"I'll praise my Maker while I've breath, And when my voice is
closed in death Praise shall employ my nobler powers."
At the Westminster Conference, Westminster Chapel, Wednesday 11th December
2002, Geoff Thomas gave a paper on "John Wesley - Bane or Blessing?"
This
is how he commenced his address:
When John Wesley was almost seventy years of age he was preaching in
Cornwall and had an evening engagement in a chapel in St. Ives. He had
lunch in the London Inn at Redruth and then got into his carriage and
proceeded to the Hayle estuary to cross the ford which would take them
to
the evening service. The carriage was driven by a local man called Peter
Martin, the hostler of the London Inn. He had put the two horses that
pulled Wesley's carriage into their shafts, and then had mounted the
right-hand animal to drive the carriage the twelve miles to Hayle. Wesley
was inside reading and writing.
The wind blew more strongly as they reached the coast, and as the road
dipped and petered out into beach and pebbles the prospect had a
threatening appearance. The tide was on the turn and the shore line was
growing narrower and the expanse of water steadily widening. St Ives could
be seen in the northwest on its low cliff opposite them, with their road
emerging from the sea. The estuary that lay between the carriage and that
town was now quickly filling with a surge of rough water and powerful
currents. Peter Martin stopped the carriage at the water's edge and weighed
up the situation. He called back to John Wesley and advised him that this
was going to be a dangerous crossing. While he was speaking to Wesley
a sea
captain walked up to the carriage (the man was waiting for the tide to
come
in for his boat to set sail) and this sailor counselled them, "Don't
even
consider it." Wesley listened politely to the hostler and the captain,
smiled and then said loudly, "Take the sea! Take the sea!"
So the hostler cracked his whip, spurred on the lead horse on which
he was
seated, and the carriage splashed into the estuary. Peter Martin never
forgot that crossing, describing it thus some years afterwards, "The
horses
were now swimming, and the carriage became nearly overwhelmed with the
tide, as its hinder wheels not infrequently merged into the deep pits
and
hollows in the sands. I struggled hard to maintain my seat in the saddle,
while the poor affrighted animals were snorting and rearing in the most
terrific manner and furiously plunging through the opposing waves. I
expected every moment to be swept into eternity, and the only hope of
escape I then cherished was on account of my driving so holy a man."
John Wesley put his head out of the window and shouted to him above
the
noise, and the hostler turned with some difficulty. He saw Wesley's face,
wet with the spray and waves; his hair was soaking. But the preacher was
looking calmly out of the windows interested in everything that was
happening, quite unperturbed by the tumult and storm. What did Wesley
want?" "Driver, what is your name?" he called out. "Peter,"
said the
hostler. "Peter, fear not," said Wesley, "thou shalt not
sink," and he
pulled his head in again. Peter Martin urged the horses on and indeed
they
crossed to the other side. "I'll always say it was a miracle,"
said the
driver. Then he added, "Mr. Wesley's first care was to see me comfortably
lodged at the tavern. He procured me warm clothes, a good fire, and
excellent refreshments. Nor were the horses forgotten by him. Totally
unmindful of himself, he proceeded, wet as he was, to the chapel, and
preached according to the appointment." The scene is so illustrative
of
Wesley's constraining love of preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. How
easily men today will cancel an appointment to preach the word of life
at a
church.
Wesley continued to preach for another eighteen years, sometimes a thousand
sermons in twelve months. His last message in the open air was preached
in
the autumn of 1790. He was 87 years of age. He had become so feeble that
each side of him a minister stood holding him up. His voice was weak,
but
his countenance was seraphic, his long white hair reaching to his
shoulders. There he stood under a great tree in Winchelsea. A tree stands
there today which was a cutting from the original tree. Wesley's text
was,
"The kingdom of heaven is at hand: repent and believe the gospel."
When he
reached the end and pronounced the benediction the congregation were aware
that this was probably the last time they would hear him. The tears of
the
people flowed freely.
John Wesley died four months later, three years after his brother Charles,
twenty-one years after George Whitefield. John Wesley often repeated these
words in his last illness, "I the chief of sinners am, but Jesus
died for
me." The hymn he sang on his deathbed (occasionally quite strongly)
was not
one of his own, nor his brother's. It was not even composed by a Methodist,
but rather Isaac Watts' appropriate hymn of hope and expectation at the
end,
"I'll praise my Maker while I've breath,
And when my voice is closed in death
Praise shall employ my nobler powers."
His last words were, "The best of all is God is with us."
The entire address will be published in the summer with the other five
addresses of the Conference.
