But I must here add, that this impression that my sins were actually pardoned, was not accompanied with any increase of light to my understanding of the way in which God forgives sin. I was as blind to the nature of the great doctrines of the justifying righteousness and atoning blood of Christ, as I had been before. The views which at this time I entertained of Christ's death, were, that he had died to procure the pardon of such sins as were committed by sinners, while in a state of ignorance and impenitence. I believed that had Christ not died, there would have been no pardon for sin, but that his death had opened the door of mercy to penitent sinners of all descriptions. I thought all the design of God, was to bring men to a sense of their moral duty, and to put them once more in a fair way of discharging their moral obligations to him, as their Creator and Preserver; and that he had promised those who repented, his assistance in all things that were difficult, and his protection from outward danger; and that Christ's death justified God, in granting pardon to penitent sinners, on account of their penitence. I had some faint recollection of what I had read in Boston's Fourfold State, and the instructions I had received in the Sabbath school, and from others, and could discern that there was a difference between them and the instructions I was now hearing, particularly on the doctrine of election, and remaining corruption in believers; but I had no fixed ideas on these topics, only just as much as prevented me from thinking that the Methodists were right, in denying, that the doctrines of election, and of remaining depravity in all believers, were taught in the Bible. I thought they were, but they were not any part of my own fixed belief. I read Wesley on Christian perfection, and, although I did not think he gave a sound view of some Scripture texts, perfection was the thing I was striving to obtain; a perfect obedience to the divine law was what I had set out to accomplish; and the following lines of one of Mr. Wesley's hymns, were, for a time, very frequent in my mouth, and repeated in secret prayer to God;
O grant that nothing in my heart
May dwell, but thy pure love alone;
and I resolved that my life should be one scene of devotion and of gratitude to God. I continued to go on pretty smoothly for about six weeks, and I thought I had got the better of sinful inclinations; but when I fancied I was strong, I soon had reason to be convinced that I was weak, had I only been willing to learn; for I again fell into some sins, which I had flattered myself I should never more be guilty of; and this broke my peace of mind, and blasted all my hopes. I however found means to heal the sore again, after having undergone considerable pain of mind. I again set out by repenting, and trusting in the mercy of God, and resolving on future obedience; but my conduct was not regular, and secret sins, which lay at times very heavy upon my conscience, would overcome me, although I strove against them with all my might.
I continued to attend the various meetings, public and private, amongst the Methodists, while we lay in Athlone. My attendance among them was certainly of great benefit to me, in leading to a train of experience, that materially contributed to make me acquainted with the deep deceitfulness of my own heart. I was indeed slow to learn; but what took place with me at that time, afforded matter for reflection afterwards. I think upon it still, and see great reason for humility on account of my blindness, in not seeing while I was there, that I was without strength and without righteousness, without Christ, and without hope, I can not tell how far the gospel was set before me by the Methodists; but I am pretty certain, from some expressions that I have still a faint recollection of, that Christ was set before me in a much clearer light than I at that time apprehended him; I had, all the time I was there, continued in a course of sinning and repenting, making resolutions and breaking them; and, although I suffered great pain of conscience, I succeeded in quieting it by the hope of better success the next time. When we came to leave the place, I felt that I should not have the same privilege, of the means of instruction and social worship, at least for a while to come; and this gave me less hope of myself, and filled me with a greater degree of fear, that I should be more liable to be overcome by temptation, when I should not have the help of the means of grace.
I may here mention a simple incident that occurred while I was in Athlone. One night I was placed sentinel over a prisoner, in the room in which he slept. He was asleep, and I did not disturb him; a book lay near me; I took it up and passed the two hours with it; it was a book of sermons on Contentment, written by an old divine, (if I mistake not, a Mr. Taylor of London,) but it matters not who the author was. He handled it in a variety of lights, and applied the principle of contentment to the good works of Christians. I forgot all that I read but the following expressions; he said, that the genuine disciple of Christ was one, who was willing to do every thing for the sake of Christ, and, at the same time, was content to deny all he had done for Christ's sake. The author pursued his subject in a spiritual sense, and I was taken with the book, although I did not understand it. It was, however, written in such a strain of piety, that I was struck with it; my memory kept hold of the words, "do all for Christ, and deny all for Christ;" and I would at times reflect upon them, as strange and mysterious. I could never understand them, but I could not help being struck with them; and when the Lord opened my eyes several years afterwards, I remembered I had read them, and wondered how it was I did not understand them sooner; but I was then carnal; and the things of the Spirit were foolishness to me, for I had not spiritual discernment.
We left Athlone, and marched to Cork, in June, 1799, to embark for England, and join the army that was forming to invade Holland. After leaving Athlone, I began to fall off in my attention to serious things. I carried Gray's Sermons in my knapsack, to oblige a comrade who was a Methodist, but who had not room for it in his. I carried it to the place of our embarkation, and returned it to him, without having read any part of it. I had read little or nothing of my Bible either, during the march. I found out the Methodist meeting at Cashil, where we stopt a day, and was at worship twice or thrice.
We lay several weeks encamped at a place called Monkton, near Cork, waiting for vessels to carry us to England. I was twice or thrice at a prayer meeting during that time; but although the prospect of danger was increasing, I was increasingly remiss in attending to religious duties; and this was the case with the most part of those who had been joined with the Methodists. There was only one man in the regiment who was uniformly steady and consistent in these things.
[3]. They impressed into their service all the blacksmiths they could find.
[4]. Reports varied as to the number landed: some reports made them 15,000, others, as high as 30,000.