Wesley Corpus

9. When he returned from London in the same year, he was more frequently invited to preach in several of the neighbouring churches. And before his quitting the country he gave me a few printed papers, entitled, “A Christmas-box for Journey men and Apprentices.” I mention it the rather because I suppose this was the first thing which he ever published. 10. It was in the beginning of June, 1759, that he returned the last time from London to Tern-Hall; and being now less frequently called to public duty, he enjoyed his beloved retirement, giving himself up to study, meditation, and prayer, and walking closely with God. Indeed his whole life was now a life of prayer; and so intensely was his mind fixed upon God, that I have heard him say, “I would not move from my seat, without lifting up my heart to God.” Wherever we met, if we were alone, his first salute was, “Do I meet you praying?” And if we were talking on any point of divinity, when we were in the depth of our discourse, he would often break off abruptly, and ask, “Where are our hearts now 7” If ever the misconduct of an absent person was mentioned, his usual reply was, “Let us pray for him.” ll. It was, as I remember, about the close of this summer, that he was frequently desired, sometimes to assist, at other times to perform the whole service for, Mr. Chambers, then Vicar of Madeley. On these occasions it was, that he con tracted such an affection for the people of Madeley, as nothing could hinder from increasing more and more to the day of his death. While he officiated at Madeley, as he still lived at the Hall, ten miles distant from it, a groom was ordered to get a horse ready for him every Sunday morning. But so great was his aversion for giving trouble to any one, that if the groom did not wake at the time, he seldom would suffer him to be called, but prepared the horse for himself. 12. In answer to some queries concerning him, a gentle man who was intimately acquainted with him for many years wrote to me as follows:- “MY aversion to writing letters increases with my declining years. And yet I most willingly pay this debt to the precious memory of an old friend.