Wesley Corpus

Tues. 13.--We rode over to Gloster, a beautiful seat, built by an English gentleman, who had scarce finished his house, and laid out his gardens, when he was called to his everlasting home. Sir L P. and his lady dined with us, whether coming by accident or design I know not. About five I preached m the stately saloon, to a little company of plain, serious people ; the fine ones looking on, and some of them seeming to be a little affected. 1 expounded at Birr about seven, in the strongest manner I could, the story of Dives and Lazarus. Wed. 14.--We designed to dine at Ferbane, about twelve miles from Birr. We stopped at the first inn in the town; but they did not care te i 454 REV. J. WESLEY’S JOURNAL. [June, 1749, entertain heretics ; neither did the people at the second inn: I alighted at the third, and went in, without asking any questions. Here I met with a woman very sick and very serious. Some of her neighbours quickly gathered about us, and we endeavoured to improve the opportunity. After some time spent in close conversation and prayer, we parted in much love. About seven I preached at Athlone. It being the time of the general review, abundance of soldiers and many officers were present. They all behaved with the utmost decency. Buta gentleman of the town did not; which had like to have cost him dear. Many swords were drawn ; but the officers interposed, and it went no further. Sat. 17.--The wind being very tempestuous in the evening, I preached in our new-built house. Toward the close of the sermon, I asked, ‘ Which of you will give yourself, soul and body, to God?” One cried out, with a cry that almost shook the house, “ O, I will, I will.” And as soon as she could stand, she came forth in the midst, to witness it before all the congregation. It was Mrs. Glass. Her words pierced like lightning. Presently another witnessed the same resolution. And not long after, one who had been sorrowing as without hope, Mrs. Meecham, lifted up her head with joy, and continued singing and praising God to the dawn of the next day.