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same evidence.* Nothing can be more distinct than his principles,-nothing more earnest than his precepts. Obedience to God's commands,-watchfulness against evil,-tenderness of conscience,-purity of heart,-selfdenial,-- care of temper,-discharge of duty,-activity in work,-retreat for self-examination and prayer,-attendance on the ordinances of the church,-self-examination,-tears of penitence,-these are the duties which he presses, through sermons short, cogent, and plain, with a force and fulness which leave us nothing to desire. When we bear in mind that he preached eight hundred of these sermons yearly, we must admit that his part at least was done.

But, if we take his own testimony, small, and less as Methodism grew, was the effect of his toil. Sadly does he complain of his failure. Those, who are sincere among his disciples, he reckons at 500 among 50,000.§ "Why has Christianity done so little good even among Methodists?" Why is self-denial in general so little practised at present among the Methodists? Why is so exceedingly little of it to be found even in the oldest and largest societies?"

"It is an observation which admits of few exceptions, that nine in ten of them decreased in grace, in the same proportion as they increased in wealth." ||

* Sermons, Vol. v. pp. 12, 58, 59, 68, 70, 78, 101-103, 180, 181, 229. ↑ Ibid. pp. 16, 19, 33, 34. Sermon 87.1 p. 13.

§ Sermons, Vol. vii. 87, 88, 89, 108, 116, 126.

Sermon 116, p. 273.

Wesley had tried rigid rules to restrain worldly conformity; Gold and silver ornaments; lace, velvet, and fine linen; ruffles, buckles, and powder, he had forbidden with the strictness of a monk. But the worldliness grew; and Wesley, still confiding in his system, reproaches himself that he did not at first enjoin on his disciples a peculiar dress, like that of the Quakers, which he thinks, might in separating them from the world, have severed them from its spirit. Worldliness and the love of money are the plague-spots, which he sees spreading, which he notes, brands, tries to repress, and fails. His words are worth recording, both as lessons, not without their use in our selfindulgent age—and as proofs of the point on which I am dwelling.

To those who spent their money in their own gratification, he says,—

"For mercy, for pity, for Christ's sake, for the honor of the Gospel, stay your hand. Do not throw this money away. Do not lay out on nothing, yea, worse than nothing, what may clothe your poor, naked, shivering fellow-creatures.” *

Again," After you have gained all you can, and saved all you can, wanting for nothing, spend not one pound or shilling or one penny to gratify either the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, or the pride of life; or for any other end than to please and glorify God."

* Sermon cxxvi, p. 345.

To those, who were amassing wealth, he appeals. For, though advocating industry, frugality, and a fit provision for a man and his family, he was against all accumulation beyond this.

"You will have no reward in heaven for what you lay up. You will for what you lay out. Every pound you put into the earthly bank is sunk: it brings no interest above. But every pound you give to the poor is put into the bank of heaven. And it will bring glorious interest; yea, and as such will be accumulated to all eternity. Hoard nothing. If you have no family, after you have provided for yourself, give away all that remains." *

"Permit me," he says, "to speak as freely of myself as I would of another man; I gain all I can (mainly by writing), without hurting either my soul or body. I save all I can, not willingly wasting any thing,-not a sheet of paper, nor a cup of water: I do not lay out anything, not a shilling, unless as a sacrifice to God. Yet, by giving all I can, I am effectually secured from laying up treasures upon earth; and that I do this, I call all that know me, both friends and foes, to testify. I cannot help leaving my books behind me, whenever God calls me hence, but in every other respect, my own hands will be my executors." +

Again, he says,

* Sermon lxxxix. p. 345.

+ Ibid. p. 8.

"After having served you between sixty and seventy years, with dim eyes, shaking hands, and tottering feet, I give you one more advice before I sink into the dust. I am pained for you that are rich in this world. Do you give all you can? 'I must provide for my children.' Certainly, but how? by making them rich? Then you will probably make them heathens. Leave them enough to live on, not in idleness and luxury, but by honest industry. And if you have not children, upon what scriptural or rational principle can you leave a groat behind you, more than will bury you? I pray, consider, what are you the better for what you leave behind you; what does it signify, whether you leave behind you 10,000 pounds, or 10,000 shoes or boots? Oh! leave nothing behind you; send all you have before you into a better world! Lend it. Lend it all unto the Lord, and it shall be paid unto you again. Is there any danger that his Truth should fail? It is fixed as the pillar of heaven.” *

But I need not heap up evidence. It is plain, that, when the first impulse of Methodism had passed, declension set in. Much of this arose from human weakness and from the worldliness of man. But the system had its share in this; and its stimulants, which roused emotion, served to deaden piety. How this result arose, is a question for the philosopher; and by one of

* Sermon cxxvi, p. 345.

eminence in Christian philosophy, it has been wisely handled.* My duty is only to notice it in passing, and to observe that any system, which makes Christianity chiefly dependent on impulse, novelty, and the sympathy of numbers, however useful at the outset, will be ineffective in the end; it may help to awaken thought, but will fail to form and reform character.

Still, we must not forget our debt to Methodism. It restored religion, when it had sunk low in England, and our national morals, when they were decayed. I take one specimen of its power, and I ask my readers to bear in mind that the letter, from which I quote, was written by a sempstress-girl at Newcastle, in the midst of din, dust, and smoke, with no teaching except that which she had received from her Methodist instructors. Yet see to what lofty thoughts she had been raised.

"I know not how to agree to the not working. I am still unwilling to take any thing from any body. I work out of choice, having never yet learned how a woman can be idle and innocent. I have had as blessed times in my soul, sitting at my work, as ever I had in my life; especially in the night-time, when I see nothing but the light of a candle and a white cloth, and hear nothing but the sound of my own breath, with God in my sight, and heaven in my soul, I think myself one of the happiest creatures below the skies.

* See Alexander Knox's Remains. Letters to J. Butterworth.

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