_To Mr. S―――― S――――._
_London, September 26, 1768._
_My very dear Friend_,
BLESSED be GOD for the art of writing! blessed be GOD for skill to read
and understand what is written! Thus we understand each other, though
at a thousand miles distance; thus I understand, and by understanding
learn to sympathize with my dear fellow-sufferer Mr. _S――――_. This is
my comfort, that underneath him are the almighty Redeemer’s everlasting
arms. Therefore, being the beloved of the LORD, he must dwell in safety.
Though prevented by the weather from using or drinking the _Ramsgate_
waters, nothing can prevent his using or drinking the waters of life
freely. No, no: in every true believer’s heart the Holy Ghost is a
well of water springing up to life eternal. Hence it is, that though
he killeth, he maketh alive; though he wounds, yet he heals. These
words I was enabled to feel and enlarge upon yesterday morning from my
_Tottenham-Court_ throne. For some days the flux of blood hath stopped
entirely. Praise the LORD, O my soul! LORD JESUS, if it be thy blessed
will, let me hear of the recovery of my dear friend! Most cordial
respects attend dear Mrs. _S――――_. GOD bless, support, and comfort her
under her present circumstances. Mr. _Middleton_ is now made perfectly
whole. He was buried from the Tabernacle last _Wednesday_ evening,
and a subscription is opened for his four orphans. In the midst of his
torturing pains, being asked by his daughter how he was, he answered,
“A heaven upon earth.” Soon afterwards he fell asleep in JESUS. In Him
I am, my very dear dear Sir,
Yours, yours, &c. &c. in our never-failing JESUS,
_G. W._