124. Letter Dcxxi.
LETTER DCXXI.
T o Mr. H―― H――.
Philadelphia, Sept. 11, 1747.
My very dear Brother, I Wrote to you within these few months from this place, Boston and NewYork. My last letters were to inform you, that, God willing, some time next year I purpose to see England, if my outward affairs can be settled. Surely the Lord will deliver me from money matters by and by.—He will, he will.
—Lord, I believe, help my unbelief! I have good news from Georgia, and from my new plantation in South-Carolina. Many negroes are brought under conviction. We saw great things in New-England. The flocking and power that attended the word, was like unto that seven years ago. Weak as I was, and have been, I was enabled to travel eleven hundred miles and preach daily. I am now once more going to Georgia to settle all my affairs, and shall get ready to embark as soon as I receive letters from you. My dear yoke-fellow is gone forwards. She exceedingly longs to see her old friends.
But death may intervene. I have been daily waiting for it. Few have
expected my life, but at present I seem to be getting strength. By the grace of God, it shall all be employed in the dear Redeemer's service. I find no inclination to settle. My Heart (O free grace!) is yet springing for God, and I am determined to die fighting. I hope matters go on well with you. Indeed
I remember you daily, and pray that you all may be filled with all the fulness of God. I am here travelling through a wilderness; but I trust leaning on my beloved. Jesus is my rock, my stay, my God, and my all. Various are the scenes I pass through; various are the comforts and supports I meet with. Sometimes the Lord feeds me as it were by the ravens, and teaches me daily that man's extremity is his opportunity to help and succour. O, my dear brother, if ever we meet in this world, how much have we to say to one another, concerning the loving-kindnesses of the Lord? But when we meet in heaven.—I am lost at the thought—What!
Make slaves the partners of thy throne, Decked with a never-fading crown?
O Jesus! thy love is indeed immense, unsearchable.—Shed it abroad in the dear man's heart to whom I am writing, and the hearts of all with whom he is concerned, and the hearts of all thy dear children. Even so, Lord Jesus.
Amen! I can no more. My heart is almost too full to subscribe myself Ever yours, G. W.