At the conference held at Leeds, 1766, I was desired to take a circuit, to which I consented. I set out in the twenty-third year of my age, and went into the Norwich circuit, where I stayed two years. The Lord was pleased to own my poor labours here in the conviction and conversion of several souls. At the conference in London, 1767, I was taken into full connection. My second circuit was in Oxfordshire, where I stayed two years. In that time the work of the Lord was enlarged abundantly. My next remove was to Canterbury, where I stayed one year. While I was here, my father died; since then I have been much in the north, to be near my mother and sisters. My next remove was into Lincolnshire, where I stayed two years among a poor people, who received the word gladly. We got into some new places; and in other respects God gave me some fruit of my labours. From hence I went to Hull and Scarborough, where I stayed three years. Here we raised several new societies, and in several parts of the circuit the work prospered. I next went to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, where I stayed only one year. Here I had many profitable opportunities, and had also the pleasure of seeing some fruits of my labours. From hence I went to Alnwick and Donbar, where I laboured one year. I had much riding here; but being among a people whom I loved, and with whom I laboured comfortably, I thought little of fatigues. I am now in Sussex and Kent. Since I came into these parts I have lost a sister and mother, who, I believe, are both gone after my father into Abraham's bosom; but I am left behind, almost the only person out of a large family. But how long or how short my stay may be, I leave to unerring wisdom : one only concern ought to possess me, to employ it as I ought; then, at the close of it, I also shall sleep in peace; and after a short absence, be with my dear departed friends! Thrice happy meeting! Nor time, nor death shall ever part us more. I am thankful to God that he ever called me to this blessed work; as by this means I have gained more strength to my own soul; have been of some use to my fellow creatures; have had an opportunity of knowing a little of the world, and of the state of religion among the Methodists and others all which I judge to be more than a reward for what I have done and suffered. At present there is nothing so precious to me as religion and the cause of God: and my principal desire is to fill up my little sphere, that when I am called to give an account, I may do it with joy, and not with sorrow. I am, Rev. sir, your affectionate son in the Gospel, BENJAMIN RHODES. MR. THOMAS TENNANT. TO THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. July 1, 1779. REV. AND DEAR SIR,-I was born in London, in the year 1741. My father came from Norfolk, and my mother from Cambridgeshire. They were very honest and well meaning persons, and constantly attended the service of the Church, but, I fear, knew not the power of religion. Shortly after they came to London, they saw Mr. Whitefield preaching to a great multitude in Moorfields. As they had never seen or heard of him before, they stared with great astonishment. What he said made some impression on them, and they frequently heard him till he left England: but when he went to Georgia they were at a loss what to do, till one told them they might hear the same kind of preaching at the Foundry: my father went and heard you, sir; but the first time he did not understand it: but after awhile he understood you very well; and both he and my mother were truly awakened. Presently after they were admitted into the society, which they counted a very great privilege, and continued therein, serving God and his people as long as they lived. As to myself, I had convictions of sin from my childhood. But, as I grew up, I endeavoured to get rid of them, which was partly effected: but I could not shake off the fear of death. I sometimes tried to comfort myself with the thought that death was only my common lot among the rest of mankind; but if I apprehend it near I was terrified beyond expres› sion. One Sunday afternoon, when I had sauntered up and down St. James' Park, I went into Westminster Abbey, not for devotion, but to pass away time. I had not been there long before I was struck with a horrible dread! My sins were set in array against me! I hastened out of the church, but did not expect to get home alive. I seemed ready to expire, and was to my own apprehension, Condemn'd the second death to feel, Arrested by the pains of hell! I cried to the Lord in an agony of fear, who heard me from his holy place, and came to my deliverance. My dread and horror were in a measure removed; and I resolved never more to spend any part of the Sabbath in merely seeking my own pleasure. When I was about fourteen years of age my father put me out to a person who feared God: while I was with him I had frequent visitations from God, and felt the drawings of his blessed Spirit, though I too often resisted them. However, I became more serious, which was increased by two severe fits of illness. Before this I had been exceedingly fond of going to plays; yet never went without a dread upon my spirits. When I was there I always seemed as one treading on forbidden ground; and particularly one night, when two persons were trampled to death in crowding up the same passage which I had but just before got up. I also took great delight in reading plays; for which purpose I collected a number of the best I could meet with, and often pleased myself and my companions with the repetition of some of the most striking passages in them. But I found nothing of this kind could give me any real happiness, and was constrained to say, This also is vanity! It will not satisfy an immortal spirit, it will not ease a wounded mind! At last, from a full conviction of this, I committed all my plays to the flames, and determined to spend my leisure hours in reading more profitable books. I therefore read your appeal to men of reason and religion with much satisfaction. Yet, on reading the former part of your sermon entitled "The Almost Christian," I was quite distressed, and ready to give up all : hope. I thought this almost Christian leaves me so far behind, that to be quite a Christian seems impossible to me. But when I had turned over the next leaf, and saw what was necessary to make a true Christian, viz., "the love of God," my heart was softened, and my hopes revived. I said, "This is religion; this is Christianity indeed! And this, Lord, is the very thing I want! O give me this love, and I shall be satisfied, and all within me shall bless thy name!" Frequently, when I have heard you preach, I thought you appeared as with a sword drawn in your hand, with which you cleft me asunder. At such times the word was indeed quick and powerful, piercing and wounding my inmost soul; it was indeed a discerner of the thoughts and intents of my heart but it still left me without comfort to bewail my wretched condition. Thus I went on till my burthen grew too heavy to be borne. I mourned all the day long. My distress was very great, and I wanted to speak to some experienced person; but being naturally very close and reserved, I could not break through. I was glad indeed when one asked me to go to a meeting of Christian friends; but when I came to the door, and heard them singing, I had such an idea both of their goodness and of my own unworthiness, that I durst not presume to go in therefore I walked back again with a heavy heart. Some time after this I joined the society; but for a long while durst not venture to go to the Lord's table. One Sunday I was determined to go; but when I approached, my heart failed me, and I went back without receiving; but, through the distress of my mind, my legs were scarce able to support me; and, being filled with fear, guilt, and shame, I trembled exceedingly: however, at last, as a poor, weary, heavy laden sinner, who had nothing to plead but, "God be merciful to me for Christ's sake," I ventured to eat of that bread, and drink of that cup. Just before I came up to the table, these words were deeply impressed upon my mind,— Cover'd with thy blood we are, This inspired me with such courage that I kneeled down with a strong hope that I should not be a victim to God's justice, but a monument of his mercy: and when Dr. J. gave me the bread and wine, I was enabled to believe that Christ died for me, and was filled with peace in the Holy Ghost. I rose from the table with a glad heart, greatly rejoicing in God my Saviour. After this I walked in the loving fear of the Lord, and in the comforts of the Holy Ghost. I found great sweetness in the word; yea, and in all the other means of grace. Indeed some of the most delightful moments of my whole life were spent in waiting upon God in his ordinances. I enjoyed great tranquillity of spirit, being delivered from my guilty, tormenting fears of death and hell. When I laid my body down to rest, I could repose my soul as on the bosom of Jesus, and say,— What if death my sleep invade! Shall I be of death afraid? While encircled by thine arm, Death may strike, but cannot harm. Meantime I found an earnest desire to live to the glory of God, together with much love to precious souls. And hence I found a desire of preaching; on mentioning which, I was desired to go with a friend, who occasionally exhorted a few people at a house in St. George's Fields. At his request I ventured to speak a few words to them, and found freedom of spirit. About this time I had a great desire to travel with you, sir. When you was informed of it, you was so kind as to consent to it. So I had the pleasure of accompanying you from March, 1770, to the August following, when I was admitted on trial as a travelling preacher, and appointed for the Newcastle circuit. I believe very few, if any, of our preachers set out with so little courage: the depression of spirit I laboured under was nearly insupportable; and if it had not been for the affection and tenderness of my good friend, Mr. Jaco, who was at that time the assistant, I must have sunk under the burden. The loving, sensible people I laboured among, were also very kind to me, and bore |
