265. Letter Mccxxviii.
LETTER MCCXXVIII.
T o the Reverend Mr. T――.
Edinburgh, July 12, 1759.
My very dear Friend, IT is well there is a heaven to make amends for all our disappointments here on earth. I long for a future state, where we shall all sit down together, and converse for ever without the least interruption. I know this will find you looking towards, and waiting for the coming of that day of God. It is a blessed thing to be kept alive in a dead time. It is a dead time in Scotland indeed. Little or no stirring among the dry bones. It is not so in London, and several other parts of England. Lord Jesus, revive thy work in the midst of the years! You will pray that the fatal languor may not take hold of my already too languid heart. I would fain be found of my Lord with my loins girded, and my lamp burning. A storm seems to be at hand. Jesus is our hiding-place.
Blest is faith that trusts his power, Blest are saints that wait his hour:
Haste, great Conqueror, bring it near; Let the glorious close appear.
O that some may be awakened to prepare for that awful hour! On Monday, God willing, I go to blow the gospel trumpet at Glasgow. Lord, what am I, that I should be one of thy run-abouts! If this be to be vile, Lord, make me more vile! Adieu. Hearty love and most cordial respects await your whole self. Follow me with your prayers, and as the Lord Jesus enables, they shall be returned by, my very dear friend,
Yours most affectionately in our common Lord, G. W.