My dear Brother,
I Have kept your letter by me till now, that I might answer it on my voyage. It speaks the language of a perplexed heart, and plainly shews me, that satan loves to keep us in bondage. My dear Brother, I think you have done wrong in holding your peace. I am sure you once felt that freedom of soul, which you are a stranger to now. The way of duty is the way of safety. Whatever you may say to the contrary, unless you will give the lie to your own experiences, you must confess, that you have indeed tasted of the good word of life. You should, therefore, have went forwards, and not have turned back again, and thereby plunged yourself into darkness; darkness that may be felt. Alas, you have too eagerly embraced principles (I fear) contrary to the gospel of Christ. You are aiming at a false voluntary humility, and are returning back to the flesh pots of Egypt. I know my words will have but little force with some, but I must deliver my soul. God was once pleased to work upon you by my ministry, and therefore I am more solicitous for your welfare. I know the advice you would give me is, “be still.” I hope I am, so far as really to know the Lord; but yet I will strive, yet will I walk in all the ordinances of God, and go on from strength to strength till I come to appear before him in his heavenly Zion. I write this, out of the fulness of my heart. Indeed I love you, and the brethren; I am willing to be the servant of you all. I am less than the least. However, I dare not embrace tenets that are not agreeable to the form of sound words. Let me see you as soon as may be after my arrival, and in the mean while accept of hearty love, from
Your affectionate brother and servant in Christ,
G. W.
LETTER CCLXVII.
To Mrs. A. D.
On board the Minerva, Feb. 20, 1741.
My dear Sister,
MY conscience almost reproaches me, that I have not wrote to you often, nor full enough; accept this as an acknowledgement of my fault. I am sorry for it. We are now about a thousand miles off England. I hope this will provoke you to send me a letter immediately after my arrival. I find Luther’s observation to be true: “Times of reformation are times of confusion;” as yet the churches in America are quiet, but I expect a sifting time ere long. My family in Georgia was once sadly shaken, but now, blessed be God, it is settled, and, I hope, established in the doctrines of grace. Your name is precious among them. I wish you would send them a long letter. Your book on walking with God has been blessed to one Mr. B——, and others in South-Carolina. It hath also been serviceable to a dear friend now with me, as also to myself. I cannot well tell you what great things are doing abroad. I have a scene of sufferings lying before me; I expect shortly to cry out with the spouse, “Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me, my mother’s children were angry with me.” My Lord’s command, now, I believe, is, “Take the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines; for our vines have tender grapes.”—Help me by your prayers. It is an ease thus to unbosom one’s self to a friend, and an instance of my confidence in you. O, my dear Sister, I am less than the least of all saints, I am the chief of sinners, and yet Jesus loves me, and sheds his love abroad in my heart abundantly by the Holy Ghost. I have been much assisted in composing some gospel sermons, which I intend for the press. I have sought the Lord by prayer and fasting, and he assures me, that he will be with me. Whom then should I fear? Hitherto we have had an extraordinary passage, praise the Lord. Herewith I send you a letter from one of the children which God has given me: He will rejoice to receive a line from you. If possible, I hope, tho’ you are in the decline of life, to see you face to face before I leave England. I should be glad to hear how you are as to worldly circumstances; if I can help you in any degree, freely command