But where am I running? Pardon me. I am writing to my
dear Mr. I. I rejoice in the expectation of seeing you in town. I hope to be in town at that time, and to enjoy some of our former happy seasons. In the mean while, I salute you from my inmost soul, and desire, as often as opportunity offers, a close correspondence may be kept up between you, and, my dear brother,
Your most affectionate unworthy brother and servant, G. W.
LETTER DXVI. To D. T, in Yorkshire.
London, May 6, 1743.
My dear Brother,
A Day or two ago, I had the pleasure of receiving a letter from you, which I find was written some time since, but came not to hand, as I was out of town. Accept my thanks, though late, and let the blessed Jesus be praised, again and again, for causing his children to love and esteem unworthy, hell-deserving me. O, my dear brother, "Love is of God, and he that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God in him." Glad am I that our Saviour is getting himself the victory in your parts, and that fresh doors are opened for our dear brother I to preach the everlasting gospel. I have been just writing to him; and now improve a few moments to send you a line also. Blessed be our glorious Emmanuel, I can tell you of new and glorious conquests made of late. I am but just returned from a circuit of 400 miles in Gloucestershire and South Wales. Dagon hath every where fallen before the ark, and the fields are white ready unto harvest. The congregations were very large, and I was never enabled to preach with greater power. I purpose staying here about a month, and once more to attack the prince of darkness in Moor-fields, when the holidays come. Many precious souls have been captivated with Christ's love in that wicked place. Jerusalem sinners bring most glory to the Redeemer. Where I shall go next, I cannot yet tell. If my Master should point out the way, a visit to Yorkshire would be very
