LETTER DLXXXV.
To the Honourable F. W, Esq;
New-Town, (Maryland) May 6, 1747.
Honoured Sir,
A Few days past I had the pleasure of yours, dated November 28th. I embrace this first opportunity of returning you my hearty thanks for the unmerited kindness and affection expressed therein. May the Redeemer give me an humble heart, and grant that all favours conferred upon me by instruments, may lead me nearer to him, the source and fountain of all! But what shall I say to dear New-England's sorrowful circumstances? It pities me to hear that she is still lying in the dust. However, this has generally been the case: trying and distressing times have generally followed awakening and converting times. May Jesus second them with another alarm of his holy spirit, and then all will be well. Glad would I be to come and offer myself once more to do New-England service; but I am afraid that many ministers and the heads of the people would not bear it. However, was this my only reason, it would soon be answered.—But here are thousands in these Southern parts (as you have observed, honoured Sir), that scarce ever heard of redeeming grace and love. Is it not my duty as an itinerant, since other places have had their calls and awakening seasons, to go where the gospel has not been named? Those who think I want to make a party, or to disturb churches, do not know me. I am willing to hunt in the woods after sinners; and, according to the present temper of my mind, could be content that the name of George Whitefield should die, if thereby the name of my dear Redeemer could be exalted. Indeed I am amazed that he employs me at all. But what shall we say? He hateth putting away, therefore I am not consumed. Grace, sovereign free grace! shall be all my song. Last Winter's mercies have renewed my obligations to extol free grace. I could enlarge, but several things forbid. In heaven, dear Sir, we shall have no interruptions. That you may be supported through all the fatigues of your journey thither, and with all your dear family, at length arrive at the land of eternal rest, is the earnest prayer of, honoured Sir,
Yours, &c.
G. W.
