Volume 2 — WHITEFIELD’S LAST FOUR YEARS IN GREAT BRITAIN. From July 7, 1765, to September 5, 1769. (continued 2)

“The present annual income of the Orphan House is between four and five hundred pounds sterling. The house is surrounded with 1,800 acres of land. The number of negroes employed on this land, in sawing timber, raising rice for exportation, and corn, with all other provisions for the family, is about thirty. The College will also be immediately possessed of 2,000 acres of land near Altamaha, which were granted me by the Governor and Council, when I was last in Georgia; and 1,000 acres more, left, as I am informed, by the late Rev. Mr. Zububuhler.575 By laying out £1,000 in purchasing an additional number of negroes, and allowing another £1,000 for repairing the house and building the two intended wings, the present annual income may easily and speedily be augmented to £1,000 per annum.

“Out of this standing fund may be paid the salaries of the master, professors, tutors, etc., and also small exhibitions be allowed for orphans or other poor students, who may have their tutorage and room-rent gratis, and act as servitors to those who enter commoners.

“At present, I would only further propose, that the negro children, belonging to the College, shall be instructed, in their intervals of labour, by one of the poorer students, as is done now by one of the scholars in the present Orphan House. And I do not see why provision may not likewise be made for educating and maintaining a number of Indian children, which, I imagine, may easily be procured from the Creeks, Choctaws, Cherokees, and the other neighbouring nations.”

Such was Whitefield’s scheme. Further correspondence followed. The Lord President expressed the opinion that the head of the College must be a member of the Church of England, and that “the public prayers in the College should not be extempore ones, but the liturgy of the Church, or some part thereof, or some other settled and established form.” Whitefield’s reply is dated, “Tottenham Court, October 16, 1767.” He again objected to any clause being inserted in the charter, making it obligatory that the head of the College should be a member of the Established Church. He reminded the Archbishop that “by far the greatest part of the Orphan House collections and contributions came from Dissenters, not only in New England, New York, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, and Scotland, but in England also.” He stated that, since the announcement of the design to turn the Orphan House into a College, and of the approval of that project by the Governor, Council, and Assembly of Georgia, he had visited most of the places where the benefactors of the Orphan House resided, and had frequently been asked, “Upon what bottom the College was to be founded?” To these enquiries he had answered, indeed, he had declared from the pulpit, that “it should be upon a broad bottom, and no other.” He then continues:—

“This being the case, I would humbly appeal to the Lord President, whether I can answer it to my God, my conscience, my king, my country, my constituents, and Orphan House benefactors and contributors, both at home and abroad, to betray my trust, forfeit my word, act contrary to my own convictions, and greatly retard and prejudice the growth and progress of the institution, by narrowing its foundation, and thereby letting it fall upon such a bottom, as will occasion general disgust, and most justly open the mouths of persons of all denominations against me. This is what I dare not do.”

Whitefield concludes by telling the Archbishop, that, as the influence of his Grace, and of the Lord President, “will undoubtedly extend itself to others of His Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council,” he will not trouble them again about the business, but will himself “turn the charity into a more generous and extensively useful channel.”

Thus the matter ended. Whitefield tried to convert his Orphan House into a College; but, because the Lord President of the Privy Council, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, insisted that it should practically be an institution of the Church of England, by insisting that its provost should be a member of that Church, his design, together with that of the governor and rulers of Georgia, was frustrated. He was well aware, that, in the present state of excited feeling among the non-episcopalians of America, it would have been worse than useless to turn his Orphanage into a Church of England College. His decision was, at once, just and prudent. When the correspondence with the Archbishop was concluded, Whitefield wrote as follows “To his Excellency James Wright, Esq., Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the Province of Georgia”:—

“Thus, may it please your Excellency, concluded my correspondence with his Grace; and, I humbly hope, the Province of Georgia will, in the end, be no loser by this negotiation. For, I now purpose to superadd a public academy to the Orphan House, as the College of Philadelphia576 as constituted a public academy, as well as charitable school, for some time before its present college charter was granted in 1755.”

Whitefield then suggests that the Orphan House estate, which, for three years, had been neglected, should be vigorously improved, so as to make permanent provision for the maintenance of indigent orphans, and to convert the Orphan House itself into a suitable academy for opulent students. He proposes to send from England proper masters to “prepare for academical honours the many youths, in Georgia and the adjacent provinces, waiting for admission.” He expresses his willingness to settle the whole estate upon trustees, with the proviso, that no opportunity should be neglected “of making fresh application for a college charter, upon a broad bottom, whenever those in power might think it for the glory of God, and the interest of their king and country, to grant the same.” And he concludes by hoping, that, in this way, his “beloved Bethesda will not only be continued as a house of mercy for poor orphans, but will be confirmed as a seat and nursery of sound learning and religious education, to the latest posterity.”

On Whitefield’s return to London, in the month of June, 1767, he continued his correspondence with Rowland Hill. The latter had left Cambridge, for the long vacation, and had returned to Hawkstone, the residence of his father. Here he was warmly welcomed by Richard, his elder brother, who, like himself, had lately become a village preacher, and a visitor of prisons; but his parents were profoundly grieved at his religious irregularities; and his walks, amid the beautiful scenery of his father’s grounds, were often sorrowful. To cheer him and his brother, Whitefield wrote as follows:—

“London, July 14, 1767.

“Blessed be God, for what he has done for your dear brother! A preaching, prison-preaching, field-preaching esquire strikes more than all black gowns and lawn sleeves in the world. If I am not mistaken, God will let the world, and His own children too, know that He will not be prescribed to, in respect to men, or garbs, or places, much less will He be confined to any order, or set of men under heaven. I wish you both much, very much, prosperity. You will have it. This is the way: walk in it. Both the Tabernacle and the chapel pulpits shall be open to a captain or an esquire sent of God. The good news from Oxford is encouraging.577 Say what they will, preaching should be one part of the education of a student in divinity. Usus promptos facit. Write often and let me know how you go on. What says your friend Mr. Powys. God bless him, and help him to go forwards!”578

A week later, Whitefield wrote again:—

“London, July 21, 1767. I hope, ere this comes to hand, you will have taken your second degree. A good degree indeed! To be a preacher,—a young preacher,—a mobbed, perhaps, a stoned preacher,—O what an honour! How many prayers will you get, when I read your letter at the Tabernacle! And the prayers of so many dear children of God will do you no hurt. When we are fighting with Amalek below, it is good to have a Joshua praying for us above. Jesus is our Joshua—Jesus is our intercessor. He liveth, He ever liveth to make intercession, especially for His young soldiers. Yonder, yonder He sits! Whilst praying, He reaches out a crown. At this distance, you may see written in capital letters, ‘Vincenti dabo.’ All a gift—a free gift, though purchased by His precious blood. Tell churchmen, tell meetingers, tell the wounded, tell all of this. Tell them when you are young; you may not live to be old. Tell them whilst you are an undergraduate; you may be dead, buried, glorified, before you take a college degree. Tell those who would have you spare yourself, that time is short, that eternity is endless, that the Judge is before the door. God bless you! God bless you! Yours in Jesus,

“George Whitefield.”

Before proceeding with Whitefield’s history, extracts from three other letters, to Rowland Hill, may be welcome:—

“London, August 6, 1767. The enclosed made me pity, smile, and rejoice: pity the writer’s ignorance, smile at his worn-out sarcasms, and rejoice that you are called to be a living martyr for our common Lord. Fear not; only go forward. You know Jesus, and, by preaching, will know more. If you write, let him know that Jesus has revealed Himself not only to you by His word, but in you by His spirit; that you look upon those whom he is pleased to term fanatics, as the excellent of the earth; and that you choose rather to suffer reproach with them, than to enjoy all the pleasures of sense, and all the preferments in the world.”

“London, August 8, 1767. God be praised, if another of your brothers is gained! What grace is this! Four or five out of one family! It is scarcely to be paralleled. Who knows but the root, as well as the branches, may be taken by and by. Steadiness and perseverance, in the children, will be one of the best means, under God, of convincing the parents. Their present opposition, I think, cannot last very long. If it does, to obey God rather than man, when forbidden to do what is undoubted duty, is the invariable rule. Our dear Penty579 is under the cross at Cambridge; but crescit sub pondere. I should be glad if any one’s exhibition was taken from him for visiting the sick, etc.580 It would vastly tend to the furtherance of the Gospel; but Satan sees too far, I imagine, to play such a game now. Let him do his work—he is only a mastiff chained. Continue to inform me how he barks, and how far he is permitted to go in your parts; and God’s people shall be more and more stirred up to pray for you all, by yours, in our all-conquering Emmanuel,

“George Whitefield.”581

“London, August 26, 1767. Go to Jesus. Learn to pray of the threatened apostles. (Acts iv. 23–30.) I am afraid they will only threaten. If an expulsion should be permitted, it will take place, I believe, only for a little time, and will soon be repented of. Thousands of prayers were put up for you last Monday, at the Tabernacle letter-day. The verses sung were these:—

‘Give him thy strength, O God of pow’r!

Then, let men rage and devils roar,

Thy faithful witness he shall be:

’Tis fixed, he can do all through Thee.’”

While Whitefield was acquiring new friends, he was faithful to his old. The friendship between him and Wesley was never tenderer than now. During the month of August, Wesley held his annual Conference, in London, and wrote:—

“1767, August 18. Tuesday. I met in Conference with our assistants and a select number of preachers. To these were added, on Thursday and Friday, Mr. Whitefield, Howell Harris, and many stewards and local preachers. Love and harmony reigned from the beginning to the end.”582

Such a re-union of old friends, fellow-labourers, and fellow-sufferers, must have been delightful. A trio, like Wesley, Whitefield, and Howell Harris, was a sight worth seeing,—three great reformers, because three great revivers of pure and undefiled religion.

In reference to this Conference, Thomas Olivers remarks:—

“Mr. Whitefield not only attended the Conference, but also invited the preachers to the Tabernacle, ordered them to be placed round the front of his galleries, and preached a good sermon, to encourage them in their holy calling. When he had done, he took them to his house, by ten or twenty at a time, and entertained them in the most genteel, the most hospitable, and the most friendly manner.”

Olivers, who was one of the preachers thus entertained, continues:—

“While Mr. Whitefield lived, he was glad to confirm his love to the members of Mr. Wesley’s Societies, by preaching in their chapels, by sitting at their tables, by lying in their beds, and by conversing with them, late and early, in the most friendly and Christian manner. When he preached in Mr. Wesley’s pulpits, in the north of England, he several times did me the honour of making my house his home. On all such occasions, multitudes can tell what expressions of the highest esteem he frequently made use of, in exhorting Mr. Wesley’s Societies; in keeping lovefeasts, and watch-nights with them; in his table talk; and as he travelled with them by the way. Nay, strange as it may seem, he has been known to say, that he found more Christian freedom among Mr. Wesley’s people than he did among his own in London. As to the preachers in connexion with Mr. Wesley, these have frequently received very great marks of Mr. Whitefield’s esteem. In private, he conversed with them, as with brethren and fellow-labourers. In public, he frequently said far greater things in their favour than Mr. Wesley thought it prudent to say. He never seemed happier than when he had a number of them about him. When he had opportunity, he gladly attended our Conferences; sometimes listening to our debates, and at others joining in them. On these occasions, he more than once favoured us with a suitable sermon; and often said such things in our behalf, as decency forbids me to mention.”583

A testimony like this from a man of great acuteness, and inflexible veracity, is more than ordinarily valuable. Immediately after Wesley’s Conference, Whitefield was anxious to make another of his gospel tours. Writing to his old assistant, Thomas Adams, on August 14, he says:—

“I have been sick; but, blessed be God! I am better. Who knows but I may be strengthened to take a trip to Scotland. This itch after itinerating, I hope, will never be cured till we come to heaven. Though laymen occupy the pulpits, both at Tottenham Court chapel and the Tabernacle, the congregations increase. ‘Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.’ No weapon, formed against Sion, shall or can prosper. Our Thursday morning six o’clock lecture at the Tabernacle is crowded.”

Whitefield was not able to extend his “trip” as far as Scotland; but he travelled what he called his “northern circuit,” reaching, at least, from Sheffield to Newcastle. He started about the beginning of September, and, on his way, preached at Northampton and Sheffield. He arrived at Leeds on Thursday, September 10,584 accompanied by the Countess of Huntingdon. Here, they were joined by Captain Scott, who preached to amazing crowds.585

From Leeds, Whitefield proceeded further north. He preached at York; and, among many other curious entries in the old book of the Methodist Society in that city, is the following: “1767. September 16. By expenses on account of the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, 14s. 9d.”

On reaching Newcastle, he wrote, as follows, to Mr. Keen:—

“Newcastle, September 20, 1767.

“My dear, very dear Friend,—Preaching and travelling prevent writing. Through unmerited mercy, I am well; but, for several reasons, I decline going to Scotland this fall. I have a blessed Methodist field, street-preaching plan before me. This afternoon, in the Castle Garth. To-morrow, Sunderland. Next day, at Mr. Romaine’s mother’s door (at Hartlepool.)586 Then to Yarm, etc. You may venture to direct for me at Mr. William Shent’s, peruke-maker, at Leeds; but send me no bad news, unless absolutely necessary. Let me enjoy myself in my delightful itinerancy. It is good, both for my body and soul. I have been enabled to preach in the street at several places; and hope to go to Guisborough, Whitby, Scarborough, Malton, York, Leeds, Liverpool, Chester, Manchester, etc., etc. You shall know particulars as we go on. Tender love to all friends. Golden seasons! Golden seasons! Grace! Grace!”

Immediately after Whitefield’s departure from London, Bartholomew Carrol and three other burglars broke into his house, stole a large quantity of linen and other articles, were arrested, and committed for trial at the Old Bailey.587 In the following letter to Mr. Keen, Whitefield refers to this unpleasantness:—

“Thirsk, September 28, 1767. Never was I so long a stranger to London affairs before. What part of the paragraph is true, about the commitment of several persons for a certain robbery? I hope that death will not be the consequence to any of the criminals. Father, convict, and convert them for Thy infinite mercy’s sake! I should be glad to ramble till their trial is over. I trust there will be no necessity of my appearing in person. To-morrow, God willing, I go to Dr. Conyers.588 He earnestly desires to see me. Where the next remove will be, I know not. Be pleased to direct to Leeds. Every stage, more and more, convinces me, that old Methodism is the thing. Hallelujah!”

Two days after the date of this letter, Whitefield was at Leeds, and wrote: “I have been enabled to go forth into the highways and hedges, into the streets and lanes of the towns and cities. Good old work! Good old seasons! Help, help to praise Him, whose mercy endureth for ever!” Whitefield’s labours were still of sufficient importance to attract the attention of the public press. Lloyd’s Evening Post of October 2 had the following announcement: “For about a fortnight past, the Rev. Mr. Whitefield has been travelling, and preaching, at York, Thirsk, Yarm, Hartlepool, Stokesley, Sunderland, and Newcastle, where his congregations have been very numerous.”

Whitefield was requested to visit Fletcher at Madeley, but the distance, and the season of the year, deterred his going. He, however, spent two or three days at Huddersfield,589 with Venn, who had recently lost his wife by death. While in Venn’s home of sorrow, he wrote:—

“Huddersfield, October 6, 1767. How is death scattering his arrows all around us? The call to us is loud, very loud. Its language is quite articulate. ‘Watch and pray, for ye know not at what day or hour the Son of Man cometh.’ What is this world? Nothing, less than nothing. What is the other world? An eternity of endless misery or endless bliss. We have no time to trifle, to be light, foolish, or worldly-minded.”

It ought to be kept in mind, that, in all the towns mentioned in the foregoing extracts, Wesley and his preachers had already formed Societies, and that Whitefield went among them, not as Wesley’s rival, but as his helper. For many years, in his country excursions, Whitefield, without ostentatiously professing it, acted in this capacity,—an important fact, which Whitefield’s biographers, for some reason, have not noticed. Whitefield and Wesley were never firmer friends than now. Writing to Mrs. Moon, of Yarm, a few weeks after Whitefield’s return to London, Wesley says:—

“In every place where Mr. Whitefield has been, he has laboured in the same friendly, Christian manner. God has indeed effectually broken down the wall of partition which was between us. Thirty years ago we were one; then the sower of tares rent us asunder; but now a stronger than he has made us one again.”590

On reaching London, Whitefield, in a jubilant strain, wrote to his old helper, Thomas Adams:—

“London, October 12, 1767.

“My very dear Tommy,—Good-morrow! This comes to enquire how you and yours do. I am just returned from my northern circuit. It has been pleasant, and, I trust, profitable. Praise the Lord, O our souls! Everywhere the fields have been white, ready unto harvest. I am become a downright street and field preacher. I wish the city, and want of riding, may not hurt me. No nestling, no nestling on this side Jordan. Heaven is the believer’s only resting place. Mr. Joss has been much blessed here.”

If possible, Whitefield was more popular than ever, as the following extract from Lloyd’s Evening Post, of October 30, will tend to show:—

“Wednesday morning, October 28, was preached, by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, at his Tabernacle near Moorfields, a sermon, for the benefit of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge among the Poor, by distributing Bibles and other good books, before a very polite audience of upwards of six thousand people, and above forty ministers of different persuasions. Near £200 was collected.”591

In reference to this remarkable service, on a busy week-day morning, Whitefield simply says: “I would reflect upon Wednesday with humility and gratitude. Lord, what am I? ‘Less than the least of all,’ must be my motto still.”

Whitefield’s text on this occasion was “Thy kingdom come.” The collection was four times larger than usual, and eighty persons became new subscribers. After his sermon, Whitefield dined with the ministers present at Draper’s Hall, and was treated with great respect.592

The troubles of Rowland Hill and his associates, at Cambridge, have been repeatedly mentioned, and are alluded to in the following letter, addressed “To the Rev. Mr. Fletcher, Rector of Madeley, near Bridgenorth, Shropshire”:—

“London, October 22, 1767. What more offences! Surely, my dear friend, you must have done Satan some late harm; otherwise, I think, he would not be so angry. I hope he has lost some ground in the north. Street and field-preaching were made very pleasant to me, and, I trust, they were equally profitable. Our truly noble Lady Sussex sends good news from Bath. She recovers strength apace. There is hot work at Cambridge. One dear youth is likely to be expelled. Mr. Lee is suspended without private admonition, or having a moment’s warning. What would become of us, if a hook were not put into the leviathan’s jaws? Adieu! In great haste, but greater love, I hasten to subscribe myself, my dear sir, yours in our all-conquering Emmanuel,

“George Whitefield.”593

The storm, which, in one of the universities, burst a few months afterwards, was already brewing. The Methodist students, both at Cambridge and Oxford, were in trouble; and Whitefield did his best to comfort and encourage them. Hence the following extracts from his letters, written at this period:—

“London, October 23, 1767. By your brother’s letter, it appears the hour of expulsion is not yet come. Surely they will not be so imprudent, or act so contrary to the laws of English liberty. I long to know what statutes they say you have broken, and what concessions have been made. Your diocesan will make a strict enquiry. I wish you could recollect all circumstances; the rise and progress of the present contest; with all the various pleadings, threats, conferences, pro and con. If confined to college, this will be a good exercise for you. You may lodge it in court, as a proof whether you understand to write plain English, or sound, practical, experimental divinity. This can do you no harm; it may do good. Do, therefore, set about it. Who knows? Sauls may yet become Pauls.”

“London, October 24, 1767. Supposing you made this addition to the motto of your coat of arms,—‘Nemo me impune lacessit?’ He who toucheth God’s people, toucheth the apple of His eye. That is a very tender part. I am glad your diocesan is expected soon. I have no expectation of his beating a retreat. ‘To arms! to arms!’ must be the watchword now. The company of the Son of Man is never so sweet as when He walks with us in the fiery furnace. Nothing can stand before an honest, truly Israelitish heart. Those who endeavour to entangle Christ’s followers in their talk, will, in the end, be entangled themselves.”

“London, November 14, 1767. All know my mind. Go forward, I think, is the royal word of command. We may then indeed have a Red Sea to pass through; but the threatening waves shall become a wall on the right hand and on the left. I am ashamed to find so many silenced by mere bruta fulmina.”

“London, December 1, 1767. You meet like apostles now; but, when they met between the time of our Lord’s death and resurrection, what trouble did they endure, for fear of the Jews? But be not discouraged. Continue instant in prayer. A risen, an ascended Jesus, will yet appear in the midst of you, renew your commission, and endue you with power from on high. O think of this, ye little college of cast-outs! Do not deny Him in any wise.”

On the day the last extract was written, the Earl of Buchan died at Bath. For some time, his lordship had been in declining health. In Bath, as long as his health permitted, he was a most regular attendant at the chapel of the Countess of Huntingdon, and was in the constant habit of hearing Whitefield, Wesley, Romaine, Shirley, Venn, Townsend, Fletcher, and other Methodist clergymen, who supplied the pulpit there. His death was most triumphant. A few days before its occurrence, Lady Huntingdon went to see him, at his particular request. As soon as he could speak, he said: “I have no foundation of hope whatever, but in the sacrifice of the Son of God. I have nowhere else to look,—nothing else to depend upon for eternal life; but my confidence in Him is as firm as a rock.” Among his last sayings, were the words, “Happy! happy! happy!” Thus,—

—“on his dying lips,

The sound of glory quiver’d.”

“His lordship’s departure,” wrote Lady Huntingdon, “was not only happy, but triumphant and glorious.”

The event, to these grand old Methodists, was too important to pass unimproved. Whitefield was summoned from London; and, for five days, in the chapel of the Countess of Huntingdon, a series of services were held, which, probably, have no parallel. “The corpse of the late Earl of Buchan,” says Lloyd’s Evening Post, of December 16, “lay in state, at the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel, from Sunday to Thursday night. Two sermons on the occasion were preached each day by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield and others.”

The story, however, will be best told in the words of Whitefield himself. To the Reverend Walter Shirley, Whitefield wrote:—

“Bath, Tuesday, December 8, 1767. The Earl of Buchan sweetly slept in Jesus last week. His corpse lies deposited in the chapel of good Lady Huntingdon, and is not to be removed till next Friday morning. There have been public prayers and preaching twice every day. The noble relatives constantly attend, and all is more than solemn. Great numbers, of all ranks, crowd to see and hear. The Earl died like the patriarch Jacob; he laid his hands on, and blessed his children; assured them of his personal interest in Jesus; called most gloriously on the Holy Ghost; cried, ‘Happy! happy!’ as long as he could speak; and then—you know what followed.”

In another letter, Whitefield wrote:—

“Bath, Wednesday, December 9, 1767. All has been awful, and more than awful. Last Saturday evening, before the corpse was taken from Buchan House, a word of exhortation was given, and a hymn sung, in the room where the corpse lay. The young Earl stood with his hands on the head of the coffin; the Countess Dowager on his right hand; Lady Ann and Lady Isabella on his left; and their brother Thomas594 next to their mother, with Miss Orton, Miss Wheeler, and Miss Goddle on one side. All the domestics, with a few friends, were on the other. The word of exhortation595 was received with great solemnity, and most wept under the parting prayer. At ten, the corpse was removed to good Lady Huntingdon’s chapel, where it was deposited (within a place railed in for that purpose), covered with black baize and the usual funeral concomitants, except escutcheons.

“On Sunday morning all attended, in mourning, at early sacrament. They were seated by themselves, at the feet of the corpse; and, with their head servants, received first, and a particular address was made to them. Immediately after receiving, these verses were sung for them:—

‘Our lives, our blood, we here present,

If for Thy truths they may be spent;

Fulfil Thy sovereign counsel, Lord,—

Thy will be done, Thy name ador’d!

Give them Thy strength, O God of pow’r!

Then let men rave or devils roar,

Thy faithful witnesses they’ll be;

’Tis fixed—they can do all through Thee.’

Then they received this blessing: ‘The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you! The Lord cause His face to shine upon you, and give you peace!’ and so returned to their places. Sacrament being ended, the noble mourners returned to good Lady Huntingdon’s house, which was lent them for the day.

“At eleven, public service began. The bereaved relations sat in order within, and the domestics around the outside of the rail. The chapel was more than crowded. Near three hundred tickets, signed by the present Earl, were given out to the nobility and gentry, to be admitted. All was hushed and solemn. Proper hymns were sung, and I preached on these words, ‘I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.’ Attention sat on every face, and deep and almost universal impressions were made.

“The like scene, and if possible more solemn, was exhibited in the evening; and I was enabled to preach a second time. A like power attended the word, as in the morning.

“Ever since, there has been public service and preaching twice a day. This is to be continued till Friday morning. Then all is to be removed to Bristol, in order to be shipped for Scotland. The inscription on the coffin runs thus:—

“His life was honourable,

His death blessed;

He sought earnestly peace with God;—

He found it,

With unspeakable joy,

Alone in the merits of Christ Jesus,

Witnessed by the Holy Spirit to his soul.

He yet speaketh:

‘Go thou, and do likewise.’”

These were strange scenes, but who can find fault with them? And who can estimate their permanent influence upon the eleventh Earl of Buchan, and upon his illustrious brother, then only seventeen years of age, but afterwards Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain?

Whitefield continued preaching at Bath, Bristol, and Kingswood, till December 21, when he set out for London. Meanwhile, the young Earl of Buchan had also come to town, from his father’s funeral in Scotland, and, at once, associated himself with Lord and Lady Dartmouth, Mrs. Carteret, Mrs. Cavendish, and a numerous circle of distinguished persons, the friends of Whitefield and the Methodists. Whitefield refers to this, in the following letter to the Rev. John Gillies:—

“London, December 28, 1767. The present noble Earl of Buchan, I believe, has got the blessing. He seems to determine to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. He has behaved in the most delicate manner to the Countess, and other noble survivors. He stands here in town against all opposition, like an impregnable rock; and I humbly hope will prove the Daniel of the age. He has already been thrown into a den of lions; but he has One with him, who stops the lions’ mouths. You will encourage all God’s people to pray for him. What if you wrote him a line? I am sure it will be taken kindly; for I know he honours and loves you much.

“I am now fifty-three years old. Did you ever hear of such a fifty-three years’ old barren fig-tree? So much digging, so much dunging; and yet so little fruit. God be merciful to me a sinner! A sinner! A sinner! A sinner! He is merciful! His mercy endureth for ever! He yet vouchsafes to bless my feeble labours.”

The young Earl of Buchan did not disappoint Whitefield’s hopes concerning him. Besides maintaining the dignity of the Scottish peerage, and becoming an ardent lover and promoter of literature and the fine arts, he made a public avowal of his religious principles; and, though this drew down upon him the laugh and lash of wits and witlings, he defied their sneers, and dared “to be singularly good;” and, acting under the advice of the Countess of Huntingdon, appointed Venn, Fletcher, and Berridge to be his chaplains.596

Benjamin Franklin, the poor printer, was now a man of great distinction. He had visited Holland, Germany, and France; and, for the last two years, had been in England. The degree of LL.D. had been conferred upon him by the three Universities of St. Andrew’s, Edinburgh, and Oxford. In France Louis XV. had shown him marked attention. But, in the midst of all his honours, he still respected his old friend Whitefield. The following letter, which the great preacher addressed to Franklin, is highly characteristic of the writer:—

“Tottenham Court, January 21, 1768.

“My dear Doctor,—When will it suit you to have another interview? The” (Bethesda) “College affair is dormant. For above a week, I have been dethroned, by a violent cold and hoarseness. Who but would work and speak for God while it is day! ‘The night cometh when no man can work.’ Through rich grace, I can sing, ‘O death, where is thy sting?’ but only through Jesus of Nazareth. Your daughter, I find, is beginning the world. I wish you joy from the bottom of my heart. You and I shall soon go out of it. Ere long we shall see it burst. Angels shall summon us to attend on the funeral of time; and we shall see eternity rising out of its ashes. That you and I may be in the happy number of those who, in the midst of the tremendous blaze, shall cry Amen! Hallelujah! is the hearty prayer of, my dear Doctor,

“Yours, etc.,

“George Whitefield.”597

Not long after this, Franklin wrote to Whitefield respecting the disturbances at Boston, which resulted in the American rebellion. Though his affection for Whitefield was undoubtedly sincere, he found it difficult to conceal his scepticism even when writing to his friend. The following is an extract from his letter:—

“I am under continued apprehensions that we may have bad news from America. The sending soldiers to Boston always appeared to me a dangerous step; they could do no good, they might occasion mischief. When I consider the warm resentment of a people who think themselves injured and oppressed, and the common insolence of the soldiery who are taught to consider that people as in rebellion, I cannot but fear the consequences of bringing them together. It seems like setting up a smith’s forge in a magazine of gunpowder. I see with you that our affairs are not well managed by our rulers here below; I wish I could believe with you, that they are well attended to by those above; I rather suspect, from certain circumstances, that though the general government of the universe is well administered, our particular little affairs are perhaps below notice, and left to take the chance of human prudence or imprudence, as either may happen to be uppermost. It is, however, an uncomfortable thought, and I leave it.”

No wonder that Whitefield endorsed his friend’s letter with the words, “Uncomfortable indeed! and, blessed be God, unscriptural; for we are fully assured that ‘the Lord reigneth,’ and are directed to cast all our care on Him, because He careth for us.”598

Lady Huntingdon was multiplying her chapels; but none of them were episcopally consecrated. Whitefield, the Wesleys, Romaine, Madan, Fletcher, and other Methodist clergymen preached in them as far as they had opportunity; but, it was evident, that, without lay evangelists, the work would be impeded. Captain Scott, Captain Joss, Thomas Adams, and others rendered efficient help to Whitefield in his London chapels; but they were not sufficient to meet the growing wants of himself and the Countess. Hence, her ladyship began to make preparation for the training of converted and zealous men to supply the existing pulpits, and to extend the work. At Trevecca, not far from the residence of Howell Harris, stood an ancient structure, part of an old castle, erected in the reign of Henry II. The date over the entrance is 1176. This venerable ruin belonged to Harris, who rented it to the Countess, for the purpose of its being turned into a sort of ministerial college. The repairs were now in hand, and Harris acted as supervisor. In a letter addressed to him, she wrote:—

“London, February 22, 1768. I think the work cannot be finished, for the furniture, before June; and, therefore, conclude the opening of the school must be delayed until the end of August. I shall be glad to have an exact account of the expenses as they go on.

“What must I say of this poor city? Religion is fashion, not faith. Disputing and church party is the subject of all I see. Mr. Wesley and Mr. Whitefield hold up their heads above it. Sandeman principles make some noise. May my soul and spirit, life, mind, and talents, be ever devoted to Christ alone!”599

The proposal of her ladyship was to admit none into her school except such as were truly converted to God, and resolved to dedicate themselves to His service. They were to be at liberty to stay three years, during which time they were to have their education gratis, with every necessary of life, and a suit of clothes once a year. Afterwards, those who desired it might enter into the ministry, either in the Established Church, or among Protestants of any other denomination. The plan for the examination of candidates was drawn up, and approved of by Romaine, Venn, Wesley, and others; and Fletcher was fixed upon to be the president.600

Little did the Countess think that the time was near when such a provision would become more important than either she or any of her advisers had imagined. A storm had long been gathering, in both the Oxford and Cambridge Universities; and now it burst. A correspondent of Lloyd’s Evening Post601 wrote as follows:—

“St. Edmund’s Hall is the place where a lady sends all those who have a mind to creep into Orders. The other day, several of the undergraduates of that Hall disobliged their tutor; and this one spark set their whole Methodistical foundation on fire. The tutor went immediately to their visitor, and laid open all their proceedings, upon which he appointed a meeting of the heads of houses, where seven of them, one of whom is a gentleman commoner, were accused of their several offences. One, I think, was for procuring a false testimonium;602 another for preaching in the fields before he was in orders; a letter was read publicly, which the tutor had received from a gentleman, testifying that this man had made him a very good periwig only two years before; two or three for frequenting illicit conventicles; but another was accused only of ignorance, impudence, and disobedience, and is acquitted. All the others were expelled, not only for the offences I have mentioned, but, likewise, for preaching doctrines contrary to the Church of England.”

The “lady” referred to in this letter was the Countess of Huntingdon; but there is not the slightest proof of the accusation brought against her.603 It might contain a modicum of truth; but the base part of the allegation was false and slanderous. The names of the undergraduates were Benjamin Kay, James Matthews, Thomas Jones, Thomas Grove, Erasmus Middleton, and Joseph Shipman. This is not the place to relate the history of the six expelled students; but, it may be added, that, Mr. Kay was of respectable family, and an excellent scholar. Mr. Matthews, who was charged with having been instructed by Fletcher, of Madeley, with being the associate of known Methodists, and with attending illicit conventicles, was afterwards received into Lady Huntingdon’s Academy at Trevecca. Thomas Jones was the periwig-maker, but, for some time, had resided with John Newton, curate of Olney, under whose instruction he had acquired a knowledge of the Greek and Hebrew Scriptures. Besides the crime of being brought up to the trade of a hair-dresser, he was accused of praying, singing hymns, and expounding the Scriptures in private houses. After his expulsion, he was ordained, became curate of Clifton, near Birmingham, and married the sister of the poet Cowper’s friend, the Lady Austin. Mr. Grove confessed to the Archbishop of Canterbury that he had been led into irregularities; the Chancellor consented to his re-admission; but the Vice-Chancellor refused; and the future history of the submissive undergraduate is unknown. Mr. Middleton was ordained in Ireland by the Bishop of Down; became curate of Romaine and Cadogan; wrote his Biographia Evangelica; and finally was presented to the rectory of Turvey, in the county of Bedford. Mr. Shipman, after his expulsion, was admitted to the Academy of the Countess of Huntingdon at Trevecca. His ministry was soon ended; but, at Plymouth, Bristol, Rodborough, and Haverfordwest, his preaching was singularly useful. He died October 31, 1771.

The tutor, who preferred the charges against the Methodist students, was Mr. Higson, who was not always compos mentis, and had been treated as insane. The Vice-Chancellor was the Rev. Dr. Durell, who was the determined enemy of the accused. Their friend, the Rev. Dr. Dixon, was the principal of their college. Their judges were Drs. Durell, Randolph, Fothergill, Nowell, and Atterbury. The expulsion took place on March 11, 1768.604

The event, as might be expected, created a national sensation. A large number of persons warmly approved of the sentence of the judicial junta; among whom was the famous Dr. Johnson. “Sir,” said Johnson to his friend Boswell, “the expulsion was extremely just and proper. What have they to do at a University, who are not willing to be taught, but will presume to teach? Where is religion to be learnt but at a University? Sir, they were examined, and found to be mighty ignorant fellows.” Boswell: “But was it not hard, sir, to expel them, for I am told they were good beings?” Johnson: “I believe they might be good beings, but they were not fit to be in the University of Oxford. A cow is a very good animal in the field, but we turn her out of a garden.”605 Johnson’s similitude was more forcible than appropriate; but, even admitting that, in a literary point of view, the expelled were not fit for the University, it may be asked, who were responsible for their admission? Really, their only crimes were, that some of them had been ignobly bred, and all of them had sung, and prayed, and read the Scriptures in private houses. In this respect, they were not alone. Dr. Stillingfleet, Fellow of Merton College, and afterwards Prebendary of Worcester; Mr. Foster, of Queen’s College; Mr. Pugh, of Hertford College; Mr. Gordon, of Magdalen; Mr. Clark, of St. John’s; and Mr. Halward, of Worcester College, had done just the same; but these were gentlemen whom it would have been somewhat perilous to treat with the same collegiate tyranny that was exercised towards the humble undergraduates who were ignominiously expelled.

The latter, however, were not without friends. Rowland Hill and his Methodist associates, Pentycross, Simpson, Robinson, and others, at Cambridge, were in intimate communion with them; and Rowland Hill’s brother, afterwards Sir Richard Hill, became their principal defender. He published his “Pietas Oxoniensis.” (8vo. 85 pp.); which was answered by Dr. Nowell, principal of St. Mary’s Hall. Other pamphlets, pro et con, were issued, too numerous to be mentioned here; but Whitefield’s must have attention. It was the last he published, and was entitled, “A Letter to the Reverend Dr. Durell, Vice-Chancellor of the University of Oxford; occasioned by a late Expulsion of Six Students from Edmund Hall. By George Whitefield, M.A., late of Pembroke College, Oxford; and Chaplain to the Countess of Huntingdon.” (8vo., 50 pp.) The “Letter” was dated, “London, April 12, 1768,” and was one of Whitefield’s most spirited productions. In reply to “one article of impeachment, namely, that some of” the six expelled students “were of trades before they entered the University,” he reminded the Vice-Chancellor that there was no “evil or crime worthy of expulsion” in this, for “God took David from the sheep-fold;” “David’s Lord had for his reputed father a carpenter, and, in all probability, worked at the trade of a carpenter Himself;” He “chose poor fishermen to be His apostles;” and St. Paul “laboured with his own hands, and worked at the trade of a tent-maker.”

In reference to the charge of using extempore prayer, Whitefield argued, that, though the “English liturgy is one of the most excellent forms of public prayer in the world,” yet no form “can possibly suit every particular case.” Besides, said he, “what great sinners must they have been, who prayed, in an extempore way, before any forms of prayer existed? The prayers we read of in Scripture,—the prayers which opened and shut heaven, the effectual, fervent, energetic prayers of those righteous and holy men of old, which availed so much with God, were all of an extempore nature. And I am apt to believe, if, not only our students and ministers, but private Christians, were born from above, and taught of God, as those wrestlers with God were, they would want forms of prayer no more than they did.”606 “The crime of using extempore prayer is not so much as mentioned in any of our law books; and, therefore, a crime for which, it is to be hoped, no student will hereafter be summoned to appear at the bar of any of the reverend doctors of divinity, or heads of houses in the University of Oxford.” “It is also to be hoped that as some have been expelled for extempore praying, we shall hear of some being expelled for extempore swearing.”

One extract must suffice respecting the charge of “singing hymns”:—

“Were the sons of the prophets more frequently to entertain themselves thus, it would be as suitable to the ministerial character as tripping up their heels, skipping and dancing at the music of a ball-room, or playing a first fiddle at a concert. The voice of spiritual melody would be as much to the honour of the University as the more frequent noise of box and dice, at the unlawful games of hazard and back-gammon.”

On the subject of “giving private exhortations,” Whitefield aptly observed:—

“Our all-wise Master sent His disciples on short excursions, before He gave them the more extensive commission to go into all the world; and were our students in general, under proper limitations, to be thus exercised, they would not turn out to be such mere novices, as too many raw creatures do when they make their first appearance in the pulpit. I remember, above thirty years ago, some young students had been visiting the sick and imprisoned, and had been giving a word of exhortation in a private house; and, upon meeting the minister of the parish on their return to college, they frankly told him what they had been doing; when he turned to them, and said, ‘God bless you! I wish we had more such young curates;’—a more Christian sentence this, than that of a late expulsion for the very same supposed crimes and misdemeanours.”

Whitefield proceeded to remind Dr. Durell of the effort which was being made to establish the episcopacy in the American colonies, and of the opposition of the colonists to the scheme, and then added:—

“That persons of all ranks, from Quebec down to the two Floridas, are at this time more than prejudiced against it, is notorious; but how will the thought of the introduction of lord bishops make them shudder, if their lordships should think proper to countenance the expulsion of religious students, whilst those who have no religion at all meet with approbation and applause.”

Turning to the general subject of Methodism, Whitefield continued:—

“It is notorious that the grand cause of these young men’s expulsion was, that they were either real or reputed Methodists. Scarce any now-a-days can pray extempore, sing hymns, go to church or meeting, and abound in other acts of devotion, but they must be immediately dubbed Methodists.”

And then, in reference to the first Oxford Methodists, he added:—

“If worldly church preferments had been their aim, some of them, at least, might have had ladders enough to climb up by; but having received a kind of apostolical commission at their ordination, they would fain keep up the dignity of an apostolic character; and, therefore, without ever so much as designing to enter into any political cabals, or civil or church factions, without turning to the right hand or the left, or troubling the world with a single sermon or pamphlet on the bare externals of religion, they have endeavoured to have but one thing in view, namely, to think of nothing, to know nothing, and to preach of nothing but Jesus Christ, and Him crucified; to spend and be spent for the good of souls, and to glory in nothing saving in the cross of Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto them and they unto the world.”

Such was Whitefield’s last description of the first Methodist preachers. May this be the character of all their successors to the end of time!

Of course, Whitefield’s “Letter” to Dr. Durell evoked replies; but only one of these can be noticed here. It was entitled, “Remarks upon the Rev. Mr. Whitefield’s Letter to the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Oxford; in a Letter to the Rev. Mr. Whitefield. By a late Member of the University of Oxford. Oxford, 1768.” (8vo., 62 pp.) Two or three extracts from this angry and abusive production must be given. In reference to Whitefield himself, the author says:—

“I address you without any hope of reforming you, for, it would be absurd in me to prove a person insane, and, at the same time, attempt to convince him of that insanity. That would be supposing him in his senses in order to satisfy him that he is out of them. My design is to deal with you as magistrates do with an offender, whom they despair of bringing to any good. They animadvert upon him for the good of others, and, by open punishment, aim at suppressing the influence which his advice or example may have had upon his acquaintance.

“Your sermons are off-hand harangues,—mere enthusiastic rant,—a wild rhapsody of nonsense,—the foam of an over-heated imagination,—like old wives’ fables, or profane and vain babblings,—proceeding from a spirit of pride and ignorance. Such teachers as yourself, are blind leaders of the blind,—jack-o’-lanthorn meteors, or ignes fatui, drawing the mazed follower through briars and bogs, till he is plunged into inextricable ruin. But, however absurd and ridiculous your sermons—the spuings of the heart upon the people, in unconcocted sentences—they are tolerable in comparison of your extempore prayers to the Deity.”

This was hardly polite to come from “a late member of the University of Oxford;” but let it pass, and listen to what the accomplished author says of the six expelled students:—

“These low mechanics were moved with the spirit of pride and ignorance, and had no other calls but of vanity, idleness, and hunger; and, I make no doubt, had their attempt to creep through some privy holes, or to climb over the fences into the ministry been crowned with success, they would have scorned the dust from whence they sprung, and, spurred on with the turbulent spirit of ambition, would never have ceased clambering after the higher places, and would even have been dissatisfied, though they reached the highest round of the ecclesiastical ladder.”

One sentence more from this elegant publication:—

“If a large stock of pride, with the profoundest ignorance, and a brow harder than adamant, be sufficient to set up a Methodistical spouter, what occasion is there to send him to the University?”

In order to get rid of a subject so unpleasant, it may be added here, that, besides this, there were several other pamphlets published against Whitefield and the Methodists during the year 1768. For instance, there was “The Troublers of Israel, in which the Principles of those who turn the World upside down are displayed. With a Preface to the Rev. Dr. ――. To which is prefixed a short introductory Description of Modern Enthusiasts.” (4to.) A kind of opera, exceedingly incoherent, and profanely foolish. 2. “Sermons to Asses” (12mo., 212 pp.), dedicated to Whitefield, Wesley, Romaine, and Madan,—chiefly a political publication, with a fling at the Methodists. 3. “Enthusiasm Detected and Defeated. By Samuel Roe, A.M., Vicar of Stotfold, in Bedfordshire.” (8vo., 319 pp.) Principally an attack on Wesley, but not altogether exempting Whitefield. “I humbly propose to the legislative powers,” said the Rev. Samuel Roe, “to make an example of Tabernacle preachers, by enacting a law to cut out their tongues, who have been the incorrigible authors of so many mischiefs and distractions throughout the English dominions. And, by the said authority, to cut out the tongues of all field-teachers, and preachers in houses, barns, or elsewhere, without apostolical ordination and legal authority, being approved and licensed to enter upon that most sacred trust.” 4. “The Hypocrite: a Comedy. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane” (8vo.),—in which a Tabernacle enthusiast occupied a prominent position.

Then, in 1769, before Whitefield sailed for America, there were published: 1. “Methodism, a Popish Idol; or the Danger and Harmony of Enthusiasm and Separation. By Booth Braithwaite.” (8vo.) “A raving pamphlet,” said the Monthly Review, “against sectaries, with abundant zeal, little knowledge, and less charity.” 2. “A Letter to a Young Gentleman at Oxford, intended for Holy Orders” (8vo.),—in ardent language warning the “young gentleman” against Confessionalists, Monthly Reviewers, Blasphemers, Reprobates, and Methodists. 3. “The Pretences of Enthusiasts Considered and Confuted; a Sermon preached before the University of Oxford, at St. Mary’s, June 26, 1768. By William Hawkins, M.A., Prebendary of Wells. Published by desire.” (8vo., 27 pp.) Mr. Hawkins confesses that he has “little hope of converting spiritual dishonesty, or convincing religious infatuation;” but he insists that “all pretences of illiterate laymen, and ignorant mechanics, to expound the way of God more perfectly, in consequence of supernatural inspiration and spiritual illumination, are plainly to be resolved into the artifice of imposture, or the insanity of enthusiasm.”

On the other hand, there was published a curious and well-executed engraving, of folio size, entitled, “The Tree of Life: likewise a View of the New Jerusalem, and this present Evil World; with the Industry of Gospel Ministers in endeavouring to pluck sinners from the wrath to come.” The copy before me is the only one I have ever seen, or heard of; and, therefore, a brief description of it may be welcome. The “Tree of Life” is large and fantastic. Its roots are entitled, “Glorious,” “Gracious,” “Holy,” “Just,” “Wise,” “Almighty,” and “Omnipresent.” On its stem and two lowest branches is a representation of the crucified Saviour. Its twelve fruits are “Everlasting Love,” “Election,” “Pardon,” “Righteousness,” “Refuge,” “Security,” “Peace,” “Sanctification,” “Promises,” “Good-will,” “Perseverance,” and “Eternal Redemption.” Its foliage is inscribed with the words, “Circumcision,” “Baptism,” “Fasting,” “Temptation,” “Victory,” “Poverty,” “Obedience,” “Shame,” “Reproach,” “Imprisonment,” “Stripes,” “Buffeting,” “Death,” and “Resurrection.” “The New Jerusalem” is resplendent with the divine glory, and is surrounded with lovely scenery. “The present Evil World,” at the bottom of the picture, contains a large number of male and female figures, some of them in “the Broad Way,” others indulging in “the Pride of Life,” and others in “Chambering and Wantonness.” In the right hand corner is the “Bottomless Pit,” with sundry demons, and ablaze with fire; while, at its mouth, sits “Babylon, Mother of Harlots,” with a large goblet in her hand; and out of the pit an avaricious-looking wretch is endeavouring to escape, for the purpose of clutching his money bags, which are inscribed with the word “Extortion,” but a grinning fiend has seized him by the long flowing hair of his head, and prevents him going farther. In the midst of one crowd, Wesley is preaching, and represented as crying, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ.” In another crowd, close to the “Bottomless Pit,” stands Whitefield, the likeness excellent, and bearing a strong resemblance to the portrait in the present volume. The multitude around him evince great excitement. One man, on his right hand, cries, “What shall I do to be saved?” Another, on his left, whose coat-tail a demon grasps, exclaims, “Save, Lord, or I perish.” And Whitefield, in the midst, dressed in full canonicals, and with hands uplifted, shouts, “Behold the Lamb.” The whole thing is ludicrous; but it was friendly, and, no doubt, was published in favour of Whitefield and his fellow-labourer. Whether it was calculated to answer the artist’s purpose is another question. Sometimes man has need to pray, “Save me from my friends!”

To return to Whitefield’s history. Little is known of his proceedings during the first four months of 1768. The interval seems to have been spent in London, and, doubtless, was well employed in preaching and other religious duties. On Wednesday, March 23, he had to perform a painful duty, to which he had been long accustomed. James Gibson, attorney-at-law, had been found guilty of the crime of forgery, and had been sentenced to suffer death. On the morning of the culprit’s execution, Whitefield attended him in Newgate prison, prayed with him, and administered to him the holy sacrament. Gibson, a good-looking man of about forty-five years of age, professed to rely on the merits of his Saviour; and, in a mourning coach, dressed in black, and wearing a ruffled shirt, was driven to Tyburn, where his behaviour was devout and manly, and his sentence was executed.607

At Whitsuntide, Whitefield visited Tunbridge Wells, Lewes, and Brighton. At the first of these places, Lady Huntingdon had procured a permanent residence, on Mount Ephraim; and Whitefield preached twice in the open air. “Very many,” says her ladyship, “were cut to the heart. Sinners trembled exceedingly before the Lord, and a universal impression seemed to abide upon the multitude. Truly God was in the midst of us to wound and to heal.”608

The following letter, addressed to Whitefield by Rowland Hill, refers to this visit to Tunbridge Wells, but is chiefly valuable as containing a sketch of the proceedings of the Methodist students at Cambridge, and as exhibiting some of the peculiarities of young Rowland’s character:—

“Cambridge, May 12, 1768.

“Rev. and very dear Sir,—I am glad to hear we are to expect a smaller edition of your valuable ‘Letter.’609 I doubt not but it will be of further utility. It has been read much in this place. That and the Shaver610 have been sent for to all the coffee-houses in this University; so that, no doubt, all our heads have seen all that has been written. But if you think it any advantage to send each of our heads a separate copy, I will contrive my best to get it done.

“God be praised for what is doing by the endeavours of dear Lady Huntingdon at Tunbridge Wells! How wonderfully is she carried from one place of dissipation to another! How glorious is her continued progress!

“Blessed be God! we are not without being steeped more than ever in shame in this place; or, as the old proverb goes, we have eaten shame and drank after it, and I trust it digests well. Though we always endeavour to keep clear of a mob, in letting no more know than our different houses will hold, yet, in spite of all that can be done, more or less of the gown constantly attend. The Lord, through much grace, generally keeping me clear of the fear of man, gives me some little strength to tell you all about it; and, as I find burs generally stick faster to people’s clothes than roses, I am sometimes apt to deal in that rough ware. They have hitherto always stood, like poor brow-beaten things, with much attention till we have done, when they generally get together to compare notes, which they afterwards retail among others of the University, drest up in a droll fashion, well embellished, with the addition of many ludicrous lies.

“This makes all, as I pass the streets, stop to wonder at me, as a strange oddity; but, as I am more than ever convinced that the only way God ever will carry on His work, is by the manifestation of His own almighty power, without any of our assisting influence or trimming, I find the only way to meet with a blessing is to be honest and open in telling them the simple truth, and leaving God to bless it. This, I trust, has, in some measure, been the case at Cambridge. Four of the many gownsmen, that have been at times my hearers of late, have never missed an opportunity of attending, and have been at much pains to enquire the time and place of our meeting. After hearing, they wish me a good eve; and, when absent, speak respectfully of the word. Many others, too, having been convinced in their judgments, approve of its being right; while others, filled with the hottest madness, dress me up as a fool, and cudgel me as a knave.

“The other night, the mob of the gown, which raised a second of the town, ran so high at the house where we had a meeting, that the constable, who is a friend, was forced to attend, that no riot might ensue; but, as I thought to be attended with constables was yet too high an honour for such a poor beginner, I hope it was nothing more than what Christian prudence would advise, to be more private the next time, and be contented with a house full, attended only with a few gownsmen by way of bringing up the rear.

“As for our Doctors, ’tis remarkable how very patiently they bear with my conduct, as they now know that as I have but a little while to stay, an expulsion from Cambridge would hardly answer. They seem now to have come to the following compromise—that I am to continue to be possessor of my professorship, and to be still bishop over all their parishes, provided I will be contented with houses or barns, and leave them alone with quiet possession of their streets, fields, and churches, and, by and by, they will be glad to sign my testimonium, in order to get rid of me. Thus, in the end, I hope, through grace, I shall be enabled to make good what I promised to one, who asked me, when we enthusiasts intended to stop. My answer was, ‘Not at all, till such time as we have carried all before us.’

“I am in the greatest hope that the Lord will soon give dear ―― a heart to help me. He is a steady, warm, lively Christian, and grows prodigiously, and bids by far the fairest for the predicted phœnix of any that are in this place.

“Do continue to be earnest in prayer to God for us. I want much humbling. Spiritual pride, at present, is my grand temptation.

“Having not any spare time, I am forced to write thus in haste, and conclude with subscribing myself your poorest son and servant for Christ’s sake,

“Rowland Hill.”611

The foregoing letter is valuable for its facts, if for nothing else. Rowland Hill was evincing courage hardly inferior to that of the first Oxford Methodists. Without courting persecution, he was not afraid of it. To be laughed at was not pleasant, but it was not heeded. Rowland was no longer threatened with expulsion; but he was made the object of collegiate ridicule. Eight months after this, he proceeded to his B.A. degree, and his name appeared in the list of honours.

There can be no doubt that one of the best ways to propagate any new creed or system is to implant it in the national Universities. Whether designedly or otherwise, Methodism had thus been rooted at both Oxford and Cambridge. The Heads of Houses at Oxford did their utmost to destroy it. Those at Cambridge were not so ruthless. Why? Was it because the expelled at Oxford were of low degree? and because the Cambridge leader, Rowland Hill, was the son of an English baronet? Perhaps it was.

Whitefield was generally jubilant. His path was often rough and difficult, but he pursued it singing. The following was addressed to Captain Joss:—

“London, May 17, 1768.

“My dear Man,—Go forward! go forward! is the watchword of the present day. Never mind the envious cry of elder brethren. Had they been hearkened to, the Prodigal must never have come home, nor Goliath’s head have been cut off. All temple-builders, especially when called to work in the field, must endure, not only the contradiction of sinners, but, the contradiction of saints. Happy are they who are so deeply engaged in building as not to have time to hearken to either. I long to come and lend a helping, though feeble hand. But Welsh horses move slowly. If the Welsh apostle comes, I purpose, in the Whitsun week, to make a short excursion into Sussex and Kent, and then for Bristol.

“Blessed be God! the shout of a King is heard in our camps. Let us march forward, with palms of victory in our hands, crying, ‘Hallelujah! The Lord God omnipotent reigneth!’”

A month after the date of this letter Whitefield was in Edinburgh; but how he went, and why he went, no one seems to know. His popularity, however, in the northern metropolis, was as great as ever. Hence he writes:—

“Edinburgh, June 15, 1768.

(To Mr. Keen) “You would be delighted to see our Orphan House Park assemblies; as large and attentive as ever. Twenty-seven-year-old friends and spiritual children remember the days of old. They are seeking after their first love, and there seems to be a stirring among the dry bones. I cannot tell you when I shall move. Probably within a fortnight.”

“Edinburgh, July 2, 1768.

(To Mr. Andrew Kinsman) “My dear Timothy, I am much obliged to you for your staying in London, till I return from Scotland. My journey hither was certainly of God. Could I preach ten times a day, thousands and thousands would attend. I have been confined for a few days, but, on Monday or Tuesday next, hope to mount my throne again. O to die there! Too great, too great an honour to be expected! I thank my wife for her kind letter just received. I am here only in danger of being hugged to death. Friends of all ranks seem heartier and more friendly than ever. All is of Grace! Grace! I go on in my old way, without turning to the right hand or to the left. Providence says every day, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’ Tender love to all, particularly to my dear wife. Next post she may expect to hear from me.”

“Edinburgh, July 9, 1768.

(To Mr. Keen) “God be praised that all is so well in London. Everything goes on better and better here; but I am so worn down by preaching abroad, and by talking at home almost all the day long, that I have determined to set off for London next Tuesday. As you do not mention my wife, I suppose she is out of town.”

Exactly a month after this, Whitefield’s wife was dead. On his return to London, she was attacked with fever, and died on August 9. Five days afterwards, he preached her funeral sermon;612 and, noticing her fortitude, remarked,—“Do you remember my preaching in those fields by the old stump of a tree? The multitude was great, and many were disposed to be riotous. At first, I addressed them firmly; but when a desperate gang drew near, with the most ferocious 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, and, looking up, said, ‘George, play the man for your God.’ My confidence returned. I spoke to the multitude with boldness and affection. They became still, and many were deeply affected.”613 A monument to the memory of Whitefield’s wife was put up in Tottenham Court Road chapel, with the following inscription:614—

“To the memory of Mrs. Whitefield, who, after thirty years’ strong and frequent manifestations of her Redeemer’s love, mixed with strong and frequent strugglings against the buffetings of Satan, and many sicknesses and indwellings of sin, was joyfully released, August 9, 1769.”615

Whitefield submitted to his bereavement with Christian resignation. Two days after he preached his wife’s funeral sermon, he wrote, in a letter to Captain Joss:—“Let us work whilst it is day. The late unexpected breach is a fresh proof that the night soon cometh, when no man can work. Pray, where may I find that grand promise made to Abraham after Sarah’s death? May it be fulfilled in you, whilst your Sarah is yet alive! Sweet bereavements, when God Himself fills up the chasm! Through mercy I find it so. Adieu.”

On Wednesday, August 24, Whitefield opened the College of the Countess of Huntingdon at Trevecca, by preaching from the words: “In all places where I record My name, I will come unto thee, and bless thee.” The next day, he gave an exhortation to the students, from: “He shall be great in the sight of the Lord.” And, on Sunday, August 28, preached in the court before the College, to a congregation of thousands, from: “Other foundation can no man lay, than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.”616

He then hurried back to London, where he arrived on September 1. His health was broken, and he was again an invalid. In a letter, dated September 6, he wrote to a sick and suffering friend:—

“Why should not one invalid write to another? What if we should meet in our way to heaven unembodied,—freed from everything that at present weighs down our precious and immortal souls? For these two days past I have been almost unable to write: to-day, I am, what they call better.”

Immediately after this, he ruptured a blood-vessel; and, on September 12, remarked:—

“I have been in hopes of my departure. Through hard riding, and frequent preaching, I have burst a vein. The flux is, in a great measure, stopped; but rest and quietness are strictly enjoined.”617

Rashly enough, Whitefield re-commenced preaching before the month was ended. One of his friends, Mr. Middleton, died a triumphant death, and Whitefield must preach a funeral sermon. His text was, “I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.” The word “chosen” gave him an opportunity to dwell upon the doctrine of election. “I know no other doctrine,” said he, “that can truly humble man; for either God must choose us, or we must choose God.” As usual, his sermon was interspersed with anecdotes, one of which may be given here. “A noble lady,” said Whitefield, “told me herself, that when she was crying on account of one of her children’s death, her little daughter came to her and said, ‘Mamma, is God Almighty dead, you cry so?’ The lady replied, ‘No.’ ‘Mamma, will you lend me your glove?’ said the child. The mother let her take it; and, in due time, asked for it again. ‘Mamma!’ remarked the child, ‘shall I cry because you have taken back your glove? And shall you cry because God has taken back my sister?’”618 A reference is made to the death and burial of Mr. Middleton in the following extract from a letter:—

“London, September 26, 1768. For some days, the flux of blood has stopped entirely. Praise the Lord, O my soul! Mr. Middleton is now made perfectly whole. He was buried from the Tabernacle last Wednesday evening, and a subscription is opened for his four orphans.”

“Where is Mr. Middleton now?” cried Whitefield in the sermon just mentioned. “Where is my dear fellow-labourer, that honest, that steady man of God? If in the midst of torture, he could answer his daughter and say, ‘Heaven upon earth! heaven upon earth!’ surely now that he sees God, and sees Christ, he must cry, ‘Heaven in heaven!’”

A few weeks after this, Whitefield set out for Bath and Bristol; and began to have a longing to go to his orphans at Bethesda. He writes:—

“Bristol, November 12, 1768. Bethesda lies upon my heart night and day. Something must be determined speedily. As, I trust, my eye is single, God will assuredly direct my goings. Hitherto, He has helped. He will do so to the end. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

By the end of November, he was back to London, and wrote:—

“November 30, 1768. Many thought I should not hold out from Bath to London; but I cannot as yet go to Him whom my soul loveth. Last Sunday, I creeped up to my gospel-throne; this evening, the same honour is to be conferred upon me. Mr. Wright is going with his brothers to Georgia to finish the wings of the intended College, and repair the present buildings.”

Whitefield’s weakness continued; but he preached as often as he was able. “I love the open bracing air;” said he, on December 14; “preaching within doors, and especially to crowded auditories, is apt to make us nervous.”

In another letter, dated “December 15,” he remarked:—

“You cannot tell how low my late excursion to Bath and Bristol brought me. I would leave future events to God, and, like you merchants, would improve the present now. Time is short; eternity is endless. I have considered the affair of the picture. What think you? A limner, who lately drew me, and hung the picture in the Exhibition, asks forty guineas for a copy.619 I shall not mind him, but send a bust taken several years ago. It shall be presented as a token of my hearty, hearty love to the Orphan House at Edinburgh, and its never-to-be-forgotten friends.”

The first three months of the year 1769 were spent in London. Whitefield was extremely feeble. Wesley wrote:—

“1769. Monday, January 9. I spent a comfortable and profitable hour with Mr. Whitefield, in calling to mind the former times, and the manner wherein God prepared us for a work which it had not then entered into our hearts to conceive.”

And again:—

“Monday, February 27. I had one more agreeable conversation with my old friend and fellow-labourer, George Whitefield. His soul appeared to be vigorous still, but his body was sinking apace; and, unless God interposes with His mighty hand, he must soon finish his labours.”620

Comparatively speaking, these three months were a time of inaction; and yet, to Whitefield and others, they were a time of great enjoyment. Lady Huntingdon was now in London, and, at her residence in Portland Row, Cavendish Square, there were delightful re-unions of Methodist clergymen. Whitefield, the two Wesleys, Romaine, Venn, and others, were often assembled there, for preaching, sacramental administration, and Christian fellowship. On the 10th of January, Whitefield administered the sacrament, and Wesley preached on, “By grace are ye saved, through faith.” A week afterwards, Romaine administered the Lord’s Supper, and Whitefield preached. On February 28, Whitefield was present, but wholly unable to take any active part in the services of the day. The Rev. Messrs. Green and Elliott administered the sacrament and Romaine preached. Sometimes Venn administered, and at others preached. When he was able, Whitefield would preach in her ladyship’s drawing-room on several days successively. At the last meeting, previous to the Countess leaving London, Charles Wesley exhorted all present to “stand fast in one mind and in one judgment;” Romaine administered the Lord’s Supper; Venn and Whitefield prayed; and all sang the glorious doxology, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.”621

By the month of March, Whitefield’s health was considerably improved. In letters, addressed to his old friend, Thomas Adams, he wrote:—

“London, March 11, 1769. My very dear Tommy. Through infinite mercy, I am enabled to preach thrice a week, besides engaging in other occasional exercises. The shout of the King of kings is amongst us. After Easter, I hope to make an elopement to Gloucestershire, and some western parts. I feel the loss of my right hand622 daily; but right hands and right eyes must be parted with for Him, who ordereth all things well.”

“London, March 31, 1769. Through infinite mercy, I have been enabled to preach four days successively. We have been favoured with a blessed Passover season: all to make us shout louder, ‘Grace! Grace!’”

Whitefield still longed to get away to his beloved Bethesda. On March 17, he wrote to Mr. Dixon, his manager there:—“I am every day, every hour, almost every moment, thinking of, and preparing for America. A pilgrim life to me is the sweetest on this side eternity.” No wonder that Whitefield wished to be at his Orphan House. He had sent workmen to erect the new buildings already mentioned, and, only eight days after the date of this letter to Mr. Dixon, the foundation stones were laid with as much ceremonial pomp as the colony of Georgia could contribute. Hence the following letter, dated “Savannah, in Georgia, March 29, 1769,” and published in Lloyd’s Evening Post, of June 2:—

“The Rev. Mr. George Whitefield having sent over proper workmen to erect the necessary additional buildings for the intended Academy at the Orphan House, on Saturday last, being the anniversary of laying the foundation of that house in the year 1739, his Excellency, the Governor, attended by most of the members of the Honourable Council and a great number of other gentlemen, after the service of church was performed, and a sermon preached by the Rev. Mr. Samuel Frink, Rector of Christ Church parish, laid the foundation of both the intended wings; and the whole company, being entertained at dinner in a plentiful and decent manner, returned to their habitations seemingly much pleased with the occasion of their meeting, and their treatment there. From this beginning, we have the most sanguine hopes, that, in a short time, we shall enjoy the advantage of educating our youth within ourselves; a benefit we have, in a great measure, been deprived of, for want of such an establishment.”

Early in April, Whitefield set out to Bath, on a visit to the Countess of Huntingdon. Here and in the neighbourhood, he spent a month, preaching at a large number of places, to most of which he was accompanied by her ladyship, and by Lady Anne Erskine.623 Bath and Bristol were the chief scenes of action; but he had “a good field-preaching at Kingswood;” had “a blessed day in Bradford church;” and also another in “the fields at Frome, where thousands attended.” He had “golden seasons” at Chippenham, Castle-Combe, Dursley, Rodborough, Painswick, Gloucester, and Cheltenham. On his way back to London, he wrote, to Captain Joss:—

“Rodborough, Thursday, May 11, 1769. Ebenezer! Ebenezer! Blessed seasons at Chippenham, Castle-Combe, and Dursley, in our way from Frome. Have been enabled to preach five times this week. It is good to go into the highways and hedges. Field-preaching, field-preaching for ever!”

A week after this, he was in London, and wrote to Thomas Adams, at Rodborough, in the most jubilant strain:—

“London, Thursday, May 18, 1769. My very dear old friend. On Monday we reached Letchlade, on Tuesday Maidenhead, and yesterday London. Never was Rodborough so endeared to me, as at this last visit. Old friends, old gospel wine, and the great Governor ordering to fill to the brim!

‘O to grace what mighty debtors!’

“If we should die singing that hymn, what then? Why, then, welcome, welcome eternity! Christ’s grace will be sufficient for us. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

The next three months were chiefly spent in London. Whitefield complained of a “hoarseness, gotten in the highways and hedges;” but he was as full of holy buoyancy as ever. He had now determined to sail for America, and began to make the necessary preparations for his voyage. He bought “Osnaburg linen,” for his negroes; he begged maps and books for his Bethesda Institution; and, in thanking his friend Mr. Keen for a benefaction to his Orphanage, wrote: “Our Lord will write Himself your debtor for it. His interest is pretty good—‘a hundredfold.’ A hundredfold! What can the most avaricious trader desire more?”

One of his last public services was the opening of the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel at Tunbridge Wells. This took place on Sunday, July 23. The Countess, Lady Anne Erskine, Lady Buchan, and Miss Orton went with him.624 Early in the morning, a large number of persons assembled at the front of Lady Huntingdon’s residence, and, in the open air, sang hymns and prayed, till the time announced for the commencement of public service in the chapel. “Never,” said her ladyship, “can I forget the sensations of pleasure I felt, on being awoke by the voice of praise and thanksgiving.” The chapel, of course, was thronged. De Courcy read the prayers of the Established Church; and, then, a large crowd not being able to get inside the chapel, Whitefield came out, followed by those who had joined in the reading of the liturgy, and preached to the assembled thousands, from “How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”625 The sermon was said to be “a perfect piece of oratory.” “Look yonder!” cried the preacher, as he stretched out his hands “Look yonder! What is that I see? It is my agonizing Lord! Hark! hark! hark! Do not you hear? O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord!” Simple words, but producing effects which cannot be described. In connection with these and all Whitefield’s utterances, the reader must bear in mind that Whitefield’s face was language, his intonation music, and his action passion. Garrick used to say of him, that, he could make men weep or tremble by his varied pronunciation of the word “Mesopotamia.” This was an exaggeration; but it expressed the opinion of the greatest of theatrical orators concerning the power of Whitefield’s eloquence.

The day at Tunbridge Wells, a hundred and seven years ago, was probably one of the most remarkable in the history of that resort of fashionable gaiety. After Whitefield’s sermon, the sacrament of the Lord’s supper was administered, at which four clergymen attended, besides Whitefield himself. During the day, three of these clergymen, at three different times, preached to the assembled multitudes, from a small mount raised for that purpose at the front of the chapel.626 One of these was Richard de Courcy,627 the fervid young Irishman, already mentioned, and whose talent and eloquence made him immensely popular. The chapel itself, said Lloyd’s Evening Post628, “has been inspected by some ingenious artists, and is looked upon to be the most complete piece of Gothic architecture that has been constructed for many years!”

Whitefield’s days in England were now nearly ended. In a letter to Captain Joss, dated “Tottenham Court, August 9, 1769,” he wrote:—

“My hands and heart are full. Last night, I went on board the Friendship. The captain is to dine with me to-morrow. I expect to sail the first week in September. You must then be in town.629 Mr. Brooksbanks will supply your place. I hope all things will be settled on a right plan. I have the greatest confidence in you. I only wish some means may be found to save the late great expense of coach hire. It has mounted very high.”

In another letter, dated ten days later, and addressed to Mr. Adams, Whitefield wrote:—

“My very dear Tommy, talk not of taking a personal leave. You know my make. Paul could stand a whipping, but not a weeping farewell. Many thanks for your intended present. God bless you and yours! God bless all our never-to-be-forgotten Gloucestershire friends! I can no more. Adieu! Cease not to pray for, my very dear steady old friend,

“Less than the least of all,

“George Whitefield.”

Six days after this, on Friday night, August 25, Whitefield held one of his last sacramental services in England. This was in the Tabernacle, near Moorfields. Nearly two thousand communicants were present!630

On the Sunday following, he preached his last sermon in Tottenham Court Road chapel. The text was, Genesis xxviii. 12–15. A few extracts must be given. Besides the interest they possess as being among Whitefield’s last words in England, they will help to illustrate his style of preaching, when his work was nearly ended.

“When we are travelling in the woods of America, we are obliged to light a fire; and that keeps off the beasts from us. I have often got up in the night, and said to them that were with me (and God forbid I should ever travel with any one, even a quarter of an hour, without speaking something of Jesus!)—‘This fire,’ said I, ‘is like the fire of God’s love, which keeps off the devil and our own lusts from hurting our souls.’

“It comforts me much, I assure you, to think that, whenever God shall call for me, angels will carry me into the bosom of Abraham; but it comforts me more to think, that, as soon as they lay hold of me, my first question to them will be, ‘Where is my Master? Where is my Jesus?’ And that, after all my tossings and tumblings here, I shall be brought to see His face at last.

“It is now high time for me to preach my own funeral sermon. I am going, for the thirteenth time, to cross the Atlantic. When I came from America last, my health was so bad that I took leave of all friends on the continent, from one end to the other, without the least design of returning to them again. But, to my great surprise, God has been pleased to restore to me some measure of strength; and, though I intended to give up the Orphan House into other hands, God has so ordered it, that his Grace the late Archbishop of Canterbury refused me a charter, unless I would confine it to episcopacy. I could not, in honour, comply with this, as Dissenters, and other serious people of different denominations, had contributed towards its support. I would sooner cut off my head than betray my trust. I always meant the Orphan House to be kept upon a broad bottom, for people of all denominations. I hope, by the 25th of March next, all intended alterations and additions will be completed, and a blessed provision be made for many hundreds; and a comfortable support for poor orphans and poor students. This is my only design in going. I intend to travel all along the continent. I am going in no public capacity. I am going trusting in God to bear my charges. I call heaven and earth to witness that I have never had the love of the world one quarter of an hour in my heart. I might have been rich; but now, though this chapel is built, and though I have a comfortable room to live in, I assure you I built the room at my own expense. It cost nobody but myself anything, and I shall leave it with an easy mind. I have thought of these words with pleasure, ‘I will bring thee again to this land.’ I know not whether that will be my experience; but, blessed be God! I have a better land in view. I do not look upon myself at home till I land in my Father’s house. My greatest trial is to part with those who are as dear to me as my own soul. O keep close to God, my dear London friends. I do not bid you keep close to chapel. You have always done that. I shall endeavour to keep up the word of God among you during my absence. I might have had a thousand a year out of this place, if I had chosen it. When I am gone to heaven, you will see what I have got on earth. I do not like to speak now, because it might be thought boasting.”631

Whitefield’s last sermon632 in London was preached in the Tabernacle, Moorfields, at seven o’clock on Wednesday morning, August 30.633 The text he selected was, John x. 27, 28. The sermon (if so it may be called) was earnest talk, incoherent, and, some would say, egotistic; but it was interspersed with characteristic sentences.

“Sheep,” said Whitefield, “love to be together. They don’t love to be alone. You seldom see a sheep by itself; and Christ’s people may well be compared to them in this. Oh, think some, if we had great people on our side, the King, Lords, and Commons! What then? Alas! alas! Do you think the Church of God would go on a bit the better? No! no! Religion never prospers when it has too much sunshine. Dr. Marryat was not ashamed to preach in market language; and I once heard him say at Pinner’s Hall, ‘God has a great dog to fetch His sheep back when they wander.’ Yes, when God’s people wander, He sends the devil after them, and suffers him to bark at them; but instead of barking them further off, he only barks them back again to the fold of Christ.”

In another part of his discourse, Whitefield, unnecessarily if not egotistically, stated that, before he was twenty-two years of age, he had the offer of two parishes, by Benson, Bishop of Gloucester; that, when he first came to London, most of the metropolitan churches were open to him; and that twelve or fourteen constables had to guard the doors of the churches where he preached. He then referred to his intention to turn the Orphan House into a College; and highly eulogised Mr. and Mrs. Dixon, his “old servants” there, and also the Messrs. Wright and Mr. Crane, whom he had sent out to execute the improvements and additions to the building. He concluded as follows:—

“This is the thirteenth time of my crossing the mighty waters. It is a little difficult at this time of life; but I delight in the cause, and God fills me with a peace that is unutterable. I expect many trials while on board. Satan always meets me there; but God, I believe, will keep me. I thank God, I have the honour of leaving everything quite well and easy at both ends of the town. If I am drowned, I will say, if I can, while I am drowning, ‘Lord, take care of my English friends!’ Some of you, I doubt not, will be gone to Christ before my return; but, though parted, it will be to meet again for ever. God grant that none who weep now at my parting, may weep at our meeting at the day of judgment! Come, sinner, come, see what it is to have eternal life! Haste! haste! haste away to the great, the glorious Shepherd! I care not what shepherds you are under, so that you are kept near the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls. The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious unto you! The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace!”

Such was Whitefield’s final benediction upon his Tabernacle congregation, on Wednesday morning, August 30. In point of fact, this was a second farewell sermon, in the same building; for, on the Wednesday night previous, he had addressed those of the congregation who were unable to attend a week-day morning service. His sermon, on that occasion, was, in all respects, superior to his final one. The text was, “And thy God thy glory” (Isaiah lx. 19). He then made his last London collection.

“The Tabernacle has been repaired,” said he; “and I wish to leave it unencumbered. I told my friends, I would make a collection. Remember, it is not for me, but for yourselves—for the place where you are to meet, when I am tossing on the water, and in a foreign clime. The arrears are nearly £70. I hope you will not run away. If you can say, God is my glory, you will not push one upon another, as though you would lose yourselves in a crowd, and say, Nobody sees me. Does not God Almighty see you? You must excuse me. I cannot say much more. I beg you will excuse me from a particular parting with you. Take my public farewell. I will pray for you when in the cabin; I will pray for you when tempests are about me; and this shall be my prayer, ‘O God, be Thou their God! and grant their God may be their glory!’”

A few other extracts, from Whitefield’s last sermons in London, may be welcome. They are taken from the 8vo. volume, published by Gurney immediately after Whitefield’s death.634

“The Devil’s Children.—‘O,’ says one, ‘I never felt the devil.’ I am sure thou mayest feel him now. Thou art dadda’s own child. Thou art speaking the very language of the devil; and he is teaching thee to deny thy own father. Graceless child of the devil, if thou hast never felt the devil’s fiery darts, it is because the devil is sure of thee. He has got thee into a damnable slumber. May the God of love awaken thee before real damnation comes!” (p. 262.)

“Persecution.—Our suffering times will be our best times. I know I had more comfort in Moorfields and on Kennington Common, especially when rotten eggs, cats, and dogs were thrown upon me,—I had more comfort in these burning bushes than I have had when I have been in ease. I remember when I was preaching at Exeter, and a stone made my forehead bleed, the word came with double power; and a labourer, wounded at the same time by another stone, came to me and said. ‘The man gave me a wound, but Jesus healed me; I never had my bonds broken till my head was’” (p. 268).

“Penitents.—I have reason to believe, from the notes put up at both ends of the town, that many of you have arrows of conviction stuck fast in your souls. I have taken in near two hundred, at Tottenham Court Road, within a fortnight. God is thus at work. Let the devil roar; we will go on in the name of the Lord” (p. 280).

“Self-condemnation.—I wish I could make you all angry. I am a sad mischief-maker; but I don’t want to make you angry with one another. Some people, who profess to have grace in their hearts, seem resolved to set all God’s people at variance. They are like Samson’s foxes with firebrands in their tails, setting fire to all about them. Are any of you come from the Foundery, or any other place, to-night? I care not where you come from. I pray God you may all quarrel; that is, I want you to fall out with your own hearts” (p. 289).