My very dear Friend,
YOUR kind letter I received this morning. The love I owe you for Christ’s sake, constrains me to send you an immediate answer. From the same motive I just now wrote to Mr. B——. Poor man! This is a home-stroke indeed! I hope he and his yoke-fellow will now take a large step to heaven. May God prepare us, my dear friend, for the finishing trials! We must all have them in our turns. But wherefore should we fear? Out of very faithfulness, our heavenly Father causes us to be troubled. Of his infinite mercy he hath lately been pleased to visit me with a threatening illness. I was just casting anchor;—but it seems I must put out to sea again. O that it may be to direct others to the way that leads to the haven of eternal rest! Who knows but I may sound the gospel once more in Scotland? I have some thoughts of coming for a little while, before I embark for America. You will desire all the societies to pray, that the Lord would order my goings in his way. I rejoice that they hold on their way. May they hold on and hold out to the end! My constant prayer for them is, that they may increase with all the increase of God. Many in town have been awakened this Winter. O that I was humble! When shall that once be? O that I was thankful! Fain would I burn with love and gratitude like a seraph.
With arms of love, and wings of faith,
I’d fly and take the prize.
Well! Let faith and patience hold out a little longer, and all will be well. He is faithful, who hath promised, who also will do it. Believers should look more to Jesus. It is the only way to keep their hands from hanging down, and to strengthen their feeble knees. Exhort all to this: and pray salute every enquiring friend, every member of the societies, in the most endearing manner; for indeed I love my Scotch friends in the bowels of Jesus Christ. Whilst I am writing to and thinking of them, tears, but tears of love, are ready to gush from mine eyes. O that I may meet them all in the kingdom of our Father! O that their lamps may be always trimmed, and their loins girt! Behold Jesus comes quickly, and his reward is with him: let us not leave him. Let us not flag in the latter stages of our road. O our bleeding, agonizing, dying Jesus, how have we pierced thee! At least how have I! O that we may look and love, look and mourn, even as one that mourneth for a first-born or an only son. Dear Mr. B—— can now comment on this text. May the Lord comfort his heart, and be better to him than seven sons! I can no more. Affections of various kinds quite overflow. I long to begin to do something for Jesus. A sense of my vileness and unfruitfulness, quite breaks my heart. Surely I shall sing, free grace in heaven.—I write this to you as a friend. The Lord be with you, and reward you and all, for their sympathy with me and mine. Fail not to pray for me; and believe me to be, my very dear Mr. B——,
Yours in the best of bonds,
G. W.
LETTER DCCCLXXIX.
To Dr. W——.