to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." "Willing rather to be absent from the body;" "for it is better to depart, and be with Christ." Now when we know that it is expedient for our dearest friend to leave us for a distant region,-expedient on his own account; when we know that he would be a positive loser if we were to detain him, and a great gainer if we were to give him up; we are consoled in his absence, by the thought that the change is better for him. How cheerfully does the mother give up her son, the son whom she loves as her own soul, to go to distant India or elsewhere, when assured from competent authority, that there awaits him there a lucrative post of honour, which in a short time will probably rank him among the first and "richest men in all the East!" So is it, in a better sense, a sense infinitely more exalting,-with those of his children whom God calls into his presence by death. They have not only escaped from the pains and perils, the woes and weeping, of the nether world; but they have gained their long-sought reward, entered with Jesus into paradise, and are now found among "the blessed dead who die in the Lord." Therefore, drying up our selfish tears, and praising God on their behalf, let us follow their flight "with songs;" seeing "Our loss is their infinite gain." 2. Another consoling reflection ever present in Christian bereavement, is, In a better world the weeping bereaved will soon join the happy departed. "David said unto his servants, Is the child dead? And they said, He is dead. Then David arose from the earth, and washed and anointed himself, and changed his apparel, and came into the house of the Lord, and worshipped: then he came into his own house; and when he required, they set bread before him, and he did eat. Then said they unto him, What is this that thou hast done? thou didst fast and weep for the child, while he was alive; but when the child was dead, thou didst rise and eat bread. And he said, While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious unto me, that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back to me again? I shall go to him; but he shall not return to me." If we may not again look for the company of departed friends in our meaner abode below, we are satisfied by the assurance that we shall, at a period not at all distant, go and visit them in their brighter mansions above. The church triumphant is as social as the church militant. Here we begin our friendships with God, and with Christ and his people: there they are consummated. Sweet was our fellowship below. When we meet above, all perfect and all glorious, what heights of rapture shall we experience! How clear were the Apostle's views, and how unhesitating and animating his faith and hope, on this subject! "For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming? For ye are our glory and joy." He looked forward, not merely with unwavering assurance, but with the intensest pleasure, to his meeting with those in a future state who were the beloved fruits of his ministry, and "presenting " before the throne of God "every man," every one of his own children in the faith, "perfect," perfectly holy, and happy, and glorious, "in Christ Jesus." A portion of this lively joy, and the experience of St. Paul, is common to all believers, when called to contemplate the flight of their glorious friends, "borne by angels to Abraham's bosom." The shortness of the separation, and the bright prospect of renewed and improved friendship, if they do not wholly take away the bitterness of the cup, yet do they not only powerfully tend to neutralize its contents, but also to lessen the shock created by the pungency of its taste. It is especially in this view of bereavement, that Christians "sorrow not" for the dead, for them that sleep in Jesus," as others that have no hope." Do we sleep apart during the silent hours of the night? In "the morning," we shall meet again. 3. Is the wound still open? Is it still smarting? still weeping, bleeding, draining out life? O, is there no balm in Gilead? no Physician there? Yes, there is balm, a sovereign balm for every wound: it is inward religion, grace in the heart. It is the love of God, the love of Christ, the love of the Spirit, shed abroad within the breast. It is pardoning love, adopting love, sanctifying love; love that assimilates us to the Divine nature; love that spreads an infallible plaster of precious ointment over the whole extent of the terrible gash, and as an effectual charm removes all the pain. It is the touch of the finger of Jesus to the wound, which it heals by a power above nature, as in the miraculous touch to the swordcut, by which Peter smote off the ear of Malchus. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee." "Rejoice in the Lord alway, and again I say, Rejoice. Let your moderation be known unto all men; the Lord is at hand. Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God; and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace," like the placid waters in a secure ships'-dock, while the dreadful billows roll, and roar, and foam, in the adjacent unprotected sea : "keep," like the still air in a room replete with safety and comfort, while all is violent pressure and howling storm and tempest without. "The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds." In the midst of trials which would naturally raise storms of passionate anguish, and create hard thoughts of God, your heart and mind shall be kept in such a sweetly serene and peaceful state, as cannot be accounted for by the utmost stretch of the human understanding, without taking into the account that "through Jesus Christ," the believer enjoys the glorious refuge of the "power of God unto salvation." Certainly, the "three" noble-minded believers who submitted to be cast "bound into the midst of the burning fiery furnace," "upon whose bodies the fire had no power," and who came out of the consuming element with "not a hair of their head singed," must have presented a spectacle "passing all understanding." The indubitable fact is undeniable; but neither the Monarch, who cast them in, nor themselves, the undaunted sufferers, could understand it. All that can be said of it is, "they were kept by the power of God through faith;" for it was faith that quenched the violence of the fire." Even so, in the fiery trial of bereavement, the peace of God which passeth all understanding shall keep the heart and mind of the believer "through Christ Jesus." Shall keep yes, does keep; for there are individuals of this class, who, while in the furnace, can feelingly sing,— "To him mine eye of faith I turn, And through the fire pursue my way: The lambent flames around me play : I own his power, accept the sign, 4. Besides these consoling streams, flowing from the river which makes glad the city of God, there is yet another, broad and deep; to which the VOL. IV.-FOURTH SERIES. 2 N 66 mourner may be invited. It is contained in the sublime principle of that gracious declaration, "For we know that all things work together for good to them that love God." To the possessor of " pure religion," the real Christian mourner, whose great aim is to grow in grace, and glorify God in the earth, this promise, for such it is, “ 'great and precious," has even more in it to stimulate, strengthen, encourage, comfort, than all the former considerations taken together; inasmuch as personal piety is of all things the dearest and most momentous to the man of God. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart," is "the first and great commandment:" only second" to this is everything else. Now if "all things," all afflictions, (for it is affliction to which the "all things more particularly point,) if "all things work together for good," and bereavement, as asserted above, is the "bitterest," and therefore the most powerful, ingredient in the cup; then, if properly "received," "received," as Job says, at the hand of God," it must work for good, at the very point where "good" is most wanted; and that is in the heart. "The house of mourning" is the school of the heart. Every death is a lecture, a sermon; if not on the Mount, yet is it a domestic, a fire-side, sermon, by the great Teacher himself; a sermon on God and man, law and Gospel, sin and holiness, hell and heaven. Let us sit at the feet of Jesus, and try to profit by it. 66 (1.) One way by which this event profits the Christian is, it tends to bring him still nearer unto God. The stream fails, that we may be allured to drink at the fountain-head. The earthly friend is withdrawn, that the divine Friend may fill the place. God has created a vacuum in nature, that he may erect his own throne in the cleared space. In this solemn event, by which the noise of the world is hushed, do we not hear "the still small voice," saying, "Set your affections on things above, and not on things on the earth?" The friend who sat between you and Jesus having changed his position, your head, now unobstructed, reclines directly on your Saviour's bosom. This, surely, is gain. (2.) Another way in which it profits us is, by showing the superlative value of religion, as compared with all other sources of consolation. Our spiritual dulness and earthly tendencies make it necessary for us to receive daily lessons on this head. And in the most trying bereavements, how advantageous the light in which divine consolation appears! The worth of religion, acknowledged at all times, is now truly experienced; and her "price" demonstrated to be "above rubies." The open grave having swallowed up his earthly comfort, the man of God, forced into a new position, and pressed by new exigences, cannot help exclaiming, "Till this trial overtook me, I never so fully understood the truth and 'preciousness' of the promises,' I never so clearly knew the solid, inestimable worth of religion, or the vanity, emptiness, and utter insufficiency of the world." (3.) Heaven, too, the home of the saint, which it is his highest interest never to forget or lose sight of, becomes nearer and dearer to him by the loss of a friend. A lovely youth, then rising to maturity of stature, his own son, his first-born, just as he was triumphantly breathing out his soul into the hands of God, turned his eyes to the writer, and said, "Father, by my death, you will have another tie to heaven." Yes, my son; and now another family-member, not less dear, has joined thee there! Ah! ties to heaven! Yes for more treasure is there! Well, heaven is of such importance to man, that although the thread that binds him to it must needs be spun out of his own bowels, he is great gainer by the bond. Our abiding home, our eternal house, our undefiled inheritance, is there. It is our interest to think of it, to talk of it, to live habitually meet for, and in prospect of, entering on its enjoyment. Whatever increases our willingness to be absent from the body that we may be present with the Lord; whatever augments the desire to depart and be with Christ; whatever cuts a string that binds us to the dangers and troubles of an earthly residence; whatever gives us wings for the skies, and urges us to take flight to paradise; doubtless works for us, is employed in our service, promotes our interest, and does us real "good." Bereavement, Christian bereavement, the exit of a friend, dying in the Lord, does this. It turns our eyes upward; it wrenches from our grasp corruptible things, that we may lift up our empty hand and lay hold on the incorruptible, unfading crown of righteousness reserved in heaven for us. Kingswood. B. C. WESLEY PAPERS. No. XXXII. ORIGINAL LETTERS FROM THE REV. CHARLES WESLEY, TO MR. BLACKWELL, OF LONDON. COMMUNICATED BY THOMAS MARRIOTT, ESQ. Dublin, September 17th, 1747. DEAR SIR,-Can you stand safe on shore, and see us in the ship tossed with tempest, and not pity us? Let your compassion put you upon constant prayer for the little persecuted flock in this place. We live literally by (the prayer of) faith. The journal contains a few particulars. Please to let my brother have it when read.* Here are very many who long to hear the word, but are kept away by fear. Neither is their fear groundless; for, unless the jury find the bill against the rioters, murder there will surely be; and if it begin, it will not end with us. I cannot repent of my coming hither in such a dangerous season: nor am I very anxious about the coast. The hairs of my head are all numbered; and if my Master has more work for me, I shall certainly live to do it. You must send me a line of answer, and be very particular as to your own welfare, and that of your best earthly friend, and Mrs. Dewal. I often think of you all, and pray God to make us perfect in one. If the door should be opened here, you shall know further of our affairs. If we are only beat a little, (or a great deal,) it will not be worth your while. I have taken some pains to find out Mr. Moland on St. George's hill ; but no such person lives there. You will not forget my most affectionate respects to our friend at Lewisham. * Mr. John Wesley arrived at Dublin, August 9th, 1747, and his brother, September 8th. He spoke closely and strongly ; but none seemed to be offended. “It my brother and I," says he, "could have remained a few months, I question if there might not have been a larger society here than even in London itself. The Protestants, whether in Dublin, or elsewhere, are almost all transplanted from England. Nor is it any wonder that those who are born Papists generally live and die such, when the Protestants can find no better way to convert them than by penal laws and Acts of Parliament." On Mr. Charles Wesley's arrival, he found the little fluck in a storm of persecution, of which he here gives some account. The Lord keep up in you and increase that restless hunger after righteousness, till you are filled with all the fulness of God. Your affectionate friend and brother, To Mr. Blackwell, Banker, Exchange-Alley, London. C. WESLEY. In his Journal, under this date, he says, "I dined at Mr. Powell's, the printer,* who informed us that the jury have thrown out the bill. It was no surprise to me.”† Dublin, Saturday, October 10th, 1747. DEAR SIR,-I did not think of writing to you this post, having wrote at large to Mrs. Dewal; but am constrained by a strange interposition of Providence on our behalf. At my first coming here, I may truly say, no man stood with me; notwithstanding the Lord stood with me. We were so persecuted, that no one in Dublin would venture to let us an house or a room; but now their hearts are turned as in a moment, and we have the offer of several convenient places. Those who know me, may be sure I will do nothing on my own judgment, because, like Socrates, I know my own ignorance. But the learned in worldly matters assure us we have a very advantageous offer made us of an house and garden, of which I have wrote to my brother, and Mr. Perronet to his friends. If any of them, therefore, should bring you the purchase-money we have sent for, I must desire you to send me a bill for it immediately, as likewise for the twenty pounds. I shall make no apology for giving you all this trouble, having at all times and occasions found you so ready to help the helpless, and that for the best reason. If mine to you did not miscarry, I suppose your answer is now upon the road. I am a little impatient to know how your dearest earthly friend takes her loss; although I could not doubt her patience and resignation. The Lord sanctify all his dispensations to you, and bless you to each other, both in time and eternity. It would be a real satisfaction to me to have a line from you now and then, which I would return you twenty for one. God has laid you both on my heart, and I rejoice in the hope of meeting you, on the other side of time. It seems long to that day, and nothing could make life tolerable, but our seeing the travail of our soul, the pleasure of the Lord prospering in our hand. O, my dear friend, work for God, before the night cometh. Labour for the meat that endureth to life eternal. With all thy gettings get wisdoin. Make friends of the mammon of unrighteousness. Lay up treasure in heaven. Let the Master when he cometh find you watching. Forget not to pray for your faithful and affectionate C. WESLEY. Dublin, October 29th, 1747. MY DEAR FRIENd and Brother,―The peace of God be with you and your bosom friend, and all that are near and dear to you! I found you very near me in reading your last, and had great power given me to pray for you, *He printed a collection of Hymns, published by John and Charles Wesley. Dublin, 1749. Price Threepence, pp. 36. + Jackson's Life of Charles Wesley, vol. i., p. 475. Near Dolphin's-Barn, which he purchased. See Whitehead, vol. i., p. 319; and Jackson's Life of Charles Wesley, vol. i., p. 477. |