TO Mr. V——.
Weston-Favell, August 30, 1755.
My dear Friend,
I WROTE you a letter just before I left Charles-Town, which I find you have not received. The things sent proved bad, but I have a God to go to, who can and will supply all my wants according to the riches of his grace in Christ Jesus. I am sorry that your people continue yet as sheep having no shepherd. What I said about Mr. B——, was by commission from himself, I wish Mr. D—— may see his way clear. But who will come to be torn in pieces by two contending parties?
Giver of concord, prince of peace,
Meek lamb-like Son of God,
Bid these unchristian jarrings cease,
O quench them with thy blood!
Amidst all this, what a mercy is it, my dear friend, that Jesus shews you more of your heart. O thank him a thousand and a thousand times, for pointing out to you the sin that doth most easily beset you. Surely it is a too great love of money. Of this your friends every where take notice; and this, in many cases, makes you act an unfriendly part. If God should suffer our enemies to prevail, you will wish you had laid up more treasure in heaven. Blessed be God, mine is out of the reach of men or devils. Strange! that five per cent. from man, should be preferred to a hundred-fold from Christ! A word to the wise is sufficient. I should not have said this, lest there should be the appearance of self-interest, had you not given me the hint. But I hope you know, (however, I am sure that God knows) that I want to deny, not enrich myself. But enough of this. I am now looking out for more news from dear America. May the late defeat be sanctified; and then I doubt not but we shall be more than conquerors through the love of Christ. I often wish myself abroad; but assuredly Providence called me home.—My poor feeble labours are still blessed both in town and country, and many dear ministers of Jesus are coming out. It would delight you to be at Tabernacle. We are often in the suburbs of heaven. I write this from dear Mr. H——y’s, in my way to Yorkshire, and perhaps Ireland, I told him what you wrote about Theron and Aspasio, and he begs your prayers. O America, how near dost thou lie upon my heart! God preserve it from popish tyranny and arbitrary power! I can write no more. Adieu, my dear Mr. V——. Continue to write to me, and live and give for Jesus, who hath given you this world, and that which is to come. Was you here, methinks we should weep together. O redeeming love! How can we think of it, and at the same time not be ambitious of opportunities to spend and be spent for Jesus. Non magna loquimur, non magna scribimus, sed vivimus, is the christian’s motto. Mr. D—— can English it. I send to him, and all enquiring friends, my cordial respects. I saw his daughter well at Braintree a little while ago. There, as well as elsewhere, we had blessed seasons. I know you will join in crying Grace! grace! with, my dear Gaius,
Yours most affectionately in our common Lord,