REV. JAMES HERVEY, M.A., THE LITERARY PARISH-PRIEST.

James Hervey, with great appropriateness, was designated by Charles Wesley, the “Isocrates” of the Oxford Methodists.[141] The old Greek rhetorician was not an orator; the weakness of his voice and his natural timidity prevented that; but the polish of his style in writing and the harmonious construction of his sentences obtained for him a fame which seems to be undying. And so in regard to Hervey. He lacked Whitefield’s eloquence, and Wesley’s constructive faculty; but he had a peculiar mental quality, which invested his productions with an air of gracefulness beyond the power of either of his friends to imitate. Critics, great and small, genuine and pretentious, have condemned Hervey’s style; and yet, notwithstanding this, few books have passed through more editions than his have done; and, after the lapse of a hundred years since their author’s death, few are greater favourites at the present day. Why is this? Perhaps some of his censors can answer the question.

James Hervey, like the Wesleys and Gambold, was the son of a country clergyman. He was born at Hardingstone, near Northampton, on the 26th of February, 1714; his father holding the two neighbouring livings of Weston-Favel and Collingtree. His ancestors appear to have been highly respectable. One of them was a judge; another had been member of Parliament for the town of Northampton; and the patronage of the above-mentioned livings had been, for many years, in the possession of the family.

Until the age of seven, Hervey was under the tuition of his mother. He then became a day-scholar in the free grammar school at Northampton, where he displayed great dexterity in the usual gymnastic exercises of boys like himself; and where, in the course of ten years, he learned enough of the Latin and Greek languages, to enable him to matriculate at the Oxford University. His progress, however, would probably have been greater than what it was, had it not been for the execrable conduct of his master, who determined that no one in the school should learn faster than his own stupid son. “Hervey himself told me,” says Mr. Ryland, “that his master never made but one remark in reading the Greek Testament, and that was a very foolish one.”

When only a boy, seventeen years of age, Hervey, full of youthful frolic, left the quietude of his father’s house for the animated scenes, the high advantages, and peculiar dangers of collegiate life. It was something infinitely more sacred than an accident which led to his admission into Lincoln College, where Wesley was a fellow and a tutor, and where, for the last two years, the Methodists had frequently held their meetings.[142]

The effects of the idleness enforced upon him at the Northampton free grammar school, were felt at Oxford. It was difficult for a sprightly and clever boy, like Hervey, to lay aside, all at once, the unstudious habits of the last ten years, and to devote himself, with unflagging earnestness, to the academical pursuits which now demanded his attention. For two years, from 1731 to 1733, he was idle at Oxford, as he had been obliged to be idle at Northampton. At the end of that time, he became acquainted with the Methodists, and distinguished himself, as they also did, by his devotion to the duties of religion, and to his collegiate studies. Wesley rendered him considerable assistance, especially by giving him instructions in the Hebrew language.

“Oxon, Sept. 2, 1736. I hereby thank you, as for all other favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew.”

Thus wrote Hervey, at the age of twenty-two, when he had taken his degree of Bachelor of Arts, and was leaving the university to enter upon the duties of the Christian ministry. Eleven years afterwards, when in the midst of the fame arising from the recent publication of his “Meditations among the Tombs,” etc., he wrote to Wesley another letter:—

“Weston, near Northampton, December 30, 1747.

“Assure yourself, dear sir, that I can never forget the tender-hearted and generous Fellow of Lincoln, who condescended to take such compassionate notice of a poor under-graduate, whom almost everybody condemned; and when no man cared for my soul.”[143]

Here we pause, to take a glance at Hervey during his five years’ residence at Oxford. John Gambold, writing of him, while he was still at college, says:—

“He is a man of surprising greatness of soul; and, if you look for his virtues, you will not be able to discover them one by one, but you will see that he walks before God with a reverence and alacrity which includes them all.”[144]

Hervey became one of the Oxford Methodists in 1733, when he was only nineteen years of age. In the same year, he wrote as follows to his sister:—

“Lincoln College, Oxon, Sept. 16, 1733.

“Dear Sister,—Was there any occasion to apologize for the serious purport of this, it would be sufficient to direct you to the date,[145] and the time of its inditing, but I promise myself, that, to you anything of this nature will be unnecessary; for, though we are in the very prime and spring of our years, strongly disposed to admire, and perfectly capacitated to relish the gaieties of youth, yet we have been inured to moderate the warmth of our appetites, accustomed to anticipate in our minds the days of darkness, and incessantly disciplined into a remembrance of our Creator. For my part, I find no season so proper to address one of the principal sharers of my heart, one of my nearest and dearest relations, as that I have at present chose and made use of, when either an universal silence composes the soul, and calms every turbulent emotion, or the voice of joy and gladness, speaking through celestial music, invites to adore the wonders of our Redeemer’s love, touches upon the strings of the softest passions, and inspires the most sweet, most tender sentiments.

“As I was the other day traversing the fields in quest of health, I observed that they had lost that profusion of fragrant odours which once perfumed the air, and were disrobed of that rich variety of curious dyes which surpassed even Solomon in all his glory. Not a single flower appears to gladden the sight, to bespangle the ground, or enamel the barren landscape. The clouds, that recently distilled in dews of honey, or poured themselves forth in showers of fatness, now combine in torrents to overflow the lifeless earth, and to bury or sweep away all the faint footsteps of ancient beauty. The hills, that were crowned with corn the valleys that laughed and sung under loads of golden grain, in a word, the whole face of nature, that so lately rejoiced for the abundance of her plenty, is become bare, naked, and disconsolate. As I was continuing my walk, and musing on this joyless scene, methought, the sudden change exhibited a lively picture of our frail and transitory state; methought, every object that occurred seemed silently to forewarn me of my own future condition.

“I dwelt on these considerations till they fermented in my fancy, and worked themselves out in such-like expressions: ‘What! must we undergo so grievous an alteration? We, whose sprightly blood circulates in brightest tides? We, who are the favourites of time, on whom youth, and health, and strength, shed their selectest influence? We, who are so apt to look upon ourselves as exempt from cares, or pains, or troubles, and privileged to drink in the sweets of life without restraint, without alloy? Must we forego the sunshine of our enjoyments for anything resembling this melancholy gloom? Must the sparkling eye set in haggard dimness? the lovely features and glowing cheeks be obscured by pale deformity? Must soft and gay desires be banished from our breasts, or mirth and jollity from our conversation? Must the vigour of our age fall away like water that runneth apace, and the blissful minutes of the prime of our years vanish like a dream? If this be our case, in vain do we boast of our superior felicity. In vain do we glory in being the darlings of heaven. The inanimate creation droop indeed, sicken and languish, for a time; but quickly revive, rejoice, and again shine forth in their brightest lustre. It is true, they relinquish, at the approach of winter, their verdant honours; but rest fully assured of receiving them with interest from the succeeding spring. But man, when he has passed the autumn of his maturity,—when he has once resigned himself into the cold embraces of age,—bids a long, an eternal adieu to all that is entertaining, amiable, or endearing. No pleasing expectations refresh his mind; not the least dawnings of hope glimmer in to qualify the darksome looking-for of Death.’

“I had not long indulged these bitter reflections before I espied a remedy for those sore evils which occasioned them. Though I perceived all our passionate delights to be vanity, and the issue of them vexation of spirit; yet I saw, likewise, that virtue was substantial, and her fruits joy and peace;—that, though all things come to an end, the ways of wisdom were exceeding broad. The seeds of piety, if implanted in our tender breasts, duly cherished, and constantly cultivated, will bud and blossom even in the winter of our days; and, when white and red shall be no more,—when all the outward embellishments of our little fabric shall disappear,—this will still flourish in immortal bloom.

“To walk humbly with our God, dutifully with our parents, and charitably with all, will be an inexhaustible source of never-ceasing comforts. What, though we shall sometimes be unable to hear the voice of singing men and singing women,—though all the senses prove false to their trust, and refuse to be any longer inlets of pleasure,—it is now, dear sister, it is now in our power to make such happy provisions as even then, in those forlorn circumstances, may charm our memories with ravishing recollections, and regale all our faculties with the continual feast of an applauding conscience. What sweet complacency, what unspeakable satisfaction shall we reap from the contemplation of an uninterrupted series of spotless actions! No present uneasiness will prompt us impatiently to wish for our dissolution, nor anxious fears for futurity make us immoderately dread the impending stroke. All will be calm, easy, and serene. All will be soothed by this precious, this invaluable thought, that, by reason of the meekness, the innocence, the purity, and other Christian graces which adorned the several stages of our progress through the world, our names and our ashes will be embalmed; the chambers of our tomb consecrated into a paradise of rest; and our souls, white as our locks, by an easy transition, become angels of light.

“I am, with love to my brother, dear sister, your most affectionate brother,

“James Hervey.”

This letter has been inserted without abridgment, 1. Because, it evinces, that, even while in his teens, Hervey cultivated that flowingly harmonious style, which was one of the chief characteristics of all his publications. And, 2. Because, it is thoroughly unevangelical, and, in spirit, such as might be naturally expected from an Oxford Methodist seeking salvation by his own good works. 3. It was written at the time when Hervey first united himself with Wesley and his Pharisaic friends.

There are several other letters, written during the years of Hervey’s collegiate life; but, for want of space, they can be only sparingly employed:—

(To his sister.)

“Lincoln College, Oxon, March 28, 1734.

“Dear Sister,—My fancy has often took its flight to Hardingstone, and delighted itself with the imaginary conversation of you and my other dear relatives. I have frequently recollected, and, as it were, acted over again in my mind the many pleasing hours we have spent together in reading holy and edifying books, or discoursing on pious and useful subjects.

“There is great reason for congratulation, on account of your being so choice a favourite of heaven, as your frequent sicknesses, and often infirmities speak you to be. How does the goodness of our gracious Father endeavour, by the repeated, though lightest, strokes of His rod, to cure whatever is disordered, to rectify whatever is amiss in you! Do not then hold out against these kind calls to repentance; but suffer yourself, by this loving correction, to be made great;—great in humility, holiness, and happiness. Humble yourself under the mighty hand of God; and, by a hearty sorrow for your past faults, and a firm resolution of obedience for the future, let this fatherly chastisement bring forth in you the peaceable fruits of righteousness.”

All good, so far as it goes, especially from a youth of twenty; but not a word of Christ, or of being saved by His mediatorial merits, and by the exercise of faith in Him.

His sister wished him to turn poet; but, instead of writing poetry himself, he sent her “The Last Day,” by Dr. Young; and wrote as follows:—

“Lincoln College, Oxon, May 2, 1734.

“Dear Sister,—I scarcely know any human composition more likely to improve and edify, at the same time that it diverts and delights, than this poem of “The Last Day.” If you would please yourself, refine your taste, or have the practice of religion pleasing, instead of plays, ballads, and other corrupt writings, read this almost Divine piece of poetry;—read it (as I have done), over and over; think upon it; endeavour to digest it thoroughly; and even to get by heart the most moving passages: and then, I trust, you will find it answer the ends I purpose in sending it.

“You will excuse me from exercising my poetical talent; because, I perceive, such an attempt will be either very absurd, or very dangerous. For, should I tack together a few doggerel rhymes, this would be an affront to you; whereas, should I succeed so well as to gain the applause of my reader, this, I am sure, would portend very great harm, if not to you, yet, most certainly, to me. For what can portend greater harm than the words of praise, which, though smoother than oil, yet, are very swords? What can be more destructive of that humble mind which was in Christ Jesus,—that meek and lowly spirit which is in the sight of God of great price? I am so far from carrying on my versifying designs, that, I heartily wish I had never conceived any; and that those lines I sent to my cousin had either never been made, or that I had never heard them commended. Pride and vanity are foolish and unreasonable in dust and ashes; and, which is worse, odious and detestable before infinite perfection and infinite power.”

The next are extracts from a long letter, of six octavo pages, entirely on the Christian eucharist, and addressed to Whitefield:—

“Oxon, July 29, 1735.

“Dear Sir,—Is the sacrament indeed administered at one or other of your churches every Sunday? Sure then the lot is fallen to you in a fair ground; sure you have a goodly heritage. The holy eucharist is a communion of the body and blood of Christ;—a participation of all the benefits procured for us by His most meritorious passion. In this most comfortable sacrament, pardon is freely offered to all. Has any one been an enemy to God by wicked works? By this body shall he be reconciled. By this blood shall his peace be made.

“Let me put this one question, and I have done. In the last great day, on what will you rely for salvation? Will you seek to your good thoughts and pious discourses? Alas! they are full of imperfection, and cannot bear the severe trial. All your own righteousnesses are as filthy rags, and will be utterly unable to gain your acceptance. To what then will you have recourse? To whom will you fly in this great extremity? Surely, to the sufferings of Jesus Christ. There is nothing else under heaven whereby you can be saved, but His meritorious passion. Unless His body plead in your behalf, you are covered with shame, and everlasting confusion. Unless His blood make your peace, you are cast, you perish, you are eternally undone. Think, oh, do but think deeply on this, and then you will gladly embrace every occasion of partaking of the holy communion.

“By exhibiting such benefits, by urging such motives, may we prevail on all our neighbours to secure to themselves a resting place for their souls, an anchor of their hopes, sure and stedfast.

“Yours in the Lord,

“James Hervey.”[146]

This was a letter widely different from those which Hervey had written to his sister. In them, he wrote as a man trusting for salvation solely in his own good works. In this, he propounds the doctrine, that, salvation is entirely owing to the sacrifice of Christ; and, that its blessings are obtained (not by the exercise of faith, but,) in the participation of the Christian sacrament. It need not be added, that, this was one of the chief doctrines of the Oxford Methodists.

The two Wesleys and Ingham left Oxford in 1735, and the time was now approaching for Hervey’s departure. Hence, the following letter to his father:—

“April 8, 1736.

“Honoured Sir,—You reprove me for my dilatory way of proceeding,—very justly I own. I hope, I shall, from this time, amend. I was examined yesterday. I must do my juraments five times on Friday, and be admitted to my degree on Monday. Mr. H⸺ tells me, I must wear a bachelor’s gown.

“Mr. Farrer, a little while ago, asked me to resign my room to a pupil of his, who is to come the middle of this month. To which proposal, I have agreed, because I can live much cheaper out of college. I shall, by this means, save the expense of calling up, of bed-making, etc., as well as have a room at a cheaper rate, and pay for it only when I am resident: on which account, I assure myself, this step, I have taken, will be approved of by you and my mother.

“I am sorry to hear of your being obliged to go on with farming. I could wish you would let it, though at some disadvantage, and though we should suffer thereby something in our fortunes.

“As to the curacy near Bath, I can give you no determinate answer. My friend, I believe, is a very sincere one, and will do me what service he can. There is one person who has had the offer of it before me: whether he will accept of it is not known. As soon as I know, you shall know.

“I hope you will send me a letter next week, to wish me joy on being a graduate.

“James Hervey.”

Though not ordained, when Hervey left Oxford, in June, 1736, and returned to his father’s house at Hardingstone, he, at once, commenced holding meetings among his neighbours. The following letter, addressed to Mr. Chapman, one of the Oxford Methodists, refers to this, and contains Hervey’s views on what ought to be Chapman’s behaviour among the polite inhabitants of Bath, whither he was going:—

“Hardingstone, June 12, 1736.

“I humbly thank you for sending me the Journal,” (probably Wesley’s, who was now in Georgia.) “Blessed be God, for His unspeakable love to the poor Indians, and for His watchful care of our dear friends! With what zeal and ardour do those glorious combatants run the race that is set before them. May we, dear Mr. Chapman, may we go and do likewise! go and improve our little stock of knowledge and holiness, by imparting them to as many as want and are willing to receive!

“I hope my evening assemblies are, and will be, prospered. I heartily thank you for advising me to resume those means of instructing my neighbours. I have had some comforting assurances that the sanctifying Spirit has been among us, and blessed my discourses to the edifying of the hearers. I have some from two parishes besides this, that attend upon my little catechetical lectures, and am likely to have a young gentleman from the academy at Northampton.

“If you are going to Bath, how must you behave yourself in such a situation? I wish I could advise you aright; but, I fear, I am one of those whom the apostle styles μυωπα ζοντες. Nevertheless, my opinion, such as it is, I will freely give you.

“I think then, sir, great regard is to be had to the genius and temper of the city. Since that is light and gay, I would accommodate myself to it as much as possible, so it be consistently with innocence. I would, at all times, endeavour to be perfectly cheerful and obliging and complaisant, to the utmost of my power. I would be earnest with God to make my countenance shine with a smiling serenity; that there might sit something on my cheeks, which would declare the peace and joy of my heart. The world has strange apprehensions of the Methodists. They imagine them to be so many walking mopes, more like the ghost in a play, than sociable creatures. To obviate this sad prejudice, be always sprightly and agreeable. If a pretty turn of wit, or a diverting story offer itself to your mind, do not scruple to entertain the company therewith. Everything that borders upon sourness, moroseness, or ill-breeding, I would cautiously avoid. And everything that may give a beautiful or amiable idea of holiness, I would study to show forth. I see no manner of harm in bowing at church, provided it be not in divine service, so as to interrupt our devotions. I think Mr. Wilson disapproved of this; but I cannot bring myself to believe, that, a modest and decent respect to our neighbours is disparaging to God, but rather acceptable to Him. I do not mean, by what I have said, that you should make all sorts of compliances. A solicitation to join with your acquaintance in billiards, dice, cards, dancing, etc., should be rejected.

“If Mr. Morgan is at Bath, pray present my thanks and love to him. God Almighty make him and you bold as lions, wise as serpents, and harmless as doves! If I had not heard you were at Oxon, this had been sent by the post to Bath.

“James Hervey.”

Hervey was a churchman; but he was not a bigot. At this period of his history, one of the students in Doctor Doddridge’s Academy, at Northampton, was the celebrated Rev. Risdon Darracott, then a youth, nineteen years of age. Hervey and young Darracott had had an interview in the house of a member of Dr. Doddridge’s church. Darracott was endeavouring to form a religious society among Doddridge’s students, somewhat similar to the society of Methodists at Oxford; and the interview, just mentioned, led him to write to Hervey for advice. The latter had recently left Oxford, and the following is an extract from his answer:—

“Hardingstone, June 3, 1736.

“Dear Sir,—I think your proposal, as far as I can see into it, is very proper; and if discreetly managed, and steadily persisted in, cannot fail to be advantageous to yourself and others. This seems to be evident for several reasons; four of which at present occur to my mind.

“1. Because we are ignorant and short-sighted, and oftentimes unable to discern the things that are excellent. But God is pleased to reveal to one what is concealed from another; so that, in a multitude of counsellors, there is wisdom.

“2. Because we are lovers and admirers of ourselves, unwilling to see our own errors, and, therefore, unlikely to amend them. Whereas, our friends will, with a meek and impartial spirit, show us our faults.

“3. Because we are weak and irresolute; easily shaken from the most laudable purposes, and apt to let go our integrity upon any opposition. But a band of friends, who are like minded, inspires us with courage and constancy.

“4. Because we are slothful and lukewarm in religious duties. But a holy fellowship will kindle and keep alive a holy fervour. How often have I gone into the company of my dear friends, listless and spiritless; yet, when I came home, I have found myself quite another person; vigorous and active, sanguine and zealously affected in good matters.”[147]

Hervey, as an Oxford Methodist, was doubtless speaking from experience; and his reasons for religious fellowship are well worth weighing.

A few weeks after the date of the above, Hervey proceeded to Oxford to be ordained; and, whilst there, wrote again, to this young Dissenter, as follows:—

“Lincoln College, Oxon, Sept. 1, 1736.

“Dear Mr. Darracott,—I wish you would suggest to me what I must do to further the Gospel of God my Saviour. I employ, every day, an hour or more with some well-inclined people of the poorer sort. We read Mr. Henry on the Holy Scriptures, and pray together. There is one set in one part of the city, and another in another. I meet them at a neighbour’s house. Oh! that I could also open my mouth as he did; so boldly, so powerfully!

“I am preparing to enter into holy orders, and to take upon me the work of the ministry. That great, wonderful, and important work! Help me with your prayers to the Lord God my Saviour, that I ‘may receive the Holy Ghost not many days hence,’ by the laying on of hands; even ‘the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.’

“Dear sir, pray give my humble service, and best thanks to Dr. Doddridge, and beg of him, when he is in the acceptable time, to remember me, who am in the time of need. If he has any word of exhortation; but, especially, if he has any treasures of instruction, proper for a candidate of the ministerial office, how glad should I be if he would please to impart them, and how gratefully should such a favour be always acknowledged by his and your affectionate servant and brother in Jesus Christ,

“J. Hervey.”[148]

Another letter, written previous to his ordination, shall be given, at full length. Wesley was now in Georgia; and Hervey addressed to him the following:—

“Oxon, Sept. 2, 1736.

“Rev. and Dear Sir,—I have read your Journal, and find that the Lord hath done great things for you already, whereof we rejoice. Surely, He will continue His loving-kindness to you, and show you greater things than these. Methinks, when you and dear Mr. Ingham go forth upon the great and good enterprise of converting the Indians, you will, in some respects, resemble Noah and his little household going forth of the ark. Wherever you go, you must walk among dry bones or carcasses, among a people that are aliens from the life of God, buried in ignorance, dead in trespasses and sins. Oh, may the blessing of that illustrious progenitor of ours, and of that favourite with the Most High, be upon your heads! May you be ‘fruitful and multiply,’ may you bring forth abundantly in that barren land and multiply therein!

“As for me, I am still a most weak, corrupt creature. But blessed be the unmerited mercy of God, and thanks be to your never to be forgotten example, that I am what I am. As to my strength, and activity with regard to others, I fear it may be too truly said, ‘It is to sit still.’ I am at present one of the multitude; but I expect, before this reaches you, to receive the office of a Deacon, and become a minister of the New Testament. Oh, may I also ‘receive the Holy Ghost not many days hence;’ and be made a faithful minister of those saving mysteries, from that time forth and for ever! I hope, I shall then hear a voice behind me, saying, ‘Awake thou that sleepest, from thy slumber, and Christ shall give thee light.’ Christ shall be thy sanctification, Christ shall be thy illumination. He shall stand by thee, and strengthen thee. He shall give thee both to will and to do. Through the power of His grace, thou shalt run and not faint; thou shalt be fervent in the business and propagation of righteousness, nor ever give over, till thou givest up thy soul to God, its Maker, and thy body return unto the dust, as it was.

“That I may be obedient to such a heavenly call, is, I hope, ‘all my wish and all my desire.’ This is, indeed, the treasure I value, the thing that I long for. Do you, dear sir, put up your incessant prayers; and, oh, let the mighty God set to His seal, that the thing may be established, that it may be unto me according to my heart’s desire! Then, will I invite you (my father, shall I call you, or my friend? For, indeed, you have been both unto me), to meet me among the spirits of just men made perfect; since I am not like to see your face in the flesh any more for ever! Then, will I bid you welcome, yea, I will tell of your love, before the universal assembly, and at the tremendous tribunal. I will hear with joy the Man Christ Jesus say of you, ‘Oh, ye that are greatly beloved. Well done, good and faithful servants; ye have served your Lord and your generation with your might; ye have finished the work, which the eternal foreknowledge of my Father gave you to do. If others have turned their thousands, ye have turned your tens of thousands from the power of Satan unto God. Receive, therefore, a glorious kingdom,—a beautiful and immortal crown from my hand. Enter, with the children I have given you,—with the souls that you have won. Oh ye blessed ones, ye heirs of glory, enter in at those everlasting doors, and receive there the reward of your labours, even the fulness of joy for ever and ever.’

“I am, and may I always be, dear sir, your son in the Lord Jesus Christ,

“J. Hervey.

“P. S. I heartily thank you, as for all other favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew.[149] I have cultivated (according to your advice) this study, and am, blessed be God, the giver of knowledge! somewhat improved in this language. My prayers accompany you, and all that are engaged with you in the same glorious design. Let me also have yours and theirs for Jerusalem’s, for Christ’s sake.”[150]

Seventeen days, after the date of the above letter, Hervey was ordained a deacon at Christ Church, by Dr. Potter, Bishop of Oxford.[151]

One of the Oxford Methodists was Charles Kinchin, Fellow of Corpus Christi College.[152] On leaving Oxford, he was presented with the rectory of Dummer, near Basingstoke; and now, in 1736, Hervey became his curate. This is not the place to describe his curacy; but further extracts from his letters, during the time he held it, will serve to illustrate his character.

His brother, being desirous to be apprenticed in London, received from him the following:—

“Dummer, June 27, 1737.

“Dear Brother,—I find you are at London looking out for a trade, and a master to set yourself to. I hope, you pray earnestly to God to guide you in your choice. Desire also your honoured mother, and mine, to have a great regard to your soul. Let it be inquired, not only whether such a tradesman be a man of substance and credit, but also, whether he be a man of religion and godliness? Whether he be a lover of good people, a careful frequenter of the Church? Whether his children be well nurtured and educated in the fear of the Lord? Whether family prayer be daily offered up in his house? Whether he believes that the souls of his servants are committed to his trust, and that he will be answerable for the neglect of them at the judgment-seat? It will be sadly hazardous to venture yourself under the roof of any person, who is not furnished with these principles, or is a stranger to these practices. But, if he be contrary to all these, a despiser of God and goodness, wholly devoted to carnal pleasure and worldly gain; if he not only omit the religious care and oversight of his household, but also set them a wicked and corrupt example, let nothing induce you to enter into his service.”

At the time when this letter was addressed to his brother, he received a sort of petition, signed by the inhabitants of Collingtree, one of his father’s parishes, praying him to become their minister. In his long reply, dated June 29, 1737, he did not absolutely refuse to accede to their request; but sketched what a minister of Christ ought to be, and exhorted them to ask the great Head of the Church, to supply them with such an one. The letter is too long for insertion here; but, it shows, that, this young man of twenty-three had correct and exalted notions of ministerial duty. The standard of excellence was high, and but seldom reached; but it was not higher than it ought to be.

Meanwhile, the services of Hervey were not confined to Dummer. Even the Oxford Methodists, to some extent, were itinerant ministers, and, by interchange, occupied each other’s pulpits. Hence the following:—

“Dummer, October 26, 1737.

“Dear Mr. ⸺,—I received your last at Oxford. After that, I removed to Stanton-Harcourt; and now am replaced at Dummer. These frequent removals and changes of situation, I hope, will be some small excuse for my dilatoriness in writing; for, you know, they occasion trouble and take up time.

“Mr. Broughton, Mr. Gambold, and Mr. Kinchin, have been exercising their ministry here. O may I not pull down, by my indiscretion or inactivity, what they have begun to build!

“As to the making of sermons, I am deterred from writing them, not because I look upon it as a useless employment; but because I feel, and cannot help confessing, my absolute inequality to a task so important. I entreat your intense and persevering prayers on my behalf, that the great and good God, the dispenser of all wisdom, would vouchsafe to be a light to my darkness, and strength to my weakness. Should these supplications be graciously answered, my heart will then teem both with abundance of matter, and propriety of expression; my pen too will be that of a ready writer.

“I am, dear sir, your obliged and affectionate, but unworthy friend,

“J. Hervey.”[153]

In the early part of the year 1738, Hervey suffered from enfeebled health; and accepted the invitation of Paul Orchard, Esq., who resided at Stoke Abbey,[154] a beautifully situated old mansion in Devonshire.

Taking Bristol on his way, he wrote as follows to Mr. Orchard:—

“Bristol, February 3, 1738.

“Worthy Sir,—I have been at Bristol little less than a fortnight, waiting of an opportunity of coming to Cornwall by water; but, the wind still continuing contrary, I intend, this day, to set out for Exeter, on horseback. I hope, by three or four easy stages, to reach it on Monday or Tuesday next. Here I propose to rest, till I have the satisfaction of hearing from my much-esteemed, though unknown patron. I expect, sir, to be sorely fatigued, not being accustomed to travelling; and, if you please to permit your man and horse (for I dare not presume to ask for your chariot) to give me the meeting at Exeter, by the time he arrives, I hope to have worn off my weariness. I beg my humblest service may be accepted by your lady, and am, good sir, your obliged humble servant,

“James Hervey.”

The foregoing, to Mr. Orchard, was written three days after Whitefield embarked for Georgia, and Wesley returned to England. No sooner did Hervey hear of his friend Wesley’s safe arrival, than he wrote him the following loving and interesting letter:—

“Stoke Abbey, March 21, 1738.

“Rev. and Honoured Sir,—How agreeably surprising was the news, which a letter of Mr. Chapman’s lately brought me. I am at a loss to say, whether it was more unexpected or more grateful. It assured me that Mr. Wesley was arrived in England; had visited Oxon; and was coming to Bath: and shall I not hasten a congratulatory address, to welcome the friend of my studies, the friend of my soul, the friend of all my valuable and eternal interests? To do it cannot be deemed impertinency; but not to do it would justly bring upon me the imputation of ingratitude.

“I hope, sir, your health is not impaired by your travels. I dare say, your experience is increased, and your knowledge enlarged; your faith strengthened, and your zeal quickened. I do not doubt but the God whom you serve, has shown you wonderful things in His righteousness; His Almighty wisdom and goodness have dealt graciously with you, and wrought marvellously by you. O! how greatly pleasing, and, perhaps, not unprofitable would a relation of them be.

“I believe you had the pleasure of finding some of the Oxonians grown considerably in grace. They have made haste, since your departure, to improve their talents; and to edify their neighbours, as though they were earnestly and resolvedly desirous to enjoy their company in a better world.

“You cannot but have heard, and, hearing, you cannot but rejoice at, the successful zeal of our friend Whitefield. All London, and the whole nation ring of μεγαλια του Θεου done by his ministry. But, alas! it will damp your rising satisfaction to receive an account of useless, worthless Hervey’s having run a round of sin and vanity; and, at length, weary and giddy, being almost ready to drop into hell. Oh! it is not fit to be mentioned; worthy of nothing but oblivion. Spare the narrative, and cure the wretch. Send a line, and accompany it with a prayer, to warm my frozen and benumbed soul; that, if there be any seeds of goodness latent, any sparks of piety dormant in my breast, they may break forth to life, and kindle into a flame.

“I am retired from the scene of action into a worthy and wealthy gentleman’s family. Mr. Chapman will inform you, how much he deserves your prayers, and the prayers of all who are mighty with God and prevail.

“Dear sir, if other business,—if other charitable employments will allow you leisure, pray favour me with a letter. To none will it be more acceptable; by none is it more needed, than by your most obliged humble servant,

“James Hervey.”

Hervey’s health did not improve at the beautiful residence of his friend, Orchard. Hence, four months after his settlement at Stoke Abbey, he wrote to his sister as follows:—

“1738. June 19. My disorder is a languor and faintness, a feebleness and inability for action, which is increased or lessened according to the various temperature of the weather. I bless God Almighty! I am not deprived of my appetite for food, neither are my bones chastened with pain; so that, many impute all my complaints to a hippish and over-timorous turn of mind,—to a distempered imagination, rather than a disordered body.

“I have been about twenty or twenty-six miles into Cornwall, and seen wondrous workmanship of the all-creating God. At Bideford, about fourteen miles off, I am pretty well known, and am a little esteemed. It is strange to tell, but let it be to the glory of God’s free and undeserved goodness, though I am worthy of shame and universal contempt, that, I find favour almost wherever I go.”

For upwards of two years, Hervey was the cherished guest of Mr. Orchard and his family. David and Jonathan were not warmer or more faithful friends than these. Hence the following remarkable agreement:—

“We, the underwritten, whom God’s providence has wonderfully brought acquainted with each other, for purposes, no doubt, of piety and everlasting salvation, sensible how blind and corrupt our nature is, how forward to fall into errors and iniquities, but how backward to discern or amend them;—knowing also the great advantage of kind and affectionate, but, at the same time, sincere and impartial reproof and admonition;—do oblige ourselves to watch over each other’s conduct, conversation, and tempers; and, whenever we perceive anything amiss therein,—any duty ill done, or not done so well as it ought,—anything omitted which might be for our spiritual good, or practised which will tend to our spiritual hurt,—in fine, any thing practised or neglected, which we shall wish to have been otherwise in a dying hour:—All this we will watch to observe, never fail to reprove, and earnestly endeavour to correct in each other, that so, we may have nothing to upbraid one another with when we meet in the eternal state. We resolve to do all this with the utmost plainness, and all honest freedom; and, provided it be done with tenderness, with apparent good-will, and in private, we will esteem it as the greatest kindness we can show,—the truest interest of sincere friendship that we can exercise, and the only way of answering the gracious ends of Almighty wisdom in bringing us together. In witness and confirmation of which resolution, we here subscribe our names.

“Paul Orchard, ”James Hervey.”

“November 28, 1738.”

While Hervey was thus resting, and recruiting his health, in Devonshire, Wesley and his brother Charles became acquainted with Peter Böhler, found peace with God, associated with the Moravians, and began to preach the doctrine of salvation by faith only, with a fervour and earnestness, which excited almost national attention, and brought upon them, in varied forms, the malice of their enemies. Hervey, in his beautiful retirement, heard of this, and wrote to Wesley as follows[155]:—

“Stoke Abbey, December 1, 1738.

“Most Dear and Reverend Sir,—Whom I love and honour in the Lord: indeed, it is not through any forgetfulness of your favours, or unconcernedness for your welfare, that, you have not heard from me, but through the miscarriage of my letter. Immediately on the news of your first arrival in England, I made haste to salute you, and wondered why your answer was so long in coming; but wondered more when I heard you had left the nation a second time,[156] without being so condescending as to own me, or so kind as to vouchsafe me a single line. But, now, sir, that, I am assured under your own hand, that, you have escaped the perils of the sea, the perils of foreign countries, the perils of those that oppose the truth; and, that, you, restored in safety to your native country, are resettled at Oxon, and both have been doing, and still are doing spiritual and everlasting good to men,—I may truly say ‘my heart rejoiceth, even mine.’

“O that I could give you a comfortable account of myself, and of my zeal for God! Alas! I must confess, with shame and sorrow, ‘my zeal has been to sit still.’ I am not strong in body, and am lamentably weak in spirit. Sometimes, my bodily disorders clog the willing mind, and are a grievous weight upon its wheels. At other times, the mind is oppressed with sloth, and thereby rendered listless and indisposed for labouring in the Lord. Pray for me, dearest sir, and engage all my friends to cry mightily to Heaven in my behalf, if so be, this dry rod may bud and blossom; this barren tree may bring forth much fruit.

“I live in the family of a worthy gentleman, who is a hearty well-wisher to the cause of pure and undefiled religion; who desires no greater happiness than to love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity; and who would be glad of a place for himself and household in your prayers.

“Dear sir, will you permit me to inform you what is said, though I verily believe slanderously said, of you? It is reported, that, the dearest friends I have in the world are setters forth of strange doctrines, that are contrary to Scripture, and repugnant to the Articles of our Church. This cannot but give me uneasiness; and I should be glad to have my fears removed by yourself. It is said, that, you inculcate faith, without laying stress upon good works; and, that, you endeavour to dissuade honest tradesmen from following their occupations, and persuade them to turn preachers. Now, these calumnies I wish you would give me power to confute, who am,

“Dear sir, your ever obliged and grateful friend,

“J. Hervey.”

The first of these rumours was a calumny; for, while Wesley inculcated faith, he also strenuously enforced good works. The second was not without foundation; for Wesley himself writes:—

“Joseph Humphrey was the first lay preacher that assisted me in England, in the year 1738.”[157]

The two Wesleys and Whitefield, full of the love of God, and with faces beaming with peace and joy through believing in Christ Jesus, were now about the most abused men in England. All the churches were closed against them; and fields, streets, and village greens were their chief preaching places. The mob treated them with violence. The clergy used the pulpit in denouncing them. The press was employed in spreading scandalous reports concerning them. Some of their old friends were puzzled, and began to stand aloof from them. But, in the midst of all, they themselves were happy; and were honoured, almost every day, in being made the instruments of turning men from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God.

Hervey’s health was such, that, even had he wished, he was utterly unable to join his friends in this their bold and marvellously successful out-door mission to the unconverted masses. While they were preaching to assembled thousands on Hannam Mount, Kennington Common, and Blackheath, he was being nursed, with the greatest tenderness, amid the comforts and beauties of Stoke Abbey; and was preaching, as opportunity permitted, and as his strength allowed, in some of the neighbouring churches, and especially in Mr. Thompson’s, of St. Gennys, Cornwall. Though absent, however, he was not forgotten. Whitefield, full of faith and of the Holy Ghost, wrote to him, inquiring whether he had found the same blessings, which he and the Wesleys had. Hervey’s answer was so beautifully ingenuous; and, moreover, is so important as bearing upon the subject of his conversion, that, it is given here without curtailment.

“Stoke Abbey, April 4, 1739.

“Dear Mr. Whitefield,—Your kind favour, dated March 6, I received not till yesterday, not returning sooner from worthy Mr. Thompson’s charge. O that he may not find his dear flock gone back; but adorned in Christian knowledge, during his absence from them!

“I thank you for the good news you sent me. Christ enable me to praise, rejoice, and give thanks on this behalf!

“I am obliged for the searching questions you put to me. Before I answer them, give me leave to exhort you in the words of the Psalmist, ‘Try me, my dear and faithful friend, try me, and seek the ground of my heart, and examine my thoughts; look well if there be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’

“First question, Does the Spirit of God witness with your spirit that you are a child of God? In truth, I cannot tell. I have sometimes a comforting hope, that I am a child, and not an outcast; a true son, and no bastard; but whether this persuasion cometh of Him that has called men to salvation, I know not. Whether it be the testimony of the Holy Spirit witnessing within me, or the whisper of a vain presumption speaking peace where there is no peace, I am at a loss to determine. Tell me, dear sir, by what touchstone I shall distinguish them.

“Second question, Have you peace and joy in the Holy Ghost? I sometimes do rejoice, and not in carnal satisfactions, but in hope of the glory which shall be revealed. But the bright prospect is quickly intercepted; dark clouds of fear intervene; and sad misgivings of mind throw a damp upon the rising joy. Sometimes I am blessed with inward peace, and possess my soul in tranquility; but this also is like our April sun,—very changeable and short-lived. The sweet calm is broken, and ruffling gusts of peevishness and uneasiness discompose the tenour of my mind. I must confess, that, I feel touches of envy (oh that I could mingle my tears with my ink, as I write!), motions of pride, hankering after unnecessary sensual delights; that, I too frequently am destitute of love to my brethren, of a compassionate long-suffering zeal for their welfare, and cannot perceive one spark of devotion kindled in my cold heart. For these things, my soul is, at some intervals, disquieted within me. Such sad experiences turn my peace into pain; they destroy my gladness, and fill me with grief.

“Third question, Are we justified by faith only? I answer, By faith only. Works can have no share in our justification, because there is iniquity in our holy things. They are done after an imperfect manner, or from improper views, or sullied with some secret self-glorying; and, therefore, cannot recommend themselves, much less the sinful doers of them, to infinite purity. Nay, if God should enter into strict and rigorous judgment, I fear our best works would deserve punishment. And to think, that, those performances, which deserve punishment, can merit, either in whole or in part, in any measure or degree, an eternal reward, is surely to misjudge the case. It seems to be as false as to fancy, that, the addition of some dross would enhance the value, or increase the lustre, of refined gold. Yet still I believe, that, these works, poor and mean and imperfect as they are, are absolutely necessary, and that there is no justification without them. A tenant upon lease must duly and punctually pay his pepper-corn, though it be not considered, by the payer or receiver, as of any worth at all. So, a Christian must exercise himself in all good works, if he would obtain salvation, though that can add no worth to the perfect, sufficient, and alone meritorious sacrifice of Jesus Christ. We must be as careful to maintain good works, as if our salvation was the purchase of them alone, and yet renounce them utterly, and rely upon the merits, death, and intercession of our blessed Saviour, who is made unto them that believe, not only wisdom, but righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.

“If I am wrong, be pleased to inform me; and God Almighty give me a child-like, unprejudiced, teachable spirit! Pray for me, dear sir, that, my sins, which blind my understanding, may be subdued; and that; together with a right spirit, I may have a right judgment in all things. That text, James ii. 24, I dare not blot out of my Bible, and I cannot put out of my mind. Indeed, it perplexes me. It makes me unsettled and wavering. When I think of it, I am ready (ready! nay, ought I not to be resolved, since the Apostle has put the words into my mouth?) to alter my reply, and say, not by faith only, but by works (in conjunction with it) a man is justified. Give me leave, henceforward, to become your pupil in this important doctrine of Christianity, as I have long been, and ever shall be,

“Your most affectionate friend,

“J. Hervey.”[158]

The friendship of these Oxford Methodists was most sincere and cordial; but was not unruffled. All was not plain sailing. Breakers were a-head. It is a well-known fact, that, early in the year 1739, Whitefield and Wesley, being shut out of the pulpits of the Established Church, commenced their marvellous career of out-door preaching. Astonishing effects followed. All sorts of rumours were current. Enemies were active, and, as already stated, even friends were staggered. In his Devonshire retreat, Hervey was excited, and wrote to the Rev. Mr. Kinchin, of Dummer, an immensely long letter from which the following is an extract:—

“Stoke Abbey, April 18, 1739.

“Dear Mr. Kinchin,—This day, a letter informs me, that, my worthy and ever-esteemed Rector has hearkened to men of unsound opinions, and is turning aside to their errors;—that, he is inclined to throw off his gown, renounce the Church of England, relinquish his Fellowship and living, and become itinerant preacher. And can I see a friend, who has been kind to me as a father, is dear to me as a brother,—can I see such a friend run away with such erroneous and pernicious notions, and sit silent and unconcerned? No; my affections constrain me; and I cannot hold my peace. I love him, and, therefore, must speak. I love him tenderly, and, therefore, must speak freely.”

Here follow twelve printed octavo pages of remonstrance. Hervey then adds:—

“There is no man living that I more sincerely love and honour than Mr. Wesley. His memory is most dear and deservedly precious to me; but, yet, I must frankly own, he is liable to mistakes,—mistakes in religion, and dangerous ones too. I remember the time when he was fond of the mystic writers; read one of their leading authors over and over again; and commended what he read as the best book, next to those that were given by inspiration. But, within the space of a few months, he saw his error; retracted his opinions; and inveighed against them as studiously as he ever extolled them. This I mention only to show, that, the best designing men,—men of eminent learning and exemplary devotions,—may be led into false apprehensions of things. He has arguments, I do not doubt, to support his tenets, as he had in the former case, and can manage them with a masterly skill; but, yet, he may be deceived, though he means only the glory of Christ. Therefore, dear sir, withhold your assent a little, and do not too easily fall in with his principles. At least, suspend your determination for awhile; wait the event; and let that speak for the attempt.

“You see how moderate I am in the matter. I do not exclaim against the gentlemen who have brought these new doctrines to our ears. If truth and purer Christianity be on their side, God forbid, but that I myself and every true-hearted disciple should go over to their party! Only have a little patience; tarry thou the issue of things; and let excitus acta probet.

“I wonder why they dissuade you from cleaving to the Establishment. Why do they find fault with our excellent Church? And why should they entice you from your parish? Sure we are, that, the Holy Ghost made you overseer over that little flock; but, that, He has released you from the charge and called you to another sphere of labour, is not so evident. There was a time when Mr. Wesley was a warm and able advocate of the primitive institutions. I marvel, that, he is so soon removed to another opinion. This is a fresh conviction how variable his mind is, and, though burning with zeal for God, yet, given to change. And, having altered so often already, why may he not alter again, and new-mould his present sentiments as well as his former?

“They advise you to become an itinerant preacher. But why? I would gladly know. Is greater perfection to be attained by wandering into the wide world, and preaching in variety of places? Or will this way of preaching be more successful and efficacious? I cannot bring myself to believe this.

“Etc., etc.,

“James Hervey.”

To some extent, Hervey was evidently misinformed. It is possible, it is not unlikely, that, Wesley and Whitefield had advised their brother Methodist, Mr. Kinchin, to become an itinerant preacher; but there is no evidence, that, they ever wished either him or any of their friends to leave the Established Church, or, that, they ever entertained the idea of leaving the Church themselves. Still, there can be no doubt, that Hervey had heard such reports as these, and was intensely anxious on this account. Hervey refers to the diffusion of “erroneous and pernicious notions.” These were, probably, not so much the doctrines of justification by faith, the witness of the Spirit, and cognate truths, as the things mentioned in the following letter, addressed to Whitefield, three weeks after the foregoing letter was sent to Mr. Kinchin:—

“Stoke Abbey, May 10, 1739.

“Dear Mr. Whitefield,—I sincerely thank you for your last letter. I can hardly bring myself to assent to your whole account of justification by faith. This, perhaps, may proceed from some obstinate prejudices, rather than from reasonable and weighty scruple. However, I waive the mention of my objections, and make the care of my own right faith give place to a concern for the principles and practices of my dear friends.

“It is reported, and creditably reported, from Oxon, that, several strange notions have been lately broached there, and have gained proselytes and espousers among the most hopeful and promising part of the University. They, who bravely stood their ground against sin, are become an unhappy prey to error and delusion. I hope you are not fallen from your once avowed steadfastness to the truth as it is in Jesus, and as it is in our excellent Church. It is whispered, indeed, that, the seducers are practising their arts upon you, and trying to subvert my dear Mr. Whitefield’s orthodoxy.

“In a late letter, I gave an answer to some queries you were pleased to put to me. Now, I beg the favour of your opinions concerning the following doctrines: ‘That, the Distinction, Order, Degrees, even Robes and Habits of the University are all Anti-Christian; that, nothing is taught in it, but that learning and wisdom, which opposes the power of God; that, whoso is born of God is also taught of God, not in any limited sense, but, so as to make the use of natural means of no effect; that, all human learning (however said to be sanctified of God) entirely disqualifies us for preaching the true Gospel of Jesus Christ; that, an Established ministry is a mere invention of men; that, our whole Church and all its authority, are founded on, and supported by a lie; and, that, all who receive power of preaching from it, are in a state of slavery, and must throw off all obedience to it, before they can enjoy the freedom of the Gospel.

“These tenets, extravagant and pernicious as they are, have been, I find, studiously advanced; but let them not have the sanction of your approbation. If they will get abroad into the world, let them go branded with your dislike and censure.

“James Hervey.”

Remembering the rumours of the day, such a letter as the above is not surprising. Falsehoods concerning Wesley and his friends were rife. No report was too extravagant to be believed. Unfortunately, Whitefield’s answer to Hervey is not forthcoming; but the invalided recluse was soon led into the way of truth. Hence, the following, also addressed to Whitefield, pointing out the means by which Hervey had been induced to renounce his Oxford Pharisaism, and to embrace the doctrine of salvation by faith in Christ only. The letter is too valuable to be abridged:—

“Yes, dear sir, with pleasure, I send another letter. I rejoice to find, that, you remember me. I am thankful, that, you have not renounced a correspondent, made odious by so much ingratitude.

“You are pleased to ask, How the Holy Ghost convinced me of self-righteousness, and drove me out of my false rests? Indeed, sir, I cannot precisely tell. The light was not instantaneous, but gradual. It did not flash upon my soul, but arose like the dawning day. A little book, wrote by Jenks, upon Submission to the Righteousness of God, was made serviceable to me. Your Journals, dear sir, and Sermons, especially that sweet Sermon upon ‘What think ye of Christ?’ were a means of bringing me to a knowledge of the truth. And another excellent piece has been, and I hope will be, as so much precious eye-salve to my dim and clouded understanding,—I mean ‘Marshall’s Gospel Mystery of Sanctification.’

“These,—blessed be He, who is a light to them that sit in darkness!—have, in some degree, convinced me of my former errors. I now begin to see, that, I have been labouring in the fire, and wearying myself for very vanity, while I have attempted to establish my own righteousness. I trusted I knew not what, while I trusted in some imaginary good deeds of my own. These are no hiding-place from the storm. They are a refuge of lies. If I had the meekness of Moses, and the patience of Job, the zeal of Paul, and the love of John, I durst not advance the least plea to everlasting life on this footing. But as for my own beggarly performances,—wretched righteousness,—gracious, adorable Emmanuel!—I am ashamed; I am grieved, that I should thrust them into the place of Thy Divine, Thy inconceivable precious obedience!

“My schemes are altered. I now desire to work in my blessed Master’s service, not for, but, from salvation. I believe, that, Jesus Christ, the Incarnate God, is my Saviour; that, He has done all which I was bound to perform; and suffered all that I was condemned to sustain; and, so, has procured a full, final, and everlasting salvation for a poor damnable sinner. I would now fain serve Him who has saved me. I would glorify Him before men, who has justified me before God. I would study to please Him in holiness and righteousness all the days of my life. I seek this blessing, not as a condition, but, as a part,—a choice and inestimable part of that complete salvation, which Jesus has purchased for me.

“Now, if at any time, I am fervent in devotion,—seem to be in a gracious frame,—or am enabled to abound in the works of the Lord,—I endeavour to put no confidence in these bruised reeds, but to rest upon the Rock of Ages. Not in these, most blessed Jesus, but in Thy robes of righteousness, let me be found, when ‘God shall call the heavens from above, and the earth, that, He may judge His people.’

“When, on the other hand, I feel myself most deplorably dead and deficient,—when I am apt to sigh for my unprofitableness, and cry out with the prophet, ‘My leanness, my leanness!’ I no longer comfort myself with saying, ‘Be of good cheer, soul, thy God requires only sincere obedience, and, perhaps, to-morrow may be better than this day, and more abundant in acts of holiness.’ Jesus is now become my salvation, and this is my song in the house of my pilgrimage,—‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul?’ Though imperfect in thyself, thou art complete in thy Head. Though poor in thyself, thou hast unsearchable riches in thy Divine Surety. The righteousness of Thy obedience, O Lord Redeemer, is everlasting. O grant me an interest in this, and I shall live.

“If overtaken by sin, or overcome by temptation, I dare not, as formerly, call to mind my righteous deeds, and so think to commute with Divine justice; or quit scores for my offences, by my duties. I do not, to ease my conscience, or be reconciled to God, promise stricter watchfulness, more alms, and renewed fastings. No; in such unhappy circumstances, turn, O my soul! neither to the right hand nor to the left; but fly instantly to Him, whom God has set forth for a propitiation. Hide thyself in His wounded side, and be safe. Wash in His streaming blood, and be clean.

“If in these, or in other points, I am otherwise minded, than corresponds with the gospel of truth, cease not, dear sir, to pray, that, ‘God may reveal even this unto me.’

“But why will not my dear friend come amongst us? Why won’t he drop his word towards the west? Many, in these parts, long for your arrival. Many long to hear the joyful sound from your lips. Many, I am assured, would hail my dear brother with that acclamation, ‘How beautiful are the feet of him that bringeth glad tidings; that bringeth glad tidings of good things!’ O that it would please the Divine Providence to direct your way unto us! Come, dear sir, come with the fulness of the blessings of the gospel of peace. Come amongst living multitudes, who will be attentive to hear you; and come, once more, into the arms of him who dearly loves you.

“J. Hervey.”[159]

Hervey and Whitefield were young men, both twenty-five years of age; but they were not novices in religious knowledge. By extensive reading, by conversation, by docility, above all, by the blessed Bible, and by the Spirit’s teaching, they had, at this early period of their history, arrived at theological conclusions, from which they never wavered to the end of life. Exception may be taken to some of the expressions of Hervey in the foregoing letter; and to the Calvinistic views of both; but they believed what they preached; and they undoubtedly thought and felt that their doctrines were founded upon the Divine authority of the sacred Scriptures. It is no part of the plan of the present work to defend or to attack the doctrines taught by the men whose histories are sketched; but simply to furnish honest information respecting their manner of life, their teaching, their religious experience, their success, and the termination of their toil and suffering.

In 1740, Hervey’s health was sufficiently restored to justify his undertaking the curacy of Bideford, where he continued till about the month of July, 1743. His congregation was large, but his stipend small, amounting to not more than £60 a year. Here he planned and partly executed his “Meditations among the Tombs,” and his “Reflections on a Flower Garden.” A ride from Bideford to Kilhampton suggested the former; and the latter were, in part, composed in the summer-house of a pleasant garden, belonging to the family with whom he lodged. At his entrance upon his ministry at Bideford, he wrote as follows to his friend, Mr. Orchard, in whose hospitable mansion he had been so long a guest:—

“Your excellent proposal is not yet put into execution; we have no evening prayers in public as yet; nay, I have not so much as communicated the design to my rector. I am shamefully timorous: lions, giants, and the sons of Anak are much in my thoughts. I dream (and may it be no more than a dream, and not too real a presage,) of difficulties, both in getting leave to attempt, and in getting strength to perform, this spiritual service, which I owe to my little flock. Your zeal will reproach me with cowardice; your faith upbraid me with unbelief; but, O, let your charity and pity pray against both. I hope ere long to disclose the matter to Mr. Nichols.”

Another letter, written at Bideford, and addressed to Whitefield, will be welcome. It strikingly exhibits the change in Hervey’s views and religious character:—

“Bideford, 1741.

“Dear Mr. Whitefield,—Your favour struck me with an agreeable surprise. I verily thought my stubborn silence had razed me from your remembrance; but, since you still have an affection for an ungrateful friend, I take this opportunity of returning my grateful acknowledgments.

“I rejoice to hear the Redeemer’s cause revives. Set up Thyself, O Incarnate God! above the heavens, and diffuse Thy glory through all the earth! Let Thy enemies perish, O Lord! Let disappointments attend the attempts of Thy foes and the devices of hell; but let Thy servants be prosperous, and their message crowned with success!

“Dear sir, I cannot boast of trophies erected here by the Captain of our salvation; but, I hope, the arm of the Lord will be revealed more and more among us. I hope, the triumphs of free grace will have wider spread and free course, and will prevail mightily over our unbelief. I own, with shame and sorrow, that, I have been too long a blind leader of the blind. I have perverted the good ways of God, and have darkened the glory of redeeming merit and sovereign grace. I have dared to invade the prerogatives of an all-sufficient Saviour, and to pluck the crown off His head. I have derogated from the honours, the everlasting and incommunicable honours of Jesus. I have presumed to give works a share in the redemption and recovery of a lost sinner; and have placed those filthy rags upon the throne of the Lamb; and, by that means, debased the Saviour, and exalted the sinner.

“But, I trust, the Divine truth begins to dawn upon my soul. Was I possest of all the righteous acts that have made saints and martyrs famous in all generations,—could they all be transferred to me, and might I call them all my own,—I would renounce them all that I might win Christ. I would not dare to appear before the bright and burning eye of God with such hay, straw, and stubble. No, dear sir, I would long to be clothed in a Mediator’s righteousness, and ascribe all my salvation to the most unmerited and freest grace.

“Dear sir, cease not to pray for me; desist not to counsel me; since, I perceive, you cannot forbear to love me.

“I am,” etc.,

“J. Hervey.”

In the discharge of his ministerial duties at Bideford Hervey was exemplary. He preached twice every Sunday; and, on Tuesdays and Fridays, expounded part of one of the Lessons for the day; except when he examined the children, and gave explanations of the Church’s Catechism. Like his friends Wesley and Whitefield, he also formed a religious society, which continued to meet above forty years. This brought upon him considerable reproach; but, “so far from being ashamed” of what he had done, he wrote,—

“I am only ashamed of the inconsiderable assistance which I am able to contribute to so worthy an attempt. Ashamed! no; but if it were lawful for a Christian to glory in anything beside the cross of Christ, this should be matter of glory and triumph to me. Their scorns, derision, and mockery, I would bind on my head as a beautiful crown, and be better pleased with such a character, than with an ornament of gold about my neck.”[160]

Brave words were these! The Wesleys and Whitefield were encountering murderous mobs in all directions; and, so far from complaining, were “rejoicing, that, they were counted worthy to suffer shame for the name of Jesus Christ.” The feebleness of Hervey’s body rendered it impossible for him to undertake the rough mission work, which was so zealously undertaken by his friends; but, the Christian heroism of his soul, rendered him not unworthy of their brotherhood. The men, one and all, were animated with the spirit of “the noble army of martyrs;” and, at any moment, were prepared to die for the sake of the Lord Jesus. No wonder, that, such men were successful, and, that, their memories are wreathed with unfading laurels; while the names of their “enemies, persecutors, and slanderers,” are either forgotten, or only remembered with contempt.

The Rev. Mr. Nichols, the Rector of Bideford, died early in the year 1741, only a few months after Hervey had entered upon his labours there; and, as the Bideford living was a valuable one, there were a considerable number of aspirants after it. On March 2, 1741, Hervey wrote to a friend as follows:—

“You have heard, I do not doubt, that, Mr. Nichols, my rector, is no more: who will succeed him is yet a secret. Many, I believe, are eagerly wishing for it, as a place of considerable profit, but few, perhaps, are solicitously considering whether they are equal to the discharge of so difficult and important a service. But hold, my pen: what have I to do to judge others? Let it be all my care to approve myself faithful in my appointed station.”

Shortly after this, Hervey was summoned home, on account of the serious illness of his father. Hence the following:—

“Weston, May 30, 1741.

“Dear Mr. W.⸺,—’Tis late, midnight drawing on, and the Sabbath approaches; but I must snatch a few minutes to tell my dear friend the good news. My father is made whole; quite freed from his pains; quite cured of his disorders; and almost in a new world. Deep, indeed, was his distress; grievous his affliction; but now the clouds are over and gone, and the voice of joy and health is restored to his dwelling.

“Now, therefore, I am free: I have no engagement here. My father, it is true, offers me a curacy; but, if Mr. ⸺ chooses it, and my dear people think it may contribute in any measure to their spiritual benefit, nothing hinders but I may return to Bideford: Return, and address them much in the same strain as Peter bespoke the impotent man: ‘Eloquence and oratory, learning and accomplishments have I none; but such as I have, in the name of Jesus, give I you,’ ”From your affectionate friend,

“J. Hervey.”[161]

Hervey did return to Bideford; but, at the end of about two years, the new rector dismissed him, against the united request of his parishioners, who offered to maintain him at their own expense. This, to a man of Hervey’s exquisite sensitiveness of feeling, was no trivial trial. To the people of Bideford he was devotedly attached. He writes, while still among them:—

“I live in the very heart of the town. O that the immortal interests of its inhabitants may be ever on my heart! May I covet no other prosperity, and pursue no other happiness, than to be an instrument of doing them some spiritual good! I hope, I shall never forget my dear people of Bideford. I shall bear them upon my heart, when I retire into my study for reading, when I walk solitary in the fields for exercise, and when I bend my knees before the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

And again, after he had left them:—

“I rejoice to hear that dear Mr. Thompson[162] proposes to make you a monthly visit. O that his doctrine may distil as the dew! He will teach you the way of God more perfectly, for he has the unction of the Holy One, and knows the truth as it is in Jesus. There will not be wanting those who will censure his righteous dealings, and ridicule his zeal for the glorious Redeemer; but all those who have Jesus and His salvation, will say, ‘The Lord prosper you!’ If any of my acquaintances think it worth their while to hear from me, I shall, with as much pleasure, go to my desk and write to them, as I formerly went to their houses and conversed with them. I assure you, I would still seek to please my people for their good to edification.”

Before following Hervey to his next sphere of labour, further extracts from his correspondence, at and about this period, will help to illustrate his character.

Hervey was an earnestly religious man, a devout student of the holy Bible, and an extensive reader of pious authors, but he was also a lover of at least some of the light and popular literature of the age. Hence the following to his sister:—

“Bideford, October 12, 1742.

“See how our judgments and inclinations alter in process of time! I once thought, I should make less use of the Spectator than you; but now, I believe, the reverse of this is true; for we read one or more of these elegant and instructive papers every morning at breakfast, and they are served up with our tea, according to their original design. We reckon our repast imperfect without a little of Mr. Addison’s or Mr. Steele’s company.”

Such a confession is not surprising in a man who was now employed in writing “Meditations among the Tombs,” and “Reflections on a Flower Garden.”

Hervey seems to have left Bideford in the month of July, 1743; but, on his way to Northamptonshire, he halted at Bath, where he resided several weeks, and wrote a number of his most interesting letters. The following are extracts from some of them:—

“Dear Mrs. A⸺,—I am got as far as Bath, in my way homeward; and here I am likely to make a considerable stay. My friend, Mr. C⸺,[163] has taken a trip into Devon, and left me entrusted with his flock: so that, here is my abode till his return releases me.

“Sunday last[164] I spent at Bristol, attending Mr. Whitefield’s preaching. Never have I seen, never have I read, so remarkable an accomplishment of our Lord’s promise, as is evident in that indefatigable, powerful preacher. He does indeed believe in his Divine Master, and out of his heart flow rivers of living waters.

“This afternoon, some hopeful young persons came to visit me. They seemed to be in the number of those who are pressing forward unto the prize of their high calling in Christ Jesus. Perceiving them to be thus minded, I introduced a discourse concerning growth in grace,” etc.[165]

The next furnishes a glimpse of Bath a hundred and thirty years ago.

To Mrs. Orchard.

Bath, August 10, 1743.

“Madam,—I expected to have been at home before this time; but, as I have dropped short at Bath, and am likely to continue here awhile, you will give me leave to transmit my best wishes from hence.

“There is a good deal of company at Bath. A new mineral water is found out, about a mile distant from the city. It is grown into considerable repute, and is much frequented. Several of the nobility and gentry drink it constantly. It will not bear bottling, and, for that reason, must be used on the spot. It is called the Lincomb Spa.

“The latter season is approaching, which, you know, madam, brings abundance of strangers with it. Some invalids resort to the English Bethesda; some, as lovers of pleasure, to this mart for all manner of diversions. Every one seems studious of making a gay and grand appearance. It is, I think, one of the most glittering places I ever beheld. ‘Anointed with oil, crowned with rose-buds, and decked with purple and fine linen,’ they sport away their days, chanting to the sound of the viol, drinking wine in bowls, and stretching themselves on couches of ivory; and, perhaps, never remembering the afflictions of Jesus, nor His love, ‘which is better than wine,’ nor His name, ‘which is as ointment poured forth.’

“While they are contriving every art to embellish their persons, let us, dear madam, give all diligence to be all-glorious within. While they are studying to outvie the butterfly and the tulip, let us be animated by higher views, and put on the Lord Jesus Christ,” etc....

“And now, madam, will you permit me to anticipate a remark which you will naturally make. Shall I spare you the necessity of saying, Why here is a sermon instead of a letter.

“Indeed, madam, if it be a sermon, the Bath finery has furnished me with a text.

“And why, good madam, should not the world expect such sermon-like epistles from us ministers? Why will not they let us be comformable to ourselves, and act in character? Would you not expect to hear of engagements and victories from a soldier just come from making a campaign? Would any one be surprised to find a merchant discoursing of foreign affairs, or canvassing the state of trade? Nay, is it not allowable even for our tailor and milliner to talk of the newest fashions and most modish colour? Why, then, should not the agents for the court of heaven treat of heavenly things? Why should not their whole conversation savour of their calling? Why should they be one thing when they bend the knee, and another when they put pen to paper? Why act one part when they speak from the pulpit, and quite a different one when they converse in the parlour? To say the truth, madam, if you do not allow me this liberty, I may pretend, indeed, but can never act the grateful, the affectionate, the faithful, humble servant.”

The following is an extract from an enormously long letter, of eighteen printed pages, addressed to a clergyman, who had been preaching in the Abbey Church.

“Bath, August 27, 1743.

“Reverend Sir,—Sunday last, I happened not to be at the Abbey Church in the afternoon; but, conversing with a gentleman who was one of your auditors, I desired to have a summary account of your sermon. And, truly, he gave me such an account as both astonished and grieved me. You dignified worldly prosperity at so extraordinary a rate, and almost canonized the prosperous man. On the other hand, you vilified the glorious Jesus in so scandalous a manner, and set the Incarnate Godhead to one of the most ignoble and abominable offices. This made me encourage my friend to send you a word of admonition; and, when he declined, I could not forbear undertaking it myself. For, it would be unkind to you, sir, to perceive you under such grievous mistakes, and not to warn you of the error of your ways. Nor would it be less unfaithful to your Master, and my Master, to be informed of such preaching, and suffer it to pass current, without any animadversion.

“I understand, you first exhorted people to rejoice, when their circumstances were affluent and their worldly affairs prosperous. You enforced this palatable advice by the precepts of Scripture; and, lest it should not be received with a proper welcome, you further urged it on your hearers by the example of our blessed Saviour.

“In opposition to this strain of teaching, permit me to observe, 1. That, worldly prosperity is no sufficient cause for a Christian to rejoice. 2. That, it is often one of the sorest evils that can befal a person. And 3. Allow me to sketch out the true nature of spiritual prosperity; or discover what is that solid ground for rejoicing, which the oracles of God recommend.”

These were the three points explained and enforced in Hervey’s pungent and scorching letter, sent to the clerical sycophant, who, because the sinners, in his crowded church, were fashionable ones, imitated, not the honest Baptist of Scripture history, but the dangerous Syren of ancient mythology, and flattered the rich and elegantly dressed “children of wrath” who sat before him, instead of reproving their sins, and proclaiming their danger. Hervey was still young in years; but the unfaithful preacher deserved all he got.

This was not the only rebuke which Hervey administered during his brief residence in the gay city of the west. At this period, Bath was, perhaps, the most fashionable place in Great Britain; and the most renowned man in Bath was Richard, commonly called “Beau,” Nash. Four years before, this accomplished rake had endeavoured to prevent Wesley preaching in the city where, by a sort of general consent, he acted as the king of all the fops and fashionables there assembled; but Nash was not a match for the poor, persecuted Methodist; and, smarting from Wesley’s keen retort, and stung by an old woman’s taunts, was glad to sneak away from a scene of conflict of his own creating. Beau Nash was still in power; and now young Hervey addressed to him the following faithful, and caustic letter,—

“Sir,—This comes from your sincere friend, and one, who has your best interest deeply at heart. It comes on a design altogether important, and of no less consequence than your everlasting happiness; so that, it may justly challenge your careful regard. It is not to upbraid or reproach, much less to triumph and insult over your misconduct. No; it is pure benevolence,—it is disinterested good-will which prompts me to write; so that, I hope, I will not raise your resentment. However, be the issue what it will, I cannot bear to see you walk in the paths that lead to death, without warning you of your danger,—without sounding in your ears the awful admonition, ‘Return and live;—for why will you die?’ I beg of you to consider, whether you do not, in some measure, resemble those accursed children of Eli, whom, though they were famous in their generation, and men of renown, yet, vengeance suffered not to live. For my part, I may safely use the expostulation of the old priest,—‘Why do you such things? For I hear of your evil dealings by all this people; nay, my brother, for it is no good report I hear; you make the Lord’s people to transgress.’

“I have long observed and pitied you: and a most melancholy spectacle, I lately beheld, made me resolve to caution you, lest you also come into the same condemnation.

“I was, not long since, called to visit a poor gentleman, erewhile of the most robust body and gayest temper I ever knew; but, when I visited him, oh! how was the glory departed from him! I found him no more that sprightly and vivacious son of joy which he used to be; but languishing, pining away, and withering under the chastising hand of God: his limbs feeble and trembling; his countenance forlorn and ghastly; and the little breath he had left sobbed out in sorrowful sighs; his body hastening apace to the dust, to lodge in the silent grave, the land of darkness and desolation; his soul just going to God who gave it, preparing itself to wing its way to its long home, to enter upon an unchangeable and eternal state. When I was come up into his chamber, and had seated myself on his bed, he first cast a most wishful look upon me, and then began, as well as he was able, to speak. ‘Oh! that I had been wise, that I had known this, that I had considered my latter end! Ah! Mr. H⸺y, death is knocking at my doors; in a few hours more, I shall draw my last gasp, and, then, judgment, the tremendous judgment! How shall I appear, unprepared as I am, before the all-knowing and Omnipotent God? How shall I endure the day of His coming?’ When I mentioned, among other things, that strict holiness which he had formerly so lightly esteemed, he replied, with a hasty eagerness, ‘Oh! that holiness is the only thing I now long for. I have not words to tell you how highly I value it. I would gladly part with all my estate, large as it is, or a world, to obtain it. Now my benighted eyes are enlightened. I clearly discern the things that are excellent. What is there in the place whither I am going but God? Or what is there to be desired on earth but religion?’ But, if this God should restore you to health, said I, think you that you would alter your former course? ‘I call heaven and earth to witness,’ said he, ‘I would labour for holiness as I shall soon labour for life. As for riches and pleasures and the applauses of men, I account them as dross and dung; no more to my happiness than the feathers that lie on the floor. Oh! if the righteous Judge would try me once more; if He would but reprieve and spare me a little longer;—in what a spirit would I spend the remainder of my days! I would know no other business, aim at no other end, than perfecting myself in holiness. Whatever contributed to that,—every means of grace,—every opportunity of spiritual improvement,—should be dearer to me than thousands of gold and silver. But alas! why do I amuse myself with fond imaginations? The best resolutions are now insignificant, because they are too late. The day in which I should have worked is over and gone; and I see a sad horrible night approaching, bringing with it the blackness of darkness for ever. Heretofore, (woe is me!) when God called, I refused; when He invited, I was one of them that made excuse; now, therefore, I receive the reward of my deeds. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me. I smart; I am in anguish already; and yet this is but the beginning of sorrows! It doth not yet appear what I shall be;—but sure I shall be ruined, undone, and destroyed with an everlasting destruction.’

“This sad scene I saw with my eyes; these words, and many more equally affecting, I heard with my ears; and soon after attended the unhappy gentleman to his tomb. The poor breathless skeleton spoke in such an accent, and with so much earnestness, that I could not easily forget him or his words; and, as I was musing upon this sorrowful subject, I remembered Mr. Nash;—I remembered you, sir;—for I discerned too near an agreement and correspondence between the deceased and yourself. They, are alike, said I, in their ways; and what shall hinder them from being alike in their end? The course of their actions was equally full of sin and folly; and why should not the period of them be equally full of horror and distress? I am grievously afraid for the survivor, least, as he lives the life, so he should die the death of this wretched man, and his latter end should be like his.

“For this cause, therefore, I take my pen, to advise,—to admonish,—nay, to request of you to repent while you have opportunity, if happily you may find grace and forgiveness. Yet a moment, and you may die: yet a little while, and you must die; and will you go down with infamy and despair to the grave, rather than depart in peace, and with hopes full of immortality?

“But I must tell you plainly, sir, with the utmost freedom, that, your present behaviour is not the way to reconcile yourself to God. You are so far from making atonement to offended justice, that you are aggravating the former account, and heaping up an increase of wrath against the day of wrath. For what say the Scriptures? Those books which, at the consummation of all things, the Ancient of days shall open, and judge you by every jot and tittle therein—what say these sacred volumes? Why, they testify and declare to every soul of man, ‘That, whosoever liveth in pleasure is dead while he liveth’; so that, so long as you roll on in a continued circle of sensual delights and vain entertainments, you are dead to all the purposes of piety and virtue; you are odious to God, as a corrupt carcass putrifying in the church-yard; you are as far from doing your duty, or working out your salvation, or restoring yourself to the divine favour, as a heap of dry bones nailed up in a coffin is from vigour and activity.

“Think, sir, I conjure you, think upon this, if you have any inclination to escape the fire that never will be quenched. Would you be rescued from the fury and fierce anger of Almighty God? Would you be delivered from weeping, and wailing, and incessant gnashing of teeth? Sure you would! Then, I exhort you as a friend; I beseech you as a brother; I charge you as a messenger from the great God, in His own most solemn words: ‘Cast away from you your transgressions; make you a new heart and a new spirit; so iniquity shall not be your ruin.’

“Perhaps you may be disposed to contemn this and its serious import, or to recommend it to your companions as a fit subject for raillery; but, let me tell you beforehand, that for this, as well as for other things, God will bring you into judgment. He sees me now write. He will observe you while you read. He notes down my words in His book. He will note down your consequent procedure. So that, not upon me, but, upon your own self, will the neglecting or despising of my sayings turn. ‘If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself; if thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it.’

“Be not concerned, sir, to know my name. It is enough that you will know this hereafter. Tarry but a little, till the Lord, even the most mighty God, shall call the heaven from above, and the earth, that He may judge His people, and then you will see me face to face. There shall I be ready, at the dread tribunal, to joy and rejoice with you, if you regard my admonitions, and live; or to be—what God prevent—by not inclining your heart to receive this friendly admonition.”

This was plain dealing; but was greatly needed. To write such a letter, to such a man,—an accomplished gallant, exercising sovereignty over nearly all the fashionable residents of a gambling, dissipated city,—required no ordinary courage in a young clergyman, who had not yet attained his thirtieth year. How it was received, and what were its effects, we are left to guess; but it is a curious fact, that, it was not destroyed, but was found among Nash’s papers after his decease.

Leaving Bath, Hervey, in October, 1743, became curate to his father, at Weston-Favel, a small village of three or four hundred inhabitants, near Northampton; and here, in this rural seclusion, he continued to reside (with the exception of a short interval) until his death, in 1758.

His pastoral duties were comparatively light; but his time was not unoccupied. Compared with the career of Wesley and Whitefield, who were living a rough, itinerant life, this settlement of Hervey was a perfect contrast; but, it must be borne in mind, that, Hervey was physically unfit for the out-door preaching, which his two old Oxford friends were practising. His voice was unsuitable for such exercises. The exposure to rain, frost, and snow, would have made his brief life briefer still. Besides, the delicate gentleness of his nature totally disqualified him for encountering the hardships, privations, and persecutions of Wesley and Whitefield’s wandering life. It would be hasty to say, that, he was lacking in faith, love, zeal, prayer, and religious energy. He possessed all these in a far more than ordinary degree. In this respect he had but few equals, and scarcely any superiors. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. To imitate Wesley, Whitefield, Grimshaw, Berridge, was simply impossible; but Hervey did all he could. He most conscientiously cared for the souls of his handful of parishioners; and as conscientiously employed his leisure, not only in writing long religious letters to his absent friends, but, in composing books, which, as every one admits, breathe the devoutest piety, and which have been read, with pleasure and with profit, by thousands belonging to each successive generation during the last hundred and twenty years. Hervey’s life was not a failure, because the last fifteen years of it were spent in a secluded country village.

Apart from his ministerial duties, the first labour to which his attention was devoted, after his settlement at Weston-Favel, was the finishing and the publication of the well-known works begun in Devonshire, namely, “Meditations among the Tombs,” and “Reflections on a Flower Garden.” Hence the following:—

“At Mr. Thomas Hervey’s, in Basinghall Street, London, May 23, 1745.

“Dear Mr. ⸺,—You will be surprised when you observe the place from whence this letter is dated. Prevailed on by the kind solicitations of my friends, I have taken a trip to London, where I propose to continue about a fortnight.