LETTER MCCCCXL.
To Mr. R—— K——n.
On board the Friendship, off New-Romney, September 26, 1769.
My very dear Friend,
MAN appoints, but an all-wise, all-gracious God disappoints. Dear Mr. H——y guessed right. This day sevennight we weighed anchor, and sailed, though very slowly, as far as Fair-Lee. But for near five days we have been tossed by violent gales, and last night, through infinite mercy, cast anchor off Dungenness and New-Romney. The new sailors have been quite sick, but are now almost recovered. I have felt very little, comparatively speaking, and have been able to read, &c. &c. Had I known of having such a handy Steward, I might have spared one hand; but what is, is best. In God’s due time, the winds will have a commission to carry us on. Satan doth not like this voyage. Pray on, pray on, my very dear friends, and never fear. All shall work together for good to those who love God. I wish you had advertised against the publisher of my last sermon. It is not verbatim as I delivered it. In some places, he makes me to speak false concord, and even nonsense. In others, the sense and connection are destroyed, by the injudicious disjointed paragraphs; and the whole is entirely unfit for the public review[¹]. But we must suffer by the false zeal of professing friends, as well as by the inveterate malice of public avowed enemies. If one sentence is blessed to the conviction and edification of any single individual, I care not what becomes of my character, though there is no occasion of bringing ourselves into needless contempt. I write this at a venture; we see a boat approaching, and hope it will reach us. We have put back: O that it may quicken friends to pray us forwards. We are like a man of war that hath been out on a short cruise, and then returned into harbour. What awaits us we know not. It is not fit we should. God bless you all, my dear, very dear friends. I remember your times of meeting at both ends of the town. Sea is sea, land is land. The God whom we serve, is God of both. To his never-failing mercy I commend you. Continue to do the same for, my very dear friend,
Less than the least of all,
G. W.
Off New-Romney, September 28.
STILL we are prisoners. But blessed be God, prisoners of hope! In God’s due time, the word of command will be, Go forward. I am sadly off for want of white biscuit. But God will supply every want. The boat is going, that came off with some eatables. Adieu. Tender love to all. Blessed be God, all is well! Cease not to pray for, my very dear friend,
Less than the least of all,