HER MARRIAGE, AND REMOVAL TO MADELEY

The seventh of June, 1781, as I before observed, was the day that began my fourteenth year in Yorkshire. On that day I took a particular view of my whole situation, and saw difficulties as mountains rise all around me. Faith was hard put to it. The promise seemed to stand sure, and I thought the season was come, yet the waters were deeper than ever. I thought also, bow shall I now hold fast that word so powerfully given to me, The Almighty shall be thy defence, and thou shalt have plenty of silver

At length the cloud arose as a man’s hand. The very next day, June the eighth, I received a letter from Mr. Fletcher, in which he told me—That he had for twenty-five years found a regard for me, which was still as sincere as ever ; and though it might appear odd he should write on the subject, when but just returned from abroad, and more so without seeing me first, he could only say, that his mind was so strongly drawn to do it, he believed it to be the order of Providence.

In reading this letter I was much struck ;—so many circumstances all uniting. 1. The season it came in, 2. His writing on the subject before we had met, after an absence of fifteen years; and without his having the most distant suspicion of my mind being inclined toward it. 2. His mentioning, that for twenty-five years he had had the thought. All these particulars answered to the marks which I had laid down. His unexpected recovery, also, and safe return, so plainly pointed out the hand of Providence, that all ground of reasoning against it seemed removed. Yet, on the other hand, a strange fear possessed my mind lest I should take any step out of the order of God ;—nor was Satan wanting to represent great trials before me, which he told me I should not have strength to stand in.

We corresponded with openness and freedom, till August the first, when he came to Cross Hall, and abode there a month, preaching in different places with much power :—and having opened our whole hearts to each other, both on temporals and spirituals, we believed it to be the order of God we should become one, when he should make our way plain.

He then returned to his parish, a hundred and twelve miles from the place where I lived; for we could not think of taking the step till my affairs were more clearly settled. So we took our leave of each other, committing all into His hands who does what he will with his own.

In about five weeks he returned; but still all seemed shut up; no way opened either for disposing of the farm, or of the family. Conversing one day with Mrs. Clapham, of Leeds, she said, What do you stick at The Lord has done so much to convince you that this is to be your deliverance, how is it that you do not believe, and obey his order I verily believe if you would take the step in faith, your way would be made plain directly; and I will now tell you what has passed my mind concerning it. When I was some months since at Scarborough, as I was one day in private, praying for you, and much drawn out in laying your trials before the Lord, I was as if taken out of myself, and saw by the eye of faith both Mr. Fletcher and you, and that you were designed for each other, and that much glory to God would arise from your union. But at the same time I saw that there were various obstacles in the way ;—but the chief was the want of money. It seemed to me, however, if you would believe and obey the order of God, all would be made clear before you. Then I saw a tall young man, (it seemed to me it was your youngest brother,) who poured down bags of gold , not once only, or twice, but several times. Some were small, others seemed large sums; one was very large; and it was impressed on my mind that all your trials of that kind were over, and that you would never experience those difficulties any rnore.* She then asked, Have

* This whole account is certainly very extraordinary. No pious person, however, will say that the Lord has not helped, or would not thus direct or comfort his servants, in peculiar difficulties; and no person, who was acquainted with Mrs. Clapham, will doubt either the truth cu her declaration, or the sobriety of her mind.— ED.

you more brothers than one I replied, Yes, I have two, and the youngest is tall; but I never received any thing in particular from him, nor have I the least reason to expect it. Her discourse, however, with several concurring circumstances, made an impression on our minds; and after asking direction from the Lord, we agreed to take the step in a fortnight.

For the first week all remained as usual; but in the beginning of the second, a gentleman came quite unexpectedly, and bought the place, for one thousand six hundred and twenty pounds. Three days after, another took the stock, &c. A way seemed also to open for each member of the family; so that with a little assistance, every one had a comfortable prospect before them. The case of one, a poor cripple, who had lived with me sixteen years, seemed difficult. Though she feared and loved God, she had such infirmities no one was willing to take her; and we had some reasons against taking her with us to Madeley. But this difficulty also was removed. On Sunday night, November the 11th, I received a letter from a pious lady, who had first recommended her to me, stating that she would take her back and maintain her.

All was now so far settled, that I did not need to sell Laytonstone estate. My income would afford to allow the pious souls of my dispersed family fifty-five pounds per year; pay the interest of the money still owing; and yet leave me such an annual sum as was about equal to my dear Mr. Fletcher’s income; and in case of my death, there was in Laytonstone more than would pay all.

So on Monday, the 12th of November, 1781, in Batley church, we covenanted in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, to bear each other’s burdens, and to become one for ever.

We agreed it would be best to leave all our furniture, except a few trifles, to be sold with the house. Pine would do for us as well as mahogany. I felt some attachment to my neat furniture; but love to the order of God made me take the spoiling of them very cheerfully. The money was not to be paid in immediately for the estate; we were, therefore, rather at a loss to settle all our accounts before we left the place, and to give that assistance to our friends we wished to do. On an exact calculation, we found a hundred pounds were wanting. We laid it before the Lord; and the next post I received a letter from my youngest brother, with a bank note of one hundred pounds enclosed, as a present;—though he knew nothing of our particular want, nor had I the least reason to expect his assistance, except the extraordinary communication by Mrs. Clapham, which I have related.

On January 2, 1782, we set out for Madeley. But O! where shall I begin my song of praise What a turn is there in all my affairs! What a depth of sorrow, distress, and perplexity, am I delivered from! How shall I find language to express the goodness of the Lord! Not one of the good things hath failed me of all the Lord my God hath spoken. Now I know no want, but that of more grace. I have such a husband as is in every thing suited to me. He bears with all my faults and failings in a manner that continually reminds me of that word, Love your wives as Christ loved the Church. His constant endeavour is to make me happy; his strongest desire my spiritual growth. He is, in every sense of the word, the man my highest reason chooses to obey. I am also happy in a servant, whom I took from the side of her mother’s coffin, when she was four years old. She loves us as if we were her parents, and is also truly devoted to God.

Madeley, Shropshire, May 80, 1782.—Where shall I begin, or how recount thy faithfulness, O my God! O! What is man, that thou art mindful of him Above all, what am I, most sinful dust and ashes, that thou hast made my cup to run over above all I could think or wish for! O for holiness! Lord, let me be thine, and doubly thine for ever!

O the fears which filled my soul before and after our marriage! but how causeless have they all proved! I have the kindest and tenderest of husbands; so spiritual a man, and so spiritual a union, I never had any adequate conception of. He is every way suited to me, all I could wish.* The work among souls increases. I feel it is the Lord

* Mr. Wesley observes in a letter to the late Mrs. Rogers, at that time (December 9, 1781) Miss Roe, I should not have been willing that Miss Bosanquet should have been joined to any other person than Mr. Fletcher; but I trust she may be as useful with him as she was before.—See his Works, vol. vii.

who hath cast my lot here. For some months I suffered much through fears of various kinds; all my situation being changed, I feared I should not be equal to the task allotted me, and that I should not be able to please the people for their good. But O! had I in every trial but believed all the way through, how sweetly might I have gone on! Now I see what a gracious Providence bath superintended all! Praise the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, praise his holy name

June 7.—What a deliverance hath the Lord wrought for me! A year ago, I thought there was nothing before me (temporarily) but ruin. This day twelve months, I cried out, Thou hast not delivered thy people at all. How wonderful a chain of providences! As soon as we determined to marry in a fortnight, and leave the event to the Lord, ‘the house and all was sold in ten days, and a way made for every one! But wanting a hundred pounds more to get out of that situation, we prayed the Lord to appear in our behalf, and immediately my youngest brother supplied our every need, though he knew not any thing of our necessity.

In all my ways thy hand I own!

Thy ruling providence I see.

September 12.—I have seen forty-three years! Lord, to what purpose! Most of this day I have spent in secret prayer; yet my soul is rather sorrowful. I have a variety of people and different calls of God to attend unto; and I seem to want more wisdom, light, and love. My spiritual sphere of action is different. I have in many respects a wider call for action than before; but such a one as requires the momentary teaching of the Lord, both in conversing and Writing. Yet I do not feel all that I felt at Hoxton. No, I do not so live by faith as I did then. But I lie before thee, O Lord! Do all thy will on thy poor creature, for whom thou hast appeared in so marvellous a manner!

October.—The animating example of my dear husband stirs me up much. What a spiritual life does he live— night and day he is always on the stretch for God. I am a good deal encouraged for the people. I have much liberty in meeting them, and my soul feels sweet fellowship with some among them.

November 1.—I feel the care which a new place, and a new situation, is apt to bring on, and it disturbs the peace which should be kept in my soul. Lord, increase my faith ! There are many peculiar circumstances in our affairs, and strangers are concerned therein; but in the end I have found it all work for good; it has been to me a good and useful lesson. First, I find it a cause of rejoicing that I have found so much love to the persons concerned in it; and secondly, while I was praying about it, it seemed as if the Lord showed me, as immediately from himself, that I was not required to have any anxious care, but that doing as well as I could, I might leave all to God. And if still I could not have things as I would wish, that it was the most profitable cross in the world; for it may be helpful to the soul, after doing all we can, to appear a fool in the eyes of men. Those words also bore much on my mind

Fix on his work thy constant eye,

So shall thy work be done.

I now felt a sweet calm waiting on the will of God, and I could say, Lord, I leave every thing to thee! One only care my soul shall know ! As I was telling the whole affair to my dearest husband, he said, Polly, do not encumber yourself for my sake. If we must be thought ignorant and awkward, let us submit to it. I require nothing of thee, my Polly, but to be more and more devoted to God.

November 12.—Glory! unceasing glory to my adorable Lord! This day we have been married one year. O how does my soul praise God for his gracious providence! What a helpmate is he to me, and how much better do we love one another this day, than we did this day twelve months! On a close examination, I have reason to believe my soul is coming forward. I have seen this year many and great changes, had many trials and many comforts, and I have learned much experience in various things, which has been much blessed to me. O for the moment when I shall become a whole burnt sacrifice!

Having had some hurry by means of unexpected company staying in the house, and some other things, and reflecting how hard it is to keep up uninterrupted communion with God in outward hurry, it was opened before me, that the very spirit of the Christian life stood in the strictest observations of these words: If a man offend not in tongue, the same is a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole body. Now, for want of this watchfulness, I offend often, and that causes distraction of spirit, and much hurt many ways. If I had a more constant waiting, a more continual attention to the Spirit of God, I believe I should find much more room for silence than I usually do; and that when it was my duty to speak, my words would have more weight. O my God, bring me to this by the way that thou knowest; give me a watchful mind! An eye always fixed on thee, and a far deeper sense of thy sacred presence! I also want a greater power of faith to lead on these precious souls that are under my care to more abundant life. Many are now just on the river’s brink, but it seems they want a better helper to assist in bringing them over.

May 21, 1783.—This day has been a day of trial. In the morning as I walked out about six o’clock, Mr. * * *’s letter of last night came with pain to my mind. I do not like the good that is in my dearest Mr. Fletcher to be evil spoken of. Before dinner I strove to get near to God, but having been up most of last night, I was very heavy. In the afternoon I could do but little, but I strove to pray. That passage in Mr. Wesley’s Notes on the First Epistle of St. John, was much blessed, and very sweet to me. Love is the beginning of eternal life. The same in substance with glory. Also St. John’s words, He that abideth in him sinneth not. I saw love comprised all in itself. For two hours I was led to lie before the Lord, though with many distractions, yet mingled with faith and longing desire. O when wilt thou take up in me thine everlasting abode!

May 22.—I have this day been engaged in company, and sweetly met the order of God therein. I was enabled to be watchful; and blessed be God, my tongue has been kept. We took sweet counsel together, and I felt the Lord was the director of all within and without.

August 5.—Since the above, (May 22,) what have I seen of the goodness of the Lord! A fever has been in the parish, which took off many whom we saw it our duty to attend. It brought eternity very near, and that always does me good. It came into our family; and Sally was attacked with it. But my gracious God supported me under all burdens, and raised her up again in a wonderful manner. Soon after her recovery, Dr. Coke came in his way from Dublin. When I heard he was below, I felt an unusual spring of pleasure, with something of a conviction that he brought a message from the Lord. I instantly felt a spirit of submission, and as it were a listening to the will of God. So I have often felt when some conviction of fresh duty was about to be made plain to me. A few days before this, as I was one morning at prayer, I thought of one of our neighbours, (a speaker among the Friends,) who was gone to Ireland. It was suggested, Should I be called thither, could I resolve to go It really seemed I could not. The sea, to me ever terrible, appeared then doubly so, and I groaned under the thought,—where is faith and resignation

When we came into the parlour, we found the doctor had brought some letters from Dublin to each of us, by which it seemed the cloud moved that way. We said but little then, but went to church, where the doctor preached. Before we came out, my soul was all readiness to go to the world’s end, if my adorable Lord so ordered it.

When we came home, I followed my dear to his study, and told him if he saw it his call to go, I saw it mine to follow him. He tenderly objected my health, as I had been very poorly some time, and in such a state of relaxation, that I waked for several mornings with blood in my mouth; but I believed that was not to hinder. Since that day we have been preparing for our journey; and I have enjoyed some communion with God in so doing. Satan is not wanting to suggest every thought that can raise fear. One day I was thinking, what would save me from all painful fear. If the Lord was to give me a promise of our safe return, that my dear husband’s health should not be hurt, and that we should have much success when there, would that do I hesitated, and my confidence seemed to be shook by temptation. I then thought, What will enable me to drink this cup. to the glory of my Lord My heart presently answered, Nothing but an entire resignation; a losing of my whole will in that of my Lord’s, and here I instantly found I was on a solid rock.

The trial is not come single. My dear husband’s health is not very good. What the Lord will do with us I know not. We are, however, ready for setting off. I feel my heart much enlarged, and my spirit so willing to do and suffer the whole will of God, that it amazes me. When I think of my dear husband’s life or health being in danger, I am not anxious as I used to be, but can rest in the love and wisdom of my unchangeable Friend. For this I praise him, because no words can express the treasure I possess in our union. It is such as I had no idea was to be enjoyed in a married state; and in proportion as I get nearer to God, I find a daily increase of that union, and yet I am enabled so to give him up to the Lord, that it holds my soul in a quiet dependence and sweet adherence to the will of God.

William-street, Dublin, September 12.—This day of our birth calls for solemn praise. I say our birth, because, as far as we can learn, my dear Mr. Fletcher was born on the same day ten years before me. And why were we ever brought into being Here is the comfortable answer: I have created thee for my glory: I have formed thee for my praise ! O let us answer that design for ever!

Many were my conflicts before we set out for this place. At one time it was represented to me, that when we were on the watery element, the prince of the power of the air would exert all his efforts against us. As the thought presented, in a moment those words sprang up in my heart: -

We shall be safe, for Christ displays

Superior power and guardian grace.

The Lord gave me to see the whole universe so under his command, as I cannot express. I saw him as holding the winds in his fist, and the waters in the hollow of his hand. And that sooner all nature should change, than one of (God’s promises fail. I am naturally inexpressibly fearful, with all sorts of fear, beyond what words can paint; and it was o represented, if I went among strangers, I should, by that weakness, bring much discouragement on the feeble ones of the flock. But the instance of Gideon was brought before me, and I was made to feel the Lord can get himself glory by the weakest worm; and my heart answered, O will Divine, which I adore and love! what a rest there is to be found in thee!

Well, in this will, with the prayers and blessing of many of our friends, on August the 12th we set off. As we drove from our own door, and my dear was commending us to the protection of the Lord, that word rested on my mind with power, I am thy shield. When we passed the, Birches, (where a few years ago that remarkable phenomenon occurred,) Mr. Fletcher pointed out to me the roads and fields which were so lately covered with the river. We could not but be much amazed at the stupidity of the human heart. Most of the inhabitants seem almost to have forgotten the whole transaction! and we were led to observe how vain is the common objection to the miracles of our Lord, or to, the sun standing still at Joshua’s word, that they are not recorded in common history. Ah no! That which does not take hold on the sinful affections is soon lost and forgotten! While we were conversing on the above subject, we passed the Eaton Constadine, a little village rendered famous by the birth of that great servant of God, Mr. Baxter, with whose spirit we joined our feeble act of worship before the throne.

At night we were affectionately received by Mrs. Glynne, of Shrewsbury, whose love to the children of God does not grow cold. May He who hath promised the’ prophet’s reward, repay her in time and eternity. While my dear was preaching that night, on the danger of being ashamed of the Gospel, my heart yearned toward the people of that place, and the cry of my spirit was, O that these people might live before thee. The next morning we pursued our journey as far as Llangollen, in Wales; but all the horses being out, we were constrained to abide there all night. Inquiring (as we walked about the town) whether they had any praying people among them, the poor things answered us in the best manner they could; and after consulting together, they said, Yes, sir, there are some people who pray in houses at the other end of the town, but we do not know what they be. Another said, This very night there is a man to preach in the chapel belonging to these praying people. According to their direction we went to the place, and found a few poor people gathered in a building, I believe part of an old house. The preacher seemed very earnest and lively; I say seemed, for we could not understand one word, except gogoniant and gwaed, glory and blood; which, with much emphasis, he often repeated. After we were returned to our inn, the few who could understand English came to us, and desired my dear to give them a sermon in the morning, which he did on these words: This is his commandment, that we should believe on the name of his Son Jesus Christ, and love one another, as he hath given us commandment. It was a good time, and several were present who understood English. We then set off for Conway, and Friday afternoon reached Holyhead. Here, for some reasons, I wished to stop a little, and inquiring when a vessel would sail, we were informed not till next morning. Mr. Fletcher was but poorly. A swelling which he had on his face now broke, and gave him much inconvenience; but on Saturday morning, we were informed that the packet was going off. Some of the people said, The wind is quite contrary, you will have but a disagreeable passage; but believing it to be the order of God we embarked.

Now I remembered how the Lord had shown me, He measureth the waters in the hollow of his hand. The wind soon grew more favourable, and the sea so smooth, that it seemed to me as if I heard him say, Peace, be still ! Mr. Fletcher was not much affected by the sea, but I was very ill. About one o’clock on Sunday morning we cast anchor three miles from Dublin. We then got into a boat, which was rather troublesome, as the tide kept it in continual agitation; but through the goodness of the Lord we arrived safe. After being hindered for some time by the custom house officers, we reached by five in the morning the hotel on Dublin quay.

We now abide with our hospitable friends, Mr. and Mrs. Smyth, in William-street, and have seen much of the Lord’s hand in bringing us hither. My dear husband has been favoured with such an unction in preaching the word, that it distils as the dew on the mown grass. The present preachers in Dublin, brothers Rutherford and Jackson, are truly simple, pious men, and respect that command. In honour preferring one another. They heartily rejoice in the message my dear husband delivers among them. There are some spirits in this place in whom we find a degree of the primitive simplicity, rejoicing to see a stranger whom they believe the Lord has sent to be a helper of their joy.

I feel a faith riveted in my heart that before it is long there will be a great revival of the work of God in Dublin. I feel much liberty in meeting the classes. Here are a few souls truly athirst for full salvation, and many who inquire after the most excellent way. Our kind and generous host and hostess allow us all freedom in their house, for the glory of God, and the good of his people; and as their servants also are pious upright persons, we can here worship with them in calm and brotherly love.

Madeley, October 3O.—How much of thy goodness, O my God! have I seen since I last wrote! On the seventh of this month we left Dublin, and embarked in a Liverpool brig, bound for Holyhead. We had a long way to go in the boat, and about eight at night entered the vessel. The sea was then pretty smooth; but in the night the wind grew high, and the captain thought the sea more swelling than he had seen it for some years. It was what they call very squally; and we were extremely sick, far worse than in going. Those words, given me before I left home, were much on my mind: -

And shall he not have

The life which he gave,

So precious a ransom for ever to save

And also, Though I remain in the uttermost parts of the sea, there shall his hand guide me, and his right hand shall hold me. I could not tell whether they were not a call to sacrifice our lives to Him who had sacrificed his for us: but I lay still before the Lord, in the spirit of resignation, saying, Thy will be done.

In going over, my dear husband’s tender attention was a great alleviation to my suffering, but now we were both so ill (as was also Sally) we could scarce speak or look toward each other, but only wait before the Lord, that all his will might be done. Toward morning, the pump told us the vessel was leaky, but it was in a small degree, and we were near land. It served to remind us of that word There is but a step between me and death!

Since our return I have closely examined what I have lost or got in these last three months. I exceedingly praise the Lord that ever we went to Dublin, and that for various reasons. There are some souls there with whom my spirit found much fellowship; at whose feet I sat, and, I trust, learned many useful lessons. My dear Mr. Fletcher preached in several places beside the preaching house in Whitefriars-street, both to the French and English, and we had some remarkable proofs that he was called there of God,* I have also learned more of my

* Having visited Dublin soon after the departure of these servants of God, I can add my testimony to the great and good effects which resulted from their visit, and their truly evangelical labours. Never did I see such deep impressions made on the minds of that people, except, perhaps, in the very short visits of Mr. Wesley. But he had the care of all the Churches, and was occupied with that care in every place. Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher had a liberty in that respect which our father in the Gospel could not have. They were the unencumbered helpers of the people’s joy; and it was truly the joy of the Lord. Those Divine impressions were deep and abiding: and, as Mrs. Fletcher hoped, a great revival of pure religion followed in that society. It had usually consisted of about 500 persons, but it soon increased to upward of 1,000, and has never since fallen below that number. Such longing after entire conformity to the Son of God, I never beheld! It seemed to be the general sentiment of all, from the highest to the lowest of the people. How wide this sacred influence might have extended, who can tell, if a poor sectarian spirit had not limited the labours of the man of God. On their arrival at Dublin, their host, Mr. Smyth, a distinguished and most respectable gentleman, applied to the rector of St. Andrew’s parish (in which he lived) for Mr. Fletcher to preach in his church, and as he was a beneficed minister, it was immediately granted. The church (commonly called the Round Church) was crowded to excess. Mr. Fletcher’s text was Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian, Acts xxvi 28. He showed what it was to be a Christian, from the liturgy which had just been read; beginning with the general confession, and the authoritative declaration of pardon to those who truly repent, and unfeignedly believe his holy Gospel; and going on to that cleansing of our hearts by the inspiration of his Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love him, and worthily magnify his holy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. He then proceeded to persuade them with an earnestness and power that astonished the congregation some of whose seemed to doubt if he were not more than human. But, alas! It was soon known that Mr. Fletches preached that same evening at the Methodist preaching house! The pulpits of the churches were immediately shut against him,

own weakness and ignorance. I know not I ever found a more humbling season than while I was there. My continual prayer was, Ah! Lord, break me in pieces! Melt me down and let me flow, and more fully take the mould Divine! My soul is deeply convinced of the need of being filled with all the fruit of the Spirit, or I shall never bring glory to my God. O that thou wouldst accomplish all thy will upon me!

Since our return, my dear husband has taken another journey of about two hundred miles, from which he has a good deal suffered. His face is not yet well. But the unwearied patience and resignation wherewith he goes through all, is to me a continual lesson, which I wish to imitate.

November 12.—And do we see the anniversary of our blessed union yet another year And are we yet more happy and more tender toward each other Yes, glory be to God! we are; and what is better, I can truly say, our souls get nearer to God. We are more spiritual, and live more for eternity. What have we passed through together since this day twelvemonth! What a tender kind friend hath he proved himself to me in every circumstance of each situation! And now Providence hath so graciously brought us again to our own country, and quiet habitation. O that we may live to him more than ever.

Yesterday I was much blessed in offering up my whole self, with all my concerns, into the hand of God, believing he would appoint me all my work, and all my crosses. He showed me he would make his will known to me through that of my dear husband, and that I was to accept his directions as from God, and obey him as the Church does Christ. That I must give myself to his guidance as a child, and wherever we were called, or however employed

with the exception of the French church. The first time he preached there his text was, Call to remembrance the former days,in which, after ye were illuminated, ye endured a great fight of afflictions, Hebrews x, 32. He thus brought before them the faith of their ancestors and the persecutions that had driven them from their native land, and strongly enforced the inquiry, Do ye now believe When some of the people were asked, ‘‘ Why did you go to the French church to hear Mr. Fletcher, when you could not understand one word he said They answered, we went to look at him, for heaven seemed to beam from his countenance!—En.

in the work of God, I Should always find protection, and glorify God, while I renounced all choice by doing the will of another rather than my own. This, indeed, I have always seen; but it was now more deeply impressed on my heart, as I was assured there was no danger in doing so, having his guidance. I saw how often, through that unaccountable fear which presses down my spirit, I have been afraid to follow in the ways he hath pointed out, and so have hindered the order of God. Lord, from this day I covenant afresh to be in this particular at thy own disposal!

February 3, 1784.—This day my convictions have been greatly deepened concerning the sin of unwatchfulness in the use of my tongue. We must be willing to be dumb, and not open our mouth, when God’s order calls us to it; and to be fools in the eyes of man, that we may receive the true wisdom.

September 12.—This day I am forty-five years old. Lord, what hath my setting sun to shine on Must I say, A lost life O, how much of it hath been so! What might I have been! What might I have done for thee, O God! Yet this day I have had such a sense of the goodness of God toward me as I cannot express. I am filled with favours! I have the best of husbands, who daily grows more and more spiritual, and I think more healthful, being far better than when we first married. My call is also so clear, and I have such liberty in the work, and such sweet encouragement among the people. My servant too is much improved, and as faithful as if she was my own child. An income quite comfortable, and a good deal to help the poor with! O what shall I render to the Lord for all the mercies he hath shown unto me!

October.—As I was retired this morning at my ten o’clock hour, I was called down to Mary G—. I asked her if she still retained her spiritual liberty. I found by her answers that she did, which caused me to praise the Lord. She gave me a strange account, which I shall insert as she related it. A short time ago, she said, she was one day going out to work in the fields, but thought she would first go up stairs to prayer. While on her knees, praising God for the care he had taken of her children, she was amazed to see her eldest son, about twenty-one years old, standing before her! She started up, but thought, May be it is the enemy to affright me from prayer. Casting her eyes again to the same spot, she still saw him there, on which she ran down into the kitchen, calling on the name of the Lord. Still, wherever she looked, she saw him standing before her, pale and as if covered with dirt! Concluding from this that he was killed, she ran to her mother, who, on hearing the account, went directly to the pit, determined to have him home; if alive. On her drawing near the pit she heard a great tumult, for the earth had fallen in on him and two other men, and the people were striving, to dig them out. At length he was got up alive and well, and came home to his mother, pale and dirty, just as she had seen him! She then fell on her knees, and began praising that God who hears and answers prayer! Many of the ungodly neighbours having been witness to the whole transaction, are much affected, and I trust this very strange occurrence will work for good.*

October.—Yesterday I was very much taken up in house affairs. Various things occurred which would at sometimes have been a burden; but every thing seemed blessed. These words were all day the language of my heart,—

With thee delighted I forget

All time, and toil, and care;

Labour is rest, and toil is sweet,

If thou, my God, be there.

It was a day of prayer and sweet recollection. This day also I have found much of the presence of God. O for a power of self-denial in all things to do his will!

November 12.—We have been married three years this day. A good day it has been to me! My spirit has beers much drawn out in prayer for a farther lift of faith, without which I am sensible I cannot obtain the fulfilment of that promise, Her clothing shall be of wrought gold ! As I was this day reflecting on the wonderful goodness of God in my providential union with my dear husband, (so far, so very far, beyond my warmest wishes,) my heart

* Was not this extraordinary dispensation permitted for the good of these ignorant ungodly persons, who were not likely to be moved by more rational means l—ED.

was enlarged with desire to render to my God a suitable return for all his mercies! I cried from the bottom of my soul to the Father, that he would draw me to the Son! I called on Christ as my living head! It was a peculiar season. These words have ever since abode on my mind: -

See him to thy help come down,

The excellence Divine.

November 16.—A thought struck my mind tonight, as I was looking over some part of my diary, that there is not praise enough for spiritual blessings. I express my wants, but I ought to praise the Lord without ceasing, that he gives me such an open door to pour out my wants into his bosom; and the answers to prayer I have of late found, have been so quick, so certain, and so wonderful, I am amazed!

In July last, we believed the Lord called us to Yorkshire for a few weeks,* and many answers to prayer did we meet with in that journey. Soon after our return, my dear husband was called to take another journey. I knew he would meet with much fatigue therein; and every journey hurts him much; but I was amazed at the calm resignation I felt; the language of my heart was,

Happy to meet, yet free to part,

Through thee for ever one in heart.

This autumn I have been a good deal among the people, and have found great liberty both in public and private meetings. Two dear souls have been lately brought in; and though persecution burns hot against them, they are yet firm, and rejoice that they are

* To attend the conference; the last at which Mr. Fletcher was present - ED

counted worthy to suffer for the cause of God. Lord, keep them, and make them firm as the beaten anvil to the stroke!

Lord’s day.—My dear husband was very poorly, and had much appearance of a fever. In the morning meeting I told the dear women we must hold him up by prayer; and indeed I felt our prayers had free access to the Lord. It would have warmed a heart of stone to have heard Mary Matthews give her simple, yet solid and wise declaration of the goodness of God. She had been a long time creeping hither with her sore leg; but she seemed scarce to know which to praise God most for, the strength he had given her to do so, or the pain she had felt all the night before! For, said she, if I had not had pain, I should have slept. But instead of that, I had such a Divine visit from my Lord, and such sweet intercourse with him, I would not have been without it for all the world. This woman grows much in grace; she is to me a great consolation, and a help in training up some of the lambs of the flock. She had been for some years in a mourning state, (though she still retained her faith,) but the first Sabbath my dear husband and I spoke in the kitchen, she was set at liberty while these words were sung :—

The year of jubilee is come!

Return, ye ransom’d sinners, home!

January 5, 1785.—I have this day been looking over my many mercies, and my heart

was melted into love! O what a prospect! Lord, speak again to my heart, Thou shalt walk with me in white ! I cast my whole self on thy mercy. So much I feel of it as makes me rest under thy shadow! Thy will shall be my choice! Sometimes I think I am so surrounded with comforts, I shall not answer that character, These are they which came out of great tribulation. But I abandon myself to thy dear will, only let me glorify thee to the uttermost! Yea, with every power! It was a good time last night also while at the’ prayer meeting.

Yesterday I went with my dear husband to —, but being taken ill, I was forced to return home. This is often the case with me. I am oft disappointed in what appears at first the will of God; but at this time it was far otherwise. I felt a pleasure in appearing mean and good for nothing. Yes, I will glory in my infirmity, that the will of God may be done in me!

July 2.—Much blessed today while my dear husband was preaching the sermon to the club. I had a sweet sight how union with God could transform the soul into his own image.

July 26.—This summer being dry, I have had much opportunity of going about. One day at the Rough Park, I had a peculiar instance of the goodness of God. A son of Belial, a wicked, rude fellow, bound himself and another young man, whom he had drawn in, under a blasphemous oath, that they would be there by the time we began, in order to make a disturbance. Accordingly, about six o’clock, he was for setting off,—when he was suddenly struck as with death. All about him really thought he was dying. He continued thus for some hours. O how easily can the Lord put his bridle into the jaws of those he would restrain! I gave it out to be there again that day fortnight, but in the meantime I walked to a distant place, rather beyond my strength; however, we had a good time. On my return home, I felt very weary, and the thought passed my mind, My soul is too swift for my body; for it seemed as if it would fly to those places where there appeared a call. My earthly frame, however, was too heavy to drag after it. That night I began to grow ill, and it terminated in a fever. My limbs swelled a good deal, and I was covered with red spots; but had not much pain. Now I had a fresh instance of the tender care and love of my blessed partner: sickness was made pleasant by his kind attention. When the day came for me to be at the Rough Park, he went himself, but was so penetrated with the thought of losing me, that he preached as it were my funeral sermon; and the dear people joined him in his feelings and prayer. During this illness many thoughts passed my mind, which I can scarce account for. For a good while past my dear husband has joined with me in prayer in an uncommon manner. We are led to offer ourselves to do and suffer all the will of God. Something seems to tell me I must have more of the bitter cup; and these words are much with me: That I may stand in the evil day, and having done all—stand. My prayer is, That the evil day may be before death,— not at the last. But, Lord, thy will—thy whole will be done!

Certainly I have now scarce any cross. Thou hast made my cup to run over! Yea, thou hast made me to forget all my sorrows. It seems as if I had never suffered any thing! There is not a comfort I can wish for which I have not ;—but, Lord, I want more grace!

October 25.— When I wrote last ( July 26,)~ I was indeed arrived a the summit of human felicity! My cup did indeed run over ! I often said, Lord! How is this Am I indeed one of those of whom it is said, These are they who came out of great tribulation My way is strewed with roses. I am ready to say, with Joseph, The Lord hath made me to forget all my afflictions, and all my fathers’ house!

But O ! how shall I write it! On the fourteenth of August, 1785, the dreadful moment came! The sun of my earthly joys forever set, and the cloud arose which casts the sable on all my future life! At half past ten that Sabbath night, I closed the eyes of my beloved! What a change! The whole creation wears a new face to me. The posture of my mind at this season I will not trust to my memory to describe. I will leave it in the rough manner I then set it down. Perhaps some one walking in the same dreary path may find a little comfort therefrom. To others it may be dry and insipid. The heart knoweth its own bitterness.

On September 15, 1785, I wrote in my diary as follows:

I am truly a desolate woman, who hath no helper but thee. I remember a little before the translation of my dearest love, we were drawn out continually to ask for a greater measure of the Spirit—such a measure as was given it pentecost : or in other words, such a manifestation of the loving nature of God, as should fulfil in us that promise, Ye are the temples of the Holy Ghost. This I asked and pleaded for, and that on any condition. My dear Mr. Fletcher used to say, That is right, Polly ;let us hold fast there, and leave all the rest to God, though he should be constrained to part us asunder to give the answer.

On the Tuesday before my love died, when those words were applied to my mind, Where I am, there shall my servants be, that they may behold my glory, I felt such a power in them, as seemed in a great degree to take away the bitterness even of that dreadful cup. To behold my glory ! That thought would for moments swallow up all, and I seemed to lose myself in the desire of his glory being manifested. But that awful night! when I had hung over my dear husband for many hours, expecting every breath to be his last, and during which time lie could not speak to, nor take any notice of me, a flood of unspeakable sorrow overspread my heart, and quite overwhelmed my spirit. I was scarcely in my senses; and such a fear seized my soul lest I should say or do any thing displeasing to the Lord, that I was torn as it were a thousand ways at once.

My fatigue had been great: I was barely recovered of my fever, and this stroke so tore my nerves, that it was an inlet to much temptation. In former parts of my life, I have felt deep sorrow; but such were now my feelings, that no words that I am able to think of can convey any adequate idea thereof. The next morning—O my God! what a cup didst thou put into my hand! Not only my beloved husband, but it appeared to me my Saviour also, was torn from me! Clouds and darkness surrounded both soul and body! The sins even of my infancy came before me, and assaulted me as thick as hail! I seemed to have no love, no faith, no light; and yet I could not doubt but I should see the smiling face of God in glory! Yea, that heaven would terminate all my sufferings! There did not seem one dart thrown at my final salvation. An unshaken belief that Christ would bring me through all, was my great support; and it seemed to me, that I must have been annihilated had I been moved from that anchor. No finite creature could have supported it. My agonized soul seemed to sweat blood; and I felt the meaning of those words, The pains of hell gat hold upon me ! What, said I, is this the soul that but a few days ago delighted in the thought of His glory ! But now he hath entered into judgment with me! My soul was amazed, and in deep anguish; and literally my life drew nigh to the grave!

When formerly I have read accounts like this, I have thought, These persons have a strong way of expressing themselves; but, alas! I solemnly declare, no expression appears to me strong enough for what I felt. That word passed my mind several times :—

Even to his Father did he look

In pain—his Father him forsook!

A host of foes seemed to surround me, and I was (as it appeared to me) given into their hands.* Those words came

* This whole account describes truly the hour and the power of darkness. The blast of the terrible ones was indeed as a storm against the wall! But this follower of Christ, nevertheless, walked not in darkness. She, like her Master could say My God! my God ! when her soul was sorrowful even unto

often to my mind, To know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings. Sometimes I remembered that expression, My God! My God! why hast thou forsaken me I cast my mournful eyes toward the Man of sorrows who spoke them, but there seemed no answer; all was horror and darkness.

Many times a day I visited my lovely corpse, remembering, as I knelt beside him how he used to say, Ah! my dear Polly, must I ever see thee laid out on this bed! But, alas! he could no more speak to me—no more express his tender sympathy! Now I trod the winepress alone, and truly there was none with me. The rest of the day I sat mostly alone in the next room, where my window presented to my view the grave digging, and the churchyard visited by numbers to look at the vault! Soon it occurred to my mind, that before we married some letters had passed between us on particular subjects which he had often told me I had better burn; saying, Thou puttest it off: and if one of us should die, it will almost kill the other to do it then. Yet, being loath to part with them, I had neglected to do it; but now being seized with a kind of palsy, and loss of memory, I thought, Perhaps in another day I may not be able to do it, and then I shall be unfaithful to my dear husband’s command. The third day, therefore, I carried them to the fire. But O! what did I feel at the sight! I could not even avoid seeing some of the tender expressions they contained, which were now as barbed wires to my heart. Next day came on the funeral.

All this time my soul was as in the lion’s den. The day after I heard that some reports were abroad concerning my dear husband’s death—as if he had been delirious, and expired in great agonies. I believed I was called to write the truth; and casting myself on the Lord, to be guided by his hand as a mere machine, I took up my pen and wrote to Mr. Wesley the following letter. I wrote it at one sitting, intending to copy it afterward; but I had no more strength than just sufficed for the occasion. I sent it, therefore, as it was, to the press, and left it all to God

death. Thus, Heaven its choicest gold by suffering tried. The saint sustained it—but the woman felt: and she no more disguised her feelings than our Divine Master did.—ED.

August 18,1785.

REV. AND VERY DEAR SIR :—Though but yesterday I with my beloved husband’s remains, I must now endeavour to collect my wounded mind, as I would not have any of his words fall to the ground, and give, if possible, some account of the awful, but, to him, glorious scene,

Our union increased daily, as did his health and strength; his consumptive complaint appeared quite removed, and in my eyes the bitterness of death was past. The work was sweetly prospering, and in a variety of circumstances the sun of prosperity shone around us.

For some time before this last illness, his precious soul. (always alive to God) was particularly penetrated with, the nearness of eternity; there was scarce an hour in which he was not calling upon me to drop every, thought and every care, that we might attend to nothing but drinking deeper into God. We spent much time in wrestling prayer for the fulness of the Spirit, and were led in a very peculiar manner to an act of abandonment (as we called it) of our whole selves into the hands of God, to do or suffer whatever was pleasing to him. On Thursday, August 4, he was taken up in the work of God from three in the afternoon till nine at night; when he came home, he said, I have taken cold.’ Friday and Saturday he was but poorly, though he went out part of the day, but seemed uncommonly drawn out in prayer. On Saturday night is fever first appeared very strong. I begged him not to go to the church in the morning, but let a pious brother who was there preach in the yard; but he told me he believed it was the will of the Lord, and that he was assured it was right he should go; in which case I never dared to dissuade him. As I was in the morning with a little company of our pious women, I begged they would pray that he might be strengthened, and that I might have a grain of that faith which supported the faithful when their friends were martyred. In reading the prayers he almost fainted away. I got through the crowd with a friend, and entreated him to come out of the desk, as did some others; but he let us know, in his sweet manner, that we were not to interrupt the order of God. I then retired to my pew, where all around me were in tears. When he was a little refreshed by the windows being, opened, and a nosegay thrown into the desk by a friend, he went on; and afterward going up into the pulpit, preached with a strength and recollection that surprised us all.

In his first prayer he said, ‘Lord, thou wilt manifest thy strength in weakness; we confer not with flesh and blood, but put our trust under the shadow of thy wings.’

His text was from Psalm xxxvi, ‘Thou, Lord, shalt save both man and beast; how excellent is thy mercy, O God; and the children of men shall put their trust under the

shadow of thy wings.’

After he had pointed out the Saviour of mankind, and observed, how some by sin had made themselves beasts, he showed that the promise, even in that sense, might be applied to the sinner, as well as to the beasts of the earth: and in speaking to these, with his usual earnestness, be pressed, invited, and entreated them to return unto God, enforcing those words of our Lord when he came near to Jerusalem, and wept over it: ‘If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong to thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes.’ These words peculiarly pierced the hearts of many, as they have since told me. He continued to observe, in nearly the following words, ‘That the wings of the Lord are compared to those of an eagle for strength and protection,’ Exodus xix, ‘I bare you on eagles’ wings, and brought you unto myself.’ ‘And to those of a hen for love and care, ‘Like as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings.’ In the Jewish tabernacle, where was the holy of holies, two cherubim, were placed, whose extended wings joining together overshadowed the mercy seat. When Christ died upon the cross, his arms were stretched out, and these were as wings of love which he opened, and still holds wide open, to receive all that come unto him; let us then, when we see his love and power thus united to save and bless us, enter boldly into the holy of holies through the door of Divine mercy. A friend threw me some flowers to revive me when I was faint, but the mercy of the Lord is far more reviving; it is this I would hold out to you, and drop it into your very bosoms; may it sink deep there, that you may ‘taste and see how good the Lord is,’ and confess that his saving mercy is above the richest perfume, for ‘he saves both man and beast!’

After sermon he went up the aisle to the communion table, with these words: ‘I am going to throw myself under the wings of the cherubim before the mercy seat.’

The congregation was large, and the service held till near two. Sometimes he could scarcely stand, and was often obliged to stop for want of power to speak. The people were deeply affected. Weeping was on every side. Gracious Lord! how was it my soul was kept so calm in the midst of the most tender feelings Notwithstanding his extreme weakness, he gave out several verses of hymns, and various lively sentences of exhortation. As soon as the service was over, we hurried him away to his bed, where he immediately fainted away. He afterward dropped into a sleep for some time, and upon waking, cried out, with a pleasant smile, ‘Now my dear, thou seest I am no worse for doing the Lord’s work: he never fails me when I trust in him.’ After he had got a little dinner he dozed most of the evening; now and then waking (as was usual with him) full of the praises of God. That night his fever returned, but not so bad as on Saturday; nevertheless from Sunday his strength decreased amazingly. On Monday and Tuesday we had a little paradise together; he lay on a couch in the study, and was at times very restless, as to change of posture, but sweetly pleasant, and often slept for a good while. When awake, he delighted much in hearing me read hymns and tracts on faith and love. His words were all animating, and his patience beyond what I can express. When he had any bitter or nauseous medicine to take, he seemed to enjoy the cross, reminding me of a word he used often to repeat, that our business was to seek a perfect conformity to the will of God, and then leave him to give us what comfort he saw good. I asked him, if he should be taken from me, whether he had any particular directions or orders to give me, since I desired to form my whole life thereby. He replied, ‘No, not by mine, the Holy Ghost shall direct thee; I have nothing particular to say, only that the Lord will open all before thee; and let not any one bring thee into bondage. If I stay with thee, I will keep thee from oppression; but if I should be taken from thee, beware.’ I said, Hast thou any conviction the Lord is about to take thee He answered, ‘No, not in particular; only I always see death so inexpressibly near, that we both seem to stand as ‘on the verge of eternity.’ While he slept a little, I laid my trial before the Lord, entreating him, if it was his good pleasure, to spare my beloved husband a little longer; but my prayer seemed to have no wings. It was held down, and I could not help mingling continually therewith, Lord, give me perfect resignation! This uncertainty in my own mind made me rather tremble, lest the Lord was going to take the bitter cup out of my dear’s hand, and give it unto me. The cup of separation he had for some weeks before very deeply drank of, when I myself was ill of the fever. At that time he often passed through the whole parting scene, and struggled for the fortitude of perfect resignation. Sometimes he would say at that season, ‘ O Polly! shall I ever see the day when thou must be carried out to be buried How will the little things which thou wast accustomed to use, and ..all those which thy tender care has prepared for me in every part of the house, how will they wound and distress me! How is it! I think I feel jealousy I am jealous of the worms! I seem to shrink at giving my dear Polly to the worms!’ ‘

Now all these reflections returned with a millstone’s weight on my heart. I cried to the Lord, and those words were deeply impressed on my spirit: ‘Where I am, there shall my servants be, that they may behold my glory.’ ‘This promise was full of matter as well as unction to my soul. It explained itself thus: That in Christ’s immediate presence was our home, and that we should find our reunion in being deeply centred in him. I received it as a fresh marriage for eternity. As such I still take, and trust for ever to hold it. All that day, whenever I thought of this expression, ‘to behold my glory,’ it seemed to wipe every tear away, and was as the ring by which we were joined anew.

Awaking some time after, he said,’ ‘Polly, I will tell you what I have been thinking of; it was Israel’s fault that they asked for signs ; we will not do so; but abandoning our whole selves into the hands of God, we will there lie patiently before him, assured that he will do all things well.’

 

'My dear love,' said I, 'if ever I have done or said any thing to grieve thee, how will the remembrance wound my heart, shouldst thou be taken from me!'

He entreated and charged me, with inexpressible tenderness, not to allow the thought; declaring his thankfulness for our union, in a variety of words which remain written on my heart, as with the adamantine pen of friendship deeply dipped in blood.

On Wednesday, after groaning all day as it were under the weight of the power of God, he told me he had received such a manifestation of the full meaning of that word, ‘God is love,’ as he could never be able to tell. It fills me, said he; it fills me every moment, O Polly! my dear Polly! God is love! shout, shout aloud! O! it so fills me, I want a gust of praise to go to the ends of the earth. But it seems as if I could not speak much longer; between ourselves , (tapping me twice with his dear finger) now I mean ‘God is love, and we will draw each other into God: observe! By this we will draw each other into God.’

Sally coming in, he cried out, ‘O Sally! God is love! both of you; I want to hear you shout his praise.’ Indeed it was a season of love. All this time the medical friend who attended him with unwearied diligence, hoped he was in no danger. He knew it to be the fever; but as he had no bad headache, much sleep, without the least delirium, and an almost regular pulse, seldom much quicker than my own, he thought the symptoms amazingly mild; for though the disease was commissioned to take his life, yet it seemed so restrained by the power of God, that we truly discerned in it the verity of those words, Death is yours.

On Thursday, his speech began to fail. While he was able he continued speaking to all who came in his way. Accidentally hearing that a stranger was in the house, he ordered her to be called up, though uttering two sentences almost made him faint. To his friendly doctor he would not be silent while he had any power of speech ; often saying, ‘O, sir, you take much thought for my body; give me leave to take thought for your soul.’ And I believe his words will remain with that friend for ever. When I could scarcely understand any thing be said, I spoke these words, ‘God is love.’ Instantly he catched them, as if all his powers were awakened afresh, and broke out in a rapture, 'God is love, love, love! O for that gust of praise I want to sound!’ Here his dear voice again failed. He was restless, and often suffered many ways, but with such patience as none but those who were with him can conceive. If I named his sufferings, he would smile, and make the sign.

On Friday, finding his dear body covered with spots, I so far understood them, as to feel a sword pierce through my soul. As I was kneeling by his bed, with my hand in his, entreating the Lord to be with us in this tremendous hour, he strove to say many things, but could not. Pressing my hand, and often repeating the sign, at last he breathed out, ‘Head of the Church, be head to my wife.’ When, for a few moments I was forced to leave him, to gather up some sheets of one of his manuscripts, which I feared would be lost, Sally said to him, ‘My dear master, do you know me’ He replied, ‘Sally, God will put his right hand under you.’ She added, ‘O my dear master, should you be taken away, what a disconsolate creature will my poor dear mistress be!’ He replied, God will be her all in all.’ He had ‘always delighted much in these, words:—

'Jesus' blood through earth and skies,

Mercy, free, boundless mercy cries l’

And whenever I repeated them to him, he would answer, boundless, boundless, boundless! and in allusion to them, he now replied, though with great difficulty,

'Mercy's full power I soon shall prove,

Loved with an everlasting love.

On Saturday afternoon his fever seemed quite off, and a few Christian friends standing near the bed, he reached his hand to each of them, and looking on a minister, who was weeping by him, he said, ‘Are you ready to assist tomorrow’ Which recollection of his amazed us much, as the day of the week had not been named in his room. Most about him could not but believe he was better, and would get over it. One said, ‘Do you think that the Lord will raise you up’ ‘He strove to answer, saying, ‘Raise in resur—, raise in resur—,’ meaning in the resurrection. To another who asked the same question, he said, ‘I leave it all to God.’

In the evening his fever returned with violence, and the mucus falling on the windpipe, occasioned him to be almost strangled. He suffered greatly; and it was feared the same painful emotion would continue and grow more violent to the last. This I felt most exquisitely, and cried to the Lord to remove it; and, glory be to his name, he did remove it; and it returned no more in that way. As night drew on, I thought I perceived him dying very fast; his fingers could now hardly move to make the sign, (which he seemed scarce ever to forget,) and his speech, as it seemed, was quite gone. I said, ‘My dear creature, I ask not for myself; I know thy soul; but for the sake of others; if Jesus is very present with thee, lift thy right hand.’ He did so. I added, ‘If the prospect of glory sweetly opens before thee, repeat the sign.’ He then raised it again, and in half a minute a second time; then threw it up with all his remaining strength, as if he would reach the top of the bed! After this his dear hands moved no more; but on my saying, ‘Art thou in much pain he answered, ‘ No.’ From this time he entered into a state that might be called a kind of sleep, though with eyes open and fixed, and his hands utterly void of any motion. For the most part he sat upright against pillows, with his head a little inclined to one side, and so remarkably composed and triumphant was his countenance, that the least trace of death was scarcely discernible in it.

Twenty-four hours my dearly beloved was in this situation, breathing like a person in common sleep. About thirty-five minutes past ten, on Sunday night, August 14th, his precious soul entered into the joy of the Lord, without one struggle or groan, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. Often he had said, when hearing of happy deaths, ‘ Well, let us get holy lives, and we will leave the rest to God.’ But I, who was scarce a minute at a time from him night or day, can truly say that there was the strongest reason to believe,

'No cloud did arise, to darken the skies,

Or hide, for one moment, his Lord from his eyes.’

And here I break off my mournful story! I could say abundance more; but on my bleeding heart his fair picture of heavenly excellence will be for ever drawn. When I call to mind his ardent zeal, his laborious endeavours to seek and save the lost,—his diligence in the employment of his time,—his Christlike condescension toward me, and his uninterrupted converse with Heaven, I may well be allowed to add, my loss is beyond the power of words to paint. O sir, you know I have trodden deep waters; but ‘all my afflictions were nothing compared to this.’ Well, I want no pleasant prospect, but upward,—nor any thing whereon to fix my hope, but immortality.

On the 17th his dear remains were deposited in Madeley churchyard, amid the tears and lamentations of thousands, who flocked about the bier of their dead pastor. Between the house and the church, they sung these verses :—

'With heavenly weapons he hath fought

The battles of the Lord;

Finish’d his course, and kept the faith,

'And gain'd the great reward.

God hath laid up in heaven for him

A crown which cannot fade;

The righteous Judge, at that great day,

Shall place it on his head.’

The service was performed by the Rev. Mr. Hatton rector of Waters-upton, whom the Lord moved in a pathetic manner to speak to his weeping flock on the sad occasion. In the conclusion, at my request, he read the following paper: -

As it was the desire of my beloved husband to be buried in this plain manner, so out of tenderness he begged that I might not be present; and in all things I would obey him.

Permit me then to take this opportunity, by the mouth of a friend, to bear my open testimony to the glory of God, that I, who have known him in the most perfect manner, am constrained to declare, I never knew any one walk so closely in the ways of God as he did. The Lord gave him a conscience tender as the apple of an eye. He literally preferred the interest of every one to his own. He was rigidly just, but perfectly loose from all attachment to the world. He shared his all with the poor, who lay so close to his heart, that on the approach of death, though his speech was so gone that he could utter nothing without difficulty, he cried out, O, my poor! what will become of my poor! I am dead to my poor! He was blessed with so great a degree of humility as is scarcely to be found. I am witness how often he has taken a real pleasure in being treated with contempt; indeed it seemed the very food of his soul to be little and unknown. When he said to me, ‘Thou wilt write a line or two to my brother in Switzerland, if I die,’—I replied, ‘My dear love, I will write him all the Lord’s dealings with thee.’ ‘No, no,’ said he, ‘write nothing about me. I desire to be forgotten;-God is all!'

His zeal for souls I need not tell you: let the labour of twenty-five years, and a martyr’s death in the conclusion, imprint it on your hearts. His diligent visitation of the sick, laid, to appearance, the foundation of the spotted fever, which, by God’s commission, tore him from you and me; and his vehement desire to take his last leave of you, with dying lips and hands, gave (it is supposed) the finishing stroke, by preparing his blood for putrefaction. Thus hath he lived and died your servant. And will any of you refuse to meet him at God’s right hand in that day

He walked with death always in sight; and about two months ago he came to me one day, and said, ‘My dear love, I know not how it is, but I have a strange impression death is very near us, as if it be some sudden stroke upon one of us; and it draws out all my soul in prayer that we may be ready.’ He then broke out, Lord, prepare the soul thou wilt call; and O, stand by the poor disconsolate one who shall be left behind.

A few days before his departure, he was filled with love in an uncommon manner, saying to me, ‘I have had such a discovery of the depth of that word, God is love, as I cannot tell thee half, but it fills me, it fills me. O Polly! my dear Polly! God is love! shout his praise! I want a gust of praise to reach to the ends of the earth.’ And the same he testified as long as he had voice, and continued to testify to the end, by a most lamblike patience, in which he victoriously smiled at death, and set his last seal to the glorious truths he had so long preached among you.

Three years, nine months, and two days, I have possessed my heavenly minded husband; but now the sun of my earthly joy is set for ever, and my soul filled with an anguish which only finds its consolation in a total abandonment and resignation to the will of God: an exercise to which my dear husband and I had of late been particularly drawn. When I was asking the Lord if he pleased to spare him to me a little longer, the following answer was impressed on my mind with great power, and in the accomplishment of this word of promise I look for our reunion, 'Where I am there shall my servants be, that they may behold my glory!' Lord, hasten the hour!

I am, Rev, and dear sir, &c.,

MARY FLETCHER. The Rev. Mr. Wesley.

My anguish was extreme. All outward support seemed to be withdrawn; appetite and sleep quite failed me ; and even the air, I often thought, had entirely lost all its vivifying powers. As I never before had any conception of the bitter anguish which the Lord saw good to visit me with at this season; so I can give no just description of it. Known unto God are all his ways ; and I was assured, even in the midst of my trouble, that all he did was well, and that there was a needs be for this heavy trial. But what bound all my other trials upon me was, I felt continually the keenest accusations from Satan, constraining me by every possible suggestion to look at my extreme sensibility in suffering as being deeply sinful! What, thought I, has made this change! If Jesus was my all, should I not feel as keenly the sense of his having suffered for me, as I do in the thought of my clear husband’s kindness, and in the dreadful feeling of my separation from him And because I could feel but very faint touches of sensible communion with God, I was torn as it were in pieces. All my religion seemed shrunk into one point; viz., a constant cry, Thy will be done!*, yes, I will glorify thee, even in this fire!

Yet it seemed to me I did not glorify him; and so

* This is a fruit of the Spirit that never fails those who abide in the faith, even in the darkest hour.—ED.

afraid was I of turning to any human comfort, or stopping short of all the Lord would have me to do or be, that in the midst of this terrible furnace, I can say,’—that at every moment my conscience was quick as the apple of an eye, the slightest touch of sin to feel. ‘Yea, my spirit was all eye to discern its most distant approach. Yet in every thing I seemed to be accused, and also condemned; so that my soul, was indeed sorrowful even unto death.*

One morning before I was awake, I heard singing voices, as just over my face: they answered one another with these words,—

' Weep ye in Zion's deep distress,

In Zion’s sorrow mourn.

Then one voice, which I well knew to be that of my dearest love, spake in distinct words; and with much emphasis,—

Fight the good fight of faith with me,

My fellow soldier, fight.

It gave me some little comfort, and animated me to follow his bright example.

One day these words were applied with much power to my heart, These light

afflictions, which are but for a moment, shall work out for you a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. What, said I, did the apostle, who had been in the third heaven, and knew well what he said,—did he call these afflictions light when put in the scale with that glory It was answered in my heart, Yes, as a bubble! compared with the glory that shall be revealed. I got a momentary glimpse of our home above, in the celestial city; and those words were spoken through my heart,—

Heaven is thy inheritance,

Thou shalt soon remove from hence.

Very many were these little inbreakings of light, yea, often in a day ;—yet my pain was unspeakable. I was constantly perplexed with that thought, that a believer can never be in darkness; that they always rejoice

* In all this I believe the pious and well informed reader will be satisfied that, (as the Holy Ghost testifies of Job,) she sinned not. nor charged God foolishly.—ED.

with joy unspeakable and full of glory ; that nothing but sin given way to, can damp their joy.* This was an inlet to much temptation; and now I had no one to tell my troubles to! no partner to bear a share in them. In all our spiritual conflicts we had been so entirely one, that cares, by being divided, were hushed into peace. A word from him would frequently light up, as it were, a candle in my soul; and was enough to turn aside the keenest temptation. But now I trod the winepress alone, and felt my dependence had been too much on the creature. I had clung to him as the ivy to the oak, and now seemed to be nothing! I saw myself left in a howling wilderness alone! Yet still I could say,—

With thee I on Zion shall stand,

For Jesus hath spoken the word.

But the Lord seemed to do by me as by the Canaanitish woman; He did not answer me !—I

followed, and often said in my heart, (reflecting on all my unfaithfulness,) Ah! It is not

meet to take the children’s bread and cast it to the dogs ! It seemed I could to all eternity

have praised him for the least drop of comfort; and yet I felt the power of these words,— A drop will not suffice,

My soul for all thy fulness cries.

In the midst of this dreadful conflict I felt some consolation from the thought, that by the account of his precious death, which surely the Lord himself prompted, and enabled me to write, (as I had hardly at the time either sense or memory,) I had helped, in a little measure, that shout of praise to go forth, which, with his dying lips, he said he wanted to reach the ends of the earth! And though I have lost my dear husband, and felt the force of the hour and power of darkness, yet through all I believed I should conquer. So it is with me now; but I do not seem as yet to have the privilege of shouting victory.

As soon as the funeral was over, I found the dear children which my beloved partner had left behind, laid upon my mind. I saw there were many things to settle among them respecting the work of God; some dangerous rocks to avoid, and some needful plans to propose. Therefore, before another week passed, I saw I must act among them, and meet the people the same as before ;—and though very ill, and filled with sorrow, the Lord enabled me to do so— showing me the only way to bear the cross profitably was so to carry it as if I carried it not. About a fortnight before my dear husband’s last sickness, he was one night at the Wednesday meeting, when being greatly affected about me, as I was ill at that time, he could hardly get through it. He said to me afterward, My dear, I could scarcely speak to the people. I felt, I knew not how, as if thy empty chair stood by me! Something seemed to say we should soon be parted; and I thought, Must I meet these people, and see my Polly’s empty chair always by me ! But now the cup was mine. Yea, and I have drunk it to the very dregs!

September 21, 1785.—Ah! Lord, my soul is exceeding sorrowful! How lonely doth my situation appear! Torn from my dear companion, and made to walk in this dreary path! But this is my greatest weight—I do not feel that union with thee that would make up all. There are in deed moments in which a glimpse of thy love seems to unite me to all good, and wipes away every tear. But these are transient touches, and I am deeply oppressed with that fear that I am not approved in thy sight, because I do not rejoice evermore! I well know I want a farther plunge into thy sacred will. I am not yet the temple of the holy Ghost.

For some time back those words have been much on my wind, Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may, stand in the evil day, and having done all, may stand. I have sometimes said, Lord, have I passed that evil day, or is it still to come And I always felt with submission a desire it might not be in death. O Lord! do all thy will upon me, but make me wholly conformable with thy divine nature,! Glorify thyself in thy poor creature! I feel as if soul and body would be divided by this terrible wrench! Yet I acquiesce, fully acquiesce, in thy divine disposal. Yes, I see and admire thy wisdom! I bow down to a dispensation I do not clearly understand! The Lord hath done it! and that shall be enough to satisfy me. I remember one of my dear husband’s dying sayings was, Polly let us not fear, God is love! W hat canst thou fear, my dearest, when God is love I feel it is the truth; nevertheless I do not feel perfect rest in that truth, for want of that perfect love which casteth out all fear. Nothing will do for me but the indwelling Deity! He that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God in him.

October 3, 1785.—My sorrowful soul waiteth on thee, O Lord! O what a cloud there is on my whole situation! Three months ago I was raised to the highest pitch of human consolation. I often thought all that God could give of temporal comforts was poured upon me. Whenever I was hearing any one speak of the afflictions they were under, I used to be humbled to the very dust. Something would suggest, Ah! You may well bear your crosses, and rejoice that ye have a treasure continually augmenting in your bosom; but let God only lay his hand on your husband, and see then whether you will bless him! I seemed to me that I so honoured any of my fellow creatures who were in trouble, that I could kiss the very dust from their feet, and was often filled with astonishment, why such a wretch as I was spared their bitter cup! But now I drank it indeed; yet at the same time I can say, I see it my privilege to follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth, without asking where, or to what new cross he will lead me. O what should I do were it not for the privilege of pouring out my soul in prayer! Lord! come and make thine abode in me!

One day, when I had some reason to think this house would be wanted, and that I must quit it, I began to consider where I had best remove to. I reflected on my dear husband’s words, when he said, a little before he lost his speech, Stay here, my dear ;—I do not speak for the people, but for thy sake. Thou wilt never be so well settled again. Here thou wilt be most out of the way from many things which would be a cross and a hinderance to thee. It was therefore very painful for me to think of taking one single step in any thing contrary to his advice. And yet I must own, had he not all along said I must stay here, I believe I could not have resolved so to do, for every day brought me some cutting trial. A new ministry, a new plan for the work, and various causes of anxiety and trouble.

But now it appeared I must remove. I began to think of one place and another, but every one seemed to bear the gloom of night. I could see no spot in the creation for me to rest in. A peculiar inward feeling, also, seemed to turn from every place I could think of, as if the smile of God was not on my going there. I said, Lord, show me what I shall do! Only show me what is thy will! I thought on two places the most likely; and had some desire to draw a lot concerning them. I had the paper in my hand in order so to do, when the remembrance of my dearest love was presented strongly to my mind, as speaking again those words, Polly, do not let us look for signs; let us leave ourselves in the hand of God. I felt an immediate light of faith, and throwing the paper out of my hand, I took up the Bible, intending to read, and for the present to drop every other thought. It opened on those words: God shall choose our inheritance for us. All my spirit acquiesced, and I answered, Yea, Lord! Thou hast chosen for my dear the bright mansions above; and thou wilt choose for me all my wanderings below. There seemed for a moment such a communion opened between the family below and that above, as I cannot express.

Soon after this I received a message from Mr. Kenerson, letting me know that I should never be turned out of the house, but might rent it; which I received as an answer from the Lord directing my way. It also brought to my mind a dream I had some years before I married. I dreamed a man came to me to offer me some tithes. I replied, Friend, I have nothing to do with tithes—I have no concern in any living. But soon after, I said to one of my family, Hannah, I am going away; I have a call from the Lord; I must go. But again I thought, I know not where, not even into what country. However, the way of duty is the way of safety. I will set out, and God will lead me. Immediately I left Cross Hall, and after walking a few paces, I thought I was carried in a moment, I knew not how, and set down in a churchyard—and some one said to me, You are to enter into this church. I went in, and walking up the aisle, I heard a kind of groan, and said, That is the sound of death. When I came out of the church, I entered into a house which was just by it. As I was on the steps, it was said inwardly to me, This is the habitation which God hath chosen for you. I answered, O no; I cannot live here. It is the order of God for me to live in Yorkshire. I went into some of the rooms, and found in one I passed through a man and woman. In the next was a young woman with a child on her lap. She appeared dying of a consumption, and in great conflicts. We soon entered into conversation, and she seemed very spiritual. After a time she told me I must come and live here, and here abide. I replied, O no; I live at Cross Hall, in Yorkshire; and have a great family and many calls there. But, said she, it is the will of God to bring you here. There is work for you to do. She added, Do not be frightened; God will make you a comfortable habitation. I said, Have you the Gospel here She replied, Yes. And who, said I, is the minister that brought it among you She replied, He is not here now. Then who, said I, is your present minister She showed me a name of three syllables;—but though I read it over and over, I could only remember the two last— nerson. I felt myself in great anguish and sorrow of mind, (though I could not assign any cause,) and said, I must go away, I cannot stay here. I do not know that man and woman. I cannot live with them. She replied, That man and woman will go away when you come. But here is a work for you to do, and you must abide here. Do not be frightened; God will make you a comfortable habitation. Being determined, however, to return home, I went down stairs, and seeing a coach ready to be hired, I beckoned to it; the man opened the door, and as I was stepping in, he said, Where will you be carried to I strove to say, Cross Hall, in Yorkshire, but could not. Then I strove to name various habitations I had formerly lived in, but could remember the name of none. As he still persevered in his questions, I at last stepped back, and pointing to the house I came out of, I said, That is my home, and God hath taken the remembrance of every other out of my heart.

I knew nothing of the situation of any thing in Madeley when I had this dream; but when, some years after, I told it to my dear Mr. Fletcher, he said, There was a man and woman who lived with me at that time—and a young woman, A. C., who was very useful in the work, to which she proved a nursing mother. She died of a consumption, in which she had many conflicts. I said, Was there a minister here whose name ended with nerson He replied. No. But now I understand it all. Had I before remembered the whole name, I should at once have known this dream would be fulfilled at my dear husband’s death, as Mr. Kenerson was the patron, and his son now became our vicar. My dear Mr. Fletcher always said, if he died, he believed I was to stay here ;—and there are some circumstances which reconcile me so to do.

First,—I never was in any situation in which I had so much opportunity of doing good, (according to my small abilities,) as in this place, and that in various ways, public and private; and to many who live at a distance also. These are providentially thrown in my way, and I find such clear leadings of the Spirit in conversing with them, that (painful as many circumstances are) I am constrained to say, If I choose for the work of God, here I must abide and fix my home.*

Secondly,—Here I have a great many sweet, lively souls to converse with. My meetings are more satisfactory to myself than in any place I ever yet was in; and still I feel it suited to me, as a soil which my soul grows in.

Thirdly,—It suits my temporal affairs; this house

At the last conference which Mr. Fletcher attended, viz., at Leeds, August, 1784, (about a year before his death,) I had the privilege of sitting very near him. About the middle of the conference he rose, and addressed Mr. Wesley respecting his parish. He said, I fear my Successor will not be interested in the work of God, and my flock may suffer. I have done what I could; 1 have built a chapel in Madeley Wood, and I hope, sir, you will continue to supply it, and that Madeley may still be part of the circuit. If you please, I should be glad to be put down in the minutes as a supernumerary! Mr. Wesley could hardly bear this, and the preachers were melted into tears. Turning to them, Mr. Fletcher expressed his hope that they would feed his sheep, and nourish them with the same truths which they had been used to hear, How wonderfully did the Lord provide for them when he was pleased to remove their angelic pastor! My dear, said be to Mrs. Fletcher, when you marry me, you must marry my parish. She did so; and as the new vicar did not reside, and as he had a great respect for Mrs. Fletcher, she was allowed to recommend the curate, whom the vicar invariably appointed, according to that recommendation. The work of God has thus continued, and proceeded for thirty years in peace. May it never be interrupted! - ED

being cheap, and several other circumstances also are advantageous.

Fourthly,—I never found any other part agree as well with my health as this has done. From a child I could never live in London, nor in any close place; and here I have had better health than ever before :-only at this season, I find the waves of sorrow have thrown me some paces nearer my eternal home. Truly, also, that part of my dream (the sound of death) hath been accomplished in all its pomp!

Would any know the king of terrors Let them took on the corpse of a beloved husband, or tender friend, and there discern the consequences of sin! For a believer to look at death, as seizing on himself, has comparatively no terror! In the midst of the most pleasant scene my life had ever exhibited, I sometimes said, I think, my love, I am selfish: it seems as if I should not fear to die and leave thee! I am deeply sensible, however, of all the pain thou wouldst feel. Yet it seems as if we should not be divided even by death. But now the scene is turned! It is my eyes that must for ever have before them that tremendous night. O! what do I feel! Thy will, O Lord, be done!

From this time I have been more and more convinced, my inheritance is appointed of the Lord, and that this is the spot I am to fix on, at least for the present; and I rather believe I shall change no more,—but that where he died, I shall die also. During this heavy night of sorrow, (attended with such aggravating circumstances as it is not needful to explain,) I have also seen an amazing mixture of the tender care and fatherly protection of my God. He withholds his rough wind in the day of his east wind; and will lay no more on his poor creatures than his power and goodness will enable them to bear. I know, assuredly, that my bereavement was wrought for the good of my soul. I am, notwithstanding my inward trials, and deep sensibility of my loss, truly enabled to praise God even for the severity of the stroke. Yes, I love his will, I love his cross! I am, I will be devoted to his glory! And if that can be promoted by my keen anguish, I will delight in suffering all his wisdom shall appoint!

I see also the goodness of the Lord in our bringing Sally Lawrence with us here. The day we were married, as soon as we returned from the church, and went up stairs to ask a blessing on our union, she came into the room, and falling on her knees before my dear husband, she entreated him not to part her from her dear mistress, who had brought her up. He told her he never would; and now she is made to me a great comfort, having all the usefulness of a housekeeper, added to the affection of the tenderest child.

The Lord has also answered my dear husband’s prayers with regard to the work of

the Lord, beyond all expectation. When he repeatedly expressed his desire that I should stay here, I replied, O how can I bear the place without thee How can I bear to stay, and see perhaps a carnal ministry He answered, Thou dost not know what God may do. Perhaps there may never be a carnal ministry here. And so it proved. The Rev. Mr. Gilpin and his wife, being on the spot, were at that season kind and tender friends to me, and Mr. Kenerson desired him to supply the church till he should return to his own living, which was not for some months. The Lord then provided for us a precious young man, Mr. Melville Horne, who had travelled some time in connection with Mr. Wesley; and concerning whom my dear Mr. Fletcher had (before his illness) expressed a desire that he might be his successor. We have also the Methodist preachers, and their labours are blessed. Brotherly love takes root, and flourishes among us. The work goes on well; fresh converts are continually brought in, and several have with flowing eyes declared, that the words they once slighted, now seem to rise in judgment against them. They bow to the truth, and are, constrained to acknowledge, concerning their deceased pastor, He being dead, yet speaketh.

The Lord hath also looked on my temporal affairs, beyond what I could have expected. I observed, soon after my marriage, that all was now made quite easy. I looked on the promise as already fulfilled, having in Layton a good deal more than would pay all. Some hundreds were however still on interest, though we had lessened the sum while my dear and I were together. But soon after he was taken from me, I received a letter from a person of whom I had borrowed some years before a hundred and fifty pounds, that he wanted it directly; and I had at this season a good deal to pay on other accounts. As I wished to be free, for the remainder of my short days, from unnecessary care, I had a desire that the estate at Laytonstone should be sold, and the demands all settled at once. I found, however, that could not be done without loss, and therefore proposed to pay yearly all I could out of my income, which was now increased by the tender care of my dear husband. But my youngest brother, William Bosanquet, whom I had not seen for some years, came down on a visit to me. He expressed the greatest sympathy and tenderness toward me in this time of trial; and, after staying with me some days, generously supplied me with all the cash I then needed. Some months after, an uncle dying without leaving me any thing, (and indeed I did not think I had any right to expect it,) my brothers wrote me word, that they were sorry I was not remembered in the will; and say youngest brother desired me to accept of five hundred pounds (or more if I wanted it) to settle all my affairs. Here was the exact fulfilment of Mrs. Clapham’s impression concerning us! [see page 135.] This very brother whom she then saw, (though at that time there was not the least reason to think of any such thing,) did afterward, as it was represented to her, bring me many smaller sums, and at last one so large as to remove all burdens at once from my shoulders! And on January, 1787, I wrote in my diary, I now owe no man any thing but love: my income is quite clear, and I have, according to the promise, great plenty of silver.

The Life Of Mrs. Mary Fletcher - Part The Fifth

Chapter Five