Page:The Works of the Reverend George Whitefield, M.A. (1771 Vol 1).djvu/71



Dear Sir,       London, August 3, 1739.

I cannot leave London without answering your last letter. I am convinced that calls me now to Georgia, and so are our friends. 's ways are like the great deep.—He will go a way by himself. Exitus acta probat. The prophecy you mention, I dare not apply to myself. What am I, that should so delight to honour me? However, I believe the will work a great work upon the earth. Whatever instruments he shall make use of in effecting it, I care not. If be preached, if my dear be glorified, I rejoice; yea, and will rejoice. I wish all the 's servants were prophets. Oh, dear Sir, my heart is now melted down with a sense of the divine love! Never was a greater instance of 's free grace in. What am I, O, that thou shouldest delight to honour me? Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight! Dear Sir, I could now write all day; but other business demands my attendance.—Yet a little while, and we shall sit down in the kingdom of for ever. Dear Sir adieu. Oh give thanks, give thanks, and pray for

Your's most affectionately in , G. W.

LETTER LX.

Blendon, August 6, 1739.

AND would not dear Mr. stay for my last letter? What, is he retired into the country to learn how to forget his ? Is he got into favour with the polite world? Are not these sad symptoms, that my dearest Mr. is falling away a-pace? He runned into one extreme lately, and now satan is driving him into another. Did not I forwarn you of this? O my dear friend, my brother, return to your first love, otherwise you will find the spirit of deserting you more and more every day. Nemo repente fuit turpissimus. But I can say no more.—Perhaps I am troublesome. However, give me leave to weep. Permit me to pray for you. Though you are now dead comparatively, yet, I trust, you will be