YOUR letters always fill me with sympathy. Your last I have just been reading; and in reading breathed out this ejaculation, “Lord, when will the days of his mourning be ended.” Surely you are not always thus to stick fast in the mire and clay. Certainly the time will come, when the dear Redeemer will put your feet upon a rock, and a song into your mouth, and order your going for the promoting his glory and his people’s good. Satan hath indeed desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat; but Christ, a sympathizing, compassionate high-priest, prays for you, and your faith shall not fail. Look up then, my dear Mr. H——; you shall find grace to help in time of need.
Leave to his sovereign sway
To choose and to command;
So shalt thou wond’ring own his way,
How wise, how strong his hand.
Far, far above thy thoughts,
His counsel shall appear,
When fully he the work hath wrought,
That caus’d thy needless fear.
This is the advice I give you. I know you will pray that I may take it myself. For I find, that sufficient for every day is the evil thereof. But the Lord causes me to renew my strength, and blessed be his name, enables me to go on my way rejoicing. In London we have had a blessed Winter. In the country we have seen a Spring time. Hither I came last night, and have preached twice since my coming. Thus I live a moving life. O that I may be a pilgrim indeed, and desire no continuing city till I come to the New Jerusalem, which is above, and the mother of us all. There, all that are born of God, whether Mysticks, Calvinists, &c. shall join in one common song, even the song of Moses and of the Lamb. Your hymn, for which I thank you, is a preparative for this. I sent it to good Lady H——n, who has been ill, but is now, I hope, recovered. Pray write to me often. Sorrows grow less, and joys greater, by being communicated. Load me as much as you will with all your grievances, and I will lay them before Him, who came to bear our sicknesses, and heal our infirmities. Pray what is become of Mr. S——? Will he preach, now he is sure of something in hand? But alas! the disease is in the heart. When the love of God reigns there, then and not till then will the love and fear of the world flee away. Blessed freedom, wherewith Jesus Christ makes his servants free! Remember me when at his footstool, and write long and often to, reverend and dear Sir,