To Mr. Joseph Cownley

Dublin, April 12, 1750. My Dear Brother, — I doubt you are in a great deal more danoer from honour than from dishonour. So it is with me. I always find there is most hazard in sailing upon smooth water. When the winds blow, and the seas rage, even the sleepers will rise and call upon God.

From Newcastle to London, and from London to Bristol, God is everywhere reviving his work. I find it so now in Dublin, although there has been great imprudence in some, wherelpy grievous wolves have lately crept in among us, not sparing the flock; by whom some souls have been utterly destroyed, and others wounded who are not yet recovered. Those who ought to have stood in the gap did not; but I trust they will be wiser for the time to come. After a season I think it will be highly expedient for you to labour in Ireland again. Mr. Lunell has been on the brink of the grave by a fever. Yesterday we had hopes of his recovery. I see a danger you are in, which perhaps you do not see yourself. Is it not most pleasing to me, as well as you, to be always preaching of the love of God? And is there not a time when we are peculiarly led thereto, and find a peculiar blessing therein? Without doubt so it is. But yet it would be utterly “wrong and unscriptural to preach of nothing else. Let the law always prepare for the gospel. I scarce ever spoke more earnestly here of the love of God in Christ than last niffht: but it was after I had been tearing the unawakened in pieces. Go thou and do likewise. It is true, the love of God in Christ alone feeds his children; but even they are to be guided as well as fed; yea, and often physicked too: and the bulk of our hearers must be purged before they are fed; else we only feed the disease. Beware of all honey. It is the best extreme; but it is an extreme.

XL. — TO THE SAME.

LondoTi., Jannary 10, 1756. My Dear Brother, — I have no objection to any thing but the blister. If it does good, well. But if I had been at Cork, all the physicians in Ireland should not have put it upon your head. Remember poor Bishop Pearson. An apothecary, to cure a pain in his head, covered it with a large blister. In an hour he cried out, “O my head, my head!” and was a fool ever after to the day of his death. I believe cooling things (if any thing under heaven) would remove that violent irritation of your nerves which probably occasions the pain. Moderate riding may be of use; 4^- I believe of more than the blister: only do not take more labour upon you than you can bear. Do as much as you can, and no more. Let us make use of the present time. Every day is of importance. We know not how few days of peace remain. We join in love to you and yours. I am, dear Joseph,

Your aflectionatc friend and brother.