WHATEVER the Spirit of God makes useful to my heart, either from scripture or from spiritual authors, I thankfully receive, and give him the glory: but I well know there is but one great touch-stone, by which all doctrines are to be tried; and therefore I hope your kind fears for me, lest I should not enough esteem the written word of God, are needless. I am so far from setting any human writer on a footing with this, that I scarcely _read_ them at all, _i. e._ in comparison of my bible. I _look_ over some few, but this is very different from the manner of reading you recommend, and which I strive by the grace of God to practise; nay, it would be the greatest slavery to me you can conceive, if I were obliged to read many religious books: however I return you the sincerest thanks for your care, and beg you will _in all_ things watch over me with a “godly jealousy.”――But my dear friend, could you imagine that I enquired after the _state_ of your _mind_ according to the _common acceptation_ of the word? I only desired to know what spiritual blessings you had both from without and within, that I might share them with you. And this I was emboldened to do by the sweet account you had given in your former letter, of the blessings you enjoyed at _Bristol_. The Lord refresh your soul continually with the rich streams of his redeeming love, and may his everlasting arms be beneath you! I know your present state, of hanging as it were in suspence between the visible and invisible world, is a dispensation big with divine love. And was I to pray for you that prayer which my soul most loves, it would _be_, “that you _should_ lie in the hand of God as an instrument, without choice, till the will of God was perfected in you.” This would be the prayer of pure love and enlightened faith; but if I descended to the tenderness of friendship, I should ask your speedy recovery. If it should be given me to see you again in this world of vanity and woe, I shall be thankful, and perhaps it may be so: but I know not――_something_ seems to whisper me that the thread both of your life and mine is nearly spun. For my part, I have within these few days had a sweet call to eternity, by a sudden and violent disorder in my stomach and bowels (called according to the fashionable phrase a _nervous_ cholick) which seems to have set me a good way forwards on my journey. Happy pain! Kind messenger! O my friend, I have nothing but mercies to tell you of. So supported! Such wonderous grace! Such boundless love! _I_ all sin and misery: the _Saviour_ all tenderness and mercy: the _probable_ approach of death delightful: no sting remaining. No clog upon my chariot-wheels. Mercies too from without which I had never before experienced in a time of sickness. The Rev. Mr. **** praying and singing by my bed, with such power of faith and love, such unction from above! Does this hurry the spirits? Does this endanger? How far from it? I protest not only my soul rejoiced, but even my body grew better as he prayed. Do not fail to thank God on my behalf, and pray for me that I may not be ungrateful to such amazing mercy. May the Lord Jesus preserve you, sweeten every pain, and make you rejoice continually with joy unspeakable and full of glory.
_Your ever-affectionate and obliged friend_,
****
_June 7, 1756_.
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_June 15, 1756._
_Dear Sir_,