Kitobni o'qish: «George Whitefield: A Biography, with special reference to his labors in America»

PREFACE

The excellent Matthew Henry has very truly said, "There are remains of great and good men, which, like Elijah's mantle, ought to be gathered up and preserved by the survivors – their sayings, their writings, their examples; that as their works follow them in the reward of them, they may stay behind in the benefit of them."

Influenced by this and kindred sentiments, the compiler of this volume has devoted no small labor to gather from every source to which he could gain access, whatever appeared to him important to be known respecting the most distinguished uninspired preacher perhaps of any age or country. Whatever may be the faults of the work, to use the language of the Rev. Dr. Campbell, one of the present pastors of Whitefield's churches in London, in reference to a short sketch he had himself prepared of our great evangelist, "It will serve to bring him and his apostolic labors before the minds of vast multitudes of the rising generation, to whom both are all but unknown; and this is far from unimportant. Whatever tends to fix the minds of men afresh upon the character of Whitefield is, and it always will be, something gained to the cause of true religion. The contemplation of that character is one of the most healthful exercises that can occupy a Christian heart, or a Christian understanding. It is an admirable theme for ministerial meditation. It tends equally to humble, to instruct, and to encourage; to excite love to Christ, zeal for his glory, and compassion for the souls of men. What Alexander and Cæsar, Charles XII. of Sweden and Napoleon the first, are to those of the sons of men who have not yet ceased to 'learn war,' that Whitefield and Wesley are to those who aspire to eminent usefulness as ministers and missionaries of the cross."

In the preparation of this memoir, the compiler has sought to collect together incidents which might interest and instruct, especially in connection with Whitefield's labors in America; to present him as much as possible in his own dress; and to use the facts of his life to excite and cherish his own spirit, so far as he had the spirit of Christ. Facts reflecting on the reputation and feelings of others have been used only as the interests of truth seemed to demand.

It would have been easy to place on almost every page an array of authorities, and to give here a long list of friends to whom the writer has been indebted for aid; but the sole object of the volume is the honor of Christ in the salvation of men, and that this may be accomplished, we pray that the blessing of Heaven may rest upon it.

Philadelphia, 1857.

CHAPTER I.
MORAL STATE OF GREAT BRITAIN IN THE EARLY PART OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY – WHITEFIELD FROM HIS BIRTH TO HIS FIRST SERMON

That we may have a clear and comprehensive view of the labors and success of George Whitefield, it is important that we consider the moral condition of Great Britain and its dependencies when the Head of the church brought him on the field of action. The latter part of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth centuries presented in that country a scene of moral darkness, the more remarkable as it so soon succeeded the triumph of evangelical truth which distinguished the seventeenth century, and which is perpetuated in a religious literature that will bless the world. Causes had long been at work which produced such insensibility and decline as to all that is good, and such a bold and open activity in evil, as it is hoped the grace of God may avert from his churches in all future time. The doctrine of the divine right of kings to implicit obedience on the part of their subjects; the principle of priestly control of the minds of men in religious matters; and clerical influence, sustained by kingly authority, in favor of sports on the Lord's day, together with the evil examples of men high in rank and power, had produced their natural results on the masses of the people, and make it painful, even at this distant period, to survey the scene.

Nor were these all the evils of that day. The expulsion from their pulpits, by the "Act of Uniformity," of two thousand of the most able and useful of the clergy in England, had led to great ignorance and neglect of religion; and though men like Leighton and Owen, Flavel and Baxter, with Bunyan and a host of others, had continued, in spite of opposing laws, to preach when they were not shut up in prison, and to write their immortal practical works, by the time of which we are speaking they had been called to their eternal reward, leaving very few men of like spirit behind them. Thus infidelity, profligacy, and formalism almost universally prevailed.

The low state of religion in the established church at that time may be learned from the Rev. Augustus M. Toplady, himself one of its ministers, who died in 1778. In a sermon yet extant he says, "I believe no denomination of professing Christians, the church of Rome excepted, were so generally void of the light and life of godliness, so generally destitute of the doctrine and of the grace of the gospel, as was the church of England, considered as a body, about fifty years ago. At that period a converted minister in the establishment was as great a wonder as a comet; but now, blessed be God, since that precious, that great apostle of the English empire, the late dear Mr. Whitefield, was raised up in the spirit and power of Elias, the word of God has run and been glorified; many have believed and been added to the Lord all over the three kingdoms; and blessed be his name, the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls continues still to issue his word, and great is the company of preachers, greater and greater every year."

If it be said that Toplady, as he belonged to a different school of theology from that which then generally prevailed, could scarcely be expected to be impartial, we ask leave to transcribe a few lines from Bishop Butler, who within six months of Whitefield's ordination wrote thus: "It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted by many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry; but that it is now at length discovered to be fictitious. And accordingly they treat it as if in the present age this were an agreed point among all people of discernment; and nothing remained but to set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way of reprisals for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the world." Bishop Warburton, who commenced his ministry a few years before Whitefield, and who cannot be charged with enthusiasm, says, "I have lived to see that fatal crisis, when religion hath lost its hold on the minds of the people."

Many other witnesses might be brought to testify that error and worldly mindedness had made mournful havoc among the clergy, and that spiritual religion had been almost buried in forms and ceremonies. A recent writer has well described the state of religion in the established church at that time, as only to be compared to a frozen or palsied carcass. "There," says this Episcopal clergyman, "were the time-honored formularies which the wisdom of the reformers had provided. There were the services and lessons from Scripture, just in the same order as we have them now. But as to preaching the gospel, in the established church there was almost none. The distinguishing doctrines of Christianity – the atonement, the work and office of Christ and the Spirit – were comparatively lost sight of. The vast majority of sermons were miserable moral essays, utterly devoid of any thing calculated to awaken, convert, save, or sanctify souls." Southey, a biographer of Wesley, who assuredly will not be accused of too strong a tendency to evangelical truth, is compelled to say, "A laxity of opinions as well as morals obtained, and infidelity, a plague which had lately found its way into the country, was becoming so prevalent, that the vice-chancellor of the university at Oxford, in a programma, exhorted the tutors to discharge their duties by double diligence, and had forbidden the under-graduates to read such books as might tend to the weakening of their faith."

There were undoubtedly some learned and conscientious bishops at this era. Such men were Secker and Gibson, Lowth and Horne, Butler, and others. But even the best of them seem sadly to have misunderstood the requirements of the day they lived in. They spent their strength in writing apologies for Christianity, and contending against infidels. They could not see that without the direct preaching of the essential doctrines of the gospel, their labors must be sadly defective. The man who dared to preach the doctrines of the Bible, and in harmony with the Articles and Homilies of his church, was set down as an enthusiast or fanatic.

Among those who had dissented from the established hierarchy, and who were untrammelled by the impositions of secular authority, the state of vital godliness was also unhappily very low. The noble spirits of early non-conformity had passed from earth, or crossed the Atlantic to the frozen shores of New England, and a race of men had sprung up, some of whom retained the tenets of orthodoxy, but had lost its power; while others reposed on comfortable endowments, and lulled themselves, or were drawn by favorable breezes, into the cold elements of Arianism and Socinianism. As persons in the frozen regions are said to sleep longer and more soundly than others, so did they; and a more terrific blast of the trumpet of the gospel was required to rouse and awake them from their spiritual slumbers. Happily indeed for the world, and for the church in it, there were some exceptions. Watts and Guyse and Doddridge, and their pious associates in different parts of the land, were laborers together in "God's husbandry," and ceased not to cultivate it with affectionate faithfulness and care; and wherever their labors extended, the plants of grace grew and flourished. Darracott, "the star of the west," threw his mild rays over the vales of Somerset; and in the north also a few faithful men were found.

Nor have we even now said all that should be written as to the character of those times. The highest personages in the land then openly lived in ways contrary to the law of God, and no man rebuked them. Profligacy and irreligion were reputable and respectable. Judging from the description we have of men and manners in those days, a gentleman might have been defined as a creature who got drunk, gambled, swore, fought duels, and violated the seventh commandment, and for all this very few thought the worse of him.

Those too were the days when the men whom even kings delighted to honor were such as Bolingbroke, Chesterfield, Walpole, and Newcastle. To be an infidel, to obtain power by intrigue, and to retain it by the grossest and most notorious bribery, were considered no disqualifications even for the highest offices. Such men indeed were not only tolerated, but praised. In those days too, Hume, an avowed infidel, put forth his History, and obtained a pension. Sterne and Swift then wrote their talented, but obscene books; both of them were clergymen, but the public saw little inconsistency in their conduct. Fielding and Smollett were the popular authors, and the literary taste of high and low was suited by Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Joseph Andrews, and Tom Jones. These authors were ingenious heathen philosophers, assuming the name of Christians, and forcibly paganizing Christianity for the sake of pleasing the world.

Turning to Scotland, we find that the bold proclamation of the discriminating truths of the gospel which characterize the preaching of Knox, Welsh, and others, was being rapidly laid aside, and cold formal addresses, verging towards a kind of Socinianism were becoming fashionable. Old Mr. Hutchinson, minister of Kilellan, in Renfrewshire, who saw but the beginning of this sad change, used to say to Wodrow the historian, "When I compare the times before the restoration with those since the revolution, I must own that the young ministers preach accurately, and methodically; but there was far more of the power and efficacy of the Spirit and of the grace of God went along with sermons in those days than now. For my own part – all the glory be to God – I seldom set my foot in a pulpit in those days, but I had notice of the blessed effects of the word." It is true, that even then there were a few faithful witnesses for God in Scotland, such as the brothers Erskine, in the Secession church; but for the most part, coldness, barrenness, and death prevailed. The people knew not God, and were strangers to the life-giving influence and power of the gospel.

The Arianism of England had been carried to the north of Ireland, and finding a state of feeling suitable to its reception, it took root and grew up, so as to characterize a distinct section of the Presbyterian church, then and still distinguished by the name of the Remonstrant Synod. The south and west of Ireland were subjected to a blight not less withering, though of a different kind, and which continued much longer – continued, to a great extent, throughout the whole of the last century. The clergy were usually sons of the gentry, and accustomed to their sporting, drinking, and riotous habits. They had no preparation for ministerial duties but a college degree; and no education, either literary or moral, which had not been obtained among wild young men at the university. According to the interest which they happened to have, they passed at once from college to ministerial charges, and again mixed in all the dissipations of the districts where these lay. Ignorant of the truth, they and their congregations were satisfied with some short moral discourse. Many of the people were almost as ignorant of the Scriptures and scripture truth as the inhabitants of Hindostan. The Catholic priests meanwhile were at work among the people, and they had many to help them. The sick and the dying were watched; their fears were wrought upon; they were told of the power which the priests had, of the influence possessed by the Virgin, and much about the old church; and as soon as any seemed to give way, on whatever point, the priest was sent for, who plied them anew, and seldom failed in succeeding with the poor ignorant people. They were now ready to receive absolution; but he had farther conditions to propose. The whole family must submit to be rebaptized, or at least promise to attend mass – and this also was not unfrequently gained; the Protestant clergyman being all the while at a distance, neither knowing nor much caring what was going on. In this way great numbers of the lower and middle classes of the Protestants went over to the church of Rome. Throughout whole districts the Protestant churches were almost emptied, and many of those in rural districts were allowed to fall into ruins.

Of Wales it is not important at present to say much. From the middle ages downwards, great darkness and superstition had prevailed among its mountains. It is true that in the days of James I., a clergyman named Wroth, whose conversion to the truth had been remarkable, had labored with eminent zeal and success, but at the period of which we are now writing declension had succeeded. Within the establishment all was cold and dead; nearly every minister was ignorant of the Welsh language, a fact which also applied to several successive bishops, while the state of morals, among even the leaders of the hierarchy, was truly deplorable. An old Methodist simply but truly described the country at this period, and of his correct narrative we will here give a free translation.

The land, he tells us, was dark indeed. Scarcely any of the lower ranks could read at all. The morals of the country were very corrupt; and in this respect there was no difference between high and low, layman and clergyman. Gluttony, drunkenness, and licentiousness prevailed through the whole country. Nor were the operations of the church at all adapted to repress these evils. From the pulpit the name of the Redeemer was scarcely heard; nor was much mention made of the natural sinfulness of man, or of the influence of the Holy Spirit. On Sunday mornings, the poor were more constant in their attendance at church than the gentry; but the Sunday evenings were spent by all in idle amusements. Every Sabbath there was practised a kind of sport, called in Welsh Achwaren-gamp, in which all the young men of the neighborhood had a trial of strength, and the people assembled from the surrounding country to witness their feats. On a Saturday night, particularly in the summer, the young men and women held what they called Nosweithian cann, or singing eves; that is, they met together and amused themselves by singing in turns to the harp, till the dawn of the Sabbath. These things, with the performance of rustic dramas, would occupy sometimes the whole of the sacred day itself; while a set of vagabonds, called the Bobl gerdded, or walking people, used to traverse the villages, begging with impunity, to the disgrace alike of the law and the country. With all this social sprightliness, the Welsh were then a superstitious, and even a gloomy people. They still retained many habits apparently derived from paganism, and not a few of the practices of popery. Their funerals, like those of the Irish, were scenes of riot and drunkenness, followed by prayers for the release of the deceased from the pains of purgatory. Such was the superstition of the people, that when Methodism was first introduced among them, many of the peasantry expressed their horror of the new opinions by the truly Popish gesture of crossing the forehead; and when Wesley first visited them, he pronounced them "as little versed in the principles of Christianity as a Creek or Cherokee Indian." To this declaration he added the striking remark, that, "notwithstanding their superstition and ignorance, the people 'were ripe for the gospel,' and most enthusiastically anxious to avail themselves of every opportunity of instruction."

As an illustration of the truth of the remark we have just introduced from the discerning Wesley, we may mention an incident which occurred in 1736. At this period dissent itself was reduced so low in the country, that there were only six dissenting houses of worship in all North Wales. One Sunday, Mr. Lewis Rees, a dissenting minister from South Wales, and the father of Dr. Rees, the author of the celebrated Cyclopedia which bears his name, visited Pwllheli, a town on the promontory of Slëyn, in Caernarvonshire, and one of the few places in which the Independents still had a chapel. After the service, the congregation, collecting around him, complained very sorely that their numbers were rapidly diminishing, that the few who yet remained were for the most part poor, and that every thing connected with their cause looked gloomy. To which the minister replied, "The dawn of religion is again breaking out in South Wales," referring them to the fact, that already a distinguished man – Howel Harris – had risen up, going about instructing the people in the truths of the gospel. Such was the character of the times when God was raising up agents to revive and extend his cause. We shall before long return to Wales with lively interest.

"Such," says the eloquent Robert Hall, "was the situation of things when Whitefield and Wesley made their appearance, who, whatever failings the severest criticism can discover in their character, will be hailed by posterity as the second reformers of England. Nothing was farther from the views of these excellent men than to innovate on the established religion of their country; their sole aim was to recall the people to the good old way, and to imprint the doctrines of the Articles and Homilies on the spirits of men. But this doctrine had been so long a dead letter, and so completely obliterated from the mind by contrary instructions, that the attempt to revive it met with all the opposition that innovation is sure to encounter, in addition to what naturally results from the nature of the doctrine itself, which has to contend with the whole force of human corruption. The revival of the old, appeared like the introduction of a new religion; and the hostility it excited was less sanguinary, but scarcely less virulent, than that which signalized the first publication of Christianity. The gospel of Christ, or that system of truth which was laid at the foundation of the Reformation, has since made rapid advances, and in every step of its progress has sustained the most furious assaults."

It ought here to be stated, as illustrating the providence of God in preparing the British empire for the reception of the gospel, that the revolution of 1688 introduced the spirit of toleration, and in 1714, the very year of Whitefield's birth, Anne, the last English sovereign of a persecuting spirit, died, and the throne was assumed by George I., the first prince of the house of Hanover. The way of the Lord was thus prepared for bright illustrations of his mercy.

Rising from the beautiful valley of the Severn, and on the borders of that noble stream, reposes in antique glory the affluent city of Gloucester, with its regular streets, and its majestic cathedral and other relics of bygone days. In that city the traveller may examine three spots which will long be interesting to the student of ecclesiastical curiosities. The first of these is the ancient church of Mary de Crypt, where reposes the dust of Robert Raikes, the founder of Sunday-schools; the second, is the little stone which, in a pensive-looking inclosure, marks the site on which the truly noble-minded and Protestant Bishop Hooper was burnt, an early martyr of bloody Mary's reign. There wicked men stood around to light up the flames, and to mock his sorrows; but as we stand and look, we exult in the subsequent triumphs of truth.

The third spot, and the one to us at the present moment the most interesting, is the Bell inn or hotel, yet standing, though enlarged and beautified since the period of which we write. There Whitefield – the saint, the seraph, the "angel flying in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach to them that dwell on the earth" – first breathed the vital air. Venerable city, we will rejoice that though within thy walls one glorious luminary of salvation was extinguished, another "burning and shining light" was raised up to diffuse joy and happiness over the two most influential quarters of the globe, and a third has since been given to suggest the simple plan by which millions of the young have already acquired the knowledge of salvation.

George Whitefield, the sixth son of Thomas and Elizabeth Whitefield, was born December 16, 1714, old style. Concerning his father and mother he writes, "The former died when I was two years old; the latter died in December, 1751, in the seventy-first year of her age, and has often told me how she endured fourteen weeks' sickness after she brought me into the world; but was used to say, even when I was an infant, that she expected more comfort from me than from any other of her children. This, with the circumstance of my being born in an inn, has often been of service to me, in exciting my endeavors to make good my mother's expectations, and so follow the example of my dear Saviour, who was laid in a manger belonging to an inn."

In one of his journals, which he commenced at a very early part of his ministry, Whitefield details with great simplicity many incidents of his childhood and youth; from which it appears, that though at times he had many serious thoughts and impressions, the general course of his life, till the age of sixteen, was irreligious. He tells us that in early youth he was "so brutish as to hate instruction, and used purposely to shun all opportunities of receiving it," and that he spent much money, improperly obtained from his mother, in cards, plays, and romances, "which," says he, "were my heart's delight. Often have I joined with others in playing roguish tricks; but was generally, if not always, happily detected: for this I have often since, and do now bless and praise God." His full confessions of this character are very affecting, and should be a caution to young persons to repel all such temptations.

When George was about ten years of age, his mother married a second time, thus forming a connection which led to much unhappiness. He was, however, continued at school; and when twelve years old, was transferred to the grammar-school of St. Mary de Crypt, where he remained about three years. Having a graceful elocution and a good memory, he gained much credit for delivering speeches before the city corporation at the annual visitation of the school, and received pecuniary rewards for his performances on those occasions. How deeply he afterwards deplored these celebrations, especially the performance of plays in connection with his school-fellows, may be learned from his own words: "I cannot but observe here, with much concern of mind, how this way of training up youth has a natural tendency to debauch the mind, to raise ill passions, and to stuff the memory with things as contrary to the gospel of Christ, as darkness to light, hell to heaven." This sad tendency was but too clearly evinced in the case of Whitefield himself. "I got acquainted," he says, "with such a set of debauched, abandoned, atheistical youths, that if God, by his free, unmerited, and special grace, had not delivered me out of their hands, I should have sat in the scorner's chair, and made a mock at sin. By keeping company with them, my thoughts of religion grew more and more like theirs. I went to public service only to make sport, and walk about. I took pleasure in their lewd conversation. I began to reason as they did, and to ask why God had given me passions, and not permitted me to gratify them. In short, I soon made great proficiency in the school of the devil. I affected to look rakish, and was in a fair way of being as infamous as the worst of them." These were the things, and not oratory, as has sometimes been said, which Whitefield learned from plays and acting.

In the midst of all this, his conscience often made him unhappy; and he wished, if possible, to combine religion with his pleasures. He purchased and carefully read "Ken's Manual for Winchester Scholars," a book which commended itself as having comforted his mother in her afflictions, and which he afterwards considered to have been "of great benefit to his soul."

At the age of fifteen, he thought he had acquired learning enough for any ordinary occupation in life, and as his mother's business was declining, he persuaded her to allow him to leave school and assist in labor. "I began," says he, "to assist her occasionally in the public-house, till at length I put on my blue apron and my snuffers, washed mops, cleaned rooms, and in one word, became professed and common drawer for nearly a year and a half." In the midst of the activity called for in such a situation, it pleased God to renew his religious impressions, which induced him, at least at intervals, to attend with much earnestness to the concerns of his soul.

From his childhood, Whitefield tells us, he "was always fond of being a clergyman, and used frequently to imitate the ministers' reading prayers." Nor did this tendency towards clerical engagements cease as he became older. "Notwithstanding," he says, "I was thus employed in a large inn, and had sometimes the care of the whole house upon my hands, yet I composed two or three sermons, and dedicated one of them to my elder brother. One day, I remember, I was very much pressed to self-examination, and found myself very unwilling to look into my heart. Frequently I read the Bible when sitting up at night. And a dear youth, now with God, would often entreat me, when serving at the bar, to go to Oxford. My general answer was, 'I wish I could.'"

His mother's difficulties increasing, it became necessary for her to leave the inn; in which she was succeeded by one of her married sons, with whom George for some time remained to continue his assistance in the business. Some disagreement, however, arising between them, he after a time took his departure from the inn, and went to spend a month with his eldest brother at Bristol. Returning from that city to Gloucester, he resided for a short season with his mother. While thus living unemployed, without any definite object before him, and waiting the openings of providence, his mother was visited by an Oxford student, a servitor of Pembroke college in that university. In the course of their conversation, he told her, that after all his expenses at college for the quarter were discharged, he had one penny remaining. She immediately exclaimed, "This will do for my son!" and turning to him, said, "Will you go to Oxford, George?" He replied, "With all my heart." Application was immediately made to several friends who had influence at the college, and they pledged themselves to serve her. In this confidence, her favorite son returned to the grammar-school, where he not only resumed his studies with greater diligence, but endeavored, and not altogether in vain, to promote religion and virtue among his associates.

Having fully secured his literary preparation for the university, Whitefield removed to Oxford in his eighteenth year, and was immediately admitted, as a servitor, into Pembroke college. He soon found that the seat of learning was also a scene of danger. From the period of 1662, when the two thousand Non-conformists had been expelled from the church, the universities had been sinking into a moral lethargy, preferring uniformity to vital religion. Our young servitor was shocked with the impiety of the students in general, and dreading their influence on himself, he as much as possible abstained from their society, and shut himself up in his study.

Before he went to Oxford, Whitefield had heard of a class of young men in the university who "lived by rule and method," and were therefore called Methodists. They were much talked of, and generally despised. Of this party, John Wesley, a Fellow of Lincoln college, and already in holy orders, was the leader, his brother Charles being also as warmly attached to it. They avowed that the great object of their lives was to save their souls, and to live wholly to the glory of God; and rarely have men subjected themselves to greater self-denials and austerities. Drawn towards them by kindred feelings, Whitefield strenuously defended them whenever he heard them reviled, and when he saw them going, through a crowd manifesting their ridicule, every Sunday to receive the sacrament at St. Mary's or Christ church, he was strongly inclined to follow their example.

For more than a year he intensely desired to be acquainted with them, but a sense of his pecuniary inferiority to them prevented his advances. At length, learning that a pauper had attempted suicide, Whitefield sent a poor woman to inform Charles Wesley, that so he might visit her, and administer religious instruction. He charged the woman not to tell Mr. Wesley who sent her, but, contrary to this injunction, she told his name; and Charles Wesley, who had frequently seen Whitefield walking by himself, on the next morning invited him to breakfast. An introduction to the little brotherhood soon followed, and he also, like them, "began to live by rule, and pick up the very fragments of his time, that not a moment might be lost."

It is painful to read Whitefield's own account of the mortifications of body to which he now submitted; and we are not surprised that, as the result, his health was so reduced as to place even his life in danger. All this time he had no clear view of the way of salvation, and was "seeking to work out a righteousness of his own." In this state he lay on his bed, his tongue parched with fever, and the words of the dying Saviour, "I thirst," were impressed on his mind. Remembering that this thirst occurred near the end of the Saviour's sufferings, the thought arose in his mind, "Why may it not be so with me? Why may I not now receive deliverance and comfort? Why may I not now dare to trust and rejoice in the pardoning mercy of God?" There was, as Tracy has said, no reason why he might not – why he ought not. He saw nothing to forbid him. He prayed in hope, borrowing language from the fact which suggested the train of thought – "I thirst, I thirst for faith in pardoning love. Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief." His prayer was heard. He dared to trust in the mercy of God, as revealed in the death of Jesus Christ for sinners. Conscience and his Bible bore witness that he did right. The load that had so heavily oppressed him, the load of guilt and terror and anxiety, that weighed down his spirit while he sinfully and ungratefully hesitated to trust in divine mercy, was gone. He saw the trustworthiness of the mercy of God in Christ, and his heart rejoiced.

"Though," as Tracy has well said, "the English universities were established mainly for the purpose of educating men for the ministry, Whitefield was not likely to gain a good knowledge of theology there. He took another, and a characteristic course. Some time after his conversion, when he was at Gloucester, he says, 'I began to read the holy Scriptures upon my knees; laying aside all other books, and praying over, if possible, every line and word. This proved meat indeed and drink indeed to my soul. I daily received fresh life, light, and power from above. I thus got more true knowledge in reading the book of God in one month, than I could ever have acquired from all the writings of men.'"

Every hour of Whitefield's time, especially after he had been "filled with peace and joy in believing," was sacredly devoted to preparation for the great work to which he had now solemnly devoted himself. He visited the prisoners in the jail, and the poor in their cottages, and gave as much time as he could to communion with God in his closet. His friends now earnestly importuned him to apply for ordination; but from this his deep sense of unworthiness made him shrink. Besides, he intended to have a hundred and fifty sermons carefully written before he began to preach. He had as yet but one, and he lent that to a neighboring clergyman, to convince him that he was not yet fit to be ordained. The clergyman kept it for two weeks, divided it into two, preached it to his own people, and then returned it to Whitefield, with a guinea for the use of it.

Still, however, the work of preparation for the ministry was rapidly going on. The state of his health compelled him to retire for a season from Oxford, and he returned home to increase the depth of his piety, and to be led, little as he thought of it, at once to the pulpit. He writes, "O what sweet communion had I daily vouchsafed with God in prayer, after my coming to Gloucester. How often have I been carried out beyond myself, when meditating in the fields. How assuredly I felt that Christ dwelt in me, and I in him; and how daily did I walk in the comforts of the Holy Ghost, and was edified and refreshed in the multitude of peace. I always observed that as my inward strength increased, so my outward sphere of action increased proportionably."

Thus, happy in himself, and thankful to the gracious God who made him so, the affectionate soul of George Whitefield ardently desired that others might participate in his sacred joys. In order to advance this object, he mixed in the society of young people, and endeavored to awaken them to a just sense of the nature of true religion. Some were convinced of the truth, and united with him in religious exercises; and these were some of the first-fruits of his pious labors. His discovery of the necessity of regeneration, like Melancthon's great discovery of the truth, led him to imagine that no one could resist the evidence which convinced his own mind. He writes, "Upon this, like the woman of Samaria, when Christ revealed himself to her at the well, I had no rest in my soul till I wrote letters to my relations, telling them there was such a thing as the new birth. I imagined they would have gladly received it; but, alas, my words seemed to them as idle tales. They thought I was going beside myself." He visited the jail every day, and read and prayed with the prisoners; attended public worship very frequently, and read twice or three times a week to some poor people in the city. In addition to all this, he tells us, "During my stay here, God enabled me to give a public testimony of my repentance as to seeing and acting plays; for hearing the strollers had come to town, and knowing what an egregious offender I had been, I was stirred up to extract Mr. Law's excellent treatise, entitled, "The absolute Unlawfulness of the Stage Entertainment." The printer, at my request, put a little of it in the newspaper for six weeks successively; and God was pleased to give it his blessing."

In this manner Whitefield employed himself during nine months; and one effect of so doing was, that the partition wall of bigotry was soon broken down in his heart. He says, "I loved all, of whatever denomination, who loved the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity." This statement in his diary is connected with an account of the benefit he derived from studying the works of the Non-conformists. "Baxter's Call," and "Alleine's Alarm," so accorded with his own ideas of fidelity and unction, that wherever he recognized their spirit he acknowledged "a brother beloved." On this portion of his history we dwell with unspeakable delight; the only drawback is an undue importance he appears to have attached to dreams; and even those, considered as an index to his waking hours, are interesting, revealing as they do his deep solicitude on the behalf of souls.

Here then, before he had completed his twenty-first year, we see Whitefield returned to Gloucester, and such was already the fame of his piety and talents, that Dr. Benson, the bishop of the diocese, offered to dispense, in his favor, with the rule which forbids the ordination of deacons at so unripe an age. Thus graphically did he afterwards describe his acceptance of this proposal.

"I never prayed against any corruption I had in my life so much as I did against going into holy orders so soon as my friends were for having me go. Bishop Benson was pleased to honor me with peculiar friendship, so as to offer me preferment, or to do any thing for me. My friends wanted me to mount the church betimes. They wanted me to knock my head against the pulpit too young; but how some young men stand up here and there and preach, I do not know. However it be to them, God knows how deep a concern entering into the ministry and preaching was to me. I prayed a thousand times, till the sweat has dropped from my face like rain, that God of his infinite mercy would not let me enter the church till he called me and thrust me forth in his work. I remember once in Gloucester – I know the room; I look up to the window when I am there and walk along the street – I said, 'Lord, I cannot go; I shall be puffed up with pride, and fall into the condemnation of the devil. Lord, do not let me go yet.' I pleaded to be at Oxford two or three years more. I intended to make one hundred and fifty sermons, and thought that I would set up with a good stock in trade. I remember praying, wrestling, and striving with God. I said, 'I am undone, I am unfit to preach in thy great name. Send me not. Lord, send me not yet.' I wrote to all my friends in town and country to pray against the bishop's solicitation; but they insisted I should go into orders before I was twenty-two. After all their solicitations these words came into my mind: 'Nothing shall pluck you out of my hands;' they came warm to my heart. Then, and not till then, I said, 'Lord, I will go; send me when thou wilt.'"

Sunday, June 20, 1736, was the day appointed for his ordination in the cathedral at Gloucester. On the preceding evening he spent two hours in prayer for himself and the others who were to be set apart to the sacred office with him; and on the day itself he rose early, and passed the morning in prayer and meditation on the qualifications and duties of the office he was about to undertake. On a review of the solemn services of the day, he says, "I trust I answered every question from the bottom of my heart, and heartily prayed that God might say, Amen. And when the bishop laid his hands upon my head, if my vile heart do not deceive me, I offered my whole spirit, soul, and body to the service of God's sanctuary. Let come what will, life or death, depth or height, I shall henceforward live like one who this day, in the presence of men and angels, took the holy sacrament, on the profession of being inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take upon me that ministration in the church. I call heaven and earth to witness, that when the bishop laid his hands upon me, I gave myself up to be a martyr for Him who hung upon the cross for me. Known unto him are all future events and contingencies; I have thrown myself blindfold, and I trust without reserve, into his almighty hands. When I went up to the altar, I could think of nothing but Samuel's standing before the Lord with a linen ephod."

Having thus received ordination as a deacon of the church of England, he delayed not to enter upon the work to which he was appointed; and accordingly, on the next Sabbath he preached his first sermon in his native city of Gloucester, selecting for his subject, "The necessity and benefit of religious society." At the appointed time he ascended the pulpit, in the church of St. Mary de Crypt. We have his own record of the service: "Last Sunday, in the afternoon, I preached my first sermon in the church where I first received the Lord's supper. Curiosity drew a large congregation together. The sight, at first, a little awed me; but I was comforted with a heartfelt sense of the divine presence, and soon found the advantage of having been accustomed to public speaking when a boy at school, and of exhorting and teaching the prisoners and the poor people at their private houses, while at the university. By these means I was kept from being daunted overmuch. As I proceeded, I perceived the fire kindled, till at last, though so young, and amidst a crowd of those who knew me in my childish days, I trust I was enabled to speak with some degree of gospel authority. Some few mocked, but most, for the present, seemed struck; and I have since heard that a complaint was made to the bishop, that I drove fifteen people mad the first sermon. The worthy prelate, as I am informed, wished that the madness might not be forgotten before the next Sunday. Before then, I hope that my sermon upon, 'He that is in Christ is a new creature,' will be completed. Blessed be God, I now find freedom in writing. Glorious Jesus,

"'Unloose my stammering tongue to tell

Thy love immense, unsearchable.'"

It is remarkable, under all the circumstances of the case, that Bishop Benson, a man never distinguished for his evangelical views, always showed his friendship for Whitefield. Not only did he offer him ordination when others might have refused, and defend him against the persecutions to which he was exposed, but he more than once gave him pecuniary help when it was much needed, though the young clergyman had never complained.

Thus early apprized of the secret of his strength, his profound aspirations for the growth of Christianity, the delight of exercising his rare powers, and the popular admiration, operating with combined and ceaseless force upon a mind impatient of repose, urged him into exertions which, if not attested by irrefragable proofs, might appear incredible. It was the statement of one who knew him well, and who was incapable of wilful exaggeration, and it is confirmed by his letters, journals, and a "cloud of witnesses," that "in the compass of a single week, and that for years, he spoke in general forty hours, and in very many sixty, and that to thousands: and after his labors, instead of taking any rest, he was engaged in offering up prayers and intercessions, with hymns and spiritual songs, as his manner was, in every house to which he was invited." Never perhaps, since the apostolic age, has any man given himself so entirely to preaching the gospel of Christ for the salvation of souls, adopting as his motto the language of the apostle Paul, "This one thing I do."

CHAPTER II.
WHITEFIELD'S SUCCESS AS A PREACHER IN ENGLAND – FIRST VISIT TO AMERICA.
1736-1738

Whitefield, though thus prepared for action, was not impatient, but willing to wait till his duty was fully ascertained. On the Wednesday after his first sermon he went to Oxford, where, he says, "I was received with great joy by my religious friends. For about a week I continued in my servitor's habit, and then took my degree of Bachelor of Arts, after having been at the university three years and three quarters, and going on towards the twenty-second year of my age. My dear and honored friends, the Rev. Messrs. John and Charles Wesley, being now embarked for Georgia, and one or two others having taken orders, the interest of Methodism, as it was then and is now termed, had visibly declined, and very few of this reputedly mad way were left at the university. This somewhat discouraged me at times, but the Lord Jesus supported my soul, and made me easy by giving me a strong conviction that I was where he would have me to be. My degree, I soon found, was of service to me, as it gave me access to those I could not be seen with when in an inferior station; and as opportunity offered, I was enabled to converse with them about the things which belonged to the kingdom of God. The subscriptions for the poor prisoners, which amounted to about forty pounds per annum, were soon put into my hands; two or three charity schools, maintained by the Methodists, were under my more immediate inspection; which, with the time I spent in following my studies, private retirement, and religious converse, sweetly filled up the whole of my day, and kept me from that unaccountable but too common complaint of having any time hang upon my hands."

The stay of Mr. Whitefield at Oxford, however, was very short. He says, "By a series of unforeseen, unexpected, and unsought-for providences, I was called in a short time from my beloved retirement to take a journey to the metropolis of England. While I was an under-graduate, among the religious friends, I was very intimate with one Mr. B – n, a professed Methodist, who had lately taken orders, and was curate at the Tower of London. With him, when absent, I frequently corresponded, and when present took sweet counsel, and walked to the house of God as friends. He mentioned me to that late good and great man, Sir John Phillips; and being called down for a while into Hampshire, he wrote to me to be of good courage, and in the strength of God bade me hasten to town to officiate in his absence, and to be refreshed with the sight and conversation of many who loved me for Christ's sake, and had for a long time desired to see me."

On his arrival in London, Whitefield delivered his first sermon there in Bishopsgate church, on the afternoon of Lord's day, August 8. On entering the pulpit, his juvenile aspect excited a general feeling of his unfitness for the station, but he had not proceeded far in his sermon before it gave place to universal expressions of wonder and pleasure. If however he was thus exposed to the danger of vanity, as he says, "God sent me something to ballast it. For as I passed along the streets, many came out of their shops, admiring to see so young a person in a gown and cassock. One I remember in particular, cried out, 'There's a boy parson;' which, as it served to mortify my pride, put me also upon turning that apostolical exhortation into prayer, 'Let no man despise thy youth.'" From his first sermon to his departure, at the end of two months, his popularity in London continued to increase, and the crowds were so vast that it was necessary to place constables both inside and outside of the churches to preserve the peace. He tells us himself, "Here I continued for the space of two months, reading prayers twice a week, catechizing and preaching once, visiting the soldiers in the infirmary and barracks daily. I also read prayers every evening at Wapping chapel, and preached at Ludgate prison every Tuesday. God was pleased to give me favor in the eyes of the inhabitants of the Tower; the chapel was crowded on Lord's days; religious friends from divers parts of the town attended the word, and several young men came on Lord's-day morning, under serious impressions, to hear me discourse about the new birth, and the necessity of renouncing all in affection in order to follow Jesus Christ."

The preaching of Mr. Whitefield now excited an unusual degree of attention among persons of all ranks. In many of the city churches he proclaimed the glad tidings of great joy to listening multitudes, who were powerfully affected by the fire which was displayed in the animated addresses of this man of God. Lord and Lady Huntingdon constantly attended wherever he preached, and Lady Anne Frankland became one of the first-fruits of his ministry among the nobility of the metropolis. Her ladyship spent much of her time with Lady Huntingdon, from whose society and conversation she derived great comfort. She was a daughter of Richard, the first Earl of Scarborough; was for many years lady of the bedchamber to the Princess Anne, and to the Princesses Amelia and Caroline; and finally became the second wife of Frederic Frankland, Esq., a member of Parliament, from whose cruelty she endured much.

We have already said, that some time before this Messrs. John and Charles Wesley had embarked for Georgia, and to their names we might have added that of Mr. Ingham, also a member of the Methodist fraternity at Oxford.

Georgia, which was explored by Sir Walter Raleigh in 1584, had been colonized by debtors from Europe, by multitudes who had fled from the grasp of persecution, and by others who were interested in constructing a barrier against Spanish aggression. It originally had trustees in England, concerned for its interests, including sons of the nobility. The chief agent in executing the benevolent designs in view was the truly excellent General Oglethorpe, who admirably carried out the motto he gave to his companions in the work, "Non sibi sed aliis" – "Not for themselves, but for others." The children of poverty, taken from the overgrown agricultural population, already a tax upon parish bounty at home, were to be transferred in large numbers to the silk and indigo plantations which were established on the savannahs and bottoms south and west of the river, which thence derived its name from the peculiar conformation of the adjoining plains. Combined with these leading purposes, it was a cherished principle with the early patrons of this colony, that it should become the centre for the diffusion of the gospel among the natives; while charitable foundations were also laid for the secular and religious education of all who would take advantage of such provisions. The first Christians who left Europe to advance the spiritual interests of Georgia were Moravians, and the next were the Wesleys and Ingham. The records of the colony, as quoted in White's Historical Collections of Georgia, show that, Sept. 14, 1735, Charles Wesley was appointed "Secretary for the Indian affairs in Georgia," and that, Oct. 10, 1735, John Wesley was appointed "missionary at Savannah."

Whitefield had left London, and was laboring among a poor and illiterate people in Hampshire, when his attention was directly drawn to Georgia. This was not, indeed, the first time his heart had been interested in the matter. He writes, "When I had been about a month in town, letters came from the Messrs. Wesley, and the Rev. Mr. Ingham their fellow-laborer, an Israelite indeed, from Georgia. Their accounts fired my soul, and made me long to go abroad for God too. But having no outward call, and being as I then thought too weak in body ever to undertake a voyage at sea, I endeavored to lay aside all thoughts of going abroad. But my endeavors were all in vain; for I felt at times such a strong attraction in my soul towards Georgia, that I thought it almost irresistible. I strove against it with all my power, begged again and again, with many cries and tears, that the Lord would not suffer me to be deluded, and at length opened my mind to several dear friends. All agreed that laborers were wanted at home, that I had as yet no visible call abroad, and that it was my duty not to be rash, but wait and see what Providence might point out to me. To this I consented with my whole heart."

The path of duty, however, soon opened before him. While fulfilling his duties at Dummer, in Hampshire, preaching for the Rev. Mr. Kinchin, who was now absent from home, to which labors we have already referred, he received an invitation to a lucrative curacy in London; but Georgia still rested like one of the prophetic "burdens" on his mind. At this juncture he received a letter from his clerical friend at the Tower, saying that Mr. Charles Wesley had arrived in London. Very soon Mr. Wesley himself wrote to Whitefield, saying, that he was come over to procure laborers, "but," added he, "I dare not prevent God's nomination." "In a few days after this," writes Mr. Whitefield, "came another letter from Mr. John Wesley, wherein were these words: 'Only Mr. Delamotte is with me, till God shall stir up the hearts of some of his servants, who putting their lives in their hands, shall come over and help us, where the harvest is so great, and the laborers so few. What if thou art the man, Mr. Whitefield?' In another letter were these words: 'Do you ask me what you shall have? Food to eat and raiment to put on, a house to lay your head in – such as our Lord had not – and a crown of glory that fadeth not away.' Upon reading this my heart leaped within me, and as it were echoed to the call."

After having consulted his bishop, Dr. Benson, as also the archbishop of Canterbury, and the trustees of Georgia including General James Oglethorpe who was then in London, he went to Bristol, Bath, and other places, to take leave of his personal friends. As he could not refrain from preaching, so every sermon increased his popularity. We give his account of his preaching at Bristol, as a specimen of the reception he met with.

"It was wonderful to see how the people hung upon the rails of the organ-loft, climbed upon the leads of the church, and made the church itself so hot with their breath, that the steam would fall from the pillars like drops of rain. Sometimes almost as many would go away for want of room as came in, and it was with great difficulty I got into the desk to read prayers or preach. Persons of all ranks not only publicly attended my ministry, but gave me private invitations to their houses. A private society or two were erected. I preached and collected for the poor prisoners in Newgate twice or thrice a week, and many made me large offers if I would not go abroad."

Having mentioned General James Edward Oglethorpe, the first governor, and indeed the founder of the colony of Georgia, and to the end of Whitefield's life his cordial friend, a few additional facts concerning him may here be stated. He was the son of Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe, and was born in London, December 21, 1688. At sixteen he was admitted a student at Oxford, but did not finish his studies, as the military profession had more charms for him than literary pursuits. He was first commissioned as an ensign. After the death of Queen Anne, he entered into the service of Prince Eugene. When he attained the age of twenty-four years, he entered Parliament, for Haslemere, where he continued thirty-two years. In November, 1732, Oglethorpe, with one hundred and sixteen settlers, embarked for Georgia, and landed at Charleston, S. C., January 13, 1733. They shortly afterwards proceeded to Georgia, where Oglethorpe laid out a town, and called it Savannah. He very happily secured the good will of the Indians. In 1743, he left Georgia for England, to answer charges brought against him by Lieutenant-colonel Cook. A court martial declared the charges groundless and malicious, and Cook was dismissed from the service. In 1744 he was appointed one of the field-officers under field-marshal the Earl of Stair, to oppose the expected invasion of France. He died in 1785. He was truly a noble man.

As the period approached when Whitefield was to leave England, the people showed their esteem for him in almost every possible way. They followed him so closely, and in such numbers, for holy counsels, that he could scarcely command a moment for retirement. They begged to receive from him religious books, and to have their names written therein with his own hand, as memorials of him, and very many followed him from place to place till his final embarkation.

It was indeed a surprising fact, that a young man, scarcely more than twenty-two years of age, and previously unknown to the world, should be able to collect such immense congregations, and rouse and command their attention; multitudes hanging upon and receiving instructions from his lips. But God had endowed him with a singular union of qualities, which most eminently fitted him for the work of an evangelist. He was faithful to his trust, and his divine Master abundantly blessed and honored him in the discharge of its momentous duties.

We have now traced the amazing effects of Whitefield's first sermons, and it may be interesting briefly to inquire into their general character, and to ascertain what truths thus aroused the public mind. Three of these sermons can, happily, be identified with these "times of refreshing;" and they may be depended on, as specimens of both the letter and the spirit of his preaching, because they were printed from his own manuscripts: they are those on "Early Piety," "Regeneration," and "Intercession." Whoever will read the appeals in these sermons, realizing the circumstances under which they were made, will scarcely wonder at the effect produced by them. The topics of the second and third, and the tone of all the three, are very different from the matter and manner of sermonizing then known to the masses of the people. They do not surprise us, because happily neither the topics nor the tone of them are "strange things to our ears." Both, however, were novelties in those days, even in London. When or where had an appeal been made like this?

"I beseech you, in love and compassion, to come to Jesus. Indeed, all I say is in love to your souls. And if I could be but an instrument of bringing you to Jesus, I should not envy, but rejoice in your happiness, however much you were exalted. If I was to make up the last of the train of the companions of the blessed Jesus, it would rejoice me to see you above me in glory. I could willingly go to prison or to death for you, so I could but bring one soul from the devil's strong-holds, into the salvation which is by Christ Jesus. Come then to Christ, every one that hears me this night. Come, come, my guilty brethren; I beseech you, for your immortal souls' sake, for Christ's sake, come to Christ. Methinks I could speak till midnight unto you. Would you have me go and tell my Master that you will not come, and that I have spent my strength in vain? I cannot bear to carry such a message to him. I would not, indeed, I would not be a swift witness against you at the great day of account; but if you will refuse these gracious invitations, I must do it."

In this spirit, not very prevalent even now, Whitefield began his ministry. There is a fascination as well as fervor, or rather a fascination arising from fervor, in some of his earliest as well as his later discourses. How bold and beautiful is the peroration of that on "Intercession." Referring to the holy impatience of "the souls under the altar," for the coming of the kingdom of God, he exclaims,

The interval between his taking priests' orders, and embarking a second time for Georgia, was employed by Whitefield, with his usual energy and success, in preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, and in making collections for his Orphan-house. Having, before his visit to America, collected large sums for the charity schools in the metropolis, he naturally expected that the pulpits would not be denied him now, in which to plead the interests of his own poor. But he was scarcely yet aware that the tide of clerical opinion had turned so extensively and strongly against him. The doctrines he had preached, and the manner in which he had preached them, had produced a sensation so strong, that he found himself excluded from most of the churches in London. A few, however, were yet open to him for his benevolent design. The Rev. Mr. Broughton conducted himself, among others, very nobly. Having been urged to refuse his pulpit, as some of his neighbors had done, he boldly replied, that "having obtained the lectureship of St. Helen's by Whitefield's influence, he should have the pulpit if he desired it." Mr. Whitefield preached, but Mr. Broughton thus losing the lectureship, Whitefield blamed himself for having done so. Whatever he might himself be willing to suffer, he was not willing to inflict inconvenience on others.

Only a few days before his being ordained as priest, Whitefield offered his first public extempore prayer, in a large meeting in Red Cross-street, London. He mentions this fact in a note of his diary as "the first time I ever prayed extempore before such a number." He did not even then suppose that his preaching, as well as his prayers in this manner, were to develop his mighty power. The crowding of the churches now suggested the idea of preaching in the open air. He says, "When I was informed that nearly a thousand people stood out in the church-yard, and that hundreds returned home, this put me first upon thinking of preaching without doors. I mentioned it to some friends, who looked upon it as a mad motion. However, we kneeled down and prayed that nothing might be done rashly. Hear and answer, O Lord, for thy name's sake."

We shall soon see how his extempore expositions and prayers were fitting him for this new enterprise. He would have commenced in London now, but he lacked a fair opportunity.

CHAPTER III.
OPEN-AIR PREACHING IN ENGLAND AND WALES – ERECTION OF THE TABERNACLE IN LONDON.
1738-1739

Under the circumstances we have related in our last chapter, Whitefield paid another visit to Bristol, and soon found that he had to meet with new and very unexpected opposition. When he arrived in the city, the chancellor of the diocese, while he did not approve of what he considered his irregular conduct, told him that he would not prohibit any clergyman from lending him his church; but in a few days afterwards he sent for the evangelist, and announced his entire opposition to his movements. Strangely enough, he now asked Whitefield by what authority he preached in the diocese of Bristol without a license. The reply of the intrepid minister was, that he supposed such a custom had become obsolete, and asked the chancellor in his turn, "And pray, sir, why did you not ask the clergyman who preached for you last Thursday this question?" The chancellor then read to him the canons which forbid any clergyman from preaching in a private house; to which Whitefield replied, that he did not suppose these canons referred to professed ministers of the church of England; and when the chancellor told him he was mistaken, he reminded his superior, "There is also a canon, sir, forbidding all clergymen to frequent taverns and play at cards; why is not that put in execution?" And he then added, that notwithstanding any canons to the contrary, he could not but speak the things which he knew, and that he was resolved to proceed as usual. His answer was written down, and the chancellor closed the interview with the words, "I am resolved, sir, if you preach or expound anywhere in this diocese till you have a license, I will first suspend, and then excommunicate you." The crisis was now come; the Rubicon had been passed, and the inquiry might well be made, "What will Whitefield now do?"

Already have we seen that he had earnestly desired, in London, to preach in the open air, for want of room in the churches, and indeed also from the opposition of the clergy, which had begun so strongly to manifest itself; and during this journey to Bristol, he found it necessary to preach in the open air or not at all. As this event was of vast importance in its results, both in his own history and that of Mr. Wesley, who also began to preach on the same spot within two months after Whitefield had opened the way, we must stay a while to narrate the facts.

At that time, the colliers of Kingswood, near the city of Bristol, were a most depraved and reckless class of men. Inconceivably barbarous and ignorant, they trampled on all laws, human and divine, and hesitated not to set the magistrates at defiance. It was dangerous to pass near the scene of their labors, even in open day, for robberies and murders were of frequent occurrence; in a word, it was truly "a seat of Satan." When Whitefield was at Bristol, making collections for his projected orphan institution in Georgia, not a few persons had said to him, "Why go abroad; have we not Indians enough at home? If you have a mind to convert Indians, there are colliers enough in Kingswood." "I thought," says he, "it might be doing the service of my Creator, who had a mountain for his pulpit, and the heavens for his sounding-board, and who, when his gospel was refused by the Jews, sent his servants into the highways and hedges." After much prayer and many inward struggles, he went one day to a gentle elevation on the south side of Kingswood, called Hanham Mount, and there, under an old sycamore-tree, he preached his first sermon in the open air to about a hundred colliers. The scene must have been very impressive. Before him stretched the rich and beautiful valley of the Avon, through which the river was gently winding, bordered in the distance by the undulating hills; while on his right and left the cities of Bath and Bristol were within sight.

The fact of his preaching here soon and extensively spread, and at meeting after meeting his audience increased, till he found himself addressing nearly twenty thousand persons. His own account of the effects produced is very striking. He says, "The first discovery of their being affected, was in the white gutters made by their tears, which plentifully fell down their black cheeks, as they came out of their coal pits. Hundreds and hundreds of them were soon brought under deep convictions, which happily ended in sound and thorough conversion. As the scene was quite new, and I had just begun to be an extempore preacher, I had often many inward conflicts. Sometimes, when twenty thousand people were before me, I had not, as I thought, a word to say; but I was never deserted; and I was often so assisted as to understand what that meaneth, 'Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.' The open firmament above; the prospect of the adjacent fields; with the sight of thousands and thousands, some in coaches, some on horseback, and some in the trees, and all so affected as to be drenched in tears together, to which sometimes was added the solemnity of the approaching night, were almost too much for me; I was occasionally all but overcome." Writing to Mr. Wesley a few weeks afterwards, he says, "Yesterday I began to play the madman in Gloucestershire, by preaching on a table in Thornbury-street. To-day I have exhorted twice, and by and by I shall begin a third time; nothing like doing good by the way. I suppose you have heard of my proceedings in Kingswood."

We scarcely need to remark here, that Kingswood has ever since been regarded as a sacred spot in ecclesiastical history. Here houses for Wesleyan Methodists and Independents were soon erected, and in them thousands have been converted to God. Here was placed the first school for the sons of Methodist preachers, and on Hanham Mount, besides the voice of Whitefield, those of the Wesleys, Coke and Mather, Pawson and Benson, and Bradburn, accomplished some of the mightiest effects which attended their powerful preaching. There are yet some living in the neighborhood who were awakened under their ministry, and whose eyes glisten as they tell of the blessed days that are past.

Besides the colliers, and thousands from the neighboring villages, persons of all ranks daily flocked out of Bristol. And he was soon invited by many of the most respectable people to preach on a large bowling-green in the city itself. Many of the people indeed sneered to see a stripling with a gown mount a table on unconsecrated ground; this even excited once or twice the laugh of some of the higher ranks, who had admired him in the churches. But he was unmoved, and his preaching was so blessed, that many were awakened. Sometimes he was employed almost from morning till night answering those who, in distress of soul, cried out, "What shall I do to be saved?" He now sought the help of Mr. John Wesley, who, after much reasoning with himself on the subject, complied with the invitation, and followed Whitefield's example, who immediately committed the work to him. Before leaving the neighborhood, however, Whitefield had the satisfaction of laying the foundation of a school for Kingswood; for the support of which the colliers liberally and cheerfully subscribed.

Taking an affectionate leave of his Bristol friends, Whitefield made an excursion into Wales, where a revival of religion had commenced several years before, under the ministry of the Rev. Griffith Jones, and was now carried on by the ministry of Mr. Howel Harris, a man of strong mental powers, great Christian zeal, and considerable learning. They met at Cardiff. Whitefield's heart was then glowing with the fire he had himself kindled at Bristol and Kingswood. On his way from Bristol to Cardiff, he was delayed at the New Passage by contrary winds. He says, "At the inn there was an unhappy clergyman who would not go over in the passage-boat, because I was in it. Alas, thought I, this very temper would make heaven itself unpleasant to that man, if he saw me there. I was told that he charged me with being a dissenter. I saw him, soon after, shaking his elbows over a gaming-table. I heartily wish those who charge me causelessly with schism and being righteous overmuch, would consider that the canons of our church forbid the clergy to frequent taverns, or to play at cards or dice, or any other unlawful games. Their indulging themselves in these things is a stumbling-block to thousands."

We have said that Whitefield first met Howel Harris at Cardiff. After preaching in the town-hall, from the judges' seat, he says, "I was much refreshed with the sight of Mr. Howel Harris; whom, though I knew not in person, I have long loved, and have often felt my soul drawn out in prayer in his behalf… When I first saw him, my heart was knit closely to him. I wanted to catch some of his fire, and gave him the right hand of fellowship with my whole heart. After I had saluted him, and given an exhortation to a great number of people, who followed me to the inn, we spent the remainder of the evening in taking sweet counsel together, and telling one another what God had done for our souls. A divine and strong sympathy seemed to be between us, and I was resolved to promote his interest with all my might. Accordingly we took an account of the several societies, and agreed on such measures as seemed most conducive to promote the common interest of our Lord. Blessed be God, there seems a noble spirit gone out into Wales; and I believe that, ere long, there will be more visible fruits of it. What inclines me strongly to think so is, that the partition wall of bigotry and party spirit is broken down, and ministers and teachers of different communions join, with one heart and one mind, to carry on the kingdom of Jesus Christ. The Lord make all the Christian world thus minded; for, until this is done, we must, I fear, despair of any great reformation in the church of God."

Before leaving Cardiff, Whitefield preached again in the town-hall, to a large assembly. He says, "My dear brother Harris sat close by me. I did not observe any scoffers within; but without, some were pleased to honor me so far as to trail a dead fox, and hunt it about the hall. But, blessed be God, my voice prevailed. This being done, I went, with many of my hearers, among whom were two worthy dissenting ministers, to public worship; and in the second lesson were these remarkable words: 'The high-priests, and the scribes, and the chief of the people sought to destroy him; but they could not find what they might do to him; for all the people were very attentive to hear him.'

"In the afternoon I preached again, without any disturbance or scoffing. In the evening, I talked for above an hour and a half with the religious society, and never did I see a congregation more melted down. The love of Jesus touched them to the quick. Most of them were dissolved in tears. They came to me after, weeping, bidding me farewell, and wishing I could continue with them longer. Thanks be to God, for such an entrance into Wales. I wrestled with God for them in prayer, and blessed be His holy name for sending me into Wales. I hope these are the first-fruits of a greater harvest, if ever it should please God to bring me back from Georgia. 'Father, thy will be done.'"

Whitefield returned from this short excursion, to Bristol, baptized with Welsh fire, and renewed his labors among the Kingswood colliers with more than his usual power and success. He could not, however, forget the tears which had entreated him to stay longer in Wales, and in three or four weeks he visited Usk and Pontypool, where he was again met by Howel Harris. At Usk, "the pulpit being denied, I preached upon a table, under a large tree, to some hundreds, and God was with us of a truth. On my way to Pontypool, I was informed by a man who heard it, that Counsellor H – did me the honor to make a public motion to Judge P – to stop me and brother Howel Harris from going about teaching the people. Poor man, he put me in mind of Tertullus, in the Acts; but my hour is not yet come. I have scarcely begun my testimony. For my finishing it, my enemies must have power over me from above. Lord, prepare me for that hour."

The report to which we have just referred did not prevent the curate of Pontypool from cordially inviting Whitefield into his pulpit. He also read prayers for him. After the sermon, it was found that so many had come to hear who could not find room in the church, that another sermon was loudly called for. He says, "I went and preached to all the people in the field. I always find I have most power when I preach in the open air; a proof to me that God is pleased with this way of preaching. I betook myself to rest, full of such unutterable peace as no one can conceive of but those who feel it."

In several other places did our evangelist, during this excursion, unfurl the banner of the cross; and at its close he writes, "Oh how swiftly this week has glided away. To me it has been but as one day. How do I pity those who complain that time hangs on their hands! Let them but love Christ, and spend their whole time in his service, and they will find but few melancholy hours." Nor will any wonder that he should thus speak, who consider the spirit which animated his soul. What he some time afterwards wrote to Howel Harris, from Philadelphia, indicated the spirit he himself cherished: "Intersperse prayers with your exhortations, and thereby call down fire from heaven, even the fire of the Holy Ghost,

"'To soften, sweeten, and refine,

And melt them into love.'

Speak every time, my dear brother, as if it were your last; weep out, if possible, every argument, and compel them to cry, 'Behold how he loveth us.'"

From Wales, Whitefield went to visit his native city, Gloucester; and after one or two sermons, he found himself here also excluded from the parochial pulpits. But notwithstanding his persecutions, and the infirm state of his health at that time, his labors in Gloucester and its vicinity were constant and eminently successful. Bowling-greens, market-crosses, highways, and other such places, bore witness to his faithful and tearful labors.

At Gloucester lived at that time the Rev. Mr. Cole, an old dissenting minister, who often heard Whitefield preach, and used to say, "These are the days of the Son of man indeed!" Whitefield, when a boy, had been taught to ridicule this Mr. Cole; and when he was once asked what profession he would engage in, replied, "I will be a minister, but I will take care never to tell stories in the pulpit like old Cole." Twelve years afterwards, the old minister heard the young one preach, and tell some story to illustrate his subject, when the venerable servant of Christ remarked, "I find young Whitefield can tell stories now as well as old Cole." The good man was much affected with the preaching of his young friend, and was so humble, that he used to subscribe himself his curate, and went about in the country preaching after him. One evening, while preaching, he was struck with death, and asked for a chair to lean on till he had finished his sermon. Having done this, he was carried up stairs and died. When the fact was told to Whitefield, he said, "O blessed God, if it be thy holy will, may my exit be like his!" How striking is this fact when looked at in connection with the circumstances of his own removal from earth.

Intent on the advancement of his orphan-house in Georgia, Whitefield soon went to London, passing on his way through Oxford. At both places he found opposition, and in London was shut out of the churches. He preached to thousands in Islington churchyard, and now resolved to give himself to the work in the open air.

From the conflict with the enemies who a few years before had threatened her existence, the polemics of the church of England now turned to resist the unwelcome ally who menaced her repose. Bishop Warburton led the van, and behind him many a mitred front scowled on the audacious innovator. Divested of the logomachies which chiefly engaged the attention of the disputants, the controversy between Whitefield and the bishops lay in a narrow compass. It being mutually conceded that the virtues of the Christian life can result only from certain divine impulses, and that to lay a claim to this holy inspiration when its legitimate fruits are wanting, is a fatal delusion, he maintained, and they denied, that the person who is the subject of this sacred influence has within his own bosom an independent attestation of its reality. So abstruse a debate required the zest of some more pungent ingredients, and the polemics with whom Whitefield had to do were not such sciolists in their calling as to be ignorant of the necessity of riveting upon him some epithet at once opprobrious and vague. While therefore milder spirits arraigned him as an enthusiast, Warburton, with constitutional energy of invective, denounced him as a fanatic. In vain Whitefield demanded a definition of these reproachful terms. To have fixed their meaning would have been to blunt their edge. They afforded a solution, at once compendious, obscure, and repulsive, of whatever was remarkable in his character, and have been associated with his name from that time to the present.

The spots on which Whitefield now began, in his own language, "to take the field," and publicly to erect the standard of the Redeemer's cross, are well known. Moorfields, then a place of general rendezvous and recreation from the crowded city, Kennington Common then about two, and Blackheath about five miles from London, were the favorite sites to which he loved to resort, and "open his mouth boldly" to listening thousands, in honor of his crucified and glorified Lord. Recording his first engagement of this kind in his diary of Sabbath evening, April 29, 1739, he writes, "Begun to be yet more vile this day, for I preached at Moorfields to an exceeding great multitude; and at five in the evening went and preached at Kennington Common, where upwards of twenty thousand were supposed to be present. The wind being for me, it carried my voice to the extreme part of my audience. All stood attentive, and joined in the psalm and the Lord's prayer so regularly, that I scarce ever preached with more quietness in a church. Many were much affected.

 
"'For this let men revile my name,
I'll shun no cross, I'll fear no shame;
All hail, reproach, and welcome pain,
Only thy terrors, Lord, restrain.'"
 

For several successive months, the places we have named were his chief scenes of action. At a moderate computation, the audience frequently consisted of twenty thousand. It is said that the singing could be heard two miles, and the voice of the preacher nearly one. Sometimes there were upwards of a hundred coaches, besides wagons, scaffolds, and other contrivances by which a sight of him could be obtained. The rising ground on Blackheath, from which Whitefield preached, is still known as "Whitefield's mount," and after his death, Lord Dartmouth planted it with fir-trees. It will ever be a grateful recollection to the author of this volume, that during the summer of 1839 he prevailed on some of the most eminent ministers of England to preach on every successive Monday evening on this hallowed spot; and that here many thousands then heard the way of salvation, and not a few were brought to the cross of Christ. In that immediate neighborhood too, now densely populated, he organized, and for some years preached to a Christian church. Memorable times! Many were the manifestations of the Redeemer's favor.

An anecdote which we heard many years ago from one of Whitefield's Blackheath hearers, may here be related. While one day preaching on "the heath," there passed along the road at some distance, an old man and "Mary" his wife, with their ass and his loaded panniers, returning from London to their home in Kent. Attracted alike by the crowd and the preacher's voice, the old man and his wife turned a little out of their way to hear "what the man was talking about." Whitefield spoke of somewhat which occurred eighteen hundred years ago, and the old man said, "Mary, come along, it is only something which happened a long while ago;" but Mary's attention had been arrested, and she wished to stay a minute or two longer. They were both soon in tears, and the inquiry was excited in their hearts, "What shall we do to be saved?" On their way home, while "talking of all these things," the old man recollected his neglected Bible, and asked, "Why, Mary, does not our old book at home say somewhat about these things?" They went home, and examined the old book with new light. "Why, Mary," asked the old man, "is this indeed our old book? why, every thing in it seems quite new." So true is it, that the teaching of the Spirit gives new discernment as to the truths of divine revelation.

A fact strikingly illustrating the children's love to our evangelist may be here mentioned. In his open-air preachings, especially in and about London, he was usually attended by many of them, who sat round him, in and about the pulpit, and handed to him the notes of those who desired his counsels and prayers. These children were exposed to the missiles with which he was often assailed, but however terrified they might be, or even hurt, they seldom shrunk; "but," says he, "on the contrary, every time I was struck, they turned up their little weeping eyes, and seemed to wish they could receive the blows for me."

Speaking of his open-air labors, the devoted preacher says, "Words cannot express the displays of divine grace which we saw, and heard of, and felt. Lord, not unto me, but unto thy name be all the glory." On a subsequent occasion he writes, "We have had a glorious season, a true Easter. Jesus Christ is risen indeed. I have been preaching in Moorfields, and our Saviour carries all before us. Nothing can resist his conquering blood. It would have delighted you to see poor sinners flock from the booths to see Jesus lifted up on the pole of the gospel." The climax of his success there, is one of the most remarkable letters that ever came from a mortal's pen. He records at its close, "We then retired to the Tabernacle, with my pockets full of notes from persons brought under concern, and read them amidst the praises and spiritual acclamations of thousands, who joined with the holy angels in rejoicing that so many sinners were snatched, in such an unexpected, unlikely place and manner, out of the very jaws of the devil. This was the beginning of the Tabernacle society. Three hundred and fifty awakened souls were received in one day; and I believe the number of notes exceeded a thousand. But I must have done, believing you want to retire, to join in mutual praise with me in thanksgiving to God and the Lamb."

Having thus introduced the name of the Tabernacle, it is important that the reader should be acquainted with the origin of the buildings which have borne that name. From the very first of what may be called his irregular labors, Whitefield always declared that he "would never be the founder of a sect." He kept his word; yet two London churches remain as his memorial – the Tabernacle, and Tottenham Court-road chapel, the one in the north, and the other in the western part of the metropolis. The Tabernacle, which was first erected, was his more especial and favorite field of labor, and he dwelt in the house adjoining it, which is still the pastoral residence.

Moorfields, just without the limits of the old north city wall of London, was, a few years before Whitefield first knew it, a marsh, and during the greater part of the year, was absolutely impassable. Having been partially drained, a brick kiln was erected, and the first bricks used in London are said to have been manufactured there. Afterwards it was a field for the practice of archery, when it was laid out in walks, and called the City Mall. Though improved in name and appearance, it became the rallying ground for the rabble of London; wrestlers, boxers, and mountebanks, the idle, the dissolute, and the profane, held here their daily and nightly revels. It appeared, in fact, to be one of the strong-holds of Satan, and therefore became a most tempting and important point of attack for the daring eloquence of Whitefield. All London rang one day with the announcement that Whitefield would preach the day following at Moorfields.

This was in January, 1739. Gillies says, "The thing being strange and new, he found, on coming out of the coach, an incredible number of people assembled. Many told him that he would never come out of that place alive. He went in, however, between two friends, who by the pressure of the crowd were soon parted from him entirely, and obliged to leave him to the mercy of the rabble. But these, instead of hurting him, formed a lane for him, and carried him along to the middle of the fields, where a table had been placed. This, however, having been broken by the crowd, he mounted a wall, and preached to an exceeding great multitude in tones so melting, that his words drew tears and groans from the most abandoned of his hearers. Moorfields became henceforth one of the principal scenes of his triumphs. Thirty thousand people sometimes gathered together to hear him, and generous contributions here poured in for his orphan-house at Bethesda. On one occasion twenty pounds – about one hundred dollars – were received in half-pennies, more than one person was able to carry away, and enough to put one out of conceit with a specie currency."

It was not till his fifth visit to London, in March, 1741, that Whitefield ventured to preach in Moorfields on a week-day; the day selected for this bold action being Good-Friday. His chief, if not his only friends on this occasion, he tells us, were a few "orthodox dissenters." These people perceiving the inconvenience to which he was subjected by the weather, during the morning and evening services in Moorfields, procured the loan of a piece of ground, and employed a carpenter to build a large temporary shed, to screen the auditory from the cold and rain. This building Whitefield called a "tabernacle," as it was only intended to be used a few months during his stay in his native country, previous to his return to America. Providence, however, had otherwise determined, and this proved the commencement of a permanent establishment of the means of grace. A great spiritual awakening took place; congregations became very large, acquiring at the same time considerable cohesion, and assuming a stationary character. This original fabric of wood was a place of large dimensions; and notwithstanding its rude aspect and temporary design, it sufficed for the accommodation of Whitefield and his flock, during the twelve succeeding years – a period the most brilliant and useful of his extraordinary career.

Some of Whitefield's friends, however, did not approve of the original wooden structure; and anticipating or desiring the formation of a Christian church, they called for the immediate erection of a substantial brick building, a point which was debated with a warmth approaching to violence, of which Whitefield makes pathetic mention seven years afterwards. Here then several important facts are established: that the original tabernacle sprang not from Whitefield, but from a voluntary movement among his adherents, composed chiefly, if not wholly, of Protestant dissenters; that the expense was borne not by him, but by them; that much debate and dissension attended the measure, proving the thoroughly free and popular character of the original movement; and that, as the edifice originated with the people alone, so did the institution of regular worship. It is certain that fears existed in the mind of Whitefield as to the success of such an organization; but the results most happily disappointed his expectations.

The subject of the erection of a more spacious edifice in the place of the tabernacle of wood, was first discussed at the mansion of Lady Huntingdon, in Leicestershire, when Drs. Doddridge and Stonehouse, and the Rev. Messrs. Hervey and Whitefield happened to meet together, in the summer of 1751. During the following winter, Whitefield began to make collections for the object, and on almost its first presentation in London, nine hundred pounds, or four thousand five hundred dollars, were subscribed. "But," he says, "on the principle that burned children dread the fire, I do not mean to begin until I get one thousand in hand, and then to contract at a certain sum for the whole." The fact was, that Whitefield had often been in great straits for the support of his orphan-house in Georgia, "for I forgot," he says, "that Professor Francke built in Glaucha, in a populous country, and that I was building at the very tail of the world." In March, 1753, he wrote to Mr. Charles Wesley, "On Tuesday morning the first brick of our new Tabernacle was laid with awful solemnity. I preached from Exodus 20:24, 'In all places where I record my name, I will come unto thee, and I will bless thee.' The wall is now about a yard high. The building is to be eighty feet square. It is on the old spot. We have bought the house, and if we finish what we have begun, shall be rent free for forty-six years." In June the dedicatory services took place, when the Tabernacle, though capable, with its capacious galleries, of holding four thousand people, was crowded almost to suffocation. Often have we seen this vast building crowded with worshippers, with delight have we occupied its pulpit, and with devout gratitude do we record, that never for a moment has the frown of heaven rested upon it. Thousands will ever bless God for its erection.

Not unfrequently has the question been discussed, to what denomination of Christians does the Tabernacle really belong? In answer to this question, we give a legal document which may also show what is done in reference to houses of worship in England, under the laws for the maintenance of religious toleration.

"These are to certifie whom it may Concern, that a Certificate bearing date the Eighteenth Day of June, in the year of Our Lord One Thousand Seven Hundred and Sixty-four, under the Hands of Starkey Myddleton Minister, Robert Keen, Thomas Cox, Samuel Grace, Robert Hodgson, James Smith, Thomas Robinson, Benjamin Coles, Thomas Brooks, and Samuel Lockhart, for appropriating and setting apart a Certain Building for that purpose erected, situate near the Barking Dogs in the Parish of Saint Luke in the County of Middlesex, and intended for the meeting place of a certain Congregation of Protestant Dissenters from the Church of England, calling themselves Independents, was Registered in the Registry of the Dean and Chapter of the Cathedral Church of Saint Paul, London, This Twenty-first Day of June in the year of Our Lord One Thousand Seven Hundred and Sixty-four.

"THOMAS COLLINS, Deputy Registrar."

While the new Tabernacle was in the course of erection, Whitefield visited Norwich, where his ministry was largely attended, and notwithstanding much opposition, was followed with considerable success. Writing to his friend Keen, he says, "How does God delight to exceed even the hopes, and to disappoint the fears of his weak, though honest-hearted people. In spite of all opposition, he hath caused us to triumph even in Norwich. Thousands attend twice every day, and hear with the greatest eagerness. I hope it will appear yet more and more that God hath much people here." Compelled by alarming illness, the result of his too much preaching, he suddenly returned to London, from whence he thus wrote to one of the converts at Norwich: "I shall little regard the weakness and indisposition of my body, if I can but have the pleasure of hearing, if not before, yet at the great day, that good was done to one precious soul at Norwich. Blessed be God for the seed sown there. I doubt not but it will be watered with the dew of his heavenly blessing, and bring forth a divine increase."

Truly the gospel did triumph, not only in the erection of the Tabernacle in that city, but in preparing sinners to be pillars in the temple of God, and to win others to his service.

Among other converts won at Norwich, was the afterwards popular and useful minister of Christ, the Rev. Robert Robinson, of Cambridge, England. When a young man, about eighteen, he resided in that city, and was engaged in the business of a barber. When he was walking one morning with several companions who had agreed that day to take their pleasure, the first object which attracted their attention was an old woman who pretended to tell fortunes. They immediately employed her to tell theirs, and that they might qualify her for the undertaking, first made her thoroughly intoxicated. Robinson was informed, among other things, that he would live to a very old age, and see his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren growing up around him. Though he had assisted in intoxicating the old woman, he had credulity enough to be struck with those parts of the prediction which related to himself. "And so," said he when alone, "I am to see children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. At that age I must be a burden to the young people. What shall I do? There is no way for an old man to render himself more agreeable to youth, than by sitting and telling them pleasant and profitable stories. I will then," thought he, "during my youth, endeavor to store my mind with all kinds of knowledge. I will see and hear, and note down every thing that is rare and wonderful, that I may sit, when incapable of other employments, and entertain my descendants. Thus shall my company be rendered pleasant, and I shall be respected, rather than neglected, in old age. Let me see, what can I acquire first? Oh, here is the famous Methodist preacher, Whitefield; he is to preach here, they say, to-night; I will go and hear him."

From these strange motives, as he told the celebrated Rev. Andrew Fuller, he went to hear Whitefield preach. That evening his text was, "But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees come to his baptism, he said unto them, O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" Matt. 3:7. "Mr. Whitefield," said Robinson, "described the Sadducees' character; this did not touch me; I thought myself as good a Christian as any man in England. From this he went to that of the Pharisees. He described their exterior decency, but observed, that the poison of the viper rankled in their hearts. This rather shook me. At length, in the course of his sermon, he abruptly broke off; paused for a few moments; then burst into a flood of tears, lifted up his hands and eyes, and exclaimed, 'Oh, my hearers, the wrath's to come! the wrath's to come!' These words sunk into my heart like lead in the water; I wept, and when the sermon was ended retired alone. For days and weeks I could think of little else. Those awful words would follow me wherever I went: 'The wrath's to come! The wrath's to come!'"

Scarcely had Whitefield completed the Tabernacle in London, before he was earnestly solicited to hold public services at the west end of the city, and Long-Acre chapel, then under the charge of a dissenter, was offered for his use. An unruly rabble endeavored to drive the preacher from his post; but a running fire of brickbats, broken glass, bells, drums, and clappers, neither annoyed nor frightened the intrepid evangelist; nor did an interference on the part of the hierarchy, which followed soon after, prohibiting his preaching in an incorporated chapel. "I hope you will not look on it as contumacy," said Whitefield to the bishop, "if I persist in prosecuting my design until I am more particularly apprized wherein I have erred. I trust the irregularity I am charged with will appear justifiable to every lover of English liberty, and what is all to me, be approved at the awful and impartial tribunal of the great Bishop and Shepherd of souls." Writing to Lady Huntingdon, he says, "My greatest distress is so to act as to avoid rashness on the one hand and timidity on the other;" and this shows, what indeed was proved in his whole life, an entire absence of that malignant element of fanaticism which courts opposition and revels in it.

"Determined," as Mrs. Knight says, in her beautiful volume, "Lady Huntingdon and her Friends," "not to be beaten from his ground, yet hoping to escape some of its annoyances, Whitefield resolved to build a chapel of his own. Hence arose Tottenham Court-road chapel, which went by the name of 'Whitefield's soul-trap.'" Admirably does he say, "I pray the Friend of sinners to make it a soul-trap indeed to many wandering creatures. My constant work is preaching fifteen times a week. Conviction and conversion go on here, for God hath met us in our new building." It was completed and dedicated in November, 1756. Though not equal in its triumphs to the Tabernacle, the congregation has always been large, and its preachers – always the same as those at the Tabernacle – have not labored in vain. In 1829, '30, improvements were made in the building, which still, however, contains Whitefield's pulpit. A vast area in the centre was originally filled with plain seats, where the masses of the people were accommodated free of all pew rent.

Let not infidels tell us, that the religion of these men and of those times was mere enthusiasm, and that the temporal interests of men were neglected in professions of high regard for those of a spiritual character. Let such men know that within two years of the opening of Tottenham Court-road chapel, not only did the congregation build a parsonage-house for their minister, but twelve almshouses for as many poor widows. The Tabernacle has always acted with equal generosity. In proportion to their means, few congregations in the world have exceeded these two in works of benevolence.

Assuredly what has sometimes been charged on evangelical ministers – that they attend to the spiritual interests of mankind, but neglect their temporal sufferings – would never apply to Mr. Whitefield. No sooner had he completed these large edifices, where vast congregations assembled, than he was heard frequently to plead for those laboring under oppression or distress in foreign lands. He preached in both these houses in behalf of the poor French Protestants in Prussia, who had suffered much from the cruelty of the Russians, when great numbers of the nobility, and some of the highest officers of the crown went to hear him. The collections for this object amounted to upwards of fifteen hundred pounds, or seven thousand five hundred dollars; and for this disinterested act of benevolence Whitefield received the thanks of his Prussian Majesty.

Again, on the day recommended by the government for a general fast, Mr. Whitefield preached both at the Tabernacle and at Tottenham Court-road chapel, after which he collected five hundred and sixty pounds for the relief of the German Protestants, and the sufferers by fire at Boston, for which he received the unanimous thanks of the inhabitants of that town. Lady Huntingdon wrote to one of her friends, "It would delight you to have seen what crowds of the mighty and noble flocked to hear him. The collection was for the relief of the poor German Protestants. I invited several to come who probably would not attend his ministry on other occasions." Few places at that time could boast of such a constellation of transcendent genius and senatorial talent, such a brilliant assemblage of wisdom, magnanimity, and oratorical powers, as were then found within these houses of the living God.

One word may be allowed here on the plain architecture of these buildings. "We are," says the excellent Mr. James, "in many things improved, and I rejoice in the improvement; but the occasion of my joy is at the same time the occasion of my fear and my jealousy also. Our ecclesiastical architecture is just now a special object of our attention. Whitefield, it may be confessed, paid too little attention to this; we, perhaps, are paying too much. His only solicitude was to save souls, careless altogether of the tastefulness of the building within which that work, which has no relation to styles of architecture, was carried on. His only calculation in the construction of a building was, how many immortal souls could be crowded within four square walls, and under a roof, to hear 'the joyful sound.' Hence the somewhat uncouth buildings which he erected. Ah, but when I consider that every stone in those unsightly walls has echoed to the sound of salvation and the hymns of redeemed spirits, and that almost every spot on the floor has been moistened by the tears of penitence, then, in a feeling of sanctity I seem to lose the sense of deformity, and there comes over me an awe and solemnity which no modern gothic structure with its lofty arches and painted windows can inspire. But still, as religion is not only the most holy, but the most beautiful thing in God's universe, there is no reason why taste and devotion should not be united. It is the ministry of the word, however, upon which the church must be chiefly intent."

CHAPTER IV.
WHITEFIELD'S SECOND VISIT TO AMERICA.
1739, 1740

As in the preceding chapter, for the sake of connecting the history of Whitefield's church edifices in London, we have anticipated the order of events, we go back to the period shortly before his second voyage to America.

About the time of which we are now writing, a circumstance occurred of deep interest, which Whitefield relates at considerable length. Joseph Periam, a young man in London, who had read his sermon on "regeneration," became deeply impressed by it; he sold all that he possessed, and prayed so loud and fasted so long, that his family supposed him deranged, and sent him to the Bedlam madhouse, where he was treated as "methodistically mad," and as "one of Whitefield's gang." The keepers threw him down, and forced a key into his mouth, while they drenched him with medicine. He was then placed in a cold room without windows, and with a damp cellar under it. Periam, however, found some means of conveying a letter to Whitefield, requesting both advice and a visit. These were promptly given. The preacher soon discovered that Periam was not mad; and taking a Mr. Seward and some other friends with him, he went before the committee of the hospital to explain the case. It must have been somewhat of a ludicrous scene. Seward so astounded the committee by quoting Scripture, that they pronounced him to be as mad as Periam. The doctors frankly told the deputation, that in their opinion, Whitefield and his followers were "really beside themselves." It was however agreed, that if Whitefield would take Periam out to Georgia, his release would be granted. Thus the conference ended, and the young man went out as a schoolmaster at the Orphan-house. There he was exemplary and useful, and when he died two of his sons were received into the institution.

Mr. Whitefield so successfully pleaded the cause of his American orphans, that during his journeys of twelve months he collected upwards of one thousand pounds towards the erection of his intended house for their accommodation. With this sum in his possession, he set sail for America the second time, August 14, 1739, accompanied by his friend Mr. Seward, eight men, one boy, and two children.

While all this was going on, the inhabitants of Georgia were making every possible preparation for his reception. The records of the trustees say, May 16, 1739, "Read a commission to the Rev. George Whitefield to perform all religious and ecclesiastical offices at Savannah, in Georgia." Again: "June 2, 1739. Sealed a grant of five hundred acres of land to the Rev. George Whitefield, in trust for the use of the house to be erected and maintained for the receiving such children as now are, and shall hereafter be left orphans in the colony of Georgia, in pursuance of the direction of the Common Council held the 30th of last month."

Not only was Whitefield anxious to establish the orphan-house for the benefit of the whole colony of Georgia, but having been ordained priest, for the purpose of instructing the inhabitants of the town of Savannah, he was desirous of making full proof of his ministry among them. After a passage of nine weeks he landed at Philadelphia, and was immediately invited to preach in the churches; to which people of all denominations thronged as in England. He was especially pleased to find that they preferred sermons when "not delivered within the church walls." And it was well they did, for his fame had arrived in the city before him, and crowds were collected to hear him which no church could contain.

A letter written on this voyage to America has recently come to light, which beautifully illustrates the spirit by which Whitefield was now animated. It was addressed to the Rev. John Cumming of Andover, Hampshire, England.

"Wrote at Sea, dated at Philadelphia, Nov. 9, 1739.

"Reverend and dear Sir – You see by my writing this how willing I am to cultivate a correspondence with you. I wish Christians in general, and ministers of Christ in particular, were better acquainted. The cause of Christ thereby must be necessarily promoted. But bigotry and sectarian zeal have been the bane of our holy religion. Though we have one Lord, one faith, and one baptism, yet if we do not all worship God in one particular way, we behave to each other like Jews and Samaritans. Dear sir, I hope that neither of us have so learned Christ. Blessed be God for his free grace in Christ. The partition wall has for some time been broken down out of my heart, and I can truly say, whosoever loves the Lord Jesus, 'the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.' For this reason, dear sir, I love you. For this reason, though I decrease, yet I heartily wish you may increase, even with all the increase of God. I am persuaded you are like-minded. I believe my friends have prayed for me. The Lord hath dealt most lovingly with me his servant. He has chastened and corrected, but hath not given me over into the hands of the enemy. A future journal will acquaint you with particulars. What I have sent over to be published will afford you abundant matter for thanksgiving in behalf of,

"Dear sir, your affectionate friend,

Brother, and servant,

"G. WHITEFIELD."

The old court-house of Philadelphia, then standing on Second and Market streets, had a balcony, which several years before the visit of Whitefield had been often used instead of a pulpit. In 1736, we find that Mr. Abel Noble had preached "from the court-house steps," on a Monday, to a large congregation standing in Market-street, on the subject of keeping the Sabbath. In the same year, Michael Welfare appeared there to give his "warning voice," and now, in 1739, it became one of the favorite preaching stands of the great evangelist. Here he stood, surrounded by many thousands, even down to the side of the Delaware river, not a few bathed in tears, and inquiring after the way of salvation.

Dr. Franklin says, "The multitudes of all sects and denominations that attended his sermons were enormous; and it was a matter of speculation with me to observe the influence of his oratory on his hearers, and how much they admired and respected him, notwithstanding his common abuse of them, by assuring them that they were, naturally, half beasts and half devils. It was wonderful to see the change soon made in the manners of our inhabitants. From being thoughtless and indifferent about religion, it seemed as if all the world was growing religious; so that one could not walk through the town in an evening without hearing psalms sung in different families in every street."

A constant attendant on his ministry at this time says, "His hearers were never weary; every eye was fixed on his expressive countenance; every ear was charmed with his melodious voice; every heart captivated with the beauty and propriety of his address. He was no contracted bigot; all denominations partook of his religious charity. Anxious in America for our civil privileges, he was alike solicitous for the spiritual and temporal happiness of mankind. No man since the apostolic age preached oftener or with better success. He was, moreover, a polite gentleman, a faithful friend, an engaging companion, and a sincere Christian. His sermons in the open air lasted about one and a half hours."

Watson, in his "Annals of Philadelphia," speaking of Whitefield's first visit to that city, tells us that he preached to a crowd of fifteen thousand persons on Society hill, and adds, "About the same time he so far succeeded to repress the usual public amusements, that the dancing-school was discontinued, and the ball and concert rooms were shut up, as inconsistent with the requisitions of the gospel. No less than fourteen sermons were preached on Society hill in the open air in one week, during the session of the Presbyterian church; and the gazette of the day, in noticing the fact, says, 'The change to religion here is altogether surprising, through the influence of Whitefield; no books sell but religious, and such is the general conversation.'"

It is said, that though some gentlemen broke open the assembly-rooms, no company could be induced to visit them. Such was the popularity of Whitefield, that when he left the city, about one hundred and fifty gentlemen accompanied him as far as Chester, fifteen miles from Philadelphia, where he preached to about seven thousand people. At White Clay creek, he preached to eight thousand people, three thousand of whom, it is said, were on horseback. Many complimentary effusions to him appeared in the newspapers, and James Pemberton, a very distinguished Friend, said of him, "In his conversation he is very agreeable, and has not much of the priest; he frequents no set company."

An old gentleman assured Watson, the annalist, that on one occasion the words, "And he taught them, saying," as pronounced by Whitefield on Society hill, were heard at Gloucester point, a distance by water of two miles.

Abundant reasons might be assigned for our introducing in this place an account of the institution called "the Log college." It has proved the parent of every collegiate and theological institution connected with the large and wealthy body of Presbyterians in this country; it was originated by a family which became especially endeared to Mr. Whitefield; and from his journal, recording his visit to it, we have, in some respects at least, the clearest statement of facts concerning it which history has preserved.

As we have already shown, about one hundred and forty years ago, the state of religion, both in Europe and America, was very low. Nor was the condition of the Presbyterian body an exception. As the late Dr. Alexander, in his interesting volume, called "The Log College," says, "The ministers composing the Presbyterian church in this country were sound in the faith, and strongly attached to the Westminster confession of faith and catechisms, as were also their people; and there were no diversities or contentions among them respecting the doctrines of the gospel; but as to the vital power of godliness, there is reason to believe that it was little known or spoken of. Revivals of religion were nowhere heard of, and an orthodox creed, and a decent external conduct were the only points on which inquiry was made, when persons were admitted to the communion of the church. Indeed, it was very much a matter of course, for all who had been baptized in infancy, to be received into communion at the proper age, without exhibiting or possessing any satisfactory evidence of a change of heart by the supernatural operations of the Holy Spirit. And the habit of their preachers was to address their people as though they were all pious, and only needed instruction and confirmation."

Such was the lamentable state of things when the Rev. William Tennent, sen., an Irish clergyman past the middle stage of life arrived in this country, about the year 1716. After laboring for a season in the state of New York, till about 1721, he received an invitation to settle at Bensalem, where he ministered to the small Presbyterian congregation till 1726, when he was called to Neshaminy, in the same county, where he labored for the rest of his life, living till 1746, when he died, aged seventy-three. In Neshaminy the good man felt that he was called not only to discharge the duties of a preacher and pastor, but to look over the whole country, and to devise means for the extension of the cause of Christ. He had himself four sons, the subjects of divine grace, and blessed with talents for usefulness in the kingdom of the Redeemer, and he felt that when other young men rose up in the church, favored with ministerial talents, they also would need mental cultivation. Hence his determination to erect the humble building of which we now write, which was the first Presbyterian literary and theological institution in this country, the immediate parent of the college at Princeton, and from which, indeed, all similar institutions emanated.

The site of the Log college is about a mile from Neshaminy creek, where the Presbyterian church has long stood. The ground near and around it lies handsomely to the eye, and the more distant prospect is very beautiful; for while there is a considerable extent of fertile, well-cultivated land, nearly level, the view is bounded to the north and west by a range of hills, which have a very pleasing appearance. Mr. Whitefield has left in his "Journal," the only description we have of the building. "The place," says he, "wherein the young men study now, is in contempt called 'the college.' It is a log-house about twenty feet long, and nearly as many broad; and to me it seemed to resemble the school of the old prophets, for their habitations were mean. That they sought not great things for themselves is plain from these passages of Scripture, wherein we are told that each of them took a beam to build them a house; and that at the feast of the sons of the prophets, one of them put on the pot, while the others went to fetch some herbs out of the field. All that we can say of most of our universities is, they are glorious without. From this despised place, seven or eight worthy ministers of Jesus have lately been sent forth; more are almost ready to be sent, and the foundation is now laying for the instruction of many others."

Of the senior Tennent, the founder of the Log college, little more is known than what we have already given. He was a member of the synod of Philadelphia, who were satisfied with his reasons for leaving the Established church of Ireland, and for several years this body cordially coöperated with him in his zealous labors. Their unity of feeling, however, seems to have declined. This we learn from a passage in Whitefield's "Journal," which also gives us a beautiful view of the good old man. "At my return home, was much comforted by the coming of one Mr. Tennent, an old gray-headed disciple and soldier of Jesus Christ. He keeps an academy about twenty miles from Philadelphia, and has been blest with four gracious sons, three of which have been, and still continue to be eminently useful in the church of Christ. He brought three pious souls along with him, and rejoiced me by letting me know how they had been evil spoken of for their Master's sake. He is a great friend of Mr. Erskine, of Scotland; and as far as I can learn, both he and his sons are secretly despised by the generality of the synod, as Mr. Erskine and his friends are hated by the judicatories of Edinburgh, and as the Methodist preachers, as they are called, are by their brethren in England."

Not long after this, the Log college was visited by Whitefield, who wrote the account we have already given. He also says, under the date of Nov. 29, 1739, "Set out for Neshaminy, twenty miles distant from Trent Town, where old Mr. Tennent lives, and keeps an academy, and where I was to preach to-day, according to appointment. About twelve o'clock, we came thither, and found about three thousand people gathered together in the meeting-house yard. Mr. William Tennent, junior, an eminent servant of Jesus Christ, because we stayed beyond the time appointed, was preaching to them. When I came up, he soon stopped; sung a psalm, and then I began to speak as the Lord gave me utterance. At first, the people seemed unaffected, but in the midst of my discourse, the power of the Lord Jesus came upon me, and I felt such a struggling within myself for the people as I scarce ever felt before. The hearers began to be melted down immediately, and to cry much; and we had good reason to hope the Lord intended good for many. After I had finished, Mr. Gilbert Tennent gave a word of exhortation, to confirm what had been delivered. At the end of his discourse, we sung a psalm, and dismissed the people with a blessing; O that the people may say Amen to it. After our exercises were over, we went to old Mr. Tennent's, who entertained us like one of the ancient patriarchs. His wife, to me seemed like Elizabeth, and he like Zachary; both, as far as I can learn, walk in the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless. Though God was pleased to humble my soul, so that I was obliged to retire for a while, yet we had sweet communion with each other, and spent the evening in concerting what measures had best be taken for promoting our dear Lord's kingdom. It happened very providentially that Mr. Tennent and his brethren are appointed to be a presbytery by the synod, so that they intend bringing up gracious youths, and sending them out from time to time into the Lord's vineyard."

We may be permitted to add here, that among the ministers sent out by Mr. Tennent, from the Log college, to preach the gospel, were his four sons, Gilbert, William, John, and Charles, the Rev. Messrs. Samuel Blair, John Blair, Charles Beatty, and Rev. Dr. Samuel J. Finley, President of Princeton College; of some of these excellent men the reader will hear again in the course of this volume.

"He is certainly a finished preacher. A noble negligence ran through his style. The passion and flame of his expressions will, I trust, be long felt by many. My pen cannot describe his action and gestures, in all their strength and decencies. He appeared to me, in all his discourses, to be very deeply affected and impressed in his own heart. How did that burn and boil within him, when he spake of the things which he had 'made touching the King.' How was his tongue like the pen of a ready writer, touched as with a coal from the altar. With what a flow of words, what a ready profusion of language, did he speak to us upon the great concerns of our souls. In what a flaming light did he set our eternity before us. How earnestly he pressed Christ upon us. How did he move our passions with the constraining love of such a Redeemer. The awe, the silence, the attention which sat upon the face of the great audience, was an argument how he could reign over all their powers. Many thought he spake as never man spake before him. So charmed were the people with his manner of address, that they shut up their shops, forgot their secular business, and laid aside their schemes for the world; and the oftener he preached, the keener edge he seemed to put upon their desires to hear him again.

"How awfully, with what thunder and sound, did he discharge the artillery of heaven upon us. And yet, how could he soften and melt even a soldier of Ulysses with the mercy of God. How close, strong, and pungent were his applications to the conscience; mingling light and heat; pointing the arrows of the Almighty at the hearts of sinners, while he poured in the balm upon the wounds of the contrite, and made broken bones rejoice. Eternal themes, the tremendous solemnities of our religion, were all alive upon his tongue. So, methinks – if you will forgive the figure – St. Paul would look and speak in a pulpit. In some such manner, I am tempted to conceive of a seraph, were he sent down to preach among us, and to tell us what things he had seen and heard above.

How bold and courageous did he look. He was no flatterer; he would not suffer men to settle on their lees; and did not prophesy smooth things, nor sew pillows under their arms. He taught the way of God in truth, and regarded not the persons of men. He struck at the politest and most modish of our vices, and at the most fashionable entertainments, regardless of every one's presence, but His in whose name he spoke with this authority. And I dare warrant, if none should go to these diversions until they have answered the solemn questions he put to their consciences, our theatre would soon sink and perish. I freely own he has taken my heart."

CHAPTER V.
CONTINUATION OF WHITEFIELD'S SECOND VISIT TO AMERICA.
1740

At the period when Whitefield laid the cornerstone of his Bethesda, his health was much impaired, and his spirits depressed. But it was necessary that funds should be obtained, to meet the claims now daily made upon him. He had received handsome donations from Charleston, New York, and Philadelphia, yet the urgent demand was for more. He therefore embarked from Charleston for Newcastle, Delaware, in a sloop, and arrived there in about ten days. Passing on from thence to Philadelphia, he found the churches closed against him. The commissary told him that he would lend the church to him no more. The laconic answer of Whitefield was, "The fields are open;" and eight thousand people assembled to hear him the same evening, and ten thousand on the following day. On the following Lord's day morning, he collected one hundred and ten pounds sterling for his "poor orphans," and then went to the Episcopal church, where the commissary preached a sermon on justification by works. As Whitefield was recognized at church, it was naturally expected that in the evening he would answer the sermon; nor was the public expectation disappointed. After his sermon, he collected eighty pounds more for Bethesda.

But far higher success than this attended his labors. Societies for worship were commenced in different parts of the town; not a few began seriously to inquire after the way of salvation; many negroes came to the evangelist with the inquiry, "Have I a soul?" and a church was formed, of which the distinguished Gilbert Tennent was the eminently useful pastor. No less than one hundred and forty, who had undergone a previous strict examination as to their personal piety, were received as constituent members of the church, and large additions were from time to time made to their number.

Several events of special interest occurred during this visit to Philadelphia. Tennent had to tell a series of delightful facts as to the usefulness of Whitefield's former labors. He began to deliberate on a plan for a negro school in Pennsylvania, as he did afterwards also in Virginia, but unexpected difficulties intervened, and both in the end were abandoned. Mr. Jones, the Baptist minister of the city, told Whitefield of the change produced by his former preaching on the minds of two ministers; one of whom stated to his congregation that he had hitherto been deceiving both himself and them, and added, that he could not preach to them at present, but requested them to unite in prayer with him; and the other resigned his charge, to itinerate among the unenlightened villages of New Jersey and elsewhere. Another fact was, that an Indian trader became so impressed with the preaching of Whitefield, that he had given up his business, and was gone to teach the Indians with whom he used to trade. Nor had his usefulness stopped here: he heard of a drinking club, which had attached to it a negro boy remarkable for his powers of mimicry. This boy was directed by the gentlemen who composed the club to exercise his powers on Mr. Whitefield: he did so, but very reluctantly; at length he stood up and said, "I speak the truth in Christ, I lie not; unless you repent, you will all be damned." This unexpected speech had such an effect as to break up the club, which met no more.

We add a few paragraphs from Seward's journal, who soon after sailed for England to promote the interests of Georgia, and who died in the parent country. They date from the 24th to the 26th of April. "Came to Christopher Wigner's plantation in Skippack, where many Dutch people are settled, and where the famous Mr. Spalemburg lately resided. It was surprising to see such a multitude of people gathered together in such a wilderness country, thirty miles distant from Philadelphia. Mr. Whitefield was exceedingly carried out, in his sermon, to press poor sinners to come to Christ by faith, and claim all their privileges; namely, not only righteousness and peace, but joy in the Holy Ghost; and after he had done, our dear friend Peter Bohler preached in Dutch, to those who could not understand Mr. Whitefield in English."

"Before Mr. Whitefield left Philadelphia, he was desired to visit one who was under a deep sense of sin, from hearing him preach. In praying with this person, he was so carried beyond himself, that the whole company, about twenty, seemed to be filled with the Holy Ghost, and magnified the God of heaven."

"Arose at three o'clock, and though Mr. Whitefield was very weak in body, yet the Lord enabled him to ride nearly fifty miles, and to preach to about five thousand people at Amwell, with the same power as usual. Mr. Gilbert Tennent, Mr. Rowland, Mr. Wales, and Mr. Campbell, four godly ministers, met us here."

"Came to New Brunswick. Met Mr. Noble from New York, a zealous promoter of our Lord's kingdom. He said their society at New York was enlarged from seventy to one hundred and seventy, and was daily increasing; and that Messrs. Gilbert and William Tennent, Mr. Rowland, and several others, were hard laborers in our Lord's vineyard."

It will be readily supposed that by this time Whitefield and his movements had become so much a matter of interest as to be frequently discussed in the newspapers of the day.

The "New England Weekly Journal" of April 29, 1740, copies from a Philadelphia paper of April 17: "The middle of last month the Rev. Mr. Whitefield was at Charleston, and preached five times, and collected at one time upwards of £70 sterling for the benefit of the orphan-house in Georgia; and on Sunday last, after ten days' passage from Georgia, he landed at Newcastle, where he preached morning and evening. On Monday morning he preached to about three thousand at Wilmington, and in the evening arrived in this city. On Tuesday evening he preached to about eight thousand on Society hill, and preached at the same place yesterday morning and evening." Then follows a list of his appointments daily to April 29, during which time he was to preach at Whitemarsh, Germantown, Philadelphia, Salem, N. J., Neshaminy, Skippack, Frederick township, Amwell, New Brunswick, Elizabethtown, and New York. On May 6th, the Journal copied a Philadelphia notice of April 24th, that he had preached on the previous Sabbath to fifteen thousand hearers, and on Monday at Greenwich and Gloucester, and that he would return to Georgia before visiting New England.

The Journal of May 20th, contains a letter from Whitefield to a friend in England, dated New Brunswick, N. J., April 27. Of his visit to Charleston he says, "A glorious work was begun in the hearts of the inhabitants, and many were brought to cry out, 'What shall we do to be saved?' A fortnight ago, after a short passage of ten days, I landed in Pennsylvania, and have had the pleasure of seeing and hearing that my poor endeavors for promoting Christ's kingdom, when here last, were not altogether in vain in the Lord. I cannot tell you how many have come to me laboring under the deepest convictions, and seemingly truly desirous of finding rest in Jesus Christ. Several have actually received him into their hearts by faith, and have not only righteousness and peace, but joy in the Holy Ghost. In short, the word has run and been much glorified, and many negroes also are in a fair way of being brought home to God. Young ones I intend to buy, and do not despair of seeing a room full of that despised generation, in a short time, singing and making melody with grace in their hearts to the Lord.

"An effectual door is opened for preaching the everlasting gospel, and I daily receive fresh and most importunate invitations to preach in all the counties round about. God is pleased to give a great blessing to my printed sermons. They are in the hands of thousands in these parts, and are a means of enlightening and building up many in their most holy faith. The clergy, I find, are most offended at me. The commissary of Philadelphia, having gotten a little stronger than when I was here last, has thrown off the mask, denied me the pulpit, and last Sunday preached up an historical faith, and justification by works. But the people only flock the more. The power of God is more visible than ever in our assemblies, and more and more are convinced that I preach the doctrine of Jesus Christ. Some of the bigoted, self-righteous Quakers now also begin to spit out a little of the venom of the serpent. They cannot bear the doctrine of original sin, and of an imputed righteousness as the cause of our acceptance with God. I have not yet met with much opposition from the dissenters; but when I come to tell many of them, ministers as well as people, that they hold the truth in unrighteousness, that they talk and preach of justifying faith, but never felt it in their hearts, as I am persuaded numbers of them have not, then they no doubt will shoot out their arrows, even bitter words."

While on his voyage from Charleston to Newcastle, Whitefield seems to have devoted the 4th of April, 1740, to correspondence on the subject of marriage. "I find," said he, "by experience, that a mistress is absolutely necessary for the due management of my increasing family, and to take off some of that care which at present lies upon me." His letters were addressed to a young lady and her parents, connected with a family much devoted to piety. Here, as everywhere else, his heart is transparent. He says to the parents of Miss E – , "I write only because I believe it is the will of God that I should alter my state; but your denial will fully convince me that your daughter is not the person appointed for me. He knows my heart; I would not marry but for him, and in him, for ten thousand worlds."

The next year, having returned to England, Whitefield, like his eminent friend John Wesley, was married, and, like him also, was unhappy in his domestic relation. In each case, the husband exacted a previous pledge that the wife should never prevent the delivery of a single sermon; and this was followed by separation from the wife for weeks, months, or even years, in the prosecution of their arduous labors. In the case of Whitefield, his marriage in Wales, with a widow lady, in 1741, was followed by the birth of a son; previous to which event he had said, in the joy of his heart, that his name should be John, and that he should be a preacher of the everlasting gospel. The first prediction was realized, and when his child was a week old, the good man told his people in the Tabernacle, London, that he would live to preach, and "be great in the sight of the Lord." But alas, at the end of four months John died, and his father very wisely wrote in his journal: "I hope what happened before his birth, and since at his death, has taught me such lessons as, if duly improved, may render his mistaken parent more sober-minded, more experienced in Satan's devices, and consequently more useful in his future labors in the church of God."

On the death of his wife somewhat suddenly, August 9, 1768, Mr. Whitefield himself preached her funeral sermon, from Romans 8:28: "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them that are the called according to his purpose." In describing her character, he particularly mentioned her fortitude and courage, and suddenly exclaimed, "Do you remember my preaching in those fields by the stump of the old tree? The multitude was great, and many were disposed to be riotous. At first I addressed them with firmness; but when a gang of desperate banditti drew near, with the most ferocious looks, and horrid imprecations and menaces, my courage began to fail. My wife was then standing behind me, as I stood on the table. I think I hear her now. She pulled my gown" – himself suiting the action to the word, by placing his hand behind him and touching his robe – "and looking up, said, 'George, play the man for your God.' My confidence returned. I again spoke to the multitude with boldness and affection; they became still; and many were deeply affected."

Before we leave Philadelphia, we may relate an instance or two as to the power of his eloquence. Dr. Franklin says, "He had a loud and clear voice, and articulated his words so perfectly that he might be heard and understood to a great distance; especially as his auditors observed the most profound silence. He preached one evening from the top of the court-house steps, which are in the middle of Market-street, and on the west side of Second-street, which crosses it at right angles. Both streets were filled with his hearers to a considerable distance. Being among the hindmost in Market-street, I had the curiosity to learn how far he might be heard by setting backwards down the street towards the river; and I found his voice distinct till I came near Front-street, where some noise in that street obstructed it. Imagine, then, a semicircle of which my distance should be a radius, and that it was filled with auditors, to each of whom I allowed two square feet, I computed that he might well be heard by more than thirty thousand people."

But not only does Franklin bear witness of Whitefield's eloquence as to his voice, but still more strongly as to its persuasiveness, of which, it seems, he was himself a striking illustration. He says, "I refused to contribute to his orphan-house in Georgia, thinking it injudiciously located. Soon after, I happened to attend one of his sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded, I began to soften, and determined to give the copper. Another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and determined me to give the silver; and he finished so admirably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the collector's dish, gold and all. At this sermon there was also one of our club; who being of my sentiments respecting the building at Georgia, and suspecting a collection might be intended, had, by precaution, emptied his pockets before he came from home. Towards the conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong inclination to give, and applied to a neighbor, who stood near him, to lend him some money for the purpose. The request was made to, perhaps, the only man in the company who had the firmness not to be affected by the preacher. His answer was, 'At any other time, friend Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee freely; but not now, for thee seems to be out of thy right senses.'"

Whitefield, much as he loved Philadelphia, had now again to leave it. Thus writes the correspondent of the "New England Weekly Journal," at Newcastle, May 15: "This evening Mr. Whitefield went on board his sloop here, to sail for Georgia. On Sunday he preached twice In Philadelphia, and in the evening, when he preached his farewell sermon, it is supposed he had twenty thousand hearers. On Monday he preached at Darby and Chester; on Tuesday, at Wilmington and White Clay creek; on Wednesday, twice at Nottingham; on Thursday, at Fog's Manor and Newcastle. The congregations were much increased since his being here last. The presence of God was much seen in the assemblies, especially at Nottingham and Fog's Manor, where the people were under such deep soul distress, that their cries almost drowned his voice. He has collected in this and the neighboring provinces, about £450 sterling for his orphans in Georgia."

He arrived at Savannah June 5, and most interesting was the manner of his reception. He says, "O what a sweet meeting I had with my dear friends! What God has prepared for me, I know not; but surely I cannot well expect a greater happiness, till I embrace the saints in glory. When I parted, my heart was ready to break with sorrow; but now it almost bursts with joy. O how did each in turn hang upon my neck, kiss, and weep over me with tears of joy! And my own soul was so full of a sense of God's love when I embraced one friend in particular, that I thought I should have expired in the place. I felt my soul so full of a sense of the divine goodness, that I wanted words to express myself. Why me, Lord; why me? When we came to public worship, young and old were all dissolved in tears. After service, several of my parishioners, all my family, and the little children, returned home, crying along the streets, and some could not avoid praying very loud.

"Being very weak in body, I laid myself upon a bed; but finding so many weeping, I rose and betook myself to prayer again. But had I not lifted up my voice very high, the groans and cries of the children would have prevented my being heard. This continued for near an hour; till at last, finding their concern rather increase than abate, I desired all to retire. Then some or other might be heard praying earnestly, in every corner of the house. It happened at this time to thunder and lighten, which added very much to the solemnity of the night. Next day the concern still continued, especially among the girls. I mention the orphans in particular, that their benefactors may rejoice in what God is doing for their souls."

On the 7th of June, he wrote, "I have brought with me a Latin master, and on Monday laid the foundation, in the name of the Lord Jesus, for a university in Georgia." On the 28th of the same month, he wrote to a Mr. W. D – , in a style admirably corresponding with the meek spirit we have already seen in his letter to the Rev. Dr. Pemberton, of New York. "I thank you for your kind letters and friendly cautions; and I trust I shall always reckon those my choicest friends, who, in simplicity and meekness, tell me the corruptions of my heart. It is that faithfulness which has endeared J. S – to me. I think I never was obliged to any one so much before. O my dear brother, still continue faithful to my soul; do not hate me in your heart; in any wise reprove me. Exhort all my brethren to forgive my past, I fear, too imperious carriage; and let them pray that I may know myself to be, what I really am, less than the least of them all."

Whitefield's family at Bethesda had now increased to not less than one hundred and fifty persons, and to advance their interests, it was needful that he should again visit Charleston, where he arrived on the third of July, and immediately commenced preaching, as on former visits. On the following Sabbath, three days after his arrival, he attended the Episcopal church, where, he says, "I heard the commissary preach as virulent and unorthodox, inconsistent a discourse, as ever I heard in my life. His heart seemed full of choler and resentment. Out of the abundance thereof, he poured forth so many bitter words against the Methodists, as he called them, in general, and me in particular, that several who intended to receive the sacrament at his hands, withdrew. Never, I believe, was such a preparation sermon preached before. After sermon, he sent his clerk to desire me not to come to the sacrament till he had spoken with me. I immediately retired to my lodgings, rejoicing that I was accounted worthy to suffer this further degree of contempt for my dear Lord's sake."

The next day, the commissary of the bishop of London issued against Whitefield the following ecclesiastical writ:

"Alexander Garden, lawfully constituted Commissary of the Right Reverend Father in Christ, Edmund, by divine permission Lord Bishop of London, supported by the royal authority underwritten:

"Alexander Garden, To all and singular clerks, and literate persons whomsoever, in and throughout the whole province of South Carolina, wheresoever appointed, Greeting:

"To you, conjunctly and severally, we commit, and strictly enjoining, command, that you do cite, or cause to be cited, peremptorily, George Whitefield, clerk, and presbyter of the Church of England, that he lawfully appear before us, in the parish church of St. Philip, Charleston, and in the judicial place of the same, on Tuesday, the fifteenth day of this instant July, 'twixt the hours of nine and ten in the forenoon, then and there in justice to answer to certain articles, heads, or interrogatories, which will be objected and ministered unto him concerning the mere health of his soul, and the reformation and correction of his manners and excesses, and chiefly for omitting to use the form of prayers prescribed in the Communion-Book; and further to do and receive what shall be just in that behalf, on pain of law and contempt. And what you shall do in the premises, you shall duly certify us, together with these presents.

"Given under our hands and seals of our office, at Charleston, this seventh day of July, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and forty."

Justice to all parties requires it should be said, that the phrase as to the health of Whitefield's soul was used by Garden not of choice, but in conformity with the forms of English ecclesiastical law; the theory of which is, that ecclesiastical courts are only held to promote the spiritual health or welfare of those who are cited into them. The principal sin of Whitefield was "omitting to use the form of prayer prescribed in the Common Prayer Book." The undisputed matter of fact, as Tracy says, was, that he always used that form when he could obtain an Episcopal church to preach in; but when he was shut out of such pulpits, and was preaching to Baptists, Presbyterians, and Congregationalists, in their own houses of worship, where none of the congregations had prayer books, or knew how to use them, and where the introduction of unaccustomed forms would not have promoted the devotion of the worshippers, he prayed extempore.

On the day this writ was issued, Whitefield preached for Mr. Chanler, "a gracious Baptist minister, about fourteen miles from Charleston;" and twice on the next day "to a large audience in Mr. Osgood's meeting-house, a young Independent minister," at Dorchester; the next day at Dorchester again, and at Charleston in the evening; the next day preached and read prayers in Christ's church, and twice at Charleston the next day, with great success. And now, on July 11th, a citation was served upon him to appear on the fifteenth, as required in the writ.

On the 12th, he preached and read prayers twice on John's island; and on the 13th, which was the Sabbath, he again listened to a sermon from the commissary. Of this sermon Whitefield says, "Had some infernal spirit been sent to draw my picture, I think it scarcely possible that he could paint me in more horrid colors. I think, if ever, then was the time that all manner of evil was spoken against me falsely for Christ's sake. The commissary seemed to ransack church history for instances of enthusiasm and abused grace. He drew a parallel between me and all the Oliverians, Ranters, Quakers, French prophets, till he came down to a family of Dutartes, who lived not many years ago in South Carolina, and were guilty of the most notorious incests and murders."

The next day Whitefield again preached twice; and on Tuesday appeared before the commissary, according to his citation. This is said to have been the first court of the kind ever attempted to be held in any of the colonies. It consisted of the reverend commissary A. Garden, and the Rev. Messrs. Guy, Mellichamp, Roe, and Orr, who, as well as Whitefield himself, and his able advocate, Mr. Andrew Rutledge, respectively showed their want of familiarity with such business, and, after a series of blunders on both sides, the court adjourned to nine o'clock the next morning, to afford Whitefield time to ascertain the extent of the jurisdiction of the bishop and his commissary. How little, however, he studied the subject may be inferred from the fact, that he preached twice during the remainder of the day. The next day, a Mr. Graham appeared as a prosecuting attorney, and Mr. Rutledge as counsel for the respondent. Whitefield made some mistakes, but hints from his quick-sighted advocate and his own adroitness saved him from their consequences; though he contrived to give the court a lecture on the meanness of catching at a word as soon as it was out of his lips, without allowing him time to correct it. He now filed his objection against being judged by the commissary, who, he alleged, was prejudiced against him. This gave rise to new questions: the court adjourned; and the evangelist went to James' island, read prayers, and preached. The next day he again appeared in court, and found that his exceptions were repelled, and that the arbitrators he had asked for would not be appointed. He now appealed to the high Court of Chancery in London, declaring all further proceedings in this court to be null and void. He then retired and read letters which refreshed his spirit, by informing him how "mightily grew the word of God and prevailed" at Philadelphia; and that Mr. Bolton, in Georgia, had nearly fifty negroes learning to read. On the 18th he preached twice, and on the 19th again appeared before the commissary, and bound himself, in a penalty of ten pounds, to prosecute his appeal in London within twelve months. The appeal was never tried, as the ecclesiastical authorities allowed it to die of neglect.

"The court being ended," says Whitefield, in his journal, "the commissary desired to speak with me. I asked him to my lodgings. He chose to walk on a green near the church. His spirit was somewhat calmer than usual; but after an hour's conversation, we were as far from agreeing as before." "All his discourse was so inconsistent and contrary to the gospel of our Lord, that I was obliged to tell him that I believed him to be an unconverted man, an enemy to God, and of a like spirit with the persecutor Saul. At this he smiled; and, after we had talked a long while, we parted, and God gave me great satisfaction that I had delivered my soul in my private conversation with the commissary."

The next day, July 20, was the Sabbath. The commissary preached in his usual style, and Whitefield preached his farewell sermon to the people of Charleston. By his recommendation two or three of the dissenting ministers had instituted a weekly lecture; and the evangelist "advised the people, as the gospel was not preached in church, to go and hear it in the meeting-house." On leaving the city, he summed up, in his journal, the results of his labors in this manner:

"What makes the change more remarkable in the Charleston people is, that they seemed to me, at my first coming, to be a people wholly devoted to pleasure. One well acquainted with their manners and circumstances, told me more had been spent on polite entertainments, than the poor's-rate came to; but now the jewellers and dancing-masters begin to cry out that their craft is in danger. A vast alteration is discernible in the ladies' dresses. And some, while I have been speaking, have been so convinced of the sin of wearing jewels, that I have seen them with blushes put their hands to their ears, and cover them with their fans. But I hope the reformation has gone farther than externals. Many moral, good sort of men, who before were settled on their lees, have been gloriously awakened to seek after Jesus Christ; and many a Lydia's heart hath been opened to receive the things that were spoken. Indeed, the word came like a hammer and a fire. And a door, I believe, will be opened for teaching the poor negroes. Several of them have done their usual work in less time, that they might come to hear me. Many of their owners, who have been awakened, resolved to teach them Christianity. Had I time, and proper schoolmasters, I might immediately erect a negro school in South Carolina, as well as in Pennsylvania. Many would willingly contribute both money and land."

The Baptist church in Charleston at this time was nearly extinct, being reduced to five or six communicants, but Whitefield's success greatly increased their number, and it thus gained strength which it has never lost. It is also gratefully mentioned even now by the church of that denomination at Eutaw, that Whitefield during this visit to South Carolina preached the dedication-sermon of their house of worship.

Whitefield left Charleston on July 21, visiting and preaching on his way homeward, which he reached towards the close of the same week. He preached on the Sabbath in extreme weakness of body, but "with the Holy Ghost from above," and several were hopefully converted to God. On the 18th of August, he again left Savannah for Charleston, where he was able, for want of bodily strength, to preach but once a day, but he thought that his sermons were attended with more power and success than ever before. In a few days after, having preached a farewell sermon to four thousand hearers, he sailed for New England, where he had been very cordially invited by leading ministers and others in Boston and many other places.

CHAPTER VI.
WHITEFIELD'S FIRST VISIT TO NEW ENGLAND.
SEPTEMBER TO NOVEMBER, 1740

The religious state of New England in the early part of the eighteenth century, was little better than the description we have already given of the state of Great Britain and its other dependencies at that period. Dr. Prince tells us, that the first age of New England was one of an almost continual revival. Preaching was attended with so much power in some places, "that it was a common inquiry, by such members of a family as were detained at home on a Sabbath, whether any had been visibly awakened in the house of God that day." And he adds, "Few Sabbaths did pass without some being evidently converted, and some convincing proof of the power of God accompanying his word."

Dr. Increase Mather, writing towards the close of the seventeenth century, while he confirms the statements we have already given, bears farther testimony which is of a very painful character. He says, "Prayer is necessary on this account, that conversions have become rare in this age of the world. They that have their thoughts exercised in discerning things of this nature, have sad apprehensions that the work of conversion has come to a stand. During the last age scarcely a sermon was preached without some being apparently converted, and sometimes hundreds were converted by one sermon. Who of us now can say that we have seen any thing such as this? Clear, sound conversions are not frequent in our congregations; the great bulk of the present generation are apparently poor, perishing, and if the Lord prevent not, undone; many are profane, drunkards, lascivious, scoffers at the power of godliness, and disobedient; others are civil and outwardly conformed to good order, because so educated, but without knowing aught of a real change of heart." The same estimable writer says, in 1721, "I am now in my eighty-third year, and having had an opportunity of conversing with the first planters of this country, and having been for sixty-five years a preacher of the gospel, I feel as did the ancient men who had seen the former temple, and who wept aloud as they saw the latter. The children of New England are, or once were, for the most part, the children of godly parents. What did our fathers come into this wilderness for? Not to gain estates as men do now, but for religion, and that they might have their children in a hopeful way of being truly religious. There was a famous man who preached before one of the greatest assemblies that ever was addressed; it was about seventy years ago; and he said to them, 'I lived in a country seven years, and all that time I never heard a profane oath, or saw a man drunk.' And where was that country? It was New England. Ah, degenerate New England! What art thou come to at this day? How are those sins become common that were once not even heard of!"

Passing over, for the present, indications of a revival of religion, which had appeared in other parts of the country, we speak now only of New England. In 1734, a very extraordinary work of grace appeared at Northampton, Massachusetts, under the ministry of the distinguished Jonathan Edwards, the elder, the history of which is given in his admirable "Narrative of the surprising Work of God" at that period, in Northampton and the vicinity.

It is important to remark here, that the preaching which led to such delightful results was of the most faithful and pungent character. We will give one instance, as illustrative of many, as will be distinctly seen by those who have read Edwards' sermon, "Sinners in the hands of an angry God," or his "Justice of God in the damnation of Sinners." Perhaps, however, no sermon in New England has ever acquired greater celebrity, or accomplished more good, than the one preached by President Edwards at Enfield, July 8, 1741, from the words, "Their feet shall slide in due time." Deut. 32:35. "When they went into the meeting-house, the appearance of the assembly was thoughtless and vain; the people scarcely conducted themselves with common decency." But as the sermon proceeded, the audience became so overwhelmed with distress and weeping, that the preacher was "obliged to speak to the people and desire silence, that he might be heard." The excitement soon became intense; and it is said that a minister who sat in the pulpit with Mr. Edwards, in the agitation of his feelings, caught the preacher by the skirt of his dress, and said, "Mr. Edwards, Mr. Edwards, is not God a God of mercy?" Many of the hearers were seen unconsciously holding themselves up against the pillars, and the sides of the pews, as though they already felt themselves sliding into the pit. This fact has often been mentioned as a proof of the strong and scriptural character of President Edwards' peculiar eloquence – the eloquence of truth as attended by influence from heaven; for his sermons were read, without gestures.

But there was another element which must be taken into account when we look at the result of this sermon, as well as others delivered in like circumstances, and one which we fear has been often overlooked. "While the people of the neighboring towns were in great distress about their souls, the inhabitants of Enfield were very secure, loose, and vain. A lecture had been appointed there, and the neighboring people were so affected at the thoughtlessness of the inhabitants, and had so much fear that God would, in his righteous judgment, pass them by, that many of them were prostrate before him a considerable part of the previous evening, supplicating the mercy of heaven in their behalf. And when the time appointed for the lecture came, a number of the surrounding ministers were present, as well as some from a distance" – a proof of the prayerful interest felt on behalf of the town. In all this we see much of the secret of the powerful impression produced by that sermon, and are taught that in seasons when God seems about to pour out his Spirit on a community, Christians should be found "continuing instant in prayer."

In this more hopeful state of things than had long before existed in New England, Whitefield, who was now the second time in America, was most urgently entreated to visit the descendants of the Pilgrim fathers. He complied with the request, and arrived at Newport on the evening of the Sabbath, September 14, 1740. We furnish an account, written chiefly by himself, in his journal, published in London, 1741, a copy of which may be found in the library of Harvard University, to which we have had a kind access, and which is rich in what we may term Whitefieldian lore. He writes,

"Was sick part of the passage, but found afterwards the sea-air, under God, much improved my health. Arrived at Newport, in Rhode Island, just after the beginning of evening service. We came purposely thither first with our sloop. I think it the most pleasant entrance I ever yet saw. Almost all the morning the wind was contrary; but I found a very strong inclination to pray that we might arrive time enough to be present at public worship. Once I called the people; but something prevented their coming. At last, finding my impression increase upon me, I desired their attendance immediately. They came. With a strong assurance that we should be heard, we prayed that the Lord would turn the wind, that we might give him thanks in the great congregation; and also that he would send such to us as he would have us to converse with, and who might show us a lodging. Though the wind was ahead when we began, when we had done praying, and came up out of the cabin, it was quite fair.

"With a gentle gale we sailed most pleasantly into the harbor; got into public worship before they had finished the psalms; and sat, as I thought, undiscovered. After service was over, a gentleman asked me whether my name was not Whitefield. I told him 'yes;' he then desired me to go to his house, and he would take care to provide lodgings and necessaries for me and my friends. I went, silently admiring God's goodness in answering my prayer so minutely. Several gentlemen of the town soon came to pay their respects to me, among whom was one Mr. Clap, an aged dissenting minister, but the most venerable man I ever saw. He looked like a good old Puritan, and gave me an idea of what stamp those men were who first settled New England. His countenance was very heavenly; he rejoiced much in spirit at the sight of me, and prayed most affectionately for a blessing on my coming to Rhode Island."

In the evening, in company with Mr. Clap and other friends, Whitefield visited Mr. Honeyman, the minister of the church of England, and requested the use of his pulpit. "At first he seemed a little unwilling, being desirous to know 'what extraordinary call I had to preach on week-days,' which he said was disorderly. I answered, 'St. Paul exhorted Timothy to 'be instant in season and out of season;' that if the orders of the church were rightly complied with, our ministers should read public prayers twice every day, and then it would not be disorderly at such times to give them a sermon. As to an extraordinary call, I claimed none otherwise than upon the apostle's injunction, 'As we have opportunity, let us do good unto all men.' He still held out, and did not give any positive answer; but at last, after he had withdrawn and consulted with the gentlemen, he said, 'If my preaching would promote the glory of God, and the good of souls, I was welcome to his church as often as I would, during my stay in town.' We then agreed to make use of it at ten in the morning, and three in the afternoon. After this, I went to wait on the governor, who seemed to be a very plain man, and had a very plain house, which much pleased me. By profession, I think he is a Seventh-day Baptist; he is a man of good report as to his conduct and dealing with the world." As might have been expected, the evening was spent in exposition and prayer, with a crowded company, in the house of his friend Bowers, the gentleman who first addressed him when coming out of church.

On Monday morning, he breakfasted with "old Mr. Clap, and was much edified by his conversation." Of this venerable servant of Christ he says, "I could not but think, while at his table, that I was sitting with one of the patriarchs. He is full of days, a bachelor, and has been minister of a congregation in Rhode Island upwards of forty years. People of all denominations, I find, respect him. He abounds in good works; gives all away, and is wonderfully tender of little children; many of different persuasions come to be instructed by him. Whenever he dies, I am persuaded, with good old Simeon, he will be enabled to say, 'Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.'" Whitefield preached, according to appointment, morning and afternoon, "in the church. It is very commodious, and I believe will contain three thousand people. It was more than filled in the afternoon. Persons of all denominations attended. God assisted me much. I observed numbers affected, and had great reason to believe the word of the Lord had been 'sharper than a twoedged sword,' in some of the hearers' souls."

On the evening of the same day he received the following note:

Reverend Sir and beloved Brother – Although mine eyes never saw your face before this day, yet my heart and soul have been united to you in love, by the bond of the Spirit. I have longed and expected to see you for many months past. Blessed be God, mine eyes have seen the joyful day. I trust, through grace, I have some things to communicate to you that will make your heart glad. I shall omit writing any thing, and only hereby present my hearty love, and let you know that I am waiting now at the post of your door for admission. Though I am unworthy, my Lord is worthy, in whose name, I trust, I come. I am your unworthy brother,

"JONATHAN BARBER."

"On reading it," says Whitefield, "I could not but think this was one of those young ministers whom God had lately made use of in such a remarkable manner, at the east end of Long Island. I sent for him, and found he was the man. My heart rejoiced. We walked out, and took sweet counsel together; and among other things, he told me that he came to Rhode Island under a full conviction that he should see me there, and had been waiting for me about a week… What rendered this more remarkable was, I had no intention of sailing to Rhode Island till about three days before I left Carolina; and I had a great desire to put in, if I could, at the east end of Long Island, to see this very person, whom the great God now brought unto me. Lord, accept our thanks, sanctify our meeting, and teach us both what we shall do for thine own name's sake. In the evening I went to the venerable Mr. Clap's, and exhorted and prayed with a great multitude, who not only crowded into the house, but thronged every way about it. The dear old man rejoiced to see the things which he saw; and after my exhortation was over, dismissed me with his blessing."

Tuesday, we scarcely need remark, was spent by Whitefield in the work of his great Master. He preached to a vast congregation, including the members of the House of Assembly, who adjourned to attend the service; and he had very delightful evidence that his labors had already been useful. On Wednesday he left Newport, and about noon preached at Bristol, at the request of the court, which was then in session, and slept that night at a hotel on the road to Boston. On Thursday morning he set out early, and as he passed on with his friends, he says, "Found that the people were apprized of my coming, and were solicitous for my preaching; but being resolved under God, if possible, to reach Boston, we travelled on for near fifty miles, and came to Boston about eight in the evening. When we were within four miles of the city, the governor's son, several other gentlemen, and one or two ministers, waited at a gentleman's house to give me the meeting. They received me with great gladness, and told me many more would have come, had not a large funeral been in the town, or if there had been more certain notice of my arriving. This rejoiced me; for I think I can stand any thing better than this. It savors too much of human grandeur. But I must be tried every way; the Lord be my helper. After stopping a while, we went together to Boston, to the house of one Mr. Sandiford, brother-in-law to the Rev. Dr. Colman, who long since had sent me an invitation… My heart was but low, and my body weak; but, at the request of one of the ministers, I gave thanks to our gracious God for bringing me in safety, and prayed that my coming might be in the fulness of the blessing of the gospel of peace."

He slept well that night, and the next morning, he says, "I perceived fresh emanations of divine light break in upon and refresh my soul." He was visited by several gentlemen, including Josiah Willard, Esq., the secretary of the province, a man who feared God, and with whom Whitefield had for some time been in correspondence. The governor, Belcher, received him with the utmost respect, and requested frequent visits. He attended public worship at the church of England, and waited on the commissary home, who received him very courteously. As it was a day on which the clergy of that body had a meeting, he came into the company of five of them assembled together. They soon attacked him "for calling that Tennent and his brethren faithful ministers of Christ." He answered, that he believed they were so. They questioned the validity of Presbyterian ordination, and quoted from his journal his own words against him. He replied, that perhaps his sentiments were altered. They then went into a doctrinal discussion, which continued till Whitefield, finding how inconsistent they were, took his leave, resolving that they should not have the opportunity of denying him their pulpits. However, they treated him, on the whole, with more courtesy than he had lately been accustomed to receive from the ministers of his own church.

In the afternoon of the same day, he preached to a vast congregation in the Rev. Dr. Colman's meeting-house, in Brattle-street, and in the evening exhorted and prayed with such as came to his lodgings. On Saturday, in the forenoon, he discoursed to a crowded audience at the Old South church, where Dr. Sewall was pastor, the only church edifice in Boston with which Whitefield was connected which is still standing as it then was. In the afternoon he preached on the Common to about eight thousand persons, and, at night to a thronged company at his own lodgings.

On the morning of the next day, which was the Sabbath, he heard Dr. Colman preach; in the afternoon, he preached at Mr. Foxcroft's meeting-house to a vast auditory. This gentleman was the senior pastor of the First church, meeting in Chauncy-place, and the Rev. Charles Chauncy was his colleague. The church edifice was in Cornhill-square, not far from the old state-house, and was usually called the "Old Brick meeting." As this house was by far too small to contain his auditory, he almost immediately afterwards preached on the Common, to about fifteen thousand hearers; and again at night at his lodgings. He says, "Some afterwards came into my room. I felt much of the divine presence in my own soul, and though hoarse was enabled to speak with much power, and could have spoke, I believe, till midnight."

On Monday morning, Whitefield preached at Mr. Webb's meeting-house, the "New North," on the corner of Clark and Hanover streets. "The presence of the Lord," he says, "was among us. Look where I would around me, visible impressions were made upon the auditory. Most wept for a considerable time." In the afternoon he meant to have preached at Mr. Cheekley's, in Summer-street, but was prevented by an accident. Just before the time for the commencement of the service, a person broke a board in one of the galleries, of which to make a seat; the noise alarmed some who heard it, and they imprudently cried out that the galleries were giving way. The house being much crowded, the whole congregation were thrown into the utmost alarm and disorder; some jumped from the gallery into the seats below, others fell from the windows, and those below pressing to get out of the porch, were many of them thrown over each other and trodden upon. Many, as might be expected, were seriously bruised; others had bones broken; and within two days five persons died from the injuries they had received. Mr. Whitefield's presence of mind did not fail him; he immediately led the anxious throng to the Common, and preached to them from the text, "Go ye out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in." He says, "The weather was wet, but above eight thousand followed into the fields."

On Tuesday morning, Whitefield visited Mr. Walter, at Roxbury. This gentleman had been the colleague, and was now the successor of John Eliot, "the apostle of the Indians." These two men had been pastors of that church one hundred and six years. Whitefield was much pleased with Walter, who, in return, was glad to hear that he, like old Bishop Beveridge, called man "half a devil and half a beast." He preached that forenoon at Mr. Gee's meeting-house, the "Old North," of which church the celebrated Dr. Cotton Mather had formerly been pastor. The house stood in the North square, and was taken down by the British army and burned for fuel at the siege of Boston, in 1776. The auditory Whitefield preached to that morning was not very crowded, as the people were in doubt where he would preach. After dining with the secretary of the province, he says, "I preached in the afternoon at Dr. Sewall's to a thronged congregation, and exhorted and prayed as usual at my own lodgings; at neither place without some manifestations of a divine power accompanying the word."

Wednesday was not lost. Whitefield himself shall describe its proceedings. "Went this morning to see and preach at Cambridge, the chief college for training up the sons of the prophets in all New England. It has one president, I think four tutors, and about a hundred students. It is scarce as big as one of our least colleges in Oxford, and as far as I could gather from some who well knew the state of it, not far superior to our universities in piety and true godliness. Tutors neglect to pray with, and examine the hearts of their pupils. Discipline is at too low an ebb. Bad books are become fashionable. Tillotson and Clarke are read instead of Sheppard, Stoddard, and such like evangelical writers; and therefore I chose to preach on these words: 'We are not as many, who corrupt the word of God;' and in the conclusion of my sermon I made a close application to tutors and students. A great number of neighboring ministers attended, as indeed they do at all other times, and God gave me great boldness and freedom of speech. The president of the college and minister of the parish treated me very civilly. In the afternoon I preached again in the court, without any particular application to the students. I believe there were about seven thousand hearers. The Holy Spirit melted many hearts. The word was attended with a manifest power; and a minister soon after wrote me word, that 'he believed one of his daughters was savingly wrought upon at that time.' Paid my respects to the lieutenant-governor, who lives at Cambridge, and returned in the evening to Boston, and prayed with and exhorted many people who were waiting round the door for a spiritual morsel. I believe our Lord did not send them empty away."

An elm under which Whitefield preached in Cambridge became distinguished; it being under its shade that Washington, thirty-one years after, first drew his sword in the cause of the Revolution, on taking the command of the American army. From this circumstance, it has been called the "Washington elm." The last time the late distinguished Dr. Holyoke, of Salem, Mass., was in Cambridge, then nearly a hundred years old, while passing this tree with a friend, he said that he heard Whitefield's sermon, being at the time a student in college.

On Thursday he preached the weekly lecture at Mr. Foxcroft's, the First church. But he says, "I was so oppressed with a sense of my base ingratitude to my dearest Saviour, that Satan would fain have tempted me to hold my tongue, and not invite poor sinners to Jesus Christ, because I was so great a sinner myself. But God enabled me to withstand the temptation, and since Jesus Christ had shown such mercy to, and had not withdrawn his Holy Spirit from me, the chief of sinners, I was enabled more feelingly to talk of his love; and afterwards found that one stranger, in particular, was in all probability effectually convinced by that morning's sermon. After public worship, I went, at his excellency's invitation, and dined with the governor. Most of the ministers of the town were invited with me. Before dinner, the governor sent for me up into his chamber. He wept, wished me 'good luck in the name of the Lord,' and recommended himself, ministers, and people to my prayers. Immediately after dinner, I prayed explicitly for them all, and went in his coach to the end of the town; but had such a sense of my vileness upon my soul, that I wondered people did not stone me. Crossed a ferry, and preached at Charlestown, a town lying on the north side of Boston. The meeting-house was very capacious, and quite filled. A gracious melting was discernible through the whole congregation, and I perceived much freedom and sweetness in my own soul, though the damp I felt in the morning was not quite gone off. In the evening I exhorted and prayed as usual at my lodgings; and blessed be God, I found a great alteration in my hearers. They now began to melt and weep under the word."

On Friday, the following day, he preached in the morning at Roxbury, from a little ascent, to many thousands of people, with much of the divine presence. Several came to him afterwards, telling him how they were struck with the word. Having dined with Judge Dudley, he preached to a still larger congregation from a scaffold erected outside Mr. Byles' meeting-house in Hollis-street. Wrote to several friends in England; gave a short exhortation to a large crowd of hearers; and then spent the evening with several ministers in edifying conversation, singing, and prayer.

Saturday, he preached in the morning at Mr. Welsteed's meeting-house, and in the afternoon to about fifteen thousand people on the Common. "But Oh, how did the word run! It rejoiced me to see such numbers greatly affected, so that some, I believe, could scarcely abstain from crying out. That place was no other than a Bethel, and a gate of heaven." After he had gone home to his lodgings he says, "The power and presence of the Lord accompanied and followed me. Many now wept bitterly, and cried out under the word like persons that were really hungering and thirsting after righteousness; and after I left them, God gave me to wrestle with him in my chamber, in behalf of some dear friends then present, and others that were absent from us. The Spirit of the Lord was upon them all. It made intercession with groanings that cannot be uttered."

On the day following, being the Sabbath, in the morning he preached at the Old South church, Dr. Sewall's, to a very crowded auditory, "with almost as much power and visible appearance of God as yesterday. Collected £555 currency for my little lambs; was taken very ill after dinner; vomited violently, but was enabled to preach at Dr. Colman's in the afternoon to as great, if not a greater congregation than in the morning. Here also £470 were collected for the orphan-house in Georgia. In both places all things were carried on with decency and order. People went slowly out, as though they had not a mind to escape giving; and Dr. Colman said 'it was the most pleasant time he ever enjoyed in that meeting-house through the whole course of his life.' Blessed be God, after sermon I perceived myself somewhat refreshed. Supped very early. Had the honor of a private visit from the governor, who came full of affection to take his leave of me for the present. Went, at their request, and preached to a great company of negroes, on the conversion of the Ethiopian, Acts the eighth; at which the poor creatures, as well as many white people, were much affected; and at my return, gave an exhortation to a crowd of people who were waiting at my lodgings. My animal spirits were almost exhausted, and my legs, through expense of sweating and vomiting, almost ready to sink under me; but the Lord visited my soul, and I went to bed greatly refreshed with divine consolations." Even at this early period such sufferings of his bodily system frequently followed his herculean labors.

Early on Monday morning, Sept. 29, Whitefield left Boston on an excursion to the eastward. At Marblehead, he "preached to some thousands in a broad place in the middle of the town, but not with much apparent effect." At Salem, he "preached to about seven thousand people. Here the Lord manifested forth his glory. One man was, I believe, struck down by the power of the word. In every part of the congregation, persons might be seen under great concern." He went on to Ipswich, where he was kindly "entertained at the house of Mr. Rogers, one of the ministers of the place." Of this family our evangelist was soon to know more than he had hitherto done. At about this period, John Rogers, aged 77, and Nathanael Rogers, were joint pastors of the First church at Ipswich; both of them were ardent promoters of the revival, as was also Daniel Rogers, of the same family. Whitefield learned with deep interest that his host was a descendant of the celebrated martyr, John Rogers. The next day he preached there to some thousands. "The Lord," says he, "gave me freedom, and there was a great melting in the congregation." At Newbury, in the afternoon, the Lord accompanied the word with power. The meeting-house was very large, many ministers were present, and the people were greatly affected. Blessed be God, his divine power attends us more and more." Wednesday, he preached at Hampton, in the open air, to some thousands. He was here very highly gratified with the conversation of Mr. Colton, the minister, and with the Christian simplicity of his excellent wife. The high wind prevented his being heard so well as he usually was, and he did not enjoy his accustomed freedom; still, "some, though not many, were affected." At Portsmouth, he "preached to a polite auditory, but so very unconcerned, that I began to question whether I had been speaking to rational or brute creatures. Seeing no immediate effects of the word preached, I was a little dejected; but God, to comfort my heart, sent one young man, crying out in great anguish of spirit, 'What shall I do to be saved?'"

On Friday, October 24, Whitefield arrived at New Haven, and was entertained at the house of Mr. James Pierpont, the brother-in-law of Mr. Edwards, and of Mr. Noyes, the minister of the First Congregational church. The Legislature of the colony being in session, he remained till after the Lord's day; and "had the pleasure of seeing numbers daily impressed," under his ministrations in the old polygonal meeting-house. Several ministers of the vicinity visited him, "with whose pious conversation he was much refreshed." Good old Governor Tallcott, on whom with due politeness he waited to pay his respects, said to him, "Thanks be to God for such refreshings in our way to heaven." Among others who heard his glowing appeals to the congregations that listened to him during this visit, was young Samuel Hopkins, still well known as an eminent divine. Hopkins was now nineteen, and was a student at college; his biographer tells us, that "he was much interested in the man, and much impressed by his solemn warnings."

The testimony of Hopkins himself may here be introduced. He says, speaking of Whitefield, "The attention of the people in general was greatly awakened upon hearing the fame of him, that there was a remarkable preacher from England travelling through the country. The people flocked to hear him when he came to New Haven. Some travelled twenty miles out of the country to hear him. The assemblies were crowded, and remarkably attentive; people appeared generally to approve, and their conversation turned chiefly upon him and his preaching. Some disapproved of several things, which occasioned considerable disputes. I heard him when he preached in public, and when he expounded in private in the evening, and highly approved of him, and was impressed by what he said in public and in private. He preached against mixed dancing and the frolicking of males and females together, which practice was then very common in New England. This offended some, especially young people. But I remember I justified him in this in my own mind, and in conversation with those who were disposed to condemn him. This was in October, 1740, when I had entered on my last year in college."

On this visit, Whitefield dined with the Rev. Mr. Clap, the rector of the college. Of the college he says, "It is about one-third part as big as Cambridge. It has one rector, three tutors, and about a hundred students. But I hear of no remarkable concern among them concerning religion." Mr. Clap, it is well known, afterwards became the public opponent of Whitefield; and it would seem that his dislike to him commenced with this first interview; for he "spoke very closely to the students, and showed the dreadful consequences of an unconverted ministry." In his journal of the day he says, "O that God may quicken ministers! O that the Lord may make them a flaming fire!" On the two days following, he preached at Milford, Stratford, and Fairfield, on his way to New York. On Wednesday, when at Stamford, he thus speaks of New England and his labors in it:

"I give God thanks for sending me to New England. I have now had an opportunity of seeing the greatest and most populous parts of it; and take it all together, it certainly on many accounts exceeds all other provinces of America, and for the establishment of religion, perhaps all other parts of the world. Never, surely, was so large a spot of ground settled in such a manner, in so short a space of one hundred years. The towns all through Connecticut and eastwards towards York in the province of Massachusetts, [Maine,] near the river-side, are large, well peopled, and exceedingly pleasant to travel through. Every five miles, or perhaps less, you have a meeting-house, and I believe there is no such a thing as a pluralist, or non-resident minister in both provinces. Many, nay, most that preach, I fear do not experimentally know Christ; yet I cannot see much worldly advantage to tempt them to take upon them the sacred function. Few country ministers, as I have been informed, have sufficient allowed them in money to maintain a family. God has remarkably, in sundry times and in divers manners, poured out his Spirit in several parts of both provinces; and it often refreshes my soul to hear of the faith of the good forefathers who first settled in these parts. Notwithstanding they had their foibles, surely they were a set of righteous men. They certainly followed our Lord's rule, sought first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; and behold, all other things God added unto them. Their seed are now blessed, in temporal things especially, and notwithstanding the rising generation seem to be settled on their lees, yet I believe the Lord hath more than seven thousand who have not bowed the knee to Baal. The ministers and people of Connecticut seem to be more simple than those that live near Boston, especially in those parts where I went. But I think the ministers' preaching almost universally by notes, is a certain mark they have in a great measure lost the old spirit of preaching. For though all are not to be condemned that use notes, yet it is a sad symptom of the decay of vital religion when reading sermons becomes fashionable, where extempore preaching did once almost universally prevail. As for the universities, I believe it may be said, their light is become darkness, darkness that may be felt, and is complained of by the most godly ministers. I pray God these fountains may be purified, and send forth pure streams to water the cities of our God… As for the civil government of New England, it seems to be well regulated, and I think, at opening all their courts, either the judge or a minister begins with a prayer. Family worship, I believe, is generally kept up. The negroes I think better used, both in soul and body, than in any other province I have yet seen. In short, I like New England exceedingly well; and when a spirit of reformation revives, it certainly will prevail here more than in other places, because they are simple in their worship, less corrupt in their principles, and consequently easier to be brought over to the form of sound words, into which so many of their pious ancestors were delivered. Send forth, O Lord, thy light and thy truth, and for thine infinite mercy's sake, show thou hast a peculiar delight in these habitable parts of the earth. Amen, Lord Jesus, amen, and amen."

Among many who became the subjects of divine grace during this visit of Whitefield to New England, was Daniel Emerson, who was educated at Harvard college, where he received his first degree in 1739, and where he continued to reside for some time as a graduate. While at college, he is said to have been very fond of the gay pleasures of this life, until his attention was effectually called to religion by the preaching of Whitefield, whom he followed from place to place for several days. He was ordained at Hollis, New Hampshire, in 1743, where, in a ministry of fifty years, he was a worthy follower of his spiritual father. The chief excellences of his preaching were sound doctrine, deep feeling, and zeal at times almost overwhelming. He was truly a son of thunder, and a flaming light. He was almost incessantly engaged in labors, preaching, attending funerals, etc., far and near. His efforts were greatly blessed, especially among his own people, who under his ministry enjoyed extensive revivals of religion, and where also a large number of ministers have been called to their work. He died in 1801, aged eighty-five.

It may be appropriate to introduce here a sketch of Whitefield's doctrines and labors at this time, as given us by the eminent Dr. Thomas Prince, in his "Christian History," under date of January 26, 1744-5, but having reference to Whitefield's first visit to New England, which we have just described:

"He spoke with a mighty sense of God, eternity, the immortality and preciousness of the souls of his hearers, of their original corruption, and of the extreme danger the unregenerate are in; with the nature and absolute necessity of regeneration by the Holy Ghost; and of believing in Christ, in order to our pardon, justification, yielding an acceptable obedience, and obtaining salvation from hell and an entrance into heaven. His doctrine was plainly that of the reformers; declaring against our putting our good works or morality in the room of Christ's righteousness, or their having any hand in our justification, or being indeed pleasing to God while we are totally unsanctified, acting upon corrupt principles, and unreconciled enemies to him; which occasioned some to mistake him, as if he opposed morality. But he insisted on it, that the tree of the heart is by original sin exceedingly corrupted, and must be made good by regeneration, that so the fruits proceeding from it may be good likewise; that where the heart is renewed, it ought and will be careful to maintain good works, that if any be not habitually so careful who think themselves renewed, they deceive their own souls; and even the most improved in holiness, as well as others, must entirely depend on the righteousness of Christ for the acceptance of their persons and services. And though now and then he dropped some expressions that were not so accurate and guarded as we should expect from aged and long-studied ministers, yet I had the satisfaction to observe his readiness with great modesty and thankfulness to receive correction as soon as offered.

"In short, he was a most importunate wooer of souls to come to Christ for the enjoyment of him, and all his benefits. He distinctly applied his exhortations to the elderly people, the middle-aged, the young, the Indians, and negroes, and had a most winning way of addressing them. He affectionately prayed for our magistrates, ministers, colleges, candidates for the ministry, and churches, as well as people in general; and before he left us, in a public and moving manner, he observed to the people how sorry he was to hear that the religious assemblies, especially on lectures, had been so thin, exhorted them earnestly to a more general attendance on our public ministrations for the time to come, and told them how glad he should be to hear of the same.

"Multitudes were greatly affected, and many awakened with his lively ministry. Though he preached every day, the houses were crowded; but when he preached on the Common, a vaster number attended; and almost every evening the house where he lodged was thronged to hear his prayers and counsels.

"On Mr. Whitefield's leaving us, great numbers in this town [Boston] were so happily concerned about their souls, as we had never seen any thing like it before, except at the time of the general earthquake;¹ and their desires excited to hear their ministers more than ever. So that our assemblies, both on lectures and Sabbaths, were surprisingly increased, and now the people wanted to hear us oftener. In consequence of which a public lecture was proposed to be set up at Dr. Colman's church, near the midst of the town, on every Tuesday evening."

In reference to the work of grace which was connected with Whitefield's preaching in New England, the Rev. Dr. Baron Stow, in his "Centennial Discourse," says, "The result, by the blessing of God, was a powerful revival, such as New England had never witnessed. The work was opposed with great vehemence; and no impartial reader of the history of those extraordinary scenes can question that much of the hostility was provoked by improprieties of both speech and action, that would at any time be offensive to those who love good order and Christian decorum. But after making liberal allowance for all that was truly exceptionable, it is cheerfully admitted by the candid Christian, that the excitement was, in the main, the product of the Holy Spirit, and that its fruits were eminently favorable to the advancement of true religion. A torpid community was aroused, as by the trump of God, from its long and heavy slumber; ministers and people were converted; the style of preaching, and the tone of individual piety were improved; a cold, cadaverous formalism gave place to the living energy of experimental godliness; the doctrines of the gospel were brought out from their concealment, and made to reassert their claims to a cordial, practical credence, and all the interests of truth and holiness received new homage from regenerated thousands."

One or two other facts connected with Whitefield's usefulness in New England are too important to be omitted. During this visit he was much gratified by an interview with a colored man, who had been his chaise-driver when he first visited Cambridge. The negro had heard him preach in the college a sermon especially addressed "to those who labor and are heavy-laden." It took such a hold on the poor man, that he repeated it in the kitchen when he reached home. Mr. Cooper of Boston was so well satisfied, as was Whitefield also, with his account of his conversion, that he was admitted to the Lord's table.

Another "brand plucked from the burning" was a son of Mackintosh, an English rebel, who had been condemned to perpetual imprisonment, and had been allowed by George the First to settle in New England. One of his daughters, a lady of fortune, had heard Whitefield preach in Dr. Prince's church at Boston, and had been won by the word to Christ. She was soon after smitten by sickness, and ripened rapidly for heaven. On her death-bed she cried out for her "soul friend" Mr. Whitefield; but checking her own impatience, she asked, "Why should I do so? He is gone about his Master's work, and in a little time we shall meet to part no more." The distinguished evangelist had a very high opinion of her piety, and his interest in her was increased by the fact that she had a very remarkable escape from some ruffians who had been bribed to convey her and her sister to Scotland, that their uncle might seize on an estate worth a thousand pounds a year.

There were at this time not less than twenty ministers in the neighborhood of Boston who unhesitatingly spoke of Whitefield as their spiritual father, directly tracing their conversion to his ministry. Of one of these we have an account by Collins, the journalist of South Reading. Speaking of 1741, he says, "Mr. Whitefield preached upon our Common in the open air. Mr. Hobby the minister went with the multitude to hear him. It is said that Mr. Hobby afterwards remarked, he came to pick a hole in Mr. Whitefield's coat, but that Whitefield picked a hole in his heart. Mr. Hobby afterwards wrote and published a defence of Mr. Whitefield in a letter to Mr. Henchman, the minister of Lynn, who had written against him."

The letters of Whitefield, during his journeys of eleven hundred miles in New England, were few and brief; but they clearly indicated that at this time he was inclined "to return no more to his native country." New England, notwithstanding his trials there, had evidently won his heart, and for a time almost weaned him from Great Britain. When he left it, as he was now about to do, for the south, he wrote, "God only knows what a cross it was to me to leave dear New England so soon. I hope death will not be so bitter to me as was parting with my friends. Glad shall I be to be prayed thither again before I see my native land. I would just be where He would have me, although in the uttermost parts of the earth. I am now hunting for poor lost sinners in these ungospelized wilds."

Is there not an awfully retributive providence connected with the rejection of the gospel and its ministers? Do we not see this principle at work in the history and present state of the Jews; and has it not often appeared also in the history of Christianity? There was a beautiful village, now a city, in Massachusetts, from which Whitefield was driven with such rancorous abuse, that he shook off the dust of his feet, and proclaimed that the Spirit of God would not visit that spot till the last of those persecutors was dead. The good man's language had a fearful truth in it, though he was not divinely gifted with the prophet's inspiration. A consciousness of desertion paralyzed the energies of the church; for nearly a century it was nurtured on the unwholesome food of unscriptural doctrine. In the very garden of natural loveliness, it sat like a heath in the desert, upon which there could be no rain; and not till that whole generation had passed from the earth, did Zion appear there in her beauty and strength.

CHAPTER VII.
LABORS IN NEW YORK AND THE MIDDLE AND SOUTHERN STATES.
1740, 1741

Whitefield was now again on his way to New York, preaching at Rye and King's Bridge on the road. At the latter place he was met by several friends from the city, with whom he pleasantly talked, "and found," he says, "an inexpressible satisfaction in my soul when I arrived at the house of my very dear friend Mr. Noble. After supper the Lord filled my heart, and gave me to wrestle with him for New York inhabitants and my own dear friends." He was also cheered by meeting Mr. Davenport from Long Island, whose labors as an evangelist were then exciting much interest. Here too he met with a violent pamphlet published against him. "Met also with two volumes of sermons published in London as delivered by me, though I never preached on most of the texts. But Satan must try all ways to bring the work of God into contempt."

On the morning after his arrival, Whitefield preached in Mr. Pemberton's meeting-house, and says concerning the service, "Never saw the word of God fall with such weight in New York before. Two or three cried out. Mr. Noble could scarce refrain himself. And look where I would, many seemed deeply wounded. At night the word was attended with great power. One cried out; and the Lord enabled me at the latter end of my sermon to speak with authority. Alas, how vain are the thoughts of men! As I came along yesterday, I found my heart somewhat dejected, and told Mr. Noble I expected but little moving in New York; but he bid me 'expect great things from God,' and likewise told me of several who were, as he hoped, savingly wrought upon by my ministry when I was there last."

On the following day he finished his answer to the pamphlet already referred to, and says, "God enabled me to write it in the spirit of meekness." He adds, "Preached twice as yesterday to very crowded auditories, and neither time without power. In the evening exercise some fainted, and the Lord seemed to show us more and more that a time for favoring New York was near at hand. Oh, wherefore did I doubt? Lord, increase my faith."

The following day, November 2, was the Sabbath. "Preached this morning with freedom and some power, but was much dejected before the evening sermon. For near half an hour before I left Mr. Noble's house, I could only lie before the Lord, and say I was a poor sinner, and wonder that Christ would be gracious to such a wretch. As I went to meeting I grew weaker and weaker, and when I came into the pulpit I could have chosen to be silent rather than speak. But after I had begun, the Spirit of the Lord gave me freedom, till at length it came down like a mighty rushing wind, and carried all before it. Immediately the whole congregation was alarmed. Shrieking, crying, weeping, and wailing were to be heard in every corner; men's hearts failing them for fear, and many falling into the arms of their friends. My soul was carried out till I could scarcely speak any more. A sense of God's goodness overwhelmed me."

After narrating two or three pleasing incidents as to the effect of his preaching even on the minds of children, and describing his feelings on his return home, he gives an account of the wedding of two young persons who were going as his assistants to Georgia. "Never," he says, "did I see a more solemn wedding. Jesus Christ was called, and he was present in a remarkable manner. After Mr. Pemberton had married them, I prayed. But my soul, how was it enabled to wrestle with and lay hold on God! I was in a very great agony, and the Holy Ghost was so remarkably present, that most, I believe, could say, 'Surely God is in this place.' After this, divine manifestations flowed in so fast, that my frail tabernacle was scarce able to sustain them. My dear friends sat round me on the bedsides. I prayed for each of them alternately with strong cries, and pierced by the eye of faith even within the veil. I continued in this condition for about half an hour, astonished at my own vileness and the excellency of Christ, then rose full of peace and love and joy."

On Monday, the 3d, he preached both morning and afternoon to increasing congregations, and says, "There was a great and gracious melting both times, but no crying out. Nearly £110 currency were collected for the orphans; and in the evening many came and took an affectionate leave. About seven we took boat; reached Staten Island about ten, greatly refreshed in my inner man. A dear Christian friend received us gladly, and we solaced ourselves by singing and praying. About midnight retired to sleep, still longing for that time when I shall sleep no more."

On Tuesday he preached on Staten Island from a wagon, to three or four hundred people. "The Lord came among them," and several inquired after the way of salvation. Here he met Gilbert Tennent and Mr. Cross. The former of these excellent ministers had recently lost his wife, and though he was ardently attached to her, he calmly preached her funeral sermon with the corpse lying before him. Tennent had lately been preaching in New Jersey and Maryland, and had a delightful account to give his friend of the progress of the good work. Nor was the account given by Mr. Cross of less interest. After sermon he rode to Newark, where he preached till dark, as he thought with but little good effect. "However, at night the Lord manifested forth his glory; for, coming down to family prayer where I lodged, and perceiving many young men around me, my soul was, as it were, melted down with concern for them. After singing, I gave a word of exhortation; with what power none can fully express but those that saw it. Oh, how did the word fall like a hammer and like a fire. What a weeping was there!"

We must stay a moment to give a fact or two in reference to the Rev. Aaron Burr, then quite a young man, who two or three years before had been ordained at Newark, and whose ministry had been attended with a delightful revival the year preceding Whitefield's visit. During the period of this revival, the neighboring village of Elizabethtown had been remarkable for its insensibility; even Whitefield had preached there, "and not a single known conversion," says Dr. Stearns, "followed his ministrations." Afterwards the pastor, the well-known Jonathan Dickinson, saw happy results from very plain preaching. Newark caught a new flame from its neighboring altar, and Mr. Burr, who had lately been to New England in quest of health, had heard the devoted evangelist again and again, and invited him to visit his flock, which he did about a month afterwards with happy results. The account given by Mr. Burr of Whitefield's preaching in New England was precisely what we should expect from the man who was afterwards the first president of Princeton college, and who, fourteen years after this, accompanied his eloquent friend to New England, "and saw at Boston, morning after morning, three or four thousand people hanging in breathless silence on the lips of the preacher, and weeping silent tears."

The Rev. Stephen Dodd of East Haven, Conn., relates that an old lady told him that when Mr. Whitefield came to preach in the old meeting-house at Newark, she was twelve years old, and as he entered the pulpit she looked at him with distrust, but before he got through his prayers herself and all the congregation were melted down, and the sermon filled the house with groans and tears. The next time he came, the congregation was so large that the pulpit window was taken out, and he preached through the opening to the people in the burying-ground.

On Wednesday, the 5th, he went to Baskinridge, Mr. Cross' parish, where he found Mr. Davenport, who, according to appointment, had been preaching to about three thousand people. He writes, "As I went along, I told a friend my soul wept for them, and I was persuaded within myself that the Lord would that day make his power to be known among them. In prayer, I perceived my soul drawn out, and a stirring of affections among the people. I had not discoursed long before the Holy Ghost displayed his power. In every part of the congregation somebody or other began to cry out, and almost all melted into tears. This abated for a few moments, till a little boy about seven or eight years of age cried out exceeding piteously indeed, and wept as though his little heart would break. Mr. Cross having compassion on him, took him up into the wagon, which so affected me, that I broke from my discourse, and told the people the little boy should preach to them, and that God, since old professors would not cry after Christ, had displayed his sovereignty, and out of an infant's mouth was perfecting praise. God so blessed this, that a universal concern fell on the congregation again. Fresh persons dropped down here and there, and the cry increased more and more."

In the evening, Gilbert Tennent preached excellently in Mr. Cross' barn, two miles off. His subject was the necessity and benefit of spiritual desertions, a remarkable subject, as has been said, at such a time, in a barn, and at night. "A great commotion," says Whitefield, "was soon observed among the hearers. I then gave a word of exhortation. The Lord's presence attended it in a surprising manner. One, in about six minutes, cried out, 'He is come, He is come!' and could scarcely sustain the discovery that Jesus Christ made of himself to his soul. Others were so earnest for a discovery of the Lord to their souls, that their eager crying obliged me to stop, and I prayed over them as I saw their agonies and distress increase. At length my own soul was so full that I retired, and was in a strong agony for some time, and wept before the Lord under a deep sense of my own vileness, and the sovereignty and greatness of God's everlasting love. Most of the people spent the remainder of the night in prayer and praise. Two or three young ministers spoke alternately, and others prayed as the Lord gave them utterance."

The next morning Whitefield exhorted, sung, and prayed with the people in the barn, and had some delightful conversation with a lad of thirteen, a poor negro woman, and several others. In company with several Christian friends, he then rode to the house of Gilbert Tennent in New Brunswick. Here he found letters from Savannah saying that great mortality existed in the neighborhood, but that the family at the orphan-house continued in health, and that a minister was about coming from England to take his church at Savannah. "This last," says he, "much rejoiced me, being resolved to give up the Savannah living as soon as I arrived in Georgia. A parish and the orphan-house together are too much for me; besides, God seems to show me it is my duty to evangelize, and not to fix in any particular place." Here he was met by William Tennent also, and after much conversation and prayer, it was settled that Gilbert Tennent should go to Boston to carry on the work so happily begun there. After preaching, exhortation, and prayer, Whitefield went with Davenport to Trenton, and so on to Philadelphia. On their way, they were twice remarkably preserved from drowning in creeks much swollen by the rains; and late on a very dark Saturday night arrived in the city, which had been already honored by his usefulness.

On the following day, he twice preached in the house which his friends were now building for him, and in which Gilbert Tennent labored for many years with great success. He says, "It is one hundred feet long and seventy feet broad. A large gallery is to be erected all around in it. Many footsteps of Providence have been visible in beginning and carrying it on. Both in the morning and evening God's glory filled the house, for there was great power in the congregation. The roof is not yet up, but the people raised a convenient pulpit and boarded the bottom. The joy of most of the hearers when they saw me was inexpressible. Between services, I received a packet of letters from England, dated in March last. May the Lord heal, and bring good out of the divisions which at present seem to be among the brethren there. God giving me freedom, and many friends being in the room, I kneeled down and prayed with and exhorted them all. But Oh, how did they melt under both; my soul was much rejoiced to look round on them."

A fact in connection with the building of this church edifice illustrates the practical philosophy of Dr. Franklin. Tennent waited on him for aid in the erection of the house, which was cheerfully afforded; the philosopher was asked by Tennent as to the best method of raising the necessary funds, who instantly recommended him to call at every house in the town to solicit help. He argued thus: "Many are really desirous to give, and will be glad to see you; others are inclined to be friendly, and will give if they are urged; a third will be sure, if they are omitted, to say they would have given had they been asked; and a fourth class will give you, rather than have it said they refused." Tennent acted on the doctor's counsel, and the funds were raised without difficulty.

Two instances of the happy influence of the truth in the conversion of sinners, in connection with this visit, must be given from Whitefield's own pen. The first related to a Mr. Brockden, a lawyer eminent in his profession, and the recorder of deeds for the city. For many years this gentleman had been distinguished for Deism. Whitefield writes, "In his younger days he had some religious impressions, but going into business, the cares of the world so choked the good seed, that he not only forgot his God in some degree, but at length began to doubt of and to dispute his very being. In this state he continued many years, and has been very zealous to propagate his deistical, I could almost say atheistical principles among moral men; but he told me he never endeavored to make proselytes of vicious, debauched people. When I came to Philadelphia, this time twelvemonth, he told me he had not so much as a curiosity to hear me. But a brother Deist, his choicest friend, pressed him to come and hear me. To satisfy his curiosity, he at length complied with the request. I preached at the court-house stairs, upon the conference which the Lord had with Nicodemus. I had not spoken much before the Lord struck his heart. 'For,' said he, 'I saw your doctrine tended to make people good.' His family knew not that he had been to hear me. After he came home, his wife, who had been at sermon, came in also, and wished heartily that he had heard me. He said nothing. After this, another of his family came in, repeating the same wish; and, if I mistake not, after that another; till at last, being unable to refrain any longer, with tears in his eyes, he said, 'Why, I have been hearing him;' and then expressed his approbation. Ever since he has followed on to know the Lord; and I verily believe Jesus Christ has made himself manifest to his soul. Though upwards of threescore years old, he is now, I believe, born again of God. He is as a little child, and often, as he told me, receives such communications from God, when he retires into the woods, that he thinks he could die a martyr for the truth."

CHAPTER VIII.
FIRST AND SECOND VISITS TO SCOTLAND – LABORS IN ENGLAND AND WALES.
1740-1744

We have seen the spirit in which Mr. Whitefield returned to London, and the cool manner in which he was too generally received. It is painful to say that this coldness was not confined to enemies of the truth; it appeared in some degree in eminent dissenting ministers, as Watts and Bradbury, Barker, and even, to some extent, Doddridge. A plan had a few years before been agitated to restore the dissenters to the church, usually called the Comprehension scheme, and assuredly, under the circumstances, friendship with Whitefield was by no means favorable to such a plan being accomplished, though it was at this period greatly desired by many of both parties. Still, however, good was done; Whitefield preached, and God was glorified. More union between Christians in advancing the cause of Christ would have been exceedingly desirable, but even the want of this was not permitted to stay the progress of this man of God.

One of the most popular and useful ministers employed by Whitefield and his friends at this time was John Cennick, the author of two well-known hymns, beginning,

"Jesus, thy blood and righteousness;"

"Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone."

He was the preacher who, in Ireland, discoursed from the text, "Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes," which gave occasion for the Methodists in that country to be called "Swaddlers." The parents of this excellent man were Quakers, who had been imprisoned in Reading jail for the maintenance of their religious principles. This persecution reduced them from respectability to want, so that, like John Bunyan, they were forced to make shoe-laces in prison for their support.

The conversion of the son was very remarkable. His first deep and lasting religious convictions flashed upon his mind like lightning from heaven, while walking in the crowds of Cheapside, in London. The effects were soon manifested; he became a new man, pursuing a new course, and entering on a new work. His ministry was very efficient, his views of truth were evangelical, his public speaking popular, his zeal so great as sometimes to lead him to preach six times in one day – all which labors were followed with abundant success.

Mr. Cennick was rather below the middle stature, of a fair countenance, and though by no means robust in health, he knew little of timidity. The spirit in which he discharged his ministry may be seen in a letter he wrote to a friend: "We sang a hymn, and then the devil led on his servants; they began beating a drum, and then made fires of gunpowder: at first the poor flock was startled; but while God gave me power to speak encouragingly to them, they waxed bolder, and very few moved. The mob then fired guns over the people's heads, and began to play a water engine upon brother Harris and myself, till we were wet through. They also played an engine upon us with hog's-wash and grounds of beer-barrels, and covered us with muddy water from a ditch; they pelted us with eggs and stones, threw baskets of dust over us, and fired their guns so close to us that our faces were black with the powder; but, in nothing terrified, we remained praying. I think I never saw or felt so great a power of God as was there. In the midst of the confused multitude, I saw a man laboring above measure, earnest to fill the buckets with water to throw upon us. I asked him, 'What harm do we do? Why are you so furious against us? We only come to tell you that Christ loved you, and died for you.' He stepped back a little for room, and threw a bucket of water in my face. When I had recovered myself, I said, 'My dear man, if God should so pour his wrath upon you, what would become of you? Yet I tell you that Christ loves you.' He threw away the bucket, let fall his trembling hands, and looked as pale as death; he then shook hands with me, and parted from me, I believe under strong convictions."

Mr. Cennick had heretofore labored with Whitefield and Wesley, but now adhered to the former, and labored very successfully in the Tabernacle. After some years he united with the Moravian brethren, and died in triumph at thirty-five.

In the summer of 1741, some three or four months after his arrival from America, Whitefield paid his first visit to Scotland. The state of religion in that country at the commencement of the ministry of this distinguished evangelist, has been already glanced at. It is here important to remark, that in 1740 an indication of better things began to appear in several places, especially in Cambuslang, under the ministry of the Rev. Mr. M'Culloch. This excellent man, for nearly a year before the revival began, had been preaching to his people on those subjects which tend most directly to explain the nature and prove the necessity of regeneration, according to the different aspects in which it is represented in the holy Scriptures. The church edifice had become too small for the congregation, and the minister, in favorable weather, frequently conducted the public worship on a green brae on the east side of a deep ravine near the church, scooped out in the form of an amphitheatre. In this retired and romantic spot, the worthy pastor preached in the most impressive manner to the listening multitudes, and not unfrequently, after his sermons, detailed to them the astonishing effects of Whitefield's preaching in America, which did not a little to increase the interest of the people, as well as lead them to wish to see such an extraordinary preacher.

While on his voyage to Scotland, Whitefield gave evidence that he had not forgotten America. In his second visit to America, he had become intimately acquainted with the Rev. Daniel Rodgers of Exeter, New Hampshire, a direct descendant of the seventh generation of John Rogers, who was burnt at the stake for the testimony of Christ in the days of the bloody Mary. It is not surprising that Whitefield's original letter to him, now in the possession of the family of the grandson of Daniel Rodgers, is highly valued. It is dated on board the Mary and Ann, bound from London to Scotland, July 25, 1741.

"My dear Brother Rodgers – How glad was I to receive a letter from your hands, having heard nothing from you or of you particularly since we parted. Oh, what great things has the Lord shown us since that time! methinks I hear you say; and yet I can tell of greater things. And I believe we shall see far greater yet before we die. The work is beginning afresh here. I sometimes think brother Gilbert [Tennent] must take a voyage to old England. Most of our London ministers too much shun the cross, and do not appear boldly for God. Now the Lord has worked so powerfully in your college, I have less to object against your joining Mr. Web. I am glad to hear that you speak plain and close. What comfort will this afford you in a dying hour. Go on, my dear brother, go on; venture daily upon Christ. Go out in his strength, and he will enable us to do wonders. He is with me more and more. I have sweetly been carried through the heat and burning of every day's labor. Jesus bears all my burdens. Jesus enables me to cast all my care upon him. Oh then, let us magnify his name together. I am now going to Scotland, knowing not what will befall me. What God does, you may expect to hear of shortly. In the meanwhile, let us pray for and write to each other. As iron sharpeneth iron, so do the letters of a man his friend. Your last I have printed. God's glory called me to it.

"My dear brother, adieu. Dear brother Sims sits by and salutes you. My kind love awaits Mr. Web, and all who love the Lord in sincerity. In hopes of receiving another letter from you shortly, I subscribe myself, dear Mr. Rodgers, your most affectionate, though very unworthy brother and servant in the sweetest Jesus,

"G. W."

Among those who were most anxious that Mr. Whitefield should visit Scotland, were the Rev. Messrs. Ebenezer and Ralph Erskine. These two excellent brothers had separated themselves from the established church, chiefly on the ground of its cold formalism, and with some other zealous ministers had formed what has since been known as the Associate Presbytery. Their wish was, that in coming to Scotland, Whitefield should preach only in connection with their body, and so help forward the work in which they were engaged. To this he objected, regarding himself as an evangelist at large. As he proceeded, they rather opposed him, as not sufficiently particular and discriminative in his zeal. They wished him not to labor in the church from which they had seceded, saying, "God had left it." "Then," said he, "it is the more necessary for me to preach in it, to endeavor to bring him back. I'll preach Christ wherever they'll let me." On the 30th of July he arrived in Edinburgh, where he was urged to preach, but declined till he had seen the Messrs. Erskine; and accordingly proceeded to Dunfermline. Writing on the 1st of August, he says, "I went yesterday to Dunfermline, where dear Mr. Ralph Erskine hath got a large and separate, or as it is commonly termed, seceding meeting-house. He received me very lovingly. I preached to his and the town's people – a very thronged assembly. After I had done prayers and named my text, the rustling made by opening the Bibles all at once quite surprised me – a scene I never was witness to before."

On the day following, Whitefield returned to Edinburgh, accompanied by Mr. Ralph Erskine, and preached in the Orphan-house park to a large and attentive audience. His text was, "The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." Rom. 14:17. After the sermon, a large company, including some of the nobility, came to bid him God-speed; and among others a portly Quaker, a nephew of the Messrs. Erskine, who, taking him by the hand, said, "Friend George, I am as thou art; I am for bringing all to the life and power of the ever-living God; and therefore, if thou wilt not quarrel with me about my hat, I will not quarrel with thee about thy gown." On Sabbath evening, he preached in the same place, to upwards of fifteen thousand persons; and on the evenings of Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, to nearly as many; on Tuesday in the Canongate church; on Wednesday and Thursday at Dunfermline; and on Friday morning at Queensferry. "Everywhere," says he, "the auditories were large and very attentive. Great power accompanied the word. Many have been brought under convictions, and I have already received invitations to different places, which, God willing, I intend to comply with." Writing a week later, he says, "It would make your heart leap for joy to be now in Edinburgh. I question if there be not upwards of three hundred in this city seeking after Jesus. Every morning I have a constant levee of wounded souls, many of whom are quite slain by the law. God's power attends the word continually, just as when I left London. At seven in the morning we have a lecture in the fields, attended not only by the common people, but also by persons of rank. I have reason to think that several of the latter sort are coming to Jesus. Little children also are much wrought upon. God much blesses my letters from the little orphans, [girls in the hospital.] He loves to work by contemptible means. Oh, my dear brother, I am quite amazed when I think what God has done here in a fortnight. My printed sermons and journals have been blessed in an uncommon manner. I am only afraid lest people should idolize the instrument, and not look enough to the glorious Jesus, in whom alone I desire to glory. Congregations consist of many thousands. Never did I see so many Bibles, nor people looking into them, while I am expounding, with so much attention. Plenty of tears flow from the hearers' eyes. Their emotions appear in various ways. I preach twice daily, and expound at private houses at night, and am employed in speaking to souls under distress great part of the day. I have just snatched a few moments to write to my dear brother. Oh, that God may enlarge your heart to pray for me. This afternoon I preach out of town, and also to-morrow. Next post, God willing, you shall have another letter. I walk continually in the comforts of the Holy Ghost. The love of Christ quite strikes me dumb. O grace, grace! let that be my song. Adieu."

In this manner Whitefield continued to preach very extensively over Scotland; and early in September he arrived at Glasgow. On the eleventh of that month he began his labors in the High Church-yard, and for five days in succession preached there twice a day – at an early hour in the morning, and again in the evening. The expectations of the people were high, not only in Glasgow, but all around, and crowds flocked to hear him preach. Morning after morning, and evening after evening, that vast church-yard, almost paved as it is with tombstones, was crowded with living worshippers, trembling under the word. But not satisfied with hearing, the pen of the ready writer was from day to day at work, and each sermon was printed by itself, and put immediately into circulation. His sermons were characterized by great simplicity, as if the language of the preacher merely expressed what he felt, and yet there was so much earnestness, and so much closeness of application, as to account for the effects they produced. He was in the pulpit very much what Baxter was in the press. He spoke as a man realizing all that he said, and laying open the feelings of his own heart in addressing the hearts of others.

Very few men better knew the human heart than Whitefield. He seemed to know all the thoughts and feelings of his hearers, and the best way in which to meet them. He once preached in Scotland from the text, "The door was shut." Matt. 25:10. A respectable lady who heard him sat near the door, a considerable distance from the pulpit, and observed two showy and trifling young men who appeared to turn the solemn appeals of the preacher into ridicule; she heard one of them say in a low tone to the other, "Well, what if the door be shut? another will open." In a very few minutes, to the great surprise of the lady, Mr. Whitefield said, "It is possible there may be some careless, trifling person here to-day, who may ward off the force of this impressive subject by lightly thinking, 'What matter if the door be shut? another will open.'" The two young men looked at each other as though they were paralyzed, as the preacher proceeded: "Yes, another door will open; and I will tell you what door it will be: it will be the door of the bottomless pit, the door of hell! – the door which conceals from the eyes of angels the horrors of damnation."

After Mr. Whitefield's return to England, at the close of October, among many letters which followed him, detailing the results of his labors, was one from Mr. M'Culloch, the excellent minister already referred to:

"As it is matter of joy and thankfulness to God, who sent you hither, and gave you so much countenance, and so remarkably crowned your labors with success here at Glasgow, so I doubt not but the following account of the many seals to your ministry in and about that city, will be very rejoicing to your heart, especially as the kingdom of our glorious Redeemer is so much advanced thereby, and as the everlasting happiness of souls is promoted. I am well informed by some ministers, and other judicious and experienced Christians, that there are to the amount of fifty persons already known, in and about Glasgow, who appear to be savingly converted, through the blessing and power of God on your ten sermons. And there are, besides these, several others apparently under conviction, but not reckoned, as being still doubtful. Several Christians also, of considerable standing, were much strengthened, revived, and comforted by what they heard. They were made to rejoice in hope of the glory of God, having attained to the full assurance of faith. Among those lately converted, there are several young people who were before openly wicked and flagitious, or at best but very negligent as to spiritual things; and yet they are now in the way of salvation. Some young converts are yet under doubts and fears, but a considerable number of them have attained to peace and joy in believing. Several of those who were lately wrought on in a gracious way, seem to outstrip Christians of considerable standing, in spiritual-mindedness, and in many other good qualifications; particularly in their zeal for the conversion of others, in their love to ordinances, and in their freedom from bigotry and party zeal. Those converted by your ministry have not been discovered at once, but only from time to time. A good many of them have been discovered only of late. Their convictions were at first less pungent, and through the discouragements they met with in the families where they resided, as well as from their own feelings, they endeavored for a time to conceal their state. These circumstances afford ground for hoping, that there are yet others who may afterwards become known. Besides such as have been awakened through the power of God accompanying your sermons, there have been others who have been since awakened, and who have been discovered in consequence of the change observable in their conduct. These, dear brother, are a few hints concerning some of the most remarkable things, as to the blessing which accompanied your labors at Glasgow."

At Edinburgh, when first visited by Whitefield, many persons of the highest rank constantly attended his ministry. Among them were the Marquis of Lothian, the Earl of Leven, Lord Ray, Lady Mary Hamilton, Lady Frances Gardiner, Lady Jane Nimms, and Lady Dirleton; and at some one of their houses he expounded almost every evening. Numbers of ministers and students crowded to hear him; and aged Christians told him they could set their seal to what he preached.

In connection with this first visit to Edinburgh, several incidents have been related which show the power that accompanied his preaching, and the skill with which he could seize upon passing circumstances, and apply them to the great purpose which he always had in view. A gentleman, on returning from one of his sermons, was met on his way home by an eminent minister whom he usually heard, and who expressed great surprise that he should go to hear such a man. The gentleman replied, "Sir, when I hear you, I am planting trees all the time; but during the whole of Mr. Whitefield's sermon, I could not find time to plant one." A similar instance is related of a ship-builder, who usually could "build a ship from stem to stern during the sermon; but under Mr. Whitefield, could not lay a single plank."

Another narrative has been thus given. An unhappy man who had forfeited his life to the offended laws of his country, was executed in that neighborhood. Mr. Whitefield mingled with the crowd collected on the occasion, and was much impressed with the decorum and solemnity which were observable in the awful scene. His appearance, however, drew the eyes of all upon him, and produced a variety of opinions as to the motives which led him to join the multitude.

The next day, being Sunday, he preached to a very large congregation in a field near the city; and in the course of his sermon, he adverted to the scenes of the preceding day. "I know," said he, "that many of you may find it difficult to reconcile my appearance yesterday with my clerical character. Many of you, I know, will say that my moments would have been better employed in praying for the unhappy man, than in attending him to the fatal tree; and that perhaps curiosity was the only cause that converted me into a spectator on that occasion; but those who ascribe that uncharitable motive to me, are under a mistake. I went as an observer of human nature, and to see the effect that such an occurrence would have on those who witnessed it. I watched the conduct of those who were present on that awful occasion, and I was highly pleased with their demeanor, which has given me a very favorable opinion of the Scottish nation. Your sympathy was visible on your countenances; particularly when the moment arrived that your unhappy fellow-creature was to close his eyes on this world for ever. Then you all, as if moved by one impulse, turned your heads aside, and wept. Those tears were precious, and will be held in remembrance. How different it was when the Saviour of mankind was extended on the cross! The Jews, instead of sympathizing in his sorrows, triumphed in them. They reviled him with bitter expressions, with words even more bitter than the gall and vinegar which they handed him to drink. Not one of all who witnessed his pains, turned his head aside, even in the last pang. Yes, my friends, there was one– that glorious luminary," pointing to the sun, "veiled his brightness, and travelled on his course in tenfold night."

On another occasion, near the same city, and probably in the field to which we have already referred, under the shade of a venerable tree, in a lovely meadow, a poor unhappy man, thinking to turn him into ridicule, placed himself on one of the overhanging boughs, immediately above the preacher's head, and with monkey-like dexterity mimicking his gestures, endeavored to raise a laugh in the audience. Guided by the looks of some of his hearers, Whitefield caught a glance of him, but without seeming to have noticed him, continued his discourse. With the skill of a wise orator, he reserved the incident for the proper place and time. While forcibly speaking on the power and sovereignty of divine grace, with increasing earnestness he spoke of the unlikely objects it had often chosen, and the unlooked for triumphs it had achieved. As he rose to the climax of his inspiring theme, and when in the full sweep of his eloquence, he suddenly paused, and turning round, and pointing slowly to the poor creature above him, he exclaimed, in a tone of deep and thrilling pathos, "Even he may yet be the subject of that free and resistless grace." It was a shaft from the Almighty. Winged by the divine Spirit, it struck the scoffer to the heart, and realized in his conversion the glorious truth it contained.

Yet another fact may be told connected with Whitefield and Edinburgh. When he was once there, a regiment of soldiers were stationed in the city, in which was a sergeant whose name was Forbes, a very abandoned man, who, everywhere he could do so, run in debt for liquor, with which he was almost at all times drunk. His wife washed for the regiment, and thus obtained a little money. She was a pious woman, but all her attempts to reclaim her husband were unsuccessful. During one of Mr. Whitefield's visits to the city, she offered her husband a sum of money, if he would for once go and hear the eloquent preacher. This was a strong inducement, and he engaged to go. The sermon was in a field, as no building could have contained the audience. The sergeant was rather early, and placed himself in the middle of the field, that he might file off when Mr. Whitefield ascended the pulpit; as he only wished to be able to say that he had seen him. The crowd, however, increased; and when the preacher appeared, they pressed forward, and the sergeant found it impossible to get away. The prayer produced some impression on his mind, but the sermon convinced him of his sinfulness and danger. He became a changed man, and showed the reality of his conversion by living for many years in a very penurious manner, till he had satisfied the claims of every one of his creditors.

One fact more should be stated in connection with this visit. Mr. James Ogilvie was one of the ministers of Aberdeen. This city was not in that day, nor indeed in any part of the eighteenth century, warmly attached to a fully-exhibited gospel. At this time, however, both Mr. Ogilvie and his colleague, Mr. Bisset, who, as Sir Henry Moncrieff says, was the highest of the High church, were evangelical, though otherwise very opposite men. "Though colleagues of the same congregation," says Whitefield, "they are very different in their natural temper. The one is, what they call in Scotland, a sweet-blooded man, the other of a choleric disposition. Mr. Bisset is neither a seceder nor quite a true kirkman, having great fault to find with both. Soon after my arrival, dear Mr. Ogilvie took me to pay my respects to him. He was prepared for it, and pulled out a paper containing a great number of insignificant queries, which I had neither time nor inclination to answer." For several years Mr. Ogilvie had been corresponding with Mr. Whitefield to induce him to visit Aberdeen, hoping that some good might be done; and as he was himself to preach on Sabbath forenoon in presence of the magistrates, he gave Mr. Whitefield his place. The congregation was large, and apparently much interested. Mr. Bisset, in the afternoon, preached against Mr. Whitefield by name. Mr. Ogilvie, without either consulting his friend, or noticing the conduct of his colleague, stood up, after the sermon, and intimated to the congregation that Mr. Whitefield would again preach in about half an hour. The magistrates remained in the session-house, and the people hastened back, expecting to bear a reply. Mr. Whitefield, waiving as much as possible all controversial matter, preached Christ. The audience was silent, solemn, and deeply impressed. Next day, the magistrates apologized for their minister; and as a mark of their own respect, presented to Mr. Whitefield the freedom of their city. The effect of this visit to Aberdeen was great and beneficial.

In 1742, Mr. Whitefield again visited Scotland. In the mean time he had heard that his dear friends the Erskines had become greatly offended, on account of what they considered his lax views of church government. But notwithstanding this difference with the seceders, he was received by great numbers, among whom were some persons of distinction, with cordiality and joy, and had the satisfaction of hearing more and more of the happy fruits of his ministry. At Edinburgh he again preached twice a day, as before, in the Hospital-park, where a number of seats and shades, in the form of an amphitheatre, were erected for the accommodation of his hearers. On the day of his arrival at Cambuslang, he preached three times to an immense body of people, although he had preached that same morning at Glasgow. The last service continued till eleven o'clock; and so much were the people interested, that Mr. M'Culloch, after preaching till past one in the morning, could scarcely persuade them to depart. Mr. Whitefield himself thus describes the scene: "Persons from all parts flocked to see, and many, from many parts, went home convinced and converted to God. A brae, or hill, near the manse at Cambuslang, seemed to be formed by Providence for containing a large congregation. People sat unwearied till two in the morning, to hear sermons, disregarding the weather. You could scarcely walk a yard, but you must tread upon some either rejoicing in God for mercies received, or crying out for more. Thousands and thousands have I seen, before it was possible to catch it by sympathy, melted down under the word and power of God. At the celebration of the holy communion, their joy was so great, that, at the desire of many, both ministers and people, in imitation of Hezekiah's passover, they had, a month or two afterwards, a second, which was a general rendezvous of the people of God. The communion was in the field; three tents, at proper distances, all surrounded with a multitude of hearers; above twenty ministers, among whom was good old Mr. Bonner, attending to preach and assist, all enlivening and enlivened by one another."

In addition to his labors at Glasgow and Cambuslang, it is surprising to observe the number of places in the west of Scotland which Whitefield visited in the course of a few weeks; preaching wherever he went, with his usual frequency, energy, and success. A gentleman of piety and intelligence thus refers to one of them several years afterwards: "When Mr. Whitefield was preaching at Kilmarnock, on the twenty-third of August, from the words, 'And of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace,' I thought I never heard such a sermon; and from the era above mentioned, I have always looked upon him as my spiritual father, and frequently heard him afterwards in Edinburgh and Glasgow with much satisfaction. When Cape Breton was taken, I happened to be at Edinburgh, and being invited to breakfast with Mr. Whitefield, I never, in all my life, enjoyed such another breakfast. He gave the company a fine and lively descant upon that part of the world, made us all join in a hymn of praise and thanksgiving, and concluded with a most devout and fervent prayer." About the end of October, Whitefield returned to London.

Probably few are aware that Mr. Whitefield visited Scotland no less than fourteen times. These visits extended over a period of twenty-seven years, beginning in 1741, and ending in 1768. In none of his visits after 1742 were there the same extensive awakenings as in his first two visits, yet his coming was always refreshing to serious persons, infusing new life, and increasing their numbers. Young people, too, were much benefited by his ministry, and especially young students, who afterwards became zealous and evangelical preachers. His morning discourses, which were generally intended for sincere but disconsolate souls, were peculiarly fitted to direct and encourage such in the Christian life; and his addresses in the evening to the promiscuous multitudes who then attended him, were powerful and alarming. There was great solemnity in his evening congregations in the Orphan-house park at Edinburgh and the High Church-yard at Glasgow, especially towards the conclusion of his sermons – which were usually long, though they seemed short to his hearers – when the whole multitude stood fixed, and like one man, hung upon his lips with silent attention, and many were under deep religious impressions.

CHAPTER IX.
WHITEFIELD'S SECOND VISIT TO NEW ENGLAND.
1744, 1745

Mr. Whitefield commenced his third voyage to America in August, 1744. His health while crossing the Atlantic became worse, rather than better, the voyage lasting eleven weeks. He had set out in company with about one hundred and fifty ships, attended by several men-of-war as convoys, which, however, they lost by storms separating them on the way. It was more than six weeks, owing generally to want of wind, before they reached any of the western islands. When the wind again sprung up, one of the vessels, which missed stays, drove upon the ship in which Whitefield was, striking her mainsail into the bowsprit. The alarm was very great, but no lives were lost. He had been singing a hymn on deck when the concussion took place; this fact, together with that of the concussion itself, was communicated to the convoy, and led to the use of much violent and wicked language. But the good man was not intimidated. He says, "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. Show thyself, O God, and take us under thine own immediate protection. Be thou our convoy, and make a difference between those who fear thee, and those that fear thee not.'" A difference was soon made. Next day a heavy storm arose, which "battered and sent away our convoy, so that we saw him no more all the voyage." Whitefield at first did not at all regret the loss, but when two strange sails appeared in the distance, and preparation was made for action by mounting guns, slinging hammocks on the sides of the ships, and encircling the masts with chains, he being, as he says, "naturally a coward," found it formidable to have no convoy. The vessels, however, proved to be only a part of their own fleet. This was a pleasant discovery to them, especially to Whitefield. "The captain, on clearing the cabin, said, 'After all, this is the best fighting.' You may be sure I concurred, praying that all our conflicts with spiritual enemies might at last terminate in a thorough cleansing and an eternal purification of the defiled cabin of our hearts."

The tediousness of this voyage, in the feeble state of his health, seems to have tried Whitefield's patience; so that when he arrived in sight of the port of York, in the then territory of Maine, in order to land a few hours sooner he went on board a fishing smack then in the bay; but darkness coming on, she missed her course, and was tossed about all night. Unfortunately, too, she had no provisions, and he was so hungry that he says he "could have gnawed the very boards." Besides he was suffering from "nervous colic." He was greatly discouraged, until a man who was lying at his elbow in the cabin began to talk of "one Mr. Whitefield, for whose arrival the 'New Lights' in New England" were watching and praying. "This," he says, "made me take courage. I continued undiscovered; and in a few hours, in answer, I trust, to new-light prayers, we arrived safe." This was on October 19, 1744. He was quite ill when he landed; but was received by Dr. Sherburne, an eminent physician at York, who was once a Deist, but had been converted under Whitefield's ministry. This gentleman took him to his own house, and after a few days he began to recover.

The Rev. Mr. Moody, of York, the aged and excellent, but eccentric minister of whom we have already spoken, took the earliest suitable opportunity of calling on the great evangelist, and said very characteristically, "Sir, you are, first, welcome to America; secondly, to New England; thirdly, to all faithful ministers in New England; fourthly, to all the good people of New England; fifthly, to all the good people of York; and sixthly and lastly, to me, dear sir, less than the least of all." Prince's "Christian History" had announced his arrival, and that his intention was "to pass on to Georgia; and as he goes on, to meddle with no controversies, but only to preach up the parts of vital piety and the pure truths of the gospel, to all who are willing to hear them."

After giving Whitefield this hearty welcome, Moody urged him for a sermon. The preacher hesitated, on account of his illness, but "good old Mr. Moody" did not give him the benefit of his own favorite maxim, "When you know not what to do, you must not do you know not what." Whitefield preached, and immediately went to Portsmouth, where he preached the same evening, November 6, for Mr. Fitch, and was to have preached again the next morning, but was too ill, and deferred it till the afternoon. In the mean time, as he wrote, "My pains returned; but what gave me most concern was, that notice had been given of my being engaged to preach. I felt a divine life, distinct from my animal life, which made me, as it were, laugh at my pains, though every one thought I was taken with death. My dear York physician was then about to administer a medicine. I on a sudden cried out, 'Doctor, my pains are suspended; by the help of God, I will go and preach, and then come home and die.' With some difficulty I reached the pulpit. All looked quite surprised, as though they saw one risen from the dead. I indeed was as pale as death, and told them they must look upon me as a dying man, come to bear my dying testimony to the truths I had formerly preached to them. All seemed melted, and were drowned in tears. The cry after me, when I left the pulpit, was like the cry of sincere mourners when attending the funeral of a dear departed friend. Upon my coming home, I was laid upon a bed on the ground, near the fire, and I heard them say, 'He is gone.' But God was pleased to order it otherwise. I gradually recovered."

In another account he himself says, "In my own apprehension, and in all appearance to others, I was a dying man. I preached – the people heard me – as such. The invisible realities of another world lay open to my view. Expecting to launch into eternity, and to be with my Master before the morning, I spoke with peculiar energy. Such effects followed the word, I thought it was worth dying for a thousand times. Though wonderfully comforted within at my return home, I thought I was dying indeed… Soon after, a poor negro woman would see me. She came, sat down upon the ground, and looked earnestly in my face, and then said, 'Massa, you just go to heaven's gate, but Jesus Christ said, Get you down, get you down; you must not come here yet; but go first, and call some more poor negroes.' I prayed to the Lord, that if I was to live, this might be the event."

It was nearly three weeks before he was sufficiently recovered to proceed to Boston. The day before he left Portsmouth Mr. Shurtleff wrote, "The prejudices of most that set themselves against him before his coming, seem to be in a great measure abated, and in some, to be wholly removed; and there is no open opposition made to him. I have frequent opportunities of being with him, and there always appears in him such a concern for the advancement of the Redeemer's kingdom and the good of souls, such a care to employ his whole time to these purposes, such sweetness of disposition, and so much of the temper of his great Lord and Master, that every time I see him, I find my heart further drawn out towards him."

"Prince's Christian History," of December 15, says, "The Rev. Mr. Whitefield was so far revived as to be able to take coach with his consort, and set out from Portsmouth to Boston, Nov. 24; whither he came in a very feeble state, the Monday evening after; since which he has been able to preach in several of our largest houses of public worship, particularly the Rev. Dr. Colman's, Dr. Sewall's, Mr. Webb's, and Mr. Gee's, to crowded assemblies of people, and to great and growing acceptance. At Dr. Colman's desire, and with the consent of the church, on the Lord's day after his arrival, he administered to them the holy communion. And last Lord's day he preached for the venerable Mr. Cheever, of Chelsea, and administered the holy supper there. The next day he preached for the Rev. Mr. Emerson, of Malden. Yesterday he set out to preach for some towns to the northward; proposes to return hither the next Wednesday evening, and after a few days to comply with the earnest invitations of several ministers to go and preach to their congregations, in the southern parts of the province.

"He comes with the same extraordinary spirit of meekness, sweetness, and universal benevolence as before. In opposition to the spirit of separation and bigotry, he is still for holding communion with all Protestant churches. In opposition to enthusiasm, he preaches a close adherence to the Scriptures, the necessity of trying all impressions by them, and of rejecting whatever is not agreeable to them, as delusions. In opposition to Antinomianism, he preaches up all kinds of relative and religious duties, though to be performed in the strength of Christ; and, in short, the doctrines of the church of England, and the first fathers of this country. As before, he first applies himself to the understandings of his hearers, and then to the affections; and the more he preaches, the more he convinces people of their mistakes about him, and increases their satisfaction."

The administration of the Lord's supper by a priest of the church of England in the Congregational church in Brattle-street, Boston, gave great offence. Some said, the consent of the church was neither given nor asked, and Dr. Colman was blamed for introducing Whitefield by his own authority; to which Dr. Colman replied, that, as it was customary for pastors to invite the assistance of other ministers on such occasions, he thought it unnecessary to call for a vote of the church; that he plainly intimated his intention in his prayer after sermon, and then, on coming to the table, said, "The Rev. Mr. Whitefield being providentially with us, I have asked him to administer the ordinance;" and that by the countenances of the people it seemed to be universally agreeable to them, which he supposed to be all the consent which the case required.

Since Mr. Whitefield's former visit to New England, a considerable change had taken place in not a few of the ministers and churches. In 1740, he had inveighed strongly against many of the ministers, some of them even by name, as, in his opinion, unconverted; and after his departure, some preachers, who professed themselves to be his followers, had created great confusion by carrying these charges much farther than he would have approved. His second visit was therefore anticipated by many with anxiety, lest it might cause a new outbreak of enthusiasm and disorder. The General Association of Connecticut, in June, 1745, advised that he be not invited to preach in any of the churches. When he visited New Haven, he found himself shut out of the pulpit of the First church by its minister Mr. Noyes. A great crowd, however, assembled to hear him, from the neighboring towns, as well as from New Haven, and he preached from a platform erected in the street, before Mr. Pierpont's house on the Green, to a congregation which neither of the meeting-houses could have contained.

From Professor Kingsley's "Sketch of the History of Yale College," we learn that "President Clap issued a declaration, signed by himself and three tutors, that is, Samuel Whittlesey, afterwards minister of the First church in New Haven, Thomas Darling, for many years chief justice of the Court of Common Pleas for the county of New Haven, and John Whiting, in which some of the proceedings of Mr. Whitefield were condemned. In consequence of the religious fervor which had been excited, a much greater diversity of theological opinions prevailed in Connecticut than at any previous period. Violent controversies arose, churches were divided, and the government, by interfering to prevent these evils, increased rather than checked them. The college became an object of jealousy; and the declaration of the rector and tutors, respecting the preaching of Whitefield, offended some, without effectually conciliating others."

The opposition to Mr. Whitefield of which we have spoken, was by no means all that he met with. Even before the Association in Connecticut had taken action, several similar bodies in Massachusetts had acted in a similar manner. The corporation of Harvard college published a testimony against him, while that of Yale represented that he intended to root out all the standing ministers in our land, and to introduce foreigners in their stead. The good man, notwithstanding all this opposition, and much more, went on laboring for the salvation of souls, and God still honored him with success.

While the impartiality to which we hold ourselves bound demanded the statement just made, and while we are compelled to admit the existence of evils attendant on these revivals, we also record some of the facts connected with a convention of ministers, who assembled in Boston in pursuance of a previous notice in the Boston Gazette of May 30, 1743. We copy the original invitation.

"It is desired and proposed by a number of ministers, both in town and country, that such of their brethren as are persuaded that there has been of late a happy revival of religion through an extraordinary divine influence, in many parts of this land, and are concerned for the honor and progress of this remarkable work of God, may have an interview at Boston, the day after the approaching commencement, to consider whether they are not called to give an open, conjunct testimony to an event so surprising and gracious; as well as against those errors in doctrine, and disorders in practice, which through the permitted agency of Satan have attended it, and in any measure blemished its glory and hindered its advancement; and also to consult as to the most likely method to be taken to guard people against such delusions and mistakes as in such a season they are in danger of falling into, and that this blessed work may continue and flourish among us." Those who could not be present were invited to send written attestations.

In accordance with this proposal, the convention met in Boston on Thursday, July 7. The Rev. Dr. Sewall of Boston officiated as Moderator, and the Rev. Messrs. Prince of Boston, and Hobby of Reading, as Scribes. Ninety persons thus assembled, and letters were read from twenty-eight who were absent. A committee was appointed, consisting of the Rev. Dr. Sewall, the Rev. Messrs. Wigglesworth, Prince, Adams, Cooper, Nathanael Rogers, Leonard, and Hobby, to prepare a report. On the next morning this committee presented a document, which, after full discussion, was signed by all present; and the meeting was dissolved.

Our limits will not allow us to give the whole of the report to which we have referred, but a few sentences will show its general character:

"We, whose names are undersigned, think it our indispensable duty – without judging or censuring such of our brethren as cannot at present see things in the same light with us – in this open and conjunct manner to declare, to the glory of sovereign grace, our full persuasion, either from what we have seen ourselves, or received upon credible testimony, that there has been a happy and remarkable revival of religion in many parts of this land, through an uncommon divine influence, after a long time of decay and deadness, and a sensible and very awful withdrawal of the Holy Spirit from his sanctuary among us… The present work seems to be remarkable and extraordinary, on account of the numbers wrought upon. We never before saw so many brought under soul concern, and with great distress making the inquiry, 'What must we do to be saved?' And these persons were of all ages and character. With regard to the suddenness and quick progress of it, many persons and places were surprised with the gracious visit together, or near about the same time, and the heavenly influence diffused itself far and wide, like the light of the morning. Also [the work seems to be remarkable] in respect to the degree of operations, both in a way of terror, and in a way of consolation, attended in many with unusual bodily effects. Not that all who are accounted the subjects of the present work have had these extraordinary degrees of previous distress and subsequent joy. But many, and we suppose the greater number, have been wrought on in a more gentle and silent way, and without any other appearances than are common and usual at other times, when persons have been awakened to a solemn concern about salvation, and have been thought to have passed out of a state of nature into a state of grace. As to those whose inward concern has occasioned extraordinary outward distresses, the most of them, when we came to converse with them, were able to give what appeared to us a rational account of what so affected their minds… The instances were very few in which we had reason to think these affections were produced by visionary or sensible representations, or by any other images than such as the Scripture itself presents to us. Of those who were judged hopefully converted, and made a public profession of religion, there have been fewer instances of scandal and apostasy than might be expected… There appears to be more experimental godliness and lively Christianity than most of us can remember we have ever seen before… And now we desire to bow the knee in thanksgiving to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that our eyes have seen and our ears heard such things. And while these are our sentiments, we must necessarily be grieved at any accounts sent abroad representing this work as all enthusiasm, delusion, and disorder. Indeed, it is not to be denied, that in some places many irregularities and extravagances have been permitted to accompany it, which we would deeply bewail and lament before God, and look upon ourselves obliged, for the honor of the Holy Spirit, and of his operations on the souls of men, to bear a public and faithful testimony against; though at the same time it is to be acknowledged, with much thankfulness, that in other places where the work has greatly flourished, there have been few if any of those disorders and excesses. But who can wonder if, at such a time as this, Satan should intermingle himself to hinder and blemish a work so directly contrary to the interests of his own kingdom?.. Finally, we exhort the children of God to continue instant in prayer, that He, with whom is the residue of the Spirit, would grant us fresh, more plentiful, and extensive effusions, that so this wilderness, in all the parts of it, may become a fruitful field; that the present appearances may be an earnest of the glorious things promised in the latter days, when she shall shine with the glory of the Lord arisen upon her, so as to dazzle the eyes of beholders, confound and put to shame all her enemies, rejoice the hearts of her solicitous and now saddened friends, and have a strong influence and resplendency throughout the earth. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus; come quickly."

This paper was signed by eighteen ministers in the county of Suffolk, among whom were Colman, Sewall, Prince, Webb, Cooper, Foxcroft, Checkly, Gee, Eliot, and Moorhead of Boston; twelve in the county of Essex, nine in Middlesex, six in Worcester, ten in Plymouth, one in Barnstable, three in Bristol, three in York, five in New Hampshire, and one in Rhode Island. There were one hundred and fourteen in all who gave attestations, either by signing their names to the above document, or by sending written attestations. Ninety-six of the one hundred and fourteen took their first degree of Bachelor of Arts more than ten years previously; consequently before the revival commenced. Twenty-six took their first degrees above thirty years before. Attestations were received but from twelve ministers in Connecticut, as the proposal did not reach them in time.

We may add to this statement, as showing in some degree the extent of this revival, that while in 1729 the number of members in the Congregational and Presbyterian churches of this country may be estimated at thirty-three thousand, the number of communicants in 1745 could not be less than seventy-five thousand. "The special revivals of religion," says an able writer in the "American Quarterly Register," vol. 4, 1832, "were probably the means of adding from twenty thousand to thirty thousand members to the churches." The same writer adds, "The genuine fruits of holiness appeared, according to the acknowledgment of all parties, in multitudes of those who professed religion. They were Christians, who endured unto the end. This is the unanimous testimony of those men who were the best able to judge. Great numbers who were convinced of sin by Mr. Whitefield's preaching, gave ample evidence, living and dying, of sincere and fervent love to the commands of God. There is reason to believe that a preparation had been made for the descent of the Holy Spirit, many years before the revival commenced. The fasts and public reformations, the prayers and tears of good men, from 1700 to 1730, were not in vain."

One fact connected with the testimony against Whitefield, published by the faculty of Harvard college, we quote, as showing that then, as well as now, a difference of opinion existed as to written and extempore sermons. They thought his extempore manner of preaching "by no means proper," because extempore preachers are of necessity less instructive, the greater part of the sermon being commonly "the same kind of harangue which they have often used before, so that this is a most lazy manner" of preaching; and because it exposes the preacher to utter rash expressions, and even dangerous errors, as Whitefield, they thought, had done in several instances, probably from that cause. Assuredly he preferred extempore preaching to any other; yet he never pretended to preach without previous study. His sermons usually cost him as much previous labor as if they had been written; so that, in his case at least, it was not "a lazy way" of preaching. The errors which they said he had uttered, were a few hasty expressions, which he had retracted as soon as he had been reminded of them.

Itinerancy, which had also been objected against Whitefield as one of his crimes, he strenuously defended as scriptural and right; understanding an evangelist to be, what they said an itinerant was, "One that hath no particular charge of his own, but goes about from country to country, or from town to town in any country, and stands ready to preach to any congregation that shall call him to it." For the divine command, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature," he argued, "authorizes the ministers of Christ, even to the end of the world, to preach the gospel in every town and country, though not 'of their own head,' yet whenever and wherever Providence should open a door, even though it should be in a place 'where officers are already settled, and the gospel is fully and faithfully preached.' This, I humbly apprehend, is every gospel minister's indisputable privilege." He further asked, "Was not the Reformation begun and carried on by itinerant preaching?" He then quoted from "Baxter's Reformed Pastor," a plan which had been adopted in some parts of England, for circular lectures by settled ministers selected for the purpose, and with the consent of the pastors.

In reference to Harvard college, Whitefield lived long enough to take a Christian's revenge. In 1764, he solicited from his friends donations of books for their library, which had recently been destroyed by fire, and four years afterwards, while his old opponent President Holyoke was yet in office, the following minute was entered on their records: "At a meeting of the President and Fellows of Harvard college, August 22, 1768, the Rev. G. Whitefield having, in addition to his former kindness to Harvard college, lately presented to the library a new edition of his Journals, and having procured large benefactions from several benevolent and respectable gentlemen; voted, that the thanks of the corporation be given to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, for these instances of candor and generosity."

It will be readily supposed, that notwithstanding all the opposition which Whitefield met, there were yet many thousands always ready to attend on his ministry. It was now the close of 1744, but the cold of winter did not prevent vast crowds assembling at early services long before daylight. Speaking of the opposition he met, "so that," says he, "for a while my situation was rendered uncomfortable," he adds, "But amidst all this smoke a blessed fire broke out. The awakened souls were as eager as ever to hear the word. Having heard that I expounded early in Scotland, they begged that I would do the same in Boston. I complied, and opened a lecture at six in the morning. I seldom preached to less than two thousand. It was delightful to see so many of both sexes neatly dressed flocking to hear the word, and returning home to family prayer and breakfast before the opposers were out of their beds."

The late Rev. Dr. Archibald Alexander tells us, that when he was at Boston, in 1800, he found in the Old South church a lingering relic of Whitefield's times, in a convert of his day, a lady between eighty and ninety years of age, who belonged to a prayer-meeting founded then, which had been kept up weekly until within a few years. Of this, she was the only surviving member.

The "Evening Post," which seems to have been on the side of those who opposed Whitefield, in its issue of March 11, 1745, says, "Prince, Webb, Foxcroft, and Gee, are the directors of Mr. Whitefield's public conduct, as he himself has lately declared at Newbury." He had other powerful friends among the clergy, and still more among the laity, who invited him by vote into some pulpits where the pastors were "shy" of him.

On the 7th of February, we find him at Ipswich, where he spent several days. Mr. Pickering, of the Second church, declined admitting him into his pulpit, and assigned his reasons in a letter, which was published. It contains the usual objections set forth in the various "testimonies," and is remarkable only for one convenient metaphor. The Bishop of London had published on "Lukewarmness and Enthusiasm." Whitefield had said in reply, "All ought to be thankful to that pilot who will teach them to steer a safe and middle course;" and Pickering wittily asks, "But what if the pilot should take the vane for the compass?"

Early in March we find him making an excursion into the east, as we hear of him both at Berwick and Portland, in the then territory of Maine. In the latter place, he not only made a powerful impression on the people, but on their minister. In the outset a strong feeling existed against his preaching in the pulpit of the First church. Mr. Smith, the pastor, says in his "Journal," "The parish are like to be in a flame on account of Mr. Whitefield's coming; the leading men violently opposing." Under the date of May 19, after Whitefield's departure, we find in the "Journal" a remarkable passage: "For several Sabbaths, and the lecture, I have been all in a blaze; never in such a flame, and what I would attend to is, that it was not only involuntary, but actually determined against. I went to meeting resolving to be calm and moderate, lest people should think it was wildness and affectation to ape Mr. Whitefield; but God, I see, makes use of me as he pleases, and I am only a machine in his hand."

About the middle of March, we find our evangelist at Exeter, where he afterwards preached his last sermon. Here some of the more zealous members of the church had withdrawn, and formed a new church. Their conduct had been sanctioned by one council, and censured by another, two years before this time. Whitefield preached to them twice, though Mr. Odlin, the pastor of the church from which they had withdrawn, "solemnly warned and charged him against preaching in his parish." So says the "Evening Post," of March 25, which further calls the people to whom he preached, "Separatists."

In this spring of 1745, the first expedition for the capture from the French of the island of Cape Breton, near Nova Scotia, was set on foot. Colonel Pepperell, a warm personal friend of Whitefield, and the only native of New England who was created a Baronet of Great Britain, was then at Boston, constantly attending Whitefield's lectures. On the day before he accepted a commission to be general in that expedition, he asked his opinion of the matter, and was told, with the preacher's usual frankness, that he did not indeed think that the scheme proposed for taking Louisburgh would be very promising; and that the eyes of all would be upon him. If he did not succeed, the widows and orphans of the slain soldiers would be like lions robbed of their whelps; but if it pleased God to give him success, envy would endeavor to eclipse his glory: he had need, therefore, if he went, to go with a single eye; and then there was no doubt, if Providence really called him, he would find his strength equal to the difficulties with which he would have to contend.

About the same time, Mr. Sherburne, another of Whitefield's friends, being appointed one of the commissioners, told him he must favor the expedition, otherwise the pious people would be discouraged from enlisting; not only did he say this, but he insisted that the evangelist should give him a motto for his flag, for the encouragement of his soldiers. Whitefield refused to do this, as it would not be consistent with his character as a minister of the gospel of peace. But as Sherburne would take no denial, he gave him, Nil desperandum, Christo Duce– [Nothing to be despaired of, Christ being leader.] In these circumstances a large number of men enlisted.

The soldiers and their officers now went farther, and before their embarkation requested him to give them a sermon. He preached to them from the text, "And every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented, gathered themselves unto him; and he became a captain over them." 1 Samuel 22:2. From this somewhat singular text, he discoursed on the manner in which distressed sinners came to Jesus Christ, the Son of David; and in his application, exhorted the soldiers to behave like the soldiers of David, and the officers to act like David's worthies; saying, that if they did so, there would be good news from Cape Breton. After this he preached to the general himself, who invited him to become one of his chaplains. Whitefield declined this, saying, that though he should esteem this an honor, yet, as he generally preached three times a day, to large congregations, he could do more service by stirring up the people to pray, thus strengthening the hearts and hands of the army. In this practice he persevered during the whole siege of Louisburgh. "I believe," said he, "if ever people went with a disinterested view, the New Englanders did then. Though many of them were raw and undisciplined, yet numbers were substantial persons, who left their farms and willingly ventured all for their country's good. An amazing series of providences appeared, and though some discouraging accounts were sent during the latter end of the siege, yet in about six weeks news came of the surrender of Louisburgh. Numbers flocked from all quarters to hear a thanksgiving sermon upon the occasion. And I trust the blessing bestowed upon the country through the thanksgivings of many, redounded to the glory of God."

Some time before this, the people of Boston had proposed to build for Whitefield "the largest place of worship ever seen in America," in which he should regularly preach; but, as usual, he feared this plan would abridge his liberty of itinerating: he thanked them for their offer, but decidedly declined to accept it. As his bodily strength increased, he began to move southward, and went through Rhode Island and Connecticut, preaching to thousands generally twice a day. He says, "Though there was much smoke, yet every day I had more and more convincing proof that a blessed gospel fire had been kindled in the hearts both of ministers and people."

About this time occurred a fact which delightfully shows how the enemies of this admirable man were often converted into friends. A colored trumpeter belonging to the English army resolved to interrupt him while delivering a sermon in the open air. For this purpose he went to the field, carrying his trumpet with him, intending to blow it with all his might about the middle of the sermon. He took his station in front of the minister, and at no great distance from him. The crowd became very great, and those who were towards the extremity pressed forward, that they might hear more distinctly, and caused such a pressure where the poor trumpeter stood, that he found it impossible at the time when he intended to blow his trumpet, to raise the arm which held it, by which means he was kept within the sound of the gospel as effectually as if he had been chained to the spot. In a short time his attention was powerfully arrested, and he became so deeply affected by the statements of the preacher, that he was seized with all the agonies of despair, and was carried to a house in the neighborhood. After the service, he was visited by Mr. Whitefield, who gave him suitable counsels, and from that time the trumpeter became a greatly altered man. So true is it in reference to the omnipotent and gracious Being,

"Hearts base as hell he can control,

And spread new powers throughout the whole."

While preaching at Boston, he was delighted to observe that the sheriff, who had heretofore been the leader of the persecution against him, now began to hear him preach; and his pleasure was vastly increased, when he saw the crowds come around him to inquire as to their highest interests.

Among these crowds was a somewhat remarkable gentleman of that city. He was a man of ready wit and racy humor, who delighted in preaching over a bottle to his ungodly companions. He went to hear Whitefield, that he might be furnished with matter for a "tavern harangue." When he had heard enough of the sermon for his purpose, he endeavored to quit the church for the inn, but "found his endeavors to get out fruitless, he was so pent up." While thus fixed, and waiting for "fresh matter of ridicule," the truth took possession of his heart. That night he went to Mr. Prince full of terror, and sought an introduction to ask pardon of the preacher. Whitefield says of him, "By the paleness, pensiveness, and horror of his countenance, I guessed he was the man of whom I had been apprized. 'Sir, can you forgive me?' he cried in a low, but plaintive voice. I smiled, and said, 'Yes, sir, very readily.' 'Indeed,' he said, 'you cannot when I tell you all.' I then asked him to sit down; and judging that he had sufficiently felt the lash of the law, I preached the gospel to him." This, with other remarkable conversions, gave increasing energy and influence to his preaching in Boston. "My bodily strength," he says, "is recovered, and my soul more than ever in love with a crucified Jesus."

Another illustration may also be here given of the meekness and gentleness which usually characterized our evangelist in his intercourse with his brethren. In his later visits to New England, it was Whitefield's usual practice to spend a few days with Dr. Hopkins. On one of these occasions, after preaching for the doctor on the Sabbath, the next day he proposed a ride into the country for exercise. During the ride, Whitefield spoke with regret of the views of their "good brother Edwards on the subject of the witness of the Holy Spirit." "Ah," asked Dr. Hopkins, "and what is the error?" Here Whitefield made a long pause; and Hopkins continued the conversation: "Do you believe, Mr. Whitefield, that the witness of the Spirit is a direct communication from God?" "I cannot say that I do," was the reply. "Well, do you believe that Christians have any other witness of the Spirit than that afforded by the testimony of their own holy affections?" "I cannot say that I do," Mr. Whitefield again replied. "Do you believe it to be any thing more or less," continued Hopkins, "than the Spirit producing in the heart the gracious exercises of repentance, faith, etc.?" "No, that is precisely my view of it," said Whitefield. "And that is precisely the view of good father Edwards," pleasantly returned Dr. Hopkins. Whitefield frankly acknowledged his error, and rejoiced that there was no disagreement on the subject.

CHAPTER X.
FROM HIS LEAVING NEW ENGLAND TILL HIS ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND – LABORS IN THE MIDDLE AND SOUTHERN STATES – THE BERMUDAS.
1745-1748

Leaving New England, Whitefield proceeded first to New York, where he preached as he had formerly done, and found that the seed sown in past days had produced much fruit. Proceeding still southward, on his way towards Philadelphia, arriving in New Jersey, he says, "I had the pleasure of preaching by an interpreter to some converted Indians, and of seeing nearly fifty young ones in one school, near Freehold, learning the Assembly's Catechism." A blessed awakening had before this time been begun and carried on among the Delaware Indians, by the ministry of David Brainerd; no such work had been heard of since the days of the apostolic Eliot in New England.

Arriving in Philadelphia, Whitefield was rejoiced to find that his friend Gilbert Tennent was still blessed with success in his labors. Many, he says, were under "soul-sickness," and Tennent's health suffered much with walking from place to place to see them. The gentlemen connected with the new house in which Tennent preached, were, as well as Tennent himself, desirous of securing at least a portion of Whitefield's labors, and offered him eight hundred pounds a year, if he would become their pastor, and labor with them six months in the year, travelling the other six months wherever he thought proper. He thanked them, but declined.

Not unfrequently have we been told by frigid critics of the inferior character of Whitefield's printed sermons. But have they not looked too much for the beauties of style, and overlooked the simple energy of their scriptural truths? Even these printed sermons have, under God, accomplished wonders. In the year 1743, a young gentleman from Scotland, then residing at Hanover, in Virginia, had obtained a volume of Whitefield's sermons preached in Glasgow, and taken in shorthand, which, after a gentleman of Hanover, named Hunt, the father of a distinguished Presbyterian minister of that name, had studied with great personal benefit, he invited his neighbors to visit his house to hear read. By their plainness and fervor, attended with the power of God, not a few became convinced of their lost condition as sinners, and anxiously inquired the way of salvation. The feelings of many were powerfully excited, and they could not forbear bitter and violent weeping. The intelligence spread, curiosity prompted the desire of many others to attend such remarkable services; and one and another begged for admission, till the houses were crowded. Numbers were pricked to the heart; the word of God became quick and powerful; and, "What shall we do?" was the general cry. What to do or say the principal leaders knew not. They themselves had been led by a still small voice, they hardly knew how, to an acquaintance with the truth; but now the Lord was speaking as on mount Sinai, with a voice of thunder; and sinners, like that mountain itself, trembled. It was not long before Christians had the happiness to see a goodly number healed by the same word that had wounded them, and brought to rejoice in Christ, and his great salvation. "My dwelling-place," said Mr. Morris, one of their number, "was at length too small to contain the people, whereupon we determined to build a meeting-house merely for reading. And having never been used to social prayer, none of us durst attempt it." This reading-house, as it was called, was followed by others of like character, and the number of attendants and the power of divine influence were much increased. Mr. Morris, as the report spread, was invited to several places at a distance to read these sermons. The phrase, "Morris' reading-house," has come down by tradition to the present age, as well as important details of the opposition of the magistracy and other classes, who sought, but in vain, to stop the progress of the work.

Such was the origin of the Presbyterian church at Hanover, where, in after-days, William Robinson and President Davies accomplished such mighty triumphs, and where the sacred cause still flourishes.

Whitefield does not seem to have been made acquainted with these facts till he now arrived in the colony, and saw the happy effects which had been produced by the labors of the Rev. Messrs. Robinson, Tennent, Blair, and others. Of the visit of Whitefield among them, one of them writes, "Mr. Whitefield came and preached four or five days in these parts, which was the happy means of giving us further encouragement, and engaging others to the Lord, especially among the church people, who received his doctrine more readily than they would from ministers of the Presbyterian denomination." We may add here, that in 1747 there were four houses of worship in and around Hanover, which had sprung from the "mustard-seed" of the sermons taken in shorthand from Whitefield's lips at Glasgow.

Among the converts in the south who met Whitefield, was Isaac Oliver, who was both deaf and dumb, and had been so from his birth. Notwithstanding these great disadvantages, he could both feel and evince his strong feelings by the most significant and expressive signs. He could, for instance, so represent the crucifixion of the Lord Jesus Christ, as to be understood by every one; and among his own friends he could converse about the love of Christ in the language of signs, till he was transported in rapture and dissolved in tears. He was much beloved for his eminent piety.

Whitefield had not, during any portion of this time, forgotten Bethesda. The public had warmly sustained it, and he now went forward to see to its affairs, and to add to the orphan-house a Latin school, intending, indeed, before a long time to found a college.

The following account of the orphan-house in 1746, was written by Mr. Whitefield in the form of a letter to a friend, and published as a small pamphlet. We transcribe it from "White's Historical Collections of Georgia," published in 1854:

"Provide things honest in the sight of all men." – Rom. 12:17

"Bethesda, in Georgia, March 21, 1745-6.

"Some have thought that the erecting such a building was only the produce of my own brain; but they are much mistaken; for it was first proposed to me by my dear friend the Rev. Mr. Charles Wesley, who, with his excellency General Oglethorpe, had concerted a scheme for carrying on such a design before I had any thoughts of going abroad myself. It was natural to think that, as the government intended this province for the refuge and support of many of our poor countrymen, numbers of such adventurers must necessarily be taken off, by being exposed to the hardships which unavoidably attend a new settlement. I thought it, therefore, a noble design in the general to erect a house for fatherless children; and believing that such a provision for orphans would be some inducement with many to come over, I fell in with the design, when mentioned to me by my friend, and was resolved, in the strength of God, to prosecute it with all my might. This was mentioned to the honorable trustees. They took it kindly at my hands, and wrote to the bishop of Bath and Wells for leave for me to preach a charity sermon on this occasion in the Abbey church. This was granted, and I accordingly began immediately to compose a suitable discourse. But knowing that my first stay in Georgia would necessarily be short, on account of my returning again to take priest's orders, I thought it most prudent first to go and see for myself, and defer prosecuting the scheme till I came home… When I came to Georgia, I found many poor orphans, who, though taken notice of by the honorable trustees, yet, through the neglect of persons under them, were in miserable circumstances. For want of a house to bring them up in, the poor little ones were tabled out here and there; others were at hard services, and likely to have no education at all.

"Upon seeing this, and finding that his Majesty and Parliament had the interest of the colony much at heart, I thought I could not better show my regard to God and my country than by getting a house and land for these children, where they might learn to labor, read, and write, and at the same time be brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Accordingly, at my return to England, in the year 1738, to take priest's orders, I applied to the honorable society for a grant of five hundred acres of land, and laid myself under an obligation to build a house upon it, and to receive from time to time as many orphans as the land and stock would maintain. As I had always acted like a clergyman of the church of England, having preached in a good part of the London churches, and but a few months before collected near a thousand pounds sterling for the children belonging to the charity schools in London and Westminster, it was natural to think that I might now have the use at least of some of these churches to preach in for the orphans hereafter more immediately to be committed to my care. But by the time I had taken priest's orders, the spirit of the clergy began to be much imbittered. Churches were gradually denied me, and I must let this good design drop, and thousands, and I might add ten thousands, go without hearing the word of God, or preach in the fields. Indeed, two churches, one in London, namely, Spitalfields, and one in Bristol, namely, St. Philip's and Jacob, were lent me on this occasion, but those were all. I collected for the orphan-house in Moorfields two hundred and fifty pounds one Sabbath-day morning, twenty-two pounds of which were in copper. In the afternoon I collected again at Kennington Common, and continued to do so at most of the places where I preached. Besides this, two or three of the bishops, and several persons of distinction contributed, until at length, having gotten about a thousand and ten pounds, I gave over collecting, and went with what I had to Georgia. At that time multitudes offered to accompany me; but I chose to take over only a surgeon and a few more of both sexes, that I thought would be useful in carrying on my design. My dear fellow-traveller William Seward, Esq., also joined with them. Our first voyage was to Philadelphia, where I was willing to go for the sake of laying in provision. I laid out in London a good part of the thousand pounds for goods, and got as much by them in Philadelphia as nearly defrayed the families' expenses of coming over. Here God blessed my ministry daily…

"January following, 1739, I met my family at Georgia, and being unwilling to lose any time, I hired a large house, and took in all the orphans I could find in the colony. A great many also of the town's children came to school gratis, and many poor people that could not maintain their children, upon application, had leave given them to send their little ones for a month or two, or more as they could spare them, till at length my family consisted of between sixty and seventy. Most of the orphans were in poor case, and three or four almost eaten up with lice. I likewise erected an infirmary, in which many sick people were cured and taken care of gratis. I have now by me a list of upwards of a hundred and thirty patients, which were under the surgeon's hands, exclusive of my own private family. About March I began the great house, having only about one hundred and fifty pounds in cash. I called it Bethesda, because I hoped it would be a house of mercy to many souls. Many boys have been put out to trades, and many girls put out to service. I had the pleasure, the other day, to see three boys work at the house in which they were bred, one of them out of his time, a journeyman, and the others serving under their masters. One that I brought from New England is handsomely settled in Carolina; and another from Philadelphia is married, and lives very comfortably in Savannah. We have lately begun to use the plough, and next year I hope to have many acres of good oats and barley. We have nearly twenty sheep and lambs, fifty head of cattle, and seven horses. We hope to kill a thousand weight of pork this season. Our garden is very beautiful, furnishes us with all sorts of greens, etc., etc. We have plenty of milk, eggs, poultry, and make a good deal of butter weekly. A good quantity of wool and cotton have been given me, and we hope to have sufficient spun and wove for the next winter's clothing. The family now consists of twenty-six persons. Two of the orphan boys are blind, one is little better than an idiot. I have two women to take care of the household work, and two men and three boys employed about the plantation and cattle. A set of Dutch servants has been lately sent over. The magistrates were pleased to give me two; and I took in a poor widow, aged near seventy, whom nobody else cared to have. A valuable young man from New England is my schoolmaster, and in my absence performs duty in the family. On Sabbaths, the grown people attend on public worship at Savannah, or at White Bluff, a village near Bethesda, where a Dutch minister officiates. The house is a noble, commodious building, and every thing sweetly adapted for bringing up youth. Georgia is very healthy; not above one, and that a little child, has died out of our family since it removed to Bethesda."

A tabular statement follows this account, giving full particulars of the eighty-six children who to that period had been admitted into the establishment.

Old newspapers, as daguerreotyping the facts, and even the feelings of any particular period, are sometimes invaluable. In New York, as everywhere else, Whitefield had his enemies, and many charges were brought against him. But that there were those who took a strongly favorable view of his character and conduct, is very clear from an extract we give from "The New York Post-Boy," of April, 1746: "Mr. Whitefield's excellent parts, fine elocution, and masterly address; his admirable talent of opening the Scriptures, and enforcing the most weighty subjects upon the conscience; his polite and serious behavior, his unaffected and superior piety, his prudence, humility, and catholic spirit, are things which must silence and disarm prejudice itself. By these qualifications of the orator, the divine, and the Christian, he has not only fixed himself deeper in the affections of his former friends, but greatly increased the number wherever he has preached; and made his way into the hearts of several who, till this visit, had said all the severe things against him that enmity itself seemed capable of."

From this period, this paper especially noticed the various movements of this apostolic man; his arrivals in the city, his engagements in it, his departures from it, and the places of his destination, were all given with the minutiæ with which even the movements of monarchs are recorded.

It was not without its use that the organs of the public thus expressed their high sense of his character. In 1745, suspicions were whispered abroad as to the entire integrity of this excellent man in the appropriation of the funds collected for Bethesda. But happily for all parties, the magistrates of Savannah published in the Philadelphia Gazette an affidavit, that they had carefully examined Mr. Whitefield's receipts and disbursements, and found that what he had collected in behalf of the orphans, had been honestly applied, and that besides, he had given considerably to them of his own property.

Having done what he could at Bethesda, feeling his health failing him, needing resources for his orphans, and urged on by his love of preaching, Whitefield was soon again in the field, far away from his home. In the autumn of 1746, we find many passages in his journals and letters like these, while in Maryland: "I trust the time for favoring this and the neighboring southern provinces is come. Everywhere, almost, the door is opened for preaching, great numbers flock to hear, and the power of an ascended Saviour attends the word. For it is surprising how the Lord causes prejudices to subside, and makes my former most bitter enemies to be at peace with me… Lately I have been in seven counties in Maryland, and preached with abundant success." At Charleston, South Carolina, he writes, January 1747, "The Lord Jesus is pleased to give me great access to multitudes of souls." A few weeks later, he writes from the same place, that Bethesda was never in a better condition; that he had opened a Latin school there during the winter, and that he hoped yet to see ministers furnished from Georgia.

In April, we again find him in Maryland, as he writes on the twenty-fifth of that month from Bohemia, in that province, and speaks of the success of Mr. Samuel, afterwards President Davies, in Virginia, but adds that a proclamation had been issued in that state against itinerants, so that he himself was shut out of it. In the middle of May he exults, "Maryland is yielding converts to the blessed Jesus. The gospel seems to be moving southward. The harvest is promising. The time of the singing birds is come;" and five days afterwards he says, "I have been now a three hundred miles' circuit in Maryland, and through one or two counties in Pennsylvania. Everywhere the people have a hearing ear, and I trust some have an obedient heart."

On the first of June we find him in Philadelphia, from whence he writes, "At present I have full work here. The congregations yesterday were large, and for this month past I have been preaching to thousands in different places." During the whole of this month his health was in a very critical state. Here we have a few sentences from his pen, as given on different days: "I am sick and well, as I used to be in England; but the Redeemer fills me with comfort. I am determined, in his strength, to die fighting… I have almost a continual burning fever. With great regret I have omitted preaching one night to oblige my friends, and purpose to do so once more, that they may not charge me with murdering myself. But I hope yet to die in the pulpit, or soon after I come out of it… Since my last, I have been several times on the verge of eternity. At present I am so weak that I cannot preach. It is hard work to be silent, but I must be tried every way."

Sickness did not interrupt Whitefield's labors, if he could move or preach at all. "I am determined," he says to Gilbert Tennent, "to die fighting, though it be on my stumps." He was soon after at New York, Newport, Portsmouth, and Boston. At New York he writes, "I am as willing to hunt for souls as ever. I am not weary of my work." On the next day he writes, "I have preached to a very large auditory, and do not find myself much worse for it." He did so again with success. He then says, "I shall go to Boston like an arrow out of a bow, if Jesus strengthen me. I am resolved to preach and work for Him until I can preach and work no more. I have been upon the water three or four days, and now eat like a sailor." He went on to Boston, where he heard of the sudden but joyful death of his venerable and excellent friend Dr. Colman. He adds, "My reception at Boston and elsewhere was like unto the first. Arrows of conviction fled and stuck fast. Congregations were larger than ever, and opposers' mouths were stopped."

After again making short visits to Philadelphia and Bohemia, Whitefield, according to previous arrangements, went to spend the winter in North Carolina. Before he left Bohemia, however, he wrote to his friends at New York, who were intensely anxious about his health, but he could only say it was yet fluctuating. Even so was it when he arrived in North Carolina, yet he writes, "I am here, hunting in the woods, these ungospelized wilds, for sinners. It is pleasant work, though my body is weak and crazy. But after a short fermentation in the grave, it will be fashioned like unto Christ's glorious body. The thought of this rejoices my soul, and makes me long to leap my seventy years. I sometimes think all will go to heaven before me. Pray for me as a dying man; but Oh, pray that I may not go off as a snuff. I would fain die blazing– not with human glory, but with the love of Jesus."

Such was his weakness, that his journey to Bathtown, in North Carolina, was long and slow. Even a short ride was fatiguing and painful. Still, he preached with considerable power; cheered on from stage to stage by the hope that the conversion of "North Carolina sinners would be glad news in heaven." His letters indicated lively hopes of an extensive revival, but his expectations were not fully realized. His health was still exceedingly feeble, and his physicians ordered him to try a change of climate. He accordingly embarked for the Bermudas, where he landed, March 15, 1748.

The Bermudas are a group of four small islands lying about nine hundred miles east of Georgia. The largest of the islands is called St. George's, with a capital of the same name; the climate is remarkably fine, and well adapted for the temporary residence and recovery of invalids. Here Whitefield met with an exceedingly kind reception, and remained on the island with great benefit to his health, more than a month. We scarcely need to say that he was not idle during his residence here, but traversed the island from one end to the other, generally preaching twice a day. A few passages from his journal will best show the facts.

"The simplicity and plainness of the people, together with the pleasant situation of the island, much delighted me. The Rev. Mr. Holiday, minister of Spanish Point, received me in a most affectionate, Christian manner; and begged I would make his house my home. In the evening, I expounded at the house of Mr. Savage, at Port Royal, which was very commodious; and which also he would have me make my home. I went with Mr. Savage in a boat to the town of St. George, in order to pay our respects to the governor. All along we had a most pleasant prospect of the other part of the island; a more pleasant one I never saw. Mrs. Smith, of St. George, for whom I had a letter of recommendation from my dear old friend Mr. Smith, of Charlestown, received me into her house. About noon, with one of the council and Mr. Savage, I waited upon the governor. He received us courteously, and invited us to dine with him and the council. We accepted the invitation, and all behaved with great civility and respect. After the governor rose from the table, he desired, if I stayed in town on the Sunday, that I would dine with him at his own house.

"Sunday, March 20. Read prayers and preached twice this day, to what were esteemed here large auditories – in the morning at Spanish Point church, and in the evening at Brackish Pond church, about two miles distant from each other. In the afternoon I spoke with greater freedom than in the morning, and I trust not altogether in vain. All were attentive, some wept. I dined with Colonel Butterfield, one of the council; and received several invitations to other gentlemen's houses. May God bless and reward them, and incline them to open their hearts to receive the Lord Jesus.

"Wednesday, March 23. Dined with Captain Gibbs, and went from thence and expounded at the house of Captain F – le, at Hunbay, about two miles distant. The company here also was large, attentive, and affected. Our Lord gave me utterance. I expounded the first part of the eighth chapter of Jeremiah. After lecture, Mr. Riddle, a counsellor, invited me to his house; as did Mr. Paul, an aged Presbyterian minister, to his pulpit; which I complied with upon condition that the rumor was true, that the governor had served the ministers with an injunction that I should not preach in the churches.

"Sunday, March 27. Glory be to God! I hope this has been a profitable Sabbath to many souls; it has been a pleasant one to mine. Both morning and afternoon I preached to a large auditory, for the Bermudas, in Mr. Paul's meeting-house, which I suppose contains about four hundred. Abundance of negroes, and many others, were in the porch, and about the house. The word seemed to be clothed with a convincing power, and to make its way into the hearts of the hearers. Between sermons, I was entertained very civilly in a neighboring house. Judge Bascom, and three more of the council, came thither, and each gave me an invitation to his house. How does the Lord make way for a poor stranger in a strange land. After the second sermon I dined with Mr. Paul; and in the evening expounded to a very large company at Councillor Riddle's. My body was somewhat weak; but the Lord carried me through, and caused me to go to rest rejoicing. May I thus go to my grave, when my ceaseless and uninterrupted rest shall begin.

"Thursday, March 31. Dined on Tuesday at Colonel Corbusier's, and on Wednesday at Colonel Gilbert's, both of the council; and found, by what I could hear, that some good had been done, and many prejudices removed. Who shall hinder, if God will work? Went to an island this afternoon called Ireland, upon which live a few families; and to my surprise, found a great many gentlemen, and other people, with my friend Mr. Holiday, who came from different quarters to hear me. Before I began preaching, I went round to see a most remarkable cave, which very much displayed the exquisite workmanship of Him, who in 'his strength setteth fast the mountains, and is girded about with power.' While I was in the cave, quite unexpectedly I turned and saw Councillor Riddle, who, with his son, came to hear me; and while we were in the boat, told me that he had been with the governor, who declared he had no personal prejudice against me, and wondered I did not come to town and preach there, for it was the desire of the people; and that any house in the town, the court-house not excepted, should be at my service. Thanks be to God for so much favor. If his cause requires it, I shall have more. He knows my heart; I value the favor of man no farther than as it makes room for the gospel, and gives me a larger scope to promote the glory of God. There being no capacious house upon the island, I preached for the first time here in the open air. All heard very attentively; and it was very pleasant, after sermon, to see so many boats full of people returning from the worship of God. I talked seriously to some in our own boat, and sung a psalm, in which they readily joined.

"Sunday, April 3. Preached twice this day at Mr. Paul's meeting-house, as on the last Sabbath, but with greater freedom and power, especially in the morning; and I think to as great, if not greater auditories. Dined with Colonel Harvy, another of the council; visited a sick woman, where many came to hear; and expounded afterwards to a great company, at Captain John Dorrel's, Mrs. Dorrel's son, who with his wife courteously entertained me, and desired me to make his house my home. So true is that promise of our Lord, that 'whosoever leaves father or mother, houses or lands, shall have in this life a hundred-fold with persecution, and in the world to come, life everlasting.' Lord, I have experienced the one; in thy good time grant that I may experience the other also.

"Wednesday, April 6. Preached yesterday at the house of Mr. Anthony Smith, of Baylis Bay, with a considerable degree of warmth; and rode afterwards to St. George, the only town on the island. The gentlemen of the town had sent me an invitation by Judge Bascom; and he, with several others, came to visit me at my lodgings; and informed me that the governor desired to see me. About ten I waited upon his excellency, who received me with great civility, and told me he had no objection against my person or my principles, having never yet heard me; and he knew nothing with respect to my conduct in moral life, that might prejudice him against me; but his intentions were to let none preach in the island, unless he had a written license to preach somewhere in America, or the West Indies; at the same time he acknowledged that it was but a matter of mere form. I informed his excellency that I had been regularly inducted into the parish of Savannah; that I was ordained priest by letters dismissory from my lord of London, and was under no church censure from his lordship; and would always read the church prayers, if the clergy would give me the use of their churches. I added farther, that a minister's pulpit was always looked upon as his freehold; and that I knew one clergyman who had denied his own diocesan the use of his pulpit. But I told his excellency I was satisfied with the liberty he allowed me, and would not act contrary to his injunction. I then begged leave to be dismissed, as I was obliged to preach at eleven o'clock. His excellency said he intended to do himself the pleasure to hear me. At eleven, the church bell rung. The church Bible, prayer-book, and cushion, were sent to the town-house. The governor, several of the council, the minister of the parish, and assembly-men, with a great number of the town's people, assembled in great order. I was very sick, through a cold I caught last night; but read the church prayers. The first lesson was the fifteenth chapter of the first book of Samuel. I preached on those words, 'Righteousness exalteth a nation.' Being weak and faint, and afflicted much with the headache, I did not do that justice to my subject which I sometimes am enabled to do; but the Lord so helped me that, as I found afterwards, the governor and the other gentlemen expressed their approbation, and acknowledged they did not expect to be so well entertained. Not unto me, Lord, not unto me, but to thy free grace be all the glory!

"After sermon, Dr. F – bs, and Mr. P – t, the collector, came to me, and desired me to favor them and the gentlemen of the town with my company at dinner. I accepted the invitation. The governor, and the president, and Judge Bascom were there. All wondered at my speaking so freely and fluently without notes. The governor asked whether I used minutes. I answered, 'No.' He said it was a great gift. At table, his excellency introduced something of religion by asking me the meaning of the word Hades. Several other things were started about freewill, Adam's fall, predestination, etc., to all which God enabled me to answer so pertinently, and taught me to mix the utile and dulce [useful and pleasant] so together, that all at table seemed highly pleased, shook me by the hand, and invited me to their respective houses. The governor, in particular, asked me to dine with him on the morrow; and Dr. F – , one of his particular intimates, invited me to drink tea in the afternoon. I thanked all, returned proper respects, and went to my lodgings with some degree of thankfulness for the assistance vouchsafed me, and abased before God at the consideration of my unspeakable unworthiness. In the afternoon, about five o'clock, I expounded the parable of the prodigal son to many people at a private house; and in the evening had liberty to speak freely and closely to those who supped with me. O that this may be the beginning of good gospel times to the inhabitants of this town."

We might fill other pages from Whitefield's journal, but will only give two more passages. The first will show him in connection with the African race, in whose highest welfare he always took a special interest.

"Saturday, May 7. In my conversation these two days with some of my friends, I was diverted much in hearing several things that passed among the poor negroes, since I preached to them last Sunday. One of the women, it seems, said that 'if the book I preached out of was the best book that was ever bought at London, she was sure it had never all that in it which I spoke to the negroes,' The old man who spoke out loud last Sunday, and said 'yes' when I asked them whether all the negroes would not go to heaven, being questioned by somebody why he spoke out so, answered, that 'the gentleman put the question once or twice to them, and the other fools had not the manners to make any answer; till at last I seemed to point at him, and he was ashamed that nobody should answer me, and therefore he did.' Another, wondering why I said negroes had black hearts, was answered by his black brother, 'Ah, thou fool, dost not thou understand it? He means black with sin.' Two girls were overheard by their mistress talking about religion, and they said 'they knew, if they did not repent, they must be damned.' From all which I infer that these negroes on the Bermudas are more awake than I supposed; that their consciences are awake, and consequently prepared in a good measure for hearing the gospel preached to them."

Whitefield sums up the events which had occurred in connection with himself on the Bermudas, the praise of which islands has also been celebrated by the distinguished Bishop Berkeley, who resided there for some time, and by Waller the poet.

"Sunday, May 22. Blessed be God, the little leaven thrown into the three measures of meal begins to ferment and work almost every day for the week past. I have conversed with souls loaded with a sense of their sins, and as far as I can judge, really pricked to the heart. I preached only three times, but to almost three times larger auditories than usual. Indeed, the fields are white, ready to harvest. God has been pleased to bless private visits. Go where I will, upon the least notice, houses are crowded, and the poor souls that follow are soon drenched in tears. This day I took, as it were, another farewell. As the ship did not sail, I preached at Somerset in the morning to a large congregation in the fields; and expounded in the evening at Mr. Harvy's house, around which stood many hundreds of people. But in the morning and evening how did the poor souls weep. Abundance of prayers and blessings were put up for my safe passage to England, and speedy return to the Bermudas again. May they enter into the ears of the Lord of sabaoth. With all humility and thankfulness of heart will I here, O Lord, set up my Ebenezer, for hitherto surely hast thou helped me. Thanks be to the Lord for sending me hither. I have been received in a manner I dared not to expect, and have met with little, very little opposition indeed. The inhabitants seem to be plain and open-hearted. They have loaded me with provisions for my sea-store; and in the several parishes, by a private voluntary contribution, have raised me upwards of one hundred pounds sterling. This will pay a little of Bethesda's debt, and enable me to make such a remittance to my dear yoke-fellow, as may keep her from being embarrassed, or too much beholden in my absence. Blessed be God for bringing me out of my embarrassments by degrees. May the Lord reward all my benefactors a thousand-fold. I hear that what was given, was given heartily, and people only lamented that they could do no more."

Whitefield now transmitted to Georgia what had been collected for the orphan-house; but fearing a relapse, if he returned to the south during the hot season, which was near commencing, and pressed also again to visit England, he took his passage in a brig, and in twenty-eight days arrived at Deal.

On his voyage, he completed an abridgment, which he had previously begun, of "Law's serious Call to a devout and holy Life," which he endeavored to make more useful by excluding whatever is not truly evangelical, and illustrating the subject more fully, especially from the holy Scriptures. He also wrote letters to his friends, one of which strikingly illustrates his Christian humility. It bears date June 24, 1748. "Yesterday I made an end of revising all my journals. Alas, alas, in how many things I have judged and acted wrong. I have been too rash and hasty in giving characters both of places and persons. Being fond of Scripture language, I have used a style too apostolical, and at the same time I have been too bitter in my zeal. Wildfire has been mixed with it, and I find that I frequently wrote and spoke in my own spirit, when I thought I was writing and speaking by the assistance of the Spirit of God. I have, likewise, too much made inward impressions my rule of acting, and too soon and too explicitly published what had been better kept in longer, or told after my death. By these things I have hurt the blessed cause I would defend, and also stirred up a needless opposition. This has humbled me much, and made me think of a saying of Mr. Henry, 'Joseph had more honesty than he had policy, or he never would have told his dreams.' At the same time, I cannot but praise God, who fills me with so much of his holy fire, and carried me, a poor weak youth, through such a torrent, both of popularity and contempt, and set so many seals to my unworthy ministrations. I bless him for ripening my judgment a little more, for giving me to see and confess, and I hope in some degree to correct and amend some of my former mistakes."

In the early part of this year, 1748, the "Gentleman's Magazine" had announced Whitefield's death as having taken place in America. One of his first letters on his arrival at Deal in that year, says, "Words cannot express how joyful my friends were to see me once more in the land of the living, for I find the newspapers had buried me ever since April last. But it seems I am not to die, but live. O that it may be to declare the works of the Lord."

CHAPTER XI.
LABORS IN ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND – CHAPLAIN TO LADY HUNTINGDON.
1748, 1749

On the evening of July 6, 1748, Whitefield again found himself in London, after an absence of nearly four years. Here he was welcomed with joy by many thousands. The large church of St. Bartholomew was at once thrown open to him, where multitudes flocked to hear, and where on the first Sabbath he had a thousand communicants. But in his own more immediate circle many things were in an unhappy condition. His congregation at the Tabernacle had been much scattered during his absence; Antinomianism had made sad havoc among the people; and one of this party threatened to rival him in Moorfields. Whitefield sent him word, "The fields are no doubt as free to you as to another. God send you a clear head and a clean heart. I intend preaching there on Sunday evening." He did so; and found "Moorfields as white to harvest as ever." Our evangelist was again called to mourn the evils of poverty. He found himself compelled to sell his household furniture, to pay, in part, the debts of his orphan-house, which were yet far from being cancelled; his aged mother, for whom he always retained the highest regard, also needed his aid. These and other trials pressed him sorely; but on the other hand, he felt happy in his work, and his congregation were soon reunited, and happy in his labors.

We have seen that as early as 1738, Lady Huntingdon, with his lordship her husband, as frequently as they could, heard Whitefield preach; since that period his lordship had died, leaving her ladyship a widow, in the thirty-ninth year of her age. At what period she became more openly and intimately Whitefield's friend does not appear; but when he landed at Deal from his third visit to America, she sent Howel Harris to bring him to her house at Chelsea, where he preached to large circles of the gay world, who thronged this then fashionable watering-place. For the benefit of this class of hearers, she soon after removed to London, at that time some three miles distant from Chelsea, appointed Whitefield her chaplain, and during the winter of 1748 and '49, opened her splendid mansion in Park-street for the preaching of the gospel. "Good Lady Huntingdon," he writes, "has come to town, and I am to preach twice a week at her house to the great and noble. O that some of them might be effectually called to taste the riches of redeeming love." On the first day appointed, Chesterfield and Bolingbroke, both of them well-known for their gayety and infidelity, and a circle of the nobility, attended; and having heard him once, they desired to come again. "Lord Chesterfield thanked me," he says. "Lord Bolingbroke was moved, and asked me to come and see him the next morning. My hands have been full of work, and I have been among great company. All accepted my sermons. Thus the world turns round. 'In all time of my wealth, good Lord, deliver me.'"

The death-bed of Lord St. John Bolingbroke, whom we have already mentioned as one of his parlor-hearers, exhibited scenes unusual in the circle where he moved. The Bible was read to him, and his cry was, "God be merciful to me a sinner." "My Lord Bolingbroke," wrote Lady Huntingdon to Whitefield, "was much struck with his brother's language in his last moments. O that his eyes might be opened by the illuminating influence of divine truth. He is a singularly awful character; and I am fearfully alarmed, lest the gospel which he so heartily despises, yet affects to reverence, should prove the savor of death unto death to him. Some, I trust, are savingly awakened, while many are inquiring; thus the great Lord of the harvest hath put honor on your ministry, and hath given my heart an encouraging token of the utility of our feeble efforts."

It is related that the Rev. Mr. Church, a clergyman who died curate of Battersea, near London, one day called on Bolingbroke, who said to him, "You have caught me reading John Calvin; he was indeed a man of great parts, profound sense, and vast learning; he handles the doctrines of grace in a very masterly manner." "Doctrines of grace," replied the clergyman; "the doctrines of grace have set all mankind by the ears." "I am surprised to hear you say so," answered Lord Bolingbroke, "you who profess to believe and to preach Christianity. Those doctrines are certainly the doctrines of the Bible, and if I believe the Bible I must believe them. And let me seriously tell you, that the greatest miracle in the world is the subsistence of Christianity, and its continued preservation, as a religion, when the preaching of it is committed to the care of such unchristian men as you."

At this period Whitefield renewed his acquaintance with the Rev. James Hervey, who has not improperly been called the Melancthon of the second reformation in England. Among all the converts of our evangelist, no one was more distinguished for piety, or for his fascination as a writer, than this admirable clergyman. His writings, though too flowery in their style, were eminently suitable, as Whitefield himself says, "for the taste of the polite world." Hervey wrote to Whitefield, "Your journals and sermons, and especially that sweet sermon on 'What think ye of Christ?' were a means of bringing me to the knowledge of the truth." Whitefield felt the warmest attachment to Hervey in return, and when he introduced some of his works into America, wrote, "The author is my old friend; a most heavenly-minded creature; one of the first Methodists, who is contented with a small cure, and gives all he has to the poor. We correspond with, though we cannot see each other." Whitefield intimated in one of his journals his intention of sketching Hervey's character, but this was one of the many intended things which were never accomplished. Dr. Doddridge wrote a preface to one of his works, which Warburton, as might be expected, called "a weak rhapsody."

Under the auspices of Lady Huntingdon, a prayer-meeting was established for the women who, from the circles of rank and fashion, became the followers of the Lord. Among these were Lady Frances Gardiner, Lady Mary Hamilton, daughter of the Marquis of Lothian, who had attended the ministry of Whitefield in Scotland, Lady Gertrude Hotham and Countess Delitz, sisters of Lady Chesterfield, Lady Chesterfield herself, and Lady Fanny Shirley. "Religion," says Lady Huntingdon, when writing to Doddridge, "was never so much the subject of conversation as now. Some of the great ones hear with me the gospel patiently, and thus much seed is sown by Mr. Whitefield's preaching. O that it may fall on good ground, and bring forth abundantly."

Some one, we believe a bishop, complained to George II. of the popularity and success of Whitefield, and entreated his majesty in some way or other to silence him. The monarch, thinking, no doubt, of the class described by the martyr Latimer, as "unpreaching prelates," replied with jocose severity, "I believe the best way will be to make a bishop of him."

But if Whitefield was honored by some of the great, he received from others unmingled hostility. Horace Walpole, the gay man, and the corrupt courtier, thought it worth while to introduce the Methodist preacher into his "Private Correspondence." The statement he makes of professed facts is altogether incredible, but shows unmistakably the spirit of the writer. "The apostle Whitefield is come to some shame. He went to Lady Huntingdon lately, and asked for forty pounds for some distressed saint or other. She said she had not so much money in the house, but would give it him the first time she had. He was very pressing, but in vain. At last he said, 'There's your watch and trinkets, you don't want such vanities; I will have that.' She would have put him off; but he persisting, she said, 'Well, if you must have it, you must.' About a fortnight afterwards, going to his house, and being carried into his wife's chamber, among the paraphernalia of the latter the countess found her own offering. This has made a terrible schism; she tells the story herself. I had not it from Saint Frances, [Lady Fanny Shirley,] but I hope it is true." Every thing goes to prove the sincerity of his hope, though founded on falsehood.

It has generally happened that the most effective public speakers, whether secular or sacred, have been accused by a fastidious class with vulgarisms. So with Cicero, Burke, and Chatham; so with Patrick Henry and Daniel Webster; and to turn to eminent preachers, so with Luther, Latimer, and Whitefield. The reason was, that intent on the greatest good to the greatest number, they used what Dr. Johnson, after Daniel Burgess, called "market language." Dr. William Bates, an accomplished and courtly non-conformist minister, in the seventeenth century, once complained in the presence of his faithful but unpolished friend Daniel Burgess, that he found very little success in his work as a minister; when his aged brother smartly replied, "Thank your velvet mouth for that – too fine to speak market language." Whitefield, very happily for thousands, had no squeamishness of this sort.

Some ladies called one Saturday morning to pay a visit to Lady Huntingdon, and during the interview, her ladyship inquired of them if they had ever heard Mr. Whitefield preach. On being answered in the negative, she said, "I wish you would hear him; he is to preach to-morrow evening." They promised her ladyship they would certainly attend. They fulfilled their promise; and when they called on her ladyship the next Monday morning, she anxiously inquired if they had heard Mr. Whitefield on the previous evening, and how they liked him. The reply was, "Oh, my lady, of all the preachers we ever heard, he is the most strange and unaccountable! Among other preposterous things, would your ladyship believe it, he declared that Jesus Christ was so willing to receive sinners, that he did not object to receive even the devil's castaways! Now, my lady, did you ever hear of such a thing since you were born?" Her ladyship, in reply, said, "There is something, I acknowledge, a little singular in the invitation, and I do not recollect to have met with it before; but as Mr. Whitefield is below in the parlor, we will have him up, and let him answer for himself."

On Mr. Whitefield's entering the drawing-room, Lady Huntingdon said, "Sir, these ladies have been preferring a very heavy charge against you, and I thought it best that you should come up and defend yourself. They say, that in your sermon last evening, in speaking of the willingness of Jesus Christ to receive sinners, you said, that 'so ready was Christ to receive sinners who came to him, that he was willing to receive even the devil's castaways.'" Mr. Whitefield immediately replied, "I certainly, my lady, must plead guilty to the charge; whether I did what was right, or otherwise, your ladyship shall judge when you have heard a fact. Did your ladyship notice, about half an hour ago, a very modest single rap at the door? It was given by a poor, miserable looking aged female, who requested to speak with me. I desired that she might be shown into the parlor, when she thus addressed me: 'I believe, sir, you preached last evening at such a chapel.' 'Yes, I did.' 'Ah, sir, I was accidentally passing the door of that chapel, and hearing the voice of some one preaching, I did what I have never been in the habit of doing – I went in; and one of the first things I heard you say, was, that Jesus Christ was so willing to receive sinners, that he did not object to receive the devil's castaways. Do you think, sir, that Jesus Christ would receive me?' I answered her that there was not a doubt of it, if she was but willing to go to him."

It is pleasant to add, that the impression conveyed in the singular language of Mr. Whitefield ended in the conversion of the poor woman to God. She gave satisfactory evidence that her great and numerous sins had been forgiven through the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. Was Mr. Whitefield to be censured for the use of this language?

In September, 1748, Mr. Whitefield made his third visit to Scotland, where he met with a cordial welcome, and where his labors became increasingly valued. Some of the clergy at Glasgow, Perth, and Edinburgh used their influence to exclude him from the pulpits, but the majority voted in his favor; and a full examination vindicated his character, and made his excellences more generally known. All the ministers who were disposed to invite him to preach, were at liberty to do so, except in the presbytery of Edinburgh; here, however, he was accommodated by the magistrates with a church to preach in whenever he visited the city. In Scotland he now warmly advocated the cause of the college in New Jersey: of the results of his labors we shall hear more hereafter.

On his return to London, Whitefield resumed his preaching at Lady Huntingdon's to "the great ones," as he calls them. Thirty, and sometimes even sixty persons of rank attended, although the newspapers gave false and degrading accounts of the reception he met with in Scotland. He now availed himself of the influence he possessed, to forward his intended college, in addition to his orphan-house, for which his plea was, "If some such thing be not done, I cannot see how the southern parts will be provided with ministers; for all are afraid to go over." On this ground he appealed to the trustees of Georgia; reminding them that he had expended five thousand pounds upon the orphan-house; begging them to relieve it, as a charitable institution, from all quit-rent and taxes; and especially to allow him the labor of blacks in cultivating the farm. "White hands," he said, "had left his tract of land uncultivated."

It will not be expected that Whitefield could stay long, even in the courtly circles of London, where he met with so much acceptance. We very soon find him among his old friends at Gloucester and Bristol. The bishop of the latter see, he says, behaved very respectfully to him; he visited also his old tutor, now become one of the prebendaries, and met with the old kindness received at Oxford. "I told him, that my judgment, as I trust, was a little more ripened than it was some years ago; and that as fast as I found out my faults, I should be glad to acknowledge them. He said the offence of the governors of the church would wear off as I grew moderate." The evangelist did not tell the doctor how little he cared for such moderation as the governors of the church in that day required; but he wrote to Lady Huntingdon, on the subject of their favor, "I am pretty easy about that. If I can but act an honest part, and be kept from trimming, I leave all consequences to Him who orders all things well." During this journey, many new converts were won. One of these was a counsellor, who was so much affected, that his zeal in inviting others to hear Whitefield led his wife to suspect him of madness.

An interesting fact connected with Gloucestershire, his native county, may be introduced in this place, though we are not sure that it occurred during this journey. John Skinner of Houndscroft was a strolling fiddler, going from fair to fair, supplying music to any party that would hire him. Having determined to interrupt Mr. Whitefield while preaching, he obtained a standing on a ladder raised to a window near the pulpit. Here he remained a quiet, if not an attentive hearer, till the text was read, when he intended to begin his annoying exercise on the violin. It pleased God, however, while he was putting his instrument in tune, to convey the word preached with irresistible power to his soul; his attention was diverted from his original purpose, he heard the whole sermon, and became a new man.

Happily Whitefield was blessed in bringing to Christ many who were made eminently useful. Among others we might mention the late Rev. Cornelius Winter, an eminent minister, who afterwards accompanied our evangelist in his last voyage to America, and who after his death conveyed his will to England, and sought ordination to return and labor in Georgia. Disappointed in this, he became an able and successful minister in England; and also trained several young men for the Christian ministry, including the late celebrated William Jay of Bath. Whitefield had often been heard by Winter with great pleasure, for he admired his eloquence; but for some time no good effects were apparent. One night, while playing at cards, an amusement in which he much delighted, and though surrounded by a number of gay companions, the thought presented itself to Winter's mind that he might that evening hear his favorite preacher. He broke off from play in the midst of the game, which made his companions very angry, as they suspected where he was going. He tells us that it was a night much to be remembered. He had reason to hope the scales of ignorance were then removed from his eyes, he had a sense of his misery as a sinner, and was led to earnest inquiry after the way of salvation. It is scarcely necessary to say, that he never again played at cards.

From the exhilarating scenes of Gloucestershire and Bristol, we must accompany Whitefield into Cornwall, among the glens and dales of which, or on the seaside to a somewhat similar population and with almost equal success, he spoke "all the words of this life." The robust and determined miners of the west of England, whose very employment gives hardihood alike to their character and frame, at first received him in somewhat rough and unpolished style, but were soon after melted and transformed by the grace which had displayed its triumphs among their brethren at Kingswood. "I am just returned," he writes on one occasion, "from near the Land's End, where thousands and thousands heard the gospel gladly. Everywhere the word of God has run and been glorified. Every day I have been travelling and preaching; and could I stay a month, it might be spent to great advantage. At a place called Port Isaac, the Redeemer's stately steps were indeed seen. At Camelford I preached with great quietness in the streets. At St. Ann's we had a very powerful season; and yesterday at Redruth several thousands attended, and the word was quick and powerful." Again he writes, "Immediately after writing my last, I preached to many thousands at a place called Gwennap. The rain descended, but the grace of God seemed to fall like a gentle dew, sprinkling rain upon our souls. It was indeed a fine spring shower. In the evening I rode to St. Ives, and preached to many who gladly attended to hear the word; a great power seemed to accompany it. On the Lord's day I preached twice to great auditories. On Monday I preached again at Redruth, at ten in the morning, to nearly, as they were computed, ten thousand souls. Arrows of conviction seemed to fly fast." Again, in a communication to the Countess of Huntingdon, he says, "I have been very near the Land's End, and everywhere souls have fled to hear the word preached, 'like doves to their windows.' The harvest is great, yea, very great, but laborers are few. O that the Lord of the harvest would thrust out more laborers." And yet again he says, "Invitations are sent to me from Falmouth and several other places, but I cannot attend to them all at present. I want more tongues, more bodies, more souls, for the Lord Jesus. Had I ten thousand, he should have them all." Such was the noble spirit he displayed, and such were the manner and fruits of his "entering in among" the, at that time, benighted children of Cornwall. A great light shone upon them. They came from the caverns of the earth to welcome its rising, and to look upon its brightness. Thousands of them were indeed "brought out of darkness into marvellous light," and turned by it from sin to holiness, and from Satan to God; and thousands are still rejoicing in its beams.

On his return to London, Whitefield found his assemblies at the countess's "brilliant indeed," and Lord Bolingbroke still one among them. Of this talented nobleman our evangelist at this time indulged a happy hope, which, alas, seems never to have been realized.

In February, 1749, Whitefield made an excursion to Exeter and Plymouth, where he was agreeably surprised to find a great alteration had taken place since his preceding visit, five years before. He loved to "range," as he called it, "after precious souls," and happily for him and for others he found them. During this and subsequent visits to Plymouth, he resided with the Rev. Andrew Kinsman, an excellent Congregational minister, of whom we have already spoken. He was born in Devonshire in 1724, and was therefore ten years younger than Whitefield. While peculiarly amiable in his manners, and remarkable for his regard to his parents, he was unacquainted with the religion of the heart till his seventeenth year, when he met with a volume of Mr. Whitefield's sermons, and one of those on the new birth alarmed him. His pious friends were few, but his religious feelings were deeply moved, and God at length gave him "the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." Concerned for the highest interests of his relatives, he one night, as the family were retiring to rest, broke out, with intense emotion, "What, shall we go to bed without prayer? How do we know but some of us may awake in hell before morning?" This unexpected address struck the family with solemn awe; and while they looked at each other with conscious shame, for the neglect of so clear a duty, he fell upon his knees and prayed with so much readiness and fervor that it excited their astonishment.

As might be expected, his concern for others did not stop here; he was anxious that his neighbors might also find "the unsearchable riches of Christ." He began, therefore, to read Whitefield's sermons to as many as would attend, supposing, with Melancthon, that what had proved so great a blessing to himself, would not fail of similar effects on others, as soon as they were heard. After a short time, he began himself to expound and preach, and was encouraged by many conversions under his ministry, including those of his father, mother, and three sisters. Not long after these events, Whitefield, in entering on one of his voyages to America, had been compelled to stay at Plymouth, where Kinsman first saw and heard him. By a series of remarkable events, Mr. Kinsman was brought to settle as a minister at Plymouth, where the "Tabernacle" was erected on ground given by himself, and the congregation were served by him and other ministers with abundant success. In the whole neighborhood an extraordinary blessing attended his labors, and his usefulness and deliverances from danger were only second to those of Whitefield himself. Nor was he less respected, nor his ministry attended with less success, at Bristol and London – cities to which he was invited by Whitefield; who used to call Bristol "Kinsman's America," alluding to his own reception and success in the western world.

On one occasion, when Whitefield was about to sail for America, he sent for Kinsman to London, and on his arrival dined with his distinguished friend at the Tabernacle house. After dinner there was a violent storm of thunder and lightning. As they stood at the window looking out on the raging elements, Mr. Kinsman, supposing a young clergyman who had dined with them, and who now stood by his side, to be a pious man, familiarly put his hand on his shoulder, and with great cheerfulness and energy repeated the lines of Dr. Watts:

 
"The God who rules on high,
And thunders when he please;
Who rides upon the stormy sky,
And manages the seas —
This awful God is ours,
Our Father, and our love!"
 

The words so appropriately introduced, and so emphatically spoken, made a deep impression on the mind of the young clergyman, and gave rise to a conversation which, by the blessing of God, led to his conversion.

At the Tabernacle in London, the ministry of Mr. Kinsman was greatly distinguished for its excellence and success, and he thought himself highly honored in preaching the first sermon delivered from the pulpit of the present Tabernacle. His musical voice, his lively and pathetic address, and the richness of the evangelical truths he proclaimed, brought numbers of all classes of society to hear him. Among them was Shuter, the comedian, to whom we shall again refer as a hearer of Whitefield, and who years afterwards, in an interview with Kinsman, drew a striking contrast between their professions, and bitterly lamented that he had not cordially embraced religion, when his conscience was impressed under the preaching of the great evangelist.

But we must not stay longer to speak of Kinsman; suffice it to say that he founded, in addition to Plymouth, a new church three miles from thence, at a place now called Devonport, and labored with energy and holy success till the sixty-ninth year of his age, when he died in triumph, February 28, 1793. Of such a man it was truly said, that for Whitefield "he retained the most filial affection to his dying day; and frequently travelled with, and consulted him as a father upon all his religious concerns."

In March Whitefield returned to London, where the feeble state of his health made him feel weary even in his success. He says, "I have seen enough of popularity to be sick of it, and did not the interest of my blessed Master require my appearing in public, the world should hear but little of me henceforward." Yet his zeal abated not. "I dread the thoughts of flagging in the latter stages of my road," is an expression often used in his letters to his friends. He thought that preaching and travelling contributed to his health. In a letter to Hervey, he says, "Fear not your weak body, we are immortal till our work is done. Christ's laborers must live by miracle; if not, I must not live at all, for God only knows what I daily endure. My continual vomitings almost kill me, and yet the pulpit is my cure; so that my friends begin to pity me less, and to leave off that ungrateful caution, 'Spare thyself.' I speak this to encourage you."

All this Whitefield meant. Hence in May we find him preaching at Portsmouth daily, for more than a week, to very large and attentive auditories; where was shown another remarkable instance of the power which attended his preaching, for many who a few days before were speaking all manner of evil against him, were very desirous of his longer stay to preach the gospel among them. From Bristol, June 24, he writes, "Yesterday God brought me here, after a circuit of about eight hundred miles, and enabled me to preach to, I suppose, upwards of a hundred thousand souls. I have been in eight Welsh counties, and I think we have not had one dry meeting. The work in Wales is much upon the advance, and likely to increase daily."

Whitefield returned to London to welcome his wife home from the Bermuda Islands. From her he learned that there his character had been aspersed by one of the clergy; but while he grieved over the fact, he said, "I am content to wait till the day of judgment for the clearing up of my character; and after I am dead, I desire no other epitaph than this, 'Here lies George Whitefield. What sort of a man he was, the great day will discover.'"

In the midst of his sorrows, Whitefield was comforted by a visit from two German ministers, who had been laboring among the Jews with apparently happy results. He found also several of the peeresses, and others of "the great," cordially disposed to receive him; and shortly afterwards was visited by Mr. Grimshaw, a clergyman from Yorkshire, for whom in September he went to preach. Thousands in the village of Haworth attended his preaching, even ten thousand at a time, and a thousand communicants approached the table of the Lord. At Leeds also he preached, at the invitation of Mr. Wesley's people, to ten thousand persons, and Mr. Charles Wesley himself introduced him to the pulpit at Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

In the north of England the visits of Mr. Whitefield were always looked for with intense interest. In one of his letters, he thus describes the state of things there in August, 1756: "It is now a fortnight since I came to Leeds, in and about which I preached eight days successively, three times almost every day, to thronged and affected auditories. On Sunday last at Bradford, in the morning, the audience consisted of above ten thousand; at noon, and in the evening, at Birstal, of nearly double that number. Though hoarse, I was able to speak so that they all heard." These hallowed services were often spoken of by the late Rev. Dr. John Fawcett, for more than half a century an eminent Baptist minister of that neighborhood, to whose soul they proved a rich blessing. After having heard Whitefield at Bradford in the morning, he followed him to Birstal, where a platform was erected at the foot of a hill adjoining the town, whence Mr. Whitefield addressed an immense concourse of people, not fewer, it was believed, than twenty thousand, who were ranged before him on the declivity in the form of an amphitheatre. "I lay," says Fawcett, "under the scaffold, and it appeared as if all his words were addressed to me, and as if he had known my most secret thoughts from ten years of age. As long as life remains, I shall remember both the text and the sermon." Accustomed as he was to preach to large and promiscuous multitudes, when he looked on this vast assemblage, and was about to mount the temporary stage, he expressed to his surrounding friends a considerable feeling of timidity; but when he began to speak, an unusual solemnity pervaded the assembly, and thousands, in the course of the sermon, as was often the fact, gave vent to their emotions by tears and groans. Fools who came to mock, began to pray, and to cry out, "What must we do to be saved?"

Mr. Shirley, in giving an account of this same service, tells us that "not only the field, but the woodlands about it, were covered with crowds collected from different parts. An unusual solemnity pervaded this vast multitude, and at the close of the service the one hundredth psalm was sung, and concluded with Mr. Grimshaw's favorite doxology,

"'Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.'

The volume of sound produced by the united voices of thousands, while it reëchoed through the vale below, had such an effect as no language can describe."

Mr. Grimshaw was a very remarkable clergyman connected with the church of England, though found fault with on account of his irregularity. He studied at Cambridge for the ministry before he was acquainted with the reality of true religion. His conversion was very striking; after which he became a remarkably faithful and pungent preacher. He settled at Haworth, in Yorkshire, where Mr. Whitefield visited him.

In one of the services held by Mr. Whitefield in Yorkshire, a deep solemnity was created by providential circumstances. He had mounted the temporary scaffold to address the thousands before him. Casting a look over the multitude, he elevated his hands, and in an energetic manner implored the divine presence and blessing. With a solemnity peculiarly his own, he then announced his text, "It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment." Heb. 11:27. After a short pause, as he was about to proceed, a wild, terrifying shriek issued from the centre of the congregation. A momentary alarm and confusion ensued. Mr. Whitefield waited to ascertain the cause, and requested the people to remain still. Mr. Grimshaw hurried to the spot, and in a few minutes was seen pressing towards the place where Mr. Whitefield stood. "Brother Whitefield," said he, manifesting in the strongest manner the intensity of his feelings, and the ardor of his concern for the salvation of sinners, "you stand among the dead and the dying. An immortal soul has been called into eternity; the destroying angel is passing over the congregation; cry aloud, and spare not." The awful occurrence was speedily announced to the congregation. After the lapse of a few moments, Mr. Whitefield again announced his text. Again a loud and piercing shriek proceeded from the spot near where Lady Huntingdon and Lady Margaret Ingham were standing. A thrill of horror seemed to escape from the multitude when it was understood that a second person had fallen a victim to the king of terrors. When the consternation had somewhat subsided, Mr. Whitefield gave indications of proceeding with the service. The excited feelings of many were wound up to their highest point. All was hushed; not a sound was to be heard; and a stillness like the awful silence of death spread over the assembly, as he proceeded in melting strains to warn the careless, Christless sinner to "flee from the wrath to come."

As winter was now approaching, Whitefield felt it important to return to the metropolis. During the tour he had made, he won to Christ not a few of those who afterwards laid the foundations of churches now flourishing in the counties of Lancaster, York, and Northumberland. He met, however, with so much "rude treatment here and there, as sent him home praying, 'Lord, give me a pilgrim heart for my pilgrim life.'" He was now in "winter quarters," but was neither idle nor useless. To use his own words, "The glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle, and the shout of a king was in the camp," and that from week to week. "Thousands, thousands crowded to hear." Every day also he heard of instances of conversion. One of these pleased him greatly. It was that of a boatswain, who, before hearing him, knew no more about divine truth "than the whistle he blew on board." He mentions also a boy eleven years of age, a woman of eighty, and a baker, who had been "a Jerusalem sinner," all of whom bowed before the cross, and placed their hopes of salvation on Him who died thereon.

CHAPTER XII.
LABORS IN GREAT BRITAIN – FOURTH VISIT TO AMERICA – NEW TABERNACLE IN LONDON, AND TABERNACLE AT BRISTOL.
1750-1754

At the beginning of the year 1750, Whitefield was still in London. At this time his intended college at Bethesda occupied much of his attention. He wrote to his friends in every quarter for help. His usual appeal was, "We propose having an academy or college at the orphan-house. The house is large, and will hold a hundred. My heart, I trust, is larger, and will hold ten thousand." Though in London, his heart was in America. He says, "Ranging seems my province; and methinks I hear a voice behind me saying, 'This is the way, walk in it.' My heart echoes back, 'Lord, let thy presence go with me, and then send me where thou pleasest.' In the midst of all, America, dear America, is not forgotten. I begin to count the days, and to say to the months, 'Fly fast away, that I may spread the gospel-net once more in dear America.'"

Be it here mentioned, that amid the busy scenes of his life, and while surrounded with the flatteries of the great and noble, Whitefield did not forget the duties he owed to his mother. A person whom he had employed to obtain some comforts for her, had neglected the duty, so that the now aged matron might have felt a week's anxiety. He wrote to her, "I should never forgive myself, was I, by negligence or any wrong conduct, to give you a moment's needless pain. Alas, how little have I done for you. Christ's care for his mother excites me to wish I could do any thing for you. If you would have any thing more brought, pray write, honored mother. * * * Tomorrow it will be thirty-five years since you brought unworthy me into the world. O that my head were waters, and mine eyes fountains of tears, that I might bewail my barrenness and unfruitfulness in the church of God."

While he was now fully engaged in preaching, and was surrounded with flatteries, he did not forget his duty to conflict with sin. He writes, "I find a love of power sometimes intoxicates even God's dear children. It is much easier for me to obey than govern. This makes me fly from that which, at our first setting out, we are apt to court. I cannot well buy humility at too dear a rate."

Dr. Philip Doddridge, as every reader knows, was one of the most pious and accomplished preachers and writers of the Non-conformists of England in his day. Nor was his missionary zeal small in its degree. Though he died as early as 1751, he had said, "I am now intent on having something done among the dissenters, in a more public manner, for propagating the gospel abroad, which lies near my heart. I wish to live to see this design brought into execution, at least into some forwardness, and then I should die the more cheerfully." It was indeed the passion of his life to promote the interests of evangelical truth, and save the souls of men. And though, as his recent eulogist, the Rev. John Stoughton, has said, condemned by some, and suspected by others for so doing, he took a deep and sympathetic interest in the evangelical labors of Whitefield. It seems strange in our day to think of Whitefield being regarded as an enthusiast by orthodox dissenters. Yet there were those who did thus regard him. Bradbury poured on him streams of wit; Barker regarded his sermons as low and coarse; and another in writing calls him "honest, crazy, confident Mr. Whitefield." But Doddridge regarded him as far otherwise, and spoke of him as "a flaming servant of Christ." He prayed on one occasion at the Tabernacle, but Dr. Watts was much grieved by it; and when, on Whitefield's visiting Northampton, Doddridge gave him the use of his pulpit, the managers of the college of which he was president remonstrated with him for so doing.

The visit of Whitefield to Doddridge was in February, 1750, where he met with the Rev. Dr. Sir James Stonehouse, and the Rev. Messrs. Hartley and Hervey. The latter eminent clergyman thus writes: "I have lately seen that most excellent minister of the ever-blessed Jesus, Mr. Whitefield. I dined, supped, and spent the evening with him at Northampton, in company with Dr. Doddridge, and two pious, ingenious clergymen of the church of England, both of them known to the learned world by their valuable writings. And surely I never spent a more delightful evening, or saw one that seemed to make nearer approaches to the felicity of heaven. A gentleman of great worth and rank in the town invited us to his house, and gave us an elegant treat; but how mean was his provision, how coarse his delicacies, compared with the fruit of my friend's lips: they dropped as honey from the honey-comb, and were a well of life. Surely people do not know that amiable and exemplary man, or else, I cannot but think, instead of depreciating, they would applaud and love him. For my part, I never beheld so fair a copy of our Lord, such a living image of the Saviour, such exalted delight in God, such enlarged benevolence to man, such a steady faith in the divine promises, and such a fervent zeal for the divine glory; and all this without the least moroseness of humor, or extravagance of behavior, sweetened with the most engaging cheerfulness of temper, and regulated by all the sobriety of reason and wisdom of Scripture; insomuch that I cannot forbear applying the wise man's encomium of an illustrious woman to this eminent minister of the everlasting gospel: 'Many sons have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.'"

In the month of March, 1750, a general alarm had been awakened by earthquakes in London, and fears were excited by pretended prophecies of still greater devastation. These signal judgments of Jehovah were preceded by great profligacy of manners, and its fruitful parent, licentiousness of principle. Dr. Horne, afterwards dean of Canterbury and bishop of Bristol, in a sermon preached at the time, says, "As to faith, is not the doctrine of the Trinity, and that of the divinity of our Lord and Saviour – without which our redemption is absolutely void, and we are yet in our sins, lying under the intolerable burden of the wrath of God – blasphemed and ridiculed openly in conversation and in print? And as to righteousness of life, are not the people of this land dead in trespasses and sins? Idleness, drunkenness, luxury, extravagance, and debauchery; for these things cometh the wrath of God, and disordered nature proclaims the impending distress and perplexity of nations. And Oh, may we of this nation never read a handwriting upon the wall of heaven, in illuminated capitals of the Almighty, Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin – God hath numbered the kingdom, and finished it. Thou art weighed in the balances of heaven, and found wanting the merits of a rejected Redeemer, and therefore the kingdom is divided and given away."

The shocks felt in London in February and March of this year, were far more violent than any remembered for a long series of years. The earth moved throughout the whole cities of London and Westminster. It was a strong and jarring motion, attended with a rumbling noise like that of thunder. Multitudes of persons of every class fled from these cities with the utmost haste, and others repaired to the fields and open places in the neighborhood. Towerhill, Moorfields, and Hyde Park were crowded with men, women, and children, who remained a whole night under the most fearful apprehensions. Places of worship were filled with persons in the utmost state of alarm. Especially was this the case with those attached to Methodist congregations, where multitudes came all night, knocking at the doors, and for God's sake begging admittance. As convulsions of nature are usually regarded by enthusiasts and fanatics as the sure harbinger of its dissolution, a soldier "had a revelation," that a great part of London and Westminster would be destroyed by an earthquake on a certain night, between the hours of twelve and one o'clock. Believing his assertion, thousands fled from the city for fear of being suddenly overwhelmed, and repaired to the fields, where they continued all night, in momentary expectation of seeing the prophecy fulfilled; while thousands of others ran about the streets in the most wild and frantic state of consternation, apparently quite certain that the day of judgment was about to commence. The whole scene was truly awful.

Under these circumstances, the ministers of Christ preached almost incessantly, and many were awakened to a sense of their awful condition before God, and to rest their hopes of eternal salvation on the Rock of ages. Mr. Whitefield, animated with that burning charity which shone so conspicuously in him, ventured out at midnight to Hyde Park, where he proclaimed to the affrighted and astonished multitudes that there is a Saviour, Christ the Lord. The darkness of the night, and the awful apprehensions of an approaching earthquake, added much to the solemnity of the scene. The sermon was truly sublime, and to the ungodly sinner, the self-righteous pharisee, and the artful hypocrite, strikingly terrific. With a pathos which showed the fervor of his soul, and with a grand majestic voice that commanded attention, he took occasion from the circumstances of the assembly, to call their attention to that most important event in which every one will be interested, the final consummation of all things, the universal wreck of nature, the dissolution of earth, and the eternal sentence of every son and daughter of Adam. The whole scene was one of a most memorable character. Mr. Charles Wesley, Mr. Romaine, and others preached in a similar manner, and with like happy results.

At this period, Whitefield and his female friends especially, were the subjects of royal attention at the court of George the Second. It is said that on one occasion Lady Chesterfield appeared in a dress "with a brown ground and silver flowers," of foreign manufacture. The king, smiling significantly, said to her aloud, "I know who chose that gown for you – Mr. Whitefield; I hear you have attended on him for a year and a half." Her ladyship acknowledged she had done so, and professed her approbation of his character and ministry; and afterwards deeply regretted that she had not said more when she had so good an opportunity. Whitefield had occasion to wait on the secretary of state, in company with Dr. Gifford, a Baptist pastor in London, to ask relief for some persecuted Christians in Ireland, and was assured that "no hurt was designed by the state to the Methodists." He also renewed his friendship with the Messrs. Wesley, and several times exchanged pulpits with them. He writes, "I have now preached thrice in Mr. Wesley's chapel, and God was with us of a truth."

Again was our evangelist tired of London, and again had he grown sick for want of field-preaching. Accordingly he set out for Bristol and other parts of the west of England; and although rain and hail pelted him in his field-pulpits, he preached "about twenty times in eight or nine days." As soon as he found himself in his own element, he saw every thing in his old lights. He says, "Every thing I meet with seems to carry this voice with it: 'Go thou and preach the gospel; be a pilgrim on earth; have no party, or certain dwelling-place.' My heart echoes back, 'Lord Jesus, help me to do or suffer thy will. When thou seest me in danger of nestling, in pity, in tender pity put a thorn in my nest, to prevent me from it.'"

From Bristol, Whitefield went to Taunton, where he met with the Rev. Richard Pearsall, an eminent and excellent Presbyterian minister, of whom he speaks very highly; and from thence, on his way to Plymouth, he stayed at Wellington, to preach for the Rev. Risdon Darracott, who has ever since been distinguished as "the star in the west." Mr. Darracott was the son of a dissenting minister in Dorsetshire, where he was born in 1717, when Whitefield was three years old. He studied for the ministry under the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, at Northampton, and entered on his ministerial course in Cornwall in 1738, which situation he was most reluctantly compelled to leave two years afterwards from violent hemorrhage of the lungs. Under this alarming visitation he spent about six months with his friends in Devonshire, where his fervent-minded father had preached till his death at the age of forty. While here, he had a call to succeed a venerable minister at Wellington, who had recently deceased. He found the congregation small, and the number of communicants but twenty-eight. His ministry soon drew a large congregation, many of whom had never before made a profession of religion, and were first attracted into the town from the neighboring villages out of mere curiosity to hear him. The house of worship was soon insufficient to contain his hearers; and even when it was enlarged, many were frequently compelled to stand out of doors, unable to obtain an entrance. The Rev. Benjamin Fawcett, who preached his funeral sermon, said, "I never knew any congregation which appeared to have so many instances of abiding religious impressions;" and added, "I have good reason to believe that his ministry was owned to the effectual conversion of many hundreds of souls."

The night before the death of this excellent man, which took place in his forty-second year, he exclaimed, "Oh, what a good God have I, in and through Jesus Christ. I would praise him, but my lips cannot. Eternity will be too short to speak his praises." The physician coming in, he said to him, "Oh, what a mercy is it to be interested in the atoning blood of Jesus. I come to the Lord as a vile sinner, trusting in the merits and precious blood of my dear Redeemer. O grace, grace, free grace!" His last words were, "I am going from weeping friends to congratulating angels, and rejoicing saints in glory. He is coming. Oh, speed thy chariot wheels; why are they so long in coming? I long to be gone!" He left in his church more than two hundred communicants.

Whitefield and Darracott were congenial spirits, and Darracott, like his friend, had suffered much reproach in the cause of his Master; he was what Whitefield called him, "a flaming and successful preacher of the gospel." He had just at this time lost three lovely children. "Two of them," says Whitefield, "had died on the Saturday evening before the sacrament; but weeping did not prevent sowing. He preached the next day, and administered as usual. Our Lord strengthened him; and for his three natural, gave him above thirty spiritual children; and he is likely to have many more. He has ventured his little all for Christ; and last week a saint died who left him and his heirs two hundred pounds in land. Did ever any one trust in God, and was forsaken?" This interview with Darracott, and with good old Mr. Pearsall, who had been a preacher of righteousness before Whitefield was born, had an inspiring influence upon him. He says, "I began to take the field again at his dwelling for the spring! I begin to begin to spend and be spent for Him who shed his own dear heart's blood for me. He makes ranging exceedingly pleasant."

Soon after this, Whitefield went again into Yorkshire. At Rotherham he says, "Satan rallied his forces. The crier was employed to give notice of a bear-baiting. You may guess who was the bear! However, I preached twice. The drum was heard, and several watermen attended with great staves. The constable was struck, and two of the mobbers apprehended, but rescued afterwards." Sheffield and Leeds he found to be a new and warmer climate. Lancashire, however, was still but cold to him. All was quiet at Manchester, and he "humbly hoped some had enlisted," but no great impression was then made. At Bolton, a drunkard stood up behind him to preach; and the wife of the man who lent him the field, twice attempted to stab the workman who put up the stand for him. This roused him, and he bore down all opposition by a torrent of eloquence, which quite exhausted him. In the night, however, some rude fellows got into the barn and stables where his chaise and horses had been put, and cut them very shamefully. This conduct he called, "Satan showing his teeth."

CHAPTER XIII.
FIFTH VISIT TO AMERICA – RENEWED LABORS IN GREAT BRITAIN – TOTTENHAM-COURT-ROAD CHAPEL.
1754-1763

On this voyage to America, Whitefield sailed for South Carolina by way of Lisbon. His health demanded repose; he thought that seeing Popery as it is when unrestrained by public opinion, might be of use to him in his future labors; and moreover, he had with him a number of orphans whom he wished comfortably to settle at Bethesda before he visited the northern provinces. It would be pleasant, if our limits would allow it, to furnish the letters he wrote from Lisbon during nearly four weeks, but a few sentences must suffice: "This leaves me an inhabitant of Lisbon. We have now been here almost a week, and I suppose shall stay a fortnight longer. A reputable merchant has received me into his house, and every day shows me the ecclesiastical curiosities of the country. O, my dear friend, bless the Lord of all lords, for causing your lot to be cast in 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 behavior. The air agrees with my poor constitution extremely well. Through divine assistance; I hope what I see will also improve my better part, and help to qualify me better for preaching the everlasting gospel."

In another letter he writes, "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. Oh, happy England! Oh, happy Methodists, who are Methodists indeed! And all I account such, who, being dead to sects and parties, aim at nothing else but as holy a method of living to, and dying in the blessed Jesus."

He was heartily glad to get away from Popish processions and superstitious rites, and again to visit his "dear America."

Our evangelist arrived with his orphans at Beaufort, in South Carolina, May 27, 1754, greatly improved in health, with a heart burning with love and zeal for his Lord and Master. He says, with his usual energy, "Oh that I may at length learn to begin to live. I am ashamed of my sloth and lukewarmness, and long to be on the stretch for God." His family now consisted, "black and white," of one hundred and six members, all dependent on his personal efforts and influence. He regarded his charge as a stewardship for God, and collected accordingly, nothing doubting. It was now summer, and besides the oppressive heat, "great thunders, violent lightnings, and heavy rains" frequently beat upon him as he journeyed from place to place. His health improved, and his spirits rose as he advanced on his journey. At Charleston, and elsewhere, his labors were received with the same degree of acceptance as formerly, and he was much encouraged by the conversion of a clergyman, a faithful successor to Mr. Smith of the city just named, and the first student sent forth from Bethesda.

He arrived at New York, by water, July 27, and divided his labors between that city and Philadelphia almost entirely for nearly two months. In the latter city, he tells us, he was seized with violent cholera morbus, and brought to the gates of death. To use his own words, he "had all his cables out, ready to cast anchor within the port of eternity;" but he was soon "at sea again," although only able to preach once a day for some time. "Everywhere," he says, "a divine power accompanied the word, prejudices were removed, and a more effectual door opened than ever for preaching the gospel." When he looked at "the glorious range for hunting in the American woods," he was at a loss on which hand to turn… "Affection, intense affection cries aloud, Away to New England, dear New England, immediately. Providence, and the circumstances of the southern provinces, point directly to Virginia."

While thus undecided, he visited his old friend Governor Belcher, then governor of New Jersey, and residing at Elizabeth town. He found the good old man ripening for heaven, willing to depart and to be with Christ. At this time the commencement of New Jersey college was held, and as a mark of their respect, the president and trustees conferred on him the honorary degree of master of arts. The meeting of the synod immediately followed, respecting which body he says, "I was much refreshed with the company of the whole synod; such a number of simple-hearted, united ministers I never saw before. I preached to them several times, and the great Master of assemblies was in the midst of us."

Influenced by what he saw and heard in New Jersey, Whitefield determined to go to New England, and to return from thence by Virginia to Georgia, and made his arrangements accordingly; it would comprise a circuit of more than two thousand miles, but he said, "The Redeemer's strength will be more than sufficient."

It has been thought that it was during this visit of Whitefield to New Jersey, and probably at the table of Governor Belcher, that he dined in company with a number of ministers, and held the often-reported conversation with "Father Tennent." After dinner, Mr. Whitefield adverted to the difficulties attending the Christian ministry; lamented that all their zeal availed but little; said that he was weary with the burden of the day; and declared his great comfort in the thought, that in a short time his work would be done, when he should depart and be with Christ. He then appealed to the ministers, if it was not their great comfort that they should soon go to rest. They generally assented, except Mr. Tennent, who sat next to Mr. Whitefield in silence, and by his countenance indicated but little pleasure in the conversation.

Seeing this, Mr. Whitefield, gently tapping him on the knee, said, "Well, brother Tennent, you are the oldest man among us; do you not rejoice to think that your time is so near at hand, when you will be called home?" Mr. Tennent bluntly answered, "I have no wish about it." Mr. Whitefield pressed him again. Mr. Tennent again answered, "No, sir, it is no pleasure to me at all; and if you knew your duty, it would be none to you. I have nothing to do with death; my business is to live as long as I can, as well as I can, until He shall think proper to call me home." Mr. Whitefield still urged for an explicit answer to his question, in case the time of death were left to his own choice. Mr. Tennent replied, "I have no choice about it; I am God's servant, and have engaged to do his business as long as he pleases to continue me therein. But now, brother, let me ask you a question. What do you think I should say, if I was to send my servant into the field to plough; and if at noon I should go to the field, and find him lounging under a tree, and complaining, 'Master, the sun is very hot, and the ploughing hard; I am weary of the work you have appointed me, and am overdone with the heat and burden of the day. Do, master, let me return home, and be discharged from this hard service?' What should I say? Why, that he was a lazy fellow, and that it was his business to do the work that I had appointed him, until I should think fit to call him home."

Accompanied by President Burr, Whitefield set out, October 1, for Boston, and arrived there on the 9th. Here he stayed a week, and saw there, morning after morning, three or four thousand people hanging in breathless silence on his lips, and weeping silent tears. Whitefield himself calls it "a lovely scene," and says he "never saw a more effectual door opened for the gospel. Sinners have been awakened, saints quickened, and enemies made at peace with me. Grace, grace! Surely my coming here was of God. Convictions do fasten, and many souls are comforted." Such were the crowds at the early sermons, that in order to reach the pulpit, he had to get in at the windows of the churches. In a letter to the Countess of Huntingdon, he wrote, "In Boston, the tide ran full as high as ever your ladyship knew it at Edinburgh, or in any part of Scotland."

While at Boston, Whitefield heard with much pleasure of the appointment of his friend Habersham as secretary to the new governor of Georgia, and wrote to him, "I wish you joy of your new honor. May the King of kings enable you to discharge your trust as becomes a good patriot, subject, and Christian. You have now a call, I think, to retire from business, and to give up your time to the public." Our evangelist travelled north as far as Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, generally preaching two or three times a day, till November 7, when he took his farewell at Boston, at four o'clock in the morning. Speaking of this journey, he says, "What have I seen? Dagon falling everywhere before the ark; enemies silenced, or made to own the finger of God; and the friends of Jesus triumphing in his glorious conquests. A hundredth part cannot be told. We had scarcely one dry meeting." When he arrived in the neighborhood of Portsmouth, the northern boundary of his journey, he was overwhelmed with humility as well as joy, by the large cavalcade which came out to meet and welcome him. He says of them, "They were too many;" and of this northern journey, "It seems to me the most important one I was ever engaged in."

Of no portion of Whitefield's life are we so ignorant as of the journey he now made from New England to the South. Journal, letters, historians, and newspapers alike fail us. Gillies tells us only that from Boston he "proceeded to Rhode Island, and went onward through Maryland and Virginia, with a prospect so pleasing, that he lamented he had not come sooner. The whole country seemed eager to hear the gospel, many coming forty or fifty miles, and a spirit of conviction and consolation appeared in every congregation. Prejudices seemed to have fled; churches were opened to him; high and low, rich and poor, now seemed to think favorably of his ministrations; and many acknowledged what God had done for their souls through his preaching, when he was there before." It scarcely appears probable that he went from Rhode Island to Maryland by water; but if he did not, he must have passed through New York, New Jersey, and Philadelphia, and we feel somewhat of surprise that no records of the journey appear to have been preserved.

Dr. Franklin relates a very characteristic anecdote of Mr. Whitefield, which probably occurred in Philadelphia or its neighborhood at a period not later than this. "The eloquent orator" was preaching in an open field, when a drummer was present, who was determined to interrupt the preacher, and rudely beat his drum in a violent manner, in order to drown his voice. Whitefield spoke very loud, but could not make so much noise as the instrument. He therefore called out to the drummer, "Friend, you and I serve the two greatest masters existing, but in different callings. You beat up for volunteers for King George, I for the Lord Jesus: in God's name, then, let us not interrupt each other; the world is wide enough for both, and we may get recruits in abundance." This speech had such an effect on the drummer, that he went away in great good-humor, and left the preacher in full possession of the field.

Virginia, alike from the success of his former labors there, and from the general characteristics of the people, must have presented a scene of intense interest to Whitefield at this time. Everywhere great preparations were made for his coming, and large congregations assembled to hear him. It is said, that on one occasion, as he was speaking on the banks of one of the rivers of this noble province, and spoke of the strength of human depravity, and the insufficiency of the means of grace to convert the sinner without the influence of the Holy Spirit: "Sinners," said he, "think not that I expect to convert a single soul of you by any thing that I can say, without the assistance of Him who is 'mighty to save.' Go and stand by that river, as it moves on its strong and deep current to the ocean, and bid it stop, and see if it will obey you. Just as soon should I expect to stop that river by a word, as by my preaching to stop that current of sin which is carrying you to perdition. Father in heaven, see! they are hurried on towards hell; save them, or they perish!" The impression which this address produced on his hearers was so strong, that they were ready to respond with trembling, "Save, Lord; we perish!"

Whitefield must have been highly gratified on reaching Charleston, in attending the ordination of the young minister there, his first student from Bethesda, of whom we have already spoken as succeeding Mr. Smith; and not less would he rejoice that one of the actors at the Charleston theatre had been "snatched as a brand from the burning."

Though we have not the exact date of his arrival at Savannah, we know that he remained there but a very short time. His health again declined, his former vomitings returned with violence, and his animal spirits failed with his strength. In February, 1755, we again find him at Charleston; and in the latter end of March, he embarked for England, arriving, after a comparatively short voyage, at Newhaven, in Sussex, May the eighth.

Two strong impressions were made on the mind of Whitefield as he now looked on his native land. The first was that of grief on account of its condition. Nothing less than war with France was daily expected, for the French threatened to invade Britain, and were constantly making encroachments on her American colonies. "At this time," he says, "next to Jesus Christ, my king and my country were upon my heart, I hope I shall always think it my duty, next to inviting sinners to the blessed Jesus, to exhort my hearers to resist the first approaches of popish tyranny and arbitrary power. O that we may be enabled to watch and pray against all the opposition of antichrist in our own hearts; for, after all, there lies the most dangerous man of sin." His second feeling was one of holy joy; for during his absence the preaching of the gospel had been abundantly successful. He writes, "Glory be to the great Head of the church! The poor despised Methodists are as lively as ever; and in several churches the gospel is now preached with power. Many in Oxford are awakened to the knowledge of the truth; and I have heard almost every week of some fresh minister or another, who seems 'determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.'"

At the Tabernacle in London, as might be expected, Whitefield enjoyed what he terms "golden seasons;" but by this time not a few of the London clergy had begun to preach Christ with holy fidelity; and as this was the principal thing he desired, he says his "call to go abroad was still more clear." Indeed, so little did he now esteem London as a sphere of labor, and so much did he regard places by the amount of their destitution, that he wished at once to return to America, without ranging through England or Scotland. Hence he says, "Methinks I could set out for America to-morrow, though I have not yet entered upon my country range."

But if he loved America most, England loved herself more, and he was drawn again into Gloucestershire and Bristol. He went also, at the request of Lady Huntingdon, to dedicate the new Tabernacle at Norwich, to which we have already referred. At this last place, he says, August 30, 1755, "Notwithstanding offences have come, there has been a glorious work begun, and is now carrying on. The polite and great seem to hear with much attention; and I scarcely ever preached a week together with greater freedom." For a long period the work of God abundantly prospered in connection with this "Tabernacle." Two years after its dedication, the Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley preached some time in it, and had eight hundred communicants in fellowship, and he said of them, "Their experience, lives, and conversation are so excellent, that there is nothing like it in the whole kingdom."

On Whitefield's return to London, there were those who urgently entreated him to engage in a new controversy with the Messrs. Wesley, some of whose followers had been jealous of his success at Norwich. He declined, with his common remark, "I have no time for controversy," and reserved what he had to say till he could see them "face to face," simply writing to assure them that he had no party designs on foot.

Very soon after this, he set out for his northern circuit; and wonderfully indeed did the Lord grant him success. One thing, however, on this journey grieved him. His friends at Leeds, without his knowledge, had built a large church edifice. He saw at once, that this circumstance would create an "awful separation among the societies" formed by the Messrs. Wesley and his own friends; and lost no time in writing to those ministers, that they might endeavor to prevent a breach. Both the plan and the spirit of this undertaking so grieved him, that he exclaimed, "Oh this self-love, this self-will, is the devil of devils." This he wrote to Lady Huntingdon, a proof that party was not their object; and it is pleasant to add, that Whitefield's fears were groundless. Leeds, even then, contained population sufficient to fill both houses, and the whole movement "fell out rather to the furtherance of the gospel." During two months he preached twice, and some days three times, to greater numbers than ever before, inviting them to Christ, and "exhorting them to pray for King George, and the dear friends in America." He heard at this time, that the American ladies were making the soldiers' coats; and he immediately wrote to urge his own female friends in the new world to be "some of the most active in this labor of love."

Though Mr. Whitefield stood very high in the esteem of that class of ministers who embraced his views of evangelical truth, and who approved the plans he pursued for the evangelization of the world, they never considered him perfect, nor were some of them backward, when they deemed it needful, to reprove him. In a sermon he once preached in Haworth church, Yorkshire, of which his friend Grimshaw was the minister, having spoken severely of those professors of the gospel who, by their loose and evil conduct, caused the ways of truth to be evil spoken of, he intimated his hope, that it was not necessary to enlarge much on that topic to the congregation before him, who had so long enjoyed the labors of an able and faithful preacher; and he was willing to believe that their profiting appeared to all men. This latter expression roused Mr. Grimshaw's spirit, and notwithstanding his great regard for the preacher, he stood up and interrupted him, saying, with a loud voice, "O sir, for God's sake, do not speak so; I pray you, do not flatter. I fear the greater part of them are going to hell with their eyes open."

Notwithstanding the astonishing labors of Whitefield on this tour, he returned to London apparently in full flesh, and was congratulated by his friends on his improved appearance. Alas, all this, as he well knew, was disease, which indeed very soon became apparent. He was seized with inflammatory sore throat, that was followed by quinsy, assuming an almost fatal aspect. One physician prescribed silence and warmth, and the preacher "promised to be very obedient," but a few days afterwards, another recommended a perpetual blister: this proposal roused him, and he determined to try his own remedy – perpetual preaching. The remedy itself was painful, but he said, "When this grand catholicon fails, it is all over with me." At this time the sad news of the earthquake at Lisbon arrived in London; he was unable to preach on the subject, but when told of it he said, "Blessed be God, I am ready; I know that my Redeemer liveth. Oh that all in Portugal had known this! Then an earthquake would only be a rumbling chariot to carry the soul to God. Poor Lisbon, how soon are thy riches and superstitious pageantry swallowed up!"

In the winter of 1755-6, he was applied to to preach in the vicinity of the two great theatres, which he began to do in Long Acre chapel. Disturbances took place, and the Bishop of London interposed to stop him. In the end he erected Tottenham Court-road chapel, as already detailed in our third chapter.

Mr. Whitefield's ministry in London at this time was still successful. Thousands hung on his lips with delight, not a few of whom were won to the service of Christ. He tells us, among many similar facts, of the conversion of a Mr. Crane, who was afterwards appointed steward of the orphan-house in Georgia. This gentleman had one evening determined to visit the theatre, and set out for Drury-lane; that house being crowded, he resolved to go to Covent-garden; that also being so full that he could not obtain admittance, he changed his plan, and resolved on being entertained with one of Whitefield's sermons, and hastened to Tottenham Court-road chapel. It pleased God to impress the word on his heart, and he became an eminent Christian. So truly is the prediction verified, "I am found of them who sought me not."

During this year he published "A Short Address to Persons of all Denominations, occasioned by an Alarm of an intended Invasion." We have examined it, and not without pleasure. It is a faithful exposure of Popery and its bitter fruits.

It is a charge often preferred against the faithful ministers of Christ, by those whose consciences testify to their own guilt, that they are personal in their remarks, and mean to censure particular individuals. It is certain that this was often done by Mr. Whitefield, and sometimes with very happy effect. He once drew, from the conduct of his female servant, the picture of a Christian failing in his duty, which painfully distressed her, till he gave her an assurance of his entire forgiveness.

Nor was this the only time when his hearers were compelled to feel, "he means me." The celebrated comedian, Shuter, had a great personal regard for Mr. Whitefield, and not unfrequently attended his ministry. At one period of his popularity he was acting in a drama under the character of Ramble. During the run of the performance, he attended service at Tottenham Court chapel, and was seated in a pew exactly opposite the pulpit. Mr. Whitefield on that occasion gave full vent to his feelings, and in his own energetic manner invited sinners to the Saviour. While doing this, fixing his eye full on Shuter, he added, "And thou, poor Ramble, who hast long rambled from him, come also. Oh, end your rambling by coming to Jesus." Shuter was exceedingly struck, and going afterwards to Whitefield, he said, "I thought I should have fainted; how could you serve me so?"

In the early part of 1756, Whitefield was engaged in London, preaching and collecting for the poor not only at Bethesda, but also for the French Protestants. At the Tabernacle, a man came up to him in the pulpit, threatening his life, and handing him three anonymous letters denouncing sudden and certain death, unless he ceased to preach and to pursue the offenders by law. One of these letters Whitefield sent to the government, who at once offered a reward, and his majesty's pardon, to any one who would discover the writer. While this fact gratified, it also embarrassed him. He wrote to Lady Huntingdon, "My greatest distress is to act so as to avoid rashness on the one hand, and timidity on the other." For his own sake, he would not have cared about the matter; but looking at it as connected with the cause of civil and religious freedom, he wisely allowed the law to take its course at the hazard of his own life by assassination. Agreeably with the advice of the government, he carried the whole affair into the court of the King's Bench; this alarmed the offenders, and the annoyance ceased.

We next find him at Bristol, but not to rest, though the labors and anxieties of the winter and spring had nearly worn out his strength and spirits. Here he preached as usual, and then returned to London. During this journey he preached in several places in Gloucestershire, his native county, and in Bradford, Frome, Warminster, and Portsmouth, spending about three months in the tour.

In the county which gave Whitefield birth, is still to be seen a chair on which he often sat, and on which may be yet read the following lines:

 
"If love of souls should e'er be wanting here,
Remember me, for I am Whitefield's chair;
I bore his weight, was witness to his fears,
His earnest prayers, his interesting tears.
His holy soul was fired with love divine:
If thine be such, sit down and call me thine."
 

A very few weeks passed, and we find him in Kent. In a letter written July 27, after his visit to that county, he says, "The gospel flourishes in London. I am just returned from preaching at Sheerness, Chatham, and in the camp." On the next day he set off towards Scotland. On August 14, he writes from Sunderland, "How swiftly doth my precious time pass away! It is now a fortnight since I came to Leeds, in and about which I preached eight days, thrice almost every day, to thronged and affected auditories. On Sunday last at Bradford, in the morning, the auditory consisted of about ten thousand; at noon and in the evening, at Birstal, to nearly double the number. Though hoarse, I was helped to speak so that all heard. Next morning I took a sorrowful leave of Leeds, preached at Doncaster at noon, and at York the same night. On Wednesday, at Warstall, about fifty miles off; on Thursday, twice at Yarm; and last night and this morning, here." Wherever he labored, he heard of the good effects of his preaching in those places last year, and was constantly finding "many trophies of redeeming love." Such was the effect of the two sermons he preached at Birstal, that "several hundreds rode eight miles with him in the evening, singing and praising God."

In a day or two after this, we find him at Edinburgh and Glasgow, preaching, as usual, to vast crowds, and with his accustomed success. At the former places especially, even politicians gave him a cordial welcome, and thronged to hear him, while the newspapers applauded him for his spirit-stirring exposures of "Popish tyranny and arbitrary power." He preached twice every day in the Orphan-hospital park, and blended with almost every sermon rousing appeals to the Protestantism, courage, and loyalty of the Scotch. At the close of one of his sermons he pleaded the cause of the poor Highlanders, and collected at its close about three hundred dollars.

On his way back to London, Whitefield held a peculiarly solemn and refreshing meeting with his friends at Leeds; and after it, he braced his nerves by a tour of mountain preaching in company with his friend Grimshaw. But it was now late in October, and as he found "these cold countries bringing on his last year's disorder," and having, as he significantly says, "grown very prudent," he returned to London, and dedicated Tottenham Court-road church edifice. Another errand also had taken him to that city. The new governor of Georgia had sent for him, to consult with him before sailing to that colony. Whitefield met him, and was so much delighted with him, that he wrote off to Bethesda to prepare them for a state visit. He says, "Waited upon his excellency, and gave him, and all whom he pleases to bring, an invitation to Bethesda. Dear Mrs. C – will make proper provision." He went even farther, and proposed that the governor, if possible, should be received at Bethesda with military honors.

The success of his new house of worship in Tottenham Court-road showed the necessity and propriety of its erection on that spot. Several persons of distinction came, and engaged permanent seats; and the place was often so crowded, that hundreds were unable to obtain admission. It was now usual with him to preach about fifteen times every week, which, with a weak appetite, want of rest, and much care upon his mind, greatly enfeebled him. He writes, "But the joy of the Lord is my strength; and my greatest grief is, that I can do no more for Him who hath done and suffered so much for me."

In the following year, 1757, Whitefield planned another journey to Scotland, at the time the general assembly of the church was held. Before leaving London, he had placed the affairs of his projected college in the hands of Lord Halifax, and he now seems to have hoped that this journey to Scotland would have promoted that object, as well as others. It is said, that about a hundred ministers at a time attended his sermons, thirty of whom invited him to a public entertainment. Lord Cathcart, his majesty's commissioner to the assembly, also invited him to his own table. Whitefield says that he preached "just fifty times" on this visit, which extended to about a month.

From Scotland he went, in June, as we have seen, to Ireland, and enjoyed, in the midst of no small persecution, much preaching, and much success. On his return to London, he found that the governor of Georgia had visited Bethesda, and promised to communicate his sentiments to Lord Halifax, "concerning its being enlarged into a college;" but the pressure of public affairs hindered his application to the government. Bad news arrived from America, "about the fleet," and therefore Whitefield kept a fast-day at his houses of worship.

The health of our evangelist now sadly failed. He was brought to live on the "short allowance of preaching but once a day, and thrice on the Sunday;" very "short allowance" for him. Once, however, he broke through the restraint, and preached three times on the success of the king of Prussia; which, he says, "somewhat recovered" him, after he had been for a week at the gates of the grave. He was not able this winter to attempt what he considered great things; but Tottenham Court was his Bethel, as he called it. This house was then surrounded by a beautiful piece of ground, and he formed the plan of building on it an almshouse for "twelve godly widows," as a "standing monument that the Methodists were not against good works." This charity he soon carried into effect. His thoughts, however, were not confined to home. Although broken down in health and spirits, by weakness and want of rest, he watched the affairs of Prussia with intense interest, and assured the German Protestants, through Professor Francke, that "we looked on their distresses as our own."

In the spring of 1758, he laid the foundation-stone of his almshouse, and in June of the same year began to select its inmates. Pointing to these houses, some years afterwards, he said to a gentleman who was visiting him, "Those are my redoubts. The prayers of the poor women who reside in them, protect me in my house." Having arranged for the supply of his London pulpits, Whitefield went into the west of England, and proceeded from thence into Wales. But his health was so feeble, that he could not bear to drive, nor even ride in a one-horse chaise. The roads were rough, and riding shook him nearly to pieces. "Every thing," he says, "wearies this shattered bark now." A friend purchased for him a close chaise, advancing the money until he could conveniently repay it. He deeply felt this kindness, because by no other means could he have itinerated. "I would not," he says, "lay out a single farthing but for my blessed Master; but it is inconceivable what I have undergone these three weeks. I never was so before. O for a hearse to carry my weary carcass to the wished for grave." During all this tour he was unable to sit up in company even once; yet he often preached to ten or fifteen thousand people, and made their "tears flow like water from the rock." His views of himself at this time were more than usually humble. He said to Lady Huntingdon, "Oh, I am sick – sick in body, but infinitely more so in mind, to see so much dross in my soul. Blessed be God, there is One who will sit as a refiner's fire, to purify the sons of Levi. I write out of the burning bush. Christ is there; Christ is there!"

Among the many illustrations of Scripture which Whitefield often introduced into his sermons, one is truly worthy of record. Preaching from the words, "Wherefore, glorify ye the Lord in the fires," Isa. 24:15, he says, "When I was, some years ago, at Shields, I went into a glass-house, and standing very attentively, I saw several masses of burning glass of various forms. The workman took one piece of glass, and put it into one furnace, then he put it into a second, and then into a third. I asked him, 'Why do you put that into so many fires?' He answered me, 'Oh, sir, the first was not hot enough, nor the second, and therefore we put it into the third, and that will make it transparent.' 'Oh,' thought I, 'does this man put this glass into one furnace after another, that it may be rendered perfect? Oh, my God, put me into one furnace after another, that my soul may be transparent, that I may see God as he is.'"

In the month of July, Whitefield again set out for Scotland, preaching on his way in many pulpits, including "Bishop Bunyan's," as he used to call him, at Bedford, Berridge's at Everton, and Doddridge's at Northampton. Four Episcopal clergymen lent him their pulpits. His health received, for some time, little benefit, so that he sometimes feared he must return. But he adds, "Through divine strength, I hope to go forward; and shall strive, as much as in me lies, to die in this glorious work." He preached and collected in Scotland with his accustomed energy and success, and returned to London with his health somewhat renovated. This year he lost by death some of his earliest and warmest friends, including Hervey in England, and Presidents Burr and Edwards, and Governor Belcher, in America. Such removals gave him also "a desire to depart," but his work on earth was not yet done.

Three principal facts connected with our evangelist may be said to mark the year 1759. One was, that he had the satisfaction to clear off all his debts for the orphan-house. "Bethesda's God," he writes, "lives for ever, and is faithful and all-sufficient." He longed again to visit America, but several difficulties intervened for the present.

A second event which marked the year, was another journey to Scotland. He complains in his letters, that though his congregations at Edinburgh and Glasgow were never more numerous and attentive, yet, with respect to the power of religion, it was a dead time in Scotland, in comparison with London and several other parts of England. His presence in Scotland, however, at this time was very important, especially in collecting for his orphan-house and the Highland Society for the support of children. Many Scottish soldiers were now in America, which greatly increased the interest felt in every thing relating to it.

In this year, 1759, Mr. Whitefield also for the first time visited Brighthelmstone, now called Brighton, a very fashionable watering-place, where George IV. afterwards, while regent, built a tawdry tasteless palace. The preacher's first sermon was delivered under a tree in a field behind the White Lion inn. Among his congregation on that day was a young man named Tuppen, about eighteen years of age. He had been educated by a pious mother in the strict observance of the external parts of religion, but was entirely destitute of its power. He attended not so much from curiosity, as from the intention to insult and interrupt the preacher. He tells us, "I had therefore provided myself with stones in my pocket, if opportunity offered, to pelt the preacher; but I had not heard long, before the stone was taken out of my heart of flesh; and then the other stones, with shame and weeping, were dropped one by one out upon the ground." The words, "Turn ye, turn ye," became the means of turning him from sin to God. Mr. Tuppen became an excellent Christian minister, and labored as a pastor for some years in Portsmouth. He then removed to the city of Bath, where he originated a congregation, and built a house for public worship. He was succeeded in this important sphere by the late distinguished William Jay, who labored there for about sixty-four years.

Such was the prosperity attendant on the efforts of Messrs. Whitefield, Madan, Romaine, Berridge, Venn, and Fletcher, at Brighton, that Lady Huntingdon felt it her duty to erect a church edifice there, and being unable to do it in any other way, sold her jewels to the amount of nearly three thousand five hundred dollars. The cause still flourishes there, and very many have been turned to righteousness.

While Whitefield's ministry at the Tabernacle was at its height of popularity, Foote, a comedian of eminent talent for mimicry, who was frequently in difficulties on account of his love of ridicule, by which indeed his life was shortened, employed his wit to bring the distinguished preacher into contempt. One of his biographers says, that "very pressing embarrassments in his affairs compelled him to bring out his comedy of 'The Minor,' in 1760, to ridicule Methodism, which, though successful, gave great offence, and was at last suppressed." Of this miserable piece of buffoonery, it may be enough to say, that Foote, and the agents employed at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court-road chapel to collect materials from Whitefield for the accomplishment of their object, were so disgracefully ignorant of the inspired writings, as not to know that what they took for Mr. Whitefield's peculiar language was that of the word of God.

Lady Huntingdon interposed in the matter, first with the Lord Chamberlain, by whose license alone any play could then be performed in London, and then with Mr. Garrick, the latter of whom assured her that he would use his influence to exclude it, and added, that had he been aware of the offence it was adapted to give, it should never have appeared with his concurrence. The representation of this piece of mummery, as might have been expected, considerably increased Whitefield's popularity, and brought thousands of new persons to hear the gospel: thus Providence gave him the victory over his opposers.

To report the sicknesses, the labors, and the successes of Whitefield from this time to that of his sixth embarkation for America, would be little more than a repetition of the past. Suffice it to say, that in England, and in Scotland, he labored amid much ill-health, and surrounded with many dangers; but at length, having found an Episcopal clergyman, the Rev. John Berridge, a man of somewhat eccentric manners, but of great learning, of eminent piety, and of burning zeal, who was willing to labor for a time in London, Whitefield set sail in the ship Fanny, Captain Archibald Galbraith, bound from Greenock to Virginia, June 1, 1763, and arrived at Rappahannock, after a tedious, but otherwise pleasant voyage of about twelve weeks, in the last week of August.

CHAPTER XIV.
SIXTH VISIT AND LABORS IN AMERICA – RENEWED LABORS IN GREAT BRITAIN.
1763-1767

Whitefield was now for the sixth time in America. He was twelve weeks on the voyage; but though tedious, it had done him good. "I enjoyed," he says, "that quietness which I have in vain sought after for some years on shore." Owing to the violence of his asthma, he had set sail "with but little hopes of farther public usefulness;" but after being six weeks at sea, he wrote to a friend, "Who knows but our latter end may yet increase? If not in public usefulness, Lord Jesus, let it be in heart-holiness. I know who says Amen. I add, Amen and amen."

On his arrival in Virginia, Whitefield was surrounded by many Christian friends, the fruits of his former labors in that colony, but whom he had not hitherto known. It was with great difficulty, however, that he preached to them; for though his general health was better, his breathing was very bad. The months of September, October, and November, he spent in Philadelphia. He says, "Here are some young bright witnesses rising up in the church. Perhaps I have already conversed with forty new creature ministers of various denominations. Sixteen popular students, I am credibly informed, were converted in New Jersey college last year. What an open door if I had strength! Last Tuesday we had a remarkable season among the Lutherans; children and grown people were much impressed." Ill as he was, he preached twice a week, and with his usual success.

He intensely desired at this time to visit Georgia, but was absolutely prohibited by his physicians, till he had recovered his strength. In the end of November, therefore, he passed over into New Jersey, visiting the college, and Elizabethtown. He tells us that at the college he had "four sweet seasons." His spirits rose at the sight of the young soldiers who were to fight when he had fallen. It was now winter, and "cold weather and a warm heart" put him in good spirits, so that he was able to preach three times a week.

A young man, a member of the college, hearing that Whitefield was to preach in the neighborhood, and being more than a little anxious to ascertain whether he really deserved all the celebrity he enjoyed, went to hear him. The day was very rainy, and the audience was small; the preacher, accustomed to address thousands, did not feel his powers called forth as at other times. After having heard about one-third part of the sermon, the young man said to himself, "The man is not so great a wonder after all – quite commonplace and superficial – nothing but show, and not a great deal of that;" and looking round upon the audience, he saw that they appeared about as uninterested as usual, and that old father – , who sat directly in front of the pulpit, and who always went to sleep after hearing the text and plan of the sermon, was enjoying his accustomed nap. About this time, Whitefield stopped. His face went rapidly through many changes, till it looked more like a rising thunder-cloud than any thing else; and beginning very deliberately, he said, "If I had come to speak to you in my own name, you might rest your elbows upon your knees, and your heads upon your hands, and sleep; and once in a while look up and say, 'What does the babbler talk of?' But I have not come to you in my own name. No; I have come to you in the name of the Lord God of hosts, and" – here he brought down his hand and foot at once, so as to make the whole house ring – "and I must, and will be heard." Every one in the house started, and old father – among the rest. "Aye, aye," continued the preacher, looking at him, "I have waked you up, have I? I meant to do it. I am not come here to preach to stocks and stones; I have come to you in the name of the Lord God of hosts, and I must, and I will have an audience." The congregation was fully aroused, and the remaining part of the sermon produced a considerable effect.

From New Jersey, Whitefield passed on to New York, where he says, "Such a flocking of all ranks I never saw before at New York… Prejudices have most strangely subsided. The better sort flock as eagerly as the common people, and are fond of coming for private gospel conversation. Congregations continue very large, and I trust saving impressions are made upon many." Such also was his influence as a philanthropist, that though prejudices ran high against the Indians, on account of a threatened insurrection in the south, he collected about six hundred dollars for Dr. Wheelock's Indian school at Lebanon, Conn., which he soon after visited with much pleasure.

An extract of a letter from New York, dated Jan. 23, 1754, which appeared in the Boston Gazette, may show the esteem in which he was held: "The Rev. George Whitefield has spent seven weeks with us, preaching twice a week, with more general approbation than ever; and has been treated with great respect by many of the gentlemen and merchants of this place. During his stay he preached two charity sermons, the one on the occasion of the annual collection for the poor, in which double the sum was collected that ever was upon the like occasion; the other was for the benefit of Mr. Wheelock's Indian school at Lebanon, for which he collected, notwithstanding the present prejudices of many people against the Indians, the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds. In his last sermon, he took a very affectionate leave of the people of this city, who expressed great concern at his departure. May God restore this great and good man, in whom the gentleman, the Christian, and accomplished orator shine forth with such peculiar lustre, to a perfect state of health, and continue him long a blessing to the world and the church of Christ."

Leaving New York, he visited and preached, as far as his strength would allow, at Easthampton Bridge, Hampton, and Southhold, on Long Island; at Shelter Island, and at New London, Norwich, and Providence.

Whitefield arrived at Boston in the end of February, 1764, and was welcomed by multitudes with cordial affection; and again he saw "the Redeemer's stately steps in the great congregation." Boston at that time was visited with small-pox, and Whitefield therefore devoted much of his labor to the adjacent towns. Writing from Concord, he says, "How would you have been delighted to have seen Mr. Wheelock's Indians. Such a promising nursery of future missionaries, I believe, was never seen in New England before. Pray encourage it with all your might." About two months after his arrival in Boston, his illness returned, but did not long prevent him from preaching, and the people still flocked in crowds to hear him. He left Boston for the south; but messengers were sent to entreat his return, and especially urged him to renew his six o'clock morning lecture. He did return, but was now unable to preach at the early hour they desired; he appeared, however, in the pulpit for some time on three occasions in the week, and such was the number of converts discovered, that after he had left it was proposed to send him a book filled with their names, as desiring his return.

We ought to have said, that according to the Boston Gazette, about the time of the arrival of Whitefield, "at a meeting of the freeholders and other inhabitants of the town of Boston, it was unanimously voted that the thanks of the town be given to the Rev. George Whitefield, for his charitable care and pains in collecting a considerable sum of money in Great Britain for the distressed sufferers by the great fire in Boston, 1760. A respectable committee was appointed to wait on Mr. Whitefield, to inform him of the vote, and present him with a copy thereof."

Notwithstanding the earnest entreaties of his friends, he left Boston in the early part of June. On the first of that month he wrote, "Friends have even constrained me to stay here, for fear of running into the summer's heat. Hitherto I find the benefit of it. Whatever it is owing to, through mercy, I am much better in health than I was this time twelve months, and can preach thrice a week to very large auditories without hurt; and every day I hear of some brought under concern. This is all of grace."

Sorrowfully parting from his friends at Boston, Whitefield left them for New York by way of New Haven. Here he preached to the students, and had taken his leave of them; but such was the impression he had made on their minds, that they requested the president to go after him, to entreat for another "quarter of an hour's exhortation." He complied with the request, and the effect was what he called "the crown of the expedition." He continued at New York till the end of August. While there he writes, "At present my health is better than usual, and as yet I have felt no inconvenience from the summer's heat. I have preached twice lately in the fields, and we sat under the blessed Redeemer's shadow with great delight. My late excursions upon Long Island, I trust, have been blessed. It would surprise you to see above one hundred carriages at every sermon in the new world."

On his way to Philadelphia, in September, Whitefield preached at the New Jersey college commencement; for which, and for the influence he had exerted in favor of the institution, the trustees sent him a vote of thanks. His reception at the college was all he could desire. The governor and the ex-governor of the state, with many other gentlemen, attended, and every other mark of respect was shown him. At Philadelphia, he describes the effect of his labors as "great indeed," and as usual, he was compelled to exclaim, "Grace, grace!"

Leaving Pennsylvania, he went on through Virginia; here he tells us, in places as "unlikely as Rome itself," he found societies of Christians, formed and led on by a wealthy planter of that colony; they met him in a body, wishing publicly to identify themselves with him. "Surely the Londoners," he writes, "who are fed to the full, will not envy the poor souls in these parts. I almost determine to come back in the spring" from Georgia to them.

On one occasion, while he was preaching in this colony, a Mr. Allen, afterwards a member of the eminent Mr. Davies' church at Hanover, and who, with his family, "addicted himself to the ministry of the saints," fell on the ground at full length, suddenly, as if shot through the heart, and lay for the remainder of the evening as one who was dead. His descendants are now very numerous, and many of them are among the most zealous Christians in that state.

From Virginia, Whitefield proceeded to South Carolina, and, Nov. 22, wrote, "At Newbern, last Sunday, good impressions were made. I have met with what they call 'New Lights' in almost every place, and have the names of several of their preachers." Having preached at Charleston, he passed on to Bethesda, and had the happiness to find the whole colony in a prosperous condition. Here he spent the winter, and writes, "Peace and plenty reign at Bethesda. All things go on successfully. God hath given me great favor in the sight of the governor, council, and assembly. A memorial was presented for an additional grant of lands, consisting of two thousand acres. It was immediately complied with. Both houses addressed the governor on behalf of the intended college. A warm answer was given; and I am now putting every thing in repair, and getting every thing ready for that purpose. Every heart seems to leap for joy at the prospect of its future usefulness to this and the neighboring colonies. He who holdeth the stars in his right hand will direct, in due time, whether I shall directly embark for England, or take one tour more to the northward. I am in delightful winter quarters for once. His excellency dined with me yesterday, and expressed his satisfaction in the warmest terms. Who knows how many youths may be trained up for the service of the ever-loving and altogether lovely Jesus. Thus far, however, we may set up our Ebenezer. Hitherto the bush hath been burning, but is not consumed." To this statement he adds, "Mr. Wright hath done much in a little time; but he hath worked night and day, and not stirred a mile for many weeks. Thanks be to God, all outward things are settled on this side the water. The auditing the accounts, and laying the foundation for a college, hath silenced enemies and comforted friends. The finishing of this affair confirms my call to England at this time."

But the intense anxiety of multitudes to hear his preaching, prevented Whitefield from leaving America for several months longer. He had, indeed, as early as the middle of February, determined not to visit New England till his return from Europe; but arriving at Charleston, he was compelled to devote to labors there the whole month of March, and then set out for Philadelphia, preaching at many places on his way. He says, "All the way from Charleston to this place the cry is, 'For Christ's sake, stay and preach to us.' Oh for a thousand lives to spend for Jesus."

The heat of the weather made it indispensable for his health that he should go to sea, and July 5th he once more arrived in England, on his last return voyage from America. He says, "We have had but a twenty-eight days' passage. The transition has been so sudden, that I can scarcely believe that I am in England. I hope, ere long, to have a more sudden transition into a better country." When he arrived in his native land, he was ill of a nervous fever, which left him extremely weak in body, and unable to exert himself as formerly. Yet, still intent on his work, he did what he could, in expectation of soon entering into his eternal rest. "Oh, to end life well!" he writes; "methinks I have now but one river to pass over. And we know of One who can carry us over without being ankle deep."

On Whitefield's arrival in England, he found that his excellent friend the Countess of Huntingdon was erecting a large and beautiful church edifice in the fashionable city of Bath, and to that place he at once repaired. There he found several of his clerical brethren preaching in the private chapel at Bretby Hall, belonging to the Earl of Chesterfield, who had placed it for the time being at the disposal of Lady Huntingdon. On Whitefield's arrival, this place was of necessity exchanged for the Park, where the concourse of people was as vast as ever.

October 6, he preached the dedicatory sermon of Lady Huntingdon's church at Bath, to an immense crowd. To his friend Robert Keen, Esq., one of the managers of his London houses, he wrote, "Could you have come, and have been present at the opening of the chapel, you would have been much pleased. The building is extremely plain, and yet equally grand. A most beautiful original! All was conducted with great solemnity. Though a wet day, the place was very full, and assuredly the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls consecrated and made it holy ground by his presence."

He made but a short stay at Bath, and returned to London, still feeble and tottering, but still compelled to labor. He had an interview with his old friend John Wesley, who says of him, "He seemed to be an old man, being fairly worn out in his Master's service, though he has hardly seen fifty years; and yet it pleases God that I, who am now in my sixty-third year, find no disorder, no weakness, no decay, no difference from what I was at five and twenty, only that I have fewer teeth, and more gray hairs." Writing to a friend at Sheerness, in Kent, Jan. 18, 1766, Whitefield says, "I am sorry to acquaint you that it is not in my power to comply with your request, for want of more assistance. I am confined in town with the care of two important posts, when I am only fit to be put into some garrison among invalids." By some means, however, he obtained a release, for in March we find him at Bath and Bristol. Writing, March 17, he says, "The uncertainty of my motions has made me slow in writing; and a desire to be a while free from London cares, has made me indifferent about frequent hearing from thence. Last Friday evening, and twice yesterday, I preached at Bath, to very thronged and brilliant auditories."

Whitefield's interest in America was not lessened by his absence from it. He ardently loved it, and wished for the return of its peace and prosperity. He hoped, with many others, that the repeal of the Stamp Act would lead to this result; hence, we find in his Letter-book this entry: "March 16, 1766, Stamp Act repealed. Gloria Deo."

Among the remarkable men of his day was Samson Occam. He was descended, on his mother's side, from Uncas, chief of the Mohegans. He was born in 1723, of parents who led a wandering life, depending on hunting and fishing for subsistence. None cultivated their lands, all dwelt in wigwams, and Samson was one of the very first of the tribe who learned to read. About the year 1740, at the age of seventeen, he was converted by the labors of Whitefield, Gilbert Tennent, and their companions. In a year or two he had learned to read his Bible with ease, and to his great advantage. He was a pupil at the school originally founded by Dr. Wheelock, at Lebanon, Conn., for the benefit exclusively of Indians, four years, and was then a teacher for eleven years. In 1759, he was ordained by the Suffolk Presbytery, and became an eminently zealous preacher to the scattered Mohegans. In 1766, in company with the Rev. Mr. Whitaker of Norwich, he went to England to advocate the cause of Dr. Wheelock's Indian school, which school was afterwards merged in Dartmouth college, of which Mr. Wheelock was also founder and first president. Occum preached in the churches of Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon, as well as in some others of different denominations. We remember half a century ago hearing an old lady at Kidderminster, the town of Richard Baxter, describe a scene which occurred in Fawcett's church in that town. Occum had preached, and a handsome collection had been taken for his object; with tears of gratitude and joy the good man thanked them, and in tones which neither the weeping nor the mimetic talent of the old lady would allow her fully to imitate, assured them that the blessing of many ready to perish would come upon them. The place was a Bochim, and nothing could prevent the people from having the plates again carried round, that they might add to the liberal contributions they had already made.

Occum preached in Great Britain from three to four hundred sermons; and as no North American Indian had ever preached in England before, public curiosity was great, and his pecuniary success considerable. He brought to this country, with his companion, as the produce of their labors, more than forty-five thousand dollars. In 1772 he published an interesting sermon which he preached to an Indian at his execution. An excellent portrait of him was published in England.

Dr. Timothy Dwight writes, "I heard Mr. Occum twice. His discourses, though not proofs of superior talents, were decent; and his utterance in some degree eloquent. His character at one time labored under some imputations; yet there is good reason to believe that most, if not all of them were unfounded; and there is satisfactory evidence that he was a man of piety." An account of the Montauk Indians, written by Occum, is preserved in the "Historical Collections." He died at New Stockbridge, N. Y., July, 1792. It has been said that the first Sunday-school in these United States was founded in the house of his sister, a few months after his death.

Occum was somewhat of a wit, and could well apply his talent in his conflict with the enemies of divine truth. He once ended a long controversial conversation with a Universalist, by saying, "Well, well, remember, if you are correct, I am safe; if you are not correct, I am safe. I have two strings to my bow; you have but one."

In June, 1766, we again find Whitefield in the neighborhood of Bristol, whence he writes, "As my feverish heat continues, and the weather is too wet to travel, I have complied with the advice of friends, and have commenced a Hot-wells water drinker twice a day. However, twice this week, at six o'clock in the morning, I have been enabled to call thirsty souls to come and 'drink of the water of life freely.' Tomorrow evening, God willing, the call is to be repeated, and again on Sunday." On his return to London, he writes, under date of September 25, "Many in this metropolis seem to be on the wing for God; the shout of a king is yet heard in the Methodist camp. Had I wings, I would gladly fly from pole to pole; but they are clipped by thirty years' feeble labors. Twice or thrice a week I am permitted to ascend my gospel throne. The love of Christ, I am persuaded, will constrain you to pray that the last glimmering of an expiring taper may be blessed to the guiding of many, wandering souls to the Lamb of God."

The good providence of God now gave Whitefield a colleague in the ministry at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court-road chapel, the Rev. Torial Joss. This gentleman had spent many years as captain at sea; converted by divine grace, and filled with holy zeal, he devoted his popular talents to the welfare of his fellow-men, preaching both on sea and land. In a remarkable manner, Mr. Whitefield became acquainted with him, and, without his knowledge, published that he would preach in his houses of worship, which, though with extreme reluctance, Joss did. These services were often renewed, and Whitefield gave him no rest till he abandoned the sea, and devoted himself to the ministry. Everywhere he was popular, and everywhere useful. He continued minister of the two places in London – spending four or five months in each year travelling and preaching – for twenty-seven years after the death of his friend, and then departed from earth, in 1797, in holy triumph, in the 66th year of his age.