_To Lady H――――n._
_Bristol, June 17, 1758._
_Ever-honoured Madam_,
THIS leaves me returned from _Wales_. It proved a most delightful
trying circuit. I suppose your Ladyship hath heard how low I have
been in body, scarce ever lower; not able to sit up in company all the
time, yet strengthened to travel without bodily food, and to preach
to thousands everyday. Never were the fields whiter, and more ready
to harvest. The LORD JESUS seemed to ride in triumph through the great
congregation in _Haverford-west_. Perhaps the auditory consisted of
near fifteen thousand. Tears flowed like water from the stony rock. The
cup of GOD’s people quite runs over. Many were sick of love. Welcome
then bodily pain, and bodily sickness! O for a hearse to carry my weary
carcase to the wished-for grave! “There the wicked cease from troubling,
there the weary are at rest.” But perhaps I must see _London_ first.
With regret I turn my back on this blessed itinerating weather, but
Mr. _Dav――――_ must be released. O for some disinterested soul to help
at the chapel during the summer season! Spiritual, divine ambition,
whither art thou fled! But I see such honours are reserved for few. I
rejoice in the increase of your Ladyship’s spiritual routs. I can guess
at the consolations such uncommon scenes must afford to your Ladyship’s
new-born soul. No wonder you are distressed from other quarters. Indeed,
my most noble and ever-honoured patroness, thus it must be. CHRIST’s
witnesses must be purged at home. Inward domestic trials, fit for
outward public work. Nature recoils, when constrained to take the cup;
and it may be from a near and dear relation’s hand: but infinite Wisdom
knows what is best. O that I could be more passive! O that I could let
the good and all-wise Physician chuse my medicines, and the hands that
shall convey them to me! but I am a stubborn reasoning creature, and
thereby force almighty love frequently to drench me. O, I am sick! I
am sick! sick in body, but infinitely more so in my mind,――to see what
dross yet remains in, and surrounds my soul. Blessed be GOD, there is
one, who will sit as a refiner’s fire, and purify the sons of _Levi_. O
for an heart to bear its scorching, soul purging heat! When I am tried,
I shall come forth as gold. I write this to your Ladyship out of the
burning bush. Blessed place! CHRIST is there! CHRIST is there! To his
never-failing mercy do I most humbly commend your Ladyship, and with
ten thousand thousand thanks for honouring such an unfruitful unworthy
worm with your unmerited patronage, I beg leave to subscribe myself,
ever-honoured Madam,
Your Ladyship’s most dutiful, and ready servant,
for CHRIST’s sake,
_G. W._