FLETCHER'S DELIVERANCES. 373 his own feet; and he was astonished to learn that from that time the man, though then perfectly well, wasted away, and he soon had to bury him in the very spot where this conversation took place (p. 79). He gave to John Wesley an account of his once bathing in the Rhine, and being carried away by the current, and drawn under a mill. That he struck against one of the piles, and lost all consciousness, and when he recovered it, found himself on the shore, five miles below the spot at which he had entered, but free from any soreness or weariness. A gentleman, amongst others, who had seen him disappear under the mill, said that he was under the water twenty minutes. But some will say, 'Why, this was a miracle!' 'Undoubtedly,' observes Mr. Wesley. It was not a natural event, but a work wrought above the power of nature, probably by the ministry of angels' (p. 7). Whilst Mr. Fletcher presided over the college at Trevecca, he had many journeys to make. One day, as he was riding over a wooden bridge, just as he got to the middle of it, it broke in. The mare's fore-legs sank into the river, but the body was kept up by the bridge. In that position she lay as still as if she had been dead, till he got over her neck, and took off his bags, in which were several manuscripts, the spoiling of which would have occasioned him much trouble. He then endeavoured to raise her up; but she would not stir till he went over to the other side of the bridge. But no sooner did he set his foot upon the ground, than she began to plunge. Immediately the remaining part of the bridge broke down, and sank with her into the river. But presently she rose up again, swam out, and came to him (p. 83). Incidents like these the cold, logical professor of a traditionary Christianity, always struggling against the vitality of the gospel, will reason quietly away as mere curious occurrences; but the early leaders of Methodism, in my opinion, more truly set them down as providential acts in the case of God's servants. There are many other passages in all the lives of the early Methodists which relate spiritual revelations and impressions which mere theoretic professors would smile at as fancies and enthusiasm. All vital Christians, however, of whatever church, have found them as real as any other circumstances of their lives. The language of the early Methodists is strikingly like that of the early Quakers in many particulars. They continually say they are ‘impressed' so and so. Mr. Fletcher says, that on one occasion, when quite awake, he had a very clear and palpable vision of Christ on His cross. On another occasion, he heard a divine voice speaking to him in an inexpressibly awful sound.' At another time he had, like Moses, a supernatural discovery of the glory of God, and had an ineffable converse with Him; whether in the body or out of the body, he could not tell. Many impressions of the presence of the Holy Spirit were felt by him in an extraordinary manner. One dark and wet night, he being in the country on a preaching journey, Mrs. Fletcher had a sudden vision of her husband being thrown over the head of his horse, which had fallen. The scene was clear to her eyes. She commended him to God, and immediately peace flowed into her soul. When he at length arrived, he called for water to wash, proceeding to relate exactly what she had seen (p. 338). One morning Mr. Fletcher had set out into the country to visit an eminently pious clergyman. When he had walked several miles, he saw a great crowd collected at the door of a house, and found that a poor woman and child were dying. The woman had been only recently confined; she appeared very near death; and little better was the case of the infant, which was convulsed from head to foot. The room was filled with people. He spoke with them of the power of God to forgive sins and raise the dead: and he then prayed that He would save both the sufferers and the spectators. Whilst he prayed, the child's convulsions ceased, and the mother became easy, then cheerful, then strong. The people were amazed, and stood speechless, and almost senseless! SPIRITUAL INTERVENTION. 375 Whilst they were in this state, he silently withdrew. When they came to themselves, he was gone. Many of them asked, 'What could it be?' Some said, 'Certainly it was an angel' (p. 290). On one occasion Mr. Fletcher was seized with a strange confusion. As he ascended the pulpit, his sermon and the very text vanished from his memory, and he thought he should have to descend without saying anything. But on reading the first lesson, the third chapter of Daniel, containing the account of the three worthies being cast into the fiery furnace, his mouth was opened, and he preached on the subject in a manner extraordinary to himself. He believed there was some cause for it, and desired that, if it applied in any way to anyone present, they would let him know. On the following Wednesday he was informed that a butcher had threatened to cut his wife's throat if she persisted in going to Mr. Fletcher's church. That Sunday she had been in great terror, but resolved, notwithstanding, to go. Her husband said that, if she did go, he would not cut her throat, but that he would heat the oven, and throw her in the moment she came home. The sermon was singularly applicable to her case; she gathered courage, and firmly believed that she too should be delivered from the savage wrath of her husband. When she opened the door, to her astonishment, her husband was sitting in a remarkably subdued mood, and the very next Sunday he himself accompanied her to church, and received the sacrament. Mr. Fletcher adds that the man's good impressions did not remain, but that he himself saw why his sermon had been taken from him (p. 336). Like many good men, this eminent servant of God had a clear announcement of his approaching death by impression. His wife writes,' About two months ago he came to me and said, "My dear love, I know not how it is, but I have a strange impression that death is near us, as if it were in some sudden stroke upon one of us, and it draws all my soul in prayer, that we may be ready." The intimation was not long in being fulfilled. He was contemplating a journey to London, but during prayer, when seeking light upon the subject, the answer was, "Not to London, but to thy grave." He was seized with a shivering in his pulpit, and remarked on returning home that he had taken cold. It was the commencement of his last illness.' Such were the first founders of Methodism. Men who restored religion in a most remarkable manner, and to a most splendid extent, by boldly asserting the present and eternal vitality of the power and divine gifts of the church. Their success was a proof of the truth of their doctrine. Obeying that doctrine, they became the witnesses of it to the modern world as the apostles had been to the ancient one. In this fact lies a great subject of reflection; a warning to the professors of all phases of Christianity to let its ancient spirit work. I CHAPTER XIX. BÖHME, SWEDENBORG, AND IRVING. I am acquainted with holy mysteries, which the Lord Himself hath ALLOCATE these three spiritualists together merely for convenience. Böhme and Swedenborg have features in common, but vaster differences; Irving is rather a frank admitter of spiritualism and mediumship than a medium himself. All have alike excited the wonder and ridicule of those indoctrinated to stand still, and all have left traces more or less deep, more or less extensive in the substance of human life. Seul Dieu,' says Michelet, 'est assez Dieu pour protéger ce qui n'est autre que la pensée de Dieu même.' The eloquent Vinet says too, 'No experiences prevent all such truths from being combated, and their first witnesses from passing for madmen. At the head of each of those movements which have promoted the elevation of the human race, what do we see? In the estimation of the world, madmen. And the contempt they have attracted by their folly has always been proportioned to the grandeur of their enterprise, and the generosity of their intentions. The true heroes of humanity have always been crowned by that insulting epithet. And the man who to-day, in a pious enthusiasm, or yet more to please the world, celebrates those men whose glory lies in having dared to despise the world, would, during their lives, have, perhaps, been associated with their persecutors. He honours them, not because they are worthy |