_To Mrs. B――――._
_London, December 30, 1756._
_Dear Madam_,
GRATITUDE constrains me to send you a few lines. They inform you, that GOD is doing wonders at the new chapel. Hundreds went away last _Sunday_ morning that could not come in. On _Christmas-Day_, and last _Tuesday_ night (the first time of burning candles) the power of the LORD was present, both to wound and to heal. A neighbouring Doctor hath baptized the place, calling it “_Whitefields’s Soul-trap_.”――Just now the following letter came to hand.
_Reverend Sir_,
A THOUGHT came into my mind last _Sunday_ morning, to go to hear you at the new tabernacle, and to see what sort of a place it was. In one part of your discourse my heart trembled, and the terrors of the LORD came upon me. I then concluded, that I must prepare for hell, and that there was no hope of salvation for me. I take this method, being assured that you will excuse the liberty I take to ask you one question, How I can be convinced that my past sins are to be forgiven? And O, what must I do to be saved! My sins are innumerable. GOD is just. I cannot think that I have any interest in the Redeemer’s blood. My soul is full of grief. I must conclude. Dear Sir, favour me with a line, which will be greatly acknowledged by,
Your friend,