I Suppose, ere this comes to hand, you will have heard how near I have been to my wished-for harbour, and how I have been obliged to put out to sea again. Blessed be God, since I must live, he does not permit me altogether to live in vain. The word ran and was glorified much in New-England. The gathering of the people, and the power that attended the word seemed to be near the same as when the work begun seven years ago. I parted from my friends with great reluctance. Since my coming southward, I have seen and dined with Governor B——. He [♦]still retains his former affection, and I hope will be a great blessing to these parts. I have lately heard of the death of Doctor Coleman. I pity his poor congregation, fearing it will much dwindle. There are now many destitute flocks in New-England. Mr. B——’s death hath taught me a good lesson. May the Lord Jesus keep me from trimming! something considerable hath been done since I saw you, towards easing me of my Orphan-house embarrassments. The particulars expect in November: then I hope to see you once more. I still intend, God willing, to see Bermudas. Blessed be God, I have good news from Bethesda and Providence. I am helped here, as I was at New-York, in preaching; but find little conviction-work going on. As you observe, “that is God’s work.” I hope you have been carried comfortably through the Summer’s heat, and that we shall have a warm Winter when we meet at Charles-Town. Your father’s child is dead. I have a letter for you from him. I salute you and all for my dear yoke-fellow, who is gone forward to Bohemia. I follow on Monday next. You will remember me in the kindest manner to all. I have written to many friends, but believe the vessels have been taken in which the letters were sent. I have now just time to beg the continuance of your prayers, and subscribe myself, Rev. and very dear Sir,
Yours as usual,
G. W.
[♦] “till” replaced with “still”
LETTER DCXXI.
To Mr. H—— H——.
Philadelphia, Sept. 11, 1747.
My very dear Brother,
I Wrote to you within these few months from this place, Boston and New-York. My last letters were to inform you, that, God willing, some time next year I purpose to see England, if my outward affairs can be settled. Surely the Lord will deliver me from money matters by and by.—He will, he will.—Lord, I believe, help my unbelief! I have good news from Georgia, and from my new plantation in South-Carolina. Many negroes are brought under conviction. We saw great things in New-England. The flocking and power that attended the word, was like unto that seven years ago. Weak as I was, and have been, I was enabled to travel eleven hundred miles and preach daily. I am now once more going to Georgia to settle all my affairs, and shall get ready to embark as soon as I receive letters from you. My dear yoke-fellow is gone forwards. She exceedingly longs to see her old friends. But death may intervene. I have been daily waiting for it. Few have expected my life, but at present I seem to be getting strength. By the grace of God, it shall all be employed in the dear Redeemer’s service. I find no inclination to settle. My Heart (O free grace!) is yet springing for God, and I am determined to die fighting. I hope matters go on well with you. Indeed I remember you daily, and pray that you all may be filled with all the fulness of God. I am here travelling through a wilderness; but I trust leaning on my beloved. Jesus is my rock, my stay, my God, and my all. Various are the scenes I pass through; various are the comforts and supports I meet with. Sometimes the Lord feeds me as it were by the ravens, and teaches me daily that man’s extremity is his opportunity to help and succour. O, my dear brother, if ever we meet in this world, how much have we to say to one another, concerning the loving-kindnesses of the Lord? But when we meet in heaven.—I am lost at the thought—What!