devil tells you, "it is time to repent when you are a man." You may well say, it is the devil that tells you so: Such a suggestion cannot come from God. Behold, now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation! Jesus will even now accept you, vile as you are, and ungrateful as you have been: if you feel your misery, and fly to him for succour, he will
accept you. Every conviction cries, "Come, Richard, come to me, that thou mayest have rest." Let me advise you, as old Eli advised young Samuel: say, "Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth."
I am your sincere friend, G. W.
LETTER CCCXXXII. To John F, an Orphan.
On board the Mary and Ann, July 27, 1741.
Dear John,
I Willingly fulfil your request, and sit down to write you a line or two. I am glad you begin to see the wickedness of your own heart. You cannot conceive what a mystery of iniquity is hid therein. The more you see it, the more you will find the want of a saviour, and adore God for giving his dear Son to die for sinners. There was once a young man, named John, who leaned on the Saviour's bosom, and was his particular favourite. What if you should be thus highly honoured. Would it not be an amazing instance of love and condescension? And what doth the Saviour do less, for all that feel themselves poor, lost, undone sinners? Nay, does he not do for them infinitely more? Yes, he does. Come to him, therefore, by faith, and he shall embrace you in the arms of his mercy, clothe you with his righteousness, sanctify you by his spirit, guide you by his counsel, and after death receive you up into glory. Look up, then, and never rest till you have it. Conviction is not conversion. But you know who has promised not to quench the smoaking flax, or break the bruised reed. That this promise may be fulfilled in your soul, is the hearty prayer of
Your sincere friend,
G. W.
