_To Mr. S―――― S――――._
_London, September 26, 1768._
_My very dear Friend_,
BLESSED be GOD for the art of writing! blessed be GOD for skill to read and understand what is written! Thus we understand each other, though at a thousand miles distance; thus I understand, and by understanding learn to sympathize with my dear fellow-sufferer Mr. _S――――_. This is my comfort, that underneath him are the almighty Redeemer’s everlasting arms. Therefore, being the beloved of the LORD, he must dwell in safety. Though prevented by the weather from using or drinking the _Ramsgate_ waters, nothing can prevent his using or drinking the waters of life freely. No, no: in every true believer’s heart the Holy Ghost is a well of water springing up to life eternal. Hence it is, that though he killeth, he maketh alive; though he wounds, yet he heals. These words I was enabled to feel and enlarge upon yesterday morning from my _Tottenham-Court_ throne. For some days the flux of blood hath stopped entirely. Praise the LORD, O my soul! LORD JESUS, if it be thy blessed will, let me hear of the recovery of my dear friend! Most cordial respects attend dear Mrs. _S――――_. GOD bless, support, and comfort her under her present circumstances. Mr. _Middleton_ is now made perfectly whole. He was buried from the Tabernacle last _Wednesday_ evening, and a subscription is opened for his four orphans. In the midst of his torturing pains, being asked by his daughter how he was, he answered, “A heaven upon earth.” Soon afterwards he fell asleep in JESUS. In Him I am, my very dear dear Sir,
Yours, yours, &c. &c. in our never-failing JESUS,