_To Mr. S――――._
_Bristol, November 30, 1755._
_My very dear Sir_,
TO be three weeks without sending you a line, seems a long while to me.
What if we should meet ere long in an endless and happy eternity? For
near ten days past I have preached in pain, occasioned by a sore throat,
which I find now is the beginning of an inflammatory quinsey. Silence
and warmth, the doctor tells me, under GOD, may cure me, but heaven
(if I had my will) is my choice, especially if I can speak no longer
on earth for my GOD. However, painful and expensive as, in a spiritual
sense, the medicine of silence is, I have promised to be very obedient,
and therefore I have not preached this morning. If I grow better,
(as the world terms it) I hope to see you in about a fortnight, if
otherwise, GOD willing, you shall hear from me again. Blessed be JESUS,
I am ready; I know that my Redeemer liveth. O that all who were lately
swallowed up in _Portugal_, had known it! Then an earthquake would
only be a rumbling chariot to carry the soul to GOD. Poor _Lisbon!_
how soon are all thy riches and superstitious pageantry swallowed up!
What a shock must the news give to a full exchange! Who would but lay
up treasure in heaven? Thanks be to GOD, for teaching you, my very
dear Sir, this heavenly art! May you and yours improve in it every day
and hour. This is my comfort, all my goods are gone before me. O the
pleasure of having nothing, and yet possessing all things in JESUS!
This be my happy lot! I beg a continued interest in your prayers, and
trust that living and dying you will always be remembered by, my very
dear friend,
Your most affectionate friend and ready servant
for CHRIST’s sake,
_G. W._