Sunday, January 1, 1738: All in
the ship (except the captain and the steersman) were present both at the
morning and the evening service, and appeared as deeply attentive as even the
poor people of Frederica did, while the Word of God was new to their ears. And
it may be one or two among these likewise may ‘bring forth fruit with
patience’.
Mon 2 Jan 1738: Being sorrowful
and very heavy (though I could give no particular reason for it) and utterly
unwilling to speak close to any of my little flock (about twenty persons), I
was in doubt whether my neglect of them was not one cause of my own heaviness.
In the evening, therefore, I began instructing the cabin-boy, after which I was
much easier.
I went several times the following days
with a design to speak to the sailors, but could not. I mean, I was quite
averse from speaking—I could not see how to make an occasion, and it seemed
quite absurd to speak without. Is not this what men commonly mean by, ‘I could
not speak’? And is this a sufficient cause of silence, or no? Is it a
prohibition from the good Spirit? Or a temptation from nature or the evil one?
Fri 6 Jan 1738: I ended the
abridgment of Mr. de Renty’s life. O that such a life should be related by such
a historian! Who by inserting all, if not more than all the weak things that
holy man ever said or did, by his commendation of almost every action or word
which either deserved or needed it not, and by his injudicious manner of
relating many others which were indeed highly commendable; has cast the shade of
superstition and folly over one of the brightest patterns of heavenly wisdom.
Sat 7 Jan 1738: I began to read
and explain some passages of the Bible to the young Negro. The next morning
another Negro who was on board desired to be a hearer too. From them I went to
the poor Frenchman, who, understanding no English, had none else in the ship
with whom he could converse. And from this time I read and explained to him a
chapter in the Testament every morning.
Sun 8 Jan 1738: In the fullness
of my heart I wrote the following words:
By the most infallible of proofs, inward
feeling, I am convinced:
1. Of unbelief, having no such faith in
Christ as will prevent my heart from being troubled; which it could not be if I
believed in God, and rightly believed also in him [i.e., Christ].
2. Of pride, throughout my life past,
inasmuch as I thought I had what I find I have not.
3. Of gross irrecollection, inasmuch as in
a storm I cry to God every moment, in a calm, not.
4. Of levity and luxuriancy of spirit,
recurring whenever the pressure is taken off, and appearing by my speaking
words not tending to edify; but most, by my manner of speaking of my enemies.
‘Lord save, or I perish!’ Save me,
1. By such a faith as implies peace in life
and in death.
2. By such humility as may fill my heart
from this hour for ever with a piercing, uninterrupted sense, Nihil est quod
hactenus feci, having evidently built without foundation.
3. By such a recollection as may cry to
thee every moment, especially when all is calm, Give me faith or I die; give me
a lowly spirit; otherwise Mihi non sit suave vivere.
4. By steadiness, seriousness, sobriety of spirit, avoiding as fire every
word that tendeth not to edifying, and never speaking of any who oppose me, or
sin against God, without all my own sins set in array before my face.
This morning, after explaining those words
of St. Paul, ‘I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present
your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God’, I exhorted my
fellow-travellers with all my might to comply with the Apostle’s direction. But
leaving them afterwards to themselves, the seriousness they showed at first
soon vanished away.
On Monday 9 Jan 1738, and the following days, I
reflected much on that vain desire which had pursued me for so many years, of
being in solitude in order to be a Christian. I have now, thought I, solitude
enough. But am I therefore the nearer being a Christian? Not if Jesus Christ be
the model of Christianity. I doubt indeed I am much nearer that mystery of Satan
which some writers affect to call by that name. So near that I had probably
sunk wholly into it had not the great mercy of God just now thrown me upon
reading St. Cyprian’s Works. ‘O my soul, come not thou into their secret!’
‘Stand thou in the good old paths.’
Fri 13 Jan 1738: We had a
thorough storm, which obliged us to shut all close, the sea breaking over the
ship continually. I was at first afraid; but cried to God and was strengthened.
Before ten I lay down, I bless God, without fear. About midnight we were awaked
by a confused noise of seas and wind and men’s voices, the like to which I had
never heard before. The sound of the sea breaking over and against the sides of
the ship I could compare to nothing but large cannon or American thunder. The
rebounding, starting, quivering motion of the ship much resembled what is said
of earthquakes. The captain was upon deck in an instant. But his men could not
hear what he said. It blew a proper hurricane; which beginning at south-west,
then went west, north-west, north, and in a quarter of an hour round by the
east to the south-west point again. At the same time the sea running (as they
term it) mountain high, and that from many different points at once, the ship
would not obey the helm; nor indeed could the steersman, through the violent
rain, see the compass. So he was forced to let her run before the wind, and in
half an hour the stress of the storm was over.
About noon the next day it ceased. But
first I had resolved, God being my helper, not only to preach it to all, but to
apply the Word of God to every single soul in the ship; and if but one, yea, if
not one of them will hear, I know ‘my labour is not in vain’.
I no sooner executed this resolution than
my spirit revived, so that from this day I had no more of that fearfulness and
heaviness which before almost continually weighed me down. I am sensible one
who thinks the being in orco, as they phrase it, an indispensable preparative
for being a Christian, would say I had better have continued in that state, and
that this unseasonable relief was a curse, not a blessing. Nay, but who art
thou, O man, who in favour of a wretched hypothesis thus blasphemest the good
gift of God? Hath he not himself said, ‘This also is the gift of God, if a man
have power to rejoice in his labour’? Yea, God setteth his own seal to his weak
endeavours, while he thus ‘answereth him in the joy of his heart’.
Tue 24 Jan 1738: We spoke with
two ships, outward bound, from whom we had the welcome news of our wanting but
160 leagues of the Land’s End. My mind was now full of thought, part of which I
writ down as follows:
I went to America
I have a sin of fear, that when I’ve spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore!
I think verily, if the gospel be true, I am
safe. For I not only have given, and do give, all my goods to feed the poor; I
not only give my body to be burned, drowned, or whatever God shall appoint for
me, but I follow after charity (though not as I ought, yet as I can) if haply I
may attain it. I now believe the gospel is true. ‘I show my faith by my works,’
by staking my all upon it. I would do so again and again a thousand times, if
the choice were still to make. Whoever sees me sees I would be a Christian.
Therefore ‘are my ways not like other men’s ways’. Therefore I have been, I am,
I am content to be, ‘a by-word, a proverb of reproach’. But in a storm I think,
‘What if the gospel be not true?’ Then thou art of all men most foolish. For
what hast thou given thy goods, thy ease, thy friends, thy reputation, thy
country, thy life? For what art thou wandering over the face of the earth? A
dream, ‘a cunningly devised fable’? O who will deliver me from this fear of
death! What shall I do? Where shall I fly from it? Should I fight against it by
thinking, or by not thinking of it? A wise man advised me some time since, ‘Be
still and go on.’ Perhaps this is best, to look upon it as my cross; when it
comes, to let it humble me, and quicken all my good resolutions, especially
that of praying without ceasing; and at other times to take no thought about
it, but quietly to go on ‘in the work of the Lord’.
We went on with a small, fair wind, till
Thursday in the afternoon, and then sounding, found a whitish sand at seventy-five
fathom. But having had no observation for several days, the Captain began to be
uneasy, fearing we might either get unawares into the Bristol
Channel , or strike in the night on the rocks of Scilly.
Sat 28 Jan 1738: Was another
cloudy day; but about ten in the morning (the wind continuing southerly) the
clouds began to fly just contrary to the wind, and to the surprise of us all
sunk down under the sun, so that at noon we had an exact observation; and by
this we found we were as well as we could desire, about eleven leagues south of
Scilly.
Sun 29 Jan 1738: We saw English
land once more, which about noon appeared to be the Lizard Point. We ran by it
with a fair wind, and at noon the next day made the west end of the Isle of Wight .
Here the wind turned against us, and in the
evening blew fresh, so that we expected (the tide being likewise strong against
us) to be driven some leagues backward in the night; but in the morning, to our
great surprise, we saw Beachy Head just before us, and found we had gone
forwards near forty miles.
Toward evening was a calm; but in the night
a strong north wind brought us safe into the Downs .
The day before Mr. Whitefield had sailed out, neither of us then knowing
anything of the other.
