his parents that he should be a clergyman. "And as far as nature can furnish a man," says Mr. Gilpin, "for offices of a sacred kind, perhaps there never was a person better qualified to sustain the character of a minister of Jesus Christ, than Mr. Fletcher. His disposition and habits, his sentiments and studies, his reverential awe of God, his insatiable thirst after truth, and his uncommon abhorrence of vice, gave his friends abundant reason to apprehend, that he was marked, at an early age, for the service of the church. Contrary, however, to all expectation, and contrary to the first designs of his family, before he had arrived at the age of twenty, he manifested views of a very opposite nature. His theological studies gave place to the systems of Vauban and Cohorn, and he evidently preferred the camp to the church. All the remonstrances of his friends, on this apparent change in his disposition, were totally ineffectual; and, had it not been for repeated disappointments, he would have wielded another sword than that of the Spirit. Happily, his projects for the field were constantly baffled and blasted by the appointments of that God, who reserved him for a more important scene of action. His choice of the army is, however, to be imputed rather to principle than inclination. On the one hand, he detested the irregularities and vices to which a military life would expose him: on the other, he dreaded the condemnation he might incur, by acquitting himself unfaithfully in the pastoral office. He conceived it abundantly easier to toil for glory in fields of blood, than to labor for God, with unwearied perseverance, in the vineyard of the church. He believed himself qualified rather for military operations, than for spiritual employments, and the exalted ideas he entertained of the holy ministry determined him to seek some other profession, more adapted to the weakness of humanity, and he preferred being an officer in the army to all others."

OF HIS CONVERSION.

NOTWITHSTANDING the early appearance of piety in Mr. Fletcher, it is evident that he continued, for a long course of time, a perfect stranger to the true nature of Christianity. He was naturally of a high and ambitious turn, though his ambition was sufficiently refined for religious as well as scientific pursuits. He aspired after rectitude, and was anxious to possess every moral perfection. He counted much upon the dignity of human nature, and was ambitious to act in a manner becoming his exalted ideas of that dignity. And here he outstripped the multitude in an uncommon degree. He was rigidly just in his dealings, and inflexibly true to his word; he was a strict observer of his several duties in every relation of life; his sentiments were liberal, and his charity profuse; he was prudent in his conduct, and courteous in his deportment; he was a diligent inquirer after truth, and a strenuous advocate for virtue; he was frequent in sacred meditations, and was a regular attendant at public worship. Possessed of so many moral accomplishments, while he was admired by his friends, it is no wonder, that he should cast a look of self-complacency upon his character, and consider himself, with respect to his attainments in virtue, abundantly superior to the common herd of mankind. But while he was taken up in congratulating himself upon his own fancied eminence in piety, he was an absolute stranger to that unfeigned sorrow for sin, which is the first step toward the kingdom of God. It was not till after he had resided some time in England, that he became experimentally ac

quainted with the nature of true repentance. This, according to Mrs. Fletcher's account was in the following

manner.

Meeting with a person who asked him to go and hear the Methodists; he readily consented,* and from that time became more and more conscious that a change of heart was necessary to make him happy. He now began to strive, with the utmost diligence, according to the light he had, hoping by doing much, to render himself acceptable to God. But one day hearing a sermon preached by a clergyman, whose name was Green, he was convinced, he did not understand the nature of saving Faith. This conviction caused many reflections to arise in his mind. Is it possible,' thought he, that I who have always been accounted so religious, who have made Divinity my study, and received the premium of piety, (so called) from the university for my writings on divine subjects, is it possible, that I should yet be so ignorant as not to know what faith is?" But the more he examined himself, and considered the subject, the more he was convinced of the momentous truth. And beginning also to see his sinfulness and guilt, and the entire corruption and depravity of his whole nature, his hope of being able to reconcile himself to God by his own works began to die away. He sought, however, by the most rigorous austerities to conquer this evil nature, and bring into his soul an heavenborn peace. But alas! the more he strove, the more he saw and felt that all his soul was sin. And now he was entirely at a loss what to

Between thirty and forty years Mr. Fletcher had the deepest fellowship with and affection for the Reverend John and Charles Wesley, also with the Reverend George Whitfield (the great Founders of Methodism, or as I would rather say the blessed instruments in the hand of the Almighty of reviving pure Christianity), and with most of the excellent ones of the earth who lived in his day. Mr. George Clarke, of London, who was himself a Saint indeed, observed to me many years ago, "that such a Believer as Mr. Fletcher he had hardly known before."

J. K.

do, being conscious of his danger, and seeing no way to escape, till at last he discovered that nothing, except a revelation of the Lord Jesus to his heart, could make him a true believer.

But a few pages transcribed from a diary, written by his own hand, when he was about twenty-five years of age, will give the reader the best information on this subject.

"The 12th of January, 1755, I received the sacrament, though my heart was as hard as a flint. The following day, I felt the tyranny of sin more than ever, and an uncommon coldness in all religious duties. I felt the burden of my corruptions heavier than ever; there was no rest in my flesh. I called upon the Lord, but with such heaviness as made me fear it was lost labour. The more I prayed for victory over sin, the more I was conquered. Many a time did I take up the Bible to seek comfort, but not being able to read, I shut it again. The thoughts which engrossed my mind, were generally these. I am undone. I have wandered from God more than ever.I have trampled under foot the frequent convictions which God was pleased to work in my heart. Instead of going straight to Christ, I have wasted my time in fighting against sin with the dim light of my reason, and the mere use of the means of grace; as if the means would do me good without the blessing and power of God. I fear my knowledge of Christ is only speculative, and does not reach my heart. I never had faith; and without faith it is impossible to please God. Therefore, all my thoughts, words, and works, however specious before men, are utterly sinful before God. And if I am not washed and renewed before I go hence, I am lost to all eternity. "When I saw that all my endeavours availed nothing towards conquering sin, I almost gave up all hope, and resolved to sin on, and go to hell. But I remember, there was a sort of sweetness even in the midst of these abominable thoughts. If I go to hell, said I, I will serve God

there; and since I cannot be an instance of his Mercy in heaven, I will be a monument of his Justice in hell and if I shew forth his glory one way or the other, I am content. But I soon.recovered my ground. I thought Christ died for ALL, therefore he died for me.He died to pluck such sinners as I am, as brands out of the burning. And as I sincerely desire to be his, he will surely take me to himself: he will surely let me know, before I die, that he hath died for me, and will break asunder these chains wherewith I am bound. If he leave me, for a while, in this dreadful state, it is only to shew me the depth of the misery he will draw me out of. I must then humble myself under his mighty hand, and he will lift me up in his appointed time. But then I thought, this, perhaps, may not be till my dying hour, and must I sin on till then? How can I endure this? But I thought again,my Saviour was above thirty-three years working out my salvation; let me wait for him as long, and then I may have some excuse for my impatience. Does God owe me

any thing? Is he bound to time and place? Do I deserve any thing at his hands but damnation? I would here observe, that anger in particular seemed to be one of the sins I could never overcome. So I went on sinning and repenting, and sinning again; but still calling on God's mercy through Christ.

"I was now beat out of all my strong holds. I felt my helplessness, and lay at the feet of Christ. I cried though coldly, yet I believe sincerely, 'Save me, Lord, as a brand snatched out of the fire; give me justifying faith in thy blood; cleanse me from my sins; for the devil will surely reign over me, until thou shalt take me into thy hand. I shall only be an instrument in his hand to work wickedness, until thou shalt stretch forth thine almighty arm, and save thy lost creature by free unmerited grace.' I seldom went to private prayer, but this thought came into my mind,-This may be the happy hour when thou wilt pre