_To Mr. V――――._
_London, December 15, 1753._
_My very dear Mr. V――――_,
JUST now I received, and have read over your kind letter, dated
_August_ 22d, and in reading it, could have wished for the wings of a
dove, that I might have fled and embraced you in these unworthy arms,
and wished you joy of being assured of his love, who so loved us as
to give himself for us. May this find you in the same happy frame, and
may you for ever hereafter be blessed with the uninterrupted witness
of GOD’s Spirit, witnessing with your spirit, that you are indeed his
child! As you have undergone a long and tedious law work, I hope your
joys are of the right kind, and will be more substantial and lasting,
than those who leap into a fancied liberty at once, and having no root
in themselves, in time of temptation fall away. Your house, my dear
friend, I believe, is not built upon the sand, but upon JESUS, even
JESUS of _Nazareth_, the rock of ages; against which the gates of hell
shall never be able to prevail. Whoever hath been the instrument of
bringing you into this happy frame, it is no matter to me; I rejoice,
yea and will rejoice. If I know any thing of my heart, I am just the
same disinterested person as when I saw you, and believe me, you are
my dear, very dear _Gaius_, my son, my friend still. Mr. _S――――_ can
tell you, why you received no letters. They are ready, and were sent
to his lodgings:――but to my great surprize I was told, a coach came
for him and the other passengers. Ever since I have been preaching and
travelling as usual, generally twice, and frequently thrice a day. I
came only last _Saturday_ into Winter quarters, and shall long for the
Spring again, that I may enter upon a fresh campaign. O that my dear
LORD may never discard me from this divine employ! An itinerant pilgrim
life is that which I choose.――And why? It was the life of my blessed
LORD. I hope you will not fail of calling out dear Mr. _Z――――y_ to it
every year.――I am sure _America_, dear _America_ stands much in need of
it. Let envious, lukewarm elder brethren say what they please against
it, this is the way that GOD hath honoured, yea and I believe will
honour even unto the end. But I find, love of honour, power, ease,
and fulness of bread, make even good people to think, and speak, and
act unlike themselves. These, these are the things which have led the
_Moravian_ brethren on this side the water, from the cross of CHRIST,
and made them to differ as much from what once they were, as light from
darkness. O how have my dear spiritual children, (for whom I travailed
in birth, and whom I love as my own soul) been insensibly led away, and
robbed of their spiritual and temporal substance, at least for a while,
by some self-designing and deceitful men. Against these, and not the
dear people, who have been eaten up as bread, with a bleeding heart,
have I drawn my pen; and I believe shall rejoice that I have done so to
my dying day. GOD grant that the like scene may never be opened on your
side the water! But I forbear.――O for heaven! O for that time when we
shall get out of this church militant! I long to be
Where sin and strife and sorrow cease,
And all is joy and calm and peace.
Dear Mr. _J―――― W――――_ is going thither apace: he is supposed to be in
a galloping consumption. LORD JESUS, give me patience to wait till my
wished-for change also shall come! I long to awake after thy likeness;
I long to be dissolved to be with thee! Then, then shall I meet you,
my dear friend, and rejoice, together with all the blessed train that
shall follow the Lamb! O my dear Sir, bear with me, bear with me, I
pray you, for indeed I am sick of love. Surely of all the redeemed, I,
even ill and hell-deserving I, shall sing loudest in heaven. Behold I
am vile! black, but yet comely: not in myself, but in the comeliness
which my dear JESUS hath put upon me. I can now no more. I must retire
to pray for you and yours. The LORD bless you, and keep you, and give
you a heart continually to remember before his throne, my dear Mr.
_V――――_,
Your most affectionate friend, brother,
and servant in CHRIST,
_G. W._