This is a curious entry, which the reader is left to ponder.
Proceeding to Gainsborough, Wesley no sooner began to preach in Sir Nevil Hickman’s hall than a cock began crowing above his head. The noisy rival, however, was speedily dislodged, and the service was carried on in peace. Wesley then went to Hull, and Beverley, at the latter of which places, the original hive of the Methodist congregations was the house of a shoemaker, where “the Culamite preachers,” as the itinerants were called, were often literally besieged by furious rabbles, and became “a hissing” to the people.
Wesley spent nearly a week at York; after which he proceeded to Helmsley, where he found his friend, the Rev. Dr. Conyers, greatly changed. The Calvinists had prejudiced him against the Arminians, and, notwithstanding the warmth of his friendship twelve months before, he was now suspicious, cold, and distant. The itinerant then wended his way to Scarborough, Robin Hood’s Bay, Whitby, Guisborough, Stokesley, Hutton, Potto, Yarm, Stockton, Darlington, Barnard Castle, and Newcastle on Tyne. He also paid a visit to Weardale, a beautiful valley, above twenty miles long, with only five places of religious worship, to which however was now added a Methodist chapel, built at High House in 1760.[583]
After a three weeks’ stay at Newcastle and in its neighbourhood, Wesley set out for Scotland, preaching at Morpeth, Alnwick, and Berwick on his way. Nearly a month was spent in North Britain. At Edinburgh, he attended the sessions of the General Assembly; and, when he preached on Calton Hill, many, of the ministers were there to hear him. With some hesitation, he joined, at the West Kirk, in the celebration of the Lord’s supper. He visited Dundee, Brechin, Aberdeen, Old Meldrum, Banff, Inverness, Nairn, and other places. In several instances, he preached in the parish kirks; and remarks: “There is seldom fear of wanting a congregation in Scotland. But the misfortune is, they know everything; so they learn nothing.” Two months afterwards, he wrote the following, hitherto unpublished, letter to Lady Maxwell, then a young Scotch widow of twenty-two.
“London, August 17, 1764.
“My dear Lady,—Since I had the pleasure of yours, I have hardly had an hour that I could call my own, otherwise I would not have delayed writing so long, as I have a tender regard for you, and an earnest desire, that you should be altogether a Christian. I cannot be content with your being ever so harmless, or regular, in your behaviour, or even exemplary in all externals. You have received the fear of God already; but shall you stop here? God forbid! This is only the beginning of wisdom. You are not to end there. Fear shall ripen into love. You shall know (perhaps very soon) that love of God which passeth knowledge. You shall witness the kingdom of God within you, even righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. It is no small instance of the goodness of God toward you, that you are conscious of your want of living faith. And this goodness herein is more remarkable, because almost all your neighbours would set you down for a right good believer. O beware of these flatteries. Hold fast to the convictions which God has given you. Faith,—living, conquering, loving faith, is undoubtedly the thing you want; and of this you have frequently a taste, to encourage you in pressing forward. Such is the tender mercy of Him that loves you! Such His desire, that you should receive all His precious promises! Do not think they are afar off. Do not imagine you must stay long months, or years, before you receive them. Do not put them off a day, an hour. Why not now? Why should you not look up this instant, and see, as it were, Jesus Christ evidently set forth, crucified before your eyes? O hear His voice, ‘Daughter, be of good cheer! thy sins are forgiven thee!’ ‘Say not, in thy heart, who shall go up into heaven, or who shall go down into the deep?’ No! ‘The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart.’ ‘Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!’ Joy in the Holy Ghost is a precious gift of God; but, yet, tenderness of conscience is a still greater gift. And all this is for you—just ready.
‘The speechless awe, that dares not move,
And all the silent heaven of love.’
“I am no great friend to solitary Christianity. Nevertheless, in so peculiar a case as yours, I think an exception may be admitted. It does seem most expedient for you, to retire from Edinburgh, at least for a season, till God has increased your strength. For the company of those who know not God, who are strangers to the religion of the heart, especially if they are sensible, agreeable persons, might quite damp the grace of God in your soul.
“You cannot oblige me more than by telling me all that is in your heart. There is no danger of your tiring me. I do not often write so long letters as this; but when I write to you, I am full of matter. I seem to see you just before me,—a poor, feeble, helpless creature, but just upon the point of salvation; upright of heart (in a measure), full of real desires for God, and emerging into light. The Lord take you whole! So prays, my dear lady, your affectionate servant,