Fletcher’s correspondence was an unusually heavy one; his letters make quite as spiritual reading as his sermons, yet he gave the choicest of reasons for not writing to one man who expected a letter: “Tell Mr. Keen,” he wrote to Whitefield, “I am a letter in his debt, and postpone writing it till I have had such a sight of Christ as to breathe His love through every line.”

Many pearls of thought were contained in these epistles; while the advice in them was quaintly put, it was always helpful, and never hurled at random.

“Your dulness in private prayer,” wrote he to Miss Hatton, “arises from the want of familiar friendship with Jesus To obviate it, go to your closet as if you were going to meet your dearest friend; cast yourself at His feet, bemoan your coldness, extol His love to you, and let your heart break with a desire to love Him Get recollection —­a dwelling within ourselves—­a being abstracted from the creature and turned towards God For want of such a frame, our times of prayer are frequently dry and useless; imagination prevails, and the heart wanders, whereas we pass easily from recollection to delightful prayer.”

To the same person, however, he recommended the cultivation of a wholesome naturalness in religion which would ensure acknowledgment of its beauty in those around her:—­

“There is no sin in looking cheerful. ’Rejoice evermore’; and if it is our duty always to be filled with joy, it is our duty to appear what we are in reality I hope, however, your friends know how to distinguish between cheerfulness and levity.

“Beware of stiff singularity in things barely indifferent: it is self in disguise; and it is so much the more dangerous when it comes recommended by a serious, self-denying, religious appearance.”

It is evident from a glance at his correspondence that Fletcher’s extremely frugal habits and large generosity to others gave not a little anxiety to those who loved him A wealthy merchant of Bristol, named Mr. Ireland, a constant, true, and close friend, sent him a parcel of broadcloth as a gift, beseeching him kindly not to send his coat again to be patched His thanks were thus concluded:—­

“Your broadcloth can lap me round two or three times; but the mantle of Divine love, the precious fine robe of Jesus’s righteousness, can cover your soul a thousand times The cloth, fine and good as it is, will not keep out a hard shower; but that garment of salvation will keep out even a shower of brimstone and fire Your cloth will wear out; but that fine linen, the righteousness of saints, will appear with a finer lustre the more it is worn The moth may fret your present, or the tailor may spoil it in cutting it, but the present which Jesus has made you is out of reach of the spoiler, and ready for present wear Let me beseech you, my dear friend, to accept of this heavenly present as I accept of your earthly one I did not send you one farthing to purchase it; it came unsought, unasked, unexpected, as the seed of the woman came. It came just as I was sending a tailor to buy me cloth for a new coat, and I hope when you next see me it will be in your present; now let Jesus see you in His Accept it freely Wear no more the old rusty coat of nature and self-righteousness. Send no more to have it patched Make your boast of an unbought suit, and love to wear the livery of Jesus.”

John Fletcher’s letters all tended to the same point as his sermons—­a personal appeal to the soul to whom he addressed himself. To the Rev Joseph Benson he wrote:—­

“The few professors I see in these parts are so far from what I could wish them and myself to be, that I cannot but cry out, ’Lord, how long wilt Thou give Thine heritage to desolation and barrenness? How long shall the heathen say, Where is now their indwelling God?’ I hope it is better with you in the north What are your heart, your pen, your tongue doing? Are they receiving, sealing, spreading the truth everywhere within your sphere? Are you dead to praise or dispraise? Could you quietly pass for a mere fool, and have gross nonsense fathered upon you without any uneasy reflection of self? The Lord bless you! Beware of your grand enemy, earthly wisdom and unbelieving reasonings You will never overcome but by child-like, loving simplicity.”

In writing to his schoolmaster at Madeley, the Vicar gives a real home-thrust, yet in so kindly a manner that it could hardly be resented:—­

“If I were not a minister I would be a schoolmaster, to have the pleasure of bringing up children in the fear of the Lord. That pleasure is yours, relish it, and it will comfort and strengthen you in your work The joy of the Lord and of charity is our strength Salute the children from me, and tell them I long to show them the way to happiness and Heaven Have you mastered the stiffness and shyness of your temper? Charity gives a meekness, an affability, a child-like simplicity and openness, which nature has denied you Let me find you shining by these virtues, and you will revive me much God bless your labour about the sheep and the lambs!”

An insight into his own persevering way of working may well be gained from the directions he give’s in a letter written from Bristol to Mr. Wase, of Madeley:—­

“My dear brother,—­Go to Mrs. Cound, and tell her I charge her, in the name of God, to give up the world, to set out with all speed for Heaven, and to join the few about her who fear God If she refuses, call again; call weekly, if not daily, and warn her from me till she is ripe for glory... Give my love to George Crannage; tell him to make haste to Christ, and not to doze away his last days.”

To the whole of his parishioners he wrote, on one occasion, an epistle through which we gain a glimpse of the tenderness and beauty of his spirit, chastened still more, as it then was, by affliction:—­

“My dear companions in tribulation,—­All the children of God I love; but of all the children of God, none have so great a right, to my love as you Your stated or occasional attendance on my poor ministry, as well as the bonds of neighbourhood, and the many happy hours I have spent with you before the throne of Grace, endear you peculiarly to me. . . .

“I sometimes feel a desire of being buried where you are buried, and of having my bones lie in a common earthen bed with yours; but I soon resign that wish, and exult in thinking that, whatever distance there may be between our graves, we can now bury our sins, cares, doubts, and fears, in the one grave of our Divine Saviour If I, your poor unworthy shepherd, am smitten, be not scattered, but rather be more closely gathered unto Christ, and keep near each other in faith and love, till you all receive our second Comforter and Advocate, the Holy Ghost, the third Person in our Covenant God. He is with you; but if you plead the promise of the Father, ‘which,’ says Christ, ’ye have heard of Me, He will be in you.’ He will fill your souls with His light, love, und glory, according to that verse which we have so often sung together:—­

“Refining Fire, go through my heart,
Illuminate my soul;
Scatter Thy life through every part,
And sanctify the whole.

“This indwelling of the Comforter perfects the mystery of sanctification in the believer’s soul This is the highest blessing of the Christian covenant on earth Rejoicing in God our Creator, in God our Redeemer, let us look for the full comfort of God our Sanctifier So shall we live and die in the faith, going on from faith to faith, from strength to strength, from comfort to comfort, till Christ is all in all to us all.”