“Do not imagine, however, that I was in a state of evangelical repentance. No: a man who repents desires to be saved; but I desired it not. I was even impatient to go to my own place; and secretly wished that God would for a moment give me the exercise of His iron sceptre to break myself to pieces as a vessel to dishonour. A bitter and cruel zeal against myself, and all the sinners who were with me, filled all my thoughts and all my desires. The devil, who well knew how to improve the opportunity, blew, without ceasing, the sparks of some corruptions, which I thought were extinguished, or at the point of being so, till at last the fire began to appear without. This opened my eyes, and I felt it was time to implore succour. “It is now eight days since I endeavoured to pray, but almost without success. Yesterday, however, as I sang one of your hymns, the Lord lifted up my head, and commanded me to face my enemies. By His grace I am already a conqueror; and I doubt not that I shall soon be more than conqueror. “Although I deserve it not, nevertheless hold up my hands till all these Amalekites be put to flight. “I am, etc., J. FLETCHER.”[47] Footnote 47: Letters, 1791, p. 88. Certainly this was strange, perhaps unparalleled experience. Paul wrote, “I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ _for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh_.” John Fletcher seemed to wish for this, that _God might be glorified_. “A fit of melancholy,” says the reader; “almost insanity.” That, however, is sooner said than proved. Fletcher had a great work to do, and, as in the case of his Divine Master, temptations helped to prepare him for it. Weeks after the date of the foregoing letter, he continued to write bitter things against himself. The following letter has not before been published; it was addressed “to Mrs. Ryan, at the Room in the Horse-Fair, Bristol:”— “TERN, _September 5, 1759_. “MY SISTER,—I have often been with you in spirit, desiring to follow you as you follow Christ; and I trust you have put up some petitions for me, that I may not run in vain, but may at last apprehend that for which I am apprehended. “I have been taught many lessons—by man, self, and Satan—since I saw you, but doubt I am not much nearer wisdom, unless it is in this point—that I am more foolish in my own eyes. I groan to be so often diverted from the pursuit of the one thing needful; but unfaithfulness, levity, unbelief, taint those groans, and make me question their sincerity and mine. Will you try once more to spur me out of my haltings? Send me an account of the struggles you went through before you found rest. What degree of joy, fear, hope, sorrow, doubting, fervency or coldness of desire in soul and body—waking, working, and sleeping?