Wesley Corpus

287 as the townsmen. In the evening, notwithstanding the cold and blustering winds, I was obliged to preach abroad at Tyrrel's Pass. But the rain on the two following evenings drove us into the House at Edinderry. Saturday, 4. Having now finished my circuit, I went on cheerfully to Dublin. Sun. 5.--Our House was throughly filled, a sight which I have seldom seen. Friday, 10, we observed as a day of fasting and prayer. It was at our last meeting that we found the answer of our prayers. It seemed as if the windows of heaven were opened; the Spirit of grace and supplication was poured out. Many were filled with consolation; and many who had grown weary resolved to set out anew. Tues. 14.--A poor backslider, whom I found ten days ago dying in black despair, told me, “Now I am not afraid to die. I see Jesus just before me, and his face is all glory.” Instances of this kind do by no means prove that a saint cannot fall, even for ever; but only that God is “pitiful, and of tender mercy, not willing any should perish.” Thur. 16.--About ten I reached Donard, seven or eight and twenty English miles from Dublin. Standing under some shady trees, I enforced upon a serious congregation, “All things are ready; come unto the marriage.” From hence I rode on to Baltinglass, and preached on, “By grace are ye saved through faith.” It was sultry hot as we rode to Carlow; so that I was weary and faint when we came in : But I soon recovered, and at seven preached in the Sessions House, to a numerous congregation. But the greater part of them were like blocks, and some like wild asses’ colts. I was constrained to reprove them sharply. They received it well, and behaved with more decency. Fri. 17.--We lost our way in setting out of the town. It rained most of the day: However, this was far better than sultry heat. In the evening we returned to Dublin. In my scraps of time this week I read over that wonderful poem, “Fingal.” If it is genuine, if it is really extant (as many assure me it is) in the Erse language, it is an amazing proof of a genius in those barbarous times, little inferior to Homer or Virgill Mon.