_To Mr. S――――._
_Cardiff, July 17, 1752._
_My very dear Friend_,
WHEREVER I am, you and yours, you and your kindnesses, are always upon
my heart. I think of them at my down-sitting and mine up-rising, and to
refresh myself, must express my gratitude. Indeed I thank you both ten
thousand times, and as a poor tribute, I send you word that the LORD of
all Lords is pleased to smile upon, and bless my feeble labours. I was
at _Bristol_ four days, and preached nine times. To my great surprize,
thousands (very near as many as attended at _Moorfields_) came out
every evening to hear the word. A blessed influence attended it; and
I have reason to believe much good was done. Old times seemed to be
revived again. Praise the LORD, O my soul! The last evening it rained a
little, but few moved. I was wet, and contracted a cold and hoarseness;
but I trust, that preaching will cure me again. This is my grand
Catholicon. O that I may drop and die in my blessed master’s work!
_For this let men revile my name,_
_I’ll shun no cross, I’ll fear no shame;_
_All hail reproach, and welcome pain;_
_Only thy terrors, LORD, restrain._
I am now entering upon _Wales_. What success my Master gives me, you
may hear some time hence. I beg your prayers, that I may be kept from
robbing GOD of his glory, or of any more of my precious time. What
said my dear Mr. _S――――_ when I saw him last? What!――“You the biggest
robber? No, no,――I am the man.” But thanks be to GOD, as you observed,
“our judge is our advocate.” I thank you for the hint. The LORD give me
to improve it! Farewell! I must soon away, to preach about eight miles
off. We have had a comfortable meeting this morning. My tender love to
dear Mrs. _S――――_ and your little daughter; accept the same in the most
endearing manner from me, who in the strongest terms that words can
express, am, my very dear friend,
Yours most affectionately in our common LORD,
_G. W._