If you look in your Wesley's Hymn-Book, at hymn 272, you will find this verse.
You have all learnt, in your geographies, that Land's End is the most southern point in England; look at the very south of Cornwall, and you will find it. Mr. Wesley was very fond of this wild, rocky point, with oceans rolling on either side,—the English Channel on the one, the mighty Atlantic on the other. He paid a last visit to it when he was an old, old man, eighty years or more. With furrowed cheeks, white hair streaming in the wind, and infirm limbs, he climbed over the steep rocks to get a long, last look at his favourite spot, themeeting of the waters. I believe hymn 59 was composed by Mr. Wesley as he stood on Land's End; this is one of the verses:
"Lo! on a narrow neck of land,'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand,Secure, insensible;A point of time, a moment's space,Removes me to that heavenly place,Or shuts me up in hell."
But we are getting on too fast, and must go back to the days when Mr. Wesley wasnotan old man. All his time was spent in preaching up and down the country, starting fresh societies, and encouraging old ones; and almost everywhere he and his helpers met with abuse and rough treatment.
In Manchester, which was even then a large and important town, Mr. Wesley preached to several thousands of people in the open air. At this meeting, his hearers either got tired of listening or they took offence at what he said, for, before he had finished, they threatened to bring out the fire-engine and squirt water upon him if he did not stop.
At Hull, on his first visit in 1752, lumps of earth and stones were thrown at him while he was preaching; and when the service was over, the mob followed him, shouting, hooting, and throwing stones until he reached his lodging.
Though Mr. Wesley could be as brave as a lion when it was necessary, he could also be as gentleas a lamb. Once, when he was preaching at Dewsbury, a man rushed up to him in a terrible rage, and struck him with all his might on the side of his face. It was such a hard blow that poor Mr. Wesley could not keep the tears from coming into his eyes. Instead of striking the man back or using angry words, he just did what Christ said we should do, he turned his other cheek (Matt. v. 39). The enraged man was so surprised at such unexpected gentleness, that he turned away and hid his face with shame, and was ever after one of the Methodists' greatest friends. Once he even risked his life to save one of their chapels from being destroyed.
Another time, when Mr. Wesley was at Falmouth in Cornwall, he called to see an invalid lady. The mob heard where he was, and surrounded the house, shrieking out: "Bring out the Canorum! Where is the Canorum?" This was a nickname which the Cornishmen had given the Methodists. With sticks and stones the mob tried to break open the front door of the poor sick lady's house; and while they were doing this, all the people in the house escaped by the backway, except Mr. Wesley and a servant girl. The girl did not like to leave Mr. Wesley alone in this great danger, and begged him to get away and hide himself. But John Wesley was not one of the "hiding" sort. Instead of that, as soon as they had succeeded in bursting the door open, he just walked straight among the mob, exclaiming: "HereI am! What have you got to say to me? To which of you have I done any wrong?"
He made his way out into the street bare-headed, talking all the time; and before he had finished, the ringleader of the mob declared no one should touch him, he would be his protector. So he reached his lodgings in safety.
Child
Back in London.—Mr. John and Mr. Charles go visiting.—Too much for one.—Talking matters over.—The first Methodist Conference.—No time to be in a hurry.—What early rising can do.—First tract distributors.—A big district.—Boarding schools 150 years ago.—Dreadful rules.
Back in London.—Mr. John and Mr. Charles go visiting.—Too much for one.—Talking matters over.—The first Methodist Conference.—No time to be in a hurry.—What early rising can do.—First tract distributors.—A big district.—Boarding schools 150 years ago.—Dreadful rules.
W
E have been travelling all over England with Mr. Wesley, now I think we must go back to London with him. The society there was still the largest in the country: in the year I am writing about (1744), they had one thousand nine hundred and fifty members. Mr. Wesley very much wished to visit every one of these members, and asked his brother Charles to go with him. They started their visiting at six o'clock every morning, and did not leave off till six o'clock at night.
Six o'clock a.m. seems a funny time to call and see any one, does it not? But you see people used to get up at four or five in the morning in those days,and used to go to bed at eight, so it was not really such a funny time as it seems.
Though Mr. John and Mr. Charles started so early and worked so late, it took them a long, long time to visit all those 1950 members, and when they had finished, Mr. Wesley realised for the first time how his work had grown. He saw it was impossible, even with his brother's help, to manage all the preachers and all the members scattered over the country, when even the work in London was more than he could undertake alone. He thought about this a great deal, and then he asked four clergymen and four of his helpers, or what we should call local preachers, to meet him and his brother at the Foundry, to talk things over and decide what ought to be done. These gentlemen accepted his invitation, and there, on that eventful Monday in June, 1744, the first Methodist Conference met; and from that time up to the present, no year has passed but Methodist preachers and helpers have gathered together to make plans and talk business.
I am sure you must all have heard of the Wesleyan Methodist Conference, which is now held every July or August in some one or other of the large towns of England. This first conference was opened with solemn prayer and a sermon by Mr. Charles Wesley; then all the difficulties of the work were talked over, and arrangements made for the future. Mr. John Wesley presided, and for forty-six years after, at everyconference, their beloved leader and head took the chair at this annual gathering.
You will think that what with travelling and preaching, and looking after his helpers, and visiting the members, Mr. Wesley could not find time for much else. But it is always the busiest people who have the most time. As I told you before, Mr. Wesley began his days very early, getting up at four o'clock; and by doing this every morning for sixty years, he managed not only to preach, and read, and visit, but also to write a great many books, and thousands of tracts—one of his books was called "Lessons for Children." Many of the tracts were about swearing and Sabbath-breaking, and printed on the outside were the words, "Not to be sold, but given away"; and he and his preachers used to carry them in their pockets and give them to the people they passed on the roads.
Another reason why Mr. Wesley had more time than most people was, because he
NEVER WASTED A MINUTE,
and though he did so much work, he wasnever in a hurry. He used to say, "I have no time to be in a hurry." Hurry you know does not always mean speed; when things are done in a hurry they are often only half done, and have to be done all over again.
You remember how the miners at Kingswoodcollected money and built a school for their children. Well, about ten years afterwards, another school was built at Kingswood for the children of the travelling preachers. These preachers had not much time to look after their families themselves, being so much away from home, and they wanted their boys and girls to be taught to read their Bibles and to learn to love Jesus. They had some dreadfully strict rules at this boarding school, which my readers would not have liked at all, and which I am afraid the children there did not like either, for I have heard that some of the boys ran away. They had to go to bed every night at eight o'clock, and what was worse, get up every morning at four. Then every little boy and girl, unless they were poorly, had to fast every Friday, that is, they were not allowed to have anything to eat all day until three o'clock. But I had better not tell you any more of these dreadful rules, only you may be very thankful that you are living in these days, when you have much better times than the boys and girls who lived 150 years ago.
Child
A visit to Ireland.—The sack that did not contain potatoes.—The bogie man.—What the sack did contain.—The prayer-meeting in the barn.—Mr. Charles Wesley gets married.—And so does Mr. John.—Two niggers who became missionaries.
A visit to Ireland.—The sack that did not contain potatoes.—The bogie man.—What the sack did contain.—The prayer-meeting in the barn.—Mr. Charles Wesley gets married.—And so does Mr. John.—Two niggers who became missionaries.
I
N 1749 Mr. Wesley paid a visit to Ireland, where already he had many followers. His brother Charles had visited there two years before, and was a great favourite, for the Irish people love music, and would always go to hear his hymns.
In many places in Ireland the Methodists were treated quite as badly as they were in our own country; but the same angel of the Lord that protected them in England followed them across the Irish sea.
There is a funny story told of how they were once saved from a band of rough men. The Roman Catholics persecuted them so much at Wexford that they were obliged to hold their meeting secretly in a barn. Once, one of their persecutors got to knowthe night they were having a meeting, and told his companions he would hide himself in the barn before the service began, and then when it commenced he would open the door to them. They thought this was a splendid idea. So the man went to the barn, and there found an old sack or bag, big enough for him to get into. Into this he crept, and by and by the people began to come, and the service commenced. First, they sang a hymn; and somehow the man in the bag enjoyed it so much, he quite forgot what he had come into the barn for.
He listened until the hymn was finished, and then he listened to the prayer that followed, and after that he could not listen any more. He couldn't get out of the bag, and he couldn't do anything but groan and cry. God, through the hymn and the prayer, had touched his heart, and he felt himself to be the greatest sinner in Ireland.
So he groaned and groaned, and at last some of the congregation heard him. They looked towards the place where the mysterious sound came from, but could see nothing except what looked like a sack of potatoes. Still the groaning went on, and some of the people got frightened, and were quite sure there was a bogie in the barn. At last one or two ventured to go nearer to the sack, then some one peeped in, and the poor trembling Irishman was discovered. He confessed to his purpose in hiding himself, told them God had stopped him in his evilplan, and begged them to pray for him. So the service was turned into a prayer-meeting, the man was converted, and became one of the best Methodists in Wexford.
Some of my readers will be wondering if Mr. John or Mr. Charles Wesley were ever married, and if they had any boys and girls of their own. Just before Mr. Wesley went to Ireland in 1749, he married his brother Charles to the daughter of a Welsh gentleman, and Mr. Wesley, himself, was married two years later to a lady who was a widow. You will be sorry to hear that this lady was not at all nice; she treated her husband most unkindly, and made him very unhappy. Though Mr. Wesley was so fond of children, he never had any of his own. Mr. Charles had eight, but only three lived to grow up. His wife was a good, kind lady, and they were very happy. He did not travel about so much after he was married, but spent a great deal of his time writing his beautiful hymns.
These two brothers always remained the best of friends. In one of his letters, Charles wrote to John: "I wish we could be oftener together; it might be better for us both. Let us be useful in our lives, and at our death not divided."
Before I close this chapter I want to tell you of the first two black men who were converted through the preaching of a Methodist.
Living at Wandsworth, a little place near London where Mr. Wesley had gone to preach, was a gentlemannamed Nathaniel Gilbert. He had come from the West Indies, where he employed a great many negroes. Two of these negroes he had brought over to England with him, and when Mr. Wesley paid a visit to Mr. Gilbert, and preached in his house, these two black men were converted. When they returned to the West Indies, they, along with Mr. Gilbert, preached the gospel of Jesus Christ to the dark people in those far-away islands.
"Shall we, whose souls are lightedWith wisdom from on high,Shall we to men benightedThe lamp of life deny?Salvation, oh, salvation,The joyful sound proclaim,Till earth's remotest nationHas learnt Messiah's name."
Book and Globe
Runaway horses.—Two frightened little girls.—A terrible moment.—Safe.—Psalm xci. 11, 12.—Mr. Wesley has a birthday.—A funny receipt for keeping young.
Runaway horses.—Two frightened little girls.—A terrible moment.—Safe.—Psalm xci. 11, 12.—Mr. Wesley has a birthday.—A funny receipt for keeping young.
O
NE more story of how the angel that shut the lions' mouths for Daniel took care of God's dear servant, John Wesley. He was staying at Newcastle with a Methodist named Mr. Smith, who had married his step-daughter. One day a party of them drove to a village a few miles off. In the carriage there was Mr. Wesley and a friend, Mr. and Mrs. Smith and their two little girls. When they had driven about two miles and were just at the top of a hill, suddenly the horses took fright, and dashed down the steep road. The poor coachman was thrown off the box, and the horses tore away at full speed, sometimes swerving to the edge of a ditch on one side of the road, then back again to a ditch on the other, but never once going over. When a cart came along, instead of runninginto it, the carriage passed as if the driver had been on the box.
At the bottom of the hill was a narrow bridge, which it seemed impossible the panting horses could cross safely. But exactly down the middle they went, swerving neither to the right or left. Then up the hill on the other side they dashed, passing many people on the road, but every one afraid to stop their mad career. Near the top of this hill was a gate, which led into a farmer's yard. The gate stood open, and turning sharp, the horses ran through without even touching gate or post. The gate on the other side of the yard was shut, and the terrified people in the carriage thought the horses would now be checked. Instead of that, they rushed through, breaking it up as if it had only been a spider's web, and galloped on through the corn-field.
The two little girls had been almost too frightened to speak, now they clung to Mr. Wesley, crying out: "Oh grandpapa, save us! save us!" Mr. Wesley, who says he felt no more afraid than if he had been sitting in his study, just calmly said to them: "Nothing will hurt you, dears; don't be afraid." The horses galloped madly on, till they came to the edge of a steep precipice. Would they go over? What would they do? Oh, what a terrible moment of suspense.
A gentleman on horseback seeing their danger, just galloped across the track of the frightened animals. This acted like magic; they stood still at once, andevery one was safe. A few minutes more and they would have been dashed to pieces. When they turned back into the road they found the coachman coming to meet them, and no worse for his fall.
Did not God keep His promise to the man who had "set his love upon Him"? "He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways: they shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone."—Psalm xci. 11, 12.
Mr. Wesley was an old man when this happened, just seventy-two; it was in June, and his birthday was on the 17th. But he was so strong and well, not at all like an old man. Listen to what he says of himself: "This is my birthday, the first day of my seventy-second year, and I am wondering how it is that I am just as strong as I was thirty years ago. Indeed, I am better than I was then; I can see better, and my nerves are firmer. The grand cause is 'the good pleasure of God.' But three special things have helped to keep me young:
First—Getting up at 4 o'clock every morning for fifty years.Second—Preaching every morning at five o'clock.Third—Travelling by sea or land 4,500 miles in every year."
First—Getting up at 4 o'clock every morning for fifty years.
Second—Preaching every morning at five o'clock.
Third—Travelling by sea or land 4,500 miles in every year."
These are funny things to keep any one young, are they not? I am afraid if to follow these rules is the only way to keep young, most of my readers will be content to grow old.
Little Mary and what she did with her money.—Caught on the stairs.—Cheered by the children.—Boys and girls converted.
Little Mary and what she did with her money.—Caught on the stairs.—Cheered by the children.—Boys and girls converted.
I
N the year 1770 the Methodists had grown so numerous that they counted forty-nine different circuits or societies in England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. They had one hundred and twenty-two travelling preachers, and twice as many local preachers, who did not travel, and at the covenant service which Mr. Wesley held at the beginning of this year in London, there were eighteen hundred members present.
Mr. Wesley, like our ministers nowadays, was often wanting money for different purposes, and, like our ministers too, he was always glad of the children's help. Once, when the Foundry wanted repairing, he specially asked for help at an evening service. A little girl named Mary heard him, and thought how much she would like to do something. And this is how she managed it.
Mr. Wesley loved children, and used to keep a number of bright new coins in his pocket to give to the little folks he met at his friends' houses. Mary had always been a great favourite with Mr. Wesley, and a proud little girl she was when he took her on his knee and gave her a silver penny. He had often done this, and she had treasured up his gifts in a little box. Other friends, too, had sometimes given her money, which, instead of spending she had saved up.
Well, when she got home after that evening service, she counted up her money, and found she had £3. So she went to her mother and asked if she might give it all to Mr. Wesley. Her mother was quite willing; so the next morning little Mary carried her savings to Mr. Wesley's room. Tears came into his eyes as he thanked his little favourite. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her very tenderly, and prayed that God's blessing might always rest upon her. And it did, for Mary grew up to be an earnest, happy Christian.
Here is another story that shows how much Mr. Wesley loved the young folks. He was once staying in a house in Bristol where a little boy and girl were visiting. The little girl had long, beautiful hair hanging in curls down her back. She and her brother were running hand in hand down the stairs one day, when Mr. Wesley ran down after them and caught them on the landing. He jumped the little girl in hisarms and kissed her; then putting his hand on the boy's head, he blessed him. Little Robert did not think much about this at the time, I dare say, but when he grew up, he felt all his life that the blessing of a good man rested upon him, and his eyes glistened with tears when he told the story. That little boy was the poet Southey, of whom you will read when you are older.
When Mr. Wesley wanted recreation or a kind of holiday, he used to go off to Kingswood. A few days among the young folks there always cheered him, and did him good. He loved to hear their lessons and praise their work, and arranged easy grammars and history books for them.
A great many people used to think then, as a few do now, that children could not be converted, and that they ought not to be members of society. Mr. Wesley never thought so. At Weardale he allowed thirty children to become members. At another place quite a number of boys and girls came to him after the preaching, wanting him to show them how they could belong to Jesus. Mr. Wesley had both then and always the words of Jesus Himself, before him, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not;" and so he knelt down with those boys and girls and led them to the Good Shepherd, who had laid down His life for them.
The children of Judea loved Jesus, and were glad to be with Him; and Mr. Wesley was so like Jesus,so loving and so kind, that the children of England could not help loving him, and were glad to be with him. A whole crowd once waited in the street a long time for him, and when at last he came, they all followed him like so many little lambs after their shepherd, as many as could clinging to him. They went to the meeting-house with him, and after the service was over would not leave until they had all shaken hands with him.
"In Cornwall, Manchester, and Epworth," Mr. Wesley says, "numbers of children were converted."
These verses apply to all my readers:
"God wants the boys, the merry, merry boys,The noisy boys, the funny boys,The thoughtless boys.God wants the boys with all their joys,That He, as gold, may make them pure,And teach them trials to endure;His heroes brave He'd have them be,Fighting for truth and purity,God wants the boys."God wants the girls, the happy-hearted girls,The loving girls, the best of girls,The worst of girls.God wants to make the girls His pearls,And so reflect His holy face,And bring to mind His wondrous grace,That beautiful the world may be,And filled with love and purity.God wants the girls."
How Mr. Wesley settled a school-boys' quarrel.—Dr. Watts and little birds.—Mr. Wesley, loved and honoured.—A holiday for the children.
How Mr. Wesley settled a school-boys' quarrel.—Dr. Watts and little birds.—Mr. Wesley, loved and honoured.—A holiday for the children.
H
ERE is a story of how Mr. Wesley settled a dispute between two quarrelsome school-boys. When he was an old man, seventy-three, he was staying with one of his local preachers, a Mr. Bush, who had a boarding-school. One day Mrs. Bush brought to him two boys who had been fighting.
"Boys! boys!" said Mr. Wesley:
"'Birds in their little nests agree,And 'tis a shameful sight,When children of one familyFall out, and chide, and fight!'
You must make it up. Come now, shake hands with each other."
Mr. Wesley, with his long white hair and beautifulface, looked and spoke so lovingly, that the boys did at once what he asked them.
"Now," he said, "put your arms round each other's necks, and kiss each other."
And the little boys did this too. He was just having his tea when Mrs. Bush brought in the culprits, and now taking two pieces of bread and butter, he folded them together and told each boy to break a piece off. Then he gave each of them a drink of tea out of his own cup.
"Now," he added, "you have broken bread together, and you have drunk out of the same cup, now you must be friends." Then he put his hands on the boys' heads and blessed them. The next morning at family prayer he sought out the boys and blessed them again.
The two lads never forgot this meeting with Mr. Wesley. One of them became a magistrate, and when he had children of his own he used to tell them this story of his school-days.
I remember that little verse of Dr. Watts' being recited to my brothers and me when we were in the nursery, and as I wrote it down I wondered if the same thoughts came into the heads of those school-boys that came into mine. My dear mother used to look very serious when she said it, and it sounded very solemn. But I had often seen little birds quarrelling, and I knew that hymn did not tell the truth, and so I felt little birds were hardly a proper exampleto follow. Now, though Dr. Watts was not quite correct, still little birds do agree very much better than many children; and if they sometimes quarrel, remember they are only guided by instinct, while you have sense, and know the difference between right and wrong.
You will all be glad to know that before Mr. Wesley died, all the ill-will and hatred of the people had changed to love and reverence. The very towns where he had been treated most unkindly were now the ones to give him the heartiest welcome. Instead of mobs waiting to abuse him, crowds gathered to do him honour. In many places the children had a holiday from school, the tradespeople closed their shops, and everybody tried who could best show their love and respect for the man whom before they had treated so unkindly.
Cherub
More peeps into the Magic Mirror.—A special picture for Sheffield readers.—Another for young folks in Oldham.—Little Daniel on the pulpit stairs.—Special for Hull.
More peeps into the Magic Mirror.—A special picture for Sheffield readers.—Another for young folks in Oldham.—Little Daniel on the pulpit stairs.—Special for Hull.
I
THINK we must have some more peeps into that Magic Mirror? Will my little Sheffield readers take a good look? What do we see? A street in a big town, and oh! such crowds and crowds of people on both sides of the road. The windows of the houses, too, are all crowded with people. What can it all mean? See! there are two men coming along, everybody is turning to look at them, and we can hear more than one voice saying: "God bless him! God bless him!" Several of the women are wiping their eyes with the corner of their aprons; there are tears in many eyes. Look at the two men as they come nearer. One is a middle-aged man; the other, who is leaning on his arm, wears a black gown and white bands. He is an old man, but how beautiful he looks. He hasa splendid face, a clear skin and rosy cheeks. His eyes are quick and keen, and he has long, shiny hair, white and bright like silver.
See now how the children are crowding round him! He is smiling down upon them and putting his hands upon their heads as he passes. Now he is stretching his hands out towards heaven, and blessing all the people, many of whom are weeping aloud. He has passed down the street, and the picture has gone. Sheffield readers, that was how your town welcomed and honoured dear John Wesley a short time before his death.
Now peep again into the Magic Mirror. And this time I would like my Oldham readers to step to the front. See, there is a little boy about six years old playing at the door of a house. An old clergyman is passing, and stops to speak to the child.
"Where is your father, Daniel?" he says.
"Gone to chapel."
"And your mother?"
"She's gone too," answers Daniel.
"And you shall go too, my boy. You must not miss seeing this great man, John Wesley," says the clergyman, as he takes the child's hand and fades away from our picture.
But see, there is another coming! It is the inside of a chapel, and people are everywhere; in the galleries, in the aisles, in the communion rails, everywhere. On the pulpit-stairs some one has found roomfor a little child. Why, it is Daniel, and there is the kind clergyman standing near. See, the preacher has finished, and is coming down from the pulpit, he is lifting up the little child and is kissing him. Now, he has passed into the vestry, and the picture has gone. That, my young Oldham readers, was the opening of Manchester St. Chapel on Good Friday, 1790, when Mr. Wesley was nearly ninety years old.
At Hull, Birmingham, Wednesbury, Chester, Manchester, Liverpool, all places where the Methodists had been most cruelly treated, Mr. Wesley and his followers were now most kindly welcomed. You remember how Mr. Wesley and his brother had been shut out of the churches, very few clergymen allowing them to preach in their pulpits. This, too, was all changed.
Those of you who live in Hull will like to know that John Wesley, when he was eighty-three, was invited by the vicar to preach in your beautiful High Church. If any of you have not been inside—but surely all my Hull readers have—pay it a visit, and just fancy you see that bright-eyed, silver-haired old man, with a voice that had lost little of the strength of youth, preaching to the crowds that thronged the hallowed place. If those old grey walls could speak, we might know John Wesley's very words. He preached again at night, and though so old, was unwearied with his work. He went on to Beverleythat same evening, and the next day travelled seventy-six miles, preached at Malton, Pocklington, and Swinefleet, and went to bed without feeling the least bit tired. Wonderful John Wesley! God-blest John Wesley!
Bird
Beverley friends.—Copy of a letter John Wesley wrote to them.—Mr. Wesley's last visit to Beverley.—What took place in the red-roofed inn.—A race.—A lost ten minutes.
Beverley friends.—Copy of a letter John Wesley wrote to them.—Mr. Wesley's last visit to Beverley.—What took place in the red-roofed inn.—A race.—A lost ten minutes.
Y
OU, who live in Beverley, will be glad to hear that Mr. Wesley did not pass by your dear little town. Indeed, there is a house in Norwood where he most probably stayed, and certainly visited; the home of Mr. and Mrs. Barton. You shall see an exact copy of a letter he wrote to these friends. It has never been printed before, so you are the first of the public to see it. It is addressed thus:
"Mrs. Jane Barton,"In Norwood, Beverley,"Yorkshire."
And this is the letter:
Letter
Transcriber's Note: Clicking on this image will show the reader a larger image.
You must not make a mistake and think that Mr. Wesley was Mrs. Jenny Barton's brother really; but it was the custom among the Methodists for the members of society to address each other as "Brother So-and-So" and "Sister So-and-So," meaning that they were brothers and sisters in having the same heavenly Father, and loving the same Saviour.
John Wesley preached in a meeting-house in Wood Lane, which you can still see, though it is now turned into cottages; and we may be quite sure that the boys and girls who lived in Beverley then, heard his loving words, and received his blessing. He once spent two days of his birthday month in your quaint old town. The June sun stole through the stained windows of the beautiful Minster, and looked into the jackdaws' nests on St. Mary's Tower.
There is a funny story told of this last visit, which he paid only a few months before his death. He was going to preach in Hull again, and forty friends from that town had come over to see him. They were all to have dinner together in the red-roofed inn where he was staying, and then drive back with him to Hull. Everybody was very merry, and they laughed and talked so much that they quite forgot all about the time. Suddenly, Mr. Wesley looked at his watch, then jumped up from the dinner table, shouted good-bye to his friends, stepped into his carriage, which had been waiting some time for him at the door,and was off before his astonished friends could say a word. Their horses and carriages were got ready with all speed, but it was only by driving very fast that they managed to overtake Mr. Wesley before he rode into Hull.
Punctuality was one of Mr. Wesley's strongest points. He could never bear to be a minute behind time. Once, when his carriage did not come punctually, he was heard to say: "I have lost ten minutes for ever."
Cherub and Harp
Going to sleep.—How John Wesley missed his brother.—A good man's tears.—Getting old.—Mr. Wesley's text for the children.—Last words in Manchester.—In Colchester.—A dinner-hour meeting.—The old ash tree.
Going to sleep.—How John Wesley missed his brother.—A good man's tears.—Getting old.—Mr. Wesley's text for the children.—Last words in Manchester.—In Colchester.—A dinner-hour meeting.—The old ash tree.
N
OW I must come to what seems to the young a very sad time. When we are strong and healthy, and can enjoy all the things God has given us to enjoy in this beautiful world, death does seem very sad and sorrowful. But think, dear young readers, how you feel when you have been playing hard all day, or working at school, and perhaps gone to a party in the evening and have not got to bed until 10 o'clock. Is it not very nice and very comforting to lay your head on your soft pillow and go to sleep? Now this is just how God's people feel when they are tired of life's work, they just close their eyes and fall asleep, "asleep in Jesus." This is how Mr. Charles Wesley passed away when he was eighty years old.Though four years younger than Mr. John, he seemed the older man, for he had been weak and infirm for a long time. The two brothers had loved each other dearly, and Mr. Wesley felt very lonely when "Charlie" died.
Three weeks afterwards, Mr. Wesley, preaching at Bolton, gave out for his second hymn No. 140, a hymn composed by Mr. Charles. He tried to read the first verse, but when he came to the words
"My company before is gone,And I am left alone with Thee,"
he could get no further, but just burst into tears, and sat down in the pulpit, burying his face in his hands. The singing ceased, and numbers of the congregation wept in sympathy at sight of their dear leader's sorrow. At last Mr. Wesley recovered himself, and went on with the service, which was never forgotten by any of those who were present.
Very soon after this, Mr. Wesley began to feel weak and feeble. Again his birthday month came round, the sunny month of June, and on the 17th he wrote: "I am eighty-six to-day, and I find I grow old. My eyes are so dim that no spectacles will help me, and I cannot read small print except in a very strong light. My strength fails me so that I walk much slower than I used to do." He was now, for the first time for forty years, obliged to give up his five o'clock morning sermons, and was only able to preach twice a day. As the months went by, hegrew weaker and more infirm. Once, as the old man tottered up the pulpit stairs, the whole congregation burst into tears.
On Valentine's Day, in 1790, he preached one of his last sermons to hislittlefollowers. He chose for his text: "Come, ye children, hearken unto Me: I will teach you the fear of the Lord." The boys and girls flocked from everywhere to hear him, and many who had never loved Jesus before, heard Him speaking to them through His dear servant; and answering the loving call, came, and from that day became Christ's faithful little soldiers.
In the same year, when he was eighty-seven years old, he spent a week-end in Manchester, and spoke his last words to his followers there. He preached in the old chapel in Oldham Street on the Saturday night, and the next day, which was Easter Sunday (April 4th), he assisted in giving the Sacrament to sixteen hundred members, and preached both night and morning without feeling tired.
A few months later he preached at Colchester; but he was so infirm that a minister had to stand on each side of him, and hold him up. His voice was feeble and low, and many of the congregation could not hear him; but his calm, beautiful face, and long white hair formed a picture that the children and grown-up people in Colchester never forgot.
It was in this same year, 1790, that he preached for the last time in the open air. It was inWinchelsea, and the time was October, the month when nuts and apples are asking to be gathered, and when the leaves put on their loveliest dress.
As Mr. Wesley felt his time on earth was drawing to a close, he was all the more eager to "tell to all around, what a dear Saviour he had found," and how they might find Him too. So he preached at twelve o'clock noon, the dinner hour of the workmen, in order that they too might have a chance of hearing the good news. A large oak dining-table was brought into the churchyard, and there, under the shade of an old ash tree, John Wesley gave his last message to those working men. "The kingdom of Heaven is at hand; repent ye, and believe the Gospel," was his text, and as he preached, the tears of the people flowed down their cheeks.
Long, long afterwards the old ash tree was known as "Wesley's Tree," and the vicar of Winchelsea had hard work to keep it from being cut to pieces; for Methodists use to come from all parts to cut a twig in remembrance of that last scene in the life of the venerable field-preacher.
Harp
About his "Father's business."—Last advice.—Singing and dying.—"The best of all is, God is with us."—John Wesley passes through the Golden Gates.
About his "Father's business."—Last advice.—Singing and dying.—"The best of all is, God is with us."—John Wesley passes through the Golden Gates.
M
OST people think it is time to stop working long before they are eighty, but John Wesley at eighty-seven still went about his "Father's business." His constant prayer was, "Lord, let me not live to be useless." Every meeting he knew might be his last, and when he visited the different societies, he used to ask the members to take as his last advice: "To love as brothers, to fear God, and to honour the King." He closed nearly all these meetings with his brother's hymn: