An epistle to the Reverend Mr. George Whitefield: written in the year MDCCLV. / By Charles Westley [sic], A.M. late student of Christ-Church, Oxford.

An epistle to the Reverend Mr. George Whitefield: written in the year MDCCLV. / By Charles Westley [sic], A.M. late student of Christ-Church, Oxford.

Table of contents

Title page

AN EPISTLE TO THE REVEREND Mr. GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

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AN EPISTLE TO THE REVEREND Mr. GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

COME on, my Whitefield! (since the strife is past,

And friends at first are friends again at last)

Our hands, and hearts, and counsels let us join

In mutual league, to advance the work Divine,

Our one contention now, our single aim.

To pluck poor souls as brands out of the flame;

To spread the victory of that bloody cross,

And gasp our latest breath in the Redeemer's cause.

Too long, alas! we gave to Satan place,

When party-zeal put on an angel's face,

Too long we hst'ned to the couz'ning fiend,

Whose trumpet sounded, "For the faith contend!"

[Page] With hasty blindfold rage, in error's night,

How did we with our fellow-soldiers fight!

We could not then our father's children know,

But each mistook his brother for his foe.

"Foes to the truth, can you in conscience space?

"Tear them, the (tempter cry'd) in pieces, tear!"

So thick the darkness, so confus'd the noise,

We took the stranger's for the shepherd's voice;

Rash nature wav'd the controversial sword,

On fire to fight the battles of the Lord,

Fraternal love from every breast was driv'n,

And bleeding Charity return'd to heaven.

The Saviour saw our strife with pitying eye,

And cast a look that made the shadows fly:

Soon as the day-spring in his presence shone,

We found the two fierce armies were but one;

Common our hope, and family, and name,

Our arms, our captain, and our crown the same,

Inlisted all beneath Emanuel's sign,

And purchas'd every soul with precious blood divine.

Then let us cordially again embrace,

Nor e'er infringe the league of gospel-grace;

Let us in Jesus' name to battle go,

And turn our arms against the common foe;

Fight side by side beneath our Captain's eye,

Chase the Philistines, on their shoulders fly,

And, more than conquerors, in the harness die.

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For whether I am born to "blush above,"

On earth suspicious of electing love,

Or you o'er whelm'd with honourable shame,

To shout the universsal Saviour's Name,

It matters not; if, all our conflicts past,

Before the great white throne we meet at last:

Our only care while sojourning below,

Our real Faith by real Love to show:

To blast the aliens' hope, and let them see

How friends of jarring sentiments agree:

Not in a party's narrow banks confin'd,

Not by a sameless of opinions join'd,

But cemented with the Redeemer's blood,

And bound together in the heart of God.

Can we forget from whence our union came,

When first we simply met in Jesus' name?

The name mysterious of the God unknown,

Whose secret love allur'd, and drew us on

Thro' a long, lonely, legal wilderness,

To find the promis'd land of gospel peace.

True yoke-fellows, we then agreed to draw

Th' intolerable burden of the Law,

And jointly lab'ring on with zealous strife,

Strengthen'd each other's hands to work for Life:

To turn against the world our steady face,

And, valiant for the truth, enjoy disgrace.

Then, when we serv'd our God thro' fear alone,

Our views, our studies, and our hearts were one;

[Page] No smallest difference damp'd the social flame:

In Moses' school we thought, and spake the same:

And must we, now in Christ, with shame confess,

Our love was greater when our light was less?

When darkly thro' a glass with servile awe,

We first the spiritual commandment saw,

Could we not then, our mutual love to show,

Thro' fire and water for each other go?

We could:—we did:—In a strange land I stood,

And beckon'd thee to cross th' Atlantic flood:

With true affection wing'd, thy ready mind,

Left country, fame, and ease, and friends behind,

And, eager all heav'ns counsels to explore,

Flew thro' the watry world and grasp'd the shore.

Nor did I linger, at my friend's desire,

To tempt the furnace, and abide the fire:

When suddenly sent forth, from the high-ways

I call'd poor out-casts to the feast of grace;

Urg'd to pursue the work by thee begun,

Thro' good and ill report, I still rush'd on,

Nor felt the fire of popular applause,

Nor sear'd the tort'ring flame in such a glorious cause

Ah! wherefore did we ever seem to part,

Or clash in sentiment, while one in heart?

What dire device did the old Serpent find,

To put asunder those whom God had join'd?

From folly and self-love Opinion rose,

To sever friends who never yet were foes;

[Page] To baffle and divert our noblest aim,

Confound our pride, and cover us with shame;

To make us blush beneath her short-liv'd pow'r,

And glad the world with one triumphant hour.

But lo! the snare is broke, the captive's freed,

By faith on all the hostile powers we tread,

And crush thro' Jesus' strength the Serpent's head.

Jesus hath cast the curst Accuser down,

Hath rooted up the tares by Satan sown:

Kindled anew the never-dying flame,

And re-baptiz'd our souls into his Name.

Soon as the virtue of his Name we seel,

The storm of strife subsides, the sea is still,

All nature bows to his benign command,

And two are one in his Almighty hand.

One in his hand, O may we still remain,

Fast bound with love's indissoluble chain;

(That adamant which time and death defies,

That golden chain which draws us to the skies!)

His love the tie that binds us to his throne,

His love the bond that perfects us in one;

His love (let all the ground of friendship see)

His only love constrains our hearts t'agree,

And gives the rivet of Eternity!

THE END.

§

§

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AN EPISTLE TO THE REVEREND Mr. GEORGE WHITEFIELD: Written in the Year MDCCLV.

By CHARLES WESTLEY, A. M. Late Student of Christ-Church, OXFORD.

LONDON, Printed— BALTIMORE: Re-printed and Sold by SAMUEL and JOHN ADAMS. MDCCXC.

Information about this book

Title statement

An epistle to the Reverend Mr. George Whitefield: written in the year MDCCLV. / By Charles Westley [sic], A.M. late student of Christ-Church, Oxford.

Wesley, Charles, 1707-1788.

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI :

Date

2011-05.

ID [DLPS]

N17806

ID [TCP]

N17806

ID [STC]

Evans 23064

ID [NOTIS]

APW2786

ID [IMAGE-SET]

23064

ID [EVANS-CITATION]

99008666

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This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 23064.

Notes

(Evans-TCP ; no. N17806)

Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 23064)

Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 23064)

Source

— An epistle to the Reverend Mr. George Whitefield: written in the year MDCCLV. / By Charles Westley [sic], A.M. late student of Christ-Church, Oxford., Wesley, Charles, 1707-1788..

Extent

7, [1] p. ; 17 cm. (8vo)

London: printed, Baltimore: re-printed and sold by Samuel and John Adams.,. [Baltimore] :: MDCCXC. [1790]. (In verse.)

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