“Sixthly. Try to get nearer to the dear Redeemer. He offers rest to the heavy laden, pardon to the guilty, strength to the feeble, and life to the dead.
“Seventhly. When you have considered your lost state, as a sinner, together with the greatness, the freeness, and the suitableness of Christ’s salvation, believe in Him. Be not afraid to venture upon and trust in Him. Cast yourself on Him by frequent acts of reliance, and stay your soul on Him by means of His promises. Pray much for faith, and be not afraid of accepting, using, and thanking God for a little.
“Eighthly. Beware of impatience, repining, and peevishness, which are the sins of sick people. Be gentle, easy to be pleased, and resigned as the bleeding Lamb of God. Wrong tempers indulged, grieve, if they do not quench, the Spirit.
“Ninthly. Do not repine at being in a strange country, far from your friends; and, if your going to France does not answer the end proposed for your body, it will answer a spiritual end to your soul.
“Tenthly. In praying, reading, hearing any person read, and meditating, do not consult feeble, fainting, weary flesh and blood; for, at this rate, death may find you idle, and supine, instead of striving to enter in at the strait gate; and, when your strength and vigour fail, remember that the Lord is the strength of your life and your portion for ever.”[[127]]
Not many even faithful ministers of Christ would have written in such a strain as this to a young lady, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, leaving her native land, and apparently dying; but Fletcher, like all the first Methodists, was intensely in earnest, and never thought of sacrificing fidelity for the sake of seeming courtesy.
The young lady’s father had given Fletcher a hamper of wine, and a parcel of broadcloth to be made into a suit of clothes, kindly requesting him not to send his coat again to be patched. In acknowledging this generous present, the needy and somewhat seedy Vicar wrote as follows:—
“Madeley, July —, 1766.
“My very dear Friend,—You should have a little mercy on your friends, in not loading them with such burdens of beneficence. How would you like to be loaded with kindnesses you could not return? Were it not for a little of that grace which makes us not only willing, but happy to be nothing, to be obliged and dependent, your present would make me quite miserable. I submit to be clothed and nourished by you, as your servants are, without the happiness of serving you. To yield to this is as hard to friendship as it is to submit to be saved by free grace, without one scrap of our own righteousness. However, we are allowed, both in religion and friendship, to ease ourselves by thanks and prayers, till we have an opportunity of doing it by actions. I thank you then, my dear friend, and pray to God that you may receive His benefits as I do yours.
“Your broadcloth can lap me round two or three times; but the mantle of Divine love, the precious fine robe of Jesus’s righteousness, can cover your soul a thousand times. The cloth, fine and good as it is, will not keep out a hard shower; but that garment of salvation will keep out even a shower of brimstone and fire. Your cloth will wear out; but that fine linen, the righteousness of saints, will appear with a finer lustre the more it is worn. The moth may fret your present, or the tailor may spoil it in cutting it; but the present, which Jesus has made you, is out of the reach of the spoiler, and ready for present wear. Let me beseech you, my dear friend, to accept of this heavenly present, as I accept of your earthly one. I did not send you one farthing to purchase it: it came unsought, unasked, unexpected, as the seed of the woman came. It came just as I was sending a tailor to buy me cloth for a new coat, and I hope when you next see me, it will be in your present; now let Jesus see you in His. Accept it freely. Wear no more the old rusty coat of nature and self-righteousness. Send no more to have it patched. Make your boast of an unbought suit, and love to wear the livery of Jesus.