II.
'Tis mystery all, Messiah dies; Who can explore this strange design? In vain the curious seraph tries To sound the depths of love divine.
But whither am I going? Your Ladyship will excuse me; whilst I am writing, the fire kindles.
Thro' all eternity to God, A grateful song I'll raise; But O eternity's to short, To utter all his praise.
With expectation of another letter, and with hearty prayers for your temporal and spiritual welfare, I subscribe myself, honoured Madam,
Your Ladyship's obedient servant, G. W.
LETTER CCCLXXXI. To Mr. Samuel M, in London.
Dear Mr. M, Bristol, Dec. 28, 1741.
BOTH my wife and I received your letters. I send this, to thank you for them. I came from Abergavenny on Saturday night. My dear wife was pretty well; I expect her here on Friday. We shall bring no more goods to London, than we shall use; but I know not what to say about coming to your house, for brother S tells me, you and your family are dilatory, and that you do not rise sometimes till nine or ten in the morning. This, dear Mr. M, will never do for me; and I am persuaded such a conduct tends much to the dishonour of God, and to the prejudice of your own precious soul. Sometimes I have looked upon you with grief; you have busied yourself about the outward affairs of religion in respect to others, and all the while I fear neglected to look into, and study the improvement of your own heart. I think you go backwards instead of forwards. I fear your present business will not answer, and I am sure you will have no solid comfort, till you look less abroad and more at home. Somebody said, you was like the Athenians, who desired to
