James Hervey, with great appropriateness, was designated by Charles
Wesley, the “Isocrates” of the Oxford Methodists.[141] The old Greek
rhetorician was not an orator; the weakness of his voice and his
natural timidity prevented that; but the polish of his style in writing
and the harmonious construction of his sentences obtained for him a
fame which seems to be undying. And so in regard to Hervey. He lacked
Whitefield’s eloquence, and Wesley’s constructive faculty; but he had
a peculiar mental quality, which invested his productions with an air
of gracefulness beyond the power of either of his friends to imitate.
Critics, great and small, genuine and pretentious, have condemned
Hervey’s style; and yet, notwithstanding this, few books have passed
through more editions than his have done; and, after the lapse of a
hundred years since their author’s death, few are greater favourites at
the present day. Why is this? Perhaps some of his censors can answer the
question.
James Hervey, like the Wesleys and Gambold, was the son of a country
clergyman. He was born at Hardingstone, near Northampton, on the 26th
of February, 1714; his father holding the two neighbouring livings
of Weston-Favel and Collingtree. His ancestors appear to have been
highly respectable. One of them was a judge; another had been member
of Parliament for the town of Northampton; and the patronage of the
above-mentioned livings had been, for many years, in the possession of
the family.
Until the age of seven, Hervey was under the tuition of his mother. He
then became a day-scholar in the free grammar school at Northampton,
where he displayed great dexterity in the usual gymnastic exercises of
boys like himself; and where, in the course of ten years, he learned
enough of the Latin and Greek languages, to enable him to matriculate at
the Oxford University. His progress, however, would probably have been
greater than what it was, had it not been for the execrable conduct of
his master, who determined that no one in the school should learn faster
than his own stupid son. “Hervey himself told me,” says Mr. Ryland, “that
his master never made but one remark in reading the Greek Testament, and
that was a very foolish one.”
When only a boy, seventeen years of age, Hervey, full of youthful frolic,
left the quietude of his father’s house for the animated scenes, the high
advantages, and peculiar dangers of collegiate life. It was something
infinitely more sacred than an accident which led to his admission into
Lincoln College, where Wesley was a fellow and a tutor, and where,
for the last two years, the Methodists had frequently held their
meetings.[142]
The effects of the idleness enforced upon him at the Northampton free
grammar school, were felt at Oxford. It was difficult for a sprightly
and clever boy, like Hervey, to lay aside, all at once, the unstudious
habits of the last ten years, and to devote himself, with unflagging
earnestness, to the academical pursuits which now demanded his attention.
For two years, from 1731 to 1733, he was idle at Oxford, as he had been
obliged to be idle at Northampton. At the end of that time, he became
acquainted with the Methodists, and distinguished himself, as they also
did, by his devotion to the duties of religion, and to his collegiate
studies. Wesley rendered him considerable assistance, especially by
giving him instructions in the Hebrew language.
“Oxon, Sept. 2, 1736. I hereby thank you, as for all other
favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew.”
Thus wrote Hervey, at the age of twenty-two, when he had taken his degree
of Bachelor of Arts, and was leaving the university to enter upon the
duties of the Christian ministry. Eleven years afterwards, when in the
midst of the fame arising from the recent publication of his “Meditations
among the Tombs,” etc., he wrote to Wesley another letter:—
“WESTON, NEAR NORTHAMPTON, _December 30, 1747_.
“Assure yourself, dear sir, that I can never forget the
tender-hearted and generous Fellow of Lincoln, who condescended
to take such compassionate notice of a poor under-graduate,
whom almost everybody condemned; and when no man cared for my
soul.”[143]
Here we pause, to take a glance at Hervey during his five years’
residence at Oxford. John Gambold, writing of him, while he was still at
college, says:—
“He is a man of surprising greatness of soul; and, if you look
for his virtues, you will not be able to discover them one by
one, but you will see that he walks before God with a reverence
and alacrity which includes them all.”[144]
Hervey became one of the Oxford Methodists in 1733, when he was only
nineteen years of age. In the same year, he wrote as follows to his
sister:—
“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _Sept. 16, 1733_.
“DEAR SISTER,—Was there any occasion to apologize for the
serious purport of this, it would be sufficient to direct
you to the date,[145] and the time of its inditing, but I
promise myself, that, to you anything of this nature will be
unnecessary; for, though we are in the very prime and spring
of our years, strongly disposed to admire, and perfectly
capacitated to relish the gaieties of youth, yet we have been
inured to moderate the warmth of our appetites, accustomed to
anticipate in our minds the days of darkness, and incessantly
disciplined into a remembrance of our Creator. For my part,
I find no season so proper to address one of the principal
sharers of my heart, one of my nearest and dearest relations,
as that I have at present chose and made use of, when either an
universal silence composes the soul, and calms every turbulent
emotion, or the voice of joy and gladness, speaking through
celestial music, invites to adore the wonders of our Redeemer’s
love, touches upon the strings of the softest passions, and
inspires the most sweet, most tender sentiments.
“As I was the other day traversing the fields in quest of
health, I observed that they had lost that profusion of
fragrant odours which once perfumed the air, and were disrobed
of that rich variety of curious dyes which surpassed even
Solomon in all his glory. Not a single flower appears to
gladden the sight, to bespangle the ground, or enamel the
barren landscape. The clouds, that recently distilled in dews
of honey, or poured themselves forth in showers of fatness,
now combine in torrents to overflow the lifeless earth, and to
bury or sweep away all the faint footsteps of ancient beauty.
The hills, that were crowned with corn the valleys that laughed
and sung under loads of golden grain, in a word, the whole
face of nature, that so lately rejoiced for the abundance
of her plenty, is become bare, naked, and disconsolate. As
I was continuing my walk, and musing on this joyless scene,
methought, the sudden change exhibited a lively picture of
our frail and transitory state; methought, every object that
occurred seemed silently to forewarn me of my own future
condition.
“I dwelt on these considerations till they fermented in my
fancy, and worked themselves out in such-like expressions:
‘What! must we undergo so grievous an alteration? We, whose
sprightly blood circulates in brightest tides? We, who are the
favourites of time, on whom youth, and health, and strength,
shed their selectest influence? We, who are so apt to look upon
ourselves as exempt from cares, or pains, or troubles, and
privileged to drink in the sweets of life without restraint,
without alloy? Must we forego the sunshine of our enjoyments
for anything resembling this melancholy gloom? Must the
sparkling eye set in haggard dimness? the lovely features and
glowing cheeks be obscured by pale deformity? Must soft and
gay desires be banished from our breasts, or mirth and jollity
from our conversation? Must the vigour of our age fall away
like water that runneth apace, and the blissful minutes of the
prime of our years vanish like a dream? If this be our case, in
vain do we boast of our superior felicity. In vain do we glory
in being the darlings of heaven. The inanimate creation droop
indeed, sicken and languish, for a time; but quickly revive,
rejoice, and again shine forth in their brightest lustre. It is
true, they relinquish, at the approach of winter, their verdant
honours; but rest fully assured of receiving them with interest
from the succeeding spring. But man, when he has passed the
autumn of his maturity,—when he has once resigned himself into
the cold embraces of age,—bids a long, an eternal adieu to
all that is entertaining, amiable, or endearing. No pleasing
expectations refresh his mind; not the least dawnings of hope
glimmer in to qualify the darksome looking-for of Death.’
“I had not long indulged these bitter reflections before
I espied a remedy for those sore evils which occasioned
them. Though I perceived all our passionate delights to be
vanity, and the issue of them vexation of spirit; yet I
saw, likewise, that virtue was substantial, and her fruits
joy and peace;—that, though all things come to an end, the
ways of wisdom were exceeding broad. The seeds of piety,
if implanted in our tender breasts, duly cherished, and
constantly cultivated, will bud and blossom even in the winter
of our days; and, when white and red shall be no more,—when
all the outward embellishments of our little fabric shall
disappear,—this will still flourish in immortal bloom.
“To walk humbly with our God, dutifully with our parents,
and charitably with all, will be an inexhaustible source
of never-ceasing comforts. What, though we shall sometimes
be unable to hear the voice of singing men and singing
women,—though all the senses prove false to their trust, and
refuse to be any longer inlets of pleasure,—it is now, dear
sister, it is now in our power to make such happy provisions
as even then, in those forlorn circumstances, may charm our
memories with ravishing recollections, and regale all our
faculties with the continual feast of an applauding conscience.
What sweet complacency, what unspeakable satisfaction shall
we reap from the contemplation of an uninterrupted series
of spotless actions! No present uneasiness will prompt us
impatiently to wish for our dissolution, nor anxious fears
for futurity make us immoderately dread the impending stroke.
All will be calm, easy, and serene. All will be soothed by
this precious, this invaluable thought, that, by reason of the
meekness, the innocence, the purity, and other Christian graces
which adorned the several stages of our progress through the
world, our names and our ashes will be embalmed; the chambers
of our tomb consecrated into a paradise of rest; and our souls,
white as our locks, by an easy transition, become angels of
light.
“I am, with love to my brother, dear sister, your most
affectionate brother,
“JAMES HERVEY.”
This letter has been inserted without abridgment, 1. Because, it
evinces, that, even while in his teens, Hervey cultivated that flowingly
harmonious style, which was one of the chief characteristics of all his
publications. And, 2. Because, it is thoroughly unevangelical, and, in
spirit, such as might be naturally expected from an Oxford Methodist
seeking salvation by his own good works. 3. It was written at the time
when Hervey first united himself with Wesley and his Pharisaic friends.
There are several other letters, written during the years of Hervey’s
collegiate life; but, for want of space, they can be only sparingly
employed:—
(To his sister.)
“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _March 28, 1734_.
“DEAR SISTER,—My fancy has often took its flight to
Hardingstone, and delighted itself with the imaginary
conversation of you and my other dear relatives. I have
frequently recollected, and, as it were, acted over again in my
mind the many pleasing hours we have spent together in reading
holy and edifying books, or discoursing on pious and useful
subjects.
“There is great reason for congratulation, on account of
your being so choice a favourite of heaven, as your frequent
sicknesses, and often infirmities speak you to be. How does the
goodness of our gracious Father endeavour, by the repeated,
though lightest, strokes of His rod, to cure whatever is
disordered, to rectify whatever is amiss in you! Do not then
hold out against these kind calls to repentance; but suffer
yourself, by this loving correction, to be made great;—great
in humility, holiness, and happiness. Humble yourself under
the mighty hand of God; and, by a hearty sorrow for your past
faults, and a firm resolution of obedience for the future, let
this fatherly chastisement bring forth in you the peaceable
fruits of righteousness.”
All good, so far as it goes, especially from a youth of twenty; but not a
word of Christ, or of being saved by His mediatorial merits, and by the
exercise of faith in Him.
His sister wished him to turn poet; but, instead of writing poetry
himself, he sent her “The Last Day,” by Dr. Young; and wrote as follows:—
“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _May 2, 1734_.
“DEAR SISTER,—I scarcely know any human composition more
likely to improve and edify, at the same time that it diverts
and delights, than this poem of “The Last Day.” If you would
please yourself, refine your taste, or have the practice of
religion pleasing, instead of plays, ballads, and other corrupt
writings, read this almost Divine piece of poetry;—read it
(as I have done), over and over; think upon it; endeavour to
digest it thoroughly; and even to get by heart the most moving
passages: and then, I trust, you will find it answer the ends I
purpose in sending it.
“You will excuse me from exercising my poetical talent;
because, I perceive, such an attempt will be either very
absurd, or very dangerous. For, should I tack together a few
doggerel rhymes, this would be an affront to you; whereas,
should I succeed so well as to gain the applause of my reader,
this, I am sure, would portend very great harm, if not to you,
yet, most certainly, to me. For what can portend greater harm
than the words of praise, which, though smoother than oil, yet,
are very swords? What can be more destructive of that humble
mind which was in Christ Jesus,—that meek and lowly spirit
which is in the sight of God of great price? I am so far from
carrying on my versifying designs, that, I heartily wish I
had never conceived any; and that those lines I sent to my
cousin had either never been made, or that I had never heard
them commended. Pride and vanity are foolish and unreasonable
in dust and ashes; and, which is worse, odious and detestable
before infinite perfection and infinite power.”
The next are extracts from a long letter, of six octavo pages, entirely
on the Christian eucharist, and addressed to Whitefield:—
“OXON, _July 29, 1735_.
“DEAR SIR,—Is the sacrament indeed administered at one or other
of your churches every Sunday? Sure then the lot is fallen to
you in a fair ground; sure you have a goodly heritage. The holy
eucharist is a communion of the body and blood of Christ;—a
participation of all the benefits procured for us by His most
meritorious passion. In this most comfortable sacrament, pardon
is freely offered to all. Has any one been an enemy to God by
wicked works? By this body shall he be reconciled. By this
blood shall his peace be made.
“Let me put this one question, and I have done. In the last
great day, on what will you rely for salvation? Will you seek
to your good thoughts and pious discourses? Alas! they are full
of imperfection, and cannot bear the severe trial. All your own
righteousnesses are as filthy rags, and will be utterly unable
to gain your acceptance. To what then will you have recourse?
To whom will you fly in this great extremity? Surely, to the
sufferings of Jesus Christ. There is nothing else under heaven
whereby you can be saved, but His meritorious passion. Unless
His body plead in your behalf, you are covered with shame, and
everlasting confusion. Unless His blood make your peace, you
are cast, you perish, you are eternally undone. Think, oh, do
but think deeply on this, and then you will gladly embrace
every occasion of partaking of the holy communion.
“By exhibiting such benefits, by urging such motives, may we
prevail on all our neighbours to secure to themselves a resting
place for their souls, an anchor of their hopes, sure and
stedfast.
“Yours in the Lord,
“JAMES HERVEY.”[146]
This was a letter widely different from those which Hervey had written to
his sister. In them, he wrote as a man trusting for salvation solely in
his own good works. In this, he propounds the doctrine, that, salvation
is entirely owing to the sacrifice of Christ; and, that its blessings are
obtained (not by the exercise of faith, but,) in the participation of
the Christian sacrament. It need not be added, that, this was one of the
chief doctrines of the Oxford Methodists.
The two Wesleys and Ingham left Oxford in 1735, and the time was now
approaching for Hervey’s departure. Hence, the following letter to his
father:—
“_April 8, 1736._
“HONOURED SIR,—You reprove me for my dilatory way of
proceeding,—very justly I own. I hope, I shall, from this time,
amend. I was examined yesterday. I must do my juraments five
times on Friday, and be admitted to my degree on Monday. Mr. H⸺
tells me, I must wear a bachelor’s gown.
“Mr. Farrer, a little while ago, asked me to resign my room to
a pupil of his, who is to come the middle of this month. To
which proposal, I have agreed, because I can live much cheaper
out of college. I shall, by this means, save the expense of
calling up, of bed-making, etc., as well as have a room at a
cheaper rate, and pay for it only when I am resident: on which
account, I assure myself, this step, I have taken, will be
approved of by you and my mother.
“I am sorry to hear of your being obliged to go on with
farming. I could wish you would let it, though at some
disadvantage, and though we should suffer thereby something in
our fortunes.
“As to the curacy near Bath, I can give you no determinate
answer. My friend, I believe, is a very sincere one, and will
do me what service he can. There is one person who has had the
offer of it before me: whether he will accept of it is not
known. As soon as _I_ know, _you_ shall know.
“I hope you will send me a letter next week, to wish me joy on
being a graduate.
“JAMES HERVEY.”
Though not ordained, when Hervey left Oxford, in June, 1736, and returned
to his father’s house at Hardingstone, he, at once, commenced holding
meetings among his neighbours. The following letter, addressed to Mr.
Chapman, one of the Oxford Methodists, refers to this, and contains
Hervey’s views on what ought to be Chapman’s behaviour among the polite
inhabitants of Bath, whither he was going:—
“HARDINGSTONE, _June 12, 1736_.
“I humbly thank you for sending me the Journal,” (probably
Wesley’s, who was now in Georgia.) “Blessed be God, for His
unspeakable love to the poor Indians, and for His watchful
care of our dear friends! With what zeal and ardour do those
glorious combatants run the race that is set before them. May
we, dear Mr. Chapman, may we go and do likewise! go and improve
our little stock of knowledge and holiness, by imparting them
to as many as want and are willing to receive!
“I hope my evening assemblies are, and will be, prospered.
I heartily thank you for advising me to resume those means
of instructing my neighbours. I have had some comforting
assurances that the sanctifying Spirit has been among us, and
blessed my discourses to the edifying of the hearers. I have
some from two parishes besides this, that attend upon my little
catechetical lectures, and am likely to have a young gentleman
from the academy at Northampton.
“If you are going to Bath, how must you behave yourself in
such a situation? I wish I could advise you aright; but, I
fear, I am one of those whom the apostle styles μυωπα ζοντες.
Nevertheless, my opinion, such as it is, I will freely give you.
“I think then, sir, great regard is to be had to the genius
and temper of the city. Since that is light and gay, I would
accommodate myself to it as much as possible, so it be
consistently with innocence. I would, at all times, endeavour
to be perfectly cheerful and obliging and complaisant, to the
utmost of my power. I would be earnest with God to make my
countenance shine with a smiling serenity; that there might
sit something on my cheeks, which would declare the peace and
joy of my heart. The world has strange apprehensions of the
Methodists. They imagine them to be so many walking mopes,
more like the ghost in a play, than sociable creatures. To
obviate this sad prejudice, be always sprightly and agreeable.
If a pretty turn of wit, or a diverting story offer itself to
your mind, do not scruple to entertain the company therewith.
Everything that borders upon sourness, moroseness, or
ill-breeding, I would cautiously avoid. And everything that may
give a beautiful or amiable idea of holiness, I would study
to show forth. I see no manner of harm in bowing at church,
provided it be not in divine service, so as to interrupt our
devotions. I think Mr. Wilson disapproved of this; but I cannot
bring myself to believe, that, a modest and decent respect to
our neighbours is disparaging to God, but rather acceptable to
Him. I do not mean, by what I have said, that you should make
all sorts of compliances. A solicitation to join with your
acquaintance in billiards, dice, cards, dancing, etc., should
be rejected.
“If Mr. Morgan is at Bath, pray present my thanks and love
to him. God Almighty make him and you bold as lions, wise as
serpents, and harmless as doves! If I had not heard you were at
Oxon, this had been sent by the post to Bath.
“JAMES HERVEY.”
Hervey was a churchman; but he was not a bigot. At this period of
his history, one of the students in Doctor Doddridge’s Academy, at
Northampton, was the celebrated Rev. Risdon Darracott, then a youth,
nineteen years of age. Hervey and young Darracott had had an interview
in the house of a member of Dr. Doddridge’s church. Darracott was
endeavouring to form a religious society among Doddridge’s students,
somewhat similar to the society of Methodists at Oxford; and the
interview, just mentioned, led him to write to Hervey for advice. The
latter had recently left Oxford, and the following is an extract from his
answer:—
“HARDINGSTONE, _June 3, 1736_.
“DEAR SIR,—I think your proposal, as far as I can see into
it, is very proper; and if discreetly managed, and steadily
persisted in, cannot fail to be advantageous to yourself and
others. This seems to be evident for several reasons; four of
which at present occur to my mind.
“1. Because we are ignorant and short-sighted, and oftentimes
unable to discern the things that are excellent. But God is
pleased to reveal to one what is concealed from another; so
that, in a multitude of counsellors, there is wisdom.
“2. Because we are lovers and admirers of ourselves, unwilling
to see our own errors, and, therefore, unlikely to amend them.
Whereas, our friends will, with a meek and impartial spirit,
show us our faults.
“3. Because we are weak and irresolute; easily shaken from the
most laudable purposes, and apt to let go our integrity upon
any opposition. But a band of friends, who are like minded,
inspires us with courage and constancy.
“4. Because we are slothful and lukewarm in religious duties.
But a holy fellowship will kindle and keep alive a holy
fervour. How often have I gone into the company of my dear
friends, listless and spiritless; yet, when I came home, I
have found myself quite another person; vigorous and active,
sanguine and zealously affected in good matters.”[147]
Hervey, as an Oxford Methodist, was doubtless speaking from experience;
and his reasons for religious fellowship are well worth weighing.
A few weeks after the date of the above, Hervey proceeded to Oxford to
be ordained; and, whilst there, wrote again, to this young Dissenter, as
follows:—
“LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXON, _Sept. 1, 1736_.
“DEAR MR. DARRACOTT,—I wish you would suggest to me what I must
do to further the Gospel of God my Saviour. I employ, every
day, an hour or more with some well-inclined people of the
poorer sort. We read Mr. Henry on the Holy Scriptures, and pray
together. There is one set in one part of the city, and another
in another. I meet them at a neighbour’s house. Oh! that I
could also open my mouth as he did; so boldly, so powerfully!
“I am preparing to enter into holy orders, and to take upon me
the work of the ministry. That great, wonderful, and important
work! Help me with your prayers to the Lord God my Saviour,
that I ‘may receive the Holy Ghost not many days hence,’
by the laying on of hands; even ‘the spirit of wisdom and
understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of
knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.’
“Dear sir, pray give my humble service, and best thanks to Dr.
Doddridge, and beg of him, when he is in the acceptable time,
to remember me, who am in the time of need. If he has any word
of exhortation; but, especially, if he has any treasures of
instruction, proper for a candidate of the ministerial office,
how glad should I be if he would please to impart them, and how
gratefully should such a favour be always acknowledged by his
and your affectionate servant and brother in Jesus Christ,
“J. HERVEY.”[148]
Another letter, written previous to his ordination, shall be given, at
full length. Wesley was now in Georgia; and Hervey addressed to him the
following:—
“OXON, _Sept. 2, 1736_.
“REV. AND DEAR SIR,—I have read your Journal, and find that
the Lord hath done great things for you already, whereof we
rejoice. Surely, He will continue His loving-kindness to you,
and show you greater things than these. Methinks, when you and
dear Mr. Ingham go forth upon the great and good enterprise of
converting the Indians, you will, in some respects, resemble
Noah and his little household going forth of the ark. Wherever
you go, you must walk among dry bones or carcasses, among
a people that are aliens from the life of God, buried in
ignorance, dead in trespasses and sins. Oh, may the blessing of
that illustrious progenitor of ours, and of that favourite with
the Most High, be upon your heads! May you be ‘fruitful and
multiply,’ may you bring forth abundantly in that barren land
and multiply therein!
“As for me, I am still a most weak, corrupt creature. But
blessed be the unmerited mercy of God, and thanks be to your
never to be forgotten example, that I am what I am. As to my
strength, and activity with regard to others, I fear it may
be too truly said, ‘It is to sit still.’ I am at present one
of the multitude; but I expect, before this reaches you, to
receive the office of a Deacon, and become a minister of the
New Testament. Oh, may I also ‘receive the Holy Ghost not many
days hence;’ and be made a faithful minister of those saving
mysteries, from that time forth and for ever! I hope, I shall
then hear a voice behind me, saying, ‘Awake thou that sleepest,
from thy slumber, and Christ shall give thee light.’ Christ
shall be thy sanctification, Christ shall be thy illumination.
He shall stand by thee, and strengthen thee. He shall give thee
both to will and to do. Through the power of His grace, thou
shalt run and not faint; thou shalt be fervent in the business
and propagation of righteousness, nor ever give over, till thou
givest up thy soul to God, its Maker, and thy body return unto
the dust, as it was.
“That I may be obedient to such a heavenly call, is, I hope,
‘all my wish and all my desire.’ This is, indeed, the treasure
I value, the thing that I long for. Do you, dear sir, put up
your incessant prayers; and, oh, let the mighty God set to His
seal, that the thing may be established, that it may be unto me
according to my heart’s desire! Then, will I invite you (my
_father_, shall I call you, or my _friend_? For, indeed, you
have been both unto me), to meet me among the spirits of just
men made perfect; since I am not like to see your face in the
flesh any more for ever! Then, will I bid you welcome, yea, I
will tell of your love, before the universal assembly, and at
the tremendous tribunal. I will hear with joy the Man Christ
Jesus say of you, ‘Oh, ye that are greatly beloved. Well done,
good and faithful servants; ye have served your Lord and your
generation with your might; ye have finished the work, which
the eternal foreknowledge of my Father gave you to do. If
others have turned their thousands, ye have turned your tens of
thousands from the power of Satan unto God. Receive, therefore,
a glorious kingdom,—a beautiful and immortal crown from my
hand. Enter, with the children I have given you,—with the souls
that you have won. Oh ye blessed ones, ye heirs of glory, enter
in at those everlasting doors, and receive there the reward of
your labours, even the fulness of joy for ever and ever.’
“I am, and may I always be, dear sir, your son in the Lord
Jesus Christ,
“J. HERVEY.
“P. S. I heartily thank you, as for all other favours, so
especially for teaching me Hebrew.[149] I have cultivated
(according to your advice) this study, and am, blessed be God,
the giver of knowledge! somewhat improved in this language. My
prayers accompany you, and all that are engaged with you in the
same glorious design. Let me also have yours and theirs for
Jerusalem’s, for Christ’s sake.”[150]
Seventeen days, after the date of the above letter, Hervey was ordained a
deacon at Christ Church, by Dr. Potter, Bishop of Oxford.[151]
One of the Oxford Methodists was Charles Kinchin, Fellow of Corpus
Christi College.[152] On leaving Oxford, he was presented with the
rectory of Dummer, near Basingstoke; and now, in 1736, Hervey became
his curate. This is not the place to describe his curacy; but further
extracts from his letters, during the time he held it, will serve to
illustrate his character.
His brother, being desirous to be apprenticed in London, received from
him the following:—
“DUMMER, _June 27, 1737_.
“DEAR BROTHER,—I find you are at London looking out for a
trade, and a master to set yourself to. I hope, you pray
earnestly to God to guide you in your choice. Desire also your
honoured mother, and mine, to have a great regard to your soul.
Let it be inquired, not only whether such a tradesman be a
man of substance and credit, but also, whether he be a man of
religion and godliness? Whether he be a lover of good people, a
careful frequenter of the Church? Whether his children be well
nurtured and educated in the fear of the Lord? Whether family
prayer be daily offered up in his house? Whether he believes
that the souls of his servants are committed to his trust,
and that he will be answerable for the neglect of them at the
judgment-seat? It will be sadly hazardous to venture yourself
under the roof of any person, who is not furnished with these
principles, or is a stranger to these practices. But, if he be
contrary to all these, a despiser of God and goodness, wholly
devoted to carnal pleasure and worldly gain; if he not only
omit the religious care and oversight of his household, but
also set them a wicked and corrupt example, let nothing induce
you to enter into his service.”
At the time when this letter was addressed to his brother, he received a
sort of petition, signed by the inhabitants of Collingtree, one of his
father’s parishes, praying him to become their minister. In his long
reply, dated June 29, 1737, he did not absolutely refuse to accede to
their request; but sketched what a minister of Christ ought to be, and
exhorted them to ask the great Head of the Church, to supply them with
such an one. The letter is too long for insertion here; but, it shows,
that, this young man of twenty-three had correct and exalted notions of
ministerial duty. The standard of excellence was high, and but seldom
reached; but it was not higher than it ought to be.
Meanwhile, the services of Hervey were not confined to Dummer. Even the
_Oxford_ Methodists, to some extent, were itinerant ministers, and, by
interchange, occupied each other’s pulpits. Hence the following:—
“DUMMER, _October 26, 1737_.
“DEAR MR. ⸺,—I received your last at Oxford. After that, I
removed to Stanton-Harcourt; and now am replaced at Dummer.
These frequent removals and changes of situation, I hope, will
be some small excuse for my dilatoriness in writing; for, you
know, they occasion trouble and take up time.
“Mr. Broughton, Mr. Gambold, and Mr. Kinchin, have been
exercising their ministry here. O may I not pull down, by my
indiscretion or inactivity, what they have begun to build!
“As to the making of sermons, I am deterred from writing
them, not because I look upon it as a useless employment;
but because I feel, and cannot help confessing, my absolute
inequality to a task so important. I entreat your intense and
persevering prayers on my behalf, that the great and good God,
the dispenser of all wisdom, would vouchsafe to be a light
to my darkness, and strength to my weakness. Should these
supplications be graciously answered, my heart will then teem
both with abundance of matter, and propriety of expression; my
pen too will be that of a ready writer.
“I am, dear sir, your obliged and affectionate, but unworthy
friend,
“J. HERVEY.”[153]
In the early part of the year 1738, Hervey suffered from enfeebled
health; and accepted the invitation of Paul Orchard, Esq., who resided at
Stoke Abbey,[154] a beautifully situated old mansion in Devonshire.