_To Mr. D――――._
_On board the Deborah, July 20, 1754._
_My very dear Mr. D――――_,
THIS leaves me on my way towards _New-York_. Accept this as a token,
that change of climate doth not cause a change of affection. No, you
and my other dear _Edinburgh_ friends are still upon my heart, and I
trust will remain fixed there, till we meet to join the singing choir
that is about the throne. I hope you have an earnest and anticipation
of this, every _Monday_ evening. I hope you enjoy a feeling possession
of your GOD, every day and every hour. This will make the most barren
wilderness to smile, and support you under the most distressing
circumstances. It is this that supports me by land and by water.
Without it, what could such a poor, weak, faint-hearted pilgrim do?
Verily I should faint.――But as yet I cannot die. In spite of thunder,
lightning, rain, and heat, GOD is pleased to hold my soul in life, and
to let me see his glorious work prosper in my unworthy hands. _Georgia_
and _Bethesda_ I found in a thriving way. My family consists of a
hundred and six, and will prove I trust of more extensive use every day.
About six weeks I staid at _Carolina_ and _Georgia_. One is likely to
be settled as minister in _Charles-Town_. There my poor labours have
met with usual acceptance, and I live in hopes of some gracious gales
to the northward. Perhaps about _Christmas_, or early in the spring,
I may see my native country again.――O may I return grown in grace, and
in the knowledge of my LORD and Saviour JESUS CHRIST! But I am a dwarf.
Pray, pray for me. Accept unfeigned thanks for all favours, remember me
in the kindest manner to all inquiring friends, and believe me to be,
my very dear Sir,
Yours, &c. in our glorious Head,
_G. W._