EVERY letter you write, knits my heart more and more to you in the bowels of Jesus Christ. Your last I received on Saturday. God had been preparing me for it, by a week’s intimation upon my heart, and by an inexpressible agony in my soul just before it came to hand. Blessed be God that our friends preach up poverty of spirit, for that is the only foundation whereon to build solid abiding comfort. The stony ground received the word with joy; but how did those hearers stand in a day of temptation? They fell away; for it is very possible that the heart may have much joy floating on the top of it, and yet be as hard as the nether millstone. Hence it is that so many, who boast of rest in their flashes of joy, are self-willed, impatient of reproof, despisers of others in a mourning state, and wise in their own conceits: whereas the believer, that hath been with his Lord in the wilderness, and has a truly broken and contrite heart, though his joy may not be so extravagant, yet it is substantial. Such a soul hangs upon God; thinks before he speaks; and is continually hearkening for what the Lord will say to him, by the small still voice of his spirit. This is the state I want all our friends to arrive at. I cannot see how they can, with assurance, talk of their enjoying solid fellowship with the Father, and his dear Son Christ Jesus. I shall not be surprized if many, who seemingly began in the spirit, do end in the flesh, and turn persecutors of the doctrines and disciples of Jesus Christ. How can they possibly stand, who never felt themselves condemned criminals? who were never truly burthened with a sense not only of their actual, but original sin, especially that damning sin of unbelief? who were never brought to see and heartily confess, that after they had done all, God might, notwithstanding, deny them mercy; and that it is owing merely to his sovereign love in Christ Jesus our Lord, that they can have any hopes of being delivered from the wrath to come? It is for preaching in this manner that I like Mess. T——s. They wound deep before they heal; they know that there is no promise made but to him that believeth; and therefore they are careful not to comfort over much those that are convicted. I fear I have been too incautious in this respect, and have often given comfort too soon. The Lord pardon me for what is past, and teach me more rightly to divide the word of truth for the future. Dearest J——, pardon this freedom; I am constrained to write in this manner. I thank you most heartily for your historical letter. Fail not writing to me often. Dearest J——, help me by your prayers: for Christ’s sake help me. Our Lord is yet with us. I hear different accounts of things; but I pray for all, and suspend my judgment till you see
Your affectionate brother and servant,
G. W.
LETTER CCI.
To Mrs. E—— C——.
Savannah, June 25, 1740.
My dear Sister,
YOUR letter afforded me much inward pleasure. Surely it bespeaks the writer not to be far from the kingdom of God. You was then waiting for our Lord’s salvation: ere now, I trust, Christ hath manifested his glory, filled you with his blessed spirit, and thereby sealed you to the day of redemption. ’Tis good to be long in an humbled state: it is the best preparation for solid, lasting comfort. Blessed are they that mourn most, for they shall be the most comforted: not that we are violently to keep ourselves in such a state; but when God’s hand lies heavy upon us, we are patiently to tarry the Lord’s leisure, till he reveals himself to our souls. I was a mourner a long while; but, glory be to God! I have for some years been almost continually comforted; at least kept from doubting of my interest in Jesus Christ. I can with an humble boldness cry out, “My Lord and my God!” He daily manifests himself to my soul, and causes me to feel my dependance on his free grace and sovereign love. This is the kingdom of God within us. O, my dear sister, what would I give, were all the world partakers of this unspeakable gift! I long, I burn with an ardent zeal after the salvation of my dear brethren, who are dead in trespasses and sins. Poor souls! Why am I taken, and they left? O the sovereign, free, unmerited, distinguishing love of my and your Jesus! My dear sister, let us love him, let us obey him; let us suffer for him with a chearful heart! His love will sweeten every cup, though never so bitter. Let us pledge him willingly, and continue faithful even unto death. A scene of sufferings lies before us. Who knows but we may wade to our Saviour through a sea of blood? I expect (O pray that I may be strengthened if called to it) to die for his great name’s sake. ’Twill be sweet to wear a martyr’s crown. Dear Madam, adieu. I remember God’s goodness to us at Broad-Oaks. I pray for you and yours. I trust your daughters keep close to Jesus. Salute them kindly in my name. Read my Journal, and give hearty thanks for
Your unworthy brother and servant in Christ Jesus,