“Haverfordwest, May 27, 1753.
“My dear Man,—Though my wife has not forwarded the letter, she says you have sent me a threatening one. I thank you for it, though unseen, and say unto thee, if thou art thus minded, ‘What thou doest, do quickly.’ Blessed be God, I am ready to receive the most traitorous blow, and to confess, before God and man, all my weaknesses and failings, whether in public or private life. I laid my account of such treatment, before I published my ‘Expostulatory Letter.’ Your writing in such a manner convinces me more and more, that Moravianism leads men to break through the most sacred ties of nature, friendship, and disinterested love.
“My wife says, you write, that, ‘I am drunk with power and approbation.’ Wast thou with me so long, my dear man, and hast thou not known me better? What power didst thou know me ever to grasp at? or, what power am I now invested with? None, that I know of, except that of being a poor pilgrim. As for approbation, God knows, I have had little else besides the cross to glory in, since my first setting out. May that be my glory still!
“My wife says, you write, that ‘I promised not to print.’ I remember no such thing. I know you advised me not to do so, but I know of no promise made. If I rightly remember, I had not then read Rimius; but, after that, I both heard and saw so many things, that I could not, with a safe conscience, be silent.
“My wife says, you write, ‘the bulk of my letter is not truth.’ So says Mr. Peter Bohler; nay, he says, ‘it is all a lie;’ and, I hear, he declares so in the pulpit; so that, whether I will or not, he obliges me to clear myself in print. If he goes on in this manner, he will not only constrain me to print a third edition, but also to publish a dreadful heap that remains behind. My answers to him, the Count, and my old friend Hutton, are almost ready. I cannot send them this post, but may have time before long.
“O, my dear man, let me tell thee, that the God of truth and love hates lies. That cause can never be good, that needs equivocations and falsehoods to support it. You shall have none from me. I have naked truth. I write out of pure love. The Lord Jesus only knows what unspeakable grief I feel, when I think how many of my friends have so involved themselves. If anything stops my pen, it will be concern for them, not myself. I value neither name nor life itself, when the cause of God calls me to venture both. Thanks be to His great name, I can truly say, that, for many years past, no sin has had dominion over me; neither have I slept with the guilt of any known, unrepented sin lying upon my heart.
“I wish thee well in body and soul, and subscribe myself, my dear John, your very affectionate, though injured, friend for Christ’s sake,
“George Whitefield.”
To another friend, Whitefield wrote as follows:—
“London, June 8, 1753.