_London, May 1, 1753._
_My dear David_,
DO you enquire where I am? I answer, in _London_, longing to come to
_Leeds_, and yet withheld hitherto by His providence who ordereth all
things well. Let us have a little more patience, and then in a few
weeks I hope to have a blessed range in the _North_. GOD’s time I
have always found to be the best time in the end. Ere now, I suppose,
Mr. _L――――_ hath received my letter from _Norwich_. The word ran and
was glorified there. Preaching so frequently, and riding hard, almost
killed me; but what is my body in comparison of precious and immortal
souls? O that this Spring may prove a Spring-time every day! Indeed
I want to begin to begin to do something for JESUS. At present I am
engaged in a very ungrateful work; I mean, in writing against the
leading _Moravian_ brethren. When you see it, you will know whether
there was not a cause: a second edition of the pamphlet is just come
out. I fear the third part of the Journals cannot be procured: perhaps
it is not much matter. I am sick of all I do, and stand astonished that
the Redeemer still continues to make use of and bless me. Surely I am
more foolish than any man; no one receives so much, and does so little.
If you was here, we would weep together: friends know what it is to
exchange hearts. May the common friend of sinners keep both our hearts
near himself, and then all will be well. I cannot think of _Leeds_
without weeping. I love that people, and pray that they may increase
with all the increase of GOD. “Brethren, pray for us,” is still the
earnest request of my poor heart. I am weaker than the weakest, less
than the least of all. Write to me; I do not like your sending such
round-about ways: friends letters always pay postage. O let us send
often by post to heaven; I mean, on the wings of faith and love: from
thence we shall assuredly receive good answers, though not always in
our own way or time. For the present, farewel. My hearty love to all
the true followers of the Lamb. I hope to write to all in time. In
great haste, but much greater love, I subscribe myself,
Yours, &c.
_G. W._