139. Letter Mcii.
LETTER MCII.
T o Lady H――n.
Newcastle, September 24, 1755.
Ever-honoured Madam, I KNOW not how long it is since I left your Ladyship; but this I know, a sense of the satisfaction I felt when at Donnington, still lies upon my heart.
Surely, was I not called out to public work, waiting upon and administring to your Ladyship in holy offices would be my choice and highest privilege.
But Jesus calls, and therefore I travel to do or suffer thy will, O God! The only new ground that hath been broken up, I think is Liverpool; there the prospect is promising. I preached in a great square on the Lord's day, and the alarm I hear went through the town. At Bolton the cup of God's people ran over; and at Manchester we had large auditories and blessed seasons. At Leeds we felt what is unutterable, and at Bradford, I believe, last Sunday the congregation consisted of at least ten thousand. But O how hath my pleasure been alloyed at Leeds! I rejoiced there with trembling; for unknown to me, they had almost finished a large house in order to form a
separate congregation. If this scheme succeeds, an awful separation I fear will take place amongst the societies. I have written to Mr. W――, and have done all I could to prevent it. O this self-love, this self-will! It is the devil of devils. Lord Jesus, may thy blessed spirit purge it out of all our hearts! But O how must the divine Paraclete sit as a refiner's fire upon the heart, in order to bring this about! Few choose such fiery purgations, and therefore so few make the progress that might justly be expected of them in the divine life. Make me, O God, willing to be made, willing to be, to do, or suffer what thou pleasest, and then――what then?—this foolish fluttering heart will sweetly be moulded into the divine image.—This I write from Newcastle, where the people twice a day hear the gospel gladly. At York I hope a fine gentleman was touched, and several I find were awakened there, and here also, at my last visit. What to do now, I know not. Calls on all sides are very loud, and it is too late to go either to Ireland or Scotland. O my God!—Winter is at hand, and in the summer how little hath been done for thee! I cannot bear to live at this poor dying rate. My good and everhonoured Lady, add; for Christ's sake add to my already innumerable obligations, by praying for a poor unfruitful and ungrateful dwarf. I am sick of my vileness, and yet just comes in a letter acquainting me, that my preaching hath been blessed to many this morning. Good God, what is this?
Grace! Grace! I am lost, I am lost.
Take me Uriel, take me hence, And bear my soul to God.
Your Ladyship sees I am running into my old fault. I cannot well help it, when writing to your Ladyship. May the choicest of God's mercies rest on you and yours! I hope my poor but sincere respects will find acceptance with Lady S――'s, Master H――, &c. I must away to pray for your
Ladyship and them, and therefore hasten to subscribe myself, everhonoured Madam,
Your Ladyship's most ready servant, G. W.