Wesley’s Letters: 1751

SIX CRITICAL YEARS FEBRUARY 4, 1751, TO DECEMBER 22, 1756

To Ebenezer Blackwell [1]

LONDON February 4, 1751.

DEAR SIR, -- The money you left in my hands was disposed of as follows:

£ s. d.

To the Lending Stock . . . . 2 2 0

To Eliz. Brooks, expecting daily to have

her goods seized for rent. . . 1 1 0

To Eliz. Room a poor widow) for rent. . 0 5 0
Toward clothing Mary Middleton and

another poor woman, almost naked . 0 10 0

To John Edger, a poor weaver, out of work . 0 5 0
To Lucy Jones, a poor orphan . . . 0 2 0
To a poor family, for food and fuel . . 0 5 0
To Christopher Brown, out of business . 0 2 6
To an ancient woman in great distress . 0 2 6

Distributed among several sick families . 0 10 0

_____________

5 5 0

I am, dear sir,

Your affectionate servant.

To Ebenezer Blackwell [2]

BRISTOL March 5, 1751.

DEAR SIR, -- After an extremely troublesome day I reached Chippenham last night, twenty miles short of Bristol, and came hither between ten and eleven this morning at least as well as when I left London.

The note delivered to me on Sunday night, which ran in these words, ‘I am not determined when I shall leave London,’ convinces me that I must not expect to see the writer of it at our approaching Conference. This is indeed deserting me at my utmost need, just when the Philistines are upon me. But I am content; for I am well assured the Lord is not departed from me. Is it not best to let all these things sleep? to let him do just what he will do; and to say nothing myself good or bad, concerning it, till his mind is more cool and able to bear it?

I persuade myself neither Mrs. Blackwell, nor Mr. Lloyd [Samuel Lloyd, whose name Wesley sometimes spells ‘Loyd.’] or you will be wanting in your good offices. And will you not likewise advise and comfort her who is now likely to stand in need of every help? You see how bold a beggar I am. I can't be satisfied yet, without asking you to do more for dear sir,

Your most affectionate servant.

To Mr. Blackwell, In Change Alley.

To John Bennet [3]

BRISTOL March 12, 1751.

MY DEAR BROTHER, -- Our building obliges me to return to London. So that my journey into the North must be deferred a little longer. I expect to leave London on the 27th instant; to be at Wednesbury the 31st, and at Alpraham on Thursday, April 4; whence I think (at present) to go on to Munchester. The Saturday following I am to be at Whitehaven. The Wednesday and Thursday in Easter week I can spend wherever you think proper. I propose taking Leeds in my return from Newcastle.

We should all have been glad to see you here. I hope you both enjoy health both of body and mind. -- I am

Your affectionate brother.

PS. -- Perhaps you could spare time to visit Newcastle this spring. I should be glad to see Mr. Bodily. [This seems to be John Baddeley, Rector of Hayfield. See note to letter of Oct. 31, 1755.]

To his Wife [4]

TETSWORTH, 42 miles from London. March 27, 1751.

MY DEAR MOLLY, -- Do I write too soon? Have not you above all the people in the world a right to hear from me as soon as possibly I can? You have surely a fight to every proof of love I can give and to all the little help which is in my power. For you have given me even your own self. O how can we praise God enough for making us helps meet for each other! I am utterly astonished at His goodness. Let not only our lips but our lives show forth His praise!

Will you be so kind as to send word to T. Butts [Thomas Butts had been the Wesleys’ traveling companion. On April 19, 1744, Charles Wesley sent him to Wednesbury with £60, which he had collected for the sufferers in the riots. He traveled with John Wesley in Sept. 1746. On Feb. 8, 1753, proposals were made for devolving all temporal affairs on the Stewards, and a circular was sent out in which Thomas Butts and William Briggs announced that they had been invested with the care of printing and publishing. A letter from Butts to Wesley (Arminian Mag. 1779, p. 258) dated Oct. 31, 1750, on ‘The duty of all to pay their debts,’ shows that he was ‘honest as honesty itself.’ Mrs. Hannah Butts, on whom Charles Wesley wrote some memorial verses, may have been his wife. He seems to have retired about 1759.] that Mr. Williams [Anthony Williams was a Bristol Methodist, at whose house Wesley was a frequent guest in 1739. He may have lent Wesley this money to pay Richard Thyer. See Journal Diary, ii. 175, 181.] of Bristol will draw upon him in a few days for twenty pounds (which I paid Rd. Thyer in full), and that he may call upon you for the money?

If you still have a desire to make your will, Brother Briggs [William Briggs, of the Customs House had been for some time a Methodist preacher. He was a leader at the Foundry in 1745. See heading to letter of Feb. 25, 1769.] can write it for you. It requires no form of law -- no, nor even stamp paper. But if you apprehend any difficulty, Mr. I'Anson [Wesley’s legal friend and advisor. See W.H.S. v. 230-7.] will rejoice to advise you, either for my sake or your own.

My dear, forward the business with Mr. Blisson [Mr. Wesleys trustee. See the next three letters.] and the stating the accounts by Mr. Crook [Mr. Crook was evidently making some account of Mrs. Wesley's affairs. See next letter.] as much as possible. But O let no business of any kind hinder the intercourse between God and your soul! Neither let anything prevent your spend­ing at least one hour a day in private reading, prayer, and meditation. To hear you do this constantly will give a particular satisfaction to him who blesses God that he is

Ever Yours.

If any letter comes to you directed to the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, [See address at end of next letter.] open it: it is for yourself. Dear Love, adieu!

To Mrs. Wesley, In Threadneedle Street,

London.

To his Wife [5]

EVERSHAM, March 30, 1751.

MY DEAR LOVE, -- Methinks it is a long, long time since I wrote to you. So it seems, because while I am writing I see you before me: I can imagine that I am sitting just by you,

And see and hear you all the while

Softly speak and sweetly smile.

Oh what a mystery is this! That I am enabled to give you up to God without one murmuring or uneasy thought! Oh who h so great a God as our God? Who is so wise, so merciful? My dear Molly, who can have such reason to praise Him as we have? And I chiefly, to whom He has given an help so meet for me, as well as power to enjoy you to His glory, and to let you go whenever He calls.

Mrs. Seward, [Probably the widow of William Seward, Whitefield’s friend and helper in Georgia (see letter of May 8, 1739). Mr. Keech had been buried on March 20, and ‘his widow and daughter were sorrowing; but not as without hope, neither did they refrain from the preaching one day. So let my surviving friends sorrow for me’ (Journal, iii. 518).] Mrs. Keech, and many more here desire to be tenderly remembered to you. The first day you was here one of them said, ‘There is a wife for Mr. John Wesley,’ and earnestly affirmed ‘it would be so.’ And when the news­paper came, they all agreed ‘you was the person.’

Now, my deal is the time for you to overcome evil with good. Conquer Sally Clay and Sister Aspernell [Two devoted London Methodists. See Journal, vi. 9-10, 390; and letter of Nov. 9, 1755, to Mr. Gillespie.] altogether, with as many more as come in your way. Oh if God would give us Mr. Blisson too! Spare no pains. Let not the interview Mr. Lloyd spoke of [See next letter.] be forgotten or delayed. I hope Mr. Crook [See previous letter.] is entered upon his business, and that you find him capable of it. He had grace too once!

Whatever you do, do not lose your hour of retirement. And then in particular let my dearest friend remember me!

I hope my dear Jenny [Jenny Vazeille, his step-daughter.] gains ground.

To the Rev^d. Mr. John Wesley, [This line was not in Wesley’s hand-writing. See postscript to previous letter.]

In Threadneedle Street, London.

Franked by [Sir] J. Rushout, [M.P. for Evesham].

To Ebenezer Blackwell [6]

MANCHESTER, April 7, 1751.

DEAR SIR, -- You must blame yourself, ff your never denying me anything makes me ask more and more. But I am not assured whether it is proper for you to comply with what I am going to mention now. If it is, I know you will do it, although it will not be a pleasing task.

Mr. Lloyd thinks it absolutely needful that a friend or two of my wife should meet Mr. Blisson and a friend or two of his, in order to persuade him (if it can be done) to come to an account as to what remains in his hand. If Mr. Lloyd and you would take this trouble on yourselves, I do not doubt but the affair would end well.

We have hitherto had a very rough but a very prosperous journey. I only want more time; there being so many cams to various parts that I cannot possibly answer them all between this and Whitsuntide. O what reason have we to put forth all our strength! For what a Master do we serve! I trust we shah never be weary of His service. And why should we ever be ashamed of it?

I am persuaded Mrs. Blackwell and you do not forget me nor her that is as my own soul. -- I am, dear sir,

Your affectionate servant.

To Ebenezer Blackwell

LEEDS, May 14. 1751.

DEAR SIR, -- I am inclined to think Mr. Lloyd has hit upon the expedient which, if anything can, will induce Mr. Blisson to come to an amicable conclusion. I have wrote such a state of the case as he advised, and hope God will give a blessing to it.

I am much obliged both to Mrs. Blackwell and you on my own and on my wife’s account. She has many trials; but not one more than God knows, and knows to be profitable for hen I believe you have been and will be a means of removing some. If these outward encumbrances were removed, it might be a means of her spending more time with me; which would probably be useful as well as agreeable to her.

As the providence of God has called you to be continually engaged in outward things, I trust you will find Him continually present with you, that you may look through all, and

Serve with careful Martha's hands

And loving Mary's heart.

I am glad Mrs. Dewal has not forgotten me. I hope you all remember at the throne of grace, dear sir,

Your most affectionate servant.

To his Wife [7]

[Leeds, May 15 1751]

MY DEAR MOLLY, -- Love is talkative. Theref[ore I can't wait] any longer. For it is two w[eeks since] the former part of my last [letter] for you but [one]. And I found [such] nearness to you, that I could [not wait]. I hope, my Dear Love, that [you go] in the morning, and that you will dispatch all the [business] that nothing may hinder. [But] if God sees it will be [not so, may we] both say, Not as I will. . . .

I suppose you kn[ow] . . . Dearest Love, adieu.

Pray enclose Brother Armitage’s [letter]. Frank, and send it immediate[ly].

To the Rector and Fellows of Lincoln College [8]

Ego Johannes Wesley, Collegii Lincolniensis in Academia Oxoniensi Sodus, quicquid mihi juris est in praedicta Societate, ejusdem Rectori et Sociis sponte ac libere resigno: Ills universis et singulis perpetuam pacem ac omnimodam in Christo felicitatem exoptans.

JOHANNES WESLEY.

[‘LONDON, June 1, 1751.

‘I, John Wesley, Fellow of Lincoln College Oxford, do hereby spontaneously and freely resign whatever fights I possess in the aforesaid Society to the Rector and Fellows of the same; wishing to all and each of them perpetual peace and every species of felicity in Christ.

‘JOHN WESLEY,’]

Londini:

Kalendis Junei:

Anno Salutis Milleslmo, Septingentesimo, Quinquagesimo Primo.

To James Wheatley [9]

BRISTOL, June 25 1751.

Because you have wrought folly in Israel, grieved the Holy Spirit of God, betrayed your own soul into temptation and sin, and the souls of many others, whom you ought, even at the peril of your own life, to have guarded against all sin; because you have given occasion to the enemies of God, whenever they shall know these things, to blaspheme the ways and truth of God:

We can in no wise receive you as a fellow laborer till we see clear proofs of your real and deep repentance. Of this you have given us no proof yet. You have not so much as named one single person in all England or Ireland with whom you have behaved ill, except those we knew before.

The last and lowest proof of such repentance which we can receive is that: that, till our next Conference (which we hope will be in October), you abstain both from preaching and from practicing physic. If you do not, we are clear; we cannot answer for the consequences.

JOHN WESLEY.

CHARLES WESLEY.

[Wheatley’s immorality ‘put my brother and me,’ says Charles Wesley, ‘upon a resolution of strictly examining into the life and moral behavior of every preacher in connection with us; and the office fell upon me.’ He set out for this purpose on June 29. His brother wrote frequently to him during these anxious weeks. Dr. Whitehead has preserved some fragments of Wesley's letters which show how jealously the brothers watched over their band of helpers. See Whitehead's Wesley, ii. 266--70.

July 17. -- I fear for C.S. [Charles Skelton. He left Wesley in April 1754, intending to settle at Bury, but became an Independent minister in Southwark. See Journal, iii. 403, 470; iv. 93, 295.] and J.C. [Joseph Cownley, one of Wesley's best preachers. He died on Oct. 8, 1792. See Wesley’s Veterans iv. 122-69; and letter of Sept. 20, 1746.] more and more. I have heard they frequently and bitterly rail against the Church.

[On this Charles puts the following query:]

What assurance can we have that they will not forsake it, at least when we are dead? Ought we to admit any man for a preacher till we can trust his invariable attachment to the Church?

July 20. -- The Societies both must and shall maintain the preachers we send among them, or I will preach among them no more. The least that I can say to any of these preachers is, ‘Give yourself wholly to the work, and you shall have food to eat and raiment to put on.' And I cannot see that any preacher is called to any people who will not thus maintain him. Almost everything depends on you and me: let nothing damp or hinder us: only let us be alive, and put forth all our strength.

July 24. -- As to the preachers, my counsel is, not to check the young ones without strong necessity. If we lay some aside, we must have a supply; and of the two I prefer grace before gifts.

[Charles Wesley asks:]

Are not both indispensably necessary? Has not the cause suffered, in Ireland especially, through the insufficiency of the preachers? Should we not first regulate, reform, and bring into discipline the preachers we have before we look for more? Should we not also watch and labor, to prevent the mischief which the discarded preachers may occasion?

July 27. -- What is it that has eaten out the heart of half our preachers, particularly those in Ireland? Absolutely idleness; their not bring constantly employed. I see it plainer and plainer. Therefore I beg you will inquire of each, ‘How do you spend your time from morning to evening?’ And give him his choice, ‘Either follow your trade, or resolve before God to spend the same hours in reading, &c., [Wesley did his utmost to rouse and help his preachers to cultivate their minds. In Lent 1749 he met seventeen of them at Kingswood, and read lectures to them as he used to do to his pupils at Oxford.] which you used to spend in working.’

[London], August 3. -- I heartily concur with you in dealing with all, not only with disorderly walkers, but also triflers, µa?a????, p???p???µ??a?, the effeminate and busybodies, as with M. F. [See C. Wesley's Journal, ii. 90-1. He heard Michael Fenwick preach at Leeds (?) on Aug. 5. ‘It was beyond description.... I talked closely with him, utterly averse to working, and told him plainly he should either labor with his hands or preach no more. He hardly complied, though he confessed it was his ruin, his having been taken off his business. I answered I would repair the supposed injury, by setting him up again in his shop.’ See letter of Sept. 12, 1755. See also ibid. p. 94: ‘I heard J. J., the drummer, again, and liked him worse than at first’] I spoke to one this morning, so that I was even amazed at myself.

[London], August 8. -- We must have forty itinerant preachers, or drop some of our Societies. You cannot so well judge of this without seeing the letters I receive from all parts.

[London], August 15. -- If our preachers do not, nor will not, spend all their time in study and saving souls, they must be employed dose in other work or perish.

[London], August 17. -- C. S. pleads for a kind of aristocracy, and says you and I should do nothing without the consent of all the preachers; otherwise we govern arbitrarily, to which they cannot submit. Whence is this?

[Cullompton], August 24. -- Oh that you and I may arise and stand upright! [See next letter for Charles Wesley's verdict.] I quite agree with you: let us have but six, so we are all one. I have sent one more home to his work. We may trust God to send forth more laborers; only be not unwilling to receive them, when there is reasonable proof that He has sent them. [Wesley says on Aug. 21 that in Wiltshire and Devonshire he ‘found more and more proof that the poor wretch [Wheatley] whom we had lately disowned was continu­ally laboring to poison our other preachers’ See Journal, iii. 535.]

To Ebenezer Blackwell [10]

BRISTOL, July 3, 1751.

DEAR SIR, -- Before I left London I wrote to Mr. Butterfield, [See letter of April 16, 1752.] informing him of two families which are in great distress. As I have heard nothing since, I suppose the letter miscarried; unless my ominous name prevented its meeting with success. However, I have done my part, and it is only a little labor lost. Nay, in one sense it is not lost; for if we only desire to help one another, the willing mind cannot lose its reward.

My brother left us on Saturday. He designed to be at Worcester to-day, and then to proceed slowly towards Scotland. His mind seemed to be altogether changed before he went. He was quite free and open to us, and pressed us much to make use of his house in his absence, just as if it were our own. There is a fair prospect on every side. The people of Bristol in general are much alive to God and they are so united together that the men of false tongues can make no impression upon them.

Do you know what is the mater with John Jones? [See letter of April 16 1748.] I suppose he will speak freely to you. He seems to be much troubled at something, and I doubt, offended. I know, ff you can remove that trouble, it will be a pleasure to you to do it. We join in good wishes both to Mrs. Blackwell and you. --I am, dear sir,

Your very affectionate servant.

To Richard Bailey, Vicar of Wrangle [11]

LONDON August 15, 1751.

REVEREND SIR, -- 1. I take the liberty to inform you that a poor man, late of your parish, was with me some time since, as were two others a few days ago, who live in or near Wrangle. If what they affirmed was true, you was very nearly concerned in some late transactions there. The short was this: that a riotous mob at several times, particularly on the 7th of July and the 4th of the month, violently assaulted a ‘company of quiet people, struck many of them, beat down other, and dragged some away, whom, after abusing them in various ways, they threw into drains or other deep waters, to the endangering of their lives; that, not content with this, they broke open an house, dragged a poor man out of bed, and drove him out of the house naked, and also greatly damaged the goods, at the same time threatening to give them all the same or worse usage if they did not desist from that worship of God which they believed to be right and good.

2. The poor sufferers, I am informed, applied for redress to a neighboring Justice of the Peace. But they could have none -- so far from it, that the Justice himself told them the treatment was good enough for them, and that if they went on (i worshipping God according to their own conscience) the mob should use them so again.

3. I allow some of those people might behave with passion or ill manners. But if they did was there any proportion at all between the fault and the punishment? Or, whatever punishment was due, does the law dire~ that a riotous mob should be the inflictors of it?

4. I allow also that this gentleman supposed the doctrines of the Methodists (so called) to be extremely bad. But is he assured of this? Has he read their writings? If not, why does he pass sentence before he hears the evidence? If he has, and thinks them wrong, yet is this a method of confuting to be used in a Christian -- a Protestant country? particularly in England, where every man may think for himself, as he must give an account for himself to God?

5. The sum of our doctrine with regard to inward religion (so far as I understand it) is comprised in two points -- the loving God with all our hearts and the loving our neighbor as ourselves; and with regard to outward religion, in two more -- the doing all to the glory of God, and the doing to all what we would desire in like circumstances should be done to us. I believe no one will easy confute this by Scripture and sound reason, or prove that we preach or hold any other doctrine as necessary to salvation.

6. I thought it my duty, sir, though a stranger to you, to say thus much, and to request two things of you: (1) that the damage these poor people have sustained may be repaired; and (2) that they may for the time to come be allowed to enjoy the privilege of Englishmen -- to serve God according to the dictates of their own conscience. On these conditions they am heartily wiling to forrget all that is past.

Wishing you all happiness, spiritual, and temporal, I remain, reverend sir,

Your affectionate brother and servant.

To a Friend [12]

[SALISBURY], August 21, 1751.

I see plainly the spirit of Ham, if not of Korah, has fully possessed several of our preachers. So much the more freely and firmly do I acquiesce in the determination of my brother, ‘that it is far better for us to have ten or six preachers who are alive to God, sound in the faith, and of one heart with us and with one another, than fifty of whom we have no such assurance.’

To John Downes [13]

LONDON, November 7, 1751.

MY DEAR BROTHER, -- Your first hindrance is easily removed. Most of the preachers have now all they want. So might you have had if you had spoken to the Stewards, or (in case of their neglect) to me.

As to your second bodily weakness is a good reason for a temporary retirement.

Your third observation, that the people in general do not practice what they hear, is a melancholy truth. But what then? Is this a sufficient cause why either you or I should leave them? why we should give them up to their own heart’s lusts, and let them follow their own imaginations? In no wise; especially while them are some among them whose conversation is worthy of the gospel of Christ.

I grant also some of the preachers themselves do not adorn the gospel. Therefore we have been constrained to lay some of them aside, and some others are departed of themselves. [See letter of July 17.] Let us that remain be doubly in earnest.

You should make an excursion (as to Alnwick) now and then. Is not John Fenwick a proper person to relieve James Tucker at Whitehaven? If you think he is, pray send him thither forthwith. My love to your father and mother.

I entreat you tell me without reserve what you think of C. Skelton. [See letters of July 17 Aug. 17.] Is his heart with us, or is it not? Peace be with you. Adieu.

To John Dowries

LONDON, November, 7, 1751.

MY DEAR BROTHER, -- I think you write to me as ff you did not care to write. I am glad you went to Alnwick. [See previous letter.] The method you took of talking with each person in the Society apart, I hear, has been greatly blessed to them. I do not see how you could have dealt more favorably with Thomas Grumble [See W.H.S. vii. 65.] than you did. If he will leave the Society, he must leave it. But if he does, you are clear.

I know not what to do more for poor Jenny Keith. [Jenny Keith was a Scotswoman who came to the Orphan House Newcastle, to escape persecution, and was there known as ‘Holy Mary.’ She married James Bowmaker, a master builder at Alnwick, and died in 1752. She kept her religious life to the end. See Tyerman's Wesley, i. 542.] Alas, from what a height is she fallen! What a burning and shining light was she six or seven years ago! But thus it ever was. Many of the first shall be last, and many of the last first.

How are you employed? from five in the morning till nine at night? For I suppose you want eight hours’ sleep. What becomes of logic and Latin? Is your soul alive and more athirst for God? -- I am Your affectionate friend and brother.

To John Bennet

[November 1751.]

You judge quite right that one of our brethren ought to be at the Assizes at Chester. The most proper person of all others (if you receive this time enough) is John Bennet. It will be an exceeding great check to those who would otherwise blaspheme the gospel. That circumstance should be declared in open court, -- that this man was no Methodist; that the Germans have declared above two years agone in the pubic newspapers [See Journal, iii. 434-5. The Moravians wrote to the Daily Post in Sept. 1749, pointing out that they were not Methodists.] that they have nothing to do with the Metho­dists; and that therefore, whatever the Germans do, the Methodists are no more to answer for it than the Presbyterians. Stand fast.

To his Brother Charles [14]

[LONDON], December 4 1751.

On some points it is easier to write than to speak, especially where there is danger of warmth on either side.

In what respect do you judge it needful to break my power and to reduce my authority within due bounds? I am quite ready to part with the whole or any part of it. It is no pleasure to me, nor ever was.

There is another tender point which I would just touch on. The quarterly contribution of classes (something more than two hundred a year) is to keep the preachers and to defray all the expenses of the house. But for this it did never yet suffice. For you, therefore (who have an hundred and fifty pounds a year to maintain only two persons), [£100 a year was guaranteed to Charles at his marriage. He had no child in 1751.] to take any part of this seems to me utterly unreasonable. I could not do it, if it were my own case: I should account it robbery -- yea, robbing the Spittle. [Spittle (or spital), hospital for ‘poor folks diseased’ or for lepers (Brewers Dic. Of Phrase and Fable).] I have often wondered how either your conscience or your sense of honor could bear it; especially as you know I am almost continually distressed for money, who am expected to make up the deficiencies of this as well as all the other funds.

I am willing (if our judgments differ) to refer this or anything else, to Mr. Perronet or Mr. Blackwell. I desire only to spend and be spent in the work which God has given me to do. Adieu.

To John Downes [15]

LONDON, December 10, 1751.

MY DEAR BROTHER, -- I thank C. Herrington for his letter. [Is ‘C. Herrington’ Brother Errington? See letter of Jan. 8, 1757.] He should not fail to write whenever he sees occasion. If you are straitened for preachers, could not you make use of George Atchinson from Stockton for a time? I suppose James Tucker also is now with you. [From Whitehaven. See letter of Nov. 7.] He is, I verily believe, honest of heart; but a little too wise h his own eyes. Speak plainly to him, if you should ever hear that anything is amiss in his preaching or conversation. Brother Reeves will be here in a day or two. But he cannot return into the North yet.

I wish you would regulate a little at a time, as you find your health will permit. But you must carefully guard against any irregularity, either as to food, sleep, or labor. Your water should be neithr quite warm (for fear of relaxing the tone of your stomach) nor quite cold. Of all flesh, mutton is the best for you; of all vegetables turnips, potatoes, and apples (roasted, boiled, or baked) if you can bear them.

Take care you do not lose anything you have learned already, whether you learn more or not. You must needs be here (if alive) the 1st of March at our Conference. [The Conference was held in Leeds in May; but the name of John Downes is among those at­tached to the agreement given in the Journal iv. 9, and dated Jan. 29, 1752.] None will he present but those we invite.

How apt is the corruptible body to press down the soul! But all shall work together for good.

Now you can sympathize a little with me. We must expect no thanks from man. Evil for good will be our constant portion here. But it is well. The Lord is at hand. -- I am

Your affectionate friend and brother.

To Ebenezer Blackwell (?) [16]

LONDON December 20, 1751.

MY DEAR FRIEND, -- The point you speak of in your letter of September 21 is of a very important nature. I have had many serious thoughts concerning it, particularly for some months last past; therefore I was not willing to speak hastily or slightly of it, but rather delayed till I could consider it thoroughly.

I mean by ‘preaching the gospel’ preaching the love of God to sinners preaching the life, death, resurrection and intercession of Christ, with all the blessings which in con­sequence thereof are freely given to true befievers. By ‘preaching the law’ I mean explaining and enforcing the commands of Christ briefly compiled in the Sermon on the Mount.

Now, it is certain preaching the gospdel to penitent sinners ‘begets faith’; that it ‘sustains and increases spiritual life in true believers.’ Nay, sometimes it ‘teaches and guides’ them that believe; yea, and ‘convinces them that believe not.’

So far all are agreed. But what is the stated means of feeding and comforting believers? What is the means, as of begetting spiritual life where it is not, so of sustaining and increasing it where it is?

Here they devide. Some think preaching the law only; other, preaching the gospel only. I think neither the one nor the other; but duly mixing both, in every place, if not in every sermon.

I think the right method of preaching is this. At our first beginning to preach at any place, after a general declaration of the love of God to sinners and His willingness that they should be saved, to preach the law in the strongest, the closest the most searching manner possible; only intermixing the gospel here and there, and showing it, as it were, afar off.

After more and more persons are convinced of sin, we may mix more and more of the gospel, in order to beget faith, to raise into spiritual life those whom the law hath rain; but this is not to be done too hastily neither. Therefore it is not expedient wholly to omit the law; not only because we may web suppose that many of our hearers are still unconvinced, but because otherwise there is danger that many who are convinced will heal their own wounds slightly: therefore it is only in private converse with a thoroughly convinced sinner that we should preach nothing but the gospel.

If, indeed, we could suppose an whole congregation to be thus convinced, we should need to preach only the gospel; and the same we might do if our whole congregation were supposed to be newly justified. But when these grow in grace and in the knowledge of Christ, a wise builder would preach the law to them again; only taking particular care to place every part of it in a gospel light, as not only a command but a privilege also, as a branch of the glorious liberty of the sons of God. He would take equal care to remind them that this is not the cause but the fruit of their acceptance with God; that other cause, ‘other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, even Jesus Christ’; that we are still forgiven and accepted, only for the sake of what He hath done and suffered for us; and that all true obedience springs from love to Him, grounded on His first loving us. He would labor, therefore, in preaching any part of the law, to keep the love of Christ continually before their eyes; that thence they might draw fresh life, vigor and strength to run the way of His commandments.

Thus would he preach the law even to those who were pressing on to the mark. But to those who were careless or drawing back he would preach it in another manner, nearly as he did before they were convinced of sin. To those mean­while who were earnest but feeble-minded he would preach the gospel chiefly yet variously intermixing more or less of the law, according to their various necessities.

By preaching the law in the manner above described, he would teach them how to walk in Him whom they had received. Yea, and the same means (the main point wherein it seems your mistake lies) would both sustain and increase their spiritual life. For the commands are food as well as the promises; food equally wholesome, equally substantial. Thee also, duly applied, not only direct but likewise nourish and strengthen the soul.

Of this you appear not to have the least conception; therefore I will endeavor to explain it. I ask, then, Do not all the children of God experience that, when God gives them to see deeper into His blessed law, whenever He gives a new degree of light, He gives likewise a new degree of strength? Now I see He that loves me bids me do this. And now I fed I can do it through Christ strengthening me.

Thus fight and strength are given by the same means, and frequently in the same moment; although sometimes there is a space between: for instance, I hear the command, ‘Let your communication be always in grace, meet to minister grace to the hearers.’ God gives me more light into this command. I see the exceeding height and depth of it. At the same time I see by the same light from above) how far I have fallen short. I am ashamed; I am humbled before God. I earnestly desire to keep it better; I pray to Him that hath loved me for more strength, and I have the petition I ask of Him. Thus the law not only convicts the unbeliever and enlightens the believing soul, but also conveys food to a believer, sustains and increases his spiritual life and strength.

And if it increases his spiritual life and strength, it cannot but increase his comfort also. For doubtless the more we are alive to God, the more we shah rejoice in Him; the greater measure of His strength we receive, the greater will be our consolation also.

And all this, I conceive, is clearly declared in one single passage of Scripture: ‘The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes. More to he desired am they than gold, yea, than much fine gold ; sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.’ They are both food and medicine; they both refresh, strengthen, and nourish the soul.

Not that I would advise to preach the law without the gospel, any more than the gospel without the law. Un­doubtedly both should be preached in their turn; yea, both at once, or both in one. All the conditional promises are instances of this. They are law and gospel mixed together. According to this model, I should advise every preacher continually to preach the law -- the law grafted upon, tempered by, and animated with the spirit of the gospel. I advise him to declare explain, and enforce every command of God. But meantime to declare in every sermon (and the more explicitly the better) that the flint and great command to a Christian is, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ’: that Christ is all in all, our wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption; that all life, love, strength are from Him alone, and all freely given to us through faith. And it will ever be found that the law thus preached both enlightens and strengthens the soul; that it both nourishes and teaches; that it is the guide, ‘ food, medicine, and stay’ of the believing soul.

Thus all the Apostles built up believers: witness all the Epistles of St. Paul, James, Peter, and John. And upon this plan all the Methodists first set out. In this manner not only my brother and I, but Mr. Maxfield, Nelson, James Jones, Westall, and Reeves all preached at the beginning. By this preaching it pleased God to work those mighty effects in London, Bristol, Kingswood, Yorkshire, and Newcastle. By means of this twenty-nine persons received remission of fins in one day at Bristol only, [On May 21, 1739. Thomas Maxfield was one of the number. See letter of the 28th of that month.] most of them while I was opening and enforcing our Lord’s Sermon upon the Mount. In this manner John Downes, John Bennet, John Haughton, and all the other Methodists preached, till James Wheatley [For the trouble with James Wheatley, see letter of June 25.] came among them, who never was clear, perhaps not sound, in the faith. According to his understanding was his preaching -- an unconnected rhapsody of unmeaning words like Sir John Suckling’s

Verses, smooth and soft as cream,

In which was neither depth nor stream.

Yet (to the utter reproach of the Methodist congregations) this man became a most popular preacher. He was admired more and more wherever he went, till he went over the second time into Ireland and conversed more intimately than before with some of the Moravian preachers.

The consequence was that he leaned more and more both to their doctrine and manner of preaching. At first several of our preachers complained of this; but in the space of a few months (so incredible is the force of soft words) he by slow and imperceptible degrees brought almost all the preachers then in the kingdom to think and speak like himself.

These, returning to England, spread the contagion to some others of their brethren. But still the far greater part of the Methodist preaches thought and spoke as they had done from the beginning.

This is the plain fact. As to the fruit of this new manner of preaching (entirely new to the Methodists), speaking much of the promises, little of the commands (even to unbelievers, and still less to believers), you think it has done great good; I think it has done great harm.

I think it has done great harm to the preaches; not only to James Wheatley himself, but to those who have learned of him -- David Trathen, [See Tyerman’s Wesley, ii. 127, where it is ‘Tratham.’] Thomas Webb, Robert Swindells, and John Madden. I fear to others also; all of whom are but shadows of what they were: most of them have exalted them­selves above measure, as if they only ‘preached Christ, preached the gospel.’ And as highly as they have exalted themselves, so deeply have they despised their brethren; calling them ‘legal preachers, legal wretches’; and (by a cant name) ‘Doctors’ or ‘Doctors of Divinity.’ They have not a little despised their ministers also for ‘countenancing the Doctors,’ as they termed them. They have made their faults (real or supposed) common topics of conversation: hereby cherishing in themselves the very spirit of Ham; yea, of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram. [See letter of Aug. 21.]

I think it has likewise done great harm to their hearers, diffusing among them their own prejudice against the other preachers; against their ministers, me in particular (of which you have been an undeniable instance); against the scriptural Methodist manner of preaching Christ, so that they could no longer bear sound doctrine -- they could no longer hear the plain old truth with profit or pleasure, nay hardly with patience.

After hearing such preachers for a time, you yourself (need we father witnesses?) could find in my preaching ‘no food for your soul,’ nothing to ‘strengthen you in the way,’ no ‘inward experience of a believer’; ‘it was all barren and dry’: that is, you had no taste for mine or John Nelson’s preaching; it nether refreshed nor nourished you.

Why, this is the very thing I assert: that the ‘gospel preachers’ so called corrupt their hearers; they vitiate their taste, so that they cannot relish sound doctrine; and spoil their appetite, so that they cannot turn it into nourishment; they, as it were, feed them with sweetmeats, till the genuine wine of the kingdom seems quite insipid to them. They give them cordial upon cordial, which make them all life and spirit for the present; but meantime their appetite is destroyed, so that they can neither retain nor digest the pure milk of the Word.

Hence it is that (according to the constant observation I have made in all parts both of England and Ireland) preachers of this kind (though quite the contrary appears at firs) spread death, not life, among their hearers. As soon as that flow of spirits goes off, they are without life, without power, without any strength or rigor of soul; and it is extremely difficult to recover them, because they still cry out, ‘Cordials, cordials!’ of which they have had too much already, and have no taste for the food which is convenient for them. Nay, they have an utter aversion to it, and that confirmed by principle, having been taught to call it husks, if not poison. How much more to those bitters which are previously needful to restore their decayed appetite!

This was the very case when I went last into the North. For some time before my coming John Downes had scarce been able to preach at all: the three others in the Round were such as styled themselves ‘gospel preachers.’ When I came to review the Societies, with great expectation of finding a vast increase, I found most of them lessened by one third; one entirely broken up; that of Newcastle itself was less by an hundred members than when I visited it before; and of those that remained, the far greater number in every place were cold, weary, heartless and dead. Such were the blessed effects of this gospel-preaching, of this new method of preaching Christ!

On the other hand, when in my return I took an account of the Societies in Yorkshire, chiefly under the care of John Nelson, one of the old way, in whose preaching you could find no life, no food, I found them all alive, strong and vigorous of soul, believing loving, and praising God their Savior, and increased in number from eighteen or nineteen hundred to upwards of three thousand. [Wesley says on May 17 of this year: ‘I preached in the new house at Birstall, already too small for even a weekday’s congregation’ (Journal, iii. 526).] These had been continually fed with that wholesome food which you could nether relish nor digest. From the beginning they had been taught both the law and the gospel. ‘God loves you: therefore love and obey Him. Christ died for you: therefore die to sin. Christ has risen: themfore rise in the image of God. Christ liveth evermore: therefore live to God, till you live with Him in glory.’

So we preached; and so you believed. This is the scriptural way, the Methodist way, the true way. God grant we may never turn therefrom, to the right hand or to the left. -- I am, my dear friend

Your ever affectionate brother.

To John Downes [17]

LONDON, December 28, 1751.

MY DEAR BROTHER, -- Your letter is the picture of your heart. It is honest and upright. I believe a journey to London will do you good. If you could borrow an horse to Leeds, you may take my mare from thence, which is in Brother Shent’s keeping. [] As you ride slow, and not many miles a day, I suppose she would bring you hither very well; and when you are here, we can easily find means to supply your other wants.

I think it is ill husbandry for you to work with your hands in order to get money, because you may be better employed. But if you will work, come and superintend my printing. I will give you forty pounds for the first year, and it will cost me nothing so to do. Afterwards, if need be, I will increase your salary; and still you may preach as often as you can preach. However, come, whether you print, or preach, or not. Peace be with your spifit. -- I am

Your affectionate friend and brother.

To Dr. Lavington, Bishop Of Exeter [18]

LONDON, December 1751.

SIR, -- 1. You have undertaken to prove (as I observed in my former letter, a few sentences of which I beg leave to repeat) that the ‘whole conduct of the Methodists is but a counterpart of the most wild fanaticisms of Popery’ (Preface to the First Part, p. 3).

You endeavor to support this charge by quotations from our own writings, compared with quotations from Popish authors.

It lies upon me to answer for one. But in order to spare both you and myself, I shall at present consider only your Second Part, and that as briefly as possible. Accordingly I shall not meddle with your other quotations, but (leaving them to whom they may concern) shall examine whether those you have made from my writings prove the charge for which they were made or no.

If they do, I submit. But if they do not, if they are ‘the words of truth and soberness,’ it is an objection of no real weight against any sentiment, just in itself, though it should also be found in the writings of Papists -- yea, of Mahometans or Pagans.

2. In your first section, in order to prove the ‘vain boasting of the Methodists,’ you quote a part of the following sentence: ‘When hath religion, I will not say since the Reformation, but since the time of Constantine the Great, made so large a progress in any nation within so short a space?’ (I beg any impartial person to read the whole passage, from the eighty-fourth to the ninetieth page of the third Appeal. [A Farther Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion, Part III. See Works, viii. 205-9.]) I repeat the question, giving the glory to God; and, I trust, without either boasting or enthusiasm.

In your second you cite (and murder) four or five lines from one of my Journals 'as instances of the persuasive eloquence of the Methodist preachers' (pages 1, 9). But it unfortunately happens that neither of the sentences you quote were spoke by any preacher at all. You know full well the one was used only in a private letter, the other by a woman on a bed of sickness.

3. You next undertake to prove 'the most insufferable pride and vanity of the Methodists’ (sect. iii. p. 12, &c.). For this end you quote five passages from my Journals and one from the third Appeal.

The first was wrote in the anguish of my heart, to which I gave vent (between God and my own soul) by breaking out, not into ‘confidence or boasting,’ as you term it, but into those expressions of bitter sorrow, ‘I went to America to convert the Indians; but oh, who shall convert me?’ (Journal, i. 418). Some of the words which follow you have picked out, and very honestly laid before your reader, without either the beginning or end, or one word of the occasion or manner wherein they were spoken.

Your next quotation is equally fair and generous: ‘Are they read in philosophy? So was I, &c.’ (i. 422, &c.). This whole ‘string of self-commendation,’ as you call it, being there brought, ex professo, to prove that, notwithstanding all this, which I once piqued myself upon, I was at that hour in a state of damnation!

The third is a plain narrative of the manner wherein many of Bristol expressed their joy on my coming unexpectedly into the room after I had been some time at London (ii. 457). And this, I conceive, will prove the charge of high treason as well as that of ‘insufferable pride and vanity.’

You say, fourthly: ‘A dying woman, who had earnestly desired to see me, cried out as I entered the room, “Art thou come, thou blessed of the Lord?”’ (ii. 483). She did so. And what does this prove?

The fifth passage is this: ‘In applying which, my soul was so enlarged, that methought I could have cried out (in another sense than poor, vain Archimedes), “Give me where to stand, and I will shake the earth.”’ [See letters of June 11, 1747, sect. 20 (to Bishop Gibson), and Nov. 26, 1762.] My meaning is, I found such freedom of thought and speech (jargon, stuff, enthusiasm to you) that me-thought, could I have then spoken to all the world, they would all have shared in the blessing.

4. The passage which you quote from the third Appeal I am obliged to relate more at large: ‘There is one more excuse for denying this work of God, taken from the instruments employed there’ --that is, that they are wicked men; and a thousand stories have been handed about to prove it.

‘Yet I cannot but remind considerate men in how remarkable a manner the wisdom of God has for many years guarded against this pretence, with regard to my brother and me in particular.’ ‘This pretence -- that is, “of not employing fit instruments.”’ These words are yours, though you insert them as mine. The pre-fence I mentioned was ‘that they were wicked men.’ And how God guarded against this is shown in what follows: ‘From that time both my brother and I, utterly against our will, came to be more and more observed and known; till we were more spoken of than perhaps two so inconsiderable persons ever were before in the nation. To make us more public still, as honest madmen at least, by a strange concurrence of providences, overturning all our preceding resolutions, we were hurried away to America.’

Afterward it follows: ‘What persons could in the nature of things have been (antecedently) less liable to exception, with regard to their moral character at least, than those the all-wise God hath now employed? Indeed, I cannot devise what manner of men could have been more unexceptionable on all accounts. Had God endued us with greater natural or acquired abilities, this very thing might have been turned into an objection. Had we been remarkably defective, it would have been matter of objection on the other hand. Had we been Dissenters of any kind, or even Low Church-men (so called), it would have been a great stumbling-block in the way of those who are zealous for the Church. And yet, had we continued in the impetuosity of our High Church zeal, neither should we have been willing to converse with Dissenters, nor they to receive any good at our hands.’ [Works, viii; 226-7.] Sir, why did you break off your quotation in the middle of this paragraph, just at ‘more unexceptionable on all accounts’? Was it not on purpose to give a wrong turn to the whole, to conceal the real and obvious meaning of my words, and put one upon them that never entered into my thoughts?

5. You have reserved your strong reason for the last--namely, my own confession: 'Mr. Wesley says himself, “By the most infallible of proofs, inward feeling, I am convinced of pride, &c.” ‘Sir, be pleased to decipher that’ &c. ‘Or I will spare you the pains, and do it myself, by reciting the whole sentence [See letter of Oct. 30, 1738, to his brother Samuel.]:

‘By the most infallible of proofs, inward feeling, I am convinced (1) Of unbelief; having no such faith in Christ as will prevent my heart from being troubled, which it could not be, if I believed in God, and rightly believed also in Him; (2) of pride throughout my life past, inasmuch as I thought I had what I find I have not.’ (Journal, i. 415.)

Now, sir, you have my whole confession. I entreat you to make the best of it.

But I myself ‘acknowledge three Methodists to have fallen into pride.’ Sir, I can tell you of three more. And yet it will not follow that the doctrines I teach ‘lead men into horrid pride and blasphemy.’

6. In the close of your fourth section you charge me with ‘shuffling and prevaricating with regard to extraordinary gifts and miraculous powers.’ Of these I shall have occasion to speak by-and-by. At present I need only return the compliment by charging you with gross, willful prevarication from the beginning of your book to the end. Some instances of this have appeared already. Many more will appear in due time.

7. Your fifth charges me with an ‘affectation of prophesying.’ Your first proof of it is this:

‘It was about this time that the soldier was executed. For some time I had visited him every day. But when the love of God was shed abroad in his heart, I told him, “Do not expect to see me any more: I believe Satan will separate us for a season.” Accord­ingly the next day I was informed the commanding officer had given strict orders that neither Mr. Wesley nor any of his people should be admitted’ (ii. 339-40.) I did believe so, having seen many such things before; yet without affecting a spirit of prophecy.

But that I do claim it, you will prove, secondly, from my men­tioning ‘the great work which God intends, and is now beginning, to work over all the earth.’ By what art you extract such a conclusion out of such premises I know not. That God intends this none who believe the Scripture doubt. And that He has begun it, both in Europe and America, any who will make use of their eyes and ears may know without any ‘miraculous gift of prophesying.’

8. In your sixth section you assert that I lay claim to other miraculous gifts (page 45). As you borrow this objection from Mr. Church, I need only give the same answer I gave before.

‘I shall give,’ says Mr. Church, ‘but one account more, and that is what you give of yourself.’ The sum whereof is, ‘At two several times, being ill and in violent pain, I prayed to God, and found immediate ease.’ I did so. I assert the fact still. ‘But if these,’ you say, ‘are not miraculous cures, all this is rank enthusiasm.

‘I will put your argument in form:

‘He that believes those are miraculous cures which are not is a rank enthusiast:

‘But you believe those to be miraculous cures which are not:

‘Therefore you are a rank enthusiast.

‘Before I answer, I must know what you mean by miraculous: if you term everything so which is “not strictly accountable for by the ordinary course of natural causes,” then I deny the latter part of the second proposition. And unless you can make this good, unless you can prove the effects in question are strictly accountable for by the ordinary course of natural causes, your argument is nothing worth.’ [See letter of Feb. 2, 1745, sect. III. 12.]

Having largely answered your next objection relating to what I still term ‘a signal instance of God’s particular providence,’ I need only refer you to those answers, not having leisure to say the same thing ten times over.

Whether I sometimes claim and sometimes disclaim miracles will be considered by-and-by.

9. In your seventh section you say, ‘I shall now give some account of their grievous conflicts and combats with Satan’ (page 53, &c.). O sir, spare yourself, if not the Methodists! Do not go so far out of your depth. This is a subject you are as utterly unacquainted with as with justification or the new birth.

But I attend your motions. ‘Mr. Wesley,’ you say, ‘was advised to a very high degree of silence. And he spoke to none at all for two days, and traveling fourscore miles together.

‘The same whim,’ you go on, ‘has run through several of the Religious Orders. Hence St. Bonaventura says that silence in all the religious is necessary to perfection. St. Agatho held a stone in his mouth for three years, till he had learned taciturnity. St. Alcantara carried several pebbles in his mouth for three years like­wise, and for the same reason. Theon observed a continual silence for thirty years. St. Francis observed it himself, and enjoined it upon his brethren. The rule of silence was religiously observed by St. Dominic.’

I have repeated more of your words than I otherwise should in order to show to a demonstration that a man of a lively imagina­tion may run a parallel to any length without any foundation in nature.

You begin, ‘The same whim which led Mr. Wesley to observe an absolute silence for two days’; and so run on to St. Bonaventura, St. Agatho, and I know not whom. But did Mr. Wesley ‘observe an absolute silence for two days’? No, not for one hour. My words, ‘I spoke to none at all for fourscore miles together’ (ii. 462) imply neither more nor less than that I spoke to none ‘concerning the things of God,’ as it is in the words immediately pre­ceding. And you know this as well as I. But it is all one for that. Wit, not truth, is the point you aim at.

My supposed inconsistency with regard to the Moravians, which you likewise drag in (as they say) by head and shoulders, I have shown again and again to be no inconsistency at all, par­ticularly in both the letters to Mr. Church.

10. Well, but as to conflicts with Satan. ‘Nor can Mr. Wesley,’ you say, ‘escape the attacks of this infernal spirit’ -- namely, ‘suggesting distrustful thoughts, and buffeting him with inward temptations.’ Sir, did you never hear of any one so attacked, unless among the Papists or Methodists? How deeply, then, are you experienced both in the ways of God and the devices of Satan!

You add, with regard to a case mentioned in the Fourth Journal (vol. ii. p. 346), ‘Though I am not convinced that these fits of laughing are to be ascribed to Satan, yet I entirely agree that they are involuntary and unavoidable.’ I am glad we agree so far. But I must still go farther: I cannot but ascribe them to a pre­ternatural agent, having observed so many circumstances attending them which cannot be accounted for by any natural causes.

Under the head of conflicts with Satan you observe farther: ‘Mr. Wesley says while he was preaching the devil knew his kingdom shook, and therefore stirred up his servants to make a noise; that, September 18, the prince of the air made another attempt in defense of his tottering kingdom; and that another time the devil's children fought valiantly for their master.’ I own the whole charge; I did say all this. Nay, and if need were, I should say it again.

You cite one more instance from my Fourth Journal: ‘The many-headed beast began to roar again.’ So your head is so full of the subject, that you construe even poor Horace's bellua multorum capitum [Epistles, I. i. 76: ‘A many-headed beast.’] into the devil!

These are all the combats and conflicts with Satan which you can prove I ever had. O sir, without more and greater conflicts than these, none shall see the kingdom of God.

II. In the following sections you are equally out of your element.

The first of them relates to ‘spiritual desertions’ (sect. viii. p. 75, &c.); all which you make the subject of dull ridicule, and place to the account of enthusiasm. And the case of all you give in the following words: ‘We may look upon enthusiasm as a kind of drunkenness, filling and intoxicating the brain with the heated fumes of spirituous particles. Now, no sooner does the inebriation go off, but a coldness and dullness takes place.’

12. As wildly do you talk of the doubts and fears incident to those who are ‘weak in faith’ (sect. ix. p. 79, &c.). I cannot pre­vail upon myself to prostitute this awful subject by entering into any debate concerning it with one who is innocent of the whole affair. Only I must observe that a great part of what you advance concerning me is entirely wide of the question. Such is all you quote from the First and a considerable part of what you quote from my Second Journal. This you know in your own conscience; for you know I speak of myself during the whole time as having no faith at all. Consequently the ‘risings and fallings’ I experienced then have nothing to do with those ‘doubts and fears which many go through after they have by faith received remission of sins.’

The next words which you cite, ‘thrown into great perplexities,’ I cannot find in the page you refer to; neither those that follow. The sum of them is that ‘at that time I did not feel the love of God, but found deadness and wanderings in public prayer, and coldness even at the Holy Communion.’ Well, sir, and have you never found in yourself any such coldness, deadness, and wander­ings? I am persuaded you have. And yet surely your brain is always cool and temperate! never ‘intoxicated with the heated fumes of spirituous particles’!

13. If you quote not incoherent scraps (by which you may make anything out of anything), but entire connected sentences, it will appear that the rest of your quotations make no more for your purpose than the foregoing. Thus -- although I allow that on May 24 ‘I was much buffeted with temptations; but I cried to God, and they fled away; that they returned again and again; I as often lifted up my eyes, and He sent me help from His holy place’ (Journal, i. 476-7) -- it will only prove the very observation I make myself: ‘I was fighting both under the law and under grace. But then I was sometimes, if not often, conquered; now I was always conqueror.’

That some time after, I ‘was strongly assaulted again, and after recovering peace and joy was thrown into perplexity afresh by a letter, asserting that no doubt or fear could consist with true faith, that my weak mind could not then bear to be thus sawn asunder,’ will not appear strange to any who are not utter novices in experi­mental religion. No more than that, one night the next year, ‘I had no life or spirit in me, and was much in doubt whether God would not lay me aside and send other laborers into His harvest.’

14. You add: ‘He owns his frequent relapses into sin for near twice ten years. Such is the case of a person who tells us that he carefully considered every step he took, one of intimate communication with the Deity!’ Sir, I did not tell you that; though, according to custom, you mark the words as mine. It is well for you that forging quotations is not felony.

My words are, ‘Oh what an hypocrite have I been (if this be so) for near twice ten years! But I know it is not so. I know every one under the law is even as I was ’-- namely, from the time I was twelve years old [See under sect. 40, and also letters of Feb. 9, 1750, and July ix, 1763.] till considerably above thirty.

‘And is it strange,’ you say, ‘that such an one should be desti­tute of means to resolve his scruples? should be ever at variance with himself, and find no place to fix his foot?’

Good sir, not too fast. You quite outrun the truth again. Blessed be God, this is not my case. I am not destitute of means to resolve my scruples. I have some friends and a little reason left. I am not ever at variance with myself, and have found a place to fix my foot:

Now I have found the ground wherein

Firm my soul's anchor may remain--

The wounds of Jesus, for my sin

Before the world's foundation slain.

And yet one of your assertions I cannot deny -- namely, that you 'could run the parallel between me and numbers of fanatical Papists '; and that not only with regard to my temper, but my stature, complexion, yea (if need were) the very color of my hair.

15. In your next section you are to give an account of the ‘spiritual succors and advantages received either during these trims, or very soon after’ (sect. x. p. 92, &c.). It is no wonder you make as lame work with these as with the conflicts which preceded them. ‘As the heart knoweth its own bitterness, so a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy.' But it is no business of mine, as you have not done me the honor to cite any of my words in this section.

16. ‘The unsteadiness of the Methodists both in sentiments and practice’ (sect. xi. p. 95, &c.) is what you next undertake to prove.

Your loose declamation with which you open the cause I pass over, as it rests on your own bare word; and haste to your main reason, drawn from my sentiments and practice with regard to the Moravians.

‘He represents them,’ you say, ‘in the blackest colors; yet declares in the main they are some of the best people in the world. His love and esteem for them increases more and more. His own disciples among the Methodists go over to them in crowds. But still Methodism is the strongest barrier against the Moravian doctrines and principles.’

Sir, I bear you witness you have learned one principle at least from those with whom you have lately conversed -- namely, that no faith is to be kept with heretics; of which you have given us abundant proof. For you know I have fully answered every article of this charge, which you repeat as if I had not opened my lips about it. You know that there is not one grain of truth in several things which you here positively assert. For instance: ‘His love and esteem of them increases more and more.’ Not so; no more than my love and esteem for you. I love you both; but I do not much esteem either. Again: ‘His own disciples among the Methodists go over to them in crowds.’ When? Where? I know not that ten of my disciples, as you call them, have gone over to them for twice ten months. O sir, consider! How do you know but some of your disciples may tell your name?

17. With the same veracity you go on: ‘In the Character of a Methodist those of the sect are described as having all the virtues that can adorn the Christian profession. But in their Journals you find them waspish, condemning all the world except themselves; and among themselves perpetual broils and confusions, with various other irregularities and vices.’

I answer: (1) The tract you refer to (as is expressly declared in the Preface) does not describe what the Methodists are already; but what they desire to be, and what they will be then when they fully practice the doctrine they hear. (2) Be pleased to point the pages in my Journals which mention those ‘various irregularities and vices.’ Of their ‘perpetual broils and confusions’ I shall speak under their proper head.

You add: ‘Sometimes they are so far from fearing death that they wish it. But the keenness of the edge is soon blunted. They are full of dreadful apprehensions that the clergy intend to murder them.’ Do, you mean me, sir? I plead, Not guilty. I never had any such apprehension. Yet I suppose you designed the compliment for me by your dragging in two or three broken sentences from my First Journal. But how little to the purpose, seeing at the time that was written I had never pretended to be above the fear of death. So that this is no proof of the point in view -- of the ‘unsteadiness of my sentiments or practice.’

18. You proceed: ‘One day they fancy it their duty to preach; the next they preach with great reluctance.’ Very true! But they fancy it their duty still, else they would not preach at all. This, therefore, does not prove any inequality either of sentiment or practice.

‘Mr. Wesley is sometimes quite averse from speaking, and then perplexed with the doubt, Is it a prohibition from the good Spirit, or a temptation from nature or the evil one?’

Just of a piece with the rest. The sentence runs thus: ‘I went several times with a design to speak to the sailors, but could not. I mean, I was quite averse from speaking. Is not this what men commonly mean by “I could not speak”? And is this a sufficient cause of silence or no? Is it a prohibition from the good Spirit, or a temptation from nature or the evil one?’ Sir, I was in no doubt at all on the occasion. Nor did I intend to express any in these words; but to appeal to men’s conscience whether what they call ‘a prohibition from the good Spirit’ be not a mere ‘temptation from nature or the evil one.’

19. In the next section you are to show ‘the art, cunning, and sophistry of the Methodists, who, when hard pressed by argument, run themselves into inconsistency and self-contradiction, and occasionally either defend or give up some of their favorite notions and principal points’ (sect. xii. p. 102).

I dare say, sir, you will not put them to the trial. Argument lies out of the way of one

solufos

Qui captat risus hominum, farnamque dicacis. [Horace's Satires, I. iv. 82-3: ‘One that affects the droll, and loves to raise a home-laugh.’]

But to the proof. ‘Mr. Wesley,’ you say, ‘at one time declares for a disinterested love of God; at another declares there is no one caution in all the Bible against the selfish love of God.’

Nay, sir; I will tell you what is stranger still: Mr. Wesley holds at one time both sides of this contradiction. I now declare both that ‘all true love is disinterested, “seeketh not her own,” and that there is no one caution in all the Bible against the selfish love of God.’

What, have I the art to slip out of your hands again? ‘Pardon me,’ as your old friend says, ‘for being jocular.’

20. You add, altius insurgens [Virgil's Aeneid, xi. 697: ‘Rising to more exalted strains.’]: ‘But it is a considerable offence to charge another wrongfully and contradict himself about the doctrine of Assurance.’ To prove this upon me you bring my own words: ‘The assurance we preach is of quite another kind from that Mr. Bedford writes against. We speak of an assurance of our present pardon; not, as he does, of our final perseverance.’ (Journal, ii. 83.)

‘Mr. Wesley might have considered,’ you say, ‘that, when they talk of “assurance of pardon and salvation,” the world will extend the meaning of the words to our eternal state.’ I do consider it, sir; and therefore I never use that phrase either in preaching or writing. ‘Assurance of pardon and salvation’ is an expression that never comes out of my lips; and if Mr. Whitefield does use it, yet he does not preach such an assurance as the privilege of all Christians.

‘But Mr. Wesley himself says, that “though a full assurance of faith does not necessarily imply a full assurance of our future perseverance, yet some have both the one and the other.” And now what becomes of his charge against Mr. Bedford? And is it not mere evasion to say afterwards, “This is not properly an assurance of what is future”?’

Sir, this argument presses me very hard! May I not be allowed a little evasion now? Come, for once I will try to do without it, and to answer flat and plain.

And I answer: (1) That faith is one thing, the full assurance of faith another. (2) That even the full assurance of faith does not imply the full assurance of perseverance: this bears another name, being styled by St. Paul ‘the full assurance of hope.’ (3) Some Christians have only the first of these; they have faith, but mixed with doubts and fears. Some have also the full assurance of faith, a full conviction of present pardon; and yet not the full assurance of hope, not a full conviction of their future perseverance. (4) The faith which we preach as necessary to all Christians is the first of these, and no other. Therefore (5) It is no evasion at all to say, ‘This (the faith which we preach as necessary to all Christians) is not properly an assurance of what is future.’ And consequently my charge against Mr. Bedford stands good--that his sermon on Assurance is an ignoratio elenchi, an ‘ignorance of the point in question,’ from beginning to end. [See letter of Sept. 28, 1738.] Therefore neither do I ‘charge another wrongfully, nor contradict myself about the doctrine of Assurances.’

21. To prove my art, cunning, and evasion, you instance next in the case of impulses and impressions. You begin: ‘With what pertinacious confidence have impulses, impressions, feelings, &c., been advanced into certain rules of conduct! Their followers have been taught to depend upon them as sure guides and infallible proofs.’

To support this weighty charge, you bring one single scrap, about a line and a quarter, from one of my Journals. The words are these: ‘By the most infallible of proofs, inward feeling, I am convinced.’ Convinced of what? It immediately follows: ‘Of unbelief, having no such faith as will prevent my heart from being troubled.’

I here assert that inward feeling or consciousness is the most infallible of proofs of unbelief -- of the want of such a faith as will prevent the heart’s being troubled. But do I here ‘advance impressions, impulses, feelings, &c., into certain rules of conduct’? or anywhere else? You may just as well say I advance them into certain proofs of transubstantiation.

Neither in writing, in preaching, nor in private conversation have I ever ‘taught any of my followers to depend upon them as sure guides or infallible proofs’ of anything.

Nay, you yourself own I have taught quite the reverse, and that at my very first setting out. Then, as well as ever since, I have told the Societies ‘they were not to judge by their own inward feelings. I warned them all these were in themselves of a doubtful, disputable nature. They might be from God or they might not, and were therefore to be tried by a farther rule, to be brought to the only certain test -- the law and the testimony’ (ii. 226).

This is what I have taught from first to last. And now, sir, what becomes of your heavy charge? On which side lies the ‘pertinacious confidence’ now? How clearly have you made out my inconsistency and self-contradiction! and that I ‘occasionally either defend or give up my favorite notions and principal points’!

22. ‘Inspiration and the extraordinary calls and guidances of the Holy Ghost are’ what you next affirm to be ‘given up’ (sect. xiii. p. 106, &c.). Not by me. I do not ‘give up’ one title on this head which I ever maintained. But observe: before you attempt to prove my ‘giving them up,’ you are to prove that I laid claim to them, that I laid claim to some extraordinary inspira­tion, call, or guidance of the Holy Ghost.

You say my ‘concessions on this head’ (to Mr. Church) ‘are ambiguous and evasive.’ Sir, you mistake the fact. I make no concessions at all either to him or you. I give up nothing that ever I advanced on this head; but when Mr. Church charged me with what I did not advance, I replied, ‘I claim no other direction of God's but what is common to all believers. I pretend to be no otherwise inspired than you are, if you love God.’ Where is the ambiguity or evasion in this? I mean it for a flat denial of the charge.

23. Your next section, spirat iragleam sails, [Horace's Epistles, II. i. 166: ‘It breathes the spirit of the tragic scene.’] charges the Methodists ‘with skepticism and infidelity, with doubts and denials of the truth of Revelation, and Atheism itself’ (sect. xiv. p. 110, &c.). The passages brought from my Journals to prove this charge, which you have prudently transposed, I beg leave to consider in the same order as they stand there.

The first you preface thus: 'Upon the people's ill usage (or supposed ill usage) of Mr. Wesley in Georgia, and their speaking of all manner of evil falsely (as he says) against him, and trampling under-foot the word after having been very attentive to it, what an emotion in him is hereby raised I “I do hereby bear witness against myself that I could scarce refrain from giving the lie to experience and reason and Scripture all together.”’

The passage as I wrote it stands thus: 'Sunday, March 7. I entered upon my ministry at Savannah. In the Second Lesson (Luke xviii.) was our Lord's prediction of the treatment which He Himself, and consequently His followers, were to meet with from the world....

‘Yet, notwithstanding these plain declarations of our Lord, notwithstanding my own repeated experience, notwithstanding the experience of all the sincere followers of Christ whom I ever talked with, read, or heard of -- nay, and the reason of the thing evincing to a demonstration that all who love not the light must hate him who is continually laboring to pour it in upon them -- I do here bear witness against myself that when I saw the number of people crowding into the church, the deep attention with which they received the word, and the seriousness that afterwards sat on all their faces, I could scarce refrain from giving the lie to experience and reason and Scripture all together. I could hardly believe that the greater, the far greater part of this attentive, serious people would hereafter trample under-foot that word, and say all manner of evil falsely of him that spoke it.’ (i. 176-9.)

Sir, does this prove me guilty of skepticism or infidelity, of doubting or denying the truth of Revelation? Did I speak this ‘upon the people using me ill and saying all manner of evil against me’? Or am I here describing ‘any emotion raised in me hereby’? Blush, blush, sir, if you can blush. You had here no possible room for mistake. You grossly and willfully falsify the whole passage to support a groundless, shameless accusation.

24. The second passage (written January 24, 1738) is this: ‘In a storm I think, What if the gospel be not true? Then thou art of all men most foolish. For what hast thou given thy goods, thy ease, thy friends, thy reputation, thy country, thy life? For what art thou wandering over the face of the earth? -- A dream, a cunningly-devised fable.’ (i. 418.)

I am here describing the thoughts which passed through my mind when I was confessedly an unbeliever. But even this implies no skepticism, much less Atheism, no ‘denial of the truth of Revela­tion,’ but barely such transient doubts as, I presume, may assault any thinking man that knows not God.

The third passage (which you tack to the former as if they were one and the same) runs thus: ‘I have not such a peace as excludes the possibility either of doubt or fear. When holy men have told me I had no faith, I have often doubted whether I had or no. And those doubts have made me very uneasy, till I was relieved by prayer and the Holy Scriptures.’ (if. 91.)

Speak frankly, sir: does this prove me guilty of skepticism, infidelity, or Atheism? What else does it prove? Just nothing at all, but the ‘pertinacious confidence’ of him that cites it.

25. You recite more at large one passage more. The whole paragraph stands thus:

‘St. Paul tells us the “fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, meekness, temperance.” Now, although by the grace of God in Christ I find a measure of some of these in myself--namely, of peace, longsuffering, gentleness, meekness, temperance; yet others I find not. I cannot find in myself the love of God or of Christ. Hence my deadness and wanderings in public prayer. Hence it is that even in the Holy Communion I have rarely any more than a cold attention. Hence, when I hear of the highest instance of God's love, my heart is still senseless and un­affected. Yea, at this moment (October 14, 1738) I feel no more love to Him than one I had never heard of.’ [See letters of Nov. 22, 1758 (to Isaac Lelong), and June 27, 1766.] (ii. 91.)

To any who knew something of inward religion I should have observed that this is what serious divines mean by desertion. But all expressions of this kind are jargon to you. So, allowing it to be whatever you please, I ask only, Do you know how long I continued in this state? how many years, months, weeks, or days? If not, how can you infer what my state of mind is now from what it was above eleven years ago?

Sir, I do not tell you or any man else that ‘I cannot now find the love of God in myself’; or that now, in the year 1751, I rarely feel more than a cold attention in the Holy Communion: so that your whole argument built on this supposition falls to the ground at once.

26. Sensible, I presume, of the weakness of this reason, you immediately apply to the passions by that artful remark: ‘Observe, reader, this is the man who charges our religion as no better than the Turkish pilgrimages to Mecca or the Popish worship of Our Lady of Loretto!’ Our religion! How naturally will the reader suppose that I fix the charge either on the Protestant religion in general, or on that of the Church of England in particular! But how far is this from the truth!

My words concerning those who are commonly called religious are: ‘Wherein does their religion consist? in righteousness and true holiness, in love stronger than death, fervent gratitude to God, and tender affection to all His creatures? Is their religion the religion of the heart, a renewal of the soul in the image of God? Do they resemble Him they worship? Are they free from pride, from vanity, from malice, from envy, from ambition and avarice, from passion and lust, from every uneasy and unlovely temper? Alas, I fear neither they (the greater part at least) nor you have any more notion of this religion than the peasant that holds the plough of the religion of a Gymnosophist. [Ancient Hindu philosophers and ascetics who discarded all clothing.]

‘It is well if the genuine religion of Christ has any more alliance with what you call religion than with the Turkish pilgrimages to Mecca or the Popish worship of Our Lady of Loretto. Have not you substituted in the place of the religion of the heart something, I do not say equally sinful, but equally vain and foreign to the worshipping of God in spirit and in truth? What else can be said even of prayer, public or private, in the manner wherein you gene­rally perform it? as a thing of course, running round and round, in the same dull track, without either the knowledge or the love of God, without one heavenly temper, either attained or improved? ' [Works, viii. 202.]

Now, sir, what room is there for your own exclamations? – ‘What sort of heavenly temper is his? How can he possibly, consistently with charity, call this our general performance?’ Sir, I do not. I only appeal to the conscience of you and each particular reader whether this is or is not the manner wherein you (in the singular number) generally perform public or private prayer. ‘How possibly, without being omniscient, can he affirm that we (I presume you mean all the members of our Church) pray without one heavenly temper? or know anything at all of our private devotions? How monstrous is all this!’ Re­collect yourself, sir. If your terror is real, you are more afraid than hurt. I do not affirm any such thing. I do not take upon me to know anything at all of your private devotions. But I suppose I may inquire without offence, and beg you seriously to examine yourself before God.

So you have brought no one proof that ‘skepticism, infidelity, and Atheism are either constituent parts or genuine consequences of Methodism.’ Therefore your florid declamation in the following pages is entirely out of its place. And you might have spared your­self the trouble of accounting for what has no being but in your own imagination.

27. You charge the Methodists next with ‘an uncharitable spirit’ (sect. xv. p. I15, &c.). All you advance in proof of this, as if it were from my writings, but without naming either page or book, I have nothing to do with. But whatever you tell me where to find I shall carefully consider.

I observe but one single passage of this sort, and that you have worn threadbare already: ‘By the most infallible of proofs, inward feeling, I am convinced of levity and luxuriancy of spirit, by speaking words not tending to edify; but most by my manner of speaking of my enemies.’ Sir, you may print this, not only in italics, but in capitals, and yet it would do you no service. For what I was convinced of then was not uncharitableness, but, as I expressly mentioned, ‘levity of spirit.’

28. Of the same ‘uncharitable nature,’ you say, is 'their application of divine judgments to their opposers’ (sect. xvi. p. 119, &c.). You borrow two instances from Mr. Church; but you omit the answers, which I shall therefore subjoin.

His words are, ‘You describe Heaven as executing judgments, immediate punishments, on those who oppose you. You say, “Mr. Molther was taken ill this day. I believe it was the hand of God that was upon him.”’ [See letter of Feb. 2, 1745, sect. III. 9.] I do; but I do not say as a judg­ment for opposing me. That you say for me.

‘Again, you mention,’ says Mr. Church, ‘as an awful providence the case of “a poor wretch who was last week cursing and blaspheming, and had boasted to many that he would come on Sunday, and no man should stop his mouth; but on Friday God laid His hand upon him, and on Sunday he was buried.” I do look on this as a manifest judgment of God on an hardened sinner for his complicated wickedness.’

To repeat these objections without taking the least notice of the answers is one of the usual proofs of your charitable spirit.

29. You pass on to ‘the Methodists’ uncharitable custom of summoning their opponents to the bar of judgment’ (sect. xvii. p. 123, &c.).

You bring two passages from my writings to prove this. The first is: ‘Calling at Newgate, in Bristol, I was informed that the poor wretches under sentence of death were earnestly desirous to speak with me; but that Alderman Beecher had sent an express order that they should not. I cite Alderman Beecher to answer for these souls at the judgment-seat of Christ.’

Why do you leave out those words ‘for these souls’? Because they show the sentence means neither more nor less than, ‘If these souls perish, he, not I, must answer for them at the Great Day.’

The second passage is still more wide from the point. The whole of it is as follows:

‘I have often inquired who were the authors of this report (that I was a Papist), and have generally found they were either bigoted Dissenters, or (I speak it without fear or favor) ministers of our own Churc