Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

*I am persuaded your Lord will be with you, and make your weakness more than conquer. He is wonderful in counsel; he has a way in the whirlwind: he cannot mean any thing but mercy to your soul: for he has given himself and all that he counted dear to you! What then would you with-hold from him? Methinks I hear you say, “Nothing. I would offer all I have or am to his will, when I know it is _his_.” And can you doubt this? _Is there an evil in the city, and the Lord hath not done it?_ Can a sparrow fall, or _Shimei_ curse _David_ without permission? Nay, Satan himself can do nothing without leave. O my God, shine on thy servant’s heart, that she may see thy hand of love holds the cup. And if she is called

“To bear the full anguish,
The uttermost load,
Yet give her to languish
And suffer like God!”

My dear friend, what shall I say, to dissuade you from over much sorrow? I can only love you, and speak to Jesus, that he may order your conduct to his glory.

* * * * *

_May, 1762. Norwich._

JOIN to praise the Lord, who still supports my feebleness of mind, carries all my burdens, and suffers me to desire nothing but his righteous, glorious will. I see infinite wisdom and unfathomable love, in all his dispensations towards me: I can now believe, that all things shall work together for good: I want words to tell you the sense I have of the goodness of God, far better felt than described: I find his consolations sufficient to support me under present difficulties, and am persuaded his grace will be equal to every future trial. I like your proposal, but dare scarce form one plan. May the Lord do with me as is good in his sight!

* * * * *

To the Reverend Mr. ――――.

_February 21, 1761._

YOUR obliging request lays me under a happy necessity, of calling to mind the past mercies of God. May every review of them bring trust for future blessings, and thankfulness for the present.

*Ever since I can remember, I was desirous of happiness; but I did not seek it in God. I thought if I was religious, I should go to heaven; but I knew not the nature of true religion, and I was unwilling to be under the restraint of that I did know: yet so great a stranger was I to myself, that I often thought, if I knew what God required, I would perform it. At sixteen I was confirmed, and made many resolutions; but they soon wore off. I had a strong impression on my mind, that I should die when I was four and twenty. I reflected on those who were put apprentice seven years to learn a trade, and thought I ought to use like application, to learn the business of eternity.

I went to the sacrament the day I was eighteen, and found uncommon satisfaction: I exhorted others to do the same, thinking I had now done all that was commanded me, and that if I continued in the same way, I should be a very profitable servant.

Soon after this I went to _London_, for eight weeks, where I heard Mr. _Jones_ (of _Southwark_) preach, and was affected at hearing of the sufferings of Christ, much as I used to be at seeing or reading of a tragedy. I was afterwards asked to hear Mr. _Romaine_. I did so, but could not understand him. The night I left _London_, some persons were debating about the Millennium. One of them repeated part of the 20th chapter of the _Revelation_. I was struck at the awful words, and thought if Christ was then to come, I was not prepared to meet him. I went home very serious, and began to search the scriptures, and to be more strict than ever. I was often troubled, but knew not the cause, and was ashamed to confess my fears. My friends thought I had a fever on my spirits, and I thought so too; but as I read much, I began to fear, that with all my religion, I was not converted. I wanted to go to _London_, that I might hear Mr. _Romaine_. A year after I went to _London_ with my father-in-law. At the inn where we lay, I saw Mr. _Whitefield_’s sermons. I read what I could, and determined to hear him. He was not in town; but I was much affected with Mr. _Dyer_’s preaching. Afterwards I not only went to St. _Dunstan_’s, but to all the methodist places of worship I knew, and one evening heard Mr. _Walsh_, at _West-street_. He preached the necessity of that _holiness, without which none can see the Lord_. His words were as arrows in my heart: I found all my former righteousness deficient: I knew this could not obtain mercy; but I did not feel I deserved hell. I wrote to Mr. _Romaine_ to know, what I should do to be saved? He desired to see me, and told me, two things were necessary, to know my want of Christ, and my interest in him. I went home with the greatest reluctance; for I knew no Christians in the town where I lived. My former acquaintance thought me mad: my mother was greatly alarmed. Not long after I went to _Norwich_ for a few days, and found out Mr. _Mitchell_. He spoke to me of the peace which faith brings to the conscience. I knew myself a stranger to this; but would willingly have suffered the rack, so I might attain it. I went home, and was, for five or six weeks, in a most unhappy situation. Before, I was not bad enough to come to Christ; now, I was too bad for him to receive; yet the Lord dealt tenderly with me, and at different times brought many encouraging scriptures to my mind. But still the stupidity and unbelief I felt caused me to mourn in secret. Still I was constrained to say,

“Scarce I begin my sad complaint,
When all my warmest wishes faint:
Hardly I lift my weeping eye,
When all my kindling ardors die:
Nor hopes nor fears my bosom move,
For still I cannot, cannot love!”

I could not rest thus, though I concluded, it would always be the case: I expected to be miserable all my life, and to perish at the last: I found it as easy to reach heaven with my hand, as to believe Jesus died for _me_. I felt, _no one can come to Christ, except the Father draw him_. Now I knew, it was the work of God, to believe on him whom he hath sent. I prayed he would work faith in _me_, but seemed as distant from God as hell from heaven: I was cut off from all self-dependence: I was a sinner stript of all.

I was on my knees striving to pray, when I heard inwardly a voice say, “Thy sins are forgiven thee.” I felt the truth of it in my heart, and in a moment prayer was lost in praise. I called upon the angels to join with me, in blessing him who died for _me_! He caused his goodness to pass before me, and I rejoiced with joy unspeakable.

Yet in a few hours after I began to fear I had deceived myself, and all was delusive. I was much distressed, and had recourse to prayer, and the Lord repeated his mercies, and impressed the same words on my mind, more strongly than before. I was more assured of his forgiving love, and enjoyed much peace in believing. I now thought, I never could sin more. My mind was taken up with God, and I conversed with him as a man would with his friend. My confidence in him was unshaken, and my hope full of immortality.

I wanted others to rejoice with me; but they were _strangers to Jesus_, and _intermeddled not with_ my _joy_. I lamented being alone. My nearest friends thought I carried things too far. My mother was more alarmed; for I could not speak but on religious subjects. A neighbouring clergyman advised her to confine me, if I offered to hear the Methodists. This I did at all opportunities, though none was nearer than four miles off. Her tenderness gave me much pain. I was sorry to grieve her in any thing; and yet I did not dare to oblige her, by acting contrary to my conscience. I could not play at cards, nor join in trifling discourse, though my refusal was deemed preciseness.

I was near two years at home after this. Then the Lord fulfilled his promise: He _gave me the bread of adversity and the water of affliction_; but _my eyes_ did _see my teachers_. I was now more desirous than ever, to be made conformable to the will of God: but I thought, to believe the doctrine of perfection, was derogating from the priestly office of Christ.

When I first saw you, Sir, at _Norwich_, notwithstanding my prejudice to your opinions, I found that reverence and esteem for you, which have increased ever since. My understanding was then better informed, and my desires more fervent for all the grace God had in store for me. I trust my soul is still alive to God, and athirst for righteousness. He has borne my manners in the wilderness, and sustains me in my utter helplessness. He continues to multiply his pardons, and heap his benefits upon me. Every trial is sent in mercy; every temptation is permitted for my good; every cross has proved a blessing in disguise. In _his_ light I see this: I believe he is able to keep me from falling, and to make me perfect and entire, lacking nothing. My present situation requires more of every grace, than any I have been in before: but, I trust, he in whom all fulness dwells, will supply my every want.

I would not have troubled you with so long a letter, but indeed “I had not time to make it shorter.” And I am desirous to prove by every means, that I regard your advice, and on all occasions speak with freedom. I am, dear Sir,

_Your obliged Servant_,

J. C.

* * * * *

_April 14, 1761._

_Reverend and dear Sir_,

GOD has been more gracious to my soul than I could ask or think. I find him as a place of broad waters, deep and large, and I feel my inability to fathom that depth of love. In Jesus are all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge hid: and he has begun to reveal them to the most ignorant soul. But it is impossible to describe the goodness of God, the great God, to so unworthy an object!

From the last morning you preached, I was stirred up to seek him more diligently than ever. You then discovered my heart to me, and what was wanting there. I was kept in prayer, and would have parted with all things, so I might win Christ. I wanted to love him with all my heart; but my own wisdom was his rival. Nothing less than Omnipotence could destroy this: and his own right hand got the victory. I was made sensible how compleatly foolish, and entirely helpless I was. My vehement soul stood still; and I saw Jesus was all my salvation. He was all my desire; and I knew he was made unto me sanctification and redemption. He appears as a priest, upon the throne, who shall bear the glory for ever. I feel my continual need of him, in all his offices. He is truly precious to my soul; but I want to know him more, and the power of his resurrection. I am happy in his love; but I want more intimate acquaintance and a deeper union with him. I see, the just shall live by faith: and unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given. If I were an archangel, I should veil my face before him, and let silence speak his praise!

* * * * *

_May 2._

I BELIEVE, while memory remains in me, gratitude will continue. I know, many are the troubles of the righteous: but out of them all doth the Lord deliver. I have never desired to hide any distress or difficulty from you at any time. Is this any reason, why you should tell _me_, what those are which now surround you? If I could remove the least of them by knowing it, I should be importunate.

From the time you preached on _Galatians_ v. 5. I saw clearly the true state of my soul. That sermon described my heart, and what it wanted to be truly happy. You read Mr. _M._’s letter, and it described the religion which I desired. From that time the prize appeared in view, and I was enabled to follow hard after it. I was kept watching unto prayer, sometimes in much distress, at others in patient expectation of the blessing. For some days before you left _London_, my soul was stayed on a promise I had applied to me in prayer, _The Lord whom ye seek shall suddenly come to his temple_. I believed he would, and that he would sit there as a refiner’s fire. The Tuesday after you went, I thought I could not sleep, unless he fulfilled his word that night. I never knew, as I did then, the force of these words, _Be still, and know that I am God_. I became nothing before him, and enjoyed perfect calmness in my soul. I knew not whether he had destroyed my sin; but I desired to know, that I might praise him. Yet I soon found the return of unbelief, and groaned, being burdened. On Wednesday I went to _London_, and sought the Lord without ceasing. I promised, if he would save me from sin, I would praise him. I could part with all things, so I might win Christ. But I found all these pleas nothing worth, and that if he saved _me_, it must be freely for his own name’s sake. On Thursday, after I had been with _S. Guildford_, and _B. Dixon_, I was so much tempted, that I thought of destroying myself, or never conversing more with the people of God. And yet I had no doubt of his pardoning love: but “’twas worse than death my God to love, and not my God alone.” On Friday my distress was deepened. I endeavoured to pray, and could not. I went to Mrs. _D._ who prayed for me, and told me, it was the death of nature. I opened the bible on _the fearful and unbelieving――shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone_. I could not bear it. I opened it again on _Mark xvi. 6, 7._ _Be not affrighted: Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth.――Go your way; tell his disciples, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him._ I was encouraged, and enabled to pray, believing I should see Jesus at home. I returned that night, and found Mrs. _G._ She prayed for me: and the Predestinarian had no plea, but, “Lord, thou art no respecter of persons.” He proved he was not, by blessing _me_. I was in a moment enabled to lay hold on Jesus Christ, and found salvation by simple faith. He assured me, the Lord, the King was in the midst of me, and that I should see evil no more. I now blessed him, who had visited and redeemed me, and was become my wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. I saw Jesus altogether lovely, and knew he was mine in all his offices. And glory be to him, he now reigns in my heart without a rival. I find no will but his. I feel no pride, nor any affection but what is placed upon him. I know, it is by faith I stand, and that watching unto prayer must be the guard of faith. I am happy in God this moment, and I believe for the next. I have often read the chapter you mention, and compared my heart and life with it. In so doing, I find my short-comings, and the need I have of the atoning blood. Yet I dare not say, I do not feel a measure of the love there described, though I am not all I shall be. I desire to be lost in that love which passeth knowledge. I wish for no joy, but what increases love.

* * * * *

_London, September 29, 1762._

_Reverend and dear Sir_,

I THANK you for another proof of your care for my soul, in the enquiries you make. I bless my Lord, his grace is sufficient to make me answer, without hesitation, every question you propose. I have for many months enjoyed such a continuance of the presence of my beloved, as makes me feel I am less than the least of his mercies. The beholding of him, who is fairer than the sons of men, the sight of Christ crucified, prevents the touch of pride, and makes me hate the garment spotted by the flesh. The testimony that I desire is not from man, and the approbation of God never makes me high-minded. Rather I rejoice to him with reverence. He teaches me to delight myself in him: and I feel, I cannot be displeased with any thing that is his choice, I know that I please him; for he testifies of my works, that they are wrought in him.

Indeed Jesus is unspeakably precious.

“Words are too mean to speak his worth,
Too mean to set my Saviour forth.”

He daily makes to me new discoveries of his grace and power, and every fresh manifestation more effectually unites my heart to him who is altogether lovely. I love my friends in him: he gives the affection I feel, and it always leads to him. I believe, when I quit the inconveniencies of mortality, I shall love with greater “strength and elegance,” every friend to whom Jesus has now united my soul. And what we now know in part, we shall prove in eternity, _God is love; and whoso dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God in him_. My desire for you is, that you may increase with all the increase of God, and return to us in the fulness of the gospel of peace. I believe you will, and that you will be a blessing to me and many.

I think Mr. _Bell_ is willing to take any advice you think proper to give him. I repeat what I said before: they that seek dissension, are not friends to the work of God. I trust you labour for peace, and the God of peace shall be with you always.

I daily give up all to Jesus, and have no sacrifice to make, which is not offered up already. He gives me strength for all he calls me to bear: and I find it easy for the love which _believes_, to _endure all things_.

May the God whom you serve bless your labours with great success! I wish you good luck in his name. The weapons of your warfare are mighty through him: you need not fight uncertainly, as one that beateth the air, but prove in every circumstance, _This is the victory, even our faith_. Continue to shew your care over me, by reproving and advising me as you judge needful. I am sensible of all my obligations to you, and am,

_Dear Sir_,

_Your obliged and affectionate Servant_.

SOME ACCOUNT
OF
THE EXPERIENCE
OF
E. J.

1. FOR many years I had a desire to love God, and thought I could submit to be of any sect or denomination, if this would bring me nearer to him: only rejecting the name of a _Methodist_. For I thought them to be a deluded people, and the off scouring of the earth. I was in this temper, when I heard a Minister preach on _All mine are thine, and thine are mine_. It came to my heart, and I found such a measure of happiness, as I never had done before. But having none to strengthen my hands, or build me up, it gradually died away.

2. After this, a clergyman having been at prayers, a gentlewoman asked me, how I liked him? I said, “Very well: he has had a liberal education, and speaks in a graceful manner.” She said, “But man cannot reach the heart. Did you ever hear the small still voice, whispering peace to your soul?” I felt something of prejudice rise at the question, and replied, “I have lived a good life. I have done no harm, and I do not omit my duty. I go to church every day.” She said, “I am sorry you have got no further.” I was surprised at her impertinence, and rose up to go away. She intreated me to stay a little, saying, “I have but another word to speak. If you are not delivered by a higher power than you have known yet, you will never be saved.” The word _higher power_ struck me to the heart, and brought a ray of light, which shewed me, that notwithstanding all my works, I was _without God in the world_. I found a load of guilt which struck me with terror. I saw my heart was as a cage of unclean birds. I believed, now I shall be a castaway, and knew not where to hide me. I could not speak, but withdrew and retired to my closet, and wrestled with God in mighty prayer. I resolved not to let him go till he had blessed me: crying, “I renounce all I am and all I have: if thou hast any blessing for me, bless me now!” Thus I continued an hour, when those words came with power, _Abide in me and I in thee_. I cried out with much assurance, “My Lord and my God! What is this thou hast done for me?” In the twinkling of an eye my soul was quickened. The seed of God was sown in my heart. My sins were blotted out, and I was raised from the dead, by the word of reconciliation. I felt virtue proceed from Christ, which took away my sins. I now partook of Angel’s food, and knew that I was born of God.

3. For three weeks I remained exceeding happy. My lamp was lighted, and I had oil in my vessel. The scriptures were opened to me, and were spirit and life: in the Lord’s supper I found the peace that passeth all understanding. None can express the excellency of the virtue which flows from the merits of Christ. I was grafted into the vine, and thereby enabled to _draw water out of the wells of salvation_. Yet I found, there was much in me contrary to the will of God. I had not all the mind that was in Christ. Nay, there remained much of the carnal mind. There was enmity, and strife, and vainglory, which soon embittered my sweets. My heart was bent to backsliding, and continually ready to comply with the suggestions of Satan. I gave way to evil reasoning, which caused peevishness and impatience: and these ate the life of God out of my soul. I could not _endure hardness_: in every storm I was ready to give up my confidence. I could not love God with an undivided heart. It was my desire, to praise him without ceasing: but I could not perform it, for some hindrance was still coming in the way. The Lord often refreshed me by the way: but this did not satisfy. What I wanted was, to have my heart entirely devoted to him. But I found there remained in me a root of bitterness, a stubborn will, and a diabolical nature, capable of committing all manner of wickedness, were it not for restraining grace. Yet I had no light into the scriptures, so as to divide the word, and make a distinction between the justifying and the sanctifying promises. So I was content to be a babe, if my inward corruptions would have let me be at peace. Yea, I had in my heart an utter aversion to the doctrine of entire sanctification, and found all the enmity in me rose against those who spoke of experiencing it. One day hearing a preacher say, we could not live many hours after we were sanctified, my heart readily joined with him. But presently I was struck with those words, _Without holiness no man shall see the Lord_. I fain would have stifled this conviction. At least, I cared not to think of it yet. I thought, Why it is but thirteen months since I was justified. And need I think of being sanctified already? However, if ever I should be, none shall ever know it. But the light increased more and more, and my desires at the same time, till I hungred and thirsted vehemently for something, but I knew not what. One day I was constrained to come unto the Lord, and was seized with an awful sense of his Majesty. I trembled, and for some moments was as in a silent darkness. I was ready to cry, Whither am I going? For it seemed, as if he was going to strike the blow, and send me to everlasting destruction. But I found a spark of light, and cried, “Where is my Jesus? He can _save to the uttermost_.” Presently I cried, “Lord, come quickly!” Yet I had a dread of his coming; for it appeared, as if something strange was going to happen to me. But I said, “Lord, thou prayest for me: O pray for me, that I may _now_ get the victory! Help _now_ my unbelief! Renew me wholly in thy image and likeness! Give me faith, and faith’s increase, that I may be wholly saved from sin.” I then found fresh strength, and cried vehemently, “If thou hast any blessing for me, bless me now! Unworthy as I am, yet I claim, in Christ, my full redemption. I mean to take no denial. Give me all thou hast purchased. Loose me from myself, that I may lie passive in thy hand. Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean!” But I found there was a dark cloud, which still remained between God and my soul. Then I cried, “Lord, let me touch the scepter of thy righteousness. I resign my life and my all. Make me now whole, and take me to thyself.” While I thus pleaded, I was in an agony between hope and despair, till those words came as a mighty rushing wind, _A clean heart I give unto thee_. I received the word with gladness and in much assurance. Soon after came, _Be not faithless, but believing_. At these happy words every cloud was dispelled, and I saw the light which shineth to the perfect day. I found access to the holy of holies, where I now see the Trinity in Unity. The Lord _shineth_ unto me _in perfect beauty_: I enjoy an inseparable union with him without intermission. The little leaven has leavened the whole lump. All my senses are now fully employed in spiritual exercise. The love of God, flaming in my heart as an unquenchable fire, has burnt up all the dross, and destroyed every plant which was not of his own planting. I find that oneness with him, being made _one spirit with the Lord_, which enables me to walk with him like _Enoch_, so that I converse with him by his Spirit, as ♦familiarly _as a man doth with his friend_. I find now no want, no inward conflict, but my soul dwells in a peaceable habitation. I am enabled to walk as in the noon-day sun: my heart is fixed, and my soul is watered every moment. Yet the fear of the Lord is ever before me, lest I should grieve the Holy Spirit. I watch and guard the sacred treasure in my heart, not daring to give way to a word or thought, without finding the approbation of the Lord, by the powerful operation of his Spirit. Hereby I know and _prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God_. He manifests his strength in my weakness. I am but a worm; yet he delights to bless me, and has made me perfect in his love, so that nothing interrupts my joy. He enables me, not to lose a moment of time, and to live but a moment at once. My _hope_ is _full of immortality_; and I find no want of spiritual food, no more than if I was in heaven already. Nothing in me opposes the will of God: in nothing can I either wish or chuse. For he hath given me to _walk before him in all well-pleasing_, and to _sit in heavenly places with Christ Jesus_. My loins are girt, my lamp burning, and my soul flourishing as the palm-tree.

♦ “familiary” replaced with “familiarly”

4. For these ten years I have enjoyed this haven of rest. It has been to me as a day without a cloud. I never have had a tedious moment, nor a murmuring thought. I have been tempted in all things; yet nothing obscures my light, or obstructs my way; but still _I rejoice evermore, pray without ceasing, and in every thing give thanks_. My heart is prepared, whenever my Lord knocks, to open to him immediately. For grace has overcome death: the thoughts of death are my glory and joy. I know, that I am every moment ready to be offered, being made in Christ unrebukeable, without spot, a spiritual sacrifice, wholly devoted to God.

5. God now permitted the grace he had given to be tried. I was not born to dwell on one spot of ground, but was banished from all that was near and dear to me, and driven from city to city. I now proved the happy effects of faith. When I was buffetted by Satan, his darts took no place in me: I defied him, and all his works. When I am roughly treated by the world, _I stand still, and see the salvation of God_. And the more I am tempted, so much the more the pure flame revives; and the love of God, ever flaming in the heart, keeps out every occasion of stumbling. This enables me to _rejoice in tribulation_, and glory in the cross: for I find, by his grace, my soul is _even as mount Zion, which cannot be moved_. I am freed from all anxious thoughts and painful fears. I _take no thought for the morrow_. I live to-day, and have nothing to do but to die. I know, my soul is prepared to meet my God. In nothing hitherto have I been ashamed, with all boldness giving thanks unto the Lord. And now I ascribe all glory to him, who hath made me a partaker of that holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord.

6. Think it not strange, that he should give this suddenly. When he comes to justify, he comes quickly. And when he comes to sanctify, he comes quickly. This also is an instantaneous work. And no man can love God with all his heart, and grow up into Christ in all things, so as to enjoy all the mind that was in Christ, till he is _sanctified throughout, body, soul, and spirit_.

7. As we were justified, so are we sanctified by one single act of faith. Then is the soul made like a flame of fire, and the heart is in one continual frame of praising God. Then the fulness of Christ is brought into the soul; even as much of the glory of God as this earthly tabernacle can bear. Then is our inbred sin destroyed. This is the cause of all our transgressions, and while any of this remains, it is the believer’s hell, and makes him cry out, _Who shall deliver me from the body of this death_? Christ will deliver you. He has purchased for you a full redemption. He has regained paradise, and restores the soul to that acquaintance with God which _Adam_ lost. By faith, I ever see him that is invisible, and converse with him, as it were, face to face. I stand naked before the Lord, and am not ashamed; but rejoice in being sensible, that he knows the secret thoughts of my heart. I rejoice, that he has taught me to _put on the whole armour of God_, and has made it as easy to me, to do and suffer the will of God, as it is to _the sparks to fly upward_.

8. Pull off then this veil of unbelief, and trample sin and Satan under your feet. Be _you_ also a faithful witness of Christ, that he is _able to save to the uttermost_, that he hath power even on earth to save from all sin, _from all filthiness both of flesh and spirit_. My experience will profit another nothing, unless applied to the heart by the Spirit of God. And is not this the one thing needful for _you_, to be _filled with faith and with the Holy Ghost_? May the Lord hasten the time, when this faith shall cover the earth, _as the water covers the sea_! Then shall they not need to teach this to one another: For _all shall know Him, from the least even to the greatest_.

9. O that sinners would give up their own wisdom, and become fools, that they may be made wise! Cannot the Lord do a great work in a little time? In the hour that he convinced _me_ of the necessity of it, before that hour was expired, I was justified. Thirteen months after (as I before observed,) I was convinced of the necessity of full sanctification. That night, before I slept, God gave me the blessing. And is he a _respecter of persons_? Who then would not cry unto him? Who would not spend a few hours in fervent prayer? O let your hearts yield! Draw near unto the Lord, and he will draw near unto _you_. He will draw you after him by the cords of his love, and you will begin to _smell the sweet odour of his ointments_. Then open your hearts to my beloved; for _his voice is sweet, and his countenance comely. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruit._ He says, _Arise, my love, and come away!_ I will chide thee no more for thy past follies. Only now _give me thy heart_. Thou shalt then find, _the winter is past, the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land_. Then will you get new eyes, new hearts, new delights, and every thing will have a satisfying relish. Then will you chide yourselves, for having been so long in pursuit of the things that perish in the using! Then will he give you the pearl that _Adam_ lost, that heart-felt union with God, whereby you shall steadily enjoy his immediate presence: and his presence makes our paradise. You shall walk in the light, having his bright beams ever shining upon you. So that

Not a cloud shall arise,
To darken the skies,
Or hide for a moment the Lord from your eyes.

An EARNEST APPEAL
TO MEN OF
REASON and RELIGION.

JOHN vii. 51.

_Doth our law judge any man BEFORE it HEAR him,
and KNOW WHAT HE DOTH?_

ALTHOUGH it is with us a _very small thing to be judged of you or of man’s judgment_, seeing we know God will _make our innocency as clear as the light, and our just dealing as the noon-day_; yet are we ready to give any that are willing to hear, a plain account, both of our principles and actions: as having _renounced the hidden things of shame_, and desiring nothing more, _than by manifestation of the truth to commend ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of_ God.

*2. We see (and who does not?) the numberless follies and miseries of our fellow-creatures. We see on every side, either men of no religion at all, or men of a lifeless, formal religion. We are grieved at the sight, and should greatly rejoice, if by any means we might convince some, that there is a better religion to be attained, a religion worthy of God that gave it. And this we conceive to be no other than love; the love of God, and of all mankind; the loving God with all our heart and soul, and strength, as having first loved _us_, as the fountain of all the good we have received, and of all we ever hope to enjoy; and the loving every soul which God hath made, every man on earth, as our own soul.

*3. This love we believe to be the medicine of life, the never-failing remedy, for all the evils of a disordered world, for all the miseries and vices of men. Wherever this is, there are virtue and happiness, going hand in hand. There is humbleness of mind, gentleness, long suffering, the whole image of God, and at the same time a peace that passeth all understanding, and joy unspeakable and full of glory.

“Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind;
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d:
Desires compos’d, affections ever even,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heav’n.”

4. This religion we long to see established in the world, a religion of love, and joy, and peace, having its seat in the inmost soul, but ever shewing itself by its fruits, continually springing forth not only in all innocence, (for love worketh no ill to his neighbour) but likewise in every kind of beneficence, spreading virtue and happiness all around it.

5. This religion have we been following after for many years, as many know, if they would testify: but all this time, seeking wisdom we found it not; we were spending our strength in vain. And being now under full conviction of this, we declare it to all mankind: for we desire not that others should wander out of the way, as we have done before them; but rather that they may profit by our loss, that they may go (tho’ we did not, having then no man to guide us) the straight way to the religion of love, even by faith.

*6. Now faith (supposing the scripture to be of God) is πραγμάτων ♦ἔλεγχος οὐ βλεπομένων, the demonstrative evidence of things unseen, the supernatural evidence of things invisible, not perceivable by eyes of flesh, or by any of our natural senses or faculties. Faith is that divine evidence, whereby the spiritual man discerneth God, and the things of God. It is with regard to the spiritual world, what sense is with regard to the natural. It is the spiritual sensation of every soul that is born of God.

♦ “ἔαγχος οὑ βλπομένων” replaced with “ἔλεγχος οὐ βλεπομένων”

7. Perhaps you have not considered it in this view; I will then explain it a little further.

Faith, according to the scriptural account, is the eye of the new-born soul. Hereby every true believer in God, _seeth him who is invisible_. Hereby (in a more particular manner, since life and immortality have been brought to light by the gospel) he _seeth the light of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ_; and, _beholdeth what manner of love it is, which the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we_ (who are born of the Spirit) _should be called the sons of God_.

It is the ear of the soul, whereby a sinner _hears the voice of the Son of God and lives_; even that voice which alone wakes the dead, _Son, thy sins are forgiven thee_.

It is (if I may be allowed the expression) the palate of the soul: for hereby a believer _tastes the good word, and the powers of the world to come_; and _hereby he both tastes and sees that God is gracious_, yea, _and merciful to him a sinner_.

It is the feeling of the soul, whereby a believer perceives, thro’ the _power of the Highest over-shadowing him_, both the existence and the presence of him, in whom _he lives, moves, and has his being_; and indeed the whole invisible world, the entire system of things eternal. And hereby, in particular, he feels _the love of God shed abroad in his heart_.

*8. _By this faith we are saved_ from all uneasiness of mind, from the anguish of a wounded spirit, from discontent, from fear, and sorrow of heart, from that inexpressible listlessness and weariness, both of the world and of ourselves, which we had so ♦helplessly laboured under for many years; especially when we were out of the hurry of the world, and sunk into calm reflection. In this we find that love of God, and of all mankind, which we had elsewhere sought in vain. This we know and feel, and therefore cannot but declare, saves every one that partakes of it, both from sin and misery, from every unhappy and every unholy temper.

♦ “helplesly” replaced with “helplessly”

“Soft peace she brings, wherever she arrives,
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives;
Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even,
And opens in each breast a little heaven.”

9. If you ask, “Why then have not all men this faith? All at least who conceive it to be so happy a thing? Why do they not believe immediately?”

We answer, (on the scripture hypothesis) _It is the gift of God_. No man is able to work it in himself. It is a work of Omnipotence. It requires no less power thus to quicken a dead soul, than to raise a body that lies in the grave. It is a new creation; and none can create a soul anew but he who at first created the heavens and the earth.

*10. May not your own experience teach you this? Can you give yourself this faith? Is it now in your power to see, or hear, or taste, or feel God? Have you already, or can you raise in yourself any perception of God, or of an invisible world? I suppose you do not deny, that there is an invisible world: you will not charge it in poor old _Hesiod_, to Christian prejudice of education, when he says, in those well known words,

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, whether we wake, or if we sleep.

Now, is there any power in your soul, whereby you discern either these, or him that created them? Or, can all your wisdom and strength open an intercourse between yourself and the world of spirits? Is it in your power to burst the veil that is on your heart, and let in the light of eternity? You know it is not. You not only do not, but cannot (by your own strength) thus believe. The more you labour so to do, the more you will be convinced, _it is the gift of God_.

*11. It is the _free gift_ of God, which he bestows not on those who are _worthy_ of his favour, not on such as are _previously holy_, and so _fit_ to be crowned with all the blessings of his goodness: but on the ungodly and unholy; on those who till that hour were _fit_ only for everlasting destruction; those in whom was no good thing, and whose only plea was, _God, be merciful to me a sinner_. No merit, no goodness in man precedes the forgiving love of God. His pardoning mercy supposes nothing in us but a sense of mere sin and misery: and to all who see, and feel, and own their wants, and their utter inability to remove them, God freely gives faith, for the sake of him _in whom he is always well pleased_.

12. This is a short, rude sketch of the doctrine we teach. These are our fundamental principles: and we spend our lives in confirming others herein, and in a behaviour suitable to them.

Now, if you are a reasonable man, although you do not believe the Christian system to be of God, lay your hand upon your breast, and calmly consider, what it is that you can here condemn? What evil have we done to _you_, that _you_ should join the common cry against us? Why should _you_ say, _Away with such fellows from the earth: it is not fit that they should live_?

13. ’Tis true, your judgment does not fall in with ours. We believe the scripture to be of God. This you do not believe. And how do you defend yourselves against them who urge you with the guilt of unbelief? Do you not say, “Every man _must_ judge according to the light he has, and that if he be true to this, he ought not to be condemned?” Keep then to this, and turn the tables. _Must_ not _we_ also judge according to the light we have? You can in no wise condemn _us_, without involving _yourselves_ in the same condemnation. According to the light _we_ have, we cannot but believe the scripture is of God; and, while we believe this, we dare not turn aside from it, to the right hand, or to the left.

*14. Let us consider this point a little farther. You yourself believe there is a God. You have the witness of this in your own breast. Perhaps sometimes you tremble before him. You believe there is such a thing as right and wrong, that there is a difference between moral good and evil. Of consequence, you must allow, there is such a thing as conscience; I mean, that every person, capable of reflection, is conscious to himself, when he looks back on any thing he has done, whether it be good or evil. You must likewise allow, that every man is to be guided by his own conscience, not another’s. Thus far, doubtless, you may go, without any danger of being a _volunteer in_ faith.

15. Now then, be consistent with yourself. If there be a God, who being just and good, (attributes inseparable from the very idea of God) is _a rewarder of them that diligently seek him_, ought we not to do whatever we believe will be acceptable to so good a Master? Observe: if we _believe_, if we are fully persuaded of this in our mind, ought we not thus to seek him? And that with all diligence? Else, how should we expect any reward at his hands?

16. Again: Ought we not to do what we believe is morally good, and to abstain from what we judge is evil? By good I mean, conducive to the good of mankind, tending to advance peace, and good-will among men, promotive of the happiness of our fellow-creatures; and by evil, what is contrary thereto. Then surely you cannot condemn our endeavouring after our power, to make mankind happy; (I now speak only with regard to the present world) our striving, as we can, to lessen their sorrows, and to teach them in whatsoever state they are, therewith to be content.

17. Yet again. Are we to be guided by _our own_ conscience, or by that of other men? _You_ surely will not say, that any man’s conscience can preclude _mine_. _You_, at least, will not plead for robbing us, of what you strongly claim for yourselves. I mean, the right of private judgment, which is indeed unalienable from reasonable creatures. _You_ well know, that unless we faithfully follow the dictates of _our own_ mind, we cannot have a conscience void of offence toward God and towards man.

*18. Upon your own principles therefore you must allow us to be, at least, innocent. Do you find any difficulty in this? You speak much of pre-possession and prejudice; beware you are not entangled therein yourselves. Are you not prejudiced against _us_, because we believe and strenuously defend that system of doctrines which you oppose? Are you not enemies to _us_, because you take it for granted we are so to _you_? Nay, God forbid! I once saw one, who, from a plentiful fortune, was reduced to the lowest extremity. He was lying on a sick bed, in violent pain, without even convenient food, or one friend to comfort him: so that when his merciful landlord, to compleat all, sent one to take his bed from under him, I was not surprized at his attempt to put an end to so miserable a life. Now, when I saw that poor man, weltering in his blood, could I be angry at him? Surely no. No more can I at _you_. I can no more hate than I can envy you. I can only lift up my heart to God for _you_ (as I did then for him) and, with silent tears, beseech the Father of mercies, that he would look on you in your blood, and say unto you, _Live_.

*19. “Sir, (said that unhappy man, at my first interview with him) I scorn to deceive you or any man. You must not tell me of your bible; for I don’t believe one word of it. I know there is a God, and believe he is all in all, the _Anima mundi_, the

“vastam
Mens agitans molem, & magno se corpore miscens.”

“But farther then this, I believe not; all is dark, my thought is lost. But I hear (added he) you preach to a great number of people every night and morning. Pray, what would you do with them? Whither would you lead them? What religion do you preach? What is it good for?” I replied, “I do preach to as many as desire to hear, every night and morning.” You ask, “What I would do with them?” I would make them virtuous and happy, easy in themselves, and useful to others. “Whither would I lead them?” To heaven; to God the Judge, the lover of all, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant. “What religion do I preach?” The religion of love; the law of kindness brought to light by the gospel. “What is this good for?” To make all who receive it enjoy God and themselves: To make them like God; lovers of all; contented in their lives; and crying out at their death, in calm assurance, _O grave where is thy victory! thanks be unto God, who giveth me the victory, thro’ my Lord Jesus Christ_.

20. Will you object to such a religion as this; that it is not reasonable? Is it not reasonable then to love God? Hath he not given you life, and breath, and all things? Does he not continue his love to you, filling your heart with food and gladness? What have you not received of him? And does not love demand a return of love? Whether therefore you do love God or no, you cannot but own it is reasonable so to do; nay, seeing he is the parent of all good, to love him with all your heart.

21. Is it not reasonable also to love our neighbour? Every man whom God hath made? Are we not brethren? The children of one father? Ought we not then to love one another? And should we only love them that love us? Is that acting like our Father which is in heaven? He causeth his sun to shine on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. And can there be a more equitable rule (the only adequate measure of brotherly love, in all our words and actions) _Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do unto them_.

22. Is it not reasonable then, that as we have opportunity, we should do good unto all men? Not only friends but enemies, not only to the deserving, but likewise to the evil and unthankful. Is it not right that all our life should be one continued labour of love? If a day passes without doing good, may one not well say, with _Titus_, _Amici, diem perdidi!_¹ And is it enough, to feed the hungry, to cloath the naked, to visit those who are sick or in prison? Should we have no pity for those

Who sigh beneath guilt’s horrid stain,
The worst confinement, and the heaviest chain?