Whatever molests or troubles life,
When past, as nothing we esteem,
And pain, like pleasure, is a dream.
And that he actually enjoys the heroic freedom of a rough-rider missionary life is hinted in his hymn—
Confined to neither court nor cell,
His soul disdains on earth to dwell,
He only sojourns here.
God evidently built John Wesley fire-proof and water-proof with a view to precisely what he was to undertake and accomplish. His frame was vigorous, and his spirit unconquerable. Besides all this he had the divine gift of a religious faith that could move mountains and a confidence in his mission that became a second nature. No wonder he could suffer, and last. The brave young man at thirty was the brave old man at nearly ninety. He died in London, March 2, 1791.
Blest with the scorn of finite good,
My soul is lightened of its load