Bristol, December 3, 1753.
WHEN I saw the seal of your last sweet letter, I guessed at the contents of it. Blessed be God, I was not disappointed. The heart was soaring aloft, mounting on the wings of faith and love, and had fled out of sight of this poor and troublesome world. Thus may that God, who is rich in mercy, pay and reward all that love ill and hell-deserving me! The devil himself dares [♦]not accuse us, for serving and loving God or man, for these wages. They are wages of God’s appointing, God’s promising, God’s paying. May my dear friend always find such payment! I believe he will.
O Lord, enlarge our scanty thoughts,
To see the wonders thou hast wrought;
Unloose our stammering tongues to tell,
Thy love immense, unspeakable.
I rejoice in the promising prospect of the happiness of your brother’s houshold. May it widen and spread over all! If I have any time, I hope to send him a few lines. Lord, hasten the time when my poor kinsmen and brethren after the flesh shall be joined to thee by one spirit! Till then, help me, O Lord, to be continually crying out, “Why me, Lord, why me?” Well may distinguishing grace, and the thoughts of everlasting love, swallow up your whole soul. Strange! that God’s children should not know their own bread. But these corrupt hearts of ours still verge towards the law. Grace, omnipotent grace alone, can enable us to see our compleatness in Christ, and yet excite us, from principles of gratitude and love, to faithfulness and zeal, as though we were to be saved entirely by them. Glorious mystery! Like the blessed angels, may you and yours, my dear friend, be continually employed in looking into it! This is what I have been preaching on last week in Somersetshire. The fire there warmed and enflamed me, though I preached in the air on Tuesday evening at seven o’clock, as well as on Wednesday and Thursday. I purposed to go as far as Plymouth, but providence hath brought me back, and I am now hastening to London, to pay my last respects to my dying friend. It may be, that shortly Mr. J—— W—— will be no more; the physicians think his disease is a galloping consumption. I pity the church, I pity myself, but not him. We must stay behind in this cold climate, whilst he takes his flight to a radiant throne, prepared for him from the foundations of the world. Lord, if it be thy blessed will, let not thy chariot wheels be long in coming. Even so come Lord Jesus, come quickly! Poor Mr. C—— will now have double work. But we can do all things through Christ strengthening us. The residue of the Spirit is in the Redeemer’s hands, and he hath promised not to leave his people comfortless. Our eyes, O Lord, are unto thee from whom cometh all our salvation. Here I could enlarge, but I must send a few lines to London, which I hope to reach myself some time this week. Be pleased to direct your next there. My Leeds friends have my cordial acknowledgements for their kind enquiries concerning me. I hope this will find them all, with your dear yoke-fellow, leaning on the Mediator’s bosom. There am I now reclining my weary head. Adieu. The Lord Jesus be with your spirit.
Yours, &c.
G. W.
[♦] “nor” replaced with “not”