An insight into his own persevering way of working may well be gained from the directions he give's in a letter written from Bristol to Mr. Wase, of Madeley:—

"MY DEAR BROTHER,—Go to Mrs. Cound, and tell her I charge her, in the name of God, to give up the world, to set out with all speed for Heaven, and to join the few about her who fear God. If she refuses, call again; call weekly, if not daily, and warn her from me till she is ripe for glory.... Give my love to George Crannage; tell him to make haste to Christ, and not to doze away his last days."

To the whole of his parishioners he wrote, on one occasion, an epistle through which we gain a glimpse of the tenderness and beauty of his spirit, chastened still more, as it then was, by affliction:—

"MY DEAR COMPANIONS IN TRIBULATION,—All the children of God I love; but of all the children of God, none have so great a right, to my love as you. Your stated or occasional attendance on my poor ministry, as well as the bonds of neighbourhood, and the many happy hours I have spent with you before the throne of Grace, endear you peculiarly to me. . . .

"I sometimes feel a desire of being buried where you are buried, and of having my bones lie in a common earthen bed with yours; but I soon resign that wish, and exult in thinking that, whatever distance there may be between our graves, we can now bury our sins, cares, doubts, and fears, in the one grave of our Divine Saviour. If I, your poor unworthy shepherd, am smitten, be not scattered, but rather be more closely gathered unto Christ, and keep near each other in faith and love, till you all receive our second Comforter and Advocate, the Holy Ghost, the third Person in our Covenant God. He is with you; but if you plead the promise of the Father, 'which,' says Christ, 'ye have heard of Me, He will be in you.' He will fill your souls with His light, love, und glory, according to that verse which we have so often sung together:—

"Refining Fire, go through my heart, Illuminate my soul; Scatter Thy life through every part, And sanctify the whole.

"This indwelling of the Comforter perfects the mystery of sanctification in the believer's soul. This is the highest blessing of the Christian covenant on earth. Rejoicing in God our Creator, in God our Redeemer, let us look for the full comfort of God our Sanctifier. So shall we live and die in the faith, going on from faith to faith, from strength to strength, from comfort to comfort, till Christ is all in all to us all."



CHAPTER XVI.

AN UNFORTUNATE PURCHASE.



Mary Bosanquet was doomed to suffer through her friends. She was greatly tried by interfering advisers, and through ill-given counsel she took steps which caused anxieties to thicken and debts to accumulate. It was anything but an easy life, yet it was illuminated by wonderful answers to prayer. On one occasion she had to find a large sum of money in the course of a day or two.

"You had better borrow it until your own half-yearly cheque comes in," said Mrs. Ryan.

They tried, but were unsuccessful. Miss Bosanquet went to prayer, and it seemed to her as if the Lord Jesus Christ stood by her side and repeated some words she had lately read: "Christ charges Himself with all your temporal affairs, while you charge yourself with those that relate to His glory." Such power accompanied the utterance as "wiped away every care," as she put it to herself. While yet she thanked her Lord for His promise a knock came to her door. A man had called to bring her just the amount she needed.

Not a little trouble came to Mary Bosanquet through a Miss Lewen who stayed in her house, received much good, and was nursed through an illness which proved unto death.

Many ill-natured persons credited the kindly hostess with an effort to secure Miss Lewen's fortune for her work, but the reverse was the case, she having cost the little House of Mercy many pounds without contributing anything towards it.

A man named Richard Taylor was her next trial—a debtor and improvident, with a wife and family of small children. Being recommended to her good graces, he stayed for a time in her household while trying to arrange with his creditors. He accompanied Miss Bosanquet, Mrs. Ryan, and Mrs. Crosby upon a troublesome journey to Yorkshire, taken with the double purpose of benefiting Sarah Ryan's fast-failing health, and of seeking a larger and more suitable Orphan Home than the one in Leytonstone. The latter object was accomplished, but Mrs. Ryan gradually sank, and to her friend's great sorrow they had to bury her in the old churchyard of Leeds.

The northern Home involved three times the work required by the other; wheat had to be ground to flour before home-made bread could be baked, cows managed and milked, men-servants overlooked; all the details, in fact, of a country house and a large household came under review. This alone would have brought more than enough responsibility, but on the advice of Richard Taylor and another Yorkshire friend, Miss Bosanquet unfortunately bought a farm with malt-kilns attached, and began to build a house suitable for the size of her family.

The investment turned out an unhappy failure. The work of God prospered mightily, but the settling of Taylor's affairs cost her between £200 and £300; the house was an inn-of-call for all Methodists travelling through the district (which could not be without incurring much expense); the farm and kilns swallowed increasingly large sums of money, and Taylor was an extravagant manager.

Had it not been for the unfailing kindness and help of a gentleman who many times proposed to Miss Bosanquet in vain, she would have come out of the affair penniless. Friends greatly urged this marriage upon her. Her rule in these cases was to ask herself, "Should I be holier or happier with this man?" The answer was invariably "No!" and in this particular instance the thought of her saintly friend at Madeley arose to make the idea doubly disagreeable to her.

In great distress, she began to live on bread and water in order to economise, and go no further into debt, but the night following this forlorn effort God came very near and comforted her with the promise of deliverance in a way she knew not. She says:—

"He showed me (by a light on my understanding) that all my trials were appointed by Himself; that they were laid on by weight and measure, and should go no farther than they would work for my good. . . . I had depended on creatures for help, and therefore He had let me feel the weight of my burdens, that I might be constrained to cast them afresh on Him; and that, when He had proved and tried me, He would deliver me from all my outward burdens. As a pledge of the inward liberty He would afterwards bring me into, and that the ways and means of my deliverance were in His own hands, and should appear in the appointed time, those words were again brought powerfully to my mind—'If thou ...put away iniquity far from thy tabernacles.... Yea, the Almighty shall be thy defence, and thou shalt have plenty of silver...and shalt lift up thy face unto God.... Thou shalt also decree a thing, and it shall be established unto thee; and the light shall shine upon thy ways.'...It was a profitable and melting time."

Thus, even in the midst of her troubles, was Mary Bosanquet comforted of God.



CHAPTER XVII.

The College of Trevecca.



An important episode in the life of John Fletcher was his association with the College of Trevecca, opened by the Countess of Huntingdon, for young men who desired to devote themselves to the service of Christ. A gratuitous education for three years, with lodging, board, and clothing, was provided for each student, the young men being afterwards free to enter whatever church they preferred.

Above all, it was important that the College should have a President whose advice could be relied upon concerning the choice, conduct and work of both masters and students—practically an unsalaried head of affairs. To this post was called the Vicar of Madeley, and though naturally unable to be resident in the College, he accepted the duties of President, and, as such, gave most valuable service.

A little later than this Fletcher undertook to be Chaplain (one of three) to the Earl of Buchan, who was known as one of the most devoted Christians of his rank.

Notwithstanding these duties, Fletcher's work became increasingly itinerant in character. Wesley says:—

"For many years he regularly preached at places eight, ten, and sixteen miles off, returning the same night, though he seldom got home before one or two in the morning. At a little Society which he had gathered about six miles from Madeley, he preached two or three times a week, beginning at five in the morning.... In some of his journeys he had not only difficulties, but dangers likewise, to encounter. One day, as he was riding over a wooden bridge, just as he got to the middle thereof, it broke in. The mare's forelegs sank into the river, but her breast and hinder parts were kept up by the bridge. In that position she lay as still as if she had been dead, till he got over her neck and took off his bags, in which were several MSS., the spoiling of which would have occasioned much trouble. He then endeavoured to raise her up, but she would not stir till he went over the other part of the bridge. But no sooner did he set his feet upon the ground than she began to plunge. Immediately the remaining part of the bridge broke down and sunk with her into the river. But presently she rose and swam to him."

Other adventures befell Fletcher in his travels, some of them ending in the narrowest escapes from injury and death.

In the early part of the year 1770 Fletcher visited Italy, France, and his native Switzerland, with his friend Mr. Ireland. Few details are preserved, but it seems to have been an uncommonly lively tour. Mr. Ireland tells of the Vicar's enthusiasm for unmasking various practices of the Italian priests, which placed them frequently in danger of their lives.

During this trip they met with a classical scholar who said he had "travelled all over Europe, and had passed through all the societies in England to find a person whose life corresponded with the Gospels and with Paul's Epistles." Almost defiantly he demanded of Mr. Ireland if he knew a single clergyman or Dissenting minister in his native land possessed of £100 a year who would not desert his living for any other if offered double that amount. Mr. Ireland triumphantly pointed to his travelling companion, saying, "That man would not!"

The traveller turned to Mr. Fletcher and began a religious argument, which the two kept up at intervals for a whole week. The Vicar overcame his opponent again and again, and though the latter lost his temper continually over his repeated defeats, the calm, sweet reasonableness of Fletcher's spirit, as much as the overwhelming weight of his arguments for Jesus Christ, made a lasting impression upon his mind. Eight years later he showed his appreciation by becoming the Vicar's host in Provence, and treating him with the greatest reverence and attention.

While in Paris he was sent for to visit a sick woman. Information having been given to a magistrate which ascribed to him wrong motives, a garbled case was got up, and an order of apprehension was issued from the King. An officer called at the house where the friends were staying to serve the order. Mr. Ireland stepped out and, without mentioning his name, said quietly, "Sir, have you an order for me?" "I have," responded the officer, taking him for Fletcher. They went off together, and Mr. Fletcher was well out of the city before the magistrate disgustedly discovered the mistake.

When in the south of France, Fletcher determined to visit the Protestants of the Cevennes Mountains, and nothing would serve him but that he should perform the long and difficult journey on foot, with but a staff in his hand. He disdained to appear well cared for, and on horseback, at the doors of those whose fathers were hunted for their faith from rock to rock. He set out in his own fashion, therefore; on the first night of his travels begging the use of a chair in some humble cottage until morning. The peasant was reluctant to admit his strange guest, but when he had heard him talk and pray, himself, no less than his wife and children, were affected to tears. "I nearly refused to let a stranger into my house," related the peasant to his neighbours, "but when he came I found more angel than man."

Nor was this the only person who held such an opinion. Wesley tells of another visit paid by the Vicar upon his way to call upon a minister of the district. A little crowd was assembled at the door of a house where a mother and her newly-born child were dying. The room was also filled with neighbours. Fletcher went in, spoke gently to the people present of the effects of the sin of our first parent, and pointed them to Jesus. "Jesus!" he exclaimed, "He is able to raise the dead, to save you all from sin, to save these from death. Come, let us ask Him!"

In prayer he had wondrous liberty. The child's convulsions ceased, the mother became easy, and strength flowed into her as he prayed. The neighbours gazed astonished, and silently withdrew, whispering to one another when without the house, "Certainly it was an angel!"

On their journey from France to Italy the travellers arrived at the Appian Way. Fletcher stopped the carriage and descended, remarking to his friend, "I cannot ride over ground where the Apostle Paul once walked, chained to a soldier;" and taking off his hat he walked up the old Roman road praising God for the glorious Gospel preached by His servant of long ago.

Nor was this affectation upon Fletcher's part. Nothing was further from his thoughts at any time than to make an impression upon those around him. Perhaps for this very reason the mark he did make was indelible. No man ever spent an hour with the Vicar of Madeley without being spiritually better for it.

Arrived at Nyon, he was pressed to occupy several pulpits. Crowds flocked after him from place to place, sinners were awakened, scoffers silenced, and many were brought to seek Jesus as the only Saviour.

One aged minister besought him to prolong his visit, if only for an additional week. When assured it was impossible, he turned to Mr. Ireland with tears running down his cheeks. "Oh, sir," he exclaimed, "how unfortunate for my country! During my lifetime it has produced but one angel of a man, and now it is our lot to. lose him."

The parting from these good people was almost overwhelming. Some of the multitude which gathered to say good-bye followed the carriage for over two miles, unwilling to lose sight of one who had brought them so near to God.

More than ordinary welcome awaited him at Trevecca. Joseph Benson— headmaster of the College, and Fletcher's biographer in latter days— wrote of it thus:—

"He was received as an angel of God. It is not possible for me to describe the veneration in which we all held him. Like Elijah in the schools of the prophets, he was revered; he was loved; he was almost adored; not only by every student, but by every member of the family.

"And, indeed, he was worthy. . . . Though by the body he was tied down to earth, his whole conversation was in Heaven. His life, from day to day, was hid with Christ in God. Prayer, praise, love, and zeal, all ardent, elevated above what one would think attainable in this state of frailty, were the element in which he continually lived. As to others, his one employment was to call, entreat and urge them to ascend with him to the glorious source of being and blessedness. He had leisure, comparatively, for nothing else. Languages, arts, sciences, grammar, rhetoric, logic, even divinity itself, were all laid aside when he appeared in the schoolroom among the students. His full heart would not suffer him to be silent. He must speak, and they were readier to hearken to this servant and minister of Jesus Christ than to attend to Sallust, Virgil, Cicero, or any Latin or Greek historian, poet, or philosopher they had been engaged in reading. And they seldom hearkened long before they were all in tears, and every heart catched lire from the flame that burned in his soul.

"These seasons generally terminated in this. Being convinced that to be 'filled with the Holy Ghost' was a better qualification for the ministry of the Gospel than any classical learning...after speaking awhile in the schoolroom, he used frequently to say, 'As many of you as are athirst for the fulness of the Spirit, follow me into my room.' On this, many of us instantly followed him, and there continued till noon, for two or three hours, praying for one another till we could bear to kneel no longer.... I have sometimes seen him...so filled with the love of God that he cried out, 'O my God, withhold Thy hand, or the vessel will burst!' But he afterwards told me he was afraid he had grieved the Spirit of God, and that he ought to have prayed that the Lord would have enlarged the vessel, or have suffered it to break, that the soul might have had no further bar to its enjoyment of the Supreme Good."

Few headmasters have had the opportunity to speak of the President of their college as the headmaster of Trevecca was led to do of Fletcher.



CHAPTER XVIII.

A PEN OF POWER.



Early in the new year of 1771 the happy relations of Fletcher and Wesley with the Countess of Huntingdon were shattered by unfortunate differences in theology, Mr. Fletcher, held by certain utterances of Wesley against Calvinistic doctrine, finding himself, as a result, obliged to resign his Presidency of Trevecca College. Circumstances, regretted most of all by himself, drew Fletcher into a long Calvinian controversy, and to the publication of his famous "Checks to Antinomianism," and remarkable and closely-reasoned vindication of the doctrines by which he held, abounding in the plainest of plain speech.

The Calvinian controversy was long and bitter, being succeeded by a Unitarian controversy, which became equally prominent. Both disturbances were productive of much discussion, of many pamphlets, of "Vindications," and "Answers," and "Circulars," and "Letters." Into this word-war Fletcher was drawn much against his own preference, but when once the fight had been entered upon, it was almost impossible for him to extricate himself until it was fought out.

"What a world!" he wrote to Benson; "methinks I dream when I reflect that I have written on controversy; the last subject I thought I should have meddled with. I expect to be smartly taken in hand and soundly drubbed for it. Lord, prepare me for it, and for everything that may make me cease from man, and, above all, from your unworthy servant."

Enemies there were, not a few, who rejoiced at an opportunity of hurling abuse at a good man—some of the sharp and stinging things they said amounted to actual slander. To know how keen was the fight, how bitter and provoking the attacks made, one must read the correspondence and pamphlets then issued; but in the midst of it all Wesley was able to write of his friend:—

"I rejoice not only in the abilities, but in the temper, of Mr. Fletcher. He writes as he lives. I cannot say that I know such another clergyman in England or Ireland. He is all fire, but it is the fire of love. His writings, like his constant conversation, breathe nothing else, to those who read him with an impartial eye."

The controversy was much to be deplored on account of the personal element brought in at all points, yet Fletcher's clear and eloquent writings in his "Checks" was a fine service rendered to the Christian faith. Once more to quote Wesley:—

"In his 'Checks to Antinomianism,' one knows not which to admire most —the purity of the language, the strength and clearness of the argument, or the mildness and sweetness of the spirit that breathes through the whole. Insomuch that I nothing wonder at a serious clergyman, who, being resolved to live and die in his own opinion, when he was pressed to read them, replied, 'No, I will never read Mr. Fletcher's "Checks," for if I did I should be of his mind.'"

In January, 1773, a memorial letter was written to the Vicar of Madeley by John Wesley, asking him to become his successor as leader and head of the Methodist people. Indeed, the venerable Father of Methodism would have had his instant aid, for his letter concludes:—

"Without conferring, therefore, with flesh and blood, come and strengthen the hands, comfort the heart, and share the labour of "Your affectionate friend and brother, "JOHN WESLEY."

Fletcher's response was tentative; not wholly a refusal, yet not an acceptance:—

"I would not leave this place," he concluded, in reply, "without a fuller persuasion that the time is quite come. Not that God uses me much here, but I have not yet sufficiently cleared my conscience from the blood of all men. Meantime, I beg the Lord to guide me by His counsel, and make me willing to go anywhere, or nowhere, to be anything, or nothing.

"Help by your prayers till you can bless by word of mouth, Rev. and dear Sir, your willing, though unprofitable servant in the Gospel.

"J. FLETCHER."

Wesley was greatly against his saintly friend hiding his light under the bushel of a country vicarage. Thirteen years later he wrote his own opinion of Fletcher's mission:—

"He was full as much called to sound an alarm through all the nation as Mr. Whitefield himself. Nay, abundantly more so, seeing he was far better qualified for that important work. He had a more striking person, equally good breeding, an equally winning address, together with a richer flow of fancy, a stronger understanding; a far greater treasure of learning, both in languages, philosophy, philology, and divinity; and, above all (which I can speak with fuller assurance, because I had a thorough knowledge both of one and the other), a more deep and constant communion with the Father, and with the Son, Jesus Christ."

Before a year had passed Fletcher's health began to fail, and he was glad to devote himself to the writing which proved so useful and convincing. To Mr. Ireland he wrote:—

"My throat is not formed for the labours of preaching. When I have preached three or four times together it inflames and fills up; and the efforts which I am then obliged to make heat my blood. Thus I am, by nature, as well as by the circumstances I am in, obliged to employ my time in writing a little. O that I may be enabled to do it to the glory of God!"

Perhaps nothing he wrote more fully conduced to that lofty purpose than his famous "Polemical Essay on the Twin Doctrines of Christian Imperfection and a Death Purgatory"; than which few clearer, more convincing, or more able vindications of Scriptural holiness have ever been written. Can aught be plainer than the definition of Christian perfection which follows:—

"...Christian perfection is nothing but the depth of evangelical repentance, the full assurance of faith, and the pure love of God and man shed abroad in a faithful believer's heart, by the Holy Ghost given unto him, to cleanse him, and to keep him clean, 'from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit'; and to enable him to fulfil the law of Christ' according to the talents he is entrusted with, and the circumstances in which he is placed in this world.... This is evident from the descriptions of Christian perfection which we find in the New Testament."

In a practical, almost homely, manner, Fletcher deals with questions we often hear put to-day. For instance :—

"How many baptisms, or effusions of the sanctifying Spirit, are necessary to cleanse a believer from all sin, and to kindle his soul into perfect love?... If you asked your physician how many doses of physic you must take before all the crudities of your stomach can be carried off, and your appetite perfectly restored, he would probably answer you that this depends upon the nature of those crudities, the strength of the medicine, and the manner in which your constitution will allow it to operate, and that, in general, you must repeat the dose, as you can bear, till the remedy has fully answered the desired end. I return a similar answer: If one powerful baptism of the Spirit 'seals you unto the day of redemption,' and 'cleanses you from all' moral 'filthiness,' so much the better. If two or more are necessary, the Lord can repeat them.

"Which is the way to Christian perfection? Shall we go to it by internal stillness, agreeably to the direction of Moses and David ... or shall we press after it by an internal wrestling according to the commands of Christ?... The way to perfection is by the due combination of prevenient, assisting free grace, and of submissive, assisted free will.... 'God worketh in you to will and to do,' says St. Paul. Here he describes the passive office of faith, which submits to, and acquiesces in, every divine dispensation and operation. 'Therefore work out your own salvation with fear and trembling,' and, of consequence, with haste, diligence, ardour, and faithfulness.... Would ye then wait aright for Christian perfection? Impartially admit the two Gospel axioms, and faithfully reduce them to practice. In order to this, let them meet in your hearts, as the two legs of a pair of compasses meet in the rivet which makes them one compound instrument.... When your heart quietly rests in God by faith, as it steadily acts the part of a passive receiver, it resembles the leg of the compasses which rests in the centre of a circle; and then the poet's expressions, 'restless, resigned' ("Restless, resigned, for God I wait; for God my vehement soul stands still."—Wesley), describes its fixedness in God. But when your heart swiftly moves towards God by faith, as it acts the part of a diligent worker; when your ardent soul follows after God, as a thirsty deer does after the water-brooks, it may be compared to the leg of the compasses which traces the circumference of a circle; and then these words of the poet, 'restless' and 'vehement,' properly belong to it.

"Is Christian perfection to be instantaneously brought down to us? or are we gradually to grow up to it? Shall we be made perfect in love by an habit of holiness suddenly infused into us, or by acts of feeble faith and feeble love so frequently repeated as to become strong, habitual, and evangelically natural to us?"

Such are the difficulties with which Fletcher deals, patiently and fully turning them inside out, comparing and contrasting, defining and enlarging, leading the reader step by step to the conclusion that Christian perfection is essentially the perfection of love, love, "the highest gift of God, humble, gentle, patient love," shed abroad in the heart of the believer by the perpetual anointing of the Holy Spirit.

As he finds his climax in Wesley's words, let us read them in the sense of his own quotation:—

"All visions, revelations, manifestations whatever, are little things compared to love.... The Heaven of heavens is love. There is nothing higher in religion; there is, in effect, nothing else. If you look for anything but more love, you are looking wide of the mark, you are getting out of the royal way. And when you are asking others, 'Have you received this or that blessing?' if you mean any thing but more love, you mean wrong; you are leading them out of the way, and putting them upon a false scent. Settle it, then, in your heart, that, from the moment God has saved you from all sin you are to aim at nothing but more of that love described in 1 Cor. xiii. You can go no higher than this till you are carried into Abraham's bosom."

One of the Greenwood family, with whom Fletcher frequently stayed, made a reference to this production of his thought, which it were well to remember: "Whoever has had the privilege of observing Mr. Fletcher's conduct will not scruple to say that he was a living comment on his own account of Christian perfection.... As far as man is able to judge, he did possess perfect humility, perfect resignation, and perfect love."



CHAPTER XIX.

FAILING HEALTH



Unwilling as he might be for further controversy, Fletcher quickly discovered that he had not yet done with it. Toplady, Vicar of a Devon village, and so-called author of "Rock of Ages," bitterly attacked a tract of Mr. Wesley's on Predestination, referring to some of his own Calvinian heresies. Wesley had neither time nor inclination to wage a paper war with an angry man. The work was undertaken by Fletcher, who found himself plunged afresh into the troubled waters of religious controversy. In his very Introduction Fletcher refuses to have anything to say to the personal charges vindictively hurled by his opponent:—

"These charges," he writes, "being chiefly founded upon Mr. Toplady's logical mistakes, they will, of their own accord, fall to the ground as soon as the mistakes on which they rest shall be exposed. May the God of truth and love grant that if Mr. Toplady has the honour of producing the best arguments, I, for one, may have the advantage of yielding to them! To be conquered by truth and love is to prove conqueror over our two greatest enemies—error and sin."

He then proceeds to deal with each of Toplady's seventy-three arguments in favour of Predestination, abolishing them one by one, but in a cool, calm, reasonable way which contrasts nobly and sweetly with the angry prejudice of the other.

His preaching tours were interfered with by this work, but he deemed himself to be doing as much, if not more, for God by pouring the daylight of heavenly reason upon the errors which darkened the minds, narrowed the perspective, and burdened the hearts of so many in that day of Calvinian controversy.

Strangely enough, Fletcher's next essay was into the arena of political strife—or, as he terms it, "Christian politics"— being led thereto by a pamphlet of Wesley's upon the American War of Independence then raging. He thoroughly prepared himself, not unnecessarily, for the storm which was to follow; for the minds of men were divided, and political speech has ever tended to undue licence and heat.

The Government of George III., however, considered that Fletcher had uttered words as valuable as they were timely. The Secretary of State for the Colonies introduced the tract to the Lord Chancellor, and he to the King. It was not long before Fletcher was asked if he would entertain the idea of any preferment in the Church; was there aught which the Lord Chancellor might do for him in this way? His reply chimed with every act of his life. "I want nothing," answered the saintly man; "nothing but more grace."

It was at this time that Fletcher's health showed grievous signs of failure. His arduous toil, long journeys, close writing, and insufficient food, had told all too surely upon a delicately-organised frame. A violent cough beset him, with slight but frequent hæmorrhage.

John Wesley advised an open-air cure, pressing him to spend some months on horse-back, touring with him through parts of England and Scotland. They set out together in the early spring, and travelled 1,100 or 1,200 miles in this way (not, however, into Scotland), taking such journeys as were suited to the invalid's strength. So greatly did he profit by some weeks in the saddle that Wesley declared if he would only have continued it for a few months longer he would have become a strong man once more.

In May, 1776, however, we find him at Bristol Hot Wells, debarred from his parochial work. Wesley suggested more saddle-cure, proposing a five-hundred mile tour to Cornwall, but Fletcher had by that time resigned himself to the hands of a physician who forbade the exertion, being out of sympathy with a remedy so far in advance of the times.

This medical adviser, however, mistook his case, reducing him to great weakness. A specialist who then undertook him restored his strength somewhat by more generous diet, although the relapse which followed was so serious that his friends thought him to be dying, and his congregation sang an intercessory hymn composed for the occasion.

From his multiplicity of remedies and advisers, however, Wesley rescued him once more, put him in the saddle, and led him through Oxfordshire, Northampton, and Norfolk, bringing him home greatly benefited for the open air.

Fresh-air treatment, however, needs wisely conducting in the untoward climate of England, and a self-prescribed ride upon a winter's day of bitter frost threw Fletcher again into suffering and danger. Friends nursed him in London, and a noted specialist was brought to him by Mr. Ireland, whose kindness was ever unfailing; while two or three physicians regularly attended and gave their best advice. Rest, silence, and a diet of the richest milk seemed most to help him, but it was a real sacrifice for him to hold his peace concerning the intense love of Jesus which filled his soul. Often by signs he would "stir up those about him to pray and praise."

"When he was able to converse, his favourite subject was the promise of the Father, the gift of the Holy Ghost, including the rich, peculiar blessing of union with the Father and the Son mentioned in the prayer of our Lord, recorded in John xvii. 'We must not be content,' said he, 'to be only cleansed from sin; we must be filled with the Spirit.' One asking him, What was to be experienced in the full accomplishment of the promise of the Father? 'Oh,' said he, 'what shall I say? All the sweetness of the drawings of the Father, all the love of the Son, all the rich effusions of peace and joy in the Holy Ghost, more than ever can be expressed are comprehended here! To attain it, the Spirit maketh intercession in the soul, like a God wrestling with a God.'"

Fletcher's conversation had a savour all its own. He heard and saw nothing which did not in some way suggest to him the ways and love of God. He was much in the habit of spiritualising all allusions of an earthly nature, and what in some men would have sounded like cant was refined by his inner spirituality to sanctified quaintness. For instance, Mr. Ireland with great difficulty persuaded Fletcher to sit for his portrait. While the artist was busy, his subject used the time in exhorting all in the room to spare no pains to get the outlines and colourings of the image of Jesus impressed upon their hearts. During the barbarous blood-letting to which his physicians subjected him, he would talk very tenderly of "the precious blood-shedding of the Lamb of God." On being entertained in the house of a friend he besought the cook to "stir up the Divine fire of love within his heart, that it might burn up all the rubbish therein, and raise a flame of holy affection"; while he addressed the housemaid as follows: "I entreat you to sweep every corner of your heart, that it may be fit to receive your Heavenly Guest!"

The Rev. Henry Venn met Fletcher at the house of Mr. Ireland, where they stayed together for six weeks. Referring to this visit some years later, Mr. Venn remarked to another clergyman:—

"Sir, Mr. Fletcher was a luminary—a luminary, did I say? He was a sun! I have known all the great men for these fifty years, but I have known none like him. I was intimately acquainted with him.... I never heard him say a single word which was not proper to be spoken, and which had not a tendency to minister grace to the hearers.... Never did I hear Mr. Fletcher speak ill of anyone. He would pray for those who walked disorderly, but he would not publish their faults."

Little wonder that both saint and sinner loved this Christly man!



CHAPTER XX.

BY THE SHORES OF LAKE LEMAN.



Unaware of the sickness of her saintly friend (whom she had not met for fifteen years), Miss Bosanquet was one day extremely startled to be asked, "Do you know that Mr. Fletcher is dying?" She at once began to entreat the Lord for him, and while upon her knees received the assurance of James v. 15: "The prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up."

Just at that time the Methodist Conference was held in Bristol, and Fletcher, who had returned to the ceaseless care of Mr. Ireland near by, was one day assisted by him into the assembly. A letter written by one who was present gives an interesting picture of the scene:—

"The whole assembly stood up as if moved by an electric shock. Mr. Wesley rose, ex cathedrâ, and advanced a few paces to receive his highly-respected friend and reverend brother, whose visage seemed strongly to bode that he stood on the verge of the grave, while his eyes, sparkling with seraphic love, indicated that he dwelt in the suburbs of Heaven.... He addressed the Conference, on their work and his own views, in a strain of holy and pathetic eloquence, which no language of mine can adequately express. The influence of his spirit and pathos seemed to bear down all before it....He had scarcely pronounced a dozen sentences before a hundred preachers, to speak in round numbers, were immersed in tears.... Mr. Wesley, in order to relieve his languid friend from the fatigue and injury which might arise from a too long and arduous exertion of the lungs through much speaking, abruptly kneeled down at his side, the whole congress of preachers doing the same, while, in a concise and energetic manner, he prayed for Mr. Fletcher's restoration to health, and a longer exercise of his ministerial labours. Mr. Wesley closed his prayer with the following prophetic promise, pronounced in his peculiar manner, and with a confidence and emphasis which seemed to thrill through every heart—'HE SHALL NOT DIE, BUT LIVE, AND DECLARE THE WORKS OF THE LORD?'"

This prophecy was afterwards blessedly fulfilled.

Madeley yearned for its now beloved Vicar, and thinking that all would be well if he were only once more in their midst, one of his parishioners brought a horse, designing to walk by him all the way from Bristol to Madeley. Two or three others came and entreated him to travel home in a post-chaise, but his physicians forbade his return to the scene of his old labours, and his parishioners, perforce, returned disappointed.

Miss Bosanquet thought to help the cure she now expected, and sent a favourite remedy of her own, which Fletcher acknowledged in a long letter, but did not try.

Before the year (1777) was spent, Fletcher had so far recovered his strength as to be able to travel, and, accompanied by Mr. Ireland, two of his daughters, and other friends, started for Switzerland, that once more Fletcher might breathe his native air.

A continental journey by post-chaise in December was not unlikely to prove trying, but though the axle-tree broke, and they were left on the side of a snow-covered hill with nine miles to walk in the piercing cold of a north wind, Mr. Fletcher bore the fatigue and cold as well as any of the party. By the end of February he was able to ride fifty-five miles in a day. A couple of months later he was welcomed to his father's house at Nyon once more, where the sweet, pure air, much riding and plenty of goats' milk conduced to the healing process at work within him.

"We have a fine shady wood near the lake," he wrote to a friend, "where I can ride in the cool all the day, and enjoy the singing of a multitude of birds." Of the way in which he spent his time he says, "I pray, have patience, rejoice, and write when I can; I saw wood in the house when I cannot go out; and eat grapes, of which I have always a basket by me."

"I met some children in my wood gathering strawberries," runs a letter to Mr. Ireland, who had not accompanied him to Nyon; "I spoke to them about our common Father. We felt a touch of brotherly affection. They said they would sing to their Father, as well as the birds, and followed me, attempting to make such music as you know is commonly made in these parts. I outrode them, but some of them had the patience to follow me home, and said they would speak with me. The people of the house stopped them, saying I would not be troubled with children. They cried, and said they were sure I would not say so, for I was their good brother. The next day, when I heard this, I enquired after them, and invited them to come and see me, which they have done every day since. I make them little hymns, which they sing. Some of them are under sweet drawings.... Last Sunday I met them in the wood; there were a hundred of them, and as many adults. Our first pastor has since desired me to desist from preaching in the wood... for fear of giving umbrage; and I have complied, from a concurrence of circumstances which are not worth mentioning; I therefore now meet them in my father's yard."

In the following winter Fletcher made an eighty-mile journey in order to assist his English medical adviser and friend, William Perronet, to secure a Swiss inheritance which he had gone to the Continent to claim. Part of the distance had to be performed on a sledge through "narrow passes cut through the snow...frequently on the brinks of precipices"; some of it was traversed on foot amid hardship and danger. But neither distances nor difficulties prevented Fletcher from speaking to all whom he could find ready to listen of Christ and His boundless love. William Perronet declared that he had preached the Gospel, not only by words and example, but by looks also, wherever he went.

From the early days of his frugal feasting upon bread and currants, Fletcher strongly believed in the plentiful use of fruit as food. His grapes were succeeded the following summer by a black-cherry diet, and for severe rheumatism he drank a decoction of pine-apple. He had also great faith in exercise, riding in preference to driving, walking whenever he had strength, and when unable to go out of doors allowing himself three minutes of jumping just before dinner. This may sound a curious form of exertion, yet it was recommended to him by two physicians.

Despite the blessing Fletcher was to the people around him—some of whom pleaded with him on their knees, with tears, to remain with them—there were many in authority who took the greatest exception to his "irregular" ways of doing good. He was actually "summoned before the Seigneur Bailiff, who sharply reprimanded him for preaching against Sabbath-breaking and stage plays." He forbade Mr. Fletcher preaching in any of the churches of his native country. Curiously enough, the minister who led this opposition died suddenly, as he was dressing for church, and a house was given over to the Vicar's use that he might there exhort the many who came to him for help and teaching.

While in Switzerland he composed a French poem called "La Louange" (Praise), which he afterwards enlarged under the title of "Grace and Nature," dedicating it, by permission, "To the Queen of Great Britain." He also wrote "The Portrait of St. Paul—the true Model for Christians and Pastors"; which was translated and published after his death.

Fletcher arrived in England in April, 1781, preaching at City Road Chapel on his way to Mr. Ireland's house near Bristol, where, because his friend was ill, he stayed a month, returning to Madeley in May, after having been absent four and a-half years.

He found his parish under a cloud, "but, alas!" he exclaimed, "it is not the luminous cloud by day, nor the pillar of fire by night. Even the few remaining professors stared at me the other day when I preached to them on these words: 'Ye shall receive the Holy Ghost, for the promise is unto you.'"

So sad was he about the spiritual condition of his parishioners, that he applied to Wesley for one of his helpers, who was then a master in Kingswood School; believing truly that two who were of one mind, both living in communion with the Holy Ghost, had great hope of bringing to life a dead parish, even though one were not an authorised curate, and the other but a sick vicar. Fletcher had learned to look past man—to God and God alone.



CHAPTER XXI.

A WONDERFUL WEDDING.



There existed no "chance" or "ill-fortune" for Fletcher. Whatever happened was subject, he believed, to the over-ruling providence and direction of God, and for him there was no second causes, no human marplots. He could always sing—

Thrice comfortable hope That calms my troubled breast; My Father's hand prepares the cup, And what He wills is best.

When in answer to a letter of his to Miss Bosanquet on Christian Perfection there was sent to him a reply which, by the forgetfulness of a friend, lay in a drawer for three years undelivered, he wrote on the morning of its belated arrival:—

"You speak, Madam, of a letter from Bath; I do not recollect, at present, your having favoured me with one from that place. Is it my lot to be tried or disappointed in this respect? Well, the hairs of our heads, and the letters of our friends, are all numbered; not one of the former falls, not one of the latter miscarries, without the will of Him to whose orders we have long since fully and cheerfully subscribed."

Miss Bosanquet was at this time in dire difficulties at Cross Hall. Perplexed by contrary advice, embarrassed by ever-increasing financial loss, opposed by those who ridiculed her work as a mission to the mean, "a call to the care of cows and horses, sheep and pigs," and criticised even by those to whom she acted as daily benefactor, her path was by no means an easy one, and eagerly she looked to the Lord for deliverance, although she knew not whence it would come.

She suffered more than she could ever describe through the public work she was called to do. "None, O my God, but Thyself, knows what I go through for every public meeting!" she exclaimed in her diary. Yet, though this shrinking was combined with exceedingly delicate health, she never shirked her duty, but went steadily on with housekeeping, farming, nursing, or public speaking, just as the Lord gave it to her to do—even consenting to stand upon a horse-block at Huddersfield to address a crowd whom otherwise she could not have reached. "Indeed, for none but Thee, my Lord," she cried after that ordeal, "would I take up this sore cross!... O do Thine own will upon me in all things!"

On the seventh day of June, a month after Fletcher's return to Madeley, was the fourteenth anniversary of Miss Bosanquet's troubled sojourn in Yorkshire. "On that day," she relates, "I took a particular view of my whole situation, and saw difficulties as mountains rise around me. Faith was hard put to it. The promises seemed to stand sure, and I thought the season was come; yet the waters were deeper than ever."

During this time, however, their correspondence had been renewed, and to Fletcher the thought of Mary Bosanquet was bringing more than ordinary comfort and joy.

Finding his health so greatly improved, he thought he might venture upon a still closer friendship, and the very day after Miss Bosanquet's "mountains" and "deeper waters" seemed to hem her in, a new door opened for her in a proposal of marriage, which assured her of the regard Fletcher had secretly treasured for her for twenty-five long years.

In August Mr. Fletcher travelled to Yorkshire to attend Wesley's conference at Leeds, and Mary Bosanquet's diary contains this brief record:—

"We corresponded with openness and freedom till August 1st, when he came to Cross Hall and abode there a month; preaching in different places with much power, and having opened our hearts to each other, both on temporals and spirituals, we believed it to be the order of God we should become one, when He should make our way plain."

That Fletcher could love, and that ardently, will be seen from a letter written a few weeks later to the woman of his choice:—

"O Polly! generous, faithful Polly! Dost thou indeed permit me to write to thy friends, and to ask the invaluable gift of thy hand? That hand, that is half mine shall be wholly mine...Polly! I read thy letter, and wondered at the expression in it—'If you think me worth writing for.' Ah, my holy, my loving, my lovely, my precious friend, I think thee worth writing for with my vital blood; I am only sorry that I had not thee beside me to write with thy wisdom...

"'Difficulties!' If thou hast any I shall gladly share them with thee, and think myself well repaid with the pleasure of praying and praising with thee and for thee. Therefore, do not talk of struggling through alone. I charge thee, by thy faithfulness, let me be alone as little time as thou canst...

"I thank thee for that believing sentence—'But all shall be right.' The worst thy friends can do is to keep thy money, which I look upon as dung and dross in comparison of thee. Ah, Polly! with the treasure of thy friendship, and the unsearchable riches of Christ, how rich thinkest thou I am? Count—cast up—but thou wilt never make out the amazing sum....

"I embrace thee in spirit, and more than mix my soul with thine." (From "Wesley's Designated Successor.")

Of the oneness established between them John Wesley writes interestingly:—

"He (Mr. Fletcher) was upon all occasions very uncommonly reserved in speaking of himself, whether in writing or conversation. He hardly ever said anything concerning himself, unless it slipped from him unawares. . . . This defect was indeed, in some measure, supplied by the entire intimacy which subsisted between him and Mrs. Fletcher. He did not willingly, much less designedly, conceal anything from her. They had no secrets with regard to each other, but had indeed one house, one purse, and one heart. Before her, it was his invariable rule to think aloud; always to open the window in his breast." The story of Mary Bosanquet's deliverance from her Cross Hall embarrassments is practically a leaf from God's Providence Book.

At the end of October the aspect of her difficulties had in no sense changed, but it was borne in upon both herself and Mr. Fletcher that they should act as though God were indeed working for them. They agreed to marry in a fortnight, but for the first week all remained as it was. In the beginning of the second week a gentleman arrived to buy Cross Hall for £1,620. Three days later another purchased the farm implements and stock. One by one, each inmate of the house was provided for with the exception of a poor cripple with great infirmities, whose home had been with Miss Bosanquet for sixteen years. The very night before the wedding even she was provided for. Sally Lawrence, the adopted girl, was to be taken with them to Madeley.

One little item still remained to trouble the bride—a little payment for the estate was not to be made immediately, and in order to provide certain sums to settle the various Cross Hall inmates in suitable homes, as well as to pay a few current accounts, £100 was required. The matter was laid in faith before Him to whom belongs all the silver and the gold, and by the next post came a bank-note for £100 as a present from Mary Bosanquet's youngest brother!

The diary is brief as usual concerning the wedding, but it meant very much to both of them that, without a hindrance remaining, the bride should be able to write:—

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

Mrs. Crosby gives us a look-in upon that memorable marriage day:—

"On the morning of the day several friends met together. They reached Cross Hall before family prayers. Mr. Fletcher . . . read Rev. xix. 7- 9: 'Let us be glad, and rejoice, and give honour to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb is come,' etc. Mr. Fletcher then spoke from these verses in such a manner as greatly tended to spiritualise the solemnities of the day. He said, 'We invite you to our wedding, but the Holy Ghost invites you to the marriage of the Lamb. The bride, the Lamb's wife, represents the whole Church, triumphant and militant united together. You may all be the bride, and Jesus will condescend to be the Bridegroom. Make yourselves ready by being filled with the Spirit.' He then engaged in prayer. . . . They were married in the face of the congregation; the doors were opened, and everyone came in that would. We then returned home, and spent a considerable time in singing and prayer. There were nearly twenty of us....

"From dinner, which was a spiritual meal as well as a natural one, until tea-time, our time was chiefly spent in prayer or singing. After singing the covenant hymn Mr. Fletcher went to Mrs. Fletcher and said to her, 'Well, my dearest friend, will you unite with me in joining ourselves in a perpetual covenant to the Lord? Will you with me serve Him in His members? Will you help me to bring souls to the Blessed Redeemer? And in every possible way this day lay yourself under the strongest ties you can, to help me to glorify my gracious Lord?' She answered, 'May God help me so to do!'

"In the evening Mr. Valton preached in the hall from 'What shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord.' His words did not fall to the ground; many were greatly refreshed. After the preaching there was a sweet contest among us; everyone thought, 'I, in particular, owe the greatest debt of praise'; at length we agreed to sing—

"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!"



CHAPTER XXII.

LIFE AT MADELEY.



When a post-chaise drove up to Cross Hall on January and, the crack of the whip made sweet music in the ears of Mrs. Fletcher, for behind those horses she was to make her bridal journey to Madeley, where they were to take up their work together in the name of the Lord.

Cries the praiseful diary:—

"How shall I find language to express the goodness of the Lord! I know no want but that of more grace. I have a husband in everything suited to me. He bears with all my faults and failings in a manner that continually reminds me of the text, 'Love your wives as Christ loved the church.' His constant endeavour is to make me happy; his strongest desire is for my spiritual growth. He is, in every sense of the word, the man my highest reason chooses to obey."

Fletcher himself had greatly changed his opinion since the indictment of his "Reasons for and against Matrimony." To a friend he wrote his new sentiments thus:—

"God declared it was not good that man, a social being, should live alone, and therefore He gave him a helpmeet for him. For the same reason our Lord sent forth His disciples, two and two. Had I searched the three kingdoms I could not have found one brother willing to share gratis my weal, woe, and labours, and complaisant enough to unite his fortunes to mine; but God has found me a partner, a sister, a wife, to use St. Paul's language, who is not afraid to face with me the colliers and bargemen of my parish, until death part us.

"Buried together in our country village, we shall help one another to trim our lamps, and wait for the coming of the Heavenly Bridegroom."

Mrs. Fletcher's introduction to her husband's parishioners was sufficiently homely and simple. The Madeley kitchen was full of those who had come from a distance, and who were accustomed to take refreshments there between the two services. He led her forward into their midst, adding to his introduction the words, "I have not married this wife for myself only, but for your sakes also."

Only a few weeks later they were honoured by a visit from John Wesley himself, who, friend of method as he was, felt anxious that they should lay down an exactly regular way of ordering their time, even as Mary Bosanquet had done for her larger household in the past.

Whether they complied with the suggestion or not is unrecorded, but Mrs. Fletcher makes beautiful mention of interruptions to her ordinary routine, caused by unexpected visitors:—

"I have this day been engaged in company, and sweetly met the order of God therein."

Blessed secret of peace!

God had so united this saintly man and woman in love and grace that they had abundant cause to write of each other as we find them doing. Once more to the diary:—

"May 30th, 1782.... I have the kindest and tenderest of husbands; of so spiritual a man, and so spiritual a union, I had no adequate conception."

To Charles Wesley Fletcher writes in his turn :-

"I thank you for your hint about exemplifying the love of Christ and His Church. I hope we do.... My wife is far better to me than the Church to Christ, so that if the parallel fails, it will be on my side."

Between November, 1782, and January, 1783, peace was made by Great Britain with America, France, and Spain. Fletcher made this the occasion of another poem, written in French, entitled, "An Essay upon the Peace of 1783. Dedicated to the Archbishop of Paris."

Five months after their marriage Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher were invited to visit the Methodists of Dublin. The Vicar had been absent so long from his people that he found further absence just then impossible. Sixteen months later, however, Dr. Coke came from Dublin and renewed the invitation, which they accepted.

They set forth upon their five-day journey, attended by the faithful Sally Lawrence, Mr. Fletcher preaching unannounced at Shrewsbury and Llangollen by the way. They spent seven weeks in Dublin, and from accounts written by others, the preaching of the Vicar and the faithful class-leading and personal dealing of his wife were blessed in a remarkable manner. A great revival of pure religion followed; as an evidence of which the membership of the Methodist Society in that city was permanently raised from five hundred to one thousand, and a great hunger to know God and to like Him was awakened in the hearts of the people.

One church, indeed, opened its doors to him, but when it was known that he was preaching also in Methodist meeting-houses he was given to understand how unwelcome he would be in any of the pulpits of his clerical brethren. The French Church alone said, "Come!" and many flocked there who could understand no word of what he said. When asked why they went when this was the case, they replied, "We went to look at him, for heaven seemed to beam from his countenance."

The grateful Methodists thought it only fair to refund the travelling expenses of the Vicar and his wife, handing him a purse of twenty-five guineas for that purpose. At first he refused it, but being greatly pressed, he thanked them very heartily, and gracefully handed it over to the Society fund for the sick poor, which he had heard was in a very needy condition.

Life at Madeley was very full. Fletcher regularly visited the eighteen public-houses of his parish, some of them every Sunday, in addition to his other work, and, as a result of his labours and observations, he wrote a pamphlet entitled "Three National Grievances," in which he dealt largely with drunkenness and smuggling. Taxation was the third "grievance," wholly influenced in Fletcher's mind by the other two. The pamphlet was sent to every Member of Parliament, being intended to show them the necessity for Social Reform.

In the wonderful way of quietly busy men, Fletcher made time to teach in his Madeley School every day, visiting another as often as occasion permitted, which he had established in Madeley Wood. He also founded Sunday Schools, and quickly gathered into them three hundred children, whom he further dealt with in special children's meetings, which were to him a great delight. He had a unique fashion of teaching; quick to avail himself of every passing incident as illustration; he never failed to keep their attention or to engage their affection—the latter being accomplished without any effort upon his part. Until the Thursday before his death, Fletcher kept up these meetings, and he left behind him an unfinished catechism designed for the use of the little ones he so much loved.

Much of the Vicar's time was occupied in visiting the sick. He would show himself intensely grieved if he were not at once apprised of any illness, and as he preached so much on the far outskirts of his parish—ten, twelve, and sixteen miles distant—the calls were many. Whenever they came he was ready. On the bitterest winter's night he would give his unfailing answer through the window to any messenger, "I will be with you immediately"; and through storm or frost he set off at once to give the comfort of his presence and the power of his prayers.

With supreme disregard of personal need, Fletcher was never happier than when he had given away every penny in the house. He religiously avoided debt, paying ready money for all he had, but when due claims were met he loved to pillage the household resources for the benefit of his sick poor. Whether he had any dinner mattered little, but delight seized hold upon him when his helpmate was discovered in the preparation of delicacies for his parish invalids.

Mrs. Fletcher would often take some article to his wardrobe and find the drawers almost swept clear of linen. Others, he thought, had needed the garments more than he.

A poor widow called one day to pour out a story of difficulties with which she found herself burdened. Money there was none at the moment, but the Vicar was not to be cheated out of this new chance of helping another. Striding into the kitchen, he laid hands upon the pewter dishes, of whose polish Sally Lawrence was so proud, and handed them to the widow with the remark that "a wooden trencher served better."

Day by day, indeed, John Fletcher lost himself in the needs and spirit of his Master, finding in his increasingly clear view of God, his ever more intimate fellowship with Christ, abiding treasure and keen delight which were beyond even his power of felicitous expression. It was in keeping with his hourly experience that he exclaimed in a letter to Lady Mary Fitzgerald :—

"Who are we, my lady, that we should not be swallowed up by the holy, loving, living Spirit, who fills Heaven and earth? Whether we consider it or not, there He is, a true, holy, loving, merciful God. Assent to it, my lady, believe it, rejoice in it. Let Him be God, all in all; your God in Christ Jesus. What an ocean of love to swim in— to dive into!"



CHAPTER XXIII.

"GOD IS LOVE!"



In spite of its beautiful situation, Madeley was wont at times to be swept by a malignant fever, which carried away many of its victims to the grave. Shortly before the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher to Dublin, such a visitation had occurred, the faithful Sally being attacked by it, and nursed to convalescence by mistress and friend.

Two years later it became Sally's turn to play the part of nurse, for Mrs. Fletcher, who had visited two parishioners who were dying of the pestilence, was herself stricken.

It was a terrible time of testing for her devoted husband. In anguish of mind, but with true surrender of his will to God, he yielded his treasure upon an altar of sacrifice akin to that of Abraham's building; but in answer to his devotion and prayer he received her again as alive from the dead.

With a peculiarly solemn joy he welcomed his wife back to his side to share the work they so truly loved, but anxious lest he should place too much reliance upon the precious things God had given him here, he would call to her several times in a day to drop every duty for a few moments that together they might enjoy communion with God. Says Mrs. Fletcher:—

"We spent much time in prayer for the fulness of the Spirit, and were led to an act of abandonment (as we called it) of our whole selves into the hands of God, to do or to suffer whatever was pleasing to Him."

* * * * *

Only a fortnight after his wife's recovery Fletcher was out visiting his people from three in the afternoon until nine at night, and, August though it was, he returned with a chill.

The following Sunday he almost fainted while reading prayers in the church. His wife pressed up to the desk with a friend or two, and begged him to leave the service to another. He gently refused; windows were opened, some flowers brought to refresh him with their sweet scent, and he was able to mount the steps of the pulpit, where he preached with power from "How excellent is Thy lovingkindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of Thy wings."

The communion service which succeeded was a very lengthy one, but he administered to those who came until nearly two o'clock, breaking the silence with many verses of hymns and exhortations.

When the long service was over, Mrs. Fletcher led him straight to bed, but the exertion had been too much; he fainted, and the two following days lay upon a couch and slept much.

Mrs. Fletcher, very simply but touchingly, tells the story of those few last days:—

"On Wednesday, August 10th, he told me he had received such a manifestation of the full meaning of the words, 'God is love,' that he could not express it. 'It fills me,' he said, 'it fills me every moment. O Polly! my dear Polly! God is love! Shout! Shout aloud! Oh! it so fills me that I want a gust of praise to go to the ends of the earth. But it seems as if I could not speak much longer. Let us fix upon a sign between ourselves' (tapping me twice with his finger). 'By this I mean that God is love, and we will draw each other into God. Observe! by this we will draw each other into God.' Sally coming in, he cried, 'O Sally! God is love! Shout, both of you! I want to hear you shout His praise!' All this time his medical attendant hoped he was in no danger. He knew his disease to be the fever; but as he had no bad headache, slept much without the least delirium, and had an almost regular pulse, the symptoms were thought to be favourable.

"On Thursday, August 11th, his speech began to fail, but to his friendly doctor he would not be silent while he had any power to speak, often saying, 'O Sir, you take much thought for my body; give me leave to take thought for your soul.' When I could scarcely understand anything he said, I spoke the words, 'God is love!' Instantly he caught them, and broke out in a rapture, 'God is love, love, love! O for the gust of praise I want to sound.' Here his voice again failed. If I named his sufferings he would smile, and make the sign.

"On Friday, August 12th, finding his body covered with spots, I so far understood them as to feel a sword pierce through my soul. As I knelt by his bed, with my hand in his, entreating the Lord to be with us in this tremendous hour, he strove to say many things, but could not. At length, pressing my hand, and often repeating the sign, he breathed out 'Head of the Church, be head to my wife!'"

Mrs. Fletcher then repeated two lines in which he had always found great comfort:—

Jesu's blood, through earth and skies, Mercy, free, boundless mercy, cries.

With much difficulty he responded :—

Mercy's full power I soon shall prove, Loved with an everlasting love.

"If Jesus is very present with thee lift thy right hand," said his wife, as she bent over him. He raised it. Waiting a moment or two she said, "If the prospect of glory opens before thee, repeat the sign." Twice he lifted that feeble right hand in testimony, then fell into coma, lying with his eyes open and fixed.

While this was taking place in the Vicarage the church close by was the scene of many tears. Fletcher's people gathered there from time to time to pour out their supplications to God that He would spare their beloved pastor; but none could find it in his heart to lead a service, or raise a hymn.

In the cottages whole families sat waiting for news, while messengers, who went to and from the Vicarage, were waylaid on every side for tidings of joy or sorrow.

Numbers of poor villagers were wont to come from a distance every Sunday, being entertained in their Vicar's kitchen between the services. These lingered about the house in distress, unable to persuade themselves to seek their distant homes while one so dear to them lay probably dying.

"If we could only look at him once more!" they whispered pleadingly.

Accordingly the door of the sick room was flung wide, the curtains drawn back from the bed, and this infinitely pathetic procession of peasants crept softly past the open door, each one pausing for a long look of love upon him whom they revered as spiritual father and saint.

For the first time in their experience there was no kindling light in his eye, no gleam of welcome from the lips which had so often parted in smiles and blessing. His spirit hovered on the borders of a land beyond their reach.

That Sabbath Day had scarcely spent itself when from earthly sleep Jean Guillaume De La Fléchère entered into eternal waking, so one in spirit with his Lord that the change could have been no more surprising than to Enoch of old.

To the woman who knelt at his bedside until that last dread moment, the parting was no ordinary sorrow.

"I am truly a desolate woman, who hath no helper but Thee!" she wailed.

"Three years nine months and two days I have possessed my heavenly- minded husband; but now the sun of my earthly joy is set for ever! and my soul is filled with an anguish which only finds its consolation in a total abandonment and resignation to the will of God.

"That awful night, when I had hung over my dear husband for many hours, expecting every breath to be his last, and during which time he could hot speak to, nor take any notice of me, a flood of unspeakable sorrow overspread my heart, and quite overwhelmed my spirit.... My fatigue had been great; I was barely recovered from my fever, and this stroke so tore my nerves that it was an inlet to much temptation. In former parts of my life I have felt deep sorrow, but such were now my feelings that no words I am able to think of can convey an adequate idea thereof.

"The next morning, O my God! what a cup didst Thou put into my hand! Not only my beloved husband, but, it appeared to me, my Saviour also was torn from me! Clouds and darkness surrounded both soul and body. The sins even of my infancy came before me, and assaulted me as thick as hail! I seemed to have no love, no faith, no light—and yet I could not doubt but I should see the smiling face of God in glory!...An unshaken belief that Christ would bring me through all, was my great support; and it seemed to me that I must have been annihilated had I been moved from that anchor.... All my religion seemed shrunk into one point, viz., a constant cry, 'Thy will be done! I will, yes; I will glorify Thee! even in this fire.'"

It was at first a matter of some distress to Mrs. Fletcher that she must leave the home where they had been so happy together. Every other place alike looked desolate. To her relief it was arranged that she should rent the Vicarage as long as she wished to do so, working as she chose among the people of the parish. The son of the patron of the living became the new Vicar, and as he did not intend to reside at Madeley Mrs. Fletcher was allowed to recommend the Curate.

Thus, by God's grace, was the labour of the saintly Vicar carried on and confirmed. The sweetness of his spirit lingered in fragrant influence upon the hearts of those whom he had blessed in life, and though eulogies abound of his remarkable talent, his gentle courtesy, his unfailing kindness, his beauty of holiness, none who spoke of him could ever forget that for himself he had only claimed the position which almost every morning and evening of his later life he had thus defined:—

I nothing have, I nothing am; My treasure's in the bleeding Lamb, Both now and evermore.

In the desolate stillness of Madeley Vicarage, where she lived for thirty years after bidding him farewell, Mrs. Mary Fletcher performed the last bit of earthly service she might do in the name of her beloved; she wrote the inscription, which appears on the following page, for his tombstone in the old churchyard they had so often crossed side by side.

HERE LIES THE BODY OF THE REV. JOHN WILLIAM DE LA FLÉCHÈRE, VICAR OF MADELEY, WHO WAS BORN AT NYON, IN SWITZERLAND, SEPTEMBER THE 12TH, 1729, AND FINISHED HIS COURSE AUGUST THE 14TH, 1785, IN THIS VILLAGE, WHERE HIS UNEXAMPLED LABOURS WILL LONG BE REMEMBERED.

HE EXERCISED HIS MINISTRY FOR THE SPACE OF TWENTY-FIVE YEARS IN THIS PARISH WITH UNCOMMON ZEAL AND ABILITY.

MANY BELIEVED HIS REPORT, AND BECAME HIS JOY AND CROWN OF REJOICING; WHILE OTHERS CONSTRAINED HIM TO TAKE UP THE LAMENTATION OF THE PROPHET:

"ALL THE DAY LONG HAVE I STRETCHED OUT MY HANDS UNTO A DISOBEDIENT AND GAINSAYING PEOPLE; YET SURELY MY JUDGMENT IS WITH THE LORD, AND MY WORK WITH MY GOD."

——————-

"HE BEING DEAD, YET SPEAKETH."



CHAPTER XXIV.

EXTRACTS FROM FLETCHER'S LETTERS.



* * * * *

CHRIST-EXALTING JOY.

To SARAH RYAN, Wesley's housekeeper at Bristol, and to her friend, DOROTHY FURLEY:

"October 1st, 1759.

"DEAR SISTERS,—I have been putting off writing to you lest the action of writing should divert my soul from the awful and delightful worship it is engaged in. But I now conclude I shall be no loser if I invite you to love Him my soul loveth; to dread Him my soul dreadeth; to adore Him my soul adoreth.

"Sink with me before the throne of Grace; and, while the cherubim veil their faces, and cry out in tender fear and exquisite trembling, 'Holy! Holy! Holy!' let us put our mouths in the dust, and echo back the solemn sound, 'Holy! Holy! Holy!' Let us plunge ourselves in that ocean of purity. Let us try to fathom the depths of Divine mercy; and, convinced of the impossibility of such an attempt, let us lose ourselves in them. Let us be comprehended by God, if we cannot comprehend Him. Let us be supremely happy in God. Let the intenseness of our happiness border upon misery, because we can make Him no return. Let our head become waters, and our eyes a fountain of tears— tears of humble repentance, of solemn joy, of silent admiration, of exalted adoration, of raptured desires, of inflamed transports, of speechless awe. My God and my all! Your God and your all! Our God and our all! Praise Him! With our souls blended into one by Divine love, let us with one mouth glorify the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; our Father, who is over all, through all, and in us all. "I charge you before the Lord Jesus, who giveth life and more abundant life; I entreat you by all the actings of faith, the stretchings of hope, the flames of love you have ever felt, sink to greater depths of self- abasing repentance; rise to greater heights of Christ-exalting joy. And let Him, who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that you can ask or think, carry on, and fulfil in you the work of faith with power; with that power whereby He subdueth all tilings unto Himself. Be steadfast in hope, immovable in patience and love, always abounding in the outward and inward labour of love; and receive the end of your faith, the salvation of your souls. "I am, dear sisters, your well- wisher,

"JOHN FLETCHER."

* * * * *

"Only a Methodist!"

To CHARLES WESLEY:

"MADELEY, October 12th, 1761.

"MY DEAR SIR,—You have always the goodness to encourage me, and your encouragements are not unseasonable; for discouragements follow one another with very little intermission. Those which are of an inward nature are sufficiently known to you; but some others are peculiar to myself, especially those I have had for eight days past, during Madeley wake.

"Seeing that I could not suppress these bacchanals, I did all in my power to moderate their madness; but my endeavours have had little or no effect. You cannot well imagine how much the animosity of my parishioners is heightened, and with what boldness it discovers itself against me, because I preached against drunkenness, shows, and bull- baiting. The publicans and maltmen will not forgive me. They think that to preach against drunkenness, and to cut their purse, is the same thing.

"My church begins not to be so well filled as it has been, and I account for it thus: the curiosity of some of my hearers is satisfied, and others are offended by the word; the roads are worse; and if it shall ever please the Lord to pour His Spirit upon us, the time is not yet come. The people, instead of saying, 'Let us go up to the house of the Lord,' exclaim, 'Why should we go and hear a Methodist?'

"I should lose all patience with my flock if I had not more reason to be satisfied with them than with myself. My own barrenness furnishes me with excuses for theirs; and I wait the time when God shall give seed to the sower and increase to the seed sown. In waiting that time, I learn the meaning of this prayer, 'Thy will be done.'

"Believe me, your sincere, though unworthy friend,

"J. FLETCHER."

* * * * *

THE BELIEVER'S SONG.

To Miss HATTON:

"MADELEY, January 9th, 1767.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,—The dream of life will soon be over; the morning of eternity will soon succeed. Away then with all the shadows of time! Away from them to the Eternal Substance—to Jesus, the First and the Last, by whom, and for whom, all things consist. If you take Jesus to be your head, by the mystery of faith, you will be united to the resurrection and the life. The bitterness of death is past, my dear friend. Only look to Jesus. He died for you—died in your place—died under the frowns of Heaven, that we might die under its smiles. Regard neither unbelief nor doubt. Fear neither sin nor hell. Choose neither life nor death. All these are swallowed up in the immensity of Christ, and are triumphed over in His Cross. Fight the good fight of faith. Hold fast your confidence in the atoning, sanctifying blood of the Lamb of God. Confer no more with flesh and blood. Go, meet the Bridegroom. Behold He cometh! Trim your lamp. Quit yourself like a soldier of Jesus. I entreat you, as a companion in tribulation; I charge you, as a minister, go, at every breath you draw, to Him, who says, 'Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out'; and 'He that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.' Joyfully sing the believer's song, 'O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ!' Let your surviving friends triumph over you, as one faithful unto death as one triumphing in death itself."

* * * * *

CHRIST THE TRUTH.

To Mr. CHARLES PERRONET, who was suffering great affliction of body and mind:

"1772, September 7th.—MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—No cross, no crown; the heavier the cross, the brighter the crown.

"Oh, for a firm and lasting faith, To credit all the Almighty saith!

"Faith—I mean the evidence of things not seen—is a powerful cordial to support and exhilarate us under the heaviest pressures of pain and temptation. By faith, we live upon the invisible, eternal God; we believe that in Him we live, move, and have our being; insensibly we slide from self into God, from the visible into the invisible, from the carnal into the spiritual, from time into eternity. Here our spirits are ever young; they live in and upon the very fountain of strength, sprightliness, and joy. Oh! my dear friend, let us rest more upon the truth as it is in Jesus. Of late, I have been brought to feed more upon Jesus as the truth. I see more in Him in that character than I ever did. I see Christ the truth of my life, friends, relations, sense, food, raiment, light, fire, resting-place. All out of Him are but shadows. All in Him are blessed sacraments; I mean visible signs of the fountain, or vehicles to convey the streams of inward grace."

* * * * *

UNINTERRUPTED PEACE.

To CHARLES WESLEY:

"MADELEY, May 11th, 1776.

"MY DEAR BROTHER,—What are you doing in London? Are you ripening as fast for the grave as I am? How should we lay out every moment for God? For some days I have had the symptoms of an inward consumptive decay—spitting of blood, etc. Thank God! I look at our last enemy with great calmness.

"I still look for an outpouring of the Spirit, inwardly and outwardly. Should I die before that great day I shall have the consolation to see it from afar. Thank God! I enjoy uninterrupted peace in the midst of my trials, which are, sometimes, not a few. Joy also I possess; but I look for joy of a superior nature. I feel myself, in a good degree, dead to praise and dispraise. I hope, at least, that it is so, because I do not feel that the one lifts me up, or that the other dejects me. I want to see a Pentecost Christian Church; and, if it is not to be seen at this time upon earth, I am willing to go and see that glorious wonder in Heaven. How is it with you? Are you ready to seize the crown in the name of the Redeemer reigning in your heart? We run a race towards the grave. John is likely to outrun you, unless you have a swift foot.

"Let us pray that God would renew our youth, as that of the eagle, that we may bear fruit in our old age. I hope I shall see you before my death; if not, let us rejoice at the thought of meeting in Heaven."

* * * * *

A WITNESS IN WORD AND DEED.

To certain Methodists at Hull and York who invited him to visit the great Methodist county:

"LONDON, November 12th, 1776.

"MY DEAR BRETHREN,—I thank you for your kind letters and invitations to visit you, and the brethren about you. I have often found an attraction in Yorkshire. My desire was indeed a little selfish; I wanted to improve by the conversation of my unknown brethren. If God bids me be strong again, I shall be glad to try if He will be pleased to comfort us by the mutual faith both of you and me. My desire is that Christ may be glorified both in my life and death. If I have any desire to live at any time, it is principally to be a witness, in word and deed, of the dispensation of power from on high; and to point out that kingdom which does not consist in word, but in power, even in righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, the Spirit of power. I am writing an essay upon that important part of the Christian doctrine.

"Should I be spared to visit you, the keep of a horse, and the poor rider, will be all the burden I should lay on you; and that will be more than my Heavenly Master indulged Himself in. I am just setting out for Norwich with Mr. Wesley, whose renewed strength and immense labours astonish me. What a pattern for preachers! His redeeming the time is, if I mistake not, matchless.

"Should I never have the pleasure of thanking you in person for your brotherly regard, I beg you will endeavour to meet me in the Kingdom of our Father, where distance of time and place is lost in the fulness of Him who is all in all. The way ye know—the penitential way of a heart-felt faith working by obedient love."

* * * * *

IN THE BALANCES.

To Mr. IRELAND:

"NEWINGTON, January 29th, 1777.

"Thanks be to God, and to my dear friend, for favours upon favours, for undeserved love and the most endearing tokens of it!

"I have received your obliging letters, full of kind offers; and your jar, full of excellent grapes. May God open to you the book of life, and seal upon your heart all the offers and promises it contains! May the treasures of Christ's love, and all the fruits of the Spirit, be open to my dear friend, and unwearied benefactor!

"Last Sunday, Providence sent me Dr. Turner, who, under God, saved my life, twenty-three years ago, in a dangerous illness; and I am inclined to try what his method will do. He orders me asses' milk, chicken, etc.; forbids me riding, and recommends the greatest quietness. He prohibits the use of Bristol water; advises some water of a purgative nature; and tries to promote expectoration by a method that so far answers, though I spit by it more blood than before.

"With respect to my soul, I find it good to be in the balance—awfully weighed every day for life or death. I thank God the latter has lost its sting, and endears to me the Prince of Life. But oh, I want Christ, my resurrection, to be a thousand times more dear to me; and I doubt not He will be so, when I am filled with the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him. Let us wait for that glory, praising God for all we have received, and trusting Him for all we have not yet received. Let our faith do justice to His veracity; our hope to His goodness; and our love to all His perfections. It is good to trust in the Lord; and His saints like well to hope in Him."

* * * * *

MAKE HASTE TO CHRIST.

To Mr. WILLIAM WASE:

"BRISTOL, November, 1777.

"MY DEAR BROTHER,—Go to Mrs. Cound, and tell her I charge her, in the name of God, to give up the world, to set out with all speed for Heaven, and to join the few about her who fear God. If she refuses, call again; call weekly, if not daily, and warn her from me till she is ripe for glory. Tell the brethren at Broseley that I did my body an injury the last time I preached to them on the Green; but, if they took the warning, I do not repine. Give my love to George Crannage; tell him to make haste to Christ, and not to doze away his last days.

"The physician has not yet given me up; but, I bless God, I do not wait for his farewell, to give myself up to my God and Saviour. I write by stealth, as my friends here would have me forbear writing, and even talking; but I will never part with my privilege of writing and shouting, 'Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory' over sin, death, and the grave 'through Jesus Christ.' To Him be glory for ever and ever! Amen!"

* * * * *

DIG HARD FOR HIDDEN TREASURE.

To the Methodists in and about Madeley:

"MY DEAR COMPANIONS IN TRIBULATION,—Peace and mercy, faith, hope, and love be multiplied to you all from the Father of mercies through the Lord Jesus Christ, by the spirit of grace! I thank you for your kind remembrance of me in your prayers. I am yet spared to pray for you. Oh, that I had more power with God! I would bring down Heaven into all your hearts. Strive together in love for the living faith, the glorious hope, the sanctifying love once delivered to the saints. Look to Jesus. Move on; run yourselves in the heavenly race, and let each sweetly draw his brother along, till the whole company appears before the redeeming God in Sion.

"I hope God will, in His mercy, spare me to see you in the flesh; and if I cannot labour for you, I shall gladly suffer with you. If you will put health into my flesh, joy into my heart, and life into my whole frame, be of one heart and of one soul. Count nothing your own but your sin and shame; and bury that dreadful property in the grave of our Saviour. Let all you are and have be His who bought you. Dig hard in the Gospel mines for hidden treasure. Blow hard the furnace of prayer with the bellows of faith until you are melted into love, and the dross of sin is purged out of every heart. Get together into Jesus, the heavenly ark, and sweetly sail into the ocean of eternity; so shall you be true miners, furnacemen, and bargemen. Farewell, in Jesus! Tell Mrs. Counds I shall greatly rejoice if she remembers Lot's wife."

* * * * *

THE DREGS OF LIFE.

To Mr. IRELAND:

"MADELEY, September 13th, 1784.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,—I keep in my sentry-box till Providence removes me. My situation is quite suited to my little strength. I may do as much or as little as I please, according to my weakness; and I have an advantage, which I can have nowhere else in such a degree—my little field of action is just at my own door, so that if I happen to overdo myself, I have but to step from my pulpit to my bed, and from my bed to my grave. If I had a body full of vigour, and a purse full of money, I should like well enough to travel about as Mr. Wesley does; but as Providence does not call me to it I readily submit. The snail does best in its shell; were it to aim at galloping, like the racehorse, it would be ridiculous indeed. My wife is quite of my mind with respect to the call we have to a sedentary life. We are two poor invalids, who between us make half a labourer.

"We shall have tea cheap and light very dear; I don't admire the change. Twenty thousand chambers walled up, and filled with foul air, are converted into so many dungeons for the industrious artisan, who, being compelled by this murderous tax, denies himself the benefit of light and air. Blessed be God! the light of Heaven and the air of the spiritual world are still free.

"My dear partner sweetly helps me to drink the dregs of life, and to carry with ease the daily cross. We are not long for this world—we see it, we feel it; and, by looking at death and his conqueror, we fight beforehand our last battle with that last enemy whom our dear Lord has overcome for us. That we may triumph over him with an humble, Christian courage, is the prayer of my dear friend, yours,

"JOHN FLETCHER."



CHAPTER XXV.

EXTRACTS FROM FLETCHER'S WRITINGS.



THE SIN OF UNBELIEF.

"Unbelief is a sin of so deep a dye that the devils in hell cannot commit the like. Our Saviour never prayed, wept, bled, and died for devils. He never said to them, 'Ye will not come unto Me, that ye might have life.' They can never be so madly ungrateful as to slight a Saviour. Mercy never wooed their stubborn, proud hearts as it does ours. They have abused grace, it is true, but they never trampled mercy underfoot. This more than diabolical sin is reserved for thee, careless sinner. Now thou hearest Christ compassionately say in the text, 'Ye will not come unto Me,' and thou remainest unmoved; but the time cometh when Jesus, who meekly entreats, shall sternly curse; when He who in tender patience says, 'Ye will not come unto Me,' shall thunder in righteous vengeance, 'Depart from Me, ye cursed; depart unto the second death—the fire prepared for the devil and his angels.' In vain wilt thou plead then as thou dost now, 'Lord, I am no adulterer; I am no extortioner; I used to eat at Thy table; I was baptised in Thy name; I was a true churchman; there are many worse than I am.' This will not admit thee into the Kingdom of Christ. His answer will be, 'I know you not; you never came to Me for life.'"

* * * * *

READING NOT PREACHING.

"Reading approved sermons is generally supposed to be preaching the Gospel. If this were really so, we need but look out some school-boy of tolerable capacity; and, after instructing him to read, with proper emphasis and gesture, the sermons of Tillotson, Sherlock, or Saurin, we shall have made him an excellent minister of the Word of God. But, if preaching the Gospel is to publish among sinners that repentance and salvation, which we have experienced in ourselves, it is evident that experience and sympathy are more necessary to the due performance of this work than all the accuracy and elocution that can possibly be acquired.

"When this sacred experience and this generous sympathy began to lose their prevalence in the Church, their place was gradually supplied by the trifling substitutes of study and affectation. Carnal prudence has now for many ages solicitously endeavoured to adapt itself to the taste of the wise and the learned. But, while 'the offence of the cross' is avoided, neither the wise nor the ignorant are effectually converted.

"In consequence of the same error, the ornaments of theatrical eloquence have been sought after, with a shameful solicitude. And what has been the fruit of so much useless toil? Preachers, after all, have played their part with much less applause than comedians; and their curious auditories are still running from the pulpit to the stage, for the purpose of hearing fables repeated with a degree of sensibility, which the messengers of truth can neither feel, nor feign."

* * * * *

PRIDE IN APPAREL.

"I cannot pass in silence the detestable, though fashionable, sin, which has brought down the curse of Heaven, and poured desolation and ruin upon the most flourishing kingdoms—I mean pride in apparel. Even in this place, where poverty, hard labour, and drudgery would, one should think, prevent a sin which Christianity cannot tolerate even in kings' houses, there are not wanting foolish virgins, who draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and betray the levity of their hearts by that of their dress. Yea, some women, who should be mothers in Israel, and adorn themselves with good works as holy and godly matrons, openly affect the opposite character. You may see them offer themselves first to the idol of vanity, and then sacrifice their children upon the same altar. As some sons of Belial teach their little ones, to curse, before they can well speak, so these daughters of Jezebel drag their unhappy offspring, before they can walk, to the haunts of vanity and pride. They complain of evening lectures, but run to midnight dancings. Oh, that such persons would let the prophet's words sink into their frothy minds, and fasten upon their careless hearts: 'Because the daughters of Sion are haughty, and walk with stretched-forth necks and wanton eyes, the Lord will smite with a sore the crown of their head, and discover their shame: instead of well-set hair, there shall be baldness, and burning instead of beauty.'"

* * * * *

WHAT IS SAVING FAITH?

"What is saving faith? I dare not say that it is 'believing heartily' my sins are forgiven me for Christ's sake; for, if I live in sin, that belief is a destructive conceit, and not saving faith. Neither dare I say, that 'saving faith is only a sure trust and confidence that Christ loved me, and gave Himself for me;' for, if I did, I should almost damn all mankind for four thousand years. Such definitiohs of saving faith are, I fear, too narrow to be just, and too unguarded to keep out Solifidianism. To avoid such mistakes; to contradict no Scriptures; to put no black mark of damnation upon any man, that in any nation fears God and works righteousness; to leave no room for Solifidianism, and to present the reader with a definition of faith adequate to the everlasting Gospel, I would choose to say, that justifying or saving faith is believing the saving truth with the heart unto internal, and (as we have opportunity) unto external righteousness, according to our light and dispensation. To St. Paul's words (Rom. x. 10), I add the epithets internal and external, in order to exclude, according to I John iii. 7, 8, the filthy imputation, under which fallen believers may, if we credit the Antinomians, commit internal and external adultery, mental and bodily murder, without the least reasonable fear of endangering their faith, their interest in God's favour, and their inadmissible title to a throne of glory."

* * * * *

THE EYE OF FAITH.

"Believing is the gift of the God of Grace, as breathing, moving, and eating are the gifts of the God of Nature. He gives me lungs and air, that I may breathe; He gives me life and muscles, that I may move; He bestows upon me food and a mouth, that I may eat; but He neither breathes, moves, nor eats for me. Nay, when I think proper, I can accelerate my breathing, motion, and eating: and, if I please, I may fast, lie down, or hang myself, and, by that means, put an end to my eating, moving, and breathing. Faith is the gift of God to believers, as sight is to you. The parent of good freely gives you the light of the sun, and organs proper to receive it. Everything around you bids you use your eyes and see; nevertheless, you may not only drop your curtains, but close your eyes also. This is exactly the case with regard to faith. Free grace removes, in part, the total blindness which Adam's fall brought upon us; free grace gently sends us some beams of truth, which is the light of the sun of righteousness; it disposes the eye of our understanding to see those beams; it excites us, in various ways, to welcome them; it blesses us with many, perhaps with all the means of faith, such as opportunities to hear, read, enquire, and power to consider, assent, consent, resolve, and re-resolve to believe the truth. But, after all, believing is as much our own act as seeing. We may in general do, suspend, or omit the act of faith. Nay, we may do by the eye of our faith, what some report Democritus did by his bodily eyes. Being tired of seeing the follies of mankind, to rid himself of that disagreeable sight, he put his eyes out. We may be so averse from the light, which enlightens every man that comes into the world; we may so dread it because our works are evil, as to exemplify, like the Pharisees, such awful declarations as these: Their eyes have they closed, lest they should see: wherefore God gave them up to a reprobate mind, and, they were blinded."