A Garrison of Faith!

In the afternoon I rode to Dover; but the gentleman I was to lodge with was gone a long journey. He went to bed well, but dead in the morning: such a vapor is life! At six I preached, but the house would by no means contain the congregation. Most of the officers of the garrison were there. I have not found so much life here for some years. 

The Journal of John Wesley

Passing moments, citing Authorities

Monday, November 23.--I went to Canterbury. Here I met with the Life of Mahomet, written, I suppose, by the Count de Boulanvilliers. Whoever the author is, he is a very pert, shallow, self-conceited coxcomb, remarkable for nothing but his immense assurance and thorough contempt of Christianity. And the book is a dull, ill-digested romance, supported by no authorities at all; whereas Dean Prideaux (a writer of ten times his sense) cites his authorities for everything he advances.

The Journal of John Wesley 

Gospel vs. Bells

Friday, September 25.--l was desired to preach at Freshford; but the people durst not come to the house because of the smallpox, of which Joseph Allen, "an Israelite indeed," had died the day before. So they placed a table near the churchyard. But I had no sooner begun to speak than the bells began to ring, by the procurement of a neighboring gentleman. However, it was labor lost; for my voice prevailed, and the people heard me distinctly. Nay, a person extremely deaf, who had not been able to hear a sermon for several years, told his neighbors, with great joy that he had heard and understood all, from the beginning to the end.

The Journal of John Wesley 

Formal religion and the eyewitness

Saturday, August 1.--Before I left Glasgow I heard so strange an account that I desired to hear it from the person himself. He was a sexton and yet for many years had little troubled himself about religion. I set down his words and leave every man to form his own judgment upon them: "Sixteen weeks ago, I was walking, an hour before sunset, behind the high kirk; and, looking on one side, I saw one close to me who looked in my face and asked me how I did. I answered, 'Pretty well.' He said, 'You have had many troubles; but how have you improved them?' He then told me all that ever I did; yea, and the thoughts that had been in my heart; adding, 'Be ready for my second coming'; and he was gone I knew not how. I trembled all over, and had no strength in me; but sank down to the ground. From that time I groaned continually under the load of sin, till at the Lord's supper it was all taken away."

The Journal of John Wesley 

Verbal Fencing, Part Four - Gentleness

"But you insist, 'Mr. Wesley affirms the Methodists (that is, all Methodists) to be perfectly holy and righteous.' Where do I affirm this? Not in the tract before us. In the front of this I affirm just the contrary; and that I affirm it anywhere else is more than I know. Be pleased, Sir, to point out the place: till this is done, all you add (bitterly enough) is mere brutum fulmen; and the Methodists (so called) may still declare (without any impeachment of their sincerity) that they do not come to the holy table 'trusting in their own righteousness, but in God's manifold and great mercies.' I am, Sir, 

"Yours, John Wesley."

The Journal of John Wesley

Verbal Fencing, Part Three: The appeal to reason

"Sir, have me excused. This is not 'according to Mr. Wesley.’ I have told all the world I am not perfect; and yet you allow me to be a Methodist. I tell you flatly, I have not attained the character I draw. Will you pin it upon me in spite of my teeth?

"'But Mr. Wesley says, the other Methodists have.' I say no such thing. What I say, after having given a scriptural account of a perfect Christian, is this: 'By these marks the Methodists desire to be distinguished from other men; by these we labor to distinguish ourselves.' And do not you yourself desire and labor after the very same thing?

The Journal of John Wesley 

Verbal Fencing Part Two: The rustling of paper bags

"The occasion of his late attack is this: Five or six and thirty years ago, I much admired the character of a perfect Christian drawn by Clemens Alexandrinus. Five or six and twenty years ago, a thought came into my mind of drawing such a character myself, only in a more scriptural manner and mostly in the very words of Scripture: this I entitled, 'The Character of a Methodist,' believing that curiosity would incite more persons to read it, and also that some prejudice might thereby be removed from candid men. But that none might imagine I intended a panegyric either on myself or my friends, I guarded against this in the very title page, saying both in the name of myself and them, 'Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect.' To the same effect I speak in the conclusion, 'These are the same principles and practices of our sect; these are the marks of a true Methodist'; that is, a true Christian, as I immediately after explain myself: 'by these alone do those who are in derision so called desire to be distinguished from other men.' (P. ii.) 'By these marks do we labor to distinguish ourselves from those whose minds or lives are not according to the gospel of Christ.' (P. 12.)

"Upon this Rusticulus, or Dr. Dodd, says, 'A Methodist, according to Mr. Wesley, is one who is perfect, and sinneth not in thought, word, or deed.' 

The Journal of John Wesley

Verbal Fencing, Part One

1767. Thursday, March 5.--l at length obliged Dr. D. by entering into the lists with him. The letter I wrote (though not published till two or three weeks after) was as follows:

"To the Editor of Lloyd's Evening Post.

"Sir,--Many times the publisher of the Christian Magazine has attacked me without fear or wit; and hereby he has convinced his impartial readers of one thing at least--that (as the vulgar say) his fingers itch to be at me; that he has a passionate desire to measure swords with me. But I have other work upon my hands: I can employ the short remainder of my life to better purpose. 

The Journal of John Wesley

So there's that then - Horace mistaken

But, after all, what a flat contradiction is this to universal experience! See that little house, under the wood, by the riverside! There is rural life in perfection. How happy then is the farmer that lives there? Let us take a detail of his happiness. He rises with, or before, the sun, calls his servants, looks to his swine and cows, then to his stables and barns. He sees to the ploughing and sowing his ground, in winter or in spring. In summer and autumn he hurries and sweats among his mowers and reapers. And where is his happiness in the meantime? Which of these employments do we envy? Or do we envy the delicate repast that succeeds, which the poet so languishes for?

O quindo faba, Pythagorm cognate, simulque Uncta satis pingui ponentur oluscula lardo!

"Oh, the happiness of eating beans well greased with fat bacon! Nay, and cabbage, tool"- -Was Horace in his senses when he talked thus, or the servile herd of his imitators? Our eyes and ears may convince us there is not a less happy body of men in all England than the country farmers. In general their life is supremely dull; and it is usually unhappy too. For of all people in the kingdom they are most discontented, seldom satisfied either with God or man. 

The Journal of John Wesley

Even in Latin this is not right

Monday, November 3.--I rode to Brentford from London, where all was quiet, both in the congregation and the society. Tuesday, 4. I preached af Brentford, Battersea, Deptford and Welling, and examined the several societies. Wednesday, 5. I rode by Shoreham to Sevenoaks. In the little journeys which I have lately taken, have thought much on the huge encomiums which have been for many ages bestowed on a country life. How have all the learned world cried out,

O fortunate nimium, sua si bona norint, Agricolae

The Journal of John Wesley

Don't heal me

Wednesday, 17.--I twice stopped a violent bleeding from a cut by applying a brier leaf. The room at Launceston would not nearly contain the congregation in the evening, to whom I strongly applied the case of the impotent man at the pool of Bethesda: Many were much affected: but, oh, how few are willing to be made whole.

The Journal of John Wesley 

Port Isaac

Hence I rode to Port Isaac, now one of the liveliest places in Cornwall. The weather being uncertain, I preached near the house. But there was no rain while I preached, except the gracious rain which God sent upon His inheritance.

Here Mr. Buckingham met me, who, for fear of offending the bishop, broke off all commerce with the Methodists. He had no sooner done this than the bishop rewarded him by turning him out of his curacy; had he continued to walk in Christian simplicity, he would probably have had it to this day. 

The Journal of John Wesley

Goldilocks Preaching Location

Monday, 15.--l preached at Cubert and next morning rode on to St. CoIumb. Being desired to break the ice here, I began preaching, without delay, in a gentleman's yard adjoining to the main street. I chose this, as neither too public nor too private. I fear the greater part of the audience understood full little of what they heard. However, they behaved with seriousness and good manners.

The Journal of John Wesley 

20,000

Sunday, 14.--l preached in St. Agnes at eight. The congregation in Redruth, at one, was the largest I ever had seen there; but small, compared to that which assembled at five, in the natural amphitheater at Gwennap; far the finest I know in the kingdom. It is a round, green hollow, gently shelving down, about fifty feet deep; but I suppose it is two hundred across one way, and near three hundred the other. I believe there were fully twenty thousand people; and, the evening being calm, all could hear.

The Journal of John Wesley 

Breaching the Tinpit

Friday, 12.--I rode to St. Hilary and in the evening preached near the new house on "Awake, thou that steepest" [Eph. 5:14]. In returning to my lodging, it being dark, my horse was just stepping into a tinpit when an honest man caught him by the bridle and turned his head the other way. 

The Journal of John Wesley

Ah, Mousehole

Sunday, 7.--At eight I preached in Mousehole, a large village southwest from Newlyn. Thence I went to Buryan church, and, as soon as the service was ended, preached near the churchyard to a numerous congregation. Just after I began, I saw a gentleman before me, shaking his whip and vehemently striving to say something. But he was abundantly too warm to say anything intelligibly. So, after walking a while to and fro, he wisely took horse and rode away.

The Journal of John Wesley 

A Negative Review

Tuesday, 7.--Being invited to preach in the Tabernacle at Plymouth, I began about two in the afternoon. In the evening I was offered the use of Mr. Whitefield's room at the dock; but, large as it is, it would not contain the congregation. At the close of the sermon, a large stone was thrown in at one of the windows, which came just behind me and fell at my feet, the best place that could have been found. So no one was hurt or frightened, not many knowing anything of the matter. 

The Journal of John Wesley

Building the Galleries

Monday, September 1.--I came to Plymouth Dock, where, after heavy storms, there is now a calm. The house, notwithstanding the new galleries, was extremely crowded in the evening. I strongly exhorted the backsliders to return to God; and I believe many received "the word of exhortation."

The Journal of John Wesley

Decency, stupidness, and rudeness, are ancient moderns

I preached near the main street, without the least disturbance, to a large and attentive congregation. Thence we rode on to Axminster, but were thoroughly wet before we came thither. The rain obliged me to preach within at six; but at seven on Sunday morning, I cried in the market place, "The kingdom of God is at hand; repent ye, and believe the gospel" [Mark 1:15].

In the evening I preached in the street at Ashburton. Many behaved with decency; but the rest, with such stupid rudeness as I have not seen, for a long time, in any part of England. 

The Journal of John Wesley

Reluctantly just

Saturday, August 30.--We rode to Stallbridge, long the seat of war, by a senseless, insolent mob encouraged by their betters, so called to outrage their quiet neighbors. For what? Why, they were mad: they were Methodists. So, to bring them to their senses, they would beat their brains out. They broke their windows, leaving not one whole pane with glass, spoiled their goods, and assaulted their persons with dirt, rotten eggs, and stones whenever they appeared in the street. But no magistrate, though they applied to several, would show them either mercy or justice. At length they wrote to me. I ordered a lawyer to write to the rioters. He did so, but they set him at naught. We then moved the Court of King's bench. By various artifices, they got the trial put off, from one assizes to another, for eighteen months. But it fell so much the heavier on themselves, when they were found guilty; and, from that time, finding there is law for Methodists, they have suffered them to be at peace.

The Journal of John Wesley 

Concern for the beard

Tuesday, 29.--In the evening I preached near the preaching-house at Paddiham and strongly insisted on communion with God as the only religion that would avail us. At the close of the sermon came Mr. M. His long, white beard showed that his present disorder was of some continuance. In all other respects, he was quite sensible; but he told me with much concern, "You can have no place in heaven without a beard! Therefore, I beg, let yours grow immediately."

The Journal of John Wesley 

Wind and damp in the face

Sunday, 27.--As Baildon church would not nearly contain the congregation, after the prayers were ended, I came out into the churchyard, both morning and afternoon. The wind was extremely high and blew in my face all the time; yet, I believe, all the people could hear. At Bradford there was so huge a multitude and the rain so damped my voice that many in the skirts of the congregation could not hear distinctly. They have just built a preaching-house, fifty-four feet square, the largest octagon we have in England; and it is the first of the kind where the roof is built with common sense, rising only a third of its breadth; yet it is as firm as any in England, nor does it at all hurt the walls. Why then does any roof rise higher? Only through want of skill, or want of honesty, in the builder. 

The Journal of John Wesley

Yes, but it still is very nice

Saturday, July 19.--I took a view of Beverley minster, such a parish church as has scarcely its fellow in England. It is a most beautiful as well as stately building, both within and without, and is kept more nicely clean than any cathedral which I have seen in the kingdom; but where will it be when the earth is burned up and the elements melt with fervent heat? About one I preached at Pocklington (though my strength was much exhausted), and in the evening at York.

The Journal of John Wesley 

Soggy bog and dry land

Tuesday, June 24.--Before eight we reached Dumfries and after a short bait pushed on in hopes of reaching Solway Frith before the sea came in. Designing to call at an inn by the frith side, we inquired the way and were directed to leave the main road and go straight to the house which we saw before us. In ten minutes Duncan Wright was embogged; however, the horse plunged on and got through. I was inclined to turn back; but Duncan telling me I needed only go a little to the left, I did so and sank at once to my horse's shoulders. He sprang up twice, and twice sank again, each time deeper than before. At the third plunge he threw me on one side, and we both made shift to scramble out. I was covered with fine, soft mud from my feet to the crown of my head; yet, blessed be God, not hurt at all. But we could not cross till between seven and eight o'clock. An honest man crossed with us, who went two miles out of his way to guide us over the sands to Skilburness, where we found a little, clean house, and passed a comfortable night. 

The Journal of John Wesley

It pays to read the deed

Thursday, 10.--I looked over the wonderful deed which was lately made here on which I observed 1) it takes up three large skins of parchment and so could not cost less than six guineas; whereas our own deed, transcribed by a friend, would not have cost six shillings; 2) it is verbose beyond all sense and reason, and withal so ambiguously worded that one passage only might find matter for a suit of ten or twelve years in Chancery; 3) it everywhere calls the house a meeting-house, a name which I particularly object to; 4) it leaves no power either to the assistant or me so much as to place or displace a steward; 5) neither I, nor all the Conference, have power to send the same preacher two years together. To crown all, 6) if a preacher is not appointed at the Conference, the trustees and the congregation are to choose one, by most votesl And can anyone wonder I dislike this deed, which tears the Methodist discipline up by the roots?

Is it not strange that any who have the least regard either for me or our discipline should scruple to alter this uncouth deed?

The Journal of John Wesley 

Sensibility

Monday, April 7.--l preached at Warrington, about noon, to a large congregation, rich and poor, learned and unlearned. I never spoke more plainly; nor have I ever seen a congregation listen with more attention. Thence I rode to Liverpool and thoroughly regulated the society, which had great need of it. Wednesday, 9. I took much pains with a sensible woman who had taken several imprudent steps. But it was labor lost--neither argument nor persuasion made the least impression. Oh, what power less than almighty can convince a thorough-paced enthusiast! 

The Journal of John Wesley

Generous

Wednesday, February 5 (London).--One called upon me who had been cheated out of a large fortune and was now perishing for want of bread. I had a desire to clothe him and send him back to his own country, but was short of money. However, I appointed him to call again in an hour. He did so; but before he came, one from whom I expected nothing less, put twenty guineas into my hand; so I ordered him to be clothed from head to foot and sent him straight away to Dublin.

The Journal of John Wesley 

Find help where you can

Sunday, 22.--I was ill able to go through the service at West Street; but God provided for this also. Mr. Greaves, being just ordained, came straight to the chapel, and gave me the assistance I wanted.

The Journal of John Wesley 

Hartshorn and Treacle Cure

Wednesday, 18.--Riding through the Borough, all my mare’s feet flew up, and she fell with my leg under her. A gentleman, stepping out, lifted me up and helped me into his shop. I was exceedingly sick but was presently relieved by a little hartshorn and water. After resting a few minutes, I took a coach; but when I was cold, found myself much worse, being bruised on my right arm, my breast, my knee, leg, and ankle, which swelled exceedingly. However, I went on to Shoreham, where by applying treacle twice a day, all the soreness was removed, and I recovered some strength so as to be able to walk a little on plain ground. The Word of God does at length bear fruit here also, and Mr. P. is comforted over all his trouble. Saturday, 21. Being not yet able to ride, I returned in a chariot to London. 

The Journal of John Wesley

The Price of Peace

Thursday, 5.--l rode back to Feversham. Here I was quickly informed that the mob and the magistrates had agreed together to drive Methodism, so called, out of the town. After preaching, I told them what we had been constrained to do by the magistrate at Rolvenden; who perhaps would have been richer, by some hundred pounds, had he never meddled with the Methodists; I concluded, "Since we have both God and the law on our side, if we can have peace by fair means, we had much rather; we should be exceedingly glad; but if not, we will have peace."

The Journal of John Wesley 

Ploughing the sand

Tuesday, December 3.--l rode to Dover and found a little company more united together than they have been for many years. While several of them continued to rob the King, we seemed to be ploughing upon the sand; but since they have cut off the right hand, the Word of God sinks deep into their hearts.

The Journal of John Wesley