1735

 

To his Mother

 

OXON, January 13, 1735

DEAR MOTHER, -- Give my leave to say once more that our folks do, and will I supose to the end of the chapter, mistake the question.

Supposing him changed Say they. Right: but that supposition has not proof yet – whether it may have: when it has, then we may come to our other point, whether all this be not providence, i.e. blessing. And whether we are empowered so to judge, condemn, and execute an imprudent Christian, as God forbid I should ever use a Turk or Deist.

I have had a great deal of a conversation lately on the subject of Christian liberty, and should be glad of your thoughts as to the several notions of it which good men entertain. I perceive different persons take it in at least six different senses: (1) For liberty from willful sin, in opposition to the bondage of natural corruption. (2) For liberty as to rites and points of discipline. So Mr. Whiston says, though the stations were constituted by the Apostles, yet the liberty of the Christian law dispenses with them on extraordinary occasions. [William Whiston (1667-1752) succeeded Newton as Lucasian Professor in 1703. The reference is to his book, The Primitive Eucharist Revived; or, an account of the doctrine and practice of the two first centuries. The ' stations' were the fasts: see letter of June 13, 1753, n.] (3) For liberty from denying ourselves in little things; for trifles, 'tis commonly thought, we may indulge in safety, because Christ hath made us free. This notion, I a little doubt, is not sound. (4) For liberty from fear, or a filial freedom in our intercourse with God. A Christian, says Dr. Knight, [ James Knight, Vicar of St. Sepulchre's, London. See letter of May 8, 1739.] is free from fear on account of his past sins; for he believes in Christ, and hope frees him from fear of losing his present labor or of being a castaway hereafter. (5) Christian liberty is taken by some for a freedom from restraint as to sleep or food. So they would say, your drinking but one glass of wine, or my rising at a fixed hour, was contrary to Christian liberty. Lastly, it is taken for freedom from rules. If by this be meant making our rules yield to extraordinary occasions, well: if the having no prudential rules, this liberty is as yet too high for me; I cannot attain unto it.

We join in begging yours and my father's blessing, and wishing you an Happy Year. -- I am, dear mother,

Your dutiful and affectionate Son.

To Mrs. Wesley, At Epworth. To be left at the Post-house in Gainsborough. By London.

To his Brother Samuel [1]

OXON, January 15, 1735.

DEAR BROTHER,--Had not my brother Charles desired it might be otherwise, I should have sent you only an extract of the following letter.[ To his father on Dec. 10, 1734.] But if you will be at the pains, you will soon reduce the argument of it to two or three points, which, if to be answered at all, will be easily answered. By it you may observe my present purpose is founded on my present weakness. But it is not, indeed, probable that my father should live till that weakness is removed.

Your second argument I had no occasion to mention before. To it I answer, that I do not, nor ever did, resolve against undertaking a cure of souls. There are four cures belonging to our College, and consistent with a Fellowship: I do not know but I may take one of them at Michaelmas. Not that I am clearly assured that I should be false to my engagement were I only to instruct and exhort the pupils committed to my charge. But of that I should think more.

I desire your full thoughts upon the whole, as well as your prayers, for, dear brother,

Your obliged and affectionate Brother.

To his Brother Samuel [2]

OXON, February 13, 1735.

DEAR BROTHER, --Neither you nor I have any time to spare; so I must be as short as I can.

There are two questions between us; one relating to being good, the other to doing good. With regard to the former:

1. You allow I enjoy more of friends, retirement, freedom from care, and divine ordinances than I could do elsewhere: and I add (1) I feel all this to be but just enough; (2) I have always found less than this to be too little for me; and therefore (3) whatever others do, I could not throw up any part of it without manifest hazard to my salvation.

As to the latter:

2. I am not careful to answer 'what good I have done at Oxford,' because I cannot think of it without the utmost danger. ' I am careful about what I may do at Epworth,' (1) because I can think of it without any danger at all; (2) because I cannot, as matters now stand, avoid thinking of it without sin.

3. Another can supply my place at Epworth better than at Oxford, and the good done here is of a far more diffusive nature. It is a more extensive benefit to sweeten the fountain than to do the same to particular streams.

4. To the objection, You are despised at Oxford, therefore you can do no good there, I answer: (1) A Christian will be despised anywhere. (2) No one is a Christian till he is despised. (3) His being .despised will not hinder his doing good, but much further it by making him a better Christian. Without contradicting any of these propositions, I allow that every one to whom you do good directly must esteem you, first or last. -- N.B. A man may despise you for one thing, hate you for a second, and envy you for a third.

5. God may suffer Epworth to be worse than before. But I may not attempt to prevent it, with so great hazard to my own soul.

Your last argument is either ignoratio elenchi, or implies these two propositions: (1) 'You resolve against any parochial cure of souls.' (2) 'The priest who does not undertake the first parochial cure that offers is perjured.' Let us add a third: ' The tutor who, being in Orders, never accepts of a parish is perjured.' [That was Samuel Wcsley's own case.] And then I deny all three. --I am, dear brother,

Your obliged and affectionate Brother.

To his Brother Samuel

Oxon, March 4, 1735.

DEAR BROTHER, -- I had rather dispute, if I must dispute, with you than with any man living, because it may be done with so little expense of time and words.

The question is now brought to one point, and the whole of the argument will be in a single syllogism:

Neither hope of doing greater good nor fear of any evil ought to deter you from what you have engaged yourself to.

But you have engaged yourself to undertake the cure of a parish:

Therefore neither that hope nor that fear ought to deter you from it.

The only doubt is whether I have engaged myself or not. You think I did at my ordination, ' before God and His high-priest.' I think I did not.

However, I own I am not the proper judge of the oath I then took. It being certain and allowed by all-- 'Verbis in quibus quis jurejurando adigitur, sensum genuinum, ut et obligationem sacramenti et modum et mensuram praestari a mente non praestantis, sed exigentis juramentum.' [The words are probably a quotation from an English Canonist, and have been thus translated: 'To words in which any one is caused to take an oath, the true meaning, and also the manner and extent of the obligation of the oath, is supplied from the mind, not of the taker of the oath, but of him who demands it.' See Journal, i. 29.]

Therefore it is not I, but the high-priest of God before whom I contracted that engagement, who is to judge of the nature and extent of it. Accordingly the post after I received yours I referred it entirely to him,[ Dr. Potter, trs. to Canterbury1737.] proposing this single question to him, Whether I had at my ordination engaged myself to undertake the cure of any parish or no His answer runs in these words:

REVD. SIR, -- It doth not seem to me that at your ordination you engaged yourself to undertake the cure of any parish, provided you can as a clergyman better serve God and His Church in your present or some other station.

Now, that I can as a clergyman better serve God and His Church in my present station I have all reasonable evidence. [See letters of Feb. 15, 1733, and Dec. 10, 1734.]

 

 

To John Robson [3]

September 30, 1735.

DEAR SIR, -- The dining in the hall on Friday seems to me utterly unjustifiable. It is giving offense in the worst sense, giving men occasion to think that innocent which is grossly sinful. The plausible pretenses for throwing off the very form of godliness that must be esteemed if we will do good; that we must keep those things private wherein we differ from the world, and so on, you will find fully examined in Nicodemus. [Wesley read Nicodemus; or, A Treatise on the Fear of Man, by August H. Francke, on his voyage to Georgia. He abridged it for Methodist readers in 1739. See Diary in Journal, i. 121, 300-1; Green's Wesley Bibliography, No. 12.] The Bishops can no more dispense with the law (the reason of which still subsists) than you or I can. Fasting is not a means of chastity only, but of deadness to pleasure, and heavenly-mindedness, and consequently necessary (in such measure as agrees with health) to all persons in all times of life. Had I been less strict, as 'tis called, I should have not only not done more good than I have (that is, God by me), but I never should have done any at all, nor indeed desired to do any. Till a man gives offense he will do no good; and the more offense he gives by adhering to the gospel of Christ the more good he will do, and the more good he does the more offense he will give. As to lukewarm company, I can only advise you (1) to keep out of it -- as much as you can; (2) when you cannot, to pray before, after, and during your stay in it fervently and without ceasing: but this you can't do---I know it; but God can make you able to do it, and in Him you must put your trust.

I am not satisfied (as I have told the Rector for this twelvemonth past) that the Wednesday fast [See letter of June 13, 1733.] is strictly obligatory; though I believe it very ancient, if not apostolical. He never saw what I writ upon it.

Dr. Tilly's sermons [William Tilly's Sixteen Sermons preached before the University of Oxford at St. Mary's (Phil. ii. 12-13). 'The grace of God shown to be not only consistent with the liberty of man's will, but the strongest obligation to our own endeavors' (2 Sermons. 1712).] on Free Will are the best I ever saw. His text is, 'Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.' May you all assist one another so to do, and be not ashamed of the gospel of Christ. aaae te , &c. Bear ye one another's burdens. I charge Mr. Robson in the name of the Lord Jesus that he no longer halt between two opinions. If the Lord be God, serve Him, love Him with all your heart, serve Him with all your strength; and pray for us that faith and utterance may be given us, that we may speak boldly as we ought to speak.

 

 

THE GEORGIA LETTERS

OCTOBER 10, 1735, TO NOVEMBER 26, 1737

 

 

To Dr. Burton [4]

October 10, 1735.

DEAR SIR, -- I have been hitherto unwilling to mention the grounds of my design of embarking for Georgia, for two reasons,---one, because they were such as I know few men would judge to be of any weight: the other, because I was afraid of making favorable judges think of me above what they ought to think; and what a snare this must be to my own soul I know by dear-bought experience.

But, on farther reflection, I am convinced that I ought to speak the truth with all boldness, even though it should appear foolishness to the world, as it has done from the beginning; and that, whatever danger there is in doing the will of God, He will support me under it. In His name, therefore, and trusting in His defense, I shall plainly declare the thing as it is.

My chief motive, to which all the rest are subordinate, is the hope of saving my own soul. I hope to learn the true sense of the gospel of Christ by preaching it to the heathen. They have no comments to construe away the text; no vain philosophy to corrupt it; no luxurious, sensual, covetous, ambitious expounders to soften its unpleasing truths, to reconcile earthly-mindedness and faith, the Spirit of Christ and the spirit of the world. They have no party, no interest to serve, and are therefore fit to receive the gospel in its simplicity. They are as little children, humble, willing to learn, and eager to do the will of God; and consequently they shall know of every doctrine I preach whether it be of God. By these, therefore, I hope to learn the purity of that faith which was once delivered to the saints; the genuine sense and full extent of those laws which none can understand who mind earthly things.

A right faith will, I trust, by the mercy of God, open the way for a right practice; especially when most of those temptations are removed which here so easily beset me. Toward mortifying the desire of the flesh, the desire of sensual pleasures, it will be no small thing to be able, without fear of giving offense, to live on water and the fruits of the earth. This simplicity of food will, I trust, be a blessed means, both of preventing my seeking that happiness in meats and drinks which God designed should be found only in faith and love and joy in the Holy Ghost; and will assist me---especially where I see no woman but those which are almost of a different species from me--to attain such a purity of thought as suits a candidate for that state wherein they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven.

Neither is it a small thing to be delivered from so many occasions, as now surround me, of indulging the desire of the eye. They here compass me in on every side; but an Indian hut affords no food for curiosity, no gratification of the desire of grand or new or pretty things: though, indeed, the cedars which God hath planted round it may so gratify the eye as to better the heart, by lifting it to Him whose name alone is excellent and His praise above heaven and earth.

If by the pride of life we understand the pomp and show of the world, that has no place in the wilds of America. If it mean pride in general, this, alas ! has a place everywhere: yet there are very uncommon helps against it, not only by the deep humility of the poor heathens, fully sensible of their want of an instructor, but that happy contempt which cannot fail to attend all who sincerely endeavor to instruct them, and which, continually increasing, will surely make them in the end as the filth and offscouring of the world. Add to this, that nothing so convinces us of our own impotence as a zealous attempt to convert our neighbor; nor, indeed, till he does all he can for God, will any man feel that he can himself do nothing.

Farther: a sin which easily besets me is unfaithfulness to God in the use of speech. I know that this is a talent entrusted to me by my Lord, to be used, as all others, only for His glory. I know that all conversation which is not seasoned with salt, and designed at least to administer grace to the hearers, is expressly forbid by the Apostle, as corrupt communication, and as grieving the Holy Spirit of God; yet I am almost continually betrayed into it by the example of others striking in with my own bad heart. But I hope, from the moment I leave the English shore, under the acknowledged character of a teacher sent from God, there shall no word be heard from my lips but what properly flows from that character: as my tongue is a devoted thing, I hope from the first hour of this new era to use it only as such, that all who hear me may know of a truth the words I speak are not mine but His that sent me.

The same faithfulness I hope to show through His grace in dispensing the rest of my Master's goods, if it please Him to send me to those who, like His first followers, have all things common. What a guard is here against that root of evil, the love of money, and all the vile attractions that spring from it ! One in this glorious state, and perhaps none but he, may see the height and depth of that privilege of the first Christians, 'as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing all things.'

I then hope to know what it is to love my neighbor as myself, and to feel the powers of that second motive to visit the heathens, even the desire to impart to them what I have received--a saving knowledge of the gospel of Christ. But this I dare not think on yet. It is not for me, who have been a grievous sinner from my youth up, and am yet laden with foolish and hurtful desires, to expect God should work so great things by my hands; but I am assured, if I be once fully converted myself, He will then employ me both to strengthen my brethren and to preach His name to the Gentiles, that the very ends of the earth may see the salvation of our God.

But you will perhaps ask: 'Cannot you save your own soul in England as well as in Georgia ' I answer,--No; neither can I hope to attain the same degree of holiness here which I may there; neither, if I stay here, knowing this, can I reasonably hope to attain any degree of holiness at all: for whoever, when two ways of life are proposed, prefers that which he is convinced in his own mind is less pleasing to God and less conducive to the perfection of his soul, has no reason from the gospel of Christ to hope that he shall ever please God at all or receive from Him that grace whereby alone he can attain any degree of Christian perfection.

To the other motive--the hope of doing more good in America--it is commonly objected that 'there are heathens enough in practice, if not theory, at home; why, then, should you go to those in America ' Why For a very plain reason: because these heathens at home have Moses and the Prophets, and those have not; because these who have the gospel trample upon it, and those who have it not earnestly call for it; ' therefore, seeing these judge themselves unworthy of eternal life, lo, I turn to the Gentiles.'

If you object, farther, the losses I must sustain in leaving my native country, I ask,--Loss of what of anything I desire to keep No; I shall still have food to eat and raiment to put on--enough of such food as I choose to eat and such raiment as I desire to put on; and if any man have a desire of other things, or of more food than he can eat, or more raiment than he need put on, let him know that the greatest blessing which can possibly befall him is to be cut off from all occasions of gratifying those desires, which, unless speedily rooted out, will drown his soul in everlasting perdition.

'But what shall we say to the loss of parents, brethren, sisters--nay, of the friends which are as my own soul, of those who have so often lifted up my hands that hung down and strengthened my feeble knees, by whom God hath often enlightened my understanding and warmed and enlarged my heart ' What shall we say Why, that if you add the loss of life to the rest, so much the greater is the gain; for though ' the grass withereth and the flower fadeth, the word of our God shall stand for ever.' Say that, when human instruments are removed, He, the Lord, will answer us by His own self; and the general answer which He hath already given us to all questions of this nature is: ' Verily I say unto you, There is no man that hath left father, or mother, or lands, for My sake, but shall receive an hundredfold now in this time with persecutions, and in the world to come eternal life.'

To his Brother Samuel

GRAVESEND, ON BOARD THE ‘SlMMONDS,’

October 15, 1735.

DEAR BROTHER, -- I presented Job to the Queen on Sunday, and had many good words and smiles. [A folio volume in Latin, entitled Dissertationes in Librum Jobi, by his father, and dedicated by permission to Queen Caroline. John Wesley presented a copy to her Majesty on Oct. 12, 1735. Dr. Clarke (Wesley Family, i. 330) says that Wesley told him that when he was introduced the Queen was romping with her maids of honor. She stopped her play, heard him graciously, and when he presented the book on bended knee she looked at the outside, said ' It is very prettily bound,' and laid it down in a window without opening a leaf. He rose, bowed, and retired. The Queen bowed, smiled, spoke several kind words, and immediately resumed her sport.] Out of what is due to me on that account, I beg you would first pay yourself what I owe you; and if I live till spring, I can then direct what I would have done with the remainder.

The uncertainty of my having another opportunity to tell you my thoughts in this life obliges me to tell you what I have often thought of, and that in as few and plain words as I can. Elegance of style is not to be weighed against purity of heart; purity both from the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life. Therefore whatever has any tendency to impair that purity is not to be tolerated, much less recommended, for the sake of that elegance. But of this sort (I speak not from the reason of the thing only, nor from my single experience) are the most of the classics usually read in great schools; many of them tending to inflame the lusts of the flesh (besides Ovid, Virgil's Aeneid, and Terence's Eunuch), and more to feed the lust of the eye and the pride of life. I beseech you, therefore, by the mercies of God, who would have us holy, as He is holy, that you banish all such poison from your school; that you introduce in their place such Christian authors as will work together with you in building up your flock in the knowledge and love of God. For assure yourself, dear brother, you are even now called to the converting of heathens as well as I.

So many souls are committed to your charge by God, to be prepared for a happy eternity. You are to instruct them, not only in the beggarly elements of Greek and Latin, but much more in the gospel. You are to labor with all your might to convince them that Christianity is not a negation or an external thing, but a new heart, a mind conformed to that of Christ, ' faith working by love.'

 

 

We recommend you and yours to God. Pray for us. -- I am

Your affectionate Brother and servant in Christ.

Editor’s Introductory Notes

[1] Samuel Wesley wrote to his brother on Christmas Day, 1734, saying that he had heard from his father that John was resolved not to accept the living at Epworth. Samuel told him that he was not at liberty to resolve against undertaking a cure of souls. See Priestley's Letters, pp. 17-19.

[2] Samuel replied on February 8: 'The order of the Church stakes you down, and, the more you struggle, will hold the faster.' To this Wesley answers:

[3] On October 14 Wesley took boat for Gravesend, where he boarded the Simmonds, and on the 21st sailed for Georgia. This letter is a farewell to his Oxford life. John Robson, the son of a gentleman in Sockbourne, co. Durham, entered Lincoln College in x732, at the age of seventeen. He took his degree in 1735. Wesley writes to him with the frankness of an old tutor, and one who had himself faced his friend's difficulties. His allusion to his own efforts to do good and the strictness which had given offense to some of his contemporaries is of special interest. He looks back on the memorable years spent at the University since he became a student at Christ Church on June 24, 1720, a week after his seventeenth birthday. His undergraduate days; his ordination as deacon and priest in Christ Church Cathedral; his election to his Fellowship at Lincoln College on March 17, 1726, and all the spiritual experiences of Oxford Methodism, must have crowded in upon him as he faced the New World, which was to complete his training for the work of the Evangelical Revival.

[4] John Burton was born in 1696 at Wembworthy, in Devonshire, where his father was rector. He was a scholar of Corpus Christi College, and soon after taking his degree in 1717 became a tutor there. He enjoyed a greater reputation than any other don of his time; but his ' incurable recklessness in money matters ' made him little better off at the end of his term than at the beginning. As Master of the Schools he introduced the study of Locke and other modern philosophers. He was a distinguished classical scholar. Among his pupils were the sons of Dr. Bland, through whose influence he was made Fellow of Eton College in 1733. The same year he was presented to the valuable living of Mapledurham, where he married the widow of his predecessor, Dr. Edward Littleton. She was the daughter of Mr. Geede, under-master of Eton, and was left with three infant daughters and without money or home. She was ' handsome, ingenious, elegant, and had great sweetness of temper.' She died in 1748. He spent the greater part of his time at Eton College. In 1755 Dr. Burton became Rector of Worplesdon, Surrey, where he resided during a portion of the year, and was the means of getting a causeway built by which the parishioners could reach Guildford in all weathers. He was with Oglethorpe at Corpus Christi, and in 1732 preached a sermon before the Trustees of Georgia and Dr. Bray's Associates. His Account of the Designs of the late Dr. Bray was published in 1764, and was often republished. He died on February 11, 1771, and was buried at the entrance to the Inner Chapel at Eton, under the organ-left. An inscription in Latin describes him as 'A man among the most eminent for learning, genius, piety, and contempt of wealth, and an admirable tutor of inglorious youth.' He published an edition of five Greek tragedies, and many pamphlets, tracts, and sermons. He was one of the most influential Georgia trustees, and introduced Wesley to Oglethorpe.

On September 8, 1735, he writes: 'Your short conference with Mr. Oglethorpe has raised the hopes of many good persons that you and yours would join in an undertaking which cannot be better executed than by such instruments.' On September 18 he says: ‘''Tis a happy circumstance that you should offer yourselves on this occasion. May your hands be strengthened and your endeavors prospered!' He invites Wesley to spend the night with him at Mapledurham, whence he would convey him to London and introduce him to his friends. On September 28 he sent a beautiful letter of advice as to his work on shipboard and in Savannah. Dr. Burton's letters to Wesley are given in the Journal, viii. 285-8. He went with the Wesleys from Westminster to Gravesend when they set out on their voyage.

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