1743. Saturday, January 1.—Between Doncaster and Epworth I overtook one who immediately accosted me with so many and so impertinent questions that I was quite amazed. In the midst of some of them, concerning my travels and my journey, I interrupted him and asked, “Are you aware that we are on a longer journey; that we are traveling toward eternity?” He replied instantly, “Oh, I find you! I find you! I know where you are! Is not your name Wesley? ‘Tis pity! ‘Tis great pity! Why could not your father’s religion serve you? Why must you have a new religion?” I was going to reply, but he cut me short by crying out in triumph, “I am a Christian! I am a Christian! I am a Churchman! I am a Churchman! I am none of your Culamites”; as plainly as he could speak; for he was so drunk he could but just keep his seat. Having then clearly won the day, or as his phrase was, “put them all down,” he began kicking his horse on both sides and rode off as fast as he could.
Wesley Refused the Sacrament at Epworth
In the evening I reached Epworth. Sunday, 2. At five I preached on “So is everyone that is born of the Spirit.” About eight I preached from my father’s tomb on Hebrews 8:11. Many from the neighboring towns asked if it would not be well, as it was sacrament Sunday, for them to receive it. I told them, “By all means: but it would be more respectful first to ask Mr. Romley, the curate’s leave.” One did so, in the name of the rest; to whom he said, “Pray tell Mr. Wesley, I shall not give him the sacrament; for he is not fit.”
How wise a God is our God! There could not have been so fit a place under heaven where this should befall me first as my father’s house, the place of my nativity, and the very place where, “according to the straitest sect of our religion,” I had so long “lived a Pharisee”! It was also fit, in the highest degree, that he who repelled me from that very table, where I had myself so often distributed the bread of life, should be one who owed his all in this world to the tender love which my father had shown to his, as well as personally to himself.
Tuesday, 22.—I went to South Biddick, a village of colliers seven miles southeast of Newcastle. The spot where I stood was just at the bottom of a semicircular hill, on the rising sides of which many hundreds stood; but far more on the plain beneath. I cried to them in the words of the prophet, “O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!” [Ezek. 37:4]. Deep attention sat on every face; so that here also I believe it would be well to preach weekly.
Wesley and the Cock-fighter
Wednesday, 23.—I met a gentleman in the streets cursing and swearing in so dreadful a manner that I could not but stop him. He soon grew calmer; told me he must treat me with a glass of wine; and that he would come and hear me, only he was afraid I should say something against fighting of cocks.
April 1. (Being Good Friday.)—I had a great desire to visit a little village called Placey, about ten measured miles north of Newcastle. It is inhabited by colliers only, and such as had been always in the first rank for savage ignorance and wickedness of every kind. Their grand assembly used to be on the Lord’s day; on which men, women, and children met together to dance, fight, curse and swear, and play at chuck ball, spanfarthing, or whatever came next to hand. I felt great compassion for these poor creatures from the time I heard of them first; and the more, because all men seemed to despair of them.
Between seven and eight I set out with John Healy, my guide. The north wind, being unusually high, drove the sleet in our face, which froze as it fell and cased us over presently. When we came to Placey, we could very hardly stand. As soon as we were a little recovered I went into the square and declared Him who “was wounded for our transgressions” and “bruised for our iniquities.” The poor sinners were quickly gathered together and gave earnest heed to the things which were spoken. And so they did in the afternoon again, in spite of the wind and snow, when I besought them to receive Him for their King; to “repent and believe the gospel.”
Wesley in Seven Dials
Sunday, May 29.—I began officiating at the chapel in West Street, near the Seven Dial, of which (by a strange chain of providences) we have a lease for several years. I preached on the gospel for the day, part of the third chapter of St. John; and afterwards administered the lord’s Supper to some hundreds of communicants. I was a little afraid at first that my strength would not suffice for the business of the day, when a service of five hours (for it lasted from ten to three) was added to my usual employment. But God looked to that: so I must think; and they that will call it enthusiasm may. I preached at the Great Gardens at five to an immense congregation on “Ye must be born again””[John 3:3]. Then the leaders met (who filled all the time that I was not speaking in public); and after them, the bands. At ten at night I was less weary than at six in the morning.
Sunday, July 10 (Newcastle).—I preached at eight on Chowden Fell on “Why will ye die, O house of Israel?” [Ezek. 33:11]. Ever since I came to Newcastle the first time, my spirit had been moved within me at the crowds of poor wretches who were every Sunday in the afternoon sauntering to and fro on the Sandhill. I resolved, if possible, to find them a better employ; and as soon as the service at All Saints was over, walked straight from the church to the Sandhill and gave out a verse of a Psalm. In a few minutes I had company enough, thousands upon thousands crowding together. But the prince of this world fought with all his might lest his kingdom should be overthrown. Indeed, the very mob of Newcastle, in the height of their rudeness, have commonly some humanity left. I scarcely observed that they threw anything at all; neither did I receive the least personal hurt: but they continued thrusting one another to and fro and making such a noise that my voice could not be heard: so that, after spending nearly an hour in singing and prayer, I thought it best to adjourn to our own house.