THE searcher of hearts alone knows the sympathy I have felt for you and yours, and what suspence my mind hath been in concerning the event of your present circumstances. I pray and enquire, enquire and pray again, always expecting to hear the worst. Ere this can reach you, I expect the lot will be cast either for life or death. I long to hear, that I may partake like a friend either of your joy and sorrow. Blessed be God for that promise, whereby we are assured, that “all things shall work together for good to those that love him.” This may make us at least resigned, when called to part with our Isaacs. But who knows the pain of parting, when the wife and the friend are conjoined? To have the desire of one’s eyes cut off with a stroke, what but grace, omnipotent grace, can enable us to bear it? But who knows, perhaps the threatened stroke may be recalled. Surely the Lord of all lords is preparing you for further usefulness by these complex trials. We must be purged, if we would bring forth more fruit. Your brother I hear is better; to-day I intended to have seen him, but Mr. B—— sent me word he thought he would be out for the air. I hope Mr. H—— is better; but I can scarce mention any body now but dear Mrs. W——. Pray let me know how it goes with you. My wife truly joins in sympathy and love. Night and day indeed you are remembered by, my dear friend,
Yours, &c.
G. W.
LETTER MIX.
To Mr. S——.
London, December 13, 1753.
My dear Friend,
THE mail not coming in till to-day, I began to fear lest something had happened to prevent your writing. But, blessed be God, my fears are dispelled, my friend is well, his temporals, his spirituals prosper: herein I rejoice, yea and will rejoice. But what news do you tell me? Hath an infinitely condescending God vouchsafed to breathe on my poor worthless scribble? Hath life and power attended inanimate ink and paper? This then, my God, shall be the language of my heart!
Forgive my faults, and work thy will