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John Wesley - Evangelist
Chapter 3 - Oxford: University Life
Of this time Wesley writes, 'In the year 1729, I
began not only to read, but to study the Bible, as the one, the
only standard of truth, and the only model of pure religion. Hence
I saw, in a clearer and clearer light, the indispensable necessity
of having the mind which was in Christ, and of walking as Christ
also walked; even of having, not some part only, but all the mind
which was in Him; and of walking as He walked, not only in many
or in most respects, but in all things. And this was the light,
wherein at this time I generally considered religion, as a uniform
following of Christ, an entire inward and outward conformity to
our Master. Nor was I afraid of anything more, than of bending
this rule to the experience of myself, or of other men; of allowing
myself in any way the least disconformity to our grand Exemplar.'
In obedience to the summons he had received from Dr. Morley,
Rector of Lincoln College, Wadelt returned to Oxford to take pupils,
eleven of whom were at once placed under his care. Here he found
a nascent Methodist society, though as yet without the definite
name, consisting of Charles and two companions, to whom he immediately
joined himself, and by whom he was speedily recognized as their
spiritual leader. Under his guidance the little community soon
became the instrument of a spiritual propaganda, and gradually
increased in number and influence—a little seed that afterwards
was to become a great tree.
In his Short History of Methodism, published some years
afterwards, Wesley gives the following account :—'In November,
1729, four young gentlemen of Oxford—Mr. John Wesley, Fellow
of Lincoln College; Mr. Charles Wesley, Student of Christ Church;
Mr. Morgan, Commoner of Christ Church; and Mr. Kirkham, of Merton
College—began to spend some evenings in a week together,
in reading, chiefly the Greek Testament The next year two or three
of Mr. John Wesley's pupils desired the liberty of meeting with
them; and afterwards one of Mr. Charles Wesley's pupils. It was
in 173a that Mr. Ingham, of Queen's College, and Mr. Broughton,
of Exeter, were added to their number. To these in April was joined
Mr. Clayton, of Brazen-nose, with two or three of his pupils.
About the same time Mr. James Hervey was permitted to meet with
them, and, in 1735; Mr. Whitefield.' He says, 'They were all zealous
members of the Church of England; not only tenacious of all her
doctrines, so far as they knew them, but of all her discipline,
to the minutest circumstance. They were likewise zealous observers
of all the University statutes, and that for conscience' sake.
But they observed neither these nor anything else further than
they conceived it was bound upon them by their one book, the Bible;
it being their one desire and design to be downright Bible-Christians;
taking the Bible, as interpreted by the primitive Church and our
own, for their own and sole rule.'
This was the ' Holy Club,' of which Wesley was by the: wits dubbed
the Curator. These were the 'Bible-bigots,' the ' Bible-moths'
who, their deriders said, fed upon the Bible, as moths do upon
cloth; and against whom were directed the gibes and jeers of the
careless. But the opposition of the worldly spirits by whom they
were surrounded did not hinder them in their high purpose, while
it made more obvious their courage and singleness of aim. They
did not confine their attention, each man, to his own soul, or
generally to the welfare of the little community or club, but
they sought to rescue other young students from evil courses,
and to lead them to a religious life; they visited the prison
and the castle, where they read prayers on Wednesdays and Fridays,
and administered the Sacrament once a month; they raised money,
and procured books, medicines, and other requirements for poor
prisoners; they visited and helped poor families, and they taught
in schools and in the workhouse. In all this Wesley took the lead.
He himself founded one of the schools, paid the mistress, and
clothed some, if not all, of the children.
When preaching on Dress many years after, he tells that, while
he was at Oxford, 'in a cold winter's day, a young maid (one of
those we kept at school) called upon me. I said, "You seem
half-starved. Have you nothing to cover you but that thin linen
gown?" She said, "Sir, this is all I have." I put
my hand in my pocket, but found I had scarce any money left, having
just paid away what I had. It immediately struck me, will thy
Master say, "Well done, good and faithful steward? Thou hast
adorned thy walls with the money which might have screened this
poor creature from the cold! O justice! O mercy! Are not these
pictures the blood of this poor maid?"' Thus he urged upon
his hearers not to 'lay out on nothing, yea, worse than nothing,
what may clothe your poor, naked, shivering fellow-creature.'
And on another occasion, when preaching on The More Excellent
Way, he exhorts, 'First, if you have no family, after you have
provided for yourself, give away all that remains. This, he says,
was the practice of all the young men at Oxford who were called
Methodists. For example, one of them [himself] had thirty pounds
a year; he lived on twenty-eight, and gave away forty shillings.
The next year, receiving sixty pounds, he still lived on twenty-eight,
and gave away thirty-two. The third year, he received ninety pounds,
and gave away sixty-two. The fourth year he received one hundred
and twenty pounds. Still he lived, as before, on twenty-eight,
and gave to the poor ninety-two, Was not this a more excellent
way?
Thus in works of benevolence and Christian service, in the midst
of abounding wickedness, these young men lived in purity of life,
strengthening each other's faith and godly practice, living as
lights in the world, holding forth the word of life, in the midst
of a truly crooked and perverse generation. But this outward zeal
was not maintained without the most diligent religious exercises.
The rigorous watchfulness which Wesley kept over himself at this'
time, and the strenuous efforts he made to promote his spiritual
progress, are strikingly exhibited in A Scheme of Self-Examination,
which he tells us was used by the first Methodists in Oxford,
and which was undoubtedly his compilation. The document is extremely
interesting, not only as showing the inner life of the little
Methodist community, but, here particularly, as throwing light
on the severe system of self-discipline which Wesley was accustomed
to carry out, with the most rigorous precision, upon himself,
and which he urged upon others.
A SCHEME OF SELF-EXAMINATION USED BY THE FIRST
METHODISTS IN OXFORD.
A letter from one of Wesley's intimate fellow-collegians, Robert
Kirkham, one of the first band of Oxford Methodists, throws a
new light upon Wesley's sentiments at this time. Wesley had already
visited Kirkham at his home in Stanton, Gloucestershire, and had
been received as a welcome guest. Here he had made the acquaintance
of Kirkham's sister Betty, and seems to have been impressed by
her charms; nor was she indifferent to the personal attractions
of Wesley. This did not escape the notice of her brother. Writing
to Wesley, Kirkham says :—
'February 2, 1727.
'Your most deserving, queer character, your
worthy personal accomplishments, your noble endowments of
mind, your little and handsome person, and your obliging and
desirable conversation, have been the pleasing subject of
our discourse for some pleasant hours. You have often been
in the thoughts of M.B. [Miss Betty], which I have curiously
observed, when with her alone, by inward smiles and sighs
and abrupt expressions concerning you. Shall this suffice?
I caught her this morning in an humble and devout posture
on her knees.... I long for the time when you are to supply
my father's absence. Keep your counsel and burn this when
perused. You shall have my reasons in my next. I must conclude,
and subscribe myself, your most affectionate friend, and brother
I wish I might write,
'ROBERT KIRKHAM.'
Wesley's sister Martha seems to have been aware of his tender
sentiments, for, in a letter of near the same date, she says,
'When I knew that you were just returned from Worcestershire,
where I suppose you saw your Varanese [a fictitious and fancy
name for Miss Kirkham, used according to a custom of the time],
I then ceased to wonder at your silence, for the sight of such
a woman, "so known, so loved," might well make you forget
me. I really have myself a vast respect for her, as I must necessarily
have for one that is so dear to you.'
A subsequent correspondence, with Mrs. Pendarves, shows that
Wesley then retained his passion for Varanese, and that it was
not his fault that it did not lead to a life-long union. For more
than three years Wesley kept up a correspondence with Miss Betty
Kirkham, and spoke of her in the tenderest terms; but in 1731
their friendship was interrupted, whether by her father's interference,
or by her own preference for another, is not determined. It seems
probable that she married a Mr. Wilson, and died in the year 1732.
Wesley's intimacy with Miss Betty Kirkham led to his acquaintance
with her sister's friend, Mrs. Pendarves, the elder daughter of
Bernard Granville, and niece of Lord Lansdowne. She had married
early-at the age of seventeen-and was left a widow when she was
twenty-three. She was opulent, talented, accomplished, beautiful,
a brilliant lady of the Court, familiar with all that rank and
fashion could display; yet is said to have been sweet and modest,
intelligent and inquiring; as happy in country life as if She
had never known a Court or shone in the assemblies of London;
as of the assembly and the opera were altogether strange to her;
and, above all, she was interested and concerned about matters
of religious devotion and duty. It is no wonder if the young collegian,
with a. Mind open to every charm of refinement and goodness, as
well as to every grace of person, was altogether dazzled and subdued.
Wesley and Mrs. Pendarves corresponded freely; he under the pseudonym
of Cyrus, she of Aspasia. Several of the letters are given in
Lady Llanover's Life and Correspondence of Mrs. Delany. Dr. Rigg,
who had had the opportunity of examining the whole of the correspondence,
says, 'In all other correspondence, before as well as after this
period of his life, Wesley is always clear, neat, and parsimonious
of words; simple, chaste, and unaffected. In this correspondence,
on the contrary, he is stilted, sentimental, I had almost said
affected, certainly unreal, and at times fulsome, when he has
to speak of the lady herself, or attempts to turn a compliment.
One almost wonders how the lady, who never forgets herself, and
whose style is always natural and proper, was able to bear the
style in which he addressed her. It is only when a question of
religious casuistry, or of theology, or of duty, or of devotion,
is to be dealt with, that Wesley is himself again; then his style
is singularly in contrast with what it is in respect to points
of personality or of sentiment, His expressions of regard and
admiration are as high-flown as if they belonged to a Spanish
romance; his discussions are clear and close. It is hard to understand
how the same man could be: the writer of all these letters.'
This correspondence appears to have been continued up to August,
1731, when Mrs. Pendarves went to reside in Ireland; and though
it is probable Wesley wrote to her more than once after that time,
yet she did not write to him until, after an interval of three
years, she had returned to England. Then it was too late. During
those years Wesley had advanced greatly in character and in serious
devotion to the lofty aims of his calling, and had gained a higher
and a wider influence as a spiritual leader and guide. Dr. Rigg
pertinently remarks, that, ' in addition to the curious interest
of this correspondence, it reveals a background of natural character
which enables us to see in a much truer light the matured, and
in good part transformed, Wesley of later years. It reveals to
us the extreme natural susceptibility of Wesley to whatever was
graceful and amiable in woman, especially if united to mental
vigour and moral excellence.... He was naturally a woman-worshipper-at
least a worshipper of such women. An almost reverent courtesy,
a warm but pure affection, a delicate but close familiarity, marked
through life his relations with the good and gifted women—gifted
they were for the most part-with whom he maintained friendship
and correspondence.'
But, with Wesley's future life in view, this episode affords
ground for reflecting on the wonderful controlling providence
which then, and not then only, prevented a life destined for heroic
self-denial, and for almost unequalled labour in the service of
the Church and the race, from contenting itself with the limitations
of the ordinary, even though in his case the distinguished, career
of the parish clergyman or the college don.
Returning to our history, we find that, at the beginning of the
year 1730, Wesley accepted for some months a curacy eight miles
from Oxford, probably at Stanton Harcourt, where his friend Gambold
was afterwards the incumbent. It was not far from South Leigh,
where Wesley had preached his first sermon. Thither he rode on
Sundays, but what other service he rendered is not known. He received
payment at the rate of £3o per year. This curacy afforded him
a new field of usefulness, and enabled him to retain his horse
without abridging his charities.
In the spring of the following year he began to observe the Wednesday
'and Friday fasts, after the practice of the early Church, tasting
no food till three in the afternoon. He tells us that he strove
diligently against all sin; omitted no sort of self-denial that
he thought lawful; carefully using, both in public and in private,
all the means of grace at all opportunities. He omitted no occasion
of doing good, and for that reason, he says, he suffered evil.
But, knowing all this to be nothing, unless it was directed toward
inward holiness, he aimed continually at attaining the image of
God, by doing God's will and not his own.
At this time he and his brother began the practice of conversing
in Latin when they were alone; a practice they continued through
life. In the spring of this year they paid a visit to Epworth,
remaining there three weeks. They walked there and hack, discovering
that four or five and twenty miles is an easy and safe day's journey
in hot weather, as well as cold; and that it was easy to read
as they walked, for a distance of ten or a dozen miles, without
feeling either faint or weary; and on their return Wesley tells
his mother that the motion and sun together, in their last hundred
and fifty miles' walk, so thoroughly carried off all their 'superfluous
humours' that they continued in perfect health, though the season
in Oxford was a very sickly one; and, as many thought he and his
brother were too strict, and laid burdens on themselves which
they were not able to bear, he begs that, if she judged them to
be too superstitious or enthusiastic on the one hand, or too remiss
on the other, she would inform them as speedily as possible. And,
writing to his father at the same time, he says, ' Since our return
our little company that used to meet us on a Sunday morning is
shrunk into almost none at all. Mr. Morgan is sick at Holt; Mr.
Boyce is at his father's at Barton; Mr. Kirkham must shortly leave
Oxford; and a young gentleman who used to make a fourth, either
afraid or ashamed, or both, is returned to the ways of the world,
and studiously shuns our comply.' But though he narrates the fact
he uses no word signifying any discouragement on his part. Indeed,
such a sentiment, so entirely unheard in after life, when there
was so much to occasion it, seems not to find place even at this
early period. ' However,' he adds, 'the poor at the castle had
the Gospel preached to them, and some of their wants supplied,
and the children were still cared for.'
Amongst the interesting letters written by him to his ever-wise
counsellor, his mother, is one bearing date February 28, 1732.
She had said, 'I own I never understood by the real presence more
than that the Divine nature of Christ is then eminently present
to impart, by the operation of His Spirit, the benefit of His
death to worthy receivers.' He replied, 'One consideration is
enough to make me assent to your judgment concerning the Holy
Sacrament, which is, that we cannot allow Christ's human nature
to be present in it, without allowing either CON- or TRANS-substantiation.
But that His divinity is so united to us then, as He never is
but to worthy receivers, I firmly believe, though the manner of
that union is utterly a mystery to me.' Speaking of his many spiritual
privileges, he asks,' What shall I do to make all these blessings
effectual, to gain from them that mind which was also in Christ
Jesus? To all who give signs, of their not being strangers to
it, I propose this question-and why not to you rather than any?
Shall I quite break off my pursuit of all learning, but what immediately
tends to practice? I once desired to make a fair show in languages
and philosophy; but it is past. There is a more excellent way,
and if I cannot attain to any progress in the one, without throwing
up all thoughts of the other, why, fare it well l Yet a little
while, and we shall all be equal in knowledge, if we are in virtue.
You say you "have renounced the world." And what have
I been doing all this time? What have I done ever since I was
born? Why, I have been plunging myself into it more and mere.
It is enough; "Awake, thou that sleepest." Is there
not "one Lord, one Spirit, one hope of our calling "?
One way of obtaining that hope? Then I am to renounce the world
as well as you. This is the very thing I want to do—to draw
off my affections from this world, and fix them on a better, But
how? What is the surest and the shortest way? Is it not to be
humble? Surely this is a large step in the way. But the question
recurs, How am I to do this To own the necessity of it is not
to be humble. In many things you have interceded for me and prevailed,
Who knows but in this too you may be successful!
These words show with what eagerness he was striving after holiness;
they exhibit his docile and teachable spirit; and they indicate
the kind of self-discipline to which he was bending himself-a
discipline carried on within the quiet enclosure of University
life, that so well helped to prepare him for the outward struggles
yet to come.
Being in London in the July of this year, Wesley made the acquaintance
of William Law, who was then living with Gibbons at Putney, and
began to read the mystic writers. This, as we shall see, ultimately
added another element to his complex experience, involving fresh
perplexities to be resolved, and fresh conflicts to be endured.
On November 23, 1736, he wrote to Samuel Wesley,' I think the
rock on which I had the nearest made shipwreck of the faith was
the writings of the mystics; under which term I comprehend all,
and only those, who slight any of the means of grace.' He also
became known to many members of the Society for the Propagation
of Christian Knowledge, with whose aims he most entirely sympathized.
He was admitted to the Society on August 3 of this year.
On August 26, Mr. Morgan died. He was one of the three who were
the first to be dubbed Supererogation men and Methodists. As false
reports were spread abroad that his death had been occasioned
by the excessive fasting and other austerities which the Wesleys
had induced him to practise, Wesley wrote a long letter to Morgan's
father, giving some account of his son's Christian character and
charitable works, and of the general proceedings of their little
company.
This so far satisfied Mr. Morgan that he subsequently placed
his younger son as a pupil under the care of Charles Wesley. In
the preface to his published Journals, Wesley inserted
this letter as 'a plain account of the rise of that little society
which had been so variously represented.'
During the course of this summer Wesley made two journeys to
Epworth. In the first, while he was standing on the garden wall
at a friend's house, it fell flat under him, but he escaped unhurt.
His second journey was an affecting one. As his father was growing
old and infirm, and his brother Samuel was about to reside in
Tiverton, it was not probable that all the family would ever gather
together again within the walls of that old parsonage at Epworth—
the home of the gifted and honoured family whose name was to become
familiar to English-speaking races in every corner of the habitable
globe; the home to which the thoughts of so many in after generations
would turn, and to which the steps of so many pilgrims from this
land and from over the seas would wander.
On the first day of this year, 1733, Wesley preached at St. Mary's,
Oxford, before the University, on 'The Circumcision of the Heart,'
from Rom. ii. 29. Writing to a friend thirty years after, he says,
' The sermon contains all that I now teach concerning salvation
for all sin, and loving God with an undivided heart.' But on one
topic it did not teach all that he afterwards taught. On the subject
of faith it lacked the teaching that Wesley at that time himself
lacked. He defines faith to be ' an unshaken assent to all that
God hath revealed in Scripture, and in particular to those important
truths, Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners; He bare
our sins in His own body on the tree; He is the propitiation for
our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the
whole world.' But when he afterwards published the sermon, in
1748, in the second of his first four volumes of sermons, he added
the following remarkable passage: ('not only an unshaken assent,'
etc.) 'but likewise the revelation of Christ in our hearts; a
divine evidence or conviction of His love, His free, un- merited
love to me a sinner; a sure confidence in His pardoning mercy,
wrought in us by the Holy Ghost; a confidence whereby every true
believer is enabled to hear witness. I know that my redeemer liveth;
that I have an Advocate with the Father, and that Jesus Christ
the righteous is my Lord, and the propitiation for MY sins. I
know He hath loved. He hath reconciled me, even me to God; and
I have redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins.'
It will presently be seen how closely similar these words are
to those used by him, ashe recorded his faith after the memorable
meeting in Aldersgate Street, at which he first grasped the truth
of his personal and individual interest in Christ's atonement;
that event being the dividing line between, 'He is the propitiation
for the sins of the whole world and 'He is the propitiation for
my sins.'
This year was signalized by his printing ('the first time I ventured
to print anything') A Collection of Forms of Prayer, designed
for the use of his pupils. Thus began that prolific literary labour
which was continued to the end of his day, and which none of his
toils abated. The number and variety of his publications astonishes
every student of his life.
His father being in a bad state of health and apparently declining
rapidly, Wesley repaired to Epworth. Passing over the bridge at
Daventry, his horse fell over it with him; but he escaped unhurt,
and, as so often afterwards, found occasion for thankfulness to
God because of preservation in imminent danger. His parents were
very anxious that he should be settled at Epworth in case of his
father's death. After &is return to Oxford he wrote to his
mother, 'You observed when I was with you, that I was very indifferent
as to the having or not having the living of Epworth. I was indeed
utterly unable to determine either way; and that for this reason:
I know, if I could stand my ground here, and approve myself a
faithful minister, of our blessed Jesus, by honour and dishonour,
through evil report and good report; then there would not be a
place under the heaven like this for improvement in every good,'
And again,' I have as many pupils as I need, and as many friends;
when more are better for me, I shall have more. If t have no more
pupils after these are gone from me, I shall then be glad of a
curacy near You; if I have, I shall take it as a signal that I
am to remain here,"
In May he again set out for Epworth, calling at Manchester upon
his friend Clayton, who had now left the University. On his return
to Oxford he saw the bad effects of his absence upon his pupils
and the members of their little society. He now found himself
surrounded by enemies, triumphing over him, while friends were
deserting him; and he saw the fruits of his labours in danger
of being blasted before they had reached maturity. But he stood
firm as a rock, and being conscious of his own integrity, and
that he had nothing in view but to serve God and benefit his neighhours,
he viewed his situation with calmness, and in the simplicity of
his heart wrote thus to his father : —
'June 13, 1733.
'The effects of my last journey, I believe,
will make me more cautious of staying any time from Oxford
for the future; at least till I have no pupils to take care
of, which probably will be within a year or two, One of my
young gentlemen told me at my return, that he was' more and
more afraid of singularity; another, that he had read an excellent
piece of Mr. Locke's, which had convinced him of the mischief
of regarding authority. Both of them agreed, that the observing
of Wednesday as a fast was an unnecessary singularity; the
Catholic Church (that is, the majority of it) having long
since repealed, by contrary custom, the injunction she formerly
gave concerning it. A third, who could not yield to this argument,
has been convinced by a fever, and Dr. Frewin. Our seven and
twenty communicants at St. Mary's were on Monday shrunk to
five; and, the day before, the last of Mr. Clayton's pupils
who continued with us, informed me, that he did not design
to meet us any more.
'My ill success, as they call it, seems to
be what has frightened every one away from a falling house.'
He now redoubled his diligence with his pupils, that they might
recover the ground they had lost. He had been blamed both by friends
and enemies for his singularity, and for some particular practices
which he observed. Writing to his mother on these matters, he
reveals his thoughts and methods. He says, August 17, 1733, 'The
thing that gives offence here is the being singular with regard
to time, expense, and company. This is evident beyond exception,
from the case of Mr. Smith, one of our Fellows, who no sooner
began to husband his time, to retrench unnecessary expenses, and
to avoid his irreligious acquaintance, but he was set upon, by
not only all those acquaintance, but many others too, as if he
had entered into a conspiracy to cut all their throats; though
to this day he has not advised any single person, unless in a
word or two and by accident, to act as he did in any of these
instances.' He adds:
'It is true indeed, that "the devil hates offensive
war most;" and that whoever tries to rescue more than
his own soul from his hands will have more enemies, and meet
with greater opposition, than if he was content with "having
his own life for a prey." That I try to do this is likewise
certain; but I cannot say whether I "rigorously impose
any observances on others," till I know what that phrase
means. What I do is this: When I am entrusted with a person
who is first to understand and practise, and then to teach,
the law of Christ, I endeavour, by an intermixture of reading
and conversation, to show him what that law is; that is, to
renounce all inordinate love of the world, and to love and
obey God with all his strength. When he appears seriously
sensible of this, I propose to him the means God hath commanded
him to use, in order to that end; and a week, or a month,
or a year after, as the state of his soul seems to require
it, the several prudential means recommended by wise and good
men. As to the times, order, measure, and manner wherein these
are to be proposed, I depend upon the Holy Spirit to direct
me, in and by my own experience and reflection, joined to
the advices of my religious friends here and elsewhere. Only
two rules it is my principle to observe in all cases: First,
to begin, continue, and end all my advices in the spirit of
meekness; as knowing that' "the wrath," or severity,
"of man worketh not the righteousness of God;" and,
secondly, to add to meekness, long-suffering; in pursuance
of a rule which I fixed long since — never to give up
any one till I have tried him, at least ten years — How
long hath God had pity on thee?
Truly Wesley was preparing himself to be a great leader of men.
Tyerman observes, 'Methodism at Oxford was organized in 1729.
Two Years after, while 'Wesley and his brother were at' Epworth
it, dwindled into almost nothing; and two yeas later still, when
it had increased to seven and twenty communicants, during another
brief Epworth visit it was almost utterly destroyed, for the seven
and twenty were reduced to five. All this goes to show that Wesley
was the soul of this movement, and that without him it would have
been dissolved and become extinct. . . . The five poor Methodists
remaining, not reckoning Wesley himself, were doubtless Charles
Wesley, Benjamin Ingham, James Hervey, John Gambold, and, probably,
Charles Kinchin. All honour to such names ! They kept the fire
burning when it was in danger of going out. Wesley was their master-spirit;
but they were faithful and willing co-workers.'
A more exact picture of Wesley and his methods, and of the little
band of Methodists at this tithe, than that furnished in a letter
of Gambold's, one of themselves, cannot be given, It is too precise
and exact in its details to be omitted, notwithstanding its length.
Gambold writes:
'Mr. Wesley, late of Lincoln College, has been the instrument
of so much good to me, that I shall never forget him. Could
I remember him as I ought, it would have very near the same
effect as if he was still present; for a conversation so unreserved
as was his, so zealous in engaging his friends to every instance
of Christian piety, has left nothing to be Said, but what
occurs to us as often as we are disposed to remember him impartially.
'About the middle of March, 1730, I became acquainted with
Mr. Charles Wesley of Christ Church. I was just then come
up from the country, and had made a resolution, to find out
some pious persons of religion to keep company with, or else
to instil something of it into those I knew already. I had
been for two years before in deep melancholy; so God was pleased
to order it, to disappoint and break a proud spirit, and to
embitter the world to me; as l was inclining to relish its
vanities. During this time I had no friend to whom I could
open my mind, to any purpose. No man did care for my Soul;
or none, at least, understood its paths. They that were at
ease could not guess what my sorrow was for. The learned endeavoured
to give me right notions, and the friendly to divert me. But
I had a weight upon my heart, which only prayer could in some
degree remove. I prepared myself to make trial of the value
and comfort of society, being a little recovered. One day
an old acquaintance entertained me with some reflections on
the whimsical Mr. Wesley, his preciseness and pious extravagances.
Though I had lived with him four years in the same college,
yet so unable was I to take notice of anything that passed,
that I knew nothing of his character; but upon hearing this,
I suspected be might be a good Christian. I therefore went
to his room, and, without any ceremony, desired the benefit
of his conversation. I had so large a share of it henceforth,
that hardly a day passed, while I was at college, but we were
together once, if not oftener.
'After some time he introduced me to his brother John, of
Lincoln College. "For," said he, "he is somewhat
older than I, and can resolve your doubts better." This,
as I found afterwards, was a thing which he was deeply sensible
of; for I never observed any person have a more real reference
for another, than he constantly had for his brother. Indeed,
he followed his brother entirely. Could I describe one of
them, I should describe both. And therefore I shall say no
more of Charles, but that he was a man made for friendship;
who, by his cheerfulness and vivacity, would refresh his friend's
heart; with attentive consideration, would enter into and
settle all his concerns; so far as he was able, would do anything
for him great or small; and by a habit of openness and freedom,
leave no room for misunderstanding.
'The Wesleys were already talked of for some religious practices,
which were first occasioned by Mr. Morgan, of Christ Church.
From these combined friends began a little society; for several
others, from time to time, fell in; most of them only to be
improved by their serious and useful discourse; and some few
espousing all their resolutions and their whole way of life.
'Mr. John Wesley was always the chief manager, for which
he was very fit; for he not only had more learning and experience
than the rest, but he was blest with such activity as to be
always gaining ground, and such steadiness that he lost none.
What proposals he made to any were sure to charm them, because
he was so much in earnest; nor could they afterwards slight
them, because they saw him always the same. What supported
this uniform vigour was the care he took to consider well
of every affair before he engaged in it, making all his decisions
in the fear of God, without passion, humour, or self-confidence;
for though he had naturally a very clear apprehension, yet
his exact prudence depended more on humanity and singleness
of heart. To this I may add, that he had, I think, something
of authority in his countenance; though, as he did not want
address, he could soften his manner, and point as occasion
required. Yet he never assumed anything to himself above his
companions. Any of them might speak their mind, and their
words were as strictly regarded by him as his were by them.
'It was their custom to meet most evenings, either at his
chamber or one of the others, where, after some prayers (the
chief subject of which was charity), they ate their supper
and he read some book. But the chief business was to review
what each had done that day, in pursuance of their common
design, and to consult what steps were to be taken the next.
'Their undertaking included these several particulars: To
converse with young students; to visit the' prisons; to instruct
some poor families; and to take care of a school and a parish
workhouse.
'They took great pains with the younger members of the University,
to rescue them from bad company, and encourage them in a sober,
studious life. If they had some interest with any such, they
would get them to breakfast, and, over a dish of tea, endearour
to fasten some good hint upon them. They would bring them
acquainted with other well-disposed young men. They would
help them in those parts of learning which they stuck at.
They would close with their best sentiments, drive on their
convictions, give them rules of piety, when they would receive
them, and watch over them with great tenderness.
'Some or other of them went to the castle every day; and
another most commonly to Bocardo. Whoever came to the castle
was to read in the chapel to as many prisoners as would attend,
and to talk to the man or men whom he had taken particularly
in charge. Before reading, he asked, Whether they had prayers
yesterday? (For some serious men among the prisoners read
family prayers with the rest.) Whether they had read over
again what was read last, and what they remembered of it?
Then he went over the heads of it to them; and afterwards
went on in the same book for a quarter of an hour. The books
they used were the Christian Monitor, the Country Parson's
Advice to his Parishion's, and such like. When he had done,
he summed up the several particulars that had been insisted
on, enforced the advice given, and reduced it at least to
two or three sentences, which they might easily remember.
Then he took his man aside, and asked him, Whether he was
in the chapel yesterday? and other questions concerning his
care to serve God, and learn his duty.
'When a new prisoner came, their conversation with him, for
four or five times was particularly close and searching. Whether
he bore no malice towards those that did prosecute him, or
any others? The first time after professions of goodwill,
they only inquiz0d of h/s circumstances in the world. Such
questions imported friendship, and engaged the man to open
his heart. Afterwards they entered upon such inquiries as
most concern a prisoner. Whether he submitted to the disposal
of Providence? Whether he repented his past life? Last of
all, they asked him, Whether he constantly used private prayer,
and whether he had ever been communicated. Thus, most or all
of the prisoners were spoken to in their turns, But, if any
one was either under sentence of death, or appeared to have
some intentions of a new life, they came every day to his
assistance; and partook in the conflict and suspense of those
who now should be found able, or not able, to lay hold on
salvation. In order to release those who were confined for
small debts, and were bettered by their affliction, and likewise
to purchase books, physic, and other necessaries, they raised
small fund, to which many of their acquaintance contributed
quarterly. They had prayers at the castle most Wednesdays
and Fridays, a sermon on Sundays, and the Sacrament once a
month.
'When they undertook any poor family, they saw them, at least,
once a week; sometimes gave them money; admonished them of
their vices; read to them, and examined their children. The
school was, I think, of Mr. Wesley's own setting up. At all
events, he paid the mistress, clothed some, if not all of
the children. When they went thither, they inquired how each
child behaved; saw their work (for some could knit and spin);
heard them read; heard them their prayers and Catechism, and
explained part of it. In the same manner they taught the children
in the workhouse; and read to the old people as they did to
the prisoners.
'Though some practices of Mr. Wesley and his friends were
much — their fasting on Wednesday and Friday — after
the custom of the primitive Church; their coming on those
Sundays, when there was no sacrament in their own colleges,
to receive it at Christ Church — yet nothing was so much
disliked as these charitable employments. They seldom took
any notice of the accusations brought against them; but if
they made any reply, it was commonly such a 'plain and simple
one, as if there was nothing more in the case, but that they
had heard such doctrines of their Saviour, and believed and
done accordingly.' "Shall we be more happy in another
life, the more virtuous we are in this? Are we the more virtuous
the more intensely we love God and man? Is love, as all habits,
the-more intent, the more we exercise it? Is either helping,
or trying to help, man, for God's sake, an exercise of love
to God or man? Particularly, is the feeding the hungry, the
giving drink to the thirsty, the clothing the naked, the visiting
sick persons or prisoners, an exercise of 'love to God or
man? Is the endeavouring to teach the ignorant, to admonish
sinners, to encourage the good, to comfort the afflicted,
to confirm the wavering, and to reconcile enemies, the exercise
of love to God or man? Shall we be the more happy in another
life. If we do the former of these things, and try rode the
latter? Or if we do not the one, nor try to do the other."'
This is a minute delineation of the proceedings of the Holy Club,
written in great simplicity by one of themselves. It will be seen
how prominent a part Wesley took in all. It is indicative of his
attention to minute details, and exhibits the influence of his
orderly, logical, and earnest mind. In the remainder of Gambold's
narrative, for such it is, Wesley is more directly spoken of,
and we are better enabled to imagine him in the pursuit of his
work. Gambold goes on to say:
'What I would chiefly remark upon is the manner in which
Mr. Wesley directed his friends. Because he required such
a regulation of our studies, as might devote them all to God,
he has been cried out upon as one that discouraged learning.
Far from that; the first thing he struck at in young men was
that indolence which would not submit to close thinking. Nor
was he against reading much, especially at first; because
then the mind ought to fill itself with materials, and try
everything that looks bright and perfect
'He earnestly recommended to them a method
and order in all their actions. After their morning devotions
(which were at a fixed and early hour, from five to six being
the time, morning as well as evening), he advised them to
determine with themselves what they were to do all the parts
of the day. By such foresight, they would, at every hour's
end, not be in doubt how to dispose of themselves; and by
bringing themselves under the necessity of such a plan, they
might correct the impotence of a mind that had been used to
live by humour and chance, and prepare it by degrees to bear
the other restraints of a holy life.
'The next thing was to put them upon keeping
the fasts, visiting poor people, and coming to the weekly
Sacrament; not only to subdue the body, increase charity,
and obtain Divine grace, but (as he expressed it) to cut off
their retreat to the world. He judged that, if they did these
things, men would cast out their name as evil, and, by the
impossibility of keeping fair any longer with the world, oblige
them to take their whole refuge in Christianity. But those
whose resolutions he thought would not bear this test, he
left to gather strength by their secret exercises.
'It was his earnest care to introduce them to the treasures
of wisdom and hope in the Holy Scriptures; to teach them not
only to endure that book, but to form themselves by it, and
to fly to it as the great antidote against the darkness of
this world. For some years past, he and his friends read the
New Testament together at evening. After every portion of
it, having heard the conjectures the rest had to offer, he
made his observations on the phrase, design, and difficult
places. One or two wrote these down from his mouth. 'He hid
much stress upon self-examination. He taught them (besides
what occurs in his Collection of Prayers) to take account
of their actions in a very exact manner, by writing a constant
diary. In this, they noted down in cipher, once if not oftener
in the day, what chiefly their employments had been in the
several parts of it, and how they had performed each. Mr.
Wesley had these records of his life by him for many years
past. And some I have known, who, to seal their convictions
and make their repentance more solemn, would write down such
reflections upon themselves as the anguish of their soul at
that time suggested, adding any spiritual maxim which some
experience of their own had confirmed to them.
'Then, to keep in their minds an awful sense
of God's presence, with a constant dependence on His help,
he advised them to ejaculatory Prayers. They had a book of
ejaculations relating to the chief virtues, and, lying by
them as they stood at their studies, they at intervals snatched
a short petition out of it. But at last, instead of that variety,
they contented themselves with the following aspirations(containing
acts of faith, hope, love, and self-resignation at the end
of every hour)—"Consider and hear me,"etc.’
Although the so-called 'Methodists’ were by their practices
distinguished from the rest of the University, it does not appear
that they had formed themselves into a definite' Religious Society!
That Wesley contemplated their doing so seems probable from a
letter addressed to him by his friend Clayton, who was now resident
in Manchester. Clayton says, 'I was at Mr. Deacon's when your
letter came to hand, and we had a deal of talk about your scheme
of avowing yourselves as a society, and fixing upon a set of rules.
The Doctor seemed to think you had better let it alone; for to
what end would it serve? It would be no additional tie upon yourselves;
and perhaps would be a snare for the consciences of those weak
brethren who might chance come among you. Observing the stations
[the fast on Wednesdays and Fridays], and weekly communion, are
duties which stand upon a much higher footing than a rule of a
society; and they who can set aside the command of God and the
authority of the Church will hardly, I doubt, be tied by the rules
of a private society.'
On June 11, 1734, Wesley again preached before the University,
and for his sermon—' his Jacobite sermon '—was ‘much
mauled and threatened more.’ But he was wise enough to get
the Vice-Chancellor to read and approve it before he preached
it, and might therefore bid Wadham, Merton, Exeter, and Christ
Church do their worst. This is all that is known of this sermon.
But there is a sermon, preyed about this time by Wesley for the
use of his pupils, and published by him fifty-five years after,
the sentiments of which he says he had not in all that time had
occasion to alter. The sermon is on the duty of constant communion.
It illustrates alike his views on the subject, and the extreme
carefulness with which he sought to guide his pupils.
Wesley's frequent journeys, often on foot as well as on horseback
and the great and constant labour of preaching, reading, visiting,
etc., wherever he was, with hard study and a very abstemious diet,
had now greatly affected his health. His strength was much reduced,
and he had frequent attacks of spitting of blood. In the night
of July 16 he had a return of it in such quantity as to awake
him out of sleep, The sudden and unexpected manner of its coming
on, with the solemnity of the night season made eternity seem
near. He cried to God, ‘O, prepare me for Thy coming, and
come when Thou wilt!' His friends began to be alarmed for his
safety, and his mother wrote two or three letters, blaming him
for the general neglect of his health. He sought and took the
advice of a physician; and by proper care, and a prudent management
of his daily exercise, gradually recovered his strength.
In the autumn of this year (September 21, Moore says) he began
'the practice of reading on horseback which he continued for nearly
forty years. 'Near thirty years ago,' he wrote, in March, 1770,'
I was thinking, "How is it that no horse ever stumbles while
I am reading?" History, poetry, and philosophy I commonly
read on horseback (having other employment at other times). No
account Can possibly be given but this: Because then I throw the
reins on his neck. I then set myself to observe; and I aver, that
in riding above an hundred thousand miles, I scarce ever remember
any horse (except two, that would fall head over heels any way)
to fall, Or to make a considerable stumble, while I rode with
a slack rein. To fancy therefore that a tight rein prevents stumbling
is a capital blunder. I have repeated the trial more frequently
than most men in the kingdom can do. A slack rein will prevent
stumbling if anything will. But in some horses nothing can.'
The health of the veteran Rector of Epworth was now rapidly failing.
Apprehending the near approach of his end, and desiring that the
living of Epworth should remain in the family, he wrote to his
son, urging him to seek the next presentation, and thereby secure
the old home for his mother and sisters. His brother Samuel urged
the same upon him. Wesley wrote at considerable length to his
father, giving his reasons, under twenty-six heads, in favour
of his remaining in Oxford, and against his removing to Epworth.
His brother Samuel continued to debate the point with him. John's
main contention was, 'The question is not whether I could do more
good to others there or here but whether I could do more to myself;
seeing wherever I can be most holy myself, there I am assured
I can most promote holiness in others; but I am equally assured
there is no place under heaven so fit for my improvement as Oxford.'
Samuel sought to fix him to his obligation. 'You are not at liberty
to resolve against undertaking a cure of souls. You axe solemnly
engaged to do it before God and His high priest, and His Church.
Are you not ordained? Did you not deliberately and openly promise
to instruct, to teach, to admonish, to exhort those committed
to your charge? Did you equivocate then with so vile a reservation,
as to purpose in your heart that you would never have any so committed?
It is not a college; it is not a university; it is the order of
the Church, according to which you were called.' John replied,'
I do not nor ever did resolve against taking 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' Samuel says, 'You can leave Oxford when
you will. Not surely to such advantage. You have a probability
of doing good there. Will that good be wholly undone if you leave
it? Why should you not leaven another lump?' And again he urges,
'the order of the Church stakes you down, and the more you struggle
will hold the faster. If there be such a thing as truth, I insist
upon it you must, when opportunity offers, either perform that
promise, or repent of it.' To this John retorts, '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. 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. 1st, "You resolve against any parochial
cure of souls." 2nd, "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." And then I deny all three.'
John now desired to close the discussion, and being doubtful
only on one point raised by his brother— whether at his ordination
he had engaged to under- take the cure of souls—and recognize
that 'the true sense of the words of an oath, and the mode and
extent of its obligation, are not to be determined by him who
takes it, but by him who requires it,’ he referred the question
to Dr. Potteri, Bishop of Oxford, by whom he was ordained. The
reply is, '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.’ Within two months of the
date of this letter, Wesley by some means was led to set aside
all his strong reasons for continuing in Oxford, and, yielding
to the desire of the family, made application for the living at
Epworth. But the effort proved unsuccessful; it was already Promised
to another.
On April 25, 1735, the aged Rector passed peacefully to his rest
in the presence of his loving wife his two sons, John and Charles,
and other members of the family. Charles, writing to his brother
says,' You have reason to envy us, who could attend him in the
last stage of his illness. The few words he could utter I saved,
and hope never to forget. Some of them were, "Nothing too
much to suffer for heaven, The weaker I am in the body, the stronger
and more sensible support I feel from God. Tomorrow I will see
you all with me around this table, that we may once more drink
of the cup of blessing before we drink it new in the kingdom of
God."... He often laid his hand upon my head and said, "Be
steady. The Christian faith will surely revive in this kingdom;
you shall 'see it, though I shall not." To my sister Emily
he said, "Do not be concerned at my death; God Will then
begin to manifest himself to my family...... Oh, Charles, I feel
a great deal, God chastens' me with strong pain, but I praise
Him for it, I thank Him for it I love Him for it."...0n my
brother's asking him, "Whether he was not near heaven?"
he answered distinctly, and with the most of hope and triumph
that could be expressed in words, "Yes, I am" He spoke
once more, just after my brother had used the commendatory prayer;
his last words. were, "Now, you have done all,"., From
this time till about sunset he made sighs of offering up himself,
till my brother having again used the prayer, the very moment,
it was finished, he expired.' So closed the, chequered life of
one of the most noble-minded, active, cultured, faithful sons
of the English church.
The living was given away in May, resulting in the speedy dispersal
of the family, Mrs. Wesley finding a temporary home with her eldest
daughter, Emilia, at her school in Gainsborough, and thus closed
also the history of that distinguished, that unique home at Epworth
Parsonage.
Wesley returned to Oxford to pursue his favourite work there.
Many years afterwards, he wrote of this time, 'Having now obtained
what I long desired, a company of friends that were as my own
soul, I set up my rest, being fully determined to live and die
in this sweet retirement.' But Wesley was not his own master,
He was in higher hands. He must now prove that 'the way of man
is not in himself,' that 'it is not in man that walketh to direct
his steps.' A little while before his death, Samuel Wesley had
requested his son John to present a copy of his work on Job to
Queen Caroline, to whom it was dedicated; and during the preceding
year Wesley had already spent some time in London on business
relating to the publishing of this book. Almost as soon as he
had returned to Oxford from his father’s funeral he had occasion
again to go to London on this accounts. Here he met with his friend
Dr. Burton, of Corpus Christi College, and was by him introduced
to General Oglethorpe, who had been a friend and correspondent
of his father's. General Oglethorpe had just returned from Georgia,
whither he had gone to aid in establishing the colony newly founded
there. The trustees of the colony, of whom Dr. Burton was one,
were desirous of securing the services of John and Charles Wesley,
and some of their companions, to minister to the colonists, and
to act as missionaries to the Indians. The subject was now named
to Wesley, and he was strongly urged to comply with the request.
At first, he says, he peremptorily refused; but many providential
incidents followed, which at length constrained him to alter his
resolution. After taking counsel with his brother Samuel and with
Mr. Law, and visiting Manchester to consult his friends Clayton
and Byrom, he went to Gainsborough, where he spent three days
with his widowed mother, and laid the whole matter before her
and his eldest sister, Emily; having secretly determined that
he would accept his mother’s decision as indicating to him
the will of God. The noble and heroic woman, dependent as she
was upon her sons, her chief support and comfort in her declining
years, and clinging to them with a fervent devotion, boldly declared,
'Had I twenty sons I should rejoice that they were all so employed,
though I should never see them more.'
That this world have had his father's approbation cannot be doubted,
when it is known that, six months before his death, he had written
thus to General Oglethorpe: 'I am at length, I thank God, slowly
recovering from a long illness, during which were have been few
days or nights but my heart has been working hard for Georgia.
I had always so dear a love for your colony, that if it had been
ten years ago, I would gladly have devoted the remainder of my
life and labours to, that place, and think I might, before his
time, have conquered the language-without which little can be
done among the natives—if the Bishop of London would have
done me the honour to have sent me thither, as perhaps he then
might. But that is now over. However, I can still reach them with
my prayers, which I am sure will never be wanting.' This is most
interesting in the light of subsequent events. Little thought
he at that time that in less than twelve months two of his sons
would have embarked on this enterprise.
Samuel Wesley and Emilia both approved of his accepting the proposal,
but Wesley himself still hesitated. Dr. Burton wrote a pressing
letter to him on September 8, the persuasions of which he finally
yielded. When his brother Charles heard of this, he declared his
willingness to accompany him. This was vehemently opposed by Samuel,
but in vain. Charles engaged himself as secretary to General Oglethorpe,
and also as Secretary for Indian Affairs. At this time Charles
was not ordained, and was not forward to be; but his brother overruled
his disinclination, and he was ordained deacon by Dr. Potter,
Bishop of Oxford, and on the Sunday following priest by Dr. Gibson,
Bishop of London.
It does not appear that Wesley's consent to go to Georgia arose
out of any change in his views as to the attractiveness of Oxford
life and the value of his work there, for he evidently underwent
a very severe struggle before he yielded. And it is equally evident
that his compliance was against his own strong preferences and
inclinations. It is reasonable, however, to suppose that the partial
dissolution of his purpose to remain, which was brought about
by the pressure that induced him to apply for the cure at Epworth,
had in some measure prepared him to receive the forcible considerations
that were brought before him by Oglethorpe and Burton; and it
is not unfair to conclude that the conviction was wrought in his
mind by them, that the work in Georgia offered to him more favourable
conditions for his own Progress in holiness (his supreme desire);
a wider field for sefulness; and, assuredly, a more powerful appeal
to his Charity.
Writing many years after of this juncture in his history, in
reply to a public assertion that early had a very strong impression
of his designation to some extraordinary work, he says: 'Indeed
not I; I never said so; I never thought so; I am guiltless in
this matter. The strongest impression I had till I was three or
four and twenty was-
and afterwards (while I was my father's curate), to save my own
soul and those that heard me. When I returned to Oxford it was
my full resolve to live and die there; the reasons for which I
gave in a long letter to my father, since printed in one of my
Journals. In this purpose I continued, till Dr. Burton, one of
the trustees for Georgia, pressed me to go over with General Oglethorpe
(who is still alive, and well knows the whole transaction), in
order to preach to the Indians. With great difficulty I was prevailed
upon to go, and spend upwards of two years abroad.'
In a letter to 'A Friend,' from which the following extracts
are taken, Wesley gives his reasons for going forth on this mission.
'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 favourable 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 ....
'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 ....
'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 offence, 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 to attain such purity of thought, as suits
a candidate for the state wherein they 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 has 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 by that happy
contempt which cannot fail to attend all who sincerely endeavour
to instruct them ....
'Further: a sin which easily besets me is,
unfaithfulness to God in the use of speech. I know that this
is a talent instructed to me by my Lord, to be used, as all
others only for His glory .... But, I hope, from the moment
I leave the English shore, under the acknowledged character
of a teacher sent from God, there shall be no word 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!...
'I then hope to know what it is to love my
neighbour 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 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 ....
'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 have Moses and the
Prophets, and those have not....
'If you object, further, the losses I must
sustain in leaving my native country, I ask, Loss of what?
of anything I desire to keep? No; I 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 can put on, let him know that
the greatest biasing that can possibly befall him, is, to
be cut off from all occasions of gratifying those desires
....
But what shall we say to the loss of parents,
brethren sisters, nay, of the friends which are as my own
soul. "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;" saying, 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, of
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,"
In summarizing the period just reviewed, Isaac Taylor makes the
following observations: 'Wesley's state of mind, and his habits
at Oxford, included much intensity of feeling, brought to a focus-spot
upon his individual welfare. It would he harsh and inaccurate
to designate this introverted feeling as selfishness; or if we
were to do so, an appeal might fairly be made to the self-denying
labours and charities of Wesley, and of others who may come under
the same description. But there may be much egotism where there
is also much serf-denial for the good of others. That which disperses
this species of concentration, and which gives full play to a
genuine benevolence, is a better understanding of the Gospel than
Wesley had at this time, or until long afterwards, attained. And
yet we might say that Wesley's ascetic notions and practices,
and the dangerous extent to which he went in fasting, were less
indicative of his imperfect apprehension of Christianity, than
was the pertinacious opposition he made to his father's proposal
that he should take steps for being appointed as his successor
at Epworth. In fact, his earnest piety had brought out, and given
force to, that self-determining energy which was to qualify him
for his function as founder and ruler of a society; but at this
time it showed itself in an immovable resolution to think only
of his own (supposed) spiritual welfare; and in defending himself
in this position he stretched sophistry to the utmost, evading,
by shallow pleas, at once the import of his ordination vow a clear
call to extensive usefulness, and (if such considerations might
be listened to) the duty of a son toward his parents. While we
mark the overruling hand which had otherwise disposed Wesley's
lot, his own part on this occasion—that is to say, in clinging
to his college life when a populous parish was before him—shows
clearly enough that a wilfulness still held its mastery in his
mind, which years of severe discipline were needed to dispel.
Yet this state of his mind was nothing more than a stage in his
progress; it was not a mood in which a nature so noble (Christian
principles apart) could have remained stationary. Christian principles,
with a discipline efficient for its purpose, did at length thoroughly
set him free from the bondage of every restrictive or self-regarding
motive, and thenceforward as large and warm a philanthropy as
a human bosom has ever admitted ruled him supremely.'
The name of George Whitefield must be mentioned here, as it must
be again and again, and always with the respect due to one of
the mightiest heralds of the Gospel known in all modern times.
Born in the 'Bell Inn,' Gloucester, December 16 (O.S.), 1714,
he was committed, from the second year of his age, to the sole
care of a tender, faithful, loving, widowed mother, whom he ever
held in reverent affection. At four years of age he had the measles,
which, through the negligence of his nurse, left one of his dark-blue
eyes with a squint. His surroundings were not favourable to the
growth of goodness, and he became habituated to lying, evil-speaking
and petty thefts, card-playing and Sabbath-breaking; overflowing
with animal energy, full of wild, roguish tricks, with an impetuous,
fiery spirit, and quick temper. But some seeds of goodness were
sown in his young heart; and, though their growth was hindered
by other influences, it was not wholly prevented. He was fascinated
with stage-plays, spending whole days in studying and preparing
to act them. Having a good memory, and a fine natural elocution,
he was commonly selected to deliver the annual oration at the
Grammar School of St. Mary de Crypt. It is related that with part
of the money he received for his good acting and reciting, he
purchased Ken’s Manual for Winchester Scholars, a book which
had affected him much when his brother used to read it in his
mothers troubles, and which, for some time after he bought if,
'was of great use to his soul.’ At fifteen he took to the
dress and work of a comrnon drawer in his mother's inn. His religious
tendencies—for he was not without them-led him to frequent
reading of the Bible, even to sitting up late for the purpose.
Visiting for a time a brother in Bristol, he became the subject
of many religious emotions, He had 'much sensible devotion,' and
was filled with 'unspeakable raptures,' Sometimes' carried out
beyond himself;' he longed after the Sacrament, pondered the Imitation
of Christ, and delighted in it; he was impatient to hear the church-bell
calling him to worship; while his former employment became distasteful
to him, and he resolved not to return to it. But when, leaving
Bristol, he returned to his old companions, this was followed
by a relapse, and church-going and prayer ceased. His old love
for play-reading returned. One morning, whilst reading a play
to his sister, he said, 'Sister, God intends something for me
that we know not of. As I have been diligent in business, I believe
many would gladly have me for an apprentice; but every way seems
to be barred up, so that I think God will provide for me some
way or other that we cannot apprehend.' A visit from a former
schoolfellow, now a servitor at Pembroke College, Oxford, led
to his seeking a similar position. Passing through a period alternating
between efforts after a better life and relapses into sinful indulgence,
he at length, when nearly eighteen years of age, entered Pembroke
College, Oxford, as a servitor. He now toiled at his classics,
and adhered to his earlier religious practices. His excitable
mind was stirred by Law’s Serious Call to a Devout Life,
and his Christian Perfection.'
In the spring of this year Whitefield had undergone a great spiritual
change. Extremely pathetic is the story given by him in his Journals
of his passage through a deep sea of anguish to a condition of
holy joyfulness.
My inward sufferings were of a more exercising nature. .
. All power of meditating or even thinking was taken from
me .... God only knows how many nights I have lain upon my
bed groaning under what I have felt. Whole days and weeks
have I spent in lying prostrate on the ground in silent or
vocal prayer; and, having nobody to show me a better way,
I thought to get peace and purity by outward austerities.
Accordingly, by degrees I began to leave off eating fruits
and such like, and gave the money I usually spent in that
way to the poor. Afterward I always chose the worst sort of
food, though my place furnished me With variety. I fasted
twice a week.... For many months I went on in this legal state
.... Near five or six weeks I had now spent in my study, except
when college business obliged me to go down. During this time
I was fighting with my corruptions, and did little else besides
kneeling down by my bedside, feeling a heavy pressure upon
my body, as well as an unspeakable oppression of mind, yet
offering up my soul to God, to do with me as it pleased Him.
. . . I Went into Christ Church walk; near our college, and
continued in silent prayer under one of the trees kneeling
on my knees till ~e great bell rung for retirement to the
college. . .By this time I had left off keeping my diary using
my forms, or scarce my voice in prayer, visiting the prisoners,
etc. Nothing remained for me to leave, unless I forsook public
worship, but my religious friends. Now it was suggested that
I must leave them all for Christ’s sake. This was a sore
trial, but rather than not be, as I fancied Christ's disciple,
I resolved to renounce them, though as dear to me as my own
soul.
Accordingly, the next day, being Wednesday, whereon we kept one
of our weekly fasts, instead of meeting with my brethren as usual,
I went out into the fields, and prayed silently by myself Our
evening meeting I neglected also, and went not to breakfast, according
to appointment, with Mr. Charles Wesley the day following. This,
with many other concurring circumstances, made him suspect something
more than ordinary was the matter. He came to my room, apprised
me Of my danger if I would not fake his advice; recommended me
to his brother John, Fellow of Lincoln College, as more experienced
than himself. God gave me a teachable temper; I waited upon his
brother, who advised me to resume all my externals, though not
to depend on them in the least, and from time to time he gave
me directions as my pitiable state required.
'Soon after this Lent came on, which our friends [the little
band of Methodists] kept very strictly, eating no flesh during
the six weeks, except on Saturdays and Sundays. I abstained frequently
on Saturdays also, and ate nothing on the other days (except on
Sunday) but sage tea without sugar, and coarse bread. I likewise
constantly walked out in the cold mornings, till part of one of
my hands was quite black. This, with my continued abstinence and
inward conflicts, at length so emaciated my body, that at Passion
week, finding I could scarcely creep Upstairs, I was obliged to
inform my kind tutor of my condition, who immediately sent for
a physician to me.
'This caused no small triumph amongst the gownsmen, who began
to cry out, "What is his fasting come to now?" But,
however, notwithstanding my fit of sickness continued six or seven
weeks, I trust I shall have reason to bless God for it, through
the endless ages of eternity. For, about the end of the seventh
week, after having undergone innumerable buffetings of Satan,
and many months inexpressible trials by night and day under the
Spirit of Bondage, God was pleased at length to remove the heavy
load, to enable me to lay hold on his dear Son by a living faith,
and by giving me the Spirit of Adoption, to seal me as I humbly
hope, even to the day of everlasting redemption.
'But oh, with what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy that was full
of and big with glory, was my soul filled, when the weight of
sin went off; and an abiding sense of the pardoning love of God,
and a full Assurance of Faith, broke in upon my disconsolate soul
I Surely it was the Day of my Espousals, a day to be had in everlasting
remembrance. At first my joys were like a spring tide, and as
it were over, owed the banks. Go where I would, I could not avoid
singing of Psalms almost aloud; afterwards it became more settled,
and, blessed be God, saving a few casual intervals, abode and
increased in my soul ever since ....My mind being now more open
and enlarged, I began to read the Holy Scriptures (upon my knees),
laying aside all other hooks, and praying over, if possible, every
line and word. This proved meat indeed and drink indeed to my
soul. I daily received fresh life, light and power from above;
and found it profitable for reproof, for correction, for instruction
in righteousness,-every way sufficient to make the man of God
perfect, throughly furnished Unto every good word or work.'
Whitefield was behind Wesley in years and attainments, but he
was before him, in point of time, in securing the joyous blessedness
of the gospel faith. Whitefield was ordained by Dr. Benson, Bishop
of Gloucester, who, having previously inquired his age (he was
in his twenty-second year), said, 'Notwithstanding I have declared
I would not ordain any one under three and twenty, yet' I shall
think it my duty to ordain you whenever you come; for Holy Orders.'
He tells us that he spent the day before his ordination in abstinence
and prayer. In the evening he retired to a hill near the town,
and prayed fervently for about two hours, in behalf of himself
and those that were to be ordained with him. On Sunday morning
he rose early, and prayed rover St. Paul's Epistle to Timothy,
and more particularly over that precept, Let no one despise thy
youth. And he says, 'When the Bishop laid his hands upon my head,
if my vile heart doth not deceive me, I offered up my whole spirit,
soul, and body to the service of God's Sanctuary, and afterwards
sealed the good confession I had made before many witnesses; by
partaking of the Holy Sacrament of our Lord's most blessed body
and blood.'
Whitefield's ordination took place at Gloucester on Trinity Sunday,
1736, and he preached his sermon on The Necessity and Benefit
of Religious' Society to a very crowded audience the following;
Lord's day, in the Church in which he was baptized. He then set
out to Oxford, where he was received by his friends with great
joy. A week later he took his degree of Bachelor of Arts, after
having been at the University three years and three quarters.
It has seemed right to give this account of one of the Oxford
band of Methodists, inasmuch as he stands distinguished from the
others by his identification with the subsequent great Methodist
movement, and by his intimate association with Wesley.
The little band of Oxford Methodists now passes from our view.
It was not only deprived of the Wesleys and Ingham, but other
members of it removed from Oxford about the same time. Mr. Kinchin,
however, was elected Dean of Corpus Christi College, which compelled
his frequent residence there; he remained faithful to the principles
of the Methodists; and Dr. Hutchins, Hervey's tutor, continued
to be an Oxford Methodist long after all his old friends had gone.
It has been suggested that, on the removal of the Wesley's, the
few remaining Methodists came under Whitefield's care. Not precisely
so; for though he exerted a powerful influence upon them when
he was present, yet he was much away from Oxford during the time
that elapsed between Wesley's departure for Georgia and his own.
We find him at Oxford about the end of June, 1737, 'where,' he
says, ‘we had, as it were, a rendezvous of the Methodists,
and finding their interests flourishing, I hastened away and came
to London about the end of August.'
He embarked for Georgia on December 28, 1737.
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