Page:The Works of the Reverend George Whitefield, M.A. (1771 Vol 1).djvu/490

 LETTER CCCCXCVI.

To the Honourable Colonel G.

Honoured Sir,     London, Dec. 21, 1742.

YOUR kind letter put me in mind of righteous Lot, whose soul was grieved day by day at the ungodly conversation of the wicked. It was the same with holy David. His eyes, like yours, honoured Sir, gushed out with water because men kept not 's law. Let this be your comfort, honoured Sir, that ere long "the wicked shall cease from troubling you, and your weary soul shall be at rest" Our Saviour will give you a discharge, when you have fought a few more battles for him. An exceeding and eternal weight of glory is laid up for you, which the righteous judge shall give you at that day. I confess your situation and employment cannot be very agreeable to a disciple of the prince of peace. But persons can better judge for themselves, than strangers can judge for them. However, I cannot say, I would change posts. Indeed, honoured Sir, I think mine is a glorious employ. I am not ashamed of my master, though my master may well be ashamed of me. I know no other reason, why has put me into the ministry, than because I am the chief of sinners, and therefore fittest to preach free grace to a world lying in the wicked one. Blessed be, he gives much success, and for the generality answers your prayers, by giving me a thriving soul in a healthful body. But O my unfruitfulness! I am often ashamed that I can do no more for that who hath redeemed me by his own most precious blood. Honoured Sir, the thoughts quite confound me. O that I could lie lower! then should I rise higher. Could I take deeper root downwards, then should I bear more fruit upwards. I want to be poor in spirit. I want to be meek and lowly in heart. I want to have the whole mind that was in. Blessed be his name for what he has given me already. Blessed be his name, that out of his fulness I receive grace for grace. O that my heart was 's library! I would not have, one thief to lodge in my Redeemer's temple. ", scourge out every thief," is the daily language of my heart. The will hear my prayer, and let my cry come unto him. I have