowledge it. Falling into
enthusiasm is being lost with a witness; and, if you are
troubled for two of your children, you may be sure I am so for
two whom I may, in some sense, call _mine_. What Jack means by
his not being a Christian till last month, I understand not.
Had he never been in covenant with God? Then, as Mr. Hutton
observed, baptism was nothing. Had he totally apostatized from
it? I dare say not; and yet he must either be unbaptized, or an
apostate, to make his words true.
“If renouncing everything but faith means rejecting all merit
of our own good works, what Protestant does not do that? Even
Bellarmine on his death-bed is said to have renounced all
merits but those of Christ. But if this renouncing regards
good works in any other sense, as being unnecessary, it is
wretchedly wicked.
“I hope your son does not think it as plainly revealed that
he shall print an enthusiastic book, as it is, that he should
obey his father and his mother. God deliver us from visions
that shall make the law of God vain! I pleased myself with the
expectation of seeing Jack; but now I am afraid of it. I know
not where to direct to him, or where he is. I will write to
Charles as soon as I can. In the meantime I heartily pray God
to stop the progress of this lunacy.”[248]
Samuel asked his brother what he meant by being made a Christian. John
replied:—
“By a Christian, I mean one who so believes in Christ as that
sin hath no more dominion over him; and, in this obvious sense
of the word, I was not a Christian till the 24th of May last
past. Till then sin had dominion over me, although I fought
with it continually; but, from that time to this, it hath not.
Such is the free grace of God in Christ. If you ask me, by what
means I am made free? I answer, by faith in Christ; by such
a sort or degree of faith as I had not till that day. Some
measure of this faith, which bringeth salvation or victory over
sin, and which implies peace and trust in God through Christ,
I now enjoy by His free mercy; though in very deed it is in me
but as a grain of mustard seed. For the ‘πληροφορια
πιστεως,—the seal of the Spirit, the love of God shed abroad
in my heart, and producing joy in the Holy Ghost, joy which
no man taketh away, joy unspeakable and full of glory,’—this
witness of the Spirit I have not; but I wait patiently for it.
I know many who have already received it; and, having seen and
spoken with a cloud of witnesses abroad,[249] as well as in my
own country, I cannot doubt but that believers who wait and
pray for it will find these scriptures fulfilled in themselves.
My hope is, that they will be fulfilled in me. I build on
Christ, the Rock of Ages.”[250]
The reader will observe here a strange confession, which has seldom,
if ever, been noticed. The letter, from which the above is taken, was
written October 23, 1738, five months after Wesley’s conversion; and
yet he here distinctly states that, as yet, he was not possessed of
the witness of the Spirit; but was waiting for it. This is contrary
to the commonly received notion, and yet it is in perfect accordance
with a remarkable entry in his journal, under the date of October
14. He there most carefully examines his religious state by comparing
it with the text, “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old
things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” In many
respects, he judged himself a new creature; but, in others, he feared
that he was not. Earthly desires often arose within him, though he was
enabled to put them under his feet through Christ strengthening him.
To some extent, he possessed longsuffering, gentleness, meekness, and
temperance; but he had to complain of his want of love, peace, and joy.
He writes:—
“I cannot find in myself the love of God, or of Christ. Hence
my deadness and wanderings in public prayer: hence it is that,
even in the holy communion, I have frequently no more than a
cold attention. Again, I have not that joy in the Holy Ghost;
no settled, lasting joy. Nor have I such a peace as excludes
the possibility either of fear or doubt. When holy men have
told me I had no faith, I have often doubted whether I had
or no. And these doubts have made me very uneasy, till I was
relieved by prayer and the holy Scriptures. Yet, upon the
whole, although I have not yet that joy in the Holy Ghost,
nor the full assurance of faith,—much less am I, in the full
sense of the words, ‘in Christ a new creature,’—I nevertheless
trust that I have a measure of faith, and am ‘accepted in the
Beloved;’ I trust ‘the handwriting that was against me is
blotted out,’ and that I am ‘reconciled to God’ through His
Son.”
There is another entry, similar to this, under the date of December 16;
and again, on January 4, 1739, he uses even stronger language:—
“My friends affirm I am mad, because I said I was not a
Christian a year ago. I affirm, I am not a Christian now.
Indeed, what I might have been I know not, had I been faithful
to the grace then given, when, expecting nothing less, I
received such a sense of the forgiveness of my sins as till
then I never knew. But that I am not a Christian at this day, I
as assuredly know, as that Jesus is the Christ. For a Christian
is one who has the fruits of the Spirit of Christ, which (to
mention no more) are love, peace, joy. But these I have not. I
have not any love of God. I do not love either the Father or
the Son. Do you ask, how do I know whether I love God, I answer
by another question, ‘How do you know whether you love me?’
Why, as you know whether you are hot or cold. You feel this
moment that you do or do not love me. And I feel this moment
I do not love God; which therefore I know, because I feel it.
And I know it also by St. John’s plain rule, ‘If any man love
the world, the love of the Father is not in him.’ For I love
the world. I desire the things of the world, some or other of
them; and have done all my life. I have always placed some
part of my happiness in some or other of the things that are
seen, particularly in meat and drink, and in the company of
those I loved. For many years, I have been, yea, and still am,
hankering after a happiness, in loving and being loved by one
or another. And in these I have, from time to time, taken more
pleasure than in God.
“Again, joy in the Holy Ghost I have not. I have now and then
some starts of joy in God; but it is not that joy. For it is
not abiding. Neither is it greater than I have had on some
worldly occasions. So that I can in nowise be said to ‘rejoice
evermore;’ much less to ‘rejoice with joy unspeakable and full
of glory.’
“Yet again: I have not ‘the peace of God;’ that peace,
peculiarly so called. The peace I have may be accounted for
on natural principles. I have health, strength, friends, a
competent fortune, and a composed, cheerful temper. Who would
not have a sort of peace in such circumstances? But I have none
which can, with any propriety, be called ‘a peace which passeth
all understanding.’
“From hence I conclude, though I have given, and do give, all
my goods to feed the poor, I am not a Christian. Though I have
endured hardship, though I have in all things denied myself and
taken up my cross, I am not a Christian. My works are nothing;
my sufferings are nothing; I have not the fruits of the Spirit
of Christ. Though I have constantly used all the means of grace
for twenty years, I am not a Christian.”
This is extremely puzzling; but we are bound to give it as we find
it. It may be said that Wesley merely says, that “one who had had the
form of godliness many years wrote these reflections;” but, comparing
them with the two entries under the dates of October 14 and December
16, 1738, and with his letter to his brother Samuel, dated October
30, it would be folly to contend that he was not relating his own
experience. The reader must form his own opinion, and grapple with the
difficulties, thus presented, as he best can. Wesley acknowledges,
in the above extract, that, some months before, he “received such a
sense of the forgiveness of his sins as till then he never knew;” and
yet here we find him full of doubt, and writing the bitterest things
against himself.
Let us pursue his correspondence with his brother Samuel a little
farther. Wesley held the doctrine of the Spirit’s witness; though
he asserts he did not yet experience it. Samuel, in a letter dated
November 15, 1738, asks his brother “whether he will own or disown,
in terms, the necessity of a sensible information from God of
pardon?”[251] This was not a fair putting of the question. Wesley
had defined the πληροφορια πιστεως, or witness of the Spirit, as “the
love of God shed abroad in the heart, producing joy which no man
taketh away; joy unspeakable and full of glory:” but his brother here
changes the term _witness_, and what it meant, to the term “_sensible
information_,” that is, information received through the senses, thus
connecting with the witness visions and voices, and other Moravian
follies at that time rampant.
A fortnight later Wesley replied to this:—
“I believe every Christian, who has not yet received it, should
pray for the witness of God’s Spirit that he is a child of God.
This witness, I believe, is necessary for my salvation. How far
invincible ignorance may excuse others I know not. But this,
you say, is delusive and dangerous, because it encourages and
abets idle visions and dreams. It may do this accidentally, but
not essentially; but this is no objection against it; for, in
the same way, weak minds may pervert to an idle use every truth
in the oracles of God. Such visions, indeed, as you mention are
given up; but does it follow that visions and dreams in general
are bad branches of a bad root? God forbid. This would prove
more than you desire.”[252]
In answer, Samuel, on December 13, declares that his brother
misinterprets the witness of the Spirit, and refers him to a sermon
of Bishop Bull’s in proof. John replies, that Bishop Bull’s sermon is
full of gross perversions of Scripture; and adds: “I find more persons,
day by day, who experience a clear evidence of their being in a state
of salvation; but I never said this continues equally clear in all, as
long as they continue in a state of salvation.”[253]
Samuel’s answer is dated Tiverton, March 26, 1739, in which he argues
that the witness of the Spirit is not necessary to salvation; and
refers, in proof of this, to the case of baptized infants, and to
persons of a gloomy constitution.[254]
Nine days afterwards, Wesley re-asserted that he had seen many persons
changed in a moment from the spirit of horror, fear, and despair, to
the spirit of hope, joy, and peace; and from sinful desires, till
then reigning over them, to a pure desire of doing the will of God.
He also knew that this great change, in several persons, had been
wrought either in sleep, or during a strong representation, to the eye
of their minds, of Christ, either on the cross, or in glory. He also
argues, that his brother’s reference to infants and persons of a gloomy
constitution fails to sustain his point; because no kind of assurance
is essential to the salvation of infants; and persons of a gloomy
constitution, so far from being doomed to die without the assurance,
have, to his own certain knowledge, even when almost mad, been brought
in a moment into a state of firm, lasting peace and joy.[255]
Other letters might be quoted; but enough has been said to show the
views which Wesley now held concerning the witness of the Spirit. He
believed the witness was necessary to his own salvation; and, yet, he
declares he has it not. He asserts that he has known instances in which
it has been granted in dreams; but he does not insist that dreams are
an essential medium. The whole affair is puzzling. On May 24, 1738, he
“received such a sense of the forgiveness of sins as till then he never
knew;” and yet, months afterwards, he declares, in the most explicit
terms, that he was now living without the enjoyment of the Spirit’s
witness. How is this discrepancy to be explained? Had he lost the sense
of forgiveness which he received on May 24? Or was he attaching to
the witness of the Spirit a signification too high? If he had not the
witness at the beginning of 1739, when did he obtain it afterwards? All
these questions will naturally occur to the thoughtful reader; but they
are more easily asked than answered.
The simple truth seems to be, that while Wesley heard much among the
Moravians that was scriptural, he also heard much that was otherwise;
and paid more attention to their experiences, both in England and in
Germany, than was desirable, or for his good. His high opinion of the
people’s piety made it easy to believe even many of their foolish
statements. He got into a labyrinth, and could hardly tell where he
was. Months before, he had believed on Christ to the saving of his
soul; and yet now he bitterly exclaims that he is not a Christian.
He was, for a season, bewildered with the brightness of great truths
bursting for the first time on his vision, and with the distracting
glare of religious testimonies—new, but yet earnest and sincere—of
great importance, and yet mixed with much that was fanatical and
foolish. Out of such a maze this earnest man had to find his way as he
best could. We know his subsequent career, and we know the doctrines
that he taught. The mists of early education, and the vapours of
Moravian imagination, were soon scattered by the bright sunshine which
was shed upon him; and in the midst of which, to the end of his career,
he was wont to live, and to testify, “The testimony of the Spirit is
an inward impression on the soul, whereby the Spirit of God directly
witnesses to my spirit that I am a child of God; that Jesus Christ hath
loved me, and given Himself for me; and that all my sins are blotted
out, and I, even I, am reconciled to God.”[256]
Wesley had been brought into strange communion with Moravians in his
voyage to Georgia. At Savannah he had met with Spangenberg. On his
return to London he found Bohler, and was induced to become a member of
the first Moravian society, founded at Fetter Lane. The rules of that
society are before us, entitled, “Orders of a Religious Society meeting
in Fetter Lane; in obedience to the command of God by St. James, and
by the advice of Peter Boehler, May 1, 1738.” These rules provide for
a meeting of the members once a week, to confess their faults one to
another, and to pray for one another that they may be healed. A month
later, it was agreed that the persons thus meeting in _society_ should
be divided into _bands_, of not fewer than five or more than ten;
and that some one in each band should be desired to interrogate the
rest, and should be called the leader. Each band was to meet twice a
week; every person was to come punctually at the hour appointed; every
meeting was to begin and end with singing and prayer; and all the bands
were to have a conference every Wednesday night. Any person absenting
himself from his band-meeting, without some extraordinary reason,
was to be first privately admonished, and if he were absent a second
time, to be reproved before the whole society. Any member, desiring
or designing to take a journey, was first to have, if possible, the
approbation of the bands; and all who were in clubs were requested to
withdraw their names from such associations. Any one desiring to be
admitted was to be asked his reasons for this, and whether he would be
entirely open, using no kind of reserve, least of all in the case of
love or courtship. Every fourth Saturday was to be observed as a day
of general intercession, from twelve to two, from three to five, and
from six to eight o’clock; and, on one Sunday in every month, a general
lovefeast was to be held from seven till ten at night. In order to a
continual intercession, every member was to choose some hour, either of
the day or night, to spend in prayer, chiefly for his brethren; and, in
order to a continual fast, three of the members were to fast every day,
Sundays and holidays excepted, and spend as much of the day as possible
in retirement from business and in prayer. Each person was to pay to
the leader of his band, at least once a month, what he could afford
towards the general expenses; and any person not conforming to the
rules of the society, after being thrice admonished, was to be expelled.
Naturally enough, Wesley wished to know something more of the singular
people with whom he had been brought in contact; and accordingly, three
weeks after his conversion, he started for their chief settlement at
Herrnhuth, in Germany. One of his companions was his friend Ingham, and
another was John Toltschig,[257] one of the first fugitives who fled to
Herrnhuth from the fierce persecution in Moravia in 1724.
At Rotterdam, Dr. Koker, a physician, treated them with kindness; but
at Gondart several of the inns refused to entertain them, and it “was
with difficulty they at last found one which did them the favour to
take their money for their meat and drink, and the use of two or three
bad beds.”
On June 16, they arrived at Ysselstein, the home of Baron Watteville,
who had been a fellow student of Count Zinzendorf, and one of the young
gentlemen, at the academy in Halle, who about the year 1717 had formed
an association called “The Order of the Grain of Mustard Seed,” the
object of which was to promote the conversion of Jews and heathen.
At the time of Wesley’s visit Watteville was at the head of “a few
German brethren and sisters, and about eight” English Moravians, who
were living in three or four small houses, till one should be built
large enough to contain them all. Wesley and his friends spent a day
with them “in hearing the wonderful work which God was beginning to
work over all the earth,” and in making prayer to Him, “and giving
thanks for the mightiness of His kingdom.”
Proceeding to Amsterdam, Wesley and his companions were received with
great courtesy by Mr. Decknatel, a minister of the Mennonists, and
Dr. Barkhausen, a Muscovite physician. Here they spent four days, and
attended several society meetings, where “the expounding was in high
Dutch.”
On Sunday, June 26, they reached Cologne, “the ugliest, dirtiest city”
Wesley had ever seen. The cathedral he describes as “mere heaps upon
heaps; a huge, misshapen thing, without either symmetry or neatness
belonging to it.” Some will doubtless differ from Wesley’s judgment
concerning this magnificent though unfinished pile, so venerated for
its sanctity, derived from the monkish stories of the reliques of the
eleven thousand virgins and of the three eastern kings. Coming out of
it, one of Wesley’s companions scrupled to take off his hat as a popish
procession passed, when a papist cried, “Knock down the Lutheran dog,”
a mandate which would probably have been put into execution if the
offender had not made a timely escape from the zealot’s fury.
Embarking on the majestic Rhine, four days and nights were spent in
reaching Mayence, the boat in which Wesley travelled being drawn
by horses. This, however, gave him ample time to admire the almost
unequalled beauties of one of the finest rivers in the world. Arriving
faint and weary at Frankfort, they were refused admittance, because
they had no passports. It so happened, however, that Peter Bohler’s
father was resident in the city; and, by his interposition, they
procured an entrance, and were treated in the most friendly manner.
On Tuesday, July 4, they came to Marienborn, (about thirty-five miles
from Frankfort,) in the neighbourhood of which Zinzendorf, two years
before, had taken up his residence in an old, ruinous castle called
Ronneburg, and where he had established schools for poor children,
whom he fed and clothed at his own expense. Here also he had formed
a missionary congregation, consisting of forty students from Jena,
most of whom became ministers either in Europe or in missions to the
heathen.[258] The Moravian family altogether consisted of about ninety
persons, all living in a large house rented by Zinzendorf. Here Wesley
spent a fortnight, conversing with the brethren in Latin or English,
listening to the sermons of the count, and attending conferences and
intercession meetings. Writing to his brother Samuel, he says: “God has
given me at length the desire of my heart. I am with a church whose
conversation is in heaven; in whom is the mind that was in Christ, and
who so walks as He walked. As they have all one Lord and one faith,
so they are all partakers of one Spirit—the spirit of meekness and
love, which uniformly and continually animates all their conversation.
I believe, in a week, Mr. Ingham and I shall set out for Herrnhuth,
about three hundred and fifty miles hence. Oh pray for us, that God
would sanctify to us all those precious opportunities.”[259] It is an
odd fact, however, that while Ingham was allowed to partake of the
holy communion, Wesley was not, because “the congregation saw him to
be _homo perturbatus_, and that his head had gained an ascendancy over
his heart”; and also because “they were desirous not to interfere with
his plan of effecting good as a clergyman of the English Church.”[260]
Peculiar reasons—but we give them as we find them. Hampson, in his
life of Wesley, relates that Zinzendorf, who regarded him as a pupil,
ordered him one day to dig in the garden; and after Wesley had been
there for some time working in his shirt, and when he was in a high
state of perspiration, the lordly count commanded him to enter a
carriage that was waiting, to pay a visit to a neighbouring noble.
Wesley naturally wished to wash his hands and to put on his coat; but
his preceptor forbade him, saying, “You must be simple, my brother!”
This was a full answer to all remonstrance, and Wesley was simple
enough to obey the mandate of a man who, while professing great
humility, sometimes allowed the pretensions of his feudal pride to set
aside the meekness of his professed piety.
On the 19th of July, Wesley again set out, and on reaching Weimar
was brought before the duke, who asked his object in journeying to
Herrnhuth. Wesley answered, “To see the place where the Christians
live;” upon which the duke looked hard, but permitted him to go. On
arriving at Halle, “the King of Prussia’s tall men,” who kept the
gates, sent him and his friends backwards and forwards, from one gate
to another, for nearly two long hours before they were admitted. Here
he inspected, with the greatest interest, the Orphan House of August
Herman Francke, in which six hundred and fifty children were wholly
resident, and three thousand taught. At Leipsig, the gentlemen of
the university treated him with respect and kindness. At Meissen,
two things surprised him—the extremely beautiful china ware; and the
congregation in the church, where the women wore huge fur caps in the
shape of Turkish turbans; the men sat with their hats on their heads at
the prayers as well as at the sermon, and the parson was decorated with
a habit bedecked with gold and scarlet, and with a vast cross on both
his back and breast. At Dresden, Wesley was carried from one official
to another, with impertinent solemnity, for above two hours, before he
was suffered to settle at his inn; and greatly wondered that common
sense and common humanity allowed such a senseless, inhuman usage of
strangers.
Wesley arrived at the Moravian settlement at Herrnhuth on August 1, and
found it consisting of about a hundred houses built on a rising ground.
The principal erection was the orphan house, in the lower part of which
was the apothecary’s shop, and in the upper the chapel, capable of
containing six or seven hundred people. Here he spent nearly the next
fortnight.
The day after his arrival, he attended a lovefeast of the married
women; and on every day, at eleven, a Bible conference, at which was
read a portion of Scripture in the original. He was also present
at a conference for strangers, when several questions concerning
justification were resolved. He embraced all opportunities of
conversing with the most experienced of the brethren, concerning the
great work which God had wrought within them; and with the teachers and
elders concerning their church discipline.
On the Sunday, after the evening service, all the unmarried women,
according to their usual custom, walked round the town, singing
praise, with instruments of music; and then, on a small hill, at a
little distance from it, knelt in a circle and joined in prayer; after
which they joyously repaired to their respective homes.
Four times Wesley heard Christian David preach, and also received from
his own lips his private history. The boyhood of this remarkable man
was spent in tending sheep, and his youth and early manhood partly
at the carpenter’s bench, and partly in the soldier’s tent. He was
a zealous papist, and crawled on his knees before images, performed
penances, invoked departed saints, and went the whole round of
Romish vagaries. He was twenty years old before he had even seen a
Bible; after this, it became nearly the only book he read. The Bible
convinced him of the errors of Popery, and he resolved to join the
Lutherans. At the age of twenty-seven, he began to preach to his
countrymen; numbers were converted by his artless sermons; persecution
followed; the converts fled; and Herrnhuth was founded. Christian
David continued preaching in Moravia, until his preaching became the
topic of conversation in houses, streets, roads, and markets, and
the whole country was thrown into a state of great excitement. The
people assembled at each other’s houses to sing hymns and to read the
Bible. Shepherds chanted the praises of their Redeemer as they kept
their flocks; servants at their work talked of nothing but His great
salvation; and children on village greens poured out their fervent
prayers before Him. Many were imprisoned; others were thrust into
cellars and made to stand in water till they were well-nigh frozen;
not a few were loaded with irons and obliged to work as convicts;
and a whole host were condemned to pay heavy fines. All this arose
out of the preaching of the unlettered preacher whom Wesley heard at
Herrnhuth,—the _Bush Preacher_, as he was called by the persecuting
priests and jesuits of Moravia,—the man who, five years previous to
Wesley’s present visit, conducted the first missionaries to Greenland,
and who, though but a poor mechanic, preached to the court of the
king of Denmark as he went,—an itinerant evangelist of no mean order,
having paid eleven gospel visits to Moravia, three to Greenland, and
many others to Denmark, England, and Holland, besides visiting all the
Moravian congregations throughout the whole of Germany,—a man who,
when he happened to be at home at Herrnhuth, and not engaged in active
services for the church, always followed his trade as a carpenter,
and secured the respect and love of both young and old,—a man who
often made mistakes, but was always ready to confess his errors when
pointed out to him,—deeply devoted to the work of Christ, and living
in the closest communion with Him,—shunning no toil, and fearing no
danger,—reading the Bible continually, and never tiring of its precious
truths,—his sermons wanting in polish, but not in power,—for more than
thirty years an itinerant, out-door German preacher,—and who in 1751,
at the age of sixty, went triumphantly to heaven.[261]
Such was the preaching mechanic whom Wesley, the scholar and the
priest, embraced every opportunity of hearing during his Herrnhuth
visit,—a fair specimen of scores in England whom Wesley, during the
next half-century, employed in the same glorious work. The philosopher
may sneer at the sight of one of the most distinguished fellows of
Lincoln College sitting in the Herrnhuth chapel and in the carpenter’s
cottage, to be taught by a man like this; but let it be remembered that
while the Oxford student, in letters, was immeasurably superior to the
German mechanic, the German mechanic was as much superior to the Oxford
student in the science of saving truth; and besides that, he spoke not
only from clear convictions, but from personal experience. Even now
many a man, profoundly learned in languages and in philosophy, might
receive knowledge more important than any he already has, if he would
condescend to imitate Wesley’s example, and stoop to be taught by some
poor itinerating preacher, who, though a wayfaring man, and in all
other things a fool, is yet “wise unto salvation through faith which is
in Christ Jesus.”
The four sermons which Wesley heard Christian David preach were
peculiarly appropriate to his present religious state. It is a notable
fact, however, that instead of instructing Wesley to expect the witness
of the Spirit immediately, he taught him “that many are children of
God and heirs of the promises, long before they are comforted by the
abiding witness of the Spirit, melting their souls into all gentleness
and meekness; and much more before they are pure in heart from all
self-will and sin.” Christian David told Wesley, in private, that he
had “the forgiveness of sins, and a measure of the peace of God, for
many years before he had that witness of the Spirit which shut out
all doubt and fear.” This is not _Wesleyan_ doctrine; but it was the
doctrine which Wesley was taught in Germany, and which helped to keep
him in that doubting and fearing state in which we have already seen
him.
Wesley elicited the religious experience of Michael Linner, the oldest
member of the church, which was to the effect that Michael believed to
the saving of his soul two years before he received the full assurance
of faith; though he admitted that the more usual method is for the
Holy Spirit “to give, in one and the same moment, the forgiveness of
sins, and a full assurance of that forgiveness.” David Nitschmann, one
of the four public teachers of the Herrnhuth community, told Wesley
that, for years after he was delivered from the bondage of sin, he was
troubled with doubts and fears. Martin Döber stated: “It is common for
persons to receive justification through faith in the blood of Christ
before they receive the full assurance of faith, which God many times
withholds till He has tried whether they will work together with Him in
the use of the first gift.” Augustine Neusser said he could not tell
the hour or day when he first received the full assurance that his sins
were pardoned; for it was not given at once, but grew within him by
degrees. David Schneider’s experience was substantially the same; but
it is right to add, that the experience of others was of a brighter
kind, and confirmative of the scriptural doctrine that, when sins are
forgiven, the Spirit, at the same moment, gives the assurance of it.
Wesley eagerly listened to the recital of these religious experiences
at Herrnhuth, and became bewildered; and hence those puzzling
declarations concerning his own religious state, even down to the
beginning of 1739, which have been already given. The truth is, both
Wesley and the Moravians seemed to confound the doctrine of the
Spirit’s witness with the doctrine of sanctification. Because they
were not, for a season, wholly sanctified, they declare that they had
not the witness of the Spirit or the full assurance of faith. The
following, for instance, is Arvid Gradin’s description of that witness
or assurance: “Repose in the blood of Christ; a firm confidence in God,
and persuasion of His favour; serene peace and steadfast tranquillity
of mind, with a deliverance from every fleshly desire, and from every
outward and inward sin.” This is a beautiful description of what the
Methodists mean by entire sanctification; but Wesley, taught by the
Herrnhuth Moravians, confounded it, for a time, with what he called
“the witness of the Spirit,—full assurance of faith;” the result being
the use of language, in reference to himself, quite sufficient to
perplex the modern Methodist, who, without paying attention to these
Moravian facts, contents himself with merely comparing the lucid
language of Wesley’s sermons with the confused and confusing language
of those parts of Wesley’s journal to which we are now adverting.
Wesley spent nearly a fortnight among the Herrnhuth Christians. He
writes:—“I would gladly have spent my life here. Oh when shall this
Christianity cover the earth, as the waters cover the sea?” The
population was divided into about ninety bands, each of which met twice
at least, but most of them three times, a week, to “confess their
faults one to another, and to pray for one another that they might
be healed.” The rulers of the church had a conference every week,
purely concerning the state of souls; and another every day on the
outward matters of the church. Once a week, there was a conference for
strangers; at which any one might be present, and propose questions
or doubts which he desired to have resolved. The children and young
people were taught reading, writing, arithmetic, Latin, Greek, Hebrew,
French, English, history, and geography. Every morning at eight,
the community had singing, Scripture exposition, and commonly short
prayer; and the same at eight in the evening, concluding each service
with the kiss of peace. On Sundays, service began at six; at nine,
they had public worship at Bertholdsdorf; at one, the members of
the church were divided into fourteen classes, to each of which was
addressed a separate exhortation; at four, there was service again at
Bertholdsdorf; and at eight, the usual nightly service; after which the
young men went round the town singing songs of praise; and thus the
day was ended. On the first Saturday of every month, the Lord’s supper
was administered: when, from ten till two, the eldest spoke with each
communicant in private, concerning his or her spiritual experience;
at two, they dined, and then washed one another’s feet; after which
they sung and prayed; about ten at night, they received the communion
in silence without any ceremony; and continued without speaking, till
midnight, when they parted. The second Saturday was occupied as the
solemn prayer-day for the children. The third was a day of general
intercession and thanksgiving. And the fourth was the great monthly
conference of all the superiors of the church. For the last eleven
years, they had kept up a perpetual intercession, which had never
ceased day or night, by different companies spending in succession
an hour every day in prayer for themselves and for other churches.
Marriage was highly reverenced, and no young people were allowed to
be affianced without being placed for a time with married persons,
who instructed them how to behave in their contemplated new relation.
Casting lots was used both in public and private, to decide points
of importance, when the reasons on each side appeared to be of equal
weight. The time usually spent in sleep was from eleven at night till
four in the morning; three hours a day were allowed for meals; leaving
sixteen for work and sacred services.
Such was Herrnhuth in 1738, the cradle of the modern Moravian
church,—the Jerusalem of the United Brethren. At present it has about
a thousand inhabitants, is well built, well paved, and scrupulously
clean; having in its centre a large square, in which stands the hall
for worship, at the original consecration of which Zinzendorf offered
the striking prayer, “May God prevent this house standing longer than
it continues to be a dwelling place of love and peace to the praise of
the Redeemer!” On one side of the square is what was once the residence
of Zinzendorf, now the depôt of Moravian archives; on another, the
house of the unmarried brethren; and on a third, the village inn, the
property of the community. Connection with the brotherhood, except in
special cases conceded by their church authorities, is a condition of
residence in the town; and up to 1848, by the laws of Saxony, any one
who forsook the faith could be compelled to sell whatever property he
had within its boundaries. This is now altered, and the only compulsion
that can be exercised is of a moral character. Still, even yet, with
the exception of the government officials, and a few privileged
individuals, the entire community are members of the Moravian church.
Here sprang up that wondrous brotherhood, which, whilst other churches
were surrendering the great doctrines of the cross, devoted its life
and energies to their world-wide propagation, and, with a faith
which to some seemed presumption, and a love which approached to the
character of a reverential friendship, went among slumbering peoples
and savage races, insisting on the necessity of personal faith in a
personal Redeemer, and declaring that life in Christ is the highest
life of man.[262]
Wesley left Herrnhuth on August 12, and reached London on Saturday,
September 16. He at once resumed his work by preaching thrice the next
day, and afterwards expounding in the Minories. On Monday, he rejoiced
to meet with the Moravian society at Fetter Lane, which had increased
from ten members to thirty-two; and, on Tuesday, he went to the
condemned felons in Newgate, and preached to them a free salvation.
A month subsequent to his return, he wrote as follows to his Herrnhuth
friends:—
“To the church of God which is in Herrnhuth, John Wesley, an
unworthy presbyter of the church of God in England, wisheth
all grace and peace in our Lord Jesus Christ. Glory be to God,
even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! for giving me to be
an eye-witness of your faith and love and holy conversation in
Christ Jesus. We are endeavouring here to be followers of you,
as ye are of Christ. Fourteen have been added to us since our
return, so that we have now eight bands, all of whom seek for
salvation only in the blood of Christ. As yet, we have only
two small bands of women; the one of three, the other of five
persons. But here are many others, who only wait till we have
leisure to instruct them how they may most effectually build up
one another in the faith and love of Him who gave Himself for
them.
“Though my brother and I are not permitted to preach in most of
the churches in London, yet there are others left, wherein we
have liberty to speak the truth as it is in Jesus. Likewise,
every evening, and on set evenings in the week, at two several
places, we publish the word of reconciliation, sometimes to
twenty or thirty, sometimes to fifty or sixty, sometimes to
three or four hundred persons, met together to hear it. We
begin and end all our meetings with singing and prayer; and we
know that our Lord heareth prayer, having more than once or
twice received our petitions in that very hour.
“Nor hath He left Himself without other witnesses of His grace
and truth. Ten ministers I know now in England, who lay the
right foundation, ‘the blood of Christ cleanseth us from all
sin.’ Over and above whom I have found one Anabaptist, and one,
if not two, of the teachers among the Presbyterians here, who I
hope love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, and teach the way
of God in truth.”[263]
There are three facts in the above quotation which deserve notice:—1.
That Wesley was thoroughly identified with the London Moravians. 2.
That there were other clergymen besides himself who were evangelical.
3. That he still retained his high church nonsense, and made a
difference between Church of England “_ministers_,” and Anabaptist and
Presbyterian “_teachers_.” This last was pitiable folly, perhaps not to
be wondered at, and yet deserving to be despised.
About the same time, Wesley wrote to Zinzendorf at Marienborn, thanking
him and his countess for their kindness, and then adding:—
“I did not return hither at all before the time; for though a
great door and effectual had been opened, the adversaries had
laid so many stumbling-blocks before it, that the weak were
daily turned out of the way. Numberless misunderstandings had
arisen, by means of which the way of truth was much blasphemed;
and, hence, had sprung anger, clamour, bitterness, evil
speaking, envyings, strifes, railings, evil surmises; whereby
the enemy had gained such an advantage over the little flock,
that ‘of the rest durst no man join himself to them.’ But it
has now pleased our blessed Master to remove, in great measure,
these rocks of offence. The word of the Lord again runs and is
glorified; and this work goes on and prospers. Great multitudes
are everywhere awakened, and cry out, ‘What must we do to
be saved?’ The love and zeal of our brethren in Holland and
Germany, particularly at Herrnhuth, have stirred up many among
us, who will not be comforted till they also partake of the
great and precious promises. I hope to see them at least once
more, were it only to speak freely on a few things which I did
not approve, perhaps because I did not understand them.”[264]
The last sentence requires explanation. Notwithstanding his general
admiration of the German Moravians, their sun was not without spots,
for there were sundry things with which Wesley was not satisfied. What
were they? Wesley himself shall answer. The following is an unfinished
letter, written to the Moravians at Marienborn and Herrnhuth, a few
days only after Wesley’s return from Germany, but which was never sent:—
“MY DEAR BRETHREN,—I cannot but rejoice in your stedfast faith,
in your love to our blessed Redeemer, your deadness to the
world, your meekness, temperance, chastity, and love of one
another. I greatly approve of your conferences and bands; of
your methods of instructing children; and, in general, of your
great care of the souls committed to your charge.
“But of some other things I stand in doubt, which I will
mention in love and meekness.
“Is not the count all in all among you?
“Do you not magnify your own church too much?
“Do you not use guile and dissimulation in many cases?
“Are you not of a close, dark, reserved temper and
behaviour?”[265]
These were weighty accusations, and will claim attention hereafter.
Within five weeks after Wesley had returned from Germany, he and his
brother Charles waited upon Dr. Edmund Gibson, Bishop of London, to
answer the complaints he had heard against them, to the effect that
they preached an absolute assurance of salvation. Gibson was a man
of great natural abilities, a laborious student, and also pious; but
he was occasionally betrayed into intolerance, and sometimes evinced
more zeal for the rights of the Church than discretion. So great was
his ecclesiastical power, that Sir Robert Walpole was accustomed to be
reproached with allowing him the authority of a pope: “And a very good
pope he is,” replied the premier. The two Wesleys being introduced to
him, he said, “If by assurance you mean an inward persuasion, whereby
a man is conscious in himself, after examining his life by the law
of God, and weighing his own sincerity, that he is in a state of
salvation, and acceptable to God, I don’t see how any good Christian
can be without such assurance.” The Wesleys meant more by “assurance”
than this; but the doctrine, so far as it went, was one which they
themselves preached. The next point discussed was the charge that
they were Antinomians, because they preached justification by faith
only. To this they replied, “Can any one preach otherwise, who agrees
to our church and the Scriptures?” A third charge was that they had
administered baptism to persons dissatisfied with the lay baptism which
they had already received. Wesley answered, with more high church
bigotry than scriptural enlightenment, that “if a person dissatisfied
with lay baptism,” or, in other words, Dissenters’ baptism, “should
desire episcopal, he should think it his duty to administer it.”
Wesley next inquired of his lordship if “his reading in a religious
society made it a conventicle;” and whether “religious societies are
conventicles.” To the latter question the bishop answered, “I think
not; but I determine nothing;” and he recommended them to read the acts
and laws on the subject for themselves. They then requested that he
would not, in future, receive an accusation against them, but at the
mouth of two or three witnesses. He said, “No, by no means; and you may
have free access to me at all times.” They thanked his lordship, and
departed.[266]
This was the first muttering of the storm soon to burst upon them.
William Warburton was not yet a bishop, but he was already a vigorous
and well known writer, and rector of Brand Broughton, in Lincolnshire.
This hot-headed parson was one of the first to fall foul upon the poor
Methodists. Writing to Des Maizeaux, in 1738, he says:—
“What think you of our new set of fanatics, called the
Methodists? There is one Wesley, who told a friend of mine,
that he had lived most deliciously last summer in Georgia,
sleeping under trees, and feeding on boiled maize, sauced with
the ashes of oak leaves; and that he will return thither, and
then will cast off his English dress, and wear a dried skin,
like the savages, the better to ingratiate himself with them.
It would be well for virtue and religion if this humour would
lay hold generally of our overheated bigots, and send them to
cool themselves in the Indian marshes.”
In another letter, written in the same year to Dr. Birch, he says:—
“A couple of these Methodists, of whom Wesley was one,
travelling into this neighbourhood on foot, took up their
lodging with a clergyman of their acquaintance. The master of
the house going into their chamber in the morning to salute
them, perceived a certain vessel full of blood, and, on asking
the occasion, was told it was _their method_, when the blood
grew rebellious, to draw it off by breathing a vein; that they
had been heated with travel, and thought it proper to cool
themselves.”[267]
Such are specimens of the foul falsehoods which malignant men already
circulated concerning Wesley and his companions. But, besides this, the
Methodist movement began to be noticed by the pulpit. The Rev. Tipping
Silvester, M.A., Fellow of Pembroke College, Oxford, and Lecturer of
St. Bartholomew the Great, London, preached a sermon on regeneration
before the university of Oxford, at St. Mary’s, on February 26, which,
without mentioning the names of the Methodist leaders, was evidently
meant to be an antidote to one of their distinguished doctrines. The
sermon was published, 8vo, twenty-eight pages, and on the title page
was “recommended to the religious societies.” The chief point in the
sermon is that infants are born again in baptism.
Another sermon, on “The Doctrine of Assurance,” was delivered on August
13, in the church of St. Lawrence Jewry, by the Rev. Arthur Bedford,
M.A., chaplain to his royal highness Frederick Prince of Wales. This
also, with an appendix, was published, 8vo, thirty-nine pages, and
had an extensive circulation. It was avowedly intended to refute the
doctrine of “those who had of late asserted that they who are not
assured of their salvation, by a revelation from the Holy Ghost, are
in a state of damnation.” The preacher argues that this assurance “is
given to very few, and perhaps only to such whom God calls either to
extraordinary services, or to extraordinary sufferings.” He further
argues that to profess to have received such an assurance savours of
spiritual pride, and cannot but produce bad results.
These were the first sermons published against the doctrines of
Methodism, and both of them were extremely temperate when compared with
others following.
At the end of the year 1738, Wesley drew up a set of rules for the
regulation of the Moravian band societies, some of which were
certainly more inquisitive than wise. Eleven questions, to be proposed
to candidates for admission, were, upon the whole, unexceptionable;
but five others, to be asked of every member at every weekly meeting,
savour far too much of the popish confessional to be admired. We give
them as an indication of the still unhealthy tone of Wesley’s piety:—
“1. What known sins have you committed since our last meeting?
“2. What temptations have you met with?
“3. How were you delivered?
“4. What have you thought, said, or done, of which you doubt whether it
be sin or not?
“5. Have you nothing you desire to keep secret?”[268]
No doubt, such questions were put with the best intentions; but the
thing looked like a prurient prying into secrets which properly belong
alone to a man and his Maker.
The whole of Wesley’s publications, during 1738, have been already
noticed, except “A Collection of Psalms and Hymns,” eighty-four pages,
12mo. This small volume was published without the name of either
printer or author; but it contains ample internal evidence of its
origin. Its publication was contemplated immediately after Wesley’s
return from Georgia; and hence the following extract from a letter
written by Dr. Byrom to Charles Wesley, on the 3rd of March, 1738.
“As your brother has brought so many hymns translated from the
French, you will have a sufficient number, and no occasion to
increase them by the small addition of Mademoiselle Bourignon’s
two little pieces. I desire you to favour my present weakness,
if I judge wrong, and not to publish them.
“I do not at all desire to discourage your publication. But
when you tell me you write, not for the critic, but for the
Christian, it occurs to my mind that you might as well write
for _both_; or in such a manner that the critic may, by your
writing, be moved to turn Christian, rather than the Christian
turn critic. I should be wanting, I fear, in speaking freely
and friendly upon this matter, if I did not give it as my
humble opinion that, before you publish, you might lay before
some experienced Christian critics the design which you are
upon. But I speak this with all submission. It is very likely
that, in these matters, I may want a spur more than you want a
bridle.”[269]
The book was probably intended for the use of the Moravian bands and
other religious societies’ meetings in London, with which Wesley was
more or less connected. It contains seventy psalms and hymns; but it is
a remarkable fact that not one of them seems to have been written by
Wesley’s brother Charles. One each is contributed by Addison, Dryden,
and Lord Roscommon. One is from the Church liturgy, and one anonymous.
Three are by Bishop Ken; four by Norris; six by Herbert; thirteen by
Tate and Brady; thirty-three by Watts; and six are translations by
Wesley himself. The book was never reprinted; but it formed the basis
of another hymn-book, published three years after, in which exactly
one-half of its psalms and hymns were embodied.[270] It was the
first[271] of about forty hymnologies published by the two brothers
during the next half-century, and which, as priceless gems, were
scattered broadcast among the first Methodists.
With Wesley’s first hymn-book we close the first section of his
history.
PART II.
1739.
[Sidenote: 1739 Age 36]
London in 1739 was widely different from what it is at present. The
population, including Westminster and all the parishes within the
Bills of Mortality, was about 600,000, or a fifth of the population
now. London Bridge was the only highway across the majestic Thames
that the Londoners possessed; and that was covered with antique
houses, from end to end, forming a sort of picturesque extension of
Gracechurch Street, from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore,—a narrow,
darksome, and dangerous thoroughfare with an arched gateway at each
end of it, generally bristling with spikes, and often adorned with
the heads of traitors. The site of the present Mansion House was
a fruit market, having on one side of it a row of shady trees and
on the other a conduit, surmounted by an equestrian statue of King
Charles II. Islington, Hoxton, Hackney, and Bethnal Green were country
villages. On the Surrey side, all beyond the King’s Bench prison was
fields and open country. The Elephant and Castle stands where the
small hamlet of Newington then stood. Walworth, Camberwell, Brixton,
Peckham, and Clapham were rural haunts, far from the hum and noise
of the great city. Even Lambeth was a vast conglomerated garden,
extending from Kennington Common to what is now Westminster Bridge.
Eastward—Blackwall, Poplar, Bow, and Stepney were somewhat distant
collections of scattered houses, surrounded respectively by fields and
gardens. Westward—Chelsea, Knightsbridge, Marylebone, and Tottenham
Court were all in open country. Even Belgravia was a farm of arable and
pasture land; while all the space, between Westminster and what is now
Vauxhall Bridge, was a dreary tract of stunted, dusty, trodden grass,
the resort of badgerbaiters and other rampant blackguards, and known
by the name of Tothill Fields.
Moorfields, the scene of Wesley’s earliest evangelistic labours, and
where he opened his Foundery meeting-house, was what would now-a-days
be called a park, laid out in grass plots, intersected by broad gravel
walks, and the favourite resort of citizens seeking exercise and
recreation. Beneath a row of well grown elms was what the promenaders
designated “the city mall,” and which in the smartness of its company
often rivalled the mall of St. James’s Park. Here might be seen wives
and daughters flaunting in all their finery and displaying their charms
to city maccaronis, whose hats were cocked diagonally, and who gave
themselves quite as many airs as the aristocratic coxcombs in the royal
grounds. Under the trees were booths, whose fans, toys, trinkets, and
confectionery found ready purchasers; while on the grass plots were
erected mountebank diversions for the amusement of the people.
What a contrast between London then and London now! And yet, even then,
London was thought to be dangerously too large. An able writer, in one
of the magazines for 1762, argued that great cities are perilous to a
nation’s welfare; and in proof quoted Nineveh, Babylon, Persepolis,
Tyre, Carthage, Rome, Athens, Memphis, Baalbec, Palmyra, Thebes,
Jerusalem, etc. He contended that it was pernicious policy to suffer
the eighth part of an entire nation to live in one crowded town; for
when so many myriads lived on ground which produced nothing they were
under the necessity of living by their wits—that is, by sharping and
over-reaching, and by inventing idle and vicious amusements. Hence
it was that in London there was such a multiplication of playhouses,
operas, ridottos, and masquerades; and that almost one-half of some of
the London parishes was converted into brothels by bawds and pimps. The
anonymous alarmist was doubtless treated with contempt, but his theory
deserves attention.
London was great, but it was wicked. And no wonder. Riches in the case
of nations, as in the case of individuals, often lead to extravagance
and luxury. Thus it was in England, in the reign of the second George.
Superb edifices rose up on every hand, almost vieing with the palaces
of princes. Carriages, glittering with gold and crystal, rattled
over city pavements with the utmost ostentation. Ridottos, balls,
masquerades, and midnight banquets, were of constant occurrence.
Every night innumerable lamps illuminated public gardens, where hosts
of fashionable and licentious fops might be seen lolling in gilded
alcoves, killing time, and lulling their senses into an indolent
oblivion. Arrayed in masks and the strangest dresses, gamblers, actors,
and prostitutes mingled with persons of riches and of rank, and, amid
the din of music and of dancing, conversed obscene discourse, and
whispered indecent slanders. All classes caught the contagion, and
even the tables of shopkeepers and mechanics were covered with costly
dainties. Clerks and apprentices, servant-maids and cooks, decked
themselves in apparel equal to that of their masters and mistresses;
and finical sparks deemed it their privilege and right to frequent
taverns, clubs, and theatres, adorned with the finest clothes, perukes,
and jewellery.
What resulted from all this? Extravagance created greater wants than
the people had means to meet. Patrimonial estates, and the gains of
honest business were not enough to satisfy newly engendered appetites;
and hence men appealed to an infernal sorceress, to correct, forsooth,
the errors made in distributing the gifts of Providence. To eke out
means which were found too scanty to gratify licentious and luxurious
passions, robbery was made polite, and gambling an every day duty.
Idleness threw the dice, and Folly built them into castles; Avarice
clutched at gold, but Fraud, with a sly and quick conveyance, snatched
it from his hand. Even ladies laid wagers at home, while their lords
gambled abroad; and dice began to rattle on the costermonger’s barrow
as well as upon the hazard tables of the noble and the rich. Money
was looked upon as omnipotent; and the more men got the more they
wanted, and especially when it was spent upon their own indulgences. An
avaricious, mercenary spirit became general, and chiefly for the sake
of vain display and sensual pleasures.
Poverty treads in the footsteps of extravagance. There were more
equipages kept, and yet more taxes for the poor imposed; more
diversions, and yet more want; more ladies of taste, and yet fewer
housewives; more pomp, and yet less hospitality; more expense, and yet
less frugality. In 1744, the grand jury of the county of Middlesex made
a presentment to the effect, that “the advertisements in the newspapers
were seducing the people to places for the encouragement of luxury,
extravagance, and idleness; and that, by this means, families were
ruined, and the kingdom dishonoured; and that, unless some superior
authority put a stop to such riotous living, they feared it would lead
to the destruction of the nation.”
The town abounded with men who regarded honour, honesty, and virtue
as the merest phantoms;—men with whom promises were not binding,
obligations were nullities, and impudence a duty;—dastards who might
slander their neighbours, ridicule their superiors, be saucy to their
equals, insolent to their inferiors, and abusive to all; to-day
spaniels, to-morrow bullies, and at all times cowards; to whom learning
was a burden, and books were baubles; vice being their delight, and
virtue their aversion; demons in disguise, all order and symmetry
without, and yet all rancour and rottenness within.
The country was an apt imitator of the vices of the town. There the
squire, having, by idleness and bad company, forgotten the little
learning he acquired at college, too often devoted himself to drinking
and debauchery; while the common people were ignorant, superstitious,
brutal, and bad behaved. Workmen entered into combinations to extort
higher wages than their labour merited, or than their masters could
afford; and even parliament had to pass enactments limiting the
salaries of tailors. Smuggling was enormous; and, in 1744, it was
calculated that, in the county of Suffolk only, not fewer than 4,500
horses were employed in carrying merchandise of a contraband character.
This dark picture might easily be enlarged, not from posterior
writings, or even from the religious publications of the period, but
from periodicals, magazines, and newspapers, which had no temptation to
represent the customs, manners, usages, and vices of the age in a worse
aspect than was warranted by facts. Wesley, as will be seen hereafter,
used strong and startling language; but there is nothing in Wesley’s
writings which exceeds the hideous delineations found in the popular
literature published contemporaneously by other impartial and mere
worldly writers, who are above suspicion. The _Weekly Miscellany_ for
1732 broadly asserts that the people were engulfed in voluptuousness
and business; and that a zeal for godliness looked as odd upon a man
as would the antiquated dress of his great grandfather. It states that
freethinkers were formed into clubs, to propagate their tenets, and to
make the nation a race of profligates; and that atheism was scattered
broadcast throughout the kingdom. It affirms that it was publicly
avowed that vice was profitable to the state; that the country would
be benefited by the establishment of public stews; and that polygamy,
concubinage, and even sodomy were not sinful.
In many respects the reign of the second George bore a striking
resemblance to the present day. There was unexampled wealth, followed
by luxury, display, dissipation, gambling, irreligion, and wickedness.
The pastoral letters of Bishop Gibson, published at this period, show
that most pernicious efforts were put forth to undermine religion,
and to make men infidels. One class of writers laboured to set aside
all Christian ordinances, the Christian ministry, and a Christian
church. Another so allegorized the meaning of the miracles of Christ,
as to take away their reality. Others displayed the utmost zeal for
natural religion in opposition to revealed; and all, or most, under the
pretence of pleading for the liberties of men, ran into the wildest
licentiousness. Reason was recommended as a full and sufficient guide
in matters of religion, and the Scriptures were to be believed only as
they agreed or disagreed with the light of nature.
The same causes give birth to the same effects. Things reproduce
themselves. The words of Solomon are as truthful now as when he wrote
them,—“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.”
By reviving religion, Methodism saved the nation more than a hundred
years ago; and now that the nation presents the same aspect, to a
great extent, as it presented then, and is threatened with the same
disasters, is it not certain that nothing but an agency analogous to
the Methodism then raised up will be found sufficient to check the
progress of antiquated errors now revived; to stem the aboundings of
licentiousness; and to make men feel that wealth is given, not to be
spent in display and luxury, but in honouring God, and in promoting the
happiness of the human race?
The revival of religion, which occurred about the time when Methodism
commenced its marvellous career, was a world-wide one.
The Moravian movement in Germany has been already noticed.
In America, the work began in 1729, the very year in which the Oxford
Methodists formed their first society. The Rev. Jonathan Edwards
fanned the fire into a holy flame by preaching the grand old doctrine
of “justification by faith alone.” In the town of Northampton, New
England, containing two hundred families, there was scarcely a single
person at the beginning of the year 1735 who was not deeply convinced
of sin, and earnestly seeking salvation; and from day to day, for
months, there were undeniable instances of genuine conversion. Almost
every house was a house of prayer, and, in all companies, Christ was
the theme of public conversation. The revival which commenced at
Northampton spread throughout the greater part of the colony. All sorts
of people,—high and low, rich and poor, wise and unwise, moral and
immoral,—simultaneously became the subjects of the Spirit’s strivings,
and were converted. This remarkable movement took place only a few
months before Wesley set sail for Georgia, and continued for several
years afterwards. Mr. Edwards published a narrative of its most
striking incidents; and also his “Thoughts” as to “the way in which it
ought to be acknowledged and promoted;” and from these two invaluable
treatises we collect the following facts.
In many instances, conviction of sin and conversion were attended with
intense physical excitement. Numbers fell prostrate on the ground,
and cried aloud for mercy. The bodies of others were convulsed and
benumbed. As chaos preceded creation, so in New England confusion went
before conversion. The work was great and glorious, but was accompanied
with noise and tumult. Men literally _cried_ for mercy; but the loudest
outcries were not so loud as the shrieks of Voltaire or Volney,
when the prospect of eternity unmanned them. Stout-hearted sinners
trembled; but not more than philosophers at the present day would do,
if they had equally vivid views of the torments of the damned to which
sin exposes them. There were groanings and faintings; transports and
ecstasies; zeal sometimes more fervid than discreet; and passion not
unfrequently more powerful than pious; but, from one end of the land
to the other, multitudes of vain thoughtless sinners were unmistakably
converted, and were made new creatures in Christ Jesus. Frolicking,
night walking, singing lewd songs, tavern haunting, profane speaking,
and extravagance in dress, were generally abandoned. The talk of the
people was about the favour of God, an interest in Christ, a sanctified
heart, and spiritual blessedness here and hereafter. The country was
full of meetings of persons of all sorts and ages to read, pray, and
sing praises. Oftentimes the people were wrought up into the highest
transports of love, joy, and admiration, and had such views of the
Divine perfections, and the excellencies of Christ, that, for five or
six hours together, their souls reposed in a kind of sacred elysium,
until the body seemed to sink beneath the weight of Divine discoveries,
and nature was deprived of all ability to stand or speak. Connected
with all this, there were no enthusiastic impulses, or supposed
revelations, but trembling reverence, the mildest meekness, and warmest
charity. To use Edwards’ own language, “The New Jerusalem, in this
respect, had begun to come down from heaven, and perhaps never were
more of the prelibations of heaven’s glory given upon earth.”
Of course there were men who opposed and maligned this blessed work of
God’s Holy Spirit; or, at all events, did their utmost to discredit
it by exposing, as they thought, the infirmities of those who were
the chief agents used in promoting it. Ministers were blamed for
their earnestness in voice and gesture, and for addressing themselves
rather to the passions of their hearers than their reason. Others were
censured for preaching the terrors of the law too frequently, and for
frightening the people with hell-fire discourses. Objections were
raised against so much time being spent in religious meetings; though
the objectors had been significantly silent when the selfsame persons
had formerly spent quite as much time, and even more, in taverns,
and in sinful pleasures. Some were disgusted at the new converts so
passionately warning, inviting, and entreating others to be saved. Some
found fault with so much singing, forgetting that singing is one of the
great employments of the beatified in heaven; and others found equal
fault with children being allowed to meet together to read and pray,
thus, unintentionally perhaps, resembling the priests and scribes,
who were sore displeased when the children saluted Christ by shouting
“Hosannah in the highest!” Thus did men mutter discontent when they
ought to have sung praises; and not a few fell into the sin of those
in olden times, who said concerning Christ, “He casteth out devils by
Beelzebub, the prince of devils.”
At the very time that this marvellous religious revival broke out in
America, a similar work was begun in Wales. Howel Harris was born at
Trevecca in 1714, and, a few months before the Wesleys went to Georgia,
found the forgiveness of sins, and was made unutterably happy by a
Divine assurance of his adoption into the family of God. The Wesleys,
however, had no acquaintance with him, nor he with them. While they
were on the ocean he left his home in Wales, and entered the university
from which they had so recently departed; but here he was so distressed
with collegiate immoralities, that, after keeping but a single term,
he returned to his native hills, and, without orders, began at once
to preach the salvation which he himself experienced. It is a curious
fact, not generally noticed, that the first lay preacher, in the great
Methodist movement, was Howel Harris. He commenced preaching in Wales
just when the Wesleys and Ingham commenced in Georgia; and, before
Wesley reached Bristol in 1739, had been the means of a most glorious
work being wrought in the neighbouring principality. Up to this period
the morals of the Welsh were deplorably corrupt; and in this respect
there was no difference between rich and poor, ministers and people;
gluttony, drunkenness, and licentiousness were general. In the pulpits
of parish churches the name of Christ was hardly ever uttered; and, in
1736, there were only six Dissenting chapels throughout the whole of
northern Wales.
Harris first commenced visiting from house to house in his own native
parish, and in neighbouring ones. Then the people flocked together,
and, almost without knowing it, he began to preach. The magistrates and
clergy threatened him; but their threats failed to silence him. For
a maintenance, he set up a school, and meantime continued preaching.
Numbers were convinced of sin, and these the young preacher, only
twenty-two years of age, formed into small societies analogous to
those of which he had read in Dr. Woodward’s History. At the end of
1737, persecuting malice ejected him from his school; but, as in other
instances so in this, it overshot its mark; for this, instead of
silencing the preacher, made him preach more than ever. He now gave
himself entirely to the work of an evangelist, and henceforth generally
delivered three or four, and sometimes five or six, sermons every day
to crowded congregations. A wide-spread reformation followed. Public
diversions became unfashionable, and religion became the theme of
common conversation. A few began to help him, of whom the venerable
Rev. Griffith Jones was the most prominent. In 1737, this devoted
clergyman instituted his movable free schools; and a letter published
in the _Glasgow Weekly History_, of 1742, describes him as “one of the
most excellent preachers in Great Britain.” Not a few of the teachers
in his peripatetic schools became Methodist preachers; and certainly
their travels as instructors, as well as his own preaching tours,
prepared the way for the Methodist itinerant ministry.
Thus was Howel Harris an itinerant preacher at least a year and a half
before Whitefield and Wesley were; and, as the brave-hearted herald
of hundreds more who were to follow after him, he met the fiercest
persecutions with an undaunted soul and an unflinching face. Parsons
and country squires menaced him, and mobs swore and flung stones and
sticks at him; but he calmly pursued his way, labouring almost alone
in his own isolated sphere until he met with Whitefield in the town of
Cardiff, in 1739. Whitefield says he found him “a burning and shining
light; a barrier against profanity and immorality; and an indefatigable
promoter of the gospel of Christ. During the last three years, he had
preached almost twice every day, for three or four hours together;
and, in his evangelistic tours, had visited seven counties, and had
established nearly thirty societies; and still his sphere of action was
enlarging daily.”
Almost contemporaneous with this marvellous work across the Atlantic
and in Wales, was another across the Tweed, in Scotland. The facts
following are taken from “A Faithful Narrative, written by James Robe,
A.M., Minister of the Gospel at Kilsyth,” and printed in 1742.
For years past, there had been a sensible decay in the life and power
of godliness in Scotland; but, in 1740, Mr. Robe began to preach
upon the doctrine of regeneration. Meanwhile, a glorious revival of
the work of God occurred at Cambuslang; and, on April 25, 1741, at
Kilsyth. Sixteen children began to hold prayer-meetings in the town of
Kirkintilloch, and the godly excitement became general. On every hand
were heard cries, groans, and the voice of weeping. On the 16th of May,
above thirty persons were awakened under the ministry of Mr. Robe,
and, in a short time after, hundreds were converted in the country
round about. Drunkenness, and swearing, and other flagrant sins were
instantly abandoned; family worship was set up; meetings for prayer
were established; and the people generally flocked to the house of God.
Young converts held prayer-meetings in fields, barns, schoolhouses,
and the manses of their ministers. Cambuslang, Kilsyth, Campsie,
Kirkintilloch, Auchinloch, St. Ninians, Gargunnock, Calder, Badernock,
Irvine, Long Dreghorn, Kilmarnock, Larbert, Dundee, Bothwell, Muthill,
Edinburgh, Glasgow, and other towns, villages, and parishes were
visited with a most gracious outpouring of God’s Holy Spirit; and
scenes of mercy were witnessed quite as striking as those which were
occurring simultaneously both in England and America. Not a few of the
converts, about one sixth of the whole, suffered such distress of mind,
and were under such powerful religious influence, that they not only
cried and shrieked aloud, but trembled, fainted, and were convulsed
in their bodies most mysteriously—exhibiting the same physical
affections as the converts in New England; and this evoked considerable
opposition, and led the Associate Presbytery at Dunfermline, to
pronounce the movement a “delusion, and the work of the grand
deceiver.” Some were seized with such trembling that their friends
had to render them support. Many of the females went into hysterics.
Numbers, on finding peace, broke forth into rapturous weeping, and
had their countenances so lit up with serenity and brightness, that
their neighbours declared they had obtained not only new hearts, but
new faces. A few, but not many, professed to have visions of hell, of
heaven, of the devil, and of Jesus.
The writer gives these facts as he finds them. Mr. Robe, in his
narrative, extending over hundreds of pages, endeavours to show that
such effects were not without precedents, and quotes a great number
of similar instances which had occurred, in different places, from
the time of the Reformation downwards. It is no part of our purpose
either to explain, justify, or condemn them. We shall shortly find the
same kind of effects following the preaching of Wesley in England. At
present, the reader is merely reminded of the wondrous and glorious
fact, that the great Methodist revival of religion, begun in 1739,
stood not alone; for God, in His sovereign mercy, was working works
quite as great in Germany, America, and Scotland. The revival in
Germany gave birth to the heroic, martyr-like Moravian church. That
in America greatly prepared the way for Whitefield, and for the first
Methodist missionaries to that huge continent. That in Scotland
revived the almost expiring piety of the kirk across the border; and,
doubtless, greatly contributed to the devout and increasing energy and
zeal evinced by the different churches there from that day to this.
And that in Wales has issued in results equally remarkable. God the
Spirit is omnipresent, and can give a universal revival of truth and
godliness as easily as a local one. It is, also, a significant fact, of
vast importance, that the whole of these great revivals were begun by
preaching the same kind of truth. Christian David, the carpenter, begun
the work in Moravia by preaching the doctrine of salvation by simple
faith in Christ; and so did Jonathan Edwards in America. The revival at
Kilsyth sprang out of Mr. Robe’s sermons on regeneration; and no one
need be told that these were the doctrines which formed the staple of
Wesley’s and Whitefield’s sermons in Great Britain. This is the truth
pre-eminently needed by man, in all ages, and in all lands; and this
is the truth which, wherever preached, is always honoured, by being
made the means of man’s salvation.
At the close of the year 1738, Wesley was almost uniformly excluded
from the pulpits of the Established Church. During the whole of 1739,
the only churches in which he was allowed to preach, were Basingshaw,
Islington, St. Giles’, and St. Katherine’s churches, London; and the
churches at Dummer, Clifton, Runwick, and St. Mary’s in Exeter. The
first two months of the year were spent in the metropolis; but, with
the exception of expounding in a few private houses, Wesley had to
content himself with preaching not more than half-a-dozen sermons. In
the month of March, he set out for Oxford, and wrote the following
hitherto unpublished letter to his friend Whitefield. The letter is
long, but full of interest.
“_March 16, 1739._
“MY DEAR BROTHER,—On Thursday, the 8th instant, we breakfasted
at Mr. Score’s, Oxford, who is patiently waiting for the
salvation of God. Thence we went to Mrs. Campton’s, who has
set her face as a flint. After we had spent some time in
prayer, Mr. Washington came with Mr. Gibbs, and read several
passages out of Bishop Patrick’s Parable of the Pilgrim, to
prove that we were all under a delusion, and that we were to
be justified by faith and works. Charles Metcalfe withstood
him to the face. After they were gone, we again besought our
Lord, that He would maintain His own cause. Meanwhile, Mr.
Washington and Mr. Watson were going about to all parts, and
confirming the unfaithful; and at seven, when I designed to
expound at Mrs. Campton’s, Mr. Washington was got there before
me, and was beginning to read Bishop Bull against the witness
of the Spirit. He told me he was authorized by the minister of
the parish to do this. I advised all who valued their souls
to depart; and, perceiving it to be the less evil of the two,
that they who remained might not be perverted, I entered
directly into the controversy, touching both the cause and
fruits of justification. In the midst of the dispute, James
Mears’s wife began to be in pain. I prayed with her when Mr.
Washington was gone; and then we went down to sister Thomas’s.
In the way, Mrs. Mears’s agony so increased, that she could not
avoid crying out aloud in the street. With much difficulty, we
got her to Mrs. Shrieve’s, where God heard us, and sent her
deliverance, and where her husband also was set at liberty soon
after. Presently Mrs. Shrieve fell into a strange agony both
of body and mind; her teeth gnashed together; her knees smote
each other; and her whole body trembled exceedingly. We prayed
on; and, within an hour, the storm ceased; and she now enjoys
a sweet calm, having remission of sins, and knowing that her
Redeemer liveth.
“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, that instead of setting out for London, as I designed, on
Friday morning, I set out for Dummer, there being no person to
supply the church on Sunday. At Reading I found a young man,
Cennick by name, strong in the faith of our Lord Jesus. He
had begun a society there the week before; but the minister
of the parish had now well-nigh overturned it. Several of the
members of it spent the evening with us, and it pleased God to
strengthen and comfort them.
“On Saturday morning, our brother Cennick rode with me, whom
I found willing to suffer, yea, to die for his Lord. We came
to Dummer in the afternoon: Miss Molly was weak in body, but
strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Surely
her light ought not thus to be hid under a bushel. She has
forgiveness, but not the witness of the Spirit; perhaps because
our dear brother Kinchin seems to think them inseparable.
“On Sunday morning we had a large and attentive congregation.
In the evening, the room at Basingstoke was full, and my mouth
was opened. We expected much opposition, but had none at all.
“On Monday, Mrs. Cleminger being in pain and fear, we prayed,
and her Lord gave her peace. About noon we spent an hour or two
in conference and prayer with Miss Molly; and then set out in a
glorious storm; but I had a calm within. We had appointed the
little society at Reading to meet us in the evening; but the
enemy was too vigilant. Almost as soon as we were out of the
town, the minister sent, or went, to each of the members, and
began arguing and threatening, and utterly confounded them, so
that they were all scattered abroad. Mr. Cennick’s own sister
did not dare to see us, but was gone out on purpose to avoid it.
“On Tuesday I came to Oxford again, and from Mrs. Fox’s went
to Mrs. Campton’s. I found the minister of the parish had been
there before me, to whom she had plainly declared, that she had
never had a true faith in Christ till a week ago. After some
warm and sharp expressions, he told her he must repel her from
the holy communion. Finding she was not convinced, even by that
argument, he left her calmly rejoicing in God her Saviour.
“At six in the evening, we were at Mrs. Fox’s society; about
seven at Mrs. Campton’s: the power of the Lord was present at
both, and all our hearts were knit together in love.
“The next day we had an opportunity to confirm most, if not
all, the souls which had been shaken. In the afternoon, I
preached at the Castle. We afterwards joined together in
prayer, having now Charles Graves added to us, who is rooted
and grounded in the faith. We then went to Mr. Gibbs’s room,
where were Mr. Washington and Mr. Watson. Here an hour was
spent in conference and prayer, but without any disputing. At
four in the morning I left Oxford. God hath indeed planted and
watered: O may He give the increase.
“I am, etc.,
“JOHN WESLEY.”
Thus did the expelled minister employ his time and energies. The
churches were shut against him; but he found work in cottages.
Half-a-dozen sermons in church pulpits in three months! No wonder that
Wesley escaped to Bristol. Silence to such a man was intolerable.
Priests and their parasites had gagged him in the metropolis, and he
now started for a new sphere of labour.