7. - To the Rev. Charles Wesley. 8. - To the Hon. Mrs. - - - - - - - .
7. - TO THE REV. CHARLES WESLEY.
LONDON, Nov. 15, 1759.
MY DEAR SIR, - Your letter was not put into my hand till eight days after my arrival in London. I carried the enclosed agreeably to its address, and passed three hours with a modern prodigy - an humble and pious countess. I went with trembling, and in obedience to your orders; but I soon perceived a little of what the disciples felt, when Christ said to them, “It is I, be not afraid.” She proposed to me something of what you hinted to me in your garden, namely, to celebrate the communion sometimes at her house in a morning, and to preach when occasion offered; in such a manner, however, as not to restrain my liberty, nor prevent my assisting you, or preaching to the French refugees; and that only till Providence should clearly point out the path in which I should go.
You ask, “Whether I can, with confidence, give you up to the mercy of God?” Yes, I can; and I feel that for you, which I do not for myself; I am so assured of your salvation, that I ask no other place in heaven, than that I may have at your feet. I doubt even if paradise would be a paradise to me, unless it were shared with you; and the single idea which your question excited, that we might one day be separated, pierced my heart, and bathed my eyes with tears. They were sweet tears, which seemed to water and confirm my hope, or rather the certainty I have that He who hath begun a good work in us, will also finish it, and unite me to you in Christ, by the bonds of an everlasting love! And not only to you, but to your children and your wife, whom I salute in Christ. Adieu. I am, &c,
J. FLETCHER.
8. - TO THE HON. MRS. - - - - - - - .
MY DEAR FRIEND, - To a believer, Jesus is alone the desirable, the everlasting distinction and honour of men. All other advantages, though now so proudly extolled, so vehemently coveted, are, like the down on the thistle, blown away in a moment, and never secure to the possessor. Riches are incapable of satisfying, friends are changeable and precarious, the dear relations, who are the delight of our hearts, are taken away at a stroke; pain and sickness follow ease and health in quick succession; but, amidst all the possible changes of life, Christ is a rock. To see him by faith, to lay hold, to rely upon him, this is the refuge from the storm, the shadow from the heat. May it be given to you abundantly! And in order to obtain it, nothing more or less is required of you, than a full and frequent confession of your own abominable nature and heart, then kneeling as a true beggar at the door of mercy, declaring you came there expecting notice and relief only because Christ our Saviour came to redeem incarnate devils, and, for the glory of his grace, to convert them into saints and servants of the living God, into the children of God, and heirs of glory.
I think you take a sure method to perplex yourself, if you want to see your own faith, or look for one moment at yourself for the proof of your faith; others must see it in your works, but you must feel it in your heart. The glory of Jesus is now, by faith, realized to the mind, in some such manner as an infinitely grand and beautiful object which appears in the firmament of heaven: it arrests and fixes the attention of the spectators on itself; it captivates them, and by the pleasure it imparts, they are led on to view it: so, when Jesus is our peace, strength, righteousness, food, salvation, and our all, we are penetrated with a consciousness of it. We should never rest short of this feeling, nor ever think we have it strong enough. This is to keep the faith; and our chief conflict and most constant labour must be against our own hearts, the things of the world, and the suggestions of our great enemy, which are all intent to divert us from this one object, which Mary placed herself before; or to make us doubt whether in the life and death of Emmanuel there were such unsearchable riches and efficacy, such a complete salvation for all his people, or whether we are in that number. For my own part, I am often tempted to suspect whether I am not speaking great swelling words of Christ, and yet am not more than “sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal:” and I find the only successful way of answering this doubt, is immediately to address to Jesus a prayer to this effect: “Whosoever cometh to thee thou wilt in no wise cast out:” Lord, have not I come to thee? Am not I, as a brand plucked out of the fire, depending upon thee for life? “See if there be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
My eye looks to the blessed Jesus, my heart longs to be more in his service, my love - O that it were greater toward him! I mourn deeply for my corruptions, which are many and great. When I look at him, and contemplate his great salvation, I admire, I adore, and in some measure I love: but when I look at myself, my heart rises at the sight: black and devilish, selfish and proud, carnal and covetous, and most abominably unclean, I want all things which are good. But I have a blessed, blessed