LETTERS. (continued 2)

Yours, &c.

G. W.

LETTER MX.

To Mr. V――.

London, December 15, 1753.

My very dear Mr. V――,

JUST now I received, and have read over your kind letter, dated August 22d, and in reading it, could have wished for the wings of a dove, that I might have fled and embraced you in these unworthy arms, and wished you joy of being assured of his love, who so loved us as to give himself for us. May this find you in the same happy frame, and may you for ever hereafter be blessed with the uninterrupted witness of God’s Spirit, witnessing with your spirit, that you are indeed his child! As you have undergone a long and tedious law work, I hope your joys are of the right kind, and will be more substantial and lasting, than those who leap into a fancied liberty at once, and having no root in themselves, in time of temptation fall away. Your house, my dear friend, I believe, is not built upon the sand, but upon Jesus, even Jesus of Nazareth, the rock of ages; against which the gates of hell shall never be able to prevail. Whoever hath been the instrument of bringing you into this happy frame, it is no matter to me; I rejoice, yea and will rejoice. If I know any thing of my heart, I am just the same disinterested person as when I saw you, and believe me, you are my dear, very dear Gaius, my son, my friend still. Mr. S―― can tell you, why you received no letters. They are ready, and were sent to his lodgings:—but to my great surprize I was told, a coach came for him and the other passengers. Ever since I have been preaching and travelling as usual, generally twice, and frequently thrice a day. I came only last Saturday into Winter quarters, and shall long for the Spring again, that I may enter upon a fresh campaign. O that my dear Lord may never discard me from this divine employ! An itinerant pilgrim life is that which I choose.—And why? It was the life of my blessed Lord. I hope you will not fail of calling out dear Mr. Z――y to it every year.—I am sure America, dear America stands much in need of it. Let envious, lukewarm elder brethren say what they please against it, this is the way that God hath honoured, yea and I believe will honour even unto the end. But I find, love of honour, power, ease, and fulness of bread, make even good people to think, and speak, and act unlike themselves. These, these are the things which have led the Moravian brethren on this side the water, from the cross of Christ, and made them to differ as much from what once they were, as light from darkness. O how have my dear spiritual children, (for whom I travailed in birth, and whom I love as my own soul) been insensibly led away, and robbed of their spiritual and temporal substance, at least for a while, by some self-designing and deceitful men. Against these, and not the dear people, who have been eaten up as bread, with a bleeding heart, have I drawn my pen; and I believe shall rejoice that I have done so to my dying day. God grant that the like scene may never be opened on your side the water! But I forbear.—O for heaven! O for that time when we shall get out of this church militant! I long to be

Where sin and strife and sorrow cease,

And all is joy and calm and peace.

Dear Mr. J―― W―― is going thither apace: he is supposed to be in a galloping consumption. Lord Jesus, give me patience to wait till my wished-for change also shall come! I long to awake after thy likeness; I long to be dissolved to be with thee! Then, then shall I meet you, my dear friend, and rejoice, together with all the blessed train that shall follow the Lamb! O my dear Sir, bear with me, bear with me, I pray you, for indeed I am sick of love. Surely of all the redeemed, I, even ill and hell-deserving I, shall sing loudest in heaven. Behold I am vile! black, but yet comely: not in myself, but in the comeliness which my dear Jesus hath put upon me. I can now no more. I must retire to pray for you and yours. The Lord bless you, and keep you, and give you a heart continually to remember before his throne, my dear Mr. V――,

Your most affectionate friend, brother, and servant in Christ,

G. W.

LETTER MXI.

To Lady H――n.

London, December 15, 1753.

Ever-honoured Madam,

THE mail not coming in regularly, your Ladyship’s letter did not reach me till Thursday afternoon. Yesterday morning I obeyed your Ladyship’s commands, and carried the inclosed to Mrs. G――, at St. James’s palace. I was much satisfied with my visit, and am much rejoiced to find, that she seems resolved to show out at once. The court, I believe, rings of her, and if she stands, I trust she will make a glorious martyr for her blessed Lord. O that your Ladyship could see your way clear to come up! Now seems to be the time for a fresh stir. Few have either courage or conduct to head a christian party amongst persons of high life. That honour seems to be put upon your Ladyship:—and a glorious honour indeed it is. Till Mrs. G―― can meet with company that is really in earnest, I think the closer she keeps to her God and her book, the better. The Lord strengthen, stablish, and settle her in his ways and will! I am yet kept in suspence about Mrs. W――y; and have been much concerned, lest by intense sympathy, your Ladyship should contract an illness yourself. But your Ladyship hath long since learnt, that as your day is, so shall your strength be. I pray the Lord of all lords to lengthen out your important life, and make your Ladyship ten thousand times more useful than ever, long after my worthless head is laid in the silent grave. If I should live to see my dear brother truly converted unto God, O how would it delight me! The distant prospect is so pleasing, that I could scarce contain myself at the news of it. I hope to hear from him soon, having written to him lately. On Tuesday I am to dine with Mr. J―― W――, who was yesterday for a few minutes at the Foundery: but I hear his lungs are touched. I cannot wish him to survive his usefulness. It is poor living to be nursed. But our Lord knows what is best for his children. I wish I might have the use of Weststreet chapel once or twice a week; many want to hear at that end of the town: the Messrs. W――y’s are quite welcome to all the help I can give them. I have no desire but to promote the common salvation among all.

From self and party spirit free,

Simply, O Lord, I’d follow thee.

Your Ladyship will still add to my innumerable obligations, by praying that such a mind may be given to, ever-honoured Madam,

Your Ladyship’s most dutiful, obliged, and ready servant, for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXII.

To Mrs. G――.

Tabernacle-House, December 17, 1753.

Dear Madam,

I WAS so well satisfied with the frame I found you in yesterday, that I could not refrain sending you a few lines to-day. O that you may have grace given you, to stand the first attacks that you must necessarily meet with from every quarter! Blessed be God, that you are determined to shew out at once, and to let all know, that you are determined not so much as to attempt to compromise matters between Christ and the world. One might as well attempt to reconcile light and darkness, heaven and hell. Happy they who set out on a disinterested bottom; it is the foundation which our great High-priest hath laid, and is a rock that will never fail. Never fear, Madam, though storms and billows, afflictions and temptations abide you; he that enabled the three children to pass unhurt through the fiery furnace, and kept his beloved Daniel from being devoured in a den of lions, can and will preserve you unspotted and undefiled, though surrounded on every side. My poor worthless prayers shall not be wanting for you night and day. Look up, dear Madam, determine to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified, and he will make your very enemies to be at peace with you. But faith must be tried, and grace, when given, must be kept in exercise. Welcome, welcome dear Madam, into the glorious kingdom of the children of God. O that all of Cæsar’s houshold were in the same situation! How would they exult in the happy change! A change from darkness to light, from bondage and misery to the most consummate liberty and happiness. For those whom the Son of man makes free, they are free indeed. Now, now may you sing,

Be gone, vain world, my heart resign,

For I must be no longer thine;

A nobler, a diviner guest,

Now claims possession of my breast.

I could enlarge, but am afraid of being too bold. The freedom already taken, proceeds from unfeigned regard to our common Lord, to good Lady H――, and to yourself, for his great name sake. I just now informed her Ladyship of the honour done me yesterday, and of the providential call she seems to have to town. Her Ladyship is a mother in Israel indeed, a mirror of piety, detached from worldly hopes and worldly fears, and therefore no wonder that she so simply copies after her great Exemplar, and glories only in his blessed cross. Till you can find some like-minded, I believe you will find your God and your book the best company.—That you may be never less alone, than when you are alone, and that you may be continually directed so to speak and act, that you may win many souls among the rich and great to the ever-loving, ever-lovely Jesus, is and shall be the earnest constant prayer of, dear Madam,

Your most obliged and ready servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXIII.

To Mr. B――.

London, December 17, 1753.

Dear Mr. B――,

I AM sorry to find by your last, which came to hand on Saturday, that the tumults in your parts still continue at such an height. I heartily wish, that the kind and generous Justice who hath so laudably exerted himself, may have courage to proceed in a due execution of the laws, and I doubt not but the issue will be, that you will have peace. In the mean while, may the Redeemer enable you and all concerned to possess their souls in patience! I think the storm is too violent to hold long. The death of dear Mr. J―― W――, if that should be the issue of his present illness, I think is of a far more threatening nature. At present, I hear he is somewhat better, but if his distemper be a galloping consumption (as they say it is) there are but little hopes of his surviving long. But all things are possible with God. O that my tardy pace may be quickened, and my sluggish soul begin to be alive to God! He hath dealt bountifully with me since we parted. In various places the word ran and was glorified, and we had a lovely shutting-up of the Summer’s campaign in Gloucestershire.—I am now in my Winter quarters, moaning and bewailing myself, for not having done more when the days were longer. O for Spring, that I may spring afresh for my Lord! You and all must pray for me. I send you and yours, Mr. C―― and his son, and all enquiring friends (not forgetting poor Peggy) my hearty love. My wife joins with, dear Mr. B――,

Your very affectionate, sympathizing friend, and servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXIV.

To Mr. E―― P――.

London, December 17, 1753.

Dear Sir,

I DOUBT not but the receipt of this will fill you with surprize; yet I hope it will be a pleasing one. Last night after preaching, your son, who hath been lately confined, came to me and gave me a particular detail of his seemingly unhappy circumstances.—The narration affected me, and I asked him to stay supper; the company then with me I thought was what he wanted.—The consequence was, that he went home rejoicing in God; temptations subsided. I cannot help thinking, but that if he conversed with proper persons who knew his case, he might yet come forth as gold tried in the fire. His experience is somewhat uncommon, and perhaps when sufficiently humbled, the glorious Redeemer may exalt him. Satan hath certainly desired to have him to sift him as wheat; but I verily believe Jesus hath prayed for him, and therefore his faith shall not fail. As I know what unspeakable concern, tender parents must necessarily undergo for a child in such a way, I could not help sending a few lines to you. If the glorious Emmanuel, whose love constrains me to write, should vouchsafe to bless them to the consolation of you and yours, it would much rejoice, dear Sir,

Your sympathizing though unknown friend, and servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXV.

To C―― W――.

London, December 20, 1753.

My dear Friend,

I MOST sincerely rejoice in, and have given private and public thanks for the recovery of your dear yoke-fellow. My pleasure is increased by seeing your brother so well, as I found him on Tuesday at Lewisham.—O that you may both spring afresh, and your latter end increase more and more! Talk not of having no more work in the vineyard; I hope all our work is but just beginning. I am sure it is high time for me to do something for Him, who hath done and suffered so much for me.—Near forty years old, and such a dwarf! The Winter come already, and so little done in the Summer! I am ashamed, I blush and am confounded. And yet God blesseth us here. Truly his out-goings are seen in the tabernacle. The top-stone is brought forth; we will now cry Grace! grace! I must away. Our joint respects attend you all. I hope Mr. H―― mends; I hear that his brother is dead. Lord, make us also ready! My most dutiful respects await our elect Lady.—God willing, she shall hear soon from, my dear friend,

Yours, &c.

G. W.

LETTER MXVI.

To the Marquiss L――.

London, December 27, 1753.

My Lord,

A MATTER of some importance, is the occasion of my troubling your Lordship with another letter. The reverend Mr. G―― T―― of ♦Philadelphia, and the reverend Mr. D―― from Virginia (both eminent ministers of Jesus Christ) are just arrived. They are commissioned to apply for a general collection in Scotland, and to procure private contributions for the building and maintaining a presbyterian college in New-Jersey province. What I would therefore beg of your Lordship is, that your Lordship would do them the honour of permitting them to wait upon you, and that they may be also introduced to Lord L――. One Mr. D―― D――, who I believe was lately chosen a correspondent member of that society, over which your Lordship presides, and who is a steady friend to the interests of the Redeemer, if your Lordship is pleased to give leave, will come along with them. I shall wait for your Lordship’s answer, and then apprize them of it. In the mean time, I heartily wish your Lordship not the compliments, but the blessings of the season, even all those blessings that have been purchased for a lost world by the death and sufferings of an incarnate God.—Adored, for ever adored be his free grace, he vouchsafes to ♠manifest himself amongst us here. Conviction and conversion work seems to go on prosperously, and God’s people are abundantly refreshed. That your Lordship may continually drink of divine pleasures as out of a river, is and shall be the earnest prayer of, my Lord,

Your Lordship’s most dutiful, obliged and ready servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXVII.

To Mr. G――.

London, December 27, 1753.

Reverend and very dear Sir,

I AM surprized to find by your last kind letter, that my poor journals are not come to hand. My wife informs me that they were sent to, or by one Mr. E――, who was to send off goods the very next day. Perhaps it will please you to hear that Messrs. T―― and D―― supped with me last night; may the good Lord prosper the work of their hands upon them! I hope they will be introduced soon to the Marquiss of L――, and by him to Lord L――. I shall help them all I can. At the great day all things will be laid open. O how do I long for it! And yet, how ashamed shall I be to appear before my Lord, when I have done so little for him, and made such poor returns for his dying love! Would you think it? I am this day thirty-nine years of age. Did not my business require my attendance, I could lock myself up, and lie prostrate all the day long in deep humiliation before him, who hath vouchsafed to call me by his grace, reveal his son in me, and I trust made me the instrument, (O amazing love!) of calling some others to the experimental knowledge of the same unspeakable gift. My dear, very dear Sir, let none of my friends cry to such a sluggish, lukewarm, unprofitable worm, “Spare thyself.” Rather spur me on, I pray you, with an “Awake thou sleeper, and begin to begin to do something for thy God.” The Lord being my helper, I will. Do thou strengthen me, my Lord and my God, and I will go for thee, at thy command, to the uttermost parts of the earth! O break, break my heart, look to him, whom thou hast pierced.—Look and love, look and mourn, look and praise; thy God is yet thy God! Every day, Sir, we hear of fresh work; scores of notes are put up by persons brought under conviction, and God’s people are abundantly refreshed. Last night the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle; I cannot tell you half.—I am lost, I am lost in wonder. I must retire to give vent to my heart. For the present, my dear Sir, adieu! The Lord bless you and yours, and all my other dear friends. Ere long, I hope to spend an eternal new year with you in the Jerusalem which is above. That in the mean time, all things belonging to the old man may die in us, and all things belonging to the new man may more and more live and grow in us, is the earnest prayer of, my very dear Sir,

Yours most affectionately in our glorious Head,

G. W.

LETTER MXVIII.

To Lady H――n.

London, January 3, 1754.

Ever-honoured Madam,

ERE now, I hope your Ladyship is delivered from suspense, and that the danger concerning little master is entirely over. The concern I was in for your Ladyship when I wrote last, made me forget to speak about Mrs. H――. And indeed I cannot tell where she lodges. I could wish she was bettered by affliction.—But alas! though, why do I speak of others, when another new year is come, and I am bettered so little by all the Lord hath done for and in me? O that he may dig and dung round this barren fig-tree, that it may at length begin to bring forth some fruit unto God! But who can tell what this digging and dunging means? What temptations, afflictions and trials of every kind doth it include? And all little enough to keep these hearts in any tolerable order. Out of darkness he can and will bring light. That your Ladyship may experience this more and more every day, is and shall be the earnest prayer of, ever-honoured Madam,

Your Ladyship’s most dutiful, obliged, and ready servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXIX.

To Mr. W.――.

London, January 5, 1754.

My dear Mr. W――,

YOUR letter much affected as well as surprized me.—I may say of it as Dr. G―― says of the Apostle Paul’s epistle to the Ephesians, “It smelt of the prison.” Surely God’s thoughts are not as our thoughts, neither are his ways as our ways. How amazingly does he over-rule all things, for the spiritual and eternal good of those who love him in sincerity! Through his gracious and never-failing care, out of the eater cometh forth meat, and out of the strongest trial cometh forth unspeakable, spiritual sweetness. If this be the effect of affliction, then may the believer boldly say,

All hail reproach, and welcome pain!

Surely you may sing,

―― O happy rod,

Which brought me nearer to my God.

Now will you prove the strength of Jesus to be yours, now, will you find that your very enemies shall be at peace with you; ravens shall feed you, and the bread which you cast upon the waters many days ago, shall now happily be found. I sympathize most sincerely with your dear yoke-fellow, and parent. Blessed be God, we have a rich Saviour to go to.—A Saviour, who though infinitely rich in himself, yet for our sakes became poor. Rejoice then, my dear friend, for having an opportunity of being conformed to him. And whether your affliction be brought on you by any imprudent conduct, or by the immediate hand of God, cast not off I pray you your confidence in Christ. He is a compassionate high-priest. Perhaps this year, if we should live to the fall, we may have an opportunity of conversing about him face to face. In the mean while, let us pray for each other, and wait for that blessed time, when we shall be afflicted and tossed no more. I meet with my share of trials; but with thankfulness would I set up my Ebenezer; for hitherto my God hath helped me. Glory be to his great name, his word runs and is glorified more and more. The wilderness in various places blossoms like a rose. May the Lord revive his work in your parts! Mr. D―― and Mr. T―― have supped with me twice. I hope they will meet with wished-for success. My wife joins in sending love and cordial respects to your whole self, your mother, sister, and all that love the glorious Jesus in sincerity. That you all may increase with all the increase of God, is the earnest prayer of, my dear Mr. W――,

Yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXX.

To Governor B――.

London, January 11, 1754.

Honoured Sir,

I HAD the favour of your last kind letter by the hands of Messrs. T―― and D――, whose work I pray the Lord of all Lords to bless and prosper. Was Lady H――n in town, they should have been introduced before now, but at present she is at Bath drinking of the waters of life freely, and communicating them freely to others. One of Cæsar’s houshold hath been lately awakened through her Ladyship’s instrumentality, and I hope others will meet with like blessing. Amongst the common people the gospel also runs, and is glorified in divers places. Our new tabernacle the Redeemer vouchsafes to fill with his presence, and gives us daily to hear that delightful music, “The triumphs of his word.” Winter quarters are made pleasant to me, but I long for my Spring campaign.—Perhaps it may be a Spring Voyage.—For I am now seriously thinking of a voyage to America, and live in hopes of seeing your Excellency once more on this side eternity. Lord Jesus, do thou shew me what thou wouldest have me to do! This, this I trust at present is the unfeigned language of my heart,

A life that all things casts behind,

Springs forth obedient at thy call.

I beg a continued interest in your Excellency’s prayers, that I may be kept from flagging in the latter stages of my road, and ripen for heaven every day and every hour. I am now thirty-nine years old, and little dreamt of being kept on earth so long; but I find we are immortal till our work is done. O that I may now begin to begin to work for Jesus! He is worthy, he is altogether lovely, he is the fairest among ten thousand. To his never-failing mercy and endearing love I most humbly recommend your Excellency’s whole self, always subscribing myself, honoured Sir,

Your Excellency’s most dutiful, obliged, and ready servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXXI.

To Mr. S――.

London, January 11, 1754.

Dear Mr. S――,

WHY did you not apprize me of your going? Why did you not let me have an opportunity of sending my packets after you to Portsmouth? You sailed only a day or two before I came there myself. However, I am glad to hear that you are safe arrived. May it be an earnest of your arriving ere long in the kingdom of heaven! Perhaps we may meet this Summer. I hope we shall see each other grown in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. You and I are much indebted to him. We have not a moment of time to lose. We ought to be continually saying, “What shall we render unto the Lord?” O for zeal! O for activity in his glorious service! A crucified Jesus! An incarnate God! What doth his love, his dying, yet never-dying love demand at our hands? Answer that question who can. It will nonplus men and angels. Blessed be his free grace, we find here that his name is Wonderful. Our new tabernacle is compleated, and the workmen all paid. What is best of all, the Redeemer manifests his glory in it. Every day, souls come crying, “What shall we do to be saved?” This I believe you will look upon to be the best news. But I can now no more. Accept this as a token of love unfeigned, from, my dear Mr. S――,

Yours, &c. in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXII.

To Mr. B――.

London, January 19, 1754.

My dear Mr. B――,

ALL is well, and why? Because all things are of our Lord’s ordering. May he perfect his strength in your weakness, and the more the outward man decayeth, may you be strengthened so much the more by his holy spirit in the inner man!—Welcome flux, welcome fever, welcome the plague itself, if sanctified to bring us nearer to our God. Yet a little while, and he that cometh, will come, and will not tarry. I wish you much prosperity under the cross.—You must return the favour; I stand in need of much prayer. Perhaps ere long I may be called to occupy my business in the great waters. If not, God willing, you shall see me. In the mean while, pray give my love to all, especially to those mentioned in your last. God help them to hold on and hold out! In heaven they will sing the louder for being called by such an ill and hell-deserving creature as I am. Blessed be God, awakening work goes on here: every sermon preached this Winter hath been fetched out of the furnace.—But what are we to expect as christians and ministers, but afflictions? I thank you for your kind offer, and orders to command. Such I seldom comply with. Though poor, yet desiring at least to make many rich, I would have for my motto still. Some way or another, my God will supply all my wants. I am sorry that the volume of the Christian Library was forgotten. I shall write to my dear Mr. S―― to send you his, and yours may be sent to him. Whatever becomes of written christian libraries, I earnestly pray that your heart, my dear Sir, may be the library of Jesus Christ, and beg leave to subscribe myself,

Yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXIII.

To Mr. W――.

London, January 19, 1754.

Dear Mr. W――,

AS my embarking for America seems to be very near at hand, your question must necessarily be answered in the negative. However, I thank you for your kind offer, and earnestly pray that wherever you are called to labour, you may find the work of the Lord prospering in your hands. I did not know that there was any demur between you and those with whom you have been for some time connected; and I am sure, God is my witness, that I want to draw no man from them. People, money, power, are not my objects. I desire to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified, and to be a willing pilgrim for his great name’s sake. At present this is the language of my heart,

Lord, obediently I’d go,

Gladly leaving all below.

I intreat you to pray that my faith fail not. Lord, increase it for thy infinite mercy’s sake! We have blessed seasons here: the glory of the Lord fills our new tabernacle. If possible, I shall send the books you desire to Leeds. I hope you find your present illness sanctified. That is a sign of special love.—Adieu. I am in great haste. But with greater love, I subscribe myself, dear Mr. W――,

Yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXIV.

To Mr. ――.

London, February 2, 1754.

Dear Sir,

BY your writing, I guess you are a brand plucked out of the fire of the polite and gay world.—Happy deliverance! I intreat you to rejoice, give thanks, and sing,

Be gone, vain world, my heart resign,

For I must be no longer thine;

A fairer, a diviner guest,

Now claims possession of my breast.

I do not wonder to hear of your being under trials; you are to be made perfect by them. Right-hand and right-eye corruptions are not so easily cut off, or plucked out; but this must be done. Not one Agag, however beautiful, and importunate for life, must be spared: the sword of the spirit must be lifted up, and as an enemy to the Lord of life and glory, he must be hewn to pieces. Jesus, the ever-loving, ever-lovely Jesus, cannot away with idols:—And why? Because they rob us of our peace, estrange us from our God, and unfit us for the enjoyment of that better world, where I hope to see you encircled in the arms of redeeming love. Flee therefore, dear Sir, flee, I intreat you, youthful lusts. Jesus will give you wings and feet, and after all reward you, as though you fled in a strength of your own. O often, often contemplate, and dwell upon his dying for you. This will sweetly constrain you to be willing even to die for him, and powerfully constrain you to be ready to every good word and work. O that I may take this advice myself! You must pray that I may; a trial is at hand. In about three weeks I am bound for America.—A multiplicity of business lies before me; but to convince you that your correspondence is not troublesome, I snatch a few minutes to send you these lines, from, dear Sir,

Your affectionate friend and servant for Christ’s sake.

G. W.

LETTER MXXV.

To Lady H――n.

London, February 14, 1754.

Honoured Madam,

YOUR Ladyship’s kind letter came safe to hand.—I immediately sent for Mr. M――, delivered his, and saw it consumed. He hath the most grateful sense of your Ladyship’s great benevolence. It is, as your Ladyship suspects in relation to his wife; she is a Zipporah, a thorn in the flesh. Ministers must expect such things. I hope your Ladyship is enabled to bear with fortitude the scratches you must necessarily meet with in this wide howling wilderness. You have a Beloved to lean upon, who is mighty and willing to save. Blessed be his name, for giving you a heart to retire from the pomps and vanities of a dreaming and delusive world. Happy they, who can enjoy their God and themselves. This only the true christian can do. Such a one I believe your Ladyship to be.—My prayer to the Lord of all Lords in your Ladyship’s behalf, is that you may grow in grace, and abound continually in every good word and work. This is the only return I can make your Ladyship for the regard and concern you have expressed for me, as an unworthy minister of the Son of God. For his great name sake, I expect in a fortnight, once more to launch into the great deep, with about ten or twelve poor destitute orphans under my care. O my God, why am I thus honoured, to be employed as a pilgrim for thee? I trust this is the language of my heart,

A life that all things casts behind,

Springs forth obedient to thy call;

A heart that no desire can move,

But still t’adore, believe and love,

Give me, my Lord, my life, my all.

But whither am I going? Be pleased, honoured Madam, to excuse this freedom; your Ladyship’s kind letter constrains me to write thus. Honoured Madam, I thank you a thousand and a thousand times, for all your kind offers of serving me, and the church of God. At present (since you have so lately let the tabernacle have such an instance of your regard) I have only to beg the continuance of your Ladyship’s prayers, and to subscribe myself without dissimulation, honoured Madam,

Your Ladyship’s most dutiful, obliged, and ready servant for the dear Redeemer’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXXVI.

To Mrs. G――.

London, February 15, 1754.

Dear Madam,

WITH this I send you the promised pamphlet, which was written with a single eye to prevent fraud and superstition, and to promote the Mediator’s glory. Notwithstanding, I would advise you, dear Madam, not to let other people’s foibles drive you from the cross of Christ: he is altogether lovely.—And if persons were more taken up in contemplation of his loveliness, and their own deformities, they would not have so much time to talk of others, nor take so much pains to gain proselytes to any particular party under heaven. Such a practice is beneath the dignity of a free-born child of God.—His spirit breathes another kind of language, and teaches us to be all eye within. O that your heart may be filled with that wisdom which is from above, which is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be intreated, without partiality, without hypocrisy, and full of faith, self-denial, zeal, disinterestedness, and good works! That Jesus, whom I believe you love, is able, dear Madam, to fill you with this wisdom. He hath promised, “if we ask, it shall be given.” Nay, he hath said, “that he giveth liberally and upbraideth not.” May you be enabled to lay hold on him in the omnipotence of prayer, and find grace to help in every time of need! Have you not found him faithful, in your intended visit to your friend? May you be made wise as an angel of God, to win her and others over to the ever-loving, ever-lovely Jesus! Pray, dear Madam, have you heard from Bath? There is a copy you may safely write after; but a perfect one is no where to be found but in our common Lord, the God-man Christ Jesus. To his tender and never-failing mercy do I most humbly recommend you, and, for his great name’s sake, most heartily subscribe myself, dear Madam,

Your most obliged and ready servant,

G. W.

LETTER MXXVII.

To Mr. S――

Lisbon Harbour, March 17, 1754.

My very dear Sir,

SURELY our God is a prayer-hearing, promise-keeping God. He delights to disappoint our fears, and even exceeds our hopes. On the seventh instant we left Gravesend; on the eighth we passed through the downs, and yesterday we anchored in this port. Through the channel we met not with the least obstruction, neither had we the least contrary wind all the way. Cape Finisterre, the Burlings, and the rock of Lisbon, (high-lands we desired to make) we came directly upon, and though the wind was very high, yet being for us, it was not so troublesome, but (like sanctified afflictions to the christian) drove us nearer to our desired haven. We are now lying before a large place, where we see hundreds going to worship in their way. We have just been at ours, and I trust I have felt something of that rest, which remains, even on this side eternity, for the people of God. You and yours are not forgotten by me at his throne. No, I remember you night and day, and am longing for that happy time, when we shall part no more. Though sent without a friend to return with me, yet I am not left alone. I thank the Lord of all Lords, for honouring me so far as to employ me on such expeditions as these. O my God, what am I, that I should be called to leave my native country, and to sacrifice not only my carnal but spiritual affections for thee! Thy presence on earth, thy presence in heaven, will make amends for all. Well! Blessed be God, this heaven is at hand. Yet a little while, and he that cometh, will come, and will not tarry. O that he may find us busy for him! I am persuaded this will be your case. Add, my dear Sir, to my manifold obligations, by praying that it may be mine also.—Fain would I be kept from flagging in the latter stages of my road; fain would I return to my native country (if I am to return) grown in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Indeed he is a good master. He hath given me the affections of all on board, and as kind a Captain as we could desire. What I meet with when on shore, you may know hereafter. I grudge your paying postage for my poor scribble, and yet I know not well how to prevent it. Be pleased to put it down to the amount of our common Lord, and if you have any leisure from working for the poor, and trading for him, let me have a line. I recommend you and them to the Redeemer’s never-failing mercy, and am, I trust with some degree of gratitude, very dear Sir,

Yours, &c.

G. W.

LETTER MXXVIII.

To Mr. B――.

Lisbon Harbour, March 19, 1754.

My dear Mr. B――,

HOW soon does the scene shift? At what a distance, in a few days, may we be removed from each other! On the sixteenth instant, that God whom I desire to serve in the gospel of his dear Son, brought me and my orphan charge to this harbour. As yet I have not been on shore, but expect to go to-morrow. At this distance, I see enough to bless the Lord of all Lords for calling me out of darkness into his marvelous light, and for redeeming me from this present evil world. O my dear friend, to an eye fixed on the ever-loving, ever-lovely Jesus, how little, unspeakably little do all sublunary things appear. I hope this will find my dear Mr. B―― crying out from the bottom of his heart, “indeed they are not worth a thought.” Well said, my dear Sir; let us then be laudably ambitious, and get as rich as we can towards God; such are durable riches. The bank of heaven is a sure bank. I have drawn thousands of bills upon it, and never had one sent back protested. God helping me, I purpose lodging my little earthly all there. I hope my present poor but valuable cargo, will make some additions to my heavenly inheritance. O free grace! That ever such an ill and hell-deserving wretch as I am, should ever be called out to leave his carnal and spiritual friends, for that friend of sinners the Lamb of God! These partings are indeed trying to nature; but heaven, my dear Sir, will make amends for all. There I hope to meet you and yours, whom I love in the bowels of Jesus Christ; there you shall be amply rewarded for all acts of kindness conferred either on me or mine. Increase my obligations, by continuing to pray for us, and accept this as a small tribute of thanks, and a testimony of love unfeigned, from, my dear friend,

Yours most affectionately in our glorious Head,

G. W.

LETTER MXXIX.

To Mr. R. K――n.

Lisbon, March 21, 1754.

My dear Mr. K――n,

I DO not forget my promise, either in respect to writing or praying.—Though at this distance, I am still present in spirit with you and yours, and with my other dear London friends; and I live in the expectation of seeing them all grown in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.—This leaves me an old inhabitant of Lisbon.—We have now been here almost a week, and I suppose shall stay a fortnight longer.—A very reputable merchant hath received me into his house, and every day shews me the ecclesiastical curiosities of the country.—O my dear friend, bless the Lord of all Lords for causing your lot to be cast into such a fair ground as England, and giving you such a goodly heritage.—It is impossible to be sufficiently thankful for civil and religious liberty, for simplicity of worship, and powerful preaching of the word of God.—O for simplicity of manners, and a correspondent behaviour! “What shall I render unto the Lord for these amazing mercies,” ought surely to be the language of our hearts.—O that I was thankful! O that I was humble! My obligations to be so increase daily.—Every where does the Lord of all Lords command somebody or another to receive me.—All is well on board, and Lisbon air agrees with my poor constitution extremely.—Through divine assistance, I hope what I see will also much improve my better part, and help to qualify me better for preaching the everlasting gospel.—Amazing, that such an honour should be conferred on such an ill and hell-deserving worm! O pray for me, my dear friends, and add to my obligations by frequently visiting my poor wife.—Kindnesses shewn to her in my absence, will be double kindnesses.—You must remember me to dear Mr. C――n, to your relations, and all enquiring friends.—Adieu! The Lord Jesus be with your spirits. I am, my dear Mr. and Mrs. K――n,

Yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXX.

To Mr. C――.

Lisbon, March 26, 1754.

My dear Friend,

SHALL I promise and not perform? I dare not. This therefore comes to inform you, that I am now as it were an old inhabitant of Lisbon, having been here above a week. In that time, what have I seen and heard? Strange and incredible things, not more strange than instructive. Never did civil and religious liberty appear to me in so amiable a light as now. What a spirit must Martin Luther, and the first Reformers be endued with, that dared to appear as they did for God! Lord, hasten that blessed time, when others, excited by the same spirit, shall perform like wonders. O happy England! O happy Methodists, who are Methodists indeed! And all I account such, who being dead to sects and parties, aim at nothing else but an holy method of living to, and dying in the blessed Jesus. This be their, this be my happy lot! Blessed be his name for calling me to a pilgrim life! Thanks be to his great name, for constraining me to leave all that is near and dear to me, for the sake of his glorious gospel. He takes care to provide for me. A gentleman hath most gladly received me into his house, and behaves like a friend indeed. To-day I dine with the Consul: ere long, I hope to sit down and eat bread in the kingdom of God. I wait for this salvation, O Lord! You must pray for me, and desire others to join with you. I intend writing to our elect Lady before I leave Lisbon. In about ten days we expect to sail. For the present, adieu! This leaves us all well. My fatherless charge is in good health. O that they may be converted and made new creatures in Christ! O that I may begin to begin to be converted myself.—I am a dwarf.—Less than the least of all, shall be my motto still. As such, pray for, my dear friend.

Yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXI.

To Mr. A――.

Lisbon, March 29, 1754.

Very dear Friend,

INDEED you have lost the seeing and hearing of many strange, but to a truly enlightened soul, instructive things. I thank God for sending me here; I know your heart hath been here also; but all is well.—What is, is best. I hope you go on comfortably at home, whilst I, unworthy, ill and hell-deserving I, am travelling for the same Lord Jesus abroad. He doth not leave me comfortless,—he doth not leave me alone;

His presence doth my pains beguile,

And makes me tho’ alone to smile.

O the happiness of seeing and enjoying all in God, even a God in Christ! Such happiness they only can know, who being separated from all that is near and dear unto them, can wrap themselves in Him, in whose presence there is life, and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore. This be my happy lot, during my present exile state! O my dear tabernacle friends, my dear never to be forgotten hearers, into what a fair ground is your lot cast! What a goodly heritage hath the Lord of all Lords vouchsafed you! I remember my promise, I think of your hours of meeting, and though absent in body, am, notwithstanding, present in spirit, and live in hopes of hearing of your stedfastness and joy in God our Saviour. Bless him, O bless him from your inmost souls, that you have been taught the way to him, without the help of fictitious saints. Thank him night and day, that to you, even to you are committed the lively oracles of God. Adore him continually for giving you to hear them preached with power, and pity and pray for those, who are forbid the use of this sacred depositum, and are led blindfold day by day, by crafty and designing men. May you see and improve your privileges! Much, very much indeed is given you. Of you, therefore, God and man may justly require the more: accept this in love. Continue to pray for me and my fatherless pilgrim charge. Blessed be God they are all well. I write this from a merchant’s house, whom the Lord of all lords hath inclined to receive me; let him not be forgotten. In a short time we expect to move. Still my request is, “If thy presence go not with me. Lord Jesus, send me not even from hence!” I wish you all, dear friends, much, very much of it. I intend to write to as many as I can, and I beg them and you to accept this as a token of love unfeigned, from, my very dear T――,

Theirs and yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXII.

To the Rev. Mr. Z――.

Lisbon, March 29, 1754.

My dear and honoured Sir,

THROUGH the goodness of a gracious and never-failing God, we have been at this place near a fortnight. Our voyage was but about nine days long, and the same God who took care of us on the great deep, hath also provided for me on shore. A merchant of great credit hath received me into his house, and every day I have seen or heard something, that hath had a native tendency to make me thankful for the glorious reformation. O that our people were equally reformed in their lives, as they are in their doctrines and manner of worship! But alas! alas!—O for another Luther, O for that wished-for season, when every thing that is antichristian shall be totally destroyed by the breath of the Redeemer’s mouth, and brightness of his appearing! Then should I, even ill and hell-deserving I, be entirely conformed to the copy of my great Exemplar, and nor be such a dwarf as I am in the divine life. As my present situation leads me to be all eye and ear, I endeavour to look more into my heart. But the more I see it, the more I admire the freeness and richness of that grace, that hath called me out of darkness into God’s marvelous light, and made me a minister of the everlasting gospel. May this voyage be over-ruled for my improvement in that delightful employ! Hitherto, I think it hath done me good. The country agrees with my bodily health; and, through grace, I trust what I have seen and heard hath benefited my soul. My fatherless charge are all well, and I hope in a few days we shall set sail for Georgia. From thence, God willing, honoured Sir, you shall hear from me again. In the meanwhile, I recommend myself to the continuance of your daily intercession, as being, very dear and honoured Sir,

Your most dutiful, obliged, though unworthy son and servant in our glorious Head,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXIII.

To Mr. C――.

Lisbon, March 30, 1754.

Very dear Sir,

THIS leaves me pretty well satisfied (not to say surfeited) with the ecclesiastical curiosities of Lisbon. This day fortnight we arrived; and the country being in want of rain, and it being Lent season, we have been savoured with frequent processions, and several extraordinary pieces of scenery. Alas! to what lengths will superstition run! And how expensive is the pageantry of a false religion! Blessed be God for being born in England! Blessed be God for being born again, and thereby being taught to worship the Father in spirit and in truth! This, my dear Sir, I believe is your happy portion; and therefore if it should be our lot never to meet here any more, I am persuaded nothing can prevent our meeting in a blissful country hereafter. O that we may be kept from flagging in the latter stages of our road! I am confounded, when I think what a drone I have been, and daily wonder why the Lord employs such a worthless wretch.—Surely it must be, that in me he may shew all long-suffering. Help me, my dear friend, to praise him. Lisbon air seems healthy for the body; and what I have seen and heard I trust will benefit my soul. Be pleased to remember me to Mrs. C――, your son, and all enquiring friends. You will not forget to visit my widow wife. Blessed be God, her Maker is her husband, and ere long we shall all sit down together at the feast, the marriage supper of the Lamb. In a believing prospect of this, I subscribe myself, very dear Sir,

Yours, &c. in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXIV.

To Mr. F――.

Lisbon, March 31, 1754.

Dear Sir,

I OWE you much love.—I wish you and yours much ♦happiness, and earnestly pray that you may walk together many years as heirs of the grace of life. Was I to be confined long in my present situation, I should be in danger of envying my protestant friends, who breathe in a free air, and are taught to worship the father of spirits in spirit and in truth. This I fear is the lot but of few here; all is pageantry and pomp. Particulars perhaps I may send by another opportunity. Blessed be God that I have seen and heard for myself. It surpasseth all description. This week we expect to sail: I beg the continuance of both your prayers; it will be a very great act of charity; for indeed I am a poor helpless worm, but notwithstanding, if I know any thing of my heart, willing to spend and be spent for Jesus. He doth not forsake me on the mighty waters.—My fatherless charge are all well, and in due time I hope we shall safely arrive at our desired port.—Ere long I hope to be, from whence I shall never put to sea any more. O for a triumphant entrance into the blissful harbour! Jesus is able to do this for us. To his never-failing mercy do I earnestly commend you, your brother, and all enquiring friends, as being, dear Sir,

Your affectionate, obliged friend, and ready servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXV.

To Mr. ――.

Lisbon, April 1, 1754.

My dear Friend,

BY this time, I suppose, you have heard of my arrival at Lisbon, and are wondering what led me thither, especially since my last informed you of my intention to go to Georgia by way of New-York. This was really my design at the time of my writing; but being afterward called by Providence to take with me several orphan children, I thought it most adviseable to go and settle them, and my other domestic affairs, at the Orphan-house first, that I might visit the northern parts of America with more ease and freedom in my own mind.—It happened that the Success, Captain Thomson, bound for Port-Royal, South-Carolina, (which is not very far from Georgia) was then almost ready to sail.—I sent for the Owner, and finding that the ship was to touch at Lisbon to unload some wheat, it occasioned a little demur; but, upon second thoughts, believing it might be serviceable to me, as a preacher and protestant, to see something of the superstitions of the church of Rome, I took my passage, and embarked in the Success the 7th of March. On the 14th we reached Cape Finister. On the 15th came in sight of the Burlings; and on the 16th anchored safe before Bellem, about four miles distance from Lisbon, the metropolis of Portugal. As I knew nobody there, and had formed but an indifferent idea of the inhabitants, from the account that had been given me of them, I had purposed within myself to keep on board, and go ashore only now and then in the day-time. But Providence so ordered it, that a gentleman of the factory, who had heard me himself, and whose brother had been awakened under my ministry several years ago, immediately, on hearing of my arrival, sent me an offer of his house during my stay. I thankfully accepted it; and special leave being procured for my going ashore, I was carried in a chaise and pair from Bellem to Lisbon. A new scene, both in respect to the situation of the place, the fashion of the buildings, and the dress of the inhabitants, presented itself all the way. But what engaged my attention most, was the number of crucifixes, and little images of the Virgin Mary, and of other real or reputed saints, which were placed almost in every street, or fixed against the walls of the houses almost at every turning, with lamps hanging before them. To these, I observed the people bow as they passed along; and near some of them stood several little companies, singing with great earnestness.――This seemed to me very odd, and gave me an idea of what further ecclesiastical curiosities would probably fall in my way, if I should be detained here any time. These expectations were quickly raised; for, not long after my arrival at my new lodgings, (where I was received and entertained with great gentility, hospitality and friendliness) upon looking out of the window, I saw a company of priests and friars bearing lighted wax tapers, and attended by various sorts of people, some of which had bags and baskets of victuals in their hands, and others carried provisions upon their shoulders on sticks between two. After these, followed a mixed multitude, singing with a very audible voice, and addressing the Virgin Mary in their usual strain, “Ora pro nobis.” In this manner they proceeded to the prison, where all was deposited for the use of the poor persons confined therein. But a far more pompous procession of the like nature (as a stander-by informed me) passed by a few days before. In this there were near three hundred Franciscan friars, many of which (besides porters hired for the purpose) were loaded with a variety of food; and those who bore no burden, carried either ladles or spoons in their hands. Sights of this nature being quite a novelty to me, I was fond of attending as many of them as I could. Two things concurred to make them more frequent at this juncture,—the season of Lent,—and an excessive drought, which threatened the total destruction of the fruits of the earth. For the averting so great a judgment, and for the imploring the much longed-for blessing of rain, daily processions had been made from one convent or another, for a considerable time.—One of these I saw: it was looked upon as a pretty grand one, being made up of the Carmelite friars, the parish priests, and a great number of what they call the brothers of the order, who walked two by two in divers habits, holding a long and very large lighted wax-taper in their right hands. Amidst these was carried, upon eight or ten mens shoulders, a tall image of the Virgin Mary, in a kind of man’s attire; for I think she had a very fine white wig on her head, (a dress she often appears in) and was much adorned with jewels and glittering stones. At some distance from the Lady, under a large canopy of state, and supported likewise by six or eight persons, came a priest, holding in his hand some noted relic. After him, followed several thousands of people, joining with the friars in singing, “Eandem cantilenam, Ora pro nobis,” all the way. Still rain was denied, and still processions were continued. At length the clouds began to gather, and the mercury in the barometer fell very much. Then was brought out a wooden image, which they say never failed. It was the figure of our blessed Lord, cloathed with purple robes, and crowned with thorns. I think they call him the Lord of the Passion. Upon his shoulders he bore a large cross, under the weight of which he was represented as stooping, till his body bent almost double. He was brought from the Le Grass convent in very great pomp, and placed in a large cathedral church.――Being on board at that time, I lost this sight; but the subsequent evening I beheld the Seigneur fixed on an eminence in a large cathedral church, near the altar, surrounded with wax tapers of a prodigious size.—He was attended by many noblemen, and thousands of spectators of all ranks and stations, who crouded from every quarter, and in their turns, were admitted by the guards to come within the rails, and perform their devotions. This they expressed by kneeling, and kissing the Seigneur’s heel, by putting their left and right eye to it, and then touching it with their beads, which a gentleman in waiting received from them, and then returned again. This scene was repeated for three days successively; and during all this time, the church and space before it was so thronged with carriages and people, that there was scarce any passing. The music on this occasion was extremely soft, and the church was illuminated in a very striking manner. The third day in the forenoon it rained, and soon after the Seigneur was conducted home in as great splendour, and with much greater rejoicing, than when he was brought forth. As my situation was very commodious, I saw the whole; and afterwards went and heard part of the sermon, which was delivered before him, in the church to which the Seigneur belonged. The preacher was full of action; and in some part of his discourse, (as one who understood Portuguese informed me) pointing to the image, he said, “Now he is at rest.—He went out in justice, but is returned in mercy.” And towards the conclusion, he called upon the people to join with him in an extempore prayer. This they did with great fervency, which was expressed not only by repeating it aloud, but by beating their breasts, and clapping their cheeks, and weeping heartily.――To compleat the solemnity, immediately after the delivery of the blessing, all on a sudden, from the place near which the image stood, there was heard a most soft and soothing symphony of music, which being ended, the assembly broke up, and I returned to my lodgings; not a little affected, to see so many thousands led away from the simplicity of the gospel, by such a mixture of human artifice and blind superstition, of which indeed I could have formed no idea, had I not been an eye witness. This concern was still increased, by what I heard from some of my fellow passengers, who informed me, that about eleven one night, after I came aboard, they not only heard a friar preaching most fervently before the Seigneur, but also saw several companies of penitents brought in, lashing and whipping themselves severely. How little unlike this, to those who cut themselves with knives and lancets, and cried out from morning till night, “O Baal, hear us.”――Methinks I hear you say, “And had I been present, I should have wished for the spirit of an Elijah to—” Hush, my friend,—I am content to guess at the rest till we meet. In the mean while, let us comfort ourselves with this thought, that there is a season approaching, when the Lord God of Elijah will himself come, and destroy this and every other species of antichrist, by the breath of his mouth, and the brightness of his appearing, even by the all-conquering manifestations of his eternal Spirit. Whether as men, christians, and protestants, we have not more and more reason to pray night and day, for the hastening on of that glorious and long wished-for period, you will be better able to judge, when I send you (as I purpose to do, if I have time) a further account of a Lent procession or two, of which I was also a spectator.――At present I can only beg a continual remembrance at a throne of grace, as being, my dear friend,

Yours most respectfully in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXVI.

To the Same.

Lisbon, April 3, 1754.

My dear Friend,

THOUGH some other business demands my attentions yet I must not forget the promise made you of a further account of the processions I saw at Lisbon.――Some of those already mentioned, were extraordinary, by reason of their great drought; but that which is to be the subject of my present letter, was an annual one: it being customary at Lisbon to exhibit some procession or another every Friday in Lent. An intelligent Protestant, who stood near me, was so good as to be my interpreter of the dumb shew as it passed along.—I say dumb shew: for you must know it was chiefly made up of waxen or wooden images, carried on mens shoulders through the streets, intending to represent the life and death of St. Francis, the founder of one of their religious orders. They were brought out from the Franciscan convent, and were preceded by three persons in scarlet habits, with baskets in their hands, in which they received the alms of the spectators, for the benefit of the poor prisoners. After these, came two little boys in party-coloured cloaths, with wings fixed on their shoulders, in imitation of little angels.—Then appeared the figure of St. Francis, very gay and beau-like, as he used to be before his conversion. In the next, he was introduced under conviction, and consequently stript of his finery. Soon after this, was exhibited an image of our blessed Lord himself, in a purple gown, with long black hair, with St. Francis lying before him, to receive his immediate orders. Then came the Virgin Mother, (horresco referens) with Christ her son at her left hand, and St. Francis making his obeisance to both.――Here, if I remember aright, he made his first appearance in his friar’s habit, with his hair cut short, but not as yet shaved in the crown of his head. After a little space, followed a mitred Cardinal gaudily attired, and before him lay St. Francis almost prostrate, in order to be confirmed in his office. Soon after this, he appears quite metamorphosed into a monk, his crown shorn, his habit black, and his loins girt with a knotted cord.—Here he prays to our Saviour hanging on a cross, that the marks of the wounds in his hands, feet, and side, might be impressed on the same parts of his body. The prayer is granted; blood comes from the hands, feet, and side; and the saint, with great devotion, receives the impressions. This was represented by red waxen strings, reaching from those parts of the image to the corresponding parts of St. Francis’s body. Upon this he begins to do wonders; and therefore, in a little while, he is carried along, as holding up a house which was just falling. This miracle, they say, was performed (if my information be true) at Madrid, but the particulars of its history I have forgotten. At length the father dies, and is brought forth lying in his grave. But lo! the briars and nettles under which he lay, are turned into fine and fragrant flowers. After this he is borne along upon a bier covered with a silver pall, and four friars lamenting over him.――He then appears for the last time, but with an increase of power; for he was represented as drawing tormented people out of purgatory with his knotted cord, which, as you may well imagine, the poor souls catched at, and took hold of very eagerly. At length came a gorgeous friar under a splendid canopy, bearing in his hand a piece of the holy cross. After him followed two more little winged boys, and then a long train of fat and well-flavoured Franciscans, with their Calceis Fenestratis, as Erasmus calls them; and so the procession ended. Methinks I hear you say, “It is full time;”—and so say I: for as the sight itself disgusted me, so I am persuaded the bare narration of it, though ever so short, cannot be very pleasant to one who I know abhors every thing that savours of superstition and idolatry. We will therefore take our leave of St. Francis, whose procession was in the day time: but I must tell you it is only to inform you of another of a much more awful and shocking nature, which I saw afterwards at night. About ten o’clock, being deeply engaged in conversation with my kind host, in came an Englishman, and told me in all haste, that he had seen a train of near two hundred penitents passing along, and that in all probability I might be gratified with the same sight, if I hastened to a place whither he would conduct me. I very readily obeyed the summons, and, as curiosity quickened my pace, we soon came up with some of those poor creatures, who were then making a halt, and kneeling in the street, whilst a friar from a high cross, with an image of our Lord crucified in his hand, was preaching to them and the populace with great vehemence. Sermon being ended, the penitents went forwards, and several companies followed after with their respective preaching friars at their head, bearing crucifixes. These they pointed to and brandished frequently, and the hearers as frequently beat their breasts, and clapped their cheeks. At proper pauses they stopped and prayed, and one of them, more zealous than the rest, before the King’s palace, sounded the word penitentia through a speaking trumpet. The penitents themselves were clothed and covered all over with white linen vestments, only holes were made for their eyes to peep out at. All were bare-footed, and all had long heavy chains fastened to their ancles, which, when dragged along the street, made a dismal rattling: but though alike in dress, yet in other respects there was great variety amongst them. For some carried great stones on their backs, and others dead mens bones and skulls in their hands. Some bore large and seemingly very heavy crosses upon their shoulders, whilst others had their arms extended quite wide, or carried a bow full of swords with the points downwards. Most of them whipped and lashed themselves, some with cords, and others with flat bits of iron. It being a moonshine night, I could see them quite well; and indeed some of them struck so hard, that I perceived their backs (left bare on purpose to be slashed) were quite red, and swoln very much by the violence and repetition of the blows. Had my dear friend been there, he would have joined with me in saying, that the whole scene was horrible;—so horrible, that, being informed it was to be continued till morning, I was glad to return from whence I came about midnight.――Had you been with me, I know you would have joined with me in praising and gratefully adoring the Lord of all lords, for the great wonder of the reformation, and also for that glorious deliverance wrought out for us a few years past, in defeating the unnatural rebellion. O what a mighty spirit and power from on high must Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, Zuinglius, and those glorious reformers, be necessarily endued with, who dared first openly to oppose and stem such a torrent of superstition and spiritual tyranny! and what gratitude owe we to those, who, under God, were instrumental in saving us from the return of such spiritual slavery, and such blind obedience to a papal power! To have had a papist for our king;—a papist, if not born, yet from his infancy nursed up at Rome;—a papist, one of whose sons is advanced to the ecclesiastical dignity of a Cardinal, and both under the strongest obligations to support the interest of that church, whose superstitions, as well as political state principles, they have sucked in, and imbibed even from their infancy. But, blessed be God, the snare is broken, and we are delivered. O for protestant practices to be added to protestant principles! O for an obediential acknowledgment to the ever-blessed God for our repeated deliverances! But alas!――Pardon me, my dear friend, I stop to weep. Adieu. I cannot enlarge, but leaving you to guess from what source my tears flow, I must hasten to subscribe myself, my dear Sir,

Yours most cordially in our blessed Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXVII.

To Mr. B――.

Lisbon, April 9, 1754.

Reverend and dear Sir,

THE time of our departure hence is just at hand. I cannot move without sending you a few lines; I remember your unmerited love, I remember our affectionate parting, and I trust feel the benefit of your distant prayers. Though called to part with what is dearer to me than life, yet my heavenly Father hath not left me comfortless. True, it is a silent, but I hope an instructive period of life. One must be all eye and ear at Lisbon:—and indeed, I would not but have seen and heard what hath passed here, since our arrival, upon any account. It surpasseth all description. Surely England, and English privileges civil and religious, will be dearer to me than ever. The preachers here have also taught me something; their action is graceful. Vividi oculi,—vividæ manus,—omnia vivida. Surely our English preachers would do well, to be a little more fervent in their address. They have truth on their side, why should superstition and falshood run away with all that is pathetic and affecting? But my dear friend needs not this note. Blessed be God for making you fervent in spirit. Go on, my dear Sir, in the name and strength of Jesus. Sequar, etsi non passibus æquis.—Nil desperandum Christo duce. Pray remember me to all that love him, and are so kind as to enquire after a worthless worm for his great name’s sake. It will be an act of the greatest charity to intercede in my behalf. Alas! alas! I am a dwarf indeed. My dear Sir, pray that I may grow, I cannot bear to live at this dying rate. I want to be a flame of fire. That this may be your happy lot, is and shall be, through Christ strengthening me, the earnest request of, my very dear Sir,

Your most unworthy, though affectionate friend, brother, and fellow-labourer in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXVIII.

To Mrs. G――.

Lisbon, April 9, 1754.

Dear Madam,

I HOPE this will find you more than happy, in the enjoyment of Him, whose death and passion many at this season are peculiarly called upon to remember, and be thankful for. Vast are the outward preparations made here. Altars upon altars are erecting. Penitents upon penitents are walking and lashing themselves: but what I want to have erected and adorned, is an altar in my heart, and the blows and lashes I desire to feel, are the crucifixion and mortification of the old man and its deeds. Without this, all is mere parade. God be praised for opening your eyes, and teaching you the holy art of worshipping him in spirit and in truth. Is it not a glorious privilege? Would you lose it for ten thousand worlds? Blessed be God, it is in safe hands! The life of a believer is a hidden life; a life hid with Christ in God. May the Author and Finisher thereof, cause it to open and be displayed more and more every hour and every moment in your heart! Thus prays, dear Madam,

Your most obliged and ready servant for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXXXIX.

To Mr. H――.

Lisbon, April 10, 1754.

My very dear Friend,

STILL I am here, surrounded with every thing, in an ecclesiastical way, that can offend a mind which desires to worship the Lord Jesus in outward as well as inward simplicity. To-morrow is what they call Holy Thursday. May I be as solicitous to have my heart illuminated by the spirit of God, as the people here are to illuminate their churches and altars. The pageantry is indeed incredible. Though we have been detained longer than expectation, yet I trust what I have seen and heard, will do me service in the future part of my life. Was I returning to, as I am going from England, and had I a proper companion, I would make a tour to Leghorn, Genoa, Rome, &c. and so to Marseilles. What instruction would such a mind as yours gather from such various scenes? O that I may be like a busy bee, and suck some honey even from superstitious flowers! I do not wonder now, whence the illuminations, dressing of altars, and those other things which I have lately mentioned in a public manner on another occasion, took their birth. It is all in imitation of what is daily practised abroad. May the Lord Jesus crush the cockatrice in its egg, and prevent its growing any bigger! I write this from a merchant’s house, who sent for me from on board. Thus our Lord provides for those that are employed for him. Help me to praise him. My fatherless charge are all well. In a day or two we expect to sail. My most cordial respects attend your mother, and all your dear relations. Continue to pray for me, and thereby add to the obligations already conferred on, my very dear friend,

Yours most affectionately in our common Lord,

G. W.

LETTER MXL.

Lisbon, April 12, 1754.

My dear Friend,

PROVIDENCE still detains us at Lisbon, and therefore I know you will be enquiring what more news from thence?—Truly, as extraordinary as ever—for I have now seen the solemnities of an Holy-Thursday, which is a very high day in this metropolis, and particularly remarkable for the grand illuminations of the churches, and the king’s washing twelve poor men’s feet.—Through the interest of a friend, I got admittance into the gallery where the ceremony was performed. It was large, and hung with tapestry; one piece of which represented the humble Jesus washing the feet of his disciples.—Before this, upon a small eminence, sat twelve men in black. At the upper end, and in several other parts of the gallery, were side-boards of large gold and silver basons and ewers most curiously wrought; and near these a large table covered with a variety of dishes, all cold, set off and garnished after the Portuguese fashion. Public high mass being over, his majesty came in attended with his nobles, who seemed to me to look like so many Roman senators. The act of washing the feet, I did not get in time enough to see; but that being ended, several of the young noblemen served up the dishes to the king’s brother and uncles; these again handed them to his majesty, who gave (I think) twelve of them in all to each poor man. Every thing was carried on with a great deal of decency and good humour. The young noblemen served very chearfully, their seniors looked quite pleased, and the king and his royal relations behaved in a very polite, easy manner,—upon the whole, though as you may easily guess it was not an exact copy of the tapestry, yet, as the poor mens cloaths and food, when sold, came to about ten moidores; and as there was little mixture of superstition in it, I cannot say but I was as well pleased with my morning’s entertainment as with any thing I had seen since my arrival.—I believe the whole took up near two hours. After dinner we went to see the churches; but the ♦magnificence and sumptuousness of the furniture, cannot well be expressed.—Many of them were hung on the occasion with purple damask trimmed with gold.—In one of them there was a solid silver altar of several yards circumference, and near twelve steps high: and in another a gold one, still more magnificent, of about the same dimensions.—Its basis was studded with many precious stones, and near the top were placed silver images, in representation of angels. Each step was filled with large silver candlesticks, with wax-tapers in them, which going up by a regular ascent, ’till they formed themselves into a pyramid, made a most glittering and splendid blaze.—The great altars also of the other churches were illuminated most profusely, and silver pots of artificial flowers, with a large wax-taper between each, were fixed all round several of them.—Between these, were large paintings in black and white, representing the different parts of our Saviour’s passion. And, in short, all was so magnificently, so superstitiously grand, that I am persuaded several thousands of pounds would not defray the expences of this one day. Go which way you would, nothing was to be seen but illuminations within, and hurry without.—For all persons, princes and crowned heads themselves not excepted, are obliged on this day to visit seven churches or altars, in imitation, as is supposed, of our Lord’s being hurried from one tribunal to another, before he was condemned to be hung upon the cross.—I saw the queen pass by in great state to visit three of them. Velvet cushions were carried before her Majesty, and boards laid along the streets for herself and retinue to walk upon. Guards attended before and behind, and thousands of spectators stood on each side to gaze at them as they passed along. Being desirous of seeing the manner of their entrance, we got into the last church before they came. It was that of St. Domingo, where was the gold altar before mentioned, and at which her Majesty and train knelt about a quarter of an hour.—All the while, the Dominican friars sung most surprisingly sweet. But as I stood near the altar, over against the great door, I must confess my very inmost soul was struck with a secret horror, when, upon looking up, I saw over the front of the great window of the church, the heads of many hundred Jews, painted on canvas, who had been condemned by what they call the Holy Inquisition, and carried out from that church to be burnt.—Strange way this, of compelling people to come in! Such was not thy method, O meek and compassionate Lamb of God! Thou camest not to destroy mens lives, but to save them.—But bigotry is as cruel as the grave.—It knows no remorse.—From all its bitter and dire effects, good Lord deliver us!—But to return to the Queen. Having performed her devotions, she departed and went in a coach of state, I believe, directly from the church to her palace, and without doubt sufficiently fatigued: for, besides walking through the streets to the several churches, her Majesty also, and the princesses, had been engaged in waiting upon, and washing the feet of twelve poor women, in as public a manner as the king. In our walk home, we met his Majesty with his brother and two uncles, attended only with a few noblemen in black velvet, and a few guards without halberts. I suppose he was returning from his last church, and, as one may well imagine, equally fatigued with his royal consort and daughters.—When church and state thus combine to be nursing fathers and nursing mothers to superstition, is it any wonder that its credit and influence is so diffusive among the populace?—O Britain! Britain! hast thou but zeal proportionable to thy knowledge, and inward purity adequate to the simplicity of thy external worship, in what a happy and god-like situation wouldst thou be! Here I could weep again.—Again I leave you to guess the cause; and if I can send you one more letter of a like nature, before we leave this place, it is all you must expect from, my dear friend,

Your’s most assuredly in our glorious Head,

G. W.

LETTER MXLI.

To Mr. ――.

Lisbon, April 12, 1755.

My dear Friend,

AFTER the news already sent you, I thought our Lisbon correspondence would entirely have been put a stop to; for upon returning to my lodgings, (as weary I believe as others that had been running from church to church all day) word was sent me, that our ship would certainly sail the next morning. This news, I own, was not altogether agreeable to me, because I wanted to see the conclusion of the Lent solemnities. However, I made ready; and having dispatched my private affairs the over-night, was conducted very early in the morning, by my kind host, down to Bellem, where the ship lay. We parted. The wind promised to be fair; but dying away, I very eagerly went ashore once more. But how was the scene changed! Before, all used to be noise and hurry;—now, all was hushed and shut up in the most awful and profound silence. No clock or bell had been heard since yesterday noon, and scarce a person was to be seen in the street all the way to Lisbon. About two in the afternoon we got to the place, where (I had heard some days ago) an extraordinary scene was to be exhibited. Can you guess what it was?—Perhaps not. Why then I will tell you. “It was the crucifixion of the Son of God, represented partly by dumb images, and partly by living persons, in a large church belonging to the convent of St. De Beato.” Several thousands crouded into it; some of whom, as I was told, had been waiting there from even six in the morning.—Through the kind interposition and assistance of a protestant or two, I was not only admitted into the church, but was very commodiously situated to view the whole performance. We had not waited long before the curtain was drawn up. Immediately, upon a high scaffold hung in the front with black bays, and behind with silk purple damask laced with gold, was exhibited to our view an image of the Lord Jesus at full length, crowned with thorns, and nailed on a cross between two figures of like dimensions, representing the two thieves. At a little distance on the right hand, was placed an image of the virgin Mary, in plain long ruffles, and a kind of widow-weeds. Her veil was purple silk, and she had a wire glory round her head.—At the foot of the cross lay, in a mournful pensive posture, a living man, dressed in woman’s cloaths, who personated Mary Magdalen; and not far off stood a young man, in imitation of the beloved disciple.—He was dressed in a loose green silk vesture, and bob-wig.—His eyes were fixed on the cross, and his two hands a little extended. On each side, near the front of the stage, stood two centinels in buff, with formidable caps and long beards; and directly in the front stood another yet more formidable, with a large target in his hand. We may suppose him to be the Roman centurion. To compleat the scene, from behind the purple hangings came out about twenty little purple-vested winged boys, two by two, each bearing a lighted wax-taper in his hand, and a crimson and gold cap on his head.—At their entrance upon the stage, they gently bowed their heads to the spectators, then kneeled and made obeisance, first to the image on the cross, and then to that of the virgin Mary.—When risen, they bowed to each other, and then took their respective places over-against one another, on steps assigned for them at the front of the stage. Opposite to this, at a few yards distance, stood a black friar in a pulpit hung in mourning. For a while he paused, and then, breaking silence, gradually lifted up his voice ’till it was extended to a pretty high pitch, though I think scarce high enough for so large an auditory. After he had proceeded in his discourse about a quarter of an hour, a confused noise was heard near the front great door; upon turning my head, I saw four long-bearded men, two of which carried a ladder on their shoulders, and after them followed two more with large gilt dishes in their hands, full of linen, spices, &c. These (as I imagined) were the representatives of Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea. On a signal given from the pulpit, they advanced towards the steps of the scaffold. But upon their very first attempting to mount it, at the watchful centurion’s nod, the observant soldiers made a pass at them, and presented the points of their javelins directly to their breasts. They are repulsed. Upon this a letter from Pilate is produced. The centurion reads it, shakes his head, and with looks that bespoke a forced compliance, beckons to the centinels to withdraw their arms. Leave being thus obtained, they ascend; and having paid their homage, by kneeling first to the image on the cross, and then to the virgin Mary, they retired to the back of the stage. Still the preacher continued declaiming, or rather (as was said) explaining the mournful scene. Magdalen persists in wringing her hands, and variously expressing her personated sorrow; whilst John (seemingly regardless of all besides) stood gazing on the crucified figure. By this time it was near three o’clock, and therefore proper for the scene to begin to close. The ladders are ascended, the superscription and crown of thorns taken off, long white rollers put round the arms of the image, and then the nails knocked out which fastened the hands and feet. Here Mary Magdalen looks most languishing, and John, if possible, stands more thunder-struck than before.—The orator lifts up his voice, and almost all the hearers expressed concern by weeping, beating their breasts, and smiting their cheeks.—At length the body is gently let down. Magdalen eyes it, and, gradually rising, receives the feet into her wide-spread handkerchief; whilst John (who hitherto stood motionless like a statue) as the body came nearer the ground, with an eagerness that bespoke the intense affection of a sympathizing friend, runs towards the cross, seizes the upper part of it into his clasping arms, and, with his disguised fellow-mourner, helps to bear it away. And here the play should end, was I not afraid you would be angry with me, if I did not give you an account of the last act, by telling you what became of the corpse after it was taken down. Great preparations were made for its interment. It was wrapped in linen and spices, &c. and being laid upon a bier richly hung, was afterwards carried round the church-yard in grand procession. The image of the virgin Mary was chief mourner, and John and Magdalen, with a whole troop of friars with wax-tapers in their hands, followed after. Determined to see the whole, I waited its return, and in about a quarter of an hour the corps was brought in, and deposited in an open sepulchre prepared for the purpose; but not before a priest, accompanied by several of the same order in splendid vestments, had perfumed it with incense, sung to and kneeled before it. John and Magdalen attended the obsequies; but the image of the virgin Mary was carried away and placed upon the front of the stage, in order to be kissed, adored, and worshipped by the people.—This I saw them do with the utmost eagerness and reverence. And thus ended this Good Friday’s tragi-comical, superstitious, idolatrous farce. A farce, which whilst I saw, as well as now whilst I am describing it, excited in me an high indignation.—Surely, thought I, whilst attending on such a scene of mock devotion, if ever, now is the dear Lord Jesus crucified afresh; and I could then, and even now, think of no other plea for the poor beguiled devotees, than that which suffering innocence put up himself for his enemies, when actually hanging upon the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” There was but one thing wanting to raise one’s resentment to the highest pitch, and that was, for one of the soldiers to have pierced the side of the image upon the cross. This in all probability you have heard hath actually been done in other places, and with a little more art, might, I think, have been performed here. Doubtless it would have afforded the preacher as good, if not a better opportunity of working upon the passions of his auditory, than the taking down the superscription and crown of thorns, and wiping the head with a blooded cloth, and afterwards exposing it to the view of the people; all which I saw done before the body was let down.—But alas! my dear friend, how mean is that eloquence, and how entirely destitute of the demonstration of the spirit, and of a divine power, must that oratory necessarily be, that stands in need of such a train of superstitious pageantry to render it impressive!—Think you, my dear friend, that the apostle Paul used or needed any such artifices to excite the passions of the people of Galatia, amongst whom, as he himself informs us, “Jesus Christ was crucified, and evidently set forth?”—But thus it is, and thus it will be, when simplicity and spirituality are banished from our religious offices, and artifice and idolatry seated in their room.—I am well aware that the Romanists deny the charge of idolatry; but after having seen what I have seen this day, as well as at sundry other times since my arrival here, I cannot help thinking but a person must be capable of making more than metaphysical distinctions, and deal in very abstract ideas indeed, fairly to evade the charge.—If weighed in the balance of the sanctuary, I am positive the scale must turn on the protestant side.—But such a balance these poor people are not permitted to make use of! Doth not your heart bleed for them? Mine doth I am sure, and I believe would do so more and more, was I to stay longer, and see what they call their Hallelujah, and grand devotions on Easter-day.—But that scene is denied me.—The wind is fair, and I must away.—Follow me with your prayers, and believe me to be, my dear friend,

Yours most affectionately, in our common Redeemer,

G. W.

LETTER MXLII.

To Mrs. D――.

On board the Success, May 10, 1754.

My dear sister in Christ,

IT really hath given me much concern since I have been on the mighty waters, that it was not in my power to write to you more frequently when on shore. I therefore send you a few lines from the great deep, which I hope will find you magnifying the Lord, and rejoicing in God your Saviour. For his great name’s sake, I am once more going to Georgia, and after a short tour through some parts of America, I hope to see my native country, and begin to begin to ramble after poor sinners again. In our way we touched at Lisbon, which I hope hath been blessed to me, so far as to make me prize protestant liberty and simplicity more than ever. Fain would I be one of Christ’s bees, and learn to extract honey from every flower. But alas! I am a drone, and deserve to be stung out of God’s hive. But he is gracious and long suffering. O eternity! How do I long to praise my God there! We are within a few hundred miles of our earthly, but when I shall arrive at my heavenly port God only knows. Strange! that I should be kept out at sea so long. I am now near forty. Father, thy will be done! Only vouchsafe to employ me, and then――I can no more. The Redeemer is pleased to fill my soul. Help me to cry Grace! Grace! and believe me to be,

Your most assured friend, and ready servant, for Christ’s sake,

G. W.

LETTER MXLIII.

To Mrs. S――.

On board the Success, May 12, 1754.

Dear Mrs. S――,

I FULLY purposed to have written to you from Lisbon, but was so taken up in seeing the ecclesiastical curiosities of the place, and was so suddenly called away, that rendered it impracticable.—However, that I may not be disappointed again, I sit down to write you a few lines, though about eight hundred miles off shore. May they find you as to spirituals, in the same situation as is our ship in a natural respect, gently, sweetly gliding towards your heavenly harbour, under a pleasant gale of divine influence. Or,

If rough and stormy be your way,