But they love the place, though I can get nobody else to reside on it.  If I do not flatter myself, he is indeed a valuable person, of uncommon brightness, learning, piety and indefatigable industry; always loyal to the King, zealous for the Church, and friendly to our Dissenting Brethren; and for the truth of this character I will be answerable to God and man.  If therefore your lordship will grant me the favour to let me resign the living unto him, and please to confer it on him, I shall always remain your lordship’s most bounden, most grateful, and most obedient servant,

Samuel Wesley, Sen.

The Lord Chancellor complied:  and so, in February, with an income of but fifty pounds a year, increased to seventy by Mr. Wesley’s kindness, but in good heart and hope and such love as can only be between two simple hearts that have proved each other, John Whitelamb and Molly took possession of the small parsonage.

They were happy:  and of their happiness there is no more to be said, save that it was brief.  In the last days of October Molly’s child was born, and died:  and a few hours later while the poor man held her close, refusing to believe, with a sigh Molly’s spirit slipped between his arms and went to God.

To God?  It tore the man up by the roots, and the root-soil of his faith crumbled and fell with the moulds upon her coffin.  He went from her graveside back to the house and closed the door.  Mrs. Wesley had urged him to return with the family to Epworth, and John, who had ridden from Oxford to preach the funeral sermon, shook him by the hand and added his persuasions.  But the broken husband thanked him shortly, and strode away.  He had sat through the sermon without listening to a word:  and now he went back to a house lonely even of God.

He and Molly had been too poor to keep a servant:  but on the eve of her illness a labourer’s wife had been hired to do the housework and cook the meals.  And seeing his lethargy, this sensible woman, without asking questions, continued to arrive at seven in the morning and depart at seven in the evening.  He ate the food she set before him.  On Sunday he heard the bell ringing from his church hard by.  But he had prepared no sermon:  and after the bell had ceased he sat in his study before an open book, oblivious.

Yet prayer was read, and a sermon preached, in Wroote Church that day.  John Wesley had walked over from Epworth; and when the bell ceased ringing, and the minutes passed, and still no rector appeared, had stepped quietly to the reading-desk.

After service he walked across to the parsonage, knocked gently at the study door and entered.

“Brother Whitelamb,” he said, “you have need of us, I think, and I know that my father has need of you.  To-morrow I return to Oxford, and I leave a letter with him that he will wish to answer.  Death has shaken him by the hand and it cannot guide a pen:  he will be glad to employ his old amanuensis.  What is more, his answer to my letter will contain much worth your pondering, as well as mine, for it will be concerned with even such a spiritual charge as you have this day been neglecting.”