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/414

 is worth all, or he is worth nothing. I thank you for your invitation in his great name. If providence should bring me into the North, I hope to wait upon you. At present, I am bound for Wales. I have good news from abroad, and I believe the work is upon the advance at home. That you may be abundantly blessed, is the earnest prayer of, dear Sir, Your affectionate though unworthy brother in, G. W.     LETTER DCCCXC. To Mr. H.

Exeter, April 11, 1751.

My very dear Mr. H,

I Was pleased last night to find by my wife's letters, that your sister was delivered, and more so, because my wife wrote as though you was again under my roof. This I count a great honour, and such a privilege, that I wish to have the favour conferred on me as long as I live. These my hands (could they work, and was there occasion for it,) should readily minister to your necessities. If my wife should come down to Bristol, pray let not my dear Mr. H move. If Molly stays in London, she will take care of you; if not, Polly and Mr. Dn will gladly wait upon you. As I have been under some trying exercises for this month past, I have often wished to see you. But my blessed master hath given me access to himself, and he will make me more then conqueror through his love. I find Luther's words truly applicable to myself, "He was never employed about any fresh work, but he was either visited with a fit of sickness or some violent temptations." Some good I trust is to be done this Spring to many souls. This Western circuit I believe hath been blessed already. I have preached about forty times since I left London, and have been enabled several times to ride forty miles in a day. I find that this sensibly refreshes me. I wish you could say so too;—your Biddeford friends would then see you.—They hold on their way, and long to have a line from you. Old Mr. W is dead. I providentially met Mr. T at his son's house. At Plymouth we had sweet seasons, and on Tuesday last I met with a young clergy