📘 The Journal of John Wesley, 1735–1740 (selections)

1. Storms at Sea and a New World: The Voyage to Georgia (1735–1736)

John Wesley, Journal, 14 October 1735 – 30 March 1736 (Works, ed. Thomas Jackson, 3rd ed., 1872, vol. I). Selected dated entries; omissions are marked […]. Text from an OCR of the 1872 scan, cleaned by CTS but not yet collated against the printed page. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.

CTS note: Wesley writes in eighteenth-century English. Each entry gives the day of the week and the day of the month; the month and year are named only when they change. “Mr. Oglethorpe” is James Oglethorpe, founder of the Georgia colony. “The Germans” are Moravian Brethren from Herrnhut in Saxony (Wesley spells it “Hernhuth”). Words in square brackets are notes from the printed edition (“Edit.”) or short CTS additions.

Tuesday, October 14, 1735.—Mr. Benjamin Ingham, of Queen’s College, Oxford, Mr. Charles Delamotte, son of a merchant, in London, who had offered himself some days before, my brother Charles Wesley, and myself, took boat for Gravesend, in order to embark for Georgia. Our end in leaving our native country was not to avoid want, (God having given us plenty of temporal blessings,) nor to gain the dung or dross of riches or honour; but singly this,—to save our souls; to live wholly to the glory of God. In the afternoon we found the Simmonds off Gravesend, and immediately went on board.

Wednesday and Thursday we spent with one or two of our friends, partly on board and partly on shore, in exhorting one another “to shake off every weight, and to run with patience the race set before us.”

Fri. 17.—I began to learn German, in order to converse with the Germans, six-and-twenty of whom we had on board. On Sunday, the weather being fair and calm, we had the Morning Service on quarter-deck. I now first preached extempore, and then administered the Lord’s supper to six or seven communicants. A little flock. May God increase it!

Mon. 20.—Believing the denying ourselves, even in the smallest instances, might, by the blessing of God, be helpful to us, we wholly left off the use of flesh and wine, and confined ourselves to vegetable food,—chiefly rice and biscuit. In the afternoon, David Nitschman, Bishop of the Germans, and two others, began to learn English. O may we be, not only of one tongue, but of one mind and of one heart!

Tues. 21.—We sailed from Gravesend. When we were past about half the Goodwin Sands, the wind suddenly failed. Had the calm continued till ebb, the ship had probably been lost. But the gale sprung up again in an hour, and carried us into the Downs.

We now began to be a little regular. Our common way of living was this:—From four in the morning till five, each of us used private prayer. From five to seven we read the Bible together, carefully comparing it (that we might not lean to our own understandings) with the writings of the earliest ages. At seven we breakfasted. At eight were the public prayers. From nine to twelve, I usually learned German, and Mr. Delamotte, Greek. My brother writ sermons, and Mr. Ingham instructed the children. At twelve we met to give an account to one another what we had done since our last meeting, and what we designed to do before our next. About one we dined. The time from dinner to four, we spent in reading to those whom each of us had taken in charge, or in speaking to them severally, as need required. At four were the evening prayers; when either the second lesson was explained, (as it always was in the morning,) or the children were catechised and instructed before the congregation. From five to six we again used private prayer. From six to seven I read in our cabin to two or three of the passengers, (of whom there were about eighty English on board,) and each of my brethren to a few more in theirs. At seven I joined with the Germans in their public service; while Mr. Ingham was reading between the decks, to as many as desired to hear. At eight we met again, to exhort and instruct one another. Between nine and ten we went to bed, where neither the roaring of the sea, nor the motion of the ship, could take away the refreshing sleep which God gave us.

Fri. 24.—Having a rolling sea, most of the passengers found the effects of it. Mr. Delamotte was exceeding sick for several days; Mr. Ingham, for about half an hour. My brother’s head ached much. Hitherto it hath pleased God, the sea has not disordered me at all; nor have I been hindered one quarter of an hour from reading, writing, composing, or doing any business I could have done on shore.

During our stay in the Downs, some or other of us went, as often as we had opportunity, on board the ship that sailed in company with us, where also many were glad to join in prayer and hearing the word.

Fri. 31.—We sailed out of the Downs. At eleven at night I was waked by a great noise. I soon found there was no danger. But the bare apprehension of it gave me a lively conviction what manner of men those ought to be who are every moment on the brink of eternity.

Sat. Nov. 1.—We came to St. Helen’s harbour, and the next day into Cowes road. The wind was fair, but we waited for the man-of-war which was to sail with us. This was a happy opportunity of instructing our fellow-travellers. May He whose seed we sow, give it the increase!

Sun. 16.—Thomas Hird, and Grace his wife, with their children, Mark, aged twenty-one, and Phebe, about seventeen, late Quakers, were, at their often-repeated desire, and after careful instruction, admitted to baptism.

Thur. 20.—We fell down into Yarmouth road, but the next day were forced back into Cowes. During our stay here there were several storms; in one of which two ships in Yarmouth road were lost.

The continuance of the contrary winds gave my brother an opportunity of complying with the desire of the Minister of Cowes, and preaching there three or four times. The poor people flocked together in great numbers. We distributed a few little books among the more serious of them, which they received with all possible expressions of thankfulness.

Fri. 21.—One recovering from a dangerous illness desired to be instructed in the nature of the Lord’s supper. I thought it concerned her to be first instructed in the nature of Christianity; and, accordingly, fixed an hour a day to read with her in Mr. Law’s Treatise on Christian Perfection.

Sun. 23.—At night I was awaked by the tossing of the ship and roaring of the wind, and plainly showed I was unfit, for I was unwilling, to die.

Tues. Dec. 2.—I had much satisfaction in conversing with one that was very ill and very serious. But in a few days she recovered from her sickness and from her seriousness together.

Sun. 7.—Finding nature did not require so frequent supplies as we had been accustomed to, we agreed to leave off suppers; from doing which, we have hitherto found no inconvenience.

Wed. 10.—We sailed from Cowes, and in the afternoon passed the Needles. Here the ragged rocks, with the waves dashing and foaming at the foot of them, and the white side of the island rising to such a height, perpendicular from the beach, gave a strong idea of “Him that spanneth the heavens, and holdeth the waters in the hollow of His hand!” To-day I spoke closely on the head of religion, to one I had talked with once or twice before. Afterwards she said, with many tears, “My mother died when I was but ten years old. Some of her last words were, ‘Child, fear God; and though you lose me, you shall never want a friend.’ I have now found a friend when I most wanted and least expected one.” From this day to the fourteenth, being in the Bay of Biscay, the sea was very rough. Mr. Delamotte and many others were more sick than ever; Mr. Ingham, a little; I, not at all. But the fourteenth being a calm day, most of the sick were cured at once.

Thur. 18.—One who was big with child, in a high fever, and almost wasted away with a violent cough, desired to receive the holy communion before she died. At the hour of her receiving she began to recover, and in a few days was entirely out of danger.

Sun. 21.—We had fifteen communicants, which was our usual number on Sundays: On Christmas-day we had nineteen; but on New Year’s day fifteen only.

Thur. Jan. 15, 1736.—Complaint being made to Mr. Oglethorpe, of the unequal distribution of the water among the passengers, he appointed new officers to take charge of it. At this the old ones and their friends were highly exasperated against us, to whom they imputed the change. But “the fierceness of man shall turn to Thy praise.”

Sat. 17.—Many people were very impatient at the contrary wind. At seven in the evening they were quieted by a storm. It rose higher and higher till nine. About nine the sea broke over us from stem to stern; burst through the windows of the state cabin, where three or four of us were, and covered us all over, though a bureau sheltered me from the main shock. About eleven I lay down in the great cabin, and in a short time fell asleep, though very uncertain whether I should wake alive, and much ashamed of my unwillingness to die. O how pure in heart must he be, who would rejoice to appear before God at a moment’s warning! Toward morning, “He rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm.”

Sun. 18.—We returned God thanks for our deliverance, of which a few appeared duly sensible. But the rest (among whom were most of the sailors) denied we had been in any danger. I could not have believed that so little good would have been done by the terror they were in before. But it cannot be that they should long obey God from fear, who are deaf to the motives of love.

Fri. 23.—In the evening another storm began. In the morning it increased, so that they were forced to let the ship drive. I could not but say to myself, “How is it that thou hast no faith?” being still unwilling to die. About one in the afternoon, almost as soon as I had stepped out of the great cabin-door, the sea did not break as usual, but came with a full, smooth tide over the side of the ship. I was vaulted over with water in a moment, and so stunned that I scarce expected to lift up my head again, till the sea should give up her dead. But thanks be to God, I received no hurt at all. About midnight the storm ceased.

Sun. 25.—At noon our third storm began. At four it was more violent than before. Now, indeed, we could say, “The waves of the sea were mighty, and raged horribly. They rose up to the heavens above, and” clave “down to hell beneath.” The winds roared round about us, and (what I never heard before) whistled as distinctly as if it had been a human voice. The ship not only rocked to and fro with the utmost violence, but shook and jarred with so unequal, grating a motion, that one could not but with great difficulty keep one’s hold of any thing, nor stand a moment without it. Every ten minutes came a shock against the stern or side of the ship, which one would think should dash the planks in pieces. At this time a child, privately baptized before, was brought to be received into the church. It put me in mind of Jeremiah’s buying the field, when the Chaldeans were on the point of destroying Jerusalem, and seemed a pledge of the mercy God designed to show us, even in the land of the living.

We spent two or three hours after prayers, in conversing suitably to the occasion, confirming one another in a calm submission to the wise, holy, gracious will of God. And now a storm did not appear so terrible as before. Blessed be the God of all consolation!

At seven I went to the Germans. I had long before observed the great seriousness of their behaviour. Of their humility they had given a continual proof, by performing those servile offices for the other passengers, which none of the English would undertake; for which they desired, and would receive no pay, saying, “it was good for their proud hearts,” and “their loving Saviour had done more for them.” And every day had given them occasion of showing a meekness which no injury could move. If they were pushed, struck, or thrown down, they rose again and went away; but no complaint was found in their mouth. There was now an opportunity of trying whether they were delivered from the spirit of fear, as well as from that of pride, anger, and revenge. In the midst of the psalm wherewith their service began, the sea broke over, split the main-sail in pieces, covered the ship, and poured in between the decks, as if the great deep had already swallowed us up. A terrible screaming began among the English. The Germans calmly sung on. I asked one of them afterwards, “Was you not afraid?” He answered, “I thank God, no.” I asked, “But were not your women and children afraid?” He replied, mildly, “No; our women and children are not afraid to die.”

From them I went to their crying, trembling neighbours, and pointed out to them the difference in the hour of trial, between him that feareth God, and him that feareth him not. At twelve the wind fell. This was the most glorious day which I have hitherto seen.

Mon. 26.—We enjoyed the calm. I can conceive no difference comparable to that between a smooth and a rough sea, except that which is between a mind calmed by the love of God, and one torn up by the storms of earthly passions.

Thur. 29.—About seven in the evening, we fell in with the skirts of a hurricane. The rain as well as the wind was extremely violent. The sky was so dark in a moment, that the sailors could not so much as see the ropes, or set about furling the sails. The ship must, in all probability, have overset, had not the wind fell as suddenly as it rose. Toward the end of it, we had that appearance on each of the masts, which (it is thought) the ancients called Castor and Pollux. It was a small ball of white fire, like a star. The mariners say, it appears either in a storm, (and then commonly upon the deck,) or just at the end of it; and then it is usually on the masts or sails.

Fri. 30.—We had another storm, which did us no other harm than splitting the fore-sail. Our bed being wet, I laid me down on the floor, and slept sound till morning. And, I believe, I shall not find it needful to go to bed (as it is called) any more.

Sun. Feb. 1.—We spoke with a ship of Carolina; and Wednesday, 4, came within soundings. About noon, the trees were visible from the mast, and in the afternoon from the main deck. In the Evening Lesson were these words: “A great door, and effectual, is opened.” O let no one shut it!

Thur. 5.—Between two and three in the afternoon, God brought us all safe into the Savannah river. We cast anchor near Tybee Island, where the groves of pines, running along the shore, made an agreeable prospect, showing, as it were, the bloom of spring in the depth of winter.

Fri. 6.—About eight in the morning, we first set foot on American ground. It was a small uninhabited island, over against Tybee. Mr. Oglethorpe led us to a rising ground, where we all kneeled down to give thanks. He then took boat for Savannah. When the rest of the people were come on shore, we called our little flock together to prayers. Several parts of the Second Lesson (Mark vi.) were wonderfully suited to the occasion; in particular, the account of the courage and sufferings of John the Baptist; our Lord’s directions to the first Preachers of his Gospel, and their toiling at sea, and deliverance; with these comfortable words: “It is I, be not afraid.”

Sat. 7.—Mr. Oglethorpe returned from Savannah with Mr. Spangenberg, one of the Pastors of the Germans. I soon found what spirit he was of; and asked his advice with regard to my own conduct. He said, “My brother, I must first ask you one or two questions. Have you the witness within yourself? Does the Spirit of God bear witness with your spirit, that you are a child of God?” I was surprised, and knew not what to answer. He observed it, and asked, “Do you know Jesus Christ?” I paused, and said, “I know he is the Saviour of the world.” “True,” replied he; “but do you know he has saved you?” I answered, “I hope he has died to save me.” He only added, “Do you know yourself?” I said, “I do.” But I fear they were vain words.

Mon. 9.—I asked him many questions, both concerning himself and the church at Hernhuth. The substance of his answers was this:— “At eighteen years old, I was sent to the university of Jena, where I spent some years in learning languages, and the vain philosophy, which I have now long been labouring to forget. Here it pleased God, by some that preached his word with power, to overturn my heart. I immediately threw aside all my learning, but what tended to save my soul. I shunned all company, and retired into a solitary place, resolving to spend my life there. For three days I had much comfort here; but on the fourth it was all gone. I was amazed, and went for advice to an experienced Christian. When I came to him, I could not speak. But he saw my heart, and advised me to go back to my house, and follow the business Providence called me to. I went back, but was fit for nothing. I could neither do business, nor join in any conversation. All I could say to any one, was Yes, or No. Many times I could not say that, nor understand the plainest thing that was said to me. My friends and acquaintance looked upon me as dead, came no more to me, nor spoke about me.

“When I grew better, I began teaching some poor children. Others joining with me, we taught more and more, till there were above thirty teachers, and above two hundred scholars. I had now invitations to other universities. But I could not accept of any; desiring only, if it were the will of God, to be little and unknown. I had spent some years thus, when Professor Breithaupt, of Halle, died: Being then pressed to remove thither, I believed it was the call of God, and went. I had not been long there, before many faults were found, both with my behaviour and preaching; and offences increased more and more, till, after half a year, a petition against me was sent to the King of Prussia, who sent an order to the commander at Halle; in pursuance whereof I was warned to leave the city in forty-eight hours. I did so, and retired to Hernhuth to Count Zinzendorf.

“The village of Hernhuth contains about a thousand souls, gathered out of many nations. They hold fast the discipline, as well as the faith and practice, of the apostolical Church. I was desired by the brethren there last year, to conduct sixteen of them to Georgia, where two lots of ground are assigned us; and with them I have staid ever since.”

I asked, “Whither he was to go next?” He said, “I have thoughts of going to Pennsylvania. But what God will do with me I know not. I am blind. I am a child. My Father knows; and I am ready to go wherever He calls.”

Fri. 13.—Some of the Indians sent us word of their intention to come down to us. In our course of reading to-day, were these words: “Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, It shall yet come to pass, that there shall come people, and the inhabitants of many cities: And the inhabitants of one city shall go to another, saying, Let us go speedily to pray before the Lord, and to seek the Lord of Hosts: I will go also. Yea, many people and strong nations shall come to seek the Lord of Hosts in Jerusalem, and to pray before the Lord.” (Zech. viii. 20—22.)

Sat. 14.—About one, Tomo Chachi, his nephew Thleeanouhee, his wife Sinauky, with two more women, and two or three Indian children, came on board. As soon as we came in, they all rose and shook us by the hand; and Tomo Chachi (one Mrs. Musgrove interpreted) spoke as follows:— “I am glad you are come. When I was in England, I desired that some would speak the great Word to me; and my nation then desired to hear it; but now we are all in confusion. Yet I am glad you are come. I will go up and speak to the wise men of our nation; and I hope they will hear. But we would not be made Christians as the Spaniards make Christians: We would be taught, before we are baptized.” I answered, “There is but One, He that sitteth in heaven, who is able to teach man wisdom. Though we are come so far, we know not whether He will please to teach you by us or no. If He teaches you, you will learn wisdom, but we can do nothing.” We then withdrew.

Sun. 15.—Another party of Indians came; they were all tall, well-proportioned men, and had a remarkable softness in their speech, and gentleness in their whole behaviour. In the afternoon, they all returned home but three, who stayed to go with Mr. Oglethorpe.

Mon. 16.—Mr. Oglethorpe set out for the new settlement on the Alatamahaw river. He took with him fifty men, besides Mr. Ingham, Mr. Hemsdorf, and the three Indians.

Thur. 19.—My brother and I took boat, and, passing by Savannah, went to pay our first visit in America to the poor Heathens. But neither Tomo Chachi nor Sinauky was at home. Coming back, we waited upon Mr. Causton, the chief Magistrate of Savannah. From him we went with Mr. Spangenberg to the German brethren. About eleven we returned to the boat, and came to our ship about four in the morning.

Sat. 21.—Mary Welch, aged eleven days, was baptized according to the custom of the first church, and the rule of the Church of England, by immersion. The child was ill then, but recovered from that hour.

Tues. 24.—Mr. Oglethorpe returned. The day following I took my leave of most of the passengers of the ship, who all appeared serious. It may be, all the seed is not fallen upon stony ground.

In the evening I went to Savannah again, whence Mr. Spangenberg, Bishop Nitschman, and Andrew Dober, went up with us to Mrs. Musgrove’s, to choose a spot for the little house, which Mr. Oglethorpe had promised to build us. Being afterward disappointed of our boat, we were obliged to pass the night there. But wherever we are it is the same thing, if it be the will of our Father which is in heaven.

At our return the next day, (Mr. Quincy being then in the house wherein we afterwards were,) Mr. Delamotte and I took up our lodging with the Germans. We had now an opportunity, day by day, of observing their whole behaviour. For we were in one room with them from morning to night, unless for the little time I spent in walking. They were always employed, always cheerful themselves, and in good humour with one another; they had put away all anger, and strife, and wrath, and bitterness, and clamour, and evil-speaking; they walked worthy of the vocation wherewith they were called, and adorned the Gospel of our Lord in all things.

Sat. 28.—They met to consult concerning the affairs of their Church; Mr. Spangenberg being shortly to go to Pennsylvania, and Bishop Nitschman to return to Germany. After several hours spent in conference and prayer, they proceeded to the election and ordination of a Bishop. The great simplicity, as well as solemnity, of the whole, almost made me forget the seventeen hundred years between, and imagine myself in one of those assemblies where form and state were not; but Paul the tent-maker, or Peter the fisherman, presided; yet with the demonstration of the Spirit and of power.

Sun. 29.—Hearing Mr. Oglethorpe did not come any more to Savannah, before he went to Frederica, I was obliged to go down to the ship again, (Mr. Spangenberg following me thither,) and receive his orders and instructions on several heads. From him we went to public prayers; after which we were refreshed by several letters from England. Upon which I could not but observe, how careful our Lord is to repay whatever we give up on his account. When I left England, I was chiefly afraid of two things: One, that I should never again have so many faithful friends as I left there; the other, that the spark of love which began to kindle in their hearts would cool and die away. But who knoweth the mercy and power of God? From ten friends I am awhile secluded, and he hath opened me a door into a whole Church. And as to the very persons I left behind, his Spirit is gone forth so much the more, teaching them not to trust in man, but “in Him that raised the dead, and calleth the things that are not, as though they were.” About four, having taken leave of Mr. Spangenberg, who was the next morning to set out for Pennsylvania, I returned to Savannah.

Sat. March 6.—I had a long conversation with John Reinier, the son of a gentleman, who, being driven out of France, on account of his religion, settled at Vivay, in Switzerland, and practised physic there. His father died while he was a child. Some years after, he told his mother he was desirous to leave Switzerland, and to retire into some other country, where he might be free from the temptations which he could not avoid there. When her consent was at length obtained, he agreed with a master of a vessel, with whom he went to Holland by land, thence to England, and from England to Pennsylvania. He was provided with money, books, and drugs, intending to follow his father’s profession. But no sooner was he come to Philadelphia, than the Captain, who had borrowed his money before, instead of repaying it, demanded the full pay for his passage, and under that pretence seized on all his effects. He then left him in a strange country, where he could not speak to be understood, without necessaries, money, or friends. In this condition he thought it best to sell himself for a servant, which he accordingly did, for seven years. When about five were expired, he fell sick of a lingering illness, which made him useless to his master; who, after it had continued half a year, would not keep him any longer, but turned him out to shift for himself. He first tried to mend shoes, but soon after joined himself to some French Protestants, and learned to make buttons. He then went and lived with an Anabaptist; but soon after, hearing an account of the Germans in Georgia, walked from Pennsylvania thither, where he found the rest which he had so long sought in vain.

Sun. 7.—I entered upon my ministry at Savannah, by preaching on the Epistle for the day, being the thirteenth of the first of Corinthians. In the second lesson (Luke xviii.) was our Lord’s prediction of the treatment which he himself (and, consequently, his followers) was to meet with from the world; and his gracious promises to those who are content, nudi nudum Christum sequi [“Naked to follow a naked Christ.”—Edit.]; “Verily I say unto you, There is no man that hath left house, or friends, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom of God’s sake, who shall not receive manifold more in this present time, and in the world to come life everlasting.”

Yet, notwithstanding these plain declarations of our Lord,—notwithstanding my own repeated experience,—notwithstanding the experience of all the sincere followers of Christ whom I have ever talked with, read or heard of; nay, and the reason of the thing evincing to a demonstration that all who love not the light must hate Him who is continually labouring to pour it in upon them; I do here bear witness against myself, that when I saw the number of people crowding into the church, the deep attention with which they received the word, and the seriousness that afterwards sat on all their faces: I could scarce refrain from giving the lie to experience and reason and Scripture all together. I could hardly believe that the greater, the far greater part of this attentive, serious people would hereafter trample under foot that word, and say all manner of evil falsely of him that spake it. O who can believe what their heart abhors? Jesus, Master, have mercy on us! Let us love thy cross; then shall we believe, “if we suffer with thee, we shall also reign with thee!”

This evening one of the Germans, who had been long ill of a consumption, found himself much worse. On my mentioning it to Bishop Nitschman, he smiled and said, “He will soon be well; he is ready for the Bridegroom.”

Sun. 14.—Having before given notice of my design to do so, every Sunday and holiday, according to the rules of our Church, I administered the holy communion to eighteen persons. Which of these will endure to the end?

Mon. 15.—Mr. Quincy going for Carolina, I removed into the Minister’s house. It is large enough for a larger family than ours, and has many conveniences, besides a good garden. I could not but reflect on the well-known epigram:— [illegible: a Greek verse; the editor’s footnote renders it, “Formerly I was the estate of Achaemenides, but I am now the property of Menippus.”] How short a time will it be before its present possessor is removed! perhaps to be no more seen!

Sun. 28.—A servant of Mr. Bradley’s sent to desire to speak with me. Going to him, I found a young man ill, but perfectly sensible. He desired the rest to go out, and then said, “On Thursday night, about eleven, being in bed, but broad awake, I heard one calling aloud, ‘Peter! Peter Wright!’ and looking up, the room was as light as day, and I saw a man in very bright clothes stand by the bed, who said, ‘Prepare yourself, for your end is nigh;’ and then immediately all was dark as before.” I told him, “The advice was good, whencesoever it came.” In a few days he recovered from his illness; his whole temper was changed as well as his life; and so continued to be, till after three or four weeks he relapsed, and died in peace.

Tues. 30.—Mr. Ingham, coming from Frederica, brought me letters, pressing me to go thither. The next day Mr. Delamotte and I began to try, whether life might not as well be sustained by one sort as by a variety of food. We chose to make the experiment with bread; and were never more vigorous and healthy than while we tasted nothing else. “Blessed are the pure in heart;” who, whether they eat or drink, or whatever they do, have no end therein but to please God! To them all things are pure. Every creature is good to them, and nothing to be rejected. But let them who know and feel that they are not thus pure, use every help, and remove every hinderance; always remembering, “He that despiseth little things shall fall by little and little.”

2. A Parish in the Wilderness: Georgia (1736–1737)

John Wesley, Journal, 4 April 1736 – 22 December 1737 (Works, ed. Thomas Jackson, 3rd ed., 1872, vol. I). Selected dated entries; omissions are marked […]. Text from an OCR of the 1872 scan, cleaned by CTS but not yet collated against the printed page. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.

CTS note: In Savannah Wesley served as the colony’s Church of England minister. These entries show his first small “societies,” his strict keeping of the Prayer Book rubrics, his hopes of preaching to the Native nations, and the dispute that followed his refusal of Communion to Mrs. Sophia Williamson, which ended in his departure. A Grand Jury “presentment” was a formal accusation; Constables and Tithingmen were local officers. Omitted entries are marked […].

Sun. April 4.—About four in the afternoon I set out for Frederica, in a pettiawga,—a sort of flat-bottomed barge. The next evening we anchored near Skidoway Island, where the water, at flood, was twelve or fourteen foot deep. I wrapped myself up from head to foot, in a large cloak, to keep off the sand-flies, and lay down on the quarter-deck. Between one and two I waked under water, being so fast asleep that I did not find where I was till my mouth was full of it. Having left my cloak, I know not how, upon deck, I swam round to the other side of the pettiawga, where a boat was tied, and climbed up by the rope without any hurt, more than wetting my clothes. Thou art the God of whom cometh salvation: Thou art the Lord by whom we escape death.

The winds were so contrary, that on Saturday, 10, we could but just get over against Doboy Island, twenty miles from Frederica, but could not possibly make the creek, having a strong tide also against us. Here we lay beating off till past one, when the lightning and rain, which we had long seen at a distance, drove down full upon us; till, after a quarter of an hour, the clouds parted, some passing on the right, and some on the left, leaving us a clear sky, and so strong a wind right after us, as in two hours brought us to Frederica. A little before we landed, I opened my Testament on these words: “If God be for us, who can be against us?” Coming on shore, I found my brother exceeding weak, having been for some time ill of a flux; but he mended from the hour he saw me. This also hath God wrought!

Sun. 11.—I preached at the new storehouse on the first verse of the Gospel for the day: “Which of you convinceth me of sin? And if I say the truth, why do ye not believe me?” There was a large congregation, whom I endeavoured to convince of unbelief, by simply proposing the conditions of salvation, as they are laid down in Scripture; and appealing to their own hearts, whether they believed they could be saved on no other terms.

In every one of the six following days, I had some fresh proofs of the absolute necessity of following that wise advice of the Apostle: “Judge nothing before the time; until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts.”

Sat. 17.—We set out for Savannah, and reached it on Tuesday evening. O blessed place, where, having but one end in view, dissembling and fraud are not; but each of us can pour out his heart without fear into his brother’s bosom! Not finding, as yet, any door open for the pursuing our main design, we considered in what manner we might be most useful to the little flock at Savannah. And we agreed, 1. To advise the more serious among them to form themselves into a sort of little society, and to meet once or twice a week, in order to reprove, instruct, and exhort one another. 2. To select out of these a smaller number for a more intimate union with each other, which might be forwarded, partly by our conversing singly with each, and partly by inviting them all together to our house; and this, accordingly, we determined to do every Sunday in the afternoon.

Wed. May 5.—I was asked to baptize a child of Mr. Parker’s, second Bailiff of Savannah; but Mrs. Parker told me, “Neither Mr. P. nor I will consent to its being dipped.” I answered, “If you ‘certify that’ your ‘child is weak, it will suffice’ (the rubric says) ‘to pour water upon it.’” She replied, “Nay, the child is not weak; but I am resolved it shall not be dipped.” This argument I could not confute. So I went home; and the child was baptized by another person. 9.—I began dividing the public prayers, according to the original appointment of the Church: (Still observed in a few places in England:) The morning service began at five; the Communion Office, (with the sermon,) at eleven; the evening service, about three; and this day I began reading prayers in the court-house,—a large and convenient place.

Mon. 10.—I began visiting my parishioners in order, from house to house; for which I set apart (the time when they cannot work, because of the heat, viz.) from twelve till three in the afternoon.

[…]

Thur. 10.—We began to execute at Frederica what we had before agreed to do at Savannah. Our design was, on Sundays in the afternoon, and every evening, after public service, to spend some time with the most serious of the communicants, in singing, reading, and conversation. This evening we had only Mark Hird. But on Sunday Mr. Hird and two more desired to be admitted. After a psalm and a little conversation, I read Mr. Law’s “Christian Perfection,” and concluded with another psalm.

Sat. 12.—Being with one who was very desirous to converse with me, but not upon religion, I spoke to this effect:— “Suppose you was going to a country where every one spoke Latin, and understood no other language, neither would converse with any that did not understand it: Suppose one was sent to stay here a short time, on purpose to teach it you; suppose that person, pleased with your company, should spend his time in trifling with you, and teach you nothing of what he came for: Would that be well done? Yet this is our case. You are going to a country where every one speaks the love of God. The citizens of heaven understand no other language. They converse with none who do not understand it. Indeed none such are admitted there. I am sent from God to teach you this. A few days are allotted us for that purpose. Would it then be well done in me, because I was pleased with your company, to spend this short time in trifling, and teach you nothing of what I came for? God forbid! I will rather not converse with you at all. Of the two extremes, this is the best.”

Wed. 16.—Another little company of us met; Mr. Reed, Davidson, Walker, Delamotte, and myself. We sung, read a little of Mr. Law, and then conversed. Wednesdays and Fridays were the days we fixed for constant meeting.

[…]

Tues. 22.—Observing much coldness in Mr. ------’s behaviour, I asked him the reason of it. He answered, “I like nothing you do. All your sermons are satires upon particular persons, therefore I will never hear you more; and all the people are of my mind, for we won’t hear ourselves abused. Besides, they say they are Protestants. But as for you, they cannot tell what religion you are of. They never heard of such a religion before. They do not know what to make of it. And then your private behaviour:—All the quarrels that have been here since you came, have been ’long of you. Indeed there is neither man nor woman in the town who minds a word you say. And so you may preach long enough; but nobody will come to hear you.”

He was too warm for hearing an answer. So I had nothing to do but to thank him for his openness, and walk away.

Wed. 23.—I had a long conversation with Mr. ------, upon the nature of true religion. I then asked him, why he did not endeavour to recommend it to all with whom he conversed. He said, “I did so once; and for some time, I thought I had done much good by it. But I afterwards found they were never the better, and I myself was the worse. Therefore now, though I always strive to be inoffensive in my conversation, I do not strive to make people religious, unless those that have a desire to be so, and are, consequently, willing to hear me. But I have not yet (I speak not of you or your brother) found one such person in America.”

“He that hath ears to hear, let him hear!” Mark the tendency of this accursed principle! If you will speak only to those who are willing to hear, see how many you will turn from the error of their ways! If, therefore, striving to do good, you have done hurt, what then? So did St. Paul. So did the Lord of life. Even His word was “the savour of death,” as well as “the savour of life.” But shall you, therefore, strive no more? God forbid! Strive more humbly, more calmly, more cautiously. Do not strive as you did before,—but strive while the breath of God is in your nostrils! Being to leave Frederica in the evening, I took the more notice of these words in the Lesson for the day: “Whereunto shall I liken the men of this generation? They are like unto children sitting in the market-place, and saying, We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced; we have mourned to you, and ye have not wept. For John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine; and ye say, He hath a devil. The Son of Man is come eating and drinking; and ye say, Behold a gluttonous man, and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners!” (Luke vii. 31—34.) About eleven at night we took boat; and on Saturday, 26, about one in the afternoon, came to Savannah. O what do we want here, either for life or godliness! If suffering, God will send it in his time.

Sun. 27.—About twenty joined with us in morning prayer. An hour or two after, a large party of Creek Indians came; the expectation of whom deprived us of our place of public worship, in which they were to have their audience.

Wed. 30.—I hoped a door was opened for going up immediately to the Choctaws, the least polished, that is, the least corrupted, of all the Indian nations. But upon my informing Mr. Oglethorpe of our design, he objected, not only the danger of being intercepted, or killed by the French there; but much more, the inexpediency of leaving Savannah destitute of a Minister. These objections I related to our brethren in the evening, who were all of opinion, “We ought not to go yet.”

Thur. July 1.—The Indians had an audience; and another on Saturday, when Chicali, their head man, dined with Mr. Oglethorpe. After dinner, I asked the grey-headed old man, what he thought he was made for. He said, “He that is above knows what he made us for. We know nothing. We are in the dark. But white men know much. And yet white men build great houses, as if they were to live for ever. But white men cannot live for ever. In a little time, white men will be dust as well as I.” I told him, “If red men will learn the good book, they may know as much as white men. But neither we nor you can understand that book, unless we are taught by Him that is above: And He will not teach, unless you avoid what you already know is not good.” He answered, “I believe that. He will not teach us while our hearts are not white. And our men do what they know is not good: They kill their own children. And our women do what they know is not good: They kill the child before it is born. Therefore, He that is above does not send us the good book.” Hearing the younger of the Miss Boveys was not well, I called upon them this evening. I found she had only the prickly heat, a sort of rash, very common here in summer. We soon fell into serious conversation, after I had asked, if they did not think they were too young to trouble themselves with religion yet; and, whether they might not defer it ten or a dozen years. To which one of them replied, “If it will be reasonable ten years hence to be religious, it is so now: I am not for deferring one moment.”

[…]

Tues. 20.—Five of the Chicasaw Indians (twenty of whom had been in Savannah several days) came to see us, with Mr. Andrews, their interpreter. They were all warriors, four of them head men. The two chief were Paustoobee and Mingo Mattaw. Our conference was as follows:— Q. Do you believe there is One above who is over all things? Paustoobee answered, We believe there are four beloved things above;—the clouds, the sun, the clear sky, and He that lives in the clear sky.

Q. Do you believe there is but One that lives in the clear sky? A. We believe there are two with him, three in all. Q. Do you think he made the sun, and the other beloved things?

A. We cannot tell. Who hath seen?

Q. Do you think he made you?

A. We think he made all men at first.

Q. How did he make them at first?

A. Out of the ground.

Q. Do you believe he loves you?

A. I do not know. I cannot see him.

Q. But has he not often saved your life?

A. He has. Many bullets have gone on this side, and many on that side; but he would never let them hurt me. And many bullets have gone into these young men; and yet they are alive. Q. Then, cannot he save you from your enemies now? A. Yes, but we know not if he will. We have now so many enemies round about us, that I think of nothing but death. And if I am to die, I shall die, and I will die like a man. But if he will have me to live, I shall live. Though I had ever so many enemies, he can destroy them all.

Q. How do you know that?

A. From what I have seen. When our enemies came against us before, then the beloved clouds came for us. And often much rain, and sometimes hail, has come upon them; and that in a very hot day. And I saw, when many French, and Choctaws, and other nations came against one of our towns; and the ground made a noise under them, and the beloved ones in the air behind them; and they were afraid, and went away, and left their meat and drink, and their guns. I tell no lie. All these saw it too.

Q. Have you heard such noises at other times?

A. Yes, often; before and after almost every battle. Q. What sort of noises were they?

A. Like the noise of drums, and guns, and shouting. Q. Have you heard any such lately?

A. Yes; four days after our last battle with the French. Q. Then you heard nothing before it?

A. The night before. I dreamed I heard many drums up there; and many trumpets there, and much stamping of feet and shouting. Till then I thought we should all die. But then I thought the beloved ones were come to help us. And the next day I heard above a hundred guns go off before the fight began; and I said, “When the sun is there, the beloved ones will help us; and we shall conquer our enemies.” And we did so.

Q. Do you often think and talk of the beloved ones? A. We think of them always, wherever we are. We talk of them and to them, at home and abroad; in peace, in war, before and after we fight; and, indeed, whenever and wherever we meet together.

Q. Where do you think your souls go after death? A. We believe the souls of red men walk up and down, near the place where they died, or where their bodies lie; for we have often heard cries and noises near the place where any prisoners had been burned.

Q. Where do the souls of white men go after death? A. We cannot tell. We have not seen.

Q. Our belief is, that the souls of bad men only walk up and down; but the souls of good men go up.

A. I believe so too. But I told you the talk of the nation, (Mr. Andrews.—They said at the burying, they knew what you was doing. You was speaking to the beloved ones above, to take up the soul of the young woman.)

Q. We have a book that tells us many things of the beloved ones above; would you be glad to know them?

A. We have no time now but to fight. If we should ever be at peace, we should be glad to know.

Q. Do you expect ever to know what the white men know? (Mr. Andrews.—They told Mr. O., they believed the time will come when the red and white men will be one.) Q. What do the French teach you?

A. The French black kings [so they call the priests] never go out. We see you go about;—we like that;—that is good.

Q. How came your nation by the knowledge they have? A. As soon as ever the ground was sound and fit to stand upon, it came to us, and has been with us ever since. But we are young men; our old men know more: But all of them do not know. There are but a few whom the beloved one chooses from a child, and is in them, and takes care of them, and teaches them: They know these things; and our old men practise; therefore they know. But I do not practise; therefore I know little.

[…]

Sat. 31.—We came to Charlestown. The church is of brick, but plastered over like stone. I believe it would contain three or four thousand persons. About three hundred were present at the Morning Service the next day; (when Mr. Garden desired me to preach;) about fifty at the holy communion. I was glad to see several Negroes at church; one of whom told me, she was there constantly; and that her old mistress (now dead) had many times instructed her in the Christian religion. I asked her, what religion was. She said, she could not tell. I asked, if she knew what a soul was. She answered, “No.” I said, “Do not you know there is something in you different from your body? Something you cannot see or feel?” She replied, “I never heard so much before.” I added, “Do you think, then, a man dies altogether as a horse dies?” She said, “Yes, to be sure.” O God, where are thy tender mercies? Are they not over all thy works? When shall the Sun of Righteousness arise on these outcasts of men, with healing in his wings!

[…]

Tues. Nov. 23.—Mr. Oglethorpe sailed for England, leaving Mr. Ingham, Mr. Delamotte, and me, at Savannah; but with less prospect of preaching to the Indians than we had the first day we set foot in America. Whenever I mentioned it, it was immediately replied, “You cannot leave Savannah without a Minister.” To this indeed my plain answer was, “I know not that I am under any obligation to the contrary. I never promised to stay here one month. I openly declared both before, at, and ever since my coming hither, that I neither would nor could take charge of the English any longer than till I could go among the Indians.” If it was said, “But did not the Trustees of Georgia appoint you to be Minister of Savannah?” I replied, “They did; but it was not done by my solicitation: It was done without either my desire or knowledge. Therefore I cannot conceive that appointment to lay me under any obligation of continuing there any longer than till a door is opened to the Heathens; and this I expressly declared at the time I consented to accept of that appointment.” But though I had no other obligation not to leave Savannah now, yet that of love I could not break through: I could not resist the importunate request of the more serious parishioners, “to watch over their souls yet a little longer, till some one came who might supply my place.” And this I the more willingly did, because the time was not come to preach the Gospel of peace to the Heathens; all their nations being in a ferment; and Paustoobee and Mingo Mattaw having told me, in terms, in my own house, “Now our enemies are all about us, and we can do nothing but fight; but if the beloved ones should ever give us to be at peace, then we would hear the great word.”

[…]

Saturday, 26 [Feb. 1737].—He left Savannah. By Mr. Ingham I writ to Dr. Bray’s associates, who had sent a parochial library to Savannah. It is expected of the Ministers who receive these, to send an account to their benefactors of the method they use in catechising the children and instructing the youth of their respective parishes. That part of the letter was as follows:— “Our general method is this:—A young gentleman, who came with me, teaches between thirty and forty children to read, write, and cast accounts. Before school in the morning, and after school in the afternoon, he catechises the lowest class, and endeavours to fix something of what was said in their understandings as well as their memories. In the evening, he instructs the larger children. On Saturday, in the afternoon, I catechise them all. The same I do on Sunday, before the Evening Service. And in the church, immediately after the Second Lesson, a select number of them having repeated the Catechism, and been examined in some part of it, I endeavour to explain at large, and to enforce that part, both on them and the congregation.

“Some time after the Evening Service, as many of my parishioners as desire it, meet at my house, (as they do also on Wednesday evening,) and spend about an hour in prayer, singing, and mutual exhortation. A smaller number (mostly those who design to communicate the next day) meet here on Saturday evening; and a few of these come to me on the other evenings, and pass half an hour in the same employment.”

[…]

Sun. July 3 [1737].—Immediately after the holy communion, I mentioned to Mrs. Williamson (Mr. Causton’s niece) some things which I thought reprovable in her behaviour. At this she appeared extremely angry; said, she did not expect such usage from me; and at the turn of the street, through which we were walking home, went abruptly away. The next day Mrs. Causton endeavoured to excuse her; told me she was exceedingly grieved for what had passed the day before, and desired me to tell her in writing what I disliked; which I accordingly did the day following.

But first, I sent Mr. Causton the following note:— “Sir,—To this hour you have shown yourself my friend; I ever have and ever shall acknowledge it. And it is my earnest desire, that He who hath hitherto given me this blessing, would continue it still.

“But this cannot be, unless you will allow me one request, which is not so easy an one as it appears: Do not condemn me for doing, in the execution of my office, what I think it my duty to do.

“If you can prevail upon yourself to allow me this, even when I act without respect of persons, I am persuaded there will never be, at least not long, any misunderstanding between us. For even those who seek it, shall, I trust, find no occasion against me, ‘except it be concerning the law of my God.’ “July 5, 1737. I am,” &c.

Wed. 6.—Mr. Causton came to my house, with Mr. Bailiff Parker, and Mr. Recorder, and warmly asked, “How could you possibly think I should condemn you for executing any part of your office?” I said short, “Sir, what if I should think it the duty of my office to repel one of your family from the holy communion?” He replied, “If you repel me or my wife, I shall require a legal reason. But I shall trouble myself about none else. Let them look to themselves.”

[…]

Wed. Aug. 3.—We returned to Savannah. Sunday, 7, I repelled Mrs. Williamson from the holy communion. And Monday, 8, Mr. Recorder, of Savannah, issued out the warrant following:— Georgia. Savannah ss.

“To all Constables, Tithingmen, and others, whom these may concern:

“You, and each of you, are hereby required to take the body of John Wesley, Clerk:

“And bring him before one of the bailiffs of the said town, to answer the complaint of William Williamson and Sophia his wife, for defaming the said Sophia, and refusing to administer to her the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, in a public congregation, without cause; by which the said William Williamson is damaged one thousand pounds sterling: And for so doing, this is your warrant, certifying what you are to do in the premises. Given under my hand and seal the 8th day of August, Anno Dom. 1737. Tho. Christie.”

Tues. 9.—Mr. Jones, the Constable, served the warrant, and carried me before Mr. Bailiff Parker and Mr. Recorder. My answer to them was, that the giving or refusing the Lord’s Supper being a matter purely ecclesiastical, I could not acknowledge their power to interrogate me upon it. Mr. Parker told me, “However, you must appear at the next Court, holden for Savannah.” Mr. Williamson, who stood by, said, “Gentlemen, I desire Mr. Wesley may give bail for his appearance.” But Mr. Parker immediately replied, “Sir, Mr. Wesley’s word is sufficient.”

Wed. 10.—Mr. Causton (from a just regard, as his letter expressed it, to the friendship which had subsisted between us till this affair) required me to give the reasons in the Courthouse, why I repelled Mrs. Williamson from the holy communion. I answered, “I apprehend many ill consequences may arise from so doing: Let the cause be laid before the Trustees.”

[…]

Tues. 16.—Mrs. Williamson swore to and signed an affidavit, insinuating much more than it asserted; but asserting, That Mr. Wesley had many times proposed marriage to her; all which proposals she had rejected. Of this I desired a copy: Mr. Causton replied, “Sir, you may have one from any of the newspapers in America.”

On Thursday or Friday was delivered out a list of twenty-six men, who were to meet, as a Grand Jury, on Monday the 22d. But this list was called in the next day, and twenty-four names added to it. Of this Grand Jury, (forty-four of whom only met.) one was a Frenchman, who did not understand English, one a Papist, one a professed infidel, three Baptists, sixteen or seventeen others Dissenters; and several others who had personal quarrels against me, and had openly vowed revenge.

To this Grand Jury, on Monday the 22d, Mr. Causton gave a long and earnest charge, “to beware of spiritual tyranny, and to oppose the new, illegal authority which was usurped over their consciences.” Then Mrs. Williamson’s affidavit was read; After which, Mr. Causton delivered to the Grand Jury a paper, entitled,— “A list of grievances, presented by the Grand Jury for Savannah this day of August, 1737.”

This the majority of the Grand Jury altered in some particulars, and on Thursday, September 1, delivered it again to the Court, under the form of two presentments, containing ten bills, which were then read to the people.

Herein they asserted, upon oath, “That John Wesley, Clerk, had broken the laws of the realm, contrary to the peace of our Sovereign Lord the King, his crown and dignity, “1. By speaking and writing to Mrs. Williamson, against her husband’s consent.

“2. By repelling her from the holy communion.

“3. By not declaring his adherence to the Church of England.

“4. By dividing the Morning Service on Sundays. “5. By refusing to baptize Mr. Parker’s child, otherwise than by dipping, except the parents would certify it was weak, and not able to bear it.

“6. By repelling William Gough from the holy communion. “7. By refusing to read the Burial Service over the body of Nathaniel Polhill.

“8. By calling himself Ordinary of Savannah.

“9. By refusing to receive William Aglionby as a godfather, only because he was not a communicant.

“10. By refusing Jacob Matthews for the same reason: And baptizing an Indian trader’s child with only two sponsors.” (This, I own, was wrong; for I ought, at all hazards, to have refused baptizing it till he had procured a third.)

[…]

Fri. Sept. 30.—Having ended the Homilies, I began reading Dr. Rogers’s eight sermons to the congregation: Hoping they might be a timely antidote against the poison of infidelity which was now with great industry propagated among us. October 7.—I consulted my friends, whether God did not call me to return to England? The reason for which I left it had now no force; there being no possibility, as yet, of instructing the Indians; neither had I, as yet, found or heard of any Indians on the continent of America who had the least desire of being instructed. And as to Savannah, having never engaged myself, either by word or letter, to stay there a day longer than I should judge convenient, nor ever taken charge of the people any otherwise than as in my passage to the Heathens, I looked upon myself to be fully discharged therefrom, by the vacating of that design. Besides, there was a probability of doing more service to that unhappy people, in England, than I could do in Georgia, by representing, without fear or favour to the Trustees, the real state the colony was in. After deeply considering these things, they were unanimous, “That I ought to go; but not yet.” So I laid the thoughts of it aside for the present: Being persuaded, that when the time was come, God would “make the way plain before my face.”

[…]

Thur. Nov. 3.—I appeared again at the Court, holden on that day; and again at the Court held Tuesday, November 22d. On which day Mr. Causton desired to speak with me. He then read me some affidavits which had been made September 15th last past; in one of which it was affirmed, that I then abused Mr. Causton in his own house, calling him liar, villain, and so on. It was now likewise repeated before several persons, which indeed I had forgot, that I had been reprimanded at the last Court for an enemy to, and hinderer of, the public peace.

I again consulted my friends, who agreed with me, that the time we looked for was now come. And the next morning, calling on Mr. Causton, I told him, I designed to set out for England immediately. I set up an advertisement in the Great Square to the same effect, and quietly prepared for my journey.

Fri. Dec. 2.—I proposed to set out for Carolina about noon, the tide then serving. But about ten, the Magistrates sent for me, and told me, I must not go out of the province; for I had not answered the allegations laid against me. I replied, “I have appeared at six or seven Courts successively, in order to answer them. But I was not suffered so to do, when I desired it time after time.” Then they said, however, I must not go, unless I would give security to answer those allegations at their Court. I asked, “What security?” After consulting together about two hours, the Recorder showed me a kind of bond, engaging me under a penalty of fifty pounds, to appear at their Court when I should be required. He added, “But Mr. Williamson too has desired of us, that you should give bail to answer his action.” I then told him plainly, “Sir, you use me very ill, and so you do the Trustees. I will give neither any bond, nor any bail at all. You know your business, and I know mine.” In the afternoon, the Magistrates published an order, requiring all the officers and centinels to prevent my going out of the province; and forbidding any person to assist me so to do. Being now only a prisoner at large, in a place where I knew by experience, every day would give fresh opportunity to procure evidence of words I never said, and actions I never did; I saw clearly the hour was come for leaving this place: And as soon as Evening Prayers were over, about eight o’clock, the tide then serving, I shook off the dust of my feet, and left Georgia, after having preached the Gospel there (not as I ought, but as I was able) one year, and nearly nine months.

[…]

Sat. Dec. 3.—We came to Purrysburg early in the morning, and endeavoured to procure a guide to Port-Royal. But none being to be had, we set out without one, an hour before sunrise. After walking two or three hours, we met with an old man, who led us into a small path, near which was a line of blazed trees, (that is, marked by cutting off part of the bark,) by following which, he said, we might easily come to Port-Royal in five or six hours. We were four in all; one of whom intended to go to England with me; the other two to settle in Carolina. About eleven we came into a large swamp, where we wandered about till near two. We then found another blaze, and pursued it, till it divided into two: One of these we followed through almost impassable thicket, a mile beyond which it ended. We made through the thicket again, and traced the other blaze till that ended too. It now grew toward sunset; so we sat down, faint and weary, having had no food all day, except a gingerbread cake, which I had taken in my pocket. A third of this we had divided among us at noon; another third we took now; the rest we reserved for the morning; but we had met with no water all the day. Thrusting a stick into the ground, and finding the end of it moist, two of our company fell a digging with their hands, and, at about three feet depth, found water. We thanked God, drank, and were refreshed. The night was sharp; however, there was no complaining among us; but after having commended ourselves to God, we lay down close together, and (I at least) slept till near six in the morning.

Sun. 4.—God renewing our strength, we arose neither faint nor weary, and resolved to make one trial more to find out a path to Port-Royal. We steered due east; but finding neither path nor blaze, and the woods growing thicker and thicker, we judged it would be our best course to return, if we could, by the way we came. The day before, in the thickest part of the woods, I had broke many young trees, I knew not why, as we walked along: These we found a great help in several places, where no path was to be seen; and between one and two God brought us safe to Benjamin Arieu’s house, the old man we left the day before. In the evening I read French prayers to a numerous family, a mile from Arieu’s; one of whom undertook to guide us to Port-Royal. In the morning we set out. About sunset, we asked our guide if he knew where he was; who frankly answered, No. However, we pushed on till, about seven, we came to a plantation, and the next evening (after many difficulties and delays) we landed on Port-Royal Island. Wed. 7.—We walked to Beaufort; where Mr. Jones, (the Minister of Beaufort,) with whom I lodged during my short stay here, gave me a lively idea of the old English hospitality. On Thursday Mr. Delamotte came; with whom, on Friday, the 9th, I took boat for Charles-Town. After a slow passage, by reason of contrary winds, and some conflict (our provisions falling short) with hunger as well as cold, we came thither early in the morning, on Tuesday, the 13th. Here I expected trials of a different kind, and far more dangerous. For contempt and want are easy to be borne: But who can bear respect and abundance?

Wed. 14.—Being desired to read public prayers, I was much refreshed with those glorious promises, contained both in the seventy-second Psalm, and in the First Lesson, the fortieth chapter of Isaiah. Yea, “they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint.” In the afternoon, visiting a dying man, we found him still full of the freshest advices; and busy in settling the affairs of the Czarina, Prince Thamas, and the Ottoman Porte. How natural then is the thought,— Quae cura nitentis Pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos. [Virgil: “The same care for their sleek horses follows them when laid beneath the earth.”—CTS] For if a soul quivering on the verge of life has still leisure for these impertinencies, one might almost believe the same dreams would continue even in the sleep of death!

Fri. 16.—I parted from the last of those friends who came with me into America, Mr. Charles Delamotte, from whom I had been but a few days separate since Oct. 14, 1735.

Sun. 18.—I was seized with a violent flux, which I felt came not before I wanted it. Yet I had strength enough given to preach once more to this careless people; and a few “believed our report.”

Thur. 22.—I took my leave of America, (though, if it please God, not for ever,) going on board the Samuel, Captain Percy, with a young gentleman who had been a few months in Carolina, one of my parishioners of Savannah, and a Frenchman, late of Purrysburg, who was escaped thence with the skin of his teeth.

3. “Who Shall Convert Me?”: From the Voyage Home to Aldersgate (1738)

John Wesley, Journal, 8 January – 24 May 1738 (Works, ed. Thomas Jackson, 3rd ed., 1872, vol. I). Selected dated entries; omissions are marked […]. Text from an OCR of the 1872 scan, cleaned by CTS but not yet collated against the printed page. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.

CTS note: Wesley came home in early 1738 convinced that he lacked saving faith. The Moravian Peter Böhler taught him that faith is “a sure trust and confidence” in Christ, often given in a moment. The account of Wednesday, 24 May 1738, is given in full, divided at Wesley’s own numbered sections. Notes marked “Wesley’s later note” were added by Wesley in later editions of the Journal.

Sun. 8 [Jan. 1738].—In the fulness of my heart, I wrote the following words:— “By the most infallible of proofs, inward feeling, I am convinced, “1. Of unbelief; having no such faith in Christ as will prevent my heart from being troubled; which it could not be, if I believed in God, and rightly believed also in him: “2. Of pride, throughout my life past; inasmuch as I thought I had what I find I have not:

“3. Of gross irrecollection; inasmuch as in a storm I cry to God every moment; in a calm, not:

“4. Of levity and luxuriancy of spirit, recurring whenever the pressure is taken off, and appearing by my speaking words not tending to edify; but most by my manner of speaking of my enemies.

“Lord, save, or I perish! Save me, “1. By such a faith as implies peace in life and in death: “2. By such humility, as may fill my heart from this hour for ever, with a piercing uninterrupted sense. Nihil est quod hactenus feci [“I have done nothing hitherto.”—Edit.]; having evidently built without a foundation: “3. By such a recollection as may cry to thee every moment, especially when all is calm: Give me faith, or I die; give me a lowly spirit; otherwise, mihi non sit suave vivere [“Let life be a burden to me.”—Edit.]. “4. By steadiness, seriousness, σεμνότης, sobriety of spirit; avoiding, as fire, every word that tendeth not to edifying; and never speaking of any who oppose me, or sin against God, without all my own sins set in array before my face.” This morning, after explaining these words of St. Paul, “I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God,” I exhorted my fellow-travellers with all my might, to comply with the apostle’s direction. But “leaving them afterwards to themselves,” the seriousness they showed at first soon vanished away.

[…]

Tues. 24.—We spoke with two ships, outward-bound, from whom we had the welcome news, of our wanting but one hundred and sixty leagues of the Land’s-end. My mind was now full of thought; part of which I writ down as follows:— “I went to America, to convert the Indians; but O! who shall convert me? who, what is he that will deliver me from this evil heart of unbelief? I have a fair summer religion. I can talk well; nay, and believe myself, while no danger is near: But let death look me in the face, and my spirit is troubled. Nor can I say, ‘To die is gain!’

I have a sin of fear, that when I’ve spun My last thread, I shall perish on the shore!

“I think, verily, if the Gospel be true, I am safe: For I not only have given, and do give, all my goods to feed the poor; I not only give my body to be burned, drowned, or whatever God shall appoint for me; but I follow after charity, (though not as I ought, yet as I can,) if haply I may attain it. I now believe the Gospel is true. ‘I show my faith by my works,’ by staking my all upon it. I would do so again and again a thousand times, if the choice were still to make. Whoever sees me, sees I would be a Christian. Therefore ‘are my ways not like other men’s ways.’ Therefore I have been, I am, I am content to be, ‘a by-word, a proverb of reproach.’ But in a storm I think, ‘What if the Gospel be not true? Then thou art of all men most foolish. For what hast thou given thy goods, thy ease, thy friends, thy reputation, thy country, thy life? For what art thou wandering over the face of the earth?—A dream, ‘a cunningly-devised fable!’ O! who will deliver me from this fear of death? What shall I do? Where shall I fly from it? Should I fight against it by thinking, or by not thinking of it? A wise man advised me some time since, ‘Be still, and go on.’ Perhaps this is best, to look upon it as my cross; when it comes, to let it humble me, and quicken all my good resolutions, especially that of praying without ceasing; and at other times, to take no thought about it, but quietly to go on ‘in the work of the Lord.’”

We went on with a small, fair wind, till Thursday in the afternoon; and then sounding, found a whitish sand at seventy-five fathom: But having had no observation for several days, the Captain began to be uneasy, fearing we might either get unawares into the Bristol Channel, or strike in the night on the rocks of Scilly.

Sat. 28.—Was another cloudy day; but about ten in the morning (the wind continuing southerly) the clouds began to fly just contrary to the wind, and, to the surprise of us all, sunk down under the sun, so that at noon we had an exact observation; and by this we found we were as well as we could desire, about eleven leagues south of Scilly.

Sun. 29.—We saw English land once more; which, about noon, appeared to be the Lizard-point. We ran by it with a fair wind; and at noon, the next day, made the west end of the Isle of Wight.

Here the wind turned against us, and in the evening blew fresh, so that we expected (the tide being likewise strong against us) to be driven some leagues backward in the night: But in the morning, to our great surprise, we saw Beachy-head just before us, and found we had gone forwards near forty miles. Toward evening was a calm; but in the night a strong north wind brought us safe into the Downs. The day before, Mr. Whitefield had sailed out, neither of us then knowing any thing of the other. At four in the morning we took boat, and in half an hour landed at Deal: It being Wednesday, February 1, the anniversary festival in Georgia for Mr. Oglethorpe’s landing there.

It is now two years and almost four months since I left my native country, in order to teach the Georgian Indians the nature of Christianity: But what have I learned myself in the mean time? Why, (what I the least of all suspected,) that I who went to America to convert others, was never myself converted to God. [Wesley’s later note: I am not sure of this.] “I am not mad,” though I thus speak; but “I speak the words of truth and soberness;” if haply some of those who still dream may awake, and see, that as I am, so are they. Are they read in philosophy? So was I. In ancient or modern tongues? So was I also. Are they versed in the science of divinity? I too have studied it many years. Can they talk fluently upon spiritual things? The very same could I do. Are they plenteous in alms? Behold, I gave all my goods to feed the poor. Do they give of their labour as well as of their substance? I have laboured more abundantly than they all. Are they willing to suffer for their brethren? I have thrown up my friends, reputation, ease, country; I have put my life in my hand, wandering into strange lands; I have given my body to be devoured by the deep, parched up with heat, consumed by toil and weariness, or whatsoever God should please to bring upon me. But does all this (be it more or less, it matters not) make me acceptable to God? Does all I ever did or can know, say, give, do, or suffer, justify me in his sight? Yea, or the constant use of all the means of grace? (Which, nevertheless is meet, right, and our bounden duty.) Or that I know nothing of myself; that I am, as touching outward, moral righteousness blameless? Or (to come closer yet) the having a rational conviction of all the truths of Christianity? Does all this give me a claim to the holy, heavenly, divine character of a Christian? By no means. If the Oracles of God are true, if we are still to abide by “the law and the testimony;” all these things, though, when ennobled by faith in Christ, [Wesley’s later note: I had even then the faith of a servant, though not that of a son.] they are holy and just and good, yet without it are “dung and dross,” meet only to be purged away by “the fire that never shall be quenched.”

This, then, have I learned in the ends of the earth—That I “am fallen short of the glory of God;” That my whole heart is “altogether corrupt and abominable;” and, consequently, my whole life; (seeing it cannot be, that an “evil tree” should “bring forth good fruit:”) That “alienated” as I am from the life of God,” I am “a child of wrath,” [Wesley’s later note: I believe not.] an heir of hell: That my own works, my own sufferings, my own righteousness, are so far from reconciling me to an offended God, so far from making any atonement for the least of those sins, which “are more in number than the hairs of my head,” that the most specious of them need an atonement themselves, or they cannot abide his righteous judgment; that “having the sentence of death” in my heart, and having nothing in or of myself to plead, I have no hope, but that of being justified freely, “through the redemption that is in Jesus:” I have no hope, but that if I seek I shall find Christ, and “be found in him not having my own righteousness, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith.” (Phil. iii. 9.)

If it be said, that I have faith, (for many such things have I heard, from many miserable comforters,) I answer, So have the devils,—a sort of faith; but still they are strangers to the covenant of promise. So the apostles had even at Cana in Galilee, when Jesus first “manifested forth his glory;” even then they, in a sort, “believed on him;” but they had not then “the faith that overcometh the world.” The faith I want is [Wesley’s later note: The faith of a son.] “a sure trust and confidence in God, that, through the merits of Christ, my sins are forgiven, and I reconciled to the favour of God. I want that faith which St. Paul recommends to all the world, especially in his Epistle to the Romans: That faith which enables every one that hath it to cry out, “I live not; but Christ liveth in me; and the life which I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.” I want that faith which none can have without knowing that he hath it; (though many imagine they have it, who have it not;) for whosoever hath it, is “freed from sin, the whole “body of sin is destroyed” in him: He is freed from fear, “having peace with God through Christ, and rejoicing in hope of the glory of God. And he is freed from doubt, “having the love of God shed abroad in his heart, through the Holy Ghost which is given unto him;” which “Spirit itself beareth witness with his spirit, that he is a child of God.”

[…]

Wednesday, Feb. 1.—After reading prayers and explaining a portion of Scripture to a large company at the inn, I left Deal, and came in the evening to Feversham.

I here read prayers, and explained the Second Lesson to a few of those who were called Christians, but were indeed more savage in their behaviour than the wildest Indians I have yet met with.

Fri. 3.—I came to Mr. Delamotte’s, at Blendon, where I expected a cold reception. But God had prepared the way before me: And I no sooner mentioned my name, than I was welcomed in such a manner, as constrained me to say, “Surely God is in this place, and I knew it not! Blessed be ye of the Lord! Ye have shown more kindness in the latter end than in the beginning.”

In the evening I came once more to London, whence I had been absent two years and near four months.

Many reasons I have to bless God, though the design I went upon did not take effect, for my having been carried into that strange land, contrary to all my preceding resolutions. Hereby I trust He hath in some measure “humbled me and proved me, and shown me what was in my heart.” Hereby I have been taught to “beware of men.” Hereby I am come to know assuredly, that if “in all our ways we acknowledge God,” he will, where reason fails, “direct our path,” by lot or by the other means which he knoweth. Hereby I am delivered from the fear of the sea, which I had both dreaded and abhorred from my youth.

Hereby God has given me to know many of his servants; particularly those of the Church of Hernhuth. Hereby my passage is opened to the writings of holy men in the German, Spanish, and Italian tongues. I hope too some good may come to others hereby. All in Georgia have heard the word of God. Some have believed, and began to run well. A few steps have been taken towards publishing the glad tidings both to the African and American Heathens. Many children have learned “how they ought to serve God,” and to be useful to their neighbour. And those whom it most concerns have an opportunity of knowing the true state of their infant colony, and laying a firmer foundation of peace and happiness to many generations.

Sat. 4.—I told my friends some of the reasons which a little hastened my return to England. They all agreed it would be proper to relate them to the Trustees of Georgia. Accordingly, the next morning I waited on Mr. Oglethorpe, but had not time to speak on that head. In the afternoon I was desired to preach at St. John the Evangelist’s. I did so on those strong words, “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature.” I was afterwards informed, many of the best in the parish were so offended, that I was not to preach there any more. 6.—I visited many of my old friends, as well as most of my relations. I find the time is not yet come when I am to be “hated of all men.” O may I be prepared for that day!

Tues. 7.—(A day much to be remembered.) At the house of Mr. Weinantz, a Dutch merchant, I met Peter Böhler, Schulius, Richter, and Wensel Neiser, just then landed from Germany. Finding they had no acquaintance in England, I offered to procure them a lodging, and did so near Mr. Hutton’s, where I then was. And from this time I did not willingly lose any opportunity of conversing with them, while I stayed in London.

[…]

Fri. 17.—I set out for Oxford with Peter Böhler, where we were kindly received by Mr. Sarney, the only one now remaining here, of many who, at our embarking for America, were used to “take sweet counsel together,” and rejoice in “bearing the reproach of Christ.”

Sat. 18.—We went to Stanton-Harcourt, to Mr. Gambold, and found my old friend recovered from his mystic delusion, and convinced that St. Paul was a better writer than either Tauler or Jacob Behmen.—The next day I preached once more at the Castle (in Oxford) to a numerous and serious congregation. All this time I conversed much with Peter Böhler, but I understood him not; and least of all when he said, Mi frater, mi frater, excoquenda est ista tua philosophia. “My brother, my brother, that philosophy of yours must be purged away.”

[…]

Sat. 4 [March].—I found my brother at Oxford, recovering from his pleurisy; and with him Peter Böhler; by whom (in the hand of the great God) I was, on Sunday, the 5th, clearly convinced of unbelief, of the want of that faith whereby alone we are saved [Wesley’s note: With the full Christian salvation.]. Immediately it struck into my mind, “Leave off preaching. How can you preach to others, who have not faith yourself?” I asked Böhler, whether he thought I should leave it off or not. He answered, “By no means.” I asked, “But what can I preach?” He said, “Preach faith till you have it; and then, because you have it, you will preach faith.”

Accordingly, Monday, 6, I began preaching this new doctrine, though my soul started back from the work. The first person to whom I offered salvation by faith alone, was a prisoner under sentence of death. His name was Clifford. Peter Böhler had many times desired me to speak to him before. But I could not prevail on myself so to do; being still (as I had been many years) a zealous assertor of the impossibility of a death-bed repentance.

[…]

Thur. 23 [March].—I met Peter Böhler again, who now amazed me more and more, by the account he gave of the fruits of living faith,—the holiness and happiness which he affirmed to attend it. The next morning I began the Greek Testament again, resolving to abide by “the law and the testimony;” and being confident, that God would hereby show me, whether this doctrine was of God.

[…]

Sat. 22 [April].—I met Peter Böhler once more. I had now no objection to what he said of the nature of faith; namely, that it is (to use the words of our Church) “a sure trust and confidence which a man hath in God, that through the merits of Christ his sins are forgiven, and he reconciled to the favour of God.” Neither could I deny either the happiness or holiness which he described, as fruits of this living faith. “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God:” And, “He that believeth hath the witness in himself,” fully convinced me of the former: As, “Whatsoever is born of God, doth not commit sin;” and, “Whosoever believeth is born of God,” did of the latter. But I could not comprehend what he spoke of an instantaneous work. I could not understand how this faith should be given in a moment: How a man could at once be thus turned from darkness to light, from sin and misery to righteousness and joy in the Holy Ghost. I searched the Scriptures again, touching this very thing, particularly the Acts of the Apostles; But, to my utter astonishment, found scarce any instances there of other than instantaneous conversions; scarce any so slow as that of St. Paul, who was three days in the pangs of the new birth. I had but one retreat left; namely, “Thus, I grant, God wrought in the first ages of Christianity; but the times are changed. What reason have I to believe he works in the same manner now?” But on Sunday, 23, I was beat out of this retreat too, by the concurring evidence of several living witnesses; who testified, God had thus wrought in themselves; giving them in a moment such a faith in the blood of his Son, as translated them out of darkness into light, out of sin and fear into holiness and happiness. Here ended my disputing. I could now only cry out, “Lord, help thou my unbelief!”

I asked P. Böhler again, whether I ought not to refrain from teaching others. He said, “No; do not hide in the earth the talent God hath given you.” Accordingly, on Tuesday, 25, I spoke clearly and fully at Blendon to Mr. Delamotte’s family, of the nature and fruits of faith. Mr. Broughton and my brother were there. Mr. Broughton’s great objection was, he could never think that I had not faith, who had done and suffered such things. My brother was very angry, and told me, I did not know what mischief I had done by talking thus. And, indeed, it did please God then to kindle a fire, which I trust shall never be extinguished.

On Wednesday, 26, the day fixed for my return to Oxford, I once more waited on the Trustees for Georgia: But, being straitened for time, was obliged to leave the papers for them, which I had designed to give into their own hands. One of these was the instrument whereby they had appointed me Minister of Savannah; which, having no more place in those parts, I thought it not right to keep any longer. P. Böhler walked with me a few miles, and exhorted me not to stop short of the grace of God. At Gerard’s Cross I plainly declared to those whom God gave into my hands, the faith as it is in Jesus: As I did next day to a young man I overtook on the road, and in the evening to our friends at Oxford. A strange doctrine, which some, who did not care to contradict, yet knew not what to make of; but one or two, who were thoroughly bruised by sin, willingly heard, and received it gladly. In the day or two following, I was much confirmed in the “truth that is after godliness,” by hearing the experiences of Mr. Hutchins, of Pembroke College, and Mrs. Fox: Two living witnesses that God can (at least, if he does not always) give that faith whereof cometh salvation in a moment, as lightning falling from heaven.

Mon. May 1.—The return of my brother’s illness obliged me again to hasten to London. In the evening I found him at James Hutton’s, better as to his health than I expected; but strongly averse from what he called “the new faith.” This evening our little society began, which afterwards met in Fetter-Lane. Our fundamental rules were as follow:—In obedience to the command of God by St. James, and by the advice of Peter Böhler, it is agreed by us, 1. That we will meet together once a week to “confess our faults one to another, and pray one for another, that we may be healed.”

2. That the persons so meeting be divided into several bands, or little companies, none of them consisting of fewer than five, or more than ten persons.

3. That every one in order speak as freely, plainly, and concisely as he can, the real state of his heart, with his several temptations and deliverances, since the last time of meeting. 4. That all the bands have a conference at eight every Wednesday evening, begun and ended with singing and prayer. 5. That any who desire to be admitted into this society be asked, “What are your reasons for desiring this? Will you be entirely open; using no kind of reserve? Have you any objection to any of our orders?” (which may then be read.) 6. That when any new member is proposed, every one present speak clearly and freely whatever objection he has to him. 7. That those against whom no reasonable objection appears, be, in order for their trial, formed into one or more distinct bands, and some person agreed on to assist them. 8. That after two months’ trial, if no objection then appear; they may be admitted into the society.

9. That every fourth Saturday be observed as a day of general intercession.

10. That on the Sunday seven-night following be a general love-feast, from seven till ten in the evening. 11. That no particular member be allowed to act in any thing contrary to any order of the society: And that if any persons, after being thrice admonished, do not conform thereto, they be not any longer esteemed as members.

[…]

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday [May 22–24], I had continual sorrow and heaviness in my heart: Something of which I described, in the broken manner I was able, in the following letter to a friend:— “O why is it, that so great, so wise, so holy a God will use such an instrument as me! Lord, ‘let the dead bury their dead!’ But wilt thou send the dead to raise the dead? Yea, thou sendest whom thou wilt send, and showest mercy by whom thou wilt show mercy! Amen! Be it then according to thy will! If thou speak the word, Judas shall cast out devils. “I feel what you say, (though not enough,) for I am under the same condemnation. I see that the whole law of God is holy, just, and good. I know every thought, every temper of my soul, ought to bear God’s image and superscription. But how am I fallen from the glory of God! I feel that ‘I am sold under sin.’ I know, that I too deserve nothing but wrath, being full of all abominations: And having no good thing in me, to atone for them, or to remove the wrath of God. All my works, my righteousness, my prayers, need an atonement for themselves. So that my mouth is stopped. I have nothing to plead. God is holy, I am unholy. God is a consuming fire: I am altogether a sinner, meet to be consumed. “Yet I hear a voice (and is it not the voice of God?) saying, ‘Believe, and thou shalt be saved. He that believeth is passed from death unto life. God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’

“O let no one deceive us by vain words, as if we had already attained this faith! [Wesley’s note: That is, the proper Christian faith.] By its fruits we shall know. Do we already feel ‘peace with God,’ and ‘joy in the Holy Ghost?’ Does ‘his Spirit bear witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God?’ Alas, with mine He does not. Nor, I fear, with yours. O thou Saviour of men, save us from trusting in anything but Thee! Draw us after Thee! Let us be emptied of ourselves, and then fill us with all peace and joy in believing; and let nothing separate us from thy love, in time or in eternity.”

What occurred on Wednesday, 24, I think best to relate at large, after premising what may make it the better understood. Let him that cannot receive it ask of the Father of lights, that He would give more light to him and me.

1. I believe, till I was about ten years old I had not sinned away that “washing of the Holy Ghost” which was given me in baptism; having been strictly educated and carefully taught, that I could only be saved “by universal obedience, by keeping all the commandments of God;” in the meaning of which I was diligently instructed. And those instructions, so far as they respected outward duties and sins, I gladly received, and often thought of. But all that was said to me of inward obedience, or holiness, I neither understood nor remembered. So that I was indeed as ignorant of the true meaning of the Law, as I was of the Gospel of Christ.

2. The next six or seven years were spent at school; where, outward restraints being removed, I was much more negligent than before, even of outward duties, and almost continually guilty of outward sins, which I knew to be such, though they were not scandalous in the eye of the world. However, I still read the Scriptures, and said my prayers, morning and evening. And what I now hoped to be saved by, was, 1. Not being so bad as other people. 2. Having still a kindness for religion. And, 3. Reading the Bible, going to church, and saying my prayers.

3. Being removed to the University for five years, I still said my prayers both in public and in private, and read, with the Scriptures, several other books of religion, especially comments on the New Testament. Yet I had not all this while so much as a notion of inward holiness; nay, went on habitually, and, for the most part, very contentedly, in some or other known sin: Indeed, with some intermission and short struggles, especially before and after the holy communion, which I was obliged to receive thrice a year. I cannot well tell what I hoped to be saved by now, when I was continually sinning against that little light I had; unless by those transient fits of what many Divines taught me to call repentance.

4. When I was about twenty-two, my father pressed me to enter into holy orders. At the same time, the providence of God directing me to Kempis’s “Christian Pattern,” I began to see, that true religion was seated in the heart, and that God’s law extended to all our thoughts as well as words and actions. I was, however, very angry at Kempis, for being too strict; though I read him only in Dean Stanhope’s translation. Yet I had frequently much sensible comfort in reading him, such as I was an utter stranger to before: And meeting likewise with a religious friend, which I never had till now, I began to alter the whole form of my conversation, and to set in earnest upon a new life. I set apart an hour or two a day for religious retirement. I communicated every week. I watched against all sin, whether in word or deed. I began to aim at, and pray for, inward holiness. So that now, “doing so much, and living so good a life,” I doubted not but I was a good Christian.

5. Removing soon after to another College, I executed a resolution which I was before convinced was of the utmost importance,—shaking off at once all my trifling acquaintance. I began to see more and more the value of time. I applied myself closer to study. I watched more carefully against actual sins, I advised others to be religious, according to that scheme of religion by which I modelled my own life. But meeting now with Mr. Law’s “Christian Perfection” and “Serious Call,” although I was much offended at many parts of both, yet they convinced me more than ever of the exceeding height and breadth and depth of the law of God. The light flowed in so mightily upon my soul, that every thing appeared in a new view. I cried to God for help, and resolved not to prolong the time of obeying Him as I had never done before. And by my continued endeavour to keep His whole law, inward and outward, to the utmost of my power, I was persuaded that I should be accepted of Him, and that I was even then in a state of salvation.

6. In 1730 I began visiting the prisons; assisting the poor and sick in town; and doing what other good I could, by my presence, or my little fortune, to the bodies and souls of all men. To this end I abridged myself of all superfluities, and many that are called necessaries of life. I soon became a by-word for so doing, and I rejoiced that my name was cast out as evil. The next spring I began observing the Wednesday and Friday Fasts, commonly observed in the ancient Church; tasting no food till three in the afternoon. And now I knew not how to go any farther. I diligently strove against all sin. I omitted no sort of self-denial which I thought lawful: I carefully used, both in public and in private, all the means of grace at all opportunities. I omitted no occasion of doing good; I for that reason suffered evil. And all this I knew to be nothing, unless as it was directed toward inward holiness. Accordingly this, the image of God, was what I aimed at in all, by doing his will, not my own. Yet when, after continuing some years in this course, I apprehended myself to be near death, I could not find that all this gave me any comfort, or any assurance of acceptance with God. At this I was then not a little surprised; not imagining I had been all this time building on the sand, nor considering that “other foundation can no man lay, than that which is laid” by God, “even Christ Jesus.”

7. Soon after, a contemplative man convinced me still more than I was convinced before, that outward works are nothing, being alone; and in several conversations instructed me, how to pursue inward holiness, or a union of the soul with God. But even of his instructions (though I then received them as the words of God) I cannot but now observe, 1. That he spoke so incautiously against trusting in outward works, that he discouraged me from doing them at all. 2. That he recommended (as it were, to supply what was wanting in them) mental prayer, and the like exercises, as the most effectual means of purifying the soul, and uniting it with God. Now these were, in truth, as much my own works as visiting the sick or clothing the naked; and the union with God thus pursued, was as really my own righteousness, as any I had before pursued under another name.

8. In this refined way of trusting to my own works and my own righteousness, (so zealously inculcated by the mystic writers,) I dragged on heavily, finding no comfort or help therein, till the time of my leaving England. On shipboard, however, I was again active in outward works; where it pleased God of his free mercy to give me twenty-six of the Moravian brethren for companions, who endeavoured to show me “a more excellent way.” But I understood it not at first. I was too learned and too wise. So that it seemed foolishness unto me. And I continued preaching, and following after, and trusting in, that righteousness whereby no flesh can be justified.

9. All the time I was at Savannah I was thus beating the air. Being ignorant of the righteousness of Christ, which, by a living faith in Him, bringeth salvation to every one that believeth,” I sought to establish my own righteousness; and so laboured in the fire all my days. I was now properly under the law;” I knew that the law” of God was “spiritual; I consented to it that it was good.’ Yea, “I delighted in it, after the inner man. Yet was I “carnal, sold under sin. Every day was I constrained to cry out, “What I do, I allow not; For what I would, I do not; but what I hate, that I do. To will is” indeed “present with me: But how to perform that which is good, I find not. For the good which I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do. I find a law, that when I would do good, evil is present with me;” Even “the law in my members, warring against the law of my mind,” and still “bringing me into captivity to the law of sin.”

10. In this vile, abject state of bondage to sin, I was indeed fighting continually, but not conquering. Before, I had willingly served sin; now it was unwillingly; but still I served it. I fell, and rose, and fell again. Sometimes I was overcome, and in heaviness: Sometimes I overcame, and was in joy. For as in the former state I had some foretastes of the terrors of the law, so had I in this, of the comforts of the Gospel. During this whole struggle between nature and grace, which had now continued above ten years, I had many remarkable returns to prayer; especially when I was in trouble: I had many sensible comforts; which are indeed no other than short anticipations of the life of faith. But I was still “under the law,” not “under grace:” (The state most who are called Christians are content to live and die in:) For I was only striving with, not freed from, sin. Neither had I the witness of the Spirit with my spirit, and indeed could not; for I “sought it not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law.”

11. In my return to England, January, 1738, being in imminent danger of death, and very uneasy on that account, I was strongly convinced that the cause of that uneasiness was unbelief; and that the gaining a true, living faith was the “one thing needful” for me. But still I fixed not this faith on its right object; I meant only faith in God, not faith in or through Christ. Again, I knew not that I was wholly void of this faith; but only thought, I had not enough of it. So that when Peter Böhler, whom God prepared for me as soon as I came to London, affirmed of true faith in Christ, (which is but one,) that it had those two fruits inseparably attending it, “Dominion over sin, and constant Peace from a sense of forgiveness,” I was quite amazed, and looked upon it as a new Gospel. If this was so, it was clear I had not faith. But I was not willing to be convinced of this. Therefore, I disputed with all my might, and laboured to prove that faith might be where these were not; especially where the sense of forgiveness was not: For all the Scriptures relating to this I had been long since taught to construe away; and to call all Presbyterians who spoke otherwise. Besides, I well saw, no one could, in the nature of things, have such a sense of forgiveness, and not feel it. But I felt it not. If then there was no faith without this, all my pretensions to faith dropped at once.

12. When I met Peter Böhler again, he consented to put the dispute upon the issue which I desired, namely, Scripture and experience. I first consulted the Scripture. But when I set aside the glosses of men, and simply considered the words of God, comparing them together, endeavouring to illustrate the obscure by the plainer passages; I found they all made against me, and was forced to retreat to my last hold, “that experience would never agree with the literal interpretation of those scriptures. Nor could I therefore allow it to be true, till I found some living witnesses of it.” He replied, he could show me such at any time; if I desired it, the next day. And accordingly, the next day he came again with three others, all of whom testified, of their own personal experience, that a true living faith in Christ is inseparable from a sense of pardon for all past, and freedom from all present, sins. They added with one mouth, that this faith was the gift, the free gift of God; and that he would surely bestow it upon every soul who earnestly and perseveringly sought it. I was now throughly convinced; and, by the grace of God, I resolved to seek it unto the end, 1. By absolutely renouncing all dependence, in whole or in part, upon my own works or righteousness; on which I had really grounded my hope of salvation, though I knew it not, from my youth up. 2. By adding to the constant use of all the other means of grace, continual prayer for this very thing, justifying, saving faith, a full reliance on the blood of Christ shed for me; a trust in Him, as my Christ, as my sole justification, sanctification, and redemption.

13. I continued thus to seek it, (though with strange indifference, dulness, and coldness, and unusually frequent relapses into sin,) till Wednesday, May 24. I think it was about five this morning, that I opened my Testament on those words, Τὰ μέγιστα ἡμῖν καὶ τίμια ἐπαγγέλματα δεδώρηται, ἵνα γένησθε θείας κοινωνοὶ φύσεως. “There are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises, even that ye should be partakers of the divine nature.” (2 Pet. i. 4.) Just as I went out, I opened it again on those words, “Thou art not far from the kingdom of God.” In the afternoon I was asked to go to St. Paul’s. The anthem was, “Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord: Lord, hear my voice. O let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint. If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss, O Lord, who may abide it? For there is mercy with thee; therefore shalt thou be feared. O Israel, trust in the Lord: For with the Lord there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption. And He shall redeem Israel from all his sins.”

14. In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate-Street, where one was reading Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation: And an assurance was given me, that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.

15. I began to pray with all my might for those who had in a more especial manner despitefully used me and persecuted me. I then testified openly to all there, what I now first felt in my heart. But it was not long before the enemy suggested, “This cannot be faith; for where is thy joy?” Then was I taught, that peace and victory over sin are essential to faith in the Captain of our salvation; But that, as to the transports of joy that usually attend the beginning of it, especially in those who have mourned deeply, God sometimes giveth, sometimes withholdeth them, according to the counsels of his own will.

16. After my return home, I was much buffeted with temptations; but cried out, and they fled away. They returned again and again. I as often lifted up my eyes, and He “sent me help from his holy place.” And herein I found the difference between this and my former state chiefly consisted. I was striving, yea, fighting with all my might under the law, as well as under grace. But then I was sometimes, if not often, conquered; now, I was always conqueror.

4. Preaching in the Fields: Bristol (Spring 1739)

John Wesley, Journal, 29 March – 11 June 1739 (Works, ed. Thomas Jackson, 3rd ed., 1872, vol. I). Selected dated entries; omissions are marked […]. Text from an OCR of the 1872 scan, cleaned by CTS but not yet collated against the printed page. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.

CTS note: At George Whitefield’s urging, Wesley began preaching in the open air near Bristol in April 1739. Kingswood was a coal-mining district; Newgate was the Bristol prison; Baptist-Mills, Hannam-Mount and Rose-Green were open grounds near the city. The room begun in the Horse Fair became the “New Room,” the first Methodist preaching-house. The letter at the end of the chapter contains Wesley’s words, “I look upon all the world as my parish.”

Thur. 29 [March 1739].—I left London, and in the evening expounded to a small company at Basingstoke. Saturday, 31. In the evening I reached Bristol, and met Mr. Whitefield there. I could scarce reconcile myself at first to this strange way of preaching in the fields, of which he set me an example on Sunday; having been all my life (till very lately) so tenacious of every point relating to decency and order, that I should have thought the saving of souls almost a sin, if it had not been done in a church.

April 1.—In the evening (Mr. Whitefield being gone) I begun expounding our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, (one pretty remarkable precedent of field-preaching, though I suppose there were churches at that time also,) to a little society which was accustomed to meet once or twice a week in Nicholas-Street.

Mon. 2.—At four in the afternoon, I submitted to be more vile, and proclaimed in the highways the glad tidings of salvation, speaking from a little eminence in a ground adjoining to the city, to about three thousand people. The scripture on which I spoke was this, (is it possible any one should be ignorant, that it is fulfilled in every true Minister of Christ?) “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the Gospel to the poor. He hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted; to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind: To set at liberty them that are bruised, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” At seven I began expounding the Acts of the Apostles, to a society meeting in Baldwin-Street; and the next day the Gospel of St. John in the chapel at Newgate; where I also daily read the Morning Service of the Church.

Wed. 4.—At Baptist-Mills, (a sort of a suburb or village about half a mile from Bristol,) I offered the grace of God to about fifteen hundred persons from these words, “I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely.”

In the evening three women agreed to meet together weekly, with the same intention as those at London, viz., “To confess their faults one to another, and pray one for another, that they may be healed.” At eight, four young men agreed to meet, in pursuance of the same design. How dare any man deny this to be (as to the substance of it) a means of grace, ordained by God? Unless he will affirm (with Luther in the fury of his Solifidianism) that St. James’s Epistle is an epistle of straw.

Thur. 5.—At five in the evening I began at a society in Castle-Street, expounding the Epistle to the Romans; and the next evening at a society in Gloucester-Lane, the first Epistle of St. John. On Saturday evening, at Weaver’s Hall, also, I begun expounding the Epistle to the Romans; and declared that Gospel to all, which is the “power of God unto salvation, to every one that believeth.”

Sun. 8.—At seven in the morning I preached to about a thousand persons at Bristol, and afterwards to about fifteen hundred on the top of Hannam-Mount in Kingswood. I called to them in the words of the Evangelical Prophet, “Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; come and buy wine and milk, without money, and without price.” About five thousand were in the afternoon at Rose-Green; (on the other side of Kingswood;) among whom I stood and cried, in the name of the Lord, “If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. He that believeth on me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.”

Tues. 10.—I was desired to go to Bath; where I offered to about a thousand souls the free grace of God to “heal their backsliding;” and in the morning to (I believe) more than two thousand. I preached to about the same number at Baptist-Mills in the afternoon, on, “Christ, made of God unto us, wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption.”

Sat. 14.—I preached at the poor-house; three or four hundred were within, and more than twice that number without: To whom I explained those comfortable words, “When they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both.”

Sun. 15.—I explained at seven to five or six thousand persons the story of the Pharisee and the Publican. About three thousand were present at Hannam-Mount. I preached at Newgate after dinner to a crowded congregation. Between five and six we went to Rose-Green: It rained hard at Bristol, but not a drop fell upon us, while I declared to about five thousand, “Christ, our wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption.” I concluded the day by showing at the society in Baldwin-Street, that “his blood cleanseth us from all sin.”

Tues. 17.—At five in the afternoon I was at a little society in the Back-Lane. The room in which we were was propped beneath, but the weight of people made the floor give way; so that in the beginning of the expounding, the post which propped it fell down with a great noise. But the floor sunk no further; so that, after a little surprise at first, they quietly attended to the things that were spoken. Thence I went to Baldwin-Street, and expounded, as it came in course, the fourth chapter of the Acts. We then called upon God to confirm his word. Immediately one that stood by (to our no small surprise) cried out aloud, with the utmost vehemence, even as in the agonies of death. But we continued in prayer, till “a new song was put in her mouth, a thanksgiving unto our God.” Soon after, two other persons (well known in this place, as labouring to live in all good conscience towards all men) were seized with strong pain, and constrained to “roar for the disquietness of their heart.” But it was not long before they likewise burst forth into praise to God their Saviour. The last who called upon God as out of the belly of hell, was I— E —, a stranger in Bristol. And in a short space he also was overwhelmed with joy and love, knowing that God had healed his backslidings. So many living witnesses hath God given that his hand is still “stretched out to heal,” and that “signs and wonders are even now wrought by his holy child Jesus.” Wed. 18.—In the evening L—a S ------, (late a Quaker, but baptized the day before,) R - a M ------, and a few others, were admitted into the society. But R—a M ------was scarcely able either to speak or look up. “The sorrows of death compassed” her “about, the pains of hell got hold upon” her. We poured out our complaints before God, and showed him of her trouble. And he soon showed, he is a God “that heareth prayer.” She felt in herself, that, “being justified freely, she had peace with God, through Jesus Christ.” She “rejoiced in hope of the glory of God,” and “the love of God was shed abroad in her heart.”

[…]

Thur. 26 [April].—While I was preaching at Newgate, on these words, “He that believeth hath everlasting life,” I was insensibly led, without any previous design, to declare strongly and explicitly, that God willeth “all men to be” thus “saved;” and to pray, that, “if this were not the truth of God, he would not suffer the blind to go out of the way; but, if it were, he would bear witness to his word.” Immediately one, and another, and another sunk to the earth: They dropped on every side as thunderstruck. One of them cried aloud. We besought God in her behalf, and he turned her heaviness into joy. A second being in the same agony, we called upon God for her also; and he spoke peace unto her soul. In the evening I was again pressed in spirit to declare, that “Christ gave himself a ransom for all.” And almost before we called upon him to set to his seal, he answered. One was so wounded by the sword of the Spirit, that you would have imagined she could not live a moment. But immediately his abundant kindness was showed, and she loudly sang of his righteousness.

Fri. 27.—All Newgate rang with the cries of those whom the word of God cut to the heart. Two of whom were in a moment filled with joy, to the astonishment of those that beheld them.

Sun. 29.—I declared the free grace of God to about four thousand people, from those words, “He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?” At that hour it was, that one who had long continued in sin, from a despair of finding mercy, received a full, clear sense of his pardoning love, and power to sin no more. I then went to Clifton, a mile from Bristol, at the Minister’s desire, who was dangerously ill, and thence returned to a little plain, near Hannam-Mount, where about three thousand were present. After dinner I went to Clifton again. The church was quite full at the prayers and sermon, as was the church-yard at the burial which followed. From Clifton we went to Rose-Green, where were, by computation, near seven thousand, and thence to Gloucester-Lane society. After which was our first love-feast in Baldwin-Street. O how has God renewed my strength! who used ten years ago to be so faint and weary with preaching twice in one day!

Mon. 30.—We understood that many were offended at the cries of those on whom the power of God came: Among whom was a physician, who was much afraid, there might be fraud or imposture in the case. To-day one whom he had known many years, was the first (while I was preaching in Newgate) who broke out “into strong cries and tears.” He could hardly believe his own eyes and ears. He went and stood close to her, and observed every symptom, till great drops of sweat ran down her face, and all her bones shook. He then knew not what to think, being clearly convinced, it was not fraud, nor yet any natural disorder. But when both her soul and body were healed in a moment, he acknowledged the finger of God.

Tues. May 1.—Many were offended again, and, indeed, much more than before. For at Baldwin-Street my voice could scarce be heard amidst the groanings of some, and the cries of others, calling aloud to Him that is “mighty to save.” I desired all that were sincere of heart to beseech with me the Prince exalted for us, that he would “proclaim deliverance to the captives.” And he soon showed that he heard our voice. Many of those who had been long in darkness, saw the dawn of a great light; and ten persons, I afterwards found, then began to say in faith, “My Lord and my God.”

A Quaker, who stood by, was not a little displeased at the dissimulation of those creatures, and was biting his lips and knitting his brows, when he dropped down as thunderstruck. The agony he was in was even terrible to behold. We besought God not to lay folly to his charge. And he soon lifted up his head, and cried aloud, “Now I know thou art a prophet of the Lord.”

Wed. 2.—At Newgate another mourner was comforted. I was desired to step thence to a neighbouring house, to see a letter wrote against me, as a “deceiver of the people,” by teaching that God “willeth all men to be saved.” One who long had asserted the contrary was there, when a young woman came in (who could say before, “I know that my Redeemer liveth”) all in tears, and in deep anguish of spirit. She said, she had been reasoning with herself, how these things could be, till she was perplexed more and more; and she now found the Spirit of God was departed from her. We began to pray and she cried out, “He is come! He is come! I again rejoice in God my Saviour.” Just as we rose from giving thanks, another person reeled four or five steps, and then dropped down. We prayed with her, and left her strongly convinced of sin, and earnestly groaning for deliverance. I did not mention one J -----n H ------n, a weaver, who was at Baldwin-Street the night before. He was (I understood) a man of a regular life and conversation, one that constantly attended the public prayers and sacrament, and was zealous for the Church, and against Dissenters of every denomination. Being informed that people fell into strange fits at the societies, he came to see and judge for himself. But he was less satisfied than before; insomuch that he went about to his acquaintance, one after another, till one in the morning, and laboured above measure to convince them it was a delusion of the devil. We were going home, when one met us in the street, and informed us, that J—n H ------was fallen raving mad. It seems he had sat down to dinner, but had a mind first to end a sermon he had borrowed on “Salvation by Faith.” In reading the last page, he changed colour, fell off his chair, and began screaming terribly, and beating himself against the ground. The neighbours were alarmed, and flocked together to the house. Between one and two I came in, and found him on the floor, the room being full of people, whom his wife would have kept without; but he cried aloud, “No; let them all come; let all the world see the just judgment of God.” Two or three men were holding him as well as they could. He immediately fixed his eyes upon me and, stretching out his hand, cried, “Ay, this is he, who I said was a deceiver of the people. But God has overtaken me. I said, it was all a delusion; but this is no delusion.” He then roared out, “O thou devil! Thou cursed devil! Yea thou legion of devils! Thou canst not stay. Christ will cast thee out. I know his work is begun. Tear me to pieces, if thou wilt; but thou canst not hurt me.” He then beat himself against the ground again; his breast heaving at the same time, as in the pangs of death, and great drops of sweat trickling down his face. We all betook ourselves to prayer. His pangs ceased, and both his body and soul were set at liberty. Thence I went to Baptist-Mills, and declared Him whom God “hath exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance unto Israel and remission of sins.” Returning to J—n H——, we found his voice was lost, and his body weak as that of an infant. But his soul was in peace, full of love, and “rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.”

The women of our society met at seven. During our prayer, one of them fell into a violent agony; but soon after began to cry out, with confidence, “My Lord and my God!” Saturday, 5. I preached, at the desire of an unknown correspondent, on those excellent words, (if well understood as recommending faith, resignation, patience, meekness,) “Be still, and know that I am God.”

[…]

Wed. 9 [May].—We took possession of a piece of ground, near St. James’s church-yard, in the Horse Fair, where it was designed to build a room, large enough to contain both the societies of Nicholas and Baldwin-Street, and such of their acquaintance as might desire to be present with them, at such times as the Scripture was expounded. And on Saturday, 12, the first stone was laid, with the voice of praise and thanksgiving. I had not at first the least apprehension or design of being personally engaged, either in the expense of this work, or in the direction of it: Having appointed eleven feoffees, on whom I supposed these burdens would fall of course. But I quickly found my mistake; first with regard to the expense: For the whole undertaking must have stood still, had not I immediately taken upon myself the payment of all the workmen; so that before I knew where I was, I had contracted a debt of more than a hundred and fifty pounds. And this I was to discharge how I could; the subscriptions of both societies not amounting to one quarter of the sum. And as to the direction of the work, I presently received letters from my friends in London, Mr. Whitefield in particular, backed with a message by one just come from thence, that neither he nor they would have any thing to do with the building, neither contribute any thing towards it, unless I would instantly discharge all feoffees, and do every thing in my own name. Many reasons they gave for this; but one was enough, viz., “that such feoffees always would have it in their power to control me; and if I preached not as they liked, to turn me out of the room I had built.” I accordingly yielded to their advice, and calling all the feoffees together, cancelled (no man opposing) the instrument made before, and took the whole management into my own hands. Money, it is true, I had not, nor any human prospect or probability of procuring it: But I knew “the earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof;” and in his name set out, nothing doubting. In the evening, while I was declaring that “Jesus Christ had given himself a ransom for all,” three persons, almost at once, sunk down as dead, having all their sins set in array before them. But in a short time they were raised up, and knew that “the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world,” had taken away their sins.

[…]

Sun. 20 [May].—Seeing many of the rich at Clifton church, my heart was much pained for them, and I was earnestly desirous that some even of them might “enter into the kingdom of heaven.” But full as I was, I knew not where to begin in warning them to flee from the wrath to come, till my Testament opened on these words: “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance:” In applying which, my soul was so enlarged, that methought I could have cried out, (in another sense than poor vain Archimedes,) “Give me where to stand, and I will shake the earth.” God’s sending forth lightning with the rain, did not hinder about fifteen hundred from staying at Rose-Green. Our scripture was, “It is the glorious God that maketh the thunder. The voice of the Lord is mighty in operation; the voice of the Lord is a glorious voice.” In the evening He spoke to three whose souls were all storm and tempest, and immediately there was a great calm.

During this whole time I was almost continually asked, either by those who purposely came to Bristol to inquire concerning this strange work, or by my old or new correspondents, “How can these things be?” And innumerable cautions were given me, (generally grounded on gross misrepresentations of things,) not to regard visions or dreams, or to fancy people had remission of sins because of their cries, or tears, or bare outward professions. To one who had many times wrote to me on this head, the sum of my answer was as follows:— “The question between us turns chiefly, if not wholly, on matter of fact. You deny that God does now work these effects: At least, that he works them in this manner. I affirm both; because I have heard these things with my own ears, and have seen them with my eyes. I have seen (as far as a thing of this kind can be seen) very many persons changed in a moment from the spirit of fear, horror, despair, to the spirit of love, joy, and peace; and from sinful desire, till then reigning over them to a pure desire of doing the will of God. These are matters of fact, whereof I have been, and almost daily am, an eye or ear witness. What I have to say touching visions or dreams, is this: I know several persons in whom this great change was wrought in a dream, or during a strong representation to the eye of their mind, of Christ either on the cross, or in glory. This is the fact; let any judge of it as they please. And that such a change was then wrought, appears (not from their shedding tears only, or falling into fits, or crying out: These are not the fruits, as you seem to suppose, whereby I judge, but) from the whole tenor of their life, till then, many ways wicked; from that time, holy, just, and good.

“I will show you him that was a lion till then, and is now a lamb; him that was a drunkard, and is now exemplarily sober; the whoremonger that was, who now abhors the very ‘garment spotted by the flesh.’ These are my living arguments for what I assert, viz., ‘That God does now, as aforetime, give remission of sins,’ and the gift of the Holy Ghost, even to us and to our children; yea, and that always suddenly, as far as I have known, and often in dreams or in the visions of God.’ If it be not so, I am found a false witness before God. For these things I do, and by his grace will, testify.”

Perhaps it might be because of the hardness of our hearts, unready to receive any thing unless we see it with our eyes and hear it with our ears, that God, in tender condescension to our weakness, suffered so many outward signs of the very time when he wrought this inward change to be continually seen and heard among us. But although they saw “signs and wonders,” (for so I must term them,) yet many would not believe. They could not indeed deny the facts; but they could explain them away. Some said, “These were purely natural effects; the people fainted away only because of the heat and closeness of the rooms.” And others were “sure it was all a cheat; They might help it if they would. Else why were these things only in their private societies: Why were they not done in the face of the sun?” To-day, Monday, 21, our Lord answered for himself. For while I was enforcing these words, “Be still, and know that I am God,” He began to make bare his arm, not in a close room, neither in private, but in the open air, and before more than two thousand witnesses. One, and another, and another was struck to the earth; exceedingly trembling at the presence of His power. Others cried, with a loud and bitter cry, “What must we do to be saved?” And in less than an hour seven persons, wholly unknown to me till that time, were rejoicing and singing, and with all their might giving thanks to the God of their salvation.

In the evening I was interrupted at Nicholas-Street, almost as soon as I had begun to speak, by the cries of one who was “pricked at the heart,” and strongly groaned for pardon and peace. Yet I went on to declare what God had already done, in proof of that important truth, that he is “not willing any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.” Another person dropped down, close to one who was a strong assertor of the contrary doctrine. While he stood astonished at the sight, a little boy near him was seized in the same manner. A young man who stood up behind fixed his eyes on him, and sunk down himself as one dead; but soon began to roar out, and beat himself against the ground, so that six men could scarcely hold him. His name was Thomas Maxfield. Except J—n H——n, I never saw one so torn of the evil one. Meanwhile many others began to cry out to the “Saviour of all,” that he would come and help them, insomuch that all the house (and indeed all the street for some space) was in an uproar. But we continued in prayer; and before ten the greater part found rest to their souls.

I was called from supper to one who, feeling in herself such a conviction as she never had known before, had run out of the society in all haste that she might not expose herself. But the hand of God followed her still; so that, after going a few steps, she was forced to be carried home; and, when she was there, grew worse and worse. She was in a violent agony when we came. We called upon God, and her soul found rest. About twelve I was greatly importuned to go and visit one person more. She had only one struggle after I came, and was then filled with peace and joy. I think twenty-nine in all had their heaviness turned into joy this day.

[…]

Sun. June 3.—In the morning, to about six thousand persons, in concluding the thirteenth chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians, I described a truly charitable man. At Hannam-Mount I enforced these words: “That every mouth may be stopped, and all the world become guilty before God:” And again in the afternoon, at Rose-Green, to I believe eight or nine thousand. In the evening, not being permitted to meet in Baldwin-Street, we met in the shell of our new society-room. The scripture which came in course to be explained was, “Marvel not if the world hate you.” We sung. Arm of the Lord, awake, awake!

Thine own immortal strength put on!

“And God, even our own God,” gave us his blessing.

Mon. 4.—Many came to me and earnestly advised me not to preach abroad in the afternoon, because there was a combination of several persons, who threatened terrible things. This report being spread abroad, brought many thither of the better sort of people; (so called;) and added, I believe, more than a thousand to the ordinary congregation. The scripture to which, not my choice, but the providence of God, directed me, was, “Fear not thou, for I am with thee: Be not dismayed, for I am thy God. I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” The power of God came with his word: So that none scoffed, or interrupted, or opened his mouth.

Tues. 5.—There was great expectation at Bath of what a noted man was to do to me there; and I was much entreated not to preach; because no one knew what might happen. By this report I also gained a much larger audience, among whom were many of the rich and great. I told them plainly, the Scripture had concluded them all under sin;—high and low, rich and poor, one with another. Many of them seemed to be a little surprised, and were sinking apace into seriousness, when their champion appeared, and coming close to me, asked by what authority I did these things. I replied, “By the authority of Jesus Christ, conveyed to me by the (now) Archbishop of Canterbury, when he laid hands upon me, and said, ‘Take thou authority to preach the Gospel.’” He said, “This is contrary to Act of Parliament: This is a conventicle.” I answered, “Sir, the conventicles mentioned in that Act (as the preamble shows) are seditious meetings: But this is not such; here is no shadow of sedition; therefore it is not contrary to that Act.” He replied, “I say it is: And, beside, your preaching frightens people out of their wits.” “Sir, did you ever hear me preach?” “No.” “How then can you judge of what you never heard?” “Sir, by common report.” “Common report is not enough. Give me leave, Sir, to ask, Is not your name Nash?” “My name is Nash.” “Sir, I dare not judge of you by common report: I think it not enough to judge by.” Here he paused awhile, and, having recovered himself, said, “I desire to know what this people comes here for:” On which one replied, “Sir, leave him to me: Let an old woman answer him. You, Mr. Nash, take care of your body; we take care of our souls; and for the food of our souls we come here.” He replied not a word, but walked away.

As I returned, the street was full of people, hurrying to and fro, and speaking great words. But when any of them asked, “Which is he?” and I replied, “I am he,” they were immediately silent. Several ladies following me into Mr. Merchant’s house, the servant told me there were some wanted to speak to me. I went to them, and said, “I believe, ladies, the maid mistook; you only wanted to look at me.” I added, “I do not expect that the rich and great should want either to speak with me, or to hear me; for I speak the plain truth;—a thing you hear little of, and do not desire to hear.” A few more words passed between us, and I retired. 7.—I preached at Priest-Down, on, “What must we do to be saved?” In the midst of the prayer after sermon, two men (hired, as we afterwards understood, for that purpose) began singing a ballad. After a few mild words (for I saw some that were angry,) used without effect, we all began singing a psalm, which put them utterly to silence. We then poured out our souls in prayer for them, and they appeared altogether confounded. O may this be a day much to be remembered by them, for the loving-kindness of the Lord.

Mon. 11.—I received a pressing letter from London, (as I had several others before,) to come thither as soon as possible; our brethren in Fetter-Lane being in great confusion for want of my presence and advice. I therefore preached in the afternoon, on these words: “I take you to record this day, that I am pure from the blood of all men; for I have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of God.” After sermon I commended them to the grace of God, in whom they had believed. Surely God hath yet a work to do in this place. I have not found such love, no, not in England; nor so child-like, artless, teachable a temper, as He hath given to this people. Yet during this whole time, I had many thoughts concerning the unusual manner of my ministering among them. But after frequently laying it before the Lord, and calmly weighing whatever objections I heard against it, I could not but adhere to what I had some time since wrote to a friend, who had freely spoken his sentiments concerning it. An extract of that letter I here subjoin; that the matter may be placed in a clear light. “Dear Sir, “The best return I can make for the kind freedom you use, is to use the same to you. O may the God whom we serve sanctify it to us both, and teach us the whole truth as it is in Jesus!

“You say, you cannot reconcile some parts of my behaviour with the character I have long supported. No, nor ever will. Therefore I have disclaimed that character on every possible occasion. I told all in our ship, all at Savannah, all at Frederica, and that over and over, in express terms, ‘I am not a Christian; I only follow after, if haply I may attain it.’ When they urged my works and self-denial, I answered short, ‘Though I give all my goods to feed the poor, and my body to be burned, I am nothing: For I have not charity; I do not love God with all my heart.’ If they added, ‘Nay, but you could not preach as you do, if you was not a Christian;’ I again confronted them with St. Paul: ‘Though I speak with the tongue of men and angels, and have not charity, I am nothing.’ Most earnestly, therefore, both in public and private, did I inculcate this: ‘Be not ye shaken, however I may fall, for the foundation standeth sure.’

“If you ask on what principle, then, I acted; it was this; ‘A desire to be a Christian; and a conviction that whatever I judge conducive thereto, that I am bound to do; wherever I judge I can best answer this end, thither it is my duty to go.’ On this principle I set out for America; on this, I visited the Moravian Church; and on the same am I ready now (God being my helper) to go to Abyssinia or China, or whithersoever it shall please God, by this conviction, to call me.

“As to your advice that I should settle in College, I have no business there, having now no office, and no pupils. And whether the other branch of your proposal be expedient for me, viz., ‘To accept of a cure of souls,’ it will be time enough to consider, when one is offered to me.

“But, in the mean time, you think I ought to sit still; because otherwise I should invade another’s office, if I interfered with other people’s business, and intermeddled with souls that did not belong to me. You accordingly ask, ‘How is it that I assemble Christians who are none of my charge, to sing psalms, and pray, and hear the Scriptures expounded?’ and think it hard to justify doing this in other men’s parishes, upon Catholic principles.

“Permit me to speak plainly. If by Catholic principles you mean any other than Scriptural, they weigh nothing with me: I allow no other rule, whether of faith or practice, than the Holy Scriptures: But on scriptural principles, I do not think it hard to justify whatever I do. God in Scripture commands me, according to my power, to instruct the ignorant, reform the wicked, confirm the virtuous. Man forbids me to do this in another’s parish; that is, in effect, to do it at all; seeing I have now no parish of my own, nor probably ever shall. Whom then shall I hear, God or man? ‘If it be just to obey man rather than God, judge you. A dispensation of the Gospel is committed to me; and woe is me, if I preach not the Gospel.’ But where shall I preach it, upon the principles YOU mention? Why, not in Europe, Asia, Africa, or America; not in any of the Christian parts, at least, of the habitable earth. For all these are, after a sort, divided into parishes. If it be said, ‘Go back, then, to the Heathens from whence you came:’ Nay, but neither could I now (on your principles) preach to them; for all the Heathens in Georgia belong to the parish either of Savannah or Frederica. “Suffer me now to tell you my principles in this matter. I look upon all the world as my parish; thus far I mean, that, in whatever part of it I am, I judge it meet, right, and my bounden duty, to declare unto all that are willing to hear, the glad tidings of salvation. This is the work which I know God has called me to; and sure I am, that his blessing attends it. Great encouragement have I, therefore, to be faithful in fulfilling the work He hath given me to do. His servant I am, and, as such, am employed according to the plain direction of his word, ‘As I have opportunity, doing good unto all men:’ And his providence clearly concurs with his word; which has disengaged me from all things else, that I might singly attend on this very thing, ‘and go about doing good.’ “If you ask, ‘How can this be? How can one do good, of whom men say all manner of evil?’ I will put you in mind, (though you once knew this, yea, and much established me in that great truth,) the more evil men say of me for my Lord’s sake, the more good will He do by me. That it is for His sake, I know, and He knoweth, and the event agreeth thereto; for He mightily confirms the words I speak, by the Holy Ghost given unto those that hear them. O my friend, my heart is moved toward you. I fear you have herein ‘made shipwreck of the faith.’ I fear, ‘Satan, transformed into an angel of light,’ hath assaulted you, and prevailed also. I fear, that offspring of hell, worldly or mystic prudence, has drawn you away from the simplicity of the Gospel. How else could you ever conceive that the being reviled and ‘hated of all men’ should make us less fit for our Master’s service? How else could you ever think of ‘saving yourself and them that hear you,’ without being ‘the filth and offscouring of the world?’ To this hour is this scripture true; and I therein rejoice; yea, and will rejoice. Blessed be God, I enjoy the reproach of Christ! O may you also be vile, exceeding vile, for his sake! God forbid that you should ever be other than generally scandalous; I had almost said universally. If any man tell you, there is a new way of following Christ, ‘he is a liar, and the truth is not in him.’ “I am,” &c.

5. The Societies Take Shape: Fetter Lane, Kingswood and the Foundery (1739–1740)

John Wesley, Journal, 1 November 1739 – 1 December 1740 (Works, ed. Thomas Jackson, 3rd ed., 1872, vol. I). Selected dated entries; omissions are marked […]. Text from an OCR of the 1872 scan, cleaned by CTS but not yet collated against the printed page. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.

CTS note: In 1739–1740 the Fetter Lane society in London divided. The Moravian Philipp Molther and others taught “stillness”: waiting quietly for faith without using the means of grace (Communion, prayer, reading Scripture). Wesley answered that there are degrees of faith and that the ordinances are means of grace for all. On 20 July 1740 he withdrew, and his followers met at the Foundery, a former cannon foundry in Moorfields. A “band” was a small group for mutual confession and prayer; a “love-feast” was a simple meal of Christian fellowship.

Thursday, November 1, 1739.—I left Bristol, and, on Saturday, came to London. The first person I met with there was one whom I had left strong in faith, and zealous of good works: but she now told me, Mr. Molther had fully convinced her, she never had any faith at all; and had advised her, till she received faith, to be still, ceasing from outward works; which she had accordingly done, and did not doubt but in a short time she should find the advantage of it. In the evening Mr. Bray, also, was highly commending the being still before the Lord. He likewise spoke largely of the great danger that attended the doing of outward works, and of the folly of people that keep running about to church and sacrament, “as I,” said he, “did till very lately.”

Sun. 4.—Our society met at seven in the morning, and continued silent till eight. One then spoke of looking unto Jesus, and exhorted us all to lie still in his hand. In the evening I met the women of our society at Fetter-Lane; where some of our brethren strongly intimated that none of them had any true faith; and then asserted, in plain terms, 1. That, till they had true faith, they ought to be still; that is, (as they explained themselves,) to abstain from the means of grace, as they are called; the Lord’s Supper in particular. 2. That the ordinances are not means of grace, there being no other means than Christ.

Wed. 7.—Being greatly desirous to understand the ground of this matter, I had a long conference with Mr. Spangenberg. I agreed with all he said of the power of faith. I agreed, that “whosoever is” by faith “born of God doth not commit sin;” But I could not agree, either, that none has any faith, so long as he is liable to any doubt or fear; or, that till we have it, we ought to abstain from the Lord’s Supper, or the other ordinances of God.

At eight, our society met at Fetter-Lane. We sat an hour without speaking. The rest of the time was spent in dispute; one having proposed a question concerning the Lord’s Supper, which many warmly affirmed none ought to receive, till he had “the full assurance of faith.” I observed every day more and more, the advantage Satan had gained over us. Many of those who once knew in whom they had believed, were thrown into idle reasonings, and thereby filled with doubts and fears, from which they now found no way to escape. Many were induced to deny the gift of God, and affirm they never had any faith at all; especially those who had fallen again into sin, and, of consequence, into darkness; and almost all these had left off the means of grace, saying they must now cease from their own works; they must now trust in Christ alone; they were poor sinners, and had nothing to do but to lie at his feet.

Till Saturday, the 10th, I think I did not meet with one woman of the society who had not been upon the point of casting away her confidence in God. I then indeed found one, who, when many (according to their custom) laboured to persuade her she had no faith, replied, with a spirit they were not able to resist, “I know that the life which I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me: And He has never left me one moment, since the hour He was made known to me in the breaking of bread.” What is to be inferred from this undeniable matter of fact,—one that had not faith received it in the Lord’s Supper? Why, 1. That there are means of grace, that is, outward ordinances, whereby the inward grace of God is ordinarily conveyed to man; whereby the faith that brings salvation is conveyed to them who before had it not. 2. That one of these means is the Lord’s Supper. And, 3. That he who has not this faith ought to wait for it, in the use both of this, and of the other means which God hath ordained.

[…]

Tues. 27 [Nov.].—I writ Mr. D. (according to his request) a short account of what had been done in Kingswood, and of our present undertaking there. The account was as follows:— “Few persons have lived long in the West of England, who have not heard of the colliers of Kingswood; a people famous, from the beginning hitherto, for neither fearing God nor regarding man: So ignorant of the things of God, that they seemed but one remove from the beasts that perish; and therefore utterly without desire of instruction, as well as without the means of it. “Many last winter used tauntingly to say of Mr. Whitefield, ‘If he will convert Heathens, why does not he go to the colliers of Kingswood?’ In spring he did so. And as there were thousands who resorted to no place of public worship, he went after them into their own wilderness, ‘to seek and save that which was lost.’ When he was called away, others went into ‘the highways and hedges, to compel them to come in.’ And, by the grace of God, their labour was not in vain. The scene is already changed. Kingswood does not now, as a year ago, resound with cursing and blasphemy. It is no more filled with drunkenness and uncleanness, and the idle diversions that naturally lead thereto. It is no longer full of wars and fightings, of clamour and bitterness, of wrath and envyings. Peace and love are there. Great numbers of the people are mild, gentle, and easy to be intreated. They ‘do not cry, neither strive,’ and hardly is their ‘voice heard in the streets;’ or indeed in their own wood; unless when they are at their usual evening diversion, singing praise unto God their Saviour. “That their children too might know the things which make for their peace, it was some time since proposed to build a house in Kingswood; and after many foreseen and unforeseen difficulties, in June last the foundation was laid. The ground made choice of was in the middle of the wood, between the London and Bath roads, not far from that called Two-mile-Hill, about three measured miles from Bristol.

“Here a large room was begun for the school, having four small rooms at either end for the Schoolmasters (and, perhaps, if it should please God, some poor children) to lodge in. Two persons are ready to teach, so soon as the house is fit to receive them, the shell of which is nearly finished; so that it is hoped the whole will be completed in spring, or early in the summer. “It is true, although the masters require no pay, yet this undertaking is attended with great expense. But let Him that ‘feedeth the young ravens’ see to that. He hath the hearts of all men in his hand. If He put it into your heart, or into that of any of your friends, to assist in bringing this his work to perfection, in this world look for no recompence; but it shall be remembered in that day, when our Lord shall say, ‘Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me.’”

[…]

Mon. 31 [Dec.].—I had a long and particular conversation with Mr. Molther himself. I weighed all his words with the utmost care; desired him to explain what I did not understand; asked him again and again, “Do I not mistake what you say? Is this your meaning, or is it not?” So that I think, if God has given me any measure of understanding, I could not mistake him much.

As soon as I came home, I besought God to assist me, and not suffer “the blind to go out of the way.” I then wrote down what I conceived to be the difference between us, in the following words:— “As to faith, you believe, “1. There are no degrees of faith, and that no man has any degree of it, before all things in him are become new, before he has the full assurance of faith, the abiding witness of the Spirit, or the clear perception that Christ dwelleth in him. “2. Accordingly you believe, there is no justifying faith, or state of justification, short of this.

“3. Therefore you believe, our brother Hutton, Edmonds, and others, had no justifying faith before they saw you. “4. And, in general, that that gift of God, which many received since Peter Böhler came into England, viz., a sure confidence of the love of God to them,’ was not justifying faith. “5. And that the joy and love attending it were from animal spirits, from nature or imagination; not ‘joy in the Holy Ghost,’ and the real ‘love of God shed abroad in their hearts.’ “Whereas I believe, “1. There are degrees in faith; and that a man may have some degree of it, before all things in him are become new; before he has the full assurance of faith, the abiding witness of the Spirit, or the clear perception that Christ dwelleth in him.

“2. Accordingly, I believe there is a degree of justifying faith (and consequently, a state of justification) short of, and commonly antecedent to, this.

“3. And I believe our brother Hutton, with many others, had justifying faith long before they saw you.

“4. And, in general, that the gift of God, which many received since Peter Böhler came into England, viz., a sure confidence of the love of God to them,’ was justifying faith. “5. And that the joy and love attending it, were not from animal spirits, from nature or imagination; but a measure of ‘joy in the Holy Ghost,’ and of ‘the love of God shed abroad in their hearts.’

“As to the way to faith, you believe, “That the way to attain it is, to wait for Christ, and be still; that is, “Not to use (what we term) the means of grace; “Not to go to church;

“Not to communicate;

“Not to fast;

“Not to use so much private prayer; “Not to read the Scripture;

“(Because you believe, these are not means of grace; that is, do not ordinarily convey God’s grace to unbelievers; and, “That it is impossible for a man to use them without trusting in them;)

“Not to do temporal good;

“Nor to attempt doing spiritual good.

“(Because you believe, no fruit of the Spirit is given by those who have it not themselves;

“And, that those who have not faith are utterly blind, and therefore unable to guide other souls.)

“Whereas I believe, “The way to attain it is, to wait for Christ and be still; “In using all the means of grace.

“Therefore I believe it right, for him who knows he has not faith, (that is, that conquering faith,)

“To go to church;

“To communicate;

“To fast;

“To use as much private prayer as he can, and “To read the Scripture;

“(Because I believe, these are ‘means of grace;’ that is, do ordinarily convey God’s grace to unbelievers; and “That it is possible for a man to use them, without trusting in them;)

“To do all the temporal good he can;

“And to endeavour after doing spiritual good.

“(Because I know, many fruits of the Spirit are given by those who have them not themselves;

“And that those who have not faith, or but in the lowest degree, may have more light from God, more wisdom for the guiding of other souls, than many that are strong in faith.) “As to the manner of propagating the faith, you believe (as I have also heard others affirm)

“That we may, on some accounts, use guile:

“By saying what we know will deceive the hearers, or lead them to think the thing which is not.

“By describing things a little beyond the truth, in order to their coming up to it.

“By speaking as if we meant what we do not.

“But I believe, “That we may not ‘use guile’ on any account whatsoever; “That we may not, on any account, say what we know will, and design should, deceive the hearers;

“That we may not describe things one jot beyond the truth, whether they come up to it, or no; and, “That we may not speak, on any pretence, as if we meant what indeed we do not.

“Lastly, as to the fruits of your thus propagating the faith in England, you believe, “Much good has been done by it; “Many unsettled from a false foundation;

“Many brought into true stillness, in order to their coming to the true foundation;

“Some grounded thereon who were wrong before, but are right now.

“On the contrary, I believe that very little good, but much hurt, has been done by it.

“Many who were beginning to build holiness and good works, on the true foundation of faith in Jesus, being now wholly unsettled and lost in vain reasonings and doubtful disputations; “Many others being brought into a false unscriptural stillness; so that they are not likely to come to any true foundation; “And many being grounded on a faith which is without works; so that they who were right before, are wrong now.”

[…]

Wednesday, 23 [April 1740], I went to Mr. Simpson. He told me, all the confusion was owing to my brother, who would preach up the ordinances: “Whereas believers,” said he, “are not subject to ordinances; and unbelievers have nothing to do with them: They ought to be still; otherwise, they will be unbelievers all the days of their life.”

After a fruitless dispute of about two hours, I returned home with a heavy heart. Mr. Molther was taken ill this day. I believe it was the hand of God that was upon him. In the evening our society met; but cold, weary, heartless, dead. I found nothing of brotherly love among them now; but a harsh, dry, heavy, stupid spirit. For two hours they looked one at another, when they looked up at all, as if one half of them was afraid of the other; yea, as if a voice were sounding in their ears, “Take ye heed every one of his neighbour: Trust ye not in any brother: For every brother will utterly supplant, and every neighbour will walk with slanders.” I think not so few as thirty persons spoke to me in these two days, who had been strongly solicited, 1. To deny what God had done for their souls; to own they never had living faith. 2. To be still till they had it; to leave off all the means of grace; not to go to church; not to communicate; not to search the Scripture; not to use private prayer; at least, not so much, or not vocally, or not at any stated times.

Fri. 25.—My brother and I went to Mr. Molther again, and spent two hours in conversation with him. He now also explicitly affirmed, 1. That there are no degrees in faith; that none has any faith who has ever any doubt or fear; and that none is justified till he has a clean heart, with the perpetual indwelling of Christ, and of the Holy Ghost; and, 2. That every one who has not this, ought, till he has it, to be still: That is, as he explained it, not to use the ordinances, or means of grace, so called. He also expressly asserted, 1. That to those who have a clean heart, the ordinances are not matter of duty. They are not commanded to use them: They are free: They may use them, or they may not. 2. That those who have not a clean heart, ought not to use them; (particularly not to communicate;) because God neither commands nor designs they should; (commanding them to none, designing them only for believers;) and because they are not means of grace; there being no such thing as means of grace, but Christ only.

Ten or twelve persons spoke to me this day also, and many more the day following, who had been greatly troubled by this new gospel, and thrown into the utmost heaviness; and, indeed, wherever I went, I found more and more proofs of the grievous confusion it had occasioned; many coming to me day by day, who were once full of peace and love; but were now again plunged into doubts and fears, and driven even to their wit’s end.

I was now utterly at a loss what course to take; finding no rest for the sole of my foot. These “vain janglings” pursued me wherever I went, and were always sounding in my ears.—

Wednesday, 30, I went to my friend, (that was!) Mr. St——, at Islington. But he also immediately entered upon the subject, telling me, now he was fully assured, that no one has any degree of faith till he is perfect as God is perfect. I asked, “Have you then no degree of faith?” He said, “No; for I have not a clean heart.” I turned and asked his servant, “Esther, have you a clean heart?” She said, “No; my heart is desperately wicked: But I have no doubt or fear. I know my Saviour loves me; and I love him: I feel it every moment.” I then plainly told her master, “Here is an end of your reasoning. This is the state, the existence of which you deny.” Thence I went to the little society here, which had stood untainted from the beginning. But the plague was now spread to them also. One of them, who had been long full of joy in believing, now denied she had any faith at all; and said, till she had, she would communicate no more. Another, who said, she had the “faith that overcometh the world,” added, she had not communicated for some weeks; and it was all one to her whether she did or no; for a believer was not subject to ordinances.

In the evening, one of the first things started at Fetter-Lane was, the question concerning the ordinances. But I entreated we might not be always disputing; but rather give ourselves unto prayer.

I endeavoured all this time, both by explaining in public those scriptures which had been misunderstood, and by private conversation, to bring back those who had been led out of the way, and having now delivered my own soul, on Friday, May 2, I left London; and lying at Hungerford that night, the next evening came to Bristol.

[…]

Sun. 22 [June].—Finding there was no time to delay, without utterly destroying the cause of God, I began to execute what I had long designed,—to strike at the root of the grand delusion. Accordingly, from those words of Jeremiah, “Stand ye in the way, ask for the old paths,” I took occasion to give a plain account, both of the work which God had begun among us, and of the manner wherein the enemy had sown his tares among the good seed, to this effect:— “After we had wandered many years in the new path, of salvation by faith and works; about two years ago it pleased God to show us the old way, of salvation by faith only. And many soon tasted of this salvation, ‘being justified freely, having peace with God, rejoicing in hope of the glory of God,’ and having his ‘love shed abroad in their hearts.’ These now ran the way of his commandments: They performed all their duty to God and man. They walked in all the ordinances of the Lord; and through these means, which he had appointed for that end, received daily grace to help in time of need, and went on from faith to faith.

“But, eight or nine months ago, certain men arose, speaking contrary to the doctrines we had received. They affirmed, that we were all in a wrong way still; that we had no faith at all; that faith admits of no degrees, and consequently weak faith is no faith; that none is justified till he has a clean heart, and is incapable of any doubt or fear.

“They affirmed also, that there is no commandment in the New Testament, but ‘to believe;’ that no other duty lies upon us; and that when a man does believe, he is not bound or obliged to do any thing which is commanded there: In particular, that he is not subject to ordinances, that is, (as they explained it,) is not bound or obliged to pray, to communicate, to read or hear the Scriptures; but may or may not use any of these things, (being in no bondage,) according as he finds his heart free to it.

They farther affirmed, that a believer cannot use any of these as a means of grace; that indeed there is no such thing as any means of grace, this expression having no foundation in Scripture: And that an unbeliever, or one who has not a clean heart, ought not to use them at all; ought not to pray, or search the Scriptures, or communicate, but to ‘be still,’ that is, leave off these ‘works of the law;’ and then he will surely receive faith, which, till he is still, he cannot have. All these assertions I propose to consider. The first was, that weak faith is no faith.

By weak faith I understand, 1. That which is mixed with fear, particularly of not enduring to the end. 2. That which is mixed with doubt, whether we have not deceived ourselves, and whether our sins be indeed forgiven. 3. That which has not yet purified the heart fully, not from all its idols. And thus weak I find the faith of almost all believers to be, within a short time after they have first peace with God. “Yet that weak faith is faith appears, 1. From St. Paul, ‘Him that is weak in faith, receive.’ 2. From St. John, speaking of believers who were little children, as well as of young men and fathers. 3. From our Lord’s own words, ‘Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?—I have prayed for thee, (Peter,) that thy faith fail thee not.’ Therefore he then had faith. Yet so weak was that faith, that not only doubt and fear, but gross sin in the same night prevailed over him. “Nevertheless he was ‘clean, by the word’ Christ had ‘spoken to him;’ that is, justified; though it is plain he had not a clean heart.

“Therefore, there are degrees in faith; and weak faith may yet be true faith.”

Mon. 23.—I considered the second assertion, that there is but one commandment in the New Testament, viz., “to believe:” That no other duty lies upon us, and that a believer is not obliged to do any thing as commanded. “How gross, palpable a contradiction is this, to the whole tenor of the New Testament! every part of which is full of commandments, from St. Matthew to the Revelation! But it is enough to observe, 1. That this bold affirmation is shamelessly contrary to our Lord’s own words, ‘Whosoever shall break one of the least of these commandments, shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven.’ For nothing can be more evident, than that he here speaks of more than one, of several commandments, which every soul, believer or not, is obliged to keep as commanded. 2. That this whole scheme is overturned from top to bottom, by that other sentence of our Lord, ‘When ye have done all that is commanded you, say, We have done no more than it was our duty to do.’ 3. That although to do what God commands us is a believer’s privilege, that does not affect the question. He does it nevertheless, as his bounden duty, and as a command of God. 4. That this is the surest evidence of his believing, according to our Lord’s own words, ‘If ye love me,’ (which cannot be unless ye believe,) ‘keep my commandments.’ 5. That to desire to do what God commands, but not as a command, is to affect, not freedom, but independency. Such independency as St. Paul had not; for though the Son had made him free, yet was he not without law to God, but under the law to Christ: Such as the holy angels have not; for they fulfil his commandments, and hearken to the voice of his words: Yea, such as Christ himself had not; for ‘as the Father’ had given him ‘commandment,’ so he ‘spake.’”

Tues. 24.—The substance of my exposition in the morning, on, “Why yet are ye subject to ordinances?” was, “From hence it has been inferred, that Christians are not subject to the ordinances of Christ; that believers need not, and unbelievers may not, use them; that these are not obliged, and those are not permitted, so to do; that these do not sin when they abstain from them; but those do sin when they do not abstain. “But with how little reason this has been inferred, will sufficiently appear to all who consider, “1. That the ordinances here spoken of by St. Paul are evidently Jewish ordinances; such as, ‘Touch not, taste not, handle not;’ and those, mentioned afew verses before, concerning meats and drinks, and new moons, and Sabbaths. 2. That, consequently, this has no reference to the ordinances of Christ; such as, prayer, communicating, and searching the Scriptures. 3. That Christ himself spake, that ‘men’ ought ‘always to pray;’ and commands, ‘not to forsake the assembling ourselves together;’ to search the Scriptures, and to eat bread and drink wine, in remembrance of him. 4. That the commands of Christ oblige all who are called by his name, whether (in strictness) believers or unbelievers; seeing ‘whosoever breaketh the least of these commandments, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven.’” In the evening I preached on, “Cast not away your confidence, which hath great recompence of reward.”

“Ye who have known and felt your sins forgiven, cast not away your confidence, 1. Though your joy should die away, your love wax cold, and your peace itself be roughly assaulted: Though, 2. You should find doubt or fear, or strong and uninterrupted temptation; yea, though, 3. You should find a body of sin still in you, and thrusting sore at you that you might fall. “The first case may be only a fulfilling of your Lord’s words, ‘Yet a little while, and ye shall not see me.’ But he ‘will come unto you again, and your hearts shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.’

“Your being in strong temptation, yea, though it should rise so high as to throw you into an agony, or to make you fear that God had forgotten you, is no more a proof that you are not a believer, than our Lord’s agony, and his crying, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ was a proof that he was not the Son of God.

“Your finding sin remaining in you still, is no proof that you are not a believer. Sin does remain in one that is justified, though it has not dominion over him. For he has not a clean heart at first, neither are ‘all things’ as yet ‘become new.’ But fear not, though you have an evil heart. Yet a little while, and you shall be endued with power from on high, whereby you may ‘purify yourselves, even as He is pure,’ and be ‘holy, as He which hath called you is holy.’”

[…]

Wed. July 2.—I went to the society; but I found their hearts were quite estranged. Friday, 4. I met a little handful of them, who still stand in the old paths; but how long they may stand God knoweth, the rest being continually pressing upon them. Wednesday, 9. I came to an explanation once more with them all together; but with no effect at all. Tuesday, 15. We had yet another conference at large, but in vain; for all continued in their own opinions.

Wed. 16.—One desired me to look into an old book, and give her my judgment of it; Particularly of what was added at the latter end. This, I found, was, “The Mystic Divinity of Dionysius;” and several extracts nearly allied thereto, full of the same “super-essential darkness.” I borrowed the book, and going in the evening to Fetter-Lane, read one of those extracts, to this effect:— “The Scriptures are good; prayer is good; communicating is good; relieving our neighbour is good, but to one who is not born of God, none of these is good, but all very evil. For him to read the Scriptures, or to pray, or to communicate, or to do any outward work, is deadly poison. First, let him be born of God. Till then let him not do any of these things. For if he does, he destroys himself.” After reading this twice or thrice over, as distinctly as I could, I asked, “My brethren, is this right, or is it wrong?” Mr. Bell answered immediately, “It is right; it is all right. It is the truth. To this we must all come, or we never can come to Christ.” Mr. Bray said, “I believe our brother Bell did not hear what you read, or did not rightly understand.” But Mr. Bell replied short, “Yes, I heard every word; and I understand it well. I say, it is the truth; it is the very truth; it is the inward truth.”

Many then laboured to prove, that my brother and I laid too much stress upon the ordinances. To put this matter beyond dispute, “I,” said Mr. Bowes, “used the ordinances twenty years; yet I found not Christ. But I left them off only for a few weeks, and I found him then. And I am now as close united to him as my arm is to my body.” One asked, whether they would suffer Mr. Wesley to preach at Fetter-Lane. After a short debate, it was answered, “No: This place is taken for the Germans.” Some asked, whether the Germans had converted any soul in England; Whether they had not done us much hurt, instead of good; raising a division of which we could see no end; And whether God did not many times use Mr. Wesley for the healing our divisions, when we were all in confusion. Several roundly replied, “Confusion! What do you mean? We were never in any confusion at all.” I said, “Brother Edmonds, you ought not to say so; because I have your letters now in my hands.” Mr. Edmonds replied, “That is not the first time I have put darkness for light, and light for darkness.” We continued in useless debate till about eleven. I then gave them up to God.

Fri. 18.—A few of us joined with my mother in the great sacrifice of thanksgiving; and then consulted how to proceed with regard to our poor brethren of Fetter-Lane: We all saw the thing was now come to a crisis, and were therefore unanimously agreed what to do.

Sun. 20.—At Mr. Seward’s earnest request, I preached once more in Moorfields, on the “work of faith,” and the “patience of hope,” and the “labour of love.” A zealous man was so kind as to free us from most of the noisy, careless hearers, (or spectators rather,) by reading, meanwhile, at a small distance, a chapter in the “Whole Duty of Man.” I wish neither he nor they may ever read a worse book; though I can tell them of a better,—the Bible.

In the evening I went with Mr. Seward to the Love-Feast in Fetter-Lane; at the conclusion of which, having said nothing till then, I read a paper, the substance whereof was as follows:— “About nine months ago certain of you began to speak contrary to the doctrine we had till then received. The sum of what you asserted is this:—“1. That there is no such thing as weak faith; That there is no justifying faith where there is ever any doubt or fear, or where there is not, in the full sense, a new, a clean heart. “2. That a man ought not to use those ordinances of God, which our Church terms ‘means of grace,’ before he has such a faith as excludes all doubt and fear, and implies a new, a clean heart.

“You have often affirmed, that to search the Scriptures, to pray, or to communicate, before we have this faith, is to seek salvation by works; and that till these works are laid aside, no man can receive faith.

“I believe these assertions to be flatly contrary to the word of God. I have warned you hereof again and again, and besought you to turn back to the Law and the Testimony. I have borne with you long, hoping you would turn. But as I find you more and more confirmed in the error of your ways, nothing now remains, but that I should give you up to God. You that are of the same judgment, follow me.” I then, without saying any thing more, withdrew, as did eighteen or nineteen of the society.

Tues. 22.—Mr. Chapman, just come from Germany, gave me a letter from one of our (once) brethren there; wherein, after denying the gift of God, which he received in England, he advised my brother and me, no longer to take upon us to teach and instruct poor souls; but to deliver them up to the care of the Moravians, who alone were able to instruct them. “You,” said he, “only instruct them in such errors, that they will be damned at last;” and added, “St. Peter justly describes you, who ‘have eyes full of adultery, and cannot cease from sin;’ and take upon you to guide unstable souls, and lead them in the way of damnation.”

Wed. 23.—Our little company met at the Foundery, instead of Fetter-Lane. About twenty-five of our brethren God hath given us already, all of whom think and speak the same thing; seven or eight and forty likewise, of the fifty women that were in Band, desired to cast in their lot with us. Fri. Aug. 1.—I described that “rest” which “remaineth for the people of God.” Sunday, 3. At St. Luke’s, our parish church, was such a sight as, I believe, was never seen there before: Several hundred communicants, from whose very faces one might judge, that they indeed sought Him that was crucified.

[…]

Mon. 11.—Forty or fifty of those who were seeking salvation desired leave to spend the night together, at the society-room, in prayer and giving thanks. Before ten I left them, and lay down. But I could have no quiet rest, being quite uneasy in my sleep, as I found others were too, that were asleep in other parts of the house. Between two and three in the morning I was waked, and desired to come down stairs. I immediately heard such a confused noise, as if a number of men were all putting to the sword. It increased when I came into the room and began to pray. One whom I particularly observed to be roaring aloud for pain was J— W——, who had been always, till then, very sure that “none cried out but hypocrites:” So had Mrs. S—ms also. But she too now cried to God with a loud and bitter cry. It was not long before God heard from his holy place. He spake, and all our souls were comforted. He bruised Satan under our feet; and sorrow and sighing fled away.

[…]

Sat. Nov. 1.—While I was preaching at Long-Lane, the storm was so exceeding high, that the house we were in shook continually: But so much the more did many rejoice in Him whom the winds and the seas obey; finding they were ready to obey his call, if He should then require their souls of them.

Mon. 3.—We distributed, as every one had need, among the numerous poor of our society, the clothes of several kinds, which many who could spare them had brought for that purpose.

Sun. 9.—I had the comfort of finding all our brethren that are in Band, of one heart and of one mind.

[…]

Tues. 25.—After several methods proposed for employing those who were out of business, we determined to make a trial of one which several of our brethren recommended to us. Our aim was, with as little expense as possible, to keep them at once from want and from idleness; in order to which, we took twelve of the poorest, and a teacher, into the society-room, where they were employed for four months, till spring came on, in carding and spinning of cotton: And the design answered: They were employed and maintained with very little more than the produce of their own labour. Fri. 28.—A gentleman came to me full of good-will, to exhort me not to leave the Church; or (which was the same thing in his account) to use extemporary prayer; which, said he, “I will prove to a demonstration to be no prayer at all. For you cannot do two things at once. But thinking how to pray, and praying, are two things. Ergo, you cannot both think and pray at once.” Now, may it not be proved by the self-same demonstration, that praying by a form is no prayer at all? e. g. “You cannot do two things at once. But reading and praying are two things. Ergo, you cannot both read and pray at once.” Q. E. D. In the afternoon I was with one of our sisters, who, for two days, was believed to be in the agonies of death, being then in travail with her first child: But the pain, she declared, was as nothing to her; her soul being filled, all that time, with “joy unspeakable.”

Mon. Dec. 1.—Finding many of our brethren and sisters offended at each other, I appointed the several accusers to come and speak face to face with the accused. Some of them came almost every day this week. And most of the offences vanished away. Where any doubt remained, I could only advise them each to look to his own heart; and to suspend their judgments of each other, till God should “bring to light the hidden things of darkness.”