customary it is, the more resolutely should you break off from every degree of that evil custom. (7.) Use no snuff, unless prescribed by a Physician. I suppose no other nation in Europe is in such vile bondage to this silly, nasty, dirty custom as the Irish are. But let Christians be in this bondage no longer. Assert your liberty, and that all at once: Nothing will be done by degrees. But just now you may break loose, through Christ strengthening you. (8.) Touch no dram. It is liquid fire. It is a sure, though slow, poison. It saps the very springs of life. In Ireland, above all countries in the world, I would sacredly abstain from this, because the evil is so general; and to this, and snuff, and smoky cabins, I impute the blindness which is so exceeding common throughout the nation. I might have inserted under the second article, what I particularly desire wherever you have preaching, viz., that there may be a little-house. Let this be got without delay. Wherever it is not, let none expect to see me. I am Your affectionate brother. CXCV.-To DEAR SIR, 1770. I BLESS God that you are not disgusted at the great plainness with which I wrote. Indeed I know not but it might be termed roughness, which was owing partly to the pressure of mind I then felt, and partly to my being straitened for time; otherwise I might have found softer expressions. I am thankful likewise for your openness, which obliges me to be open and unreserved, and to say all I mean, and that in the most simple manner, on each of the articles that lie before us. I must do this, even with regard to my fellow-labourers, lest I should seem to mean more than I do. But I am sensible this is a tender point, and one so extremely difficult to treat upon, that I should not venture to say one word, did I not know to whom I speak. What I mean is this: From many little circumstances which have occurred, I have been afraid (just so far it went) that those Clergymen with whom you are most acquainted, were jealous of your being acquainted with me. I was the more afraid, when I heard the sudden exclamation of one whom you well know: "Good God! Mr. Wesley is always speaking well of these Gentlemen, and they can never speak well of him." But I am entirely satisfied by that full declaration which you make: "I do not know of any impression that has been made upon me to your disadvantage." I had once the opportunity of speaking a few minutes to you on the head of Christian perfection; and I believe you had not much objection to anything which was then spoken. When I spoke nearly to the same effect to one of the late Bishops of London, Bishop Gibson, he said earnestly, "Why, Mr. Wesley, if this is what you mean by perfection, who can be against it?” I believe, verily, there would need no more than a single hour, spent in free and open conversation, to convince you that none can rationally or scripturally say anything against the perfection I have preached for thirty years. The union which I desire among the persons I mentioned is an entire union of heart, constraining them to labour together as one man, in spreading vital religion through the nation. But this I do not hope for, though I know a few who would cordially rejoice therein. The union which I proposed is of a lower kind; I proposed that they should love as brethren, and behave as such. And I particularized what I think is implied in this; I imagined, in so plain a manner, as was hardly possible, without great skill, to be either misunderstood or misrepresented. I really do not conceive what ambiguity there can be in any part of this proposal; or what objection can lie against our going thus far, whether we go farther or no. With regard to you, I have frequently observed that there are two very different ranks of Christians, both of whom may be in the favour of God,—a higher and a lower rank. The latter avoid all known sin, do much good, use all the means of grace, but have little of the life of God in their souls, and are much conformed to the world. The former make the Bible their whole rule, and their sole aim is the will and image of God. This they steadily and uniformly pursue, through honour and dishonour, denying themselves, and taking up their cross daily; considering one point only, "How may I attain most of the mind that was in Christ, and how may I please him most?" Now I verily believe, never was a person of rank more prepared for this state than you were the first time I had the pleasure of seeing you. Nay, I doubt not but you pant after it now; your soul is athirst to be all devoted to God. But who will press you forward to this? Rather, who will not draw you back? It is in this respect that I think one that uses plain dealing is needful for you in the highest degree; so needful, that without this help you will inevitably stop short. I do not mean, stop short of heaven; but of that degree of holiness, and, consequently, of happiness both in time and eternity, which is now offered to your acceptance. It is herein that I am jealous over you. I am afraid of your sinking beneath your calling, degenerating into a common Christian, who shall indeed be saved, but saved as by fire. I long to see both you and your Lady a little more than common Christians; Christians of the first rank in the kingdom of God, full of all goodness and truth. I want you to be living witnesses of all gospel holiness! And what shall hinder, if you seek it by faith? Are not all things ready? The Lord God give you to experience that all things are possible to them that believe! O God, let all their life declare, How far above these earthly things; A heaven-born race of Priests and Kings! I am, honoured Sir, Your friend and servant. CXCVI.-To Mr. John Trembath. Tiverton, September 21, 1755. THE plain reason why I did not design to speak with you at Launceston was, because I had no hope of doing you good. I observed long ago, that you are not patient of reproof; and I fear you are less so now than ever. But since you desire it, I will tell you once more what I think, fear, or hear concerning you. I think you tasted of the powers of the world to come thirteen or fourteen years ago, and was then simple of heart, and willing to spend and be spent for Christ. But not long after, not being sufficiently on your guard, you suffered loss by being applauded. This revived and increased your natural vanity, which was the harder to be checked, because of your constitutional stubbornness ;-two deadly enemies which have lain in wait for you many years, and have given you many deep, if not mortal, wounds. I fear, it is near ten years since you was so weakened by these, that you no longer set a watch over your mouth, but began frequently to speak what was not strictly true, to excuse yourself, divert others, or gain applause. I am afraid this has prevailed over you more and more, as there was less and less of the life of God in the soul; so that I should almost wonder if you do not judge a diverting lie to be a very innocent thing. After your first marriage, being not used to nor fond of reading, and not spending many hours in private prayer, time grew heavy on your hands; especially as you could not bear the cross of being a regular Travelling Preacher: So you betook yourself to farming, and other country employments, and grew more and more dead to God. Especially when you began to keep company (whether by necessity or choice) with the men "whose talk is of bullocks;" who have little to do either with religion or reason; and have but just wit enough to smoke, drink, and flatter you. By these dull wretches you have been an unspeakable loser. Perhaps it was in company with some of these, that you first thought of taking a little sport, and catching a few fish, or killing a partridge or a hare. Miserable employment for a Preacher of the gospel! for a Methodist Preacher, above all others! Though I do not at all wonder, if, after practising it for some time, you should be so infatuated as even to defend it. I am afraid these same poor creatures afterwards taught you (if that report be true) even to countenance that wickedness for which Cornwall stinks in the nostrils of all who fear God, or love King George; I mean that of smuggling; though surely they could not persuade you to receive stolen goods! That is an iniquity to be punished by the Judges. Is there any truth in that other charge, (you must not ask who tells me so; if so, I have done,) that you imposed on Mrs. H-, in the writings; and fraudulently procured 100l. a year to be engaged for, instead of fourscore? I hope this was a mistake; as well as that (assertion, that you encouraged drunkenness, by suffering it in your company, if not in your own house. O remember from whence you are fallen! Repent, and do the first works! First recover the life of God in your own soul, and walk as Christ walked. Walk with God as you did twelve years ago. Then you might again be useful to his children. Supposing you was truly alive to God yourself, how profitably then (leaving the dead to bury their dead) might you spend three months in a year at Bristol, or London, three in Cornwall, and six in spreading the gospel wherever it might be needful. I have now told you all that is in my heart: I hope you will receive it, not only with patience, but profit. You must be much in the way, or much out of the way; a good soldier for God, or for the devil. O choose the better THE Conversation I had with you yesterday in the afternoon, gave me a good deal of satisfaction. As to some things which I had heard, (with regard to your wasting your substance, drinking intemperately, and wronging the poor people at Silberton,) I am persuaded they were mistakes; as I suppose it was, that you converse much with careless, unawakened people. And I trust you will be more and more cautious in all these respects, abstaining from the very appearance of evil. That you had not always attended the preaching when you might have done it, you allowed; but seemed determined to remove that objection; as well as the other, of using such exercises or diversions as give offence to your brethren. I believe you will likewise endeavour to avoid light and trifling conversation, and to talk and behave in all company with that seriousness and usefulness which become a Preacher of the gospel. Certainly some years ago you was alive to God. You experienced the life and power of religion. And does not God intend that the trials you meet with should bring you back to this? You cannot stand still; you know this is impossible. You must go forward or backward. Either you must recover that power, and be a Christian altogether, or in awhile you will have neither power nor form, inside nor outside. Extremely opposite both to one and the other, is that aptness |