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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 iie 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 any thing 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 any thing against the per fection 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 vou 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 happy these thy servants are;
How far above these earthly things;
How pure when wash'd in Jesus' blood;
How intimately one with God,

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 afterward 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 part!-now!— to-day! I am

Your affectionate brother.

CXCVII.-To the Same.

CORK, August 17, 1760.

MY DEAR BROTHER,-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 n or outside.

Extremely opposite both to one and the other, is that aptness to ridicule others, to make them contemptible, by exposing their real or supposed foibles. This I would earnestly advise you to avoid. It hurts yourself; it hurts the hearers; and it greatly hurts those who are so exposed, and tends to make them your irreconcilable enemies. It has also sometimes betrayed you into speaking what was not strictly true. O beware of this above all things! Never amplify, never exaggerate any thing. Be rigorous in adhering to truth. Be exemplary therein. Whatever has been in time past, let all men now know, that John Trembath abhors lying; that he never promises any thing which he does not perform; that his word is equal to his bond. I pray be exact in this. Be a pattern of truth, sincerity, and godly simplicity.

What has exceedingly hurt you in time past, nay, and I fear, to this day, is, want of reading. I scarce ever knew a preacher read so little. And perhaps, by neglecting it, you have lost the taste for it. Hence your talent in preaching does not increase. It is just the same as it was seven years ago. It is lively, but not deep; there is little variety; there is no compass of thought. Reading only can supply this, with meditation and daily prayer. You wrong yourself greatly by omitting this. You can never be a deep preacher without it, any more than a thorough Christian. O begin! Fix some part of every day for private exercises. You may acquire the taste which you have not: what is tedious at first, will afterward be pleasant. Whether you like it or no, read and pray daily. It is for your life; there is no other way; else you will be a trifler all your days, and a pretty, superficial preacher. Do justice to your own soul; give it time and means to grow. Do not starve yourself any longer. Take up your cross and be a Christian altogether. Then will all the children of God rejoice (not grieve) over you; and, in particular, Yours, &c.

CXCVIII.-To Mr. Jonathan Maskew.

LONDON, February 22, 1753.

MY DEAR BROTHER,-I cannot blame you at all for writing to me before you determined any thing. I believe your staying so long in the Newcastle circuit has been for good, both for you, and for others; and you are still wanted there. But you are wanted more elsewhere. I do not mean you should go to Mr. Grimshaw's circuit, (although, you might stay a fortnight there, not more,) but to Manchester. I promised you should set out to help brother Haughton, as soon as brother Hopper could go to Newcastle. So that you are sadly beyond your time: the blame of which is probably (as usual) laid upon me. Therefore the sooner you are at Manchester, the better. Peace be with your spirit.

I am

Your affectionate brother.

CXCIX.-To Mr. Knox.

SLIGO, May 30, 1765.

DEAR SIR,-Probably this will be the last trouble of the kind which you will receive from me. If you receive it in the same spirit wherein it is wrote, I shall be glad. If not, my reward is with the Most High. I did not choose it should be delivered till I was gone, lest you should think I wanted something from you. By the blessing of God, I want nothing, only that you should be happy in time and in eternity.

Still I cannot but remember the clear light you had with regard to the nature of real, Scriptural Christianity. You saw what heart religion meant, and the gate of it, justification. You had earnest desires to be a partaker of the whole Gospel blessing: and you discovered the sincerity of those desires, by the steps you took in your family. So that in every thing you was hastening to be, not almost, but altogether, a Christian.

Where is that light now? Do you now see that true religion is not a negative or an external thing; but the life of God in the soul of man; the image of God stamped upon the heart? Do you now see, that in order to this, we are justified freely, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus? Where are the desires after this which you once felt? the hungering and thirsting after righteousness? And where are the outward marks of a soul groaning after God, and refusing to be comforted with any thing less than his love?

Will you say, "But if I had gone on in that way, I should have lost my friends and my reputation?" This is partly true. You would have lost most of those friends who neither love nor fear God. Happy loss! These are the men who do you more hurt than all the world besides. These are the men whom, if ever you would be a real Christian, you must avoid as you would avoid hell fire. "But then they will censure me." So they will. They will say you are a fool, a madman, and what not. But what are you the worse for this? Why, the Spirit of glory and of Christ shall rest upon you. "But it will hurt me in my business." Suppose it should, the favour of God would make large amends. very probably it would not. For the winds and the seas are in God's hands, as well as the hearts of men. "But it is inconsistent with my duty to the Church." Can a man of understanding talk so, and talk so in earnest? Is it not rather a copy of his countenance? Indeed, if you mean, "inconsistent with my pleasing this or that clergyman," I allow

But

But let them be pleased or displeased, please thou God. But are these clergymen the Church? Unless they are holy men, earnestly loving and serving God, they are not even members of the Church; they are no part of it. And unless they preach the doctrines of the Church, contained in her Articles and Liturgy, they are no true ministers of the Church, but are eating her bread and tearing out her bowels.

"But you will not leave the Church." You never will by my advice: I advise just the contrary: I advise you to lose no opportunity of attending the service of the Church, and receiving the Lord's Supper, and of showing your regard for all her appointments. I advise, steadily to adhere to her doctrine in every branch of it; particularly with regard to the two fundamental points,-justification by faith, and holiness. But

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