My dear Friend,
MY new horse failed the first night; but, through mercy, we got here yesterday about seven in the evening. I was regaled with the company of some simple-hearted, first-rate old Methodists, of near thirty years standing. God willing, I am to preach to-morrow morning, and to have a general sacrament on Friday evening. Perhaps I may move after Sunday towards Wales; but must be obliged, I fear, to take post-horses. I care not, so that I can ride post to heaven. Hearty love to all that are posting thither, hoping myself to arrive first. This tabernacle often groans under the weight of my feeble labours. O when shall I be uncloathed! When, O my God, shall I be cloathed upon! But I am a coward, and want to be housed before the storm. It is nearer and nearer. Happy they who have fled to Christ for refuge! I could enlarge, but have only time to send you my most unfeigned thanks and most cordial love, as being, my very dear Sir,
Yours, &c. in our glorious Head,
G. W.
LETTER MCCCLIV.
To Mrs. M——h.
Gloucester, May 20, 1767.
Dear Mrs. M——h,
AND is the right hand at last cut off? How long, how painful the operation! How aukward, how uneasy [♦]to be without it! But hush, nature: it is the Lord’s doing. His own right arm shall bring salvation; his presence shall alleviate the pain. Perhaps the loss of the hand, even of such a right hand, may, through the powerful influences of the blessed Spirit, give strength to their feet, and quicken them in their motion heavenward. The right hand of the Lord can, and I trust will bring this mighty thing to pass. Only say, “Abba, Father, be it unto me even as thou wilt;” the answer will be, “This is my will, even thy sanctification.” But,