NELSON hoped that this preaching of Whitefield’s might at last be the message from God to his soul. He went to hear him. I will tell you what he says of it: “Mr. Whitefield was to me as a man who could play well on an instrument, for his preaching was pleasant to me, and I loved the man, so that if anyone offered to disturb him, I was ready to fight for him. But I did not understand him, though I might hear him twenty times, for aught I know. Yet I got some hope of mercy, so that I was encouraged to pray on, and spend my leisure hours in reading the bible. Sometimes as I was reading, I thought, ‘If what I read is true, and if none are Christians but such as St. John and St. Paul describe to be God’s people, I don’t know any person that is a Christian, either in town or country, and as for myself, I am no more a Christian than the devil,’ and my hope of ever being one was very small.”
So poor John went on, spending sad days and sleepless nights, till the morning came when John Wesley preached his first sermon in Moorfields. You shall hear John Nelson’s account of it: ― “Oh!” he says, “that was a blessed morning to my soul. As soon as Mr. Wesley got upon the stand, he stroked back his hair, and turned his face towards where I stood, and, I thought, fixed his eyes upon me. His countenance struck such an awful dread upon me, before I heard him speak, that it made my heart beat like the pendulum of a clock, and when he did speak, I thought his whole discourse was aimed at me. When he had done, I said, ‘This man can tell the secrets of my heart. He hath not left me there, for he hath showed the remedy, even the blood of Jesus.’ Then was my soul filled with consolation, through hope that God, for Christ’s sake, would save me.” It was still only a hope, but till now poor John Nelson had not had even that. So he took courage, and he says: ― “I continued to hear Mr. Wesley as often as I could, without neglecting my work.” It was right of him not to neglect his work. People whose consciences are really awakened, will be careful about such a thing as that. But, in spite of this, his fellow-workmen told him that Mr. Wesley’s preaching would make him quite unfit for his business. They said, “We wish you had never heard-him, for it will be the ruin of you.” John told them he had reason to bless God that ever Mr. Wesley was born, to which they replied, in their rough way, that they were very sorry for him, and should be glad to knock Mr. Wesley’s brains out, for he would be the ruin of many families. Some of them said they would not hear him preach for. ₤50. It would be well if all such men would be equally determined not to go to public houses, which really are the ruin of many families, but it is one of the proofs how utterly foolish, as well as sinful, the heart of man is, that they thus call darkness light, and light darkness.
John bore all their abuse for a time, but at last his temper gave way. “Everyone tries to provoke me,” he thought, “and I can’t bear it. Perhaps I had better give it all up and go back to my old ways.” But God saw the trials and difficulties of the poor stonemason, and sent him a word in season. As he came one day out of St. James’s Park into Westminster, there walked before him a party of soldiers and some Welshwomen, who were talking earnestly. One soldier spoke so loud, that John, as he followed, could hear all he said. “None of you,” said the soldier to his companions, “pitied me sonic months ago, though I was going headlong to the devil. I was a drunkard and swearer, a fighter, a. Sabbath-breaker, and a gamester, and I don’t know any sin that I was not guilty of, either in word or deed, so that it is a miracle that my neck was not brought to the gallows, and my soul sent to hell long ago.” Then the soldier went on to tell how he had heard Mr. John Wesley preach on Kennington Common, and how he had tried to turn from his sins, but his old companions had dragged him off to an ale-house, and he had given way, and got tipsy, and left off praying. But he had determined to go once more to hear Mr. Charles Wesley, and there and then the grace of God had reached his heart: he had believed in the precious blood of Christ, and was saved. These words encouraged John Nelson, and though soon after he again lost his temper and went into a passion, he still felt the hope that there was mercy in Christ even for him. So instead of going to his dinner, he went up to his room, shut the door, and knelt down to pray. But the more he prayed, the more he felt that his case was hopeless. Twice he knelt down and prayed earnestly. The third time, in utter despair, he knelt down, and to his great dismay he found he could not pray any more. “I could not,” he says, “say a word if it would have saved my soul. I was dumb as a beast.” Poor man, God was taking away the last prop on which he had been leaning. And now when he could not even ask for mercy, the Holy Ghost brought brightly and clearly before his mind the blessed truth that Christ had borne his punishment, and that his sins were all put away. “Christ,” he says, “was as plainly set before the eye of my mind, as crucified for me, as if I had seen Him with my bodily eyes.” From this happy day John Nelson was a new creature. He had to suffer for it very soon, for his landlady turned him out of doors because, she said, she “could not have such a fuss made about religion in her house.” But when John went back to fetch something he had left behind, he found that the woman’s husband was filled with sorrow for having turned him out, and said, “If God has done anything more fat you than he has for us, tell us how we may fine the same mercy.” So John sat down and tole them: of Christ, and persuaded them to go to the preaching. They both went, and were saved. Next came a complaint from John’s master, because John had refused to work on Sunday. The master said he would employ him no more, and that his wife and children would then have to suffer for his folly. John said, “I would rather see them beg their bread bare-footed to heaven than drive in a coach to hell.” The master swore at him, and said, “I have a worse opinion of you now than ever,” to which John replied, “Master, I have the odds of you, for I have a much worse opinion of myself than you can have.” He was surprised after this that hip master sent for him again, and gave him employment as before. “When a man’s ways please the Lord, He maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him.”
After a while John set off to return to his wife in Yorkshire. He had only once seen John Wesley to speak to, but they were to meet again as you will hear by and bye. At present I will only tell you that when John got back to Yorkshire he had anything but a warm welcome from his family. They said they would be ashamed to show their faces in the street if he persisted in telling people his sins were forgiven. They had never heard of such a thing in their lives. John’s old mother said, “Why, lad, your head is turned.” “Yes, mother,” he said, “and my heart, too, thank the Lord.” His wife said she wished he had stayed in London, for she couldn’t live with him if he went on saying people needed to be converted. John said he was sorry for it, for he loved her better than ever, and would always do all he could to provide for her. “If thou wilt not go to heaven with me, Martha,” he said, “I will still do the best I can for thee, only I will not go to hell with thee for company.
But I believe God will hear my prayer, and convert thy soul, and make thee a blessed companion for me in the way to heaven.” You will be glad to hear John’s prayer was answered, and Martha became a bright, happy Christian.
We will now leave John doing the best he could to make known the gospel in Yorkshire, and go back to London, where we left John Wesley preaching in Moorfields.
In the afternoon of the day when John Nelson first heard him, he preached to 15,000 people on Kennington Common. This was on Sunday. The next day he returned to Bristol, having only spent five days in London. Charles and Mr. Whitefield went on preaching whilst he was away. At Bristol, and in the country round, and at the large towns of Gloucestershire and Somersetshire, the multitudes continued to come, and numbers, it would appear, believed the gospel. Wesley returned to London in August, having been absent about two months. Again the crowds gathered on Kennington Common and in Moorfields, sometimes to the number of 20,000.
But I must now tell you of something which gave John Wesley the greatest joy. The very day after he returned to London, his mother told him that till within the last few months she had scarce heard such a thing mentioned as our having forgiveness of sins now, much less did she imagine that this was what God desired all His people to know. “Therefore,” she said, “I never durst, ask it for myself. But two or three weeks ago, when I heard the words spoken ‘The Blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee,’ the words struck through my heart, and I knew God, for Christ’s sake, had forgiven me all my sins.” This was indeed happy news for John. His mother now began to go with him to the preaching’s. Her doubts and fears were gone, and she thanked God for the blessed work He was doing by her two sons. Besides preaching out of doors, Wesley had many meetings in the rooms of the societies, especially at the room in Fetter Lane, in the City of London. To this little meeting a lady came, of whom you will hear a good deal by and bye. But I will first tell you a little of the London life of ladies in those days, that you may understand how strange a thing it was that any of them should find their way to this little Methodist meeting.
We find in an old book written in those times a sad account of the manner in which the days were spent by both ladies and gentlemen. The ladies, we are told, “seldom rise till noon, and the first part of their time is spent either at the tea-table (which must have been a sort of late breakfast) or in dressing, unless they take a turn to Covent Garden or Ludgate Hill, and tumble over the mercer’s rich silks, or view some India or China trifle, some prohibited manufacture, oi foreign lace.”
F. B.