And did these holy men, John and Charles, thus talk?—Yes; such were their hearts, and out of that wicked abundance they thus spoke and wrote; and, in these awful delusions, and dreadful enmity to truth, I suppose they lived and died, for we never hear that either of them ever recanted or repented of their awful errors; and I am informed that many Calvinist preachers hung their pulpits in black when the above gentlemen died.—I ask was it for sorrow, or to shew the colour of their errors? The man that dies in his errors unrepented of, must be damned if God be true; and he that errs from the truth must be converted from the errors of his way, before his soul can be saved from death, or the multitude of his sins be covered. I am thankful, however, it was my mercy to be favoured with the sound of the pure gospel, and at times furnished with some excellent books written in answer, and forming a complete refutation of the system of Arminianism. Dr. Gill, Mr. Toplady and others very masterly answered Wesley and his colleagues; and Sir Richard Hill and others, refuted Fletcher; although the Wesleyan Methodists boldly assert that Fletcher is invulnerable, and has never been answered or refuted. This could easily be proved, if Sir Richard’s works were again revived. Gurney likewise wrote many excellent pieces; especially the “Nature and Fitness of Things,” and “The Perfection of God, a Standing Rule to try all Doctrines and Experiences by;” in which the author says, upon a review of the “Hymns (blasphemously so called) on God’s Everlasting Love.”
“Blush, Wesley blush, be fill’d with shame,
Doom thy vile poem to the flame:
What tongue thy horrid crime can tell;
Put saints to sing the song of hell!”
Many, indeed, humbly hope that Mr. John and Charles are now in heaven, singing the song of the Lamb, with all the blood-bought throng. I hope they are; but they must both alter their singing there, to that strange song they sung upon earth. In the hymns we have just noticed, no man can learn that song which the redeemed sing there; but the redeemed themselves; and if not redeemed, they cannot sing; if they are the redeemed they will sing of it. But millions dying in awful enmity to God is no proof they were redeemed from hell; and all that are in heaven, or ever will be, are redeemed from among men. This is the world which he died for. As God took a nation from the midst of another nation, so he takes a world from the midst of the world. These are the every men he died for; not devils, serpents, vipers, dogs and goats; “But ye my flock are men, and the sheep of my pasture are ye, oh house of Israel;” the price of their redemption is paid—God hath accepted it, and the Holy Spirit has engaged to make it known to all who are interested in it sooner or later; and, having began this work, he will never leave it till it terminates in the glorification of the bodies and souls of all his elect redeemed.
“For how would the power of darkness boast,
If but one praying soul was lost.”
But that cannot be, while Jesus lives to plead their cause; he must deliver up his kingdom in the final consummation. For this is the Father’s will, that of all he hath given me I should lose nothing, but shall raise it up again at the last day. This opposition to truth was raised originally by Pelaquis, revived in Holland by Van Harmin, Arminius, and brought over to this country in the sixteenth century; propagated by the Wesley’s, and received by so many thousands, because it is suited to the carnal world, the pride of the heart, and opposition to God’s divine sovereignty and justice. This subject, I say, not only drew forth the pens of great men in its defence, but also some sarcastic writings, treating it with the contempt it deserves. Amongst many other pieces, there was one which appeared in the Old Gospel Magazine, supposed to be written by The Rev. R. H—, or Mr. M’Gowan, and signed “Auscultator,” which, as it is printed, I here present it.
The Serpent and the Fox; or an Interview between Old Nick and Old John.
There’s a Fox, who resideth hard by,
The most perfect, and holy, and sly.
That e’er turn’d a coat, or could pilfer or lye.
As this Reverend Reynard one day,
Sat thinking what game next to play;
Old Nick came a seas’nable visit to pay.
“O your servant, my friend,” quoth the priest;
“Tho’ you carry the mark of the beast,
I never shook paws with a welcomer guest.”
“Many thanks, holy man,” cry’d the fiend,
“’Twas because you’re my very good friend,
That I dropt in with you a few moments to spend.”