At Tern Hall, Fletcher again enjoyed his beloved retirement, and gave himself up to study, meditation, and prayer. Indeed, his whole life was now a life of prayer. “Wherever we met,” says Mr. Vaughan, “if we were alone, his first salute was, ‘Do I meet you praying?’ And, if we were conversing on any point of Divinity, he would often break off abruptly, and ask, ‘Where are our hearts now’”[45] Solitude, however, is often invaded by Satan. It was in the garden, where were only two human beings, that the devil gained his first victory on earth; and it was in “the _wilderness_” that man’s Redeemer was pre-eminently tempted by the same accursed enemy. The following, addressed to Charles Wesley, is a strange, but honest and instructive production. Footnote 45: Benson’s “Life of Fletcher.” “TERN, _July 19, 1759_. “MY DEAR SIR,—Instead of apologizing for my silence, I will tell you that I have twenty times endeavoured to break it, but without effect. I will simply state the cause of it. “This is the fourth summer that I have been brought hither, in a peculiar manner, to be tempted of the devil in a wilderness; and I have improved so little by my past exercises, that I have not defended myself better than in the first year. Being arrived here, I began to spend my time as I had determined; one part in prayer, and the other in meditation on the Holy Scriptures. The Lord blessed my devotions, and I advanced from conquering to conquer, leading every thought captive to the obedience of Jesus Christ, when it pleased God to show me some of the folds of my heart. As I looked for nothing less than such a discovery, I was extremely surprised; so much so as to forget Christ. You may judge what was the consequence. A spiritual languor seized on all the powers of my soul, and I suffered myself to be carried away quietly by a current, with the rapidity of which I was unacquainted. “Neither doubt nor despair troubled me for a moment; my temptation took another course. It appeared to me that God would be much more glorified by my damnation than by my salvation. It seemed altogether incompatible with the holiness, the justice, and the veracity of the Supreme Being to admit so stubborn an offender into His presence. I could do nothing but be astonished at the patience of God; and I would willingly have sung those verses of Desbaraux if I had had strength:— ‘Tonne, frappe, il est temps, rend moi guerre pour guerre, J’adore, en perrissant, la raison qui t’aigrit.’[46] Footnote 46: “Thunder! strike! it is time; render me war for war! In perishing, I adore the reason which incenses Thee.”