_To W―――― P――――, Esq._
_London, November 1, 1766._
_Happy Heirs of the Grace of Life_,
BY your giving young Mr. _R―――― H――――_ hints about a proper direction, I have inferred, that a line, though from one who is less than the least of all, would not be altogether unacceptable. I am sure my poor prayers are continually ascending to the throne of grace in your behalf. I want to have you great, yea very great in the kingdom of heaven. Have you not found, by your heart’s being warmed with the conversation of gospel ministers, that your heaven is begun on earth? Dear Mr. _F――――er_ is become a scandalous _Tottenham-Court_ preacher. I trust he will come down into your parts, baptized with the Holy Ghost as with fire. Dear Mr. _R――――n_ hath been much owned in good Lady _H――――n_’s chapel. Ill and hell-deserving I, am to go thither next week. Dear Mr. _M――――n_ is detained at _Aldwinckle_, by his children having the small-pox in town. The shout of a king is yet heard in the _Methodist_ camp. The glorious cry, “What shall I do to be saved,” is frequently sounding in our ears. Had we more reproach, and were we more scandalous, more good would be done. Several promise well. Some say _shibboleth_ with a good grace, and very proper accent; others, as yet, can only say _sibboleth_: but I have heard of one who can teach the tongue of the stammerer to speak plain. Good Lady _H――――n_ is an excellent school mistress in this way. The writer of the letter on the other side, seems to be an apt scholar. The person referred to, keeps house where dear Mr. _S――――t_ constantly expounds. He is in a consumption. What a mercy that such a confessor should be sent to prison! I want all the followers of the Lamb in general, and a certain gospel happy pair in particular, to grow higher and richer every day towards GOD. Time is short; eternity is endless; the Judge and judgment are at the door.
We soon shall hear th’ archangel’s voice; The trump of GOD shall sound, Rejoice! Amen! Hallelujah!
But I must have done. A dear company of ministerial cast-outs are coming to breakfast under my despised roof. It stinks too much for worldlings. If you would be so good as to let dear Mr. _Hill_ see the _Oxonian_ letter, it may be of service. Next _Tuesday_, GOD willing, I shall read an account of his servant’s death. May the last end of every christian master be like his! But I cannot die: cold bathing, and cool weather, brace up my tottering tabernacle. I hope that both to whom I am writing, enjoy thriving souls in healthy bodies. That they may increase with all the increase of GOD, earnestly prays,
Their, &c. &c. &c. in a once crucified, but now exalted JESUS,