_It is not_ this _account which you had thus introduced; but another, and a very different one, of what happened a day or two before. Sunday, you mention her as being guilty of gross presumption,――――which you attribute to the power of the devil. But on Monday and Tuesday the opposite revelations happened, which――――you relate without the least mark of diffidence or blame._ (page 131)
I am grieved that you constrain me to say any more. In the 66th and 67th page of the last journal, I gave an account of Mrs. _Jones_, which I term, “a surprizing instance of the power of the devil.” It includes the occurrences of three days. This you brought as a proof of my enthusiasm. I answer, “the very words that introduce _this account_,” prove it is no instance of enthusiasm: meaning by _this account_ (as I suppose is plain to every reader,) the following account of Mrs. _Jones_. You reply. _It is not this account, which you had thus introduced, but another, and a very different one, of what happened a day or two before._ Sir, it is the whole account of Mrs. _Jones_ which I thus introduce; and not _another_; not a _very different_ one. And I attribute the agony which she (Mrs. _Jones_) was in; and most of the words which she spoke, both on _Sunday_, _Monday_ and _Tuesday_, not to the Spirit of God, but to the _power of the devil_.
6. The next instance, which you relate as an instance of despair, is that of a young woman of _Kingswood_; which you break off with, “_Take me away_,” &c. (page 112.) But why did you not decypher that, _&c._ Why did you not add the rest of the paragraph? Because it would have spoiled your whole argument. It would have shewn what the end of the Lord was, in permitting that severe visitation. The words are, (Journal 3, page 93.) “We interrupted her by calling again upon God, on which she sunk down as before (as one asleep) and another young woman began to roar as loud as she had done. My brother now came in, it being about nine o’clock. We continued in prayer till past eleven: when God in a moment spoke peace into the soul, first, of the first tormented, and then of the other. And they both joined in singing praises to him, who had stilled the enemy and the avenger.”
7. I am sorry to find you still affirm, that with regard to the Lord’s supper also, I _advance many injudicious, false and dangerous things. Such as, 1. That “a man ought to communicate, without a sure trust in God’s mercy through Christ_, (page 117.)” You make these as my words; but I know them not.――――2. “_That there is no previous preparation_ indispensably _necessary, but a desire to receive whatsoever God pleases to give_.”――――But I include abundantly more in that desire, than you seem to apprehend; even a willingness to know and do the will of God.――――3. “_That no fitness is required at the time of communicating_, (I recite the whole sentence) _but a sense of our state, of our utter sinfulness and helplessness! Every one who knows he is fit for hell, being just fit to come to Christ, in this, as well as in all other ways of his appointment._”――――But neither can this sense of our utter sinfulness and helplessness subsist, without earnest desires of universal holiness.――――_There was another passage_ (you say) _which you chose to omit_. (page 118.) Which this was, I do not understand. Nor do I perceive any one of these dreadful positions (as you stile them) to be contrary to the word of God.
8. You will likewise at all hazards stand your ground, as to the charge of _stoical insensibility_. I answered before, (page 36.) How do you support the charge? _Why thus,――――You say, the servants of God suffer nothing._――――And can you possibly misunderstand these words, if you read those that immediately follow? “His body was well nigh torn asunder with pain. But God made all his bed in his sickness. So that he was continually giving thanks to God, and making his boast of his praise.”
You reply, (118) _If you meant no more than that a man under the sharpest pains, may be thankful to God, why did you call this a strange truth_?――――Because I think it is so. I think it exceeding strange, that one in such a degree of pain, should be continually giving thanks to God. Not that I suppose him _insensible of his torments_. “His body, I say, was well nigh torn asunder with pain.” But the love of God so abundantly overbalanced all pain, that it was nothing to him.
_The next instance is as follows. One told you, Sir, I thought last week there could be no such rest as you describe; none in this world wherein we should be so free, as not to desire ease in pain. But God has taught me better. For on Friday and Saturday, when I was in the strongest pain, I never once had one moment’s desire of ease_ (add, “but only that the will of God might be done.”)