It was remarked by Archbishop Trench that the greatest hymn of the
Middle Ages owes much of its modern recognition to the use that Goethe
made of it in Faust. It was this circumstance which 'helped to
bring it to the knowledge of some who would not otherwise have
known it; or if they had, would not have believed its worth, but that the
sage and seer of this world had thus stood sponsor to it, and set his seal
of recognition upon it.'1
It would appear that the literary world is waiting for some such warranty
before it realizes that in the early hymns of Methodism we possess a unique
literature of devotion. The rare quality, literary and spiritual, of the
hymns of the Wesleys has passed almost unrecognized for more than a
hundred and fifty years, except among Methodists.
2
There is a perverse tradition among men of letters that Methodism has no
literature. Leslie Stephen contrasted the literary result of the Oxford
Movement and of the Evangelical Revival, and deplored, in the latter,
'the absence of any literature possessing more than a purely historical
interest.'2
This is one of the most amazing judgements to which a critic ever committed
himself. It is surely beyond question, for those who know both books, that
John Wesley's Journal is in its way as absolutely literature as
Newman's Apologia, and what a gulf there is between the pale,
ecclesiastical verse of Keble and the lyrical raptures of Charles Wesley!
The mere fact is that the hymns of Methodism constitute the finest body of
devotional verse in the language, and that the very best of them belong to
the exalted region of the
The extraordinary fecundity of Charles Wesley as a writer of religious
verse has certainly obscured our sense of the literary value of what he wrote.
No poet can maintain the highest level throughout a dozen volumes. In the
thousands of hymns he wrote there are inevitably many that are mere
versification of evangelical commonplace. But the general quality
3
The writings of the early Methodists mark an epoch in English
literature. The early eighteenth century was a period when almost
every writer was chilled into conventionality by a false classicism.
Addison represented the perfection of English prose. And, as De Quincey
once declared, in a very discerning paragraph, 'Addison, in particular,
shrank from every bold and every profound expression as from an offence
against good taste. He dared not for his life have used the word
"passion" except in the vulgar sense of an angry paroxysm. He
durst as soon have danced a hornpipe on the top of the Monument as have
talked of "rapturous emotion." What would he have said?
Why, "sentiments that were of a nature to prove
4
And as in the prose, so in the poetry of the age. Appearing at the
very time when English poetry was most stilted and sterile, the hymns
of Methodism became the prelude of a lyrical revival. Wordsworth remarked
that, with one or two negligible exceptions, 'the poetry of the period
intervening between the publication of Paradise Lost and The
Seasons does not contain a single new image of external nature, and
scarcely presents a familiar one from which it can be inferred that the
eye of the poet had been steadily fixed upon his object, much less that
his feelings had urged him
5
I cannot see Thy face, and live, Then let me see Thy face, and die! Now, Lord, my gasping spirit receive; Give me on eagle's wings to fly, With eagle's eyes on Thee to gaze, And plunge into the glorious blaze! The fullness of my great reward A blest eternity shall be, But hast Thou not on earth prepared Some better thing than this for me? What, but one drop! one transient sight! I want a sup, a sea of light.
of the style is remarkably high, and scattered through this mass of work
there are many scores of hymns, at the least, that are of the very highest
order. The best work of Charles Wesley abides for the universal Church in
the Collection of Hymns for the Use of the People called Methodists
of 1780--an anthology, selected mainly from the vast mass of his
brother's work by John Wesley--of which so unprejudiced a critic
as Dr. Martineau declared that it was 'after the Scriptures, the grandest
instrument of popular religious culture that Christendom has ever
produced.'3
Early Methodism and Literature
agreeable after an unusual rate."' 4
The writings of the early Methodists marked the first return to simplicity
and sincerity in prose. It was Edward FitzGerald who was the first to point
this out, with characteristic insight and independence of judgement.
'Another book I have had is Wesley's Journal,' he wrote
to Professor Cowell. 'If you don't know it, do know it; it
is curious to think of this Diary of his running almost coevally with
Walpole's Letter-Diary, the two men born and dying too within a few
years of one another, and with such different lives to record. And it is
remarkable to read pure, unaffected, and undying English, while Addison
and Johnson are tainted with a style which all the world imitated!'
The Methodist Hymns a Lyrical Prelude
to work upon it in the spirit of genuine imagination.'
5
It would be equally true to say that for a similar period, beginning
and ending a little later, say, from the death of Henry Vaughan to
the youth of Robert Burns, the lyrical note was never heard in these
lands. Poetry had ceased to be 'simple, sensuous, and passionate.' Fire
and fervor, the sense of wonder, the arresting note of reality, had all
gone. Lyrical sincerity and spontaneity reappear first of all in the
hymns of Methodism. We hear again the authentic note of passion, and
it betokens much for English poetry in the days to come. A single example
will serve where scores might be adduced. Think of the verve, the
imaginative boldness, the ecstatic fervor of stanzas like these in an
age when English verse was dominated by the influence of Pope--the
lines were published in 1749:
1 Sacred Latin Poetry, p. 273.
2 History of English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, vol. ii. xii., p. 101.
3 In a letter to Miss Winkworth.
4 Works xi., p. 21 (1890).
5 Essay, Supplementary to the Preface of the Poems.