LETTER DXLVII.
To Mr. D—— T——.
Gloucester, Feb. 9, 1744.
My dear Friend,
WHO knows what a day may bring forth? Last night I was called to sacrifice my Isaac; I mean to bury my only child and son about four months old. Many things occurred to make me believe he was not only to be continued to me, but to be a preacher of the everlasting gospel. Pleased with the thought, and ambitious of having a son of my own, so divinely employed, satan was permitted to give me some wrong impressions, whereby, as I now find, I misapplied several texts of scripture. Upon these grounds I made no scruple of declaring, “that I should have a son, and that his name was to be John.” I mentioned the very time of his birth, and fondly hoped, that he was to be great in the sight of the Lord. Every thing happened according to the predictions, and my wife having had several narrow escapes while pregnant, especially by her falling from a high horse, and my driving her into a deep ditch in a one-horse chaise a little before the time of her lying-in, and from which we received little or no hurt, confirmed me in my expectation, that God would grant me my heart’s desire. I would observe to you, that the child was even born in a room, which the master of the house had prepared as a prison for his wife for coming to hear me. With joy would she often look upon the bars and staples and chains which were fixed in order to keep her in. About a week after his birth, I publickly baptized him in the Tabernacle, and in the company of thousands solemnly gave him up to that God, who gave him to me. A hymn, too fondly composed by an aged widow, as suitable to the occasion, was sung, and all went away big with hopes of the child’s being hereafter to be employed in the work of God; but how soon are all their fond, and as the event hath proved, their ill-grounded expectations blasted, as well as mine. House-keeping being expensive in London, I thought best to send both parent and child to Abergavenny, where my wife had a little house of my own, the furniture of which, as I thought of soon embarking for Georgia, I had partly sold, and partly given away. In their journey thither, they stopped at Gloucester at the Bell-Inn, which my brother now keeps, and in which I was born. There, my beloved was cut off with a stroke. Upon my coming here, without knowing what had happened, I enquired concerning the welfare of parent and child; and by the answer, found that the flower was cut down. I immediately called all to join in prayer, in which I blessed the Father of mercies for giving me a son, continuing it to me so long, and taking it from me so soon. All joined in desiring that I would decline preaching ’till the child was buried; but I remembered a saying of good Mr. Henry, “that weeping must not hinder sowing,” and therefore preached twice the next day, and also the day following; on the evening of which, just as I was closing my sermon, the bell struck out for the funeral. At first, I must acknowledge, it gave nature a little shake, but looking up I recovered strength, and then concluded with saying, that this text on which I had been preaching, namely, “all things worked together for good to them that love God,” made me as willing to go out to my son’s funeral, as to hear of his birth. Our parting from him was solemn. We kneeled down, prayed, and shed many tears, but I hope tears of resignation: And then, as he died in the house wherein I was born, he was taken and laid in the church where I was baptized, first communicated, and first preached. All this you may easily guess threw me into very solemn and deep reflection, and I hope deep humiliation; but I was comforted from that passage in the book of Kings, where is recorded the death of the Shunamite’s child, which the Prophet said, “The Lord had hid from him;” and the woman’s answer likewise to the Prophet when he asked, “Is it well with thee? Is it well with thy husband? Is it well with thy child?” And she answered, “It is well.” This gave me no small satisfaction. I immediately preached upon the text the day following at Gloucester, and then hastened up to London, preached upon the same there; and though disappointed of a living preacher by the death of my son; yet I hope what happened before his birth, and since at his death, hath taught me such lessons, as, if duly improved, may render his mistaken parent more cautious, more sober-minded, more experienced in satan’s devices, and consequently more useful in his future labours to the church of God. Thus, “out of the eater comes forth meat, and out of the strong comes forth sweetness.” Not doubting but our future life will be one continued explanation of this blessed riddle, I commend myself and you to the unerring guidance of God’s word and spirit, and am
Yours, &c.
G. W.
The HYMN mentioned in the foregoing Letter.
I.
POOR helpless babe! dear little child!
John be thy name, thy nature mild;
Great may’st thou be in Jesu’s sight,
A babe in whom he takes delight.
II.
Be thou made holy from the womb,
By him who sav’d thee from the ¹tomb:
In Jesu’s arms still may’st thou rest,
While sucking at thy mother’s breast.
III.
Blest be the parents with the son!
Blest be the God that gave you one!
We’ll magnify the Lord with you!
Share in your joy, we’re sure we do.
IV.
O may you both be taught of God,
To teach this Child his Saviour’s blood:
That thousands in your bliss may share,
In answer to united pray’r.
V.
And may the Lamb, your Master, grant
This grace, that you may never want
A child to stand before his face,
To preach his Love, his Sov’reign Grace!
LETTER DXLVIII.
To Mr. G. H——.
London, Feb. 24, 1744.
My dear dear Mr. H——,
MULTIPLICITY of urgent affairs has kept me from answering your kind letter sooner. Blessed be God for giving you such a prosperous journey. I am not sorry that some, after their much joy, have been brought down and plunged into much misery. It is no more than might be expected. Stolen sweets prepare for bitter tears. On Monday morning I shall know what the rioters intend doing. There has been dreadful work near Birmingham, but satan will be overthrown. We had a glorious fast on Monday, and collected above sixty pounds for our poor suffering brethren. We have had two solemn funerals. I hope the work prospers in your hands. Our lawyer hath sent me word, that the rioters stand trial.—I think, God willing, to be in Gloucestershire by Monday sev’nnight. The Lord be with you. I salute all, and am, my dear Mr. H——,
Your most affectionate, though unworthy friend and ready servant,
G. W.
Feb. 26.
P. S. Since I wrote the above, I have consulted with friends, and find it best to come through Gloucester to Abergavenny.—God willing, I hope to preach with you on Tuesday between seven and eight at night. Be pleased immediately on the receipt of this to send word to brother Adams to meet me without fail at Gloucester on Tuesday, to confer about our assize affair. I heard yesterday from Wales. I bought a second-hand suit of curtains to-day, so you need not send any thing to Abergavenny. “Poor, yet making others rich,” shall be my motto still.
LETTER DXLIX.
London, March 12, 1744.
My dear Friend,
THIS leaves me just returned from Gloucester assizes, where it has pleased the great Judge of quick and dead to give us the victory over the Hampton rioters. You remember I informed you, that I thought we should be obliged to appeal unto Cæsar. A solemn day of fasting and humiliation was kept on that account; and accordingly last term we lodged an information against them in the King’s-Bench. Matters of fact being proved by a variety of evidence, and the defendants making no reply, the rule was made absolute, and an information filed against them. To this they pleaded Not guilty, and therefore, according to the method of the Crown-office, the cause was referred to the assizes held in Gloucester the third instant. Our council opened the cause by informing the court, that rioters were not to be reformers, and that his Majesty had no where put the reins of government into the hands of mobbers, nor made them either judge or jury. One of them in particular, the Recorder of Oxford, with great gravity, reminded the gentlemen on the jury of the advice of Gamaliel, “Refrain from these men and let them alone, for if this council, or this work be of man, it will come to nought; but if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it, least haply ye be found even to fight against God.” Our witnesses were then called. Mr. Adams and four more, three of which were not reputed Methodists, so clearly proved both the riot and the facts, that the judge was of opinion, there needed no other evidence. The council for the defendants then rose up, and displayed a good deal of oratory, and I think said all that could be said to mend a bad matter. One urged, “that we were enthusiasts, and our principles and practices had such a tendency to infect and hurt the people, that it was right, in his opinion, for any private person to stand up and put a stop to us; and whoever did so, was a friend to his country.” He strove to influence the jury, by telling them, “That if a verdict was given against the defendants, it would cost them two hundred pounds; that the defendants rioting was not premeditated, but that coming to hear Mr. A——, and being offended at his doctrine, a sudden quarrel arose, and thereby the unhappy men were led into the present fray, which he could have wished had not happened; but however, it did not amount to a riot, but only an assault.” Their other council informed the jury, “That they would undertake to prove, that the Methodists began the tumult first.” He was pleased to mention me by name, and acquainted the court, “That Mr. Whitefield had been travelling from common to common, making the people cry, and then picking their pockets under pretence of collecting money for the colony of Georgia, and knowing that Gloucestershire was a populous county, he at last came there; that he had now several curates, of which Mr. Adams was one, who in his preaching had found fault with the proceedings of the clergy, and had said, that if the people went to hear them, they would be damned.” He added, that “there had lately been such mobbing in Staffordshire, that a regiment of soldiers was sent down to suppress them; insinuating, that the Methodists were the authors; that we had now another cause of a like nature depending in Wiltshire, and that we were not of that mild pacific spirit, as we pretended to be.” This, and much more to the same purpose, though foreign to the matter in hand, pleased many of the auditors, who expressed their satisfaction, in hearing the Methodists in general, and me in particular, thus lashed, by frequent laughing. But our Lord not only kept me quite easy, but enabled me to rejoice in being thus honoured for his great Name’s sake. To prove what the defendants council had insinuated, they called up a young man, who was a brother to one of the defendants, and one of the mob. He swore point blank, “That Mr. Adams said, if people went to church, they would be damned, but if they would come to him, he would carry them to Jesus Christ.” He swore also, “that the brook into which Mr. A—— was thrown, was no deeper than half up his legs.” He said first, that there were but about ten of them that came to the house of Mr. A——; and then he swore, that there were about threescore. He said, there was a bell, and that one of the defendants did ask Mr. A—— to come off the stairs, but that none of them went up to him: upon which Mr. A—— willingly obeyed, went with them briskly along the street, and as he would have represented it, put himself into the skin-pit and brook, and so came out again. He said also some other things; but through the whole, his evidence appeared so flagrantly false, that one of the council said, “It was enough to make his hair stand ♦on end.” The judge himself wished, “That the man had so much religion as to fear an oath.” So he went down in disgrace. Their second evidence was an aged woman, mother of one of the defendants; she swore, “That her son did go up stairs to Mr. A——, and that Mr. A—— tore her son’s coat;” but she talked so fast, and her evidence was so palpably false, that she was sent away in as much disgrace as the other. Their third and last evidence, was father to one who was in the mob, tho’ not one of the defendants. The chief he had to say was, “That when Mr. A—— was coming from the brook, he met him and said, Brother, how do you do? Upon which he answer’d, that he had received no damage, but had been in the brook and came out again.” So that all their evidences, however contrary one to another, yet corroborated ours, and proved the riot out of their own mouths. The book was then given to a justice of the peace, who had formerly taken up Mr. C—— for preaching near Stroud, and had lately given many signal proofs that he was no friend to the Methodists. But he intending to speak only about their characters, and the council and judge looking upon that as quite impertinent to the matter in hand, he was not admitted as an evidence. Upon this, his Lordship with great candor and impartiality summed up the evidence, and told the jury, “That he thought they should bring all the defendants in Guilty; for our evidences had sufficiently proved the whole of the information, and also, that the riot was premeditated.”—He said, “That, in his opinion, the chief of the defendants evidence was incredible; and, that supposing the Methodists were heterodox, (as perhaps they might be) it belonged to the ecclesiastical government to call them to an account; that they were subjects, and rioters were not to be their reformers.” He also reminded them “of the dreadful consequences of rioting at any time, much more at such a critical time as this; that rioting was the forerunner of, and might end in rebellion; that it was felony without benefit of clergy, to pull down a Meeting-house; and for all as he knew, it was high treason to pull down even a bawdy-house.—That this information also came from the King’s-Bench; that his Majesty’s justices there, thought they had sufficient reason to grant it; that the matters contained in it had been evidently proved before them; and consequently they should bring in all the defendants guilty.” Upon this the jury were desired to consider of their verdict, and for a while there seemed to be some little demur among them. His Lordship perceiving the cause of it, immediately informed them, “they had nothing to do with the damages, (that was to be referred to the King’s-Bench) they were only to consider, whether the defendants were guilty or not.” Whereupon in a few minutes they gave a verdict for the prosecutors, and brought in all the defendants guilty of the whole information lodged against them. I then retired to my lodgings, kneeled down, and with my friends gave thanks to our all-conquering Emmanuel. Afterwards I went to the inn, prayed and returned thanks with the witnesses, exhorted them to behave with meekness and humility to their adversaries; and after they had taken proper refreshment, I sent them home rejoicing. In the evening I preached on these words of the Psalmist, “By this I know that thou favourest me, since thou hast not suffered mine enemy to triumph over me.” God was pleased to enlarge my heart much. I was very happy with my friends afterwards, and the next morning set out for London, where we had a blessed thanksgiving season, and from whence I take the first opportunity of sending you these particulars.
I remain, Sir, your very affectionate friend,
G. W.
LETTER DL.
To Mrs. D——.
London, March 15, 1744.
Dear Madam,
SHALL I promise and not perform? God forbid! This comes in answer to your commands, and to inform you, that through him who has the hearts of all men in his hands, we came off more than conquerors, respecting our Gloucester trial. The rioters were brought in guilty, and I suppose will have an execution issued out against them next Term. I hear they are hugely alarmed; but they know not that we intend to let them see what we could do, and then to forgive them. This troublesome affair being now over, I must prepare for my intended voyage. They tell me there is a ship going from Portsmouth. God willing, I purpose to take my passage in it, and though calls come to me from every quarter, yet I must; once more visit my dear family in America. Some well-meaning people threaten me with I know not what, if I embark at this time; but my absence hath been so long and unexpected, that come what will, I am determined to prosecute my intended voyage; and therefore whether we meet any more in the flesh, I trust we shall meet in the world of spirits, where parting, weeping, and breaking of hearts will no more disturb and try the affections of, dear Madam,
Yours in the dear Emmanuel,
G. W.
LETTER DLI.
To the Same.
Plymouth, June 26, 1744.
My dear Friend,
YOU see by this where I am. Doubtless you’ll wonder at the quick transition from Portsmouth to Plymouth. To the former I intended going when I wrote last; but just before I took leave of the dear tabernacle people, a message was sent to me, that the captain in which I was to sail from thence, would not take me for fear of spoiling his sailors. Some interpreted this as a call from providence not to embark at this time; but I enjoined them silence ’till I had taken my leave, and then, hearing of a mast-ship that was going under convoy from Plymouth, I hastened thither, and have taken a passage in the Wilmington, Capt. Dalby, bound to Piscataway, in New-England. My first reception here was a little unpromising. A report being spread that I was come, a great number of people assembled upon the Hoe, (a large green for walks and diversions) and somebody brought out a bear and a drum; but I did not come ’till the following evening, when, under pretence of a hue-and-cry, several broke into the room where I lodged at the inn, and disturbed me very much. I then betook myself to private lodgings, and being gone to rest, after preaching to a large congregation, and visiting the French prisoners, the good woman of the house came and told me, that a well-dressed gentleman desired to speak with me. Imagining that it was some Nicodemite, I desired he might be brought up. He came and sat down by my bedside, told me he was a lieutenant of a man of war, congratulated me on the success of my ministry, and expressed himself much concerned for being detained from hearing me. He then asked me, if I knew him. I answered, no. He replied, his name was Cadogan. I rejoined, that I had seen one Mr. Cadogan, who was formerly an officer at Georgia, about a fortnight ago at Bristol. Upon this, he immediately rose up, uttering the most abusive language, calling me dog, rogue, villain, &c. and beat me most unmercifully with his gold-headed cane. As you know I have not much natural courage, guess how surprized I was; being apprehensive that he intended to shoot or stab me, I underwent all the fears of a sudden violent death. But, as it providentially happened, my hostess and her daughter hearing me cry murder, rushed into the room and seized him by the collar; however, he immediately disengaged himself from them, and repeated his blows upon me. The cry of murder was repeated also, which putting him into some terror, he made towards the chamber-door, from whence the good woman pushed him down stairs. About the bottom of which, a second cry’d out, “Take courage, I am ready to help you;” accordingly, whilst the other was escaping, he rushed up, and finding one of the women coming down, took her by the heels and threw her upon the stairs, by which her back was almost broken. By this time the neighbourhood was alarmed. Unwilling to add to it, I desired the doors might be shut, and so betook myself to rest, not without reflecting, how indispensibly necessary it was for christians and christian ministers to be always upon their guard, and with what great propriety we are taught to pray in our excellent Litany, “from sudden,” that is, “from violent and unprepared death, good Lord deliver us.” That this may be our happy lot, is the hearty prayer of, dear Madam,
Yours, &c.
G. W.
LETTER DLII.
To the Same.
Plymouth, July 4, 1744.
SINCE my last, I have had some particular informations about the late odd adventure. It seems, that four gentlemen came to the house of one of my particular friends, kindly enquiring after me, and desired to know where I lodged, that they might come and pay their respects. He directed them. Soon afterwards I received a letter, informing me that the writer was a nephew to Mr. S——, an eminent attorney at New-York; that he had the pleasure of supping with me at his uncle’s house, and desired my company to sup with him and a few more friends at a tavern. I sent him word, that it was not customary for me to sup out at taverns, but should be glad of his company, out of respect to his uncle, to eat a morsel with him at my lodgings. He came; we supped; and I observed that he frequently looked around him, and seemed very absent; but having no suspicion, I continued in conversation with him and my other friends, ’till we parted. This, I now find, was to have been the assassin; and being interrogated by his other companions on his return to the tavern about what he had done, he answered, that being used so civilly, he had not the heart to touch me. Upon which, as I am informed, the person who assaulted me laid a wager of ten guineas that he would do my business for me. Some say, that they took his sword from him, which I suppose they did, for I only saw and felt the weight of his cane. The next morning, I was to expound at a private house, and then to set out for Biddeford. Some urged me to stay and prosecute; but being better employed, I went on my intended journey, was greatly blessed in preaching the everlasting gospel, and upon my return was well paid for what I had suffered: curiosity having led perhaps two thousand more than ordinary to see and hear a man, that had like to have been murdered in his bed. Thus all things tend to the furtherance of the gospel, and work together for good to those that love God.
Thus satan thwarts, and men object,
And yet the thing they thwart, effect.
Leaving you to add an Hallelujah, I subscribe myself,
Ever, ever yours,
G. W.
LETTER DLIII.
To Mr. S——.
Plymouth, July 21, 1744.
I Expected a line from you this morning; but I suppose you think we are gone. This day came in a privateer, which saw the Brest Squadron that has pursued two of our men of war, the Dreadnought and Frederick; so that had we sailed, we should in all probability have been carried into France. We are now to go under convoy of the grand fleet; many letters from our friends at Portsmouth inform us, that they are to sail on Sunday; but the wind hath not been very favourable, so we may yet stay some days longer. I never was so easy in this respect before. In one or two things I find my will reluctant; but Jesus will bring all things in subjection to him. I have been greatly refreshed this evening in preaching his blood. The congregations grow visibly every day. You will see the letter from Kingsbridge.—Last night many from the Dock came and guarded me home, being apprehensive there was a design against me. Without my knowledge, they insulted a man who intended to hurt me, for which I am sorry. We had a wonderful good time last night. O help me to praise my Saviour! My health is better. I hope you got to London well. Whether we sail or not, expect to hear again from dear, dear J——,
Ever, ever yours, &c.
G. W.
Open a door, which earth and hell
May strive to shut, but strive in vain;
Let thy word richly with them dwell,
And let their gracious fruit remain!
LETTER DLIV.
To Mr. T——.
Plymouth, July 26, 1744.
My dear Friend,
ACCEPT some few hasty lines from one, who, properly speaking, may at present be stiled a prisoner at large. I am still here waiting for the promised convoy, and as I humbly hope, really waiting for the convoy of death to carry me to Abraham’s bosom. Could you think it? I have been preaching a confirmation sermon. Do you ask me where? In a Quaker’s field. As I saw thousands flocked to the church to have the Bishop’s hands imposed upon them, I thought it not improper to let them have a word of exhortation suitable to the occasion. I have also made an elopement to Kingsbridge, where I preached to many thousands a few days ago. It was really a most solemn occasion. A calling, inviting, persuasive gift was vouchsafed me. The hearts of the auditory seemed to be bowed as the heart of one man. Many tears were shed; but I was obliged to ride off as soon as my discourse was ended, and to return hither in the night. But blessed be God, our night was as it were turned into day. I was accompanied by several old and new converts, and we conversed in some degree, as became persons who ought to be employed every hour and every moment in trimming their lamps to be ready for the midnight cry, “Behold the bridegroom cometh!” As I am at present in this unsettled state, continually engaged in preaching, and in talking privately with many, very many awakened souls, you and my other friends must be content with receiving short, but I hope truly loving letters, from
Yours, &c.
G. W.
LETTER DLV.
To Mr. J—— S——.
Plymouth, July 27, 1744.
MATTERS go on better and better here. I begin to think myself in London. We have our regular morning meetings; and our Lord is pleased to grace them with his presence. We are looking out for a place proper for a society, and to expound in. People come daily to me, especially from the Dock, under convictions. Some, I believe, have really closed with Christ; and here are several aged persons perfectly made young again. We are just now entered upon our singing hours.—The souls come forward greatly in many respects, and friends are more and more hearty. Fresh news from Kingsbridge of souls being awakened; but I am kept close prisoner on account of the convoy. Yesterday morning we were called up at the Dock, very early, by a false alarm that our convoy was come. Many poor souls much lamented it. We hastened hither, and I expounded upon our Lord’s bidding his disciples to watch. This waiting is much blessed to me. I am kept passive; notwithstanding, satan attempts to disturb me, but Jesus refreshes me, and overcomes him. I need not bid you to pray for me. Brother C—— must come into these parts soon.
Yours, &c.
G. W.
LETTER DLVI.
To the Same.
Plymouth, July 29, 1744.
OUR Lord has been giving us blessings in drops, but now he is sending them in showers. This morning we have had a most precious meeting. Perhaps more good hath been done by that one sermon, than by all I have preached before. When God will work, who shall hinder? The wind is yet against us. Our Lord detains me here for wise reasons. Some persons, formerly prejudiced against me, have offered to give me a piece of ground surrounded with walls, for a society room. I believe that one will be built soon. Brother C—— must stay in the West some time. The Lord Jesus blesses me with health, and a sweet preaching spirit. O grace, grace! I will join with thee in praising it. Adieu, my friend, I am yours, in the bonds of eternal love, whilst
G. W.
LETTER DLVII.
To the Same.
Plymouth, August 3, 1744.
My dear, dear Friend,
IT is past ten, or I would write you a long letter. Our convoy is come, and perhaps we may sail to-morrow. It is delightful to be here. We come from Dock in the evenings, in great companies, singing and praising God. Our parting there has been more awful than words can express. I shall have sailed before you can answer this.
I.
Eternal Jesus, bless thy word,
Be mindful of thy child;
Behold thy servant; be thou, Lord,
His helmet, sword, and shield.
II.
Close by thy side him ever keep;
Still hold him in thy hand,
Till he and all thy ransom’d sheep,
Shall rest in their own land.
III.
The preachers and the people there,
Shall thee in fulness see;
Shall keep the long sabbatic year,
The feast of jubilee.
If we never meet again in this suffering world, God grant that we may ere long see each other in the heavenly paradise, where all tears shall be wiped from our eyes, and death, sin, and sorrow we shall know no more. Farewel.
Ever, ever yours,
G. W.
LETTER DLVIII.
To Mr. E——.
Plymouth, August 4, 1744.
My very dear Brother E——,
I Thank you for your last kind and loving letter, and as a token of my unfeigned love to you, I send you these few lines by way of answer, before I embark. Our convoy is now come, and in all probability we shall sail this day or tomorrow. I need not stir up my dear brother, and other dear souls with you, to pray for me and mine. I am quite easy about trust, having put all things into the hands of the Lord Jesus, upon whose shoulders the government of all is placed. He will, he does order all things well: I bless him for it, and for what he has, and is doing among the soldiers. I desire you all to bless him for what he is doing in these parts; for preaching at the Dock is now like preaching at the tabernacle. It would delight your dear soul, my brother, to be a spectator of the people’s seriousness. Last night we had a most awful and solemn parting; many wept sorely. After sermon we walked pleasantly over the fields, blessing and praising God. Our morning lectures are very delightful. O the thousands that flock to the preaching of Christ’s gospel! If brother C—— is in London, pray salute him in my name, and all the dear dear brethren and sisters, wishing you all thousands and millions of blessings, and earnestly intreating an interest in your prayers for me the chief of sinners. I subscribe myself, my dear brother E——,
Yours most affectionately in the most adorable Redeemer,
G. W.
Postscript. I must tell you one thing more. There is a ferry over to Plymouth; and the ferrymen, which were like Levi the publican at the receipt of custom, are now so much my friends, that they will take nothing of the multitude that come to hear me preach, saying, “God forbid that we should sell the word of God.” O! the hearts of all men are in the hand of the Lord!
LETTER DLIX.
To Mr. ——.
On board the Wilmington, Oct. 20, 1744.
My dear Friend,
YOU know in what a poor state of health I was, when I embarked. The length, and seeming tediousness of the voyage, hath occasioned no small addition to the violent pain in my side; however, blessed be God, in a week or two after we sailed, we began to have a church in our ship. Two serious New-England friends finding how I was served at Portsmouth, came from thence to Plymouth in order to bear me company. We had regular public prayer morning and evening, frequent communion, and days of humiliation and fasting. Being time of war, and sailing out with near 150 ships, we had several convoys. Their taking leave of each other at their several appointed places, was striking: but ours was ordered to convoy us all the way. We were soon, and have been often alarmed. Once with the sight of a Dutch fleet, whom we took for an enemy; and again at the sight of Admiral Balchen, who rode by us receiving the obeisance of the surrounding ships, as though he was Lord of the whole ocean. It was full six weeks ere we reached the Western Islands, off which it being calm weather, we continued floating for some days; during which interval we were like to suffer much damage. The wind having brisked up a little, and orders being given for tacking about, one of the ships, I know not by what accident, having missed her stays, in turning, came directly upon us; I happened at that time to be singing a hymn upon deck with my little family, and thinking it best to keep there to receive the shock, I had the opportunity of seeing what passed. The ship struck her mainsail into our bowsprit, but our ship being of a large, and theirs of a smaller size, our hull received but little damage, whilst theirs received such a blow, that when disentangled from us, they were immediately apprehensive of sinking. As they again passed by us, when we expected another touch, their cries and groans were awful. O how eagerly did they cry for some signal to be given! It was done. A little after that, we came up with the convoy, and our captain informed them of what had happened. The answer was, “This is your praying, and be damned to ye.” With many expressions of the like nature. This, I must own, shocked me more than the striking of the ships. I called my friends together, and broke out into these words in prayer: “God of the sea and God of the dry land! This is a night of rebuke and blasphemy: shew thyself, O God, and take us under thy own immediate protection; be thou our convoy, and make a difference between those that fear thee and those that fear thee not!” The disabled ship was taken into tow. Next morning they were saluted in like manner as the night before, and orders were given us to follow our convoy into Fial; but on a sudden a violent euroclydon arose, which not only prevented our going into Fial, but battered and drove away our convoy, so that we saw him no more all the voyage. For my own part, I thought it no loss; we sailed very comfortably on, ’till we were again alarmed with the sight of two ships, making up to us with all the sail they could well croud, and which our captain took to be enemies. The preparations for an engagement, to me, who you know am naturally a coward, were formidable. Guns mounting, chains put about the masts, every thing taken out of the great cabin, hammocks put about the sides of the ship, and all, except myself, seemed ready for fire and smoke. My wife, after having dressed herself to prepare for all events, set about making cartridges, whilst the husband wanted to go into the holes of the ship, hearing that was the chaplain’s usual place. I went, but not liking my situation, and being desired by one of my New-England friends to say something to animate the men, I crept up on deck, and for the first time of my life beat up to arms by a warm exhortation. The men seemed pleased, the apprehended enemy approached, but upon nearer view we found them not only to be friends, but the two masts ships that were going with us under the same convoy. This pleased us all. The captain taking this opportunity to clean the cabin, said, “After all, this is the best fighting:” with which you may be sure I readily concurred, praying, and believing at the same time, that all our various conflicts with spiritual enemies might, and would under the conduct of the all-conquering captain of our salvation, at last terminate in a thorough cleansing, and an eternal purification of the defiled cabin of our hearts. Committing you to his almighty guidance and protection, I subscribe myself,
Yours, &c.
G. W.