[From Mr. Jofeph Pilmoor, to the Rev. Mr. Wesley.]

Reverend Sir,

BY

Philadelphia, O&. 31, 1769.

Y the bleffing of God we are fafe arrived here, after a tedious paffage of nine weeks.

We were not a little furprised to find Capt. Webb in town, and a Society of about a hundred Members, who defire to be in close connection with you. This is the Lord's doing and it is marvellous in our eyes.

I have preached feveral times, and the people flock to hear in multitudes. Sunday night I went out upon the common. I had the flage appointed for the horse-race, for my pulpit, and I think between four and five thousand hcarers, who heard with attention ftill as night. Blessed be God for Field-preaching! When I began to talk of preaching at five o'clock in the morning, the people thought it would not anfwer in America: however I refolved to try, and had a very good congregation.

Here feems to be a great and effectual door opening in this country, and I hope many fouls will be gathered in. The people in general like to hear the Word, and feem to have fome ideas of Salvation by Grace. They feem to fet light to Opinions that which is the most prevalent is, Universal Sal

fore the Sa

wifit Mr.

vation! And if this be true, then perhaps, (as Count Zinzendorf obferved) we may "See the devil falling viour, and kiffing his feet!" I have been Stringer, who is very well. He bears a noble teflimony for our bleffed Jefus: and I hope God does blefs him.

When I parted with you at Leeds, I found it very hard work. I have reafon to blefs God, that ever I faw your face. And though I am well nigh four thousand miles from

you,

Even

you, I have an inward fellowship with your fpirit. while I am writing, my heart flows with love to you and all our dear, dear friends at home. In a little time we fhall all meet in our Father's kingdom,

"Where all the ftorms of life are o'er,

And pain and parting is no more."

This, Rev. and dear Sir, is, and fhall be, the earnest prayer of your unworthy Son in the Gospel,

But not in heaven alone,

Doft thou thy love difplay; Streaming from thy propitious throne, On man descends its ray.

In gales, that gently breathe,
And fan the mid-day's beam;

In clouds that on the vales beneath,
In copious bleffings ftream.

In meads, in groves, in hills,
With blooming beauty dreft;
In cryftal fprings, in purling rills,
Thy bounty ftands confeft.

But who fhall tune the lay,

To that ftupendous Grace,

That clothed the Prince of Life in clay, To fave our dying race?

Freely his blood he fpilt,

That we might be forgiven:

His merits cancel all our guilt,

And feal our peace with heaven.

Crown! crown, ye faints on high,
These wonders with your praise;
While we, refponsive to the sky,
Our feebler anthems raife.

When Morn restores the light,

This theme fhall wake my tongue;

And the returning fhades of night,
Shall liften to my fong.

Divine INSTRUCTIONS given to a loofe Ode of HORACE.

To PHILETUS.

IF foreign Princes difagree,

And finking empires yield to Fate,

If French or Roman policy

Are sowing factions in the State;

Tell me, my dear Philetus do,

What are all these to me and you?

Youth, and health, and strength are flying,

Heaven's not easy to be won;

Age is but a living-dying,

Age and death are haftening on;
Manage therefore well to-day,
Manage wifely while you may.

When age has wrinkled all your skin,
Covered with fnow your palfied head:
And fixed the dreadful power of fin,
Though all its active joys are fled;
Will you, my friend, repent at laft?-
The hour of grace may then be past.

The Almighty shines not always bright,
With the warm beams of pard'ning love;
And they, who profferéd mercy flight,

Shall his dark ftorms of vengeance prove;
Accept him in your early prime,
And make the beft of fleeting Time.

Why pore you on the fixed Decree,

That holds predeftinated names?

Who fhall eternal glory fee?

Or who endure eternal flames?

Fate's

Bewailing, with religious tears,
Beneath the covert of these trees,

The follies of your former years;

Ere Death, your God and you fhall part,
Or worse than Death, a hardened Heart.

Soon as we grow divinely wife,

The gloomy clouds are chafed away:
Our fears difperfe, our forrow flies,
Like mifts before the eye of day;
What follows, but a virtuous ease,
The funfhine of eternal peace?

On the Death of the Rev. Mr. NOTCUTT, Minifter at Ipfwich, aged 84, who died July 17, 1756,

F temper heavenly, and of foul fincere,

OF

In converfe pleasing, and in conduct clear;

For facred truth as fleady as the pole,

For candour mild as ftars that round it roll:
In all a Paftor's various work approved,
Blessing more bleft, and loving more beloved;
With every gentle, focial virtue drest,
Of smiling patience even in death possest:
All this was Notcutt's praife; then think how high,
How bright his manfion in the empyreal sky?