John Wesley faithfully kept to his resolution that his marriage should not be any obstacle in the way of his preaching. We find that his incessant journeys continued as before, from Scotland to the Land’s End, from Sussex to the West of Ireland. When we read how it seemed a matter of perfect indifference to him that it should hail, rain, or snow, blow hurricanes, or turn to sultry heat, we can scarcely wonder that his wife found it simply impossible to travel about with him. That he should have to sleep in a cellar where there was a window that would not open seems to be the only hardship that he objected to, but he tells us he made it quite comfortable by breaking a pane of paper which had been put in instead of glass. It does not seem wonderful that at last, in the year 1753, his health began to fail, and when the cold autumn weather came, as he went on traveling about and preaching, in spite of illness, he became so much worse, that he and others thought that his time would be very short.
He was ordered by the doctor to preach no more, and to leave off writing, for he had spent much time in writing books, as well as in preaching. Wesley however turned a deaf ear to the doctor. He could not preach, but he continued to write, rising at four, and writing from five in the morning till nine at night, except that he took an hour to ride, half an hour for each meal, and one hour’s rest in the evening, from five to six. He also explained the scriptures to those who came to his house every evening. During this time of rest from preaching, he was at Bristol with his wife. Thinking he was dying he wrote the epitaph of “John Wesley, a brand plucked out of the burning.” He did this lest any words of praise should be put on his tombstone.
As the spring of 1754 came on, he got better, and returned to London, and at the end of March again began to preach, and to ride from place to place for that purpose. During his illness he had been obliged to travel in “the machine.” I would describe to you, if I could, what “the machine” was like. I imagine it was a sort of stage-coach. Very soon we find him journeying all over the country on horseback, as before, through all weathers, and preaching to crowds numerous as ever. We hear, however, less of mobs and riots. The Cornish people especially, had not only become quiet and well-behaved, but their desire to hear the gospel seems to have been very great. “The lions,” said John Wesley. “are changed into lambs.” This was, perhaps, partly owing to the preaching and teaching of good Mr. Walker, the clergyman of Truro.
In any case, Wesley now found that he was received in Cornwall with joy and affection. Nor is he now forgotten there. Go where you will through the Cornish villages, the name of John Wesley is still everywhere to be heard. If you go into the little whitewashed cottages, half buried in fuchsias and hydrangeas, it is almost certain you will see the picture of John Wesley on the wall. The miners still sing the hymns of Charles Wesley as they go about their work, for he, too, had been much amongst them, and his hymns seem to have been a great means of making the gospel known. John wrote but few hymns, but Charles wrote an immense number. He was composing hymns whenever he rode about the country, and in his long journeys had plenty of time for this.
About the year 1756 Charles Wesley began to leave off his wandering life, and to live at home with his family. He then chiefly occupied himself in writing, and in preaching near home. Meantime, the number of Methodist preachers had greatly increased, and by them the gospel was carried into every corner of Great Britain and Ireland. It is wonderful to read of the labors and sufferings of these men. Though John Wesley, being well-known, often met with friends where formerly he had only found raging mobs, these latter preachers had to meet with the fiercest persecution. It would be endless to tell you of their many adventures, their ceaseless perils, and terrible sufferings. The amount of labor, too, which they were able to endure seems almost beyond belief. We read of Alexander Mather, a baker, who took but eight hours in the week for sleep, for, as he preached a great part of the day, he had to work nearly all night. His first preaching journey was 150 miles on foot. Another, John Pritchard, during one winter and spring, walked 1200 miles, preaching the glad tidings. It was, of course, very seldom that they could travel in any other way than on foot, being most of them poor working men, who went forth only because the Lord had laid it on their hearts to make Christ known to lost sinners. Some, as we have seen, were clergymen, but of these few made long journeys. They preached chiefly, like Mr. Grimshaw, round their own villages.