Though persecution and opposition followed John Wesley from the day he lifted up a standard of holiness within the classic walls of Oxford to the hour that God's chariot bore him to the city of the Great King, he never faltered in his purpose nor abated his zeal for an hour. As his end drew near, the opposition which had been so relentless began to give way. In many places it became greatly modified, and in others nearly extinct. That a great change had come began to be manifest in public opinion and feeling. Mob violence, which once swept everything, had entirely subsided, and towns and cities which once welcomed him with brickbats and rotten eggs now hailed him as the greatest of modern evangelists. Many who bade him depart out of their coasts as a crazy fanatic now thought it an honor to welcome him as a man of many virtues and unparalleled labors. In 1789, visiting Falmouth, Mr. Wesley says: "The last time I was here, above forty years ago, I was taken prisoner by an immense mob, gaping and roaring like lions. But how is the tide turned! High and low now lined the street, from one end of the town to the other, out of stark love, gaping and staring as if the king were going by."

Wesley outlived all his early colaborers. He saw them fall one by one, until he stood alone of them all, waiting and watching, but pressing toward the mark for the prize.

The first to fall was the zealous, deeply consecrated, and profoundly intellectual Walsh, at the age of twenty-eight, one of the best biblical scholars of his day. His last words were, "He's come! He's come!" and a cloud received him from human sight. Of him Wesley said: "Such a master of Bible knowledge I never saw before and never expect to see again. If he was questioned concerning any Hebrew word in the Old, or any Greek word in the New, Testament, he could tell, after a little pause, not only how often the one or the other occurred in the Bible, but also what it meant in every place."

Next to follow him was the earnest, fearless, honest Grimshaw, exclaiming: "I am happy as I can be in this world, and as sure of heaven as though I were there. I have my foot on the threshold already."

Next fell Whitefield, in America, one of the most eloquent and effective preachers that ever lifted up his voice among men, by which Wesley was greatly moved.

Then followed the amiable, venerable Perronet, of Shoreham, whom Charles Wesley was wont to call "the Archbishop of Methodism."

Then fell the most saintly man of his time—a real translation—the seraphic Fletcher, shouting, "God is love! O, for a gust of praise to go to the ends of the earth!" Mr. Wesley says of him: "For many years I despaired of finding an inhabitant of Great Britain that could stand in any degree of comparison with Gregory Lopez or Mons. de Renty. But let any impartial person judge if Mr. Fletcher was at all inferior to them. Did he not experience deep communion with God, and as high a measure of inward holiness as was experienced by either one or the other of those burning and shining lights? And it is certain his outward light shone before men with full as bright a luster as theirs. I was intimately acquainted with him for thirty years. I conversed with him morning, noon, and night, without the least reserve, during a journey of many hundred miles, and in all that time I never heard him speak an improper word or saw him do an improper action. To conclude, within fourscore years I have known many excellent men, holy in heart and life, but one equal to him I have not known; one so uniformly and deeply devoted to God, so unblamable a man in every respect I have not found either in Europe or America. Nor do I expect to find another such on this side eternity."

Next came the sad tidings of the death of his brother Charles, but little, if at all, inferior to Whitefield as a preacher, and whose sacred lyrics will live so long as human hearts are melted and charmed by the power of song. Just before the silver cord was loosed he requested his wife to write—it was his last:

At the very moment that Charles was bidding adieu to earth John was at Shropshire, and the congregation was engaged in singing:

Thus friend after friend departed, but Wesley pressed forward with a zeal which knew no abatement until eighty and seven years had passed over him.

On his last birthday he writes: "This day I enter into my eighty-eighth year. For above eighty-six years I found none of the infirmities of old age; my eye did not wax dim, neither was my natural strength abated. But last August I found almost a sudden change—my eyes were so dim that no glasses would help me; my strength likewise quite forsook me and probably will not return in this world. But I feel no pain from head to foot, only it seems nature is exhausted, and, humanly speaking, will sink more and more till

He attended and presided at his last Conference, held at Bristol, July 20, 1790. Anxious to devote every hour and moment to the service of the Master, he visits Cornwall, London, and the Isle of Wight, and then returns to Bristol. He is again in London, and then he is seen standing under the shade of a large tree at Winchelsea, preaching his last outdoor sermon. Though unable to preach longer in the open air, he still continues to preach "the glorious Gospel of the blessed God." At Colchester rich and poor, clergy and laity, throng to hear him in wondering crowds. At Norwich,[177]
[178] where once mob violence swept everything, he is received as an angel of mercy. At Yarmouth the house is thronged. At Lynn all the clergymen in the town, save one who was lame, came out to hear him.

Again he is in London preaching in all his chapels, and even making preparations to visit Ireland and Scotland, but these last visits his failing strength will not allow. Well does Tyerman call him "the flying evangelist."

The shadows are lengthening, and he seems conscious that his end is near. He preaches his last sermon at Leatherhead, Wednesday, February 3, 1791, from Isa. lv, 6: "Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near." He concluded the sermon by singing one of Charles Wesley's hymns:

On that day fell from his lips a Gospel trumpet which had sounded the word of life more frequently and effectually than was ever known to have been done by an uninspired man.