To His Mother
triflers, fare them well; a noble escape: If serious, those who are more serious are left, whom the others would rather have opposed than forwarded in the service they have done, and still do, us. If it be said, “But these may leave you too; for they are no firmer than the others were:” First, I doubt that fact; but, next, suppose they should, we hope then they would only teach us a nobler and harder lesson than they hare done hitherto: “It is better to trust in the Lord, than to put any confidence in man.” And as for reputation, though it be a glorious instrument of advancing our Master’s service, yet there is a better than that, — a clean heart, a single eye, a soul full of God! A fair exchange, if by the loss of reputation we can purchase the lowest degree of purity of heart! We beg my mother and you would not cease to work together with us, that, whatever we lose, we may gain this; and that, having tasted of this good gift, we may count all things else but dung and dross in comparison of it —————
V. — To his Mother
June 18, 1725.
YOU have so well satisfied me as to the tenets of Thomas a Kempis, that I have ventured to trouble you once more on a more dubious subject. I have heard one I take to be a person of good judgment say, that she would advise no one very young to read Dr. Taylor on Holy Living and Dying. She added, that he almost put her out of her senses when she was fifteen or sixteen years old; because he seemed to exclude all from being in a way of salvation who did not come up to his rules, some of which are altogether impracticable. A fear of being tedious will make me confine myself to one or two instances, in which I am doubtful; though several others might be produced of almost equal consequence. In reference to humility, the Bishop says, “We must be sure, in some sense or other, to think ourselves the worst in every company where we come.” And in treating of repentance he says, “Whether God has forgiven us or no, we know not; therefore be sorrowful for ever having sinned.” I take the more notice of this last sentence, because it seems to contradict his own words in the next
section, where he says, that by the Lord’s supper all the members are united to one another, and to Christ the Head. The Holy Ghost confers on us the graces necessary for, and our souls receive the seeds of; an immortal nature. Now surely these graces are not of so little force as that we cannot perceive whether we have them or not; if we dwell in Christ, and Christ in us, which he will not do unless we are regenerate, certainly we must be sensible of it. If we can never have any certainty of our being in a state of salvation, good reason it is, that every moment should be spent, not in joy, but in fear and trembling; and then undoubtedly, in this life, we are of all men most miserable. God deliver us from such a fearful expectation as this! Humility is undoubtedly necessary to salvation; and if all these things are essential to humility, who can be humble, who can be saved? VI. — To the Same.
January, 1727.
I AM shortly to take my Master’s Degree. As I shall from that time be less interrupted by business not of my own choosing, I have drawn up for myself a scheme of studies, from which I do not intend, for some years at least, to vary. I am perfectly come over to your opinion, that there are many truths it is not worth while to know. Curiosity, indeed, might be a sufficient plea for our laying out some time upon them, if we had half a dozen centuries of life to come; but methinks it is great ill-husbandry to spend a considerable part of the small pittance now allowed us, in what makes us neither a quick nor a sure return.
Two days ago I was reading a dispute between those celebrated masters of controversy, Bishop Atterbury and Bishop Hoadly; but must own, I was so injudicious as to break off in the middle. I could not conceive that the dignity of the end was at all proportioned to the difficulty of attaining it. And I thought the labor of twenty or thirty hours, if I was sure of succeeding, which I was not, would be but ill rewarded by that important piece of knowledge, whether Bishop Hoadly had misunderstood Bishop Atterbury or no.
About a year and a half ago I stole out of company at eight in the evening, with a young gentleman with whom I was intimate. As we took a turn in an aisle of St. Mary’s church, in expectation of a young lady’s funeral, with whom we were both acquainted, I asked him if he really thought himself my friend; and, if he did, why he would not do me: all the good he could. He began to protest; in which I cut him short, by desiring him to oblige me in an instance, which he could not deny to be in his own power; to let me have the pleasure of making him a whole Christian, to which I knew he was at least half persuaded already; that he could not do me a greater kindness, as both of us would be fully convinced when we came to follow that young woman.
He turned exceedingly serious, and kept something of that disposition ever since. Yesterday was a fortnight, he died of a consumption. I saw him three days before he died; and, On the Sunday following, did him the last good office I could here, by preaching his funeral sermon; which was his desired when living.
VII. — To the Same.
March 19, 1727.
ONE advantage, at least, my degree has given me: I am now at liberty, and shall be in a great measure for some time, to choose my own employment. And as I believe I know my own deficiencies best, and which of them are most necessary to be supplied, I hope my time will turn to somewhat better account than when it was not so much in my own disposal. The conversation of one or two persons, whom you may have heard me speak of, (I hope never without gratitude,) first took off my relish for most other pleasures; so far that I despised them in comparison of that. I have since proceeded a step further; to slight them absolutely. And I am so little at present in love with even company, — the most elegant entertainment next to books, — that, unless the persons have a religious turn of thought, I am much better pleased without them. I think it is the settled temper of my soul, that I should prefer at least for some time, such at retirement would seclude me from all the world, to the station I am now
in. Not that this is by any means unpleasant to me; but I imagine it would be more improving to be in a place where I might confirm or implant in my mind what habits I would without interruption, before the flexibility of youth be over.
A school in Yorkshire was proposed to me lately, on which I shall think more when it appears whether I may have it or not. A good salary is annexed to it. But what has made me wish for it most, is the frightful description, as they call it, which some gentlemen who know the place gave me of it yesterday. “It lies in a little vale, so pent up between two hills, that it is scarcely accessible on any side; so that you can expect little company from without, and within there is none at all.” I should therefore be entirely at liberty to converse with company of my own choosing, whom for that reason I would bring with me; and company equally agreeable, wherever I fixed, could not put me to less expense. The sun that walks his airy way
To cheer the world, and bring the day;
The moon that shines with borrow’d light
The stars that gild the gloomy night;
All of these, and all I see,
Should be sung, and sung by me:
These praise their Maker as they can,
But want and ask the tongue of man.
I am full of business; but have found a way to write without taking any time from that. It is but rising an hour sooner in the morning, and going into company an hour later in the evening; both which may be done without any inconvenience.
VIII. — To the Same.
June 11, 1731.
THE motion and sun together, in our last hundred and fifty miles’ walk, so thoroughly carried off all our superfluous humors; that we continue perfectly in health, though it is here a very sickly season. And Mr. Kirkham assures us on the word of a Priest and a Physician, that if we will but take the same medicine once or twice a year, we shall never need any other to keep us from the gout. When we were with him, we touched two or three times upon a nice subject, but, did not come to any full conclusion. The point debated was, what is the meaning of being righteous over much, or by the more common phrase of being too strict in religion? and what danger there was of any of us falling into that extreme? All the ways of being too righteous or too strict which we would think of, were these: Either the carrying some one particular virtue to so great a height, as to make it clash with some others; or, the laying too much stress on the instituted means of grace, to the neglect of the weightier matters of the law; or, the multiplying prudential means upon ourselves so far, and binding ourselves to the observance of them so strictly, as to obstruct the end we aimed at by them, either by hindering our advance in heavenly affections in general, or by retarding our progress in some particular virtue. Our opponents seemed to think my brother and I [were] in some danger of being too strict in this last sense; of laying burdens on ourselves too heavy to be born, and, consequently, too heavy to be of any use to us. It is easy to observe, that almost every one thinks that rule totally needless which he does not need himself; and as to the Christian spirit itself, almost every one calls that degree of it which he does not himself aim at, enthusiasm. If therefore we plead for either, (not as if we thought the former absolutely needful, neither as if we had attained the latter,) it is no great wonder that they who are not for us in practice should be against us. If you, who are a less, prejudiced judge, have perceived us faulty in this matter, too superstitious or enthusiastic, or whatever it is to be called; we earnestly desire to be speedily informed of our terror, that we may no longer spend our strength on that which profiteth not. Or whatever there may be on the other hand, in which you have observed us to be too remiss, that likewise we desire to know as soon as possible. This is a subject which we would understand with as much accuracy as possible; it being hard to say which is of the worse, consequence, — the being too strict, the really carrying things too far, the wearying ourselves and spending our strength in burdens that are unnecessary, — or the being frightened by those terrible words, from what, if not directly necessary, would at least be useful.
IX. — To the Same.
February 28, 1732.
ONE consideration is enough to make me assent to his and your judgment concerning the holy sacrament; which is, that we cannot allow Christ’s human nature to be present in it, without allowing either CON- or TRANS- substantiation. But that his divinity is so united to us then, as he never is but to worthy receivers, I firmly believe, though the manner of that union is utterly a mystery to me.
That none but worthy receivers should find this effect, is not strange to me, when I observe how small effect many means of improvement have upon an unprepared mind. Mr. Morgan and my brother were affected, as they ought, by the observations you made on that glorious subject; but though my understanding approved what was excellent, yet my heart did not feel it. Why was this, but because it was pre-engaged by those affections with which wisdom will not dwell? because the animal mind cannot relish those truths which are spiritually discerned? Yet I have those writings which the Good Spirit gave to that end! I have many off those which he hath since assisted his servants to give us; I have retirement to apply these to my own soul daily; I have means both of public and private prayer; and, above all, of partaking in that sacrament once a week. What shall I do to make all these blessings effectual, to gain from them that mind which was also in Christ Jesus?
To all who give signs of their not being strangers to it, I propose this question, — and why not to any rather than any? Shall I quite break of my pursuit of all learning, but what immediately tends to practice? I once desired to make a fair show in languages and philosophy: But it is past; there is a more excellent way, and if I cannot attain to any progress in the one, without throwing up all thoughts of the others why, fare it well! Yet a little while, and we shall all be equal in knowledge, if we are in virtue. You say you “have renounced the world.” And what have I been doing all this time? What have I done ever since I was born? Why I have been plunging myself into it more and more. It is enough: “Awake, thou that
sleepest.” Is there not “one Lord, one Spirit, one hope of our calling? “one way of attaining that hope? Then I am to renounce the world, as well as you. That is the very thing I want to do; to draw off my affections from this world, and fix them on a better. But how? What is the surest and the shortest way? Is it not to be humble? Surely, this is a large step in the way. But the question recurs, How am I to do this? To own the necessity of it is not to be humble. In many things you have interceded for me and prevailed. Who knows but in this too you may be successful? If you can spare me only that little part of Thursday evening, which you formerly bestowed upon me in another manner, I doubt not but it would be as useful now for correcting my heart, as it was then for forming my judgment.
When I observe how fast life flies away, and how slow improvement comes, I think one can never be too much afraid of dying before one has learned to live; I mean, even in the course of nature. For were I sure that “the silver cord” should not be violently “loosed;” that “the wheel” should not “be broken at the cistern,” till it was quite worn away by its own motion; yet what a time would this give for such a work? A moment to transact the business of eternity! What are forty years in comparison of this? So that were I sure of what never man yet was sure of, how little would it alter the case! How justly still might I cry out, — “Downward I hasten to my destined place;
There none obtain thy aid, none sing thy praise!
Soon shall I lie in death’s deep ocean drown’d;
Is mercy there, is sweet forgiveness found?
O save me yet, while on the brink I stand;
Rebuke these storms, and set me safe on land!
O make my longings and thy mercy sure!
Thou art the God of power.”
X. — To the Same.
August 17, 1733.
THE thing that gives offense here, is, the being singular with regard to time, expense, and company. This is evident beyond exception, from the case of Mr. Smith, one of our Fellows, who no sooner began to husband his time, to retrench unnecessary expenses, and to avoid his irreligious acquaintance, but he was set upon, by not only all those acquaintance, but many others too, as if he had entered into a conspiracy to cut all their throats; though to this day he has not advised any single person, unless in a word or two and by accident, to act as he did in any of those instances. It is true, indeed, that “the devil hates offensive war most;” and that whoever tries to rescue more than his own soul from his hands, will have more enemies; and meet with greater opposition, than if he was content with “having his own life for a prey.” That I try to do this, is likewise certain; but I cannot say whether I “rigorously impose any observances on others,” till I know what that phrase means. What I do, is this: When I am entrusted with a person who is first to understand and practice, and then to teach, the law of Christ, I endeavor, by an intermixture of reading and conversation, to show him what that law is; that is, to renounce all insubordinate love of the world, and to love and obey God with all his strength. When he appears seriously sensible of this, I propose to him the means God hath commanded him to use, in order to that end; and, a week, or a month, or a year after, as the state of his soul seems to require it, the several prudential means recommended by wise and good men. As to the times, order, measure, and manner, therein these are to be proposed, I depend upon the Holy Spirit to direct me, in and by my own experience and reflection, joined to the advises of my religious friends here and elsewhere. Only two rules it is my principle to observe in all cases: First to begin, continue, and end all my advises in the spirit of meekness; as knowing that “the wrath” or severity “of man worketh not the righteousness of God:” And, Secondly, to add to meekness, longsuffering; in pursuance of a rule which I fixed long since, — never to give up any one till I have tried him, at least, ten years. How long hath God had pity on thee?
If the wise and goodwill believe those falsehoods which the bad invent, because I endeavor to save myself and my friends from them; then I shall lose my reputation, even among them, for (though not perhaps good, yet) the best actions I ever did in my life. This is the very case. I try to act as my Lord commands; ill men say all manner of evil of me, and good men believe them. There is a way, and there is but one, of making my peace:
God forbid I should ever take it! I have as many pupils as I need, and as many friends; when more are better for me, I shall have more. If I have no more pupils after these are gone from me, I shall then be glad of a curacy near you: If I have, I shall take in as a signal that I am to remain here. Whether here or there, my desire is, to know and feel that I am nothing that I have nothing, and that I can do nothing. For whenever I am empty of myself, then know I of a surety, that neither friends nor foes, nor any creature, can hinder me from being “filled with all the fullness of God.” Let not my father’s or your prayers be ever slack in behalf of your affectionate son.
XI. — To The Same.
March 18, 1736.
I DOUBT not but you are already informed of the many blessings which God gave us in our passage; as my brother Wesley must, before now, have received a particular account of the circumstances of our voyage; which he would not fail to transmit to you by the first opportunity. We are likely to stay here some months. The place is pleasant beyond imagination; and, by all I can learn, exceeding healthful, — even in summer, for those who are not intemperate. It has pleased God that I have not had a moment’s illness of any kind since I set my foot upon the Continent; nor do I know any more than one of my seven hundred parishioners who is sick at this time. Many of them, indeed, are, I believe, very angry already: For a gentleman, no longer ago than last night, made a ball; but the public prayers happening to begin about the same time the church was full, and the ball-room so empty, that the entertainment could not go forward. I should be heartily glad, if any poor and religious men or women of Epworth, or Wroote, would come over to me And so would Mr. Oglethorpe too: He would give them land enough, and provisions gratis, till they could live on the produce of it. I was fully determined to have wrote to my dear Emmy 3 today; but time will not permit. O hope ye still in God; for ye shall yet give him thanks, who is the help of your countenance; and your God! Renounce the world; deny yourselves; bear