Read Ebook: Fletcher of Madeley by Allen Margaret Railton George S George Scott Author Of Introduction Etc

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For eighteen months Fletcher studied English at a school in Hertfordshire, and afterwards became tutor to the two sons of a Member of Parliament named Hill.

He little knew then how important a link in the providential chain was that appointment. Up to this time, although he had deeply appreciated religion, had read his Bible and prayed much, using any leisure he could gain between his ordinary studies for the research of prophecy and the perusal of devotional books, yet he lacked any experience of living union with God; joy in Christ was an unknown bliss; the "peace which passeth all understanding" was unrevealed to him. To his brother Henry he thus described his condition:--

"My feelings were easily excited, but my heart was rarely affected, and I was destitute of a sincere love to God, and consequently to my neighbour. All my hopes of salvation rested on my prayers, devotions, and a certain habit of saying, 'Lord, I am a great sinner; pardon me for the sake of Jesus Christ!' In the meantime I was ignorant of the fall and ruin in which every man is involved, the necessity of a Redeemer, and the way by which we may be rescued from the fall by receiving Christ with a living faith. I should have been quite confounded if anyone had asked me the following questions: 'Do you know that you are dead in Adam? Do you live to yourself? Do you live in Christ and for Christ? Does God rule in your heart? Do you experience that peace of God which passeth all understanding? Is the love of God shed abroad in your heart by the Holy Spirit?'"

A vivid dream concerning the Day of Judgment was used to arouse him, and for some days he was so depressed and harassed in mind that he could not settle to any occupation for long together. Sunday arrived; no teaching demanded his mental application; he wandered listlessly from place to place, miserable and dejected. At length he sat down to copy some music. The door opened and in walked the butler, an old servant of the family, and a countryman of Fletcher's. For a moment he paused, then approaching the tutor, said firmly, but respectfully:--

"Sir, I am surprised that you, who know so many things, should forget what day this is, and that you should not be aware that the Lord's Day should be sanctified in a very different manner."

The man was a true Christian, deeply humble, and full of zealous love for God. The knowledge of many things he had borne patiently for Christ, coupled with the strange power with which he spoke, smote the tutor with a sense of his own shortcomings, and made him exclaim to his own heart, "I am not renewed in the spirit of my mind, and without this the death of Christ will not avail for my salvation!"

Not long after this Mr. Hill went up to London to attend Parliament, accompanied by his tutor and family. On the road they stayed for a meal and to change horses at St. Albans, and Fletcher went for a brisk walk through the streets to stretch his limbs.

The horses were put to, but the tutor did not appear. After some delay the post-chaise drove off, a horse being left in readiness for the tutor to mount and ride after them. When in the evening he overtook the party, Mr. Hill enquired why he stayed behind. He replied, "As I was walking I met with a poor old woman, who talked so sweetly of Jesus Christ that I knew not how the time passed away."

"I shall wonder," said Mrs. Hill, "if our tutor does not turn Methodist by-and-by."

"Methodist, Madame!" asked he, puzzled; "pray what is that?"

"Why, the Methodists are a people that do nothing but pray," was her rejoinder; "they are praying all day and all night."

He not only "found them out," but joined a Methodist society, meeting with them whenever an opportunity presented itself.

Fletcher could not readily rid himself of the idea that "much doing" would make him acceptable unto God. Gradually, however, he was brought to consider the value of "saving faith," and writes in his diary:--

"On January 21st I began to write a confession of my sins, misery, and helplessness, together with a resolution to seek Christ even unto death, but, my business calling me away, I had no heart to go on with it. In the evening I read the Scriptures, and found a sort of pleasure in seeing a picture of my wickedness so exactly drawn in the third chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, and that of my condition in the seventh; and now I felt some hope that God would finish in me the work He had begun."

"Having withstood two or three temptations, and feeling peace in my soul through the whole of them, I began to think it was the Lord's doing. Afterwards it was suggested to me that it was great presumption for such a sinner to hope for such a mercy. I prayed I might not be permitted to fall into a delusion; but the more I prayed the more I saw it was real, for though sin stirred all the day long, I always overcame it in the name of the Lord.

"In the evening I read some of the experiences of God's children, and found my case agreed with theirs, and suited the sermon I had heard on Justifying Faith. I called on the Lord for perseverance and an increase of faith, for still I felt some fear lest this should be all delusion. Having continued my supplication till near one in the morning, I then opened my Bible and fell on these words, 'Cast thy burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain thee. He will never suffer the righteous to be moved.' Filled with joy, I fell on my knees to beg of God that I might always cast my burden upon Him. I took up my Bible again, and fell on these words, 'I will be with thee; I will not fail thee, neither forsake thee; fear not, neither be dismayed.' My hope was now greatly increased, and I thought I saw myself conqueror over sin, hell, and all manner of affliction.

"With this beautiful promise I shut my Bible, and as I shut it I cast my eye on the words, 'Whatsoever ye shall ask in My name I will do it.' So, having asked perseverance and grace to serve God till death, I went cheerfully to take my rest."

GIVEN UP TO THE FIGHT

Not content, as many are, with consciousness of sins forgiven, Fletcher at once began to plead that God would take fullest possession of his heart, and grant to him a deeper experience of His love. While lying upon his face in earnest prayer the Saviour strangely manifested Himself to his eye of faith, and it was revealed to him that Jesus had wondrously become his soul's inmost life, abiding in him to conquer sin.

This completely changed his spiritual position. The blessed realisation that in Christ he could triumph over sin and keep the world beneath his feet, filled him with a glad sense of freedom. He resolved that nothing should prevent him from experiencing this to the full: he gave all his leisure to prayer and meditation, living on vegetables, bread, milk and water, that he might be able to save time from the long courses of dinner, many a day lunching in the garden from a piece of bread and a few bunches of currants; also making it a rule to do without sleep two nights of each week in order to pray.

This extremely rigid rule of life was a mistake. Lack of proper rest and food at this period undoubtedly laid the foundation of his subsequent delicacy. Most men attend to the cravings of the body to the expense of the lightly-fed soul; all his life Fletcher gave less heed to physical needs than his not-too-robust frame required, and he paid the penalty.

As a natural gift, Fletcher possessed a very sweet and gentle spirit. Companionship with Christ grafted upon this an unusual humility, as simple as it was sincere. An instance of this is found in the fact that when the clergyman of Atcham Church invited adults who required instruction to join the children's catechumen class, gifted scholar though he was, he stepped out and took his place by the little ones as a matter of course, unmoved by the fact that he was the only adult who did not despise the proffered instruction.

Prayer, with Fletcher, was not a duty but a refreshment and an inspiration. Every Sunday morning, between four and five, and two or three nights in the week, after his pupils were asleep, he used to go out into the meadows, or on to the banks of the Severn, to meet an Excise Officer, a servant, and a poor widow. These four would pour out their whole souls to God in prayer, and wonderful were the manifestations of Divine love and grace vouchsafed to them.

The poor of Atcham village and its neighbourhood grew well accustomed to the fine, pure face of the Tern Hall tutor; sickness always drew him, and were there none at hand to nurse them as they needed he was quick to give help.

Thus continually brought face to face with the needs of ignorant and uncared-for men, it was no wonder that Fletcher should return to the thought of devoting himself altogether to ministering the gospel of the grace of God. Before taking any step towards such a life, however, he asked the advice of John Wesley, whom he already looked upon as his spiritual guide. Apparently the answer he received was encouraging, for less than four months after he put the question, John Fletcher was ordained as a clergyman of the Church of England.

Straight from his ordination service in the Chapel Royal at St. James's, Fletcher hurried to Snowsfields Methodist Chapel to assist Wesley in a service there--a sufficiently unusual commencement of a clergyman's career!

TURNED FROM HOME.

Mary Bosanquet's determination to lay aside the ordinary pleasures of girlhood, and live a life of waiting upon God for the revelation of His will, came just two months after John Fletcher's ordination. Little enough happened to her for a couple of years, save that she succeeded in increasingly impressing those around her that it was useless to invite her into paths of worldliness and frivolity. When a girl of nineteen she stayed for seven weeks in Bristol, renewing there her friendship with Miss Sarah Ryan--to whom Fletcher wrote some of his famous letters--through whom, and through Mrs. Crosby, Mary was introduced to her future husband.

When she came of age Mary Bosanquet found herself mistress of her personal fortune, and more strongly than ever was she assured that she might do better work for God if she left her own home. Always afraid of moving before the Guiding Pillar, however, she feared exceedingly to take this step unless the express command were laid upon her.

One day her father asked for her solemn promise that she would not try to persuade her brothers to follow Christ.

"I am afraid I cannot promise that, father," she replied.

"Then you will force me to put you out of the house," was his rejoinder.

In preparation for whatever might follow, Mary took a lodging, and waited until she should be told to go, which quickly happened.

It was a pathetic departure. Before dinner a message reached her by a servant that she had better go to her lodging that night. During the meal no word was said, and Mary's heart was wrung by sorrowful questionings. "How shall I go, if they say no more to me? How shall I bear it, if they never invite me to see them again?"

Dinner being at last concluded, and the carriage announced, Mrs. Bosanquet swept out into the hall, remarking casually to Mary as she passed by :--

"If you will, the coach, when it has set us down, may carry you home to your lodgings."

"And we shall be glad to see you to dinner on Sunday," added her father.

Mary choked and could not reply, but she quickly recovered sufficiently to order her trunk downstairs, and, when cloaked and hooded, she passed down the staircase, she found all the servants assembled in a row to bid her farewell with tears.

The two rooms she had taken were fireless, dark, and unfurnished. A table and candlestick were quickly borrowed, and Mary sat down upon a broad window-seat to ponder what was to her a strange situation.

No beds could be put up at so late an hour; blinds and curtains were not in evidence. Mary Bosanquet lay that night upon the bare floor, and the pure, clear moonlight shone coldly upon her as she lay, but the fire of Divine love burned warm within her heart; she communed with her God in utter content.

THE TERN HALL TUTOR.

For three years after his ordination Fletcher received no church appointment. He remained as tutor at Tern Hall, and preached wherever he could find an opening, either in French or in English.

Amongst ordinary church-goers his decided utterances made him far from popular, but the warm hearts of the Methodist people bade him hearty welcome, and these he learned to love truly and well. They introduced him to "many honourable women," several of whom became his friends and correspondents; none of them, however, impressed him as did Mary Bosanquet.

In writing to her brother nearly twenty-five years later he said of this meeting: "It was soon after my ordination that I saw Miss Mary Bosanquet. I had resolved not to marry, but the sweetness of her temper and her devotedness to God made me think that if ever I broke through my resolution it would be to cast my lot with one like her."

One may judge of the quiet but strong influence Fletcher exerted in his neighbourhood by an incident which happened during that autumn. To Tern Hall one night came a messenger from Salop, asking urgently for "the tutor." The letter he delivered bore no name, but it begged Mr. Fletcher to hasten at once to a certain inn, where he might find a soul who wanted God. Without a question the tutor set out on his five- mile walk, not knowing whether beggar or duke demanded his help. He found the eldest son of a baronet, whom God's Spirit had rendered so strangely wretched on account of sin that he could neither eat nor sleep. Doctors had done their best to remove this remarkable malady, but the one remedy lay in the touch of the hand of the Great Physician, and, almost in despair, his soul cried, "Oh, that I knew where I might find Him!"

The visit of that October night resulted in correspondence which was blessed to Sir Richard Hill's conversion, although the young man became in later years one of Fletcher's most active opponents in a doctrinal controversy.

This time of waiting for God to show his future sphere of work was much blessed to Fletcher in spiritually preparing him for it. Through an incident in which he was much misunderstood by many, he learned the all-important lesson to a preacher, that a sermon full of the most vigorous ideas is as nothing if not inspired by the living Spirit.

His own account of the matter is brief but instructive:--

"Just as I was going to resume my daily course of business I was called to preach in a church at Salop, and was obliged to compose a sermon in the moments I should have spent in prayer. Hurry and the want of a single eye drew a veil between the prize and my soul. In the meantime Sunday came, and God rejected my impure service and abhorred the labour of my polluted soul; and while others imputed my not preaching to the fear of the minister who had invited me to his pulpit, and to the threatenings of a mob, I saw the wisdom and holiness of God, and rejoiced in that providence which does all without the assistance of hurrying Uzzah."

During the famous earthquake of nine years before a little Welsh girl named Mary Price was then attending a London school. The children were frightened nearly out of their wits by the upheaval, the crash of broken glass, the long subterranean rumbling, and, in common with many London residents, in that hour little Mary promised to serve God. For nine years she strove and prayed, but found no way by which she could come near to Him. Persuaded by a friend who knew her inward sorrow, she sought out the despised Methodist meeting-house in Seven Dials, and there heard Fletcher preaching for his "one soul." Light flashed through all her being as she listened, and that morning Mary Price saw the "Way" to unerring "Truth" and everlasting "Life," entering later on into lifelong communion with Him whom her spirit had so earnestly sought.

For fifty-nine years Mary was a shining light in the kingdom of grace.

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