Chapter XXX: Part 30

To the same effect is his sermon on “No man taketh this honour unto himself, but he that is called of God, as was Aaron,”--a sermon which he wrote at Cork, in May 1789, and published in his magazine, twelve months afterwards. He correctly maintains that, in ancient times, the offices of priest and preacher were entirely distinct. Priests were not preachers; and preachers, or prophets, were not priests. He argues that, in the New Testament, the office of an evangelist is not the same as that of a pastor. Pastors presided over the flock, and administered the sacraments; evangelists helped them, and preached the word. He asserts that the same distinction is recognised in the English, presbyterian, and Roman churches; and then, coming to Methodism, tells his readers that Methodist itinerant preachers are evangelists, not pastors; and that their work is wholly and solely to preach, not to administer sacraments. His address to them is worth quoting.

“God has commissioned you to call sinners to repentance; but it
does by no means follow from hence, that ye are commissioned to
baptize, or to administer the Lord’s supper. Ye never dreamt of
this, for ten or twenty years after ye began to preach. Ye did
not then, like _Korah Dathan_, and _Abiram_, _seek the
priesthood also_. Ye knew, ‘No man taketh this honour to
himself, but he that is called of God, as was Aaron.’ O contain
yourselves within your own bounds. Be content with preaching
the gospel. Do the work of evangelists. I earnestly advise you,
abide in your place; keep your own station. Ye were fifty years
ago,--those of you that were then Methodist
preachers,--_extraordinary messengers_ of God, not going in
your own will, but _thrust out_, not to supersede, but to
_provoke to jealousy_ the _ordinary messengers_. In God’s name,
stop there! Both, by your preaching and example, provoke them
to love and good works. Ye are a new phenomenon in the earth; a
body of people, who, being of no sect or party, are friends to
all parties, and endeavour to forward all, in the knowledge and
love of God and man. Ye yourselves were, at first, called in
the Church of England; and though ye have and will have a
thousand temptations to leave it, regard them not. Be Church of
_England_ men still. Do not cast away the peculiar glory which
God hath put upon you, and frustrate the design of Providence,
the very end for which God raised you up.”

In reply to the charge that he himself had already separated from the Church, Wesley allows, that he deviated from the rules of the Church in “preaching abroad,” in “praying extempore,” in forming societies, and in employing lay preachers; but he adds:

“All this is not separating from the Church. So far from it,
that, whenever I have opportunity, I attend the Church service
myself, and advise all our societies so to do. Nevertheless,
the generality even of religious people naturally think, ‘I am
inconsistent.’ And they cannot but think so, unless they
observe my two principles. The one, that I dare not separate
from the Church, that I believe it would be a sin so to do; the
other, that I believe it would be a sin not to _vary_ from it
in the points above mentioned. I say, put these two principles
together, first, I will not _separate_ from the Church; yet,
secondly, in cases of necessity, I will _vary_ from it; and
inconsistency vanishes away. I have been true to my profession
from 1730 to this day.”

Here we leave the matter. This is the last time we shall quote Wesley on separation from the Church. We care not either to vindicate or to condemn his thoughts and course of conduct. In a few lines, Wesley here says all that can be said in favour of the anomalous position in which he stood: he did not _separate_, but he _varied_ from the Church of England. It will be difficult for either sophistry or sound argument to make either more or less than this of the vexed question,--the difference between Wesley’s profession and his practice in reference to his continued adherence to, or separation from, the Established Church. He lived and died a hearty, but inconsistent Churchman.

There is another point which must be mentioned. The reader has already seen Wesley’s intense anxiety in reference to rich Methodists. In the last fourteen sermons that he wrote, during the last two years of his eventful life, and which were, for the first time, published in the magazines for 1790, 1791, and 1792, he again and again, in the strongest and most affecting language, reverts to this momentous matter. Exception may be taken to his opinions; but they are worthy of being quoted. They are the last sentiments of an old man, with unparalleled experience; and, throughout a long life, were by himself reduced to practice. The following are extracts.

In the remarkable sermon, on Jeremiah viii. 22, written in Dublin, July 2, 1789, in which he tries to answer the question, “Why has Christianity done so little good in the world?” he writes:

“Who regards those solemn words, _Lay not up for yourselves
treasures upon earth_? Of the three rules, which are laid down
on this head, in the sermon on _The Mammon of Unrighteousness_,
you may find many that observe the first rule, namely, _Gain
all you can_. You may find a few that observe the second, _Save
all you can_. But how many have you found, that observe the
third rule, _Give all you can_? Have you reason to believe,
that five hundred of these are to be found among fifty thousand
_Methodists_? And, yet, nothing can be more plain, than that
all who observe the two first rules, without the third, will be
twofold more the children of hell than ever they were before.

“O that God would enable me once more, before I go hence and am
no more seen, to lift up my voice like a trumpet to those who
_gain_ and _save_ all they can, but do not _give_ all they can!
Ye are the men, some of the chief men, who continually grieve
the Holy Spirit of God, and, in a great measure, stop His
gracious influence from descending on our assemblies. Many of
your brethren, beloved of God, have not food to eat; they have
not raiment to put on; they have not a place where to lay their
head. And why are they thus distressed? Because _you_
impiously, unjustly, and cruelly detain from them what your
Master and theirs lodges in _your_ hands, on purpose to supply
_their_ wants. In the name of God, what are you doing? Do you
neither fear God, nor regard man? Why do you not deal your
bread to the hungry? And cover the naked with a garment? Have
you laid out, in your own costly apparel, what would have
answered both these intentions? Did God command you so to do?
Does He commend you for so doing? Did He entrust you with
_His_,--not _your_,--goods for this end? And does He now say,
‘Servant of God, well done’? You well know He does not. This
idle expense has no approbation, either from God or your own
conscience. But, you say, ‘You can _afford_ it!’ O be ashamed
to take such miserable nonsense into your mouths. Never more
utter such stupid cant, such palpable absurdity! Can any
steward _afford_ to be an arrant knave? to waste his lord’s
goods? Can any servant _afford_ to lay out his master’s money,
any otherwise than his master appoints him? So far from it,
that whoever does this ought to be excluded from a Christian
society.

“I am distressed. I know not what to do. I see what I might
have done once. I might have said peremptorily and expressly,
‘Here I am: I and my Bible. I will not, I dare not, vary from
this book, either in great things or small. I have no power to
dispense with one jot or tittle of what is contained therein. I
am determined to be a Bible Christian, not almost but
altogether. Who will meet me on this ground? Join me on this,
or not at all.’ With regard to dress in particular, I might
have been as firm, (and I now see it would have been far
better,) as either the people called quakers, or the Moravian
brethren. I might have said, ‘This is _our_ manner of dress,
which we know is both scriptural and rational. If you join with
us, you are to dress as we do: but you need not join us unless
you please.’ But alas! the time is now past. And what I can do
now, I cannot tell. The Methodists grow more and more self
indulgent, because they _grow rich_. Although many of them are
still deplorably poor (_Tell it not in Gath; publish it not in
the streets of Askelon!_), yet many others, in the space of
twenty, thirty, or forty years, are twenty, thirty, yea, a
hundred times richer than they were when they first entered the
society. And it is an observation which admits of few
exceptions, that nine in ten of these decreased in grace, in
the same proportion as they increased in wealth. Indeed,
according to the natural tendency of riches, we cannot expect
it to be otherwise.

“But how astonishing a thing is this! Does it not seem (and yet
this cannot be!) that true scriptural Christianity has a
tendency, in process of time, to undermine and destroy itself?
For, wherever it spreads, it must cause diligence and
frugality, which, in the natural course of things, beget
riches. And riches naturally beget pride, love of the world,
and every temper that is destructive to Christianity. Now, if
there be no way to prevent this, Christianity is inconsistent
with itself, and, of consequence, cannot stand, cannot long
continue among any people; since, wherever it generally
prevails, it saps its own foundation.

“But, allowing that diligence and frugality must produce
riches, is there no means to hinder riches destroying the
religion of those that possess them? I can see only one
possible way; find out another who can. Do you gain all you
can, and save all you can? Then you must, in the nature of
things, grow rich. Then if you have any desire to escape the
damnation of hell, _give_ all you can; otherwise I can have no
more hope of your salvation, than for that of Judas Iscariot.

“I call God to record upon my soul, that I advise no more than
I practise. I do, blessed be God, gain, and save, and give all
I can. And so, I trust in God, I shall do, while the breath of
God is in my nostrils. But what then? I count all things but
loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus, my Lord!
Still

‘I give up every plea beside,
Lord, I am damned! but Thou hast died!’”[766]

To the same effect is Wesley’s searching and terrible sermon, on the Rich Fool, written at Balham, February 19, 1790; and another written at Bristol, September 21, 1790, on the text, “If riches increase, set not thine heart upon them.” In the latter sermon, he writes:

“By whatsoever means thy riches increase, whether with or
without labour; whether by trade, legacies, or any other way,
unless thy charities increase in the same proportion,--unless
thou givest a full tenth of thy substance, of thy fixed and
occasional income, thou dost undoubtedly set thy heart upon thy
gold, and it will _eat thy flesh as fire_.

“But O! who can convince a rich man, that he sets his heart
upon riches? For considerably above half a century, I have
spoken on this head, with all the plainness that was in my
power. But with how little effect? I doubt whether I have, in
all that time, convinced fifty misers of covetousness.

“I have a message from God unto thee, O rich man, whether thou
wilt hear, or whether thou wilt forbear. Riches have increased
with thee; at the peril of thy soul, _set not thine heart upon
them_. Be thankful to Him that gave thee such a talent, so much
power of doing good. Yet dare not to rejoice over them, but
with fear and trembling.

“Let us descend to particulars; and see that each of you deal
faithfully with his own soul. If any of you have now twice,
thrice, or four times as much substance as when you first saw
my face, faithfully examine yourselves, and see if you do not
set your hearts, if not directly on riches themselves, yet, on
some of the things that are purchaseable thereby, which comes
to the same thing. Do you not _eat_ more plentifully or more
delicately than you did ten or twenty years ago? Do not you use
more _drink_, or drink of a more _costly_ kind, than you did
then? Do you sleep on as hard a bed as you did once, suppose
your health will bear it? Do you _fast_ as often now you are
rich, as you did when you were poor? Ought you not in all
reason to do this, rather more often than more seldom? I am
afraid, your own heart condemns you. You are not clear in this
matter.

“Do not some of you seek no small part of happiness in that
trifle of trifles, dress? Do not you bestow more money, or,
which is the same, more time and pains upon it, than you did
once? I doubt this is not done to please God. Then it pleases
the devil. If you laid aside your needless ornaments, some
years since, ruffles, necklaces, spider caps, ugly, unbecoming
bonnets, costly linen, expensive laces, have you not, in
defiance of religion and reason, taken to them again?

“After having served you between sixty and seventy years, with
dim eyes, shaking hands, and tottering feet, I give you one
more advice before I sink into the dust. Mark those words of
St. Paul, _Those that desire_, or endeavour, _to be rich_, that
moment, _fall into temptation_; yea, a deep gulf of temptation,
out of which nothing less than Almighty power can deliver them.
Permit me to come a little closer still: perhaps I may not
trouble you any more on this head. I am pained for you that are
_rich in this world_. Do you give all you can? You who receive
£500 a year, and spend only £200, do you give £300 back to God?
If not, you certainly rob God of that £300. ‘Nay, may I not do
what I will with _my own_?’ Here lies the ground of your
mistake. It is not your _own_. It cannot be, unless you are
Lord of heaven and earth. ‘However, I must provide for my
children.’ Certainly. But how? By making them rich? When you
will probably make them heathens, as some of you have done
already. Leave them enough to live on, not in idleness and
luxury, but by honest industry. And if you have not children,
upon what scriptural or rational principle can you leave a
groat behind you, more than will bury you? I pray consider:
What are you the better for what you leave behind you? What
does it signify, whether you leave behind you ten thousand
pounds, or ten thousand shoes and boots? Oh, leave nothing
behind you! Send all you have before you into a better world!
Lend it, lend it all unto the Lord, and it shall be paid you
again! Is there any danger that _His_ truth should fail? It is
fixed as the pillars of heaven. Haste, haste, my brethren,
haste! lest you be called away, before you have settled what
you have, on this security!”[767]

To say the least, this was plain speaking, such as is seldom heard at present; the following, in the sermon on Matthew vi. 22, 23, written at Bristol, September 25, 1789, is terrific.

“How great is the darkness of that execrable wretch (I can give
him no better title, be he rich or poor), who will sell his own
child to the devil! who will barter her own eternal happiness,
for any quantity of gold or silver! What a monster would any
man be accounted, who devoured the flesh of his own offspring!
And is he not as great a monster, who, by his own act and deed,
gives her to be devoured by that roaring lion? As he certainly
does (so far as is in his power), who marries her to an ungodly
man. ‘But he is rich; he has £10,000!’ What if it were
£100,000? The more the worse; the less probability will she
have of escaping the damnation of hell. With what face wilt
thou look upon her, when she tells thee in the realms below,
‘Thou hast plunged me into this place of torment! Hadst thou
given me to a good man, however poor, I might now have been in
Abraham’s bosom!’

“Are any of you, that are called Methodists, seeking to marry
your children well (as the cant phrase is), that is, to sell
them to some purchaser, that has much money, but little or no
religion? Have _ye_ profited no more by all ye have heard? Man,
woman, think what you are about. Dare _you_ also sell your
child to the devil? You undoubtedly do this (as far as in you
lies), when you marry a son or a daughter to a child of the
devil, though it be one that wallows in gold and silver. O take
warning in time! Beware of the gilded bait! Death and hell are
hid beneath. Prefer grace before gold and precious stones;
glory in heaven, to riches on earth! If you do not, you are
worse than the very Canaanites. They only made their children
_pass through the fire_ to Moloch. You make yours _pass into
the fire_ that never shall be quenched, and _to stay in it for
ever_. O how great is the darkness that causes you, after you
have done this, _to wipe your mouth and say, you have done no
evil_!

“Upwards of fifty years, I have ministered unto you. I have
been your servant for Christ’s sake. During this time, I have
given you many solemn warnings on this head. I now give you one
more, perhaps the last. Dare any of you, in choosing your
calling or situation, eye the things on earth, rather than the
things above? In choosing a profession or a companion of life
for your child, do you look at earth or heaven? And can you
deliberately prefer, either for yourself or your offspring, a
child of the devil with money, to a child of God without it?
Repent, repent of your vile earthly mindedness! Renounce the
title of Christians; or prefer, both in your own case and the
case of your children, grace to money, and heaven to earth. For
the time to come, at least, _let your eye be single_, that your
_whole body may be full of light_!”

These were Wesley’s last words to the Methodists. The extracts are long; but, in this money making, mammon worshipping, intensely worldly age, they may be useful.

The other sermons, published in the last year of Wesley’s life, and in the year subsequent to his death, are well worthy of the reader’s notice. That on “Knowing Christ after the flesh” is perhaps the only one, in the English language, on such a subject. That on the text, “There is one God,” is characteristically thoughtful, keen, logical, and evangelical. That on “Walking by Faith,” terse, vigorous, earnest, practical, and terribly faithful. That on “The Wedding Garment,” an excellent exposition of an often ill used text. That on “The Deceitfulness of the Human Heart” is one which none but a man like Wesley could have preached. That on “Atheism,” ingenious, searching, and powerful. That on “The Treasure in Earthen Vessels,” simple and beautiful. While that on “Life like a Dream” was being printed on the very day when Wesley’s corpse lay in the chapel in City Road; and that on “Faith, the evidence of things not seen,” was the last he ever wrote, and was finished only six weeks previous to his death.

Both the last mentioned deserve quoting. They are the profoundly interesting musings of an old man, conscious that he must soon enter the spiritual and unseen world. Imagining a disembodied soul before him, he thus soliloquises.

“Now that your eyes are open, see how inexpressibly different
are all the things that are now around you! What a difference
do you perceive in yourself! Where is your body? Your house of
clay? Where are your limbs? your hands, your feet, your head?
There they lie; cold, insensible! What a change is in the
immortal spirit! You see everything around you: but how? Not
with eyes of flesh and blood! You hear; but not by a stream of
undulating air, striking on an extended membrane. You feel; but
in how wonderful a manner! You have no nerves to convey the
ethereal fire to the common sensory; rather are you not now all
eye, all ear, all feeling, all perception?”

Again, in his last, the sermon on faith:

“How will this material universe appear to a disembodied
spirit? Who can tell whether any of these objects, that now
surround us, will appear the same as they do now? What
astonishing scenes will then discover themselves to our newly
opening senses! Probably fields of ether, not only tenfold, but
ten thousand fold, ‘the length of this terrene.’ And with what
variety of furniture, animate and inanimate! How many orders of
beings, not discovered by organs of flesh and blood! Perhaps
‘thrones, dominions, principalities, and, powers!’ And shall we
not then, as far as angels’ ken, survey the bounds of creation,
and see every place where the Almighty

‘Stopped His rapid wheels, and said,
This be thy just circumference, O world!’

Yea, shall we not be able to move, quick as thought, through
the wide realms of uncreated night? Above all, the moment we
step into eternity, shall we not feel ourselves swallowed up of
Him, who is in this and every place, who filleth heaven and
earth? It is only the veil of flesh and blood which now hinders
us from perceiving, that the great Creator cannot but fill the
whole immensity of space; He is every moment above us, beneath
us, and on every side. Indeed, in this dark abode, this land of
shadows, this region of sin and death, the thick cloud, which
is interposed between, conceals Him from our sight. But then
the veil will disappear, and He will appear in unclouded
majesty, God over all, blessed for ever!”

The blessed old man already had glimpses of the shining ones, and of the gates of that celestial city, into which, six weeks after these words were written, he triumphantly entered.

FOOTNOTES:

[700] Life of Wesley, vol. ii., p. 380.

[701] _Methodist Magazine_, 1830, p. 251.

[702] Dunn’s Life of Clarke, p. 72.

[703] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 105.

[704] Pawson’s manuscripts.

[705] Moore’s sermon.

[706] _Methodist Magazine_, 1832, p. 594.

[707] Benson’s Life, by Macdonald, p. 209.

[708] Dunn’s Life of Clarke, pp. 72, 73.

[709] _Methodist Magazine_, 1845, p. 119.

[710] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 113.

[711] “Methodism in Preston,” p. 44.

[712] Cutler’s Life, p. 5.

[713] _Methodist Magazine_, 1792, p. 66.

[714] “Methodism in Halifax,” p. 181.

[715] See page 472 of this volume.

[716] _Methodist Magazine_, 1845, p. 121.

[717] _Methodist Magazine_, 1795, p. 423.

[718] Moore’s Life, p. 89.

[719] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 94.

[720] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 105.

[721] Kilham’s Life, by Blackwell, p. 114.

[722] _Methodist Magazine_, 1836, p. 494.

[723] Black’s Memoirs, p. 265.

[724] Moore’s Life of Wesley, vol. ii., p. 384.

[725] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 139.

[726] Dunn’s Life of Clarke, p. 73.

[727] Ought it not to be sixty-eight.

[728] An error occurred in the first edition of this
volume, on page 224. It was there stated, that Wesley
received £60 a year; it ought to have been £30.
According to the old circuit book, at City Road, it
was the custom to pay him £15 in the first quarter of
each year, and £15 in the last.

[729] Now his steward.

[730] The sentence is unfinished.

[731] Samuel Bradburn remarks: “I know that, from the
conference of 1780 to the conference of 1781, he gave
away, in _private charities_, above £1400. He told me
himself, in 1787, that he never gave away, out of his
own pocket, less than £1000 a year.” Bradburn adds:
“He never relieved poor people in the street, but he
either took off, or removed, his hat to them, when
they thanked him.”

[732] _Methodist Magazine_, 1825, p. 25.

[733] Ibid. 1828, p. 741; and _Christian Miscellany_, 1847,
p. 173.

[734] _Methodist Magazine_, 1792, p. 288.

[735] Ibid. 1856, p. 234.

[736] Ibid. 1845, p. 123.

[737] Clarke’s Life, vol. i., p. 277.

[738] _Methodist Magazine_, 1847, p. 211.

[739] _Methodist Magazine_, 1837, p. 11.

[740] The assistant in Chatham circuit.

[741] The wife of Charles Boone, the assistant in
Canterbury circuit.

[742] _Local Preachers’ Magazine_, 1851, p. 75.

[743] _Methodist Magazine_, 1847, p. 656.

[744] _Wesleyan Times_, June 11, 1866.

[745] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 98.

[746] _Wesleyan Times_, June 11, 1866.

[747] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 8.

[748] This was done with the approbation of the London
stewards, who paid £1 19_s._ for the carriages and
expenses. (City Road society book.)

[749] Life of James Rogers, p. 44.

[750] Life of James Rogers, p. 44.

[751] _Youth’s Instructor_, 1833, p. 330.

[752] _Methodist Magazine_, 1841, p. 1.

[753] Ibid.

[754] “Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence of Henry
Crabb Robinson,” vol. i., p. 20.

[755] Crabbe’s Life.

[756] _Methodist Magazine_, 1856, p. 203.

[757] Reynolds’ “Anecdotes of Wesley,” p. 39.

[758] _Methodist Magazine_, 1846, p. 1189.

[759] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 113.

[760] Merely in the circuits above mentioned (a fraction
of the Dales circuit) there are, at present, 7819
members. (See Minutes of Conference, 1870.)

[761] Circuit manuscript books.

[762] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 109.

[763] Sigston’s Life of Bramwell.

[764] Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 99.

[765] Manuscript letter, kindly lent by Charles Reed, Esq.,
M.P.

[766] _Methodist Magazine_, 1790, pp. 348, 400, etc.

[767] _Methodist Magazine_, 1792, p. 341, etc.

1791.
Age 88

Only two months of Wesley’s eventful life are left unnarrated. The following letters, belonging to this period, will be read with interest.

The first was addressed to Adam Clarke, who, in Dublin, had buried his eldest daughter, and was himself dangerously afflicted with rheumatic affection in the head.[768]

“_January 3, 1791._

“DEAR ADAM,--You startle me when you talk of grieving so much
for the death of an infant. This is certainly a proof of
inordinate affection; and, if you love them _thus_, all your
children will die. How did Mr. De Renty behave when he supposed
his wife to be dying? There is a pattern for a Christian.

“But you forget to send me anything about magnetism. John
Bredin is a weak brother: let him not complain. He behaved ill
both at Jersey and Guernsey; but let him behave well now, and
that will be forgotten. I wish my dear sister Clarke and you
many happy years; and am, dear Adam, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[769]

The next has not before been published. It was written to Thomas Taylor, then in the Hull circuit. Dr. King was made archbishop of Dublin in 1702, and died in 1729. He was author of “_De Origine Mali_,” written to prove, that the existence of natural and moral evil is not incompatible with the power and goodness of the Deity, and may be accounted for without the supposition of an evil principle.

“LONDON, _January 6, 1791_.

“DEAR TOMMY,--With regard to the powerful workings of the
Spirit, I think those words of our Lord are chiefly to be
understood: ‘The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou
hearest the sound thereof,’ (thou art sure of the fact,) ‘but
canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth.’

“Make your yearly subscription when you see best, only take
care it does not interfere with any other subscription.

“The tract of Archbishop King has been particularly admired by
many persons of excellent sense. I do not admire it so much as
they do; but I like it well. Yet, I have corrected a far better
tract on the same subject, perhaps, the last I shall have to
publish.[770]

“Indeed, I hope I shall not live to be useless. I wish you and
yours many happy years, and am, dear Tommy, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

The next letter, addressed to Miss Bolton of Witney, contains an important reference to Wesley’s state of health.

“LONDON, _January 12, 1791_.

“MY DEAR NANCY,--I thank you for your welcome present, and
rejoice to hear that your health is better. What is it, which
is good for us, that our Lord will not give, if we can but
trust Him?

“These four last days, I have had better health than I had for
several months before. Only my sight continues much as it was.
But good is the will of the Lord.

“I am, dear Nancy, affectionately yours,

“J. WESLEY.”[771]

The following was addressed to the wife of Adam Clarke, and refers to her husband’s serious affliction, as well as to the loss of their daughter.

“LONDON, _January 18, 1791_.

“MY DEAR SISTER,--Before this time, I hope God has heard
prayer, and given brother Clarke a little more ease. I should
suspect a dropsy in the brain, which, though formerly judged
incurable, has lately been cured.

“Both brother Clarke and you have large proofs that whom the
Lord loveth He chasteneth. He knoweth the way whence you go;
when you have been tried, you shall come forth as gold.

“I wonder at the folly of Mr. V. Surely, he is a very weak man.
But I shall judge better when I have seen his performances.
Peace be multiplied again!

“I am, my dear sister, ever yours,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[772]

John Booth was now assistant in Keighley circuit, and to him was addressed the following.

“LONDON, _January 29, 1791_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,--You give me a very agreeable account of the
progress of the work of God in your circuit. As to the poor,
self conceited enthusiasts in Keighley, it seems best that you
should never name them in public; but, when occasion offers,
strike at the root of their errors, by clearly proving the
truth which they deny. And whenever you meet with any of them
in private, then speak and spare not. Whenever you have
opportunity of speaking to believers, urge them to go on to
perfection. Spare no pains; and God, even our own God, still
give you His blessing!

“I am, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[773]

Miss Cambridge was an Irish Methodist, twenty-nine years of age, and had established meetings in various parts of the town of Bandon, at which she prayed and occasionally exhorted. She had also held similar meetings at Kinsale, Youghal, and other places. Many of the Methodists, and some of the Methodist preachers, pronounced her public addresses to be entirely irregular, and what ought not to be tolerated in the Christian church. She wrote to Wesley for advice; and received the following reply,--Wesley’s last utterance on female preaching.

“LONDON, _January 31, 1791_.

“MY DEAR SISTER,--I received your letter an hour ago. I thank
you for writing so largely and so freely; do so always to me as
your friend, as one that loves you well. Mr. Barber has the
glory of God at heart; and so have his fellow labourers. Give
them all honour, and obey them in all things as far as
conscience permits. But it will not permit you to be silent
when God commands you to speak; yet, I would have you give as
little offence as possible; and, therefore, I would advise you
not to speak at any place where a preacher is speaking at the
same time, lest you should draw away his hearers. Also, avoid
the first appearance of pride or magnifying yourself. If you
want books, or anything, let me know; I have your happiness
much at heart. During the little time I have to stay on earth,
pray for,

“Your affectionate brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[774]

Ezekiel Cooper was the son of an officer in the army of the American revolution, and was now twenty-eight years of age, and a Methodist preacher at Annapolis. He was a man of great mental vigour and versatility, almost unequalled in debate, and was called, by the American Methodists, _Lycurgus_, in reference to his profound wisdom. He was a diligent student, and a close observer of men and things, lived a long life of celibacy, was frugal to a fault, left behind him an estate of about fifty thousand dollars, and died in 1847, the oldest Methodist preacher in the world. When he entered the ministry in 1783, the American Methodists numbered eighty-three preachers, and fifteen thousand members; when he died, their ministry numbered five thousand, and their membership above a million.[775] To him Wesley wrote the last letter which he posted to America.

“NEAR LONDON, _February 1, 1791_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,--Those that desire to write, or to say
anything, to me, have no time to lose, for time has shaken me
by the hand, and death is not far behind. But I have reason to
be thankful for the time that is past. I felt few of the
infirmities of old age, for fourscore and six years. It was not
till a year and a half ago, that my strength and my sight
failed. And still I am enabled to scrawl a little, and to
creep, though I cannot run. Probably I should not be able to do
so much, did not many of you assist me by your prayers.

“I have given a distinct account of the work of God, which has
been wrought in Britain and Ireland, for more than half a
century. We want some of you to give us a connected relation,
of what our Lord has been doing in America, since the time that
Richard Boardman accepted the invitation, and left his country
to serve you. See that you never give place to one thought of
separating from your brethren in Europe. Lose no opportunity of
declaring to all men, that the Methodists are one people in all
the world, and that it is their full determination so to
continue,--

‘Though mountains rise, and oceans roll,
To sever us in vain.’

“To the care of our common Lord I commit you, and am your
affectionate friend and brother,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[776]

Such was Wesley’s dying legacy to the transatlantic Methodists.

The next is brief, but full of interest. For many years Wesley had been accustomed to leave London, on, or about, the 1st of March, for what he was accustomed to call his long journey, to the north, or to Ireland. Though so aged and feeble, he fully intended to do the same again; and Henry Moore relates, that, in reference to this, he actually sent his chaise and his horses before him to Bristol, and took places for himself and his friends in the Bath coach; but, almost on the very day when he purposed to begin afresh his “long journey” on earth, the venerable pilgrim left earth for heaven.

“LONDON, _February 6, 1791_.

“DEAR SIR,--On Wednesday, March 17, I purpose, if God permit,
to come from Gloucester to Worcester; and, on Thursday, the
18th, to Stourport. If our friends at Worcester are displeased,
we cannot help it. Wishing you and yours all happiness,

“I am, dear sir, your affectionate servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

The letter was addressed to Mr. York, of Stourport; but was not sent. At the bottom of it is the last line that Wesley ever wrote.

“February 28--This morning I found this in my bureau.”[777]

In a letter, given on page 622, Mr. Thomas Roberts was directed, in an emergency, to leave Bristol for Haverfordwest circuit. He went, and had to encounter difficulties. Wesley now wrote to him as follows.

“LONDON, _February 8, 1791_.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,--Who was it that opposed your reducing the
preachers, in the circuit, to two? and on what pretence? We
must needs reduce all our expenses everywhere as far as
possible. You must never leave off till you carry this point,
and constitute bands in each large society. When the lecture
begins at Carmarthen, it will then be time enough to prevent
any ill effects of it. I am glad to hear your journey home has
not been in vain. My best wishes attend my friends at Traison
and Langwair.

“I am, dear Tommy, yours, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”

The original, from which this is copied, was written by an amanuensis, but is signed in Wesley’s own tremulous handwriting.

We have already seen that Adam Clarke had been dangerously ill in Dublin. In fact, it was reported in England that he was dead; and William Stevens actually preached his funeral sermon in the isle of Jersey. He was now slowly recovering, had entered himself a medical student in Trinity college, Dublin, and had founded a “Strangers’ Friend Society,” like those already instituted in London, and in Bristol.[778] To him Wesley now addressed the following.

“LONDON, _February 9, 1791_.

“DEAR ADAM,--You have great reason to bless God for giving you
strength according to your day. He has indeed supported you in
an uncommon manner under these complicated afflictions. You may
well say, ‘I will put my trust in Thee as long as I live.’ I
will desire Dr. Whitehead thoroughly to consider your case, and
to give us his thoughts upon it. I am not afraid of your doing
too little, but too much. I am in continual danger of this. Do
little at a time, that you may do the more. My love to sisters
Cookman and Boyle, but it is a doubt with me whether I shall
cross the seas any more.

“What preacher was it who first omitted meeting the select
society? I wonder it did not destroy the work!

“You have done right in setting up the strangers’ society: it
is an excellent institution.

“I am quite at a loss concerning Mr. Maddan; I know not what to
think of him. Send me your best thoughts concerning him.

“Let not the excluded preachers by any means creep in again. In
any wise, write, and send me your thoughts on _animal
magnetism_. I set my face against that device of Satan. Two of
our preachers here are in danger of that satanical delusion;
but, if they persist to defend it, I must drop them. I know its
principles full well.

“With much love to your wife, I am, etc.,

“JOHN WESLEY.”[779]

Wesley was quite ready to “cross seas,” as he had already done so often, in his Master’s service; but he might well doubt his ability. Exactly three weeks after writing thus to Adam Clarke, he crossed the dark river of death.

For sixty-five years, Wesley had been an earnest, laborious, self denying, and unceasing preacher of “the glorious gospel of the blessed God”; and, notwithstanding his extreme age and feebleness, he continued in his beloved employ until within seven days of his decease. The following was his last week of public labour.

On Thursday, February 17, he preached at Lambeth, then a thriving suburban village, from the text, “Labour not for the meat which perisheth; but for that which endureth to everlasting life.” Returning home, he seemed to be unwell, and said he had taken cold.

Friday the 18th, he read and wrote as usual, dined at Mr. Urling’s, and preached at Chelsea, in the evening, from the words, “The king’s business requireth haste.” Once or twice he was obliged to stop, and to tell the people that his cold so affected his voice as to prevent his speaking without these necessary pauses. He had, as usual, arranged to meet the classes for the renewal of their tickets; but was persuaded to leave this part of his work to his companions, James Rogers, and Joseph Bradford.

Saturday, the 19th, was principally employed in reading and writing. The following was addressed to Mrs. Susanna Knapp, of Worcester, and shows his unquenchable Christian ardour.

“LONDON, _February 19, 1791_.

“MY DEAR SUKY,--As the state of my health is exceeding
wavering, and waxes worse, I cannot yet lay down any plans for
my future journeys. Indeed, I propose, if God permit, to set
out for Bristol on the 28th instant; but how much further I
shall be able to go, I cannot yet determine. If I am pretty
well, I hope to be at Worcester about the 22nd of March. To
find you and yours in health of body and mind will be a great
pleasure to,

“My dear Suky, yours affectionately,

“J. WESLEY.” [780]

On the same day, Wesley went out to dinner, at Mrs. Griffith’s, Islington, and, while there, desired a friend to read to him the fourth and three following chapters of the book of Job, containing the speech of Eliphaz, and the answer of Job, and strikingly appropriate to the case of a dying man. After dinner, he purposed to meet the penitents at City Road, but was prevailed on to allow Mr. Brackenbury to take his place.

Next morning (Sunday) he rose, at his usual hour, but was utterly unfit for the sabbath services. At seven o’clock, he was obliged to lie down again; and slept for above three hours. In the afternoon, he had again to go to bed; had another sleep; and then, after two of his own sermons had been read to him, came downstairs to supper.

On Monday, the 21st, he seemed better, and, despite persuasion, would fulfil an engagement he had made to dine at Twickenham. His niece, Miss Sarah Wesley, and Miss Ritchie, went with him. On the way he called upon Lady Mary Fitzgerald, and conversed and prayed most sweetly.

Tuesday, the 22nd, he proceeded with his usual work; dined at Mr. Horton’s, Islington; and preached in City Road chapel, from, “We through the Spirit wait for the hope of righteousness by faith.” After this, he met the leaders.

Wednesday, February 23, he arose at four a.m., as he also did the day following, and, accompanied by Mr. Rogers, set out to Leatherhead, eighteen miles from London, to visit a magistrate, in whose dining room he preached, from “Seek ye the Lord while He may be found; call upon Him while He is near.” This was Wesley’s last sermon.

Thursday, February 24, he spent with his old friend, Mr. Wolff, at Balham, where he was cheerful, and seemed nearly as well as usual.[781]

During the day, he wrote his last letter, which was addressed to Wilberforce, who had brought before parliament the question, which Wesley was one of the first to advocate, the abolition of slavery.

“LONDON, _February 24, 1791_.

“MY DEAR SIR,--Unless the Divine Power has raised you up to be
as Athanasius, _contra mundum_, I see not how you can go
through your glorious enterprise, in opposing that execrable
villainy, which is the scandal of religion, of England, and of
human nature. Unless God has raised you up for this very thing,
you will be worn out by the opposition of men and devils; but,
_if God be for you, who can be against you_? Are all of them
together stronger than God? O! ‘_be not weary in well doing_.’
Go on, in the name of God, and in the power of His might, till
even American slavery, the vilest that ever saw the sun, shall
vanish away before it.

“Reading this morning a tract, wrote by a poor African, I was
particularly struck by that circumstance,--that a man who has a
black skin, being wronged or outraged by a white man, can have
no redress; it being a _law_, in our colonies, that the _oath_
of a black, against a white, goes for nothing. What villainy is
this!

“That He who has guided you, from your youth up, may continue
to strengthen you in this and all things, is the prayer of,
dear sir,

“Your affectionate servant,

“JOHN WESLEY.” [782]

Friday, February 25, Mr. Wolff having brought him home, to City Road, Wesley went upstairs, and requested that, for half an hour, he should be left alone. When the time expired, faithful Joseph Bradford found him so unwell, that he sent for Dr. Whitehead. “Doctor,” said the dying patriarch, “they are more afraid than hurt.”

Saturday, February 26, was principally passed in drowsiness and sleep.

Sunday morning, February 27, he seemed better, got up, sat in his chair, looked cheerful, and repeated, from one of his brother’s hymns,--

“Till glad I lay this body down,
Thy servant, Lord, attend!
And oh! my life of mercy crown
With a triumphant end!”

And then, soon after, with marked emphasis, he said, “Our friend Lazarus sleepeth.” His niece, Miss Wesley, and Miss Ritchie prayed with him. “When at Bristol,” said he, alluding to his illness there in 1753, “my words were,

‘I the chief of sinners am,
But Jesus died for me!’”

Miss Ritchie asked, “Is that your language now?” “Yes,” said he. “Christ is all! He is all!” He then dozed, and sometimes wandered; but, in his wanderings, was always preaching or meeting classes.

On Monday, February 28, his weakness increased. Dr. Whitehead wished for further assistance. Wesley replied: “Dr. Whitehead knows my constitution better than any one. I am quite satisfied, and will have no one else.”[783] Most of the day was spent in sleep. He seldom spoke; but, once, in a wakeful interval, was heard saying, in a low, distinct voice, “There is no way into the holiest, but by the blood of Jesus.” Then referring to the text, “Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though He was rich,” etc., he remarked, with solemn emphasis, “That is the foundation, the only foundation, there is no other.” It was now evident to all, that he was beginning to sleep his last sleep. His friends were intensely anxious and alarmed. Poor, broken hearted, Joseph Bradford despatched notes to the preachers, asking their prayers, in the following terms.

“_February 27, 1791._

“DEAR BROTHER,--Mr. Wesley is very ill: pray! pray! pray!

“I am your affectionate brother,

“JOSEPH BRADFORD.”[784]

All was unavailing. Wesley’s work was ended. On Tuesday, March 1, after a restless night, being asked if he suffered pain, he answered, “No,” and began singing,--

“All glory to God in the sky,
And peace upon earth be restored!
O Jesus, exalted on high,
Appear our omnipotent Lord.
Who, meanly in Bethlehem born,
Didst stoop to redeem a lost race,
Once more to Thy people return,
And reign in Thy kingdom of grace.

Oh, wouldst Thou again be made known,
Again in the Spirit descend;
And set up in each of Thy own
A kingdom that never shall end!
Thou only art able to bless,
And make the glad nations obey,
And bid the dire enmity cease,
And bow the whole world to Thy sway.”

Here, while breathing faith and universal benevolence, his strength failed. “I want to write,” said he. A pen was put into his hand, and paper was placed before him. His hand had forgot its cunning. “I cannot,” said the dying man. “Let me write for you,” remarked Miss Ritchie: “tell me what you wish to say.” “Nothing,” he replied, “but that God is with us.”

“I will get up,” said he; and, while his friends were arranging his clothes, the happy old man again began singing,--

“I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath;
And, when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne’er be past,
While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures.

Happy the man whose hopes rely
On Israel’s God; He made the sky,
And earth, and seas, with all their train;
His truth for ever stands secure,
He saves the’ oppressed, He feeds the poor,
And none shall find His promise vain.”

Once more seated in his chair, he, in a weak voice, said: “Lord, Thou givest strength to those that can speak, and to those that cannot. Speak, Lord, to all our hearts, and let them know that Thou loosest tongues.” And again he began to sing, what proved to be his last song on earth:

“To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Who sweetly all agree.”

But here his voice failed, and, after gasping for breath, he said: “Now we have done. Let us all go.”

Full of happiness, but utterly exhausted, he was put to bed, where, after a short but quiet sleep, he opened his eyes, and, addressing the weeping watchers who stood around him, said, “Pray, and praise!” and, of course, they at once complied. Then he asked Joseph Bradford about the key and contents of his bureau, remarking, “I would have all things ready for my executors. Let me be buried in nothing but what is woollen, and let my corpse be carried in my coffin into the chapel.” And then, as if no other earthly matters required his attention, he again called out, “Pray and praise!” Down fell his friends upon their knees, and fervent were the dying patriarch’s responses, especially to John Broadbent’s prayer, that God would still bless the system of doctrine and discipline, which Wesley had been the means of establishing. On rising, from prayer, each watcher drew near to the bed of the expiring saint, and, with affectionate solicitude, awaited the coming of the shining ones to conduct him home. With the utmost placidity, he saluted each one present, shook hands, and said, “Farewell! farewell!”

Conflict there was none. The scene was the peaceful setting of a glorious sun, undisturbed by the slightest soughing wind, undimmed by the smallest intervening cloud.

He tried to speak; but his friends found it difficult to make out what he meant, except that he wished his sermon on “The Love of God to Fallen Man,” founded on the text, “Not as the offence, so also is the free gift,” to be “scattered abroad, and given to everybody.”[785] Seeing that those around him were at a loss to understand what he tried to say, the grand old Christian gladiator paused; and, summoning, for a final effort, all the little strength he had remaining, he exclaimed, in a tone well-nigh supernatural, “The best of all is, God is with us!” And then, after another pause, and while lifting his arm in grateful triumph, he emphatically reiterated, “The best of all is, God is with us!”

Nature was once more exhausted. Some one wetted his parched lips. “It will not do,” said he; “we must take the consequence. Never mind the poor carcase.”

James Rogers and Thomas Rankin were standing by his bed; but his sight was so nearly gone, that he was unable to recognise their features. “Who are these?” he asked. “Sir,” said Mr. Rogers, “we are come to rejoice with you; you are going to receive your crown.” “It is the Lord’s doing,” replied Wesley, “and it is marvellous in our eyes.”

Being told that his brother’s widow had come to see him, he thanked her, affectionately endeavoured to kiss her, and remarked, “He giveth His servants rest.” She wet his lips; on which he repeated his constant thanksgiving after meals: “We thank Thee, O Lord, for these and all Thy mercies. Bless the Church and king, and grant us truth and peace, through Jesus Christ our Lord, for ever and ever!” Then, pausing a little, he cried, “The clouds drop fatness.” After another pause, “The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge! Pray and praise!” And again his friends fell upon their knees.

During the night, he scores of times repeated the words, “I’ll praise. I’ll praise!” but could say nothing more. Next morning, Wednesday, March 2, Joseph Bradford prayed with him. It was a few minutes before ten o’clock. Around the bed there knelt his niece, Miss Sarah Wesley; one of his executors, Mr. Horton; his medical attendant, Dr. Whitehead; his book steward, George Whitfield; the present occupants of his house, James and Hester Ann Rogers, and their little boy; and his friends and visitors, Robert Carr Brackenbury, and Elizabeth Ritchie,--eleven persons altogether. Bradford, so long Wesley’s faithful friend and travelling companion, was the mouthpiece of the other ten. “Farewell!” cried Wesley,--the last word he uttered; and then, as Joseph Bradford was saying, “Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and this heir of glory shall come in!” Wesley gathered up his feet in the presence of his brethren; and, without a groan and without a sigh, was gone. He died about ten o’clock a.m., on Wednesday, March 2, 1791.[786]

What followed? “Children!” said John Wesley’s mother, “as soon as I am dead, sing a song of praise!” As soon as Wesley himself died, his friends, standing about his corpse, sang:

“Waiting to receive thy spirit,
Lo! the Saviour stands above;
Shows the purchase of His merit,
Reaches out the crown of love.”

And then they knelt down, and prayed, that the mantle of the ascended Elijah might rest upon his followers.[787]