“There I wish you all to be. There I beg you and I may meet with all God’s children. I long to see you that I may impart unto you (should God make use of such a worm) some spiritual gift, and that I may be comforted by the mutual faith of you and me, and by your growth in grace, and in divine as well as human wisdom, during my long absence. I hope matters will be so contrived that I may be with you, to behold your order, before the anniversary. Meanwhile, I remain your affectionate fellow-labourer and servant in the Gospel of Christ,
“John Fletcher.”[[206]]
No wonder that the visits of a man breathing such a spirit were welcomed. Mr. Benson, the head master of the College, writes:—
“He was received as an angel of God. It is not possible for me to describe the veneration in which we all held him. Like Elijah, in the schools of the prophets, he was revered; he was loved; he was almost adored; not only by every student, but by every member of the family.
“And indeed he was worthy. The reader will pardon me, if he thinks I exceed. My heart kindles while I write. Here it was that I saw, shall I say, an angel in human flesh? I should not far exceed the truth if I said so. But here I saw a descendant of fallen Adam, so fully raised above the ruins of the fall, that, though by the body he was tied down to earth, his whole conversation was in heaven. His life, from day to day, was hid with Christ in God. Prayer, praise, love, and zeal, all ardent, elevated above what one would think attainable in this state of frailty, were the element in which he continually lived. As to others, his one employment was, to call, entreat, and urge them, to ascend with him to the glorious source of being and blessedness. He had leisure, comparatively, for nothing else. Languages, arts, sciences, grammar, rhetoric, logic, even divinity itself, were all laid aside, when he appeared in the schoolroom among the students. His full heart would not suffer him to be silent. He must speak, and they were readier to hearken to this servant and minister of Jesus Christ, than to attend to Sallust, Virgil, Cicero, or any Latin or Greek historian, poet, or philosopher they had been engaged in reading. And they seldom hearkened long, before they were all in tears, and every heart catched fire from the flame that burned in his soul.
“These seasons generally terminated in this. Being convinced that to be ‘filled with the Holy Ghost’ was a better qualification for the ministry of the Gospel than any classical learning (though that too may be useful in its place), after speaking awhile in the schoolroom, he used frequently to say, ‘As many of you as are athirst for the fulness of the Spirit, follow me into my room.’ On this, many of us instantly followed him, and there continued till noon, for two or three hours, praying for one another, till we could bear to kneel no longer. This was done, not once or twice, but many times; and I have sometimes seen him, on these occasions—once in particular—so filled with the love of God, that he cried out, ‘O my God, withhold Thy hand, or the vessel will burst!’ But he afterwards told me, he was afraid he had grieved the Spirit of God, and that he ought to have prayed that the Lord would have enlarged the vessel, or have suffered it to break, that the soul might have had no further bar to its enjoyment of the Supreme Good.
“Such was the ordinary employment of this man of God, while he remained at Trevecca. He preached the word of life to the students and family, and to as many of the neighbours as desired to be present. He was always employed, either in illustrating some important truth, or exhorting to some neglected duty, or administering some needful comfort, or relating some useful anecdote, or making some profitable remark. His devout soul, always burning with love and zeal, led him to intermingle prayer with all he uttered. His manner was so solemn and, at the same time, so mild and insinuating, that it was hardly possible for any one to be in his company without being struck with awe and charmed with love, as if in the presence of an angel or departed spirit. Indeed, I frequently thought, while attending to his heavenly discourse, that he was so different from the generality of mankind as to look more like Moses or Elijah, or some prophet or apostle come again from the dead, than a mortal man dwelling in a house of clay.”[[207]]
This, to some, may appear excessive eulogy; and, therefore, the reader is reminded that Joseph Benson, who wrote it, was not a weak-minded fanatic, but a man of robust understanding, a classical scholar of no mean attainments, an able commentator on the Old and New Testaments, one of the most powerful and successful preachers of his times, and twice President of the Wesleyan Methodist Conference. Such a man was not likely to write random words. He knew Fletcher, and, to the best of his power, described him accurately. And, further, it must be remembered that Benson’s testimony was endorsed by Wesley, who inserted it verbatim in his “Life of Fletcher.“
Such was Fletcher; and yet this half-angelic man had soon to leave Trevecca! The reasons for this must now be given. The subject will be far from pleasant; but, in a Life of Fletcher, it cannot be evaded. For some time past, the storm of the Calvinian controversy had been brewing; now the crisis came, and the storm burst with terrific violence.
Before proceeding, however, with the history of the controversy, there is a letter belonging to this period too interesting to be omitted. David Simpson, who had belonged to Rowland Hill’s Methodist Society, at Cambridge, had recently received episcopal ordination, and begun his famous ministry. Like Wesley, Whitefield, Berridge, Rowland Hill, and others, he was inclined to become, to some extent, an itinerant preacher, and, therefore, irregular. He was only twenty-four years of age, without experience, and in need of counsel. Accordingly, he wrote to Fletcher, who returned the following answer:—