Wesley, in Georgia, was accepted of God through Christ; but, to cite his own words at the conclusion of his own condemnatory document, he wanted “a sure trust and confidence in God, that, through the merits of Christ, his sins were forgiven.” “I want,” says he, “that faith which none can have without knowing that he hath it.” Wesley, according to his own explanation, had long been in a _saved_ state (though he knew it not); but he was far from being perfect, either in spirit or behaviour. No man could be more sincere or earnest; but it is hoped that few ministers of equal learning, wisdom, and sanctity make greater blunders than were made by him at Savannah. There can be little doubt that he had ecclesiastical authority for most, if not all, his priestly practices; and so have the half papistical priests and ritualists of the present day. But as England now is right in resisting the introduction of rites and ceremonies, fasts and feasts, confessions and penances, absolutions and interdicts, savouring more of the man of sin than of the word of God,—so Savannah then was right in resisting similar innovations attempted to be introduced by the extremely high church priest, fresh from the society of the Oxford Methodists. If we are right in denouncing _ritualism_ now, Savannah was right in denouncing _ritualism_ then. If the thing is offensive and obnoxious here, it was equally offensive and obnoxious there; and if no other end had been answered by Wesley’s mission to America than knocking out of him his high church nonsense, the good effected would have been an ample compensation for two dangerous voyages of six thousand miles, and for all the discomforts of living two-and-twenty months, in a log-built hut, among almost homeless emigrants, who had taken with them to the swamps and woods of Georgia more covetousness than courtesy, more rudeness than rank, more quarrelsomeness than quietude, and more conceit than common sense.