Page:The Works of the Reverend George Whitefield, M.A., late of Pembroke-College, Oxford, and Chaplain to the Rt. Hon. the Countess of Huntingdon (1771 Volume 2).djvu/307

 you may increase with all the increase of, is the earnest prayer of, my very dear Mr. H, Your most affectionate, though unworthy friend, and brother, and servant in our common, G. W.     LETTER DCCXCIV. To Mr. James B.

My dear Friend,     London, Dec. 14, 1749.

IF you was rejoiced in hearing from me, I can assure you, I was delighted, when I received letters from my dear Maryland and Bohemia friends. Upon reading them, I hoped that our was purging you, that you might bring forth more fruit to his glory. I hope you have found it a sanctifying rod, and that it hath only whipped you so much nearer to the ever-blessed Lamb of. Now, my dear Sir, now is the time to shew your gratitude; now is the time to begin steadily to pursue the one thing needful. What avail the many things of this poor transitory world, in a sick and dying hour? Alas! they are nothing, and less than nothing. alone is all in all. He is the pearl of great price, which a wise merchant will gladly sell all to purchase. It is worth all, or worth nothing. O when shall it once be, that the children of this world shall not be wiser in their generations than the children of light! I trust my dear Mr. B will labour to fulfil this wish, and with full purpose of heart cleave unto his once dying, but now risen, ascended, and interceding. When shall I love him more; when shall unworthy I serve him better? My obligations to do so, are increasing every moment. This last fall has been a glorious seed-time indeed. I have been in six or seven Northern counties, and thousands and ten thousands flocked to hear the word. I am now in my Winter quarters. Our is pleased to bow the heavens, and come down amongst his people. His glory fills the Tabernacle, and the shout of a king is heard in our camp. I wish I could hear of the revival of 's work among you. Let us pray, and not faint. You know who has commanded us to let him have no rest till Jerusalem be made a praise through the earth. Methinks I wish the months may fly away,