_To Lady H――――n._
_Bristol, June 17, 1758._
_Ever-honoured Madam_,
THIS leaves me returned from _Wales_. It proved a most delightful trying circuit. I suppose your Ladyship hath heard how low I have been in body, scarce ever lower; not able to sit up in company all the time, yet strengthened to travel without bodily food, and to preach to thousands everyday. Never were the fields whiter, and more ready to harvest. The LORD JESUS seemed to ride in triumph through the great congregation in _Haverford-west_. Perhaps the auditory consisted of near fifteen thousand. Tears flowed like water from the stony rock. The cup of GOD’s people quite runs over. Many were sick of love. Welcome then bodily pain, and bodily sickness! O for a hearse to carry my weary carcase to the wished-for grave! “There the wicked cease from troubling, there the weary are at rest.” But perhaps I must see _London_ first. With regret I turn my back on this blessed itinerating weather, but Mr. _Dav――――_ must be released. O for some disinterested soul to help at the chapel during the summer season! Spiritual, divine ambition, whither art thou fled! But I see such honours are reserved for few. I rejoice in the increase of your Ladyship’s spiritual routs. I can guess at the consolations such uncommon scenes must afford to your Ladyship’s new-born soul. No wonder you are distressed from other quarters. Indeed, my most noble and ever-honoured patroness, thus it must be. CHRIST’s witnesses must be purged at home. Inward domestic trials, fit for outward public work. Nature recoils, when constrained to take the cup; and it may be from a near and dear relation’s hand: but infinite Wisdom knows what is best. O that I could be more passive! O that I could let the good and all-wise Physician chuse my medicines, and the hands that shall convey them to me! but I am a stubborn reasoning creature, and thereby force almighty love frequently to drench me. O, I am sick! I am sick! sick in body, but infinitely more so in my mind,――to see what dross yet remains in, and surrounds my soul. Blessed be GOD, there is one, who will sit as a refiner’s fire, and purify the sons of _Levi_. O for an heart to bear its scorching, soul purging heat! When I am tried, I shall come forth as gold. I write this to your Ladyship out of the burning bush. Blessed place! CHRIST is there! CHRIST is there! To his never-failing mercy do I most humbly commend your Ladyship, and with ten thousand thousand thanks for honouring such an unfruitful unworthy worm with your unmerited patronage, I beg leave to subscribe myself, ever-honoured Madam,
Your Ladyship’s most dutiful, and ready servant, for CHRIST’s sake,