THE EXTENSION OF THE WORK

WESLEY’S journey to Newcastle in 1742 forms an important stage in his itinerant life. He had been much exercised during the early successes of field-preaching at Bristol in 7739 about the unusual manner of his ministration there. After much prayer and careful weighing, of all objections, he felt that he could still adhere to the views expressed in a letter to his friend, the Rev. James Hervey, some time before, and printed in his journaL* In that letter occurs the famous phrase on the memorial tablet erected to the Wesleys in Westminster Abbey: “I look upon all the world as my parish.” The practical outcome of this principle was gradually exhibiting itself. Up to the spring of 1742 Wesley’s labours had been confined mainly to London and Bristol. At Oxford he was a frequent visitor, and many places on the road between the two Methodist centres enjoyed his ministry. Wales and various adjacent towns and villages had been visited from BristoL He had also found his way to the Moravian Societies in Nottingham and other places. The year 7742 saw the boundaries of his great circuit stretched to the extreme north of England. John Nelson, who had been converted under Wesley’s first sermon in Moorfields, afterwards returned to his home at Birstal, in Yorkshire. His labours soon changed the face of the whole town. So many came to hear him read and exhort that he had to stand at the door of his house and talk to the crowd that stood within and without. Six or seven people were converted every week, and the greatest profligates and drunkards in the county were changed. Nelson begged Wesley to come to his help. The Countess of Huntingdon was also anxious that the colliers on the Tyne should share the blessing which the colliers of Kingswood had already found.

The immediate cause of Wesley’s journey, however, was a summons from Leicestershire to visit his dying friend Miss Cowper, who lived with the Countess of Huntingdon. He had arranged to start for Bristol on the day this call reached him, but set off to the north at once. From Donnington Park he pushed on to Birstal, and sent for Nelson to his inn. Wesley now heard from the heroic stonemason the story of his fifteen months’ labour, and himself preached to the people. On May 28th he reached Newcastle. He found that he had not come too soon. In his first walk through the town he says, “I was surprised: so much drunkenness, cursing, and swearing (even from the mouths of little children), do I never remember to have seen and heard before in so small a compass of time. Surely this place is ripe for Him ‘who came not to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.” He could find no one who appeared to care for religion. At seven o’clock on the Sunday morning, he walked down to Sandgate, the poorest and most contemptible part of the town, with his travelling companion, John Taylor. Standing alone at the end of the street, they began to sing the hundredth Psalm. Three or four people came out to see what was the matter. Soon the number increased to four or five hundred, and before the service was over twelve or fifteen hundred assembled. Wesley’s text was, “He was wounded for our transgressions; He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and by His stripes we are healed.”

When the sermon was over, the people stood gaping and staring at the preacher in profound astonishment. Seeing their amazement, he said, “If you desire to know who I am, my name is John Wesley. At five in the evening, with God’s help, I design to preach here again.” At the appointed hour, the bill on which he intended to stand was covered from top to bottom. Neither at Moorfields nor at Kennington Common had he seen such an audience. Wesley knew that even his voice, strong and clear though it was, could not reach one half of this vast concourse; but he stood where he had all in view, ranged on the side of the hill. Then he explained and applied that promise, “I will heal their backsliding; I will love them freely.” Wesley had never received such a welcome as he found in the metropolis of the north. The poor people, he says, were ready to tread him under foot out of pure love and kindness. For some time he was quite unable to get out of the press. When at last he reached his inn, several people were waiting there who “vehemently importuned” him to stay at least a few days, or even one day longer. Wesley had promised to be at Birstal on Tuesday, so that he could not comply with their request. But about two months later Charles Wesley took his brother’s place. Before the year was out Wesley himself was with them again.

He set out from Newcastle after his first visit at three o’clock on the Monday morning. He was welcomed everywhere. The mistress of the inn at Boroughbridge, where he stayed for the night, begged that she and her family might join in Wesley’s evening devotions. Next morning, between four and five, she joined them again at prayers. Riding through Knaresborough, where they had no intention of stopping, a young man begged Wesley to g to his house. There he learned that some words spoken to a man as he and his companion passed through the place on their way to Newcastle had set many in a flame. A sermon they had given him had travelled from one end of the town to the other. Just then a woman begged to speak with Wesley. At her house he found five or six of her friends, one of whom had long been under deep conviction. They spent an hour together in prayer with great blessing. Such incidents were God’s call to thrust in the sickle, for the harvest was ripe.

The most interesting part of this preaching tour was Wesley’s visit to Epworth. After spending a few days in the neighbourhood of Birstal, he rode on to his native place. He does not seem to have been at Epworth since he consulted his mother about his mission to Georgia seven years before. Not knowing, as he says, whether there were any left who would not be ashamed of his acquaintance, Wesley took up his quarters at an inn in the middle of the town. Here an old servant of the Parsonage, with two or three other poor women, found him out. When he asked if she knew any in the place who were in earnest to be saved, she answered, “I am, by the grace of God; and I know I am saved through faith.” Many others, she assured him, could rejoice with her. In this happy way Wesley spent his Saturday night at Epworth. Next morning he offered to assist Mr. Romley, either by preaching or reading prayers. But the drunken curate would have none of his help. The old church was crowded in the afternoon in consequence of a rumour that Wesley would preach. Mr. Romley gave them a sermon on “Quench not the Spirit,” in which he said that enthusiasm was one of the most dangerous ways of doing this, and enlarged in a very florid and oratorical manner on the character of an enthusiast. Every one knew the application he had in view.

As the people flocked out of church they learned that they were not to be disappointed. John Taylor stood in the churchyard and gave notice, “Mr. Wesley, not being permitted to preach in the church, designs to preach here at six o’clock.” When the hour came such a congregation assembled as Epworth had never seen before. Wesley stood near the east end of the church, upon his father’s tombstone, and cried, “The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.” He was urged to visit the neighbouring villages, and though very anxious to pursue his journey, he could not resist the appeal. Through the influence of Moravian teachers in the district, many had forsaken church; others were plunged in doubt. Wesley yielded to their entreaties, and remained for seven days more. He visited the neighbouring villages, and preached every evening on his father’s tomb. During the week he went to see a justice of the peace in a neighbouring town who had shown a candour and good feeling which were rare in those days. A waggon-load of the new heretics had been carried before him by their angry neighbours. When he asked what these people had done, there was deep silence. No one seemed to have thought of such an insignificant matter. One of the accusers at last found a voice. He informed the magistrate that they pretended to be better than other people, and prayed from morning to night. “But have they done nothing beside” he inquired. “Yes, sir,” said an old man; “and please your worship, they have converted my wife. Till she went among them, she had such a tongue ! And now she is quiet as a lamb.” “Carry them back, carry them back,” replied the justice, “and let them convert all the scolds in the town.”

On the Saturday evening many in the churchyard congregation dropped down as dead. Wesley’s voice could scarcely be heard for the cries of those who were seeking rest; but their sorrow was soon changed to praise. One gentleman, who had not been at public worship for more than thirty years, stood there as motionless as a statue. His chaise was outside the churchyard; his wife and one or two servants were with him. Wesley, seeing him stand thus, asked abruptly, “Sir, are you a sinner” With a deep and broken voice, he answered, “Sinner enough.” He “continued staring upwards till his wife and a servant or two, all in tears, put him into his chaise and carried him home.” This touching scene has a happy sequel. The impression then made was never effaced. Ten years later, in April, 7752, Wesley says, “I called on the gentleman who told me he was ‘sinner enough’ when I preached first at Epworth on my father’s tomb, and was agreeably surprised to find him strong in faith, though exceeding weak in body. For some years, he told me, he had been rejoicing in God, without either doubt or fear, and was now waiting for the welcome hour when he should depart and be with Christ.’”

On the last Sunday of this visit, Wesley preached morning and evening at Wroote, where John Whitelamb, his brother—in-law, was Rector. He had been Samuel Wesley’s amanuensis whilst he was writing his book on Job, and was afterwards John Wesley’s pupil at Oxford. Mary Wesley, his wife, only lived nine or ten months after their marriage. Whitelamb had been in Wesley’s congregation on the first Sunday when he preached in Epworth churchyard. The little church at Wroote would not hold the people who came from all the district to hear their old friend and minister, who had laboured among them for two years with such acceptance. After three other services on the Sunday Wesley took his stand at six o’clock on his father’s tomb. A vast multitude had assembled from all parts. “I continued among them for near three hours; and yet we scarce knew how to part.” His reflections upon the work at Epworth have peculiar interest. “Oh, let none think his labour of love is lost because the fruit does not immediately appear. Near forty years did my father labour here; but he saw little fruit of his labour. I took some pains among this people, too; and my strength also seemed spent in vain. But now the fruit appeared. There were scarce any in the town on whom either my father or I had taken any pains formerly, but the seed sown so long since now sprang up, bringing forth repentance and remission of sins.”

Five weeks later, after visiting Sheffield and Bristol, Wesley returned to London. He found his mother on the borders of eternity. She had no doubt or fear. Her one desire was to depart and be with Christ. Wesley’s description of the work at Epworth must have filled his mother’s heart with joy. Her Rectory services had borne witness to her intense desire for the salvation of the people. Her labour also was bearing fruit. After the account of her burial, Wesley inserted in his journal the letter to her husband in which she justifies her services. She also had been, he reminds his readers, in her measure and degree, a preacher of righteousness. She died on Friday, July 23rd, three days after her son’s return. Her five daughters were with her. Charles Wesley, who was absent on one of his evangelistic tours, was the only member of her family who was not at her side. Her children, standing around her bed, fulfilled her last request, made just before she lost her speech: “Children, as soon as I am released, sing a psalm of praise to God.”

Mrs. Wesley had spent her last days at the Foundery, where she lived in her son’s apartments. She was thoroughly identified with all the early phases of the Great Revival. Samuel Wesley had ventured to offer some remonstrance because she was present at John’s open-air service at Kennington in September, 1739. Three or four weeks before that service, whilst her son-in-law, Mr. Hall, handed her the cup at the Sacrament, with the words, “The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee,” the words, she said, “struck through my heart, and I knew God, for Christ’s sake, had forgiven me all my sins.” On the Monday before she went to Kennington she told John Wesley the blessing she had found. When he asked whether her father, Dr. Annesley, had not the same faith, she replied that he had it himself, and declared shortly before his death that for more than forty years he had no darkness, no fear, no doubt at all of his being “accepted in the Beloved,” but he never preached explicitly on the subject, and Mrs. Wesley had scarcely ever heard such a thing mentioned as having forgiveness of sins now, or the witness of the Spirit. From the time of this service her heart was filled with peace. She took part in the consultation held at the Foundery before Wesley read his final protest on his withdrawal from the Fetter Lane Society. She also rendered important service when the subject of lay-preaching was exercising Wesley’s mind.

On Sunday, August 1st, 1742, she was buried in Bun hill Fields, close to the Foundery. An innumerable company of people gathered at five o’clock in the afternoon. Great was the mourning when Wesley read, “I commit the body of my dear mother to the earth.” • He afterwards spoke from the words, “I saw a great white throne, and Him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and tht heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God and the books were opened. And the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.” “It was one of the most solemn assemblies I ever saw, or expect to see on this side eternity.” The mother lived on in her sons and in the glorious work which they were doing for God and their country. Her name has become one of the household names of the world. Isaac Taylor says, with great justice,t “The Wesleys’ mother was the mother of Methodism in a religious and moral sense; for her courage, her submissiveness to authority, the high tone of her mind, its independence, and its self-control, the warmth of her devotional feelings, and the practical direction given to them, came up and were visibly repeated in the character and conduct of her sons.”

Wesley spent the three months after his mother’s death between London and Bristol. He travelled over the highroad between the two cities five times in these months. On November 8th he set out from Bristol to Newcastle. Charles Wesley had just left on his way to London, after a few weeks’ visit. The work at Newcastle was different from any that Wesley had yet seen. He says, “The grace of God flows here with a wider stream than it did at first either at Bristol or Kingswood. But it does not sink so deep as it did there. Few are thoroughly convinced of sin, and scarce any can witness that the Lamb of God has taken away their sins.” A week later he adds that he never saw a work of God so evenly and gradually carried on. It constantly increased. So much did not seem to be done at any one time as had often been accomplished in Bristol or London, but the work always made steady advance both in the Society and in individual members. Wesley spent nearly seven weeks in Newcastle, preaching constantly in the town and the outlying district. He was detained by the endeavour to find a site for a preaching-place. At last Mr. Stephenson, a merchant in Newcastle, whose descendant, an ex-mayor of the city, is one of its best-known Methodists, offered a plot of ground, forty-eight by ninety feet, for forty pounds. Next day Wesley signed an agreement. Within a week he had taken a lodging near the ground, but the intense frost made it impossible to begin the building. Wesley never felt such cold. His desk stood within a yard of the fire, yet he could not write for a quarter of an hour together without his hands being quite benumbed.

The first stone of the “house” was laid on December 20th. People flocked from all parts. Three or four times during the evening service Wesley was forced to pause in his sermon that the congregation might pray and give thanks. The cost of building was estimated at seven hundred pounds. Many asserted that it would never be finished, or that Wesley would not live to see it covered in. “I was of another mind,” he says, “nothing doubting but, as it was begun for God’s sake, He would provide what was needful for the finishing it.” Wesley’s courage will be better appreciated when it is known that he began to build with only twenty-six shillings in hand. His confidence was not disappointed. Soon afterwards a Quaker, who had heard of his scheme, sent him the following letter

“FRIEND WESLEY,—! have had a dream concerning thee. I thought I saw thee surrounded with a large flock of sheep, which thou didst not know what to do with. My first thought when I awoke was, that it was thy flock at Newcastle, and that thou hadst no house of worship for them. I have enclosed a note for one hundred pounds, which may help thee to provide a house.” *

Supplies came in from time to time, so that the work was pushed on rapidly. Wesley called it “The Orphan House,” apparently after Francke’s schools at Halle, which he had seen with great interest during his Continental journey in 1738.

Wesley preached his farewell sermon on December 30th to a vast congregation. Men, women, and children hung upon him, so that he could not disengage himself. When at last he got to the gate and took horse, one woman kept her hold, and ran by his side down to Sand-gate. Seven weeks later he returned, as the work at Newcastle needed special oversight during the building of the Orphan House. At last, on March 25th, 1743, he preached in the shell of the building on “The Rich Man and Lazarus.” A great multitude assembled and kept a watchnight there. The Orphan House stood just outside Pilgrim Street Gate. It had a blessed history. Its school, under the care of a master and mistress, provided for forty poor children. One of the first Sunday-schools in the north, with a thousand scholars, met there; it had its Bible Society before the British and Foreign Bible Society was established. In its choir, one of the best in the country, the sons of Mr. Scott, afterwards the celebrated Lord Eldon and Lord Stowell, were sometimes found. The colliers and keelmen of the district were so eager to hear the Wesleys that they would lie down on the benches after evening service and sleep till the hour for the early morning preaching. The Newcastle of Wesley’s time was very different from the city of to-day. Sir William Blackett’s mansion then stood in its extensive pleasure-grounds on what is now the centre of the place. When Wesley visited the town in June, 1759, he found it in all its summer beauty. It called forth from him the high tribute, “Certainly, if I did not believe there was another world, I should spend all my summers here, as I know no place in Great Britain comparable to it for pleasantness.” “The Newcastle of Wesley’s time,” says a recent writer, “must have been indeed one of the most beautiful spots under the canopy of heaven, with its castle and its churches and quaint groups of red-tiled, old-timbered houses, nestling amongst orchard trees, with patches of meadow and garden here and there, and all hemmed in by the encircling wall, with its gateway, towers, and its turrets, which, an old writer tells us, was the finest town-wall in Europe, and very like those of Avignon and Jerusalem in appearance.”

During the year 1742 many Methodist Societies were formed in Northumberland, Somersetshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, Leicestershire, Warwickshire, and Nottinghamshire, as well as in the southern parts of Yorkshire. Charles Wesley’s journal for this year has not been preserved, but glimpses of him may be caught in Newcastle, Bristol, and London. He was devoting himself to the labours of an itinerant’s life with an ardour and success scarcely, if at all, inferior to his brother’s. Whitefield was now working on his own lines, but the Wesleys had already gathered a band of lay-preachers around them, who were rendering inestimable service in extending and consolidating the work.

We may here refer to Wesley’s connection with his old university after his return from Georgia. He was a frequent visitor to Oxford, and some important steps of his preparation for the Great Revival were taken there.

Two pleasant glimpses of Wesley, at Lincoln College, are given in his journal. On Saturday, December 8th, 1739, he came into his old room, “from which I went to Georgia. Here, musing on the things that were past, and reflecting how many that came after me were preferred before me, I opened my New Testament on those words (oh, may I never let them slip !), ‘What shall we say, then That the Gentiles, which followed not after righteousness, have attained to righteousness. But Israel, which followed after the law of righteousness, hath not attained to the law of righteousness. Wherefore Because they sought it not by faith, but, as it were, by the works of the Law.’ “ A month later he was in his room once more, looking over the letters he had received for sixteen or eighteen years. Few traces of inward religion were found there. Only one of all his correspondents declared that the love of God was shed abroad in his heart. Wesley did not then understand his words. He adds, “He was expelled out of his Society as a madman, and, being disowned by his friends, and despised and forsaken of all men, lived obscure and unknown for a few months, and then went to Him whom his soul loved.” Wesley preached before the University in 1738 and 1741. He was bound to take his turn in the pulpit, or pay three guineas for a substitute. His last sermon was on Friday, August 24th, 1744. The races brought many strangers to Oxford, who swelled his congregation at St. Mary’s. The Vice-Chancellor, the Proctors, and most of the heads of houses were present. Charles Wesley, Mr. Piers, and Mr. Meriton had come down to support the preacher. The little band of friends walked together to and from this memorable service. “Never have I seen a more serious congregation,” Charles Wesley wrote. “They did not let a word slip them. Some of the heads stood up the whole time, and fixed their eyes on him.” The Vice-Chancellor sent the beadle for Wesley’s notes, which he sealed and forwarded to him immediately. Wesley admired the wise providence of God in this request. By this means every man of eminence in the University read his sermon. He was not allowed to preach again. But the beautiful description of Scriptural Christianity and the touching appeal to the venerable men who were more especially called to form the tender minds of youth show how unworthy and unfounded were the “false and scurrilous” accounts of it which, Wesley tells us, were published in almost every corner of the nation. Gibbon and Adam Smith both bear witness how deeply Oxford then needed reformation. Serious religious instruction or efficient tuition was almost unknown. Wesley was never more faithful, more tender, or more truly Scriptural in his teaching than in the sermon which led to his exclusion from the pulpit of his university. Dr. Conybeare, the learned Dean of Christ Church, said on the day of the sermon, “John Wesley will always be thought a man of sound sense, though an enthusiast.” * Dr. Kennicott, the Hebrew scholar, then an undergraduate at Wadham College, heard this sermon. He says Wesley’s “black hair, quite smooth, and parted very exactly, added to a peculiar composure in his countenance, showed him to be an uncommon man.” He speaks of the agreeable emphasis with which the preacher read his text. Kennicott did not like Wesley’s reflections on the University, but was greatly impressed by his sermon. “Had these things been omitted, and his censures moderated, I think his discourse as to style and delivery would have been uncommonly pleasing to others as well as to myself. He is allowed to be a man of great parts.”*

Wesley resigned his Fellowship on June 1st, 1751, wishing the Rector and Fellows “constant peace and all felicity in Christ.” From November 6th, 1739, his leave of absence had been regularly renewed every six months, till November 6th, 1750, when he asked this favour for the last time. His place was not filled till May zoth, 1754, because there was no candidate duly qualified by county. Robert Kirke, B.A., of Lincoln College, was then chosen as his successor.