religion is the present, not less than the everlasting, happiness of man. He inexpressibly felt, and he was anxious to make every one else feel, that it was this That gives fresh beauty to the sun, And lovely life with pleasure steal away." But, it is not enough to speak thus of John Wesley. To prove the justness of what I ascribe to him, I must make him speak for himself. I dare say you have looked into his writings; but I should not wonder if you met something which soon led you to lay down the book. In circumstantial matters, I conceive him beset with errors, though not uniformly with the same errors through life; but, in essential matters, and especially respecting "The sacred and homefelt delight, The sober certainty of waking bliss," which true Christian piety implies, he, from time to time, sent forth the brightest coruscations of practical truth. Thus, for example, in his sermon on "The important Question," after saying many excellent things in his own peculiar manner, and some strange ones, and after observing, that, if even a life of religion were a life of pain, and a life of sin a life of pleasure, and that this pleasure were sure to last for a number of years, still the preference of the latter to the former would be the most egregious folly,he winds up his subject in the following words : "But it has been proved, that the case is quite otherwise; that religion is happiness, that wickedness is misery, and that no man is assured of living threescore days; and if so, is there any fool, any madman under heaven, who can be compared to him that casts away his own soul, though it were to gain the whole world? For, what is the real state of the case? what is the choice which God proposes to his creatures ?-It is not, will you be happy for threescore years, and then miserable for ever; or will you be miserable threescore years, and then happy for ever? It is not, will you have first a temporary heaven, and then hell eternal? or will you have first a temporary hell, and then heaven eternal? But it is simply this, will you be miserable threescore years, and miserable ever after? or will you be happy threescore years, and happy ever after? Will you have a foretaste of heaven now, and then heaven for ever? or will you have a foretaste of hell now, and then hell for ever? Will you have two hells, or two heavens ? I must give another specimen of John Wesley's luminous views; but I should not give it fairly, if I did not transcribe the passage at large. It occurs in a sermon entitled "The more excellent Way." He is speaking on the subject of amusements; some he rejects as wholly unworthy, not merely of religious persons, but of rational beings. Of certain others, he expresses himself more gently, but still with disapprobation. For instance, "Of playing at cards, I," he says, "could not do it with a clear conscience; but I pass no sentence on those who are otherwise minded: I leave them to their own Master; to him let them stand or fall." "But," he proceeds, "are there not more excellent ways of diverting themselves for those that love or fear God? Would men of fortune divert themselves in the open air? They may do it by cultivating and improving their lands, by planting their grounds, by laying out, carrying on, and perfecting their gardens and orchards. At other times, they may visit and converse with the most serious and sensible of their neighbours; or they may visit the sick, the poor, the widows, and fatherless, in their affliction. Do they desire to divert themselves in the house? They may read useful history, pious and elegant poetry, or the several branches of natural philosophy: if you have time, you may divert yourself by music, and, perhaps, by philosophical experiments." Thus far, there is nothing said but what might be expected from any mind at once pious and enlightened. But, I hardly think any preacher of his time, except John Wesley himself, would have thought of adding to a catalogue even of such recreations, as that which was to crown and perfect all the rest, what he immediately subjoins, as if from the fulness of his own vivid and happy feeling; But, above all, when you have once learned the use of prayer, you will find, that as 66 'That which yields, or fills All space, th' ambient air, wide interfus'd, Embraces round this florid earth,' so will this; till, through every space of life, it be interfused with all your employments, and wherever you are, and whatever you do, embrace you on every side. Then you will be able to say boldly, With me no melancholy void, My weariness of life is gone, And only Jesus know.'" The ending of this passage, in his own peculiar manner, with a stanza from one of his brother's hymns (even in which, however, there is something very noble), cannot, I think, hinder us from admiring its peculiar spirit and beauty. His poetical quotation (which I do not remember to have met with elsewhere) seems to me exquisitely to illustrate what he wishes to describe, and even every epithet has a happy effect for his purpose. Perhaps I am partial; but this little effusion coming in as it does (the very idea of other rational pleasures leading his heart at once, as if without reflection, and above resistance, to the one ineffable pleasure), strikes me as the most riant picture of Christian devotion I ever met with, except in the Sacred Volume. Doddridge's well-known epigram is very fine, and does true honour to its author. But the idea of prayer as an omnipresent pleasure, yet never impeding, but gently leaving room for, and indescribably animating, every other pure and natural pleasure, is here, to my mind, so well conveyed, that, for this one passage, I should deem John Wesley worthy of everlasting remembrance. But I must give you one more specimen of this interesting man, to which I shall not wonder if you attach still greater moment. To speak, however, sublimely, is an infinitely less thing than to contemplate death with an established mind. But, where this latter is realised, what had been well spoken comes with complete force; I will, therefore, transcribe one of John Wesley's last letters to myself, which, while it is strongly marked with some of his amiable singularities, impressively manifests the feelings with which he regarded his approaching change. It was written a short time after his last arrival in Ireland: -- (6 MY DEAR ALLECK, "Dublin, April 11th, 1789. "You see in the public papers that I shall be with you, if God permits, on the thirtieth of the next month. If I should be called to go a longer journey before that time, I hope you would be able to say, ' Good is the will of the Lord.' Every time we meet, it is less and less probable that we should meet again in this world. But it is enough, if we are counted worthy of that world, and the resurrection of the dead. Oh! let my dear Sally Knox think of this, for we know not how soon she may be called. Certainly I love her dearly; and shall be glad to meet her at our Lord's right hand. Peace be with all your spirits! "I am, my dear ALLECK, "Yours most affectionately, "JOHN WESLEY." I have omitted no part of this letter, because I think the expression of personal attachment to my sister, with which it concludes, immediately subjoined to, and so emphatically connected with, the solemn matter which had gone before, is as characteristical of the writer as any thing which could be produced. My poor sister at that time |
