GOWNSMEN BUT GODSMEN; THE HOLY CLUB.
“When a kindred soul I find,
Oh, never, never, let us part.”
“Hope must brighten days to come,
While memory gilds the past.”
“GLAD to see you, Mr. Whitfield! Come in, dear friend! Welcome to the Holy club!
I congratulate you upon daring to be associated with the despised Methodists.”
The speaker, John Wesley, now a fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, advanced to meet the young man who came timidly into the room. Poor and despised by many who had no claim to notice but their wealth derived from others, George Whitfield glanced from face to face, and the kindly welcome that he read upon each countenance at once put him at his ease.
“You know my brother, Charles; Mr. Henry, you know," said John Wesley. "Come, friends, to breakfast! George Whitfield will soon feel at home with us.”
But, noticing that the new corner was silent and slightly reserved, John Wesley addressed him kindly.
“Friend George, it is twenty-six years ago since, by God's mercy, I was taken like a brand from the burning. I well remember awaking and seeing the light of the flames; I thought that it was morning. I can recall the whole scene as vividly as if it were only yesterday. But I have had many mercies since that period.”
“I should like to hear of them," said Whitfield. "I have a long time wished to know you intimately.”
“In 1714 I went to London," said Wesley, "and entered as a gownboy at the Charterhouse. Dear old school, how I loved it! The pictures on the walls; almost every stone of the building was precious to me. But the elder boys served us little folk badly. They took our food, so that for nearly four years I had scarcely any food but bread; and no bad food either and more than I deserved. I think it was because of this abstinence, and of my obeying my father's command to run round the school garden three times every morning, that I am as well as I am now. I came to Oxford in 1720, and one incident taught me a lesson. My father had rendered a service to the much-talked-of Dr. Sacheverell, and I called upon the great man, at my father's wish, to secure his interest. He was as tall as a Maypole, and as proud as a peacock. He looked upon me with contempt, because I was small in stature. He said, You are too young to enter the University. You cannot know Greek and Latin yet. Go back to school.' I looked at him and thought, If I did not know Greek and Latin better than you do, I should go to school indeed."'
“What a pity that people should take pleasure in giving pain!" remarked Whitfield. "But one often sees that kind of spirit in those who might be a great help to others!”
“I was far from strong then," continued Wesley, his expressive features beaming kindly upon his new friend." Upon one occasion my nose bled so profusely while out walking, that I could only stop the bleeding by taking off my clothes and plunging into the river. I was very poor in spiritual life; very poor 1 Alas! I had not yet attained to my hope in Christ. I well remember the porter of our college coming to my room and wishing to talk with me. I laughed at him, and bade him go home and get another coat. I have no other coat, but I thank God for this,' said he. Well then,' said I, go home and have your supper.' I have had but a drink of water all day,' replied the man. 'Thank God for that.' 'What would you do if you were locked out,' continued L Thank God that I can lie upon the dry stones,' he said. Why' said I, was there ever such a fellow? You thank God when you have nothing to eat, little to wear, and no bed to lie upon. What else do you thank God for?' But, oh, it was good to hear that man say, I thank God that He has given me life and being; and, especially, that I have a heart to love Him and a desire to serve Him.' I felt that there must be something in the man's religion to yield him such solid peace under such distressing circumstances.”
“I have observed," remarked James Henry, "that the poor, so far as worldly things are concerned, are often eminent for piety; indeed, I have sometimes thought that the more God takes away from us, the more enjoyable what mercy He leaves becomes.”
“In 1725," continued Wesley, "I began to study Thomas a Kempis and Taylor's ' Holy Living,' and much increase of spiritual desire I experienced from the influence of the two books. It was while I was seeking light for myself that God permitted me the joy of leading a friend to a saving knowledge of Himself. We stood together watching a funeral; and it was laid upon my heart with power to speak to him about his soul. Thank God I did not speak in vain.”
“Would God that we were all more faithful in speaking to our friends and acquaintances," put in Whitfield, timidly. "Oh, to be bold for Christ! “Amen!" said Wesley. “We should be so. Our very calling means this. When in 1725 I was ordained a priest, Dr. Hayward, the Bishop's chaplain, said to me: Do you know what you are about? You are bidding defiance to all mankind. He that would live as a Christian priest ought to know that whether his hand be against every man or no, he must expect every man's hand against him.'”
“You found it to be so?' remarked Broughton, another member of the Holy club.
“Yes, I did," continued Wesley. "After I became a fellow of my college, in March, 1726, I experienced much divine help. I longed to do God's will, but it was difficult to be a Christian in Christ Church. When I became a fellow here I found myself among quite another set. It was a fresh start in serving God. In August, 1727, I went for two years to Wroote, near Epworth, but I was called back here, as you know, to my fellowship. I took pupils then to eke out my income, but since my return from Lincolnshire I have been greatly delighted with the society of these dear brethren.”
“In 1730 we began the visitations of the poor and prisoners," said Kirkham. "Morgan, you were our leader in this good work.”
“And a blessed enterprise it has been for us," said Wesley." Who among us regrets surrendering his own comforts for the benefit of the poor? I had one lesson from a poor girl we supported at school. ‘Have you no other covering than that thin linen gown?' I asked her. None, sir,' she replied. How her thin white face was pinched with the cold What right have I to spend God's money upon my own comfort when what has covered my hall would have kept this poor creature from the cold?”
“Would that all Christians would regard their wealth as a loan, for which they must give an account to God," said Berridge; "only a talent lent to be used.”
“To be of use is the chief thing in the Christian life," observed George Whitfield. "One man may by his money serve God; others must help in other modes. I think that to attempt the form of usefulness possible to us is the chief thing after all.”
“That is so," replied Wesley. "For that reason I refused to go to Epworth. When my father was becoming too feeble for his work he much wished me to come and take the rectory and keep the house, which for forty years had been our home. But I felt that it was of greater importance to sweeten the fountain than any subordinate streams. So I decided to stay here.”
“He died only last year, did he not? asked Kirkham." How old was he?”
“Seventy-two," replied Wesley. "'The inward witness,' said he to me, when visiting my dear father for the last time; 'the inward witness, son, the inward witness; this is a strong proof of Christianity.' To Charles he said: The weaker I am in body, the stronger and more sensible support I feel from God.' I asked him, Sir, are you in much pain I' With a smile he replied, God does chasten me with pain; yea, all my bones with strong pain. But I thank Him for all; I bless Him for all; I love Him for all.'
“Do you remember, brother John, what he also said to me?" said Charles Wesley. "Be steady,' said he, ' be steady. The Christian faith will surely revive in this kingdom; you shall see it, but I shall not.'”
“Pray God it may speedily," said Whitfield; "for belief in God seems quite died out in England. No one believes in the Gospel, and the wickedness of the people is fearful.”
A few months after this conversation at the Holy club, John and Charles Wesley sailed as missionaries to Georgia. On the 21st October, 1735, they left the shores of England for America. The voyage was to be of the deepest importance to the travelers and to the Church of God, but, as yet, neither of the Wesleys knew why or whither God was leading them.
The long period of barrenness was to be succeeded by a return of rain; the Elijah was to be trained for the encounter with Ahab and the priests of Baal